I rarely watched “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood” as a child, which I now find sad. I’ve since read about it, even seen it a few of times, and it seems he was a cool guy. A former minister, so I read somewhere, turns out that one day he got fed up with the speed of children’s programming (how cartoons move so rapidly from one image to the next), and decided to make his own show.
Have you seen the show on PBS before? It’s striking how patient he is doing the simplest things- using a toy dump truck to pick up rocks, moving around in his golf cart automobile. This slowness of pace, apparently, allows children’s imaginations to insert themselves more actively into each situation, and therefore fill in parts of the story that Mr. Rogers can’t get too. After all, when operating a dump truck (or pretending to…), there’s so much more to consider than picking up and dropping rocks. You have to know (or imagine) the size of rocks, and weight, and color, and maybe why you’re doing it in the first place. Discovering those parts of the story takes time, and part of Mr. Rogers’ neighborly gift was giving children he invited into his neighborhood time enough to contribute to these stories themselves, and to let their imaginations work.
Maybe you don’t often think of imagination as a neighborly gift, but think again. I watched a wonderful movie the other day, all about the power of imagination. You’ve likely heard a thing about it- The Blindside, starring Sandra Bullock and Tim McGraw (among others). It’s basically a true story about Michael Oher, current starting right tackle for the Baltimore Ravens. Mr. Oher grew up in rough circumstances; in and out of foster homes and, for a time in high school, homeless. Eventually, though, he came to attend a Christian school, one of whose families, one day, noticed that not everything was great for “Big Mike.” In fact, they took him in, clothed him, fed him, eventually adopted him. And he went to Ole Miss on a football scholarship, won All-SEC and All-American honors, and he even made the Dean’s List before becoming a first-round NFL draft pick. It’s a beautiful story, depicting the importance of believing in yourself and others, the riskiness and transformational force of Christian love.
But it’s also about the power of imagination; about how imagination may not be something you can wrap and give to or receive from a neighbor, but if you manage to nurture it or spark it, the consequences can be life-altering. For instance, this young man didn’t believe, at first, he’d go to college, make good grades, etc. But when his circumstances began changing, he let his imagination begin changing, and that made the crucial difference. Likewise, this all-white upper class family never believed they’d adopt a large black teenager from the projects. But their imaginations broadened and they came to love him, which transformed them and even changed assumptions and perceptions around them too. Like when their uncle received a rather unexpected Christmas card…
In any event, I’m thinking this week, as many of you are too I’d bet, about our neighbors to the southeast: the devastated and poverty-stricken island nation of Haiti. Our denomination’s global mission leaders, over the past few years, have helped me learn more about Haiti’s troubling plight, as the poorest nation in our hemisphere. But like many, I’m shocked anew by the nearness of this disaster to my country. And heartbroken. And I wonder whether imagination matters in this situation. Could we have imagined the consequences of this earthquake, though we knew of their poverty? Maybe… Could we have imagined the situation’s impact on the hearts and compassions of our country, and the world? Can we imagine a better, more whole future for Haiti? Can Haitians?
I hope so, and I hope we care to seek answers to that last question when news cameras go home. Imagination will be especially powerful then, I suspect. But communities of faith, who worship a resurrected savior that still calls us to love all our neighbors, should specialize in imagination.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S.- If you want to donate, click this link- www.weekofcompassion.org/haiti
Read more!
Friday, January 22, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Go to all peoples…
I must confess. For some time, I was seriously disillusioned with the Great Commission. And I wasn’t alone. Many of my Christian (and non-Christian) pals found this aspect of Christian faith distasteful. They cringed at its exclusionary mentality. They scoffed at its seeming hubris and conceit. They were shocked by how unlovely a doctrine this Great Commission was, and considered it especially ironic for a religion that speaks so often about ‘Love.’
I say ‘they’ in the sentences above; I mean ‘we.’ For some time, I shared those concerns, and in many respects, continue to still. You might recall a story I’ve shared before, about a conversation that changed my life. I was chatting with a buddy in his car, when religion came up. I, wanting to be a ‘good Christian,’ decided this was my time to do what Jesus wanted- to convince my friend he needed to become a Christian like me. So I lectured him on everything I knew was true- stuff about sin, and God, etc.- and much of that sounded strange to my friend. He answered, “Shane, I gotta be honest, you sound really arrogant.” And it hit me. I wasn’t loving my friend or listening to him. I wasn’t even being honest about my own doubts and fears. Instead, I was doing what I thought my faith required, which was force others to accept a worldview that they just may not find liberating.
This experience was the final straw in my long-awaited break from the traditionalist religion I’d learned as a youth. Finally, I rejected the idea that the mission of Christianity was first, foremost and only about the Great Commission. Many churches think that. I once thought that. No longer, though, and for a while I even thought Christians should never share their faith, ever!
In case you’re unclear about this “Great Commission,” let me explain. At the end of Matthew, after Jesus’ resurrection, he tells his disciples, “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all peoples, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey all that I have commanded you. And lo, I will be with you always, even to the end of the age.” Like all Scripture, that gets interpreted in many ways. But a famous and powerful interpretation is the so-called “Great Commission,” i.e. that Jesus’ final order to his Disciples was to make everyone in the world become Christian, or die trying. Some even claim that churches should spend no resources, time or talents on any other mission, until all the world confesses that Jesus is Lord.
