The field of continuing education for pastors and congregations presents both minefields and opportunities for reaching a goal.
What are the minefields:
1. Cost. My congregation was faced with an opportunity for an educational event for both me and 2-4 leaders from the congregation. I won't go into all of variables for attending, only that attending is about as close to being a "need" without actually being a need. The event is semi-annual, with the next event gathering in Houston, Texas. Round-trip airfare, tuition, hotel and other expenses, we were probably looking at $2-4K to make that trip. I pondered the opportunity cost for that trip for several weeks. I go to the training because it's part of my job, and the training does have value. For others, I'm asking individuals in my congregation to invest at least 4 days away from work and family.
2. Efficacy. I have heard some great theologians, teachers, leaders and preachers over the years at educational events. Some presentations were a waste of time. Sometimes this was the speaker's fault (delivery, under prepared), sometimes it was mine (I can have a bad attitude), sometimes it was the planner(s) of the event. Sometimes the responsibility is shared. Some speakers had a profound effect on me during that particular moment--it was something I needed to hear. I didn't necessarily require that person's words would profoundly change my life every day for the next 10 years, only that their insight was part of my overall sustenance and encouragement. It's like a feast. Feasts everyday can lose their meaning over time. Occasionally shared, feasts are the spice of life. I think about this when I reflect on events where I've heard Will Willimon, Sandra Day O'Connor, Martin Marty, and Maya Angelou. These kind of speakers draw people to come to conferences. These are wise people, and their words can be helpful and insightful. However, in my experience, these kinds of events don't necessarily elicit much change in my work. From some learning events I have returned home with some books, a binder full of materials, or have my email inbox filled with Power Points and documents. Rarely do I look at these documents ever again. That may be just as much about my habits as it is about educational philosophy, but I also know that I am not alone in owning a bookshelf loaded with books, boxes and binders holding the dusty hope of personal and organizational renewal.
After attending Unconference11 in May, the minefields of education became clearer to me about how I would invest learning time and resources in the future. Rock star quality speakers are not required (but hey, if they want to come and participate like everyone else, great!).
Where are the opportunities?
Connecting communication technologies (social media, blogs, web) provide key components to any learning and change opportunity. Learning is just as much about relationships as it is information. This is not an educational newsflash--many educational approaches gain leverage through relationships. However, I have observed that in church circles, there's still a lot of weight placed in bringing a big name speaker and implicitly inflicting death by Power Point for an educational event. The problem is, if I want the material I gain to truly take root, there needs to be relationship networks ready and available to take my enthusiasm as a convert and weave it in to the fabric of my life. #Unco11 #Unco12 #chsocm (specific Twitter linked communities) have provided access and friendships with other learners so that I gain support, insight, challenge, and an opportunity to share as well.
As I look at the minefields and opportunities for goal reaching in continuing education for pastors and congregations, I fear testing my own theories. I want to host an educational event. I believe that communication strategies for pastors and congregations are important in their work of sharing the Good News of Jesus. I don't need to host a big top event. It's time to trust the relationships I have built and that God will be present in not only where two or three are gathered, but will gather again as the relationships continue.
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Generosity and creativity go hand in hand
What do we think about entrepreneurs in the church?
What does it take to create a faithful and thriving Christian community?
Are "faithful" and "thriving" mutually exclusive?
As I look across the mission field in the Pacific Northwest, knowing that any stewardship campaign I've ever done (in any place in the world) has not been "enough" for anyone involved in the community, why do we continue to attempt to resource ourselves the same way (definition of insanity)? When a leader comes along with a new/unfamiliar way (rooted in a faithful way) of gathering resources, is that methodology viewed with suspicion?
My observation: implicit messages exist all over historically Mainline Protestant traditions that entrepreneurs and their ideas are not welcome. Why? Is this a good thing?
I believe that among God's people there is always the opportunity to teach and encourage generosity. Generosity will indeed inspire and resource mission in the church. However, there's more to mission than generosity. Without creativity taught and encouraged, generosity misses part of the equation. Creativity must be unleashed.
Generosity and creativity go hand in hand.
What does it take to create a faithful and thriving Christian community?
Are "faithful" and "thriving" mutually exclusive?
As I look across the mission field in the Pacific Northwest, knowing that any stewardship campaign I've ever done (in any place in the world) has not been "enough" for anyone involved in the community, why do we continue to attempt to resource ourselves the same way (definition of insanity)? When a leader comes along with a new/unfamiliar way (rooted in a faithful way) of gathering resources, is that methodology viewed with suspicion?
My observation: implicit messages exist all over historically Mainline Protestant traditions that entrepreneurs and their ideas are not welcome. Why? Is this a good thing?
I believe that among God's people there is always the opportunity to teach and encourage generosity. Generosity will indeed inspire and resource mission in the church. However, there's more to mission than generosity. Without creativity taught and encouraged, generosity misses part of the equation. Creativity must be unleashed.
Generosity and creativity go hand in hand.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Lessons from language learning
A primary lesson of 10 years of interim ministry was learning to maintain balance during times of change and flux. Not that everything around me was going to feel right or that I looked good, rather, that panic was avoided and that community life moved forward toward a goal. Interim ministry and transition is not the place for the perfectionist, whether a pastor or a congregation member. The ability to recover from a setback, mistake or anxiety trigger is paramount to progress. I know this to be true in ministry, athletic endeavors, parenting and now language. I'm leaning toward learning that the importance of recovery is a universal truth.
Here's how my learning has developed recently. I the past month I've taken on learning Korean as an avocation. Some people don't understand why I would invest my time this way. I see a multitude of Korean signs in my congregation's neighborhood, and I see learning language as a path to hospitality and connection. I suppose it would be beneficial for any immigrant to learn English, but I will attempt to meet them a little closer to where they are toward their destination. A favorite writer Keith Law recommended the Pimsleur method as an anchor for language learning.
I've been working with Pimsleur for 2 weeks, and I get more out of Pimsleur than I have in any other language learning process in my life. I've learned some Danish, French, Spanish, Russian, and reading ability in ancient forms of Greek and Hebrew, but my mental adjustments to Korean are different than any of the languages I have learned before. I'm not learning Korean easily, but appreciate the methodology. I began to understand while taking my 8-year-old daughter to speech therapy. Pimsleur was an applied linguistics and French scholar at UCLA and that his approach was similar to the approach of her speech therapist, whose specialty happens to be applied linguistics.
My daughter has auditory processing problems. She hears sounds well, but the movement from sound, to processing the sound, to speech doesn't work well. With regular speech therapy, she is improving. If the conversation doesn't move as planned, my daughter gets frustrated and the conversation breaks down further. What her speech therapist teaches her through a variety of drills and practical approaches is a growing ability to recover when communication inevitably breaks down (this IS universal). This ability is easily taken for granted, though we know in our own lives that communication breaks down frequently. The ability to recover makes a difference. My daughter learns to recover through speech therapy.
I do something similar using the Pimsleur method. Through its series of drills breaking down the sounds of language in many different combinations, I don't necessarily merely focus on memorizing particular words, but through work with sounds that make up language, I find myself less lost. Our speech therapist says these approaches in therapy and language education are similar, and that we are not being equipped to be perfect with language, but rather that we can recover when communication breaks down.
During my years of interim ministry, I have found no greater lesson. The ability to adjust and recover in during communication break down is far more important than learning to do something perfectly. The goal is to connect. The goal is to share a message. The goal is to build relationships. The goal is to learn. I still like to strive toward perfection to some degree, but frustration over not reaching perfection ends many attempts in life to do something good. I encounter this break down daily--in parenting, in building a household, in marriage, in ministry, in health, in vocation. It remains to be seen whether I will be able to live this out in the many facets of my life, but I have the lesson played out regularly during my trips to speech therapy and Korean language sessions.
Here's how my learning has developed recently. I the past month I've taken on learning Korean as an avocation. Some people don't understand why I would invest my time this way. I see a multitude of Korean signs in my congregation's neighborhood, and I see learning language as a path to hospitality and connection. I suppose it would be beneficial for any immigrant to learn English, but I will attempt to meet them a little closer to where they are toward their destination. A favorite writer Keith Law recommended the Pimsleur method as an anchor for language learning.
I've been working with Pimsleur for 2 weeks, and I get more out of Pimsleur than I have in any other language learning process in my life. I've learned some Danish, French, Spanish, Russian, and reading ability in ancient forms of Greek and Hebrew, but my mental adjustments to Korean are different than any of the languages I have learned before. I'm not learning Korean easily, but appreciate the methodology. I began to understand while taking my 8-year-old daughter to speech therapy. Pimsleur was an applied linguistics and French scholar at UCLA and that his approach was similar to the approach of her speech therapist, whose specialty happens to be applied linguistics.
My daughter has auditory processing problems. She hears sounds well, but the movement from sound, to processing the sound, to speech doesn't work well. With regular speech therapy, she is improving. If the conversation doesn't move as planned, my daughter gets frustrated and the conversation breaks down further. What her speech therapist teaches her through a variety of drills and practical approaches is a growing ability to recover when communication inevitably breaks down (this IS universal). This ability is easily taken for granted, though we know in our own lives that communication breaks down frequently. The ability to recover makes a difference. My daughter learns to recover through speech therapy.
I do something similar using the Pimsleur method. Through its series of drills breaking down the sounds of language in many different combinations, I don't necessarily merely focus on memorizing particular words, but through work with sounds that make up language, I find myself less lost. Our speech therapist says these approaches in therapy and language education are similar, and that we are not being equipped to be perfect with language, but rather that we can recover when communication breaks down.
During my years of interim ministry, I have found no greater lesson. The ability to adjust and recover in during communication break down is far more important than learning to do something perfectly. The goal is to connect. The goal is to share a message. The goal is to build relationships. The goal is to learn. I still like to strive toward perfection to some degree, but frustration over not reaching perfection ends many attempts in life to do something good. I encounter this break down daily--in parenting, in building a household, in marriage, in ministry, in health, in vocation. It remains to be seen whether I will be able to live this out in the many facets of my life, but I have the lesson played out regularly during my trips to speech therapy and Korean language sessions.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Place matters--how do your surroundings affect how you see the world?
How does where you live--culture, environment, physical surroundings and their corresponding relationships affect how you look at the world? How does it affect how you look at faith and congregational life?
My passion for these questions took a sabbatical over the past few years. After living for 20 years in the Midwest, I moved with my family to the Seattle metro, where I grew up before taking off for college and early adulthood. I am thankful for the relationships (where I met my wife), mentoring and opportunity in the Midwest (I lived and worked in rural and urban areas in KS, MN, WI, SD and IA). However, there was always some dissonance about my perceptions (particularly of faith and congregational life).
That dissonance runs both ways. I watched it last night at a grant planning meeting, where my Minnesota-native wife raised a particular point to the group. Someone responded, "is that a Midwest (church) thing?" No, Melanie responded, the congregational cultural attribute was part of her Las Vegas congregation, where she served her internship. She hears this kind of question/response loop in her work with congregations. In the particular expression of Lutheranism in the Pacific Northwest, it is common to hear about the church prowess of the Lutheran Holy Land of the Northern Great Plains (MN, ND, SD, IA), with the implication that the Pacific Northwest expression is somehow inferior. It appears from folk culture to church structure to leadership orientation.
One of my colleagues in South Dakota and I discussed this dissonance of place and perception on occasion. I had perceived that sometimes the Midwestern ethos is connected to a moral superiority. I had collected a series of op-ed pieces and letters to the editor that rejected the values of the West Coast and espoused the life in South Dakota. I was attempting to interpret what was behind that understanding. She responded that a Coastal ethos often depicts a cultural superiority. It was hard to disagree with either observation.
In congregational life the diversity of backgrounds is hard to ignore. For every perception of a degree of homogeneity, there are several divergent variables that affect perceptions and relationships. I remember seminary days with scholars and students who espoused some kind of pure faith and theology where culture didn't matter, and that somehow that pure theology could exist in a vacuum. To say there is a pure Christianity apart from culture reeks of gnosticism, where only insiders get to know and understand the "pure" theology.
