Tabitha and I bought a bike last weekend, and it was awesome. But it wasn’t us. The bike was for our foster kid. So I spent the weekend remembering my first big kid bike (i.e. one without training wheels). As I recall, Dad and I were in the garage, when he (maybe Mom was there too…) presented me with a red and black BMX. I probably squealed or jumped or otherwise expressed the bursting triumph I felt welling up because now I had…A BIKE OF MY OWN!
Dad said, “Give it a ride.” In retrospect, bad decision, Pops. I mean, it makes sense he’d do that, encourage his kid to use this new bike. But, well, let me describe my old street. Our home was at the apex of a cul-de-sac whose roadway sloped downward toward a busier street. So imagine a boy still learning to ride standing atop his (rather steep) driveway, looking down the asphalt, cul-de-sac hill, feeling barely containable joy, impatiently anticipating all the speed and glory he’d soon obtain.
Also, I didn’t yet know how the brakes worked.
That became a problem as I zoomed down my driveway, past my buddy’s house, approaching the big street I knew I wasn’t allowed to bike in. I was going fast. I needed to stop fast. So…I leaned to the side, and fell. I was wearing shorts. Then, leaving the bike behind, I ran- hopping and holding my skinned knee- back to my father, still waiting, probably struggling with both pride in his gift and worry that I’d hurt myself. I returned for the bike after several Band-Aids, and hugs.
May it be our little guy doesn’t fall so painfully soon! But he’s not worried about that; he’s just loving his very own bike. And I can’t describe the exuberant pride I feel in having provided that gift to him. It’s a great feeling, amen?! This parental joy in “providing.” That it’s a boy’s bike, of course, means this feeling is also about my childhood. Maybe I’m just reliving old memories. But more interesting than that, I think, is me experiencing one kind of giving my parents modeled for me years ago.
What are your models of giving? There’s the “provider” model that parents (hopefully) show their kids, you providing what’s needed for another’s well-being. There’s the “condescending” model of you giving to someone you deem pitiable in an attempt to highlight your supposed-magnanimity (I don’t recommend this…). And there’s more. Lots! So which do you look to for making decisions about your finances, resources, time, dreams, commitments? I’m assuming you give. We all do, in various ways. So what supplies you guidance and inspiration?
May will include our annual four-week Stewardship Campaign. We’ll ask you to consider your giving to the church for the next fiscal year (June 2015 to May 2016). On May 24, or before, we’ll ask you to turn in pledges, if you pledge. But donations to church operations aren’t the whole point. Indeed, I’m hoping you’ll use these weeks to ponder how stewardship impacts your entire life.
After all, how we use resources is a daily concern that transcends church donations, even monthly bills. At the grocery store, on-line, during tax season, we put our money where our priorities are. Therefore, we can consider these transactions as more than reasons for stress or shame, but rather as opportunities to practice and grow our devotion. That’s why I look forward to this month annually. It’s a ready-made excuse to ponder the practical side of faith.
And to frame that discussion this year, we’ll look to scripture for models of giving. We’ll find there more than one that’s useful and achievable. Hopefully, that’ll help you breathe easier, remembering there’s no one way to do it right, while offering tools and insights for growth. So join us for this practical, maybe challenging, hopefully inspiring journey in May (and invite a friend!). And until then, think about the models of giving that have inspired or helped you. If you have a chance, even, thank them for it.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
PS- Thanks Mom and Dad for helping me learn to give joyfully!
Read more!
Friday, April 24, 2015
Friday, April 17, 2015
Little Church that Could…
It’s been awhile since my last building project update. We have news…that I’m going to call good. But I’ll be honest, it took days, nerves and hair pulling sessions to believe that!
When our congregation voted to move forward on this partnership deepening project with Yellow Brick Road childcare, we said we’d seek a loan in the $500,000-$550,000 range. We believed that feasible and achievable given the design and comments from our architectural firm. Thus, we asked for donations for the required down payment.
Guess what? We’re currently at $45,000, with a realistic path to get to achieve $50,000. Bravo! For a church our size to raise that amount in just a few weeks is amazing. Thanks be to God, and your big, generous hearts!
However, when we voted, we told you that we’d put the design to a new round of competitive bidding because we’d had to tweak it to lower costs. The architect believed that our modifications, simplifications, and willingness to simply build a shell of a new kitchen (to be completed by YBR/PCCC work over the winter/spring) was sufficient. It wasn’t. The best bid we got was $677,000.
I learned that just before Holy Week, which was then spent in frantic, sometimes heated conversation with our design firm, YBR, builders and our church’s building team. Given the project’s full costs (contractors bid, design firm, closing fees), our original plan wouldn’t work. YBR couldn’t afford the financing costs that bid required. Plus, it was well above what was said at the congregational meeting. So we conversed with the General Contractor about possible reductions. Here’s the only viable option we’ve discerned: PCCC and YBR acting as our own General Contractor.
If we did that, the architectural firm would remain engaged throughout, of course. The GC who originally bid would, for a much-reduced fee, arrange sub-contractors, design a construction schedule and be available for problem solving if(when!) issues arise. But day-to-day oversight, contacting sub-contractors, etc., would be ours. YBR’s owner has offered to do most of that, along with tapping her extensive professional and personal relationships to get reduced-cost materials/labor. I’d work with her and the city, while PCCC leaders with relevant experience would assist on oversight and communication.
