People this time of year joke about Christmas letters and fruitcake. Folks roll their eyes and grumble about both. Okay - I'll grant you that there are some bad Christmas letters. Full of so much boasting and bragging that you can barely make your way to the end of the note. And there are some bad fruitcakes. Still, I like them both...Christmas letters and holiday fruitcakes.
So I've been reading notes from friends. It's been fun -mostly- hearing what they're up to. How life is going for them. There have been a few stories of pain and loss, too.
One note nearly dropped me on the floor, though. It's from a friend I have known for over twenty years. She is a pedal-to-the-floor Jesus follower. She talks a lot about the Holy Spirit. Some might say she's a Pentecostal Christian in Methodist clothing. My friend is more conservative, theologically, than me.
She has been a tremendous blessing to me. She has offered words of encouragement to me in my life and ministry. She has prayed for me and with me. She has loved me better than I deserve.
Last year, in her Christmas letter, she said she wasn't sure their church's new pastor was going to get the job done. Because he was so unlike his predecessor. I sent her back a note and reminded her that God wires us all differently, and that every pastor -no matter how much we may love and respect them- has weaknesses. One pastor goes and another pastor arrives - the strengths of one complementing the weaknesses of the other.
So this year I open up my friend's Christmas letter and she says something like this: "I meet with Pastor Devon and Pastor Sandy every Sunday between services and pray for them. Still haven't made up my mind but continue to support him."
Okay. Does this strike you as odd? Should I be thankful that my friend, despite her reservations about the lead pastor at their church, is still praying with him...and for him? Or should I be bothered by the disconnect of a person who prays with a pastor, week after week, but is still leaning back, withholding judgment, and not sure?
The New Testament -1st John- says people will know we belong to God by the way we love one another. Jesus says the same thing in John's gospel. Praying for one another, tossing around the Holy Spirit's name, and then waiting to say, "Naw, you don't meet the qualifications I have for a (fill-in-the-blank) just right friend...neighbor... teacher...counselor...youth director...choir director...pastor...Jesus-follower" strikes me as evidence of a critical spirit and love that is conditional to the extreme.
Love doesn't mean we don't hold one another accountable. Christian love doesn't mean we shut off that part of our mind that utilizes wisdom to evaluate people and situations.
But to show up, week after week, praying for someone while inside we are still gathering information, still weighing the evidence, still seeing whether they match up with the list of qualifications we have put together for a parent, friend, coach, teacher, or pastor -there is a disconnect here.
I'm going out on some thin ice, here, but I think my friend's prayers are shallow. Only half-real. It would be more loving, more courageous, more faithful, and more prayerful if my friend would ask to sit down with her pastor. Talk honestly with him about her struggles...her concerns...and risk some honest communication. Take a risk and get to know his heart...how the world looks from where he sits. Now that would be a prayer.
When you pray for people, when you tell them you're pulling for them, when you say they can count on you, are you telling the truth? Or are you just settling for the appearance of prayer...friendship...support?
To support someone is to risk honesty.
That's where it has to start.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Do Distracted, Tired Angels Still Sing?
If you look up the word angel in the dictionary you're certainly not going to see my picture. I'm not sure I'm qualified to do certified, angel-type work.
I'm sure the shepherds, in Luke's account of the birth of Jesus, probably felt the same way. They were sort of among the "untouchables" of Palestinian society. Their work kept them dirty and prevented them from keeping Jewish kosher laws and observing many of the religious rituals. The closest thing to shepherds in modern-day life in the Midwest might be carnival workers. That interesting tribe of folks who move from town to town and set up the rides.
Even though I'm not qualified to be an angel, God asks me to show up every Christmas and tell the story. Explain to a room full of people what the birth of Jesus means. Some of the folks are half-asleep, still trying to recover from that second slice of pie at dinner. Some are grouchy because they have been dragged to church against their will. A few are intoxicated. And there are a few who are leaning forward on their chair, longing to hear a word from God.
This Christmas I was fighting a cold. I was tired and distracted. If I were a pitcher -and I suppose every preacher is a pitcher- this Christmas I would have told my "manager", "I don't think I have good stuff, Skipper."
So I felt off my game. Wooden. The music was astounding...beautiful... inspiring. The dancers were a delight. The Christmas video was just right. And I felt tired. Wooden. The words tumbling out of my mouth and falling to the ground. Instead of soaring what I had to say seemed to fall to the ground...nearly lifeless.
The good news, of course, is that Jesus is still born. Despite what I may feel like or the quality of my work. Jesus is still born. God still comes. Salvation has to do with the grace of an all-powerful love and is not dependent on my ability to be always "up." Always "on." Always able to bring the 90-mile fastball.
Sometimes God calls unlikely characters to carry a message. I wonder if any of the shepherds were distracted or tired. I wonder if they were feeling the cold or worrying about the sheep that had been left behind.
It's cool that they still showed up, isn't it?
I'm sure the shepherds, in Luke's account of the birth of Jesus, probably felt the same way. They were sort of among the "untouchables" of Palestinian society. Their work kept them dirty and prevented them from keeping Jewish kosher laws and observing many of the religious rituals. The closest thing to shepherds in modern-day life in the Midwest might be carnival workers. That interesting tribe of folks who move from town to town and set up the rides.
