Our annual church budget is about $145,000; not huge, but given our size, it’s not tiny either. Together, we make more happen than any observer would likely expect! But supposed we more than doubled that amount, and not simply it to pay more bills, but to change the lives of neighbors in need? Plus, it strengthened our budget too?
I’m referring, of course, to the building project I wrote about last week. I mentioned that we’re approaching a decision point, following meetings with contractors. Some of you wanted further details before a congregational meeting. That seemed sensible. So here’s more, with final details to come.
First, the expansion’s scope. Basically, we’re looking at 8 or so additional rooms- some new construction attached to the west wing, some renovation of that space. Everything will be “dual use,” meaning what’s used by the child care center during business hours is accessible to church programming after. Plus, our kitchen will be renovated, probably expanded.
Consider what that allows… No longer are kids and youth crowded out or crammed into hallways. No longer are adults battling for enough space for classes or meetings. No longer are ministry ideas postponed due to no room. Instead, we’d have sufficient space for better activities now, plus significant room for development. Also, we’d have a dedicated fellowship hall again, a better kitchen, enhanced welcoming and gathering areas. Music ministry space would enlarge, moving closer to the sanctuary. In other words, we’d finally have room to grow.
So would Yellow Brick Road child care, which brings us to the project’s financing. We received a proposal last Monday estimating $784,000. We’re glad for hard numbers, finally! They’re also larger than we wanted, so we’ve asked the builders to cut costs, while our and YBR leadership explore further savings ideas. Ultimately, we think it’s possible to get to $500,000-$550,000. Plus, those numbers represent more than new space for kids and programing. They also achieve several long-discussed church goals.
For instance, heating and cooling would be extended throughout the building, meaning increased energy efficiency, plus AC in the sanctuary and fellowship hall (finally!). We’d tackle other deferred maintenance, like kitchen cleaning/updating and replacing deteriorating windows. We’d solve the serious problem of how YBR’s operations accelerates depreciation and unsightliness in our hospitality centers and bathrooms. Some issues would remain, but we’d make significant progress.
To pay for it, we’d apply to Church Extension, our current loan holder. Assuming they back the project, and once it’s complete, we’d collect increased rent from YBR to cover the increased mortgage. We’d sign a 20-year lease so we both have long-term security and commitment, which would carry us beyond the 15-year repayment period. Also, current YBR contributions to our budget would continue, stabilizing that essential income for decades. Finally, to afford their portion, YBR will open 17 new spaces, hopefully all given to kids from low-income families on IOCP and county scholarships. Those scholarships represent at least $10,000 annually invested in a struggling family’s future. So it’s like our budget more than doubles in perpetuity, solely for outreach purposes, because we’re willing to risk opening our building to young families surrounded by service and love.
Please know that one possible challenge will be securing the 10% down payment Church Extension requires. We’ve agreed to provide at least half, considering how much benefit we’ll receive. Because YBR has paid architect fees thus far (over $10,000), we’re looking at needing $30,000-$50,000 cash-on-hand to secure loan approval. That may seem like a lot to come up with, and soon. Can we do it? It could mean repurposing some funds collected for previous facility improvements. As well, we may need new pledges and donations from Plymouth Creekers and friends. Will you help with that? It’s a big ask, I know. But I suspect that the more we ponder the stunning impact of what could be, the more we’re willing to give to make it happen.
After all, there’s glory in these details. We’d have a church that literally screamed, “We care about families! Bring yours here! Let’s grow together!” We’d worship, learn and fellowship in more attractive, comfortable places. We’d have more energy and capacity for reaching out, and a more stable budget and facility outlook. Plus, we’d literally change the odds for many families and kids needing help to beat bad odds. And that’s worth risking for. We built this church, after all, for something enormous: Ushering in God’s Kingdom among us. With your help, we can take a huge step on that journey.
Please let me know your concerns or hopes, and any financial support you’d like to provide.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Making space…
Several weeks back, our sanctuary and hallways were packed with young kids running and playing, while parents tried desperately to corral them. I found this moment wonderful, knowing that these kids felt safe to be joyful and glad, curious and bouncy. I’ve been to churches where kids sit scared in the corner, silent. That makes me sad. By contrast, I’m uplifted by a faith community whose commitment to Christ’s radical hospitality is so pronounced they make space for tomorrow’s leaders to grow freely, surrounded by love.
And that’s what I observed. As you might suspect, this wasn’t a Sunday morning. Our church has few families with young kids, currently. Instead, it was a Monday night when our child care center partner hosted a fundraiser with its families and friends. So they (carefully!) pushed aside the sanctuary’s chairs, put up our round tables, set up our longer tables in the hallways, on which they arranged baskets for a silent auction. Their parents brought food for a dinner potluck. From 4:30-6:30, they ate and mingled, and raised money. I laughed because our Board met that night, and the only space we could find was in the choir room! All was back to normal by our meeting’s end.
Few things could better highlight why some of our leadership has been working on something for nearly a year. We’ve talked about this project some over that time, but since a culmination nears, I figured an update’s in order. I’m referring, as you’ve surely guessed, to the building expansion we’re exploring with Yellow Brick Road.
