Whatever’s needed…

If I’d stayed on track (I tell myself), I might be managing my very own KFC by now. Oh, the places I could’ve gone. You may know I began working during high school, at a local Kentucky Fried Chicken. Nine months later, they promoted me to Assistant Manager! Why so soon? Perhaps I was that rare teenager at our store who showed up regularly on time, or who hadn’t quit within six months. Whatever the reason, they sent me for training, gave me a snazzy new shirt and raised my pay to $6.35/hour!

I don’t remember much from those classes, save two important lessons.

1. Because chicken can cause salmonella, cook it to an internal temperature over 165 degrees. 
2. Customer service must always be extra-ordinary. 

 Lesson #1 should be obvious. Lesson #2, let me explain. Being a manager now, they told me, meant more than huge wages and increased street cred. I was also responsible for thinking about the big picture, the store’s long-term success. And when it came to fast food, how we treated people really mattered. One study claimed that for each person who had a negative experience at our store, they’d tell, on average, ten others. So if I was rude, or messed up an order badly, or our bathrooms were gross, eleven people in my community thought less of us. That could compound quickly. The same study claimed it took an exceptional experience- astoundingly tasty food, a uniquely fantastic cashier- for someone to share it, and then they’d only tell three people. Interesting numbers- mess up, eleven people know; do alright, who cares; far exceed expectations, only four people hear the good news. In other words, for a business/entity that relies on customer service and good hospitality to survive, thrive and expand, getting by just won’t cut it. You must be committed to excellence.
This week, of course, Christmas arrives again, and a famous part of this beloved story has been on my mind. You know how it goes- Joseph and Mary travel to Bethlehem, give birth to Jesus, and lay “him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.” That half-sentence has sparked many imaginations over the centuries. Some condemned the innkeeper for treating the Holy Family disrespectfully. Others chuckled at the irony. I, however, love that line because it establishes, from the outset, a (the?) core Christian value: hospitality.

The innkeeper, of course, had no idea who was on her doorstep. And while she couldn’t change the fact her inn was already full, she could’ve said, “Go somewhere else.” Yet she acknowledged a couple in need, and found room when there was none. She provided great hospitality. No, she didn’t give the best service imaginable. But faced with a choice, the innkeeper did what she could and creatively met this couple’s needs, giving Jesus at least some place to lay his head.

That’s a parable, I believe, for the goal of Christian faith- always, as best you’re able, provide the hospitality people need. Or to quote Jesus- Love your neighbor. I think about this now because, during Christmas, I meet many new people. Relatives of church members in town for the Holidays. New folk to the neighborhood dropping by to check out the church. Someone, who attends worship only for major holidays, blesses us with her/his presence. Whatever the reason, Christmas gives us more chances to provide hospitality than most any other time. Meaning we get to do more of what we (should) do best!

Of course, as the innkeeper showed, good Christian hospitality responds to what others want or need, as best we’re able, rather than assumes we already know what’s needed. And as my manager training years ago taught, memorable hospitality is one of two things- bad or exceptional.

Let’s commit to exceptional Christian hospitality this year, shall we?! And not just toward Christmas visitors, but to each other and people in need throughout the year. For Christmas is only the beginning of something remarkable, and not the culmination, amen? Besides, I think y’all, and our Lord, are too wonderful not to get people talking.

Grace and Peace,

Shane
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Light in the darkness…

When I announced I was moving to Minnesota, multiple people responded in shock, saying, “Whooooaa! That place is sooo cold!” I lived in Kentucky at the time, so take that reaction with a grain of salt. They cancel school there at the threat of snow; six inches might cause historic panic. Still, even outside the South, our state has a reputation for extreme winters. International Falls, along the Canadian Border, prides itself as the coldest town in the country, self-describing as “The Icebox of the Nation”. The population is an unsurprisingly low 1200, although I imagine they’ve more sweaters than the entire state of Kentucky. But even if our frigid reputation is deserved in some ways, that didn’t matter to me. I figured that very few cold weather conditions can’t be solved with the right, and enough, layers. So I packed my hats, dusted off extra sweaters, and excitedly moved north!

