american christianity

On the Impossibility of Revitalizing the Institutional Church

More and more, denominations are coming to the realization that starting new ministries is the most effective way to reach more people with the gospel of Jesus Christ. And in this era of “nones” and declining church participation across the board, reaching more people is in higher demand than ever. Regardless of what we may say to the contrary, church is still primarily a numbers game, and bigger certainly wins.

They may be right.

But for good or for ill, as a pastor, that isn’t what I’m called to do. Instead of forming a new ministry with no weirdness outside of my own, I’m called to deal with decades of previous, overlapping, compounded, criss-crossing weirdnesses in addition to my own. Instead of energy put into mission in the world, I’m called to deal with energy around preserving what has been. Instead of shaping a ministry from the outset to deal with the realities of 21st century culture, I’m called to deal with memories of church in the 1970s and 80s. Although I have never been a new mission developer, I have overseen that work, admired (envied?) those with the gifts to do it, and have an understanding of the intensity of work involved. I have celebrated with new mission developers who, in part because of their exhaustive work and dedication, have seen their ministries explode in growth. I’ve wept with new mission developers who, despite their exhaustive work and dedication, had to shut down their ministries before they ever got off the ground. By and large, developing new ministries is a pretty effective way to reach new people we haven’t been able to reach before, e.g., ethnic groups, LGBTQ folks, and Millenials. It’s exciting, invigorating, and exhausting!

And yet, I’m called to reach those people through the ministries of existing congregations. I don’t have the gifts, the aptitude, or the extroversion to start a new congregation. Since I believe with all my being that the church–whether 3 minutes old or 3 centuries–is created and called by God to proclaim and participate in God’s mission in the world, I have a choice to make. I can work to preserve and maintain an institutional congregation or I can attempt the impossible–revitalize one so it can embrace the LGBTQ community in the neighborhood, the Spanish-speaking in the neighborhood, and a new generation of those largely uninterested in anything the institutional church has to say in the neighborhood.

For me there is no real choice. I’ve spent almost 30 years feeling like Don Quijote, jousting at windmills. Many say the work that I (and any number of others) are trying to do is a waste of time, since it is so rarely successful. Sometimes I agree. I can’t begin to count the number of sleepless nights I’ve spent because my congregations  have chosen status quo over mission. My wife still experiences post-traumatic stress at congregational meetings because of the hateful and anti-Christian comments that have been said about her husband over the years. I believe I could fill a lake with tears spilled over people we’ve hurt in our stubborness, neighbors we’ve neglected in our obtuseness, Spirit-given opportunities we’ve missed because of our institutionalization. My children have seen the dark under-belly of the church, and have no illusions about how badly we can behave. I’ve yelled at God until I’m hoarse, begging for some tangible sign of success or mission advancement.

Is revitalizing an existing, institutional congregation impossible? I will never believe that. The God who raised Jesus from the dead is the same God of these status quo fortresses. Some of these institutions will die in the next generation. Others will manage to hang on. And a very few will be moved by the Holy Spirit to die to themselves and be raised again as communities boldly overflowing with mercy and grace in their surrounding neighborhoods. A very few.

And I want desperately to be part of one of those. I want to be in a faith community that uses its tradition and heritage as tools to be fully present in a broken world. I want to see the lights come on in the eyes of an 80-year-old guardian of the institutional church when he passes on his great faith to a teenager in baggy pants with his belt below his butt. I long for this.

And I’ve seen it.

Glory to God, I’ve been part of it. It doesn’t happen every day. It doesn’t get the glitz and the press of new mission starts. But I get glimpses of the reign of God present in the institutional church. I’ve seen a martriarch who fought me over every little change put her arms around a single mother and hold her. I’ve seen a stoic defender of the status quo mist up when serving holy communion to a disheveled stranger. I’ve watched as neighborhood children suddenly have advocates, as a quiet young mother prays with a sick and elderly woman, as a child actually shouts for joy after taking bread and wine with the rest of her congregation. I’ve been part of a church community where the mentally ill are accepted and the differently abled are treasured. I’ve been partners with the most disagreeable alligators who serve food in a homeless shelter every week, offering dignity and grace in addition to a plate of food and a warm bed.

