After a long hiatus, I began regularly exercising again mid-July. And as you might expect, it’s been a blessing. The break in my previous workout routine wasn’t planned, or even desired, but then again, they never are, right?! It started around the time we bought a puppy, I’ve noticed, but I’ll try not to blame Fawkes. Anyway, the point is I’ve rejoined the ranks of the regularly exercising. Yeah!
It’s different this time, however. Rather than lift weights, now I’m running. I find this funny, since running has always seemed like torture to me. And thus, for the first few weeks , I ran regularly, but I haaaated it! Part of the issue was that those days were wickedly hot. Plus- of course- was the fact I was wickedly out of shape. But mostly, I’ve learned, was that I’d never accepted something a good runner must: you can’t win the race if you burn yourself out on mile 1.
This lesson hit me one morning early August, when for whatever reason, I decided to go slow. Typically, before then, I wouldn’t allow myself such sluggishness. I’d always “push myself,” go faster, trying to keep up with, well, who knows! But that morning I felt tired or entitled, since I’d run the previous four. Regardless the cause, I started running and settled into what felt like a snail’s pace. And what’s more, I kept at that pace despite frequent feelings of needing to speed up. But what do you know: When I finished that run, I’d gone farther, faster, with fewer stops than ever before!
Which makes sense, theoretically, Slow and Steady wins the race and all that. Still, it’s one thing to know what works, and another to feel it, in your bones. After that run, I felt it, and it was a milestone for me. Suddenly, running was no longer torture, but a legitimate exercise activity. Strange, my friends, but true.
Well- surprise, surprise- I have since spiritualized the experience, figuring that what works for distance running might have other applications too. Like, say, prayer, and especially developing a daily pattern in one’s life. Have you ever tried doing this after a time of not praying much? I have, and like my first experiences of jogging this summer, I began way too fast. I’d expect of myself, say, thrice daily for significant minutes each time. Or I’d get three prayer books and ‘commit’ to reading from them all, every day. Unsurprisingly, that created burnout, and it settled in quick. Thus, the daily prayer experiment ended before it really got going.
Other times, however, I’ve treated prayer (and this applies to most spiritual practices, really, like meditation, scripture reading, fasting, journaling, cooking…) much like my body. I’ve recognized it can be disciplined, trained, built up and strengthened. But it takes time to move from one level to the next, as your spirit get more used to strenuous, lengthy exercise. Like my body while running, my spirit while praying is susceptible to fatigue and burnout. And this comparison works particularly well when you think about God’s reaction.
Do you think God expects us all, already, always, to be marathon-trained prayer athletes? Or is it God’s desire to simply hear from us, be with us in prayer more regularly? Answer: B. Which you know as well
Read more!
Friday, October 21, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Then I’m strong…
Last March, I tried making a “poor man’s green bean casserole.” And it was bad. Very bad. Desperately terrible. Multiple things went wrong- substandard ingredients, haphazard planning. But the biggest issue was, I realized latter, my overcompensating for weak sauce.
Here’s what happened. I gathered stirred everything together and let the casserole bake. After pulling it from the oven, I dutifully dipped in my tasting spoon. But it didn’t taste like I’d expected; indeed, it barely tasted at all! So to ‘spice things up,’ I added extra ingredients, then seasoned the concoction with (way too much) salt. When the next tasting revealed I’d overdone the saltiness, I added more extra ingredients and tasted again. This led to another round of seasoning, then another round of spices, until the flavor profile became more muddled than my fifth grade band practice.
Now, I’m certain experienced cooks would have much to critique. But what I learned from the failure was the value of incremental pacing. Especially when a sauce is weak, ‘shock and awe’ is not the best strategy for making it edible. Pinches of paprika perhaps, a miniscule measurement of marjoram…maybe. But handfuls of sodium and ounces of cayenne can put sauce past the point of no return. Quickly. I should’ve remembered my Aesop’s fables, and proceeded tortoise like- Slow and Steady. It may not have worked anyway, but would’ve given the food a fighting chance.
I mention this regrettable episode in light of something I did last week. As part of this year’s CROP Walk, I fasted for a day in solidarity with the hungry folk for whom we walked. I’ve fasted before, and each time is unique. So what struck me this time was how weak I felt as the day went on. Certainly, the feeling was relative. Skipping a few meals is far from what famine-stricken Somalis are currently enduring. Nevertheless, as I performed simple tasks or ran errands, what started with slight hunger pains become a full-bodied yearning for sustenance. And what surprised most was how distracting that was; the large disruption this emerging weakness imposed on my ability to focus or think.
Which prompted a spiritual question: When you feel weak, is it helpful to summon all your strength and try overwhelming weakness with a kind of spiritual/psychical ‘shock and awe’? Or is that counter-productive? Take, for example, the experience of starting something new (a ministry at church, workout regime, pattern of behavior, prayer routine). Almost regardless of what it is, a newbie will feel vulnerable, even ‘weak.’ Yes, you might really want to do this new thing; saw how meaningful it was for others. But it requires learning much you don’t know, building skills you don’t have, letting go of old habits and occasionally failing. Some, of course, try the shock and awe method- work at it real hard, non-stop until they no longer feel uncomfortable. But how many diets have been scuttled by pushing too hard, too soon? Getting good at something takes repetition, and so for most folk, patience.