Even though I'm not qualified to be an angel, God asks me to show up every Christmas and tell the story. Explain to a room full of people what the birth of Jesus means. Some of the folks are half-asleep, still trying to recover from that second slice of pie at dinner. Some are grouchy because they have been dragged to church against their will. A few are intoxicated. And there are a few who are leaning forward on their chair, longing to hear a word from God.
This Christmas I was fighting a cold. I was tired and distracted. If I were a pitcher -and I suppose every preacher is a pitcher- this Christmas I would have told my "manager", "I don't think I have good stuff, Skipper."
So I felt off my game. Wooden. The music was astounding...beautiful... inspiring. The dancers were a delight. The Christmas video was just right. And I felt tired. Wooden. The words tumbling out of my mouth and falling to the ground. Instead of soaring what I had to say seemed to fall to the ground...nearly lifeless.
The good news, of course, is that Jesus is still born. Despite what I may feel like or the quality of my work. Jesus is still born. God still comes. Salvation has to do with the grace of an all-powerful love and is not dependent on my ability to be always "up." Always "on." Always able to bring the 90-mile fastball.
Sometimes God calls unlikely characters to carry a message. I wonder if any of the shepherds were distracted or tired. I wonder if they were feeling the cold or worrying about the sheep that had been left behind.
It's cool that they still showed up, isn't it?
Looking for Wrenches and Getting Trained.
In the days leading up to Christmas I found myself curious. About the best gifts or surprises people had received for Christmas. I mean beyond those deep, profound, spiritual gifts of faith in Christ, joy, God-given peace, or the healing of a broken relationship. I mean stuff. Under the tree. Wrapped up (or not).
A couple of gifts stand out in my memory. One was an o-gauge railroad set. I was in first grade. I walked into the living room of our apartment in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, beneath the Christmas tree there was this red, yellow and silver Santa Fe engine with rolling stock. It was a pretty special moment!
The second gift I remember most clearly is a very simple, GE-stereo made out of dark green plastic. With that came a membership in the Capitol Record Club. Which was a big deal for a teenager stuck in northwest Alaska where the only AM station played country and western music -long before C & W was cool.
For the last several years I have wanted to buy a very simple train set. Something that could be easily set-up. Maybe placed under the Christmas tree.
The day after Christmas my oldest son and I headed out to an area box store to get some wrenches. While we were looking over the tools I noticed a red sign that said 50% OFF CHRISTMAS ITEMS & TOYS. I have a collection of toys at home and in my office. So I walked over and found myself standing next to several boxes containing Lionel 0-gauge train sets. I looked at the boxes...studied the description of the train sets. I looked up at the sign announcing 50% off.
I don't mean to be blasphemous or anything, but it was like this shaft of light poured down on me and that Lionel train set. I'm not sure but I could almost swear I heard choirs of sales associates singing, "I've Been Working on the Railroad."
So I picked up the box, checked out, and returned home. When I walked into the house I asked my wife, Sharon, to close her eyes. I'd gone out looking for a wrench and came home with an o-gauge Chicago & North Western railroad set.
It's nothing fancy. It's nothing complicated. But my 16-month old granddaughter enjoys running it with me. Our faces light up when the train goes by and Ella presses the button that makes the whistle blow. Bryan, our oldest son, and I were chattering like kids as we reviewed a catalogue of high-end model railroad stuff.
Sometimes you go out looking for one thing and you come back with a whole lot more than you ever bargained for. So much more than you ever thought you'd find...or have.
Deep, eternal, life-changing joy is always a God-given gift. Which is almost always connected to knowing...being loved by...Jesus. In addition to this, though, there are these delightful, little joy moments that make our eyes light up in good ways. A deeply discounted 0-gauge railroad set, for example. Where the cars light up and smoke rings come out of the stack on the locomotive.
It's fun having fun.
I think "lighting up" at the little, good things in life is one sign that we're fully alive.
A couple of gifts stand out in my memory. One was an o-gauge railroad set. I was in first grade. I walked into the living room of our apartment in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, beneath the Christmas tree there was this red, yellow and silver Santa Fe engine with rolling stock. It was a pretty special moment!
The second gift I remember most clearly is a very simple, GE-stereo made out of dark green plastic. With that came a membership in the Capitol Record Club. Which was a big deal for a teenager stuck in northwest Alaska where the only AM station played country and western music -long before C & W was cool.
For the last several years I have wanted to buy a very simple train set. Something that could be easily set-up. Maybe placed under the Christmas tree.
The day after Christmas my oldest son and I headed out to an area box store to get some wrenches. While we were looking over the tools I noticed a red sign that said 50% OFF CHRISTMAS ITEMS & TOYS. I have a collection of toys at home and in my office. So I walked over and found myself standing next to several boxes containing Lionel 0-gauge train sets. I looked at the boxes...studied the description of the train sets. I looked up at the sign announcing 50% off.
I don't mean to be blasphemous or anything, but it was like this shaft of light poured down on me and that Lionel train set. I'm not sure but I could almost swear I heard choirs of sales associates singing, "I've Been Working on the Railroad."
