Sorry to scare you, but I’ve been getting in the Halloween mood. Yes, I have a costume. Or more specifically, a wig. You just may see it again in Halloweens to come. As an environmentalist, I think it’s my duty to purchase a sustainable costume that I can return to. And it’s really a good wig!
Y’all might remember that I attended a Dutch Reformed High School. They had a particular way of celebrating Halloween, and by ‘they,’ I mean the Bible Teacher, Mr. Zylstra. Kids would come to school dressed up, and Mr. Z would excitedly walk the halls, saying, “Happy Reformation Day!” Freshmen would always ask, “What’s he talking about? It’s Halloween.” Seniors would respond, “Mr. Z’s a church history nut.” And the festivities would continue.
Apparently, Mr. Z’s plan worked. To this day, I can’t think about Halloween without saying, somewhere deep within, “Happy Reformation Day! ” So I wanted you to share that joy with me.
Here’s the story of “Reformation Day.” Martin Luther was a 16th century German monk, Biblical Scholar and really intense guy. Really, really intense guy, whose deep spirituality led him to frequent questioning of the religion he practiced, as well as acts of self-mortification. It’s said that once he sat in an ice-cold river for thirty minutes, naked, to punish himself for sinful thoughts and tendencies. Really intense guy. But Martin Luther was deeply committed to his faith. And the more he compared his expanding Biblical understanding with the workings of his church’s bureaucracy, Luther got concerned.
He lived in a northeastern German town named Wittenberg. One day, a man, Johann Tetzel, showed up raising funds for the Papacy’s newest project- the construction of St. Peter’s Basilica. His efforts were in keeping with Church doctrine at the time, which claimed that faith was not sufficient to merit God’s forgiveness (and entrance into paradise), but that good living and faithful support of the Church were also required. One way of achieving the latter was through donations, and marketers like Tetzel would solicit these donations under the term ‘indulgence.’ So if a person bought indulgences, they would help secure God’s favor. But Martin Luther didn’t like this, on social and theological grounds. He questioned the wealthy Pope’s soliciting money from poor people for a project he could fund personally. And besides, the way Luther had come to understand Scripture, it seemed that God, mysteriously, did not require goodness on our part to redeem humanity. God had already done the work and invited us into intimate fellowship through Jesus’ life and death. All we needed was to muster the faith to say, “Yes, Lord. I’ll follow you.”
So Luther composed a list of questions, the famed 95 theses, which laid out his complaints. On October 31st, 1517, he nailed that list to the door of Wittenberg’s Cathedral. This occurred during a time of revolutionary change in communication technology- the printing press had been invented- so within weeks, pamphlets of Luther’s questions saturated Europe. The effect was that people from all over came to share Luther’s concerns about the Church, and the Reformation Movement began, which continues still. Hence, Reformation Day.
To be fair, there’s a LOT more to that story that deserves careful nuance and consideration (i.e. say, “No” to Catholic bashing), but the broad outlines are worth pondering this Halloween. We’re in the midst of revolutionary technological change, and so, like people in Luther’s day, we have remarkable means to communicate bold ideas and form world-changing relationships with diverse people. As in Luther’s day, many fear the disorienting effect these changes will bring. But the deep lesson of Reformation Day, I believe, is that God remains faithful to people who put faith in God, and God will guide God’s people into creative new ways of loving ourselves and our neighbors if we muster the courage of faith to say, “Yes, Lord. I will follow.” So Happy Reformation Day! May you find renewed faith to follow our Lord Jesus, and step boldly into an unknown future secure that the Hand which fashioned this world still holds you closer then you could possibly imagine. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, October 30, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
You, you got what I need…
My mother recently reminded me of a childhood experience that I figured you’d appreciate. When I was in sixth grade, I had a rough go of things. Academically, everything was fine (well, except handwriting, which has remained at first grade levels). But otherwise, my school just wasn’t working out. And the prospect of continuing in that school system loomed darkly. Many children in America, of course, expect only bad things their local schools. Too many. But one of the privileges of my life was that my family had the option of enrolling me somewhere new, which they did. It was a God-send. I’d wanted out, and was grateful that Mom and Dad fulfilled that desire.
Fast forward five years, and I’d encountered more turmoil at school. So I wanted out again, and found a program that would let me skip my last year of high school, and get a head start on college. This time, Mom and Dad said, “No.” They didn’t do what I wanted. They said that I needed to stick around, and finish what I’d started. I wasn’t happy at the time. But in retrospect, it was the right decision. The program was expensive. I needed to learn important lessons by staying the course. Fortunately, Mom and Dad understood that what the family needed and what I needed outweighed what I wanted, this time around.
I think God works like that; God looks at people and communities and assesses what our needs are versus our wants. Where those conflict, count on God to implore that we sacrifice our wants for our and our neighbors’ needs. Where those match up, you’ve found what religious sages call, “Vocation.” You might imagine this process of ‘matching up’ wants with needs is entirely natural, no spiritual input needed; a matter of personal introspection coupled with clear-eyed evaluation of the world around you. But religious truth suggests there’s more involved- namely, God’s evaluation and God’s ‘call.’ We religious folk contend that God puts in God’s two cents about which wants and needs are appropriate or complimentary, and that God’s two cents are more valuable than ours. For God sees to the heart of things better than we ever could. So we’d do ourselves well to continually discern what God sees, to listen for what God’s ‘calling’ us to hear, and put those divine suggestions into practice.
