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.
Showing posts with label hospitality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hospitality. Show all posts
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Imagining small church mission
What does it mean to be part of a small church?
This week, I began service as the pastor of St. John's Lutheran Church in Lakewood, Washington. St. John's is a gathering of approximately 40 people in Sunday morning worship. By almost any definition, St. John's is a small church. My small church experience is a small portion of my life with congregations.
1. I served an interim ministry at New Life Lutheran Church in Sergeant Bluff, Iowa, a community at the time of about 40 people in worship.
2. I served an interim ministry at a three-point parish in Lyman County, South Dakota. One of the congregations was distinctly small in Kennebec, the congregations in Vivian and Presho could be large enough to classify differently.
From experience, observation and study, here are the small church thoughts in my mind. I am taking an inventory of small church experiences. It should also be noted that as an interim pastor, I never lived in a small church community. There was always an understanding that I had relational access to people's lives, yet remained an outsider.
Congregational size is not the only variable of consequence. Region, denomination, judicatory, education and other variables can enter the discussion, but the focus of this reflection involves what I have gathered about small churches.
1. Often the small church is described with a sense of "plight." The small church is depicted in church circles as suffering or in disarray. Both seem to be associated with suburban migration of the mid- to late- 20th century; a migration that dwindled the size of both urban and rural congregations. The plight is that resources to fund urban or rural congregations fades as people leave, much like other urban and rural social institutions. Small churches can still thrive, I believe, but it also depends on the shared definition of what thriving means.
2. Power in small congregations must flow through the matriarchs and/or patriarchs of the congregation. Several decades ago, Arlin Rothauge published a short book on congregational size dynamics and named the 0-50 worship attendance congregation as a "family" church. Rothauge's observations have been parsed in congregations and church leadership circles for the better part of three decades. In this size of congregation, the members are often highly invested and see pastors come and go for many different reasons (see #3).
3. Pastoral leadership in small congregations often exists in a state of flux. Small congregations often cannot afford a full-time pastor, or an experienced pastor, because the salary levels cannot support clergy with a family living at home, or a pastor carrying large amounts of student loan debt. With pastors coming and going quickly, congregations develop a pattern of behavior where they can "wait out" the pastor and all of that particular pastor's ideas for ministry if they don't care for them.
4. In a small congregation, everyone knows everyone else. So the proverb goes--but I think this is a bit of a myth or euphemism for an intimacy that cannot be assumed. There may be a higher degree of familiarity among members/worshiper in small congregations than large congregations, but that does not necessarily reflect a depth of relationship.
5. What a small church needs is to replicate what is done at a large congregation. Reading a favorite blog, Church Marketing Sucks (CMS), I was reminded of how easily the replication notion is perpetuated. Large churches have the resources to share their experience, wisdom and knowledge with others. They share that information with pastors and congregations, and the small congregations often end up feeling inferior about what God is doing among them. As someone who has served both small and large congregations, this is not intentional, but it still goes on. Frustration continues to mount about good leadership resources for small congregations. The blog post from CMS reminded me about small-large congregation leadership dynamic.
In the end, what seems to matter is that people in a congregation can imagine a unique sense of mission independent of the aforementioned factors. This does not mean God's mission is lived in a vacuum. On the contrary, I think the question related to the Parable of the Good Samaritan is operative, "And who is my neighbor?" We need to know something about our neighbor in order to share good news in Christ.
Who is God? What is God doing? Who is my neighbor? I still have much to learn about small churches and the small church I am serving, but I need to remember these questions, and I look forward to addressing these questions with people in the community.
This week, I began service as the pastor of St. John's Lutheran Church in Lakewood, Washington. St. John's is a gathering of approximately 40 people in Sunday morning worship. By almost any definition, St. John's is a small church. My small church experience is a small portion of my life with congregations.
1. I served an interim ministry at New Life Lutheran Church in Sergeant Bluff, Iowa, a community at the time of about 40 people in worship.
2. I served an interim ministry at a three-point parish in Lyman County, South Dakota. One of the congregations was distinctly small in Kennebec, the congregations in Vivian and Presho could be large enough to classify differently.
From experience, observation and study, here are the small church thoughts in my mind. I am taking an inventory of small church experiences. It should also be noted that as an interim pastor, I never lived in a small church community. There was always an understanding that I had relational access to people's lives, yet remained an outsider.
Congregational size is not the only variable of consequence. Region, denomination, judicatory, education and other variables can enter the discussion, but the focus of this reflection involves what I have gathered about small churches.
1. Often the small church is described with a sense of "plight." The small church is depicted in church circles as suffering or in disarray. Both seem to be associated with suburban migration of the mid- to late- 20th century; a migration that dwindled the size of both urban and rural congregations. The plight is that resources to fund urban or rural congregations fades as people leave, much like other urban and rural social institutions. Small churches can still thrive, I believe, but it also depends on the shared definition of what thriving means.
2. Power in small congregations must flow through the matriarchs and/or patriarchs of the congregation. Several decades ago, Arlin Rothauge published a short book on congregational size dynamics and named the 0-50 worship attendance congregation as a "family" church. Rothauge's observations have been parsed in congregations and church leadership circles for the better part of three decades. In this size of congregation, the members are often highly invested and see pastors come and go for many different reasons (see #3).
3. Pastoral leadership in small congregations often exists in a state of flux. Small congregations often cannot afford a full-time pastor, or an experienced pastor, because the salary levels cannot support clergy with a family living at home, or a pastor carrying large amounts of student loan debt. With pastors coming and going quickly, congregations develop a pattern of behavior where they can "wait out" the pastor and all of that particular pastor's ideas for ministry if they don't care for them.
4. In a small congregation, everyone knows everyone else. So the proverb goes--but I think this is a bit of a myth or euphemism for an intimacy that cannot be assumed. There may be a higher degree of familiarity among members/worshiper in small congregations than large congregations, but that does not necessarily reflect a depth of relationship.
5. What a small church needs is to replicate what is done at a large congregation. Reading a favorite blog, Church Marketing Sucks (CMS), I was reminded of how easily the replication notion is perpetuated. Large churches have the resources to share their experience, wisdom and knowledge with others. They share that information with pastors and congregations, and the small congregations often end up feeling inferior about what God is doing among them. As someone who has served both small and large congregations, this is not intentional, but it still goes on. Frustration continues to mount about good leadership resources for small congregations. The blog post from CMS reminded me about small-large congregation leadership dynamic.
In the end, what seems to matter is that people in a congregation can imagine a unique sense of mission independent of the aforementioned factors. This does not mean God's mission is lived in a vacuum. On the contrary, I think the question related to the Parable of the Good Samaritan is operative, "And who is my neighbor?" We need to know something about our neighbor in order to share good news in Christ.
Who is God? What is God doing? Who is my neighbor? I still have much to learn about small churches and the small church I am serving, but I need to remember these questions, and I look forward to addressing these questions with people in the community.
Friday, May 20, 2011
The Interpretive Challenge of Unconference11
Human life in this age places value on experience. Each experience elicits a degree of response. A television program can be watched with varied responses. The responses can be laid out on a continuum. Some responses offer a short shelf-life: "can you believe that American Idol vote last night?" Each episode will only be dissected for so long for some. For others, the episode may accumulate with others and inspire a vocal performance career.
Any experience offers an opportunity for interpretation. I have attended numerous continuing education events over the years. Each learning experience, though varied in content, offered a very similar structure. A speaker/teacher of great repute travels and meets traveling participants for a provision of information. It's like I back my empty informational truck into a dock for a load of information. Though the content may be complex, the transaction is simple. I pay money. I receive information. I receive a binder or folder full of notes and handouts I will not likely crack open again. I receive a Power Point file attached to an email that clogs a memory stick or sits on my hard drive. I may have more information, but the information nourishes my body as if I attempted nourishment by swallowing a palm full of vitamins without eating any food. The intake at a conference may hold nutritive qualities, but the information isn't sticky. The typical workshop/conference/symposium in church circles fails the stickiness test. My library is a testimony to this observation. I store many binders with hope of using the material again, yet I often don't. This failure doesn't speak to the quality of the information, but the context in which it was delivered. Every educational experience challenges the participant to interpret the information to their own context. Conference hosts over the years have recognized that more people from each context increases the stickiness of the information (Bring a group! Save money! Broaden the application!) but the methodology still lacks the stickiness necessary for integration.
Unconference11 was a powerful experience for me. Not only because it represented a spiritual milestone for me, but because there was something incarnational about it. Fleshy and sticky. There was not only information shared, but relationships were graciously hosted with God and others. Every participant was given the opportunity to contribute and be respected. This is not what usually comes out of a conference. The ethos of a typical conference resembles a rock concert. If only you can get close to the star, get a backstage pass, some of that star quality might rub off into your context.
Last night I ate dinner with good friends who, like me have attended numerous conferences and workshops. They know the routine. Talk about the greatness of the speaker, the cutting edge discovery or technique, the idea that will change our contexts. I realized last night that I couldn't explain the experience in the same way that I have explained other learning events covering about 20 years of my life.
The challenge of interpreting Unconference11 remains. What will matter in these weeks ahead? First of all, I gathered with a small group of folks passionate about subversive and new ministry developments. I hope to resource this group of people as I enter into a trajectory of ministry new to me. I am thankful for that opportunity. Most of all, the interpretive challenge of Unco11 will not be whether I can share what exactly I learned and experienced among friends. I was respected. I was valued. I was given the opportunity to contribute both truth and beauty. I was healed and loved. No "conference" I have ever attended has done that. My inclination is that though my work and life in the church looks a lot like the conferences I have attended for 20 years--a lot of vitamins, but no nourishment. The interpretive challenge is not that I can replicate Unco11 in my context, but whether in my context I can share in the work of healing, respect, love and creativity. This sounds a lot like Jesus to me.
Any experience offers an opportunity for interpretation. I have attended numerous continuing education events over the years. Each learning experience, though varied in content, offered a very similar structure. A speaker/teacher of great repute travels and meets traveling participants for a provision of information. It's like I back my empty informational truck into a dock for a load of information. Though the content may be complex, the transaction is simple. I pay money. I receive information. I receive a binder or folder full of notes and handouts I will not likely crack open again. I receive a Power Point file attached to an email that clogs a memory stick or sits on my hard drive. I may have more information, but the information nourishes my body as if I attempted nourishment by swallowing a palm full of vitamins without eating any food. The intake at a conference may hold nutritive qualities, but the information isn't sticky. The typical workshop/conference/symposium in church circles fails the stickiness test. My library is a testimony to this observation. I store many binders with hope of using the material again, yet I often don't. This failure doesn't speak to the quality of the information, but the context in which it was delivered. Every educational experience challenges the participant to interpret the information to their own context. Conference hosts over the years have recognized that more people from each context increases the stickiness of the information (Bring a group! Save money! Broaden the application!) but the methodology still lacks the stickiness necessary for integration.
Unconference11 was a powerful experience for me. Not only because it represented a spiritual milestone for me, but because there was something incarnational about it. Fleshy and sticky. There was not only information shared, but relationships were graciously hosted with God and others. Every participant was given the opportunity to contribute and be respected. This is not what usually comes out of a conference. The ethos of a typical conference resembles a rock concert. If only you can get close to the star, get a backstage pass, some of that star quality might rub off into your context.
Last night I ate dinner with good friends who, like me have attended numerous conferences and workshops. They know the routine. Talk about the greatness of the speaker, the cutting edge discovery or technique, the idea that will change our contexts. I realized last night that I couldn't explain the experience in the same way that I have explained other learning events covering about 20 years of my life.
