Generosity and creativity go hand in hand

What do we think about entrepreneurs in the church?

What does it take to create a faithful and thriving Christian community?

Are "faithful" and "thriving" mutually exclusive?

As I look across the mission field in the Pacific Northwest, knowing that any stewardship campaign I've ever done (in any place in the world) has not been "enough" for anyone involved in the community, why do we continue to attempt to resource ourselves the same way (definition of insanity)? When a leader comes along with a new/unfamiliar way (rooted in a faithful way) of gathering resources, is that methodology viewed with suspicion?

My observation: implicit messages exist all over historically Mainline Protestant traditions that entrepreneurs and their ideas are not welcome. Why? Is this a good thing?

I believe that among God's people there is always the opportunity to teach and encourage generosity. Generosity will indeed inspire and resource mission in the church. However, there's more to mission than generosity. Without creativity taught and encouraged, generosity misses part of the equation. Creativity must be unleashed.

Generosity and creativity go hand in hand.

Underrated in Congregational Life: Language Learning

Though I deeply appreciate the theological writings and ideas of Martin Luther, one of the things that inspires me most about a connection to the legacy of Luther is translation of the biblical witness into the language of the people. Sometimes I imagine the work of Bible translators, awestruck. I am thankful for Luther's pioneering translation work.

I love languages of all kinds. I enjoy Danish and French. I made an academic college try at Russian. I am attempting to learn Korean. I am intrigued by professional and social group lingo. I admire the dexterity in how the English language evolves. I don't like to feel foolish while I'm learning these manners of speaking, so sometimes I avoid them. It's not that I don't have the ability to learn the language, but the fear throws up road blocks. The challenge of connecting with my family and friends is stark enough; throw in the cultural differences, and I am tempted to say "why bother?" So I often give up.

Language is dynamic. We learn language often out of love for the other. Grandparents learn to use Facebook because they want to communicate with their grandchildren. An entrepreneur learns programming code because of their love for conveying a message. An adoptive parent learns Mandarin so they can know the more deeply the culture of origin of their daughter.

Here's why I think language learning is underrated in congregational life. Though we often engage in a world of dynamic language change, for some reason in congregational life, learning a new language is viewed with suspicion, or outright disdain. I think part of this is the fear and foolish factor, which I believe is modified by the deep emotional attachment to faith and congregational life. It hurts more to look foolish in matters of faith. It hurts more to look foolish in a place where we have so many and emotions and time invested in the milestones of life.

Another factor in language learning involves the theological and cultural roots of our understanding of God and change.

1. There is a very strong theological and cultural understanding that God does not change, therefore change in congregational language is considered suspect.

2. At attempt to keep language the same in congregational life may also reflect a fortress mentality. In the above link, I reference Pat Keifert, a theologian who has taught about how congregations are resistant to language change (and change in general) because the church was a "change-free zone" in the midst of a world full of change.

The variables in language learning accelerate rapidly in the Information Age, and many church leaders have rightly asked the question of stewardship of abundant information and how to prioritize usage. This burgeoning reality adds another wrinkle into how language learning choices have become more complex for congregations. Where does that conversation about language learning start? One of my favorite biblical questions from the Parable of the Good Samaritan. "Who is my neighbor?" The two things I have noticed as I drive into work: The US Military presence, and Korean language signage. I have a lot of language to learn from both communities. I cannot afford to underrate language learning anymore.

Overrated in Congregational Life: The "Summer Slump Letter"

Some people mark the changing of the seasons by holidays. Some people don't mark the changing of seasons with terms like solstice and equinox, but Memorial Day weekend, the 4th of July, Labor Day, and Easter.

Congregations can mark the changing of the seasons from the giving messages they receive via email or snail mail. You know it's autumn when you receive a letter asking for a pledge in the coming year. You know it's winter when you receive a letter to remind you of your last opportunity to make a tax-deductible donation for the fiscal/tax year. You know summer has arrived when you receive a reminder letter that congregational giving is often down during the summer months and that budget strains are acute during that time. Kennon Callahan called this the "Summer Slump Letter." Forget keeping a calendar or looking at the weather. Look at your mailbox or inbox. You'll know what season it is then. I've seen several Summer Slump letters already this summer. They're a little early this year--the economy must be bad. Slap a Bible verse or a prayer on the end of the plea, mark a season, proclaim deficit awareness, and spiritualize it. There you have the Summer Slump letter.

For many congregations, tight budgets are a way of life. Even for congregations flush with cash from a bequest or a land deal, I have yet to encounter a congregation that doesn't agonize over financial resources in some way (I see congregations flush with cash who fight more than congregations with tight budgets, but that is another story).

After seeing numerous cycles of letters and emails sent to congregational members over the years, congregational coffers should be full of donations, deeply moved and inspired by the letters they receive. These letters have probably been written for several decades. Have they made a difference (please let me know if they have)?

Why bother writing these letters?

Congregational leadership wrangles over the budget during most monthly meetings, if not all of them. Letters send a message that the leadership is not ignoring the tight budget, but doing SOMETHING. It usually makes them feel better, not to mention puffing up their own sense of accomplishment if they are giving themselves. Sometimes congregational leadership will go so far as to scold the congregational members for not giving. How well does scolding go (please let me know if you have a scolding success story)?

Callahan suggests that if there is a summer slump time in the congregation that it has to be planned for throughout the year, not addressed as a surprise occurrence each year. What might be a better approach to addressing a giving trend that is lower during the summer months?

1. Rarely will summer giving dips be adequately addressed during the actual summer months. These trends have to be addressed during the budgeting process, not when resource issues reach panic levels.

2. Some assumptions about congregational giving must be released. New members do not mean more money for a congregation, in fact, new members will probably mean resources will become even more strained. The new member + new member = more money fallacy is rooted in a notion that a congregation is the center of a given culture. With that in mind consider the next point.

3. Giving is based on a relationship. My late grandmother gave to ministries when she connected with the television preacher or Bible study leader. I didn't necessarily like how or to whom she gave, but the television ministry connected with her faithfully and regularly, more than even her own family. Even with a television, a kind of personal connection is made. How much better a connection is made when congregational leaders facilitate intentional, face to face communication with a listening posture? With a letter, nothing is learned about the recipient. A face to face meeting, though labor and time intensive, provides learning beyond measure. Face to face meetings are opportunities to learn about what God is doing through that person and how that activity can be shared with the body of Christ. Face to face communication is a high risk, high reward venture.

I invite you to share your wisdom about summer slumps or any other giving season issues you would like to discuss.

Do you know what season it is in your congregation? Check your inbox or mailbox--the overrated Summer Slump letter may be there.

Creating: A Good Way To Start

Genesis poses several challenges to Bible readers.

For some, Genesis represents a lens the natural world: a 6,000 year-old Earth where the words in Genesis trump any scientific discovery. For others, the idea of a talking snake conversing with the first humans delegitimizes any claim the Bible makes. Placing these perspectives on a continuum, I imagine that many Bible readers fall somewhere in between the two aforementioned poles.

I'm reflecting on the creation stories in Genesis today because I'm beginning a ministry that is new to me. God has been here in Lakewood and at St. John's Lutheran Church long before I got here. But In Genesis, God engages humanity to join in the creative action of God. Creation is an ongoing activity, initiated and supported by God--I'm glad I get to take part.