I think differently. I believe a) our faith prioritizes loving hospitality over indoctrination, and b) Matthew’s final verses mean something very different. Indeed, something valuable Christian congregations can offer our neighborhoods these days is a new example of ‘doing church’ than focusing solely on the Great Commission. For there is another way, and I think it’s amazing! The faith in Jesus that inspires me calls for intimacy between all God’s peoples, deep respect for individuality and free thought, persistent concern for justice, and compassion for the poor and lonely. I know others who’ve been inspired, even transformed by such faith. And this good news could transform many more, if only they knew…
Thus, I’m a born-again fan of these verses in Matthew, and so I chose them as the foundation for our 2010 Congregational Theme. You needn’t believe that all the world needs to be Christian in order to believe that the world needs Christians. Jesus’ brand of faith, his life, death and new life, still have transformational power. Not for everyone, of course, but surely for many. And people should know that. Christians should be proud of that. We can speak powerfully about the wonder and mystery of our faith without being either arrogant or embarrassed. I pray we learn to do that better over the next year. And so will grow as a faith community, provide greater care to our neighbors, and discover our lives and families more invigorated by the ever-present strength and love of our resurrected Lord, Jesus. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
I say ‘they’ in the sentences above; I mean ‘we.’ For some time, I shared those concerns, and in many respects, continue to still. You might recall a story I’ve shared before, about a conversation that changed my life. I was chatting with a buddy in his car, when religion came up. I, wanting to be a ‘good Christian,’ decided this was my time to do what Jesus wanted- to convince my friend he needed to become a Christian like me. So I lectured him on everything I knew was true- stuff about sin, and God, etc.- and much of that sounded strange to my friend. He answered, “Shane, I gotta be honest, you sound really arrogant.” And it hit me. I wasn’t loving my friend or listening to him. I wasn’t even being honest about my own doubts and fears. Instead, I was doing what I thought my faith required, which was force others to accept a worldview that they just may not find liberating.
This experience was the final straw in my long-awaited break from the traditionalist religion I’d learned as a youth. Finally, I rejected the idea that the mission of Christianity was first, foremost and only about the Great Commission. Many churches think that. I once thought that. No longer, though, and for a while I even thought Christians should never share their faith, ever!
In case you’re unclear about this “Great Commission,” let me explain. At the end of Matthew, after Jesus’ resurrection, he tells his disciples, “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all peoples, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey all that I have commanded you. And lo, I will be with you always, even to the end of the age.” Like all Scripture, that gets interpreted in many ways. But a famous and powerful interpretation is the so-called “Great Commission,” i.e. that Jesus’ final order to his Disciples was to make everyone in the world become Christian, or die trying. Some even claim that churches should spend no resources, time or talents on any other mission, until all the world confesses that Jesus is Lord.
I think differently. I believe a) our faith prioritizes loving hospitality over indoctrination, and b) Matthew’s final verses mean something very different. Indeed, something valuable Christian congregations can offer our neighborhoods these days is a new example of ‘doing church’ than focusing solely on the Great Commission. For there is another way, and I think it’s amazing! The faith in Jesus that inspires me calls for intimacy between all God’s peoples, deep respect for individuality and free thought, persistent concern for justice, and compassion for the poor and lonely. I know others who’ve been inspired, even transformed by such faith. And this good news could transform many more, if only they knew…
Thus, I’m a born-again fan of these verses in Matthew, and so I chose them as the foundation for our 2010 Congregational Theme. You needn’t believe that all the world needs to be Christian in order to believe that the world needs Christians. Jesus’ brand of faith, his life, death and new life, still have transformational power. Not for everyone, of course, but surely for many. And people should know that. Christians should be proud of that. We can speak powerfully about the wonder and mystery of our faith without being either arrogant or embarrassed. I pray we learn to do that better over the next year. And so will grow as a faith community, provide greater care to our neighbors, and discover our lives and families more invigorated by the ever-present strength and love of our resurrected Lord, Jesus. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Friday, January 8, 2010
Like a child…
If you’ve never been, I highly recommend a visit to the Children’s Museum in St. Paul. Bring the grandkids, the neighbors’ kids, do whatever it takes. Our hometown Children’s Museum is something Twin Cities folk should be proud of. You can trust me. I’m an uncle.
We went there recently since, as you may know, Tabitha’s family had come to town. Between everyone, there were six adults and four young boys- ages 15 months, 15 months, 3 years, and 5 years. The weekend after Christmas actually brought two trips to the Museum, my first ever encounters with that establishment. I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that one room was filled with dinosaurs (always awesome!), another had a leaf-blowing machine that occupied kids for hours, still another was involved inordinate amounts of splashing, while the highlight was when we made our very own thunderstorm. Very cool stuff. By the end of both afternoons, I was exhausted. But the energy spent was worth it, for both the children and the adults. We laughed a lot, learned some, laughed more, and experienced all kinds of wonderment and awe. It only cost nine bucks, but there’s no way to assess the full value of such moments. Who knows just how much was learned, or what skills the children began developing? Or the confidence gained? You can’t peak into kids’ heads, or their futures, and you don’t need to. The experience was worthwhile in its own right, I’m convinced, regardless how much the boys retain in their active memories.