The challenge of interpreting Unconference11 remains. What will matter in these weeks ahead? First of all, I gathered with a small group of folks passionate about subversive and new ministry developments. I hope to resource this group of people as I enter into a trajectory of ministry new to me. I am thankful for that opportunity. Most of all, the interpretive challenge of Unco11 will not be whether I can share what exactly I learned and experienced among friends. I was respected. I was valued. I was given the opportunity to contribute both truth and beauty. I was healed and loved. No "conference" I have ever attended has done that. My inclination is that though my work and life in the church looks a lot like the conferences I have attended for 20 years--a lot of vitamins, but no nourishment. The interpretive challenge is not that I can replicate Unco11 in my context, but whether in my context I can share in the work of healing, respect, love and creativity. This sounds a lot like Jesus to me.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
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!
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!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
After the Vigil: Imagining Ministry Location
One of the last places I ever thought I would "do" ministry was at Wal-Mart. Over the years I've heard other ministry stretches. Laundromats, baseball games, red light districts, and state fairs (to name a few) are places colleagues have gone in the name of outreach, and ministry "beyond the building."
I'm not against any of the aforementioned places as venues for spiritual connection. Sometimes my imagination limits me in what kind of connection can be made with God and others. Limits on ministry sites have more to do with my lack of imagination than appropriateness of locale. I ascribe to the observation that we don't have many stories of Jesus in the worship space or the education wing of the local synagogue in the Gospels--therefore I try to imagine places outside the church building for connection with God and others. That is the example we have from Jesus. Sometimes it takes a prompt from the Spirit to recognize the opportunity.
When my colleague, Sarah Roemer, from Spirit of Life Lutheran Church (Port Orchard/Olalla) and I talked about response to the shooting in Port Orchard about 1 month ago, we considered hosting a vigil at a church (Or maybe only I really did. Which one?). The church building then seemed like the wrong place to be. Sarah moved us toward meeting at the Wal-Mart parking lot, at the site of the shooting. Pastor Sarah met with the Wal-Mart management for permission, I started getting the word out. Monday night, Wal-Mart parking lot, candlelight vigil. None of the things that made worship comfortable for me were present, and my blood pressure raised. Before long, a few tweets marked by the hashtag #POShooting gave us phone calls from local news outlets, and big portion of the vigil promotion was handled by television.
I had an interesting conversation with a reporter about the frequency of vigils in television news coverage. If you're in this line of work (television journalism)you end up covering a lot of vigils, especially the night shift, he told me. I turned that statement over in my mind all Monday afternoon. One might think that with all the vigils in response to violence, that violence would subside, or that people might question the importance of vigils.
Why do a vigil?
The section in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew with the beatitudes seemed appropriate for the vigil: blessed are those who mourn...
That part was easy, but I continued reading. "You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven (Matthew 5: 14-16 NRSV)."
Light in Jesus' statement is a given for his followers. We ARE the light of the world. The vigil was an opportunity to share light. In gathering together at the sight of the violence, people had an opportunity to overcome their fear and reclaim the space for peaceful gathering and living. Even at a Wal-Mart parking lot. Even when appearances say that vigils don't matter. I know that vigils do matter. My imagination was tweaked that chilly, rainy Monday evening. The time was not comfortable, the place was not comfortable, but it was a common, public space where fear abated and the light of Christ was shared.
I'm not against any of the aforementioned places as venues for spiritual connection. Sometimes my imagination limits me in what kind of connection can be made with God and others. Limits on ministry sites have more to do with my lack of imagination than appropriateness of locale. I ascribe to the observation that we don't have many stories of Jesus in the worship space or the education wing of the local synagogue in the Gospels--therefore I try to imagine places outside the church building for connection with God and others. That is the example we have from Jesus. Sometimes it takes a prompt from the Spirit to recognize the opportunity.
When my colleague, Sarah Roemer, from Spirit of Life Lutheran Church (Port Orchard/Olalla) and I talked about response to the shooting in Port Orchard about 1 month ago, we considered hosting a vigil at a church (Or maybe only I really did. Which one?). The church building then seemed like the wrong place to be. Sarah moved us toward meeting at the Wal-Mart parking lot, at the site of the shooting. Pastor Sarah met with the Wal-Mart management for permission, I started getting the word out. Monday night, Wal-Mart parking lot, candlelight vigil. None of the things that made worship comfortable for me were present, and my blood pressure raised. Before long, a few tweets marked by the hashtag #POShooting gave us phone calls from local news outlets, and big portion of the vigil promotion was handled by television.
I had an interesting conversation with a reporter about the frequency of vigils in television news coverage. If you're in this line of work (television journalism)you end up covering a lot of vigils, especially the night shift, he told me. I turned that statement over in my mind all Monday afternoon. One might think that with all the vigils in response to violence, that violence would subside, or that people might question the importance of vigils.
Why do a vigil?
The section in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew with the beatitudes seemed appropriate for the vigil: blessed are those who mourn...
That part was easy, but I continued reading. "You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven (Matthew 5: 14-16 NRSV)."
Light in Jesus' statement is a given for his followers. We ARE the light of the world. The vigil was an opportunity to share light. In gathering together at the sight of the violence, people had an opportunity to overcome their fear and reclaim the space for peaceful gathering and living. Even at a Wal-Mart parking lot. Even when appearances say that vigils don't matter. I know that vigils do matter. My imagination was tweaked that chilly, rainy Monday evening. The time was not comfortable, the place was not comfortable, but it was a common, public space where fear abated and the light of Christ was shared.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Shoring up the "family" in pastoral transition
As congregations emerge from a pastoral transition, the leadership begins discussion about what to do with those who have "strayed." People who further solidify their commitment to a congregation during a pastoral transition tend to believe that the public will be excited about their new pastor, as well as those who have lowered their commitment over the past few years. This part of transition is dangerous territory, mostly because this part of the path is thick with deeply rooted assumptions.
People who have increased their commitment to a congregation during a transition tend to assume the strayed members think like them and share their enthusiasm for a new pastor. If the perspective was shared, they would have been participating in the transition process in the first place. Those who have different commitment levels to the congregation do not warrant judgment, and if judgment is present, membership efforts will suffer. The public will probably be even less enthusiastic about a new pastorate. They may be curious about a new member of the community, but the public won't come rushing in just because a congregation welcomes a new pastor. To think otherwise overestimates the public presence of a congregation, especially in an age where congregations on the whole (especially in the Pacific Northwest) have eroded in their influence over the years. Even for a congregation deeply connected to public life, the social capital of a new pastor takes months and years of relationship building, both in trust and partnerships. This doesn't mean that the congregation should curb their enthusiasm about their new pastor or cut short their efforts to make public connections. Rather, congregations should be open minded about their expectations of the community.
Another assumption related to people whose commitment to a congregation wavers is linked to the desire to bring people back into the "family." I have strong suspicions (theologically and organizationally) of calling a congregation a family. However, the desire to bring back people who have lowered their commitment level feels as strong as the pull to bring back someone to a family fold who is/was estranged. That feeling is exacerbated in the midst of decline. The desire to reconnect with those who have separated from congregational life is not necessarily bad, but the methodology and responsibility must be clarified. In every interim ministry I served, a congregation assumes shoring up the "family" is the responsibility of the pastor. I tend to disagree with the idea of putting a lot of energy into shoring up the family, because this work tends to be done out of a position of anxiety rather than strength. If congregational leaders look at contacting people who have left the family as a means to get their numbers and budgets to better levels, the congregation is traveling a path that will lead to more anxiety and their work to connect will lack authenticity. If the methodology is rooted in a relational connection and an opportunity to learn about relational and ministry dynamics in the congregation, then the foundation for ministry will be stronger. I also struggle with the notion of "shoring up the family" because it is nearly impossible to have a conversation with someone who is walking away.
Regardless of the philosophy and theology of congregational membership, what I believe is of paramount importance is that a new pastor and congregational leadership have an understanding about methodology and responsibility related to membership. I have observed that this variable is the source of partnership breakdown in the both the previous pastorate and the new pastorate as well, and this variable is magnified in congregations that have experienced recent decline.
People who have increased their commitment to a congregation during a transition tend to assume the strayed members think like them and share their enthusiasm for a new pastor. If the perspective was shared, they would have been participating in the transition process in the first place. Those who have different commitment levels to the congregation do not warrant judgment, and if judgment is present, membership efforts will suffer. The public will probably be even less enthusiastic about a new pastorate. They may be curious about a new member of the community, but the public won't come rushing in just because a congregation welcomes a new pastor. To think otherwise overestimates the public presence of a congregation, especially in an age where congregations on the whole (especially in the Pacific Northwest) have eroded in their influence over the years. Even for a congregation deeply connected to public life, the social capital of a new pastor takes months and years of relationship building, both in trust and partnerships. This doesn't mean that the congregation should curb their enthusiasm about their new pastor or cut short their efforts to make public connections. Rather, congregations should be open minded about their expectations of the community.
Another assumption related to people whose commitment to a congregation wavers is linked to the desire to bring people back into the "family." I have strong suspicions (theologically and organizationally) of calling a congregation a family. However, the desire to bring back people who have lowered their commitment level feels as strong as the pull to bring back someone to a family fold who is/was estranged. That feeling is exacerbated in the midst of decline. The desire to reconnect with those who have separated from congregational life is not necessarily bad, but the methodology and responsibility must be clarified. In every interim ministry I served, a congregation assumes shoring up the "family" is the responsibility of the pastor. I tend to disagree with the idea of putting a lot of energy into shoring up the family, because this work tends to be done out of a position of anxiety rather than strength. If congregational leaders look at contacting people who have left the family as a means to get their numbers and budgets to better levels, the congregation is traveling a path that will lead to more anxiety and their work to connect will lack authenticity. If the methodology is rooted in a relational connection and an opportunity to learn about relational and ministry dynamics in the congregation, then the foundation for ministry will be stronger. I also struggle with the notion of "shoring up the family" because it is nearly impossible to have a conversation with someone who is walking away.
Regardless of the philosophy and theology of congregational membership, what I believe is of paramount importance is that a new pastor and congregational leadership have an understanding about methodology and responsibility related to membership. I have observed that this variable is the source of partnership breakdown in the both the previous pastorate and the new pastorate as well, and this variable is magnified in congregations that have experienced recent decline.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Reflections for soon before welcoming a new pastor
(This is a message shared with First Lutheran Community Church, Port Orchard, WA as they prepare to welcome a new pastor in the next few months. This message may be helpful for congregations at any stage in a transition to a new pastor in the next few months.)
Did you feel the recent windstorm?
After a call committee has recommended a candidate to the congregation, a collective exhale blows through the congregation. “We have found our candidate!” The exhale is a sign of impending relaxation, creating a wind that blows through the congregation. Though the pastoral candidate has been identified and the intense anxiety has subsided in light of new information, the focus will change, as will the work of the congregation.
Sometimes, once the candidate is a known face and name, a congregation can easily lose its way. I offer a few focusing thoughts for your prayers and consideration.
1. Many congregations hold an underlying belief that the new pastor will solve all of the congregation’s current problems. Not only is this not true, but it’s also a lot of pressure to place on your new pastor. Your new pastor may welcome the challenge and offer particular gifts to address congregational challenges, but the coming of a new pastor does not mean that offerings will instantly grow, and that worship attendance will make an instant positive spike. Congregational growth (in numbers and faith maturity) is the result of a variety of factors, and rarely do any of the factors of congregational growth come together without building and nurturing quality relationships. It will take time and energy investment to build a quality relationship with your next pastor, and for your pastor to build quality relationships with you and the Port Orchard community.
2. Related to point #1, quality relationships do not appear on based on pure spontaneity. Quality relationships take intentionality—an investment of time, care, reflection and prayer. The Transition Team and Council are working together to take the good intentions of the congregation and put them toward a strategic effort to show hospitality as your new pastor integrates into congregational and community life. You may be called upon to share your gifts in welcoming your new pastor as the time approaches. Your prayers are always needed, and your gifts and labor may also be needed. This intentional effort is necessary. Too often, congregations take months of effort in calling a pastor and find their process and ministry in a shambles because they did not follow through with hospitality and thoughtful planning to build the foundation for a quality ministry relationship with your next pastor.
