When I was ordained by Bishop White in the New York Annual Conference, he told my class, “I expect you to spend a week volunteering at camp.” I took those words to heart! I had never been to summer camp until the summer of 1984, when I volunteered to be a program director at Camp Epworth in upstate New York.

After that first summer, I was hooked! I loved seeing the impact a week of camp could have in the lives of campers: for one week, they were blanketed in God’s love, 24/7. They connected with the earth, with each other, and with God in ways that helped them grow in their faith. Many former campers have told me that the lessons they learned at camp have stayed with them throughout their lifetime.

As I continue to learn of the ministries of our Mountain Sky Area, I am spending a week visiting two of our camps: Beaver Creek Camp in Colorado and Flathead Lake Camp in Montana. It’s been great to see that our camps are continuing to touch and change young lives.

This afternoon, we had chapel by the lake. Last night, a junior high school student approached Rev. Tyler Amundson and asked to be baptized. Tyler and the youth spent time reading the bible and exploring the meaning of baptism. After their talk, the youth was more sure than ever that he wanted to be baptized.

So this afternoon at chapel, we remembered Jesus’ baptism. The youth was asked the questions of faith and then he, his mother, and Tyler waded out into Flathead Lake. Tyler took him by the arm and lowered him into the water. As he emerged from the water, a cheer went up from those of us gathered at the shore’s edge. And a big, bright smile shone from this young man’s face as he walked from the water into our outstretched arms, waiting to surround him with our prayers.

This is the power of camp. Young people discover not only God’s love for them, but their love for God. They experience the power of unconditional love and unconditional acceptance in the fellowship found in games, bible studies, and camp fires. The dream of Beloved Community becomes a reality.

When was the last time your church sent a child to summer camp? When was the last time someone from your church volunteered at camp? The seeds of faith planted at camp bear much fruit throughout a person’s lifetime. Make an investment today!

I am already looking forward to visiting more of our camps next summer. Stay tuned for the Bishop’s Summer Camp Caravan, 2018!

Grace and peace,
Bishop Karen Oliveto

The Pentecost story is one of my favorites in the Bible. Pilgrims from around the world gathered in Jerusalem to celebrate the 50 days after the Passover. Having been in the old city of Jerusalem, with its narrow streets that crisscross each other like a tangled web, I can imagine these streets filled with people, a great cacophony of languages rising up from these pilgrims.

The apostles were in a room when the Holy Spirit filled them. And as they spilled out of the house, the crowds were astonished because each pilgrim heard the apostles speaking to them in their native tongue!

This experience was transformative and brought unity as people responded to the Holy Spirit as it worked through Peter, and began to follow the Way of Jesus. This is often referred to as the birth of the Church, and we see that those early converts responded in ways that not only changed their living, but changed their community as well.

We live in a time when those who follow Jesus need to follow the leading of the early church and learn how to communicate the Gospel in life-giving and life-changing ways, to embrace the Way so fully that we discover a better way to live in community together.

You are invited to join me and other members of the Mountain Sky Area as we engage in a Spanish Cultural Immersion experience in Cuernavaca, Mexico, from Monday, Aug. 28, 2017 to Friday, Sept. 8, 2017. Together, we will learn Spanish so we can better communicate the Gospel to a growing population in our area. Additionally, we will engage in conversation and education with members of base Christian communities in the area, who through the lens of liberation theology, employ scripture in a way that builds up the body of Christ in profound ways.

We will experience generous hospitality, staying with host families who invite us to break bread together, we will hear from community activists seeking justice, and study the Bible together with members of base Christian communities.

We will return to the Mountain Sky Area with new tools and insights to reach people in our neighborhoods, towns and villages.

For more information, see our brochure. To register, click here. Registration, along with a $200 deposit, are due by July 1.

