I discovered last week that a high school friend died abruptly. He was 31, I think. Honestly, I hadn’t spoken with Jim in over a decade; just before or after college graduation. Yet I followed his life’s progress on Facebook. He’d moved to upstate New York, became a chef, and bragged about the clever risotto dishes he concocted. More than once, I’ve daydreamed about showing up in his café without prior announcement.
But that won’t happen now, and I’ve cried more about his passing than I would’ve anticipated. The thing is, I had some good reasons for growing apart from Jim. For starters, he was younger, so I was in college before he’d graduated. That created distance, though we did see each other on school breaks when I came home. He attempted college initially. But it didn’t seem to stick. Anger, rebellion and drugs were more his style. I shared some of that during high school, but as college progressed, my priorities changed, my outlook improved.
Nevertheless, I still cherished memories of his gifted guitar playing and soulful voice, of us singing together. We grew close in our school’s select choir. Neither of us felt we “fit” the school’s dominate expectations. But outcast instincts weren’t all we shared. We loved music and its transportational possibilities. He was the much better musician! With several other friends, we’d frequent the same coffee shop or billiard hall, and sing or listen to music, or otherwise be together. For some, that’s nothing special. They’ve always had many close friends, felt part of “a group.” I never did. Still don’t. Except those few years with Jim (and Ryan and Kyle and Brian).
I’ll admit that behind my tears last week were regrets not only that Jim died, but that I’d lost that sense of belonging so many years ago. I didn’t plan for us losing touch. I didn’t welcome it. Nor did I work hard to stop it. And I think it was, in general, an okay development. Phone calls grew more infrequent as Jim and others got jobs while I changed majors. Ryan started traveling. People found girlfriends or new friends and I worked toward seminary. A wedding occurred that I missed and then it felt like I couldn’t go back. Like I couldn’t restart a past that was past. And that’s right. None of us can, not really. Still, I’m sad I couldn’t find some new way to include these now-men in my life who, for a time, mattered as much to me as any.
Thus, I cried for Jim and- forgive me!- for me too. And that I’ll never tell him I’m so glad his risotto blend is creative and healthy, and that his life is too. He seemed to overcome the drugs, and his Facebook photos at least showed a smile that looked earned and true. People sometimes say, “Live life without regrets.” I think that’s wrong. Some regrets, of course, are fools’ prisons, us being shackled by events we can’t change, and need to get over. But other regrets connect us to what matters, what would be a shame to forget. For instance, I’ve never been very good at being a friend, at remaining close to people, and much of my regret revolves around that. Moments like these, however, remind me that I needn’t accept that fact as fully defining. i.e., I’ve done it before.
Besides, long ago I accepted that my ultimate belonging is in God’s forever family. These regrets, therefore, serve as occasional prodding to build on that firm foundation and share my vulnerabilities, my mundane joys more readily. That’s quite hard for me, but one who’s greater than me holds me forever. And that’s sufficient. Besides, Jim helped teach me my foibles were beautiful too.
Ryan- who I think remained close to Jim- sent me his phone number last Sunday. I hope by the time y’all read this I’ve found the nerve to call him. And in honor of a dear, sometimes disturbed, always beloved of God young man- too soon gone- I’m making risotto for my family soon. My blend isn’t super creative, nor perfect. But I’m proud to share it.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Thursday, May 14, 2015
Cultural competency…
Last Monday, I had the privilege of helping leaders throughout our community address an important issue: Cross-cultural competency and skill building.
Here’s the full story. For the past several years, I’ve joined several local leaders in exploring ways to help close or eliminate the achievement gap in our schools. Surely, you’ve heard that while MN schools typically rank among the nation’s finest, we also have the highest average gap in student achievement between white students and students of color. That’s true for our local district, the Wayzata Public Schools. Their students, generally, score amongst the best in state! Students of color, though, especially Latinos and African-Americans, consistently perform below their peers. That gap also exists for students from low-income families, regardless of ethnic background. Kids in these groups tend to struggle more than others, and more than they should.
So how do you solve that distressing phenomenon? I mean, success shouldn’t derive from the lottery of skin color or parental income, right? But that’s what we’re seeing, and that portends tough long-term consequences for the whole community.