Basically, this involves constructing more space for the church and child care to expand operations. YBR will offer up to 17 additional slots to kids from poor families, scholarshipped through state/county funds and IOCP. Remember that research increasingly suggests that high quality child care for poor kids is the most reliable investment society can make to reduce generational poverty. So we’d help accomplish that for many neighbors in need. Plus, we’d eliminate the “not enough space” problem that presently limits our ministry options. The fellowship hall would re-open, as would other rooms. We could shift energy from setting up and tearing down, to welcoming and serving others. The funding mechanism would be a 20-year lease with YBR, locking in that relationship and its financial support for our budget for the long-term, while an increase in their rent covered construction costs.
Why I’m rehashing that now is because we’ve finally transitioned from dream to actual plan. In recent weeks, our design firm has presented, then updated, architectural drawings in conversation with YBR and church leadership. We’ve shared those with a general contractor, who is currently pulling together real cost estimates. Once those are finalized, it’ll be time for the Board and congregation to consider, and hopefully approve, a loan application. You’ll receive computer-drawn 3-D images, further financial details and more at a soon-to-be scheduled congregational meeting.
Or you can talk with me, Tom Jarvi, Martha Francis or any Board member for further information. I’d gladly discuss this in great detail, because it’s a big decision about our church’s future- how we’ll get there, what it will be. We know that future has challenges. We’re not a big congregation, nor the youngest, and sometimes it feels we have little room to maneuver. Yet we’ve always given and done more than any outside observer would have right to expect! That’s because we’re gifted by God, and called to share those gifts, those values with others. So the question, for me, has become- Will we bet on our continued ability to fulfill that calling, or worry it’s too much?
You know my answer: I bet on us, and God. It’s why I’ve worked hard on this project, and believe in what it will mean. Greater budget stability, increased community visibility, enhanced ministry capacity, grander commitment to kids and the poor. Or, put simply, more space for God to work with and through us to accomplish God’s purpose and dreams. Which is why we do church, amen?! Not just to sustain a building, or gather weekly with friends, but to follow Jesus on an ever-evolving, forever-uplifting adventure we call…Grace.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
And that’s what I observed. As you might suspect, this wasn’t a Sunday morning. Our church has few families with young kids, currently. Instead, it was a Monday night when our child care center partner hosted a fundraiser with its families and friends. So they (carefully!) pushed aside the sanctuary’s chairs, put up our round tables, set up our longer tables in the hallways, on which they arranged baskets for a silent auction. Their parents brought food for a dinner potluck. From 4:30-6:30, they ate and mingled, and raised money. I laughed because our Board met that night, and the only space we could find was in the choir room! All was back to normal by our meeting’s end.
Few things could better highlight why some of our leadership has been working on something for nearly a year. We’ve talked about this project some over that time, but since a culmination nears, I figured an update’s in order. I’m referring, as you’ve surely guessed, to the building expansion we’re exploring with Yellow Brick Road.
Basically, this involves constructing more space for the church and child care to expand operations. YBR will offer up to 17 additional slots to kids from poor families, scholarshipped through state/county funds and IOCP. Remember that research increasingly suggests that high quality child care for poor kids is the most reliable investment society can make to reduce generational poverty. So we’d help accomplish that for many neighbors in need. Plus, we’d eliminate the “not enough space” problem that presently limits our ministry options. The fellowship hall would re-open, as would other rooms. We could shift energy from setting up and tearing down, to welcoming and serving others. The funding mechanism would be a 20-year lease with YBR, locking in that relationship and its financial support for our budget for the long-term, while an increase in their rent covered construction costs.
Why I’m rehashing that now is because we’ve finally transitioned from dream to actual plan. In recent weeks, our design firm has presented, then updated, architectural drawings in conversation with YBR and church leadership. We’ve shared those with a general contractor, who is currently pulling together real cost estimates. Once those are finalized, it’ll be time for the Board and congregation to consider, and hopefully approve, a loan application. You’ll receive computer-drawn 3-D images, further financial details and more at a soon-to-be scheduled congregational meeting.
Or you can talk with me, Tom Jarvi, Martha Francis or any Board member for further information. I’d gladly discuss this in great detail, because it’s a big decision about our church’s future- how we’ll get there, what it will be. We know that future has challenges. We’re not a big congregation, nor the youngest, and sometimes it feels we have little room to maneuver. Yet we’ve always given and done more than any outside observer would have right to expect! That’s because we’re gifted by God, and called to share those gifts, those values with others. So the question, for me, has become- Will we bet on our continued ability to fulfill that calling, or worry it’s too much?
You know my answer: I bet on us, and God. It’s why I’ve worked hard on this project, and believe in what it will mean. Greater budget stability, increased community visibility, enhanced ministry capacity, grander commitment to kids and the poor. Or, put simply, more space for God to work with and through us to accomplish God’s purpose and dreams. Which is why we do church, amen?! Not just to sustain a building, or gather weekly with friends, but to follow Jesus on an ever-evolving, forever-uplifting adventure we call…Grace.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
What’s weird…
I recently had another of those now-frequent foster parenting learning moments. It occurred because, in our home, active use of one’s imagination is an encouraged pursuit. By which I mean that it’s frequent, and expected, for our six year-old to ask, just after waking, questions like, “What if you and I were cheetahs, and we raced a tiger? Who would win?” The answer is always, always, “You win!”