You have too.

Honestly, there probably won’t be a lot of existing, institutional congregations that will look like exciting new mission starts. And some of our existing congregations need to recognize that their days are coming to an end. But God will not be denied. Resurrection is real. Perhaps our success isn’t to be measured in bunches of shiny new participants but in the straggly and disheartened ones who are touched by Christ’s love through us but will never step into our old buildings. Maybe the conflicts over carpet and wallpaper don’t overshadow the foundational love and compassion that are often shown in the neighborhood but even more often go unnoticed.

And, perhaps most importantly, we battered, bloodied, and sometimes exhausted clergy-types need to support one another in seeing God at work in our midst. Attempting to be part of the revitalization of an exising church is lonely, difficult, and endless work. The rewards are few and far between. The glamour is usually non-existent. So perhaps it would be a good idea to call a pastor in your neighborhood and take them to lunch. Listen and find ways to affirm what they are doing. Ask them to do the same for you. God’s reign is happening all around us–let’s make sure we don’t miss it due to weariness or discouragement from attempting an impossible job.

Categories: american christianity, church growth, Church in Context, Church in Transition, Evangelism, Institutional Church, kingdom of God, missional church, religious, Revitalization, spirituality | 4 Comments

“I’m Just Fine Without Your Religion”

Finally, some in the  church are getting it. People aren’t looking for a church with great youth programs, good education, relevant preaching, historic liturgy, or a solid band. No, they aren’t looking for a church that will support them in difficult times. And, no, they arent looking for a place from which to be buried. The fact is, they aren’t looking for a church at all. Period. That is all.

Once we get that, we are free to be an authentic church, in relationship with our neighborhoods. From there, we are best equipped to participate in, and reveal, the reign of God. It all starts, however, with listening–something at which the church has been historically bad.

Check out this outstanding blog post by Laura Everett to get a clue about how different the future of the church is looking if we are faithful.
http://reveverett.com/2013/06/11/religious-nones/

Listen, listen, listen to those outside the church. People don’t want a church. At least not the way we’re presenting it. Perhaps not at all. Can we live with that? What does that mean for how we see ourselves? For our measurements of success? For our relationships with our neighbors?

Categories: american christianity, church growth, Church in Context, Church in Transition, Evangelism, missional church, religious, spirituality | Leave a comment

No More “Recovery” Ministry: Millenials and the Church

The Church as a whole is bemoaning its inability to keep — much less attract —  “Millenials,” those born between 1980 and 2000 (plus or minus). Basically, this means teens and young adults. Guest blogger Pastor Brigette Weier points out some of the hard-to-hear reasons for this generational gap and what the “typical,” i.e., Baby Boomer, congregation can do to turn this around. If the gospel of Christ proclaimed by the church is for all people, the Church of the Baby Boomers has some changing to do. For more about Pastor Brigette’s cross-generational ministry, see her web site at http://faithformationjourneys.org.

On Sunday evening, I worshiped and ate with Pastor Zach Parris and the young Millennials of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America’s (ELCA) Campus Ministry at the University of Colorado. I had brought two of my high school youth, one of whom will be attending CU in the fall. We listened to guitar music, heard the scripture read, listened to a pretty darn good sermon, heard words of love and forgiveness, shared in the bread and the wine, as well as pizza, salad, cookies and soda. It was the last such gathering of the semester and five young adults in the group who were graduating. Through tears and laughter they reminisced about what it meant to be part of this small, but impactful group. They had traveled on service trips together, braved snow and cold to hand cookies out to fellow students studying for finals, gathered for meals, teased one another, and prayed for each other. This is not a large ministry. At a major university that serves tens of thousands of students, only about 8-10 consistently gather in the basement of Grace Lutheran Church in Boulder each week. It’s such a breathtakingly beautiful and authentic community that I can’t help but to wonder why isn’t this room packed to the ceiling with young adults?

