In interim ministry, I often look at the calendar in anticipation of the next pastor's arrival. I usually exhale, much like the congregation. Sometimes my exhale lasts a few months after I say my thank yous and good byes to my partners in ministry. This will be my last unplanned sabbatical.
I always have a few projects and goals. Envelop myself as a house husband for a few months. Clip more coupons, find where I can buy the cheapest fresh spinach, work toward a deeper sense of household feng shui. Write more. Exercise more. Read more Bible. Facilitate more peace for wife and daughters through order, sleep better, and purge the stuff that creeps into the house, multiplying like termites. Too much plastic, too much paper, too many unused tools. They all sounded good at first glance, but they all clog my life as my pores clogged as a teenager. Sabbatical is more than rest. Sabbatical works like astringent.
I have a project that continues to provoke my soul, and it feels like make or break time. I don't need money. I only need time. I haven't given up on the dream of another degree. The formal path does not work for my family and me. If I am truly passionate about religion in the Salish Sea region, the research and information gathering beckons. It matters not whether others find it interesting, because it is the story of my life to be learned and told. My sabbatical is one month away. Intentional rest, intentional work. Outside of visiting my brother in Edmonton, I will avoid driving, for that has been my part-time job during my current interim ministry. Commuting alone (or with my daughters) by car kills me.
During my longer tenure as a house husband, I embodied a few lessons taught to me by monks in the District of Columbia and my spiritual director in Sioux Falls.
1. Raising young children is similar to a monastic life.
2. Manual labor is a form of prayer.
Though networking will be on my sabbatical agenda (the next ministry awaits on the other side). I hope the wisdom of God and my prayers and the prayers of those who love me will shape my next season of life and ministry. God saw that the creation was good in sabbatical, and I am visualizing the most fulfilling unplanned sabbatical yet. I know it won't completely go in the rudimentary plans I formulate today, but I know the Holy Spirit will move in those days.
Showing posts with label stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stuff. Show all posts
Friday, February 4, 2011
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.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Congregational Bromides: "We are a generous church."
Congregations, like people, are skittish related to money conversations. The tension has heightened for households and congregations in the ELCA. Some people and congregations chose to withhold offerings from congregations and synods related to Churchwide Assembly 2009 decisions concerning same sex relationships and clergy. The climate for stewardship was already challenging. In the midst of the tension related to money, congregations often make statements about the generous culture of the church, the generosity of their members, or the generosity of the leadership. What is the standard for generosity?
Public discourse often falls into the trap of emphasis on who gives the most. The person or organization that makes the big gift is lauded for their contribution. Large gifts are important for any non-profit type of organization, but a church has a calling to teach people about giving. Giving is one of the most referenced concepts in the entire Bible, more than love, prayer, and forgiveness combined. Before elaborating on generosity standards, consider these points:
1. Giving to religious organizations in the United States on average represents approximately 1-2% of annual household income. This figure is frequently referenced by church leaders and teachers, and this academic research confirms that publicly affirmed figure.
2. Related to point #1, in an anecdotal observation of giving in the Southwestern Washington Synod of the ELCA using (self-reported) congregational trend report statistics, the average giving amount per person in average worship attendance mostly falls in a range of $1000-$1500 annually to the congregation. This means that if your congregation has an average worship attendance of 100, your congregation's average offering income is $100K-150K per year. I'm investigating how that corresponds to how congregations give to their synods/ELCA. Once I gather that information, I'll post an update.
3. I think congregational leaders like to use the word "generous" referencing member giving because of the sense of relief they feel when a budget is met, a major project is completed, or a disaster strikes (Katrina, Haiti, North Dakota flooding, etc.) People indeed make an extra effort to meet certain needs in congregational life. People do give, but is it generous?
Many questions arise after the establishment of a simple giving standard. The biblical standard for giving is 10 percent of income--off the top (aka "first fruits giving). Does the 10 percent have to go to a local congregation first? Can a portion of the 10 percent giving go to other charitable organizations? Is the percentage of giving tabulated before or after taxes? These are interesting questions.
I have yet to reach a conclusion about the nature and scope about generosity, but I look for things that communicate generosity. Some points of generosity can be measured, others can't.
1. Sacrificial giving--do people or organizations actually give up something in order to help others? Or do they go deeper into debt while giving to others?
2. Growth in giving--if a giving standard of 10 percent is not met, then is the congregation growing in its giving, like half a percent growth in giving per year over a multiple year period?
3. Does a congregation extend its giving beyond 10 percent? I remember a challenge years ago when I served in the Greater Milwaukee Synod, when Bishop Peter Rogness invited us to consider becoming 50/50 congregations, sending out 50 percent of what we take in. I always aspired to serve that kind of congregation, but I have yet to experience first hand that kind of giving. Getting to 10 percent is challenging enough, and occasionally I experience something slightly over 10 percent.
4. I believe that true generosity reflects grace. Arguing and bickering about percentages misses the mark for grace. If giving leaves people feeling sour, the the giving and generous spirit is buried. One of the great congregational leaders with whom I worked, Otis Timm, told me instead of giving until it hurts, to give until it feels good. In his honor I called my stewardship newsletter, "Feel Good Giving."
