Pine River Pastor

Failing

2011-03-29T12:54:00.003-06:00

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
he restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths
for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff—
they comfort me. (Psalm 23:1-4)

If anyone is actually reading this, you may have noticed that – in spite of my Lenten resolution to post devotionally each week – last week’s post wasn’t put up until this week. I failed.

“Oh, that’s okay, Brian,” people might say. “No one is perfect.” “We all make mistakes.” “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” These sayings are heartfelt, comforting, and completely beside the point. I failed. I said I was going to do something and I didn’t. As a part of my journey through Lent, I felt called to reflect once weekly about some small thing that God was saying to me through Scriptures and I couldn’t get it done on time. And I don’t even have an excuse. I simply didn’t manage my time very well and, although I got started on it last week, I didn’t get it done until this week. Mission not-accomplished; there’s just no way around it.

Frankly, it reminds me of a lot of other Lenten resolutions I’ve failed at in my life. In fact, there seems to be a reoccurring theme: I begin Lent with great and pious resolve to do something or fast from something and then fail at it part-way through. It makes me wonder if, maybe, that’s part of the point. Not that failure ought to be the goal of this kind of pilgrimage, but perhaps it should be at least expected. It seems a bit self-defeatist, but maybe I should have entered into Lent with some sort of plan in place for how I ought to respond when I (inevitably) fall short of my goal. Perhaps a sealed envelope with the words “TO BE OPENED IN CASE OF FAILURE” written on it and “All fall short of God’s glory (Romans 3:23)” written inside. You know, something to help me remember that this kind of thing happens in life and that I shouldn’t be too hard on myself. Or better yet, I should have Psalm 23 waiting for me.

In Psalm 23, the psalmist describes God as our shepherd… making us the sheep. We are these beloved, adorable, furry sheep who are also vulnerable, disobedient, and not bright enough to find our own food and water. If God is our shepherd it’s because we need a shepherd. At least spiritually speaking, we need someone who loves us enough to faithfully lead us where we may not always want to go on our own. And in my shortcomings, rather than feeling guilty or disregarding my failings as simply part of life, perhaps it would be better for me to use these failings as a reminder of the Shepherd who restores my soul and returns me to right paths. May we continue to find our Good Shepherd throughout our Lenten journey… even when we fail at it.

Labels

2011-03-29T10:52:00.005-06:00

So Jesus came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon. A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” (John 4:5-10, NRSV)

Early in the week a coffee maker broke. I set it up to make a pot, and nothing happened: it didn’t gurgle; it didn’t steam up; it didn’t even get warm. Nothing. Now before you get worried about me, please note that we have several coffee pots at the church. I survived just fine.

But I didn’t want to be overly rash and just throw it out. I’ve made the mistake of throwing things away prematurely before (see “Moving Part 2”) so, although I’m far from being a packrat, I now pause for a bit before heading for the trash. So I left it on the counter in the hope that there might be some simple fix that someone handier than I might find. But, because I just left it on the counter and didn’t want anyone trying to make coffee with a broken coffee maker, I labeled it: “Broken.”

I immediately felt guilty for the label. I know that the coffee maker doesn’t care and would be just as happy if I threw it in the trash. But I’ve been labeled “broken” before. I know what happens with these labels: we may disregard them for a while, but they do eventually change the ways we see ourselves. Even beyond what might actually be true about a person, I think if you call them “broken” long enough they will begin to believe it at some point. Soon, we will wear these labels like nametags.

There are a lot of labels flying around in the Gospel lesson for the 3rd Sunday of Lent. Some of them are spoken: labels like “Jew,” “Samaritan,” “Messiah,” and “Living Water.” Some of them are not spoken because they’re not appropriate for polite company. The woman Jesus meets knows these labels. They define her. She presumably comes to draw water in the heat of the day because her presence would cause offence at a more common hour. Her labels shape who she is and even how she lives.

But Jesus doesn’t seem to notice her labels. He doesn’t seem to see what others see. He talks to her like he is supposed to be talking to her and not as someone labeled with “Samaritan,” “woman,” or “sinner.” And it strikes me that there is a labeling in this act as well, although I’m not sure what that new label might say. Perhaps it would say “child of God,” or “forgiven,” or maybe this conversation is Jesus’ way of offering her the label of “true worshiper.”

Whatever you’d call this new label it’s wonderful. It is wonderful because it is truer than all those other labels. It’s wonderful because it is the Maker’s label that was meant to be on us since the day we were born and will remain with us forever. The labels Jesus puts on us aren’t just some hopeful description of who we are meant to be, but who we truly are in him: labels like “redeemed,” “beloved,” and “called.”

As we continue through this Lenten journey, let us seek to remove those other labels from ourselves and one another. Let us be named by Jesus alone and let us live into the wonderful labels he gives us.

Labels

2011-03-29T10:52:00.001-06:00

Reflection for the Second Week of Lent

2011-03-17T11:30:00.003-06:00

Jesus answered Nicodemus, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nicodemus said to Jesus, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” (John 3:3-4 NRSV)

Before I became a father, men who had traveled the parenting road before me described the birthing process as “magical.” I now know what they meant. You see, “magical” is a euphemism. It’s a kind of code they used because, if they had described it for what it was, I might have been scared off. Don’t get me wrong, “magical” is the perfect word to describe it. “Magical” is so spot-on because it only tells the soon-to-be father that it’s important, perhaps even holy. And anything else about the event that could be described probably shouldn’t be. It’s a way of saying, “Be there; be ready for the mysterious; don’t run away; and you’ll figure out the rest as you go.”

And I suppose, if the newly-born had the capacity to understand those trembling fathers’ words, “magical” might well describe all of the baby’s following days as well. The rest of our days can be pretty “magical” too, if you think about it. Of course, we don’t like to think about it, do we? We like to think that tomorrow will be much like yesterday, and today will hold no surprises. We like to think that the rain that falls from the sky only brings life and pretty flowers. We like to think that the earth beneath our feet is there to stay. We like to think that our days of being born – with all their terror, pain, and ugliness – are far behind us. But some days are “magical.” Some days, the skies take whole towns from our maps. Some days, the earth on which we are “grounded” flings us into the air like a marble on a fluffed-up sheet. Some days, we get born all over again.

When Nicodemus goes to visit Jesus under the cover of night, we get the impression that he’s testing Jesus’ kingdom out – not unlike the way we might dip a toe into a pool before going for a swim. He seems attracted to what Jesus has to offer, but he wants to approach it in a safe way. But it’s not safe. In fact it’s full-blown “magical.” One does not take a quick dip into the kingdom of God; one is born anew into it. Born like people are born: into a life of uncertainty and messiness.

For those of us who have chosen to live in Jesus’ kingdom, we must remember that it holds no promises for success, prosperity, or even safety; but it is the promise of life. We are born into a life that, although abundant and eternal, is also “magical.” So let us greet this new-born life in the spirit with which we entered into the old one: be there; be ready for the mysterious; don’t run away; and you’ll figure out the rest (by God’s Spirit) as you go.

Reflection for the First Week of Lent

2011-03-10T14:11:00.007-07:00

So I'm cheating a bit with my first Lenten reflection, as the article below is from the latest Calvary Quarterly. But unlike a newsletter, a blog gives us an opportunity to offer feedback. I look forward to hearing from you.

I think Lent is generally self-serving. I said it.

Now, if you're wondering how I might come to describe Lent—a season beginning in ashes and “celebrated” by fasting—as self-serving, just hear me out: Lent, the “40 day” season that leads us to Easter, is often seen in the light of Easter. I mean, that's a difficult light to ignore. After all, Easter is the central celebration of our faith. The Resurrection changes everything: every moment, every interaction, every single thing we do is now seen through the lens of Resurrection. It would be ridiculous to expect that we could somehow set this lens aside for over a month. For the follower of Jesus, the Resurrection is impossible to ignore; Jesus emerging from the tomb on Easter morning changes everything... for US.

And rightly so! Don't get me wrong, the resurrection should shape every aspect of our lives. The Apostle Paul writes, “Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life” (1 Corinthians 6:4); out of his resurrected life, we now begin ours. That is life-changing good news for us. Because we have received this impossibly wonderful gift, what else could we do but live gratitude-filled lives into eternity?

And so, during Lent, we seek to reshape those lives. We seek, through self-reflection and self-sacrifice, to let God reshape our-selves into the God-serving creations that Jesus died and rose to create. And there is a lot of “self” in that; although not at all in a bad way. The end result is to make us into God-serving creatures, but to get there the “self” needs some work. Which is what makes Lent so self-serving: we are striving to be those God-centered people of Resurrection, so we use this time to do what we can to become those people.

But here's the thing: when we mentally skip ahead to what those people are supposed to be like, what do we see? We see a people who have become more and more like Jesus, don’t we? We see a people who not only act like he did, but are actually like him. We see a people who have his understanding of how the world is supposed to be; a people who share his priorities and passions; a people who love as he loved and for the same reasons. And if we know what we’re supposed to be like at the end of Lent, why not seek to begin it with that same Christ-like perspective? In other words, we know that Jesus endured the hardships that he did for the sake of others. We know that our lives are meant to take on that same devotion to others. And so, as we “endure” the solemn sacrifices and disciplines of Lent, what if we could focus our attention on someone other than ourselves?

For example, you know how the Resurrection is life-changing good news for us? Well, if becoming more Christ-like means having his same devotion to others, are we not struck by the notion that there are people in our lives every day that don’t know that news; people who don’t have the same perspective-changing joy that we have; there are people all around us every day who, though Jesus rose for them as well, do not share our Easter perspective.

And so, however you “celebrate” Lent—whatever disciplines, fasts, or acts of charity that you employ that God might mold you—may we also let those “hardships” turn our attention toward others. May we indeed better know the heart and mind of God, and in that knowledge, yearn to share the Easter joy with the world.

Another Good Question

2011-03-06T06:33:00.006-07:00

Here's the other email conversation I've had, this time from Chantel. Like many of us, Lent was not an observed celebration in her upbringing, so she asks:

I have a few questions I was hoping you could answer for me on Lent. I work with someone, who is a devout Mormon. We are always talking about religion on the playground for some reason. Anyway, I was talking to her today about Lent and what it means to me as a Christian and specifically as a Presbyterian and I realized I don't understand Ash Wednesday and the meaning behind it. She couldn't explain the Mormon's point of view too well either so I told her to ask at her church and I would ask you. Since I started so late in life believing in Jesus and his word I feel very behind on a lot of things and feel like I have so much to learn and try to understand about the Bible and Christianity. I would appreciate any help you may have time to give to me! Thank you very much and have a beautiful day!

