Commandment the Fourth: Sabbath

“Remember the Sabbath Day, to keep it holy.” ~Exodus 20:8

At first glance, I’m simply being lazy on a quiet morning. At first glance, anyone might think this is a typical Saturday, or anymore, Sunday morning at home: Pajamas, coffee, Crossword puzzle…the whole nine yards. Why would anyone have an issue with that?

Mentally, I’m wrestling with it a bit because it isn’t Saturday, or even Sunday, the accepted days of rest & leisure. It’s Friday, and at 9:45 in the A.M., I’m feeling less like someone honoring Sabbath (rest, renewal, reverence and gratitude), and more like I’m simply slacking off. In fact, I know that in just a little while I need to go visit someone in the hospital who had surgery this past week.

I’m a minister, specifically of the Presbyterian Church (USA) persuasion. Sunday, for all intents and purposes, is not a day of rest for me. Oh, I occasionally get a nap in Sunday afternoon, but that’s only if there are no other church events that need my attention and presence. My ‘work week’ consists of Sunday to Thursday. Saturday is my typical, true day off. Friday, however, is my Sabbath.

In recent years, Sabbath has come to carry new interpretation, especially for the religious professionals who seek to carve out a bit of holy Sabbath-space in a culture and society that does not work on the same schedule. It used to be that Sabbath meant a pause for an entire community – every single man, woman and child pausing from all other work and obligations to together set apart time as a people of God.

Go ahead and try to get an entire community to do that today. I’ll wait; let me know how it goes.

Our minds are conditioned to the thought of “always on, always going.” Especially for religious leaders, who are expected to be present at every single event, meeting, and/or notable life event in their church/temple/house of worship. Sabbath has become an alien thought, but one we espouse readily. So what does it mean, anymore? (Hint: For a really great discussion of Sabbath for working families in the modern age, take a look at Maryann McKibben-Dana’s book, Sabbath In the Suburbs.)

Waking up later than usual (the coffee pot turned on at the time I’m normally walking out the door Sunday through Thursday), still sitting in pajamas, frustrated at the difficult Friday crossword (I still try to do them in pen like my grandma used to), mindful that someone is in the hospital waiting for me to visit, I have to wonder: Is this Sabbath? If it is, why does my mind feel anxious, like I’m being lazy? How is this honoring to God? to my relationship with God? to my understanding that I serve as a representative of God?

I’ll continue to ponder the rest of the questions, but for now, I think it’s enough to say that part of Sabbath is to challenge my internal barometer which is anxious and feeling unproductive. Sabbath – setting apart, slowing down, intentionally putting aside routine – is meant, in part, to help me remember that there is something greater at work than my work, my schedule.

And if that’s the case, I will happily sit here, being ‘unproductive,’ practicing Sabbath…

Chasing the Divine

“The report of my death has been grossly exaggerated.” ~Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain)

My fingers may not have been very active here of late, but rest assured, my mind has.

In the many months past, I have walked through a good deal of transition. I should say, I’m still walking through it.  Having accepted a new call to a different church, told my previous congregation, planned a move, moved, started to get settled while hitting the ground at full speed…throughout all of that, I have not written much here.  But my mind, my spirit has continued on unabated.

Currently, to feed the part of me that is defined by wanderlust, I have been reading, off and on, Ruth Everhart’s book, Chasing the Divine in the Holy Land (Eerdmans Publishing, 2012).  She chronicles her experience as a pilgrim in the Holy Land, part of a documentary group, rekindling her connection with the Divine Presence, with all the questions that come with that, as well as some that may have been unanswered from seminary.

I’ve been savoring her story.

I long to be a pilgrim, myself.  To not simply travel, but to travel with purpose, and more so, to open myself up to an area, a culture, a history…not simply to observe it as a tourist (not that there’s much wrong with that), but to internalize, to connect, to be changed by it in a way that is only possible during pilgrimage, journey, seeking.  Everhart, early on, reflects on an understanding of pilgrims marked by the words, “May we go home by another way” (p.20).  A sense that, by engaging in a pilgrimage, the spiritual journeyman/woman will not be the same as he/she was at the outset.  There is a part of me that yearns for this.