Well, one response that’s worked elsewhere is called “Collective Impact.” The plan is to get leaders from all the sectors in a local community who impact or are affected by this issue (e.g. school districts, businesses, social services, YMCAs, churches, governments…) to craft a common agenda for solutions. That agenda should include measurable goals that research says leads to student success (e.g. all kids enter Kindergarten ready to learn, all achieve math proficiency by eighth grade), which is constantly monitored. Then, we create common initiatives that move kids toward those goals, avoiding isolation, duplicating of efforts and avoidance of sharing best practices.
That’s a thick, tricky, big idea. But if it works, we’re imaging no less than our entire community working collectively for all kids to achieve their greatest expectations. Thus, the initiative is called…Great Expectations! I’m the steering team’s “faith community” voice. And because the achievement gap is our focus, we figured that helping community leaders build more diversity/cross-cultural skills would be worth the effort.
I even helped pay for it. Remember that fellowship I got from Collegeville two years back? It included $1,000 to use toward a project that impacted our community, as long as the project aligned with the work of my church. Well, consider Great Expectations theologically. We’re gathering different people around one table, not to conform, but to unify in common hope for a better future. How perfectly Disciples is that?! To get this workshop going, then, I put my fellowship money into the pot (technically, Plymouth Creek paid $1,000 and Collegeville will reimburse us, which the Board approved, though I just told attendees it was Plymouth Creek sponsoring the training!). And after seeing the wonderful engagement of our community, I’m glad I did it.
After all, I’ve become much more sensitive to diversity issues since November, when an African-American boy from difficult circumstances came to live in my home. In school, at church and elsewhere, he’s been both supported and rejected because of who he is. Some are super quick to love him up, cheer for him, help him achieve. Thank you! Others lack the cultural bridge building skill to understand where he’s coming from, and so have yelled at him inappropriately, judged him as less capable or bad, even told me he won’t amount to much.
We Disciples know those latter responses are neither right nor holy treatments of a neighbor, whether they look or sound like you, or not. We believe in the freedom of all God’s children to become the unique, blessed soul God created her/him to be. Which means we must first learn about others’ differences or commonalities before presuming to judge, to shame, to dismiss. Essentially, that’s what we discussed on Monday- nurturing the skills to hear and appreciate diverse neighbors’ backgrounds.
So, again, given our faith tradition, it was worth the time and money! And the prayers I hope you’ll join me in lifting, that all kids and families struggling today will get needed support to reach their great expectations. And that we’ll all recommit to being better neighbors, those who listen, care and respond.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Here’s the full story. For the past several years, I’ve joined several local leaders in exploring ways to help close or eliminate the achievement gap in our schools. Surely, you’ve heard that while MN schools typically rank among the nation’s finest, we also have the highest average gap in student achievement between white students and students of color. That’s true for our local district, the Wayzata Public Schools. Their students, generally, score amongst the best in state! Students of color, though, especially Latinos and African-Americans, consistently perform below their peers. That gap also exists for students from low-income families, regardless of ethnic background. Kids in these groups tend to struggle more than others, and more than they should.
So how do you solve that distressing phenomenon? I mean, success shouldn’t derive from the lottery of skin color or parental income, right? But that’s what we’re seeing, and that portends tough long-term consequences for the whole community.
Well, one response that’s worked elsewhere is called “Collective Impact.” The plan is to get leaders from all the sectors in a local community who impact or are affected by this issue (e.g. school districts, businesses, social services, YMCAs, churches, governments…) to craft a common agenda for solutions. That agenda should include measurable goals that research says leads to student success (e.g. all kids enter Kindergarten ready to learn, all achieve math proficiency by eighth grade), which is constantly monitored. Then, we create common initiatives that move kids toward those goals, avoiding isolation, duplicating of efforts and avoidance of sharing best practices.
That’s a thick, tricky, big idea. But if it works, we’re imaging no less than our entire community working collectively for all kids to achieve their greatest expectations. Thus, the initiative is called…Great Expectations! I’m the steering team’s “faith community” voice. And because the achievement gap is our focus, we figured that helping community leaders build more diversity/cross-cultural skills would be worth the effort.
I even helped pay for it. Remember that fellowship I got from Collegeville two years back? It included $1,000 to use toward a project that impacted our community, as long as the project aligned with the work of my church. Well, consider Great Expectations theologically. We’re gathering different people around one table, not to conform, but to unify in common hope for a better future. How perfectly Disciples is that?! To get this workshop going, then, I put my fellowship money into the pot (technically, Plymouth Creek paid $1,000 and Collegeville will reimburse us, which the Board approved, though I just told attendees it was Plymouth Creek sponsoring the training!). And after seeing the wonderful engagement of our community, I’m glad I did it.