The challenge of the day in light of Genesis is actually creating. Creating was a first person activity for our parents and their parents. It was not only part of survival, but essentially cultural: our ancestors cooked from scratch more often, created their own tools and crafts, fixed their own household items. This is not meant to glamorize the past, rather give us perspective on where we are.

In an information age, passive intake is a default operation for many cultures. I don't wish to return to glamorized days of yore, but I do want to recognize that creation takes intentional action. Any of us can execute our survival primarily on consumption. From Internet, to social media, to ordering a pizza on a smart phone, to streaming movies on a tablet, we can navigate our days without much intentional thought. I am thankful for all of these tools, but creation can easily be lost from day to day living.

Maybe the view of "be fruitful and multiply (Genesis 1:28)" can be expanded from bringing children into the world to creating in a sense that makes life better for living.

Seth Godin's book Linchpin has challenged me to reconsider my participation in creation. What am I sharing with the world? What steps am I taking to give life in the world? In encouraging moments, Godin encourages me with all the gifts and talents I have, at other times reminds me how often I waste time spinning my wheels on social media and Web surfing.

Today provided me one of many choices; writing provided me a good path to start a ministry that is new to me. Creation is a good foundation for any day of life.

Location:82nd St SW,Lakewood,United States

A story from an introverted parent

Today's post is rooted in thanks to colleague and fellow Mariner and Huskies fan Adam McHugh.

I appreciate his invitation to write as guest blogger on McHugh's website, Introverted Church. If you want to explore in depth regarding introverted spirituality, I commend McHugh's book to you.

Parenting as an introvert is not any more challenging than any other parenting point of reference, but the approach and reflections are different. I will be doing less parenting at home in the coming months, and Adam provided me an opportunity to reflect on the changing seasons of parenting and vocation in my household. I am thankful for the opportunity.

Navigating debt and gratitude: a student loan milestone

June, 1988
May, 1993
May, 1998

These months and years mark the time I graduated from high school, college and seminary, respectively. None of these education milestones have caused me to look back and look ahead like the date of May 26th, 2011. That is the date that Sallie Mae congratulated me in a letter on the status of my student loans becoming "paid in full."

Debt (both financial and in general) is an odd concept. After a societal combination of love affair and ignorance of financial debt for decades, it's falling out of favor. However, debt is never an end in itself and becomes a path to some opportunities. Regardless of your perspective on debt (and there are many), as a pastor I know debt and shame are inextricably linked (I feel a strange sense of vulnerability even writing this post). I've hosted several classes at the congregations I serve where debt is a topic of learning and discussion, and the fear and shame related to debt is palpable. Though I'm not proud of the student loan debt accumulated in my late teens and through most of my twenties, there is also an curious connection to debt and gratitude. In paying off my student loans, I remember some of the people and systems that knit gratitude in my being in the midst of something sometimes shame-ridden.

It's one thing to earn a diploma and degrees through the generosity of others and personal perseverance; it's another thing to finance it. I don't have many degree holders in my family, but many of them thought it was important that I have an education and that I have many opportunities. Though my family could not pay for my entire education, they helped along the way.

My family came to visit me at the Univeristy of Kansas and Minnesota State University-Mankato, places where I wanted to go, 1800 miles away from home. They offered encouragement. Mom and Dad and Grandparents gave me hugs in person and from afar, with checks and cash in them. They scraped money together so I could learn and grow.

Friends and their families took me in. The Volansky Family in St. Louis gave me a home away from home, even after I left the University of Kansas. If I couldn't get to the Seattle Metro, if I could just get to St. Louis, I was treated like a brother or son.

When I married Melanie, I saw that she was wonderfully responsible with an amazing work ethic. Her education cost more than mine (she graduated from Augustana College in Sioux Falls, South Dakota), yet she worked her way through seminary and carried smaller amounts of debt. When we were married, my student loan debt became our student loan debt. She was gracious, loving, generous and persistent so that we would pay off that debt.

Something I learned after my education was that legislators along the line created a subsidy so that I carried only a partial burden of the interest. The plethora of perspectives about federal subsidies for student loan debt still make my head spin both in macro and micro frames of reference, but it's possible that without those subsidies, I would still be paying off the debt.

Professors and teachers often work at a substandard wage because they love to make the learning connection with their students. My respect for my teachers overflows; I am in awe of their gifts and generosity.

Every so often in my student mailbox at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota, I received a blank thank you card addressed to a seminary donor. I was asked to write in that thank you card for the seminary donor. Though many pastors who served many more years than me remember a day when seminary tuition was minimal, I learned in thank you card writing how many people faithfully gave in order to finance my theological education. I spent numerous dollars. In the big picture, people who knew nothing of me but my desire to learn more about God, church and service, contributed so that I could be equipped to be a pastor.

Both my home congregation of youth, Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd in Olympia, WA, and Lutheran Campus Ministry at Minnesota State University-Mankato, pulled together resources to support my theological education. 

I probably forgot a few people and systems, but that is not intentional.

(Added 1:33pm Pacific--I did forget)
Judicatories are also working to address student loan debt. The South Dakota Synod (ELCA) set up a fund that made multiple debt payments on my student loans during my 8.5 years of service there. They recognized that many Lutheran congregations in South Dakota may not be able to pay a wage that could knock out student loan debt effectively. I hope that fund has grown and gained a wider scope. It helped me, and I am thankful.

Recently I was reminded about razor sharp edges of education, ministry, debt, shame, pain and opportunity at Unconference11, a gathering of people passionate about the life of the church. I heard several conversations and frustrations about student debt. I know the woven feelings of frustration, shame and gratitude intimately. I live(d) in the moccasins of the indebted. Without getting too happy as to depict glibness, I wanted to let my new friends and colleagues know that it was possible to be a pastor who survived student loan debt. Regardless of how education is financed, collective sacrifice is necessary. How that happens in detail, I'm not sure. I take this milestone of "paid in full" as an opportunity to live in gratitude. At least in the life of the church, we can wrangle about economic, theological and ecclesial philosophies and applications about debt and education, but gratitude is the best compass for navigation.

My Experience with the Invisible Denominational Ladder

On several occasions over the last 10 years, congregational members would look at me and my growing young family on a Sunday morning and say "When are you going to get a real church?"

On a good day, I would use that question to talk about vocation and calling with the inquirer. I was called to interim ministry for 10 years. I believe I worked faithfully and skillfully. I attended interim ministry meetings and conferences as the often the youngest person in attendance by 25-40 years. It didn't matter that I was not a part of that ministry with my generational peers (though I sometimes longed for their companionship)--that's where my gifts were. I am a strong believer in the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25: 14-30), therefore I attempt to faithfully use what I have been given. Even in the midst of questions from colleagues, peers, denominational representatives, and even members of the congregation I served.

"When are you going to get a real church?"

Several church denominational systems create an unintentional invisible ladder for the vocational development of clergy. Many seminary graduates have five-figure student loans to finance their theological education. Many congregations who take seminary graduates to serve their congregations cannot afford to pay a wage that will realistically pay off the debt so that pastors can save money for retirement or pay for the education of their own children. Therefore after a brief tenure, the pastor moves on to larger congregations and/or more specialized positions in large metro areas with thriving suburbs. The congregations in rural South Dakota even recognized this dynamic. They sometimes encouraged me to leave so that I may thrive in ministry in a "bigger and better" place. Many people lined up in my life to give thanks for the opportunity to serve together, but the same question always arose:

"When are you going to get a real church?"

