About every three months John and I spend time looking for opportunities to serve as a missionary family. We inquire, we look, and we wait for God to whisper into our hearts, “Alright, go ahead.” Because we have strong calls to and visions of mission work, I truly believe someday something will fall into our laps, something will work out ‘just right,’ and we will know we are supposed to go.
In addition to all the logistical concerns I think about if this were to ever happen, I have also been contemplating my emotional ability to witness first hand people living in impoverished conditions. I have wondered; will my heart be able to carry the weight of a people left behind, unseen by the rest of the world? Or would I be crushed and ineffective?
I am standing in the church library finishing my lunch, looking out the window. In the parking lot a woman sets up a stroller and pulls her three year old daughter out of the car. I watch as the mother pushes her stroller toward the church. They come into the church office. A voice with traces of exhaustion and concern asks: “Does the church have any financial assistance they can provide?” The Office Manager, very kindly, says “No, we do not offer any type of assistance but there is a food bank at a nearby church on Fridays.” Overhearing this exchange, I walk into the office. I take one look at the little girl’s big brown eyes, her innocent smile, and my heart absolutely broke.
When they left empty handed I felt a huge surge of embarrassment, shame, and helplessness. I later discovered that the church used to give out $5 grocery cards and then it was decided that the program was too expensive so they ended it.
I never feel fear of God but I certainly feel when I screw up (some people call that sin). It takes a lot for me to want to hide from the face of Jesus. But yesterday I knew that in that moment, in our church office, God walked out with that mother and her baby.
I thought about it all afternoon, all night. The words echoed in my mind, "not enough money" and I started to feel frustrated. And then the thought entered my mind, “I think witnessing people in need not being taken care of when there is so much around to give is much more difficult than witnessing people working together to make something out of nothing.” It was about five seconds after the thought crossed my mind that another, more familiar thought occurred. You might know it, it is the “oh crap” moment when you realize OH, This is what you’re doing, God! And then immediately go “oh crap” because it is definitely a twisted version of what you had envisioned. And perhaps a much more challenging version of the way you had hoped to help.
It might sound weird but out of everything that happened yesterday what I have seen is that God has been telling me, “Oh, Stephanie, you are already on the mission field and it is because it weighs heavy on you emotionally that I need you here.” The thing that makes me disappointed with myself is that this wasn’t the first time, but the THIRD time someone has asked if our church could help them and I am just now getting it. It was like God said, “Alright child, I guess I will keep sending people until you get it.” And I got it, but only when it was a mother, like me, and a child, like Fiona, were turned away that I was able to feel God’s call upon my heart and know my mission in this place...
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Patchwork
So, all week I have been playing this game called, "I feel most myself when..." It's a sort of exercise I made up in response to feeling an uncomfortable disconnect between the person I feel like I must be to be a respected and loved mother, wife, and pastor and the person I am or ultimately wish I was. Complicate, I know. But, in short I have kept asking myself the question because the more I answer the question, the more I feel drawn to do those things, and act in those ways, which reflect the inner core of who I am. They might be silly things like...
I love wearing pajamas. And UGGs. UGGS or barefeet. I wish I could live in a place where I could wear a swimsuit in the day and pajamas at night. Basically, I guess that means I hate being dressed. I also hate cooking. I get irritated when John buys the Mac-n-Cheese with shaped noodles because they take too long to cook. I also refuse to microwave any pre-made meal with more than one step. I throw all my clothes on the floor in my room but I hate messiness. Still, I am an undeniably messy person.
...Nevertheless these little notes of personality and preferences serve as little compasses in reminding me of the person I am and the person I more fully hope to be: Me, just me, in spite of all the expectations and assumptions about who I should be or who I am both put on me from others and most importantly from myself. It is this awareness and acceptance of all the little things that make up the person I am that serve as anchors as I enter a new space of intense pressure that tempts me to be everything I am not.