So I responded:

Lent is kind of an odd practice. It began as an observance in the Catholic Church, but many Protestant churches have brought it back in the hope of finding new meanings to old practices. Like Advent before Christmas, it is meant to be a season of preparation. It begins, of course, on Ash Wednesday and concludes on or the night before Easter. That period is considered "40 days," but if you are good at math you'll note that it's more than that; technically it's only 40 days if you take out the Sundays (I said it was an odd practice).

The "40" in the 40 days finds significance in several places in Scripture. For example:

Number of days that Noah and his family endured the flood (see Genesis 7)
Number of years the Israelites endured the wilderness (see Numbers 14:34-35)
Number of days that Jesus endured temptation in the wilderness (see Matthew 4:1-11)

When something happens in the Bible that involves the number 40, it seems that God is trying us somehow; the people of God endure something and are better for it in the end. So for 40 days before Easter, we seek a period of testing and growth. When Jesus did it, it involved a 40 day fast (not recommended) so many have traditionally included fasting as a Lenten practice. By the way, that's why we take out the Sundays: we've given ourselves a "day off" per week to enjoy whatever we've given up. I think that's kind of silly.

Of course we Protestants like to find new meanings so, rather than giving up a thing for Lent, some have taken on practices to enhance their Lenten journey. Things like service, study, worship, etc. (if you're interested in exploring various spiritual practices, I'd recommend "Celebration of Discipline" by Richard Foster).
But to the heart of your question, Ash Wednesday: first, although I can't speak to the meaning a Mormon might find in it, I would assume that it's similar to what we might find. However, it is a deeply symbolic service and as such, the symbolism can mean a variety of things to a variety of people.
To do it properly, the ashes in Ash Wednesday come from the burnt palm leaves of the previous year's Palm Sunday. In other words, the palms that we waved to hail Jesus as our God-sent king, have become merely ashes. There is a cycle-of-life message that weighs heavy in this service. When the ashes are put on one's forehead, the pastor/priest quotes Genesis 3:19: "You are dust and to dust you will return." By the way, that's not a very nice thing to have to say to people you care about. But I think it's meant to draw us to consider throughout Lent, where we would be without Easter. We remember our sinful state and the death it brings so that we might appreciate all the more the abundant life we find on Easter morning. I have other thoughts on some less traditional Lenten ideas, but I'm putting them in my Quarterly article, so you can read it there.

I appreciate your questions and your journey and I too would love to sit down and chat with you more about these things. Don't worry so much about not understanding everything the Bible has to teach us; at its core, Christianity is simply about following Jesus. And following means simply being in relationship with him and letting that relationship transform you. And sharing it is simply introducing another to a friend.

If you have a similar thought-provoking question, I'd love to hear it. I will always ask before I post your question and I can always keep you anonymous if you'd prefer.

A Question About Prayer

2011-03-04T15:03:00.007-07:00

Hey All, remember me? Things have been a little hectic since my last post (in September). I put up this blog as a way of talking about the work of the church in Bayfield (and beyond, I suppose). And although I think a lot about the work Christ calls us to do here, I regret that I don't write about it as much as I'd like to. (As a Lenten discipline, I plan to post something every week and I hope it becomes a habit.)

That being said, I have recently had some interesting questions posed to me via email. After thinking through and writing out my responses, it occurred to me that they kind of sounded like the stuff I ought to be posting on my blog.

So here's the first. It comes from Lisa S. (with contribution from her husband Jim). Lisa writes:

Pastor Brian, I have a question I have been pondering over for a number of years. Bear with me as I try to find the missing piece to this puzzle. The bottom line to the question is … Does the greater number of people praying for a situation affect the overall outcome? It seems like the answer should automatically be yes, but should it? What started me on my road of confusion was a comment a well known Christian man made a number of years ago when his wife was ailing from cancer. He didn’t understand how his wife, receiving hundreds if not thousands of prayers, should receive more blessings than someone else in a similar situation, but not as fortunate to have fame and notoriety. Does someone who receives more prayers get more comfort from God? So does the individual who knows only a few people and also has cancer receive less comfort? We pray to God for his will to be done, but does he change the direction of his healing because 100,000 people are praying for this individual as oppose to one? I don’t believe it for a second. Is the power of prayer the same if one person is praying or 100?

We have prayer chains. Does it help to have 5 or 50? If I thought numbers made a difference I would place an ad in the Wall Street Journal asking for prayers. If the actual number of people praying doesn’t matter than I can’t help but come to the conclusion that it isn’t about numbers. I believe in the power of prayer. Great miracles happen through prayer. It’s an expression of ones heart. Putting your troubles at Gods feet is what we as Christians do. God asks us to pray to him for the blessings we have received in our lives and those who are in need. When we pray for someone in need we too are the ones receiving blessings.

So it is not about numbers. So when we ask for prayers it’s an invitation for the individuals who are praying to be blessed and to have a relationship with God. So the prayee gets the blessing. But how does the individual in need get the blessing from God when numbers don’t matter?
I feel like I going in circles.

So I wrote:

Lisa, the questions you raise about prayer are not uncommon. I think these questions about prayer are so often asked because they are also so difficult to answer definitively. We are not God and so we're not able to fully explain why God does what God does. What troubles me most about prayer--especially about prayer for someone's healing--is that sometimes miracles do happen. Kyra is actually a good example of this: when Sherry was pregnant with Kyra, her water broke at about 19 weeks. The doctor said that nothing could be done: the amniotic sack does not heal up so the baby would eventually miscarry; so the best course of action would be to induce labor before an infection could set in. On the day of the procedure, Sherry wasn't ready. She told the doctor that they could do it at the first sign of infection, but she just couldn't do it. Meanwhile, church friends and family around the world were praying for Sherry and the baby. And as the days went by, the sack did indeed heal back up (a feat the doctor could not find other examples of) and you've met the evidence of what eventually happened.

Now comes the complicated part: explaining why this happened. To the godless, I suppose it could be rightly stated that the natural world is vastly more complex than we suppose. But it's not so simple for us. We know the privilege of a personal relationship with the God of all creation. We see that same Creator's hand in events like this... what we can't always see is why. Why did God spare my baby? Babies die in the womb all the time; why this one? Was it because so many were fervently praying for her? Maybe. Maybe it was the earnest, heartfelt nature of their prayers. For that matter, what if it were my prayers? What if God was waiting on me to finally surrender and leave everything, even my children, at the feet of God? But in the end, these are not questions I can know the answers to; and for me, that's kind of the conclusion I've come to.

For me, prayer isn't about bending God's will to conform to mine, it's about yielding my will to God's. I know that when two or more are gathered in our Savior's name, he is present in a unique way. That doesn't mean he is not present when I am alone or that he is super-present when I'm praying with a stadium filled with his followers either. It doesn't guarantee the answer to prayer that I may have been hoping for, but it is the promise of presence. I think you're absolutely right: we need prayer because God uses prayer to be present with us, if only through the comforting presence of the one-or-more kneeling next to us on our behalf.

Why do we pray for the needs of others? Because God is present with them when we do. Oh, and because sometimes miracles happen; sometimes prayer fixes our gaze on something just long enough to see the impossible made possible. But for me that's just the icing.

Lisa's response:

Excellent. This is what I was getting close to figuring out, but couldn’t grasp it. Like you said “we need prayer because God uses prayer to be present with us, if only through the comforting presence of the one-or-more kneeling next to us on our behalf”. I will reread your response in days to come and let it sink in. I will probably have more questions for you. I like the way you are able to tie it all together.

What a wonderful story of lil Kyra and how she is your miracle baby. It warmed my heart.

Then Jim chimed in with:

Great question, and great thoughts on the subject of prayer. I think, as with so many examples of Gods work, prayer is a multifaceted gem with many benefits for all involved. Probably one of the most poignant, and well worth mentioning is that after the “fall of man” God abandoned this world and gave it over to Satan. Instead of God walking with man in the cool of the evening in the garden we are called to wait on the Holy Spirit.

God still desires relationship with his people, but I think it’s like when we go onto someone’s property we generally prefer to either be invited or ask to come on to it. Although we would be capable, if we wanted to, just to trespass and barge on. I think God deeply desires relationship with his people and finds it very pleasing to be invited.

Even though there are so many more facets of this gem to be explored I think that this aspect is one that has great significance in our walk.

Please feel free to throw in your $.02 as well in the comments section. I'd love to hear from more of you on this.

Infidel!

2010-09-02T10:55:00.003-06:00

I heard the word “infidel” used in a news story this morning and it got me thinking. Here’s how Webster’s defines it: “disbelieving Christianity or whatever may be the religion of the user of the word.” Another way to put it: we’re all infidels. No matter what we believe, we’re all infidels to someone else. We are all unfaithful to someone else’s God, by definition, if we believe in another God (and I suppose that’s especially true if you don’t believe in God at all). No way around it; you are an infidel, I am an infidel, and most importantly, they are infidels.

Some have tried philosophically to get around this uncomfortable truth by pointing out that God might not actually care which religious institution we identify with. After all, we are not God and, in just about every religious system, at least one of God’s attributes is love. So if God loves humanity, perhaps that love will outweigh whatever errors of belief we might have.

But as nice as that sounds, it unfortunately doesn’t change a thing; you are still an infidel. You are an infidel because I have The Truth: I am a follower of Jesus; you know, “The way, the truth, and the life.” I have this specific news about how to be in good standing with God and it doesn’t overtly say anything about “other paths.” I may hope that God’s love is unconditional and universal, but I would truly be an infidel if I neglected God’s plan for salvation as I have received it.

So infidels we remain. As long as we each have The Truth and our Truths disagree with each other, at least one of us is going to be an infidel.

But here’s my thought for the day: the notion of “infidel” is inherently ungodly. It’s ungodly in two senses of the word: first, it’s ungodly in that we are not God. When we declare someone else to be an infidel, we are doing so from a limited, human perspective. Although we have an obligation to God to live our lives and worship practices in a way we know is pleasing to God, we don’t actually know that the practices of others are not, in fact, pleasing to God.

But also, the notion of “infidel” is ungodly because it results in our turning our attention away from a godly life: a life lived in relationship with God. When we identify another as an infidel, it is their faith, lifestyle, and worship practices we are concerned with, not ours. Now obviously there are those who violently disagree with my thinking here, but I believe that the whole point of religion is to encourage the believer toward a deeper relationship with God. It has to do with helping each individual follower grow and sustain that relationship; concerning ourselves with how others are “not doing it right,” does not help us to be any closer to God.