A favorite section of mine in the Bible deals with cultivating patience as regards weakness. It may not work for everything, but it’s worth pondering. In 2 Corinthians 12, regarding an unnamed weakness, Paul hears God say, “My grace is sufficient for you. For my power is made perfect in weakness.” In other words, rather than battle what troubled him with the strength of his psychological fortitude, instead Paul practiced turning it over to God. Which wasn’t a one-time experience. But that makes sense. Ever asked for forgiveness? Or tried forgiving someone else? Didn’t happen all at once, did it? But, if you took time to cultivate spiritual endurance by regularly admitting your need for God’s grace, that may not have made things easy, but I’d bet it helped. A lot!
Certainly, when I felt weak while fasting, it was better to admit that feeling and release it to God, rather than scold myself for not trying harder to focus better. With that tactic, the weakness didn’t dissipate immediately. But as I repeated, slowly but surely I felt better.
Now if only I can replicate in my cooking…
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Here’s what happened. I gathered stirred everything together and let the casserole bake. After pulling it from the oven, I dutifully dipped in my tasting spoon. But it didn’t taste like I’d expected; indeed, it barely tasted at all! So to ‘spice things up,’ I added extra ingredients, then seasoned the concoction with (way too much) salt. When the next tasting revealed I’d overdone the saltiness, I added more extra ingredients and tasted again. This led to another round of seasoning, then another round of spices, until the flavor profile became more muddled than my fifth grade band practice.
Now, I’m certain experienced cooks would have much to critique. But what I learned from the failure was the value of incremental pacing. Especially when a sauce is weak, ‘shock and awe’ is not the best strategy for making it edible. Pinches of paprika perhaps, a miniscule measurement of marjoram…maybe. But handfuls of sodium and ounces of cayenne can put sauce past the point of no return. Quickly. I should’ve remembered my Aesop’s fables, and proceeded tortoise like- Slow and Steady. It may not have worked anyway, but would’ve given the food a fighting chance.
I mention this regrettable episode in light of something I did last week. As part of this year’s CROP Walk, I fasted for a day in solidarity with the hungry folk for whom we walked. I’ve fasted before, and each time is unique. So what struck me this time was how weak I felt as the day went on. Certainly, the feeling was relative. Skipping a few meals is far from what famine-stricken Somalis are currently enduring. Nevertheless, as I performed simple tasks or ran errands, what started with slight hunger pains become a full-bodied yearning for sustenance. And what surprised most was how distracting that was; the large disruption this emerging weakness imposed on my ability to focus or think.
Which prompted a spiritual question: When you feel weak, is it helpful to summon all your strength and try overwhelming weakness with a kind of spiritual/psychical ‘shock and awe’? Or is that counter-productive? Take, for example, the experience of starting something new (a ministry at church, workout regime, pattern of behavior, prayer routine). Almost regardless of what it is, a newbie will feel vulnerable, even ‘weak.’ Yes, you might really want to do this new thing; saw how meaningful it was for others. But it requires learning much you don’t know, building skills you don’t have, letting go of old habits and occasionally failing. Some, of course, try the shock and awe method- work at it real hard, non-stop until they no longer feel uncomfortable. But how many diets have been scuttled by pushing too hard, too soon? Getting good at something takes repetition, and so for most folk, patience.
A favorite section of mine in the Bible deals with cultivating patience as regards weakness. It may not work for everything, but it’s worth pondering. In 2 Corinthians 12, regarding an unnamed weakness, Paul hears God say, “My grace is sufficient for you. For my power is made perfect in weakness.” In other words, rather than battle what troubled him with the strength of his psychological fortitude, instead Paul practiced turning it over to God. Which wasn’t a one-time experience. But that makes sense. Ever asked for forgiveness? Or tried forgiving someone else? Didn’t happen all at once, did it? But, if you took time to cultivate spiritual endurance by regularly admitting your need for God’s grace, that may not have made things easy, but I’d bet it helped. A lot!
Certainly, when I felt weak while fasting, it was better to admit that feeling and release it to God, rather than scold myself for not trying harder to focus better. With that tactic, the weakness didn’t dissipate immediately. But as I repeated, slowly but surely I felt better.
Now if only I can replicate in my cooking…
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Thursday, October 6, 2011
The more things change…
A group of Plymouth Creekers, on September 23, had lunch with a monk. We were spending the day at St. John’s University- looking at their world-famous Bible, worshipping with the monastic community- and our tour guide, Brother John, joined us for a meal. We didn’t expect it; we figured he had better things to do. But he said, “I don’t mean to presume…but do you mind if I dine with you?” Absolutely!, we responded, and were very glad he did.
After all, how often do you hang out with a member of a monastery? For much of Christian history, monks were folk whom non-professional Christians encountered regularly. And that’s still the case in some Catholic or Orthodox communities. But at least since the Protestant Reformation, certainly in America, those who’ve undertaken this unique vocation have receded to the periphery of many Christians’ consciousness. Some even wonder, “Why would someone ever become a monk? Isn’t that just…running away from life?”
Well, as we discovered, that answer is No. At least, for Brother John. I think the entire group found him approachable, charming, and well informed about issues Christian communities face. We discussed the always sensitive topic of music in church. He talked about how many monks from his monastery once served small Minnesota parishes. But that ministry has diminished in recent decades as both monastery and churches struggled with lower numbers. Sound familiar?!