The thought I’m currently wrestling with is: “Do I have to go on pilgrimage, though, to have any sort of this experience?  Is it at ALL possible to have this in worship on Sunday mornings?”

Because it seems to me that we as Christians, as disciples (those who follow) & apostles (those sent out), who gather regularly for worship to a God that has rarely left any people where they were found…it seems to me that we should be experiencing this by engaging in worship & church.  Else, why do we go to church?  Simply to be propped up?  To be encouraged?  To be solidified into a mold or an ideal?  No offense, but empty pats on the back are not why I go to church, or why I am following Christ as a leader in church.

It may not offer the same depth of experience as traveling as a pilgrim to a holy land (and I should know, I joyfully & reverently have walked the paths of Iona, Scotland), but Sunday worship ought to draw us in as pilgrims, and send us out as a changed people, holding our encounter with the Divine close to our hearts.  [Members of Gregory Memorial, be warned: I will attempt to not let you stay where you have been found!  I want us to be a pilgrim people!!]

While I will continue to slowly savor Everhart’s book, I will do so with relish, living vicariously though her and her questions.  In the meantime, I, for one, will seek to be changed by Sunday worship, changed into one who follows ever more closely to the One who calls and grants life.

And Rev. Everhart, forgive me if I misrepresented your journey; I am, however, grateful that you have provided a way for others to accompany you!

(You can read more on Ruth’s journey & reflections here and here, and listen to her interview on God Complex Radio here)

Overwhelmed by Debt: A Lament

O Lord, my God, in whom I proclaim to have trust and have committed my life to following…What am I to do?

At least, that’s how I feel today.

Every month, at least once, I go about the process of balancing my checkbook. Today, in doing so, I was overcome with the reality of how much debt my wife and I each carry (voluntarily – it was, after all, our decision to pursue education), and what that actually means.  Put simply, even if my federal loan were a 0% interest loan (which it never will be), and if I continue to make my regular monthly payments, it would take me another 8 years to pay it off.  For my wife, that number would be 13 years.  That’s also assuming no other life changes demanding our attention (e.g. children, which we both agree are in our visions of our future).

Pardon me while I continue to panic somewhat, and attempt to catch my breath…

Now, as I mentioned, I agreed to this. I listened faithfully to God’s call on my life, I followed the denomination’s requirements to obtain my Master of Divinity degree, I knew that I would never be a millionaire and I’m OK with that; I’m not in it for the money. And neither is my wife (whose story as a public educator is very similar).

But the idea that we will be paying off the debt incurred simply to be able to enter the workforce and be actively engaged citizens of this country for the better part of the next decade and a half is one that almost makes me physically sick.  And this is just an example of voluntary, educational debt; I can’t even fathom the number of people in our country carrying unforeseen medical debt.

And I know that there are others out there who are in more stressful financial shape than we are.

And so, I wonder, how do we as faithful Christians, as churches, as denominations respond to this? Leviticus discusses the concept of Jubilee (chapter 25), a year in which everything is returned to a balance nature…almost like hitting the reset button on your gaming station.  I’m not trying to get out from what I committed to, but if there was a way to make it so that I, my wife, and thousands of other individuals in our country could manage the repayment a bit easier, while still providing for selves and families…well, I think that’d be a pretty good idea.

And it seems I’m not the first to have this idea.  There is now a group known as Rolling Jubilee which is attempting to put this concept into practice.  I’ll be excited to see how this plays out.

But for today, I lament this situation.  And as we approach Christ the King Sunday in six days, I have to wonder: What does it mean to follow and trust a King of my life who proclaims such release from burdens, and yet live in a society which thrives on them?

A Bloody Halloween

Today, as I’ve been reminded by numerous facebook posts, news stories, and other sundry announcements, is Halloween. And no offense to all the various goblins and ghouls, witches and superheroes dressed up out there, this is not my favorite holiday. Especially not today, with so much happening on the other side of my fair state. In my opinion (worth nothing more than bytes on which this is typed), the only fun thing about Halloween is watching scary movies in the dark.