What I failed to expect, however, was another facet of Minnesota winter that all the down coats in the world are powerless to confront. The Darkness. Minnesota winter is a dark time, indeed. And sure, before I moved I’d heard about winter days being shorter and nights longer the farther north you lived. That doesn’t mean I anticipated my negative reaction to that fact. Or how pervasive the doldrums would spread across the city the longer our dark days lasted. So my first Minnesota January was a revelation. I moped about, wondering why I was so grumpy and why everyone else was too. Then, I turned on more lights in my home, and strangely felt the positive vibes picking up.

Recently, I learned that circumstance may have something to do with Christmas, especially why the early church chose to celebrate it on December 25. We don’t know, of course, the actual date of Jesus’ birth. The calendar then was different than ours, and besides, neither Mary nor Joseph were important enough (yet!) to merit written records of their daily actions. Luke includes a reference about Gabriel announcing Jesus’ conception on the ‘sixth month,’ but such suggestions are speculative at best, likely Luke’s symbolic additions to provide his story with greater texture and authority. So the early church, when they decided to make Jesus’ birth an annual festival, had to rely not on fact, but the needs of their community at the time. And so, one theory goes, they chose a day near the Winter Solstice, i.e. the longest night of the year. Many early religions honor that day, of course, a sign of order in a chaotic world, or of the ever-revolving nature of the seasons. So it was familiar to these Christians, and had an additional benefit besides.

Remember John 1? “In the beginning was the Word…and the Word was God…the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us…” In that Gospel, there’re no stories of Wise Men and Angels. All we hear of Jesus’ beginning is this poetic declaration that the Word (i.e. Jesus) helped create the world, and then came to live amongst us as “the light of all people.” John then claims that, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” In other words, an important early belief about Jesus was this claim about brightness and darkness- maybe as metaphors of holiness v. sin, justice v. oppression, peace v. violence. Or all of the above! Not surprising, then, that they’d choose the Winter Solstice to celebrate light coming into the world, overcoming darkness. Literally and spiritually, that’s exactly what’s happening.

So maybe, as you abide these darkest days of our year, you’ll remember that “the darkness does not overcome.” Spring will return, and bring a pervasive sense of fresh air and joy. And Jesus will be (re)born in our midst, overcoming fear, loneliness, anxiety, and sin with the Light of a new Creation. If we invite him to do so, that is. May that be so, in my life, and yours. The darkness may be natural, and helpful on days we want to catch up on sleep! But it needn’t weigh us down this Winter, for the light of our world has come.

Grace and Peace,
Shane
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Fearfully and wonderfully made…

I feel older this week than I did last week, by more than seven days. And that seems like mostly a good thing, but surprising, and a bit sad. Not that getting older is cause for sorrow; I find our culture’s unhealthy obsession with youth annoying, in fact. In my opinion, aging is a blessing- that comes with challenges, sure- but the benefits should outweigh the troubles. Rather, my lingering melancholy at feeling suddenly more grown-up derives from the sad news I received last week. In case you didn’t hear- My good buddy, Mike, died unexpectedly last Tuesday, leaving behind a wife eight-months pregnant, and heartbroken parents, siblings and friends.

I had the privilege to officiate Mike’s wedding, though none of us would’ve guessed I’d do the same for his funeral. It felt both appropriate and ridiculous. That I could help his family this way, so they could just grieve and not worry whether Mike would receive a fitting, familiar tribute, was an honor. And I’m grateful for a church who affords me the flexibility to take those days off. Thank you! But suitable as it was that I, a friend, led the Memorial Service, it’s also a bit absurd. For one, I’m still a young minister, and certainly wondered at times whether I was up to the task. But more absurd, and more importantly, was Mike’s youth and abrupt death. Thirty year-old expectant fathers just aren’t supposed to die. It feels wrong, somehow, an affront to goodness. And I’d be angry, I think, if I wasn’t in shock.