I began to reflect on how different this “worship” experience is from what we in the “traditional” congregations offer for worship. There was casual conversation, interaction, REAL FOOD, authentic emotion, and integration of daily life with this sacred time set apart. Many youth (my own teenagers, as well as youth in my congregation) probably would not say that these are experiences that they have in their Sunday morning experience where adults lead worship (except the acolytes–confirmand rite of passage, you know), adults preach, adults administer the sacraments, adults shuttle them upstairs (or downstairs) for age segregated “education,” and most of the morning is spent being told to sit and listen and to act a certain way. No wonder by the time they are seniors in high school looking at going away to college, the last thing they will consider is where to go to church on a Sunday morning. We have trained them to not be too engaged in their own faith and that church is not really for them.

And then consider that when these young people do graduate from college, the norm in today’s economic reality is to move back home for a period of time with mom and dad–therefore back to the home congregation. So for the small percentage that does participate in four-or-so years of active engagement and involvement in campus ministry (that is not “to” them or “for” them but BY them), the church that they grew up with will indeed be inauthentic, irrelevant and not desirable.

How should experiences in campus ministry inform what congregations offer this generation? How can all generations be truly integrated on a Sunday morning? I believe that it is possible for our congregations and for our Church to take a cue from these young adults who faithfully gather in Boulder, CO at 5:11 p.m. every Sunday evening. We need to consider what it is to be affirming and authentic community that builds everyone up so that no one is excluded or felt to be on the outside. While I appreciate and am grateful for the work that some of my colleagues do around creating a space to welcome back those who have become disenfranchised from the Church for one reason or another (what I call “recovery ministry”), I can’t help but to think-what if they were never disenfranchised to begin with? What if they felt that this Church with her message of eternal love, radical inclusivity and abundant grace and forgiveness from an ever present God was always for them, by them and with them? What if we as a people of God really decided to live this out? What if we declared that there would no longer be a need for “recovery ministry” because all people would experience church as a real home-safe, freeing and full of unconditional love? For me, it would be the in-breaking of the kingdom of God.

Categories: american christianity, Church in Context, Church in Transition, Evangelism, missional church | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

God’s Test Plot

What do God’s values look like in your context?

No, really, what are the results of forgiveness, love, grace, and generosity being lived in your neighborhood?

Here’s the deal: God is bringing a new future that lines up with God’s own priorities. God is actively doing this. It will happen. It is happening. Right now. Jesus is the visible, tangible, focal point of that reality. God’s mission is all about redeeming a broken creation. Period. In the death and resurrection of Christ, God shows creation just how committed God is to that future. It’s here. We get to see samples of it now and again.

So God has gathered a community of people and elected them to be a “test plot” for this new future. According to an article published by Purdue University (full article), the goal of an agricultural test plot “is to identify differences among ‘treatments’ under ‘real world’ conditions.” In other words, this new community is “treated” by God with forgiveness, unconditional love, unlimited mercy, and extravagant generosity, then lives these values in the midst of the world as a sample of God’s new future.

The purpose of this new community, the church, is to allow the world to sample God’s future now, in the context of their everyday lives. The church is comprised of us who are baptized into this community in the name of the Father, + and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. We exist as church for the sake of being a sample of God’s future in the world. For the sake of the world.

This means the church stands for some things. And it means the church stands against other things.  For example, the church does not exist to get people into heaven when they die. It does not exist to get people to believe a certain way. It does not exist for its own sake. It does not exist to gain members or improve programs or enlarge its own budget. Rather, the church is placed in neighborhoods so that those neighborhoods have the opportunity to sample the love, forgiveness, authentic relationships, and generosity of God’s present/coming reign. And having experienced its effects, are then changed by them.

The ways that the church can participate as test plots of grace and unconditional love are innumerable. Though the values of God’s present/coming reign are the same in all places and in all times, the world culture in which those kingdom values are lived varies incredibly. The context of each congregational community is unique. Therefore, when the values of God’s reign are introduced into each context, it will look different according to each context. More on that next time. But for now, consider how you are living the forgiveness, love, compassion, and generosity of God in your own context. What are the results?

Categories: american christianity, Church in Context, kingdom of God, religious, spirituality | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Insights into the Election of a Bishop: Part 3, “Called Beyond My Comfort–Again”

This blog is mainly a “Missional Church” blog with helpful insights and conversations about how congregations can deepen their understanding and participation in God’s mission. However, this series of three posts are more personal. I believe them to be beneficial for the broader church, but for different reasons. You decide for yourselves.