What I find interesting is that congregational leadership wants people in their congregation to tithe, yet they struggle to tithe themselves. I learned holding an expectation rings hollow when leaders are not willing to do it themselves.Before I drift too far on a negative path, I must share that giving is not what makes people right with God. Giving is our response to God's love for us. But I do believe generosity can change the world. A self-giving, generous God in Jesus Christ gave to the point of a brutal death. In this example, generosity reflects going beyond expectations with giving and grace. My hope is that congregations reflect upon their usage of generosity and their proclamations of generosity in congregational life.
Public discourse often falls into the trap of emphasis on who gives the most. The person or organization that makes the big gift is lauded for their contribution. Large gifts are important for any non-profit type of organization, but a church has a calling to teach people about giving. Giving is one of the most referenced concepts in the entire Bible, more than love, prayer, and forgiveness combined. Before elaborating on generosity standards, consider these points:
1. Giving to religious organizations in the United States on average represents approximately 1-2% of annual household income. This figure is frequently referenced by church leaders and teachers, and this academic research confirms that publicly affirmed figure.
2. Related to point #1, in an anecdotal observation of giving in the Southwestern Washington Synod of the ELCA using (self-reported) congregational trend report statistics, the average giving amount per person in average worship attendance mostly falls in a range of $1000-$1500 annually to the congregation. This means that if your congregation has an average worship attendance of 100, your congregation's average offering income is $100K-150K per year. I'm investigating how that corresponds to how congregations give to their synods/ELCA. Once I gather that information, I'll post an update.
3. I think congregational leaders like to use the word "generous" referencing member giving because of the sense of relief they feel when a budget is met, a major project is completed, or a disaster strikes (Katrina, Haiti, North Dakota flooding, etc.) People indeed make an extra effort to meet certain needs in congregational life. People do give, but is it generous?
Many questions arise after the establishment of a simple giving standard. The biblical standard for giving is 10 percent of income--off the top (aka "first fruits giving). Does the 10 percent have to go to a local congregation first? Can a portion of the 10 percent giving go to other charitable organizations? Is the percentage of giving tabulated before or after taxes? These are interesting questions.
I have yet to reach a conclusion about the nature and scope about generosity, but I look for things that communicate generosity. Some points of generosity can be measured, others can't.
1. Sacrificial giving--do people or organizations actually give up something in order to help others? Or do they go deeper into debt while giving to others?
2. Growth in giving--if a giving standard of 10 percent is not met, then is the congregation growing in its giving, like half a percent growth in giving per year over a multiple year period?
3. Does a congregation extend its giving beyond 10 percent? I remember a challenge years ago when I served in the Greater Milwaukee Synod, when Bishop Peter Rogness invited us to consider becoming 50/50 congregations, sending out 50 percent of what we take in. I always aspired to serve that kind of congregation, but I have yet to experience first hand that kind of giving. Getting to 10 percent is challenging enough, and occasionally I experience something slightly over 10 percent.
4. I believe that true generosity reflects grace. Arguing and bickering about percentages misses the mark for grace. If giving leaves people feeling sour, the the giving and generous spirit is buried. One of the great congregational leaders with whom I worked, Otis Timm, told me instead of giving until it hurts, to give until it feels good. In his honor I called my stewardship newsletter, "Feel Good Giving."
What I find interesting is that congregational leadership wants people in their congregation to tithe, yet they struggle to tithe themselves. I learned holding an expectation rings hollow when leaders are not willing to do it themselves.Before I drift too far on a negative path, I must share that giving is not what makes people right with God. Giving is our response to God's love for us. But I do believe generosity can change the world. A self-giving, generous God in Jesus Christ gave to the point of a brutal death. In this example, generosity reflects going beyond expectations with giving and grace. My hope is that congregations reflect upon their usage of generosity and their proclamations of generosity in congregational life.
Friday, April 23, 2010
God revealed in conversation with daughter's mind
"The Wii is gone," I thought. "We've been broken into," I said under my breath.
At first I thought about being calm. I was mugged while I lived in Washington, DC. I was 25 years old. I called my mommy. Then I alerted my credit card companies. Then I called the police. I was going to be calm this time. Were the thieves still in the house?
My seven year old probably heard my statement. She screamed, "we were robbed!"
I called 911 immediately, hoping to get some help if the thieves were still there. My wife was over 2.5 hours away at work that evening. My parents were still at work. I couldn't leave because I wanted to meet the police. I wasn't sure what to do with the girls. I finally connected with my aunt, she came over with a friend. I called our insurance agent. The police came, asked some questions, searched the house, took some pictures. My parents came and took the girls for the evening.
No one was physically hurt. I thought the thieves took things that I found later. Later I discovered they took things I didn't realize at first. Family heirlooms were stolen. That hurts. They took my nice camera. That hurts. What they stole is not the point of this post. Stuff happens. We all adjust, react and cope in different ways. My wife, the heavy sleeper, who wouldn't wake up if you drove a truck through our bedroom, now wakes up multiple times per night. I feel more lethargic than I have in my entire life. My three year old shows no outward sign of knowledge of this break-in.
