do I look/act like a pastor?

Today, a young man wandered into our church building and needed a place to sit for a while.  He looked like he was having a hard time and wanted a quiet place to think, pray, wrestle. 

I invited him upstairs to our sanctuary and told him he was welcome to stay as long as he needed to.

In the middle of the day, I had to run a few errands, so I crept upstairs to see if he was ready to go.  Bent over in prayer, I didn't have the heart to ask him to leave.  I let him know I would have to go, but that the door would be unlocked and he could stay in peace. He was grateful... evidently he had already tried another church in town and it had been closed.  I tried to think if any of the other churches would have staff present at that time of day and I honestly wasn't sure.  It is a small town and pastors are often visiting or in meetings. We can't all afford full time staff for the office. And often our buildings are closed and locked when there are not people present.  It is a sad, but honest reality.

photo by: Dennis Rassing

About 45 minutes later, I came back in. I checked on him and asked if he was okay.  I asked if he needed anything.  He didn't really seem to want to talk.  So I left him to sit and made my way back downstairs.

He came down later and asked if the Catholic church in town had a confessional.  I gently explained that our local priest had three congregations and I wasn't sure if he was here in Marengo today.  He lowered his shoulders and left the building, thanking me for the use of the space.

As a few minutes went by, I wondered why I had not offered to hear his confession.  Mediated individual confession is not something we do often in the Wesleyan traditions.  Often, our prayers are between us and God and the presence of a pastor/priest is not always considered.  We corporately offer confession and we leave space for silent individual confession, but it is not thought of as a means of grace in the same way it is in other traditions.  It didn't cross my mind, to be honest. Well, not until he was already gone. Maybe I doubted my ability to offer what he was looking for.

But then I began to wonder if he had even thought of me as a pastor.  He walked into the church and saw me sitting behind a desk.  I could have been anyone.  A secretary, a volunteer.  Was there anything about me that would have led him to believe that I was someone who was willing and able to offer forgiveness and grace to him?  That I have been called to God to offer prayer and time and the word with him?  Or did he simply see a nice young woman sitting behind a desk, who offered a place to sit for a while?  As he asked about the local Catholic church, was his background such that he would have even considered a female to be someone he could talk with about what was on his mind?

For the first time in a long time, I wished that I had been wearing a clerical collar in the office.  I wished I had a name tag on that said "Pastor Katie." I know I told him my name and I asked for his, but now I can't remember if I had mentioned I was the pastor. We don't normally have folks walk in off the street, but it does happen.  And I want them to know that I am here for them... and in a small town like this, I want them to know that a pastor is available and willing to minister to them in whatever way that they need. In some ways, I feel like I failed in that today. I take a lot for granted and I get comfortable in my own skin in the office.  I didn't think intentionally about carving out space for my pastoral role regarding this particular person. 

But then again, maybe space was all he needed. A friendly face, a non-judgmental smile, a place to sit.

That young man remains in my prayers.  I don't know where he came from or where he is going. I pray that although I wasn't the person he turned to, and although I might not have responded the way I should have, that he will find the peace and the comfort that he is seeking.  

R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

The world we live in today has radically changed. 

The people in the world have changed.

And we haven't quite figured out what that means... yet.

At the risk of sounding like an old, worn out, cranky person, I can't figure out what is wrong with kids these days. 

That's at least where this post starts from.  A frustration with the young people I work with week to week in youth group.  They are energetic, quick to pick fights, easily berate and offend one another, like to have fun, push buttons, and exhaust me on Wednesday nights.

I'm not trained to be a youth minister.  And the lack of respect for us as leaders and for one another as peers really drains and frustrates me.  I'm not sure how to respond, how to build the trust that leads to respect, how to encourage them to think about what another person is going through.  I'm stuck.  But I love these kids and I'm going to keep at it.

What I have realized however, is that this is not just a problem I'm having with one particular group of kids.

Lack of respect is a larger societal problem.

And I think it has everything to do with authority.

I had read Carol Howard Merritt's Reframing Hope: Vital Ministry in a New Generation a couple of months ago.  In her book, she talks about the diffusion of authority, the growth of grassroots and networked communities.

I love this reality.  I love the fact that more people have a voice and power and the ability to determine their own destiny.

Yet at the same time, I live in institutional structures that depend on authority and respect in order to work. 