So I picked up the box, checked out, and returned home. When I walked into the house I asked my wife, Sharon, to close her eyes. I'd gone out looking for a wrench and came home with an o-gauge Chicago & North Western railroad set.
It's nothing fancy. It's nothing complicated. But my 16-month old granddaughter enjoys running it with me. Our faces light up when the train goes by and Ella presses the button that makes the whistle blow. Bryan, our oldest son, and I were chattering like kids as we reviewed a catalogue of high-end model railroad stuff.
Sometimes you go out looking for one thing and you come back with a whole lot more than you ever bargained for. So much more than you ever thought you'd find...or have.
Deep, eternal, life-changing joy is always a God-given gift. Which is almost always connected to knowing...being loved by...Jesus. In addition to this, though, there are these delightful, little joy moments that make our eyes light up in good ways. A deeply discounted 0-gauge railroad set, for example. Where the cars light up and smoke rings come out of the stack on the locomotive.
It's fun having fun.
I think "lighting up" at the little, good things in life is one sign that we're fully alive.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Faith Enough to Sleep.
It doesn't happen often.
Usually I lay my head back on the pillow, at night, and am soon asleep.
Not last night, though.
Not last night.
After a long day I crawled into bed around midnight. Sleep never came. (And I had been careful to order a decafe coffee at an area bookstore when we stopped by around 9:30 last night!)
Every now and then I would check the clock. I slipped out of bed in the middle of the night so my tossing and turning wouldn't keep Sharon awake. Headed upstairs to the twin bed in my office at home.
As the clock approached six in the morning, I gave up the battle. Got up, showered, ironed a shirt, dressed, grabbed the morning paper, and made myself a bowl of cereal.
(Have you ever tried preaching three times without sleep? I'd not recommend it!)
I may be wide of the mark here, but I suspect the ability to sleep is tied to our confidence in God's ability to handle things in our absence. When we feel things depend on us then a part of us refuses to sleep.
Do I trust God enough to lay down all the heavy stuff I am trying to carry in my arms...my mind...my heart?
There is a beautiful story in the middle of the 8th chapter of Matthew's gospel. Jesus and the disciples get into a boat (8:23) to cross the Sea of Galilee. The freshwater lake was -and is- notorious for sudden storms. On the way across the lake a storm comes up. Matthew says the boat was about to be swamped by the waves. Verse 24 tells us Jesus was asleep in the bottom of the boat.
I love that detail.
The winds are raging, the craft is rocking, the water is slapping over the sides of the boat, and the Son of God is sound asleep! He didn't open his eyes until the frantic disciples woke him up as they shouted, "Save, Lord; we are perishing!" It is a picture of confidence in the ultimate power and goodness of the Father. It is a picture of peace.
As I lay my head down in the bottom of my small boat tonight I'll pray for that kind of peace. That kind of confidence. That kind of faith. Not just for me but for you...
Usually I lay my head back on the pillow, at night, and am soon asleep.
Not last night, though.
Not last night.
After a long day I crawled into bed around midnight. Sleep never came. (And I had been careful to order a decafe coffee at an area bookstore when we stopped by around 9:30 last night!)
Every now and then I would check the clock. I slipped out of bed in the middle of the night so my tossing and turning wouldn't keep Sharon awake. Headed upstairs to the twin bed in my office at home.
As the clock approached six in the morning, I gave up the battle. Got up, showered, ironed a shirt, dressed, grabbed the morning paper, and made myself a bowl of cereal.
(Have you ever tried preaching three times without sleep? I'd not recommend it!)
I may be wide of the mark here, but I suspect the ability to sleep is tied to our confidence in God's ability to handle things in our absence. When we feel things depend on us then a part of us refuses to sleep.
Do I trust God enough to lay down all the heavy stuff I am trying to carry in my arms...my mind...my heart?
There is a beautiful story in the middle of the 8th chapter of Matthew's gospel. Jesus and the disciples get into a boat (8:23) to cross the Sea of Galilee. The freshwater lake was -and is- notorious for sudden storms. On the way across the lake a storm comes up. Matthew says the boat was about to be swamped by the waves. Verse 24 tells us Jesus was asleep in the bottom of the boat.
I love that detail.
The winds are raging, the craft is rocking, the water is slapping over the sides of the boat, and the Son of God is sound asleep! He didn't open his eyes until the frantic disciples woke him up as they shouted, "Save, Lord; we are perishing!" It is a picture of confidence in the ultimate power and goodness of the Father. It is a picture of peace.
As I lay my head down in the bottom of my small boat tonight I'll pray for that kind of peace. That kind of confidence. That kind of faith. Not just for me but for you...
The Importance of the "G" Word (Goodbye)..
There are different pieces to the art of living well. There are different pieces to the mystery of being a pastor.
One of those is the art of saying "goodbye." When I talk with pastors and lay people I say I am really good at leaving. Saying "goodbye." We're not even close to saying that in this current chapter of life. It'll be a long while, I hunch, before I pack my boxes and leave Trinity. Move on.
But I'm good at leaving. Good at saying "goodbye." I never slip out a side door. I do my best to look people straight in the eyes, tell them I am leaving, tell them what they have meant to me, and tell them why it is time to go. I do my very best to bless the ones who have been walking with me during the current chapter. And I leave. I don't hover. I don't keep ducking back to check up on everyone. To see how my successor is doing. Like the nervous parent of a pre-schooler who isn't sure their child is going to be okay after being left at nursery school. I face people, I linger, I bless people, I say "goodbye," and I head out the door.
