Minefields and opportunities in learning for pastors and congregations

The field of continuing education for pastors and congregations presents both minefields and opportunities for reaching a goal.

What are the minefields:

1. Cost. My congregation was faced with an opportunity for an educational event for both me and 2-4 leaders from the congregation. I won't go into all of variables for attending, only that attending is about as close to being a "need" without actually being a need. The event is semi-annual, with the next event gathering in Houston, Texas. Round-trip airfare, tuition, hotel and other expenses, we were probably looking at $2-4K to make that trip. I pondered the opportunity cost for that trip for several weeks. I go to the training because it's part of my job, and the training does have value. For others, I'm asking individuals in my congregation to invest at least 4 days away from work and family.

2. Efficacy. I have heard some great theologians, teachers, leaders and preachers over the years at educational events. Some presentations were a waste of time. Sometimes this was the speaker's fault (delivery, under prepared), sometimes it was mine (I can have a bad attitude), sometimes it was the planner(s) of the event. Sometimes the responsibility is shared. Some speakers had a profound effect on me during that particular moment--it was something I needed to hear. I didn't necessarily require that person's words would profoundly change my life every day for the next 10 years, only that their insight was part of my overall sustenance and encouragement. It's like a feast. Feasts everyday can lose their meaning over time. Occasionally shared, feasts are the spice of life. I think about this when I reflect on events where I've heard Will Willimon, Sandra Day O'Connor, Martin Marty, and Maya Angelou. These kind of speakers draw people to come to conferences. These are wise people, and their words can be helpful and insightful. However, in my experience, these kinds of events don't necessarily elicit much change in my work. From some learning events I have returned home with some books, a binder full of materials, or have my email inbox filled with Power Points and documents. Rarely do I look at these documents ever again. That may be just as much about my habits as it is about educational philosophy, but I also know that I am not alone in owning a bookshelf loaded with books, boxes and binders holding the dusty hope of personal and organizational renewal.

After attending Unconference11 in May, the minefields of education became clearer to me about how I would invest learning time and resources in the future. Rock star quality speakers are not required (but hey, if they want to come and participate like everyone else, great!).

Where are the opportunities?

Connecting communication technologies (social media, blogs, web) provide key components to any learning and change opportunity. Learning is just as much about relationships as it is information. This is not an educational newsflash--many educational approaches gain leverage through relationships. However, I have observed that in church circles, there's still a lot of weight placed in bringing a big name speaker and implicitly inflicting death by Power Point for an educational event. The problem is, if I want the material I gain to truly take root, there needs to be relationship networks ready and available to take my enthusiasm as a convert and weave it in to the fabric of my life. #Unco11 #Unco12 #chsocm (specific Twitter linked communities) have provided access and friendships with other learners so that I gain support, insight, challenge, and an opportunity to share as well.

As I look at the minefields and opportunities for goal reaching in continuing education for pastors and congregations, I fear testing my own theories. I want to host an educational event. I believe that communication strategies for pastors and congregations are important in their work of sharing the Good News of Jesus. I don't need to host a big top event. It's time to trust the relationships I have built and that God will be present in not only where two or three are gathered, but will gather again as the relationships continue.

Still interpreting a teacher's comment--15 years later

Last month, I started podcasting my sermons (I apologize to any regular followers this week, tech difficulties prevented last Sunday's audio). This has forced me to listen to my recorded voice, which is far from a pleasant experience. Listening to my own voice bring memories from seminary to the surface.

Both of my preaching professors had distinct senses of humor, more so than my other professors. Maybe that's why they were preaching profs in the first place. It wasn't unusual for most of the burgeoning preachers to come in as a completely unformed slab of clay, waiting to be shaped. My teacher loved to offer quips about the art of shaping preachers. He used to say that the end of each academic year, he would travel to his lakeside cabin where it was completely quiet, and stand on his head for a week. He wanted all of the student sermons swimming around in his head to flow out of his brain, and out through his ears into the earth so he could come back in the fall to take in more sermons.

I couldn't ascertain whether my teacher called me Josephus because he had hope for me as a preacher, or that he was trying to make my name a little more interesting (I know the feeling). Toward the end of the term, he looked at me after one of my sermons and said to me, "Josephus, you have a voice that can weld." To this day, I'm not sure how to take that comment. Is my voice powerful? Does my voice bring metal together? Or is my sermon delivery as such that you need protective clothing and not look directly at it, lest you singe your retinas and/or flesh?

Putting sermons further out into the public sphere creates an interesting dynamic. Churches are public places; though as my teacher Pat Keifert has often said, we often treat our worship spaces like family homes rather than public places, much to our detriment. A message seems easier to control in the confines of a family home--but what of mission and the Great Commission?

Putting my sermons even more out in public still feels risky, especially when I'm trying to figure out if this welding voice of mine is a good thing or a bad thing.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Bridgeport Way SW,Lakewood,United States

Overrated in Congregational Life: The "Summer Slump Letter"

Some people mark the changing of the seasons by holidays. Some people don't mark the changing of seasons with terms like solstice and equinox, but Memorial Day weekend, the 4th of July, Labor Day, and Easter.

Congregations can mark the changing of the seasons from the giving messages they receive via email or snail mail. You know it's autumn when you receive a letter asking for a pledge in the coming year. You know it's winter when you receive a letter to remind you of your last opportunity to make a tax-deductible donation for the fiscal/tax year. You know summer has arrived when you receive a reminder letter that congregational giving is often down during the summer months and that budget strains are acute during that time. Kennon Callahan called this the "Summer Slump Letter." Forget keeping a calendar or looking at the weather. Look at your mailbox or inbox. You'll know what season it is then. I've seen several Summer Slump letters already this summer. They're a little early this year--the economy must be bad. Slap a Bible verse or a prayer on the end of the plea, mark a season, proclaim deficit awareness, and spiritualize it. There you have the Summer Slump letter.

For many congregations, tight budgets are a way of life. Even for congregations flush with cash from a bequest or a land deal, I have yet to encounter a congregation that doesn't agonize over financial resources in some way (I see congregations flush with cash who fight more than congregations with tight budgets, but that is another story).

After seeing numerous cycles of letters and emails sent to congregational members over the years, congregational coffers should be full of donations, deeply moved and inspired by the letters they receive. These letters have probably been written for several decades. Have they made a difference (please let me know if they have)?

Why bother writing these letters?