One takeaway I do hope, however, that sticks with them is the basic philosophy of this Museum- “Sparking learning through play.” I like that idea, and wish we’d all take it more seriously. Of course, for young children, ‘play’ is a superior learning technique than the books or tests we use later in life. Without mature language or analytical skills, for children things like games, imagination and pretending do a great job of encouraging creative problem solving or teaching cooperation. That, in turn, nurtures smarter, more work-friendly children, which benefits parents, society and the kids themselves. And it’s just good fun!
The problem is that, all too often, we don’t age very effectively. Getting older means we encounter more complex and dangerous situations. Consequently, we develop more sophisticated tools for learning about or coping with these situations, and that’s good. But here’s the problem- Sometimes adults don’t build on top of what they learned as children. Rather, they replace what they learned as kids about the value of play, with the ‘more mature’ skills, emotions and learning methods they acquired as adults. Adults can discuss complex financial arrangements, psychotherapy, political scheming and American Idol, but too many neglect to play anymore. They think ‘play’ is beneath their adult dignity, something left behind in adolescence, like acne or voice cracks. I saw this at the Children’s Museum, when some parents sat off to the side, scowling at the raucous, joyous kids, as if they believed they had better things to do than jump in and join the fun. Too bad.
The truth is, however, that play could really help people nowadays, if we let it. Because something us ‘mature’ adults too often do is settle for what’s conventional and unchallenging. Rather than risk trying something off-the-wall, or using our imaginations to conceive of fantastic new ideas and dreams, we accept the limits others impose on us. We let what’s already happened dictate what will happen. And we stop having fun, the kind that makes your body quiver, or your mouth fall open wide. Play works differently. It revels in ‘what could be,’ or ‘what would be great if…’ It’s a blast! And it fosters an expectation of good things. That won’t make good stuff always happen, of course. But there’s something theologically true about believing that this life God gave you is good and filled with blessing, possibility and joy, even in the midst of pain. So I pray, this week, you’ll take time to play. Let your imagination run wild, and perhaps the Spirit will learn you something incredible. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
We went there recently since, as you may know, Tabitha’s family had come to town. Between everyone, there were six adults and four young boys- ages 15 months, 15 months, 3 years, and 5 years. The weekend after Christmas actually brought two trips to the Museum, my first ever encounters with that establishment. I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that one room was filled with dinosaurs (always awesome!), another had a leaf-blowing machine that occupied kids for hours, still another was involved inordinate amounts of splashing, while the highlight was when we made our very own thunderstorm. Very cool stuff. By the end of both afternoons, I was exhausted. But the energy spent was worth it, for both the children and the adults. We laughed a lot, learned some, laughed more, and experienced all kinds of wonderment and awe. It only cost nine bucks, but there’s no way to assess the full value of such moments. Who knows just how much was learned, or what skills the children began developing? Or the confidence gained? You can’t peak into kids’ heads, or their futures, and you don’t need to. The experience was worthwhile in its own right, I’m convinced, regardless how much the boys retain in their active memories.
One takeaway I do hope, however, that sticks with them is the basic philosophy of this Museum- “Sparking learning through play.” I like that idea, and wish we’d all take it more seriously. Of course, for young children, ‘play’ is a superior learning technique than the books or tests we use later in life. Without mature language or analytical skills, for children things like games, imagination and pretending do a great job of encouraging creative problem solving or teaching cooperation. That, in turn, nurtures smarter, more work-friendly children, which benefits parents, society and the kids themselves. And it’s just good fun!
The problem is that, all too often, we don’t age very effectively. Getting older means we encounter more complex and dangerous situations. Consequently, we develop more sophisticated tools for learning about or coping with these situations, and that’s good. But here’s the problem- Sometimes adults don’t build on top of what they learned as children. Rather, they replace what they learned as kids about the value of play, with the ‘more mature’ skills, emotions and learning methods they acquired as adults. Adults can discuss complex financial arrangements, psychotherapy, political scheming and American Idol, but too many neglect to play anymore. They think ‘play’ is beneath their adult dignity, something left behind in adolescence, like acne or voice cracks. I saw this at the Children’s Museum, when some parents sat off to the side, scowling at the raucous, joyous kids, as if they believed they had better things to do than jump in and join the fun. Too bad.