I have been blessed to walk with you through the preparation for your next pastor. I am hopeful that your ministry together will be blessed in the years to come. The exhale you experienced will lead into a movement of the Holy Spirit in your shared ministry and bless others in the name of Christ.
Did you feel the recent windstorm?
After a call committee has recommended a candidate to the congregation, a collective exhale blows through the congregation. “We have found our candidate!” The exhale is a sign of impending relaxation, creating a wind that blows through the congregation. Though the pastoral candidate has been identified and the intense anxiety has subsided in light of new information, the focus will change, as will the work of the congregation.
Sometimes, once the candidate is a known face and name, a congregation can easily lose its way. I offer a few focusing thoughts for your prayers and consideration.
1. Many congregations hold an underlying belief that the new pastor will solve all of the congregation’s current problems. Not only is this not true, but it’s also a lot of pressure to place on your new pastor. Your new pastor may welcome the challenge and offer particular gifts to address congregational challenges, but the coming of a new pastor does not mean that offerings will instantly grow, and that worship attendance will make an instant positive spike. Congregational growth (in numbers and faith maturity) is the result of a variety of factors, and rarely do any of the factors of congregational growth come together without building and nurturing quality relationships. It will take time and energy investment to build a quality relationship with your next pastor, and for your pastor to build quality relationships with you and the Port Orchard community.
2. Related to point #1, quality relationships do not appear on based on pure spontaneity. Quality relationships take intentionality—an investment of time, care, reflection and prayer. The Transition Team and Council are working together to take the good intentions of the congregation and put them toward a strategic effort to show hospitality as your new pastor integrates into congregational and community life. You may be called upon to share your gifts in welcoming your new pastor as the time approaches. Your prayers are always needed, and your gifts and labor may also be needed. This intentional effort is necessary. Too often, congregations take months of effort in calling a pastor and find their process and ministry in a shambles because they did not follow through with hospitality and thoughtful planning to build the foundation for a quality ministry relationship with your next pastor.
I have been blessed to walk with you through the preparation for your next pastor. I am hopeful that your ministry together will be blessed in the years to come. The exhale you experienced will lead into a movement of the Holy Spirit in your shared ministry and bless others in the name of Christ.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Remembering Dave Niehaus
This post is not meant to imply that I can't distinguish the difference between baseball and faith. I would never preach a sermon series on Dave Niehaus (though I have a sneaking suspicion some of this reflection will appear in my Sunday sermon). However, the death of Dave Niehaus and recognizing his impact on my life and thousands of people across the Pacific Northwest and baseball lovers across the country stirs reflection on similarities between what Dave Niehaus embodied and what I imagine the pastoral life to be.
For 34 seasons in games that spanned 6 months of the year, from spring training to the painfully infrequent, yet jubilant playoff appearances, Dave Niehaus shared with his listeners what I seek in myself as a pastor. Dave's signature voice was both the backdrop and forefront of my family's life since I was 6 years old. It is not a token statement to say that Dave radio depictions of a simple game taught me hope, joy, belief, wisdom, encouragement, storytelling, camaraderie, teamwork and passion.
I began to hear Dave's voice sitting in front of the console radio at my Grandparent's house in Renton. My parents attended the opening game, my father thrilled that baseball had returned to Seattle. He told me stories about the Seattle Rainiers and Seattle Pilots--his stories and memories of heroes, woven with stories of his own father, a man I never met. Beginning with my evenings in front of the console radio, I began to hear stories of my Gram, who listened to Portland Beavers baseball games with her father at their home in Camas, Washington, along the Columbia River. I was attached to Dave's voice almost instantly, developing my own heroes through his story telling. They weren't great players in those early years, but they were still my heroes: Ruppert Jones, Bob Stinson, Bill Stein, Diego Segui, Craig Reynolds, Enrique Romo, Rick Honeycutt. I wanted them to do well, just as Dave did. Dave even made food sound better with his distinctive voice--Darigold dairy products, and Langendorf Old Fashioned White Bread. Dave's voice was everywhere in our lives: as we participated in life's daily activities, travel, yard work, play, family gatherings of all kinds, and the frequent visits to my Grandparent's house. Dave's words became the words of my brothers John and Jimmy as we played wiffle ball wherever we could.
When I left the Pacific Northwest to pursue my own vocation and baseball life in the Midwest, I didn't realize how much I missed Dave Niehaus until I listened to broadcasts in other cities. The other cities had their signature broadcasters and calls, and were endearing to their fans--Herb Carneal and John Gordon in Minnesota, Bob Uecker in Milwaukee, Denny Matthews in Kansas City, no one I heard outside of Vin Scully in Los Angeles and Ernie Harwell of Detroit was in the league of baseball story tellers extraordinaire like Dave Niehaus. I appreciated the broadcasting craft, but the stories and telling of the game inspired in me a love for baseball and a passion for engaging life. Dave's words became a way that my family and friends brought some poetry and passion to our conversations. My friend Bret and I sometimes greeted each other with Dave-isms. I was thankful to have Dave's voice ring through my house in South Dakota once I could lounge on a summer day, with my wife Melanie joining my daughter in the backyard with a Mariners game streaming on my laptop from mlb.com. I was ecstatic to return to the Pacific Northwest in 2009 and reacquaint myself with more regular Niehaus contact. After hearing that the Mariners had traded for Cliff Lee during the 2009-10 off-season, I started to spout off Dave-isms in the car with my daughters on our daily commute.
"Ninety-eight mile an hour, high octane, GAS!"
"Swung on and belted!"
"Get out the rye bread and the mustard, Grandma, it's GRAND SALAMI time!"
"Diabolical. That stank!"
"Loooooowwwwwwwwwww, ball 3"
"Fly, fly, away!"
"My, oh, my!"
My 4-year old daughter sometimes echoed my exclamations, but sometimes she had to tell me to stop.
My family and friends imagined what it would be like if the Mariners ever won a World Series. I stated Dave Niehaus would spontaneously combust or die joyfully on the spot. Even if the Mariners staged a dramatic win 34 games out of first place, Dave shook the broadcast booth with his jubilation. He might not be able to contain himself.
In 1995, I thought the Mariners might get to that point of collective ecstasy. I was serving a congregation in Copenhagen on my pastoral internship. In the age before widely available Internet, I had to scour any piece of news to get my hands on the daily work of the surging Seattle Mariners. I lamented that I couldn't connect with Niehaus' words, but well over a decade of listening to Niehaus produced imagined descriptions in my mind's eye. My mentor and friend Steve Bain invited me to his home to spend the night so we could watch the playoff broadcasts in the wee hours of the morning, trying to contain ourselves just enough so that we wouldn't stir his sleeping family. We watched the national/international broadcast, all the time wishing or imagining we could hear Dave. Bleary eyed, yet joyful, I went to my work after watching the games, having slept maybe 2 hours. Good thing I was young at the time.
For the years 1995-2003, the Mariners often shaped the discussion of baseball excellence. They were the only example of "glory years" for the franchise, and even then, only about half of those years they were playoff teams. But Dave had a special lilt and enthusiasm in his voice during those years, and in some ways, I was most happy for him, because Dave was always present for the public and the Mariners, I felt he deserved some actual joy instead of hopeful joy (if those can be distinguished).
It was the other years of baseball that I learned more from Dave Niehaus. The Mariners have often been a bad baseball team. But my family has always been willing to listen, because Dave was always willing to lead the team and share the stories in his signature way. Listening to Dave in spring training and throughout the year, he always told a story of hope. He lived a life that said passion matters. Learning the facts matters. Encouraging the team matters. Seeing the best in people matters. Celebrating victories matters. He anticipated something good happening in every pitch or swing of the bat. It didn't matter that Dave's judgment of a batted ball was sometimes completely off, believing a lazy fly ball had home run potential. His hope and belief in what was possible for the Seattle Mariners was often endearing, yet on the whole, inspiring.
In some way, Dave Niehaus gave me a sense of interim ministry through all of those losing seasons. Dave gave me insight on how to go into a place and tell stories of hope in the midst of what appears bleak. That is part of my job in interim ministry, things that Dave did as a baseball broadcaster. To celebrate the daily joys of life. To offer wisdom and encouragements to teammates. To report on the context and goals of the organization. To live a life of thankfulness when many are tempted to dwell on the negative aspects of collective life. Jesus is my ultimate example of this kind of life. I do not know Dave Niehaus' faith, but he reminded me and highlighted to me some of what I am called to do in life.
Today I need to visit my 87-year old Gram and tell her that Dave Niehaus died. For 34 years his voice filled their house. That voice was second only to my Granddad. I remember during a baseball pilgrimage with my friend Cameron in 1991, we visited Tiger Stadium in Detroit. I knew my grandparents were listening, so I sent a message to the press box for Dave to greet June and Jerry Zubrod in Renton listening to the game. I knew he was glad to do it and my grandparents were thrilled to hear their names said by Dave. My mother saw Dave just a few weeks ago and shook his hand. He was gracious and hospitable, full of smiles and looking well. I'm glad she was able to show him some level of appreciation for his place in our family's life. It seems fitting that connection was made.
Thanks to Dave Niehaus and his family for sharing his gifts with the Pacific Northwest for 34 years. My life has been inspired and made better because of his gifts. I am sad, but I am thankful. This has been said many times over the past 18 hours, but fly, fly away, Dave. Thank God and thank you for the memories.
For 34 seasons in games that spanned 6 months of the year, from spring training to the painfully infrequent, yet jubilant playoff appearances, Dave Niehaus shared with his listeners what I seek in myself as a pastor. Dave's signature voice was both the backdrop and forefront of my family's life since I was 6 years old. It is not a token statement to say that Dave radio depictions of a simple game taught me hope, joy, belief, wisdom, encouragement, storytelling, camaraderie, teamwork and passion.
I began to hear Dave's voice sitting in front of the console radio at my Grandparent's house in Renton. My parents attended the opening game, my father thrilled that baseball had returned to Seattle. He told me stories about the Seattle Rainiers and Seattle Pilots--his stories and memories of heroes, woven with stories of his own father, a man I never met. Beginning with my evenings in front of the console radio, I began to hear stories of my Gram, who listened to Portland Beavers baseball games with her father at their home in Camas, Washington, along the Columbia River. I was attached to Dave's voice almost instantly, developing my own heroes through his story telling. They weren't great players in those early years, but they were still my heroes: Ruppert Jones, Bob Stinson, Bill Stein, Diego Segui, Craig Reynolds, Enrique Romo, Rick Honeycutt. I wanted them to do well, just as Dave did. Dave even made food sound better with his distinctive voice--Darigold dairy products, and Langendorf Old Fashioned White Bread. Dave's voice was everywhere in our lives: as we participated in life's daily activities, travel, yard work, play, family gatherings of all kinds, and the frequent visits to my Grandparent's house. Dave's words became the words of my brothers John and Jimmy as we played wiffle ball wherever we could.
When I left the Pacific Northwest to pursue my own vocation and baseball life in the Midwest, I didn't realize how much I missed Dave Niehaus until I listened to broadcasts in other cities. The other cities had their signature broadcasters and calls, and were endearing to their fans--Herb Carneal and John Gordon in Minnesota, Bob Uecker in Milwaukee, Denny Matthews in Kansas City, no one I heard outside of Vin Scully in Los Angeles and Ernie Harwell of Detroit was in the league of baseball story tellers extraordinaire like Dave Niehaus. I appreciated the broadcasting craft, but the stories and telling of the game inspired in me a love for baseball and a passion for engaging life. Dave's words became a way that my family and friends brought some poetry and passion to our conversations. My friend Bret and I sometimes greeted each other with Dave-isms. I was thankful to have Dave's voice ring through my house in South Dakota once I could lounge on a summer day, with my wife Melanie joining my daughter in the backyard with a Mariners game streaming on my laptop from mlb.com. I was ecstatic to return to the Pacific Northwest in 2009 and reacquaint myself with more regular Niehaus contact. After hearing that the Mariners had traded for Cliff Lee during the 2009-10 off-season, I started to spout off Dave-isms in the car with my daughters on our daily commute.
