Go, American People!

In this presidential election year, I am reminded to check my assumptions.

The population of the United States is approximately 313 million people. If I take in any report about the campaign, little time elapses between each utterance of the title "American People."

The American People expect, The American People demand, The American People deserve, The American People want. I am calling for a diet for "American People." Occasionally a generalization illuminates a point. I try to use them sparingly, because I hope that I respect the uniqueness of individuals. We are all made in the image of God, yet with many idiosyncrasies.

American People is not a precise title. Maybe we should assume that politicians and pundits mean the United States, but Canada is in North America. Mitt Romney is probably not speaking to the people of Montevideo (Uruguay, not Minnesota). Barack Obama is not likely looking for commentary from Ascuncion.

To go along with my cover bands Lenten Journey and The True Meaning of Christmas, my next band will be called The American People, each band a living satire, reminding me to check my assumptions when I speak, write or tweet.

Why Feed the Certainty Beast?

People crave certainty.

From politicians (flip-floppers are despised), to weather forecasters, to pastors, a certain section of the public demands certainty and becomes apoplectic when the certainty beast isn't fed.

I'm not in the certainty business.

I don't care if a politician is a flip-flopper. If a political leader needs to change their position based on an honest gathering of information, I appreciate that the leader is using their brain and a level of discernment (flip-flopping for pure political expediency is another story).

University of Washington atmospheric science professor Cliff Mass shares that if a forecast needs to change, then change it based on the information in front of you, and forget the earlier forecast. Mass took a lot of heat for changing his forecast, but he had to. The information changed.

The fearful thing with the role of politician and weather forecaster is that while the public demands certainty, fulfilling the leadership calling recognizes that feeding the certainty beast is not necessarily faithful. At least, this is how I see it as a pastor.

Some might argue that most of all, a pastor is in the certainty business. If a pastor is not the bearer of certainty about God and Christ, then what's the point? I can't speak for others who share my profession, but I believe that God gives followers power to share their witness of God's activity in the world (see Acts 1: 6-11) and that the cross of Christ is more about the faithfulness of God than the certainty of God. If I put my effort into being certain in relation to my neighbor, I lose opportunities to remain connected to my neighbor.

Being connected to my neighbor communicates the faithfulness of God more than certainty. The certainty beast does not have to be fed, though it will continue to growl.

Take your pick: movement or institution?

Is it better to be part of a movement or an institution?

Once again, Seth Godin has me thinking about factories. During this time of economic restlessness and ennui, some call for America to return to its industrial revolution days and make things. When America made things, many people had steady paychecks and pensions. Middle-class America worked hard, saved money and many sent their kids to college, trade school, or set their children up for a good life. Institutions felt safe.

The church participated in the world of factories, too. In my Lutheran church world, good children of Northern European immigrants worked hard, canned vegetables and fruit, saved their money, and sent their children to Lutheran colleges (hat tip to Garrison Keillor to help me understand the cultural history of my tradition), which theology and religion departments served as factory feeders for Lutheran seminaries. That world was changing when I attended a Lutheran seminary in the 1990's; we were told that demographics were shifting, and more seminary students were coming from state colleges and universities than every before, quickly approaching 50 percent. I remember there were adjustments to the factory. Paul Sponheim told one of my classes that he used to be able to count on seminary students having a solid background in philosophy, but no more. He adjusted by giving a 2-3 lecture survey of philosophy.  There was some flexibility in the institution, but it was hard.

I became a pastor/product of a Lutheran seminary, prepared to enter other smaller factories including the ELCA Board of Pensions, Thrivent Financial for Lutherans (formerly Aid Association for Lutherans and Lutheran Brotherhood), and a series of congregational factories producing meetings of all kinds, including Women of the ELCA, church councils, Sunday School, and a whole host of committees. The idea was that if I faithfully participated in all of these institutions, I will be assured to have money to live on after my working days are done.

There are still places where the factory/institution of church still exists, and often times it is supported by the culture or demographics. Sometimes the institution is supported by hard working and intelligent leaders. However, in many places (I live in one of these places), Lutheran and other Mainline/Oldline Protestant traditions are part of crumbling institutions; there is no guarantee of security for any pastor or church professional. Some of my colleagues long for the institutional days of security. Some are angry at the culture. Some are angry at other colleagues for making the church what it is today and question their faithfulness or their understanding of theology or tradition.

One of my good friends and colleagues invited me to a discussion about 5 years ago regarding his tradition. He was part of a relatively new tradition, full of passionate people and congregations. People had toiled and worked tirelessly to develop a movement of grace, hospitality and justice. Some people who had been working in the grass roots of the movement were concerned about the continuation of the movement for generations to come. Pensions, health insurance, and constitutions became part of meetings and regular discussion. What was once a movement was becoming an institution. What was once full of energy, passion and care became meetings with minutes and boredom.

What happened?

I am not writing today to decry institutions. I am curious about society and the church of which I am a part, and our over-dependence and skewed expectations of institutions to make life good. I appreciate many institutions in my life that helped provide for me in my life. From government safety nets, to church organizations, to educational systems and to congregations, I am thankful for the generosity of God and the collective work of many. The problem is that institutions exist to self-preserve, and my understanding of following Christ is that our attention is directed toward God and neighbor, and that our institutions, at least in the understanding of Christian faith never exist for the sake of themselves, only that they turn our attention toward God and neighbor--that is a movement.

