(Note: The blog posts related to my sermons are not to be considered manuscripts. I do not use a manuscript in my preparation, but I blog as a means to get my thoughts in order. Some of the ideas may be incomplete, but for those who like to reference sermons, this is the best way to share the sermon after (sometimes before) it is preached. Happy Thanksgiving to you all.)
Psalm 126
I think all of our communities are in need of some restoration. Though the decisions of our respective denominations may have faded from national news, discussions about theology, the way we read the Bible, the leadership of our congregations, and how we work together are on the collective minds and mouths and electronic media of Lutheran and Episcopalian Christians all over the United States. Even if theological and church governance issues were the only things our respective denominations were facing, the declining trend of both of our denominations both in resources and people makes it easy for people to look at our respective denominations with uncertainty at best and despair at the worst.
Granted, each community holds their own story about what is hopeful in the lives of their congregation, but in my 11 years of ordained ministry, and in my life in the Church in general, I have never seen so many people discouraged in their outlook on the Church. Our text from Matthew offers some wisdom. Jesus says not to worry and strive for the Kingdom of God. I think this is a good way to look at some of the anxiety that faces our lives. However, I want to turn to Psalm 126 because it gets to the heart of what will be a part of our collective culture tonight and tomorrow as the United States celebrates Thanksgiving. We are thinking about what it means to be thankful, and many of us engage in the activity of naming, thinking and/or writing about what in our lives inspires thankfulness. In Matthew, Jesus tells us that God provides abundantly for the creation, even for creatures who don't worry as we often do.
Psalm 126 is a Psalm of Ascents, which Walter Brueggemann calls Israel's public statements of thankfulness. Thankfulness is not merely an emotional response to the good things in life, but it a public act in response to the generosity of God. Rolf Jacobsen from Luther Seminary notes that in Psalm 126, thankfulness and restoration are linked. God restores a people whom have been beaten down and experienced community destruction. Restoration is not an act of magic, it is not an execution of a public relations, spin, or the technical savvy by using photo shop. Restoration is not even linked directly to hard work. Primarily, in Psalm 126, restoration is linked to a public statement of thanks, which is this Song of Ascents.
Why is it so important that thankfulness is public? Why do we not merely sit around our Thanksgiving dinner tables or dessert tables and talk about for what we are thankful? Restoration comes when "the nations" recognize that we are thankful. It actually does matter how the rest of the world perceives us. God is using the nations as a mirror for how well we publicly proclaim thankfulness.
Pastor Jerry Hoffman was instrumental for Melanie and me and how we publicly proclaim thankfulness. Many times when people ask Jerry how he's doing, he responds, "Grateful." It stuck in my relationship with Melanie, though she is much more proficient in proclaiming gratitude. That basic practice has also guided our ministry and how we choose to be present in the community. It's fun to watch people's response to a proclamation of gratitude in everyday life.
Do people see God in our actions? What do the nations see? If we put our energy toward living a thankful life for ourselves and as community of faith, we will see the restorative power of God in Christ Jesus--in our congregational lives, and in our own lives.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
New Twitter account for First Lutheran Church, Port Orchard, WA
After working with "your average pastor" for approximately 3 months, I found it increasingly strange to write news updates directly on the blog. It doesn't fit the flow of my writing. We opened up a new Twitter account for First Lutheran Community Church, and hope that those of you interested in FLCC news briefs will follow the updates. I will still offer reflections on specific events, but the shorter announcements won't appear on the blog any longer. Thanks for continuing to check out the blog, I hope my writing is a blessing for you (or at least interesting).
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
The Standing Committee Variable in Congregations
I have repeatedly articulated my initial elation in encountering a congregation without standing committees. My energy reserves remain strong without depletion from managing bureaucracy, power struggles, artificially-mandated leadership shifts and the approach to ministry resembling four vehicles coming to a four-way stop at the same time:
"No, you can do it. You're so good at that."
"Please, it was your idea, it's a great idea, you run with it."
"No, we can't, this is really your area of ministry."
"Okay, we will do it."
"Why did you do it that way?"
"Why did you tell us to run with it if you were going to try to dictate how we did it?"
"Doesn't this committee do anything? Pastor, we need help!"
In some ways, I found the relational and organizational dynamics of a bureaucratic web interesting, but in the end, what was a curiosity to me was getting in the way of the foundation of my call to ministry. In my youth, I experienced a congregation where people served their neighbors abundantly in the name of Christ. The difference in the congregation with standing committees versus no standing committees is not that they serve and serve well. The difference is the word, abundantly.
Managing one ministry opportunity in a web of standing committees can easily take 6-12 months to get an idea to work (not all ideas, but this was a familiar pattern now serving in my 10th congregation) and even if the idea made its way through the bureaucracy, something could change because someone's term was up or committees would change members--and the idea filtering could start all over again. It was an agonizing process for me and many committee members and leaders in the various congregations I served.
For a pastor and staff, the bureaucratic structure created by a complex web of committees, a board, pastors and staff is an incredible resource drain--time, money and energy are a stewardship nightmare in most congregations I know. This weakness is exposed even more in an era where people do not have as much time to invest in congregational bureaucracy. People want to know the time they invest means something. A standing committee, though it can be effective at times, appears wasteful to potential committee members. Committee effectiveness appears to be a crapshoot at best. If I was still working on my sociology Ph.D., I would probably be writing a paper on the standing committee variable in congregations and possibly non-profits in relation to some kind of production data. This kind of paper writing is not in my immediate future (or is it)? I have different fish to broil (I'm trying to eat in a more healthful manner).
Back to where the rubber hits the road regarding standing committees, or lack thereof. I had my initial elation in not attending three hour meetings, two to four nights per week at First Lutheran Community Church during my first three months of employment. I have time at home! I can read to my kids, and sing "Jesus Loves Me" before they go to bed. I can monitor Kendall's homework, I can sing songs with Ashling. I can connect with Melanie on most evenings. Family life is good, and I work a manageable schedule with occasional evening or Saturday activities. I notice that even though I am not involved in 12-15 evening meetings per month (not including educational, leadership, fellowship, worship, or pastoral care types of work), more ministry seems to happen all around me. Sooner or later, I would have an idea for ministry at First Lutheran Community Church, and see what it was really like to work with volunteers in the congregation in this church governance structure. I talked with the volunteer "Volunteer Coordinator," shared my idea, and she set up a meeting with some congregational volunteers last Sunday. I think there were 10 people in attendance.
What happened at this meeting? I shared a more developed idea than what I shared with the Volunteer Coordinator, and I waited for their feedback. What was different? Not one person in the group spoke negatively of the idea. No one spoke about a bureaucratic maze, stepping on someone's toes, an impending turf war, or how something similar had been attempted and how it couldn't work under current circumstances. People looked for a way to make an idea take wings. People were employing the notion of what could be possible with God in a tangible way, and not merely a positive thinking push by discouraged people. By the end of the 45 minute meeting, around 10 people knew their exact responsibility, and I had no doubt they would follow through. I know there will be challenges along the way for this ministry, but it won't lack for energy, creativity, and the gift-affirming action of the people in that room. The Spirit was moving as I employed a provocation of the Holy Spirit when an idea took shape, and God breathed life into a dream. My role is to encourage the group, re-articulate the dream, help provide prayerful, biblical and marketing content, and prepare for grant writing. What few meetings I have attended at FLCC have been incredibly productive.