The truth is, however, that play could really help people nowadays, if we let it. Because something us ‘mature’ adults too often do is settle for what’s conventional and unchallenging. Rather than risk trying something off-the-wall, or using our imaginations to conceive of fantastic new ideas and dreams, we accept the limits others impose on us. We let what’s already happened dictate what will happen. And we stop having fun, the kind that makes your body quiver, or your mouth fall open wide. Play works differently. It revels in ‘what could be,’ or ‘what would be great if…’ It’s a blast! And it fosters an expectation of good things. That won’t make good stuff always happen, of course. But there’s something theologically true about believing that this life God gave you is good and filled with blessing, possibility and joy, even in the midst of pain. So I pray, this week, you’ll take time to play. Let your imagination run wild, and perhaps the Spirit will learn you something incredible. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Love thy enemy…
Because you, probably, didn’t grow up in Colorado, you can’t know how big it is for me to take this week’s vacation. Like last year, we’re meeting another married couple for a week-long ski vacation. These are pals from seminary- she’s a pastor, he’s a construction manager. [Random, but related story- When I told this to one of our members, who will remain unnamed, she responded, “Shane, don’t you have any friends who are hookers?” “WHAT?!?!” I responded. And she explained, “Well, you’re always spending time with other pastors. I just wondered if you had other kinds of friends.” “Oh! That’s what you meant,” I answered. “You caught me way off guard. But be warned, since you went there, I’m quoting you in an upcoming letter.” And so I did. Just another reason I love my job- the unexpected things Plymouth Creekers come up with!]
Anyway, the major change from last year is that this time we’ve decided to forgo Colorado for a week in Lake Tahoe, California- site of the 1960 Winter Olympics, in case anyone forgot. And like I alluded to above, this is a big step for me. Growing up in Colorado, I spent countless hours blustering and bellowing to any within earshot that no skiing in North America could compare to the Rockies. And that was double true for California! For some reason, the mythology of the ski slopes I grew up skiing included a belief that overcrowding was always a function of vacationers from Texas and California (which we felt justified a special disdain for those states). Then, my sister moved to California, and my Colorado-inspired, passionate denunciations of the West Coast only increased in antipathy and volume.
I, of course, had never skied in California, nor had I tested whether the California-tourist hypothesis held water. But really, that was beside the point. Sometimes your loyalties to one place or thing aren’t rational or well reasoned. They’re visceral, instinctual, the product of love and upbringing, not careful analysis or intellectual acuity. So if you told Younger Shane that one day he’d intentionally bypass a Colorado ski trip for…gasp…California. Well, let’s just say you’d have to bring tissues to wipe his nose, and have patience as he tried desperately to overcome his self-disappointment.
It’s a humorous image to ponder, and mostly tongue-in-cheek, of course. But those memories and the impending vacation have me thinking about ‘enemies,’ and especially Jesus’ quote above. Whenever I’m tempted to consider Jesus an everyday guy who never wanted to mix things up, I force myself to remember this quote: “Truly you’ve heard it said, ‘Love your friends, but hate your enemies.’ But I say unto you, ‘Love thy enemy, and pray for those that persecute you.’” It’s a remarkable claim, right?! Radical, even, and not always welcome. I guess when Jesus claimed God’s love was available to all people, indiscriminately, he really meant it.
So what does it mean to love your enemy? Notice that Jesus doesn’t say, “Pretend your enemy is your friend.” That would be foolish, and untrue, and Jesus believed in truth. Nor does Jesus say, “Ignore your enemy, and hope s/he goes away.” That wouldn’t help, because if your enemy is a true enemy, they won’t ignore you, even if you ignore them.
No, Jesus instructs us to love our enemies, and love is an active verb. We’re called to engage these destructive forces and people, albeit constructively, hopefully, and wisely. Can you both fight an enemy and love them? Is it responsible to do otherwise?! I know people whose greatest enemy is addiction. How do you love that enemy? You fight it, of course, though Jesus likely meant people, rather than psychological forces… And what about these recent terrorist attacks, or attempts. Love that enemy? On what grounds? To what end?
No answers today, just comments I hope provoke ideas of your own. Send your thoughts my way. If I get enough, I’ll write a follow-up that includes our collective wisdom on this thorny topic. In the meantime, may your week be lovely, and may you love all you meet. Even your enemies, whomever they are. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Anyway, the major change from last year is that this time we’ve decided to forgo Colorado for a week in Lake Tahoe, California- site of the 1960 Winter Olympics, in case anyone forgot. And like I alluded to above, this is a big step for me. Growing up in Colorado, I spent countless hours blustering and bellowing to any within earshot that no skiing in North America could compare to the Rockies. And that was double true for California! For some reason, the mythology of the ski slopes I grew up skiing included a belief that overcrowding was always a function of vacationers from Texas and California (which we felt justified a special disdain for those states). Then, my sister moved to California, and my Colorado-inspired, passionate denunciations of the West Coast only increased in antipathy and volume.
I, of course, had never skied in California, nor had I tested whether the California-tourist hypothesis held water. But really, that was beside the point. Sometimes your loyalties to one place or thing aren’t rational or well reasoned. They’re visceral, instinctual, the product of love and upbringing, not careful analysis or intellectual acuity. So if you told Younger Shane that one day he’d intentionally bypass a Colorado ski trip for…gasp…California. Well, let’s just say you’d have to bring tissues to wipe his nose, and have patience as he tried desperately to overcome his self-disappointment.
It’s a humorous image to ponder, and mostly tongue-in-cheek, of course. But those memories and the impending vacation have me thinking about ‘enemies,’ and especially Jesus’ quote above. Whenever I’m tempted to consider Jesus an everyday guy who never wanted to mix things up, I force myself to remember this quote: “Truly you’ve heard it said, ‘Love your friends, but hate your enemies.’ But I say unto you, ‘Love thy enemy, and pray for those that persecute you.’” It’s a remarkable claim, right?! Radical, even, and not always welcome. I guess when Jesus claimed God’s love was available to all people, indiscriminately, he really meant it.