Congregational leadership wrangles over the budget during most monthly meetings, if not all of them. Letters send a message that the leadership is not ignoring the tight budget, but doing SOMETHING. It usually makes them feel better, not to mention puffing up their own sense of accomplishment if they are giving themselves. Sometimes congregational leadership will go so far as to scold the congregational members for not giving. How well does scolding go (please let me know if you have a scolding success story)?

Callahan suggests that if there is a summer slump time in the congregation that it has to be planned for throughout the year, not addressed as a surprise occurrence each year. What might be a better approach to addressing a giving trend that is lower during the summer months?

1. Rarely will summer giving dips be adequately addressed during the actual summer months. These trends have to be addressed during the budgeting process, not when resource issues reach panic levels.

2. Some assumptions about congregational giving must be released. New members do not mean more money for a congregation, in fact, new members will probably mean resources will become even more strained. The new member + new member = more money fallacy is rooted in a notion that a congregation is the center of a given culture. With that in mind consider the next point.

3. Giving is based on a relationship. My late grandmother gave to ministries when she connected with the television preacher or Bible study leader. I didn't necessarily like how or to whom she gave, but the television ministry connected with her faithfully and regularly, more than even her own family. Even with a television, a kind of personal connection is made. How much better a connection is made when congregational leaders facilitate intentional, face to face communication with a listening posture? With a letter, nothing is learned about the recipient. A face to face meeting, though labor and time intensive, provides learning beyond measure. Face to face meetings are opportunities to learn about what God is doing through that person and how that activity can be shared with the body of Christ. Face to face communication is a high risk, high reward venture.

I invite you to share your wisdom about summer slumps or any other giving season issues you would like to discuss.

Do you know what season it is in your congregation? Check your inbox or mailbox--the overrated Summer Slump letter may be there.

Imagining small church mission

What does it mean to be part of a small church?

This week, I began service as the pastor of St. John's Lutheran Church in Lakewood, Washington. St. John's is a gathering of approximately 40 people in Sunday morning worship. By almost any definition, St. John's is a small church. My small church experience is a small portion of my life with congregations.

1. I served an interim ministry at New Life Lutheran Church in Sergeant Bluff, Iowa, a community at the time of about 40 people in worship.
2. I served an interim ministry at a three-point parish in Lyman County, South Dakota. One of the congregations was distinctly small in Kennebec, the congregations in Vivian and Presho could be large enough to classify differently.

From experience, observation and study, here are the small church thoughts in my mind.  I am taking an inventory of small church experiences. It should also be noted that as an interim pastor, I never lived in a small church community. There was always an understanding that I had relational access to people's lives, yet remained an outsider.

Congregational size is not the only variable of consequence. Region, denomination, judicatory, education and other variables can enter the discussion, but the focus of this reflection involves what I have gathered about small churches.

1. Often the small church is described with a sense of "plight." The small church is depicted in church circles as suffering or in disarray. Both seem to be associated with suburban migration of the mid- to late- 20th century; a migration that dwindled the size of both urban and rural congregations. The plight is that resources to fund urban or rural congregations fades as people leave, much like other urban and rural social institutions. Small churches can still thrive, I believe, but it also depends on the shared definition of what thriving means.

2. Power in small congregations must flow through the matriarchs and/or patriarchs of the congregation. Several decades ago, Arlin Rothauge published a short book on congregational size dynamics and named the 0-50 worship attendance congregation as a "family" church. Rothauge's observations have been parsed in congregations and church leadership circles for the better part of three decades. In this size of congregation, the members are often highly invested and see pastors come and go for many different reasons (see #3).

3. Pastoral leadership in small congregations often exists in a state of flux. Small congregations often cannot afford a full-time pastor, or an experienced pastor, because the salary levels cannot support clergy with a family living at home, or a pastor carrying large amounts of student loan debt. With pastors coming and going quickly, congregations develop a pattern of behavior where they can "wait out" the pastor and all of that particular pastor's ideas for ministry if they don't care for them.

4. In a small congregation, everyone knows everyone else. So the proverb goes--but I think this is a bit of a myth or euphemism for an intimacy that cannot be assumed. There may be a higher degree of familiarity among members/worshiper in small congregations than large congregations, but that does not necessarily reflect a depth of relationship.

5. What a small church needs is to replicate what is done at a large congregation. Reading a favorite blog, Church Marketing Sucks (CMS), I was reminded of how easily the replication notion is perpetuated. Large churches have the resources to share their experience, wisdom and knowledge with others. They share that information with pastors and congregations, and the small congregations often end up feeling inferior about what God is doing among them. As someone who has served both small and large congregations, this is not intentional, but it still goes on. Frustration continues to mount about good leadership resources for small congregations. The blog post from CMS reminded me about small-large congregation leadership dynamic.

In the end, what seems to matter is that people in a congregation can imagine a unique sense of mission independent of the aforementioned factors. This does not mean God's mission is lived in a vacuum. On the contrary, I think the question related to the Parable of the Good Samaritan is operative, "And who is my neighbor?" We need to know something about our neighbor in order to share good news in Christ.

Who is God? What is God doing? Who is my neighbor? I still have much to learn about small churches and the small church I am serving, but I need to remember these questions, and I look forward to addressing these questions with people in the community.

The Interpretive Challenge of Unconference11

Human life in this age places value on experience. Each experience elicits a degree of response. A television program can be watched with varied responses. The responses can be laid out on a continuum. Some responses offer a short shelf-life: "can you believe that American Idol vote last night?" Each episode will only be dissected for so long for some. For others, the episode may accumulate with others and inspire a vocal performance career.

Any experience offers an opportunity for interpretation. I have attended numerous continuing education events over the years. Each learning experience, though varied in content, offered a very similar structure. A speaker/teacher of great repute travels and meets traveling participants for a provision of information. It's like I back my empty informational truck into a dock for a load of information. Though the content may be complex, the transaction is simple. I pay money. I receive information. I receive a binder or folder full of notes and handouts I will not likely crack open again. I receive a Power Point file attached to an email that clogs a memory stick or sits on my hard drive. I may have more information, but the information nourishes my body as if I attempted nourishment by swallowing a palm full of vitamins without eating any food. The intake at a conference may hold nutritive qualities, but the information isn't sticky. The typical workshop/conference/symposium in church circles fails the stickiness test. My library is a testimony to this observation. I store many binders with hope of using the material again, yet I often don't. This failure doesn't speak to the quality of the information, but the context in which it was delivered. Every educational experience challenges the participant to interpret the information to their own context. Conference hosts over the years have recognized that more people from each context increases the stickiness of the information (Bring a group! Save money! Broaden the application!) but the methodology still lacks the stickiness necessary for integration.