Here’s the situation: I was recently a “middle of the pack” nominee for the office of bishop in the Rocky Mountain Synod of the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America). I’m sharing the journey of that process with you from the inside. I hope you find it beneficial at whatever level you are open. You can catch up by reading Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

At the Rocky Mountain Synod Assembly, almost 500 voting members gathered, sent from each congregation in the 4+ state territory that comprises this synod. The big agenda item was the election of a new bishop as our current bishop, Allan Bjornberg, was retiring after 18 years of faithful service in that office.

The first ballot was a nominating ballot. All of the pre-nominated 17 were, in fact, nominated. Myself included. At this point nominations were closed, and one of the 24 people who accepted this nomination would be called as the RMS bishop.

The second ballot required voting members to vote for one of these 24. The top seven would move on to the third ballot and would be asked to address the assembly the next day. When the votes were tallied, there was a tie for seventh place, therefore the top eight would actually move on to the third ballot. Yours truly was in ninth place, one vote behind seven/eight.

I’ll admit I was a bit disappointed. And yet, I swear, at the moment it sank in that I was out of the running, the colors in that large conference room became brighter. Kind of like the allergy medicine commercial on TV where the hazy filter is peeled away to reveal how bright things can be. My breathing became noticeably deeper. I felt like I had suddenly lost ten pounds. And I was aware that anytime I wasn’t conscious of it, I was smiling. I think I actually skipped out of the assembly gathering for the dinner break.

That night I slept like a rock for the first time in months. Finally, this ordeal was over for me. The eight candidates remaining were all solid, wonderful, faithful people. And none of them were me. Whew. As far as my participation was concerned, this process was finished. I had been faithful to the leading of the Holy Spirit, learned some things, and moved past some personal obstacles. Thank you Jesus. Let’s elect a bishop, finish up the assembly, and go home.

The Rev. Jim Gonia was elected on the fifth ballot. My experience of his election was deep, spiritual, and moving. It seemed that the Holy Spirit had truly worked through this gathering of amazingly diverse Lutherans who gathered from the ranches of Wyoming; the urban centers of Denver, Salt Lake City, Albuquerque, and Colorado Springs; the border community of El Paso, and many other communities—large and small—that make up the territory of the Rocky Mountain Synod. I was taken aback at the powerful effect his election had on me. This person had truly been called by God to this office. It was a win/win. God had called someone who had responded, and it wasn’t me.

As I gathered one evening with a few other colleagues toward the end of this election process, one of them asked that since I was out of the running, what I was going to do now. “What do you mean?” I asked. “It seems self-evident. I’m out of the running. I don’t do anything.” No, this colleague answered. It’s not over. It’s just beginning. You were a viable candidate for bishop of this synod. Like it or not, Rob, you owe it to this church to speak out. Apparently, you have something to say that this synod wants to hear.

In my 27 years of ordained ministry, I think I’ve spoken into a microphone at a synod assembly once. Not my forte, not my comfort zone, not my desire. I’ve not expressed any aspiration to serve on any synod-wide committee, council, or task force. Although I allowed myself to be nominated for and subsequently elected to the synod’s Mission Outreach Board some years ago, I’ve never promoted that position or publicized my work there. I work as a team with my fellow board members, learning, speaking at meetings when necessary, and (as is so often my style) quietly influencing when I know something that’s relevant to the agenda or when I believe something ought to be on the agenda. I rarely “speak out” at synod assemblies, board meetings, or anywhere else outside of the pulpit.

Now I wonder, perhaps, if I’m being called to move beyond my own comfort again. If the demon that has kept me relatively silent for fear of ridicule has been exorcized (see part two of this blog series), then who knows what God will now call me to do and/or say? I am passionate about this church, I see God at work in and through us. I have the background, education, and experience to have a voice. I believe with all that is within me that the purpose of the church is not to do church, but to be the church God has called and gathered. And to be that church in the world. I can lead my congregation in living that out through new and fuller means. I can articulate that in any number of ways. I can imagine that in even more ways. Perhaps I can use a new-found voice to be more effective in encouraging and challenging others to be missional church as well.