Of course, even though it may be ungodly for me to concern myself with the faith practices of someone else, I am still called by God to care for that person. This is especially true if I believe I have The Truth that someone else does not have. But the question then becomes, how am I to share this Truth? Obviously, calling them an infidel has not historically been effective. No, I believe the only godly response is fidelity. We all, regardless of our religious beliefs, must remain as faithful to God as God enables us. There must not be disconnection between our lives and the God we speak about. Live what you believe with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength and let God be God.

But then, what do I know? I’m just an infidel.

Triplet Survey Results

2010-05-12T08:50:00.005-06:00

First of all, this survey is in no way scientific. The method we’ve used is meant to help us listen for the Spirit’s leading, not to pinpoint any measurable facts or even popular opinions. Here’s what we’ve done:

Between Christmas and Easter, nine Triplets met together a number of times. Recognizing the presence of Christ in those meetings, the groups got to know each other and talked as the Spirit led.
Toward the end of this time, the Triplets were asked to respond to the following questions: 1) How would you describe us as a church? 2) What do you imagine God is calling us to do in this church and in our community?
Six of the groups sent in responses.
The organizing team (made up of a moderator, the pastor, and three other members, chosen by the Session) read through the responses, looking for themes that arose from the responses.

Here’s what we saw:
How do we describe ourselves as a church?
We are a family, centered around the Good News of Jesus Christ
who enjoy a traditional style of worship
and seek to be friendly, caring and accepting of
those within and outside of our church walls.
What do we imagine God is calling us to do in this church and community?
There were two obvious calls: to reach out to those (mostly younger families) in our community and to care for the needs of our (mostly older) members. As the team discussed these results, it became evident that these two themes may be a single calling

Unless the participants in this process have strong objections to our summary, these results will be brought to the Session next. Our elders will be asked to consider these responses as they consider our image in the community and as they plan for our future. I am hopeful that this process will lead us to tangible actions that will guide our ministry for the next few years.

Also, there were a lot of great ideas that came up in the Triplet conversations. Feel free to either write out those suggestions to the Session directly or tell them to your favorite elder and let him or her pretend it was their idea.

There's Something About Betty

2010-05-03T11:37:00.002-06:00

If I seem a bit bleary-eyed on Sunday morning, it's because I will have stayed up too late on Saturday. You see, Betty White is hosting Saturday Night Live and I am not going to miss it; I have a thing for Bettys.

I met a friend's mom named Betty yesterday and said that to her. I immediately realized that I should probably explain myself so she didn't think I was hitting on her: I have never met a woman named Betty in a church that wasn't awesome. I qualify that statement with "in a church" because I don't want to be presumptuous; perhaps there are Bettys in this world that are awful people who don't go to church. But at the same time, I realize I don't have to; where else but in the church are you going to run into someone named Betty? It's one of those names that was big in its generation, but has since faded out a bit. You're not likely to meet, for example, a twenty year-old Betty. Sure, you'll meet an Elizabeth, or a Liz, or even a Beth; but Bettys are more and more becoming an endangered species. And of course, Bettys are of a generation where church was not an option.

I think my thing for Bettys started about fifteen to twenty years ago. I was working in a church that, like many, was having a bit of conflict. My personality has always wanted everyone to get along so it was stressful and difficult to stay out of other people's quarrels. There I was, training for church work, while all around me people were tense and upset... except for the Bettys. There were a couple of women named Betty who, for some reason, were able to rise above it all: they were supportive and always seemed happy to see me; they never spoke ill of anyone; and no matter what else was going on around them, they had an amazing ability to remain sweet, generous, and calm through it all. At the time, their example taught me a great deal about church conflict: namely that being right isn't all there is. Often (if not always), whatever we're arguing over is far less important than the love we are called to show one another.

At the time, those Bettys gave me an example of what I strive to be among my siblings in Christ. It wasn't until later that it became a "Betty thing." In the next church I worked in, it happened like this: I met a woman who was awesome and thought, "Wow, she reminds me of Betty." Sure enough, that was her name. Since then I've worked in several other churches and I've met Bettys in every one of them. And yes, they've all been awesome.

So I guess my point today is simply this: lets all strive to be a little more Betty... whether that's your name or not. And if your reoccurring example for living out the love of Jesus isn't named Betty, then feel free to insert their name here instead. And who knows, maybe in doing so your name might one day become synonymous to someone else of what is best about the church.

Churches Eat Their Young

2010-04-26T14:41:00.006-06:00

That’s going to end up as a sermon title. I just heard it during a conversation with a church member who was calling, among other things, to see if I was back to my normal, peppy self. I am; thanks for asking.

We were also chatting about the possible next steps regarding the Triplet adventure and other “visioning” processes that churches go through. I’ll be writing more about that for the quarterly newsletter, due out next week. But for today, this quote that has moved me to break my months-long blogging silence is certainly worth talking about. What my friend meant by “churches eat their young” was our tendency to load all of the work of the church on the few we deem are most capable of doing it. You know who I mean: younger, able-bodied people who may even still have that “new Christian smell” to them. And of course by “eat them” we mean we exhaust them.

It’s one of those lines that are funny because they’re true… only it’s not that funny. It happens all the time and not just in churches. It’s the 80/20 rule: 80% of the work is done by 20% of the people. It’s why rooms clear out like scurrying roaches in a truck-stop bathroom when the lights come on whenever someone starts “looking for a little help in setting up next week’s bake sale.” We know that if they get us for this, then they’ll get us for everything else that follows this and in three months we’ll be in charge of this for the rest of our lives.

Can I get an “amen?”

I know plenty of people who have left churches for exactly this reason. And why not? We don’t join congregations to be in charge of them. We join a church because God has done something in our lives that compels us to be there. Although at first we are eager to respond to God’s leading, doing everything was never part of the deal. But even though it is wrong for churches to expect the faithful few to carry the weight of the many, our initial eagerness to serve still remains the right response. However unfortunate it might be that we can eventually find ourselves being chewed up by our churches, doing nothing was never part of the deal either. The Risen Jesus is a game-changer. By his life we are not the same and avoiding eye-contact with the people who are trying to live out Christ’s ministry is not what Jesus had in mind for the church.

And so, herein lies our dilemma: Jesus calls us to action in and through the church. The problem is, not everyone seems to have gotten that message. And so, those who do get the message wind up doing more than their share.

From my perspective, there are three ways churches deal with this problem:

Do nothing. This is a very popular response. Let the 20% continue to do next to everything, expect that eventually they will burn out, and hopefully some fresh meat will turn up before it’s too late.
Do less. Nurture the 20% to do only what they can handle and if the other 80% doesn’t care enough (said in your mom’s most guilt-inspiring voice), “I suppose the work of Christ is going to have to take a back seat to whatever else they’ve got going on. Oh no, don’t worry about it; you run along. You’ve got important things to do. Jesus will make do somehow.”
Do more.

Do more, but stop letting someone else tell you what Christ’s ministry ought to be. Avoid volunteering and strive for Calling. Theoretically, volunteering is doing something that helps in someone else’s calling. That’s wonderful in short-term bursts of service; it’s rewarding and much appreciated. But Calling is where the real fun is. Calling is all about Christ at work in and through you. It’s about the person God has uniquely created you to be and the ways only you can serve him in the world. Calling is about volunteering because you know it’s for something you’ve been created to do or not volunteering because you know God has put you on another job.

In short, if you don’t want to be eaten by your church then do more of what Jesus calls you to do. Enjoy it, let others celebrate it with you, and never stop listening for what Christ might be calling you to next. And if you’re not sure what you might be called to, come by and see me; it’s one of the things I’m called to do.

A Sense of Urgency

2009-09-03T11:45:00.004-06:00

Well it's been while. My absence from this blog probably has more to do with my having too much on my mind rather than having nothing to say. Will Ferrell delivers a great line in the movie Blades of Glory: "Mind-bottling. You know, when things are so crazy it gets your thoughts all trapped, like in a bottle?" That's kind of how I've felt.

The good news is that most of my crazy, mind-bottling thoughts have been about Calvary. As Calvary's pastor, it's my job to think about our members, our future, and our faithfulness to Christ. And lately I've been trying to think better... so I've been letting others think with me.

In last Sunday's bulletin I asked the congregation to pray for six of our members. I'd rather not publish their names to the web, so if you missed the list, check the e-newsletter or email me. These six people -- which include me, four very diverse church members, and Bob, our local candidate for ministry -- make up what we're calling The Transformation Team. By the way, I'm open to suggestions on the title.

Bob is the moderator of the team, so I am free to simply be a member of it and have equal voice in it. The other members were chosen by the Session after I gave them an idea of what I intended to do and allowed them some time to pray about it. The team is reading and discussing a book called Pursuing the Full Kingdom Potential of Your Congregation by George Bullard. We've met twice and each of us have already been challenged by the ideas presented by the book and by God's Spirit. In short, this is already the most exhilarating and rewarding thing I've done in professional ministry.

Although these meetings need to be somewhat confidential to foster our honest communication, I do intend to share my thoughts on the process as often as I can when it relates to my own journey. And one of the first things I have been faced with is, why are we doing this? Since this was my idea, it may seem like a silly question. However, since my answer has changed at least a couple of times since first articulating these ideas, it's not a bad question too keep asking.

The short answer has always been, "Because I have a sense of urgency for my ministry at Calvary." I believe we all have a sense of urgency for our church and no two people's are exactly the same. Often our sense of urgency leads us down a path toward change, like if we see an absence of some demographic or a shrinking worship attendance or a desire to regain a former splendor. It's important to notice what gives us urgency in our church because it fuels our passion for ministry, it might explain why we're at odds with some of our siblings in Christ, and it may be the Spirit's way of nudging us. But it may not always be the best reason for congregational change.

A year ago, my urgency was about acknowledging the mistakes of my past in an effort to be the best pastor I can be. It was about me wanting us to be a growing, vital congregation. But in the end, it was really only about me. I wouldn't have been the first pastor to roll into a congregation with something to prove, but I'm glad God has given me a different sense of urgency. As I've begun to study with The Team, I've learned that the only sense of urgency that really works in the church is the urgency to be faithful to Christ's leading. All of those other things that get us moving in the life of the church may be true and honest reflections of who we are, but they need to take a back seat to the urgency of faithfulness.