Up to this point, I have written about the process of a ministry idea developed. Next week, I will write about the content of this ministry because that is even more exciting to me than the process. I love process, but process is joyful when it will make a difference in the lives of those people serving and the people being served--all in the name of Christ.
"No, you can do it. You're so good at that."
"Please, it was your idea, it's a great idea, you run with it."
"No, we can't, this is really your area of ministry."
"Okay, we will do it."
"Why did you do it that way?"
"Why did you tell us to run with it if you were going to try to dictate how we did it?"
"Doesn't this committee do anything? Pastor, we need help!"
In some ways, I found the relational and organizational dynamics of a bureaucratic web interesting, but in the end, what was a curiosity to me was getting in the way of the foundation of my call to ministry. In my youth, I experienced a congregation where people served their neighbors abundantly in the name of Christ. The difference in the congregation with standing committees versus no standing committees is not that they serve and serve well. The difference is the word, abundantly.
Managing one ministry opportunity in a web of standing committees can easily take 6-12 months to get an idea to work (not all ideas, but this was a familiar pattern now serving in my 10th congregation) and even if the idea made its way through the bureaucracy, something could change because someone's term was up or committees would change members--and the idea filtering could start all over again. It was an agonizing process for me and many committee members and leaders in the various congregations I served.
For a pastor and staff, the bureaucratic structure created by a complex web of committees, a board, pastors and staff is an incredible resource drain--time, money and energy are a stewardship nightmare in most congregations I know. This weakness is exposed even more in an era where people do not have as much time to invest in congregational bureaucracy. People want to know the time they invest means something. A standing committee, though it can be effective at times, appears wasteful to potential committee members. Committee effectiveness appears to be a crapshoot at best. If I was still working on my sociology Ph.D., I would probably be writing a paper on the standing committee variable in congregations and possibly non-profits in relation to some kind of production data. This kind of paper writing is not in my immediate future (or is it)? I have different fish to broil (I'm trying to eat in a more healthful manner).
Back to where the rubber hits the road regarding standing committees, or lack thereof. I had my initial elation in not attending three hour meetings, two to four nights per week at First Lutheran Community Church during my first three months of employment. I have time at home! I can read to my kids, and sing "Jesus Loves Me" before they go to bed. I can monitor Kendall's homework, I can sing songs with Ashling. I can connect with Melanie on most evenings. Family life is good, and I work a manageable schedule with occasional evening or Saturday activities. I notice that even though I am not involved in 12-15 evening meetings per month (not including educational, leadership, fellowship, worship, or pastoral care types of work), more ministry seems to happen all around me. Sooner or later, I would have an idea for ministry at First Lutheran Community Church, and see what it was really like to work with volunteers in the congregation in this church governance structure. I talked with the volunteer "Volunteer Coordinator," shared my idea, and she set up a meeting with some congregational volunteers last Sunday. I think there were 10 people in attendance.
What happened at this meeting? I shared a more developed idea than what I shared with the Volunteer Coordinator, and I waited for their feedback. What was different? Not one person in the group spoke negatively of the idea. No one spoke about a bureaucratic maze, stepping on someone's toes, an impending turf war, or how something similar had been attempted and how it couldn't work under current circumstances. People looked for a way to make an idea take wings. People were employing the notion of what could be possible with God in a tangible way, and not merely a positive thinking push by discouraged people. By the end of the 45 minute meeting, around 10 people knew their exact responsibility, and I had no doubt they would follow through. I know there will be challenges along the way for this ministry, but it won't lack for energy, creativity, and the gift-affirming action of the people in that room. The Spirit was moving as I employed a provocation of the Holy Spirit when an idea took shape, and God breathed life into a dream. My role is to encourage the group, re-articulate the dream, help provide prayerful, biblical and marketing content, and prepare for grant writing. What few meetings I have attended at FLCC have been incredibly productive.
Up to this point, I have written about the process of a ministry idea developed. Next week, I will write about the content of this ministry because that is even more exciting to me than the process. I love process, but process is joyful when it will make a difference in the lives of those people serving and the people being served--all in the name of Christ.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Don’t let public discourse about Christmas get you down
(This article will appear in the upcoming December edition First Lutheran Community Church newsletter)
Jesus is the reason for the season.
Why do people say “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas” these days?
There’s a war on Christmas in this country.
I am thankful to an ELCA colleague in Upstate New York, Pastor Justin Johnson, for his blog post guiding my reflection on my Advent and Christmas practices regarding the meaning of Jesus’ birth and how I observe and celebrate that world-changing event with my family and the Church. I do not ascribe to any of the aforementioned statements about Christmas. Why? Because these statements represent public discourse about how people wish to direct their energy in the month of December (give or take a few weeks or months). These statements represent preferences, and the propensity for humans to want their preferences to be normative for the entire society or culture. Another point regarding public discourse about Christmas is the frenzied tone created to gain television ratings, make a political statement, or sell us something. None of these public discourse goals is inherently evil, but I believe we should recognize different public conversations regarding conversations for what they are--not the guiding force for how we connect with God.
How could anyone possibly articulate the “true meaning of Christmas” when people are arguing about their preferences? Each congregation, family, neighborhood or city can have their own local customs regarding their celebration. It is my responsibility to lift up the story of Jesus’ birth and what it means for us as Lutheran Christians. I look for what the birth of Jesus says about the identity and activity of God. All of the cultural attachments to Christmas are wonderful in that they represent our diversity as God’s children—our culture around Christmas connects us with people we love and presents to us opportunities to serve our neighbor. It is our calling as Lutheran Christians to celebrate what God is doing in the story of the birth of Jesus. It is important to recognize what we can proclaim as normative through the story about Jesus’ birth. The arguments stated at the beginning of this article represent more about what humans do than what God does. Let us welcome our neighbors to worship with us on Christmas Eve at 5, 7, and 9 pm and tell them what this birth story says about God (just to name a few things):
+ God is passionate about being with us in our humanity and values humanity.
+ God doesn’t connect with people because of societal position. God seeks to empower the outcasts.
+ The powers of the world are no match for the love of God in Christ Jesus.
+ God has big ideas and work for the world (and for us) with Jesus.
My message to you: marvelously enjoy your family and congregational celebrations. Love and serve your family, friends and neighbors. Do what you can and try not to do too much. But also give your voice to proclaim that God’s actions in Jesus give us the opportunity to live our lives with joy. May this season of anticipation of God’s action in the birth of Christ bring you joy and peace.
Jesus is the reason for the season.
Why do people say “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas” these days?
There’s a war on Christmas in this country.
