Today I've been working with theory and practice related to sociology of religion. I love this stuff. Almost can't get enough of it. Especially when something happens in the daily activity of ministry, and I visualize a constructing bridge cantilevering over the chasm between academia and ministry. Three hours of thinking, posting, praying, reading. It felt like 15 minutes. I was in a zone, in a place for me where I know the Holy Spirit resides. It doesn't get much better than that for me.
Today was also the day my oldest daughter had her first day of school. I remember watching The Cosby Show as a kid and the celebration Cliff and Claire Huxtable used to have on the first day of school. I was feeling that. I love my daughter, and I will miss her while she is at school in a matter of days. A little lost in the shuffle is my 4 year old, who doesn't start preschool until next week. She kept coming in to talk to me (as she is prone to do) while I was giddy with idea flow, and I was too dismissive of her conversation. I looked to the heavens for a little insight, and I remembered a teacher of mine who spoke to me from the cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1).
The cloud of witnesses are supposed to be the heroes of the faith. This was not my favorite teacher, one that often perturbed me. However, I remembered some wise words I received about how he was once taught that church life and pursuits always came first in ministry, and following that was the most significant regret in a life of ministry. The cloud of witnesses and the Holy Spirit directed me to get on my knees, look my daughter in the eye and say "Let's play a game. How about Candy Land?" I was moved to think about how she moved into the cloud of witnesses. That cloud allowed me to be thankful for the joy in the presence of God, joy in the flow of ideas, and joy in the simple connection of the moment. All in the midst of things that could have just as easily annoyed me. Thanks be to God.
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Imagining small church mission
What does it mean to be part of a small church?
This week, I began service as the pastor of St. John's Lutheran Church in Lakewood, Washington. St. John's is a gathering of approximately 40 people in Sunday morning worship. By almost any definition, St. John's is a small church. My small church experience is a small portion of my life with congregations.
1. I served an interim ministry at New Life Lutheran Church in Sergeant Bluff, Iowa, a community at the time of about 40 people in worship.
2. I served an interim ministry at a three-point parish in Lyman County, South Dakota. One of the congregations was distinctly small in Kennebec, the congregations in Vivian and Presho could be large enough to classify differently.
From experience, observation and study, here are the small church thoughts in my mind. I am taking an inventory of small church experiences. It should also be noted that as an interim pastor, I never lived in a small church community. There was always an understanding that I had relational access to people's lives, yet remained an outsider.
Congregational size is not the only variable of consequence. Region, denomination, judicatory, education and other variables can enter the discussion, but the focus of this reflection involves what I have gathered about small churches.
1. Often the small church is described with a sense of "plight." The small church is depicted in church circles as suffering or in disarray. Both seem to be associated with suburban migration of the mid- to late- 20th century; a migration that dwindled the size of both urban and rural congregations. The plight is that resources to fund urban or rural congregations fades as people leave, much like other urban and rural social institutions. Small churches can still thrive, I believe, but it also depends on the shared definition of what thriving means.
2. Power in small congregations must flow through the matriarchs and/or patriarchs of the congregation. Several decades ago, Arlin Rothauge published a short book on congregational size dynamics and named the 0-50 worship attendance congregation as a "family" church. Rothauge's observations have been parsed in congregations and church leadership circles for the better part of three decades. In this size of congregation, the members are often highly invested and see pastors come and go for many different reasons (see #3).
3. Pastoral leadership in small congregations often exists in a state of flux. Small congregations often cannot afford a full-time pastor, or an experienced pastor, because the salary levels cannot support clergy with a family living at home, or a pastor carrying large amounts of student loan debt. With pastors coming and going quickly, congregations develop a pattern of behavior where they can "wait out" the pastor and all of that particular pastor's ideas for ministry if they don't care for them.
4. In a small congregation, everyone knows everyone else. So the proverb goes--but I think this is a bit of a myth or euphemism for an intimacy that cannot be assumed. There may be a higher degree of familiarity among members/worshiper in small congregations than large congregations, but that does not necessarily reflect a depth of relationship.
5. What a small church needs is to replicate what is done at a large congregation. Reading a favorite blog, Church Marketing Sucks (CMS), I was reminded of how easily the replication notion is perpetuated. Large churches have the resources to share their experience, wisdom and knowledge with others. They share that information with pastors and congregations, and the small congregations often end up feeling inferior about what God is doing among them. As someone who has served both small and large congregations, this is not intentional, but it still goes on. Frustration continues to mount about good leadership resources for small congregations. The blog post from CMS reminded me about small-large congregation leadership dynamic.