Are movements and institutions mutually exclusive? Can an institution behave like a movement or beget a movement? After my first season of ministry (about 12 years) studying and being the church as an institution, is it possible to be the church as a movement? Do movement-minded people abandon the institution? Do institution-minded people shun the movements? I do not know the answer to these questions, but I do know that my desire for security sometimes keeps me from challenging myself and others (wouldn't want to risk my pension), so I am willing to uphold the church factory system while I happily attempt to break through it. We don't live in a factory society anymore, but my fellow citizens and I behave like we do. The big problem is, regardless of institution or movement, I am a person of mixed motives and allegiances. But I also know that God does something even with the mixed motive people. Thanks be to God.

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

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

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

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

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

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




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Bridgeport Way SW,Lakewood,United States

Checking out a different field--baseball writing

A few days ago, I shared an exploration I took into baseball writing. I auditioned for some work in baseball writing, something only possible because so many professions have flattened their hierarchies. To be a baseball writer a decade ago, I probably would have had to hold a journalism degree or work my way in at the bottom, such as what I did back in the summer of 1989. My summer job then at The Olympian involved data entry, obituary writing, predicting the weather (sort of) and the occasional feature or news article.

Without a journalism degree or much experience, and equipped only with a love of writing and the Mariners, I took a chance at writing for a Seattle Mariners baseball blog. Some of the best sports writing and analysis I've seen comes from these blogs. I still appreciate the beat writers employed by various news outlets, but the bloggers have magnified the quality of baseball writing available to interested fans.

I did not get the "job" after my audition, but I received a good compliment about my writing. I learned a lot from this one week venture into another field. Some of my colleagues in ministry do work in other fields often. Others stay in the confines of the church for their entire careers and lose perspective and connection with what people who sit in worship encounter on a daily basis. My colleague, leader and teacher Ruben Duran says that "the church is not an end in itself, but the means by which God blesses the world." Too often pastors see the church as the end and fail to connect with those outside of the church world. Though my foray into writing on topics other than church was limited, it provided me a reminder of the insular nature of church life. Last time I checked, God loved the world, not only the church.

For all the perspective I gained, at the very least baseball writing for a weekend was fun. If you're not a baseball fan, or don't deal with advanced baseball metrics, the articles won't be of much interest. The one that might be of interest sits at the bottom of the post, since it touches on some theological themes.

A hypothetical Mariners roster move (thoughts on Matt Tuiasosopo)

Is something not quite right with King Felix?
___________________________________________

If you want to learn more about advanced baseball metrics, the library at Fan Graphs gives more information than you ever wanted to know. But it's a start.

Movement toward baseball truth takes more than nerds
By Joe BW Smith

Baseball is joining the topics of religion and politics in my family.

Why?

I am a relatively recent convert to advanced baseball metrics. Now that I concern myself with BABIP and ISO, my family can’t talk about the baseball things we used to talk about (at least I can’t with a straight face). The debates between my father and I have shifted. I fully realized this shift the other night when Dad showed concern about the variables in Felix attaining a win over the Red Sox toward his “record.” I found myself not caring at all about a pitcher win for the first time as a baseball fan. More than not caring, I almost forgot the win for Felix entirely. This gradual shift occurred over 2 years. A pitcher win hadn’t mattered for a long time (thanks, Keith Law), kind of like saying goodbye to a dying grandparent who lives in a nursing home; they are a mere shell of their former selves: they’re not living, they’re existing. Pitcher wins died to me a long time ago, and merely exist in a box score or pitching line. I ignored variables associated with a pitcher win Saturday night (RIP, pitcher wins, we’ll still have an award called Cy Young, remembering your existence). What really concerned me about Felix on Saturday was the amount of line drives the Red Sox lasered all over Safeco. I had to find out about Felix’ line drive rate (it’s the worst of his career). But hey, it looks like Felix will get more wins this year! RIP, indeed.

Since I’m losing the ability to talk about baseball with my father, I have to ask the question:

What is the point of gathering baseball statistics?

I ask this question because I believe the human tendency is do negative things with insider status. Advanced baseball metrics are becoming more mainstream all the time. We know this to be true on the national level with Greinke and Felix winning Cy Young awards while pitching for crappy teams. We know this to be true locally, because it’s not just the beat reporters who help form public discourse on baseball (Geoff Baker, Larry Stone, Ryan Divish (sniff), etc.), but now we can hear Dave Cameron and Jeff Sullivan on the radio, and their words are shared at the ballpark and at the water cooler—“Cust didn’t hit many dingers, but that OBP was just gaudy.” All of this makes me wonder if some of the innovator and early adapter stat gurus are going to cop an attitude like fans of an once edgy band that goes mainstream: “Dude, I only like U2’s EARLY stuff.” Something like, “oh, UZR was sooooooo 2009.”

