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Camel Committee

2011-09-27T14:40:00.000-05:00

I know this was in the comment section. But I wanted to get it out front and think about the role and vision of committees.

Maybe camels are not so bad in a Christian committee. Need to remember to add God and prayers to the thoughts. Camels in a caravan kneel down in the evening and the camel-driver unloads their burdens. In the morning, the camels kneel down again, and the camel-driver put the burdens back on. It´s the same with prayer: we get on our knees to unload at night, and in the morning we get on our knees again. God gives us just the load we are able to carry that day

In Praise of Committees

2011-09-20T10:34:00.000-05:00

One of the benefits of serving a United Church is that I can tap into the wisdom of a somewhat different tradition. The following is from the E-News of the Iowa Conference United Church of Christ, by permission of the writer:

It has often been said that a camel is a horse designed by committee. Usually, this tired old saw is uttered in an attempt to disparage both camels and committees. But does it, really?

What it is it about the camel that makes it so obviously an inferior design? Given the environment in which it functions, the argument can be made that a camel is, in many ways, superior to a horse. It has large feet to make walking on sand less of an effort. It can go for days, if not weeks, without water. It can carry a heavy load over great distances. It is even claimed by some that a camel is faster than a horse, at least in the desert. Is it possible that the camel, and not the horse, is the superior design? If so, what does that say about the design skills of a committee? Could it possibly be that a committee design is in some very meaningful way a better design than one done by a single designer?

I was thinking about this just yesterday. It was the day of the Conference's annual get-together for pastors serving their first call in Iowa. There were about 20 pastors in the room, of varying ages and degrees of pastoral experience. There were licensed pastors and ordained pastors, seminary grads and diplomates of the Conference lay ministry program. There were young and old. It was a widely divergent group, everyone with different strengths and different weaknesses. As the day wore on, however, some common characteristics became apparent, characteristics like genuine love for pastoral ministry, enthusiasm, realism, commitment to the well-being of their congregations. And, more than anything else, a core of competence. This was a really good group of people, anyone of which I would be proud to call colleague.

And yet, each one of them was chosen by a committee! Not a single one of these men and women was there because some individual had the power and authority to say to one "You go to that church" and to another "You go to that other church." All of them were serving their congregations because some group, some committee, of caring, concerned and faithful members of those congregations, guided by the Holy Spirit, did the hard, tedious and often thankless work of sifting through dozens and dozens of profiles, checking references, conducting interviews and trying to separate wheat from chaff. And I, for one, was impressed by the results of the hundreds of hours of work those committees devoted to the wellbeing of their churches.

Maybe the camel is a horse designed by a committee, but when the nearest oasis is a couple of hundred miles away, having a camel to ride is a pretty comforting thought.

Tony Stoik

Associate Conference Minister/Western Iowa

Iowa Conference

The Lord's Prayer

2011-09-01T10:21:00.003-05:00

I try to pay attention to the thoughts that pop into my head while I'm praying, and here's one I thought worth sharing: as I was praying the Lord's Prayer this morning, I realized that, given the number of Christians there are on the planet, and given how universal the Lord's Prayer is, the odds are that someone else, somewhere, was praying that prayer (thought probably in a language other than English) at the exact moment that I was. Private prayer is normally just that, you and God, and Jesus encouraged that: "But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you." (Matthew 6:6) But I realized this morning that private prayer is not completely personal, that at any given moment my prayers are joined with the prayers of thousands of others all over the world--and I find that thought exciting.

Pass It On

2010-10-11T10:45:00.001-05:00

Here's something worth pondering, from UCC Iowa Conference Minister for Youth Nicole Havelka (reprinted by permission):

http://www.youthministrycommotion.blogspot.com/

Talking to Statues

2010-09-29T12:47:00.003-05:00

I was in Clarkson Hospital in Omaha yesterday when I noticed a man apparently having a very animated conversation with a bronze statue of Thomas Jefferson. The man was sitting across from Jefferson, talking clearly and gesturing freely. Jefferson, as is his wont, was listening intently, even though he was in the act of writing the Declaration of Independence. As I got closer, I realized that of course the man was talking on his cell phone, using his head set, and, like many of us, gesturing even though his conversation partner couldn’t see his gestures.

I guess I wouldn’t have blamed the man if he had been talking to Jefferson; the statue (in bronze) is very lifelike. Jefferson is seated, in his shirtsleeves, a large writing board propped on his lap, with a quill pen in his hand. On the board is a piece of parchment with the opening words of the Declaration of Independence already written. But Jefferson isn’t looking at his paper. He’s looking straight ahead, as though pondering what the next words will be in this seminal document of American history, indeed, of world history. It will be important to get it right.

The statue has the effect of humanizing this larger-than-life figure, of making me feel a certain kinship to him. How many times have I turned away from my manuscript or my keyboard and looked at nothing in particular, trying to decide where to go next in what I was writing. The late Charles Schultz of “Peanuts” fame once said that getting the idea for a comic strip was much more difficult than the actual drawing and lettering of the strip. He added, “It’s hard to convince people that when you’re sitting and staring out of the window you’re doing the hardest work of the day.”

But as I thought about the humanized Jefferson I was looking at my thoughts went back to the man who seemed to have been having a conversation with him. Aren’t we all having a conversation with the people who have gone before us? As Americans, we converse with Thomas Jefferson, John and Abigail Adams, Abraham Lincoln and Sojourner Truth; as Christians we are in dialogue with Augustine and Anselm, Knox and Calvin, Theresa of Avila and Mother Theresa. We listen to what they have to say, and we respond, sometimes in agreement, sometimes in challenge. G.K. Chesteron, one of my conversation partners, once wrote that tradition is simply a way of giving dead people a vote.

When I was in the Reformation Museum in Geneva a few years ago, I saw a life-sized statue of the reformer John Calvin. Calvin, too, is seated, but instead of pondering his next words, he is caught in the act of expounding Scripture. The Bible is open on his lap; with his right hand he is marking the passage he is talking about; his left hand is raised, thrust forward, the index finger up to make a point. The statue, it seems to me, captures one aspect of Calvin, but not everything, any more than the statue of Thomas Jeffereson captured everything about Jefferson. What this statue captures is Calvin’s energy, his commitment, his total captivation by the Word. We may not want to follow Calvin in everything, but here’s one place where he becomes a first-class conversation partner.

If you ever see me talking to a statue of Calvin, you’ll know why.

The Alban Institute

2010-09-17T11:12:00.000-05:00

This is an excellent seminar if you can afford it. Highly recommended for those who have been their current pastorates more than about 8 years and plan to stay a long time.

The Alban Institute

Killing a Dead Man

2010-09-14T15:36:00.002-05:00

Word got out among the Jews that [Jesus] was back in town. The people came to take a look, not only at Jesus but also at Lazarus, who had been raised from the dead. So the high priests plotted to kill Lazarus because so many of the Jews were going over and believing in Jesus on account of him. - John 12:9-11, The Message

They are just a few verses, easy to miss in the transition from Mary anointing Jesus’ feet and the Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem, but they struck me when I read them this morning. The high priests want to kill a dead man!

Lazarus, of course, was the brother of Mary and Martha, and we read the dramatic story of his resurrection in the 11th Chapter of John. He died, and Jesus restored him to life. I admit that sometimes I wonder what kind of life he had after that, but John isn’t interested in telling us, except for this: by being raised from the dead, he became a marked man.

Well, I don’t know how Lazarus reacted to that threat on his life, but I suspect with laughter. He’s already passed through the most extreme experience life has to offer. He has already died. What more can they do to him?

On one hand, it shows the futility of the opposition to Jesus. First, they’ll get rid of Jesus. Then, they’ll get rid of the man Jesus raised from the dead. Where do they go from there? Get rid of everyone who saw Jesus raise him from the dead? Get rid of everyone who heard about Jesus raising him from the dead? The reaction of the Pharisees at the Triumphal Entrance is more realistic: “You see, you can do nothing. Look, the world has gone after him!” (John 12:19)

The Church is kind of like Lazarus: still alive, in spite of all the forces that would like to see it dead and buried. In fact, you could say that the Church has already died and been raised from the dead. What else is there that anyone can do to us? “When you were buried with him in baptism, you were also raised with him through faith in the power of God, who raised him from the dead.” (Colossians 2:12) Every attempt to kill the Church, through persecution, harassment, or neglect, is only killing a dead man. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

Knowing that should give us a new lease on life, so to speak.

United Church of Christ: Email - August 29: Love endures

2010-08-29T08:43:00.000-05:00

I thought this was good, from the United Church of Christ's "Stillspeaking" daily devotion:

United Church of Christ: Email - August 29: Love endures

Remembering Connie

2010-08-17T15:55:00.000-05:00

I see it’s been a long time since I posted anything to this Blog. I was away on vacation for two weeks, then at Synod School, where I chose not to take my computer so I could focus on worship, the main presentations, and the classes I was taking. I came home with a fever and cough that set me back for a few days, then Kathy’s mother died August 11 after a long battle with cancer.

Connie was first diagnosed a little over two years ago, and we all went through the stages of shock, cautious hopefulness, waiting and watching. There were more and more trips to Tarkio, Missouri to help arrange things, more phone calls to keep abreast of the latest developments, and finally the word we had all been dreading: there’s nothing more that can be done medically. We enlisted the help of the local Hospice and began the really long wait as Connie’s condition slowly deteriorated. She went from sleeping in a recliner to a hospital bed in the living room to a room at the local care center, which was where she died, peacefully, early on a Wednesday morning.

Nearly all her family was able to gather for the funeral. There are three ordained ministers in the family, counting me, and we all had a part in the service, as did Kathy and her brother Paul. Kathy’s brother Jeff preached on the resurrection and got through with only one pause to compose himself, which was more than I would have been able to do. Some folk from our congregation here came down for the service, which was a great comfort and support for both of us. I had to leave shortly after the funeral lunch to get back to Westside for a wedding, but I was able to come back to Tarkio Sunday to spend some more time with our kids before they headed home on Monday.

As pastors, we get to spend a lot more time with dying people and their families than almost anyone else. In some ways it prepares you for the time when the dying person will be a loved one, but in other ways it doesn’t. We grieve for those with whom we minister and serve, but it’s not like the grief we feel when we lose a family member. I grieve for Connie but even more, I think, I grieve for Kathy’s grief, and for the grief of my father-in-law, my brothers-in-law and their families, and my children. For a time it becomes the dominant thing in your life, the sun around which all the planets orbit.

We do not grieve, Paul says, as those who have no hope. (1 Thessalonians 4:13) The mood Friday and Saturday was somber, but joyful, if I can put it that way. We know that for Connie, this is not the end, but the beginning. Thanks be to God.

Op-Ed Contributor - Congregations Gone Wild - NYTimes.com

2010-08-09T20:18:00.001-05:00

Haven't posted here for a month, I see, due to a variety of circumstances--vacation, Synod School, illness--so am easing back in with a link to a New York Times Op-Ed piece by a UCC pastor. Would be interested in your comments: Op-Ed Contributor - Congregations Gone Wild - NYTimes.com

From My Daily Reading

2010-07-08T10:07:00.003-05:00

Lately I've been reading in The Message, Eugene Peterson's paraphrase of the Bible. Today I ran across this, Peterson's take on Romans 9:30-33, emphases in the original:

How can we sum this up? All those people who didn’t seem interested in what God was doing actually embraced what God was doing as he straightened out their lives. And Israel, who seemed so interested in reading and talking about what God was doing, missed it. How could them miss it? Because instead of trusting God, they took over. They were absorbed in what they themselves were doing. They were so absorbed in their “God projects” that they didn’t notice God right in front of them, like a huge rock in the middle of the road. And so they stumbled into him and went sprawling. Isaiah (again!) gives us the metaphor for pulling this together:
Careful! I’ve put a huge stone on the road to Mount Zion,
a stone you can’t get around.
But the stone is me! If you’re looking for me,
you’ll find me on the way, not in the way.

Vacation

2010-07-07T17:05:00.001-05:00

I will be on vacation July 12-25 and at Synod School July 25-31. I may or may not post during Synod School.

Nouwen: More on the Elder Brother

2010-07-07T17:04:00.001-05:00

Here I see how lost the elder son is. He has become a foreigner in his own home. True communion is gone. Every relationship is pervaded by the darkness. To be afraid or to show disdain, to suffer submission or to enforce control, to be an oppressor or to be a victim: these have become the choices for one outside of the light. Sins cannot be confessed, forgiveness cannot be received, the mutuality of love cannot exist. True communication has become impossible.

I know the pain of this predicament. In it, everything loses its spontaneity. Everything becomes suspect, self-conscious, calculated, and full of second-guessing. There is no longer any trust. Each little move calls for a countermove; each little remark begs for analysis; the smallest gesture has to be evaluated. This is the pathology of darkness.

Is there a way out? I don’t think there is—at least not on my side. It often seems that the more I try to disentangle myself from the darkness, the darker it becomes. I need light, but that light has to conquer my darkness, and that I cannot bring about myself. I cannot forgive myself. I cannot make myself feel loved. By myself I cannot leave the land of my anger. I cannot bring myself home nor can I create communion on my own. I can desire it, hope for it, wait for it, yes, pray for it. But my true freedom I cannot fabricate for myself. That must be given to me. I am lost. I must be found and brought home by the shepherd who goes out to me. - Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son, p.82

The Case Against Marriage

2010-06-29T15:31:00.001-05:00

Here's something to think about, from the June 21 issue of Newsweek:

Comments, anyone?

