This fall, we had a sermon series on the letter of James. Ever since, I keep coming back to the notion of humility.
It comes up in scripture every so often, this virtue of humility. How it is good to be humble. It comes up often enough that I even know the pitfalls of humility: that some people's idea of humility is really self-abasement. That low self-esteem is not the same as humility. I say that "humble" comes from the word "human" and that "human" and "hummus" go together, and that to be humble is just to be human, to be mortal, of the earth -- and know it.
That's what I say.
During my studies this fall, I even came across a quote by C.S. Lewis. The gist of it was that humility is not so much thinking less of yourself as it is thinking of yourself -- less.
It made me think about the Japanese woman who once asked me quite earnestly about prayer, "when you pray, do you think of yourself as an unworthy sinner, or do you think of yourself as a beloved child of God?" I had no idea how to answer that question, until I thought that maybe the idea of prayer is not to think of yourself so much at all.
Be that as it may, I still find myself caught in the grip of that mistaken form of humility, low self-esteem. I pick apart my flaws mercilessly, compare myself with any other pastor I can find. I can count the things I have not accomplished, the gifts I do not have. I am very good at this. I am not sure why. I did not have an especially traumatic childhood.
It occurs to me that churches can have low self-esteem too, for one reason or another. Sometimes just being small, in an era of super-market sized churches, is enough to affect churchly self-esteem. Churches are routinely faced with scarcity. And churches decline. Or have church fights (Christians should not fight, we are told). And then feel shame about our size, or our lack of resources, or our bad behavior.
It's not bad to hold up a mirror to ourselves and see our deficiencies. It would not be honest to deny our imperfections. But I am beginning to think that poor self-esteem, for me, and for churches, is sometimes an excuse. It's a way of wiggling out of our responsibility to fulfill the call that God has imprinted on our lives. God can't possibly expect anything of me. I mean, look at me!
God can't possibly expect anything of us. We are small, too small. We are flawed people in a declining church, after all. Something is Wrong with Us.
Even so, the world needs us, and we have gifts to offer. God says so. To believe otherwise is not humble. It's a special kind of pride.
Maybe that's the definition of a humble church: one that knows that the world needs them, and that they have gifts to offer. Because God says so.
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Friday, February 1, 2019
Thursday, February 18, 2016
Heavy
For the last six weeks I have been wearing an orthotic boot on my left foot. I fractured a small bone in my ankle while walking my dog one sunny morning in January. I wasn't doing anything exciting or high-risk. I just stumbled and rolled the foot enough to get a fracture instead of a sprain.
I have never broken a foot, ankle, or leg before, so I was unaccustomed to the extra weight of the boot. I have no idea how much the boot really weighed, but it sometimes seemed like a ton, especially on stairs and at the end of the day. In the scheme of things, it was really a small inconvenience.
But it was heavy.
So lately I have been thinking about carrying around that weight, and how I would have gotten rid of it, but I knew that it was helping me heal. I have been wondering about what I carry around that is heavy, and how much of it is necessary, how much of it is helping me heal, and how much of it might be holding me back.
It's hard to know.
When I came here last summer I did not bring everything with me. The idea was to live lightly for a season; when my husband comes, the rest of our household will come with us. So we debated the question of what was most important and what would be unnecessary weight. Some of that debate was verbal, and some, I suspect, was in the silence of our hearts. What should I bring? What would I leave behind?
It was hard to know.
For awhile now, I have longed to downsize, and have imagined that much of what I have accumulated in the many years of living in one place were also holding me back. It was the weight of actual, physical 'stuff' that was the problem. All of it has meaning, and all of it is terribly difficult to lose, and yet, it is heavy, too. What do I do with the dishes that came all the way back from Japan? The books I have read and those left unread, the knick knacks which were gifts, the affirming cards? I finally made some hard decisions. I thought I needed to lose some weight.
But I have discovered that there is more than one kind of weight in life. It is not just the weight of possessions. But it is also the weight of memories, regrets and hurts held on to. It is the weight of relationships, responsibilities, successes and failures.
On this day early in Lent, the doctor told me I could take the boot off now, take that extra weight off of my foot, and start to walk again. I discovered that it is not as easy as it looks, as I take my tentative first steps. My balance is different now, and I have to strengthen my muscles, to make up for weak ligaments. She told me if it starts to hurt again, I can always put the boot back on.
