Strictly business,

As part of a Collegeville Institute fellowship I received, I spent last Monday and Tuesday meeting with other new-ish Minneapolis pastors and several Minnesota business leaders. The goal was to learn more about this sector of civil society and discern connections with religion. The conversations were full, enlightening and challenging. I slept hard when I got home!

Some of you already knew I was doing this, because of one advance homework assignment. I was required to identify three “business people” in my congregation, and ask them questions about their work and its relationship to faith. I’ll admit- I loved those conversations! I think they did too… We sat together over coffee for an hour each time. I asked things like, “When did/do you find joy in your business life?”, “Is this a calling?”, “What challenges does business face these days?” And it turns out- unsurprising I’m sure- we have some profound and faithful business folk in our church, my friends!

Indeed, I enjoyed myself so much, I wanted to “interview” more than those three. Alas, between the holidays and other stuff, I couldn’t get to everyone. Still, even though my assignment is done, I’d love to keep the practice going. So here’s an open invitation- I’ll buy the coffee if you want to chat with me about your business (or non-profit, or education, or government, or “family engineering”- as they call homemakers these days) pursuits and how faith plays a role. I know I’ll learn something, and maybe you will too. How often do you take time to explore those connections in depth? If you’re like most people, I’d guess infrequently. We usually talk about other things…

But we needn’t avoid the topic. Our PCCC folk and the business leaders my group met with last week shared a conviction that (at least, some of) what each did in their workaday lives held greater meaning than earning money. You know the caricature, surely, that working people suffer through their daily grind so they can finance what they really care about. I know that’s real for some. Their job isn’t some grand “calling,” but just what they can find right now that pays. And that’s totally fine. Indeed, the most important stuff for most of us- family, God, the Broncos- lays mostly beyond our employment.

Nevertheless, even for some folk who don’t like their jobs, opportunities for deeper meaning abound. Take an example I heard from several folk, none of whom claimed a great passion for their particular industry of employment. Yet situations arose where they had challenges to solve, and they enjoyed rising to meet those challenges. Or they had chances to impact others on their team, and they enjoyed helping those others do better. When asked, they claimed that these experiences brought additional satisfaction to their work, above and beyond the paycheck. And even if other parts of their jobs were numbing or brutal, there was more to the full story.

That shouldn’t surprise us. Wise theologians describe humans as “meaning making machines.” We created to not simply slog through our lives. It’s in our spiritual DNA to search for more... from our relationships with our coworkers, if possible, beyond complaining about our boss. More joy in what we do, when possible, beyond the fact it’s over when we clock out. If we can make a positive difference in another’s life- a client, customer, partner- we strive to do so, at least we can. And as Christians, who believe that every moment holds a possibility for grace, and who claim God’s loving presence throughout the week (not just Sunday), we should strive for that. We should take whatever we’re blessed to do nor and invest as much meaning into it as possible. Whether that’s sales or management, working at the local video store or being blissfully retired, God is with you and hopes you see that, not to mention help others see it too.

Anyway, you can tell I enjoyed those conversations, and I’m looking forward to…more. Seriously, call me. We’ll chat. I’m anxious to hear how God is present with you!

Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!

Inner Voice…

Many of you remember Tom Benninga; a kind, gruff, dear member of our church when I first arrived. It’s been a few years since he’s passed from our care into God’s eternal peace, but I still find myself thinking about Tom every now and then. It happens each December as we use the Advent Wreath he made for us. It wasn’t expected by anyone, simply arrived one day. “Thought you’d like it,” he said. Yup.

I also remember Tom sometimes during our pastoral prayers, given something he used to tell me. In his characteristic straightforward fashion, Tom said, “Shane, something preachers just don’t understand is that God doesn’t think they’re more holy if they lower their voices during prayer.” That made me laugh. “Are you trying to say something to me Tom,” I’d ask. “Absolutely. When you pray, your voice gets softer. I can’t hear it. Speak up!”

Thankfully, this advice came my way less often over the years. I hope I took his criticism well, but do let me know when I’m not speaking fully. Unfortunately, when Tom’s health began declining, he couldn’t make it on Sundays anymore. Still, I’d stop by his home or we’d chat on the phone, and how well people heard in worship was never far from his mind. In fact, one of the last conversations we had, while he lay in a North Memorial hospital bed, was about hearing assistance tools he’d been researching. Electronic magazines lay on the sheets and floor. He cared deeply about whether folk with hearing challenges could fully participate in worship. And when they struggled, he believed, it was our church’s responsibility to try and help.