But the conversation that sticks with me was when he taught us Protestants about the Catholic doctrine of Purgatory. You’ve heard about that, right? According to Roman church teaching, the afterlife isn’t simply a one-time decision about Heaven or Hell. Rather, in the Middle Ages especially, theologians began postulating that God created a middle option, a holding cell, where folk who didn’t deserve damnation, but hadn’t yet merited Paradise, would reside after death. There- in Purgatory- the soul would abide, sometimes performing penance for sins in life, hopefully receiving the prayers of still-alive family or friends. And at some point, God would likely relent, saying, “Alright, now you’re in!”
I used to think this a funny idea. But the more I’ve learned, the more I’ve understood how compassionate it was. Christians used to look at great saints as the models for Christian behavior. Which is cool, since saints often performed remarkable, courageous acts of charity and faith. The problem is, well, most of us aren’t saints! So if being a saint was the goal, what about the masses who fell short?
Purgatory. And notice, that’s much better than Hell! Put differently, the church taught that even if you weren’t an exemplar of virtue or revered martyr, nevertheless through your everyday goodness, willingness to atone for your mistakes, and the continued love people gave you after death, you could still receive the ultimate reward- Eternal Paradise. Effectively, this meant we weren’t powerless; that everyday people mattered to God, and crucially, what we did could make a difference. In the days the Purgatory doctrine developed, most people lived quite un-empowered lives. Typically serfs (slaves) on some lord’s lands, often at the mercy of merciless armies. Still, the church taught, when it comes to eternity, you had something to work for.
Whether I believe in Purgatory or not, I like the notion of viewing normal people with dignity and respect. And in the Purgatory idea, as originally intended, that’s what transpired. Of course, as Brother John pointed out, most good ideas get misused, and Purgatory is no exception. Still, for the time when it arose, Purgatory enriched the faith and lives of everyday Christians, and thus, served a need that others in society denied them. Indeed, he continued, all good church doctrine should have exactly such life-giving, practical implications.
Which brings up an interesting question, that I’ll simply leave for you to answer for yourselves, or in a reply email to me if you wish: If positive, this-worldly impact on our everyday lives is the standard for good doctrine- and, therefore, not Eternal Truth or Tradition- what beliefs remain good for our church today, and which, while meaningful long ago, might be jettisoned, for no longer helping people?
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
After all, how often do you hang out with a member of a monastery? For much of Christian history, monks were folk whom non-professional Christians encountered regularly. And that’s still the case in some Catholic or Orthodox communities. But at least since the Protestant Reformation, certainly in America, those who’ve undertaken this unique vocation have receded to the periphery of many Christians’ consciousness. Some even wonder, “Why would someone ever become a monk? Isn’t that just…running away from life?”
Well, as we discovered, that answer is No. At least, for Brother John. I think the entire group found him approachable, charming, and well informed about issues Christian communities face. We discussed the always sensitive topic of music in church. He talked about how many monks from his monastery once served small Minnesota parishes. But that ministry has diminished in recent decades as both monastery and churches struggled with lower numbers. Sound familiar?!
But the conversation that sticks with me was when he taught us Protestants about the Catholic doctrine of Purgatory. You’ve heard about that, right? According to Roman church teaching, the afterlife isn’t simply a one-time decision about Heaven or Hell. Rather, in the Middle Ages especially, theologians began postulating that God created a middle option, a holding cell, where folk who didn’t deserve damnation, but hadn’t yet merited Paradise, would reside after death. There- in Purgatory- the soul would abide, sometimes performing penance for sins in life, hopefully receiving the prayers of still-alive family or friends. And at some point, God would likely relent, saying, “Alright, now you’re in!”
I used to think this a funny idea. But the more I’ve learned, the more I’ve understood how compassionate it was. Christians used to look at great saints as the models for Christian behavior. Which is cool, since saints often performed remarkable, courageous acts of charity and faith. The problem is, well, most of us aren’t saints! So if being a saint was the goal, what about the masses who fell short?
Purgatory. And notice, that’s much better than Hell! Put differently, the church taught that even if you weren’t an exemplar of virtue or revered martyr, nevertheless through your everyday goodness, willingness to atone for your mistakes, and the continued love people gave you after death, you could still receive the ultimate reward- Eternal Paradise. Effectively, this meant we weren’t powerless; that everyday people mattered to God, and crucially, what we did could make a difference. In the days the Purgatory doctrine developed, most people lived quite un-empowered lives. Typically serfs (slaves) on some lord’s lands, often at the mercy of merciless armies. Still, the church taught, when it comes to eternity, you had something to work for.
Whether I believe in Purgatory or not, I like the notion of viewing normal people with dignity and respect. And in the Purgatory idea, as originally intended, that’s what transpired. Of course, as Brother John pointed out, most good ideas get misused, and Purgatory is no exception. Still, for the time when it arose, Purgatory enriched the faith and lives of everyday Christians, and thus, served a need that others in society denied them. Indeed, he continued, all good church doctrine should have exactly such life-giving, practical implications.
Which brings up an interesting question, that I’ll simply leave for you to answer for yourselves, or in a reply email to me if you wish: If positive, this-worldly impact on our everyday lives is the standard for good doctrine- and, therefore, not Eternal Truth or Tradition- what beliefs remain good for our church today, and which, while meaningful long ago, might be jettisoned, for no longer helping people?