The point of baseball statistics is to tell the truth about baseball performance. What works against that truth is, baseball is a game that involves relationships. We probably know from some family relationships we’ve observed (maybe even our own), that even though we may have contact or connection with someone, doesn’t mean that we’re interested in truth. The same truth avoidance applies to baseball as it does families. Dan Shaughnessy of the Boston Globe has written about sports and baseball spanning decades. He probably has countless relationships and work hours associated with a particular way of knowing baseball. Over a period of time he learns that the validity of some of his analysis is flawed. Of course he and others are going to be defensive, even downright hostile (his hostility toward advance metrics is well documented). Shaughnessy’s work and his relationships are affected by the changes in gathering statistics. Now the responses between advanced baseball statisticians and older generations of baseball analysts resemble political and theological discussions. You could probably tell stories about what discussions of politics and religion do to your family’s Thanksgiving. Baseball has drifted in that direction in my household. We still maybe able to discuss the Hot Stove League over Thanksgiving Turkey, but I’m not counting on it. There will always be barriers in finding truth—in baseball, politics and religion. It’s about control. Sometimes the carnage just sits there at Thanksgiving dinner (literally and figuratively).

The goal of gathering baseball statistics is truth about baseball performance. Yet, baseball is a game of relationships as well as athletic performance. The pursuit of baseball truth needs more ambassadorships, people who are well versed in the powerful link between relationships, truth and baseball. I think we see portions of that with Dave Cameron’s radio and social media appearances. Social media tools make the relational side of baseball truth gathering more possible. I am in awe of the response and interest in Cameron’s publicity of his leukemia and treatment (I’m sure he’s more in awe than me). In any learning environment, I have learned that relationships make the information more useful. Cameron’s public contact increases his trustworthiness. My exploration into advanced baseball metrics began reading Keith Law chat transcripts—where discussions of literature, language, cooking and FIP converged. Law answered my literature question before he ever answered my baseball questions.

Last Friday night at the Rainier's game, a good friend and I shared a Deschutes IPA. He attends far more live games each spring and summer than me. He has season tickets to his local semi-pro team, and his family gets to know the players over the season. He knows a lot about the game, but there are also many relationships woven in that knowledge. The topic of pitcher wins and run support came up in our conversation as we broke down the Fister trade and watched Luke French get pummeled. It was an opportunity to talk and figure out the truth of baseball performance. It’s one thing to have Jeff Sullivan tell me statistically why Luke French isn’t going to cut it; it’s another to be able to come to that conclusion among friends and family. It takes more than nerds to figure out the truth about baseball, but I’m glad that we have them, and that there are ambassadors among them.

A belated, yet incarnational review of Carol Howard Merritt's "Reframing Hope"

I received a copy of Carol Howard Merritt's book, Reframing Hope, several months ago, soon after it was published. I made a promise I would review the book and share my insights on her work.

I couldn't bring myself to read it. I read the book in fits and starts, never getting beyond the first 20 pages. I like to keep my promises, so the book sat on my desk, mocking me. I met Carol at Unconference11 (#unco11) in May and talked with her a few times. She is gracious and encouraging both in social media circles and in person, and has many great things to share with the church. So I felt worse about not publicly contributing to the conversation about her book.

After a bi-coastal trip for congregational redevelopment last month and racking my brain in considering what I learned, I ripped through the book. I don't do this very often. I tend to take my time with books, pondering stories, philosophies and theologies. After hearing the stories from my colleagues about congregational decline at my training and also the stories of God at work delivering a sense of urgency in struggling communities, a title containing "hope" gained new cache in my vocation.

Why today? Why now?

For ten years until about 8 weeks ago, I served the church as an interim pastor. I brought great passion to my work, giving witness to God amid the vortex of congregational dynamics associated with a congregation in a pastoral leadership gap. I always considered myself a bearer of hope in the interim ministries I served.

What I realized as I read Reframing Hope was that there was a gap in the hope for Christian faith communities I could deliver as an interim pastor. My reasoning is that as an interim pastor, I always had an escape hatch. My time with a congregation averaged about 15 months, or at a retreat in a consultation. I was exhausted (usually in a good way) from the work, but I knew that after the limited time with the congregation, I could leave. I was the pastoral equivalent to how many grandparents function (though this is evolving). They get the grandkids for an afternoon, an overnight, or a weekend or longer, but often there is an end in sight. Grandparents have hope for their grandchildren. But I hear from many grandparents with a wry smile after a long exhale: "they go home." As an interim pastor, I always got to go home. It doesn't mean grandparents or interim pastors aren't passionate about their congregations, but the distance is different.

Now I find myself in a congregation that has significantly struggled in recent years. My wife and I bring our daughters to St. John's Lutheran Church in Lakewood, Washington, and ponder what God might be up to. We're looking for a home in the area. We're thinking about the schools for our daughters. Our relationships in the community take on greater weight. The stories of faith in the congregation take on a new sense of the Spirit for me. In the stories of past and current hurts of the people at St. John's, the Incarnation of God in Christ is palpable.

