Well, I'm almost ready to disengage for awhile. The past seventy-two hours have been intense with trying to get as much done as I can before I leave. I promised to communicate when I came to interview with the search committee five years ago; and I have tried to be diligent about keeping my word. It is a promise I take seriously. I also want to be accessible to all our members and friends. I try hard, but cannot do it all the time. Ultimately, this ministry is about being in touch and in tune with God. Amid the frantic rushing of our lives, work itself can become idolatrous. Losing myself in the next email or phone call or appointment . . . is this living? Is this really what God hopes for us?
A dear friend, whose father was a gifted German Evangelical pastor--one of my predecessor pastors in California, Missouri--gave me a copy of A Diary of Private Prayer by John Baillie as I was preparing to move to New Hampshire. Dorothy said the little devotional book was beside her father's chair in the days of his declining health "as a daily friend."
I, too, have cherished this book--this gift from my friend, although my reading of it has been sporadic. There is, however, one petition in a morning prayer that has spoken to the depths of my spirit: "O God, give me grace so to live this day that, whatever else I lose, I may not lose my soul." In the midst of many loses, may I not lose my soul. In the midst of many meetings and so many opportunities for ministry, may I not lose my soul. Beyond the frantic rush of life, may there be sabbath seasons of quiet and rest, that I may not lose my soul.
Time to disengage and rest . . . .
Friday, July 29, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
Beyond Decline, Beyond Death
I have been reading J. Russell Crabtree's The Fly in the Ointment (Church Publishing, 2008). The book is making the rounds in middle judicatory circles. The subtitle gets our attention, Why Denominations Aren't Helping Their Congregations . . . And How They Can.
One of the ideas that intrigues me is that churches stop growing when some "critical resource" is depleted. Crabtree says that a new organization will spend its initial energy getting its house in order, laying a foundation for its future, shaping its common life with the vision of those founding members. There isn't much growth in the Organizing Phase, but a lot of important work gets done.
In the Replication Phase the organization puts to work what it created in that initial stage. It reproduces itself several times over, growing ever larger. This growth requires the expenditure of critical resources (not primarily financial). For example, the key entry positions in the organization get filled, so that newcomers do not really have a place in which to be involved and become incorporated into the body. Space may also become an issue: Is there really room in the parking lot and in the pew for everyone?
Most of our local churches (and the conference and denomination itself) have settled into the third phase of the cycle, the Stable Phase. This phase, it seems to me, is really not so "stable"; it is mostly about stagnation and decline. We have yet to discover new resources to encourage new growth, new energy, and new life. We look back to some former time, some former leader, and some former success. But, what was it that God spoke to the exiles? Remember not the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing, now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? (Is. 43:18f.)
So, I wonder what is the "critical resource" that has been depleted among us? It would be easy to cast this solely in economic terms. We no longer have the financial resources to thrive. Our endowments are being depleted. Our buildings are in need of major capital expense. We can no longer maintain what others have built. But I suspect that the "critical resource" that needs renewing is faith, trust in the God who called us into this community in the first place. God still calls us to be the Church. God still promises us a future beyond decline and death--resurrection, new creation, eternal life. God still speaks.
And . . . it's not only about organizations and churches. It's about us. It's about me. This is the stuff with which I struggle daily. Does the past have more power than the promise? Are memories of times and people long gone stronger than the gift of hope that propels me to a new day, to new people, and to a new way of being in the world? It's ultimately about trusting in the faithfulness of the Living God.
How to rekindle the gift of faith . . . .
One of the ideas that intrigues me is that churches stop growing when some "critical resource" is depleted. Crabtree says that a new organization will spend its initial energy getting its house in order, laying a foundation for its future, shaping its common life with the vision of those founding members. There isn't much growth in the Organizing Phase, but a lot of important work gets done.
In the Replication Phase the organization puts to work what it created in that initial stage. It reproduces itself several times over, growing ever larger. This growth requires the expenditure of critical resources (not primarily financial). For example, the key entry positions in the organization get filled, so that newcomers do not really have a place in which to be involved and become incorporated into the body. Space may also become an issue: Is there really room in the parking lot and in the pew for everyone?
Most of our local churches (and the conference and denomination itself) have settled into the third phase of the cycle, the Stable Phase. This phase, it seems to me, is really not so "stable"; it is mostly about stagnation and decline. We have yet to discover new resources to encourage new growth, new energy, and new life. We look back to some former time, some former leader, and some former success. But, what was it that God spoke to the exiles? Remember not the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing, now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? (Is. 43:18f.)
So, I wonder what is the "critical resource" that has been depleted among us? It would be easy to cast this solely in economic terms. We no longer have the financial resources to thrive. Our endowments are being depleted. Our buildings are in need of major capital expense. We can no longer maintain what others have built. But I suspect that the "critical resource" that needs renewing is faith, trust in the God who called us into this community in the first place. God still calls us to be the Church. God still promises us a future beyond decline and death--resurrection, new creation, eternal life. God still speaks.
And . . . it's not only about organizations and churches. It's about us. It's about me. This is the stuff with which I struggle daily. Does the past have more power than the promise? Are memories of times and people long gone stronger than the gift of hope that propels me to a new day, to new people, and to a new way of being in the world? It's ultimately about trusting in the faithfulness of the Living God.
How to rekindle the gift of faith . . . .