We do a pretty good job of welcoming people into the community of the church. We have new member classes. We have a formal ceremony in worship as people take the vows of membership. We hand people a certificate. Shake their hands.
Leaving? That is a different story. Too often people just slip out a side door. I spoke with a friend the other day. Said we had missed them in worship. He kindly explained we hadn't seen them because they were worshipping elsewhere. Okay.
I think people duck out the side door because they feel guilty about leaving a church. Not always. But often. They worry about how people will react. They may have seen other people loaded down with a "guilt trip" when they decided it was time to move on. So they slip out the side door.
Saying "goodbye" is important. When we don't have the chance to say "goodbye" I feel like we have all been cheated. Because we've shared some pretty important moments together.
A friend who serves an area church says, "Just tell me goodbye as you leave. Don't just disappear. I prayed with you through that job search eight years ago. When your daughter was arrested I went to court with you. We went on a mission trip to New Orleans together, and stood side by side rebuilding houses. So don't slip out of my life...our lives...without saying goodbye. It's okay. I'll still love you. We can be friends. If you need to leave then go ahead and leave. But say goodbye."
The summer after his senior year at Elkhart Central, our youngest song would play his favorite CD's after getting home from Creation Windows. One of the songs I heard coming from his room was Andrea Bocelli's "Time to Say Goodbye." It wasn't rock and roll. Seemed like an odd choice.
Tonight, as I wait for Michael to drive down from Chicago O'Hare for Christmas, I am wondering if he played that song as a way of saying goodbye. Sometimes the heart stuff is too much. Words can't hold everything we're saying or feeling. So he played the song. Day after day. Through that summer. Preparing us all for a chapter that was ending, and helping us prepare for the chapter ahead.
The Gospel of John is unique, among the four gospels, for the number of chapters used to describe the last few days Jesus spent with his friends in Jerusalem prior to his arrest. We're told about the last supper, the washing of the disciples' feet, and John reports -in great detail- the "high priestly prayer" Jesus offers on behalf of his friends. God shows us all sorts of truth in the account of those last few days, but one lesson is how much energy Jesus invested in saying goodbye. He didn't slip out a side door. He told his friends what was happening. He told them why it was happening. And he blessed them.
Part of living well is learning the importance of the "G" word.
Don't slip out the side door. Of church. Or of any other significant relationships in your life. Take the time to say goodbye. Heart work can be tough but we'll all survive. The people who love you just want a chance to bless you.
When it's "Time to Say Goodbye" do just that.
One of those is the art of saying "goodbye." When I talk with pastors and lay people I say I am really good at leaving. Saying "goodbye." We're not even close to saying that in this current chapter of life. It'll be a long while, I hunch, before I pack my boxes and leave Trinity. Move on.
But I'm good at leaving. Good at saying "goodbye." I never slip out a side door. I do my best to look people straight in the eyes, tell them I am leaving, tell them what they have meant to me, and tell them why it is time to go. I do my very best to bless the ones who have been walking with me during the current chapter. And I leave. I don't hover. I don't keep ducking back to check up on everyone. To see how my successor is doing. Like the nervous parent of a pre-schooler who isn't sure their child is going to be okay after being left at nursery school. I face people, I linger, I bless people, I say "goodbye," and I head out the door.
We do a pretty good job of welcoming people into the community of the church. We have new member classes. We have a formal ceremony in worship as people take the vows of membership. We hand people a certificate. Shake their hands.
Leaving? That is a different story. Too often people just slip out a side door. I spoke with a friend the other day. Said we had missed them in worship. He kindly explained we hadn't seen them because they were worshipping elsewhere. Okay.
I think people duck out the side door because they feel guilty about leaving a church. Not always. But often. They worry about how people will react. They may have seen other people loaded down with a "guilt trip" when they decided it was time to move on. So they slip out the side door.
Saying "goodbye" is important. When we don't have the chance to say "goodbye" I feel like we have all been cheated. Because we've shared some pretty important moments together.
A friend who serves an area church says, "Just tell me goodbye as you leave. Don't just disappear. I prayed with you through that job search eight years ago. When your daughter was arrested I went to court with you. We went on a mission trip to New Orleans together, and stood side by side rebuilding houses. So don't slip out of my life...our lives...without saying goodbye. It's okay. I'll still love you. We can be friends. If you need to leave then go ahead and leave. But say goodbye."
The summer after his senior year at Elkhart Central, our youngest song would play his favorite CD's after getting home from Creation Windows. One of the songs I heard coming from his room was Andrea Bocelli's "Time to Say Goodbye." It wasn't rock and roll. Seemed like an odd choice.
Tonight, as I wait for Michael to drive down from Chicago O'Hare for Christmas, I am wondering if he played that song as a way of saying goodbye. Sometimes the heart stuff is too much. Words can't hold everything we're saying or feeling. So he played the song. Day after day. Through that summer. Preparing us all for a chapter that was ending, and helping us prepare for the chapter ahead.
