Pretty much every church I enter, I’m greeted by a greeting. By which I mean that something- a bulletin board, a sign, a person- addresses me as a visitor, invariably claiming, “Welcome to our church. So glad you’re here. This (insert programs, values, beliefs here) is who we are. ” That’s what Christians do. We offer hospitality. It’s partly recruiting effort, obviously. But mostly, it’s showing love.
I love the stories from earlier days in our ministry, when Plymouth Creek (what was then New Ventures) worshipped in a local motel. Because the room used was near the building’s rear, I’m told, we stationed greeters in the lobby to greet first time attendees and usher them back to worship. Think of the personal attention such a mechanism allowed. “Thanks for coming. I’ll walk you back. Tell me, what brought you to our church?” Brilliant move, amen?! Unless the person simply wanted a room…
With a dedicated building, though, things have changed. Yet we’ve always had signs and processes for saying, “Welcome.” Indeed, for a long time, there was a welcome desk containing a folder for collecting contact info, staffed by church volunteers giving friendly smiles. A few years back, we eliminated that folder, since people these days are much more sensitive to privacy. Then, a few months back, we stopped scheduling greeters. In fact, we’ve moved that desk so far from the door there’s now no immediate sign addressing guests. It’s almost like we’ve eliminated the hospitality ministry.
So have we lost our minds?! Have we stopped caring?! I’ll be honest, several church folk have asked me questions along those lines. Very correctly, they’ve expressed concern about what message that sends. If no one’s up front to greet folk, will they ever get greeted? Shouldn’t the church go out of its way to make sure visitors feel welcome? Why would we change without something new in its place? Good points, all. Here’s my response.
The thing is, I don’t believe “Hospitality” is one church ministry among many. Rather, I’m convinced it’s the basic thing we do. Which is to say that none of us should ever feel like it’s someone else’s job to provide welcome. And if we’re not careful, we can fall into that pattern. I’ve often witnessed someone walk through the door who no one recognizes, then have PCCC folk beeline to…not to her, but me. “Shane, we’ve got visitors,” they’ll say. “Go say hi.” Obviously, this acknowledges an important idea- the minister should make time to welcome guests. But it also seems to suggest that’s purely my job, not ours. Ditto if we rely on designated greeters each Sunday morning. That can tempt us to think, “Someone else has it; I’m off the hook.
Now, I’m realistic. I don’t think everyone should huddle by the door, waiting for new people. That would be awkward. Plus, many of us have other important Sunday tasks. Moreover, an important thing we get from Sundays is time with friends, catching up with those we love, which really matters. Not to the exclusion of welcoming new folk, but it’s certainly critical. Nevertheless, I still think it’d be great if we all contributed to the church’s hospitality. Maybe you’re good at initiating conversation. If so, be on the lookout. Maybe you’re more comfortable saying, “Nice to meet you. Can I get you a bulletin?” Do it! Perhaps you’d rather arrange the introduction to the minister, giving that visitor a greeting two-for-one. It’s lovely if you’re simply best at opening doors and smiling.
The point is, we stopped scheduling “greeters” to see how it feels if hospitality was a necessarily shared endeavor. I’m not wedded to that scheme enduring until eternity, but I’d like to push you to help shoulder your part. If you usually avoid new people, take a risk, make a friend. If you often forget to look around, try to remember. If, instead, you repeatedly come on real strong, step back and trust others (I’m trying…). And please send me your feedback, concerns and suggestions. I mean, we are all in this together, aren’t we?
Besides, Jesus said something like, “love your neighbor…”. To everyone.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Holiday sharing…
We had turkey leftovers, of course, the day after Thanksgiving. And they were tasty; my sister had done wonderful work with the bird. Still, my family dined at Burger King the following lunch, which I hesitate to admit, since some would call that fast-food indulgence a terrible moral failing. Perhaps they’re right, particularly since we weren’t there as a Black Friday pit stop. Rather, we made this trip to the BK lounge intentionally, on purpose. Had we sacrificed our culinary integrity on the altar of laziness and french fry dependence? One might think, until learning that my niece was there at work.
Yes, my family forewent day-old turkey sandwiches, an American tradition, in order to order carnivorous delights from seventeen year-old Kayla. Oh, the memories that experience brought to mind! Seeing her sport those BK blue khakis, an over-sized polo shirt, hair pulled back by a floppy visor, surrounding a wispy white hairnet, I recalled the years I spent employed by KFC. An Assistant Manager, I’ll have you know, after only nine months employment. Indeed, by the time I was entering college, I’d had enough such experience that, for a summer, the local Burger King also hired me to manage their morning rush. After which, I’d rest several hours, then work at KFC during dinner. Thus, I made some decent coin that summer, despite my barely over minimum wages. Though it took several weeks, by the end, to clear the grease smell from my car.
And those weren’t the toughest jobs I ever attempted. For several years, every Sunday and on most major holidays, I drove to a local warehouse around 3 AM to help Denver Post delivery personnel. You see, the newspaper would be delivered to that building around then, at which point the carriers would stuff sections together, wrap them with rubber bands and load into vehicles. On weekends, though, the final products were large and heavy, nearly impossible to prepare on tome without help for some more physically challenged employees. Thus, the warehouse boss paid me to assist the folding, bagging, moving, loading, until all had left, when I’d sweep the floors, empty the garbage cans and head home to shower for church. I’ve also cleaned pools in pre-dawn hours, worked as a tire shop errand boy, even tried my hand at home construction for several miserably unsuccessful weeks. All those memories flooded my inner self this recent holiday weekend, watching my family’s next generation begin her own employment journey.