Today's reflection was inspired by Kansas native Chris Suellentrop and his thoughts on the Kansas City sports landscape. Maybe you're interested in sports and place. If not, what caught my attention was one particular observation about the intersection of place and life, and one that didn't come from a Midwest outsider like me (if you don't want to read the entire article):
"Combine this romantic, backward-looking vision with the traditional Midwestern delusion that you are more American than the rest of the country, and you're left with a strikingly insular self-conception, a sense that you are in a place in righteous decline."--Chris Suellentrop, grantland.com, 7/7/11
That post re-awakened in me the importance of place as a variable to understanding our relationships with God and one another. It made me think about what it means to be a Lutheran Christian in the United States. Who once lived in the Midwest and married someone from the Midwest. Who loves everything about the geography of the Pacific Northwest (reacquainting myself with this love has distracted me from the deeper questions--they're now back). All of these things affect my relationship and vocation. The question is how? What does it mean?
Place matters. For a person of faith, place matters. The Bible features several stories and reflection about the land--think about the Promised Land. Even buildings receive special billing--the Bible features several stories about building programs. There is lament and hope intertwined with building destruction and reconstruction, and all that goes into the construction and recognition of place.
The question for me about the intersection between place and life is not that it exists, but how and why? What do you think?
My passion for these questions took a sabbatical over the past few years. After living for 20 years in the Midwest, I moved with my family to the Seattle metro, where I grew up before taking off for college and early adulthood. I am thankful for the relationships (where I met my wife), mentoring and opportunity in the Midwest (I lived and worked in rural and urban areas in KS, MN, WI, SD and IA). However, there was always some dissonance about my perceptions (particularly of faith and congregational life).
That dissonance runs both ways. I watched it last night at a grant planning meeting, where my Minnesota-native wife raised a particular point to the group. Someone responded, "is that a Midwest (church) thing?" No, Melanie responded, the congregational cultural attribute was part of her Las Vegas congregation, where she served her internship. She hears this kind of question/response loop in her work with congregations. In the particular expression of Lutheranism in the Pacific Northwest, it is common to hear about the church prowess of the Lutheran Holy Land of the Northern Great Plains (MN, ND, SD, IA), with the implication that the Pacific Northwest expression is somehow inferior. It appears from folk culture to church structure to leadership orientation.
One of my colleagues in South Dakota and I discussed this dissonance of place and perception on occasion. I had perceived that sometimes the Midwestern ethos is connected to a moral superiority. I had collected a series of op-ed pieces and letters to the editor that rejected the values of the West Coast and espoused the life in South Dakota. I was attempting to interpret what was behind that understanding. She responded that a Coastal ethos often depicts a cultural superiority. It was hard to disagree with either observation.
In congregational life the diversity of backgrounds is hard to ignore. For every perception of a degree of homogeneity, there are several divergent variables that affect perceptions and relationships. I remember seminary days with scholars and students who espoused some kind of pure faith and theology where culture didn't matter, and that somehow that pure theology could exist in a vacuum. To say there is a pure Christianity apart from culture reeks of gnosticism, where only insiders get to know and understand the "pure" theology.
Today's reflection was inspired by Kansas native Chris Suellentrop and his thoughts on the Kansas City sports landscape. Maybe you're interested in sports and place. If not, what caught my attention was one particular observation about the intersection of place and life, and one that didn't come from a Midwest outsider like me (if you don't want to read the entire article):
"Combine this romantic, backward-looking vision with the traditional Midwestern delusion that you are more American than the rest of the country, and you're left with a strikingly insular self-conception, a sense that you are in a place in righteous decline."--Chris Suellentrop, grantland.com, 7/7/11
That post re-awakened in me the importance of place as a variable to understanding our relationships with God and one another. It made me think about what it means to be a Lutheran Christian in the United States. Who once lived in the Midwest and married someone from the Midwest. Who loves everything about the geography of the Pacific Northwest (reacquainting myself with this love has distracted me from the deeper questions--they're now back). All of these things affect my relationship and vocation. The question is how? What does it mean?
Place matters. For a person of faith, place matters. The Bible features several stories and reflection about the land--think about the Promised Land. Even buildings receive special billing--the Bible features several stories about building programs. There is lament and hope intertwined with building destruction and reconstruction, and all that goes into the construction and recognition of place.
The question for me about the intersection between place and life is not that it exists, but how and why? What do you think?
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Overrated in Congregational Life: The "Summer Slump Letter"
Some people mark the changing of the seasons by holidays. Some people don't mark the changing of seasons with terms like solstice and equinox, but Memorial Day weekend, the 4th of July, Labor Day, and Easter.
Congregations can mark the changing of the seasons from the giving messages they receive via email or snail mail. You know it's autumn when you receive a letter asking for a pledge in the coming year. You know it's winter when you receive a letter to remind you of your last opportunity to make a tax-deductible donation for the fiscal/tax year. You know summer has arrived when you receive a reminder letter that congregational giving is often down during the summer months and that budget strains are acute during that time. Kennon Callahan called this the "Summer Slump Letter." Forget keeping a calendar or looking at the weather. Look at your mailbox or inbox. You'll know what season it is then. I've seen several Summer Slump letters already this summer. They're a little early this year--the economy must be bad. Slap a Bible verse or a prayer on the end of the plea, mark a season, proclaim deficit awareness, and spiritualize it. There you have the Summer Slump letter.
For many congregations, tight budgets are a way of life. Even for congregations flush with cash from a bequest or a land deal, I have yet to encounter a congregation that doesn't agonize over financial resources in some way (I see congregations flush with cash who fight more than congregations with tight budgets, but that is another story).
After seeing numerous cycles of letters and emails sent to congregational members over the years, congregational coffers should be full of donations, deeply moved and inspired by the letters they receive. These letters have probably been written for several decades. Have they made a difference (please let me know if they have)?
Why bother writing these letters?
Congregational leadership wrangles over the budget during most monthly meetings, if not all of them. Letters send a message that the leadership is not ignoring the tight budget, but doing SOMETHING. It usually makes them feel better, not to mention puffing up their own sense of accomplishment if they are giving themselves. Sometimes congregational leadership will go so far as to scold the congregational members for not giving. How well does scolding go (please let me know if you have a scolding success story)?
Callahan suggests that if there is a summer slump time in the congregation that it has to be planned for throughout the year, not addressed as a surprise occurrence each year. What might be a better approach to addressing a giving trend that is lower during the summer months?
1. Rarely will summer giving dips be adequately addressed during the actual summer months. These trends have to be addressed during the budgeting process, not when resource issues reach panic levels.
2. Some assumptions about congregational giving must be released. New members do not mean more money for a congregation, in fact, new members will probably mean resources will become even more strained. The new member + new member = more money fallacy is rooted in a notion that a congregation is the center of a given culture. With that in mind consider the next point.
3. Giving is based on a relationship. My late grandmother gave to ministries when she connected with the television preacher or Bible study leader. I didn't necessarily like how or to whom she gave, but the television ministry connected with her faithfully and regularly, more than even her own family. Even with a television, a kind of personal connection is made. How much better a connection is made when congregational leaders facilitate intentional, face to face communication with a listening posture? With a letter, nothing is learned about the recipient. A face to face meeting, though labor and time intensive, provides learning beyond measure. Face to face meetings are opportunities to learn about what God is doing through that person and how that activity can be shared with the body of Christ. Face to face communication is a high risk, high reward venture.
I invite you to share your wisdom about summer slumps or any other giving season issues you would like to discuss.
Do you know what season it is in your congregation? Check your inbox or mailbox--the overrated Summer Slump letter may be there.
Congregations can mark the changing of the seasons from the giving messages they receive via email or snail mail. You know it's autumn when you receive a letter asking for a pledge in the coming year. You know it's winter when you receive a letter to remind you of your last opportunity to make a tax-deductible donation for the fiscal/tax year. You know summer has arrived when you receive a reminder letter that congregational giving is often down during the summer months and that budget strains are acute during that time. Kennon Callahan called this the "Summer Slump Letter." Forget keeping a calendar or looking at the weather. Look at your mailbox or inbox. You'll know what season it is then. I've seen several Summer Slump letters already this summer. They're a little early this year--the economy must be bad. Slap a Bible verse or a prayer on the end of the plea, mark a season, proclaim deficit awareness, and spiritualize it. There you have the Summer Slump letter.
For many congregations, tight budgets are a way of life. Even for congregations flush with cash from a bequest or a land deal, I have yet to encounter a congregation that doesn't agonize over financial resources in some way (I see congregations flush with cash who fight more than congregations with tight budgets, but that is another story).
After seeing numerous cycles of letters and emails sent to congregational members over the years, congregational coffers should be full of donations, deeply moved and inspired by the letters they receive. These letters have probably been written for several decades. Have they made a difference (please let me know if they have)?
Why bother writing these letters?
Congregational leadership wrangles over the budget during most monthly meetings, if not all of them. Letters send a message that the leadership is not ignoring the tight budget, but doing SOMETHING. It usually makes them feel better, not to mention puffing up their own sense of accomplishment if they are giving themselves. Sometimes congregational leadership will go so far as to scold the congregational members for not giving. How well does scolding go (please let me know if you have a scolding success story)?
Callahan suggests that if there is a summer slump time in the congregation that it has to be planned for throughout the year, not addressed as a surprise occurrence each year. What might be a better approach to addressing a giving trend that is lower during the summer months?
1. Rarely will summer giving dips be adequately addressed during the actual summer months. These trends have to be addressed during the budgeting process, not when resource issues reach panic levels.
2. Some assumptions about congregational giving must be released. New members do not mean more money for a congregation, in fact, new members will probably mean resources will become even more strained. The new member + new member = more money fallacy is rooted in a notion that a congregation is the center of a given culture. With that in mind consider the next point.
3. Giving is based on a relationship. My late grandmother gave to ministries when she connected with the television preacher or Bible study leader. I didn't necessarily like how or to whom she gave, but the television ministry connected with her faithfully and regularly, more than even her own family. Even with a television, a kind of personal connection is made. How much better a connection is made when congregational leaders facilitate intentional, face to face communication with a listening posture? With a letter, nothing is learned about the recipient. A face to face meeting, though labor and time intensive, provides learning beyond measure. Face to face meetings are opportunities to learn about what God is doing through that person and how that activity can be shared with the body of Christ. Face to face communication is a high risk, high reward venture.
I invite you to share your wisdom about summer slumps or any other giving season issues you would like to discuss.
Do you know what season it is in your congregation? Check your inbox or mailbox--the overrated Summer Slump letter may be there.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Imagining small church mission
What does it mean to be part of a small church?
This week, I began service as the pastor of St. John's Lutheran Church in Lakewood, Washington. St. John's is a gathering of approximately 40 people in Sunday morning worship. By almost any definition, St. John's is a small church. My small church experience is a small portion of my life with congregations.
1. I served an interim ministry at New Life Lutheran Church in Sergeant Bluff, Iowa, a community at the time of about 40 people in worship.
2. I served an interim ministry at a three-point parish in Lyman County, South Dakota. One of the congregations was distinctly small in Kennebec, the congregations in Vivian and Presho could be large enough to classify differently.
From experience, observation and study, here are the small church thoughts in my mind. I am taking an inventory of small church experiences. It should also be noted that as an interim pastor, I never lived in a small church community. There was always an understanding that I had relational access to people's lives, yet remained an outsider.
Congregational size is not the only variable of consequence. Region, denomination, judicatory, education and other variables can enter the discussion, but the focus of this reflection involves what I have gathered about small churches.
