Sermon: "Called Together" Jer 1:4-10
I’ve been quite busy and just collecting a list of posts I want to write rather than blogging as much as I prefer, but all in good time. Here’s a bit of insight into what I’ve been up to, however–with great thanks to my Pastor Study Group.
Adam J. Copeland
First Presbyterian Church
Hallock, Minn.
Jan 31, 2009
Called Together
Jer. 1:4-10
I spent a few days last week in Montreat, North Carolina with a group of six other Presbyterian pastors. We had a fantastic time delving into what ministry looks like in each of our very different settings. One of our group members is a pastor downtown in a city of 10 million; another works 20 hours a week in a congregation with about thirty souls in worship each week; another serves a congregation in a declining neighborhood–fifteen years ago the church had 1600 members; now the enormous sanctuary dwarfs the 250 members remaining. As we discussed in the New Members/Refresher class this morning, what constitutes a “church” these days is an incredibly diverse, and sometimes quite complicated.
In preparation for our time together, my pastor study group read the book, “Direct Hit: Aiming Real Leaders at the Mission Field” by Paul Borden. It’s a fascinating read and generated some stellar discussion. Borden is a church mission specialist who focuses on visioning, strategic planning, and systemic change. Big change. It was interesting for us Presbyterian pastors to think about systemic change in the first place, after all you know the old Presbyterian joke, “How many Presbyterians does it take to change a lightbulb?” “Change???” Or, the other punch line: “How many Presbyterians does it take to change a lightbulb?” “Well, first you form a committee to nominate a task force to call a meeting to present to the session what committee may decide whether or not the general idea of change is something they may consider in three to five years.”
Sure, change is really difficult in any organization, especially the church. But most of us, myself included, thought this book of Borden’s suggested going about church change in a really dangerous way. Well, Borden talked about looking intensely at one’s community, about prayer, and careful discernment as to what God has in store for a congregation–that part was great–but, the vision for change, what the church should become, for Borden, is almost solely the vision of the pastor. Us pastors thought that was a really dangerous thing–one person, a mere pastor, developing the vision for an entire congregation. Most of my group just had a different idea of how pastors should lead than what Paul Borden suggests. We didn’t think we had all the answers. We didn’t think we had the clear visions. And we did think, for sure, that we make plenty of mistakes.
Maybe another way to put it, after reading today’s Old Testament lesson, is to say that my pastor group shared Jeremiah’s initial hesitancy to his call. And we, like Jeremiah, heard a response and call from God. But the specific words are hard to hear. My group members, and I in particular, do not hear a specific ten-point strategic plan in response to our prayer requests. While God speaks clearly to Jeremiah–even putting words in Jeremiah’s mouth–it’s rare for me, at least, to hear God’s voice directly. Instead, I find that God’s call for me, and I expect God’s call for most of us, comes in quieter tones. God speaks, but in indirect ways, through community, through experiences, through trial and error and never-ending love.
These verses of Jeremiah are usually referred to as “The Call of Jeremiah.” And they do follow some regular patterns of God calling folks in the Old Testament. God usually calls God’s prophets through an encounter with God, and God speaks to them–remember Moses and the burning bush, this story in Jeremiah and the story of Isaiah, and Gideon, and Ezekiel. God calls, and in most cases, the prophet rejects God’s invitation.
It like every time God picks out the fancy paper for an invitation and goes to the bother of writing everyone’s names real pretty-like on the envelope, God gets rejected with some excuse. … Continue Reading
Sermon: "One Different Body" 1 Cor 12:1-31
Adam J. Copeland
First Presbyterian Church
Hallock, Minn.
Jan 21, 2010
One Different Body
1 Cor 12:1-31a
A member of ours shared with a committee this week how vividly she recalls getting glasses in first grade or so. Glasses then were not as cool as glasses now (now, as you can see, they are the height of fashion). But this member had the old kind with pointy wing tips. Remember those? They were all the rage for a few years.
