My Lenten discipline is not denial, but examination. Denial hasn’t worked before. I might choose something to give up, but it wouldn’t be something crucial. And then, like a New Year’s Resolution, it would dissolve in a couple of weeks. Through pure human defect, I’m just not good at works righteousness.
So this year I choose an intentional routine of something necessary - a daily examination of the day, of self, and of God’s subtle magnificence. A discipline of filing the important stuff, sorting the demanding, and tossing the rest. And I begin with ashes.
I have always been disappointed with the turn-out for Ash Wednesday services, no matter how well attended. Disappointed, but not surprised. Who wants to come to church simply to be told, “You’re going to die”?
And yet, we come and pray, kneel and confess. To old and young alike, each age evoking its own ominous sensation in my chest, I say the words, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you will return.” Perhaps we come to be told the truth, our truth - a truth so veneered and disguised that now-a-days we experience death only as a fiendish thief, rather than as a stubborn, necessary, companion in the pilgrimage.
Live. Whatever life tosses on the table before you, take it and live it well. Else the greedy companion will take it for his own. Examine the day, keep what needs to be kept, and let him have the rest.
Showing posts with label Journey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Journey. Show all posts
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
A Change in Focus
I have been blessed over the past several years to have a significant part of my ministry to be focused on teaching and mentoring other pastors at the beginning of their ministries. I have cherished the relationships that have come out this and have grown in working with them. This focus has primarily come from teaching in the Course of Study at Emory during the summer and as Director of the Residency program for our Conference's Board of Ministry.
I am at Emory now, finishing up the second week of classes on Worship and the Sacraments, and have finally resolved that I will not return next summer. There is a change in the scheduling in the works which would mean I would be teaching earlier in the summer. Rather than change some things on my calendar I will take this opportunity to let someone else enjoy what I've been doing. After five years though, the letting go is not easy.
Furthermore, I have made plans to work with a colleague this year in leading the Residency program, with the plans of turning it all over to her at the end of the year. It is time for fresh leadership for that program and I need to step out of the way.
Wish I could say what it is brewing inside me that tells me these are right actions. In spite of the wavering feelings about letting go, I believe God will bring my interests into a new focus. (Sometimes when you are trying to focus a camera, things get fuzzy before they become clear.)Hopefully, many of the friendships made on this journey will continue to bless me even as changes in my involvements occur. There now, it's on my blog - it must be real.
I am at Emory now, finishing up the second week of classes on Worship and the Sacraments, and have finally resolved that I will not return next summer. There is a change in the scheduling in the works which would mean I would be teaching earlier in the summer. Rather than change some things on my calendar I will take this opportunity to let someone else enjoy what I've been doing. After five years though, the letting go is not easy.
Furthermore, I have made plans to work with a colleague this year in leading the Residency program, with the plans of turning it all over to her at the end of the year. It is time for fresh leadership for that program and I need to step out of the way.
Wish I could say what it is brewing inside me that tells me these are right actions. In spite of the wavering feelings about letting go, I believe God will bring my interests into a new focus. (Sometimes when you are trying to focus a camera, things get fuzzy before they become clear.)Hopefully, many of the friendships made on this journey will continue to bless me even as changes in my involvements occur. There now, it's on my blog - it must be real.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Getting Ready to Move
Several of my friends (on line and in real life), as well as my wife, are expected to move to new appointments this year. Since I don’t have to move, I’m in the perfect position to give unsolicited advice on leaving an appointment. The only problem here is that someone will direct me to my own words when my moving day appears. Even so, I can’t resist.
There is often unacknowledged temptation to be the super-pastor, hard at work up to the minute the moving van pulls off. Totally Unrealistic, and Inappropriate! Once the announcement is out that you are moving, you’ve basically “left” in the minds of the people. That’s normal, and healthy, as they begin to disengage from your leadership. That disengagement prepares them to more readily engage the new leadership when she/he arrives. So don’t disrupt it. You might dislike the teasing of being a “lame-duck” pastor, but realize that the lame-duck status is necessary and right. Accept the new status as a mandate to giving time to cleaning out files and books and “stuff,” and giving good attention to your own family members. That said, here are my three simple rules for moving from an appointment.