From there, the imaginative conversation continues through dressing time, breakfast, teeth-brushing. Topics are sometimes familiar, like sharks or Ninja Turtles. Other times, we explore outlandish realms of his imagination. And he’s always hoping for a reaction, which presents a challenge. Because I’m not always clear whether he’s wanting, say, affirmation, as in, “Absolutely! It’d be awesome if we had race car tires for feet, obviously!” Or maybe he’s going for mutual dismissal, as in, “I wouldn’t want race car tires for feet either!” Or something entirely different. In other words, his intention can be initially ambiguous and, therefore, fraught with danger. If I reject something he wanted me to affirm, the joy we’ve been sharing diminishes, and the conversation ends.
So how to respond? Well, I recently hit on an idea of which I’ve become inordinately proud. You see, for a while I’d sometimes react to his wild imaginings with, “That’s weird!” It then occurred to me that ‘weird’ isn’t a value-neutral description, right? So-called ‘weird’ people are shunned people in our culture, weird ideas considered bad ideas. We’re intolerant of (whatever we define as) weird.
But the goal of these conversations isn’t to instill in him a culturally constrained sense of what’s weird and what isn’t. Honestly, I’m skeptical of our collective rejection of ‘weirdness’. That’s often us simply being judgmental. Instead, I want him to feel free to explore his imaginings and hopes, his joys and flights of fantasy. That will help him be more creative, more confident, more open, more compassionate to others and himself. So there are times in our chats when he wants me to say, “that’s weird,” with him. And I do. And we laugh. But other times, I’d hurt his feelings if I mistakenly called ‘weird’ something he’s discussing because he thinks it fun or interesting.
Thus, my (self-proclaimed) brilliant idea- I decided that, from now on, whenever the little guy shares something wild and crazy, instead of reacting with “that’s weird,” I’ll try instead to say, “that’s unexpected.” I know, this insight probably won’t change your life, and has maybe already occurred to you. But it’s new to me. And I wish I’d framed such issues in those terms long before I had a kid in our home. After all, in high school, we spent way too much time deciding who was or wasn’t weird (or in my case, worrying about whether others considered me so!). With that moniker came shame and isolation, lower confidence and less creativity. If, by contrast, I just thought in terms of what was expected or not, I’d probably have carried around less baggage.
And, sadly, I didn’t leave those judgmental attitudes behind in adolescence. Adults are as quick as kids and teens to isolate, to ignore, to fear, to pre-judge others they consider ‘weird.’ Is this a defense mechanism? A way to scapegoat someone so we feel less bad about ourselves? Are we so stressed about family, bills, work that we’d rather not work at understanding unexpected things? Does that sound too tiring, so we call them weird? I’m not sure which the right description is. All of the above and more? All I know is that we invest too much moral importance into whether people or things we encounter match our expectations, our pre-decided beliefs about what’s appropriate, polite, acceptable, decent. Pick your poison.
But we serve a Savior who built many relationships with folk his contemporaries thought marginal, indecent, sinful, awkward. AKA weird. Yet he went to the grave and returned to champion these unexpected ones. People like us. That wasn’t weird behavior. It was divine, amen? However unexpected, it also changed the world. For good. It should change us.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
From there, the imaginative conversation continues through dressing time, breakfast, teeth-brushing. Topics are sometimes familiar, like sharks or Ninja Turtles. Other times, we explore outlandish realms of his imagination. And he’s always hoping for a reaction, which presents a challenge. Because I’m not always clear whether he’s wanting, say, affirmation, as in, “Absolutely! It’d be awesome if we had race car tires for feet, obviously!” Or maybe he’s going for mutual dismissal, as in, “I wouldn’t want race car tires for feet either!” Or something entirely different. In other words, his intention can be initially ambiguous and, therefore, fraught with danger. If I reject something he wanted me to affirm, the joy we’ve been sharing diminishes, and the conversation ends.
So how to respond? Well, I recently hit on an idea of which I’ve become inordinately proud. You see, for a while I’d sometimes react to his wild imaginings with, “That’s weird!” It then occurred to me that ‘weird’ isn’t a value-neutral description, right? So-called ‘weird’ people are shunned people in our culture, weird ideas considered bad ideas. We’re intolerant of (whatever we define as) weird.
But the goal of these conversations isn’t to instill in him a culturally constrained sense of what’s weird and what isn’t. Honestly, I’m skeptical of our collective rejection of ‘weirdness’. That’s often us simply being judgmental. Instead, I want him to feel free to explore his imaginings and hopes, his joys and flights of fantasy. That will help him be more creative, more confident, more open, more compassionate to others and himself. So there are times in our chats when he wants me to say, “that’s weird,” with him. And I do. And we laugh. But other times, I’d hurt his feelings if I mistakenly called ‘weird’ something he’s discussing because he thinks it fun or interesting.
Thus, my (self-proclaimed) brilliant idea- I decided that, from now on, whenever the little guy shares something wild and crazy, instead of reacting with “that’s weird,” I’ll try instead to say, “that’s unexpected.” I know, this insight probably won’t change your life, and has maybe already occurred to you. But it’s new to me. And I wish I’d framed such issues in those terms long before I had a kid in our home. After all, in high school, we spent way too much time deciding who was or wasn’t weird (or in my case, worrying about whether others considered me so!). With that moniker came shame and isolation, lower confidence and less creativity. If, by contrast, I just thought in terms of what was expected or not, I’d probably have carried around less baggage.