I hope you’ll join us!
Bishop Karen

Unafraid and Unashamed: Facing the Future of United Methodism by Wil Cantrell

• May 23 at 8 p.m.: A conversation with the author
• May 30 at 8 p.m.: A conversation with one another

I want to invite you to join me in a book study as we prepare for Annual Conference. These days we are living in as United Methodists haven’t been easy. We find ourselves on pins and needles as we wonder if The United Methodist Church will turn into the Untied Methodist Church when the special session of General Conference occurs in February 2019. At that time, the delegates will receive a report from the Commission on a Way Forward presenting their proposal for how we can live together in the face of our differences regarding human sexuality.

In many ways, we have been ground zero for these discussions and deliberations. The Mountain Sky Area has had a long history of wrestling together over matters related to ministry and homosexuality. The conversations haven’t always been easy, but they have been important as we seek to understand God’s Word for our day and place.

The Mountain Sky Area cabinet and I have been reading Unafraid and Unashamed: Facing the Future of United Methodism by Wil Cantrell. Rev. Cantrell writes as one who loves The United Methodist Church. He provides a historical overview of how we got to where we are today, but then, more importantly, provides a framework of how our theological strengths can help us through this time, if we choose it.

With a commitment to humility and truly hearing one another, Cantrell reminds us of the essentials within our Wesleyan heritage. He doesn’t provide an easy answer for the conflict and reminds us that depending on how we decide to move forward, we may choose untied instead of united, but Cantrell helps us have gracefilled conversations with one another, even in the face of our differences.

Rev. Cantrell will join us for a Zoom conversation on May 23 at 8 p.m. To join this hour-long conversation: https://zoom.us/j/149451109

The following week on May 30 at 8 p.m., we will continue the conversation.

Please read the book before joining the conversation! The book is available on Amazon and is a very engaging, quick read.

Blessings,
Bishop Karen Oliveto

I grew up in a church that had a very active youth group. We worked all year long to raise funds for our MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship) annual retreat. As soon as school was out, we left for a weeklong retreat. One year, 200 of us went to the Maine coast. Another year, we biked our way through Cape Cod, staying in youth hostels. These trips were the highlight of the year, and shaped us all as we lived into Christian community, 24/7.

One constant message that was drummed into us, year after year, was that we would leave whatever place we were staying at better than we found it. It didn’t matter if the place we were staying at was pristine or in shambles (and most of the places were more of the latter!). The expectation was that when we left, we would make sure it was going to be in better condition than when we arrived, assuring that those who come after us would find a comfortable and clean place to stay.

That lesson I learned so many years ago has served me well as a United Methodist pastor. Knowing that our appointments are on a yearly basis, I am always asking myself as June approaches each year: “If I am moved this year, am I leaving this church in a better place than when I found it? Have I empowered lay leadership to own the ministry, so that a new pastor will find willing and able partners when he/she arrives? Are processes and systems in place that will foster growth and vitality, whether I am here or not? Am I willing to plant seeds that others may sow?”

One book that helped shape my answers to these questions and, more importantly, my leadership style, was Jim Collins’ book, From Good to Great. Collins and his researchers explored the factors that help companies (and, in a later book, nonprofits) go from good to great. One chapter, in particular, points out how leadership helps make this happen.

He says that there are five levels of leadership: 
​

(https://www.slideshare.net/FreekHermkens/level-5-leadership-jim-collins)

All are skilled leaders. However, it is level 4 and 5 leaders that help make organizations great. But what sustains the greatness are the gifts a level 5 leader brings to their work.

What’s the difference between a level 4 and a level 5 leader? Level 5 leaders leave a place better than they found it!

Level 5 leaders put the needs of the organization above their ego needs. When success is achieved, level 5 leaders don’t own the success for themselves. They point to those who work with them as the reason for the success. However, when things go poorly, level 5 leaders look at themselves first and how they could have led differently. Level 5 leaders take great satisfaction in setting up their successors for success and watching the organization thrive after they’ve left.

