Can I confess something? I don’t like the fact that, over twenty years ago, we changed our name away from New Ventures Christian Church. For those still around who were involved in that decision, please know I’m not second-guessing or casting stones! I realize there were great reasons for the change. You’d worked for over a decade to grow the community, buy the land, build the building, and were, therefore, committing to being in this place, doing ministry at this location, integrating your church family, your hopes for making God’s Kingdom come within the Plymouth Creek neighborhood. That’s a beautiful a reason. Commitment is holy. Hence, Plymouth Creek is a good name.
But I love New Ventures, the former name. Some of the backstory, of course, was a struggle between leadership at FCC Minneapolis, nudging people to feel led by God to embark on the new venture of forming a new church. The name “Plymouth Creek” was a small way of moving on, therefore, by claiming an independent identity. Choosing New Ventures in the first place, though, was a wise act of faithfulness. After all, what else is living faithfully than frequent experiences of newness, of changing directions, of everyday resurrections? Part of me wishes the old name remained because it would’ve kept that mission- to forge forward in new ventures with God constantly- front and center, always.
Well, I’m discussing that name because we have a new venture ahead, Church. Alas, it’s not the one we anticipated. Last Monday, due to lack of funds, the Board decided that, unless some miracle arises, we’re ceasing efforts to renovate and expand our building with Yellow Brick Road Childcare.
I must share how proud I was of your leadership as they made that heartbreaking decision. They understood it comes with real costs- money paid we won’t get back, large bills still outstanding, the likelihood that our child care tenant will leave in the near future, with all the budget ramifications that holds. To say nothing of not accomplishing the good work for kids from poor families that we dreamed about. Nevertheless, they talked about God’s will together, prayed together, loved one another without blaming each other or others, and basically were the good, faithful Christians we know makes God’s heart sing.
It says something about people’s (or a church’s) character, the old adage goes, how they react when the cards aren’t falling their way. Your Board reacted faithfully. And hopefully. And that’s awesome! You see, our conversation wasn’t just about whether we’re able to do this or not, or what the fallout will be. We’ve discussed all that, of course, and will be quick to share what we learn when we learn it. But soon enough they turned to, “So what’s next? God brought us this far. We learned important things, and the dream of using our resources to grow our community in numbers and mission impact remains. This chapter closed. The book hasn’t ended.”
Put differently, new ventures remain. So after a meeting you’d imagine I or others would leave feeling dejected, defeated, instead I walked to my car with a smile on my face and lightness in my heart. And I was grateful to have witnessed the Christian hearts of these people, of you. Thank you!
And again I ask, “What’s next?!” Indeed, that’ll be the topic of our Fall Sermon Series, for your information. We’ll look at Scripture’s many texts and stories about reversals, new life, fresh beginnings because we know that new ventures are God’s specialty. And they’re in our church DNA too, if no longer in our name. Please lift your hearts in prayer, then, for discernment among your leadership. Contact them or me with any concerns, questions, or ideas that pop up. Finally, thank YBR for walking with us on this road, and risking with us, and taking serious losses too in hopes that we’d be able to serve our neighbors better together. Their next steps are also uncertain. May God guide them with grace as God does us. And may we all respond with faith, hope and love.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, September 18, 2015
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
We are walking…
Years ago, I read an idea that’s shaped my thinking since. It claims that Christianity can be understood as a long-running debate. In one corner is the church behind John’s Gospel, typified by Christ’s final commandment in that book: Love one another as I’ve loved you. In the other corner is the church behind Luke’s Gospel, typified by another commandment, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
Perhaps you’re thinking, “Shane, what debate? Those ideas are the same!” In some cases, maybe. But look closer, and at least I see two poles on one constantly swinging pendulum.
After all, in John’s Gospel, the focus is internal. Love one another, Jesus says, as in your fellow sisters and brothers in Christ. The goal here is guarding the faithful, defending the purity of their truth claims, not letting “the world” invade. There’s some historical justification for that sentiment. John’s community was harassed. They experienced derision from neighbors, expulsion from synagogues and cities, occasional outright persecution. And such looming threats can weigh on a community. Infighting and bickering become common: “If only she’d shut her trap…” “If only he had done more…” John, therefore, quotes Jesus begging, “Love one another,” or else the whole ship might sink!
Luke’s Gospel, by contrast, focuses outwardly. His Jesus spends less time concerned about his disciples’ relationship to each other, than their relationship to the world. In particular, he wants them offering love and service, guidance and acceptance, forgiveness, to the most vulnerable around them. “Love your neighbor as yourself,” he counsels, and it’s not like his community had it easy. They too experienced derision, rejection, persecution. But to keep people united, Luke counsels they focus on helping widows, orphans, outcasts, strangers, and not buildings a wall around the church, enforcing strict standards of identity and purity, a la John. Rather, Luke says, “Hey, if we wanna beat this trouble, let’s throw our doors open wider! Serve and love our neighbors more!”
Hence, the debate that’s evolved within Christianity across centuries and cultures: Is our primary mission internal or external? Especially when we’re vulnerable, should we guard our “truth”, protect our Christian identity above all, or should we open our doors and tables wider, aiming above all to love neighbors as best we can?
Both answers, of course, have value. When forced to choose, though, I go with Luke. I love John’s language, poetry and insights. But I think he’s wrong about the best Christian mission. It’s not defending truth; it’s showering love, particularly on and with those in need.