What’s true for individuals, in this case, is also true for groups. All groups (families, churches, neighborhoods) have wants and needs, including the need to set priorities or seek creative solutions. Sometimes, we do this very well. Other times, we neglect needs because we’re too concerned with fulfilling our wants. Usually, it’s a mix of both. So regularly evaluating where we’re at, in terms of hearing God’s ideas about our community’s wants and needs, just makes good sense.
The Church Board believes this, and wants all Plymouth Creekers to help out. I asked them a question recently, which I’d been asked by a leader in our denomination, and that I found myself greatly excited to answer. That question was, “Why does your church need to exist?” Provocative, eh? So the Board discussed this, discovered some great insights, and decided we wanted everyone’s input. Thus, last Sunday, and again this Sunday, we’re asking worshippers to write down their best answers to this question, and place them in the Offering Plate (or email me!). You could describe how your needs are met, or how you meet others needs through church, or needs in our community that PCCC uniquely fills. Whatever you see, whatever ‘call’ you’ve discerned, let us know. We’ve persisted thirty years now and counting, i.e. God sees needs we help meet. And the Board wants to hear everyone’s impressions about what those are. In fact, if we’re going to do a good job leading our church forward, we need to hear those impressions. For God doesn’t just call out to one person or another in a church. God is still speaking to all of us. Hopefully, in this way and many more, we can share with each other what we’re hearing. Plymouth needs it.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Fast forward five years, and I’d encountered more turmoil at school. So I wanted out again, and found a program that would let me skip my last year of high school, and get a head start on college. This time, Mom and Dad said, “No.” They didn’t do what I wanted. They said that I needed to stick around, and finish what I’d started. I wasn’t happy at the time. But in retrospect, it was the right decision. The program was expensive. I needed to learn important lessons by staying the course. Fortunately, Mom and Dad understood that what the family needed and what I needed outweighed what I wanted, this time around.
I think God works like that; God looks at people and communities and assesses what our needs are versus our wants. Where those conflict, count on God to implore that we sacrifice our wants for our and our neighbors’ needs. Where those match up, you’ve found what religious sages call, “Vocation.” You might imagine this process of ‘matching up’ wants with needs is entirely natural, no spiritual input needed; a matter of personal introspection coupled with clear-eyed evaluation of the world around you. But religious truth suggests there’s more involved- namely, God’s evaluation and God’s ‘call.’ We religious folk contend that God puts in God’s two cents about which wants and needs are appropriate or complimentary, and that God’s two cents are more valuable than ours. For God sees to the heart of things better than we ever could. So we’d do ourselves well to continually discern what God sees, to listen for what God’s ‘calling’ us to hear, and put those divine suggestions into practice.
What’s true for individuals, in this case, is also true for groups. All groups (families, churches, neighborhoods) have wants and needs, including the need to set priorities or seek creative solutions. Sometimes, we do this very well. Other times, we neglect needs because we’re too concerned with fulfilling our wants. Usually, it’s a mix of both. So regularly evaluating where we’re at, in terms of hearing God’s ideas about our community’s wants and needs, just makes good sense.
The Church Board believes this, and wants all Plymouth Creekers to help out. I asked them a question recently, which I’d been asked by a leader in our denomination, and that I found myself greatly excited to answer. That question was, “Why does your church need to exist?” Provocative, eh? So the Board discussed this, discovered some great insights, and decided we wanted everyone’s input. Thus, last Sunday, and again this Sunday, we’re asking worshippers to write down their best answers to this question, and place them in the Offering Plate (or email me!). You could describe how your needs are met, or how you meet others needs through church, or needs in our community that PCCC uniquely fills. Whatever you see, whatever ‘call’ you’ve discerned, let us know. We’ve persisted thirty years now and counting, i.e. God sees needs we help meet. And the Board wants to hear everyone’s impressions about what those are. In fact, if we’re going to do a good job leading our church forward, we need to hear those impressions. For God doesn’t just call out to one person or another in a church. God is still speaking to all of us. Hopefully, in this way and many more, we can share with each other what we’re hearing. Plymouth needs it.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Friday, October 16, 2009
This I Believe…
If you read the newsletter closely, you know we’re encouraging folk to join a congregation-wide project. We want everyone to write 350-500 words about why Christian faith matters to them.
It’s fashioned after the recent NPR series “This I Believe,” which in turn borrowed the idea from 1950’s Newsman Extraordinaire, Edward R. Murrow. The reason for this project is simple- sharing what you believe is HARD. We learned from reading Unbinding the Gospel that the biggest barrier folk have to sharing faith is finding what to say in the first place. Faith feels too close and personal to put into words. So we’re challenging ourselves to overcome that barrier, using “This I Believe” as a template.
The rules are easy: 1) Write350-500 words about what you believe, 2) Make it a story- not a sermon or list of beliefs, 3) Don’t try to say everything; pick one thing personal and specific. We hope to feature these weekly and anonymously (so don’t be nervous!!). And we pray this practice encourages more faith sharing, fosters greater intimacy in the church family, and helps us, by looking through each other’s eyes, know God better. Our first offering was in last week’s bulletin (Thanks!), and this week’s cWeeksider. But since I’m asking, I felt pressure to add my own:
I believe in mystery. I believe mystery resides deep in the heart of Christian faith. Or at least deep in my heart. It took awhile in my life of faith to make mystery a priority. I guess I once hoped that God could be fully understood, or proven, or held completely in mind. But then I met Dr. Wedell.