Today is also All Hallows Eve, the day before All Saints’ Day in the Christian tradition, the day on which we remember the great cloud of witnesses which has gone before us, and whose memory still shapes us and our understandings. I have infinitely more respect for this aspect of this calendar day, but I also do not wish to go on about this, as I am fully aware that many of my ministerial colleagues are already doing this, and that to society at large, we sometimes become…sanctimonious in our assertions of the Christian tradition of the secular.

But, mindful of both aspects of this day’s events, and of what is going on in the larger world, I decided to make this day truly memorable. I decided to get bloody.

Not in the gory movie sense, but in the sense of donating blood to the Red Cross, which is now in great need (I heard someone at the site that our area alone sent 7,000 units to the East Coast disaster regions).

I decided that I would do something this day that I would be glad to do, that others would appreciate without me sounding sanctimonious, that would do tangible good for someone else in need.

For what it’s worth, I think it was one of the best ideas I’ve had in a long time.

The Myth of Pastoral Parity

“I want to give the one who was hired last the same as I gave you [who was hired first].” ~Matthew 20:14b

In my parent denomination, the Presbyterian Church (USA), we make a point of arguing that there is no difference between leaders of the church; different gifts lead to different roles, but all recognized and validated leaders get an equal say and vote (with minor exceptions – see my previous post). Whether you’re an ordained Minister of Word and Sacrament (Teaching Elder), a Christian Educator, a Commissioned Lay Pastor, a Ruling Elder…you get the idea. If you’re recognized as a leader, it doesn’t matter what your gifts & role are, you get the same voice and vote privileges that everyone else does (again, pretty much).

Unfortunately, that’s not actually the case.

You see, while we are fairly compensated, freed from the burden of worrying about income so that we might better be enabled to go about our ministry (at least those of us who are Teaching Elders), there is an inequity in this, and that by nature plays out in multiple ways.  The most obvious is the unspoken assumption that if, say, I am the minister of large and wealthy church, a church that can afford to pay me more than my rural counterpart, a church that is better able to give financially to the presbytery or denomination, than our words tend to carry more weight and sway. In short, in the church, just as it appears to be in society at large, money talks, and when it does, people tend to listen more.

And while I will be the first to recognize that that isn’t always the case, it certainly happens more than we might like.  We believe that the church should not conform to the ways of the world, but when it comes to this aspect, it all too often leans that direction.

But it’s more than that.  It’s deeper than that.

It’s the recognition that while we argue for parity, for equality, for justice, this is rarely the case when it comes to pastoral compensation, and that ripples outward in multiple ways.

Let me reiterate: I’m all for fair compensation, and I realize that changes from community to community, based on cost of living, the needs of the congregation, and what the congregation can afford.

But there is a growing reality that, in the overall sense of the church, there is an increasing disparity in compensation, which leads to an idea of whose voice counts more, which leads to arguments of leverage and power.

All from the one community that should be striving to live beyond that, beyond the ever-increasing games of capitalism that are inherent in secular society.

Case in point: In my presbytery alone there are at least two ministers who, in their congregation, are compensated at a rate that is nearly twice my own compensation. I admit that I don’t fully know the cost of living in their communities, or the budget of their congregations, but a part of me has to wonder…is it actually necessary?

And then there are the associates of the denomination, people who are in ministry in a congregation, receiving sometimes less than half of what the senior pastor in the same congregation receives.

This is not about making more; I know my congregation’s needs, and their abilities, and I feel that I am fairly compensated for my ministry. I know my colleagues, and they are good ministers, doing much faithful work with their congregations. And, I know that we, particularly, as a denomination are set up to be the general clearing house for the ministers.

But there is an aspect to all of this that sets up an issue of justice, of equity, and which leads to power struggles, as those who have more seek to evoke leverage over those who do not have as much, those who are able to give more over those who are not able to give as much.

Jesus tells the parable of the workers in the vineyard, who are promised a fair wage for the work they do, and then gives them all the same fair wage, regardless of how long they actually worked.  Jesus gives us the example of the widow who, giving her last two pennies, has given more than the rich man, not monetarily, but spiritually. And throughout it all, Jesus talks of a fair and equitable society in which those who have the means are able to look out for those who are unable to look out for themselves, an earthly kingdom which reflects a heavenly kingdom.