Level 4 leaders, in contrast, sabotage their successors – purposefully or inadvertently. Their ego needs get in the way. They might not admit it, but they like to see an organization flounder without them. Not only do the organizations suffer, but the level 4 leaders suffer as well, for they never reach their full leadership potential.
​
I believe we who are called to ministry, whether as clergy or laity, are always called to level 5 leadership. The model we have for such leadership is Jesus. Through the Great Commission, Jesus empowered his followers to lead well so that his teachings would flourish long after he was gone.

What kind of leader are you? How are you seeking to grow your leadership abilities to become a level 5 leader? As July 1 approaches, and the Great Methodist Shuffle known as Appointment Changes nears, how are you encouraging those in your care to remain invested in the ministries you’ve shared and empowering them to greater leadership? Are you setting your successor up for success?

Are you leaving the place better than you found it?

On this inauguration day of the 45th president of the United States, may we pause in prayer for President Donald Trump. The mantle of leadership has been placed upon him. Our success as a nation rests on his success as a leader. May God’s spirit be with him, giving him wisdom to lead in difficult times, compassion to lead so the most vulnerable are cared for, grace to withstand conflict and criticism, and vision to bring us together as a country so we live into the highest of values we hold most dear.

We all have a part to play as we restore a broken nation to wholeness. I believe we in the Mountain Sky Area have a unique gift to offer in this moment. In 1992, a group gathered in Aspen, Colorado, in the recognition that the purpose of education is not only to impart knowledge, but also to impart character.

The Aspen Declaration says, in part:

"... The present and future well-being of our society requires an involved, caring citizenry with good moral character ... People do not automatically develop good moral character; therefore, conscientious efforts must be made to help young people develop the values and abilities necessary for moral decision making and conduct ... Effective character education is based on core ethical values which form the foundation of democratic society, in particular, respect, responsibility, trustworthiness, caring, justice and fairness, and civic virtue and citizenship." (www.waarden.org/studie/concepten/history.html)

I believe these values can help us in the living of these days.

Respect: We must have respect for our leaders, even when we disagree with them; we must respect others, even when we don’t understand their lives;

Responsibility: We must exhibit responsibility in how we live our lives, knowing that our choices impact the well-being of other people, and creation itself;

Trustworthiness: We must live in ways that communicate to others that they are safe with us; we will protect their dignity and work shoulder-to-shoulder when their lives are threatened;

Caring: We must let love guide all we do;

Justice and Fairness: We must seek to ensure that "justice for all" is not just a slogan, but ingrained in the way we treat each other and make laws;

Civic virtue: We must live in a way that all we do in our personal life enhances community, its well-being and the well-being of others;

Citizenship: We must remain engaged even when we want to walk away. A democracy requires the participation of everyone.

As United Methodists, may we who follow Jesus commit ourselves not only to these values, but to extending the love of God in all we do. In this moment of political change and a new beginning, may our actions mirror the One who calls us to love God and love others as we love ourselves.

Blessings,
Bishop Karen Oliveto

When the clock struck midnight last night, 525,600 minutes stood before you and 2018. Minutes that have yet to be unwrapped. Minutes that hold untold possibilities. Minutes that could reveal heartache or healing. 525,600 minutes. How will you use them?

I have never been keen on New Year’s resolutions. Mainly because I manage to break nearly all of them by the end of the first week! But each new year — like each new day — is an opportunity for me to recommit to the things that matter most to me, to recalibrate my inner moral compass, to realign myself to the things that offer life to me and others.

As 2017 unfolds like the precious flower it is, here are the things I am recommitting myself to:

• Stay connected to God. I try to turn to God as soon as I wake up, and before I go to bed. To say YES to the possibilities of the new day God has set before me, and to say THANK YOU for all that the day has brought me. My conversations with God are the first and last ones I have each day. Through them, I am reminded that no matter how bad my day may have been, no matter how much I may be dreading what may be in store for me in the new day, “in all things God works for good.” My task is to join with God to co-create the good.
  
