The Pastor's Pen

Fellowship and Hospitality…

2012-02-10T08:48:00.001-08:00

Here’s a ‘learning scenario’ I encountered in seminary.

Imagine you’re a pastor, visiting a new family to the church. Y’all shake hands at their front door. They introduce you to their dog. When escorted into the living room to sit down for a chat, on the table is a platter of fresh-made cookies. Ms. New Person says, “Please, pastor, have a cookie.” But you’ve a) just come from another engagement that included cookie eating, and b) made a New Year’s resolution to cut down on sweets. What, the teacher asked, do you do?!

I, of course, get to cheat on this test, since my honest answer is, “I’m sorry, I never eat sweets” (substitute buffalo wings, however, and I’m in trouble!). But you can imagine how unintentionally tricky that could be, right? After all, many Christians feel compelled to give and receive graciously. Hospitality, in fact, is so central to our ideals, our value system, that every week we replay a ritual of table fellowship. “All are welcome at Christ’s Table,” we say, claiming that as our reason for gathering.

And that’s right! We are people of the Table! Called to serve and be served, opening our lives to all. But in the real world of everyday worship, work and rest, unconditional and unlimited hospitality is tough. When someone wants to serve us, we may not like what they’ve prepared. When someone needs serving, we may not want to step in. A new person may seem to us strange or uninviting. Or maybe we’re simply feeling timid or insecure.

Nevertheless, we’re called to reach out constantly to others, to become, if you will, hospitality experts. And as anyone with expertise in anything will tell you, what separates pros from amateurs is how well one does under pressure. When the doing of something is tough, and yet you get it done, that’s when you know you’ve become good. For instance, I suspect many people given enough time and second chances could cook a wonderful meal for guests. The great dinner party hosts, however, do it every time, and with last second notice, if required. Sure, the work may be hard; s/he might be exhausted by evening’s end. Still, dinner would be amazing, and guests would leave satisfied.

That’s an easy, if incomplete, metaphor, I think, for what you and I are called to do as Christians. Every Sunday, someone new could walk into our building. And that Sunday, you or I may feel tired, annoyed or distance. We could, of course, just say, “Well, let someone else welcome them. It’s my turn to take today off.” But I suspect we feel some urge to suck it up and be nice. Similarly, we could be in the grocery store line, or at a local meeting, hoping to just be left alone, when something happens unexpected- a person nearby needs help or engages us in polite conversation. As Christians, people of the Table, do we ignore the opportunity or step up?

I won’t push this idea too far. I’m sure we could create many alternative scenarios to complicate the issue. All I’m hoping is that we take a moment, this week, to remember that hospitality- welcoming others into fellowship- is a fundamental call of being Christian. It’s a ministry that each of us (in our own way, sure) is asked to undertake. A consequence of baptism, or something.

One way we do that at our church, of course, is by supplying something simple to gnash on after worship each Sunday. FYI, there’s a new sign-up sheet available that has many empty slots, and I’m hoping that y’all will soon change that fact! If you have procedural questions, let me know. You needn’t do much work; Mike and Donna make the coffee. Just bring treats, or healthy snacks, or whatever you feel best says to guests, “Hey, I’m glad you’re here! We hope you feel welcome!”

But even beyond that, I invite you to ponder anew this week- In church, at home, in my everyday life, how am I reaching out to others, making neighbors feel welcome, offering the same hospitality our Lord’s already offered me?

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Religion bashing…

2012-02-02T12:45:00.000-08:00

Last week, one of y’all showed me a youtube video that’s been making noise recently. I’d seen it on many a facebook friends’ pages, but hadn’t yet watched the clip. Titled “Why I hate religion, but love Jesus,” if you have a few extra minutes, check it out.

Here, though, is a recap. It’s a four-minute monologue from a young adult believer, apparently well schooled in slam poetry and evangelical atonement theology. About the former, slam poetry is a spoken-word art form resembling hip-hop without music. The performer passionately and rhythmically performs an original work of poetry, mixing urban lingo and personal observation with linguistic dexterity and bravado. As modern art goes, I’m a big fan.

Regarding evangelical atonement theology, I’m not as sympathetic. In short, this belief system claims that Jesus’ blood sacrifice was the perfect way of satisfying God’s righteous wrath. And only by accepting this fact, then working to convince others, can people avoid the dark destiny of Hell. You probably know I’m none-too-keen on such assumptions; Jesus’ death speaks to me, rather, of the lengths God will go to show us how much God loves us. Thus, I assume God opens doors to grace through pathways outside Christian faith, though I find following Jesus most satisfying, personally.

Nevertheless, in the afore-mentioned video, the artist claims fervently his life’s been changed by Jesus. And given that I’ve witnessed that happen to many people- myself included- I say, despite our theological disagreements, “Right on, friend. Preach!” Another claim he makes is something I’ve also encountered before, namely that sometimes there’s a difference between ‘religion’ and ‘faith.’

Now, I wouldn’t take that opposition too far. Oftentimes, I find the distinction people make between the two rather forced. Most of ‘religious’ people I know are faithful, good, authentic believers, who participate in church because they want to, not from blind obligation or delusion. The ‘religion’ this guy eviscerates, rather, is way of “believing” that prizes ritual over passion, tradition before the Spirit, safe action over bold commitment, comfort instead of mission. And he’s right that some churches or Christians seem overly committed to a status quo that’s willing to forget the needs of the poor and marginalized so we can feel good while praying. If, indeed, that’s what it means to be ‘religious,’ I want no part of it. Jesus, after all, undertook great measures to proclaim God’s love for everybody. “Whatsoever you do unto these, my children- even the least…” and all that jazz.

So if the slam poet toned down his attacks on religious people, complicated the picture slightly, he and I would have a good conversation. I, too, pray Plymouth Creekers will make faith without works anathema to their self-identity. I, too, hope our worship services aren’t empty words and vapid murmurings, but earnest efforts to lay our entire, broken, beloved selves before the Lord of Lords, seeking desperately to be uplifted, empowered and sent forth. I, too, imagine gatherings of believers with the temerity, the inspiration to expect God will keep doing new things. In our lives, through our lives, because we’ve decided to be together; a community shining bright as a beacon of Christ’s table, open to all, serving all.

So the reason I avoiding condemning ‘religion’, per say, is because I believe we’re all in this for the long haul. History shows that “God’s Kingdom come on earth” isn’t something that will happen next week. It’s an ongoing dream manifesting itself in many ways, across many cultures, through the love of many families and faithful friends. Indeed, it’s so hard to accomplish we’ll never make it on our own. We need companions for the journey; we need each other! The wisdom of our forbearers, the energy and nerve of our youth. And without a church to harness that, receive it, direct it in mission together, our hopes for a better future will likely flicker and fade.

Therefore, may we be religious, not in the stale, but enduring sense: a gathering of disciples inspired and inspiring, by each other, to each other, for the sake of God’s amazing grace. That, my friends, would produce a message worth filming.

Grace and Peace,

Shane

A Prophet? Me?! Imagine That…

2012-02-01T06:00:00.000-08:00

I’ve whined before about society co-opting, then warping, ‘religious’ words. Like, any idea how ‘Jesus Christ’ became a swear word? Or ‘righteous’ a mid-90s surfer synonym for ‘good’? Me neither!

I’ve also noticed a similar phenomenon, though nearly the mirror-opposite- religious words receiving distorted meanings within religious communities. Consider, for example, ‘salvation.’ Contra commonly held belief, the Bible rarely, if ever, uses salvation to mean ‘granted admission to Heaven after death.’ Sure, I was taught that; maybe you were too. But throughout Hebrew Scripture and into the Christian Testament, salvation has a primarily this world focus. Israelites are “saved” from bondage in Egypt. Kind David prays for “salvation” from military enemies. In Philippians 3, Paul urges readers to “work out your salvation,” like it’s an ongoing, divinely directed, here-and-now process. For it is! God’s goal is abundant for all life, in this life! Or as Jesus put it, “God’s Kingdom come, God’s will be done on earth...” I do believe that God’s saving grace includes eternal life embraced by love. But eternal life- salvation- begins, well, now.

Another word(s) that’s also received oft-misleading meanings, I believe, is ‘prophet’ (and its relative ‘prophetic’). Many believe, of course, a prophet is someone who sees into and predicts the future. A fortune-teller, crystal ball expert, clairvoyant, mystical, eerie. To be fair, some Hebrew and Christian scriptures interpret prophetic texts much that way. But that, as they say, ain’t the whole truth.

You may already know- and if not, I’m going to tell you :)- that contemporary biblical scholarship uses “prophetic” differently. After reading closely the texts and stories of Israelite prophets (a substantial portion of Hebrew Scripture), these modern scholars note how little space the prophets devote to foretelling events. Sure, sometimes they wax melancholic about the coming “Day of the Lord.” They dream and scheme, wail and boom about impending doom or God’s deliverance. Even within these passages, however, a higher purpose emerges than simple prediction. The prophet’s main concern, in fact, is what’s at hand, the present.

After all, why predict God’s imminent wrath unless you’ve a strong case this wrath is warranted? And believe me (or read Jeremiah), prophets spent much energy on that task! Similarly, even those sections we recognize from Christmas pageants and Handel’s Messiah, about “Every valley shall be exalted” and “Unto us a child is born”, are examples, primarily, of imaginative social critique. The prophets, this theory goes, along with whatever else they were, were mostly poetically inclined observers and commentators. Bold, daring, creative souls who imagined something more holy than what they saw around them. And wouldn’t stay silent about it, sometimes enacting this new reality.

As such, we can celebrate ‘modern prophets’; bold, daring, creative souls like Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King Jr., Dorothy Day and Mohandas Gandhi. Notice, David Koresh and Harold Camping don’t make the list, because those disturbed men cared/care more about future-casting, “be damned!” (literally) with the present. And while authentic prophets may not always like what they see, they also love the world and God’s children with fervency and hope.

So what’s this to do with Plymouth Creek? Well, one effect of modern prophetic scholarship is renewed interest, among many Christians, for cultivating our own “prophetic imaginations.” “No way, Shane!” You might protest, “A prophet? Me?!” To which I’d respond, honestly, “It’s possible. Imagine that…” Indeed, I believe that’s an important skill for Christians to develop, with God’s guidance of course. An ability to look clearly upon the world that is, discern where it falls short of God’s justice, freedom and righteousness, and then prophetically imagine what it could be with God’s- and your- help.

And to that end, we’re directing worship this Lent. Every Sunday, we’ll explore one great story or text from the Hebrew prophetic tradition, all in preparation for the greatest prophetic act of all: The Resurrection of Jesus! The defeat of sin and death on Easter morn! Which he accomplished believing that you and I could follow his lead; help God’s Kingdom come on earth, God’s glory shine brighter. But it takes bold, daring, creative souls- prophets- to make that happen. Like you. Me?! Imagine that…

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Always with you…

2012-01-27T08:23:00.000-08:00

Much of what Jesus said are wonderful, heartwarming, powerful ideas and words. “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.” “Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you.” “I will be with you always, even to the end of the age.” Amen, Brother Jesus! Of course I’ll follow you!

But if you keep reading, less…comfortable notions emerge; concepts that paint a more complicated picture. “I didn’t come to bring peace, but a sword.” “Love your enemy, pray for those who persecute you.” “Those who want to preserve their lives, will lose them. But those who lose their lives for my sake, will keep them.” Seriously, Jesus?! Are you joking?!

Then there’s the following hard saying that’s received plenty of attention over the centuries. “The poor will always be among you, but you will not always have me.” Leave aside- for the time being- that the latter half of that sentence contradicts something we encountered in paragraph one (both of which occur in the Gospel of Matthew, by the way). At face value, the idea’s disturbing; obvious perhaps, but something you’d want Christ to admit only in whispers. After all, the image we likely hold of our Savior includes unrelenting compassion for the world’s poor. Some theologians even argue (correctly, I’d contend) that if Jesus were made to chose, he’d show a “preferential option for the poor.” Yet in that sentence, it’s almost like Christ says, “Whatever we do, poverty will endure. So don’t worry too much about it. Just believe in me.”

First, a little context, for those confused by this thought. At least in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus says it to his disciples in reaction to a strange event. They’re having dinner in Jerusalem, scant few days before his betrayal and execution, when an unnamed woman saunters in with an expensive jar of perfume. She breaks the seal, pours the contents over Jesus’ head. The disciples respond indignantly, “Why’d she do that?! We could’ve sold that for lots of money, and given it to the poor.” The Anointed One responds, “The poor will always…etc.” He then interprets her actions as loving preparation for his burial. Not the typical dinner party event, but surely quite memorable.

Nevertheless, we’re left with profound cognitive dissonance. “Didn’t this guy proclaim, ‘Blessed are the poor’?” Yes, in fact, he did. But the two thoughts aren’t mutually exclusive. What matters is how we respond to Jesus’ frank admission of poverty’s pervasiveness. Given that throughout his life, Jesus made understanding and alleviating poverty a top-three priority, I suspect we’re not to believe, “The poor will always be with us, so let’s not put in too much effort to help.” Instead, we’re always to keep their needs atop our moral priorities too.

The trouble is, for modern Christ followers living in American suburbs like ours, we’re often uninformed about the lives of the poor. Who are they? Where do they live? Can we meaningfully help? Lots of stereotypes about poor folk persist, of course, likely filling our minds with unpleasant images. But separating truth from myth, fear from courageous engagement, isn’t easy, especially with so much else vying for our attention.

To that end, I want to ask you to join me for an event next month. You’ve maybe heard me announce this in church already, but if not, please consider putting it on your calendar. On February 27, from 6:30-8:30 at IOCP, our church is co-sponsoring (with twelve local faith communities) a “Community Conversation about Local Poverty.” I’m helping plan (and emcee), and we’re crafting an evening I hope you’ll find meaningful. The goal is helping attendees discover who the poor are in our midst, the challenges they face, ways the broader community assists, and crucially, what we all need to do to help out. You know that stereotype about a homeless man in a cardboard box under the freeway? Doesn’t match the truth of suburban poverty, but what, you may ask, does?

Well, we’ll answer that February 27. So I hope you’ll attend, for Jesus claimed the poor will always be with us. But so will he, he said, inspiring us to live and reach out with compassion.

Grace and Peace,

Shane

P.S. - Space is limited, so you’ll need to register ahead of time. Either talk to me, or email Jill Kohler at IOCP to get on the list.

A tasty burger…

2012-01-20T05:24:00.001-08:00

This week, I’m driving north to spend time with my good buddy Mark. He’s the pastor of First Congregational UCC in Moorhead. We met while living in Kentucky, together cheered for the local basketball team. So after he moved to Minnesota, we’ve made a point of carving out regular time to hang out. Usually, he comes south to the Cities. But fair is fair, so it’s my turn to drive up.

And this time, Mark and I will have a mission: Evaluate the food and atmosphere of several burger joints in Fargo/Moorhead, and identify which merits the title of “Best in Town.” Not only will this accomplish a basic human function (eating), but also give us something to talk/argue about during our time together. Win-win, as they say. We’re also considering creating a tin-foil trophy, and after we’ve made our decision, return to the winning restaurant to ‘present’ the manger-on-duty with our prize. Maybe film the encounter; post it on Youtube. Surely we’d receive incredibly confused smiles, but perhaps they’d also deem it free marketing, so give us a 10% off coupon, or something. I’ll let you know.

You may think this a strange topic for a weekly pastoral letter, and you may be right. But I hope it spurs your own memories of times did something ridiculous with a friend just because. I have another buddy who looks exactly like a guy in a Vikings/beer ad I’ve seen around town recently. Knowing he’s decidedly not a Vikings fan (Patriots…grrr) I find that ironic and funny, and so email him a picture of this ad every time I see it. We live in different cities, rarely get together. But at least we can stay connected with goofy photos and emails.

Does that sound familiar? Are there simple, quirky, personal ways you connect with friends or loved ones? One of the great lessons of my life occurred a few nights after my brother-in-law died. I was eighteen then, he was twenty-three, as was my sister, his wife. Being a motorcycle accident, the situation was dreadfully tragic. So she and I, the following week, stayed up late many nights- talking, processing, bawling, praying- and one night, she said this: “Shane, know what’s funny? My clearest memory of that day is calling Jeff on his lunch break. It lasted five minutes; I did most of the talking, telling him how excited I was about this great deal I’d just found on kids shoes. He said he was happy too. I said, ‘I love you,’ and hung up. That was the last conversation I ever had with my husband.”

We remarked how unlike a Hollywood ending it was. No profound words about life’s meaning; no final revelations; just an overly exuberant chat about saving fifteen bucks on shoes. But what she said next made all the difference. “I’m glad that’s what we talked about, because I wouldn’t have that conversation with anyone but Jeff. I mean, who cares that much about finding a great coupon?! Well, I did! And sharing with him something that goofy and trivial, but personal and important is what made Jeff my husband.” My beliefs about what makes relationships meaningful have never been the same.

So I’m going to Moorhead this week to invest more meaning than is objectively important into the textures and tastes of burger joints in my friend Mark’s hometown. Why? Because I like burgers, of course! But mostly because I’ve come to believe that even the simplest things, the quirkiest things can provide our lives richness and grace. If we open our hearts to loving others, that is, to sharing what moves us, no matter how trifling. To be honest, I still struggle with that more often than not. But sometimes I do alright and will soon have the burger receipts to prove it!

And since this a pastoral letter, let me leave you with a question. If you think I’m right about this dynamic being valuable for our intimate relationships with friends or family, then tell me- What are the quirky, simple but profound experiences you share with God?

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Gifts Combining…

2012-01-13T07:08:00.001-08:00

Do you remember Genesis 1? God says, “Let there be light,” and so on and so forth. And in six “days” (or billions of years, if we believe the scientists) the entire cosmos were created. Then, near the chapter’s end, God creates humankind. “Male and female, God created them, in God’s own image.” Countless commentators have since tried understanding that elusive idea. Created in God’s image. What does that mean?!

I’d be open to several interpretations, but my favorite is one that sticks closely to the text. To put it different, we should ask, “What does the author of Genesis 1 mean by that claim?” And the answer, I believe, is simple: We are creators.

After all, what has God done in the Good Book up to this point? Very little! Except, you know, create. Therefore, the image of God that we can reasonably infer in Genesis 1 is that of a Creator, a Masterful Improv Jazz Musician, a Cosmic Artist, if you prefer. It’s a very little step, then, from that to claiming the title of creators ourselves; we being created in God’s Image and all.

But hold up! Wait a minute! We’re going off the rails, right?!?! I mean, I don’t know about you, but I can’t create, you know, a world! Obviously, that’s not what the Genesis writer intends. The creative capacities of God and ours are of different magnitudes of order. Remember, we’re created in God’s image, not created as gods! But once you get past that hang-up, the idea of ‘creator’ is a wonderful self-image to adopt. Or to put it in the language of my seminary professors, we are co-creators with God. More so than any other species on our planet, we’re tasked with continuing Creation, adding beauty and wonder to the world around us, protecting the lush richness and careful balance that evolved during the eons of God’s Creation.

What that means, of course, are so many things I can’t count! How careful are you to recycle? Do your eating habits hurt Creation? How much of your income helps create meaningful living for the most vulnerable people or plants in our midst? Relevant as those questions are, however, there’s one we Plymouth Creekers are about to encounter soon. In our worship and work as a faith community, are we seeking to create more and greater beauty?

The answer is, and has been I think, a resounding Yes! I like to believe that our church enjoys exploring new music and art, fresh ways of thinking, when it comes to worshipping God and working to make God’s Kingdom come on earth. Nevertheless, we were blessed this year with a talented and dynamic intern- Lynda- whose myriad of past church experiences include worship and music leadership. Or, to put it differently, Lynda is a beloved child of God who loves- LOVES- to create, through art, through music, through many more media besides. So to help her meet her learning goals in the internship, we’ve asked her to share her creative gifts, and in doing so, help us each more joyfully express our identity of co-creators with God.

What that means, practically speaking, is that during Sunday services, throughout the up-coming month-long Cinema Sermon Series, we’ll also be learning new music, which Lynda will introduce, teach and lead. She’s quite the piano player, as you may’ve already learned. And along with our very-creative-in-her-own-right Music Minister, Jeremae, she’s been helping prepare the choir to learn these new songs. Of course, all this new stuff will mean that our worship will feel less ‘normal.’ Songs will be less familiar. Worship elements will be jumbled around. I’ll preach still, of course, and we’ll blessedly take communion. Otherwise, the month could feel like a grand experiment.

And my prayer is that will be a great and wonderful thing! One of church’s highest priorities, after all, is sharing and receiving the innumerable gifts God’s showered upon God’s co-creators. By singing and worshipping with Lynda, then, we’ll not only fulfill that mission. We may even be inspired to create beautiful outpourings of goodness and hope in our own lives as well!

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Football and faith…

2012-01-05T15:22:00.000-08:00

Anyone who’s read these letters semi-frequently knows of my deep, deep love for the Denver Broncos. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of the family gathered around our TV, cheering wildly as John Elway quarterbacked one of his patented come-from-behind victories. Alas, my Mile High Heroes haven’t been great in recent years, culminating in an awful 2010-11 campaign. And this year began badly too. We lost four of our first five games, our quarterback got benched, the collective emotional state of Broncos Nation plummeted to irrational levels of despair.

Until a miracle happened- a new quarterback named Tim Tebow took over, and suddenly we’re winning again. A lot. Like, seven of the next eight, often in dramatic fashion. It was euphoric. I might even say, heavenly. The only problem being that Tebow’s play was erratic. Indeed, for most of these victories, he played lousy, until the game’s final moments when he’d morph into Elway Re-Incarnate.

Naturally, those who professionally comment on sports were dumbfounded, and endless debate ensued. But what really sparked controversy was Tebow’s personality. He’s an out-spoken Evangelical Christian, you might already know, born to a missionary family in the Philippines, attends church regularly, begins most interviews with, “I want to thank my personal Lord and Savior Jesus,” and ends with, “God bless you.” In a sports world that’s grown religiously cynical because of Jesus-thanking athletes kneeling in prayer after scoring touchdowns, one day, then sniffing cocaine in a strip club the next, Tebow’s seemingly stand-up character and public professions of faith became, to some, a breath of fresh air, while to others, a baffling annoyance.

I, too, have struggled with how to feel about Tebow. And I don’t just mean his hot-and-cold throwing abilities. I mean, especially, the non-stop, albeit genuinely nice, religious language. Some Christian churches, of course, teach that to their congregants. They believe the Church’s number one mission is to convert non-believers, and thereby save their damned souls from Hell. Thus, every conversation outside of church ought try to steer itself toward religion, hopefully “winning” the other person “for God.” As best I can tell, this is the Christianity Tebow endorses, as the ‘what we believe’ section of his father’s ministry’s website makes clear.

The Christianity I preach and practice, however, is different. Sure, I believe that if more people faithfully followed Christ’s teachings and examples, the better off we’d all be. And that’s especially true for already self-describing Christians. But I don’t believe that the only way to avoid Hell is to become Christian. Indeed, I’m skeptical that God would send any of God’s beloved children to eternal pain and torture. I put my faith, rather, in love and God’s abundantly amazing grace.

So normally, I find aggressive evangelism awkward, and in some cases, profoundly judgmental. Which puts me in a strange position vis a vis the new leader of my favorite team. Were he to ask me for spiritual counsel, I’d invite him to embrace a more open Christianity, one that’s respectful of religious differences. He could still evangelize; indeed, we all should “be and share” the Good News. It’s just he, and we, should also recognize that God’s much bigger than anything we could ever put in words.

But I also believe that you and I and Tebow can disagree about God, and still be good Christians all. For a better test of faithfulness than what you believe is what you do. And in that category, I’ve come to (mostly) respect the man. For one, it’s clear his religion’s authentic, not contrived. He’s not just trying to look good so he can sign richer endorsement deals. Plus, his own foundation, though saturated with Evangelical language, builds orphanages in the Philippines and sends disabled children to Disneyland. Sure, other things he’s supported- Focus on the Family, for instance- I don’t. But in every interview I’ve seen, he goes out of his way to be respectful and kind. Not a fire-breathing, Bible-beating Evangelical, but decent, good-hearted, even humble. And because I consider humility as good a religious value as any- regardless your faith tradition- he’s got me cheering for him. On the field, and off.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

God’s Abundant Family and…You!...

2012-01-01T05:00:00.000-08:00

How big is God’s family? Perhaps you’ll say, “It’s huge! Abundantly, gargantuanly, ginormously HUGE.” And that’s about right. The basic claim of Christian belief, I think, is that the God of Creation, our Divine Parent, is best defined with one word: Love. Which applies eternally. To all.
So the family table at God’s house doesn’t lack for people! The question for Christian churches, then, can appear simple, deceptively so- Does God’s eternally abundant grace and love set the places at our tables? Or are we limiting the invite list, removing chairs for people we don’t deem…acceptable?
The honest answer for most churches is no and yes, respectively. Even if we wish otherwise. Part of that’s our human penchant for sin and fear. But another part is that we’re human, i.e. limited. We simply don’t have God’s eternal stores of compassion and forgiveness. In God’s world, there’s “no Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free, male nor female” (Galatians 3:28), for Christ opened his arms wide to all, reconciling the world to God. In our worlds, however, we’ve doctor’s appointments, family matters, differences of opinion and values, all of which sap our energy for including everyone into our family of faith, or estrange us from folk who don’t like us.

Nevertheless, Plymouth Creek decided last January to become “a beacon of Christian openness and service in the Northwestern Suburbs”; to shine bright the light of eternal love Christ offers to everyone. And a year into making that vision a reality, the results are exciting! A community garden. New ministries to one another (the bus) and with the community (IOCP Service Night). Higher worship attendance. What a year 2011 was! What a year 2012 will be!! Yet there’s only so much we can do, only so wide we can open our hearts and arms. Not because we want less. It’s just we’re limited; we’re human. So while God’s family may be HUGE, our task is to focus our efforts, to decide what “open” and “service” means for us.
Because it could look different in different places, right? I’ve been to church-sponsored homeless dinners where, before eating, everyone had to listen to a sermon. It was service, sure, but felt needlessly underhanded. I’ve also been to churches who opened their communion table for people to receive God’s bounty, but only if you recited their preferred Creed, voted for their designated candidate, married the right person their designated number of times, or received baptism in their sanctioned way. I couldn’t stomach the elements of Christ’s body and blood in those churches, though I’m sure they’re included in God’s family. It’s just, I wanted something different from where I worship and serve God.
So as your pastor, I wonder what ‘Christian openness and service’ means to you? All year, in fact, I’ll ask that question in a variety of ways. Which may not always be comfortable, alas. After all, we’re not the same; we think differently about some things. But what makes the Disciples branch of the Christian Family Tree so powerful is our commitment to unity, while honoring differences. Nevertheless, to focus our limited resources for ministry, our church should decide what ‘openness’ and ‘service’ means to us. And, therefore, what we’ll teach to families and children we welcome to our church.
But it won’t only be uncomfortable. Indeed, it should be spiritually enriching, even fun! And to begin, we’re doing another Cinema Sermon Series. Starting January 15, and for the following three Sundays, my morning message will pair scripture with a movie. First up- The Help, then On the Water Front, Babette’s Feast and finally, How To Train Your Dragon. And I chose these movies because each speaks about family. Particularly, they’ll challenge our understandings of the boundaries and blessings of God’s Abundant Family. Then, hopefully, help us better define our personal roles in making that family a good one. So please join me for the series, and in more urgently extending God’s love to all. For many beyond our walls don’t know how great that love is, how deep and wide, open and eternal. But they can- will- if we do our part, and shine!

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Says a lot…

2011-12-28T13:32:00.001-08:00

I’ve mentioned before my belief that, if anything good comes of tragic events, it’s that people often respond with greater compassion and community awareness. I witnessed this dynamic nearly firsthand during my senior year in high school. On April 20, not far from my house, in the halls of Columbine High School (which I did not attend, by the way), two disturbed young men opened fire on their classmates and teachers. It was the deadliest school shooting in American history. And for months, a dark veil of grief and shock hung over my suburban community.

At the same time, though, people in grocery stores or at the mall didn’t cast distrustful, fearful glances upon strangers and fellow shoppers. Rather, they- we- made a point of helping others out; holding doors longer and more frequently, going out of our way to smile and say thanks. At a couple makeshift memorial sites in a park adjacent to Columbine, people left cards, flowers and posters, expressing their pain, loss and sorrow. And we didn’t judge whether those mourners ‘had a right’ to their emotional turmoil or not. Instead, we nodded in respectful silence, even occasionally joined hands and prayed. I learned those weeks that, while humans may not be totally decent at our core, at the very least there’s good in most of us, that tragedy can somehow bring out.

I also learned, in the months that followed, that this deep down goodness can just as easily recede, be forgotten, get buried in the rush of life. For as that fateful afternoon faded in our collective consciousnesses, the normal indifference that had typified my suburban community reestablished itself as the renewed normal. People didn’t stop to help as much. Smiles gave way to scowls. Again, folk muttered about, “Those darned kids” or “Those clueless geezers,” and ‘community’ evaporated under the heat ‘isolation.’ So I wonder- why do we all feel so busy and self-involved in normal times, when during extraordinary times it’s easy take time out to be kind?

Sorry for sounding dreary just days after Christmas! It’s just that I noticed this year a similar dynamic taking shape. Last Saturday, I stopped by my old house to pick up a package. We’d ordered a gift for friends and meant to give it to them Christmas Day, but alas, accidentally shipped it to house we used to rent. So I rung the old doorbell, and the current renters answered the door. I said, “Hi, I’m Shane. I used to live here. Did you receive our box from Amazon?” They said, “We got it right here.” I answered, “Thanks a lot!” They said, “No problem. And by the way, Happy Holidays!”

This wasn’t the first such interaction I’ve had in the past month. In fact, since basically the week before Thanksgiving, I’ve ended many a conversation with such a sentiment of my own. Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas! Enjoy the Turkey! Or whatever. And usually, this is in addition to the typical, “Have a nice day.” During the Holidays, it seems, we- many of us, at least- feel impelled to go the extra step, take an additional moment to wish goodwill and peace upon the world and people around us. Thankfully, it’s a wonderful event, not a tragic one, that moves us to such kindness. Nevertheless, when this Sunday has passed, and we’ve no longer an extra reason to be extra kind (Happy New Year!), what does it say about us that, in all likelihood, we’ll revert to the same ole quick and meaning-starved clichés to end our interactions with neighbors and strangers?

I don’t know, in truth. Maybe it doesn’t say much at all. But, it still being the holidays, and since I’m feeling especially optimistic, perhaps this year will be different. Maybe people- I, we- will keep finding excuses to express excessive kindness. A random, “Merry Monday!” Or surprising, “Happy Saturday!” That’d be something, wouldn’t it? Exuberant outbursts of goodness as a normal, not abnormal, event. It’d be like we began believing that all of life is extraordinary, every moment a gift from God. It’d be like we began believing…what God already believes about us.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Knowing God…

2011-12-21T10:14:00.001-08:00

Recently, a spiritually curious and thoughtful buddy asked me a good question. “When people say they ‘know God,’ what do they mean? Can anyone know…God?!” We were playing a board game at the time, so I had trouble answering fully. I mean, can you do that question justice while demolishing your opponents? So here’s my more considered response. (Btw, I lost the game…bummer)

Firstly, I said that no serious religious thinker claims to fully ‘know God,’ not without serious qualifications. Even as brilliant a Christian thinker as St. Thomas Aquinas admitted the ultimate limitations of human thought. But he developed a strategy for ‘knowing’ God that I’ve found helpful, which may seem thick at first, but truly, it’s good stuff.

Aquinas said that all knowledge about God is analogical, i.e. we don’t know God as God is, but only through analogy to our experience. Sure, we ‘experience’ God, but way different than we experience eating. So the first thing to remember when saying, “I know God is…” is that we don’t know eternal facts about God. God is much greater than our experience!

Still, God is also not not like some things we’ve experienced. For instance, many call God Father, though God isn’t our biological pops. Still, God’s also not unlike a father, in some respects. We call God caring, loving, wise, kind, and fathers (should) share those characteristics. Thus, God’s is not not my father, even though God’s not John Isaac.

Hence, Aquinas says, God is a father by analogy, or God is like a father in critical respects. Again, that may sound too complicated by half, but consider two reasons this idea’s important. #1, by starting with, “God is not, ultimately, a father,” we recognize that every analogy for God is incomplete. As father-like as God seems, God’s also very mother-like. Plus, many had terrible and abusive fathers. To say, then, God is a father, without leaving wiggle-room, makes God sound unsafe or oppressive to folk those with bad dads. The point is we ought never pretend our analogies about God are facts about God. That equals idolatry, because God is always greater!

#2, by accepting analogy as a way to ‘know God,’ we open ourselves to constantly new ideas about God. When I first accepted that Mother was as valid an analogy for God as Father, I discovered vast troves of powerful divine knowledge. My mother is creative, compassionate, giving, and through that knowledge of her, I’ve learned about God my divine Mother.

Of course, some analogies for God are inappropriate. For instance- God is like a chair. A few years back, as an ironic critique of intelligent design theory, some claimed God was a Flying Spaghetti Monster. I found this satire of bad science funny and compelling. Spiritually speaking, though, God-as-Flying-Spaghetti-Monster falls flat.

So how can we decide between useful divine analogies and foolish or oppressive ones? Well, for Christians, I believe, it begins with Jesus. We confess- by faith- that the baby born in Bethlehem is our starting point when seeking knowledge of the divine. Put differently, for Christians, Jesus is the fullest revelation of God we know. Thus, we know Jesus was born a poor peasant. So we ‘know’- by faith- God is like a poor, vulnerable babe, i.e. God values all people, especially the most vulnerable. We know Jesus taught compassion, justice and forgiveness. So Christians ‘know’- by faith- God’s like a loving, just and merciful leader. God, of course, isn’t just the historical person Jesus of Nazareth. Before he was born, God was. After his death, God remained. But God- for Christians- is not not the historical person Jesus. Rather, God is like what we saw in him. In fact, we believe God is more like Jesus than any other person or thing. However, because there’s much we don’t know about Jesus, we must be open to other metaphors, ideas and analogies if we’re to know God better. Nevertheless, if ever we wonder whether an idea’s appropriate, we can ask, “Does this contradict what we know about Jesus?” Then, perhaps, we gain greater knowledge about the God we worship and serve.

Sorry Flying Spaghetti Monster.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Goal achieving…

2011-12-15T06:00:00.000-08:00

When I began running regularly, again, sometime mid-July, I didn’t have a specific goal in mind. Yes, I told myself I’d- maybe- train to join my brother-in-law for a triathlon. A small one. June 2012. Perhaps. We’ll see, though, if I’m still running in a month, I said. After all, it wasn’t the first time I’d tried a new exercise routine…

Well, it turns out that this time, it worked. As I write this, I’m preparing to run a half-marathon tomorrow. It’s not an organized event, mind you. Simply me and my headphones, running up and down Theodore Wirth Boulevard on my day off. I’ll run a route I planned that, Google maps assures me, is 13.1 miles. And the rest of the day, I’ll sit on my couch with ice packs nearby!

What’s funny to me, as I (nervously) anticipate tomorrow, is that this goal only came about gradually, after I began running. At first, I said, “I’ll ‘run’ to the end of the block and take a break.” Soon, it became, “Once I’ve gone 5 kilometers without stopping, I’ll buy a legit pair of running shoes.” (The initial pair was a Payless special- right price, poor for the knees). Only gradually did I begin wanting to go farther and dream bigger. My wife once ran a half-marathon, years ago. When I first heard that, I thought, “Sweetheart, you’re wonderful, but that’s crazy!” Until I found myself running too, getting farther and farther each time. The idea somehow emerged, then, “If she did it, maybe I can too!”