So as I said on Sunday, please pray for the team; some transformational things are happening there already. Pray for our well being, the lessons we learn, and that we retain a faithful sense of urgency.

One Body, a Whole Lot of Parts

2009-06-14T12:53:00.005-06:00

Now that Vacation Bible School has been over for a couple of days and I've had a chance to rest, I'm finally able to reflect on it a bit. I was running around from one thing to another all week, so I didn't have much of a chance to find a lesson in any of it. But now I do and the lesson I keep coming back to is the lesson of who we are as Christ's Body: each of those who helped to lead the program took their smaller part of it, as it fit in with their gifts. I led the games, for example, because I know how to do that. Something like crafts, on the other hand, would have been a mystery to me.

There are a lot of lessons to be learned here about how VBS is a parable for the church: how we all serve through our gifts toward one common goal; that it takes flexibility, patience, and forgiveness to work closely with the other members of Christ's Body; and that our diversity actually makes us more effective in the work we are called to do. I could probably extend that list out a bit, but it's that last lesson that interests me today.

I noticed something about those who led VBS last week: none of them were around my age. This is not a judgment, it's just an observation. Our VBS was led by the same types of people who lead VBSs everywhere: the members of Christ's Body who have the time to lead it, lead it. Generally, that means, unless you're paying me to be there, people my age are going to be at work. And as long as we remember to help with VBS by contributing financially, that still leaves two very qualified groups to actually run it: teens and retirees (or semi-retireed).

Now let that soak in a bit... Vacation Bible School happens mostly because two groups of people who have almost nothing else in common work together to make it happen. And that, my friends, is the beauty of Christ's Body at work. If our church was made up of only teens, or only retirees, or only those in the middle, VBS would either not happen well or it wouldn't happen at all. But because we can incorporate such diverse age groups, this ministry not only happens, it happens exceedingly well.

I believe this is also true in any other way one could categorize us demographically. The work of the Church is more effective because of our diversity: we are young and old, male and female, politically conservative and liberal; we each have our own personal histories, families and ethnic backgrounds; and let's not forget our multitude of various gifts and talents. The world around us tends to see this kind diversity as a problem to be solved, but in Christ it's the other way around. The only same thing among us all is that we each have been called to follow Jesus. Those things that make us different in every other way, only makes us serve him that much more effectively.

We are, in many ways, a diverse group; and for that I am thankful. And I am especially thankful this week for those in our congregation who are older, working with those who are younger, to teach the youngest of our community of the love of God in Christ.

Mother's Day Kids, Pictures and Clips

2009-05-11T08:33:00.008-06:00

Here are some images and a short movie clip of our children during Sunday's Mother's Day worship service. Enjoy!

On the Road

2009-05-01T08:45:00.005-06:00

I'm back in town now, after a brief road trip. I drove out to my parents' house in California. They were off to the desert in their Winnebago so I had the house to myself to read, pray, and write. So technically this was "study leave" and not a vacation (although, after being on the job for nine months, the time away was certainly refreshing).

I took this time in an attempt to think through our next steps as a congregation. Our life together as Christ's body is very much a journey: geographically, we remain connected to this place, but Christ continually calls us to new places both personally and as a congregation. It was, in a manner of speaking, a road trip to help us plan a road trip.

But one of the greatest temptations a pastor faces is to plan this trip alone. The way the thinking goes, "I am the pastor. I've read all the right books. I know what constitutes a vital church. I know how to listen for God's voice. Of course I know where the church ought to go." And of course, this turns out to be one of the most destructive things a pastor can do. It's destructive for a number of reasons, but the central sin is that it assumes an authority that actually belongs to Christ. So to mix the metaphor slightly, I am simply the conductor on this road trip of Christ's church. We each participate in discerning where God is leading us and how we ought to get there; my role in this is to facilitate this process and then holler, "All aboard!"

So this trip was not about me deciding how our church can grow or better meet the needs of this community; I don't know how we are going to do things like that and frankly I think it's too soon for me to start sharing those thoughts anyway. No, this trip was about working on a process that helps us think through those issues in an ongoing way. This journey was about me remembering that our life together is also a journey; a journey that is more productive and enjoyable if we take stock of where we're supposed to be going from time to time.

You will hear more about how that process is taking shape in the coming months, but I can tell you about one central element: this process is mostly about prayer. Prayer is how we intentionally seek God's vision for the ministry we've been called to embody. Prayer is how we plan for this journey and prayer is how we travel it faithfully. So please pray. Pray for me and pray for those who will lead us in this process. Pray for us as a congregation that we might honestly work through the anxieties that new journeys sometimes bring. And let us pray for the Spirit's clear leading to show us all the wonderful things ahead of us as we seek to follow Christ our Savior.

By the way, even though I'm back in town, you won't see me in worship on Sunday. No, I'm not ditching church because I have the day off. No, I'm not just lying low so that the guest preacher doesn't feel nervous (not that she would or should). And no, I don't need a break from you.

The reason you won't see me on Sunday is that I'll be spying: on Sundays when I don't have any responsibilities, I like to attend another worship service incognito. I highly recommend it. It gives us an opportunity to take notes on what other churches are doing (well or poorly) which helps us get a perspective on what we are doing at Calvary. In addition, I like to play "Secret Shopper" during their fellowship time. That's where I sit alone with a cup of coffee and see if anyone comes over to talk to me; the results are then passed along to the pastor. So if you are going to miss a Sunday, at least bring back notes.

Lenten Reflection, Holy Week

2009-04-09T09:10:00.002-06:00

I'm always caught off guard by the term "Holy Week." It implies a consecration that this week certainly calls for, but may not always be tangibly perceived. We begin the week with waving palms and shouts of alleluias and, much like the first Palm Sunday crowds, we return to our ordinary routines on Monday. With some minor exceptions, I don't think I did anything on Monday of Holy Week that I didn't do the Monday before.

But that is an important facet to holiness: this is a week set apart for sacred use, and yet in many ways it doesn't seem different from any other. Of course it's holy because of what it represents and what it draws us to remember, not because these seven days are anything more than seven days. It's holy because of what God has done, will do, and is doing in, around, and through some rather mundane things. This week is holy in the same way that we are holy: it speaks more to the work of Christ than it does to our efforts toward holiness. We are not perfect, but we are perfected in him. You and I are no more or less than any other person on the planet, but at the same time we embody the same Holy Week message that points to the extraordinary work of God. We live these mundane lives from day to day as sacred signposts to God's grace.

Of course there is no small significance in the fact that the Holy Week events happened in the context of the Passover celebration. This sacred remembrance gives birth to and frames our understanding of this week, but in a deeper way so does the ordinaryness of these days. The work of God happens in the context of everyday life: our joyous celebrations, our daily grind, our mealtimes, our discord, our temptations, and even our mortality and our heartaches are all caught up in the salvation story. We look at the whole of Holy Week and we see that almost every moment of our ordinary lives gets caught up in what God is doing in Christ.

God's extraordinary mercy is exhibited in the midst of our ordinary days and through our ordinary lives. May we continue to find the holiness that God has placed on us in this and all our weeks.

Lenten Reflection, Week Five

2009-04-03T08:14:00.004-06:00

Good news: Sherry decided to heat up a frozen pizza because I was off at a meeting and couldn't cook dinner.

Bad news: As she preheated the oven the house began filling up with smoke.

Good news: It was merely burning dog food. The next day I took the floor out of the oven and found it down in with the heating element.

Bad news: The dog food was put into the oven by mice.

Good news: I now have a new favorite metaphor for sin.

I know our house has mice. Now that I know it, the evidence is irrefutable. Those scratching noises that my son heard months ago in the walls of his room, are now more than just his six-year-old imagination. Those little black specks of something that I saw behind the stove when I was investigating the problem, are now clearly droppings. I know we have mice. I know it and I have never seen a single one of them.

I am disgusted by the thought of mice in my house; I want them gone. I've started taking precautions to discourage the mice like not leaving the dog's food out overnight. We've called the landlord who will be sending an exterminator. But I am aware that, more than disgusted, what I'm really feeling is violated. If the mice had tried to store the dog food anywhere else, I may not have ever been alerted to their presence. Fortunately, the mice had no idea that their happy-warm new storage area would cause their stash to catch fire. But I am troubled by the thought that they could have just as easily gotten away with it.

Of course the mice are the sin in our lives. The mice represent those things that should not be there. They need not always be the harmful things that we have invited in, but they must also be removed just the same. The problem is, they don't always cause our houses to fill with smoke. Often they go unnoticed by those around us and sometimes even by us. It scurries around in the darkness because, as Jesus said, it fears the light.

I'm not sure how far I want to extend the metaphor; I suppose God could be the Great Exterminator or something. All I'm really trying to say is this: as we near the end of the Lenten season, part of the value of these seasons is in shining light on our lives. We don't need a house filled with smoke to know that we may be living with things that shouldn't be there. So we take this time to let the Spirit illuminate the nooks and crannies of our lives. We let God "clean house," as it were.

Let us, in all the seasons of our lives, seek to walk in the light of Christ, in whom there is no darkness at all.

Lenten Reflection, Week Four

2009-03-24T09:18:00.004-06:00

Here's how it works in theory: we reflect Christ more fully when we gather as the larger Church than we do as individuals. Individually we are created in God's image, loved eternally, and redeemed in Christ. But the work of Christ that we were created, loved, and redeemed to do is not fully realized until we find ourselves in the Body of Christ, the Church. In theory, we discern God's will better as a group. In theory, the Church holds its members accountable in practice and mission. In theory we are somehow less fallible as the Church than we are by ourselves. That's the theory anyway.

During many of my college years I worked at a Christian summer camp. These were some of my fondest memories and many of my closest friends today were people I worked with then. It was there that I first saw a clear image of Christ's Church. The camp was a refuge from The World for us and for the young people who were brought to us. Without our usual distractions and temptations, we could be more attentive to the moving of the Spirit. We were all followers of Christ, serving him with common purpose and celebrating his kingdom being built before our eyes. It is that kind of community of nurture and service that I strive to build in the church today. It was a illustration, for three months a year in an isolated spot in the mountains, of what the Church is meant to be. At least in theory.

In the office one summer, there was a guy named Bernie. Everyone loved Bernie because Bernie loved everyone: he was outgoing and cheerful, funny and generous. As I remember him, he was the life of the party even when there was no party. And to top it all off, Bernie had a car.

