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
Read more!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
An inside dog…
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
Read more!
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
Read more!
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Questioning…
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
Read more!
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
Read more!
Thursday, August 11, 2011
The Table…
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
Read more!
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
Read more!
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Transition time…
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
Read more!
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
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Monday, August 1, 2011
Openings…
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
Read more!
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
Read more!
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Rise to thee…
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
Read more!
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
Read more!
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