After completing my most recent transitional ministry in Port Orchard, Melanie and I affirmed what we learned early on in that period of service; this 10 year season of interim ministry was over. It is too logistically challenging to be good pastors and good parents to our two daughters. Melanie and I considered many congregational opportunities, and some reflected a denominational ladder. I have experience as a lead pastor in larger congregations and supervising staff. I have experience in congregations with large budgets that give a lot of money to denominational ministry (both in Lutheran and Presbyterian congregations). Without saying so, the system's message is that I should be in a larger congregation--that's the message of the pervasive question about my status with a "real church."

After a meeting last night with a small urban/suburban congregation in significant decline, we studied our body language toward each other and wondered if God was present in this discussion. Even though it is likely I will be their called pastor, people will still ask me the question, "when are you going to get a real church?" I don't really want to address the real church question.  We recognize the Invisible Denominational Ladder together, lose any fixation with that and behave in a manner that God may be doing something with us. We don't need to articulate a bromide to assure ourselves that we are the church regardless of the congregational size. We don't need to give ourselves a pep talk. Collectively we will give thanks to God for Jesus and the blessing of being a community. We will gather and ask the question, "how can we serve our neighbor?"

The Invisible Denominational Ladder is of our own creation in what we know as "Mainline Protestantism." Some ladders look a little different in each denomination. It's not something that someone else did. It's there and part of who we are, like the wind, or atoms, or molecules. Maybe the ladder needs to be torn down, and maybe someone is called to tear it down. Calling and faithful use of gifts carries the day--which is what ignites my memory and action.

Unconference11--a gathering of ideas and a ministry of encouragement--my story

At the opening worship for Unconference11, one of our leaders asked us what do we bring to this gathering? What do we have to offer?

This is a good question. For over a year I have planned to attend Unco11. It represents an odyssey for me, through developmental challenges for my daughter and all of the changes that represents in my family life, vocational discernment, and what it means to have friends and colleagues during this season of my life. Before my daughter's diagnosis in 2006, I was heavily involved in continuing education and colleague groups. That participation ground to a halt. My family needed more focus. The window for our daughter to thrive was one that required specific attention. So that is what Melanie and I did. It is always our life that we do this for our families, but this was particular. We are at a place where we are confident in our ability to care for our daughter. It is time to reconnect. Unco11 represents that for me.

What do I have to offer? It may sound simple--but I can offer encouragement to others. I also came to be encouraged. It is in that space of encouragement that God is present. One might think that a gathering related to the church is supposed to be encouraging. But it is rare. I have been to numerous gatherings of church folk over the years, and I may have learned things, but the Spirit to implement that learning was lost in a sea of handouts and notes. Lost in the work of control freaks and egomaniacs, of which I was sometimes (and still can be) one. Observing the folks (mostly via Twitter #unco11) and Spirit who birthed the Unconference I saw a place of encouragement and learning that didn't rely on or assume old pedagogy. Plus, the use of technology and social media are used without suspicion.

I am very pleased with my investment in this gathering. I have intentionally encouraged others, and I have been encouraged. I am thankful for the many hours of labor invested so that I may experience Christ's presence.

I am still processing the discussions, and that may come with a later post. If you are looking to find a company of encouragement centered on a discussion of what we can collectively and individually offer to the life of the church, keep your eyes open for the next gathering of Unco!

Another untimely review: Conviction

What am I willing to sacrifice in order to pursue a life passion? Does a life passion take on a different scope if that passion is a family member?

At one point in the film Conviction, Betty Anne Waters (Hilary Swank) has been advocating and fighting for her brother (Sam Rockwell), convicted of murder for nearly two decades. She sacrificed her marriage (it ended in divorce) and nearly gave up her relationships with her children in order to prove her brother was wrongly convicted. Waters graduated from law school and passed the bar in order to serve as her brother's council for his murder case. She went through well over a decade without a friend, except for a fellow law student (Minnie Driver) who doggedly befriended Waters and endured Waters' tireless work and persistence in obtaining anything that could help her brother. In a conversation with her two teenage sons, one of the sons states that Betty had given up her live to save Uncle Kenny. Waters paused, looked at her son incredulously, as if the concept of sacrifice never crossed her mind.

The title of the film is a perfect play on words and a deep reflection on the nature of passion. Surely, it is a good story about the pitfalls of any justice system, but for me this was a film about the relationship between conviction and passion. Waters was depicted as someone who did not see herself as passionate or one who sacrificed. The other question that came up in conversation about the story with my wife was whether Waters' relationship with her brother was unhealthy. This was a sibling pair who could be analyzed in psychological parlance as "fused," rooted in growing up together in an abusive household. I wonder if Waters (as she is depicted) is a Christ-like figure. Christians for centuries have written, taught and preached to fellow Christians and the world that we should reflect and embody Christ's "sacrifice" for humanity. I am not a Christian proponent of a sacrificial Christology. The sacrificial nomenclature is hard to escape in the Bible and Christian theology, and I though I don't wholeheartedly reject it, I don't embrace it.

Looking into the character of Waters and her (loving? obsessing?) pursuit of securing the freedom of her brother, I can't help but think of Jesus. In my limited knowledge of the Bible and theology, I can't recall anyone who bothered to ask Jesus whether he believed that his death was a sacrifice to him (and I would be glad to learn from my readers where I could find further reading on this topic) or whether theology has bothered to ask the question about the nature of sacrifice as it relates to love. In addition, how is a sacrifice beneficial (or even loving) to a relationship if the person who made the sacrifice for the "sake of the relationship" has to constantly remind the other person that they made the sacrifice in the first place?

Over the years in my life of Christian faith, I've been asked to accept the idea of Christ's sacrifice at face value, that I had better appreciate it and think about it to the point of guilt and shame. Only then will I have faith. Until my work with my theological education teachers (mostly Pat Keifert and Walter Sundberg at Luther Seminary) I had not considered the multiple dimensions of sacrifice in the Christian faith and theological discourse. Conviction serves as a reminder of the multiple dimensions of understanding sacrifices and relationships. There's plenty of guilt and shame to go around in the world, and I am thankful for the love and grace I have received in the body of Christ. Many have lovingly given in more ways than I can count so that I may have a better life (did they always see it as a sacrifice?). Watching Conviction offered me some new questions and insights to the interplay of love, justice, sacrifice, guilt and relationships. It wasn't a sacrifice for me to give up four dollars and two hours to watch the film.

Consequences of the "Ownership Society" Considered

Americans don't have to look far to see the how the desire for home ownership led hundreds of thousands of people down a destructive path. Foreclosures, a teetering economy, and bankruptcy have people closely considering their personal, household and even congregational balance sheets.

What are the roots of these economic consequences?

Some people believe that economic unraveling is purely a management issue. People will look to the President, the Chair of the Federal Reserve, the Chief Financial Officer, the Business Manager, the Pastor, the Treasurer, the Family Budget Manager as the source for leadership in managing financial well-being for any nation, organization or family. If the budget is tinkered with just so, if the investments are adjusted and organized properly, all will be well. I'm not so sure.