Does that sound familiar? I suspect so. I think that many of us believe, perhaps unconsciously, there’s an order to life. Or there should be. And so think, when that order’s upended, it’s not just sad, but offensive. As if the universe messed up. Sure, if pushed, we’d acknowledge that life is fragile, that we’re never in control, that anything can happen. But that’s not how we live day-to-day, right? We make plans as if we are in control. We (mis)treat friends, neighbors, family, as if we know how long we’ve got left. Fragility, vulnerability are talked of not as facts of life, but symptoms of failure. It seems to me such patterns of behavior and speech are powerful, widely shared, and hey, sometimes even helpful. They may help us live more confidently, take more risks, weather hard times with optimism. Until times get too hard. And something exposes us as fragile, dependent creatures. To which, we might respond angrily, “That should not happen! At least, not to me…”

But Jesus once said, “Blessed are (the meek, poor…) those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” It’s like our Leader didn’t share our familiar way of thinking. He pronounced God’s favor- blessings- on the most (obviously) vulnerable and fragile amongst us. And I wonder if, among other reasons, that’s about peace of mind…

Of course, as fragile and angry as I’ve felt recently, peace of mind has been elusive. But after crying with friends, saying my goodbyes, I’m feeling older, and more accepting of my limitations. That I’m not invincible. That, truly, it can happen to me. And as I project those feelings into the future (assuming I maintain and integrate them!), it seems somehow…more peaceful. Like I’ll learn to better trust that which is beyond me more than myself. And while I’m sure God shares my grief at Mike’s death (or anytime our fragility leads to heartache), God probably thinks that perspective is good, that it builds humility and compassion.

Or maybe I’m just groping to cope with a tragic situation! Which is alright too... That many of us have the instinct to search dark clouds for silver linings, that’s probably also a sign of blessedness. Maybe even a sign of trust, that whatever happens, we’ll find ourselves, eventually, in the midst of love and brightness, which no darkness can overcome. I believe deeply that’s where my buddy Mike is now, and will welcome me when it’s my turn. Until then, rest in peace, dear friend.

And may we be more loving to our fragile neighbors- precious children of God, every one.


Grace and Peace,

Shane
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Long-lasting gifts…

For all the outsized passion and anxious anticipation I invested in Christmas as a child, I don’t remember many of the presents I received. There was the basketball hoop above the garage- that was cool. One year, my present was ski bindings. The year after, I got skis. After major concussions two consecutive years while skiing, my Christmas present was a top-of-the-line helmet. My mother put it this way, “We’re paying too much in college tuition for you to worry about looking cool on the slopes. I don’t care how much it costs; get the best helmet there is.” I still use that helmet, by the way, and haven’t had another concussion, yet. As a bonus, ski helmets have since become ‘cool skiing attire.’

Still, most Christmas gifts I received over the years weren’t especially memorable. Some new video game, piece of clothing, popular toy, whatever. All deeply desired and loudly lobbied for ahead of time. Of course. But over time, basically undifferentiated.

I wonder if that has something to do with the longevity of those gifts? I remember the b-ball hoop and skiing stuff because, well, I used them for a loooooong time. But I don’t play video games anymore (I was never good anyway). I’ve outgrown my old clothes and styles. I ate all the food gifts I was given, often that very day! It seems most of our childhood Christmas gifts weren’t really designed for longevity, were they? They provided joy for a time, reinforced our parents’ love, but weren’t typically built to last the decades.

As an adult, however, I prefer gifts I’ll use for a long time, or something that fulfills a need. Especially both. I’m willing to pay more (or for my wife to pay more) for long-lasting gifts. And if the result is fewer gifts, that’s fine with me. Less junk to clean up later after all. Can I get an amen for that?!

This Christmas, you might know, Plymouth Creek is getting a new gift; one that I suspect we’ll remember well as time goes by. Well, it may not be exactly Christmas, but we’re hoping that’s the basic timing. In any event, we’ll soon receive money for a church bus and seven years of operating expenses (time enough to build gas, insurance and upkeep into our annual budget).

