Can This Church Live?

"Many contemporary congregations (particularly in the old-line denominations) are declining because they do not have a distinctive sense of Christian identity and mission or a sufficient flow of spiritual energy."  This critique is offered by Ronald Allen in the Foreword of God in Pain: Teaching Sermons on Suffering by Barbara Brown Taylor (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1998).  We have lost our identity, forgotten our mission, and become spiritually dead organizations.  Heavy stuff!

My ministry takes me to some wonderfully vibrant congregations, where there is a deep commitment to following Jesus' call and command.  The members are disciples, who know--ultimately and always--that the church belongs to Jesus Christ.  It does not belong to some prominent lay member or to a spiritual leader, pastor or preacher; but it belongs to Jesus Christ.  The congregation is not mine or ours; but rather, it is always Christ's body, visible and broken, in the midst of the world.

Those congregations that are most alive are able to see beyond themselves and their own needs and anxieties, to see the world.  They have a mission; they exist for mission--to bring healing, hope, and life to their communities and, indeed, to the whole world.  Many times I will ask the leaders of a conflicted church to talk about what they hear to be their Gospel mandate:  Why are you here?  What's the point and purpose or your existence?  What are you passionate about?  Those are centering questions for Christian identity and mission.

The decline in the mission support that flows to and through denominations is a symptom of spiritual disease.  When we no longer understand our covenant connections as life-giving relationships with others.  We are adrift and alone.  We say to our partners in mission, "I have no need of you."  When we can no longer imagine changing the world, welcoming the strangers, feeding and sheltering the hungry, standing up for those who are being pushed down--we are as good as dead. 

Being a church is not about maintaining the shrine and preserving our antiquated heritage.  I once served a congregation that was surrounded by its cemetery.  Right outside the sanctuary--just feet from the windows and doors--were the graves of the saints, who were long dead and gone.  It was hard in that context to think about living when there was so much focus on heritage and history . . . and death.  The guests who would return for the annual Memorial Day service were surprised that the little congregation persisted, their focus was on hallowing the memory of ancestors and preserving the weathered stones.

It is in preaching and worship that the Spirit energizes us and reminds us of our Christian identity and mission.  Yesterday, I worshipped with Maranatha Indonesian United Church of Christ.  Most of the service was in the Indonesian language, which I do not understand.  Yet, I felt the power of Christ's life there.  I sensed that this small congregation, facing into the imminent deportation of some its members and friends, is still Christ's church.  It is alive and vital.  It is connected in covenant.  These disciples know their mission and are generous in the midst of their adversity.  They are a fellowship together in and after worship.  Would that our old-line churches had such spirit!

I am grateful to God for glimpses of vitality.  May the ministry we share help the church to live.  May they all be one, and may the dead live again.

Postponing Life

As I write this morning, I am surrounded by papers that beckon for my attention.  There are calls to return, emails that seek some response, crises of various degree that would claim my undivided attention.  All are important, few are urgent. 

As I write, I also behold the beauty.  From outside bright sunshine streams through the window panes, glistening snow, and forest shadow patterns.  Inside are those who share ministry with me in the New Hampshire Conference.  All are busy at their stations, engaged in their labors.  Beautiful, committed folks who care about the church.  I am grateful to God!

And yet, I must confess.  The stacks of papers, the calls, and the emails all give shape--perhaps too much shape to my life.  They are my routine.  They become my focus.  They become my obsession, my purpose, and my future. 

How often we postpone life because some project or problem seems more immediate today.  The hours evaporate.  Days fly fast away.  The years disappear . . . gone.  I find myself in tune with the author of Ecclesiastes:  "I have seen everything that is done under the sun; and behold, all is vanity and a striving after wind."  Sometimes it is tempting to put off life until . . .

until the kids are grown and mature,

until life is more settled,

until the the market finally recovers,

until I have more leisure time, . . .

until.

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of worshipping with the congregation at South Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, in Concord.  It was the church's 175th anniversary celebration--a day of re-dedication.  That congregation did not become the community of ministry and mission that it is today by postponing life until some time down the road--when discipleship would be easier and life would be simpler.  It did not delay sharing its bread and shelter with the community around it.  Experiencing God's life--welcoming the stranger and the outcast as Jesus' friends--was not left for some future time.  As I remember yesterday, I find a faithful witness that restores my hope today.

So, here is my resolution amid this reflection:  I will live this day to the full, glorifying and praising God, loving my neighbors, and resting in the sure and certain hope of resurrection and new life.  God is in this moment, and God will be in whatever the future brings. 

Engaging Worship

I am enjoying the read provided by Paul H. Sadler, Sr., in his new book, 52 Ways to Ignite Your Congregation . . . Worship.  At one point, early on in the book, Sadler comments, "Far too many pastors are afraid to take the risks necessary to enable their congregations to experience true worship.  Fear is the enemy of the church.  Where there is fear, the church cannot prosper and the people of God cannot grow.  In worship, fear translates into a concern for what others will think of how we worship and into settling for playing it safe with the familiar, rather than launching out into the deep, where real, rich,and profound worship of God can occur."