After all, I’ve become much more sensitive to diversity issues since November, when an African-American boy from difficult circumstances came to live in my home. In school, at church and elsewhere, he’s been both supported and rejected because of who he is. Some are super quick to love him up, cheer for him, help him achieve. Thank you! Others lack the cultural bridge building skill to understand where he’s coming from, and so have yelled at him inappropriately, judged him as less capable or bad, even told me he won’t amount to much.
We Disciples know those latter responses are neither right nor holy treatments of a neighbor, whether they look or sound like you, or not. We believe in the freedom of all God’s children to become the unique, blessed soul God created her/him to be. Which means we must first learn about others’ differences or commonalities before presuming to judge, to shame, to dismiss. Essentially, that’s what we discussed on Monday- nurturing the skills to hear and appreciate diverse neighbors’ backgrounds.
So, again, given our faith tradition, it was worth the time and money! And the prayers I hope you’ll join me in lifting, that all kids and families struggling today will get needed support to reach their great expectations. And that we’ll all recommit to being better neighbors, those who listen, care and respond.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, May 8, 2015
Location,
I spent several days this week with clergy colleagues at the Collegeville Institute on the St. John’s campus. This was part of a two-year fellowship I received in 2013, designed to teach a select group of early career ministers greater skills for doing “public theology.”
You may not be familiar with that term, public theology. If it sounds like professional clergy jargon, well, you’re not wrong. Nevertheless, it’s a valuable idea. The point is that churches don’t exist for themselves alone. We operate in a location, a public context whose needs and failures, triumphs and hopes we bear some responsibility for. Sometimes, broader social issues obviously impact many of our people; the high costs of health care in an aging nation, the possibilities of school success for our children and grandchildren. Other times, our immediate self-interest in, say, prison or criminal justice reform isn’t entirely clear. Still, we have neighbors who that fraught topic effects significantly. We’re riveted by news about conflict in Baltimore and the Black Lives Matter movement. Besides, we serve a God who splendidly called us all Beloved Children, and for that reason alone, whatever improves, diminishes or threatens the social fabric ought make a difference to our spiritual well-being.
What’s more, Christians have profound, millennia-tested insights for making that “public” space better; good ideas for the doing of justice and loving of kindness that Micah 6:8 recommends to those attempting to walk humbly with God. Hence the “theology” in “public theology.” That’s when Christians speak spiritually-derived wisdom about situations that impact world and church together.
Notice that’s different than attempting to convert people. It’s also distinct from the unabashedly partisan harangues that characterize too much current public religious speech. Rather, over the past two years, my colleagues and I explored how to think and speak about issues important to the common good (education, health care, criminal justice, business, poverty) with patience for complexity and comfort with nuance. And respect for disagreement.
Maybe that last lesson’s one we all need to honor better. Too many comments about public issues quickly turn political, then devolve into sarcasm, meanness and cynicism. By contrast, good public theology- whether done by a preacher in the pulpit, a co-worker around the watercooler, a neighbor at coffee with friends- values those the speaker disagrees with. It doesn’t mean s/he keeps silent about the truth our faith in Jesus helps reveal. But s/he should acknowledge the image of God in any potential adversary, and respond accordingly.
After all, the reason we speak anything about this stuff, again, is location. We are located- created!- in a particular place, with specific characteristics and people, and it’s that fullness to which we’re responsible. Not to some ideology or party, nor to a small group we feel most comfortable with or like best. It’s the entirety of our neighborhoods and society that Christians must care about, think about, pray about, act together to improve. For the God of us is the God of all, and nobody’s lacks an invitation to God’s heavenly banquet.
In other words, we’re called to engage the world as it is, not simply as we wish it could be. That includes perspectives we might not like, nor understand initially. Therefore, the counterintuitive first step of Christians attempting public theology is…listening. First, we listen for God’s wisdom in prayer and worship, scripture and Christian tradition. Then, we listen for holy insights in the dreams and convictions of neighbors. Ever “chatted” with someone so eager to speak you could tell they weren’t hearing at all? It’s absolutely obnoxious, amen?! Christians shouldn’t be like that, though we’ve done so before, myself most definitely included.