The Gospel of John is unique, among the four gospels, for the number of chapters used to describe the last few days Jesus spent with his friends in Jerusalem prior to his arrest. We're told about the last supper, the washing of the disciples' feet, and John reports -in great detail- the "high priestly prayer" Jesus offers on behalf of his friends. God shows us all sorts of truth in the account of those last few days, but one lesson is how much energy Jesus invested in saying goodbye. He didn't slip out a side door. He told his friends what was happening. He told them why it was happening. And he blessed them.
Part of living well is learning the importance of the "G" word.
Don't slip out the side door. Of church. Or of any other significant relationships in your life. Take the time to say goodbye. Heart work can be tough but we'll all survive. The people who love you just want a chance to bless you.
When it's "Time to Say Goodbye" do just that.
The Church Ain't MGM.
Years ago the MGM film studio put out a compilation of scenes from some of their more famous movies in the form of a feature-length film. "That's Entertainment!" they called it. Later, the studio released a sequel.
More than twenty-five years ago some good folks in the church came up with something called "seeker sensitive worship." People like Bill Hybels of Willow Creek and Rick Warren of Saddleback and Walt Kallestad of Community (Lutheran) Church of Joy looked around, saw that too much Christian worship was irrelevant. They saw the church using language and symbols that got in the way of communicating the Christian message with ordinary folks who had no church background. The style of worship and preaching was static that was keeping people from hearing God.
So there was this powerful impulse to reach ordinary, unchurched people with the amazing story of God's love in Jesus Christ. Use language and images people would understand. Robes were replaced with bluejeans or khaki slacks and knit shirts. Choirs were replaced by Christian rock bands or "praise teams." The cross was taken down and worship teams began using film clips, dramas, and the latest in sound/light technology. People talked more about the type of coffee served in the coffee cafe than they did the bread and wine of communion.
We've been in this era of "seeker sensitive" worship and that approach has produced a lot of fruit. Lives have been changed. The era of the "mega church" arrived big time as churches with thousands in attendance dotted the landscape.
Like every movement, though, this movement of "seeker sensitive" worship has its limitations. The folks at Willow Creek, through their Reveal survey, have discovered that mass gatherings of people don't necessarily lead to spiritual growth. Worship has become, more and more, a passive event. People come into great auditoriums, hear outstanding musicians sing great music, watch professionally done dramas, and hear outstanding teachers
- but too many of them aren't growing spiritually. Churches are full of passive religious consumers rather than active disciples. There is all sorts of talk about community but precious real intimacy -with God or other people. (Someone sent me a note recently and told me they are glad to be in a church where people know their name!)
Last week I came across an article by Walt Kallested titled "Moving from Entertainment to Worship." The church he leads in Phoenix had a state-of-the-art campus, a tremendous staff, and 12,000 attenders each weekend. But Walt looked around and realized too many were just being entertained. People were coming because Community of Joy had great music or great children's programs or great teachers - but people weren't building meaningful relationships with other people or with God!
So the church changed direction. They focused on real worship rather than entertainment. They challenged people to stop watching and risk commitment. The changes in the church caused attendance to drop from 12,000 to 8,000.
Our church isn't in the "weight class" of a Granger Community or a Willow Creek or a Saddleback or a Church of the Resurrection (UMC), but I think we are facing some of the same challenges. God is doing all kinds of great stuff at Trinity - just amazing stuff. Lives are being changed. The community is being blessed. Jesus is being lifted up and presented to those who do not yet know him. And yet...
And yet we have folks who are sort of here and sort of not. They are ready to consume spiritual good and services, but they are unwilling to make a commitment. They're sort of here...as long as everything is cool. As long as the next church down the road isn't offering a better deal...better coffee, better youth ministry, better parking, better visuals, better music or a more entertaining teaching style.
What ends up happening, of course, is we end up shuttling people back and forth. We get folks coming our way from other churches. They discover us and think we're the best thing since sliced bread. And there are people who have been here for months...for years...heading out the door. Sometimes for good reasons. Sometimes because they are moving or it is just time...but often because there is the next, cool thing down the road. We send folks to GCC and they send folks to us. Crossroads picks up people from St. John's Episcopal and St. Thomas picks up people from Belmont Mennonite. We shuttle people back and forth but are people growing?
It all seems a little like the way people embrace a restaurant when it opens up. Folks line up to sample the menu. Experience the decor. Things are different. Not like the old place where we've been eating for years. This new place has pizza with extra thin crust. We've enjoyed deep dish pizza at our last "favorite" place but now we just sort of enjoy something different... so we go to the new place until someone else opens up down the street.
God is leading us, at Trinity United Methodist, towards a conversation about all of this. We're going to be talking about the absolute necessity of people -in the words of Walt Kallestad- "breaking out of their private, cocooned lives and fully engag(ing) with God and his people."
We'll continue to strive for worship and ministries that are creative, faithful and beautiful. We'll continue to try and meet human need. We'll continue to try and share the Good News in a language those ordinary folks outside the church will understand. But the church ain't all about entertainment
- it's about being loving God with our whole heart, loving our neighbors as ourselves, and transforming the world through service.
A lot of pastors and lay leaders say they are tired of running an "entertainment" machine. They are tired of trying to "sell" programs to indifferent consumers who insist that church is all about having their needs met. We're hungry for something deeper...something more real. And I think you are, too.
