Confession of a repentant iowa caucus skipper

The eyes of the world were fixed on Iowa tonight and the 2012 caucuses. And I sat on the floor in my living room, a bowl of fresh baked cheesy spaghetti in hand, and watched on television.

If I were to be asked for excuses for not going, I probably would have started by saying I was worn out after a long day. And I was. I got home late after doing a ton of paperwork all afternoon and into the evening. I was hungry, so I made a quick dinner and stayed home.

A second excuse might have been that it wasn't so important, since my party is electing an incumbent.

But that really gets to the heart of the matter... Admitting I have a side. Taking a side. Showing up to actively support a side.

It has been shared with me that my community has a history of vocal political pastors. And it rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. So, I came in, and for better or for worse, have decided to love people, but not be vocal or public about where I always stand politically. I will talk about issues as they come up and bring a faith perspective into the conversation... But I have mostly seen myself as the mediator of a debate, rather than one of the debators.

So, not showing up, means not publicly taking a side.

But then, I come across a comment from a classmate on facebook:

"Pastors are people too: citizens and voters and moral persons"

I might have been a neutral pastor tonight... But I was a lazy citizen. And having a perspective doesn't make me a bad pastor... Especially if I can model respectful engagement and dialogue with opposing viewpoints. What I kind of feel like is a coward, because there are ways of participating that don't hammer people over the head or make them feel uncomfortable or left out or whatever.

I am sad I missed out on an opportunity to be a good citizen, an active voter and a moral person with a voice tonight. Next time, I'm not going to sit on the sidelines... I am going to engage in the process and with my community... For better or for worse.

overwhelmed by thanks

This past Sunday, as we were finishing up children's time and saying, "Amen," my pianist started playing a song.

We typically sing after children's time, so that there is something to carry the young ones back to their seats.  Since there was nothing in the bulletin, I figured she was just improvising... which is totally fine with me.

So I stand up and start humming along and pretty soon I realize that there are people coming forward!

My congregation surprised me with a love gift for Christmas and also sang along to "You are my sunshine" as they brought the gift forward. 

Not only did they bless me by each contributing something... our lay leader was brilliant and creative and packaged it in a truly spectacular way. 

Yes... that is a Christmas tree with money bows.  Or, as one of my lay people put it - a money tree...   He also encouraged me to plant it and see what would grow =)



We all have days in our work and vocations where we just don't want to get up or complete our tasks.  And we have those days when the work comes easy and it is a breeze and truly a joy to be a part of. 

Like many people, I do this because I am called to it. I don't do it for the praises, and I am more than aware that most people, in most of their jobs do not get thanked nearly enough for the hard work and long hours that they put in. 

And, like any good midwesterner, I get downright flushed by compliments.  I respond back with, "It's no big deal" or "It's my job!" and try to remember to say "you're welcome."  We try to deflect those thank-yous and praises, because we like to work and the work in itself is often enough for us. 

But every now and then, when someone says "thank-you"... it can truly be overwelming.  And there suddenly are no words.  When you get a sense of just how much someone (or a whole church fully of people) really appreciates what you have been doing... well, then that little lump rises in your throat and makes it hard to respond back with a deflection. 

I have never been very disciplined about writing thank-you notes... especially not growing up.  But lately, I have been trying to make "thank-yous" a more important part of my ministry.  There are so many people who bless my life every week with their hours of service, with their kind words, with their prayers, with their food, and by simply being a good friend and someone to be there.  People who help me clean up at the church, or who have made our youth a priority in their lives, or always go the extra mile to help get something done.

At School for Ministry this past year, we were encouraged to write 10 thank-you notes a week to people in our congregations, thanking them for the ministry, support, and encouragement they offer. 

My initial goal was five per week, but I realized quickly that there are far more that 5 people a week who need to be thanked.  It has really given me the opportunity to appreciate the many ways our laity are serving and giving of themselves. 

A simple verbal thank-you is not enough. Because we deflect. We brush them off.

But a hand-written note, with heartfelt thanks... well, that's hard to ignore. 

So is a money tree... and if I can get mine to grow, maybe I can bless others that same way ;)

size 8

I think one of the hardest things for a pastor of a United Methodist Church to do is to lose weight.

There is food everywhere.

And not just food... good food. 

Baked goods after church.

"Snacks" which amount to a three course meal during bible studies.

Church suppers.

Youth group (and the leftovers which get sent home with me).

Food everywhere.

And I like food.

About 6 weeks ago, I started working out more on a regular basis.  I'm doing this combo of weight training and cardio and I'm following the plan outlined with the dvd's and I'm trying (trying!) to eat better.

Sometimes the scale doesn't always show results, but the tape measure has... an inch here, two inches there. 

I can actually see definition in my arms - I have biceps!!!!!

And yesterday, when a gift card from my favorite store arrived in the mail, I went shopping.

And fit perfectly into a pair of size 8 brown trouser pants.

I'm realizing that the more I talk about my goals, the easier it is to accomplish them.  So thinking long range, a size 6 might be nice... I'm not sure I ever wore a size 6 - to be perfectly honest.  But that size 8 pair of pants makes me SO happy.  It is so encouraging to already see a difference and to celebrate that milestone.  So I'm shouting it from the rooftops!  

putting your money where your mouth is... even if it hurts

Recently there has been a call on some of the social media outlets I follow... a call to take money out of the big banks. 

As a part of the larger "occupy"movement, people are being asked to put their money where their mouth is... literally... and close their accounts with the the big guys on Wall Street and to move that money to local banks and community credit unions.  A link to the pledge can be found here: http://www.rebuildthedream.com/move-your-money/

I like this idea.  I appreciate local businesses. I like the accountability that comes when you are in personal contact with the people who take care of your money. I like that it is more than just feet on the ground complaining about things they don't like, but people willing to make changes in their personal lives based upon the message they are preaching.