In the end, what seems to matter is that people in a congregation can imagine a unique sense of mission independent of the aforementioned factors. This does not mean God's mission is lived in a vacuum. On the contrary, I think the question related to the Parable of the Good Samaritan is operative, "And who is my neighbor?" We need to know something about our neighbor in order to share good news in Christ.
Who is God? What is God doing? Who is my neighbor? I still have much to learn about small churches and the small church I am serving, but I need to remember these questions, and I look forward to addressing these questions with people in the community.
This week, I began service as the pastor of St. John's Lutheran Church in Lakewood, Washington. St. John's is a gathering of approximately 40 people in Sunday morning worship. By almost any definition, St. John's is a small church. My small church experience is a small portion of my life with congregations.
1. I served an interim ministry at New Life Lutheran Church in Sergeant Bluff, Iowa, a community at the time of about 40 people in worship.
2. I served an interim ministry at a three-point parish in Lyman County, South Dakota. One of the congregations was distinctly small in Kennebec, the congregations in Vivian and Presho could be large enough to classify differently.
From experience, observation and study, here are the small church thoughts in my mind. I am taking an inventory of small church experiences. It should also be noted that as an interim pastor, I never lived in a small church community. There was always an understanding that I had relational access to people's lives, yet remained an outsider.
Congregational size is not the only variable of consequence. Region, denomination, judicatory, education and other variables can enter the discussion, but the focus of this reflection involves what I have gathered about small churches.
1. Often the small church is described with a sense of "plight." The small church is depicted in church circles as suffering or in disarray. Both seem to be associated with suburban migration of the mid- to late- 20th century; a migration that dwindled the size of both urban and rural congregations. The plight is that resources to fund urban or rural congregations fades as people leave, much like other urban and rural social institutions. Small churches can still thrive, I believe, but it also depends on the shared definition of what thriving means.
2. Power in small congregations must flow through the matriarchs and/or patriarchs of the congregation. Several decades ago, Arlin Rothauge published a short book on congregational size dynamics and named the 0-50 worship attendance congregation as a "family" church. Rothauge's observations have been parsed in congregations and church leadership circles for the better part of three decades. In this size of congregation, the members are often highly invested and see pastors come and go for many different reasons (see #3).
3. Pastoral leadership in small congregations often exists in a state of flux. Small congregations often cannot afford a full-time pastor, or an experienced pastor, because the salary levels cannot support clergy with a family living at home, or a pastor carrying large amounts of student loan debt. With pastors coming and going quickly, congregations develop a pattern of behavior where they can "wait out" the pastor and all of that particular pastor's ideas for ministry if they don't care for them.
4. In a small congregation, everyone knows everyone else. So the proverb goes--but I think this is a bit of a myth or euphemism for an intimacy that cannot be assumed. There may be a higher degree of familiarity among members/worshiper in small congregations than large congregations, but that does not necessarily reflect a depth of relationship.
5. What a small church needs is to replicate what is done at a large congregation. Reading a favorite blog, Church Marketing Sucks (CMS), I was reminded of how easily the replication notion is perpetuated. Large churches have the resources to share their experience, wisdom and knowledge with others. They share that information with pastors and congregations, and the small congregations often end up feeling inferior about what God is doing among them. As someone who has served both small and large congregations, this is not intentional, but it still goes on. Frustration continues to mount about good leadership resources for small congregations. The blog post from CMS reminded me about small-large congregation leadership dynamic.
In the end, what seems to matter is that people in a congregation can imagine a unique sense of mission independent of the aforementioned factors. This does not mean God's mission is lived in a vacuum. On the contrary, I think the question related to the Parable of the Good Samaritan is operative, "And who is my neighbor?" We need to know something about our neighbor in order to share good news in Christ.
Who is God? What is God doing? Who is my neighbor? I still have much to learn about small churches and the small church I am serving, but I need to remember these questions, and I look forward to addressing these questions with people in the community.