Well, she remembers the first day she went to school wearing her new glasses. The memory etched in her retina is that of six or seven classmates standing around her desk, staring directly at her. And for some reason she didn’t remember this fondly. That’s the sort of thing you’ll remember forever–half your elementary school class staring at you out of shock and horror of what’s on your face.
No doubt, we all have similar childhood memories of some sort–if we haven’t repressed them by now. There’s just something about children that hone in on anything different. Wear, try, think, be anything out of the ordinary, and you’re the talk of the class (and not in a good way).
We don’t know how the apostle Paul behaved in first grade, but we do know what he thought about differences in the body of Christ. Paul preached that differences are essential, that differences are God-given, that differences–ideally–bring us together to be one strong body of Christ.
14 Indeed, the body [of Christ] does not consist of one member but of many. Now remember the context here. Paul is writing to the church in Corinth, or probably small churches he helped start a few years back. But he eventually left them and then he hears that folks weren’t getting along too well. They had arguments about lots of things, different points of view and different ideas on what is faithful.
That’s not much different from many churches today, actually. A pastor friend of mine says when her session meets, they usually have about twelve session members and at least fifteen opinions. So Paul tries to explain this strange concept of one body but many body parts, many members of the body. Paul writes, … Continue Reading
A Different Sort of Call Story
Deacon training is done. Elder training will be on-going. Both Elders and Deacons are now ordained and installed.
I used ThePresbyterianLeader.com resources for Deacon training to a good result. The curriculum is cool because it comes in two parts — Leaders Guide and Participants Handout. The Participants Handout comes as a .pdf, and can be emailed to new deacons so they read up before a training session. The Leaders Guide is just for the leader, and has many good exercise suggestions that are adaptable to any group. Definitely check out The Presbyterian Leader.
The nominations, training, and ordination process of elders and deacons got me to thinking on the nature of the call process for officers in the Presbyterian church. For instance, I have recently finished around a five year ordination process. Along the way, I probably shared my “call story” twenty times formally, and many more times informally. But — and I’m just being honest here — the call process for elders and deacons in my congregation felt a little more like arm-twisting than any holy call or anything. Totally, God works through arm-twisting, but I’m struck at the huge differences between the call processes.
This leads me to reflect upon the decline of the eldership in the Presbyterian church overall. I don’t have much time here, and I’m mostly just dangerously guessing and generalizing, but 
… my impression is that the office of elder, historically, carried much more weight than it does now. I’m guessing elders used to see their service as elders in a very different sense than a community board, and now many see their positions as more plain governance than spiritual leadership? Maybe I’m way off here, I hope I am. But if I’m not, I wonder how to reclaim that traditional role. I wonder what pastors can do to lead elders into a new sense of call. I wonder how to make session meetings feel less like board meetings.
A Good Word to End Worship
When I lead worship, I try to stay out of the way. Sure, I say plenty of words and all, but if they are led correctly they point to something greater than myself. So, here’s my conundrum: whether the charge and benediction at the close of the service should be my words, as in reflecting the crux of the sermon. Or, whether the charge and benediction should be one common to the tradition and unchanged each week.
[We interrupt this blog post to give a quick working definition of “Charge” and “Benediction.” The “Charge” usually occurs at the close of worship when the pastor says, “Go do this, be this, live like this....” The “Benediction” often follows and is the “May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God...” part.]
Partly so I don’t get in the way, and partly just due to my skill-set, I tend to write most of the worship words I lead (or at least their general idea) before I speak them. For example, the sermon manuscripts I post on the blog are probably about 90% of what I actually say, and 10% of the sermon I actually preach is adds or subtracts or rewordings of the manuscript. My prayers are similar, though I ad lib a bit more in the Prayers of the People when the Spirit moves.
But I just don’t know what to think about the charge and benediction. I know a pastor who speaks a different charge each week as he walks up the aisle of the church before shaking hands at the front door. This works for him — speaking new words each week, and “processing” while he does so. The pastor looks folks in the eyes as he walks. That’s great, but I do wonder if the spotlight is a little bright on him at this point in the service.
I know another pastor who speaks the same benediction each week for a given liturgical season, one found in the Book of Common worship. The congregation then responds, participating in the charge themselves (L: Go in peace. Love and serve the Lord. P: Thanks be to God. Alleluia!) I like this fine too, but I also wonder if it’s too repetitive, surely not boring, but maybe not inspiring either.
So help me out here. Do you like benedictions that are mini-summaries, refreshers-almost, of the sermon? Do you prefer strict tried-and-true liturgy? Do you know a better way? I charge you to share a good word with us.
image of Pastor Amy Starr Redwine, Firestone Park Presbyterian Church, Akron
Sermon: "Plans, Upended" John 2:1-11
Adam J. Copeland
FPC Hallock, Minn.
Jan 17, 2009
Plans, Upended
John 2:1-11
It’s difficult to find a native Floridian living in Tallahassee, my home town. A bit different from the Kittson County area, it seemed at least, growing up, that all my friends’ family had moved to Tallahassee at some point not too long ago. And not only that, but they didn’t intend to stay there long.
“Maybe we’ll stay for a few years,” they thought, but rarely did these folks plan on staying in Tallahassee longterm. But there is something about the town that changed people’s plans. Who knows the reason, but I do know there’s many a person now living in Tallahassee–and planning to stay–who in the past hadn’t planned to live there long at all.
Plans change. Heck, plans are often completely upended. Many times for the better. An unexpected child is born and life is never the same. The woman who planned to stay single falls in love with that guy. Or–and I say this as a part-time salesman–you go into the store not planning on buying anything and you end up leaving with a full bag of stuff you didn’t know you needed. Plans, upended.
And, of course, plans also change due to tragic circumstances. Disease strikes. Fire rages. Evil hits. Disaster shakes us almost too hard to manage. Millions of Haitians had never foreseen this week’s horrid events in Port-au-Prince. Nobody plans for natural disasters, particularly not for earthquakes that only strike every 200 years. Or, closer to home, a beloved church building burns to the ground. [For online readers: sadly, the Methodist church in the neighboring town of Humbolt burned down 1/16/10.] We’d never imagine that. Plans, lives, upended.
The gospel of John doesn’t say a thing about Jesus’ life before his public ministry began. We don’t hear if Jesus was a well-behaved child, or if he could identify the alphabet by kindergarten. In fact–get this–the writer of John never even gives the name of Jesus’ mother. John must not concerned with such details. So, perhaps that makes all the more interesting the way John describes the wedding in Cana. Our tale functions as Jesus’ main entrance into public miracles, his coming out party, but it wasn’t what Jesus had planned.
As far as we know, Cana was a pretty small town, about 10 miles north of Nazareth. It’s not clear whether Jesus journeyed to the town to attend the wedding (whoever’s wedding it was, John doesn’t say), or if Jesus and his disciples were just passing through and the wedding party invited them over. Who knows, maybe it was those extra invites that bumped up the guest list and caused the hosts to run out of wine in the first place. But, in any case, John does say: the wine gave out.
No matter what culture you’re in, that’s bad news. Having the wine run out at a wedding is maybe even worse than having the beer run out during a Vikings playoff game. The situation, clearly, was dire.
So Jesus’ mom comes up to him and just casually mentions, “They have no wine.” And Jesus says, “Woman, what concern is that to you and me?” Now his response isn’t as rude as it might seem to us, “woman” was just a descriptive term, not an insult or anything, but his response was certainly not overly warm. “What concern is that to you and me?” Jesus said, “My hour has not yet come.” … Continue Reading
How Twitter Makes Me a Better Pastor
As a new 3/4 time rural pastor, I’m surprised to find that Twitter is a hugely important ministry tool for me. Without it, I’d be a much poorer pastor and would feel considerably less connected to supportive colleagues.
Before I began my position four months ago, I never would have guessed how helpful — to mind and soul — I’d find Twitter as a pastor. But here’s one simple real life example from last week. I was planning Deacon Training a few days before the meeting and I realized I had no idea whether I should give the new Elders and Deacons Book of Orders when they were installed. My gut said, “yes,” but that wasn’t the practice of the church — and those BOOs aren’t cheap. So I didn’t know what to do. In such situations, since my experience is fairly limited, I find it’s good to see what’s common practice in the church. So, I put out a Tweet:
do all elders and deacons get new copies of the Book of Order at their installation in your congregation? #pcusa
And within an hour, nine pastors and elders had tweeted back and told me the practice in their experience (incidentally, all reported giving the Book of Order to all elders and deacons).
I could have called my pastor friends around the country and asked the same question, but I saved a good deal of time and had a more public chat about things. Eventually, the thread branched into discussing elder and deacon training in general, which was helpful too.
One of the challenges of rural ministry is that it’s easy to feel like you’re in ministry all alone, unsupported by other colleagues. This is especially true for me as my congregation is located many miles from the next Presbyterian church (I’m thinking the next full-time Presbyterian pastor is at least 50 miles away, if not more). So, what a joy it is to be able to get feedback and support within minutes of a tweet.
I often find good articles from other pastors on Twitter, and support and am supported by others in prayer through tweets. Most importantly, though, I have an overwhelming sense that I’m doing ministry with friends and colleagues all over the place. When it comes down to it, Twitter expands and deepens my ecclessiology — it helps me see what I know makes what I know to be true intellectually, that the church of Christ is so much larger than my congregation. Through Twitter, I can see this church at work.
Sure, Twitter is not a replacement for in-person pastoral care, but it is at least a new and exciting form of pastoral support. Sure, my weekly in-the-flesh text study meeting with four local pastors is probably more essential to my ministry than Twitter, but Twitter augments each day with handy pastoral tidbits that make me a much better pastor.
So, to all pastors out there who think Twitter is just for fun, or simply ridiculous, I assure you it can be a fine ministry tool. Check it out, and @ me some time. Peace, from @ajc123
Sermon: "Baptized to Serve" Luke 3:15-17, 21-22
Adam J. Copeland
FPC Hallock
January 10, 2009
Baptized to Serve
Luke 3:15-17, 21-22; Isa 43:1-7; Acts 8:14-17
Recently, I spoke to a pastor about a workshop she was organizing at a Presbytery conference. The workshop, she said, will address the fact that many folks in the U.S. aren’t growing up with the same exposure to church culture as they used to. In the past, it was more or less assumed that somebody who came into a worship service would at least know how to read a bulletin, find a Bible, and look up the scripture reading. Now, though, we, can’t assume a visitor could distinguish a hymnal from the Bible, so churches need to consider new ways of making worship welcoming to guests.
Maybe we don’t think too much about this in Hallock, but this pastor on the east coast sees it as a really big issue for her presbytery. How do we help new visitors feel welcome if the only time they’ve been in a church is for a funeral? Or another way to think of it: if you’d never been to worship before, what would our regular worship service look like? If you were an alien from outer space scouting out Hallock Presbyterians, what would you report about worship to your mothership?
Well this morning at least, an alien would have even a more difficult time than usual. The gospel reading is on Jesus’ baptism, the epistle reading declares the power of the Holy Spirit in baptism, the Isaiah passage is all about God’s creative power and redemption. And, as if those weren’t enough theological high jumps, today we ordain and install Elders and Deacons to leadership in the church. That’d be quite a lot to explain to a worship newbie.
Now there’s no way one sermon can really address all these issues, and it’s probably not even a good idea to briefly skim the surface. But, if we had to put this morning in one sentence to a first time visitor we could say: We are all called into ministry through our baptism (some called particularly to be Deacons and Elders) and our ministry is empowered by prayer and the Holy Spirit. … Continue Reading
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