"Ninety-eight mile an hour, high octane, GAS!"
"Swung on and belted!"
"Get out the rye bread and the mustard, Grandma, it's GRAND SALAMI time!"
"Diabolical. That stank!"
"Loooooowwwwwwwwwww, ball 3"
"Fly, fly, away!"
"My, oh, my!"
My 4-year old daughter sometimes echoed my exclamations, but sometimes she had to tell me to stop.
My family and friends imagined what it would be like if the Mariners ever won a World Series. I stated Dave Niehaus would spontaneously combust or die joyfully on the spot. Even if the Mariners staged a dramatic win 34 games out of first place, Dave shook the broadcast booth with his jubilation. He might not be able to contain himself.
In 1995, I thought the Mariners might get to that point of collective ecstasy. I was serving a congregation in Copenhagen on my pastoral internship. In the age before widely available Internet, I had to scour any piece of news to get my hands on the daily work of the surging Seattle Mariners. I lamented that I couldn't connect with Niehaus' words, but well over a decade of listening to Niehaus produced imagined descriptions in my mind's eye. My mentor and friend Steve Bain invited me to his home to spend the night so we could watch the playoff broadcasts in the wee hours of the morning, trying to contain ourselves just enough so that we wouldn't stir his sleeping family. We watched the national/international broadcast, all the time wishing or imagining we could hear Dave. Bleary eyed, yet joyful, I went to my work after watching the games, having slept maybe 2 hours. Good thing I was young at the time.
For the years 1995-2003, the Mariners often shaped the discussion of baseball excellence. They were the only example of "glory years" for the franchise, and even then, only about half of those years they were playoff teams. But Dave had a special lilt and enthusiasm in his voice during those years, and in some ways, I was most happy for him, because Dave was always present for the public and the Mariners, I felt he deserved some actual joy instead of hopeful joy (if those can be distinguished).
It was the other years of baseball that I learned more from Dave Niehaus. The Mariners have often been a bad baseball team. But my family has always been willing to listen, because Dave was always willing to lead the team and share the stories in his signature way. Listening to Dave in spring training and throughout the year, he always told a story of hope. He lived a life that said passion matters. Learning the facts matters. Encouraging the team matters. Seeing the best in people matters. Celebrating victories matters. He anticipated something good happening in every pitch or swing of the bat. It didn't matter that Dave's judgment of a batted ball was sometimes completely off, believing a lazy fly ball had home run potential. His hope and belief in what was possible for the Seattle Mariners was often endearing, yet on the whole, inspiring.
In some way, Dave Niehaus gave me a sense of interim ministry through all of those losing seasons. Dave gave me insight on how to go into a place and tell stories of hope in the midst of what appears bleak. That is part of my job in interim ministry, things that Dave did as a baseball broadcaster. To celebrate the daily joys of life. To offer wisdom and encouragements to teammates. To report on the context and goals of the organization. To live a life of thankfulness when many are tempted to dwell on the negative aspects of collective life. Jesus is my ultimate example of this kind of life. I do not know Dave Niehaus' faith, but he reminded me and highlighted to me some of what I am called to do in life.
Today I need to visit my 87-year old Gram and tell her that Dave Niehaus died. For 34 years his voice filled their house. That voice was second only to my Granddad. I remember during a baseball pilgrimage with my friend Cameron in 1991, we visited Tiger Stadium in Detroit. I knew my grandparents were listening, so I sent a message to the press box for Dave to greet June and Jerry Zubrod in Renton listening to the game. I knew he was glad to do it and my grandparents were thrilled to hear their names said by Dave. My mother saw Dave just a few weeks ago and shook his hand. He was gracious and hospitable, full of smiles and looking well. I'm glad she was able to show him some level of appreciation for his place in our family's life. It seems fitting that connection was made.
Thanks to Dave Niehaus and his family for sharing his gifts with the Pacific Northwest for 34 years. My life has been inspired and made better because of his gifts. I am sad, but I am thankful. This has been said many times over the past 18 hours, but fly, fly away, Dave. Thank God and thank you for the memories.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Sermon: Why are THESE PEOPLE my neighbors?
Joshua 9
Luke 10: 25-37
People who attend a worship service have come a long way in their understanding of who their neighbors are. For decades and sometimes centuries, what it meant to be part of a congregation in North America was to be part of an ethnic enclave of people (some of these enclaves still exist, and new enclaves are forming). These enclaves may have had some interaction with other enclaves, but it was easy to have social and cultural norms reinforced, especially during church. If you wonder how this ethnic cultural reinforcement works think of the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. The Finns had their own church, the Germans had their own church, the English had their own church, the African Americans had their own church, the Scots had their own church, the Norwegians had their own church, the Danes had their own church. Some people in this congregation may have a memory of a marriage or a relationship that was considered dangerous because a Norwegian married a Swede, a Roman Catholic married a Lutheran, or if someone of Northern European descent married someone of Asian descent. Sometimes boundaries aren't negotiated on ethnicity, but political affiliation or theological perspective.
The challenges continue, though the scope of that challenge has changed. The understanding of how we evolve in our relationships with neighbors is often conditioned by recent history and the stress we experience in the world which we live. When we experience stress in relationships, it is tempting to gain immediate relief in those relationships rather than attempt to negotiate their complexity. One of my favorite past times in the midst of stress in relating to my neighbors is to engage in some righteous indignation about the superiority of my perspective. In my Big Fat Greek Wedding, when a Greek father is considering the stress that his Greek daughter is marrying a non Greek man, Costa Portakales directs some disgust to his future son in law in Greek, "my people were developing philosophy while your people were swinging from trees." Sometimes people will join me in my anger, and for a few minutes we experience relief. Other times I pause and reflect on my stress, and realize that I am a fool. Sometimes I don't want to consider that God looks out for my neighbor.
In the midst of the stress of negotiating relationships that we do not understand, we go to our principles of faithful living. Christians go to church, gather in Christian community, and study the Bible as a means of negotiating the world in which we live. The Bible often provides us with a foundational understanding of what it means to relate to God and one another. Some biblical writings are easier to negotiate with others. "You shall not kill" is little easier for most people to reconcile than "you shall love your neighbor as yourself." The question posed by the "lawyer" in Jesus' parable of the Good Samaritan reflects how challenging neighbor relationships can be, because we struggle to relate to the identity of our neighbor. Are our neighbors merely our kin? Does our roster of neighbors include only the people who live in close proximity? How is proximity defined? By city, county or national boundary, maybe college football fan base? Going to University of Washington's Husky Stadium for a football game yesterday it was interesting to see who is the neighbor of a Husky fan. Cougars are not neighbors (even though Cougars and Huskies are neighbors in Washington). Ducks are not neighbors (even though their state is adjacent, and Ducks live among Huskies. (Any mixed marriages of colleges out there)? But Michigan Wolverines? They aren't in as close proximity as Ducks or Cougars, but they were named as neighbors. Why? Because they beat the Notre Dame Fighting Irish! Is our neighbor the person who shares the same ethnic heritage? Is our neighbor the person who shares the same political or theological perspective? In North America, we are able to deal with our understanding of neighbor a little differently based on the sheer fact that we have the ability to move if we don't like how the relationships are going with our neighbors. We move to the suburbs, then we move back to the cities, and so on. Understanding of what it means to be a neighbor is constantly shifting.
The people of the Ancient Near East, in the times of the Bible, did not have the means of mobility that we do. In some ways, we are both mobile societies, but one thing we have in America is space, and lots of it. But people in Bible times have the same struggles with defining the meaning of neighbor as we do, with a lot less space with which to work. If you travel to Israel and Palestine one can see the diversity of people living in a very tight space. When we go to the Bible for guidance in the stressful world of negotiating neighbor relationships, the Bible isn't particularly unified about who our neighbor really is, and I think neighbor confusion is reflected in our public discourse. Sometimes that confusion comes to a violent head, as we have seen recently in the fervor related to Pastor Terry Jones and his congregation in Florida creating an event to burn the Quran, the Muslim holy book. This seemingly insignificant local event became known worldwide, because it served as a lightning rod for the stress related to how Americans negotiate a mosque being built near Ground Zero in New York City. The vitriol exchanged in public discourse is stressful in itself. It's tempting to blame "the media" for the fever pitch coverage of the topic, but often times "the media" reflects the state of the public. This is a relationship of neighbors, and it's not simple, especially when lives are on the line.
How do Christians negotiate a complex web of relationships? How does God?
I offer you the Bible story in Joshua 9 as a means to think about God's action in the midst of complex neighbor relationships. The story tells readers about the Gibeonites, a group who lived in close proximity to Joshua's people in the land of Canaan. They were a group set up to be exterminated according to God's call to Joshua. His conquest in Jericho and Ai were already documented and a reputation for their strength was well known throughout the region. The Gibeonites were aware that Joshua's people were to show hospitality to those who lived far away from Canaan, so they made it look like they came from far away in order that they had a better chance to establish a covenant between the two peoples. The Gibeonites used deception, and the story documents that Israel did not consult God in their dealings with the Gibeonites. A covenant was established between the peoples. When Israel discovered they had been deceived, the leaders were furious they had been tricked, and wanted to destroy them. But Joshua believed they should hold to the oath to God about peace with the Gibeonites.
The circumstances of neighbor relationships change in Joshua 9. An underdog people is spared in the midst of Israel taking possession of the land of Canaan. Why does God not intervene in this story if all the peoples of Canaan are supposed to be destroyed? Is God not only looking out for Israel, but looking out for people who are not part of Israel? Joshua 9 reveals that neighbor relationships are not as cut and dried as we think, and actually in flux. It also reveals that God is looking out for our neighbors, even the neighbors who are different than us. Circumstances matter. Lives hang in the balance. Circumstances matter in Joshua 9, and they matter in public discourse around the mosque near Ground Zero. Listen Up TV www.listenuptv.com has been reporting on the complex web of relationships around Ground Zero--people who have lost loved ones on 9/11/01, as well as Muslim and Christian leaders close to the situation. Their video clip is worth your time (with more forthcoming). Though Jesus gives his followers an ethic of being a neighbor is rooted in mercy,
today's examples provide us insight to the complexity of what it means to be a neighbor, to show mercy in the midst of anxiety, fear, vitriol and demeaning public discourse is an extraordinary act of faith. We cannot do it alone.
If we think of Jesus' last days on Earth, Jesus acted with mercy in the midst of fear, anxiety, vitriol. The parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10 is a microcosm and foreshadowing of Jesus' death and resurrection. Jesus had the power of God to crush his enemies and punish those who betrayed him, yet he extended mercy to all of them. Though retribution for the injustice showed to Jesus was justified, Jesus' resurrection overcomes the fear, anxiety, vitriol and demeaning act of crucifixion and brings love and forgiveness to the world.
Ground Zero is hundreds of miles away from much of the US and can seem distant, yet the discussion still matters. What can Christians do in response to the mercy of God in Christ? Faith in Christ is one thing. Keeping public discourse calm in the midst of anxiety is another. Our everyday actions may seem small, but they matter. St. Luke's Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) showed some mercy to their Jewish and Muslim neighbors by posting a message of peace to their neighbors of different traditions on their church sign (quite a contrast to Burn A Koran Day in Florida). How is God calling you to share mercy in the world? How is God calling communities of faith? The life, death and resurrection of Christ reveals to us each day that the power of mercy can transform the world.
