Today's post is rooted in thanks to colleague and fellow Mariner and Huskies fan Adam McHugh.
I appreciate his invitation to write as guest blogger on McHugh's website, Introverted Church. If you want to explore in depth regarding introverted spirituality, I commend McHugh's book to you.
Parenting as an introvert is not any more challenging than any other parenting point of reference, but the approach and reflections are different. I will be doing less parenting at home in the coming months, and Adam provided me an opportunity to reflect on the changing seasons of parenting and vocation in my household. I am thankful for the opportunity.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Loyalty Admired in Alberta with the Edmonton Oilers
I am an Edmonton Oilers hockey fan. I continue to learn about loyalty.
Though I don't dissect roster moves or organizational strategy with the Oilers like I do the Seattle Mariners, when the conversation turns to hockey, I have a reference point with the Oilers. I began following the Oilers when I was about 10-11 years old, watching CBUT out of Vancouver in my homes in the Puget Sound area. With Hockey Night in Canada and The National with CBC News, I became acquainted with Canadian life. My youth soccer team also participated in game exchanges between the two countries, and I traveled to Surrey and Vancouver, BC. My interest in Canada grew to where it is a hobby to follow Canadian life now in politics, culture and sport. During my early teenage years, I latched on to the rage in Canadian NHL hockey--the Edmonton Oilers, and I grew to enjoy watching Wayne Gretzky, Jari Kurri, Mark Messier, Grant Fuhr, Kevin Lowe, Craig MacTavish and Esa Tikkanen. They were a great team--an NHL dynasty. After Gretzky left, I continued to follow the team through thick and thin (and very thin right now).
Almost nine years ago, I checked off a line on my unofficial bucket list and made the trek to Edmonton with my wife, eight months pregnant. We flew into Calgary for my brother's wedding (I was jazzed he was marrying into a Canadian family), rented a car and fulfilled my longtime dream of attending an Edmonton Oilers home hockey game. Melanie was a good sport to attend this sporting event. Not a sports fan, she uses these opportunities to sample local cultures, exploring the arenas and stadiums to test cuisine and people watch. However, she noted it was hard to explore during the game because no one left their seats outside of intermission. About 90+ percent of the fans were wearing an Oilers sweater (jersey), or some other Oilers garb. The only other experience close to that in the 'States for professional sports was the St. Louis Cardinals Baseball Club--but Edmonton even had them beat. Melanie almost felt she couldn't leave during game play because eyes were glued to the game. The Oilers lost the game to Brett Hull and the Dallas Stars, 5-4 in OT, but if my hockey allegiance was ever in doubt, it was solidified that day.
During my recent trip to visit my brother and his family (Jimmy is working on his dissertation in Sports Management at the University of Alberta), we took in the must of every trip, an Oilers hockey game. The Oilers are a poor team this year. They are a team in transition--getting younger and faster, but also suffering a significant amount of injuries. Some nights they are barely competitive, and we saw them soundly defeated by the Los Angeles Kings, 2-0. It wasn't even that close. The Oilers have the worst record in the NHL this season, but the fans still turn out, they still watch the game. They pay high prices for tickets, beer and other concessions. Their sweaters aren't cheap, either. This game made me notice something that would surely be present in the United States with a bad team. US professional sports fans tend to vote with their feet. They tend to not show up for a bad team. The ones who do show up will boo their team. During the game we watched, the Oilers would have earned loud derision from the fan base. But not in Edmonton that night. They still lined up at the souvenir boutiques on the concourse to purchase a tactile piece of hope--new sweaters depicting the numbers of their developing heroes: Taylor Hall, Jordan Eberle, Magnus Paajarvi, to go along with their current stars, Ales Hemsky and Shawn Horcoff.
Sometimes I question blind loyalty, but I admire the loyalty on the banks of the River Saskatchewan to the Oilers. Though the team heroes are admired, it is also recognized that players come and go. The team and what it provides are the focal point for community, encouragement and camaraderie. These points are not lost on the hockey fans of Edmonton, Alberta. I wonder in the midst of such social phenomena whether there are equivalent applications for my life in the church. How much loyalty is too much? When does loyalty blind people to the opportunities of the future? How does God work in the midst of community? These were good questions for me to ponder as I admired my very small part in a community to which I admire from afar through my television, computer, and the occasional visit.
Though I don't dissect roster moves or organizational strategy with the Oilers like I do the Seattle Mariners, when the conversation turns to hockey, I have a reference point with the Oilers. I began following the Oilers when I was about 10-11 years old, watching CBUT out of Vancouver in my homes in the Puget Sound area. With Hockey Night in Canada and The National with CBC News, I became acquainted with Canadian life. My youth soccer team also participated in game exchanges between the two countries, and I traveled to Surrey and Vancouver, BC. My interest in Canada grew to where it is a hobby to follow Canadian life now in politics, culture and sport. During my early teenage years, I latched on to the rage in Canadian NHL hockey--the Edmonton Oilers, and I grew to enjoy watching Wayne Gretzky, Jari Kurri, Mark Messier, Grant Fuhr, Kevin Lowe, Craig MacTavish and Esa Tikkanen. They were a great team--an NHL dynasty. After Gretzky left, I continued to follow the team through thick and thin (and very thin right now).
Almost nine years ago, I checked off a line on my unofficial bucket list and made the trek to Edmonton with my wife, eight months pregnant. We flew into Calgary for my brother's wedding (I was jazzed he was marrying into a Canadian family), rented a car and fulfilled my longtime dream of attending an Edmonton Oilers home hockey game. Melanie was a good sport to attend this sporting event. Not a sports fan, she uses these opportunities to sample local cultures, exploring the arenas and stadiums to test cuisine and people watch. However, she noted it was hard to explore during the game because no one left their seats outside of intermission. About 90+ percent of the fans were wearing an Oilers sweater (jersey), or some other Oilers garb. The only other experience close to that in the 'States for professional sports was the St. Louis Cardinals Baseball Club--but Edmonton even had them beat. Melanie almost felt she couldn't leave during game play because eyes were glued to the game. The Oilers lost the game to Brett Hull and the Dallas Stars, 5-4 in OT, but if my hockey allegiance was ever in doubt, it was solidified that day.
During my recent trip to visit my brother and his family (Jimmy is working on his dissertation in Sports Management at the University of Alberta), we took in the must of every trip, an Oilers hockey game. The Oilers are a poor team this year. They are a team in transition--getting younger and faster, but also suffering a significant amount of injuries. Some nights they are barely competitive, and we saw them soundly defeated by the Los Angeles Kings, 2-0. It wasn't even that close. The Oilers have the worst record in the NHL this season, but the fans still turn out, they still watch the game. They pay high prices for tickets, beer and other concessions. Their sweaters aren't cheap, either. This game made me notice something that would surely be present in the United States with a bad team. US professional sports fans tend to vote with their feet. They tend to not show up for a bad team. The ones who do show up will boo their team. During the game we watched, the Oilers would have earned loud derision from the fan base. But not in Edmonton that night. They still lined up at the souvenir boutiques on the concourse to purchase a tactile piece of hope--new sweaters depicting the numbers of their developing heroes: Taylor Hall, Jordan Eberle, Magnus Paajarvi, to go along with their current stars, Ales Hemsky and Shawn Horcoff.
Sometimes I question blind loyalty, but I admire the loyalty on the banks of the River Saskatchewan to the Oilers. Though the team heroes are admired, it is also recognized that players come and go. The team and what it provides are the focal point for community, encouragement and camaraderie. These points are not lost on the hockey fans of Edmonton, Alberta. I wonder in the midst of such social phenomena whether there are equivalent applications for my life in the church. How much loyalty is too much? When does loyalty blind people to the opportunities of the future? How does God work in the midst of community? These were good questions for me to ponder as I admired my very small part in a community to which I admire from afar through my television, computer, and the occasional visit.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Consequences of the "Ownership Society" Considered
Americans don't have to look far to see the how the desire for home ownership led hundreds of thousands of people down a destructive path. Foreclosures, a teetering economy, and bankruptcy have people closely considering their personal, household and even congregational balance sheets.
What are the roots of these economic consequences?
Some people believe that economic unraveling is purely a management issue. People will look to the President, the Chair of the Federal Reserve, the Chief Financial Officer, the Business Manager, the Pastor, the Treasurer, the Family Budget Manager as the source for leadership in managing financial well-being for any nation, organization or family. If the budget is tinkered with just so, if the investments are adjusted and organized properly, all will be well. I'm not so sure.
This reflection is not meant to lift up a particular ideology. I am not espousing communism, socialism or even capitalism. What is a wise understanding of ownership?
Under consideration:
1. I believe that God owns everything. I am a steward of what belongs to God. I truly own nothing. I take care of what belongs to God. This knowledge affects my day to day decisions. This basic premise helps me do generous things, even though I am often selfish. It affects how I live with my wife, how we teach our children, and how we interact with others. Even with a steward mentality, stewards still make decisions about the degree of control they use. This is where management comes in to play.
2. Congregations have an interesting relationship with ownership.
4. The challenging aspect of ownership for many households and congregations involves resource allocation in order to be "owners." Even if debt-income ratios are judged as favorable, there is a significant loss of flexibility of both time and cash in many ownership situations. A building takes personal energy for both congregations and families, not only money. Meetings and labor are needed to maintain the facility, not only income. If a congregation or a household has a great idea or initiative that serves others in a powerful way, that idea is subject to the mortgage and the debt-income equation, and a calling to serve is often compromised.
I've learned a few things from this reflection. "The Ownership Society" was a dangerous proposition on a large scale, possibly because there were ulterior motives or other values were compromised in order achieve ownership. "Ownership" can be good to a certain extent (though there is no magic line that determines how much ownership is good, and having someone decide is foolish). The shakeout of household and congregational ownership is a matter of values and priorities. What do we value? How will we set our priorities? What resources do we need in order to live faithfully in accordance with our values? For Christians, the stewardship-ownership interface creates many challenges, but articulation of values and priorities create a reference point for daily action.
A few of the recent influences on my thinking:
The who decides question looms in the background, especially for congregations, but that is for a future post.
What are the roots of these economic consequences?
Some people believe that economic unraveling is purely a management issue. People will look to the President, the Chair of the Federal Reserve, the Chief Financial Officer, the Business Manager, the Pastor, the Treasurer, the Family Budget Manager as the source for leadership in managing financial well-being for any nation, organization or family. If the budget is tinkered with just so, if the investments are adjusted and organized properly, all will be well. I'm not so sure.
This reflection is not meant to lift up a particular ideology. I am not espousing communism, socialism or even capitalism. What is a wise understanding of ownership?
