...still want to be the cool kid...

The desire to be the popular one that everyone talks about never goes away. "Have you seen so and so's exploding ministry?"

Colleagues drop names and kiss ass.

We all want to be "that guy." And I pretend that I don't want to be that guy... but I want to be the cool kid. Secretly I want to be the one everyone talks about... and I hate this part of myself.

So often the work of clergy go unrecognized not just by parishioners but by the high leadership of the church. We save face and always try to make our lives and ministry look shiny and spectacular. We throw around people like they are just another number. So and so took a church from 50 to 200 people.

And I get caught up in this all the time. It is probably why I get so depressed when I spend time around other clergies. Because I am reminded of my own desire to be the cool kid. And maybe my cool kid friends on the other side have given up the fight. They have sought the accolades and it worked.

"In the Name of Jesus" by Henri Nouwen is one of those books that I read over and over again. He spends a lot of time talking about the upward climb that we all do including clergy. We seek our affirmation in people and things and not in the love of God. Even Jesus was susceptible to this temptation as well. In Christ, we recognize that our lives are not built upon accolades but all the sustaining love of Christ. I don't need anything more. I don't need to nor ever will need to be the cool kid.

Just this past evening I had the privilege to introduce my congregation to the work of Henri Nouwen and to his concept of the wounded healer. We talked about how our wounds make us more sensitive and caring towards others. And our wounds that can be so painful at a point in our lives can be a healing balm for others later in our journey.

After the bible study, a gentleman came up to me.... and got close. He said, "You know... I never believed I was a child of God my whole life until... you told me that I was. You are my wounded healer..."

For me, it was a powerful affirmation that I am doing exactly what I need to be doing. Other kids can be cool...

A Coke and a Pack of Nabs

A few weeks ago I sat with one of my favorite parishioners at his home. We didn't immediately hit off when I first arrived at the church. I didn't get him and he didn't get me. Some people are okay to reside in this tension with no resolution. But for the both of us, I think we wanted to be friends but couldn't find the road to get there.

 I would come home from a church event and my wife would ask me how it went. I'd say the church event went great but I don't think so and so likes me and I can't figure it out.

This person had a great relationship with everyone in the community but not with me his pastor. I couldn't figure this out.

Then one day there was a knock on my office door. And it was him. I was nervous and surprised. I invited to come in and sit down. He asked me if I wanted to drink a coke and eat a pack of nabs (at 10am in the morning). The immediate answer was probably not right now... but my real answer was yes lets feast and drink!

At that moment the nabs and coke became our bread and wine blessed by God. We celebrated that we actually are two people that can get along very well. We could actually be friends. We spent a few minutes together and then he went off on his day. I actually didn't think much of that moment. There would be many more knocks on my door. He would often times remark... if those people who didn't like you... would come and do what I did... they would know how real and kind you are...

As we sat together in his living room talking. He told me with a tear running down his face. That day he knocked on my door with nabs and a coke changed him. Not only did that day change him... it changed me.

We have to get rid of the liturgy... young people don't want it

As I was getting ready to leave after a long Easter morning of services I walked to my car with one of my parishioners. He was telling me that they went to a non-denominational church early in the morning. I could see the excitement in his face about this new experience in worship. He loved the upbeat lively music. He loved that the pastor preached for a long time (40 minutes). And then to top it all off... the service was simple. Sing, preach, sing, go home... Botta bing Botta boom!  And this is the type of rhythm we should adopt in our church... away with the rhythm we feel God has called us to practice. 

Grant it... I am tired... I am ready to go home... and he just pushed my liturgy button! 

I had a lot of questions about his experience. My first thought was that our worship experience is no longer shaped God but by people. 

It is about what we want... what makes us feel good... and this is on both sides of the so-called contemporary vs. traditional stupid debate. 

Or we see what other churches are doing that are working or that we like... we get jealous... and then we have to do whatever that thing is. 

There is a rhyme to the reason. We worship the way we do for a reason. I don't think the problem is with the liturgy... it is with us. 

We have lost the rhythm. God hasn't... we have. 

Our liturgy is spiritual. It doesn't need to change one bit. Why? Because it is God created and ordained... yet we often times receive the liturgy with half-heartedly.

Consider a song... Almost every popular song has multiple components: Intro, Verse, Chorus, Bridge, Tag, Outro. If one of these components was missing... the song would feel weird... it would seem like it was going anywhere. 

I know what my friend desired... let's take out the confession... then we can have a service like the one I attended this morning... then I could preach for 40 minutes. Sure...we could do it... but we just took out the chorus... now the song will feel weird for us. 

I am surely not saying that this other church is wrong. They are worshipping the way they feel God has called them to worship. Yet the difference between us and them... is that they are owning their song... all the while we are complaining about ours... 

I don't think the liturgy needs to change (for which God gave us from scripture)... I think it is us. 