Luke 10: 25-37
People who attend a worship service have come a long way in their understanding of who their neighbors are. For decades and sometimes centuries, what it meant to be part of a congregation in North America was to be part of an ethnic enclave of people (some of these enclaves still exist, and new enclaves are forming). These enclaves may have had some interaction with other enclaves, but it was easy to have social and cultural norms reinforced, especially during church. If you wonder how this ethnic cultural reinforcement works think of the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. The Finns had their own church, the Germans had their own church, the English had their own church, the African Americans had their own church, the Scots had their own church, the Norwegians had their own church, the Danes had their own church. Some people in this congregation may have a memory of a marriage or a relationship that was considered dangerous because a Norwegian married a Swede, a Roman Catholic married a Lutheran, or if someone of Northern European descent married someone of Asian descent. Sometimes boundaries aren't negotiated on ethnicity, but political affiliation or theological perspective.
The challenges continue, though the scope of that challenge has changed. The understanding of how we evolve in our relationships with neighbors is often conditioned by recent history and the stress we experience in the world which we live. When we experience stress in relationships, it is tempting to gain immediate relief in those relationships rather than attempt to negotiate their complexity. One of my favorite past times in the midst of stress in relating to my neighbors is to engage in some righteous indignation about the superiority of my perspective. In my Big Fat Greek Wedding, when a Greek father is considering the stress that his Greek daughter is marrying a non Greek man, Costa Portakales directs some disgust to his future son in law in Greek, "my people were developing philosophy while your people were swinging from trees." Sometimes people will join me in my anger, and for a few minutes we experience relief. Other times I pause and reflect on my stress, and realize that I am a fool. Sometimes I don't want to consider that God looks out for my neighbor.
In the midst of the stress of negotiating relationships that we do not understand, we go to our principles of faithful living. Christians go to church, gather in Christian community, and study the Bible as a means of negotiating the world in which we live. The Bible often provides us with a foundational understanding of what it means to relate to God and one another. Some biblical writings are easier to negotiate with others. "You shall not kill" is little easier for most people to reconcile than "you shall love your neighbor as yourself." The question posed by the "lawyer" in Jesus' parable of the Good Samaritan reflects how challenging neighbor relationships can be, because we struggle to relate to the identity of our neighbor. Are our neighbors merely our kin? Does our roster of neighbors include only the people who live in close proximity? How is proximity defined? By city, county or national boundary, maybe college football fan base? Going to University of Washington's Husky Stadium for a football game yesterday it was interesting to see who is the neighbor of a Husky fan. Cougars are not neighbors (even though Cougars and Huskies are neighbors in Washington). Ducks are not neighbors (even though their state is adjacent, and Ducks live among Huskies. (Any mixed marriages of colleges out there)? But Michigan Wolverines? They aren't in as close proximity as Ducks or Cougars, but they were named as neighbors. Why? Because they beat the Notre Dame Fighting Irish! Is our neighbor the person who shares the same ethnic heritage? Is our neighbor the person who shares the same political or theological perspective? In North America, we are able to deal with our understanding of neighbor a little differently based on the sheer fact that we have the ability to move if we don't like how the relationships are going with our neighbors. We move to the suburbs, then we move back to the cities, and so on. Understanding of what it means to be a neighbor is constantly shifting.
The people of the Ancient Near East, in the times of the Bible, did not have the means of mobility that we do. In some ways, we are both mobile societies, but one thing we have in America is space, and lots of it. But people in Bible times have the same struggles with defining the meaning of neighbor as we do, with a lot less space with which to work. If you travel to Israel and Palestine one can see the diversity of people living in a very tight space. When we go to the Bible for guidance in the stressful world of negotiating neighbor relationships, the Bible isn't particularly unified about who our neighbor really is, and I think neighbor confusion is reflected in our public discourse. Sometimes that confusion comes to a violent head, as we have seen recently in the fervor related to Pastor Terry Jones and his congregation in Florida creating an event to burn the Quran, the Muslim holy book. This seemingly insignificant local event became known worldwide, because it served as a lightning rod for the stress related to how Americans negotiate a mosque being built near Ground Zero in New York City. The vitriol exchanged in public discourse is stressful in itself. It's tempting to blame "the media" for the fever pitch coverage of the topic, but often times "the media" reflects the state of the public. This is a relationship of neighbors, and it's not simple, especially when lives are on the line.
How do Christians negotiate a complex web of relationships? How does God?
I offer you the Bible story in Joshua 9 as a means to think about God's action in the midst of complex neighbor relationships. The story tells readers about the Gibeonites, a group who lived in close proximity to Joshua's people in the land of Canaan. They were a group set up to be exterminated according to God's call to Joshua. His conquest in Jericho and Ai were already documented and a reputation for their strength was well known throughout the region. The Gibeonites were aware that Joshua's people were to show hospitality to those who lived far away from Canaan, so they made it look like they came from far away in order that they had a better chance to establish a covenant between the two peoples. The Gibeonites used deception, and the story documents that Israel did not consult God in their dealings with the Gibeonites. A covenant was established between the peoples. When Israel discovered they had been deceived, the leaders were furious they had been tricked, and wanted to destroy them. But Joshua believed they should hold to the oath to God about peace with the Gibeonites.
The circumstances of neighbor relationships change in Joshua 9. An underdog people is spared in the midst of Israel taking possession of the land of Canaan. Why does God not intervene in this story if all the peoples of Canaan are supposed to be destroyed? Is God not only looking out for Israel, but looking out for people who are not part of Israel? Joshua 9 reveals that neighbor relationships are not as cut and dried as we think, and actually in flux. It also reveals that God is looking out for our neighbors, even the neighbors who are different than us. Circumstances matter. Lives hang in the balance. Circumstances matter in Joshua 9, and they matter in public discourse around the mosque near Ground Zero. Listen Up TV www.listenuptv.com has been reporting on the complex web of relationships around Ground Zero--people who have lost loved ones on 9/11/01, as well as Muslim and Christian leaders close to the situation. Their video clip is worth your time (with more forthcoming). Though Jesus gives his followers an ethic of being a neighbor is rooted in mercy,
today's examples provide us insight to the complexity of what it means to be a neighbor, to show mercy in the midst of anxiety, fear, vitriol and demeaning public discourse is an extraordinary act of faith. We cannot do it alone.
If we think of Jesus' last days on Earth, Jesus acted with mercy in the midst of fear, anxiety, vitriol. The parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10 is a microcosm and foreshadowing of Jesus' death and resurrection. Jesus had the power of God to crush his enemies and punish those who betrayed him, yet he extended mercy to all of them. Though retribution for the injustice showed to Jesus was justified, Jesus' resurrection overcomes the fear, anxiety, vitriol and demeaning act of crucifixion and brings love and forgiveness to the world.
Ground Zero is hundreds of miles away from much of the US and can seem distant, yet the discussion still matters. What can Christians do in response to the mercy of God in Christ? Faith in Christ is one thing. Keeping public discourse calm in the midst of anxiety is another. Our everyday actions may seem small, but they matter. St. Luke's Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) showed some mercy to their Jewish and Muslim neighbors by posting a message of peace to their neighbors of different traditions on their church sign (quite a contrast to Burn A Koran Day in Florida). How is God calling you to share mercy in the world? How is God calling communities of faith? The life, death and resurrection of Christ reveals to us each day that the power of mercy can transform the world.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Book Review: "Tribal Church: Minstering to the Missing Generation" by Carol Howard Merritt
I know I am late to the party reviewing this book (I have an excuse); Carol Howard Merritt (a Presbyterian Church-USA pastor) is about to publish another book--soon. Maybe people who are checking out her new book will want to know more about the older book.
Many reviewers of Tribal Church stated there are good ideas in Carol's book for inter generational ministry, but I'm not so sure this is an idea book as a conversation for leaders (and anyone else interested) about their congregational culture. If you're looking for specific ideas to replicate, you might find something, but you might look to another resource. Tribal Church likely fits better for small to mid-sized (up to 250 in worship) "Mainline [or what I call 20th Century-Brand] Protestants." Carol happens to name the plight of missing Gen Xers and Millennials and what it means for the life of the Church, but Carol's content and style inspires any congregation to better use the assets it already has to reach people in the margins of the community. I believe this is the book's greatest gift. The book's final chapter magnificently states in affirmation "The mainline denominational church has everything it needs to minister to younger generations." This is a powerful statement, I find that most of the congregations I serve in one capacity or another focus on what they do not have, rather than what they have.
When reviewing a ministry book, I answer the question, "how would I use this book in my congregation?" I have served in interim ministry for 9 years, covering 9 congregations. I believe the congregational transition between pastors is a great time to use this book. Here is why I would have used it in most (but not all) of my interim congregations:
1. Most small to mid-sized congregations, for a variety of reasons, will be calling a younger clergy person in their future. Carol names and broadly discusses the numerous challenging variables for young clergy (it should be noted that most variables could apply to early career clergy, but particularly young clergy). Some congregations may not be aware of the challenges and the lack of awareness could be the source of previous pastor-congregation discord. Awareness and action to address certain issues named in the book could produce a healthier relationship with the next pastor.
2. Pastoral transitions provide a great opportunity to evaluate congregational ministries. Howard Merritt astutely raises points around many contentious situations in the target congregational group:
I have a hard time not liking this book. Having recently exited the sub-group of "young clergy," I share a great deal of solidarity with Carol Howard Merritt and the advocacy she offers for Gen X and Millennial generations, as well as the small to mid-sized mainline Protestant congregations. I've served a majority of my ordination working with congregations in that classification, and shared in her advocacy work. The book could easily be shared in a coffee house or a church basement over a series covered dish/potluck/hotdish supper (depending on your area of the country), or in a church board room. You don't have to agree with every issue Carol Howard Merritt raises, but she will introduce you to an important evaluation of your congregational culture and practices worthy of a personal and graceful discussion, especially if you notice that Gen X and Millennial generations are missing from your congregational life.
Many reviewers of Tribal Church stated there are good ideas in Carol's book for inter generational ministry, but I'm not so sure this is an idea book as a conversation for leaders (and anyone else interested) about their congregational culture. If you're looking for specific ideas to replicate, you might find something, but you might look to another resource. Tribal Church likely fits better for small to mid-sized (up to 250 in worship) "Mainline [or what I call 20th Century-Brand] Protestants." Carol happens to name the plight of missing Gen Xers and Millennials and what it means for the life of the Church, but Carol's content and style inspires any congregation to better use the assets it already has to reach people in the margins of the community. I believe this is the book's greatest gift. The book's final chapter magnificently states in affirmation "The mainline denominational church has everything it needs to minister to younger generations." This is a powerful statement, I find that most of the congregations I serve in one capacity or another focus on what they do not have, rather than what they have.
When reviewing a ministry book, I answer the question, "how would I use this book in my congregation?" I have served in interim ministry for 9 years, covering 9 congregations. I believe the congregational transition between pastors is a great time to use this book. Here is why I would have used it in most (but not all) of my interim congregations:
1. Most small to mid-sized congregations, for a variety of reasons, will be calling a younger clergy person in their future. Carol names and broadly discusses the numerous challenging variables for young clergy (it should be noted that most variables could apply to early career clergy, but particularly young clergy). Some congregations may not be aware of the challenges and the lack of awareness could be the source of previous pastor-congregation discord. Awareness and action to address certain issues named in the book could produce a healthier relationship with the next pastor.
2. Pastoral transitions provide a great opportunity to evaluate congregational ministries. Howard Merritt astutely raises points around many contentious situations in the target congregational group:
- "The _____________ (fund-raiser, cultural event) supper [for Scandinavian Lutherans, insert lutefisk]."