Under consideration:
1. I believe that God owns everything. I am a steward of what belongs to God. I truly own nothing. I take care of what belongs to God. This knowledge affects my day to day decisions. This basic premise helps me do generous things, even though I am often selfish. It affects how I live with my wife, how we teach our children, and how we interact with others. Even with a steward mentality, stewards still make decisions about the degree of control they use. This is where management comes in to play.
2. Congregations have an interesting relationship with ownership.
- Some congregations are mortgaged with their facilities to their eyeballs.
- Some congregations have saved and/or used their own sweat and labor, worshiping God in a church building that carries no debt.
- Some congregations generously share their facility with the community; many groups from the area meet and gather for serving and being served.
- Some congregations lock up their buildings after Sunday mornings and make statements like "we don't want to have too much wear and tear on the building," or "this is God's house" as a means to decide which groups meet in the church building.
- Some congregations proclaim "the church is not a building, it's people." How this statement is lived out takes on many forms. Sometimes it means rejecting building ownership. Sometimes it means mortgaging a future so the congregation can do ministry for people in their building now.
4. The challenging aspect of ownership for many households and congregations involves resource allocation in order to be "owners." Even if debt-income ratios are judged as favorable, there is a significant loss of flexibility of both time and cash in many ownership situations. A building takes personal energy for both congregations and families, not only money. Meetings and labor are needed to maintain the facility, not only income. If a congregation or a household has a great idea or initiative that serves others in a powerful way, that idea is subject to the mortgage and the debt-income equation, and a calling to serve is often compromised.
I've learned a few things from this reflection. "The Ownership Society" was a dangerous proposition on a large scale, possibly because there were ulterior motives or other values were compromised in order achieve ownership. "Ownership" can be good to a certain extent (though there is no magic line that determines how much ownership is good, and having someone decide is foolish). The shakeout of household and congregational ownership is a matter of values and priorities. What do we value? How will we set our priorities? What resources do we need in order to live faithfully in accordance with our values? For Christians, the stewardship-ownership interface creates many challenges, but articulation of values and priorities create a reference point for daily action.
A few of the recent influences on my thinking:
- Richard Florida writes, tweets, researches, speaks often on variables related to ownership and creativity. I encourage reading his blog, books and articles. Check him out when he speaks on television.
- A blog post from a Forbes writer on home ownership.
The who decides question looms in the background, especially for congregations, but that is for a future post.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Another untimely review: Winter's Bone
Decades of my life passed by before I had any awareness of what rural meant. I used to think a small town consisted of around 10,000 people.
Then I moved to Kansas for college. Mile after mile of grain fields passed by my windshield. Abandoned houses, farm implements and rusted vehicles dotted the landscape--some remnants of the farm crisis of the 1980s. I guessed that people moved to the cities. As a college student, I merely passed through, hoping to learn something about a sharply contrasted life from the middle and upper middle class homes along the shores of the Puget Sound and Lake Washington at some point, but my eyes were fixed on Lawrence. I inquired about rural areas, and my friends from the small towns couldn't understand my curiosity.
Years later, my family moved to South Dakota. Very similar landscape to Kansas, butI learned more exploring the smaller paved arteries many miles off the well-traveled thoroughfares of the Interstate. I traveled to Hudson, South Dakota, site of my first interim congregation. I became accustomed to the abandoned buildings, closed schools, and stares weighing upon me that might as well been a painted sign on plywood that said, "you don't belong here." It actually didn't take long before I was welcomed, sharing in unfamiliar cuisine, chatting at the local garage, and getting my haircut at the local hairdresser and learning more from her about local culture than I ever would as a pastor. The hospitality of neighbors taught me the questions I could ask, and sometimes I received an earful merely standing somewhere, curious, without asking anything.
One day a local resident dished out matter-of-factly that some people get high by placing hubcaps over cow pies. They bake the cow pies under the hubcaps in the hot sun, drill a hole in the hubcap, and suck the gas through a garden hose. I try not to waste my time with disgust, I continue to ask...why?
That story of the resourceful high and the why behind it still haunts me as I watched a deeper story of Ozark rural blight in the film "Winter's Bone." Though rural blight in the film is hard to ignore, the relational variables of secrets, adversity, and courage carry the plot.
Ree is a 17-year-old young woman patching together a family in tatters while negotiating the terror plots and lies of her local kin branded in a meth ring. Ree is the clear hero of the story, but the question I asked throughout the film is, will anyone take courage with her? Some of those closest to Ree are enemies of positive changes, illuminating the human condition. I think about people in my life and the places where I serve and their prospects of making positive changes in their lives. Whether the story I observe is addiction recovery, congregational change, or personal achievement, the resentment associated with moving to a better place in life brings destruction from people who are supposed to be supportive and wise. Ree is learning the ways of the world and wise beyond her years. But in many ways she is a child, and she meets allies when she least expects it--Ree is a local hero who also learns the importance of interdependence.
I continue to think about this film. After serving 10 congregations, what was affirmed in this story is that both poverty and secrets kill. There is no clear path to wholeness in the stories of poverty and secrets, but the church would go a long way to put its energy into being generous and present as opposed to shaking its head. Easier said than done. God, have mercy.
Then I moved to Kansas for college. Mile after mile of grain fields passed by my windshield. Abandoned houses, farm implements and rusted vehicles dotted the landscape--some remnants of the farm crisis of the 1980s. I guessed that people moved to the cities. As a college student, I merely passed through, hoping to learn something about a sharply contrasted life from the middle and upper middle class homes along the shores of the Puget Sound and Lake Washington at some point, but my eyes were fixed on Lawrence. I inquired about rural areas, and my friends from the small towns couldn't understand my curiosity.
Years later, my family moved to South Dakota. Very similar landscape to Kansas, butI learned more exploring the smaller paved arteries many miles off the well-traveled thoroughfares of the Interstate. I traveled to Hudson, South Dakota, site of my first interim congregation. I became accustomed to the abandoned buildings, closed schools, and stares weighing upon me that might as well been a painted sign on plywood that said, "you don't belong here." It actually didn't take long before I was welcomed, sharing in unfamiliar cuisine, chatting at the local garage, and getting my haircut at the local hairdresser and learning more from her about local culture than I ever would as a pastor. The hospitality of neighbors taught me the questions I could ask, and sometimes I received an earful merely standing somewhere, curious, without asking anything.
One day a local resident dished out matter-of-factly that some people get high by placing hubcaps over cow pies. They bake the cow pies under the hubcaps in the hot sun, drill a hole in the hubcap, and suck the gas through a garden hose. I try not to waste my time with disgust, I continue to ask...why?
That story of the resourceful high and the why behind it still haunts me as I watched a deeper story of Ozark rural blight in the film "Winter's Bone." Though rural blight in the film is hard to ignore, the relational variables of secrets, adversity, and courage carry the plot.
Ree is a 17-year-old young woman patching together a family in tatters while negotiating the terror plots and lies of her local kin branded in a meth ring. Ree is the clear hero of the story, but the question I asked throughout the film is, will anyone take courage with her? Some of those closest to Ree are enemies of positive changes, illuminating the human condition. I think about people in my life and the places where I serve and their prospects of making positive changes in their lives. Whether the story I observe is addiction recovery, congregational change, or personal achievement, the resentment associated with moving to a better place in life brings destruction from people who are supposed to be supportive and wise. Ree is learning the ways of the world and wise beyond her years. But in many ways she is a child, and she meets allies when she least expects it--Ree is a local hero who also learns the importance of interdependence.
I continue to think about this film. After serving 10 congregations, what was affirmed in this story is that both poverty and secrets kill. There is no clear path to wholeness in the stories of poverty and secrets, but the church would go a long way to put its energy into being generous and present as opposed to shaking its head. Easier said than done. God, have mercy.
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.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Shoring up the "family" in pastoral transition
As congregations emerge from a pastoral transition, the leadership begins discussion about what to do with those who have "strayed." People who further solidify their commitment to a congregation during a pastoral transition tend to believe that the public will be excited about their new pastor, as well as those who have lowered their commitment over the past few years. This part of transition is dangerous territory, mostly because this part of the path is thick with deeply rooted assumptions.
People who have increased their commitment to a congregation during a transition tend to assume the strayed members think like them and share their enthusiasm for a new pastor. If the perspective was shared, they would have been participating in the transition process in the first place. Those who have different commitment levels to the congregation do not warrant judgment, and if judgment is present, membership efforts will suffer. The public will probably be even less enthusiastic about a new pastorate. They may be curious about a new member of the community, but the public won't come rushing in just because a congregation welcomes a new pastor. To think otherwise overestimates the public presence of a congregation, especially in an age where congregations on the whole (especially in the Pacific Northwest) have eroded in their influence over the years. Even for a congregation deeply connected to public life, the social capital of a new pastor takes months and years of relationship building, both in trust and partnerships. This doesn't mean that the congregation should curb their enthusiasm about their new pastor or cut short their efforts to make public connections. Rather, congregations should be open minded about their expectations of the community.
Another assumption related to people whose commitment to a congregation wavers is linked to the desire to bring people back into the "family." I have strong suspicions (theologically and organizationally) of calling a congregation a family. However, the desire to bring back people who have lowered their commitment level feels as strong as the pull to bring back someone to a family fold who is/was estranged. That feeling is exacerbated in the midst of decline. The desire to reconnect with those who have separated from congregational life is not necessarily bad, but the methodology and responsibility must be clarified. In every interim ministry I served, a congregation assumes shoring up the "family" is the responsibility of the pastor. I tend to disagree with the idea of putting a lot of energy into shoring up the family, because this work tends to be done out of a position of anxiety rather than strength. If congregational leaders look at contacting people who have left the family as a means to get their numbers and budgets to better levels, the congregation is traveling a path that will lead to more anxiety and their work to connect will lack authenticity. If the methodology is rooted in a relational connection and an opportunity to learn about relational and ministry dynamics in the congregation, then the foundation for ministry will be stronger. I also struggle with the notion of "shoring up the family" because it is nearly impossible to have a conversation with someone who is walking away.
Regardless of the philosophy and theology of congregational membership, what I believe is of paramount importance is that a new pastor and congregational leadership have an understanding about methodology and responsibility related to membership. I have observed that this variable is the source of partnership breakdown in the both the previous pastorate and the new pastorate as well, and this variable is magnified in congregations that have experienced recent decline.