The most interesting aspect of this story is where I see God. After my seven year old screamed about what had happened, she grabbed a piece of loose leaf notebook paper and began to draw. I was glad because I didn't need to worry about her while I made phone calls. Within 15 minutes of coming into the house, my daughter drew the cartoon above. I'm still in awe of her craft. She has an Autism Spectrum Disorder. If I ever doubted the literature that ASD people think in pictures, I don't now. I lived her thoughts for that rare moment in time--and now I can better imagine the fears she experiences today. Everyone who walked into our home that evening saw her drawing. Maybe I marvel at the cartoon even more because I had to wait 4 years before I came close to a conversation with her. This cartoon depicts the thief coming into our house and taking the Wii. There are other characters that were not physically present in our house, like a snake and a stuffed lion toy, but I quickly knew what she created. I saw a gift in my daughter, and we connected. God revealed a gift in an anxious and painful situation--a call to me to develop that gift. Maybe she'll be an artist. Maybe I will look for a way for her to be mentored by a cartoonist. I do not know.
Even though this is my most challenging period of writing in the past two years (I'm finding it hard to create in the midst of violation and destruction), I'm taking joy in the creativity of my daughter. I wonder if this post is a turning point for me, but for now, my daughter's creativity is enough.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Adventures in de-cluttering and hand-written notes
I have recently devoted several hours per week to de-cluttering our household. Since moving from South Dakota to Washington, our home was downsized from 2200 square feet to 1350. The first few rounds of de-cluttering were easy, it was more like moving pieces of a puzzle around and attending to things I didn't have time to address during the move. Now, each disposal takes deeper thought and reflection. The bags that go to Goodwill take longer to fill.
Linking this de-cluttering to the Christian life is tempting. Though I know I'm forgiven for the log jam of sins committed over decades of life, it's still easy to carry the stuff around. God forgets it, so why can't I? If I forget what happened, does that make me prone to sin again? What I've found in de-cluttering my mind, soul and life is that the more I release, the easier it becomes in some respects. It may take more time to de-clutter, but the muscle and will required is exercised, and the depth of release is increased.
There are many reasons in a lifetime for holding on to things that need to be released. I remember the stories of disaster volunteers during the North Dakota flooding in the 1990's. My seminary colleagues found stacks of Styrofoam meat trays in one home (hundreds and hundreds) that had been saved for years in a home that had obviously lived through the Great Depression. Another found financial records dating back to the 1940's. Hanging on to things out of a strange combination of fear and resourcefulness left household after household of families and volunteers sorting through disaster areas of diseased flood waters and decayed stuff that was never released. I do not want my children and family to have to sort through meaningless stuff for months on end after my death. They'd have to at this point in my life, but what was once a few months may be able to be done in weeks. We will both be free to live our callings when we release.
One of the principles of organization consultant and TLC personality Peter Walsh discusses is giving things you want to save appropriate honor in a household--set up for easy recall, sharing and reflection. I recently found some handwritten notes from colleagues and congregation members. They were thoughtful, well-written and encouraging. About once a year, I review some of these notes and remember that my work does have a positive impact in people's lives. I have recently rejected and removed more paper in various forms than I ever could have imagined. Maybe I am a dinosaur--but a thoughtful, well-crafted, hand-written note of encouragement and thanks is a treasure. I suppose I can place these 20 or so notes in a display binder for future reference. In these notes I see the blessing of the body of Christ--definitely worth remembering and saving.
Linking this de-cluttering to the Christian life is tempting. Though I know I'm forgiven for the log jam of sins committed over decades of life, it's still easy to carry the stuff around. God forgets it, so why can't I? If I forget what happened, does that make me prone to sin again? What I've found in de-cluttering my mind, soul and life is that the more I release, the easier it becomes in some respects. It may take more time to de-clutter, but the muscle and will required is exercised, and the depth of release is increased.
There are many reasons in a lifetime for holding on to things that need to be released. I remember the stories of disaster volunteers during the North Dakota flooding in the 1990's. My seminary colleagues found stacks of Styrofoam meat trays in one home (hundreds and hundreds) that had been saved for years in a home that had obviously lived through the Great Depression. Another found financial records dating back to the 1940's. Hanging on to things out of a strange combination of fear and resourcefulness left household after household of families and volunteers sorting through disaster areas of diseased flood waters and decayed stuff that was never released. I do not want my children and family to have to sort through meaningless stuff for months on end after my death. They'd have to at this point in my life, but what was once a few months may be able to be done in weeks. We will both be free to live our callings when we release.
One of the principles of organization consultant and TLC personality Peter Walsh discusses is giving things you want to save appropriate honor in a household--set up for easy recall, sharing and reflection. I recently found some handwritten notes from colleagues and congregation members. They were thoughtful, well-written and encouraging. About once a year, I review some of these notes and remember that my work does have a positive impact in people's lives. I have recently rejected and removed more paper in various forms than I ever could have imagined. Maybe I am a dinosaur--but a thoughtful, well-crafted, hand-written note of encouragement and thanks is a treasure. I suppose I can place these 20 or so notes in a display binder for future reference. In these notes I see the blessing of the body of Christ--definitely worth remembering and saving.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
My relationship with paper and the printed word is slipping away
How is your relationship with paper these days?
Recently my aunt revealed a family artifact from the 1940's. It was a large volume of The Daily (newspaper) from the University of Washington. My Granddad in his college days worked for The Daily in various capacities. The paper itself was heavy, almost like parchment, and the ink had an emerging neon like-quality outlining the black of the nostalgic typeface. The ads depicted products and services likely departed from institutional memory.