No one gets it...

During Holy Week I've invited my congregation to practice various spiritual disiplines while interacting with the scripture. Today the practice is journaling. So here I am... journaling... The scripture we are reading comes from John 13:21-30 Jesus foretells his betrayal. 

I am particuraly fond of using these words during the Great Thanksgiving, "On the night in which Jesus was betrayed he took bread..." Most Great Thanksgiving's say, "On the night Jesus gave himself up for us..."

I like betrayal because it is the elephant in the room. It is real. There is no pretending that everyone is on the same page and this is just another good ole sit down family dinner. It isn't the type of experience we post on Facebook (okay some do...). This table is broken. Awkward. And the host is none other than Jesus. 

The only one at this table that is feeling betrayed and hurt... is Jesus. No one else gets it. 

Everyone thinks Jesus is sending Judas on a shopping trip to get some supplies for the coming passover celebration. It must suck to be the God of the Universe... yet no one get... how hurt your heart is... because of betrayal. 

Everyone continues to party like everything is good.

In some ways I get this... one of the churches I serve has decided that they want a pastoral change. There is no compromise... it doesn't matter that the other church doesn't want a change... I get it. They are dying... they need someone to blame. I am a fun target. (tell me how you really feel...) 

Yet what gets me... is that I did not see it coming. I was blindsided. There was a lot of wants... that were never made clear to me. I felt betrayed. I felt betrayed by those especially I thought cared about me. 

In a few weeks the congregation will be told officially that I am leaving. Most everyone will think it is my decision... this is what pastors do. I then have to smile... and say God is good. 

All the while no one gets it... we play pretend... this is normal... yet we are not living in resurrection... we are still living at the table where no one gets it... where everyone is lost and confused... everyone is pretending everything is okay. 

And yet I find it interesting that the next thing Jesus says is to love one another as I have loved you. If there is anything that might end this cycle it is love. It frees us from hurt and the recieve the abundance of God's mercy and forgiveness. 

"God's got this"

Today my wife is 28 weeks and four days pregnant. Eight weeks ago at her 20-week appointment, we were told that she had a partial placenta previa, a part of her placenta was covering the cervix. Not a huge concern because it usually corrects itself. Fast forward eight weeks. My wife and I were getting ready for bed. My wife went to the restroom before getting in bed. She comes in and tells me that she is bleeding. I told her to call the hospital and we will go from there. The hospital said that we should go ahead and come in. We weren't ready for anything. No prepared bags. No plans for our daughter. We packed up the car and went. 

They admitted her immediately to the hospital. We were nervous that this could be it. The baby might be born now. But everything cleared up fast and they kept her in the hospital for a few days. 

We found out while we were there that she didn't have a partial previa but a full previa. This meant that she would have a c-section and that she might have other occasions of bleeding. 

The following day we were both sitting in the hospital together watching television. I received a text from a parishioner showing concern for my wife and encouragement that said, "God's got this." 

My first thought was who told you? Who let the news out? As a pastor... I have always tried to be private and keep my concerns to myself. I did this out of maintaining "healthy" boundaries. This is the kind of stuff they taught me in seminary. In some ways, it messed me up. 

Because what this experience has taught me is that my church loves, supports, and cares for my family. And when my family is facing a trial they want to uphold us. If I maintain so-called "healthy" boundaries I miss out on this gift of grace. 

In a way for a brief moment, they became my pastor. Reminding me in the midst of my own struggles that God was with my family. Tears welled up in my eyes. Tears of gratitude. My wife asked me what I was reading (I hate tearing up...)... I lied..."Oh, nothing...". What I should have said... in the midst of bad news... the church became some good news for us!

I thought your sermon was good... BUT

This past Sunday I preached a sermon that first of all... I didn't even like. After preaching I felt icky. I felt that I didn't have enough time to prepare. I didn't sense people were engaged. And I felt that I was all over the place. Whether it is true or not... I don't know... but that is how it felt.

Like most Sunday's I follow the acolyte out and greet people as they exit the church. I make small talk with people as they leave.  In this short moment as people were leaving a lot happens. It is the moment that I hear from the people. It is their turn to talk.  "How was your week? Not good.. this was the one year anniversary of my husband's death..." It becomes a time to offer pastoral care and catch up with folks.

It is also a time for reflection about the sermon. There are Sundays that folks tell me, "you hit it out of the park... or that one went straight to my heart... or good sermon preacher." I appreciate those words. They build me up. The affirmations are great because in less than an hour after I hear those words I am preaching yet again at another church.

Then there are the comments or the critiques. These comments always welcome a conversation but they are always said in jest because a conversation just might challenge what is about to come out of their mouths.

A gentleman, a patriarch in the church and community comes up to me after the service. He puts his arm around me and said, "I thought your sermon was really great, BUT I think it would be even better if you would quit talking to the congregation and stand behind the pulpit. You know you are always talking about change... so you know maybe... you should change."

