Thin Places…

There’s an ancient Celtic idea that’s become a fashionable topic as of late, and for good reason. The theory goes that the godly and manifest realms (Heaven and Earth), though seemingly separated by endless distance, are but arms lengths apart. And what’s more, there are spaces in this world- moments in time and places of unique power- where that distance grows closer. These are thin places; places where the boundaries of spirit and flesh diminish so as to glow translucent. Ancient Celts described Sunrise and Sunset as thin places. I’ve known thin places on Colorado Ski Mountains; in a boat at night off the coast of Grand Cayman; on my knees in prayer at the Abbey of Gethsemane, KY; singing spirituals with you after dinner this past Maundy Thursday. Thin places. Locations and moments of profound spiritual transition. As one poet wrote, “God shaped spaces. Holy.” Amen.

June was a month of thin places, if ever I’ve had one, an extended period of openness to the nearness of God’s transforming power of love. Most obvious, I got married, a spiritual transition like no other. This comes with a change in residence, behavior patterns, frequency of doing the laundry, which I mention so we remember that spiritual transition is about the mundane moments of life as much as the passionate and profound. And just weeks earlier, my then-fiancé graduated graduate school and got ordained. Thus, I am now a clergy spouse. Life keeps getting better.

Also, June marked two shifts in our church life together.

1) We welcomed a new group of Church Leadership. Our outgoing leaders, as you must know, served amazingly, and made my transition as a first-time solo pastor empowering, comfortable and fun. Thank you! This next group of leaders is also well poised for dynamic service. They have vision, passion, skill and creativity, for which I hope the church is both grateful and prepared! It should be another fantastic year at Plymouth Creek; I ask you do your best to ease their transition into formal leadership.

2) This newsletter is the last of my first year in ministry here. Next time I write for the Creeksider, I’ll no longer be a rookie. I had a boss who, almost weekly asked, “So, what have you learned recently?” It could get annoying, but was also a great habit to pick up. I’ll regale you during the next newsletter with my thoughts on “what I’ve learned from Plymouth Creek this year.” In the meantime, I encourage you to send me letters/emails/phone calls with your answer to that question. If I get enough responses, we’ll archive them on our new church website (thanks Kimberly!).

I think that’s a fitting way to acknowledge the transition from one year to the next, because times of spiritual transition, personally and corporately, truly are thin places. God comes near to guide God’s people as a new thing begins. And it’s impossible, I believe, to experience these thin places without learning something about who you or we are in the great Adventure of Creation. That doesn’t mean your entire world upends, but something changes. Our awareness of the possible expands. Because the manifest realm, if only for a breathe, merges into the godly and eternal. We learn something, and get prepared for something. After all, God doesn’t saturate thin places solely so we feel good. Thin places, God shaped spaces, are training grounds for mission; guideposts for those moments, as we serve a hurting and fragmented world, when life seems painful, and God feels distant, and we need a reminder of why we’re doing all this, or who did it well before us. That helps us go forward.

So take this month to reflect on the thin places you’ve encountered. Remember all the insights into God’s love that may have surprised you. Share them with me and others so that, come Fall, we’ll be prepared. Remember our goals for that season? To offer greater 1) Hospitality to families and 2) Outreach to the community. I think we’ll do these well, especially as we pay heed to the thin places we’ve met, and the transitions life brings. For the nearer God seems, the better oriented toward God’s best hopes for our future we’ll find ourselves. And that’s a great way to be. In all things,

Grace and Peace,

Rev. Shane Isner

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I do…

Guess what? If you’re reading this on Sunday morning, June 28th, then I’m married! Pretty cool, amen? I’d be with you this morning for worship, except for that diabolical marriage tradition- The Honeymoon. You’ve probably heard that we’re in Panama this week, at a resort called Sol Melia just outside of Colon, on the Atlantic end of that country’s famous Canal. Our room apparently snuggles up to the Panamanian rainforest, and the Sol Melia runs kayaking adventures into a large lake upon which it sits. They bill themselves as an “Eco Tourist Destination,” which, unsurprisingly, got me excited. Then there’s the Panama Canal, the Atlantic Coastal Beaches, and near the city is the world’s second-largest free trade zone. Which basically means that I’m looking for deals on flip flops and beach shorts. Our honeymoon will be as much adventure as it will be long-awaited rest..