I am thankful to an ELCA colleague in Upstate New York, Pastor Justin Johnson, for his blog post guiding my reflection on my Advent and Christmas practices regarding the meaning of Jesus’ birth and how I observe and celebrate that world-changing event with my family and the Church. I do not ascribe to any of the aforementioned statements about Christmas. Why? Because these statements represent public discourse about how people wish to direct their energy in the month of December (give or take a few weeks or months). These statements represent preferences, and the propensity for humans to want their preferences to be normative for the entire society or culture. Another point regarding public discourse about Christmas is the frenzied tone created to gain television ratings, make a political statement, or sell us something. None of these public discourse goals is inherently evil, but I believe we should recognize different public conversations regarding conversations for what they are--not the guiding force for how we connect with God.
How could anyone possibly articulate the “true meaning of Christmas” when people are arguing about their preferences? Each congregation, family, neighborhood or city can have their own local customs regarding their celebration. It is my responsibility to lift up the story of Jesus’ birth and what it means for us as Lutheran Christians. I look for what the birth of Jesus says about the identity and activity of God. All of the cultural attachments to Christmas are wonderful in that they represent our diversity as God’s children—our culture around Christmas connects us with people we love and presents to us opportunities to serve our neighbor. It is our calling as Lutheran Christians to celebrate what God is doing in the story of the birth of Jesus. It is important to recognize what we can proclaim as normative through the story about Jesus’ birth. The arguments stated at the beginning of this article represent more about what humans do than what God does. Let us welcome our neighbors to worship with us on Christmas Eve at 5, 7, and 9 pm and tell them what this birth story says about God (just to name a few things):
+ God is passionate about being with us in our humanity and values humanity.
+ God doesn’t connect with people because of societal position. God seeks to empower the outcasts.
+ The powers of the world are no match for the love of God in Christ Jesus.
+ God has big ideas and work for the world (and for us) with Jesus.
My message to you: marvelously enjoy your family and congregational celebrations. Love and serve your family, friends and neighbors. Do what you can and try not to do too much. But also give your voice to proclaim that God’s actions in Jesus give us the opportunity to live our lives with joy. May this season of anticipation of God’s action in the birth of Christ bring you joy and peace.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Anecdotal lassitude in my new/old synod
I'm starting to meet more people around my new/old synod in Southwestern Washington. It's new synod because my wife began serving here in May after 8 1/2 years in South Dakota, and I officially began here with a call in September. This is the third synod I've served in 11 years, and the hospitality is cordial. It's challenging to maneuver in new collegial circles, because colleague fellowship looks different in each place. I always find smart, gifted and faithful people. I'm not sure if I'm finding joyful people (outside of my ministry partner at First Lutheran Community Church--he could find joy in the most dire of circumstances).
The Southwestern Washington Synod is an old synod for me because it was my home base synod when I came home from college and seminary for breaks, and it sponsored my candidacy. The SW WA Synod didn't explicitly mean anything to me until I needed it for the candidacy process, and they were willing supporters and advocates. Once I made it through the candidacy process, Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd in Olympia gave me a great send off in congratulating me and praying for me and my wife in ordination. We were off to the Greater Milwaukee Synod for our first calls--that synod was new to both Melanie and me and a great place to start our ministry. Regardless of where we have served, I could always find some level of joy in my colleagues. Sure, they complained sometimes like I did on our tired days. We were weighed down by committee responsibilities and anxious church councils, conflicts and stewardship. We grieved with our communities about deaths and changes that we didn't understand. But we were generally hopeful people together. It didn't matter if I was in an urban, suburban or rural setting communicating with local pastors, we also often talked about what God could be doing in our communities.
Since my return to the SW Washington Synod, I have seen the economy and the fallout from the Churchwide Assembly decisions weigh heavily on my colleagues. I have yet to meet a pastor whose congregation wasn't affected by either the economy, the decisions, or even the general downward trend in the denomination of attendance, membership and giving. Certainly, there have been bright spots regarding ministries. However, I'm missing out on joyful anticipation of God's action in my colleagues. The body language and level of conversation point a deflated sense of being. I hope God is breathing life into my colleagues. I think I can help and relay some hope--I have some things at First Lutheran Community Church for which I am hopeful. I have a group with whom I'm meeting on Sunday to discuss a new evangelism/outreach project. I have a Transition Team that will begin meeting in the next week or two--their enthusiasm is contagious. I also have a faithful and efficient staff with whom I work. But it's hard not to feel the effects of a negative trend. The people of God's lassitude from the downturn is palpable. Their slouch is noticeable. Am I imagining things? Is this lassitude I see anecdotal? Or are there pockets of hopefulness in God's mission that can be see beyond pain and together embrace an active and faithful God? Rather than trying to cut a church into prosperity, we can talk about taking risks, harnessing the power of the Holy Spirit, and ushering the creativity that God shared with us in the first place?
Maybe I'm not looking hard enough, or my observational scope is limited. Maybe I'm overly optimistic to see opportunity in what appears to be a greater challenge than mere pastors and congregations can bear. I hope my observations are merely anecdotal, and that in the next few days and weeks, I will hear joyful stories of anticipation in what God is doing with my sisters and brothers at their mission outposts in Southwestern Washington.
The Southwestern Washington Synod is an old synod for me because it was my home base synod when I came home from college and seminary for breaks, and it sponsored my candidacy. The SW WA Synod didn't explicitly mean anything to me until I needed it for the candidacy process, and they were willing supporters and advocates. Once I made it through the candidacy process, Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd in Olympia gave me a great send off in congratulating me and praying for me and my wife in ordination. We were off to the Greater Milwaukee Synod for our first calls--that synod was new to both Melanie and me and a great place to start our ministry. Regardless of where we have served, I could always find some level of joy in my colleagues. Sure, they complained sometimes like I did on our tired days. We were weighed down by committee responsibilities and anxious church councils, conflicts and stewardship. We grieved with our communities about deaths and changes that we didn't understand. But we were generally hopeful people together. It didn't matter if I was in an urban, suburban or rural setting communicating with local pastors, we also often talked about what God could be doing in our communities.
Since my return to the SW Washington Synod, I have seen the economy and the fallout from the Churchwide Assembly decisions weigh heavily on my colleagues. I have yet to meet a pastor whose congregation wasn't affected by either the economy, the decisions, or even the general downward trend in the denomination of attendance, membership and giving. Certainly, there have been bright spots regarding ministries. However, I'm missing out on joyful anticipation of God's action in my colleagues. The body language and level of conversation point a deflated sense of being. I hope God is breathing life into my colleagues. I think I can help and relay some hope--I have some things at First Lutheran Community Church for which I am hopeful. I have a group with whom I'm meeting on Sunday to discuss a new evangelism/outreach project. I have a Transition Team that will begin meeting in the next week or two--their enthusiasm is contagious. I also have a faithful and efficient staff with whom I work. But it's hard not to feel the effects of a negative trend. The people of God's lassitude from the downturn is palpable. Their slouch is noticeable. Am I imagining things? Is this lassitude I see anecdotal? Or are there pockets of hopefulness in God's mission that can be see beyond pain and together embrace an active and faithful God? Rather than trying to cut a church into prosperity, we can talk about taking risks, harnessing the power of the Holy Spirit, and ushering the creativity that God shared with us in the first place?