It would be easy to make a lesson from this: use Lent to remove the weights from your life. Lent is a time for giving it up, giving it away, taking off all that weighs you down. But I am not sure it is quite that easy. Some weights are for our healing, after all. We need to wear them for a time at least, for healing to happen. The trick is in the timing.
Instead I might say this for Lent: that Lent is a time for feeling the weight of your life. It is a time both for picking up a burden and for putting it down, for carrying extra weight or for taking it off. What is most important? What is unnecessary weight?
It is hard to know.
But it is Lent, and maybe that is the first thing to admit. It is hard to know.
Take up your cross; lay down your heavy load. Let God heal you.
I have never broken a foot, ankle, or leg before, so I was unaccustomed to the extra weight of the boot. I have no idea how much the boot really weighed, but it sometimes seemed like a ton, especially on stairs and at the end of the day. In the scheme of things, it was really a small inconvenience.
But it was heavy.
So lately I have been thinking about carrying around that weight, and how I would have gotten rid of it, but I knew that it was helping me heal. I have been wondering about what I carry around that is heavy, and how much of it is necessary, how much of it is helping me heal, and how much of it might be holding me back.
It's hard to know.
When I came here last summer I did not bring everything with me. The idea was to live lightly for a season; when my husband comes, the rest of our household will come with us. So we debated the question of what was most important and what would be unnecessary weight. Some of that debate was verbal, and some, I suspect, was in the silence of our hearts. What should I bring? What would I leave behind?
It was hard to know.
For awhile now, I have longed to downsize, and have imagined that much of what I have accumulated in the many years of living in one place were also holding me back. It was the weight of actual, physical 'stuff' that was the problem. All of it has meaning, and all of it is terribly difficult to lose, and yet, it is heavy, too. What do I do with the dishes that came all the way back from Japan? The books I have read and those left unread, the knick knacks which were gifts, the affirming cards? I finally made some hard decisions. I thought I needed to lose some weight.
But I have discovered that there is more than one kind of weight in life. It is not just the weight of possessions. But it is also the weight of memories, regrets and hurts held on to. It is the weight of relationships, responsibilities, successes and failures.
On this day early in Lent, the doctor told me I could take the boot off now, take that extra weight off of my foot, and start to walk again. I discovered that it is not as easy as it looks, as I take my tentative first steps. My balance is different now, and I have to strengthen my muscles, to make up for weak ligaments. She told me if it starts to hurt again, I can always put the boot back on.
It would be easy to make a lesson from this: use Lent to remove the weights from your life. Lent is a time for giving it up, giving it away, taking off all that weighs you down. But I am not sure it is quite that easy. Some weights are for our healing, after all. We need to wear them for a time at least, for healing to happen. The trick is in the timing.
Instead I might say this for Lent: that Lent is a time for feeling the weight of your life. It is a time both for picking up a burden and for putting it down, for carrying extra weight or for taking it off. What is most important? What is unnecessary weight?
It is hard to know.
But it is Lent, and maybe that is the first thing to admit. It is hard to know.
Take up your cross; lay down your heavy load. Let God heal you.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
A Particular Story
A year ago last June, my husband and I traveled to South Dakota to help celebrate the Centennial of one of the three churches I pastored back in the 1990s.
I had not been back in 14 years, though I had thought about them often since leaving. They were a good parish, a farming community out on a prairie unfamiliar to me. It was a gracious place to begin ministry, though sometimes I had critiqued myself, thinking that I had not done enough "big" things while I was there.
I wondered what it would be like, to see them again. I wondered what the community would be like as well. It's not so easy for rural communities these days: with farms getting larger, towns get smaller. I remembered the many funerals, the handful of new members and baptisms, and wondered what it would be like when I returned.
I was pleasantly surprised to see this church, still small, but teeming with children. Some of them were the children of my former confirmation students. Some were faces I didn't know. There was a sense of hope and vitality, a sense of health. Later on, someone told me that in this small congregation (membership is just under 200) there are 57 children in Sunday School this year. The church attracts: particularly young families.
Ever since that summer day, I've been thinking about this congregation, and about the sense of vitality that I found there. I've been thinking about what makes a congregation resilient, able to bounce back when their are challenges rather than continue to contract. I have also been considering that growing congregations are not all necessarily large: there are growing congregations in every size. I wondered if it was DNA or habits, or something else that mattered.
Here is what I came up with.
1. This congregation sees each of their pastors as uniquely gifted, and uses each pastor's particular gifts. Even mine. So someone came up to me on the Sunday I visited and showed me a copy of a contemporary worship service I wrote while I was there. They wanted me to know that they still use that service, although they had added to and expanded to what I first put together. Every year they purchase a couple more copyrights to favorite songs. Every year the book gets a little thicker. They took the gift I offered them, and they made it their own.