1. Often the small church is described with a sense of "plight." The small church is depicted in church circles as suffering or in disarray. Both seem to be associated with suburban migration of the mid- to late- 20th century; a migration that dwindled the size of both urban and rural congregations. The plight is that resources to fund urban or rural congregations fades as people leave, much like other urban and rural social institutions. Small churches can still thrive, I believe, but it also depends on the shared definition of what thriving means.
2. Power in small congregations must flow through the matriarchs and/or patriarchs of the congregation. Several decades ago, Arlin Rothauge published a short book on congregational size dynamics and named the 0-50 worship attendance congregation as a "family" church. Rothauge's observations have been parsed in congregations and church leadership circles for the better part of three decades. In this size of congregation, the members are often highly invested and see pastors come and go for many different reasons (see #3).
3. Pastoral leadership in small congregations often exists in a state of flux. Small congregations often cannot afford a full-time pastor, or an experienced pastor, because the salary levels cannot support clergy with a family living at home, or a pastor carrying large amounts of student loan debt. With pastors coming and going quickly, congregations develop a pattern of behavior where they can "wait out" the pastor and all of that particular pastor's ideas for ministry if they don't care for them.
4. In a small congregation, everyone knows everyone else. So the proverb goes--but I think this is a bit of a myth or euphemism for an intimacy that cannot be assumed. There may be a higher degree of familiarity among members/worshiper in small congregations than large congregations, but that does not necessarily reflect a depth of relationship.
5. What a small church needs is to replicate what is done at a large congregation. Reading a favorite blog, Church Marketing Sucks (CMS), I was reminded of how easily the replication notion is perpetuated. Large churches have the resources to share their experience, wisdom and knowledge with others. They share that information with pastors and congregations, and the small congregations often end up feeling inferior about what God is doing among them. As someone who has served both small and large congregations, this is not intentional, but it still goes on. Frustration continues to mount about good leadership resources for small congregations. The blog post from CMS reminded me about small-large congregation leadership dynamic.
In the end, what seems to matter is that people in a congregation can imagine a unique sense of mission independent of the aforementioned factors. This does not mean God's mission is lived in a vacuum. On the contrary, I think the question related to the Parable of the Good Samaritan is operative, "And who is my neighbor?" We need to know something about our neighbor in order to share good news in Christ.
Who is God? What is God doing? Who is my neighbor? I still have much to learn about small churches and the small church I am serving, but I need to remember these questions, and I look forward to addressing these questions with people in the community.
This week, I began service as the pastor of St. John's Lutheran Church in Lakewood, Washington. St. John's is a gathering of approximately 40 people in Sunday morning worship. By almost any definition, St. John's is a small church. My small church experience is a small portion of my life with congregations.
1. I served an interim ministry at New Life Lutheran Church in Sergeant Bluff, Iowa, a community at the time of about 40 people in worship.
2. I served an interim ministry at a three-point parish in Lyman County, South Dakota. One of the congregations was distinctly small in Kennebec, the congregations in Vivian and Presho could be large enough to classify differently.
From experience, observation and study, here are the small church thoughts in my mind. I am taking an inventory of small church experiences. It should also be noted that as an interim pastor, I never lived in a small church community. There was always an understanding that I had relational access to people's lives, yet remained an outsider.
Congregational size is not the only variable of consequence. Region, denomination, judicatory, education and other variables can enter the discussion, but the focus of this reflection involves what I have gathered about small churches.
1. Often the small church is described with a sense of "plight." The small church is depicted in church circles as suffering or in disarray. Both seem to be associated with suburban migration of the mid- to late- 20th century; a migration that dwindled the size of both urban and rural congregations. The plight is that resources to fund urban or rural congregations fades as people leave, much like other urban and rural social institutions. Small churches can still thrive, I believe, but it also depends on the shared definition of what thriving means.
2. Power in small congregations must flow through the matriarchs and/or patriarchs of the congregation. Several decades ago, Arlin Rothauge published a short book on congregational size dynamics and named the 0-50 worship attendance congregation as a "family" church. Rothauge's observations have been parsed in congregations and church leadership circles for the better part of three decades. In this size of congregation, the members are often highly invested and see pastors come and go for many different reasons (see #3).
3. Pastoral leadership in small congregations often exists in a state of flux. Small congregations often cannot afford a full-time pastor, or an experienced pastor, because the salary levels cannot support clergy with a family living at home, or a pastor carrying large amounts of student loan debt. With pastors coming and going quickly, congregations develop a pattern of behavior where they can "wait out" the pastor and all of that particular pastor's ideas for ministry if they don't care for them.
4. In a small congregation, everyone knows everyone else. So the proverb goes--but I think this is a bit of a myth or euphemism for an intimacy that cannot be assumed. There may be a higher degree of familiarity among members/worshiper in small congregations than large congregations, but that does not necessarily reflect a depth of relationship.
5. What a small church needs is to replicate what is done at a large congregation. Reading a favorite blog, Church Marketing Sucks (CMS), I was reminded of how easily the replication notion is perpetuated. Large churches have the resources to share their experience, wisdom and knowledge with others. They share that information with pastors and congregations, and the small congregations often end up feeling inferior about what God is doing among them. As someone who has served both small and large congregations, this is not intentional, but it still goes on. Frustration continues to mount about good leadership resources for small congregations. The blog post from CMS reminded me about small-large congregation leadership dynamic.
In the end, what seems to matter is that people in a congregation can imagine a unique sense of mission independent of the aforementioned factors. This does not mean God's mission is lived in a vacuum. On the contrary, I think the question related to the Parable of the Good Samaritan is operative, "And who is my neighbor?" We need to know something about our neighbor in order to share good news in Christ.
Who is God? What is God doing? Who is my neighbor? I still have much to learn about small churches and the small church I am serving, but I need to remember these questions, and I look forward to addressing these questions with people in the community.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Navigating debt and gratitude: a student loan milestone
June, 1988
May, 1993
May, 1998
These months and years mark the time I graduated from high school, college and seminary, respectively. None of these education milestones have caused me to look back and look ahead like the date of May 26th, 2011. That is the date that Sallie Mae congratulated me in a letter on the status of my student loans becoming "paid in full."
Debt (both financial and in general) is an odd concept. After a societal combination of love affair and ignorance of financial debt for decades, it's falling out of favor. However, debt is never an end in itself and becomes a path to some opportunities. Regardless of your perspective on debt (and there are many), as a pastor I know debt and shame are inextricably linked (I feel a strange sense of vulnerability even writing this post). I've hosted several classes at the congregations I serve where debt is a topic of learning and discussion, and the fear and shame related to debt is palpable. Though I'm not proud of the student loan debt accumulated in my late teens and through most of my twenties, there is also an curious connection to debt and gratitude. In paying off my student loans, I remember some of the people and systems that knit gratitude in my being in the midst of something sometimes shame-ridden.
It's one thing to earn a diploma and degrees through the generosity of others and personal perseverance; it's another thing to finance it. I don't have many degree holders in my family, but many of them thought it was important that I have an education and that I have many opportunities. Though my family could not pay for my entire education, they helped along the way.
My family came to visit me at the Univeristy of Kansas and Minnesota State University-Mankato, places where I wanted to go, 1800 miles away from home. They offered encouragement. Mom and Dad and Grandparents gave me hugs in person and from afar, with checks and cash in them. They scraped money together so I could learn and grow.
Friends and their families took me in. The Volansky Family in St. Louis gave me a home away from home, even after I left the University of Kansas. If I couldn't get to the Seattle Metro, if I could just get to St. Louis, I was treated like a brother or son.
When I married Melanie, I saw that she was wonderfully responsible with an amazing work ethic. Her education cost more than mine (she graduated from Augustana College in Sioux Falls, South Dakota), yet she worked her way through seminary and carried smaller amounts of debt. When we were married, my student loan debt became our student loan debt. She was gracious, loving, generous and persistent so that we would pay off that debt.
Something I learned after my education was that legislators along the line created a subsidy so that I carried only a partial burden of the interest. The plethora of perspectives about federal subsidies for student loan debt still make my head spin both in macro and micro frames of reference, but it's possible that without those subsidies, I would still be paying off the debt.
Professors and teachers often work at a substandard wage because they love to make the learning connection with their students. My respect for my teachers overflows; I am in awe of their gifts and generosity.
Every so often in my student mailbox at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota, I received a blank thank you card addressed to a seminary donor. I was asked to write in that thank you card for the seminary donor. Though many pastors who served many more years than me remember a day when seminary tuition was minimal, I learned in thank you card writing how many people faithfully gave in order to finance my theological education. I spent numerous dollars. In the big picture, people who knew nothing of me but my desire to learn more about God, church and service, contributed so that I could be equipped to be a pastor.
Both my home congregation of youth, Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd in Olympia, WA, and Lutheran Campus Ministry at Minnesota State University-Mankato, pulled together resources to support my theological education.
I probably forgot a few people and systems, but that is not intentional.
(Added 1:33pm Pacific--I did forget)
Judicatories are also working to address student loan debt. The South Dakota Synod (ELCA) set up a fund that made multiple debt payments on my student loans during my 8.5 years of service there. They recognized that many Lutheran congregations in South Dakota may not be able to pay a wage that could knock out student loan debt effectively. I hope that fund has grown and gained a wider scope. It helped me, and I am thankful.
Recently I was reminded about razor sharp edges of education, ministry, debt, shame, pain and opportunity at Unconference11, a gathering of people passionate about the life of the church. I heard several conversations and frustrations about student debt. I know the woven feelings of frustration, shame and gratitude intimately. I live(d) in the moccasins of the indebted. Without getting too happy as to depict glibness, I wanted to let my new friends and colleagues know that it was possible to be a pastor who survived student loan debt. Regardless of how education is financed, collective sacrifice is necessary. How that happens in detail, I'm not sure. I take this milestone of "paid in full" as an opportunity to live in gratitude. At least in the life of the church, we can wrangle about economic, theological and ecclesial philosophies and applications about debt and education, but gratitude is the best compass for navigation.
May, 1993
May, 1998
These months and years mark the time I graduated from high school, college and seminary, respectively. None of these education milestones have caused me to look back and look ahead like the date of May 26th, 2011. That is the date that Sallie Mae congratulated me in a letter on the status of my student loans becoming "paid in full."
Debt (both financial and in general) is an odd concept. After a societal combination of love affair and ignorance of financial debt for decades, it's falling out of favor. However, debt is never an end in itself and becomes a path to some opportunities. Regardless of your perspective on debt (and there are many), as a pastor I know debt and shame are inextricably linked (I feel a strange sense of vulnerability even writing this post). I've hosted several classes at the congregations I serve where debt is a topic of learning and discussion, and the fear and shame related to debt is palpable. Though I'm not proud of the student loan debt accumulated in my late teens and through most of my twenties, there is also an curious connection to debt and gratitude. In paying off my student loans, I remember some of the people and systems that knit gratitude in my being in the midst of something sometimes shame-ridden.
It's one thing to earn a diploma and degrees through the generosity of others and personal perseverance; it's another thing to finance it. I don't have many degree holders in my family, but many of them thought it was important that I have an education and that I have many opportunities. Though my family could not pay for my entire education, they helped along the way.
My family came to visit me at the Univeristy of Kansas and Minnesota State University-Mankato, places where I wanted to go, 1800 miles away from home. They offered encouragement. Mom and Dad and Grandparents gave me hugs in person and from afar, with checks and cash in them. They scraped money together so I could learn and grow.
Friends and their families took me in. The Volansky Family in St. Louis gave me a home away from home, even after I left the University of Kansas. If I couldn't get to the Seattle Metro, if I could just get to St. Louis, I was treated like a brother or son.
When I married Melanie, I saw that she was wonderfully responsible with an amazing work ethic. Her education cost more than mine (she graduated from Augustana College in Sioux Falls, South Dakota), yet she worked her way through seminary and carried smaller amounts of debt. When we were married, my student loan debt became our student loan debt. She was gracious, loving, generous and persistent so that we would pay off that debt.