In some ways that feels like a heavy charge to level at pastors, accusing them of being timid and safe when it comes to worship.  I think of the nearly twenty-five years I spent regularly shaping the liturgy in the three churches where I served as pastor and teacher.  I loved the routine of the liturgy.  The order of service provided a measure of stability and security.  We knew what to expect whenever we gathered.  I also was prone to select the favorite hymns that had nurtured the congregation of my youth.  Most seemed to appreciate them, too.

I can still hear the heated liturgical arguments--whether passing the peace was a disruption to the flow and formality of the service.  Some did not like that.  I recall a response that I encouraged the choir to sing after the reading of the scripture lessons.  The choir balked.  They did not like that.  There was also the big issue of whether children should be allowed to partake of Communion since they had not yet been confirmed.  That was an emotionally-charged debate within the congregation.  And then, there is always the issue of time.  How long should a service be?  The normative answer always: just one hour--60 minutes max.  We have other things to do on Sunday than be in church.

It is easy to reduce the risks and travel the well-worn path week after week.  It is easier to sing the favorite hymns over and over, rather than expanding the repertoire.  I am still tempted toward sentimentality in the sanctuary, looking back rather than looking forward.  For sure, worship is about God.  True worship is focused in actively glorifying and praising God.  It is bending the knee, opening our souls, singing for joy to the One who gives us life.

O sing to God a new song!  It is a new day.  May we greet God with new songs of praise.  It is not about ritual but about the reality of God's presence.  It's about God!




  

The Case of Francesco Schettino

I have never sailed on a cruise ship, but I recall seeing one boarding in Tampa last July while we were there for General Synod 28.  That vessel was huge with a water park on the top deck.  It looked so secure and safe.  What a safe place to take a family vacation and escape, for a time, from the perils of life!  What could possibly go wrong?

Late Friday, we got the news that the Costa Concordia had run aground off the coast of Italy. There were some 4,200 passengers on board.  Miraculously most were able to escape, but some did not.  A carefree vacation on a huge--seemingly invincible ship--suddenly turned tragic.

I wonder what might have caused Captain Francesco Schettino to steer his great ship so close to those treacherous rocks, allowing them to rip a 160-foot hole in his ship and putting his passengers in great peril?  And, if what is alledged is really true, what motivated the captain to abandon ship before those in his charge were in lifeboats and secure?  This is a sad story of a failure of leadership on so many levels.  Certainly, more will be told as the story unfolds in the days and weeks to come.

This tragedy--this failure of leadership--stands in sharp contrast to the story of Captain Chelsey "Sully" Sullenberger who landed his crippled US Airways plane on the Hudson River on January 15, 2009.  The story is told of Sullenberger making his way down the plane's aisle and back to make ensure all his passengers were safely off the plane before he exited to wait with them on the plane's wing to be rescued.

This also makes me think about church leadership and the responsibility that rests with those of us who are called to give leadership and to care for Christ's church.  It is no coincidence, I think, that the church has often been depicted as a boat.  Those called to positions of leadership have a duty to care for the others who sail on the ship with them.  There is a need for pastors and teachers to set a course that is faithful to the Gospel. There is a need to understand one's congregants and to treat them with due respect and compassion.  Faithful leadership requires a willingness to sacrifice self for the sake of  our sisters and brothers, and for all others for whom Christ died.  Denominational leadership, too, is about putting one's life on the line--especially for the vulnerable and poor--who share the journey with us.   Pastoral leadership is a sacred responsibility that carries an implicit vow not to abandon one's charges in the face of trouble and even death.

I think tonight of Jesus, who was no stranger to storms and troubled seas. He still promises never to leave us desolate, orphaned and alone.  Rather, he promises to come, to seek us out, to share the trouble with us, and to raise us up to new life.  "Help of the helpless, O abide with me!" 

I am grateful to be on his boat. 
May his example inform and inspire my leadership.

"May You Alway Have Light"

Arise, shine; for your light has come,
and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.
--Isaiah 60:1 (NRSV)

On June 6, 1993, I was in California, Missouri for a candidating sermon.  At the early worship at Salem United Church of Christ, the sky grew increasingly dark. Ominous clouds tinted green, began to appear on the horizon.  As we drove the five miles through the countryside back to the town of California, huge droplets started to smash into the windshield.  When we arrived at the United Church of Christ of California for the service a few minutes later, the rain was like a waterfall.  We were soaked by the time we arrived inside.

Once inside, it was apparent that this was no ordinary summer Sunday.  People were literally sweeping water that had surged into the fellowship hall on the first floor.  There was a line of members each pushing the water forward to the next with soggy brooms.  The power had gone off throughout the community by this time.  I remember meeting Mary, an eighty-year old with a walker who was being helped up the stairs to the sanctuary.  The sanctuary was dimly lit with candles that had been collected throughout the building.  The pipe organ sat silent.  The PA system was gone.  The front doors were propped open, and the sounds of vehicles, sloshing through the waters,echoed through the sanctuary throughout the service.  It was a strange, holy time.