More than twenty-five years ago some good folks in the church came up with something called "seeker sensitive worship." People like Bill Hybels of Willow Creek and Rick Warren of Saddleback and Walt Kallestad of Community (Lutheran) Church of Joy looked around, saw that too much Christian worship was irrelevant. They saw the church using language and symbols that got in the way of communicating the Christian message with ordinary folks who had no church background. The style of worship and preaching was static that was keeping people from hearing God.
So there was this powerful impulse to reach ordinary, unchurched people with the amazing story of God's love in Jesus Christ. Use language and images people would understand. Robes were replaced with bluejeans or khaki slacks and knit shirts. Choirs were replaced by Christian rock bands or "praise teams." The cross was taken down and worship teams began using film clips, dramas, and the latest in sound/light technology. People talked more about the type of coffee served in the coffee cafe than they did the bread and wine of communion.
We've been in this era of "seeker sensitive" worship and that approach has produced a lot of fruit. Lives have been changed. The era of the "mega church" arrived big time as churches with thousands in attendance dotted the landscape.
Like every movement, though, this movement of "seeker sensitive" worship has its limitations. The folks at Willow Creek, through their Reveal survey, have discovered that mass gatherings of people don't necessarily lead to spiritual growth. Worship has become, more and more, a passive event. People come into great auditoriums, hear outstanding musicians sing great music, watch professionally done dramas, and hear outstanding teachers
- but too many of them aren't growing spiritually. Churches are full of passive religious consumers rather than active disciples. There is all sorts of talk about community but precious real intimacy -with God or other people. (Someone sent me a note recently and told me they are glad to be in a church where people know their name!)
Last week I came across an article by Walt Kallested titled "Moving from Entertainment to Worship." The church he leads in Phoenix had a state-of-the-art campus, a tremendous staff, and 12,000 attenders each weekend. But Walt looked around and realized too many were just being entertained. People were coming because Community of Joy had great music or great children's programs or great teachers - but people weren't building meaningful relationships with other people or with God!
So the church changed direction. They focused on real worship rather than entertainment. They challenged people to stop watching and risk commitment. The changes in the church caused attendance to drop from 12,000 to 8,000.
Our church isn't in the "weight class" of a Granger Community or a Willow Creek or a Saddleback or a Church of the Resurrection (UMC), but I think we are facing some of the same challenges. God is doing all kinds of great stuff at Trinity - just amazing stuff. Lives are being changed. The community is being blessed. Jesus is being lifted up and presented to those who do not yet know him. And yet...
And yet we have folks who are sort of here and sort of not. They are ready to consume spiritual good and services, but they are unwilling to make a commitment. They're sort of here...as long as everything is cool. As long as the next church down the road isn't offering a better deal...better coffee, better youth ministry, better parking, better visuals, better music or a more entertaining teaching style.
What ends up happening, of course, is we end up shuttling people back and forth. We get folks coming our way from other churches. They discover us and think we're the best thing since sliced bread. And there are people who have been here for months...for years...heading out the door. Sometimes for good reasons. Sometimes because they are moving or it is just time...but often because there is the next, cool thing down the road. We send folks to GCC and they send folks to us. Crossroads picks up people from St. John's Episcopal and St. Thomas picks up people from Belmont Mennonite. We shuttle people back and forth but are people growing?
It all seems a little like the way people embrace a restaurant when it opens up. Folks line up to sample the menu. Experience the decor. Things are different. Not like the old place where we've been eating for years. This new place has pizza with extra thin crust. We've enjoyed deep dish pizza at our last "favorite" place but now we just sort of enjoy something different... so we go to the new place until someone else opens up down the street.
God is leading us, at Trinity United Methodist, towards a conversation about all of this. We're going to be talking about the absolute necessity of people -in the words of Walt Kallestad- "breaking out of their private, cocooned lives and fully engag(ing) with God and his people."
We'll continue to strive for worship and ministries that are creative, faithful and beautiful. We'll continue to try and meet human need. We'll continue to try and share the Good News in a language those ordinary folks outside the church will understand. But the church ain't all about entertainment
- it's about being loving God with our whole heart, loving our neighbors as ourselves, and transforming the world through service.
A lot of pastors and lay leaders say they are tired of running an "entertainment" machine. They are tired of trying to "sell" programs to indifferent consumers who insist that church is all about having their needs met. We're hungry for something deeper...something more real. And I think you are, too.
Monday, December 8, 2008
The Parade Goes On.
Parades are a part of the American holiday tradition. You might even catch the adults in the house watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. The person in the recliner may have a Ph. D. in Semitic Languages and they'll be fascinated with that 7-story tall balloon of Snoopy. The football bowl season rolls around and people are glued to their tv watching things like the Rose Bowl Parade.
Churches have their own kinds of parades, but they usually don't include a 7-story tall Snoopy Balloon. Our parades involve people.
It's been thirty years since I first arrived at Trinity as an associate pastor fresh out of seminary. Oh, I slipped away -with the help of the Bishop- and served other churches in other areas for fourteen years- so we haven't been here non-stop for three decades.
