People crave certainty.
From politicians (flip-floppers are despised), to weather forecasters, to pastors, a certain section of the public demands certainty and becomes apoplectic when the certainty beast isn't fed.
I'm not in the certainty business.
I don't care if a politician is a flip-flopper. If a political leader needs to change their position based on an honest gathering of information, I appreciate that the leader is using their brain and a level of discernment (flip-flopping for pure political expediency is another story).
University of Washington atmospheric science professor Cliff Mass shares that if a forecast needs to change, then change it based on the information in front of you, and forget the earlier forecast. Mass took a lot of heat for changing his forecast, but he had to. The information changed.
The fearful thing with the role of politician and weather forecaster is that while the public demands certainty, fulfilling the leadership calling recognizes that feeding the certainty beast is not necessarily faithful. At least, this is how I see it as a pastor.
Some might argue that most of all, a pastor is in the certainty business. If a pastor is not the bearer of certainty about God and Christ, then what's the point? I can't speak for others who share my profession, but I believe that God gives followers power to share their witness of God's activity in the world (see Acts 1: 6-11) and that the cross of Christ is more about the faithfulness of God than the certainty of God. If I put my effort into being certain in relation to my neighbor, I lose opportunities to remain connected to my neighbor.
Being connected to my neighbor communicates the faithfulness of God more than certainty. The certainty beast does not have to be fed, though it will continue to growl.
Showing posts with label Bible. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bible. Show all posts
Monday, January 23, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Is Redemption For Church Boards Possible?
When I work with leadership groups in congregations, I am often in awe of their individual stories. I learn about all kinds of vocation. Mothers with an artistic flair, health care workers who help cure disease and play saxophone, soldiers who give their passion and leadership in between deployments, dead-eye shot farmers, trucker theologians, ice-water veined CEOs, insightful entrepreneurs. God gives them the gifts to do these amazing things. They love God. They love their church. They do whatever they can to help the church to do good ministry.
At least 90% of them cannot state why they are serving in their particular position in church.
It's hard for me to imagine how such talented people with such a strong sense of purpose in other areas of their lives settle for such meandering when it comes to the direction of the church.
Maybe it's because making a decision cuts off other possibilities, possibilities that may hurt another human being, and that's not Christian. Maybe.
Congregations often can't decide what their board should be--a representative group or a leadership group. For the life of me, I can't figure out a good reason why a church board needs more people present (this doesn't mean I am against public meetings, only meetings where so many are required to attend). As if more people in the bureaucracy means more frequent and faithful ministry. I believe a church board is best served with five people (seven at the most), with energy directed toward being transparent about ideas and decisions, rather than creating more structure. Yet, time after time, I find boards with 13, 15, 17, 20+ people on them (probably related to a representation understanding). The meetings are frequent, long and arduous. People serve them out of a sense of duty (which is not a bad thing), but it is misplaced energy. People are busy. Regular, frequent meetings might have been a way to bring people together in the past, but that train already departed. If the goal is fellowship and contact, don't facilitate the gathering under the guise of a business meeting, go for fellowship.
I remember in my early years of ministry, there was a movement to make church boards into small spiritual communities. In some ways, that trend was like putting pearls on a pig. The idea did not address the underlying problem. The structure of the church was not serving joyful ministry. The members ended up serving the structure of the church. Joy departed. Fatigue and discouragement spread. I remember an alert about the pitfalls of building up church boards as opposed to congregational ministry and discipleship, which began my search to convert the countless hours I spent attending time wasting meetings and missing opportunities to spend evening time with my family.
Jesus once said that Sabbath was made for humankind, not the other way around (Mark 2: 23-28). Congregations place too much energy in serving their structures. Serving structures makes the congregation more susceptible to power plays. Congregations may find more joy if they find their joy in ministry as opposed to bureaucratic wrangling. Once congregations can claim where they find joy in ministry, then they can determine what kind of structure their congregation needs.
I find new light when I find a congregation with the courage to find their joy in serving God and release themselves from serving a structure. Jesus did not say that Sabbath was bad, and that is was good when it served abundant life, rather than as a weapon for the powerful. Structure for a church is not bad, but it easily become an idol, and a despised one at that.
What do you see in your congregational boards?
At least 90% of them cannot state why they are serving in their particular position in church.
It's hard for me to imagine how such talented people with such a strong sense of purpose in other areas of their lives settle for such meandering when it comes to the direction of the church.
Maybe it's because making a decision cuts off other possibilities, possibilities that may hurt another human being, and that's not Christian. Maybe.
Congregations often can't decide what their board should be--a representative group or a leadership group. For the life of me, I can't figure out a good reason why a church board needs more people present (this doesn't mean I am against public meetings, only meetings where so many are required to attend). As if more people in the bureaucracy means more frequent and faithful ministry. I believe a church board is best served with five people (seven at the most), with energy directed toward being transparent about ideas and decisions, rather than creating more structure. Yet, time after time, I find boards with 13, 15, 17, 20+ people on them (probably related to a representation understanding). The meetings are frequent, long and arduous. People serve them out of a sense of duty (which is not a bad thing), but it is misplaced energy. People are busy. Regular, frequent meetings might have been a way to bring people together in the past, but that train already departed. If the goal is fellowship and contact, don't facilitate the gathering under the guise of a business meeting, go for fellowship.
I remember in my early years of ministry, there was a movement to make church boards into small spiritual communities. In some ways, that trend was like putting pearls on a pig. The idea did not address the underlying problem. The structure of the church was not serving joyful ministry. The members ended up serving the structure of the church. Joy departed. Fatigue and discouragement spread. I remember an alert about the pitfalls of building up church boards as opposed to congregational ministry and discipleship, which began my search to convert the countless hours I spent attending time wasting meetings and missing opportunities to spend evening time with my family.
Jesus once said that Sabbath was made for humankind, not the other way around (Mark 2: 23-28). Congregations place too much energy in serving their structures. Serving structures makes the congregation more susceptible to power plays. Congregations may find more joy if they find their joy in ministry as opposed to bureaucratic wrangling. Once congregations can claim where they find joy in ministry, then they can determine what kind of structure their congregation needs.
I find new light when I find a congregation with the courage to find their joy in serving God and release themselves from serving a structure. Jesus did not say that Sabbath was bad, and that is was good when it served abundant life, rather than as a weapon for the powerful. Structure for a church is not bad, but it easily become an idol, and a despised one at that.
What do you see in your congregational boards?
