It Will Be Enough...

It is budget planning time here amidst the corn and tomato fields. Unfortunately, this year that means planning to have less income than we’ve had in the past. The trends have been there for a couple years. And there’s plenty of blame to go around: a weak and stubbornly un-recovering economy; internal discord about sexuality and denominational policy; a wider culture in which formal/communal expressions of faith are fading in favor of an individualism (both in secular and sacred matters) that recognizes little loyalty beyond itself; and the church’s own (and decades long) inability to get beyond its own walls and deal with the reality that the Church was never meant to be a club whose sole distinguishing factor was that it closed every meeting with the Lord’s Prayer. 

OK. Got that off my chest. 

On the one hand, it makes me sigh deeply. We (both the lay folks and their pastor in this place) have been working faithfully at being what God has called us to be. No doubt about that. But we’ve made our mistakes along the way, and in the current environment there seems to be little margin for error. The result is that we must be planning do ministry with fewer dollars and fewer folks. Guess I know which direction my salary is headed for 2013.

But on the other hand…

How many dollars does it take to share with your sick neighbor that big lasagna you just made…just to let them know that you care about them getting better? How big a savings account do you need to hold your tongue when the political debates get nasty and personal and stupid…or to employ that same tongue with a word of encouragement rather than condemnation? How many other people does it take for you to decide that getting up on Sunday morning and going to worship is the right thing to do…that God deserves your praise, and that you need to be fed by that holy Word and precious Meal in order to make it through all the decisions and distractions of the week ahead? How big a budget do you need in order to read a Bible story to your child or even to a gathering of the community’s children in something like a Sunday school?

The point is this: Most…nearly all…of what we do as church doesn’t require massive amounts of money or people. Most of what we do requires a simple, thankful response to the grace of God that we are willing to let overflow into the daily, ordinary, mundane faithfulness that cares for the world and all its inhabitants…or at least those inhabitants closest to us. God will take it from there…redeeming what we screw up and using it all (by the power of the Spirit) to get done what needs done.

Yeah…I know. It’s not fancy or glitzy. Our worship videos probably won’t be going viral. The TV cameras won’t likely be camped outside the front door. And there will still be a frustratingly large amount of arrogance and nastiness in the neighborhood. But where we let God work through what we have to offer, we will be treated to glimpses of the Kingdom itself…a holy reign that cannot be bought with our big budgets, but that has already been purchased by the faithfulness of Christ.

Just remember. The crucifixion didn’t much look like a success either. But after every Friday comes a Sunday. God can and will use us and whatever gifts we have to offer no matter how big or small. We may well wonder…but in the end, it will be enough.

DLN@CCD

Waiting for Smalls...

There is yet no word from Chicago. After eight and a half months of serious construction work, elder son and his lovely wife, having done everything they can to prepare, are now just waiting for the appearing of their first-born…a child of unknown gender who has become affectionately known in the family as “Smalls.” 

And it’s not just Chicago that’s waiting. Here in a small town four hours away, a suitcase is mostly packed, a list is made, the gas tank is full, and a new rocker is ready to stuff into the minivan for what will be a very speedy trip along the toll roads between here and the Prentice Women’s Hospital just a block from Lake Michigan. Other than that…we’re just waiting, too.

It occurs to me, however, that this is a different kind of waiting…something that evokes Advent rather than late summer. It is anticipation tinged with joy and anxiety and a kind of wide-eyed wonder at the mundane miracle of love that blossoms into new life. 

Wouldn’t it be marvelous if each day could dawn like this? How might our lives (and the lives of those around us) be changed if we let the Spirit so work in our hearts? There are, after all, different ways of receiving the days we are given. Perhaps we see what lies before us each morning as a kind of nervous and judgmental “to do” list, ready to condemn us for not getting everything done that we should and reminding us that we’re always behind somebody’s idea of a schedule. Better, I think: the tasks we take on today are an opportunity for living into God’s future, building for the coming of something as wonderful as a new child…that hopeful kingdom which in Christ has already come near, and that shows itself in each chance to share the healing and hopeful word of God.

