The Resolve of God (Genesis 9: 8-17)

Can you think of a time in your life where you've had great resolve to get something accomplished? Did you complete a project? Earn a degree? Write a poem? Sell a house? Something else? Consider the resolve that God has. The story of Noah reflects the resolve of God, not only the wickedness of humanity or the obedience of Noah. Through suffering, promises and even self-limitation, God resolves to connect with humanity.

Preparing for Triumphal Entry Sunday--Are Palms Required?

Going to church as a child in the famously unchurched Pacific Northwest, some of the details of church life were lost on me.

In my small congregation growing up in the Seattle suburbs, we had this celebration with which you might be familiar; we gathered for the Sunday before Easter to observe Palm Sunday. We did some of the same things you may have done if you have ever attended a Palm Sunday service. We sang a hymn called "All Glory, Laud, and Honor" and processed into the sanctuary as a congregation.

Like many buildings in Western Washington, Lord of Life Lutheran Church in Renton is surrounded by evergreen trees. On chilly Palm Sunday mornings, we gathered in the church parking lot and picked up evergreen branches off of pavement and landscaped areas. If we hadn't had a recent wave of wind sweep through the area, branches might be pruned. These were our "palm branches" for the opening procession. As a 9-year old, I felt no dissonance between evergreen and palm. I'm not sure of the motivation behind using evergreens. Maybe it was environmental, practical, or cost effective.

The use of palms makes me think of the big picture concerning the cultural assumptions of our Christian practices. Is it necessary to replicate the culture of Bible times and lands in order to communicate Christ? The text read on Palm Sunday involves the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, and the sociology around human beings putting up people on a pedestal only to knock them down and sometimes kill them, only to regret and mourn their death. This tendency is not time bound. Look at presidential politics, Whitney Houston, and Jeremy Lin. Societies are always in the process of building someone up or knocking someone down (this thought is better expanded in the April 1, 2012 sermon).

Palms are great to use if you have them easily accessible in your neighborhood. Palms are great to use if you want to support fair-trade palm harvesters. I don't fault any congregation that wants to use palms ordered from a local florist if they can afford them. My point is to build up collective understanding and discernment of Christian faith practices. Why do we do the things that we do? How can we be more faithful in communicating our priorities? On Sunday, April 1, the people of St. John's, Lakewood, WA will process to mark Jesus' triumphal entry with evergreen branches. We are not doing it because we can save a little money, or because I am idealizing a childhood religious experience, but because it gives us an opportunity to reflect upon why we do the things that we do in the context of the story of Jesus' triumphal entry.

Artists Welcome

While traveling in Europe, it's hard to ignore the art inspired by faith and life in the church.

Van Gogh's bibilically-themed depictions engulfed my imagination, especially his Wheatfield with Reaper painting. Thorvaldsen's Christus sculpture in Copenhagen's Vor Frue's Kirke is an imposing and awe-inspiring piece. I imagine the sounds of Bach's compositions in grand old German churches.

This reflection is not intended to glamorize artists of old. I have found inspiriation in many contemporary artists, yet few are connected to the life of the church, especially my own tradition. It's not that there is a shortage of artists in the world. I think that in the Lutheran tradition (and other Protestant denominations), we have a series of barriers implicitly stating that artists are not welcome.

Can art come from a committee? I've served in congregations that explicitly stated their desire to have creative, artistic people as part of their staffs or web of volunteer leaders. Yet that process is bogged down in job descriptions, power plays, gate keeping, narrow expectations and countless meetings. Most artists run from this kind of bureaucratic gerbil maze.

The problem for the church is not the shortage of artists, but the shortage of imagination within the church. This shortage of imagination is a death spiral of its own, because it is precisely the artists who inspire our imagination. My teacher Pat Keifert taught his students that the crisis of the church is a crisis of imagination, because we can't imagine Jesus in our neighbor's future.

We like to think that the future of our faith is a matter of will and skill. The future of our faith is fueled by imagination. Without artists to inspire imagination of who God is and how the love of Christ can be lived in the world, we become a shallow, mechanized bureaucracy that will collapse on itself.

I've been stuck too long waiting around, or sitting in committee meetings waiting for artists to answer a church ad in a newspaper. I haven't figured out exactly how to do it yet, but my goal is to implicity and explicitly say to the world (especially to artists), "Artists Welcome." I need some imagination to see what is possible with God, rather than merely say it.