So what does it mean to love your enemy? Notice that Jesus doesn’t say, “Pretend your enemy is your friend.” That would be foolish, and untrue, and Jesus believed in truth. Nor does Jesus say, “Ignore your enemy, and hope s/he goes away.” That wouldn’t help, because if your enemy is a true enemy, they won’t ignore you, even if you ignore them.
No, Jesus instructs us to love our enemies, and love is an active verb. We’re called to engage these destructive forces and people, albeit constructively, hopefully, and wisely. Can you both fight an enemy and love them? Is it responsible to do otherwise?! I know people whose greatest enemy is addiction. How do you love that enemy? You fight it, of course, though Jesus likely meant people, rather than psychological forces… And what about these recent terrorist attacks, or attempts. Love that enemy? On what grounds? To what end?
No answers today, just comments I hope provoke ideas of your own. Send your thoughts my way. If I get enough, I’ll write a follow-up that includes our collective wisdom on this thorny topic. In the meantime, may your week be lovely, and may you love all you meet. Even your enemies, whomever they are. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Friday, January 1, 2010
With you always…
This time last year, we initiated an experiment in ‘doing church differently,’ which I think is worth repeating. The idea came from a pastor who once told me about something interesting his church did. Like all good ideas, this needed to be stolen. So we stole it. I’m referring, you might’ve guessed, to 2009’s Congregational Theme- “A Table Before Me: God’s Open-Armed Adventure.” In diverse ways, from educational activities to the website to mission work to a sermon (or twenty), that theme weaved its way through our church life. 2009 was an adventurous year! We tried new things, thought challenging thoughts, sparked fresh ideas- some of which we implemented, some of which we didn’t. Most of all, I think we learned many important things about God, each other and ourselves.
But while the adventure continues, it must change. Indeed, that’s a fundamental fact about God’s open-armed adventure- change is always happening, whether we notice it or not. That’s true for churches as much as for nature or Brett Favre’s retirement ambitions. So we’re going to build on last year’s successes, while venturing out into a whole new direction. In other words, during 2010, Plymouth Creek will continue to experiment with using a Congregational Theme to direct and focus our life together, but with a new year comes another theme. And your 2010 Congregational Theme is… (cue the drum roll, and the triumphant trumpet music)-
Does it seem like there’s A LOT going on in that phrase? I hope so. The plan is to spend all year excavating, exploring and being formed by the many ideas this theme can ignite. But before we begin, I want to highlight three things, which form the core of what I hope we achieve this year together:
1. 2010 will not be about us! Our theme verses are Matthew 28:19-20, known by many as “The Great Commandment.” The theme begins like the verses do, though “Go to All Peoples” is my translation, rather than the typical, “Go, therefore, and make…” By 2011, we’ll know much more about this important calling, and especially how to do it in ways faithful to our beliefs about inclusivity, free thought and respect for non-Christian religious practices. Still, the goal will be to look outward, constantly, and to do so together.
2. That begins by reigniting our innate love for community! Something PCCC loves to do is love each other, and have fun together. Indeed, many of you came to this church because someone invited you to have fun and establish relationships with other church members. And the conviction of Jesus is that building intimate community transforms lives. So to kick things off, I’m preaching a 2nd annual Cinema Sermon Series for four consecutive Sundays, starting January 17. Each sermon will use a different movie as its primary ‘text.’ The day before each sermon (Saturday afternoon- 3 PM), everyone and their friends are invited to watch that movie in our Sanctuary. If you can’t make it, there’s a schedule elsewhere in this newsletter telling which movie will be used for which Sunday.
3. Our community is unique: We are Disciples of Christ! And it’s my deep conviction that the Disciples of Christ way of practicing faith has potential to transform our broader community in wonderful ways if we’re willing and able to be and share that good news. So all year long, we’ll learn more about our rich and goodly heritage, especially how the Disciples of Christ message is so relevant and important for this 21st-century world. One way YOU can help embody this message is to write “This I Believe” statements, like the one later in this newsletter. Email me, or slip yours under my door, unsigned, if you prefer.
You should know I truly believe 2010 will be monumental for Plymouth Creek Christian Church. Transformative, even. That will take effort, energy, creativity and prayer. But we have that stuff, and more besides. We have Jesus’ Table in our midst, a dynamic and inspiring piece of furniture that’s open to everybody. In 2010, let’s make sure they know it. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
But while the adventure continues, it must change. Indeed, that’s a fundamental fact about God’s open-armed adventure- change is always happening, whether we notice it or not. That’s true for churches as much as for nature or Brett Favre’s retirement ambitions. So we’re going to build on last year’s successes, while venturing out into a whole new direction. In other words, during 2010, Plymouth Creek will continue to experiment with using a Congregational Theme to direct and focus our life together, but with a new year comes another theme. And your 2010 Congregational Theme is… (cue the drum roll, and the triumphant trumpet music)-
Go to All Peoples: Transforming Community with Disciples
Does it seem like there’s A LOT going on in that phrase? I hope so. The plan is to spend all year excavating, exploring and being formed by the many ideas this theme can ignite. But before we begin, I want to highlight three things, which form the core of what I hope we achieve this year together:
1. 2010 will not be about us! Our theme verses are Matthew 28:19-20, known by many as “The Great Commandment.” The theme begins like the verses do, though “Go to All Peoples” is my translation, rather than the typical, “Go, therefore, and make…” By 2011, we’ll know much more about this important calling, and especially how to do it in ways faithful to our beliefs about inclusivity, free thought and respect for non-Christian religious practices. Still, the goal will be to look outward, constantly, and to do so together.