Dr. Wedell taught a class my senior year of college called, “The Idea of God.” Our major class assignment was to write thirty pages about what we, individually, believed about God. I’d grown up involved in church, so I thought my ideas of God were pretty well fixed and secure. But when I turned in the first ten pages, they returned covered in red ink. “Have you considered this…,” Dr. Wedell wrote. “I’m not sure that fits with the other thing you wrote.” And so on. It was a massacre. I began again.
Three days before the final paper was due, I walked into Dr. Wedell’s office panicking. We talked through my confused thoughts; I’d become aware, by now, that much of what I once considered certain and sacred now seemed wholly unbelievable. After fifteen minutes, tears began flowing. I cried, shaking with drama and angst, “I have nothing to say about God! I still believe, but have no clue any more who God is.” Dr. Wedell, rather than snidely write me off as a troubled young man, paused thoughtfully. Then he said, “Shane, I wonder if that’s what St. Paul meant when he wrote, ‘We are saved by faith alone.’ Maybe just knowing you have faith is enough.”
Those words suddenly became my words. My prayer. “God, I’m certain you’re out there. I think. Let my silent faith be enough.” Somehow, it seemed, that was enough. It was alright. Maybe it was preferable that I couldn’t prove or fully justify my faith. Faith still anchored me in some deep place. Mysteriously, faith remained my center.
Since then, I’ve learned new words to describe God. They seem adequate, for now. But that respect for the power of mystery in understanding God, which I learned in Dr. Wedell’s office, that remains central. Now I crave experiences when words don’t even pretend to capture everything. When prayer flows with little to no forethought, and becomes quickly overcome by something I can only describe as Spirit. As I’ve reflected more on Dr. Wedell’s Office, it seems like something happened similar to what ancient sages called ‘humility.’ Or ‘the fear of the LORD.’ Something. I’m still learning. But I no longer think one day I’ll finally ‘get it,’ discover the skeleton key. After all, it seems God has touched people all over the world for all time in all sorts of ways. How? That’s the ultimate mystery. I pray for the humility to respect that. Or rather, to celebrate that unbelievably-believable mystery.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
It’s fashioned after the recent NPR series “This I Believe,” which in turn borrowed the idea from 1950’s Newsman Extraordinaire, Edward R. Murrow. The reason for this project is simple- sharing what you believe is HARD. We learned from reading Unbinding the Gospel that the biggest barrier folk have to sharing faith is finding what to say in the first place. Faith feels too close and personal to put into words. So we’re challenging ourselves to overcome that barrier, using “This I Believe” as a template.
The rules are easy: 1) Write350-500 words about what you believe, 2) Make it a story- not a sermon or list of beliefs, 3) Don’t try to say everything; pick one thing personal and specific. We hope to feature these weekly and anonymously (so don’t be nervous!!). And we pray this practice encourages more faith sharing, fosters greater intimacy in the church family, and helps us, by looking through each other’s eyes, know God better. Our first offering was in last week’s bulletin (Thanks!), and this week’s cWeeksider. But since I’m asking, I felt pressure to add my own:
I believe in mystery. I believe mystery resides deep in the heart of Christian faith. Or at least deep in my heart. It took awhile in my life of faith to make mystery a priority. I guess I once hoped that God could be fully understood, or proven, or held completely in mind. But then I met Dr. Wedell.
Dr. Wedell taught a class my senior year of college called, “The Idea of God.” Our major class assignment was to write thirty pages about what we, individually, believed about God. I’d grown up involved in church, so I thought my ideas of God were pretty well fixed and secure. But when I turned in the first ten pages, they returned covered in red ink. “Have you considered this…,” Dr. Wedell wrote. “I’m not sure that fits with the other thing you wrote.” And so on. It was a massacre. I began again.
Three days before the final paper was due, I walked into Dr. Wedell’s office panicking. We talked through my confused thoughts; I’d become aware, by now, that much of what I once considered certain and sacred now seemed wholly unbelievable. After fifteen minutes, tears began flowing. I cried, shaking with drama and angst, “I have nothing to say about God! I still believe, but have no clue any more who God is.” Dr. Wedell, rather than snidely write me off as a troubled young man, paused thoughtfully. Then he said, “Shane, I wonder if that’s what St. Paul meant when he wrote, ‘We are saved by faith alone.’ Maybe just knowing you have faith is enough.”
Those words suddenly became my words. My prayer. “God, I’m certain you’re out there. I think. Let my silent faith be enough.” Somehow, it seemed, that was enough. It was alright. Maybe it was preferable that I couldn’t prove or fully justify my faith. Faith still anchored me in some deep place. Mysteriously, faith remained my center.