Reframing Hope is an incarnational book. It is about the presence of God witnessed in the life of congregations. This is not an academic exercise book. However, Reframing Hope calls on some good academic resources to give witness to the movement of God from numerous facets of congregational life as well as Howard Merritt's personal faith and ministry stories. It also gives a historical survey of the church in the American context and perspectives on emerging approaches to faith and congregational formation, from ancient practices to social media, recognizing the imperative of contributions of all God's people to sharing the grace of God in Christ with the world. Reading Reframing Hope probably wouldn't have made as much a difference to me as an interim pastor. It's a solid contribution for any ministry consideration. However, there is a fine line between personal investment and incarnational investment in ministry. I'm learning that, and Reframing Hope is a good reference point for my ongoing discernment.

I believe hope in Carol Howard Merritt's Reframing Hope is about incarnation--God's presence using the multitude of opportunities available to congregations ranging from classical liturgies to social media and beyond. I find this hopeful as I work to partner with the people of St. John's in redeveloping a community of faith. During my recent training in Newark, there were times I was downright fearful. Soon there will be a time I won't be traveling 30 minutes to get home after time at the church. Reframing Hope will continue to be a good conversation facilitator as St. John's movies into God's preferred future.

If you love a congregation (or many) and struggle to find how that congregation recognizes God at work in a changing world, I commend to you Reframing Hope to your ongoing discussion.

Place matters--how do your surroundings affect how you see the world?

How does where you live--culture, environment, physical surroundings and their corresponding relationships affect how you look at the world? How does it affect how you look at faith and congregational life?

My passion for these questions took a sabbatical over the past few years. After living for 20 years in the Midwest, I moved with my family to the Seattle metro, where I grew up before taking off for college and early adulthood. I am thankful for the relationships (where I met my wife), mentoring and opportunity in the Midwest (I lived and worked in rural and urban areas in KS, MN, WI, SD and IA). However, there was always some dissonance about my perceptions (particularly of faith and congregational life).

That dissonance runs both ways. I watched it last night at a grant planning meeting, where my Minnesota-native wife raised a particular point to the group. Someone responded, "is that a Midwest (church) thing?" No, Melanie responded, the congregational cultural attribute was part of her Las Vegas congregation, where she served her internship. She hears this kind of question/response loop in her work with congregations. In the particular expression of Lutheranism in the Pacific Northwest, it is common to hear about the church prowess of the Lutheran Holy Land of the Northern Great Plains (MN, ND, SD, IA), with the implication that the Pacific Northwest expression is somehow inferior. It appears from folk culture to church structure to leadership orientation.

One of my colleagues in South Dakota and I discussed this dissonance of place and perception on occasion. I had perceived that sometimes the Midwestern ethos is connected to a moral superiority. I had collected a series of op-ed pieces and letters to the editor that rejected the values of the West Coast and espoused the life in South Dakota. I was attempting to interpret what was behind that understanding. She responded that a Coastal ethos often depicts a cultural superiority. It was hard to disagree with either observation.

In congregational life the diversity of backgrounds is hard to ignore. For every perception of a degree of homogeneity, there are several divergent variables that affect perceptions and relationships. I remember seminary days with scholars and students who espoused some kind of pure faith and theology where culture didn't matter, and that somehow that pure theology could exist in a vacuum. To say there is a pure Christianity apart from culture reeks of gnosticism, where only insiders get to know and understand the "pure" theology.

Today's reflection was inspired by Kansas native Chris Suellentrop and his thoughts on the Kansas City sports landscape. Maybe you're interested in sports and place. If not, what caught my attention was one particular observation about the intersection of place and life, and one that didn't come from a Midwest outsider like me (if you don't want to read the entire article):

"Combine this romantic, backward-looking vision with the traditional Midwestern delusion that you are more American than the rest of the country, and you're left with a strikingly insular self-conception, a sense that you are in a place in righteous decline."--Chris Suellentrop, grantland.com, 7/7/11

That post re-awakened in me the importance of place as a variable to understanding our relationships with God and one another. It made me think about what it means to be a Lutheran Christian in the United States. Who once lived in the Midwest and married someone from the Midwest. Who loves everything about the geography of the Pacific Northwest (reacquainting myself with this love has distracted me from the deeper questions--they're now back). All of these things affect my relationship and vocation. The question is how? What does it mean?

Place matters. For a person of faith, place matters. The Bible features several stories and reflection about the land--think about the Promised Land. Even buildings receive special billing--the Bible features several stories about building programs. There is lament and hope intertwined with building destruction and reconstruction, and all that goes into the construction and recognition of place.

The question for me about the intersection between place and life is not that it exists, but how and why? What do you think?

Consequences of the "Ownership Society" Considered

Americans don't have to look far to see the how the desire for home ownership led hundreds of thousands of people down a destructive path. Foreclosures, a teetering economy, and bankruptcy have people closely considering their personal, household and even congregational balance sheets.

What are the roots of these economic consequences?

Some people believe that economic unraveling is purely a management issue. People will look to the President, the Chair of the Federal Reserve, the Chief Financial Officer, the Business Manager, the Pastor, the Treasurer, the Family Budget Manager as the source for leadership in managing financial well-being for any nation, organization or family. If the budget is tinkered with just so, if the investments are adjusted and organized properly, all will be well. I'm not so sure.

This reflection is not meant to lift up a particular ideology. I am not espousing communism, socialism or even capitalism. What is a wise understanding of ownership?