I bring this up by way of introducing an idea that began with a Servant Leaders conversation months ago, and will become a church activity this month. Every year, our city has a parade, aptly called Plymouth on Parade. Local institutions, schools and citizens march together, celebrating the tapestry of our community. This year’s parade is September 26. Our Servant Leaders wanted us to join in, signaling to neighbors, “We’re here! You can be too!” In other words, it’s an act of opening up, of challenging the church to think beyond our building and our relationships, and instead to imagine anew the new connections we can create with others.
So they signed us up! All PCCCers are invited to march. We’ll bring the bus, wear church t-shirts, have fun together. We’ll also hand out fliers to onlookers, which will include worship information as well as a call to action. We’re inviting neighbors to join a food/clothing drive the following week. The flyer will say, “Bring donations to our church by October 3. We’ll take them to people in need!” That, too, is about opening up, communicating not just, “We’re Here! You can be too!” But also, “We’re here! We love people! You can too, with us!”
Will that bring more visitors? Maybe. It’s certainly worth trying. Will those visitors return? Perhaps, especially if we’re open to forming new relationships. Will we collect enough donations to feel like it’s “worth it”? Who cares?! Jesus said Love, in both commandments. And however we do that, if we love, actively, we’re behaving as we should be. No debate about that!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Perhaps you’re thinking, “Shane, what debate? Those ideas are the same!” In some cases, maybe. But look closer, and at least I see two poles on one constantly swinging pendulum.
After all, in John’s Gospel, the focus is internal. Love one another, Jesus says, as in your fellow sisters and brothers in Christ. The goal here is guarding the faithful, defending the purity of their truth claims, not letting “the world” invade. There’s some historical justification for that sentiment. John’s community was harassed. They experienced derision from neighbors, expulsion from synagogues and cities, occasional outright persecution. And such looming threats can weigh on a community. Infighting and bickering become common: “If only she’d shut her trap…” “If only he had done more…” John, therefore, quotes Jesus begging, “Love one another,” or else the whole ship might sink!
Luke’s Gospel, by contrast, focuses outwardly. His Jesus spends less time concerned about his disciples’ relationship to each other, than their relationship to the world. In particular, he wants them offering love and service, guidance and acceptance, forgiveness, to the most vulnerable around them. “Love your neighbor as yourself,” he counsels, and it’s not like his community had it easy. They too experienced derision, rejection, persecution. But to keep people united, Luke counsels they focus on helping widows, orphans, outcasts, strangers, and not buildings a wall around the church, enforcing strict standards of identity and purity, a la John. Rather, Luke says, “Hey, if we wanna beat this trouble, let’s throw our doors open wider! Serve and love our neighbors more!”
Hence, the debate that’s evolved within Christianity across centuries and cultures: Is our primary mission internal or external? Especially when we’re vulnerable, should we guard our “truth”, protect our Christian identity above all, or should we open our doors and tables wider, aiming above all to love neighbors as best we can?
Both answers, of course, have value. When forced to choose, though, I go with Luke. I love John’s language, poetry and insights. But I think he’s wrong about the best Christian mission. It’s not defending truth; it’s showering love, particularly on and with those in need.
I bring this up by way of introducing an idea that began with a Servant Leaders conversation months ago, and will become a church activity this month. Every year, our city has a parade, aptly called Plymouth on Parade. Local institutions, schools and citizens march together, celebrating the tapestry of our community. This year’s parade is September 26. Our Servant Leaders wanted us to join in, signaling to neighbors, “We’re here! You can be too!” In other words, it’s an act of opening up, of challenging the church to think beyond our building and our relationships, and instead to imagine anew the new connections we can create with others.
So they signed us up! All PCCCers are invited to march. We’ll bring the bus, wear church t-shirts, have fun together. We’ll also hand out fliers to onlookers, which will include worship information as well as a call to action. We’re inviting neighbors to join a food/clothing drive the following week. The flyer will say, “Bring donations to our church by October 3. We’ll take them to people in need!” That, too, is about opening up, communicating not just, “We’re Here! You can be too!” But also, “We’re here! We love people! You can too, with us!”
Will that bring more visitors? Maybe. It’s certainly worth trying. Will those visitors return? Perhaps, especially if we’re open to forming new relationships. Will we collect enough donations to feel like it’s “worth it”? Who cares?! Jesus said Love, in both commandments. And however we do that, if we love, actively, we’re behaving as we should be. No debate about that!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
Reconciliation…
In early June, I’m sure everyone remembers, a white man entered a black church’s Bible Study in Charleston, SC. Its members welcomed him warmly. After an hour, he shot nine dead.
Immediately, people across the country were horrified. And the heinous deed stood in starker relief, days later, when survivors publicly forgave the killer. Then…well…many people moved on, to new news stories, to the unfolding demands of daily life. What can be done, people might ask. What can someone who lives far away do in the face of another’s evil heart?
But on August 28, our denomination’s leaders wrote a letter challenging Disciples churches to not let this story get lost. In particular, they’ve joined with other church leaders - including the African Methodist Episcopal Church (AME, which is the Charleston church’s denomination) - to invite Christians to a Sunday of confession, repentance and commitment to end racism.
Specifically, they’re hoping we’ll incorporate something into worship on September 6, and so add our voices to a collective claim that racism’s stain has endured too long. Plymouth Creek will participate, opening our worship by seeking God’s guidance and grace for this sensitive subject.
Yet I wonder if people will feel like this is too little, too late, or – dare I say it – unnecessary? “After all,” I could imagine someone responding, “The issue is that the Charleston shooter was one racist acting violently. Why should I confess, repent and commit to change? Shouldn’t we simply cheer on the victims’ amazing grace?”