I want to be a laid back hippie chick...which makes it a little difficult to embrace the incredibly intense and passionate perfectionist that I am. I wish I had a little less responsibility and a lot less pressure. I want to find some sort of balance in all the plethora of roles and responsibilities I find myself juggling on a daily basis, as opposed to this new normal of anxiously awaiting the moment when all the balls come crashing down on my head...or maybe just this realization that I have no idea how to juggle nor do I ever care to learn and I would just like to stop chasing all the balls around and sit with open hands receiving and giving the grace and love which has so freely been given to me.
I must sound very twenty-nine to you right now. But I would propose that no matter how old you are or how settled you feel it would be an adventure to play this game. So often we forget who we are in the pressure to be who we aren’t that it might just take putting together all the little things that make us who we are to build us back up to that person we are dreaming of being.
I love wearing pajamas. And UGGs. UGGS or barefeet. I wish I could live in a place where I could wear a swimsuit in the day and pajamas at night. Basically, I guess that means I hate being dressed. I also hate cooking. I get irritated when John buys the Mac-n-Cheese with shaped noodles because they take too long to cook. I also refuse to microwave any pre-made meal with more than one step. I throw all my clothes on the floor in my room but I hate messiness. Still, I am an undeniably messy person.
...Nevertheless these little notes of personality and preferences serve as little compasses in reminding me of the person I am and the person I more fully hope to be: Me, just me, in spite of all the expectations and assumptions about who I should be or who I am both put on me from others and most importantly from myself. It is this awareness and acceptance of all the little things that make up the person I am that serve as anchors as I enter a new space of intense pressure that tempts me to be everything I am not.
I want to be a laid back hippie chick...which makes it a little difficult to embrace the incredibly intense and passionate perfectionist that I am. I wish I had a little less responsibility and a lot less pressure. I want to find some sort of balance in all the plethora of roles and responsibilities I find myself juggling on a daily basis, as opposed to this new normal of anxiously awaiting the moment when all the balls come crashing down on my head...or maybe just this realization that I have no idea how to juggle nor do I ever care to learn and I would just like to stop chasing all the balls around and sit with open hands receiving and giving the grace and love which has so freely been given to me.
I must sound very twenty-nine to you right now. But I would propose that no matter how old you are or how settled you feel it would be an adventure to play this game. So often we forget who we are in the pressure to be who we aren’t that it might just take putting together all the little things that make us who we are to build us back up to that person we are dreaming of being.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Out to Work
I hate being in my office.
This profound thought hit me today as my mind began bouncing pointlessly from wall to wall that I am the most unproductive when I am surrounding by four walls; I get bored, distracted, restless. I wait for the phone to ring or someone, anyone, to come wander into my basement office. I make coffee and let it get cold and then wander upstairs to reheat it. Sometimes I can reheat the same cup of coffee four or five times before ever taking a sip. By the time I get to hour five of office time I am ready to make a window through the concrete walls with my head.
As a new-bee in ministry I have been repeatedly shocked at both how much time congregations expect a minister to be in their office and likewise how guilty I feel if I don't perceive myself to be meeting those undefined expectations. With such a widespread emphasis on the pastor's presence in the office you would think office hours were a direct correlation to pastoral effectiveness. But they are definitely not. The more I read about patterns of effective pastors (measured I supposed as those pastors who grow churches) the more I hear that the opposite is true: the less time a pastor spends in their office and the more time they spend making intentional connections in the community, the more effective a pastor is.
Seeing a correlation between intentional outreach and effective pastoring makes me feel much better about my current attitude toward my office; "I can tolerate you for a while, yellow room, but after five hours you start to get on my nerves and I want to take a sledgehammer to you." Don't get me wrong, it isn't so much that I never want to be there as much as I don't always want to be there. Or even more, I don't want other people to perceive me as not working when I am out of the office when if I am in my office I feel as though I am procrastinating working. For example, when I am in my office I often feel comfortable that I am putting in my hours but all I can think is, "I have so much work I need to be doing!" Suddenly my office has become a holding cell for ministry and I have allowed myself to enter a situation in which I never feel like I am really working.