Under consideration:

1. I believe that God owns everything. I am a steward of what belongs to God. I truly own nothing. I take care of what belongs to God. This knowledge affects my day to day decisions. This basic premise helps me do generous things, even though I am often selfish. It affects how I live with my wife, how we teach our children, and how we interact with others. Even with a steward mentality, stewards still make decisions about the degree of control they use. This is where management comes in to play.

2. Congregations have an interesting relationship with ownership.

• Some congregations are mortgaged with their facilities to their eyeballs. 
• Some congregations have saved and/or used their own sweat and labor, worshiping God in a church building that carries no debt. 
• Some congregations generously share their facility with the community; many groups from the area meet and gather for serving and being served. 
• Some congregations lock up their buildings after Sunday mornings and make statements like "we don't want to have too much wear and tear on the building," or "this is God's house" as a means to decide which groups meet in the church building.
• Some congregations proclaim "the church is not a building, it's people." How this statement is lived out takes on many forms. Sometimes it means rejecting building ownership. Sometimes it means mortgaging a future so the congregation can do ministry for people in their building now.

3.  For the most part, I think we humans have a relationship with property that I'm sure we will never figure out. Each congregational facility scenario carries pitfalls and consequences. Eugene Peterson in his introduction to the Old Testament book Haggai discusses that the argument that the church is not a building, but people is an incomplete argument, because as human beings, we occupy both time and space. There will always be a need for a place to be in relationship with God and with one another. Place matters. How are we to understand place?

4. The challenging aspect of ownership for many households and congregations involves resource allocation in order to be "owners." Even if debt-income ratios are judged as favorable, there is a significant loss of flexibility of both time and cash in many ownership situations. A building takes personal energy for both congregations and families, not only money.  Meetings and labor are needed to maintain the facility, not only income. If a congregation or a household has a great idea or initiative that serves others in a powerful way, that idea is subject to the mortgage and the debt-income equation, and a calling to serve is often compromised.

I've learned a few things from this reflection. "The Ownership Society" was a dangerous proposition on a large scale, possibly because there were ulterior motives or other values were compromised in order achieve ownership.  "Ownership" can be good to a certain extent (though there is no magic line that determines how much ownership is good, and having someone decide is foolish). The shakeout of household and congregational ownership is a matter of values and priorities. What do we value? How will we set our priorities? What resources do we need in order to live faithfully in accordance with our values? For Christians, the stewardship-ownership interface creates many challenges, but articulation of values and priorities create a reference point for daily action.

A few of the recent influences on my thinking:

• Richard Florida writes, tweets, researches, speaks often on variables related to ownership and creativity. I encourage reading his blog, books and articles. Check him out when he speaks on television.
• A blog post from a Forbes writer on home ownership.

Post-script

The who decides question looms in the background, especially for congregations, but that is for a future post.

Pastor-Congregation Member Friendships (and Interim Ministry)

Pastors are intimately aware of how people often approach them differently when they discover their line of work. My favorite is when people apologize for dropping an f-bomb in front of me, especially when that person wouldn't blush for saying the same thing in front of their grandmother. I was troubled by this at first. "Hey, I'm cool (not). Swear away."

Since I got over that dynamic, the question of how to relate to people in a congregation still remains, give or take the awkward apologies in social settings. A pastor does not operate in a clinical setting (unless they are some sort of licensed therapist). Yet, a pastor carries an expectation of presence in the midst of life's most turbulent times. The connection is powerful. I know I must be proactive to find friendships outside of church life, lest I lose perspective from fusion. If I minimize the connection with people in the congregation, there's an incarnational loss of shared faith and practice.

Because I live away from the interim ministries I serve, when I leave the congregation, a majority of the relationships essentially end. While we serve together, we have a shared focus. That does not mean there are not opportunities for friendships in the future; however, the relationship changes, as does the proximity. When I am no longer the pastor in a congregation, I do not officiate at weddings, funerals, baptisms, do pastoral care, or address congregational dynamics. I do not want to create triangles involving me, the called pastor, and others in the congregation. This situation is challenging to navigate. There is reciprocal value in the pastor-congregation member relationship. I deeply appreciate the support, camaraderie, service and learning shared in congregational ministry. Once again, the dynamic is changing because I will no longer be the pastor at First Lutheran Community Church in Port Orchard after March 7. I value the connections of yesterday, and maybe there will be connections tomorrow. But the relationship will change. I am still learning what that means, and a pray for what my colleague Marcia Carrier called, "a space of grace" as I see members of the congregations I have served in the future.

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.

Using the tools of the communication trade

My father was never much of a fix-it guy. We didn't have many tools lying around the house. Not much tinkering with cars or small engines or household appliances in my boyhood home. No spare bolts, wires or springs. I've used enough hand and power tools in shop class and through experimentation to get by. I don't necessarily enjoy using tools, but I appreciate the ability to use them.

My stocked tool box relates to congregational ministry, and I love to find tools to help me navigate, learn, and connect relationally. I've been picking up as many tools as I am able since 1998. Some tools I use more than others. My favorite tools recently relate to social media--blogging, Twitter and Facebook. I'm encouraged about what is possible through these tools. What is different about these tools is the open access--so many of the other tools I've used over the years require significant amounts of hours and resources of training and other start-up costs. Then the materials sit on a shelf, to be used rarely again, if ever at all.