The camp was about a half-hour drive from the nearest town. Sometimes after work, we'd pile into cars and head to town to go shopping, get some pizza, or see a movie. The drive to town involved a curvy dirt road to a curvy paved road to a mercifully straight highway.

There were a lot of reasons why we drove too fast down those roads. Sometimes we were simply in a hurry. Sometimes we'd get to thinking we were so used to the roads that we'd conquered them somehow. Mostly we drove too fast because we were still dumb kids. At least that's what happened that night.

Bernie was in a joyous mood, as always. We piled as many guys into the car as Bernie had seat belts (at least we were that smart) and we headed down the curvy dirt road toward town. Bernie was driving too fast and we were all cheering him on. All of us were laughing and screaming like we were speeding down the tracks of a roller coaster. Only at one point, the roller coaster turned right and we found ourselves once again on a dirt road, sliding into a tree.

After a quick inspection we realized that we were, for the most part, not hurt. Of course Bernie's car did not fare so well. And what is etched into my memory, aside from the tree, is listening to Bernie call his dad to report the accident. Bernie took all responsibility: he alone dealt with the broken car and he alone dealt with furious parents. He wouldn't even accept our apologies for cheering him on. And even though he was behind the wheel and, as he put it, didn't have to listen to us, I don't think Bernie crashed that car by himself. I believe that, along with everyone else in that car that night, I helped to drive that car into the tree.

And therein lies the theory's fatal flaw. In theory, we are shaped more perfectly into the image of Christ as we gather as the Church. But in reality, we collectively drive Christ into trees all the time. In reality, even as the Church we are still only a collection of flawed individuals; redeemed individuals who are called by Christ to his service, but not perfect. In reality, discerning God's will and holding one another accountable in practice and mission don't just happen automatically. In reality, being that Christ-like Church involves our being perfected by Christ individually and our working with Christ in co-creating that larger Body.

May God shape us this season into more than good people. May God shape us collectively into the image of Christ in this world. Let Paul's words from Ephesians 4:1-6 be our prayer:

Help us, O God, to lead a life worthy of the calling to which we have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, ³making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. ⁴There is one body and one Spirit, just as we were called to the one hope of our calling, ⁵one Lord, one faith, one baptism, ⁶one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all. Amen.

Lenten Reflection, Week Three

2009-03-16T13:24:00.004-06:00

I Just cleaned my office.

You may be wondering why this is news, but it's important to me. Things have been getting a bit out of hand lately. You see, as it turned out, I was only mostly moved into my office: books were in place; computer arranged; coffee pot set up (actually, that was the first thing I did). However, not until today I had gone so far as to set up a filing system. As a result, I had kind of a make-shift system on my desk. Some would call it "piles," but trust me there was a system. Not a very tidy system, but a system.

And so today I can see the top of my desk. My coffee mug sits faithfully to my right and not teetering on a tower of papers. I now have a specific place for the books I am currently reading (five of them if you're keeping score) that is apart from the books that I simply need to keep on hand. I have a clear view of the lovely pictures of my lovely wife that is unobstructed with paper piles. But even more important than these things, I feel I can actually get something done. The clutter has been cleared away and my desk can once again be used for the purpose it was created: as a work-space. I believe I think more coherently with an organized office. If nothing else, I am now more comfortable having company in my office than I was before.

Spiritual growth is like this. As I was reminded during our last Sunday school class, in the renovation of our lives into the Christ-image we are created to be, often the process begins with destruction. In the case of my desk, the former filing (or should I say "piling") system had to go: papers had to be moved and sorted and old behaviors had to be abandoned. In the case of our walk with Christ, the process is often the same. Whether it be our individual spirituality or a renovation of who we are as a congregation, we at least begin with clearing out the clutter. And sometimes there is even call for full-blown demolition.

As uncomfortable, messy, and overwhelming as this process can be, it is still an expression of God's love. That's probably not the message we hear in the midst of the proverbial bulldozers crashing through our lives, but it is God's love for us. The removal of those things in us and in our congregation that keep us from being Christ's Body to the world need to be removed so that God can build in us who we were made to be. It's put much better in the book of Jeremiah:

See, today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms,
to pluck up and to pull down,
to destroy and to overthrow,
to build and to plant. (Jeremiah 1:10, NRSV)

The building and the planting is the end result. But building and planting without plucking up and pulling down, destroying and overthrowing, would be pointless. But neither is the demolition the point. God does not point out and correct our faults and inappropriate ways simply because they're wrong for us; God does this to build something better in its place. God does this because God loves us.

As we continue to seek our Savior's tender care to shape us more and more into his likeness, may the Spirit remove those things that get in the way of our being shaped into that body.

Lenten Reflection, Week Two

2009-03-04T11:00:00.008-07:00

When Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him, he said of him, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” Nathanael asked him, “Where did you get to know me?” Jesus answered, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” Nathanael replied, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” (John 1:47-49, NRSV)

When I say that I used to be a runner, that doesn't mean that I can't run. It just means that I currently lack proper motivation... like being chased by a bear.

There is, of course, a lot to be said for being properly motivated and a number of ways to be motivated. But it seems to me that those things that motivate us can be split into two general categories: internal and external motivators. External motivators are like bears. They demand a reactive response from us; they merely and temporarily change our behavior. External motivators are compelling, but only immediately; they only change our lives until the crisis has passed.

But internal motivators are quite different. Often those deeper motivations have nothing to do with our circumstances: there is no crisis, there is only the drive to be better; or better yet, the working of the Spirit pulling us more and more toward Christ's likeness.

It's these motivations that come from within that interested me most. My interest is partly due to a new pastorate and being especially conscious of not continuing in bad habits; partly because of Lent; and partly because I'm out of shape. I want to be a better person, inside and out. I want to be a better pastor, I want to follow Christ more faithfully, and I want to be healthier in a number of ways. And I need to let the Spirit show me why.

As we journey through this Lenten season, what do we anticipate? Are we seeking that God-centered motivation to direct us toward growth? Or are we continuing to react to situations and routines that only change us on the outside?

May the Spirit continue to guide you and bless you as we anticipate our Risen Savior.

Lenten Reflection, Week One

2009-02-25T09:30:00.003-07:00

As we begin the season of Lent, I'm struck by the irony of this blog: I commit myself to writing more consistently, but the post immidiately preceding this one contains pictures of people in Santa-hats. Clearly my resolve to do a thing does not always mean it's going to get done. Perhaps you can relate; we mean well, but too often our intentions are not ultimately lived out in reality. But consistency is not necessarily a hallmark of the Christian Religion; and Lent is a fine example of this.

We've worked into the liturgical year these seasons of preparation for the major days on our calendar: Christmas has Advent and Easter has Lent. While there isn't much solemn about the weeks leading up to our celebration of the birth of Christ, that's not so true with Lent. We remember Christ's forty days of fasting and praying in the wilderness; forty days of being forged in the desert for the sacrifice he would undergo for our salvation. We remember Lent's pinnacle, Holy Week; a week which began for him with cheering crowds and ended in his execution. As followers of Christ, Lent is a celebration of sacrifice and self-denial. We meditate on Christ's work for us by, for a season, taking on disciplines that might focus us on that work. Lent is sober and quiet. Lent is uncomfortable on purpose. Lent is a season of intentional spiritual growth... and on the eve of this season we party like it's the last chance we'll ever get!

Fat Tuesday. Shrove Tuesday. Mardi Gras. Whatever you call it you have to admit it sends a mixed message. My guess is that those who celebrate Mardi Gras are not necessarily the same people who clelebrate Lent. Certainly the excesses of Ash Wednesday-Eve are imbibed with a great degree of variation: from drunken debauchery to having pancakes for dinner. But it does make me question if we really understand Lent. Who do we think Lent is for? Are we only seeking in our Lenten disciplines to impress God? Do we delude ourselves into thinking that God notices only the sacrifices we make and never the excesses?

King David knew a thing or two about both a life of excess (when we pretend that God's not watching) and about spending time in the wilderness (when we truly begin to know the heart of God). When he was caught in one such moment of excess and then driven by God into a "wilderness time," he came out of that experience to write Psalm 51 (a familliar psalm to those who know the Lenten journey). Here we see the inconsistency of our faith at its very best. By anyone's measure of the word, David had sinned. And yet he clearly knows the heart of God. He writes:

O Lord, open my lips and my mouth will declare your praise.
For you have no delight in sacrifice;
if I were to give a burnt offering, you would not be pleased.
The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.
(Psalm 51:15-17, NRSV)

Here is David, the fornicating murderer. He cannot hide who he is. Real experiences of God will lay you bare like that. But they also illuminate God as well. It is in this naked honesty that he finds, not simply his sinfulness, but God's true heart. He finds that God doesn't want his stuff, God wants David. God doesn't want his pain (though the process might sting a bit), God wants David. God doesn't want the pretense of purity, God wants David. It is the heart that God is after, and although our outward practices might facilitate that end, if they do not turn out hearts toward God's, they are not really worth doing.

Please note that I'm not trying to discourage you from any Lenten practice; quite the opposite. Let's just start by honestly recognizing our inconsistencies in the light of God's constant love, shown to us in Christ. By all means, make your fasts, read your Bible, devote yourselves to prayer, commit yourselves to service; but let us also remember that it's you that God is after. May this Lenten season, by whatever ways we celebrate it, help us to truly give our hearts to God.

BEEPs Fundraiser Pictures

2009-01-01T13:24:00.000-07:00

These pictures are from the BEEPs fundraiser that happened a couple of weeks ago. I've been meaning to post them for a while. What I hoped to capture in taking them was all of the Calvary folks engaged in service. I came to the second seating so I don't know what it was like earlier, but I was hard pressed to find anyone serving me that morning that wasn't related to Calvary.

What an impressive presence this congregation has in this community!

Do Not Be Afraid!

2008-12-22T11:16:00.002-07:00

“Do not be afraid,” they say. “I bring good news,” they say. That’s easy for them to say. Can you imagine being one of those people who were visited by angelic messengers in the beginning chapters of the Gospel of Luke? Unexpectedly and extraordinarily God breaks into your life through these remarkable messengers, and you are asked not to be afraid; good luck with that!

On the other hand, can you imagine being one of these angels? You could never just walk into a room or a shepherd’s field and say, “Hi.” Your mere presence would freak people out so much that the first part of your proclamation always had to be, “Yeah, I’m an angel; now settle down and listen.” That seems to be the way they introduced themselves, and perhaps it was out of necessity: if they didn’t at least try to calm their hearers down, the rest of the message would likely be lost.