Doing that gets us most of the way there. The remaining cost reductions would come from us and YBR putting “sweat equity” into the project. That means doing much finishing work ourselves- painting, flooring, demolition. The complex stuff of plumbing, framing, etc., would still be sub-contracted to professionals. Our insurance agent tells us that’s viable from a liability perspective. Indeed, he says he works with many churches who’ve done this successfully. We’re not a large church, and so couldn’t reasonably attempt that ourselves. But we’re not by ourselves. YBR, its network, even some parents would pitch in, if we also agree to do our best. Expect several fun and sweaty summer work days!
Which gets partly at why I now consider this good news. Certainly, it sounds daunting! But we’ve talked for years about building relationships with childcare families and friends. What better way to spark that than working together?! Some will paint. Others will arrange food. Some will buy carpets. Others will play with kids. But if we’re all all-in, we’ll build more than a building. We’ll build a bigger, broader, more loving and committed community.
And ultimately, that’s why any congregation should use any money, time, or sweat on building construction. Walls and finishings only facilitate the holy, wonderful work of spreading and deepening Love. I’m not saying this path lacks risk. Quite the opposite! I can’t promise we’ll do it right, on time, without hurt hands or feelings when challenges arise. That’s why church leadership seriously debated about whether to proceed. Indeed, they consider it imprudent to commit until we share with you how the plan shifted, what it’ll take to complete, and mostly, ask whether you’ll play a role.
If you can paint (or ask kids/grandkids to help!), will you? If you can’t, can we count on you to pitch in otherwise? If so, then we’ve got a full summer ahead, difficult and risky, certainly, perhaps beyond what outsiders would deem possible. But since when have we ever been otherwise than the little church that- with God’s help- could?!
Please let me and/or Donna Jarvi know your feedback A.S.A.P. And plan to attend a May 3 congregational meeting to discuss this and related issues further.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
When our congregation voted to move forward on this partnership deepening project with Yellow Brick Road childcare, we said we’d seek a loan in the $500,000-$550,000 range. We believed that feasible and achievable given the design and comments from our architectural firm. Thus, we asked for donations for the required down payment.
Guess what? We’re currently at $45,000, with a realistic path to get to achieve $50,000. Bravo! For a church our size to raise that amount in just a few weeks is amazing. Thanks be to God, and your big, generous hearts!
However, when we voted, we told you that we’d put the design to a new round of competitive bidding because we’d had to tweak it to lower costs. The architect believed that our modifications, simplifications, and willingness to simply build a shell of a new kitchen (to be completed by YBR/PCCC work over the winter/spring) was sufficient. It wasn’t. The best bid we got was $677,000.
I learned that just before Holy Week, which was then spent in frantic, sometimes heated conversation with our design firm, YBR, builders and our church’s building team. Given the project’s full costs (contractors bid, design firm, closing fees), our original plan wouldn’t work. YBR couldn’t afford the financing costs that bid required. Plus, it was well above what was said at the congregational meeting. So we conversed with the General Contractor about possible reductions. Here’s the only viable option we’ve discerned: PCCC and YBR acting as our own General Contractor.
If we did that, the architectural firm would remain engaged throughout, of course. The GC who originally bid would, for a much-reduced fee, arrange sub-contractors, design a construction schedule and be available for problem solving if(when!) issues arise. But day-to-day oversight, contacting sub-contractors, etc., would be ours. YBR’s owner has offered to do most of that, along with tapping her extensive professional and personal relationships to get reduced-cost materials/labor. I’d work with her and the city, while PCCC leaders with relevant experience would assist on oversight and communication.
Doing that gets us most of the way there. The remaining cost reductions would come from us and YBR putting “sweat equity” into the project. That means doing much finishing work ourselves- painting, flooring, demolition. The complex stuff of plumbing, framing, etc., would still be sub-contracted to professionals. Our insurance agent tells us that’s viable from a liability perspective. Indeed, he says he works with many churches who’ve done this successfully. We’re not a large church, and so couldn’t reasonably attempt that ourselves. But we’re not by ourselves. YBR, its network, even some parents would pitch in, if we also agree to do our best. Expect several fun and sweaty summer work days!
Which gets partly at why I now consider this good news. Certainly, it sounds daunting! But we’ve talked for years about building relationships with childcare families and friends. What better way to spark that than working together?! Some will paint. Others will arrange food. Some will buy carpets. Others will play with kids. But if we’re all all-in, we’ll build more than a building. We’ll build a bigger, broader, more loving and committed community.
And ultimately, that’s why any congregation should use any money, time, or sweat on building construction. Walls and finishings only facilitate the holy, wonderful work of spreading and deepening Love. I’m not saying this path lacks risk. Quite the opposite! I can’t promise we’ll do it right, on time, without hurt hands or feelings when challenges arise. That’s why church leadership seriously debated about whether to proceed. Indeed, they consider it imprudent to commit until we share with you how the plan shifted, what it’ll take to complete, and mostly, ask whether you’ll play a role.
