COVID-19: May 15 Update from Co-EP Scott Lumsden
Seattle Presbytery
Tuesday was a tough day, and by tough I mean tougher than usual. Like many of us since March I’ve had some good days and some bad days; but I don’t have a category for Tuesday. My first clue was our 10am staff meeting -- everyone looked waylaid, which gave me pause -- really, all of us on the same day? -- that’s never happened before. I had an errand to run after the meeting, so I decided I’d crank my favorite music in the car -- uh, nope -- didn’t change a thing.
I knew at that moment that whatever was going on in me was way, way deeper than anything I’ve dealt with in a very long while. That’s when the panic set in.
I immediately called a friend, someone I knew I could talk to. She answered. I could barely get the words out, “Hey, can we just talk?” Not missing a beat and in the calmest of voices, “Yes, Scott, tell me what’s going on.” I rambled between sobs, and she stayed with me as friends do. We talked for a good long while. It helped. Immensely.
I say this because I know I’m not alone. Having recently spoken with pastors and leaders from here and around the country, the phrase “when I broke down, when it hit me, when I just couldn’t handle it anymore” is a part of every conversation now. And it should be. As should the next phrase, “that’s when I called ...”
I am truly blessed to serve among some of the most creative, caring, thoughtful, and inquisitive pastors and leaders in the country here in Seattle Presbytery. But we all have our good days and our bad days. Whatever kind of day we’re having, let’s keep being there for each other. This is an important part of our work. And if I can be there for you, don’t hesitate to call 206.778.6263.
In a related way to our personal challenges of dealing with this pandemic, our national trauma around racial inequities have come to the surface again related to the Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor murders. We talked about this on our pastor zoom on Wednesday.
Like a lot of people, #IRunwithMaud this whole week, but all I did was emotionally bounce between grief and anger at his senseless murder. And then we learn that not even a month later in Louisville, Breonna Taylor, a young black woman who is a decorated EMT, is shot eight times as police officers issued a questionable search warrant. Two beautiful lives, in whom the image of God resides, gone.
As a white, male, Christian leader I have failed to speak as I must, not only about the violence and horrific injustices perpetrated upon people of color, but about the systems that support them. As much as I’d like to pretend it doesn’t exist, white supremacy in some form or another exists in every institution in America, including its churches; and as a Christian leader I have a duty to name it when I see it. Not only do I need to #SayHerName, and affirm unreservedly that #BlackLivesMatter, but I need to do so from my place as a white, Christian male who speaks this truth from his faith.
I’ve been reading Genesis lately and it struck me again that as much as we focus on the promise to Abraham, God’s promise to Hagar, a slave woman cast aside by her masters, is equally important. For in it, God not only gives the same blessing of numerous children (16:10) and a great nation (21:18), but through Hagar’s struggle we learn of an important aspect of God’s character -- that our God sees and is present to the marginalized and oppressed, to those who are cast aside by the powerful. This character is revealed to us in a new name for God -- El Roi, the God whom I’ve seen (or the God who sees).
In this strange time of COVID, there is indeed a lot going on under the surface. As fellow bearers of God’s image, may we see and be present to the struggles in one another and in our world in ways that bring truth and healing. And may we see God at work in new ways that bring our world closer to the beloved community of peace, and hope, and justice for all God’s children.
Scott Lumsden
Co-Executive Presbyter
