Annual Conference

I am a United Methodist clergy person.  Methodism was a movement established by John Wesley, his brother Charles and a few of their buddies while at university.  Wesley didn’t call it Methodism, actually that name was meant to be an insult.  Because Wesley had a “method” or system for everything, those that didn’t participate in his group called them Methodist.  They were also called enthusiasts, so I guess there is luck in not being a United Enthusiast.  One of Wesley’s methods, was that the leadership should gather and “conference.”  Not sure how that played out 100 years ago, but today it means Methodists in each area or conference gather and worship, eat, vote, worship, eat and vote.  And because we are Methodists, there are methods and guidelines and rules that must be followed.  Sometimes the consequences for not following the methods are harsh, sometimes they are simply distressing.  Traditions go along way with Methodists.  

United Methodist clergy, for the most part, are appointed by their bishop to serve in a certain place for a year.  Now a church elder may be appointed to the same place for a number of years, but it is only for a year at a time.  Prior to days of technology and advanced communication, church leadership had to pack up all their belongings in their buggy and wagon and come to annual conference.  Then and only then, would a clergy(man) learn if they were going someplace new or returning to the same old place.  Today, things are slightly less barbaric.  Clergy know weeks in advance that they will be moving, certainly with enough time to look for a place to live (if need be), and probably for a spouse to find a new job.

It is a grand time.  It is about the only time we all get to see on another.  We celebrate the lives of those that have died since we were last together.  We celebrate those that are retiring from service, who for the most part, continue to serve in a different relationship.  We celebrate those that are entering ordained service.  There can’t be anything much more grand than the voices of an Annual Conference raised in song. 

And we vote.  Sometimes on things are that are banal, mundane and ridiculous.  Sometimes we vote repetitively on the same thing or similar thing year after year after year.  And while I admire the tenacity of the person bringing the petition, let’s move on, it ain’t gonna pass.  Sometimes we vote on painful hard things that sting our hearts and souls and we must wonder what God imagines about us. 

But ultimately, I hope, I pray, that we recall that we are the people of God.  And that what we are gathering about is how we will live out our roles as the people of God. 

Trimming your sails

Since the principle means of locomotion on a sailboat is the sails, it is important that you take full advantage of the “trim” of the sail.  A poorly trimmed sail or sails, means that you are not moving as well through the water and wind as you might, and  it also means that you are probably not having a peaceful sail.  A sail out of trim is noisy, almost as if it were screaming, “Please use me to your full advantage.”   

luffing noisy sails

Sailors have a number of tools at their advantage to assist with trimming sails, electronics, mechanical and probably the most advantageous – yarn.  Yes, a piece of well placed yarn becomes a “tell-tail.”  These placed on the rigging or a sail help the person at the helm check their sail trim.  Tell tails should stream directly back.  

The captain of the boat that I sail on is the master of sail trim.  He isn’t happy until every sail that’s up is trimmed as perfectly as it can be.  He will squeeze every ounce of speed out of the sails, by making certain that they are perfectly trimmed.   At first he tries to engage us in his flurry of activities, but eventually he simply amuses himself because we have grown bored.  Once he has achieved perfection, a shift in the wind will require an adjustment in the sails, and I refer to this as “crank it in and let it out.”  You have to crank in the sail with a winch, and if you crank it in too much, you have to let it out.  Letting out is difficult.  So you crank in delicately, attempting to stop at just the right point. 

beautiful sailing

Sail trim is similar to how we navigate through life.  When we are out of whack with our guidance system, we tend to be noisy, whiny creatures.  We may seek the comfort of others who are equally out of trim, because all those requiring attention can feed off one another.  We really don’t go anywhere, sort of just drift about.  When we are trimmed out, our bows cut through the water, silent and speedy, following the course that has been laid out for us.  Here’s the catch, you don’t stay in trim.  What was a perfect sail configuration yesterday won’t be the same for today.  We have to constantly adjust our sails, paying attention to both the wind and the water. 

 

Katie boat at the dock at sunset

Marks along the way

Like driving on a highway, sailing on the ocean has signs or marks to guide your way.  And, just like being on the roadway, you can choose to follow them or not.  And, as you might expect, things go better when you follow the planned direction. 

Marks come in assortments.  Some are on fixed posts sticking out of the water with dayboards on them.  The dayboards are typically green and red, but also can have other configurations.  