When are we going to start living in to this, in earnest?

Voice Only: A Reflection on the Missing Generation

NB: The following are my own reflections and insights, based primarily on conversations and what I continue to observe as a (still somewhat) young adult in the Church today…

The question seems to have existed for as long as I’ve been able to remember, and still, after all this time, seems to be one that congregations and denominations ask with urgency and intentionality, if not near-panic: “How do we get young adults and youth to come to/remain in the church?”

Colleagues have told me that they are asked this question by congregations seeking to grow again, or reach out more, or become connected to this demographic.  People have speculated – relaxed worship styles, contemporary songs, more social media, call a young pastor, put a sign out front with hipster Jesus on it…the ideas are roughly the same now as they have been since mainline denominations realized that the young adult population was largely missing, and that that is bad thing.  Since then, books have even been written on the subject (though the best, in my humble opinion, continues to be “Tribal Church” by Carol Howard Merritt).

And yet, regardless of all these conversations and exercises in re-imaging ourselves, congregations and denominations continue to show a startling lack of young adult engagement and presence.  What’s more, the theory that all young adults return to the Holy Mother once they start having families of their own no longer holds true; Protestant and Catholic young adults are not going through their own version of the Amish rumspringa.

SO…

If none of these possible approaches to attracting and retaining young adults have produced the hoped for results, what will?  If contemporary or relaxed worship & music is not what congregations simply need to embrace to magically draw in the young adult masses, what is it that do we need to embrace?

Thankfully, I believe the answer is fairly straightforward, but paradoxically difficult: We need to give young adults more than just a visible role in the congregation and in the denomination.

Case in point: The General Assembly of my own denomination, the Presbyterian Church (USA), met this past summer in Pittsburgh for it’s bi-annual meeting.  At this meeting, there were roughly 170 Young Adult Advisory Delegates (YAADs) present, representing their regional Presbyteries and present to be actively engaged in the denominational discussions and decision-making.  And during the smaller committee meetings that took place during the first few days, the YAADs were fully engaged, being given the rights of both voice and vote.  They were heard.  They were respected.  Their vote counted every bit as much as that of someone who had been in the denomination for decades.  But that’s as far as it went.

When the time came for the entire body to come together in plenary to vote on the recommendations of the committees, the YAADs – young adult members of the Church in full standing, called by God, discerned by the Spirit – were asked to be seen, and heard only in the token sense.  When it came to the full decision-making, they were allowed to speak, to advise, to give voice to their understanding of how God was at work and leading the denomination, but it stopped there. The young adults of the Church were not allowed to vote.  That was reserved for adult commissioners only, the ones who obviously understood such matters better (full sarcasm intended).

We all but patted them on the head condescendingly, commented on how sweet and cute they were, and then turned our backs on them.

And right there, we see a perfect example of why the Church is not attracting young adults: We don’t actual care to allow them to have any full role in leading the Church.  We make a show of having them present, of listening to their voices, their experiences, their discernment.  But we won’t actually let them have a role in leading the Church into the future.

I’ve heard many individuals and congregations claim that they want to focus on youth and young adult, because they’re the future of the Church. Only they aren’t.  Baptized and confirmed individuals, regardless of age, are already full members of the Church; they are our present.

Until we allow them not just voice but vote, until we come to a point where we are willing to allow some of the decision-making power to depart from us and rest upon them, until we are willing to with our actions validate and recognize young adults, we will not see much of them in our congregations.  It really is that simple (though the concept of giving up power is often a foreign one to adults, even myself).

If we want to be inviting to young adults, if we want to them to be an active part of our communities of faith, then we must invite them to lead us, to be fully active in the role of discerning Christ’s future for the Church.  Until that day comes, young adults will, by and large, find better things to which to give their enormous talents, passions, and resources, and the Church will languish for it all.

My Sermon Response to the PCUSA 220th General Assembly

Following is my sermon for July 8, 2012, based on the Revised Common Lectionary, and in response to this General Assembly. These are my reflections, and my reflections alone, meant to be edifying as much as informative.