Tuesday, 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.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Pastor-Congregation Member Friendships (and Interim Ministry)
Pastors are intimately aware of how people often approach them differently when they discover their line of work. My favorite is when people apologize for dropping an f-bomb in front of me, especially when that person wouldn't blush for saying the same thing in front of their grandmother. I was troubled by this at first. "Hey, I'm cool (not). Swear away."
Since I got over that dynamic, the question of how to relate to people in a congregation still remains, give or take the awkward apologies in social settings. A pastor does not operate in a clinical setting (unless they are some sort of licensed therapist). Yet, a pastor carries an expectation of presence in the midst of life's most turbulent times. The connection is powerful. I know I must be proactive to find friendships outside of church life, lest I lose perspective from fusion. If I minimize the connection with people in the congregation, there's an incarnational loss of shared faith and practice.
Because I live away from the interim ministries I serve, when I leave the congregation, a majority of the relationships essentially end. While we serve together, we have a shared focus. That does not mean there are not opportunities for friendships in the future; however, the relationship changes, as does the proximity. When I am no longer the pastor in a congregation, I do not officiate at weddings, funerals, baptisms, do pastoral care, or address congregational dynamics. I do not want to create triangles involving me, the called pastor, and others in the congregation. This situation is challenging to navigate. There is reciprocal value in the pastor-congregation member relationship. I deeply appreciate the support, camaraderie, service and learning shared in congregational ministry. Once again, the dynamic is changing because I will no longer be the pastor at First Lutheran Community Church in Port Orchard after March 7. I value the connections of yesterday, and maybe there will be connections tomorrow. But the relationship will change. I am still learning what that means, and a pray for what my colleague Marcia Carrier called, "a space of grace" as I see members of the congregations I have served in the future.
Since I got over that dynamic, the question of how to relate to people in a congregation still remains, give or take the awkward apologies in social settings. A pastor does not operate in a clinical setting (unless they are some sort of licensed therapist). Yet, a pastor carries an expectation of presence in the midst of life's most turbulent times. The connection is powerful. I know I must be proactive to find friendships outside of church life, lest I lose perspective from fusion. If I minimize the connection with people in the congregation, there's an incarnational loss of shared faith and practice.
Because I live away from the interim ministries I serve, when I leave the congregation, a majority of the relationships essentially end. While we serve together, we have a shared focus. That does not mean there are not opportunities for friendships in the future; however, the relationship changes, as does the proximity. When I am no longer the pastor in a congregation, I do not officiate at weddings, funerals, baptisms, do pastoral care, or address congregational dynamics. I do not want to create triangles involving me, the called pastor, and others in the congregation. This situation is challenging to navigate. There is reciprocal value in the pastor-congregation member relationship. I deeply appreciate the support, camaraderie, service and learning shared in congregational ministry. Once again, the dynamic is changing because I will no longer be the pastor at First Lutheran Community Church in Port Orchard after March 7. I value the connections of yesterday, and maybe there will be connections tomorrow. But the relationship will change. I am still learning what that means, and a pray for what my colleague Marcia Carrier called, "a space of grace" as I see members of the congregations I have served in the future.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Music as pastoral care and building the community of faith
The battle over worship in this congregation started in 1967 when _________________ played a guitar in worship. The war has gone on ever since.
That was a statement of an elder member of a congregation I served as an interim when I asked about the stories related to conflict over worship. One might call it the Thirty Years' War. The "Worship Wars" don't have the acrimony they once did even five years ago. I never understood the approach of the Worship Wars in "Mainline" Protestantism. Arguing over preferences produces no clarity, no mission, no deeper connection with the Divine.
I am not a worship scholar. I wouldn't even call myself gifted in worship methodology or theology. But I ponder the effects of music on my soul and my longing for God, desiring healing and wholeness, and where I see Christ. I have to provide the musical connection with God for myself, because the church for 30 years has been more interested in arguing about style preferences than offering to build my relationship with God and others in their spiritual growth. Recently I've been thinking less about my musical preferences and HOW I am connected to God and others by a particular song.
1. The role of testimony. Preachers and other deliverers of the Gospel can appropriately share their personal stories about the activity of God in their lives. I find meaning in that connection--why can't it be done with music? Case in point--a pastoral care song for me is from Melody Gardot's Who Will Comfort Me. The song is good in and of itself, but it means even more in light of Melody's own path of healing. Gardot faced brutal injuries and the healing setbacks and triumphs in her life come out in this particular song. Testimony brings out a tradition of the Psalms. Sometimes lament, sometimes victory. Sometimes confidence in God's presence, sometimes longing questions and frustration. Who will comfort me?