Honestly, I’m glad that my work these days is more often cerebral than physical. I enjoy the writing and creating, building relationships and generating ideas. But as I recently pondered my early experiences, I remembered an oft-overlooked fact: though those jobs could be hard, the hours long, the tasks unwelcome, in every instance, I found joy and purpose. I often loved what I did.
Truly. I had lots of fun; not all the time, but often. Whatever the stereotypes of such work some peddle and mock, I’m glad I had the opportunity in those days to do those jobs. I made friends. I learned resilience. I gained deeper appreciation for others. And the thing that most strikes me now, in this unexpected moment of retrospect, is the powerful ability of so many to laugh and make good out of tough times. I mean, as much as I respect paper carriers, I’ll admit, their job ain’t easy. Still, most mornings in the warehouse, we found time to share jokes, to lighten the mood. That says something, I imagine, about joy residing in the human spirit. Whatever the place, it’s possible to make meaningful connections and share happiness.
So as we ponder this month the Christmas hardships of Mary and Joseph in the manger, the hillside shepherds, the long-traveling magi, to say nothing of all those millions who work hard holiday hours- shipping overnight packages, serving early morning Starbucks, allowing last-minute, late-night gifts- let us give thanks for all who make up our community. And remember that wherever we are, whatever we’re enduring, we can discover joy, as well as share joy with whomever we encounter. Chances are, they’re looking to smile too.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Yes, my family forewent day-old turkey sandwiches, an American tradition, in order to order carnivorous delights from seventeen year-old Kayla. Oh, the memories that experience brought to mind! Seeing her sport those BK blue khakis, an over-sized polo shirt, hair pulled back by a floppy visor, surrounding a wispy white hairnet, I recalled the years I spent employed by KFC. An Assistant Manager, I’ll have you know, after only nine months employment. Indeed, by the time I was entering college, I’d had enough such experience that, for a summer, the local Burger King also hired me to manage their morning rush. After which, I’d rest several hours, then work at KFC during dinner. Thus, I made some decent coin that summer, despite my barely over minimum wages. Though it took several weeks, by the end, to clear the grease smell from my car.
And those weren’t the toughest jobs I ever attempted. For several years, every Sunday and on most major holidays, I drove to a local warehouse around 3 AM to help Denver Post delivery personnel. You see, the newspaper would be delivered to that building around then, at which point the carriers would stuff sections together, wrap them with rubber bands and load into vehicles. On weekends, though, the final products were large and heavy, nearly impossible to prepare on tome without help for some more physically challenged employees. Thus, the warehouse boss paid me to assist the folding, bagging, moving, loading, until all had left, when I’d sweep the floors, empty the garbage cans and head home to shower for church. I’ve also cleaned pools in pre-dawn hours, worked as a tire shop errand boy, even tried my hand at home construction for several miserably unsuccessful weeks. All those memories flooded my inner self this recent holiday weekend, watching my family’s next generation begin her own employment journey.
Honestly, I’m glad that my work these days is more often cerebral than physical. I enjoy the writing and creating, building relationships and generating ideas. But as I recently pondered my early experiences, I remembered an oft-overlooked fact: though those jobs could be hard, the hours long, the tasks unwelcome, in every instance, I found joy and purpose. I often loved what I did.
Truly. I had lots of fun; not all the time, but often. Whatever the stereotypes of such work some peddle and mock, I’m glad I had the opportunity in those days to do those jobs. I made friends. I learned resilience. I gained deeper appreciation for others. And the thing that most strikes me now, in this unexpected moment of retrospect, is the powerful ability of so many to laugh and make good out of tough times. I mean, as much as I respect paper carriers, I’ll admit, their job ain’t easy. Still, most mornings in the warehouse, we found time to share jokes, to lighten the mood. That says something, I imagine, about joy residing in the human spirit. Whatever the place, it’s possible to make meaningful connections and share happiness.
So as we ponder this month the Christmas hardships of Mary and Joseph in the manger, the hillside shepherds, the long-traveling magi, to say nothing of all those millions who work hard holiday hours- shipping overnight packages, serving early morning Starbucks, allowing last-minute, late-night gifts- let us give thanks for all who make up our community. And remember that wherever we are, whatever we’re enduring, we can discover joy, as well as share joy with whomever we encounter. Chances are, they’re looking to smile too.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Monday, November 19, 2012
Visiting friends…
Not infrequently does worship begin at Plymouth Creek with people still filing in the seats or pulling in the parking lot. It used to concern me, until I remembered that occurs at basically every Christian church! Now, I simply smile and wave when someone arrives after the opening song. Many, of course, prefer coming early, taking time to pause and reflect and prepare for worship. Or maybe they enjoy several minutes before service to say hi to friends or greet visitors (shouldn’t we all be excited to greet visitors!). But others would rather squeeze every extra minute of sleep possible, a stance I wholly understand. Or perhaps they’ve other things to do Sunday morning, like finish some work or chores or get kids dressed. The point is, I don’t believe there’s “one way” of coming to worship. Come early, come late, just come and be joyful!
