One of my seminary professors (who happens to be a rather prolific author) is fond of saying that one of the most amazing things about Jesus is his expectation that people can change. It is really rather stunning to see him speaking with the Samaritan woman at the well, whose life is a series of failed relationships, speaking as if a new kind of life for her is within reach. Jesus goes to the home of a tax collector, breaks bread, and somehow the man whose life has been built on greed becomes a giver.
People had this way of changing when Jesus got involved in their lives. When people hung out with Jesus, when they had him over for a meal, when they asked questions of him and listened, and when they stood on a hill outside Jerusalem and watched him die, they changed. Not all of them. But many of them.
It's stunning to see this. Especially in a world where we are told, as children, that "you can't teach an old dog new tricks" or "a leopard can't change its spots."
So this evening, as we tip-toe up to the start of a new year, I am thinking of change. How exciting the prospect of change may be for those of us who are stuck in lifeless, frustrating, soul-numbing, broken places.
Perhaps it is possible not only for people to change but for nations. And for churches. Which is a good thing...because while there is beauty and grace in most churches the truth is that many congregations are turned inward. Not only are too many churches focused on being a provider of religious services that will please constituents but the church has too often fallen silent in the face of injustice and profound human need.
Change is never easy. Change rarely comes quickly. But with God there is the possibility of change...new life. Jesus says if we take his love and truth into our lives (he talks about himself as bread that brings life to those who receive it) then we can live in new, eternal, free, right ways.
Remember that tonight (or today...or whenever you read this), okay? The Carpenter shows up and leopards change their spots, old dogs learn new tricks, tax collectors start giving money away to make things right, and a Samaritan woman stops trying to fill the hole in her heart with one more boyfriend.
Showing posts with label change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label change. Show all posts
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Saturday, June 25, 2011
The Sad Heart Says the Journey is Worth It
Every day I am in Bloomington I see evidence that God has me in the right place. Confirmation of the rightness of this setting for ministry is all around me.
And yet, at the same time, the advent of summer has meant the onset of a pretty deep level of grief. There are a variety of factors to that, I think. A bit further down the road from old friends is certainly a part of it. Another part of it has been discovery, the reality, that I can't throw my gear in the back of the Miata and be at either Koontz Lake or Lake Webster in an hour to water ski. We could bounce over and back during the week and on the weekends. Whether or not I was preaching. So the summer confirms the fact that something has changed.
A colleague and fellow pastor named Paulwatched me go through a pretty profound greiving process when I left New Haven, and he told me he didn't think -and I agreed with him- I could survive another "uprooting." I know that is pretty dramatic language. And I know we all go through levels of grief as we pick up and move to the land the Lord is giving us. I suppose in some ways I "attach" too strongly to people and a place. Maybe a product of being a wandering Aramean as a child. Only a few of us have picked up and moved after a pastoral tenure of 14+ years (actually close to 20) so maybe the length multiplies the level of dis-location.
There's not a thing anyone needs to do or say about all of this. And the quiet sadness of the grief doesn't mean for a minute that I am anything but delighted to be in this place and with the blessed people of The Open Door/First UMC.
I thought, though, I would share two things I read in Christian Century while at the Y today. Carol Zaleski talks about the impact Virgil's Aenid had on C.S. Lewis. The Roman epic shaped his understanding of vocation. Aeneas obeys his calling and in Lewis' translation he says he is being led far over "alien foam." He says, "The mind remains unshaken while the vain tears fall." He speaks of Trojan women caught "Twixt miserable longing for the present land/And the far realms that call them by the fates' command."
In a conversation with Tolkien Lewis talked about the adult work of vocation. It's helpful for me to look at the journey as an opportunity to grow up, to grow deeper into Christ, and to understand that sometimes we are "men with a vocation, men on whom a burden is laid."
Dorothy L. Sayers, after reading the Aenid, said, "The effect is one of immense costliness of a vocation combined with a complete conviction that it is worth it.." Zaleski observes that Lewis understood "the poetry of vocation."
Whatever I am feeling is nothing compared to the challenges and tests in the lives of others. It pales to nothing when compared to the challenges before our friend, Stan Buck, or the losses endured by those living in Alabama, the Sudan, or Syria. But I thought it might be something I could share with friends.
