I grew up in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, which makes being Quaker quite difficult.
Have you heard about the study where researchers found that if you’re holding a warm mug, you have more positive feelings about the people you meet? And if you’re holding a cold cup, then you have more negative feelings? My childhood was like that. But instead of a cold cup, there was a smell, a vile, invasive smell, a stench even.
Where I grew up, the east side of Cedar Rapids, not infrequently—not frequently either, but much more frequently than we would like—the wind would blow in from the west. And it brought with it a stench that was awful, absolutely awful. And I blamed the Quakers.
This morning, I went to a tax preparer to amend my tax return, a routine task for this company, but all did not go as expected. My preparer, James, was late. We met at an office branch he seldom uses, which we discovered has malfunctioning heat, and systems which had not been updated to the new software. So while we waited for technical assistance, we talked.
I told him I’m a youth pastor and a barista at a local coffee shop. James was raised Southern Baptist, went to Christian private schools, and graduated from a bible college. After graduating...
“I came near a very great hill, called Pendle Hill, and I was moved of the Lord to go up to the top of it; which I did with difficulty, it was so very steep and high. When I was come to the top, I saw the sea bordering upon Lancashire. From the top of this hill the Lord let me see in what places he had a great people to be gathered.”
I wonder what Fox might have seen. How vast was this group of people? What kinds of people were there? And if today, the Quaker diaspora were to gather with George Fox there as witness, would we confirm his vision?
Let’s say there are people in your church, people who have irreconcilable differences of belief. Polygamy, pacifism, women as pastors, drug abuse, homosexuality – so many possibilities. What should you do?