Something I learned after my education was that legislators along the line created a subsidy so that I carried only a partial burden of the interest. The plethora of perspectives about federal subsidies for student loan debt still make my head spin both in macro and micro frames of reference, but it's possible that without those subsidies, I would still be paying off the debt.
Professors and teachers often work at a substandard wage because they love to make the learning connection with their students. My respect for my teachers overflows; I am in awe of their gifts and generosity.
Every so often in my student mailbox at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota, I received a blank thank you card addressed to a seminary donor. I was asked to write in that thank you card for the seminary donor. Though many pastors who served many more years than me remember a day when seminary tuition was minimal, I learned in thank you card writing how many people faithfully gave in order to finance my theological education. I spent numerous dollars. In the big picture, people who knew nothing of me but my desire to learn more about God, church and service, contributed so that I could be equipped to be a pastor.
Both my home congregation of youth, Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd in Olympia, WA, and Lutheran Campus Ministry at Minnesota State University-Mankato, pulled together resources to support my theological education.
I probably forgot a few people and systems, but that is not intentional.
(Added 1:33pm Pacific--I did forget)
Judicatories are also working to address student loan debt. The South Dakota Synod (ELCA) set up a fund that made multiple debt payments on my student loans during my 8.5 years of service there. They recognized that many Lutheran congregations in South Dakota may not be able to pay a wage that could knock out student loan debt effectively. I hope that fund has grown and gained a wider scope. It helped me, and I am thankful.
Recently I was reminded about razor sharp edges of education, ministry, debt, shame, pain and opportunity at Unconference11, a gathering of people passionate about the life of the church. I heard several conversations and frustrations about student debt. I know the woven feelings of frustration, shame and gratitude intimately. I live(d) in the moccasins of the indebted. Without getting too happy as to depict glibness, I wanted to let my new friends and colleagues know that it was possible to be a pastor who survived student loan debt. Regardless of how education is financed, collective sacrifice is necessary. How that happens in detail, I'm not sure. I take this milestone of "paid in full" as an opportunity to live in gratitude. At least in the life of the church, we can wrangle about economic, theological and ecclesial philosophies and applications about debt and education, but gratitude is the best compass for navigation.
Friday, May 20, 2011
The Interpretive Challenge of Unconference11
Human life in this age places value on experience. Each experience elicits a degree of response. A television program can be watched with varied responses. The responses can be laid out on a continuum. Some responses offer a short shelf-life: "can you believe that American Idol vote last night?" Each episode will only be dissected for so long for some. For others, the episode may accumulate with others and inspire a vocal performance career.
Any experience offers an opportunity for interpretation. I have attended numerous continuing education events over the years. Each learning experience, though varied in content, offered a very similar structure. A speaker/teacher of great repute travels and meets traveling participants for a provision of information. It's like I back my empty informational truck into a dock for a load of information. Though the content may be complex, the transaction is simple. I pay money. I receive information. I receive a binder or folder full of notes and handouts I will not likely crack open again. I receive a Power Point file attached to an email that clogs a memory stick or sits on my hard drive. I may have more information, but the information nourishes my body as if I attempted nourishment by swallowing a palm full of vitamins without eating any food. The intake at a conference may hold nutritive qualities, but the information isn't sticky. The typical workshop/conference/symposium in church circles fails the stickiness test. My library is a testimony to this observation. I store many binders with hope of using the material again, yet I often don't. This failure doesn't speak to the quality of the information, but the context in which it was delivered. Every educational experience challenges the participant to interpret the information to their own context. Conference hosts over the years have recognized that more people from each context increases the stickiness of the information (Bring a group! Save money! Broaden the application!) but the methodology still lacks the stickiness necessary for integration.
Unconference11 was a powerful experience for me. Not only because it represented a spiritual milestone for me, but because there was something incarnational about it. Fleshy and sticky. There was not only information shared, but relationships were graciously hosted with God and others. Every participant was given the opportunity to contribute and be respected. This is not what usually comes out of a conference. The ethos of a typical conference resembles a rock concert. If only you can get close to the star, get a backstage pass, some of that star quality might rub off into your context.
Last night I ate dinner with good friends who, like me have attended numerous conferences and workshops. They know the routine. Talk about the greatness of the speaker, the cutting edge discovery or technique, the idea that will change our contexts. I realized last night that I couldn't explain the experience in the same way that I have explained other learning events covering about 20 years of my life.
The challenge of interpreting Unconference11 remains. What will matter in these weeks ahead? First of all, I gathered with a small group of folks passionate about subversive and new ministry developments. I hope to resource this group of people as I enter into a trajectory of ministry new to me. I am thankful for that opportunity. Most of all, the interpretive challenge of Unco11 will not be whether I can share what exactly I learned and experienced among friends. I was respected. I was valued. I was given the opportunity to contribute both truth and beauty. I was healed and loved. No "conference" I have ever attended has done that. My inclination is that though my work and life in the church looks a lot like the conferences I have attended for 20 years--a lot of vitamins, but no nourishment. The interpretive challenge is not that I can replicate Unco11 in my context, but whether in my context I can share in the work of healing, respect, love and creativity. This sounds a lot like Jesus to me.
Any experience offers an opportunity for interpretation. I have attended numerous continuing education events over the years. Each learning experience, though varied in content, offered a very similar structure. A speaker/teacher of great repute travels and meets traveling participants for a provision of information. It's like I back my empty informational truck into a dock for a load of information. Though the content may be complex, the transaction is simple. I pay money. I receive information. I receive a binder or folder full of notes and handouts I will not likely crack open again. I receive a Power Point file attached to an email that clogs a memory stick or sits on my hard drive. I may have more information, but the information nourishes my body as if I attempted nourishment by swallowing a palm full of vitamins without eating any food. The intake at a conference may hold nutritive qualities, but the information isn't sticky. The typical workshop/conference/symposium in church circles fails the stickiness test. My library is a testimony to this observation. I store many binders with hope of using the material again, yet I often don't. This failure doesn't speak to the quality of the information, but the context in which it was delivered. Every educational experience challenges the participant to interpret the information to their own context. Conference hosts over the years have recognized that more people from each context increases the stickiness of the information (Bring a group! Save money! Broaden the application!) but the methodology still lacks the stickiness necessary for integration.
Unconference11 was a powerful experience for me. Not only because it represented a spiritual milestone for me, but because there was something incarnational about it. Fleshy and sticky. There was not only information shared, but relationships were graciously hosted with God and others. Every participant was given the opportunity to contribute and be respected. This is not what usually comes out of a conference. The ethos of a typical conference resembles a rock concert. If only you can get close to the star, get a backstage pass, some of that star quality might rub off into your context.
Last night I ate dinner with good friends who, like me have attended numerous conferences and workshops. They know the routine. Talk about the greatness of the speaker, the cutting edge discovery or technique, the idea that will change our contexts. I realized last night that I couldn't explain the experience in the same way that I have explained other learning events covering about 20 years of my life.
The challenge of interpreting Unconference11 remains. What will matter in these weeks ahead? First of all, I gathered with a small group of folks passionate about subversive and new ministry developments. I hope to resource this group of people as I enter into a trajectory of ministry new to me. I am thankful for that opportunity. Most of all, the interpretive challenge of Unco11 will not be whether I can share what exactly I learned and experienced among friends. I was respected. I was valued. I was given the opportunity to contribute both truth and beauty. I was healed and loved. No "conference" I have ever attended has done that. My inclination is that though my work and life in the church looks a lot like the conferences I have attended for 20 years--a lot of vitamins, but no nourishment. The interpretive challenge is not that I can replicate Unco11 in my context, but whether in my context I can share in the work of healing, respect, love and creativity. This sounds a lot like Jesus to me.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Unconference11--a gathering of ideas and a ministry of encouragement--my story
At the opening worship for Unconference11, one of our leaders asked us what do we bring to this gathering? What do we have to offer?
This is a good question. For over a year I have planned to attend Unco11. It represents an odyssey for me, through developmental challenges for my daughter and all of the changes that represents in my family life, vocational discernment, and what it means to have friends and colleagues during this season of my life. Before my daughter's diagnosis in 2006, I was heavily involved in continuing education and colleague groups. That participation ground to a halt. My family needed more focus. The window for our daughter to thrive was one that required specific attention. So that is what Melanie and I did. It is always our life that we do this for our families, but this was particular. We are at a place where we are confident in our ability to care for our daughter. It is time to reconnect. Unco11 represents that for me.
What do I have to offer? It may sound simple--but I can offer encouragement to others. I also came to be encouraged. It is in that space of encouragement that God is present. One might think that a gathering related to the church is supposed to be encouraging. But it is rare. I have been to numerous gatherings of church folk over the years, and I may have learned things, but the Spirit to implement that learning was lost in a sea of handouts and notes. Lost in the work of control freaks and egomaniacs, of which I was sometimes (and still can be) one. Observing the folks (mostly via Twitter #unco11) and Spirit who birthed the Unconference I saw a place of encouragement and learning that didn't rely on or assume old pedagogy. Plus, the use of technology and social media are used without suspicion.
I am very pleased with my investment in this gathering. I have intentionally encouraged others, and I have been encouraged. I am thankful for the many hours of labor invested so that I may experience Christ's presence.
I am still processing the discussions, and that may come with a later post. If you are looking to find a company of encouragement centered on a discussion of what we can collectively and individually offer to the life of the church, keep your eyes open for the next gathering of Unco!
This is a good question. For over a year I have planned to attend Unco11. It represents an odyssey for me, through developmental challenges for my daughter and all of the changes that represents in my family life, vocational discernment, and what it means to have friends and colleagues during this season of my life. Before my daughter's diagnosis in 2006, I was heavily involved in continuing education and colleague groups. That participation ground to a halt. My family needed more focus. The window for our daughter to thrive was one that required specific attention. So that is what Melanie and I did. It is always our life that we do this for our families, but this was particular. We are at a place where we are confident in our ability to care for our daughter. It is time to reconnect. Unco11 represents that for me.
What do I have to offer? It may sound simple--but I can offer encouragement to others. I also came to be encouraged. It is in that space of encouragement that God is present. One might think that a gathering related to the church is supposed to be encouraging. But it is rare. I have been to numerous gatherings of church folk over the years, and I may have learned things, but the Spirit to implement that learning was lost in a sea of handouts and notes. Lost in the work of control freaks and egomaniacs, of which I was sometimes (and still can be) one. Observing the folks (mostly via Twitter #unco11) and Spirit who birthed the Unconference I saw a place of encouragement and learning that didn't rely on or assume old pedagogy. Plus, the use of technology and social media are used without suspicion.
I am very pleased with my investment in this gathering. I have intentionally encouraged others, and I have been encouraged. I am thankful for the many hours of labor invested so that I may experience Christ's presence.
I am still processing the discussions, and that may come with a later post. If you are looking to find a company of encouragement centered on a discussion of what we can collectively and individually offer to the life of the church, keep your eyes open for the next gathering of Unco!
Monday, May 9, 2011
Another untimely review: Conviction
What am I willing to sacrifice in order to pursue a life passion? Does a life passion take on a different scope if that passion is a family member?
At one point in the film Conviction, Betty Anne Waters (Hilary Swank) has been advocating and fighting for her brother (Sam Rockwell), convicted of murder for nearly two decades. She sacrificed her marriage (it ended in divorce) and nearly gave up her relationships with her children in order to prove her brother was wrongly convicted. Waters graduated from law school and passed the bar in order to serve as her brother's council for his murder case. She went through well over a decade without a friend, except for a fellow law student (Minnie Driver) who doggedly befriended Waters and endured Waters' tireless work and persistence in obtaining anything that could help her brother. In a conversation with her two teenage sons, one of the sons states that Betty had given up her live to save Uncle Kenny. Waters paused, looked at her son incredulously, as if the concept of sacrifice never crossed her mind.