1. Let go what you’ve left undone.
This is often the hardest thing to do. We all have things in our ministry that we didn't really get to, or only partially got done. There are people we still feel the need to visit or counsel. Leave all of these as they presently are – undone, and definitely do not propose or start anything new! Your work is finished there, except for a few acts of closure and celebration. Trust God to care for those who need caring for and to carry the church through the transition. Let go of it. Your ministry in this place, as all ministry, will be incomplete. Draw a line in the sand and give your attention to a good transition.
2. Say goodbye with gratitude, but without promises.
Every pastor has a few people they tend to grow closer to than the rest of the congregation. Maybe you’ve been through difficult times with them, or you just “connected” as friends. Make a short list of these and make a way to say goodbye. Let there be gratitude for the journey shared, but avoid any promises that suggest you can continue to be a pastor to them. Tell the ones you leave that their new relationship to you as “friend” will not be the same as the one they’ve had to you as their “pastor friend.” Whoever your successor is, speak positively of him/her, and encourage the people to make the new pastor feel welcomed and loved as they have done so for you. And don’t overlook staff members in this process.
3. Don’t assume the transition will be good, make it good.
Get your sermons and worship notes for the first six weeks already lined up. You know you will have to write introductory articles for either a bulletin or newsletter. Go ahead and prepare them. And keep a couple of your decent funeral messages on hand. Free yourself from tasks you can expect so you can focus on settling in, and on putting your energies into meeting the new people.
Leave behind “descriptive” (as opposed to “advisory”) notes about things your successor will need to know, as well as an up-dated membership list, a list of shut-in’s and current critical care needs, positive words about people, job descriptions, the name of a trustworthy car mechanic, a list of your favorite restaurants, and, a written prayer for God’s blessing on her/his ministry. And finally, God’s already way out ahead of you and you’re already playing catch-up, so don’t go back.
There is often unacknowledged temptation to be the super-pastor, hard at work up to the minute the moving van pulls off. Totally Unrealistic, and Inappropriate! Once the announcement is out that you are moving, you’ve basically “left” in the minds of the people. That’s normal, and healthy, as they begin to disengage from your leadership. That disengagement prepares them to more readily engage the new leadership when she/he arrives. So don’t disrupt it. You might dislike the teasing of being a “lame-duck” pastor, but realize that the lame-duck status is necessary and right. Accept the new status as a mandate to giving time to cleaning out files and books and “stuff,” and giving good attention to your own family members. That said, here are my three simple rules for moving from an appointment.
1. Let go what you’ve left undone.
This is often the hardest thing to do. We all have things in our ministry that we didn't really get to, or only partially got done. There are people we still feel the need to visit or counsel. Leave all of these as they presently are – undone, and definitely do not propose or start anything new! Your work is finished there, except for a few acts of closure and celebration. Trust God to care for those who need caring for and to carry the church through the transition. Let go of it. Your ministry in this place, as all ministry, will be incomplete. Draw a line in the sand and give your attention to a good transition.
2. Say goodbye with gratitude, but without promises.
Every pastor has a few people they tend to grow closer to than the rest of the congregation. Maybe you’ve been through difficult times with them, or you just “connected” as friends. Make a short list of these and make a way to say goodbye. Let there be gratitude for the journey shared, but avoid any promises that suggest you can continue to be a pastor to them. Tell the ones you leave that their new relationship to you as “friend” will not be the same as the one they’ve had to you as their “pastor friend.” Whoever your successor is, speak positively of him/her, and encourage the people to make the new pastor feel welcomed and loved as they have done so for you. And don’t overlook staff members in this process.
3. Don’t assume the transition will be good, make it good.
Get your sermons and worship notes for the first six weeks already lined up. You know you will have to write introductory articles for either a bulletin or newsletter. Go ahead and prepare them. And keep a couple of your decent funeral messages on hand. Free yourself from tasks you can expect so you can focus on settling in, and on putting your energies into meeting the new people.