And, sadly, I didn’t leave those judgmental attitudes behind in adolescence. Adults are as quick as kids and teens to isolate, to ignore, to fear, to pre-judge others they consider ‘weird.’ Is this a defense mechanism? A way to scapegoat someone so we feel less bad about ourselves? Are we so stressed about family, bills, work that we’d rather not work at understanding unexpected things? Does that sound too tiring, so we call them weird? I’m not sure which the right description is. All of the above and more? All I know is that we invest too much moral importance into whether people or things we encounter match our expectations, our pre-decided beliefs about what’s appropriate, polite, acceptable, decent. Pick your poison.
But we serve a Savior who built many relationships with folk his contemporaries thought marginal, indecent, sinful, awkward. AKA weird. Yet he went to the grave and returned to champion these unexpected ones. People like us. That wasn’t weird behavior. It was divine, amen? However unexpected, it also changed the world. For good. It should change us.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, January 8, 2015
Lights, Cameras, Actions!...
Since I began preaching weekly, I’ve maintained what I consider a fun tradition. Every January, I’ve taken a break from our usual sermon practice and looked to movies for guidance. The Cinema Sermon Series, we call it, always matching film with scripture, believing that this interplay between sacred text and contemporary storytelling can shine new light on our faith. But the selections I make aren’t just random. The series isn’t, “Let’s watch Shane’s favorite flicks!” Indeed, several movies I find profound spiritual value in (like Dogma or Fight Club) haven’t made the cut, and probably won’t, alas.
Rather, I always attempt to explore a theme I believe will be useful to us over the coming year. 2015 will continue that practice, though I’ve made one perhaps significant shift. This year, I’m connecting the CSS theme with a larger subject that will occupy our attention through Lent. In other words, the movies and scriptures we pair together will tell part of a bigger story I’m betting will matter to us in 2015. Or I should say that “we’re betting,” since I had help from the Servant Leaders in crafting this direction.
So without further ado, here’s what you can expect from church this Winter and Spring. First, the overarching theme will be a question: What’s so great about Jesus? Last autumn, we asked a series of challenging questions about faith, God and modern life. The Sunday School learned about Judaism and Islam. It was wonderful! Yet through it all ran the issue of Christian identity. Our church does well at being open-hearted and open-minded, welcoming neighbors of diverse practices, family structures and beliefs. But how do we practice those life-affirming values while naming what distinguishes our church, our lives as Christians?
Well, the most basic answer, most would say and they’re right, is Jesus; what he said, what he did, who he was. But aren’t there seemingly as many descriptions of Jesus as there are different churches?! Plus, many famous claims about Christ don’t align well with the values that inspire our church. So we’re going to tackle this identity question head on, now until Easter, asking, “What’s so great about Jesus?” Because he’s pretty great, I think…
Ultimately, our journey in answering that question be an exercise in contrasts, inspired by early Christians whose description of Jesus’ greatness was that he’s fully God and fully human, in some mysterious, remarkable way. The CSS begins the quest. Here’s its title- Jesus: The Ultimate Hero. Therefore, we’re watching hero movies, because hero movies are awesome. The first- for this Sunday, January 11 (screening at church the Saturday before at 1pm, as with all our movies)- will be 1978’s Superman: The Movie. Then, we’ll watch Batman: The Dark Knight, The Lego Movie and end with one of American cinema’s greatest heroes, however atypical, in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. The scriptures will all be famous scenes and sayings for Jesus’ life in the Gospels. We’ll study those scriptures together during Sunday School (9am; come and grow!). That will take us to Lent.
Then, we’ll flip the script entirely. Our Lenten title will be- Jesus: The Vulnerable Anti-Hero. Again, our source material will be significant stories and saying from his life, but this time, they’ll highlight his hardships, his difficulties, those moments he seems very human, and approachable. Taken together, then, to and through Easter, we’ll paint a broad picture of this man we’ve learned to call Savior, whose life and love inspired the dynamic values that still inspire us.
And that remain critical to the world around us, which Christ urged us not just to serve, but to invite into community of faith. That’s hard for modern churches like ours who’re rightly sensitive about respecting neighbors’ opinions. Yet one great thing about Jesus was how hospitable he was, while also practicing kindness. This year, I hope we can learn that story better, how to tell it better, how to live it better. For as our denomination describes us, we’re called to be and share the Good News of Jesus. News some might even describe as great!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Rather, I always attempt to explore a theme I believe will be useful to us over the coming year. 2015 will continue that practice, though I’ve made one perhaps significant shift. This year, I’m connecting the CSS theme with a larger subject that will occupy our attention through Lent. In other words, the movies and scriptures we pair together will tell part of a bigger story I’m betting will matter to us in 2015. Or I should say that “we’re betting,” since I had help from the Servant Leaders in crafting this direction.
So without further ado, here’s what you can expect from church this Winter and Spring. First, the overarching theme will be a question: What’s so great about Jesus? Last autumn, we asked a series of challenging questions about faith, God and modern life. The Sunday School learned about Judaism and Islam. It was wonderful! Yet through it all ran the issue of Christian identity. Our church does well at being open-hearted and open-minded, welcoming neighbors of diverse practices, family structures and beliefs. But how do we practice those life-affirming values while naming what distinguishes our church, our lives as Christians?