Maybe I'm not looking hard enough, or my observational scope is limited. Maybe I'm overly optimistic to see opportunity in what appears to be a greater challenge than mere pastors and congregations can bear. I hope my observations are merely anecdotal, and that in the next few days and weeks, I will hear joyful stories of anticipation in what God is doing with my sisters and brothers at their mission outposts in Southwestern Washington.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Learning from the dry times--and an offering of thanks
I wasn't kidding when I wrote and said that grief is paralyzing to creativity. I've had almost no desire to write for the past week. Writing what little I did last week and the sermon on Sunday was purely God, because I certainly didn't want to do it. I'm still a little hesitant, but I cleared some clutter out of my office and home and I feel the effects of being mentally "defragmented (I can't believe I used a Windows term)". I have my possessions and ideas going in good directions.
It's important to learn from the dry times as well as the abundant times. "Blessed are the poor in Spirit," said someone who loves me.
Sometimes meaning doesn't come to those who grieve or suffer, but I learned that I can still offer encouragement to someone else, even when I am grieving. Yesterday I received a reply from the Humane Society in Waukesha County, Wisconsin, where we sent a memorial for Hunter:
"...thank you so much for your beautiful tribute to Hunter - reminds us why we do what we do here, and that it is worthwhile, even when the odds don't look favorable! WE are thankful to you for giving Hunter a wonderful life - your family is in our thoughts."
Thanks to all of you who reached out to me during a dry and sad time. When I look back over the past several weeks, it really was more like winter. Life was merely cold and buried. Life still may feel cold, but I know life is there.
It's important to learn from the dry times as well as the abundant times. "Blessed are the poor in Spirit," said someone who loves me.
Sometimes meaning doesn't come to those who grieve or suffer, but I learned that I can still offer encouragement to someone else, even when I am grieving. Yesterday I received a reply from the Humane Society in Waukesha County, Wisconsin, where we sent a memorial for Hunter:
"...thank you so much for your beautiful tribute to Hunter - reminds us why we do what we do here, and that it is worthwhile, even when the odds don't look favorable! WE are thankful to you for giving Hunter a wonderful life - your family is in our thoughts."
Thanks to all of you who reached out to me during a dry and sad time. When I look back over the past several weeks, it really was more like winter. Life was merely cold and buried. Life still may feel cold, but I know life is there.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
New insights cultivated by grief--maybe foundations for a sermon on joy?
What moves someone toward a call to ordained ministry?
I often wondered about the call to ministry while I was in seminary. I met a diverse group of people at Luther Seminary who changed their entire lives to enter a vocation that would often times drive them to immense pain and despair. For example, people uprooted their families or gave up lucrative opportunities either with the student or the spouse, or took on huge amounts of debt. I'm not speaking to the wisdom of these choices, but the motivation behind these choices. Sometimes the call seems inevitable. I met several people who would be third or fourth generation clergy. For others it involved a powerful experience at a Lutheran camp, or a significant connection with a local congregation or pastor. For others becoming a pastor represented a strong faith and cultural heritage. I heard many stories of people who experienced the grace of God in the midst of grief.
I didn't relate to many of these kinds of stories, which made me question my call to ministry. If these were the stories that produced the call to ministry, how was my story going to fit in to the life of the Church as an ordained pastor? If these were the stories of God's people, and the stories of people called to serve in ordained ministry, how was I called to proclaim the Gospel if I didn't share similar experiences with the people I served? I know that sometimes we walk into situations where we are called to share God's love with people in which we have little in common in experience--but sometimes the gaps can be daunting. I recall some leaders in the Church who affirmed my calling and told me to have that call be molded by the Holy Spirit and my own experience, and not to worry so much about the expectations compiled by the human element of the Church. That kind of encouragement sealed my call to ordained ministry as I know it today. How I will live out that calling may change, but I am confident in that call. Sometimes calling gets muddled in the day to day activities of congregational life.
One particular part of ordained ministry that has always challenged me is to be present with grieving people. I don't believe that people receive equal portions of grief in their life or that grief is coming soon for those who haven't experienced much of it, or even that grief is coming for those who somehow "deserve" it. I haven't experienced a large portion of grief in my life. My grandfather (to whom I was very close) died in 2001, and I miss him to this day. But grief is not a prominent emotional experience of my life.
I mightily struggled through my required chaplaincy at Virginia Mason Hospital in Seattle during the summer of 1995. I was often paralyzed, and other times I tried to follow some kind of pastoral care flow chart that made me look like a buffoon. Though many pastoral care and psychiatric professionals have written about stages of grief and leave lots of room for interpretation, if I've learned anything about grief, I've learned that it's not like following a recipe or a set of instructions for putting together a child's toy. Addressing grief is really about listening--guided by love, trust and wisdom. For all of the grieving families whom I have served over 11 years of ordained ministry, I can see what they experience, and do my best to listen, but the depth of my empathy is somewhat limited. It's taken me about 10 years to realize that that is okay.
Yesterday, my wife and I put to sleep our 12 1/2 year old chocolate lab, Hunter. His health was declining on multiple levels rapidly, and he had lost a lot of who he was. There were a few things that could not be taken away from Hunter, regardless of his health. He would never do anything to intentionally disappoint his people, and all he basically wanted was to be near Melanie, me, and our two daughters. Basic sustenance was secondary to him, all he wanted was our companionship. He never held it over our heads when we weren't able to give him companionship, he always rejoiced in what we could or would give him. We weren't looking forward to the day when we would have to make a decision about his life, we hoped that he would just lay down one night, go to sleep, and not wake up. Though we hoped for something a little easier, we experienced many gifts from Hunter, even as our family prepared to say goodbye to him. I'm glad we were able to say goodbye as we did. Hunter was never alone for the last 72 hours of his life. We gave him some of his favorite treats, took him on his favorite kind of nature walks, took him to the beach, gave him a lot of extra attention and took pictures with him.
The first gift for me in Hunter's last days was to learn more about grief. Grief is creatively paralyzing (at least for me). Though many people don't consider themselves "creative," we each create something every day. Sometimes a creative act involves making meals for a family member, creating hospitality in our everyday interactions, creating wealth so that others can make a living, creating reports so that people can be informed, creating paintings so that others may experience beauty, and so on. Giving is a creative act of love initiated by God, and when we give, we experience and pass on the love poured out in God's creative activity. The past four days I could not put together a coherent thought. The best ministry work I could do was involved tasks I can do on automatic pilot, and even those took more thought than usual. I miss Hunter and all that he did and all that he represents. I thought I heard him stirring in the house last night, but it was some other noise. I looked for him as I woke up in the middle of the night, only to be saddened by his vacancy from a place where we could almost always find him. Melanie and I talked about Hunter until the fatigue of grief overtook our desire to stay awake and talk about Hunter.