• Stay grounded in love. This is related to staying connected to God. If God is love, and love is of God, it is critical to remain loving in all that I do. This is what heals the world. This is the power that overcomes hatred. This is the impetus for justice.  
  
• Remain open-hearted to others. Hostility cannot be met with more hostility. An open heart is necessary if relationships — especially with one’s enemies — are forged in order to change the world. This requires a willingness to be vulnerable and experience pain, but the rewards to be reaped always outweigh the costs.
  
• Not confuse diverse opinions with division. Diverse opinions are needed and necessary in a healthy community. Diversity of thought stretches us to a fuller experience of life and helps us all have bigger dreams for this life we share. Division occurs when we stop offering each other mutual respect, shout each other down, and fail to recognize that we are not the only ones to possess truth.
  
• Take time to laugh each day. This is as critical to me as my morning workout. Others need coffee in the morning, I need a good cardio workout. Laughter is an aerobic workout for my soul. Laughter reminds me not to take myself so seriously.
  
• Stay vigilant. Every year begins with the promise of countless possibilities, yet also carries the potential for trauma and tragedy, pain and pathos, not only for ourselves, but for others. 2017 is no exception. My task is to listen to lives that are different from my own; to hear their challenges and concerns as they encounter the world. Together, we can protect each other’s humanity, rights, and freedoms. Together, we can stand for peace and justice. Together, we can push back the forces of hatred and inhumanity.
  

So, in 2017, I am recommitting myself to creating Beloved Community — to seek right relationship with God, others, and Creation. I will extend the energy of joy in a world that often feels joyless and lacking in hope. I will seek to offer my best self in every situation, and create the space for others to do the same.

525,600 minutes.

2017 ... Bring. It. On.

Bishop Karen Oliveto gave the following sermon on Nov. 13, 2016 at St. Andrew United Methodist Church in Highlands Ranch, Colorado.

Mark 1: 40-45

Two of the most challenging days I have ever had in my more than 30 years of ministry have been 9-11 and 11-9. when so many came to me for pastoral care. On Wednesday, November 9, the first call came shortly after midnight. An African-American pastor called me in tears, her voice barely audible because of the grief that came from deep within her soul, “How am I going to tell my teenage son in the morning? The world has just become that much more dangerous for him.”

I received an email from another pastor, asking if I can write a note to the queer young people her church serves, who are now afraid that the bullying they deal with on a regular basis will become more pronounced and violent.

Several friends have talked about how the election has been a terrible trigger for them, surfacing memories of abuse they had hoped they would have long forgotten.

Teachers told me of how they spent time soothing crying children, who are afraid that one day they will return home from school to find parents missing, having been rounded up and deported.

Mothers and fathers asked me what they could tell their children, now that someone who has shown such disrespectful behaviors towards women has been elected a world leader.

At a time when the global village is shrinking, it seems as if instead of feeling a greater sense of community and connection, more and more people are feeling pushed to the margins, outcasts, untouchables.

One of my favorite hymns begins with the line: Open my eyes that I may see.

Open my eyes that I may see.

I use this line as a prayer regularly, because it seems that a part of my human condition is to not keep my eyes open. There are things I become blind to. There are those around me that I overlook. There are those whose suffering or state is too disturbing, and so I close my eyes. Do you know what I’m saying?

Open my eyes that I may see.

This is a basic and sad truth about human nature. There are things about each other that causes us to close our eyes to the other. Just about everyone in this place knows something about this: Whether it is our skin color, our accent, the clothes we wear, the jobs we have (or don’t have), our gender identity, our sexual orientation, our handicapping condition, our size, our addictions, our tattoos, our piercings, most of us have had the experience of being shunned, ignored, overlooked, not seen.

This is a most painful, dehumanizing, demoralizing experience. The gifts and skills we possess and can contribute to the greater good go unacknowledged or unappreciated. The hurts and wounds we carry that can be healed in community fester and cripple us. We are pushed to the margins, sidelined from participating fully in the world, and our cries and contributions are unheeded.