2. This congregation has necessarily become lay driven. This reality is borne out of the challenge that they often got new and first-call pastors who did not stay very many years. But because of that, they have become a lay-driven congregation. I never had all of the ideas. I was just one of the leaders, adding my vegetables to the soup. I had the idea that we should help serve a meal to hungry people at "The Banquet", but there were plenty of other things that happened that had very little to do with me.
3. This congregation is inter-generational by nature. There is no nursery. The children belong to the congregation, and everyone supported and looked out after them. The largest service of the year was always Easter Sunrise, which the youth group planned and executed every year (no sermon). I was also impressed when the leadership board decided that they should cash in some savings in order to build a lift. They wanted their church basement to be handicap accessible. The impetus for this move? a child in the congregation who had Muscular Dystrophy.
And, most important....
4. This congregation has a Particular Story. Well, I suppose that every congregation has a Particular Story, a story that makes them who they are, whether everyone in the congregation even knows it or not.
I didn't learn the story for a long time, and I didn't learn it all at once. I learned first about the cemetery four miles west of the church. Then I would hear references to "The Pleasant Church." Finally I learned that there had once been two churches -- the one in town that I knew, and a beautiful, old country church west of town, founded by Norwegian immigrants.
One terrible day the country church burned to the ground. I don't know if there is anyone alive yet who remembers the story of the fire, but there were some people who remembered it still when I was pastor. Their voices fell still when they told the story of the fire at their beloved church.
Both churches were still lively and bustling at the time; yet even so, the congregation made the decision not to rebuild, but to create a whole new congregation, together with the people of the church in town. The town church was re-named to reflect the belief that they were now a new community.
My telling does not do justice to the Particular Story of this congregation: the hard work, the hope, the persistence, the joy. It is a story of death and resurrection. It is a story of what happens when the worst thing you can imagine happens -- and you find out that it is the not the worst thing that can happen to you.
Last fall, a house two blocks from my current congregation burned to the ground. Almost everything was lost. Our faith community, along with others, took a door offering for the woman and her family. When I talked to her on the phone, she said the fire was, "the worst blessing." It was an odd thing to say, but I think I know what she meant.
A particular story. That is what this congregation has. It has a particular story of "the worst blessing." It has a story that tells them that when the worst happens to them, it is not the worst that can happen to them. It is a story of death by fire. And it is a story of life from God.
I had not been back in 14 years, though I had thought about them often since leaving. They were a good parish, a farming community out on a prairie unfamiliar to me. It was a gracious place to begin ministry, though sometimes I had critiqued myself, thinking that I had not done enough "big" things while I was there.
I wondered what it would be like, to see them again. I wondered what the community would be like as well. It's not so easy for rural communities these days: with farms getting larger, towns get smaller. I remembered the many funerals, the handful of new members and baptisms, and wondered what it would be like when I returned.
I was pleasantly surprised to see this church, still small, but teeming with children. Some of them were the children of my former confirmation students. Some were faces I didn't know. There was a sense of hope and vitality, a sense of health. Later on, someone told me that in this small congregation (membership is just under 200) there are 57 children in Sunday School this year. The church attracts: particularly young families.
Ever since that summer day, I've been thinking about this congregation, and about the sense of vitality that I found there. I've been thinking about what makes a congregation resilient, able to bounce back when their are challenges rather than continue to contract. I have also been considering that growing congregations are not all necessarily large: there are growing congregations in every size. I wondered if it was DNA or habits, or something else that mattered.Here is what I came up with.
1. This congregation sees each of their pastors as uniquely gifted, and uses each pastor's particular gifts. Even mine. So someone came up to me on the Sunday I visited and showed me a copy of a contemporary worship service I wrote while I was there. They wanted me to know that they still use that service, although they had added to and expanded to what I first put together. Every year they purchase a couple more copyrights to favorite songs. Every year the book gets a little thicker. They took the gift I offered them, and they made it their own.
2. This congregation has necessarily become lay driven. This reality is borne out of the challenge that they often got new and first-call pastors who did not stay very many years. But because of that, they have become a lay-driven congregation. I never had all of the ideas. I was just one of the leaders, adding my vegetables to the soup. I had the idea that we should help serve a meal to hungry people at "The Banquet", but there were plenty of other things that happened that had very little to do with me.