In grief I recall the temptation to stay away from anything that produces grief. Giving of self always involves risk--and we do so much to protect ourselves from giving of ourselves. Sometimes the risk of interaction is important to recognize and heed (protection is important). But look at the other side of that safety/risk-averse side of the coin. Look at the society we have "created"--where we put ourselves out in the world, yet we do whatever we can to minimize the risk of basic human interaction. Look at how people interact on Facebook, Twitter, on message boards and blogs. We have caller ID for phones to keep out of unwanted conversations or commerce. We institute passwords or cloaked identities to stay away from possibly damaging interaction. We install security systems to keep away predators. Sometimes people wear headphones to stay out of basic human interaction (I remember living and commuting in Washington D.C., where keeping away from human interaction was an artistic and athletic endeavor). We have fast food and payment systems that take away basic human interaction. We have automated phone answering systems that take away human interaction or farm out that interaction to someone thousands of miles away. Our society is taking away basic human interaction because it's more efficient to do so. Taking away basic human interaction appears very cost effective. To invest in relationships is not cost effective, and it also appears more foolish all the time.
However, God is the primary investor in relationships (does this make God a foolish investor?). This investment is laid out in the creation stories of Genesis. This investment is laid out all over the first five books in the Bible. God gives self and gives to basic human interaction. God does not sidestep relationships for the sake of efficiency. God knows that if we don't interact and relate, we die. Such is the case for a baby. If a baby doesn't have consistent, basic human interaction--they die or come close to it. It's called failure to thrive. Human interaction carries inherent risk. Someone may not understand us. They may reject us. Someone may get angry at me. Someone may do something unkind to you. We experience pain in relationships. But we cannot experience joy without investing in relationships. God's initial creative acts in the world was all set up with risk, yet great love so that we may experience God's love in joy. I hope that in sharing stories about God's action through people affecting people in a positive way through the ministries of First Lutheran Community Church that you have seen that though risky, investment in people is joyful. Though grief may be incredibly painful, it is all part of the joy that we experience in giving love and receiving love. In the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25: 14-30), two of the servants are able to risk, yet multiply their gifts because they believe and trust in God's initial creative act. For the third servant, he wants to avoid grief and pain, yet experience more of it because they are not willing to trust in God's investment into relationships. The third servant is afraid to invest in relationships and lives in fear.
An investment in God's work in the world through the Church is a creative act. Your giving to God's work at First Lutheran Community Church is an investment in relationships and basic human interaction filled with God's grace, love and mercy. These investments are inherently risky, especially in a society that does whatever it can to stay away from the risk of human interaction. Through the grief of the death this week of my dog, Hunter, I have seen how much I want to avoid the pain of loss and how paralyzing grief can be. Investing in love is inherently risky, because it never seems to play out like we planned. But we have a God who went great lengths, to the death of God's only son, so that we may know that God's initial creative act of love in the world will never be conquered. Though extending that investment in our own lives seems incredibly risky, when we give in response to God's generosity, we enter into God's joy.
I often wondered about the call to ministry while I was in seminary. I met a diverse group of people at Luther Seminary who changed their entire lives to enter a vocation that would often times drive them to immense pain and despair. For example, people uprooted their families or gave up lucrative opportunities either with the student or the spouse, or took on huge amounts of debt. I'm not speaking to the wisdom of these choices, but the motivation behind these choices. Sometimes the call seems inevitable. I met several people who would be third or fourth generation clergy. For others it involved a powerful experience at a Lutheran camp, or a significant connection with a local congregation or pastor. For others becoming a pastor represented a strong faith and cultural heritage. I heard many stories of people who experienced the grace of God in the midst of grief.
I didn't relate to many of these kinds of stories, which made me question my call to ministry. If these were the stories that produced the call to ministry, how was my story going to fit in to the life of the Church as an ordained pastor? If these were the stories of God's people, and the stories of people called to serve in ordained ministry, how was I called to proclaim the Gospel if I didn't share similar experiences with the people I served? I know that sometimes we walk into situations where we are called to share God's love with people in which we have little in common in experience--but sometimes the gaps can be daunting. I recall some leaders in the Church who affirmed my calling and told me to have that call be molded by the Holy Spirit and my own experience, and not to worry so much about the expectations compiled by the human element of the Church. That kind of encouragement sealed my call to ordained ministry as I know it today. How I will live out that calling may change, but I am confident in that call. Sometimes calling gets muddled in the day to day activities of congregational life.
One particular part of ordained ministry that has always challenged me is to be present with grieving people. I don't believe that people receive equal portions of grief in their life or that grief is coming soon for those who haven't experienced much of it, or even that grief is coming for those who somehow "deserve" it. I haven't experienced a large portion of grief in my life. My grandfather (to whom I was very close) died in 2001, and I miss him to this day. But grief is not a prominent emotional experience of my life.
I mightily struggled through my required chaplaincy at Virginia Mason Hospital in Seattle during the summer of 1995. I was often paralyzed, and other times I tried to follow some kind of pastoral care flow chart that made me look like a buffoon. Though many pastoral care and psychiatric professionals have written about stages of grief and leave lots of room for interpretation, if I've learned anything about grief, I've learned that it's not like following a recipe or a set of instructions for putting together a child's toy. Addressing grief is really about listening--guided by love, trust and wisdom. For all of the grieving families whom I have served over 11 years of ordained ministry, I can see what they experience, and do my best to listen, but the depth of my empathy is somewhat limited. It's taken me about 10 years to realize that that is okay.
Yesterday, my wife and I put to sleep our 12 1/2 year old chocolate lab, Hunter. His health was declining on multiple levels rapidly, and he had lost a lot of who he was. There were a few things that could not be taken away from Hunter, regardless of his health. He would never do anything to intentionally disappoint his people, and all he basically wanted was to be near Melanie, me, and our two daughters. Basic sustenance was secondary to him, all he wanted was our companionship. He never held it over our heads when we weren't able to give him companionship, he always rejoiced in what we could or would give him. We weren't looking forward to the day when we would have to make a decision about his life, we hoped that he would just lay down one night, go to sleep, and not wake up. Though we hoped for something a little easier, we experienced many gifts from Hunter, even as our family prepared to say goodbye to him. I'm glad we were able to say goodbye as we did. Hunter was never alone for the last 72 hours of his life. We gave him some of his favorite treats, took him on his favorite kind of nature walks, took him to the beach, gave him a lot of extra attention and took pictures with him.
The first gift for me in Hunter's last days was to learn more about grief. Grief is creatively paralyzing (at least for me). Though many people don't consider themselves "creative," we each create something every day. Sometimes a creative act involves making meals for a family member, creating hospitality in our everyday interactions, creating wealth so that others can make a living, creating reports so that people can be informed, creating paintings so that others may experience beauty, and so on. Giving is a creative act of love initiated by God, and when we give, we experience and pass on the love poured out in God's creative activity. The past four days I could not put together a coherent thought. The best ministry work I could do was involved tasks I can do on automatic pilot, and even those took more thought than usual. I miss Hunter and all that he did and all that he represents. I thought I heard him stirring in the house last night, but it was some other noise. I looked for him as I woke up in the middle of the night, only to be saddened by his vacancy from a place where we could almost always find him. Melanie and I talked about Hunter until the fatigue of grief overtook our desire to stay awake and talk about Hunter.