But the important part is that when you see me next, I’ll have a silver ring on my left hand, a new last name and another resident in our one-bedroom apartment. Pray that we find a bigger place soon. I want to take a moment to thank all of you for your patience and encouragement over this past year. Walking into a new ministry situation, with a fiancé that lived seven hours away, was a nerve-wracking possibility. I wasn’t sure how people would respond to her dropping in and out of our midst, to my being gone during weekdays so that we could spend time together, to the change in pattern that will happen now that I am living with my new spouse. All those questions and more ran through my mind as I looked for a church last year, and they were topics I discussed with the Plymouth Creek Search Committee. Graciously, that team was enthusiastic for Tabitha and me, and fully supportive of us doing what was necessary to maintain a close and life-affirming relationship. And then, once I showed up last August, and we met, and you met Tabitha, all remaining anxiety vanished. Over these past months, you’ve continued to support us. You’ve paid her numerous compliments, and kept asking me, ‘how’s she doing’ and ‘how many days.’ I look forward to Plymouth Creek getting to know her better, because she’s so full of energy and insight and power and grace. A great partner in life, I believe, and a committed Christian woman.

You may be wondering, “Well, she’s ordained and graduated, so what’s her ministry going to be?” Good question; we’re still figuring that out! As of this writing, she doesn’t have a job. There are a few ‘coals in the fire,’ but the ship ain’t moving yet. We are certain of few things, though. For starters, although she’s Rev. Isner, she isn’t called to congregational ministry. Perhaps that will change over time. But for now, we think her policy and analytical skills are more valuable to God’s future in a non-church setting, and we’re excited to see what kind of ministry that will be, however atypical. She will be a congregation member, of course, whose first and best contribution to Plymouth Creek will be keeping me sane, balanced and focused! Pray for her. Other than that, who knows? With all that’s going on in our lives, the move, the new routines, it will be some time before she jumps in to help with this or that class or worship activity. That is not her typical modus operandi; she’s quite good at jumping into the deep end. But we both feel it’s best to establish ourselves as a family, and build relationships first and foremost, before taking on other commitments.

This makes this summer and fall very exciting. We are about to encounter this world and our neighbors as something new: a family. And the possibilities that brings are more than we can count. I believe it okay to speak for both of us- It is an immense comfort to know that another family, our church family, YOU, will be with us as this adventure begins. And we very much look forward to what good that will bring for God’s good world. In all things,

Grace and Peace,

Shane Isner

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The air I breathe…

I love hyperboles.  They’re the best things in existence.  But it isn’t hyperbole to suggest this month will be my most transforming ever.  I’ll be married on the 26th.  I will change my surname to Isner.  It is possible the Denver Nuggets (my childhood basketball heroes) will win the NBA Championship.  If that happens, Hell might freeze over.  Hold on tight; we’ve got an adventurous ride ahead!

And, of course, this will be my first MN summer, and our first together as pastor and church.  Some churches think summers are too slow.  Families spend weekends at lakeside cabins or on Carolina beaches.  Maybe you’ve planned a Mission Trip, and are committing some of time to help people in need.  If so, go with our blessing, and strong encouragement.  With all that happens during summer, we may miss one another occasionally.  I’ll be gone for three of June’s four Sundays.  On the seventh, I’m conducting a dear friend’s wedding in Idaho.  The next week, my almost-wife graduates and gets ordained.  June 21st (please mark your calendars), we will hold a congregational meeting to vote on next year’s budget and a new slate of congregational leaders.  And then, five days later, I get married in Chicago and go honeymooning in Panama (not a bad way to start the adventure of marriage!).  I will miss my Sunday mornings at our cozy corner on Vicksburg Lane, but we will stay connected, regardless of where the summer winds blow.  That’s part of the deep truth that Christian faith teaches.