Weeds

2010-06-28T17:32:00.001-05:00

I was out last week pulling weeds in the flowerbed under the tree and got to thinking, not for the first time, about how the Church can be more like a weed than a flower or a fruit tree.

Every time I try to get rid of the weeds I marvel at how resilient they are. Most of the time you don’t really pull them out by the roots; you break them off, and they’ll just happily regrow. They not only survive but thrive in conditions that would kill any plant you really want to grow. Can you imagine trying to get a tomato plant to grow out of a crack in the sidewalk? Yet I’ve seen crabgrass flourishing on a cement surface hot enough to fry an egg. The deadliest herbicide known, which is most familiar under the trade name Roundup, is supposed to leave any area where it’s sprayed totally devoid of plant life. But I’ve gone over an area with this nuclear option, watched the weeds wither and die, only to notice them coming back a few days or weeks later. Did some survive the onslaught? Did new seeds blow in? It really doesn’t matter, because the weeds won. They always do.

Well, the Church is like that in a lot of ways: not always pretty, but tough and resilient, popping up again and again in places where it was supposed to be dead or dying, reseeding itself in places where it was supposed to be stamped out, growing in places you would swear couldn’t support life. You can pull it up, root it out, spray it with Roundup and pave over it, but it will always come back. The gates of Hell haven’t got a chance. (Matthew 16:18)

I first met Avon Murray when I went to the first church I served as a pastor. Avon was about 90 at the time and had attended an agricultural college for a couple of years after graduating from high school, which was an unusual thing for farm boys from Missouri in the early part of the 20th century. He told me that on the first day of class he learned the definition a weed: a weed, he was told, is “a plant out of place.” Every gardener, every farmer, can testify to the appropriateness of that definition. If you plant corn and it comes up, that’s good. If you plant soybeans and corn sprouts up because some seed stayed in the ground over the winter, that's bad. That corn just became a weed, like the volunteer tomatoes in my pea patch.

Sometimes the Church, too, is “out of place,” not accidentally, but by design. When we challenge conventional wisdom, when we speak out against injustice, when we witness to the good news of Jesus in a world of fear and unbelief, we are often told to get back in our proper place. And it’s tempting to do just that. That’s when we need to remember that we don’t get to pick the place where we are supposed to grow. That’s up to God. We may find ourselves planted, as the Church so often has over the millennia, in a pretty inhospitable place. If so, that may well be where we need to be. Remember that plants produce fruit, but they also, over time, break down rocks. And that may be what we’re called to do, too.

Nouwen: the Underside of Virtue

2010-06-28T10:30:00.001-05:00

The more I reflect on the elder son in me, the more I realize how deeply rooted this form of lostness really is and how hard it is to return home from there. Returning home from a lustful escapade seems so much easier than returning home from a cold anger that has rooted itself in the deepest corners of my being. My resentment is not something that can be easily distinguished and dealt with rationally.
It is far more pernicious: something that has attached itself to the underside of my virtue. - Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son, p.75, my emphasis

Spiritual Letdowns

2010-06-22T16:13:00.002-05:00

Reading over the story of Elijah's encounter with the “still, small voice” of God in 1 Kings 19, I was struck, as I almost always am, by how this episode comes immediately after what most people would consider Elijah’s greatest triumph.

According to 1 Kings 18, the kingdom is in the third year of a God-ordained drought, a drought meant to bring the people to their senses and leave off the worship of Baal. Baal-worship, you may remember, had been introduced by King Ahab and his wife Jezebel. Apparently now the time is ripe for a direct confrontation between Elijah, the one prophet of Israel’s God, and the 450 prophets of Baal.

This is a vivid, memorable story: the construction of the two altars, the preparation of the two sacrifices, the prophets of Baal “limping” around the altar (1 Kings 18:26, NRSV), crying out to their god, cutting themselves “as was their custom” and being mocked by Elijah: “Cry aloud! Surely he is a god; either he is meditating, or he has wandered away, or he is on a journey, or perhaps he is asleep and must be awakened.” (1 Kings 18:27 NRS) The writer concludes, “Midday passed, and they ranted on until the time when the offering is presented; but there was no voice, no answer, no sign of attention.” (1 Kings 18:29 NJB)

You remember the rest: unlike the unresponsive Baal, the Lord answered with fire that burned up not only the offering, but the very stones of the altar. This was followed by a bloodbath as the people seized the Baal-prophets at Elijah’s instigation and slaughtered them to a man. Then Elijah prayed, and the rains came (1 Kings 18:41ff., a passage cited by James 5:17-18 to illustrate the power of prayer).

Elijah should have been on top of the world. He had demonstrated decisively who was the true God in Israel, and had established himself as God’s prophet. But when Jezebel sent word that she was planning to have him killed for his part in the challenge to the state religion, Elijah went into a funk. He ran off to the desert and hid in a cave. When God challenged him, he whined, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” (1 Kings 19:10 NRS)

I don’t know about you, but that’s been true to my experience, though on a much smaller scale. I’ve been part of something really good in the church—a baptism, a Confirmation Class, a special service of some kind—and felt blessed and lifted up by it. Then I come down to earth and start feeling sorry for myself, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because, like Elijah, I expect God’s voice to come out of the wind, earthquake, and fire, and I’m disappointed that it’s only “a sound of sheer silence.” (1 Kings 19:12, NRSV) But that's often the way God chooses to speak to me, and who am I to tell God how to communicate?

The other thing about the story, of course, is that Elijah thinks he’s all alone, the last man standing, the only faithful follower in Israel. No, says God; I have chosen a king to succeed Ahab, I have chosen a prophet to succeed you, and I have seven thousand faithful people. Not many, in terms of the whole population, but enough. God is still at work, whether we know it or not. And that’s the good news.

Nouwen on the Elder Brother

2010-06-18T14:56:00.002-05:00

The obedient and dutiful life of which I am proud or for which I am praised feels, sometimes, like a burden that was laid on my shoulders and continues to oppress me, even when I have accepted it to such a degree that I cannot throw it off. I have no difficulty identifying with the elder son of the parable who complained, “All these years I have slaved for you and never once disobeyed any orders of yours, yet you never offered me so much as a kid for me to celebrate with my friends.” In this complaint, obedience and duty have become a burden, and service has become slavery. - Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son, p.70

Prayer for the Day

2010-06-16T12:06:00.001-05:00

Found this today in the Book of Common Worship for the Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time:

Teach us, good Lord,
to serve you as you deserve;
to give and not to count the cost;
to fight and not to heed the wounds;
to toil and not to seek for rest;
to labor and not to ask for any reward,
save that of knowing that we do your will;
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

As the Years Go By...

2010-06-15T15:57:00.001-05:00

I always assumed it would get easier. I would gain a better understanding of the Gospel, of the Church, of myself and of other people. I would gain skills that would smooth out the rough spots of ministry. I would learn not to take defeats and setbacks personally. I would not need to rely as much on other people’s affirmation because I would have learned to rely more on God.

In fact, it’s gotten harder.

Partly it’s because the Church I was trained to serve no longer exists. Partly it’s because there are issues in society that weren’t there when I began. But mostly it’s because I find myself going deeper all the time, so I shouldn’t be surprised that it doesn’t get easier.

Yes, I’ve gained skills that make me a better pastor than I was 30 years ago. For example, I’ve become more empathetic. But empathy is hard work. It’s pretty easy to pop into a hospital room, say something encouraging, offer a prayer, and leave. When you begin to put yourself in the place of a suffering person, you can’t do that. It gets harder.

And it’s gotten harder because I’m not so cocksure about some things as I once was. I have to think more, listen more, take more time to make up my mind. Even preaching has gotten harder because, though I know the Bible a lot better than I did 30 years ago I’m less satisfied with cliches and easy answers.

I always assumed it would get easier. Thank God it hasn’t.

Turning Off the Sermon Switch

2010-06-02T11:43:00.000-05:00

C.H. Spurgeon, the Victorian-era “Prince of the Pulpit,” writes in his little book of advice for preachers, Lectures to My Students, of the need of being “sermon-minded.” You ought always to be on the lookout for ideas, he writes, no matter what you are doing, whether reading, conversing, working in your garden or taking a walk. Nearly everything you see and do is potential fodder for a sermon, and since you are preaching perhaps 150 times in a single year (remember that in Spurgeon’s day preachers typically had two services on Sunday and one midweek), you will need a lot of fodder.

Generally, that’s good advice, and today we would add watching television, going to movies, and surfing the internet to Spurgeon’s list of activities. Anyone who preaches on a regular basis can tell you that they get ideas for themes and illustrations from all those sources.

The only trouble is that it makes it hard to just read, just watch television, just see a movie. The things I do to take a break from work too often feed back into work. Saturday, with everything done for Sunday, I was watering the plants in front of the house when I found myself reflecting, not for the first time, on how efficiently plants channel water from the leaves to the roots. It occurred to me that that particular insight would fit into my sermon for Sunday, and I was back at work again. Having those ideas in the middle of a movie is even worse. Yes, some of those ideas are great, but what happened to recreation and relaxation? Is there any way to turn off the sermon switch?

Maybe, just as I need to discipline myself to work, so I need to discipline myself not to work, to push those really great ideas aside when I am supposed to be talking my Sabbath rest, believing that the idea will still be there on Monday morning, or when I get back from vacation.

Speaking of vacation, I will be gone next week. Please pray for me that I don’t think about work until June 14.

Nouwen on Forgiveness

2010-05-26T14:30:00.000-05:00

One of the greatest challenges of the spiritual life is to receive God’s forgiveness. There is something in us humans that keeps us clinging to our sins and prevents us from letting God erase our past and offer us a completely new beginning. Sometimes it even seems as though I want to prove to God that my darkness is too great to overcome. While God wants to restore me to the full dignity of sonship, I keep insisting that I will settle for being a hired servant. But do I truly want to be restored to the full responsibility of the son? Do I truly want to be so totally forgiven that a completely new way of living becomes possible? Do I trust myself and such a radical reclamation? Do I want to break away from my deep-rooted rebellion against God and surrender myself so absolutely to God’s love that a new person can emerge? Receiving forgiveness requires a total willingness to let God be God and do all the healing, restoring, and renewing. As long as I want to do even part of that myself, I end up with partial solutions, such as becoming a hired servant. As a hired servant, I can still keep my distance, still revolt, reject, strike, run away, or complain about my pay. As the beloved son, I have to claim my full dignity and begin preparing myself to become the father. - Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son, p.53, my emphasis

Overworked and Underutilized

2010-05-24T15:31:00.001-05:00

I’m feeling a bit overworked these days, and I wonder how much of it I’m bringing on myself. Just the other day I had the passage in my daily reading about how Moses’ father-in-law, Jethro, convinced Moses that his style of administration was all wrong because he was trying to do everything, acting “as judge for the people, while the people stood around him from morning until evening.” (Exodus 18:13) Jethro’s words to Moses are a model of brevity: “What you are doing is not good. You will surely wear yourself out, both you and these people with you. For the task is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone.” (Exodus 18:17-18 NRS) We pastors and CLP’s (and committee chairs, for that matter) should probably have this engraved and put someplace where we can see it every day. When we try to do everything ourselves, we not only wear ourselves out, we wear everybody else out, too.

Jethro’s advice to Moses could come out of a 21st-century administrative manual:

You should...look for able men among all the people, men who fear God, are trustworthy, and hate dishonest gain; set such men over them as officers over thousands, hundreds, fifties and tens. Let them sit as judges for the people at all times; let them bring every important case to you, but decide every minor case themselves. So it will be easier for you, and they will bear the burden with you. If you do this, and God so commands you, then you will be able to endure, and all these people will go to their home in peace. (Exodus 18:21-23 NRS)

This principle, of course, is foundational to the Presbyterian system of Ruling Elders and Teaching Elders, of the divisions of authority and responsibility between pastor and Session, but how often have we seen a kind of “responsibility creep” taking place, especially when we have served a church for several years. Some pastors, of course, covet that control and do their best to make it happen, but for many of us it sneaks up on us without our being aware of it at the time.

So from time to time I need to step back, hard as that is, and take a look at everything I’m doing. How much of this is stuff that someone else really should be doing? Recall how the apostles handled the Great Potluck Controversy, the first thing that threatened to split the Church before it really got started:

In those days when the number of disciples was increasing, the Hellenistic Jews among them complained against the Hebraic Jews because their widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution of food. So the Twelve gathered all the disciples together and said, “It would not be right for us to neglect the ministry of the word of God in order to wait on tables. Brothers and sisters, choose seven men from among you who are known to be full of the Spirit and wisdom. We will turn this responsibility over to them and will give our attention to prayer and the ministry of the word.” (Acts 6:1-4 TNIV)

I don’t think the apostles were saying, “we’re too important to bother ourselves with trivial stuff like feeding people.” I think they recognized that they were called to do one thing, and that if they did everything, two things would happen: one is that nothing would get done very well, and the other is that other people in the fellowship would never get a chance to live out their own calls. Look what happened after the seven men were chosen: “The word of God spread. The number of disciples in Jerusalem increased rapidly, and a large number of priests became obedient to the faith.” (Acts 6:7 TNIV)

Well, now that I’ve written that, it’s time for me to take my own advice. I’ll let you know what I find out.

The Call

2010-05-17T11:14:00.000-05:00

This being Confirmation season—the last class is Wednesday and the Confirmation service will be this Sunday, Pentecost—I have been wondering if any of the Confirmands may be called to the Ministry of Word and Sacrament. This, after all, is the time in their lives when they may begin to feel that nudge of God’s Spirit, probably not knowing what it is at the time.