If all goes as hoped and planned, this will be a great, wonderful gift. It’ll fulfill a need and be long-lasting, as well as honor the long-lasting gifts of others. For one, it’s the result of many months of research and planning on the part of the Board, its leaders and Steve Weaver. But it’s especially the consequence of many decades of faithfulness from Christian sisters and brothers of another church. I’m speaking, of course, about Valley View Christian Church. For many years, they provided ministry in Audubon Park, and then Fridley, until unfortunately closing their doors in 2003. The sale of their building and assets established a fund that has since paid for our Sunday morning bus service. Some former VV folk are now current PCCCers, and needed extra assistance getting to church. But now, rather than continuing to hire others for that ministry, we’ve decided to take it on ourselves! So the VV fund is giving us a one-time grant to establish a bus ministry. Meaning soon our members will make that Sunday morning run. And we’ll also have bus transportation for other ministries.

Remember what my mother said about my ski helmet gift? Basically, “You need to be responsible.” I think that’s an enduring truth about most long-lasting gifts, however fun they might be. This bus is a big responsibility, though one I believe we’ll manage well. But think about other memorable, long-lasting gifts, and a pattern emerges. Remarkable talent, a new job, family and kids. Memorable, long-lasting gifts go hand-in-hand with responsibility. Maybe that’s why gifts get more memorable as we age; growth builds strength and capacity, and thus, greater responsibility. I pray this gift reflects the continued growth and development of our church, and we’ll be faithful stewards of our new responsibilities, and the gifts of our Valley View friends.

Grace and Peace,
Shane
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A fine balance…

My birthday gift this year was about as good as my wife could hope for. As you might know, I’ve decided to become a good cook, so I asked her to give me cooking classes. Her response- Of course! Since the only burden that gift put on her was to eat the ever-increasing quality of food I made. A sacrifice she agreed to make for my happiness.

Recently, however, the bargain didn’t work as well as either of us are hoping. I took a sushi-making class at Whole Foods near Lake Calhoun. We like sushi; I thought, therefore, it’d be fun to make at home eventually. And besides, how hard could it be?! Rice, seaweed, tuna, wasabi. All I needed were tips for cooking the rice and rolling the rolls, and I’d be an instant sushi chef. Right? Right…

Wrong.

The class was hands-on, and quite good. The instructor described the rice-making process and showed how to roll a sushi roll. She gave helpful recipes, and presented a vast array of ingredients she’d prepared for experimenting purposes. Then, it was time for us to make sushi ourselves! Fyi, I’d promised Tabitha I’d bring mine home as her dinner…

I won’t bore you with the details; suffice to say, I didn’t follow the recipes. Rather, I followed my instincts, created on the fly, hoping to discover an unexpectedly wonderful new combination. I didn’t. Instead, I produced a jumble of tastes that didn’t complement each other; an over-abundance of soft textures that felt like bad mash potatoes; a dinner only edible because I felt compelled. Fortunately, Whole Foods has a professional sushi counter, which I stopped by before leaving. Tabitha, after all, was expecting sushi she could eat.

I’m sure that meal failed for many reasons, but since it was my first time, I didn’t feel terrible. Call it an exercise in giving myself grace. Still, I do want to learn this skill, so I’ve been pondering. And it seems that my major mistake was miscalculating the balance. All chefs know, of course, that balance is essential for any good tasting meal (not just sushi). All sweet but no bitter may work for ice cream, but in most dishes, the goal is a fine balance between various tastes and textures. Alas, my sushi rolls were decidedly unbalanced. Too much rice, not enough crunchy counterweights, excess wasabi (which, at least, cleared my sinuses…). I now know one reason sushi chefs apprentice for 5+ years- achieving an appropriately fine balance takes time to learn.

But that lesson isn’t exclusive for sushi chefs, right? What’s true for sushi is true for life (at least in terms of balance). And that’s especially so when talking spiritually-engaged living. One of God’s greatest roles in our lives, in fact, is to help us discover strength and perspective to balance life’s many concerns. Spending lots of time and money on just yourself? Jesus said, “Whatsoever you do for the least of these, you do to me.” Time to level scales. Spending too much time pleasing others- kids, boss, friends- and not eating well, exercising, praying enough? Jesus said, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Both sides are important. The goal isn’t complete self-denial or self-realization. It’s a fine balance.