In her book The Long Goodbye: A Memoir, Meghan O'Rourke talks about going through her mother's losing battle with cancer. She writes this: "I kept thinking, 'I just want somewhere to put my grief.' I was imaging a vessel for it: a long, shallow, wooden bowl, irregularly shaped. I had the sense that if I could chant, or rend my clothes...I Could, in effect, create that vessle in the world." But there was no ritual and she says "without ritual, the only way to share a loss was to talk about it."
God is good. I am so blessed. The work Jesus has for me among these blessed people is joy. After worship or a conversation or a meeting I sometimes almost dance down the hall! And, yet, there is always the heart.
The sad heart says the journey is worth it! Maybe you understand.
And yet, at the same time, the advent of summer has meant the onset of a pretty deep level of grief. There are a variety of factors to that, I think. A bit further down the road from old friends is certainly a part of it. Another part of it has been discovery, the reality, that I can't throw my gear in the back of the Miata and be at either Koontz Lake or Lake Webster in an hour to water ski. We could bounce over and back during the week and on the weekends. Whether or not I was preaching. So the summer confirms the fact that something has changed.
A colleague and fellow pastor named Paulwatched me go through a pretty profound greiving process when I left New Haven, and he told me he didn't think -and I agreed with him- I could survive another "uprooting." I know that is pretty dramatic language. And I know we all go through levels of grief as we pick up and move to the land the Lord is giving us. I suppose in some ways I "attach" too strongly to people and a place. Maybe a product of being a wandering Aramean as a child. Only a few of us have picked up and moved after a pastoral tenure of 14+ years (actually close to 20) so maybe the length multiplies the level of dis-location.
There's not a thing anyone needs to do or say about all of this. And the quiet sadness of the grief doesn't mean for a minute that I am anything but delighted to be in this place and with the blessed people of The Open Door/First UMC.
I thought, though, I would share two things I read in Christian Century while at the Y today. Carol Zaleski talks about the impact Virgil's Aenid had on C.S. Lewis. The Roman epic shaped his understanding of vocation. Aeneas obeys his calling and in Lewis' translation he says he is being led far over "alien foam." He says, "The mind remains unshaken while the vain tears fall." He speaks of Trojan women caught "Twixt miserable longing for the present land/And the far realms that call them by the fates' command."
In a conversation with Tolkien Lewis talked about the adult work of vocation. It's helpful for me to look at the journey as an opportunity to grow up, to grow deeper into Christ, and to understand that sometimes we are "men with a vocation, men on whom a burden is laid."
Dorothy L. Sayers, after reading the Aenid, said, "The effect is one of immense costliness of a vocation combined with a complete conviction that it is worth it.." Zaleski observes that Lewis understood "the poetry of vocation."
Whatever I am feeling is nothing compared to the challenges and tests in the lives of others. It pales to nothing when compared to the challenges before our friend, Stan Buck, or the losses endured by those living in Alabama, the Sudan, or Syria. But I thought it might be something I could share with friends.
In her book The Long Goodbye: A Memoir, Meghan O'Rourke talks about going through her mother's losing battle with cancer. She writes this: "I kept thinking, 'I just want somewhere to put my grief.' I was imaging a vessel for it: a long, shallow, wooden bowl, irregularly shaped. I had the sense that if I could chant, or rend my clothes...I Could, in effect, create that vessle in the world." But there was no ritual and she says "without ritual, the only way to share a loss was to talk about it."
God is good. I am so blessed. The work Jesus has for me among these blessed people is joy. After worship or a conversation or a meeting I sometimes almost dance down the hall! And, yet, there is always the heart.
The sad heart says the journey is worth it! Maybe you understand.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
God Is on the Other Side of the River.
We read the Bible stories so many times, perhaps, that we lose our ability to see how very real they all are. We know how the story ends, we know God shows up, and so that makes it very tough for us to see how scary it was for Abram and Sarai to pick up and head west towards Canaan. We know God is out there in Sinai, among the rocks and the dry ground and the wild wilderness, so it almost impossible for us to understand the fear in the gut of the Hebrews when Moses and Aaron led them away from the security of Egyptian slavery towards the unknown.
Where was Moses leading them? How was this going to end? They didn't really know and yet they packed their things -quickly!- and headed off. In the direction of two barriers that seemed impassable: the sea and the desert.