How do we go about setting and then achieving goals? And as Christians, do we ever set goals for growth in our own spiritual fitness? I’m sure some who’ve run marathons or half-marathons, or other such events, began with the idea itself: I’m running a marathon. They then tailored all their efforts to the task, beginning to end. But for me, it took baby steps (pun unintended). Indeed, my goal setting increased only as my endurance and confidence increased. And I wonder whether I’d be preparing for tomorrow if, from the get-go, I planned on this day.

Maybe. Certainly, that works for some. But this experience has helped me appreciate the value of incrementalism. That it’s not a failure of imagination, confidence or courage if you begin by setting a small goal, uncertain whether you’ll ever attempt more, simply content with where you’re at now and the slight progress you hope to achieve. In fact, as I reflect on, say, a challenge many small churches face, it feels similar- the pressure they feel, internal and external, to get bigger, to grow. Which isn’t a bad thing; indeed, I pray we too grow as a church! But one way many small churches respond to this pressure is taking on too much too fast. They’ll say, “We need to grow like that church down the street,” when that church down the street is 5, 10, 50 times their size. Thus, when they don’t find some magic bullet that makes worship attendance explode immediately, a tsunami of blaming or guilt can overwhelm the church, drowning their energy, deluging their confidence.

But what if, instead, they said, “We may never look like that church down the street. Nevertheless, what we do is faithful and important, and we want a few others to join the team.” Then, they set a simple goal- each member tell one person (whom they’ve never told!) about why they love their church. After which, maybe, they invite another person to join them on Sunday. And perhaps it continues, with a goal of leading just three new families to join, next year. That’s not a spiritual marathon, certainly, but momentum can build.

I suspect that same incremental goal setting might help more individual pursuits too: increasing your prayer life, Bible reading, charitable giving, your compassion. Even the greatest runners, surely, began slowly, simply, over short distances. And more to the point, even those who run a mile-a-day and will never dream of marathons are still healthier, happier, more energetic, I’d bet, than they’d be otherwise. And that’s a good goal, indeed.

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Stars of hope…

2011-12-07T08:15:00.001-08:00

A couple years back, my good friend Mark became the pastor of First Congregational UCC in Moorhead, MN. And for his installation service, he asked me to preach. The invitation was quite an honor, so I tried to craft a quality sermon. On the drive up, even, I was still working, practicing the message aloud, asking for Tabitha’s feedback. Initially, she said, “Well, Shane, it’s a little…unclear.” So I scribbled and reworked- frantically- and eventually had something preachable. After I finished, Mark even said, “You did alright friend.” Which I took as great, gushing, epoch-defining praise.

I won’t rehash the sermon, but I thought you’d appreciate the main metaphor I used, considering something that’s happening at church this Advent. That metaphor was this: Installing a pastor is like Installation Art. For those unfamiliar with the genre, Installation Art is simple. An artist selects a public space- a lobby, building, park, sanctuary- then ‘installs’ in that space something s/he considers beautiful or profound. It can be a series of clear plastic tubes hanging from a tree, or empty combat boots. My favorite work was created by The Artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude, when in 1995 they wrapped the massive German Parliament Building- The Reichstag- with 100,000 square meters of polypropylene fabric. These art pieces typically remain in place for but limited time. And for that reason, some folk consider this branch of artistic expression foolhardy or unimportant.

But I think otherwise. To my friend’s congregation that day, I said we can learn something critical from Installation Art. Which is that while something ‘installed’ may abide for only months, even weeks, the goal of the installation is transforming the space forever. For instance, I cannot look at the Reichstag now without imagining the wrapping. So the building, to me, seems more like a gift than an imposing bastion of political power. I thought my friend should know that he had such an opportunity at the church where he was being installed. And, therefore, a responsibility to create something beautiful, profound and lasting with that congregation.

In case you’re wondering, I’m not describing this because I’m contemplating leaving Plymouth Creek! My hope is my installation will remain in place for awhile yet to come. Rather, I want to highlight something beautiful and profound that’s currently ‘installed’ in our sanctuary. You may’ve heard that our intern, Lynda Lee, was organizing a “Worship and Art” project, and after church last Sunday, she and many other Plymouth Creekers put the plan in motion. Together, they created stars and collages, fabric drapings and origami, all of which they then hung/installed in our sanctuary. I walked in there this morning, and let me tell you friends, it’s incredible! A few weeks back I confessed that one way I discern the Spirit moving in my life is when I feel my tear ducts begin to well with emotion. Today, walking around our worship space, seeing the incredible creativity of our members, their profound ideas and spiritual commitment, I had a sudden desire to weep, and thus said, “Thank you, Spirit, for this gift.” Truly, what Lynda and her team of artists have done is a sight to behold. And you can see it for yourself throughout this Advent and Christmas season.

But what to make of this sudden installation? Well, as I recall, the project’s theme was “hope.” After all, this Advent we’ve been talking about the good, good life Jesus led, and has freed us to lead ourselves. In other words, our Christmas vision this year is quite hopeful! Starting with that theme, Lynda’s group then reinterpreted it through modern symbols and stories, expressing artistically the hope they see, or want to see, in the world around us. At least, I think that was the goal. Meaning that we’ll be surrounded by, saturated with hope as we worship together this season. And perhaps- I hope- we’ll be so moved by their creativity, that even when it’s taken down and the new year comes, their hope will remain. As a memory of our sanctuary. As a reality in our hearts. As a motivation for the light we shine together as Christ’s Disciples.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Shivering with love…

2011-12-01T15:34:00.001-08:00

My dog does something I call the “Shake of Love.” It happens when I (or anyone, really) spend more than four seconds giving her undivided attention. We could be wrestling, or I could be scratching her belly. Whatever initiates it, she deeply enjoys such encounters, her speedily wagging tail being all the proof I need. And if I (or anyone, really) keep it up long enough, she’ll get so overwhelmed with joy that she stops and shakes herself as fast as possible, as if she’d just been doused with water. As I said, the “Shake of Love.” After which, she bounds back to me (or anyone, really), making it abundantly clear she wants the tummy rub, wrestling, personal attention continued. It’s all very cute. Until it’s not, and I have to make her stop wrestling with or licking me. Fawkes the Dog is nothing if not…persistent.

And consistent. Because this pretty much occurs without fail. Again, fulfill every above condition and Fawkes, she’s a-shakin’. Therefore, naturally, I’m jealous. My enjoyment of or ‘love’ for others decidedly does not arise so quickly, so excessively, so exuberantly, so easily. Not usually, at least. Sure, some would say, “Shane, dogs are different, more trusting.” But why should that be? Dogs get scared too. And especially for us Christians, we who follow the leader who once implored, “Love you neighbor as yourself.” Though we can’t wick water off our bodies with wild gesticulations (thus our shakes of love would look a tad different), why aren’t we as generous and enraptured with our love of others as my dog?

I wonder if the key here is memory. Our dog trainer said, “Don’t discipline Fawkes if she chews up the sofa, but you weren’t around when it happened. Her short-term memory is limited. So she won’t associate your discipline with her actions.” Humans, by contrast, remember much, much more. I read recently about the memory-making wonder machine that is the human brain, how we form richly detailed memories, how frequently that occurs, how we translate those memories into general impressions (and biases) about the world, ourselves and others.

And particularly, how amazing we are at… distorting what happens to us. Apparently, studies show that when a person’s wronged, s/he often amplifies how bad what happened actually was. But when the shoe’s on the other foot, we “remember” ourselves being much more conscientious and considerate than the person we wronged says we were. Of course, in some situations it doesn’t matter whether a person amplifies the offense or not. Some wrongs are truly horrific, regardless the excuses an offender gives. But in the everyday rush hours and pushy airport lines of life, it rings true to my experience that people (not me, of course) would remember the actions of others in more negative lights than the actions of self. And therefore- perhaps- be more reserved with offering love, trust, kindness than our short-term limited, lovable pets.

Fortunately for us, though, another human capacity is change, i.e. if we’re open to the possibility that maybe someone ‘remembers’ an issue differently than you, we can adapt our feelings of hurt or frustration by seeking common ground. I wonder, even, if this has something to do with what Jesus meant by, “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.” We’re often quick to see extenuating circumstances in our behavior, accept complex motivations for what we do, or excuse an oversight or thoughtless action. Sometimes we’re even capable of forgiving ourselves. What if we extended the same treatment to others? What if we did so repeatedly enough, even, that our instincts weren’t based on the pained, fearful, unloving or selfish memories we’re so good are creating and storing, but on the loving, joyful, patient and accepting attitudes we allow for our own behavior? That need not be mean indulging another’s mistakes, idiotic actions or downright malicious deeds. Our big brains can tell the difference. But perhaps if we accepted that most others as, basically, the same wonderful, flawed humans we are, we’d find ourselves shaking with love more often. And life would be sweeter for it.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Hope for the Holidays…

2011-12-01T06:00:00.000-08:00

One decent part of how our culture “celebrates” the holidays is the expectation that it be a joyful season. Sure, much of that festivity seems wildly manufactured; loud TV announcers declaring “THE DEAL OF THE CENTURY”, cheesy marketing posters showcasing smiling families in name brand clothing. Some of what counts as ‘holiday cheer’ can mask a kind of greed, or shallowness of spirit, or something. Nevertheless, we could do worse than encouraging joy this time of year. Imagine we gave into the dark days and cold nights, hunkered down, hibernated, awaited Spring. Depressing, amen?!

Fortunately, we don’t. We sing carols, wear bright sweaters, resurrect time-honored traditions and put on a happy face. The desire to feel joy- to bathe in it and share it with others- that lifts many a mood. Even if it feels forced at times.

Because it can, right? Often, it does. After all, coupled with glossy coupons and internet deals are news reports of impeding economic doom across the pond and here at home, continued uncertainty at work, reminders of family turmoil. Minus the holiday sentiment, our communities’ collective mood resides currently near the drain. At least, that’s how it seems to me, though I suspect I’m not alone.

A cynical person, then, might sneer at holiday cheer, deriding an anchorless culture that tries to buy its way into feeling better. I’ve heard that said before, even felt such frustration or protest or despair sneak its way into my soul. Yet I simply can’t find a way to give into the doldrums or awash my worldview in anger. Sorry to say, my friends, but I’m grateful to be alive.

And not just in the, “I’m supposed to say that” sense. I’m truly, blissfully humbled for the gift of life in this world. I type these letters on a wizard machine, or so our ancestors would assess computers. Given prudent saving and a little luck, I might fly somewhere for vacation, eventually. Even if I pay more for bacon and Brussels sprouts that I’d prefer my regular food choices are by all objective measures dazzling. Assuming I don’t mess up the cooking!

Yes, life can be hard. My responsibilities and stress levels this past year have been, at times, overwhelming. But I’m well aware that what I struggle with is nowhere near as tough as many- most?- of the world’s population. So forgive me if I don’t share the culture’s dire assessment of life today. I want things to get better, absolutely; I especially want life to improve for the poor, the lonely, the jobless and abused in our midst. For that reason, I give money, time and more to benefit ‘the least of these.’ But I’m also frustrated with the doomsayers, those who just can’t find anything good to say. Especially when such commentators have a lot to be thankful for.

Thus, I’m hoping that our congregation will buck trends this Advent, and celebrate the joy of Christmas with guileless, uninhibited abandon! Remember, the story of our Savior’s birth isn’t without dark sides or rough edges. There was no room in the inn; a manger crib certainly stank! When it ended, Joseph and Mary returned to fragile peasant living. Nevertheless, the Holy Mother said, “My soul magnifies the Lord!” For she believed, and in time Jesus would prove definitively, that the Author of Creation showers all our days with love, desires abundant life for all life from now until the end of time. Indeed, through the eyes of faith, we see in that Christmas babe a vision of what God’s great heart intended- a good, good life for all God’s children, united through grace.

So I invite you, as we worship together this holiday season, ring bells and give gifts and swap stories old and new, to claim personally the deepest truths of our faith- that joy is our inheritance, that love will always win. And even if it feels forced at times, more a hope or prayer than a heartfelt fact, for now, to declare that the life we lead is a good, good life indeed. For as Jesus’ followers we know, Christ was born for this.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Prince of Peace…

2011-11-23T14:52:00.001-08:00

I realized something brilliant last Saturday. The reason the “Holiday Season” begins waaayyy too early isn’t commercialism, greed, or a cultural dearth of meaning. Rather, it’s Christmas Carols.

Yep, the reason for “Christmas Creep” is the songs we sing. My proof? Imagine if we had “Halloween Sing-along’s” or “Thanksgiving Carols.” Stores would have more options to entice shoppers into seasonal moods; music stations would avoid Christmas stuff until after Thanksgiving. In other words, if we had more holiday music than Christmas Carols, life as we know it would change. Is this observation earth-shattering? No. But I’m proud I thought of it first.

As it is, year after year, we replay melodies of shepherds watching flocks by a silent, O-Holy night. But objectively speaking, that’s strange right? That we invest so much in repeating the same story, again and again. And again. You’d think we’d have squeezed it dry by now?! What more could we possibly learn that we haven’t already read about, sung about, for ages?!

Well, here’s my theory- The BIG ideas that transform our lives, our world, etc., don’t arise one day, and Poof! everything changes. Instead, they require time to work their magic. And patience. Stops and starts; perhaps centuries of infiltration. Only then- if ever- can these blessed inspirations work out their full, gracious effects.

For example: Christianity’s “The-Christmas-Babe-is-the-Prince-of-Peace” belief. On the surface, the claim appears ludicrous. Thirty(ish) years after birth, Jesus died a violent death. By 400, his followers ruled a war-obsessed empire (Rome). In later centuries, Christians perpetrated Crusades and Wars of Religion, endured invasions by Islam and the Mongolian Hordes, organized the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. Prince of Peace, we call Jesus. But since his birth, peace has seemed…elusive. Thus, some wonder, whether it’s sane, even, to celebrate his nativity every year.

But recently I finished a book that meticulously documented something related, and if true, is one of our time’s most inspirational, hopeful stories. Did you know that we live in the safest, least violent and most peaceful era the world’s ever seen? That is, since the evolution of humanity. Really, as best we know, every society prior to modern, economically developed, 21st-century nations has endured higher rates of murder and war- and frankly, it’s not even close. At least that’s what the statistics of this Harvard professor/author claim. Which isn’t saying everything’s glorious. Only that progress has been made. I won’t rehash his data here, but if that surprises you, join the club.

So what happened?! Well, according to the book’s author, religion had nothing to do with it. After all, he points out, religious folk have messed things up plenty. Fair enough, but I wonder if he misunderstands the nature of faith. To him, our major problem is we’ve so often preached peace, but made war. But come now- religious folk aren’t the world’s only hypocrites.

Besides, and here’s my theory, I suspect momentum’s been building ever since God first inspired, “Love thy neighbor as thyself,” or Jesus claimed, “Whatsoever you do unto the least of these, you do unto me.” Applying those (groundbreaking, back then) ideas has taken time; our circles of compassion and empathy have expanded in fits and starts. But it began somewhere, and the trend’s been ever-expanding. As MLK Jr. put it, “The moral arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” Thus, I’d guess, our annually honoring the “Prince of Peace” (coupled with similar efforts by other great religions) has assisted, maybe caused, these cumulative effects. The world’s great powers, for the first time ever, haven’t warred for over fifty years; murder rates in industrialized countries are at historical lows; infanticide and slavery are now considered unthinkable. I could continue, but the trend’s clear. Peace is happening. Not everywhere, for everyone, but for more than ever before.

Obviously, that doesn’t mean we should stop praying for peace, stop working for it, stop opposing those who oppose it. Things can always change. But as we begin our annual Advent waiting, we ought recognize life’s good news, and the positive developments occurring. And maybe pray a prayer of gratitude for the Prince of Peace’s guidance.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Goal achieving…

2011-11-16T14:37:00.001-08:00

Guest Voices…

2011-11-10T04:00:00.000-08:00

Y’all know that my wife is an ordained minister too, and quite capable at that. If I do say so myself… Well, recently, a group called the “Young Clergy Woman’s Project” asked her to contribute a pastoral reflection on the impact of money on faith in modern life, and it was posted to their website last week. Personally, I found it quite interesting, and insightful. So rather than write my own letter this week, I wanted to share her work with you. I hope you enjoy it; I’ll be interested to hear your thoughts.

Grace and Peace,

Shane

P.S. - Pay close attention to final sentences. A declaration of Disciple of Christ belief if e’er I read one.

It's Just Math
by Tabitha Isner

“This is not class warfare—it’s math.”

On September 19th, President Obama proposed a deficit reduction plan that would be paid for by tax hikes for families making $250,000 or more annually, a group that makes up just 1.5% of the U.S. population. Conservative pundits expressed concerns that President Obama was either engaging in or encouraging “class warfare.” To this President Obama responded, “This is not class warfare—it’s math.”

At the same time, an “Occupy Wall Street” protest began in NYC, and now similar protests have spread around the world. Protesters at such events have made a habit of chanting “We are the 99 percent” in reference to the fact that 1% of the nation’s population is taking home a quarter of all income in the U.S. each year (a phenomenon eloquently described by Nobel Laureate economist Joseph Stiglitz’s article “Of the 1%, By the 1%, For the 1%” in Vanity Fair’s May 2011 issue).

It just so happens that I spend my days as a policy research analyst, so I’m used to thinking about the implications of what others see as mere numbers. But this particular debate – class warfare versus math – got me thinking theologically: Where does Jesus stand on class warfare?

That one is easy. Jesus does NOT like warfare. The Prince of Peace wouldn’t stand for it.

But wait…. how does Christ feel about math?

Searching my concordance, looking in the New Interpreter’s, flipping through my mental rolodex of dead theologians…. and …. Zilch. Where other sources failed, Google provided an answer:

Thank you, Google. That is, indeed, some Jesus math.

Despite the absurdity of an equation for salvation, the question is a real one: what does the Christian tradition say about the attitude we should take toward the rich in society?

The Bible has very little good to say about the rich and very little good advice for the rich. The rich are described as not allowing the poor even the scraps from their table. The rich are described as having their reward on earth and therefore not entitled to tenderness in death. It’s easier, we’re told, to get a camel through the eye of a needle than a rich man into heaven. And the only advice for a rich man: Go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor. In other words, stop being rich. Woe, woe, woe… to you who are rich.

So there you have it. The rich are in big trouble.

What a relief for the rest of us! If only those rich folks on Wall Street would do as Jesus says and give their money to the poor folks. The other 99% of us would really appreciate that.

But the disciples weren’t relieved to hear Jesus’ advice to the rich man; they were “greatly astounded.” They reply, “But Jesus! Then who can be saved?” Unlike 21st century USA, the disciples assumed only two categories of people: the rich and the poor. The poor were an easy-to-recognize group: widows, orphans, slaves, beggars, lepers, anyone who was crippled physically or mentally. Everybody else was rich. By degrees, perhaps, and types – farmer, herdsman, tradesman – but rich nonetheless. And that included the disciples, a group of fishermen, religious/political activists and one tax collector – all solidly middle class professions by modern standards. They were wandering homeless with Jesus, but they still did not claim to be poor.

The Bible, I believe, is profoundly concerned about wealth. Deeply suspicious of the rich. Highly preferential to the poor. It boldly demands that the rich give everything they have to the poor. Such a stance really could be interpreted as class warfare. Woe to the 1%! Woe to Wall Street!

But such an interpretation arbitrarily draws a line at 1%, deciding on a whim which of God’s beloved children have too much and allowing those with a penny less than the magic number to join the poor in wagging their collective finger.

Mathematically, we are indeed the 99%. But we’re not just the poorest 99%. We’re also the richest 99%. (I know you’re curious where exactly you rank, so go ahead, check your global wealth rank here and your U.S. wealth rank here.) And chances are, if you start factoring in the many advantages you have had in life, you’ll find that you are scoring awfully high on the “privilege scale.” (For example, if you’re clergy, you probably have a professional degree, in which case you are more educated than 97% of the U.S. population. [1])

Now I acknowledge that if the CEOs and Wall Street bankers of the world sold all their possessions and gave it to the poor, it would be significantly more cash than would come from your or my possessions. While the amount that the top 1% could (and should) give is bigger than what you or I could give, the obligation is shared. All of us – you, me, and Wall Street – we’re on the same side of this terrifying admonition to “give it all to the poor.”

So while income inequality and wealth distribution are serious injustices that our Christian faith calls us to address, we do not need to participate in a blame game that scapegoats the richest 1% for an economic system that they did not create alone. Treating the rich as outcasts or social pariahs is not how Christians are called to respond. Blame and demonization are simply not Christ-like approaches to rectifying injustice.

Now let me be clear. I support an overhaul of the tax system. I would advocate for an even more progressive tax policy than Obama has proposed. But I would like to do so while acknowledging my own participation in the economic system that produces such extreme inequalities. I would like to do so while also suggesting that educational inequalities, health care access, sexism and racism are contributing to the problem. I would like to do so while standing hand in hand with my neighbors who grew up on welfare and never left, my neighbors whose homes were destroyed by a tornado, and my neighbors with stock options and golden parachutes. Because standing together, we are more than 99%. We are whole.

(And that’s some math I think Jesus would appreciate.)

********

Gospel postscript: Having heard that “it is harder for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to get into heaven,” the greatly-astounded disciples asked Jesus, “Then who can be saved?” And Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but for God all things are possible.” And then Jesus led his middle (upper) class disciples on to the next adventure in faithfulness. Amen, I say, alleluia and amen.

[1] http://www.census.gov/hhes/socdemo/education/data/cps/2009/tables.html

Lashing out…

2011-11-03T17:34:00.001-07:00

I wrote recently about my emerging interest in running, and the exciting day I finally learned “to pace myself.” Well, like most serious new pursuits, my growth as a runner has included negative moments too. And I want to share something today that inspired neither pride nor pleasant feelings!

It’s about my dog, since I bring Fawkes on most runs. Which is good theory: Exercise for me and the puppy, all in one fell swoop. I’m healthier; she’s happier, and so eats fewer sofa cushions. It’s become where now, when I reach for running shoes, her tail begins wagging mightily in anticipation.

But the downside of Fawkes-the-canine-running-partner is her great, big lack of self-control. Especially around squirrels. Like in the movie Up, when a squirrel enters view, my dog stops everything to focus all attention on that little beasty. But rather than simply stare, Fawkes runs after the squirrel, initiating an unsolicited game of chase. In our backyard, that’s cute and funny. Indeed, the one time she actually caught a squirrel, Fawkes was so surprised/confused, it wiggled out and ran away before Fawkes decided what to do. But when I’m running, with Fawkes on her leash, every squirrel she chases means another strong pull against my arm and shoulders. Thus, I must stop my regular stride and breathing, restrain her, tell her no, then tug her along.

Mostly, this behavior’s just a nuisance, one I hope to train away. But I’ve learned that the longer the run goes (i.e. the more tired we both get), the worse her attention span becomes. And…the worse I respond. I recognized this dynamic soon after we began running together. Early in runs, she’ll go for squirrels, and I’m like, “No big deal.” Later on, though, when I’m sweating hard and breathing heavy, I’ve found myself yelling at my dog, aggressively and angrily- No! Stop!- trying to intimidate her into obedience, or whatever. I’ve made scenes in the middle of the street even- awkward dog owner screaming at pet. Not that anyone’s ever watching, but still, we use positive reinforcement with her as much as possible, since dog trainers claim that’s most effective. But apparently, when I’m tired, my patience plummets, and at least in this instance, I act in ways I don’t approve.
As I said, I’m learning about myself though running, even lessons I’d prefer to need! But at least, since I identified the tendency, I’ve become less controlled by it. Now, when I’m tired and Fawkes tugs, I restrain both her and myself! But I haven’t eliminated the instinct entirely. It’s still present, alas, and waiting to lash out.

Have you ever felt something similar? Not to avoid blame, but I suspect this whole “reacting poorly when I’m tired” phenomenon isn’t unique to me. Consider parenting. Since this happened, I’ve thought, “God bless my parents!” For not acting ridiculous when I was bratty and they were super tired. Sure, I remember times when they’d snap or lash out irrationally. But they did so much less frequently than I suspect they felt the urge, given how often I pushed and how tiring life can be! And never in abusive or damaging ways. Or how about schoolteachers? I remember some who seemed arbitrary with their punishments or emotionally fragile, even though they faced similar circumstances as other, more effective teachers. Perhaps they simply hadn’t learned to cope well with fatigue.

Years ago, I heard a Martin Luther quote that basically said, “I pray one hour a day. When I’m busy, though, I can’t survive with less than two.” I always thought that goofy, but this experience has shifted my perspective. I wonder if Martin also became less kind or patient or focused when fatigue, stress and busy-ness threatened to overwhelm. I know prayer, especially when done ahead-of-time(!!), helps me moderate the exhaustion factor and endure difficult times. That’s true for running with my dog, but also work, relationships, paying bills- whatever threatens emotional tranquility. But the key, perhaps, is simply learning what triggers you to lash out, and committing to responding better when they’re set off. That helps me, at least. And Fawkes, I’m sure, is grateful.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

A Good Life…

2011-11-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

Last month I had a “milestone” birthday: on October 9, I turned thirty. If you weren’t in service that morning, you should know they called a surprise “congregational meeting.” The one item on the agenda was presenting me with gifts- Depends, Geritol, reading glasses and a Gift Card. For the generous gift card, I want to say Thank You! For the other stuff, I’ll get to gratitude in a few decades.

Anyway, the expectation with birthdays that end in -0, so it seems, is that you ‘reflect’ on “what it all means.” Honestly, I think that’s overdramatic. Turning 30, 50, or 90 means whatever you choose to make of it. Nevertheless, in recent weeks it’s sunk in that I’m approaching the day I must officially drop ‘young’ before self-describing as an ‘adult.’ I’ve still got a few years, but it’s coming, I realize now. Thus, some might say, “Panic!” But it’s alright by me.

I mean, I’ve never fully understood why some folk fear aging as much as they claim. Sure, our culture nurtures some deeply hostile attitudes toward old age. Youth is idolized while many older adults are encouraged to live segregated from much society. Perhaps many young folk, then, never spend time with their elders; never learning their wisdom, understanding their struggles, realizing that we’ve all got a lot in common. Who knows?

One distinction worth thinking about, though, between people at different stations in life is the amount of time spent looking forward or looking back. I’ve never seen any studies on this, so I’m just guessing here. But I imagine that the older one gets, the more one’s mix between reminiscing and ‘dreaming about the future’ changes. If for no other reason then you have more memories to ponder the older you get! I know some who’d say all that’s dangerous, that we must always strive to live “in the present”, not muse over days gone by or fantasize about what might come. Which is an alright idea, in some regards, but I’m not convinced it’s always the best goal.

Consider this: We Christians are approaching Advent; it begins November 27, in fact. So from then until Christmas, we’ll spend time remembering the past, one particular set of events even. And we do this annually; talk of angels and shepherds, Magi and the baby Jesus, trusting that somehow we’ll discover something new, enriching and meaningful in the same ole stories. Is that the same as ‘living in the past’? Maybe. I know some churches for whom every Sunday, but especially those around the holidays, are excuses to dwell in days gone by; better times, they tell themselves, simpler and serene.

To those churches and their members I would absolutely say: Stop remembering, and start living- Now, in the present! But I don’t think that describes Plymouth Creek. I hope that whenever we look back- to the birth of Jesus, the founding of our denomination, the good and difficult times this congregation has faced- we do so expecting to rediscover God’s presence, and thus get a better sense of what to look for in days ahead. That’s how faith works, when it’s working well. The people of God remembering what good things God’s done, so we’re better prepared for the exciting mission to come.

It’s with that double sense of time- of what was and what will be- that I hope we enter this Advent/Christmas season together. In fact, taken from the lyrics of a gleefully infectious pop song by the band OneRepublic, I’ve decided to give the 2011 season the following theme: “This Could Really Be a Good Life”. It applies, obviously, to the birth of Jesus, and our remembering what great things that baby would do for the world one day. But I hope that as we celebrate all the wonder and joy of his good, good life, we’ll re-claim those things for ourselves, our families and our church. For truly, in the life of faith, what was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be. And as the birth of the baby Jesus reminds us, what that is is good. Very good. For all the world.

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Blurry vision…

2011-10-27T11:35:00.000-07:00

I don’t often read poetry. No reason; just don’t. But when I do, some verse may catch my attention, and occupy it for awhile. Like, in the case of the following poem, about ten years:

I- How wisely Nature did decree,
With the same eyes to weep and see!
That, having viewed the object vain,
They might be ready to complain.

II- What in the world most fair appears,
Yea, even laughter, turns to tears…
Yet happy they whom grief doth bless,
That weep the more, and see the less…

III- So Magdalen, in tears more wise
Dissolved those captivating eyes,
Whose liquid chains could flowing meet
To fetter her Redeemers feet.

IV- Ope then mine eyes your double sluice,
And practice so your noblest use.
For others too can see, or sleep;
But only human eyes can weep.

V- Thus let your streams o’erflow your springs,
Till eyes and tears be the same things:
And each the other’s difference bears;

These weeping eyes, those seeing tears.

It sounds old, right? Because it is; written in 17th Century England. Nevertheless, when I first read it, I was struck by how contemporary the idea felt; specifically that tears could somehow supplement the data eyes pass along.

That’s not how some folk talk, after all. Think of ‘eyes’ in the poem as a metaphor for reason and information, and ‘tears’ another metaphor for feelings and emotion. In which case, what ‘eyes see’ is commonly thought not assisted, but impeded by ‘tears.’ Indeed, the mature adult, some say, ought separate such things. Feel your emotions, but don’t let them infect your thinking.

At least, that used to be the standard. In recent years, however, philosophers and scientists have challenged such notions, suggesting that we’d be better decision-makers, analysts, even spectators if we integrated hearts with minds. Or, in the poem’s language, let ‘eyes and tears be the same things.’ Imagine detachedly assessing your child, listing pros and cons, in order to determine whether to invest in her/his future. Ridiculous, right?! You’d miss a key ingredient- love. In other words, a thoughtful person must also be an emotionally developed person. And vice verse for those who feel deeply, but think little about it.

Why does this matter for Christians? Well, I’ve been wondering recently how y’all understand the Holy Spirit. You know, that part of the Trinity many find uncomfortable, or embarrassing… It comes to mind because, during a recent worship service, I found myself holding back tears. And this wasn’t the first time; in fact, it happens regularly. During sermons, listening to prayer, singing a moving song. All these experiences and more can induce my eyes to well up.

Strange? That’s what I thought at first too! Until I realized (after hearing another Christian I admire admit the same) that this may just be how the Holy Spirit does Her work in me. Maybe that’s over-dramatizing something I should talk about in therapy… But assuming not, I truly believe that when the Spirit moves in my life, S/He often starts at my tear ducts.

Or to put it differently- Perhaps, during those times when all my typical distractions, doubts and frustrations fade away and I’m finally focused first on God, my spirit touches something, connects with someone divine. And the way it informs me is tears. Doesn’t happen always at church or in prayer, or even often, but when it does, it usually feels the same. Not like I’m about to break down; just the beginning of tears. But it’s enough, apparently, to entice me to ‘open my eyes wider’, to ‘look’ more closely at what’s happening.

I admit- I could be weird, but I suspect it’s a bigger phenomenon than me. So I wonder if maybe the Holy Spirit sometimes uses our emotional lives to tell our rational minds when to pay better attention. Which isn’t the same as hearing God speak clearly, like with a British accent! Simply God utilizing our whole selves- spirit, mind, heart- to bring awareness to God’s wondrous presence, and teach God’s Holy ways. “Those seeing tears,” indeed…

Does that make sense? How do you “feel,” “sense,” “hear/see/experience” the Holy Spirit?

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Settling in…

2011-10-21T08:05:00.001-07:00

After a long hiatus, I began regularly exercising again mid-July. And as you might expect, it’s been a blessing. The break in my previous workout routine wasn’t planned, or even desired, but then again, they never are, right?! It started around the time we bought a puppy, I’ve noticed, but I’ll try not to blame Fawkes. Anyway, the point is I’ve rejoined the ranks of the regularly exercising. Yeah!

It’s different this time, however. Rather than lift weights, now I’m running. I find this funny, since running has always seemed like torture to me. And thus, for the first few weeks , I ran regularly, but I haaaated it! Part of the issue was that those days were wickedly hot. Plus- of course- was the fact I was wickedly out of shape. But mostly, I’ve learned, was that I’d never accepted something a good runner must: you can’t win the race if you burn yourself out on mile 1.

This lesson hit me one morning early August, when for whatever reason, I decided to go slow. Typically, before then, I wouldn’t allow myself such sluggishness. I’d always “push myself,” go faster, trying to keep up with, well, who knows! But that morning I felt tired or entitled, since I’d run the previous four. Regardless the cause, I started running and settled into what felt like a snail’s pace. And what’s more, I kept at that pace despite frequent feelings of needing to speed up. But what do you know: When I finished that run, I’d gone farther, faster, with fewer stops than ever before!

Which makes sense, theoretically, Slow and Steady wins the race and all that. Still, it’s one thing to know what works, and another to feel it, in your bones. After that run, I felt it, and it was a milestone for me. Suddenly, running was no longer torture, but a legitimate exercise activity. Strange, my friends, but true.

Well- surprise, surprise- I have since spiritualized the experience, figuring that what works for distance running might have other applications too. Like, say, prayer, and especially developing a daily pattern in one’s life. Have you ever tried doing this after a time of not praying much? I have, and like my first experiences of jogging this summer, I began way too fast. I’d expect of myself, say, thrice daily for significant minutes each time. Or I’d get three prayer books and ‘commit’ to reading from them all, every day. Unsurprisingly, that created burnout, and it settled in quick. Thus, the daily prayer experiment ended before it really got going.

Other times, however, I’ve treated prayer (and this applies to most spiritual practices, really, like meditation, scripture reading, fasting, journaling, cooking…) much like my body. I’ve recognized it can be disciplined, trained, built up and strengthened. But it takes time to move from one level to the next, as your spirit get more used to strenuous, lengthy exercise. Like my body while running, my spirit while praying is susceptible to fatigue and burnout. And this comparison works particularly well when you think about God’s reaction.

Do you think God expects us all, already, always, to be marathon-trained prayer athletes? Or is it God’s desire to simply hear from us, be with us in prayer more regularly? Answer: B. Which you know as well

Then I’m strong…

2011-10-13T08:44:00.001-07:00

Last March, I tried making a “poor man’s green bean casserole.” And it was bad. Very bad. Desperately terrible. Multiple things went wrong- substandard ingredients, haphazard planning. But the biggest issue was, I realized latter, my overcompensating for weak sauce.

Here’s what happened. I gathered stirred everything together and let the casserole bake. After pulling it from the oven, I dutifully dipped in my tasting spoon. But it didn’t taste like I’d expected; indeed, it barely tasted at all! So to ‘spice things up,’ I added extra ingredients, then seasoned the concoction with (way too much) salt. When the next tasting revealed I’d overdone the saltiness, I added more extra ingredients and tasted again. This led to another round of seasoning, then another round of spices, until the flavor profile became more muddled than my fifth grade band practice.

Now, I’m certain experienced cooks would have much to critique. But what I learned from the failure was the value of incremental pacing. Especially when a sauce is weak, ‘shock and awe’ is not the best strategy for making it edible. Pinches of paprika perhaps, a miniscule measurement of marjoram…maybe. But handfuls of sodium and ounces of cayenne can put sauce past the point of no return. Quickly. I should’ve remembered my Aesop’s fables, and proceeded tortoise like- Slow and Steady. It may not have worked anyway, but would’ve given the food a fighting chance.