People who have increased their commitment to a congregation during a transition tend to assume the strayed members think like them and share their enthusiasm for a new pastor. If the perspective was shared, they would have been participating in the transition process in the first place. Those who have different commitment levels to the congregation do not warrant judgment, and if judgment is present, membership efforts will suffer. The public will probably be even less enthusiastic about a new pastorate. They may be curious about a new member of the community, but the public won't come rushing in just because a congregation welcomes a new pastor. To think otherwise overestimates the public presence of a congregation, especially in an age where congregations on the whole (especially in the Pacific Northwest) have eroded in their influence over the years. Even for a congregation deeply connected to public life, the social capital of a new pastor takes months and years of relationship building, both in trust and partnerships. This doesn't mean that the congregation should curb their enthusiasm about their new pastor or cut short their efforts to make public connections. Rather, congregations should be open minded about their expectations of the community.
Another assumption related to people whose commitment to a congregation wavers is linked to the desire to bring people back into the "family." I have strong suspicions (theologically and organizationally) of calling a congregation a family. However, the desire to bring back people who have lowered their commitment level feels as strong as the pull to bring back someone to a family fold who is/was estranged. That feeling is exacerbated in the midst of decline. The desire to reconnect with those who have separated from congregational life is not necessarily bad, but the methodology and responsibility must be clarified. In every interim ministry I served, a congregation assumes shoring up the "family" is the responsibility of the pastor. I tend to disagree with the idea of putting a lot of energy into shoring up the family, because this work tends to be done out of a position of anxiety rather than strength. If congregational leaders look at contacting people who have left the family as a means to get their numbers and budgets to better levels, the congregation is traveling a path that will lead to more anxiety and their work to connect will lack authenticity. If the methodology is rooted in a relational connection and an opportunity to learn about relational and ministry dynamics in the congregation, then the foundation for ministry will be stronger. I also struggle with the notion of "shoring up the family" because it is nearly impossible to have a conversation with someone who is walking away.
Regardless of the philosophy and theology of congregational membership, what I believe is of paramount importance is that a new pastor and congregational leadership have an understanding about methodology and responsibility related to membership. I have observed that this variable is the source of partnership breakdown in the both the previous pastorate and the new pastorate as well, and this variable is magnified in congregations that have experienced recent decline.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Remembering Dave Niehaus
This post is not meant to imply that I can't distinguish the difference between baseball and faith. I would never preach a sermon series on Dave Niehaus (though I have a sneaking suspicion some of this reflection will appear in my Sunday sermon). However, the death of Dave Niehaus and recognizing his impact on my life and thousands of people across the Pacific Northwest and baseball lovers across the country stirs reflection on similarities between what Dave Niehaus embodied and what I imagine the pastoral life to be.
For 34 seasons in games that spanned 6 months of the year, from spring training to the painfully infrequent, yet jubilant playoff appearances, Dave Niehaus shared with his listeners what I seek in myself as a pastor. Dave's signature voice was both the backdrop and forefront of my family's life since I was 6 years old. It is not a token statement to say that Dave radio depictions of a simple game taught me hope, joy, belief, wisdom, encouragement, storytelling, camaraderie, teamwork and passion.
I began to hear Dave's voice sitting in front of the console radio at my Grandparent's house in Renton. My parents attended the opening game, my father thrilled that baseball had returned to Seattle. He told me stories about the Seattle Rainiers and Seattle Pilots--his stories and memories of heroes, woven with stories of his own father, a man I never met. Beginning with my evenings in front of the console radio, I began to hear stories of my Gram, who listened to Portland Beavers baseball games with her father at their home in Camas, Washington, along the Columbia River. I was attached to Dave's voice almost instantly, developing my own heroes through his story telling. They weren't great players in those early years, but they were still my heroes: Ruppert Jones, Bob Stinson, Bill Stein, Diego Segui, Craig Reynolds, Enrique Romo, Rick Honeycutt. I wanted them to do well, just as Dave did. Dave even made food sound better with his distinctive voice--Darigold dairy products, and Langendorf Old Fashioned White Bread. Dave's voice was everywhere in our lives: as we participated in life's daily activities, travel, yard work, play, family gatherings of all kinds, and the frequent visits to my Grandparent's house. Dave's words became the words of my brothers John and Jimmy as we played wiffle ball wherever we could.
When I left the Pacific Northwest to pursue my own vocation and baseball life in the Midwest, I didn't realize how much I missed Dave Niehaus until I listened to broadcasts in other cities. The other cities had their signature broadcasters and calls, and were endearing to their fans--Herb Carneal and John Gordon in Minnesota, Bob Uecker in Milwaukee, Denny Matthews in Kansas City, no one I heard outside of Vin Scully in Los Angeles and Ernie Harwell of Detroit was in the league of baseball story tellers extraordinaire like Dave Niehaus. I appreciated the broadcasting craft, but the stories and telling of the game inspired in me a love for baseball and a passion for engaging life. Dave's words became a way that my family and friends brought some poetry and passion to our conversations. My friend Bret and I sometimes greeted each other with Dave-isms. I was thankful to have Dave's voice ring through my house in South Dakota once I could lounge on a summer day, with my wife Melanie joining my daughter in the backyard with a Mariners game streaming on my laptop from mlb.com. I was ecstatic to return to the Pacific Northwest in 2009 and reacquaint myself with more regular Niehaus contact. After hearing that the Mariners had traded for Cliff Lee during the 2009-10 off-season, I started to spout off Dave-isms in the car with my daughters on our daily commute.
"Ninety-eight mile an hour, high octane, GAS!"
"Swung on and belted!"
"Get out the rye bread and the mustard, Grandma, it's GRAND SALAMI time!"
"Diabolical. That stank!"
"Loooooowwwwwwwwwww, ball 3"
"Fly, fly, away!"
"My, oh, my!"
My 4-year old daughter sometimes echoed my exclamations, but sometimes she had to tell me to stop.
My family and friends imagined what it would be like if the Mariners ever won a World Series. I stated Dave Niehaus would spontaneously combust or die joyfully on the spot. Even if the Mariners staged a dramatic win 34 games out of first place, Dave shook the broadcast booth with his jubilation. He might not be able to contain himself.
In 1995, I thought the Mariners might get to that point of collective ecstasy. I was serving a congregation in Copenhagen on my pastoral internship. In the age before widely available Internet, I had to scour any piece of news to get my hands on the daily work of the surging Seattle Mariners. I lamented that I couldn't connect with Niehaus' words, but well over a decade of listening to Niehaus produced imagined descriptions in my mind's eye. My mentor and friend Steve Bain invited me to his home to spend the night so we could watch the playoff broadcasts in the wee hours of the morning, trying to contain ourselves just enough so that we wouldn't stir his sleeping family. We watched the national/international broadcast, all the time wishing or imagining we could hear Dave. Bleary eyed, yet joyful, I went to my work after watching the games, having slept maybe 2 hours. Good thing I was young at the time.
For the years 1995-2003, the Mariners often shaped the discussion of baseball excellence. They were the only example of "glory years" for the franchise, and even then, only about half of those years they were playoff teams. But Dave had a special lilt and enthusiasm in his voice during those years, and in some ways, I was most happy for him, because Dave was always present for the public and the Mariners, I felt he deserved some actual joy instead of hopeful joy (if those can be distinguished).
It was the other years of baseball that I learned more from Dave Niehaus. The Mariners have often been a bad baseball team. But my family has always been willing to listen, because Dave was always willing to lead the team and share the stories in his signature way. Listening to Dave in spring training and throughout the year, he always told a story of hope. He lived a life that said passion matters. Learning the facts matters. Encouraging the team matters. Seeing the best in people matters. Celebrating victories matters. He anticipated something good happening in every pitch or swing of the bat. It didn't matter that Dave's judgment of a batted ball was sometimes completely off, believing a lazy fly ball had home run potential. His hope and belief in what was possible for the Seattle Mariners was often endearing, yet on the whole, inspiring.
In some way, Dave Niehaus gave me a sense of interim ministry through all of those losing seasons. Dave gave me insight on how to go into a place and tell stories of hope in the midst of what appears bleak. That is part of my job in interim ministry, things that Dave did as a baseball broadcaster. To celebrate the daily joys of life. To offer wisdom and encouragements to teammates. To report on the context and goals of the organization. To live a life of thankfulness when many are tempted to dwell on the negative aspects of collective life. Jesus is my ultimate example of this kind of life. I do not know Dave Niehaus' faith, but he reminded me and highlighted to me some of what I am called to do in life.
Today I need to visit my 87-year old Gram and tell her that Dave Niehaus died. For 34 years his voice filled their house. That voice was second only to my Granddad. I remember during a baseball pilgrimage with my friend Cameron in 1991, we visited Tiger Stadium in Detroit. I knew my grandparents were listening, so I sent a message to the press box for Dave to greet June and Jerry Zubrod in Renton listening to the game. I knew he was glad to do it and my grandparents were thrilled to hear their names said by Dave. My mother saw Dave just a few weeks ago and shook his hand. He was gracious and hospitable, full of smiles and looking well. I'm glad she was able to show him some level of appreciation for his place in our family's life. It seems fitting that connection was made.
Thanks to Dave Niehaus and his family for sharing his gifts with the Pacific Northwest for 34 years. My life has been inspired and made better because of his gifts. I am sad, but I am thankful. This has been said many times over the past 18 hours, but fly, fly away, Dave. Thank God and thank you for the memories.
For 34 seasons in games that spanned 6 months of the year, from spring training to the painfully infrequent, yet jubilant playoff appearances, Dave Niehaus shared with his listeners what I seek in myself as a pastor. Dave's signature voice was both the backdrop and forefront of my family's life since I was 6 years old. It is not a token statement to say that Dave radio depictions of a simple game taught me hope, joy, belief, wisdom, encouragement, storytelling, camaraderie, teamwork and passion.
I began to hear Dave's voice sitting in front of the console radio at my Grandparent's house in Renton. My parents attended the opening game, my father thrilled that baseball had returned to Seattle. He told me stories about the Seattle Rainiers and Seattle Pilots--his stories and memories of heroes, woven with stories of his own father, a man I never met. Beginning with my evenings in front of the console radio, I began to hear stories of my Gram, who listened to Portland Beavers baseball games with her father at their home in Camas, Washington, along the Columbia River. I was attached to Dave's voice almost instantly, developing my own heroes through his story telling. They weren't great players in those early years, but they were still my heroes: Ruppert Jones, Bob Stinson, Bill Stein, Diego Segui, Craig Reynolds, Enrique Romo, Rick Honeycutt. I wanted them to do well, just as Dave did. Dave even made food sound better with his distinctive voice--Darigold dairy products, and Langendorf Old Fashioned White Bread. Dave's voice was everywhere in our lives: as we participated in life's daily activities, travel, yard work, play, family gatherings of all kinds, and the frequent visits to my Grandparent's house. Dave's words became the words of my brothers John and Jimmy as we played wiffle ball wherever we could.