3. This congregation is inter-generational by nature. There is no nursery. The children belong to the congregation, and everyone supported and looked out after them. The largest service of the year was always Easter Sunrise, which the youth group planned and executed every year (no sermon). I was also impressed when the leadership board decided that they should cash in some savings in order to build a lift. They wanted their church basement to be handicap accessible. The impetus for this move? a child in the congregation who had Muscular Dystrophy.
And, most important....
4. This congregation has a Particular Story. Well, I suppose that every congregation has a Particular Story, a story that makes them who they are, whether everyone in the congregation even knows it or not.
I didn't learn the story for a long time, and I didn't learn it all at once. I learned first about the cemetery four miles west of the church. Then I would hear references to "The Pleasant Church." Finally I learned that there had once been two churches -- the one in town that I knew, and a beautiful, old country church west of town, founded by Norwegian immigrants.
One terrible day the country church burned to the ground. I don't know if there is anyone alive yet who remembers the story of the fire, but there were some people who remembered it still when I was pastor. Their voices fell still when they told the story of the fire at their beloved church.
Both churches were still lively and bustling at the time; yet even so, the congregation made the decision not to rebuild, but to create a whole new congregation, together with the people of the church in town. The town church was re-named to reflect the belief that they were now a new community.
My telling does not do justice to the Particular Story of this congregation: the hard work, the hope, the persistence, the joy. It is a story of death and resurrection. It is a story of what happens when the worst thing you can imagine happens -- and you find out that it is the not the worst thing that can happen to you.
Last fall, a house two blocks from my current congregation burned to the ground. Almost everything was lost. Our faith community, along with others, took a door offering for the woman and her family. When I talked to her on the phone, she said the fire was, "the worst blessing." It was an odd thing to say, but I think I know what she meant.
A particular story. That is what this congregation has. It has a particular story of "the worst blessing." It has a story that tells them that when the worst happens to them, it is not the worst that can happen to them. It is a story of death by fire. And it is a story of life from God.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Road Bumps on the Way to Better Health
Our family has recently taken the step of joining a local health organization, which has several benefits. Chief among them is the opportunity for my husband and I to go swimming a few times a week. When we first joined at the end of October, we were motivated and found the time to swim about three times a week, which was pretty impressive. Then my husband fell and sprained his wrist in the great ice storm of November 2010, and a few days later I caught a cold, and suddenly, we were out of the habit of regular exercise.
But after a brief span of backsliding, we determined to get back into the habit, despite the cold weather and our busy schedules. (my evening work schedule makes scheduling pool time challenging at times.) I got a bad cold right after Christmas, but I was feeling a bit better after a few days, so we headed back to the "Y" to swim.
The next morning, I was all stuffed up and sneezing again.
I thought I was suffering a relapse of my cold, and fussed and fumed a bit, and took an antihistamine, which cleared up the problem, but made me feel as if I had been hit over the head with a sledge hammer.
However, I've had the same exact thing happen every single time we've gone swimming.
Since high school, swimming has been my favorite form of exercise. I'll admit it has its drawbacks -- especially when it's about 20 below zero. But I've enjoyed the water ever since lake swimming as a little girl, and when I'm swimming in the pool, I'm only competing with myself. Unlike most competitive sports, I feel like I'm good at swimming.
(I've also walked for exercise, but plantar faschiatis has cut into that in the last year or so.)
I've spent a couple of middle-of-the-night computer sessions looking into the swimming/sneezing connection, and discovered that I am not alone.
Some people wear nose clips.
Others rinse with saline.
Some people take an antihistamine.
(I suppose there are others who use a combination of all three solutions.)
I guess that getting healthy is not for sissies, especially if you are over fifty.
But after a brief span of backsliding, we determined to get back into the habit, despite the cold weather and our busy schedules. (my evening work schedule makes scheduling pool time challenging at times.) I got a bad cold right after Christmas, but I was feeling a bit better after a few days, so we headed back to the "Y" to swim.
The next morning, I was all stuffed up and sneezing again.
I thought I was suffering a relapse of my cold, and fussed and fumed a bit, and took an antihistamine, which cleared up the problem, but made me feel as if I had been hit over the head with a sledge hammer.
However, I've had the same exact thing happen every single time we've gone swimming.
Since high school, swimming has been my favorite form of exercise. I'll admit it has its drawbacks -- especially when it's about 20 below zero. But I've enjoyed the water ever since lake swimming as a little girl, and when I'm swimming in the pool, I'm only competing with myself. Unlike most competitive sports, I feel like I'm good at swimming.