Still, for those who grow concerned when another enters after service begins, they ought do what I did last Friday. I was invited with several others to attend noontime Friday prayers at the Northwestern Islamic Community Center, which in Islamic tradition is much like Sunday mornings for Christians. Muslims, of course, (are supposed to…) pray five times daily at specific times, which is often done alone or with few others. But the Friday noon prayer is when the broader community tries to gather, pray together, hear a sermon, make plans, fellowship. It’s that way throughout the world, I’m told. And in Muslim majority countries, civic society has organized to accommodate the faithful. Many businesses close after Friday morning, or all day, allowing workers and bosses opportunity to attend local Mosques. It’s a different “weekend” than our country, with our historically different religious influences. And because of that, American Muslims find ways to adapt. When your “holy day” isn’t Sunday or Saturday- typical American days off- it’s extra challenging to attend worship while being productive in society.
Which, I suspect, significantly contributed to a distinct feature of last Friday’s prayer service. When it began with a young man singing the traditional Arabic “call to prayer”, the worship space felt barely half-full. A scripture was chanted. The acting imam preached. He stopped to pray, then continued his message, which he told me was typical practice. And all the while, a steady flow of new worshipers entered the room. One by one, they’d remove their shoes then line up beside others. Often, they’d perform two prayer cycles (Muslim prayer involves cycling through several postures, including standing, kneeling and prostrating), before settling in to listen to the speaker. And the service culminated in two communal cycles of prayer, by which point enough had arrived to nearly fill the space.
To this observer, what felt remarkable was how normal that all felt. No one seemed agitated when someone arrived five, ten, twenty minutes after worship began. That person simply slipped into the room, addressed God briefly and personally, then seamlessly joined the community’s activity. What appeared to matter more was that s/he made time during a busy Friday to attend prayers and show support to this faith community.
I don’t know if it’s getting more difficult for all people of faith to carve out time to gather for worship, but sometimes it feels so. Many American Christians (though certainly not all!) are privileged with fewer pressures on Sunday than Muslims on Fridays. But often things arise- sports, work, family- that remind us that taking time for God isn’t always easy. As a pastor, I think it matters. Obviously! But I understand that it can feel like adding to that ever-expanding To-Do List.
So, as a pastor who watched this dynamic play out differently than my normal before my eyes last week, just a few days before Thanksgiving, let me take today simply to say, “Thank You”. To you who weekly, monthly or in your own way regularly pause to acknowledge God and God’s people. I pray you find as much power and refreshment in that experience as I hope. But however you do it, for whatever reason, you have my thanks. And I dare presume God thinks rather fondly on it too.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Still, for those who grow concerned when another enters after service begins, they ought do what I did last Friday. I was invited with several others to attend noontime Friday prayers at the Northwestern Islamic Community Center, which in Islamic tradition is much like Sunday mornings for Christians. Muslims, of course, (are supposed to…) pray five times daily at specific times, which is often done alone or with few others. But the Friday noon prayer is when the broader community tries to gather, pray together, hear a sermon, make plans, fellowship. It’s that way throughout the world, I’m told. And in Muslim majority countries, civic society has organized to accommodate the faithful. Many businesses close after Friday morning, or all day, allowing workers and bosses opportunity to attend local Mosques. It’s a different “weekend” than our country, with our historically different religious influences. And because of that, American Muslims find ways to adapt. When your “holy day” isn’t Sunday or Saturday- typical American days off- it’s extra challenging to attend worship while being productive in society.
Which, I suspect, significantly contributed to a distinct feature of last Friday’s prayer service. When it began with a young man singing the traditional Arabic “call to prayer”, the worship space felt barely half-full. A scripture was chanted. The acting imam preached. He stopped to pray, then continued his message, which he told me was typical practice. And all the while, a steady flow of new worshipers entered the room. One by one, they’d remove their shoes then line up beside others. Often, they’d perform two prayer cycles (Muslim prayer involves cycling through several postures, including standing, kneeling and prostrating), before settling in to listen to the speaker. And the service culminated in two communal cycles of prayer, by which point enough had arrived to nearly fill the space.
To this observer, what felt remarkable was how normal that all felt. No one seemed agitated when someone arrived five, ten, twenty minutes after worship began. That person simply slipped into the room, addressed God briefly and personally, then seamlessly joined the community’s activity. What appeared to matter more was that s/he made time during a busy Friday to attend prayers and show support to this faith community.
I don’t know if it’s getting more difficult for all people of faith to carve out time to gather for worship, but sometimes it feels so. Many American Christians (though certainly not all!) are privileged with fewer pressures on Sunday than Muslims on Fridays. But often things arise- sports, work, family- that remind us that taking time for God isn’t always easy. As a pastor, I think it matters. Obviously! But I understand that it can feel like adding to that ever-expanding To-Do List.
So, as a pastor who watched this dynamic play out differently than my normal before my eyes last week, just a few days before Thanksgiving, let me take today simply to say, “Thank You”. To you who weekly, monthly or in your own way regularly pause to acknowledge God and God’s people. I pray you find as much power and refreshment in that experience as I hope. But however you do it, for whatever reason, you have my thanks. And I dare presume God thinks rather fondly on it too.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Occasional flare…
Again, Thanksgiving’s upon us! And this time, I plan to be ready. I’m traveling with Tabitha and Fawkes to my sister’s house in Kansas. I’ll bring some cooking tools also, probably more than I’ll need. But I intend to force my family to let me make some of the holiday meal. The mashed potatoes, certainly. Perhaps some carrots, a chunky gravy.