<2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10; Mark 6:1-13>

Prayer: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be pleasing and acceptable to you, O Holy Mystery, our Rock and Redeemer.  Amen.

I pray forgiveness if this sermon comes across as a little bit raw; I endeavored to keep it from becoming so, but I do not know if I succeeded.

As I mentioned last week in worship, I wear this stole today to show my mindfulness of those who are serving the church throughout this past week by being at our denomination’s General Assembly.  Throughout this week they have labored long in committee meetings, plenaries, and worship to guide our denomination into the next years to come.  These commissioners and advocates have labored for long hours, even into the wee hours of Saturday morning, recessing somewhere in the neighborhood of 1:30am, after starting business at 8:30am the previous morning.  There has been much heated discussion and debate, with most of it respectful, but I must confess that I am saddened by many of the decisions that have been made.

“[Jesus] called the Twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits.  He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff…So they went out, and proclaimed that all should repent.  They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.”

I’ve always been fascinated with this account of the disciples being sent out in mission.  As Jesus deals with the incredulous response he received from his own hometown, the disciples are sent out to continue the work that he began, and has now called them to.  They go out, presumably to the other towns in the region, and they do all the things which we still understand to make up the proclamation of the Good News: they healed the sick and afflicted, they made whole the broken aspects of life, they lifted up people who were down and in need; in word and deed, the disciples made known that the Kingdom of God was drawing near to those who were yearning for it, those who were desiring to see it in their lifetimes.

Now, often, when I read this account, I try to imagine what it would have been like to be one of those disciples, performing such deeds and spreading the gospel invitation.  I wonder what it would take today to accomplish such feats of faith and compassion.  But it’s a simple answer, really.  In fact, it’s so simple that I usually overlook it, trying to discover something flashier, something more grand.

Synergy, in today’s parlance, is often used to describe the exciting result of the interaction of two separate items, meaning that the sum of the whole is greater than the individual parts.  But to put it in terms of the faith and the church, I would argue that synergy could just as accurately be used to describe the reality of a person living a life that outwardly reflects an inward awareness, of making one the exterior and the interior of a person.  It is the simple reality of synergy in one’s life that makes such living out the Kingdom of God possible.

Case in point: In our reading from 2 Samuel, we see that David has synergy.  The people approach him, declaring that he is to be their next king in the wake of the spectacularly-gone-awry experiment of Saul.  They know that he, David, will be a better and more faithful king because, even when he wasn’t king he acted as if he was.  Oh, not in the sense that he proclaimed himself king wherever he went, regardless of who was actually on the throne.  In fact, quite the opposite!  Wherever David went, he approached the people and interacted with them as one would expect a king to do, with the best interests of the people’s safety and welfare at his own heart.  David treated the people as a king ought to treat his people, and David did so before he ever sat on the throne.  His outward actions reflected an inward awareness of how his relationship with others was affected by his calling from God.  In such a self-awareness and synergy, it did not ultimately matter what his title or status were; he treated the people in such a way because he knew it to be the right way, and his conscience, his authentic self would not let him act any other way.  His actions showed his heart, and they were in line with what he spoke.  He did not say one thing, while doing another thing, and holding a third view within.

It is this same reality of living into this authenticity, between action, proclamation, and self-understanding, this synergy, that allows the disciples to fully and truly proclaim the good news, inviting people into deeper relationship with God, and moving away from the actions and lifestyles that fostered division.  After all, if someone came up to you, preaching good news of an invitation to a richer, fuller life, and then did not live out such a lifestyle himself, would you listen?  Of course not!  You would look at him and think, ‘He doesn’t even believe in the things he’s telling me; why should I believe him, then?’

The disciples go out, two by two, not simply to proclaim the Kingdom of God and the healing that goes with it, but to live out the Kingdom of God and the healing that goes with it.  By taking nothing but what is absolutely needed, they are freed from material distractions and concerns.  By going out in community with another disciple, they are living out the communal nature of the Kingdom, and showing the fullness of edifying relationship that marks the Kingdom for what it is; a place where concern for your brother and sister is the driving force of relationship, as opposed to what others will think of you, or what you’ll get out of the relationship.