I don't like what doing this would do to my personal credit rating. 

When the pledge first crossed my desk, I immediately went and started searching for information on the statewide United Methodist supported credit union.  I looked at loan rates and credit card rates and started doing the math to see what kind of a personal financial impact it would have if I closed my accounts with the "big banks" and moved my debt and my checking account somewhere more local. 

My Bank of America credit line has been around for over 11 years.  As a freshamn in college, I caved to the credit card pressure... but it was a "Working Assets" card - and they donated 1% every year to non-profits that you get to choose.  At the time, I justified my decision, thinking it was the "conscientious choice"... if I was going to have a credit card, that's the one I wanted.  But they were bought out by the big guys and I've been with BoA ever since.  Because I have been with them for a while, and pay my bills faithfully, it is also my largest line of credit.

The only line of credit I have with Citigroup is fairly new... and I opened the card to transfer some balances with no interest so that I could work on paying off debt from college/seminary/long-distance-relationship-plane-tickets...

To close the first account and to open a new one would drastically reduce both my average age of open credit lines and my open card utilization percentage... thereby significantly affecting my credit score (especially since I have that newer line of credit from only a year ago).

To transfer balances would involve fees and especially with the Citigroup account, I still have another year of no interest and would rather spend that time paying off that little amount, rather than incurring another fee and having to pay interest.

Argh...

Sometimes, doing something that is seems right, hurts. Taking a stand involves personal cost. Finding the courage to literally put our money where our mouth is... priceless.

(sorry, I couldn't resist).

But we should spend time wrestling with financial questions.

• Where is my money invested? 
• Who benefits from my money/debt?
• What kind of transformative change does the power of a single dollar have?
• Does my bank align with my values?
• What kind of damage does debt do to my spiritual life?
• What does your spending say about your spiritual life?

All sorts of thoughts are rolling around in my head, all as a result of a little tweet.

What tires you?

I recently had my annual interview with my conference superintendent.  We talked about what was going on in the church, the joys and the struggles of ministry in a small town like Marengo, and I had a chance to talk about what I feel is a calling to revitalize small to medium sized churches like the one I am currently serving.

But about three fourths of the way through our conversation, he stopped me and said:  A few times now you have used phrases like "in a rut," "tired," and "wears me out."  What is going on with that?

I had not even realized that I had been doing it.  And as I sat there and thought, my work had very little to do with why I was feeling that way.  My ministry was feeling some of the side effects of what was going on in other parts of my life.

So I've been thinking really hard this week about what exactly it is that is wearing me out.  Stress, conflict, exhaustion in some areas of our lives bleed through to the ones that are going well.  So you can't ignore it.  You have to figure it out and work on dealing with it.

What is wearing me out? 

To have a baby or not

It seems like everyone around me is pregnant or just had a baby.  I'm twenty-nine years old and I was convinced that I would have babies (yes, plural) by this point.  But my husband doesn't want children.  He can't imagine how they would fit into our crazy, busy lives.  And he's right.  Our lives as they are right now don't work for children.  They would have to change.  I am okay with that, he's not.

So, for months now, we have been avoiding the conversation.  And not having a conversation is as hard as having it.  I mean, how do you compromise on something like that?  Either we have kids or we don't... One of us is going to not get our way. And that reality in itself is hard for someone like me, who wants it to be fair for everyone, to deal with.  

But, we finally did it.  We had the conversation.  A big, long conversation.  As I thought about all of the things that I am asking my husband to compromise on in this life as a pastor's spouse (where we live, when we move, what kind of community we live in, potentially asking his own work to take a back seat at some point), I want to try to let him have this one. And in the end, I promised that I would live into the reality and sit with the idea that we aren't going to have kids.  As I have done this these past few weeks, it has been easier.  The craziness that is teenage life expressed among my youth group kids helps (yikes!  I pity you parents!). Having adorable nephews and a niece to pour out all of my love on makes a huge difference (I can spoil them and wind them up and then leave!).  And considering the fact that I have not had a weekend free since the middle of August, our lives really are just too crazy to stick a baby into the middle of it right now.

That doesn't mean that every time I see a baby I don't get a twinge in my heart.  It doesn't mean that I'm 100% okay with not having kids.  But I love my husband. And to be honest, I love my crazy and busy life, too.  And so we are going to try to make this decision work. But, please, for now, stop asking when we are going to have kids!

Family stress

There is a lot going on in my extended family right now that also adds stress and conflict and emotional burdens to my life right now.  So much so that as I sat in a funeral for a friend's grandparents this past weekend, the tears just would not stop.  I'm mourning the loss of what was and it feels like we can never go back... the relationships are so damaged that I really cannot see a way forward. Carrying that pain is exhausting, but letting it go means that I have given up.

That conflict seems to also affect other relationships that are experiencing conflict... ones that would not have been so burdensome otherwise.  When I see firsthand what happens when problems are not addressed, and then watch other people in my life make similar choices to sweep things under the rug, I cringe, imagining the worst of what might happen.

I am so grateful for my brothers who are right there beside me walking this hard road and I can already see the ways that my family has been brought closer together as we protect and love and support one another... and as we commit ourselves to talking about what is going on in our lives, instead of pretending.