Which is why this blog exists and how this series fits into it.

And that, my dear reader, is how God has used this bishop election in ways that I never could have imagined. Soli Deo Gloria!

Categories: american christianity, Church in Context | Tags: , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Insights into the Election of a Bishop, Part Two: “The Presence of God Revealed in Unlikely Ways”

Part Two: “The Presence of God Revealed in Unlikely Ways”

This blog is mainly a “Missional Church” blog with helpful insights and conversations about how congregations can deepen their understanding and participation in God’s mission. However, the next few posts will be more personal. I believe them to be beneficial for the broader church, but for different reasons. You decide for yourselves.

Here’s the situation: I was recently a “middle of the pack” nominee for the office of bishop in the Rocky Mountain Synod of the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America). I’m sharing the journey of that process with you from the inside. I hope you find it beneficial at whatever level you are open. You can catch up by reading Part One here.

Because of the way the bishop election was set up, my name, photo, and biographical information (resume), along with the 16 other pre-nominees, were quite public for more than two months before the actual election process in April. The rationale was to give voting members plenty of time to review information on potential candidates and to come to the assembly prepared to nominate and vote in successive ballots.

In the meantime, I had informed my congregation council of these events and possible ramifications. They were supportive, asked appropriate questions, and agreed to keep this confidential ntil such time as we could agree on the most appropriate way to inform the congregation. We decided that a congregation-wide email, written by me, would go out in the next few days. That would be followed up by verbal explanation by me on the following Sunday during worship. My fear was that the congregation would somehow receive this news as a desire on my part to leave them—which couldn’t be further from the truth. The congregation, however, was characteristically supportive and promised to keep this election process—and me—in prayer.

On another front, many conversations among fellow clergy-types included the list of seventeen potential candidates. There was a lot of evaluation, a lot of questions, and a lot of critique. Motives were guessed at and qualifications examined. This began as a time of severe self-consciousness for me. I felt as if I needed to remain quiet among colleagues lest it appear I was somehow campaigning for this office. At the same time I wanted to remain authentic and speak among them of those things about which I have knowledge and passion. It was a difficult and tension-filled balancing act.

In the midst of balancing this fear and tension God broke through in a couple of impressive ways. The first involved my daughter, who for medical and other reasons had left college before graduating a couple of years earlier. She came over to the house one evening and announced to my wife and me that she had applied, and had been accepted, to return to college. She told me that if I could enter into this bishop process in spite of my terror, she could face whatever issues might come her way and complete her degree. As a self-proclaimed education snob, I was beyond grateful. I was thrilled. I was delighted. If I had the skill and agility, I would have danced. Even if this was all that came out of this whole “bishop thing” (as my family and I now called it), that was more than enough.

 

The second thing God did was exorcise a personal demon in my life. All of the old torments from Junior High that I thought I had dealt with long ago had been resuscitated in this process. Irrational fear and self-consciousness that I thought had been put to death had merely been covered over. Now that I was more or less forced to deal with the vulnerability that accompanied being one of the seventeen potential nominees for bishop, God took the opportunity to rid me of many of those fears. As I dealt with my paralyzing terror of ridicule, mockery, and snickering, I became aware of how much influence those things still had in my life. I also became aware of how their hold on me was disappearing. I can only explain the liberation I was experiencing as an exorcism. The demon of fear was being cast out of me. I was being set free. This was a biblical experience in the most profound sense of the term. It was deeply spiritual. The crucified and risen Jesus had come, found me in my terror-bound captivity, and set me free.

 

A member of my congregation asked me, a couple of week before the synod assembly, what was going on with me. My preaching, this person said, now has a further power and clarity that wasn’t there before. My only explanation was that death and resurrection are real. I was experiencing it. Again, if this is what came out of the “bishop thing,” I would be more than grateful. I was, for the first time, content in the chaos and weirdness of this pre-election process. Let the synod assembly come. Whatever happened would be fine with me. The outcome of the election of our new bishop in some ways no longer mattered to me. There was no pride at stake if I wasn’t actually nominated and no anxiety if I was actually elected. It wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about me. It was about God continuing to reveal God’s self in some strange and wonderful ways. There was peace. My yoke was now easy. My burden was now light.