When I left the Pacific Northwest to pursue my own vocation and baseball life in the Midwest, I didn't realize how much I missed Dave Niehaus until I listened to broadcasts in other cities. The other cities had their signature broadcasters and calls, and were endearing to their fans--Herb Carneal and John Gordon in Minnesota, Bob Uecker in Milwaukee, Denny Matthews in Kansas City, no one I heard outside of Vin Scully in Los Angeles and Ernie Harwell of Detroit was in the league of baseball story tellers extraordinaire like Dave Niehaus. I appreciated the broadcasting craft, but the stories and telling of the game inspired in me a love for baseball and a passion for engaging life. Dave's words became a way that my family and friends brought some poetry and passion to our conversations. My friend Bret and I sometimes greeted each other with Dave-isms. I was thankful to have Dave's voice ring through my house in South Dakota once I could lounge on a summer day, with my wife Melanie joining my daughter in the backyard with a Mariners game streaming on my laptop from mlb.com. I was ecstatic to return to the Pacific Northwest in 2009 and reacquaint myself with more regular Niehaus contact. After hearing that the Mariners had traded for Cliff Lee during the 2009-10 off-season, I started to spout off Dave-isms in the car with my daughters on our daily commute.
"Ninety-eight mile an hour, high octane, GAS!"
"Swung on and belted!"
"Get out the rye bread and the mustard, Grandma, it's GRAND SALAMI time!"
"Diabolical. That stank!"
"Loooooowwwwwwwwwww, ball 3"
"Fly, fly, away!"
"My, oh, my!"
My 4-year old daughter sometimes echoed my exclamations, but sometimes she had to tell me to stop.
My family and friends imagined what it would be like if the Mariners ever won a World Series. I stated Dave Niehaus would spontaneously combust or die joyfully on the spot. Even if the Mariners staged a dramatic win 34 games out of first place, Dave shook the broadcast booth with his jubilation. He might not be able to contain himself.
In 1995, I thought the Mariners might get to that point of collective ecstasy. I was serving a congregation in Copenhagen on my pastoral internship. In the age before widely available Internet, I had to scour any piece of news to get my hands on the daily work of the surging Seattle Mariners. I lamented that I couldn't connect with Niehaus' words, but well over a decade of listening to Niehaus produced imagined descriptions in my mind's eye. My mentor and friend Steve Bain invited me to his home to spend the night so we could watch the playoff broadcasts in the wee hours of the morning, trying to contain ourselves just enough so that we wouldn't stir his sleeping family. We watched the national/international broadcast, all the time wishing or imagining we could hear Dave. Bleary eyed, yet joyful, I went to my work after watching the games, having slept maybe 2 hours. Good thing I was young at the time.
For the years 1995-2003, the Mariners often shaped the discussion of baseball excellence. They were the only example of "glory years" for the franchise, and even then, only about half of those years they were playoff teams. But Dave had a special lilt and enthusiasm in his voice during those years, and in some ways, I was most happy for him, because Dave was always present for the public and the Mariners, I felt he deserved some actual joy instead of hopeful joy (if those can be distinguished).
It was the other years of baseball that I learned more from Dave Niehaus. The Mariners have often been a bad baseball team. But my family has always been willing to listen, because Dave was always willing to lead the team and share the stories in his signature way. Listening to Dave in spring training and throughout the year, he always told a story of hope. He lived a life that said passion matters. Learning the facts matters. Encouraging the team matters. Seeing the best in people matters. Celebrating victories matters. He anticipated something good happening in every pitch or swing of the bat. It didn't matter that Dave's judgment of a batted ball was sometimes completely off, believing a lazy fly ball had home run potential. His hope and belief in what was possible for the Seattle Mariners was often endearing, yet on the whole, inspiring.
In some way, Dave Niehaus gave me a sense of interim ministry through all of those losing seasons. Dave gave me insight on how to go into a place and tell stories of hope in the midst of what appears bleak. That is part of my job in interim ministry, things that Dave did as a baseball broadcaster. To celebrate the daily joys of life. To offer wisdom and encouragements to teammates. To report on the context and goals of the organization. To live a life of thankfulness when many are tempted to dwell on the negative aspects of collective life. Jesus is my ultimate example of this kind of life. I do not know Dave Niehaus' faith, but he reminded me and highlighted to me some of what I am called to do in life.
Today I need to visit my 87-year old Gram and tell her that Dave Niehaus died. For 34 years his voice filled their house. That voice was second only to my Granddad. I remember during a baseball pilgrimage with my friend Cameron in 1991, we visited Tiger Stadium in Detroit. I knew my grandparents were listening, so I sent a message to the press box for Dave to greet June and Jerry Zubrod in Renton listening to the game. I knew he was glad to do it and my grandparents were thrilled to hear their names said by Dave. My mother saw Dave just a few weeks ago and shook his hand. He was gracious and hospitable, full of smiles and looking well. I'm glad she was able to show him some level of appreciation for his place in our family's life. It seems fitting that connection was made.
Thanks to Dave Niehaus and his family for sharing his gifts with the Pacific Northwest for 34 years. My life has been inspired and made better because of his gifts. I am sad, but I am thankful. This has been said many times over the past 18 hours, but fly, fly away, Dave. Thank God and thank you for the memories.
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.
Friday, April 23, 2010
God revealed in conversation with daughter's mind
"The Wii is gone," I thought. "We've been broken into," I said under my breath.
At first I thought about being calm. I was mugged while I lived in Washington, DC. I was 25 years old. I called my mommy. Then I alerted my credit card companies. Then I called the police. I was going to be calm this time. Were the thieves still in the house?
My seven year old probably heard my statement. She screamed, "we were robbed!"
I called 911 immediately, hoping to get some help if the thieves were still there. My wife was over 2.5 hours away at work that evening. My parents were still at work. I couldn't leave because I wanted to meet the police. I wasn't sure what to do with the girls. I finally connected with my aunt, she came over with a friend. I called our insurance agent. The police came, asked some questions, searched the house, took some pictures. My parents came and took the girls for the evening.
No one was physically hurt. I thought the thieves took things that I found later. Later I discovered they took things I didn't realize at first. Family heirlooms were stolen. That hurts. They took my nice camera. That hurts. What they stole is not the point of this post. Stuff happens. We all adjust, react and cope in different ways. My wife, the heavy sleeper, who wouldn't wake up if you drove a truck through our bedroom, now wakes up multiple times per night. I feel more lethargic than I have in my entire life. My three year old shows no outward sign of knowledge of this break-in.
The most interesting aspect of this story is where I see God. After my seven year old screamed about what had happened, she grabbed a piece of loose leaf notebook paper and began to draw. I was glad because I didn't need to worry about her while I made phone calls. Within 15 minutes of coming into the house, my daughter drew the cartoon above. I'm still in awe of her craft. She has an Autism Spectrum Disorder. If I ever doubted the literature that ASD people think in pictures, I don't now. I lived her thoughts for that rare moment in time--and now I can better imagine the fears she experiences today. Everyone who walked into our home that evening saw her drawing. Maybe I marvel at the cartoon even more because I had to wait 4 years before I came close to a conversation with her. This cartoon depicts the thief coming into our house and taking the Wii. There are other characters that were not physically present in our house, like a snake and a stuffed lion toy, but I quickly knew what she created. I saw a gift in my daughter, and we connected. God revealed a gift in an anxious and painful situation--a call to me to develop that gift. Maybe she'll be an artist. Maybe I will look for a way for her to be mentored by a cartoonist. I do not know.
Even though this is my most challenging period of writing in the past two years (I'm finding it hard to create in the midst of violation and destruction), I'm taking joy in the creativity of my daughter. I wonder if this post is a turning point for me, but for now, my daughter's creativity is enough.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
40 day Journey with Martin Luther (Augsburg Books) Day 11: Sexuality and Honor
"...you are to defend, protect and rescue your neighbors whenever they are in danger or need, and moreover, even aid and assist them so that they may retain their honor...In short all are required both to live chastely themselves and also to help their neighbors do the same." --Martin Luther
Wow. How do I work with Luther and sexuality in a reasonable blog post? Any commandment could be a dissertation-length endeavor, but the Sixth Commandment regarding adultery and Luther's writing addressing sexuality takes on monumental proportions. The history of sexuality and the Church is a mixed bag. Encouraging the view of sexuality as a gift rather than something dirty or demonic is relatively new in Christian thought, though the argument for this outlook in Christian teaching is strong though not pervasive in history. Original Sin has been believed to be transmitted through sex and procreation. Sexuality has been abused through power, deception, manipulation and coercion. The list of abuses linked to sexuality is long. Therefore a definition that Luther advocates for purity and chastity didn't seem particularly helpful in his time (though I didn't live then, so what do I know) and they don't feel particularly helpful now. The teaching of Christians around sexuality has been so intertwined with shame and a misguided understanding of sin that I don't know what to do with some of Luther's writing on this subject.
However, I do appreciate the move Luther makes from addressing adultery with purity and chastity, and toward how we relate to our neighbor by retaining honor. There is honor and esteem in sexuality as a gift from God to be used cautiously and wisely, and that we work with our neighbors so that others do not have their sexuality abused through power, coercion or manipulation. This is a tall order--but the idea of honor is not as shame-based in understanding sexuality as purity or chastity, and gives us a basis for at least working toward giving women and men, boys and girls a sense of responsibility, respect, grace and healing related to sexuality. Chastity and purity are overly connected to shame, and though those words are not necessarily bad in and of themselves--the history with these words is too dark for them to be helpful anymore in understanding God's gift of sexuality.
Luther's writing about honor and implicit sexuality on the Sixth Commandment have powerful implications for how the Church relates to the community regarding sexual violence and the sex trade, and also how it prepares couples for marriage and builds up family relationships. This is indeed a tall order. God, have mercy.
Wow. How do I work with Luther and sexuality in a reasonable blog post? Any commandment could be a dissertation-length endeavor, but the Sixth Commandment regarding adultery and Luther's writing addressing sexuality takes on monumental proportions. The history of sexuality and the Church is a mixed bag. Encouraging the view of sexuality as a gift rather than something dirty or demonic is relatively new in Christian thought, though the argument for this outlook in Christian teaching is strong though not pervasive in history. Original Sin has been believed to be transmitted through sex and procreation. Sexuality has been abused through power, deception, manipulation and coercion. The list of abuses linked to sexuality is long. Therefore a definition that Luther advocates for purity and chastity didn't seem particularly helpful in his time (though I didn't live then, so what do I know) and they don't feel particularly helpful now. The teaching of Christians around sexuality has been so intertwined with shame and a misguided understanding of sin that I don't know what to do with some of Luther's writing on this subject.