Exercise?  What's that?
The hard part about really loving your work is that it takes over your life if you let it.  And I have.  It has been so flexible lately that I don't have a routine for my home life. And so I'm doing good things and come home tired and instead of taking care of myself (especially my body), I sit in front of the television and let my brain turn into a pile of goo.  Exercise gives endorphins and makes you feel good and I just have not been keeping up with it lately.  But my mom and I are going to start holding one another accountable and that should help. =) 



Our lives need balance and they need support.  When one area of our relationships or work or health is not functioning fully, the whole system can fall apart.  So take a good hard look... what is tiring you out?  And what can you do to take that seriously?

a day in the life...

7:00am - alarm goes off

8:10am - start thinking about getting out of bed

8:30am - phone conversation with Trustee chairperson about the new shingles for the parsonage roof

8:50am - arrive at church, small talk with folks gathering for the Tuesday morning small group.

9:05am - phone call with Memorial chair about some checks that came in

9:10am - check emails, put checks into envelopes to pay some church bills

9:30am - Tuesday morning small group: food, devotions, prayer, conversation

11:00am - check in with some members of our co-missioned coordinating team to plan event on October 1

11:15am - scripture reading and exploring commentaries to get ready for Sunday

12:00pm - time spent thinking about hymns for Sunday interspersed with facebook (seeing what is going on in colleagues and members lives)

12:15pm - phone call with congregation member about an upcoming wedding

12:50pm - head home for lunch, heat up leftovers and watch an episode or two of Dr. Who

3:30pm - back to church to meet up with a youth... visit with a member and help transport some items being donated to Women at the Well (prison congregation)

4:45pm - conversation on the side of the road to coordinate a visit with some church folk

5:00pm - back home to make dinner: chicken, sauteed musrooms, wild rice

6:45pm - back to church for Lay Leadership meeting

7:10pm - start our meeting with devotions, discuss calling all who serve and changes in our organizational structure

8:10pm - head home. pajamas. computer.

9:30pm - movie with the husband

11:45pm - bed

something to identify as

I heard a song on the radio this evening by Patrick Stump featuring Lupe Fiasco called, "This City."  It's a new single, it has an okay beat and the lyrics are kind of lame.  As one listener texted in, it sounds like a song that should be on high school musical.  Teen pop, whatever.

But as I sat there thinking about the lyrics, I thought, here are two guys who are totally proud of their city, in spite of all of the bad things that happen in it.  They mention corruption and gentrification and racism and even the weather, but they love that city (Chicago) anyways.

My emergent cohort read this month Tony Jones' new book "The Church is Flat."  He describes a relational ecclesiology that he finds within emergent theology and emergent congregations across the United States.  Being his doctoral dissertation, it is a bit heavy, but was a good mental exercise to explore.

As I drove in the car listening to this new song playing on the radio, running through my head was the conversation I had only an hour before about identity and belonging and authority.

Pulling from new social movement theory and characterizations, Jones claims that the emergent church movement helps people to claim a "new or formerly weak dimensions of identity." In the process, the "relation between the individual and the collective is blurred." The actions, behaviors and identity of a person become all wrapped up into the movement and your very participation in that movement gives you an identity.

Think about it like this:  50 years ago when a couple introduced themselves to new neighbors, one of the first sentences they might have shared was, "We go to the Methodist church."  Their very identity was wrapped up in the church.  They raised their children in the church.  They belonged on the church softball team.  But then came the 60's and 70's and that communal identity started to be questioned.  The next generation would go back to the church only to raise their kids, if at all.  And then the GenXers who followed were either not brought up in the church at all, or it was a background institution that had little to no bearing on their personal identity. 

As an offhand comment, there was a mention somewhere in the book about how that dillusion of identity also has come from parents marrying outside of their denominational upbringing.  A child of Lutheran-Methodist parents might have far less denominational loyalty as someone whose whole family has come from a particular tradition.

If we look at the religious landscape today, there are few who proudly claim their denominational identity as one of the primary markers of their personal identity.  I have a friend or two with a "John Wesley is my homeboy" t-shirt, but they are few and far between.  I am much more likely to encounter someone who tells me that they are a farmer or a vegetarian or a Marxist than I am to find someone in my daily walk who will tell me, I am a Presbyterian. Our churches do not form the core of our identities.

The claim that Jones makes in his book is that this is not true in emergent congregations.  In these communities, the life of the individual is tied to the life of the movement. They claim it as a part of who they are.  It impacts where they eat and what they buy and who they spend time with.  And that is a conscious action based upon their identity.

I am torn at many times in my life between denominational loyalty and faithfulness to the Wesleyan understanding of community.  While at times I hope and pray that they can be the same thing, there are many days when it is not so.  I want to belong to and lead a church that lives out their faith every single day, that is committed to the virtues that community cultivates, and that deeply seeks to follow Jesus Christ and the promptings of the Holy Spirit.  Sometimes, the institutional church just doesn't do it for me.  Sometimes, I see glimpses and I'm energized once more.

I guess what I'm saying is, I want to write a song called "This Church."  And I want to proudly proclaim to all the world that I love this church, in spite of its flaws.  I found my faith in this church, it raised me to know and love God, and if I have my way I'm going to stay here. You can burn it to the ground, or let it flood, but this church is in my blood. And I want to be a part of a community that every day in small and ordinary ways, seeks the will of God in all that they do. I want to be a part of a community that has the gospel in its blood... whose very identity as individuals is predicated on their participation in the body of Christ called the church in this place.

Is that so much to ask?

a time and a place (#1bread1body)

I am a child of my age.  I carry my cell phone with me everywhere.  I check facebook at least five times a day. In between episodes of my favorite streaming television shows on netflix, I hop onto an online forum to chat about what I just saw. I blog. I tweet. I sometimes play MMORPG's.

All of that means I am connected to hundreds of people every single day.  Sometimes superficially... but sometimes on a really deep and intimate level.