But there is one who sees. There is one who hears our cries. In the book of Jeremiah, God speaks: “Listen to the cry of my people from a land far away.” God hears the cry of resignation, of deep despair, of broken hearts. And how does God react? Jeremiah continues: “For the hurt of my poor people, I am hurt. Oh that my head were a spring of water, and my eyes a fountain of tears, so that I might weep day and night.” The God who created us is a weeping God. A God who cries.

A God who cries is one who cares and cares deeply about the world as a whole, and people, too, one by one.  God sees us. God is moved by us.

This commitment to seeing us fully and responding with compassion was embodied in Jesus. This is what made Jesus so dangerous. Jesus saw those who were overlooked. Jesus saw the outcast. Jesus saw the widow. Jesus saw the children. Jesus saw the immigrant. Jesus saw the mentally challenged. Jesus saw the physically challenged. Jesus saw the physically diseased. Jesus saw those people whom the state had a vested interest in suppressing. Jesus saw those whom the religious authorities wanted nothing to do with. Jesus saw those whom the dominating class overpowered. Jesus saw the rough and the raw. Jesus saw the bleeding and wounded. Jesus saw the crushed and defeated. Jesus saw, and was moved to compassion and action. And the most important action was to let those whom he saw know that they were central to God and God’s purposes. They were and are an exclamation point on the heart of God.

Our scripture today is one of the many stories we have of Jesus seeing the invisible. Leprosy in Jesus day rendered one an untouchable and forced to the figurative margins of society and the literal edges of the town. They were considered an illness to be avoided, a cancer that could be caught, an affliction from God that forced one out of community.

The leper comes to Jesus and begs to him, “If you touch me, you can make me clean.” People who are invisible or untouchable know what they need in order to be treated with dignity and restored to community. The problem is, most of the time we don’t listen. We tend to our own places of privilege or think we know best. But this leper, like so many marginalized folks I’ve known, knew exactly what he needed. And he wasn’t afraid to ask for it.

Jesus looks to the man. He SEES the man. He takes in his whole condition. He sees in him not only the diseased parts of him, but the parts of promise that are waiting to be loosened within him. Some translations say “Jesus took pity on him”. Other translations say Jesus “had compassion”. I go with compassion over pity any time. Pity keeps someone an object, something instead of someone. An issue instead of a person. A problem to be solved instead of a person worthy of wholeness.

To have compassion ... oh, that changes everything. Compassion causes us to open our eyes and see the common humanity we share with another. Compassion causes us to be uncomfortable with assumptions we’ve lived with when we see how some of our life choices are detrimental to another’s life. Compassion moves us to action, because to do nothing would violate a central tenant of our faith, to love God and love our neighbor as ourselves.

Jesus has compassion and even though he has spent a long day healing one person after another, gets it together enough to do it one more time. He touches a man no one else is would touch and the man is cleansed of his leprosy. The very thing that kept him at arm’s length is removed and he is returned to community, a whole man.

We need to do this for each other.

I know some of us have been kicked out, kicked down one too many times.  Love has broken your heart to pieces and you are feeling beyond the reach of love. Your addictions have clouded your vision, keeping your eye on the one thing that will blind you. Your voice, the work of your hands, your intellectual labor have been ignored, put down or owned by others. You have been put in a corner where no one can see you for so long you have come to believe that that’s where you belong.

But you are an exclamation point in the heart of God. God weeps with you, for you. We are here to extend a hand to you, to see you in all your fullness, flaws and all, and let you know you are loved. We are here to do the work Jesus begun. To see each other fully. To love one another as completely as we can. To stand with each other. As the song, They’ll know we are Christians by our love teaches us: “We will stand with each other, we will stand side by side. And we’ll guard each one’s dignity and save each one’s pride. And they’ll know we are Christians by our love.”

