When love is expounded upon in Matthew 22 and Leviticus 19, the expectation of love is not related to how I feel, but by who God is. Therefore love that is referenced here is not rooted in a particular emotion, but a by recognition of God's action. How that relates to our neighbor love is a reflection of God's action in the world. A principle part of God's creation is humankind created in God's image. That is the challenge of love, when I expect emotion, God expects that we act toward our neighbor with the understanding that the other person is created in God's image.
Showing posts with label preaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label preaching. Show all posts
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
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
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
Monday, August 29, 2011
"You know you've arrived when..."
Sermon based on Matthew 16: 13-20 for August 28, 2011
Measuring success is challenging for congregations. On the one hand, models of success in our lives sometimes run in opposition to what we see in the life of Jesus and his teaching. A follower of Jesus named Peter once looked like he had his act together in understanding Jesus, but finds out there's a lot more to learn. Peter finds out that his understanding of Jesus' identity didn't match with where Jesus was going with his life--maybe Peter hadn't "arrived" after all.
Measuring success is challenging for congregations. On the one hand, models of success in our lives sometimes run in opposition to what we see in the life of Jesus and his teaching. A follower of Jesus named Peter once looked like he had his act together in understanding Jesus, but finds out there's a lot more to learn. Peter finds out that his understanding of Jesus' identity didn't match with where Jesus was going with his life--maybe Peter hadn't "arrived" after all.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Baseball, Church, and Writing
Just because I haven't posted writing on the blog recently does not mean I haven't been writing. I've been writing a lot lately. An opportunity arose to audition for one of my favorite baseball blogs, thinking I could make the leap from mostly church stuff to baseball. Waiting patiently for future vocational turns is not my strong suit. The time may come to share some of my baseball writing on this blog, but I'm not sure about the direction this writing is taking. Your average pastor will never become a baseball blog, but I am curious about what I have learned in my processes in writing about baseball and church.
The writing process in baseball is surprisingly similar to writing about church--preaching, congregational development, and biblical scholarship. Over the past decade, baseball has gradually developed new methods of research to understand truths about baseball. For about 100 years, baseball used very specific methods for understanding the game that did not change much. As baseball revenues and salaries have reached new heights and computer/electronic analysis moved into the game some questioned the assumptions and validity of older methods. Those who held control over the older methods of baseball knowledge struggled and still struggle (to the point of hatred and vitriol) with the new methods.
For some, the new methods of baseball analysis come with great ease, especially those who work well with statistical analysis. Information about baseball is not dependent on newspaper beat writers with large travel budgets or national commentators, or even sports networks like ESPN. Anyone with internet access and a desire to execute extensive research can make compelling arguments about many facets of the game, and I find their arguments quite persuasive. The validity of any measurement, whether qualitative or quantitative should be a priority. Are we actually evaluating what we say we're evaluating?
Sound familiar?
The church, biblical scholarship and preaching have changed because of access to information. Some people whose livelihoods or power status were based on older knowledge methods have challenged newer methods of research and analysis. Seminaries have had to change their methods some (though not all too quickly) and ordination tracks and sacramental access has shifted (though not too quickly). The common thread in developing new hierarchies and authority matrices is that control over information is crumbling (or has crumbled). It affects both the baseball world and the world of the church. Luther and his followers, colleagues and adversaries saw it with the dawn of the printing press. The authority structures are crumbling again. Feel free to deny it, or even decry it--I'm not sure it will do you any good.
What I have learned is that for all the doctrinal purists in both baseball and the church, they are still about relationships. Though it will always help to keep certain skill sets up to date and develop new knowledge bases, the world needs people who can navigate these changing times by managing their own anxiety and stay connected to people of different viewpoints. I haven't even touched on politics--and I think this is a primary issue in the current American political climate.
The fun part for me is that the opportunity to write about these topics and stay connected with you does not flow through a publication like The Christian Century, a local or national newspaper, or even a book that I write. I can connect with you--now. I am gladdened by our shared creative energy. I think that is God at work in the Spirit.
The writing process in baseball is surprisingly similar to writing about church--preaching, congregational development, and biblical scholarship. Over the past decade, baseball has gradually developed new methods of research to understand truths about baseball. For about 100 years, baseball used very specific methods for understanding the game that did not change much. As baseball revenues and salaries have reached new heights and computer/electronic analysis moved into the game some questioned the assumptions and validity of older methods. Those who held control over the older methods of baseball knowledge struggled and still struggle (to the point of hatred and vitriol) with the new methods.
For some, the new methods of baseball analysis come with great ease, especially those who work well with statistical analysis. Information about baseball is not dependent on newspaper beat writers with large travel budgets or national commentators, or even sports networks like ESPN. Anyone with internet access and a desire to execute extensive research can make compelling arguments about many facets of the game, and I find their arguments quite persuasive. The validity of any measurement, whether qualitative or quantitative should be a priority. Are we actually evaluating what we say we're evaluating?
Sound familiar?
The church, biblical scholarship and preaching have changed because of access to information. Some people whose livelihoods or power status were based on older knowledge methods have challenged newer methods of research and analysis. Seminaries have had to change their methods some (though not all too quickly) and ordination tracks and sacramental access has shifted (though not too quickly). The common thread in developing new hierarchies and authority matrices is that control over information is crumbling (or has crumbled). It affects both the baseball world and the world of the church. Luther and his followers, colleagues and adversaries saw it with the dawn of the printing press. The authority structures are crumbling again. Feel free to deny it, or even decry it--I'm not sure it will do you any good.
What I have learned is that for all the doctrinal purists in both baseball and the church, they are still about relationships. Though it will always help to keep certain skill sets up to date and develop new knowledge bases, the world needs people who can navigate these changing times by managing their own anxiety and stay connected to people of different viewpoints. I haven't even touched on politics--and I think this is a primary issue in the current American political climate.
The fun part for me is that the opportunity to write about these topics and stay connected with you does not flow through a publication like The Christian Century, a local or national newspaper, or even a book that I write. I can connect with you--now. I am gladdened by our shared creative energy. I think that is God at work in the Spirit.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Another untimely review: Conviction
What am I willing to sacrifice in order to pursue a life passion? Does a life passion take on a different scope if that passion is a family member?
At one point in the film Conviction, Betty Anne Waters (Hilary Swank) has been advocating and fighting for her brother (Sam Rockwell), convicted of murder for nearly two decades. She sacrificed her marriage (it ended in divorce) and nearly gave up her relationships with her children in order to prove her brother was wrongly convicted. Waters graduated from law school and passed the bar in order to serve as her brother's council for his murder case. She went through well over a decade without a friend, except for a fellow law student (Minnie Driver) who doggedly befriended Waters and endured Waters' tireless work and persistence in obtaining anything that could help her brother. In a conversation with her two teenage sons, one of the sons states that Betty had given up her live to save Uncle Kenny. Waters paused, looked at her son incredulously, as if the concept of sacrifice never crossed her mind.
The title of the film is a perfect play on words and a deep reflection on the nature of passion. Surely, it is a good story about the pitfalls of any justice system, but for me this was a film about the relationship between conviction and passion. Waters was depicted as someone who did not see herself as passionate or one who sacrificed. The other question that came up in conversation about the story with my wife was whether Waters' relationship with her brother was unhealthy. This was a sibling pair who could be analyzed in psychological parlance as "fused," rooted in growing up together in an abusive household. I wonder if Waters (as she is depicted) is a Christ-like figure. Christians for centuries have written, taught and preached to fellow Christians and the world that we should reflect and embody Christ's "sacrifice" for humanity. I am not a Christian proponent of a sacrificial Christology. The sacrificial nomenclature is hard to escape in the Bible and Christian theology, and I though I don't wholeheartedly reject it, I don't embrace it.
Looking into the character of Waters and her (loving? obsessing?) pursuit of securing the freedom of her brother, I can't help but think of Jesus. In my limited knowledge of the Bible and theology, I can't recall anyone who bothered to ask Jesus whether he believed that his death was a sacrifice to him (and I would be glad to learn from my readers where I could find further reading on this topic) or whether theology has bothered to ask the question about the nature of sacrifice as it relates to love. In addition, how is a sacrifice beneficial (or even loving) to a relationship if the person who made the sacrifice for the "sake of the relationship" has to constantly remind the other person that they made the sacrifice in the first place?
Over the years in my life of Christian faith, I've been asked to accept the idea of Christ's sacrifice at face value, that I had better appreciate it and think about it to the point of guilt and shame. Only then will I have faith. Until my work with my theological education teachers (mostly Pat Keifert and Walter Sundberg at Luther Seminary) I had not considered the multiple dimensions of sacrifice in the Christian faith and theological discourse. Conviction serves as a reminder of the multiple dimensions of understanding sacrifices and relationships. There's plenty of guilt and shame to go around in the world, and I am thankful for the love and grace I have received in the body of Christ. Many have lovingly given in more ways than I can count so that I may have a better life (did they always see it as a sacrifice?). Watching Conviction offered me some new questions and insights to the interplay of love, justice, sacrifice, guilt and relationships. It wasn't a sacrifice for me to give up four dollars and two hours to watch the film.
