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Sermon: Living in the Tension

First Presbyterian Church of Hallock, Minn.

Nov. 7, 2010 + All Saints’ Day

Living in the Tension

Luke 6:20-31

This sermon could not have been preached 100 years ago.  Well, I hope that’s true of all my sermons, but this sermon, especially, would have been unimaginable years ago.  Heck, in many churches still today, it’d still be pretty out of place.  That’s because this sermon is about tension, about living into the questions of life instead of demanding one clear answer above all.  This sermon is about grey, not black and white, because that’s how the reading from Luke strikes me this week.  Jesus, always the challenging speaker, did not leave us with simple straightforward answers.  Perhaps you noticed as you voted last week, Jesus never clearly said: vote DFL or vote Republican or Independent.  Jesus never mentioned how to balance the budget or cut down on prescription drug costs.  Instead, Jesus so often seems to be about challenging his hearers, pushing his disciples and the crowds to think harder and not accept the cultural expectations of the day.  Jesus pushes us to live in the tension. … Continue Reading

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Editing the Bible

also posted at the CENTURY Blog

Does my pastoral role call upon me to edit the Bible?

On most Sundays, the call to worship printed in our bulletin is taken directly from liturgical resources from the denomination. Usually it adapts a psalm so that the leader (a liturgist, not me) and the rest of the congregation alternate speaking the verses.

But a while back I did a double take when copying and pasting a call to worship based on Psalm 103. After a brief discussion on Twitter (a service that makes me a better pastor) I decided to scratch Psalm 103 and write a call to worship I deemed more appropriate for my setting. Was I being a good pastor, sensitive to the congregation’s needs? Or a bad one, editing out the parts of the Bible that make me uncomfortable?

My HarperCollins Study Bible calls Psalm 103 a psalm of “Thanksgiving for God’s Goodness.” It’s a well-known and well-loved psalm: “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name.” Beautiful, epic, a perfect call to worship.

But the psalmist continues: “[Bless the Lord,] who heals all your diseases.” One of our members had recently found out she had cancer spreading throughout her body. While she has some treatment options, the doctors say the cancer will eventually take her life. Yet the call to worship aimed to focus and direct our worship with the psalmist’s claim that the Lord “heals all your diseases.”

I briefly considered editing just that line. Instead, I cut the entire thing and wrote another.

When a congregation meets for worship, members come as they are. Each brings the trials, tribulations, joys and concerns of individual living. It’s impossible to lead a worship service that accounts for the full expression of everyone’s feelings, and that’s not the point. Indeed, I’ve heard poignant testimony from people who in life’s most troubling moments have counted on the thanksgiving and joy found in worship to carry them through. Some want the church to offer thanks even when they are in deepest grief.

But others, while grieving, can’t stand to see anyone giving thanks to God, or even smiling. For these people especially, worshipful words of thanksgiving, joy and celebration fall flat.

Balancing these needs is an impossible task for a pastor. But if I know of a particularly compelling or concerning issue affecting many in the congregation, I feel it’s irresponsible to pretend the hearts and minds of the worshipers are on an even keel.

Some might make the fair point that it’s foolish to even begin editing the lectionary (or a liturgy based on it), as a pastor can never know all the feelings of her parishioners. Some will say that even in the shadow of the valley of death, we must give thanks for God who loves us and sees us through. If that’s you, great–say a prayer for me, edit it as you wish, and heal me of the disease of oversensitivity.

image by Lize Rixt

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Pastors and the word “my”

also posted at the CENTURY Blog

Recently a fellow pastor closed a conversation by saying, “I’ll get my secretary to send you that document from my Christian Education committee.”

I bit my tongue. I wanted to say, “Wow, I didn’t know it was legal in Minnesota to own even one person, let alone a whole committee!”

Ownership language employed by pastors is a pet peeve of mine. Using the pronoun “my” to refer to employees, committees, pulpits, choirs, communion tables–really anything other than actual personal property– sets my teeth on edge. Whatever the speaker’s intent, I hear misplaced priorities and dangerous assumptions.

Overuse of the pastoral “my” identifies the church as overly pastor-centered. If the pastor owns the committees and sanctuary and other employees, the implicit message to others is one of arrogance, control and a lack of welcome. Such language also undercuts the empowerment of the congregation to take ownership of its ministry. If church members hear the pastor referring to things as his or hers, they have less incentive to take responsibility themselves.

Most of all, using such language is just plain bad theology. No person is owned by another, and no committee or choir is the pastor’s alone. Instead, the whole church shares the work of the whole church. Using “my” language is theologically lazy and totally misleading. When the pastor leaves, the work will go on–it’s not for or owned by the pastor. It’s to the glory of God.

With this in mind, I tend to avoid even the phrase “my congregation” in favor of “our congregation.” I hope this communicates that the church is owned by no one person, and certainly not by me. Yes, many people refer to a church as “my church,” and I know what they mean. That’s okay–especially for folks who aren’t the pastor.

Ultimately, however, it’s important to remember that the church and everything and everyone in it belong to God.

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Should I call you “Reverend?”

also posted at the CENTURY Blog

“Should I call you ‘Reverend’?” someone asked me recently. I paused for a moment, thinking a million thoughts at once. I’m not much of a fan of the “reverend” title, in part because of its problematic grammar but mostly because I don’t want to be revered.