However, I do appreciate the move Luther makes from addressing adultery with purity and chastity, and toward how we relate to our neighbor by retaining honor. There is honor and esteem in sexuality as a gift from God to be used cautiously and wisely, and that we work with our neighbors so that others do not have their sexuality abused through power, coercion or manipulation. This is a tall order--but the idea of honor is not as shame-based in understanding sexuality as purity or chastity, and gives us a basis for at least working toward giving women and men, boys and girls a sense of responsibility, respect, grace and healing related to sexuality. Chastity and purity are overly connected to shame, and though those words are not necessarily bad in and of themselves--the history with these words is too dark for them to be helpful anymore in understanding God's gift of sexuality.
Luther's writing about honor and implicit sexuality on the Sixth Commandment have powerful implications for how the Church relates to the community regarding sexual violence and the sex trade, and also how it prepares couples for marriage and builds up family relationships. This is indeed a tall order. God, have mercy.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
40 day Journey with Martin Luther (Augsburg Books) Day 9: Authority Issues
"In your words you are also to behave respectfully toward [your parents] and are not to speak discourteously to them, to criticize them, or to take them to task, but rather to submit to them and hold your tongue, even if they go too far." --Martin Luther
Why did Luther have to include honoring others in authority with honoring father and mother? It's hard enough honoring my parents. They've been good parents. They've sacrificed, worked hard, gone through agony for my sake and my brothers' sake--and they've been of good cheer for the most part. Even still, honoring them is still hard to the end that Luther writes regarding this commandment.
Last week's sermon by Bishop Rob Hofstad got me thinking about grace. Sometimes I am the giver of grace, sometimes I am the receiver of grace. Sometimes I don't know which one I am. I am now a parent and a son. I am a person of authority and one who is under authority of someone else. I want respect from those within my range of authority, but I also am called to give respect to those in authority in my life. What does it mean to criticize. Does respect mean to take everything from someone in authority at face value. I often learn from people in my range of authority, and I wouldn't learn as much if they didn't ask questions. I have been humbled by this commandment and Luther's interpretation as I have lived into adulthood. And the questions hang over my head, what about abusive situations? This is a challenging commandment interpretation. I think that God didn't get specific for this very reason. Luther is probably a bit off on the interpretation and that God had it right the first time around, so to speak.
Journal reflection:
How can honoring your parents become a spiritual practice for you?
I've been thinking about what I can do for my parents to extend them grace lately. They've been a huge help for us since we've moved here from South Dakota, watching our daughters on most weekends since I've started at First Lutheran Community Church. I don't want them to feel like their lives are a babysitting service. To some degree they have made up for some lost time with the girls when we lived in South Dakota. But I also want them to know that I love them for who they are and not merely what they do. A few weeks ago I took my Dad to a Seattle University basketball game, and we made an evening out of it. I need to do the same for my mom. This has been a spiritual practice for me, because it takes intentionality to honor them--I can't merely assume it's going to happen. Honoring is a matter of intentional investment--much like my relationship with God.
Why did Luther have to include honoring others in authority with honoring father and mother? It's hard enough honoring my parents. They've been good parents. They've sacrificed, worked hard, gone through agony for my sake and my brothers' sake--and they've been of good cheer for the most part. Even still, honoring them is still hard to the end that Luther writes regarding this commandment.
Last week's sermon by Bishop Rob Hofstad got me thinking about grace. Sometimes I am the giver of grace, sometimes I am the receiver of grace. Sometimes I don't know which one I am. I am now a parent and a son. I am a person of authority and one who is under authority of someone else. I want respect from those within my range of authority, but I also am called to give respect to those in authority in my life. What does it mean to criticize. Does respect mean to take everything from someone in authority at face value. I often learn from people in my range of authority, and I wouldn't learn as much if they didn't ask questions. I have been humbled by this commandment and Luther's interpretation as I have lived into adulthood. And the questions hang over my head, what about abusive situations? This is a challenging commandment interpretation. I think that God didn't get specific for this very reason. Luther is probably a bit off on the interpretation and that God had it right the first time around, so to speak.
Journal reflection:
How can honoring your parents become a spiritual practice for you?
I've been thinking about what I can do for my parents to extend them grace lately. They've been a huge help for us since we've moved here from South Dakota, watching our daughters on most weekends since I've started at First Lutheran Community Church. I don't want them to feel like their lives are a babysitting service. To some degree they have made up for some lost time with the girls when we lived in South Dakota. But I also want them to know that I love them for who they are and not merely what they do. A few weeks ago I took my Dad to a Seattle University basketball game, and we made an evening out of it. I need to do the same for my mom. This has been a spiritual practice for me, because it takes intentionality to honor them--I can't merely assume it's going to happen. Honoring is a matter of intentional investment--much like my relationship with God.
Friday, February 26, 2010
40 day journey with Martin Luther: Day 8 What is Sabbath?
"We are to fear and love God, so that we do not despise preaching or God's Word, but instead keep that Word holy and gladly hear and learn it." --Martin Luther
It was hard to reconcile Luther's words on the Third Commandment with what I had learned. I must admit that I have spent much more of my theology study time with Walter Brueggemann than with Luther. Brueggemann says that church people expel too much energy about what Sabbath means for the life of the Church and what the church is doing. That is not what Sabbath is about at all. Sabbath is means simply this, "stop working."
Luther is not afraid to interpret, so I don't fault him for making a statement about preaching and listening/reading God's Word (on the Sabbath or other times). However, I'm not persuaded by Luther's statement connecting Sabbath and God's Word. I think he writes out of a Christendom perspective and raises Christendom to the level of a commandment. I would think that Luther's interpretation of the Third Commandment might go better with the First Commandment. I'm not sure.
"Stop working" is actually one of the harder commandments to follow for me, because I believe my work is so important to the family, the congregation, and the world, that the world might fall apart if I stop working. I think God's Word works in tandem with stop working, because if I actually stop working, then the Word of God bubbles up in my consciousness.
I'm sticking with Brueggemann that Sabbath is not about church, but work stoppage. But I do think that God's Word can work in tandem with Sabbath, though not its intent. How's that for sitting on the fence? I think Brueggemann would go so far as to say Luther is wrong. Egad, a Lutheran even entertaining that idea on the Commandments??? Call me a false teacher...
Journal Reflection:
Reflect on the Sundays of your childhood.
Once my family actually started going to church when I was 9, it was definitely a discipline. I couldn't really get out of church. We attended, we sat in the front. We went to Sunday School or Confirmation. We stopped by the grocery store afterward, bought milk and a newspaper. Sometimes we would go to my Gram's house for dinner, and occasionally hop on a ferry to visit my Grandma on Whidbey Island. It was a day to visit with family. There were days I had soccer games or baseball games on Sundays, and I wore my uniform to church, but I was not going to miss a worship service. My parents were strict about that.
It was hard to reconcile Luther's words on the Third Commandment with what I had learned. I must admit that I have spent much more of my theology study time with Walter Brueggemann than with Luther. Brueggemann says that church people expel too much energy about what Sabbath means for the life of the Church and what the church is doing. That is not what Sabbath is about at all. Sabbath is means simply this, "stop working."
Luther is not afraid to interpret, so I don't fault him for making a statement about preaching and listening/reading God's Word (on the Sabbath or other times). However, I'm not persuaded by Luther's statement connecting Sabbath and God's Word. I think he writes out of a Christendom perspective and raises Christendom to the level of a commandment. I would think that Luther's interpretation of the Third Commandment might go better with the First Commandment. I'm not sure.
"Stop working" is actually one of the harder commandments to follow for me, because I believe my work is so important to the family, the congregation, and the world, that the world might fall apart if I stop working. I think God's Word works in tandem with stop working, because if I actually stop working, then the Word of God bubbles up in my consciousness.
I'm sticking with Brueggemann that Sabbath is not about church, but work stoppage. But I do think that God's Word can work in tandem with Sabbath, though not its intent. How's that for sitting on the fence? I think Brueggemann would go so far as to say Luther is wrong. Egad, a Lutheran even entertaining that idea on the Commandments??? Call me a false teacher...
Journal Reflection:
Reflect on the Sundays of your childhood.
Once my family actually started going to church when I was 9, it was definitely a discipline. I couldn't really get out of church. We attended, we sat in the front. We went to Sunday School or Confirmation. We stopped by the grocery store afterward, bought milk and a newspaper. Sometimes we would go to my Gram's house for dinner, and occasionally hop on a ferry to visit my Grandma on Whidbey Island. It was a day to visit with family. There were days I had soccer games or baseball games on Sundays, and I wore my uniform to church, but I was not going to miss a worship service. My parents were strict about that.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
40 day Journey with Martin Luther (Augsburg Books) Day 6: Using God's Name
"...we are commanded to use [God's name]...to use it in the service of truth and of all that is good--for example...when we call on God's name in time of need, or thank and praise him in time of prosperity, etc." --Martin Luther
I should have expected that any book dedicated to 40 days of Luther would have catechism in it. Sometimes I hope to get into something of Luther's writing that I haven't read, but this path is fine. What I have always appreciated about Luther is that he makes the commandments not merely about a list of prohibitions, but also about living out the commandment in a positive way. For the second commandment, I learn that a Christian life is not merely about what I don't say, but what I say. I call upon God in a time of need and that I give thanks as well. This is a call to use God's name, but by all means, use it with integrity and with faithfulness to the relationship.
Journal reflection:
Are asking, thanking and praising God daily "spiritual habits" for you?
I feel this is a growing area for me, as in, I am actually improving. The struggle right now is modeling this for my children. Our family life is too scattered right now to properly model spiritual habits for our children. The next step is to read Bible stories with them, and add a spiritual practice that reflects joy. We have a habit singing Jesus loves me before bed and making the sign of the cross on their forehead and saying, "Jesus loves you, and so do I." I want to add another practice during this time of discipline.
I should have expected that any book dedicated to 40 days of Luther would have catechism in it. Sometimes I hope to get into something of Luther's writing that I haven't read, but this path is fine. What I have always appreciated about Luther is that he makes the commandments not merely about a list of prohibitions, but also about living out the commandment in a positive way. For the second commandment, I learn that a Christian life is not merely about what I don't say, but what I say. I call upon God in a time of need and that I give thanks as well. This is a call to use God's name, but by all means, use it with integrity and with faithfulness to the relationship.
Journal reflection:
Are asking, thanking and praising God daily "spiritual habits" for you?