"What do we do with it?" First things first, I had to put it down. It was heavy. I thought it might be able to be a coffee table book, assuming the table was the size of a standard door. I wondered if the U Dub would want this archival piece, but I'm sure they have their fair share of archives. "Let's keep it in the family." I appreciated the sentiment, because I will examine the volume one day. In some ways I wasn't sure it was wise to keep. This volume is big, bulky, and a lot of paper. I wondered about the value and usefulness of this paper.
Last night at a meeting, a member of the congregational Transition Team handed me a piece of paper with an article about our work together for the church newsletter. I didn't want the piece of paper. I'm less likely to read the piece if the writing is on paper. I asked her if she could email it to me. I was a little surprised by my request. I immediately started thinking about how I ended my newspaper subscription at the end of November. I like some of the tactile activity of reading the newspaper, but I don't miss it like I thought I would. My cycle of actions is beginning to disengage my life from the printed word. About the only reading I look forward to reading is a letter or card from a family member or friend, or a book I'm looking forward to reading, or for most of my Bible study. I imagine that will change soon, I can't quite get myself to direct 300 dollars toward a Kindle at this time. The iPhone I purchased in October has expedited the shift from paper to electronic communication and reading.
I know others have gone through this transition without much thought, pain or reflection. I can't say what I'm feeling with disengaging from paper is pain. I think that paper is a medium for relationships. My understanding of news and writing came through my relationship with my Granddad and paper. I still like writing and receiving cards from the people I love--especially handwritten cards. The Bible carries a bit more meaning when I turn pages and use my hands with the gentle motion of page turning and using my finger. This is my relationship with God we are talking about.
I can now imagine a day where I am not reading a printed word on paper for hours at a time. Last night I caught a glimpse of that life and the transition I am making. I'm not sure my life will be hurt by this change. That life is definitely different.
Recently my aunt revealed a family artifact from the 1940's. It was a large volume of The Daily (newspaper) from the University of Washington. My Granddad in his college days worked for The Daily in various capacities. The paper itself was heavy, almost like parchment, and the ink had an emerging neon like-quality outlining the black of the nostalgic typeface. The ads depicted products and services likely departed from institutional memory.
"What do we do with it?" First things first, I had to put it down. It was heavy. I thought it might be able to be a coffee table book, assuming the table was the size of a standard door. I wondered if the U Dub would want this archival piece, but I'm sure they have their fair share of archives. "Let's keep it in the family." I appreciated the sentiment, because I will examine the volume one day. In some ways I wasn't sure it was wise to keep. This volume is big, bulky, and a lot of paper. I wondered about the value and usefulness of this paper.
Last night at a meeting, a member of the congregational Transition Team handed me a piece of paper with an article about our work together for the church newsletter. I didn't want the piece of paper. I'm less likely to read the piece if the writing is on paper. I asked her if she could email it to me. I was a little surprised by my request. I immediately started thinking about how I ended my newspaper subscription at the end of November. I like some of the tactile activity of reading the newspaper, but I don't miss it like I thought I would. My cycle of actions is beginning to disengage my life from the printed word. About the only reading I look forward to reading is a letter or card from a family member or friend, or a book I'm looking forward to reading, or for most of my Bible study. I imagine that will change soon, I can't quite get myself to direct 300 dollars toward a Kindle at this time. The iPhone I purchased in October has expedited the shift from paper to electronic communication and reading.
I know others have gone through this transition without much thought, pain or reflection. I can't say what I'm feeling with disengaging from paper is pain. I think that paper is a medium for relationships. My understanding of news and writing came through my relationship with my Granddad and paper. I still like writing and receiving cards from the people I love--especially handwritten cards. The Bible carries a bit more meaning when I turn pages and use my hands with the gentle motion of page turning and using my finger. This is my relationship with God we are talking about.
I can now imagine a day where I am not reading a printed word on paper for hours at a time. Last night I caught a glimpse of that life and the transition I am making. I'm not sure my life will be hurt by this change. That life is definitely different.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Sermon Prayers and Thoughts: "How are your investments doing?"
I cherish my time off from preaching. I believe it was Luther who said preaching was "wrestling with the Devil." Though I am honored to share the Word of God and explore it with the congregation and enjoy the process--it's never easy and sometimes painful. The constancy of considering the Word, praying on it, and developing a message and delivering that message puts my mind and body on constant alert. I think it even affects my sleep. Part of the sermon crafting task is trust that God is present and that the Holy Spirit leads--therefore peace is also a portion of the full-body alert.
Matthew 6: 19-23 (From the Jesus' Sermon On The Mount)
19 ‘Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; 20but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
A lot of public discourse breath, voice and noise is devoted to investments. Investments represent a blizzard of human activity every day. Invest in gold or precious metals, invest in a 401k or 403b, invest through a pension or whole/universal life insurance, invest in commodities, put your money in a CD, bonds, a money market account or a savings account. Invest in a start up company. Play the stock market, play the lottery--just DO SOMETHING with the money that you earn.