- Committee service
- Leadership development
- Declining participation in a small group that appealed to people decades ago
- Demographic and sociological realities
- Generational divides
- Clergy critique
I have a hard time not liking this book. Having recently exited the sub-group of "young clergy," I share a great deal of solidarity with Carol Howard Merritt and the advocacy she offers for Gen X and Millennial generations, as well as the small to mid-sized mainline Protestant congregations. I've served a majority of my ordination working with congregations in that classification, and shared in her advocacy work. The book could easily be shared in a coffee house or a church basement over a series covered dish/potluck/hotdish supper (depending on your area of the country), or in a church board room. You don't have to agree with every issue Carol Howard Merritt raises, but she will introduce you to an important evaluation of your congregational culture and practices worthy of a personal and graceful discussion, especially if you notice that Gen X and Millennial generations are missing from your congregational life.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
What one congregation did for a child and family with an Autism Spectrum Disorder
How can a congregation minister to families affected by Autism Spectrum Disorders (ASD)?
By some counts 1 in 100 live births result in a child with an ASD. It is likely that some family or several have an ASD in their lives who are part of your congregation. I am not a social worker or an educator. I am a parent of a child with an ASD. We found a congregation that was gracious and helpful and willing to help us out. Each family with ASD will have different needs and experiences, but this story is shared so that your congregation my reflect on its current practices and see opportunities for sharing grace.
Last summer, my wife and I were in a precarious position. We had recently moved to the Seattle metro, and neither of us were serving in a congregation, yet we each had Sunday responsibilities. I had been preaching through pulpit supply, and my wife was preaching in the Southwestern Washington Synod in her new role, sometimes as far as 3 hours away. This was not an ideal situation for our daughter with an ASD. First sessions in any new program are challenging, but she integrates fairly quickly. We needed a place for her to go and continue in her Christian education outside the home in a community of faith, but our work was not conducive to her faith growth.
Our best prospect was a congregation near my parents' home, Messiah Lutheran Church in Auburn, WA. My parents care for our children on the weekends, and our daughter could attend Sunday School at Messiah. We met with the Christian Education Director (CED) on staff and told her about our daughter's needs and what could be helpful. The CED described the flow of Sunday School and matched our daughter with a leader who was comfortable working with special needs children. She wasn't sequestered in a class with all special needs children. At first, my father stayed close by during the Sunday school sessions. As our daughter became more comfortable with the surroundings and routine, she came to enjoy her time and Sunday School and was able to talk with us at home more each week about what she learned. Occasionally the leaders had concerns about behaviors, and we renegotiated a plan for her time at church.
During the Sunday School year, the CED facilitated a workshop for parents and her Sunday School teachers with a specialist in the field of working with ASD children. Unfortunately, my wife and I were not able to attend, but I heard that the mini-workshop was helpful--and it reflected Messiah Lutheran Church's desire to minister to ASD families and offer these children an opportunity to thrive in their faith growth through the intentional love and care of knowledgeable adults in the congregation.
Messiah Lutheran Church is one of the largest congregations in the SW Washington Synod and has many resources. Even though Messiah has a paid staff person to deal with different cases as with our family, any congregation can show love and care to families with ASD children. This kind of ministry doesn't have to be a big programmatic effort. Any size or resource congregation can do this ministry. It takes caring adults willing to learn about or share techniques, and parents who can be assertive about their child's needs. Our daughter had challenges at Sunday School last year, but with the ministry a shared responsibility, she was able to connect with God and others. That congregation was willing to meet us in our particular circumstance and give us some needed grace.
By some counts 1 in 100 live births result in a child with an ASD. It is likely that some family or several have an ASD in their lives who are part of your congregation. I am not a social worker or an educator. I am a parent of a child with an ASD. We found a congregation that was gracious and helpful and willing to help us out. Each family with ASD will have different needs and experiences, but this story is shared so that your congregation my reflect on its current practices and see opportunities for sharing grace.
Last summer, my wife and I were in a precarious position. We had recently moved to the Seattle metro, and neither of us were serving in a congregation, yet we each had Sunday responsibilities. I had been preaching through pulpit supply, and my wife was preaching in the Southwestern Washington Synod in her new role, sometimes as far as 3 hours away. This was not an ideal situation for our daughter with an ASD. First sessions in any new program are challenging, but she integrates fairly quickly. We needed a place for her to go and continue in her Christian education outside the home in a community of faith, but our work was not conducive to her faith growth.
Our best prospect was a congregation near my parents' home, Messiah Lutheran Church in Auburn, WA. My parents care for our children on the weekends, and our daughter could attend Sunday School at Messiah. We met with the Christian Education Director (CED) on staff and told her about our daughter's needs and what could be helpful. The CED described the flow of Sunday School and matched our daughter with a leader who was comfortable working with special needs children. She wasn't sequestered in a class with all special needs children. At first, my father stayed close by during the Sunday school sessions. As our daughter became more comfortable with the surroundings and routine, she came to enjoy her time and Sunday School and was able to talk with us at home more each week about what she learned. Occasionally the leaders had concerns about behaviors, and we renegotiated a plan for her time at church.
During the Sunday School year, the CED facilitated a workshop for parents and her Sunday School teachers with a specialist in the field of working with ASD children. Unfortunately, my wife and I were not able to attend, but I heard that the mini-workshop was helpful--and it reflected Messiah Lutheran Church's desire to minister to ASD families and offer these children an opportunity to thrive in their faith growth through the intentional love and care of knowledgeable adults in the congregation.
Messiah Lutheran Church is one of the largest congregations in the SW Washington Synod and has many resources. Even though Messiah has a paid staff person to deal with different cases as with our family, any congregation can show love and care to families with ASD children. This kind of ministry doesn't have to be a big programmatic effort. Any size or resource congregation can do this ministry. It takes caring adults willing to learn about or share techniques, and parents who can be assertive about their child's needs. Our daughter had challenges at Sunday School last year, but with the ministry a shared responsibility, she was able to connect with God and others. That congregation was willing to meet us in our particular circumstance and give us some needed grace.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Giving Credit Where Credit is Due to my ELCA Sisters and Brothers
Yesterday I highlighted some missed opportunities and future possibilities for my ELCA friends and colleagues regarding connections, learning and conferences. Today I learned via Twitter about an ELCA-sponsored conference: Follow Me: Sharing The Gospel in a 2.0 World. It's time to give credit where credit is due. I am thankful that my colleagues are using the resources available to them for evangelism and relationship building.
The promotional page for Follow Me is laid out well, offering opportunities to connect with Twitter hash tags, a Facebook event page and an invitation to blog. I think the event is worthy of its own Twitter account--and probably its own web page (linked to the ELCA site, but not necessarily embedded in its own brand). As of 1130am Pacific Time August 12, I read about 30 tweets from participants. I added each tweeter whom I was not already following to my own follow list and look forward to further connections, even though I am not attending the conference. I did not know about the conference until I saw the tweets this morning. Having a separate Twitter account for a conference creates expanded opportunities to attract participants--using those who are excited about the conference to expand publicity. What the Follow Me conference has offered is more of what I hoped for when I attended the Rethinking Stewardship Conference through Luther Seminary in July.
The conference target audience "communicators, campus ministry chaplains/staff, and college/university students" leaves me a little puzzled. I can understand the energy generated for those involved in campus ministry and young adults involved in higher education. "Communicators" is the hook that opens up the conference to many more than the other targets. "Communicators" is a continual growing identity edge for ELCA congregations. I'm not sure that congregations see themselves as shared communicators of the Gospel--they often look to the pastor for this communication. All congregations have a story to tell and now have many tools at their disposal to tell that story. My current congregation, First Lutheran Community Church in Port Orchard, WA, is learning that they have a story to tell, and how we can tell that using the tools available. The scope of public congregational presence is a flattening enterprise, and I see my current season of interim ministry at FLCC to help the congregation embrace that they all have a role in sharing the God's story through FLCC to the public and that they desire connection.
I find the Follow Me Conference hopeful--I wish I could be attending--and I'm glad I can connect with the material later. I wonder how the folks attending will connect with ELCA Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson. I wonder how expanding ministry tools will be embraced. I usually wonder what God is up to, and I am glad that the Spirit has expanded my wondering.
The promotional page for Follow Me is laid out well, offering opportunities to connect with Twitter hash tags, a Facebook event page and an invitation to blog. I think the event is worthy of its own Twitter account--and probably its own web page (linked to the ELCA site, but not necessarily embedded in its own brand). As of 1130am Pacific Time August 12, I read about 30 tweets from participants. I added each tweeter whom I was not already following to my own follow list and look forward to further connections, even though I am not attending the conference. I did not know about the conference until I saw the tweets this morning. Having a separate Twitter account for a conference creates expanded opportunities to attract participants--using those who are excited about the conference to expand publicity. What the Follow Me conference has offered is more of what I hoped for when I attended the Rethinking Stewardship Conference through Luther Seminary in July.
The conference target audience "communicators, campus ministry chaplains/staff, and college/university students" leaves me a little puzzled. I can understand the energy generated for those involved in campus ministry and young adults involved in higher education. "Communicators" is the hook that opens up the conference to many more than the other targets. "Communicators" is a continual growing identity edge for ELCA congregations. I'm not sure that congregations see themselves as shared communicators of the Gospel--they often look to the pastor for this communication. All congregations have a story to tell and now have many tools at their disposal to tell that story. My current congregation, First Lutheran Community Church in Port Orchard, WA, is learning that they have a story to tell, and how we can tell that using the tools available. The scope of public congregational presence is a flattening enterprise, and I see my current season of interim ministry at FLCC to help the congregation embrace that they all have a role in sharing the God's story through FLCC to the public and that they desire connection.
I find the Follow Me Conference hopeful--I wish I could be attending--and I'm glad I can connect with the material later. I wonder how the folks attending will connect with ELCA Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson. I wonder how expanding ministry tools will be embraced. I usually wonder what God is up to, and I am glad that the Spirit has expanded my wondering.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
The Parchment on Ye Olde Participante Liste Turns To Dust: On Twitter and Ministry Conferences
In the days of yore attending church conferences, one of the most curious handouts I received in a packet included a participant list.
The participant list provided copious amounts of contact information: name, home address, church address, home phone, work phone, cell phone, home email, work email, and website (whew!). I remember thinking the compilation of these lists represented good networking theory. I have a list of new colleagues, and possibly friends. If I had a question of praxis, boom! I could write, call, email and I had a colleague with a shared language. We drank deeply from the well of shared experience with hope of transformation, a quiver of learning arrows ready to target the ministry ogres that we had jousted before and lost.
Attending an average of 2-3 conferences a year for 12 years, I think I used all of those participant lists a mere handful of times. The well of shared experience ran dry and the arrows lost their sharpness. Ongoing opportunities for connection are easily parched and difficult to preserve. The conferences are still valuable. The content is usually good, and the people are bright, insightful and wise. The value of the material quickly diminishes without collegial connections. Ye Olde Participante Liste is no longer effective, and it may never have been effective in the first place.
For some people who work in ministry, newer means of connecting are not news. The innovators and early adapters have found new ways to connect, catapulting over Ye Olde Participante Liste and moving into Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter and other means of connecting and sharing valuable information. Since I've been on Twitter for about one year, I regularly find Evangelical and Presbyterian colleagues using Twitter to reinforce their learning at conferences through relationships and shared learning in the months and years ahead. These connections occur at far greater speed than a phone call, an email, or snail mail. The shift is not so much about speed/effieciency (yet still important), but something educators and learners have known for years: follow up and reinforcement is necessary in order for the content to have lasting effect. I see the ELCA is living in the land of Ye Olde Participante Liste. Every gathering I attended over the past year--the connections are taken for granted. If the connections are being made--I am missing them. I hope I'm missing something and my comment box will be flooded with ELCA colleagues who are connecting and provide the path where others are gathering.