Someday soon, I get to be a grandfather for the first time. Until that day, I’d like my preparations to be worthy of the miracle of the gift of life that God is granting…not just in baby Smalls, but in each and every person who is part of the work and play, service and sharing, laughter and sorrow and joy we are given to share with each other. With God’s help… 

By the way...The name? A result of morning sickness and this.

Fried...

This past Saturday evening, a line of hefty thunderstorms blew through our area. In the midst of what’s been a very dry summer, we are thankful for the rains. But the lightning is a less welcome guest…especially when you consider that, for the second time this summer, a huge power surge came roaring through our phone lines, frying nearly everything in its path. Even the filter which we had cleverly installed after the last incident was no help. In fact, it was literally blown into a pile of carbon-coated pieces. The result is that, since Saturday evening, we’ve had no phones, no fire alarm system, and only limited internet access. Now, really…how are you supposed to do ministry in this day and age without phones, fire alarms, and the world wide web?

I know. It’s a first-world problem. Phone system problems never stopped Jesus from doing ministry. But I have spent the better part of this Monday morning talking to and working with the technicians who know how to fix this stuff, negotiating repair timelines, and keeping our Property Board folks in the loop, and wondering about how we absorb the cost of these repairs for the second time in seven weeks. The result? The alarm system isn’t the only thing that’s fried. I am a bit frazzled, too.

It’s not that I’m complaining. OK…maybe I am complaining a little bit. But really…it’s more that I’m wondering how we keep from getting bogged down in the management of places and institutions so that our energies can be focused more keenly on being Christian and doing God’s work in this place. 

And then it hits me: there is absolutely no reason why these little (and not so little) hiccups have to stand in the way of my doing what I’m created and called to do. The fact of the matter is that, even if all systems were functioning perfectly this morning, I would still have found ways to waste time and not live up to God’s expectations for my life. Sure, the phone lines are messed up. But the deeper mess is within me…in my inability to take each day, with its challenges and possibilities, on its own terms. The real issue is my inability to trust that God can work around our broken gadgets and sagging spirits to get done what really needs done.

Yes…the phones still need to get fixed. But repairing our stuff and our structures is not in and of itself the challenge before us. Lightning bolts will strike without regard for the holiness of our mission or the burdensome size of our insurance deductible. But we need not be fried as a consequence. Remembering and acting upon the great privilege of living in God’s grace, no matter what each day brings: that’s the real issue.

Gotta go. It’s time to let the repair guy into the alarm system panel…and time to let the Spirit more fully into me.

DLN@CCD

O Lord, how shall I meet you...

The congregation I serve had a group of nine young people and two adults in attendance at last week’s ELCA Youth Gathering in New Orleans. They rolled into the parking lot here at about 10:30pm last night...bubbling over with that precious combination of joy and laughter and exhaustion which those events produce. How great it was to hear their stories and to see them hug each other as they finally split up and left for home. And thanks be to God, not only for safe travels and a lot of fun, but mostly for the seed of transformational faith that has been sown in each of them.

But now, of course, they are home. And things will probably be different. I don’t know about the congregation you’re a part of, but we don’t normally worship 35,000 each Sunday…in a huge dome…with a band led by Jimmy Buffet’s guitar player. The usual preacher is not tattooed; he’s not (I hate to admit it) very hip at all. The folks around them will not know Switchfoot from their left foot, and probably won’t hold up their phones or other mobile devices while singing “This Little Light of Mine.” It just wouldn’t occur to them.

So the homes to which they return can’t replicate the experience. That’s just the truth. But, if we are smart and faithful, we will figure out way to receive the experience from them…to value what they have learned and done over the past five days, to engage their stories and insights, and to allow them to have an effect on the joy and laughter and exhaustion that is ministry right here amidst the corn and tomato fields.

“O Lord, how shall I meet you; how welcome you aright?” For some reason, that Advent hymn (probably not a part of the Gathering’s songbook) was running through my head last evening as we welcomed our travelers home. And why not? In our young people, do we not see Christ at work? And, having been shaped by their experience, how does that Christ come to us in them? What word of Good News does He have to share via their enthusiasm and their experience? And how will we let that Good News speak to us? How might it re-shape and re-form the local ministries of which our kids are such a vital part?