I think that’s right- Christian hospitality requires consideration for those needing help. So over the years, Al and I kept looking into various options for assisting members and guests suffering hearing decline or trouble.
But nothing seemed doable. Well, until last December. That’s when I learned of a system that channels sound from our sound system directly into the hearing aids of people in the sanctuary. It’s called a “Hearing Loop System,” and it’s been so effective for congregations that our denomination voted at our last General Assembly to encourage churches to explore the option. In fact, our region developed a grant program for Upper Midwest churches to receive financial assistance if they wanted to install one in their facilities. Our Regional Minister encouraged me to apply.

Given such high recommendations, I talked with the Board and several of you about exploring that option. It sounded intriguing to many, but being so new, we felt we’d need to try it out before investing. Graciously, someone donated money allowing us to do exactly that, which involves inviting a couple who install Hearing Loops in churches as a full-time ministry to set-up a temporary system in our sanctuary for us to demo during worship one Sunday. That way, folk can experience what it will sound like to hear directly what’s said into our microphones, rather than require sound to filter through the air and background noise into their hearing aids, which often doesn’t work. Also, they’ll bring separate devices (with headphones) for folk to use who have hearing trouble but either no hearing aids or aids that don’t work with Hearing Loop systems (it requires a telecoil or t-coil setting that is turned on; call your doctor or hearing aid company if you don’t know, but apparently most new hearing aids use this technology).

And the Sunday for this demo is this Sunday, January 12. So if you’ve had trouble hearing me or whomever during worship or use hearing aids, please make a special point to be in worship this week. Other churches have described people crying when they’ve used this system, for being able to hear finally for the first time in years. But whether it works for us at a cost we can afford will depend on the feedback we receive. And if this isn’t it, we’ll look elsewhere. Tom’s voice remains a good one to heed. If we can help people worship God better, we should. What else is more important to church?

Grace and Peace,
Shane
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Resolutions…

So one of the unintended but entirely welcome consequences of my sabbatical was the loss of something like fifteen pounds from my waist area. Chalk that up to several factors during my time in Sarajevo. Without a car, I walked its streets every day sightseeing and shopping and doing whatever else. I think my average was 2-3 miles per day. Plus, the city sits below several lovely mountains, making those aforementioned streets quite hilly. Further, I ate less food in Bosnia than I usually do here, and what I did eat was local vegetables and good bread and quality meat. Only once or twice did something processed snacks or potato chips enter my diet. Finally, I added some push-ups and sit-ups to my morning routine. The end result? A much healthier pastor, whose clothes fit noticeably easier.

Today, well, things have…what’s the word…changed. It’s funny how easy the pounds return when life reverts to previous patterns. I kept up some of the exercise when I came back; walked less but ran more. Alas, Minnesota weather has a way of dissuading many a jogger as fall turns to winter, and I’m sitting here now, anticipating Christmas, aware that my weight loss is now lost.

But no matter, I tell myself. I shall not be defeated! I did it before. I’ll do it again. A new day can arrive! To be clearer, I mean a new year has come, and with it, that brilliant tradition of annual resolutions. Mine for 2014 will certainly include a return to last summer’s svelter, smaller me.
I read recently that the Roman god after whom they named January (Janus) was sometimes depicted with two heads. One looking back, into the past. Another peering into the future. It makes sense they’d have made resolutions upon the start of his month, right? To resolve something includes reviewing where you’ve been and what’s occurred. Perhaps something didn’t go as planned, or desired, and that makes you less than fully happy. Yet a resolution implies more than insightful analysis into what was. It also presumes hope that what will be can be different, if you work for it. Without a look back, your resolution is, basically, meaningless. Without a glance ahead, you simply remain stuck. Honesty and hope. Two basic ingredients of good resolutions.

Coincidentally, or not, they’re also two ingredients to good living. The kind of full, faithful, excited life to the fullest for which Jesus was born to us (John 10:10). So this January, we’re going to think as a church together about resolutions, from God’s perspective. After all, as you read scripture, they pop up all over the place. The word we typically use for them is “promises,” but that’s essentially the same thing, right? Peter promised to stand by Jesus at his time of trial. Oops. God promised to be with Moses as he stood up to Pharaoh. Well done. Some resolutions in scripture are weird and tragic; others are the basic building blocks of faith. In whatever form they come, though, they’re important, and we’ll explore that dynamic together.