Matt Skinner writes about the powerful dialectical relationship between our hearts and our money. Sometimes we think of money as the means to an end. We invest in something with a combination of numbers and letters for something that we can have in the end. We might be saving for a college education, a car, a vacation, or a retirement where we can spend special time with our loved ones and families and possibly see more of the country and the world. We might use a credit card (its own combination of numbers and letters) to pay for groceries, gas for our cars, or splurge a little bit on a new plasma television or to do something basic for a home improvement. In this way we see money as the means to an end. Often times the money itself doesn't mean that much to us along the way. Money has no value in and of itself--it's only ink and paper. So--how are these investments in your life doing? Sometimes our investments do quite well--they provide basic needs like food, clothing and shelter. Sometimes the product of our investments provide understanding, learning, enjoyment and entertainment. Sometimes these investments break down. These investments can also clog our closets and garages--they need way more maintenance and money than we ever anticipated. Regardless of our level of scope with investments--what we see as common investments are volatile.
Jesus says that "where our treasure is, there our heart will be also." Jesus says something different about money/treasure. Where we place that money also has power in directing our hearts, our passions, our thoughts, our prayers, our energy. Our treasure is not only a means to an end, but it also can direct our hearts. If we invest in something, that recipient of that investment continues to draw our energy, passions, resources, thoughts and prayers.
Investing in the work of God through First Lutheran Community Church is an investment in people and relationships. The investments in the work of God in the ministries at FLCC reach people's lives. God's love and the power of the Holy Spirit bring peace, joy and help to people all over the world. Your giving to God's work at First Lutheran Church is building up treasures in heaven, because people know God in a real way through the work of the FLCC. I believe the stories of people just like you reveal something about the relationship between our treasure and our hearts of which Jesus speaks.
I hope you've begun to think about your giving to God's work through the ministries of FLCC. As you reflect on your own stories about how God has touched your life and your investments of time, talent and treasure: how are your investments doing? Which investments carry more meaning? Which investments are "treasures in heaven?"
Confirmation is an interesting subject in Lutheran congregations. For some it represents a rite of passage. For some it represents the last time a parent forces a kid to do anything in church. I believe Luther didn't like the concept of Confirmation because he believed that Baptism did not need to be "confirmed" by anything or anyone. Baptism and the relationship between God and us cannot be confirmed--it is already set (in water, blood and promises). There was a move about 40 years ago to change the language to "Affirmation of Baptism" that never really stuck, probably because parents want their children to endure some of the same religious torture that they experienced. Confirmation in practice is really about an investment report on the promises that were made on the behalf of (usually) a child before their memories were formed. Promises of God were articulated. Promises were made by parents, sponsors and the congregation to raise a child in the faith in and of Jesus Christ. In preparation for this rite of passage, I learn more about the faith of these kids who have received the promises of God. For most of their childhood, they have been taught what to believe. Part of preparing for this rite is that young people begin to take the Bible stories of the youth and the heritage of their faith, and begin to formulate their own thoughts about how they will live out the gift of faith that has been given to them. This is another example of investment in treasures in heaven.
How are your investments doing?
Matthew 6: 19-23 (From the Jesus' Sermon On The Mount)
19 ‘Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; 20but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
The Sound Eye
22 ‘The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light; 23but if your eye is unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!A lot of public discourse breath, voice and noise is devoted to investments. Investments represent a blizzard of human activity every day. Invest in gold or precious metals, invest in a 401k or 403b, invest through a pension or whole/universal life insurance, invest in commodities, put your money in a CD, bonds, a money market account or a savings account. Invest in a start up company. Play the stock market, play the lottery--just DO SOMETHING with the money that you earn.
Matt Skinner writes about the powerful dialectical relationship between our hearts and our money. Sometimes we think of money as the means to an end. We invest in something with a combination of numbers and letters for something that we can have in the end. We might be saving for a college education, a car, a vacation, or a retirement where we can spend special time with our loved ones and families and possibly see more of the country and the world. We might use a credit card (its own combination of numbers and letters) to pay for groceries, gas for our cars, or splurge a little bit on a new plasma television or to do something basic for a home improvement. In this way we see money as the means to an end. Often times the money itself doesn't mean that much to us along the way. Money has no value in and of itself--it's only ink and paper. So--how are these investments in your life doing? Sometimes our investments do quite well--they provide basic needs like food, clothing and shelter. Sometimes the product of our investments provide understanding, learning, enjoyment and entertainment. Sometimes these investments break down. These investments can also clog our closets and garages--they need way more maintenance and money than we ever anticipated. Regardless of our level of scope with investments--what we see as common investments are volatile.
Jesus says that "where our treasure is, there our heart will be also." Jesus says something different about money/treasure. Where we place that money also has power in directing our hearts, our passions, our thoughts, our prayers, our energy. Our treasure is not only a means to an end, but it also can direct our hearts. If we invest in something, that recipient of that investment continues to draw our energy, passions, resources, thoughts and prayers.
Investing in the work of God through First Lutheran Community Church is an investment in people and relationships. The investments in the work of God in the ministries at FLCC reach people's lives. God's love and the power of the Holy Spirit bring peace, joy and help to people all over the world. Your giving to God's work at First Lutheran Church is building up treasures in heaven, because people know God in a real way through the work of the FLCC. I believe the stories of people just like you reveal something about the relationship between our treasure and our hearts of which Jesus speaks.
I hope you've begun to think about your giving to God's work through the ministries of FLCC. As you reflect on your own stories about how God has touched your life and your investments of time, talent and treasure: how are your investments doing? Which investments carry more meaning? Which investments are "treasures in heaven?"