(I've also walked for exercise, but plantar faschiatis has cut into that in the last year or so.)
I've spent a couple of middle-of-the-night computer sessions looking into the swimming/sneezing connection, and discovered that I am not alone.
Some people wear nose clips.
Others rinse with saline.
Some people take an antihistamine.
(I suppose there are others who use a combination of all three solutions.)
I guess that getting healthy is not for sissies, especially if you are over fifty.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Repentance
A while back I bought a new diet book, a serious one: The Mayo Clinic Diet. I knew this was was more about developing a healthy lifestyle than about a "get thin quick" method. I think it was around Lent last year, so I felt somewhat virtuous just buying the book. I duly noted (in an intellectual sort of way) that the 5 new habits and breaking old habits at the beginning of the book was similar to the Lenten disciplines of giving up something for Lent and taking up a discipline.I read the first few pages.
I saw the companion journal in the store, and thought about buying it several times. But I didn't.
I did try to walk more often in the spring and summer. In my mind I thought I was going to eat healthier and snack less. But the heel pain cut into my walking time some, and I don't really have a back-up exercise.
A little later I realized that to keep track of some of the things in the journal, I would actually have to record my weight from day to day. I didn't own a scale, so I bought one.
I didn't take it out of the box until a couple of weeks ago.
Last week I bought the journal. I haven't started using it yet.
A couple of weeks ago I went to the doctor. We were talking about my plantar faschaitis and about my family history of cholesterol. She said something about the risk of being "pre-diabetic". There is no diabetes in my family. This would totally be based on my lifestyle choices.
I've got two pedometers. I'm trying to find one of them. I have successfully pushed away a couple of desserts. And I'm working on exercise, with mixed results, so far. I lost a couple of pounds. I gained it back. That's so discouraging.
I've tried not to think of the "warning" aspect of repentance. I like to remind people that what we are turning toward is as important as what we are turning away from. I still think that's true, and that I won't be able to stick to an exercise and diet plan with only the words "pre-diabetic" in my ears.
But there are times when it is necessary to expose the unhealthy, self-centered, unjust, delusional roads we travel on. There are times we need to step on the scale, or go to the doctor, and hear that part of the truth.
I think the challenge for me right now is to figure out exactly what I am turning toward, when I turn away from the dessert and the snacks and sitting on the coach.
Can I keep plugging along even when I get on the scale and discover that it didn't go the right way this time? Can I keep on a discipline even though I fail sometimes? Can I get up and try again, and adjust when something doesn't work?
In a way, it's not such a different question than the the ones that confront me as a pastor, in my ministry. Sometimes, in my ministry, I'll confess, the scale doesn't tilt in the right direction. Sometimes when I reflect I think that I may need to change my habits, not only for my own health, but for the health and the future of my congregation.
Right now I'm evaluating both my personal health, and what habits I need to have and to develop to be an effective pastor. Some things will probably remain the same, and some things will probably change. The question in both areas is this:
"Can I keep on a discipline even though I fail sometimes? Can I get up and try again, and adjust when something doesn't work?"
Friday, August 6, 2010
Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace
Nothing about my life is perfect right now.
For example: recently I've been having trouble doing my most regular form of exercise, walking the dog. My heel hurts, sometimes terribly, and I end up limping like I'm about 30 years older than my actual age. I haven't been to the doctor yet, but I think I have something called plantar faschiatis.
I'm knitting another pair of socks, in the odd moment or two, at the end of long days. I'm still working the basic pattern, with different colors and weights of yarn. The first pair came out all right, except the kitchener stitch. The second pair, with exactly the same pattern, stretched out way too big. The third pair are not exactly the same length. They all have the little holes that I haven't learned how to correct, although I've tried a few suggestions. None of these socks are monstrosities, but, they aren't perfect either.
As everyone knows, my dog is also not perfect (although there are times when I think she is nevertheless, the best part of my life). She was Possessive as a puppy and, although she's much better now, she still has Issues.
I'm currently serving a church in a first-ring suburb, a church in a changing neighborhood, a community with growing diversity, poverty, a growing immigrant population. I find many things about this stimulating. I want to be a part of a church that is diverse in age, ethnic heritage, race. But, this is easier said than done. So, my congregation is not perfect. (I'm not either, so I suppose it's a good fit.)
