Taking a load off…

Growing up in Colorado, I slightly resented that “Paradise,” to the mind of many, required sun and beaches. You see, for this mountain dweller, I could never believe that the best place in the world (i.e. Paradise) had no skiing. It just made no sense. When asked to picture Heaven, I imagined greeting St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, saying, “Thanks for your hospitality,” and then immediately proceeding to the Heavenly Rental Shop to get some good ski boots. In other words, Paradise for me was an active place, with two feet of fresh snow, burning leg muscles and short lines at the chair lift. I know that many others would conceive of something very different, but that’s alright. It means fewer crowds in our respective Paradises!

So what do you picture when you picture Paradise? Or to ask that question a little differently, what, better than anything else, would help you achieve Rest? I’m sure you’ve guessed where this question comes from- my having just returned from a honeymoon in Panama. To provide basic answers; Yes, we had a wonderful time; Yes, we went to the beach, twice, and although it wasn’t sunny the entire week (it’s currently ‘winter’ in Panama, if you can call it that…), it was lovely nevertheless; alas, No, I didn’t go skiing. But it was a great vacation all the same. And I am rested, rejuvenated and ready to rejoin Minnesota life. With a new wife and new last name. Awesome.

And all that travel and newness suggested something about ‘Rest’ that I hadn’t considered during my ski rabbit childhood- It may be as much about who you’re with than where you’re at or what you’re doing. I won’t push that too far, since again we all find ‘Rest’ differently. Still, it’s worth pondering the thought that lounging at the beach may feel lonely to some, while skydiving with your best friend from childhood may be the epitome of calm for others (not me, but hey, it’s possible). Rest is a funny thing that way. You can’t predict it for everyone you meet, but you know it when you see it.

It’s also something many people find elusive, myself among them. I did something these past two weeks that I haven’t done in years: for that entire time, I did not send one email. Some of you may think, “Eh, not a big deal,” but for me, that’s quite an accomplishment. Sure, it had something to do with my not being in the country for seven of those days, but it was more than that. This behavior was intentional. I wanted to not do things associated with planning, or with work, or with…, and just sit back with my new wife and rest! I knew that email and computers would pull my attention away, so we left that stuff at home. It wasn’t easy. It took some external prompting and support. But it was nice. I feel rested. For others, it’s not computers or email that keeps them from resting, it’s their planner, or the phone, or letters they still need to write, or housework left undone, or… you name it. Like I said, many of us have a tough time letting go and taking a load off. I get it.

Remember that odd passage at the end of Matthew 11, where Jesus says, “Come to me, all who are weary…and I will give you rest…for my yoke is easy, and my burden is light”? That passage always confused me; burden and light just don’t seem to go together. But this honeymoon insight about ‘rest and the company you keep’ makes me reconsider Jesus’ words. Perhaps it’s not what we do as Jesus’ disciples that makes for Rest and light burdens; it’s the people we do it with. Or the nearness of God as we do it. Hence, we cultivate an active prayer life, and stay connected to church community.

So let me ask the question again, but change it ever so slightly: Who, better than anyone else, helps you achieve Rest? May you reconnect with that person soon. In all things,

Grace and Peace,

Shane

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We Shall Be Free…

My Fourth of July plans this year will be different than usual. No backyard barbeques. No fireworks and sparklers. I intend to sing a patriotic song or two, but under my breath, so as not to disturb the other passengers. You see, I’ll be flying back into the country this July Fourth (or to be more precise, since this letter won’t be printed until the Fifth- I’ll have flown…), having just completed what I’m sure will be an incredible honeymoon in Panama, as many of you already know.

What an adventure! And I’m speaking about the trip, the experience of celebrating American Independence abroad, and, oh yeah, my marriage. If you take the stereotypes of men and marriage to be valid, then there’s a considerable irony that my Independence Day 2009 happens eight days after ‘putting on the ball and chain.’ I do not, however, think those stereotypes are either true or respectful. Our church, on Sunday afternoon July 5th, will host a surprise fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration for Kimberly’s parents (I’m sorry I can’t make it; my new wife and I will be driving home. But many congratulations!). Their longevity testifies to a different understanding of the possibilities of marriage..

Family details aside for the moment, I’m feeling more drawn to this upcoming Independence Day than usual. As I write this letter, I’m frequently checking internet sites for continued updates about the protests in Iran. From what I’m seeing and reading, there’s been unfathomable chaos throughout that country, conflict between people with very different visions of what their future together should be. My heart is heavy. I’ve seen images that make me shiver, and watched grainy video footage that made me weep. I’m very aware that, when you do read this letter, those circumstances could be very different than they are today. I pray they become more peaceful, less violent and repressive. But in the midst of this moment, the stories of that people’s struggles create new and poignant images for my understanding of Independence Day, and of our country’s revolutionary events. From what I’ve read, the earliest Americans, during those momentous days, were never quite sure where their sacrificial efforts would lead. But they took to the streets anyway.

All this has made me reflect again about ‘freedom,’ a word that for Americans has deep meaning. As a minister of the Gospel, I understand ‘freedom’ as related to, but still distinct from civil society and government. I find my ultimate guide in Galatians 5:1, “For freedom Christ has set us free.” That sentiment weaves its way through Paul’s letters, and shows up in different forms throughout the New Testament. Take from it what you will, but for me it’s a claim that ‘freedom’ is the gift given to all God’s beloved children, paid for and secured, for Christians at least, in the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus. Thus, it is God’s power and creative love for each of us that make ultimate freedom possible. The snares of death and sin and anxiety can’t prevail, for the Creator of all that is breaks their chains on us and our neighbors, and showed us another way. We can experience that now, with God’s help. We will know that in full, as Paul puts it, on that great getting up morning. And, again to quote Paul, “I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers…nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” That is Christian freedom. Amen.

I’m reminded of the powerful witness of African-American slave tunes, that many Christians still sing. “Nobody knows, the trouble I’ve seen.” “I gotta shoes, you gotta shoes, all God’s children gotts shoes.” “The Jordan River is chilly and cold. God’s a gonna trouble the waters. It chills my body but not my soul…Wade in the water.” The freedom I hear in this powerful music, untouched by the lashes their composers endured, challenges the core of my soul to always seek a faith that is bigger than today’s version. It calls me to celebrate and accept freedom every day, not just Independence Day. By this, I in no way want to diminish the sacrifices made for earthly freedom that many, the world over, made and are still making. Their testimony fills me with gratitude and respect. But my most secure hope is that God is greater than all violence and oppression, this God whose love that makes life happen. And that love can liberate even the most desperate of circumstances. Psalm 65 says, “Let the peoples praise you, O God. Let all the people praise you.” In all things,

Grace and Peace,

Shane.

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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,

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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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