2. That begins by reigniting our innate love for community! Something PCCC loves to do is love each other, and have fun together. Indeed, many of you came to this church because someone invited you to have fun and establish relationships with other church members. And the conviction of Jesus is that building intimate community transforms lives. So to kick things off, I’m preaching a 2nd annual Cinema Sermon Series for four consecutive Sundays, starting January 17. Each sermon will use a different movie as its primary ‘text.’ The day before each sermon (Saturday afternoon- 3 PM), everyone and their friends are invited to watch that movie in our Sanctuary. If you can’t make it, there’s a schedule elsewhere in this newsletter telling which movie will be used for which Sunday.
3. Our community is unique: We are Disciples of Christ! And it’s my deep conviction that the Disciples of Christ way of practicing faith has potential to transform our broader community in wonderful ways if we’re willing and able to be and share that good news. So all year long, we’ll learn more about our rich and goodly heritage, especially how the Disciples of Christ message is so relevant and important for this 21st-century world. One way YOU can help embody this message is to write “This I Believe” statements, like the one later in this newsletter. Email me, or slip yours under my door, unsigned, if you prefer.
You should know I truly believe 2010 will be monumental for Plymouth Creek Christian Church. Transformative, even. That will take effort, energy, creativity and prayer. But we have that stuff, and more besides. We have Jesus’ Table in our midst, a dynamic and inspiring piece of furniture that’s open to everybody. In 2010, let’s make sure they know it. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
After the chaos…
The day after Christmas, 2008, Tabitha and I went to the Mall of America. Yes, it was a gamble. Perhaps it put our lives in danger. But sometimes you just need to be bold, take risks. And praise God, we lived to tell the tale.
MoA after-Christmas was packed, as you might expect. Thousands mulled and moved about, each at their own pace. Families dashed from store-to-store eager for perfect deals, or desperate to return their gifts and escape before the masses clogged the streets. Alas, it was too late. All parking lots were jammed; the streets in and out also. What happens when too many people gather into the same space, with access to consumer goods and much too much junk food? Simply put: Chaos.
But we couldn’t complain. We spent the afternoon at the mall, on purpose. And I’m glad. Not only did I purchase great shoes for cheap, we also undertook some amateur anthropological study (aka- “people-watching”). We made a stunning discovery- Whether preparing for a big holiday, or completely absent the pressure of a looming deadline, people are relatively constant in their aptitude for chaos. It seems we like it, despite constant complaints to the contrary.
This sounds anti-intuitive, right? Usually, when faced with chaotic circumstances (exiting the stadium after a Minnesota Wild hockey game, or when fourteen people descend on the kitchen to help cook Christmas dinner), our immediate response is, “Make it stop!” Our explanation is that we hate either the stress, or the confusion, or the lack of control, or… whatever. And many times, like when a busy traffic light goes out, it’s true that chaos is undesirable. Nevertheless, for all the complaints we raise against chaos, last year’s after-Christmas excursion caused me to reevaluate.
After all, if ever the mall should be a) at diminished capacity, or at least b) moving somewhat slowly, lethargically, I’d think it would be December 26. Many don’t work that day; kids don’t return to school for another week or three. No more Christmas lists need filling, all last-minute Christmas gifts were purchased already. That there would be crowds at the mall makes sense. That they’d all be frantic and whipped into chaos doesn’t. Why would we run around the mall when no one’s holiday will suffer if we simply meander? Why shove to the front of the line if no one’s Christmas will be ruined by waiting until tomorrow to buy what’s desired? Do we hate chaos as much as we claim? Or is there something energizing about moments of crazed mayhem?
Maybe I’m reading too much into one experience. I’m told preachers can do that. But I don’t think that’s the case, nor do I think it’s only that some personalities thrive on chaos, while others don’t. Do you remember the Bible’s opening lines? “In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void, and…the Spirit of God swept over the face of the waters.” In other words, Bible scholars suggest, Creation occurs by God overcoming chaos, when God brings form and order to what was (or is) chaotic. What that tells me, at least, is that while chaos is not the final, God-desired way of lfie, it’s also a necessary step on the road to creating something more beautiful and holy. Amen, parents?
I imagine that on some intuitive level we get that. Chaos and Creation go together. Good things first require some boiling before they’re ready to serve. What that means for us, then, is that I imagine we can manage a lot of uncertainty or confusion, even if we don’t necessarily like the feeling. Indeed, we can often handle more than we expect of ourselves. Look at the mall after-Christmas. All those people, complaining it’s so crazy, chose to be there. They knew they could take it.