The beginning of the Good News is this: Christ comes to us...wearing cargo shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops. It is for the good of the whole church that we listen carefully and engage honestly our young peoples' experience of the faith. We need their questions, their energy, and their hopes. Pray that we receive them…that we receive Him in them…faithfully and well.

Faith in Us...

It’s been a long day of teaching and working the crowds. He tells the disciples to load up the boat and to get ready for a trip across the Galilean lake. And they all go aboard…taking Jesus along “just as he was.” Nothing extraordinary in this: the experienced fishermen-disciples man their stations at oar and sail; the exhausted rabbi rests his head on the pillow in the stern. He trusts his companions to do what they know how to do…to steer their way safely across the waters to the country of the Gerasenes.

So why is it, in the midst of a storm, that these experienced boaters cry out to Jesus? Have they never worked through the suddenness and violence of a wind-swept Galilee? Does their new-found relationship to Jesus expunge from them every bit of knowledge they brought along from their previous careers? I struggle to find an adequate explanation for their behavior…including their willingness to indict their Teacher on the grounds that he does not care for them simply because he has taken a much needed nap.

We often think about faith from only a human perspective…asking questions of ourselves and others about whether or not we have faith in Jesus or faith in God or faith in God’s plan for our lives. Sometimes we might even be so thoughtful as to wonder about whether or not we have the faith of Jesus…that daring, radical trust in God’s favor and power.

But I wonder if this Gospel reading isn’t also (perhaps mostly) about glimpsing God’s faith in us. These disciples, to whom Jesus has explained everything, are entrusted with their own roles to play in Christ’s announcement and enactment of the coming Kingdom of God. Jesus himself apparently trusts them enough to let them do what they already know how to do…safely drive the boat…so that he can do what he needs to do. Unfortunately, they seem unwilling or unable.

Dear sisters and brothers: God has not made us without gifts and abilities. We, however, sometimes hesitate to take up those gifts and abilities for the sake of the kingdom work entrusted to us. Maybe we just don’t want the responsibility. Maybe we are afraid of doing the wrong thing. Maybe we just don’t care. Whatever the reason: refusing to do what we already know how to do for the Kingdom’s sake is more than just a betrayal of ourselves. It is, at the very least, an ungracious response to God’s faith in us.

Lord, have mercy.

Enough already...

I would like to think that I’m a “glass is half full” kind of guy…someone who is consistently able to see and celebrate the gifts and resources that we already have at our disposal for whatever task is in front of us. But…truth be told…I’m just as likely to perceive the glass as half empty.  Way more often than I care to admit, I find myself agonizing over how little we seem to have or how underequipped we are.  I don’t think this is always a bad thing; it’s a good idea to be realistic about what you possess. But the problem: it can be a pretty short leap from there to a kind of paralysis which stifles both creativity and courage.

Two things in the past several days have challenged me on this.  The first was a wonderful sermon (and follow-up presentation) by the Rev. John Edgar at our recent synod assembly.  His work with the Church for All People in Columbus, Ohio, is a wonderful testimony to what can be achieved by simply starting with the gifts God has already given.  The second was a re-reading of 1 Corinthians 1:4-9 in preparation for last night’s Bible study here at Grace.  I was struck not only by Paul’s ability to set-up his argument with the Corinthians, but by his theology of abundance.  He gives thanks for God’s grace that has enriched the Corinthians so that they are “not lacking in any spiritual gift.”  How interesting.  Paul doesn’t start by enumerating their deficiencies (and they are many); he begins by praising God for all that the Corinthians already possess.

It may seem like a little thing…or that we are only arguing semantics.  But I’m beginning to understand that the distinction between “half full” and “half empty” is not little at all.  The unquenchable yearning for what we don’t already have is, in fact, a huge problem in our culture as well as in the church, if for no other reason than that it sets us up for the easy psychological move to victimhood…lamenting our unfulfilled desires, denied rights and burgeoning entitlements.  Recognizing and giving thanks for what we already have, however, opens our eyes to opportunities, and empowers us to work with those gifts for the betterment of the world around us in whatever way we can.