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Hunger pains…
Jesus spoke much, according to the Gospels, about fasting. He said, “When you fast, don’t walk about dirty and disheveled, seeking others’ praise. Rather, clean up! Put on a good face. And your Divine Parent, who sees in secret, will reward your faithfulness.” Similar instructions appear in elsewhere, counseling his disciples about this unique spiritual practice. But one thing Jesus never says is how to actually fast.
“Simple, Preacher. Just don’t eat!” Sure, whatever, but I’ve still got many questions. How long should I fast for? Can I have water? Tea? Juice? What if I’m a manual laborer, or how about pregnant women? Notice that in his teachings, Jesus takes for granted: a) That his disciples actually intend to fast, and b) They know what it involves. Apparently, such behavior was routine back then; like a cultural warehouse of fasting wisdom had developed, to which everyone had access.
But times change. And I doubt most American Christians have ever intentionally fasted. Our question for Christ wouldn’t be, “How can I glean greater spiritual benefit from my fasts?” Rather, we’d cry, “Seriously, Jesus? You want me to do what?!”
Scholars have long debated the evolution of fasting. Perhaps some poor hovel, one day long lost to memory, had a thin Autumn harvest. There wasn’t enough food for the village, this argument goes, so to conserve what they had, everyone abstained for ‘spiritual reasons’ on a weekly basis. Or maybe pious ancient migrants, traveling far with limited storage, occasionally limited their caloric intake, calling it prayer for traveling mercies, and the practice was handed down.
Who knows? What I can testify to, however, is that it’s a spiritually enriching experience. We talk sometimes about sacrificing for God, and typically mean giving money, or using our time and talents to help others. But causing our tummies to grumble in hunger? Sounds strange, right? Well, it’s not! If you’re healthy enough, that is, or don’t have strenuous labor to perform, occasionally battling through hunger pains focuses the mind on God’s grace. Like a school bell ringing hourly, telling students class is starting, when your empty stomach complains while fasting, it whispers constant reminders. “From whence does real sustenance come,” it can query. “Do you thank God enough for your daily bread?”
Of course, another reason people fast is to act in solidarity with the world’s poor and hungry. Having enough to eat daily, indeed, having the option to fast intentionally, is a great and wondrous blessing, which we should never forget. Nor should we allow that privilege to close our eyes to those who go without. Jesus, in fact, preached as much about the evil of hunger as basically anything else. As such, his spiritual ancestors ought regularly seek to ‘share the feast.’ And, as it happens, this month Plymouth Creek will do exactly that.
As you know, every year we walk in the CROP Walk, having fun and raising funds for hungry folk in our neighborhoods and throughout the world. This October 9, we’ll do that again. So I encourage you- a) To walk!, and/or b) Give to those who do. Talk to me or Chana Weaver with any questions.
But I wonder if this year, we might take another step…Will you fast with me for the 2011 CROP Walk? Not the day itself; that’d be unwise. But how about the day before, October 8? I’m imaging that as many who can (and if there’s any question whether you’re in good enough health to fast, don’t, or ask your doctor) avoid food all day Saturday. And at church, before service, we’ll have break-fast food and juice available. If that sounds intriguing, do a little research into the ‘how-tos’ of fasting, or ask me. You needn’t even tell others you’re doing it, although God will surely smile. While you’re at it, use that day to pray for yourself, your family, your church and especially those who hunger throughout the world. It’d be best, of course, if we didn’t have to walk, if everyone had enough already. In the meantime, thanks for following Jesus’ Way, and loving God’s Children enough to share your daily bread.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
“Simple, Preacher. Just don’t eat!” Sure, whatever, but I’ve still got many questions. How long should I fast for? Can I have water? Tea? Juice? What if I’m a manual laborer, or how about pregnant women? Notice that in his teachings, Jesus takes for granted: a) That his disciples actually intend to fast, and b) They know what it involves. Apparently, such behavior was routine back then; like a cultural warehouse of fasting wisdom had developed, to which everyone had access.
But times change. And I doubt most American Christians have ever intentionally fasted. Our question for Christ wouldn’t be, “How can I glean greater spiritual benefit from my fasts?” Rather, we’d cry, “Seriously, Jesus? You want me to do what?!”
Scholars have long debated the evolution of fasting. Perhaps some poor hovel, one day long lost to memory, had a thin Autumn harvest. There wasn’t enough food for the village, this argument goes, so to conserve what they had, everyone abstained for ‘spiritual reasons’ on a weekly basis. Or maybe pious ancient migrants, traveling far with limited storage, occasionally limited their caloric intake, calling it prayer for traveling mercies, and the practice was handed down.
Who knows? What I can testify to, however, is that it’s a spiritually enriching experience. We talk sometimes about sacrificing for God, and typically mean giving money, or using our time and talents to help others. But causing our tummies to grumble in hunger? Sounds strange, right? Well, it’s not! If you’re healthy enough, that is, or don’t have strenuous labor to perform, occasionally battling through hunger pains focuses the mind on God’s grace. Like a school bell ringing hourly, telling students class is starting, when your empty stomach complains while fasting, it whispers constant reminders. “From whence does real sustenance come,” it can query. “Do you thank God enough for your daily bread?”