Don’t, however, come to think that with all that going on, we’re taking the summer off as a church.  For starters, we’ve lined up some wonderful guest ministers to preach the Sundays I’m gone.  Because variety is the spice of life, I’m sure you’ll be richly nourished and moved by these diverse and creative voices.  There’s the Unbinding the Gospel process, which you will notice elsewhere in this Creeksider we’re undertaking with a different approach and renewed focus.  The Adopt-a-Room program that began last January is nearing completion, but there’s still work to do.  Please take some time this month to thank Donna Jarvi for her strong and consistent leadership in this regard, and while you’re at it, offer to help her finish strong by painting a room or cleaning a closet some Saturday in June.

      And, of course, we have an annual theme, “A Table Before Me: God’s Open-Armed Adventure,” which continues, and will take new form this summer.  Specifically, I want summer 2009 at Plymouth Creek to be a season of preparation.  Because come fall, a new adventure will begin: Community Outreach and Hospitality to Families.  That’s right, there’s a goal before us.  This adventure includes both stuff we’ve long cared about, as well as a shift in perspective that will focus our church mission in clearer, more life-giving ways.  As the summer unfolds, you will learn more about programming ideas that will occur this fall.  These will include reoccurring ‘community invite events’ (low-cost, family-oriented fun), deeper engagement with the places and people in our neighborhood in need of compassion and a community that cares, as well as a Fall Adventure in Mission that will be big, risky and maybe a bit uncomfortable.  But we will be bold in showing our neighborhood that their lives and families matter to us, and that we want to use our gifts to love our neighbors (and help them serve one another).

       Doing this well will take effort, and good effort, of course, requires careful preparation.  So you’ll hear me say more as the summer progresses, from the pulpit, in newsletters, during classes, when we gather for training events.  And I will look forward to the insights and leadership you will share, since Plymouth Creek works best when we’re all empowered to add our unique voices to a common effort.  To everything there is a season, Scripture claims, and summer is a great season to breathe deeply.  Or to spin it differently, a perfect chance to prepare.  For the adventure continues, and I’m overjoyed to share that with you.  In all things, 

Grace and Peace,

Shane

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A Story of Weakness…

Community, of course, is an ancient Christian practice. I wanted to tell you this week about a Christian community whose witness resides deep in my spiritual center, and offers a stunning example to our world about what’s possible if we all loved our neighbors as ourselves. If you were in church last week, you heard about these folk in my sermon. They’re called “L’Arche.” Their founder, Jean Vanier, published a small book about L’Arche called From Brokenness to Community that, when I first read it in 2002, changed what I believed about my religion.


L’Arche began in 1964 in southern France, when Jean Vanier (a priest and theologian, well known in his day within the church and the secular academy) and a friend invited two men to live in their apartment. These men previously resided in an institution for adults with mental disabilities, and when they first came to live with Vanier, life was difficult. New patterns needed establishing. The ‘disabled’ men required much physical and emotional care, particularly because their society had pushed them aside for so long. Vanier struggled initially, but knew their makeshift community was God’s call. Soon he learned, however, that although these men were assumed ‘broken’ by many in town, Vanier among them, he too had unacknowledged ‘brokenness’ in his life. Specifically, the great lengths he had taken to achieve fame in his scholarly profession and the respect of more ‘worthy’ individuals came at a great cost. He preached about Jesus, wrote of God’s love, and yet had been unwilling to ‘suffer’ the company of the so-called disabled, since they might get in the way of his ambitions. Indeed, ambition, he saw, was a doubled-edged sword that, when wielded for the sake of his ego, cut hard and deep, often to the detriment of others deemed less valuable in his culture’s eyes.