Like a lot of mainline Christian congregations, the one I serve has been through some challenging times the past several years…and we’re not out of the woods yet. Disagreements on social issues and a lousy economy have put a real strain on us. But never along this hard road have we been abandoned by God. Never are we without the resources we need to make a difference for Christ in our communities. In every way, we have been enriched in Christ Jesus (to paraphrase Paul). The challenge is simply to see and then employ what we have…and to recognize that it is enough already.

Confused...

At the end of our discussion, I still had one question: “All that being said Father, and granting the necessity, beauty, and orthodoxy of the Council’s teachings—how did their implementation go so disastrously wrong in the immediate years that followed?”

“The Council called us to find fulfillment in Christ,” he said gently, “but many Catholics confused that with their own self-fulfillment.” Stunned, I finally murmured, “That’s a pretty big mistake.” “Yes,” he replied, with tremendous understatement.

William Doino, Jr.'s excellent article from the First Things blog (available here) is focused on the upheaval in Roman Catholicism resulting from Vatican II. But Father Molinari's comments could easily be made about the upheaval resulting from the 16th century Protestant reformation. Luther and his companions intended that a transformed yet still united Roman church would more clearly focus on finding its fulfillment in Christ, sweeping away the accretions and impediments that the medieval church had accumulated. How is it, then, that so many splits, arguments, dissensions and differences have resulted? Because, like our Catholic sisters and brothers, we Protestants have confused our own fulfillment with the promise of the true and abundant life which is our promise in Christ.


Whenever we are convinced we are right beyond all doubt, it would be helpful for us to humbly recall: When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said, "Repent!" he willed the entire life of believers to be one of repentance. (Martin Luther, "The 95 Theses" Thesis 1)

Telling the story...

Have you ever seen Moses as a stick puppet?

I hadn’t…until this year’s Easter Vigil. The 7^th and 8^th graders were in charge of telling us the Old Testament stories of faith which are a part of that ancient and beautiful liturgy. And the instructions we gave them were just that: tell us the story. Don’t necessarily read us the words out of the Bible, but tell us the story.

And that’s how Moses ends up as a stick puppet…and beautiful pictures fill the screen as part of a creation PowerPoint show…and a dove borrowed from the Christmas decorations flies above Noah’s ark on a fishing pole…and Jonah ends up spending three days in the back of a garbage truck instead of in the belly of a great fish. Not your “normal” Scripture readings, to be sure. But rich and funny and engaging and endearing in a way that only a fourteen year old can be when, as Jonah, he’s pleading with God to “smite me now.”

Teachers of preaching have been talking about it for years…the need to connect God’s narrative for the world to our own narrative…our own life story. Indeed, there is something powerful about getting The Story…God’s Story… into the language of our own story…of telling/sharing/speaking the Word in our own words…that makes it compelling. But this is more than just a good method for preachers. Seems to me that it might just be the essential challenge before the whole church. After all, we human beings love stories. We love hearing stories. We love telling stories. Stories make sense of the world. They put us in relationship with other people and the created order around us. Stories remind us of who we are, and help us share that identity with others.

In this respect, the Biblical story is no different than any of the rest of our stories…except that we share it with the God who gives it meaning…and who, in the process, gives us our meaning and purpose, too. Knowing and telling the Biblical story (or stories, if you will) reminds us of our identity and purpose every bit as much as the ones we tell around campfires and at family reunions and at a child’s bedside…and does so with an eye towards our most important relationship: the one with the God who, in Christ, has created and claimed us as his very own.

Here’s something to try. Read a favorite Bible story from whatever translation you like. Then tell that same story to your family or a friend using your own words and your own imagination. You’ll not only be relating something wonderful and needful to someone you love. You’ll be reinforcing the attachments of your own life’s story to the greatest story ever told.