Unconference11 was a powerful experience for me. Not only because it represented a spiritual milestone for me, but because there was something incarnational about it. Fleshy and sticky. There was not only information shared, but relationships were graciously hosted with God and others. Every participant was given the opportunity to contribute and be respected. This is not what usually comes out of a conference. The ethos of a typical conference resembles a rock concert. If only you can get close to the star, get a backstage pass, some of that star quality might rub off into your context.

Last night I ate dinner with good friends who, like me have attended numerous conferences and workshops. They know the routine. Talk about the greatness of the speaker, the cutting edge discovery or technique, the idea that will change our contexts. I realized last night that I couldn't explain the experience in the same way that I have explained other learning events covering about 20 years of my life.

The challenge of interpreting Unconference11 remains. What will matter in these weeks ahead? First of all, I gathered with a small group of folks passionate about subversive and new ministry developments. I hope to resource this group of people as I enter into a trajectory of ministry new to me. I am thankful for that opportunity. Most of all, the interpretive challenge of Unco11 will not be whether I can share what exactly I learned and experienced among friends. I was respected. I was valued. I was given the opportunity to contribute both truth and beauty. I was healed and loved. No "conference" I have ever attended has done that. My inclination is that though my work and life in the church looks a lot like the conferences I have attended for 20 years--a lot of vitamins, but no nourishment. The interpretive challenge is not that I can replicate Unco11 in my context, but whether in my context I can share in the work of healing, respect, love and creativity. This sounds a lot like Jesus to me.

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.

Another untimely review: Black Swan

I would not have seen this movie had my wife not wanted to see it. That's a good thing about being in a relationship--taken to places I would not have gone on my own. I have nothing against ballet as an art form, I've enjoyed a small handful of ballets in my lifetime, but when it comes to investing my entertainment dollar, ballet remains in the recesses of my mind, and probably aided by the dearth of ballet in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

My favorite film critic Ann Hornaday (Washington Post) once again prompted me away from resistance to Black Swan, and with an evening away from our children in Spokane, I was ready to take on a film labeled as dark.

If you have yet to see Black Swan, dark isn't the half of it. Any Saturday Night Live fan knows Natalie Portman can take on a dark side in the comedic sense. Any fan of drama/thrillers knows she can execute dark in the relational sense in Closer. Black Swan is not so much about ballet as it is about the inner battle of self. Granted, world-class ballet provides a high pressure backdrop for an inward battle, but this kind of struggle could happen in several professions. However, the contrast between beauty and ugliness in Black Swan is stark and chilling. Winona Ryder (first time I've seen her in an interesting role in years) and Mila Kunis are both up to the high bar set with Portman's performance.

What kept me thinking about this film a week after I viewed it is the presence of mental illness in the film and what a puzzle remains with mental illness. This film is not One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest in that the story operates as an expose of institutional mental illness, but an examination of triggers to mental illness and ruminations about environmental factors, namely extreme levels of competition and hyper self-image awareness.

What I enjoyed about this film also is that it seems so far away from my life in the church. But it really shouldn't be. I could not imagine knowing someone with such struggles as Portman portrays. I wonder how well the church shows grace in lives that are seen in Black Swan. For the time I watched the film, I didn't have to worry about it, but now a part of me is haunted by that possibility.

Another untimely review: The Social Network

I am late to the Facebook party. For a few months, I've been a wallflower at the Facebook party, content to dance with my wife, who is my date to this party. To this party, I have brought a book, and a lot of other things to do.

Just because I'm not participating in the party does not mean I'm not interested in what is going on. I'm intrigued by the theories behind the interaction and relationships. I'm annoyed that social media is criticized for being a network of faux relationships. People are going to use Facebook, Twitter and the like, and the methodology of these relationships will evolve. I will do my best to observe the qualities of these interactions and offer theological and social science perspectives with as open a mind as possible. I'm not really sure Facebook is for me. I find the Facebook platform a bit overwhelming, like I felt about dances in high school and college. I have been a bit defiant about Facebook over the past two years, but I've chosen to be more of a curious observer and student of the platform rather than an outspoken critic.

The movie The Social Network has changed my perspective enough that I am willing to learn more about Facebook. I got to that point through the review of Ann Hornaday of the Washington Post. I enjoy her film reviews with Tony Kornheiser on Fridays, and her praise of The Social Network caused me to reflect on my relationship with social media more deeply. Rather than see Facebook as a mere toy, time-passer, or cultural fad, watching the film gave me a deeper sense of the connection between communication, relationships and commerce. We all make choices about our communication methodology. The call for a Christian is to discern how to make the way we communicate a reflection of the grace we have received. In that sense, Facebook is value neutral. However, the Social Network does not make any of the main characters, or even the folks with the bit parts look good. No character is glorified. What I find compelling is the craft and intelligence behind the platform, and what sin can do to any method of communication. The Social Network is driven by story and script writing (skillfully and enjoyably executed), and not reliant on the cache of the actors (though I agree with Hornaday that their skill should be recognized). For any student of human relationships and talents, The Social Network is a positive investment of your time.

If you think that The Social Network is not worth your time, at least learn from this review that the wallflowers at the party will go on observing while others are partying it up.

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.

Giving Credit Where Credit is Due to my ELCA Sisters and Brothers

Yesterday I highlighted some missed opportunities and future possibilities for my ELCA friends and colleagues regarding connections, learning and conferences. Today I learned via Twitter about an ELCA-sponsored conference: Follow Me: Sharing The Gospel in a 2.0 World. It's time to give credit where credit is due. I am thankful that my colleagues are using the resources available to them for evangelism and relationship building.

The promotional page for Follow Me is laid out well, offering opportunities to connect with Twitter hash tags, a Facebook event page and an invitation to blog. I think the event is worthy of its own Twitter account--and probably its own web page (linked to the ELCA site, but not necessarily embedded in its own brand). As of 1130am Pacific Time August 12, I read about 30 tweets from participants. I added each tweeter whom I was not already following to my own follow list and look forward to further connections, even though I am not attending the conference. I did not know about the conference until I saw the tweets this morning. Having a separate Twitter account for a conference creates expanded opportunities to attract participants--using those who are excited about the conference to expand publicity. What the Follow Me conference has offered is more of what I hoped for when I attended the Rethinking Stewardship Conference through Luther Seminary in July.