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Sermon Audio: What do I expect from love? (Leviticus 19:1-18)
When love is expounded upon in Matthew 22 and Leviticus 19, the expectation of love is not related to how I feel, but by who God is. Therefore love that is referenced here is not rooted in a particular emotion, but a by recognition of God's action. How that relates to our neighbor love is a reflection of God's action in the world. A principle part of God's creation is humankind created in God's image. That is the challenge of love, when I expect emotion, God expects that we act toward our neighbor with the understanding that the other person is created in God's image.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Staring off into the clouds (of witnesses)
Today I've been working with theory and practice related to sociology of religion. I love this stuff. Almost can't get enough of it. Especially when something happens in the daily activity of ministry, and I visualize a constructing bridge cantilevering over the chasm between academia and ministry. Three hours of thinking, posting, praying, reading. It felt like 15 minutes. I was in a zone, in a place for me where I know the Holy Spirit resides. It doesn't get much better than that for me.
Today was also the day my oldest daughter had her first day of school. I remember watching The Cosby Show as a kid and the celebration Cliff and Claire Huxtable used to have on the first day of school. I was feeling that. I love my daughter, and I will miss her while she is at school in a matter of days. A little lost in the shuffle is my 4 year old, who doesn't start preschool until next week. She kept coming in to talk to me (as she is prone to do) while I was giddy with idea flow, and I was too dismissive of her conversation. I looked to the heavens for a little insight, and I remembered a teacher of mine who spoke to me from the cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1).
The cloud of witnesses are supposed to be the heroes of the faith. This was not my favorite teacher, one that often perturbed me. However, I remembered some wise words I received about how he was once taught that church life and pursuits always came first in ministry, and following that was the most significant regret in a life of ministry. The cloud of witnesses and the Holy Spirit directed me to get on my knees, look my daughter in the eye and say "Let's play a game. How about Candy Land?" I was moved to think about how she moved into the cloud of witnesses. That cloud allowed me to be thankful for the joy in the presence of God, joy in the flow of ideas, and joy in the simple connection of the moment. All in the midst of things that could have just as easily annoyed me. Thanks be to God.
Today was also the day my oldest daughter had her first day of school. I remember watching The Cosby Show as a kid and the celebration Cliff and Claire Huxtable used to have on the first day of school. I was feeling that. I love my daughter, and I will miss her while she is at school in a matter of days. A little lost in the shuffle is my 4 year old, who doesn't start preschool until next week. She kept coming in to talk to me (as she is prone to do) while I was giddy with idea flow, and I was too dismissive of her conversation. I looked to the heavens for a little insight, and I remembered a teacher of mine who spoke to me from the cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1).
The cloud of witnesses are supposed to be the heroes of the faith. This was not my favorite teacher, one that often perturbed me. However, I remembered some wise words I received about how he was once taught that church life and pursuits always came first in ministry, and following that was the most significant regret in a life of ministry. The cloud of witnesses and the Holy Spirit directed me to get on my knees, look my daughter in the eye and say "Let's play a game. How about Candy Land?" I was moved to think about how she moved into the cloud of witnesses. That cloud allowed me to be thankful for the joy in the presence of God, joy in the flow of ideas, and joy in the simple connection of the moment. All in the midst of things that could have just as easily annoyed me. Thanks be to God.
Monday, August 29, 2011
"You know you've arrived when..."
Sermon based on Matthew 16: 13-20 for August 28, 2011
Measuring success is challenging for congregations. On the one hand, models of success in our lives sometimes run in opposition to what we see in the life of Jesus and his teaching. A follower of Jesus named Peter once looked like he had his act together in understanding Jesus, but finds out there's a lot more to learn. Peter finds out that his understanding of Jesus' identity didn't match with where Jesus was going with his life--maybe Peter hadn't "arrived" after all.
Measuring success is challenging for congregations. On the one hand, models of success in our lives sometimes run in opposition to what we see in the life of Jesus and his teaching. A follower of Jesus named Peter once looked like he had his act together in understanding Jesus, but finds out there's a lot more to learn. Peter finds out that his understanding of Jesus' identity didn't match with where Jesus was going with his life--maybe Peter hadn't "arrived" after all.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Baseball, Church, and Writing
Just because I haven't posted writing on the blog recently does not mean I haven't been writing. I've been writing a lot lately. An opportunity arose to audition for one of my favorite baseball blogs, thinking I could make the leap from mostly church stuff to baseball. Waiting patiently for future vocational turns is not my strong suit. The time may come to share some of my baseball writing on this blog, but I'm not sure about the direction this writing is taking. Your average pastor will never become a baseball blog, but I am curious about what I have learned in my processes in writing about baseball and church.
The writing process in baseball is surprisingly similar to writing about church--preaching, congregational development, and biblical scholarship. Over the past decade, baseball has gradually developed new methods of research to understand truths about baseball. For about 100 years, baseball used very specific methods for understanding the game that did not change much. As baseball revenues and salaries have reached new heights and computer/electronic analysis moved into the game some questioned the assumptions and validity of older methods. Those who held control over the older methods of baseball knowledge struggled and still struggle (to the point of hatred and vitriol) with the new methods.
For some, the new methods of baseball analysis come with great ease, especially those who work well with statistical analysis. Information about baseball is not dependent on newspaper beat writers with large travel budgets or national commentators, or even sports networks like ESPN. Anyone with internet access and a desire to execute extensive research can make compelling arguments about many facets of the game, and I find their arguments quite persuasive. The validity of any measurement, whether qualitative or quantitative should be a priority. Are we actually evaluating what we say we're evaluating?
Sound familiar?
The church, biblical scholarship and preaching have changed because of access to information. Some people whose livelihoods or power status were based on older knowledge methods have challenged newer methods of research and analysis. Seminaries have had to change their methods some (though not all too quickly) and ordination tracks and sacramental access has shifted (though not too quickly). The common thread in developing new hierarchies and authority matrices is that control over information is crumbling (or has crumbled). It affects both the baseball world and the world of the church. Luther and his followers, colleagues and adversaries saw it with the dawn of the printing press. The authority structures are crumbling again. Feel free to deny it, or even decry it--I'm not sure it will do you any good.
What I have learned is that for all the doctrinal purists in both baseball and the church, they are still about relationships. Though it will always help to keep certain skill sets up to date and develop new knowledge bases, the world needs people who can navigate these changing times by managing their own anxiety and stay connected to people of different viewpoints. I haven't even touched on politics--and I think this is a primary issue in the current American political climate.
The fun part for me is that the opportunity to write about these topics and stay connected with you does not flow through a publication like The Christian Century, a local or national newspaper, or even a book that I write. I can connect with you--now. I am gladdened by our shared creative energy. I think that is God at work in the Spirit.
The writing process in baseball is surprisingly similar to writing about church--preaching, congregational development, and biblical scholarship. Over the past decade, baseball has gradually developed new methods of research to understand truths about baseball. For about 100 years, baseball used very specific methods for understanding the game that did not change much. As baseball revenues and salaries have reached new heights and computer/electronic analysis moved into the game some questioned the assumptions and validity of older methods. Those who held control over the older methods of baseball knowledge struggled and still struggle (to the point of hatred and vitriol) with the new methods.