Of course, it’s only been a few years since I’ve become a non-embarrassment in the kitchen. My family’s accustomed still to the culinary bumbler they long knew. Thus, I suspect that, were we to get together next week for a weekend barbeque, I wouldn’t need to argue for whether I could take control of a recipe or two. They’d say, “Go for it. Let’s see what you’ve learned.” After all, if I messed up, there’s Papa John’s or India House. Except this isn’t a normal dinner. It’s Thanksgiving! And you just don’t take the risk of your suddenly wannabe Chef Son messing up a holiday feast. Give him some years to watch and learn and prepare.
It’s how holiday cooking has worked for centuries, even. Younger generations learning tricks and traditions from their parents, who learned from their parents, all making slight adjustments when their turn came. So on, down the ages, ideas evolved. As new ingredients were imported, things like cinnamon were added to pumpkin pie. As new technologies arose, things like blenders made making smooth gravy much quicker. Yet because these meals mattered more than most- holidays that brought occasional flare to all-too-often bare and simple tables- the evolution was slow, changes took time, traditions held strongly.
It you’re now asking, “Shane, why does that matter?” I want you to reread those sentences, but imagine we’re talking about religion. Go ahead. I’ll wait. You done? Great. Sounds like a related process, doesn’t it? At least, that’s my theory: cooking and religion are often the same. Especially when it comes to big moments, holiday feasts! I’ve attended Christmas services at Evangelical churches who pride themselves on using only up-to-date, hipster music. Yet on those oh-so-holy nights, the churches sang Joy to the World and such. Sure, the instrumentation was more current than organ and bells. Nevertheless, some things, I guess, you just don’t mess with.
Or rather, you only mess with over long periods of time. I mean, it’s also true that Jesus’ followers didn’t sing Silent Night, right? Instead, they celebrated festivals that evolved over centuries of Jewish observance; Passover, Booths, Pentecost, Yom Kippur, which in turn were adapted from earlier cultures and traditions. Over intervening centuries, many things happened that changed the meanings of these Jewish festivals- the Exodus from Egypt, the Exile in Babylon, the takeover of Jewish homelands by Rome. Then, for Christians, Passover became something quite transformed when thought of in light of Jesus. Yet just like Jesus, for awhile, they honored ancient tradition and performed familiar rituals.
You know the saying: the only thing that never changes is that everything changes? That’s true enough, I imagine, however slowly most important changes take. In an age like ours, such measured speeds can feel glacial even, particularly when compared with how quickly some new things change. Flashier, faster iPhones come out yearly now. E-readers and laptops get both smaller and more powerful. Why haven’t we figured out world peace, then?! Or, at least, a perfect way to make turkey gravy every time, with little fuss and less cleaning?! The Holidays are good reminders that, however true it is that all things will pass, you don’t mess with some important things without due deliberation.
So it is I’ll head to Thanksgiving with my new potato ricer and flashy wand blender, demanding to mash potatoes but not daring to roast the turkey. I may say, “Hey Mom, perhaps we ought try brining it this year?” But if we don’t, whatever. She’s Mom; she’s got it covered. And when it’s my turn to take over, eventually, I’ll be glad she passed on what she knew.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Of course, it’s only been a few years since I’ve become a non-embarrassment in the kitchen. My family’s accustomed still to the culinary bumbler they long knew. Thus, I suspect that, were we to get together next week for a weekend barbeque, I wouldn’t need to argue for whether I could take control of a recipe or two. They’d say, “Go for it. Let’s see what you’ve learned.” After all, if I messed up, there’s Papa John’s or India House. Except this isn’t a normal dinner. It’s Thanksgiving! And you just don’t take the risk of your suddenly wannabe Chef Son messing up a holiday feast. Give him some years to watch and learn and prepare.
It’s how holiday cooking has worked for centuries, even. Younger generations learning tricks and traditions from their parents, who learned from their parents, all making slight adjustments when their turn came. So on, down the ages, ideas evolved. As new ingredients were imported, things like cinnamon were added to pumpkin pie. As new technologies arose, things like blenders made making smooth gravy much quicker. Yet because these meals mattered more than most- holidays that brought occasional flare to all-too-often bare and simple tables- the evolution was slow, changes took time, traditions held strongly.
It you’re now asking, “Shane, why does that matter?” I want you to reread those sentences, but imagine we’re talking about religion. Go ahead. I’ll wait. You done? Great. Sounds like a related process, doesn’t it? At least, that’s my theory: cooking and religion are often the same. Especially when it comes to big moments, holiday feasts! I’ve attended Christmas services at Evangelical churches who pride themselves on using only up-to-date, hipster music. Yet on those oh-so-holy nights, the churches sang Joy to the World and such. Sure, the instrumentation was more current than organ and bells. Nevertheless, some things, I guess, you just don’t mess with.
Or rather, you only mess with over long periods of time. I mean, it’s also true that Jesus’ followers didn’t sing Silent Night, right? Instead, they celebrated festivals that evolved over centuries of Jewish observance; Passover, Booths, Pentecost, Yom Kippur, which in turn were adapted from earlier cultures and traditions. Over intervening centuries, many things happened that changed the meanings of these Jewish festivals- the Exodus from Egypt, the Exile in Babylon, the takeover of Jewish homelands by Rome. Then, for Christians, Passover became something quite transformed when thought of in light of Jesus. Yet just like Jesus, for awhile, they honored ancient tradition and performed familiar rituals.