We've slipped into March. I am in a new place. The last time I "blogged" we were living north of highway 30. In Elkhart. Now we are south of that by a fair distance. Instead of looking out my study windows to see the St. Joseph River in Elkhart, which had become home in all sorts of deep ways, I look out my study window in Bloomington. To see a small hill on the other side of a creek. I wonder what the trees will look like, on that hill, when the leaves come in this spring.
The Christian way is a life that moves through death and discovers -when we live with God and for Jesus- resurrection on the other side. I have told close friends that my decision to be obedient to the whispers of God in the call to Bloomington meant that I have carried "the cross" of saying goodbye to people I love very, very much. The pain of that leaving was almost more than I could bear. (It was also true when we left New Haven back in 1996 for Elkhart: I thougth I was going to die. A close friend, my associate pastor there, said he thought I would never survive another move.)
Here is the discovery I have made: God is on the other side of the river. When the Hebrews, in Joshua 3, go across the Jordan River they discover God is at work on the other side of the river. There is life on the other side of the wandering time, the leaving chapter, even if it is in a place that isn't familiar as the place you have left.
Whatever river you are facing I want to tell you something I know, something I have experienced: God is on the other side of the river. God is over there in that new chapter with all of its questions and uncertainty.
I find myself being thankful. I find myself lighting up when I see the faces and hear the voices of those in Bloomington who are already becoming living treasure to me.
God is on the other side of the river. I want you to know that.
Where was Moses leading them? How was this going to end? They didn't really know and yet they packed their things -quickly!- and headed off. In the direction of two barriers that seemed impassable: the sea and the desert.
We've slipped into March. I am in a new place. The last time I "blogged" we were living north of highway 30. In Elkhart. Now we are south of that by a fair distance. Instead of looking out my study windows to see the St. Joseph River in Elkhart, which had become home in all sorts of deep ways, I look out my study window in Bloomington. To see a small hill on the other side of a creek. I wonder what the trees will look like, on that hill, when the leaves come in this spring.
The Christian way is a life that moves through death and discovers -when we live with God and for Jesus- resurrection on the other side. I have told close friends that my decision to be obedient to the whispers of God in the call to Bloomington meant that I have carried "the cross" of saying goodbye to people I love very, very much. The pain of that leaving was almost more than I could bear. (It was also true when we left New Haven back in 1996 for Elkhart: I thougth I was going to die. A close friend, my associate pastor there, said he thought I would never survive another move.)
Here is the discovery I have made: God is on the other side of the river. When the Hebrews, in Joshua 3, go across the Jordan River they discover God is at work on the other side of the river. There is life on the other side of the wandering time, the leaving chapter, even if it is in a place that isn't familiar as the place you have left.
Whatever river you are facing I want to tell you something I know, something I have experienced: God is on the other side of the river. God is over there in that new chapter with all of its questions and uncertainty.
I find myself being thankful. I find myself lighting up when I see the faces and hear the voices of those in Bloomington who are already becoming living treasure to me.
God is on the other side of the river. I want you to know that.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Things -and People- Change.
When you're young (if you're like me) you assume you'll put the world together in a certain way, just the way you like it, and things will stay that way. The right network of friends. The right spouse. The right children. The right job. The right house. Put everything together and then it will stay, right?
The truth is life is always changing.
I've been thinking about that a lot as our church staff goes through some changes.
Chris Lantz, a great young guy who has been our Trinity Life Center Director (and helped out with our visitation ministry to older adults), has moved on to be a seminary student and the student pastor at Cedar Lake UMC. Those folks are going to love Chris!
A wonderful young woman named Lori Grasty is coming in to lead our Upward Ministries (basketball and cheerleading) next season.
A wonderful couple, Steve and Sue Price, are going to step in and help lead our visitation ministries with older adults. Steve is also going to help us with pastoral visits to older adults.
Another wonderful TUMC member, Deb Smith, is stepping in to take over the part-time position of Director of Adult Discipleship & Small Groups.
Our Staff Parish Relations Committee was getting ready to look for a new leader of our Praise Team since Jacob Kisor will be leaving the area after getting married this coming summer when we learned that our Director of Music & Worship Ministries, Kristen Senne, will be leaving at the end of May.
So things change.
People change.
People come and go.
I don't like change. I don't like the work that goes into finding the right person for a position on our church ministry staff.