But now, I’m going to try to act different. The issues are too important, the wisdom we have too precious. And more importantly, the potential of anyone we encounter to shine God’s light to us and with us is always present. Perhaps if we modeled such ways of being and speaking more regularly- rather than blustering or staying silent- than the epidemic of snide, divisive speech that’s rending our social fabric would start healing. And with it, some of our world’s pain. A worthy dream, I’d say.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
You may not be familiar with that term, public theology. If it sounds like professional clergy jargon, well, you’re not wrong. Nevertheless, it’s a valuable idea. The point is that churches don’t exist for themselves alone. We operate in a location, a public context whose needs and failures, triumphs and hopes we bear some responsibility for. Sometimes, broader social issues obviously impact many of our people; the high costs of health care in an aging nation, the possibilities of school success for our children and grandchildren. Other times, our immediate self-interest in, say, prison or criminal justice reform isn’t entirely clear. Still, we have neighbors who that fraught topic effects significantly. We’re riveted by news about conflict in Baltimore and the Black Lives Matter movement. Besides, we serve a God who splendidly called us all Beloved Children, and for that reason alone, whatever improves, diminishes or threatens the social fabric ought make a difference to our spiritual well-being.
What’s more, Christians have profound, millennia-tested insights for making that “public” space better; good ideas for the doing of justice and loving of kindness that Micah 6:8 recommends to those attempting to walk humbly with God. Hence the “theology” in “public theology.” That’s when Christians speak spiritually-derived wisdom about situations that impact world and church together.
Notice that’s different than attempting to convert people. It’s also distinct from the unabashedly partisan harangues that characterize too much current public religious speech. Rather, over the past two years, my colleagues and I explored how to think and speak about issues important to the common good (education, health care, criminal justice, business, poverty) with patience for complexity and comfort with nuance. And respect for disagreement.
Maybe that last lesson’s one we all need to honor better. Too many comments about public issues quickly turn political, then devolve into sarcasm, meanness and cynicism. By contrast, good public theology- whether done by a preacher in the pulpit, a co-worker around the watercooler, a neighbor at coffee with friends- values those the speaker disagrees with. It doesn’t mean s/he keeps silent about the truth our faith in Jesus helps reveal. But s/he should acknowledge the image of God in any potential adversary, and respond accordingly.
After all, the reason we speak anything about this stuff, again, is location. We are located- created!- in a particular place, with specific characteristics and people, and it’s that fullness to which we’re responsible. Not to some ideology or party, nor to a small group we feel most comfortable with or like best. It’s the entirety of our neighborhoods and society that Christians must care about, think about, pray about, act together to improve. For the God of us is the God of all, and nobody’s lacks an invitation to God’s heavenly banquet.
In other words, we’re called to engage the world as it is, not simply as we wish it could be. That includes perspectives we might not like, nor understand initially. Therefore, the counterintuitive first step of Christians attempting public theology is…listening. First, we listen for God’s wisdom in prayer and worship, scripture and Christian tradition. Then, we listen for holy insights in the dreams and convictions of neighbors. Ever “chatted” with someone so eager to speak you could tell they weren’t hearing at all? It’s absolutely obnoxious, amen?! Christians shouldn’t be like that, though we’ve done so before, myself most definitely included.
But now, I’m going to try to act different. The issues are too important, the wisdom we have too precious. And more importantly, the potential of anyone we encounter to shine God’s light to us and with us is always present. Perhaps if we modeled such ways of being and speaking more regularly- rather than blustering or staying silent- than the epidemic of snide, divisive speech that’s rending our social fabric would start healing. And with it, some of our world’s pain. A worthy dream, I’d say.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Friday, May 1, 2015
Bowed down…
I think my least favorite emotion is despair, although arrogance could compete. It’s just that despair, of all the negative emotions at least, seems the least productive. Sadness has a purging effect. Anger holds potential power for good. Even fear can have clarifying impacts. Despair, by contrast, feels like a stubborn, unhelpful partner. It doesn’t offer much healing, inspiration or insight. It’s like crawling in a cold hole, closing your eyes and refusing to don a nearby sweater. At its worst, despair lashes out in ways that fuel a fire needing of water. Unfortunately, and this is despair’s worst quality, it’s often entirely understandable.
I’m pondering despair for several reasons this week. One is news of violent conflicts in Baltimore streets. The precipitating event was the death of a young black man in police custody. I don’t know the full details, but it sounds too depressingly familiar. As in other cases, this week, local citizens publicly protested while police stood guard. Someone lashed out violently. Violence escalated, and the word “riot” replaced “protest” in news reports.