The role of the pastor used to carry with it respect and authority.  The pastor was a leader in the community and people listened to what the pastor said.  That is not the case, today, as people double check what their pastor says with what the latest television evangelist or popular religion book says.  On the one hand, I applaud these efforts.  But it makes it awfully hard to encourage my church to think in a new way when they keep hearing different messages from other places.

But not only pastors have this problem.  So do teachers.  So do medical professionals.  So do scientists.  So do community leaders.  As power is distributed and shared, as knowledge is filtered downward, everyone thinks they know it all... or at the very least have access to the information.

Take the field of medicine for example.  I'm not feeling well and so I check some online database and think I know what I have.  So I go to my doctor and present my symptoms and now I have colored my answers with what I think I have.  If my doctor suggest something else or running tests, I look for a second opinion.  My doctor has to worry about me suing them or governmental laws and regulations and their own paychecks. 

The fact that we all have power means that we no longer trust and respect one another.  We are quick to assume the worst.  We are not willing to see another person as our partner, but as a threat to what we know and believe and hold to be true.

We are living in this strange "inbetween" place. The postmodern diffusion of authority is a good thing... but our society has not yet fully adapted and been transformed to this new reality. We are living with feet in both worlds - one in which we have power and knowledge and another where there are experts in their field who have answers we need. 

The simple truth is... we need experts.  We need people who truly focus and go deep in certain areas of knowledge to ask questions you can only ask and answer if you live in that field.

I cannot spend my lifetime becoming proficient in Greek and weather patterns and geometry and quantum mechanics and the policy implications of petroleum based energy. 

But for the decisions I make in my daily life, I might need access to that knowledge. 

So, we need conversation.  We need a two-way path between those who know things and those who have questions and insights from another perspective. 

That cannot happen unless we respect one another.  Unless we can ask questions without demonizing.  Unless we can see the person sitting next to us as a human being who has just as much claim and voice and power as we do . Unless we are willing to assume that someone else just might have our best interests in mind. And unless we are ourselves willing to learn, to be taught, and to work for the common good.

What does all of this mean for postmodern youth ministry?

I think first of all it means that I have to respect the experiences and struggles that my youth are experiencing.  I need to hear what they say and make sure they have a voice and are heard.

This entails not only personally listening, but also making sure that they are heard and respected by one another.  The "how" of this first point is something I'm still working out.  It works much better in smaller groups, but we just don't have the number of adults needed to have small groups.

This has practical implications for how we plan our activities, the kind of ownership we give to our youth, and the rules/covenant we make with one another.

Second, as adults, we have to build our own trust with the youth from scratch.  It doesn't just come with the job.  Just because I am 10-15 years older than they are and I'm a pastor does not mean they will listen to me. And every mistake, every slip up, will set us back all the way to the beginning. 

This is part of the reality of our "inbetween times."  We simply wait for authority to rub us the wrong way and their cred is completely gone.  Discounted.  Done. If a teacher makes one mistake, they are colored that way forever.  If a pastor says something you don't like or agree with, you are out the door or stop giving. If a doctor makes one mistake, the patient goes elsewhere. There is no room for grace with the limited authority figures we do have.

Third, we need a structure and a covenant to get us through this. Respect is not going to be the first impulse of our relationships with one another and so we need to find ways of holding one another accountable.  At the beginning of this school year, we worked hard to make a list of five things we would all agree to do in our life together. 

But it has to stick.  Our kids have to believe in what those things say.  We as adults have to live by those rules ourselves.  And we need to revisit it on a regular basis to remind ourselves of who we are and why we are here.

I don't have the answers to this problem.  Part of me wants to start from scratch, because what we are currently doing in our programs and relationship building is not working.  All I do know is that our respect for one another, our ability to honor the authority each person brings, has to be the foundation for any work we do with one another.

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.

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. 

robed authority

I was blessed to officiate the wedding of my friends recently.  And up until five minutes before the wedding, I couldn't decide if I would wear my robe or not.

You see, I had packed the robe.  And I was most assuredly wearing the stole.  But the robe was an additional layer of formality, of tradition, of authority... that I wasn't quite sure I wanted to assume at the time.

There is this great debate it seems among pastors about whether we should robe or not.  As a woman, I have often argued that wearing a robe keeps people from being distracted by what we are wearing.  It adds some authority simply by the fact that you are wearing something different from what everyone else is wearing.