Since then, I’ve learned new words to describe God. They seem adequate, for now. But that respect for the power of mystery in understanding God, which I learned in Dr. Wedell’s office, that remains central. Now I crave experiences when words don’t even pretend to capture everything. When prayer flows with little to no forethought, and becomes quickly overcome by something I can only describe as Spirit. As I’ve reflected more on Dr. Wedell’s Office, it seems like something happened similar to what ancient sages called ‘humility.’ Or ‘the fear of the LORD.’ Something. I’m still learning. But I no longer think one day I’ll finally ‘get it,’ discover the skeleton key. After all, it seems God has touched people all over the world for all time in all sorts of ways. How? That’s the ultimate mystery. I pray for the humility to respect that. Or rather, to celebrate that unbelievably-believable mystery.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Friday, October 9, 2009
Be Something You Love…
Remember the 1994 movie Forrest Gump? Great movie (and great soundtrack!). I love how it turns one simple man’s story into an epic adventure. Call it an uninhibited celebration of ordinary life. If you haven’t seen it, rent it. We can watch it together!
The main character, Forrest, though he grew up with leg braces, is quite the runner. He played football at Alabama University because of his speed. He used his running talent to save people in Vietnam. And one day, near the movie’s end, he bumps into the woman he’s loved since childhood, Jenny (pronounced J-eh-eh-knee). Long story short, she breaks his heart. Simple man that he is, Forrest takes a run. And he runs. And he runs.
And he runs.
And back.
And he keeps running.
He doesn’t stop for “three years, two months, fourteen days and sixteen hours.” During that time, he unintentionally inspires a HUGE following. It begins with one guy thinking this running-across-America thing is quite groovy. More join in, and more still; all following Forrest, mile after mile. Until, in the middle of what looks like New Mexico, Forrest stops running. “I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll go home now,” he says, as he walks through his followers, parting down the center like the Red Sea. Someone yells, “Now what’re we supposed to do?” Forrest says nothing. He just goes home.
It’s funny what inspires us, amen? I once heard a guy interviewed who grew up loving electronics. For some unknown reason, he decided to learn all about pay phones, eventually figuring out how to make long distance calls on them for free. So he called…the Pope, pretending to be Harry Kissinger. The Pontiff’s personal assistant figured out the ruse after thirty minutes, but the guy wasn’t deterred. Steve Jobs co-founded Apple Computers, and makes a decent living. All because, randomly, he was inspired by electronics.
Inspiration has made its way into recent sermons and letters; maybe you’ve noticed. It’s been on my mind, and that’s because I think Christian living should be inspired living- living with purpose and mission. What that looks like for each of us isn’t always clear, especially when life goes through changes. But I don’t think we should ever give up searching for that little something that inspires us.
Unlike the runners of Forrest Gump, though, Christian inspiration has a distinct purpose. Jesus described it in Matthew 23:37-40, “Love the LORD your God…and love your neighbor as yourself.” But Jesus isn’t Forrest, running away from the past to put the pain behind him. Jesus leads us toward something- namely, the Reign of God, where unconditional, overwhelming love rule the day every day. As his followers, we run after him toward this glorious Reign, both receiving divine love in fuller measure every step, and sharing it with everyone we pass, inviting them to join in.
Every year, running inspires Plymouth Creekers to follow Jesus and love our neighbors. Walking actually, but close enough. I mean the annual CROP Walk, of course, or what I often call the Plymouth Creek Victory Celebration (since we’re always the top fundraiser!). I’m not exactly sure why CROP Walk, which fights hunger from our doorsteps to the ends of the earth, inspires us so much, but it does. Other things inspire us to pursue God’s Reign too, of course, but the CROP Walk’s worth mentioning because it’s this Sunday, October 11, when, as in years past, we’ll walk/jog/run after our Lord on a mission. If you’re walking, thanks for getting inspired. If you’re not, thanks for your support. Walking may be simple stuff, but that’s how the Reign of God happens- God’s overwhelming love inspires ordinary life. May this walk help you live inspired. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane
PS- If you still want to support our walking, go to the Church World Service Web Site. Click “Find Your Walk”, look for the MN NW Suburbs walk and click donate (or just follow this link). Search for team “Plymouth Creek.” And viola!
PPS- If you have family/friends who might want to help, pass along this letter. Thanks to all! Read more!
The main character, Forrest, though he grew up with leg braces, is quite the runner. He played football at Alabama University because of his speed. He used his running talent to save people in Vietnam. And one day, near the movie’s end, he bumps into the woman he’s loved since childhood, Jenny (pronounced J-eh-eh-knee). Long story short, she breaks his heart. Simple man that he is, Forrest takes a run. And he runs. And he runs.
And he runs.
All across the country.
And back.
And back again.
And he keeps running.
He doesn’t stop for “three years, two months, fourteen days and sixteen hours.” During that time, he unintentionally inspires a HUGE following. It begins with one guy thinking this running-across-America thing is quite groovy. More join in, and more still; all following Forrest, mile after mile. Until, in the middle of what looks like New Mexico, Forrest stops running. “I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll go home now,” he says, as he walks through his followers, parting down the center like the Red Sea. Someone yells, “Now what’re we supposed to do?” Forrest says nothing. He just goes home.
It’s funny what inspires us, amen? I once heard a guy interviewed who grew up loving electronics. For some unknown reason, he decided to learn all about pay phones, eventually figuring out how to make long distance calls on them for free. So he called…the Pope, pretending to be Harry Kissinger. The Pontiff’s personal assistant figured out the ruse after thirty minutes, but the guy wasn’t deterred. Steve Jobs co-founded Apple Computers, and makes a decent living. All because, randomly, he was inspired by electronics.