I don’t know your answer to those questions, but here’s mine: I’m participating that day because I’m a racist. Yep. I’m not a virulent, committed white supremacist who proudly treats people of different ethnic backgrounds as less human. God forbid! Rather, I’m the other kind of racist, the more subtle and widespread kind.
I’m the kind who grew up thinking that color doesn’t matter anymore, since God only cares about our hearts. I’ve since learned that, while truly God doesn’t judge based on skin color, that doesn’t mean race doesn’t still matter. I see how (mostly white) people treat my black foster son different- often worse- because they assume things about him they wouldn’t about a white boy. It’s not malicious or intentional usually, but it happens and that affects him. I’m aware that I too treat my black neighbors different at times than white neighbors- through words choices I make, topics for small talk, etc.- and I don’t even want to do it! Thus, I dislike that my subconscious is shaped by assumptions about other people based on skin color. But I won’t lie and say those assumption aren’t there. They burrowed into my heart really early in life. Thankfully, I’ve made intentional steps to expunge their negative influence. Still, that work’s unfinished. So I’m still a little bit racist.
And, probably, so are you. Which I don’t say as a judgment of your character. You’re all good people; I am too! I mean, it’s not like my parents taught me to think or react this way. It’s a society thing that most (especially white) people simply absorb. And thank God that these assumptions aren’t as pernicious or mean as in previous generations, or as violent as what that shooter believed. But since they’re still there at all is what makes our leaders’ call to end racism relevant.
That’s similar to how scholars distinguish between personal racism and systemic racism. The personal kind is the kind that many loathe and shy away from. Good! The systemic kind is harder, because is less noticeable, more polite, often subconscious, but it impacts things like getting home loans, frequency of arrests, rates of detention and expulsion in school. So when we pray together on the 6th, I’ll be praying for a) my own wholeness and healing, and b) the wholeness and healing of our broader society. Which has done so much to get better, and has so much more to do to get even better. Meaning, that Christians – who believe that, with God’s help, we can all always get better! – should lead the way and pray together. Then commit together, acting to end this too-long tolerated stain.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Immediately, people across the country were horrified. And the heinous deed stood in starker relief, days later, when survivors publicly forgave the killer. Then…well…many people moved on, to new news stories, to the unfolding demands of daily life. What can be done, people might ask. What can someone who lives far away do in the face of another’s evil heart?
But on August 28, our denomination’s leaders wrote a letter challenging Disciples churches to not let this story get lost. In particular, they’ve joined with other church leaders - including the African Methodist Episcopal Church (AME, which is the Charleston church’s denomination) - to invite Christians to a Sunday of confession, repentance and commitment to end racism.
Specifically, they’re hoping we’ll incorporate something into worship on September 6, and so add our voices to a collective claim that racism’s stain has endured too long. Plymouth Creek will participate, opening our worship by seeking God’s guidance and grace for this sensitive subject.
Yet I wonder if people will feel like this is too little, too late, or – dare I say it – unnecessary? “After all,” I could imagine someone responding, “The issue is that the Charleston shooter was one racist acting violently. Why should I confess, repent and commit to change? Shouldn’t we simply cheer on the victims’ amazing grace?”
I don’t know your answer to those questions, but here’s mine: I’m participating that day because I’m a racist. Yep. I’m not a virulent, committed white supremacist who proudly treats people of different ethnic backgrounds as less human. God forbid! Rather, I’m the other kind of racist, the more subtle and widespread kind.
I’m the kind who grew up thinking that color doesn’t matter anymore, since God only cares about our hearts. I’ve since learned that, while truly God doesn’t judge based on skin color, that doesn’t mean race doesn’t still matter. I see how (mostly white) people treat my black foster son different- often worse- because they assume things about him they wouldn’t about a white boy. It’s not malicious or intentional usually, but it happens and that affects him. I’m aware that I too treat my black neighbors different at times than white neighbors- through words choices I make, topics for small talk, etc.- and I don’t even want to do it! Thus, I dislike that my subconscious is shaped by assumptions about other people based on skin color. But I won’t lie and say those assumption aren’t there. They burrowed into my heart really early in life. Thankfully, I’ve made intentional steps to expunge their negative influence. Still, that work’s unfinished. So I’m still a little bit racist.
And, probably, so are you. Which I don’t say as a judgment of your character. You’re all good people; I am too! I mean, it’s not like my parents taught me to think or react this way. It’s a society thing that most (especially white) people simply absorb. And thank God that these assumptions aren’t as pernicious or mean as in previous generations, or as violent as what that shooter believed. But since they’re still there at all is what makes our leaders’ call to end racism relevant.
That’s similar to how scholars distinguish between personal racism and systemic racism. The personal kind is the kind that many loathe and shy away from. Good! The systemic kind is harder, because is less noticeable, more polite, often subconscious, but it impacts things like getting home loans, frequency of arrests, rates of detention and expulsion in school. So when we pray together on the 6th, I’ll be praying for a) my own wholeness and healing, and b) the wholeness and healing of our broader society. Which has done so much to get better, and has so much more to do to get even better. Meaning, that Christians – who believe that, with God’s help, we can all always get better! – should lead the way and pray together. Then commit together, acting to end this too-long tolerated stain.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Well-attired…
My family is dealing with something both obnoxious and welcome: school uniform policy.