God Provides the Voice (2 Kings 2:1-12)

A popular reality television show known as The Voice reveals that even though the music industry has changed over the years, there is no shortage of wonderful voices that bring beauty to the world. Particular methods of delivering beautiful music come and go. Remember 8-track tapes and cassettes (maybe you still have some in your basement or attic--if you still don't know what they are, ask your grandparents)? CD's and albums are still used, but people are not dependent on these music delivery systems to play their favorite songs. Satellite radio enjoyed a relatively brief surge. Internet radio services such as Pandora, Spotify, and mp3 file sales are the choices of newer generations of taking in the words of a great voice.

In the wake of decline in some congregation and churches, some act as though God's voice in the world is dependent on the particular way God's voice is shared through that church or congregation. What may feel like a loss at the time, a congregation or church can experience renewal if it recognizes that God will always provide the voice. God always provides the labor. God always provides the music.

In this story from 2 Kings, what feels like a wake in the departure of a beloved voice of God in Elijah, God provides another voice. God will not fail to provide the voice. The question becomes, will we welcome a new voice to share the faithful message of God's love?

The Time Clock is the Wrong Boundary

Early in ministry, I served a congregation where a previous pastor was a predator. He looked for vulnerable women in the congregation and abused his power. I found a deep mistrust in pastors from people in the congregation. They wanted to trust me. I wanted to build trust. Someone suggested that my schedule be an open book. I posted my schedules in the church, and I worked a lot of hours. I did my best to show that my work produced tangible results.

One of my bishops proclaimed that the amount of hours worked wasn't as helpful for planning work as laying out blocks of time. A morning, an afternoon, or an evening represented a block of time. We were encouraged to work 13 blocks of time per week. It was still a time clock, only with different hands.

In another region of the country, full-time work and compensation for pastors was listed in published guidelines as 55-60 hours per week. I started to wonder whether any of this time clock orientation was helpful.

Time clocks are for factories. The church is not a factory. Earlier generations of pastors were probably not time clock watchers. They focused on things like teaching, preaching, planning worship, and visiting the sick. Sometimes that work takes a lot of hours. Sometimes it doesn't. I am not proclaiming that a pastor's job description returns to a former image of ministry. What image is helpful?

The image associated with a pastor often changes, but never completely changes. Pastor as wise parent of the congregational family. Pastor as counselor. Pastor as CEO. Pastor as mission director. Pastor as director of a social service agency. Though images gain and lose favor over the years, none of these images are ever completely abandoned by a congregation. Combine these prevailing images with decline in denominations and envy of large thriving congregations, and the temptation is to watch the time clock. Some pastors experience burn out. Some pastors retreat and "cook the books" on the hours they've worked. Some pastors will stop working once they've hit the magic number of 40, 50, or 60 hours. Some congregations are concerned about the amount of hours a pastor works. Some attempt to squeeze every last hour out of their pastors until they're left for dead.

Good boundaries with pastor and congregation are important. The time clock is the wrong boundary. I am moving away from a time clock, focusing on doing what I love, out of love for God, love for my family, and love for my neighbor. This is never an easy thing to do, because it means overcoming fear. The fear is that something that I create out of love will be rejected, or not work. The time clock gave me emotional distance. The problem with a time clock is that it strips away emotional investment. The time clock strips away love. The ministry needs more emotional investment, more love, more passion. Can the love of God be communicated by a church that focuses on something artificial like a time clock?

A Heaping Plate of Love

A generous Korean woman waves her hand at me almost every Sunday as our congregations cross paths, gesturing me to come and eat.

One of the most important proverbs I learned from my teacher Pete Steinke is that food=love. This bit of wisdom continues to serve me well. What I've learned from living this out is how often I don't recognize love. Yesterday love came with a large serving of what I thought might be an unidentified vegetable, until I saw little eyes poking out of the serving tongs.

If I examine love on the basis of my preferences, I miss out on a lot of love. My acceptance of love can be an obstacle course of culinary challenges. Among the things that have startled me over the years (including the anchovies pictured above):

• Snickers salad.
• Korean medicinal herbs marinated in spice and broth.
• A slab of iceberg lettuce identified as "salad."
• A fish boil. This is not a piscine skin disease, but a fish preparation common in northern Wisconsin.  
• More concoctions involving cream of mushroom soup than I care to remember.
• A plate of meat, plantains, and rice with people in Nicaragua, when all the locals around me are eating only plantains and rice.
• A dietary confession from a man in South Dakota, "unless it's brown or white, I won't eat it. Want some?"