This reflection is not meant to lift up a particular ideology. I am not espousing communism, socialism or even capitalism. What is a wise understanding of ownership?

Under consideration:

1. I believe that God owns everything. I am a steward of what belongs to God. I truly own nothing. I take care of what belongs to God. This knowledge affects my day to day decisions. This basic premise helps me do generous things, even though I am often selfish. It affects how I live with my wife, how we teach our children, and how we interact with others. Even with a steward mentality, stewards still make decisions about the degree of control they use. This is where management comes in to play.

2. Congregations have an interesting relationship with ownership.

• Some congregations are mortgaged with their facilities to their eyeballs. 
• Some congregations have saved and/or used their own sweat and labor, worshiping God in a church building that carries no debt. 
• Some congregations generously share their facility with the community; many groups from the area meet and gather for serving and being served. 
• Some congregations lock up their buildings after Sunday mornings and make statements like "we don't want to have too much wear and tear on the building," or "this is God's house" as a means to decide which groups meet in the church building.
• Some congregations proclaim "the church is not a building, it's people." How this statement is lived out takes on many forms. Sometimes it means rejecting building ownership. Sometimes it means mortgaging a future so the congregation can do ministry for people in their building now.

3.  For the most part, I think we humans have a relationship with property that I'm sure we will never figure out. Each congregational facility scenario carries pitfalls and consequences. Eugene Peterson in his introduction to the Old Testament book Haggai discusses that the argument that the church is not a building, but people is an incomplete argument, because as human beings, we occupy both time and space. There will always be a need for a place to be in relationship with God and with one another. Place matters. How are we to understand place?

4. The challenging aspect of ownership for many households and congregations involves resource allocation in order to be "owners." Even if debt-income ratios are judged as favorable, there is a significant loss of flexibility of both time and cash in many ownership situations. A building takes personal energy for both congregations and families, not only money.  Meetings and labor are needed to maintain the facility, not only income. If a congregation or a household has a great idea or initiative that serves others in a powerful way, that idea is subject to the mortgage and the debt-income equation, and a calling to serve is often compromised.

I've learned a few things from this reflection. "The Ownership Society" was a dangerous proposition on a large scale, possibly because there were ulterior motives or other values were compromised in order achieve ownership.  "Ownership" can be good to a certain extent (though there is no magic line that determines how much ownership is good, and having someone decide is foolish). The shakeout of household and congregational ownership is a matter of values and priorities. What do we value? How will we set our priorities? What resources do we need in order to live faithfully in accordance with our values? For Christians, the stewardship-ownership interface creates many challenges, but articulation of values and priorities create a reference point for daily action.

A few of the recent influences on my thinking:

• Richard Florida writes, tweets, researches, speaks often on variables related to ownership and creativity. I encourage reading his blog, books and articles. Check him out when he speaks on television.
• A blog post from a Forbes writer on home ownership.

Post-script

The who decides question looms in the background, especially for congregations, but that is for a future post.

Music as pastoral care and building the community of faith

The battle over worship in this congregation started in 1967 when _________________ played a guitar in worship. The war has gone on ever since.

That was a statement of an elder member of a congregation I served as an interim when I asked about the stories related to conflict over worship. One might call it the Thirty Years' War. The "Worship Wars" don't have the acrimony they once did even five years ago. I never understood the approach of the Worship Wars in "Mainline" Protestantism. Arguing over preferences produces no clarity, no mission, no deeper connection with the Divine.

I am not a worship scholar. I wouldn't even call myself gifted in worship methodology or theology. But I ponder the effects of music on my soul and my longing for God, desiring healing and wholeness, and where I see Christ. I have to provide the musical connection with God for myself, because the church for 30 years has been more interested in arguing about style preferences than offering to build my relationship with God and others in their spiritual growth. Recently I've been thinking less about my musical preferences and HOW I am connected to God and others by a particular song.

1. The role of testimony. Preachers and other deliverers of the Gospel can appropriately share their personal stories about the activity of God in their lives. I find meaning in that connection--why can't it be done with music? Case in point--a pastoral care song for me is from Melody Gardot's Who Will Comfort Me. The song is good in and of itself, but it means even more in light of Melody's own path of healing. Gardot faced brutal injuries and the healing setbacks and triumphs in her life come out in this particular song. Testimony brings out a tradition of the Psalms. Sometimes lament, sometimes victory. Sometimes confidence in God's presence, sometimes longing questions and frustration. Who will comfort me?

2. Songs of confession and songs of intercession. Years ago I had numerous opportunities to preach for the St. Dysmas prison congregation in the South Dakota State Penitentiary. I had some great conversations with the worship band. Though they loved playing worship music and praise songs, the jam sessions revealed more about their walk with God. What saddened me was that they thought their jams had no place in the worship service. One band member and I had a discussion around Molly Hatchet's "Flirtin' With Disaster." The song provided an entry point for this young man's story, his crimes and sins, his incarceration, and his relationship with God. I always thought it was a good song, though not a favorite. The song is now a favorite because it is an opportunity for me to pray for this young man--for healing, for forgiveness, for a newness of life each day, and a new start when he gets out of prison.

Unfortunately, my work with the Worship Wars of the past 30 or so years has been more about addressing conflict and congregational dynamics. In this season of my life, I hope for articulation of music as pastoral care and faith community building.

Excuse me--while I commute home tonight and listen to tunes from my iPhone, I will be in a place of worship. Through Christ, creation (music) and relationship--God heals.

Getting my vision checked helps me participate in revelation

I picked up my new glasses the other day. I like to hear responses about new things.

"I didn't know you wore glasses!"

"You always had such good vision when you were younger."

True. I remember some eye tests from my teenage years. My 20/10 vision was a badge of honor, especially as a baseball player who took pride in an ability to take a pitch and hit about anything in the strike zone or near it. If I was fooled into swinging I could at least foul it off. I wasn't much for power, but I hit a lot of singles and doubles, and could take a walk. I linked a lot of my success to my gift of vision. I worked hard and cared for that gift. I took a lot of batting practice. I ate a lot of carrots to give nutrients to my eyes. Eventually, I conquered some fears and developed an ability to reach base by getting hit by pitches--visualizing where the ball was going to hit my body gave me the judgment about whether being hit would hurt me. Just get on base, baby. Some of my most admired hitters were rumored to have better than 20/20 vision--Rod Carew and George Brett. Their vision gift allowed them to play the game of baseball at a high level.

After receiving my first pair of glasses last year, I've learned a few lessons about vision. Some of these reflections may apply to the Christian life, or to life in general. I tend to look at these kinds of things in light of Christian spirituality, but if you want to use the imagery for vocation or relationships, be my guest.