The title of the film is a perfect play on words and a deep reflection on the nature of passion. Surely, it is a good story about the pitfalls of any justice system, but for me this was a film about the relationship between conviction and passion. Waters was depicted as someone who did not see herself as passionate or one who sacrificed. The other question that came up in conversation about the story with my wife was whether Waters' relationship with her brother was unhealthy. This was a sibling pair who could be analyzed in psychological parlance as "fused," rooted in growing up together in an abusive household. I wonder if Waters (as she is depicted) is a Christ-like figure. Christians for centuries have written, taught and preached to fellow Christians and the world that we should reflect and embody Christ's "sacrifice" for humanity. I am not a Christian proponent of a sacrificial Christology. The sacrificial nomenclature is hard to escape in the Bible and Christian theology, and I though I don't wholeheartedly reject it, I don't embrace it.
Looking into the character of Waters and her (loving? obsessing?) pursuit of securing the freedom of her brother, I can't help but think of Jesus. In my limited knowledge of the Bible and theology, I can't recall anyone who bothered to ask Jesus whether he believed that his death was a sacrifice to him (and I would be glad to learn from my readers where I could find further reading on this topic) or whether theology has bothered to ask the question about the nature of sacrifice as it relates to love. In addition, how is a sacrifice beneficial (or even loving) to a relationship if the person who made the sacrifice for the "sake of the relationship" has to constantly remind the other person that they made the sacrifice in the first place?
Over the years in my life of Christian faith, I've been asked to accept the idea of Christ's sacrifice at face value, that I had better appreciate it and think about it to the point of guilt and shame. Only then will I have faith. Until my work with my theological education teachers (mostly Pat Keifert and Walter Sundberg at Luther Seminary) I had not considered the multiple dimensions of sacrifice in the Christian faith and theological discourse. Conviction serves as a reminder of the multiple dimensions of understanding sacrifices and relationships. There's plenty of guilt and shame to go around in the world, and I am thankful for the love and grace I have received in the body of Christ. Many have lovingly given in more ways than I can count so that I may have a better life (did they always see it as a sacrifice?). Watching Conviction offered me some new questions and insights to the interplay of love, justice, sacrifice, guilt and relationships. It wasn't a sacrifice for me to give up four dollars and two hours to watch the film.
At one point in the film Conviction, Betty Anne Waters (Hilary Swank) has been advocating and fighting for her brother (Sam Rockwell), convicted of murder for nearly two decades. She sacrificed her marriage (it ended in divorce) and nearly gave up her relationships with her children in order to prove her brother was wrongly convicted. Waters graduated from law school and passed the bar in order to serve as her brother's council for his murder case. She went through well over a decade without a friend, except for a fellow law student (Minnie Driver) who doggedly befriended Waters and endured Waters' tireless work and persistence in obtaining anything that could help her brother. In a conversation with her two teenage sons, one of the sons states that Betty had given up her live to save Uncle Kenny. Waters paused, looked at her son incredulously, as if the concept of sacrifice never crossed her mind.
The title of the film is a perfect play on words and a deep reflection on the nature of passion. Surely, it is a good story about the pitfalls of any justice system, but for me this was a film about the relationship between conviction and passion. Waters was depicted as someone who did not see herself as passionate or one who sacrificed. The other question that came up in conversation about the story with my wife was whether Waters' relationship with her brother was unhealthy. This was a sibling pair who could be analyzed in psychological parlance as "fused," rooted in growing up together in an abusive household. I wonder if Waters (as she is depicted) is a Christ-like figure. Christians for centuries have written, taught and preached to fellow Christians and the world that we should reflect and embody Christ's "sacrifice" for humanity. I am not a Christian proponent of a sacrificial Christology. The sacrificial nomenclature is hard to escape in the Bible and Christian theology, and I though I don't wholeheartedly reject it, I don't embrace it.
Looking into the character of Waters and her (loving? obsessing?) pursuit of securing the freedom of her brother, I can't help but think of Jesus. In my limited knowledge of the Bible and theology, I can't recall anyone who bothered to ask Jesus whether he believed that his death was a sacrifice to him (and I would be glad to learn from my readers where I could find further reading on this topic) or whether theology has bothered to ask the question about the nature of sacrifice as it relates to love. In addition, how is a sacrifice beneficial (or even loving) to a relationship if the person who made the sacrifice for the "sake of the relationship" has to constantly remind the other person that they made the sacrifice in the first place?
Over the years in my life of Christian faith, I've been asked to accept the idea of Christ's sacrifice at face value, that I had better appreciate it and think about it to the point of guilt and shame. Only then will I have faith. Until my work with my theological education teachers (mostly Pat Keifert and Walter Sundberg at Luther Seminary) I had not considered the multiple dimensions of sacrifice in the Christian faith and theological discourse. Conviction serves as a reminder of the multiple dimensions of understanding sacrifices and relationships. There's plenty of guilt and shame to go around in the world, and I am thankful for the love and grace I have received in the body of Christ. Many have lovingly given in more ways than I can count so that I may have a better life (did they always see it as a sacrifice?). Watching Conviction offered me some new questions and insights to the interplay of love, justice, sacrifice, guilt and relationships. It wasn't a sacrifice for me to give up four dollars and two hours to watch the film.
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.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Using the tools of the communication trade
My father was never much of a fix-it guy. We didn't have many tools lying around the house. Not much tinkering with cars or small engines or household appliances in my boyhood home. No spare bolts, wires or springs. I've used enough hand and power tools in shop class and through experimentation to get by. I don't necessarily enjoy using tools, but I appreciate the ability to use them.
My stocked tool box relates to congregational ministry, and I love to find tools to help me navigate, learn, and connect relationally. I've been picking up as many tools as I am able since 1998. Some tools I use more than others. My favorite tools recently relate to social media--blogging, Twitter and Facebook. I'm encouraged about what is possible through these tools. What is different about these tools is the open access--so many of the other tools I've used over the years require significant amounts of hours and resources of training and other start-up costs. Then the materials sit on a shelf, to be used rarely again, if ever at all.
I've been frustrated to see that the use of social media to connect is in limited use--at least in comparison with some of our Full Communion partners in the ELCA. I especially find PCUSA folk all over social media: Rev. Bruce Reyes-Chow, while serving as Moderator of the 218th General Assembly, offered important leadership concerning the use of technology for the church. I am in full agreement with him about blogging as a spiritual practice, appreciate his presence on Twitter, and his thought-provoking work with Carol Howard Merritt on their podcast God Complex Radio. I'm looking forward to gathering with many of these folks who take seriously their communication methodology of many different backgrounds (and hoping for a few more ELCA people) at Unconference 2011 in May.
My contention is not that the church will be "saved" by technology (I'll stick with Jesus), but these tools are as important to connecting people with God and one another as much as the telephone, sound amplification, and the printing press. Communication tools provide access and make the priesthood of all believers a more tangible reality than mere words. Social media encompasses several useful communication tools. Social media also happens to be where the Digital Natives communicate and congregate. Jesus went where the people were; he made few references to going to the house of worship. So I'm going to go where the people are.
I'm not making any revolutionary statements here, but it's what I've been thinking about, sometimes keeping me up at night. I'm reaching out to my colleagues and sisters and brothers in Christ (especially in the Pacific Northwest and the West Coast) in 20th Century-Brand Protestant churches (formerly known as Mainline Protestants) to gather our congregations out here to help teach the tools of communication. A conference, a webinar, a podcast, a traveling road show, a workshop--I don't care. I want to partner with some of my colleagues in the Pacific Northwest and serve others and use the tools available to all of us. I look forward to your ideas and feedback.
Not only are these tools for communication building the new front door to being church, but in many ways, they already are church.
My stocked tool box relates to congregational ministry, and I love to find tools to help me navigate, learn, and connect relationally. I've been picking up as many tools as I am able since 1998. Some tools I use more than others. My favorite tools recently relate to social media--blogging, Twitter and Facebook. I'm encouraged about what is possible through these tools. What is different about these tools is the open access--so many of the other tools I've used over the years require significant amounts of hours and resources of training and other start-up costs. Then the materials sit on a shelf, to be used rarely again, if ever at all.
I've been frustrated to see that the use of social media to connect is in limited use--at least in comparison with some of our Full Communion partners in the ELCA. I especially find PCUSA folk all over social media: Rev. Bruce Reyes-Chow, while serving as Moderator of the 218th General Assembly, offered important leadership concerning the use of technology for the church. I am in full agreement with him about blogging as a spiritual practice, appreciate his presence on Twitter, and his thought-provoking work with Carol Howard Merritt on their podcast God Complex Radio. I'm looking forward to gathering with many of these folks who take seriously their communication methodology of many different backgrounds (and hoping for a few more ELCA people) at Unconference 2011 in May.
My contention is not that the church will be "saved" by technology (I'll stick with Jesus), but these tools are as important to connecting people with God and one another as much as the telephone, sound amplification, and the printing press. Communication tools provide access and make the priesthood of all believers a more tangible reality than mere words. Social media encompasses several useful communication tools. Social media also happens to be where the Digital Natives communicate and congregate. Jesus went where the people were; he made few references to going to the house of worship. So I'm going to go where the people are.
I'm not making any revolutionary statements here, but it's what I've been thinking about, sometimes keeping me up at night. I'm reaching out to my colleagues and sisters and brothers in Christ (especially in the Pacific Northwest and the West Coast) in 20th Century-Brand Protestant churches (formerly known as Mainline Protestants) to gather our congregations out here to help teach the tools of communication. A conference, a webinar, a podcast, a traveling road show, a workshop--I don't care. I want to partner with some of my colleagues in the Pacific Northwest and serve others and use the tools available to all of us. I look forward to your ideas and feedback.
Not only are these tools for communication building the new front door to being church, but in many ways, they already are church.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Doing better than "seeing the kids"
Most of the congregations I encounter in ministry have high average ages, and that average won't go down in the near future. This demographic reality produces an emotional response in congregations.
In conversation gatherings of these older church-attending adults, I hear about a longing to see children in church. These longing congregations vary in their degree of connection with children, with a conglomeration of activities. Some congregations host a preschool or childcare facility. Some congregations provide an after-school program, or give meeting space to Boy Scouts or Girl Scouts. Some congregations host a vacation Bible school, or support a teenage youth group. For all of the hospitality and community connection a congregation makes, these programmatic connections don't mean as much to congregations as youth attending worship. Problematically, this is where the exploration of the dearth of young people ends, and a section of the body of Christ in North America continues to drain its vitality. Nancy Ammerman took a poignant look at practices of passing on faith in Mainline Protestant congregations. She found that most congregations at best put in less than an hour per week and details congregational behavior and practice in passing on the faith.
Let me state for the record that I am in favor of children participating in worship. However, "seeing" children/youth in worship is a short-sighted longing at best. Children and youth don't need to be seen in church as if their presence is an ego boost to the adults of the congregation. Children and youth are not to be paraded in front of a congregation because they are cute. Any interaction with children and youth in the life of the congregation involves an opportunity to teach them about faith in Christ and provide them an understanding of what it means to be part of a Christian community. It is not merely the task of the pastor, children's minister, or youth director to share faith with children and youth. Every group in the life of the church has something to pass on about what it means to be part of a Christian community. An altar guild, men's ministry, women's circle, Bible study group, food ministry, property committee, etc.--each have opportunities to pass on what it means to be part of a Christian community. On occasion I find a congregation that has no link to children and youth whatsoever. Even then, it is time for a congregation to look at the assets in a congregation for connecting with children and youth in some way without a preconceived expectation of how children will be "seen." Children and youth do not exist for our own glorification, but God's. A congregation in renewal will see in its community what can be given to children and youth rather than what they can get for having children and youth in the congregation.