Leave behind “descriptive” (as opposed to “advisory”) notes about things your successor will need to know, as well as an up-dated membership list, a list of shut-in’s and current critical care needs, positive words about people, job descriptions, the name of a trustworthy car mechanic, a list of your favorite restaurants, and, a written prayer for God’s blessing on her/his ministry. And finally, God’s already way out ahead of you and you’re already playing catch-up, so don’t go back.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Holy Living
Reading in my devotional guide this morning I came across these words from I, Francis by Carlo Carretto, words that I thought provide a good transition from the heavy blogging and business of General Conference to the living of faith in our places with fellow disciples.
You have more wealth than before, and you talk more of poverty. You are middle class and you play "poor Church." You talk more of community, and you live more isolated, more divorced, from one another.
Now would you care to know why I am not inclined to give you a "tough talking-to?" Because you are the tough ones, not I. All one has to do is to listen to you when you gather together. It is a terrible thing, how hard, unyielding, and radical you are.
What a pity that this harness, this radicalism, is always directed against others, and never against youselves. One would say that your great passion is to convert others! And I, Francis, tell you, aim at your own conversions. You will see that you understand things better.
My brother and sisters,
be holy, and the world will appear to you as holy.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
A Lenten Lament
We speak of preparation as though we intend to go somewhere.
We speak of journey as if we might move from where we are.
We know the language, and look for the signs, though
Not directional ones; only those comforting us with labels.
Cross-shapened ashes, luncheon meditations,
Dark night of rejection, and silent Saturday,
No longer point the way, or open the ways,
But nod in boredom to our customary presence.
Lent is what we do, for now (spirituality de jour);
Extra services to remember, and some denials, though few.
But the movement is hesitant, circular, and forgotten,
And we no more know ourselves, or God, than before.
Snatch from my breast the sequestered breath, and
Force me to rise up, gasping in the rarified air.
Make my movement both craving and delight.
Firm my resolve for hope to swallow my fear.
Take me into the bowels of lent, and release me,
To flounder against the cacophony of cares;
So I may crave your numinous grace
And rush headstrong to the crimson cross.
We speak of journey as if we might move from where we are.
We know the language, and look for the signs, though
Not directional ones; only those comforting us with labels.
Cross-shapened ashes, luncheon meditations,
Dark night of rejection, and silent Saturday,
No longer point the way, or open the ways,
But nod in boredom to our customary presence.
Lent is what we do, for now (spirituality de jour);
Extra services to remember, and some denials, though few.
But the movement is hesitant, circular, and forgotten,
And we no more know ourselves, or God, than before.
Snatch from my breast the sequestered breath, and
Force me to rise up, gasping in the rarified air.
Make my movement both craving and delight.
Firm my resolve for hope to swallow my fear.
Take me into the bowels of lent, and release me,
To flounder against the cacophony of cares;
So I may crave your numinous grace
And rush headstrong to the crimson cross.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Walking Thoughts
We do not walk in our country, unless it is on a treadmill. Seriously, one of the readily noticeable differences when you travel abroad is that in other countries you see people out along the roads, walking. Here, people walking along a road signals that something is wrong. Either their car has broken down, or, (heaven forbid in a culture that worships the automobile) they don’t have access to a vehicle.
In recognition of this, we don’t waste money when constructing roads by creating paved shoulders or pedestrian lanes. OK, some of the newer roads have this, but in general you do take your life in your hands if you decide to walk along a road. I’ve tried it a few times, and the road shoulders hardly give you room to get out of the way of the speeding cars.
During the Living Christmas Story over this past weekend, we walked the street of Bethlehem, recreated in our church’s parking lot. One of the features that makes for a good LCS is when we have a lot of participants out in costume, walking up and down the street, talking and pretending to barter at the shops. The irony is that those who come to “see” Bethlehem and the manger ride through in their cars.
This year there was an exception. A large tour bus pulled up to the entrance. With the trees and turns in the route, the LCS isn’t designed to handle such a large bus. So forty people disembarked and walked through as a group. (One of my friends suggested we tell them they had to do the Monty Python thing and walk through keeping the same seating arrangement they had on the bus.) I wish I walked with them, just to see what I could pick up from their ambulatory experience of the event.
The experience of life changes dramatically when we walk instead of drive. I’m not just talking physically, though that is true too. Our bodies were designed to walk, with the large muscle groups in our legs. For those of you wanting to burn calories, it’s those leg muscles that do the job. That’s why cycling (or stair stepping) gets you in shape like nothing else. If you have a desk job, get up every hour and walk briskly for five minutes and just that reactivation of the leg muscles will keep the calorie furnace going. I don’t do it, but that’s what the research says.