But I also wonder if there was more to this opening proclamation than that; perhaps there is more to the command of, “Do not be afraid,” than a futile attempt to help mortals in getting their heads around the presence of God’s heavenly messengers. What if these words give meaning and shape to these proclamations themselves: what if, “Do not be afraid,” is really the whole point?

I went skiing with some church members the other day and they tried to play a little trick on me: I had been following them all day and they took me to the top of an ugly looking slope – full of moguls and very steep. They told me we were going down it and it would be fine. I think their intent was to get me to say something like, “Are you kidding? I’m sane and I have a lot to live for; I’m not going down that thing,” (which would have been the sensible thing to say). Unfortunately, I said no such thing because they made the mistake of telling me that it would be OK. They had been skiing with me for hours; they knew what I was capable of and I trusted them. When they said I could do it, I believed them! (Fortunately, we then went down a different way.)

When the angels appear in the beginning of Luke, they begin by proclaiming that we should not fear, and they knew what they were talking about. But this proclamation has value beyond how their appearance was making the shepherds quake; their proclamation speaks to our fears as well. They had insight into how this story ends. They knew for a fact that this child they were proclaiming would be the end of all our fears, not just the fear of angels.

Note that in Romans 8, Paul lists angels as one of those things that won’t ever be able to separate us from God’s love, shown to us through this baby born (see Romans 8:37-39). But note also that his list starts with death. His list starts with the most dreaded and ominous of our fears and it is the first thing that we have conquered in Christ. The rest of those fears – angels, tumultuous economies and governments, menacing ski slopes, and so on – fall in line accordingly in the list of worries that can no longer hold us captive. Because of this baby born in the middle of nowhere to a couple that no one had ever heard of, we no longer have to be afraid again.

And so I believe the proclamation of the herald angels has become our proclamation to the world: do not be afraid! We are now sent, this season and throughout our lives, to proclaim this good news of great joy to all people: a Savior has been born! And this Savior is the end of fear.

Merry Christmas and be at peace.

Clearing the Way

2008-12-18T11:08:00.003-07:00

I think in metaphor when I’m shoveling snow. My mind tends to wander whenever I’m doing anything that doesn’t require much active thought: taking a shower, going for a walk, and things like that. But since moving to Bayfield, I’ve been trying more actively to let my meandering thoughts settle on the lessons that these seemingly mundane activities might tell. Lately I’ve been shoveling snow and thinking about its parables.

I think shoveling snow is a lesson on repentance; and I can always use a lesson on repentance. Not that I have more to repent about in my life than anyone else, in fact that’s partly the point: repentance is the act of turning back to God; of taking note of where we are in our relationship with our Savior and doing what we can to put our actions and our thoughts back in line with God’s will.

Often we think of repentance in terms of last resort. We think of and seek repentance because we no longer have a choice; we’ve been caught – if only by the Spirit’s nudging within us – and we know we’ve got to seek God’s mercy and get back to the business of building Christ’s Kingdom. This is the repentance we know the best, and certainly any repentance is good repentance, but it isn’t the only kind. In fact, it may not be the best kind.

This brings us to the metaphor of snow-shoveling: shoveling snow, like a renewed desire to be right with God, is never futile. Whether there are three inches on the ground or a foot, there are always good reasons for shoveling it (I might as well point out that the parable begins to fall apart if you prefer a plow or a snow-blower). If nothing else, shoveling snow and repentance are good exercises… and like any exercise, it may not always be fun. When I’m finished with the driveway, I hurt in places I forgot I had. I’ve used muscles and joints that don’t get pushed that way too often. My heart gets pumping and I end the chore tired, thirsty, and a bit achy. So too repentance might hurt, especially if we’re working in spiritual places that have been neglected for some time. The good news is, by God’s grace the pain does pass and we might even find ourselves stronger for the process.

Sometimes I feel a little silly when I’m shoveling snow. I feel silly because I’m the only one on my street who’s doing it. Yesterday there were only a couple of inches on the driveway; it wasn’t going to impede anyone. Before I left for work I cleared it and I felt very self-conscious in doing it. But I did it for two reasons: first I thought, “If it’s not going to snow any more today (and it didn’t) then I will come home to a clear, dry, and non-slushy driveway.” But I also thought, “If it does snow some more today, that’s two less inches I’m going to have to move this afternoon.”

Although this non-rock-bottom brand of repentance may also make us feel a bit self-conscious – after all, we may be the only ones on our block engaging in it – I also think it’s superior. Like gently falling snow, those things that turn us from the will of God might seem innocent enough… until they begin to settle in and harden on our hearts like ice on a driveway. On the other hand, the practice of clearing the way on a regular basis both lightens the work of repentance and may even help us to avoid more serious problems that follow.

As I look back on my career so far, I have not preached heresy, I have not embezzled from anyone, I have not hurt children, I have not been unfaithful to my wife, and I have not even raised my voice in anger toward one of my siblings in Christ. But where I have failed as Christ’s under-shepherd has been in a lack of regular repentance. I have not always sought God’s correction as I should and thus I have let down the people of God and myself.

Let us all be always attentive in clearing the way between ourselves and God and one another. Let not even a light dusting keep us from seeking the face of God as we strive together to be Christ’s Body in this place.

Feeling at Home

2008-11-18T12:13:00.004-07:00

For any who haven't heard, our lives have been a bit tumultuous lately. We almost bought a house... well, I'm not sure "almost" is the right word. We put an offer on a house and the current owners took it off the market the next day. I guess our offer wasn't "in their neighborhood."

All that happened last week, so this week I'm thinking of home. Not so much of the houses I grew up in or of the house we're renting now, but the idea of home; the idea that a person can (and perhaps ought to) have one accepting and stationary place that they call "home." The idea of home is that almost mythical notion that gives us the ability to explore and to grow, yet always remaining able to return back to the security of that immovable and constant "home."

It's that notion of constancy that has my gears turning today. I don't think I've looked at any place I've lived in as permanent since I was a child: it dawned on me as an adolescent that my parent's house would not always be my house and, ever since then, I have been living in places that have belonged to other people. That was fine while I was in school; it even made sense in what I consider the early part of my calling, but I'm ready to be done with that now. I'm in a place in my life where I need to belong; I need to develop an identity that is about more than just what I do, but about where I am and about the people who are there with me. My wife needs to see the fulfillment of her dreams, my children need the security of living somewhere for more than a few years, and I need to feel "at home."

As I say this, I recognize that there may be some who only understand this idea of "home" in an abstract way, if at all. I feel fortunate in that I grew up in a secure and unshakable home that I can look back on fondly and strive for, but perhaps the idea of home is only best understood abstractly (at least it's less easily muddied up by a "family values" debate). Besides, if we talk about "home" in a less tangible way, then we can also talk of how the church can help to meet that need.

I was speaking the other day with someone who was church shopping. As she put it, she was looking around for a church that was like the church she grew up in. Although eventually I suspect that she'll have to "settle," what she said resounded with me. I credit the church I grew up in with having a tremendous impact on the path my life has taken. In a sense, I look back on my early church experience in the same way I look at my early home life. In fact, the idea of home and the idea of church are to me the same idea in many ways. And just as I have this drive to live out the idea of home I also desire to create a church that lives up to the image of "church" as I idealize it. When that church shopper told me that she was looking for the church she grew up in, my response was, "That's one of the reasons I got into ministry: to re-create the church I grew up in."

I'm quite certain that I'm not the only one who does that. In fact I'd love to hear from you on this: please drop me an email or leave a comment below and tell me about your ideal church. Tell me about the church or churches in your life that you'd like to re-create. What are the common traits that you currently see in your church and what could be done to make it feel more like "home" to you?

The Up-Side of Presbyopia

2008-11-12T12:14:00.007-07:00

Last night was our monthly Session meeting. I usually begin each meeting with a short devotional, seeking to center us on our Savior and ground us in why we have gathered to serve him. Lately the church’s mission statement has been on my mind so I used it to get our meeting started. If you don’t have it memorized, here it is:

We are a congregation
centered in the Good News of Jesus Christ,
seeking in our lives and our life together to be
obedient to and
shaped by the Scriptures,
growing in faith and service
as a congregation of the Presbyterian Church (USA).

There is also a longer version on the church’s website, but this is the one we’re all supposed to be familiar with. Sure, it’s a little dated as purpose statements go (it was written in 2005) and sure, it could use some revision, but it is a rather good description of us as a congregation and what our intentions are in this community. Frankly, as we were reading through it last night, the only thing that I bristled at was the last line.

I’m not big on brand loyalty. Just because a thing has a recognizable name on it, doesn’t mean I owe it any special consideration (with the obvious exceptions of things like my family). I have spent most of my life as a Presbyterian. I married a Presbyterian. I serve Christ in the Presbyterian Church. And that’s just the thing: I serve Christ. I know firsthand that the PC(USA) is not perfect. We are a flawed institution made up of flawed individuals that somehow seeks together to overcome those flaws by the Spirit’s help. I see the same Body of Christ reflected in the ministries and insights of my Baptist, Foursquare, Catholic, Assemblies, Congregational, etc. friends that I see in my Presbyterian friends.

But that being said, as I reflect on last night’s Session meeting – especially in light of our mission statement’s last line – I am reminded of why I will probably be a Presbyterian at least as long as I am a minister. I came into that meeting feeling burdened and insufficient for the call that God has been placed on me. I left that meeting feeling re-energized and enthusiastic for all the things God is doing here. And as I think on this transformation this morning I am aware that this is not the first time this has happened. I seem to find this same revival about the same time every month. About the same time every month, I start becoming overwhelmed by the work and worries leading God’s people in proclaiming the gospel in a relevant and transformational way. And about the same time every month I gather with these amazing women and men that you call Elders and the Spirit uses them to build me up. When I gather with them I am led by a wisdom that is beyond my own. When I gather with them I am encouraged by a common mission. When I gather with them I am strengthened by the knowledge that the work of this church does not fall on my shoulders alone. Please continue to pray for and encourage our Elders as they are a tremendous gift of God to all of us.

Christians Shouldn't Vote

2008-11-04T06:22:00.001-07:00

I was recently listening to a pastor friend of mine preach about the responsibility of Christ’s followers to be involved in the democratic process. I appreciated that he didn’t tell me how to vote – as some pastors do from time to time – only that we ought to vote and that our vote should be an expression of our relationship with Christ. Of course he was right; who would argue with that? Aside from the fact that faithful Christians cast opposing ballots out of their relationships with Christ in every election, every one of them would probably tell you that their choices were at least inspired by their faith. It seems that one way or another Christ will have cast votes both for and against our next president.