I got to thinking the other day that the only time and place that I do not have my cell phone by my side is when I am at the front of the sanctuary next to the pulpit.

First of all, it would be totally embarassing if my cell phone went off during worship.  Egads!

But second of all, what would people think if the pastor, the one who is leading it all, casually glanced down to see what was happening in the twitterverse, or heaven forbid, played angry birds during the offeratory! (we actually have a really amazing pianist, and I would never dream of doing anything but listening to her play... really - she's awesome)

It is a strange disconnect, however.  For the rest of my life, I am connected electronically to other people, but for that small chunk of time it is just me and the people I can see/touch/smell in front of me.

75% of me thinks that is a good thing.  We need to disconnect every now and then.  We need to spend time with people in real and authentic ways - without being distracted by the next buzz from a phone. And afterall, worship is our response to God.  The holy is the center of worship... not what my neighbor's dog had for breakfast.

But the other 25% of me believes there is a time and a place for everything.  That in the right way, under the right circumstances, with the right intentions, some things just work.

Like painting a mural during the reading of scripture to illustrate the creation story.

Or dancing wildly with hands clasped together with the children to tell of the perichoretic nature of God.

Or telling jokes for an entire hour as we laugh in the face of death.

Or cussing from the pulpit.

We have the entire globe at our fingertips through social media... and it would be a shame to let those connections sit idly by on a day like World Communion Sunday when we celebrate our unity.

A friend of mine, Sean McRoberts and I, dreamed up this thing called "One Bread, One Body."  For one morning, we want to hold our cellphones proudly and watch as the prayers of people all across the world are brought together in our times of worship.  We are using the conferencing capabilities of twubs.com to create a live stream of these prayers and pictures that any congregation that wants to participate can use to join us. 

There is a time and a place for many things... and I cannot dream up a better way to join together so that all may be one.

dear diary...

I was never really someone who kept a diary growing up. I think I had about five different books with an entry that launched into a diatribe about how I was going to start journaling, and then an entry later the pages turn empty.

I was never really someone who really told other people my secrets either. Not that I had a lot of secrets - but I moved around from group of friend to group of friend for a while growing up. I didn't live in a neighborhood where there were other kids around that I hung out with. So as my teachers changed, so did my friends.

Until middle school. And then six beautiful girls bonded in a strange and wonderful way. There were others who came in and out of our circle, but somehow it was always the six of us when it really came down to things. It is still the six of us.

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And then there was my husband... well, for a long time boyfriend, then fiance then husband. I think more than anyone else in the entire world, he has been the person who truly knows me inside and out, for better or for worse.

I hope that we all have these small enclaves of people to turn to - whether your spouse, or your best friend(s), or even a diary to pour yourself out to. For many people prayer also fills this role in their lives because they have a deep and vunerable and authentic prayer life.

But lately, with some things, that isn't always enough. I am yearning to shout from the rooftops this "thing" that I'm struggling with. I want the whole world to know and I want them to care and I want them to help me figure it out. I want to be able to actually and authentically talk with the people who are in the midst of this situation with me and I want them to actually and authentically talk back.

I'm working up the courage to actually blog about it.  To put my own thoughts out there for the world to see.  In small groups of friends, I have talked about it, but I think there is something cathartic about writing that I just have not done yet.  It is too personal, too frustrating, with too many unresolved threads.  But maybe I just need to do it and see what happens.

Knowledge and knowledge

Many have been discussing lately social media monitoring of clergy and candidates/ordinands. A post by sheyduck on Everyday Theology got me thinking about my one hesitancy regarding the issue.

As I posted there...

There is a tendency of some who do not understand social media, to use it as an evaluation method, rather than understanding online discussions as works in progress. 20 years ago if you were to publish something, it was final and complete and authoritative... Now, you push a button and your best understanding of something at a particular moment is out there... But it can be edited and critiqued and the knowledge can grow in comments and follow-ups. It's a different way of thinking about what is true, and I worry that some who monitor ordinands conversations won't understand that.

Earl Creps described generational differences in knowledge in his book, Reverse Mentoring: How Young Leaders Can Transform the Church and Why We Should Let Them. I heard him talk about the book to a small group at University of Northern Iowa's Wesley Foundation.

One of the things that struck me most was an analogy he used regarding knowledge.

He described folks his parents age (60+) who saw Knowledge as something important, rare and treasured. It was kept inside of beautiful buildings that you had to have special passes to access, aka, libraries.

People in his own generation (40-60) started to have access in much more profound ways. At the library, a whole world of microfilm was available, the internet started making its way in and so the scope of Knowledge expanded. Tools helped you to access what you needed.

But younger generations see knowledge in a completely different way. Knowledge itself has become a tool. There is so much knowledge, and all of it at your fingertips, that it is almost a worthless, commodity. Instead, its about using the hacking the system, using the knowledge for other things like community, status, work, etc. It is chopped up into bits and bytes and reassembled in a thousand different ways on blogs and forums.

I understand that Knowledge isn't one right answer out there, but the way that knowledge changes and grows and expands through conversation, exploration, experience, revelation, and any number of other means. That means my answers will never be complete. That means I will probably have more questions than answers. That means what I write or say or do might never end up in a vault of information we call a library.

And that means that there will be doubt, waffling, changing stories, confessions, errors, and growth shown on these pages... And similar pages from my peers.

My only fear is that someone "monitoring" our interactions will mistake our quest for knowledge through these forums as not living up to the standards of truth from another generation...

A summer of confession and struggle and hope

I have decided to journey through the book of Romans with my church folks this summer.

a) it's the lectionary
b) I haven't spent that much time with Romans before
c) it is fitting in nicely with our visioning process
d) it has absolutely positively hit me right in the gut and there is A LOT to preach about

I started off with confession... about one of the worst days of my life recently.  Not that bad things happened, but that I was a terrible, awful person that day. Those verses in Romans spoke directly to my life and so I used my life as a lens for the good news to shine through. 