The conference target audience "communicators, campus ministry chaplains/staff, and college/university students" leaves me a little puzzled. I can understand the energy generated for those involved in campus ministry and young adults involved in higher education. "Communicators" is the hook that opens up the conference to many more than the other targets. "Communicators" is a continual growing identity edge for ELCA congregations. I'm not sure that congregations see themselves as shared communicators of the Gospel--they often look to the pastor for this communication. All congregations have a story to tell and now have many tools at their disposal to tell that story. My current congregation, First Lutheran Community Church in Port Orchard, WA, is learning that they have a story to tell, and how we can tell that using the tools available. The scope of public congregational presence is a flattening enterprise, and I see my current season of interim ministry at FLCC to help the congregation embrace that they all have a role in sharing the God's story through FLCC to the public and that they desire connection.

I find the Follow Me Conference hopeful--I wish I could be attending--and I'm glad I can connect with the material later. I wonder how the folks attending will connect with ELCA Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson. I wonder how expanding ministry tools will be embraced. I usually wonder what God is up to, and I am glad that the Spirit has expanded my wondering.

Proclamations of Hope and Encouragement are Subtle Game-Changers

Today I entered a local restaurant for some lunch where a congregation member works. I like going into the work places of congregation members--most of the time they appreciate the surprise. The move is more natural when the workplace sells something I might need, but it's not a requirement for me to stop by.

During our conversation, the woman said to me that she was looking forward to our worship service on the Port Orchard Waterfront (August 29th, 10am). I told her I appreciated hearing that. Trying something new in a congregation often invites skepticism and questions. I don't mind that people ask questions. Questions provide an opportunity to build ownership of a new ministry in the congregation. Questions provide a strategy for a developed sense of purpose. Sometimes the questions and skepticism are all I hear or congregational leaders hear--and that can prevent people from trying new things, but I am thrilled when leaders persevere. A new ministry represents a new level of work. Habits don't necessarily work, new connections must be made, new trails must be blazed. To hear a word of encouragement like that is a subtle game-changer. I look at the game plan for that Sunday, and the tasks become not a source of fear, but opportunity.

As the conversation continued, the woman shared with me that her daughter was bringing her boat to dock for the service and that it might encourage her to be a part of the congregation. That bit of encouragement got me thinking broader: where am I going to get a boat and an adequate sound system so I can preach to the boaters?  Proclamations of hope and encouragement are subtle game-changers.

The Cautionary Tale of the Whitman Mission

While I lived in South Dakota, I read about anything I could about the Pacific Northwest. I missed the connections to the familiar, comforting, yet mystifying land. I missed the mist on my skin that dampened me, yet didn't get me wet. I missed the salty air that reminded me of the bountiful sea and all its creatures, both familiar and alien. I missed the evergreens that served as green sentries that guided my paths. Though I could only visit my beloved Washington about once or twice per year, through the research and story telling of others, my own stories, memories and observations were fertilized for a time when I would not be part of the Pacific Northwest diaspora, but a participant observer replanted in my land of origin.

Years passed before I made a connection between God and the land. I knew that God created the heavens and the Earth, but I was directed in my thoughts toward an understanding that God cared more about humans than the land itself. As I studied the Old Testament in seminary, I realized the land is a much more powerful character and player in biblical story and that place matters throughout scripture--though the land and place are not widely researched in theological circles, I have come to appreciate the distinctive nature of place sociologically and theologically. John Inge (a bishop in the Church of England) and Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann address theological questions of place and land.

While reading a Pacific Northwest history by Carlos Schwantes, I encountered a new story to me, the story of a massacre at the Whitman mission in southeast Washington state, near Walla Walla. On November 29, 1847, 13 people were killed at the mission site by peoples of the Cayuse and Umatilla tribes. Numerous interpretations of the events surrounding the massacre exist, but the story represents many tensions for me as a local theologian, pastor, student, and native of the Pacific Northwest. The Whitmans came to the region prepared to deliver their way of life to the Cayuse and Umatilla peoples--a way of life that included Jesus Christ, their own culture and agriculture. My impression of the Whitmans is that they saw their work as operating in a single direction. They were the givers and the aboriginal peoples were the receivers. I don't perceive much listening going on, only telling. Naturally, the Cayuse and Umatilla resisted ways contrary to their own way of life, especially so since they did not adapt to row crop cultivation well. It was challenging to learn about Jesus when row crops were seen as a path to Jesus. The Whitmans and their coworkers were carriers for a measles epidemic that wiped out half of the local tribe population. The tribes responded to these developments with violence, and the missionary endeavors in the area were ended for well over a generation.

I still have a lot to learn about the Whitman mission story. It may become a topic for deeper study in my future. On my recent family trip, my family and I visited the Whitman Mission National Historical Site (part of the National Park system). I hope to return when I have more research time and search some of the archives at nearby Whitman College. I learned much from this story and my own understanding of Christian ministry and mission. Some factors remain in my ongoing consideration:

1. The local religious landscape in the Pacific Northwest has always struggled to support Christian ministry and cultural endeavors related to Christian ministry for centuries. Though it is no longer at the bottom of the of the list of percentage of religious adherents (Maine is now at the bottom), it takes significantly more work for Christians to gain influence in the region than in other places where I have lived and worked.
2. Is there an appropriate balance between Christian ministry as proclamation and listening? In my early studies of the Whitman massacre, it appears that the actions of the Whitmans moved more toward proclamation than listening and understanding the Umatilla and Cayuse peoples. The Whitman story provides a cautionary tale for me on many levels. I believe in God's redemptive work through the Church, but am I the appropriate proclaimer? I find myself much more interested and driven to understand than to proclaim. Understanding is a relative term--it seems sometimes that the more I learn, the less I understand--but understanding is more about posture than accomplishment. Interim ministry for me has been a ministry of understanding congregations (again, understanding is relative), and using that understanding for the people of God in a particular place to follow their calling in God's preferred future for them.
3. Though it takes great courage and energy to make a proclamation (Marcus Whitman made several round trips from the mission to the East Coast to garner support for the mission in a time where such distance travel was tiring, dangerous and often deadly), sometimes I think it is much harder to listen, learn and understand--because the other cannot be controlled. The Whitmans did not have an opportunity to learn this lesson; they were killed before any change took place. This is part of the conflicting understanding about mission--I make quite a presumption when I think I know what is best for a group of people I serve, whereas we can take the opportunity to build relationship and name that God is already in that place, and together look at the Bible and look the culture and prayerfully see where God is together in hopes of imagining and living God's preferred future for that particular community.