I feel this is a growing area for me, as in, I am actually improving. The struggle right now is modeling this for my children. Our family life is too scattered right now to properly model spiritual habits for our children. The next step is to read Bible stories with them, and add a spiritual practice that reflects joy. We have a habit singing Jesus loves me before bed and making the sign of the cross on their forehead and saying, "Jesus loves you, and so do I." I want to add another practice during this time of discipline.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
40 day journey with Martin Luther: Day 5 "True" Prayer
"God...wants you to lament and express your needs and concerns...in order that you may kindle your heart to stronger and greater desires and open and spread your apron wide to receive many things." --Martin Luther
I am culturally conditioned regarding the word "true." Often it is used to set someone over and above someone else, such as someone is a "true fan" if they do such and such a thing. Or a "true Christian" is someone who ascribes to particular doctrine or dogma. Luther appears to depict true prayer as someone who prays in earnest and with discipline. Earnest seems helpful on this occasion because method is left open and therefore examining self before prayer for intent becomes important.
Journal reflection:
"When do you feel closest to God?"
I feel closest to God in movement. It can be running, walking, driving. More of my senses are engaged--the beauty of surroundings, the sound of my breath and possibly music, the sound of animal life, human life and wind. Sometimes I smell something baking, the evergreens or the damp air. In a moving car I feel peace as the rubber rolls along the pavement. The car movement is calming and engages my brain in a powerful way. In these movements my brain engages in keeping balance, but after awhile my prayer directs me toward the important things of the day. Giving thanks helps me keep focused on the important things.
"Describe a time when your "whole heart" was at prayer. What feelings were evoked in you?"
My prayers for "whole heart" prayer don't seem all that focused. It usually comes in a time of distress. When things aren't right with my wife or daughters--illness or danger. My attention toward them and to God are in deep earnestness. If I'm thinking and praying about them, does that make it a whole heart prayer? Is prayer about focus, or earnestness? I don't know. But there is a feeling of total dependence. Maybe that is whole heart prayer.
I am culturally conditioned regarding the word "true." Often it is used to set someone over and above someone else, such as someone is a "true fan" if they do such and such a thing. Or a "true Christian" is someone who ascribes to particular doctrine or dogma. Luther appears to depict true prayer as someone who prays in earnest and with discipline. Earnest seems helpful on this occasion because method is left open and therefore examining self before prayer for intent becomes important.
Journal reflection:
"When do you feel closest to God?"
I feel closest to God in movement. It can be running, walking, driving. More of my senses are engaged--the beauty of surroundings, the sound of my breath and possibly music, the sound of animal life, human life and wind. Sometimes I smell something baking, the evergreens or the damp air. In a moving car I feel peace as the rubber rolls along the pavement. The car movement is calming and engages my brain in a powerful way. In these movements my brain engages in keeping balance, but after awhile my prayer directs me toward the important things of the day. Giving thanks helps me keep focused on the important things.
"Describe a time when your "whole heart" was at prayer. What feelings were evoked in you?"
My prayers for "whole heart" prayer don't seem all that focused. It usually comes in a time of distress. When things aren't right with my wife or daughters--illness or danger. My attention toward them and to God are in deep earnestness. If I'm thinking and praying about them, does that make it a whole heart prayer? Is prayer about focus, or earnestness? I don't know. But there is a feeling of total dependence. Maybe that is whole heart prayer.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
My relationship with paper and the printed word is slipping away
How is your relationship with paper these days?
Recently my aunt revealed a family artifact from the 1940's. It was a large volume of The Daily (newspaper) from the University of Washington. My Granddad in his college days worked for The Daily in various capacities. The paper itself was heavy, almost like parchment, and the ink had an emerging neon like-quality outlining the black of the nostalgic typeface. The ads depicted products and services likely departed from institutional memory.
"What do we do with it?" First things first, I had to put it down. It was heavy. I thought it might be able to be a coffee table book, assuming the table was the size of a standard door. I wondered if the U Dub would want this archival piece, but I'm sure they have their fair share of archives. "Let's keep it in the family." I appreciated the sentiment, because I will examine the volume one day. In some ways I wasn't sure it was wise to keep. This volume is big, bulky, and a lot of paper. I wondered about the value and usefulness of this paper.
Last night at a meeting, a member of the congregational Transition Team handed me a piece of paper with an article about our work together for the church newsletter. I didn't want the piece of paper. I'm less likely to read the piece if the writing is on paper. I asked her if she could email it to me. I was a little surprised by my request. I immediately started thinking about how I ended my newspaper subscription at the end of November. I like some of the tactile activity of reading the newspaper, but I don't miss it like I thought I would. My cycle of actions is beginning to disengage my life from the printed word. About the only reading I look forward to reading is a letter or card from a family member or friend, or a book I'm looking forward to reading, or for most of my Bible study. I imagine that will change soon, I can't quite get myself to direct 300 dollars toward a Kindle at this time. The iPhone I purchased in October has expedited the shift from paper to electronic communication and reading.
I know others have gone through this transition without much thought, pain or reflection. I can't say what I'm feeling with disengaging from paper is pain. I think that paper is a medium for relationships. My understanding of news and writing came through my relationship with my Granddad and paper. I still like writing and receiving cards from the people I love--especially handwritten cards. The Bible carries a bit more meaning when I turn pages and use my hands with the gentle motion of page turning and using my finger. This is my relationship with God we are talking about.
I can now imagine a day where I am not reading a printed word on paper for hours at a time. Last night I caught a glimpse of that life and the transition I am making. I'm not sure my life will be hurt by this change. That life is definitely different.
Recently my aunt revealed a family artifact from the 1940's. It was a large volume of The Daily (newspaper) from the University of Washington. My Granddad in his college days worked for The Daily in various capacities. The paper itself was heavy, almost like parchment, and the ink had an emerging neon like-quality outlining the black of the nostalgic typeface. The ads depicted products and services likely departed from institutional memory.
"What do we do with it?" First things first, I had to put it down. It was heavy. I thought it might be able to be a coffee table book, assuming the table was the size of a standard door. I wondered if the U Dub would want this archival piece, but I'm sure they have their fair share of archives. "Let's keep it in the family." I appreciated the sentiment, because I will examine the volume one day. In some ways I wasn't sure it was wise to keep. This volume is big, bulky, and a lot of paper. I wondered about the value and usefulness of this paper.
Last night at a meeting, a member of the congregational Transition Team handed me a piece of paper with an article about our work together for the church newsletter. I didn't want the piece of paper. I'm less likely to read the piece if the writing is on paper. I asked her if she could email it to me. I was a little surprised by my request. I immediately started thinking about how I ended my newspaper subscription at the end of November. I like some of the tactile activity of reading the newspaper, but I don't miss it like I thought I would. My cycle of actions is beginning to disengage my life from the printed word. About the only reading I look forward to reading is a letter or card from a family member or friend, or a book I'm looking forward to reading, or for most of my Bible study. I imagine that will change soon, I can't quite get myself to direct 300 dollars toward a Kindle at this time. The iPhone I purchased in October has expedited the shift from paper to electronic communication and reading.
I know others have gone through this transition without much thought, pain or reflection. I can't say what I'm feeling with disengaging from paper is pain. I think that paper is a medium for relationships. My understanding of news and writing came through my relationship with my Granddad and paper. I still like writing and receiving cards from the people I love--especially handwritten cards. The Bible carries a bit more meaning when I turn pages and use my hands with the gentle motion of page turning and using my finger. This is my relationship with God we are talking about.
I can now imagine a day where I am not reading a printed word on paper for hours at a time. Last night I caught a glimpse of that life and the transition I am making. I'm not sure my life will be hurt by this change. That life is definitely different.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
The power of expectations and God's in-breaking
Preaching to a group of people who are focused on the word being shared is a rare occurrence. People may be listening or paying attention, catching a phrase here and there, or having their ears tuned in when a statement comes around that piques interest. I don't blame people for whatever takes their attention away from worship. Getting bits and pieces of scripture readings, picking up a phrase from a sermon, or remembering a line of a song in worship is one thing. Focus on a worship service is another. I don't expect perfect focus from anyone--but when focus is there in a worship service, I take notice. A sample of when I have experienced worship focus:
+ At worship services in a prison ministry setting.
+ At a funeral.
+ When a worshiping community is experiencing acute distress.
+ Last night at the Blue Christmas service.
Focus in worship is hard. Focus is especially hard for me when I am escorting my children to a house of worship. They're interested in things that happen in worship. But they don't pay attention to anything for 60 minutes, even if they like what is going on. So I attend to their needs, which takes me away from focus in worship. But I also want my children in the sanctuary-and I can see from my own experience the multitude of ways in which our connection with God at a worship service is fragmented. People have a lot on their minds, it's hard to decompress and focus. It usually takes me hours to defragment my brain to the point where I can take in a worshipful and prayerful experience. I think we could take a lesson from the Quakers about silence leading to worship and being filled by the Holy Spirit. I don't think we would have any community if we held three hour worship services with the first two hours filled with silence.
Blue Christmas was a time of focus in worship. I had never been a part of this kind of worship service in the past. I had to learn about its flow from my wife (her congregation in Sioux Falls hosted annual Blue Christmas services) and other congregations who posted their experience on the internet. I invited people who didn't feel like celebrating during the holiday season for whatever reason, yet wanted to observe the birth of Christ. We sang some of the more peaceful Christmas hymns (What Child Is This, O Little Town of Bethlehem). As I looked out into the congregation during the readings (Isaiah 7: 10-14, Matthew 1: 18-23) people were focused. What I realized is that these people were not there out of habit, social convention, or some scope of expectation (family, community, personal faith, traditional faith). The people who gathered last night appeared to be there out of pure need to have some peace and hope in the midst of pain. What a powerful evening of the in-breaking of God in Christ--Immanuel.
James Boyce from Luther Seminary offers great commentary about the Matthew story of Jesus' birth, which was the text focus for my sermon last night. Boyce talks about the presence of God in a set of messy circumstances, where Joseph is making decisions related to law, family, marriage, divorce, and community-of-faith-expectations. Joseph is obedient to the vision of Mary having a child who will be Jesus, Immanuel--but God breaks through expectations and meets humanity at the mess in which we live. Christmas as we celebrate it is often about what we do and what we expect to happen--and the carnage that often comes when we are so anxious about our expectations, and those expectations aren't met. This is what I find is most troubling about "The War On Christmas" (Thanks to Toby Keith and Stephen Colbert for their War On Christmas satire). This "war" is focused on what we do, and not on what God is doing. People came to worship last night to find out what God is doing in the midst of their pain--and were they ever focused. People who struggle to celebrate Christmas at a particular time in their lives because of personal pain heard (hopefully) that God broke into the world in the midst of at least one person's (Joseph) struggle amidst messy relationships and powerful community, personal and traditional expectations--and that God is present in their lives. There is nothing wrong with having expectations for the wonder and joy of our celebrations, but it is more important to know that God continues to break in to the world regardless of our expectations and execution of those expectations. God meets us where we are--and nothing will separate us from the love of God.