School started this Monday for our foster kid (and I know I’ve said we wouldn’t have him once school started…well…“developments” occurred that will keep him with us longer. How much? Who knows anymore? We plan, God laughs, Grace endures). Anywho, he’s now attending a school with a uniform policy. The look’s familiar to many: khaki pants, navy polos, black or brown school shoes, under-stated gym shoes for PE, no hats. Which is to say, nothing interesting. And while he was excited when we went shopping (new stuff? Wahoo!!!), once it came time to deal with looking like everybody else, said excitement faded.
For instance, when I dropped him off on day one, I removed his hat and he immediately covered his head with his jacket. His cute version of being shy, while worrying about how he looks. Plus, several kids didn’t have the “proper” school shoes on, and that seemed unfair, and he was feeling out-of-place, and worried about new teacher/new friends/what everyone’s thinking, so began whining, “Why can’t I wear my gym shoes now?! The other boy’s wearing his gym shoes.” I resisted. But only for 87 seconds, forgive me. I then let him swap shoes, knowing I was only outsourcing that fight to his teacher, who’d demand a switch in half-an-hour’s time. I should email an apology.
The point is, his problem with the uniform was about the uniform, but so much more.
Here are reasons I love the policy. Morning routine will go super fast once we’re not debating whether favorite pants are clean, or if the shirt properly “matches”, or if there’s another acceptable hat, since Shane lost one last night (I do that…oops). Bus comes at 6:36am now. Every minute counts!
Besides, more substantively, I remember the pressures of my school clothing being an advertisement to potential friends, or fodder for rivals, and how that impeded relationship building. Such status signaling will occur with uniforms too, though probably less of it, which could nurture better community. Finally, I suspect families with fewer resources than mine are glad to feel less keeping-up-with-the-Joneses-and-Isners pressure, as regards their kids’ fashion choices. Doing what’s better for poorer families is, I’m convinced, usually what Christians should support.
Still, there are reasons I hate the policy too. I don’t believe the job of kids is to make their adults’ worlds easier. We care for kids because of the disruption to our lives they bring, not in spite of it. So while uniforms will create smoother mornings, such smoothness isn’t a primary value for me.
What’s more important, I think, is whether our foster son feels good about himself, whether he’s able to express his inner life adequately. Or better yet, magnificently! Yet forcing one clothing style keeps him from standing out. Isn’t that the opposite of self-expression? Isn’t it wise for a boy to grow comfortable with standing out (for positive reasons)? Speaking his mind (kindly)? Discovering his joys (without diminishing others)?! Being a leader?!
Thus, generally speaking, I don’t consider sartorial creativity a problem that needs to be managed or disciplined into submission. Plus, the gender assumptions annoy me- e.g. girls can wear earring studs; boys can’t- as if there’s one expected (accepted?) way of being a girl or a boy. Lastly, if it’s not clothes, then extracurriculars, shoes, backpacks, etc. will pressure families economically. Does the uniform policy alleviate enough money worry to justify dampening a poor child’s range of expression?
I’m not yet convinced. After all, in the emergence of any new identity – be that for a growing child, a newly-retired Christian…a church- a bit of chaos ought be anticipated and tolerated. Growing is messy, sometimes contradictory, often challenging. Responding to that by enforcing conformity, though, doesn’t put unity in the community. It dims the lighting of the whole. After all, distinct, differentiated identities, by definition, stand out and shine. That’s only healthy. Which is why I’d prefer no clothing policy, or something less strict. Clothing is symbolic, and I want our foster kid’s imagination encouraged. Though, again, I’ll enjoy those simpler mornings…
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
School started this Monday for our foster kid (and I know I’ve said we wouldn’t have him once school started…well…“developments” occurred that will keep him with us longer. How much? Who knows anymore? We plan, God laughs, Grace endures). Anywho, he’s now attending a school with a uniform policy. The look’s familiar to many: khaki pants, navy polos, black or brown school shoes, under-stated gym shoes for PE, no hats. Which is to say, nothing interesting. And while he was excited when we went shopping (new stuff? Wahoo!!!), once it came time to deal with looking like everybody else, said excitement faded.
For instance, when I dropped him off on day one, I removed his hat and he immediately covered his head with his jacket. His cute version of being shy, while worrying about how he looks. Plus, several kids didn’t have the “proper” school shoes on, and that seemed unfair, and he was feeling out-of-place, and worried about new teacher/new friends/what everyone’s thinking, so began whining, “Why can’t I wear my gym shoes now?! The other boy’s wearing his gym shoes.” I resisted. But only for 87 seconds, forgive me. I then let him swap shoes, knowing I was only outsourcing that fight to his teacher, who’d demand a switch in half-an-hour’s time. I should email an apology.
The point is, his problem with the uniform was about the uniform, but so much more.
Here are reasons I love the policy. Morning routine will go super fast once we’re not debating whether favorite pants are clean, or if the shirt properly “matches”, or if there’s another acceptable hat, since Shane lost one last night (I do that…oops). Bus comes at 6:36am now. Every minute counts!
Besides, more substantively, I remember the pressures of my school clothing being an advertisement to potential friends, or fodder for rivals, and how that impeded relationship building. Such status signaling will occur with uniforms too, though probably less of it, which could nurture better community. Finally, I suspect families with fewer resources than mine are glad to feel less keeping-up-with-the-Joneses-and-Isners pressure, as regards their kids’ fashion choices. Doing what’s better for poorer families is, I’m convinced, usually what Christians should support.
Still, there are reasons I hate the policy too. I don’t believe the job of kids is to make their adults’ worlds easier. We care for kids because of the disruption to our lives they bring, not in spite of it. So while uniforms will create smoother mornings, such smoothness isn’t a primary value for me.