Except...except...God has a way of being able to work for good through times of change. As much as I hate to see good people, faithful people, live our team I also know that God is giving us a new opportunity to grow. In some new ways. In some new directions.
You never replace a person: I know that. People aren't parts in a machine where you can pull one out and replace it with an identical part. You don't replace people with a perfect copy of the preceding leader, but you go out to find someone who will do the job...in a new way. Someone who is gifted in their way. One person will never be their predecessor.
When there is change on our staff, we are looking for someone who:
The truth is life is always changing.
I've been thinking about that a lot as our church staff goes through some changes.
Chris Lantz, a great young guy who has been our Trinity Life Center Director (and helped out with our visitation ministry to older adults), has moved on to be a seminary student and the student pastor at Cedar Lake UMC. Those folks are going to love Chris!
A wonderful young woman named Lori Grasty is coming in to lead our Upward Ministries (basketball and cheerleading) next season.
A wonderful couple, Steve and Sue Price, are going to step in and help lead our visitation ministries with older adults. Steve is also going to help us with pastoral visits to older adults.
Another wonderful TUMC member, Deb Smith, is stepping in to take over the part-time position of Director of Adult Discipleship & Small Groups.
Our Staff Parish Relations Committee was getting ready to look for a new leader of our Praise Team since Jacob Kisor will be leaving the area after getting married this coming summer when we learned that our Director of Music & Worship Ministries, Kristen Senne, will be leaving at the end of May.
So things change.
People change.
People come and go.
I don't like change. I don't like the work that goes into finding the right person for a position on our church ministry staff.
Except...except...God has a way of being able to work for good through times of change. As much as I hate to see good people, faithful people, live our team I also know that God is giving us a new opportunity to grow. In some new ways. In some new directions.
You never replace a person: I know that. People aren't parts in a machine where you can pull one out and replace it with an identical part. You don't replace people with a perfect copy of the preceding leader, but you go out to find someone who will do the job...in a new way. Someone who is gifted in their way. One person will never be their predecessor.
When there is change on our staff, we are looking for someone who:
- Loves Jesus.
- Loves the imperfect community that is the Christian church (because Jesus died to give the church life), and loves the mission and ministry of Trinity United Methodist Church.
- Has the heart of a servant.
- Is coachable.
- Has a commitment to ministry as a team.
- Believes their role is equip the people of God to do the work of the church. Someone who builds teams.
- Knows their stuff...whether that is music, youth ministry, etc.
- Is gracious. Understands they are imperfect and the people they work with are imperfect.
- Committed to excellence in everything they do.
- Good work habits and the ability to follow through.
So we are in a season of change on our church staff. Not because there is some new, grand staffing plan. Not because of any crisis. It's just that things change. People come and go. You know?
So my heart aches for the friends who leave our place...step out of being a part of our everyday lives. And another part of my heart is eager to see the people God will bring to us...and how God's church will grow and bear new fruit.
Friday, January 1, 2010
What's New?
The act of opening up a new calendar brings with it this hope...that things will be different.
Not everything.
We -most of us- don't want everything to be different. Because there are some pretty cool parts of life. Even when the stock market was tanking, even when people were being laid off, even when people were panicking over H1N1, there has been good in 2009. So we don't want everything to change...to be different.
But there is something about opening that new calendar, looking at that white space on each day of January 2010, and for just a few moments our hearts beat a little faster with the prospect that we can overcome some self-destructive fear or addiction. For just a moment we think about starting over in a friendship or bringing new energy and passion to our marriage. Or with God.
Here's the thing: opening a new calendar doesn't mean a thing if we don't do life differently. And that will involve risk. I think about the short tax collector named Zacchaeus. We meet him in the New Testament. He has a reputation as a tool of the hated Roman Empire. He does their dirty work for them -draining tax dollars out of his Jewish neighbors and friends. And, my hunch tells me, he -like most tax collectors- bent the truth to get a little extra. Because everything extra went straight into the tax collector's pocket! So Jesus shows up, hangs out with Zacchaeus, and the man changes. Becomes a giver.
I wonder what people in that town thought when they heard Zacchaeus talking about giving back way more than he ever took from people unfairly. I wonder if people laughed. If they smiled when Zacchaeus talked about changing and said, "Yeah. Right. I'll believe it when I see it."