At one point in the film Conviction, Betty Anne Waters (Hilary Swank) has been advocating and fighting for her brother (Sam Rockwell), convicted of murder for nearly two decades. She sacrificed her marriage (it ended in divorce) and nearly gave up her relationships with her children in order to prove her brother was wrongly convicted. Waters graduated from law school and passed the bar in order to serve as her brother's council for his murder case. She went through well over a decade without a friend, except for a fellow law student (Minnie Driver) who doggedly befriended Waters and endured Waters' tireless work and persistence in obtaining anything that could help her brother. In a conversation with her two teenage sons, one of the sons states that Betty had given up her live to save Uncle Kenny. Waters paused, looked at her son incredulously, as if the concept of sacrifice never crossed her mind.
The title of the film is a perfect play on words and a deep reflection on the nature of passion. Surely, it is a good story about the pitfalls of any justice system, but for me this was a film about the relationship between conviction and passion. Waters was depicted as someone who did not see herself as passionate or one who sacrificed. The other question that came up in conversation about the story with my wife was whether Waters' relationship with her brother was unhealthy. This was a sibling pair who could be analyzed in psychological parlance as "fused," rooted in growing up together in an abusive household. I wonder if Waters (as she is depicted) is a Christ-like figure. Christians for centuries have written, taught and preached to fellow Christians and the world that we should reflect and embody Christ's "sacrifice" for humanity. I am not a Christian proponent of a sacrificial Christology. The sacrificial nomenclature is hard to escape in the Bible and Christian theology, and I though I don't wholeheartedly reject it, I don't embrace it.
Looking into the character of Waters and her (loving? obsessing?) pursuit of securing the freedom of her brother, I can't help but think of Jesus. In my limited knowledge of the Bible and theology, I can't recall anyone who bothered to ask Jesus whether he believed that his death was a sacrifice to him (and I would be glad to learn from my readers where I could find further reading on this topic) or whether theology has bothered to ask the question about the nature of sacrifice as it relates to love. In addition, how is a sacrifice beneficial (or even loving) to a relationship if the person who made the sacrifice for the "sake of the relationship" has to constantly remind the other person that they made the sacrifice in the first place?
Over the years in my life of Christian faith, I've been asked to accept the idea of Christ's sacrifice at face value, that I had better appreciate it and think about it to the point of guilt and shame. Only then will I have faith. Until my work with my theological education teachers (mostly Pat Keifert and Walter Sundberg at Luther Seminary) I had not considered the multiple dimensions of sacrifice in the Christian faith and theological discourse. Conviction serves as a reminder of the multiple dimensions of understanding sacrifices and relationships. There's plenty of guilt and shame to go around in the world, and I am thankful for the love and grace I have received in the body of Christ. Many have lovingly given in more ways than I can count so that I may have a better life (did they always see it as a sacrifice?). Watching Conviction offered me some new questions and insights to the interplay of love, justice, sacrifice, guilt and relationships. It wasn't a sacrifice for me to give up four dollars and two hours to watch the film.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Music as pastoral care and building the community of faith
The battle over worship in this congregation started in 1967 when _________________ played a guitar in worship. The war has gone on ever since.
That was a statement of an elder member of a congregation I served as an interim when I asked about the stories related to conflict over worship. One might call it the Thirty Years' War. The "Worship Wars" don't have the acrimony they once did even five years ago. I never understood the approach of the Worship Wars in "Mainline" Protestantism. Arguing over preferences produces no clarity, no mission, no deeper connection with the Divine.
I am not a worship scholar. I wouldn't even call myself gifted in worship methodology or theology. But I ponder the effects of music on my soul and my longing for God, desiring healing and wholeness, and where I see Christ. I have to provide the musical connection with God for myself, because the church for 30 years has been more interested in arguing about style preferences than offering to build my relationship with God and others in their spiritual growth. Recently I've been thinking less about my musical preferences and HOW I am connected to God and others by a particular song.
1. The role of testimony. Preachers and other deliverers of the Gospel can appropriately share their personal stories about the activity of God in their lives. I find meaning in that connection--why can't it be done with music? Case in point--a pastoral care song for me is from Melody Gardot's Who Will Comfort Me. The song is good in and of itself, but it means even more in light of Melody's own path of healing. Gardot faced brutal injuries and the healing setbacks and triumphs in her life come out in this particular song. Testimony brings out a tradition of the Psalms. Sometimes lament, sometimes victory. Sometimes confidence in God's presence, sometimes longing questions and frustration. Who will comfort me?
2. Songs of confession and songs of intercession. Years ago I had numerous opportunities to preach for the St. Dysmas prison congregation in the South Dakota State Penitentiary. I had some great conversations with the worship band. Though they loved playing worship music and praise songs, the jam sessions revealed more about their walk with God. What saddened me was that they thought their jams had no place in the worship service. One band member and I had a discussion around Molly Hatchet's "Flirtin' With Disaster." The song provided an entry point for this young man's story, his crimes and sins, his incarceration, and his relationship with God. I always thought it was a good song, though not a favorite. The song is now a favorite because it is an opportunity for me to pray for this young man--for healing, for forgiveness, for a newness of life each day, and a new start when he gets out of prison.
Unfortunately, my work with the Worship Wars of the past 30 or so years has been more about addressing conflict and congregational dynamics. In this season of my life, I hope for articulation of music as pastoral care and faith community building.
Excuse me--while I commute home tonight and listen to tunes from my iPhone, I will be in a place of worship. Through Christ, creation (music) and relationship--God heals.
That was a statement of an elder member of a congregation I served as an interim when I asked about the stories related to conflict over worship. One might call it the Thirty Years' War. The "Worship Wars" don't have the acrimony they once did even five years ago. I never understood the approach of the Worship Wars in "Mainline" Protestantism. Arguing over preferences produces no clarity, no mission, no deeper connection with the Divine.
I am not a worship scholar. I wouldn't even call myself gifted in worship methodology or theology. But I ponder the effects of music on my soul and my longing for God, desiring healing and wholeness, and where I see Christ. I have to provide the musical connection with God for myself, because the church for 30 years has been more interested in arguing about style preferences than offering to build my relationship with God and others in their spiritual growth. Recently I've been thinking less about my musical preferences and HOW I am connected to God and others by a particular song.
1. The role of testimony. Preachers and other deliverers of the Gospel can appropriately share their personal stories about the activity of God in their lives. I find meaning in that connection--why can't it be done with music? Case in point--a pastoral care song for me is from Melody Gardot's Who Will Comfort Me. The song is good in and of itself, but it means even more in light of Melody's own path of healing. Gardot faced brutal injuries and the healing setbacks and triumphs in her life come out in this particular song. Testimony brings out a tradition of the Psalms. Sometimes lament, sometimes victory. Sometimes confidence in God's presence, sometimes longing questions and frustration. Who will comfort me?
2. Songs of confession and songs of intercession. Years ago I had numerous opportunities to preach for the St. Dysmas prison congregation in the South Dakota State Penitentiary. I had some great conversations with the worship band. Though they loved playing worship music and praise songs, the jam sessions revealed more about their walk with God. What saddened me was that they thought their jams had no place in the worship service. One band member and I had a discussion around Molly Hatchet's "Flirtin' With Disaster." The song provided an entry point for this young man's story, his crimes and sins, his incarceration, and his relationship with God. I always thought it was a good song, though not a favorite. The song is now a favorite because it is an opportunity for me to pray for this young man--for healing, for forgiveness, for a newness of life each day, and a new start when he gets out of prison.
Unfortunately, my work with the Worship Wars of the past 30 or so years has been more about addressing conflict and congregational dynamics. In this season of my life, I hope for articulation of music as pastoral care and faith community building.
Excuse me--while I commute home tonight and listen to tunes from my iPhone, I will be in a place of worship. Through Christ, creation (music) and relationship--God heals.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Salary, pension, insurance, oh my! The next chapter awaits...
Once in awhile I share a conversation with a pastor 30-50 years older than me (though it's been a few years). With a little digging I can find a story about a struggle to provide the basics of life for their families. Salaries were small. Health insurance didn't exist. A pension? Unthinkable. Inevitably, I'll find a story about how a pastor was compensated with food. A pig here, several chickens there, 6-months supply of venison there. I'm glad I do not have to live like that.
I consider life's needs as I approach my next ministry chapter. I will no longer be compensated sometime in April, and I'll have to find a way to contribute to the household without piling thousands of dollars in the family coffers (that go out as quickly as they come in). I may have a few supply preaching opportunities. I'll clip more coupons and more closely watch the grocery budget. Exercises in leisure time will be dances in frugality. We've done this before and we can do it again. This chapter of ministry does not begin with worry.
I'm thinking about the two and three chapters ahead. I think back to earlier chapters, recalling my colleagues and friends retreat from challenging their congregations for fear of losing their health insurance, not receive a much-needed raise, or be forced into retirement sooner than they imagined. Maybe leadership decisions are not directly related to home balance sheets on a day to day basis, but the decisions where a pastor might overlook a ministry issue for self-preservation accumulate. Congregations also collect these behaviors in the name of self-preservation--not wanting to offend Jane and John Pewsitter for fear of losing their offering.
I never wish for a day I will be paid in pigs. I'm thankful for the church contributing so that I can make a good living. But I don't want to compromise a calling or a decision because my daughter needs a treatment or my wife needs glasses. Congregations do not want to limit their leadership in order to meet a budget, but the make their own compromises. With self-preservation in the backdrop, I wonder what will be the title of my next chapter in ministry. I ponder finding a "non-ministry" job that can help my family thrive while leading a ministry during the after work hours.