I admit to being pulled in two directions on this. On the one hand, I get excited by the possibility that one of “my” kids will join me in this exciting, discouraging, exhilarating, frustrating, rewarding calling. On the other hand, I believe that there are many callings, and that the call to be a MWS is no higher than any other call. As the Apostle Paul says, “if all were preachers, who would fix the plumbing?”--or something like that. After all, when my care needs work, I don’t call a fellow pastor, I call a mechanic. I believe that he or she may be called to be a mechanic just as much as I am called to preach and administer the Sacraments. One of the bones I have to pick with Rick Warren is that he says in The Purpose-Drive Life that it doesn’t matter what you do for a living as long as it gives you the opportunity to witness to your faith. That, it seems to me, is not a Reformed understanding of vocation.

Having said that, I still get excited by the prospect of someone whose faith I have had a hand in nurturing decides to pursue a call as Minister of Word and Sacrament. Part of the reason may be that it recalls my own call and my own vocation, and in that I suspect that I am like a teacher whose student decides to go for an education degree. But there may be another reason. Knowing that young people still feel called to serve this amalgamation we call the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) may be a sign that God has a future for us, whatever that future may be, and that gives me hope.

Yes, I do think I see a future minister in my current Confirmation Class, but I’m not saying who just yet. I just hope, when they do decide, I’m still around to say, “I knew it all along.”

The Story of Your Life

2010-05-14T10:05:00.001-05:00

The World is Full of Stories
A Baccalaureate Sermon for the Ar-We-Va High School Class of 2010
Genesis 1:1-2:2
Revelation 5:1-14
John 3:1-17

The world is full of stories.

There are jokes, novels, fairy tales, epic poems, parables, histories, biographies and a dozen other kinds of story I can’t think of right now.

There's your story.

And there's my story.

Donald Miller says that the most important thing we can do with your life is to make a good story out of it. But most of us don’t pay any attention to the story our lives are telling. Donald Miller says that he began to think about his life as story when he was contacted by a producer who wanted to make his book, Blue Like Jazz, into a movie. Since the book was based on his own life, he had some pretty strong ideas about how it should go. But the producer and the screenwriter convinced him that if they just filmed his life the way it happened, it would be—well, dull. Steve, the producer, put it to him this way:

“While you’ve written a good book, thoughts don’t translate onto the screen very well. The audience can’t get inside your head like they can in a book. They will be restless. They won’t engage. Trying to be true to the book is like asking people to read your mind. A story has to move in real life and real time. It’s all about action.”

“You think they might be bored if we just show my life the way it is,” I clarified. I guess I was asking for reassurance that my life was okay.

“I think they’d stab each other in the necks with drinking straws,” Steve said. “Nothing against your book. It’s a fine book,” he added after I’d sat silent for a moment.

I imagined people stabbing each other with straws.

“You in?” Steve asked.

“With their drinking straws?” I asked.

“Crazy, right? We can’t let that happen...”

I thought about it for a moment. I thought about artistic integrity. I was going to tell him I needed a couple weeks to consider the idea, but then he said how much he’d pay me, so I told him I’d do it. (Donald Miller, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, p.20)

In the process of writing the screenplay, Miller realized two things. One, that his life was boring, and two, that he had the chance to edit his life. In movies, editing involves taking the thousands of feet of film and cutting it and fitting it together so the story flows, makes sense, moves along, and doesn’t inspire people to stab each other in the neck with their drinking straws.

Of course our stories as we live them out are a lot messier than any movie. Things happen to us that we don’t choose and can’t foresee. We are given and denied opportunities; we make some good and bad choices that have consequences that we have to live with; we have a set of gifts and limitations that we can’t do much about. But that doesn’t mean we are stuck with what we’ve got.

The world is full of stories; there’s your story, and there’s my story, and over all our stories there is God’s story, which is a lot more exciting than the most exciting human story.

God’s story begins before the beginning, but our story begins in the beginning, as we heard from our first Scripture reading. It begins with God creating the heavens and the earth, and ends with God saying, “It’s all good.”

So what happened? There’s a lot that’s good—sunrises, sunsets, music, art, mathematics, Ben and Jerry’s ice cream—but there’s also a lot that’s bad—earthquakes, famines, cancer, heart disease, American Idol—and that can make us wonder if the story we’re living in is really going to have any kind of happy ending.

Our gospel reading tells a story, a small part of the story of Jesus. This story has two main characters: Jesus, whom we know a lot about, and Nicodemus, about whom we know almost nothing. He was, John says, a Pharisee and a leader of the Jews, and later Jesus calls him “a teacher of Israel,” so we know he was a pretty smart guy and important in his way. But let’s face it, we probably never would have heard of him if he hadn’t come to Jesus that night.

What Jesus says to Nicodemus shakes him up and causes him to question his own story. “You have to be born again,” Jesus says, and Nicodemus says, “How can a grown man be born again?” That’s not the way it works. You get one chance. You’re born, you grow up, you get old, you die. The arrow only goes in one direction. But what Jesus says is that God is offering you a chance to start over. In fact, he says, it’s not an option: “no one can see the Kingdom of God without being born again.” Unlike some modern preachers, Jesus is not real specific about how this being born again business works. In fact, he says, it’s a mysterious thing, involving the Holy Spirit, which is like the wind: you can hear it and feel it but you can’t see it. You understand the wind by its results, and Jesus says it’s that way with the Spirit, too. You can’t see the Spirit, but you can experience the Spirit’s presence in your life and you can see the Spirit’s work in the lives of other people.

See, God loves the world. He’s disappointed in it a lot of the time, but he loves it. He made it and he plans to redeem it. And what he wants from you is for you to be part of the story he’s telling, and that story is anything but boring.

This Story is of a God who made the universe and everything in it. He did this for love, because he wanted to share love with other beings. The beings he created, human beings, turned away from his love and threatened to spoil his creation. But this God was not so easily defeated. Out of all the people of the earth, he called one man and one woman, Abraham and Sarah, and made them a People, a Nation with whom he shared his vision for the whole human race. This nation came to be called Israel. They, too, turned away from his love and threatened to spoil his vision. But this God was not so easily defeated. At the right time, he sent his Son to bring human beings back to himself. The only way the Son could do this was to die, but he was willing to do even that if it would save the people God had made. And now there is a new people in the world, a people who follow the Son of God. They, too, are always turning away from God's love and threatening God's purpose. He continues to forgive and nurture and challenge his people, because he plans someday to make a new heaven and a new earth for them, and he wants them to be ready. In the meantime he wants his new people to act like that new heaven and new earth is already here, and show the kind of love that he has shown them from the very beginning.

That's The Story.

You're part of it, and so am I. Find your place in the story, and, whatever you do, don’t make it boring. Donald Miller changed his life. He tracked down the father he hadn’t seen since he was a child, he joined a cross-country bike ride to raise money for charity, he started a program called The Mentoring Project that matches up fatherless boys with men who will support and nurture them. And he keeps writing books like A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.

You may never ride a bicycle across country or start a nationwide program to help other people or write a book. But you have gifts that no one else has, experiences that no one else is having, dreams that only you can dream. God has given you those gifts and those dreams so that you can make use of those experiences. You can only do it when you’re part of God’s story. Go in peace, live your story, and your story will touch the world in ways you can’t imagine.

Fairly Good Ministry

2010-05-10T12:45:00.000-05:00

The late Charles Schultz, creator of “Peanuts” with its immortal cast of misfit characters, once described cartooning as a “fairly” sort of business. He went on to say that if you were a great writer, you would write novels, essays, short stories; if you were a great artist you’d paint or draw or sculpt; if you were a great comedian you’d do standup or make funny movies. A cartoonist has to be able to do all those things, not spectacularly well but fairly well: write fairly well, draw fairly well, and be fairly funny.

Pastoral ministry as most of us practice it is like that. If you were a brilliant scholar you’d teach in a seminary and write books; if you were a brilliant counselor you’d be in a teaching hospital or private practice; if you were a brilliant speaker you’d be on television. As it is, you need to be a fairly good scholar, a fairly good counselor, and a fairly good speaker, and at the same time be a fairly good teacher, administrator, and visionary. Sometimes we think, as Ernie Campbell once said, that if we could shut ourselves up during the week and spend all our time working on our sermons we could be really brilliant preachers, but it doesn’t work that way. We learn to preach not only by studying and crafting our messages but also by getting to know the people we are preaching to. (You will note that unlike some people I have no qualms about using a preposition to end a sentence with) Tom Long says that the best preaching takes place in small to mid-sized churches and is done by preachers who have lived with the congregation for a fair amount of time. Having been in Presbyteries with large congregations and having been preached to (or at) by preachers who served churches of all different sizes, I have to agree. Generally speaking it was the pastors of the small churches whose sermons were most likely to hit home.

So you’re not Walter Brueggemann or Howard Clinebell or Barbara Brown Taylor. You are who you are, called to do what you are called to do, maybe not brilliant at any one thing but fairly good at many things—and most of the time that’s just what the church needs.

Henri Nouwen on Vocation

2010-05-06T09:54:00.001-05:00

Found this in my reading this morning:

I know now that I have to speak from eternity into time, from the lasting joy into the passing realities of our short existence in this world, from the house of love into the houses of fear, from God’s abode into the dwellings of human beings. I am well aware of the enormity of this vocation. Still, I am confident that it is the only way for me. One could call it the “prophetic” vision: looking at people and this world through the eyes of God.

Is this a realistic possibility for a human being? More important: Is it a true option for me? This is not an intellectual question. It is a question of vocation. I am called to enter into the inner sanctuary of my own being where God has chosen to dwell. The only way to that place is prayer, unceasing prayer. Many struggles and much pain can clear the way, but I am certain that only unceasing prayer can let me enter it. - Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son, pp.17-18

Following the Psalter

2010-04-13T15:33:00.002-05:00

In addition to reading the Daily Lectionary readings most days, I also work my way through the Psalter on a monthly basis, using a system I found in the Book of Common Prayer of the Episcopal Church. I think the idea of doing that was first suggested to me by Eugene Peterson in Answering God, his book on the Psalms. I find using the whole Psalter more spiritually nourishing than using just the selections in the Daily Lectionary.

Anyway, reading all the Psalms over and over again has given me an appreciation, not only for individual psalms but also for the person or persons responsible for the Psalter in its final form. I am impressed, and blessed, by the rhythm of the collection: the way psalms with similar themes are grouped together, but also the way that we are not allowed to wallow in lament, complaint, or praise, but move back and forth between the varying moods and emotions that we all relate to at one time or another. John Calvin puts it well in a famous passage:

I have been accustomed to call this book, I think not inappropriately, “An Anatomy of all the Parts of the Soul;” for there is not an emotion of which any one can be conscious that is not here represented as in a mirror. Or rather, the Holy Spirit has here drawn to the life all the griefs, sorrows, fears, doubts, hopes, cares, perplexities, in short, all the distracting emotions with which the minds of men are wont to be agitated. The other parts of Scripture contain the commandments which God enjoined his servants to announce to us. But here the prophets themselves, seeing they are exhibited to us as speaking to God, and laying open all their inmost thoughts and affections, call, or rather draw, each of us to the examination of himself in particulars in order that none of the many infirmities to which we are subject, and of the many vices with which we abound, may remain concealed. (Preface to A Commentary on the Psalms)

One thing I note every time through the Psalter is that Psalm 22 and 23 are always read together. Psalm 23 is the psalm we all run to, especially at a time of death; Psalm 22 is the psalm we tend to stay away from, except on Good Friday—and even then, we’re not too comfortable with it. But the compiler of the Psalter helps us to see that forsakenness and trust can exist side by side: in the same church, in the same family, even in the same person. Psalm 22, with its excruciating opening cry, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” ends with words of hope, leading us into the reassurance of Psalm 23: “The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.” 23 is all the more powerful when read in company with 22. It’s probably worth noting that both are attributed to David. Whether David actually wrote both or not, they witness to the kind of faith we see in David.

Most of us get to read the 23rd Psalm more than we’d like, since it gets chosen a lot for funerals. Sometimes the reasons for that are pretty shallow--e.g. “it’s the only passage of Scripture I can identify”--but sometimes they are profound. I did a funeral this morning for an 81-year-old woman whose Confirmation passage was Psalm 23, and it fit her like a glove. Thanks be to God.

No Post-Easter Letdown

2010-04-06T11:47:00.001-05:00

Charles Schultz, in one of his inimitable "Peanuts" comic strips, coined the expression "Post-Christmas Letdown." Schultz may have been the one to name it, but we've all felt it: that feeling of disappointment that comes when all the services are over, all the presents have been opened and the wrappings discarded, and we are back at work with nothing to look forward to but three months of Winter. The tree may still be up, but it's looking a little droopy, even if it's artificial. Nobody really likes those few days after Christmas.

But yesterday I realized that there's no corresponding Post-Easter Letdown. That may be because we don't overload Easter with unrealistic expectations the way we do Christmas, but I think it's something more. Easter points us forward in a way that Christmas, as we usually celebrate it, doesn't. The eschatological emphasis of the Advent texts tries to drag us into the future, but old habits are hard to break and we often find ourselves longing for Christmases past--or at least I do.

Easter, to be sure, has a strong historical component. We wouldn't celebrate it if Jesus hadn't been raised from the dead at a particular time in a particular place. Easter both completes the story begun at Christmas and opens a new chapter. Because Jesus is alive, the past is prologue and the future is open. Jesus said it this way: “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you...Receive the Holy Spirit.”

Christ has died; Christ is risen; Christ will come again. On to Pentecost!