This might be a very difficult summer of preaching if every Sunday asks so much of us... but I think in the long run, it's going to do amazing things in this church!

I'm going to link here the weekly installments, just to keep them in one place:

P+3 - June 26: STOP... in the name of Love.
P+4 - July 3:
P+5 - July 10: LIFE in the Spirit
(vacation and youth mission trip took up a few weeks)
P+8 - Aug 7:
P+9 - Aug 14:
P+10 - Aug 21:

postmodern holiness

I have been having a discussion with some colleagues about what it means to be disciples and pastors in the world today. 

The question was raised about what it means to be holy and to seek after God's holiness... especially in the context of the postmodern world we live and move in.

Some of us find the dichotomy of holy/unholy something of a misnomer.  Modernism tended to place these things at opposite ends of a spectrum.   We could easily categorize something as good and bad, holy and unholy, do this and don't do that. 

Yet I think that postmodernism has helped us realize that this is a much more complex question.  Holiness and unholiness are not matters of morals, nor are they black and white categories. 

What is it that makes something holy?

Holiness comes about because something is set apart by and for God. 

We typically use that to mean that as pastors, we set ourselves apart from the ways of the world and demonstrate a certain way of being. In the modern era, this meant things like don't drink, don't smoke, don't lie or cheat, don't swear. Do wear suits and ties and below the knee skirts (for us women pastors out there).  Holiness becomes a check-list, standards for living, high expectations, a list of places you should not go.

But is that what biblical holiness is all about?

Didn't Jesus do crazy things like turn water into wine and eat with sinners and touch the unclean?  Didn't he get down and dirty and messy with his disciples?  Didn't he preach the good news in every day language and use images that ordinary people would understand?

Which brings me back to the question.  What makes something holy? Does our answer change in this post modern world?  Who decides the answer to that question? What if holiness in a postmodern world is more about how we use and redeem the things of this world, where they are, in order to speak the good news of God? 

I have been reading Elaine Heath's Mystic Way of Evangelism.  She shares the stories and experiences of these amazing saints of the faith who have shared their faith through deepening their relationship with God.  One of those people is Phoebe Palmer, who realized that

holiness is about a life given irrevocably to God, which then in union with Christ the Sanctifier is empowered to be in God's redemptive mission in the world... Christ is the altar, and whatever touches the altar is made holy

When things are given over to him.  When they are set apart, surrendered, turned over to our Lord, they become holy.  It is about God working in the midst of these things, not about us or the things themselves.

I did a funeral a little while ago and the family was not wanting to stand and speak, but had a few words they wanted me to share on their behalf. 

They especially wanted to include the phrase - "He may have been an asshole, but he was OUR asshole." 

I wrestled with what to do. 

If I'm completely honest with God and everyone, cuss words do occasionally come out of my mouth. Usually in the heat of the moment on the disc golf course when a drive goes about 5 feet and then hits a tree. 

Things that are said on the disc golf course are different from things said in the middle of the church sanctuary from the pulpit. Maybe this is a false dichotomy. Maybe as a pastor I shouldn't say those words even on the disc golf course... but I do.

If the me that God loves says those things out in open spaces... and if this family felt like they needed to say those words about their loved one... then I felt like I could take that language to God and make it a part of that time of worship and celebration.

So I said it.

I didn't leave it there, however. I used that phrase to talk about how we are not perfect people and a funeral is not a time to paint a rosy picture of someone's life - but to be honest and to celebrate who that person was in all of their fullness... and also to celebrate that God comes to each of us in our imperfection and loves us enough to save us.  

Like Jesus, I met them where they were. I also found an opportunity to transform the language they were familiar with and the experience we all had that day - to use their expression in order to speak the gospel.

It has taken me a while to write about that day, in part because I'm never quite sure what others might think.  But this week in conversations about holiness and being a pastor, I had to admit that it was one of the most powerful experiences of community and ministry I have experienced. And that means that it needs to be shared and celebrated and lifted up. 

Holiness is not something that I can pretend to have attained.  I am far from perfect, although I seek to be more Christ-like each and every day.

In the same book mentioned above, Bonaventure's understanding of the imago dei is lifted up.  He believes that

humanity is uniquely charged to image the second person of the Trinity, in that humans should mirror God as Jesus mirrors God, as beloved children of God.

I pray continually that through God's grace I might love as Jesus loved and who Jesus loved: the hurting, the broken, the alienated, the unclean, the grieving, the joyful, the sinners, the saints.

Maybe in this postmodern world the question to ask about holiness is not: is it in the rules for me to do this or not?  But will this better help me to love and serve this person?  Can this language/experience/person be brought to the altar of Christ? Is there an opportunity for the gospel to be heard right here and now?

traveling light?

My family just got back a few days ago from a trip to the Lake of the Ozarks.  It was a Christmas/Anniversary/Birthday gift to our parents from all the kids.  We rented a huge house on the water and had four glorious days to spend with one another.

Packing for such an adventure was a different story.  Sure there was a full kitchen with appliances - but would they have salt and pepper?  Tupperware to store leftovers? Parchment paper for under the oven fries? The absolute best price on steak we had seen for months?

We all threw in what we thought was good and necessary... including the whole watermelon I had left over from a youth event the Wednesday before. And that car was PACKED to the BRIM with our stuff. 

Of course, then comes my brothers and sister-in-law.  A backpack with some clothes and some sneaks =) 

I am procrastinating right now, because what I should be doing is finishing my packing for Annual Conference.