Sometimes we don't make it easy for people to change. We keep rubbing their noses in their past. Who they have been.
"What will you say 'no' to so that you can devote your life to the things that really count most?" I asked a friend the other day. I know it is a tough thing to do - and I am fearful that I won't have the courage to make the changes I know God needs for me to make in 2010.
A new calendar won't mean a thing if we don't make some different decisions.
Not everything.
We -most of us- don't want everything to be different. Because there are some pretty cool parts of life. Even when the stock market was tanking, even when people were being laid off, even when people were panicking over H1N1, there has been good in 2009. So we don't want everything to change...to be different.
But there is something about opening that new calendar, looking at that white space on each day of January 2010, and for just a few moments our hearts beat a little faster with the prospect that we can overcome some self-destructive fear or addiction. For just a moment we think about starting over in a friendship or bringing new energy and passion to our marriage. Or with God.
Here's the thing: opening a new calendar doesn't mean a thing if we don't do life differently. And that will involve risk. I think about the short tax collector named Zacchaeus. We meet him in the New Testament. He has a reputation as a tool of the hated Roman Empire. He does their dirty work for them -draining tax dollars out of his Jewish neighbors and friends. And, my hunch tells me, he -like most tax collectors- bent the truth to get a little extra. Because everything extra went straight into the tax collector's pocket! So Jesus shows up, hangs out with Zacchaeus, and the man changes. Becomes a giver.
I wonder what people in that town thought when they heard Zacchaeus talking about giving back way more than he ever took from people unfairly. I wonder if people laughed. If they smiled when Zacchaeus talked about changing and said, "Yeah. Right. I'll believe it when I see it."
Sometimes we don't make it easy for people to change. We keep rubbing their noses in their past. Who they have been.
"What will you say 'no' to so that you can devote your life to the things that really count most?" I asked a friend the other day. I know it is a tough thing to do - and I am fearful that I won't have the courage to make the changes I know God needs for me to make in 2010.
A new calendar won't mean a thing if we don't make some different decisions.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Always a Little Messy.
It is easy for the previous generation to look as if it were made up of giants...heroes who saw things clearly. They may have been more ordinary than we imagine.
Remember in high school when, as a freshman or sophomore, you regarded the seniors as if they were gods walking the earth? Then, you became a senior and you felt...so...ordinary.
It is also easy to think that the messy way we move through change, today, is very unlike the clear, thoughtful, courageous way our forefathers and foremothers worked through change. My hunch, though is change is almost always messy...and the people who lead through it are often making up things as they go along.
Right now the United Methodist Church in Indiana is going through lots of change. Two annual conferences becoming one. New structures being put in place. New leaders. New processes. On and on and on. This afternoon many of the pastors and laity of northcentral and northwestern Indiana met at LaPorte for the first meeting of the Northern District.
Our leader is the Reverend Cindy Reynolds. She is one cool person! And she will lead this new herd of cats with as much faith and love and courage as any human could muster, but the change will be messy. Progress will come with two steps forward and one step back.
Change is messy. We see that in Washington right now with the whole healthcare debate. We see that as our national leaders try to sort out options in Afghanistan. We see that in our own community as the leaders of Elkhart County scratch their heads, look at the challenges, and search for new ways forward.
Change is messy.
And it is often led by people who are doing their best to figure out the next step.
The early Christian church faced a huge decision: would Jewish Christians need to be circumcised before becoming Jesus followers and members of the Church. They held this big conference or council in Jerusalem. It looks pretty neat and simple and clean, if you look in the book of Acts, but the truth is I think it was a mess. Even with people praying and the guidance of the Holy Spirit.
So if you are frustrated by the mess in your life, our country, or your church...maybe that's just the way we get from here to there. The way progress and change takes place.
Remember in high school when, as a freshman or sophomore, you regarded the seniors as if they were gods walking the earth? Then, you became a senior and you felt...so...ordinary.
It is also easy to think that the messy way we move through change, today, is very unlike the clear, thoughtful, courageous way our forefathers and foremothers worked through change. My hunch, though is change is almost always messy...and the people who lead through it are often making up things as they go along.
Right now the United Methodist Church in Indiana is going through lots of change. Two annual conferences becoming one. New structures being put in place. New leaders. New processes. On and on and on. This afternoon many of the pastors and laity of northcentral and northwestern Indiana met at LaPorte for the first meeting of the Northern District.