Please pray for nonviolent protesters and police doing the dangerous work of ensuring a safer, better community.
Anyway, it made me recall a small moment I had on the first nice Saturday of Spring. I’d walked Fawkes to the local park, where many teenagers were gathered, mostly African-American. The crowd was larger than normal, but given my neighborhood, its racial makeup made sense. Also, eight police cars were driving around and into the park, which I’d never witnessed there before. The tension was palpable, bit I continued the walk, eventually turning home.
On my block, some neighbors were milling about. I chatted with one young black man, and mentioned the police at the park, saying how it surprised me. He said, “There’s always lots of police there,” and scoffed. We silently each turned toward home. Since then, I’ve wondered what he typically saw that I didn’t, what he expects that I don’t.
I won’t put words in my neighbor’s mouth, but our racial difference obviously influenced that conversation, especially our attitudes about police. Many cops patrol my neighborhood. I smile and thank them when I get the chance. I also see many of my male black neighbors draw back in caution, suspicion or fear. Researchers say that’s a rational act, given the much higher likelihood that, while simply strolling down my block, a black man my age will be detained, questioned and arrested than I will. That’s not because most police officers are intentionally biased or mean, but something’s not fully holy yet in our society, amen?
Which returns me to despair and “rioting.” Here’s something Dr. King said, “It’s not enough for me to…condemn riots…(I)ntolerable conditions that exist in our society…cause individuals to feel that they have no other alternative than to engage in violent rebellions to get attention…(A) riot is the language of the unheard.” Conditions have changed for many since King spoke, but many still struggle to eat, work, avoid prison, breathe, and to justify hope. And hope made King’s call for nonviolent change rational. Sadly, hope seems a dangerous deceit, a source of weakness for some of my neighbors, many not so different from Baltimore residents. That doesn’t make violent outbursts morally defensible, just more comprehensible.
Despair is the absence of hope, in social and personal problems. Despair sucks all light from our rooms, our spirits, our communities, inspiring self-defeating lethargy, lashing out or giving up. Fortunately, people of faith have tools to battle despair; not by ignoring it, nor submitting to it. Instead, we’re bold enough to name it, before God, as the powerful, tempting force it is. Lamentations 3:20- “My soul continually thinks of (my affliction and homelessness) and is bowed down within me.” That’s a clear declaration of despair. But never forget the following verses- “(T)his I call to mind, and I have hope. The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases. God’s mercies never come to an end.”
In other words, if we rely on our own capacities, ideas, strengths and resources, we’ll fall short, or fail each other. History teaches that lesson too tragically. Fortunately, hope needn’t rely on us to be real and effective. God’s mercy renews every morning. Great is God’s faithfulness.
Of course, that’s easy for me to say, not currently enduring the despair temptation. So I pray I’ll react to others’ pain and despair with compassion rather than judgment. May we all desire understanding. And I pray hope enters those who need it today. May they bow down in supplication, not resignation.
Amen,
Shane
Read more!
I’m pondering despair for several reasons this week. One is news of violent conflicts in Baltimore streets. The precipitating event was the death of a young black man in police custody. I don’t know the full details, but it sounds too depressingly familiar. As in other cases, this week, local citizens publicly protested while police stood guard. Someone lashed out violently. Violence escalated, and the word “riot” replaced “protest” in news reports.
Please pray for nonviolent protesters and police doing the dangerous work of ensuring a safer, better community.
Anyway, it made me recall a small moment I had on the first nice Saturday of Spring. I’d walked Fawkes to the local park, where many teenagers were gathered, mostly African-American. The crowd was larger than normal, but given my neighborhood, its racial makeup made sense. Also, eight police cars were driving around and into the park, which I’d never witnessed there before. The tension was palpable, bit I continued the walk, eventually turning home.
On my block, some neighbors were milling about. I chatted with one young black man, and mentioned the police at the park, saying how it surprised me. He said, “There’s always lots of police there,” and scoffed. We silently each turned toward home. Since then, I’ve wondered what he typically saw that I didn’t, what he expects that I don’t.
I won’t put words in my neighbor’s mouth, but our racial difference obviously influenced that conversation, especially our attitudes about police. Many cops patrol my neighborhood. I smile and thank them when I get the chance. I also see many of my male black neighbors draw back in caution, suspicion or fear. Researchers say that’s a rational act, given the much higher likelihood that, while simply strolling down my block, a black man my age will be detained, questioned and arrested than I will. That’s not because most police officers are intentionally biased or mean, but something’s not fully holy yet in our society, amen?