I sometimes wonder whether these thoughts, experiences and learnings make me the right kind of pastor in this day and age, or whether I should find a different path to ministry. A colleague and friend once posed to me the key differences between proclamation and understanding and their relationship to vocation. I believe the distinction between proclamation and understanding is important, but the relationship to vocation is not so cut and dried. I may never feel comfortable in my vocation. I am provoked to proclamation, yet driven to understand. Through the Whitmans I read a cautionary tale, and I am alerted to the consequences on either end of the continuum of proclamation and understanding.

Faith-work connections need a more important room

While in seminary, anyone discussing the connection between faith and work usually referenced the role of works in Christian faith. Understanding the relationship to what we do in life and the grace of God is a tenet of great theological significance.

Unlike Martin Luther, this relationship between faith and works does not keep me awake at night. What keeps me awake at night I whether my work provides a space in their lives for people to connect with the grace of God. Congregational life relegates the presence of God in our lives to places that receive relatively little attention understood in amount of time spent. Congregational life and our relationship with God is like a house. Much to our detriment, congregational life looks like we place God in small spaces like closets or storage areas in a house--places where we spend few waking hours. When I reflect upon the energies of congregational life, we place emphasis on volunteer time, whether at church or in completing a service project. We place emphasis on families. We place emphasis on worship time. All of these aspects of life are important and valuable. However if we total the time spent on these activities as a percentage of our total time in a week, the percentage is low. Most of our waking hours are spent at work.What would our homes look like if we placed all of our energy on the closets?

At a recent stewardship conference I attended through Luther Seminary, Philip (Dubuque Seminary) and Janet Jamison (University of Dubuque) persuaded me to be more intentional about the connection between faith and work on many levels. Though I don't have the data in front of me (I was told it would be published soon) when polled, well over 90% of church attenders responded that their congregations did not help them make a connection between faith and work. We're not talking about the classic Reformation-era faith-works relationship, but a space where a computer programmer communicates the grace of God in their work. A space where a grocery clerk sees an opportunity through hospitality to share God's love. A space where a custodian provides a clean and safe place for others to use their God-given gifts in work.

God, have mercy on the church for thinking that everything we do is about making our congregations better places for our own sake and pride rather than equipping people to live a grace-filled life during every waking hour. I began learning this lesson of time stewardship as I saw people enthusiastically, yet humbly come toward the altar for a blessing during our Celebrating Faces service. Those working on our Celebrating Faces service, where we once a month offer a specific word of grace for particular lines of work (teachers, health care workers, first responders, for example). We originally designed the service as an outreach, a way to connect with people in the community. Toward the end of the service, people come forward for a blessing. How I begin the blessing involves asking each individual who comes forward to tell me in a sentence what they do for a living. From that sentence, I craft a blessing tailored to that person's work. I remember a junior high school teacher. Remembering the intense social and hormonal challenges of junior high, I spoke a blessing on someone who teaches and connects with the turbulent times of adolescence and that the teacher may have peace in the midst of frustration and a reminder that God is faithfully present with them in the classroom.

We fail to speak God's grace to many situations in the life of the church; yet the connection between faith and work is something we can do. For Lutheran Christians, the connection should be easier (Luther wrote on this topic on numerous occasions), but I suppose not, because we're not doing it. If we think we're doing it, we're not, because the faith work connection fails to register with people today. The house of our lives can be filled with God's grace, but we relegate it to place where we only spend a few hours on any given day. So much of life is spent at work, and without being intentional about the faith-work connection, we will be evicted from our houses of faith.

New Media Epiphanies and Strategy

Epiphanies come in many shapes and sizes, though these episodes of discovery come more frequently and rapidly.

In the past 6 months, even after coming from a huge newspaper household in my youth, I can no longer bring myself to buy a newspaper. My fingers avoid ink stains, I don't dispose of a pile of paper, and my access to archives is greater without attempting to save piles of papers and taking up storage space in my house. I read most of my news on my iPhone these days. Most of the time I even forget the wonderful mobility of a laptop.

I desire to learn about new (if not already mainstream) media without the burden of earning a new degree. I want to put some theological flesh on the meaning of communication using today's tools. I want to learn while having my insight respected and not be given too much jargon or techie lingo. I want to connect with God and others, and I want to expand my imagination in doing so.

Using Twitter over the past 8 months, I find the connections to good information and specialized discussions increase in probability. While intentionally seeking to learn and grow in the scope of connecting with God and others through new media, I found a local, Seattle Mariners-loving, Mainline-Oldline Protestant Christian who develops new media strategies with congregations (Will Boyd). We met in a Seattle neighborhood (Ballard) at fun little BBQ restaurant (Pete's Smokin' BBQ) with free wifi. The entire meeting was arranged on Twitter. We didn't share any contact information outside of Twitter (until today). We had a solid theological conversation that took me to different places of thinking, while receiving ideas for tools that can be used for more effective communication.

While reflecting on my experience on my ferry ride back to my office from Seattle, I thought about my history with networking. A connection like today's conversation 10 years ago may have taken months and thousands of dollars to develop. I used to attend conferences for networking. Not to say that conferences are a resource black hole, but my return on investment with new media is exponential. I don't have to wait for big conferences to make important connections, I choose the scope and frequency of that connection.

The entire experience today was physically framed by driving up to a big old steeple ELCA congregation--First Lutheran Church in Ballard. As I walked up to Smokin' Pete BBQ (across the street from the church) for a tweetup, I thought about old ways and new ways of connecting with God and one another. I saw children at the church daycare playing outside, realizing that sharing God's grace through serving the neighbor in a daycare still matters. This is still the declared end in mind: to connect with God and others. The means are changing, faster than sometimes I care to admit, yet I don't lament the changes like I thought I might. I'm glad God would still care to use me in an era of rapidly changing means to achieve the ends.

"Risky Business" + "Old School" = Transformation: Reminder Equation for Congregations

I receive inspiration from stories of changed lives through innovation.