But we've been with these folks, off and on, for thirty years. People who were in their late 40's are now in their late 70's.
What I've been privileged to witness is a parade of saints. Oh, I don't mean perfect people. Most folks get confused and think saints are perfect people. They're not. Saints are people who have been saved by the grace of Jesus Christ, and who have been set apart by God for a mission...a cause... a holy purpose.
There has been this parade of saints. People like Ross Richey and Helen DeWeese and Hewitt Grove and Virginia Manley and Jeff Holdread and Alexis Bujtas and Randy Robertson.
Ross was a retired Methodist pastor who went blind shortly after retiring, and then kept loving...serving...figured out how to help other blind people. He's gone. Ross is gone. Helen was a parish visitor. She loved encouraging and visiting people who couldn't really get out any more. Helen is gone. Hewitt is 92 years old and he has suffered more losses than a soul should experience in this life. He walks with a cane, has a smile that lights up the room, and comes at the world with a handshake that can turn coal into diamonds. Jeff is a business executive who shares my love of IU basketball. He has this twinkle in his eye...loves God...and has a heart that beats with compassion for all sorts of folks. Alexis is in elementary school and had one of the leads in our Christmas pageant last weekend. She has a deep soul, I think...is well connected to God...and has this thing about telling people she is thankful for them. Randy is an insurance agent who visits the hospitals every week...handing out magazines for people to read. He is just an amazing man... And there is Virginia.
Virginia's body gave out yesterday. She'd been ill for a long time. Virginia was something! She was an educator. She loved children. She had a razor sharp mind, was a clear thinker, and demanded clear thinking from others. Virginia, after retiring, helped our community start a volunteer tutoring outreach in our elementary schools. When new lay leaders or church staff would take their place at Trinity, I would say something like this: "There are people who, when they speak, you need to listen to what they say. They won't be right all the time but they'll be on the money about 80-90% of the time." Virginia was one of those people. She touched more lives than I can imagine.
We'll have her "Service of Death and Resurrection" in the sanctuary on Wednesday morning of this week.
There is this parade of saints. They're not perfect. Each one has had their share of struggles. Made their share of mistakes. But God's light has this way of shining through each one of them...in a unique way.
Their example, their prayers, their faith and grace, have this way of nudging the rest of us along. Hebrews 12:1-2 says: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith."
There is this parade. Sometimes you watch it. And sometimes you can't resist the impulse to step in, join the others, and start walking towards Jerusalem.
Churches have their own kinds of parades, but they usually don't include a 7-story tall Snoopy Balloon. Our parades involve people.
It's been thirty years since I first arrived at Trinity as an associate pastor fresh out of seminary. Oh, I slipped away -with the help of the Bishop- and served other churches in other areas for fourteen years- so we haven't been here non-stop for three decades.
But we've been with these folks, off and on, for thirty years. People who were in their late 40's are now in their late 70's.
What I've been privileged to witness is a parade of saints. Oh, I don't mean perfect people. Most folks get confused and think saints are perfect people. They're not. Saints are people who have been saved by the grace of Jesus Christ, and who have been set apart by God for a mission...a cause... a holy purpose.
There has been this parade of saints. People like Ross Richey and Helen DeWeese and Hewitt Grove and Virginia Manley and Jeff Holdread and Alexis Bujtas and Randy Robertson.
Ross was a retired Methodist pastor who went blind shortly after retiring, and then kept loving...serving...figured out how to help other blind people. He's gone. Ross is gone. Helen was a parish visitor. She loved encouraging and visiting people who couldn't really get out any more. Helen is gone. Hewitt is 92 years old and he has suffered more losses than a soul should experience in this life. He walks with a cane, has a smile that lights up the room, and comes at the world with a handshake that can turn coal into diamonds. Jeff is a business executive who shares my love of IU basketball. He has this twinkle in his eye...loves God...and has a heart that beats with compassion for all sorts of folks. Alexis is in elementary school and had one of the leads in our Christmas pageant last weekend. She has a deep soul, I think...is well connected to God...and has this thing about telling people she is thankful for them. Randy is an insurance agent who visits the hospitals every week...handing out magazines for people to read. He is just an amazing man... And there is Virginia.
Virginia's body gave out yesterday. She'd been ill for a long time. Virginia was something! She was an educator. She loved children. She had a razor sharp mind, was a clear thinker, and demanded clear thinking from others. Virginia, after retiring, helped our community start a volunteer tutoring outreach in our elementary schools. When new lay leaders or church staff would take their place at Trinity, I would say something like this: "There are people who, when they speak, you need to listen to what they say. They won't be right all the time but they'll be on the money about 80-90% of the time." Virginia was one of those people. She touched more lives than I can imagine.
We'll have her "Service of Death and Resurrection" in the sanctuary on Wednesday morning of this week.
There is this parade of saints. They're not perfect. Each one has had their share of struggles. Made their share of mistakes. But God's light has this way of shining through each one of them...in a unique way.
Their example, their prayers, their faith and grace, have this way of nudging the rest of us along. Hebrews 12:1-2 says: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith."
There is this parade. Sometimes you watch it. And sometimes you can't resist the impulse to step in, join the others, and start walking towards Jerusalem.
Rivers of Joy and Creeks of Sadness.