But that in itself is also a reason to discard the robe when you are trying to be in ministry with people. It is a barrier between you and everyone else. It makes you distinct. Which in certain circumstances actually helps to conveys your authority and then I'm back to wearing the robe.

This was the inner dialogue I was having about ten minutes before the wedding - which ended when a family member said he was having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that I was one of the college friends and yet also had authority to do the wedding... I put on the robe.  The authority and not the college student was the only image left to put out there... which of course also meant that when the ceremony was finished and the robe got put away, I felt more than comfortable dancing to "Love Shack" with everyone else.


You know how lawyers in England still wear fancy wigs when they are doing their official business in the courtroom?  It's a trapping of tradition and old sentimentality... and yet it also marks what they are doing as important.  It sets that part of their life aside as distinct from the rest of their work and play.

I know that I allow myself to become something more... something different when that stole is draped over my shoulders. I read scripture in a different way.  I preach and the words become more than what they were an hour before as I was practicing them at home.

Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.  Colossians 3:12-14

Putting on the stole and the robe are ways of taking on God's authority, of literally wearing a symbol of compassion and gentleness.  It is a uniform, as much as a police officer's uniform is... it conveys my role and my task in that place.

Does a police officer stop being a police officer when the uniform is gone?  Or a surgeon when she takes off the scrubs?  Or a lawyer when the suit is hanging up in the closet?  Yes and no... sometimes we simply put on other hats and become wives and dads and little league coaches instead.  But I think that deep down, once we put on a vocation - a persona - we can't really take it off. 

Once I have put on this authority that Christ gave me, once I have put on kindness and patience and forgiveness - they aren't really things that I can take off again.  Once I have put on love... it is there to stay.  Perhaps it is just easier for others to see with the robe on.

being hit on

**note: this post feels really disjointed.  I've been thinking about writing this for days now and it is just as scattered as my thoughts on this are. So bear with me.**

Three times in the past week I have been "hit on" in our little town. Never mind the rings on my finger indicating my married status.  Never mind the fact that I'm a minister and did 18 funerals last year in this little town. Never mind the fact that I'm pretty sure I'm half the age of some of these dudes. 

It always happens at the strangest times and in the strangest places.  Paying for my breakfast at the cafe.  In the soup aisle at the grocery store. Someone walks up and makes a little comment and I feel embarrased and frustrated and I try to be polite and brush it off but what I really want to do is scream, "INAPPROPRIATE!"

Maybe it's because I'm showing off more leg with my knee length skirts now that it is summer.  Maybe it's because my husband isn't attached to my hip 24/7 and we kind of do our own thing when we aren't home. Maybe it's because I... why am I assuming it has something to do with me?

I guess I thought that the ring would protect me from advances.  I admit that I'm grateful to have married my high school sweetheart - because I really haven't had to mess with the dating scene. But the truth is... are women EVER able to stay away from guys hitting on them?

Being a pastor also adds an additional layer of complication.  In seminary and in conversations with mentors I have always been taught that pastors should be friendly, but not friends with people in their congregation. And for the most part that has worked. It also helps that I have a network of friends outside of the community and I don't feel the need to be best friends with people in the church. We have a work relationship, we have a pastor/parishoner relationship... and that's good.

But what does that maxim mean for people outside the congregation? If I'm friendly to the guy in the coffee shop, he thinks I'm flirting with him. Or is he just being friendly back and I'm misinterpreting it? No, definately not.  His response was definately not appropriate.

In the back of my head, I'm aware that at any moment, someone in this town could pass away and anyone in this community could become my parishoner.  Someone might be getting married this summer and they will be at the wedding and they will in that sense be my parishoner.  I'm not a community chaplain, but I'm also not going to turn people from the community away when they come knocking. In everything that I do in the community, I try to wear my professional hat and be the pastor.

But then I run to the grocery store in a tank top and jogging shorts to get hamburger buns for dinner and someone hits on me.