For some, the new methods of baseball analysis come with great ease, especially those who work well with statistical analysis. Information about baseball is not dependent on newspaper beat writers with large travel budgets or national commentators, or even sports networks like ESPN. Anyone with internet access and a desire to execute extensive research can make compelling arguments about many facets of the game, and I find their arguments quite persuasive. The validity of any measurement, whether qualitative or quantitative should be a priority. Are we actually evaluating what we say we're evaluating?
Sound familiar?
The church, biblical scholarship and preaching have changed because of access to information. Some people whose livelihoods or power status were based on older knowledge methods have challenged newer methods of research and analysis. Seminaries have had to change their methods some (though not all too quickly) and ordination tracks and sacramental access has shifted (though not too quickly). The common thread in developing new hierarchies and authority matrices is that control over information is crumbling (or has crumbled). It affects both the baseball world and the world of the church. Luther and his followers, colleagues and adversaries saw it with the dawn of the printing press. The authority structures are crumbling again. Feel free to deny it, or even decry it--I'm not sure it will do you any good.
What I have learned is that for all the doctrinal purists in both baseball and the church, they are still about relationships. Though it will always help to keep certain skill sets up to date and develop new knowledge bases, the world needs people who can navigate these changing times by managing their own anxiety and stay connected to people of different viewpoints. I haven't even touched on politics--and I think this is a primary issue in the current American political climate.
The fun part for me is that the opportunity to write about these topics and stay connected with you does not flow through a publication like The Christian Century, a local or national newspaper, or even a book that I write. I can connect with you--now. I am gladdened by our shared creative energy. I think that is God at work in the Spirit.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Underrated in Congregational Life: Language Learning
Though I deeply appreciate the theological writings and ideas of Martin Luther, one of the things that inspires me most about a connection to the legacy of Luther is translation of the biblical witness into the language of the people. Sometimes I imagine the work of Bible translators, awestruck. I am thankful for Luther's pioneering translation work.
I love languages of all kinds. I enjoy Danish and French. I made an academic college try at Russian. I am attempting to learn Korean. I am intrigued by professional and social group lingo. I admire the dexterity in how the English language evolves. I don't like to feel foolish while I'm learning these manners of speaking, so sometimes I avoid them. It's not that I don't have the ability to learn the language, but the fear throws up road blocks. The challenge of connecting with my family and friends is stark enough; throw in the cultural differences, and I am tempted to say "why bother?" So I often give up.
Language is dynamic. We learn language often out of love for the other. Grandparents learn to use Facebook because they want to communicate with their grandchildren. An entrepreneur learns programming code because of their love for conveying a message. An adoptive parent learns Mandarin so they can know the more deeply the culture of origin of their daughter.
Here's why I think language learning is underrated in congregational life. Though we often engage in a world of dynamic language change, for some reason in congregational life, learning a new language is viewed with suspicion, or outright disdain. I think part of this is the fear and foolish factor, which I believe is modified by the deep emotional attachment to faith and congregational life. It hurts more to look foolish in matters of faith. It hurts more to look foolish in a place where we have so many and emotions and time invested in the milestones of life.
Another factor in language learning involves the theological and cultural roots of our understanding of God and change.
1. There is a very strong theological and cultural understanding that God does not change, therefore change in congregational language is considered suspect.
2. At attempt to keep language the same in congregational life may also reflect a fortress mentality. In the above link, I reference Pat Keifert, a theologian who has taught about how congregations are resistant to language change (and change in general) because the church was a "change-free zone" in the midst of a world full of change.
The variables in language learning accelerate rapidly in the Information Age, and many church leaders have rightly asked the question of stewardship of abundant information and how to prioritize usage. This burgeoning reality adds another wrinkle into how language learning choices have become more complex for congregations. Where does that conversation about language learning start? One of my favorite biblical questions from the Parable of the Good Samaritan. "Who is my neighbor?" The two things I have noticed as I drive into work: The US Military presence, and Korean language signage. I have a lot of language to learn from both communities. I cannot afford to underrate language learning anymore.
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.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Classic Sports Discourse, Revisited for the Church
I am currently working on a series of blog posts in the coming week or two using a framework often used in sports, but I am trying it with the life of the church. What is overrated? What is underrated? Sports people in radio and in the business attempt to stay away from overvalued athletes (unless you're the New York Yankees or Boston Red Sox) and maximize undervalued athletes. The church should probably stay away from looking at people and ministries as commodities, yet it is important to understand the dynamics of public discourse and what receives our attention.
What do you think? When it comes to the life of the church: what is overrated? What is underrated?
Here are the examples I am currently addressing in my thoughts that will turn into blog posts in the series:
Overrated: Office space. Mission statements.
Underrated: Grace. Accountability.
I would not pin this framework on Jesus' thought processes and ministry. However, Jesus is doing something to this effect during the "blessings and woes" teaching in Luke 6. It's overrated to be full and rich. It's underrated to be excluded and hated because of an association with Jesus. It's underrated to be hungry and weeping. What do these statements mean? What does it say about human aspiration? What does it say about who we value as people? The underrated/overrated framework is a discussion piece about where we put our attention in public and congregational discourse.
If you are interested in writing a guest blog post, let me know. Or, if you have some input on possible topics, let me know! What do you think?
What do you think? When it comes to the life of the church: what is overrated? What is underrated?
Here are the examples I am currently addressing in my thoughts that will turn into blog posts in the series:
Overrated: Office space. Mission statements.
Underrated: Grace. Accountability.
I would not pin this framework on Jesus' thought processes and ministry. However, Jesus is doing something to this effect during the "blessings and woes" teaching in Luke 6. It's overrated to be full and rich. It's underrated to be excluded and hated because of an association with Jesus. It's underrated to be hungry and weeping. What do these statements mean? What does it say about human aspiration? What does it say about who we value as people? The underrated/overrated framework is a discussion piece about where we put our attention in public and congregational discourse.
If you are interested in writing a guest blog post, let me know. Or, if you have some input on possible topics, let me know! What do you think?
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.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
La pièce de résistance
How are we humans supposed to respond to resistance?
A. Fight through it.
B. Embrace it.
C. Avoid it.
D. Persuade it.
Does it matter who or what the resistance is? Sometimes the resistance is looking right at me in the mirror. Other times the resistance is a well-organized part of an institution. Other times the resistance is diffuse, yet omnipresent
Seth Godin invests a significant portion of his book Linchpin in the concept of "the resistance." Godin associates this concept with the portion of our brain that seeks comfort at all costs--survival mode or the status quo. In sociological terms, the resistance resembles a drive in organizations toward homeostasis--a calm center. It doesn't matter if the system is in decay, the resistance wants familiarity and peace.
In reading Linchpin, it's hard not think of Jesus' telling of The Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14-30). Why do some of the servants/slaves take risks where one does not? What variables are present?