I've been frustrated to see that the use of social media to connect is in limited use--at least in comparison with some of our Full Communion partners in the ELCA. I especially find PCUSA folk all over social media: Rev. Bruce Reyes-Chow, while serving as Moderator of the 218th General Assembly, offered important leadership concerning the use of technology for the church. I am in full agreement with him about blogging as a spiritual practice, appreciate his presence on Twitter, and his thought-provoking work with Carol Howard Merritt on their podcast God Complex Radio. I'm looking forward to gathering with many of these folks who take seriously their communication methodology of many different backgrounds (and hoping for a few more ELCA people) at Unconference 2011 in May.

My contention is not that the church will be "saved" by technology (I'll stick with Jesus), but these tools are as important to connecting people with God and one another as much as the telephone, sound amplification, and the printing press. Communication tools provide access and make the priesthood of all believers a more tangible reality than mere words. Social media encompasses several useful communication tools. Social media also happens to be where the Digital Natives communicate and congregate. Jesus went where the people were; he made few references to going to the house of worship. So I'm going to go where the people are.

I'm not making any revolutionary statements here, but it's what I've been thinking about, sometimes keeping me up at night. I'm reaching out to my colleagues and sisters and brothers in Christ (especially in the Pacific Northwest and the West Coast) in 20th Century-Brand Protestant churches (formerly known as Mainline Protestants) to gather our congregations out here to help teach the tools of communication. A conference, a webinar, a podcast, a traveling road show, a workshop--I don't care. I want to partner with some of my colleagues in the Pacific Northwest and serve others and use the tools available to all of us. I look forward to your ideas and feedback.

Not only are these tools for communication building the new front door to being church, but in many ways, they already are church.

Why I joined Facebook (finally)

I was never going to join Facebook because my friends said I should. I find it challenging enough to strengthen my primary relationships. I don't need Facebook telling me every time I log on about connections I need to be making. This introvert is overwhelmed by those thoughts.

I think an introvert, non-Digital Native makes reflective choices about how they are going to be present in public through social media, and I took a long time reflecting on what it meant for me to participate on Facebook.

What drove me to make the move? I think it's been over two years since I began receiving invitations. I don't expect my joining Facebook is a big deal to anyone else, but it had to make sense to me.

1. As a pastor, I am a communicator. That is my job. Jesus went to the people, and I am attempting to follow that example. Communication is also part of what makes me who I am. As a steward and student of communication, I can make choices about how I communicate (how frequently, the kinds of things I choose to post, etc.). However, I was persuaded that I could no longer afford to make the choice not to communicate in some ways at all.

2. The Social Network film inspired the sociology and communication student in me.

Seth Godin gave me a Facebook caveat reminding me to be a good communication steward, which my brother stated much more succinctly, "Facebook is a time suck." I don't need to contribute to the noise in the world, but make my communication count. Godin doesn't spend time on Twitter or Facebook. He puts out the only blog in which I read every entry.

I'll still enjoy seeing my friends on Facebook. It was fun to shock some of them by joining.

Shoring up the "family" in pastoral transition

As congregations emerge from a pastoral transition, the leadership begins discussion about what to do with those who have "strayed." People who further solidify their commitment to a congregation during a pastoral transition tend to believe that the public will be excited about their new pastor, as well as those who have lowered their commitment over the past few years. This part of transition is dangerous territory, mostly because this part of the path is thick with deeply rooted assumptions.

People who have increased their commitment to a congregation during a transition tend to assume the strayed members think like them and share their enthusiasm for a new pastor. If the perspective was shared, they would have been participating in the transition process in the first place. Those who have different commitment levels to the congregation do not warrant judgment, and if judgment is present, membership efforts will suffer. The public will probably be even less enthusiastic about a new pastorate. They may be curious about a new member of the community, but the public won't come rushing in just because a congregation welcomes a new pastor. To think otherwise overestimates the public presence of a congregation, especially in an age where congregations on the whole (especially in the Pacific Northwest) have eroded in their influence over the years. Even for a congregation deeply connected to public life, the social capital of a new pastor takes months and years of relationship building, both in trust and partnerships. This doesn't mean that the congregation should curb their enthusiasm about their new pastor or cut short their efforts to make public connections. Rather, congregations should be open minded about their expectations of the community.

Another assumption related to people whose commitment to a congregation wavers is linked to the desire to bring people back into the "family." I have strong suspicions (theologically and organizationally) of calling a congregation a family. However, the desire to bring back people who have lowered their commitment level feels as strong as the pull to bring back someone to a family fold who is/was estranged. That feeling is exacerbated in the midst of decline. The desire to reconnect with those who have separated from congregational life is not necessarily bad, but the methodology and responsibility must be clarified. In every interim ministry I served, a congregation assumes shoring up the "family" is the responsibility of the pastor. I tend to disagree with the idea of putting a lot of energy into shoring up the family, because this work tends to be done out of a position of anxiety rather than strength. If congregational leaders look at contacting people who have left the family as a means to get their numbers and budgets to better levels, the congregation is traveling a path that will lead to more anxiety and their work to connect will lack authenticity. If the methodology is rooted in a relational connection and an opportunity to learn about relational and ministry dynamics in the congregation, then the foundation for ministry will be stronger. I also struggle with the notion of "shoring up the family" because it is nearly impossible to have a conversation with someone who is walking away.