I mention this regrettable episode in light of something I did last week. As part of this year’s CROP Walk, I fasted for a day in solidarity with the hungry folk for whom we walked. I’ve fasted before, and each time is unique. So what struck me this time was how weak I felt as the day went on. Certainly, the feeling was relative. Skipping a few meals is far from what famine-stricken Somalis are currently enduring. Nevertheless, as I performed simple tasks or ran errands, what started with slight hunger pains become a full-bodied yearning for sustenance. And what surprised most was how distracting that was; the large disruption this emerging weakness imposed on my ability to focus or think.

Which prompted a spiritual question: When you feel weak, is it helpful to summon all your strength and try overwhelming weakness with a kind of spiritual/psychical ‘shock and awe’? Or is that counter-productive? Take, for example, the experience of starting something new (a ministry at church, workout regime, pattern of behavior, prayer routine). Almost regardless of what it is, a newbie will feel vulnerable, even ‘weak.’ Yes, you might really want to do this new thing; saw how meaningful it was for others. But it requires learning much you don’t know, building skills you don’t have, letting go of old habits and occasionally failing. Some, of course, try the shock and awe method- work at it real hard, non-stop until they no longer feel uncomfortable. But how many diets have been scuttled by pushing too hard, too soon? Getting good at something takes repetition, and so for most folk, patience.

A favorite section of mine in the Bible deals with cultivating patience as regards weakness. It may not work for everything, but it’s worth pondering. In 2 Corinthians 12, regarding an unnamed weakness, Paul hears God say, “My grace is sufficient for you. For my power is made perfect in weakness.” In other words, rather than battle what troubled him with the strength of his psychological fortitude, instead Paul practiced turning it over to God. Which wasn’t a one-time experience. But that makes sense. Ever asked for forgiveness? Or tried forgiving someone else? Didn’t happen all at once, did it? But, if you took time to cultivate spiritual endurance by regularly admitting your need for God’s grace, that may not have made things easy, but I’d bet it helped. A lot!

Certainly, when I felt weak while fasting, it was better to admit that feeling and release it to God, rather than scold myself for not trying harder to focus better. With that tactic, the weakness didn’t dissipate immediately. But as I repeated, slowly but surely I felt better.

Now if only I can replicate in my cooking…

Grace and Peace,
Shane

The more things change…

2011-10-06T07:34:00.000-07:00

A group of Plymouth Creekers, on September 23, had lunch with a monk. We were spending the day at St. John’s University- looking at their world-famous Bible, worshipping with the monastic community- and our tour guide, Brother John, joined us for a meal. We didn’t expect it; we figured he had better things to do. But he said, “I don’t mean to presume…but do you mind if I dine with you?” Absolutely!, we responded, and were very glad he did.

After all, how often do you hang out with a member of a monastery? For much of Christian history, monks were folk whom non-professional Christians encountered regularly. And that’s still the case in some Catholic or Orthodox communities. But at least since the Protestant Reformation, certainly in America, those who’ve undertaken this unique vocation have receded to the periphery of many Christians’ consciousness. Some even wonder, “Why would someone ever become a monk? Isn’t that just…running away from life?”

Well, as we discovered, that answer is No. At least, for Brother John. I think the entire group found him approachable, charming, and well informed about issues Christian communities face. We discussed the always sensitive topic of music in church. He talked about how many monks from his monastery once served small Minnesota parishes. But that ministry has diminished in recent decades as both monastery and churches struggled with lower numbers. Sound familiar?!

But the conversation that sticks with me was when he taught us Protestants about the Catholic doctrine of Purgatory. You’ve heard about that, right? According to Roman church teaching, the afterlife isn’t simply a one-time decision about Heaven or Hell. Rather, in the Middle Ages especially, theologians began postulating that God created a middle option, a holding cell, where folk who didn’t deserve damnation, but hadn’t yet merited Paradise, would reside after death. There- in Purgatory- the soul would abide, sometimes performing penance for sins in life, hopefully receiving the prayers of still-alive family or friends. And at some point, God would likely relent, saying, “Alright, now you’re in!”

I used to think this a funny idea. But the more I’ve learned, the more I’ve understood how compassionate it was. Christians used to look at great saints as the models for Christian behavior. Which is cool, since saints often performed remarkable, courageous acts of charity and faith. The problem is, well, most of us aren’t saints! So if being a saint was the goal, what about the masses who fell short?

Purgatory. And notice, that’s much better than Hell! Put differently, the church taught that even if you weren’t an exemplar of virtue or revered martyr, nevertheless through your everyday goodness, willingness to atone for your mistakes, and the continued love people gave you after death, you could still receive the ultimate reward- Eternal Paradise. Effectively, this meant we weren’t powerless; that everyday people mattered to God, and crucially, what we did could make a difference. In the days the Purgatory doctrine developed, most people lived quite un-empowered lives. Typically serfs (slaves) on some lord’s lands, often at the mercy of merciless armies. Still, the church taught, when it comes to eternity, you had something to work for.

Whether I believe in Purgatory or not, I like the notion of viewing normal people with dignity and respect. And in the Purgatory idea, as originally intended, that’s what transpired. Of course, as Brother John pointed out, most good ideas get misused, and Purgatory is no exception. Still, for the time when it arose, Purgatory enriched the faith and lives of everyday Christians, and thus, served a need that others in society denied them. Indeed, he continued, all good church doctrine should have exactly such life-giving, practical implications.

Which brings up an interesting question, that I’ll simply leave for you to answer for yourselves, or in a reply email to me if you wish: If positive, this-worldly impact on our everyday lives is the standard for good doctrine- and, therefore, not Eternal Truth or Tradition- what beliefs remain good for our church today, and which, while meaningful long ago, might be jettisoned, for no longer helping people?

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Hunger pains…

2011-09-29T16:34:00.001-07:00

Jesus spoke much, according to the Gospels, about fasting. He said, “When you fast, don’t walk about dirty and disheveled, seeking others’ praise. Rather, clean up! Put on a good face. And your Divine Parent, who sees in secret, will reward your faithfulness.” Similar instructions appear in elsewhere, counseling his disciples about this unique spiritual practice. But one thing Jesus never says is how to actually fast.

“Simple, Preacher. Just don’t eat!” Sure, whatever, but I’ve still got many questions. How long should I fast for? Can I have water? Tea? Juice? What if I’m a manual laborer, or how about pregnant women? Notice that in his teachings, Jesus takes for granted: a) That his disciples actually intend to fast, and b) They know what it involves. Apparently, such behavior was routine back then; like a cultural warehouse of fasting wisdom had developed, to which everyone had access.

But times change. And I doubt most American Christians have ever intentionally fasted. Our question for Christ wouldn’t be, “How can I glean greater spiritual benefit from my fasts?” Rather, we’d cry, “Seriously, Jesus? You want me to do what?!”

Scholars have long debated the evolution of fasting. Perhaps some poor hovel, one day long lost to memory, had a thin Autumn harvest. There wasn’t enough food for the village, this argument goes, so to conserve what they had, everyone abstained for ‘spiritual reasons’ on a weekly basis. Or maybe pious ancient migrants, traveling far with limited storage, occasionally limited their caloric intake, calling it prayer for traveling mercies, and the practice was handed down.

Who knows? What I can testify to, however, is that it’s a spiritually enriching experience. We talk sometimes about sacrificing for God, and typically mean giving money, or using our time and talents to help others. But causing our tummies to grumble in hunger? Sounds strange, right? Well, it’s not! If you’re healthy enough, that is, or don’t have strenuous labor to perform, occasionally battling through hunger pains focuses the mind on God’s grace. Like a school bell ringing hourly, telling students class is starting, when your empty stomach complains while fasting, it whispers constant reminders. “From whence does real sustenance come,” it can query. “Do you thank God enough for your daily bread?”

Of course, another reason people fast is to act in solidarity with the world’s poor and hungry. Having enough to eat daily, indeed, having the option to fast intentionally, is a great and wondrous blessing, which we should never forget. Nor should we allow that privilege to close our eyes to those who go without. Jesus, in fact, preached as much about the evil of hunger as basically anything else. As such, his spiritual ancestors ought regularly seek to ‘share the feast.’ And, as it happens, this month Plymouth Creek will do exactly that.
As you know, every year we walk in the CROP Walk, having fun and raising funds for hungry folk in our neighborhoods and throughout the world. This October 9, we’ll do that again. So I encourage you- a) To walk!, and/or b) Give to those who do. Talk to me or Chana Weaver with any questions.

But I wonder if this year, we might take another step…Will you fast with me for the 2011 CROP Walk? Not the day itself; that’d be unwise. But how about the day before, October 8? I’m imaging that as many who can (and if there’s any question whether you’re in good enough health to fast, don’t, or ask your doctor) avoid food all day Saturday. And at church, before service, we’ll have break-fast food and juice available. If that sounds intriguing, do a little research into the ‘how-tos’ of fasting, or ask me. You needn’t even tell others you’re doing it, although God will surely smile. While you’re at it, use that day to pray for yourself, your family, your church and especially those who hunger throughout the world. It’d be best, of course, if we didn’t have to walk, if everyone had enough already. In the meantime, thanks for following Jesus’ Way, and loving God’s Children enough to share your daily bread.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Pyramids of service…

2011-09-22T10:20:00.001-07:00

At a recent Servant Leaders meeting, we discussed an idea that I ‘borrowed’ from Woodridge Church’s Minister of Outreach. It’s a model for enriching our Christian faith, she claims, by deepening our commitment to service. Particularly, it helps churches help worshippers incorporate such ‘other-mindedness’ into their typical day-to-day. Not a bad mission, I thought…

Anyway, the Woodridge minister gave me a chart describing what I call a ‘Pyramid of Service.’ Level one- i.e. the first steps on the pyramid- are one-time, easy acts of service with little to no follow up. Serving food at a homeless shelter, packing meals for Feed My Starving Children, helping an elderly neighbor clear out gutters in the fall- all these are wonderful, simple activities. At PCCC, we’ve done many before, and this autumn will offer more such opportunities. On October 9, we’ll do the Minneapolis CROP Walk together; a fun afternoon for which we raise money to combat local and global hunger. In November, we’ll do something similar for IOCP- the Sleep Out- an enjoyable evening fundraiser (in a cardboard box!) for housing and homelessness in the NW suburbs. I hope you’ll join me in these and other acts of service.

Level two gets a bit involved. This is when you commit to an ongoing service project, or provide leadership to organizing level one events. For instance- those who make the Sleep Out happen have increased their service engagement; those who regularly drive the Sunday morning bus share a similar dedication. In coming months, we’ll add another ‘Level Two’ opportunity at PCCC. We’ve committed to partnering with St. Barnabas on the first Wednesday evening of every month to provide IOCP with volunteers for their food shelf and thrift store operations. Once a month, couple hours in the evening, serving neighbors in need of food and clothing. Not a bad regular activity to practice your faith, I believe! If you want to help out, let me know.

Level three, needless to say, goes deeper still. It’s when you focus your energies and undertake greater responsibilities for the well-being of folk in need. I have difficulty defining this ‘level’ as clearly as others. Certainly, longevity matters- keeping a ministry like Sleep Out, CROP Walk, church choir, the Community Garden operating year after year come to mind. As does becoming a mentor for at risk youth; opening your home to a family or single mother in need. PCCCers display level three-like service to God’s Kingdom in many different ways already. But if you’re aching to go deeper, yet are having trouble deciding where your efforts would be used best, please call; we’ll grab coffee! I like few things better then helping folk enrich their faith/life through service.

As you can tell, I found this model useful for thinking about service, especially since our vision is “To become a beacon of openness and service in the NW suburbs.” The SL Team did too, although we noticed that it’s not as simple as moving up the pyramid like you would climb a ladder. Sometimes, it’s helpful to ‘take a step back,’ unload some responsibilities so you can rest or be more effective in other pursuits. Other times, it’s imperative to stretch yourself, launch into unknown waters, trust God will carry you through. Further, you can have a deep, abiding commitment to one ministry at church or in the community, while still participating in the CROP Walk or attending monthly service nights. We can be on several levels at once; the key is cultivating a desire to serve!

So if you’ve never done much service, we’ve organized opportunities to get your feet wet. If you’re wanting more, but are unsure of your time or energy level, we’ve got that covered too through ongoing, lower-risk projects. And if you’re searching for a ‘calling,’ or particular venue to make a lasting difference, PCCC will help you discern that path with God’s help. Mostly, though, I hope you know how grateful I remain for all the acts and lives of service you lead already! May we use that service and compassion together to reach out to many others, and shine a brighter, bolder light of love.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Letter from our Pastoral Intern

2011-09-15T09:32:00.001-07:00

I love dirt. Wait. I mean, outdoors. Yeah. Being outside. Sifting dirt through my hands. Not gardening, just thinking. I like to feel connected to the earth, to the air, to the creatures I find in the dirt… but I love water. I need water. Water… for the dirt… hmmmm.

I grew up on a farm in the heart of the Red River Valley. My father was a grain farmer, later farming soybeans and sunflowers, but mostly wheat and barley. We had alfalfa fields we cut for hay to feed our horses. We raised Arabians. Fall season’s trail rides in the sand hills of North Dakota remain some of my most treasured memories.

I grew up in the Lutheran church—American Lutheran, now ELCA, in my small eastern ND town 20 miles west of Fargo. My maternal grandmother helped found that church. I was born with music and born into the church. The Sunday school director had a vision for the formation of future church musicians. As a 4th grader, I began playing hymns for the adult Sunday school opening. We would sing the same 2 or 3 hymns for at least a month until I was ready to move on to a new one. “Breathe on Me, Breath of God” was one of my first favorites. Key of F with just one flat and a simple chord progression.

I was in 10th grade on the very first Earth Day, and the military draft was very much on the minds of many, calling older schoolmates to war in Vietnam. We formed an inter-faith youth coalition to “rap” about war, zero-population, world hunger and peaceful resistance.

After college, Jim and I taught public school music for a year before going to a missionary training school in Bloomington, MN. We were with a missionary group for 13 years, and during that time spent a year in Ivory Coast, West Africa, then 6 years in France, with time in Bible school and home mission. We lived communally under a theological structure that was fundamental and patriarchal. I learned to distrust my own relationship with God and worked diligently to suppress what was surely a rebellious and unsanctified heart. Along the way I lost my passion for people, my creativity and my self.

In the mission field, I asked too many questions and challenged too many people and precepts of authority. We came home. I fell apart. We began to live life in Minnesota and raise our children in a smaller place, but had become sensitive to a larger world. I began to work on shredding, then piecing my faith back together. My adventure changed from traveling the world in order to “win souls” (as if I were one who ever could) to living life in a way that I respected, even loved how I was wired.

For the next 15 years I was part of a study group that helped me rediscover my self. One book we studied was Parker Palmer’s “Let Your Life Speak—Listening to the Voice of Vocation” where the reader is challenged to find that first deep joy. My memory, pre-verbal, was of sifting warm earth through my hands, watching the wind create waves in the green-blue wheat fields on the prairie. I felt an awareness and relationship with God in and beyond the nature that surrounded me. By expressing that I love dirt, water and air I open a pathway to layers of meaning above, below and beyond that first thought.

The beauty I experienced was of the power and provision of Love. Music fed my soul, and ritual linked me with my family of origin and of faith. I am a teacher. I am “wired” to create space for people to discover their authentic self and to allow themselves to be loved by God and grow in relationships—human and Divine. Music and theology—art and theology—have always been my inner dialogue partners.

I thought I myself had exhausted the possibility of acting on the dream to explore music and art from a deeper theological perspective, and that it would have to be enough to create that space for my children. But my dear friends challenged me to envision it for myself: First with gentle nudging, finally bluntly telling me outright to stop whining, at least apply to seminary and then see what would happen.

Here I am. Three years have passed. I am astonished to be midway into my MDIV and that it is already time to do internship. We will explore ways of imagining and expressing God’s great love for each of us and for the world. Thank you for opening your doors to me as I open my heart to who I am, to who you are and who we are together.

Lynda Lee

Pastoral Intern, Plymouth Creek Christian Church

Fall…

2011-09-08T09:48:00.000-07:00

For professional football fans, August is typically a strange time. On the one hand, we’re bored. We’ve endured months of Sundays free of our beloved competition. We’ve memorized countless articles analyzing the prospects of our favorite teams. But by August, everything worthwhile has been said. Thrice. Thus, without actual games, we’re parched for novelty.

On the other hand, a whiff of newness arrives: training camp and preseason games. And to some, that’s very exciting. But to me and many, it’s a mirage in a desert, a stick-with-no-food at the State Fair. The games aren’t meaningful competition, just another excuse to rehash stale story lines. Aka, boredom with manufactured excitement. As I said, August is a strange time for NFL followers.

This August, however, was different. Many of us fans spent summer months arguing and analyzing, as football fans do, though it was about the NFL lockout, not the actual sport. But- glory be- that ended; the NFL opened for business. So this August, football fans had mere weeks to dream, despair and fantasize as fervently about the coming season as it usually takes us six months to accomplish. Boredom was not our challenge. Stamina for the month-long sprint was. And while that made August strange in a new way, it was refreshing.

I’ve often thought church folk have August lulls like football fans. It’s been months since our last great holiday; months until our next. Sunday School and choir took a hiatus way back in June. Friends, even the pastor, miss multiple Sundays- different ones than those we miss- so the typical ‘normal’ feels slightly askew. Some churchgoers even admit (rarely to the pastor!) that summer can feel a bit…boring. Although this August, with Baptisms, house moves, dedications and garden harvests, wasn’t as typical as many I’ve experienced.

Nevertheless, for gridiron and God fans…September has arrived! NFL competition begins in earnest September 8. Many churches plan “Rally Days” for when Sunday School activities get moving the following Sunday. The choir might even wear robes, once they reform (probably not, but their singing will be appreciated!). And it’s like the cycle has renewed, normalcy returns, plans become activities become memories and results.

And the question becomes- How has the summer prepared us? In football, the answer’s obvious. Either you strain a muscle or you don’t. Your team achieves more victories or they disappoint. Pretty quickly, the discerning fan learns whether her team’s offseason time was productive time. Whether all those dreams and arguments she’s been producing were intelligent or…wishful.

The analogy isn’t so clear for churches, though. How do you prepare spiritually for the return of the ‘Program Year’ (as some call it) or for, well, anything?! Prior to training camp, athletes lift more weights, memorize new playbooks, have corrective surgeries and the like. Christians, I guess, can read the Bible, pray at bedtime, practice compassion when neighbors in need come calling. But those are things we do whether Sunday School is meeting or not. Yes, the ‘neighbor’ in question might be at your summer cabin or on a family trip. The actions, though, don’t change; we don’t get a break from love.

But maybe there are points of relevant comparison. Taking time to rest and relax always does a body and spirit good. Also, Fall and Spring are times when churches most typically see visitors ‘checking them out.’ How we respond to these guests- with invigorated welcome or halfhearted yawns- might say something about how we’ve used the summer. SS teachers and choir directors obviously plan lessons and performances. But anyone can come to the Table with a fresh perspective or fun idea, a challenging project or prophetic thought. When folk were out doing the summer thing, maybe those weren’t as ripe for sharing. Now, though, a new season having begun, perhaps it’s time to call me up and add something to our church life together.

Whatever the case, I look forward to this new season- football, but especially church! And I hope you’re getting ready too. Plymouth Creek Sundays won’t feature the bone-crushing entertainment of our gridiron heroes, but I pray it’ll prove more exciting and …healthy over the long-term.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Early childhood…

2011-09-01T07:04:00.000-07:00

Do you remember the first book you had read to you? My answer: “I haven’t the slightest clue!” The earliest book I can remember, though, remains a favorite: The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.

We didn’t own it at my house, mind you. I only encountered this Dr. Seuss classic each winter when Mom and Dad would drive sisters and me to grandma’s house near Chicago. There, Grandma Ray would read us The Grinch, seemingly every time we asked (i.e. every day ending in –y). In part, that was the classic “see how late we can stay up by having grandma read multiple bedtime stories” strategy. But mostly, we loved the book, and especially the sound of Grandma’s voice as she inflected and soothed, entertained and taught. Suffice to say, my grandkids will encounter The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, and I hope they love it as much as I!

It turns out that my early childhood experience was lucky. From early on, I recall understanding how books worked, how to turn the pages, etc. Not just Grandma, but my parents and others had taught me- before I could make conscious memories- that reading and stories were worthwhile pursuits. My wife would tell you that maybe they did the job too well, that I spend too much time reading now! But as a researcher of early childhood education, she’ll also tell you that giving young kids the gift of reading is as good a gift as any.

Did you know that some children enter kindergarten having no idea what a book is, or how to use one? Coming from my home, that would’ve been impossible. But why would you, at age 5, if your parent(s) didn’t value reading, or were always working, or were illiterate, or couldn’t afford books…?

Did you further know that the most significant predictor of a child’s future success (after the predictable big two- Race and Family Income) is the number of books present in a child’s home? When Tabitha told me that, it blew my mind. Of all the educational investments we make, whether a family has a book, bookshelf or library of books for children ages 1-5 matters the most. Of course, it’s not just the books. It’s what they represent- respect for education, capacity to buy books, stability in housing. Still, reading to kids has an outsized impact on their future, well before they can read themselves.

One role I play on behalf of Plymouth Creek is to serve on the Advisory Council for IOCP’s Caring for Kids Initiative. CfKI provides some low-income families that IOCP serves with affordable, quality early childhood education (and children’s books!). It’s a great program, since one important antidote for factors that weigh on a child’s potential is to give the kid great childcare. Multiple studies show how munchkins from low-income families who receive good pre-K education perform much better than their peer groups. Further, they save society anywhere from $8-15 in future costs (reduced income taxes, prison, welfare) for every $1 invested.

But great childcare is expensive! Hence, CfKI, which in a few short years has built capacity for 80 local kids to receive great childcare (the need’s about 400, so we’re getting there…). And a recent study of CfKI’s work more or less ‘proved’ its effectiveness. Pretty cool table for PCCC to sit at, amen?!

Anyway, I mention all this because CfKI has a fundraiser on Saturday, September 17 at the Hilde Center in Plymouth. Called Family Fun Night, and it should be, well, a blast. A ‘walk’ begins the event, followed by a showing of Toy Story 3. Plus Games, Music, Face Painting; a child’s perfect night out. So if you or neighborhood families want an enjoyable evening, that also supports an incredibly effective initiative for poor families in our community, stop by. More info’s available at iocp.org, or on the bulletin board at church.

And please join me in prayer for all the children in our midst. May they have love and guidance at home and elsewhere, as well as folk all around working to make their future better.

Even if that’s a simple as reading a book.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Faith matters…

2011-09-01T05:18:00.000-07:00

I use a Dell computer when writing these letters, sermons, emails, everything. It’s what I know; it works for me. Friends of mine, however, use Apple computers, and to their minds, I’m a club-wielding, Stone Age Hunter/Gatherer for not having joined them in the iWorld of Apple. With an evangelical furor that would impress Billy Graham, these adherents to the cult of Steve Jobs (God bless him in retirement) wait breathlessly whenever a new Apple product. The iPod- Revolutionary- they swooned! The iPad- Transformational! The iPhone- Iconic, a natural evolutionary extension of the human hand! And here I waste my time on PCs, alas.

A while back, however, I joined my friends in their iObsession, purchasing an iPhone to replace my previous cellular companion. And with some grudging admittance I must say that, yes, the gizmo is quite handy. Not an epoch defining leap forward, but certainly a useful tool. It plays audio books and music; it downloads email and news; its GPS function has frequently saved me from having to stop and ask directions. Maybe you recall the once-ubiquitous iPhone advertising campaign- a person says, “I want to (insert random desire here- like ‘find good local restaurants,’ or ‘play addictive, avian-inspired games’).” And the announcer says, with breezy self-confidence, “Yep. There’s an app for that.” App, of course, being the hip contraction of the word Application.

Indeed, if you’ve ever seen the vast treasure store of possible downloads for the phone, there is- usually- an app for whatever that is. This one tool can perform many a useful feat, most of which have nothing to do with telephone calls.

Well, it seems to me that, if we switch topics from gadgets to faith, modern Christians of our ilk struggle with the exact opposite issue. Ask, “Why does faith matter in your life? What are its…applications?” And you’ll get all sorts of answers. But many are halting and hesitant, or simplistic generalities. Which isn’t to say we don’t believe that faith matters. It’s just we’re cautious about making too broad a set of claims (having cringed at the hubris of less-hesitant members of Christ’s church), or feel uncertain in the ever-changing world of modernity. Our instincts, our spirits tell us that faith matters greatly, and maybe during certain life events that became blessedly obvious. In everyday conversation or living, however, many wonder, “Is there an app for faith…”

This fall, we’ll tackle this topic head on. The sermon series I’ll preach is “There’s an App for That: 10 Ways Faith Matters.” I’ve chosen a set of ten great Biblical stories, most familiar, a couple less so, each of which, I believe, highlight a particular issue or idea that puts faith into practice, that teach us why faith matters today- to us, and to God’s good Creation. Without giving away all the secrets, these applications of faith include, “The App of Serenity,” “The App of Global Community,” “The App of Impossibility.” All together, I think, we’ll see a parade of beliefs and activities that present updated reasons for living faithfully as Jesus’ Disciples. At the very least, I hope it inspires you to articulate your own thoughts about why faith matters to you.

Also, this month we’ll welcome a new addition to our ministry team. United Theological Seminary is sending us an intern- Lynda Lee- who’ll serve with us September 11 through mid-May. Lynda is currently a member of Spirit of Joy Christian Church, proud wife, mother and grandmother, accounting professional, creative devotee of exploring the arts in worship, and a thoughtful, faithful woman pursuing ordination. Many of you remember past interns, having told me good stories about their time at PCCC. As such, I believe we have much to offer Lynda in her ministerial formation. And I know we’ll receive much from her work and worship in our midst. Please make a point of being present that Sunday to welcome Lynda; tell her why this church matters to you, the difference it’s made in people’s lives already, and especially how you hope it will grow in its impact and mission. For, indeed, faith matters! There’s many an app for God’s love.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

An inside dog…

2011-08-25T15:42:00.000-07:00

One reason Tab and I recently moved was to find a fenced-in yard for Fawkes the Dog. As working puppy parents, we leave Fawkes kenneled for long stretches quite often. And if you’ve met her, you know she’s not a terribly low-key canine. When allowed, Fawkes will run and play and jump all over you until she’s exhausted. So if we don’t walk or take her to the dog park, come human bedtime she’s still rearing to go, forcing the Sand Man to wait impatiently. But if she had a backyard to run around in- we schemed- it’d be great for her, for us and courteous to said Sand Man.

Fast-forward to Fawkes’ first encounter with this new backyard. She, OMG, loved it!!! So much to sniff, so far to run; doggie heaven it appeared to her. To us, it appeared, mission accomplished. The next day, however, she ran a little less. The next day, less still. Ditto the next, until she didn’t want to be left outside anymore. She preferred to be near us indoors, as she’d been accustomed. An inside dog she’s been so far. Does that mean an inside dog she’ll remain?

Mind you, from the moment she encountered the new backyard, life’s been chaotic. We’ve shuttled back and forth from the old to new place; spent nights packing, painting, cleaning, unpacking; our patterns ended, all was strange and different. And it’ll be awhile before things return to a new normal. So I assume Fawkes has responded to these upset rhythms by going with what she knows. She’s decided that sleeping inside, staring out windows is much safer, much less anxious than venturing outdoors. After all, Mom and Dad have barely been around to ease her into the new backyard. And until then, well, do what’s familiar.

How do you teach an inside dog to make a home outside? I’m sure dog trainers have opinions on that subject. If you apply that question metaphorically to churches, I know church gurus have ideas galore! And sometimes, their strategies work.

I had soda this week with an outreach pastor at a nearby evangelical church. Good guy, strong faith, abiding commitment to Christian Unity. One thing we talked about was how different churches have different gifts. Our Catholic and Orthodox siblings, whatever their drawbacks, understand spectacle, mystery and splendor unlike any other. Mainline churches like ours, however stolid we can be, have long proved adept at putting faith into action for the betterment of society. Evangelicals, for their part, while often rigid and uncritically closed in their understandings of God, nevertheless have been outside much more than we, bringing people in, and have gotten very good at it. Their passion for helping people learn to know and receive God’s grace is a gift we’d do well to learn from.

Something my evangelical colleague mentioned that inspired me was his recent work at a trailer park in Corcoran. It’s an economically depressed place, apparently. Residents are viewed by broader society as outcast failures, if people take the time to view them at all. A place of real need, it seems, i.e. a place Jesus would care about a lot. So this guy decided, years ago, to get involved, even if at first he was hesitant to step out. First, he organized a VBS. That established relationships, which kept growing. Now, they’re bringing folk to church and are even dreaming about building a community center for the park’s residents. Might even move in himself. He described those efforts as a blending of gifts- combining the old mainline concern for social justice and blessing the poor with the evangelical fervor for building relationships and witnessing to folk about Jesus. As that happened, I reflected, he wasn’t an inside dog anymore. He’s waaay outside- his church’s walls, the safe confines of his wealthy, respectable Christian community, outside his comfort zone- but as he said, “I’ve learned so much about just how BIG God truly is. And it’s awesome!” Amen.

The Big Dog, who lives inside our hearts also, is nevertheless outside all boundaries and limits we erect. Barking at us to come join Her/Him, tail wagging mightily.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Questioning…

2011-08-18T10:17:00.000-07:00

At summer camp last week, I had a conversation with a group of high schoolers that I thought as rich and deep as any I’ve had recently. You’ll appreciate the simplicity and struggle their questions relate, and presumably, find them familiar.

It began with me asking what they thought about Communion and Jesus’ invitation to all at the Table. They wondered, “Just who does deserve to come to the Table? Have I earned a place? Do I deserve that honor?” The conversation then turned more general, and I asked if they’d ever received a gift for no reason. That really got them going. “I was taught you’re supposed to earn what you get,” they said. “So I feel bad when someone just gives me something. I always try to make up for it, to give them something in return. Otherwise, I feel guilty.” And then, they turned that experience on God, guessing that, “If I feel this strongly about my own moral behavior, God must too. God wouldn’t throw fairness out the window when it comes to judging our actions and choices, right?” Is God all about fairness, about making sure we get what we deserve?

Sounds familiar, amen?! Not only did such questioning spark the Protestant Revolution, but they reside still in the hearts of many Christians, committed as we are to being as good as possible. It’s not always easy to be decent to others, to treat people “as we want done unto us”, especially when we’re not getting the same kindness in return. So, we may figure, the reward for it all is that at least God smiles upon us, counts us more worthy, invites us to deeper communion when we do things right.

Then I asked the students, “So does what you’re saying mean that God loves you more than God loves those who don’t act as ‘good’ as you?” Suddenly, their commitment to fairness hesitated. “Uhh, I mean, God loves everybody…God just wants us to be good.” Sure, I countered, but if you are good, do you increase in God’s sight, deserve extra helpings of divine love. “I don’t think so…God loves everybody…I think…” A tough conundrum we faced.

So I asked, “Have you ever given a gift for no reason?” And that fired them up too, although this time they weren’t so concerned about whether it was ‘fair’ or not, or if they received anything in return. In fact, the gifts they described giving felt even cooler because they were received graciously, with no expectation to ‘return the favor,’ simply a recognition this gift came from the heart. The students said, “I gave the gift simply because I loved my (friend/parent/sibling/etc.), whatever their faults. And I wanted them to know that, to feel better just because.” I found that experience also quite familiar.

And I suspect you do too. In which case, I’ll ask you the same question I asked them, “Is it possible, or even likely, that’s how God feels about us?” Put differently, why would we transfer the human experience of guilt and fairness onto God’s feelings toward humanity, rather than our joy and pleasure at giving gifts unfairly to those we love?

In case it isn’t immediately obvious, I believe the second of those options- that God thinks grace, forgiveness and overwhelming love are more important than ‘fairness’- is more likely to be correct. 1 John claims, “God is love,” and so everything else we understand about God derives from what we understand about love. Do those we love always deserve the love we shower upon them? No, but that doesn’t matter. Can we be supremely angry at someone we love without ceasing to love that person? Yes, although surely none of us would prefer that! When those we love already shower love upon us, is our response to that motivated by ‘being fair’ or simply by the love that flows between us? I suspect it’s mostly the latter.

In which case, maybe fairness isn’t so important after all. Maybe Christian life is founded on something more-than-fair, what the reformer’s called Grace, but I prefer, simply, Love. May that infiltrate your lives anew this week.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

The Table…

2011-08-11T06:05:00.000-07:00

This week’s letter comes to you from secluded woods in the midst of rolling hills brimming with waiting-to-be harvested corn. I’m at summer camp, the Christian Conference Center (CCC) in Newton, Iowa to be exact. Or for those who don’t know, it’s the camping facility owned and operated by our church’s Region, and as its entrance sign declares, it is, indeed, holy ground.

The young people whom it’s my privilege this week to watch over, play foolish games with and talk to about Jesus are seven young women and three young men, ranging from seventh grade to entering college- quite a motley crew! Yet somehow, we’re developing an impromptu and hopefully meaningful community where we can share and discover our many gifts, dreams and convictions. It’s always remarkable to me how, at camp, the normal rules for living as modern young people can suspend, however tentatively or fitfully. They’ve been trained for most of their school age years to separate themselves from others; to draw clear boundaries about what’s cool and what’s embarrassing, who’s worthwhile and who’s forgettable, what’s acceptable, hip speech and what ought remain unsaid, even if it’s what’s most true to their young, exuberant souls. They’ve seen their parents or older siblings act in similar manner, but haven’t developed yet the moral elasticity to take seemingly clear-cut behavioral rules with a grain of salt. Instead, in Middle or High School, these things appear very black and white, although trends and standards shift constantly under feet. And navigating such rocky rapids cultivates constant attentiveness and frequent anxiety for many youth.

Then, they arrive at camp. They’re told, “You’ll live with unfamiliar people for six days. They’ll become friends, we hope, however you’d normally interact at school. You’ll talk of God without shame; you’ll act goofy with gusto. And at the end, you’ll want to stay a bit longer.” This crazy set of expectations we leaders foist upon them sound crazy. Still, by the miracle God’s Spirit, it often works.

This camp has two themes. One is Equestrian, i.e. unlike most CCC summer camps they spend mornings riding horses. The second is more standard as it relates to church and God. Specifically, this year we’re exploring a concept of Potluck, imagining our lives as Christians as if we’re saddling up to a table together. It’s a powerful metaphor, stuffed with multiple avenues for reflection. What are the expected table manners? What fare does each person bring to the meal? Can you learn to eat broccoli and bean sprouts, while savoring fully the sumptuous deserts? And what’s the point of eating together in the first place?

I think the reason I love summer camp is that it acts like a living parable for the most cherished idea in my belief system. As a Disciple of Christ, I believe God’s Table is open to everyone. In worship, we say weekly that all are welcome, that Christ hosts this table and he’d never turn diners away. I can’t describe adequately the power that idea holds within my soul. Having seen too many people in too many places disregarded or dismissed, having experienced myself the pains of exclusion and derision, to know our Creator’s incarnate self- the living Lord’s own Son, Jesus- has a different, more open and, well, beautiful value system keeps me proudly following his lead. We serve all because he served all by giving all so all may live life fully. And not simply as better individuals, but live life fully together, gathered around his table. If any metaphor remains timely and needed, Christ’s Table is it.