His life soon changed. He stayed in his community, and invited more to join. Soon, L’Arche began planting similar communes the world-over, numbering today 133 on five continents. But don’t let the numbers distract you; L’Arche prides itself on weakness. They testify, you could say, to a Christian truth enshrined in 2 Corinthians 12:9, when Paul heard God say, “My grace is sufficient for you, because my strength is made perfect in weakness.” Southern France, of course, isn’t the only place where weakness is shunned, and women and men with disabilities aren’t the only people looked over in our world for being, in the estimation of too many, ‘weak.’ Poor people, young people, elderly people, folk not ‘pretty enough’ or ‘sophisticated enough’- there’s enough spite around for the ranks of the disenfranchised to remain full for the foreseeable future. And yet, L’Arche and many others claim a different reality, that we’re all afflicted with brokenness, in some fashion. For some, that’s because powers beyond their control have contrived keep them poor and voiceless, and Christians of all stripes should act to counterbalance these injustices of our world. For others, our brokenness is often the result of a flawed self-understanding. We believe we’re capable enough, rich enough, beautiful enough to go it alone and conquer anything that stands in our way.

But what happens, L’Arche dares to ask, when our best efforts fail, or when our brokenness and weakness become too glaring to overlook any longer? Or even if that never happens to you, should Christians tolerate a culture where ‘weakness’ is a bad word, and where ‘the least of these’ are scorned? That’s when ‘community’ becomes so crucial, if you ask me, not only for others to assist us when life becomes difficult to manage, but also to provide support for living lives that buck the trends of society when its values conflict with Christ’s priorities. And if we’re being fair, I think many non-Christians in our neighborhoods are uncomfortable with scorn and disenfranchisement. I believe people long for communities of courage and wisdom, that dare to consider weakness a shared and precious resource, that speak boldly about ‘brokenness’ being transformed by new life. Because that’s what Jesus does, gather friends and disciples to heal our pain and sin, to act in solidarity with folk at society’s margins, to embody justice, compassion and holiness with deftness and grace. Or to put it succinctly, Jesus loves when we love ourselves, our neighbors and our God. With hopes that more and more we understand together that enigma of our faith, which Paul coined, “When I am weak, then I am strong,” I wish you,


Grace and Peace,

Shane Read more!

The Lord is risen indeed…!

What’s your favorite Easter memory? I have many, but let me share two with you. The first is from age six or so, when my family had traveled to Illinois for Easter with Grandma Ray. On Easter Eve, I slept upstairs, anxiously awaiting that elusive Bunny to visit with chocolate, colorful eggs and maybe a present. This year, however, I was determined to get more- I wanted to catch the Bunny at work. So I set a trap. I drew arrows on small pieces of paper, and arranged them in a trail that led to…well…the Bunny would have to follow to find out. At the trail’s end were treats and a note saying, “Help yourself.” But that wasn’t all. I’d balanced my grandma’s extra cane in such a way that when the Bunny bent over for the treats, s/he would inevitably knock the cane over, waking me up so I could bound down the stairs in triumph and catch a glimpse of the mythical beast. Of course, when I awoke Sunday morning, at the normal time, ‘the Bunny’ had replaced a few of the arrows in my trail with jelly beans or Easter eggs, and the cane was still perched in its pre-alarm state. And yet, the treats were gone, which surprises no one who knows my parents, or knew Grandma Ray.


My second favorite Easter memory is less silly, and more frequent. It happens in most churches (that I’ve attended) during service. Someone will stand at the lectern, quiet the congregation, and proclaim full-voiced, excitedly, “Alleluia, Christ is risen!” We respond, “The Lord is risen, indeed!” That’s a favorite because all the hope and joy, expectation and love I can muster as a Christian hangs on the power of that triumphant proclamation.

Some might say that means I overvalue Easter, but I don’t agree. I think Easter is the best day of the year; the most awe-inspiring memory we Christians pass on to our children and communities. Christ is risen! You might understand the impact of that differently than I, but I’m guessing you think it has something to with Jesus’ overcoming death, transcending human sin and frailty, God revealing that the basic framework of God’s love puts “New Life” as THE priority, for humans, for the environment, for all Creation. It’s not so much an argument that Christians make on Easter. It’s a shout. “THE LORD IS RISEN, INDEED!!!” I’m getting chills while typing, that’s how much I love Easter.