The church will never be void of politics, power struggles or leadership failures if pastors find their incomes in places besides the congregations they serve. As the dreams of God cascade through my mind about the justice, kindness and humble connections with God and neighbor, I wonder if I should put more energy into fulfilling my call rather than keeping my call. Congregations and pastors are spiraling downward in a whirlpool of self-preservation. Ministry should not suffer because of that spiral.
This is one reason that I am thankful for the struggling economy; would I even be thinking about self-preservation issues without it? Would I be thinking about boundless mercy of God or the benefits of comfortable living?
I consider life's needs as I approach my next ministry chapter. I will no longer be compensated sometime in April, and I'll have to find a way to contribute to the household without piling thousands of dollars in the family coffers (that go out as quickly as they come in). I may have a few supply preaching opportunities. I'll clip more coupons and more closely watch the grocery budget. Exercises in leisure time will be dances in frugality. We've done this before and we can do it again. This chapter of ministry does not begin with worry.
I'm thinking about the two and three chapters ahead. I think back to earlier chapters, recalling my colleagues and friends retreat from challenging their congregations for fear of losing their health insurance, not receive a much-needed raise, or be forced into retirement sooner than they imagined. Maybe leadership decisions are not directly related to home balance sheets on a day to day basis, but the decisions where a pastor might overlook a ministry issue for self-preservation accumulate. Congregations also collect these behaviors in the name of self-preservation--not wanting to offend Jane and John Pewsitter for fear of losing their offering.
I never wish for a day I will be paid in pigs. I'm thankful for the church contributing so that I can make a good living. But I don't want to compromise a calling or a decision because my daughter needs a treatment or my wife needs glasses. Congregations do not want to limit their leadership in order to meet a budget, but the make their own compromises. With self-preservation in the backdrop, I wonder what will be the title of my next chapter in ministry. I ponder finding a "non-ministry" job that can help my family thrive while leading a ministry during the after work hours.
The church will never be void of politics, power struggles or leadership failures if pastors find their incomes in places besides the congregations they serve. As the dreams of God cascade through my mind about the justice, kindness and humble connections with God and neighbor, I wonder if I should put more energy into fulfilling my call rather than keeping my call. Congregations and pastors are spiraling downward in a whirlpool of self-preservation. Ministry should not suffer because of that spiral.
This is one reason that I am thankful for the struggling economy; would I even be thinking about self-preservation issues without it? Would I be thinking about boundless mercy of God or the benefits of comfortable living?
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Finding a place on the road to calling between sentimentality and utilitarianism
As an interim pastor, my job is to manage expectations. I find congregations either dripping with sentimentality about their past, a congregation entangled in their own details, or at least an interesting combination of the two. My present interim congregation, First Lutheran Community Church in Port Orchard, Washington, is voting to call their next pastor this Sunday, February 13. Dating and engagement images (hello, Valentine's Day) are inevitable. So much excitement! So much curiosity! So much imagination!
I wonder what treasures of God's word can be uncovered to lead the congregation through the end of their valley of the shadow of death to the glorious epiphany that will be their call--a chorus of angels with a prelude aria leading to a crescendo where the entirety of heavenly hosts joins the angel chorus and loudly proclaims, "This pastor! This pastor! This pastor!"
Take a vomit break, if you choose.
There's a God-element to a calling, as there is a human element. These elements are intertwined in a chromosome-like double helix. If all callings were perfect, congregations would not falter. A calling is an agreement to a ministry and leadership relationship. A means to which we hold ourselves accountable to the work that God gives us. A commitment to help each other grow as children of God. Pastors and congregations are not saviors to one another. Sometimes a calling leads to conditions that are harder, not easier.
Take Numbers 11 for example (my sermon text for Sunday). Moses complains to God, because he feels the isolation of ministry and leadership. God provides a calling to elders, and ministry conditions not only not improve, they deteriorate. That doesn't mean that ministry partnerships and shared leadership are failures, but it does cause us to check our expectations and drive us toward seeking God in the midst of our challenges, and be formed by the wisdom of God rather than cling to our unreasonable demands, selfish preferences, and skewed expectations. Numbers 11 is a text about the importance of calling and the provision of God, but it is also a check on our expectations and a reminder about our dependence on God, and not the call itself. In Numbers 11, the sentimental notion of call is out the window, and even the utilitarian one. The call is linked to God, and it doesn't mean ministry will get easier. But it does give us something with which to work, and God is present.
I wonder what treasures of God's word can be uncovered to lead the congregation through the end of their valley of the shadow of death to the glorious epiphany that will be their call--a chorus of angels with a prelude aria leading to a crescendo where the entirety of heavenly hosts joins the angel chorus and loudly proclaims, "This pastor! This pastor! This pastor!"
Take a vomit break, if you choose.
There's a God-element to a calling, as there is a human element. These elements are intertwined in a chromosome-like double helix. If all callings were perfect, congregations would not falter. A calling is an agreement to a ministry and leadership relationship. A means to which we hold ourselves accountable to the work that God gives us. A commitment to help each other grow as children of God. Pastors and congregations are not saviors to one another. Sometimes a calling leads to conditions that are harder, not easier.
Take Numbers 11 for example (my sermon text for Sunday). Moses complains to God, because he feels the isolation of ministry and leadership. God provides a calling to elders, and ministry conditions not only not improve, they deteriorate. That doesn't mean that ministry partnerships and shared leadership are failures, but it does cause us to check our expectations and drive us toward seeking God in the midst of our challenges, and be formed by the wisdom of God rather than cling to our unreasonable demands, selfish preferences, and skewed expectations. Numbers 11 is a text about the importance of calling and the provision of God, but it is also a check on our expectations and a reminder about our dependence on God, and not the call itself. In Numbers 11, the sentimental notion of call is out the window, and even the utilitarian one. The call is linked to God, and it doesn't mean ministry will get easier. But it does give us something with which to work, and God is present.
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.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Sermon: Why are THESE PEOPLE my neighbors?
Joshua 9
Luke 10: 25-37
People who attend a worship service have come a long way in their understanding of who their neighbors are. For decades and sometimes centuries, what it meant to be part of a congregation in North America was to be part of an ethnic enclave of people (some of these enclaves still exist, and new enclaves are forming). These enclaves may have had some interaction with other enclaves, but it was easy to have social and cultural norms reinforced, especially during church. If you wonder how this ethnic cultural reinforcement works think of the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. The Finns had their own church, the Germans had their own church, the English had their own church, the African Americans had their own church, the Scots had their own church, the Norwegians had their own church, the Danes had their own church. Some people in this congregation may have a memory of a marriage or a relationship that was considered dangerous because a Norwegian married a Swede, a Roman Catholic married a Lutheran, or if someone of Northern European descent married someone of Asian descent. Sometimes boundaries aren't negotiated on ethnicity, but political affiliation or theological perspective.
The challenges continue, though the scope of that challenge has changed. The understanding of how we evolve in our relationships with neighbors is often conditioned by recent history and the stress we experience in the world which we live. When we experience stress in relationships, it is tempting to gain immediate relief in those relationships rather than attempt to negotiate their complexity. One of my favorite past times in the midst of stress in relating to my neighbors is to engage in some righteous indignation about the superiority of my perspective. In my Big Fat Greek Wedding, when a Greek father is considering the stress that his Greek daughter is marrying a non Greek man, Costa Portakales directs some disgust to his future son in law in Greek, "my people were developing philosophy while your people were swinging from trees." Sometimes people will join me in my anger, and for a few minutes we experience relief. Other times I pause and reflect on my stress, and realize that I am a fool. Sometimes I don't want to consider that God looks out for my neighbor.
In the midst of the stress of negotiating relationships that we do not understand, we go to our principles of faithful living. Christians go to church, gather in Christian community, and study the Bible as a means of negotiating the world in which we live. The Bible often provides us with a foundational understanding of what it means to relate to God and one another. Some biblical writings are easier to negotiate with others. "You shall not kill" is little easier for most people to reconcile than "you shall love your neighbor as yourself." The question posed by the "lawyer" in Jesus' parable of the Good Samaritan reflects how challenging neighbor relationships can be, because we struggle to relate to the identity of our neighbor. Are our neighbors merely our kin? Does our roster of neighbors include only the people who live in close proximity? How is proximity defined? By city, county or national boundary, maybe college football fan base? Going to University of Washington's Husky Stadium for a football game yesterday it was interesting to see who is the neighbor of a Husky fan. Cougars are not neighbors (even though Cougars and Huskies are neighbors in Washington). Ducks are not neighbors (even though their state is adjacent, and Ducks live among Huskies. (Any mixed marriages of colleges out there)? But Michigan Wolverines? They aren't in as close proximity as Ducks or Cougars, but they were named as neighbors. Why? Because they beat the Notre Dame Fighting Irish! Is our neighbor the person who shares the same ethnic heritage? Is our neighbor the person who shares the same political or theological perspective? In North America, we are able to deal with our understanding of neighbor a little differently based on the sheer fact that we have the ability to move if we don't like how the relationships are going with our neighbors. We move to the suburbs, then we move back to the cities, and so on. Understanding of what it means to be a neighbor is constantly shifting.