Well, the most basic answer, most would say and they’re right, is Jesus; what he said, what he did, who he was. But aren’t there seemingly as many descriptions of Jesus as there are different churches?! Plus, many famous claims about Christ don’t align well with the values that inspire our church. So we’re going to tackle this identity question head on, now until Easter, asking, “What’s so great about Jesus?” Because he’s pretty great, I think…
Ultimately, our journey in answering that question be an exercise in contrasts, inspired by early Christians whose description of Jesus’ greatness was that he’s fully God and fully human, in some mysterious, remarkable way. The CSS begins the quest. Here’s its title- Jesus: The Ultimate Hero. Therefore, we’re watching hero movies, because hero movies are awesome. The first- for this Sunday, January 11 (screening at church the Saturday before at 1pm, as with all our movies)- will be 1978’s Superman: The Movie. Then, we’ll watch Batman: The Dark Knight, The Lego Movie and end with one of American cinema’s greatest heroes, however atypical, in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. The scriptures will all be famous scenes and sayings for Jesus’ life in the Gospels. We’ll study those scriptures together during Sunday School (9am; come and grow!). That will take us to Lent.
Then, we’ll flip the script entirely. Our Lenten title will be- Jesus: The Vulnerable Anti-Hero. Again, our source material will be significant stories and saying from his life, but this time, they’ll highlight his hardships, his difficulties, those moments he seems very human, and approachable. Taken together, then, to and through Easter, we’ll paint a broad picture of this man we’ve learned to call Savior, whose life and love inspired the dynamic values that still inspire us.
And that remain critical to the world around us, which Christ urged us not just to serve, but to invite into community of faith. That’s hard for modern churches like ours who’re rightly sensitive about respecting neighbors’ opinions. Yet one great thing about Jesus was how hospitable he was, while also practicing kindness. This year, I hope we can learn that story better, how to tell it better, how to live it better. For as our denomination describes us, we’re called to be and share the Good News of Jesus. News some might even describe as great!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Mundane meaning…
First of all, I wanted to say thank you to the congregation for helping with my unique situation last Sunday. If you were elsewhere, here’s what happened. I’d planned- months ago- to have a guest preacher the Sunday following Christmas. Tabitha and I were going to her family’s farm in Mississippi, as we’ve done for years. Lo and behold, come early November, we became foster parents, and foster parents need court orders to take kids out-of-state. Wasn’t going to happen that soon! Sorry Deb and Johnny; we’ll make it another time!
Still, I didn’t cancel our guest minister (former PCCC intern and talented future minister, Hayden Kvamme). I simply told him, “Look, you focus on preaching. I’ll take the rest of the service.” It made my workweek lighter, and was a lovely, workable plan. Then, Tabitha’s grandmother died. The funeral was last Saturday, in Illinois. So for the first time in my life, I was solely responsible for a child from Friday night to Sunday afternoon. I was really scared!
I mean, could I handle all the playing, feeding, bathing, book reading…alone?! And at church, he’s spent the past month with Tabitha, out of the sanctuary, playing around, and is still getting used to new people in a new environment- with expectations he’s not sure about- and he doesn’t understand, though certainly notices, the not-so-subtle, sometimes annoyed glances and signals they’re trying send, because they’re still getting used to him (and to multiple kids at church again), and he’s a delight, but a handful, and didn’t I already say I was, if not preaching, nevertheless working? And…Ahhhh!
That was my anxious internal monologue last week. Again, Thank you; we survived!! Folk were understanding and quick to offer help, though all he did was watch toy videos with headphones on. Whatever works, amen?! Indeed, the entire weekend felt that way- whatever works, just make it through, check the big boxes of sleep, reading, food, but otherwise, let him basically set the agenda.
Which means I spent much of last weekend crawling on the ground, zooming toy cars back-and-forth. We took Fawkes the Dog for a walk, and that became a two-person/one-canine game of tag on a muddy baseball field. “Downtime” found us watching multiple three-minute YouTube videos, each showing someone playing with a different matchbox car track or toy rescue ship. Minute after minute, hour after hour, our time ticked by in such fashion.
And it was beautiful. It was also incredibly mundane, but surprisingly more profound for being so. After all, we didn’t really accomplish anything. The wooden workbench he got for Christmas still sits in its box, unassembled. We did some coloring, read books, but didn’t make progress on his subtraction skills. We played. We made things up, and swapped funny faces, and pretended to race with cheetahs. When it finished, and he was in bed, my imagination- and back- muscles were sore! Yet I still like I’d accomplished something amazing. He was happy. He knew he was cared for. He was learning he could be himself, and that’s enough to make his life a blast! If not for that endless succession of mundane moments together, I’m not sure the weekend would’ve been so meaningful.
Don’t we often describe God as our Divine Parent, who’s always with us? I usually remember that conviction when I’m stressed, needing help, praying, “God, bring me peace!” But what if I invited God into my mundane moments? Or just noticed God is there too? I typically associate deep spirituality with bible study or meditation, not playtime or potato peeling, but maybe should change. I mean, if my weekend of solo foster dadding was so jampacked with ordinary, incredible meaningfulness, then maybe our Divine Parent- so anxious for a closer relationship with us- would relish my normalness just as much, if not more. Even be glad to let me set the agenda, as long as we ticked off those big boxes of kindness, compassion and grace. Next time I’m watching the Broncos, then, perhaps I’ll pray, “Hey God, did you see that?!” I know S/He’s a fan, maybe not of Denver football, but certainly of you and me.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Still, I didn’t cancel our guest minister (former PCCC intern and talented future minister, Hayden Kvamme). I simply told him, “Look, you focus on preaching. I’ll take the rest of the service.” It made my workweek lighter, and was a lovely, workable plan. Then, Tabitha’s grandmother died. The funeral was last Saturday, in Illinois. So for the first time in my life, I was solely responsible for a child from Friday night to Sunday afternoon. I was really scared!