1. My ability to see has probably been deteriorating for years. Once the eye stops growing in teenage-early adult years (as I've been studying my eye condition, presbyopia) the lens loses elasticity, and the eye begins to lose its ability to focus. The brain is quick to pick up on this change, and the loss of focus may not be noticed for years. This development in my life makes me think of my own vocation and congregational vocation. I remember when I first started recognizing my focus problems, I said to myself, "But I have better than normal vision! I have 20/10 vision! Maybe I haven't been getting enough sleep, or I need to be more attentive to nutrition. But I have 20/10 vision. This isn't really happening to me. I'm special." If I continued to cling to that old identity, I could eventually put myself in danger, or maybe my family or someone else. I could miss out on seeing something important, or lose my zest for learning and living because reading became more challenging. Congregations often take on the identity of their youthful experience, when they were filled with boundless energy and their creativity flowed. Friendships were growing. Ministry programs teemed with both resources and insight. Lives changed. People were cared for. The building couldn't contain the excitement. Then the ability to see the world around them changes, and they maintain they still have better than average vision. "This isn't really happening to us." The congregation loses its elasticity, unable to make adjustments to the world around them. They become rigid and start making statement familiar to many involved in the church, "we've never done it that way before."

2. If I didn't embrace a new way to see the world around me, I would miss out on some of the things that God is revealing. My first pair of glasses last year were a disaster. I went to an optical dealer (who shall remain nameless) who set me up with a pair of glasses that not only did not fit, but a prescription that continued to give me headaches. I was told by both the professionals and by friends that I would get over the headaches, just hang in there. The technology was there to help me, but I also had to take some ownership of the change, find another path and professional and say, "this isn't working. I need to try something else." Now I have a pair of glasses that not only fits my head, but hasn't given me a headache in three days (along with a really big plus--my wife says they look good on me--that I look "distinguished," giving me that look that I'm looking good). Embracing what God is revealing in the world is linked to a personal and congregational fear of failure. Once personal or congregational life deteriorates over a period of time, then a fear of failure to see and try new things can be the next obstacle, exacerbating the deterioration. Once I embraced the idea of wearing glasses, then went through the hassle of getting them, and then they didn't work, I considered giving up. I didn't want to deal with the headaches. But I was driven to see better, beyond the pain, and I tried the experience again. I am pleased with the results and ready to move forward.

For a more amusing version for movie lovers, consider Uncle Rico from Napoleon Dynamite--he spends most of the movie wondering what could have been and ruminating on the past, rather than looking toward the future. Rico is rigid about his understanding of the past, which inhibits his future.



I continue to return to the Baptism of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark and how the voice of God and the identity of Jesus is continually expanding its revelation--to Jesus himself, his followers, and the world. Being stuck in a previous identity and fearing the work of the future inhibits participation in the ongoing and expanding revelation of the power of God. I know I don't see perfectly, but I know that God is revealing anew all the time. I want to see it, and I have to be flexible with my vision in order to participate in the revelation of God.

Finding a place on the road to calling between sentimentality and utilitarianism

As an interim pastor, my job is to manage expectations. I find congregations either dripping with sentimentality about their past, a congregation entangled in their own details, or at least an interesting combination of the two. My present interim congregation, First Lutheran Community Church in Port Orchard, Washington, is voting to call their next pastor this Sunday, February 13. Dating and engagement images (hello, Valentine's Day) are inevitable. So much excitement! So much curiosity! So much imagination!

I wonder what treasures of God's word can be uncovered to lead the congregation through the end of their valley of the shadow of death to the glorious epiphany that will be their call--a chorus of angels with a prelude aria leading to a crescendo where the entirety of heavenly hosts joins the angel chorus and loudly proclaims, "This pastor! This pastor! This pastor!"

Take a vomit break, if you choose.

There's a God-element to a calling, as there is a human element. These elements are intertwined in a chromosome-like double helix. If all callings were perfect, congregations would not falter. A calling is an agreement to a ministry and leadership relationship. A means to which we hold ourselves accountable to the work that God gives us. A commitment to help each other grow as children of God. Pastors and congregations are not saviors to one another. Sometimes a calling leads to conditions that are harder, not easier.

Take Numbers 11 for example (my sermon text for Sunday). Moses complains to God, because he feels the isolation of ministry and leadership. God provides a calling to elders, and ministry conditions not only not improve, they deteriorate. That doesn't mean that ministry partnerships and shared leadership are failures, but it does cause us to check our expectations and drive us toward seeking God in the midst of our challenges, and be formed by the wisdom of God rather than cling to our unreasonable demands, selfish preferences, and skewed expectations. Numbers 11 is a text about the importance of calling and the provision of God, but it is also a check on our expectations and a reminder about our dependence on God, and not the call itself. In Numbers 11, the sentimental notion of call is out the window, and even the utilitarian one. The call is linked to God, and it doesn't mean ministry will get easier. But it does give us something with which to work, and God is present.

Tithing practice experiment reveals faith growth opportunities

Are you a Christian whose blood pressure rises during the fall because your congregation talks about money for a week or two this season? Are you a pastor who is expected to deliver a message about giving so that the church can create a budget (which seems to be a conflict of interest because it affects your bottom line)? Are you a leader in a congregation who feels pressure to get members of a congregation to "step up" in their giving because you stress out about having to make difficult decisions about program cuts, staff cuts or whether you can keep the church building open?

I do not have the answers to the questions that riddle congregations and their pastors in relation to their resources. My goal is to understand the variables involved in giving and that in my preaching I can connect the generosity of God to a Christian's own response in giving. My goal is to diffuse the fear from giving so that giving can be joyful--which parallels my understanding that God gives out of joy.

Last year, I reflected on the theories why people don't give. I am planning to study a book that examines church giving trends. With the help of my colleague, Pastor Orv Jacobson, I've changed my approach yet again this year. Interim ministry has freed me to change my approaches because giving does little to affect my bottom line in ministry. I will be in a different congregation in 2011.

What startled me in my reflection and practices was my negative approach to giving in the life of a Christian and in a community. I do not mean that I've issued threats related to giving or delivered a negative tone in any of my stewardship preaching. However, if I approach people trying to convince people to give, or I join congregation leaders in merely examining why people aren't giving, I'm not giving people an opportunity for growth. What I've essentially done is offered critique without offering a positive alternative.

Think about what many congregations ask their members to do. There's a hope that people in the congregation will tithe--give 10 percent of their income to God's work through the congregation. My experience has shown that not many people in congregations tithe, yet there is a great respect for people who do tithe. Supposedly that is what people in the congregation work toward. I'm not sure if leaders and pastors expect this kind of giving growth through osmosis, because I usually see little, if any support for giving growth in congregational life. Congregations ask their members to tithe, or to commit to a one percent increase in giving in the coming year. The one percent growth can be a difficult challenge, especially if that household is made up of newly intentional givers.

In the discussion with Pastor Orv, here's what we planned.

1. Ask people to try tithing (see Malachi 3) or growing a percentage for a short period of time. Like three months. There will be no "prosperity gospel" promises, like your business will improve or your possessions will increase or your crops will be better. I will rejoice with them if it does happen, but I won't make those kind of promises.

2. Ask people who try giving growth to write down some regular reflections so they can have a prayerful, thoughtful and learning approach to giving.

3. Check in with the people who are trying giving growth--share a little mentoring.

4. Don't give judgment to people who say they decide not to tithe anymore after three months. At least they tried.

5. Keep the identity of the givers (my congregation already does this) and written reflections anonymous and share those reflections with others in hopes that they may learn.

We have three takers (so far) to try tithing for three months since I issued the invitation eight days ago. The blessing for me is the conversation with these people about their faith, their household, and their vocation--conversations I would not have had otherwise. It makes me think the church has created a culture of orphans (in terms of giving) because giving has been clouded by fear.