Boarding schools in theory aren't innovative, but a public boarding charter school in Washington, D.C. (featured on "60 Minutes"), is innovative because it creates opportunities for change and success for youth at risk in the city. Children aren't required to attend the Seed School in SE Washington, they go by choice and application. Students are awarded admission via lottery.

Without realizing it until today, the common thread in my most recent posts is the importance of safety in order to thrive. For congregational meetings, a safe place through boundaries should be fostered in order that all parties have the opportunity to speak. For cities to thrive culturally and economically, citizens need to feel safe. For children to concentrate on their learn at school, they need to feel safe. The threat of violence, public ridicule, or humiliation can drive and group toward paralyzing anxiety. But no system of safety is impermeable. Safety is not the only issue, as healthy social situations balance both safety and risk. Two business people recognized the creative tension of working with safety and risk, and an innovative educational model birthed.

What I find compelling about the school is the testimonials and results of the students and the entrepreneurial acumen of the school's founders, gathering both public and private money to build the school. Kids and families opened the emotional vault for anything related to The Seed School. The Seed School also has a track record of success in test scores and college placement. Is the school perfect? No. But the school raised the bar for education, caused reflection on education practices, and changed the lives of dozens of inner-city children. What a wondrous blending of public and private funds and energy.

Sometimes I see that congregations lose sight of the fact that changed lives and transformation is at the root of Christian witness. Grace matters. Mercy matters. Forgiveness matters. So much energy is wasted on maintaining the status quo in congregations that it's easy to forget that transformation is the raison d'etre of the church. Thank you Seed School for reminding me about the goal of transformation and the thought and action processes behind creating a culture of transformation.

Finding My Place and Opportunity to Serve in "The Great Reset": Making Meaning through Work

During my service at First Lutheran Community Church, I spend 2-6 hours each work day. For some people distance commuting is a way of life. I usually enjoy time in the car--I love my time on the open road. Driving served as great down time for me in the days before children and seriously managing a household. Today, the commute is a burden. For the past two months I have wondered how to better invest that time than an entertaining podcast or music. I've reconsidered my listening time since that 2-6 hours ends up devouring time given to study.

The work of Richard Florida sat on my reading list for years. I bought a book that sat on my shelf (typical). I recently started reading Florida's blog and tweets on economic geography. As a passionate student of church and context, I find Florida's research and analysis useful and refreshing. Many of Florida's ideas and methods continue racing through my thoughts well after completing his book: "The Great Reset: How New Ways of Living and Working Drive Post-Crash Prosperity."

1. Florida sees current economic challenges as an opportunity, though not through mere naive positive thinking.
2. Florida doesn't (explicitly) espouse a particular current American political ideology. His ideas reflect his research analysis rather than a loyalty to a manifesto or prevalent ideology. He regularly critiques government practices that some political activists would cheer, yet sees a positive place for government action to encourage creative work and a healthy sense of prosperity that other political activists would cheer.
3. Florida recognizes the value of historical practices, yet he challenges practices regardless of their place in history.
4. Florida challenges the practices of commuting and home ownership as accepted means to prosperity. This is one of the most challenging ideas for me because of my thousands of miles of commuting over the last decade. This idea also challenges my desire to own another home, even after the first experience was full of great moments in my family history to go along with the stumbling blocks and pain of home ownership. In what he calls "The Great Reset," where a backlog of creativity and opportunity is becoming unleashed, people in bad mortgage situations will be unable to respond to opportunities because they are stuck in their "owned" homes.
5. In this post-industrial/knowledge based economy, Florida asserts that finding meaning in work is a key component for the economy to thrive. Though Florida addresses meaning and work more clearly and eloquently, I wrestled with this idea on my own for the past 7-8 months, an idea I believe identifies a field of Christian service (maybe even more so for Lutherans). Luther recorded many thoughts on vocation, though I have read that Luther's understanding of vocation is different from our understanding. My challenge will be to understand whether these understandings of vocation can be linked. Regardless of that personal study, I still believe people can find meaning in their work in the context of the grace of God through Jesus Christ. Grace given and received, Christians live out a response not to earn God's love, but to live in thankfulness in service to our neighbor. If we believe in the transforming power of God's grace, that grace should affect how we interact with everyone, from our families, friends, in everyday interaction with co-workers and the general public while doing our work. In the post-industrial/knowledge-based economy, the service-type job sector continues to grow. People who cut hair, or help you buy your groceries or sell you hardware when you need something on a Saturday afternoon are not going to be outsourced to India or China. Therefore making these into meaningful jobs challenges this era's job market. I believe Christians can serve this era well.

My fellow servants at First Lutheran Community Church and I continue to learn about the depth of importance of work and meaning. As FLCC invited people in particular kinds of work to come for worship, fellowship and blessing at three different services earlier this year--our leaders and volunteers learned about the need to connect meaning and work through prayer and blessing. We all agreed that the greatest impact of our service project was the blessing--the laying on of hands and speaking a particular word of thanksgiving and encouragement was positive and moving for many in this community. Florida's observations about meaning and work confirmed what our leaders saw in our ministry.

Many of my recent social interactions reference Florida's latest book. Though not specifically ecclesiological, Florida has presented a new field that can be reached. I believe that field can be harvested by Christians.

Congregational Bromides: "We need to have a leader/member/someone who represents the (fill in the blank) group."

Congregations regularly fill leadership positions to serve the church. Boards, councils, sessions, vestries, call/search committees frequently call upon a variety of leaders to serve. What are the criteria for selection into these leadership groups?

I receive puzzled looks when I ask this question. In most cases, people who serve congregational leadership groups are not serving tenured or lifetime appointment, as in a college or university, the House of Lords, or the Supreme Court. Therefore the congregation regularly discerns who will serve in leadership positions.  They end up falling in a desperate trap because they don't have enough people to fill positions, and they rush to hopefully find a diverse group of folks to serve in a leadership role.

I find congregations have set up some default criteria for setting up their leadership groups.

1. Represent different as many different ministry areas, demographic groups, theological perspectives, worship style perspectives as possible.
2. Enlist as many people to serve with the leadership group as people are willing.

That's it.