“Reverend” isn’t actually a title at all; it’s what’s called a style. It’s similar to calling a judge “the Honorable John Doe,” and some grammarians get their stoles in a twist if “reverend” occurs without the officially correct “the” before it.

More importantly, “reverend” isn’t a noun synonymous with “pastor”; it’s an adjective that means “deserving reverence.” When someone calls me “Rev. Adam,” the absent definite article bothers me a lot less than the fact that I’m being called “revered” just because I happen to be ordained. I’d rather earn respect than be given it by default.

Maybe I wimped out, but I went ahead and told the person who asked that I’m happy just being called “Adam,” but if she’s more comfortable with “Reverend,” that’s fine too. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet–or as sour.

Do you call your pastor “Reverend”? Why or why not? And pastors, what do you prefer to be called?

image made at wordle.net

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Sermon: Harvest Festival

First Presbyterian Church of Hallock, Minn.

Oct 31, 2010

Harvest Festival

Job 38:1-11, 16-18

I.

Ok, I’ll admit Job is not the most common text for a Harvest Festival Sunday, but hear me out.  Job, one of the most troublesome books of the Old Testament, is usually discussed when the question, “Why do bad things happen to good people” comes up.  The thing is, many don’t find the answer all that comforting.  G. K. Chesterton tries to salvage it saying, “The riddles of God are more satisfying than the solutions of man.”  But I still think, any way you slice it, Job is a difficult and challenging book.  Job’s not, at first glance, Harvest Festival-ly.

Today’s lesson comes from Job chapter 38, so let’s catch up quickly on what happened in the previous 37 chapters.  One day, God is speaking with Satan (as God does, apparently) and boasts glowingly about how good Job is–sort of like a parent or grandparent saying their family is the best, you know the type.  The text says Job has all this stuff–7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 500 donkeys, and an F-250 extended cab Ford pickup with alloy wheels.  And God is so enamored with Job who “is blameless and upright who fears God and turns from evil” that God agrees to let Satan curse him and see what happens.  God is certain Job will stay faithful; Satan’s convinced otherwise. … Continue Reading

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Not the answer: Bishop Spong’s Manifesto

Bishop Spong is at it again. In a recent document entitled, “A Manifesto! The Time Has Come” Bishop John Shelby Spong takes a hard-line approach against those who would disagree with his view that the church should fully accept gay and lesbian Christians in its life and ministry. Well, “hard-line” is putting it mildly: Bishop Spong refuses to engage further in the debate over homosexuality in the church. He’s done. Thrown in the towel. Packed it in. He writes:

I will no longer engage the biblical ignorance that emanates from so many right-wing Christians about how the Bible condemns homosexuality, as if that point of view still has any credibility. I will no longer discuss with them or listen to them tell me how homosexuality is “an abomination to God,” about how homosexuality is a “chosen lifestyle,” or about how through prayer and “spiritual counseling” homosexual persons can be “cured.” Those arguments are no longer worthy of my time or energy.”

I have sympathy for such a position to a certain extent. I understand that debate can be trying and tiring. Bishop Spong is retired himself, so retiring from the debate is maybe not such a big deal (though his angry prose is a delight to read).

But in his refusal to converse, Bishop Spong chooses the way of the angry prophet over the pastoral approach. And this is a shame. Those who disagree with him on the question of homosexuality are not demons of the right, but brothers and sisters in Christ with whom he happens to disagree. As any child can tell you, refusing to talk when you don’t get your way doesn’t solve anything.

Have a blessed retirement, Bishop Spong, but this young pastor is just getting going.

image by Sigurd Decroos

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Pastors work only one day a week. Right?

also posted at the CENTURY Blog

When I make a new non-churchy friend, he or she often asks what exactly I do with my time as a pastor outside Sunday morning.

A lot, actually—often more than my three-quarter-time position would suggest. I plan for Sunday, prepare sermons, connect with other pastors, visit the sick and the elderly, plan or attend community events, stay up on scholarship, teach classes, write articles, pray and work with other churches in my denomination. And that’s only on Monday! My non-church friends are often surprised by the range of activities, as I expect many members would be as well.

On a recent trip to Scotland, where I once served as an assistant minister in the Church of Scotland, I was reminded of the different expectations of pastors in that country. In the congregation I served, pastors were expected to visit congregation members for huge portions of their workweeks.

This emphasis on pastoral visiting did not seem to be unique to my congregation. As one colleague explained it, in many parishes there’s an expectation that the pastor “bring the church” to people’s homes on visits rather than people regularly going to church themselves on Sunday.

I write this all because as a part-time solo pastor, I’m hyper-aware of how I spend my time each week. The pastor before me served full time, and our job descriptions are basically identical—though I have less time in which to work. So I’m careful with how I spend my 30 hours.

It seems to me, though, that I would work quite differently than my predecessor even if I were full time. Most pastors have a large amount of personal choice in how they spend their workweek, and because of the range of duties, no two pastors will work in the same way. Serving as a pastor, especially as a solo pastor, involves a lot of self-direction and individual decisions.

In what ways can pastors best balance their own gifts and graces with the needs of their congregations? Is it important for a congregation to know what its pastor is doing at all (or at least most) times?

image by Mohammed Odeh

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