Inspiration has made its way into recent sermons and letters; maybe you’ve noticed. It’s been on my mind, and that’s because I think Christian living should be inspired living- living with purpose and mission. What that looks like for each of us isn’t always clear, especially when life goes through changes. But I don’t think we should ever give up searching for that little something that inspires us.
Unlike the runners of Forrest Gump, though, Christian inspiration has a distinct purpose. Jesus described it in Matthew 23:37-40, “Love the LORD your God…and love your neighbor as yourself.” But Jesus isn’t Forrest, running away from the past to put the pain behind him. Jesus leads us toward something- namely, the Reign of God, where unconditional, overwhelming love rule the day every day. As his followers, we run after him toward this glorious Reign, both receiving divine love in fuller measure every step, and sharing it with everyone we pass, inviting them to join in.
Every year, running inspires Plymouth Creekers to follow Jesus and love our neighbors. Walking actually, but close enough. I mean the annual CROP Walk, of course, or what I often call the Plymouth Creek Victory Celebration (since we’re always the top fundraiser!). I’m not exactly sure why CROP Walk, which fights hunger from our doorsteps to the ends of the earth, inspires us so much, but it does. Other things inspire us to pursue God’s Reign too, of course, but the CROP Walk’s worth mentioning because it’s this Sunday, October 11, when, as in years past, we’ll walk/jog/run after our Lord on a mission. If you’re walking, thanks for getting inspired. If you’re not, thanks for your support. Walking may be simple stuff, but that’s how the Reign of God happens- God’s overwhelming love inspires ordinary life. May this walk help you live inspired. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane
PS- If you still want to support our walking, go to the Church World Service Web Site. Click “Find Your Walk”, look for the MN NW Suburbs walk and click donate (or just follow this link). Search for team “Plymouth Creek.” And viola!
PPS- If you have family/friends who might want to help, pass along this letter. Thanks to all! Read more!
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Some strange symbolism…
I did it. I’m a lemming. A sheep. And you know what? I don’t care! If I had it to do over, I’d do it sooner. I hope we can still be friends. But I thought you should know- I read Dan Brown’s new novel.
Maybe, just maybe you don’t know what I’m talking about. Perhaps one or two of you haven’t heard that Dan Brown, (in)famous author of the 2003 smash hit novel The Da Vinci Code, has FINALLY published another book. I was in seminary when Da Vinci came out, and the blowback was stupendous. Multiple professors spent entire class periods giving unannounced lectures on the theological and historical inaccuracies of the novel (my seminary took itself a bit too seriously, at times). Across the nation, both theological liberals and conservatives joined forces in condemning this “appalling work of absolute fiction”, albeit for different reasons. All this attention did exactly what the publisher hoped for: I got interested enough to read it.
I’m glad I did. It was a fun book. Not very careful about church history, but entertaining. A buddy of mine, after I finished Da Vinci, lent me two of Brown’s earlier novels, and I devoured those as well. So when I heard recently that another Dan Brown adventure, titled The Lost Symbol, was out, I got it, and within a week my Dan Brown fix was fixed.
The book, you should know, doesn’t have those mind-blowing speculations about Christianity that made The Da Vinci Code controversial. But there’s stuff that will get folk a bit heated, which is partly why I like these stories. They get folk thinking about religion. Being a pastor, that makes me happy. Surprise, surprise. Also, they encourage folk to think about religion in atypical ways. I like that too, despite my hesitations with Dan Brown’s theology. My reason for that is I think we often struggle to keep our thinking about God and religion from turning stale. That goes for both churchgoers and the church averse. With all that’s going on in our lives, it’s easy to get afflicted with the “I believe what I believe and that’s all there is to it” syndrome. People stop searching for fresh insight. Curiosity about God diminishes. Wonder and mystery lose their fascination. So I love it when something pops up that sparks new thinking about God. It could be a book, movie, an archeological find; it might challenge, or reinforce, fundamental beliefs. Whatever the case, when folk start re-exploring religious stuff, I believe that opens space for the Spirit to enter in and get to work.
Which relates, interestingly, to the book’s title, The Lost Symbol. Religion and symbols go together. But there’s a difference with the symbols in a puzzle (Brown’s specialty) and those used in religious worship. To the religious, a ‘symbol’ is more than a metaphor, more than a picture that represents something else. A religious ‘symbol’ takes a faithful person beyond herself into the presence of something greater. Religious symbols invite folk to interact with, and not just look at, that which is symbolized. So when I call Jesus, “King,” I mean more than, “Jesus is like royalty.” That symbol invites me to recognize and accept Jesus’ lordship over life. When I call God “Mother” or “Father,” I’m more than describing God. I’m acknowledging the very real relationship I can have with my Divine Parent. And remember, God is so great, no one symbol says everything there is to say. So it’s important we use multiple symbols to speak of God. We don’t want to worship an idea of God, or one symbol, in God’s place. Still, what’s cool is when we seek to speak more creatively about God, God’s Spirit shows up.