And the lesson that comes with this understanding of what it is to live out the gospel is still one that we need today.  I mentioned earlier that I’ve been very frustrated with the PC(USA) General Assembly this past week.  I have spent long hours tuned into to the live feed on the internet, watching and listening as commissioners and advisors deliberated and voted.  And, though I say this cautiously, I must say that what I heard and saw does not show me a denomination that, in this past week, has followed the example put forth by our readings this morning.

Early in the week we elected a vice-moderator for the assembly, in good order and duly so.  Later in the week, she felt forced to resign her post, as those who still disagreed that she should have been elected in the first place threatened to manipulate the system to make sure nothing of the assembly’s business was addressed.  Where, I ask, was the discipline of loving your brother and sister, and working with the will of the assembly that had broken no rules in the election process?

Then, later in the week, the issue of divestment was discussed.  Some of the stock holdings of our denomination are in companies that profit from the violence between Palestine and Israel in the Middle East, and thus promote the oppression of a nation.  There was a resolution to urge the divestment of stock from such companies, opting not to receive income from companies and situations that purport violence.  We as a church proclaim the peace of the Kingdom of God, the peace that Christ has offered us and this world, and that such peace between neighbors and countries is one of our goals that we work toward.  The vote to make our perspective known by divesting from such companies and their practices was defeated; our denomination will continue to receive earnings from these companies, and from practices that allow for violence and oppression.

Finally, the discussion came to the issue of same-gender marriage.  And without recreating the discussion among us, because I know that we as a congregation are not of one view, it will suffice to say that in some ways it comes down to an understanding of whether or not we welcome people who have personally experienced Christ in their lives to have all the benefits of the church.  We claim, as the church, that anyone who seeks Christ more fully is welcome at the Table, that anyone who has been called by the Spirit has a place in our communities, that anyone who loves as Christ first loved will be invited in.  And regardless of what your understanding on this issue may be, the reality is that when we claim this as who we are, and then vote in such a way that does not honor people for who they are, the only message that the outside world receives is that we say one thing with our lips and another with our actions.  This vote, also, was ultimately defeated.  No authenticity.  No synergy.

We claim to be a church that wants to create and make known the peaceful Kingdom of God in this world, and yet we implicitly, if not explicitly, support violent climates in the areas where Jesus walked.  We claim to be a church where everyone is welcome, and yet we tell people that unless they look, act, or think like us, then there is no room for them here.  We claim to be a church that is creating a place for future generations, and then we talk about young adults as if they weren’t in the room with us, and as if we know what they really want, instead of listening to their voices and heeding their advice.  The actions of our General Assembly give me little hope for the future of our church, when this is the outcome of the week’s work for all the world to see.

And yet.  And yet, I still have hope.  There is still hope to be found.  Jesus was rejected in his hometown, unable to do any great acts of power, and yet his ministry did not stop there.  The disciples went out, sent out two by two, and continued the ministry begun, preparing the way for Christ to come in person and invite people into the full love of God.  Throughout all of this and even beyond the death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ, Jesus continues to bring healing to the world!  This is still the work that is before us today; what good news!  I may be saddened by the actions of this General Assembly, but it does not mean that the work of the Spirit for the increase of God’s Kingdom has ceased, and I am still called to such.  Each of us as disciples is still called to this.  Personally, I will abide by my denomination’s decisions; I am Presbyterian, and I will keep to the church’s decisions.  But I will not stop engaging the conversation, or proclaiming the good news as I have seen and experienced it.  I will not stop seeking the healing of Christ for a hurting and broken world.  Such is the calling of every disciple; not to be caught up in uniformity, but in unity to proclaim the good news as each and every one of us is called to do – with our own lives, our own experiences, our own synergy.  When we, in word and deed, continue to make such proclamation, then God’s Kingdom will be increased, and those who yearn for peace and wholeness will find it.  May God’s Kingdom truly come…Amen.