Prayer and Ministry

2010-03-31T11:13:00.001-05:00

The discipline of leading all our people with their struggles into the gentle and humble heart of God is the discipline of prayer as well as the discipline of ministry. As long as ministry only means that we worry a lot about people and their problems; as long as it means an endless number of activities which we can hardly coordinate, we are still very much dependent on our own narrow and anxious heart. But when our worries are led to the heart of God and there become prayer, then ministry and prayer become two manifestations of the same all-embracing love of God. - Henri Nouwen, The Way of the Heart, p.88

Holy Week Meditations

2010-03-29T13:18:00.002-05:00

Driving around as much as I do gives me a lot of time in the car, and since I’m not one of those folk who can pray while driving, much less talk on the phone, and since I have a hard time finding a radio station I can stand to listen to, I nearly always have a CD in the player, either music or an audio book. For a couple of weeks during Lent I listened to Hunting Eichmann: How a Band of Survivors and a Young Spy Agency Chased Down the World's Most Notorious Nazi by Neal Bascomb. On one level, it’s an adventure story, far more exciting that anything in James Bond. On another level, it’s a meditation on the nature of evil and the quest for justice.

Adolph Eichmann was the man chosen by the Third Reich to put the “Final Solution” into practice. He made the plans and signed the orders that ultimately sent 6 million Jews to camps where they were shot, gassed, or worked to death. Those who survived were left with lifelong physical and emotional scars. Yet Eichmann, with his last breath, proclaimed his innocence. In the first place, he said, he had not killed anyone, nor had he ordered the killing of anyone. Yes, he had made the arrangements for Jews to be sent to the camps, but he wasn’t responsible for what happened to them after they got there. Besides, he said, he was following orders. He really had no choice.

Eichmann disappeared at the end of World War Two and was not captured until 1960, when he was found living in Argentina under an assumed name. Those who hunted down Eichmann and brought him to trial were nearly all either survivors of the camps or people who had lost family members in the Eichmann-orchestrated Final Solution. They could have simply assassinated him, and there were some on the team who wanted to do just that. But the view that prevailed was that the trial had to be public, so that the world would know and not forget. For many in 1960, the world had moved on, the Second World War and all that went with it was old news; the present threat was not Germany but Russia and the Communist influence. Eichmann’s arrest and his trial in an Israeli court brought recent history back into the headlines. Judging by the activity of Holocaust deniers in our own day, the instinct that led to a trial was the right one. Those who don’t believe the Final Solution was real should be sentenced to read the transcript of the Eichmann trial.

In an interesting twist to the case, a Canadian minister spent time with Eichmann after his conviction, while Eichmann was awaiting execution. The minister’s goal was to help Eichmann see his sin and need for repentance and forgiveness.

But Eichmann would have none of it. He stuck to his reasons for innocence, adding that he did in fact believe in God, though not a personal God, and that when he died he would return to the God who created him. So Eichmann was hanged, the only person ever to be executed by the state of Israel, and in a bit of historical irony, his body was cremated and his ashes scattered at sea so that no monument or memorial could even be erected at his grave site. Justice had finally caught up with Adolph Eichmann.

But in what sense could justice ever be done to Eichmann, or Hitler, or Goering, or for that matter Stalin or Pol Pot or Saddam Hussein? I believe that forgiveness was available to Adolph Eichmann, but—unless God did something with him in the final judgment that I don’t know about—Eichmann didn’t take it. My vision of Eichmann’s eternity is that he is overwhelmed by what he did. All that he tried to keep from thinking about he now has no choice but to think about; all the walls he put up to the truth are now broken down. No external torment is necessary; he is tormenting himself.

All this is by way of thinking about the thief on the cross. There two thieves, of course: one abused Jesus; the other had another view: “we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man”--Jesus--“has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” (Luke 23:41-43)

If there is forgiveness for the thief, there is forgiveness for Eichmann. If there is forgiveness for Eichmann, there is forgiveness for me. Eichmann didn’t take that forgiveness. May God give us the grace to take the forgiveness that Christ offers, and be thankful.

New Reformed Association

2010-03-24T10:01:00.001-05:00

I just learned about this, and I think it's interesting:

http://www.reformedchurches.org/

Missing Link

2010-03-23T08:19:00.002-05:00

I tried to insert a link in my last post, but for some reason it didn't come through. Here it is again; you may have to copy and paste it into your browser:
http://www.buy.com/prod/smith-micro-quickverse/q/loc/105/213897871.html?adid=17653

Bible Software

2010-03-23T08:16:00.002-05:00

Anyone looking for Bible software might like to check this out:

It's a good price, anyway, and I've had good success ordering from Buy.com.

Encouragement for Members

2010-03-22T19:14:00.002-05:00

I'm a little busy this week--who isn't, in Lent?--and this came to my inbox from the Alban Institute, so I thought I'd share it. It's very good as long as you remember that we are trying to avoid the words "laity" and "clergy" when we talk about church:

http://www.alban.org/conversation.aspx?id=8988

Joseph

2010-03-15T11:45:00.002-05:00

One of my spiritual disciplines is to read daily, or almost daily, the readings from the Daily Lectionary. (These readings can be found in several places, including the Book of Common Worship and The Mission Yearbook for Prayer and Study, both the print and online versions). For the last several days I have been pointed to the story of Joseph, which begins in chapter 27 of Genesis and ends with the end of that book, chapter 50. Every time I read it I find myself asking the same question:why does it take so much space? Chapters 37-50 (with the exception of ch.38, which tells the story of Judah and Tamar) are devoted to the story of Joseph, his father, and his brothers. That’s 13 chapters out of 50, more chapters than are devoted to Abraham (11:27-25:11) or Jacob (27-35, though of course the story of Joseph is an extension of the story of Jacob). The story of Joseph could have been told much more succinctly, perhaps as the Revised Common Lectionary does, for the 19th and 20th Sundays in Ordinary Time: Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28 and Genesis 45:1-15. But that doesn’t do justice to the evident importance of the story of Joseph, et.al. in the eyes of the Genesis redactor. It struck me the other day that the detailed list of Jacob’s descendants who went to Egypt (Genesis 46) suggests that the sojourn to Egypt was just as important to the nation as the departure from Egypt and the journey to the Promised Land.

Now, here’s a stretch, or maybe not: what if we saw the sojourn in Egypt as a necessary formative period for the people of God, but one from which of course they had to be freed? When Joseph sent for his father and brothers it was their salvation, but eventually it became their prison.

Could we see the Constantinian compromise in a similar light? Constantine saved the Church from persecution, but he (and his successors) also ensured that the Church would remain in a sort of captivity, a bird in a gilded cage as it were. Luther spoke of the “Babylonian Captivity” of the Church (Prelude on the Babylonian Captivity of the Church, October 1520), but it might be worthwhile to think about the Egyptian Sojourn of the Church. The history of the Church could be seen as the history of our attempt to leave Egypt without doing without its comfort and security. Someone at the Transformation Conference two weeks ago said “the children of Israel could never have left Egypt if they hadn’t taken the bones of Joseph with them” (Genesis 50:24-25; Exodus 13:19; Joshua 24:32).

Maybe it’s time for us to revisit the story of Joseph. What does this dramatic narrative have to say to us as a Church learning how to be Church in a time and place different from what we grew up in?

No Gold Medals

2010-03-08T18:07:00.000-06:00

A couple things came together for me last week with the close of the Winter Olympics: someone said something in passing about there not being any gold medals for visiting church members in the nursing home. No, I thought, nor are there any for preaching, leading worship, moderating a Session, or any of the hundred and one other things that pastors do on a daily basis.
I, for one, don’t want it any other way.
After all, most of the really important and worthwhile things that take place in life never make it into the public eye. You hug your kids when they go to bed at night. Nobody knows that unless you tell them, but you are doing something to shape their character and personality that is far more important than a gold medal.
The other thing that got me thinking along these lines was picking up a Temptations greatest hits CD. It opens with the classic “My Girl:”
I got sunshine on a cloudy day,
When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May...The vocals are great, especially David Ruffin’s lead, but the “hook” of the song is the guitar line that begins the cut and sets the mood and tempo. Responsible for that, and for much of the rest of the Motown Sound, were a group of studio musicians who worked seven-day weeks for $10 a song, and who received no credit for their work until recently. They were known collectively, and informally, as the Funk Brothers. My guess is that you’ve heard of the Temptations, the Miracles, the Supremes, and Stevie Wonder, but you’ve probably never heard of the Funk Brothers, yet without them there would have been no Motown. (If your taste runs more to mainstream rock-’n’-roll, you might like to know that it’s not one of the Beach Boys who opens up the song “California Girls;” it’s the largely unsung bassist Carol Kaye—and you’ve probably never heard of her, either, though she’s appeared on more than 10,000 recordings, according to her web site, http://www.carolkaye.com/)
Jesus said, “Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Mark 10:43b-45 TNIV) See—it’s not too bad working in the background.

Something for Sunday

2010-03-03T09:57:00.001-06:00

Those who are preaching on the gospel lesson for Sunday (or those who find themselves listening to someone else preach on it) may find these words, from Henri Nouwen, helpful, as I did this morning:

The immense suffering of humanity can easily be understood as a sign of God’s wrath, as a punishment. It often was understood that way, and it often still is. The Psalmist says: “Yahweh is holding a cup filled with a heady blend of wine; he will pour it, they will drink it to the dregs, all the wicked on earth will drink it” (Psalm 75:8). And we, looking at the horrors that plague our world, are saying, “How can there be a loving God when all this is happening? It must be a cruel, spiteful God who allows human beings to suffer so much!”
Jesus, however, took upon himself all this suffering and lifted it up on the cross, not as a curse but as a blessing. Jesus made the cup of God’s wrath into a cup of blessings. That’s the mystery of the Eucharist. Jesus died for us so that we may live. He poured out his blood for us so that we may find new life. He gave himself away for us, so that we can live in community. He became for us food and drink so that we can be fed for everlasting life. That is what Jesus meant when he took the cup and said: “This cup is the new covenant in my blood poured out for you” (Luke 22:20). The Eucharist is that sacred mystery through which what we lived as a curse, we now live as a blessing. Our suffering can no longer be a divine punishment. Jesus transformed it as the way to new life. His blood, and ours too, now can become martyr’s blood—blood that witnesses to a new covenant, a new communion, a new community.
When we lift the cup of our life and share with one another our sufferings and joys in mutual vulnerability, the new covenant can become visible among us. The surprise of it all is that it is often the least among us who reveal to us that our cup is a cup of blessings. - Henri Nouwen, Can You Drink the Cup? pp.68-69

John Calvin on Welcoming Sinners

2010-02-27T19:58:00.002-06:00

Found this in my reading today and thought it was good enough to share. The last paragraph in particular is worth reading. - Richard Francis

Not they who are in health need a physician. It is evident from Christ’s reply that the scribes erred in two ways: they did not take into account the office of Christ; and, while they spared their own vices, they proudly despised all others. This deserves our particular attention, for it is a disease which has been always very general. Hypocrites, being satisfied and intoxicated with a foolish confidence in their own righteousness, do not consider the purpose for which Christ was sent into the world, and do not acknowledge the depth of evils in which the human race is plunged, or the dreadful wrath and curse of God which lies on all, or the accumulated load of vices which weighs them down.

The consequence is, that they are too stupid to feel the miseries of men, or to think of a remedy. While they flatter themselves, they cannot endure to be placed in their own rank, and think that injustice is done them, when they are classed with transgressors. Our Lord glances at this second error by replying, that they who are in health have no need of a physician. It is an ironical admission, and is intended to show that they are offended when they see sinners, because they claim righteousness for themselves. Because you are in health, (he says,) you despise the sick, are offended at them, and cannot endure the sight of them: but a physician ought to be affected in a very different manner. He afterwards points out that he must discharge the duties of a physician, because he has been sent by the Father to call sinners.

Though Christ begins with reproof, yet if we desire to make progress in his doctrine, what he has put in the second place must receive our first consideration. He came to quicken the dead, to justify the guilty and condemned, to wash those who were polluted and full of uncleanness, to rescue the lost from hell, to clothe with his glory those who were covered with shame, to renew to a blessed immortality those who were debased by disgusting vices. If we consider that this was his office and the end of his coming,—if we remember that this was the reason why he took upon him our flesh, why he shed his blood, why he offered the sacrifice of his death, why he descended even to hell, we will never think it strange that he should gather to salvation those who have been the worst of men, and who have been covered with a mass of crimes.

He whom you detest appears to you to be unworthy of the grace of Christ. Why then was Christ himself made a sacrifice and a curse, but that he might stretch out his hand to accursed sinners? Now, if we feel disgust at being associated by Baptism and the Lord’s Supper with vile men, and regard our connection with them as a sort of stain upon us, we ought immediately to descend into ourselves, and to search without flattery our own evils. Such an examination will make us willingly allow ourselves to be washed in the same fountain with the most impure, and will hinder us from rejecting the righteousness which he offers indiscriminately to all the ungodly, the life which he offers to the dead, and the salvation which he offers to the lost. - John Calvin, commenting on Mark 2:12 and parallels

Lent

2010-02-22T12:52:00.001-06:00

I don’t remember when I first became aware of Lent. We didn’t observe Lent in the open-country Presbyterian Church that was my family of faith for my first 18 years. That may have been part of our Calvinist heritage that viewed with distrust anything that might be regarded as “Catholic,” or it may have been the free church tradition that had so much influence on our Presbyterian churches, at least in the Midwest. By my teen years I had probably learned about Lent, but it seemed pretty clear that it was Catholic Thing, that Protestants didn’t do Lent.