This idea has already been a win because of the great connections with people about their faith. If you try something similar to this in your congregation, I would love to learn what you learn. If you want to try tithing for three months and want to share your reflections, please let me know. I always find it a blessing to learn about the generosity of God and how that generosity is lived through God's people.

Movie Reflection: Get Low

As a called and ordained minister of the Church of Christ, and by his authority, I therefore declare to you the entire forgiveness of all of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the +Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

For 10 years of my young life, The Brief Order of Confession and Forgiveness, page 77 (coincidental to Mt 18:21-22?) in the The Lutheran Book of Worship (aka The Green Hymnal or the LBW) was my regular contact with the concept of forgiveness. I knew the page well, considering how the page curled from regular use, my ink-pen stained finger prints dotted the page, and the growing fuzzy edges prevented paper cuts. The LBW provided tactile reminders of sins committed and assurance of God's love in Christ, like a nun kneels and rubs her fingers along beads of a rosary. The "Brief Order of Confession and Forgiveness" was usually the first act of public worship each Sunday morning. Alongside the sermon, the confession had the most impact on me in early Christian life. This practice suited me not because it's fun, but because I am a naturally reflective person. Where have I been? Where am I going? What is my relationship with God? I could ponder those questions for years, but in the span of a few minutes, my reflections and redemption took shape. Even though I have felt the impact of sin and the liberation of redemption, the power of confession and forgiveness can still be elusive.

Imagine reflecting upon haunting sins and the elusiveness of forgiveness for a span of 40-plus years. Though I could only imagine that kind of torment, the storytelling of the film Get Low took me inside one man's understanding of love, sin, forgiveness, penance and redemption--and how his thoughts and actions influenced others' views and actions. The film is a 1930's period piece from the Bible Belt with an interesting connection to my own faith tradition in the Evangelical Lutheran Church In America. The film made me realize the gift of confession and forgiveness in the life of the church and my own faith, but it also made me realize how the church's rituals and teaching can be deficient in people's real lives. The confession and forgiveness practice can be programmed and sometimes rote, and life in between the rituals and proclamations is much messier than people (clergy included) care to often times understand.

Though forgiveness is the driving theme, the story telling is well crafted and the character development, cinematography, and top notch Bluegrass music (Jerry Douglass and Alison Krauss, to name a few) maximize the theme's impact. Because the film is based on a true story, some details could not be fictionally created (you can't make this stuff up!). After 40-plus years living the life of a hermit, Felix Bush (Robert Duvall) comes to town wanting to throw a funeral party, his own, before he dies. The meaning of this funeral party is revealed through his interactions with a local funeral director Frank Quinn (Bill Murray), his assistant (Lucas Black), two preachers, and an old friend (Sissy Spacek), and other town folk. For Frank Quinn, the funeral is unorthodox, but an opportunity to revive his sagging funeral business. For his assistant, his sense of right and wrong is constantly challenged.

A few sub themes worth noting in "Get Low" include the understanding of vocation in the world and how it is shared. Another sub-theme deals with how little people really know about one another--even in a small town. Another involves reflections upon integrity in the midst of personal identity and promises kept. It's one thing to teach, preach or discuss themes of sin, confession, forgiveness, redemption, vocation, relationships, promises, integrity and peace. Video is a special medium--and film story telling is a unique opportunity for impact, with the cinematography, music, and acting interpretation. Not only is the story and it's themes powerful because of the film making quality, but the humor is prevalent and disarming, but not distracting or trite. I can only tell you so much. Go see the film. Take adults. Take teenagers. Take someone you love. Talk about the film with one another. Journal about the film. Blog about the film. Tweet about the film.

For readers in the Puget Sound area, my wife and I viewed the film at Grand Cinema in Tacoma. This was our first trip to the Grand, and it represents all that is good about a trip to the movies--a non-profit cinema with lower prices and smaller concessions, staffed by friendly volunteers in a well-cared for setting both inside and out. We will go back because of the mission and the experience at the Grand.

Zaccheus and the Faith-Work Connection

Zaccheus (Luke 19) reflects something the church appears to desire from a giver. "I will give half of my possessions to the poor." If Christians are looking for a non-deity example of a giver, Zaccheus makes a top ten list.

Is half of anyone's possessions truly desired? Even by the poor? A good friend of mine was serving in a congregation in Baton Rouge, Louisiana during the time of Hurricane Katrina. What blew his mind was how many people used Hurricane Katrina as an opportunity to unload the accumulated junk from their basements, garages and storage units. He was apoplectic at the lack of discretion in donation: "Stop sending us your s***! People devastated by Katrina don't need any of it." He told me that it took volunteers months before they could sort through everything, and a majority of the items were unfit on many levels: caked with mold, coated with cobwebs, rendered useless with cracks. A few months after Katrina, I saw it myself, churches and other service agencies with spray-painted plywood signs: "No Donations." "No Clothing Donations." "Please, no more donations." My friend told me that for weeks, used (not gently) items were left piled high by the church entrance each morning. His congregation eventually put up a sign turning away donations. There's more to giving to the poor than making the poor one's own personal dump.

Does Zaccheus have a lot of stuff, or merely money? Which half of his possessions would he give to the poor: the stuff he doesn't want, the best stuff, or somewhere in between? Luke 19 doesn't give the answers to these questions, so I'm not exactly certain this story is about Zaccheus' ability as a giver. What I came to notice was the response in observance of Jesus squatting at Zaccheus' house. Typical to the Synoptic Gospels, Jesus draws critique for hanging out with tax collectors and other kinds of sinners. Zaccheus appears to be an honest tax collector and takes pride in his work. If this is not the case, then Zaccheus will drive himself to poverty if he has to follow through with his proclamation: if he has been a fraudulent tax collector, then he will return the money and quadruple it. Zaccheus is either grandstanding or setting an ethical standard. I'm going with the latter.

Zaccheus reflects an opportunity that all human beings have through their work--to reflect grace given in Jesus Christ. Zaccheus receives grace in that Jesus breaks through a social stigma to show grace to Zaccheus, one who is reviled in the culture. I'm not certain that Zaccheus is generous (though it's possible). I am certain that Zaccheus' work is valued as an opportunity to bear the grace of God and that he sees his work as vocation--a calling. We don't know from the text about whom Jesus speaks in reference to the "lost (v.10)." Jesus doesn't ask Zaccheus to quit his job, but Jesus' grace has inspired Zaccheus to embrace his vocation by giving to the poor and striving for a higher level of vocational ethics. Maybe the "lost" in this story are the grumblers about Jesus' association with tax collectors--people who have a narrow view about what kind of work is holy. There have always been fraudulent tax collectors, but that does not mean that tax collection is inherently evil. An important teaching of the Jesus/Zaccheus story is that all work presents an opportunity for followers of Jesus to live out their faith through what they spend most of their waking hours doing.

The Cautionary Tale of the Whitman Mission

While I lived in South Dakota, I read about anything I could about the Pacific Northwest. I missed the connections to the familiar, comforting, yet mystifying land. I missed the mist on my skin that dampened me, yet didn't get me wet. I missed the salty air that reminded me of the bountiful sea and all its creatures, both familiar and alien. I missed the evergreens that served as green sentries that guided my paths. Though I could only visit my beloved Washington about once or twice per year, through the research and story telling of others, my own stories, memories and observations were fertilized for a time when I would not be part of the Pacific Northwest diaspora, but a participant observer replanted in my land of origin.