Our leader is the Reverend Cindy Reynolds. She is one cool person! And she will lead this new herd of cats with as much faith and love and courage as any human could muster, but the change will be messy. Progress will come with two steps forward and one step back.
Change is messy. We see that in Washington right now with the whole healthcare debate. We see that as our national leaders try to sort out options in Afghanistan. We see that in our own community as the leaders of Elkhart County scratch their heads, look at the challenges, and search for new ways forward.
Change is messy.
And it is often led by people who are doing their best to figure out the next step.
The early Christian church faced a huge decision: would Jewish Christians need to be circumcised before becoming Jesus followers and members of the Church. They held this big conference or council in Jerusalem. It looks pretty neat and simple and clean, if you look in the book of Acts, but the truth is I think it was a mess. Even with people praying and the guidance of the Holy Spirit.
So if you are frustrated by the mess in your life, our country, or your church...maybe that's just the way we get from here to there. The way progress and change takes place.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Roster Changes.
Today we blessed a pastor named Tom Thews who has been on our pastoral staff here at church for the last three and a half years. He is a tall man. With a kind and loving heart. Cares for people and loves Jesus. Tom loves food and photography and his Triumph sports car.
So we had people contribute to a love gift. We invited the congregation to come together today for a noon catered meal. Paula Dill had balloons and cool signs all over the Fellowship Hall where the meal was held. People went into the Sanctuary for a blessing time. We sang a couple of hymns, people said some things, we gave them a gift, and then people gathered around Tom and Linda to pray for them...bless them.
As the lead pastor here I do everything I can to help our congregation thank the pastors who have loved us and served Jesus with us.
I love Tom. He is going to be nearby in a South Bend parish. We'll stay in touch and I expect to see a lot of him.
Still, I felt some sadness. God is going to use Tom and Linda in the new place. Trinity has good things ahead. God is good...God is generous. But I still felt sadness watching people approach Tom and Linda...talk with him... hug them.
A friend tells me grief is cumulative. And I have said "goodbye" to a lot of good friends who have been in ministry with me. I left the staff at Trinity years ago, when I was an associate pastor, and said goodbye to my senior pastor, Mark Blaising. As a lead pastor I have said goodbye to people like Milly McCann, Ted Jansen, Kurt Nichols, Kerry O'Brien, Toni Carmer, and now Tom. I feel every departure. Most of the people I have served with have become dear friends.
I work hard to keep my game face in place. To keep leading. Do my best to see that our church is leaning forward. Moving on. But inside my heart sags a little.
It isn't just a roster change: a friend has stepped out and moved on. They're not walking these halls. They're not on the other side of the wall where I can talk to them, easily. Ask questions. Work together to solve a problem. Laugh at the nuttiness of life.
It isn't just a roster change. Something has changed. For me. For us as a church. A piece of us will be missing because God has tapped Tom on the shoulder and said, "I need you in a new place."
The cool thing, of course, is each one of these people has left something of themselves with us. There is more joy and kindness in our life at Trinity because of Tom. He leaves that with us as a gift.
So we had people contribute to a love gift. We invited the congregation to come together today for a noon catered meal. Paula Dill had balloons and cool signs all over the Fellowship Hall where the meal was held. People went into the Sanctuary for a blessing time. We sang a couple of hymns, people said some things, we gave them a gift, and then people gathered around Tom and Linda to pray for them...bless them.
As the lead pastor here I do everything I can to help our congregation thank the pastors who have loved us and served Jesus with us.
I love Tom. He is going to be nearby in a South Bend parish. We'll stay in touch and I expect to see a lot of him.
Still, I felt some sadness. God is going to use Tom and Linda in the new place. Trinity has good things ahead. God is good...God is generous. But I still felt sadness watching people approach Tom and Linda...talk with him... hug them.
A friend tells me grief is cumulative. And I have said "goodbye" to a lot of good friends who have been in ministry with me. I left the staff at Trinity years ago, when I was an associate pastor, and said goodbye to my senior pastor, Mark Blaising. As a lead pastor I have said goodbye to people like Milly McCann, Ted Jansen, Kurt Nichols, Kerry O'Brien, Toni Carmer, and now Tom. I feel every departure. Most of the people I have served with have become dear friends.