You know one thing that scripture says and that modern science agrees with about resolutions? It’s that they work best- i.e. you don’t break them!- if they’re made and shared in community. That’s one of the basic reason I attend (and work for) church, and not sit at home being spiritual alone. The accountability you all give me for my resolution to serve God helps me, in fact, serve God. So thanks for that, and for acting as community to my earlier weight loss resolution. Maybe you’ll be bold enough to share yours too…?! There’s still time. Happy New Year!

Grace and Peace,
Shane
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"Intern-al Communications" (a message from our intern)

Merry Christmas! We celebrated the long awaited for arrival of the birth of the Messiah through this Advent Season. The Son of God who has come to set the people free…is here! God has heard his people, the time of captivity is over!

The people that journeyed with us in this Advent Season - Joseph, Mary, the Shepherds, Simeon, all of us had or has a story of longing, of hope, of praying to for to be heard and our lives to be lifted up out of the hole of oppression that we have experienced, somewhere, sometime in our lives.

The common thread that has linked all of us in this story is that we have all experienced an oppression, an experience in life that tells us that we are “just not good enough”.

For those in the Newer Testament, being Jewish was reason enough to be held in captivity, slavery, oppression, a lesser class than the Romans. Because they were “less than”, the ruling class (the Romans) could devalue them, dehumanize them, and then demonize them.
Many of us have experienced a similar encounter with being “less than”. For women, some of the oppressions have been the right to be heard and respected as full human beings, for the right to vote, to say “no” to an oppressor, to hold office in public or private work, to have control over your own body, and to have a say in these matters regarding reproductive rights.

For African-Americans, there are many similar experience, and overlapping experiences of oppression as well. Some of the oppressions have been the right to be heard and respected, as full human beings, for the right to vote, to say “no to an oppressor”, to hold office in public or private work, to have control over your own body, and to have a say in these matters regarding reproductive rights. (I think back to when the white society deemed it permissible to control, through experiments, the birthing process through sterilization)

For those who find themselves to be Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, again, similar experiences. Some of the oppressions have been the right to be heard and respected as full human beings, the right to say “no” to an oppressor, to hold office in public or private work as an “out” G,L,B,T person (which is illegal in many states yet today) to have control over your own body, the right to marry another person of the same gender (which is still illegal in many states and at the Federal level).

For those who find themselves to be with mental health or addiction challenges. They encounter many of the same experiences of not being fully human. I think of many friends who, having struggles with substances, were told to “pray that God heal you” or to just “not do that behavior any more”, like they had power over these challenges. Their right to be heard and respected, to be able to hold office in public or private work, the right to vote, the right to have control over their own bodies, the right to have a say in reproductive rights.

The “good news” of the birth of Jesus, is that he came for all of us, not just some, but for all of us, that we all might know the love that God has for all of His children! He has come to show us the way, to set us all free from the oppression and slavery that we have been experiencing.

As followers of Jesus, we are invited to be receptive to the working of the Holy Spirit, as Joseph, Mary, the Shepherds, and Simeon were in their time. To allow God to “break through” this slavery and oppression and set us free! But the work continues on, for God’s love compels us to pray and work so that all people, wherever they are, can experience God hearing and responding to them in their lives. How does God accomplish this, through us! Yes, God is showing up in us, through us, as us in this world! The great work begins!
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Creative designs…

We live in a weird world; a crazy and wild, weird world. It is beautiful, awe-inspiring, breathtaking, and weird.

A book I finished last week drove this point home to me. It’s called Parallel Worlds, written by renowned physicist Michio Kaku, and is basically “Advanced Physics for Dummies,” for those without years studying high-level math. I took college-level intro physics, so some of this book’s ideas were familiar. But he wanted his readers to move well beyond the basic stuff I once struggled to comprehend. He wrote of notions we typically encounter only in science fiction novels, like the principles behind worm-holes and black holes, the unfathomably tiny strings that (probably) makeup sub-atomic particles, the possibilities of time travel or moving between parallel universes. Like I said, our world is weird! Perhaps I should say- All of reality is crazy!

The fancy term for this kind of thinking is cosmology. Derived from Greek, that means “thinking about the cosmos”, or pondering all that is. And it’s a project the Greeks kicked off in ancient times, as philosophers before even before Plato looked to the stars and…wondered. What creates those flickering lights? Are there patterns or laws they follow? And what about us? Where do we fit in this grand adventure? This cosmic accident? This design? Not everyone ponders so all the time, but we’ve all had some such thought before. I hope.

