Miracles

I just recently started reading a new book.

I know this isn't big news.  I have a lot of books, and I even read some of them.  This particular book is called "8 Virtues of Rapidly Growing Churches."

Now, this is not a title to which I would ordinarily gravitate.  Not because I don't want to grow rapidly but because I am suspicious of "prescriptions" for growing.  But I ordered this title after recognizing the name of one of the authors (he also wrote a book praising small churches), and because I was curious about the first virtue:  "Rapidly Growing Churches Believe in Miracles and Act Accordingly."

I was both attracted and sort of frustrated by this virtue.  First of all, a miracle is not a prescription.  You can't make a miracle happen.  There aren't 7 steps about miracles.  A miracle is a mystery.  That intrigued me.

The authors almost didn't include this first virtue -- how can you replicate the miraculous?  But it was a part of the story of every pastor and every congregation they interviewed.  Early in the church's history, there were miracles -- the right staff person at just the right time, the gift of land, a lay leader who emerged to lead a ministry.  One pastor told the story of a young man in the congregation who was ill.  The congregation prayed for this young man, and, though it was not instantaneous, this young man experienced healing.  This healing had a profound effect on that congregation.  They began to expect God to show up in new ways in their worship and in their lives.

All of the rapidly growing churches tell similar stories of miracles in their midst.  And because of these miracles, the churches began to pray in a different way.  They began to sense the Spirit among them in a different way.  And they began to see in a different way as well.  They began to look for the Spirit, working in the midst of their congregation.  And finally, they began to act in a different way -- to make bold changes based on where they saw the Spirit at work.

This chapter about miracles -- also talked about failure.  the churches that experienced miracles, also experienced failure.  I'm pretty sure that if this chapter had not mentioned failure, I would not have liked it as much.  The churches dreamed big and made mistakes.  Sometimes big mistakes.  Sometimes painful and discouraging mistakes.  Worship services where no one showed up.

But they learned from those mistakes.  Those mistakes did not discourage them from continuing to look for miracles, continuing to ask where the Spirit was moving in their congregation and in the community they served.

Because of that first chapter, I have been thinking about miracles and failures.  I believe that I have seen miracles here, even though I haven't necessarily been bold to name them.  To be truthful, most of the miracles have been people:  new people who have walked in the door, people who have stepped up just at the right time.

I remember when I first came to this congregation, there were not very many children.  And I remember thinking that I had no idea what to do.  There wasn't a Sunday School, because there were not enough children to have one.  So, I had no idea what to do, and then a family came.  and then another family came.  And then another family came.  And I was still pretty sure that it wasn't because of a strategy of mine, because I had no strategy, except praying fervently, and loving everyone.

It was a miracle.

There have been other miracles, too, small but important.  For some reason, they are all people.  People who stayed.  People who returned.  People who showed up.

I have seen some failures too.  We have tried some experiments that have not gone as expected.  But the idea is to learn from them, and continue to believe that the Spirit is moving among us.  The idea is to keep asking the question, "Where is God leading us?  Where does God want us to go?"

The trick is to not let the failures keep us from seeing the miracles.  The trick is to keep stepping out, sure that God will act among us.

The authors tell a story, a midrash from the Jewish tradition, as part of this chapter.  When the people of Israel were escaping from Egypt, and stuck at the Red Sea, God promised that he would part the sea if the people would cross.  But someone had to step out in faith before God would part the sea.  Someone had to put their feet in the water and take the risk.  There was one man (the story says) he waded into the water.  He waded up to his ankles, and nothing happened.  He waded up to his knees, and still nothing happened.  He waded up to his waist and still nothing happened.  And when he was up to his neck, then God parted the waters and the people of Israel walked across.

That's it, isn't it?  Believing in miracles sounds good -- but it also means that we have to wade out into the deep water sometimes, and that's hard.

Maybe that's why I sometimes keep the miracles I see to myself.  When the Spirit is working among us, it's exciting and wonderful -- and scary.

"Under a Flaming Sky", by Daniel James Brown -- a book review of sorts

I have driven by the sign for almost my entire life.  "Hinckley Fire Museum," it reads.

We stop for gas and a bite to eat on our way up to the resort and retreat areas of the North Shore.  Again, I see the sign.  But I don't go into the museum.  After all, Hinckley is a small town.  What kind of a museum could it be?

One of my college classmates was from Hinckley.  He talked about the Fire Museum some.  He talked about the fire a little too, but it didn't make much of an impression on me.  So every year we see the sign and we don't go into the museum.

This year, though, I was reading the book "Under a Flaming Sky" for my church's book club.  I wasn't at the meeting where we chose it, so I don't know the reasoning.  But I decided to bring the book along on vacation and read it while we were away.

I ended up finishing it on the drive home, as we were driving past Hinckley again.