The people of the Ancient Near East, in the times of the Bible, did not have the means of mobility that we do. In some ways, we are both mobile societies, but one thing we have in America is space, and lots of it. But people in Bible times have the same struggles with defining the meaning of neighbor as we do, with a lot less space with which to work. If you travel to Israel and Palestine one can see the diversity of people living in a very tight space. When we go to the Bible for guidance in the stressful world of negotiating neighbor relationships, the Bible isn't particularly unified about who our neighbor really is, and I think neighbor confusion is reflected in our public discourse. Sometimes that confusion comes to a violent head, as we have seen recently in the fervor related to Pastor Terry Jones and his congregation in Florida creating an event to burn the Quran, the Muslim holy book. This seemingly insignificant local event became known worldwide, because it served as a lightning rod for the stress related to how Americans negotiate a mosque being built near Ground Zero in New York City. The vitriol exchanged in public discourse is stressful in itself. It's tempting to blame "the media" for the fever pitch coverage of the topic, but often times "the media" reflects the state of the public. This is a relationship of neighbors, and it's not simple, especially when lives are on the line.
How do Christians negotiate a complex web of relationships? How does God?
I offer you the Bible story in Joshua 9 as a means to think about God's action in the midst of complex neighbor relationships. The story tells readers about the Gibeonites, a group who lived in close proximity to Joshua's people in the land of Canaan. They were a group set up to be exterminated according to God's call to Joshua. His conquest in Jericho and Ai were already documented and a reputation for their strength was well known throughout the region. The Gibeonites were aware that Joshua's people were to show hospitality to those who lived far away from Canaan, so they made it look like they came from far away in order that they had a better chance to establish a covenant between the two peoples. The Gibeonites used deception, and the story documents that Israel did not consult God in their dealings with the Gibeonites. A covenant was established between the peoples. When Israel discovered they had been deceived, the leaders were furious they had been tricked, and wanted to destroy them. But Joshua believed they should hold to the oath to God about peace with the Gibeonites.
The circumstances of neighbor relationships change in Joshua 9. An underdog people is spared in the midst of Israel taking possession of the land of Canaan. Why does God not intervene in this story if all the peoples of Canaan are supposed to be destroyed? Is God not only looking out for Israel, but looking out for people who are not part of Israel? Joshua 9 reveals that neighbor relationships are not as cut and dried as we think, and actually in flux. It also reveals that God is looking out for our neighbors, even the neighbors who are different than us. Circumstances matter. Lives hang in the balance. Circumstances matter in Joshua 9, and they matter in public discourse around the mosque near Ground Zero. Listen Up TV www.listenuptv.com has been reporting on the complex web of relationships around Ground Zero--people who have lost loved ones on 9/11/01, as well as Muslim and Christian leaders close to the situation. Their video clip is worth your time (with more forthcoming). Though Jesus gives his followers an ethic of being a neighbor is rooted in mercy,
today's examples provide us insight to the complexity of what it means to be a neighbor, to show mercy in the midst of anxiety, fear, vitriol and demeaning public discourse is an extraordinary act of faith. We cannot do it alone.
If we think of Jesus' last days on Earth, Jesus acted with mercy in the midst of fear, anxiety, vitriol. The parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10 is a microcosm and foreshadowing of Jesus' death and resurrection. Jesus had the power of God to crush his enemies and punish those who betrayed him, yet he extended mercy to all of them. Though retribution for the injustice showed to Jesus was justified, Jesus' resurrection overcomes the fear, anxiety, vitriol and demeaning act of crucifixion and brings love and forgiveness to the world.
Ground Zero is hundreds of miles away from much of the US and can seem distant, yet the discussion still matters. What can Christians do in response to the mercy of God in Christ? Faith in Christ is one thing. Keeping public discourse calm in the midst of anxiety is another. Our everyday actions may seem small, but they matter. St. Luke's Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) showed some mercy to their Jewish and Muslim neighbors by posting a message of peace to their neighbors of different traditions on their church sign (quite a contrast to Burn A Koran Day in Florida). How is God calling you to share mercy in the world? How is God calling communities of faith? The life, death and resurrection of Christ reveals to us each day that the power of mercy can transform the world.
Luke 10: 25-37
People who attend a worship service have come a long way in their understanding of who their neighbors are. For decades and sometimes centuries, what it meant to be part of a congregation in North America was to be part of an ethnic enclave of people (some of these enclaves still exist, and new enclaves are forming). These enclaves may have had some interaction with other enclaves, but it was easy to have social and cultural norms reinforced, especially during church. If you wonder how this ethnic cultural reinforcement works think of the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. The Finns had their own church, the Germans had their own church, the English had their own church, the African Americans had their own church, the Scots had their own church, the Norwegians had their own church, the Danes had their own church. Some people in this congregation may have a memory of a marriage or a relationship that was considered dangerous because a Norwegian married a Swede, a Roman Catholic married a Lutheran, or if someone of Northern European descent married someone of Asian descent. Sometimes boundaries aren't negotiated on ethnicity, but political affiliation or theological perspective.
The challenges continue, though the scope of that challenge has changed. The understanding of how we evolve in our relationships with neighbors is often conditioned by recent history and the stress we experience in the world which we live. When we experience stress in relationships, it is tempting to gain immediate relief in those relationships rather than attempt to negotiate their complexity. One of my favorite past times in the midst of stress in relating to my neighbors is to engage in some righteous indignation about the superiority of my perspective. In my Big Fat Greek Wedding, when a Greek father is considering the stress that his Greek daughter is marrying a non Greek man, Costa Portakales directs some disgust to his future son in law in Greek, "my people were developing philosophy while your people were swinging from trees." Sometimes people will join me in my anger, and for a few minutes we experience relief. Other times I pause and reflect on my stress, and realize that I am a fool. Sometimes I don't want to consider that God looks out for my neighbor.
In the midst of the stress of negotiating relationships that we do not understand, we go to our principles of faithful living. Christians go to church, gather in Christian community, and study the Bible as a means of negotiating the world in which we live. The Bible often provides us with a foundational understanding of what it means to relate to God and one another. Some biblical writings are easier to negotiate with others. "You shall not kill" is little easier for most people to reconcile than "you shall love your neighbor as yourself." The question posed by the "lawyer" in Jesus' parable of the Good Samaritan reflects how challenging neighbor relationships can be, because we struggle to relate to the identity of our neighbor. Are our neighbors merely our kin? Does our roster of neighbors include only the people who live in close proximity? How is proximity defined? By city, county or national boundary, maybe college football fan base? Going to University of Washington's Husky Stadium for a football game yesterday it was interesting to see who is the neighbor of a Husky fan. Cougars are not neighbors (even though Cougars and Huskies are neighbors in Washington). Ducks are not neighbors (even though their state is adjacent, and Ducks live among Huskies. (Any mixed marriages of colleges out there)? But Michigan Wolverines? They aren't in as close proximity as Ducks or Cougars, but they were named as neighbors. Why? Because they beat the Notre Dame Fighting Irish! Is our neighbor the person who shares the same ethnic heritage? Is our neighbor the person who shares the same political or theological perspective? In North America, we are able to deal with our understanding of neighbor a little differently based on the sheer fact that we have the ability to move if we don't like how the relationships are going with our neighbors. We move to the suburbs, then we move back to the cities, and so on. Understanding of what it means to be a neighbor is constantly shifting.
The people of the Ancient Near East, in the times of the Bible, did not have the means of mobility that we do. In some ways, we are both mobile societies, but one thing we have in America is space, and lots of it. But people in Bible times have the same struggles with defining the meaning of neighbor as we do, with a lot less space with which to work. If you travel to Israel and Palestine one can see the diversity of people living in a very tight space. When we go to the Bible for guidance in the stressful world of negotiating neighbor relationships, the Bible isn't particularly unified about who our neighbor really is, and I think neighbor confusion is reflected in our public discourse. Sometimes that confusion comes to a violent head, as we have seen recently in the fervor related to Pastor Terry Jones and his congregation in Florida creating an event to burn the Quran, the Muslim holy book. This seemingly insignificant local event became known worldwide, because it served as a lightning rod for the stress related to how Americans negotiate a mosque being built near Ground Zero in New York City. The vitriol exchanged in public discourse is stressful in itself. It's tempting to blame "the media" for the fever pitch coverage of the topic, but often times "the media" reflects the state of the public. This is a relationship of neighbors, and it's not simple, especially when lives are on the line.
How do Christians negotiate a complex web of relationships? How does God?
I offer you the Bible story in Joshua 9 as a means to think about God's action in the midst of complex neighbor relationships. The story tells readers about the Gibeonites, a group who lived in close proximity to Joshua's people in the land of Canaan. They were a group set up to be exterminated according to God's call to Joshua. His conquest in Jericho and Ai were already documented and a reputation for their strength was well known throughout the region. The Gibeonites were aware that Joshua's people were to show hospitality to those who lived far away from Canaan, so they made it look like they came from far away in order that they had a better chance to establish a covenant between the two peoples. The Gibeonites used deception, and the story documents that Israel did not consult God in their dealings with the Gibeonites. A covenant was established between the peoples. When Israel discovered they had been deceived, the leaders were furious they had been tricked, and wanted to destroy them. But Joshua believed they should hold to the oath to God about peace with the Gibeonites.
The circumstances of neighbor relationships change in Joshua 9. An underdog people is spared in the midst of Israel taking possession of the land of Canaan. Why does God not intervene in this story if all the peoples of Canaan are supposed to be destroyed? Is God not only looking out for Israel, but looking out for people who are not part of Israel? Joshua 9 reveals that neighbor relationships are not as cut and dried as we think, and actually in flux. It also reveals that God is looking out for our neighbors, even the neighbors who are different than us. Circumstances matter. Lives hang in the balance. Circumstances matter in Joshua 9, and they matter in public discourse around the mosque near Ground Zero. Listen Up TV www.listenuptv.com has been reporting on the complex web of relationships around Ground Zero--people who have lost loved ones on 9/11/01, as well as Muslim and Christian leaders close to the situation. Their video clip is worth your time (with more forthcoming). Though Jesus gives his followers an ethic of being a neighbor is rooted in mercy,
today's examples provide us insight to the complexity of what it means to be a neighbor, to show mercy in the midst of anxiety, fear, vitriol and demeaning public discourse is an extraordinary act of faith. We cannot do it alone.