I think that’s one among many reasons I don’t define faith by our “beliefs,” like those who say, “I’m Christian because I believe Jesus is God.” Beliefs are ideas you affirm are true. Faith is more active. It’s the trust you develop in God’s vision and voice over time, after trying to listen, sinning, helping others, receiving help, i.e. upsetting and retaining a fine balance between hope and sadness, peace and anxiety. And because life shifts constantly around us, active participation is required to stay balanced. It’s not enough to say, “I believe Jesus is Lord.” It’s much more helpful to ask, “God, where in my life am I not acknowledging your loving Lordship?” And then taking the risk of faith to rebalance. It may not work immediately; you may need to keep praying, trusting, doing. But again, what’s true for sushi is true for life: there’s always tomorrow’s dinner...

Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!

Simply Christmas…

Ever feel like Christmas is a heavy holiday? That the day doesn’t so much arrive as it falls on you like a stack of firewood? I do. Every year, I want to celebrate Christmas with abandon and joy and a deep sense of spiritual renewal. But when I think about it, the anxiety machine in my heart ramps up for heavy production. I worry about worship planning, shopping lists for meals and gifts, the budget, charitable giving, etc. And yet, a sneaking suspicion always lurks in my mind that the point of Christmas is getting drowned out. Retailers call the day after Thanksgiving (i.e. the Holiday Shopping Season’s ‘official’ start) “Black Friday,” a reference to their hope that high sales on that day will turn their ledgers from red to black. But for many, I feel that day marks a transition of their mood from joyful to dark and gloomy, because the Holiday Season is more complicated than it should be.

We talked about that at a recent Worship Team meeting, and decided to fight back! Rather than resign ourselves to another Christmas overly complicated by too much unneeded stuff, we Plymouth Creekers will refocus on the simple stories and meanings of this wonderful season. So the theme for this year’s Advent is “Simply Christmas,” and we’ll explore that theme in multiple ways. Our sanctuary will have fewer decorations than normal. Every week, we’ll sing simple Christmas and Holiday songs, and retell just the basic stories of Christmas through our scriptures and sermons. And to cut through the over-commercialization of Christmas (ponder- How did we let Jesus’ birth become The occasion for stores to pressure folk into irresponsible spending?!?), we’re asking that you plan to give more needed gifts with us every week.

#1- Chana W challenged us recently to bring simple toiletries for families in need, believing that a simple tube of toothpaste can be a great Christmas gift. And beyond that, every week of Advent we’ll have a new opportunity to give a simple needed gift, reflecting that day’s theme. You know how each candle on the Advent Wreath has a unique meaning? Advent 1 is Hope, 2 is Love, 3 Joy, 4 Peace... Well, every Sunday, as we light a new candle and tell another part of the story of Jesus’ birth, we’ll put a simple item in front of the Sanctuary. That item will symbolize the simple theme and story of the week, and will also serve as a chance for you to give to people in need.

Of course, I won’t ruin the surprise, and tell you now what those items will be! But I will tell you what the schedule will be for our various gifts, so you can bring those to church on the corresponding Sunday. Just imagine- as Christmas gets closer and closer, the front of our Sanctuary will fill with the generous gifts of our church for those who need these gifts this season more than we. Pretty cool idea, I think, so we’re trying it out to see how it works. Here’s the schedule:

On November 28, the first Sunday in Advent, please bring a foodshelf donation. Click here for a list of items that are especially helpful.

On December 5, the second Sunday in Advent, please bring a children’s book (or a couple!) that’s new or gently used, and especially, if you can, toddler board books.

On December 12, the third Sunday in Advent, please bring a baby blanket (or a couple!), that’s new or gently used, and/or any other cold weather clothing like hats, jackets, mittens.

On December 19, the fourth Sunday in Advent, please bring money for a special peace offering, which will be explained on that Sunday.