I'm thinking a lot about social justice, the call to do justice in our community, to stand against racism, to stand for equity, to work on behalf of the little ones. I believe in this. I try to do it. I fail a lot. Sometimes I feel like quitting. I especially want all children, no matter who they are, who their parents are, where they are from, to have a chance to thrive.
But deep down, what I'm really passionate about, even more than justice, is grace.
Nothing about my life is perfect. I'm not going to do all the things I want to do with my life (although I still habor a couple of hopes). I'm going to keep failing, and I need the courage to get up and keep trying, despite my aching feet, despite my roomy socks, despite my church full of sinners (like me). And the over-the-top, never-ending, over-flowing grace of God is the only thing I know that gives me enough courage to keep going. The only thing.
Grace -- God's love to those who waste their whole lives, to those who try with good intentions, to the clueless and the earnest, to the mean and the lowly and the hopeless and those clinging to false hopes. God's love to Marcus Borg-loving liberals and tongues-speaking Pentecostals and everyone in between.
I have to preach grace. But then, say, "Just do it." Do justice. Love kindness. Fail at it, but do it.
After all, what have you got to lose?
"Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."
For example: recently I've been having trouble doing my most regular form of exercise, walking the dog. My heel hurts, sometimes terribly, and I end up limping like I'm about 30 years older than my actual age. I haven't been to the doctor yet, but I think I have something called plantar faschiatis.
I'm knitting another pair of socks, in the odd moment or two, at the end of long days. I'm still working the basic pattern, with different colors and weights of yarn. The first pair came out all right, except the kitchener stitch. The second pair, with exactly the same pattern, stretched out way too big. The third pair are not exactly the same length. They all have the little holes that I haven't learned how to correct, although I've tried a few suggestions. None of these socks are monstrosities, but, they aren't perfect either.
As everyone knows, my dog is also not perfect (although there are times when I think she is nevertheless, the best part of my life). She was Possessive as a puppy and, although she's much better now, she still has Issues.
I'm thinking a lot about social justice, the call to do justice in our community, to stand against racism, to stand for equity, to work on behalf of the little ones. I believe in this. I try to do it. I fail a lot. Sometimes I feel like quitting. I especially want all children, no matter who they are, who their parents are, where they are from, to have a chance to thrive.
But deep down, what I'm really passionate about, even more than justice, is grace.
Nothing about my life is perfect. I'm not going to do all the things I want to do with my life (although I still habor a couple of hopes). I'm going to keep failing, and I need the courage to get up and keep trying, despite my aching feet, despite my roomy socks, despite my church full of sinners (like me). And the over-the-top, never-ending, over-flowing grace of God is the only thing I know that gives me enough courage to keep going. The only thing.
Grace -- God's love to those who waste their whole lives, to those who try with good intentions, to the clueless and the earnest, to the mean and the lowly and the hopeless and those clinging to false hopes. God's love to Marcus Borg-loving liberals and tongues-speaking Pentecostals and everyone in between.
I have to preach grace. But then, say, "Just do it." Do justice. Love kindness. Fail at it, but do it.
After all, what have you got to lose?
"Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."
Friday, June 11, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
too bad for me
i am typing this with my right hand. i'm really not supposed to use my left hand at all.
but i have not been good.
i typed my funeral sermon and my elbow ached.
don't feel too sorry for me. it's not such a bad break.
i need to be patient but i'm not
plus i am discovering how hard it is for me not to write
just notes doodles and stuff
it's like not eating potato chips.
i don't mean typing
there's something about feeling a pen in my hand
some things are hard like
driving
washing my hair
some things are impossible though
i.e. opening jars
can't do it
i will still read blogs but probably not comment
for awhile
maybe i'll write some
haiku
but i have not been good.
i typed my funeral sermon and my elbow ached.
don't feel too sorry for me. it's not such a bad break.
i need to be patient but i'm not
plus i am discovering how hard it is for me not to write
just notes doodles and stuff
it's like not eating potato chips.
i don't mean typing
there's something about feeling a pen in my hand
some things are hard like
driving
washing my hair
some things are impossible though
i.e. opening jars
can't do it
i will still read blogs but probably not comment
for awhile
maybe i'll write some
haiku
Thursday, May 14, 2009
hang-gliding
I broke my arm Wednesday late afternoon. I didn't think it was broken so I stuck with it through confirmation and the pizza party afterwards. We called the nurseline and she recommended going to ER which we didn't do. Instead I got up this morning and went to Urgent Care. I was the first patient, and it didn't take them long to tell me that I did, indeed break it.
It's the radial head, which is part of the elbow. I googled and found out that it's a common injury when you fall and try to break your fall by putting your flat hand out.