By seminary I was well aware of Lent, largely I think through the Methodist church we attended after college, but again not a lot was made of Lent at my non-denominational, evangelical seminary, though there were plenty of students and faculty members from liturgical churches. I think Lent really began to be important to me as I got into the parish and began to settle into the rhythm of the church year.

Now, while Lent is important to me, it’s not a season of personal focus so much as a time of corporate discipline. We add Wednesday services during Lent, so my preaching preparation is doubled. I don’t usually give up anything for Lent, though you can ask me about the time I fasted from coffee for 40 days (I almost made it the whole time). One year, in response to a suggestion from a colleague, I added something for Lent, volunteering at a local elementary school. I enjoyed that so much that I continued it long after Lent was over, which may prompt the question: should we be doing something during Lent that we enjoy, or are spiritual disciplines by definition painful?

Preaching twice a week in Lent is more work, but it’s work I enjoy. Paying more attention to prayer takes more effort, but it’s rewarding. Nobody likes thinking about sin and death, but they are the biggest realities of our lives, and any thoughts about sin draw us inevitably to Jesus Christ: his death, his resurrection, his intercession. There’s a reason it’s called Good Friday. Several years ago I saw a TV interview with the novelist John Updike, who had just published Roger’s Version. The interviewer noted that the central character of the novel was a minister, and that ministers had figured prominently in several of Updike’s stories; why was that? Updike’s answer went something like this: ministers are interestingly people [!] because they deal every day with things that most of us don’t have to think about very often: mortality, death, the meaning and purpose of life. And if you’ve read any Updike you know that those are the very themes he deals with on a regular basis.

So Lent has become an important part of my year, not only because there’s so much tradition behind it, but also because it’s the best way to get to Easter. As Shelley wrote, “If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”

Anticipating Adversity

2010-02-15T10:33:00.002-06:00

I was a bit surprised this morning to discover that gospel in today’s Daily Lectionary is John 18:15-18, 25-27, Peter’s denial of Jesus. Lent doesn’t start for another two days, and Good Friday is more than a month off. Why this passage today?

I often find myself wondering about the choices made by both the Daily and the Sunday Lectionary, which is probably a good thing. If the choices were obvious to me, I wouldn’t have to think about them. I have noticed, for example that the Sunday Lectionary begins some Advent themes in the weeks leading up to Advent, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the Daily Lectionary would introduce Lenten themes before Lent.

Unlike the other gospel writers, John narrates Peter’s denial matter-of-factly, with no reference to Peter’s breaking down and weeping. We are left to draw our own conclusions about Peter’s state of mind at this point. Calvin’s comments are typically trenchant:

Peter is introduced into the high priest’s hall; but it cost him very dear, for, as soon as he sets his foot within it, he is constrained to deny Christ. When he stumbles so shamefully at the first step, the foolishness of his boasting is exposed. He had boasted that he would prove to be a valiant champion, and able to meet death with firmness; and now, at the voice of a single maid, and that voice unaccompanied by threatening, he is confounded and throws down his arms. Such is a demonstration of the power of man. Certainly, all the strength that appears to be in men is smoke, which a breath immediately drives away. When we are out of the battle, we are too courageous; but experience shows that our lofty talk is foolish and groundless; and, even when Satan makes no attacks, we contrive for ourselves idle alarms which disturb us before the time. The voice of a feeble woman terrified Peter: and what is the case with us? Do we not continually tremble at the rustling of a falling leaf? A false appearance of danger, which was still distant, made Peter tremble: and are we not every day led away from Christ by childish absurdities? In short, our courage is of such a nature, that, of its own accord, it gives way where there is no enemy; and thus does God revenge the arrogance of men by reducing fierce minds to a state of weakness. A man, filled not with fortitude but with wind, promises that he will obtain an easy victory over the whole world; and yet, no sooner does he see the shadow of a thistle, than he immediately trembles. Let us therefore learn not to be brave in any other than the Lord. (from Calvin’s Commentary on the Gospel of John, my emphasis)

I can find myself in this gospel story, and in Calvin’s comments on it. I can imagine myself far more courageous than I am, or than I turn out to when I am actually in the situation I had imagined. Yet the act of imagining is not useless. I have come to believe that one of the purposes of worship, of hearing and reading Scripture is to ask ourselves “what if?” What would I do in this situation? How could I prepare for it?

I read once about a man who volunteered to be a courier of sensitive documents at the beginning of the Second World War, when of course such documents had to be carried by ship. His supervisor was sceptical of the man’s ability to undertake this kind of challenge; after all, the German U-Boats had been extremely successful in sinking Allied shipping, and it was likely that the young man would either drown or succumb to the icy waters of the North Atlantic. The man replied that he had for the past month been soaking himself daily in tub of ice water, increasing the time each day until he was able to tolerate the bitter cold. His offer to serve as a courier was accepted, his ship was in fact torpedoed, and he survived the frigid waters with his precious documents intact.

Of course none of us knows what we will actually do in an extreme situation; that’s why Peter’s example is worth keeping before us, and Calvin’s counsel that we learn not to be brave in any other than the Lord is good advice. But the “what if” question is still a good one, as John Baillie prays: “do Thou enable me so to discipline my will that in hours of stress I may honestly seek after those things for which I have prayed in hours of peace.” (Diary of Private Prayer, p.135)

Amen.

Correction to Previous Post

2010-02-11T13:08:00.003-06:00

In my last post about Parkersburg I misidentified the source. It was actually from Lesleigh Wiese in the church at Lake Park. Sorry Lesleigh; that's what I get for not checking my e-mail return addresses!

Prayers for Parkersburg

2010-02-11T10:24:00.002-06:00

Just got this from Lesleigh in the Iowa Conference UCC office, and thought I'd pass it along:

First Congregational Church in Parkersburg is asking for prayer for their families, and their community. Many of the high school kids witnessed the horrific murder of Coach Thomas in the AP weight room. Also, Mark Becker's trial is beginning on Feb. 8 with the jury selection. They are asking for much needed prayer for the trial as it will be a very public trial – getting national media attention. Amazingly, they really, really are asking that their community and their churches would be used as a light for Christ for God's eternal kingdom (so cool)! They are a tired community, just exhausted from all the destruction, grief, tragedy, and sorrow but want Jesus to be uplifted and glorified through it all. They are asking for people to pray for them - their stamina, perseverance, and Christ-like witness. Please forward this e-mail on to your family and friends so hopefully as many people in our nation will be praying as possible.

Calvin on Love

2010-02-09T16:33:00.001-06:00

Here's a Calvin quotation suitable for Valentine's Day:

For such is the nature of true love, that one prefers to weep with his brother, rather than to look at a distance on his grief, and to live in pleasure or ease. - John Calvin, commenting on Romans 12:15

Change and Loss

2010-02-08T16:50:00.000-06:00

I had been called to the bedside of an elderly church member who was dying in a nursing home. The family was gathered in her room, talking in hushed voices, listening to her labored breathing and wondering when the end would come. The curtain separating her side of the room from that of her roommate was drawn, but that didn’t prevent us from hearing the following exchange:
Roommate: You know that pill I’m supposed to take at nine o’clock?
Aide: Yes.
Roommate: Well, I’m not going to take it.
All of us gathered on the other side of the curtain found ourselves smiling in spite of the seriousness of the situation. A woman with precious few opportunities to determine her own destiny had decided there was an act of rebellion she could take.
Last week I took an online class from Union Seminary/PSCE entitled “Strategic Leadership for a Change,” led by Ken McFayden and based on his book of the same name. You may be familiar with Ken, as he was for many years with the North Central Ministry Development Center in Minneapolis and has done presentations at Synod events during that time. The theme of both the book (which I recommend) and the class is pretty simple: we don’t fear change so much as we fear loss, and every change involves loss. Even the changes that we most desire and look forward mean that we are leaving something behind, something that we will need to grieve for.
Of course Ken’s presentation is primarily concerned with how change affects congregations, how they plan for or resist change, and how as pastors and CLPs we can lead congregations through change. I’ve done my share of grumbling about how congregations resist change, but this book helped me think about the changes in my own life, and the grieving I’ve had to do over the losses that came with those changes.
One of the problems with the book, and it’s probably unavoidable, is that it’s long on analysis on short on solutions. It’s not hard to make a list of losses for any congregation, even a growing one, but it’s hard to know how we can help congregations in their situations. How many times have congregations refused to take their “nine-o’clock pill” even though they might suspect it would do them some good? For that matter, how many times I have refused that “pill?”
Ken’s major contribution is not in a single solution but in pointing us in a helpful direction. Change means loss; loss means detachment; moving forward will mean, not re-attaching (as most of the literature suggests), but in attaching anew. The church we have known may be gone, but we can attach to the church that is coming into being. It doesn’t mean we won’t grieve; it means that, as the Apostle Paul says in a somewhat different context, we will not grieve as those who have no hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). After all, it was never our church; it was always God’s church, and that is a word of supreme grace.

How Many "Friends" Do You Have?

2010-02-01T16:12:00.001-06:00

Since you are almost certainly reading this on a computer, you are probably somewhat familiar with Facebook; if you aren’t here’s a link to my page: http://www.facebook.com/8stringster?ref=profile#/?ref=home. Anyway, everyone who is linked to your Facebook page is known as a “friend,” and they can all see whatever you write about or any pictures you might post, as well as other people’s comments on your comments. If you want to invite someone to link to your Facebook page, you “friend” them (yes, “friend” is now a verb), and that person decides whether or not they want to be your Facebook friend. In a lot of ways it’s like being in Junior High all over again, only without the acne.
Well, here’s a shocker: it turns out that not of all your Facebook friends are real friends. This is based on the scientific observation, first made nearly 20 years ago by anthropologist Robin Dunbar, that the human brain can handle no more than 150 friends, that is, “relationships in which a person knows how each friend relates to every other friend. They are people you care about and contact at least once a year.” You can read more about it in a short article from The Times of London: http://technology.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/tech_and_web/the_web/article6999879.ece Dunbar began this work before the rise of social networking sites like Facebook, but he has recently extended his research to discover if the new technology has enabled us to transcend this barrier. Turns out that it hasn’t: “The interesting thing is that you can have 1,500 friends but when you actually look at traffic on sites, you see people maintain the same inner circle of around 150 people that we observe in the real world,” said Dunbar. Whether online or face-to-face, we tend to self-organize into groups of about 150 because “social cohesion tends to deteriorate as groups become larger.”
So it’s really no surprise that so many churches have about 150 members, and it shouldn’t surprise us that even in a growing area it’s very difficult to grow beyond 150, unless we’re willing to give ups something. We like knowing everyone we go to church with, and if the church gets too large, we start complaining that it doesn’t feel like our church anymore. As someone remarked, when people say, “this is a friendly church,” what they often mean is, “all my friends are here.”
The challenge for us as churches is to move beyond the friendship circle, not necessarily to make new friends if your quota is already full, but to make disciples. That means thinking of people in a whole new way: not first of all as my friends, but as friends of Jesus. That, it seems, is what Jesus wants: “No one has greater love than this,” he says, “to lay down one's life for one's friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.” (John 15:13-15)
It’s a good thing Jesus isn’t limited by the 150-friend rule, isn’t it?

Calvin on Perseverance

2010-01-28T09:25:00.000-06:00

They indeed who have been illuminated by the Lord ought always to think of perseverance; for they continue not in the goodness of God, who having for a time responded to the call of God, do at length begin to loathe the kingdom of heaven, and thus by their ingratitude justly deserve to be blinded again. - John Calvin, commenting on Romans 11:22

Calvin on the Fear of God

2010-01-27T09:52:00.001-06:00

19. Thou wilt then say, etc. In the person of the Gentiles he brings forward what they might have pleaded for themselves; but that was of such a nature as ought not to have filled them with pride, but, on the contrary, to have made them humble. For if the cutting off of the Jews was through unbelief, and if the ingrafting of the Gentiles was by faith, what was their duty but to acknowledge the favor of God, and also to cherish modesty and humbleness of mind? For it is the nature of faith, and what properly belongs to it, to generate humility and fear. But by fear understand that which is in no way inconsistent with the assurance of faith; for Paul would not have our faith to vacillate or to alternate with doubt, much less would he have us to be frightened or to quake with fear.

Of what kind then is this fear? As the Lord bids us to take into our consideration two things, so two kinds of feeling must thereby be produced. For he would have us ever to bear in mind the miserable condition of our nature; and this can produce nothing but dread, weariness, anxiety, and despair; and it is indeed expedient that we should thus be thoroughly laid prostrate and broken down, that we may at length groan to him; but this dread, derived from the knowledge of ourselves, keeps not our minds while relying on his goodness, from continuing calm; this weariness hinders us not from enjoying full consolation in him; this anxiety, this despair, does not prevent us from obtaining in him real joy and hope. Hence the fear, of which he speaks, is set up as an antidote to proud contempt; for as every one claims for himself more than what is right, and becomes too secure and at length insolent towards others, we ought then so far to fear, that our heart may not swell with pride and elate itself. - John Calvin, commenting on Romans 11:19

The Lectionary

2010-01-25T11:47:00.001-06:00

The Revised Common Lectionary is used so much in our churches that it’s easy to forget it’s a relatively recent development. Attending seminary in the 1970’s I heard nothing about the Lectionary, except in references to liturgical churches in books on preaching. The sermon planning style recommended to me was the so-called lectio continuo: preach through a book of the Bible.
So that’s what I did for the first couple of years, though it didn’t take long for me to realize that I had to pick and choose. There are after all 16 chapters in the shortest Gospel, Mark; to preach through every word and do it any kind of justice would take at least half a year, and that wouldn’t fit into the celebrations of Christmas and Easter. (I know that wouldn’t bother John Calvin, but it bothered me) I also realized, with a shock, that in my picking and choosing I was unconsciously ignoring certain themes. I was truly abashed to realize that in working my way through one of the Gospels I had omitted all the healing stories. It wasn’t because I disbelieved in healing. It was evidently because I subconsciously preferred not to talk about it. Sigmund Freud would have a field day with me.
So I turned to the Lectionary, and I found another benefit: I got involved in a Lectionary study group. If you’ve never been part of one of these, I can’t recommend the practice too highly. It forces you to look at the texts further away than a few days; it lets you bounce your ideas off other preachers and hear what they have to say; it may even make you argue your position on a particular text or compel you to change your mind. Besides, every Lectionary group I’ve been part of has turned into a support group, and goodness knows we can all use a little support.
No, the Lectionary isn’t perfect, and there are times when I depart from it to work through a shorter book or follow a theme. But week after week, I find the discipline of Lectionary preaching the best way to feed a congregation, and nourish my own spiritual life as well.