 

I was ready for anything at the Rocky Mountain Synod Assembly. I fully expected the Spirit of God to be at work, even through the church! Which will be the focus in Part Three.

 

Categories: american christianity, religious, rostered leaders, spirituality | Tags: , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Right and Left Both Have Room to Grow and Learn. Now, If We Can Only Admit It…

The topic of religious right/left conversations is a hot, but necessary one to keep in front of us as Christian people. We have more in common than we think. And the commonalities are stronger, deeper, and more central to our identity than any differences we can possibly throw at one another.

Dr. Dave Daubert of “Day 8 Strategies” has posted on his blog a great contribution to this conversation entitled, Responsible Living: A Shared Center. His point is that both right and left share a common concern of responsibility–whether for one’s self or for one another, we can learn from one another. In so doing we bear a fuller witness to the purpose of Christianity in the world and reveal more fully the grace and compassion of God.


Categories: american christianity, spirituality | Tags: , , , , , | 1 Comment

Why Can’t I Have Conversations With The Religious Right?

There are many who would agree with me when I say I don’t talk right. No, nothing as trivial as grammar or syntax, I’m talking the language of the theological (which is often accompanied by the political) right. I find it difficult—sometimes impossible—to engage in conversation with those whose faith perspectives are so vastly different from my own as to appear poles apart. It is not dissimilar from times I’ve tried to converse with someone who doesn’t speak English (the only language in which I can claim any level of competent communicative skill whatsoever). I know a few phrases of conservative evangelical-speak, enough to get me into trouble, really. Kind of like being at a church in Mexico and asking someone in Spanish where the bathroom was. I got an answer, in Spanish, and though I tried to follow the directions given, I really had no idea where the bathroom actually was. I think I ended up peeing in a closet.

I’d like to be able to have a conversation with my right-leaning brothers and sisters. I really would. Well, I think I really would. But there are, I believe, some significant reasons why I’m not optimistic about doing so.

First, in order to have a conversation, there has to be authentic listening. I’ve snarkily quipped on more than one occasion that when you’re right, you don’t have to listen to anyone else. Both right and left are guilty of this; at least I think I am. And I know many on the right are. No listening, no conversation, no understanding; just opposition, ridicule, and self-righteousness. And that’s a poor expression of our unity in Christ. The world notices.

Second, we refuse to understand the perspective of the other. I think that to do so, we’d have to admit that the other side might have some valid points. I know that Jesus agrees with me, and that’s as far as I need to go, right? I’ve got proof-texts. I’ve got lots of like-minded people who affirm that for me because Jesus agrees with my friends too. So we avoid the difficult conversations with those others, choosing instead to remain with our own kind. It’s safe here with Jesus.

Third, we are often starting in different places. What each of us assumes to be foundational may not actually be the case for the other. We all talk about the Trinity, about the cross and resurrection, about mission and ministry, even about the Bible, but sometimes have vastly different understandings about what these things and their purposes are.

This was driven home to me recently in some blog discussions about spirituality. I’ve taken for granted that spirituality is lived communally, in the world, as an expression of the compassion and service to which we are called in baptism. Jesus’ washing of the disciples’ feet in John’s version of the Last Supper is the height of spirituality for me and many on the left. That simply doesn’t register in conversations with the right. Rather, they seem to mean by spirituality one’s relationship with God on an individual level, including personal prayer practices, meditative Bible reading/memorization, retreats, and being in love with Jesus (I hope that doesn’t come across as snarky). To me, that’s more personal piety and less spirituality, and runs the danger of turning in on one’s self at the expense of “true” spirituality—serving the poor and oppressed (OK, that was snarky). See why I find the conversation difficult?

Learning to converse together in the throes of disagreements, yet still united as the body of Christ, will make us more open to conversing with brothers and sisters beyond Christianity. The art and skill of listening, of understanding, of learning from each other make us better Christians. That, it seems to me, is something Jesus would want us to do.