I refuse to dress like a grandma just so people won't notice me. I desperately want to feel like a normal person some days.  But c'mon people - it's not okay to hit on a pastor in the soup aisle.

torture, ethics, and the state

I commented at the end of my last post about a survey which shows Christians are more likely to support torture than non-church goers. Here is what my friend Matt has to say:

The Truth As Best I Know It: The Danger of Supporting Torture: "We can give all the lip-service we want to the name of Jesus, but when we sanction the cruel treatment of God's children in the defense of the security of the nation-state, we are giving our first loyalty to something that is much less than God. The Bible has a word for that: idolatry. And the two major complaints of the Hebrew prophets were idolatry and injustice. We're clearly guilty on both counts."

Usually when I hear people around me who are Christian wanting to support the idea that these tactics were acceptable in the instance of these three people, they are arguing not at all out of their Christian perspective, but rather flip into a consequentialist ethic in which the good which comes out of any particular action is determined not by the individual being harmed, but by how great the good is that can occur. The ends are justified by the means. Sure, torture one person if thousands of lives are saved. In my mind - that is the same ethic that led the Jewish leadership to hand over Jesus to Pilate.

I would be willing to hear of them and would love to find out who they might be, but I am not familiar with hardly any Christian consequentialist thinkers. As I was searching via google, the closest I cam was Neibuhr's pragmatism - but in articles I explored, even in his pragmatism, the options are arrived at deontologically (or based on our duties and responsibilities - or in the Christian tradition, based upon God's commands).

Besides the duty based ethics - in which we act ethically and morally when we follow God's will (as in love your neighbor as yourself, pray for those who persecute you, do not murder), there are virtue ethics. In this ethical strain, it is the character of who we are that determines the ethical action, not the consequences of said action. We ask ourselves, what kind of person do I become if I commit such actions? What kind of nation do we become if we permit such actions? Are we more loving? More just? More faithful? I'm not sure that "safe" is a virtue - but most of the arguments I am hearing is that we are more "safe" because of what we have done. I would argue, we are probably less safe. Yes, particular terrorist actions may have been prevented - but have we bred hatred abroad that will only be fuel for cell recruitment? What was our response when we learned that our own were being tortured? Anger, hatred, resentment.

The last kind of argument I have been hearing is probably more of a deontological ethics than anything else. It claims that the state is given to us by God for a reason and that it is the state's duty to protect its citizenry. Because that was the state's duty - it performed these acts of tortuous interrogation in order to protect the people. The Christian response to this is that since the state is there by God, and it is simply performing its duty, we need to support it.

This is where we have to do some careful weighing of our ethical priorities. Because I believe here is where we have ethical principles that conflict. Yes, perhaps in some cases we would want to support the state as it makes its decisions. The bible gives us room to do so. BUT - when what the state is doing conflicts with other ethical principles, like love and justice, then it is our duty AS CHRISTIANS to stand up and speak out against such ethical violations.

Now, I'm not sure at all about prosecution and guilt in this matter. That in many ways is a state issue. But we have to clearly and inequivocally say that what happened was wrong and that it will not happen again. Period. End of story. And as Christians, we need to hold the state fast to those promises.

Who Would Jesus Smack Down?

This morning one of our small groups met and I started Joyce Rupp's "The Cup of Our Lives" with them. It thought it went really well! I'm also now up to 5 youth and a male chaperone besides myself who are able to go on our youth mission trip this summer. Which is fantastic!

I ran some errands - including buying some good nutritious food to stock the fridge with, and then sat down for lunch with my computer. And came across this article:

Who Would Jesus Smack Down?
By MOLLY WORTHEN
Published: January 11, 2009
The Seattle minister Mark Driscoll is out to transform American evangelicalism with his macho conception of Christ and neo-Calvinist belief in the total depravity of man.

I know I said that I would be commenting on "The Shack" soon... and I hope to... but for some reason I stumbled across this today and just sat there with my jaw dropped staring at the screen.

I didn't know anything about this church before I read the article and there are some things about how it is portrayed that make my blood boil and there are other things that really resonate with me. And so I'm going to talk about them in no particular order.

First of all, the Calvinist theology. It's not me. I'm a die-hard Methodist. And while there may only be a hair's breadth between Calvinism and Methodism, I would say that it's a mighty thick hair. And to be fair to Calvin, this New Calvinism takes his attempt to hang on to the sovereignty of God and just runs with the unintended implications much more than Calvin ever would have. There is a determinism there that is extremely uncomfortable for me. Not because I'm a "limp-wristed liberal," but because I want to leave room for God to do what God wants - and that includes redeeming the irredeemable.

Secondly, along with the theology comes an interpretation of the bible that is ironically more refreshing that traditional conservative literal evangelical spin... because it takes seriously the New Testament messsage that prohibitions against things like drinking and dancing just don't jive with what Jesus tried to teach... that attempting to live righteously by the law is to live like a Pharisee. But, the interpretative framework doesn't leave any room for the contextual explanations of Paul's comments on the genders or leave room for the call of God to teach and preach to come to women. And I have a huge problem with that since I am a woman and have experienced that call. (Perhaps this is where I stick in a not so subtle comment about Wesleyan theology and the quadralateral of biblical interpretation: scripture, tradition, reason and experience.)

Third, and this is related to the gender discussion, Driscoll wants to basically save Jesus from the theology that has emasculated him. I want to both agree and disagree here. There is a lot within theology that does paint Jesus as the soft and gentle one who loves us. And there are some interpretations of the crucifixion that want to see pacifism as weak, as Christ's refusal to fight back or stand up for himself as a feminine way of being (Not my interpretation). BUT, why are feminine attributes so negative in Driscoll's eyes? Why can't Jesus embrace both the traditionally masculine and feminine aspects of humanity? And the whole argument supposes that Christ's form of resistance to power... his refusal to give in AND his willingness to die for sinners... is what has made Christ weak, or in the words of the article:

has transformed Jesus into “a Richard Simmons, hippie, queer Christ,” a “neutered and limp-wristed popular Sky Fairy of pop culture that . . . would never talk about sin or send anyone to hell.”

On the contrary, the true power of Christ in my theology is described in terms of kenosis - of emptying himself - of pouring out himself for others. In doing so, he fully took on human existence and redeemed it, once and for all. He gave up everything in order that none would have to be condemned to hell. But, there is still a choice involved. Christ, God the Father, the Holy Spirit, continues to reach out to us but it is up to us whether or not we respond. That's not weak. That is what love and relationship look like.

Fourth, I love the way that the church meets people where they are and believe that God is found everywhere within the culture. I can totally relate to the description of the people as:

cultural activists who play in rock bands and care about the arts, living out a long Reformed tradition that asserts Christ’s mandate over every corner of creation

I have no complaint here and applaud their ability not only to reach out to those who would be uncomfortable in a mainline church, but also to challenge them to live differently. In the words of Anne Lamott (or someone else if it came before her) "God loves you just the way you are, and loves you too much to let you stay that way."

Fifth, the idea that to question authority is to sin. OMG. seriously. That paragraph in the article about made me scream. To start off with, since Calvinism is a REFORMED tradtion... there was some questioning of authority somewhere along the way. That being said, I have no tolerance for authoritarianism. (haha, i made a joke) Questioning is what makes us human, it is the gift of the Holy Spirit that allows the body of Christ to discern what is the will of God. I must admit here that Mr. Wesley himself could be fairly authoritarian in his own day, and he made some bad choices as a result of which (see his love life in Georgia for example). But to shun elders within the church because they opposed the new organizational structure? Are you serious? I guess that's a long way from the idea of Christian conferencing that became a part of the Wesleyan tradition... Or maybe I'm just being limp-wristed again. GAH!

Mommys

A few weeks ago, I blogged about my lack of a 'mom look' and so on the advice of lots of people... as well as something that I just knew I needed to do, I scheduled a youth/parent meeting to try to get more of our adults involved with the youth group. Our first gathering was postponed due to weather and so we met tonight.

We typically have between 3 and 15 kids show up for youth group. It's completely hard to plan things when you have no idea who is going to show up. But I thought, if we have 10 of them show up with their parents for the meeting tonight, we're gonna need a lot of food. I ordered 10 pizzas from Caseys. And when the meeting time came, there were only seven of us there. DOH!

By the time our meeting was over, we had a total of nine youth and five parents at the meeting. I talked with the kids about signing a youth group covenant - mostly about respecting one another and making the commitment to show up on time for events and agreeing to come with an open mind and a flexible spirit. They thought that was just fine and we also talked about what is going to happen if the covenant is broken.

But what I really appreciated was that through the whole thing, whenever the kids got to chatting just a little too much, one of the mom's flashed "the look" in their general direction. Thank God for mommys!

I passed around among the parents a sign up sheet for treats/meals and helping to chaperone/supervise our weekly meetings. I think we have someone for almost all the weeks! I'm just kicking myself for not doing this sooner. We also discussed our summer youth trip and already have two solid yeses for our mission trip to Nashville - complete with deposit checks. Parents are terrific.

the mom voice

I've been struggling in recent weeks with whether or not I have the gift for youth ministry. Or whether I just can't figure out how to reach this particular group of kids.

I spent some time talking with my mom about this recently, and came to the realization that I don't have a "mom voice." Or in the case of my own mom, "the look."

You know what I'm talking about - the look that will stop you AND your friends from all the way across the gym at a basketball game. The look that strikes fear into your heart. The look that lets you know she means business.

I don't have a look, or a voice. While you would think being a pastor carries with it a certain authority, that authority doesn't really fly with these kids... so I have to muster up some kind of authoritative presence. Something like my own version of the "mom voice" is what I think is needed.

Part of the problem is that I'm so busy focusing on the lesson and the games that it's hard to also be the babysitter. It's hard to also keep everyone in line. I have no idea how teachers do it - I'm in absolute awe. I get tired after 45 minutes with my confirmation class of 7 students!

One solution is to get parents more involved... which is the focus of a meeting this Thursday night. Many prayers are needed that even just two or three of them hear the call and want to help out. If I don't have my own mom voice, I'm just going to have to borrow someone else's! =)

This whole thing I think also has me thinking about my own family. Is a mom voice something that develops when you have kids, or is it a natural gift? I've already figured out I'm the pushover when it comes to our kitties. Brandon's the disciplinarian, the one who says no. Maybe it will always be that way... only time will tell.

papers and work and delegating

I am exhausted this morning. And I really need an assistant at the church. If by July I'm still feeling these stresses, I'm going to insist that we hire someone part time. Because I have so little time to do the things that I really need to do.

For example. I got up at 6:30 this morning to finish typing newsletter articles. 1) yes, other people should be helping to write articles... that will be addressed starting in January, 2) once I get the articles typed, I have to arrange them on the page and then I head to the office to print out all the copies.

Part of this is my fault. I love doing graphic related things (not that kind of graphic!) And I'm the one with patience for the copy machine that jams every three copies. And in some ways, its easier to simply write up the quick announcements and articles myself instead of tracking down 10 people to each write their little piece. So I have done it myself.

My point is - all of those tasks above can and should be done by someone else. My contribution should be my montly column, coordinating with others re: the calendar and that's that.

I'm getting better about delegating. sort of. I have someone in mind to take over the newsletter if I can convince her to do it. And I'm meeting with someone next week about helping me to coordinate visitation to our homebound and nursing home residents and new visitors. I figure, if I have someone telling me who needs seen on any given week, it will be easier for me to follow through!

I've also been trying to make some long term plans for ministry for next year. But again, I think I'm taking too big of a chunk of the work for myself - at least planning wise.

We are trying keep our committee meetings to 6 per year (some meet too often with little to do, and others only meet once or twice a year - this is an attempt at compromise). So I got to brainstorming and realized that six meetings neatly helps our mission team to focus on one color of our Rainbow Covenant each month - if, that is, our Special Sundays are handled by the worship team. So I brainstormed what would be logical colors to focus on based on the mission activities we do in various times of the year. And I called our mission chair into my office and wanted, really, to say: here is an example of how we can arrange our year. She breathed a sigh of relief - I'm so glad that you did that, because I thought you wanted me to! (doh!)

If I can give the team the outline - and they are the ones who implement it... is that still okay?

Lectionary Leanings

I am SO excited for this week's texts. I play a MMORPG (Massive Multi-Player Online Role Playing Game) and I so love the idea of Kenosis that I named my first character that.

Kenosis you ask? Check out the scriptures especially the Christ Hymn for Philippians.

Kenosis translated into English means emptying... self-giving... humility... pouring out

It is the embodiment of Christ into our human form - giving up his power, giving up his seat at the right hand of God, giving up his divinity in some respects in order to become one of us.

It is also the actions of Christ over and over again in his life and in his death. Giving up his power and status over and over to reach out to those who were hurting and sick and were chained by their sin. It is the action of Christ giving up his very life on the cross.

I'm really intrigued by how kenosis affects our views of leadership. A distant family member knew I was in ministry and he and his father are both pastors. We got to talking and they came to learn that I was THE pastor of my church. And not only were they amazed, but they also wanted to know if I called myself the "senior pastor." Senior pastor? I'm the only pastor was my response. It's not a question of being the one in charge, of being above everyone else - for me, leadership has always been about servanthood, about humility, about kenosis.

In Powers and Submissions, Sarah Coakley argues that we should come to see the incarnation and the cross as acts of “power-in-vulnerability.” These narratives remind us of our ultimate dependence upon one another and upon God while at the same time reminding us that letting go and opening up to the divine is what enables divine power to work in our midst. This power comes through dependence and relationship, through communion rather than a do-it-alone mentality. The practice of discernment exemplifies this power. Or, as Coakley describes it, “we can only be properly ‘empowered’ here if we cease to set the agenda, if we ‘make space’ for God to be God.”

In his article on postmodern leadership, Leonard Hjalmarson writes:

The leadership style that once dominated our culture is becoming passé. Instead of the Lone Ranger, we have Frodo: the Clint Eastwoods and Sylvester Stallones are replaced by ordinary men. Frodo, Aragorn and Neo (the Matrix) are self-questioning types who rely on those around them for strength, clarity and purpose. Indeed, while they have a sense of the need and a willingness to sacrifice themselves, they may not even know the first step on the journey.

He is describing a form of leadership that takes seriously both the interdependence of the Christian community as well as the idea of kenosis. Authority is shared and the agenda of the formal or ordained pastor is not the sole determinant of the direction of the congregation. At various times, Hjalmarson returns to the metaphor of storytelling and describes the pastor’s role as the narrator who weaves all of the various stories together, much like the mediating interpreter for Nicholas Lash. This vision of leadership is crucial if we are to emphasize the ways in which the Holy Spirit dwells in the community of believers – the body of Christ.

In many ways, I believe that is what kenosis is all about in the church... emptying ourselves so that the Holy Spirit can work through us. Embodying the mind of Christ means to set aside what we are entitled to, what we deserve, what is owed to us, and instead discerning the will of God and living our lives in obedience to it. And it is about coming together as the church - not a pastor leading as a lone ranger, but as the priesthood of all believers.

p.s. i wish i knew who did this watercolor - another blogger had it on their site, with no credits.

Gotta Serve Somebody

Used this during our offering time in worship this morning

being true to your beliefs...

This morning I was approached by a congregation member who wanted to invite me to join him for a gathering of the Methodist Laity Reform Movement. This is a group within our conference that wants to promote a more conservative reading of the social principles but also is looking for more grassroots reform of the whole conference system. There are some things in their agenda and principles I can agree with, but not everything - particularly the views on homosexuality. While I hate to say that is the only issue that would keep me away from it, the fact that half of their "issues" on the website were regarding whether gays and lesbians can be ordained or members or on Supreme Court rulings regarding homosexuality, I have to take a step back.

I have not yet stood up and shared my opinions/beliefs on the subject. I do have a Human Rights Coalition equality sticker in my office and a number of books in my marriage and relationship counseling section - if anyone is interested in looking that would announce where I stand on the issue.

I guess the question I have for other pastors is how do you start to broach the subject? Do you wait until asked specifically, or in the case of this group, should I have said up front that was the reason I wasn't interested? I did say that there are many reform movements and caucuses in our annual conference and that it wasn't one I was interested in participating in, but I left it at that.

I want to be true to myself, but I also want to be pastoral and help the congregation wrestle together with this issue. It relates to one of my last posts regarding truth and perception. I have a position on the issues that I can't impose as fact upon others. I need to listen to them, as much as they need to listen to me. And we all need to open up space for the Holy Spirit to guide us.

And it all has to do with understandings of scripture. Ironically, my mom called me just yesterday. She said that a co-worker knew that I was a pastor and so he came up to her and asked if I had read 1 Timothy 2. She didn't really know what he was referring to (and didn't stop to check), but passed along the information to me. One of the reasons that we (or many of us) don't take verses 11-15 seriously today is because 1) we have been revealed other truths by the Holy Spirit... ie: we have witnessed women's ability to lead and teach men and 2)we are able to contextualize that passage, look at where and why it was said and we also judge it against other scriptural passages.

So, i guess I'm just waiting to have this conversation and wondering if i should be the one to initiate it.