As we face the days, months and years to come, Jesus calls to us. Jesus says, live as my beloved brothers and sisters. Care for each other. Heal one another. Protect one another’s dignity. Save each one’s pride. Live out your love so brilliantly so that no one will find themselves lost in the shadows, cowering in fear or languishing in oppression.

I was speaking at a conference not too long ago, and one of the other speakers was from Zimbabwe. He told me about the traditional greeting in Zimbabwe which he says has no real English (and I would dare say American) equivalent. It is called “Chabadza” and it is always said when you pass someone and it means something like, “Hello, can I help?”

Unlike here, where we say without even meaning it, “Hi, how are you?” in Zimbabwe they mean it. He said to me,  “When we say Chabadza, what we mean is ‘Greetings! Let me stop a while and help you with what you’re doing. We will work together and we’ll talk a bit and then I’ll be on my way.”

Chabadza is the sharing of a moment, a participation in the task at hand and an acknowledgment that life is best when it is shared.

Life is best when it is shared. As long as we live in silos that separate us by our differences, we don’t get to enjoy the best of life and in fact life turns deadly for those who are feared because of differences.

As this critical juncture in our nation’s history, it is time we practice Chabadza. What would it mean for you to practice it in your office, in your community, as you walk down the street. How would your living change if you took the time to look others in the eye and say let me join you, side by side work with you, so I can learn from you and make your walk in this world a bit easier.

This is how we heal the lepers of our current age. This is what is needed to heal a fractured nation. This is our task as we work for justice, fairness, and equality. This is what is required of us as children of God.

So today and in the days to come, I invite you to walk in the world differently. To see people you often overlook. To stop and share life together. For that is when healing happens, That is when community is created. This is what causes compassion to well up within us and compels us to work for justice.

Chabadza. Hello. How can I help?

On Nov. 2, 2016, Bishop Karen Oliveto was invited to give her faith story to colleagues at the United Methodist Council of Bishops meeting at Epworth by the Sea on St. Simons Island in Georgia. Below is her story.

I was born on Good Friday and raised in a town called Babylon (on Long Island in New York).  From my very first breath, the sacred stories of Scripture were woven into the fabric of my life.

My earliest memory is of attending church for the very first time. While I was not raised in a religious household, my mother took seriously the vows she took at my baptism, in which she was asked: “Will you nurture this child in Christ’s holy Church, that by your teaching and example they may be guided to accept God’s grace for herself, to profess her faith openly, and to lead a Christian life?”1 
 
Living out these vows, my mother took me to the Presbyterian Church, which was on Babylon’s Main Street, when I was three years old. While a white colonial church structure, its inside was of dark wood. The organ wheezed a somber sigh that seemed to bespeak of a foreboding which caused me to break out into sobs as soon as the robe-clad choir members began to process down the aisle. My cries grew louder and louder and even an usher’s finger puppet could not console me. My mother had no choice but to gather me in her arms and leave the church before the conclusion of the first hymn.

My mother was determined to find a church, and she next tried the Methodist Church because she heard it had a good Sunday School program. As soon as I walked into that musty basement classroom, I knew I had found a home. I couldn’t wait for Sunday School and the Bible lessons. The stories of people in the Bible sounded familiar, like people I knew — and they gave me a glimpse of remaining connected to God while living through life’s tragedies and joys

These lessons extended to the children’s choir, which I soon became a part of.  I loved the music of the church, which continued to help me grow in my faith. The first hymn I learned in the choir was the Isaac Watts hymn, I sing the mighty power of God. Like that hymn, I have found the presence of God even from that early age infused in all corners of my life and creation.

Church became the village that raised my sisters and me. Here, loving adults taught, cared, affirmed, and nurtured us. They enveloped us in unconditional love and I thrived in it. I was encouraged to develop music and leadership skills. Here — much more than at school — I felt I was invited to grow into my best, my God-given self. God, who was always very present in my life since those first days in that musty Sunday School room, became embodied in the community of which I was a part.