2. Songs of confession and songs of intercession. Years ago I had numerous opportunities to preach for the St. Dysmas prison congregation in the South Dakota State Penitentiary. I had some great conversations with the worship band. Though they loved playing worship music and praise songs, the jam sessions revealed more about their walk with God. What saddened me was that they thought their jams had no place in the worship service. One band member and I had a discussion around Molly Hatchet's "Flirtin' With Disaster." The song provided an entry point for this young man's story, his crimes and sins, his incarceration, and his relationship with God. I always thought it was a good song, though not a favorite. The song is now a favorite because it is an opportunity for me to pray for this young man--for healing, for forgiveness, for a newness of life each day, and a new start when he gets out of prison.
Unfortunately, my work with the Worship Wars of the past 30 or so years has been more about addressing conflict and congregational dynamics. In this season of my life, I hope for articulation of music as pastoral care and faith community building.
Excuse me--while I commute home tonight and listen to tunes from my iPhone, I will be in a place of worship. Through Christ, creation (music) and relationship--God heals.
That was a statement of an elder member of a congregation I served as an interim when I asked about the stories related to conflict over worship. One might call it the Thirty Years' War. The "Worship Wars" don't have the acrimony they once did even five years ago. I never understood the approach of the Worship Wars in "Mainline" Protestantism. Arguing over preferences produces no clarity, no mission, no deeper connection with the Divine.
I am not a worship scholar. I wouldn't even call myself gifted in worship methodology or theology. But I ponder the effects of music on my soul and my longing for God, desiring healing and wholeness, and where I see Christ. I have to provide the musical connection with God for myself, because the church for 30 years has been more interested in arguing about style preferences than offering to build my relationship with God and others in their spiritual growth. Recently I've been thinking less about my musical preferences and HOW I am connected to God and others by a particular song.
1. The role of testimony. Preachers and other deliverers of the Gospel can appropriately share their personal stories about the activity of God in their lives. I find meaning in that connection--why can't it be done with music? Case in point--a pastoral care song for me is from Melody Gardot's Who Will Comfort Me. The song is good in and of itself, but it means even more in light of Melody's own path of healing. Gardot faced brutal injuries and the healing setbacks and triumphs in her life come out in this particular song. Testimony brings out a tradition of the Psalms. Sometimes lament, sometimes victory. Sometimes confidence in God's presence, sometimes longing questions and frustration. Who will comfort me?
2. Songs of confession and songs of intercession. Years ago I had numerous opportunities to preach for the St. Dysmas prison congregation in the South Dakota State Penitentiary. I had some great conversations with the worship band. Though they loved playing worship music and praise songs, the jam sessions revealed more about their walk with God. What saddened me was that they thought their jams had no place in the worship service. One band member and I had a discussion around Molly Hatchet's "Flirtin' With Disaster." The song provided an entry point for this young man's story, his crimes and sins, his incarceration, and his relationship with God. I always thought it was a good song, though not a favorite. The song is now a favorite because it is an opportunity for me to pray for this young man--for healing, for forgiveness, for a newness of life each day, and a new start when he gets out of prison.
Unfortunately, my work with the Worship Wars of the past 30 or so years has been more about addressing conflict and congregational dynamics. In this season of my life, I hope for articulation of music as pastoral care and faith community building.
Excuse me--while I commute home tonight and listen to tunes from my iPhone, I will be in a place of worship. Through Christ, creation (music) and relationship--God heals.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Salary, pension, insurance, oh my! The next chapter awaits...
Once in awhile I share a conversation with a pastor 30-50 years older than me (though it's been a few years). With a little digging I can find a story about a struggle to provide the basics of life for their families. Salaries were small. Health insurance didn't exist. A pension? Unthinkable. Inevitably, I'll find a story about how a pastor was compensated with food. A pig here, several chickens there, 6-months supply of venison there. I'm glad I do not have to live like that.
I consider life's needs as I approach my next ministry chapter. I will no longer be compensated sometime in April, and I'll have to find a way to contribute to the household without piling thousands of dollars in the family coffers (that go out as quickly as they come in). I may have a few supply preaching opportunities. I'll clip more coupons and more closely watch the grocery budget. Exercises in leisure time will be dances in frugality. We've done this before and we can do it again. This chapter of ministry does not begin with worry.