In conversation gatherings of these older church-attending adults, I hear about a longing to see children in church. These longing congregations vary in their degree of connection with children, with a conglomeration of activities. Some congregations host a preschool or childcare facility. Some congregations provide an after-school program, or give meeting space to Boy Scouts or Girl Scouts. Some congregations host a vacation Bible school, or support a teenage youth group. For all of the hospitality and community connection a congregation makes, these programmatic connections don't mean as much to congregations as youth attending worship. Problematically, this is where the exploration of the dearth of young people ends, and a section of the body of Christ in North America continues to drain its vitality. Nancy Ammerman took a poignant look at practices of passing on faith in Mainline Protestant congregations. She found that most congregations at best put in less than an hour per week and details congregational behavior and practice in passing on the faith.
Let me state for the record that I am in favor of children participating in worship. However, "seeing" children/youth in worship is a short-sighted longing at best. Children and youth don't need to be seen in church as if their presence is an ego boost to the adults of the congregation. Children and youth are not to be paraded in front of a congregation because they are cute. Any interaction with children and youth in the life of the congregation involves an opportunity to teach them about faith in Christ and provide them an understanding of what it means to be part of a Christian community. It is not merely the task of the pastor, children's minister, or youth director to share faith with children and youth. Every group in the life of the church has something to pass on about what it means to be part of a Christian community. An altar guild, men's ministry, women's circle, Bible study group, food ministry, property committee, etc.--each have opportunities to pass on what it means to be part of a Christian community. On occasion I find a congregation that has no link to children and youth whatsoever. Even then, it is time for a congregation to look at the assets in a congregation for connecting with children and youth in some way without a preconceived expectation of how children will be "seen." Children and youth do not exist for our own glorification, but God's. A congregation in renewal will see in its community what can be given to children and youth rather than what they can get for having children and youth in the congregation.
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.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Tithing practice experiment reveals faith growth opportunities
Are you a Christian whose blood pressure rises during the fall because your congregation talks about money for a week or two this season? Are you a pastor who is expected to deliver a message about giving so that the church can create a budget (which seems to be a conflict of interest because it affects your bottom line)? Are you a leader in a congregation who feels pressure to get members of a congregation to "step up" in their giving because you stress out about having to make difficult decisions about program cuts, staff cuts or whether you can keep the church building open?
I do not have the answers to the questions that riddle congregations and their pastors in relation to their resources. My goal is to understand the variables involved in giving and that in my preaching I can connect the generosity of God to a Christian's own response in giving. My goal is to diffuse the fear from giving so that giving can be joyful--which parallels my understanding that God gives out of joy.
Last year, I reflected on the theories why people don't give. I am planning to study a book that examines church giving trends. With the help of my colleague, Pastor Orv Jacobson, I've changed my approach yet again this year. Interim ministry has freed me to change my approaches because giving does little to affect my bottom line in ministry. I will be in a different congregation in 2011.
What startled me in my reflection and practices was my negative approach to giving in the life of a Christian and in a community. I do not mean that I've issued threats related to giving or delivered a negative tone in any of my stewardship preaching. However, if I approach people trying to convince people to give, or I join congregation leaders in merely examining why people aren't giving, I'm not giving people an opportunity for growth. What I've essentially done is offered critique without offering a positive alternative.
Think about what many congregations ask their members to do. There's a hope that people in the congregation will tithe--give 10 percent of their income to God's work through the congregation. My experience has shown that not many people in congregations tithe, yet there is a great respect for people who do tithe. Supposedly that is what people in the congregation work toward. I'm not sure if leaders and pastors expect this kind of giving growth through osmosis, because I usually see little, if any support for giving growth in congregational life. Congregations ask their members to tithe, or to commit to a one percent increase in giving in the coming year. The one percent growth can be a difficult challenge, especially if that household is made up of newly intentional givers.
In the discussion with Pastor Orv, here's what we planned.
1. Ask people to try tithing (see Malachi 3) or growing a percentage for a short period of time. Like three months. There will be no "prosperity gospel" promises, like your business will improve or your possessions will increase or your crops will be better. I will rejoice with them if it does happen, but I won't make those kind of promises.
2. Ask people who try giving growth to write down some regular reflections so they can have a prayerful, thoughtful and learning approach to giving.
3. Check in with the people who are trying giving growth--share a little mentoring.
4. Don't give judgment to people who say they decide not to tithe anymore after three months. At least they tried.
5. Keep the identity of the givers (my congregation already does this) and written reflections anonymous and share those reflections with others in hopes that they may learn.
We have three takers (so far) to try tithing for three months since I issued the invitation eight days ago. The blessing for me is the conversation with these people about their faith, their household, and their vocation--conversations I would not have had otherwise. It makes me think the church has created a culture of orphans (in terms of giving) because giving has been clouded by fear.
This idea has already been a win because of the great connections with people about their faith. If you try something similar to this in your congregation, I would love to learn what you learn. If you want to try tithing for three months and want to share your reflections, please let me know. I always find it a blessing to learn about the generosity of God and how that generosity is lived through God's people.
I do not have the answers to the questions that riddle congregations and their pastors in relation to their resources. My goal is to understand the variables involved in giving and that in my preaching I can connect the generosity of God to a Christian's own response in giving. My goal is to diffuse the fear from giving so that giving can be joyful--which parallels my understanding that God gives out of joy.
Last year, I reflected on the theories why people don't give. I am planning to study a book that examines church giving trends. With the help of my colleague, Pastor Orv Jacobson, I've changed my approach yet again this year. Interim ministry has freed me to change my approaches because giving does little to affect my bottom line in ministry. I will be in a different congregation in 2011.
What startled me in my reflection and practices was my negative approach to giving in the life of a Christian and in a community. I do not mean that I've issued threats related to giving or delivered a negative tone in any of my stewardship preaching. However, if I approach people trying to convince people to give, or I join congregation leaders in merely examining why people aren't giving, I'm not giving people an opportunity for growth. What I've essentially done is offered critique without offering a positive alternative.
Think about what many congregations ask their members to do. There's a hope that people in the congregation will tithe--give 10 percent of their income to God's work through the congregation. My experience has shown that not many people in congregations tithe, yet there is a great respect for people who do tithe. Supposedly that is what people in the congregation work toward. I'm not sure if leaders and pastors expect this kind of giving growth through osmosis, because I usually see little, if any support for giving growth in congregational life. Congregations ask their members to tithe, or to commit to a one percent increase in giving in the coming year. The one percent growth can be a difficult challenge, especially if that household is made up of newly intentional givers.
In the discussion with Pastor Orv, here's what we planned.
1. Ask people to try tithing (see Malachi 3) or growing a percentage for a short period of time. Like three months. There will be no "prosperity gospel" promises, like your business will improve or your possessions will increase or your crops will be better. I will rejoice with them if it does happen, but I won't make those kind of promises.
2. Ask people who try giving growth to write down some regular reflections so they can have a prayerful, thoughtful and learning approach to giving.
3. Check in with the people who are trying giving growth--share a little mentoring.
4. Don't give judgment to people who say they decide not to tithe anymore after three months. At least they tried.
5. Keep the identity of the givers (my congregation already does this) and written reflections anonymous and share those reflections with others in hopes that they may learn.
We have three takers (so far) to try tithing for three months since I issued the invitation eight days ago. The blessing for me is the conversation with these people about their faith, their household, and their vocation--conversations I would not have had otherwise. It makes me think the church has created a culture of orphans (in terms of giving) because giving has been clouded by fear.
This idea has already been a win because of the great connections with people about their faith. If you try something similar to this in your congregation, I would love to learn what you learn. If you want to try tithing for three months and want to share your reflections, please let me know. I always find it a blessing to learn about the generosity of God and how that generosity is lived through God's people.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Book Review: "Tribal Church: Minstering to the Missing Generation" by Carol Howard Merritt
I know I am late to the party reviewing this book (I have an excuse); Carol Howard Merritt (a Presbyterian Church-USA pastor) is about to publish another book--soon. Maybe people who are checking out her new book will want to know more about the older book.
Many reviewers of Tribal Church stated there are good ideas in Carol's book for inter generational ministry, but I'm not so sure this is an idea book as a conversation for leaders (and anyone else interested) about their congregational culture. If you're looking for specific ideas to replicate, you might find something, but you might look to another resource. Tribal Church likely fits better for small to mid-sized (up to 250 in worship) "Mainline [or what I call 20th Century-Brand] Protestants." Carol happens to name the plight of missing Gen Xers and Millennials and what it means for the life of the Church, but Carol's content and style inspires any congregation to better use the assets it already has to reach people in the margins of the community. I believe this is the book's greatest gift. The book's final chapter magnificently states in affirmation "The mainline denominational church has everything it needs to minister to younger generations." This is a powerful statement, I find that most of the congregations I serve in one capacity or another focus on what they do not have, rather than what they have.
When reviewing a ministry book, I answer the question, "how would I use this book in my congregation?" I have served in interim ministry for 9 years, covering 9 congregations. I believe the congregational transition between pastors is a great time to use this book. Here is why I would have used it in most (but not all) of my interim congregations:
1. Most small to mid-sized congregations, for a variety of reasons, will be calling a younger clergy person in their future. Carol names and broadly discusses the numerous challenging variables for young clergy (it should be noted that most variables could apply to early career clergy, but particularly young clergy). Some congregations may not be aware of the challenges and the lack of awareness could be the source of previous pastor-congregation discord. Awareness and action to address certain issues named in the book could produce a healthier relationship with the next pastor.
2. Pastoral transitions provide a great opportunity to evaluate congregational ministries. Howard Merritt astutely raises points around many contentious situations in the target congregational group:
I have a hard time not liking this book. Having recently exited the sub-group of "young clergy," I share a great deal of solidarity with Carol Howard Merritt and the advocacy she offers for Gen X and Millennial generations, as well as the small to mid-sized mainline Protestant congregations. I've served a majority of my ordination working with congregations in that classification, and shared in her advocacy work. The book could easily be shared in a coffee house or a church basement over a series covered dish/potluck/hotdish supper (depending on your area of the country), or in a church board room. You don't have to agree with every issue Carol Howard Merritt raises, but she will introduce you to an important evaluation of your congregational culture and practices worthy of a personal and graceful discussion, especially if you notice that Gen X and Millennial generations are missing from your congregational life.
Many reviewers of Tribal Church stated there are good ideas in Carol's book for inter generational ministry, but I'm not so sure this is an idea book as a conversation for leaders (and anyone else interested) about their congregational culture. If you're looking for specific ideas to replicate, you might find something, but you might look to another resource. Tribal Church likely fits better for small to mid-sized (up to 250 in worship) "Mainline [or what I call 20th Century-Brand] Protestants." Carol happens to name the plight of missing Gen Xers and Millennials and what it means for the life of the Church, but Carol's content and style inspires any congregation to better use the assets it already has to reach people in the margins of the community. I believe this is the book's greatest gift. The book's final chapter magnificently states in affirmation "The mainline denominational church has everything it needs to minister to younger generations." This is a powerful statement, I find that most of the congregations I serve in one capacity or another focus on what they do not have, rather than what they have.
When reviewing a ministry book, I answer the question, "how would I use this book in my congregation?" I have served in interim ministry for 9 years, covering 9 congregations. I believe the congregational transition between pastors is a great time to use this book. Here is why I would have used it in most (but not all) of my interim congregations:
1. Most small to mid-sized congregations, for a variety of reasons, will be calling a younger clergy person in their future. Carol names and broadly discusses the numerous challenging variables for young clergy (it should be noted that most variables could apply to early career clergy, but particularly young clergy). Some congregations may not be aware of the challenges and the lack of awareness could be the source of previous pastor-congregation discord. Awareness and action to address certain issues named in the book could produce a healthier relationship with the next pastor.
2. Pastoral transitions provide a great opportunity to evaluate congregational ministries. Howard Merritt astutely raises points around many contentious situations in the target congregational group:
- "The _____________ (fund-raiser, cultural event) supper [for Scandinavian Lutherans, insert lutefisk]."