I was eleven years old when Ken White, one of the pastors, asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, and if I had ever thought about being a minister. While I had never known a woman pastor before, his question broke open my life. Of course! Where else do I feel so whole? Where else do I experience such joy? Where else do I feel I can use all of me to extend the unconditional love of God which I had experienced?

From that time on, I prepared myself for full-time Christian service through ordained ministry. God continued to be a very real presence in my life, particularly through music and community. In seminary, however, God suddenly disappeared from my life and I felt myself wandering in the wilderness, a soul in exile. Like most seminarians, my first year of study deconstructed my faith and life. In the brokenness, I had to face parts of myself that I had tried hard to suppress my entire life. I listened to the stories of gay and lesbian students, and recognized myself in their stories. I struggled deeply, realizing that for most of my life I knew there was something different about me, even before I had a name for it.   

At the end of my first year of seminary, I literally ran away, hopping a Greyhound bus in Oakland and headed to Nova Scotia, where my grandparents lived. I lost myself in weeping, a tear-stained Bible on my lap, for the first 1,000 miles of that trip; until, finally emotionally spent, I claimed the part of me I most feared. And the miracle is this: I felt that “peace which passes all understanding”2 descend upon my heart. I spent the summer painting my grandparents’ home, reflecting on my first year of seminary, what I had learned about myself, and began to put the pieces together again. In that rebuilding, God returned and I learned an important lesson: God doesn’t ever leave us. We leave God when we deny who we are and who God created us to be.

Returning to seminary and feeling more whole and centered, I learned important lessons from my Catholic peers — that God not only exists in community but also meets us in silence and prayer. This was new a new dimension of religious experience for a hymn-singing Methodist! Prayer and solitude became new elements of my spiritual practice and I found that hiking in the wilderness became a powerful way to embody it.

As an adult, my experience of God has been informed by Wesley’s understanding of personal piety and social holiness, and this is perhaps what has most shaped my experience of God. My faith would be false if it was not lived out in a commitment to justice. Likewise, I cannot do justice without the undergirding of my faith and engaging in the means of grace, which offers me both the strength and vision for such work.

There are moments in my life when personal piety and social holiness have come together so perfectly that I have been left breathless by the nearness of God. Whether seeking housing for the homeless, asylum for undocumented immigrants, an end to war, or standing up for the rights of gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgender/queer persons, these are the moments when I have felt most faithful, even when the response has been arrest or harsh criticism. It is at times like this that I am reminded that following Jesus is risky business. It costs us something, as we disciples stand against a world which seeks to limit love, create communities of insiders and outsiders, and forget to care for “the least of these.”3

On June 10, 2016, I responded to a call I had long tried to ignore. On that night, I was reminded that “perfect love casts out all fear” and I said yes to allowing my name to come forward to the episcopacy. From that day forward, I have experienced the Holy Spirit in a way I never could have imagined. The Spirit has been mightily present, providing strength, calm, and perseverance in the midst of these days of great change.

I give thanks for my upbringing, so rooted in Methodist heritage and tradition, through which the unconditional love of God was and continues to be a tangible experience in my life.  From this, I know that Good Friday always leads to Easter, and exile is never the final destination, for we know that “all things work together for good, for those who love God and are called according to God’s purpose”.4

1 Baptismal liturgy of The United Methodist Church, from The United Methodist Book of Worship. (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1992)
2 Philippians 4:7
3 Matthew 25:40
4 Romans 8:28

I have been thinking a great deal about the word “honor” these days, in part, because there seems to be precious little of it. These past few weeks especially seem to be filled with much dishonor:

• Any high school student can tell you that honoring the rules of debate allows for clear and concise ways to keep focused on one’s argument rather than attacking one’s opponent. Unfortunately, there was much dishonor exhibited during last week’s presidential debate.
  
