Feeling at Home

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.