Regardless, Dan Brown books are fun adventures. If you plan to read it, I got a copy you can borrow. We can chat about it after, explore the symbols and plot twists together. If you don’t read it, I pray you’re finding something else to nurture your wonder about the God we serve. And that we all discover new symbols to describe our limitless Lord. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Maybe, just maybe you don’t know what I’m talking about. Perhaps one or two of you haven’t heard that Dan Brown, (in)famous author of the 2003 smash hit novel The Da Vinci Code, has FINALLY published another book. I was in seminary when Da Vinci came out, and the blowback was stupendous. Multiple professors spent entire class periods giving unannounced lectures on the theological and historical inaccuracies of the novel (my seminary took itself a bit too seriously, at times). Across the nation, both theological liberals and conservatives joined forces in condemning this “appalling work of absolute fiction”, albeit for different reasons. All this attention did exactly what the publisher hoped for: I got interested enough to read it.
I’m glad I did. It was a fun book. Not very careful about church history, but entertaining. A buddy of mine, after I finished Da Vinci, lent me two of Brown’s earlier novels, and I devoured those as well. So when I heard recently that another Dan Brown adventure, titled The Lost Symbol, was out, I got it, and within a week my Dan Brown fix was fixed.
The book, you should know, doesn’t have those mind-blowing speculations about Christianity that made The Da Vinci Code controversial. But there’s stuff that will get folk a bit heated, which is partly why I like these stories. They get folk thinking about religion. Being a pastor, that makes me happy. Surprise, surprise. Also, they encourage folk to think about religion in atypical ways. I like that too, despite my hesitations with Dan Brown’s theology. My reason for that is I think we often struggle to keep our thinking about God and religion from turning stale. That goes for both churchgoers and the church averse. With all that’s going on in our lives, it’s easy to get afflicted with the “I believe what I believe and that’s all there is to it” syndrome. People stop searching for fresh insight. Curiosity about God diminishes. Wonder and mystery lose their fascination. So I love it when something pops up that sparks new thinking about God. It could be a book, movie, an archeological find; it might challenge, or reinforce, fundamental beliefs. Whatever the case, when folk start re-exploring religious stuff, I believe that opens space for the Spirit to enter in and get to work.
Which relates, interestingly, to the book’s title, The Lost Symbol. Religion and symbols go together. But there’s a difference with the symbols in a puzzle (Brown’s specialty) and those used in religious worship. To the religious, a ‘symbol’ is more than a metaphor, more than a picture that represents something else. A religious ‘symbol’ takes a faithful person beyond herself into the presence of something greater. Religious symbols invite folk to interact with, and not just look at, that which is symbolized. So when I call Jesus, “King,” I mean more than, “Jesus is like royalty.” That symbol invites me to recognize and accept Jesus’ lordship over life. When I call God “Mother” or “Father,” I’m more than describing God. I’m acknowledging the very real relationship I can have with my Divine Parent. And remember, God is so great, no one symbol says everything there is to say. So it’s important we use multiple symbols to speak of God. We don’t want to worship an idea of God, or one symbol, in God’s place. Still, what’s cool is when we seek to speak more creatively about God, God’s Spirit shows up.
Regardless, Dan Brown books are fun adventures. If you plan to read it, I got a copy you can borrow. We can chat about it after, explore the symbols and plot twists together. If you don’t read it, I pray you’re finding something else to nurture your wonder about the God we serve. And that we all discover new symbols to describe our limitless Lord. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Your Ministry…
It’s not every day you see a minister being held upside down while drinking directly from a keg. In fact, I’ve only seen it once myself, but it made a strong impression.
It happened one night during college (of course), and just so there’s no confusion, understand that the keg in question was full of root beer. The college church group I attended threw a “Root Beer Keg Party,” and like other keg parties on campus, spirits and energy levels were high. We danced, told jokes, and at one point in the evening, held our minister, Mark, aloft while counting how many seconds he could drink root beer continuously. Poor Mark. All he wanted was to talk with us about Jesus’ love, and that’s the goofy stuff we put him through. He’ll get to skip up a few places in the line for Heaven, I believe. But strange as it sounds, that night’s events taught me important stuff.
True confession- The Root Beer Keg Party was my idea. I was on the college ministry’s Leadership Team, and had half-jokingly suggested this, as a way to engage our context with a bit of humor. Mark, rather than shoot me down, said, “Let’s explore the idea.” And then he put me in charge of making it happen. This taught me two important rules: 1) Always encourage people to do ministry they feel passionate about (and not just what you’re comfortable with), and 2) The Good News of Jesus Christ can speak in more ways than any of us can imagine. I’m glad Mark taught these lessons. Church would be much duller if every act of ministry was a recycling of earlier ideas. And I doubt it would reach people. Sure, the Kingdom won’t come because a church serves locally brewed root beer. But it didn’t hurt, and maybe even did some good.
That story reminds me of my favorite parts of Sunday morning at Plymouth Creek. Two things pop out. One, the list of worship participants is loooong. Indeed, it’s longer than most churches of a comparable size. Second, number one on that list is always the same, “All Members…Ministers.” Two different things, but a similar point- Plymouth Creek supports shared ministry. Whether it’s how we self-describe, or the many folk who put in time every Sunday, our church hopes that everyone shares the church’s work, and that no one member (or staff person) feel overly responsible for the ministry we do. Everyone is a minister at Plymouth Creek. Everyone can serve, in her or his own way, at the table.
And that means that everyone must be open to activities that seem atypical, or that even feel uncomfortable.