When I walk through our neighborhood, the same streets I drive along regularly, I see a different world. The walking makes me aware of the changing texture of the pavement or the ground. I observe trees and animals and light patterns and all kind of stuff I never notice riding by. But besides being more observant, my mind settles into the rhythm of reflection.
Saint Jerome (340-420 CE), who after some years of contention near Rome moved to Bethlehem to finish his years in a monastery, gave much of his scholarly life to translating the Hebrew Bible into Latin. Jerome apparently often used the expression, “solvitur ambulando,” to solve a problem, walk around. Jerome dealt with a variety of textual and theological problems of his day, including the heresy of Pelagianism, and debates with Origenists. My issues don’t even make the cheap seats in his ballpark. Still, walking about works just as he advised. Walk, until your thoughts and prayers match the pace of your legs, until you actually see what makes up the blur of your life, until the wear on your shoes becomes a witness of waiting, anticipation and patience.
I wonder how church members would react if their pastor went on walks regularly? What if a couple of mornings a week we went walking instead of visiting, studying, attending meetings, or doing administrative stuff. Would they (and could we) appreciate the difference?
Rev. Maltbie Babcock used to take regular morning walks along Lake Ontario while serving as a pastor to a church in Lockport, New York. Bill Dagle, who writes HymnStories, says it was from those walks that Babcock wrote the beautiful hymn, “This is My Father’s World.” I think of the number of times his lyrics have spoken to me during worship. How many walks did Babcock take before those lyrics came clear to him? Was it good management of his time as a pastor?
In this busy season of Advent, with so much to “do,” I think I’ll take a walk.
In recognition of this, we don’t waste money when constructing roads by creating paved shoulders or pedestrian lanes. OK, some of the newer roads have this, but in general you do take your life in your hands if you decide to walk along a road. I’ve tried it a few times, and the road shoulders hardly give you room to get out of the way of the speeding cars.
During the Living Christmas Story over this past weekend, we walked the street of Bethlehem, recreated in our church’s parking lot. One of the features that makes for a good LCS is when we have a lot of participants out in costume, walking up and down the street, talking and pretending to barter at the shops. The irony is that those who come to “see” Bethlehem and the manger ride through in their cars.
This year there was an exception. A large tour bus pulled up to the entrance. With the trees and turns in the route, the LCS isn’t designed to handle such a large bus. So forty people disembarked and walked through as a group. (One of my friends suggested we tell them they had to do the Monty Python thing and walk through keeping the same seating arrangement they had on the bus.) I wish I walked with them, just to see what I could pick up from their ambulatory experience of the event.
The experience of life changes dramatically when we walk instead of drive. I’m not just talking physically, though that is true too. Our bodies were designed to walk, with the large muscle groups in our legs. For those of you wanting to burn calories, it’s those leg muscles that do the job. That’s why cycling (or stair stepping) gets you in shape like nothing else. If you have a desk job, get up every hour and walk briskly for five minutes and just that reactivation of the leg muscles will keep the calorie furnace going. I don’t do it, but that’s what the research says.
When I walk through our neighborhood, the same streets I drive along regularly, I see a different world. The walking makes me aware of the changing texture of the pavement or the ground. I observe trees and animals and light patterns and all kind of stuff I never notice riding by. But besides being more observant, my mind settles into the rhythm of reflection.
Saint Jerome (340-420 CE), who after some years of contention near Rome moved to Bethlehem to finish his years in a monastery, gave much of his scholarly life to translating the Hebrew Bible into Latin. Jerome apparently often used the expression, “solvitur ambulando,” to solve a problem, walk around. Jerome dealt with a variety of textual and theological problems of his day, including the heresy of Pelagianism, and debates with Origenists. My issues don’t even make the cheap seats in his ballpark. Still, walking about works just as he advised. Walk, until your thoughts and prayers match the pace of your legs, until you actually see what makes up the blur of your life, until the wear on your shoes becomes a witness of waiting, anticipation and patience.