Last month I attended a fabulous stewardship conference in Eden Prairie, MN, hosted by Luther Seminary and other sister organizations. I feverishly sought connection while there. The conversation at tables during the conference were lively and insightful. However, the opportunities to connect after the conference were non-existent. I posted about 25 tweets, fishing for a connection. The only connections I made (good ones) was with a few staff people at The Lutheran magazine, one who was covering the conference. That connection provided me the opportunity to debrief about the conference while attending and a week later with Lutheran magazine intern Erin Ash. I see possibilities. Far more in one conference than the 24-36 I attended in my first 12 years of ministry. I think the content is actually getting better in many ways, but that content is lost without follow up connections.
Some of God's people have taken the opportunity to gather at a new Rounde Table for God's mission in the world. I hope more of my colleagues in the ELCA can show me where that table is, or come join me at the tables where I gather.
The participant list provided copious amounts of contact information: name, home address, church address, home phone, work phone, cell phone, home email, work email, and website (whew!). I remember thinking the compilation of these lists represented good networking theory. I have a list of new colleagues, and possibly friends. If I had a question of praxis, boom! I could write, call, email and I had a colleague with a shared language. We drank deeply from the well of shared experience with hope of transformation, a quiver of learning arrows ready to target the ministry ogres that we had jousted before and lost.
Attending an average of 2-3 conferences a year for 12 years, I think I used all of those participant lists a mere handful of times. The well of shared experience ran dry and the arrows lost their sharpness. Ongoing opportunities for connection are easily parched and difficult to preserve. The conferences are still valuable. The content is usually good, and the people are bright, insightful and wise. The value of the material quickly diminishes without collegial connections. Ye Olde Participante Liste is no longer effective, and it may never have been effective in the first place.
For some people who work in ministry, newer means of connecting are not news. The innovators and early adapters have found new ways to connect, catapulting over Ye Olde Participante Liste and moving into Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter and other means of connecting and sharing valuable information. Since I've been on Twitter for about one year, I regularly find Evangelical and Presbyterian colleagues using Twitter to reinforce their learning at conferences through relationships and shared learning in the months and years ahead. These connections occur at far greater speed than a phone call, an email, or snail mail. The shift is not so much about speed/effieciency (yet still important), but something educators and learners have known for years: follow up and reinforcement is necessary in order for the content to have lasting effect. I see the ELCA is living in the land of Ye Olde Participante Liste. Every gathering I attended over the past year--the connections are taken for granted. If the connections are being made--I am missing them. I hope I'm missing something and my comment box will be flooded with ELCA colleagues who are connecting and provide the path where others are gathering.
Last month I attended a fabulous stewardship conference in Eden Prairie, MN, hosted by Luther Seminary and other sister organizations. I feverishly sought connection while there. The conversation at tables during the conference were lively and insightful. However, the opportunities to connect after the conference were non-existent. I posted about 25 tweets, fishing for a connection. The only connections I made (good ones) was with a few staff people at The Lutheran magazine, one who was covering the conference. That connection provided me the opportunity to debrief about the conference while attending and a week later with Lutheran magazine intern Erin Ash. I see possibilities. Far more in one conference than the 24-36 I attended in my first 12 years of ministry. I think the content is actually getting better in many ways, but that content is lost without follow up connections.
Some of God's people have taken the opportunity to gather at a new Rounde Table for God's mission in the world. I hope more of my colleagues in the ELCA can show me where that table is, or come join me at the tables where I gather.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Living with a GPS in a world of assumptions
I am directionally challenged. In days of old when I received directions from another human being, it didn't matter whether I received a series of landmarks, turns, or a series of distances and points on a compass. Sooner or later, confusion sets in. Maybe the wiring in my brain resists directions. Pulling over to a gas station to ask for directions was a different kind of ego bruise for me than for many men who are the subject of scorn for resisting directional help.
I do not understand the directions I am given. I'm not sure whether the disconnect involves the person giving the directions or my ability to hear the directions, or a combination thereof. I loathe frustrating others with my incompetence. Occasionally I ask for clarification of directions, but usually I give up, try to remember some of what I was told, and hope for the best.
GPS technology changed my outlook in finding my destination. Granted, a GPS presents its own set of problems. They are not perfect computer devices. But I am completely responsible for my lack of understanding. Shame and frustration need not be transferred to another person. I embrace the concept of interdependence, but with directions, no thank you.
I got lost this morning going to a park off the beaten path. My GPS failed to reveal the destination; it wanted to send me either 90 miles to the east, or in someone's yard. I drove around for about an hour. I laughed about my folly and shared the foolishness with others after I finally found the place. Every person with whom I shared the odyssey proceeded to give me directions to a place I had already been, and I still didn't understand. This is why I do not ask people for directions.
I am reminded of how communities are guided by assumptions. About 8 years ago, I made the rounds to several Confirmation receptions linked to a congregation I was serving. In these days before GPS, I had to rely on directions from people. In the early years of Mapquest, that site failed to help: the houses almost never had numbers, and many times there were no street signs. One could often write down the name of the person (even the nickname) and the town on an envelope, and that person would receive that mailing. While receiving directions to get to the receptions, someone told me to "head north on the oil road and turn east at the house that used to be blue." It took me a few months to figure out what an oil road was, but the prospect of figuring out what house used to be blue was more than I could take.
Much of congregational life is governed by cultural idiosyncrasies and a set of local assumptions. These marks of uniqueness aren't necessarily bad, but they often have no theological underpinnings and can often create separation that is not intended, yet still present. Even in a GPS world and with people like me (are there?) who don't always understand direction, a little direction is needed, along with copious amounts of hospitality. I believe it's almost impossible to give either direction or gracious hospitality unless we are aware of our assumptions. What are your congregational assumptions? Are assumptions confused with theological truth? How can congregational assumptions be addressed in order to connect with our neighbors and people whom we encounter along the way? Jesus alerts his followers to consider the neighbor.
I do not understand the directions I am given. I'm not sure whether the disconnect involves the person giving the directions or my ability to hear the directions, or a combination thereof. I loathe frustrating others with my incompetence. Occasionally I ask for clarification of directions, but usually I give up, try to remember some of what I was told, and hope for the best.
GPS technology changed my outlook in finding my destination. Granted, a GPS presents its own set of problems. They are not perfect computer devices. But I am completely responsible for my lack of understanding. Shame and frustration need not be transferred to another person. I embrace the concept of interdependence, but with directions, no thank you.
I got lost this morning going to a park off the beaten path. My GPS failed to reveal the destination; it wanted to send me either 90 miles to the east, or in someone's yard. I drove around for about an hour. I laughed about my folly and shared the foolishness with others after I finally found the place. Every person with whom I shared the odyssey proceeded to give me directions to a place I had already been, and I still didn't understand. This is why I do not ask people for directions.
I am reminded of how communities are guided by assumptions. About 8 years ago, I made the rounds to several Confirmation receptions linked to a congregation I was serving. In these days before GPS, I had to rely on directions from people. In the early years of Mapquest, that site failed to help: the houses almost never had numbers, and many times there were no street signs. One could often write down the name of the person (even the nickname) and the town on an envelope, and that person would receive that mailing. While receiving directions to get to the receptions, someone told me to "head north on the oil road and turn east at the house that used to be blue." It took me a few months to figure out what an oil road was, but the prospect of figuring out what house used to be blue was more than I could take.
Much of congregational life is governed by cultural idiosyncrasies and a set of local assumptions. These marks of uniqueness aren't necessarily bad, but they often have no theological underpinnings and can often create separation that is not intended, yet still present. Even in a GPS world and with people like me (are there?) who don't always understand direction, a little direction is needed, along with copious amounts of hospitality. I believe it's almost impossible to give either direction or gracious hospitality unless we are aware of our assumptions. What are your congregational assumptions? Are assumptions confused with theological truth? How can congregational assumptions be addressed in order to connect with our neighbors and people whom we encounter along the way? Jesus alerts his followers to consider the neighbor.
Monday, August 2, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, May 17, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Confessions of a Recovering Visionaholic
My name is Joe. I love visionary thinking. I'm a recovering visionaholic.
Just because I love and admire visionary thinking does not make me a visionary. Occasionally I am moved to an innovative idea or thought. Often I am inspired to respond to a provocation of the Holy Spirit and imagine a project that brings connections to God and people. These ideas stretch me and the congregations I serve. I've never been a part of a congregation long enough to experience a vision producing benefits first hand. Sometimes I read or hear a story about a congregation I served make a great leap toward reaching a vision; I smile and give thanks that I helped build something visionary.
My working definition of vision for years: a Holy Spirit idea that stretches my capabilities and the congregation I serve. In the first congregation I served, Our Savior's Evangelical Lutheran Church--Hartland, WI, I was full of ideas and experiences from seminary. I worked toward a partnership vision for the congregation--I used the King James Version of Proverbs 29:18, "Where there is no vision, the people perish," as a guiding Bible verse for the congregation to imagine grand possibilities in serving God and neighbor. I think this understanding and usage of vision is good and faithful. I think a key part of congregational mission is reliance on God and corresponding grand thinking, followed with action and discernment related to vision. I made a mistake in using Proverbs 29:18--I ignored the context, ignored the Hebrew, ignored the other translations. I was too busy convincing the congregation about the goodness of visionary thinking (forgot some of those good principles of my seminary education) beyond having a nice, new building.
I delved into reading on congregational vision and mission. I attended conferences and workshops addressing vision and change. I wanted to develop a vision statement to accompany their mission statement. I remember workshops at Prince of Peace Lutheran Church in Burnsville, MN and their vision statement (which has evolved a little checking the above link "10,000 passionate Christians in every generation." POP showed me the only congregational vision that has inspired me in 16 years of seminary and ministry. That's not to say that congregations fail in ministry, but the ministry gets cut short without a compelling vision. At a Prince of Peace workshop I learned that a vision is a compelling idea so big and grand that only God can help you get there. I believe congregations are inhibited by small thinking and fixed on what they can sensibly accomplish: budgets, keeping the lights on, having a pastor to serve as a chaplain for the members, occasionally serving food to the hungry, etc.
For over 9 years I served in transition congregations with varying thinking scopes, and varying degrees of ministry effectiveness--though none with a compelling vision that stretched the congregation to imagine what was possible with God. Though I witnessed good ministry over the years, every mission seemed sensible and well within the realm of the congregation's skills. I was sucked into small thinking to a degree in the past decade. Vision developed into a buzz word over the years, losing its meaning for congregations. In this trajectory, vision looks like white flour--something good milled into something filling, yet bland, with little nutritional value.
Sunday, April 25th at First Lutheran Community Church revealed their passion about visionary thinking. Pastor Allen Cudahy was a visionary leader at FLCC for 20 years--partnering with forward thinking leaders and turning around and growing a Mainline Protestant/Lutheran congregation in the Pacific Northwest. Visionary thinking is embedded in the congregational culture. The people of FLCC speak some of the language of vision, but they've equated it today with the dream of a community center in Port Orchard. I think a community center represents visionary thinking. It inspired passion yesterday in a public discussion about the dream's future. People don't want to lose that visionary thought--they've had a taste of visionary thinking and action, and they don't want to let it go. I do not blame them. The dream of the community center is no longer visionary, because the congregation has not taken discernible action on this project for a few years. A vision compels people to act beyond what they deem sensible.
In short, vision does not equal a community center (or fill in whatever project your congregation is in process). Vision is a word that is thrown around in hopeful congregations all over North America. I mistakenly attached myself to the feeling of vision rather than the guidance of God. It's time for me to stop being a visionaholic and connecting myself with more sound reflection, prayer and discernment about vision. Vision is more than a good feeling. The good feeling is a by product of God's gracious provision. More learning and some sermons on the topic are forthcoming.
Just because I love and admire visionary thinking does not make me a visionary. Occasionally I am moved to an innovative idea or thought. Often I am inspired to respond to a provocation of the Holy Spirit and imagine a project that brings connections to God and people. These ideas stretch me and the congregations I serve. I've never been a part of a congregation long enough to experience a vision producing benefits first hand. Sometimes I read or hear a story about a congregation I served make a great leap toward reaching a vision; I smile and give thanks that I helped build something visionary.