If you can paint (or ask kids/grandkids to help!), will you? If you can’t, can we count on you to pitch in otherwise? If so, then we’ve got a full summer ahead, difficult and risky, certainly, perhaps beyond what outsiders would deem possible. But since when have we ever been otherwise than the little church that- with God’s help- could?!
Please let me and/or Donna Jarvi know your feedback A.S.A.P. And plan to attend a May 3 congregational meeting to discuss this and related issues further.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, April 9, 2015
Growing…
With Lent now ended, many Christians are indulging in stuff they’ve avoided for weeks. I typically give something up (this year- Twitter), and over time have learned there’re multiple ways to do it. I mean, on one level it’s all the same: chose something to not enjoy, then eagerly await its return! But hopefully, we do that purposefully; to learn, to grow spiritually. And how we go about that is different for different folk. Still, I’ve identified three common- and reliable- methods for Lenten learning. Surely, there’s more. But I’m sharing these today because a) Lent just finished, and b) They work outside Lent. I.e. if you want to keep growth going, give these ideas a go!
1) Daily Reflection: When someone gives up, say, TV for Lent, she might insert prayer (or devotional reading, or…) into that now-empty space. Consider this “Spiritual Boot Camp.” Like certain fashionable- and effective, I’m told!- exercise regimes, this practice relies on intense effort invested over a short period for the sake of bursting out of your comfort zone and into a new normal.
I think this method works best if you’re facing a big question like, “What’s my life’s next chapter?” So you hold that question in mind and before God during your daily spiritual sessions, cumulatively gathering insight and inspiration. It’s not guaranteed to uncover an answer, but it often pushes you forward. Warning, though, like fitness boot camps, first establish a “base” level of spiritual engagement before trying. Otherwise, you’ll get strained, or too easily give up!
2) Weekly Check-in: Another option is to not force the issue, but still set aside time- e.g. during worship- to go over the week mentally. For example, maybe you gave up chocolate during Lent, and it seems strange to pray nightly about what that means. Instead, attend church and zone out during my sermons, so you can reflect about what’s transpired since you last “checked in,” asking what you did differently during times you’d otherwise eat chocolate, why you made those choices, what “aha” moments emerged because you shifted your routine. Maybe you celebrate your self-discipline when you felt the temptation to have “just one,” and didn’t. Bravo!
This approach works as a good introduction to regular spiritual activity, if it’s been awhile. It’s also helpful for getting to the next level for those without anything huge looming. Don’t add an hour-a-day of prayer. Two works fine, or read a daily Psalm, then pause regularly to discern what’s changing or changed. I like this method because it takes advantage of stuff you’re already doing (like church), requires but simple additions, and is, therefore, sustainable. After all, not every life change or growth program needs to be drastic or painful.
3) Easter/Post-Lent Wrap-up: This final option may look like the procrastinator’s method, but isn’t…necessarily. Here, you give something up and rather than fill that empty space with daily work or check-in weekly, you commit to taking stock after Easter. Like a researcher who doesn’t interrupt an experiment, but simply analyzes final data, you postpone deep reflections until the end.
This can be effective if you’re considering a spiritual change, but don’t know exactly how well it’ll work. So rather than invest $100s in yoga classes, mats, clothes and books, only to learn after session two you hate it, you commit to attending yoga just during Lent (or any six week period). Then, don’t stress about what’s next until you have those weeks of data. At that point, weigh the pluses and minuses, other alternatives, changes in ideas or health. Also, before the experiment period begins, take stock of where you’re starting from, so you can compare and contrast once you’re done without hindsight bias. If you like it, go deeper. If you don’t, try something else. If you’re uncomfortable…well, be honest about whether it’s holy discomfort or not. The point is to immerse yourself for a time and trust God will guide your path once the experiment ends.
So there you go, my Lent-inspired growth techniques. Any others we should consider? I pray your Lent was opportunity for refreshment and challenge, and that our growth is but beginning!
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
1) Daily Reflection: When someone gives up, say, TV for Lent, she might insert prayer (or devotional reading, or…) into that now-empty space. Consider this “Spiritual Boot Camp.” Like certain fashionable- and effective, I’m told!- exercise regimes, this practice relies on intense effort invested over a short period for the sake of bursting out of your comfort zone and into a new normal.
I think this method works best if you’re facing a big question like, “What’s my life’s next chapter?” So you hold that question in mind and before God during your daily spiritual sessions, cumulatively gathering insight and inspiration. It’s not guaranteed to uncover an answer, but it often pushes you forward. Warning, though, like fitness boot camps, first establish a “base” level of spiritual engagement before trying. Otherwise, you’ll get strained, or too easily give up!
2) Weekly Check-in: Another option is to not force the issue, but still set aside time- e.g. during worship- to go over the week mentally. For example, maybe you gave up chocolate during Lent, and it seems strange to pray nightly about what that means. Instead, attend church and zone out during my sermons, so you can reflect about what’s transpired since you last “checked in,” asking what you did differently during times you’d otherwise eat chocolate, why you made those choices, what “aha” moments emerged because you shifted your routine. Maybe you celebrate your self-discipline when you felt the temptation to have “just one,” and didn’t. Bravo!