I mean, could I handle all the playing, feeding, bathing, book reading…alone?! And at church, he’s spent the past month with Tabitha, out of the sanctuary, playing around, and is still getting used to new people in a new environment- with expectations he’s not sure about- and he doesn’t understand, though certainly notices, the not-so-subtle, sometimes annoyed glances and signals they’re trying send, because they’re still getting used to him (and to multiple kids at church again), and he’s a delight, but a handful, and didn’t I already say I was, if not preaching, nevertheless working? And…Ahhhh!
That was my anxious internal monologue last week. Again, Thank you; we survived!! Folk were understanding and quick to offer help, though all he did was watch toy videos with headphones on. Whatever works, amen?! Indeed, the entire weekend felt that way- whatever works, just make it through, check the big boxes of sleep, reading, food, but otherwise, let him basically set the agenda.
Which means I spent much of last weekend crawling on the ground, zooming toy cars back-and-forth. We took Fawkes the Dog for a walk, and that became a two-person/one-canine game of tag on a muddy baseball field. “Downtime” found us watching multiple three-minute YouTube videos, each showing someone playing with a different matchbox car track or toy rescue ship. Minute after minute, hour after hour, our time ticked by in such fashion.
And it was beautiful. It was also incredibly mundane, but surprisingly more profound for being so. After all, we didn’t really accomplish anything. The wooden workbench he got for Christmas still sits in its box, unassembled. We did some coloring, read books, but didn’t make progress on his subtraction skills. We played. We made things up, and swapped funny faces, and pretended to race with cheetahs. When it finished, and he was in bed, my imagination- and back- muscles were sore! Yet I still like I’d accomplished something amazing. He was happy. He knew he was cared for. He was learning he could be himself, and that’s enough to make his life a blast! If not for that endless succession of mundane moments together, I’m not sure the weekend would’ve been so meaningful.
Don’t we often describe God as our Divine Parent, who’s always with us? I usually remember that conviction when I’m stressed, needing help, praying, “God, bring me peace!” But what if I invited God into my mundane moments? Or just noticed God is there too? I typically associate deep spirituality with bible study or meditation, not playtime or potato peeling, but maybe should change. I mean, if my weekend of solo foster dadding was so jampacked with ordinary, incredible meaningfulness, then maybe our Divine Parent- so anxious for a closer relationship with us- would relish my normalness just as much, if not more. Even be glad to let me set the agenda, as long as we ticked off those big boxes of kindness, compassion and grace. Next time I’m watching the Broncos, then, perhaps I’ll pray, “Hey God, did you see that?!” I know S/He’s a fan, maybe not of Denver football, but certainly of you and me.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Celebrating Ministry,
About four years ago, Plymouth Creek began an incredible ministry, especially once you consider our church’s small size. We committed to- every Sunday- providing a bus driver to PCCC members and guests with difficulty driving to worship. The large congregation I served in Lexington, Kentucky also ran a bus ministry. They stopped by three elder living facilities around town weekly, then dropped folk off after service. I had that model in mind when we started our own journey, with one significant shift: Our pool of potential drivers was about one-tenth the size!
But we made it work, and spectacularly. Let me remind you how we were able to create this service, and why. Around ten years back, one of our sister congregations, in Fridley, ended their active ministry; to use language from one our founding documents, they “dissolved into the greater Body of Christ.” From everything I’ve heard and seen, this church- Valley View Christian- was a beautiful, close-knit group of faithful Disciples. Unfortunately, the march of time and shifting societal values (not to mention a retaining wall built for I-694 that shrouded Valley View from public view) conspired with other things to challenge their ability to sustain a budget. Ask Ruth for the full story!
So they closed their doors, sold their building, gave some money to SACA- the local foodshelf- and the remaining proceeds were invested, with earned interest designated to help Disciples churches seed new ministries. It was a beautiful, generous vision. But before others could access those funds, Valley View members needed, still, to get to church!
Well, several joined Plymouth Creek, so we initially received that interest to hire a weekly bus service to transport these folk, their guests, and others. The Valley View fund, then, was paused from helping others as originally envisioned. Unless…say…the Valley View fund gave PCCC money to buy and operate a bus ourselves…and if several PCCCers committed to helping, by driving, their neighbors. So we asked around and what do you know?! A group of volunteer drivers said Yes!
We applied for the funds. We got them. We bought a bus. And now, we bring these dear friends to worship weekly, while they bring their friends and neighbors (some whom have joined our church). Plus, throughout Minnesota and Iowa, churches annually apply to the Valley View fund for help create new ministries, including youth work, food pantries and enhanced elder care. A teenager dying from cancer attended a football game for her beloved Iowa State, because of that money. Which is to say, because you- Plymouth Creek- said, “Yes, I’ll serve by driving!” Our church, and many other lives, are simply better.