I don't have a cast, just a sling, but I'm supposed to check back in a week to see if I'm doing all right. If not, they might put a splint on.
This weekend I'm preaching, but trying to get ahead because we are going to step-son's graduation Saturday in Another Town. Typing is hard (longhand impossible), but one good thing is: I'm already about 2/3's done with the sermon (it's confirmation this weekend). So maybe I'll be ok tomorrow. Driving is no fun either, nor is eating. (I'm left-handed and of course I broke my left arm.)
The Doctor said 2 weeks if I keep my arm immobile like I'm supposed to.
Sometimes it hurts a lot, other times it doesn't bother me.
I don't have a real good story about how I broke it, so if anybody asks you tell them: hang-gliding. yeah. I broke it hang-gliding.
It's the radial head, which is part of the elbow. I googled and found out that it's a common injury when you fall and try to break your fall by putting your flat hand out.
I don't have a cast, just a sling, but I'm supposed to check back in a week to see if I'm doing all right. If not, they might put a splint on.
This weekend I'm preaching, but trying to get ahead because we are going to step-son's graduation Saturday in Another Town. Typing is hard (longhand impossible), but one good thing is: I'm already about 2/3's done with the sermon (it's confirmation this weekend). So maybe I'll be ok tomorrow. Driving is no fun either, nor is eating. (I'm left-handed and of course I broke my left arm.)
The Doctor said 2 weeks if I keep my arm immobile like I'm supposed to.
Sometimes it hurts a lot, other times it doesn't bother me.
I don't have a real good story about how I broke it, so if anybody asks you tell them: hang-gliding. yeah. I broke it hang-gliding.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
A Matter of Perspective
To the participant at our Lenten lunch this noon, I still looked "a little peekid." (If that's the right spelling.)
To the hospital patient who had just had surgery, I was looking "pretty spry."
I'm tired. In the middle of Holden Evening Prayer, I realized I could not sing the high notes. I just totally lost them. At one point I opened my mouth and nothing came out.
I love Holden Evening Prayer. And there are other things that I want to come out. They are sitting inside me, but I'm a little too tired to get them to come out right now.
--watching the IV drip and realizing how important water really is, in ways I hadn't even thought of
-- how our health is related to our sense of connection with one another, and how deeply alienated most of us our from each other, and especially those outside of our own ethnic group, class or race
-- why Jesus REALLY challenges me....
-- and then there are a couple of family challenges that I can't talk about, but would like you to pray for.
To the hospital patient who had just had surgery, I was looking "pretty spry."
I'm tired. In the middle of Holden Evening Prayer, I realized I could not sing the high notes. I just totally lost them. At one point I opened my mouth and nothing came out.
I love Holden Evening Prayer. And there are other things that I want to come out. They are sitting inside me, but I'm a little too tired to get them to come out right now.
--watching the IV drip and realizing how important water really is, in ways I hadn't even thought of
-- how our health is related to our sense of connection with one another, and how deeply alienated most of us our from each other, and especially those outside of our own ethnic group, class or race
-- why Jesus REALLY challenges me....
-- and then there are a couple of family challenges that I can't talk about, but would like you to pray for.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Like the Energizer Bunny....
..... last week I just kept going and going, meeting with a young man who wants to be baptized, doing hospice calls, presiding at a funeral, going to community meetings, meeting with a baptismal family, having coffee with parish members, planning Bible studies. I also planned to attend (as always) our Synod Assembly last weekend, where we would introduce our churchwide Book of Faith initiative, a plan to get our congregations more deeply into reading and hearing and discerning God's Word in the Scriptures.
And I kept thinking, hmmm, I have a little sore throat.
And a little cough. But just at night.
But I wasn't sleeping all that well, because of the "little cough".
And on Friday I got sick. Really sick. I had to leave the Synod Assembly and go home. Actually, someone took me home. We went back and picked up my car on Saturday night.
On Sunday I went to church. I did feel much better, having slept and slept and slept. I also Prayed in Color for the first time, and found it a really meditative experience. Maybe I should have stayed home again on Sunday, but I just couldn't bring myself to miss Sunday serivces for the second time in a month. And I really really really wanted to be there for the baptism, for the little red-headed baby who would stare at me for the whole baptism, and whose fingers curled around mine.
After church, we drove out of town to my mother's home town, where several of my relatives still live. Let's just call it "the farm." It's down in southwestern Minnesota where my grandfather farmed, and where one of my uncles and his two sons farm now. Another aunt and uncle live in town, in my grandparent's house. Going there is like going home.