Calvin on the Church

2010-01-20T09:25:00.000-06:00

It hence follows, that they egregiously mistake who form an opinion of the Church according to their own perceptions. And surely if that celebrated Prophet, who was endued with so enlightened a mind, was so deceived, when he attempted by his own judgment to form an estimate of God’s people, what shall be the case with us, whose highest perspicuity, when compared with his, is mere dullness? Let us not then determine any thing rashly on this point; but rather let this truth remain fixed in our hearts — that the Church, though it may not appear to our eyes, is sustained by the secret providence of God. Let it also be remembered by us, that they are foolish and presumptuous who calculate the number of the elect according to the extent of their own perception: for God has a way, easy to himself, hidden from us, by which he wonderfully preserves his elect, even when all things seem to us past all remedy...

Since then the grace of God prevails so much in an extreme state of things, let us not lightly give over to the devil all those whose piety does not openly appear to us. It also ought to be fully imprinted on our minds, — that however impiety may everywhere prevail, and dreadful confusion spread on every side, yet the salvation of many remains secured under the seal of God. f338 But that no one may under this error indulge his own sloth, as many seek hiding-places for their vices in the hidden providences of God, it is right to observe again, — that they only are said to be saved who continue sound and unpolluted in the faith of God. This circumstance in the case ought also to be noticed, — that those only remained safe who did not prostitute their body, no, not even by an external act of dissimulation, to the worship of idols; for he not only ascribes to them a purity of mind, but that they had also kept their body from being polluted by any filthiness of superstition.- John Calvin, commenting on Romans 11:2

Cleaning Day

2010-01-18T10:45:00.001-06:00

Today is the day I clean up my study. A friend reports that he was asked in an interview, “Are you a filer or a piler?” and if those are the choices, I have to describe myself as a piler. Every available horizontal surface is covered with stacks of paper, books, and miscellaneous objects. The upside is that it makes dusting easy. It’s probably a good thing that I have a small desk or it, too, would be piled with stuff. (See picture)
Those of you with neat work spaces will tell me how much easier it is to clean up as you go. Everything I’ve ever read about it has the same advice: every piece of paper should be handled once: filed, discarded, or passed on. Books, once read or consulted, should be returned to the shelf. Miscellaneous objects should be put in place or eliminated. It all makes perfect sense. But after working the other way for so long I have just about come to the conclusion that there’s no hope for me. I will always be a piler.
This is where I make a virtue of necessity: those who keep their workspace neat have no conception of the thrill of straightening up: of seeing the piles of paper disappear, of seeing the stacks of books back on the shelves, of seeing the knicknacks go in their proper places. The Indiana Jones-like excitement when a long-missing document is unearthed. The guilty pleasure of knowing you really should be doing something else but now have a perfect excuse not to do it: sorry, have to do this later, right now I’m cleaning up my study.
Finally I take comfort in the knowledge that nowhere does the Bible command us to be neat. “Cleanliness is next to godliness” comes, not from Scripture, but from John Wesley. When Paul says that all things should be done decently and in order, he’s talking about the community’s worship (1 Corinthians 14:40).
Now that that’s off my chest, it’s time to start straightening up.

2010-01-18T10:31:00.000-06:00

Funeral Meditations

2010-01-12T13:17:00.000-06:00

Had one of those funerals yesterday that I would rather not have had to do: the deceased was a 33-year-old man, the same age as one of our sons, who left behind a wife and two children, not to mention a mother and three brothers. More than 700 people came to the visitation and 300 or more came to the funeral. I wrote a funeral sermon on Saturday, then after the visitation I tore it up, chose new Scriptures, and wrote a new sermon. Someone else might have done it differently, or done it better, but I was the one who was called on to do it, and I did what I hope was my best, under God. People told me it was helpful.

So while I would rather not have had to do that funeral, I was glad I was able to do it. If as the church we can’t offer something at a time like this, we probably ought to close up and sell the building. “If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.” (1 Corinthians 15:19 NRS)

Nevertheless, these are the times we feel most inadequate as preachers, which is probably good for us spiritually. After all, “we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us.” (2 Corinthians 4:7 NRS) It brings out the paradox of everything we do, from preaching to counseling to administration: nothing happens that does not happen by the power of God, yet nothing happens that doesn’t involve work on our part as well. Somehow God takes what we do and uses it, often in ways we don’t even know about.

So today I am reflecting and looking ahead to Sunday and calling on a few people, believing that God is as much a part of my ordinary activities as he was of our extraordinary activities yesterday.

The Big Storm of '09

2010-01-04T12:38:00.001-06:00

Last year I took both of the congregations I serve through a series of what we called “cottage meetings.” The people gathered by small groups in private homes for an evening of sharing around the following questions, which came to me from a long-forgotten source as “Quaker Questions:”
1.Where did you live between the ages of 8 and 13, and what were the winters like?
2.How was your home heated during that time?
3.What was the center of warmth in your home during that time? (It could be a place, person, or time of day)
4.When did God become a “warm person” to you, and how did it happen?
Over the years I’ve learned to expect both conventional and surprising results from those questions, and this year was no exception. One thing that kept coming up was that most of us remembered winters as being more severe when we were growing up than we have experienced lately.

Of course I found myself wondering how much of that was accurate and how much the effect of the passing of time, blizzards and snowdrifts increasing in our memory until they assume nearly mythical proportions. Dylan Thomas, in his beautiful memoir, A Child’s Christmas in Wales, writes, “I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.” After all, we only have snow at Christmas about half the time in Iowa, yet our memories all tend to be of white Christmases.

Well. This is turning out to be a real old-fashioned Iowa winter with two- and three-day blizzards, messing up travel plans, forcing churches to cancel services—this is the first time I can remember canceling Christmas Eve services in 30+ years of ministry—and straining the already-strained budgets of towns, counties, businesses and churches as we cope with finding places for all the snow.

Interestingly, all the people I’ve talked to, even the family who went without electricity for three days, seem to be taking it all in stride, finding things to celebrate and be thankful for in the middle of some mighty serious weather. We talked, we read, we huddled together for warmth, we shoveled and scraped and ran snowblowers, and in spite of everything, we enjoyed Christmas.

As pastors, this weather makes our jobs harder in some ways, but it may force us to spend a little more time reading, reflecting, and even planning. And I guess that brings me back to the point I was making a few weeks ago: learn to adapt to what’s happening in your world, and you might find that God is giving you an opportunity.

Time Off

2009-12-21T12:49:00.001-06:00

I'll be taking next week off, so no post until January 5.

The Longest Night

2009-12-21T12:48:00.001-06:00

I’m writing this on the first day of winter, December 21, which makes tonight the longest night of the year. We’ll be having a Longest Night service tonight, not so much to commemorate the Winter Solstice as to acknowledge the sense of loss and loneliness that some of us feel at this, “the most wonderful time of the year.” We’ll be missing our youngest son, who isn’t able to be with us this year, and if the weather does what they say it might, our middle son and his wife may not make it, either. Of course not seeing a family member is a lot less serious than losing a family member, and everyone who has been through that can testify that holidays can be difficult, especially the first Christmas after the loss.

At the Crawford County Hospice Tree of Lights ceremony on December 1, the speaker shared a story about how her grandmother’s noodles were the highlight of Christmas dinner for all the years she was growing up. Then Grandma died, and when Christmas came along that year, one of the sisters offered to make the noodles. The speaker said that as they all sat down to Christmas dinner, she took one look at the bowl of noodles and began to cry. It’s often the small things that are the most poignant.

As the Church of Jesus Christ we ought to be experts at dealing with loss. We have several ways of supporting people when they lose a loved one from cards to memorial gifts to the funeral dinner. But we don’t often acknowledge the losses that are harder to pin down. Having gone through two periods of unemployment in my life, I know something of the sinking feeling that brings; it’s almost a loss of self, as though my job helps tell me who I am. The changes our communities have seen over the past few years are a kind of death, and while we keep hoping they’ll come back, we know it won’t be the same.

Well, all this is kind of a downer at Christmas, but if we are going to celebrate with any kind of integrity we have to acknowledge that our celebrations are imperfect because we live in a fallen world. We are surrounded by loss, even as we live in what Titus calls the blessed hope, a text I hope everyone will read on Christmas Eve.

Scholars suggest that the accepted date for Christmas, December 25, came about by attraction to a Roman festival, the Feast of the Unconquered Sun. As the shortest day of the year came and went, the days grew longer and people celebrated the changing of the year. Winter is on its way out; Spring will come, even though it’s months away. The Church in its wisdom seized on that date to celebrate the Sun of Righteousness, who rises with healing in his wings (Malachi 4:2, an image used by Charles Wesley in “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing”). The wisdom of that decision is seen year after year, at least in the Northern Hemisphere, as we celebrate the birth of Christ at just the time when the earth is at its lowest point. A candle is that much brighter when it is lit in the darkness.

May the candles of Christmas light the way for you this year, and may your celebration be filled with joy.

Snow Daze

2009-12-14T14:45:00.000-06:00

All these snow days are prompting me to revisit an earlier post. What do you do when nature throws you for a loop?

I really didn’t mind staying home for a couple of days last week and again today (Monday) because of weather. But I didn’t get as much done as I thought I would.

Part of that was because Kathy and I, armed with snowblower and shovels, spent a couple of hours last Wednesday digging 30” of snow out of the driveway. But my lack of productivity during a couple of enforced days at home had more to do with my personality.

I am the kind of person who thrives on a regular schedule. I want to be the one to introduce any variations, thank you very much. I prefer to do my studying in the mornings, calling in the afternoons, meetings in the evening. And for a long time that worked well for me.

Since moving to Vail/Westside, however, I’ve had to accept a lot more uncertainty in my “schedule,” and not just because of snowstorms. Traveling between several communities, keeping track of the doings of two congregations, and keeping up with two denominations has meant that I can’t always organize my days and weeks the way I would like.

So I’m working on flexibility. I really can study at other times than morning, and I really can call at other times than afternoon. Steven Covey, author of Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, recommends scheduling yourself tightly at the beginning of your week and allowing your schedule to get “softer” toward the end of the week to leave room for things (like blizzards) that crop up unexpectedly.

That works pretty well. But it’s more than scheduling. It’s also an attitude adjustment. Thomas a Kempis wrote, Nam homo proponit, sed Deus disponit, usually translated as “man proposes, God disposes,” or “man plans, but God arranges.” (I have been searching a long time for a non-gender-specific way to say that and haven’t found one) The point is that we have limited control over our lives. God may be bringing something into my life or yours that we didn’t plan for—and that’s a good thing.

Thoughts from the Grinch

2009-12-07T11:27:00.001-06:00

I was part of a clegy support group a few years ago, and we were meeting at the beginning of December. As is the habit of minsters during Advent, we were grumbling about how many activities we had added on to our schedules, how much pressure we felt during the “holiday” season, and how little of it had to do with what we considered ministry. At some point I said, apparently with some energy, “Don’t you just hate December?” And they all leaned away from me with shocked expressions. Finally someone said “No-o-o” rather slowly and we went on to another topic. It’s just Richard, he’s a little weird sometimes.

So I shut up about it. And I have to admit it’s gotten better for me. But I refuse to believe that I am the only person in the world who endures rather than enjoys December. We’re all apt to complain about “materialism” when we talk about Christmas as it’s usually celebrated, but it’s more than that—it’s that everything seems to go out of focus. Even when we are at our most generous it seems to have more to do with the season as popularly conceived than with the birth of Christ.

What I’ve come to rely on is the Advent texts. Preaching, not to put too fine a point on it, keeps me sane. The readings for the four Sundays before Christmas, whatever they do for the congregation, sharpen my own focus, especially as they have very little to do with shepherds and mangers and wise men and more to do with judgment and grace.

The other spiritual discipline I observe during Advent is to read W.H. Auden’s Christmas Oratorio, For the Time Being. It’s a long, difficult poem, not for everyone, but it always speaks to me.

On a lighter note, I have a Grinch tie for every Sunday this month. It’s a reminder to me that what the Grinch objected to was the “noise, noise, noise NOISE” (I can relate) but also that the Grinch’s heart was two sizes too small. I get it. I really do.