Explicit variables:
+Degree of fear
+Willingness to take risk
+Ability
Implicit variables:
+Knowledge of the market
+Strength of relationships
The thread linking all of these variables is the resistance. There are theological terms that serve in relationship to the resistance, some might call it sin. Lutherans might call it "old Adam (others?)."
The interesting proposition is that the Parable of the Talents, and numerous authors, preachers, journalists, columnists and psychologists place all kinds of effort into addressing the resistance. Through shame, finger pointing, fear mongering, brain analysis and story telling (remember "Who Moved My Cheese?), the resistance receives a lot of attention.
These days, I'm leaning toward embracing resistance. According to Matthew, avoidance never works in the long term, and leads to weeping and gnashing of teeth. I will invest more time in the Parable of the Talents and Linchpin in my first year at St. John's Lutheran Church because the resistance is what confounds congregations and pastors and causes them to bury their talents in a hole, much like in The Parable. It doesn't take much searching among sister congregations and colleagues to see and hear weeping and gnashing of teeth.
A. Fight through it.
B. Embrace it.
C. Avoid it.
D. Persuade it.
Does it matter who or what the resistance is? Sometimes the resistance is looking right at me in the mirror. Other times the resistance is a well-organized part of an institution. Other times the resistance is diffuse, yet omnipresent
Seth Godin invests a significant portion of his book Linchpin in the concept of "the resistance." Godin associates this concept with the portion of our brain that seeks comfort at all costs--survival mode or the status quo. In sociological terms, the resistance resembles a drive in organizations toward homeostasis--a calm center. It doesn't matter if the system is in decay, the resistance wants familiarity and peace.
In reading Linchpin, it's hard not think of Jesus' telling of The Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14-30). Why do some of the servants/slaves take risks where one does not? What variables are present?
Explicit variables:
+Degree of fear
+Willingness to take risk
+Ability
Implicit variables:
+Knowledge of the market
+Strength of relationships
The thread linking all of these variables is the resistance. There are theological terms that serve in relationship to the resistance, some might call it sin. Lutherans might call it "old Adam (others?)."
The interesting proposition is that the Parable of the Talents, and numerous authors, preachers, journalists, columnists and psychologists place all kinds of effort into addressing the resistance. Through shame, finger pointing, fear mongering, brain analysis and story telling (remember "Who Moved My Cheese?), the resistance receives a lot of attention.
These days, I'm leaning toward embracing resistance. According to Matthew, avoidance never works in the long term, and leads to weeping and gnashing of teeth. I will invest more time in the Parable of the Talents and Linchpin in my first year at St. John's Lutheran Church because the resistance is what confounds congregations and pastors and causes them to bury their talents in a hole, much like in The Parable. It doesn't take much searching among sister congregations and colleagues to see and hear weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
My Experience with the Invisible Denominational Ladder
On several occasions over the last 10 years, congregational members would look at me and my growing young family on a Sunday morning and say "When are you going to get a real church?"
On a good day, I would use that question to talk about vocation and calling with the inquirer. I was called to interim ministry for 10 years. I believe I worked faithfully and skillfully. I attended interim ministry meetings and conferences as the often the youngest person in attendance by 25-40 years. It didn't matter that I was not a part of that ministry with my generational peers (though I sometimes longed for their companionship)--that's where my gifts were. I am a strong believer in the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25: 14-30), therefore I attempt to faithfully use what I have been given. Even in the midst of questions from colleagues, peers, denominational representatives, and even members of the congregation I served.
"When are you going to get a real church?"
Several church denominational systems create an unintentional invisible ladder for the vocational development of clergy. Many seminary graduates have five-figure student loans to finance their theological education. Many congregations who take seminary graduates to serve their congregations cannot afford to pay a wage that will realistically pay off the debt so that pastors can save money for retirement or pay for the education of their own children. Therefore after a brief tenure, the pastor moves on to larger congregations and/or more specialized positions in large metro areas with thriving suburbs. The congregations in rural South Dakota even recognized this dynamic. They sometimes encouraged me to leave so that I may thrive in ministry in a "bigger and better" place. Many people lined up in my life to give thanks for the opportunity to serve together, but the same question always arose:
"When are you going to get a real church?"
After completing my most recent transitional ministry in Port Orchard, Melanie and I affirmed what we learned early on in that period of service; this 10 year season of interim ministry was over. It is too logistically challenging to be good pastors and good parents to our two daughters. Melanie and I considered many congregational opportunities, and some reflected a denominational ladder. I have experience as a lead pastor in larger congregations and supervising staff. I have experience in congregations with large budgets that give a lot of money to denominational ministry (both in Lutheran and Presbyterian congregations). Without saying so, the system's message is that I should be in a larger congregation--that's the message of the pervasive question about my status with a "real church."
After a meeting last night with a small urban/suburban congregation in significant decline, we studied our body language toward each other and wondered if God was present in this discussion. Even though it is likely I will be their called pastor, people will still ask me the question, "when are you going to get a real church?" I don't really want to address the real church question. We recognize the Invisible Denominational Ladder together, lose any fixation with that and behave in a manner that God may be doing something with us. We don't need to articulate a bromide to assure ourselves that we are the church regardless of the congregational size. We don't need to give ourselves a pep talk. Collectively we will give thanks to God for Jesus and the blessing of being a community. We will gather and ask the question, "how can we serve our neighbor?"
The Invisible Denominational Ladder is of our own creation in what we know as "Mainline Protestantism." Some ladders look a little different in each denomination. It's not something that someone else did. It's there and part of who we are, like the wind, or atoms, or molecules. Maybe the ladder needs to be torn down, and maybe someone is called to tear it down. Calling and faithful use of gifts carries the day--which is what ignites my memory and action.
On a good day, I would use that question to talk about vocation and calling with the inquirer. I was called to interim ministry for 10 years. I believe I worked faithfully and skillfully. I attended interim ministry meetings and conferences as the often the youngest person in attendance by 25-40 years. It didn't matter that I was not a part of that ministry with my generational peers (though I sometimes longed for their companionship)--that's where my gifts were. I am a strong believer in the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25: 14-30), therefore I attempt to faithfully use what I have been given. Even in the midst of questions from colleagues, peers, denominational representatives, and even members of the congregation I served.
"When are you going to get a real church?"
Several church denominational systems create an unintentional invisible ladder for the vocational development of clergy. Many seminary graduates have five-figure student loans to finance their theological education. Many congregations who take seminary graduates to serve their congregations cannot afford to pay a wage that will realistically pay off the debt so that pastors can save money for retirement or pay for the education of their own children. Therefore after a brief tenure, the pastor moves on to larger congregations and/or more specialized positions in large metro areas with thriving suburbs. The congregations in rural South Dakota even recognized this dynamic. They sometimes encouraged me to leave so that I may thrive in ministry in a "bigger and better" place. Many people lined up in my life to give thanks for the opportunity to serve together, but the same question always arose:
"When are you going to get a real church?"