Scout went with us. She rides well. She had never been to the farm before. We haven't gone down there in years. Too busy. And I told my aunt, "I don't want to do anything. I just want to relax." She made hamburger stroganoff for supper.
After supper, she had invited everyone else in from the farms, for cake and ice cream, for my birthday. It was a little surprise.
Just for a little while, I could remember that I'm not the energizer bunny. I'm not. I'm a sinner, and a child of God, and I live by grace, and by God's love for me.
And the occasional cake and ice cream doesn't hurt a bit.
And I kept thinking, hmmm, I have a little sore throat.
And a little cough. But just at night.
But I wasn't sleeping all that well, because of the "little cough".
And on Friday I got sick. Really sick. I had to leave the Synod Assembly and go home. Actually, someone took me home. We went back and picked up my car on Saturday night.
On Sunday I went to church. I did feel much better, having slept and slept and slept. I also Prayed in Color for the first time, and found it a really meditative experience. Maybe I should have stayed home again on Sunday, but I just couldn't bring myself to miss Sunday serivces for the second time in a month. And I really really really wanted to be there for the baptism, for the little red-headed baby who would stare at me for the whole baptism, and whose fingers curled around mine.
After church, we drove out of town to my mother's home town, where several of my relatives still live. Let's just call it "the farm." It's down in southwestern Minnesota where my grandfather farmed, and where one of my uncles and his two sons farm now. Another aunt and uncle live in town, in my grandparent's house. Going there is like going home.
Scout went with us. She rides well. She had never been to the farm before. We haven't gone down there in years. Too busy. And I told my aunt, "I don't want to do anything. I just want to relax." She made hamburger stroganoff for supper.
After supper, she had invited everyone else in from the farms, for cake and ice cream, for my birthday. It was a little surprise.
Just for a little while, I could remember that I'm not the energizer bunny. I'm not. I'm a sinner, and a child of God, and I live by grace, and by God's love for me.
And the occasional cake and ice cream doesn't hurt a bit.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Four Signs That I Am Getting Old
1. Sore neck -- I had one all day. It hurt whenever I moved it.
2. High Cholesterol. When I first told my aunt, she gasped and said, "At your young age!" But you see -- I fooled her. I suddenly got old.
3. Blurred vision. After I work on the computer for a long time, all of a sudden all of the letters turn blurry! And I can't focus them any more. I have heard that this is a sign of old age.
4. Ugly toenails. Granted, one of them is ugly because I dropped something on it. But still, ugly, old toenails run in my family.
I was young until -- what? -- two days ago or something. I've been young for the longest time. Even the gray streak -- cute (or so I was told). I'm not sure I know how to be old yet. I only know how to be young.
Anybody have any tips?
2. High Cholesterol. When I first told my aunt, she gasped and said, "At your young age!" But you see -- I fooled her. I suddenly got old.
3. Blurred vision. After I work on the computer for a long time, all of a sudden all of the letters turn blurry! And I can't focus them any more. I have heard that this is a sign of old age.
4. Ugly toenails. Granted, one of them is ugly because I dropped something on it. But still, ugly, old toenails run in my family.
I was young until -- what? -- two days ago or something. I've been young for the longest time. Even the gray streak -- cute (or so I was told). I'm not sure I know how to be old yet. I only know how to be young.
Anybody have any tips?
Friday, January 11, 2008
The Truth
I've been waking up every morning with a terrible back and neck ache, and some low grade sinus problems. Today my back is just a little sore, and my sinuses are finally better.
We've been doing some fun things (I'll post more later, if anyone is interested), but I've been disappointed in my lack of energy.
I thought the computer might be behind some of the back issues, so I'm trying to check in briefly.
Also, I had lots of tumultuous dreams last night. One was about trying to get to a pulpit exchange location and losing my car. So I think: I need to stay off the clergy blogs for the next couple of days, too.
Also thinking about the best ways to care for my health these days too. What about you? We are off to our morning walk!
We've been doing some fun things (I'll post more later, if anyone is interested), but I've been disappointed in my lack of energy.
I thought the computer might be behind some of the back issues, so I'm trying to check in briefly.
Also, I had lots of tumultuous dreams last night. One was about trying to get to a pulpit exchange location and losing my car. So I think: I need to stay off the clergy blogs for the next couple of days, too.
Also thinking about the best ways to care for my health these days too. What about you? We are off to our morning walk!
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