Calvin on the Spirit's Help

2009-12-01T10:46:00.001-06:00

26. And likewise the Spirit, etc. That the faithful may not make this objection — that they are so weak as not to be able to bear so many and so heavy burdens, he brings before them the aid of the Spirit, which is abundantly sufficient to overcome all difficulties. There is then no reason for any one to complain, that the bearing of the cross is beyond their own strength, since we are sustained by a celestial power. And there is great force in the Greek word [sunantilambanetai,translated as "helps"], which means that the Spirit takes on himself a part of the burden, by which our weakness is oppressed; so that he not only helps and succours us, but lifts us up; as though he went under the burden with us. The word infirmities, being in the plural number, is expressive of extremity. For as experience shows, that except we are supported by God’s hands, we are soon overwhelmed by innumerable evils, Paul reminds us, that though we are in every respect weak, and various infirmities threaten our fall, there is yet sufficient protection in God’s Spirit to preserve us from falling, and to keep us from being overwhelmed by any mass of evils. At the same time these supplies of the Spirt more clearly prove to us, that it is by God’s appointment that we strive, by groanings and sighings, for our redemption. - John Calvin, commenting on Romans 8:26

Time Management

2009-11-30T10:14:00.001-06:00

What I remember about my first few years in ministry is not being too busy; it’s not being busy enough. I had just come out of a highly-structured environment—seminary—and gone into a rural area to serve two small churches where the only regular structure of my week consisted of two worship services. I had to figure out how to plan my weeks, and I didn’t do a very good job of it. I did a lot of studying, because I enjoy it and it comes naturally to me (I know, I know), but I didn’t really know how to fill up the rest of the week with useful occupation that still gave me time for my family. So I read books on pastoral ministry, talked to other pastors, blundered around a lot, and finally settled into a pattern that worked pretty well for a long time.

Several years later I took a course in time management at a community college. The course was designed for business people but I got a lot of good information out of it, and learned some skills I’m still using. Perhaps the most important piece came on the last day, as the instructor intended that it would. “There’s really no such thing as time management,” he said, “because everyone has the same amount of time—168 hours a week. What we call ‘time management’ is really self management.”

The most important element in self management, at least in my experience, is prayer. My prayer life was spotty at best, even after graduating from a seminary that stressed the spiritual disciplines. It wasn’t until I found myself preaching on prayer that I realized that if I was going to tell the congregation to pray that I had better start doing it myself. Again, I read books, talked to other people, blundered around a lot, and finally found a way of praying that works for me.

Most of us in the ministry have to manage ourselves. We get the same number of hours as everyone else. I tend to see that as a constraint, but I’m trying to learn to see it as a gift. God didn’t need to give me anything, but God gave me 168 hours a week—time to eat, time to sleep, time to work and time to play. I can control about 80% of how that time is spent (another learning from the time management class); I try to see the other 20%, not as intrusion or interruption, but as opportunity for ministry. I admit that’s not always easy, but it seems to work, most of the time.

What works for you?

Do All Dogs Go to Heaven? What Calvin Thinks

2009-11-25T11:33:00.000-06:00

It is then indeed meet for us to consider what a dreadful curse we have deserved, since all created things in themselves blameless, both on earth and in the visible heaven, undergo punishment for our sins; for it has not happened through their own fault, that they are liable to corruption. Thus the condemnation of mankind is imprinted on the heavens, and on the earth, and on all creatures. It hence also appears to what excelling glory the sons of God shall be exalted; for all creatures shall be renewed in order to amplify it, and to render it illustrious.

But he means not that all creatures shall be partakers of the same glory with the sons of God; but that they, according to their nature, shall be participators of a better condition; for God will restore to a perfect state the world, now fallen, together with mankind. But what that perfection will be, as to beasts as well as plants and metals, it is not meet nor right in us to inquire more curiously; for the chief effect of corruption is decay. Some subtle men, but hardly sober-minded, inquire whether all kinds of animals will be immortal; but if reins be given to speculations where will they at length lead us? Let us then be content with this simple doctrine, — that such will be the constitution and the complete order of things, that nothing will be deformed or fading. - John Calvin, commenting on Romans 8:21

Quotation for Today

2009-11-24T10:12:00.001-06:00

Matt Greaves got me started on Richard Rohr (thanks, Matt), and I found this in a book of daily readings:
If you're still breathing, there's more conversion and more life that the Lord wants to offer you. That's what John the Evangelist means when he writes, You will know that the Spirit is within you “because I live and because you will live” (John 14:19)
Why do we feel the call to this kind of charity, this kind of love? It's not a tactic or a strategy in order to get into heaven. It's simply because that's who God is: God pours forth life in our hearts and calls us to be who God is.
It's the only thing that makes sense: When you know that your parent is love, then the only thing you want to be is love. The only thing that comes logically, naturally, to you is love. Nothing else makes sense after awhile.
There is a given-ness to God. God is not withheld; God is the one who is handed over. That's what we mean when we say that God is love. But it's not like our love. When we love, we wait and see something good out there. It it's attractive enough, if it's good enough, we give ourselves to it. God simply gives. We find that kind of love very hard to understand because we're not able to love that way. - Richard Rohr, The Price of Peoplehood, reprinted in Radical Grace: Daily Meditations by Richard Rohr, p.252

Calvin's Pastoral Concern

2009-10-14T09:22:00.001-05:00

Found this today in Calvin's Commentary on Romans. Whether you agree with his interpretation of the text or not, it shows his pastoral concern even as he's writing a commentary:

7. For he who has died, etc. This is an argument derived from what belongs to death or from its effect. For if death destroys all the actions of life, we who have died to sin ought to cease from those actions which it exercised during its life. Take justified for freed or reclaimed from bondage; for as he is freed from the bond of a charge, who is absolved by the sentence of a judge; so death, by freeing us from this life, sets us free from all its functions.
But though among men there is found no such example, there is yet no reason why you should think, that what is said here is a vain speculation, or despond in your minds, because you find not yourselves to be of the number of those who have wholly crucified the flesh; for this work of God is not completed in the day in which it is begun in us; but it gradually goes on, and by daily advances is brought by degrees to its end. So then take this as the sum of the whole, — “If thou art a Christian, there must appear in thee an evidence of a fellowship as to the death of Christ; the fruit of which is, that thy flesh is crucified together with all its lusts; but this fellowship is not to be considered as not existing, because thou findest that the relics of the flesh still live in thee; but its increase ought to be diligently labored for, until thou arrivest at the goal.” It is indeed well with us, if our flesh is continually mortified; nor is it a small attainment, when the reigning power, being taken away from it, is wielded by the Holy Spirit. - John Calvin, commenting on Romans 6:7

Calvin's Preaching

2009-10-02T09:52:00.002-05:00

I noted here before that I try to read at least one book on preaching a year. This year I've not only viewed the Craddock preaching tapes I wrote about earlier, I've also read Calvin's Preaching by T.H.L. Parker. Although several thousand of Calvin's sermons exist in manuscript (transcribed from shorthand notes made by various listeners) not that many have been published and even fewer translated into English. Parker had the advantage of access to the manuscripts and gives us the benefit into his research into Calvin's theology of preaching, his style, and his approach to the sermon.

One thing that struck me was Parker's insistence that Calvin's preaching was primarily positive in tone. He nearly always preaches to encourage his listeners. The subjects of his sermons, Parker says,

..are things that have been said in every century; the quiet, persistent call to frame our lives according to the teaching of Holy Scripture...There is no threshing himself into a fever of impatience or frustration, no holier-than-thou rebuking of the people, no beggin them in terms of hyperbole to give some physical sign that the message has been accepted. It is simply one man, concious of his sins, aware how little progress he makes and how hard it is to be a doer of the Word, sympathetically passing on to his people (whom he knows to have the same sort of problems as himself) what God has said to them and to him. We even notice that in the examples given...there is not one direct imperative in the second person. He is content to pass on the message, to declare how unwilling "we" are to accept it and how weak "we" are in general, how slack and rebellious, and then to use the firm but gentle first person plural imperative, "let us..." (pp.118-119)

We can't preach in the 21st century the way a 16th-century preacher would preach. But we can learn from him.

Why Change is So Hard

2009-09-28T16:53:00.002-05:00

Here's a reminder of why we have so much trouble changing in the church. I'm not sure I completely agree, but it's a good place to start the conversation: http://www.pcusa.org/pcnews/2009/09829.htm

Daily Dose of Calvin III

2009-09-24T09:37:00.000-05:00

The expression, being not weak in faith, take in this sense — that he vacillated not, nor fluctuated, as we usually do under difficult circumstances. There is indeed a twofold weakness of faith — one is that which, by succumbing to trying adversities, occasions a falling away from the supporting power of God — the other arises from imperfection, but does not extinguish faith itself: for the mind is never so illuminated, but that many relics of ignorance remain; the heart is never so strengthened, but that much doubting cleaves to it. Hence with these vices of the flesh, ignorance and doubt, the faithful have a continual conflict, and in this conflict their faith is often dreadfully shaken and distressed, but at length it comes forth victorious; so that they may be said to be strong even in weakness. - John Calvin, commenting on Romans 4:19

Daily Dose of Calvin II

2009-09-23T08:57:00.000-05:00

18. Who against hope believed in hope, that he might become the father of many nations, according to that which was spoken, So shall thy seed be. If we thus read, the sense is, that when there was no probable reason, yea, when all things were against him, he yet continued to believe. And, doubtless, there is nothing more injurious to faith than to fasten our minds to our eyes, that we may from what we see, seek a reason for our hope. We may also read, “above hope,” and perhaps more suitably; as though he had said that by his faith he far surpassed all that he could conceive; for except faith flies upward on celestial wings so as to look down on all the perceptions of the flesh as on things far below, it will stick fast in the mud of the world. But Paul uses the word hope twice in this verse: in the first instance, he means a probable evidence for hoping, such as can be derived from nature and carnal reason; in the second he refers to faith given by God; for when he had no ground for hoping he yet in hope relied on the promise of God; and he thought it a sufficient reason for hoping, that the Lord had promised, however incredible the thing was in itself. - John Calvin, commenting on Romans 4:18

Another Missional Presbytery

2009-09-18T11:00:00.001-05:00

This sounded interesting: http://www.pcusa.org/missionyearbook/Sep/18.htm

Daily Dose of Calvin

2009-09-18T10:43:00.001-05:00

We have here also a type and a pattern of the call of us all, by which our beginning is set before our eyes, not as to our first birth, but as to the hope of future life, — that when we are called by the Lord we emerge from nothing; for whatever we may seem to be we have not, no, not a spark of anything good, which can render us fit for the kingdom of God. That we may indeed on the other hand be in a suitable state to hear the call of God, we must be altogether dead in ourselves. The character of the divine calling is, that they who are dead are raised by the Lord, that they who are nothing begin to be something through his power. The word call ought not to be confined to preaching, but it is to be taken, according to the usage of Scripture, for raising up; and it is intended to set forth more fully the power of God, who raises up, as it were by a nod only, whom he wills. - John Calvin, Commenting on Romans 4:17

The Alban Institute - 2009-08-31 The Bivocational Congregation

2009-08-28T08:04:00.000-05:00

This is worth reading, from the Alban Institute:
The Alban Institute - 2009-08-31 The Bivocational Congregation

Craddock on Preaching III

2009-08-21T15:27:00.001-05:00

Here's my summary of what Fred Craddock had to say about preaching after watching the four-video series:
1. Get into the text: study, reflect, consult commentaries, etc.--go into the strange world of the Bible
2. Get out of the text: interpret: what does it mean today?
3. Get a message that can be put into one declarative sentence; if you have more than one from a particular text, choose the one that fits you, the congregation, and the occasion, and save the others for another time.
4. Craft a sermon: start with the message (see #3) and use that as your conclusion; otherwise you'll use up all your good stuff in the beginning

Craddock on Preaching II

2009-08-19T14:37:00.002-05:00

Just watched the third tape in the Fred Craddock series; this one is called "Arriving at a Message." The fascinating part was watching him work through the text (John 19:31-37, surely a text that is seldom preached; it is not in the Lectionary) and ask himself questions about it. He actually arrived at not one, but three possible messages. He chose one ("don't try to do all three") and told us that if we saved our notes in a file we would have the other two messages whenever we came back to that text.

I sorta do it that way, but not nearly so well.

Craddock on Preaching

2009-08-19T09:16:00.004-05:00

I try to read a book on preaching about once a year, just to see what other people are saying, and to re-energize my own preaching. This year, though, I'm watching a set of videos I scored from the Presbytery office. They were among the leftovers from when we maintained a resource center.

Anyway, the videos are a series of lectures the legendary Fred Craddock gave in 1986. The first was "getting into the text," and the second, "getting out of the text." In the latter, he talks about something I had never considered: the fear of interpretation. He noted that there are some preachers who say, "I don't interpret the Bible, I just tell people what it says." And of course we should be legitimately concerned lest we substitute our interpretation for the meaning of the text. But Craddock emphasizes that interpretation is an essential part of our calling as pastors and preachers, as it is of many callings.

Parents, for example, interpret to their children all the time. "What's that noise?" "It's just the wind making the tree branch brush against the window. Go back to sleep." Doctors interpret all the time. "I've had this pain in the small of my back for about two months now. What is it?" Craddock says that an uninterpreted pain is the worst pain of all. If I know it's cancer, I can deal with it. It's not knowing that's the hard part, and we need the doctor's interpretation.

In case we're not convinced, Craddock goes on to point out that Scripture interprets Scripture. It's the living text of Scripture, and the work of the Holy Spirit, that keeps us from substituting our own interpretation for what the Bible actually says--at least on our best days.

Humor in Calvin?