You know the saying: the only thing that never changes is that everything changes? That’s true enough, I imagine, however slowly most important changes take. In an age like ours, such measured speeds can feel glacial even, particularly when compared with how quickly some new things change. Flashier, faster iPhones come out yearly now. E-readers and laptops get both smaller and more powerful. Why haven’t we figured out world peace, then?! Or, at least, a perfect way to make turkey gravy every time, with little fuss and less cleaning?! The Holidays are good reminders that, however true it is that all things will pass, you don’t mess with some important things without due deliberation.
So it is I’ll head to Thanksgiving with my new potato ricer and flashy wand blender, demanding to mash potatoes but not daring to roast the turkey. I may say, “Hey Mom, perhaps we ought try brining it this year?” But if we don’t, whatever. She’s Mom; she’s got it covered. And when it’s my turn to take over, eventually, I’ll be glad she passed on what she knew.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, November 8, 2012
As one…
This Sunday marks the first of several experiments over the next few months. Specifically, we’re welcoming Rev. Dr. Ewen Holmes- Senior Pastor of nearby Plymouth Presbyterian Church- into our pulpit, while I’ll be at his church laying down the good Word. Pastor Ewen and I arrived in Plymouth within a month of each other. We’ve connected through IOCP, along with other similar minded pastors. Enjoying those relationships, we grab lunch or breakfast regularly. And a few months back, someone said, “Let’s do a pulpit exchange.”
Thus it is a (gasp!) Presbyterian will brave a Disciples church!
Honestly, I love the symbolism of this preaching swap the Sunday after national elections. For, if you recall, Disciples began as rebel Presbyterians. Many of our founders trained for ministry in the Presbyterian fold. Two heavyweights- Thomas and Alexander Campbell- were even from Scotland. In the early 1800s, in fact, Alexander attended seminary at the University of Edinburgh, while his father Thomas looked for work in the US. Soon, though, Thomas was fighting with local ministers and church authorities, and around 1809, declared himself a “free agent”. You ask Disciples, it’s because he’d awoken to the need for churches to forget denominational allegiance, and work for unity among the ever-more fragmenting faithful. You ask Presbyterians of that time, Thomas Campbell was an arrogant, stubborn glory-hound!
Honestly, Disciples partisan though I may be, neither story’s fully accurate. What’s most revealing, rather, is that this splinter occurred on the so-called frontier around twenty years after America’s War of Independence. In other words, freedom, autonomy and individual initiative were in the air. Especially in rural farms and small towns up and down Ohio and Kentucky- i.e. exactly where the break occurred. At the time, tempers were high: “You’re heretics!” “You’re demonic!” For all his talk of unity, Thomas Campbell likely wouldn’t have invited Presbyterian ministers into his pulpit, nor ascended one of theirs.
Two centuries later, though, it’s not only a non-issue, I even think our denominations should just merge. Probably won’t happen for a while, but we’ve really got lots in common. They could be probably teach us about organization and thoughtful planning. We could offer insights into freedom of expression and doctrinal creativity. Whatever the case, we aren’t the same church, but it’s easy enough to act as one. To swap pulpit, merge youth groups, perhaps work together in mission and service…?!
As I said, it’s a potent symbol days after the country votes. Our denomination began as an off-shot of the Presbyterian Church. Our founders railed and harangued, gave and got much abuse. Yet their heirs in faith, now, are working together and enjoying it. Not only in Plymouth, but around the country and world. I know a Disciples minister on staff of a Presbyterian church in Lexington, KY. We’ve partnered for disaster relief and missionary efforts across the globe. In other words, unity- not division nor animosity- have become our long-term trajectory. Our country, I suspect, could learn from that.
I suspect on Sunday the 11th, all sides of the political spectrum will still be elated or downtrodden. Exuberant at their sides’ prospects or anxious over their preferred partisans’ losses. We might even feel something of both within our spirits, if, say, we pick with the majority on one question but ‘lose’ on another. It could be easy, therefore, to devolve into a game of boasting and blaming, of vilifying your victorious opponents or gloating over the ‘losers.’ But the ultimate hope is that in country- as much, I pray, as in church- the long-term trajectory ought be unity, not division.
Even if that seems tough, given the current cultural atmosphere, oneness is neither naïve nor undesirable. Thomas and Alexander Campbell, and other Disciples of Christ founders, may’ve wanted unity, but didn’t achieve it in their lifetimes. Yet here we are- 2012- in Plymouth, Minnesota, receiving blessings from a blessed neighbor, a wise preacher, a...Presbyterian!
I pray you find Pastor Ewen as profound and engaging as I’ve come to regard him. After all, when we put unity before division, togetherness before denigration, it turns out we’ve all got many great gifts to receive and share.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Thus it is a (gasp!) Presbyterian will brave a Disciples church!
Honestly, I love the symbolism of this preaching swap the Sunday after national elections. For, if you recall, Disciples began as rebel Presbyterians. Many of our founders trained for ministry in the Presbyterian fold. Two heavyweights- Thomas and Alexander Campbell- were even from Scotland. In the early 1800s, in fact, Alexander attended seminary at the University of Edinburgh, while his father Thomas looked for work in the US. Soon, though, Thomas was fighting with local ministers and church authorities, and around 1809, declared himself a “free agent”. You ask Disciples, it’s because he’d awoken to the need for churches to forget denominational allegiance, and work for unity among the ever-more fragmenting faithful. You ask Presbyterians of that time, Thomas Campbell was an arrogant, stubborn glory-hound!