This approach works as a good introduction to regular spiritual activity, if it’s been awhile. It’s also helpful for getting to the next level for those without anything huge looming. Don’t add an hour-a-day of prayer. Two works fine, or read a daily Psalm, then pause regularly to discern what’s changing or changed. I like this method because it takes advantage of stuff you’re already doing (like church), requires but simple additions, and is, therefore, sustainable. After all, not every life change or growth program needs to be drastic or painful.
3) Easter/Post-Lent Wrap-up: This final option may look like the procrastinator’s method, but isn’t…necessarily. Here, you give something up and rather than fill that empty space with daily work or check-in weekly, you commit to taking stock after Easter. Like a researcher who doesn’t interrupt an experiment, but simply analyzes final data, you postpone deep reflections until the end.
This can be effective if you’re considering a spiritual change, but don’t know exactly how well it’ll work. So rather than invest $100s in yoga classes, mats, clothes and books, only to learn after session two you hate it, you commit to attending yoga just during Lent (or any six week period). Then, don’t stress about what’s next until you have those weeks of data. At that point, weigh the pluses and minuses, other alternatives, changes in ideas or health. Also, before the experiment period begins, take stock of where you’re starting from, so you can compare and contrast once you’re done without hindsight bias. If you like it, go deeper. If you don’t, try something else. If you’re uncomfortable…well, be honest about whether it’s holy discomfort or not. The point is to immerse yourself for a time and trust God will guide your path once the experiment ends.
So there you go, my Lent-inspired growth techniques. Any others we should consider? I pray your Lent was opportunity for refreshment and challenge, and that our growth is but beginning!
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Thursday, April 2, 2015
Full table…
I joined the Disciples of Christ denomination during seminary. I had begun pastoral training as a free-agent Protestant – and yes, that’s odd! – but I found a spiritual home when I discovered Disciples.
Ironically, the main reason for that choice made news recently. So did Disciples. You see, I joined, basically, because of…Religious Freedom.
First, a Disciples History lesson. We’re an American-grown religious movement. We started in the early 1800s, believing deeply in Unity. Our reasoning was simple. Back then, there seemed an ever-increasing number of splintering churches, each claiming they had God’s Ultimate Truth, while others didn’t. So they’d leave. This constant debate about who were The Real Christians, well, annoyed our founders.
After all, they were Revolutionary Era Americans. They believed in freedom too! In this case, freedom of individual autonomy to interpret faith and the Bible personally. And that should foster unity, they thought, not division, because diversity was God’s gift for making Christ’s church stronger. Therefore, you could believe one thing, while I believed another, and we could still meet at Christ’s Table because Jesus welcomed everyone. A full table was best!
Besides, God’s love is what unites us, they said, not our beliefs. I LOVE that idea. Their pithy slogan was, “No Creed but Christ; No Law but Love.” Amen! God created us free to argue, even disagree, while respecting and accepting each other. I joined because I wanted such breadth and wisdom from my church home.
I also, like many young adult Christians, wanted my church home not to condemn gay people. Alas, that’s what my childhood churches- however decent otherwise- stridently taught. But as I now understand Jesus, he opened his fellowship to everyone. That’s what I found in Disciples. We value the freedom of all to live as they’re made before the God who made them. Therefore, we try welcoming everyone too. That includes, of course, those who don’t think, like me, that LGBTQ Christians should be included in church life and leadership. When I claim we are united by God’s love, I mean it.
But living that can be tricky. For instance, our denomination’s headquarters are in Indiana, whose governor recently signed a law purportedly protecting Religious Freedom. As I understand it (and I’m no lawyer…), it allows employers, landlords, merchants, etc., to make decisions about employment, rentals, service, etc., on the basis of personal belief. Sounds great on the surface! But I worry about the details. Could one effect be, say, a landlord believes that God wants gay people in Hell, not in her building, so she rejects LGBTQ applications?! African-Americans understand too well the unholy, devastating consequences such decisions create. It’s legalized discrimination.
And that’s religious freedom? We’re created to live and believe freely, I dearly believe. But I believe also in responsibility, i.e. my exercise of freedom can’t harm others. Thus, I couldn’t condone excluding LGBTQ neighbors from receiving the same treatment that I or my black foster kid’s entitled to. People died to make us one.
Which brings me to a new reason I love Disciples! Our denominational leaders sent Indiana’s governor an open letter last week asking that he veto the law. News organizations covered their claim that this wasn’t about religious freedom, but ran “contrary to the values of our faith…(W)e follow one who sat at table with people from all walks of life, and loved them all. Our church is diverse in point of view, but we share a value for an open Lord’s Table.” Then, they threatened to move our biennial General Assembly, scheduled for Indianapolis in 2017. That’s already deep in planning. But values held earnestly are worth paying for.
Perhaps you disagree with that decision. I’d strongly defend your free right to believe different than me! But I’m for it since I don’t think we’re fully free to love and serve as God desires if all neighbors aren’t afforded basic dignity. Perhaps this law isn’t as discriminatory as I worry. I hope so. Nevertheless, it provided our church with a clarifying moment: When we claim all are freely welcome to the united Table of the Resurrected One, what does that mean?
All, to me, means all.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Subtle Changes,
Poinsettias adorn our sanctuary every year as Christmas nears. Then on Christmas Eve, after our candlelight service, most Plymouth Creekers take home the plants they ordered. One exception this year was for perhaps the largest and reddest flower. Its owner/order-er graciously allowed the church to enjoy its beauty through the year’s end, into January, until Ash Wednesday, and, well, it’s there still!