Confirmation is an interesting subject in Lutheran congregations. For some it represents a rite of passage. For some it represents the last time a parent forces a kid to do anything in church. I believe Luther didn't like the concept of Confirmation because he believed that Baptism did not need to be "confirmed" by anything or anyone. Baptism and the relationship between God and us cannot be confirmed--it is already set (in water, blood and promises). There was a move about 40 years ago to change the language to "Affirmation of Baptism" that never really stuck, probably because parents want their children to endure some of the same religious torture that they experienced. Confirmation in practice is really about an investment report on the promises that were made on the behalf of (usually) a child before their memories were formed. Promises of God were articulated. Promises were made by parents, sponsors and the congregation to raise a child in the faith in and of Jesus Christ. In preparation for this rite of passage, I learn more about the faith of these kids who have received the promises of God. For most of their childhood, they have been taught what to believe. Part of preparing for this rite is that young people begin to take the Bible stories of the youth and the heritage of their faith, and begin to formulate their own thoughts about how they will live out the gift of faith that has been given to them. This is another example of investment in treasures in heaven.
How are your investments doing?
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Sermon prayers and thoughts: "What You Discover In The End"
This is my least favorite sermon title in my short time preaching at FLCC, but sometimes it's necessary to move forward. It's more important to focus on content than title, though it's not an excuse for a lame title. If I have to make a trade off, I will trade a title for good content.
Jeremiah 3: 15-18
As I am studying this text and the theologians with their comments on the text, I am drawn to the disposable nature of the Ark of the Covenant as an image for Israel's communal life. Verse 16 is specific: " And when you have multiplied and increased in the land, in those days, says the Lord, they shall no longer say, "The ark of the covenant of the Lord." It shall not come to mind, or be remembered, or missed; nor shall another one be made (NRSV)."
There is not much disposable in the life of the Church. At least in my experience. Churches are some of the worst pack rats I have ever witnessed. Churches don't end up becoming visible hoarders because they build bigger buildings, or they I have seen 70 year old bank statements in some churches. I have seen 40 year old confirmation cirricula, reel to reel tape recorders, piles of broken/unused Christmas lights, old prints of Jesus stacked in dusty storage closets, cheap old knives in a church kitchen that I get away with running across my jugular for vein, and books no one will ever read piled up in rarely-updated libraries. At some point, these images and tools carried great power--but now they are collecting dust and taking up real estate. People have this weird sense that anything and everything associated with the Church needs to be PERMANENT. I think this notion is a sick brew of Great Depression-thinking hyper frugality and an implicit application of Hebrews 13:8 "Jesus is the same yesterday, today, for ever." Does the application of this verse mean that 70 year old church bank statements need to be saved because they are somehow linked to the unchanging Jesus by osmosis?
Things I have learned from this text:
1. Some images/things in our Christian lives are enduring: the Cross, the Lutheran Confessions, Baptism, Holy Communion, etc. Everything else can pass away and be changed. Church newsletters are not sacred. Sermons on cassette tapes or VHS are not sacred. Luther League is not sacred. Even congregations themselves are not sacred in and of themselves. Nor is a denomination.
2. It is God who is with you in the transition, not the symbol, tool, mission statement or mechanism. It is God who guides us. We are human, we take up time and space, we cannot always deal in the abstract. We need tangible, we need focus in order to act. The Ark of the Covenant was disposable. What needs to be thrown away?
According to Von Rad, the end of the Ark in Jeremiah 3 reveals that there is little unity to Old Testament themes other than it's focus on Yahweh. Many images and theologies come and go, such as whether a monarchy is good or bad...the throne of God changes from the Ark to Jerusalem.
Upon further study of this text--I am going to resonate with one of the students at The Buzz the other night who said in response to the statements about "forgetting the ark" in Jeremiah that something is coming that is better. The journals I read talk about a new alliance between the Northern and Southern Kingdom: Israel and Judah with Jerusalem being the new throne of Yahweh.
Important points of a Sound Transition
1. Find honor for the stuff that is really important (it's not everything)
2. Celebrate where God has been with you, dream about where God will take you, remember God is with you on the twisting and bumpy road ahead.
3. Something new is at work
4. The power of God to gather in Word, Sacrament, relationships
Jeremiah 3: 15-18
As I am studying this text and the theologians with their comments on the text, I am drawn to the disposable nature of the Ark of the Covenant as an image for Israel's communal life. Verse 16 is specific: " And when you have multiplied and increased in the land, in those days, says the Lord, they shall no longer say, "The ark of the covenant of the Lord." It shall not come to mind, or be remembered, or missed; nor shall another one be made (NRSV)."
There is not much disposable in the life of the Church. At least in my experience. Churches are some of the worst pack rats I have ever witnessed. Churches don't end up becoming visible hoarders because they build bigger buildings, or they I have seen 70 year old bank statements in some churches. I have seen 40 year old confirmation cirricula, reel to reel tape recorders, piles of broken/unused Christmas lights, old prints of Jesus stacked in dusty storage closets, cheap old knives in a church kitchen that I get away with running across my jugular for vein, and books no one will ever read piled up in rarely-updated libraries. At some point, these images and tools carried great power--but now they are collecting dust and taking up real estate. People have this weird sense that anything and everything associated with the Church needs to be PERMANENT. I think this notion is a sick brew of Great Depression-thinking hyper frugality and an implicit application of Hebrews 13:8 "Jesus is the same yesterday, today, for ever." Does the application of this verse mean that 70 year old church bank statements need to be saved because they are somehow linked to the unchanging Jesus by osmosis?