I found great joy in meeting a need last night that was not encumbered by many different levels of sometimes crushing expectations. We gathered last night where pure need and the pure grace of God in Christ met. Thanks to all of those who worked to provide parts of the service. Thanks to all of those who reached out when we extended an invitation. Thanks be to God for the gathering through the Holy Spirit.
+ At worship services in a prison ministry setting.
+ At a funeral.
+ When a worshiping community is experiencing acute distress.
+ Last night at the Blue Christmas service.
Focus in worship is hard. Focus is especially hard for me when I am escorting my children to a house of worship. They're interested in things that happen in worship. But they don't pay attention to anything for 60 minutes, even if they like what is going on. So I attend to their needs, which takes me away from focus in worship. But I also want my children in the sanctuary-and I can see from my own experience the multitude of ways in which our connection with God at a worship service is fragmented. People have a lot on their minds, it's hard to decompress and focus. It usually takes me hours to defragment my brain to the point where I can take in a worshipful and prayerful experience. I think we could take a lesson from the Quakers about silence leading to worship and being filled by the Holy Spirit. I don't think we would have any community if we held three hour worship services with the first two hours filled with silence.
Blue Christmas was a time of focus in worship. I had never been a part of this kind of worship service in the past. I had to learn about its flow from my wife (her congregation in Sioux Falls hosted annual Blue Christmas services) and other congregations who posted their experience on the internet. I invited people who didn't feel like celebrating during the holiday season for whatever reason, yet wanted to observe the birth of Christ. We sang some of the more peaceful Christmas hymns (What Child Is This, O Little Town of Bethlehem). As I looked out into the congregation during the readings (Isaiah 7: 10-14, Matthew 1: 18-23) people were focused. What I realized is that these people were not there out of habit, social convention, or some scope of expectation (family, community, personal faith, traditional faith). The people who gathered last night appeared to be there out of pure need to have some peace and hope in the midst of pain. What a powerful evening of the in-breaking of God in Christ--Immanuel.
James Boyce from Luther Seminary offers great commentary about the Matthew story of Jesus' birth, which was the text focus for my sermon last night. Boyce talks about the presence of God in a set of messy circumstances, where Joseph is making decisions related to law, family, marriage, divorce, and community-of-faith-expectations. Joseph is obedient to the vision of Mary having a child who will be Jesus, Immanuel--but God breaks through expectations and meets humanity at the mess in which we live. Christmas as we celebrate it is often about what we do and what we expect to happen--and the carnage that often comes when we are so anxious about our expectations, and those expectations aren't met. This is what I find is most troubling about "The War On Christmas" (Thanks to Toby Keith and Stephen Colbert for their War On Christmas satire). This "war" is focused on what we do, and not on what God is doing. People came to worship last night to find out what God is doing in the midst of their pain--and were they ever focused. People who struggle to celebrate Christmas at a particular time in their lives because of personal pain heard (hopefully) that God broke into the world in the midst of at least one person's (Joseph) struggle amidst messy relationships and powerful community, personal and traditional expectations--and that God is present in their lives. There is nothing wrong with having expectations for the wonder and joy of our celebrations, but it is more important to know that God continues to break in to the world regardless of our expectations and execution of those expectations. God meets us where we are--and nothing will separate us from the love of God.
I found great joy in meeting a need last night that was not encumbered by many different levels of sometimes crushing expectations. We gathered last night where pure need and the pure grace of God in Christ met. Thanks to all of those who worked to provide parts of the service. Thanks to all of those who reached out when we extended an invitation. Thanks be to God for the gathering through the Holy Spirit.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Sermon Prayers and Thoughts: Staring at the Barren Ground: People, Look East!
The sermons of December are related to favorite stories connected to Jesus' birth. Before we get to Jesus' birth, we take a visit to the family birth story of John the Baptist and his parents, Zechariah and Elizabeth in Luke 1.
Birth stories are popular to this day. Melanie and I recently watched the popular film "Knocked Up." The story highlights the birth of a child in a tenuous situation--which is actually a common theme. Even though the circumstances have some unique qualities today, there are some common themes to all stories related to birth.
Elizabeth and Zechariah's story follows a long tradition of stories related to the arrival of a child. Though the circumstances from story to story may be different, a lot of similar things happen. The parents-to-be are anxious. They move through periods of excitement, amazement, doubt, bewilderment and feelings of inadequacy. This is very common in story telling. When a familiar story is told, it engages the audience, but also makes them more sensitive to differences in characters. Biblical scholar Amy-Jill Levine shares some excellent work related to how story types in the Bible are very important in conveying messages about God, faith and community life. It doesn't take a sophisticated mind to recognize story patterns--if we name a type of story, we almost don't have to watch the story to give a basic outline of the plot. If I say "Western," you can probably give a plot outline. If I say "murder mystery," you can give a plot outline. If I say "situation comedy from the 1970's," I could give a plot outline. As a child, Tuesday evening television was devoted to my indoctrination into the power of familiar stories. If I had done my homework and got ready for bed, I could watch Happy Days and Laverne & Shirley. I knew the plot lines for Happy Days and Laverne & Shirley: each one of the characters took their turns in messing something up, only to be remedied by a young and cool Italian man. One of those Italian heroes being Arthur Fonzarelli, the other being Carmine Ragusa. They weren't the most educated, or even wealthy. Their M.O. was using their own special gift in a pressure situation. Carmine believed in honor, and his artistic abilities. The FONZ was all about grace under pressure. He really didn't even need to throw a punch, though occasionally showed the ability to throw a punch. I think I liked these characters because I was also an aspiring young Italian man who wanted to make a difference in people's lives.
Birth stories are prevalent in the Old Testament. Why tell a birth story? What does the birth story say about God and God's people?
Genesis 11 is part of the story of Abraham and Sarah and their son, Isaac.
Genesis 25 is part of the story about Isaac and Rebekah and their son, Jacob.
Genesis 29 is part of the story about Jacob and Rachel and their son, Joseph.
Judges 13 tells the story of Samson and his parents.
1 Samuel tells the story of Samuel's parents Eli and Hannah.
What do all of these stories have in common besides the birth of a son? Each of these women is considered "barren." The audience of these stories probably knew what was coming next in these kinds of stories, probably recognizing the same nuances I did with my Tuesday night situation comedies on ABC KOMO TV4. Though each of these women are barren, each has its own twist of plot or characterization.
A few interesting points about Elizabeth and Zechariah. Zechariah was a priest and charged with the care of communal faith life. He was living his calling and making a difference for the community of faith. Elizabeth was a descendant of Moses' brother Aaron. This was an important couple in the community. Luke 1:6 tells us that both were blameless and upright, following the commandments of God. Yet, Elizabeth was barren--she could not give birth to a child, what some might consider a curse. Like in the story of Job, the main characters have done nothing to deserve the circumstance in their life. Barrenness is not seen as a consequence, but a condition of life--and an opportunity.
I really love my life when things seem to click and move well. I like it when I'm funny. I like it when I have a good conversation with my wife, or connect with my kids. I like life when I have a good idea, or solve a problem. I like it when I read voraciously, write prolifically and pray earnestly. The problem is those times become a temptation to think I can somehow live without God (kind of interesting when I actually have a good prayer life). When life is not clicking, I think God is absent, but actually God is at work. Barrenness in Luke chapter 1 is not a punishment, or the absence of God, but an open field for the love and action of God to be made known for the people who are looking. Even though Zechariah and Elizabeth experienced barrenness, they still couldn't see the possibilities that God had through them. Even though Zechariah was blameless, he had famous last words (literally and figuratively), challenging the Angel Gabriel, "But my wife is getting on in years." His doubt landed a long sentence of muteness. So much for being blameless and upright.
Whatever barrenness we experience in life, personal or communal, it is time for the people of God to "look East," and look up and proclaim the action of God, even in places that appear to be barren. God is at work.
Birth stories are popular to this day. Melanie and I recently watched the popular film "Knocked Up." The story highlights the birth of a child in a tenuous situation--which is actually a common theme. Even though the circumstances have some unique qualities today, there are some common themes to all stories related to birth.
Elizabeth and Zechariah's story follows a long tradition of stories related to the arrival of a child. Though the circumstances from story to story may be different, a lot of similar things happen. The parents-to-be are anxious. They move through periods of excitement, amazement, doubt, bewilderment and feelings of inadequacy. This is very common in story telling. When a familiar story is told, it engages the audience, but also makes them more sensitive to differences in characters. Biblical scholar Amy-Jill Levine shares some excellent work related to how story types in the Bible are very important in conveying messages about God, faith and community life. It doesn't take a sophisticated mind to recognize story patterns--if we name a type of story, we almost don't have to watch the story to give a basic outline of the plot. If I say "Western," you can probably give a plot outline. If I say "murder mystery," you can give a plot outline. If I say "situation comedy from the 1970's," I could give a plot outline. As a child, Tuesday evening television was devoted to my indoctrination into the power of familiar stories. If I had done my homework and got ready for bed, I could watch Happy Days and Laverne & Shirley. I knew the plot lines for Happy Days and Laverne & Shirley: each one of the characters took their turns in messing something up, only to be remedied by a young and cool Italian man. One of those Italian heroes being Arthur Fonzarelli, the other being Carmine Ragusa. They weren't the most educated, or even wealthy. Their M.O. was using their own special gift in a pressure situation. Carmine believed in honor, and his artistic abilities. The FONZ was all about grace under pressure. He really didn't even need to throw a punch, though occasionally showed the ability to throw a punch. I think I liked these characters because I was also an aspiring young Italian man who wanted to make a difference in people's lives.
Birth stories are prevalent in the Old Testament. Why tell a birth story? What does the birth story say about God and God's people?
Genesis 11 is part of the story of Abraham and Sarah and their son, Isaac.
Genesis 25 is part of the story about Isaac and Rebekah and their son, Jacob.
Genesis 29 is part of the story about Jacob and Rachel and their son, Joseph.
Judges 13 tells the story of Samson and his parents.
1 Samuel tells the story of Samuel's parents Eli and Hannah.
What do all of these stories have in common besides the birth of a son? Each of these women is considered "barren." The audience of these stories probably knew what was coming next in these kinds of stories, probably recognizing the same nuances I did with my Tuesday night situation comedies on ABC KOMO TV4. Though each of these women are barren, each has its own twist of plot or characterization.
A few interesting points about Elizabeth and Zechariah. Zechariah was a priest and charged with the care of communal faith life. He was living his calling and making a difference for the community of faith. Elizabeth was a descendant of Moses' brother Aaron. This was an important couple in the community. Luke 1:6 tells us that both were blameless and upright, following the commandments of God. Yet, Elizabeth was barren--she could not give birth to a child, what some might consider a curse. Like in the story of Job, the main characters have done nothing to deserve the circumstance in their life. Barrenness is not seen as a consequence, but a condition of life--and an opportunity.