This longevity surprised me. After all, I’m the guy who, my first Christmas here, left a poinsettia in my car for two hours during cold weather, thinking all would be well. It wasn’t. I returned to a car filled with wilted, dead leaves. Thus, my astonishment that our large poinsettia has endured through nearly three months! I figured we’d have it until Epiphany, Valentine’s Day if lucky. So every Sunday before service I’d throw away the couple wilted leaves that had fallen that week. I’d turn the pedestal so the most vivacious side faced the congregation, and assumed that next week would always be its last. But to my wonder, the following Sundays, while the plant wasn’t so grand as at first, it wasn’t yet a complete eye-sore. It kept fending off the compost pile, until after Palm Sunday, when we’ll finally remove it to make room for Easter flowers.
I recently decided that’s a great metaphor for what it’s like to follow the Christian Calendar. You know, that decision church leaders made way back whenever to structure Christian time not just on earthly, but spiritual cycles too. Essentially, we relive the same story annually. Christ’s conception opens the year, then the kid’s born, then adult Jesus does some neat stuff, then he upsets some brutal jerks, so he’s killed, but then- God is really awesome- He’s Alive! He’s Alive!
At least, that’s the rhythm of half our year, celebrating the basic narrative arc of Jesus’s birth, life, death, resurrection. Other important stuff comes up too, obviously. Yet Christians really like this story.
But it can get somewhat tedious, right? Reciting these moments over and over. Seriously, there’s only so much meaning you can forcibly extract from that weird Palm Sunday tale. Don’t get me wrong. I love Christmas every year, and not (only) because I get presents. Honoring Jesus’ birthday is meaningful and profound. We should observe it annually. Same goes for Easter.
It’s the middle stuff that drags. Like that poinsettia, Christmas kicks off each year with a blazing red bang and then, over subsequent weeks, the sheen of church slowly wilts and fades until… Well. For some, until it’s thrown onto the compost pile. They won’t do church unless it’s at its Biggest and Best! They have little patience for the mundane stuff of meetings, cleaning coffee cups, breaking down tables, attending Sunday School. That’s not always powerful like candlelight Christmas Eve (though our Sunday School often is…), but it’s what allows Christian community to exist, grow and thrive. Of course, others dwell only in those details, define their spiritual life purely through meetings, routines and tasks that (only they!) do. This keeps God’s wonder and awe from barging into their faith like a cannon of grace and light, alas.
The fading poinsettia shows me another way through our Calendar. We basked in its beauty at Christmas, then in its afterglow ever since. And it’s slowly faded, sure, the effect reduced. If we were Christian perfectionists, we’d have dismissed it weeks ago. If we were Christian drudgery artists, we may never have noticed it. But hopefully we’ve enjoyed the lingering effect. Yet little lasts forever. Renewal is ever needed. Thankfully, that’s built into the Christian calendar too! Annually, we celebrate new life at Easter, its persistent possibility. So at Lent’s end, a lovely new flower will replace the decaying body of one we received at Christmas. Maybe our own spirits will, then, feel a fresh push of beautiful grace that could inspire us to work harder again for God’s Kingdom come.
I’m certainly looking forward to that boost! I do annually. Thank God for the wonder of special moments in the rhythm of Christian time, the daily work of good workers, and the promise of new life. Available always.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
This longevity surprised me. After all, I’m the guy who, my first Christmas here, left a poinsettia in my car for two hours during cold weather, thinking all would be well. It wasn’t. I returned to a car filled with wilted, dead leaves. Thus, my astonishment that our large poinsettia has endured through nearly three months! I figured we’d have it until Epiphany, Valentine’s Day if lucky. So every Sunday before service I’d throw away the couple wilted leaves that had fallen that week. I’d turn the pedestal so the most vivacious side faced the congregation, and assumed that next week would always be its last. But to my wonder, the following Sundays, while the plant wasn’t so grand as at first, it wasn’t yet a complete eye-sore. It kept fending off the compost pile, until after Palm Sunday, when we’ll finally remove it to make room for Easter flowers.
I recently decided that’s a great metaphor for what it’s like to follow the Christian Calendar. You know, that decision church leaders made way back whenever to structure Christian time not just on earthly, but spiritual cycles too. Essentially, we relive the same story annually. Christ’s conception opens the year, then the kid’s born, then adult Jesus does some neat stuff, then he upsets some brutal jerks, so he’s killed, but then- God is really awesome- He’s Alive! He’s Alive!
At least, that’s the rhythm of half our year, celebrating the basic narrative arc of Jesus’s birth, life, death, resurrection. Other important stuff comes up too, obviously. Yet Christians really like this story.
But it can get somewhat tedious, right? Reciting these moments over and over. Seriously, there’s only so much meaning you can forcibly extract from that weird Palm Sunday tale. Don’t get me wrong. I love Christmas every year, and not (only) because I get presents. Honoring Jesus’ birthday is meaningful and profound. We should observe it annually. Same goes for Easter.