Regardless of the philosophy and theology of congregational membership, what I believe is of paramount importance is that a new pastor and congregational leadership have an understanding about methodology and responsibility related to membership. I have observed that this variable is the source of partnership breakdown in the both the previous pastorate and the new pastorate as well, and this variable is magnified in congregations that have experienced recent decline.

Another untimely review: The Social Network

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

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

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

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

An Action-Reflection Approach to Interim Ministry

After 11 years of interim ministry, the amount of questions related to the approach of my call to serve has reached a critical mass.

I arrived at the interim ministry call because I enjoy the foundational questions of congregational life. Who are we? Why has God called this community of faith to this particular place at this particular time? How do we relate to one another? What is our context for ministry? There were also some life stage questions and logistics that made interim ministry a good fit. My mentors, teachers and colleagues in ministry supported my move toward interim work, and I began my training. I learned a process developed with the leadership of Loren Mead from the Alban Institute, along with many others. The idea of building a professional interim ministry profession was that the time in between pastors was a prime opportunity for a congregation for self-study and discovery of new opportunities for ministry. This approach was an amateur sociologist's dream. I learned about interpersonal dynamics, organizational development, relational systems and demography. Mead outlined the "Developmental Tasks of Interim Ministry," based on sociological work, as well as history, pastoral care, theology and missiology.

I enjoyed the work and found stimulation and fulfillment in working with social science approaches to congregational life. Not only was I equipped to work with congregations in between pastorates, in my training I acquired many consulting-quality tools that gave me extra work and development of case studies with many other congregations. I attended continuing education events through the Interim Ministry Network, which gave me more tools. All the while my interim ministry colleagues and I were equipped with the mantra, "Slow down. Trust the process."

After 11 years, I don't trust the process. I still appreciate the social science approaches, and I believe the church is better for using tools to understand both relationships in the congregation and the context of their community. But the approach of slowing down and trusting the process to the tune of longer and longer interim ministries has caused me to question "The Process." "The Process," in my anecdotal observation expends more time as the years go on. What was once a 9-12 month endeavor in the 1990s has become closer to and 18-24 month path to calling a new pastor. My longest interim ministry lasted 31 months. I remember "longer interims" were part of collegial discussion at interim ministry conventions over the past several years. I found interim ministry fulfilling, so longer sounded better to me. I remember there was rationale for longer interim ministry the quality of self-study.

During the 31-month interim ministry, I wondered if the interim ministry methodology was truly serving congregations and providing an effective path to mission. I've met with numerous interim ministry colleagues over the years. We often encourage each other with the mantras we were taught. "Slow it down. Trust the process."

"My congregation is not slowing it down. They won't trust the process." Someone would say.

"Just tell them to slow things down. They need to trust the process. I can't believe they won't trust the process." Then we'd throw around some more jargon, share a little more indignation, maybe pray for each other, and meet the next month.

How do we really know that the interim ministry "process" is good for congregations? I don't believe there is a definitive answer. I know it's possible for interim ministry to be helpful. I have some faithful, skilled and intelligent colleagues who work well with congregations. However, I question whether slowing things down and trusting the process makes congregations better off after the interim ministry is completed. All of the slowing down seems to be done in the name of congregational determination of discovering "who we are and where we're going."

The problem with the prolonged self-study in interim ministry accompanied with slow down and waiting for the next pastor to arrive conditions creates multiple negative trajectories:

1. The congregation often fails to try new things while they determine how to move forward. The church doesn't learn to be in mission while being stagnant. It's the principle of "moving where you look," not to mention basic physics and kinesiology. Something at rest tends to stay at rest, something in motion tends to stay in motion. A mere slowing down and trusting the process enables more congregational inertia.

2. Can a congregation in mission afford both financially and missionally to be "on hold" for 1-2 years, possibly longer? I think both community and stewardship trust is compromised when the congregational ethos is "on hold" while the congregation engages in a prolonged self study at the expense of trying new things in ministry.

I've come to the conclusion that with all my lack of trust in the interim ministry "process" after 11 years and 7 interim ministries, my best path in interim ministry is an "action-reflection" approach. I don't believe this will speed up the process much (if at all). There are other variables involved in calling a pastor (number of openings, variations in judicatory involvement, economics, etc.). At the very least, as an action-reflection interim, I can address the negative trajectory caused by inertia. I can use my leverage as an interim to try new thing in ministry with the congregation. Will the congregation really be any worse off if what they try fails? I believe that the congregation will learn more about itself trying new ministry initiatives regardless of failure or success as opposed to extended periods of navel-gazing. My theory is actually that congregations can accelerate ministry during the interim time, be intentional about their reflection, and learn much more about their mission identity. This approach also begins a better ministry partnership with the next pastor--rather than go into the next pastor relationship with the attitude of "save us," the congregation can recognize they are searching for a ministry partnership.

Without knowing it, my approach to interim ministry has been more action-reflection for about 4 years; today I am engaged in a little more reflection after a flurry of action in my current interim ministry congregation.