So the next time things get stressful or chaotic, because a co-worker is hyper-active, or things are unexpectedly changing, remember our Creation. God crafted beauty and goodness from chaos. We were resiliently made. Or you can just avoid the mall. That works too…
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
MoA after-Christmas was packed, as you might expect. Thousands mulled and moved about, each at their own pace. Families dashed from store-to-store eager for perfect deals, or desperate to return their gifts and escape before the masses clogged the streets. Alas, it was too late. All parking lots were jammed; the streets in and out also. What happens when too many people gather into the same space, with access to consumer goods and much too much junk food? Simply put: Chaos.
But we couldn’t complain. We spent the afternoon at the mall, on purpose. And I’m glad. Not only did I purchase great shoes for cheap, we also undertook some amateur anthropological study (aka- “people-watching”). We made a stunning discovery- Whether preparing for a big holiday, or completely absent the pressure of a looming deadline, people are relatively constant in their aptitude for chaos. It seems we like it, despite constant complaints to the contrary.
This sounds anti-intuitive, right? Usually, when faced with chaotic circumstances (exiting the stadium after a Minnesota Wild hockey game, or when fourteen people descend on the kitchen to help cook Christmas dinner), our immediate response is, “Make it stop!” Our explanation is that we hate either the stress, or the confusion, or the lack of control, or… whatever. And many times, like when a busy traffic light goes out, it’s true that chaos is undesirable. Nevertheless, for all the complaints we raise against chaos, last year’s after-Christmas excursion caused me to reevaluate.
After all, if ever the mall should be a) at diminished capacity, or at least b) moving somewhat slowly, lethargically, I’d think it would be December 26. Many don’t work that day; kids don’t return to school for another week or three. No more Christmas lists need filling, all last-minute Christmas gifts were purchased already. That there would be crowds at the mall makes sense. That they’d all be frantic and whipped into chaos doesn’t. Why would we run around the mall when no one’s holiday will suffer if we simply meander? Why shove to the front of the line if no one’s Christmas will be ruined by waiting until tomorrow to buy what’s desired? Do we hate chaos as much as we claim? Or is there something energizing about moments of crazed mayhem?
Maybe I’m reading too much into one experience. I’m told preachers can do that. But I don’t think that’s the case, nor do I think it’s only that some personalities thrive on chaos, while others don’t. Do you remember the Bible’s opening lines? “In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void, and…the Spirit of God swept over the face of the waters.” In other words, Bible scholars suggest, Creation occurs by God overcoming chaos, when God brings form and order to what was (or is) chaotic. What that tells me, at least, is that while chaos is not the final, God-desired way of lfie, it’s also a necessary step on the road to creating something more beautiful and holy. Amen, parents?
I imagine that on some intuitive level we get that. Chaos and Creation go together. Good things first require some boiling before they’re ready to serve. What that means for us, then, is that I imagine we can manage a lot of uncertainty or confusion, even if we don’t necessarily like the feeling. Indeed, we can often handle more than we expect of ourselves. Look at the mall after-Christmas. All those people, complaining it’s so crazy, chose to be there. They knew they could take it.
So the next time things get stressful or chaotic, because a co-worker is hyper-active, or things are unexpectedly changing, remember our Creation. God crafted beauty and goodness from chaos. We were resiliently made. Or you can just avoid the mall. That works too…
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Saturday, December 19, 2009
In time for Christmas…
Christmas is typically a time for tradition, for doing what’s been done before, and keeping experiments to a minimum. My first year in college, however, that flew out the window.
It began December 8, to be specific. You might recall that there were few active Christians in my collegiate circle of friends. Indeed, only two other freshman with whom I spent regular time (Warren and Ama) considered themselves ‘actively religious.’ Ama was the first Muslim I’d ever met; Warren, the first (and only) Rastafarian. I’d attended Christian high school, so my experience of diverse religious practitioners and their traditions was woefully inadequate. Particularly because the Christian faith I grew up with encouraged distrust, even condemnation, of non-Christian religions.
So Ama and Warren were eye-opening. When I mentioned waking up early to pray, or taking time out to read Scripture, they were my only college pals who said, “Yeah, I get it. Me too.” Thus, despite some lingering disapproval of their faith perspectives, I gained deep respect for Warren and Ama. This respect led me to question whether my disapproval was, in fact, warranted. So to explore that nagging question, and to further build our bond as the token ‘religious people’ in our group, we undertook an experiment.
December 8 that year marked the beginning of the Muslim holy month, Ramadan. You may know that it’s orthodox Islamic practice to fast everyday during Ramadan, as an act of self-sacrifice, renewed commitment and full-bodied obedience to Allah, i.e. God. Fasting begins daily at sunrise, and ends at sunset. The faithful wake early for breakfast, and ingest neither food nor beverage until darkness returns (well, some drink water, others juice, i.e. it’s confusing, like all religious fasts). Ama grew up observing Ramadan, but always with her family and religious community. Seeing as she now attended a lividly secular school halfway across the nation, she asked her only other religious friends -Warren and me- to join her. We said, ‘yes,’ and thus my Advent waiting that year included thirty days of fasting. People sometimes chuckle (justly) at my strange affinity for devotional behavior.