It’s the middle stuff that drags. Like that poinsettia, Christmas kicks off each year with a blazing red bang and then, over subsequent weeks, the sheen of church slowly wilts and fades until… Well. For some, until it’s thrown onto the compost pile. They won’t do church unless it’s at its Biggest and Best! They have little patience for the mundane stuff of meetings, cleaning coffee cups, breaking down tables, attending Sunday School. That’s not always powerful like candlelight Christmas Eve (though our Sunday School often is…), but it’s what allows Christian community to exist, grow and thrive. Of course, others dwell only in those details, define their spiritual life purely through meetings, routines and tasks that (only they!) do. This keeps God’s wonder and awe from barging into their faith like a cannon of grace and light, alas.
The fading poinsettia shows me another way through our Calendar. We basked in its beauty at Christmas, then in its afterglow ever since. And it’s slowly faded, sure, the effect reduced. If we were Christian perfectionists, we’d have dismissed it weeks ago. If we were Christian drudgery artists, we may never have noticed it. But hopefully we’ve enjoyed the lingering effect. Yet little lasts forever. Renewal is ever needed. Thankfully, that’s built into the Christian calendar too! Annually, we celebrate new life at Easter, its persistent possibility. So at Lent’s end, a lovely new flower will replace the decaying body of one we received at Christmas. Maybe our own spirits will, then, feel a fresh push of beautiful grace that could inspire us to work harder again for God’s Kingdom come.
I’m certainly looking forward to that boost! I do annually. Thank God for the wonder of special moments in the rhythm of Christian time, the daily work of good workers, and the promise of new life. Available always.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Fair distinctions…
I recall little about eleventh grade English beyond the following conversation. My class was discussing a short story when the topic turned to humanity’s relationship to our animal cousins. For whatever reason, I grew passionate, and offered a theory about what makes us unique, “truly human.” Basically, I claimed it was our ability to create, to enjoy beauty. Perhaps predictably, the English teacher agreed. The other students, by contrast, chafed at this seemingly obvious attempt of kissing up!
Anyway, that vignette comes to mind whenever I encounter the Christian doctrine of (pretentious Latin warming) the imago dei. That translates into the Image of God, and is based on Genesis 1:27, which claims God created humankind in “God’s Image.” That’s what makes us unique.
The oft-asked response is “What does that mean?!” My high school English teacher enjoyed my answer privileging creativity, beauty art. And there’s something to that interpretation. All Genesis readers know so far about God before verse 27 is that God’s a Creator. So if we follow the Bible closely, being made in God’s Image could mean being endowed with the gift of creativity.
I recently encountered another claim, though, that- while related- takes it in a different direction. But it wasn’t made in a theology book. Instead, this was a book about science. Specifically, it’s called The Sixth Extinction, authored by science journalist Elizabeth Kolbert, who details the story of how many species are currently going (or have recently gone) extinct, compared with extinction trends and events over Life’s 3.5 billion years on earth. The short story: It’s not pretty; in fact, it’s terrifying. Pray for the earth, and forgiveness.
Still, when discussing humanity’s evolution and the not-long-after extinction of Neanderthals, she extensively quoted a Neanderthal expert. He pointed out that, genetically, modern humans are really similar to these now-extinct close cousins. What makes us different species is but several DNA mutations. What those are, he’s still trying to identify. But one thing we know, through fossil remains, are migration patterns of humans and Neanderthals. Turns out that Neanderthals migrated like every other large mammal, while humans did something…unique.
The key, he says, was ocean. Neanderthals never crossed the ocean, while humans found a way. Neanderthals crossed the English Channel, but at a time when sea levels were low enough to walk. Prehistoric humans, though (primitive to us technologically, yet identical genetically), they- or we- ventured across the ocean. We sailed toward a watery horizon we couldn’t see over, into a blue beyond we could only imagine, hoping something…else…lay in wait.
He described that as a kind of “madness,” and he’s probably right! Consider what it took for the first humans to say, “Enough of this close-to-shore sailing. Let’s see what else there is to explore!” And when they didn’t return- because surely many tried and died- what prompted those remaining to try again? Bad memory? Perhaps! Severe starvation? Could be, though I doubt it. Hunter-gatherers weren’t living luxuriously by our standards, but they were adept at survival across many climates. Their skeletons, in fact, were healthier and larger on average than those of typical humans after we settled into farming. That comparison of average hunter-gatherer vs “settled” human skeletal size and health only reversed in the past century!
Instead, I like this biologist’s instinct that something genetic drove us. An inborn madness, a need for exploration (as he further defines it), a created capacity for imagination other species lacked. Indeed, those three descriptions seem like one-in-the-same, and not in real contradiction with my imago dei definition above. Couldn’t we describe creativity, after all, as a mad leap of imagination into horizons we’ve yet to explore beyond?! The results could be maddeningly terrifying, of course. God could create a creature so imaginative, so powerful, it alone can destroy all Life. But creative madness could work another way too. God could create a creature perpetually aching to explore, to imagine Life’s unknown potential. Requiring it, therefore, to protect Life, to work with other species in harmony, even to save Life when the need arises and it has the chance. Sound similar to what God did for us in Jesus?
God’s image, indeed.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Anyway, that vignette comes to mind whenever I encounter the Christian doctrine of (pretentious Latin warming) the imago dei. That translates into the Image of God, and is based on Genesis 1:27, which claims God created humankind in “God’s Image.” That’s what makes us unique.