I'm thinking about the two and three chapters ahead. I think back to earlier chapters, recalling my colleagues and friends retreat from challenging their congregations for fear of losing their health insurance, not receive a much-needed raise, or be forced into retirement sooner than they imagined. Maybe leadership decisions are not directly related to home balance sheets on a day to day basis, but the decisions where a pastor might overlook a ministry issue for self-preservation accumulate. Congregations also collect these behaviors in the name of self-preservation--not wanting to offend Jane and John Pewsitter for fear of losing their offering.
I never wish for a day I will be paid in pigs. I'm thankful for the church contributing so that I can make a good living. But I don't want to compromise a calling or a decision because my daughter needs a treatment or my wife needs glasses. Congregations do not want to limit their leadership in order to meet a budget, but the make their own compromises. With self-preservation in the backdrop, I wonder what will be the title of my next chapter in ministry. I ponder finding a "non-ministry" job that can help my family thrive while leading a ministry during the after work hours.
The church will never be void of politics, power struggles or leadership failures if pastors find their incomes in places besides the congregations they serve. As the dreams of God cascade through my mind about the justice, kindness and humble connections with God and neighbor, I wonder if I should put more energy into fulfilling my call rather than keeping my call. Congregations and pastors are spiraling downward in a whirlpool of self-preservation. Ministry should not suffer because of that spiral.
This is one reason that I am thankful for the struggling economy; would I even be thinking about self-preservation issues without it? Would I be thinking about boundless mercy of God or the benefits of comfortable living?
I consider life's needs as I approach my next ministry chapter. I will no longer be compensated sometime in April, and I'll have to find a way to contribute to the household without piling thousands of dollars in the family coffers (that go out as quickly as they come in). I may have a few supply preaching opportunities. I'll clip more coupons and more closely watch the grocery budget. Exercises in leisure time will be dances in frugality. We've done this before and we can do it again. This chapter of ministry does not begin with worry.
I'm thinking about the two and three chapters ahead. I think back to earlier chapters, recalling my colleagues and friends retreat from challenging their congregations for fear of losing their health insurance, not receive a much-needed raise, or be forced into retirement sooner than they imagined. Maybe leadership decisions are not directly related to home balance sheets on a day to day basis, but the decisions where a pastor might overlook a ministry issue for self-preservation accumulate. Congregations also collect these behaviors in the name of self-preservation--not wanting to offend Jane and John Pewsitter for fear of losing their offering.
I never wish for a day I will be paid in pigs. I'm thankful for the church contributing so that I can make a good living. But I don't want to compromise a calling or a decision because my daughter needs a treatment or my wife needs glasses. Congregations do not want to limit their leadership in order to meet a budget, but the make their own compromises. With self-preservation in the backdrop, I wonder what will be the title of my next chapter in ministry. I ponder finding a "non-ministry" job that can help my family thrive while leading a ministry during the after work hours.
The church will never be void of politics, power struggles or leadership failures if pastors find their incomes in places besides the congregations they serve. As the dreams of God cascade through my mind about the justice, kindness and humble connections with God and neighbor, I wonder if I should put more energy into fulfilling my call rather than keeping my call. Congregations and pastors are spiraling downward in a whirlpool of self-preservation. Ministry should not suffer because of that spiral.
This is one reason that I am thankful for the struggling economy; would I even be thinking about self-preservation issues without it? Would I be thinking about boundless mercy of God or the benefits of comfortable living?
Friday, February 4, 2011
Unplanned sabbaticals
In interim ministry, I often look at the calendar in anticipation of the next pastor's arrival. I usually exhale, much like the congregation. Sometimes my exhale lasts a few months after I say my thank yous and good byes to my partners in ministry. This will be my last unplanned sabbatical.
I always have a few projects and goals. Envelop myself as a house husband for a few months. Clip more coupons, find where I can buy the cheapest fresh spinach, work toward a deeper sense of household feng shui. Write more. Exercise more. Read more Bible. Facilitate more peace for wife and daughters through order, sleep better, and purge the stuff that creeps into the house, multiplying like termites. Too much plastic, too much paper, too many unused tools. They all sounded good at first glance, but they all clog my life as my pores clogged as a teenager. Sabbatical is more than rest. Sabbatical works like astringent.
