Monday, December 21, 2009
The Longest Night
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.
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.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Snow Daze
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.
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.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Thoughts from the Grinch
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Calvin on the Spirit's Help
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
Monday, November 30, 2009
Time Management
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?
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?
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Do All Dogs Go to Heaven? What Calvin Thinks
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
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
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