But my pastor friend also encouraged us to pray. He encouraged us to pray for the process and for the people we elect. This got me thinking: which is more important for American democracy? Which really makes the difference: is it the “rightly” filled out ballots that we put in the box or is it our petitions to God on behalf of those leaders and issues?

Clearly we ought to be doing both; God has entrusted both of these profound responsibilities and privileges to us and to neglect either is simply disgraceful stewardship. But what if it were one or the other? Which would you choose? Which would be more beneficial to our nation? What would happen to American democracy if the followers of Christ simply gathered in their “precincts” to pray instead of vote? Would the “wrong” issues and candidates be approved? Would our nation become less of a “Christian Nation” than it is?

When it comes down to it, these are ridiculous questions in the sense that we are unlikely to lose either of these privileges any time soon. But I don’t think that asking which is more important to our society is at all ridiculous. Christians don’t always agree on the people our votes should go to, but we all agree on where our prayers should go. So if your choice today is to pray or to vote, then I think you should pray.

Let's Try This Again

2008-11-03T09:57:00.002-07:00

I just realized that I haven't written here since September. Ugh. That's actually one of my pet peeves: people who put up a blog and then never write anything. It isn't as though my brain's been inactive for over a month, I just let myself get out of the habit of writing and posting. I will try to throw at least one thought a week up on this electronic canvas from here on out... but like I said yesterday, "I'm not perfect."
As always, if you have discussion topics you'd like me to hit, feel free to drop me a note.

My Brother's Birthday

2008-09-10T13:32:00.002-06:00

I have said in sermons lately, “There are some members of the Family of God who are no longer receiving Christmas cards from me.” Just one of my patented cheeky little comments; just something I threw out there to let you know that I understand all too well the divisions that happen in the body of Christ. But today I regret saying that because today is my brother’s birthday.

For clarity, I have two brothers; I am the middle of three boys, born about a year apart from each other. I am very close to my younger brother, but my older brother and I have not had a meaningful conversation in years. My older brother is the one having a birthday today. I think the last birthday card I sent him was about ten years ago. There was no fight. There were no hateful or angry words. The conversation just kind of stopped. After another year of unanswered gestures I decided to let our relationship simply drift away. It was a decision I felt I had to make to keep my hurt from turning into anger; a decision that hasn’t always worked out like it should. On days like these the feelings are like being sunburned under your shirt: no one knows that anything’s wrong until someone pats you just a little too hard.

On days like these it occurs to me that my brother may never meet my children. On days like these I remember how close we once were. My older brother was the one who dragged me to church when church was exactly what I needed in my life. I remember the two of us standing in our kitchen, talking for hours about faith and life and whatever else came up. I loved to make my brother laugh. Now we don’t even talk.

I have done my part in punching holes in the Body of Christ. And although I might make light of it in an effort to hide my own guilt and pain, I know as well as anyone that it isn’t funny. It isn’t funny, it isn’t inevitable, and it isn’t God’s will for us to be separated from one another. I will do all I can to keep our disagreements from turning into divisions. When the Spirit shows us the way, I will seek our reconciliation. And in those times we cannot even speak, I will pray for you and look for the day when nothing will separate us again.

Today is my brother’s birthday and I am particularly conscious of all those who are absent from my life.

The Lois

2008-09-06T17:34:00.001-06:00

As a pastor, I learned a long time ago that there is no “right” way to deal with loss; Kübler-Ross gave us some stages that we ought to expect during the grieving process, but we all face our pain in our own way. That being said, Lois Rodriguez died last night and I find myself wondering if I'm feeling what I'm supposed to feel.
Sherry and I adopted Lois from the pound when she was a kitten. I chose her because, unlike the other kittens, she came to the front of the cage and attacked my finger. Through the years I would come to identify that behavior as “feisty” rather than “playful.” She was not a lap-cat, she abhorred being held, and would usually hide when company was over. It isn't as though she was necessarily mean – she would sleep on the bed and enjoyed being brushed – it's just that she wasn't what most people would consider affectionate.
But Lois was a part of my life through some of the biggest moments of my life. We got her a few months before we were married (I often joked that we got married so that Lois would be “legitimate”). She was around when I was ordained. She was a bit annoyed at the birth of my children. Many people are affected by the loss of a pet in much the same way people are affected by the loss of a family member. I understand this: in many ways pets are members of the family. But that's not what I'm feeling right now. Lois and I didn't really have a member-of-the-family kind of relationship. It was more like Lois was a slightly irritable roommate who was forced to reluctantly move with us every time we did.
Things had been good between us lately, which makes me happy; I might feel a little guilty if we weren't on good terms when she passed. Our latest move had given her a place of her own and I think she appreciated the freedom. And as it turns out, Sherry and I had both spent some quality time with her last night. Her health had been declining for some time now and it seems she went peacefully.
Still, I have a Lois-shaped hole in my life now and I think it will be a while before I know how to feel about it.

The Big Table

2008-08-20T13:47:00.001-06:00

The Scripture lessons for the next couple of Sundays have got me thinking a bit about worship. To say that worship is a potentially divisive issue is to understate the matter almost laughably. If you have been associated with any congregation for any moderate amount of time, you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you don’t, just wait a bit; it is a powder keg that virtually every congregation must tiptoe around, attempt to defuse, or risk detonation.

The ironic tragedy is that this time in our lives, meant to physically gather as God’s people, is so often and needlessly marred by conflict and hurt feelings. Seemingly miniscule issues like musical accompaniment, responsive prayers, and the length of a sermon have torn congregations apart, disrupted the church’s mission, and undermined the reputation of the Body of Christ. Why worship is such a lightning rod for division is complicated and clearly a spiritual struggle… and I cannot promise you that we will not argue over worship.

But that does not mean that these differences of opinion will necessarily lead to the kinds of conflict that most of us have seen elsewhere. If we obey the rules of direct and loving communication, there is no reason why these important and difficult discussions need to divide us. In fact, utilizing some helpful imagery regarding worship might even serve to unite us and renew our devotion to one another even through these conversations.

There are two analogies of worship that I find particularly helpful. The first (most clearly articulated by Kierkegaard) is the image of worship as theater. Although I think many of us enter into a sanctuary in the same way we enter a movie theater, this is not at all the intent of this image. In fact it is quite the opposite: rather than our being the “audience” in worship, we are actually the “performers.” What we “act out” in worship is directed solely for God’s pleasure. I appreciate this imagery because it draws us into participating in worship and not simply seeking to be entertained by it. However, worship as theater is not my favorite image for two reasons: theater is not a readily available biblical image and, by definition, theater is not real life.

So my favorite way to look at worship is as though it were a dinner table. First, there are plenty of biblical examples of worship as family gatherings involving food. This isn’t surprising; eating is a universal human experience and sharing food together is an experience that binds us together in a unique way. I believe that, whether positively or negatively, each of our spiritual journeys has been directed somehow over dinner tables.

The dinner table is where we give thanks to God for what we’ve been given. It is where we are more than physically nourished. The table is where life’s lessons are reviewed and preparations are made for the next new day. We laugh, we cry, we learn, we teach, we debate, we commit, we create, we consume; we may or may not have had anything to do with preparing the meal, but we all certainly participate in it.

Of course, like any analogy, there are limitations to thinking of worship as a dinner table, but I think it’s a good way to start: it frees us to remember that different kinds of meals have different table manners (i.e. there is rarely ever room for a food fight, but we may not always need a separate children’s table) and that almost all of the business of being a family that is done around the dinner table can be accomplished by the Family of Faith during worship.

For now, I think only one other thing remains to be said: at the dinner table which is our worship service, you do not need to ask permission before you invite your friends over. There is plenty for everyone and this table always has room for one more.

Good question

2008-07-28T10:22:00.003-06:00

My father, who was a high school teacher for almost forty years, used to tell his students the same thing most teachers tell their students, "There is no such thing as a silly question." I'm not sure that's universally true, but the point is well taken: if you have a question about something, the odds are good that someone else does too. To that end, I was emailed a not-so-silly question this morning and perhaps you were wondering the same thing...

Q: The top of yesterday's bulletin had the title "17th Sunday in Ordinary Time." What does that mean?
A: It refers to the date on the Revised Common Lectionary, the three-year cycle of Scripture readings that takes us through most of the Bible. Unless otherwise noted, the text or texts that I preach from come from one of the readings from this schedule (there is generally an Old Testament, a Psalm, a Gospel, and an Epistle reading). I like to use it for preaching because it helps me to look at the whole of Scripture as I listen for God's voice. I think it's good for us as a congregation because the seasons of the church add a different spiritual dimension to our worship life. Different people and denominations give these seasons different names, but the one I follow generally goes: Advent, Christmas, Lent, Easter, a few special Sundays like Pentecost and Baptism of the Lord, and the rest are called Ordinary Time.

If you have questions that you fear might seem silly, go ahead and email them to me. If I think it might be a question that others might share, I will post it with your name withheld.

And speaking of chatting...

2008-07-22T08:58:00.002-06:00

I've heard from several folks who have told me they have had a bit of trouble commenting on this blog. Of course if you can't comment, it kind of misses the point. So here are the steps that should make it possible to add your comment:

Click on the word "comments" in the lower right beneath each post
After typing in your comment, type in the nonsensical sequence of letters in the space provided
Click the circle next to "Name/URL" and put in your name (you don't have to put in anything for URL)
Click "Publish your comment" and that should be it

Again, I hope that this will be one of many ways that we can talk to one another; these conversations help us greatly as we seek to be Christ's Body in this community.

Let's Chat...

2008-07-16T12:20:00.002-06:00

To all of you who have let me know that you've stopped by to read this blog, thank you! I'm glad to hear that people are reading this and I hope that it will continue to become a useful tool for us in communication.
Speaking of which, I want to expand on something I said (or tried to say) on Sunday during the announcements: I want to be as available to you as possible. Whether or not you take advantage of them, there are a number of ways that I am available to chat:

You can comment on this blog.
You can email me (especially if you have topic ideas for this blog).
You can stop by the church and chat with me during my office hours (Mon-Thur, 9-4). (You should call ahead because the work of a pastor is not exactly a "regular hours" kind of job, but I try to be as consistent as I can be.)
You can set up an appointment when we can meet for coffee or even invite me (and if you're adventurous, my family) over for dinner.
You can contact me at my various phone numbers: at the church, on the cell phone, or for an urgent need, at the house.
You can corner me after worship or in the grocery store or whatever else our paths might cross.