Things I have learned from this text:
1. Some images/things in our Christian lives are enduring: the Cross, the Lutheran Confessions, Baptism, Holy Communion, etc. Everything else can pass away and be changed. Church newsletters are not sacred. Sermons on cassette tapes or VHS are not sacred. Luther League is not sacred. Even congregations themselves are not sacred in and of themselves. Nor is a denomination.
2. It is God who is with you in the transition, not the symbol, tool, mission statement or mechanism. It is God who guides us. We are human, we take up time and space, we cannot always deal in the abstract. We need tangible, we need focus in order to act. The Ark of the Covenant was disposable. What needs to be thrown away?
According to Von Rad, the end of the Ark in Jeremiah 3 reveals that there is little unity to Old Testament themes other than it's focus on Yahweh. Many images and theologies come and go, such as whether a monarchy is good or bad...the throne of God changes from the Ark to Jerusalem.
Upon further study of this text--I am going to resonate with one of the students at The Buzz the other night who said in response to the statements about "forgetting the ark" in Jeremiah that something is coming that is better. The journals I read talk about a new alliance between the Northern and Southern Kingdom: Israel and Judah with Jerusalem being the new throne of Yahweh.
Important points of a Sound Transition
1. Find honor for the stuff that is really important (it's not everything)
2. Celebrate where God has been with you, dream about where God will take you, remember God is with you on the twisting and bumpy road ahead.
3. Something new is at work
4. The power of God to gather in Word, Sacrament, relationships
Monday, September 14, 2009
Sermon prayers and thoughts: "We all need a place to keep our stuff"
I had a few requests Sunday to post my sermons on my blog or the church website. How to address this request challenges me because I don't create sermon manuscripts. However, I do write as a means to clarify my thoughts for a particular sermon, and those thoughts are filtered and become a sermon that you hear on Sunday. Some ideas do not make the sermon from my writing, other ideas are added after I'm completed my writing. Below you will find my writing done in preparation for the first sermon in the "Sound Transitions" sermon series: "We all need a place to keep our stuff." I hope you find this helpful--let me know how this works as a substitute for a manuscript.
*****************
Accumulation of stuff makes for a tired preaching theme, especially during a cycle of preaching on Luke that begins soon for all of the Revised Common Lectionary preachers out there. I have heard and preached several sermons either on the dangers of stuff or the unfaithful use of stuff--with the goal of existence is to store treasures in heaven, not on earth.
Blah, blah, blah...with a little bit of George Carlin's comedy bit on stuff in the back of my mind (beware of the vulgarity if you search for the piece).
I have multiple influences on how I look at stuff. My mother is known for her organization of stuff. My mother-in-law seems to be the opposite of a pack rat, she is well known for her ability to "pitch it" in the midst of cluttered situations. A good friend of mine used to share all kinds of quirky wisdom when we both lived in Wisconsin. He hated the idea of furniture, and preferred to sleep on a cold hard floor with a single blanket (the guy is a closet monk, I believe). He used to say that he didn't believe in the proverb "you can't take it with you." His interesting twist was "you HAVE to take it with you." This wisdom may be behind why he didn't want to own any furniture. If I have the choice of weekday morning television (I'm the lowest on the totem pole--my dear wife likes the Today Show, the girls like PBS Kids), I go for the TLC show Clean Sweep. One of the show's catch phrases is "zero to organized in 48 hours." Some may see the show's primary goal is organization, but I think it's more about a wiser approach to stuff.
During my naively altruistic late 20's I remember days of being anti-stuff, especially when I read Luke's Gospel. Talk about hypocrisy--here I was reading, thinking and praying anti-stuff, yet I was accumulating stuff at a scary rate, maybe not at the level of a shopping addict, pack rat, or a clinically-ill hoarder, but I was buying a lot of stuff. Plus I had all the preserved stuff of my youth. Again, not quite a pack rat with my kid stuff, but enough that I needed special sections in my living space and my parents' garage for my stuff. Supposedly, I have a few small piles of stuff still in their garage.
Peter Walsh on Clean Sweep (and Oprah) forces the people on the show to specifically define the importance of many pieces of stuff. Even the most scraggly piece of memorabilia can be saved from the trash, give, or sell piles on the show if they can define purpose and meaning in detail for a piece of stuff. I remember one man was attached to an old Cub Scout uniform that a wife wanted to get rid of. The man was able to tell Peter about it's purpose and meaning, and they found a way to honor that piece of memorabilia rather than pack it away in the bowels of a storage space.
Finding a place for your important stuff and giving it honor, so that you can look at it and be able to remind yourself and tell others about why it is important to you--and share stories around that piece.
With this idea of stuff in mind--I move on to my text for the week, from Deuteronomy 10, where God tells Moses to build an ark that will contain the stone tablets of the Ten Commandments. The Ark of the Covenant becomes a symbol of God going with Israel in the midst of their transition to the Promised Land, and what is important to carry with them in their travels. The Ark becomes a symbol of cohesiveness and guidance in the midst of the transition, but it also has a utilitarian function--we all need a place to keep our stuff. Even God. In his introduction to the OT prophet Haggai, Eugene Peterson gives a reminder that we are human beings who occupy time and space. Stuff is part of reality, and we need to learn how to be good stewards of the stuff. We take our stuff with us, so what we take and how we take it become important to us.