If we think of Jesus' last days on Earth, Jesus acted with mercy in the midst of fear, anxiety, vitriol. The parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10 is a microcosm and foreshadowing of Jesus' death and resurrection. Jesus had the power of God to crush his enemies and punish those who betrayed him, yet he extended mercy to all of them. Though retribution for the injustice showed to Jesus was justified, Jesus' resurrection overcomes the fear, anxiety, vitriol and demeaning act of crucifixion and brings love and forgiveness to the world.
Ground Zero is hundreds of miles away from much of the US and can seem distant, yet the discussion still matters. What can Christians do in response to the mercy of God in Christ? Faith in Christ is one thing. Keeping public discourse calm in the midst of anxiety is another. Our everyday actions may seem small, but they matter. St. Luke's Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) showed some mercy to their Jewish and Muslim neighbors by posting a message of peace to their neighbors of different traditions on their church sign (quite a contrast to Burn A Koran Day in Florida). How is God calling you to share mercy in the world? How is God calling communities of faith? The life, death and resurrection of Christ reveals to us each day that the power of mercy can transform the world.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Movie Reflection: Get Low
As a called and ordained minister of the Church of Christ, and by his authority, I therefore declare to you the entire forgiveness of all of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the +Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
For 10 years of my young life, The Brief Order of Confession and Forgiveness, page 77 (coincidental to Mt 18:21-22?) in the The Lutheran Book of Worship (aka The Green Hymnal or the LBW) was my regular contact with the concept of forgiveness. I knew the page well, considering how the page curled from regular use, my ink-pen stained finger prints dotted the page, and the growing fuzzy edges prevented paper cuts. The LBW provided tactile reminders of sins committed and assurance of God's love in Christ, like a nun kneels and rubs her fingers along beads of a rosary. The "Brief Order of Confession and Forgiveness" was usually the first act of public worship each Sunday morning. Alongside the sermon, the confession had the most impact on me in early Christian life. This practice suited me not because it's fun, but because I am a naturally reflective person. Where have I been? Where am I going? What is my relationship with God? I could ponder those questions for years, but in the span of a few minutes, my reflections and redemption took shape. Even though I have felt the impact of sin and the liberation of redemption, the power of confession and forgiveness can still be elusive.
Imagine reflecting upon haunting sins and the elusiveness of forgiveness for a span of 40-plus years. Though I could only imagine that kind of torment, the storytelling of the film Get Low took me inside one man's understanding of love, sin, forgiveness, penance and redemption--and how his thoughts and actions influenced others' views and actions. The film is a 1930's period piece from the Bible Belt with an interesting connection to my own faith tradition in the Evangelical Lutheran Church In America. The film made me realize the gift of confession and forgiveness in the life of the church and my own faith, but it also made me realize how the church's rituals and teaching can be deficient in people's real lives. The confession and forgiveness practice can be programmed and sometimes rote, and life in between the rituals and proclamations is much messier than people (clergy included) care to often times understand.
Though forgiveness is the driving theme, the story telling is well crafted and the character development, cinematography, and top notch Bluegrass music (Jerry Douglass and Alison Krauss, to name a few) maximize the theme's impact. Because the film is based on a true story, some details could not be fictionally created (you can't make this stuff up!). After 40-plus years living the life of a hermit, Felix Bush (Robert Duvall) comes to town wanting to throw a funeral party, his own, before he dies. The meaning of this funeral party is revealed through his interactions with a local funeral director Frank Quinn (Bill Murray), his assistant (Lucas Black), two preachers, and an old friend (Sissy Spacek), and other town folk. For Frank Quinn, the funeral is unorthodox, but an opportunity to revive his sagging funeral business. For his assistant, his sense of right and wrong is constantly challenged.
A few sub themes worth noting in "Get Low" include the understanding of vocation in the world and how it is shared. Another sub-theme deals with how little people really know about one another--even in a small town. Another involves reflections upon integrity in the midst of personal identity and promises kept. It's one thing to teach, preach or discuss themes of sin, confession, forgiveness, redemption, vocation, relationships, promises, integrity and peace. Video is a special medium--and film story telling is a unique opportunity for impact, with the cinematography, music, and acting interpretation. Not only is the story and it's themes powerful because of the film making quality, but the humor is prevalent and disarming, but not distracting or trite. I can only tell you so much. Go see the film. Take adults. Take teenagers. Take someone you love. Talk about the film with one another. Journal about the film. Blog about the film. Tweet about the film.
For readers in the Puget Sound area, my wife and I viewed the film at Grand Cinema in Tacoma. This was our first trip to the Grand, and it represents all that is good about a trip to the movies--a non-profit cinema with lower prices and smaller concessions, staffed by friendly volunteers in a well-cared for setting both inside and out. We will go back because of the mission and the experience at the Grand.
For 10 years of my young life, The Brief Order of Confession and Forgiveness, page 77 (coincidental to Mt 18:21-22?) in the The Lutheran Book of Worship (aka The Green Hymnal or the LBW) was my regular contact with the concept of forgiveness. I knew the page well, considering how the page curled from regular use, my ink-pen stained finger prints dotted the page, and the growing fuzzy edges prevented paper cuts. The LBW provided tactile reminders of sins committed and assurance of God's love in Christ, like a nun kneels and rubs her fingers along beads of a rosary. The "Brief Order of Confession and Forgiveness" was usually the first act of public worship each Sunday morning. Alongside the sermon, the confession had the most impact on me in early Christian life. This practice suited me not because it's fun, but because I am a naturally reflective person. Where have I been? Where am I going? What is my relationship with God? I could ponder those questions for years, but in the span of a few minutes, my reflections and redemption took shape. Even though I have felt the impact of sin and the liberation of redemption, the power of confession and forgiveness can still be elusive.
Imagine reflecting upon haunting sins and the elusiveness of forgiveness for a span of 40-plus years. Though I could only imagine that kind of torment, the storytelling of the film Get Low took me inside one man's understanding of love, sin, forgiveness, penance and redemption--and how his thoughts and actions influenced others' views and actions. The film is a 1930's period piece from the Bible Belt with an interesting connection to my own faith tradition in the Evangelical Lutheran Church In America. The film made me realize the gift of confession and forgiveness in the life of the church and my own faith, but it also made me realize how the church's rituals and teaching can be deficient in people's real lives. The confession and forgiveness practice can be programmed and sometimes rote, and life in between the rituals and proclamations is much messier than people (clergy included) care to often times understand.
Though forgiveness is the driving theme, the story telling is well crafted and the character development, cinematography, and top notch Bluegrass music (Jerry Douglass and Alison Krauss, to name a few) maximize the theme's impact. Because the film is based on a true story, some details could not be fictionally created (you can't make this stuff up!). After 40-plus years living the life of a hermit, Felix Bush (Robert Duvall) comes to town wanting to throw a funeral party, his own, before he dies. The meaning of this funeral party is revealed through his interactions with a local funeral director Frank Quinn (Bill Murray), his assistant (Lucas Black), two preachers, and an old friend (Sissy Spacek), and other town folk. For Frank Quinn, the funeral is unorthodox, but an opportunity to revive his sagging funeral business. For his assistant, his sense of right and wrong is constantly challenged.
A few sub themes worth noting in "Get Low" include the understanding of vocation in the world and how it is shared. Another sub-theme deals with how little people really know about one another--even in a small town. Another involves reflections upon integrity in the midst of personal identity and promises kept. It's one thing to teach, preach or discuss themes of sin, confession, forgiveness, redemption, vocation, relationships, promises, integrity and peace. Video is a special medium--and film story telling is a unique opportunity for impact, with the cinematography, music, and acting interpretation. Not only is the story and it's themes powerful because of the film making quality, but the humor is prevalent and disarming, but not distracting or trite. I can only tell you so much. Go see the film. Take adults. Take teenagers. Take someone you love. Talk about the film with one another. Journal about the film. Blog about the film. Tweet about the film.
For readers in the Puget Sound area, my wife and I viewed the film at Grand Cinema in Tacoma. This was our first trip to the Grand, and it represents all that is good about a trip to the movies--a non-profit cinema with lower prices and smaller concessions, staffed by friendly volunteers in a well-cared for setting both inside and out. We will go back because of the mission and the experience at the Grand.
Friday, July 30, 2010
The Cautionary Tale of the Whitman Mission
While I lived in South Dakota, I read about anything I could about the Pacific Northwest. I missed the connections to the familiar, comforting, yet mystifying land. I missed the mist on my skin that dampened me, yet didn't get me wet. I missed the salty air that reminded me of the bountiful sea and all its creatures, both familiar and alien. I missed the evergreens that served as green sentries that guided my paths. Though I could only visit my beloved Washington about once or twice per year, through the research and story telling of others, my own stories, memories and observations were fertilized for a time when I would not be part of the Pacific Northwest diaspora, but a participant observer replanted in my land of origin.