- Committee service
- Leadership development
- Declining participation in a small group that appealed to people decades ago
- Demographic and sociological realities
- Generational divides
- Clergy critique
I have a hard time not liking this book. Having recently exited the sub-group of "young clergy," I share a great deal of solidarity with Carol Howard Merritt and the advocacy she offers for Gen X and Millennial generations, as well as the small to mid-sized mainline Protestant congregations. I've served a majority of my ordination working with congregations in that classification, and shared in her advocacy work. The book could easily be shared in a coffee house or a church basement over a series covered dish/potluck/hotdish supper (depending on your area of the country), or in a church board room. You don't have to agree with every issue Carol Howard Merritt raises, but she will introduce you to an important evaluation of your congregational culture and practices worthy of a personal and graceful discussion, especially if you notice that Gen X and Millennial generations are missing from your congregational life.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
What one congregation did for a child and family with an Autism Spectrum Disorder
How can a congregation minister to families affected by Autism Spectrum Disorders (ASD)?
By some counts 1 in 100 live births result in a child with an ASD. It is likely that some family or several have an ASD in their lives who are part of your congregation. I am not a social worker or an educator. I am a parent of a child with an ASD. We found a congregation that was gracious and helpful and willing to help us out. Each family with ASD will have different needs and experiences, but this story is shared so that your congregation my reflect on its current practices and see opportunities for sharing grace.
Last summer, my wife and I were in a precarious position. We had recently moved to the Seattle metro, and neither of us were serving in a congregation, yet we each had Sunday responsibilities. I had been preaching through pulpit supply, and my wife was preaching in the Southwestern Washington Synod in her new role, sometimes as far as 3 hours away. This was not an ideal situation for our daughter with an ASD. First sessions in any new program are challenging, but she integrates fairly quickly. We needed a place for her to go and continue in her Christian education outside the home in a community of faith, but our work was not conducive to her faith growth.
Our best prospect was a congregation near my parents' home, Messiah Lutheran Church in Auburn, WA. My parents care for our children on the weekends, and our daughter could attend Sunday School at Messiah. We met with the Christian Education Director (CED) on staff and told her about our daughter's needs and what could be helpful. The CED described the flow of Sunday School and matched our daughter with a leader who was comfortable working with special needs children. She wasn't sequestered in a class with all special needs children. At first, my father stayed close by during the Sunday school sessions. As our daughter became more comfortable with the surroundings and routine, she came to enjoy her time and Sunday School and was able to talk with us at home more each week about what she learned. Occasionally the leaders had concerns about behaviors, and we renegotiated a plan for her time at church.
During the Sunday School year, the CED facilitated a workshop for parents and her Sunday School teachers with a specialist in the field of working with ASD children. Unfortunately, my wife and I were not able to attend, but I heard that the mini-workshop was helpful--and it reflected Messiah Lutheran Church's desire to minister to ASD families and offer these children an opportunity to thrive in their faith growth through the intentional love and care of knowledgeable adults in the congregation.
Messiah Lutheran Church is one of the largest congregations in the SW Washington Synod and has many resources. Even though Messiah has a paid staff person to deal with different cases as with our family, any congregation can show love and care to families with ASD children. This kind of ministry doesn't have to be a big programmatic effort. Any size or resource congregation can do this ministry. It takes caring adults willing to learn about or share techniques, and parents who can be assertive about their child's needs. Our daughter had challenges at Sunday School last year, but with the ministry a shared responsibility, she was able to connect with God and others. That congregation was willing to meet us in our particular circumstance and give us some needed grace.
By some counts 1 in 100 live births result in a child with an ASD. It is likely that some family or several have an ASD in their lives who are part of your congregation. I am not a social worker or an educator. I am a parent of a child with an ASD. We found a congregation that was gracious and helpful and willing to help us out. Each family with ASD will have different needs and experiences, but this story is shared so that your congregation my reflect on its current practices and see opportunities for sharing grace.
Last summer, my wife and I were in a precarious position. We had recently moved to the Seattle metro, and neither of us were serving in a congregation, yet we each had Sunday responsibilities. I had been preaching through pulpit supply, and my wife was preaching in the Southwestern Washington Synod in her new role, sometimes as far as 3 hours away. This was not an ideal situation for our daughter with an ASD. First sessions in any new program are challenging, but she integrates fairly quickly. We needed a place for her to go and continue in her Christian education outside the home in a community of faith, but our work was not conducive to her faith growth.
Our best prospect was a congregation near my parents' home, Messiah Lutheran Church in Auburn, WA. My parents care for our children on the weekends, and our daughter could attend Sunday School at Messiah. We met with the Christian Education Director (CED) on staff and told her about our daughter's needs and what could be helpful. The CED described the flow of Sunday School and matched our daughter with a leader who was comfortable working with special needs children. She wasn't sequestered in a class with all special needs children. At first, my father stayed close by during the Sunday school sessions. As our daughter became more comfortable with the surroundings and routine, she came to enjoy her time and Sunday School and was able to talk with us at home more each week about what she learned. Occasionally the leaders had concerns about behaviors, and we renegotiated a plan for her time at church.
During the Sunday School year, the CED facilitated a workshop for parents and her Sunday School teachers with a specialist in the field of working with ASD children. Unfortunately, my wife and I were not able to attend, but I heard that the mini-workshop was helpful--and it reflected Messiah Lutheran Church's desire to minister to ASD families and offer these children an opportunity to thrive in their faith growth through the intentional love and care of knowledgeable adults in the congregation.
Messiah Lutheran Church is one of the largest congregations in the SW Washington Synod and has many resources. Even though Messiah has a paid staff person to deal with different cases as with our family, any congregation can show love and care to families with ASD children. This kind of ministry doesn't have to be a big programmatic effort. Any size or resource congregation can do this ministry. It takes caring adults willing to learn about or share techniques, and parents who can be assertive about their child's needs. Our daughter had challenges at Sunday School last year, but with the ministry a shared responsibility, she was able to connect with God and others. That congregation was willing to meet us in our particular circumstance and give us some needed grace.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Giving Credit Where Credit is Due to my ELCA Sisters and Brothers
Yesterday I highlighted some missed opportunities and future possibilities for my ELCA friends and colleagues regarding connections, learning and conferences. Today I learned via Twitter about an ELCA-sponsored conference: Follow Me: Sharing The Gospel in a 2.0 World. It's time to give credit where credit is due. I am thankful that my colleagues are using the resources available to them for evangelism and relationship building.
The promotional page for Follow Me is laid out well, offering opportunities to connect with Twitter hash tags, a Facebook event page and an invitation to blog. I think the event is worthy of its own Twitter account--and probably its own web page (linked to the ELCA site, but not necessarily embedded in its own brand). As of 1130am Pacific Time August 12, I read about 30 tweets from participants. I added each tweeter whom I was not already following to my own follow list and look forward to further connections, even though I am not attending the conference. I did not know about the conference until I saw the tweets this morning. Having a separate Twitter account for a conference creates expanded opportunities to attract participants--using those who are excited about the conference to expand publicity. What the Follow Me conference has offered is more of what I hoped for when I attended the Rethinking Stewardship Conference through Luther Seminary in July.
The conference target audience "communicators, campus ministry chaplains/staff, and college/university students" leaves me a little puzzled. I can understand the energy generated for those involved in campus ministry and young adults involved in higher education. "Communicators" is the hook that opens up the conference to many more than the other targets. "Communicators" is a continual growing identity edge for ELCA congregations. I'm not sure that congregations see themselves as shared communicators of the Gospel--they often look to the pastor for this communication. All congregations have a story to tell and now have many tools at their disposal to tell that story. My current congregation, First Lutheran Community Church in Port Orchard, WA, is learning that they have a story to tell, and how we can tell that using the tools available. The scope of public congregational presence is a flattening enterprise, and I see my current season of interim ministry at FLCC to help the congregation embrace that they all have a role in sharing the God's story through FLCC to the public and that they desire connection.
I find the Follow Me Conference hopeful--I wish I could be attending--and I'm glad I can connect with the material later. I wonder how the folks attending will connect with ELCA Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson. I wonder how expanding ministry tools will be embraced. I usually wonder what God is up to, and I am glad that the Spirit has expanded my wondering.
The promotional page for Follow Me is laid out well, offering opportunities to connect with Twitter hash tags, a Facebook event page and an invitation to blog. I think the event is worthy of its own Twitter account--and probably its own web page (linked to the ELCA site, but not necessarily embedded in its own brand). As of 1130am Pacific Time August 12, I read about 30 tweets from participants. I added each tweeter whom I was not already following to my own follow list and look forward to further connections, even though I am not attending the conference. I did not know about the conference until I saw the tweets this morning. Having a separate Twitter account for a conference creates expanded opportunities to attract participants--using those who are excited about the conference to expand publicity. What the Follow Me conference has offered is more of what I hoped for when I attended the Rethinking Stewardship Conference through Luther Seminary in July.
The conference target audience "communicators, campus ministry chaplains/staff, and college/university students" leaves me a little puzzled. I can understand the energy generated for those involved in campus ministry and young adults involved in higher education. "Communicators" is the hook that opens up the conference to many more than the other targets. "Communicators" is a continual growing identity edge for ELCA congregations. I'm not sure that congregations see themselves as shared communicators of the Gospel--they often look to the pastor for this communication. All congregations have a story to tell and now have many tools at their disposal to tell that story. My current congregation, First Lutheran Community Church in Port Orchard, WA, is learning that they have a story to tell, and how we can tell that using the tools available. The scope of public congregational presence is a flattening enterprise, and I see my current season of interim ministry at FLCC to help the congregation embrace that they all have a role in sharing the God's story through FLCC to the public and that they desire connection.
I find the Follow Me Conference hopeful--I wish I could be attending--and I'm glad I can connect with the material later. I wonder how the folks attending will connect with ELCA Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson. I wonder how expanding ministry tools will be embraced. I usually wonder what God is up to, and I am glad that the Spirit has expanded my wondering.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
The Parchment on Ye Olde Participante Liste Turns To Dust: On Twitter and Ministry Conferences
In the days of yore attending church conferences, one of the most curious handouts I received in a packet included a participant list.
The participant list provided copious amounts of contact information: name, home address, church address, home phone, work phone, cell phone, home email, work email, and website (whew!). I remember thinking the compilation of these lists represented good networking theory. I have a list of new colleagues, and possibly friends. If I had a question of praxis, boom! I could write, call, email and I had a colleague with a shared language. We drank deeply from the well of shared experience with hope of transformation, a quiver of learning arrows ready to target the ministry ogres that we had jousted before and lost.
Attending an average of 2-3 conferences a year for 12 years, I think I used all of those participant lists a mere handful of times. The well of shared experience ran dry and the arrows lost their sharpness. Ongoing opportunities for connection are easily parched and difficult to preserve. The conferences are still valuable. The content is usually good, and the people are bright, insightful and wise. The value of the material quickly diminishes without collegial connections. Ye Olde Participante Liste is no longer effective, and it may never have been effective in the first place.
For some people who work in ministry, newer means of connecting are not news. The innovators and early adapters have found new ways to connect, catapulting over Ye Olde Participante Liste and moving into Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter and other means of connecting and sharing valuable information. Since I've been on Twitter for about one year, I regularly find Evangelical and Presbyterian colleagues using Twitter to reinforce their learning at conferences through relationships and shared learning in the months and years ahead. These connections occur at far greater speed than a phone call, an email, or snail mail. The shift is not so much about speed/effieciency (yet still important), but something educators and learners have known for years: follow up and reinforcement is necessary in order for the content to have lasting effect. I see the ELCA is living in the land of Ye Olde Participante Liste. Every gathering I attended over the past year--the connections are taken for granted. If the connections are being made--I am missing them. I hope I'm missing something and my comment box will be flooded with ELCA colleagues who are connecting and provide the path where others are gathering.