What’s more important, I think, is whether our foster son feels good about himself, whether he’s able to express his inner life adequately. Or better yet, magnificently! Yet forcing one clothing style keeps him from standing out. Isn’t that the opposite of self-expression? Isn’t it wise for a boy to grow comfortable with standing out (for positive reasons)? Speaking his mind (kindly)? Discovering his joys (without diminishing others)?! Being a leader?!
Thus, generally speaking, I don’t consider sartorial creativity a problem that needs to be managed or disciplined into submission. Plus, the gender assumptions annoy me- e.g. girls can wear earring studs; boys can’t- as if there’s one expected (accepted?) way of being a girl or a boy. Lastly, if it’s not clothes, then extracurriculars, shoes, backpacks, etc. will pressure families economically. Does the uniform policy alleviate enough money worry to justify dampening a poor child’s range of expression?
I’m not yet convinced. After all, in the emergence of any new identity – be that for a growing child, a newly-retired Christian…a church- a bit of chaos ought be anticipated and tolerated. Growing is messy, sometimes contradictory, often challenging. Responding to that by enforcing conformity, though, doesn’t put unity in the community. It dims the lighting of the whole. After all, distinct, differentiated identities, by definition, stand out and shine. That’s only healthy. Which is why I’d prefer no clothing policy, or something less strict. Clothing is symbolic, and I want our foster kid’s imagination encouraged. Though, again, I’ll enjoy those simpler mornings…
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, August 21, 2015
Fine lines…
I wrote to someone not long ago that I’ve recently learned, “There’s fine line between stubbornness and faith.” Maybe it’s even in the eye of the beholder! The context, you’ll be unsurprised to hear, was our building project. For the past several months, it’s felt like an on-again, off-again situation, which was very jarring. Indeed, your leadership has traveled an active rollercoaster of frustration, changes and hopes.
As of this week, the car feels like it’s nearing a peak and – finally! – is poised to head downhill with excitement and speed. What I mean to say with that clunky metaphor is that our church received and accepted a loan offer from Klein Bank to fund the work!
As you maybe know, Church Extension originally rejected our application due to us attempting to be our own General Contractor. Klein doesn’t like that either, but is willing to work with us. Plus, they’re offering better rates than CE, which could prove useful. The church should see budget savings from a reduced mortgage, and also be able to stash away enough money to cover a year’s full mortgage. Should something unexpected happen to the child care center, that fund buys us time to recruit new tenants.
The deal hasn’t closed yet, of course. The bank will do title work, an appraisal, and need assurance that our construction budget is sufficient to build the building. We’re working closely with new contractors to provide that assurance, and should know – either way – in the next week. But assuming things go well, we’ll break ground in time to beat winter. Please keep praying for that!
And, again, what I’ve been reflecting on as this up-and-down process played itself out is that, at several points, we could’ve walked away, simply said, “It’s just too hard. Isn’t doing good supposed to be easier than this?!” I’ll be honest, I’m still tempted by that idea. That will be especially true if new contractor bids aren’t what we’re expecting. An alternative thought, however, is that we do what’s hard because it’s good. I like that better, that without a stick-to-itiveness, a tenacity and confidence that what we’re trying to accomplish is worth accomplishing, then good won’t be done. We’ll remain as we are, watching the status quo devolve into a much less interesting story about the power of Jesus’ Good News. Paul said that faith, hope and love are the three great Christian virtues. And they’re interdependent. Without hope, faith means little, to say nothing of love!
Hence, my recent insight about stubbornness. Sometimes being stubborn is about pride or, basically, not losing. Perhaps that’s been going on here. But I believe your leadership was up to something different, something better. I’m convinced their stubbornness to keeping finding new solutions, to take responsible and timely risks, to put it on the line consistently for the sake of pursuing Christ’s call, I believe that was about hope. A hope that we’re walking God’s way, a hope that the kids we’re serving and the church growth we’re seeding will pay off, making us and the world better, a hope that would diminish, even dissipate, if we decided to give up.
Hope without foundation is naiveté. Hope based on the promise and ways of God is faith. And faith is good! Because, essentially, it’s the stubborn commitment to trust that a better future is possible than one predicted by our fear. We’re too often told to fear. By so much around us- the news, our families, dour neighbors, bank account statements. That loud, resounding and repeating voice of fear convinces too many it’s also the voice of wisdom. That’s rarely true. Rather, I trust faith, that however stubborn it sounds, it’s better (and holier) to invest in futures forecasted by hope.
Of course, our project may all go south in a couple weeks, again, because not every step forward in faith ends the way we…hope. Nevertheless, I’m glad your church leaders chose that path rather than one less…rich, interesting, and primed. So tell those stubborn souls, next time you see them, “Thanks! Bravo! Keep it up!” Then, whatever happens, we’ll be faithful together.
As church should always be.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
As of this week, the car feels like it’s nearing a peak and – finally! – is poised to head downhill with excitement and speed. What I mean to say with that clunky metaphor is that our church received and accepted a loan offer from Klein Bank to fund the work!
As you maybe know, Church Extension originally rejected our application due to us attempting to be our own General Contractor. Klein doesn’t like that either, but is willing to work with us. Plus, they’re offering better rates than CE, which could prove useful. The church should see budget savings from a reduced mortgage, and also be able to stash away enough money to cover a year’s full mortgage. Should something unexpected happen to the child care center, that fund buys us time to recruit new tenants.
The deal hasn’t closed yet, of course. The bank will do title work, an appraisal, and need assurance that our construction budget is sufficient to build the building. We’re working closely with new contractors to provide that assurance, and should know – either way – in the next week. But assuming things go well, we’ll break ground in time to beat winter. Please keep praying for that!