My working definition of vision for years: a Holy Spirit idea that stretches my capabilities and the congregation I serve. In the first congregation I served, Our Savior's Evangelical Lutheran Church--Hartland, WI, I was full of ideas and experiences from seminary. I worked toward a partnership vision for the congregation--I used the King James Version of Proverbs 29:18, "Where there is no vision, the people perish," as a guiding Bible verse for the congregation to imagine grand possibilities in serving God and neighbor. I think this understanding and usage of vision is good and faithful. I think a key part of congregational mission is reliance on God and corresponding grand thinking, followed with action and discernment related to vision. I made a mistake in using Proverbs 29:18--I ignored the context, ignored the Hebrew, ignored the other translations. I was too busy convincing the congregation about the goodness of visionary thinking (forgot some of those good principles of my seminary education) beyond having a nice, new building.
I delved into reading on congregational vision and mission. I attended conferences and workshops addressing vision and change. I wanted to develop a vision statement to accompany their mission statement. I remember workshops at Prince of Peace Lutheran Church in Burnsville, MN and their vision statement (which has evolved a little checking the above link "10,000 passionate Christians in every generation." POP showed me the only congregational vision that has inspired me in 16 years of seminary and ministry. That's not to say that congregations fail in ministry, but the ministry gets cut short without a compelling vision. At a Prince of Peace workshop I learned that a vision is a compelling idea so big and grand that only God can help you get there. I believe congregations are inhibited by small thinking and fixed on what they can sensibly accomplish: budgets, keeping the lights on, having a pastor to serve as a chaplain for the members, occasionally serving food to the hungry, etc.
For over 9 years I served in transition congregations with varying thinking scopes, and varying degrees of ministry effectiveness--though none with a compelling vision that stretched the congregation to imagine what was possible with God. Though I witnessed good ministry over the years, every mission seemed sensible and well within the realm of the congregation's skills. I was sucked into small thinking to a degree in the past decade. Vision developed into a buzz word over the years, losing its meaning for congregations. In this trajectory, vision looks like white flour--something good milled into something filling, yet bland, with little nutritional value.
Sunday, April 25th at First Lutheran Community Church revealed their passion about visionary thinking. Pastor Allen Cudahy was a visionary leader at FLCC for 20 years--partnering with forward thinking leaders and turning around and growing a Mainline Protestant/Lutheran congregation in the Pacific Northwest. Visionary thinking is embedded in the congregational culture. The people of FLCC speak some of the language of vision, but they've equated it today with the dream of a community center in Port Orchard. I think a community center represents visionary thinking. It inspired passion yesterday in a public discussion about the dream's future. People don't want to lose that visionary thought--they've had a taste of visionary thinking and action, and they don't want to let it go. I do not blame them. The dream of the community center is no longer visionary, because the congregation has not taken discernible action on this project for a few years. A vision compels people to act beyond what they deem sensible.
In short, vision does not equal a community center (or fill in whatever project your congregation is in process). Vision is a word that is thrown around in hopeful congregations all over North America. I mistakenly attached myself to the feeling of vision rather than the guidance of God. It's time for me to stop being a visionaholic and connecting myself with more sound reflection, prayer and discernment about vision. Vision is more than a good feeling. The good feeling is a by product of God's gracious provision. More learning and some sermons on the topic are forthcoming.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Congregational Bromides: "We are a warm and friendly church"
Congregations reveal several patterns in displaying self-image. These patterns appear on websites, promotional literature, judicatory documents, and in general descriptions related to public discourse from members of the congregation. I often see these patterns in what the ELCA calls its "Ministry Site Profile," a 14-page document designed for congregational reflection, focus and articulation of mission, ministry, demographics and congregational culture and specific needs for pastoral leadership (among other attributes). These documents are shared as hard copies or electronically with pastors discerning a call. It is a significant part of my work in interim ministry to facilitate discussion, research and composition to complete this document. Though I see less of these documents than judicatory officials, I see many of them as a candidate to serve a congregation and the process in completing them.
Congregations generally struggle to reflect on assumptions about their community of faith. Add a group of leaders passionate about that community to a reflection and articulation process, and anxiety and passion escalate. I believe healthy congregations are able to reflect upon their assumptions, sometimes challenge them, and interface their assumptions related to executing a faithful mission and ministry. Over the years of reading Ministry Site Profiles and other pieces produced by congregations, I compiled a list of congregational bromides. "Congregational bromides" are frequently repeated statements related to self-image that are strongly held beliefs among members and displayed as truth. Yet congregations struggle to substantiate their church culture truth claims.
The first congregational bromide for reflection: "we are a warm and friendly church."
Some basic reflection questions:
+Would a congregation dare say it wasn't warm and friendly?
+What are the standards for warmth and friendliness?
+Can warmth and friendliness standards differ from congregation to congregation?
+Is a warm and friendly congregation a human concept or something connected to biblical theology?
+What is the purpose behind being a warm and friendly church? Can these purposes differ?
"Congregations believe they are friendly, because congregational members are friendly with each other." Though I've heard this statement from many different sources, the first source for me was Patrick Keifert from Luther Seminary. That point resonated with me because until that point I heard conversations in some congregations with statements like, "I can't believe this congregation isn't growing. If only people could see how friendly we are!"
For years I have seen congregations are friendly with each other, yet guests/visitors can walk in an attempt to participate almost unnoticed. These kinds of experiences are well documented. The unofficial congregational goal ends up being individuals in the congregation seek to have a warm and friendly feeling when they come to church, and thus the goal and ideal is to become a warm and friendly church--to build a circle of intimacy above all else. Keifert challenges the notion of intimacy and the church as a "family" in his book Welcoming the Stranger. Thomas Long for the Alban Institute gathers Keifert's and other works together in his short piece entitled Hospitality to the Stranger. Each of these works reveals some of the tensions between a desire for people to have intimacy, yet a calling to serve as a public worshiping community.
Some congregations are better than others living and serving as a public worshiping community. Whether a congregation is "warm and friendly" is actually of little value to me as I work with congregations in transition--especially when almost every congregation sees themselves that way. However, if a congregation is going to make "warm and friendly" a public claim, I will challenge them to substantiate that claim.
Congregations generally struggle to reflect on assumptions about their community of faith. Add a group of leaders passionate about that community to a reflection and articulation process, and anxiety and passion escalate. I believe healthy congregations are able to reflect upon their assumptions, sometimes challenge them, and interface their assumptions related to executing a faithful mission and ministry. Over the years of reading Ministry Site Profiles and other pieces produced by congregations, I compiled a list of congregational bromides. "Congregational bromides" are frequently repeated statements related to self-image that are strongly held beliefs among members and displayed as truth. Yet congregations struggle to substantiate their church culture truth claims.
The first congregational bromide for reflection: "we are a warm and friendly church."
Some basic reflection questions:
+Would a congregation dare say it wasn't warm and friendly?
+What are the standards for warmth and friendliness?
+Can warmth and friendliness standards differ from congregation to congregation?
+Is a warm and friendly congregation a human concept or something connected to biblical theology?
+What is the purpose behind being a warm and friendly church? Can these purposes differ?
"Congregations believe they are friendly, because congregational members are friendly with each other." Though I've heard this statement from many different sources, the first source for me was Patrick Keifert from Luther Seminary. That point resonated with me because until that point I heard conversations in some congregations with statements like, "I can't believe this congregation isn't growing. If only people could see how friendly we are!"
For years I have seen congregations are friendly with each other, yet guests/visitors can walk in an attempt to participate almost unnoticed. These kinds of experiences are well documented. The unofficial congregational goal ends up being individuals in the congregation seek to have a warm and friendly feeling when they come to church, and thus the goal and ideal is to become a warm and friendly church--to build a circle of intimacy above all else. Keifert challenges the notion of intimacy and the church as a "family" in his book Welcoming the Stranger. Thomas Long for the Alban Institute gathers Keifert's and other works together in his short piece entitled Hospitality to the Stranger. Each of these works reveals some of the tensions between a desire for people to have intimacy, yet a calling to serve as a public worshiping community.
Some congregations are better than others living and serving as a public worshiping community. Whether a congregation is "warm and friendly" is actually of little value to me as I work with congregations in transition--especially when almost every congregation sees themselves that way. However, if a congregation is going to make "warm and friendly" a public claim, I will challenge them to substantiate that claim.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
The Life of the "First Advantage"
I knew a man at a congregation I served years ago (I’ll call him John). John is insightful, pragmatic and creative—a great leadership resource. Incredibly busy, John runs a public relations/advertising company. He is also interested in the life of his congregation. He removed himself from church leadership because he attended too many committee meetings that were long on talk, but short on action. John wanted his work and gifts to mean something in the life of a congregation and community. He found his time, energy and gift investment was better placed elsewhere. At first, I lamented John’s absence. However, other service opportunities offered a better return on investment. I couldn’t argue with his disengagement from congregational leadership.
My first encounter with First Lutheran Community Church and its organizational structure was intriguing to a geek like me. I like sociology and organizational development. I spent my first 11 years of ministry trying to make broken systems better, mostly because I enjoyed thinking about the structure itself. However, the return on time and energy invested was minimal.
My current commute tests my patience. Although I will make two round trips (some days 3) between Federal Way and Port Orchard (about 80 miles), I have new hope for ministry. A few years ago I completely lost my patience for ineffective church committee meetings. I see FLCC and its lack of standing committees as a breath of fresh air. My leadership to different groups of the church seems to matter at FLCC—and most ministries are able to thrive without my presence at meetings. I have good return on my time, energy and gift investment in FLCC--because I know that people’s lives are affected positively in the name of Christ.
The point is that the people of Port Orchard need to know the advantages of this community of faith. What are the advantages of being a part of FLCC? What is the First Advantage? Anyone can come to worship and learn about the presence of God in daily life through the Bible, music and prayer. Wisdom for living is found. Healing is possible for brokenness in relationships with God and others. A call is issued to serve our neighbors in need. FLCC is a place where anyone can become neighbors. There is an opportunity to live this life in Jesus Christ every day of the week. The congregation may not suit everyone’s preferences, but anyone can receive a good return on their investment. Not only does FLCC open its doors, but you are continually learning to proactively invite your neighbors outside of your doors. To what kind of community are you inviting potential neighbors? Thank you for sharing that First Advantage with me. I pray for your continuing work in engaging your neighbors-to-be.
My first encounter with First Lutheran Community Church and its organizational structure was intriguing to a geek like me. I like sociology and organizational development. I spent my first 11 years of ministry trying to make broken systems better, mostly because I enjoyed thinking about the structure itself. However, the return on time and energy invested was minimal.
My current commute tests my patience. Although I will make two round trips (some days 3) between Federal Way and Port Orchard (about 80 miles), I have new hope for ministry. A few years ago I completely lost my patience for ineffective church committee meetings. I see FLCC and its lack of standing committees as a breath of fresh air. My leadership to different groups of the church seems to matter at FLCC—and most ministries are able to thrive without my presence at meetings. I have good return on my time, energy and gift investment in FLCC--because I know that people’s lives are affected positively in the name of Christ.
The point is that the people of Port Orchard need to know the advantages of this community of faith. What are the advantages of being a part of FLCC? What is the First Advantage? Anyone can come to worship and learn about the presence of God in daily life through the Bible, music and prayer. Wisdom for living is found. Healing is possible for brokenness in relationships with God and others. A call is issued to serve our neighbors in need. FLCC is a place where anyone can become neighbors. There is an opportunity to live this life in Jesus Christ every day of the week. The congregation may not suit everyone’s preferences, but anyone can receive a good return on their investment. Not only does FLCC open its doors, but you are continually learning to proactively invite your neighbors outside of your doors. To what kind of community are you inviting potential neighbors? Thank you for sharing that First Advantage with me. I pray for your continuing work in engaging your neighbors-to-be.
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