The boards mark channels, and in most cases it is always better to stay in the channel.  For example, the Houston Ship Channel passes through Galveston Bay for ships heading into Houston from the Gulf of Mexico.  The Houston Ship Channel is about 40 feet deep, just outside the channel is about 9 feet deep. Big ship, 9 feet of water – in seaman’s terms that is called “Being on the hard.”  Channels can also be marked with metal buoys, which may be called cans or nuns.  The greens are often shaped by a cylinder or can, and the reds have little pointy tops, looking a bit like a Catholic Nun in her habit. 

Marks are also numbered.  So that a sailor following their marks should be able to determine their location based on the numbers on the marks.  Often when you are traveling to a particular marina the directions may include “turn at the red 59.”  The sailor would know precisely where they were to turn.  Confusion comes when many channels intersect.  For example, turning into Offutt’s Bayou, just outside of the Intercoastal Waterway near Galveston is at the junction of two channels, so the mark is actually a red/green dayboard.  So for some it is a return to the marina and for some it is the exit from another. 

One thing you have to watch for is marks that are out of place.  It is a pretty serious offense to move or tamper with a mark.  But often marks can “escape” or become so damaged as to be useless.  Kind of like us.  When we become unattached, drift or become so altered that others don’t see the light of Christ in us, then we are marks that are no longer effective.  And sometimes that just happens.  Maybe it’s neglect.  Maybe it’s lack of attention.  Maybe it’s because we put ourselves in places where we don’t serve our designed purpose. 

Let’s make a conscious choice.  To be the Marks we are meant to be, where we are meant to be. 

Getting from here to there

Much like going somewhere in your vehicle, sailing has approved lanes of travel.  And they are referred to with such phrases as channel, roads and freeway.  A channel is a specific area that is deemed safe for boat travel, and is typically maintained for that travel by dredging.  Often channels occur in areas that may be, too shallow and have been made deeper by the dredging.  For example, Galveston Bay is   a relatively shallow bay, but right through the middle of the bay is the Houston Ship Channel.  The depth of the channel is maintained at about 40 feet.  This is for the big ships to bring cargo into the Houston Port.  I say big ships, but not the massive ships.  Those must wait out in the Gulf of Mexico.  

Roads can be places where multiple channels meet.  One of the busiest seaway roads in the US is Bolivar roads, just outside of Galveston Texas.  At Bolivar Roads, the Texas City channel, the Houston Ship Channel and the Inter-coastal Waterway all intersect.  So you have big ships, long barges being pushed by towboats, shrimpers, pleasure craft, and for an added bonus, the ferry between Galveston and Bolivar trudging to and fro.  It is one of the busiest water crossings in the US.  Freeways are pretty much like vehicle freeways, vehicles moving about freely, avoiding one another.  It is not a place to anchor.  Of particular importance in the Gulf of Mexico is that you are not allowed to plant oil or gas rigs in the freeway.  Think of building a skyscraper in the middle of the interstate.  Not a good thing.  

One evening on a Gulf of Mexico crossing from Galveston to Port Aransas (9 hours by car - 42 hours by sailboat), my friend and I were on evening watch.  She was at the helm, I was on watch.  The moon was full.  The silence was only interrupted by the lapping of the waves against the boat and the occasional and infrequent clanking of a mark.  It was perhaps as quiet as you can imagine the earth being.  And as I scanned the horizon, and the surface of the water, as my job on watch was to do, off our port side probably at least 5 miles away was the silhouette of a massive ship.  Silently gliding parallel to us.  It was a hauntingly beautiful moment, one that revealed the beauty of nature and the thankfulness of technology which would have alerted us to her presence, had she been any closer. 

It was a strangely thin place.   

Sailing vocabulary

As with all things new, there comes a new vocabulary.  Or at least new definitions for words you may already know.  Clearly in sailing, there is a completely new vocabulary.  Let me introduce you to a few of these, and introduce you to the boat that I spend a great deal of time on, however, never enough. 

The boat that I sail on is the Katie. And whether named after women or not, all boats are referred to as females.  Some sailors say it's because they are fickle, others because you must spend time with them to know them well.  The Katie is a slow, comfortable boat.  Think recreational vehicle.  Think Airstream.  She has beautiful lines, is very well designed and is very forgiving.  She sails magnificently, and once she finds her track in the water, she will stay on it.  

Down below she is fully equipped. There is a galley (kitchen), in which one person at a time can stand. It has a two burner stove top and oven, a double sink, ample storage, and most importantly a fridge with freezer.  This is a massive refrigerator, think double door 20 cubic feet.  Keeps all the provisions, just right.  In the Main Salon -- dining area and sofas, there are two banks of settees, and a fold up table that will seat 8 in a pinch.  Usually just right for the three of us.  This is also our entertainment area.  In the evening we may watch streaming video or even watch images from the days exploration.  The main salon can also sleep up to three if required.  