I wonder how church members would react if their pastor went on walks regularly? What if a couple of mornings a week we went walking instead of visiting, studying, attending meetings, or doing administrative stuff. Would they (and could we) appreciate the difference?
Rev. Maltbie Babcock used to take regular morning walks along Lake Ontario while serving as a pastor to a church in Lockport, New York. Bill Dagle, who writes HymnStories, says it was from those walks that Babcock wrote the beautiful hymn, “This is My Father’s World.” I think of the number of times his lyrics have spoken to me during worship. How many walks did Babcock take before those lyrics came clear to him? Was it good management of his time as a pastor?
In this busy season of Advent, with so much to “do,” I think I’ll take a walk.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Trips and Journeys
When I go on a trip, I basically know where I'm going, how I'll get there and what I'll do. That's generally true whether the trip is to a neighboring city for a meeting, or to another country for personal enjoyment or mission work. There may be changes in the itinerary, or surprises along the way, but usually when I start out I pretty well know where I'll end up.
But a journey is different. With a journey, I kinda know where I hope to end up, but even that is unsure. And I'm even less sure the route I'll be following. About all I know is that it's time to move forward and that a certain path seems right for the present. There will be new pathways and choices in the path that no one can predict as the journey develops. And the outcome? Who knows. That's the reason you go on a journey in the first place, isn't it? - to discover the outcome.
Life is full of trips and journeys. Trips get us to places and back. Journeys take us to new places altogether. Journeys tend to show up at career time, in relationships, and in faith. Some people tend to prefer one over the other, so if you start out on a journey, don't pick a trip junkie for a roomie.
It's difficult when you have someone who wants trip information for a journey experience. And it's scary when someone confidently gives you trip information for a journey experience!
What's even more confusing is that you can be on many journeys at one time. For instance, we've started a journey with Mosaic worship - don't know where that will take us. The whole Aldersgate Special Needs Ministry is a journey. At our Council on Ministries meeting last night we discussed a general proposal for the future of Trinity that emphasizes children's ministries. We approved the initiative originating from the Capital Campaign Study Committee, but basically have no idea where the journey will take us. And interwoven in these journeys are the personal ones of discovery, trust and love.
One quality that enables all such journeys is simply an openness to the future. Maybe there are better words, but "openness" works for me. Step forward, risk self and investment, walk in faith - open to what will unfold in the journey. Don't shut off the journey just because you can't see the resources needed. Don't postpone the first step because the journey appears too daunting. Who knows what God will do? If the Bible has anything to say to us about this, it is that God will provide the 'manna' for each day. And just that experience can make the journey worthwhile.
But a journey is different. With a journey, I kinda know where I hope to end up, but even that is unsure. And I'm even less sure the route I'll be following. About all I know is that it's time to move forward and that a certain path seems right for the present. There will be new pathways and choices in the path that no one can predict as the journey develops. And the outcome? Who knows. That's the reason you go on a journey in the first place, isn't it? - to discover the outcome.
Life is full of trips and journeys. Trips get us to places and back. Journeys take us to new places altogether. Journeys tend to show up at career time, in relationships, and in faith. Some people tend to prefer one over the other, so if you start out on a journey, don't pick a trip junkie for a roomie.
It's difficult when you have someone who wants trip information for a journey experience. And it's scary when someone confidently gives you trip information for a journey experience!
What's even more confusing is that you can be on many journeys at one time. For instance, we've started a journey with Mosaic worship - don't know where that will take us. The whole Aldersgate Special Needs Ministry is a journey. At our Council on Ministries meeting last night we discussed a general proposal for the future of Trinity that emphasizes children's ministries. We approved the initiative originating from the Capital Campaign Study Committee, but basically have no idea where the journey will take us. And interwoven in these journeys are the personal ones of discovery, trust and love.
One quality that enables all such journeys is simply an openness to the future. Maybe there are better words, but "openness" works for me. Step forward, risk self and investment, walk in faith - open to what will unfold in the journey. Don't shut off the journey just because you can't see the resources needed. Don't postpone the first step because the journey appears too daunting. Who knows what God will do? If the Bible has anything to say to us about this, it is that God will provide the 'manna' for each day. And just that experience can make the journey worthwhile.
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