This friction between being in the office and fulfilling a Call to service might also be a sign of changes times and increased technology. An opportunity to change the way face time is defined. While being in the office used to be required to know what was happening in the office, I can be plugged in wherever I am. I can reply to an email, check Facebook, make a call or send a text message from anywhere. It's a workaholics worst nightmare but with appropriate boundaries it can be a great way to be connected to both the church building and Jesus' call to Discipleship.
But where I am really stuck is not so much with how to make peace with these four walls closing in on me as much as how to encourage my congregation and my denomination to support my intentional outreach to the community. To see it as Work, as "office hours." To have someone come into the office and instead of asking where everyone is with frustration to be frustrated if everyone was just sitting in their offices; "we're not paying you to just sit in the building!"
I am just waiting for the day when Jesus walks into my office and yells "What are you doing in here?!"...shaking his head at my soft feet and prettily painted toes, perhaps tipping my desk over in typical Jesus style. "Those aren't the feet of a Disciple!" He would say. And I would go, "No but they are the feet of an employed Associate Pastor in the United Methodist Church, Jesus." -I really hope there are other people who have a running commentary with Jesus or you are really going to think this office has driven me nuts.-
I don't have the answers or even a nice tidy ending to this blog post. Being honest, even if my congregation were outreach focused I would be behind the learning curve in where to start. Where would I go? Who needs a pastor without an office? Without a congregation? Inspite of my total and complete ignorance about how to be a pastor and serve the community as Jesus calls us all to, I'm not afraid to admit I think that the health of our ministry can be measured not in the numbers that make up our churches but more truly in how closely the call of Jesus to be Disciples and the congregation's expectations of their pastors align. It doesn't seem right that as persons ordained to serve, that serving Jesus would be something we were only allowed to do on our free time. Perhaps the fact that the walls of my office have become the symbolic antithesis to my call to ministry defines my calling as a mainline pastor to throw out the bathroom passes, hang up my "Out to Work" sign on my closed office door and begin creating a congregation that is outwardly focused. And Jesus said, "You go girl!"
This profound thought hit me today as my mind began bouncing pointlessly from wall to wall that I am the most unproductive when I am surrounding by four walls; I get bored, distracted, restless. I wait for the phone to ring or someone, anyone, to come wander into my basement office. I make coffee and let it get cold and then wander upstairs to reheat it. Sometimes I can reheat the same cup of coffee four or five times before ever taking a sip. By the time I get to hour five of office time I am ready to make a window through the concrete walls with my head.
As a new-bee in ministry I have been repeatedly shocked at both how much time congregations expect a minister to be in their office and likewise how guilty I feel if I don't perceive myself to be meeting those undefined expectations. With such a widespread emphasis on the pastor's presence in the office you would think office hours were a direct correlation to pastoral effectiveness. But they are definitely not. The more I read about patterns of effective pastors (measured I supposed as those pastors who grow churches) the more I hear that the opposite is true: the less time a pastor spends in their office and the more time they spend making intentional connections in the community, the more effective a pastor is.
Seeing a correlation between intentional outreach and effective pastoring makes me feel much better about my current attitude toward my office; "I can tolerate you for a while, yellow room, but after five hours you start to get on my nerves and I want to take a sledgehammer to you." Don't get me wrong, it isn't so much that I never want to be there as much as I don't always want to be there. Or even more, I don't want other people to perceive me as not working when I am out of the office when if I am in my office I feel as though I am procrastinating working. For example, when I am in my office I often feel comfortable that I am putting in my hours but all I can think is, "I have so much work I need to be doing!" Suddenly my office has become a holding cell for ministry and I have allowed myself to enter a situation in which I never feel like I am really working.
This friction between being in the office and fulfilling a Call to service might also be a sign of changes times and increased technology. An opportunity to change the way face time is defined. While being in the office used to be required to know what was happening in the office, I can be plugged in wherever I am. I can reply to an email, check Facebook, make a call or send a text message from anywhere. It's a workaholics worst nightmare but with appropriate boundaries it can be a great way to be connected to both the church building and Jesus' call to Discipleship.
But where I am really stuck is not so much with how to make peace with these four walls closing in on me as much as how to encourage my congregation and my denomination to support my intentional outreach to the community. To see it as Work, as "office hours." To have someone come into the office and instead of asking where everyone is with frustration to be frustrated if everyone was just sitting in their offices; "we're not paying you to just sit in the building!"
I am just waiting for the day when Jesus walks into my office and yells "What are you doing in here?!"...shaking his head at my soft feet and prettily painted toes, perhaps tipping my desk over in typical Jesus style. "Those aren't the feet of a Disciple!" He would say. And I would go, "No but they are the feet of an employed Associate Pastor in the United Methodist Church, Jesus." -I really hope there are other people who have a running commentary with Jesus or you are really going to think this office has driven me nuts.-
I don't have the answers or even a nice tidy ending to this blog post. Being honest, even if my congregation were outreach focused I would be behind the learning curve in where to start. Where would I go? Who needs a pastor without an office? Without a congregation? Inspite of my total and complete ignorance about how to be a pastor and serve the community as Jesus calls us all to, I'm not afraid to admit I think that the health of our ministry can be measured not in the numbers that make up our churches but more truly in how closely the call of Jesus to be Disciples and the congregation's expectations of their pastors align. It doesn't seem right that as persons ordained to serve, that serving Jesus would be something we were only allowed to do on our free time. Perhaps the fact that the walls of my office have become the symbolic antithesis to my call to ministry defines my calling as a mainline pastor to throw out the bathroom passes, hang up my "Out to Work" sign on my closed office door and begin creating a congregation that is outwardly focused. And Jesus said, "You go girl!"
Thursday, August 12, 2010
The Sell Outs
Last night in a small meeting in a back room, a committee spent a few moments reviewing the goals and visions of the church. It caught my attention that the first paragraph in the three page document said "Growth is not the primary objective of our church" and then continued to explain that growth could be achieved "inappropriately" by making church entertaining, promising wealth through faith, or emphasizing only good news of the Gospel while omitting the challenging requirements of Christian faith. Basically, it said, "we want to grow but we don't want to sell out."
It seems like in most mainline denominations growing without feeling like we are 'selling out' is a challenge. We will talk all day about how we want to grow, no doubt. But we rarely talk about why we want to grow. If you listen in on any of the meetings in most mainline congregations and heard how much we talk about money it might seem that we want to grow simply because we need to sustain our own services...and that might very well be the driving force of most of our desires to grow. That we need to grow because we want the institution to survive, the traditions to continue, our building to continue to hold Sunday morning services.
It's tricky business, trying to grow in this context, where really the ultimate reason for growth is to maintain a system that was perhaps life changing and meaningful to people once upon a time and to a small minority of people who grew up in that system of experiencing God, but has become irrevelant and alienating to most people in America.
Okay, so confessions from a minister: Outside of when I preach and feel the presence of the Holy Spirit with me, I rarely experience God on Sunday mornings. For me, God is so much more 'real' to me during the week; in my real life. I am not sure if it has always been this way but for me there is a huge disconnect between Sunday morning and Monday through Saturday. This might sound weird but sitting in church I often feel like all that is Church consumes all the space for God.
The tricky part for trying to remain true to the church and growing for most mainline denominations is this: We have to KNOW what it is we believe in and why it is valuable to others. To me, it seems we may have lost the foundation upon which we stand because all of the details, traditions, and formalities have become so time consuming that we don't have time to reflect on the meaning and relevancy of our faith in these times and then translate that into an experience through which all persons (churchy or unchurchy) can feel the presence and love of God. Instead we focus on how we should dress a certain way to come into church, or say this prayer at this time, or sing this hymn because we are pretty sure Jesus sang it and if he didn't, well, he should've. And since for most of us it is difficult to define what it is at the heart of the Message that would keep us from selling out, it really seems as though we sold out a long time ago and are just trying to keep from selling a distorted Message in a new way.
I want to believe that if we really knew why we were doing this church-thing, all of the details, the way in which we worship, would have much more flexibility. The measure of success would not be how similar it has remained over the Sunday's but how many people felt God touch their hearts in a new and significant way; the way it inspired them to live their lives in more grace-giving, justice-seeking ways.
The image of Jesus walking into the temple and overturning the money tables has been making me wish Jesus would walk into many of our churches with a Venti Raspberry Chocolate Latte and dump it all over the front of the sanctuary. That way when we begin to worry about the little things, like children's crayons or donuts or dirty shoes coming into OUR worship space we could all turn to each other and shrug our shoulders when the chair of the Worship Committee said, "Well, I guess it doesn't matter. Jesus already came in and dumped coffee all over the sanctuary."
I see the value of faith in my life. In my real life. For me faith is that which keeps me putting one foot in front of the other when the stairs of time seem to be shifting chaotically all around me. And my hope would be that somehow that value would be allowed to leak into the fabric of what has become an institutionalized experience with no room for the Holy Spirit to open our hearts and minds to remind us that it isn't the fear of selling out that we should fear but the fear that we would have gotten so far off track that we have nothing to sell.
It seems like in most mainline denominations growing without feeling like we are 'selling out' is a challenge. We will talk all day about how we want to grow, no doubt. But we rarely talk about why we want to grow. If you listen in on any of the meetings in most mainline congregations and heard how much we talk about money it might seem that we want to grow simply because we need to sustain our own services...and that might very well be the driving force of most of our desires to grow. That we need to grow because we want the institution to survive, the traditions to continue, our building to continue to hold Sunday morning services.
It's tricky business, trying to grow in this context, where really the ultimate reason for growth is to maintain a system that was perhaps life changing and meaningful to people once upon a time and to a small minority of people who grew up in that system of experiencing God, but has become irrevelant and alienating to most people in America.
Okay, so confessions from a minister: Outside of when I preach and feel the presence of the Holy Spirit with me, I rarely experience God on Sunday mornings. For me, God is so much more 'real' to me during the week; in my real life. I am not sure if it has always been this way but for me there is a huge disconnect between Sunday morning and Monday through Saturday. This might sound weird but sitting in church I often feel like all that is Church consumes all the space for God.
The tricky part for trying to remain true to the church and growing for most mainline denominations is this: We have to KNOW what it is we believe in and why it is valuable to others. To me, it seems we may have lost the foundation upon which we stand because all of the details, traditions, and formalities have become so time consuming that we don't have time to reflect on the meaning and relevancy of our faith in these times and then translate that into an experience through which all persons (churchy or unchurchy) can feel the presence and love of God. Instead we focus on how we should dress a certain way to come into church, or say this prayer at this time, or sing this hymn because we are pretty sure Jesus sang it and if he didn't, well, he should've. And since for most of us it is difficult to define what it is at the heart of the Message that would keep us from selling out, it really seems as though we sold out a long time ago and are just trying to keep from selling a distorted Message in a new way.
I want to believe that if we really knew why we were doing this church-thing, all of the details, the way in which we worship, would have much more flexibility. The measure of success would not be how similar it has remained over the Sunday's but how many people felt God touch their hearts in a new and significant way; the way it inspired them to live their lives in more grace-giving, justice-seeking ways.
The image of Jesus walking into the temple and overturning the money tables has been making me wish Jesus would walk into many of our churches with a Venti Raspberry Chocolate Latte and dump it all over the front of the sanctuary. That way when we begin to worry about the little things, like children's crayons or donuts or dirty shoes coming into OUR worship space we could all turn to each other and shrug our shoulders when the chair of the Worship Committee said, "Well, I guess it doesn't matter. Jesus already came in and dumped coffee all over the sanctuary."
I see the value of faith in my life. In my real life. For me faith is that which keeps me putting one foot in front of the other when the stairs of time seem to be shifting chaotically all around me. And my hope would be that somehow that value would be allowed to leak into the fabric of what has become an institutionalized experience with no room for the Holy Spirit to open our hearts and minds to remind us that it isn't the fear of selling out that we should fear but the fear that we would have gotten so far off track that we have nothing to sell.
Friday, August 6, 2010
At Evergreen...
I have a problem. I can't stop talking about Evergreen; what it was like, how they did things, ect. Every time we sit in a meeting at Hope or I have a conversation with a person I will inevitably bring up something about Evergreen. I am annoying myself so I can only imagine how the people around me feel. Maybe something like, "If you say 'At Evergreen' on more time we are going to put duct tape on your mouth and lock you in your basement office." That is a clue in case I suddenly go missing.
It was a big joke around the office before I left that after I was gone they would blame everything that was wrong on me by saying, "Oh, that was when Stephanie was here..." They even made T-Shirts. They made mine with a gemstone crown on it which might be a heads up for the people of Hope. With all the focus on the talk about Evergreen without me I never really thought about me without Evergreen. And I definitely didn't imagine that I would now be contemplating starting a coin jar or wearing a reminder bracelet that I am at Hope now and that I need to stop talking about Evergreen.
I knew I would miss Evergreen-what a great church, what a great community! It is hard to leave after you have been so connected but even more than dealing with the basic issues of separation, I am now realizing how formative my experience at Evergreen has been in my own style of ministry. In many ways it was my first appointment. A place I made a lot of mistakes and learned a lot of lessons. The community that first accepted me for just who I was and has now given me the confidence that I can be who I am now in a new context. The congregants who believed in me and the amazing things that God can do through me. At Evergreen...
I read an article by a long time United Methodist clergy who spoke about how the itinerancy system fails to take into account the grieving that takes place on both ends when a person is reappointed. They commented that there is never any scheduled time for people to grieve before they are expected to jump on the horse and begin a new journey. I think he was referring to the space in between, where we lay to rest what has been and prepare for what is to be. Maybe the best way to deal with transition is to dive right in... Or maybe this clergy person is right when he says we all need a few weeks away to grieve the loss of a community before we are ready to embrace the new.
I don't know what the perfect way to transition would be but I kept wondering why I felt so tired when I just started this new thing; shouldn't the adrenaline and excitement of new possibilities carry me through for at least a month!? But his article made me reflect on the fact that letting go is an emotional process and that saying goodbye doesn't end with a moving truck but with the passing of time and the slow return of that feeling of home. People of Evergreen, I miss you everyday.
People of Hope, contrary to how many ever times you hear "At Evergreen..." come out of my big mouth, I know and embrace that my future is in Hope. I see you as a determined and powerful people and while there may be some bumps in our road, together I believe we will do amazing things. The hardest thing for me to sort through has been to come to terms with the reality that I both miss Evergreen and am excited about being at Hope. It has meant sitting with the truth that missing Evergreen doesn't mean I don't want to be at Hope and that being excited about being at Hope doesn't mean I don't miss Evergreen. But in many ways it is exhausting, to grieve a loss and embrace a new beginning. And perhaps, in a situation such as this, the best thing I can do is to wade in the middle of the messiness of my emotions and let God's hand guide me through the fog towards the time when this too will feel like Home.
It was a big joke around the office before I left that after I was gone they would blame everything that was wrong on me by saying, "Oh, that was when Stephanie was here..." They even made T-Shirts. They made mine with a gemstone crown on it which might be a heads up for the people of Hope. With all the focus on the talk about Evergreen without me I never really thought about me without Evergreen. And I definitely didn't imagine that I would now be contemplating starting a coin jar or wearing a reminder bracelet that I am at Hope now and that I need to stop talking about Evergreen.
I knew I would miss Evergreen-what a great church, what a great community! It is hard to leave after you have been so connected but even more than dealing with the basic issues of separation, I am now realizing how formative my experience at Evergreen has been in my own style of ministry. In many ways it was my first appointment. A place I made a lot of mistakes and learned a lot of lessons. The community that first accepted me for just who I was and has now given me the confidence that I can be who I am now in a new context. The congregants who believed in me and the amazing things that God can do through me. At Evergreen...
I read an article by a long time United Methodist clergy who spoke about how the itinerancy system fails to take into account the grieving that takes place on both ends when a person is reappointed. They commented that there is never any scheduled time for people to grieve before they are expected to jump on the horse and begin a new journey. I think he was referring to the space in between, where we lay to rest what has been and prepare for what is to be. Maybe the best way to deal with transition is to dive right in... Or maybe this clergy person is right when he says we all need a few weeks away to grieve the loss of a community before we are ready to embrace the new.
I don't know what the perfect way to transition would be but I kept wondering why I felt so tired when I just started this new thing; shouldn't the adrenaline and excitement of new possibilities carry me through for at least a month!? But his article made me reflect on the fact that letting go is an emotional process and that saying goodbye doesn't end with a moving truck but with the passing of time and the slow return of that feeling of home. People of Evergreen, I miss you everyday.
People of Hope, contrary to how many ever times you hear "At Evergreen..." come out of my big mouth, I know and embrace that my future is in Hope. I see you as a determined and powerful people and while there may be some bumps in our road, together I believe we will do amazing things. The hardest thing for me to sort through has been to come to terms with the reality that I both miss Evergreen and am excited about being at Hope. It has meant sitting with the truth that missing Evergreen doesn't mean I don't want to be at Hope and that being excited about being at Hope doesn't mean I don't miss Evergreen. But in many ways it is exhausting, to grieve a loss and embrace a new beginning. And perhaps, in a situation such as this, the best thing I can do is to wade in the middle of the messiness of my emotions and let God's hand guide me through the fog towards the time when this too will feel like Home.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Beat that Dead Horse!
It really hit me today that there is a lot of time in mainline churches devoted to complaining about how the membership is dwindling and how the programs are barely keeping our heads above water. I hear a lot of talk about 'this' (my) generation and how frustrating it is that they they don't support the agenda of the mainliners. Usually I am the one leading the conversation, venting to friends or family, but today I just listened, with compassion, to the frustration of a person who cares deeply about their congregation and who feels alienated in this journey of communal preservation. It was touching, really, to witness the honest frustration of a person who is passionate about their ministry-I heard myself in their confessions.
As a passionate believer in the United Methodist's "Open Door" slogan, it's daunting to think that if the rate of membership keeps dropping in our churches we will be permanently closing most doors by the time I turn fifty. And it is tempting to keep pointing the finger at my friends, my generational colleagues, for choosing entertainment over theological depth, sports games over worship services, individual 'sprituality' over organized religion. There are many reasons my presence on Sunday morning lowers the demographic of the entire worship service by about twenty years but in the end I think the finger is pointed at me. At us. For trying to keep alive things that are important to us but are meaningless and irrelevant to a world which is so much in need of something to believe in. We hold so tight to ideas of membership and traditional worship that we forget that we are called to make Disciples of Christ.
Our mission statement isn't; "let's all focus our energy on complaining about those selfish young people who don't want what we have." It isn't "let's sit around and try to do the same thing that hasn't worked for twelve years one more time." It isn't even to make members of the Methodist church. But if we are going to take seriously this whole making Disciples commission that Jesus has given us we are going to have to let go of the church and hold on to the message. We have something valuable to offer but it isn't dependent on the organ, the hymns, or even committee meetings. It is dependent on our passion to serve Jesus Christ, our willingness to be open to the movement of the Spirit in the community and our commitment to our call to introduce others to a God who claims they are loved for exactly who they are at that moment. This God we have heard invites us to wrestle in the desert, to rest in the valley, and to wander in the wilderness.
A member of Hope asked recently, "What is your job?" "Well, what have you been told?" I asked. He explained that his understanding is that I am here to attract young people, to bring in those 20s to 40s that are missing from our congregation but not from our wider community. I thought for a moment and said "I am here to grow your church." Maybe I said it because I thought that was what he wanted to hear. To be assured that there was still the possibility to preserve something that has brought so much meaning to his life, that someone else cared like he did about his church. I understand because I have chosen to pursue a career in ministry because I believe Christianity and the church have something to offer a world that has always been broken, even before my generation came along. For me, it's as much about opening the door so that people can have a supportive church family as it is opening the door to get members out so they can experience the challenges and rewards of living a life of Discipleship.
It is my hope that while I am serving at Hope United Methodist Church the participation level will increase and in many ways I do believe that is why I am here. But that will all be dependent on the churches collective ability to make this call to be and create Disciples of Christ the priority over the details of 'church' and for the leadership to reinforce that mission. What if we just committed to live passionate lives of Discipleship? To try new things? To let go of some old traditions? To care for one another and love one another as if we were a family? Whether you are 2 years old or 99, that is something we all need, to be uncomfortable in a comfortable place. To grow deeper in faith while being supported by the community who loves and understands the journey you are on because we are all sojourners in our faith.
I do believe there is limitless, unpredictable possibility in those communities who feel the Spirit on fire in their hearts and are passionate about doing whatever they can to share that love and grace they feel poured out over them with the world. Whatever the results are, this is the congregation I want to lead.
As a passionate believer in the United Methodist's "Open Door" slogan, it's daunting to think that if the rate of membership keeps dropping in our churches we will be permanently closing most doors by the time I turn fifty. And it is tempting to keep pointing the finger at my friends, my generational colleagues, for choosing entertainment over theological depth, sports games over worship services, individual 'sprituality' over organized religion. There are many reasons my presence on Sunday morning lowers the demographic of the entire worship service by about twenty years but in the end I think the finger is pointed at me. At us. For trying to keep alive things that are important to us but are meaningless and irrelevant to a world which is so much in need of something to believe in. We hold so tight to ideas of membership and traditional worship that we forget that we are called to make Disciples of Christ.
Our mission statement isn't; "let's all focus our energy on complaining about those selfish young people who don't want what we have." It isn't "let's sit around and try to do the same thing that hasn't worked for twelve years one more time." It isn't even to make members of the Methodist church. But if we are going to take seriously this whole making Disciples commission that Jesus has given us we are going to have to let go of the church and hold on to the message. We have something valuable to offer but it isn't dependent on the organ, the hymns, or even committee meetings. It is dependent on our passion to serve Jesus Christ, our willingness to be open to the movement of the Spirit in the community and our commitment to our call to introduce others to a God who claims they are loved for exactly who they are at that moment. This God we have heard invites us to wrestle in the desert, to rest in the valley, and to wander in the wilderness.
A member of Hope asked recently, "What is your job?" "Well, what have you been told?" I asked. He explained that his understanding is that I am here to attract young people, to bring in those 20s to 40s that are missing from our congregation but not from our wider community. I thought for a moment and said "I am here to grow your church." Maybe I said it because I thought that was what he wanted to hear. To be assured that there was still the possibility to preserve something that has brought so much meaning to his life, that someone else cared like he did about his church. I understand because I have chosen to pursue a career in ministry because I believe Christianity and the church have something to offer a world that has always been broken, even before my generation came along. For me, it's as much about opening the door so that people can have a supportive church family as it is opening the door to get members out so they can experience the challenges and rewards of living a life of Discipleship.
It is my hope that while I am serving at Hope United Methodist Church the participation level will increase and in many ways I do believe that is why I am here. But that will all be dependent on the churches collective ability to make this call to be and create Disciples of Christ the priority over the details of 'church' and for the leadership to reinforce that mission. What if we just committed to live passionate lives of Discipleship? To try new things? To let go of some old traditions? To care for one another and love one another as if we were a family? Whether you are 2 years old or 99, that is something we all need, to be uncomfortable in a comfortable place. To grow deeper in faith while being supported by the community who loves and understands the journey you are on because we are all sojourners in our faith.
I do believe there is limitless, unpredictable possibility in those communities who feel the Spirit on fire in their hearts and are passionate about doing whatever they can to share that love and grace they feel poured out over them with the world. Whatever the results are, this is the congregation I want to lead.
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