I write about this for several reasons. For some of you, we’ve had a bus that some drive weekly for as long as you’ve been here, and didn’t know why. Some of you maybe forgot that story, or never knew its full impact, and perhaps took for granted what great ministry it does and is! But I also wanted to share that our initial cadre of bus drivers has diminished, for several reasons- health, say, or moving- all of them important and fine. But that means those who remain have gone from driving once every two months to once every month, and while they’re wonderful, giving souls, I worry that will provide them too much of a burden.
So I’m hoping a couple of you- men and women (there’s no rule that only dudes can drive!)- will reflect on this ministry’s value, and celebrate its success by saying Yes! to being a driver yourself? If so, call me, and not only will I celebrate with you, I’ll also give you one of the special, coveted Plymouth Creek bus driver caps…
And thanks for considering, dear friends. Consider it a potential Christmas/New Year’s gift you can give, not just to your church, but many others besides. As our Regional Minister loves to say, we are Disciples Together, and that’s awesome, because by working together, worshipping together, being together we make God’s world better.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Isner
P.S.- FYI, anyone’s welcome to ride along to see this ministry in action, or if you’re wondering about utilizing it sometime, which you’re welcome to…just let me know!
P.P.S- Get ready for the 2015 Cinema Sermon Series, starting January 10/11 with…Superman!! Read more!
But we made it work, and spectacularly. Let me remind you how we were able to create this service, and why. Around ten years back, one of our sister congregations, in Fridley, ended their active ministry; to use language from one our founding documents, they “dissolved into the greater Body of Christ.” From everything I’ve heard and seen, this church- Valley View Christian- was a beautiful, close-knit group of faithful Disciples. Unfortunately, the march of time and shifting societal values (not to mention a retaining wall built for I-694 that shrouded Valley View from public view) conspired with other things to challenge their ability to sustain a budget. Ask Ruth for the full story!
So they closed their doors, sold their building, gave some money to SACA- the local foodshelf- and the remaining proceeds were invested, with earned interest designated to help Disciples churches seed new ministries. It was a beautiful, generous vision. But before others could access those funds, Valley View members needed, still, to get to church!
Well, several joined Plymouth Creek, so we initially received that interest to hire a weekly bus service to transport these folk, their guests, and others. The Valley View fund, then, was paused from helping others as originally envisioned. Unless…say…the Valley View fund gave PCCC money to buy and operate a bus ourselves…and if several PCCCers committed to helping, by driving, their neighbors. So we asked around and what do you know?! A group of volunteer drivers said Yes!
We applied for the funds. We got them. We bought a bus. And now, we bring these dear friends to worship weekly, while they bring their friends and neighbors (some whom have joined our church). Plus, throughout Minnesota and Iowa, churches annually apply to the Valley View fund for help create new ministries, including youth work, food pantries and enhanced elder care. A teenager dying from cancer attended a football game for her beloved Iowa State, because of that money. Which is to say, because you- Plymouth Creek- said, “Yes, I’ll serve by driving!” Our church, and many other lives, are simply better.
I write about this for several reasons. For some of you, we’ve had a bus that some drive weekly for as long as you’ve been here, and didn’t know why. Some of you maybe forgot that story, or never knew its full impact, and perhaps took for granted what great ministry it does and is! But I also wanted to share that our initial cadre of bus drivers has diminished, for several reasons- health, say, or moving- all of them important and fine. But that means those who remain have gone from driving once every two months to once every month, and while they’re wonderful, giving souls, I worry that will provide them too much of a burden.
So I’m hoping a couple of you- men and women (there’s no rule that only dudes can drive!)- will reflect on this ministry’s value, and celebrate its success by saying Yes! to being a driver yourself? If so, call me, and not only will I celebrate with you, I’ll also give you one of the special, coveted Plymouth Creek bus driver caps…
And thanks for considering, dear friends. Consider it a potential Christmas/New Year’s gift you can give, not just to your church, but many others besides. As our Regional Minister loves to say, we are Disciples Together, and that’s awesome, because by working together, worshipping together, being together we make God’s world better.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Isner
P.S.- FYI, anyone’s welcome to ride along to see this ministry in action, or if you’re wondering about utilizing it sometime, which you’re welcome to…just let me know!
P.P.S- Get ready for the 2015 Cinema Sermon Series, starting January 10/11 with…Superman!! Read more!
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Loyal priorities…
My fraternity used to hold our annual initiation ceremony in a nearby cave. The setting proved moving to each initiate. We’d begin before sunrise, so newbies walked into the ritual cloaked in darkness. The cave was a tourist site, so it had lighting along the walkways and walls, which we used to dramatic effect. The facility’s caretaker had been a fraternity brother during college, hence our use of that cave. And we loved it! It’s added gravitas and perspective, plus a big helping of cheesy melodrama, but hey, it was college…
After my junior year, however, we stopped using that cave after its owners informed us we were no longer welcome. The reason was simple. During our ceremony that year, one brother arrived intoxicated and caused problems. While everyone else got organized, he stumbled around sections we’d been told were off-limits. He broke a precious stalagmite. He defecated on the floor. The caretaker who’d vouched for us was justifiably furious. We were embarrassed. What happened next, however, has remained with me as an incredible lesson in ethics. My fraternity had a decision to make: What should we do about this brother- and friend- who’d cost us so dearly?
Some immediately demanded he be expelled from the fraternity. It was a serious moral failure, they said, not to mention misconduct covered by our by-laws. Others, however, believed we had a deeper commitment- loyalty to our brother- and that priority trumped all. “Make him pay a fine,” they said. “Or do community service. He’s apologized, after all. Isn’t that enough? Plus, he’s our brother. We can’t be disloyal.”