And, again, what I’ve been reflecting on as this up-and-down process played itself out is that, at several points, we could’ve walked away, simply said, “It’s just too hard. Isn’t doing good supposed to be easier than this?!” I’ll be honest, I’m still tempted by that idea. That will be especially true if new contractor bids aren’t what we’re expecting. An alternative thought, however, is that we do what’s hard because it’s good. I like that better, that without a stick-to-itiveness, a tenacity and confidence that what we’re trying to accomplish is worth accomplishing, then good won’t be done. We’ll remain as we are, watching the status quo devolve into a much less interesting story about the power of Jesus’ Good News. Paul said that faith, hope and love are the three great Christian virtues. And they’re interdependent. Without hope, faith means little, to say nothing of love!
Hence, my recent insight about stubbornness. Sometimes being stubborn is about pride or, basically, not losing. Perhaps that’s been going on here. But I believe your leadership was up to something different, something better. I’m convinced their stubbornness to keeping finding new solutions, to take responsible and timely risks, to put it on the line consistently for the sake of pursuing Christ’s call, I believe that was about hope. A hope that we’re walking God’s way, a hope that the kids we’re serving and the church growth we’re seeding will pay off, making us and the world better, a hope that would diminish, even dissipate, if we decided to give up.
Hope without foundation is naiveté. Hope based on the promise and ways of God is faith. And faith is good! Because, essentially, it’s the stubborn commitment to trust that a better future is possible than one predicted by our fear. We’re too often told to fear. By so much around us- the news, our families, dour neighbors, bank account statements. That loud, resounding and repeating voice of fear convinces too many it’s also the voice of wisdom. That’s rarely true. Rather, I trust faith, that however stubborn it sounds, it’s better (and holier) to invest in futures forecasted by hope.
Of course, our project may all go south in a couple weeks, again, because not every step forward in faith ends the way we…hope. Nevertheless, I’m glad your church leaders chose that path rather than one less…rich, interesting, and primed. So tell those stubborn souls, next time you see them, “Thanks! Bravo! Keep it up!” Then, whatever happens, we’ll be faithful together.
As church should always be.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Economic practice…
I recently finished a book about Behavioral Economics called Misbehaving by Richard Thaler. I read such books, so you know both, to learn something new and to impress my econ-trained wife! Misbehaving had numerous good stories and insights, though one just became personally relevant. Let me explain.
First off, ask yourself: How well do people make shopping decisions? One classic answer is that, by and large, people shop rationally, i.e. get the most value for the lowest price. Thaler thinks, however, that we’re not always so efficient. Indeed, we make irrational decisions constantly, he says, but fortunately, not randomly. We are predictably irrational; say, regularly grabbing the first bag of chips we see rather than comparison shop waaay back in the chips aisle.
Sound familiar… Nevertheless, critics have responded, “Who cares? People might behave irrationally when buying chips. But for big stuff with much at stake, like buying a new roof, people will behave rationally.” Which also sounds plausible. But as someone currently purchasing a new roof, I find Thaler’s rejoinder convincing. He further suggests that because we buy chips more frequently than roofs, we get good at such decisions. Like practice for soccer players, the more we do it, the more efficient we can become.
Conversely, most rarely “get good” at roof shopping because it’s so seldom done. That’s how I currently feel. We made a hail insurance claim and know that the insurance company and contractors have both more experience and self-interest. Whose information to trust? How much time to spend on this unfamiliar decision? Thus, I feel less like the self-maximizing rational actor of classic economic theory. I’m more like Thaler’s bumbling amateur making the best of a situation, with much still at stake.
Hence, why I read such books! I’ll let you know if that helps. But for now, apply that idea to spirituality. In particular, consider forgiveness. Maybe close your eyes and think about what forgiveness really means, why it really matters….
Did you think about a BIG sin? Betrayal? Abuse? Violence? If so, you’re not alone. It’s how many Christians understand forgiveness, egged on by their preachers. We tell powerful stories, hear dramatic testimony of people begging forgiveness for something HUGE. Their subsequent transformation into Redeemed Sinner inspires folk, convinces folk that grace is real.
But isn’t that equivalent to a roof purchase? After all, moments when grace is massively needed aren’t how most experience forgiveness. We deal with simpler stuff more often- ignoring a spouse’s impatient comment, giving a pass to a tired kid, saying, “That’s alright,” when a co-worker apologizes for insensitivity. That list is loooong! But I worry that because many reserve the term ‘forgiveness’ for just The BIG Sins, they consider themselves unpracticed at grace, ignorant of forgiveness’ full dimensions.
At worst, this leads some to overinflate their sinfulness, like equating white lies with abuse. Which are certainly not the same, but such ‘sin inflation’ is common in many churches. People are told that God forgives sin, that everyone sins, but the only forgiveness stories told are the BIG, dramatic ones. A + B, therefore, = We’re All Depraved Monsters.
But, again, such dramatic stories are outliers, right? Not the common experience of daily, faithful living, suggesting that most Christians are well-practiced at forgiveness, or can become so. I find that idea empowering! It means that, a) practical spirituality can produce a HUGE testimony to grace, when viewed over time. Are you a Christian who’s maybe never had a dramatic conversion, but have worked for decades to get better at forgiving? The grace you’ve accumulated and shared is impressive. Well done!
It also means, b) when people struggle to accept or extend forgiveness for BIG things, it’s not necessarily because they’re irredeemable. Like roof purchases, most folk don’t often encounter that need. We’re typically amateurs, who might need time to find and accept other’s wise counsel. Just don’t give up on someone if s/he doesn’t come around immediately.