In grief I recall the temptation to stay away from anything that produces grief. Giving of self always involves risk--and we do so much to protect ourselves from giving of ourselves. Sometimes the risk of interaction is important to recognize and heed (protection is important). But look at the other side of that safety/risk-averse side of the coin. Look at the society we have "created"--where we put ourselves out in the world, yet we do whatever we can to minimize the risk of basic human interaction. Look at how people interact on Facebook, Twitter, on message boards and blogs. We have caller ID for phones to keep out of unwanted conversations or commerce. We institute passwords or cloaked identities to stay away from possibly damaging interaction. We install security systems to keep away predators. Sometimes people wear headphones to stay out of basic human interaction (I remember living and commuting in Washington D.C., where keeping away from human interaction was an artistic and athletic endeavor). We have fast food and payment systems that take away basic human interaction. We have automated phone answering systems that take away human interaction or farm out that interaction to someone thousands of miles away. Our society is taking away basic human interaction because it's more efficient to do so. Taking away basic human interaction appears very cost effective. To invest in relationships is not cost effective, and it also appears more foolish all the time.
However, God is the primary investor in relationships (does this make God a foolish investor?). This investment is laid out in the creation stories of Genesis. This investment is laid out all over the first five books in the Bible. God gives self and gives to basic human interaction. God does not sidestep relationships for the sake of efficiency. God knows that if we don't interact and relate, we die. Such is the case for a baby. If a baby doesn't have consistent, basic human interaction--they die or come close to it. It's called failure to thrive. Human interaction carries inherent risk. Someone may not understand us. They may reject us. Someone may get angry at me. Someone may do something unkind to you. We experience pain in relationships. But we cannot experience joy without investing in relationships. God's initial creative acts in the world was all set up with risk, yet great love so that we may experience God's love in joy. I hope that in sharing stories about God's action through people affecting people in a positive way through the ministries of First Lutheran Community Church that you have seen that though risky, investment in people is joyful. Though grief may be incredibly painful, it is all part of the joy that we experience in giving love and receiving love. In the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25: 14-30), two of the servants are able to risk, yet multiply their gifts because they believe and trust in God's initial creative act. For the third servant, he wants to avoid grief and pain, yet experience more of it because they are not willing to trust in God's investment into relationships. The third servant is afraid to invest in relationships and lives in fear.
An investment in God's work in the world through the Church is a creative act. Your giving to God's work at First Lutheran Community Church is an investment in relationships and basic human interaction filled with God's grace, love and mercy. These investments are inherently risky, especially in a society that does whatever it can to stay away from the risk of human interaction. Through the grief of the death this week of my dog, Hunter, I have seen how much I want to avoid the pain of loss and how paralyzing grief can be. Investing in love is inherently risky, because it never seems to play out like we planned. But we have a God who went great lengths, to the death of God's only son, so that we may know that God's initial creative act of love in the world will never be conquered. Though extending that investment in our own lives seems incredibly risky, when we give in response to God's generosity, we enter into God's joy.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Average Briefs (November 9, 2009 edition)
Average Briefs will be posted when I have several thoughts, yet lack the stamina or depth to make anything a single piece at this time. These briefs also offer me a list of possible topics on which I can elaborate at a later date.
+ I am deeply thankful for my wife, Melanie's contribution to worship Sunday, November 8th. This point may make it to be a full post--we are a clergy couple and have never served as pastors in the same congregation. It was fun to work with her yesterday, and she delivered an articulate, faithful, and educational Gospel message. I am still in awe of the experience yesterday.
+ My dog, Hunter, is in failing health. He is the first pet I've ever had. He was a gift for my 30th birthday, and he is a gift. Transitions are tough, and one with a pet is no different.
+ Remember that Pledge Sunday is this coming Sunday, November 15th. If you have not received a pledge card or need a new one, please let me know. Bring your pledge cards to place on the altar during worship. You may still drop off or mail a pledge in if you will not be in worship on the 15th. Thank you for your giving to the life of the church.
+ Melanie does not create manuscripts for her sermons (which is also my practice), but she does do some writing that may be helpful for review. I know that some folks like to have sermons available on the blog, so I will post those notes soon.
+ The annual Port Orchard community Thanksgiving Eve service will take place at FLCC on Wednesday, November 25th, 2009 at 7pm, followed by a pie fellowship and auction, with offerings and proceeds directed toward local food ministries. I will be preaching that evening. Participating congregations include Elim Lutheran, Spirit of Life Lutheran, St. Bede's Episcopal, and FLCC.
+ I have spent some time recently reflecting on concerns about declining attendance at the 11am worship service. 8am remains consistent and faithful, 930 is lively and responsive, but I am working with the staff and some volunteers regarding ideas to build up the 11am worship service. It is a wonderful gathering, but a gathering in need of imagination. I'm not at the point where I can elaborate on any particular idea, but know that the Holy Spirit is active in the congregation and community. We are listening to where God might be leading First Lutheran Community Church, its worship life and its connection to the community. If you would like to share a conversation about 11am worship service, please let me know.
+ The FLCC office will be closed on Wednesday, November 11th in observance of Veterans Day.
+ I recently picked up a book, "Boards That Make A Difference: A New Design For Leadership In Non Profit And Public Organizations," by John Carver. The "Carver Method" is a significant inspiration in congregational governance for First Lutheran Community Church. I have never worked with The Carver Method, and I believe I need to know more about form and function at FLCC. I look forward to learning more.
+ I am deeply thankful for my wife, Melanie's contribution to worship Sunday, November 8th. This point may make it to be a full post--we are a clergy couple and have never served as pastors in the same congregation. It was fun to work with her yesterday, and she delivered an articulate, faithful, and educational Gospel message. I am still in awe of the experience yesterday.
+ My dog, Hunter, is in failing health. He is the first pet I've ever had. He was a gift for my 30th birthday, and he is a gift. Transitions are tough, and one with a pet is no different.
+ Remember that Pledge Sunday is this coming Sunday, November 15th. If you have not received a pledge card or need a new one, please let me know. Bring your pledge cards to place on the altar during worship. You may still drop off or mail a pledge in if you will not be in worship on the 15th. Thank you for your giving to the life of the church.
+ Melanie does not create manuscripts for her sermons (which is also my practice), but she does do some writing that may be helpful for review. I know that some folks like to have sermons available on the blog, so I will post those notes soon.
+ The annual Port Orchard community Thanksgiving Eve service will take place at FLCC on Wednesday, November 25th, 2009 at 7pm, followed by a pie fellowship and auction, with offerings and proceeds directed toward local food ministries. I will be preaching that evening. Participating congregations include Elim Lutheran, Spirit of Life Lutheran, St. Bede's Episcopal, and FLCC.