• The recent shooting of a black man underscores the fact that a black man dies every 28 hours by a police shooting. Systemic racism continues to dishonor the lives of people of color in the United States.
• More than 300 Native American tribes along with activists from across the country continue to protest the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline at Standing Rock, which crosses tribal land and threatens the drinking water of people throughout the region. This pipeline dishonors native peoples as well as the earth.

In Romans 12:10 are written these words:
Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.

As disciples of Jesus, you and I can impact the world by making this commitment to love. When we commit to love, we treat one another differently. We honor newcomers into our sanctuaries by treating them as welcomed guests. We honor the oppressed by working for justice. We honor the earth by protecting the environment through the choices we make as individuals and a society.

In these days when honor has fallen out of fashion, let us wear love boldly. But be warned: the love Jesus expects of us is demanding and costly. It means we cross into new territories as we open ourselves up to lives and experiences that are far different from our own. It requires us to get out of our comfort zone as we stand in solidarity with the oppressed. It calls us to cry out against injustice and seek relationships of healing and reconciliation.

My sisters and brothers, may we be devoted to one another in love. In this way, may we honor each other and the earth, in the name of Christ.

Blessings,
Bishop Karen Oliveto

Earlier this month, Robin and I drove from San Francisco to Denver. Friends watching our posts on Facebook often remarked: “Not exactly the direct route.” They were right. We intentionally drove a circuitous route to acquaint ourselves with the Mountain Sky Area. In fact, in a week we put over 3,000 miles on the car!
Lesson one: There is a lot of land out here!

Since Robin had a Deaconess meeting in North Carolina, and the Bishop’s residence wasn’t available yet, I continued to meander through the area, driving up to Billings to do further exploring. As I drove I kept singing this song:

I, the Lord of sea and sky,
I have heard My people cry.
All who dwell in dark and sin,
My hand will save.
I who made the stars of night,
I will make their darkness bright.
Who will bear My light to them?
Whom shall I send?

Leaving the sea-bound coast for Big Sky Country, God was a constant driving companion, sometimes whispering, sometimes nudging, but always present. As the geography changed to unfamiliar formations, God was there. As small towns gave way to wilderness, God was there. As the weather seemed to change with each passing mile, God was there.

I, the Lord of snow and rain,
I have born my peoples pain.
I have wept for love of them, They turn away.
I will break their hearts of stone,
Give them hearts for love alone.
I will speak My word to them,
Whom shall I send?

I prayed the miles, including each town that I passed in my prayers. I wondered who lived there: what did folks do to earn a living? What were the secret hurts they harbored? What were the longings in their hearts? What filled them with joy? How was God made real to them? How were United Methodists sharing the love of Christ here in tangible ways that brought healing and hope? I prayed for the pastors and laity who were God’s hands in these places that people called “home.”

I, the Lord of wind and flame,
I will tend the poor and lame.
I will set a feast for them,
My hand will save
Finest bread I will provide,
Till their hearts be satisfied.
I will give My life to them,
Whom shall I send?

As the odometer continued to turn, I realized I was driving into God’s new reality for me, for you, for us. God has invited us to a banquet table and reminds us, “Leave no one out. Go to the highways and the byways and invite my children in!” God is promising us that our longings and hungers will be met through God’s abundant love. There is enough for all God’s sons and daughters. We don’t have to worry about scarcity at God’s banquet. God will surprise us with all God has in store for us! Our lives will experience a wholeness we can’t even imagine. Our souls will be satisfied in ways we cannot even anticipate.

Here I am Lord, Is it I Lord?
I have heard You calling in the night.
I will go Lord, if You lead me.
I will hold Your people in my heart.

As the miles passed, I realized it was this chorus that was guiding me better than any map or GPS: God has called, and I have said yes to the journey. I look forward to having you as my traveling companions as together we hold God’s people in our hearts. God invites us to open our lives up to Love’s leading. I don’t know all that God has in store for us, but I am excited to share it with you!

In anticipation,
Bishop Karen