What an experiment! If you’ve never before fasted, I highly encourage you try it out (after consulting your doctor). Jesus says lots about fasting, but never explains it, since the process was such common knowledge. So I’ll help with particulars if you want, even do it with you…just ask. But this particular fast, my first, was especially meaningful. I performed religious actions I’d never attempted, and learned of religious devotions foreign to my inherited idea of God. To be honest, it gave me deeper respect for what Ama went through each December as she saw Christmas decorations hung and heard carols sung all around her. There’s something both enticing and alarming about experiencing authentic religious activity that’s not native to your tradition. Needless to say, through that and subsequent experiences, my distrust of Islam, Rastafarianism and other genuine religious expressions faded.
So consider my dismay when, last week, I read in the Star Tribune that fliers with swastikas and sexually-explicit cartoons about the prophet Mohammed were stapled to telephone poles in St. Cloud, including poles just outside a store owned and operated by a Muslim family. “I hope Christians didn’t do that,” I thought. “What ugly Christmas decorations.” In Luke’s Gospel, angels appear the night of Jesus’ birth, and sing, “Glory to God, and on earth, peace among all people.” Signs or statements demeaning Muslims (and Jews) don’t fit with that declaration, I believe. Indeed, the Prince of Peace was born so all people- with our many shades, shapes, and differing allegiances- might live reconciled to God and one another (2 Cor. 5:18-19); might develop exuberance about God’s love and our neighbor’s well-being. It took an Advent of whining about empty stomachs with Ama and Warren for me to glimpse that wrinkle in the Christmas story. But now it’s one I pray many children and adults will hear, and tell, and live.
So Merry Christmas, everyone! Jesus, Emmanuel, God-with-Us, will soon be born again. May his divine presence bring love so unconditional and indiscriminate, we just forget that meanness is even an option.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
It began December 8, to be specific. You might recall that there were few active Christians in my collegiate circle of friends. Indeed, only two other freshman with whom I spent regular time (Warren and Ama) considered themselves ‘actively religious.’ Ama was the first Muslim I’d ever met; Warren, the first (and only) Rastafarian. I’d attended Christian high school, so my experience of diverse religious practitioners and their traditions was woefully inadequate. Particularly because the Christian faith I grew up with encouraged distrust, even condemnation, of non-Christian religions.
So Ama and Warren were eye-opening. When I mentioned waking up early to pray, or taking time out to read Scripture, they were my only college pals who said, “Yeah, I get it. Me too.” Thus, despite some lingering disapproval of their faith perspectives, I gained deep respect for Warren and Ama. This respect led me to question whether my disapproval was, in fact, warranted. So to explore that nagging question, and to further build our bond as the token ‘religious people’ in our group, we undertook an experiment.
December 8 that year marked the beginning of the Muslim holy month, Ramadan. You may know that it’s orthodox Islamic practice to fast everyday during Ramadan, as an act of self-sacrifice, renewed commitment and full-bodied obedience to Allah, i.e. God. Fasting begins daily at sunrise, and ends at sunset. The faithful wake early for breakfast, and ingest neither food nor beverage until darkness returns (well, some drink water, others juice, i.e. it’s confusing, like all religious fasts). Ama grew up observing Ramadan, but always with her family and religious community. Seeing as she now attended a lividly secular school halfway across the nation, she asked her only other religious friends -Warren and me- to join her. We said, ‘yes,’ and thus my Advent waiting that year included thirty days of fasting. People sometimes chuckle (justly) at my strange affinity for devotional behavior.
What an experiment! If you’ve never before fasted, I highly encourage you try it out (after consulting your doctor). Jesus says lots about fasting, but never explains it, since the process was such common knowledge. So I’ll help with particulars if you want, even do it with you…just ask. But this particular fast, my first, was especially meaningful. I performed religious actions I’d never attempted, and learned of religious devotions foreign to my inherited idea of God. To be honest, it gave me deeper respect for what Ama went through each December as she saw Christmas decorations hung and heard carols sung all around her. There’s something both enticing and alarming about experiencing authentic religious activity that’s not native to your tradition. Needless to say, through that and subsequent experiences, my distrust of Islam, Rastafarianism and other genuine religious expressions faded.
So consider my dismay when, last week, I read in the Star Tribune that fliers with swastikas and sexually-explicit cartoons about the prophet Mohammed were stapled to telephone poles in St. Cloud, including poles just outside a store owned and operated by a Muslim family. “I hope Christians didn’t do that,” I thought. “What ugly Christmas decorations.” In Luke’s Gospel, angels appear the night of Jesus’ birth, and sing, “Glory to God, and on earth, peace among all people.” Signs or statements demeaning Muslims (and Jews) don’t fit with that declaration, I believe. Indeed, the Prince of Peace was born so all people- with our many shades, shapes, and differing allegiances- might live reconciled to God and one another (2 Cor. 5:18-19); might develop exuberance about God’s love and our neighbor’s well-being. It took an Advent of whining about empty stomachs with Ama and Warren for me to glimpse that wrinkle in the Christmas story. But now it’s one I pray many children and adults will hear, and tell, and live.
So Merry Christmas, everyone! Jesus, Emmanuel, God-with-Us, will soon be born again. May his divine presence bring love so unconditional and indiscriminate, we just forget that meanness is even an option.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
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