After completing my most recent transitional ministry in Port Orchard, Melanie and I affirmed what we learned early on in that period of service; this 10 year season of interim ministry was over. It is too logistically challenging to be good pastors and good parents to our two daughters. Melanie and I considered many congregational opportunities, and some reflected a denominational ladder. I have experience as a lead pastor in larger congregations and supervising staff. I have experience in congregations with large budgets that give a lot of money to denominational ministry (both in Lutheran and Presbyterian congregations). Without saying so, the system's message is that I should be in a larger congregation--that's the message of the pervasive question about my status with a "real church."
After a meeting last night with a small urban/suburban congregation in significant decline, we studied our body language toward each other and wondered if God was present in this discussion. Even though it is likely I will be their called pastor, people will still ask me the question, "when are you going to get a real church?" I don't really want to address the real church question. We recognize the Invisible Denominational Ladder together, lose any fixation with that and behave in a manner that God may be doing something with us. We don't need to articulate a bromide to assure ourselves that we are the church regardless of the congregational size. We don't need to give ourselves a pep talk. Collectively we will give thanks to God for Jesus and the blessing of being a community. We will gather and ask the question, "how can we serve our neighbor?"
The Invisible Denominational Ladder is of our own creation in what we know as "Mainline Protestantism." Some ladders look a little different in each denomination. It's not something that someone else did. It's there and part of who we are, like the wind, or atoms, or molecules. Maybe the ladder needs to be torn down, and maybe someone is called to tear it down. Calling and faithful use of gifts carries the day--which is what ignites my memory and action.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
What happened to casting lots?
Many Christians of varied theological persuasions argue for a stronger relationship with the Bible. From the literalists to liberals, the Bible is seen as an important component to living a life of Christian faith. Pay attention to Jesus. Pay attention to God's commandments. Follow the household codes of Paul. The Bible argues for a communal consciousness. Christians usually take their pick about what is important to them.
What happened to casting lots?
Since Seth Godin ruminated on the coin flip in April, I've thought about the dozen or so call processes I've watched closely. How many opportunities and resources are wasted with superfluous information gathering and study all in the name of "discernment?" I'm not sure the congregation learns any more about itself, prepares itself better for mission, or puts itself in a better position to have a better ministry relationship with its next pastor through a prolonged call process lasting a year or more (there are plenty of call failures out there). At what point is the line crossed between learning and resource wasting (I wonder about that and my own formalized education)? I believe reflection and study are important--I would be in the wrong line of work if I didn't. One thing Godin does not examine is that we are probably averse to coin flips because the primitive practice somehow insults our modern level intelligence or abilities. Are our methods at reaching a decision or a call choice reliable? Are they faithful? Godin looks at what we call in the church world "discernment" as a stewardship issue. There comes a time when a coin flip is better. If we want to make it sound biblical, let's call it casting lots.
Casting lots appears 23 times in the NRSV (by my count), and this methodology is depicted as faithful, fair and reliable as any study or prayer method. Let's be faithful prayers and students. But let's be good stewards and go for casting lots. Maybe then we won't overstate our importance, and even be better stewards in meantime.
What happened to casting lots?
Since Seth Godin ruminated on the coin flip in April, I've thought about the dozen or so call processes I've watched closely. How many opportunities and resources are wasted with superfluous information gathering and study all in the name of "discernment?" I'm not sure the congregation learns any more about itself, prepares itself better for mission, or puts itself in a better position to have a better ministry relationship with its next pastor through a prolonged call process lasting a year or more (there are plenty of call failures out there). At what point is the line crossed between learning and resource wasting (I wonder about that and my own formalized education)? I believe reflection and study are important--I would be in the wrong line of work if I didn't. One thing Godin does not examine is that we are probably averse to coin flips because the primitive practice somehow insults our modern level intelligence or abilities. Are our methods at reaching a decision or a call choice reliable? Are they faithful? Godin looks at what we call in the church world "discernment" as a stewardship issue. There comes a time when a coin flip is better. If we want to make it sound biblical, let's call it casting lots.
Casting lots appears 23 times in the NRSV (by my count), and this methodology is depicted as faithful, fair and reliable as any study or prayer method. Let's be faithful prayers and students. But let's be good stewards and go for casting lots. Maybe then we won't overstate our importance, and even be better stewards in meantime.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Finding a place on the road to calling between sentimentality and utilitarianism
As an interim pastor, my job is to manage expectations. I find congregations either dripping with sentimentality about their past, a congregation entangled in their own details, or at least an interesting combination of the two. My present interim congregation, First Lutheran Community Church in Port Orchard, Washington, is voting to call their next pastor this Sunday, February 13. Dating and engagement images (hello, Valentine's Day) are inevitable. So much excitement! So much curiosity! So much imagination!
I wonder what treasures of God's word can be uncovered to lead the congregation through the end of their valley of the shadow of death to the glorious epiphany that will be their call--a chorus of angels with a prelude aria leading to a crescendo where the entirety of heavenly hosts joins the angel chorus and loudly proclaims, "This pastor! This pastor! This pastor!"
Take a vomit break, if you choose.
There's a God-element to a calling, as there is a human element. These elements are intertwined in a chromosome-like double helix. If all callings were perfect, congregations would not falter. A calling is an agreement to a ministry and leadership relationship. A means to which we hold ourselves accountable to the work that God gives us. A commitment to help each other grow as children of God. Pastors and congregations are not saviors to one another. Sometimes a calling leads to conditions that are harder, not easier.
Take Numbers 11 for example (my sermon text for Sunday). Moses complains to God, because he feels the isolation of ministry and leadership. God provides a calling to elders, and ministry conditions not only not improve, they deteriorate. That doesn't mean that ministry partnerships and shared leadership are failures, but it does cause us to check our expectations and drive us toward seeking God in the midst of our challenges, and be formed by the wisdom of God rather than cling to our unreasonable demands, selfish preferences, and skewed expectations. Numbers 11 is a text about the importance of calling and the provision of God, but it is also a check on our expectations and a reminder about our dependence on God, and not the call itself. In Numbers 11, the sentimental notion of call is out the window, and even the utilitarian one. The call is linked to God, and it doesn't mean ministry will get easier. But it does give us something with which to work, and God is present.
I wonder what treasures of God's word can be uncovered to lead the congregation through the end of their valley of the shadow of death to the glorious epiphany that will be their call--a chorus of angels with a prelude aria leading to a crescendo where the entirety of heavenly hosts joins the angel chorus and loudly proclaims, "This pastor! This pastor! This pastor!"
Take a vomit break, if you choose.
There's a God-element to a calling, as there is a human element. These elements are intertwined in a chromosome-like double helix. If all callings were perfect, congregations would not falter. A calling is an agreement to a ministry and leadership relationship. A means to which we hold ourselves accountable to the work that God gives us. A commitment to help each other grow as children of God. Pastors and congregations are not saviors to one another. Sometimes a calling leads to conditions that are harder, not easier.