Years passed before I made a connection between God and the land. I knew that God created the heavens and the Earth, but I was directed in my thoughts toward an understanding that God cared more about humans than the land itself. As I studied the Old Testament in seminary, I realized the land is a much more powerful character and player in biblical story and that place matters throughout scripture--though the land and place are not widely researched in theological circles, I have come to appreciate the distinctive nature of place sociologically and theologically. John Inge (a bishop in the Church of England) and Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann address theological questions of place and land.
While reading a Pacific Northwest history by Carlos Schwantes, I encountered a new story to me, the story of a massacre at the Whitman mission in southeast Washington state, near Walla Walla. On November 29, 1847, 13 people were killed at the mission site by peoples of the Cayuse and Umatilla tribes. Numerous interpretations of the events surrounding the massacre exist, but the story represents many tensions for me as a local theologian, pastor, student, and native of the Pacific Northwest. The Whitmans came to the region prepared to deliver their way of life to the Cayuse and Umatilla peoples--a way of life that included Jesus Christ, their own culture and agriculture. My impression of the Whitmans is that they saw their work as operating in a single direction. They were the givers and the aboriginal peoples were the receivers. I don't perceive much listening going on, only telling. Naturally, the Cayuse and Umatilla resisted ways contrary to their own way of life, especially so since they did not adapt to row crop cultivation well. It was challenging to learn about Jesus when row crops were seen as a path to Jesus. The Whitmans and their coworkers were carriers for a measles epidemic that wiped out half of the local tribe population. The tribes responded to these developments with violence, and the missionary endeavors in the area were ended for well over a generation.
I still have a lot to learn about the Whitman mission story. It may become a topic for deeper study in my future. On my recent family trip, my family and I visited the Whitman Mission National Historical Site (part of the National Park system). I hope to return when I have more research time and search some of the archives at nearby Whitman College. I learned much from this story and my own understanding of Christian ministry and mission. Some factors remain in my ongoing consideration:
1. The local religious landscape in the Pacific Northwest has always struggled to support Christian ministry and cultural endeavors related to Christian ministry for centuries. Though it is no longer at the bottom of the of the list of percentage of religious adherents (Maine is now at the bottom), it takes significantly more work for Christians to gain influence in the region than in other places where I have lived and worked.
2. Is there an appropriate balance between Christian ministry as proclamation and listening? In my early studies of the Whitman massacre, it appears that the actions of the Whitmans moved more toward proclamation than listening and understanding the Umatilla and Cayuse peoples. The Whitman story provides a cautionary tale for me on many levels. I believe in God's redemptive work through the Church, but am I the appropriate proclaimer? I find myself much more interested and driven to understand than to proclaim. Understanding is a relative term--it seems sometimes that the more I learn, the less I understand--but understanding is more about posture than accomplishment. Interim ministry for me has been a ministry of understanding congregations (again, understanding is relative), and using that understanding for the people of God in a particular place to follow their calling in God's preferred future for them.
3. Though it takes great courage and energy to make a proclamation (Marcus Whitman made several round trips from the mission to the East Coast to garner support for the mission in a time where such distance travel was tiring, dangerous and often deadly), sometimes I think it is much harder to listen, learn and understand--because the other cannot be controlled. The Whitmans did not have an opportunity to learn this lesson; they were killed before any change took place. This is part of the conflicting understanding about mission--I make quite a presumption when I think I know what is best for a group of people I serve, whereas we can take the opportunity to build relationship and name that God is already in that place, and together look at the Bible and look the culture and prayerfully see where God is together in hopes of imagining and living God's preferred future for that particular community.
I sometimes wonder whether these thoughts, experiences and learnings make me the right kind of pastor in this day and age, or whether I should find a different path to ministry. A colleague and friend once posed to me the key differences between proclamation and understanding and their relationship to vocation. I believe the distinction between proclamation and understanding is important, but the relationship to vocation is not so cut and dried. I may never feel comfortable in my vocation. I am provoked to proclamation, yet driven to understand. Through the Whitmans I read a cautionary tale, and I am alerted to the consequences on either end of the continuum of proclamation and understanding.
Years passed before I made a connection between God and the land. I knew that God created the heavens and the Earth, but I was directed in my thoughts toward an understanding that God cared more about humans than the land itself. As I studied the Old Testament in seminary, I realized the land is a much more powerful character and player in biblical story and that place matters throughout scripture--though the land and place are not widely researched in theological circles, I have come to appreciate the distinctive nature of place sociologically and theologically. John Inge (a bishop in the Church of England) and Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann address theological questions of place and land.
While reading a Pacific Northwest history by Carlos Schwantes, I encountered a new story to me, the story of a massacre at the Whitman mission in southeast Washington state, near Walla Walla. On November 29, 1847, 13 people were killed at the mission site by peoples of the Cayuse and Umatilla tribes. Numerous interpretations of the events surrounding the massacre exist, but the story represents many tensions for me as a local theologian, pastor, student, and native of the Pacific Northwest. The Whitmans came to the region prepared to deliver their way of life to the Cayuse and Umatilla peoples--a way of life that included Jesus Christ, their own culture and agriculture. My impression of the Whitmans is that they saw their work as operating in a single direction. They were the givers and the aboriginal peoples were the receivers. I don't perceive much listening going on, only telling. Naturally, the Cayuse and Umatilla resisted ways contrary to their own way of life, especially so since they did not adapt to row crop cultivation well. It was challenging to learn about Jesus when row crops were seen as a path to Jesus. The Whitmans and their coworkers were carriers for a measles epidemic that wiped out half of the local tribe population. The tribes responded to these developments with violence, and the missionary endeavors in the area were ended for well over a generation.
I still have a lot to learn about the Whitman mission story. It may become a topic for deeper study in my future. On my recent family trip, my family and I visited the Whitman Mission National Historical Site (part of the National Park system). I hope to return when I have more research time and search some of the archives at nearby Whitman College. I learned much from this story and my own understanding of Christian ministry and mission. Some factors remain in my ongoing consideration:
1. The local religious landscape in the Pacific Northwest has always struggled to support Christian ministry and cultural endeavors related to Christian ministry for centuries. Though it is no longer at the bottom of the of the list of percentage of religious adherents (Maine is now at the bottom), it takes significantly more work for Christians to gain influence in the region than in other places where I have lived and worked.
2. Is there an appropriate balance between Christian ministry as proclamation and listening? In my early studies of the Whitman massacre, it appears that the actions of the Whitmans moved more toward proclamation than listening and understanding the Umatilla and Cayuse peoples. The Whitman story provides a cautionary tale for me on many levels. I believe in God's redemptive work through the Church, but am I the appropriate proclaimer? I find myself much more interested and driven to understand than to proclaim. Understanding is a relative term--it seems sometimes that the more I learn, the less I understand--but understanding is more about posture than accomplishment. Interim ministry for me has been a ministry of understanding congregations (again, understanding is relative), and using that understanding for the people of God in a particular place to follow their calling in God's preferred future for them.
3. Though it takes great courage and energy to make a proclamation (Marcus Whitman made several round trips from the mission to the East Coast to garner support for the mission in a time where such distance travel was tiring, dangerous and often deadly), sometimes I think it is much harder to listen, learn and understand--because the other cannot be controlled. The Whitmans did not have an opportunity to learn this lesson; they were killed before any change took place. This is part of the conflicting understanding about mission--I make quite a presumption when I think I know what is best for a group of people I serve, whereas we can take the opportunity to build relationship and name that God is already in that place, and together look at the Bible and look the culture and prayerfully see where God is together in hopes of imagining and living God's preferred future for that particular community.
I sometimes wonder whether these thoughts, experiences and learnings make me the right kind of pastor in this day and age, or whether I should find a different path to ministry. A colleague and friend once posed to me the key differences between proclamation and understanding and their relationship to vocation. I believe the distinction between proclamation and understanding is important, but the relationship to vocation is not so cut and dried. I may never feel comfortable in my vocation. I am provoked to proclamation, yet driven to understand. Through the Whitmans I read a cautionary tale, and I am alerted to the consequences on either end of the continuum of proclamation and understanding.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
The Voices of Books
I received a gift of three books; I wondered if their destiny involved the madness of gagging their voice.
I enjoy books, I cherish books, I treasure books. Yet, my books mock me. Each book echoes a voice representing an opportunity never fulfilled, a knowledge never realized. I spent my first twenty years of adulthood collecting ideas to feed my life and propel my work, my recent two years peddling bindings to clear my mind and ease my burden. I scan the rows of my books regularly hoping to stop the voices of the books from calling out my name to engage their ideas, plots and calls to action. I am more weary from their calls than when my own children kept me up all hours of the night. At least my babies' voices represented something new. Some of my books have chided me since my teenage years.
Some of the voices attached to books involve professors who deemed their texts essential, reminding me of an enervated faith because I failed to heed their value as a student, or ignored their wisdom as a pastor. Some of the voices link me to colleague testimonials, which assured me of peace, efficiency, or enlightenment. These voices can't believe I ignored a call to transform my entire life, detailed on the pages of their texts.
Other books represent the voices of old and true friends. It matters not the frequency I call their name. They always respond with welcome and a gentle reminder of a conversation we shared years ago. These books encourage me through their recollection of my gifts and how I nourished the world with my utterances, The old friends have their own friends who I still long to know. I gaze at their title, glance at their contents and know that we will meet and talk like we have known each other for years, yet still have something to learn.
