After you turn 65 you can do whatever you want... (no offense)

Traditionalist/Silent generation (born prior to 1946) and baby boomers spend a lot of time complaining about millennials. They label millennials with a variety of stereotypes: lazy, entitled, unmanageable, selfish, etc,. The majority make up of those who attend United Methodist churches are people in their 50s and 60s while the millennial generation continues to decline.

And yet the baby boomers generation continues to salivate for "millennials" to show up, "we want more young people!"

Yet there is a deadly cancer that has infected most UM churches. It is none other than entitlement. To attract a new generation means the willingness to change. Yet the mantra of the baby boomer generation is that I can do what I want when I want it. I don't care what others think. I don't care whose feelings I hurt. In fact, I don't really care what Jesus thinks. He is just a mask I keep so I can be around friends. 

I try to see in the heart of people their best intentions. And maybe I thought I could just look away from this baby boomer problem.  

The reason millennials don't want to go to your church is that surprisingly they don't want a vision that is all about me. They want a vision that brings about hope in the midst of disparity. And they can see right through the baby boomers. They can see right through the entitlement. They want a vision that matters and that they can feel a part of. 

If baby boomers want more young people to come to their church. I have a solution. It is easy. Abandon the mantra of I can do what I want because I have earned it. Throw it away. Make it into a pretty wreath. Burn it in a fire. I don't care. Adopt a mantra that makes a difference and brings about hope to communities. Then... just then... maybe... millennials will begin to show up. 

the walk of shame

For some naivety works in their favor. What they don't know... works in their favor. Not for me.

When I was 16 years old me and my friends would go volunteer at a children's ministry in the projects of Crestview, Florida. There would be about 10 kid each week.

Back then I would get grandiose ministry ideas. And I began to think what if I started my own children's ministry in white, middle-class suburbia. I imagined hundreds of kids coming over to my house for the children's ministry. I imagined local church leaders wanting my expertise, "HOW DID YOU DO IT?"

In writing this I feel for myself. I think poor guy.

Ministry name... check.
Flyers... check.
Cards... check.

Next up was to hand out the flyers to the neighborhood. I was going to go door to door.

I am pretty sure I prayed. I was anxious. I didn't want to do it. But God was calling me to do it. I think.

I got to the first door. Introduced myself. Probably stuttering in a high pitch voice, "I am starting a ministry next door... send your children... that don't  know me... over to my house... for a bible lesson..."

I like any parent would say, "Thanks but no thanks...I teach my kids the Bible." That is what the person said. My heart sank. I was rejected at the first house. I couldn't dare go to the next house.

I took the walk of shame. I just went home. Through away the flyers.

I felt embarrassed. Shamed. Stupid. I should have known.

Now I am getting ready to start a church. Start a church! I don't have any flyers... yet. No name... yet. But what I do have is this voice that keeps me reminding me of the time I failed. The time I gave up that stupid idea. This voice tells me I can't do it. It tells me to take a safer route.

AMEN

I am keenly aware of who I am as a pastor. I feel like I have a good read on helping people on their journey to follow Christ. But I wasn't so sure how this whole pastor thing would pan out with being a parent. And I am still not sure. 

How was I going to teach my daughter to pray? How was she going to learn about God? 

Unlike most people sitting in the pews, I knew that my kids will most likely shine a huge spot lite on me. Not as a pastor but as a father. They more than anyone will seek in one way or another to mimic their parents. 

And then one day it happened. We were reading at night and I just asked my daughter if she would like to pray. She puts her hands together. What? I didn't teach you that... and not necessary but whatever... and bows her head. 

And we practice praying and giving thanks for others. Simple words that she repeats after me. And then we said the Lord's prayer. Repeating my lines in jibberish as if she knows the "song" already. 

And then at the end with a very loud, passionate AMEN. What a word to end the day with... so be it... a beautiful exhale for all the great things God has done. 

I couldn't be a more proud parent. Now, most Sunday's my daughter doesn't care about the so-called barrier between the pastor and the church. She comes right up and grabs my legs. People asked me if I am distracted. How could I be?

I so grateful that I don't have to stand all alone up here. Even more, I have my daughter to stand with me. 

In fact... that is what discipleship is... it is just walking together. Figuring this whole life thing out. 

And all along the journey continuing to embrace the AMENs. 

...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.