Overwhelming joy. Joy that, like some river which refuses to be contained, insists on spilling over and covering everything in sight.
That's sort of what life was like around our church this past weekend: overwhelming joy.
Things got started on Thursday afternoon and evening. We're adjacent to a public elementary school. Our congregation cares about those kids and their families. We do things like sponsoring the school's back-to-school cook out. We grill and serve the food...help direct foot traffic.
The students were having their Christmas/ holiday program in our church gymnasium/multi-purpose room Thursday night. We offer the school our facility. There's no cost. It is a great place for the program...the school doesn't have anything like it. In the afternoon the teachers walked them over to the gym...with its lighted Christmas tree and lights running the length of the stage. It was cool! Then, Thursday night nearly 1,000 students, parents and relatives filled our Trinity Life Center. Oh, man...
The flood of joy continued Saturday morning as we hosted "evaluation day" for our Upward Basketball program. It was a snowy, cold morning. Cars pulled up from 8:30 to 2:30, parents and their children came into the TLC, and you should have seen their faces! The kids could hear basketballs bouncing off the hardwood floor, and their faces lit up. Scores of volunteers from the church -men and women- were working with the kids. Last year we had about 140 children in the league...so far we have 287 signed up! In our first year of Upward Cheerleading we have more than 55 girls already registered. There was joy...and tons of sweaty little kids...everywhere you looked.
There was worship Saturday night and Sunday morning. All the services are places where the living Christ shows up, but Saturday night something special was going on. People were worshipping...the room was warm... the lights were beautiful. It was just right...
The river of joy continued into Sunday night as the children of Trinity put on their Christmas pageant in the TLC. They were awesome...parents and grandparents were nearly coming out of their chairs with pride and delight as the children sang their songs...delivered their lines.
It was almost too much! Sort of the way, when the family would get together, my Grandpa Owen would keep delivering more food to the table... long after you had eaten more than enough. So much joy...it left me beaming and almost exhausted.
And then there is the other side of life. I did something to my right hand late last summer while skiing at Hamilton Lake. The thing has gotten worse through the fall. Tingling and numbness...becoming more pronounced. So my family physician sent me to a hand specialist. During the morning's appointment (the hand will be as good as new after some minor surgery in January) the nurse asked for my medical history...my family history. I sat there answering her questions and suddenly I felt like weeping. Somehow that conversation tapped into an underground creek of sadness. Usually, I do pretty well getting along without the people I have loved who have gone to God's house. But sometimes I miss them... I really miss them. I studied the ceiling tiles, took a deep breath, and looked away from the nurse.
I regard it all as a gift from God. The rivers of joy and the creeks of sadness: I regard it all as a gift from God.
That's sort of what life was like around our church this past weekend: overwhelming joy.
Things got started on Thursday afternoon and evening. We're adjacent to a public elementary school. Our congregation cares about those kids and their families. We do things like sponsoring the school's back-to-school cook out. We grill and serve the food...help direct foot traffic.
The students were having their Christmas/ holiday program in our church gymnasium/multi-purpose room Thursday night. We offer the school our facility. There's no cost. It is a great place for the program...the school doesn't have anything like it. In the afternoon the teachers walked them over to the gym...with its lighted Christmas tree and lights running the length of the stage. It was cool! Then, Thursday night nearly 1,000 students, parents and relatives filled our Trinity Life Center. Oh, man...
The flood of joy continued Saturday morning as we hosted "evaluation day" for our Upward Basketball program. It was a snowy, cold morning. Cars pulled up from 8:30 to 2:30, parents and their children came into the TLC, and you should have seen their faces! The kids could hear basketballs bouncing off the hardwood floor, and their faces lit up. Scores of volunteers from the church -men and women- were working with the kids. Last year we had about 140 children in the league...so far we have 287 signed up! In our first year of Upward Cheerleading we have more than 55 girls already registered. There was joy...and tons of sweaty little kids...everywhere you looked.
There was worship Saturday night and Sunday morning. All the services are places where the living Christ shows up, but Saturday night something special was going on. People were worshipping...the room was warm... the lights were beautiful. It was just right...
The river of joy continued into Sunday night as the children of Trinity put on their Christmas pageant in the TLC. They were awesome...parents and grandparents were nearly coming out of their chairs with pride and delight as the children sang their songs...delivered their lines.
It was almost too much! Sort of the way, when the family would get together, my Grandpa Owen would keep delivering more food to the table... long after you had eaten more than enough. So much joy...it left me beaming and almost exhausted.
And then there is the other side of life. I did something to my right hand late last summer while skiing at Hamilton Lake. The thing has gotten worse through the fall. Tingling and numbness...becoming more pronounced. So my family physician sent me to a hand specialist. During the morning's appointment (the hand will be as good as new after some minor surgery in January) the nurse asked for my medical history...my family history. I sat there answering her questions and suddenly I felt like weeping. Somehow that conversation tapped into an underground creek of sadness. Usually, I do pretty well getting along without the people I have loved who have gone to God's house. But sometimes I miss them... I really miss them. I studied the ceiling tiles, took a deep breath, and looked away from the nurse.
I regard it all as a gift from God. The rivers of joy and the creeks of sadness: I regard it all as a gift from God.
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