Take Numbers 11 for example (my sermon text for Sunday). Moses complains to God, because he feels the isolation of ministry and leadership. God provides a calling to elders, and ministry conditions not only not improve, they deteriorate. That doesn't mean that ministry partnerships and shared leadership are failures, but it does cause us to check our expectations and drive us toward seeking God in the midst of our challenges, and be formed by the wisdom of God rather than cling to our unreasonable demands, selfish preferences, and skewed expectations. Numbers 11 is a text about the importance of calling and the provision of God, but it is also a check on our expectations and a reminder about our dependence on God, and not the call itself. In Numbers 11, the sentimental notion of call is out the window, and even the utilitarian one. The call is linked to God, and it doesn't mean ministry will get easier. But it does give us something with which to work, and God is present.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
A renewed look at frequently viewed blog posts
One of my greatest hopes in writing is that I connect with readers, causing them to think, pray, give thanks and learn. I also hope that comments will help me do the same. I continue to marvel at what some people seek when they peruse their favorite search engine. This post is devoted to what curious people find topically interesting about my thoughts and writing.
Currently I am collecting my thoughts for another season of writing. My time at First Lutheran Community Church in Port Orchard is probably in its last months. I am hopefully moving away from interim ministry and finding a calling that will allow me some creative space while remaining close to congregational life.
Here are a few posts that continue to receive looks:
Does God Change? I think many people wonder about the nature of the God of the Hebrew and Christian Bible. I have found over the years that the way people answer this question says more about their attitude toward change than their attitude toward God. According to the biblical witness, the answer can be both yes and no, which maddens some and delights others. The emotional response doesn't matter, the complexity of the nature of God is a given. Human understandings of change are insufficient to be projected on God, but God's passion and love for people and pursuit of keeping promises should not be lost on frustration of God not performing to human expectation.
Ten Commandments Mnemonic Sometimes I have something to share with the world that is actually practical for ministry use. I can't take credit for it. Nate Hanson, a pastoral colleague in South Dakota, shared this memory application with me about 10 years ago. In my discussions about the 10 Commandments, I learned that most people in the congregations I serve don't elevate them to the 4th person in the Trinity, yet they treat them like wisdom literature; they want to learn more about their nuance and life application, yet they don't want to resort to fear-based memory work that dulls the wisdom.
"We are a warm and friendly church." After serving 10 congregations and consulting with many others, I've only encountered one congregation who would not agree with this statement. I think congregations are finally starting to experience some dissonance of the false nature of the positive friendly statement. In most congregational cultures, people are friendly with each other, and therefore often project that personal feeling of friendliness and mistake it for hospitality. Congregations struggle with hospitality, and the dissonance has not peaked. Maybe a mass closing of congregations will make congregations take notice in Oldline Protestantism, because hospitality practices are slow to change if there is change at all. But the hits on this blog post at least have me curious about the perception of hospitality. I've been wondering if the time is right for a deeper discussion of whether it's appropriate to call a congregation a family. I tend to believe no in the view of my teacher Pat Keifert. I don't think the family image for congregation has done well for the church, and I'm not sure if it's faithful, either.
Currently I am collecting my thoughts for another season of writing. My time at First Lutheran Community Church in Port Orchard is probably in its last months. I am hopefully moving away from interim ministry and finding a calling that will allow me some creative space while remaining close to congregational life.
Here are a few posts that continue to receive looks:
Does God Change? I think many people wonder about the nature of the God of the Hebrew and Christian Bible. I have found over the years that the way people answer this question says more about their attitude toward change than their attitude toward God. According to the biblical witness, the answer can be both yes and no, which maddens some and delights others. The emotional response doesn't matter, the complexity of the nature of God is a given. Human understandings of change are insufficient to be projected on God, but God's passion and love for people and pursuit of keeping promises should not be lost on frustration of God not performing to human expectation.
Ten Commandments Mnemonic Sometimes I have something to share with the world that is actually practical for ministry use. I can't take credit for it. Nate Hanson, a pastoral colleague in South Dakota, shared this memory application with me about 10 years ago. In my discussions about the 10 Commandments, I learned that most people in the congregations I serve don't elevate them to the 4th person in the Trinity, yet they treat them like wisdom literature; they want to learn more about their nuance and life application, yet they don't want to resort to fear-based memory work that dulls the wisdom.
"We are a warm and friendly church." After serving 10 congregations and consulting with many others, I've only encountered one congregation who would not agree with this statement. I think congregations are finally starting to experience some dissonance of the false nature of the positive friendly statement. In most congregational cultures, people are friendly with each other, and therefore often project that personal feeling of friendliness and mistake it for hospitality. Congregations struggle with hospitality, and the dissonance has not peaked. Maybe a mass closing of congregations will make congregations take notice in Oldline Protestantism, because hospitality practices are slow to change if there is change at all. But the hits on this blog post at least have me curious about the perception of hospitality. I've been wondering if the time is right for a deeper discussion of whether it's appropriate to call a congregation a family. I tend to believe no in the view of my teacher Pat Keifert. I don't think the family image for congregation has done well for the church, and I'm not sure if it's faithful, either.
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.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Movie Reflection: Get Low
As a called and ordained minister of the Church of Christ, and by his authority, I therefore declare to you the entire forgiveness of all of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the +Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
For 10 years of my young life, The Brief Order of Confession and Forgiveness, page 77 (coincidental to Mt 18:21-22?) in the The Lutheran Book of Worship (aka The Green Hymnal or the LBW) was my regular contact with the concept of forgiveness. I knew the page well, considering how the page curled from regular use, my ink-pen stained finger prints dotted the page, and the growing fuzzy edges prevented paper cuts. The LBW provided tactile reminders of sins committed and assurance of God's love in Christ, like a nun kneels and rubs her fingers along beads of a rosary. The "Brief Order of Confession and Forgiveness" was usually the first act of public worship each Sunday morning. Alongside the sermon, the confession had the most impact on me in early Christian life. This practice suited me not because it's fun, but because I am a naturally reflective person. Where have I been? Where am I going? What is my relationship with God? I could ponder those questions for years, but in the span of a few minutes, my reflections and redemption took shape. Even though I have felt the impact of sin and the liberation of redemption, the power of confession and forgiveness can still be elusive.
Imagine reflecting upon haunting sins and the elusiveness of forgiveness for a span of 40-plus years. Though I could only imagine that kind of torment, the storytelling of the film Get Low took me inside one man's understanding of love, sin, forgiveness, penance and redemption--and how his thoughts and actions influenced others' views and actions. The film is a 1930's period piece from the Bible Belt with an interesting connection to my own faith tradition in the Evangelical Lutheran Church In America. The film made me realize the gift of confession and forgiveness in the life of the church and my own faith, but it also made me realize how the church's rituals and teaching can be deficient in people's real lives. The confession and forgiveness practice can be programmed and sometimes rote, and life in between the rituals and proclamations is much messier than people (clergy included) care to often times understand.