Today I spoke my peace to another array of voices selling me the wares of their publications. I don't have to listen to you anymore. I'm taking you to Goodwill where someone else can hear your voice. Don't call me. I'll call you. Maybe we can meet at the public, university or seminary library in seven years.
I enjoy books, I cherish books, I treasure books. Yet, my books mock me. Each book echoes a voice representing an opportunity never fulfilled, a knowledge never realized. I spent my first twenty years of adulthood collecting ideas to feed my life and propel my work, my recent two years peddling bindings to clear my mind and ease my burden. I scan the rows of my books regularly hoping to stop the voices of the books from calling out my name to engage their ideas, plots and calls to action. I am more weary from their calls than when my own children kept me up all hours of the night. At least my babies' voices represented something new. Some of my books have chided me since my teenage years.
Some of the voices attached to books involve professors who deemed their texts essential, reminding me of an enervated faith because I failed to heed their value as a student, or ignored their wisdom as a pastor. Some of the voices link me to colleague testimonials, which assured me of peace, efficiency, or enlightenment. These voices can't believe I ignored a call to transform my entire life, detailed on the pages of their texts.
Other books represent the voices of old and true friends. It matters not the frequency I call their name. They always respond with welcome and a gentle reminder of a conversation we shared years ago. These books encourage me through their recollection of my gifts and how I nourished the world with my utterances, The old friends have their own friends who I still long to know. I gaze at their title, glance at their contents and know that we will meet and talk like we have known each other for years, yet still have something to learn.
Today I spoke my peace to another array of voices selling me the wares of their publications. I don't have to listen to you anymore. I'm taking you to Goodwill where someone else can hear your voice. Don't call me. I'll call you. Maybe we can meet at the public, university or seminary library in seven years.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Ten Commandments Mnemonic Used During Kid Sermon
Last Sunday, I had the highest adult participation during a kid sermon in my experience. People commenting to me wished they had a good memory device for the Ten Commandments back in Confirmation--and I gave them such a device. Their enthusiasm simultaneously reflected jubilation, relief and angst.
I can't take credit for the creation of the study help, only the delivery. I received the device in 1999 from my colleague in South Dakota, Nate Hanson, who served (still serving?) Moe Parish near Hudson, SD. I've used the device ever since. Maybe its origins are deeper, but I have no knowledge of its use outside of South Dakota. Since sharing the memory device, I've received several requests for a typed copy. A You Tube video seems most appropriate, but until I put that together, a blog post will have to suffice.
A Ten Commandments Mnemonic:
1. Hold up one finger. Point to your eye. "First Commandment: I am the Lord your God. You shall have no other gods."
2. Hold up two fingers. Reach the two fingers to touch the VEINS on your wrist. "Second Commandment: you shall not take the Lord's name in vain."
3. Hold up three fingers. Emphasize the HOLE made when holding up three fingers. Look through the hole. "Third Commandment: remember the Sabbath day. Keep it Hole-y."
4. Hold up four fingers. Hold the four fingers in preparation to salute. "Fourth Commandment: honor your father and mother." Salute.
5. Hold up five fingers. Point the thumb downward as to indicate a medieval death sentence. "You shall not kill."
6. Hold up six fingers (five fingers on one hand and the thumb on the other). Take the single thumb and stab yourself in the heart to depict the pain of adultery. "Sixth Commandment: you shall not commit adultery."
7. Hold up seven fingers (five fingers on one hand and the thumb and index finger on the other, as if pointing a gun and committing a robbery). "Seventh Commandment: you shall not steal."
8. Hold up eight fingers (four fingers on each hand, thumbs folded in). Make a downward scratching motion in the air in front of you. "Eighth Commandment: you shall not BEAR false witness against your neighbor."
9. Hold up nine fingers. Then hold out the nine fingers in front of you, palms up. Show the ring finger, a remembrance of marriage. "Ninth Commandment: you shall not covet your neighbor's wife."
10. Hold up ten fingers. Next, put the tips of fingers up to form a triangle above your head--to look like you are putting a roof over your head. "Tenth Commandment: you shall not cover your neighbor's HOUSE." Lay out one hand to one side and say, "man servant." Lay the other hand out to the other side and say, "maid servant." Take your two index fingers and put them on the side of your head to look like horns and say, "cattle." Lay both palms out and say, "or ANYTHING else that is your neighbor's."
With this mnemonic device, you have Ten Commandments spelled out. Obviously the commandments are not explained, but the device can be used as a base for teaching. In my experience, the commandment itself is memorized after only a few times through--and subsequent quick reviews help. The device works at Confirmation retreats or lessons, serves a quick review for adults, youth group, and keeps kids moving and thinking during a kid sermon or preschool chapel time. If you try it, let me know how it works for you. I can also take questions and would love to help any way I can.
I can't take credit for the creation of the study help, only the delivery. I received the device in 1999 from my colleague in South Dakota, Nate Hanson, who served (still serving?) Moe Parish near Hudson, SD. I've used the device ever since. Maybe its origins are deeper, but I have no knowledge of its use outside of South Dakota. Since sharing the memory device, I've received several requests for a typed copy. A You Tube video seems most appropriate, but until I put that together, a blog post will have to suffice.
A Ten Commandments Mnemonic:
1. Hold up one finger. Point to your eye. "First Commandment: I am the Lord your God. You shall have no other gods."
2. Hold up two fingers. Reach the two fingers to touch the VEINS on your wrist. "Second Commandment: you shall not take the Lord's name in vain."
3. Hold up three fingers. Emphasize the HOLE made when holding up three fingers. Look through the hole. "Third Commandment: remember the Sabbath day. Keep it Hole-y."
4. Hold up four fingers. Hold the four fingers in preparation to salute. "Fourth Commandment: honor your father and mother." Salute.
5. Hold up five fingers. Point the thumb downward as to indicate a medieval death sentence. "You shall not kill."
6. Hold up six fingers (five fingers on one hand and the thumb on the other). Take the single thumb and stab yourself in the heart to depict the pain of adultery. "Sixth Commandment: you shall not commit adultery."
7. Hold up seven fingers (five fingers on one hand and the thumb and index finger on the other, as if pointing a gun and committing a robbery). "Seventh Commandment: you shall not steal."
8. Hold up eight fingers (four fingers on each hand, thumbs folded in). Make a downward scratching motion in the air in front of you. "Eighth Commandment: you shall not BEAR false witness against your neighbor."
9. Hold up nine fingers. Then hold out the nine fingers in front of you, palms up. Show the ring finger, a remembrance of marriage. "Ninth Commandment: you shall not covet your neighbor's wife."
10. Hold up ten fingers. Next, put the tips of fingers up to form a triangle above your head--to look like you are putting a roof over your head. "Tenth Commandment: you shall not cover your neighbor's HOUSE." Lay out one hand to one side and say, "man servant." Lay the other hand out to the other side and say, "maid servant." Take your two index fingers and put them on the side of your head to look like horns and say, "cattle." Lay both palms out and say, "or ANYTHING else that is your neighbor's."
With this mnemonic device, you have Ten Commandments spelled out. Obviously the commandments are not explained, but the device can be used as a base for teaching. In my experience, the commandment itself is memorized after only a few times through--and subsequent quick reviews help. The device works at Confirmation retreats or lessons, serves a quick review for adults, youth group, and keeps kids moving and thinking during a kid sermon or preschool chapel time. If you try it, let me know how it works for you. I can also take questions and would love to help any way I can.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Where will the Church go from here?
I tend to see the Church and any congregation I serve at a crossroads. Maybe that is my tendency after 9 years of interim ministry and 10 congregations asking deep questions about their ministries. These congregations experienced the loss of a pastor, and often other traumatic changes ranging from pastoral sexual misconduct, to the death of a pastor, to violent conflict. The questions I ask of crossroads congregations include:
1. Why has God called this congregation to this particular place at this particular time?
2. Where will this congregation go from here?
Acts and the Pauline writings of the New Testament depict a Church and communities in specific locales addressing questions similar to the aforementioned questions. Communities of the New Testament are living among questions regarding their existence in Christ, and how they live out these foundational truths in practice.
First Lutheran Community Church served as a visionary congregation with a visionary pastor for 20 years. The vision was once a distant idea, but now the vision is mostly part of the current congregational culture. As FLCC prepares to call a new pastor, the time comes again for visionary thinking for ministry. Where will First Lutheran Community Church go from here? I believe the Church at large asks some of the same questions that FLCC asks itself. During the next sermon series during May and June (maybe longer), we will take a micro (FLCC) and macro (the ELCA, the mainline protestant churches of the Pacific Northwest, the Church in North America, etc.) views of particular episodes in the life of a new Christian Church depicted in Acts and the early writings of Paul.
Where will the Church go from here?
This Sunday's Bible text comes from Acts 1: 12-26, and the sermon title is "Loved, Valued and Replaceable."
1. Why has God called this congregation to this particular place at this particular time?
2. Where will this congregation go from here?
Acts and the Pauline writings of the New Testament depict a Church and communities in specific locales addressing questions similar to the aforementioned questions. Communities of the New Testament are living among questions regarding their existence in Christ, and how they live out these foundational truths in practice.
First Lutheran Community Church served as a visionary congregation with a visionary pastor for 20 years. The vision was once a distant idea, but now the vision is mostly part of the current congregational culture. As FLCC prepares to call a new pastor, the time comes again for visionary thinking for ministry. Where will First Lutheran Community Church go from here? I believe the Church at large asks some of the same questions that FLCC asks itself. During the next sermon series during May and June (maybe longer), we will take a micro (FLCC) and macro (the ELCA, the mainline protestant churches of the Pacific Northwest, the Church in North America, etc.) views of particular episodes in the life of a new Christian Church depicted in Acts and the early writings of Paul.