Years passed before I made a connection between God and the land. I knew that God created the heavens and the Earth, but I was directed in my thoughts toward an understanding that God cared more about humans than the land itself. As I studied the Old Testament in seminary, I realized the land is a much more powerful character and player in biblical story and that place matters throughout scripture--though the land and place are not widely researched in theological circles, I have come to appreciate the distinctive nature of place sociologically and theologically. John Inge (a bishop in the Church of England) and Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann address theological questions of place and land.

While reading a Pacific Northwest history by Carlos Schwantes, I encountered a new story to me, the story of a massacre at the Whitman mission in southeast Washington state, near Walla Walla. On November 29, 1847, 13 people were killed at the mission site by peoples of the Cayuse and Umatilla tribes. Numerous interpretations of the events surrounding the massacre exist, but the story represents many tensions for me as a local theologian, pastor, student, and native of the Pacific Northwest. The Whitmans came to the region prepared to deliver their way of life to the Cayuse and Umatilla peoples--a way of life that included Jesus Christ, their own culture and agriculture. My impression of the Whitmans is that they saw their work as operating in a single direction. They were the givers and the aboriginal peoples were the receivers. I don't perceive much listening going on, only telling. Naturally, the Cayuse and Umatilla resisted ways contrary to their own way of life, especially so since they did not adapt to row crop cultivation well. It was challenging to learn about Jesus when row crops were seen as a path to Jesus. The Whitmans and their coworkers were carriers for a measles epidemic that wiped out half of the local tribe population. The tribes responded to these developments with violence, and the missionary endeavors in the area were ended for well over a generation.

I still have a lot to learn about the Whitman mission story. It may become a topic for deeper study in my future. On my recent family trip, my family and I visited the Whitman Mission National Historical Site (part of the National Park system). I hope to return when I have more research time and search some of the archives at nearby Whitman College. I learned much from this story and my own understanding of Christian ministry and mission. Some factors remain in my ongoing consideration:

1. The local religious landscape in the Pacific Northwest has always struggled to support Christian ministry and cultural endeavors related to Christian ministry for centuries. Though it is no longer at the bottom of the of the list of percentage of religious adherents (Maine is now at the bottom), it takes significantly more work for Christians to gain influence in the region than in other places where I have lived and worked.
2. Is there an appropriate balance between Christian ministry as proclamation and listening? In my early studies of the Whitman massacre, it appears that the actions of the Whitmans moved more toward proclamation than listening and understanding the Umatilla and Cayuse peoples. The Whitman story provides a cautionary tale for me on many levels. I believe in God's redemptive work through the Church, but am I the appropriate proclaimer? I find myself much more interested and driven to understand than to proclaim. Understanding is a relative term--it seems sometimes that the more I learn, the less I understand--but understanding is more about posture than accomplishment. Interim ministry for me has been a ministry of understanding congregations (again, understanding is relative), and using that understanding for the people of God in a particular place to follow their calling in God's preferred future for them.
3. Though it takes great courage and energy to make a proclamation (Marcus Whitman made several round trips from the mission to the East Coast to garner support for the mission in a time where such distance travel was tiring, dangerous and often deadly), sometimes I think it is much harder to listen, learn and understand--because the other cannot be controlled. The Whitmans did not have an opportunity to learn this lesson; they were killed before any change took place. This is part of the conflicting understanding about mission--I make quite a presumption when I think I know what is best for a group of people I serve, whereas we can take the opportunity to build relationship and name that God is already in that place, and together look at the Bible and look the culture and prayerfully see where God is together in hopes of imagining and living God's preferred future for that particular community.

I sometimes wonder whether these thoughts, experiences and learnings make me the right kind of pastor in this day and age, or whether I should find a different path to ministry. A colleague and friend once posed to me the key differences between proclamation and understanding and their relationship to vocation. I believe the distinction between proclamation and understanding is important, but the relationship to vocation is not so cut and dried. I may never feel comfortable in my vocation. I am provoked to proclamation, yet driven to understand. Through the Whitmans I read a cautionary tale, and I am alerted to the consequences on either end of the continuum of proclamation and understanding.

New Media Epiphanies and Strategy

Epiphanies come in many shapes and sizes, though these episodes of discovery come more frequently and rapidly.

In the past 6 months, even after coming from a huge newspaper household in my youth, I can no longer bring myself to buy a newspaper. My fingers avoid ink stains, I don't dispose of a pile of paper, and my access to archives is greater without attempting to save piles of papers and taking up storage space in my house. I read most of my news on my iPhone these days. Most of the time I even forget the wonderful mobility of a laptop.

I desire to learn about new (if not already mainstream) media without the burden of earning a new degree. I want to put some theological flesh on the meaning of communication using today's tools. I want to learn while having my insight respected and not be given too much jargon or techie lingo. I want to connect with God and others, and I want to expand my imagination in doing so.

Using Twitter over the past 8 months, I find the connections to good information and specialized discussions increase in probability. While intentionally seeking to learn and grow in the scope of connecting with God and others through new media, I found a local, Seattle Mariners-loving, Mainline-Oldline Protestant Christian who develops new media strategies with congregations (Will Boyd). We met in a Seattle neighborhood (Ballard) at fun little BBQ restaurant (Pete's Smokin' BBQ) with free wifi. The entire meeting was arranged on Twitter. We didn't share any contact information outside of Twitter (until today). We had a solid theological conversation that took me to different places of thinking, while receiving ideas for tools that can be used for more effective communication.

While reflecting on my experience on my ferry ride back to my office from Seattle, I thought about my history with networking. A connection like today's conversation 10 years ago may have taken months and thousands of dollars to develop. I used to attend conferences for networking. Not to say that conferences are a resource black hole, but my return on investment with new media is exponential. I don't have to wait for big conferences to make important connections, I choose the scope and frequency of that connection.

The entire experience today was physically framed by driving up to a big old steeple ELCA congregation--First Lutheran Church in Ballard. As I walked up to Smokin' Pete BBQ (across the street from the church) for a tweetup, I thought about old ways and new ways of connecting with God and one another. I saw children at the church daycare playing outside, realizing that sharing God's grace through serving the neighbor in a daycare still matters. This is still the declared end in mind: to connect with God and others. The means are changing, faster than sometimes I care to admit, yet I don't lament the changes like I thought I might. I'm glad God would still care to use me in an era of rapidly changing means to achieve the ends.

Effective Congregational Meetings

"We (in the church) tolerate bad behavior in the name of Jesus."
--Church consultant, Peter Steinke (author of numerous books on congregational systems)

(Full) congregational meetings often digress into forums for bad behavior precisely because leaders fail to set conduct guidelines. The failure is rooted in reasoning that Christians should be able to get together and conduct productive meetings because Christians are naturally good people with good intentions. Congregational meetings fall to the least common denominator quickly. An ill-prepared grand stander or an angry member can quickly derail meeting goals and objectives. Leaders and members generally cower at confrontation or respond with heightened emotion, like throwing gasoline on a fire. The destructive speech or action ends up being tolerated because Christians should be kind and include others perspectives (so the reasoning goes).