I've got the prerequisite clothes, but I must admit I packed an extra outfit or two... it is supposed to be in the 90's two of our days and we are going to be sitting in a60 degree cool airconditioned hall - it makes it hard to predict what to wear.

I cut down on weight by putting all of my annual conference materials on my kindle... but then I found room to pack some notecards and thank you materials.  And a journal for taking notes/putting ammendments.

I need to bring two different knitting projects for the long hours spent sitting.

And walking shoes for walking... and flip flops for hanging out in the sun on breaks.

My laptop for the room.

My camera to document the artwork installation and to add pictures to the online conversation.

Try as I might, I never can seem to pack light for Annual Conference.

the world is my parish

Bishop Trimble recently reminded a group of young clergy that we are not appointed to congregations... we are appointed to communities.

It was something I had not really considered before he made that statement... and it was a refreshing thought.

In many ways, I had assumed that my ministry was both in my church and in the community that surrounds it.  That's kind of the way my missionally-minded brain works.

But since he spoke them out loud, I have really taken his words to heart and have felt emboldened in the work I do "out there."

If I'm honest, it might be one of my favorite parts of my job. 

Way back when... okay, only three or four years ago... wait... holy crap... seven or eight years ago!... I thought I was called to be a deacon.  I felt that my ministry was as much about being out in the world as it ever was to be in a congregation.  I heard God calling me to be a bridge between the church and the world.  And that is the essence of what I understood the ministry of a deacon to be.

But then this little whisper started to tug at my soul.  It was the sacraments.  The bread and the wine and the water kept speaking to me.  And then they took hold.  My ministry might include the world... but God was also calling me to use the church as the vehicle of my ministry.  God was calling me to break bread as much as he was calling me to break barriers.

Long story short... my journey has come full circle.  I am now an ordained elder with sacramental authority AND I get to work in my community. God had a plan long before I could ever see it or understand it.

I've blogged before about my outreach and relationship building through funerals and weddings in the larger community. I have been the main organizer around the community worship in the park for the last two years - an amazing opportunity to share in worship with one another AND to share in the one loaf and the one cup.

What I have not done as well in my first three years of ministry was to get involved actively transforming the community.  But this year, my work with youth got to me.  I realized I had to go deeper to help them.  And somehow I'm now on a school improvement advisory committee and hosting an ongoing conversation about how the community can better support and encourage our youth.

This work is so completely different from what I do on a day to day basis in the church. Much of that difference has to do with having the authority of a pastor.

My ministry in my congregation is ministry "with"  not ministry "for." I am not someone who throws around my weight... instead I see my role as empowering my people to do ministry themselves.  I would rather work alongside my parishoners than lead them.

But in the community, the role of the pastor takes on a different flavor.  As one youth parent said a couple of weeks ago, "When I go to the school office and talk about a problem, it's more of the same.  When Pastor Katie says something, they listen." 

To be honest, that authority scares me a little.  But it is also exciting.  God has put me in a place where I can speak on behalf of these parents and I have a powerful voice.  God has put me in a place where I can make connections between people and provide a literal space for those new relationships. God has put me in a place where I have a real and tangible ability to make a difference. 

Tonight, our little community group met again.  And while the start of this journey is small and the momentum is slow, I can already sense the possibilities.  I am energized by the true and living hope that God is doing something in Marengo.  And I pray with thanksgiving that I get to be a part of that work.

its not an 8-5 job...

For the past month and a half...  probably actually since before Christmas... my schedule has been chaotic.

You are told things when you start out in ministry about how pastors sometimes work 80+ hour weeks and how you are on-call 24/7 and how your life just might get sucked up into a vortex of ministry. 

I didn't believe it.

Or rather, I was committed to not letting it happen to me.

And I must say that for a full three years, I have done "okay" at keeping my boundaries firm.

I scheduled my day off for Friday so that I would have two full days off in a row.  I took time off when I worked too much the previous week.  I don't fret about afternoon naps or mornings sleeping in when meetings are scheduled for the evening. And when the weather is warm, I have a robust desire to spend my free time on the disc golf course or in my garden rather than being cramped up in the office. I get my work done, I spend time with folks, but I make sure to take care of myself, too.

But 2011 has been absolutely nuts.

I realized this morning as I was riding in a car to yet another Saturday church-related function that I had only spent about an hour with my husband the entire week.  I realized that it is the fifth Saturday in a row that I have had something going on... between funerals and conference meetings and church retreats.  I realized that since I made two hospital visits and worked on the newsletter yesterday that I have not had a day off this week.

What on earth happened?

I think part of the slip in my boundaries has to do with a number of important things going on in the life of the church that I have chosen to prioritize and give extra time to.  I also ran into a week with four funerals and was gone for a week and therefore had catch-up work.

But there was another shift in my household that I didn't quite take note of.  My husband started working 8-5, Monday through Friday.

Before this, B had worked with his dad and the time was flexible.  The only time I knew he would be working away from home was on Tuesdays... other than that, he would go in on-call and work a lot from home.  They fix computers and I am always amazed at the ability to take over a client's computer and do updates and take care of issues from the comfort of our home.

All of that changed when my father-in-law had a seizure just after the new year.

We don't know what caused it, but it happened.

And now, he is not allowed to drive, and the two of them have become an inseperable team... heading off to see clients together and working from his dad's office.

Before this, if I had to work in the evening, I got an afternoon to spend with my husband.  Fridays almost always were free for both of us.  And even when I got home from meetings, we would stay up late watching movies because we both had the freedom to sleep a bit later.

Now, my husband gets up before me and is out the door before I have a chance to really wake up.  My evenings are just about as busy, which is why three nights out of five this week I wasn't home before 8 or 9 or later... when he was getting ready to settle down and turn in.