2009-07-24T14:28:00.002-05:00

Two weeks ago at the Calvin Jubilee at Montreat, I was in a Q&A session with Randall Zachman, an Episcopalian who teaches Reformation Studies at Notre Dame (really!) when someone asked, "Did Calvin have a sense of humor?" Zachman simply answered, "no." And I have to confess I don't much humor in Calvin; joy, yes, but no humor, except of the cutting, sarcastic kind.

However, today, while looking at Calvin's comments on John 6, I noted this sentence: "Christ did not provide great delicacies for the people, but they who saw his amazing power displayed in that supper, were obliged to rest satisfied with barley-bread and fish without sauce." There's a Frenchman for you! The greatest hardship he can imagine is going without sauce. I don't know if Calvin intended it to be funny, but I think he just might have.

Multi-site pastors

2009-07-15T15:04:00.002-05:00

I was intrigued by John Pehrson's piece in the e-news for today about "multi-site pastors," i.e. pastors who oversee the life and ministry of a local congregation but who leave the preaching to a video feed from a "tall steeple" (or more likely "megachurch") preacher. Like John, I don't know what to think about this phenomenon. My first reaction is that the best preaching is done by preachers who know the congregations they are preaching to. (I heard Tom Long say this at a workshop once) But there are many gifted pastors who are not gifted preachers, and their gifts might be put to better use if they were delivered from the burden of weekly preaching. I wonder if this model might be modified to something like this: a cluster of churches who are served by a group of Ministers of Word and Sacrament and Commissioned Lay Pastors, with one of the group designated as The Preacher, with his/her sermons shared via video from one of the congregations. Ideally, each congregation would take it in turn to host the preaching. This would preserve the personal contact. Obviously the technical aspects would have to be worked out, but the idea interests me.

Calvin Jubilee

2009-07-14T11:17:00.001-05:00

Just back from the Calvin Jubilee at Montreat. If you want to read more about it (from the Presbyterian News Service's newest reporter), here's a link: http://www.pcusa.org/pcnews/2009/09595.htm

Last Quotation from Urban Holmes

2009-07-07T10:03:00.000-05:00

It is altogether remarkable that priests and pastors can become so inarticulate on the subject of the heart of their vocation: its relation to the spiritual life. I recall a woman who was the chairperson of a parish search committee telling me that her bishop suggested one question to ask prospective pastors: “Do you believe in God?” She was amazed at the advice, but followed it. I asked her what she found out and her reply was that, while all candidates said they did, she concluded that some in fact did not believe in God.
A nonnegotiable assumption in my judgment is not only that the ordained person believes in God, but that he or she seeks a relationship with God. Any other idea renders the notion of vocation absurd. The conversation begins with what it means to be on that quest. The pivotal point of this study's definition of spirituality is the broadened or heightened consciousness of the gift of our relationship with God. In one sense this is what is meant by knowing God: sharing his vision for creation. There is no methodology for guaranteeing that such a new consciousness will be forthcoming, but there are two thousand years of Christian teaching on how to become vulnerable to the possibility of such knowledge. - Urban T. Holmes, Spirituality for Ministry p.188, emphasis in the original

This is Cool if you like old books

2009-07-07T08:25:00.002-05:00

The British Museum has put the complete text of Codex Sinaiticus, the world's oldest Christian Bible, online at http://codexsinaiticus.org/en/ Even if you can't read it, it's cool to look at.

What I'm Reading Today

2009-07-06T09:54:00.001-05:00

People say they like these posts, so I'll keep making them...

Clergy are a guilty lot. We are torn between our fondness for the adventure of intuitive insight and the need to justify ourselves empirically. Frustration turns to anger and skepticism becomes cynicism. We fall into that hallowed American custom of solving our dilemma by working just that much harder, which is exacerbated by the expectation that we are an unceasing source of love, compassion, tenderness, and comfort. That which feeds the pastor is passed over, largely because we think we need to spend the time making evident our own value to the people who expect our ministry. We become burned out, bored, disillusioned, and guilty over our failure...
What is called for is spiritual companionship, in which in some configuration we are willing to be confronted at the point of our life of prayer. - Urban T. Holmes, Spirituality for Ministry p.177

More from Urban Holmes

2009-06-29T10:54:00.000-05:00

Many a pastor is dashed against one of two sets of rocks. He or she comes to be a hired flunky, on the one hand, a functionary chaplain to the establishment, or, on the other hand, he or she assumes the role of a petulant adolescent, working out his or her hostility upon the unwitting congregation. We excuse the former on the grounds that we are pastors, and we argue for the latter by claiming to be prophets. The truth of the matter is often neither one nor the other, but that we are spiritually bankrupt.
The dangers of these alternative courses to disaster are relatively well known in ministry studies. The solutions found in continuing education, consultation, and career evaluation are valuable, but they can easily lack the one ingredient essential to the vocation: a growing awareness of God’s purpose for us. The intention to live as a symbol and symbol-bearer of that which transcends as well as incorporates our secular expertise. This cannot be accomplished unless we steer through the straits between these Scylla and Charybdis of ministry guided by a living relationship with the Lord we profess to serve. - Urban T. Holmes, Spirituality for Ministry, p.171, emphasis in the original

New Idea

2009-06-18T11:41:00.002-05:00

This is a new idea to me (even though I had read this book before-must have missed this page), and I'm interested in anyone's comments:

Not infrequently clergy are caught up in the evil that threatens every congregation because they have no ability to discern what in fact is happening. Illustrations abound: adultery, greed, cowardice, and omnipotence. But the sin to which ordained persons are particularly given is envy. - Urban T. Holmes, Spirituality for Ministry, p.158

John Calvin in USA Today

2009-05-17T21:48:00.002-05:00

A friend sent me a copy of USA Today with an article by Henry Brinton, pastor of Fairfax Presbyterian Church in Virginia. The title of the article? "Calvin Saw this Coming." Here's a link to the online version: http://blogs.usatoday.com/oped/2009/05/calvin-saw-this-coming.html#more

Worship Resources from the UCC

2009-04-29T17:24:00.001-05:00

Those looking for worship resources (and who isn't?) might like to check out the United Church of Christ's worship page, which has lectionary-based resources for each Sunday of the year at http://www.ucc.org/worship/worship-ways/

Nancy Profit in "These Days"

2009-04-09T11:15:00.001-05:00

I see the Rev. Nancy Profit, formerly a member of the Odebolt church, is the writer for April 5-11 in These Days magazine.

Sentence Introducing the Offering

2009-03-30T09:04:00.001-05:00

Here's something from my current book (see other posts) that you might be able to use as a sentence introducing the offering--at least that's how I plan to use it:

We are only a very small part of history and have only one short life to live, but when we take the fruits of our labor in our hands and stretch our arms to God in the deep belief that He hears us and accepts our gifts, then we know that all of our life is given, given to celebrate. - Henri Nouwen, Creative Ministry p.110

2009-03-25T09:44:00.002-05:00

Still working my way through Creative Ministry by Henri Nouwen, published in 1971. The following passage seemed timely, again with no attempt made to make the language inclusive:

We live in a culture in which the words of Jesus: “Do not worry about tomorrow, tomorrow will take care of itself” (Mt. 6:34) sound beautiful and romantic, but completely unrealistic. We live in such a utilitarian society that even our most intimate moments have become subject to the question: “What is the purpose of it?”

Modern man does not just eat and drink but has business lunches and fund-raising dinners. He does not just go horseback riding or swimming—he also invites his companions to do a little business on horseback or even in the pool. He does not just exercise his body or listen to beautiful songs, but he also has become involved in a tremendous industry of sports and music. And he always keeps on believing that the real thing is going to happen tomorrow. In this kind of life the past has degenerated into a series of used or misused opportunities, the present into a constant concern about accomplishments, and the future into a make-believe paradise where man hopes to finally receive what he always wanted but the existence of which he basically doubts.

A life like this cannot be celebrated because we are constantly concerned with changing it into something else, always trying to do something to it, get something out of it, and make it fit our many plans and projects. We go to meetings, conferences, and congresses. We critically evaluate our part, discuss how to do ti better in the future, and worry whether or not our great design will ever work out.

Our culture is a working, hurrying, and worrying culture with many opportunities except the opportunity to celebrate life. - Henri Nouwen, Creative Ministry, pp.101f., my emphasis

Lenten Reflections from Henri Nouwen

2009-03-06T09:58:00.001-06:00

Ran across this today in Henri Nouwen's Creative Ministry. See what you think. I have not tried to make the language inclusive.

So the identity of the pastor, as it becomes visible in his pastoral care, is born from the intangible tension between self-affirmation and self-denial, self-fulfillment and self-emptying, self-realization and self-sacrifice. There are periods in life in which the emphasis is more on the one than on the other, but in general it seems that as a man becomes more mature he will become less concerned with girding himself and more willing to stretch out his hands and to follow Him who found His life by losing it.

Cluster Meetings

2009-03-04T12:07:00.001-06:00

Our Mission Design calls for the Clusters to meet at least twice a year. I know that the Ministers and Commissioned Lay Pastors in all the Clusters are now meeting at least on a semi-regular basis, and some are meeting very regularly. I, for one, don't want that to change. But what we are hoping for in the new Mission Design is for closer connections between the churches. The Cluster meetings we are calling for will be for all members of the churches in each Cluster.

Why should we meet in this way when we already have so many meetings? Here's why:

1.To meet people from the other churches in the cluster so we can have a sense of who else is in our area
2.To celebrate what is going well in our churches
3.To share difficulties we are having right now
4.To encourage each other
5.To explore how we might work together
6.To worship together

As you think about it, you may come up with more and better reasons. When you do get together, here is a suggested agenda. You will need someone to host the meeting: call people together at the appointed time, welcome them, start off the process, and bring the discussion to a close at the appointed time. I suggest that a meeting like this should take no more than 90 minutes, and that the ending time should be stated in the invitation.

1.Gather
1.Have food available as people come in. Nothing brings people together quite like eating.
2.Have name tags. Consider color-coding the tags so that people can be identified by churches
2.Open with prayer
3.Introductions; use some kind of get-acquainted activity.
4.Go around the room; each representative share one thing that they are excited about in their church. It's OK to pass, but be prepared to come back to those who pass, as someone else's sharing may trigger an idea.
5.Go around the room again; each representative share one thing they are concerned about in their church
6.Open the floor up to general discussion: how can we encourage each other? Are there things we could do together?
7.Set a place and time for the next Cluster meeting. Possibly recruit a planning team of no more than three or four people to come up with a theme and agenda for that meeting.
8.Close with a short worship service of Scripture, prayer, and singing. This is important; too often our “meeting prayers” are short and perfunctory. It's essential for us to take time to worship together.

Feel free to adapt this agenda to your own needs. For example, you may have a specific project that your Cluster is interested in and you may want to take time to present that and get feedback.

One more thing: an agenda is a servant, not a master. When we invite the Holy Spirit in, we don't always know in advance where that Spirit will take us. Be open! God is doing new things in the Presbytery of Prospect Hill, and we have a great opportunity to be part of them.

Richard Francis, Moderator, Mission Coordinating Team

Virtual Sunday School

2009-02-26T10:57:00.002-06:00

For the last year and a half we have had an adult Sunday school class focused on current events at Third Presbyterian Church. In January the opportunity came up for our current events class to join the other adult Sunday School class in its new study. While many in the current events class were in favor of joining the other class, they really enjoyed the current events discussion and did not want to lose those conversations. As we discussed different options for continuing our current events discussions, we came up with the idea of having a virtual Sunday school class. While we no longer have a current events class that physically meets together on Sunday mornings our discussions are continuing by blog. The current topic is emailed out to class members each Thursday afternoon. After reading the article class members are encouraged to go to the blog and post their thoughts. Now instead of having Sunday school available one hour a week, it is available 24-7.
Technology is playing a larger role in our society every day. However, many of our congregations utilize very little technology in worship and programming. What role, if any, do you think technology should have in the church today? What are the pros and cons of offering things like virtual Sunday School classes? In what ways could technology be used to better meet the spiritual needs of all the generations served by the church today? I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

New Calvin Video

2009-02-17T08:27:00.002-06:00

Just finished viewing the new video John Calvin His Life and Legacy, produced by Witherspoon Press and distributed through the Presbyterian Distribution Service (http://www.pcusa.org/marketplace/item.list.jsp), and I highly recommend it. It features a number of scholars and pastors from several traditions and institutions talking with great animation about Calvin's impact on his world and ours. Well worth adding to your church's library.

Confirmation

2009-02-09T12:57:00.002-06:00

I'm looking for some help with Confirmation resources.

This fall I'll be leading a joint Confirmation class of 7th and 8th graders. Since Westside is a union church (PCUSA/UCC) I don't want to use denominational materials. What experience has everyone had with, for example, the Logos Confirmation materials?

And while we're on the subject of Confirmation: I've always been an advocate of a fairly short-term (8-10 week) Confirmation program, but both Vail and Westside had been running two-year programs. I did a one-year program in 2007-2008 and was pretty happy with it. What philosophies are out there in PHP?

Thank You

2009-02-09T09:51:00.001-06:00

Thank you to Westlawn Presbyterian Church for hosting the February 7, 2009 Presbytery meeting.

Mission Trips

2009-02-03T10:50:00.002-06:00

With all the snow on the ground it is hard to think about summer, but summer will be here before we know it and many of our churches will head out on youth and adult mission trips. Please share your mission trip experiences with us. What was the greatest mission trip your church every took? Why? For a church looking for a mission trip what sites can you recommend. Where are you going on your mission trip this summer? Do you have room for people from other churches to join your group?