Where will the Church go from here?
This Sunday's Bible text comes from Acts 1: 12-26, and the sermon title is "Loved, Valued and Replaceable."
Saturday, April 3, 2010
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!
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!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Bishop coming for a visit: remembering connections
I do not have a deep ministry pedigree. Sometimes when I attend Lutheran events, I see pastors who are from families of long lines of pastors. That pastor could be 3rd, 4th or 5th generation clergy. The pastors that they know have similar backgrounds--and they are connected through historic Christian institutions--colleges, seminaries, congregations, synods can sometimes see long lines of relatives and friends. This is pedigree. It seems to be destiny as much as call that ministry is continued and celebrated.
I do not have this ministry pedigree. I know it doesn't matter to God that I am not from a long line of pastors. I am confident in my calling, even though I'm not necessarily sure where God wants me to be or what God wants me to do. I generally trust that I am doing what I am supposed to be doing during any period of time, and that God will provoke my own spirit when the time comes to search. Not having a ministry pedigree, however, makes me wonder about my place sometimes. How does God work in the midst of bureaucracy and pedigree? I do not know, only that I trust that God can work in any situation.
Next Sunday, Bishop Rob Hofstad from the Southwestern Washington Synod will come and preach at First Lutheran Community Church. Bishop Hofstad is one of the few people in ministry where I can make the statement "we go way back." Pedigree allows this kind of statement on a regular basis. Bishop Hofstad was my pastor during the four years I lived in Olympia, Washington (at Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd), before I went off to college in the Midwest. We've kept some communication over the years as I moved toward and established my work in ordained ministry in the ELCA all over the Midwest. Bishop Hofstad is a gentle, balanced and wise soul. He is joyful, but not gregarious. He holds a deep faith and holds the faith of others in high esteem and care. I invited him to come preach at FLCC for a couple of reasons--one is selfish, the other is idealistic and helpful. The selfish reason is that after 20 years in the Midwest, I have returned to my land of origin. Bishop Hofstad shared the Gospel in a way that had an impact on me and in some way helped prepared me for what I am doing now, and he has offered encouragement on the way. To share worship with him in a congregation I serve feels like a milestone, or even coming full circle to a degree. It will be my extra pleasure to be in worship next Sunday.
The idealistic and helpful reason for Bishop Hofstad to join us is that it is deeply important that First Lutheran Community Church remember its connections with our Lutheran Christian sisters and brothers across the Southwestern Washington Synod and the rest of the ELCA and world. I am reminded of the importance of recognizing our connections as Bishop Hofstad is returning to Washington after nearly three weeks in Europe on an ecumenical delegation, meeting with various world Christian leaders, including Pope Benedict in Vatican City. Bishop Hofstad is not any more important than any one else in our portion of the Body of Christ, he only serves a particular calling. To me, Bishop Hofstad serves as a reminder of the meaning of our sisters and brothers in Christ--that we are called to encourage one another, offer our ideas and resources to one another, and build one another up. Bishop Hofstad doesn't have the all the answers to make those connections, yet he serves as a reminder of our particular callings from God in the world and that we are in this service to God and neighbor together.
I do not have this ministry pedigree. I know it doesn't matter to God that I am not from a long line of pastors. I am confident in my calling, even though I'm not necessarily sure where God wants me to be or what God wants me to do. I generally trust that I am doing what I am supposed to be doing during any period of time, and that God will provoke my own spirit when the time comes to search. Not having a ministry pedigree, however, makes me wonder about my place sometimes. How does God work in the midst of bureaucracy and pedigree? I do not know, only that I trust that God can work in any situation.
Next Sunday, Bishop Rob Hofstad from the Southwestern Washington Synod will come and preach at First Lutheran Community Church. Bishop Hofstad is one of the few people in ministry where I can make the statement "we go way back." Pedigree allows this kind of statement on a regular basis. Bishop Hofstad was my pastor during the four years I lived in Olympia, Washington (at Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd), before I went off to college in the Midwest. We've kept some communication over the years as I moved toward and established my work in ordained ministry in the ELCA all over the Midwest. Bishop Hofstad is a gentle, balanced and wise soul. He is joyful, but not gregarious. He holds a deep faith and holds the faith of others in high esteem and care. I invited him to come preach at FLCC for a couple of reasons--one is selfish, the other is idealistic and helpful. The selfish reason is that after 20 years in the Midwest, I have returned to my land of origin. Bishop Hofstad shared the Gospel in a way that had an impact on me and in some way helped prepared me for what I am doing now, and he has offered encouragement on the way. To share worship with him in a congregation I serve feels like a milestone, or even coming full circle to a degree. It will be my extra pleasure to be in worship next Sunday.
The idealistic and helpful reason for Bishop Hofstad to join us is that it is deeply important that First Lutheran Community Church remember its connections with our Lutheran Christian sisters and brothers across the Southwestern Washington Synod and the rest of the ELCA and world. I am reminded of the importance of recognizing our connections as Bishop Hofstad is returning to Washington after nearly three weeks in Europe on an ecumenical delegation, meeting with various world Christian leaders, including Pope Benedict in Vatican City. Bishop Hofstad is not any more important than any one else in our portion of the Body of Christ, he only serves a particular calling. To me, Bishop Hofstad serves as a reminder of the meaning of our sisters and brothers in Christ--that we are called to encourage one another, offer our ideas and resources to one another, and build one another up. Bishop Hofstad doesn't have the all the answers to make those connections, yet he serves as a reminder of our particular callings from God in the world and that we are in this service to God and neighbor together.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Sunday chaos highlights body of Christ and discipline lesson
Given my personality preferences, preparing for worship is not a highly detailed experience. I have learned to play and work with the detail-oriented folks over the years--but it's not completely for my benefit. To some degree, I am usually scrambling before a worship service about some detail. I suppose some of this pattern is related to interim ministry. By the time I am truly accustomed to flow of a congregation, it's time for me to go to the next congregation. However, there are days where any pastor is scrambling before a worship service because something has gone far off track. Sunday was one of those days.
Our music director, Bruce Ewen, had a bad fall while working at the local community theater. Though he attempted to play (he thought he may have had a broken arm), I wanted him to have doctors look at his injuries, and told him we could take care of things. We have several musicians in the congregation, but the ones who could probably help us immediately weren't available (at least in my limited time and understanding). With about 45 minutes before worship, I wasn't sure how we were going to pull everything off.
Madeleine Folkerts (above, playing one of the pieces used Sunday) was scheduled to play one piece, but she played a few extra pieces for the service--a postlude, some communion music and some meditative/prayerful pieces. Amy Hutchison accompanied in a pinch, and played beautifully so we didn't have to sing a cappella at the 930 and 11am services for Amazing Grace and Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee. Without Pastor Orv and Bruce around, I was dashing around and trying to maintain a sense of calm and decorum--with side dishes of humor and flexibility.
I even changed my sermon around a bit (though still focusing on 1 Corinthians 9: 19-27)--I was preaching about discipline and change, and I ended up preaching that in the Christian life, discipline is not for discipline's own sake. Discipline is not meant for someone in authority to control or abuse others. Discipline is a gift especially for the times of adversity. We even hosted a Tae Kwon Do demonstration during the sermon to lift visually depict the positive nature of discipline. We focus on Word and Sacrament as an extension of God's love and forgiveness, but also a discipline that brings together the people of God, so that sharing the Sacraments are part of our habits, even though the world around us may be in turmoil.
Looking back, the day of worship was blessed. The day didn't look blessed in the beginning. Maintaining calm and prayer were the first priorities. The day was blessed because of the faithfulness of God and the response of many in the body of Christ.
Our music director, Bruce Ewen, had a bad fall while working at the local community theater. Though he attempted to play (he thought he may have had a broken arm), I wanted him to have doctors look at his injuries, and told him we could take care of things. We have several musicians in the congregation, but the ones who could probably help us immediately weren't available (at least in my limited time and understanding). With about 45 minutes before worship, I wasn't sure how we were going to pull everything off.
Madeleine Folkerts (above, playing one of the pieces used Sunday) was scheduled to play one piece, but she played a few extra pieces for the service--a postlude, some communion music and some meditative/prayerful pieces. Amy Hutchison accompanied in a pinch, and played beautifully so we didn't have to sing a cappella at the 930 and 11am services for Amazing Grace and Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee. Without Pastor Orv and Bruce around, I was dashing around and trying to maintain a sense of calm and decorum--with side dishes of humor and flexibility.
I even changed my sermon around a bit (though still focusing on 1 Corinthians 9: 19-27)--I was preaching about discipline and change, and I ended up preaching that in the Christian life, discipline is not for discipline's own sake. Discipline is not meant for someone in authority to control or abuse others. Discipline is a gift especially for the times of adversity. We even hosted a Tae Kwon Do demonstration during the sermon to lift visually depict the positive nature of discipline. We focus on Word and Sacrament as an extension of God's love and forgiveness, but also a discipline that brings together the people of God, so that sharing the Sacraments are part of our habits, even though the world around us may be in turmoil.
Looking back, the day of worship was blessed. The day didn't look blessed in the beginning. Maintaining calm and prayer were the first priorities. The day was blessed because of the faithfulness of God and the response of many in the body of Christ.
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