There is the head -- bathroom.  It has a sink with pressurized water.  There is a pump toilet that acts like most camping toilets or toilets in Mexico -- it isn't always happy about paper.  When you close the door to the head and pull back the shower curtain, the faucet can be removed to use as a shower head.  It is even complete with a hook for the nozzle so that it appears to come out of the wall.  

There are two distinct sleeping quarters -- the V berth (bed) and the quarter berth.  Both can offer complete privacy, but we rarely close them off.   Generally my friends sleep in the quarter berth which is smaller accommodations, but they like to be close together.  It is in the aft or stern (rear) portion of the boat, near the navigation station.  So it makes sense for the Captain to be near the instruments and radio.  Typically, I sleep in the V-berth.  It is in the front (bow) of the boat, and is V shaped.  It is the bigger of the two private accommodations, but we often store stuff in the other half of the berth.  And because of the V shape people taller than 6 feet have difficulty fitting.  Even at 5'5" I often bump my head or my toes.  

While we are able to sleep on the boat anchored out, away from land, on the high seas if you will, that is not our preference.  We prefer to be in a marina, at a dock, attached to shore power and water.  That is how the AC runs.  

it is a form of living in community, albeit a very small community.  We each have tasks that we are assigned and the three of us depend on the others to complete their assigned tasks.  We meet others who travel in similar communities at yacht clubs, marinas, and other gatherings.  

it becomes a thin place

Sailing

I love sailing.  

My friends introduced me to sailing about 14 years ago, and I was addicted immediately.  It is freedom.  It is edgy.  It is driven by intellect.  Thinking people sail.  And perhaps, and best of all, it requires you to slow down. 

Two things.  Travel times are exponentially longer when sailing. For example, traveling from Houston to Galveston Texas by car takes about 45 minutes.  Houston to Galveston by sailboat takes about 6 - 7 hours.  The boat that I sail on has a top speed of 7 knots -- that's about 6 miles an hour. We travel at about 5 nautical miles per hour.  So you learn to take your time, because all you have is time.  And at most points of sail, you can't do anything but watch the world go by very, very slowly.  

Secondly, while it is easy to plan for the unexpected, the unexpected often occurs.  And that slows you down.  Once we were prepared for a quick 6 hour sail home, and the causeway was closed.  So we anchored out for 4 hours.  Waiting. Patiently for the bridge to open.  There was nothing we could do but anchor, and polish the teak.  Today we waited for a hurricane gate to open -- we waited for an hour and a half while workers finished the day on the gate.  So while we MIGHT have been at the dock at 5:00 p.m.  It was nearly 6:30 p.m.  So things that you take for granted in your daily commute, are actually not common place in sailing.  

This slowing of time gives you the opportunity to think and ponder on many things.  Most often I turn to prayer -- not for fear -- but for the beauty that surrounds me.  For this force of nature, water, that I get to be upon.  

And this is a thin place.  

Monastic timeshares

As you may be aware, I enjoy traveling.  Literally, that is what, in part, searching for thin places is about.

So on a mini-Isle of Iona reunion a couple of years ago, one of my more vollies and I traveled about Texas and on another fabulous island, Galveston we birthed the idea of Monastic Timeshares.  It's like sofa surfing, but with that monastic, holy flair.

While in Galveston, on Broadway we found an old, historic mansion for sale.  It was a 6 bedroom, seven bath home that had survived the storm of 1900.  We had a fabulous discussion about how we would operate a bed and breakfast for those seeking a holy retreat in an amazing setting.  It was located about 45 minutes south of Hobby Airport in Houston, and clearly not nearly as laborious to access as getting to Iona.  The only snag, well not the only snag, was that each of us wanted to have the blue bedroom. The larger issue was the price.  Which was a teeny bit more than our combined incomes, for the next 20 something years.

But the idea was born.  Monastic timeshares.  We decided that we each had "starter" homes for our timeshare, and could recruit more participants.  So a home in Brisbane, Australia, Bossier City, Louisiana and Galveston, Texas.  We worked on recruitng a member of the Iona community, but I am afraid that our extensive knowledge of squatters rights in the UK may have scared him off the idea.

Its a very cool idea.  To travel throughout the world, searching for the thinnest of places, staying with folks of a simliar bent.  That makes searching all the more enjoyable.

This could become a thinner place