And my campers are experiencing that, incarnating that blessed truth in this makeshift community. A couple struggle with autism. Some reside in conflicted homes. All face unique challenges so have difficulty understanding others’ differences. Still, they’re bringing what they’ve got to our potluck table, making room for others, sampling what they don’t often at home and washing it down with the overflowing cup of Christ’s love. It gives me hope, witnessing this sacred dynamic unfold, that more is possible than many assume. If they can do it, we can do it. The feast is prepared and waiting.

Grace and peace,
Shane

Transition time…

2011-08-04T09:44:00.000-07:00

I’ve written before about the Celtic concept of “thin spaces”; an idea that particular geographic locations contain more spiritual possibility than others. Ancient Celts thought manifest (everyday) reality was but a thin veil separated from divine reality. And sometimes you’d encounter someplace where that veil was routinely lifted. A dedicated worship site. A hidden glen or valley. The gravesite of a renowned leader or saint. These were ‘thin spaces,’ where gods regularly abided.

As well, the Celts suspected particular times were thinner than others. In the twilight of early evening or the haze of ending dreams, the spirit world invited humanity to commune, to seek guidance, strength or hope in the brief thinning of holy moments. Ancient Jews intuited a related respect for sacred time; commandment four in God’s Top Ten says, “Honor the Sabbath, and keep it holy,” suggesting a dedicated day of rest and worship was thin enough for God to enter in power.

But in normal life, we rarely encounter thin spaces with regularity. That’s partly our fault- our indifference to God’s guidance, our frantic pursuit of comfort, gain or security, our need for personal control and so latent distrust of God’s supervision. Another factor, however, is the elusiveness of thinness itself. I’ve been to Stonehenge in Southern England, and can easily understand how ancient peoples found that massive monument overwhelmingly sacred and set apart. But now, surrounded by highways and gift shops and teems of visitors snapping pictures, the space feels to have thickened. And in the workaday rush of bills and home improvements, even regular church attendance can fall short of the Sabbath ideal, another in a list of to-dos.

Occasionally, though, thinness forces itself upon individuals and communities. The Church Calendar of holidays, at its best, allows Christians annually to redouble our efforts to experience holy thinness. And in the long-term arc of a community’s life, another forced thinness will- or can- present itself every several years: the transition from one leader to the next.

One of the Boards on which I’m privileged to represent Plymouth Creek and MN Disciples has entered a thin space. Gary Reierson, President and CEO of the Greater Minneapolis Council of Churches for the past 22 years, has announced his retirement, effective next July. Yes, that’s a long transition. But considering his length of service and wonderfully effective leadership, it makes sense to transition deliberately. I’ve been asked to serve on the selection committee for our new CEO, along with other Board members with much greater experience in such matters. Thankfully! And in the short time we’ve been working together, I’ve gained appreciation for the opportunity before us. Critically, we’re not trying to replace Gary with Gary 2.0. Rather, we hope to reflect deeply and prayerfully on what the future holds for GMCC, and identify the leadership needs that future will demand. Will we continue to grow, or get better at a few core functions? Are there unmet community needs we’re uniquely positioned to assist with?

It seems to me that thin spaces, being so fragile, can be easily overlooked. If you’re not prepared, they rush on by. Transitions- of leadership for organizations, but also in our personal lives with new births, moves, job changes- carry that same fragility and potential. And oftentimes, what leads us to miss the chance for experiencing God’s thin space guidance is simply anxiety that we’re in transition at all. We liked where we were. Or, at least, understood it. So when something new presents itself, rather than stare boldly into that uncertain future, seeking first God’s Kingdom, we get hung up on the fact of being in transition. Alas, by the time we’re ready to move on, time has thickened.

I’ll appreciate your prayers for GMCC’s search committee. Being the largest Council of Churches in America, it’s critical we get this decision as right as possible. But also in the other transitions we all face, some large, some simple, may we have courage to encounter God in God’s fullness. Being rare moments, they might feel overwhelming, even frightening. God, however, in every situation retains a name that provides hope: Love. Which is as thick as can be!

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Openings…

2011-08-01T09:42:00.000-07:00

One thing I love about my job is the chance to represent you in the community. I believe Plymouth Creek has a wonderful, unique take on living faithfully, and sharing that with our neighbors is for me a privilege and source of pride. I hope you feel the same, often seizing your opportunities to shine as a beacon of openness and service wherever you may be. You do, right?

Anyway, one place I do so is on the Board of our friend and local social-services provider, Interfaith Outreach and Community Partners. Plymouth Creek has long supported IOCP and the good work they do of feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, loving the downtrodden and standing up for outcasts in the northwestern suburbs. Faith in action is real faith, I believe Jesus would suggest, and so when Interfaith helps struggling single moms stay in their homes, provides employment assistance to fathers without work, gives scholarships so children from low-income families can attend high quality childcare (which some claim is the #1 most effective way to sustainably combat poverty…), well, those are everyday examples of faith coming alive. And it’s something our church contributes to consistently, more generously in fact than an outside observer might expect. So on the Board I try to accurately represent your commitment to living, compassionate, generous faith. God knows, there are too many these days who need Christians of that ilk to step up and make a greater difference.

I mention that this month for two reasons. #1- To remind us again to let our faith lives be about more than belief or making ourselves feel good, but also about impacting our neighborhoods with goodness. A message we should keep before our eyes always. But more timely, and #2, I want to celebrate with you something shared at the last Board meeting; the culmination of years of hard work, courage and visionary leadership on the part of IOCP’s Board, staff and its many supporters and donors. Perhaps you’ve heard, but if not, you ought to know that this month, August 2011, IOCP will be moving. Or rather, expanding into a grand new facility on the corner of Hwy 101 and County Road 6 in Plymouth!

Long time residents tell me that the building IOCP has purchased and renovated (all thanks to the generosity of community residents, which included some of you…) was once a local grocery store. Now, it will house IOCP’s administrative offices, caseworkers, volunteers and social services (transportation assistance, housing aid, childcare scholarship program, etc.), along with an expanded food shelf more like that at their sister social service agency PRSIM, and a Resale/thrift shop open to clients and all the community (clients getting better deals). Also, within the building, some “community partners” will have offices, including the Wayzata Public Schools’ Community Ed (great if, say, an IOCP client needs GED help) and a satellite for Hennepin County Government Services. There will be other non-profits setting up shop, a community room for educational programming of interest to our cities’ residents and even a meditation room for spiritual renewal. I’m probably missing some stuff, but you get the gist. Within a few short weeks, IOCP will experience much increased capacity for effecting positive change, all with the goal of changing the odds for the most vulnerable amongst us.

If you want to celebrate this achievement with IOCP, here are dates to keep in mind- August13, staff move in, begin unpacking and organizing; August 18- IOCP will host a ‘Grand Opening’ for clients and their families; August 22- the building officially “Opens for business” (alas, to get everything ready, they’ll halt normal operations from Aug 15-19, which IOCP is prepping clients for); and finally, on September 8, from 4:30-6:30 PM, IOCP will host a ‘Grand Opening’ for the entire community to come and see this monumental success we’ve helped make happen. I’ll be there. I hope you will be too. But if not, please join me in prayer that day, and on all those dates, lifting thanks and praise to God who inspires us not only to believe in love, but to put love in action.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Rise to thee…

2011-07-28T06:39:00.000-07:00

Verse one of Hymn #4 in our songbook includes this lyric- “Early in the morning my song shall rise to thee.” It’s a statement of praise, a declaration that not only does God deserve our adoration, but even that such language ought cross our lips upon waking each day. When’s the last morning you sloughed off the covers, stretched out your arms and began belting praise to God?!
The role of music in the life of faith has played through my mind recently, anticipating last Sunday’s Song Sing, preparing for August’s Song Sermon Series, pondering ways our church can better shine as a beacon of openness through the music we employ in worship. And I’m struck anew by the vital place of melodies and lyrics in worshipper’s souls. Why does it seem entirely appropriate that, in a moment of exuberant gratitude for God’s grace, we’d want to do more than pray, but go further and sing? Not everyone, surely, feels that impulse. But throughout history, many Christians have associated the substance of faith with favorite songs as much as with beliefs. The carol “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” derives from words and tunes created as early as the fourth century, remembered and updated across vast expanses of space and time. Hospice Chaplains share a common experience, that when caring for a person nearing death, having sadly lost the capacity to remember her life story and family and even identity, the patient, nevertheless, will sing along if the chaplain intones, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…” And it lifts her soul.

I’m no expert on the science of the brain, but I have learned that the way we make memories is richer than, say, assuming the brain’s an empty tablet upon which we write information for safe storage. Rather, it’s this dense weave of connections passing signals back and forth, running our bodies and retaining what we learn. Certain brain locations perform specialized functions- speech, motor skills, vision- though each interacts with the others and the whole seems greater than its parts. But memories, apparently, reside throughout the system, not just one place. Thus, they abide deep, dispersed across many connections so they operate and influence behavior long before bubbling up to the surface of consciousness. And, when attached to creative or emotional experience, like music, the stability and longevity of memories strengthens, opening more pathways to affect us than without. When my grandpa was away in WWII, my then 3-year-old uncle would occasionally see a man in the grocery store who, from afar, looked like his dad. He’d shout with joy, Grandma said, run up for a hug, only to stop short once the man’s face came into focus. The emotional memory of Dad, to Uncle Walt (and to many), had a special hold on his soul, deeper than he consciously knew.

I can’t say entirely what that means. Nevertheless, it reminds me that humans are so much more than “rational animals.” John 1:1 contends, “In the beginning was the Word,” and I suspect that’s true. Although, I’d wager that the Word back then was sung.

Some Christian theologians, being rationally adept folk themselves, have imagined God as this unmoving, unfeeling Judge of all Creation. An objective observer in a subjective world. There’s something to that, perhaps, though it’s hard to square with the Bible’s stories of God feeling compassion for the vulnerable, anger at injustice, joy for reconciliation. I prefer, instead, an image of God as Jazz Musician, a constant creator with a basic plan for how things will go, but willing moment after moment to improvise; to add a little flare, a subtle correction, an exciting run of glorious notes that would make Louis Armstrong nod with respect. That means God not only watches what happens, but delights in what happens, when we work with God to add ‘notes’ of beauty and goodness to the whole composition. It may even explain why singing our faith, claiming our place in the choir along with all God’s creatures, feels so intuitively right. Even if all we do is clap our hands, or paws, or anything we got. Early in the morning, or whenever!

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Heating up…

2011-07-21T08:51:00.000-07:00

Have you ever pondered the similarities between spirituality and summer weather?

Me neither. The two are not, let’s say, obviously comparable. But since Minnesota’s done its darndest in recent days to imitate a sauna- and done so quite well, unfortunately- I’ve found myself praying for relief, sweating like a cold beverage and subsequently sublimating those frustrations by turning them into fodder for spiritual discovery. Call it a Church-Nerd survival technique.

For instance, I’m sure you’ve heard before, probably said, something like, “This weather, it’s a dry heat.” Or more recently, “It’s not so much the heat as the humidity that’ll get ya.” Those sound like clichés, but they’re no less true for being well worn. The Weather Chanel app on my iPhone displays both the temperature of a given moment, as well as what the temp ‘feels like.’ So yesterday was 96 degrees technically, but with a humidity reading more natural to rain forests than high plains, it ‘felt like’ 118 degrees, according to said phone (which is ridiculous, I might add, especially when our power went out and the A/C stopped working). In other words, yes, the heat was hot, but the humidity did, in fact, get us. Or rather, and here’s what got my mind racing, not all heat is the same.

Fire, flame and heating images flare up throughout scripture, you’ll recall. God is more than once described as “a consuming fire.” The Holy Spirit, on Pentecost, descended on the Disciples like “tongues of fire.” Jesus implores us in Matthew never to light our spiritual candles and hide them under a bushel, but rather, to be “lights to the world.” Aka Christ imagines his church as a bright, burning bonfire of justice, peace and righteousness. A fiery beacon illuminating the darkness, if you will.

Even in contemporary Christian circles, the notion of being ‘on fire for God’ ignites many a spirit and worship service. I suspect the point is that living faithfully is no exercise in lukewarm, wishy-washy, get-along-to-go-along behavior. No, the ‘on fire’ Christian blazes with hope and expectation, convinced as she is that any given Sunday, Saturday or second, the glory of God hidden all around juuussst might burst forth and deliver ‘a peace that surpasses understanding.’ To God’s People, but more importantly, through God’s People, and for the good of the common good. If we’re willing to allow God’s Spirit to (w)hol(l)y light up our lives, that is.

I find that idea spiritually compelling, you might’ve guessed, since it demands greater submission to God’s purpose and giving up control to God’s love. Both ideas I’ve snuck into a sermon or several. But as this summer reminds me, not all heat is the same. One might burn with holy fire, and so warm the world. Or one might simply scorch oneself and others.

I met a preacher once whose eyes glowed with lightning and voice boomed like thunder. He was, I’m sure he’d claim, deeply spiritual and ‘on fire.’ But his words crackled with hate and exploded with judgment, leveling entire crowds of people into “Us v. Them.” As if God’s favorite activity is deciding whom to incinerate. For many Christians- like me- who believe God’s love wildly inclusive, we look at such ‘spirituality’ and recoil with disgust. Maybe we think, “Whoa! If that’s Christian spirituality, I better turn down the heat.” As if the only choice is between that, and going-along-to-get-along.

But maybe, I’ve thought recently (when I wasn’t chugging bottles of ice water), there’s more than one way to be ‘on fire’ for God. Not every flame’s purpose is to destroy, after all. Not all heat is oppressive. Indeed, I’ve known many Christians who’ve devoted themselves entirely to God’s purpose by giving generously to help the poor or spending countless hours visiting the sick. Ever seen a Christian, in Jesus’ name, stand up to a bully, declare, “God expects better,” and felt your spirit warm with admiration? I have. And I’m inspired, ignited even, by such fired-up spirituality. Notice, it’s not lukewarm, nor always even safe. But it’s the kind of heat that stokes the coals of God’s Kingdom; where, Jesus claimed, the weather’s always great.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Changing pace…

2011-07-14T08:00:00.000-07:00

I almost did something really stupid the other day. I didn’t mean to, but once it happened I thought, “Whoa! That could’ve gone horribly.” I was merging onto I-494 from Highway 100, had completed the exit’s cloverleaf loop and sped up to join traffic. Of course, there’s a long entry ramp at that point, about a mile of two separate lanes before you enter the interstate proper. Although, just before that happens, the ramp condenses to one lane.

Which meant my path was about to be blocked by a slow moving, huge truck in the right hand lane. Decision time, right? Speed up to pass the truck, or slow waaaaaaay down and get in line (and by slow, I mean it crawled long at like 35 mph, on a highway, seriously!). I quickly calculated the distance between my car and the truck, judged I could get out in front easily, then hit the gas. I judged wrong. The space remaining for me to pass was smaller than I’d guessed. But I didn’t realize that until the truck nearly collided with my passenger side. Heart racing, knowing I had no choice but to see this through, I rammed the pedal to the floor, swerved a bit and prayed.

We didn’t crash; hallelujah; no harm, no foul. But my heart kept pounding loudly, declaring, “Shane, you idiot, too close.” But praise God for quick acceleration! And one big Grrrrrrr to the truck who treated an on-ramp like a school zone.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the pace of change in our lives, and especially how that pace changes. A chat with one of you made me ponder change in the church, how fast is too fast, how slow is dangerous. An article on modern robotics lured me into daydreaming of a personal machine that will someday fold my laundry. A book I just finished (Why the West Rules…For Now: The Patterns of History, and What They Reveal about the Future by Ian Morris; stunning, epic, and weighty; don’t agree with everything, but it was well worth my time) analyzes the slow march of civilization through human history. And by slow, I mean that during the 100,000 years or so of our species, our social development, energy use, population and information sharing changed, often increased, but not very quickly. Until this last century, that is, when the pace of change changed. Or rather, exploded, beyond the ancients wildest nightmares. And as we learn more, invent and discover more, acceleration may continue…

More than one of you have expressed to me anxiety at the pace of cultural change; our most aged, wise friends having seen more lifestyle transformations in their lifetimes than any previous generation, ever. Nowadays, it feels like the world around us transforms almost biannually. And some worry we’ve accelerated fast enough to hit ‘the truck’ with devastating power, but not enough to avoid it. Certainly, in the modern world, hitting the brakes seems no longer an option.

Back in the day, religious folk assumed God or the gods controlled everything; that all sovereignty on earth was divine, and no sparrow (let alone person) could fly without Heaven’s tacit assistance. Many in this much-changed world no longer believe that, myself included. God set the rules, I suspect, but always works within them. But the ancients, though they claimed the Hand of God at work where laws of gravity or climate patterns were more appropriate, still discerned something indispensible about divine reality. In the Hebrew Bible, one name for God is “Ancient of Days,” and other religions used the same or similar appellations. The idea seems obvious; divine reality is eternal; more everlasting, in fact, than the process of change human ingenuity drives today, more everlasting even than our ever-changing ideas about God or the gods.

I find that comforting, knowing that even if our judgment fails us, if we drive too fast for our own good, or hit the brakes prematurely, the force that created and sustains this world will abide. That’s comforting, because I believe that Force’s truest name is Love. What was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Faithing…

2011-07-07T08:31:00.000-07:00

Tabitha and I spent July 4th at an off-leash dog park near Minnehaha Falls. Fawkes the Dog went with us, of course. Many of you surely know about dog parks, this strange modern phenomenon. But since I only discovered them last year, after adopting our pup, let me explain to those not in-the-know.

Dogs like to play. Love to play. Or, if your dog is like my dog, live to play! And any ole kind of playing is appreciated- chasing a tennis ball down the basement stairs, tugging a warring a rope toy shaped like a monkey, wrestling and pawing and rolling around, and getting the tummy rubbed. So hard, a dog’s life. But the Ultimate in Doggie Play, or so it is for Fawkes, is running full speed in wide-open spaces with another dog in chase. Playing with Tab and I certainly makes Fawkes happy. Playing with other dogs, though, particularly ones that want to play too (an important distinction I’ve learned…), fills a void in her canine soul that her people just can’t. So we take her to dog parks; wide-open areas (usually fenced in) near people parks where dogs can run and play together. Whoever initiated the trend was a brilliant soul, I believe. It allows my dog to do what she loves most, which in turn exhausts her, decreasing the danger of her chewing up our sofa pillows, increasing the likelihood of her sleeping early and waking late. For owners of older dogs, these last concerns aren’t as immediate. But Fawkes is still a puppy, and an energetic one, so again, to whomever invented The Dog Park: Bless you, dear soul.

Of course, my wife will tell you that my loving dog parks took awhile. I worried constantly (still do, sometimes!) about Fawkes running off, or fighting with other dogs, or hurting herself, or… Other dog owners would bring their furry friends to the park, release the leash, and then casually chat with other owners, occasionally checking in. Me? I’d avoid any conversational distractions and hover over Fawkes, mirror her every move, making certain that if any dust-up went down, I’d could immediately to step in and care for my dog, and keep her from fighting. Thus, the dog park experience, in the beginning, was more anxiety producing than enjoyable for me. Fawkes loved it, I knew, but again, it took me awhile to simply let go and trust she’d be okay.

Something I’ve written about before, and believe still, is that a good working definition of “faith” is not the oft-used “your list of beliefs” but something more active- “trust.” To have faith- in God, yourself, your family- is to trust them. Trust they’ll be there for you, not hurt you, work for your best interests and so on. But while I’ve thought a lot about our end in that equation, our building trust (i.e. faith) in God, I haven’t done the same for God’s side. How does God build trust, build faith in us?

I mean, it’s a two-way street, right? If my dog trusted me enough to come back to me when I let her off leash, but I thought she was too slow to respond and stopped trusting her enough to take her to the dog park, well, it’d turn her trust worthless. Not to mention bum her out! Does it work that way with God? Did it take God as long to trust Creation and the humans that evolved as it did for me to feel comfortable with dog parks? Or was God more like my wife, who instinctively loved the park and knew what good it would be for Fawkes, despite the potential troubles? As in many things, the answer is probably- my wife! Or rather, God just seems good at putting trust above fear, love above control, much better than me, or most of us at least.

Whatever the case, I pray this week you’ll think with me more about how God trusts God’s people. God’s faith in us. And perhaps recommit yourself to earning that trust, to making God proud again of how loving, open and compassionate a child of God you are.

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Chaos into order…

2011-07-01T10:24:00.000-07:00

My most recent reading companion is the book Empire of Liberty: A History of the Early (American) Republic, 1789-1815 by Gordon S. Wood (trivia question: In what 1990’s Oscar-winning film does a character cite that author?). I know, I’m out of school, I should develop more useful hobbies. But for this week leading up to July Fourth, the book contains some relevant info. Truly!

For instance, you maybe realized that the title’s date range corresponds to the formation period of our denomination. Not that our earliest leaders and members would’ve described it that way! When those faithful souls embarked on a new adventure in faith, the goal was abolishing denominations. “Unity is our Polar Star.”

I studied our church history in seminary, but what this book emphasizes that I’d never appreciated was the general chaos of those decades. We hear a lot in school (and political campaigns!) about the revolutionary generation- our founding mothers and fathers- their battles, their tea parties, their ax-wielding and truth-telling. But once they kicked the Red Coats back to Buckingham, the story often ends. Or skips ahead to the Wild West and Civil War. Reminds me of learning about Israel’s Exodus, singing songs of Moses and the Red Sea, reading about the wilderness sojourn and arrival in the Promised Land. But what happens next- i.e. the tough, turbulent work of creating a new nation in a new home- that was glossed over so we could play David and Goliath.

So it was in my American History classes. Turns out, though, the couple decades post-Revolutionary War were capitol C Crazy, or if you prefer, dynamic! For starters, no one had ever attempted democracy over such vast territory. Then, what little functioning government they had was being made up on the fly (independent judiciary, postal system, taxing authorities). Plus, people were pushing to expand political participation, to restrict it, to free slaves, to enslave more, to quickly settle Native American land, to slowly arrive at a just agreement (no one said, “Just leave them alone”), and everything in between. And this near-anarchy crossed into churches as well. Newer, frequently subversive, forms of worship and preaching appeared, pushing older, established (read- European) churches to adapt. Culture became more entrepreneurial and wild. Churches adapted further. It was chaos; so much so, new ways of doing church were inevitable. Enter…Disciples of Christ.

So it’s no coincidence that a (if not the) fundamental value for us is “Freedom,” right?! Not after emerging in the decades following the Revolution, and their subsequent upending of many hierarchies and traditions. Nowadays, we’re usually considered ‘Old School,’ with our hymnals, organ, lack of video screens and predictable worship patterns. We’re usually better at nurturing freethinking, diverse believing and relevant engagement with the world than most contemporary style churches. It’s not a little ironic, then, to remember the days when Disciples worship got wild and crazy.

In Genesis 1, aka The Beginning, the author paints a kind of ‘before the big bang’ picture. It’s non-scientific, obviously, but sublime and truthful nevertheless. The idea is that Earth then was a shapeless, watery void. In a word, all was chaos. But over this chaos the Spirit moved to form order, then life. Creation, therefore, requires both bedlam and guidance.

What was in the beginning, is now, as they say. Some churches prioritize chaos over order, and vice versa (we lean to the “order” side, yes?). But both are useful. Indeed, are necessary for creating new things. Over our national and denominational history, we’ve seen periods of disruption and periods of formation, times of strife and disunion and times of reconciliation and progress. So next week, as we ponder and celebrate that national history, take a moment to ask- What’s next (for our nation, our church, your life)? Shall I/We risk a little chaos? Is it time, instead, to pick up pieces and build anew? What went on before that needs conserving? What gets in the way of Me/Us following God’s call? If you dare, feel free to share your answers with me! And thanks to all who’ve gone before, and continue still, to establish our freedom- religious or otherwise.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

It’s time…

2011-06-23T07:48:00.000-07:00

My landlady, this morning, walked out her door as I did mine. And, as she’s apt to do, she commented on our garden. “Time to pick those Kale greens. They look great!” I said Thanks, didn’t correct her (they’re Chard…so close enough), then went to my car chewing on the idea.

Truth is I’ve been wondering for a while whether, in fact, it’s time to pick the Chard (and in case you don’t know, Chard is a leafy, nutritious vegetable, quite tasty when sautéed). The garden store label, when we bought them, claimed they’re ready after sixty days. So since we planted early May, I expected to wait a few more weeks. But some of the leaves have already grown rather big, and given that our dryer vent blows directly on them, I’m anxious every time I look. “Should I harvest some now, before bugs and hot air destroy them? Should I wait until they reach juuuust the right size? Shouldn’t I google “Rainbow Chard” and seek an expert opinion?” Now that my landlady has weighed in, I imagine we’ll pick a few this week. Tabitha, who likes them even more than I, will be pleased.

Those of you who garden, or have farmed are likely shaking your heads right now, thinking, “Wow Shane, you’re a rookie.” And yes, I basically am, it’s my second season growing food. I don’t have expert knowledge yet, nor a practiced, veteran eye. Those with greater experience probably would not a) have planted Chard beneath a dryer vent, or b) waver and worry as often as I do. When is it time? I wonder often. How will I know? I should’ve asked before, but if you have wisdom, let me know!

Fortunately, in gardening, I can find such answers quickly- ask knowledgeable friends, read expert websites. But other life situations aren’t so easy, right? I’ve heard many say recently, “Now’s a great time to buy a house!” Quickly followed by, “If it’s a good time for you, that is.” That registers because Tab and I are currently buying a home. But unlike my backyard Chard, when deciding whether “it’s time” to become homeowners, there was no obvious solution. Did many have suggestions and good wisdom? Absolutely! Did anything say, specifically, “Do x, y, then z, and you’ll eliminate all risk”? No way. Not credibly, at least! Or how about those we know retiring, or friends beginning college or careers? They’re maybe thinking, “Is this the right moment, the right major, the best next step?” “Is it time to go forward or time to stay put?” How will I know?

I’ve been thinking this week about Jacob- he of Genesis 25-50- since this Sunday’s sermon is a story from his life. One night, you may recall (and this isn’t the sermon, fyi!), he stood at a crossroad waiting for what promised to be a difficult, eventful morning. A man approached and attacked Jacob. So they wrestled. But Jacob soon realized the stranger was an angel…or maybe God. Jacob says, “I won’t let you go until you bless me.” Bold, amen?! The godperson busts Jacob’s hip, changes his name to Israel, and says, “There. You’re blessed.”

Elusive story, but I find hope in the idea that wrestling with something, with God even, can take the form of blessing. When it comes to harvesting Chard, the comparison’s overdramatic. But other situations, meaningful situations, can feel exactly like wrestling. Unfortunately, sometimes, I’ve felt pressure to not wrestle, to make big decisions quick and clean. “Don’t have a 17-point plan for the future?! Why not?!” Answer: Because it matters and it’s complex and we want to get it right. I’ve met those who think (pretend?) such stuff is easy, who don’t understand my struggling, but it’s nice that God does. That God, even, will wrestle with us- challenge us to focus on what’s good and not what’s easy, push us to risk more than we think we’re capable of- offers peace during times we’re confused, worried or scared. For when we do take that step, whatever it may be, we’ll be confident the Lord’s with us, fighting for blessings for all involved.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

In your bones…

2011-06-16T11:28:00.000-07:00

I woke up each morning last week greeted by the faint ripples and peaceful rhythms of a narrow lake surrounded by forest. At the edges of St. John’s University, guarded mostly from sight, a simple series of bunkhouses and common rooms called the Collegeville Institute provides writers secluded rehearsal space to craft metaphors, fine tune sentences and magnify their souls. As you know, the Institute invited me and another ten young clergy to work and write together for the week, under the practiced pen of a fine instructor. So, immersed in verbs and nature, not dorm rooms or pep band camp (though we heard them practicing…), I created and I struggled, hoping somehow to write something my colleagues would enjoy, and our teacher wouldn’t demolish!

Mostly, I think that happened, although one or two of my efforts were not, well, ready for print. But I’m confident I return having grasped the basic thrust of the workshop- Words with rhythm are words that sing. Let me explain. Some of you, I’m sure, know about power verbs and controlling metaphors, free modifiers and balanced sentences. They’re all new to me, however, these technical tricks of the trade. Previously, I just wrote, whatever came to mind, imagining how someone might speak the words, how folk might hear them, whether my wife would respond (as she’s rightly done before), “It’s nice Honey, what- exactly- is your point?” But I learned this week that more than words a good sentence makes. The order they receive, the patterns they produce, the movement of metaphor to subject or idea to application, all can work for the writer or against the writer. Our choice.

And particularly important, the teacher taught, is paying close attention to the flow of words, the sequence of syllables, the internal rhythms. For these rhythms help readers hear the emotional content of one’s writings, the unwritten reasons, all the while burrowing into the soul and memory, leaving more lasting, even transformative impressions. Would you remember, word for word, “It’s important to distinguish carefully between fiscal allegiance to the political realm, and whether, or how much, it conflicts with God’s sovereignty?” Didn’t think so. But I suspect you recollect Jesus’ original balanced sentence: “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s; give to God what is God’s.” Rhythm matters.

So we worked with writing rhythms all week, producing page after jumbled page with one goal in mind: storing those rhythms in our writing souls, imbedding them in our bones. The marrow of good writing, you might say, is the rhythm of its words. Which, if true, makes me think that good Christian living and good writing have something in common.

You’ve spent time in the woods before, right? Lounging beside a blissful lake, hiking a robust forest trail. Likely, you breathed deeper on those days, saw clearer, felt better. Maybe you seemed closer to God. Many, myself included, experience that in nature. We discern, if ever so slightly, those nearly hidden rhythms of life, the ones we normally rush past or crowd out, the beats of God’s heart, the subtle stops and starts of Creation. Beneath the winding rivers and buzzing bees, we hear the Spirit whisper or sing, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” And it always delivers peace. Maybe nature doesn’t do that for you. Perhaps a powerful song, beautiful prayer, time spent serving the poor or even a well-delivered sermon (!), perhaps these are what salve your soul, what reveal to you the rhythms of God’s heart, keeping the universe in time.

Whatever gets you there (and I trust something does!), it’s critical for good Christian living to not just enjoy those moments and hope to return, one day. Rather, we seek out such places, such divine concert halls, to learn the rhythms, to memorize the beats, and to make them our own. The marrow of good Christian living, you might say, is the rhythm of God’s words. Hearing, then recreating the cadence of God’s beating heart.

May you have ears to hear this week. May you love God and God’s Creation in return!

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Just do it…

2011-06-09T07:27:00.000-07:00

It’s NBA Finals season, for those who remain professional basketball fans. I think that number’s been declining since my teens; the heyday of Nike shoe icon Michael Jordan. Back then, I watched as many Chicago Bulls and Denver Nuggets games as possible. I even got to see “His Airness” in person once. He scored 39 points, decimating the hometown squad, but we didn’t care. We were in the presence of greatness, and we knew it. Since then, however, it seems the popularity of professional b-ball has waned, while NFL football has waxed like a candle on Christmas Eve. Nonetheless, I’ve watched a few playoff games this year, and am enjoying the final 7-game series. I don’t care much about the two teams competing- Dallas and Miami- but it brings me back to when the sport occupied a precious place in my heart.

I even used a sentence from Michael Jordan’s book as my ‘Senior Quote’ in the 12th grade yearbook. It read, “I can accept failure; I can’t accept not trying.” Easy words (and yes, for you grammar sticklers, a classic example of poor writing- double negatives being confusing and all) from someone who ended his career as the unqualified best. But even for us mere mortals, I think that idea applies. No one reading this, I’m certain, has succeeded at every venture they’ve attempted. You’ve likely went after many things for which success was far from assured. Still, you ‘just did it’ anyway. You tried, whatever the odds. And I’d bet there’ve been times- the best of times, as it were- things actually worked out!

I’ve pondered Jordan’s words a lot recently, anticipating this week in particular. As you may recall, I’m spending the week at St. Johns, having been selected to participate in a writing workshop for young clergy. Thus, all week, I’ll attend classes on metaphors and sentence structure and then, in the evenings, put those lessons into practice. A professional writer and writing teacher will be our guide, as well as our editor. I expect to see much red ink on what I give to her for judgment! But hopefully, I’ll come out the other side with greater grammatical refinement and increased authorial confidence. All in a tranquil, holy setting in the forests of Middle Minnesota.

I love writing. Probably an un-shocking revelation. But ask anyone who’s received an email from me. “Shane,” they’d say, “Sure seems to have lots to say…” Or, if you prefer, I’m long-winded; something I will concentrate on this week. Notwithstanding, it’s a special joy for me, most weeks, to sit at my laptop and hammer away at the keys, composing these letters or Sunday sermons with as much creativity and power as I can muster. That my job allows me this freedom is a great blessing. And yet, as much writing as I do, it took a long time for me to admit my love for it. Claiming to be ‘a writer’, or to even want to become one, felt pretentious somehow, or waaaaay over stating the case. I’d love, someday, to write books- or something- but haven’t had the courage or knowledge or skill set or…to try. Even applying for this workshop felt strange; as if that meant believing in something about myself that I had no right to believe. But when the opportunity arose, I eventually admitted I wanted to take a shot. I also remembered your collective encouragement and so ‘just did it.’ If I don’t say it enough, Thank You!

And who knows? Maybe I won’t enjoy this week. Or maybe I’ll learn I don’t have what it takes and will ‘be cured of the bug.’ But I hope not. I hope I’ll build more skills, discover even greater passion for the task and will return better at my job by being more confident and guided in this activity I love. The point is you never learn if you can succeed if you don’t risk failure. And in true ‘Air Jordan’ fashion, I’ve finally ruled out not trying.

So tell me, what is it you want to just do? I pray you’ll do it!

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Good God…

2011-06-02T16:34:00.000-07:00

“God is good!” I often open the service with that phrase. It’s part one of a call-and-response used in many African-American churches, and the right reply, you know, is, “All the time!”

Many folk in recent weeks, I suspect, have questioned that goodness. Maybe wondered whether God’s good some of the time, but takes days off. Life, after all, can be terribly tragic. Just ask friends in North Minneapolis or Joplin, Missouri who’ve watched homes and lives destroyed by devastating tornados. God is good? Really…

I realize it’d be foolish to assume we could, in this letter, adequately address that concern. Humans have sought to understand, from time immemorial, why bad things happen to good people, or- to put it simply- “Why me?” No final answer’s been given yet. My words won’t end debate. Our world is both fragile and wonderful, hostile and lovely. So it will ever be.

That’s not to say, however, that humans haven’t found ways to cope. For instance, I personally believe yes, God is good all the time, and no tornado can change that. And that belief resides at the core of my worldview. I accept as basic fact what 1 John 4:8 puts so elegantly, “God is love.” In my heart and soul, all things flow from that bountiful river, and when I’m feeling healthy and whole, even in the toughest of times, it delivers “peace that passes understanding.”

Wait. That idea mostly satisfies my heart and soul. There is, though, a little gnaw of doubt or incompleteness or compassion for folk in distress that causes me to sometimes double-back, to ask, “Is God’s love actually enough?” You’ll recognize my hesitation. It often accompanies a familiar question- “If God was so good, why didn’t God stop the tornado?” I’ll be honest; every answer I’ve ever explored seems not enitiiiirely like The One. Some say, “God’s got a plan. Just trust and believe.” If it were my house toppled, I’d hate that answer. Others say, “God is love. God couldn’t stop the tornado, but God won’t ever stop caring.” I like that better; it’s closest to my heart. till, it makes God seem powerless, right, like a sideline spectator who only cheers and boos our lives, and that’s weirdly dissonant with “The Creator of All.” Others say, “Accept there is no God.” Doubtful. I’ve had enough encounters with something ‘holy’ there ain’t no turning back. I have decided to follow Jesus. Come what may.