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Sacred Space
Last night I visited during the first senior high camp at Horton Center. I arrived just in time for the talent show. What a spirited time! Great fun. How do they come up with those skits? Our churches have some talented and committed youth and young adults.
As I went to sleep, the Genesis text (Gn. 28:10-22) from next Sunday's lectionary lingered in my mind. How does a "certain place" become for us a "sacred place"? Jacob experienced that in the text when he saw the ladder connecting heaven and earth and heard God's promise spoken afresh, directly to him. That promise, of course, had very public implications: "all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you." But, it must also have been reassuring to one trying to escape from the trouble with his brother. God promised to be with him through the journeys--through awful and awesome places. The "certain place" became for him, Bethel, the House of God and the gate of heaven.
Horton Center on Pine Mountain ("the Mountain") is like Bethel, a sacred place for so many, a place where God meets us and speaks to us. I was privileged last night to experience the energy, the spirit, the hospitality . . . and look forward to another visit soon.
As I went to sleep, the Genesis text (Gn. 28:10-22) from next Sunday's lectionary lingered in my mind. How does a "certain place" become for us a "sacred place"? Jacob experienced that in the text when he saw the ladder connecting heaven and earth and heard God's promise spoken afresh, directly to him. That promise, of course, had very public implications: "all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you." But, it must also have been reassuring to one trying to escape from the trouble with his brother. God promised to be with him through the journeys--through awful and awesome places. The "certain place" became for him, Bethel, the House of God and the gate of heaven.
Horton Center on Pine Mountain ("the Mountain") is like Bethel, a sacred place for so many, a place where God meets us and speaks to us. I was privileged last night to experience the energy, the spirit, the hospitality . . . and look forward to another visit soon.
Monday, July 11, 2011
A Tribute to the Teacher
On Tuesday, July 5, 2011, the Rev. Dr. Lionel A. "Lee" Whiston, Jr., died at the age of 93. Dr. Whiston served as Professor of Old Testament at Eden Seminary from 1956-1983. He was a graduate of Bates College in Maine; received a Bachelor of Divinity Degree from Andover Newton Theological School (1942); and his ThD from Harvard University (1951).
Lee was the professor who sat on my junior oral exam committee at Eden. He was there as I walked through the deep valley of divorce in 1981-82. He offered me sage counsel when I contemplated delaying the final semester of my senior year because my father had been diagnosed with a brain tumor in November of 1981, and I felt conflicted in my soul. In the midst of my confusion, Lee encouraged me to finish the course and get moving in my ministry. He often signed my graded papers with "Power to you!" Perhaps he did that with all his students; but for me, it was a special, propelling word of encouragement, a blessing that communicated courage and confidence.
On May 30, 1982, Lee preached the sermon as I was ordained. The texts were from Jeremiah 1:1-4-10 and Philippians 2:1-11. Again, I heard the encouragement, "Do not say, 'I am only a boy'; for you shall go . . . and you shall speak . . . do not be afraid . . . for I am with you . . ., says the LORD." I still hear it!
I have often reflected about Dr. Whiston's journey--a New Englander, ordained in the Congregational Christian Churches, who found his way to the Mid-West and was at home there. In his earlier years, Lee was a close friend of the Rev. H. Gardner "Andy" Andersen, who served in churches in New England, including many years as pastor of the Washington Congregational Church. Andy died earlier this year, and I sent the worship bulletin to Lee in St. Louis. Lee responded with a final note on May 11 in which he reminsced about his old friend. He also said, "It was good to hear from you and find that a Midwesterner can survive in NH." We each, in our own way, had gone to where we were sent.
My world has changed. One who lived with great courage and care for a long, long time is gone now. I cherish the good memories. I am grateful for that wise, enduring counsel and encouragement. Power to you, Lee!
Peace and Power to you!
Lee was the professor who sat on my junior oral exam committee at Eden. He was there as I walked through the deep valley of divorce in 1981-82. He offered me sage counsel when I contemplated delaying the final semester of my senior year because my father had been diagnosed with a brain tumor in November of 1981, and I felt conflicted in my soul. In the midst of my confusion, Lee encouraged me to finish the course and get moving in my ministry. He often signed my graded papers with "Power to you!" Perhaps he did that with all his students; but for me, it was a special, propelling word of encouragement, a blessing that communicated courage and confidence.
On May 30, 1982, Lee preached the sermon as I was ordained. The texts were from Jeremiah 1:1-4-10 and Philippians 2:1-11. Again, I heard the encouragement, "Do not say, 'I am only a boy'; for you shall go . . . and you shall speak . . . do not be afraid . . . for I am with you . . ., says the LORD." I still hear it!
I have often reflected about Dr. Whiston's journey--a New Englander, ordained in the Congregational Christian Churches, who found his way to the Mid-West and was at home there. In his earlier years, Lee was a close friend of the Rev. H. Gardner "Andy" Andersen, who served in churches in New England, including many years as pastor of the Washington Congregational Church. Andy died earlier this year, and I sent the worship bulletin to Lee in St. Louis. Lee responded with a final note on May 11 in which he reminsced about his old friend. He also said, "It was good to hear from you and find that a Midwesterner can survive in NH." We each, in our own way, had gone to where we were sent.
My world has changed. One who lived with great courage and care for a long, long time is gone now. I cherish the good memories. I am grateful for that wise, enduring counsel and encouragement. Power to you, Lee!
Peace and Power to you!
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