"Under a Flaming Sky" is a harrowing book.  Brown sets the scene for the tragedy, describing life in the booming little town of Hinckley, describing the weather conditions and the logging practices of the day and the lives of several of the families whose lives would be irretrievably changed on the day.  He describes in detail the harrowing journeys of the two trains that left Hinckley that afternoon:  the northbound to Duluth, and the Southbound train bound for Pine City.  The northbound train with its bedraggled passengers stopped in Sandstone and in Partridge, and those aboard urged the townspeople to flee, but almost no one got on the train.  They just didn't believe that the fire would come there, even with witnesses attesting to its power.  The Southbound train left later and did not fare as well; even so, there were people on that train who survived the fire because of the dangerous journey it made.

One of those families included the author's great-grandmother, grandfather and his two sisters.  Brown's great-grandfather died in the fire; his great-grandmother Marie never got over it.  This book is, in part, borne out of Brown's desire to understand as much as he could about his own family, his own history, forged in the fire.

Logging practices and fire-fighting practices have changed, at least in part because of the Hinckley fire, and others like it.   While some fires are necessary and are a part of the natural order for the forest, so much of what was happening at the time had to do with a lethal combination of weather and carelessness.  I suppose there is some comfort in that, although I can't erase the thought of all of the children who were lost, who could not escape.   And it haunts me to think that, even after Hinckley and Peshtigo and Sandstone and a few other places, it still took several years to convince the logging interests that it was in their best interests to find safer logging practices.

So after reading the book, I am preparing a sermon for this Sunday.  This Sunday's readings contain difficult pronouncements by Jesus of division rather than peace,  the fire that he longs to bring to the earth, the 'signs of the times' that it seems that no one is heeding.  This Sunday's readings contain warnings by Jeremiah about false prophets and their dreams, lists of bedraggled patriarchs and prophets who live by faith in a world that mostly doesn't listen to them.  This Sunday's readings are all about suffering and struggle and division, and it appears that there is very little good news, just as there is very little good news in the book about the flaming sky.

I'm thinking about the sign that I never pay attention to as I drive past Hinckley.  What will make me stop and listen now?  I'm thinking about the people in Sandstone who would not take the train to safety, even with all of the voices urging them, the clouds of witnesses.  I'm thinking about how we can tell the false prophets from the true ones.  I'm thinking that it isn't easy, never hast been easy, to tell.  But one thing I can think about:  false prophets will tell me what I want to hear, whatever that is.  A true prophet will tell the truth, even if it's difficult to bear.

In his time, the people thought the prophet Jeremiah was a traitor.  But he loved Jerusalem as much as everyone else.  It's just that he saw the signs:  the signs of judgment, the signs of destruction.  He saw that the people were on a collision course with their own greed and idolatry.

I've always thought about the clouds of witnesses in Hebrews as those inspiring people from our past who trusted God and lived grace-filled lives. "Keep going," they are saying.  "Keep running." But now I have added another image:  the people on the train from Hinckley.  They are witnesses too, prophets of a sort, telling me that the life of a disciple of Jesus is hard, and fraught with danger.

Half the Church: A book Review

This book was not written for me.  But, it could have been, once upon a time.

Let me explain.  When I was growing up, the Lutheran Church did not ordain woman.  As I approached young adulthood, that changed, but at the same time, I had begun to worship with a less Lutheran and more evangelical set.  So, even while women were opening doors in my denomination, I was struggling with whether I thought women should be ordained.

The book Half the Church is not written to address the subject of ordination of women.  Carolyn Curtis James addresses the issues of women's empowerment while side-stepping the issue of whether women can in fact be called to public ministry. 

Make no mistake, she is passionate about empowering women, having been convicted about the de-valuing of women and girls in many parts of the developing world.  Jumping off from the best-selling book, Half the Sky, by  Nicholas Kristoff and Sheryl WuDunn, she notes that the key to empowering communities is actually valuing women's contributions, and empowering women.  She also rightly recognizes that it is time for the church to understand that the call to do justice is part of the call to proclaim the gospel.

Ms. Curtis James persuasively argues that scripture is a resource for discovering models for strong women, leaders, crusaders for justice.    If you read this book, you will find some strong women here:  Eve, Ruth, Mary.  Her exegesis and stories are persuasive.  I also appreciated her appropriation of the "bride of Christ" metaphor as a strong church in partnership with Christ, to bring justice and healing to the world. 

However, as one who struggled with the issue of ordination as a young woman, I find myself disappointed in her refusal to take a stand on way or another.  She's passionate about women in leadership; just not willing to take a stand for women's voices in the pulpit.

Disclaimer:  I received this book from Zondervan to review, with no expectation that I would give a positive review.  I have another one to give away to anyone who would like one.

Healthy Congregations

I have stayed up the last two evenings reading Peter Steinke's book Healthy Congregations: A Systems Approach. Since the Senior Pastor retired last week, I'm temporarily holding down the fort until the arrival of a savior, um, interim pastor in a few weeks. I know when a congregation is in transition as ours is, there is a potential for a lot of anxiety, so I thought it might be good if, as much as possible, I try to be part of the solution more than a part of the problem.

