When God goes to school
When I was young, I approached each new school year with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. My love for learning kept me going, but who knew what embarrassments awaited me in the cafeteria. And who would sit by me on the bus?
At some point along the way (in elementary school, I hope) I remember having a breakdown and complaining to my parents in no uncertain terms that I no longer wanted to go to school. I figured I would be just fine sitting at home reading books and researching on the computer. I didn’t want to deal with the challenges of actually going to school. I think my repeated response to my parents’ pleas was the ever-so-popular childish response, “But, why?”
My parents, in their very patient ways, explained the importance of what I would experience at school – the learning, the relationships, the personal growth – and then my dad said something that’s stuck with me. “School is sort of like your job,” he said, “I go to work every day, and you go to school. It’s where you’re supposed to be.” Dad didn’t quite use theological language, but he was getting at the notion of one’s calling, one’s vocation. My elementary-aged calling was to go to school and learn. It’s what society expected I do, but it was also what I could do to serve God best as well.
John Calvin, the father of Presbyterian theology, was a master intellect (and had a profound sense of spirituality). Calvin emphasized the importance of knowledge of the world, but always with the reminder, “that the knowledge of all that is most excellent in human life is said to be communicated to us through the Spirit of God.” Knowledge is a gift from God, just like school. So kids, parents and grandparents, learners everywhere, study away. It’s God’s gift. And as the poem below suggests, keep your eyes open for you might even see God.
Paradise High
by Marcus GoodyearGod slouches at the front of the universe
leaning against his desk, taking roll
with a red pen in his spiral book of life.
He teaches every subject himself,
every grade, every student. He leads
every parent conference appearing
as principal, department head, counselor,
and teacher. At night he walks the halls
alone with a broom and a trash can.
He’s not too grand to pick up
the wad of gum some kid mashed … Continue Reading
Sacred the Body
I wrote this post for my good friend, Kate Giguere Morris, and her blog Thighs and Offerings, where she embraces questions relating to spirituality, the body, eating disorders, and culture.
Sacred the Body
Sacred the body God has created,
temple of Spirit that dwells deep inside.
Cherish each person; nurture creation.
Treat flesh as holy, that love may abide.Bodies are varied, made in all sizes,
pale, full of color, both fragile and strong.
Holy the difference, gift of the Maker,
so let us honor each story and song.Love respects person, bodies, and boundries.
Love does not batter, neglect or abuse.
Love touches gently, never coercing.
Love leaves the other with power to choose.Holy of holies, God ever loving,
make us your temples; indwell all we do.
May we be careful, tender, and caring,
so may our bodies give honor to you.-Ruth Duck
I love this hymn text, but it also troubles me. Then again, maybe the tension is why I love it.
First, my initial reaction to speaking of one’s body as a temple is the negative way I’ve seen the phrase used. Mostly, in my experience, it’s usually male pastors who use the phrase to coax female teens not to have sex. Somehow, the message doesn’t get communicated to the boys as clearly, and really, the “just say no to sex” message is a huge pigeon-holing of Paul’s letter (and bad sex ed, but that’s another matter). … Continue Reading
One Hundred Sermons
A few weeks ago, thankfully without any fanfare, I preached my 100th sermon. I know this number not because I carefully keep track, but because there are 100 files in my computer’s “Sermon” folder. Many of you more seasoned pastors might scoff at a piddly number like 100, but I’m guessing that, of those who graduated from Columbia Seminary with me in 2009, I’m one of the fastest to reach 100. Many others, even most, won’t get there for years. Why?
Many of my seminary classmates are serving as associate pastors at larger churches. In such a position one gains valuable experience by learning from the other pastors on staff. But another perk — or problem, depending on your perspective — is that many associate pastors preach rather seldom. I have friends who preach once a month, others preach once every six weeks, and even a few preach only once every few months. As it would happen, several of the classmates I consider the most skilled pastors in my class, preach only ten or so times a year. I think that’s a crying shame, but their supervisors didn’t ask me.
As I studied for my M.Div. I took a yearlong internship in Scotland, where I preached a bunch. I’m now a solo pastor and preach pretty much every Sunday.
That sais, here’s the top ten things I learned after preaching 100 sermons (pretend the numbering is backwards from 10 to 1,even though it isn’t due to formatting oddities) :
- Context. Context. Context.
- I really like preaching from the Old Testament.
- I really dislike preaching from both the Old Testament and New Testament in one sermon (or, really, any two texts).
- I wish I used my Biblical language skills more, but I don’t.
- 1500-1800 words is usually about right.
- I preach much better with a manuscript than with an outline (though, yes, many people are the opposite).
- I’ve fallen into using about three sermon forms fairly regularly. For this congregation, I think my lack of creativity actually helps many hear the word.
- Pretty much every manuscript, at some point has a line like, “looking deeper, there’s a more complex and challenging interpretation.” (Though I often cut it out of the draft.)
- The size of the space in which I’m preaching, and number of people attending worship, really affects the rhetoric I use.
- Context. Context. Context.
Ok, preachers out there. What have you learned or been struck by in your last 100 sermons?
image by Simon Cataudo
Language and Cancer: What to say, what not to say
“If some metaphors can lock you in enemy territory, others can be a key to help understand what is happening to you. They can be both oppressive and transformative.” So ends an essay by Neil Small, “After the Battle, Journeys with Cancer: Changing Metaphors of Illness”
A few months ago, I went down to the county courthouse and watched a CCTV event hosted by the Hospice Foundation of America entitled, “Living with Grief: Cancer and End-of-Life Care.” It was a good few hours, and I learned a lot.
A book of the same name was published in conjunction with the event. Neil Small’s article on the metaphors we use when speaking of cancer was probably the most immediately helpful. Neil draws significantly on Susan Sontag’s book “Illness as Metaphor” in which she apparently argues against metaphoric thinking when dealing with disease. But as Neil and Sontag acknowledge, metaphors are all over our disease speak like white on rice.
Sorry. Seriously, though, here’s two takeaways from the article.
1. Though use of battle language can be helpful for some patients and families, it might be difficult even harmful for others. For example, if someone’s cancer is incurable, then speaking in terms of “winning the battle” or “fight” or “war” is just not helpful. In fact, it totally misrepresents the situation. This is not to say that battle language might be helpful for some in some circumstances, but to be aware of its inherent danger.
2. An alternative, and perhaps more helpful metaphor, is that of journey or walk. It is a metaphor that can incorporate the ups and downs of cancer treatment, and is able to be used by patient and family alike. As a pastor, I found it a helpful metaphor as it allows me to speak of heaven and death as an arrival, a destination, rather than something to avoid at all costs.
The article is much more complex than this, but those are the takeaways: battle language can be quite problematic, journey language is more likely helpful.
Presby 101 Class Reflection
I’ve led a Presbyterian 101: Reformed and Always Reforming sunday school class over the past four weeks. This won’t seem unusual for many of you, but from what I know of our history here, pastors haven’t taught much in the past few years. So the class was my first real teaching opportunity in my 9 months as a pastor in Hallock. In short: I enjoyed it, I think some others did too, and it still has me thinking.
I’ve been wondering:
- What the heck does Presbyterian identity mean in Minnesota anyway? I mean, we’re surrounded by Lutherans, and we share huge swaths of theology with them. Is it worth it to point out a few of the distinctive PC(USA) traits?
- We briefly touched on predestination on the theology day; it didn’t sit too well with folks. Will Presbyterians ever be able to move past the major misinterpretations of predestination (as fate or determinism, as scary rather than joyful)?
- We spent most of the class time talking about “what we believe” or “what some presbyterians historically have believed” and very little time talking about what class members believed. Did I contribute to the tendency for us to be scared to share our personal beliefs? Do I have any idea what members of our congregation actually believe?
- During the class on worship, several members commented that they had visited presbyterian churches around the nation and even those had a presbyterian feel — described as open, friendly, a similar order of worship and style. Honestly, this surprised me but was interesting.
- In this congregation, we don’t offer much teaching between high school and the “adult bible school” class which is a self-led bible study with the average student age of around 70, I’m guessing (it’s awesome, I’m just being descriptive). Are we dropping the ball on other opportunities, or is that how small churches should work?
- What opportunities are there to continue some teaching through sermons or sermon series? A friend of mind preached on predestination recently (in a “hard issues” sermon series or something) and it was well received. Considering a sermon series of sorts later this summer…
I will pray on National Day of Prayer, but NOT because Congress told me to
Today is National Day of Prayer. I know Congress passes strange celebrations and remembrances all the time of which nobody takes notice. National Day of Prayer (NDP) is different, however, even unique. Churches around the country are holding prayer breakfasts this morning. Services will take place tonight. The country is praying because congress told us to.
After Stushie argued here last week that the National Day of Prayer is constitutional, I’ve been thinking more and more about it. Honestly, I usually let the day pass without much thought. This year, though, it’s irked me more than usual. Perhaps due to the recent federal ruling in Wisconsin which called the day unconstitutional.
I’ll let the lawyers hash out the constitutionality of it all. But, for me, NDP just doesn’t pass the smell test. It smells rotten. I should know. In 2005, I was a member of the St. Olaf Choir when we sang at a prayer breakfast on the National Day of Prayer in the East Room of the White House. President George W. Bush spoke ten feet from the choir, using us as the backdrop. Some very bigwigs on the national religion scene were there. The whole time I — and several other choir members — thought, “this is too weird.” I loved being a guest of the White House, don’t get me wrong, but not that way.
The issue of how a Presbyterian pastor can pray at a inter-religious service is one for another day, but whether the government can urge us “to turn to God in prayer and meditation” seems like an overstep too me. The slippery slope would lead to them next saying what to pray for, when, and how.
In a recent “Sightings” article Martin Marty discussed the changing nature of government-related religion with the phrase “when Baptists were Baptists they knew this…” He also connects the decline of organized religion in Europe to the established state church. I wonder if the current religious environment in the US is confusing our historical awareness. The Establishment Clause of the First Amendment makes clear “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion”. The Free Exercise Clause says congress can’t prohibit the free exercise of religion.
Historians are certainly not clear and consistent with their take on the religious beliefs of the “founding fathers,” and we’ve wrestled with interpreting the First Amendment for hundreds of years. But, even if we know what and how Franklin and John Hancock prayed, I think that misses the point. The Constitution is bigger than the sum of vision of the founding fathers — who owned slaves, never imagined women would preach, or we’d have a lesbian cabinet official etc.
The awesome religious freedom we have in the US is a huge part of what makes this country so vibrant, free, and hopeful. Our government, even though it is made up of us, doesn’t tell us what to believe about God nor how to practice those beliefs.
I will certainly pray today, but not at a NDP breakfast or service. Instead, I’ll take the advice of a guy name Jesus, who I call “the Christ” and the savior of the world. He advised once, “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full. 6But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you” (Matt. 5:5-6).
Update:
- Joel F. Hanisek, in the PC(USA) Mission Yearbook addresses NDP today in more cautious term. Read it here.
- Diana Butler Bass, spiffy church historian, posts on NDP at Huffington Post.
Chronos Management
I know I excel at some things, like sleeping. At others this, I know I struggle….like remembering names. Managing time, though, is beyond me. It’s not beyond me in that I know I can’t do it. In fact, I very well might be quite good at time management. It’s just hard to tell.
I had an interesting conversation with a pastor friend last week in which he said something like, “Everyone assumes I’m so busy, but I’m not. I have a lot of time to do anything I want. My congregation just runs itself.” I do know, for certain, I am not like this pastor. Yes, our congregation could function perfectly well without me, but I do feel really busy. And I’m pretty certain it’s more than just a feeling. I am busy.
So the question: how, if possible, might I improve my time management? What tips do you have for pastors so that they might use their time to God’s glory?
OK, so here’s the main tension I feel. The culture is all about time as a commodity, time as something to be managed, something to fight, something to beat. But the Christian take on time is different. First of all, time is a gift from God. It shouldn’t be something to wrestle, but something to embrace.
So in the New Testament, there are two words for time. “Chronos” is chronological time, sequential time as we usually think of it. “Kairos” is a more complicated term, a time more qualitative than quantitative. Kairos time is the moment when God deems something appropriate, the right moment almost regardless of the time on the clock.
The go to verse to show kairos is Mark 1:14-15 “Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, ‘The TIME is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’” That’s kairos time — a God moment.
So as a pastor, as a Christian, I am aware of the danger of being sucked into thinking time is something to fight against, something to be freed from. In fact, God might be using time to do God’s business. But, all that being true still doesn’t necessarily mean I feel as if I use my time wisely, or that my time is best spent to serve, or even that the way I spend time is faithful at all.
Here’s a few things I’ve figured out re time and ministry, but I’d love to hear more from you all:
- Emails can wait. When getting to the office, reading for 20-30 minutes is a real handy way of scheduling study time.
- Saying “no” is a gift. Saying “no” is often a good idea.
- No matter how many hours I work in a week, it’ll always feel like there’s something more to do.
- Twitter and Facebook are really valuable ministry tools, but I needn’t use them constantly.
- Thinking of my day in blocks is helpful. If I have meetings at night, cutting afternoon work short is a good idea.
- Schedule time to study, don’t just say “I should read this week.” (Ok, I’m no good at this, but I’m aware at least.)
- Sometimes, often in fact, opportunities for real ministry are unscheduled — the conversation at the post office, the person who pops into the office unscheduled.
- Writing a sermon while at the office just doesn’t work. I need to start scheduling more time away from the office and not feel guilty about it.
- Visits — along with study — tend to be the first thing that get cut from a busy week. Some visits to those ill have to be done, the other visits get pushed off easily.
Ok, I’ll stop there. Often, when thinking about this stuff, I recall Eugene Peterson’s book “Under the Unpredictable Plant: An Exploration in Vocational Holiness.” He gets this stuff, but I also don’t quite think his experience is easily translatable to other contexts.
So this friend of mine who says he’s not busy, says what he primarily does is “Spend my days listening for God, and enabling my congregation to do the same.” Maybe that’s something else to keep in mind. May God’s time allow it.
image by Rich DuBose
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