Over the past few years I learned that some congregations are basing leadership ranks based on agreed marks of discipleship. The most common I've seen in ELCA congregations include:

• Prayer
• Worship
• Bible Reading
• Service to God and To Others
• Giving - Time, Talent, and Treasure
• Encouraging Others to Grow

I appreciate (and tend to encourage) the expectations for leaders in this fashion, though the creation of expectations as the list above for leaders challenges entrenched leadership structures, and the defensiveness can be abnormally high. I observe that ELCA Lutherans tend to think that expectations are not congruent with grace. Serving in a leadership position is not a matter of salvation, it's a matter of call. Call takes discernment--and discernment is not a merely what feels right, polling the congregation, or sticking a wet finger in the air to feel which direction the wind blows. I had to meet expectations in order to be ordained. It's not a God-given right that anyone who might want to be an ordained pastor gets to be one because we wouldn't be practicing grace if the wider church did not allow that person to become a pastor. I'm not calling upon pastor-style rigor for all leaders in the church, but that congregations intentionally determine their criteria for leadership.

Back to the congregational bromide. I think representation of particular demographic groups and ministry areas for leadership is overrated. I did not say unnecessary, but that it tends to be the only stated (albeit loosely) criterion. Though this single standard could work (why not cast lots instead), I think the odds are low that a group based merely on representation will work. Without criteria and expectations for a leadership roster, it's more likely to have a group with members entrenched in their own perspective and "getting what's coming to them (or what they deserve)" rather than following through on the tasks of leadership. Representing what is important to you or your constituents as the only criterion for leadership moves toward divisiveness, cutoff and resentment over compromises.

Representation in congregation is important, but is overrated.

Confessions of a Recovering Visionaholic

My name is Joe. I love visionary thinking. I'm a recovering visionaholic.

Just because I love and admire visionary thinking does not make me a visionary. Occasionally I am moved to an innovative idea or thought. Often I am inspired to respond to a provocation of the Holy Spirit and imagine a project that brings connections to God and people. These ideas stretch me and the congregations I serve. I've never been a part of a congregation long enough to experience a vision producing benefits first hand. Sometimes I read or hear a story about a congregation I served make a great leap toward reaching a vision; I smile and give thanks that I helped build something visionary.

My working definition of vision for years: a Holy Spirit idea that stretches my capabilities and the congregation I serve. In the first congregation I served, Our Savior's Evangelical Lutheran Church--Hartland, WI, I was full of ideas and experiences from seminary. I worked toward a partnership vision for the congregation--I used the King James Version of Proverbs 29:18, "Where there is no vision, the people perish," as a guiding Bible verse for the congregation to imagine grand possibilities in serving God and neighbor. I think this understanding and usage of vision is good and faithful. I think a key part of congregational mission is reliance on God and corresponding grand thinking, followed with action and discernment related to vision. I made a mistake in using Proverbs 29:18--I ignored the context, ignored the Hebrew, ignored the other translations. I was too busy convincing the congregation about the goodness of visionary thinking (forgot some of those good principles of my seminary education) beyond having a nice, new building.

I delved into reading on congregational vision and mission. I attended conferences and workshops addressing vision and change. I wanted to develop a vision statement to accompany their mission statement. I remember workshops at Prince of Peace Lutheran Church in Burnsville, MN and their vision statement (which has evolved a little checking the above link "10,000 passionate Christians in every generation." POP showed me the only congregational vision that has inspired me in 16 years of seminary and ministry.  That's not to say that congregations fail in ministry, but the ministry gets cut short without a compelling vision. At a Prince of Peace workshop I learned that a vision is a compelling idea so big and grand that only God can help you get there. I believe congregations are inhibited by small thinking and fixed on what they can sensibly accomplish: budgets, keeping the lights on, having a pastor to serve as a chaplain for the members, occasionally serving food to the hungry, etc.

For over 9 years I served in transition congregations with varying thinking scopes, and varying degrees of ministry effectiveness--though none with a compelling vision that stretched the congregation to imagine what was possible with God. Though I witnessed good ministry over the years, every mission seemed sensible and well within the realm of the congregation's skills. I was sucked into small thinking to a degree in the past decade. Vision developed into a buzz word over the years, losing its meaning for congregations. In this trajectory, vision looks like white flour--something good milled into something filling, yet bland, with little nutritional value.

Sunday, April 25th at First Lutheran Community Church revealed their passion about visionary thinking. Pastor Allen Cudahy was a visionary leader at FLCC for 20 years--partnering with forward thinking leaders and turning around and growing a Mainline Protestant/Lutheran congregation in the Pacific Northwest. Visionary thinking is embedded in the congregational culture. The people of FLCC speak some of the language of vision, but they've equated it today with the dream of a community center in Port Orchard. I think a community center represents visionary thinking. It inspired passion yesterday in a public discussion about the dream's future. People don't want to lose that visionary thought--they've had a taste of visionary thinking and action, and they don't want to let it go. I do not blame them. The dream of the community center is no longer visionary, because the congregation has not taken discernible action on this project for a few years. A vision compels people to act beyond what they deem sensible.

In short, vision does not equal a community center (or fill in whatever project your congregation is in process). Vision is a word that is thrown around in hopeful congregations all over North America. I mistakenly attached myself to the feeling of vision rather than the guidance of God. It's time for me to stop being a visionaholic and connecting myself with more sound reflection, prayer and discernment about vision. Vision is more than a good feeling. The good feeling is a by product of God's gracious provision. More learning and some sermons on the topic are forthcoming.

Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name

John 20: 1-18

An old Christian tradition states that one Christian says to another Christian or group of Christians--

"Christ is risen!"

The response is "Christ is risen, indeed! Alleluia!"

To speak these words that Jesus is raised from the dead is an important proclamation for followers of Christ. It states that Jesus Christ conquered death. What human beings think is the end of life, God's raising Christ from among the dead means that trusting in the power of God in Christ and God's claim upon our lives means that death will not conquer us, either. The resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead after his unjust execution on a cross is about as central to the Christian faith as anything proclaimed by the Christian Church.

Christ is risen, indeed.

I've never appreciated the "Christ is risen" exchange on Easter Sunday and in the weeks following. I dread speaking them. I dread hearing them.

It's not that I do not believe in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, but it is the story following the resurrection that disturbs me, even keeps me awake at night.

The story told in the gospel according to John depicts Jesus' loved ones coming to visit his grave site, not unlike you and I might visit a grave site of a loved one who has died, especially the days soon after a funeral. No one who comes to Jesus' grave and finds it empty grasps the reality or the magnitude of the fact that Jesus has been raised from the dead. Jesus even told his followers that this would happen, but they still don't get it--and they even hung around Jesus. A lot.