Faithful process does not exclude people from participation. Faithful process gives people equal opportunity to speak, sharing perspectives and ideas. However, a meeting environment altered by rancor excludes diverse perspectives, ideas and opinions. A rancorous meeting environment communicates to the congregation that the meeting is not a safe environment to speak publicly. For some people, the fear of public speaking is worse than death. What can a congregation do to conduct good and faithful congregation-wide meetings?

One implicit concern of congregations and their meetings is that conduct guidelines can somehow minimize the "family" atmosphere of a congregation (I am concerned about the "family" identity for congregations, but that is for another post). On the other end of the "family" atmosphere continuum for meetings is that congregations distance themselves from a bureaucratic ethos. Conduct guidelines are appropriate for Synod/Presbytery/judicatory meetings, but not for congregational meetings. Guidelines for congregational meetings show a higher degree of respect for members and participants because guidelines communicate that each person's contribution and time is valued, and that their contribution can be shared in a place that will not bring public ridicule or intimidation. Another concern is that intelligent people should be able to conduct a civil and productive congregational meeting without conduct guidelines. Regardless of the concern, relationships without expectations and boundaries are moving down a destructive path.

After working with Peter Steinke's "Bridgebuilder" process for severely conflicted and stuck congregations, I found that the guidelines Steinke offers for the public grievance portion of the process (aka "listening post"), can also be effective for congregational meetings. The key point to conduct guidelines is that the congregation agrees to the guidelines. Here is a list of common guidelines adapted from Steinke's work with brief explanations:

1. The meeting will last _______ minutes (choose an appropriate and realistic time frame. Don't go over 90 minutes).
Hold those leading the meeting accountable to preparation for the meeting. Respect the time of people in your congregation. Time is a valuable resource. Respect goes a long way.
2. By 2/3 vote of those present at the meeting, the meeting can be extended one time for 30 minutes.
Empower the congregation through choice.
3. Each member present at the meeting may speak for 2 minutes. If everyone speaks who wishes to speak in the original time boundaries, a person may speak for one additional two-minute period.
This guideline makes meeting leaders accountable for providing a meeting agenda and information about topics with adequate time for members to prepare their research and thoughts. Thus participants are also accountable to prepare their statements because they have a limited time to speak.
4. Members are encouraged to use "I" statements when speaking (for example "I think," "I feel," "I notice"). 
This kind of statement contrasts with the nebulous "they" or "a group of us think." This guideline helps speakers clarify their thoughts and provides a path for direct communication.
5. No verbal attacking, blaming or abusing will be tolerated.
6. Members will be asked to refrain from applause, cheers, boos or similar expressions.
#5 and #6 are other measures offer participants a safe space to publicly communicate.
7. Other ground rules may be incorporated by the members at the discretion of the chair of the meeting.

In higher levels of congregational conflict, a facilitator from outside the congregation can be helpful. If a pastor or congregational president is perceived as taking a particular side dealing with an issue, a professional may be hired or volunteer to facilitate the meeting. Neighboring pastors or congregational leaders can exchange facilitating duties in each respective congregation. In contentious situations, objectivity and attention to good process allows the congregation to come to a clearer, more representative decision when a representative decision is called for.

Congregational meetings are often seen as a necessary evil to move a congregation forward. Boundaries and guidelines for meetings help each member to clarify their relationship and mission while empowering its members to contribute to the creative process. Leaders need to remember that the anxiety of a congregational meeting stirs a desire to defend positions, but the meeting is an opportunity for leaders to learn about the congregation. Conduct guidelines provide the space for a greater cross section of the congregation to present their ideas using the mind that God gave each of us.

Finding My Place and Opportunity to Serve in "The Great Reset": Making Meaning through Work

During my service at First Lutheran Community Church, I spend 2-6 hours each work day. For some people distance commuting is a way of life. I usually enjoy time in the car--I love my time on the open road. Driving served as great down time for me in the days before children and seriously managing a household. Today, the commute is a burden. For the past two months I have wondered how to better invest that time than an entertaining podcast or music. I've reconsidered my listening time since that 2-6 hours ends up devouring time given to study.

The work of Richard Florida sat on my reading list for years. I bought a book that sat on my shelf (typical). I recently started reading Florida's blog and tweets on economic geography. As a passionate student of church and context, I find Florida's research and analysis useful and refreshing. Many of Florida's ideas and methods continue racing through my thoughts well after completing his book: "The Great Reset: How New Ways of Living and Working Drive Post-Crash Prosperity."

1. Florida sees current economic challenges as an opportunity, though not through mere naive positive thinking.
2. Florida doesn't (explicitly) espouse a particular current American political ideology. His ideas reflect his research analysis rather than a loyalty to a manifesto or prevalent ideology. He regularly critiques government practices that some political activists would cheer, yet sees a positive place for government action to encourage creative work and a healthy sense of prosperity that other political activists would cheer.
3. Florida recognizes the value of historical practices, yet he challenges practices regardless of their place in history.
4. Florida challenges the practices of commuting and home ownership as accepted means to prosperity. This is one of the most challenging ideas for me because of my thousands of miles of commuting over the last decade. This idea also challenges my desire to own another home, even after the first experience was full of great moments in my family history to go along with the stumbling blocks and pain of home ownership. In what he calls "The Great Reset," where a backlog of creativity and opportunity is becoming unleashed, people in bad mortgage situations will be unable to respond to opportunities because they are stuck in their "owned" homes.
5. In this post-industrial/knowledge based economy, Florida asserts that finding meaning in work is a key component for the economy to thrive. Though Florida addresses meaning and work more clearly and eloquently, I wrestled with this idea on my own for the past 7-8 months, an idea I believe identifies a field of Christian service (maybe even more so for Lutherans). Luther recorded many thoughts on vocation, though I have read that Luther's understanding of vocation is different from our understanding. My challenge will be to understand whether these understandings of vocation can be linked. Regardless of that personal study, I still believe people can find meaning in their work in the context of the grace of God through Jesus Christ. Grace given and received, Christians live out a response not to earn God's love, but to live in thankfulness in service to our neighbor. If we believe in the transforming power of God's grace, that grace should affect how we interact with everyone, from our families, friends, in everyday interaction with co-workers and the general public while doing our work. In the post-industrial/knowledge-based economy, the service-type job sector continues to grow. People who cut hair, or help you buy your groceries or sell you hardware when you need something on a Saturday afternoon are not going to be outsourced to India or China. Therefore making these into meaningful jobs challenges this era's job market. I believe Christians can serve this era well.

My fellow servants at First Lutheran Community Church and I continue to learn about the depth of importance of work and meaning. As FLCC invited people in particular kinds of work to come for worship, fellowship and blessing at three different services earlier this year--our leaders and volunteers learned about the need to connect meaning and work through prayer and blessing. We all agreed that the greatest impact of our service project was the blessing--the laying on of hands and speaking a particular word of thanksgiving and encouragement was positive and moving for many in this community. Florida's observations about meaning and work confirmed what our leaders saw in our ministry.

Many of my recent social interactions reference Florida's latest book. Though not specifically ecclesiological, Florida has presented a new field that can be reached. I believe that field can be harvested by Christians.