Call that the Behavioral Economics of Forgiveness. If you find other implications, let me know. In the meantime, remember that simple graces aren’t irrelevant. They’re building blocks for daily spirituality. So practice often, and practice well.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
First off, ask yourself: How well do people make shopping decisions? One classic answer is that, by and large, people shop rationally, i.e. get the most value for the lowest price. Thaler thinks, however, that we’re not always so efficient. Indeed, we make irrational decisions constantly, he says, but fortunately, not randomly. We are predictably irrational; say, regularly grabbing the first bag of chips we see rather than comparison shop waaay back in the chips aisle.
Sound familiar… Nevertheless, critics have responded, “Who cares? People might behave irrationally when buying chips. But for big stuff with much at stake, like buying a new roof, people will behave rationally.” Which also sounds plausible. But as someone currently purchasing a new roof, I find Thaler’s rejoinder convincing. He further suggests that because we buy chips more frequently than roofs, we get good at such decisions. Like practice for soccer players, the more we do it, the more efficient we can become.
Conversely, most rarely “get good” at roof shopping because it’s so seldom done. That’s how I currently feel. We made a hail insurance claim and know that the insurance company and contractors have both more experience and self-interest. Whose information to trust? How much time to spend on this unfamiliar decision? Thus, I feel less like the self-maximizing rational actor of classic economic theory. I’m more like Thaler’s bumbling amateur making the best of a situation, with much still at stake.
Hence, why I read such books! I’ll let you know if that helps. But for now, apply that idea to spirituality. In particular, consider forgiveness. Maybe close your eyes and think about what forgiveness really means, why it really matters….
Did you think about a BIG sin? Betrayal? Abuse? Violence? If so, you’re not alone. It’s how many Christians understand forgiveness, egged on by their preachers. We tell powerful stories, hear dramatic testimony of people begging forgiveness for something HUGE. Their subsequent transformation into Redeemed Sinner inspires folk, convinces folk that grace is real.
But isn’t that equivalent to a roof purchase? After all, moments when grace is massively needed aren’t how most experience forgiveness. We deal with simpler stuff more often- ignoring a spouse’s impatient comment, giving a pass to a tired kid, saying, “That’s alright,” when a co-worker apologizes for insensitivity. That list is loooong! But I worry that because many reserve the term ‘forgiveness’ for just The BIG Sins, they consider themselves unpracticed at grace, ignorant of forgiveness’ full dimensions.
At worst, this leads some to overinflate their sinfulness, like equating white lies with abuse. Which are certainly not the same, but such ‘sin inflation’ is common in many churches. People are told that God forgives sin, that everyone sins, but the only forgiveness stories told are the BIG, dramatic ones. A + B, therefore, = We’re All Depraved Monsters.
But, again, such dramatic stories are outliers, right? Not the common experience of daily, faithful living, suggesting that most Christians are well-practiced at forgiveness, or can become so. I find that idea empowering! It means that, a) practical spirituality can produce a HUGE testimony to grace, when viewed over time. Are you a Christian who’s maybe never had a dramatic conversion, but have worked for decades to get better at forgiving? The grace you’ve accumulated and shared is impressive. Well done!
It also means, b) when people struggle to accept or extend forgiveness for BIG things, it’s not necessarily because they’re irredeemable. Like roof purchases, most folk don’t often encounter that need. We’re typically amateurs, who might need time to find and accept other’s wise counsel. Just don’t give up on someone if s/he doesn’t come around immediately.
Call that the Behavioral Economics of Forgiveness. If you find other implications, let me know. In the meantime, remember that simple graces aren’t irrelevant. They’re building blocks for daily spirituality. So practice often, and practice well.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, August 7, 2015
Rerun…
Tabitha and I spent most of this week on stay-cation with our foster kid. Between that and other responsibilities at church, I didn’t have time to write a new letter. However, I think I’ve written some interesting stuff in the past. So I figured I’d just copy and paste something from several years ago that I enjoyed writing. Perhaps you’ll enjoy reading it, either again or for the first time. And if you didn’t like it when you read it years ago, feel free to skip this and go read some scripture instead! Always, it’s a joy to be connected with you…
Cuando Fluyan a la Mar…
I was privileged to be ordained at Iglesia del Pueblo Christian Church in Hammond, IN. In fact, IDP was the first Disciples of Christ church I joined. So it’s important to me, although I almost never attended in the first place. What happened was I, a relatively new DoC convert, was looking around the Chicago area for a DoC church to ordain me. I tried many places over multiple months, but nothing seemed ‘to fit.’ However, I needed to choose soon if I hoped to be ordained after graduation…
Then an attractive woman at my seminary told me she’d been checking out IDP, this Disciples church just over the state line from south Chicago, and it was really cool. They spoke Spanish and English, she said, and worshipped with a praise/gospel/salsa band, and I should go with her sometime. I must say, that sounded intriguing, but very intimidating. And I agreed to go mainly because 45 minutes in the car each direction was a long time to convince her to date me.
It worked, by the way. She’s now my wife! And what’s certainly less important, but still crucial, is I loved the church. Plus, they nurtured me down the final path to ordained ministry. But again, however neat the result in retrospect, I didn’t expect IDP ‘to fit.’ I figured I was a young white kid who speaks minimal Spanish. Thus, hoping a predominantly Latino congregation would partner with and love me enough to make me a reverend seemed farfetched. Until I walked in the door, and all assumptions I’d made about “Us v. Them” or “White v. Latino” disappeared, when John Cedeno vigorously greeted me, saying, “Thanks for coming! Tell me about yourself!” Great hospitality! I felt very welcome. And that helped me relax enough to learn that in the important things, IDP and I were one and the same. We both valued hospitality and passionate worship, above most everything else.