And there was a simple act of kindness toward the visiting minister.  Lou, a member of the Search Committee, provided me with a plastic flashlight so that I could see to read the scripture and my sermon notes.  Later, after I arrived to begin my ministry, she presented me with the same flashlight.  This time it had an engraved band around it that read, "May you always have light." 

I think about that flashlight in this Epiphany time--and especially, I ponder the blessing that Lou provided--a blessing for a lifetime.  "May you always have light."  It is the blessing of Epiphany this holy season of light--God's light for the world.  A star that shines brightly in the night sky.  Jesus, the Light of the world, who bestows that same title on his church.

In the midst of dark and confusing days in Christ's ministry, when we but dimly see, but still fervently hope:  May you always have light.

In moments of despair about the condition of our country and the misdirected priorities of those elected to govern, May you always have light.  (And may you always have the courage to stand up and speak out.)

In the face of desperate cries of the poor and broken ones and the silences of those who have lost their voice and their inability to speak up for themselves, "May you always have light."

May you always have light! 
I am grateful to Lou for the blessing in my journey. 
I am grateful to God who makes it so!

In for the Long Haul

The word that has startled me this Christmas is "longsuffering."  That seems a strange word to emerge in my spirit in the holy time.  This old-fashioned word is often translated "patience" in more contemporary translations of the scriptures, but today I return to the King James Version.  The literalness of long-suffering  speaks to me.  Just imagine, long . . . . . . . . . . suffering.

The word is found in familiar self-revelation of God in the Hebrew texts,  "The Lord, The Lord God, merciful and gracious, longsuffering, and abundant in goodness and truth" (Ex. 34:6, KJV).  The longsuffering of God lies at the heart of healing, forgiveness, and salvation.  God's nature is to suffer long in order to change lives and change the world.

It is no coincidence that we are also called to be a longsuffering people, reflecting the character of the God we serve.  In Galatians 5:22-23, longsuffering is listed as a fruit of the Spirit:  "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law" (Gal. 5:22-23, KJV).  And in Ephesians, the author challenges us with these words, "I therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called, with all lowliness and meekness, with longsuffering, forbearing one another in love; endeavouring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace" (Eph. 4:1-3, KJV).  The church is called to suffer long in faith, hope, and love.
Consider the traditions of the church.  A four-week Advent replaces the longing of God's people through many generations.  Advent is such a brief one-month pregnant time.  Is that really sufficient preparation for the birth of God's holy child?  I realize that Advent entered the church's liturgical calendar rather late . . . but only four weeks?  How does this reflect the longsuffering of God and God's people?

Today (December 26), many are already weary with the Christmas decorations.  Festive lights will soon be turned off.  Many Christmas trees will be recycled by the end of the week; few will remain until Epiphany.  Christmas becomes a single, overloaded day, rather than a holy season in which God comes to share our flesh and our sufferings.  How do our customs reflect the longsuffering of God and God's hope for the church?

There are implications for daily living, too.  If I cannot master some subject, a new language, a musical instrument instantly and effortlessly, I am quick to give up, give out, and give in.  If I cannot drop my excess weight without weeks of disciplined exercise and careful dietary choices, I soon give up, give out, and give in.  If I cannot see an immediate change in the lives of those with whom I serve and the church where I have been called to minister, I am tempted to rush to a new call.  Raising our children, caring for aging parents, serving Christ in the world all require a longsuffering that reflects the very nature of our God.

My Christmas season prayer:  Eternity's God, patient in suffering and in hope, grant me a long-haul faith, so that I never give up on you.  Fill me with your longsuffering love.  Even if I do not see the fulfillment for which I seek, let me not lose heart,  May your longsuffering Spirit sustain me.  May your Holy Child be born to bring new light and enduring peace in your good time.  Amen.

I Remember Christmas

When I served as pastor and teacher of the church at Old Monroe, Missouri, Wilbert would walk from his lake home to worship on Christmas Eve.  Although he had become a member of the Roman Catholic Church sometime after his confirmation, he always came home for Christmas Eve.  His holy pilgrimage was made through snow, ice, and mud.  I recall the year that he fell among the bramble bushes and arrived at the candlelight service a bit tattered from the thorns. 

Years later, I would walk from our country home down the half mile lane to the highway and walk to the 11:00 PM service at Salem United Church of Christ.  After midnight, when the service ended and all the congregants had gone home, I would walk, lantern in hand, back home.  Those were deeply spiritual times with the winter winds quickening my spirit and the moonlight falling across the glistening snow.  Wilbert was my inspiration.  His discipline taught me discipline.  His Christmas pilgrimage informed mine.

I have not yet discovered a new place to walk on Christmas Eve.  Since 2006, I have been adrift, often in transition as Christmas comes, traveling from New Hampshire to Missouri or Florida.  It is a strange rhythm being so far from home on Christmas--too far to walk to the communion table and candlelight worship.

And even so, Christmas comes to me, to us, to a conflicted and confused world.  The Nativity is near.  God always finds a way to be near and to create a home where I may dwell.  The Child is born.  God's peace is here,  Alleluia!