Honestly, Disciples partisan though I may be, neither story’s fully accurate. What’s most revealing, rather, is that this splinter occurred on the so-called frontier around twenty years after America’s War of Independence. In other words, freedom, autonomy and individual initiative were in the air. Especially in rural farms and small towns up and down Ohio and Kentucky- i.e. exactly where the break occurred. At the time, tempers were high: “You’re heretics!” “You’re demonic!” For all his talk of unity, Thomas Campbell likely wouldn’t have invited Presbyterian ministers into his pulpit, nor ascended one of theirs.
Two centuries later, though, it’s not only a non-issue, I even think our denominations should just merge. Probably won’t happen for a while, but we’ve really got lots in common. They could be probably teach us about organization and thoughtful planning. We could offer insights into freedom of expression and doctrinal creativity. Whatever the case, we aren’t the same church, but it’s easy enough to act as one. To swap pulpit, merge youth groups, perhaps work together in mission and service…?!
As I said, it’s a potent symbol days after the country votes. Our denomination began as an off-shot of the Presbyterian Church. Our founders railed and harangued, gave and got much abuse. Yet their heirs in faith, now, are working together and enjoying it. Not only in Plymouth, but around the country and world. I know a Disciples minister on staff of a Presbyterian church in Lexington, KY. We’ve partnered for disaster relief and missionary efforts across the globe. In other words, unity- not division nor animosity- have become our long-term trajectory. Our country, I suspect, could learn from that.
I suspect on Sunday the 11th, all sides of the political spectrum will still be elated or downtrodden. Exuberant at their sides’ prospects or anxious over their preferred partisans’ losses. We might even feel something of both within our spirits, if, say, we pick with the majority on one question but ‘lose’ on another. It could be easy, therefore, to devolve into a game of boasting and blaming, of vilifying your victorious opponents or gloating over the ‘losers.’ But the ultimate hope is that in country- as much, I pray, as in church- the long-term trajectory ought be unity, not division.
Even if that seems tough, given the current cultural atmosphere, oneness is neither naïve nor undesirable. Thomas and Alexander Campbell, and other Disciples of Christ founders, may’ve wanted unity, but didn’t achieve it in their lifetimes. Yet here we are- 2012- in Plymouth, Minnesota, receiving blessings from a blessed neighbor, a wise preacher, a...Presbyterian!
I pray you find Pastor Ewen as profound and engaging as I’ve come to regard him. After all, when we put unity before division, togetherness before denigration, it turns out we’ve all got many great gifts to receive and share.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Equality…
I’ve struggled for months now with whether or not to write this letter. As a Disciples of Christ minister, I believe fundamentally in unity. We avoid doctrinal litmus tests for membership in our faith community. We can believe different ideas- about God, the Bible, Jesus- and yet still, by the unconquerable grace of God, be one.
As a consequence, I also believe that all are welcome at Christ’s Table. No matter who you are, what you’ve done, where you come from, you are welcomed, by Jesus. Nothing is more critical, more inspiring to my religious identity than that declaration. I desire, I need to live as openly as I can muster; to invite myself and others to receive the eternally renewing love of God.
Which is why I intend, on November 6, to vote against the Minnesota amendment to limit our state constitution’s definition of marriage. You know the issue. A ballot question will ask us to affirm that marriage in our state should be constricted only to heterosexual men and women. Some Christian communities, of course, have strongly advocated support for that ballot question. They’re convinced that faithful Christianity only endorses marriage for one man and one woman. As I’ve preached to you before, I grew up in such churches. However, during high school, one of my best friends and Christian mentors came out of closet. She told her family and Christian community that she was a lesbian. And they condemned her. Called her evil. Basically kicked her out of the community of grace.
So I was, initially, unsure how to respond. I’d been taught that I too should reject my friend’s declaration. The Bible, in a few instances, seems to denigrate homosexual behavior. Yet in many, many more instances, it celebrates the supernatural reality of love. Indeed, 1 John claims that, “God is love,” seemingly lauding all occasions of authentic love as divine. And I love my lesbian friend. She loves her wife. Ultimately, then, I faced a choice: support the traditional view of marriage and sexuality or support my friend’s love.
I chose love. I still do. I can’t imagine Jesus denying God’s hospitality to gay women or men, to anyone. Yet I know my view on this issue isn’t shared by all my sisters and brothers of faith. To some extent, that troubles me. Don’t we all want others to agree with us?! To another extent, though, I accept that my views aren’t, and shouldn’t be, the final word. Plus, I’m the pastor of wonderful people who don’t always see eye-to-eye. You have diverse spiritual beliefs, political convictions, and I’m so very glad that’s true. So few places in our fragmented society can people of differing viewpoints still come together. Thank God we Disciples declare unity our Polar Star!
So I’ve worried that expressing my personal view on this issue would cause division or disrupt the good work we do. I mean, it’s one thing if a church member says something to another during fellowship hour. But it feels more consequential for the pastor to stake out a potentially controversial position. Nevertheless, I’ve battled a need to be authentic. With you. With myself. Before God. And because I’m concerned with what I see as the demeaning consequences of this vote, I simply felt I can’t be silent. I want all God’s children to be accepted.