The point is, I want to talk to you. I want to hear your life stories and learn why the people of Calvary are your church family. I want to know why you love this church and what about it makes you crazy. I want to know about it if I hurt your feelings and I want you to hear me say, "I'm sorry." I want to hear from you when I'm wrong and I want you to hear from me if it turns out I'm not. I want to hear about your hopes and dreams for our future and even about your disappointments from our past. I want to make myself as available to you as I can because I want to know you and I want you to know me.
So remember you are invited! I want to hear from you. I enjoy hearing from you. I believe I am a better pastor to you because I've heard from you. I hope to hear from you soon.

Jumping Off

2008-07-11T17:16:00.000-06:00

For several years after my high school graduation, I worked at a summer camp in the mountains of central California. Sometimes on Saturdays, after the campers had all gone home, we’d pile into our cars and go to a place called Angel Falls. There was a river that ran over a series of tremendous boulders, creating waterfalls, pools, and other amazing formations. It was a beautiful and relaxing place to spend the day; one might imagine that it was the tranquil beauty of the place that gave it its name. But no, it was because the river’s current and the unusual rock formations had taken so many lives over the years.
I came close to death at least one time myself at Angel Falls. My buddy Darren had led us to a rock and pool formation that was simply made by God for jumping. The pool was wide and deep and the rock was nice and flat on top, perfect for the running start we would need to get over the small outcrop between the rock and pool. Darren showed us how, pointing out the slick, mossy spot that we should avoid.
After Darren it was my turn (I always followed Darren and this was neither the first nor last time it would lead me into danger). Off I ran toward the edge and, although I had been warned, stepped right on that mossy spot. Suddenly this jump was not going at all as I had planned it; I found myself in one of those slow motion moments. I was keenly aware of the outcrop I was supposed to be jumping over, now quickly rushing towards me. I managed to turn my body in mid flight, as to bounce off the thing with my body’s more squishy spot, and I headed down into the water.
As Darren rushed over to me to see if I was all right, I realized that I was not immediately sure. After taking inventory I found that my body was not broken, but I could have just as easily been one of those angels that gave that place its name. I felt the simultaneous emotions of elation, as I realized I was not hurt, and of sobering humility, as I realized I could have just as easily died. Rest assured that I was much more cautious of that mossy spot on my following jumps.
Lately I feel I’m on that rock again. The leadership of this congregation has done so much to keep this church on track: there is a good sense of who we are as the people of God in this community and a wonderfully well-focused vision for how we are to live out that identity. In a sense, all I need to do is jump in. And yet I can’t help but wonder about those mossy spots; one misplaced step and I could find myself having to choose which body part I land on.
If Darren were here he’d call me names that question my manhood and suggest I, “Just go for it,” and Darren’s taunts aside, that’s probably the right thing to do. Yes, I might (and probably will) slip up from time to time. And yes, the fall might (and probably will) hurt. But Christ has called us to jump: For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline (2 Timothy 1:7, NRSV). The Body of Christ has not failed the world through lack of planning; we fail through lack of jumping. We slip once and expect that we will always slip. Or even worse, we see someone else slip and determine it’s just too risky. May we be a people who dive in fearlessly and joyfully wherever and however our Savior calls us.

Moving Part 3

2008-07-11T17:14:00.001-06:00

(Sorry it's been so long since my last post. I had actually written this one about a week ago and hadn't had a chance to post it.)

OK let's face it, moving is horrible. For all my talk about the spiritual lessons related to moving, let's not forget that there's not much good that goes with the move itself: I have aching muscles, a stubbed toe, and I have no idea where my can opener is. As of today, we have unpacked quite a number of boxes... but you'd never know it by looking around the house or garage. Slowly, we are beginning to get settled into our new environment, but we have a long way to go.
Yes, the move is rough, and yet God has blessed us tremendously through it. God has brought some wonderful people into our lives lately, making all this turmoil so much easier to bear.
One of my favorite stories related to this happened last Friday, the day after the Big Move. My daughter and I were walking over to the mailbox to see if we had any mail yet and a woman drove up and stopped in front of us. She introduced herself as a neighbor from up the street and commented on the crew we had at the house the day before. (If you weren't there, it really was quite amazing. I didn't personally do a head-count, but I think at least half the church was at the house at some point. We barely needed the dollies; people were lining up to take boxes before they could make it into a stack.) She said to me, “What a wonderful testimony to the neighborhood that so many people from the church would come help you move!” And then she said one of the best things anyone could say about a church: she said, “I want to be a part of a church like that.”
I told her, “So do I!!”
I doubt that any who were carrying boxes last Thursday realized that they were evangelizing to my new neighborhood, but I think that's how the proclamation of the gospel works the best. Sure, we need to remain diligent to take the extra step of making that invitation when field is ripe, but most of what we do to call others to Christ is simply by making him look good. I thank God for this wonderful church, which has been making Christ look good for over a century. May we continue this work for many years to come.

Moving, Part 2

2008-06-19T10:55:00.000-06:00

With the rare exception, churches do not know how to throw things away. Of course, I don’t yet know anything about Calvary in this regard; this is just my experience to date (stirred by my current context of packing). For the most part, we are hoarders; we pack things away in our attics, basements, garages, and closets in the delusion that, “We might need this someday.”
Take for example, the slow cooker I personally threw away earlier this year. A remarkable woman in the church had managed to put together a church clean-up day without causing a church-split, so I used the opportunity to get rid of the slow cooker that had been staring at me for about four years. Another pillar of the church tried to stop me, but I would have none of it. Its time had come.
For years this cooker had sat useless in the corner of the kitchen, seemingly begging me to put it out of its misery. The cooker had long ago lost its power cord and I was done looking at it: without a power source, it was more of a planter than a cooker. There are spiritual analogies in that alone, but my point is that we kept this useless cooker in the ridiculous hope that the cord would one day be found or – even more unlikely – somehow replaced.
Now as silly as our hoarding behavior may be, there are good reasons for why the church should be reluctant to simply throw stuff away. First of all, in some ways the church is where we keep our faith. Sure, when we’re doing it right, our faith is something we take with us at all times and everywhere we go. But where do we go when we don’t have a faith of our own or our faith becomes misplaced or our faith becomes too heavy for us to carry on our own? We go to church. The church is where we keep the symbols of our faith, it is where we are reminded of the saving work of God on our behalf, and it’s where we keep the people we’ve entrusted to hold on to our faith “just in case.”
But even more than that, in the end the church is really about people. Following Christ’s example, we are infinitely more interested in saving people than slow cookers; but you can see how the saving of a slow cooker has parallels to the saving of people. Christ had no intention of letting any person “just get thrown away.” When someone begins to seem less than useful, how ridiculous would it be if we put them on the curb? No, at best we hold out hope that they can and will be restored to usefulness or at least we appreciate what they have done for the Kingdom and let them have a rest.
Which brings me back to the slow cooker that I threw away because it had no purpose because it had no cord; the slow cooker I was asked specifically not to throw away because of the vain and misplaced hope that the cord could be found or replaced. Well of course I found that stupid cord a couple of weeks later. I found that stupid cord and I have vowed to keep with me always as a continual reminder. I keep it, not as a lesson on how I shouldn’t throw things away, but as a lesson on why the church should throw things (and never people) away only reluctantly. As annoying as I may personally find our senseless hoarding to be, it does say some wonderful things about us.
May our gracious Savior renew in us that blessed hoarding spirit for the people of this world.

Moving

2008-06-16T13:46:00.001-06:00

Of course Sherry and I are currently getting ready to move. We’re packing up boxes and deciding what needs to be handy, what needs to stay in boxes for a while, and what we’d rather just throw away. There are a lot of metaphors that go along with moving, some are church related and some are simply personal. In short, you will likely hear from me on this subject again.
By the way, if you happen to be one of those kindhearted souls who are interested in helping us unload the truck, pay no attention to all the booze boxes. Liquor stores are a great place to get moving boxes. Although I’m no teetotaler, I did not empty any of those boxes… I just filled them with our stuff.
In the first few years of our marriage, we moved about once a year. There were a variety of reasons for it, but the end result was that we didn’t accumulate much stuff. If it didn’t fit into a mid-sized U-Haul truck or if our friends, who were willing to work for pizza and beer, considered it too heavy to lift, we’d get rid of it.
There isn’t much I miss about those days – broke and semi-transient – but I do appreciate the process. I believe it’s good for us to look at the stuff that we’ve collected over the years and ask the hard questions about their usefulness. Please note that I’m not talking about disregarding old things or sentimental things for the sake of the process. I confess that I get a charge out of throwing things out, but I long ago learned to give that process its due time.
But on the other hand, there is something healthy in picking up all of your stuff and moving it somewhere else. It forces us to ask more than “Do I need this?” It forces us to ask, “Do I need this enough to carry it with me wherever I go?” It compels us to evaluate all of our baggage (metaphorical and otherwise) as to its usefulness and its weight.
Between the time of Moses and David the Ark of the Covenant lived in a tent. It was thought that this was where the earthly presence of God could be found… and it was in a tent: portable, temporary, and comparatively light. A tent; not a very noble place to keep God, but God never complained. God didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, I think God may have preferred it that way!
You see, our God is always on the move. God cannot be kept in a box any more than God can be kept in our sanctuaries. My hope for us as the people of God is that we learn to travel light. We don’t have to have worship in a tent, but I hope that it can be a time of repacking our faith in a way that taken on the move with God.

Get to know me!

2008-06-06T13:52:00.001-06:00

As of the morning of Sunday, June 1, I am the newly elected pastor of Calvary Presbyterian Church in beautiful Bayfield, Colorado. But chances are, if you’re reading this, you already knew that. If you’ve found your way to this blog, there is a good chance that you’ve met me or at least read my profile on the church’s website. My hope for this blog is that it be a place to get to know me in a different way than simply through the facts of my life. My hope for this is that we will be able to have ongoing conversations about who we are as Christ’s Body here in this place. I want this to be a place where I can share my thoughts and hopes for this congregation and this community and you can enrich those musings as we seek God’s will together.
I have set this up so that anyone can comment on anything I write. All I ask is that you refrain from commenting anonymously; I don’t believe that our conversations are as valuable if we don’t know who we’re talking to.
As we begin this journey together, I know that God has amazing things in store for us. I am looking forward to sharing this journey with you and I thank you in advance for your contributions.