Ever read Job? Many know Job’s story- real decent guy has his world fall apart, then spends thirty-five chapters talking to his pals and complaining to God about it- but have you read those chapters? Stunning poems (some are the Bible’s oldest words, fyi), which describe the kind of courage all religious people ought to mimic. Job’s friends say, essentially, “It must be your fault things fell apart.” Job says, “No. It isn’t. And God needs to come here and account for Godself.” Calling God on the carpet…Saying, “Lord, if you’re so darn good, come tell me yourself cause all I got now is heartache, idiot friends and empty silence.” As I said, courageous!

And the good news? God shows up. Sure, the poet puts rather uncomforting words in God’s mouth. But the fact God arrives, actually gives Job an accounting, helps me, at least, abide my questions and doubts better. Like Job’s author, I think God can handle our outrage, our sense of being treated unfairly, our anger and pain. That God would attend to us, even as we suffer and storm, sounds right. That God doesn’t want us hiding our heads in the sand or turning away from God, but demanding answers to understandable, if unanswerable, questions seems appropriate. Beautiful, even. Because bottling them up, satisfying ourselves with despair or simple answers, won’t help anyone over the long run. Getting it out, though, saying, “Lord, help me believe,” is a coping strategy I’d stand behind. It won’t settle the doubts, probably. But it might help us take steps towards peace and acceptance. It helps me, at least, in light of hard events, to say God is good. And mean it.

All the time.

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Standing secure…

2011-06-01T04:00:00.000-07:00

Many of you know that Tabitha and I have begun looking at homes to buy; our first ever such purchase (Yeah!) (Yikes!). Which means we’re now occasionally taking walks through other people’s homes. There are fun parts- kitchens, living rooms, backyards; moderately-fun parts- bathrooms, closets, pantries. Then, there’s the basement. Basements (in the price range we’re considering!) don’t often have ‘fun things’ to see. Lots of concrete. Maybe an old washer and dryer. But mostly, these basements weren’t designed for, say, entertaining guests.

Still, we go to the basement in every house we look at. Why? You know- The Foundation. The first home we entered, the basement floor was cracking and brittle. Much of the house, otherwise, looked wonderful, but it’s like an underground lake was prepping to explode into the home at any moment. We won’t be making an offer. We saw other houses with foundation questions, some consequential, others less so. I like certain things about house shopping much more than checking the foundation, yet I know that’s what makes a building worth occupying. Or not.

Ready for the metaphor shift? Say it with me- “So it is with churches.” Our ultimate foundation, of course, is as secure as can be imagined. Christ has risen! But for every church, the unique elements that build their edifices of faith must hold together, or the entire structure could crumble. And by that, I don’t simply mean the building where they worship. I mean the stuff supporting the work and worship they do- stewardship, hospitality, administration. And in recent months, the Board (one important brick in our foundation) made changes y’all will want to know about, and perhaps weigh in on.

For one, we decided to move ahead on the Community Garden Project and with our church now the overall manager. Yes, some nearby neighbors raised concerns, and their input helped. But the overall goal of helping 40ish families grow their own food and flowers will be pursued. I pray we’ll enjoy this outreach project, build new relationships and feel proud about caring for God’s earth and others!

Second, the Board adopted two policies in recent months that focus our administration. The first was a Bus Usage Policy, addressing many issues related to this new ministry and ensuring we’re as safe as possible. The second was a Memorial Funds Usage Policy, deciding how to manage money donated in memory of loved ones who’ve passed. To make certain we’re using these gifts as intended, we decided, A) To establish an “Internal Line of Credit,” i.e. a safety net in the event we’re ever again in dire financial straits. Prayerfully, that money will never be used, but we thought it good stewardship of memorials to set aside emergency cash for very rainy days. And B) Anything above that can (and should) be used on capital improvements for the church’s ministry. This can mean hymnals, signs, new boilers or instruments. And, in the event we’re considering a non-emergency purchase above $5,000, the Board decided to ask the congregation to vote yeah or nay. Some things need general support to be effective additions to our life together. If you want to read these policies, I’ll get you a copy.

Lastly, the Board is also recommending that, at the June 26 Annual Meeting, the church modify its by-laws to change Board size and make-up. The recommended new language is in this newsletter. But here’s the cliff notes: We want to reduce Board size to six (2 new directors/year) and invest the President and Vice President with voting authority. This will make it easier to schedule meetings, have substantive conversations and vote on important issues. Further, with fewer Board Members, our collective energies can be better directed toward other ministry!

Like I said, it’s like walking through a basement- not real exciting, but vital. Indeed, that the Board takes time not simply to listen to reports, but to reflect seriously on church policy, i.e. the beams and foundation stones that make our church unique, should make us feel good. That work isn’t always amusing, but it provides vision and security that, with God’s help, will help us thrive over the long-term.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Greetings!...

2011-05-25T08:46:00.000-07:00

Ever heard about role-playing games? According to Wikipedia, these are (board, card, video) games “in which players assume the roles of characters in a fictional setting.” In high school, certain RPGS were popular among my friends. ‘Dungeons and Dragons’, which basically created the genre in the 70s, continues to be faithfully played. I’m not an expert, but from what I know, I respect the concept.

Of course, some think these games are simply for fantasy and science fiction fans. But the same basic idea is behind Murder Mystery Dinner Parties. Someone hosts a dinner. Everyone ‘pretends’ the setting is some different time or place, and dresses accordingly. All the guests are assigned ‘roles’ (i.e. “You’re a 1950s flight attendant from Georgia who’s suspicious of men with mustaches”), and they work together during and after dinner to solve a ‘crime’ that’s been committed. If I’m right, years back Plymouth Creek organized such parties in members’ homes and folk had a blast! In fact, a couple ‘kits’ are in my office closet…in case you’re itching to host…

The point is role-playing games can be fun, and even at times instructive. Indeed, I think folk can learn things about themselves- what they love, how they react to others, what they’d like to get better at- by ‘inhabiting’ the role, or life, of another, fictional person. If they’re paying attention! It reminds me of acting classes. Crying on stage, I learned, often demands that actors discover and then recall sad memories or feelings in their own lives. That self-discovery process can be tough, but can also have positive effects that outlive the part one’s playing.

A couple weeks back, you’ll recall, a group of PCCCers led a ‘workshop’ on hospitality. We’d recently overhauled the Sunday morning greeting process to better reflect our values and vision and wanted folk to see what we’ve come up with. Well, one of the tools used at the workshop was…role playing. Don’t scoff. Providing good hospitality is hard! Sure, some folk are wonderfully gifted hosts. They’re naturals at striking up good conversation and setting people at ease. These are Hospitality All-Stars, admired by all. But I’m not that way! Many Christians aren’t. Nevertheless, we’re all called to help provide ‘unconditional hospitality’ to all who’d come share Christ’s Table with us.

In other words, hospitality is a skill. That Christians can, and must, build. So to practice, we role-played; acted out common scenarios we encounter with church visitors. In one ‘scene,’ I was “John Doe,” who wanted to be as anonymous as possible. Another was a Hopeful Skeptic, still another, a Church Shopper. After all, many different folk walk into our church and we, as faithful Christians, must be prepared to provide welcome. “But Shane,” you’d say, “It’s the Greeters’ job- not mine- to welcome visitors.” I’d respond, “Not true!” Yes, our Hospitality Hosts are step #1, but everyone contributes to a culture of unconditional hospitality. You needn’t become best friends with every visitor. But welcoming others is part of our Sunday morning duties; a requirement of membership in the Body of Christ.

The question becomes, then, “What kind of hospitality are your good at?” Or even, “How can you get better?” We’ll probably host more workshops and role playing events. If you want help better imagining what visitors desire from church, or to better understand your own blessings and limitations, join in. Or do a little role playing with the Greeter at the front desk next week. Until a visitor comes in, then put that practice into action! Or simply take a moment this week to imagine yourself welcoming others to church. What do they look like? What do they want? How can you help them? After all, we’ve all visited a church before, and most likely, how warmly we were welcomed contributed hugely to whether we had a good experience or not. Indeed, if I looked deep in your heart, I bet I’d see that’s what’s at the core of your faith. God somehow convinced you that you were welcome in God’s presence, and it made all the difference.

So how are you going to do that for someone else this week?

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Carpe Diem…

2011-05-19T07:25:00.000-07:00

I had a great phone call a couple weeks back. A church member said, “Shane, I’m working on a plan with a local funeral home for my funeral, whenever it comes. Will you talk with me about it?”

YES! Absolutely! Thanks for asking!

Now please, don’t get me wrong; I don’t love morbidly dwelling on sad things. And I pray those plans we made won’t be implemented for many, many years! But this is one discussion we pastors really encourage. In fact, when asked, I pulled out a worksheet I’d got from a wise mentor that includes all manner of items for exactly that conversation. At our church in Lexington, the pastoral staff made known we’d love to chat about ‘planning for the future.’ By which we meant both the immediate term,and the final, unavoidable end.

But why?! Isn’t that…strange? Maybe, though I wish it weren’t. Again, it’s not that I wish people ill, or relish gloom and doom. I believe God’s a God of Life! That anyone focused on the hereafter misses the point of Jesus’ declaration, “Behold, the Kingdom of God is at hand (i.e. in our midst now)!” That said, while God seemingly plans for our lives to persist- in some fashion- eternally, for earthly existence, God set a finite time span. We don’t often enjoy pondering that inevitability, I hope. There’s more exciting stuff to think about. But because our lives are so precious, so limited, we should strive to make them count. Or to use another word I’ve wrote about before, we each will leave a legacy. Thus, a question we all can- should- ponder is, “What do I want my legacy to be?”

Of course, before putting too much pressure on yourself, remember that not every decision has eternal consequences. We have only the time we have. And that’s quite a bit, considering. Still, rather than avoid the topic perpetually, I bet we’d feel better about ourselves, our legacy, the lives we lead if we’ve paused to plan where we’d like to go, and how we’d like things to end. It’d probably make our days feel more seized. Yes, those plans will, invariably, need updating. Nevertheless, it’s helps to know what you’re building for so you can build as well as possible.

This Sunday, we’re being asked to bring pledge forms to church to commit a certain amount of money, time and effort for the church’s work over the next year. Thank you, again, for those gifts, for considering our ministry together a worthy investment! And remember, in a grand sense, this church is part of your legacy. The lives we impact, the souls we care for, the neighbors in need we lift up. Because you help with our expenses and initiatives, the good work Plymouth Creek does is the good work you do. In fact, something we’d cover while deciding a final plan is the people or organizations you’ve supported over time that you want to support in death also, and whether you’d made such provisions in your wills.

In other words, for all the dramatic-seeming heaviness of the idea that you’d talk with a pastor or funeral home director about your final plan, it’s really just a continuance of everyday stuff. What’re your favorite hymns? Whom do you love and want to be around? Where do you want to live? What do you spend your time and money supporting? What kind of future do you want for your family? All you ask then is, Can I do something now to make that all happen still when I’m gone? Sure, it takes a bit of courage; death is still scary, whatever we believe about God’s eternal love for us. But courage we’ve got, and a commitment to good stewardship. Which, I was reminded recently, can be extended not just during the annual pledge drive, but even to our final days, whenever they may be.

So if you want to have that conversation, call me up and we’ll chat. In the meantime, thanks for all you do now, and the love you’ll continue to share during the many years I pray we’ve left together.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Unconditional Hospitality…

2011-05-12T10:25:00.000-07:00

Last year, as we worked to identify a new vision for the church, we first spent time describing our values. We can’t grow and evolve as a community, after all, if we neglect the values that inspire and distinguish us. Besides, anything we try that conflicts with what we hold most dear will seem awkward, at best, and downright counterfeit, at worst- to visitors and ourselves. On the flip side, I believe that the more we put our values into action, the greater creativity and energy we steer into bringing our hearts’ dearest beliefs to life, the better everything our church does will be! We’ll worship with greater urgency and electricity. We’ll reach out more daringly and compassionately to our neighbors. Families will see with clarity the great value of raising kids in our midst; teaching children the values that seem so natural, motivating, life-giving to Plymouth Creekers. In short, every house needs a solid foundation. So as we pursue God’s Vision for our future together- becoming a beacon of Christian openness and service in the NW suburbs- we’ll need to keep our values central, alive and relevant.

Well, one PCCC value that I consider a great strength of our church (and it’ll grow greater, the more we let it shape all our thoughts and activities), is unconditional hospitality. Ever attend a church that didn’t let you take communion? Ever encountered a club where someone said, “We’re closed to people like you”? Ever walked into a party and read the thought in many people’s eyes, “What’s s/he doing here?” Not a great feeling, right? It’s a fact of life that we can’t include everyone into our inner circle of loved ones. But it’s also a fact of Jesus’ resurrected life (so we believe) that he’d like to do so, and thus invites all to come to him. I.e. At PCCC, we don’t put conditions on whether a person’s ‘qualified’ for our hospitality. Whomever you are, wherever you come from, there’s room for you at Christ’s table in our midst!
Of course, we can believe that to the depths of our hearts. But unless we actively promote it, change places in our work and worship where that message isn’t coming through, then folk won’t know. We’ll have this wonderful strength- our deep valuing of unconditional hospitality- that gets whispered rather than SHOUTED OUT! Indeed, until each visitor leaves saying, “Whatever else this church does, they’re really hospitable- to me, to EVERYONE- it seems…”, then we have more work to do.

So on Sunday, May 15 for about 45 minutes after fellowship, a team that’s been working for the past three months will host a Hospitality Workshop. Basically, we looked at how we currently welcome guests and visitors on Sunday mornings. Some of it we decided was great (personal attention the moment folk walk into the Welcome Center… YES!). Some of it we realized gets in the way of our message (it’s not very hospitable when a visitor’s asked for their personal info before their name…especially in the days of identity theft and too much junk (e)mail). Then, we asked, “How can we improve our hospitality so EVERY visitor leaves knowing what PCCC values?” And through some good questioning, willingness to think outside the box and telling me to be quiet, we crafted new Welcome and Follow-Up procedures. Actually, it’s more of an outline; an experiment we think is good, but will be refined over time. To get that process started, we thought it wise to host a workshop for anyone who wants to help with Sunday morning welcoming and/or increase his/her hospitality skills. We realize this isn’t a ministry for all church members, although we each can and should contribute to a culture of unconditional hospitality. But for those who really enjoy welcoming guests and visitors (or want to, and so hope to get better!), please join us. They’ll be role playing sessions, opportunities to offer input and (knowing this group) a whole lot of fun! Most important, we’ll take another step toward making our God-sized and Inspired Vision a reality. That, I hope you’ll agree, is well worth an enjoyable pre-lunch activity!

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Unresolved conflict…

2011-05-05T08:39:00.000-07:00

      Like many of us, I was surprised to learn this morning that Osama bin Laden was dead. By the time you read this, surely we’ll have heard more details than we have now. We’ll likely have become saturated, even overwhelmed by nonstop commentary. Whatever the case, it’s been hard to think of little else today. And I’ve been most struck by one detail that hopefully doesn’t spark one of those- seemingly endless these days- rounds of conflict in the American body politic. I refer to the fact that early this morning, some chaplain or sailor aboard an American aircraft carrier laid Osama bin Laden to rest in a watery grave, after washing his body and wrapping it in a ‘traditional’ white shroud. Or at least that’s what news reports I’ve read suggest.

We may learn soon that something different happened. Assuming not, though, I find this idea remarkable. Imagine being the chaplain on board that evening, and receiving a call you’ve never imagined possible. “Chaps, you’re trained for burials at sea, yes?” “Yes.” “Christian? Islamic?” “All of the above.” “Well, brush up on your Islamic burial rituals. Osama bin Laden’s dead, and you’re doing the honors.” “What?!”

      How would you respond? Rick Warren, author of A Purpose Driven Life and mega-church pastor extraordinaire, sent a tweet of Proverbs 21:15 upon hearing the news, a kind of Biblical gloating it seems, "When justice is done, it brings joy to the righteous but terror to evildoers.” Wow. Visceral, even understandable reaction, but not exactly inspiring to the better angels of our nature. A colleague and friend posted the following on Facebook, “Kyle wishes we wouldn’t rejoice in death. So tonight I pray that one day we’ll all know and experience a peace that passes all understanding.” That’s also Biblical, quoting Philippians 4:7, and perhaps more apropos to my allegiance to the Prince of Peace. Nevertheless, with apologies to Kyle, I was filled this morning by, not rejoicing, but still real happiness. Because justice had finally caught up with a murdering man who attacked my country and sought to hold us all- children and adults- hostage to hate and fear. I’d preferred if bin Laden came quietly, alive. But since that wasn’t realistically going to happen, I’m glad he’s dead. Jesus forgive me.

      Yet for all the terror, sadness and insecurity he caused the US (and world), some military chaplain/sailor disposed of Osama bin Laden’s body with a kind of respect. Maybe it was a political act, avoiding backlash amongst some Muslim communities. Perhaps it wasn’t even as respectful as imagined by whomever gave the order. But I’ve been learning recently about Roman history. When they defeated an enemy, the body was brutally mistreated and grotesquely displayed. Whatever happened here, that didn’t happen, and I’m hopeful it was for good reasons.

Remember Jesus saying, “Love your enemies; pray for those who persecute you?” Thus, a person like Osama bin Laden, for American Christians, provides a major test. I can’t, honestly, admit to loving him much. I’m disgusted by his ideology, angered by his disregard for human dignity. His death surprisingly completes something in my heart I didn’t realize remained unresolved still. And while that feels normal, given who he was, I’m also a bit ashamed. Can’t I have forgiven by now, even though he refused to repent? That’s how God treats me, after all. Couldn’t I have proved better by not gloating in revenge, but overcoming through love? That’s who I want to be, though part of me also wishes I’d celebrated at Ground Zero.

      But mostly, I’m proud of whomever washed public enemy #1’s body, prepared it for burial “according to Islamic practice,” and prayed on the ship’s deck while it slipped into the deep blue. As his followers crashed airplanes into buildings, bin Laden surely didn’t do that. But to Christians, and many Muslims, overcoming enemies isn’t primarily about defeating them with superior strength. It’s about proving yourself more able to love, even when it’s hard. So to that nameless sailor/chaplain who prayed at bin Laden’s ‘funeral,’ assuming there is one, well done, good and faithful servant. Thanks for doing what many couldn’t.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Open Spirits, Open Minds…

2011-05-01T02:23:00.000-07:00

Let me tell you about Liz. She was the daughter of close church family friends during my childhood, and three years my elder. I remember, during youth events, Liz playing guitar, leading prayer groups and bible studies, and often helping others go deeper in faith. Liz was very cool, I thought. In fact, I first undertook church leadership roles because I wanted to learn whatever Liz seemed to know about God. Serving other youth, as she did, seemed the way to do it.

A few years later, during college, I met Mark. He was the college group minister at a local church and brilliant acapella musician. A Christian acapella musician myself, I thought Mark too was very cool. As I got more involved in that church group, Mark and I grew closer. I learned about his personal devotional habit, even joined him for a few months of reading the entire New Testament in thirty days. And I believe that because I’d spent time learning what Mark knew about God, in Spring 2002 I decided to attend seminary.

In seminary, April the first year, I attended Laura’s church. She preached with passion and brilliance, personal investment and scholarly depth. Thus, I was really impressed. I thought, “Whatever this woman knows, about church and God, I need to learn.” So I asked to be Laura’s intern the next year and, thankfully, she agreed. It was the best internship I could’ve imagined. Her example and ideas still guide my steps. In fact, I trace the root of my decision to not be a Navy chaplain or full-time theology professor, but an honest-to-goodness church pastor, to her wonderful mentorship.

Maybe you’re noticing a pattern- Times that I’ve opened my spirit further to what God was doing in my and others’ lives have led to me opening my hands wider in service and stewardship to God and God’s church. And these are just mentor/friend figures; don’t get me started on my faithful parents and amazing wife! In fact, I think that’s one familiar- maybe typical- path for Christian spiritual growth. We open our spirits to God in some increasingly sincere way. God inspires us, feeds us, challenges us, leads us. Then, suddenly, we’re opening our hearts and hands wider to others.

This month, you’ll hear more about the many ways this idea has played out in many lives besides mine. Through scripture, guest speakers, sermons, etc., Open Spirits, Open Hands will PCCC’s May Theme. Not coincidentally, during May we’ll also ask you to make pledges for the 2011-2012 budget. As you may know, our annual budget ends every May 31st, so we’ll construct a new one to discuss and approve at the yearly June congregational meeting (June 26, this year). Therefore, we’re asking you to have pledges into the church on or before May 22nd. A letter with more detail and a pledge form will be mailed soon. I’m simply planting the seed so you can begin thinking now.

As a side-note, I hope you don’t take this as reason to skip church during May! Indeed, we won’t talk just about money, but the many ways we can be constantly growing as Christians- in our knowledge and love of God, our openness to God’s always different ways, our stewardship of the time, talent, treasure and earth God’s blessed us with, our service to God and others. In other words, while we’re giving May a specific ‘stewardship’ focus, the truth is that’s not very different than what we always do. Open our spirits wider to God. Leading to further opening of our hands and lives to others. It’s kind of the rhythm of Christian living. Yes, we’ll ask you this month to put a dollar amount on that and help build next year’s budget (and if you thought last year was big, I’ve got an even greater feeling for next year!). Nevertheless, I pray that’s only one step you take during May to grow in faith by growing in service and stewardship. And while I’m at it, let me again thank you for what you already give so generously and courageously, in so many ways!

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Getting involved…

2011-04-28T14:31:00.000-07:00

Gretchen recently gave me an interesting opportunity. As you may know, she’s a big DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution) supporter, and among other civic activities, DAR offers scholarships to graduating high schoolers. One of those awards is given to someone with demonstrated passion for and intent to pursue the study of history, and apparently, Gretchen chairs the selection committee. So needing a couple folk besides herself to review applications, she told me of the project and said, “Shane, you love history.” (It’s true…I’m currently halfway through an 800-page tome on American history, 1789-1815, as well as 98 episodes into a history of Rome podcast) “Will you help us out?” I said, “Absolutely! It’d be an honor.”

So she gave me a stack of applications, and one thing that jumped out was how involved these gifted young women and men were. Yes, they’d written wonderful essays on history. As you’d expect from a merit scholarship, they had fantastic grades. But each applicant also included details about extra-curricular activities at school and in the community. And, oh my good morning, these students were b-u-s-y! Eagle scouts, athletes, amateur archeologists; volunteer hospital assistants, tutors, world peace awareness raisers. I knew collegiate competition has been rising, but didn’t realize how involved that led some students to become. I thought I did lots of stuff in high school. Compared with these youth, I was minor league…at best. Please take a moment of silence, in solidarity with their frenzied parents (taxi drivers).

Lest you think I’m complaining, however, I love how involved these students are. Sure, in some instances, it seemed over-the-top; maybe a little resume padding was going on. But mostly, I think it’s great when people- young, old or otherwise- get involved in life. Too often, it’s easy to surround ourselves with what makes us comfortable- at home, in church, etc.- and not challenge ourselves to make a greater difference, learn a new skill, build relationships with folk we’d probably never meet otherwise. I’m guilty of that sometimes; most of us are. These young folk, however, were definitely not! Rather than see the world as filled only with heartbreak and pain, and so to be guarded against at all times, they apparently saw opportunities for growth and pitching in. We should all be so bold.

All of that is a loooong way of introducing something new happening at church. For just as these students inspire me to get more involved in God’s good world, so too has someone inspired me recently to get more involved in…worship. After our quiet, simple, reflective Ash Wednesday service, someone commented, “I loved it. Even though we ‘did less’ than normal, I prayed more; I felt more involved.” This led us to talk about whether, during our normal Sunday services, we’re giving ourselves enough opportunities to connect prayerfully, reflectively, deeply with God. Do we open enough space for people to get involved in the Spirit?

I don’t know that answer, entirely. For some, like me, getting involved in the Spirit can mean more upbeat, louder music. So if you’ll notice, we’ve been recently experimenting with contemporary Praise music, alongside our typical fare. This may help younger folk- or anyone who finds energetic praise helpful to experiencing God’s love and power- see our church as welcoming to them. We’re also moving around different parts of the service (sermon, choir, Table…), trying to create and maximize reflective moments. This may help folk who enjoy quiet and calm better ponder God’s goodness and mull over the scripture, sermon, etc. I hope you’ll let me, the Servant Leaders, the Pastoral Relations or Worship Teams know what you think about these experiments. Your feedback always helps as we together seek to become a beacon for Christian openness and service in our community.

And especially, I pray you’ll make a point of getting more involved- in our worship, church life, your community, family, serving the poor. For Jesus said, in John 10:10, “I came that they may have life, life abundant.” And during this post-Easter week, just days removed from honoring Christ’s entrance into resurrected living, we’re all aware that abundant life has never been more possible!

Grace and Peace,
Shane

A charmed life…

2011-04-21T14:11:00.000-07:00

Y’all know Eric. You’ve maybe called him by a different name, but I’m sure you’ve met him. Eric was a guy in my high school who just seemed to have it all. Athletic, naturally confident, good looking, all the ladies loved him. Eric seemed to live a charmed life. Your Eric may not be named Eric, but I’m confident we’ve all met a gal or guy like that. Maybe you’re Eric.

And what was nice about Eric is he never really tossed his privilege in your face. Some do, and it’s nauseating. But Eric was kind and giving, fun-loving and friendly. Though we weren’t close, I enjoyed his presence on my soccer team. And I respected that, for as charmed a life he lived, he respected others, whatever their situation.

Speaking of which, you also know Tony, don’t you? Tony was another high school friend. But he came from a tough family, always struggled in class, constantly battled new problems, appeared frantic and socially marginalized. Certainly not Eric. Maybe you’re Tony.

And it didn’t really seem to be Tony’s fault, right? He tried hard enough. Well, sometimes tried too hard, but among problems in life, that’s as good to have as many. It’s just that life dealt Tony a hand that wouldn’t play well, and never let up. Is star-crossed the antonym of charmed? Then Tony, and many we know like him, led a star-crossed, unlucky life.

This Sunday is Easter. So we’re called again to celebrate the central mystery of our faith: Jesus of Nazareth, in some unexplainable way, rose from the grave into new life three days after his execution by Rome as an insurrectionist and blasphemer. Well, more like thirty-six hours, but it was on the third day, and that’s the tradition (i.e. don’t worry too much about the details!). Anyway, however it went down, since then the fundamental Christian task has been figuring out what this death and resurrection meant for us, the world he left behind. After all, though we know relatively little about the historical Jesus compared with, say, George Washington or Augustus Caesar, we’re quite sure that most things he did weren’t just for his own sake. He had this strange- some would say instructive- way of living always for the benefit of others…

And apparently, he had a way of dying for others too. At least, that’s the claim. So what’s the point? Glad you asked. Now, stand in line. I mean, people have asked that for millennia, right?! Many offered good ideas, some discovered great ones, others, you might say, are still waiting for inspiration. But diverse as Christian understandings about Jesus’ role in life and faith have been, often they’re in the same ballpark, one I’ve unilaterally dubbed “Grace Field.” In other words, in Jesus dying and resurrecting, God was offering something Christians call Grace.

What’s that? Again, good question, about which there’s not full agreement. Except…that it’s free. Whatever God wants to give us, thinks we need- whether you describe that as freedom from sin, eternal life, unshakable forgiveness, avoidance of Hell, constant companionship, inspiration and power to “do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God,” all/none of the above- it comes with no price. If it had a price in the first place, Jesus paid everything. God freely gives this mysterious cure-all called Grace. Take it! It’s yours!

Lucky you. Lucky us. Apparently, we’re all Erics in God’s eyes. To be honest, I feel more like a Tony many days. Wondering why I try so hard when things aren’t going right. Wondering why it seems easier for others, or if I’m just missing something critical. Even when I’m on top-of-the-world I know, “This too shall pass.” But the truth of life that every Easter we’re invited to remember, reclaim and shout “Thank you!” for at the top of our spiritual lungs is that we all can lead charmed lives. God gives Grace freely, lovingly, unconditionally. Jesus conquered death to convince us so.

May you know that in the bottom of your soul this Sunday, and carry that with you until next Easter, and the following, and…

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Disciples together…

2011-04-14T08:23:00.000-07:00

In last Sunday’s sermon, I mentioned a new direction our region’s common ministry is taking. Typically, I don’t write or speak much about regional church activities. They can seem rather...boring, honestly. Plus, we’re so distant from most regional churches, it’s hard to participate. But given the scope of recent decisions, I felt the need to say something. So bear with me; loads o’ info to follow.

#1- We’ve called a ‘settled’ Regional Minister- Rev. Bill Spangler-Dunning. You may know the name; he’s been the ‘Acting’ Regional Minister 2+ years. The previous grand poobah, Rev. Richard Guentert, had served for 20 years or so. During Richard’s final few years, Bill was Associate Regional Minister for Youth and Camping, shifting to ‘Acting’ Regional Minister once Richard retired. That was supposed to be temporary, giving us time to think more deeply about our region’s direction. In the meantime, Bill helped increase regional revenues, pay off large debts, the regional headquarters building up for sale; i.e. firmed up our fiscal foundation. He’s also pushed churches to engage deeper with the ‘new vision’ our region adopted in 2003- Disciples Together- by strengthening their mutual relationships. These activities, and the strongly positive response they elicited from folk throughout the region, impressed the regional personnel committee. They recommended dropping the ‘Acting’ designation and at the Regional Meeting last Saturday, April 10, we did just that.

To my mind, one idea of Bill’s that’s helped many trust his leadership is also one that sparked the other big change made last Saturday. Many Upper Midwest Disciples, Bill claims, were implicitly taught that “The Region” is like a hub at a tire’s center, and that local churches, while important and related, were separate from the offices and staff- The Region- in Des Moines. Bill contends, however, that The Region is nothing but the accumulation of churches and church people in the Upper Midwest. There’s no hub, he says, because The Region’s center is wherever two or three are gathered in ministry as Disciples Together. Hence, I believe, his urgency to sell the Des Moines area HQ and work from the Camp and Conference Center or in various churches. He wants to teach that no regional ministry- camp, youth programs, ordination preparation- happens unless Disciples feel inspired to work on it together.

Thus, we’ve dramatically changed the region’s structure. Gone are bi-annual Regional Assemblies and their rubber-stamping ‘business meetings.’ Instead, we’ll have annual or semi-annual “Called Gatherings,” where anyone can come, though each church can send two and only two official delegates (big churches got more voting power before), and the main point is listening to our collective ideas and passions for ministry, thus discerning what God wants us to do in common. So if our church gets excited about women’s, or youth, or puppet ministry, shares that dream with the Called Gathering and another couple churches say, “Let’s work together!” Viola- it’s a ministry of the region, until such time as that shared passion fades. Therefore, regional staff or leadership no longer decide what’s appropriate regional ministry or not. Only the sharing of passions and dreams for ministry among churches does. Inevitably, that’ll make for a messier process, but it honors our Disciples’ commitment to congregational autonomy and freedom in the Body of Christ. For truly, we believe that unity in the midst of diversity is stronger than enforced conformity.

So the first “Called Gathering” will be October 15. If you want to be a PCCC delegate, let me know (as clergy, I’m exempt). And most especially, if you feel we have a passion for ministry to share with our sister and brother DoC churches, let’s start exploring that and building partnerships now. Maybe a regional “Community Garden and Green Ministry”… In any event, it’s exciting to hear folk talk about regional ministry as a possible source of inspiration and not a drag or necessary evil. I hope you’ll take a moment to respond to me with any feedback, and maybe pray that, indeed, we’ll find new ways to be Disciples Together. After all, though doing ministry alone can be fruitful, sharing ministry is better. And nearer, I believe, to the heart of God.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Being there…

2011-04-07T14:25:00.000-07:00

Y’all likely knew that my dad’s an attorney. Not a Law and Order lawyer, who daily dazzles and charms juries in the courtroom. Rather, Dad spent most of his working hours huddled behind his desk writing patents and copyrights for inventors and entrepreneurs. I grew up telling him, “There’s no way I’m going to write as much as you when I’m older!” So much for that theory.

Anyway, like most attorneys, my father worked lots of hours. Evenings, weekends, not always, but often enough. Still, one thing he was very good at was being there for family events- dinner, soccer games, school conferences. Professionals and working parents of all varieties find striking that balance between work and being present for the family elusive, and so did Dad. But he remained committed to maintaining it, not letting work consume everything, even stayed in private practice most of his career to ensure as much family flexibility as possible. That required sacrifices both financial and professional, but being there for us was priority #1. The older I get, the more I appreciate that effort.

Last week Friday, I went to a half-day conference at Bethel Seminary on “Ministry to the Military.” Many thanks to Laurie and Tim Leonhart for telling me and encouraging me to attend! Working parents in the armed forces, of course, don’t have the flexibility my dad cultivated to ‘be present’ for significant family events. When the commander says, “Do this,” you do it! Or when the government says, “Go fight this war,” you’re gone for awhile. I learned last week that while the age of our service members remains young- the largest segment is still young men between 18 and 25- the proportion of married and parenting sailors and soldiers has risen. Currently, over 50% of America’s fighting forces are married and/or have children. In other words, one of every two deployed soldiers can’t be present for a family who is, or should be, priority #1.

That gets complicated, obviously, since many married and parenting service members are proud to serve, and many families, while sad for the person’s absence, willingly share this sacrifice for something they consider greater than themselves. But it is truly a sacrifice, regardless how proud you are of your loved one. My sister, whose husband just returned from a year in Iraq, learned this well. Not being there at a child’s birth or after a spouse is laid off or during any number of significant events drains a person’s heart. Parents beyond the military surely understand this. But I suspect there’s something unique about being absent for months, while also being potentially in harm’s way.

At the Conference, then, we talked not only about the distinctiveness military life for service members and their families, but also how churches can respond. Since the military includes less than 1% of our population, and given everything else happening around us- poverty, hunger, injustice, despair, environmental degradation- ministry to the military isn’t something every church will undertake. But I do think it’s a need all Christians are called to reflect on and perhaps be ready to respond to however they deem faithful. After all, in our faith community and neighborhoods are people affected by the stress military service and deployment puts on families. Or perhaps a woman will visit next Sunday in uniform, asking a Christian community to help her. What do you do? Well, there’re many answers to that, but my favorite they gave last Friday was, “Be there.” If given the chance, be there for a wife whose husband can’t be, for a youth whose Mommy’s in Afghanistan, for a former soldier having trouble reintegrating to civilian life. Listen more than talk. Don’t judge or react negatively. Ask to learn their stories, rather than presume you already know. Be there, be present, but in a very Christian, love-your-neighbor way. It’s not new advice, perhaps the oldest we got. But worth remembering if ever we’re called as a church to respond to such a pressing need.

In the meantime, please continue praying with me for these families, military chaplains and others who help. And- always- for peace.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Natural lighting…

2011-04-05T06:52:00.000-07:00

One great thing about our sanctuary, I hope you agree, is the height and width and quantity of its windows. Not many churches have as open a view to the world around them as Plymouth Creek. Sure, in some cases all you see are bypassing buses and potholes in the parking lot! Sometimes that world isn’t as pretty as we’d prefer. Nevertheless, these windows let in so much natural lighting the internal lights can seem redundant. We tried showing afternoon movies in the sanctuary during this year’s Cinema Sermon Series, but had to retire to the Welcome Center/Narthex. Modern projectors, apparently, can’t handle that much light.