The resurrection of Jesus from the dead is hard for the human mind to grasp. Even with the gift of faith that God gives, resurrection is still challenging to grasp. To state that Jesus is raised from the dead is not enough. A statement didn't even work for Jesus. Jesus said he was going to be raised from the dead, and yet when his followers saw the evidence, they still didn't get it.

What changed?

Think about the power of a name. The power of a name can alter our state of being. If our name is spoken with anger, disdain or hatred, it shoots to the core of our being and can drive anyone to despair. A name spoken with curiosity, interest, enthusiasm, adoration or love can help someone experience joy and help them move mountains. In my studies related to couple's counseling and marriage care that an exercise for relationship strengthening can focus on intentionally using your significant other's name as opposed to nicknames, pet names, or randomly shouting out orders, requests, or seeking information.

The utterance of a name in love is part of our greatest rites of passage. We speak each others names during a wedding, and attach those names to promises. We take great care to choose names for children and pets. At a baptism, we say the baptized person's name and say "you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever." That name is repeated at Confirmation. A name is spoken at graduations and award ceremonies--and loved ones and fans cheer with delight. The activity attached to speaking a name carries great power--and that power can be used for good or ill.

Recently the morning "Today Show" and news outlets around the country told a story about the abuse of names--a telephone scam where elderly people are called and their heart strings are tugged, uttering the name "Grandma" as a means get to money. Saying things like "Grandma, I'm in trouble. Can you wire me some money?" The power of a name is to be used with great care.

One of my favorite utterances of a name is from an old television show from the 80's and 90's (at least it's old to this child of the 70's): I think many of you will know that name once you see his image. Once the name was uttered, some sort of lovable wisdom was shared: "It's a dog eat dog world, and I'm wearing Milk Bone underwear."

The writers of the television situation comedy "Cheers" made a powerful link to one of the show's most beloved characters, Norm Peterson, and the song that introduced the show.

I think the Cheers theme "Where Everybody Knows Your Name" is an instructive song to our understanding of the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead and what it means after the actual event. For the event to actually happen is one thing. But the event of Jesus being raised from the dead only had meaning in the context of a relationship. When Mary went to Jesus' grave site and found it empty, she didn't know what to make of it. She thought Jesus' body was taken by grave robbers. Jesus approached Mary and spoke to her. Mary didn't recognize Jesus or his voice. But once Jesus called out Mary's name--she knew that Jesus was alive, and she called him by one of the ways she knew her relationship. She affectionately called him "teacher."

The resurrection only became real to Mary when her name was spoken by Jesus and it was contextualized by a relationship. When I hear or speak the words "Christ Is Risen," it rings a little hollow for me because I know that I can do a better job of helping build relationships in the Church. I know that we can do better together. I know that hundreds of thousands of people look at Christians and don't care to hear about who Jesus is or what he has done because we haven't put a friendship, relationship or hospitality behind the name we proclaim. We may know something of the power of Jesus' name, but we have lost the sense of power of all the names of people whom God created.

I know nothing of the faith background of Scott Ginsberg--but I know that he has recognized the power of knowing a name. Several years ago, Scott decided to start wearing a name tag, all day, every day. He wrote a book, established a www.hellomynameisscott.com, and speaks worldwide about how his life has changed and the insights he has gained from wearing a name tag--how he built relationships because he was willing to put his name out there. Scott recognized the power of a name and turned it into making a living. I hear all kinds of excuses for people in a church not wearing a name tag. The truth is, we don't know as many names as we think we do, and sometimes I will avoid people because I don't want to go through the embarrassment of not remembering someone's name (has that happened to anyone else?). Name tags give people the opportunity to avoid the shame of not knowing a name, and it creates a better path to build a relationship.

I will not make a statement that the Church needs to be more like a bar, or that everyone in a congregation has to be best friends, or that everyone has to wear a name tag, OR ELSE. What I am saying is that we must recognize and act upon the power of a name and contextualize that name with a relationship. The statement about the resurrection telling the joyous event of Jesus' resurrection from the dead that ends the finality of death only means something in the context of a relationship.

There is something similar to Norm Peterson walking into Cheers and the Church. Wherever you go to encounter God, Jesus calls out your name with the same love and enthusiasm.

Christ is risen, indeed. Alleluia!

The Life of the "First Advantage"

I knew a man at a congregation I served years ago (I’ll call him John). John is insightful, pragmatic and creative—a great leadership resource. Incredibly busy, John runs a public relations/advertising company. He is also interested in the life of his congregation. He removed himself from church leadership because he attended too many committee meetings that were long on talk, but short on action. John wanted his work and gifts to mean something in the life of a congregation and community. He found his time, energy and gift investment was better placed elsewhere. At first, I lamented John’s absence. However, other service opportunities offered a better return on investment. I couldn’t argue with his disengagement from congregational leadership.

My first encounter with First Lutheran Community Church and its organizational structure was intriguing to a geek like me. I like sociology and organizational development. I spent my first 11 years of ministry trying to make broken systems better, mostly because I enjoyed thinking about the structure itself. However, the return on time and energy invested was minimal.

My current commute tests my patience. Although I will make two round trips (some days 3) between Federal Way and Port Orchard (about 80 miles), I have new hope for ministry. A few years ago I completely lost my patience for ineffective church committee meetings. I see FLCC and its lack of standing committees as a breath of fresh air. My leadership to different groups of the church seems to matter at FLCC—and most ministries are able to thrive without my presence at meetings. I have good return on my time, energy and gift investment in FLCC--because I know that people’s lives are affected positively in the name of Christ.

The point is that the people of Port Orchard need to know the advantages of this community of faith. What are the advantages of being a part of FLCC? What is the First Advantage? Anyone can come to worship and learn about the presence of God in daily life through the Bible, music and prayer. Wisdom for living is found. Healing is possible for brokenness in relationships with God and others. A call is issued to serve our neighbors in need. FLCC is a place where anyone can become neighbors. There is an opportunity to live this life in Jesus Christ every day of the week. The congregation may not suit everyone’s preferences, but anyone can receive a good return on their investment. Not only does FLCC open its doors, but you are continually learning to proactively invite your neighbors outside of your doors. To what kind of community are you inviting potential neighbors? Thank you for sharing that First Advantage with me. I pray for your continuing work in engaging your neighbors-to-be.