Indeed, it’s partly why I have a job! We do church, in part, to connect with the cosmos’ Creator. Thus, religion and cosmology have long been close partners; religion being the senior partner for much of history. But not so much anymore, right? Modern physicists who think about these questions are much more likely to quote from Einstein than St. Paul. Abstract math describes the stars’ motions more accurately than poetic statements from the Psalms. Experiments for discovering the secrets of space are better done through massive particle colliders than meditative prayer. Those methods and mathematical models, in fact, have grown so powerful for describing reality, we religious folk can sometimes feel, now, like time is passing us by.

But we shouldn’t, I think, and not because I’m a Christian who thinks the Bible’s more accurate than modern science. The Big Bang sounds more likely a theory to me than either of Genesis’s creation stories. Rather, it’s the very weirdness physicists are discovering, hidden within the fundamental “stuff” that comprises us, that encourages me to keep my mind open to more than only what I can see. Because deep within our minds, our cells, our atoms, strange things happen. Barely perceivable events happen constantly that seemingly contradict laws we’d think common sense. I won’t pretend to understand that stuff, like quantum theory or indeterminacy, but suffice to say that the days are long over of smart folk thinking reality was simple to grasp.

Besides, the heart of religion isn’t so much about finding exact formulas to predict the behavior of people and weather. Sure, for a while people thought that correct prayers would impact that stuff, but I suspect we’ve mostly evolved as a religious species. Religion’s contribution to describing the cosmos, instead, is less about mechanics and more about character. We stare into the stars, seeking the personality behind whatever designer may’ve pushed them into their orbits.

And 1 John puts our most basic “findings” into as precise a formula as any. “God is Love,” he wrote. The two words, we believe, are synonyms. Such that, in this backwater corner of an insignificant galaxy within a vast universe, among many others, our species looks above and understands basic laws, then shares awe at their beauty with others. That something so lovely and improbable could occur among so massive a reality is crazy and wonderful to me. Yet, it reminds me of that babe born in out-of-the-way Bethlehem, poor and insignificant, yet precious to all. But such is the character of this world’s Creator. God is Love, unto eternity. And if the stars themselves follow that law, I guess we should too. Thankfully, for that, for you Christ was born.

Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!

Impossible…

Our ideas are too often too small. And in recent days, I’ve felt struck by that observation. In our personal lives, too readily Christians imagine that God imagines little for us. We want eternal life from God- not an inconsequential thing, surely- but might God desire more for and from us in this life too? It seems to me that our communities usually hope collectively for but simple advances of the common good. Broadly shared justice and prosperity sound wonderful, all things considered. But when we consider whether that’s possible, or the effort it would take, don’t we frequently turn to cynicism, inaction, even despair?

Forgive that downhearted opening! Let me explain. As many of you have also, I’m sure, I’ve spent time recently reflecting on Nelson Mandela. I’m too young to have been aware of his country’s struggles in real time. Most nine year-olds probably don’t follow momentous events a world away. But I do remember seeing a movie in childhood called The Power of One that was both a tragic love story and a film exploring South Africa’s fight for racial justice. The imprint it left on my young soul then was firm- that skin color shouldn’t cause people to mistreat their neighbors; that no person, however seemingly insignificant, is unimportant. We all can matter, can help, should live for ideas and dreams greater than ourselves.

Then in college, as an overwhelmed philosophy major, I read a small treatise for my honors thesis. It was called On Forgiveness, by distinguished- and weird- French philosopher Jacques Derrida. I won’t bore you with the details of his complex argument, but the main point is one I still affirm. He argued that forgiveness, at its heart, is an impossible phenomenon. For one, we often don’t want it. We typically content ourselves with revenge or basic justice. To move beyond convicting your enemy to forgiving your enemy is often a bridge too far. Plus, even if you attempt forgiveness, the person you seek to forgive is, basically, no longer present. Time has elapsed; her attitude might’ve changed. She might even now be apologizing! In that sense, it’s no longer the attacker you’re forgiving. It’s someone safer, someone more sanitary. So to forgive fully demands a victimized soul to reach back in time, and confront his enemy as his enemy, then say, “You’re forgiven.” That’s impossible.

Yet it happens, occasionally, Derrida observes. He then pushes the argument to wild extremes. He wonders if this impossible task, so absurd yet so real, is what makes us, in fact, truly human. As a Christian, I interpret that idea in light of Genesis 1, which describes us all as made in God’s image, designed at our core to do the impossible. To create life in loving partnership. To see beyond our surface-level differences to the common wonder that connects all. To forgive, actually forgive, by remaking relationships broken by sin.