Beyond the brightened atmosphere this lends our church, especially in contrast to other dark and heavy sanctuaries, I appreciate the design’s symbolism. At our core, this church and its denominational family celebrate the openness of Jesus to all. We believe none are barred from sharing the bread and cup of Christ’s Table. All are invited and united by God’s love, and there’s nothing we can do about it! Thus, the divisions, the fighting and animosity that seem so endemic to human life are rendered null and void in our church (when we’re being who we’re called to be, that is…). We are one, always and already, because the Alpha and Omega, God our Divine Parent loves each of us as beloved children from everlasting to everlasting. That’s true if you come to church, if you sleep in, if you drive by giving us the one-finger salute. God loves the world God created and wants desperately for us to know that and live up to its high calling. Therefore, our church didn’t build walls where windows could be. We want to shine God’s love brightly; to open our lives and hearts as widely to our neighbors as God’s already done for them, and for us. Our new church vision is “to become a beacon of Christian openness and service in the NW suburbs,” and apparently our sanctuary windows, which let natural light in while shining supernatural Light in return, are in on the project.

As is now our land, or it likely will be soon. Per the Board’s decision at March’s meeting, the church is now in discussions with the city of Plymouth to open part of our lawn as an organic community garden for our neighbors.

I think that’s super cool, as you might expect. We’ve talked about this before as a way to use our resources to care for God’s earth and serve our neighbors, all at once. But we never took the plunge due to concerns about recruiting gardeners and having sufficient volunteers to tend the gardens. Well, the city forester contacted me awhile back, offering to manage those issues if we were willing to invite Plymouth gardeners onto our property. So I consulted church leadership and our ministry partners (the Child Care Center even expressed interest in cultivating a plot of their own), responded to many questions and concerns and with as much info as possible, the Board decided it was a worthy project to try.

The goal, then, is that on or around May 15 we’ll open 30 15’ x 15’ garden plots on the west lawn for our neighbors to grow their own organic food this summer. If at season’s end, it turned out to be a horrible inconvenience, then we’ll shake hands with the city and say, “Well, we tried.” But I’m praying, even expecting, that won’t happen. I’ve seen community gardens be a wonderful ministry for enough churches around the country that I’m convinced it can be so for ours too. And besides, why should the windows get all the fun?! Why can’t we shine Christ’s light of love by our opening our land in service to our neighbors?! Some might call that a mixed metaphor, but when the soil attracts others to come and see how loving God includes caring for Creation and sharing resources to build community, that’s as bright a beacon as any halogen lamp I know. Natural lighting, indeed.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

P.S.- Happy Easter! Best day of the year, always! Come shine with us 10 AM, April 24.

Circles of Support…

2011-03-25T06:38:00.000-07:00

I probably spent more time last weekend watching college basketball than sleeping. And that’s just fine with me. It’s March Madness time, of course- the annual tournament for NCAA college basketball to which people all over the country tune in. Back in Lexington, KY, where I pastored before Plymouth and home to the University of Kentucky Wildcats, these three weekends are almost sacred. For some Wildcats followers, basketball is a religious experience with March Madness the pinnacle of worship, so to speak. I’m not that kind of fan. But I do love it and watch as many games as possible.

Anyway, I wonder if, for even non-fans, you’ve ever noticed something true about all basketball teams? The suits on the bench. To clarify lingo, “the bench” in basketball is the row of chairs on the sideline where players (who aren’t playing) and coaches sit. The suits I refer to are the inevitable grouping of gentlemen or ladies in business attire, apparently required professionally to don more stuffy garments than the sweat suits bench-sitting players prefer. These are, presumably, assistant coaches, statisticians, trainers or work-study student gofers that just like being near the team. Every team has a cadre of suits on the bench. Always the head coach, but never just the head coach.

You ever wonder exactly what the not-the-head-coach suits on the bench do? During practice, you assume the coach decides what to practice and why. During games, the coach decides substitutions or what plays to run. What else could a 14-person basketball team need for all those other suits? Apparently lots, since every team’s got them, some even exceeding the number of uniformed players.

Well, I imagine we could talk endlessly about the suits’ functions. But one in particular seems relevant to our church- their support and advisory role. The head coach, who’s ultimately responsible for strategy, training techniques, what color tie to wear, probably should never decide things alone. Gathering folk to think through problems, hear different perspectives, act as conduits for the players, probably increases the coach’s effectiveness. Maybe one or two wonderful coaches operate as lone wolves. But most of us are wired to need help!

I mention this as a (very!) rough analogy to something within our church you may not know about- The Pastoral Relations Team. In short, the PRT is a small group of folk who support and advise the pastor in her/his (my!) pastoral duties. We’ve had PRTs on and off over the years, I’m told. It took about 18 months to get one off the ground for me, and we’re still working out kinks. But a PRT’s basic goal is to listen to the joys and concerns of my job as I see them, help me and the whole church set effective time boundaries and professional expectations, and importantly, serve as another means of communication between the congregation and its pastoral leadership. Unlike suits on the bench, they rarely help teach ‘skills and strategies’! But they really help me, and I think they can help you too.

Which is why I bring this up. #1- I want you to know there’re folk to turn to (besides me) with your ideas, comments, hopes or frustrations for your pastor. They are, currently, Becky Bell, Tom Jarvi, Mike Barnes and Steve Weaver. If you have feedback, PLEASE say something so we can live together more faithfully into the wonderful call God has for us. #2- Soon, they’ll be asking for specific feedback regarding your pastoral and church priorities, so they can help me reshape time management practices, expectations and opportunities. And I didn’t want that to come out of the blue.

But mostly, I wanted you to know that this in another way our church helps me serve you in our common vision to become a beacon of Christian openness and service in the NW suburbs. We won’t get there, I believe, if I don’t have circles of support listening to me, challenging me, praying for and assessing with me, not to mention providing everyone another communication channel. For that work, I am very grateful. No lone wolves in this church! Especially not the pastor.

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Sacred spaces…

2011-03-18T06:58:00.000-07:00

Did y’all hear about our recent outing to the Hindu Temple of Minnesota? Saturday, March 12, around 10 AM, a group of PCCCers met at church, loaded into the new bus (first time for many!) and drove to this temple in Maple Grove. Another PCCC cadre awaited our arrival; a further faction of five arrived minutes later. A tour guide gathered and greeted us, and for 90 minutes we explored what is, we learned, the largest Hindu Temple in North America.

First, I want to express my deep appreciation for the hospitality we received from these sisters and brothers of a different faith. Occasionally, we hear American religious culture described as full of conflict and division. In some ways, that’s true. Many faith traditions throughout history, certainly our Christian tradition, sometimes offered stridently closed worldviews. Seeking to express sincere devotion to God or Ultimate Reality however defined, some claimed their way of comprehending spirituality was the only proper path toward salvation or enlightenment. A “My way or the Hell highway” brand of belief. But more often, I feel, in daily life faithful people of many stripes practice a humbler religion. Surveys show that, among American Christians, over 70% believe God has created multiple pathways for receiving grace and forgiveness. I.e. Jesus is a great way, but not the only way. In my heart, I cherish the open instincts of our Savior, who called any and all to more holiness, justice and truth, without quibbling over the ‘correct’ religious or cultural background. A word for that practice is hospitality, and as pastor of a church who’s named “unconditional hospitality” as a core value, I believe we found companions for our journey at the Hindu Temple, however differently they describe spiritual reality.

But certainly, Hinduism is not Christianity! So it was enriching to learn more about what feeds their souls and helps ground their families in a culture worlds away from the Indian soil where Hinduism has grown for 5,000+ years. I can’t describe everything that struck me last Saturday, but let me name one issue that felt foreign to my religious understanding, yet was surprisingly, blessedly, familiar.

As you probably know, Hindus honor many deities. There’s a ‘trinity’ of sorts, three major gods- Brahma, Shiva, Vishnu- but also a ‘monotheistic’ impulse, for they acknowledge a unifying Spirit, Brahman, supreme over all. Beyond that, though, is a vast array of gods and goddesses to whom worshippers, communities, even geographic regions give varying degrees of devotion. The MN Hindu Temple has erected shrines for 21 divinities, and as we toured the space, we saw priests and devotees move from one shrine to the next chanting scripture, performing baby dedications and other rituals, and otherwise praying for blessings depending on the particular deity’s area of responsibility, so to speak.

That’s pretty different than my belief system, obviously. But something our guide said resonated with PCCC church culture. “We each devote ourselves to one or several gods or goddesses (for whatever reason), and develop a kind of relationship with them. Over time, that fosters a deep intimacy with that deity.” Our church talks often about intimacy; indeed, “friendly, intimate community” is another core value. Sometimes, that’s shorthand for, “We’re a small church”! But more profoundly, we honor intimacy- with each other and God- because, in my opinion, intimate relationship, i.e. love, is Jesus’ main prescription for transforming our lives and world into what God intended. “Love God (completely), and your neighbor as yourself.” Put differently, intimacy matters, perhaps more than anything. In Hindu tradition, a person or community might spend decades praying to Parvati or Krishna; pleading for help, celebrating success, getting angry at her/him for not delivering, saying, “I’m sorry.” Sound familiar?! Throughout life, therefore, a sacred space of intimacy grows in the group’s or worshipper’s heart, a nexus for faith to develop, sustain and guide devotees now and into the great beyond. Though I do things differently, I too seek increased intimacy with my God- Jesus, Lord and Leader of my life- trusting that nurturing sacred spaces, in my heart and elsewhere, will produce greater love for God and all God’s children. So I pray for you.

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Let us pray…

2011-03-10T10:33:00.000-08:00

Here’s a collection of quotes from favorite prayers of mine. I’d be interested to receive yours:

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end…and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.” -Thomas Merton
“Great are you, O Lord, and exceedingly worthy of praise…You arouse us so that praising you may bring us joy, because you have made us and drawn us to yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.” -St. Augustine
“Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth.” -Jesus of Nazareth
“My Soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” -Mary, Jesus’ Mom
“Rub a dub dub, thanks for the grub.” -David, my fifth-grade friend

I could go on and on! You ever noticed how, when watching a movie or sports game, something happens on screen and you know, you just know, what they’ll say next? Two attractive people look longingly into each other’s eyes during a romantic comedy, and after a few moments of tension, inevitably, one utters, “I love you,” words jumbled with emotion. Or a running back breaks through the offensive line, runs into the open field with no one around to tackle him, so the TV announcer yells, “He could...go…all…the…way!” That doesn’t have to happen, of course. The screenwriter or football commentator could choose different responses to those situations. But those particular words have worked so well for so long for so many people they feel ingrained in our collective consciousness, a natural part of our feelings about specific circumstances. Words can even structure expectations about the future- how to judge if a new movie is original or formulaic, whether a football game is sufficiently exciting- that we repeat some phrases in our daily lives, hoping to receive ourselves what we saw on TV.

For all my appreciation of inventiveness in prayer, I think that’s how good prayers can make a great difference in our lives. The words I quoted above (most of them…!) are favorites not just because I find them pretty, but because I’ve repeated these prayers many times, allowing them to shape my spirit in what I consider more holy and faithful directions. Or that’s been the goal. I want my anxiety to find its holding pattern in the lovingly restful arms of God. I hope always to retain a fervent desire to please God, and to work for God’s Kingdom in our midst, while nevertheless being humble and content with my confusions, doubts and limitations. I want never, ever, to forget how incredible God truly is, that God is always different, always better and more magnificent. Mary was absolutely right!

But that’s not the only way prayer operates in our lives, right? A couple weeks back, I wrote about primary and secondary blessings of prayer, but couldn’t explore issues like intercessory prayer (“God, heal my mother”), contemplative prayer (e.g. repeating simple phrases for twenty minutes), prayers of lament (“My God, why have you forsaken me?!”), interfaith prayer (ever prayed with Muslims?) and more. In fact, there’s much confusion, even disagreement, about prayer’s impact on Christians- when to do it, whether to move, what’s selfish, effective, faithful or foolish. So next Wednesday, March 16, as the first in a series of Lenten conversations about difficult issues of faith, I want to discuss prayer. We’ll begin at 6 in the sanctuary, I’ll have dinner waiting, and until 6:50ish, we’ll be honest with each about prayer. I’ll bring resources from some wise souls that may be helpful. Bring your experiences, questions, convictions, doubts and willingness to learn and listen. And together, we may understand better what may be the most ancient, mysterious, profound and fundamental religious practice of all time- Prayer. How’s that for a dramatic advertisement…?!

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Trusting God…

2011-03-03T10:17:00.000-08:00

Last Tuesday, a lay leader at a wonderful Tampa church said something that spoke deeply to my soul. As you may remember, I join 40 other young adult Disciples pastors every six months for five days of prayer,
fellowship, learning, and on Wednesday, 24 hours of silence. And our sponsor, the Bethany Fellowships, pays for it! I can’t say enough about how central this routine has become to my spirit’s health, and how I appreciate your understanding of that fact.

Anyway, last week we did our typical Tuesday site visit to a local church, this one Hyde Park United Methodist, and four HPUMC members took time to tell us their stories. I was very impressed with how articulate they were about the personal impact of faith! Apparently, they’d put much thought and practice into describing why God and participating in Christian community matters to them, and how God operates in their lives. But one in particular, a mother named Mary, said something, as I mentioned, that greatly moved me. Here it is (slightly paraphrased): “I’m a reluctant leader; never really volunteered for leadership positions, but when asked, at times said yes. And I’ve found, over the years, that when I was presented with something I didn’t initially feel capable of, but then did well, my faith grew and deepened. I’ve learned from those experiences that God does truly provide. Seeing God at work in me, by helping me serve my church and its ministries, built greater trust in God, which assists in elsewhere in life.”

WOW, what an incredible description of faith! It’s not your typical ‘I have faith because I believe …’ statement, but a poignant, personal description of belief grounded in trust. Deepening her faith meant trusting more fully in the substance of her belief grounded in trust. Deepening her faith meant trusting more fully in the substance of her belief- God- not simply stating her ‘beliefs’ more passionately or more often. (Good) Theologians will tell you that’s right on the money. But what struck me most about her words was that I’ve heard asked, and asked myself many times, a related question: How does one gain greater trust in God? Sell all your possessions and give them to the poor? Maybe. Pray more often, more authentically, using fewer words? That’ll help. But I’d never thought to think of what Mary said- Take on a ministry in church you’re not entirely sure you’ll do well, and in the accomplishing of that ministry, step back to see God’s hand working. Guiding you through troubles; delivering insight when necessary. To be honest, that’s probably how I built faith in God, although I’d never said it in so many words until Mary said it for me.

Which presents us with a challenge, church, if I may be so bold. It is our Christian duty to support our sisters and brothers in faith when they step out to do ministry. Whether it’s prepping communion, singing in choir, feeding the poor, or visiting the sick, Christians should support the ministry efforts of their church family members. By ‘support,’ of course, I don’t mean rubber stamp every effort, or never give constructive criticism, or accept less than the God’s best for us. But I do think it’s true that sometimes churches undermine the efforts of leaders and members by being selfish, scared or just not thinking of how actions impacts others’ actions. And if that happens, consider the implications, to use Mary’s insight: Not only does good ministry not get done, but we hold others back from growing in faith, from trusting God more fully. Each person has ultimate responsibility for her/his faith, surely, but we can do damage to others if we’re not careful.

On the flip side, when we support Christian sisters and brothers who’ve said ‘yes’ to doing God’s ministry, we’re helping give God another chance to provide. That bears, I believe, good fruit for us and the church we love, because it deepens our community’s trust in God. I.e. it builds our collective faith. It may even inspire us to say ‘yes’ again to God ourselves. Which leads to growth in our faith, which builds the community, which inspires others… A wHoly virtuous circle. And what our church can be!

Grace and Peace,
Shane

To what end...

2011-02-24T12:54:00.000-08:00

Here is the beginning of my post.
My wife was out-of-town President’s weekend, visiting old seminary pals. So I did what I often do during such times- caught up on some reading- and finished a novel of historical fiction called “World Without End.” If you haven’t encountered this book, it’s set in England during the Middle Ages, and is the sequel to an Oprah Book Club novel, “Pillars of the Earth.” It deals with Medieval religion and politics, architecture, women’s rights, early market economies, and class issues during the horrible era of the Plague. It’s also very plot driven, i.e. challenge after challenge arises, and must be overcome. As Steve Larson put it, it’s like reading a history book, but so much more fun. I recommend it to anyone looking for a good read. Be informed, though, there’re a few, shall we say, PG-13 (at least…) scenes.

One part that that struck me was the story of two brothers- Merthin and Ralph- who take very different paths in life. Their father had been a knight, but lost his status and ‘family honor’ from debt, which changed the equation for his sons. Ralph, the younger, follows his father’s footsteps and becomes a knight. Merthin, however, wasn’t cut out for rough and tumble, so instead becomes a fabulously talented, and wealthy, builder. Being a tradesman brings lower social standing, but he doesn’t care. Ralph is ambitious enough for the family, and Merthin has other priorities anyway.

Long story short, Ralph’s pursuits lead to land, titles, prestige, but he’s does many dastardly things to get there, and ultimately ends life unhappily. Merthin, on a less ‘glorious’ path, sure, nevertheless overcomes challenges and achieves his hopes and dreams. Both professions, of course, require much hard work, discipline, years of training and practice, and either could yield a good life. But whereas Merhin directed the vigor of builder training to imaginative and productive ends, Ralph sought simply his narrow and shortsighted self-interest, foregoing any modicum of empathy and compassion.

What’s this got to do with church? Well, last week’s letter asked a question I didn’t fully answer- What are the side effects of prayer? I thought the primary effect was receiving the blessing of being directly in God’s loving presence, from which we came and to which all human endeavors move. How does that blessing, though, effect our lives over time? Are there extra benefits of prayer?

That takes me back to Ralph and Merthin’s story. Like them, we all spend time acquiring skills and talents. We work hard at being parents, students, employees, church members. We might volunteer time at favorite non-profits, or develop hobbies. But as the brothers show, getting good at something is never enough. Part of being human is choosing where to direct our efforts. The question becomes, then, what kind of human shall we be?

I presume, by caring about Christian faith, we all want to answer, “A good and faithful person.” And if I understand Jesus’ teachings correctly, he’d say ‘goodness and faithfulness’ involve empathy, concern for our neighbors. Jesus would rather see us be Merthins, not Ralphs, whether we’re builders, soldiers, or whatever. I think that’s where prayer can help. Studies of master meditators suggest that one effect of prayer is enhancing the brain’s capacity for compassion. Repeatedly prostrating oneself before a greater power helps people internalize that their lives aren’t all that’s important. Christians have long suspected this; science is beginning to show why. And sure, that doesn’t mean each prayer will ‘work,’ in the sense that God will give me the Ferrari I’ve long requested. But through weekly worship, daily prayer, even simple mealtime blessings, we discipline ourselves to acquire the skills of compassion. We direct our time and energies to learning a lifestyle of love. And this not only helps us meet others’ needs, but even provides perspective for all work we do. We become more understanding parents, grandparents and spouses, more engaged church members, our business endeavors build equity for shareholders and the common good. Can prayer alone do this? Perhaps, perhaps not. Can we get there without it? Maybe, but why turn our backs on what works? Side effects, indeed!

Grace and Peace,
Shane

You never know…

2011-02-17T09:13:00.000-08:00

We’ve all heard of things happening that, yeah, sure, whatever, it must happen somewhere, to someone- lucky gal- but it never, ever happens to me! Harrumph. Like winning the lottery. Inheriting a Caribbean island from a long-lost uncle. Getting picked for Survivor. Well, I’m proud to inform you- and please don’t take this as gloating- something like that finally happened to me!

Here’s what went down. Recently, my wife and I were on a midweek date. We’d purchased a Groupon coupon for a joint called Pizza Mia. $15 for $30 worth of food. Not too shabby, right? Anyway, there we were, talking about work, family, the incredible goings-on in Egypt and all the stuff you talk about over dinner. The waiter brought our food. We bowed our heads in thankful prayer. Food started disappearing off our plates, into our bellies, when suddenly, this random guy walked up to us. “Hi,” he said smiling, obviously another satisfied customer on his way out the door, “I just wanted to tell you how much your prayer blessed me.” “Huh. Thanks,” we said, “We’re glad!” He shook our hands and left.

Unexpected interruption, certainly, but quite nice, right? We smiled at each other, said, “How cool,” and continued our meal. As it ended, we gave the coupon to the waiter and asked for the check. But he hesitated, like he was searching for words. I thought, “How hard can it be to say, ‘Yes, I’ll get your check’…” Then it happened, that thing that never happens to me- He said, “Actually, your check has already been paid for.” “What?!” we responded, “Even the tip?!” “Yep, another customer took care of everything. Have a nice night.” I looked at Tabitha shocked. She reciprocated, then broke into a grin. “I bet I know who did that,” she said. “I bet I do too…”

I’ve heard many a people over the years pontificate about the power of prayer. Sometimes they say profound things. Sometimes it’s more about what they hope is true regarding prayer, than what’s theologically justifiable. Apparently, though, they are sometimes unintended, unexpected benefits of prayer, as my dinner check example means to illustrate. It was, of course, a completely random act; whether we said something the guy liked, or he was simply moved by witnessing two young adults with heads bowed in public, I’ll never know. I.e. God wasn’t rewarding us for a prayer well prayed! Still, have you taken time recently to consider the side effects of prayer?

I frame the question that way because we probably think the primary effects of prayer are that, well, we get what we pray for. Take my example- I prayed, “God, bless this food and the hands that prepared it, so we may be stewards of their and all your gifts.” Did God actually give that blessing? I got a reduced cost meal, but I’ve prayed that prayer many times without that result. Besides, I asked for a food blessing and got something else. Or when we pray the Lord’s Prayer, “Thy Kingdom come on earth.” Does that happen?

...Yes, I think it does. But I wonder if we’re often not expecting the answer we get. We pray, “God, bless this food,” or, “Thy Kingdom come on earth,” and while we may mean many different things by that, we should always also intend this - That we’ll feel, in our midst, even if for just that moment, God’s goodness and presence. Food being blessed, God’s Kingdom coming on earth, one way to define those prayers is that we experience- spiritually, emotionally, physically- the reality of our loving God, who wants to provide our every need. And when you ask God for those things, you intentionally put yourself in God’s presence. Meaning- You’re receiving the primary effect of your prayer as you pray. If you’re paying attention, that is.

So back to the original question, “What are the side effects of prayer?” I’ll get into that next week; space has run out! But send me your thoughts, take time to pray, and then recall that the most popular mantra (a Hindu and Buddhist prayer-like tradition) in the world is…Ohm. Which means,

Peace,
Shane

Shared experience…

2011-02-10T07:26:00.000-08:00

Last week, I heard someone suggest the following- In American culture, the last great shared cultural experience we have is the Super Bowl. Love or hate football, nevertheless the Super Bowl touches most of our lives. More than that, a majority of our culture, representing all kinds of sub-groups with little in common, will join in watching this game. The Oscars no longer draw large amounts of interested spectators. Musicians nowadays don’t gain the iconic status of previous performers. And church, well, I’m not sure that was ever a ‘broadly shared cultural experience,’ whatever we pastors tell ourselves about the ‘good ole days’! But hey, there’s still the Super Bowl, whether you care only for the commercials, or watch because “that’s the thing to do.” Indeed, it holds that much more importance in our culture because, well, nothing else unites as many people around a shared experience. Or at least that’s the theory. And if it’s true, I wonder if that says anything important about us?

It’s easy to imagine a culture in which things are different, right? For most of human history, our various societies had many shared experiences, probably because we lived so close together! When we did branch out, though, we were often united by shared systems of religious rituals, as well as languages, clothing, commerce and common cuisines. I’ve even heard historians claim that human history is the history of finding, cooking and eating food! Whatever the case, a ‘culture’ implies numerous shared experiences.

America’s a different place, though, it seems. One- we’re really big! Also, we’re not old, so we don’t have centuries of accumulated food wisdom (regionally, perhaps, but that’s different…). Plus, our nation was built by folk from other lands, who brought their foods, languages, and beliefs with them. E Pluribus Unum. In other countries, athletic events like the World Cup or Olympics consume all available cultural energy when they occur, while America still favors our version of football. Even clothing isn’t as common an American experience as elsewhere. Wait- we do have jeans- so I’ll amend the Super Bowl theory to include Levi’s!

Does that say anything about us? I’ve heard some claim it’s an example of our cultural shallowness, that America lacks the profundity of other nations, with their histories, cuisines, cathedrals and music. Call me a stubborn nationalist, but those arguments always struck me as more elitist, or jealous, than true. I wonder if, rather, that’s an expression of our cultural ease with uniqueness. Some would use the term ‘diversity,’ others might say ‘freedom,’ but whatever your preference I feel that, for better or worse, Americans celebrate, or at least value, unique people and ideas. Thus, there’s been little pressure to assimilate all the various cuisines that reached our shores. We’ve nurtured multiple musical forms (hip-hop, bluegrass, gospel, pop) to maintain their distinctiveness. Even our religions value uniqueness; there’s over 200 different American Christian denominations! Indeed, it’s no accident that our flavor, the Disciples of Christ, began on the American Frontier, committed as we are to freedom of interpretation and expression.

This comes with drawbacks, of course, like a temptation to idolize individualism, or frequent rejection of accumulated wisdom. Also, the history of American racism and segregation probably contributed much to the lack of a ‘unifying culture.’ Nevertheless, from this American’s perspective, there’s real value in the entrepreneurial instinct of our culture; it can certainly keep our religious life fresh and interesting! So perhaps it’s appropriate that attitude finds expression in a uniquely American sporting event, with all its faults and successes- watched by many people, in multiple languages, riveted by competition, repulsed by or drawn to brutality, anticipating creative commercials, often disappointed with simply another beer ad featuring slapstick humor, laughing anyway. Surely there’re more profound and transformative experiences we have available, but that a Super Bowl occupies the place it does isn’t, to my mind, a bad thing. Romans killed Christians in the Coliseum. Ancient Mesopotamians valued human sacrifices. Football looks alright, by comparison!

Or maybe I’m reading waaay too much into a game! Still, what do you think? Does the Super Bowl’s popularity say anything important about us? Would Jesus approve?

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Illumination…

2011-02-04T07:23:00.000-08:00

I spent Tuesday of this week at St. John’s College and Abby; in prayer, meditation, and working on this week’s service. As a side-note, I also sampled a homemade cookie that a cook in the Abby Guesthouse randomly offered me mid-morning. Considering it bad form to turn down such unexpected hospitality, I forwent my typical, “Sorry, I don’t like sweets.” And though I’m probably the wrong person to judge, I’ll admit it was well done and rather tasty. For being a cookie, that is.

Anyway, I’ve been to this wonderful campus before, although the last time I didn’t peek in on the St. John’s Bible. Which, in retrospect, was a missed opportunity. So I rectified the mistake, and perused the display after lunch. That was, I must say, a great idea.

In case you’d forgot, this Bible is the Western World’s first Benedictine commissioned illuminated manuscript in over 500 years. In less complicated language, that means it’s a hand-painted and scripted Bible, including both beautifully wrought text and stunning artistic renderings of Scripture. Before the days of the printing press, these manuscripts were created across the Christian world; typically the painstaking work of teams of monks requiring years of faithful effort. After that invention, however, the Bible became more accessible to everyday Christians, and not simply those with resources to commission such artwork, or who knew Latin. The downside of this comidification of Scripture, though, was the virtual end of this long-nurtured artistic tradition. In this Protestant’s opinion, the tradeoff was worth it. But I do like beautiful Bibles, nevertheless.

And the St. John’s Bible certainly counts as one, amen?! Last year, a group of us attended an exhibit of the Dead Sea Scrolls at the Science Museum, at the end of which was a gallery with original pages from the St. John’s Bible. If you saw that, or have otherwise encountered these images, I’m sure you’ll agree they’re stunning. Not just pretty handwriting of biblical text, but also examples of profound theology produced through art.

I could go on and on about what’s incredible in this Bible, but I’ll limit myself, in this letter, to the illumination of Mark’s story of the feeding of the 5,000. Remember the event? It’s one of the very few moments in Jesus’ ministry that all four gospels record in some form. A bunch of folk were, one day, listening to Jesus say awesome stuff, but as the night drew near, his disciples worried about how they’d all be feed. Logistics, it seems, is a perennial complication of good ministry! So Jesus says, “Whatever, I’ll feed them.” They find him five loaves of bread and two fish. He breaks the bread, gives thanks (Communion, anyone?!), and hands it to those gathered. And in some “Son of God” way, those small morsels feed the entire crowd, such that twelve baskets of food are leftover.

In the St. John’s Bible, that scene gets depicted not literally, but impressionistically. The page is filled with images of communion wafers, little fish that are reproductions of millennia-old cave drawings in Israel (the traditional site of this story), geometric designs derived from the basket-making tradition of certain Native American tribes (i.e. God’s activity occurs beyond the boundaries of our Scripture and tradition), and smatterings of gold leaf pressed in random shapes. Apparently, the gold represents “The Divine in Scripture,” which is what makes a manuscript “illuminated.” But what I loved most was that these images pushed into the page’s margins and beyond, only broken, occasionally, by black lines and white spaces. To the artist, the black lines represent moments when people act inhospitably, or with malice. And the white spaces represent opportunities for compassion and hospitality not taken. The idea is that the multiplication of Jesus’ miraculous feeding continues, in the ongoing acts of love his followers still perform. The only thing stopping it is our unwillingness to imitate Christ’s love, by what we do, or fail to do. Which left me with a question I’m passing onto you- Who have you fed lately?

Illuminated manuscript, indeed! And not a bad way to spend a half hour in prayer.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Arrival…

2011-01-20T08:00:00.000-08:00

Recently, I’ve thought lots about houses. Some good friends purchased their first home. Tabitha and I have been trying to scratch together for an eventual down payment. We’ve had multiple houseguests in recent days (i.e. lots of cleaning, re-cleaning, redecorating!). All this reminded me that, as much I look forward to owning a home some day, buying one is only the first step. There’s yard work, snow shoveling, selecting appliances and furniture. Insurance, property taxes, repairs. Not being a home owner, there’s surely much I’ve never considered! Getting a home, it seems, is like so many other things in life- once you ‘arrive,’ the work is just beginning.

Remember the story of the Israelites escaping Egypt? The Adult Sunday School talked about this recently, and as I heard about it, something struck me for the first time. Arriving in the Promised Land was not the end of the process.

A refresher for those who haven’t read Exodus in awhile. The ancient Israelites were enslaved in Egypt, for generations, the story goes. Eventually, God hears their cries, and empowers Moses to empower the people to achieve liberation. They then wandered forty years in the wilderness, always dreaming of a land God was preparing for them, aka The Promised Land. And one day, they arrived!

But the hard work, the Bible and archeology tell us, had only just begun. Two books in the Hebrew Bible- Joshua and Judges- give competing memories for what happened next. According to Joshua (generally speaking), the Israelites attacked city after city, massacring indigenous populations and confiscating the land, all at God’s behest. According to Judges, the process was more gradual- some success, much failure- and the escaped slaves joined with local tribes to form what eventually became the Israelite nation. Judges’ story, by the way, accords more with the archeological record, and our sense that God doesn’t condone genocide (Joshua’s valuable for other reasons). Nevertheless, the point is that inhabiting the Promised Land wasn’t easy or setback free. It was an ongoing struggle- internally and externally- to capitalize on a great opportunity, overcome limitations and foibles, and ultimately, to be as faithful to God’s best dreams for the future as possible.

It seems to me that Plymouth Creek, currently, has something in common with that story. If you weren’t at the potluck last Sunday, you should know that the Board presented a new vision for the future of Plymouth Creek. We’ve been working on this for over a year now. It’s begun affecting our worship life, planning and decision-making. And after long, prayerful discernment, and much congregational feedback, we felt the vision work was complete enough to share our efforts, and solicit everyone’s support and help.

I can’t describe fully the vision, its process and implications in this letter. We’ve got months of sharing, revising and imagining together to discover that. Simply, let me state the underlying idea we’ve discerned, and ask for your reaction. We believe it is the God-sized and inspired vision, for the future of Plymouth Creek, to become a beacon of Christian openness and service in the NW suburbs.

A beacon of Christian openness and service. Hopefully, that’s specific enough to generate ideas from everyone, and challenging enough to take the years of work and creativity that a God-inspired vision deserves. I.e. there will be time enough to flesh everything out. For now, it’s enough- for us all- to feel invigorated, like we’re not wandering in the wilderness, hoping only to survive. Rather, I pray we’re inspired to believe God’s given us new directions, fresh vision; that God’s glorious hopes for our intimate, hospitable, open and service-minded church will happen. And, thus, we’ll provide our neighbors the love, joy and compassion they so desperately need, more than we now believe possible.

As the ancient Israelites teach so profoundly, once you ‘arrive’, the work isn’t over. Still, arrival is wonderful, worth celebrating for a time. So I pray you feel, like me, there’s no other place I’d rather be learning to shine a beacon of openness and service than with Christians like you. It’s a good time to be a Plymouth Creeker, my friends. Thank you for that.

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Honoring God…

2011-01-13T08:00:00.000-08:00

In last week’s letter, I began reflecting on the recent shooting of a Pakistani politician. I didn’t treat the topic fully. I simply tried identifying a core issue in the killing- why people defend God’s honor- and ended with, basically, to be continued…

Then, last Saturday, our country witnessed an almost-political assassination. By all reports, Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords of Arizona should not have survived it. But, thank God, brain surgeons have made incredible progress treating brain injury. So she may recover completely.

In light of that, I felt I couldn’t continue my original plan without mentioning Rep. Giffords. Indeed, while the two shooters’ motivations seem wildly different, I thought, maybe, a similarity exists. One analogous to horseracing.

Now I’m not trying to diminish these tragedies, so I hope this comparison is apt. Imagine being at the horse track, preparing to watch the races. In your program are funky horse names that mean nothing to you. Nevertheless, at the track, there’s pressure to place bets. Some have developed grand betting theories. But if you haven’t, nor have inside info into these equine athlete, you may not bet.

Until after the first race, that is, when the horses thunder down the homestretch and the whole grandstand stands up cheering. You think, “There’s no way everyone cares that much about a horse named Touboogie Woogie.” Then it hits you, “If I had three dollars riding on this, I’d be cheering just as loud…” So to increase your investment in the races, you bet occasionally, hope you win, but mostly enjoy screaming for your horse, while knowing that, ultimately, life goes on.

Again, the metaphor’s imperfect, but I think that’s how many approach politics. At some point, we put a stake in the ‘race.’ Indeed, we think we might even affect the outcome, so we vote, donate, volunteer, believing things will be better- for us and the common good- if our candidate/party/issue wins. But hopefully, we don’t expect the world to end when we lose.

Unfortunately, some overinvest in the race. Perhaps they think they know more than others about what will, or should, occur. So they bet massive amounts on their horses. And while the rest of us stand and cheer, only to move on when our bets falter, they sit anxiously in the stands, eyes fixed demonically on the track.

I think that’s similar to these situations. Two men, for different reasons, overinvested in the activities of government officials. For one, it seems religious leaders riled him up by mistaking blasphemy as a threat to God. As if God’s that weak and defenseless. But unlike other adherents of his faith, this guy bet his life, hoping it would pay off in the next, to change the race’s dynamics. I pray he and his clergy learn humility, and seek forgiveness. The Arizona shooter didn’t seem religious; maybe he was disturbed, dangerously lonely, or egomaniacal. Still, he too overinvested in the political race, and acted like the best way to make good on that investment was to end the race for others. Heartbreaking.