+ I have spent some time recently reflecting on concerns about declining attendance at the 11am worship service. 8am remains consistent and faithful, 930 is lively and responsive, but I am working with the staff and some volunteers regarding ideas to build up the 11am worship service. It is a wonderful gathering, but a gathering in need of imagination. I'm not at the point where I can elaborate on any particular idea, but know that the Holy Spirit is active in the congregation and community. We are listening to where God might be leading First Lutheran Community Church, its worship life and its connection to the community. If you would like to share a conversation about 11am worship service, please let me know.
+ The FLCC office will be closed on Wednesday, November 11th in observance of Veterans Day.
+ I recently picked up a book, "Boards That Make A Difference: A New Design For Leadership In Non Profit And Public Organizations," by John Carver. The "Carver Method" is a significant inspiration in congregational governance for First Lutheran Community Church. I have never worked with The Carver Method, and I believe I need to know more about form and function at FLCC. I look forward to learning more.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Living Sabbath is miserably failing
For most of the 11 years of ordained ministry, taking a day off was an easy thing to do. The day apart was carved into the week and a good habit. These days, Sabbath is consumed, not so much by working too much, but commuting--I've been doing 3-4 hours in the car per day. I'm not sure how to address this new issue. I'm spending a lot of time traversing the Puget Sound, not completing all the tasks I wish to complete. Maybe I'm imagining a lack of productivity. When I spend all that time in the car, the work still has to get done, and some of that work ends up falling on a Friday. My designated Sabbath is a failure at this point.
Even though I loathe the inefficient committee structure, these regular meetings were dependable in that I was reliably present to groups of people in the congregation. I still don't want to go back to that life of committees, but making the best out of my time is a new dynamic. I've always worked toward being a good time steward--I just need to find new ways to do it. For First Lutheran Community Church, the sermon and music matter greatly. The sermon remains a high-investment activity, and the Transition Team will take a significant effort.
I appreciate all of the feedback about the tweets and blogposts--many folks come through the worship and gathering space and thank me for the writing. This writing-feedback cycle is a new paradigm for me in congregational communication--I'm still getting used to it.
Friday is devoted to getting my home in order while intermittently preparing for the Council/Staff Retreat in Silverdale on Saturday. I'll let you know how that goes, because I'm considering widening the circle for what I teach Saturday to the congregation, possibly in a Wednesday evening class.
Even though I loathe the inefficient committee structure, these regular meetings were dependable in that I was reliably present to groups of people in the congregation. I still don't want to go back to that life of committees, but making the best out of my time is a new dynamic. I've always worked toward being a good time steward--I just need to find new ways to do it. For First Lutheran Community Church, the sermon and music matter greatly. The sermon remains a high-investment activity, and the Transition Team will take a significant effort.
I appreciate all of the feedback about the tweets and blogposts--many folks come through the worship and gathering space and thank me for the writing. This writing-feedback cycle is a new paradigm for me in congregational communication--I'm still getting used to it.
Friday is devoted to getting my home in order while intermittently preparing for the Council/Staff Retreat in Silverdale on Saturday. I'll let you know how that goes, because I'm considering widening the circle for what I teach Saturday to the congregation, possibly in a Wednesday evening class.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Sermon Texts for Sunday, November 8th, 2009
Our preacher this Sunday at First Lutheran Community Church is my wife, Melanie JS Wallschlaeger. She is the Director for Evangelical Mission in the Southwestern Washington Synod of the ELCA. Part of her job description is also working with congregations on stewardship--which fits well into our current sermon series: "How to be Rich in a Troubled Economy."
Melanie and I have had a passion for working with congregations and stewardship since we received mentoring from excellent congregational leaders while students at Luther Seminary, and during the Stewardship 2000 Conference during our first calls. Receiving God's generosity through others and working to respond generously has been a great joy in our life. Through wisdom and reflection, we have lived the joys of giving together. We still have much to learn, but we both find it important to share stories of generosity in the life of the Church. I'm also looking forward to hearing my wife preach--I don't get to do it very often, especially when I'm serving in a congregation.
Sunday, November 8th
"Poured, Not Stored"
Exodus 36: 2-7
Malachi 2: 8-12
Luke 12: 13-21
Thank you for your generosity with your time, talent and treasure in serving God's work in the world. Your gifts are appreciated.
Melanie and I have had a passion for working with congregations and stewardship since we received mentoring from excellent congregational leaders while students at Luther Seminary, and during the Stewardship 2000 Conference during our first calls. Receiving God's generosity through others and working to respond generously has been a great joy in our life. Through wisdom and reflection, we have lived the joys of giving together. We still have much to learn, but we both find it important to share stories of generosity in the life of the Church. I'm also looking forward to hearing my wife preach--I don't get to do it very often, especially when I'm serving in a congregation.
Sunday, November 8th
"Poured, Not Stored"
Exodus 36: 2-7
Malachi 2: 8-12
Luke 12: 13-21
Thank you for your generosity with your time, talent and treasure in serving God's work in the world. Your gifts are appreciated.
Challenging my methods in interim ministry
I recently returned from a two day retreat with other large congregation pastors in the Southwestern Washington Synod. I departed for the gathering with reticence, anticipation and a bit of relief (marveling at what a production it is to prepare for our daughters to stay at home without our presence and what it takes to get out the door at this time in our lives). I do not have the time to waste for a gathering that isn't useful, so my guard is usually up and I prepare myself for an expedient exit. Not only was I pleased with the collegial nature of this gathering, but the discussion topics and materials rose far above expectations.
Mark Grorud is an ELCA pastor currently serving as a lead pastor in Omaha, Nebraska. He recently left a position with the ELCA supporting large congregations--mostly those worshiping 700+ per week, but also resourcing and connecting with congregations like FLCC, who worship over 300 per week. In approximately 4 years in the position, Grorud had an expansive view of large congregations in the ELCA, gleaning much wisdom regarding practices, trends and congregational dynamics.
First Lutheran Community Church is far above (approximately 380 per week) the median in the ELCA in worship attendance, and in the top 10 percent for the SW Washington Synod, but small on the spectrum of large congregations. I became reacquainted with some basic information regarding staffing and congregational size theory. Where the information became highly valuable related to large congregations and pastoral transitions. The largest congregations have a few things in common related to transitions.
1. A long pastorate
2. A vision-casting lead/senior pastor
3. Most large congregations have short transitions between lead/senior pastors (some with the attempt to be "seamless"), ranging from no time at all to just a few weeks or months. The exceptional cases involve a senior pastor leaving under duress (conflict, financial or sexual misconduct), which in some cases could involve several months between settled senior pastors, but rarely lasted more than 6-9 months.
4. A congregation that equips leaders for ministry.
5. A congregation often grooms a new senior pastor before the other senior pastor departs.
Conventional wisdom in interim ministry proclaims that longer interims are better for a congregation in transition. I have been challenged to recognize that this is not the case for larger congregations. Grorud made a strong case that for a smaller to medium-sized congregation (ranging from 50-250 that is more dependent upon a solo pastor for ministry), the attachment to a pastor exists on multiple levels, with grieving and mission and vision work are slower and more methodical. In a larger congregation, though the pastor is a prominent figure related to worship and ethos, the direct hands-on leadership is less prominent. Such a sophisticated web of leadership may need an interim to provide continuing momentum in special cases, but the larger congregation needs a new senior pastor sooner than later.