What will we honor? How will we carry it with us? How will what we carry inform us--guide us, influence us, burden us, free us? I have a few more days to ponder these questions as I prepare for the Sunday sermon...
Post Script: I think I'll be watching Raiders of the Lost Ark for a little perspective and maybe a movie clip? I texted my mother to see where the movie was at her house, and like the organized person that she is informed me of its location: "Up stairs bottom shelf west wall (sic)." Yep, that's my Mom.
Post-Script #2: OT scholars Walter Brueggemann and Gerhard Von Rad write about how the Ark reveals something about the fluidity of interpretation for Israel. The Ark ends up serving different purposes throughout its existence: As a symbol for liturgy (which Von Rad points out is somehow immune to the commandment on graven images), as a symbol for war, as a container for the Commandments; it also serves as a throne for Yahweh. Maybe this fluidity indicates that it's okay that the meaning of stuff and our relationship with stuff is not static.
*****************
Accumulation of stuff makes for a tired preaching theme, especially during a cycle of preaching on Luke that begins soon for all of the Revised Common Lectionary preachers out there. I have heard and preached several sermons either on the dangers of stuff or the unfaithful use of stuff--with the goal of existence is to store treasures in heaven, not on earth.
Blah, blah, blah...with a little bit of George Carlin's comedy bit on stuff in the back of my mind (beware of the vulgarity if you search for the piece).
I have multiple influences on how I look at stuff. My mother is known for her organization of stuff. My mother-in-law seems to be the opposite of a pack rat, she is well known for her ability to "pitch it" in the midst of cluttered situations. A good friend of mine used to share all kinds of quirky wisdom when we both lived in Wisconsin. He hated the idea of furniture, and preferred to sleep on a cold hard floor with a single blanket (the guy is a closet monk, I believe). He used to say that he didn't believe in the proverb "you can't take it with you." His interesting twist was "you HAVE to take it with you." This wisdom may be behind why he didn't want to own any furniture. If I have the choice of weekday morning television (I'm the lowest on the totem pole--my dear wife likes the Today Show, the girls like PBS Kids), I go for the TLC show Clean Sweep. One of the show's catch phrases is "zero to organized in 48 hours." Some may see the show's primary goal is organization, but I think it's more about a wiser approach to stuff.
During my naively altruistic late 20's I remember days of being anti-stuff, especially when I read Luke's Gospel. Talk about hypocrisy--here I was reading, thinking and praying anti-stuff, yet I was accumulating stuff at a scary rate, maybe not at the level of a shopping addict, pack rat, or a clinically-ill hoarder, but I was buying a lot of stuff. Plus I had all the preserved stuff of my youth. Again, not quite a pack rat with my kid stuff, but enough that I needed special sections in my living space and my parents' garage for my stuff. Supposedly, I have a few small piles of stuff still in their garage.
Peter Walsh on Clean Sweep (and Oprah) forces the people on the show to specifically define the importance of many pieces of stuff. Even the most scraggly piece of memorabilia can be saved from the trash, give, or sell piles on the show if they can define purpose and meaning in detail for a piece of stuff. I remember one man was attached to an old Cub Scout uniform that a wife wanted to get rid of. The man was able to tell Peter about it's purpose and meaning, and they found a way to honor that piece of memorabilia rather than pack it away in the bowels of a storage space.
Finding a place for your important stuff and giving it honor, so that you can look at it and be able to remind yourself and tell others about why it is important to you--and share stories around that piece.
With this idea of stuff in mind--I move on to my text for the week, from Deuteronomy 10, where God tells Moses to build an ark that will contain the stone tablets of the Ten Commandments. The Ark of the Covenant becomes a symbol of God going with Israel in the midst of their transition to the Promised Land, and what is important to carry with them in their travels. The Ark becomes a symbol of cohesiveness and guidance in the midst of the transition, but it also has a utilitarian function--we all need a place to keep our stuff. Even God. In his introduction to the OT prophet Haggai, Eugene Peterson gives a reminder that we are human beings who occupy time and space. Stuff is part of reality, and we need to learn how to be good stewards of the stuff. We take our stuff with us, so what we take and how we take it become important to us.
What will we honor? How will we carry it with us? How will what we carry inform us--guide us, influence us, burden us, free us? I have a few more days to ponder these questions as I prepare for the Sunday sermon...
Post Script: I think I'll be watching Raiders of the Lost Ark for a little perspective and maybe a movie clip? I texted my mother to see where the movie was at her house, and like the organized person that she is informed me of its location: "Up stairs bottom shelf west wall (sic)." Yep, that's my Mom.
Post-Script #2: OT scholars Walter Brueggemann and Gerhard Von Rad write about how the Ark reveals something about the fluidity of interpretation for Israel. The Ark ends up serving different purposes throughout its existence: As a symbol for liturgy (which Von Rad points out is somehow immune to the commandment on graven images), as a symbol for war, as a container for the Commandments; it also serves as a throne for Yahweh. Maybe this fluidity indicates that it's okay that the meaning of stuff and our relationship with stuff is not static.
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