And here’s the best part- You don’t have to shout by yourself. Easter invites us to celebrate Christ’s resurrection into new life in a new Body, together. Why? Because that powerful memory of the risen Christ that we pass on (should) demonstrates itself best in Christian community, in the redemption of the whole Body of Christ, especially our ever-increasing ability to be and share God’s Good News to our neighbors. In other words, Easter asks Christian communities to embody the resurrection.

Tall task, amen? But again, you don’t do it alone. And you don’t do it just once a year. We’ve been practicing this for some time now, which is why this Easter feels particularly exciting. For one, it’ll be my first with Plymouth Creek. But more than that, the Unbinding the Gospel process will have begun. To jog your memory, this is a process of training and empowering one another to grow in prayer and share our faith with our neighbors. Or, if you prefer, it’s a process to help us proclaim, “The Lord is risen, indeed!” with stronger confidence, deeper awe and humility, and greater hope that our proclaiming might bring divine love to folk we care about. How will we best be able to make this proclamation, with what words, or what deeds of compassion and justice? I don’t know, but I’m excited to find out! Because I know that this embodying the resurrection, this life of being the risen Christ to one another and those most vulnerable in our midst, this respect for community and its new-life-giving properties, it’s all something you’ve practiced for years. And it’s worth shouting about. “The Lord is risen, indeed! Right here, on this cozy street corner! In our very midst!” Don’t be surprised if you see some arrows pointing the way. In all things,

Grace and Peace,

Shane.

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What’s In a Name…

On June 26th, I plan to have a pretty decent day. I’ll be in Chicago with family and friends, and in my dreams, the day is warm, but not humid. That evening, as you may know, I will walk down a church aisle wearing a linen suit, and promise myself in marriage to a woman I’ve come to love and respect very much in the past three years. At the end of the worship service, we will walk through a community of our guests, no longer as two persons pursuing separate vocations, but as a new family, formed by promises and a shared understanding of God’s call on our lives. Which means, in some sense, we will be transformed. Not entirely, of course, but enough that we’ll both accept new expectations and responsibilities, will check something different on our 2009 tax returns (oh, the romance) and, of course, we’ll take on new identities. Husband and wife. Partner and spouse. Mr. and Mrs. … Isner.

Whoa! That last part may have been unexpected, so let me explain. Or perhaps I should quote a Servant Leader’s response when I informed them of this decision last time we met. "You're marrying each other, and you're marrying your names. That's cool." We couldn't agree more.

If you didn’t know, Tabitha’s last name is Knerr, mine is Isaac; do the math Is + ner and you get Isner. This decision is something we’ve spent months thinking about, praying about and discussing together. We’ve talked with our families, and our friends. I brought it up with the Servant Leaders, and told the Board. Now I’m writing this letter, because I know that two people combining their last names doesn’t happen every wedding. And since, at the very least, we’ll be changing the bulletin’s spelling of my name, I want to share our thoughts with you before it happened.

Basically, the question “What to do about our surname…” is something many couples ponder nowadays. Do we do what's traditional, and Tabitha takes Shane's name? Or what about Shane taking Tabitha's name? Are we comfortable with that? Does it reflect to us and our community the kind of mutual partnership we hope to create? Some of our loved ones answer those questions, 'yes,' and it brings them a real sense of meaning and joy. But we could not. Both of us felt attached enough to our surnames, the lives and families they represent, that the thought of entirely removing them from our lives didn't sit well. So another solution was needed.

What about the hyphenated name? Doesn't that make it clear that your marriage joins two lives and two families in equal measure? Again, some friends have said, "absolutely," and proudly make that dash on every check they now write. But we could not. We worried our children might then have to make a decision about which name to keep or which to drop when s/he also gets married. Just think, we could have been the Truscott-Perine-Welge-Bell-Miller-Brooks-Knerr-Isaac family!

Why not just keep both your names? You'd still be married, whether or not you shared a last initial, right? We know folk who've done this, and it feels wonderful for them. But we just really wanted the same last name, something common for the whole family.

That's when we thought, "Why not join our names?" And we liked it. It felt like a way to honor where we came from and who we’ve been, while also reflecting the full union and mutual partnership that will be our marriage. We know that’s not everyone’s choice or preference, but it fills us with joy about the new family we’re creating out of the two beloved families from which we’ve come.