The oft-asked response is “What does that mean?!” My high school English teacher enjoyed my answer privileging creativity, beauty art. And there’s something to that interpretation. All Genesis readers know so far about God before verse 27 is that God’s a Creator. So if we follow the Bible closely, being made in God’s Image could mean being endowed with the gift of creativity.
I recently encountered another claim, though, that- while related- takes it in a different direction. But it wasn’t made in a theology book. Instead, this was a book about science. Specifically, it’s called The Sixth Extinction, authored by science journalist Elizabeth Kolbert, who details the story of how many species are currently going (or have recently gone) extinct, compared with extinction trends and events over Life’s 3.5 billion years on earth. The short story: It’s not pretty; in fact, it’s terrifying. Pray for the earth, and forgiveness.
Still, when discussing humanity’s evolution and the not-long-after extinction of Neanderthals, she extensively quoted a Neanderthal expert. He pointed out that, genetically, modern humans are really similar to these now-extinct close cousins. What makes us different species is but several DNA mutations. What those are, he’s still trying to identify. But one thing we know, through fossil remains, are migration patterns of humans and Neanderthals. Turns out that Neanderthals migrated like every other large mammal, while humans did something…unique.
The key, he says, was ocean. Neanderthals never crossed the ocean, while humans found a way. Neanderthals crossed the English Channel, but at a time when sea levels were low enough to walk. Prehistoric humans, though (primitive to us technologically, yet identical genetically), they- or we- ventured across the ocean. We sailed toward a watery horizon we couldn’t see over, into a blue beyond we could only imagine, hoping something…else…lay in wait.
He described that as a kind of “madness,” and he’s probably right! Consider what it took for the first humans to say, “Enough of this close-to-shore sailing. Let’s see what else there is to explore!” And when they didn’t return- because surely many tried and died- what prompted those remaining to try again? Bad memory? Perhaps! Severe starvation? Could be, though I doubt it. Hunter-gatherers weren’t living luxuriously by our standards, but they were adept at survival across many climates. Their skeletons, in fact, were healthier and larger on average than those of typical humans after we settled into farming. That comparison of average hunter-gatherer vs “settled” human skeletal size and health only reversed in the past century!
Instead, I like this biologist’s instinct that something genetic drove us. An inborn madness, a need for exploration (as he further defines it), a created capacity for imagination other species lacked. Indeed, those three descriptions seem like one-in-the-same, and not in real contradiction with my imago dei definition above. Couldn’t we describe creativity, after all, as a mad leap of imagination into horizons we’ve yet to explore beyond?! The results could be maddeningly terrifying, of course. God could create a creature so imaginative, so powerful, it alone can destroy all Life. But creative madness could work another way too. God could create a creature perpetually aching to explore, to imagine Life’s unknown potential. Requiring it, therefore, to protect Life, to work with other species in harmony, even to save Life when the need arises and it has the chance. Sound similar to what God did for us in Jesus?
God’s image, indeed.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Whose definition…
The Queen of Jordan recently suggested dropping the “I” from ISIS. Remember that ISIS are those murdering thugs, now self-styled “The Islamic State”, who’ve taken over some Iraqi and Syrian territory, then released beheading videos, hoping to appear more menacing than they are. The Queen’s point is that “I” stands for Islamic, but they shouldn’t be granted the title. They’re simply bloody extremists, to her, undeserving of the honor of her faith.
Her comments dovetail a recent, related debate in American media and politics. People wondered- Is calling these terrorists “Islamic” accurate and helpful, or distracting and wrong? Some argued, “They call themselves Islamic, claim religious motivation. Let’s be precise.” Others said, “Negative stereotypes that ‘all-Muslims-are-terrorists’ persist. Calling ISIS Islamic feeds that fear, giving terrorists what they want.” All fair points to consider.
But the Jordanian Queen is a Muslim leader, no outside prognosticator. She’s influential across many Muslim communities, which made me pay closer attention. Although, honestly, I’ve heard similar comments from other Muslims about ISIS, and Muslim terrorists generally. Friends from the mosque near our church have adamantly told me, “There’s no room in Islam for terrorism! A terrorist cannot be a Muslim. Whatever s/he claims, s/he’s kafir.” FYI, that Arabic word translates into “unbeliever” or “apostate.” And one practice in some parts of Islamic tradition is takfir, i.e. one Muslim declaring another Muslim kafir (not truly Muslim). That’s basically what Jordan’s Queen did- practiced takfir by defining ISIS as un-Islamic.
If that sounds like the Christian practice of excommunication, you’re paying attention! And from my limited understanding (obviously, I’m no Islamic scholar), takfir is as varied and technical for Muslims as excommunication is for Christians. The proper takfir method varies across diverse Muslim communions. Likewise, Christian folk describe how and why they excommunicate (in Disciples parlance- disfellowship) differently than neighbor churches, if they have an answer at all. Besides, for some Christians that practice has become less formal than before. And more widespread. Nowadays, many believers don’t wait for the rigorous discipline of a church council or the pronouncement of learned theologians, to inform them who counts as “Christian” or not. They simply observe folk who believe different, or behave (what they’d call) badly and say, “You’re not Christian.”