Though forgiveness is the driving theme, the story telling is well crafted and the character development, cinematography, and top notch Bluegrass music (Jerry Douglass and Alison Krauss, to name a few) maximize the theme's impact. Because the film is based on a true story, some details could not be fictionally created (you can't make this stuff up!). After 40-plus years living the life of a hermit, Felix Bush (Robert Duvall) comes to town wanting to throw a funeral party, his own, before he dies. The meaning of this funeral party is revealed through his interactions with a local funeral director Frank Quinn (Bill Murray), his assistant (Lucas Black), two preachers, and an old friend (Sissy Spacek), and other town folk. For Frank Quinn, the funeral is unorthodox, but an opportunity to revive his sagging funeral business. For his assistant, his sense of right and wrong is constantly challenged.
A few sub themes worth noting in "Get Low" include the understanding of vocation in the world and how it is shared. Another sub-theme deals with how little people really know about one another--even in a small town. Another involves reflections upon integrity in the midst of personal identity and promises kept. It's one thing to teach, preach or discuss themes of sin, confession, forgiveness, redemption, vocation, relationships, promises, integrity and peace. Video is a special medium--and film story telling is a unique opportunity for impact, with the cinematography, music, and acting interpretation. Not only is the story and it's themes powerful because of the film making quality, but the humor is prevalent and disarming, but not distracting or trite. I can only tell you so much. Go see the film. Take adults. Take teenagers. Take someone you love. Talk about the film with one another. Journal about the film. Blog about the film. Tweet about the film.
For readers in the Puget Sound area, my wife and I viewed the film at Grand Cinema in Tacoma. This was our first trip to the Grand, and it represents all that is good about a trip to the movies--a non-profit cinema with lower prices and smaller concessions, staffed by friendly volunteers in a well-cared for setting both inside and out. We will go back because of the mission and the experience at the Grand.
For 10 years of my young life, The Brief Order of Confession and Forgiveness, page 77 (coincidental to Mt 18:21-22?) in the The Lutheran Book of Worship (aka The Green Hymnal or the LBW) was my regular contact with the concept of forgiveness. I knew the page well, considering how the page curled from regular use, my ink-pen stained finger prints dotted the page, and the growing fuzzy edges prevented paper cuts. The LBW provided tactile reminders of sins committed and assurance of God's love in Christ, like a nun kneels and rubs her fingers along beads of a rosary. The "Brief Order of Confession and Forgiveness" was usually the first act of public worship each Sunday morning. Alongside the sermon, the confession had the most impact on me in early Christian life. This practice suited me not because it's fun, but because I am a naturally reflective person. Where have I been? Where am I going? What is my relationship with God? I could ponder those questions for years, but in the span of a few minutes, my reflections and redemption took shape. Even though I have felt the impact of sin and the liberation of redemption, the power of confession and forgiveness can still be elusive.
Imagine reflecting upon haunting sins and the elusiveness of forgiveness for a span of 40-plus years. Though I could only imagine that kind of torment, the storytelling of the film Get Low took me inside one man's understanding of love, sin, forgiveness, penance and redemption--and how his thoughts and actions influenced others' views and actions. The film is a 1930's period piece from the Bible Belt with an interesting connection to my own faith tradition in the Evangelical Lutheran Church In America. The film made me realize the gift of confession and forgiveness in the life of the church and my own faith, but it also made me realize how the church's rituals and teaching can be deficient in people's real lives. The confession and forgiveness practice can be programmed and sometimes rote, and life in between the rituals and proclamations is much messier than people (clergy included) care to often times understand.
Though forgiveness is the driving theme, the story telling is well crafted and the character development, cinematography, and top notch Bluegrass music (Jerry Douglass and Alison Krauss, to name a few) maximize the theme's impact. Because the film is based on a true story, some details could not be fictionally created (you can't make this stuff up!). After 40-plus years living the life of a hermit, Felix Bush (Robert Duvall) comes to town wanting to throw a funeral party, his own, before he dies. The meaning of this funeral party is revealed through his interactions with a local funeral director Frank Quinn (Bill Murray), his assistant (Lucas Black), two preachers, and an old friend (Sissy Spacek), and other town folk. For Frank Quinn, the funeral is unorthodox, but an opportunity to revive his sagging funeral business. For his assistant, his sense of right and wrong is constantly challenged.
A few sub themes worth noting in "Get Low" include the understanding of vocation in the world and how it is shared. Another sub-theme deals with how little people really know about one another--even in a small town. Another involves reflections upon integrity in the midst of personal identity and promises kept. It's one thing to teach, preach or discuss themes of sin, confession, forgiveness, redemption, vocation, relationships, promises, integrity and peace. Video is a special medium--and film story telling is a unique opportunity for impact, with the cinematography, music, and acting interpretation. Not only is the story and it's themes powerful because of the film making quality, but the humor is prevalent and disarming, but not distracting or trite. I can only tell you so much. Go see the film. Take adults. Take teenagers. Take someone you love. Talk about the film with one another. Journal about the film. Blog about the film. Tweet about the film.
For readers in the Puget Sound area, my wife and I viewed the film at Grand Cinema in Tacoma. This was our first trip to the Grand, and it represents all that is good about a trip to the movies--a non-profit cinema with lower prices and smaller concessions, staffed by friendly volunteers in a well-cared for setting both inside and out. We will go back because of the mission and the experience at the Grand.
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.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Ten Commandments Mnemonic Used During Kid Sermon
Last Sunday, I had the highest adult participation during a kid sermon in my experience. People commenting to me wished they had a good memory device for the Ten Commandments back in Confirmation--and I gave them such a device. Their enthusiasm simultaneously reflected jubilation, relief and angst.
I can't take credit for the creation of the study help, only the delivery. I received the device in 1999 from my colleague in South Dakota, Nate Hanson, who served (still serving?) Moe Parish near Hudson, SD. I've used the device ever since. Maybe its origins are deeper, but I have no knowledge of its use outside of South Dakota. Since sharing the memory device, I've received several requests for a typed copy. A You Tube video seems most appropriate, but until I put that together, a blog post will have to suffice.
A Ten Commandments Mnemonic:
1. Hold up one finger. Point to your eye. "First Commandment: I am the Lord your God. You shall have no other gods."
2. Hold up two fingers. Reach the two fingers to touch the VEINS on your wrist. "Second Commandment: you shall not take the Lord's name in vain."
3. Hold up three fingers. Emphasize the HOLE made when holding up three fingers. Look through the hole. "Third Commandment: remember the Sabbath day. Keep it Hole-y."
4. Hold up four fingers. Hold the four fingers in preparation to salute. "Fourth Commandment: honor your father and mother." Salute.