Granted, my list would never make Anthony Bourdain's television show or an episode of "Strange Foods of the World." The eyes of the anchovies reminded me that one of the most important things I do in my work is eat with people face to face. What I am served may not be the food I imagine for myself, but I almost always try the food. In order for me to communicate about God's love, it's important for people to recognize that God's love already flows through them. Regardless of the content of the food, I have to be willing to try, because the food was offered in love. If love is shared, I believe I have a greater opportunity to learn and also share love myself.

Such is Holy Communion. Maybe you're not feeling good about yourself--who you are or what you've done. Maybe the thought of eating with others may not be all that appealing, considering how sometimes I'm crabby with other people. The meal is offered by Christ out of love. Regardless of the content, that meal offered in love in transformative.

Making Sense of the Tactile/Digital Divide

My relationship with books is at a crossroads.

During my seminary education, Professor Paul Sponheim distinguished himself from other professors through his relationship with books. Whenever he talked about a book during a lecture, he'd have to show us the physical book. I'm not sure why he did this. I wonder if he thought we wouldn't believe the book existed unless he showed it to us. The ritual was a little crazy, but endearing. One time he used a hand truck to wheel the books in for a lecture (I think his record was about 30 books). The books in his office not only filled the bookshelves, but stacks stood like a maze of sentries around his desk. He said he usually read a book every day. I was in awe.

I love books, but I loathe storing and carrying them, and after 10 years of interim ministry I had to move them frequently. For years I carried anywhere from 5-15 books with me almost anywhere I went. When I acquired an iPad last year, I was thrilled at the idea of digital books. These days I often bristle at the thought of a paper book as I am reminded of lugging labor. After 10 months with an iPad, I love using it in many different ways, and I own about 20-30 digital books--but I only dabble in them. In  10 months with my iPad, I'm reading fewer books and more digital news articles, journal articles and blogs. This is a bad trend.

The other day I picked up a new Bible for myself for the first time in 4-5 years. I had pruned my Bible collection by about 75 percent, as my Bible software has taken the place of keeping so many Bible translations (moving 3 times in 3 years will inspire these kinds of decisions). When I picked up that new Bible, a wave of tactile energy overwhelmed me. The closest comparison is a long overdue hug with my wife. I hadn't realized the importance of the that tactile ritual. I'm looking forward to reading it again. I have several thoughts about my relationships with books.

1. Seth Godin suggests that an e-reader separate from tablet might be a better investment for the sake of productivity. Is he on to something?
2. Is my relationship with paper books so deep that my conversion to e-books will never be complete (but complete for my possible future grandchildren)?
3. The goal is to read and learn. Maybe I shouldn't be so hung up on the means of getting there, but to just do it.

Consumption Christianity (Mark 1: 29-39)

With thousands of editions of English translation Bibles available to North American consumers, it's no wonder that the Bible is seen as just another product ready for consumption. Interestingly enough, the prevalence of Bibles doesn't mean that the population is any more adept at Bible reading. Mark's gospel tells a simple story of Jesus driving out a woman's fever. She then moves quickly into a mode of service. This story is easy to pass over, but it foreshadows how Jesus views his own ministry. In Mark 10:45, Jesus describes his own ministry similarly to the woman who was healed: "For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve..." Though it is a blessing to have numerous amount of materials available to increase our knowledge of the Bible, a consumer understanding of religion and faith do not fit the teachings of Jesus. The good news is that Christ was sent to equip us for ministry, not to passively consume.

Go, American People!

In this presidential election year, I am reminded to check my assumptions.

The population of the United States is approximately 313 million people. If I take in any report about the campaign, little time elapses between each utterance of the title "American People."

The American People expect, The American People demand, The American People deserve, The American People want. I am calling for a diet for "American People." Occasionally a generalization illuminates a point. I try to use them sparingly, because I hope that I respect the uniqueness of individuals. We are all made in the image of God, yet with many idiosyncrasies.

American People is not a precise title. Maybe we should assume that politicians and pundits mean the United States, but Canada is in North America. Mitt Romney is probably not speaking to the people of Montevideo (Uruguay, not Minnesota). Barack Obama is not likely looking for commentary from Ascuncion.

To go along with my cover bands Lenten Journey and The True Meaning of Christmas, my next band will be called The American People, each band a living satire, reminding me to check my assumptions when I speak, write or tweet.