At its most basic, the simple point of Jesus’ birth- and life, death and resurrection- was to transport us beyond ourselves into God’s very presence, and so give us deeper compassion and love for all God’s Creation. Living for something beyond yourself; a simple idea, sure. But it’s a Christmas gift we all need again and again, and a better one than even my deeply coveted Amazon Kindle… 

Grace and Peace,
Shane
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Last Things…

       Prompted by a text message, I wrote a letter recently about the soul. And I so enjoyed writing that, I decided to wash/rinse/repeat. Except I didn’t get a text message this time; it was an email. And it wasn’t about the soul; this one pondered the End Times. I promise this won’t be too scary…

       First, a memory. In high school, my youth group once attended a weekend event called, “Choir of the Fire.” It offered loud music, ‘Christian Cool’ t-shirts for purchase and all the fun we could handle. But my strongest memory is of the keynote speaker and his theory about the End of the World, which according to (his interpretation of) Revelation would occur soon. So Revelation’s Ten-Horned Beast was the European Union (which had 10 member states then …coincidence?…he thought not). A resurrected Soviet Union would invade Israel. Armageddon would ensue, literally.  In retrospect, I find the idea rather disgusting; gathering hundreds of impressionable youth, exciting them with pleasing sights and sounds, and then, at just the right time, scaring Hell into them so they’d support your ideology.  I’m sure he’d describe it differently; that he was encouraging us, telling us important stuff others weren’t.  At the time, though, I was freaked out, and years later, I’m deeply skeptical of fear-based theology, and especially anyone claiming to know the future through Biblical Interpretation.

      And yet, one of my favorite seminary books was The Writings of Joachim di Fiore.  This 12th Century monk/mystic was all the rage in his day, although the Catholic Church hierarchy thought him quite insane.  He predicted that in 1260 CE, the Church would cease, because history-as-we-know-it would end.  All humans (not just clergy) would connect directly with God.  So-called heathens and Christians would reconcile.  He even drew sweeping, detailed (and yes, perhaps a bit insane) pictures of dragons and angels and the Trinity, all metaphorical depictions of his theories, based on- you guessed it- interpretations of Revelation.  I loved the book’s imagination, inclusive spirit and poetic boldness (not its End Times theology or Biblical interpretation)!

      Ever notice how some Christians dream up vast, detailed theories about the End of Days, Heaven and Hell, yet spend almost no energy dreaming about a better life in this life for more people?  I find that unfortunate, even contrary to the point of Revelation (and all Biblical Prophecy).  Revelation, after all, was written (late 1st/early 2nd Century CE) for small Christian Communities experiencing much pressure and oppression.  One of their leaders (the text’s author) was in exile; local authorities had changed from tolerating this weird obsession with a crucified carpenter, to actively targeting and hurting Jesus’ Disciples.  So John writes to his oppressed minority communities, imaginatively proclaiming that even if the violent, unjust Roman Empire (aka, the Beast) wants to do them harm, the One Who Really Matters- Christ Triumphant- is on their side.  And Jesus will reign at the End, he contends, but mostly he wants to help them live more courageously today.

      Remember what Jesus said in Matthew 25 about God’s question for us in the End?  It wasn’t, “Did you hold the ‘right’ beliefs- about Me or the End Times?"  But rather, "What have you done to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the prisoner?"  I.e. Love your neighbor?  Basically, I think Paul’s right that, "The Day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night."  So we shouldn't waste time worrying about when it’ll end, in what ways, etc.  God's got that covered.  Rather, we all should live our lives now as if (another Jesus quote), "The Kingdom of God is at hand," is alive in our midst already!  So we treat neighbors with love and compassion like Jesus were standing next to us.  We act humbly, with respect and forgiveness, like the darkness that still permeates life isn't the most important thing.  Because it isn't!  God's loving presence is, and is always around us, prepared to connect directly with us, and so inspire us to be better and love more than we would otherwise.  I guess Joachim got that one right.

      Then again, we do live post-1260…eerie…

Grace and Peace,
Shane
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