Last month I attended a fabulous stewardship conference in Eden Prairie, MN, hosted by Luther Seminary and other sister organizations. I feverishly sought connection while there. The conversation at tables during the conference were lively and insightful. However, the opportunities to connect after the conference were non-existent. I posted about 25 tweets, fishing for a connection. The only connections I made (good ones) was with a few staff people at The Lutheran magazine, one who was covering the conference. That connection provided me the opportunity to debrief about the conference while attending and a week later with Lutheran magazine intern Erin Ash. I see possibilities. Far more in one conference than the 24-36 I attended in my first 12 years of ministry. I think the content is actually getting better in many ways, but that content is lost without follow up connections.
Some of God's people have taken the opportunity to gather at a new Rounde Table for God's mission in the world. I hope more of my colleagues in the ELCA can show me where that table is, or come join me at the tables where I gather.
The participant list provided copious amounts of contact information: name, home address, church address, home phone, work phone, cell phone, home email, work email, and website (whew!). I remember thinking the compilation of these lists represented good networking theory. I have a list of new colleagues, and possibly friends. If I had a question of praxis, boom! I could write, call, email and I had a colleague with a shared language. We drank deeply from the well of shared experience with hope of transformation, a quiver of learning arrows ready to target the ministry ogres that we had jousted before and lost.
Attending an average of 2-3 conferences a year for 12 years, I think I used all of those participant lists a mere handful of times. The well of shared experience ran dry and the arrows lost their sharpness. Ongoing opportunities for connection are easily parched and difficult to preserve. The conferences are still valuable. The content is usually good, and the people are bright, insightful and wise. The value of the material quickly diminishes without collegial connections. Ye Olde Participante Liste is no longer effective, and it may never have been effective in the first place.
For some people who work in ministry, newer means of connecting are not news. The innovators and early adapters have found new ways to connect, catapulting over Ye Olde Participante Liste and moving into Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter and other means of connecting and sharing valuable information. Since I've been on Twitter for about one year, I regularly find Evangelical and Presbyterian colleagues using Twitter to reinforce their learning at conferences through relationships and shared learning in the months and years ahead. These connections occur at far greater speed than a phone call, an email, or snail mail. The shift is not so much about speed/effieciency (yet still important), but something educators and learners have known for years: follow up and reinforcement is necessary in order for the content to have lasting effect. I see the ELCA is living in the land of Ye Olde Participante Liste. Every gathering I attended over the past year--the connections are taken for granted. If the connections are being made--I am missing them. I hope I'm missing something and my comment box will be flooded with ELCA colleagues who are connecting and provide the path where others are gathering.
Last month I attended a fabulous stewardship conference in Eden Prairie, MN, hosted by Luther Seminary and other sister organizations. I feverishly sought connection while there. The conversation at tables during the conference were lively and insightful. However, the opportunities to connect after the conference were non-existent. I posted about 25 tweets, fishing for a connection. The only connections I made (good ones) was with a few staff people at The Lutheran magazine, one who was covering the conference. That connection provided me the opportunity to debrief about the conference while attending and a week later with Lutheran magazine intern Erin Ash. I see possibilities. Far more in one conference than the 24-36 I attended in my first 12 years of ministry. I think the content is actually getting better in many ways, but that content is lost without follow up connections.
Some of God's people have taken the opportunity to gather at a new Rounde Table for God's mission in the world. I hope more of my colleagues in the ELCA can show me where that table is, or come join me at the tables where I gather.
Friday, July 30, 2010
The Cautionary Tale of the Whitman Mission
While I lived in South Dakota, I read about anything I could about the Pacific Northwest. I missed the connections to the familiar, comforting, yet mystifying land. I missed the mist on my skin that dampened me, yet didn't get me wet. I missed the salty air that reminded me of the bountiful sea and all its creatures, both familiar and alien. I missed the evergreens that served as green sentries that guided my paths. Though I could only visit my beloved Washington about once or twice per year, through the research and story telling of others, my own stories, memories and observations were fertilized for a time when I would not be part of the Pacific Northwest diaspora, but a participant observer replanted in my land of origin.
Years passed before I made a connection between God and the land. I knew that God created the heavens and the Earth, but I was directed in my thoughts toward an understanding that God cared more about humans than the land itself. As I studied the Old Testament in seminary, I realized the land is a much more powerful character and player in biblical story and that place matters throughout scripture--though the land and place are not widely researched in theological circles, I have come to appreciate the distinctive nature of place sociologically and theologically. John Inge (a bishop in the Church of England) and Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann address theological questions of place and land.
While reading a Pacific Northwest history by Carlos Schwantes, I encountered a new story to me, the story of a massacre at the Whitman mission in southeast Washington state, near Walla Walla. On November 29, 1847, 13 people were killed at the mission site by peoples of the Cayuse and Umatilla tribes. Numerous interpretations of the events surrounding the massacre exist, but the story represents many tensions for me as a local theologian, pastor, student, and native of the Pacific Northwest. The Whitmans came to the region prepared to deliver their way of life to the Cayuse and Umatilla peoples--a way of life that included Jesus Christ, their own culture and agriculture. My impression of the Whitmans is that they saw their work as operating in a single direction. They were the givers and the aboriginal peoples were the receivers. I don't perceive much listening going on, only telling. Naturally, the Cayuse and Umatilla resisted ways contrary to their own way of life, especially so since they did not adapt to row crop cultivation well. It was challenging to learn about Jesus when row crops were seen as a path to Jesus. The Whitmans and their coworkers were carriers for a measles epidemic that wiped out half of the local tribe population. The tribes responded to these developments with violence, and the missionary endeavors in the area were ended for well over a generation.
I still have a lot to learn about the Whitman mission story. It may become a topic for deeper study in my future. On my recent family trip, my family and I visited the Whitman Mission National Historical Site (part of the National Park system). I hope to return when I have more research time and search some of the archives at nearby Whitman College. I learned much from this story and my own understanding of Christian ministry and mission. Some factors remain in my ongoing consideration:
1. The local religious landscape in the Pacific Northwest has always struggled to support Christian ministry and cultural endeavors related to Christian ministry for centuries. Though it is no longer at the bottom of the of the list of percentage of religious adherents (Maine is now at the bottom), it takes significantly more work for Christians to gain influence in the region than in other places where I have lived and worked.
2. Is there an appropriate balance between Christian ministry as proclamation and listening? In my early studies of the Whitman massacre, it appears that the actions of the Whitmans moved more toward proclamation than listening and understanding the Umatilla and Cayuse peoples. The Whitman story provides a cautionary tale for me on many levels. I believe in God's redemptive work through the Church, but am I the appropriate proclaimer? I find myself much more interested and driven to understand than to proclaim. Understanding is a relative term--it seems sometimes that the more I learn, the less I understand--but understanding is more about posture than accomplishment. Interim ministry for me has been a ministry of understanding congregations (again, understanding is relative), and using that understanding for the people of God in a particular place to follow their calling in God's preferred future for them.
3. Though it takes great courage and energy to make a proclamation (Marcus Whitman made several round trips from the mission to the East Coast to garner support for the mission in a time where such distance travel was tiring, dangerous and often deadly), sometimes I think it is much harder to listen, learn and understand--because the other cannot be controlled. The Whitmans did not have an opportunity to learn this lesson; they were killed before any change took place. This is part of the conflicting understanding about mission--I make quite a presumption when I think I know what is best for a group of people I serve, whereas we can take the opportunity to build relationship and name that God is already in that place, and together look at the Bible and look the culture and prayerfully see where God is together in hopes of imagining and living God's preferred future for that particular community.
I sometimes wonder whether these thoughts, experiences and learnings make me the right kind of pastor in this day and age, or whether I should find a different path to ministry. A colleague and friend once posed to me the key differences between proclamation and understanding and their relationship to vocation. I believe the distinction between proclamation and understanding is important, but the relationship to vocation is not so cut and dried. I may never feel comfortable in my vocation. I am provoked to proclamation, yet driven to understand. Through the Whitmans I read a cautionary tale, and I am alerted to the consequences on either end of the continuum of proclamation and understanding.
Years passed before I made a connection between God and the land. I knew that God created the heavens and the Earth, but I was directed in my thoughts toward an understanding that God cared more about humans than the land itself. As I studied the Old Testament in seminary, I realized the land is a much more powerful character and player in biblical story and that place matters throughout scripture--though the land and place are not widely researched in theological circles, I have come to appreciate the distinctive nature of place sociologically and theologically. John Inge (a bishop in the Church of England) and Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann address theological questions of place and land.
While reading a Pacific Northwest history by Carlos Schwantes, I encountered a new story to me, the story of a massacre at the Whitman mission in southeast Washington state, near Walla Walla. On November 29, 1847, 13 people were killed at the mission site by peoples of the Cayuse and Umatilla tribes. Numerous interpretations of the events surrounding the massacre exist, but the story represents many tensions for me as a local theologian, pastor, student, and native of the Pacific Northwest. The Whitmans came to the region prepared to deliver their way of life to the Cayuse and Umatilla peoples--a way of life that included Jesus Christ, their own culture and agriculture. My impression of the Whitmans is that they saw their work as operating in a single direction. They were the givers and the aboriginal peoples were the receivers. I don't perceive much listening going on, only telling. Naturally, the Cayuse and Umatilla resisted ways contrary to their own way of life, especially so since they did not adapt to row crop cultivation well. It was challenging to learn about Jesus when row crops were seen as a path to Jesus. The Whitmans and their coworkers were carriers for a measles epidemic that wiped out half of the local tribe population. The tribes responded to these developments with violence, and the missionary endeavors in the area were ended for well over a generation.
I still have a lot to learn about the Whitman mission story. It may become a topic for deeper study in my future. On my recent family trip, my family and I visited the Whitman Mission National Historical Site (part of the National Park system). I hope to return when I have more research time and search some of the archives at nearby Whitman College. I learned much from this story and my own understanding of Christian ministry and mission. Some factors remain in my ongoing consideration:
1. The local religious landscape in the Pacific Northwest has always struggled to support Christian ministry and cultural endeavors related to Christian ministry for centuries. Though it is no longer at the bottom of the of the list of percentage of religious adherents (Maine is now at the bottom), it takes significantly more work for Christians to gain influence in the region than in other places where I have lived and worked.
2. Is there an appropriate balance between Christian ministry as proclamation and listening? In my early studies of the Whitman massacre, it appears that the actions of the Whitmans moved more toward proclamation than listening and understanding the Umatilla and Cayuse peoples. The Whitman story provides a cautionary tale for me on many levels. I believe in God's redemptive work through the Church, but am I the appropriate proclaimer? I find myself much more interested and driven to understand than to proclaim. Understanding is a relative term--it seems sometimes that the more I learn, the less I understand--but understanding is more about posture than accomplishment. Interim ministry for me has been a ministry of understanding congregations (again, understanding is relative), and using that understanding for the people of God in a particular place to follow their calling in God's preferred future for them.
3. Though it takes great courage and energy to make a proclamation (Marcus Whitman made several round trips from the mission to the East Coast to garner support for the mission in a time where such distance travel was tiring, dangerous and often deadly), sometimes I think it is much harder to listen, learn and understand--because the other cannot be controlled. The Whitmans did not have an opportunity to learn this lesson; they were killed before any change took place. This is part of the conflicting understanding about mission--I make quite a presumption when I think I know what is best for a group of people I serve, whereas we can take the opportunity to build relationship and name that God is already in that place, and together look at the Bible and look the culture and prayerfully see where God is together in hopes of imagining and living God's preferred future for that particular community.
I sometimes wonder whether these thoughts, experiences and learnings make me the right kind of pastor in this day and age, or whether I should find a different path to ministry. A colleague and friend once posed to me the key differences between proclamation and understanding and their relationship to vocation. I believe the distinction between proclamation and understanding is important, but the relationship to vocation is not so cut and dried. I may never feel comfortable in my vocation. I am provoked to proclamation, yet driven to understand. Through the Whitmans I read a cautionary tale, and I am alerted to the consequences on either end of the continuum of proclamation and understanding.
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