I really love my life when things seem to click and move well. I like it when I'm funny. I like it when I have a good conversation with my wife, or connect with my kids. I like life when I have a good idea, or solve a problem. I like it when I read voraciously, write prolifically and pray earnestly. The problem is those times become a temptation to think I can somehow live without God (kind of interesting when I actually have a good prayer life). When life is not clicking, I think God is absent, but actually God is at work. Barrenness in Luke chapter 1 is not a punishment, or the absence of God, but an open field for the love and action of God to be made known for the people who are looking. Even though Zechariah and Elizabeth experienced barrenness, they still couldn't see the possibilities that God had through them. Even though Zechariah was blameless, he had famous last words (literally and figuratively), challenging the Angel Gabriel, "But my wife is getting on in years." His doubt landed a long sentence of muteness. So much for being blameless and upright.
Whatever barrenness we experience in life, personal or communal, it is time for the people of God to "look East," and look up and proclaim the action of God, even in places that appear to be barren. God is at work.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Thanksgiving aftershock averted by restoration
Thanksgiving, Advent, and Christmas can be stressful times in a pastor's life. I still think it merely ranks #3 on the list of busy/stressful times of the year for a pastor. #1 is Lent/Easter. #2 is September programming kick-off time.
What carries me through the last two months of the year is that November and December carry a unique set of joys--images of light, harvest, new beginnings, abundance, hope, natural beauty, peace and gathering. Sometimes I go into December wondering how I can possibly complete the tasks in front of me. My Thanksgiving service sermon addressed that the path to God's restorative power in both individual and corporate life is through gratitude (at least according to Psalm 126). I've received more feedback on this sermon than any I have preached in three months at First Lutheran Community Church. The blessing of sharing that word was that we had an abundance of gifts gathered at the FLCC sanctuary that night. The people of four congregations (Elim Lutheran, Spirit of Life Lutheran, St. Bede's Episcopal and FLCC) contributed on many levels and came to celebrate the goodness of God. Psalm 126 had something specific to say to each congregation and individual, because in these days of darkness, both literally and figuratively, we all need God's restoration. Each congregation is dealing with their own darkness whether it's related to denominations, polity and theology, or finance and resources. Gratitude is a path to God's restoration.
This morning I had the gift of crossing the Tacoma Narrows with the expansive view of a blue moon, the snowy Olympic Mountains, the sun shimmering on the Salish Sea, the bridge reaching up to the sky as if praising God, and the evergreen trees standing like a welcoming and guiding sentry to those traveling to the Kitsap Peninsula. At that moment I had a concrete application of gratitude: if I ever took for granted the scenery God created for me to view and traverse as a youth, I will never take it for granted again. I think we know that gratitude is enhanced by singing, but it's one thing to know it, and another thing to do it. My three-year-old, Ashling, encourages me to loudly express that gratitude, "Sing, Daddy! Sing!" We've got our own song to express gratitude recently: "Alright" by Darius Rucker. Ashling is great at keeping me connected to restorative music. Psalm 126 reminded me about the power of gratitude, that gratitude is God's method of restoration. Ashling tells me to sing that gratitude--that gratitude is a practice, a discipline, and a joyful practice at that. After an evening church council meeting and a long list of tasks for the day, I don't approach them with dread or live in an aftershock from challenges and anxiety. That restoration gave me the opportunity to proclaim hope in the power of the Holy Spirit at work in the congregation while I met with a group of men from FLCC at their weekly breakfast. We talked about what God is up to--and they shared even more restorative encouragement to me. Thank God I am restored, and I'll be ready to go that well again.
What carries me through the last two months of the year is that November and December carry a unique set of joys--images of light, harvest, new beginnings, abundance, hope, natural beauty, peace and gathering. Sometimes I go into December wondering how I can possibly complete the tasks in front of me. My Thanksgiving service sermon addressed that the path to God's restorative power in both individual and corporate life is through gratitude (at least according to Psalm 126). I've received more feedback on this sermon than any I have preached in three months at First Lutheran Community Church. The blessing of sharing that word was that we had an abundance of gifts gathered at the FLCC sanctuary that night. The people of four congregations (Elim Lutheran, Spirit of Life Lutheran, St. Bede's Episcopal and FLCC) contributed on many levels and came to celebrate the goodness of God. Psalm 126 had something specific to say to each congregation and individual, because in these days of darkness, both literally and figuratively, we all need God's restoration. Each congregation is dealing with their own darkness whether it's related to denominations, polity and theology, or finance and resources. Gratitude is a path to God's restoration.
This morning I had the gift of crossing the Tacoma Narrows with the expansive view of a blue moon, the snowy Olympic Mountains, the sun shimmering on the Salish Sea, the bridge reaching up to the sky as if praising God, and the evergreen trees standing like a welcoming and guiding sentry to those traveling to the Kitsap Peninsula. At that moment I had a concrete application of gratitude: if I ever took for granted the scenery God created for me to view and traverse as a youth, I will never take it for granted again. I think we know that gratitude is enhanced by singing, but it's one thing to know it, and another thing to do it. My three-year-old, Ashling, encourages me to loudly express that gratitude, "Sing, Daddy! Sing!" We've got our own song to express gratitude recently: "Alright" by Darius Rucker. Ashling is great at keeping me connected to restorative music. Psalm 126 reminded me about the power of gratitude, that gratitude is God's method of restoration. Ashling tells me to sing that gratitude--that gratitude is a practice, a discipline, and a joyful practice at that. After an evening church council meeting and a long list of tasks for the day, I don't approach them with dread or live in an aftershock from challenges and anxiety. That restoration gave me the opportunity to proclaim hope in the power of the Holy Spirit at work in the congregation while I met with a group of men from FLCC at their weekly breakfast. We talked about what God is up to--and they shared even more restorative encouragement to me. Thank God I am restored, and I'll be ready to go that well again.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Don’t let public discourse about Christmas get you down
(This article will appear in the upcoming December edition First Lutheran Community Church newsletter)
Jesus is the reason for the season.
Why do people say “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas” these days?
There’s a war on Christmas in this country.
I am thankful to an ELCA colleague in Upstate New York, Pastor Justin Johnson, for his blog post guiding my reflection on my Advent and Christmas practices regarding the meaning of Jesus’ birth and how I observe and celebrate that world-changing event with my family and the Church. I do not ascribe to any of the aforementioned statements about Christmas. Why? Because these statements represent public discourse about how people wish to direct their energy in the month of December (give or take a few weeks or months). These statements represent preferences, and the propensity for humans to want their preferences to be normative for the entire society or culture. Another point regarding public discourse about Christmas is the frenzied tone created to gain television ratings, make a political statement, or sell us something. None of these public discourse goals is inherently evil, but I believe we should recognize different public conversations regarding conversations for what they are--not the guiding force for how we connect with God.
How could anyone possibly articulate the “true meaning of Christmas” when people are arguing about their preferences? Each congregation, family, neighborhood or city can have their own local customs regarding their celebration. It is my responsibility to lift up the story of Jesus’ birth and what it means for us as Lutheran Christians. I look for what the birth of Jesus says about the identity and activity of God. All of the cultural attachments to Christmas are wonderful in that they represent our diversity as God’s children—our culture around Christmas connects us with people we love and presents to us opportunities to serve our neighbor. It is our calling as Lutheran Christians to celebrate what God is doing in the story of the birth of Jesus. It is important to recognize what we can proclaim as normative through the story about Jesus’ birth. The arguments stated at the beginning of this article represent more about what humans do than what God does. Let us welcome our neighbors to worship with us on Christmas Eve at 5, 7, and 9 pm and tell them what this birth story says about God (just to name a few things):
+ God is passionate about being with us in our humanity and values humanity.
+ God doesn’t connect with people because of societal position. God seeks to empower the outcasts.
+ The powers of the world are no match for the love of God in Christ Jesus.
+ God has big ideas and work for the world (and for us) with Jesus.
My message to you: marvelously enjoy your family and congregational celebrations. Love and serve your family, friends and neighbors. Do what you can and try not to do too much. But also give your voice to proclaim that God’s actions in Jesus give us the opportunity to live our lives with joy. May this season of anticipation of God’s action in the birth of Christ bring you joy and peace.
Jesus is the reason for the season.
Why do people say “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas” these days?
There’s a war on Christmas in this country.
I am thankful to an ELCA colleague in Upstate New York, Pastor Justin Johnson, for his blog post guiding my reflection on my Advent and Christmas practices regarding the meaning of Jesus’ birth and how I observe and celebrate that world-changing event with my family and the Church. I do not ascribe to any of the aforementioned statements about Christmas. Why? Because these statements represent public discourse about how people wish to direct their energy in the month of December (give or take a few weeks or months). These statements represent preferences, and the propensity for humans to want their preferences to be normative for the entire society or culture. Another point regarding public discourse about Christmas is the frenzied tone created to gain television ratings, make a political statement, or sell us something. None of these public discourse goals is inherently evil, but I believe we should recognize different public conversations regarding conversations for what they are--not the guiding force for how we connect with God.
How could anyone possibly articulate the “true meaning of Christmas” when people are arguing about their preferences? Each congregation, family, neighborhood or city can have their own local customs regarding their celebration. It is my responsibility to lift up the story of Jesus’ birth and what it means for us as Lutheran Christians. I look for what the birth of Jesus says about the identity and activity of God. All of the cultural attachments to Christmas are wonderful in that they represent our diversity as God’s children—our culture around Christmas connects us with people we love and presents to us opportunities to serve our neighbor. It is our calling as Lutheran Christians to celebrate what God is doing in the story of the birth of Jesus. It is important to recognize what we can proclaim as normative through the story about Jesus’ birth. The arguments stated at the beginning of this article represent more about what humans do than what God does. Let us welcome our neighbors to worship with us on Christmas Eve at 5, 7, and 9 pm and tell them what this birth story says about God (just to name a few things):
+ God is passionate about being with us in our humanity and values humanity.
+ God doesn’t connect with people because of societal position. God seeks to empower the outcasts.
+ The powers of the world are no match for the love of God in Christ Jesus.
+ God has big ideas and work for the world (and for us) with Jesus.
My message to you: marvelously enjoy your family and congregational celebrations. Love and serve your family, friends and neighbors. Do what you can and try not to do too much. But also give your voice to proclaim that God’s actions in Jesus give us the opportunity to live our lives with joy. May this season of anticipation of God’s action in the birth of Christ bring you joy and peace.
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