It's easier to say yes to a hospital visit or a meeting on a Friday, because I don't have anyone at home waiting for me.

There is definately something to be said for having a stay-at-home spouse when you are in ministry.  I wonder if others of you who have spouses who work have similiar frustrations.  How do you balance out the time with your husband or wife or family when one of the traditional "weekend" days is taken up with work and ministry?  How do you find time to spend with one another when weeknight meetings are a regular part of the job? 

I have always cherished the flexibility of my schedule. But I'm starting to resent it... a little bit.  I miss my husband.  I miss my days off.  And this chaos has got to get some order put to it.

a strange beauty... #reverb10

A few days ago, I happened to catch an interview with Simone Dinnerstein on NPR.  She has come out with an album that is an interpretation of Bach masterpieces for piano called "A Strange Beauty." The pieces themselves are wondrous and in the interview she talked about how she almost invisions them as jazz compositions.  The voices shift, there are notes that speak to her that are not a part of the melody, the little discrepencies that truly make these pieces different.

In the album notes, she quotes the scientist Sir Francis Bacon: "There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion." The most beautiful things are not those that are symmetrical and perfect, but that draw our attention, make us slightly uncomfortable until we settle within it, creates a holy and beautiful disturbance in our souls.

December 8 – Beautifully Different. Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different – you’ll find they’re what make you beautiful. (Author: Karen Walrond)

So what is that about me?  What makes me a strange beauty?  What are the qualities that stick out like a sore thumb, and yet are the reason people draw close?

It is a hard question to think about. I often want to leave these qualities for someone else to name, but this whole process is about self-reflection, about seeing ourselves the way others see us.  So here is a list of what I have come up with:
 

My eagerness - foolish, naive, excited, passionate, unafraid.  I'm willing to dive in, raise my hand, say yes before I have a chance to think about it.  Part of this is my youth, but I think my congregation loves it in me because I inspire them to take chances as well.

My shoes - I have always loved shoes.  I remember these platform mary janes I had in high school.  Now, it is the red flats, the pointy toed, high heeled boots, the slip on suede privos... they share my personality for the day and are a conversation piece.

My inquisitive side - I always have questions. I always want to know more.  Maybe this makes me strangely annoying rather than strangely beautiful.

My ability to see gray areas - I find myself straddling the line between positions.  I see the pros and cons, but more than that, the passion and emotions with which people make their arguments.  I am a peacemaker, a negotiator, and because of this, I almost never have "the answer."  It is not for a lack of confidence in my position, rather my love and passion for the process that has led others to their own.

My voice that developed very late - I was never a good singer growing up.  My mom told me once that I was off key as we sang aloud in the car on a trip.  I'm not sure I quite got over the sting of that until I was much older... I loved to sing out loud, whether I was good at it or not.  In high school I took voice lessons, sang at competition, and never did well.  My upper range had not developed and I was a very sad second alto because my very lower range wasn't the best either.  Sometime in college/seminary, I found my voice.  This past year, I have sung solos twice in church.  I have found a confidence and a passion in my voice I never knew I had.  And I think the confidence is what makes my voice beautiful. I'm not afraid for people to hear me sing anymore.

Taking Authority

In her book Reframing Hope: Vital Ministry in a New Generation, Carol Howard Merritt discusses the "diffusion of authority," the empowerment of the fringes, and the "celebration of noncelebrity" in her chapter on Redistributing Authority.

As I read those words, I began to feel a strange sense of validation for what I am doing.  I have a voice.  I have the ability to write.  I have a conversation that I want to start.  I want to participate.  But I don't want to do it alone.

This whole blogging adventure has been, fundamentally, about maintaining the connections with colleagues and schools of thought that have fed my theological and ecclesiastical development.  It is about hanging on tightly to those threads of tradition that have sustained my faith.  It is about picking up pieces scrapped by others, deemed unworthy, and trying to figure out what we need to hear about God from them.

And at times, it seems silly. 

At times, I find myself floundering around, trying to make sense of the world around me.

At times, I'm wrestling by myself with questions that have no real answers.

At times, I feel a little overwhelmed by the system and all of the things that I am supposed to do, all of the details of ministry.

At times, I really do not have the time to be a part of this kind of time intensive dialogue.

At times, I don't have the energy to fight the man and to call out the parts of our tradition and practice that trouble me.

And at times, I really really really want to share something and it's not appropriate to do so yet.  Not enough time and space has passed to allow the insights of a particular experience to be shared.

So I give up here and there.  I flounder.  I don't claim the authority I do have.  I feel that what I'm doing here is not really very important.

But then, today, I find myself surrounded by colleagues in ministry at an orders event and suddenly my name is called out for all to hear.  Someone has pointed to my blog as a place where vital theological reflection by United Methodists is being done.

And I feel humbled.

And a little embarassed.

And more than a little encouraged to keep doing what I am doing.

To take authority.

To keep writing.

To keep thinking.

To continue the conversation.

To accept that although I may be a young pastor, a small town pastor, someone on the fringe, someone who hasn't yet put in my years, that I still have something worthy to say.

To give myself space and permission to keep writing. 

Saturday night with the drag queens

Saturday night I had an awesome time helping my super best friend since fourth grade celebrate her impending nuptuials. AKA - Bachelorette Party!!! 

If I had been wiser, I would have taken Sunday off as one of my vacation days... but I am saving one for this spring when her wedding actually occurs.  As it was, I had to get up early, teach and preach the next morning.  Yet I promised her sister when I wrote back to RSVP that I would be there, but that she could count on me for a designated driver. 