We hope that explains somewhat the quirky decision we’ve made. When I told Dad, after some discussion he said, “Well, does that mean we get free tickets to Disney World (referencing, of course, the former CEO of Disney, Michael Eisner)?” Alas, we don’t think so. But we appreciated his and Mom’s support. It’s going to be an adjustment, of course, for all of us. I’ll still call myself Rev. Isaac every now and then on accident, so thanks in advance for your patience and support. Ultimately, we hope it reflects what marriage has always done- God transforming, through love and promises, two lives into one new life, a new family, for the sake of better loving the world. May that be true of your families as I pray it will be of mine. In all things,

Grace and Peace,

Shane.

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Open-Armed Adventures…

I’m of conflicted mind and heart when churches take votes. On the one hand, my idealistic inner child wants us all to just get along, you know, to decide through consensus and commonly articulated vision. That’s not because people who vote opposite one another automatically become enemies (I’ve eaten dinner with Democrats, and Republicans, at the same time!). We can disagree about what’s best for the church’s future and, most of the time, get along. Still, I worry that vote taking in churches sometimes devolves into “whomever speaks first or loudest wins,” making the vision cast by the vote not a shared vision. That hints at hierarchy and systems of dominance, and makes me nervous.

On the other hand, as an American preacher, I’ve long nurtured a respect for democracy. Every time I vote in civil elections, I light up with happiness, even when my gal/guy loses. Because the opportunity to weigh in on this country’s direction is a cherished responsibility/freedom. Same thing happens for church votes; it feels like a chance for all members to share in discerning God’s call. Therefore, I rarely think anyone votes ‘no’ to an issue at hand. Rather, I find most often that person is voting ‘yes’ for an alternative vision of the church-they-love’s future.

On another other hand, church votes remind me of what I love best about my denomination. And what makes being a Disciple of Christ tough. Some of y’all might remember when the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) officially became a denomination in 1967, with the approval of a ‘church constitution,’ The Design. Sure, our movement began in the early 19th century, but formal incorporation came later. In my opinion, what’s inspiring/scary about The Design is that it bets the farm, the bank, and our very future as an entity on one crucial claim: church happens when the people make it so.

Notice I didn’t write, “when pastors preach,” or “when some of the people make it so.” At the root of our denominational structure is the bold idea that we need each other, everyone, for this adventure to work. In church-speak, the term is ‘maximal lay involvement.’ In Christianese, it means that if church isn’t working for ‘the least of these,’ it isn’t working like it needs to. In plain English, I’m saying that without everyone’s contribution, this boat doesn’t sail right.

Take the basic Disciple of Christ claim of respect for individual freedom, and each person’s right to interpret the Bible as s/he feels led. What makes that Christian is that it reflects Paul’s profound conclusion in Galatians 5:1- “For freedom Christ has set us free.” What makes that Church is it asserts we all participate, that we share the insights, conclusions and dreams God puts on our hearts. Otherwise, we’d all think to ourselves whatever we want, never challenging one another or holding ourselves accountable to our neighbors’ experience of God’s love. And that would not be community.

Which brings me back to church votes, more particularly last Sunday’s vote. Thank you for doing that, by the way, regardless what you voted for. The vote reminded me again, that church happens when people make it so. You each, in your own way, weighed in on what this church means, and staked a claim in working for its future. If you weren’t here, please know that your fellow members took seriously the direction of the church you hold dear, and committed to welcoming your participation in our common work this next year. In both form and substance, the vote expressed the best of what Disciples, especially Plymouth Creek, do together. It affirmed that this ministry is our ministry. Thus, we covenanted to a process of spiritual growth that needs everyone’s voice, especially if you’re nervous, uncertain or downright skeptical about this process (please let me know). In words from our 2009 theme, the vote added new shape to God’s open-armed adventure with us. It articulated a call to stretch our arms wider to one another and our communities. Since any opening of arms in love is surely a faithful act, about that love I have no conflict of mind, and it puts my heart at peace. In all things,


Grace and Peace,
Shane. Read more!