 

Breaking Arms Across The Aisle

Many people may not care as much about what is going on at the currently in-session 220th General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (USA) (#GA220). Regardless, it should be noted that last night’s conversation on the floor was one that was highly contentious as we discussed and voted on whether or not to actively, peacefully divest from corporations that harm Palestinian lives and communities in the West Bank. Though the recommended action was to divest, a minority report was made, offering a substitute motion to positively invest instead. In an almost surprising turn of events, the proposed substitute motion became the main motion by a two-vote difference. TWO votes – in all essence, a split vote. Ultimately, this new motion passed, and the denomination voted not to seek divestment (you can read more about that here). In the following minutes and hours, there was much grief that we as a denomination had thus chosen the side of income instead of justice for an oppressed people. While an important issue, this post is not about that.

Early this morning, as I sipped coffee from the safety of my dining room, I read this tweet from good friend Carol Howard Merritt: “Our system is set up to thrive on controversy…”.

This insight was, to me, simultaneously true and saddening. While Robert’s Rules & Parliamentary Procedure is indeed designed to allow room for all voices to be equally heard (whether it be my beloved denomination or this country), we have moved into a societal culture in which we no longer use this process to respectfully listen to each other, engaging in conversation for edification, and instead have come to the point of using the process as a tool to beat down the ‘other’ side, forgetting that we are engaged primarily toward the same end, forgetting that those who are politically or theologically across the aisle are still our sisters and brothers, with the same inherent and foundational interests. At least, I still believe that we share the same inherent and foundational interests.

[I also believe that this is less a reality in the Church, though it is present, and perhaps growing.]

If, indeed, our system is set up to thrive on controversy, it is because we have allowed it to become so. I do not disagree with Carol, but merely lament her insight that this is what we have come to: that instead of using such a tool to fully edify our conversations and decisions, we instead allow bullying and bloodying of the very people we are called to walk in relationship with, for the further proclamation of God’s Kingdom.

This is not to say that we can’t have differing opinions, but we have seen such uses of our procedural system in this week. Earlier, our duly-elected vice-moderator was led to resign because of vitriol and hurt that were thrown at her after her (fully in-order) election. Last night (and I say this in my personal opinion), the recommended action was overruled by a minority response that didn’t like the way their committee had voted (in a 3-1 manner). All of this is, technically, in order, but is being used in such a way to create controversy instead of building up the body.

We see the same thing, but in a stronger sense, in our nation’s political system. I did not agree with many of the actions of our previous president, nor did I vote for him (in either election), but he was duly elected, and I honored that. However, what I see today is that our nation’s current president, also duly elected, is quite often not afforded similar respect, and that the legislative branches of our government are caught up in a quagmire of those who act because they want to hamper our president’s efforts, rather than out of a good of the country.

That we have allowed this to become the climate in which our governmental systems (ecclesiastical or political) operate is a sad state of affairs, and we have no one to blame but ourselves. The only hope we have is to build up relationships, and respectfully listen, instead of trying to win our own perspective. Will this happen? Sadly, I think not. The populace too enjoys a good, controversial show then a good, edifying conversation. This is what we’ve come to, and the bed we sleep in. My prayer is that God may indeed prove me wrong. But as I will continue to work to such an end, I’m not going to hold my breath.

Regardless as that may be, I urge us all to seriously consider putting aside our human desire to ‘win’ and allow instead our ability to respectfully listen to one another, and hold each other in the mutual common work that is the foundation of each of our calls, even as our perspectives may differ.

A Year of Service for a Lifetime of Change

…or, “Why I am the way I am.”

I’m very partial to the Pentecost offering of the PC(USA).

I know that our denomination does all kinds of special offerings throughout the year, and as a minister I, too, share the sometimes dubious joy of attempting to promote/support all of them throughout the year, on top of our regular offerings, all in a rural church that is struggling financially (like so many others).  I really do attempt to support them all, and space them out appropriately.  But I’m very partial to the Pentecost offering.

And there is a very good reason for this, I believe: I would not be where I am now, who I am now, or have the story of faith that I currently have without this offering. At least, not without a program that this offering helps support.