I work hard to keep my game face in place. To keep leading. Do my best to see that our church is leaning forward. Moving on. But inside my heart sags a little.
It isn't just a roster change: a friend has stepped out and moved on. They're not walking these halls. They're not on the other side of the wall where I can talk to them, easily. Ask questions. Work together to solve a problem. Laugh at the nuttiness of life.
It isn't just a roster change. Something has changed. For me. For us as a church. A piece of us will be missing because God has tapped Tom on the shoulder and said, "I need you in a new place."
The cool thing, of course, is each one of these people has left something of themselves with us. There is more joy and kindness in our life at Trinity because of Tom. He leaves that with us as a gift.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
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.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Immovable Objects May Not Be.
Some things in life just never seem to change. The Detroit Lions losing on Thanksgiving Day. Leaves falling from the trees in northern Indiana in October and November. Cubs' fans waiting until next year. You know... there are some things that never seem to change.
That's true in our personal lives and relationships. I'm the oldest of seven children. Five of us have survived. Sometimes it seems like life has frozen us into a particular posture or position. Nothing seems to change.
One of my siblings and I have spent years sort of half seeing one another. There has been this thing -sadness, fear, resentment, a hope for change you dare not recognize because things seem stuck- between us. We'd smile at one another. We'd talk with one another. We'd offer a hug to one another when we would visit and when we would leave. But there was this thing between... Several times I would gulp, take a deep breath, and say something. Several times I would say, "Is there something we should talk about...because things don't seem right?" We never did...we never could.
Then, a week ago in Chicago, the two of us sat down in a restaurant. Just the two of us. We sat, we talked, we ate...for a couple of hours.
Do you know what? The thing between us is gone. It melted. Oh, we may stop now and then and talk about what was happening in that chapter when we had a tough time seeing one another...approaching one another. But that big thing...that deep thing...between us is gone.
I think it is a God-sized miracle. Just huge. I wouldn't predict to understand it. Like the leper who is healed in the 17th chapter of Luke, I just thank God for it.
This isn't the first time I've seen God pull off something like this. A friend in Mishawaka had a terrible relationship with his adult son. There had been no relationship to speak of for years. And then, oneday, the adult son called up and said, "Hi, Dad." The distance between them shrank to nothing over a period of days.
My old preaching professor, Will Willimon, has said that one of the most extraordinary things about Jesus is his call to change. Because his very call to change assumes that the things we think can never change -aren't so immovable.
You live through a moment when immovable things move, when the unchangable changes, and you don't smile with doubt when you read in the Bible about people walking through the sea or water coming out of a rock.
That's true in our personal lives and relationships. I'm the oldest of seven children. Five of us have survived. Sometimes it seems like life has frozen us into a particular posture or position. Nothing seems to change.
One of my siblings and I have spent years sort of half seeing one another. There has been this thing -sadness, fear, resentment, a hope for change you dare not recognize because things seem stuck- between us. We'd smile at one another. We'd talk with one another. We'd offer a hug to one another when we would visit and when we would leave. But there was this thing between... Several times I would gulp, take a deep breath, and say something. Several times I would say, "Is there something we should talk about...because things don't seem right?" We never did...we never could.
Then, a week ago in Chicago, the two of us sat down in a restaurant. Just the two of us. We sat, we talked, we ate...for a couple of hours.
Do you know what? The thing between us is gone. It melted. Oh, we may stop now and then and talk about what was happening in that chapter when we had a tough time seeing one another...approaching one another. But that big thing...that deep thing...between us is gone.
I think it is a God-sized miracle. Just huge. I wouldn't predict to understand it. Like the leper who is healed in the 17th chapter of Luke, I just thank God for it.
This isn't the first time I've seen God pull off something like this. A friend in Mishawaka had a terrible relationship with his adult son. There had been no relationship to speak of for years. And then, oneday, the adult son called up and said, "Hi, Dad." The distance between them shrank to nothing over a period of days.
My old preaching professor, Will Willimon, has said that one of the most extraordinary things about Jesus is his call to change. Because his very call to change assumes that the things we think can never change -aren't so immovable.
You live through a moment when immovable things move, when the unchangable changes, and you don't smile with doubt when you read in the Bible about people walking through the sea or water coming out of a rock.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)