But then again, that’s probably a left-leaning value that I’m imposing on the right. And they’ll likely take offense. Then become even more judgmental. See? There’s just no talking with those conservative, narrow minded, self-righteous . . .

Categories: american christianity, spirituality | Tags: , , , , , | 9 Comments

Confessions of a Time-Hoarder

Being financially generous is fairly easy for me. I tithe to my church, I tip very well in restaurants, I buy cookies from every Girl Scout who asks (and then give them away), I have been an ATM for my kids, have charities I support, and so on. So I have a confession to make: I can be a bit judgmental toward those stingy, selfish, hoarding, tippers-for-the-kingdom people. All evidence to the contrary.

What made me come to this confessional moment was the recognition that I am stingy, selfish, and hoarding too—not with money, but with time. All the harsh things I’ve thought over the years about the excuses people make for keeping money are all true for me and time:

  • I’ve earned this time, so I can do with it what I want.
  • I need to take care of my own time first and then I’ll donate any I have left over.
  • I can’t afford to give any more time.
  • I’m on a fixed income of time, and so I have to be careful.
  • At least I give more time than some other people I know.
  • All the church ever talks about is time, that’s all they want from me.

So I stand convicted. The law is at work in me. I am embarrassed and a bit ashamed. I am in need of forgiveness. Seriously.

But there’s still a problem—I can live with the small amount of guilt, because I don’t really want to change my time-habits. I am in bondage to sin and cannot free myself. Admittedly, I generally enjoy the way I use time. As an enneagram 5, I am greedy about time and want to control as much of it as I can myself. I will need an intervention by the Holy Spirit to change my heart on this, because I don’t see much solemn repentance happening in my life around this issue.

I suspect, however, that the wretched Holy Spirit is beginning to do some cursed changes anyway. Otherwise, I don’t think I would have realized my own chronological stinginess and likely wouldn’t have made some sort of public confession on the issue.

I really don’t want to change, though. And I’m willing to bet I’ll be fighting the Holy Spirit tooth-and-nail on this one. I hope I win, but I’m afraid I won’t. I do know I’ll fight a good fight.

I fear I’m already losing some ground. This is what God seems to have achieved in me: I have more empathy (a little bit) for those who cling to their finances as if doing so would be life-giving. For I recognize I do the same. I will withhold judgment (somewhat) against those who keep as much money as they can. For I know I am the same. At least God isn’t driving me to give time at a Food Pantry or be a CASA volunteer. At least not yet.

I’ll be watching to see how God continues working this one. I can afford the time.

I am curious, however, as to how others are generous with the gift of time God gives every day. Would you mind taking a little time and sharing that here? Thanks.

Categories: american christianity, Stewardship | Tags: , , | 1 Comment

Listening in the Image of God, Part 6 of 6

This is a series on listening. Relationships are in the image of the triune God, and listening is an essential (first!) component to relationships. It can be said that listening is, in fact, in the image of God, and ought to be a higher priority for the body of Christ that perhaps it currently is. This quick series can help congregations listen to their neighborhoods–in the image of God.

The Stylist:

You know one of the best places to listen to the people of your neighborhood? Seriously, it’s the local barbershop or salon. Don’t underestimate this amazing listening resource! While you’re getting your hair colored or trimmed, do a little bit of eavesdropping (politely, of course). For some reason, people seem to feel quite free to express honest opinions on every matter under the sun when sitting in a chair in front of someone with sharp scissors very near their scalp. I’m not sure if there’s a significant relationship between scissors and expressed opinions, but it does seem to work. Ask a question about any issue in the community and then sit back and take mental notes. You can do the same thing in the bank, the grocery store, the gas station, and so on. Some have told me that this works well in a bar too, but that, of course, would be just hearsay on my part. .  .  .

Next time everyone on your team gets a haircut or manicure or whatever, commit to utilizing this resource. Make a list of questions about which you want to know the answers regarding your neighborhood, and divide them up. Gather in a couple of weeks after everyone has their hair and/or nails done, and share your notes. Again, make sure everyone’s listening observations are recorded. Not only will this follow up meeting get you get right down to some significant listening, but it’ll probably be the best looking meeting you all attend together!

Categories: american christianity, Church in Context, Church in Transition | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: