Reflections on New Members Exploration Process

I have to be up front about this — I am not a very institutional person.  I mean this in a general sense (I would prefer to shop a smaller, local store rather than a retail giant), but I also mean this in relation to the church.  While I understand the need for structure and organization in the life of the church, I become tired quickly of those things we do simply because we “should” or because “we always have” or because “they” (whomever “they” might be) expect it.  I am much more invested in developing relationships and connections … with a gracious, loving, personal God revealed in Christ and with others.  So, while I attempt to maintain necessary institutional structures, I don’t have a lot of time or energy to stand around polishing the metaphorical knobs and buttons of the machinery.

Which leads me to these reflections on church membership.  In my life as a pastor I have historically not spent much time emphasizing “membership.”  I have discovered too many times that “membership” is equated with “privilege,” while my reading of the Scriptures and understanding of the history of God’s people leads me to believe that “membership” in the Body of Christ has more to do with service and commitment than it does with privilege.  So, I have been reluctant to encourage people to become “members” because I am much more interested in seeing individuals experience the personal joys of walking with God and a deepening sense of discipleship in the footsteps of Jesus Christ.  However, and this is a big transition, I am attempting to rework my own mental understanding of membership and urging myself to see that “membership” and “discipleship” do not have to be mutually exclusive.

To that end, four weeks ago we launched our first New Members Exploration process for those interested in becoming more connected to the ministry and life of Belgrade Avenue UMC.  I was pleased that nine individuals joined me on that first Monday night, and even more pleased that the same nine were with me last night, the final session in the series.  During our four weeks together we had the opportunity to develop more personal relationships with another, and we discussed a number of important issues.  Here is some of what we talked about during the exploration process:

• What is the history and heritage of the United Methodist Church, from its origins as a renewal movement within the established Church of England, to its migration to the American colonies (and the globe), to its relatively recent mergers between the Evangelical United Brethren and Methodist Episcopal traditions?

• In what ways do United Methodist Christians understand their relationship with God and the world God has created?

• For Christians in the United Methodist tradition, how does one discover spiritual life and continue to grow (spiritual formation)

• What does it mean to be a “member”?

• What are the expectations of membership … in terms of worship participation, stewardship, spiritual life, ministry?

• How does one discover his or her own spiritual gifts and find ways to use them to the glory of God and the good of the world?

While I cannot speak for the others in the exploration process, I have to say that I found our four weeks together enjoyable, engrossing and productive.  The ten individuals who will stand before the congregation on February 25 to take the “vows of membership” are diverse, interesting, spiritually alive and growing, individuals.

Our next exploration process will begin Monday, March 5.  I invite you to join us!

All But Six Hours A Week

I am spending three days this week in St. Cloud, where all Minnesota United Methodist clergy have gathered for what is called a “Gateway Retreat.” Several years ago our Conference received a significant grant from the Lilly Foundation to assist in clergy professional development. The outcome of that grant has been “Gateway groups,” which originally were populated based upon church size. The Conference was recently awarded a second grant (half the size of the first, but still a substantial amount of money), and Gateways is taking a new look. Individual clergy can decide which group they want to be a part of, so for these days we are meeting one another, writing a covenant and making plans for further growth and God’s servants together.

Yesterday our Bishop spoke to us, using Jonah as a model, and described her understanding of pastoral excellence. She is a very gifted communicator, and I always walk away from her preaching moments feeling refreshed and inspired. Among the many nuggets of truth I received yesterday, the one that I am most enthused with is this one.

She began by saying, “All but six hours a week.” (And I may be paraphrasing at this point). “I have loved ministry, and I want others to love ministry, too. I want you to find joy in what you do as you respond to God’s call upon your life. And I can honestly say, that with the exception of about six hours a week, I have loved every minute of what I do.”

I think she has well characterized the pastoral life, and perhaps, for that matter, the life that most every person who is working lives. Most of us long for a career path that is personally fulfilling, makes a difference in the world, and leaves behind a legacy. We want what we do to have mattered. I suppose that those idealistic visions are even more paramount in the lives of clergy, who hear a call from outside of themselves (and from within, too) to serve God while serving with God’s people. The down side, of course, is that we clergy probably have earned our reputation as “pie in the sky” kinds of people, with all kinds of dreams and idealism and less ability to produce “results” (whatever that really means in the context of congregational life or even in the broader world God has created).

But in any case, my heart reverberates with what Bishop Sally had to say, because I, too, can affirm that with the exception of about six hours a week, I really love what I do. I am blessed beyond measure to be able to do what God has called and equipped me to do. I have the opportunity not many spouses and parents have … to have family members witness on a regular, at-least-weekly basis, what I am able to do best. Very few other vocations allow that opportunity.

So this morning I am feeling a renewed sense of gratitude for the work God calls me to do. I am more aware than ever of my frailties and the humanity which calls me to lean even more faithfully upon my Creator, but I cannot imagine doing anything else with my life.

How Churches and Airports Are Alike … and Can Be Different

It is 10:15 PM. I have been home a little more than an hour, having spent the better part of my day returning home from Nashville, where I was involved in something called the Middle Adult Summit. It is sponsored by our denomination’s General Board of Discipleship, and I had the opportunity to be one of sixteen people invited to be a part of the conversation. I must admit I’m not sure that I like being called a “middle adult,” because I do not feel like what I have always thought a middle-aged person might feel like. Granted, I was one of the “younger” mid-adults at this summit (probably one of four who would be called generationally a “Genxer,” while the others are baby boomers). We finished up by noon today, and then it was off first to the Nashville airport, then on to Chicago and finally back to Minneapolis.

As I ponder my afternoon and evening hours in airports scattered across the hundreds of miles, I was struck by how the airport experience is really an experiment in pseudo-community. If you’ve traveled by air you may know what I’m talking about. People who normally would not be your conversation partners strike up a conversation. While I was catching up on email at the Nashville airport, for example, a woman (who also happened to be a Mac user, which always catches my attention) asked if there was a power outlet nearby. (Finding a power outlet at any airport is always a challenging proposition). I told her there was an empty outlet above the one I was using, which she took to be an invitation to sit near me. As she plugged in her cord, she feigned friendliness and apologized for her “reach.” I finished up my work, packed up and walked on to witness another oddity.

In a darkened corner of an empty gate area was a young man evidently needing a change of shirts. As I walked by I saw him pulling off his button-down oxford, and mercifully in my peripheral vision only, as I walked by, saw him strip off his t-shirt with one hand as he rummaged through his carry-on luggage with another hand to pull out a clean set of clothes. Strange, I thought, that he would feel free to change his clothes in a deserted gate area open to public view when there was a bathroom right around the corner. Again, there was the sense of pseudo-community … as though he was with friends or acquaintances, simply because we all happened to share one thing in common: we were all traveling by air today.

And then, of course, there is the seating arrangement on all airplanes, which is never commodious for my body size. Even when I was 60 pounds lighter it was a challenge to squeeze into seats designed for the petite; these days the challenge is even greater, and I am not sure I will ever be comfortable sitting for a protracted period of time with one side of my body squeezed closely to a stranger’s. The truth is, and this may be too much information, that I don’t sleep that close to my spouse in our bed at home. When I’m sitting close enough to the guy next to me to feel his nervously twitching leg vibrate against mine, I figure that’s just a little too close. But strangely, when it comes to airflights, most of us accept that as part of the experience. It’s this psuedo-community thing I’m talking about. We’re all in it together, so we pretend that we’re OK with unusual close-proximity physicality with complete strangers.

I could go on, but I think you get my point. About airports and the flying experience at least.

But I think that our church experiences are often like airport experiences. We co-exist in our church relationships with people we would never socialize with in our “real worlds.” We sit next to or near people we don’t really know, but pretend like we do know, because that’s supposed to be part of what church is about. We smile and exchange greetings and discuss the weather, but we don’t get all that involved in others’ lives. When, for example, we hear that one of their children is reeling out of control, we say to ourselves, “Gosh, I never knew that was happening. They seemed like such a happy family.” Or when the empty-nester couple parts ways, we are shocked and say, “I can’t believe it. They were together 25 years. They raised their children together. They seemed so compatible.”

I am concerned that for many of us our church experience is no better than our airport experiences. We experience pseudo-community, but we really never get beyond the superficial and the external. We think of fellowship as cake, coffee and a friendly face … but we just don’t know how to get beneath the surface to really walk with another person in the depths of their life experience. We view the “new person” from across the room and wonder who they are, without, of course, bothering to walk to the place where they are standing or sitting to introduce ourselves. We have our “church friends” and our “other friends.”

One of the things I heard in multiple ways in the past two days in the training I attended was how desperately necessary (for middle adults in particular, but not only people aged 31-60) it is to have a spiritual community. One of the things that those in this age group say (who do not attend church) is that they are looking for a community in which their spiritual lives can deepen and grow, a place where they can know others beyond the surface and journey together in a spiritual way.

And here’s the kicker … many of these adults are finding these kind of meaningful spiritual relationships. They are just not finding them in the church (whatever the denominational stripe). They will meet at 6 AM once a week with friends at Starbucks to talk and pray, but they won’t be in a church worship service. They may host a book study to explore spirituality at Barnes and Noble, but they won’t sign up for the latest education offering at the nearby church building.

The institutionally alienated, spiritually yearning folks in our community are finding ways to become spiritually adept, but they consider churches irrelevant and inhospitable to their needs. I wonder if those outside the church see the church experience like I experienced the airport today, as a psuedo-community where people are doing similar things, but not as a place to be unless absolutely necessary, and then to avoid until absolutely necessary again (could you say “baptisms,” “weddings,” and “funerals”?)

I don’t know about you, but I want to pastor a church where a strong sense of spiritual community is embraced and continues to grow and develop. I don’t want to oversee the work of an airport where psuedo-community is the value of a necessary evil.

God help us … to be different!

How I Fared

Read “I Wonder How I Will Fare” before reading this blog.

I have returned from my worship experience at West End United Methodist Church. As I surmised in my previous blog, the service style is upper-end traditional, complete with a cross-bearer, torch- (their word, not mine) bearers, and a classically dressed (read that black cassocks with white surplices) choir of more than 45 voices.

As I arrived at the domineering wooden doors (both of which were pulled back into a welcoming position, fortunately) of West End I was promptly greeted by three women who handed me a bulletin, with a polite “good morning.” Within seconds they continued the conversation they had already been having with one another. Deciding to play the devil’s advocate visitor, I interrupted them by saying, “Excuse me. I’m visiting today, and I wonder if there’s anything special I need to know?”

My self-revelation caught them off guard, and for a moment they didn’t know quite what to say. Then followed an uncoordinated attempt to make me feel even more welcome. “Well, welcome, welcome. We’re glad you’re here this morning,” I heard all three voices chiming in without the pleasure of stereophonic composition. “Well, there aren’t any assigned seats,” one of my erstwhile guides informed me. “And,” the second person of the greeting trinity offered, in a manner which seemed relieved, “there’s no communion this morning, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

I smiled inwardly, thanked them for what I perceived to be their awkward communications, and ventured into the Gothic sanctuary. The sanctuary is a traditional worshiper’s dream. Vaulted ceilings, pillars, a long narrow nave with an exalted chancel and altar, all centered upon an organ whose serpentine pipes snaked across the front of the sanctuary. If you are a church building afficionado, you will understand when I say it smells like “old church.” It is not an unpleasant scent, but the aroma of years and years of worshiping upon wooden pews, wooden floors and concrete. I suppose “Gothic” and “warm” never really go together, and my experience today revealed that. The temperature within the sanctuary was cool to me, and if it is cool to me, then it must be frightfully frigid to natives of Nashville.

As an introvert I do not mind when I enter a new worship space and have little interaction with others. In fact, I prefer those moments of reverence and quietude as opportunities for me to focus and center myself. In a congregation as large as this, I did not expect to receive any personal welcome of any sort, and my expectations were well met. Other than the garralous greeting trinity at the door, not a single expression of welcome was directed toward me. While I do not mind, the population of extraverts in the world would probably experience this as “cold” and “unfriendly.”

Worship was spectacular for the liturgically oriented. After an organ prelude the choir sang an introit from the narthax before their auspicious entrance. Cross, torches, and forty-five choristers processed in before the four worship leaders (two elders, one deacon and a lay person) as together we sang “Immortable, Invisible, God Only Wise.”

The liturgical components of the service were well ordered and traditional worship lived this morning. The sermon was preached from Micah’s injunction to seek justice, love mercy and walk humbly with God. The preacher spoke in a confessional fashion of her interactions with the scripture text thorughout the week. She spent carefully planned time explaining her dilemma (that she realizes how she needs to live more consciously around God’s commands as recorded in Micah), exhorting the congregation to consider her plight, and ended with a plantive, convcting, “Will you help me?”

The offertory was a Beethoven piece sung by a gifted soprano. While I enjoyed her offering, I smiled within as I thought about how our youngest son might have evaluated her voice and the musical piece which reaches back several centuries. “Screechy,” might be a word he, not I, would use.

The service ended with a round based on the words of Micah we had heard proclaimed during worship. It was a moving service for this tradition-bound worshiper. And, I sensed, for those gathered in the sanctuary with me. I was impressed with the age diversity in the crowd. From college students to young adults to middle aged and elderly (not many children; perhaps there is children’s worship in another area), all segments were well represented. I was impressed to see how relevant for many of the younger ones traditional worship can be. This is certainly not a blanket statement, but I recognize again that “contemporary worship” is not necessarily defined by age, nor is traditional worship.

So. I worshiped well in a service whose tradition uplifted my heart and fed my soul. I was remidned of God’s blazing glory in the liturgical niceties of the morning. I was challenged to consider my relationship with God and the justice, mercy and love people of faith are commanded to pursue. I met God, but I’m not sure I met my fellow worshiper.

How Will I Fare?

It is a strange Sunday morning for me. I am in Nashville, Tennessee, on church-related business, attending a Middle Adult Summit beginning this afternoon through Tuesday, which is sponsored by the General Board of Discipleship. I am not accustomed to being in a strange community on Sunday morning, and even less accustomed to not leading worship and preaching. I will, however, be worshiping while I am here, although it will be with a group of people I have never met. In a few minutes I will walk three blocks from the hotel where I’m staying (walking is my only means of transportation this week, except for the shuttle to and from the airport) to worship at West End United Methodist Church.

I have a good idea of what the service will be like, because I’ve perused their website and listened to a previous worship service online. It will be a traditional worship service with plenty of “smells and bells,” as they say in more liturgical circles. I will be worshiping in the heart of the Bible belt, and I understand that the 11 o’clock service is the primary service of the morning. There will be much that I will be familiar with … the hymns, the liturgy, the music.

But I am still struck by a nagging question, “How will I fare in a worship community not my own?” It’s a strange question, really, and one that I shouldn’t even have to ask. I mean, after all, I have been in church nearly all of my life, have been a pastor for more than twenty years, and have been pastoring in United Methodist Churches for fourteen years. I should not be anxious about the experience, and I shouldn’t have to wonder, because I am familiar with what will happen, the church is part of my denominational family, and I have traveled enough to expect diversity. But I still have some repressed anxiety about showing up alone to worship in a service with people I do not know.

I cannot help but wonder, then, how the average de-churched or no-churched person in my community feels. How intimidating must be it be to do something so anxiety-producing when you may have not been in church for years, or do not know the people there, or have no experience with the denomination in question?

I will blog again later today about my experience in a new, strange place. I am on a mission of sorts … to experience what it feels like to be alone, unfamiliar and entering a strange place for the first time.

What’s Wrong With Today’s Youth

I hesitate to even title my blog post this way, because it does not reflect my enjoyment of and respect for youth (by which I mean those who are seventh through twelfth graders, but I might also include college-aged people in this category as well). The title, rather, reflects the prevailing thoughts of many “adults” who observe in bewilderment the youth culture of our day.

The ironic thing to me is that many of the adults of today who ask this question are the same adults who came of age in the 1960s when their own parents were left shaking their heads at the wanton disregard for society’s prevailing norms.

The youth of today are, it seems to me, the inheritors of the cultural revolution of their parents (and grandparents). There exist today few societal norms of appropriate behavior, language or expression. The movement toward radical autonomy embraced forty years ago has abused the concept of “community” or “community values.” The reality of the matter is that one is hard pressed to identify any shared “community values,” unless, of course, that community value is that we have no community values.

I guess I can understand why that might be true in a society like our US American one which embraces individualism and praises self-initiative. That we have moved from a community-centered society to an individual-centered society is not a surprise.

But what I have a hard time understanding is why we in the community of faith (whatever the local expression of that phrase might be) have become so enculturated by individualism. Few places of worship have a distinctive draw, and those that do seem to grow and flourish because they understand their uniqueness and they leverage it for growth.

Christian Smith, a youth researcher (whose recent research has focused upon spirituality and youth) speaks of “Moralistic Therapeutic Deism.” Smith contends that the majority of today’s North American youth culture (whether churched or not) subscribes to this philosophy characterized by five principles:

(1) A God exists who created and orders the world and watches over human life on earth;
(2) God wants people to be good, nice, and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions;
(3) The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself;
(4) God does not need to be particularly involved in one’s life except when God is needed to resolve a problem;
(5) Good people go to heaven when they die.

Based on my work with youth over the past twenty years, and based on what I experience today in working with youth of this age, I would have to affirm Smith’s contention. This is the prevailing worldview of the youth I know.

You can imagine their surprise when, for example, in confirmation classes I challenge their assumption that premartial sexual meanderings (however you wish to define that) are normal and ordinary parts of life. When I talk of a Christian view of sexuality as being intimately connected to marriage and not outside of marriage I receive either glazed looks or intrigued glances. For many of the youth I know saving sex for marriage is a novel concept. Their surprise to my counter-cultural instigations is not simply related to intimate matters such as these.

Often they find it difficult to understand a Christian concept of “sin” as separation from God and others. They have little inkling that they are anything less than (and always have been) fully moral and good at all times. What Christians have historically (well, for at least 2,000 years now) understand to be “sinful” is viewed often as simply another’s “choice,” a choice that has little immediate (and certainly no) eternal consequence.

Equally as jarring for many of the youth I work with is the idea that Jesus Christ holds any uniqueness in the world’s panoply of religious options. Their sense of pluralistic respect is laudable from a tolerance point of view (after all, I do not want the youth I interact with week after week to suddenly decide that Muslims or Buddhists or pagans, for that matter, are enemies to be conquered … this does not accord well even with Christ’s own directives to his followers), but how does one become a faithful disciple of Jesus Christ without a decision to make him a priority in one’s life?

As a Christian culture interacting with our larger world we are beyond the point of needing a simple reorientation (as may have been helpful during a “Christendom” era … more on that sometime later). Our situation is really much more like the apostolic era as recorded in the New Testament. We Christians are one group among many; we no longer have the “corner on the market” spiritually.

I find that invigorating and hopeful, frankly. That we Christians need to be dig deeper and discover anew the spiritually transforming power of Christ is that which beckons us forward.

It is the one hopeful sign I see amongst the youth I know today. If we who are rooted in our faith can find ways to offer spiritual transformation in Christ to our teenagers and young adults, we have great hope for the future. If not, we who are forty and above might as well consign ourselves to the fate of growing older and smaller together.

What’s wrong with today’s youth is that we who have been around awhile have assumed that socializing (whether it’s as simple as being nice to each other in “fellowship” or as specific enough as indoctrinating them in the ways we “do church” in our context) our youth is enough. It is not socializing our youth need; it is spiritualizing. And that is not just what youth need. It is what we all need.

Here Is Where It Begins

For some time now I have been blogging about the positives and negatives of adoptive parenting. Occasionally my adoptive parenting reflections include snippets about my vocational life, but generally I have tried to focus that blog in an adoption-related direction. Consequently those who know me primarily as a result of my vocation find too little about my pastoral life to be very relevant. On the other hand, those reading the other blog because of my adoptive parenting perspective become confused when I cross over into my pastoral life.

I have been reticent to launch a separate blog for several reasons, including the best use of my time, but most importantly because one of my orienting life principles is that my life needs to be integrated, seamless, having integrity. I make little separation between the three most important priorities in my life — God, my spouse and children, and my vocation. My daily experiences weave in, out, throughout, and back around again amongst these priorities, so it is not always easy (nor do I consider it best) to segment my life.

However, for the sake of clarity and focus, today I launch A Calling Reflected, in which I will offer my thoughts and experiences as a pastor of a growing, medium-sized mainline Christian congregation.

I should define what I mean by those descriptors. Pastor: a disciple of Jesus Christ who understands his/her calling to provide leadership in a faith community. In my case I am an ordained “Elder” in the United Methodist Church, which means that I have been set apart (“ordained”) by a Bishop, on behalf of the whole (“universal”) Church to Service, Order, Word and Sacrament. In the United Methodist tradition an “Elder” is ordained and is itinerant, which means that we serve at the appointment of our resident Bishop, in consultation with the Cabinet (in our case six District Superintendents form the Bishop’s Cabinet) and local congregations. In other words, although there is a consultative process, the final decision regarding where a pastor serves resides with our Bishop.

Growing: a community of faith (“church” or “congregation”) in which there is a desire and evidence of spiritual deepening (internal growth), as well as a growing awareness and passion for reaching others (external growth) with the good news of Christ Jesus.

“Medium-sized”: this is, admittedly, a subjective descriptor which is highly contextual. In Minnesota what we mean by “medium-sized” United Methodist Church is a congregation in which the Sunday morning worship average attendance is between 195-240 people. By contrast, in other parts of the country where United Methodism is a dominant faith expression, “medium” might mean more than double the above figure.

“Mainline”: a hackneyed, less-than-useful phrase these days, but it might communicate something to some. Realistically I believe that a better descriptor might be “oldline” reflecting cultural reality, but I hang on to the hope that by “mainline” we might mean inclusive and broad enough to welcome diversity.

“Christian”: This adjective is a significant, though often assumed, one when speaking of “church,” but I’ve learned that it’s a designation often requiring clarity. I may say more about this in a later post.

“Congregation”: the people of God who gather together for worship, fellowship, outreach and mission. God’s people in Christ are not bounded by the walls of an edifice, the bureaucracies of an institutional religious setting or the historic human divisions which continue to segment society.

That may give you a better sense of how it all begins for me. In the posts ahead I anticipate theological, ethical, spiritual, and vocational reflections.