I am speaking of none other than the PC(USA) Young Adult Volunteers (YAV, for short) program – a national & international program of mission service for young adults of faith ages 19-30, which I spent two years of my formative life engaged with.  And to be honest, I could talk/write/impose my thoughts for quite a lengthy time on this topic – what it is, why I feel it’s important, why I believe you should feel it’s important.  But to be fair, I’ll simply list some of the highlights of what has formed me through this program, and let you simply absorb/reflect as you will.  (I try to practice with others the mercy of God I have received.)

1) My spiritual journey is richer for this program, and that has a direct affect on my ministry where I am now.  This is perhaps the most concrete and visible outcome of spending time between my undergraduate and graduate academic work.  During these two brief years, I spent time in small, rural churches (very similar to where I am now), learning by experience (trial-and-error) what it is to live in relationship with the people that comprise these communities, walking with them through good and bad, sharing the exciting and mundane of life.  But most of all, I learned to simply BE PRESENT with them.  I used to think that ministry was all about finding the right combination of programming to meet the needs of the people, and that once you put those pieces of programming together correctly – viola!  You had successful ministry!  It took living through failure in this model (more than once) to learn that ministry has almost nothing to do with programming, and almost everything to do with relationship – sharing Christ with one another, walking with one another, recognizing that you impact others and are impacted by others.  I would not realize this now had I not been a YAV.

It’s a little ironic that it took a mission program to make me realize that programs aren’t the end result of ministry.

2) I learned to live in community.  This piggy-backs off of point #1 enough for me not to expand too much on it, but to simply say that Simon & Garfunkel were wrong: I am not a rock, or an island, but live & move & have my being in the intentional living together with other people, whether we share the same roof or not.

3) I learned to live simply.  There are numerous resources out there on this topic, so forgive me for not going into a lot of detail about them here.  If you’re interested, visit Amazon or Barnes & Noble and search for the above topic.  But suffice it to say: When you’re on a limited income, you learn what’s important – truly important – and what you can do without.  I sometimes wonder if I’ve lost some of that understanding in my own life, and I oftentimes wonder if the Church particular has lost sight of that as well (each year around budget time, to be exact).  Someday I’ll readdress that aspect of my life, and perhaps find a bit more courage to help this gathered body or worshipers to do the same.  But the undercurrent of it all is that I have learned, and remember keenly, what is truly important, and what is adiaphora.

4) I learned acceptance.  Along with point #1, this is perhaps the most important.  I learned to accept who I am (which is constantly held in tension with striving for excellence in all I do – the two are not mutually exclusive), but more important to the ministry I am a part of now, I learned to accept others for who they are.  Throughout my time as a YAV, and now as a YAVA(lumnus), I have experienced so much grace, forgiveness, and love that I no longer know how to walk in relationship with others without offering them the same.  I don’t care where you’re from, what you’ve been through, why you’re here now or even if you’ll stay.  I do care that you know, even if only for a moment or two, that God loves you more than you can fully comprehend.  Having experienced this mystifying reality, I want you to know it as well, and I want to be one of the ones to help you realize it.  God has accepted me, faults and gifts all, and so I accept you as well.  What you do with that is up to you.

5) I learned that I don’t have all the answers, and this is a very good thing.  Graduating college, and heading into the mission field, I saw myself as something of an expert, or at least an authority, in the ministry I’d be undertaking.  Within six weeks I realized, hard, that this was not reality.  I was clueless, still, despite my years of education and experience.  I couldn’t have asked for a greater blessing moving forward.  In my years as a YAV, I learned that the only One who does have answers or any semblance of control is God, and learned moreso to be OK with that – to be at peace when I didn’t have the foggiest, and to trust that it was God’s leading when I did have an idea of direction.  It isn’t my place to provide the answers, to be the fixer of every situation – that isn’t ministry.  It is my call to be in relationship with others, and let that simply be; God will be at work in, through, and despite me.  This lesson ranks right up there with #1 above, in my mind.

In short, these are some of the aspects of ministry I learned as a YAV, a ministry which is directly supported (in part) through the annual, upcoming Peacemaking offering of Pentecost.  If any of this sounds worth-while to you, please consider ways in which you might give to the Peacemaking offering, or support the YAV program, as well.