To that end, I'm really concentrating on the basics of ministry: worship, preaching, pastoral care. I haven't really had that much time to think about it, as there were two funerals last week, there is a funeral tomorrow, and I have a funeral again on Wednesday. Next week begins two weeks of all-day Vacation Bible School as well. During the second week, I have some program responsibilities as the daily "storyteller".

Peter Steinke's mantra is to learn to be a "non-anxious presence" in your congregation. I'm really wanting to look at our congregation and not just see the individuals, but look at the systems and how people inter-relate.

The chapter I'm thinking most about right now, tonight, though is this: the picture of the congregation and pastor who have a kind of a romantic, "in love" relationship. Steinke says that this is not a healthy situation, because the congregation and pastor aren't looking at each other realistically (maybe also they are not differentiated from one another), so they can evaluate effectiveness.

He also made me think about the aspect of the church as a business from a different perspective. He said that sometimes churches encourage a kind of fuzzy thinking that allows evil or manipulative people get a foothold, because the systems of accountability are not as stringent as they might be in a business. While I can see his point, I do also think that evil or manipulative people have been able to get into businesses as well as churches.

My own congregation is at a cross-roads. These can be exciting times. We are in a changing, diverse community, which means that we are going to be on a high learning curve for awhile, as we learn how to reach out faithfully, welcome others and proclaim the gospel to and with others. But, when we start to realize that "the way we have always done things" doesn't quite work any more, that can be very threatening as well.

They Are Us: A Book Review

Not many days after our return from New York and Ellis Island, I happened to make a visit to our local seminary's book store (a veritable garden of delights and temptations, by the way). While I was at the counter making other purchases, I noticed that the book They Are Us: Lutherans and Immigration was prominently displayed. Of course, I had to have one.

This is not a difficult or scholarly book, but it is full of passion for the gospel, and passion for the people who are coming to our shores. We are not too different than they, the authors remind us, telling the stories of their own immigrant ancestors. The book highlights the need for both advocacy and mission. The advocacy section is not particular to Lutherans, although I believe that the positions outlined are the positions taken by Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Services. The authors contend that our immigration system is broken, and offer illustrations that make their case. Here are the four questions they believe we should ask regarding any immigration proposal:

1. Does the proposal promote familiy unity?

2. Does the proposal promote human rights and worker rights?

3. Does the proposal enable those without status to come out of the shadows and live without fear?

4. Does the proposal provide a path to permanence as a full member of society?

The authors also do a good overview of the history of immigration in our country, from colonial tmes to the present. They also contend that even if we differ on immigration policy, we can agree that it is our responsibility as Christians to welcome the stranger, and to share the hope of the gospel with all those in our communities, and particularly those who are newcomers and vulnerable. They highlight several Lutheran churches who have been renewed and revived in their mission by doing just that.

This book's strength is also its weakness. It speaks to Lutherans, and from a particular Lutheran perspective. I am glad that the great work of Lutheran World Relief and Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Services are highlighted. But I think both the policy questions and the ministry questions would be great for churches of all denominations and theological positions to wrestle with. I wish there were a more generic version, so that more churches would have the opportunity to join this most important conversation.

By the way, this is book #27.

Book Review #1: March

"We have had enough of white people ordering our existence! There are men of my own race more versed in how to fetch and carry than you will ever be. And there are Negro preachers aplenty who know the true language of our souls. A free people must learn to manage its own destiny." (March, p. 268).

This line, spoken near the end of the novel March by an African-American woman named Grace, has stayed with me for several days. I turned a flap on the page down just as I read it, and have returned to it often. Perhaps it is because I have been thinking about the Civil Rights Movement recently, and the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Perhaps it is because I have been thinking about Barack Obama's candidacy, and what it means, and doesn't mean. (I skimmed Shelby Steele's latest essay/book at the bookstore recently; he weighs in on Obama's candidacy himself.) Perhaps it is because I've been hearing about Bill Cosby's crusade lately as well, how he has been traveling to speak to black communities in large cities. By far the most radical thing I have heard that he says, is: I don't care what white people think.

That being said, this is not one of the main themes of the novel, by Geraldine Brooks. This book imagines the absent father from Louisa May Alcott's novel, Little Women. As Alcott's novel imagines how these four young women grew up during one year, so also this novel imagines how Mr. March (and Marmee, as well) grew from his experience of war. We meet both March and Marmee as both idealistic and flawed people, who love each other but hurt and misunderstand each other, and whose best intentions sometimes result in tragedy. It's not just their sins, but their virtues that sometimes wound.

The depiction of the war is also harrowing and heartbreaking: realistic in the cruelty of the South and the mixed motives of many in the north.

We will be discussing this book tomorrow at our church's book group meeting. I'm looking forward to what more we will uncover.

with nods to Besomami for the idea of recording and reviewing books finished in 2008.