I have a project that continues to provoke my soul, and it feels like make or break time. I don't need money. I only need time. I haven't given up on the dream of another degree. The formal path does not work for my family and me. If I am truly passionate about religion in the Salish Sea region, the research and information gathering beckons. It matters not whether others find it interesting, because it is the story of my life to be learned and told. My sabbatical is one month away. Intentional rest, intentional work. Outside of visiting my brother in Edmonton, I will avoid driving, for that has been my part-time job during my current interim ministry. Commuting alone (or with my daughters) by car kills me.
During my longer tenure as a house husband, I embodied a few lessons taught to me by monks in the District of Columbia and my spiritual director in Sioux Falls.
1. Raising young children is similar to a monastic life.
2. Manual labor is a form of prayer.
Though networking will be on my sabbatical agenda (the next ministry awaits on the other side). I hope the wisdom of God and my prayers and the prayers of those who love me will shape my next season of life and ministry. God saw that the creation was good in sabbatical, and I am visualizing the most fulfilling unplanned sabbatical yet. I know it won't completely go in the rudimentary plans I formulate today, but I know the Holy Spirit will move in those days.
I always have a few projects and goals. Envelop myself as a house husband for a few months. Clip more coupons, find where I can buy the cheapest fresh spinach, work toward a deeper sense of household feng shui. Write more. Exercise more. Read more Bible. Facilitate more peace for wife and daughters through order, sleep better, and purge the stuff that creeps into the house, multiplying like termites. Too much plastic, too much paper, too many unused tools. They all sounded good at first glance, but they all clog my life as my pores clogged as a teenager. Sabbatical is more than rest. Sabbatical works like astringent.
I have a project that continues to provoke my soul, and it feels like make or break time. I don't need money. I only need time. I haven't given up on the dream of another degree. The formal path does not work for my family and me. If I am truly passionate about religion in the Salish Sea region, the research and information gathering beckons. It matters not whether others find it interesting, because it is the story of my life to be learned and told. My sabbatical is one month away. Intentional rest, intentional work. Outside of visiting my brother in Edmonton, I will avoid driving, for that has been my part-time job during my current interim ministry. Commuting alone (or with my daughters) by car kills me.
During my longer tenure as a house husband, I embodied a few lessons taught to me by monks in the District of Columbia and my spiritual director in Sioux Falls.
1. Raising young children is similar to a monastic life.
2. Manual labor is a form of prayer.
Though networking will be on my sabbatical agenda (the next ministry awaits on the other side). I hope the wisdom of God and my prayers and the prayers of those who love me will shape my next season of life and ministry. God saw that the creation was good in sabbatical, and I am visualizing the most fulfilling unplanned sabbatical yet. I know it won't completely go in the rudimentary plans I formulate today, but I know the Holy Spirit will move in those days.
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.
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.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Faith-work connections need a more important room
While in seminary, anyone discussing the connection between faith and work usually referenced the role of works in Christian faith. Understanding the relationship to what we do in life and the grace of God is a tenet of great theological significance.
Unlike Martin Luther, this relationship between faith and works does not keep me awake at night. What keeps me awake at night I whether my work provides a space in their lives for people to connect with the grace of God. Congregational life relegates the presence of God in our lives to places that receive relatively little attention understood in amount of time spent. Congregational life and our relationship with God is like a house. Much to our detriment, congregational life looks like we place God in small spaces like closets or storage areas in a house--places where we spend few waking hours. When I reflect upon the energies of congregational life, we place emphasis on volunteer time, whether at church or in completing a service project. We place emphasis on families. We place emphasis on worship time. All of these aspects of life are important and valuable. However if we total the time spent on these activities as a percentage of our total time in a week, the percentage is low. Most of our waking hours are spent at work.What would our homes look like if we placed all of our energy on the closets?
At a recent stewardship conference I attended through Luther Seminary, Philip (Dubuque Seminary) and Janet Jamison (University of Dubuque) persuaded me to be more intentional about the connection between faith and work on many levels. Though I don't have the data in front of me (I was told it would be published soon) when polled, well over 90% of church attenders responded that their congregations did not help them make a connection between faith and work. We're not talking about the classic Reformation-era faith-works relationship, but a space where a computer programmer communicates the grace of God in their work. A space where a grocery clerk sees an opportunity through hospitality to share God's love. A space where a custodian provides a clean and safe place for others to use their God-given gifts in work.
God, have mercy on the church for thinking that everything we do is about making our congregations better places for our own sake and pride rather than equipping people to live a grace-filled life during every waking hour. I began learning this lesson of time stewardship as I saw people enthusiastically, yet humbly come toward the altar for a blessing during our Celebrating Faces service. Those working on our Celebrating Faces service, where we once a month offer a specific word of grace for particular lines of work (teachers, health care workers, first responders, for example). We originally designed the service as an outreach, a way to connect with people in the community. Toward the end of the service, people come forward for a blessing. How I begin the blessing involves asking each individual who comes forward to tell me in a sentence what they do for a living. From that sentence, I craft a blessing tailored to that person's work. I remember a junior high school teacher. Remembering the intense social and hormonal challenges of junior high, I spoke a blessing on someone who teaches and connects with the turbulent times of adolescence and that the teacher may have peace in the midst of frustration and a reminder that God is faithfully present with them in the classroom.
We fail to speak God's grace to many situations in the life of the church; yet the connection between faith and work is something we can do. For Lutheran Christians, the connection should be easier (Luther wrote on this topic on numerous occasions), but I suppose not, because we're not doing it. If we think we're doing it, we're not, because the faith work connection fails to register with people today. The house of our lives can be filled with God's grace, but we relegate it to place where we only spend a few hours on any given day. So much of life is spent at work, and without being intentional about the faith-work connection, we will be evicted from our houses of faith.
Unlike Martin Luther, this relationship between faith and works does not keep me awake at night. What keeps me awake at night I whether my work provides a space in their lives for people to connect with the grace of God. Congregational life relegates the presence of God in our lives to places that receive relatively little attention understood in amount of time spent. Congregational life and our relationship with God is like a house. Much to our detriment, congregational life looks like we place God in small spaces like closets or storage areas in a house--places where we spend few waking hours. When I reflect upon the energies of congregational life, we place emphasis on volunteer time, whether at church or in completing a service project. We place emphasis on families. We place emphasis on worship time. All of these aspects of life are important and valuable. However if we total the time spent on these activities as a percentage of our total time in a week, the percentage is low. Most of our waking hours are spent at work.What would our homes look like if we placed all of our energy on the closets?
At a recent stewardship conference I attended through Luther Seminary, Philip (Dubuque Seminary) and Janet Jamison (University of Dubuque) persuaded me to be more intentional about the connection between faith and work on many levels. Though I don't have the data in front of me (I was told it would be published soon) when polled, well over 90% of church attenders responded that their congregations did not help them make a connection between faith and work. We're not talking about the classic Reformation-era faith-works relationship, but a space where a computer programmer communicates the grace of God in their work. A space where a grocery clerk sees an opportunity through hospitality to share God's love. A space where a custodian provides a clean and safe place for others to use their God-given gifts in work.
God, have mercy on the church for thinking that everything we do is about making our congregations better places for our own sake and pride rather than equipping people to live a grace-filled life during every waking hour. I began learning this lesson of time stewardship as I saw people enthusiastically, yet humbly come toward the altar for a blessing during our Celebrating Faces service. Those working on our Celebrating Faces service, where we once a month offer a specific word of grace for particular lines of work (teachers, health care workers, first responders, for example). We originally designed the service as an outreach, a way to connect with people in the community. Toward the end of the service, people come forward for a blessing. How I begin the blessing involves asking each individual who comes forward to tell me in a sentence what they do for a living. From that sentence, I craft a blessing tailored to that person's work. I remember a junior high school teacher. Remembering the intense social and hormonal challenges of junior high, I spoke a blessing on someone who teaches and connects with the turbulent times of adolescence and that the teacher may have peace in the midst of frustration and a reminder that God is faithfully present with them in the classroom.
We fail to speak God's grace to many situations in the life of the church; yet the connection between faith and work is something we can do. For Lutheran Christians, the connection should be easier (Luther wrote on this topic on numerous occasions), but I suppose not, because we're not doing it. If we think we're doing it, we're not, because the faith work connection fails to register with people today. The house of our lives can be filled with God's grace, but we relegate it to place where we only spend a few hours on any given day. So much of life is spent at work, and without being intentional about the faith-work connection, we will be evicted from our houses of faith.
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