As it worked out, I didn't have to drive at all until the very end of the night.  We had a blast stopping by the piano lounge, the downtown fieldhouse, and then making a stop at Club Basix.  For those who are not familiar, Club Basix is known as a "gay club."  Which was more than obvious when we walked in the door and the drag show started.

Now, if I am being honest, I have been to more than a few drag shows in my day.  We had them to raise money for the AIDS project of Central Iowa.  We went to them in divinity school (as a lady... it is much more comfortable to dance at the gay clubs - less guys hitting on you all the time!)  And now, I can say that I have been to one back home. 

As someone leaned over and mentioned soon after it was getting started: Where else can these people go in Cedar Rapids? (more on that thought later)

The show itself had its highs and lows.  There was one particular number that I was pretty appalled by... okay - it was raunchy and I had to turn away... but for the most part I enjoyed the experience.  I think the best was a rendition of "Bad Romance" by a queen in mismatched pastel boots, gold knickers, a red tutu, rhinestone glasses and a tie-dye shirt... it was ah-mazing.

Later that evening, we were dancing and headed outside for a second for some fresh air.  That particular queen was outside also and we struck up a conversation.  My friend, Cara, had been called out at the end of the show because of our celebrations and so she was asked about the wedding.  As she and I stood there, at one point, Cara replied - and she is marrying me!

It's true.  I am marrying her.  Well, I'm doing the marrying.  I'm doing the wedding... well, I'm a pastor - that's what we do!  However your phrase it.

So it came out that I was a minister.  And not a "get a license over the internet person" who performs weddings for people who frequent establishments like Club Basix.  (I was asked that.)   But a genuine, ordained, main-line pastor.  Out at a gay and lesbian night club at 1:30am on a Saturday night/Sunday morning. 

And do you know where the conversation turned?  To faith sharing.  Our new friend shared with us that she was baptized Methodist. We talked for a bit about the places we came from.  I was asked about gay marriage in Iowa and if I could perform those types of ceremonies. And she asked me to pray for her.  And I will.  I am.

My adventure at Club Basix began with a simple statement - where else can these people go in Cedar Rapids?  And it ended with the realization that there are a lot of hurt and broken people in that building.  Folks who have been shut out of families.  Individuals who feel scared and alone.  Friends who have built new families around one another... new communities of support because their churches turned them away. 

What better place for a pastor to visit?  What an amazing place to be able to talk, for even two minutes in the freezing cold outside, about the love of God?  To leave my own comfort zone, to go and be there on their terms, to listen, and to just be Christ's presence in that moment. There is no place that I would rather have been.

walking on sunshine #reverb10

This prompt is HARD!!!  First of all, I took a lot of pictures this year, so that was problem number one  not a lot with me in them!  Second, there are so many different "mes" I have tried to be this year. But In answer to the prompt:

December 25 – Photo – Sift through all the photos of you from the past year. Choose one that best captures you; either who you are, or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words. Share the image, who shot it, where, and what it best reveals about you. (Author: Tracey Clark)

It is not a flattering picture of myself... but it is me and my husband out on the water, enjoying the sun. I'm sure it is one that we took ourselves by holding out the camera.  The sunglasses are on, the tongues are out - a sure sign of a good time and silliness, the air is warm, and we are with family enjoying ourselves. 

What I see in this picture is life, energy, and fun. 

This is the source of the passion I can bring to my ministry.  It is what allows me to recharge my batteries.  Whether it is Hawaii with my mom's family or out on the river or the lake with my husband's family, disc golfing in the summer... just being outside, enjoying the creation, letting other people take care of you and taking care of others is important. 

What I want is for 2011 to have just as many of these kinds of moments, if not more.  Times to truly relax and to be myself.  Moments to let go and be silly.  Days when I am not on call and don't have to be anywhere... because they make those days when I do have to be there for others so much easier. 

My first choice would have to be:

twinkle, twinkle, little star #reverb10

Last night.... well, this morning... I drove home at 3:00am in the morning from a friend's party.  It was about four degrees outside and the sky was absolutley clear.  The air was crisp and clean and the stars were so bright and vivid that you felt you could reach out and literally pluck them from the sky. I almost had to pull over the car just to look and gaze upon the sight... but I knew if I stopped at that hour I would most certainly fall asleep!

December 4 – Wonder. How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year? (Author: Jeffrey Davis)

It has not been difficult in 2010 to really grasp a sense of wonder at this world.  Everywhere I look around me I see these miraculous and beatiful signs of God's power and the beauty of creation.

The other evening we had seven deer in my back yard eating acorns.  I stopped at the bathroom window and watched them with amazement for fifteen minutes instead of brushing my teeth.

I was driving to my parents house and I saw a bald eagle soaring through the air and in between the trees.  Good thing it was a straight road or I would have driven off it!

My nephew's little tiny smiles and giggles knock me over flat.  My neice's expressions stop my heart. The things my older nephew comes up with make me want to wrap him up in my arms and never let him go.

The sunset one evening as I walked around the local park was so spectacular that I pulled out my phone and captured it to remmeber forever.

The waves crashing in one after the other on the west side of Oahu absolutely stunned me. The sky was a brilliant blue, the sun was blazing and the white churning sea dazzled.  I could have sat there and watched them for hours.

The intense feeling of reconnection and the amazing discovery that I love spending time with my parents as an adult child and a friend.

The warmth of a cat's body curled up and nestled into yours when you are sick or sleeping, cold or lonely.

The thrill of a storm lurking on the horizon and the shades of gray and green that pass over the sky as the wind picks up and the rain starts to pour and the lightening streaks against the sky

You just have to look. 

You only have to pay attention.

There are so many things to wonder at in this world.