Which returns me to despair and “rioting.” Here’s something Dr. King said, “It’s not enough for me to…condemn riots…(I)ntolerable conditions that exist in our society…cause individuals to feel that they have no other alternative than to engage in violent rebellions to get attention…(A) riot is the language of the unheard.” Conditions have changed for many since King spoke, but many still struggle to eat, work, avoid prison, breathe, and to justify hope. And hope made King’s call for nonviolent change rational. Sadly, hope seems a dangerous deceit, a source of weakness for some of my neighbors, many not so different from Baltimore residents. That doesn’t make violent outbursts morally defensible, just more comprehensible.
Despair is the absence of hope, in social and personal problems. Despair sucks all light from our rooms, our spirits, our communities, inspiring self-defeating lethargy, lashing out or giving up. Fortunately, people of faith have tools to battle despair; not by ignoring it, nor submitting to it. Instead, we’re bold enough to name it, before God, as the powerful, tempting force it is. Lamentations 3:20- “My soul continually thinks of (my affliction and homelessness) and is bowed down within me.” That’s a clear declaration of despair. But never forget the following verses- “(T)his I call to mind, and I have hope. The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases. God’s mercies never come to an end.”
In other words, if we rely on our own capacities, ideas, strengths and resources, we’ll fall short, or fail each other. History teaches that lesson too tragically. Fortunately, hope needn’t rely on us to be real and effective. God’s mercy renews every morning. Great is God’s faithfulness.
Of course, that’s easy for me to say, not currently enduring the despair temptation. So I pray I’ll react to others’ pain and despair with compassion rather than judgment. May we all desire understanding. And I pray hope enters those who need it today. May they bow down in supplication, not resignation.
Amen,
Shane
Read more!
Stewardship Letter
Growing Forward,
What a momentous time in the life of our church!It seems like just a few weeks ago that you received a letter about the building expansion with Yellow Brick Road. In it, we asked the church to donate or pledge funds for a construction loan down payment. It was an audacious moment. We’re a vibrant, but small congregation. Time was short. The ask was substantial. You responded, though, allowing the church reach its $50,000 fundraising goal!
Therefore, we’ve sent in our loan application to Church Extension, confident in our building design, construction plan, and financial situation. We’re simply waiting for their consideration and (God willing!) approval so we can get the building going. Then the real work begins, amen?!
That’s why I’m writing again today. The impact this building project will have on our church and neighborhood will be substantial. Seventeen low-income families annually receiving critical child care assistance to change their kids’- and family’s- future paths and dreams! Open space in our building again- finally!- to design new ministry offerings so neighbors can meet, grow and shine with us. We’ll have opportunity to freshen up our hospitality, boost our community profile, deepen our story of helping build God’s Kingdom in our midst.
But what that takes, you surely know, is the ongoing support and financial commitment of Plymouth Creek members and friends. Together, we did something extra and special to lift the building expansion off the ground. Together, we’ll need to continue to maintain or increase our regular tithes and offerings for the church’s operating budget.
We all know that, at first glance, giving to ensure bills and salaries are paid, office materials purchased, mailing costs covered, isn’t as exciting as securing needed services for poor children. Except we also know that nothing else we take pride in here- quality music and choir, a weekly bus ministry for members and guests, a full and poised-for-expansion community garden- can transpire if the annual budget isn’t met. We do that year after year through your generous, courageous giving. And we’re on the cusp of a new chapter where growth in ministry, membership and spiritual depth is before us, if we’re prepared to seize the opportunity.
So throughout May, we’ll think together about that fundamental Christian task of stewardship. Then, we’ll ask that you turn in pledge cards on or before May 24th. The church fiscal year ends May 31. We’ll need a new budget, therefore, to vote on at the annual congregational meeting in mid-June. Building that works best if we know the amount of donations we’ll receive next year. Hence, this letter.
Will you pray about the ongoing support you can provide Plymouth Creek next year? It would be great if you can increase what you did last year. Whatever your situation, though, please fill out the form at the bottom of this letter, detach it and either put it in the offering plate soon or mail it to the church office.
And thank you for your generous commitment to this church, to what God continues to accomplish through our efforts! With your time, treasures, talents and dreams, we are growing forward in pursuit of Christ’s call for us to love and serve and shine.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Friday, April 24, 2015
Providing…
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!
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 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!
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