This theory and practice related to larger congregation transitions challenged my own methods and practices in interim ministry, especially reflecting on my last large congregation interim. I thought I might have been there too long--because of my own learning curve, the system I was in, and the limited scope of my education. Large congregations tend to not use interim ministry--and the education preparing pastors and congregations for interim ministry serves as a function for small and medium-sized congregations. Therefore my leadership process for FLCC during this transition time is being re-examined. I will employ several of my current practices (including the Transition Team), but I will be seeking coaching and advice from interim pastors who have served in larger congregations (a rather small group). I will report on my learning as I have time to gather information, reflect and implement.
Keeping the congregation aware of my learning and process as an interim pastor is important for congregational life--and I look forward to any questions or feedback you might have.
Mark Grorud is an ELCA pastor currently serving as a lead pastor in Omaha, Nebraska. He recently left a position with the ELCA supporting large congregations--mostly those worshiping 700+ per week, but also resourcing and connecting with congregations like FLCC, who worship over 300 per week. In approximately 4 years in the position, Grorud had an expansive view of large congregations in the ELCA, gleaning much wisdom regarding practices, trends and congregational dynamics.
First Lutheran Community Church is far above (approximately 380 per week) the median in the ELCA in worship attendance, and in the top 10 percent for the SW Washington Synod, but small on the spectrum of large congregations. I became reacquainted with some basic information regarding staffing and congregational size theory. Where the information became highly valuable related to large congregations and pastoral transitions. The largest congregations have a few things in common related to transitions.
1. A long pastorate
2. A vision-casting lead/senior pastor
3. Most large congregations have short transitions between lead/senior pastors (some with the attempt to be "seamless"), ranging from no time at all to just a few weeks or months. The exceptional cases involve a senior pastor leaving under duress (conflict, financial or sexual misconduct), which in some cases could involve several months between settled senior pastors, but rarely lasted more than 6-9 months.
4. A congregation that equips leaders for ministry.
5. A congregation often grooms a new senior pastor before the other senior pastor departs.
Conventional wisdom in interim ministry proclaims that longer interims are better for a congregation in transition. I have been challenged to recognize that this is not the case for larger congregations. Grorud made a strong case that for a smaller to medium-sized congregation (ranging from 50-250 that is more dependent upon a solo pastor for ministry), the attachment to a pastor exists on multiple levels, with grieving and mission and vision work are slower and more methodical. In a larger congregation, though the pastor is a prominent figure related to worship and ethos, the direct hands-on leadership is less prominent. Such a sophisticated web of leadership may need an interim to provide continuing momentum in special cases, but the larger congregation needs a new senior pastor sooner than later.
This theory and practice related to larger congregation transitions challenged my own methods and practices in interim ministry, especially reflecting on my last large congregation interim. I thought I might have been there too long--because of my own learning curve, the system I was in, and the limited scope of my education. Large congregations tend to not use interim ministry--and the education preparing pastors and congregations for interim ministry serves as a function for small and medium-sized congregations. Therefore my leadership process for FLCC during this transition time is being re-examined. I will employ several of my current practices (including the Transition Team), but I will be seeking coaching and advice from interim pastors who have served in larger congregations (a rather small group). I will report on my learning as I have time to gather information, reflect and implement.
Keeping the congregation aware of my learning and process as an interim pastor is important for congregational life--and I look forward to any questions or feedback you might have.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Sermon Prayers and Thoughts: "Unleashing the Saints"
Outside of the football team or it's fans, I've never heard someone make the proclamation, "I am a saint." Even for the most conceited people on the planet, the saint identity is something that is hallowed ground--something reserved for people who are really dead or really good in our eyes. Saints are often people who accomplish deeds for the good of the world that seem so far out of our own comfort zones or realm of possibility that they are given a name that is officially given looking at an entire body of work by people wearing large, shimmery and pointy hats. Saint is a title that drifts on the continuum to a distant form of other. Not me. Not how I act. Not something I could do.
Saints are sent people. They trust in what God can do, and not necessarily in their own abilities. They may believe in what God is given them--but a saint is someone who can't separate their gifts and talents from God. Because saints are sent people, we receive our trust in God in Christ through our relationship with other saints. Their example makes a difference.
My father quit his job and sacrificed his earning power so that my brothers and I could have a better family life where we knew our parents. That act seemed so far away from me when I was young, even as a young adult--there was no way I thought I could ever do anything like that. But it mattered. A few years ago, my wife and I decided that it would be easier for me to stay home with our two daughters because as an interim pastor, when the time was right, I could transition into a ministry position easier than she could. My girls needed a little more stability in their lives, and for 2 years, I was able to give that to them. It wasn't that much of a leap for me, my Mother and Father as saints made by Christ's claim on their lives gave me an example of what it meant to be a saint. They were shown what it means to trust God in the life of a saint because they were touched by saints in their lives: friends who invited them to church, a congregation who lifted us up when we were down.
The stories being shared about ministry at First Lutheran Community Church are stories of saints. I don't imagine that one of these people sharing their story would call themselves a saint. But their stories reveal as trust in God in the way that they live and act in their life. Recognizing and acting on the presence of God is not their own doing--it is the power of the Holy Spirit that acts through each of us and makes us a saint. Through Christ's claim on our lives and the power of the Holy Spirit, we are able to live as saints in the world, regardless of whether we would make that claim ourselves. The saints of God have been unleashed in this congregation and the community.
Unleashing the saints.
Saints are sent people. They trust in what God can do, and not necessarily in their own abilities. They may believe in what God is given them--but a saint is someone who can't separate their gifts and talents from God. Because saints are sent people, we receive our trust in God in Christ through our relationship with other saints. Their example makes a difference.
My father quit his job and sacrificed his earning power so that my brothers and I could have a better family life where we knew our parents. That act seemed so far away from me when I was young, even as a young adult--there was no way I thought I could ever do anything like that. But it mattered. A few years ago, my wife and I decided that it would be easier for me to stay home with our two daughters because as an interim pastor, when the time was right, I could transition into a ministry position easier than she could. My girls needed a little more stability in their lives, and for 2 years, I was able to give that to them. It wasn't that much of a leap for me, my Mother and Father as saints made by Christ's claim on their lives gave me an example of what it meant to be a saint. They were shown what it means to trust God in the life of a saint because they were touched by saints in their lives: friends who invited them to church, a congregation who lifted us up when we were down.
The stories being shared about ministry at First Lutheran Community Church are stories of saints. I don't imagine that one of these people sharing their story would call themselves a saint. But their stories reveal as trust in God in the way that they live and act in their life. Recognizing and acting on the presence of God is not their own doing--it is the power of the Holy Spirit that acts through each of us and makes us a saint. Through Christ's claim on our lives and the power of the Holy Spirit, we are able to live as saints in the world, regardless of whether we would make that claim ourselves. The saints of God have been unleashed in this congregation and the community.
Unleashing the saints.
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