I know that political issues are often, and perhaps for good reason, avoided in our community. Our church members will vote for different presidential candidates, political policies and parties. While I believe strongly in the votes I’ll cast, I respect those who differ from me. Because I know you, and love you, and believe you’re voting what you think is right and holy and good. Even if it’s different from me. Even if you vote in favor of this amendment.
But I also believe that Christians shouldn’t fear to speak their minds. And I’m convinced that if we enshrined in our state constitution a definition of marriage that the only acceptable kind was heterosexual, man and woman, then we’d limit the equality of love that God intended. To me, that’s a direct consequence of my most fundamental belief: God is love.
If you agree with me, please vote No with me. If you’re unsure, please call. I’d love to talk. If you don’t agree, then vote against me. I support your decision to follow your own conscience. But in all things, I pray we stay focused on the everlasting power that unites us always- The grace and blessing of our resurrected Savior, Light of the World, God of Love.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
As a consequence, I also believe that all are welcome at Christ’s Table. No matter who you are, what you’ve done, where you come from, you are welcomed, by Jesus. Nothing is more critical, more inspiring to my religious identity than that declaration. I desire, I need to live as openly as I can muster; to invite myself and others to receive the eternally renewing love of God.
Which is why I intend, on November 6, to vote against the Minnesota amendment to limit our state constitution’s definition of marriage. You know the issue. A ballot question will ask us to affirm that marriage in our state should be constricted only to heterosexual men and women. Some Christian communities, of course, have strongly advocated support for that ballot question. They’re convinced that faithful Christianity only endorses marriage for one man and one woman. As I’ve preached to you before, I grew up in such churches. However, during high school, one of my best friends and Christian mentors came out of closet. She told her family and Christian community that she was a lesbian. And they condemned her. Called her evil. Basically kicked her out of the community of grace.
So I was, initially, unsure how to respond. I’d been taught that I too should reject my friend’s declaration. The Bible, in a few instances, seems to denigrate homosexual behavior. Yet in many, many more instances, it celebrates the supernatural reality of love. Indeed, 1 John claims that, “God is love,” seemingly lauding all occasions of authentic love as divine. And I love my lesbian friend. She loves her wife. Ultimately, then, I faced a choice: support the traditional view of marriage and sexuality or support my friend’s love.
I chose love. I still do. I can’t imagine Jesus denying God’s hospitality to gay women or men, to anyone. Yet I know my view on this issue isn’t shared by all my sisters and brothers of faith. To some extent, that troubles me. Don’t we all want others to agree with us?! To another extent, though, I accept that my views aren’t, and shouldn’t be, the final word. Plus, I’m the pastor of wonderful people who don’t always see eye-to-eye. You have diverse spiritual beliefs, political convictions, and I’m so very glad that’s true. So few places in our fragmented society can people of differing viewpoints still come together. Thank God we Disciples declare unity our Polar Star!
So I’ve worried that expressing my personal view on this issue would cause division or disrupt the good work we do. I mean, it’s one thing if a church member says something to another during fellowship hour. But it feels more consequential for the pastor to stake out a potentially controversial position. Nevertheless, I’ve battled a need to be authentic. With you. With myself. Before God. And because I’m concerned with what I see as the demeaning consequences of this vote, I simply felt I can’t be silent. I want all God’s children to be accepted.
I know that political issues are often, and perhaps for good reason, avoided in our community. Our church members will vote for different presidential candidates, political policies and parties. While I believe strongly in the votes I’ll cast, I respect those who differ from me. Because I know you, and love you, and believe you’re voting what you think is right and holy and good. Even if it’s different from me. Even if you vote in favor of this amendment.
But I also believe that Christians shouldn’t fear to speak their minds. And I’m convinced that if we enshrined in our state constitution a definition of marriage that the only acceptable kind was heterosexual, man and woman, then we’d limit the equality of love that God intended. To me, that’s a direct consequence of my most fundamental belief: God is love.
If you agree with me, please vote No with me. If you’re unsure, please call. I’d love to talk. If you don’t agree, then vote against me. I support your decision to follow your own conscience. But in all things, I pray we stay focused on the everlasting power that unites us always- The grace and blessing of our resurrected Savior, Light of the World, God of Love.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Raising voices…
Soccer fans, the world over, love to sing. In pubs after games. In, well, pubs before games. And during games especially, at the stadiums, loudly. Fans create lyrics to popular ditties that celebrate their favored teams’ prowess, or mock chosen rivals. They raise their voices constantly, broken only by rare moments when players actually score. You can hear this tumult during soccer broadcasts, a perpetual hum beneath TV announcers. As a soccer fan, I love the spectacle. I’d sing along if I knew the words!
Well, a few weeks back, the USA national soccer team was playing. And as per usual at sporting events, just before kickoff, someone sang the national anthem. You know the drill. A person on the field belts The Star Spangled Banner with gusto. The home crowd might sing along, but barely audible, right? Usually the solo performer controls the tempo, the pitch, holding “Land of the Freeeee” longer than necessary. Sometimes the performance is understated. Sometimes it’s defiantly unique. But always, Always, the solo performer carries the song.
Except in this instance. At this game, the Kansas City crowd acted like…soccer fans. They sang along to the national anthem. Loudly. Brazenly. Thus, they utterly ignored the unspoken expectation that the on-field singer controls the singing. It was almost comical, if you ask me. The singer set one tempo, the crowd followed, until the singer slowed down for a run of vocal gymnastics. Meaning suddenly, she was totally out-of-synch with the crowd, who lumbered along. A kind of vocal battle ensued. The singer kept on as planned, forcing the fans back in step, until another miscommunication occurred and another readjustment was required. It was as surreal a national anthem as I’ve ever witnessed.