This popped to mind recently for several reasons. First, the US Senate produced a report detailing America’s use of torture in the aftermath of 9/11. Some were horrified and outraged by that behavior. Others said we shouldn’t disparage CIA patriots just trying to keep us safe. That would be disloyal, they claimed, and in the face of continued threats by brutal lunatics like the (so-called) Islamic State, we must remain staunchly, unmovably loyal. Whatever moral failure this torture represented- this thinking goes- is secondary to loyalty.
In roughly similar fashion, the (to my mind) more repulsive behavior of those in the (so-called) Islamic State- sex slavery, beheadings- is often done in Islam’s name, an ethically demanding religion that historically condemns such acts. Nevertheless, IS fighters do it, explicitly targeting folk they consider threatening, yet described as apostate or heathen, aka “not in my tribe.” Thus, they’re being loyal to “their own” by terrorizing others “not like them.” And so they justify practices that, in other contexts, even they would deem morally abhorrent.
The point is that in those, and other diverse situations, a tension develops between loyalty and other virtues, with loyalty competing among goodness, respect or compassion for top billing. Use that idea to reflect on the behavior of some police and protestors in recent stories about Ferguson, Staten Island or other killings of unarmed black men, and it helps explain many strident responses. Loyalty is powerful, and for some it’s the highest- or only- moral priority. Always.
My fraternity, ultimately, decided to forgive our brother, and expel him permanently. I lived with him off-campus my senior year, but never advocated his return. He was wrong, after all, in both his cave behavior and his argument that loyalty should be our chief concern. There’s another standard of goodness beyond that, we believed, and I still affirm, however difficult sometimes to discern, or hold ourselves accountable to. It’s even what makes forgiveness possible. Without a higher moral priority, only those most power win, along with whomever they deem most loyal.
What does that mean regarding recent news? Well, you’ll surely decide for yourself! But as you do, consider asking yourself the following: Would I hold myself- or my child’s attacker/torturer- to the same standard I’m holding others to now? Or am I simply being loyal to people who look like me, vote like me, or post on facebook like me? If the latter- and that’s a temptation Everyone faces!- remember there’s a beautiful place in God’s Kingdom for loyalty, but it’s not first place.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
After my junior year, however, we stopped using that cave after its owners informed us we were no longer welcome. The reason was simple. During our ceremony that year, one brother arrived intoxicated and caused problems. While everyone else got organized, he stumbled around sections we’d been told were off-limits. He broke a precious stalagmite. He defecated on the floor. The caretaker who’d vouched for us was justifiably furious. We were embarrassed. What happened next, however, has remained with me as an incredible lesson in ethics. My fraternity had a decision to make: What should we do about this brother- and friend- who’d cost us so dearly?
Some immediately demanded he be expelled from the fraternity. It was a serious moral failure, they said, not to mention misconduct covered by our by-laws. Others, however, believed we had a deeper commitment- loyalty to our brother- and that priority trumped all. “Make him pay a fine,” they said. “Or do community service. He’s apologized, after all. Isn’t that enough? Plus, he’s our brother. We can’t be disloyal.”
This popped to mind recently for several reasons. First, the US Senate produced a report detailing America’s use of torture in the aftermath of 9/11. Some were horrified and outraged by that behavior. Others said we shouldn’t disparage CIA patriots just trying to keep us safe. That would be disloyal, they claimed, and in the face of continued threats by brutal lunatics like the (so-called) Islamic State, we must remain staunchly, unmovably loyal. Whatever moral failure this torture represented- this thinking goes- is secondary to loyalty.
In roughly similar fashion, the (to my mind) more repulsive behavior of those in the (so-called) Islamic State- sex slavery, beheadings- is often done in Islam’s name, an ethically demanding religion that historically condemns such acts. Nevertheless, IS fighters do it, explicitly targeting folk they consider threatening, yet described as apostate or heathen, aka “not in my tribe.” Thus, they’re being loyal to “their own” by terrorizing others “not like them.” And so they justify practices that, in other contexts, even they would deem morally abhorrent.
The point is that in those, and other diverse situations, a tension develops between loyalty and other virtues, with loyalty competing among goodness, respect or compassion for top billing. Use that idea to reflect on the behavior of some police and protestors in recent stories about Ferguson, Staten Island or other killings of unarmed black men, and it helps explain many strident responses. Loyalty is powerful, and for some it’s the highest- or only- moral priority. Always.
My fraternity, ultimately, decided to forgive our brother, and expel him permanently. I lived with him off-campus my senior year, but never advocated his return. He was wrong, after all, in both his cave behavior and his argument that loyalty should be our chief concern. There’s another standard of goodness beyond that, we believed, and I still affirm, however difficult sometimes to discern, or hold ourselves accountable to. It’s even what makes forgiveness possible. Without a higher moral priority, only those most power win, along with whomever they deem most loyal.
What does that mean regarding recent news? Well, you’ll surely decide for yourself! But as you do, consider asking yourself the following: Would I hold myself- or my child’s attacker/torturer- to the same standard I’m holding others to now? Or am I simply being loyal to people who look like me, vote like me, or post on facebook like me? If the latter- and that’s a temptation Everyone faces!- remember there’s a beautiful place in God’s Kingdom for loyalty, but it’s not first place.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
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