Of course, another reason people fast is to act in solidarity with the world’s poor and hungry. Having enough to eat daily, indeed, having the option to fast intentionally, is a great and wondrous blessing, which we should never forget. Nor should we allow that privilege to close our eyes to those who go without. Jesus, in fact, preached as much about the evil of hunger as basically anything else. As such, his spiritual ancestors ought regularly seek to ‘share the feast.’ And, as it happens, this month Plymouth Creek will do exactly that.
As you know, every year we walk in the CROP Walk, having fun and raising funds for hungry folk in our neighborhoods and throughout the world. This October 9, we’ll do that again. So I encourage you- a) To walk!, and/or b) Give to those who do. Talk to me or Chana Weaver with any questions.
But I wonder if this year, we might take another step…Will you fast with me for the 2011 CROP Walk? Not the day itself; that’d be unwise. But how about the day before, October 8? I’m imaging that as many who can (and if there’s any question whether you’re in good enough health to fast, don’t, or ask your doctor) avoid food all day Saturday. And at church, before service, we’ll have break-fast food and juice available. If that sounds intriguing, do a little research into the ‘how-tos’ of fasting, or ask me. You needn’t even tell others you’re doing it, although God will surely smile. While you’re at it, use that day to pray for yourself, your family, your church and especially those who hunger throughout the world. It’d be best, of course, if we didn’t have to walk, if everyone had enough already. In the meantime, thanks for following Jesus’ Way, and loving God’s Children enough to share your daily bread.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Pyramids of service…
At a recent Servant Leaders meeting, we discussed an idea that I ‘borrowed’ from Woodridge Church’s Minister of Outreach. It’s a model for enriching our Christian faith, she claims, by deepening our commitment to service. Particularly, it helps churches help worshippers incorporate such ‘other-mindedness’ into their typical day-to-day. Not a bad mission, I thought…
Anyway, the Woodridge minister gave me a chart describing what I call a ‘Pyramid of Service.’ Level one- i.e. the first steps on the pyramid- are one-time, easy acts of service with little to no follow up. Serving food at a homeless shelter, packing meals for Feed My Starving Children, helping an elderly neighbor clear out gutters in the fall- all these are wonderful, simple activities. At PCCC, we’ve done many before, and this autumn will offer more such opportunities. On October 9, we’ll do the Minneapolis CROP Walk together; a fun afternoon for which we raise money to combat local and global hunger. In November, we’ll do something similar for IOCP- the Sleep Out- an enjoyable evening fundraiser (in a cardboard box!) for housing and homelessness in the NW suburbs. I hope you’ll join me in these and other acts of service.
Level two gets a bit involved. This is when you commit to an ongoing service project, or provide leadership to organizing level one events. For instance- those who make the Sleep Out happen have increased their service engagement; those who regularly drive the Sunday morning bus share a similar dedication. In coming months, we’ll add another ‘Level Two’ opportunity at PCCC. We’ve committed to partnering with St. Barnabas on the first Wednesday evening of every month to provide IOCP with volunteers for their food shelf and thrift store operations. Once a month, couple hours in the evening, serving neighbors in need of food and clothing. Not a bad regular activity to practice your faith, I believe! If you want to help out, let me know.
Level three, needless to say, goes deeper still. It’s when you focus your energies and undertake greater responsibilities for the well-being of folk in need. I have difficulty defining this ‘level’ as clearly as others. Certainly, longevity matters- keeping a ministry like Sleep Out, CROP Walk, church choir, the Community Garden operating year after year come to mind. As does becoming a mentor for at risk youth; opening your home to a family or single mother in need. PCCCers display level three-like service to God’s Kingdom in many different ways already. But if you’re aching to go deeper, yet are having trouble deciding where your efforts would be used best, please call; we’ll grab coffee! I like few things better then helping folk enrich their faith/life through service.
As you can tell, I found this model useful for thinking about service, especially since our vision is “To become a beacon of openness and service in the NW suburbs.” The SL Team did too, although we noticed that it’s not as simple as moving up the pyramid like you would climb a ladder. Sometimes, it’s helpful to ‘take a step back,’ unload some responsibilities so you can rest or be more effective in other pursuits. Other times, it’s imperative to stretch yourself, launch into unknown waters, trust God will carry you through. Further, you can have a deep, abiding commitment to one ministry at church or in the community, while still participating in the CROP Walk or attending monthly service nights. We can be on several levels at once; the key is cultivating a desire to serve!
So if you’ve never done much service, we’ve organized opportunities to get your feet wet. If you’re wanting more, but are unsure of your time or energy level, we’ve got that covered too through ongoing, lower-risk projects. And if you’re searching for a ‘calling,’ or particular venue to make a lasting difference, PCCC will help you discern that path with God’s help. Mostly, though, I hope you know how grateful I remain for all the acts and lives of service you lead already! May we use that service and compassion together to reach out to many others, and shine a brighter, bolder light of love.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Anyway, the Woodridge minister gave me a chart describing what I call a ‘Pyramid of Service.’ Level one- i.e. the first steps on the pyramid- are one-time, easy acts of service with little to no follow up. Serving food at a homeless shelter, packing meals for Feed My Starving Children, helping an elderly neighbor clear out gutters in the fall- all these are wonderful, simple activities. At PCCC, we’ve done many before, and this autumn will offer more such opportunities. On October 9, we’ll do the Minneapolis CROP Walk together; a fun afternoon for which we raise money to combat local and global hunger. In November, we’ll do something similar for IOCP- the Sleep Out- an enjoyable evening fundraiser (in a cardboard box!) for housing and homelessness in the NW suburbs. I hope you’ll join me in these and other acts of service.
Level two gets a bit involved. This is when you commit to an ongoing service project, or provide leadership to organizing level one events. For instance- those who make the Sleep Out happen have increased their service engagement; those who regularly drive the Sunday morning bus share a similar dedication. In coming months, we’ll add another ‘Level Two’ opportunity at PCCC. We’ve committed to partnering with St. Barnabas on the first Wednesday evening of every month to provide IOCP with volunteers for their food shelf and thrift store operations. Once a month, couple hours in the evening, serving neighbors in need of food and clothing. Not a bad regular activity to practice your faith, I believe! If you want to help out, let me know.
Level three, needless to say, goes deeper still. It’s when you focus your energies and undertake greater responsibilities for the well-being of folk in need. I have difficulty defining this ‘level’ as clearly as others. Certainly, longevity matters- keeping a ministry like Sleep Out, CROP Walk, church choir, the Community Garden operating year after year come to mind. As does becoming a mentor for at risk youth; opening your home to a family or single mother in need. PCCCers display level three-like service to God’s Kingdom in many different ways already. But if you’re aching to go deeper, yet are having trouble deciding where your efforts would be used best, please call; we’ll grab coffee! I like few things better then helping folk enrich their faith/life through service.
As you can tell, I found this model useful for thinking about service, especially since our vision is “To become a beacon of openness and service in the NW suburbs.” The SL Team did too, although we noticed that it’s not as simple as moving up the pyramid like you would climb a ladder. Sometimes, it’s helpful to ‘take a step back,’ unload some responsibilities so you can rest or be more effective in other pursuits. Other times, it’s imperative to stretch yourself, launch into unknown waters, trust God will carry you through. Further, you can have a deep, abiding commitment to one ministry at church or in the community, while still participating in the CROP Walk or attending monthly service nights. We can be on several levels at once; the key is cultivating a desire to serve!
So if you’ve never done much service, we’ve organized opportunities to get your feet wet. If you’re wanting more, but are unsure of your time or energy level, we’ve got that covered too through ongoing, lower-risk projects. And if you’re searching for a ‘calling,’ or particular venue to make a lasting difference, PCCC will help you discern that path with God’s help. Mostly, though, I hope you know how grateful I remain for all the acts and lives of service you lead already! May we use that service and compassion together to reach out to many others, and shine a brighter, bolder light of love.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Letter from our Pastoral Intern
I love dirt. Wait. I mean, outdoors. Yeah. Being outside. Sifting dirt through my hands. Not gardening, just thinking. I like to feel connected to the earth, to the air, to the creatures I find in the dirt… but I love water. I need water. Water… for the dirt… hmmmm.
I grew up on a farm in the heart of the Red River Valley. My father was a grain farmer, later farming soybeans and sunflowers, but mostly wheat and barley. We had alfalfa fields we cut for hay to feed our horses. We raised Arabians. Fall season’s trail rides in the sand hills of North Dakota remain some of my most treasured memories.
I grew up in the Lutheran church—American Lutheran, now ELCA, in my small eastern ND town 20 miles west of Fargo. My maternal grandmother helped found that church. I was born with music and born into the church. The Sunday school director had a vision for the formation of future church musicians. As a 4th grader, I began playing hymns for the adult Sunday school opening. We would sing the same 2 or 3 hymns for at least a month until I was ready to move on to a new one. “Breathe on Me, Breath of God” was one of my first favorites. Key of F with just one flat and a simple chord progression.
I was in 10th grade on the very first Earth Day, and the military draft was very much on the minds of many, calling older schoolmates to war in Vietnam. We formed an inter-faith youth coalition to “rap” about war, zero-population, world hunger and peaceful resistance.
After college, Jim and I taught public school music for a year before going to a missionary training school in Bloomington, MN. We were with a missionary group for 13 years, and during that time spent a year in Ivory Coast, West Africa, then 6 years in France, with time in Bible school and home mission. We lived communally under a theological structure that was fundamental and patriarchal. I learned to distrust my own relationship with God and worked diligently to suppress what was surely a rebellious and unsanctified heart. Along the way I lost my passion for people, my creativity and my self.
In the mission field, I asked too many questions and challenged too many people and precepts of authority. We came home. I fell apart. We began to live life in Minnesota and raise our children in a smaller place, but had become sensitive to a larger world. I began to work on shredding, then piecing my faith back together. My adventure changed from traveling the world in order to “win souls” (as if I were one who ever could) to living life in a way that I respected, even loved how I was wired.
For the next 15 years I was part of a study group that helped me rediscover my self. One book we studied was Parker Palmer’s “Let Your Life Speak—Listening to the Voice of Vocation” where the reader is challenged to find that first deep joy. My memory, pre-verbal, was of sifting warm earth through my hands, watching the wind create waves in the green-blue wheat fields on the prairie. I felt an awareness and relationship with God in and beyond the nature that surrounded me. By expressing that I love dirt, water and air I open a pathway to layers of meaning above, below and beyond that first thought.
The beauty I experienced was of the power and provision of Love. Music fed my soul, and ritual linked me with my family of origin and of faith. I am a teacher. I am “wired” to create space for people to discover their authentic self and to allow themselves to be loved by God and grow in relationships—human and Divine. Music and theology—art and theology—have always been my inner dialogue partners.
I thought I myself had exhausted the possibility of acting on the dream to explore music and art from a deeper theological perspective, and that it would have to be enough to create that space for my children. But my dear friends challenged me to envision it for myself: First with gentle nudging, finally bluntly telling me outright to stop whining, at least apply to seminary and then see what would happen.
Here I am. Three years have passed. I am astonished to be midway into my MDIV and that it is already time to do internship. We will explore ways of imagining and expressing God’s great love for each of us and for the world. Thank you for opening your doors to me as I open my heart to who I am, to who you are and who we are together.
Lynda Lee
Pastoral Intern, Plymouth Creek Christian Church
Read more!
I grew up on a farm in the heart of the Red River Valley. My father was a grain farmer, later farming soybeans and sunflowers, but mostly wheat and barley. We had alfalfa fields we cut for hay to feed our horses. We raised Arabians. Fall season’s trail rides in the sand hills of North Dakota remain some of my most treasured memories.
I grew up in the Lutheran church—American Lutheran, now ELCA, in my small eastern ND town 20 miles west of Fargo. My maternal grandmother helped found that church. I was born with music and born into the church. The Sunday school director had a vision for the formation of future church musicians. As a 4th grader, I began playing hymns for the adult Sunday school opening. We would sing the same 2 or 3 hymns for at least a month until I was ready to move on to a new one. “Breathe on Me, Breath of God” was one of my first favorites. Key of F with just one flat and a simple chord progression.
I was in 10th grade on the very first Earth Day, and the military draft was very much on the minds of many, calling older schoolmates to war in Vietnam. We formed an inter-faith youth coalition to “rap” about war, zero-population, world hunger and peaceful resistance.
After college, Jim and I taught public school music for a year before going to a missionary training school in Bloomington, MN. We were with a missionary group for 13 years, and during that time spent a year in Ivory Coast, West Africa, then 6 years in France, with time in Bible school and home mission. We lived communally under a theological structure that was fundamental and patriarchal. I learned to distrust my own relationship with God and worked diligently to suppress what was surely a rebellious and unsanctified heart. Along the way I lost my passion for people, my creativity and my self.
In the mission field, I asked too many questions and challenged too many people and precepts of authority. We came home. I fell apart. We began to live life in Minnesota and raise our children in a smaller place, but had become sensitive to a larger world. I began to work on shredding, then piecing my faith back together. My adventure changed from traveling the world in order to “win souls” (as if I were one who ever could) to living life in a way that I respected, even loved how I was wired.
For the next 15 years I was part of a study group that helped me rediscover my self. One book we studied was Parker Palmer’s “Let Your Life Speak—Listening to the Voice of Vocation” where the reader is challenged to find that first deep joy. My memory, pre-verbal, was of sifting warm earth through my hands, watching the wind create waves in the green-blue wheat fields on the prairie. I felt an awareness and relationship with God in and beyond the nature that surrounded me. By expressing that I love dirt, water and air I open a pathway to layers of meaning above, below and beyond that first thought.
The beauty I experienced was of the power and provision of Love. Music fed my soul, and ritual linked me with my family of origin and of faith. I am a teacher. I am “wired” to create space for people to discover their authentic self and to allow themselves to be loved by God and grow in relationships—human and Divine. Music and theology—art and theology—have always been my inner dialogue partners.
I thought I myself had exhausted the possibility of acting on the dream to explore music and art from a deeper theological perspective, and that it would have to be enough to create that space for my children. But my dear friends challenged me to envision it for myself: First with gentle nudging, finally bluntly telling me outright to stop whining, at least apply to seminary and then see what would happen.
Here I am. Three years have passed. I am astonished to be midway into my MDIV and that it is already time to do internship. We will explore ways of imagining and expressing God’s great love for each of us and for the world. Thank you for opening your doors to me as I open my heart to who I am, to who you are and who we are together.
Lynda Lee
Pastoral Intern, Plymouth Creek Christian Church
Read more!
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Fall…
For professional football fans, August is typically a strange time. On the one hand, we’re bored. We’ve endured months of Sundays free of our beloved competition. We’ve memorized countless articles analyzing the prospects of our favorite teams. But by August, everything worthwhile has been said. Thrice. Thus, without actual games, we’re parched for novelty.
On the other hand, a whiff of newness arrives: training camp and preseason games. And to some, that’s very exciting. But to me and many, it’s a mirage in a desert, a stick-with-no-food at the State Fair. The games aren’t meaningful competition, just another excuse to rehash stale story lines. Aka, boredom with manufactured excitement. As I said, August is a strange time for NFL followers.
This August, however, was different. Many of us fans spent summer months arguing and analyzing, as football fans do, though it was about the NFL lockout, not the actual sport. But- glory be- that ended; the NFL opened for business. So this August, football fans had mere weeks to dream, despair and fantasize as fervently about the coming season as it usually takes us six months to accomplish. Boredom was not our challenge. Stamina for the month-long sprint was. And while that made August strange in a new way, it was refreshing.
I’ve often thought church folk have August lulls like football fans. It’s been months since our last great holiday; months until our next. Sunday School and choir took a hiatus way back in June. Friends, even the pastor, miss multiple Sundays- different ones than those we miss- so the typical ‘normal’ feels slightly askew. Some churchgoers even admit (rarely to the pastor!) that summer can feel a bit…boring. Although this August, with Baptisms, house moves, dedications and garden harvests, wasn’t as typical as many I’ve experienced.
Nevertheless, for gridiron and God fans…September has arrived! NFL competition begins in earnest September 8. Many churches plan “Rally Days” for when Sunday School activities get moving the following Sunday. The choir might even wear robes, once they reform (probably not, but their singing will be appreciated!). And it’s like the cycle has renewed, normalcy returns, plans become activities become memories and results.
And the question becomes- How has the summer prepared us? In football, the answer’s obvious. Either you strain a muscle or you don’t. Your team achieves more victories or they disappoint. Pretty quickly, the discerning fan learns whether her team’s offseason time was productive time. Whether all those dreams and arguments she’s been producing were intelligent or…wishful.
The analogy isn’t so clear for churches, though. How do you prepare spiritually for the return of the ‘Program Year’ (as some call it) or for, well, anything?! Prior to training camp, athletes lift more weights, memorize new playbooks, have corrective surgeries and the like. Christians, I guess, can read the Bible, pray at bedtime, practice compassion when neighbors in need come calling. But those are things we do whether Sunday School is meeting or not. Yes, the ‘neighbor’ in question might be at your summer cabin or on a family trip. The actions, though, don’t change; we don’t get a break from love.
But maybe there are points of relevant comparison. Taking time to rest and relax always does a body and spirit good. Also, Fall and Spring are times when churches most typically see visitors ‘checking them out.’ How we respond to these guests- with invigorated welcome or halfhearted yawns- might say something about how we’ve used the summer. SS teachers and choir directors obviously plan lessons and performances. But anyone can come to the Table with a fresh perspective or fun idea, a challenging project or prophetic thought. When folk were out doing the summer thing, maybe those weren’t as ripe for sharing. Now, though, a new season having begun, perhaps it’s time to call me up and add something to our church life together.
Whatever the case, I look forward to this new season- football, but especially church! And I hope you’re getting ready too. Plymouth Creek Sundays won’t feature the bone-crushing entertainment of our gridiron heroes, but I pray it’ll prove more exciting and …healthy over the long-term.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
On the other hand, a whiff of newness arrives: training camp and preseason games. And to some, that’s very exciting. But to me and many, it’s a mirage in a desert, a stick-with-no-food at the State Fair. The games aren’t meaningful competition, just another excuse to rehash stale story lines. Aka, boredom with manufactured excitement. As I said, August is a strange time for NFL followers.
This August, however, was different. Many of us fans spent summer months arguing and analyzing, as football fans do, though it was about the NFL lockout, not the actual sport. But- glory be- that ended; the NFL opened for business. So this August, football fans had mere weeks to dream, despair and fantasize as fervently about the coming season as it usually takes us six months to accomplish. Boredom was not our challenge. Stamina for the month-long sprint was. And while that made August strange in a new way, it was refreshing.
I’ve often thought church folk have August lulls like football fans. It’s been months since our last great holiday; months until our next. Sunday School and choir took a hiatus way back in June. Friends, even the pastor, miss multiple Sundays- different ones than those we miss- so the typical ‘normal’ feels slightly askew. Some churchgoers even admit (rarely to the pastor!) that summer can feel a bit…boring. Although this August, with Baptisms, house moves, dedications and garden harvests, wasn’t as typical as many I’ve experienced.
Nevertheless, for gridiron and God fans…September has arrived! NFL competition begins in earnest September 8. Many churches plan “Rally Days” for when Sunday School activities get moving the following Sunday. The choir might even wear robes, once they reform (probably not, but their singing will be appreciated!). And it’s like the cycle has renewed, normalcy returns, plans become activities become memories and results.
And the question becomes- How has the summer prepared us? In football, the answer’s obvious. Either you strain a muscle or you don’t. Your team achieves more victories or they disappoint. Pretty quickly, the discerning fan learns whether her team’s offseason time was productive time. Whether all those dreams and arguments she’s been producing were intelligent or…wishful.
The analogy isn’t so clear for churches, though. How do you prepare spiritually for the return of the ‘Program Year’ (as some call it) or for, well, anything?! Prior to training camp, athletes lift more weights, memorize new playbooks, have corrective surgeries and the like. Christians, I guess, can read the Bible, pray at bedtime, practice compassion when neighbors in need come calling. But those are things we do whether Sunday School is meeting or not. Yes, the ‘neighbor’ in question might be at your summer cabin or on a family trip. The actions, though, don’t change; we don’t get a break from love.
But maybe there are points of relevant comparison. Taking time to rest and relax always does a body and spirit good. Also, Fall and Spring are times when churches most typically see visitors ‘checking them out.’ How we respond to these guests- with invigorated welcome or halfhearted yawns- might say something about how we’ve used the summer. SS teachers and choir directors obviously plan lessons and performances. But anyone can come to the Table with a fresh perspective or fun idea, a challenging project or prophetic thought. When folk were out doing the summer thing, maybe those weren’t as ripe for sharing. Now, though, a new season having begun, perhaps it’s time to call me up and add something to our church life together.
Whatever the case, I look forward to this new season- football, but especially church! And I hope you’re getting ready too. Plymouth Creek Sundays won’t feature the bone-crushing entertainment of our gridiron heroes, but I pray it’ll prove more exciting and …healthy over the long-term.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
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