But similar though our values were, IDP worshiped differently than I’d experienced before. They were intentionally multicultural. This, as you might suspect, is quite tricky. Across the country, only 7% of American churches are what sociologists dub “multicultural” (meaning no one ethnic group tops 80%). Indeed, White, Black, Latino or Asian Pacific-Islander, most American Christians attend church with folk who look similar, and share similar tastes in music and expectations about worship culture (expectations like service length, music volume, impromptu v. scripted prayer, vocal interaction during sermons, clapping). That’s not news, surely, but the stats highlight how strange IDP was by blending English and Spanish, Black Gospel, Salsa, White Evangelical Praise, and Old European Hymns. However, what to some seemed strange, I learned was Glorious
In retrospect, I think one lesson from my IDP days sticks out most: Christians share vastly different cultures, languages, assumptions about ‘proper church behavior’ and even beliefs about Jesus, but all that’s less important than our shared desire to praise God. In whatever way we do best. My favorite IDP song remains a Spanish language Pentecostal tune called Como Las Aguas del Rio Roughly translated, the words are- “Like the waters of the river when they flow to the sea/so arrives the glory of the Lord into my heart”. I think glory-arriving is possible whether you’re shouting and dancing, or silently meditating to a Celtic version of "Be Thou My Vision".
But the point of multicultural worship isn’t simply to affirm ‘we have more in common than not.’ Nor is it, as some have suggested, rejecting your inherited culture as ‘boring’ or ‘dull’. I means using worship to affirm 1 Corinthians 13:12- “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” Experiencing worship from a variety of cultures, in multiple languages, is the same thing as seeing God through another’s eyes, and from vantages we’d never achieve on our own.
Or, if you will, knowing God more fully now, in anticipation of that ‘Great Gittin’ Up Morning’ when it’ll all be made plain.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Cuando Fluyan a la Mar…
I was privileged to be ordained at Iglesia del Pueblo Christian Church in Hammond, IN. In fact, IDP was the first Disciples of Christ church I joined. So it’s important to me, although I almost never attended in the first place. What happened was I, a relatively new DoC convert, was looking around the Chicago area for a DoC church to ordain me. I tried many places over multiple months, but nothing seemed ‘to fit.’ However, I needed to choose soon if I hoped to be ordained after graduation…
Then an attractive woman at my seminary told me she’d been checking out IDP, this Disciples church just over the state line from south Chicago, and it was really cool. They spoke Spanish and English, she said, and worshipped with a praise/gospel/salsa band, and I should go with her sometime. I must say, that sounded intriguing, but very intimidating. And I agreed to go mainly because 45 minutes in the car each direction was a long time to convince her to date me.
It worked, by the way. She’s now my wife! And what’s certainly less important, but still crucial, is I loved the church. Plus, they nurtured me down the final path to ordained ministry. But again, however neat the result in retrospect, I didn’t expect IDP ‘to fit.’ I figured I was a young white kid who speaks minimal Spanish. Thus, hoping a predominantly Latino congregation would partner with and love me enough to make me a reverend seemed farfetched. Until I walked in the door, and all assumptions I’d made about “Us v. Them” or “White v. Latino” disappeared, when John Cedeno vigorously greeted me, saying, “Thanks for coming! Tell me about yourself!” Great hospitality! I felt very welcome. And that helped me relax enough to learn that in the important things, IDP and I were one and the same. We both valued hospitality and passionate worship, above most everything else.
But similar though our values were, IDP worshiped differently than I’d experienced before. They were intentionally multicultural. This, as you might suspect, is quite tricky. Across the country, only 7% of American churches are what sociologists dub “multicultural” (meaning no one ethnic group tops 80%). Indeed, White, Black, Latino or Asian Pacific-Islander, most American Christians attend church with folk who look similar, and share similar tastes in music and expectations about worship culture (expectations like service length, music volume, impromptu v. scripted prayer, vocal interaction during sermons, clapping). That’s not news, surely, but the stats highlight how strange IDP was by blending English and Spanish, Black Gospel, Salsa, White Evangelical Praise, and Old European Hymns. However, what to some seemed strange, I learned was Glorious
In retrospect, I think one lesson from my IDP days sticks out most: Christians share vastly different cultures, languages, assumptions about ‘proper church behavior’ and even beliefs about Jesus, but all that’s less important than our shared desire to praise God. In whatever way we do best. My favorite IDP song remains a Spanish language Pentecostal tune called Como Las Aguas del Rio Roughly translated, the words are- “Like the waters of the river when they flow to the sea/so arrives the glory of the Lord into my heart”. I think glory-arriving is possible whether you’re shouting and dancing, or silently meditating to a Celtic version of "Be Thou My Vision".
But the point of multicultural worship isn’t simply to affirm ‘we have more in common than not.’ Nor is it, as some have suggested, rejecting your inherited culture as ‘boring’ or ‘dull’. I means using worship to affirm 1 Corinthians 13:12- “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” Experiencing worship from a variety of cultures, in multiple languages, is the same thing as seeing God through another’s eyes, and from vantages we’d never achieve on our own.
Or, if you will, knowing God more fully now, in anticipation of that ‘Great Gittin’ Up Morning’ when it’ll all be made plain.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
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