5. Hold up five fingers. Point the thumb downward as to indicate a medieval death sentence. "You shall not kill."
6. Hold up six fingers (five fingers on one hand and the thumb on the other). Take the single thumb and stab yourself in the heart to depict the pain of adultery. "Sixth Commandment: you shall not commit adultery."
7. Hold up seven fingers (five fingers on one hand and the thumb and index finger on the other, as if pointing a gun and committing a robbery). "Seventh Commandment: you shall not steal."
8. Hold up eight fingers (four fingers on each hand, thumbs folded in). Make a downward scratching motion in the air in front of you. "Eighth Commandment: you shall not BEAR false witness against your neighbor."
9. Hold up nine fingers. Then hold out the nine fingers in front of you, palms up. Show the ring finger, a remembrance of marriage. "Ninth Commandment: you shall not covet your neighbor's wife."
10. Hold up ten fingers. Next, put the tips of fingers up to form a triangle above your head--to look like you are putting a roof over your head. "Tenth Commandment: you shall not cover your neighbor's HOUSE." Lay out one hand to one side and say, "man servant." Lay the other hand out to the other side and say, "maid servant." Take your two index fingers and put them on the side of your head to look like horns and say, "cattle." Lay both palms out and say, "or ANYTHING else that is your neighbor's."
With this mnemonic device, you have Ten Commandments spelled out. Obviously the commandments are not explained, but the device can be used as a base for teaching. In my experience, the commandment itself is memorized after only a few times through--and subsequent quick reviews help. The device works at Confirmation retreats or lessons, serves a quick review for adults, youth group, and keeps kids moving and thinking during a kid sermon or preschool chapel time. If you try it, let me know how it works for you. I can also take questions and would love to help any way I can.
I can't take credit for the creation of the study help, only the delivery. I received the device in 1999 from my colleague in South Dakota, Nate Hanson, who served (still serving?) Moe Parish near Hudson, SD. I've used the device ever since. Maybe its origins are deeper, but I have no knowledge of its use outside of South Dakota. Since sharing the memory device, I've received several requests for a typed copy. A You Tube video seems most appropriate, but until I put that together, a blog post will have to suffice.
A Ten Commandments Mnemonic:
1. Hold up one finger. Point to your eye. "First Commandment: I am the Lord your God. You shall have no other gods."
2. Hold up two fingers. Reach the two fingers to touch the VEINS on your wrist. "Second Commandment: you shall not take the Lord's name in vain."
3. Hold up three fingers. Emphasize the HOLE made when holding up three fingers. Look through the hole. "Third Commandment: remember the Sabbath day. Keep it Hole-y."
4. Hold up four fingers. Hold the four fingers in preparation to salute. "Fourth Commandment: honor your father and mother." Salute.
5. Hold up five fingers. Point the thumb downward as to indicate a medieval death sentence. "You shall not kill."
6. Hold up six fingers (five fingers on one hand and the thumb on the other). Take the single thumb and stab yourself in the heart to depict the pain of adultery. "Sixth Commandment: you shall not commit adultery."
7. Hold up seven fingers (five fingers on one hand and the thumb and index finger on the other, as if pointing a gun and committing a robbery). "Seventh Commandment: you shall not steal."
8. Hold up eight fingers (four fingers on each hand, thumbs folded in). Make a downward scratching motion in the air in front of you. "Eighth Commandment: you shall not BEAR false witness against your neighbor."
9. Hold up nine fingers. Then hold out the nine fingers in front of you, palms up. Show the ring finger, a remembrance of marriage. "Ninth Commandment: you shall not covet your neighbor's wife."
10. Hold up ten fingers. Next, put the tips of fingers up to form a triangle above your head--to look like you are putting a roof over your head. "Tenth Commandment: you shall not cover your neighbor's HOUSE." Lay out one hand to one side and say, "man servant." Lay the other hand out to the other side and say, "maid servant." Take your two index fingers and put them on the side of your head to look like horns and say, "cattle." Lay both palms out and say, "or ANYTHING else that is your neighbor's."
With this mnemonic device, you have Ten Commandments spelled out. Obviously the commandments are not explained, but the device can be used as a base for teaching. In my experience, the commandment itself is memorized after only a few times through--and subsequent quick reviews help. The device works at Confirmation retreats or lessons, serves a quick review for adults, youth group, and keeps kids moving and thinking during a kid sermon or preschool chapel time. If you try it, let me know how it works for you. I can also take questions and would love to help any way I can.
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 8, 2010
Where will the Church go from here?
I tend to see the Church and any congregation I serve at a crossroads. Maybe that is my tendency after 9 years of interim ministry and 10 congregations asking deep questions about their ministries. These congregations experienced the loss of a pastor, and often other traumatic changes ranging from pastoral sexual misconduct, to the death of a pastor, to violent conflict. The questions I ask of crossroads congregations include:
1. Why has God called this congregation to this particular place at this particular time?
2. Where will this congregation go from here?
Acts and the Pauline writings of the New Testament depict a Church and communities in specific locales addressing questions similar to the aforementioned questions. Communities of the New Testament are living among questions regarding their existence in Christ, and how they live out these foundational truths in practice.
First Lutheran Community Church served as a visionary congregation with a visionary pastor for 20 years. The vision was once a distant idea, but now the vision is mostly part of the current congregational culture. As FLCC prepares to call a new pastor, the time comes again for visionary thinking for ministry. Where will First Lutheran Community Church go from here? I believe the Church at large asks some of the same questions that FLCC asks itself. During the next sermon series during May and June (maybe longer), we will take a micro (FLCC) and macro (the ELCA, the mainline protestant churches of the Pacific Northwest, the Church in North America, etc.) views of particular episodes in the life of a new Christian Church depicted in Acts and the early writings of Paul.
Where will the Church go from here?
This Sunday's Bible text comes from Acts 1: 12-26, and the sermon title is "Loved, Valued and Replaceable."
1. Why has God called this congregation to this particular place at this particular time?
2. Where will this congregation go from here?
Acts and the Pauline writings of the New Testament depict a Church and communities in specific locales addressing questions similar to the aforementioned questions. Communities of the New Testament are living among questions regarding their existence in Christ, and how they live out these foundational truths in practice.
First Lutheran Community Church served as a visionary congregation with a visionary pastor for 20 years. The vision was once a distant idea, but now the vision is mostly part of the current congregational culture. As FLCC prepares to call a new pastor, the time comes again for visionary thinking for ministry. Where will First Lutheran Community Church go from here? I believe the Church at large asks some of the same questions that FLCC asks itself. During the next sermon series during May and June (maybe longer), we will take a micro (FLCC) and macro (the ELCA, the mainline protestant churches of the Pacific Northwest, the Church in North America, etc.) views of particular episodes in the life of a new Christian Church depicted in Acts and the early writings of Paul.
Where will the Church go from here?
This Sunday's Bible text comes from Acts 1: 12-26, and the sermon title is "Loved, Valued and Replaceable."
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