The experience that Derrida points to in making his argument connects to Mandela. After Apartheid, you maybe remember South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Committee. This book first brought it to my attention, how- with Mandela’s guidance- they offered egregious perpetrators pardon, conditional on their appearing before a committee of judges and admitting the crimes they committed. These were abusers, murderers, rapists, many still armed and targets for possible revenge. But in the interests of moving forward as a society, seeking long-term, restorative justice rather than decades of subsequent trials, evasions and dangerous division, forgiveness became the country’s expectation. And together, they did the impossible.

In other words, after centuries of turmoil, these people weren’t content with small ideas. They drew on the grandest hopes of the Gospel and human possibility to accomplish an unprecedented good before all the world. In light of Mr. Mandela’s passing, I’m feeling convicted to “biggen” my thinking, to remember that at my core is God’s Image; glorious, impossible, divine. And if that’s true, then my usual hopes for personal peace and comfort feel inadequate. As Jesus said, “God’s Kingdom is coming.” That’s a huge idea! Yet he believed it possible, waiting simply for us to share his dream and make it so.

Grace and Peace,
Shane
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Blessings count…

Ugh. I’m looking out of my window and see the worst of all non-disaster related weather events happening. Not snow, not rain, but snow mixed with rain that’s just barely cold enough to not melt. It’s like slush, but more dangerous to drive and walk on. I’ll call it slice. Or snush. Whatever the term, I should just stay inside, amen?!

The past two weeks, I’ve been reading a book about the “peopling of America.” That refers to our nation’s first European settlers. And the slaves they brought too. Native folk will say the land was peopled already, thank you very much. The title of this historical tome sets the stage poignantly, and sadly. It’s called, “The Barbarous Years,” and focuses on 1600-1675, written by Bernard Bailyn, Pulitzer Prize winning Harvard historian and all-around American Founders expert.

The story is brutal. As he puts it, “Death was everywhere” in colonial America. Death is everywhere always, but in certain circumstances, its hands are more frequent and grasping. Bailyn describes settlements from Virginia to New England to what eventually became New York, and time after time these fragile communities suffered beyond my imaginings. I mean, sure, I remember elementary school legends about huddled settlers near Plymouth Rock, gratefully accepting assistance in their need from friendly, local Indians. I had some awareness of what happened next- the Pilgrims soon turned on their native hosts. Blood feuds, war, even genocide complemented efforts to trade and survive.
But the depth of that period’s suffering, among colonists but especially native peoples and slaves, was even more severe than I’d previously realized. Perhaps that says something about my own historical ignorance. And there’s also something in that about our modern sugar-coating of the nation’s founding (a process every nation undertakes, by the way; we all want the past to be nobler than it frequently was). But I also think this story is one about the vast improvements made across the centuries. I can stare out the window at slice/snush/icky ice and say, “I’ll be okay inside. I’ve got what I need.”

The original colonists had no such luxury, of course, especially in the first years, when Atlantic seaboard winters wiped out entire towns, desperate people resorting to terrible measures- stealing Indians’ seed corn, lunches of leather, occasional cannibalism. Many came to these shores fleeing what they considered religious persecution. So a blazing fire of faith drove them to persevere through these hardships, and then inflict more hardship on “heathen” natives, barbarians they thought. But the settlers whose stories most intrigue me aren’t the pious, well-documented Puritan Pilgrims. It’s the high percentage of travelers who came as servants or basic workers without an agenda. They made up about one-third of the Mayflower’s passengers, and had no interest in establishing a pure, new world religious outpost. They simply thought this foreign land held more opportunity for work, advancement, survival.

Little did they know. Or maybe they did know the depravations the journey would entail. Nevertheless, they gathered all they had and sought a fresh start or new adventure. What does that say about the society they left behind, the struggles of ordinary poor folk in 17th century England? I haven’t read that book yet, so I can’t say for sure, though I suspect the situation “at home” was desperate too.
Which returns me to my forlorn glances out of the window today and niggling annoyance I can’t take my dog for a run. I may have trouble counting my blessings at times, but I’ve got a great many to count, if I took the time. People in generations before mine underwent ghastly struggles that- God willing- I’ll never have to endure, not even close. Native tribes exterminated by disease or bigotry. African families bought and sold and treated like cattle. Fragile European migrant communities still figuring out how to till this soil, build enduring homes, make a living or simply survive. It’s not a new or especially insightful point I’m trying to make. But it’s useful to remember now and again. For all our troubles, we have many advantages unthinkable to ages past. May it be our kids will say the same.

Grace and Peace,
Shane
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