I led a workshop the other week about the many different forms of ministry during Christian History. Some folk, of course, preached and taught. Some were bishops or regional leaders who held oversight responsibility for numerous Christian communities. Most Christians, though, ministered through service. They served meals during worship, or to a sick neighbor. They served the community member who’d recently had a child, or whose spouse passed away. Because time passed, and needs changed as people changed, folk translated Jesus’ Good News into new cultural contexts. And the ministry Christians performed changed one generation to the next. Still, what remained was service- i.e. compassion for one’s neighbor- and so Christian ministry continued.
So I’ve wondered since that workshop, “What are the unique ministries of service our church members perform?” Or maybe the question is better put- What’s your ministry? After all, all Plymouth Creekers are ministers. Some recently organized a game night. Others inspired a CROP Walk. Some painted. Others brought ‘seniors’ together for lunch. A couple folded this newsletter. The list goes on, but it’s never complete. There are more needs in our community than one person or church could meet, and that means we must open our eyes, hearts and hands in service. Maybe root beer doesn’t excite you, but gardening or scrapbooking does. Or something. Whatever it is, let me know, however unique. I’m anxious to serve more and more with you. Plymouth, and the world, needs it. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
It happened one night during college (of course), and just so there’s no confusion, understand that the keg in question was full of root beer. The college church group I attended threw a “Root Beer Keg Party,” and like other keg parties on campus, spirits and energy levels were high. We danced, told jokes, and at one point in the evening, held our minister, Mark, aloft while counting how many seconds he could drink root beer continuously. Poor Mark. All he wanted was to talk with us about Jesus’ love, and that’s the goofy stuff we put him through. He’ll get to skip up a few places in the line for Heaven, I believe. But strange as it sounds, that night’s events taught me important stuff.
True confession- The Root Beer Keg Party was my idea. I was on the college ministry’s Leadership Team, and had half-jokingly suggested this, as a way to engage our context with a bit of humor. Mark, rather than shoot me down, said, “Let’s explore the idea.” And then he put me in charge of making it happen. This taught me two important rules: 1) Always encourage people to do ministry they feel passionate about (and not just what you’re comfortable with), and 2) The Good News of Jesus Christ can speak in more ways than any of us can imagine. I’m glad Mark taught these lessons. Church would be much duller if every act of ministry was a recycling of earlier ideas. And I doubt it would reach people. Sure, the Kingdom won’t come because a church serves locally brewed root beer. But it didn’t hurt, and maybe even did some good.
That story reminds me of my favorite parts of Sunday morning at Plymouth Creek. Two things pop out. One, the list of worship participants is loooong. Indeed, it’s longer than most churches of a comparable size. Second, number one on that list is always the same, “All Members…Ministers.” Two different things, but a similar point- Plymouth Creek supports shared ministry. Whether it’s how we self-describe, or the many folk who put in time every Sunday, our church hopes that everyone shares the church’s work, and that no one member (or staff person) feel overly responsible for the ministry we do. Everyone is a minister at Plymouth Creek. Everyone can serve, in her or his own way, at the table.
And that means that everyone must be open to activities that seem atypical, or that even feel uncomfortable.
I led a workshop the other week about the many different forms of ministry during Christian History. Some folk, of course, preached and taught. Some were bishops or regional leaders who held oversight responsibility for numerous Christian communities. Most Christians, though, ministered through service. They served meals during worship, or to a sick neighbor. They served the community member who’d recently had a child, or whose spouse passed away. Because time passed, and needs changed as people changed, folk translated Jesus’ Good News into new cultural contexts. And the ministry Christians performed changed one generation to the next. Still, what remained was service- i.e. compassion for one’s neighbor- and so Christian ministry continued.
So I’ve wondered since that workshop, “What are the unique ministries of service our church members perform?” Or maybe the question is better put- What’s your ministry? After all, all Plymouth Creekers are ministers. Some recently organized a game night. Others inspired a CROP Walk. Some painted. Others brought ‘seniors’ together for lunch. A couple folded this newsletter. The list goes on, but it’s never complete. There are more needs in our community than one person or church could meet, and that means we must open our eyes, hearts and hands in service. Maybe root beer doesn’t excite you, but gardening or scrapbooking does. Or something. Whatever it is, let me know, however unique. I’m anxious to serve more and more with you. Plymouth, and the world, needs it. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Sunday, September 27, 2009
That’s some great communion…
Surveys, books, and personal experience all point to something that seems relatively universal these days: many Christians no longer care about denominations. Why that is is a topic for another letter, but I suspect that’s not terribly shocking to read.
For worshippers in this denomination, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), this might be taken as good news. Indeed, we began as an anti-denominational movement in the early 1800’s, and grew faster than any other American Christian tradition through the remainder of that century. Our distinctive, and liberating, message was simple: No Creed but Christ, No Book but the Bible. This slogan reflects the basic principle of our movement- Unity. To this day, we understand our church as a “movement for wholeness in a fragmented world,” something that happens most fully and frequently for us at the Lord’s Table every week during communion.
The irony, of course, is that in the two hundred years of the Stone-Campbell Movement’s existence (so named after our most influential founders), we’ve splintered twice. The first came in the aftermath of the Civil War, when the “Christians” broke with the “Churches of Christ.” The second splinter occurred more slowly, though it began when the “Christian Churches- Independent” first emerged as a distinct group in the first decade of the 20th Century. Our two fellowships grew further apart in subsequent decades until, in 1967, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) intentionally covenanted to become an ‘denomination’ (previously, we were a movement of autonomous, but related churches). Because of that decision, some 700,000 Christians in thousands of churches did not follow.