Many churches have difficulty talking faith and politics, and so don’t do it often, us included. But humor me to talk politics for a moment. I believe Christians should never put political beliefs before the life or dignity of another. Why? Because Jesus death revealed God’s unending love for everyone. I.e. The race that ultimately counts is the one whose outcome is certain; it’s the one Jesus died to fix.

Sometimes we forget that, that God not only values people of all ideologies (whether or not S/He agrees…), but also offers them compassion and grace. It’s not like we don’t believe it. We just sometimes overinvest in the race. Certainly not as badly as these men, but no one seems immune these days. So please, in light of these horrible events, let’s remember that whatever (insert your non-preferred politicians here) want for our state, country or world, God won’t ever stop offering them, or us, love and forgiveness, and will always be present with hope. And yes, the political race is still important. But to faithful Christians, it always takes second place to God’s love.

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Powerful words…

2011-01-07T07:14:00.000-08:00

I heard news from Pakistan this week that disturbed me. Perhaps you did too. I refer to the murder of the Governor of Pakistan’s largest province- Salman Taseer of Punjab- allegedly carried out by a man hired to guard him. And it’s not simply the premature death of a prominent Pakistani official that caught my attention. It was the suspected motive for the killing that stood out. It seems Gov. Taseer’s bodyguard killed him because of the politician’s opposition to lethal punishment for blasphemers.

A little context, from what I’ve gleaned: A few decades back, then-President (read- military dictator) General Zia ul-Haq instituted laws outlawing blasphemy against the state religion of Islam. These laws included prohibitions protecting the religious sensitivities of practitioners, the sanctity of Holy sites, and punishing desecration of the Qur’an and the prophet Muhammad. Defaming the latter, in fact, is a capital offense. As an American, it’s outside my experience that a government would mandate one religion. But Pakistan is officially The Islamic Republic of Pakistan, and it’s not my prerogative to judge whether that’s okay. Pakistanis can organize their country as they see fit.

What is troubling, though, is that multiple human rights and aid groups- international and Pakistani- have documented violence stemming directly from these blasphemy laws, particularly against ethnic or religious minorities. No one’s yet been executed because of a blasphemy conviction. However, mobs, religious fanatics and/or police have murdered folk simply because they were accused of blasphemy. It seems outcries against one recent accusation, and subsequent harassment, had reached Gov. Taseer’s desk. He boldly, and properly, called these laws unjust, recommending a change. Many applauded that decision. Fanatics did not, and so apparently, murdered him. Poor problem solving imagination, I’d say, but I’m not a religious fanatic.

Now, I bring this up not to inflame negativity against Islam or Pakistan. The idiocy of some practitioners or citizens does not a religion or country make. And thank God for that, since some Christians also advocated death for blasphemy or heresy. Exhibit A- Salem Witch Trials. Exhibit B- John Calvin’s theocratic rule in Geneva. Still, Christian, Muslim or otherwise, why would a religious person be so outraged by so-called blasphemy as to kill someone? Or even lock her/him in jail?

One analysis might suggest, of course, less-than-religious motivations for such killings. Namely, it’s in the perceived political interest of certain religious factions to bully non-practitioners to do what they want. I.e. Those laws aren’t about God, Jesus or Muhammad. They’re about power and control.

But as true as that analysis might be, when applied to John Calvin or a political leader (people who’d stand to gain and exercise power from social control), it’s less clear why a simple congregant- the Governor’s bodyguard- would carry out the execution. Indeed, it seems he was so outraged by the possibility that Muhammad’s dignity might, someday, be accosted by the easing of these laws, that he felt compelled to end his-life-as-he-knew-it by ending another’s. In other words, his wasn’t a political motivation. It was religious; it came from the very core of his self-identity.

And, assuming he wasn’t just deranged, he probably thought his life best used by guarding God’s honor.

Does God’s honor matter that much? Something true for all religious folk, I think, is our conviction that God- by whatever name S/He’s called- is special. So special, unique…Holy…we should treat God with more deference than other cherished people or objects. Consider that some Christians get offended when a TV character says, “Jesus Christ,” or a football coach screams, “God Damn!” Not nearly the same as execution for blasphemy, but there’s something related in those reactions: defending God’s honor.

Not enough space left to address this issue fully. But a final thought: When Jesus was dying on the Cross, his captors mocked, “If you’re truly God, come down from there and show us.” His response, “Be careful not to hate the ones killing us because they know not what they are doing. God forgive them.” Well, actually that was The Reverend Meyassr Al- Qaspotros at a Chaldean Catholic Church in Baghdad over Christmas. But I think I’ve heard that sentiment before.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

God’s ways are different. Always…

2011-01-03T08:23:00.000-08:00

Have you heard the tale of the Blind Men and the Elephant? Multiple Eastern religions have adapted it. Celebrated Sufi mystic Rumi had his version. American Poet John Godfrey Saxe penned a famous 19th century rendition. But in case it’s escaped you, or it’s been awhile, here’s the abbreviated Rev. Isner version:

Three blind men walked into a large room, where a King had tied up an elephant. The King said, “Before you is a beast of great power and wisdom. Please describe it.” So the first man grabbed the elephant’s leg, and declared, “My Liege, this beast is like a pillar!” The second man, feeling the ear, disagreed, “No! It’s more akin to a fan.” The third man inspected the tail, and quickly jumped in, “You are both fools! The beast is most like a rope.” But the King said, “You all are right. And you all are wrong. The elephant is all of this, and more besides.”

As a metaphor for knowing God, I like this story. Each of us can say something true about the Lord. And yet, we’ll always be limited in how far our understandings or experiences can reach. Paul says in the Love Chapter- 1 Cor. 13- “Now we see in a mirror, dimly…then (the afterlife) I will know fully, even as I’ve been fully known.” Amen!

As a metaphor for how Christians act, this story’s many versions can also be instructive. In one telling, attributed to the Buddha, the blind men fight and punch as they disagree about who’s really right, while the King looks on delighted. The story ends with, “O how they cling and wrangle, some who claim/For preacher and monk the honored name!/For, quarreling, each to his view they cling./Such folk see only one side of a thing.” In another version, the blind men calmly declare their thoughts, and await patiently as the King resolves everything. Others fall in various places between. Likewise, Jesus’ followers have fought about our differences, celebrated them, awkwardly abided them and/or simply ignored them. God’s Children are myriad, indeed!

This year, 2011, I hope Plymouth Creek will take these differences head on. That we will be honest- with God, ourselves and especially our neighbors- about our deepest faith convictions, our inevitable limitations, and endlessly curious about what we could never have come up with ourselves. As a Disciples of Christ church, one of our greatest strengths and identity markers is the Open Table, i.e. the fact that we never say, “No, communion for you; you’re unacceptable.” Such unconditional hospitality and radical openness, however, can be tough. Some want to pigeonhole us- “What does your church believe about…” The only appropriate response is, “Jesus is Lord. The rest is up to us.” Many prefer churches with but one style of music, or dominant generation, or ideological agenda. We think we’re better off remaining open, even if that means a slower growth pattern.

But rather than focus on the struggles of our openness, I want us to explore its blessedness this year. So in keeping with recent years, we’ll have a theme to emphasize that idea all year long. Here it is, what you’ve been waiting for (and probably shorter than expected!), the PCCC 2011 Annual Theme- God’s ways are different. Always…

In sermons series, scripture studies, activities and more, I hope that throughout 2011 we’ll embrace the holy wonderful strangeness of our Lord. Yes, God’s as caring, compassionate and forgiving as we’ve always believed. But in many ways we sometimes ignore (preachers more than most!), God is different. God’s vision is vastly more expansive than ours could ever be. God’s love is radically more inclusive than our hearts allow. God’s hopes are more realistic and daring than our most personal dreams. So rather than be a church contented with ever repeating the same formulas and beliefs, let’s prove to ourselves, our visitors, friends and neighbors what an open church this can be!

Why? Because striving always to adapt our ways to God’s ways is a life-giving way to be. Besides, imagine how better this world would be if more folk followed the different trajectory of God’s Kingdom.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

High resolution…

2010-12-31T08:06:00.000-08:00

My brother-in-law is a TV lover. The day after Thanksgiving 2009, he went to a Black Friday sale and purchased his Christmas present early- a wide-screen, high def TV. It’s quite impressive. More importantly, he got a great deal. The following July, however, on leave from his current tour of duty in Iraq (which, we just learned, will be ending in February, a month earlier than expected!), he was at Walmart. And an even bigger, higher resolution TV sat before him, priced 70% below normal. He couldn’t help himself; he brought it to the cashiers. They said, “Actually, that price is wrong.” He said, “But that’s the price on the TV, so you have to honor it.” They said, “Alright,” and the suddenly ‘old’ TV moved upstairs into the bedroom, so this new, extremely high resolution TV could take its place.

I know some of you have TVs like that. Though if you’ve never seen one, it’s quite incredible; almost eerie, even. We watched the movie Avatar on it, and the resolution was stunning. It seemed more real than real, and not just because much of the movie’s scenery and action are computer generated. Rather, it’s like the TV screen’s colors and shapes were amplified beyond normal human capacity. Blue was BLUE; details were more precise than a monk’s handwriting. After watching sports and movies on that TV, the everyday world around me looked…duller, less colorful, as if my life was unreal while the TV was normal. I thought, “High resolution, indeed!”

Around this time of year, of course, we speak of ‘resolution’ for other reasons than how nifty a television screen looks. A new year is coming, so people will begin making resolutions about what’s going to change in the coming months. I’ve never been a big New Year’s Resolution guy before. I’ve always thought them somewhat hokey. But this year, we got a puppy. Then, I canceled my gym membership. And once the weather turned colder, dog walks happened less frequently. Now my tummy is more insulated than it’s ever been. I think you get the story. So I’m pondering a resolution, for the first time, regarding my dormant workout routine. And checking Craigslist for inexpensive free weights, dumbbells and a bench. Let me know if you’ve any leads.

So, being new to this New Year’s Resolution phenomenon, I’ve given it some thought. And it seems comparable to the resolution of my brother-in-law’s TVs. Both have to do with heightened reality. Here’s my thinking: For the most part, I hope we’re pretty alright with our lots in life. We’re not famous inventors or CEOs, but our families, volunteer projects and simple pursuits feel meaningful enough, I pray. Still, maybe we’ve got into habits that aren’t as life-optimizing as we’d prefer. Poor sleep patterns, dinner routines, too much TV(!). Ours may not be dramatically detrimental like some habits- drug addiction, say- but we still don’t like them. They sit in the background of our consciousness, irritating like a low buzz. They make life seem duller, less colorful. So, if we do it right, we take advantage of New Year’s to sharpen the resolution a bit; eliminate a problem area, hoping that our sights and sounds will be crisper, more joyful and life-giving.

I imagine the problem comes when we expect too much of New Year’s Resolutions. When we imagine we’re ‘upgrading’ to my brother-in-law’s newest TV, not from a slightly less optimal high def set, but from my grandmother’s 1974 Panasonic. If your life truly feels unreal in comparison to where you’d like to be, seek long-term counseling or help. Not a simple set of resolutions. But if you’re like me and many others, and have identified a tweak you’d bet will brighten things up a bit, I guess a New Year’s Resolution isn’t so bad. Heck, let me know about yours, now that you know mine, and we can keep each other accountable! And if nothing like that stands out in your life, congratulations; keep on keeping on. Mostly, though, I pray that this New Year is better than the last, for you and all you encounter.

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Whatever’s needed…

2010-12-22T06:00:00.000-08:00

If I’d stayed on track (I tell myself), I might be managing my very own KFC by now. Oh, the places I could’ve gone. You may know I began working during high school, at a local Kentucky Fried Chicken. Nine months later, they promoted me to Assistant Manager! Why so soon? Perhaps I was that rare teenager at our store who showed up regularly on time, or who hadn’t quit within six months. Whatever the reason, they sent me for training, gave me a snazzy new shirt and raised my pay to $6.35/hour!

I don’t remember much from those classes, save two important lessons.

Because chicken can cause salmonella, cook it to an internal temperature over 165 degrees.
Customer service must always be extra-ordinary.

Lesson #1 should be obvious. Lesson #2, let me explain. Being a manager now, they told me, meant more than huge wages and increased street cred. I was also responsible for thinking about the big picture, the store’s long-term success. And when it came to fast food, how we treated people really mattered. One study claimed that for each person who had a negative experience at our store, they’d tell, on average, ten others. So if I was rude, or messed up an order badly, or our bathrooms were gross, eleven people in my community thought less of us. That could compound quickly. The same study claimed it took an exceptional experience- astoundingly tasty food, a uniquely fantastic cashier- for someone to share it, and then they’d only tell three people. Interesting numbers- mess up, eleven people know; do alright, who cares; far exceed expectations, only four people hear the good news. In other words, for a business/entity that relies on customer service and good hospitality to survive, thrive and expand, getting by just won’t cut it. You must be committed to excellence.
This week, of course, Christmas arrives again, and a famous part of this beloved story has been on my mind. You know how it goes- Joseph and Mary travel to Bethlehem, give birth to Jesus, and lay “him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.” That half-sentence has sparked many imaginations over the centuries. Some condemned the innkeeper for treating the Holy Family disrespectfully. Others chuckled at the irony. I, however, love that line because it establishes, from the outset, a (the?) core Christian value: hospitality.

The innkeeper, of course, had no idea who was on her doorstep. And while she couldn’t change the fact her inn was already full, she could’ve said, “Go somewhere else.” Yet she acknowledged a couple in need, and found room when there was none. She provided great hospitality. No, she didn’t give the best service imaginable. But faced with a choice, the innkeeper did what she could and creatively met this couple’s needs, giving Jesus at least some place to lay his head.

That’s a parable, I believe, for the goal of Christian faith- always, as best you’re able, provide the hospitality people need. Or to quote Jesus- Love your neighbor. I think about this now because, during Christmas, I meet many new people. Relatives of church members in town for the Holidays. New folk to the neighborhood dropping by to check out the church. Someone, who attends worship only for major holidays, blesses us with her/his presence. Whatever the reason, Christmas gives us more chances to provide hospitality than most any other time. Meaning we get to do more of what we (should) do best!

Of course, as the innkeeper showed, good Christian hospitality responds to what others want or need, as best we’re able, rather than assumes we already know what’s needed. And as my manager training years ago taught, memorable hospitality is one of two things- bad or exceptional.

Let’s commit to exceptional Christian hospitality this year, shall we?! And not just toward Christmas visitors, but to each other and people in need throughout the year. For Christmas is only the beginning of something remarkable, and not the culmination, amen? Besides, I think y’all, and our Lord, are too wonderful not to get people talking.

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Light in the darkness…

2010-12-17T01:00:00.000-08:00

When I announced I was moving to Minnesota, multiple people responded in shock, saying, “Whooooaa! That place is sooo cold!” I lived in Kentucky at the time, so take that reaction with a grain of salt. They cancel school there at the threat of snow; six inches might cause historic panic. Still, even outside the South, our state has a reputation for extreme winters. International Falls, along the Canadian Border, prides itself as the coldest town in the country, self-describing as “The Icebox of the Nation”. The population is an unsurprisingly low 1200, although I imagine they’ve more sweaters than the entire state of Kentucky. But even if our frigid reputation is deserved in some ways, that didn’t matter to me. I figured that very few cold weather conditions can’t be solved with the right, and enough, layers. So I packed my hats, dusted off extra sweaters, and excitedly moved north!

What I failed to expect, however, was another facet of Minnesota winter that all the down coats in the world are powerless to confront. The Darkness. Minnesota winter is a dark time, indeed. And sure, before I moved I’d heard about winter days being shorter and nights longer the farther north you lived. That doesn’t mean I anticipated my negative reaction to that fact. Or how pervasive the doldrums would spread across the city the longer our dark days lasted. So my first Minnesota January was a revelation. I moped about, wondering why I was so grumpy and why everyone else was too. Then, I turned on more lights in my home, and strangely felt the positive vibes picking up.

Recently, I learned that circumstance may have something to do with Christmas, especially why the early church chose to celebrate it on December 25. We don’t know, of course, the actual date of Jesus’ birth. The calendar then was different than ours, and besides, neither Mary nor Joseph were important enough (yet!) to merit written records of their daily actions. Luke includes a reference about Gabriel announcing Jesus’ conception on the ‘sixth month,’ but such suggestions are speculative at best, likely Luke’s symbolic additions to provide his story with greater texture and authority. So the early church, when they decided to make Jesus’ birth an annual festival, had to rely not on fact, but the needs of their community at the time. And so, one theory goes, they chose a day near the Winter Solstice, i.e. the longest night of the year. Many early religions honor that day, of course, a sign of order in a chaotic world, or of the ever-revolving nature of the seasons. So it was familiar to these Christians, and had an additional benefit besides.

Remember John 1? “In the beginning was the Word…and the Word was God…the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us…” In that Gospel, there’re no stories of Wise Men and Angels. All we hear of Jesus’ beginning is this poetic declaration that the Word (i.e. Jesus) helped create the world, and then came to live amongst us as “the light of all people.” John then claims that, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” In other words, an important early belief about Jesus was this claim about brightness and darkness- maybe as metaphors of holiness v. sin, justice v. oppression, peace v. violence. Or all of the above! Not surprising, then, that they’d choose the Winter Solstice to celebrate light coming into the world, overcoming darkness. Literally and spiritually, that’s exactly what’s happening.

So maybe, as you abide these darkest days of our year, you’ll remember that “the darkness does not overcome.” Spring will return, and bring a pervasive sense of fresh air and joy. And Jesus will be (re)born in our midst, overcoming fear, loneliness, anxiety, and sin with the Light of a new Creation. If we invite him to do so, that is. May that be so, in my life, and yours. The darkness may be natural, and helpful on days we want to catch up on sleep! But it needn’t weigh us down this Winter, for the light of our world has come.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Fearfully and wonderfully made…

2010-12-09T15:25:00.000-08:00

I feel older this week than I did last week, by more than seven days. And that seems like mostly a good thing, but surprising, and a bit sad. Not that getting older is cause for sorrow; I find our culture’s unhealthy obsession with youth annoying, in fact. In my opinion, aging is a blessing- that comes with challenges, sure- but the benefits should outweigh the troubles. Rather, my lingering melancholy at feeling suddenly more grown-up derives from the sad news I received last week. In case you didn’t hear- My good buddy, Mike, died unexpectedly last Tuesday, leaving behind a wife eight-months pregnant, and heartbroken parents, siblings and friends.

I had the privilege to officiate Mike’s wedding, though none of us would’ve guessed I’d do the same for his funeral. It felt both appropriate and ridiculous. That I could help his family this way, so they could just grieve and not worry whether Mike would receive a fitting, familiar tribute, was an honor. And I’m grateful for a church who affords me the flexibility to take those days off. Thank you! But suitable as it was that I, a friend, led the Memorial Service, it’s also a bit absurd. For one, I’m still a young minister, and certainly wondered at times whether I was up to the task. But more absurd, and more importantly, was Mike’s youth and abrupt death. Thirty year-old expectant fathers just aren’t supposed to die. It feels wrong, somehow, an affront to goodness. And I’d be angry, I think, if I wasn’t in shock.

Does that sound familiar? I suspect so. I think that many of us believe, perhaps unconsciously, there’s an order to life. Or there should be. And so think, when that order’s upended, it’s not just sad, but offensive. As if the universe messed up. Sure, if pushed, we’d acknowledge that life is fragile, that we’re never in control, that anything can happen. But that’s not how we live day-to-day, right? We make plans as if we are in control. We (mis)treat friends, neighbors, family, as if we know how long we’ve got left. Fragility, vulnerability are talked of not as facts of life, but symptoms of failure. It seems to me such patterns of behavior and speech are powerful, widely shared, and hey, sometimes even helpful. They may help us live more confidently, take more risks, weather hard times with optimism. Until times get too hard. And something exposes us as fragile, dependent creatures. To which, we might respond angrily, “That should not happen! At least, not to me…”

But Jesus once said, “Blessed are (the meek, poor…) those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” It’s like our Leader didn’t share our familiar way of thinking. He pronounced God’s favor- blessings- on the most (obviously) vulnerable and fragile amongst us. And I wonder if, among other reasons, that’s about peace of mind…

Of course, as fragile and angry as I’ve felt recently, peace of mind has been elusive. But after crying with friends, saying my goodbyes, I’m feeling older, and more accepting of my limitations. That I’m not invincible. That, truly, it can happen to me. And as I project those feelings into the future (assuming I maintain and integrate them!), it seems somehow…more peaceful. Like I’ll learn to better trust that which is beyond me more than myself. And while I’m sure God shares my grief at Mike’s death (or anytime our fragility leads to heartache), God probably thinks that perspective is good, that it builds humility and compassion.

Or maybe I’m just groping to cope with a tragic situation! Which is alright too... That many of us have the instinct to search dark clouds for silver linings, that’s probably also a sign of blessedness. Maybe even a sign of trust, that whatever happens, we’ll find ourselves, eventually, in the midst of love and brightness, which no darkness can overcome. I believe deeply that’s where my buddy Mike is now, and will welcome me when it’s my turn. Until then, rest in peace, dear friend.

And may we be more loving to our fragile neighbors- precious children of God, every one.

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Long-lasting gifts…

2010-12-01T08:18:00.000-08:00

For all the outsized passion and anxious anticipation I invested in Christmas as a child, I don’t remember many of the presents I received. There was the basketball hoop above the garage- that was cool. One year, my present was ski bindings. The year after, I got skis. After major concussions two consecutive years while skiing, my Christmas present was a top-of-the-line helmet. My mother put it this way, “We’re paying too much in college tuition for you to worry about looking cool on the slopes. I don’t care how much it costs; get the best helmet there is.” I still use that helmet, by the way, and haven’t had another concussion, yet. As a bonus, ski helmets have since become ‘cool skiing attire.’

Still, most Christmas gifts I received over the years weren’t especially memorable. Some new video game, piece of clothing, popular toy, whatever. All deeply desired and loudly lobbied for ahead of time. Of course. But over time, basically undifferentiated.

I wonder if that has something to do with the longevity of those gifts? I remember the b-ball hoop and skiing stuff because, well, I used them for a loooooong time. But I don’t play video games anymore (I was never good anyway). I’ve outgrown my old clothes and styles. I ate all the food gifts I was given, often that very day! It seems most of our childhood Christmas gifts weren’t really designed for longevity, were they? They provided joy for a time, reinforced our parents’ love, but weren’t typically built to last the decades.

As an adult, however, I prefer gifts I’ll use for a long time, or something that fulfills a need. Especially both. I’m willing to pay more (or for my wife to pay more) for long-lasting gifts. And if the result is fewer gifts, that’s fine with me. Less junk to clean up later after all. Can I get an amen for that?!

This Christmas, you might know, Plymouth Creek is getting a new gift; one that I suspect we’ll remember well as time goes by. Well, it may not be exactly Christmas, but we’re hoping that’s the basic timing. In any event, we’ll soon receive money for a church bus and seven years of operating expenses (time enough to build gas, insurance and upkeep into our annual budget).

If all goes as hoped and planned, this will be a great, wonderful gift. It’ll fulfill a need and be long-lasting, as well as honor the long-lasting gifts of others. For one, it’s the result of many months of research and planning on the part of the Board, its leaders and Steve Weaver. But it’s especially the consequence of many decades of faithfulness from Christian sisters and brothers of another church. I’m speaking, of course, about Valley View Christian Church. For many years, they provided ministry in Audubon Park, and then Fridley, until unfortunately closing their doors in 2003. The sale of their building and assets established a fund that has since paid for our Sunday morning bus service. Some former VV folk are now current PCCCers, and needed extra assistance getting to church. But now, rather than continuing to hire others for that ministry, we’ve decided to take it on ourselves! So the VV fund is giving us a one-time grant to establish a bus ministry. Meaning soon our members will make that Sunday morning run. And we’ll also have bus transportation for other ministries.

Remember what my mother said about my ski helmet gift? Basically, “You need to be responsible.” I think that’s an enduring truth about most long-lasting gifts, however fun they might be. This bus is a big responsibility, though one I believe we’ll manage well. But think about other memorable, long-lasting gifts, and a pattern emerges. Remarkable talent, a new job, family and kids. Memorable, long-lasting gifts go hand-in-hand with responsibility. Maybe that’s why gifts get more memorable as we age; growth builds strength and capacity, and thus, greater responsibility. I pray this gift reflects the continued growth and development of our church, and we’ll be faithful stewards of our new responsibilities, and the gifts of our Valley View friends.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

A fine balance…

2010-11-26T14:10:00.000-08:00

My birthday gift this year was about as good as my wife could hope for. As you might know, I’ve decided to become a good cook, so I asked her to give me cooking classes. Her response- Of course! Since the only burden that gift put on her was to eat the ever-increasing quality of food I made. A sacrifice she agreed to make for my happiness.

Recently, however, the bargain didn’t work as well as either of us are hoping. I took a sushi-making class at Whole Foods near Lake Calhoun. We like sushi; I thought, therefore, it’d be fun to make at home eventually. And besides, how hard could it be?! Rice, seaweed, tuna, wasabi. All I needed were tips for cooking the rice and rolling the rolls, and I’d be an instant sushi chef. Right? Right…

Wrong.

The class was hands-on, and quite good. The instructor described the rice-making process and showed how to roll a sushi roll. She gave helpful recipes, and presented a vast array of ingredients she’d prepared for experimenting purposes. Then, it was time for us to make sushi ourselves! Fyi, I’d promised Tabitha I’d bring mine home as her dinner…

I won’t bore you with the details; suffice to say, I didn’t follow the recipes. Rather, I followed my instincts, created on the fly, hoping to discover an unexpectedly wonderful new combination. I didn’t. Instead, I produced a jumble of tastes that didn’t complement each other; an over-abundance of soft textures that felt like bad mash potatoes; a dinner only edible because I felt compelled. Fortunately, Whole Foods has a professional sushi counter, which I stopped by before leaving. Tabitha, after all, was expecting sushi she could eat.

I’m sure that meal failed for many reasons, but since it was my first time, I didn’t feel terrible. Call it an exercise in giving myself grace. Still, I do want to learn this skill, so I’ve been pondering. And it seems that my major mistake was miscalculating the balance. All chefs know, of course, that balance is essential for any good tasting meal (not just sushi). All sweet but no bitter may work for ice cream, but in most dishes, the goal is a fine balance between various tastes and textures. Alas, my sushi rolls were decidedly unbalanced. Too much rice, not enough crunchy counterweights, excess wasabi (which, at least, cleared my sinuses…). I now know one reason sushi chefs apprentice for 5+ years- achieving an appropriately fine balance takes time to learn.

But that lesson isn’t exclusive for sushi chefs, right? What’s true for sushi is true for life (at least in terms of balance). And that’s especially so when talking spiritually-engaged living. One of God’s greatest roles in our lives, in fact, is to help us discover strength and perspective to balance life’s many concerns. Spending lots of time and money on just yourself? Jesus said, “Whatsoever you do for the least of these, you do to me.” Time to level scales. Spending too much time pleasing others- kids, boss, friends- and not eating well, exercising, praying enough? Jesus said, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Both sides are important. The goal isn’t complete self-denial or self-realization. It’s a fine balance.

I think that’s one among many reasons I don’t define faith by our “beliefs,” like those who say, “I’m Christian because I believe Jesus is God.” Beliefs are ideas you affirm are true. Faith is more active. It’s the trust you develop in God’s vision and voice over time, after trying to listen, sinning, helping others, receiving help, i.e. upsetting and retaining a fine balance between hope and sadness, peace and anxiety. And because life shifts constantly around us, active participation is required to stay balanced. It’s not enough to say, “I believe Jesus is Lord.” It’s much more helpful to ask, “God, where in my life am I not acknowledging your loving Lordship?” And then taking the risk of faith to rebalance. It may not work immediately; you may need to keep praying, trusting, doing. But again, what’s true for sushi is true for life: there’s always tomorrow’s dinner...

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Simply Christmas…

2010-11-19T08:44:00.000-08:00

Ever feel like Christmas is a heavy holiday? That the day doesn’t so much arrive as it falls on you like a stack of firewood? I do. Every year, I want to celebrate Christmas with abandon and joy and a deep sense of spiritual renewal. But when I think about it, the anxiety machine in my heart ramps up for heavy production. I worry about worship planning, shopping lists for meals and gifts, the budget, charitable giving, etc. And yet, a sneaking suspicion always lurks in my mind that the point of Christmas is getting drowned out. Retailers call the day after Thanksgiving (i.e. the Holiday Shopping Season’s ‘official’ start) “Black Friday,” a reference to their hope that high sales on that day will turn their ledgers from red to black. But for many, I feel that day marks a transition of their mood from joyful to dark and gloomy, because the Holiday Season is more complicated than it should be.

We talked about that at a recent Worship Team meeting, and decided to fight back! Rather than resign ourselves to another Christmas overly complicated by too much unneeded stuff, we Plymouth Creekers will refocus on the simple stories and meanings of this wonderful season. So the theme for this year’s Advent is “Simply Christmas,” and we’ll explore that theme in multiple ways. Our sanctuary will have fewer decorations than normal. Every week, we’ll sing simple Christmas and Holiday songs, and retell just the basic stories of Christmas through our scriptures and sermons. And to cut through the over-commercialization of Christmas (ponder- How did we let Jesus’ birth become The occasion for stores to pressure folk into irresponsible spending?!?), we’re asking that you plan to give more needed gifts with us every week.

#1- Chana W challenged us recently to bring simple toiletries for families in need, believing that a simple tube of toothpaste can be a great Christmas gift. And beyond that, every week of Advent we’ll have a new opportunity to give a simple needed gift, reflecting that day’s theme. You know how each candle on the Advent Wreath has a unique meaning? Advent 1 is Hope, 2 is Love, 3 Joy, 4 Peace... Well, every Sunday, as we light a new candle and tell another part of the story of Jesus’ birth, we’ll put a simple item in front of the Sanctuary. That item will symbolize the simple theme and story of the week, and will also serve as a chance for you to give to people in need.

Of course, I won’t ruin the surprise, and tell you now what those items will be! But I will tell you what the schedule will be for our various gifts, so you can bring those to church on the corresponding Sunday. Just imagine- as Christmas gets closer and closer, the front of our Sanctuary will fill with the generous gifts of our church for those who need these gifts this season more than we. Pretty cool idea, I think, so we’re trying it out to see how it works. Here’s the schedule:

On November 28, the first Sunday in Advent, please bring a foodshelf donation. Click here for a list of items that are especially helpful.

On December 5, the second Sunday in Advent, please bring a children’s book (or a couple!) that’s new or gently used, and especially, if you can, toddler board books.

On December 12, the third Sunday in Advent, please bring a baby blanket (or a couple!), that’s new or gently used, and/or any other cold weather clothing like hats, jackets, mittens.

On December 19, the fourth Sunday in Advent, please bring money for a special peace offering, which will be explained on that Sunday.

At its most basic, the simple point of Jesus’ birth- and life, death and resurrection- was to transport us beyond ourselves into God’s very presence, and so give us deeper compassion and love for all God’s Creation. Living for something beyond yourself; a simple idea, sure. But it’s a Christmas gift we all need again and again, and a better one than even my deeply coveted Amazon Kindle…

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Last Things…

2010-11-12T07:09:00.000-08:00

       Prompted by a text message, I wrote a letter recently about the soul. And I so enjoyed writing that, I decided to wash/rinse/repeat. Except I didn’t get a text message this time; it was an email. And it wasn’t about the soul; this one pondered the End Times. I promise this won’t be too scary…

       First, a memory. In high school, my youth group once attended a weekend event called, “Choir of the Fire.” It offered loud music, ‘Christian Cool’ t-shirts for purchase and all the fun we could handle. But my strongest memory is of the keynote speaker and his theory about the End of the World, which according to (his interpretation of) Revelation would occur soon. So Revelation’s Ten-Horned Beast was the European Union (which had 10 member states then …coincidence?…he thought not). A resurrected Soviet Union would invade Israel. Armageddon would ensue, literally. In retrospect, I find the idea rather disgusting; gathering hundreds of impressionable youth, exciting them with pleasing sights and sounds, and then, at just the right time, scaring Hell into them so they’d support your ideology. I’m sure he’d describe it differently; that he was encouraging us, telling us important stuff others weren’t. At the time, though, I was freaked out, and years later, I’m deeply skeptical of fear-based theology, and especially anyone claiming to know the future through Biblical Interpretation.

      And yet, one of my favorite seminary books was The Writings of Joachim di Fiore. This 12th Century monk/mystic was all the rage in his day, although the Catholic Church hierarchy thought him quite insane. He predicted that in 1260 CE, the Church would cease, because history-as-we-know-it would end. All humans (not just clergy) would connect directly with God. So-called heathens and Christians would reconcile. He even drew sweeping, detailed (and yes, perhaps a bit insane) pictures of dragons and angels and the Trinity, all metaphorical depictions of his theories, based on- you guessed it- interpretations of Revelation. I loved the book’s imagination, inclusive spirit and poetic boldness (not its End Times theology or Biblical interpretation)!

      Ever notice how some Christians dream up vast, detailed theories about the End of Days, Heaven and Hell, yet spend almost no energy dreaming about a better life in this life for more people? I find that unfortunate, even contrary to the point of Revelation (and all Biblical Prophecy). Revelation, after all, was written (late 1st/early 2nd Century CE) for small Christian Communities experiencing much pressure and oppression. One of their leaders (the text’s author) was in exile; local authorities had changed from tolerating this weird obsession with a crucified carpenter, to actively targeting and hurting Jesus’ Disciples. So John writes to his oppressed minority communities, imaginatively proclaiming that even if the violent, unjust Roman Empire (aka, the Beast) wants to do them harm, the One Who Really Matters- Christ Triumphant- is on their side. And Jesus will reign at the End, he contends, but mostly he wants to help them live more courageously today.

      Remember what Jesus said in Matthew 25 about God’s question for us in the End? It wasn’t, “Did you hold the ‘right’ beliefs- about Me or the End Times?" But rather, "What have you done to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the prisoner?" I.e. Love your neighbor? Basically, I think Paul’s right that, "The Day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night." So we shouldn't waste time worrying about when it’ll end, in what ways, etc. God's got that covered. Rather, we all should live our lives now as if (another Jesus quote), "The Kingdom of God is at hand," is alive in our midst already! So we treat neighbors with love and compassion like Jesus were standing next to us. We act humbly, with respect and forgiveness, like the darkness that still permeates life isn't the most important thing. Because it isn't! God's loving presence is, and is always around us, prepared to connect directly with us, and so inspire us to be better and love more than we would otherwise. I guess Joachim got that one right.

      Then again, we do live post-1260…eerie…

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Movement for wholeness…

2010-11-05T14:21:00.000-07:00

I write these letters weekly, and often deciding what to write is half the challenge. Some weeks, the subject is obvious- something happened, or will happen, that needs addressing. Other weeks, finding an appropriate topic is like pulling teeth. But this week’s subject is one I’ve been sitting on since September. In part, I wasn’t entirely sure what to write. Mostly, though, I didn’t want bad timing to get in the way. I began pondering it after receiving an email from our denomination’s “News Service.” It read, “For Immediate Release,” which sounded important and urgent, so I read on. It turns out that our denomination’s leader, Rev. Dr. Sharon Watkins, had a request for Disciples churches- that we hold conversations, in our churches, about immigration, on or around Columbus Day.