And it seemed like an unplanned metaphor worth me reading too much into. For isn’t life frequently styled a conflict between individual initiative and crowd mentality? On the one hand is the lone singer, the heroically creative savant. S/he bucks the trend, tries something new, overwhelms the masses through brilliance. On the other hand is the teeming throng, following the beat of a boring drummer. Slovenly devoted to the status quo, this collective deplores inventiveness.
Shane, you’ll say, that’s waaaay too simple a diagnosis of modern society. And you’re right, but it’s believed by many. Besides, it helps me make a point… Which is that I believe something that’s possible- not pervasive, but it happens- is that sometimes a crowd creates something spectacular. Creativity, in other words, can be as communal as it can be singular. Take Wikipedia. It’s a publicly controlled encyclopedia where anyone’s allowed to edit and input information. Some deplore this ‘open source’ method as obviously susceptible to error. Yet some studies found that in many instances it’s as reliable as Encyclopedia Britannica. When writing research papers, you should use more academic sources. But as a quick primer on unknown subjects, free-to-use Wikipedia’s quite useful.
Or take religion. Many believe that religious ideas result primarily from lone champions. Paul. St. Francis. Mother Theresa. I, too, celebrate these faith heroes, but the whole story is bigger. It’s also one of communities discovering new avenues of spirituality and compassion, together. Like Disciples on the American frontier, coming together for the sake of Unity. Like bunches of African-American churches, working together for Civil Rights. In both instances, celebrated leaders often get the credit. But Barton Stone and MKL Jr. wouldn’t have been as effective without creative crowds urging them on.
Which is why, for at least that one game, I’d have loved if this happened: Once the national anthem singer realized that this crowd was so excited to sing, so excited to support their team, so energized to laud their nation that they sang loudly, proudly, together, as one, then rather than raise her voice above their voices, rather than struggle for Star Spangled supremacy, she dropped the mic, smiled at the stands and joined the communal singing. It wouldn’t have solved our country’s disgusting divisiveness. It wouldn’t have redefined the national anthem. But for that moment, it would’ve symbolized that beautiful things can happen when we work as one.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Well, a few weeks back, the USA national soccer team was playing. And as per usual at sporting events, just before kickoff, someone sang the national anthem. You know the drill. A person on the field belts The Star Spangled Banner with gusto. The home crowd might sing along, but barely audible, right? Usually the solo performer controls the tempo, the pitch, holding “Land of the Freeeee” longer than necessary. Sometimes the performance is understated. Sometimes it’s defiantly unique. But always, Always, the solo performer carries the song.
Except in this instance. At this game, the Kansas City crowd acted like…soccer fans. They sang along to the national anthem. Loudly. Brazenly. Thus, they utterly ignored the unspoken expectation that the on-field singer controls the singing. It was almost comical, if you ask me. The singer set one tempo, the crowd followed, until the singer slowed down for a run of vocal gymnastics. Meaning suddenly, she was totally out-of-synch with the crowd, who lumbered along. A kind of vocal battle ensued. The singer kept on as planned, forcing the fans back in step, until another miscommunication occurred and another readjustment was required. It was as surreal a national anthem as I’ve ever witnessed.
And it seemed like an unplanned metaphor worth me reading too much into. For isn’t life frequently styled a conflict between individual initiative and crowd mentality? On the one hand is the lone singer, the heroically creative savant. S/he bucks the trend, tries something new, overwhelms the masses through brilliance. On the other hand is the teeming throng, following the beat of a boring drummer. Slovenly devoted to the status quo, this collective deplores inventiveness.
Shane, you’ll say, that’s waaaay too simple a diagnosis of modern society. And you’re right, but it’s believed by many. Besides, it helps me make a point… Which is that I believe something that’s possible- not pervasive, but it happens- is that sometimes a crowd creates something spectacular. Creativity, in other words, can be as communal as it can be singular. Take Wikipedia. It’s a publicly controlled encyclopedia where anyone’s allowed to edit and input information. Some deplore this ‘open source’ method as obviously susceptible to error. Yet some studies found that in many instances it’s as reliable as Encyclopedia Britannica. When writing research papers, you should use more academic sources. But as a quick primer on unknown subjects, free-to-use Wikipedia’s quite useful.
Or take religion. Many believe that religious ideas result primarily from lone champions. Paul. St. Francis. Mother Theresa. I, too, celebrate these faith heroes, but the whole story is bigger. It’s also one of communities discovering new avenues of spirituality and compassion, together. Like Disciples on the American frontier, coming together for the sake of Unity. Like bunches of African-American churches, working together for Civil Rights. In both instances, celebrated leaders often get the credit. But Barton Stone and MKL Jr. wouldn’t have been as effective without creative crowds urging them on.
Which is why, for at least that one game, I’d have loved if this happened: Once the national anthem singer realized that this crowd was so excited to sing, so excited to support their team, so energized to laud their nation that they sang loudly, proudly, together, as one, then rather than raise her voice above their voices, rather than struggle for Star Spangled supremacy, she dropped the mic, smiled at the stands and joined the communal singing. It wouldn’t have solved our country’s disgusting divisiveness. It wouldn’t have redefined the national anthem. But for that moment, it would’ve symbolized that beautiful things can happen when we work as one.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
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