Sad as these divisions may be, nevertheless all three branches in the Stone-Campbell family still profess an abiding commitment to Christian Unity. We take our cue from Jesus’ great prayer at the end of John’s Gospel, 17:20-21, “I ask...on behalf of those who will believe in me…that they may all be one…so that the world will believe that you have sent me.” In fact, you may know this is why I joined the Disciples. As a teenager, people would ask, “What is your religion?” I always responded, “I’m Christian.” “Yeah, but what kind of Christian?” And I would answer, “Christian is enough for me.” I still believe that, as deeply as I love my particular family of faith. So when it came time for ordination, I learned about these weird folk named “Disciples”, who were a denomination that thought denominations were less important than Unity. I said, “That’s exactly the place for me.”
I share all this because on October 4th,folk from all three branches of the Stone-Campbell Movement from around the country are getting together to declare to one another and the world that Unity is still our Polar Star. We will do this, here in Minnesota, at Valley Christian Church in Lakeville at 4 PM, and I’m helping with the service. The occasion for getting together is the 200th Anniversary of our Movement’s founding moment, when Thomas Campbell signed his groundbreaking Declaration and Address, something I wrote about a couple weeks back. There will be preachers and worship leaders from representatives of all three branches at the service, which will culminate in our celebrating Communion. In fact, the nation-wide commemoration is called The Great Communion.
This excites me. Our three entities still disagree over much, and it’s not likely we’ll merge anytime soon. But that doesn’t mean we’re not one already. All Christian Unity rests on the fact that Jesus invited us first. It is Jesus’ love, sacrifice and grace that makes us One, regardless of the fact we can’t embody that fully in this broken world. So I hope you join me. It shouldn’t be too long of a service. We may even learn something! At the very least, we’ll get to spend time with Christians we don’t often meet with, which is, to my mind, always a blessing. After all, whatever the denomination or title, Christian is still Christian, and that means a lover and friend of Jesus, who we claim is Lord. Call it suppertime with a friend of a Friend. I’ve heard the menu is live-changing. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
For worshippers in this denomination, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), this might be taken as good news. Indeed, we began as an anti-denominational movement in the early 1800’s, and grew faster than any other American Christian tradition through the remainder of that century. Our distinctive, and liberating, message was simple: No Creed but Christ, No Book but the Bible. This slogan reflects the basic principle of our movement- Unity. To this day, we understand our church as a “movement for wholeness in a fragmented world,” something that happens most fully and frequently for us at the Lord’s Table every week during communion.
The irony, of course, is that in the two hundred years of the Stone-Campbell Movement’s existence (so named after our most influential founders), we’ve splintered twice. The first came in the aftermath of the Civil War, when the “Christians” broke with the “Churches of Christ.” The second splinter occurred more slowly, though it began when the “Christian Churches- Independent” first emerged as a distinct group in the first decade of the 20th Century. Our two fellowships grew further apart in subsequent decades until, in 1967, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) intentionally covenanted to become an ‘denomination’ (previously, we were a movement of autonomous, but related churches). Because of that decision, some 700,000 Christians in thousands of churches did not follow.
Sad as these divisions may be, nevertheless all three branches in the Stone-Campbell family still profess an abiding commitment to Christian Unity. We take our cue from Jesus’ great prayer at the end of John’s Gospel, 17:20-21, “I ask...on behalf of those who will believe in me…that they may all be one…so that the world will believe that you have sent me.” In fact, you may know this is why I joined the Disciples. As a teenager, people would ask, “What is your religion?” I always responded, “I’m Christian.” “Yeah, but what kind of Christian?” And I would answer, “Christian is enough for me.” I still believe that, as deeply as I love my particular family of faith. So when it came time for ordination, I learned about these weird folk named “Disciples”, who were a denomination that thought denominations were less important than Unity. I said, “That’s exactly the place for me.”
I share all this because on October 4th,folk from all three branches of the Stone-Campbell Movement from around the country are getting together to declare to one another and the world that Unity is still our Polar Star. We will do this, here in Minnesota, at Valley Christian Church in Lakeville at 4 PM, and I’m helping with the service. The occasion for getting together is the 200th Anniversary of our Movement’s founding moment, when Thomas Campbell signed his groundbreaking Declaration and Address, something I wrote about a couple weeks back. There will be preachers and worship leaders from representatives of all three branches at the service, which will culminate in our celebrating Communion. In fact, the nation-wide commemoration is called The Great Communion.
This excites me. Our three entities still disagree over much, and it’s not likely we’ll merge anytime soon. But that doesn’t mean we’re not one already. All Christian Unity rests on the fact that Jesus invited us first. It is Jesus’ love, sacrifice and grace that makes us One, regardless of the fact we can’t embody that fully in this broken world. So I hope you join me. It shouldn’t be too long of a service. We may even learn something! At the very least, we’ll get to spend time with Christians we don’t often meet with, which is, to my mind, always a blessing. After all, whatever the denomination or title, Christian is still Christian, and that means a lover and friend of Jesus, who we claim is Lord. Call it suppertime with a friend of a Friend. I’ve heard the menu is live-changing. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
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