Doing better than "seeing the kids"

Most of the congregations I encounter in ministry have high average ages, and that average won't go down in the near future. This demographic reality produces an emotional response in congregations.

In conversation gatherings of these older church-attending adults, I hear about a longing to see children in church. These longing congregations vary in their degree of connection with children, with a conglomeration of activities. Some congregations host a preschool or childcare facility. Some congregations provide an after-school program, or give meeting space to Boy Scouts or Girl Scouts. Some congregations host a vacation Bible school, or support a teenage youth group. For all of the hospitality and community connection a congregation makes, these programmatic connections don't mean as much to congregations as youth attending worship. Problematically, this is where the exploration of the dearth of young people ends, and a section of the body of Christ in North America continues to drain its vitality. Nancy Ammerman took a poignant look at practices of passing on faith in Mainline Protestant congregations. She found that most congregations at best put in less than an hour per week and details congregational behavior and practice in passing on the faith.

Let me state for the record that I am in favor of children participating in worship. However, "seeing" children/youth in worship is a short-sighted longing at best. Children and youth don't need to be seen in church as if their presence is an ego boost to the adults of the congregation. Children and youth are not to be paraded in front of a congregation because they are cute. Any interaction with children and youth in the life of the congregation involves an opportunity to teach them about faith in Christ and provide them an understanding of what it means to be part of a Christian community. It is not merely the task of the pastor, children's minister, or youth director to share faith with children and youth. Every group in the life of the church has something to pass on about what it means to be part of a Christian community. An altar guild, men's ministry, women's circle, Bible study group, food ministry, property committee, etc.--each have opportunities to pass on what it means to be part of a Christian community. On occasion I find a congregation that has no link to children and youth whatsoever. Even then, it is time for a congregation to look at the assets in a congregation for connecting with children and youth in some way without a preconceived expectation of how children will be "seen." Children and youth do not exist for our own glorification, but God's. A congregation in renewal will see in its community what can be given to children and youth rather than what they can get for having children and youth in the congregation.

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.

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.

Book Review: "Tribal Church: Minstering to the Missing Generation" by Carol Howard Merritt

I know I am late to the party reviewing this book (I have an excuse); Carol Howard Merritt (a Presbyterian Church-USA pastor) is about to publish another book--soon. Maybe people who are checking out her new book will want to know more about the older book.

Many reviewers of Tribal Church stated there are good ideas in Carol's book for inter generational ministry, but I'm not so sure this is an idea book as a conversation for leaders (and anyone else interested) about their congregational culture. If you're looking for specific ideas to replicate, you might find something, but you might look to another resource. Tribal Church likely fits better for small to mid-sized (up to 250 in worship) "Mainline [or what I call 20th Century-Brand] Protestants." Carol happens to name the plight of missing Gen Xers and Millennials and what it means for the life of the Church, but Carol's content and style inspires any congregation to better use the assets it already has to reach people in the margins of the community. I believe this is the book's greatest gift. The book's final chapter magnificently states in affirmation "The mainline denominational church has everything it needs to minister to younger generations." This is a powerful statement, I find that most of the congregations I serve in one capacity or another focus on what they do not have, rather than what they have.

When reviewing a ministry book, I answer the question, "how would I use this book in my congregation?" I have served in interim ministry for 9 years, covering 9 congregations. I believe the congregational transition between pastors is a great time to use this book. Here is why I would have used it in most (but not all) of my interim congregations:

1. Most small to mid-sized congregations, for a variety of reasons, will be calling a younger clergy person in their future. Carol names and broadly discusses the numerous challenging variables for young clergy (it should be noted that most variables could apply to early career clergy, but particularly young clergy). Some congregations may not be aware of the challenges and the lack of awareness could be the source of previous pastor-congregation discord. Awareness and action to address certain issues named in the book could produce a healthier relationship with the next pastor.

2. Pastoral transitions provide a great opportunity to evaluate congregational ministries. Howard Merritt astutely raises points around many contentious situations in the target congregational group:

• "The _____________ (fund-raiser, cultural event) supper [for Scandinavian Lutherans, insert lutefisk]."
• Committee service
• Leadership development
• Declining participation in a small group that appealed to people decades ago
• Demographic and sociological realities
• Generational divides
• Clergy critique

3. The bigger picture of Tribal Church is the question that every congregation in transition must address: why do we (the congregation) do the things that we do? The bromide: "that's the way we've always done it" does not get a free pass in this book. I love asking this questions to my interim congregations, and this book provides multiple entry point.

I have a hard time not liking this book. Having recently exited the sub-group of "young clergy," I share a great deal of solidarity with Carol Howard Merritt and the advocacy she offers for Gen X and Millennial generations, as well as the small to mid-sized mainline Protestant congregations. I've served a majority of my ordination working with congregations in that classification, and shared in her advocacy work. The book could easily be shared in a coffee house or a church basement over a series covered dish/potluck/hotdish supper (depending on your area of the country), or in a church board room. You don't have to agree with every issue Carol Howard Merritt raises, but she will introduce you to an important evaluation of your congregational culture and practices worthy of a personal and graceful discussion, especially if you notice that Gen X and Millennial generations are missing from your congregational life.

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

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

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

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

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