Side note I preach at the level of the congregation and not behind the pulpit. And I also ask the congregation questions while I preach.

It was the last part that got me. The manipulative part. So often critiques are framed from the perspective of the one giving the critique. It is what they desire. Typically doesn't have me in mind at all. Weeks previously I challenged the congregation to make changes, goals in their lives. My commitment to them was that I was doing the same.

Yet he took a word I preached and twisted it around to fit what he desired.

The way I preach isn't unhealthy at all. It is who I am. And I am sure not telling the congregation to change who they are...

I don't say any of this of course to him. I just say thank you for your feedback... I appreciate your willingness to tell me. But I wanted to say more but I couldn't... I just went on to the next church.

Following worship, a 96-year-old woman (who never compliments my sermons) trying so hard to just hold on to her walker reached her arm over to grab me. She looked at me and said, "That was a good sermon..." Okay... I will hold on to those words...

We never talked about it...

I've sat with many grieving family members. Their grief is so real, raw, and unique. In the midst of immense grief, very difficult decisions have to be made. Decisions need to be made about arrangements. Part of my role as a clergyperson is to help navigate and teach the family the significance of what we will do during in a Funeral service.

I begin by asking, "Did you talk about it?" The response, "No, we never talked about it..." "Do you know hymns that he/she loved to sing?" "No. Preacher you pick them." "How about scriptures?" ... you get the gist.

I remember a few years ago asking some "young at heart" folks if they ever have thought about "death and dying." It was just silence. Everyone I could sense wanted to move on to happier subjects.

I agree talking about death is awkward and weird. I would never recommend talking about it every day... that would be depressing. But acting like death is not imminent in our lives and that we are immortal is also strange.

So what should we talk about when we have this conversation... and just to note... this doesn't have to be a "death" conversation... these things are just good to know in general about the people we love...
1. What hymns or songs have been of value to you on your journey? ("all of them" is not an appropriate answer!)
2. What scriptures have journeyed with you, inspired you, lifted you?
3. Holy Communion... I have never had someone say to me lets have Holy Communion at a Funeral... but it is actually very appropriate and something worth talking about. We believe that when we partake of the sacrament of Holy Communion that our hearts are united with God and the communion of Saints (for which your loved one now belongs)... so it only seems right that we might dine and feast together with Christ and our loved ones.

I believe if some discussion is made around these three areas when that day comes... believe me... it will be a glorious celebration of life. Because you can be confident and celebrate how God worked and sustained one's life here on this earth and have full confidence that they are now in the full embrace of God.

She didn't get a turkey...

Each month one of the churches I serve has a food pantry. During this time of year, we receive about 100 families requesting food assistance. I struggle at times whether this service is actually a good thing. I wonder if it hardens the divide between the giver and the receiver and also if it hardens the stereotypes that we so often carry about poor people.

After a long night of serving others, my parishioners felt excited and empowered about their good works. They celebrated the number of people they served. It was quite an achievement for such a small church to handle such an operation. But I think the celebrating was more about scratching the good works itch. I know that this is a grand indictment. It is an indictment of a majority of churches that strive to serve their community. But is this real kingdom work? Were we seeing the lives of people transformed and changed for the better? And if not, what are we doing about it? These questions are so often not faced and in fact, we stifle them.

A few weeks ago one of our parishioners came to help at the food pantry. Her job that night was to help carry clients' groceries to their cars. After helping someone she came back fuming. "Can  you believe that lady?" she exclaimed, "She yelled at me for not giving her a turkey... these people need to be grateful for what they get!" Another parishioner, "Amen to that!" A common phrase I hear often. This is the gospel that most good-hearted followers of Jesus aspire too. But what she didn't know was that lady (who had a name... Linda) didn't understand how we were distributing out food since we had a limited number of turkeys. Yet too often the giver/parishioner perspective is that the receiver should shut up and be grateful regardless. We have no perspective on what it means to be hungry. Or no understanding of what it means when over the holidays "meat" is always a maybe. And even if we do... shouldn't that drive us to have a deeper compassion?

This interaction lacked so many things that Jesus taught. It lacked compassion. It lacked grace. And most of all it lacked dignity.

If anything... secondary in our calling as Christ-following people is distributing food to those whose need it. Our primary calling as followers of Jesus Christ is to give everyone the God-given dignity they rightfully deserve.

We often miss this... yet here I am the pastor called to serve this congregation. Tempted to relinquish the dignity of those in my congregation yet I hear Jesus calling me to the very same primary calling.  Month after month we all struggle to live into this primary calling. Yet I do see glimpses of the kingdom often.

I see it in the relationships being formed between my parishioners and the people who come to the food pantry. I see it in their smiles, warm affirmations, caring words, concern for one another. We are not there yet as a Church but I hope in some shape or form we are on our way.