So I felt a disconnect after listening to Jordan’s Queen. Part of me thought, “She’s Muslim. She knows much better than me about Islam.” Another part thought, “But if she were Christian, I’d disagree.” After all, it’s fundamental to my Disciples identity that I have no ability to define others’ religion for them. “No Creed but Christ.” So if you claim you’re Christian, I won’t deny it. Even if I consider your theology deplorable. That’s not to say I’d accept, for instance, an unrepentant abortion clinic bomber joining our church. I’d resign if our Board allowed that. Nevertheless, I won’t say s/he is un-Christian. S/he’s a terrible Christian, wildly mistaken about Jesus, will likely face a pissed-off God after death, but I don’t believe anyone has the power or right to personally define Christianity.
Which frames my thinking on this ISIS/Islamic State debate. Firstly, they’re bad people. I hope they’re stopped. But that’s a task, primarily, for their co-religionists. Non-Muslim Westerners don’t have the capacity to end this struggle, whatever our military prowess (i.e. I wouldn’t support another invasion). Because much of that struggle is about identity- political, economic and religious. And though she’s disgusted by it, because her theology is FAR superior, to my mind Jordan’s Queen is a co-religionist with ISIS. Just as we’re related to Christian terrorists, and therefore have a special responsibility to condemn their behavior, while disseminating a better way.
Perhaps it’s unfair for me to map my faith convictions on how Muslims define Islam. I simply think that the more we practice identifying who’re right or wrong, who’s in or out, the more we feed that us v. them, believer v. heathen mentality that animates ISIS’s brutality. We don’t have the full truth- anyone- but the truth we do confess is better than gangsters who slaughter whole communities, saying, “You’re takfir, unbelievers, so you die.”
Goodness will only win if a better way is shown.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Her comments dovetail a recent, related debate in American media and politics. People wondered- Is calling these terrorists “Islamic” accurate and helpful, or distracting and wrong? Some argued, “They call themselves Islamic, claim religious motivation. Let’s be precise.” Others said, “Negative stereotypes that ‘all-Muslims-are-terrorists’ persist. Calling ISIS Islamic feeds that fear, giving terrorists what they want.” All fair points to consider.
But the Jordanian Queen is a Muslim leader, no outside prognosticator. She’s influential across many Muslim communities, which made me pay closer attention. Although, honestly, I’ve heard similar comments from other Muslims about ISIS, and Muslim terrorists generally. Friends from the mosque near our church have adamantly told me, “There’s no room in Islam for terrorism! A terrorist cannot be a Muslim. Whatever s/he claims, s/he’s kafir.” FYI, that Arabic word translates into “unbeliever” or “apostate.” And one practice in some parts of Islamic tradition is takfir, i.e. one Muslim declaring another Muslim kafir (not truly Muslim). That’s basically what Jordan’s Queen did- practiced takfir by defining ISIS as un-Islamic.
If that sounds like the Christian practice of excommunication, you’re paying attention! And from my limited understanding (obviously, I’m no Islamic scholar), takfir is as varied and technical for Muslims as excommunication is for Christians. The proper takfir method varies across diverse Muslim communions. Likewise, Christian folk describe how and why they excommunicate (in Disciples parlance- disfellowship) differently than neighbor churches, if they have an answer at all. Besides, for some Christians that practice has become less formal than before. And more widespread. Nowadays, many believers don’t wait for the rigorous discipline of a church council or the pronouncement of learned theologians, to inform them who counts as “Christian” or not. They simply observe folk who believe different, or behave (what they’d call) badly and say, “You’re not Christian.”
So I felt a disconnect after listening to Jordan’s Queen. Part of me thought, “She’s Muslim. She knows much better than me about Islam.” Another part thought, “But if she were Christian, I’d disagree.” After all, it’s fundamental to my Disciples identity that I have no ability to define others’ religion for them. “No Creed but Christ.” So if you claim you’re Christian, I won’t deny it. Even if I consider your theology deplorable. That’s not to say I’d accept, for instance, an unrepentant abortion clinic bomber joining our church. I’d resign if our Board allowed that. Nevertheless, I won’t say s/he is un-Christian. S/he’s a terrible Christian, wildly mistaken about Jesus, will likely face a pissed-off God after death, but I don’t believe anyone has the power or right to personally define Christianity.
Which frames my thinking on this ISIS/Islamic State debate. Firstly, they’re bad people. I hope they’re stopped. But that’s a task, primarily, for their co-religionists. Non-Muslim Westerners don’t have the capacity to end this struggle, whatever our military prowess (i.e. I wouldn’t support another invasion). Because much of that struggle is about identity- political, economic and religious. And though she’s disgusted by it, because her theology is FAR superior, to my mind Jordan’s Queen is a co-religionist with ISIS. Just as we’re related to Christian terrorists, and therefore have a special responsibility to condemn their behavior, while disseminating a better way.
Perhaps it’s unfair for me to map my faith convictions on how Muslims define Islam. I simply think that the more we practice identifying who’re right or wrong, who’s in or out, the more we feed that us v. them, believer v. heathen mentality that animates ISIS’s brutality. We don’t have the full truth- anyone- but the truth we do confess is better than gangsters who slaughter whole communities, saying, “You’re takfir, unbelievers, so you die.”
Goodness will only win if a better way is shown.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
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