This request surprised me, especially its For Immediate Release format. Last week, I got another such email, announcing major staff reductions at our denominational HQ. That issue seemed more obviously suited For Immediate Release. ‘Immigration Conversations,’ though certainly important for faithful people to undertake, felt to me somehow, well, less urgent…

I was also concerned about the news release’s timing. In case you didn’t notice (of course you did!), it’s an election year, and ‘immigration’ isn’t just a spiritual topic, but a political one. People in both major parties use it to build support, and lash out at opponents. Some attempts work, some don’t, and too many from all sides of this issue (I think) are demagogic and mean. But something that seems true is that, whatever one’s perspective, immigration can stir up deep, deep emotions.

Maybe that reason- its emotional power- is why our denominational leaders want us to broach the topic. Something our church does well (or should) is unite people with differing ideologies and beliefs. And not with the expectation that we’d eventually kowtow to one viewpoint, but that we’d respectfully, honestly listen and respond to each other, even if the topic is one- like immigration- our society has trouble talking about amicably. In that sense, we can be a witness to the broader public about Christ’s love; how it doesn’t demand conformity, but is inclusive of many differences. We are, “a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world.”

But the reason I didn’t mention this before Columbus Day, as requested, is, frankly, I didn’t want elections to get in the way of doing church. I firmly believe we can and should talk about political and social issues at church; exploring together God’s role in our civic participation, without defaming each other or acting partisan. And as a pastor ordained in a congregation full of first/second generation immigrant families, I have interest in this particular topic. Nevertheless, counting as a blessing that our church has folk from different political persuasions (not many places where that happens anymore!), I didn’t think the month leading up to a national election was the right time. Our denominational leaders did; they may know something I don’t. But I figured we’d do the issue better justice, if anyone wanted to discuss it all, once partisan attacks on our radios and TVs ceased, and the environment was better suited for respectful discourse.

And again, I don’t know if y’all even care about this?! We could discuss it in Sunday School, after church 2x a month, in a mid-week forum at a coffee shop/bar. Perhaps you’ll just email me your thoughts, and I’ll compile them in another pastoral letter. Or maybe, despite the invitation, we don’t consider this important. But I think one of my jobs is to help our church connect to the denomination’s wider life. So having received this request from our leaders, I felt I should pass it on.

So what do you think? Do you want to talk- formally or not- with PCCCers about immigration? If not, why not? If so, how, or what would you want to say? They’ve provided resources to get started, or we can go our own way (Us? Shocking!). But mostly, I hope you’ll think about God’s role in your civic participation, and perhaps thank God we can have strong political disagreements at all in this country.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Finding our voice… (November Creeksider)

2010-11-01T07:50:00.000-07:00

It’s a mantra in certain educational circles, that the goal of teaching isn’t so much that youth and children memorize certain facts and information, but that they’d ‘find their voices.’ Yes, yes, times tables and basic grammar are crucial to achieving basic educational competency. But beyond that, say in history class, is it absolutely vital that a child remember all 10 amendments in the Bill of Rights? Or learn how to think critically about their understanding of, say, our First Amendment guarantees of free speech and assembly? Some would choose option a), others option b). I side with the latter, basically because information like “What’s in the Bill of Rights” is so easily accessible in this internet/iPhone age, that I’d prefer youth and children learn to think for themselves, rather than memorize a bunch of stuff. But again, I respect the many opinions in that debate.

I bring it up, though, to ask a simple question about our congregation- “Are we finding our voice, as a community of faith?”

Sure, we’re over three decades old, but like most churches, we’ve ebbed and flowed in terms of “Why do we do church,” and I think I was called, over two years ago, to help us rediscover an answer. In short, I think we are definitely ‘finding our voice,’ but I want to y’all to think again about why that even matters. And in order to make this discussion specific, let’s use an object lesson: IOCP.

You probably know that IOCP stands for Interfaith Outreach and Community Partners, and for most of the Northwestern suburbs (including most of Plymouth), they’re the foodshelf/social service agency we rely on to help our most desperate neighbors in need. They don’t meet all the housing/hunger needs of this community, alas, but they get close, and do amazing work. Well, every year, their major fundraiser is called the Sleep Out, and local businesses, churches, scout troops, etc., will sleep outside on various nights to raise funds and awareness for suburban homelessness and affordable housing. Our church will join in Saturday, November 20- sleeping on our lawn in boxes, tents, parked cars, and having a great time for a good cause. Please join us! Or if not, give to a sleeper.

But there’s another way we’re helping the 2010 Sleep Out. For the whole campaign (Nov. 12-Dec. 12), our church sign will track the growing amount of money raised, and what’s still needed to meet our community’s needs. This year, the goal is to help 900 families by raising $1.8 million dollars. And PCCC has committed to informing everyone who drives by our church how we all are doing.

“But couldn’t we use that sign for other things- advertising your sermons, our Thanksgiving service, making cutsy jokes?” Sure, but I think this is more important. After all, one of our church values is joyfully serving our neighbors in need. And if challenging our neighbors to give more for housing assistance will help (and I think it will), then, by golly, let’s do it! But beyond the Sleep Out campaign, I see a growing pattern. Reaching out to neighbors through the Sleep Out and the Blessing of the Animals; organizing groups to learn about the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Maple Grove Hindu Temple; the annual Women’s Tea and an upcoming Wine to Water fundraiser for international water security. Our church is slowly but surely reaching out in greater and louder ways to show people what a cool community this is. One that’s open to new ways of thinking and fresh ways of doing church. One that spends as much, if not more time worrying about helping others as helping ourselves. We can, and should, reach out more, and better, and I urge your help. But let’s be honest folks: We’re finding our voice- a proclamation of Christian faith that is open, service-oriented and ecstatic about serving God and others. Let’s keep it up! And serve more, and speak louder- on the church sign, through exciting new events, in stories we tell to people we meet, because we’re just that happy about what God’s doing with our intimate, wonderful church.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Reaching out…

2010-10-29T07:26:00.000-07:00

Last Spring, I became an official Board member of the Greater Minneapolis Council of Churches. They needed a Disciples of Christ representative; I’m a DoC pastor; someone gave them my name; it worked out. And I’m constantly fighting the urge to find it rather ridiculous.

Not the organization! I mean, it’s the largest Council of Churches in the country (budget and programming-wise). It began and coordinates the MN FoodShare (the March fund and food raising drive that provides over half the resources for all of MN’s foodshelves). They facilitate more volunteers than any other organization in the state (some through direct programs, others indirectly through their many social service partners). And they have an unparalleled record with advocating and resourcing Native people (Minnesota’s most at-risk demographic, besides refugees),
overcoming racism (their recently opened Center for Families provides creative and meaningful support to Minneapolis’ six major West African ethnic groups) and, as their slogan claims, “Uniting people of faith to serve people in need”. As you can tell, I’m impressed; they do what church should do, in the beyond-worship sense. And I’m a Board Member. That’s what seems ridiculous.

Usually, in my view, Board members of such organizations are either a) Influential professionals in the field- so there are bishops and other bigwig preachers on the Board, or b) Wealthy donors who want to get more involved with this non-profit they believe in. I’m 29, less than five years out of Divinity School, and as my wife and the IRS can tell you, nowhere close to ‘wealthy’. But since our denomination helped establish and fund GMCC over the decades, we have a place at the table.
And I was willing, so they brought me in. When talking with the Executive Director, Garry Reierson, about what I could bring to the Board, he quipped, “By your presence, you’ve reduced our average
age substantially.” I said, “Just trying to help!”

Anyway, I bring it up because I tried recently to put that unique quality- my age- to good use. I met with their marketing team about reaching out to Young Adults. GMCC, like many churches and church-related organizations, has an aging volunteer and donor base. Partly that’s natural, reflecting demographic shifts throughout society. But it’s also a function of what I described in the meeting as, “YA’s, broadly, don’t trust institutions, especially religious ones. They want to help their neighbors, do good, but without someone loading them down with ‘God junk’.” And that wasn’t anything this quality team didn’t know, but the point remains- My generation doesn’t trust church, or as is sometimes sneeringly stated, “organized religion.”

Why is that? I’d love to hear your thoughts. I think, in no particular order:

- The institutional church has done some real stupid things in the past- distant and recent- without adequately repenting, or celebrating and accentuating the good things.

- YA’s have grown up accustomed to and excited by pluralism and relativism, and many churches have trouble embracing that.

- When we walk into churches, we’re greeted with, “We really need you; help us out,” rather than, “Tell me about yourself; how we can help you?”

But most of all, I’m coming to wonder, is whether churches are offering what people my age need. Some churches do a good job of guessing what we like- Loud music, top-notch digital programming, services using U2 music. But Jesus wasn’t ever just about feeding peoples desires. He was also, and perhaps primarily, involved with feeding hungry mouths and souls, i.e. giving us what we need. And I doubt that’s changed much as generation has passed onto generation- we need sustenance, forgiveness, intimacy with God and others, a purpose in life. And that’s what church is supposed to deliver. So maybe churches should stop worrying about what YAs like and want, and start talking more honestly, non-judgmentally, compassionately about how Jesus and Church have given us what we, personally, have needed, throughout our lives. That would require serious vulnerability, I know, extra time, and a healthy dose of humble authenticity. But fortunately, that’s something Jesus thought highly of. And they’re values that resonate with my generation…

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Will one will…

2010-10-20T11:37:00.001-07:00

One of our youth texted me last week- “I got a deep question, when you have the chance.” So on Sunday we chatted, and the question was deep indeed! “Shane, in your opinion, what’s the soul?” This about five minutes before service started. Certainly time for an adequate answer, right?! Well, I tried, but wanted to say more. So I’m writing about it today; I’ll be curious for your responses.

Here’s my two cents: Like a good preacher, my first instinct is, “Let’s do a word study!” (Insert YAWN here- but please bear with me) The Greek word for ‘soul’ is yuch or psyche (pronounced p-sue-kay), which has a complicated history. Mostly, I think people regard it as an invisible, immortal spirit-person living “inside” the body, who goes onto some afterlife judgment or reward, depending on how good that body acted. Some even consider that spirit-person/soul the only important part about us.

But, the eternal question seems to be, how does the soul affect our lives/bodies? Well, if you believe Plato, it’s through our brains, or as he says, Reason. Always battling the emotions, appetites and will (which Plato doesn’t think highly of), in a perfect world Reason controls things, producing the cardinal virtues- wisdom, courage, temperance, justice. That’s the soul doing its job, for which it should receive eternal reward.

Sound fanciful? Maybe…but consider hymn #254 in our Hymnal, Verse 2- “Breathe on me, Breath of God, until my heart is pure, until with thee I will one will, to do and to endure.” There’s yearning here that our lives (souls?) align with God’s holiness and virtue, and it’s especially interesting that the hymn identifies “breath” as the way that occurs. In Hebrew (the other Biblical language), the word we translate soul, ruach, is also translated as wind and/or breath. So the Breath or Spirit of God is what moved over the waters “in the beginning” to form order and life; it guided the people to liberation and remains the very life-force of life itself.

Think about it- when living things have breath, we live. When breathing stops, life stops. So breath and spirit (or soul) are related, in this way of thinking, as if breath is the outward symbol of our inner life- our very own tidbit of eternity. How does the soul, then, affect our lives/bodies? Imagine a downed electric wire. When electricity moves through it, the wire jumps and sparks- it’s animated by electricity- but when the current’s turned off, the wire lays flat. Such is another idea about our soul; the animating life-force of life.

On one level, these two ideas aren’t very far apart. But I love the emphasis that the Hebrew vision puts on the body as the spirit’s rightful home, not some temporary holding place. There is no unavoidable war between soul and body; it’s all one. Plato, and the many Christians he influenced (especially St. Paul), were wrong, I think, about the emotions and appetites. Yes, they can be dangerous and manipulative. But so can Reason. Besides, as any lover or musician will attest, our emotional life has much greater opportunity for joy and excitement than our intellectual pursuits. If our soul operates primarily through Reason, Heaven will be a boring place! Even for a philosophy major like me…

Rather, think of our passions, desires, hopes and fears as part and parcel to the human adventure; intended by God to be embraced prudently, not treated as obstacles to overcome. Indeed, maybe it’s in suitably integrating our hearts and heads- not suppressing either one with the other- that the soul’s true affect is found. “Breathe on me, Breath of God, fill me with life anew, that I may love what Thou dost love, and do what Thou wouldst do.”

As for the soul and Heaven, well, here’s where I think Paul’s right on- as you can’t see the glory of a tree by looking at its seed, so we can’t see the wonder of paradise by looking at life now. We’re just convinced it’ll be glorious, because the Breath of life will surround us all from everlasting to everlasting. Glory be to God!

Grace and Peace,

Shane

Effective idealism…

2010-10-15T06:00:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday was my birthday, and I want to thank you for your birthday cards and well wishes! I received some at the church, others somehow made it to my home, despite the fact they were all addressed to the same wrong address. Which was rather humorous. To clarify, my address is 3711 Joppa Ave. S, not 3771. Unless you’re letter disagrees with my sermons, then send it to…well, I guess I’ll take those too. In any event, it was a fun birthday, especially because of the support of great people like you.

Being now almost 30 (insert disingenuous ‘old man’ joke here), I reflected this week on my current life situation, and how different it is from anything I imagined in my youth. I suspect I’m not the only one. My earliest memories of ‘projecting my ideal future’ involve me playing tight end for the Denver Broncos at age 29, or perhaps small forward for the Denver Nuggets. Alas, despite conventional wisdom to the contrary, those dreams were rather fanciful. But they changed at some point, and I then imagined I’d spend my twenties traveling the world, digging up dinosaur bones. Of course, that was before I knew that, if I’d gone that route, I would’ve likely still been in school at 30!

But again, my idealized future changed, and the older I got, the more realistic my dreams became. Or at least, I began to plan intermediate, measurable steps that would take me there, rather than just hopes and prayers. So I soon decided to become a brain surgeon, which, I admit, was still a reach. But I believed I could do it, and studied hard, and always took more science courses than required, sooner then required (ask me about the funny story of being the only freshman in biology class, when the teacher made a joke about genetics, my blue eyes and the mailman…). And when that ideal future changed, to the ministry path I’m currently on, I made the appropriate change in class schedules, college major and salary expectations. Still, even then, I couldn’t have imagined where I’d be now- married to a wonderful woman, serving a great church and living in Minnesota. Life takes you down unexpected paths, which sometimes exceed expectations.

Anyway, all that is prelude to the point of today’s letter, which is trying to convince you to take a survey for the Worship Team. As you might know, our Worship Team has spent the past year working very hard to help make our church’s fundamental activity as rich and moving as possible. Slowly but surely, we’re discerning an ideal future for our worship culture that is constantly creative, open, multicultural and familiar, all at the same time! That’s quite a task, and will take many months, even years. But we believe worship is so important, it’s worth the patience and devotion these wonderful people are giving it. Be sure to thank them, when you can, and especially our Leader, Martha Francis.

But as I discovered about effective dreaming, the older I became, it works best if you identify intermediate steps in the process, and then regularly assess your progress toward those goals. Which is just a wordy way of saying, “Make sure what you’re doing is worth it.” Hence our survey. We’ve tried some new things in recent months during worship, related to these goals for the future, and we’d like your feedback. After all, effective changes in our worship culture only matter if our fellow worshippers- members and guests- feel closer to God, each other and their neighbors as a result. So we’ll include some printed surveys in our bulletins over the next few Sundays, and have created an internet version which you can complete by clicking this link, if that’s easiest for you. All responses are confidential, so please be honest. And whatever your response, I hope you trust that Plymouth Creek’s worship leadership- the Team members, Jeremae and myself- consider serving you in this fashion, and exploring the power of God’s presence with you, among our greatest gifts. We’ve got a bright future together, I believe, wherever God feels fit to lead us!

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Rest…

2010-10-08T06:00:00.000-07:00

Who isn’t always longing for another quote from St. Augustine? Well, here’s one- “You have made us for yourself, Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”

I spent last week on retreat, again, this time in a Catholic Retreat Center just south of Boston. Along a bay, looking over the Atlantic, surrounded by the lush foliage of New England, hesitantly shedding its greens for yellows, and summer warmth with rain. Glorious. For those who don’t know, I take these retreats bi-annually, as part of a group in our denomination called The Bethany Fellows. The organization’s purpose is to nurture and support young adult Disciples clergy, so they bring us (about 40) to retreat centers around the country for a week every six months. There, we worship, laugh, share stories, learn and, my favorite, spend Wednesday in silence. I believe Don’s (the Bethany leader) idea is that good ministers need deep spirits, and he wants to show us how to get there. As well he should, being one of the deepest souls I know. Ever heard someone quote Philippians 1 from memory- and not just as a rote repetition, but as if those words blaze in the oven of his soul? I have, because Don is that kind of Christian. And these regular weeks of tutelage from that wellspring renew me for ministry more than I can articulate.

This time, during silence, I began reading a book on contemporary spirituality by a thoughtful, open-minded, deep-spirited Catholic priest named Ronald Rolheiser. Its title is “The Holy Longing: The Search for a Christian Spirituality,” and if anyone’s interested in more active spirituality, pick it up. Fr. Rolheiser wrote for all Christians, not simply professional ministers. Heck, I’m enjoying it so much, I’d love to discuss it with you. Anyone up for a book group? Let me know the time and tavern (or coffee shop!), and I’ll be there.

Anyway, back to Augustine, because Rolheiser makes that quote central to his book. Simply put- he believes we’re all restless, so our great spiritual task is learning what to do with this restlessness.

For some, he suggests, we give too much into the restlessness, running all over- volunteer appointment to Board Meeting to Yoga class to Dog Park- trying to experience everything and never slowing down, hoping that somehow, at some point, we’ll end up feeling fulfilled. And we don’t. Because we don’t take time enough to rest in places that can truly “restoreth my soul.”

For others, he claims, the restless impulse isn’t embraced, but suppressed, medicated through foreign substances or mindless TV or late-night Sudoku marathons on the computer. At such times, we’re not sucking the marrow out of life, but are staring at life blankly, like a reluctant date at a community theatre production. But that doesn’t mean we’re rested or content. Often, far from it. We’ve traded the anxiety-ridden feeling of restlessness, for the numbing fog of avoidance or survival.

And at different points in life, either path may be fine. Doing lots of stuff can mean you’re growing and expanding your soul, while contributing to God’s good world. Detaching from the hustle and bustle, letting life continue without your active contribution after, say, finishing a huge project, or experiencing great loss, that can be just what the doctor ordered. But in neither case is life fully balanced. Over time, we want to channel our restlessness- our unrelenting passions- into healthy, creative, unselfish ventures, while seeking places to finally, truly rest.

“Our hearts are restless until they rest in you,” Augustine prayed. And I think he’s right. In God’s presence, we can experience solitude and relationship, active creativity and holy Sabbath. Restless passion can transform into loving ministry, restlessness into rest. Or at least, Rolheiser contends, that’s the promise of Christian spirituality. Not just thinking deep thoughts, or praying pretty prayers, but achieving self-sustaining, ever-renewing balance between rest and activity.

What would that look like in practice? Well, I’m still on chapter three! But it seems worth pondering. How do you find rest in God, and receive energy to live and love with abandon? Or perhaps, to use another term, Spiritual Balance?

Grace and Peace,
Shane

…there is a season… (October Creeksider)

2010-10-01T07:53:00.000-07:00

The third pastoral letter I wrote our church began with the above quote from Ecclesiastes (or, depending on your preference, the American folk-rock band, “The Byrds”). I spoke about transitions, and the seasons of ministry we go through- as individuals, as churches, as families- and how the ancient wisdom of Ecclesiastes should lead us to embrace such seasons of change as part of God’s design. Not rebel against change as unnatural. Nor assume that any one seasonal change will be the final word, forever. We may not always like what’s in season, of course. But things always ‘turn, turn, turn,” or as the words of Solomon’s Ring suggest, “This too shall pass.” Whatever “this” is.

Well, a change in our season of ministry as a church is near. Some of you know this already, but everyone should know, because it impacts us all. Thy Word Worship Center, the Apostolic faith church who began ministry in our building almost four years ago, will be leaving very soon. I can’t say exactly when that will occur, although it’s most likely that October 31 will be Thy Word’s final Sunday here.

As often happens with any significant change, my heart feels heavy and sad about this situation. Although Thy Word is certainly a dissimilar church than Plymouth Creek, who hold different expectations about worship, and teach some different ideas about Christian faith, they are our sisters and brothers in Jesus, and so they will be missed. Indeed, it’s never been us v. them. It’s all ‘Us.’ And when part of ‘us’ leaves, we should feel some loss and sadness. Yes, as a result, our church building will be more available for programming that can help Plymouth Creek move forward and realize God’s fullest vision for our church. I look forward to turning that opportunity into reality with you in many ways. But before we move on, it’s important, for ourselves and our building partners-in-ministry, to reflect on the good we did together, and why I’m sad to see this end.

Plymouth, Minnesota has not been an historical hotbed for multiculturalism, although that’s fast changing. Elementary school principals say that their classroom compositions in recent years have become much more diverse as more African-American and Latino families move into this area. Which means, as our neighbors claim a wider array of ethnic heritages, our suburb will have to adapt its understanding about how race dynamics matter in our lives. One such adaptation, of course, will be among churches. Do we continue to worship in styles that solely reflect white church culture, and thus reach out to a diminishing percentage of our neighbors? Or will we attempt to adapt, and make our church more open? No easy answer to that. But one solution we’ve helped implement over the past four years was to nurture and support an African-American new church start in Plymouth, when there was none before. It’s been trying at times, glorious at others, but in the end, that Thy Word maintains its viability and vibrancy as a church is something for all to be proud of, and to thank God for helping make happen.

But this very success is the reason for the change. Thy Word has grown to a point that the limitations we all have to accept as partners in this facility are no longer an asset, but a liability. Jesus’ Table has no limit for how many people can fit around it. Our church building, however, can only fit so many! So to ensure the continued growth of both communities, we made the decision to change our relationship, and worship in separate facilities. Where that will be for Thy Word? I can’t answer that yet, alas. But as their pastors told me, “Shane, God will make a way. God put us here in Plymouth. God needs us here in Plymouth. So we will continue to serve Plymouth and show the love of Jesus, wherever the final building ends up being.”

Amen. My translation- This change in season, despite the falling leaves around us, will usher in Spring for both our churches. A time for hope.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

I Sing of Peace…

2010-09-24T07:50:00.000-07:00

I’d imagine the central-eastern countryside of France, circa 1940, was a troubling home. I’m no expert, but what little I know doesn’t paint a pretty picture. Devastating signs of war littered the towns and hills. Enemy German troops controlled the country, plunging the people’s identity into conflict. For these rural folk, far outside the occupied Paris, perhaps there was some semblance of normalcy. But not much., I’d guess For it was there, in a desolate village named Taize (in the Bourgogne district, if you know French geography, aka three hours southeast of Paris), a Swiss monastic named Brother Roger bought a house, to shelter war refugees.

Bold move, if you ask me, especially since he also hid Jews. Which some nearby Nazis found out apparently, and Roger returned to Switzerland in late 1942 to save his skin. While there, he advertised his little house- said it wasn’t simply a refuge for the war-torn, but an emerging Christian community- and in 1944, after the Allied liberation, returned to his Taize home with some new residents and friends. Well, one thing followed another, and this quasi-monastic community kept growing. Soon there were Catholics, Anglicans, Protestants, and Orthodox, all committed to living simply, poorly, and with kindness and love as their rule. The goal- Show the world that reconciliation and peace are possible, and through their ‘parable of community’ teach that God is love, and love alone. Brother Roger, by the way, was 26 when he founded the Taize Community. And from those humble, youthful days (i.e. wide-eyed and optimistic, despite the world’s nastiness and horror), Taize has become an international pilgrimage site for young adult Christians, leading weeklong retreats of prayer and peace for over 100,000 people a year. In fact, they’ve gone international; set up houses in other countries to serve the poor and teach deep spirituality. I’m a fan. A big one. In case you haven’t noticed.

Alas, I haven’t been to Taize myself, yet. Although if anyone’s desperate to buy a plane ticket to France, I’ll give you my travel agent’s number. But I’ve experienced the depth and richness of their spirituality through the musical tradition they created. You may have too, by the way. PCCC currently sings three Taize-written songs regularly. I’ve also written about their musical style in this space. So you may be wondering, “Shane, why mention these guys…again?” Good question. Here’s my answer: Jeremae, our Music Minister, said so.

Context? Given my love for this music (meditative, repetitive songs, that are so simple to grasp and sing, your singing quickly transforms into prayerful listening to God…if you’re open to it…), I wanted our church to learn it better. So I’ve asked Jeremae and the choir to help us incorporate more Taize music into our worship life. Every week through Advent, we’ll sing at least one Taize song, so that by Christmas, we’ll have 10 in our regular singing rotation. When I asked Jeremae to help lead this, she, as usual, said, “Great! I’m flexible, and we can be really creative with this! But will you, Shane, tell our church the story of this music? It’s good to accompany change with a fuller explanation…”

And she’s right. Yes, we’ve sung Taize songs now for over a year. But did you know it’s multicultural music, written in many languages? Or from a monastery dedicated to reconciliation and peace? Or that it’s inspired millions of young adults, across six decades, to encounter God through mystery, simplicity and meditative prayer, and so serve the world’s needs more deeply? Again, I think that’s incredible, even inspiring. And if it’s worked such magic for others, why not us?

So that’s the story; what remains is implementation. And who knows? Maybe y’all won’t dig it like I do. But I hope that, after this three-month experiment, we’ll know better as a church what moves us deeply. Because in the end, Brother Roger’s legacy isn’t just a songbook of pretty music. It’s the conviction that Christians in community can serve, inspire and even change the world. And it’s always a good time we let that conviction work its way deeper into our souls, again.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

The aftermath…

2010-09-17T07:46:00.000-07:00

Mine was a generation supposed to have been defined by 9/11/2001. Or that’s how one theory went. They said all generations have a “You remember where you were when…” moment, and the Twin Towers’ destruction was apparently mine. My Dad remembers the days JKF and MLK were shot. My grandparents had Pearl Harbor seared in their memory. And those moments, some say, can define a generation, change our collective consciousness…

But there’re other theories, like that promulgated by Tom Brokaw’s famous book, The Greatest Generation (vignettes about those who lived through and fought the Second World War). In this theory, historic moments do help shape people, but more important is their response- the positive lessons learned and applied. So after WWII, our nation witnessed an economic and institutional boom. Churches expanded rapidly. Colleges too. People, full of optimism and entrepreneurial courage, thought, “By golly, we won overseas! So let’s make life better here too!” In other words, this theory goes, what ultimately shapes us are responses to shared events, not just events themselves.

And my generation, apparently, was supposed to respond to 9/11- to learn something valuable and apply it. What that is isn’t yet apparent to me. But given the date and recent events, I’ll tell you what I hope for:

I experienced 9/11/01 and now two wars in predominately-Muslim countries, while preparing to be a religious leader. It seemed reasonable to me, therefore, to study Islam as much as possible. I’m no scholar, certainly, since I focused mostly on Christianity (of course!). But I’m not ignorant of the religion, and have learned to love and respect it.

Islam means “submission,” deriving from the Prophet Mohammed’s central insight that our common goal- a lifelong struggle (aka jihad) of the soul- is submitting our whole self the will and mercy of God. That takes regular prayer, worship, almsgiving, and reverence for an authority (the Qur’an and the Prophet’s teachings) higher than yourself. Over the years, like Christianity, turning theory into practice produced mixed results. It’s been distorted by the violent, misappropriated by the greedy and powerful, and brutalized women in systemic ways. But also like Christianity, the application of Islam by everyday people has been overwhelmingly a source of strength in a difficult world, and an avenue to connect with God.

So it frustrates me when people say nasty things about Muslims, as if they’re all the same, and all terrorists. One critique goes, “Read the Qur’an. It’s horrific.” I have read the Qur’an, and like the Bible, it’s full of conflicting ideas, but an overarching message of goodness. And besides, it’s never enough to assume you understand another’s faith tradition by reading their holy book. In Christianity, we’ve inherited nineteen post-Biblical centuries of experiences, beliefs and ideas about God. Heck, it took us 300 years to formulate the Trinity! And once that happened, we disagreed again, sometimes violently. Of course, that violence was about much more- land, wealth, natural resources- like most religious conflict. But the main point is we don’t know ourselves as Christians by only reading the Bible. So we should apply the same standard to Islam and others.

Which returns me to the larger issue- How would I like my generation defined? We have fingertip access to more information now than ever before. We can connect with other cultures, people, religions and ideas with as little as a youtube video or twitter feed. My hope is we use that power for good, especially by taking time to learn from others before condemning them or burning their sacred texts. On that horrible 9/11/01 day, I learned, for the first time, the power of perverted faith. So as a person of deep faith, I vowed to be a beacon of something more loving, like my Savior instructed. I’ve befriended people of different faiths, learned their best ideas and hopes. I don’t let people demean others’ faith convictions in my presence. I could still do that better, as can many my age. But if we do, and so increase the world’s compassion and understanding, regardless our many differences, we may not be the ‘Greatest Generation,’ but I’d be proud to play a part.

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Days of Awe…

2010-09-10T07:37:00.000-07:00

First of all, let me say that last month’s letters about worship were fun for me. A good chance to explore different ideas about my favorite part of church. As I mentioned in the August 12 letter, I have a deep love for the Taize worship tradition. I believe its simple, beautiful melodies and repetitive words help us put aside the clutter we bring into worship, and arrive more fully into God’s presence. So this Fall, we’ll explore that tradition in greater depth, singing one Taize song per week. Meaning by Advent, hopefully, we’ll have added some new songs, and a new genre of contemporary, multi-cultural (Taize is a monastery in France) music to our worship life!

But this week, I want to bring your attention to the Days of Awe. That inspired phrase is the Jewish description of the ten days from Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, i.e. the holiest days of the Jewish Year. For those who don’t know, Rosh Hashanah is actually two days, and celebrates the “Jewish New Year” (although, according to jewfaq.org- “This name is somewhat deceptive, because there is little similarity between Rosh Hashanah…and the American midnight drinking bash and daytime football game”!). Yom Kippur occurs a week and a half later, and is the “Day of Atonement.” Now if this sounds out of left field, let me remind you we’re in the midst of the Days of Awe. Rosh Hashanah began at sunset Wednesday, September 8, and Yom Kippur ends at sundown, on the 18th. Something felt somehow more…awe-some…didn’t it?

My Jewish buddy Andrew, who makes guest appearances in this space, has sometimes referred to himself as a “Three-day-a-year Jew.” This means his Temple attendance typically is restricted to these High Holy Days- Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. In Christianland, we’ve sometimes paid joking tribute to our own attendance-limited sisters and brothers, calling them, “Chreasters,” i.e. Christmas and Easter Christians. I’d, of course, advocate more regular worship, from both Andrew and our Chreaster friends, but annual attendance is still something, and it highlights an important fact about Abrahamic religious traditions: We have a profound reverence for time.

Abraham Heschel, the great 20th Century Jewish Rabbi, wrote a beautiful book called The Sabbath, in which he contrasts sacred space with sacred time. Most people find certain places spiritually significant; a sanctuary, beautiful mountain, a certain room in childhood homes. But in the Creation story, God designates a day, a moment of time, holy and set apart. As the Sabbath approaches, therefore, we’re invited to enter through its door into a ‘room’ of 24 hours, when we can experience greater holiness than the other days of the week. But it’s more than that. Annually, we perceive more spiritual power in certain periods time than others. Our sisters and brothers of Islamic faith just completed an observance of the spiritual power of time. Their holy month of Ramadan ended Friday, so for the past month they’ve fasted, prayed and offered hospitality to neighbors in their annual search to live more submissively to their understanding of God’s desires.

Which makes me wonder- Why do certain times contain more ‘awe’ and sacred potential than others? My provisional answer for the space remaining- memory. Some memories just carry more spiritual freight- times we felt God more fully, or when we believe God did something profound. Through memory, in effect, time can stand still, and the blessed hopes or facts of what was can be again. At our core, we believe God doesn’t stand outside of time, but through the vast array of human history, of our time here on earth, God got involved. Which suggests that all the time ahead of us still isn’t just meaningless or dull, but always saturated with the possibility that God will do something awe-some again. So whenever we take time to revere the memories of holy days past, it’s not simply a celebration of what was, but a commitment to seek in the time ahead more awe and righteousness than we’ve seen yet. May your coming week, therefore, be seven days of awe. And the week after that. And after that. And, well, you know…

Grace and Peace,
Shane

Cuando Fluyan a la Mar…

2010-09-03T05:57:00.000-07:00

I was privileged to be ordained at Iglesia del Pueblo Christian Church in Hammond, IN. In fact, IDP was the first Disciples of Christ church I joined, so it’s quite important to me. Although, I almost never went in the first place. What happened was I, a relatively new DoC convert, was looking around the Chicago area for a DoC church to ordain me. I tried many places over multiple months, but nothing seemed ‘to fit.’ However, I needed to choose soon if I hoped to be ordained after graduation.

Then, an attractive woman at my seminary told me she’d been checking out IDP, this Disciples church just over the state line from south Chicago, and it was really cool. They spoke Spanish and English, she said, and worshiped with a praise/gospel/salsa band, and I should go with her sometime. I must say, that sounded intriguing, but very intimidating, and I agreed to go mainly because 45 minutes in the car each direction was a long time to convince her to date me.

It worked, by the way, she’s now my wife. And what’s certainly less important, but still crucial, is I loved the church, and they nurtured me down the final path to ordained ministry. But again, however neat the result in retrospect, I didn’t expect IDP ‘to fit.’ I figured I was a young, white kid who speaks minimal Spanish, so hoping a predominantly Latino congregation would partner with and love me enough to make me a reverend seemed farfetched. Until I walked in the door, and all assumptions I’d made about “Us v. Them” or “White v. Latino” disappeared, when John Cedeno vigorously greeted me, saying, “Thanks for coming! Tell me about yourself!” Great hospitality. I felt very welcome. And that helped me relax enough to learn that in the important things, IDP and I were one and the same. We both valued worship, passionate worship, above most everything else.

But similar though our values were, IDP worshiped differently than I’d experienced before. They were intentionally multicultural. This, as you might suspect, is very tricky. Across the country, only 7% of American churches are what sociologists dub “multicultural” (meaning no one ethnic group tops 80%). Indeed, White, Black, Latino or Asian Pacific-Islander, most American Christians attend church with folk who look similar, and share similar tastes in music and expectations about worship culture (expectations like service length, music volume, impromptu v. scripted prayer, vocal interaction during sermons, clapping). That’s not news, surely, but the stats highlight how strange IDP was by blending English and Spanish, Black Gospel, Salsa, White Evangelical Praise, and Old European Hymns. Or what to some seemed strange, I learned was “Glorious.”

In retrospect, I think one lesson from my IDP days sticks out most: Christians share vastly different cultures, languages, assumptions about ‘proper church behavior’ and even beliefs about Jesus, but all that’s less important than our shared desire to praise God. In whatever way we do best. My favorite IDP song remains a Spanish language Pentecostal tune called “Como Las Aguas del Rio.” Roughly translated, the words are- “Like the waters of the river when they flow to the sea/so arrives the glory of the Lord into my heart”. I think that’s possible whether you’re shouting and dancing, or silently meditating to a Celtic version of “Be Thou My Vision.”

But the point of multicultural worship isn’t simply to affirm ‘we have more in common than not.’ Nor is it, as some have suggested, rejecting your inherited culture as ‘boring’ or ‘dull’. I means using worship to affirm what Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 13:12- “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” Experiencing worship from a variety of cultures, in multiple languages, is the same thing as seeing God through another’s eyes, and from vantages we’d never achieve on our own. Or, if you will, knowing God more fully now, in anticipation of that ‘Great Getting’ Up Morning’ when it’ll all be made plain.

Grace and Peace,

Shane