My boss wrote a great blog about things the clergy needed to unlearn.  Several people asked him to write the same kind of article for the laity, since we have some things to unlearn too.  He passed on that and asked me to write, from a lay person to a lay person.  So I did. 

 

To all of my fellow laity: We have been highly critical of the clergy for a number of years now.  We have been very vocal about issues with those who serve our local congregations, many valid concerns, and some unrealistic demands.  Though the Church has been slow to respond to the frustration, in recent years there has been a move on the part of the leadership to look at education, pastoral care and the lack of vision that has disconnected the local church from the community.  The lack of discipleship in the local church is reaching critical mass, and the lack of leadership from the clergy is being discussed on every level.

That’s all great news, and important for a move to health and vitality.  It is just half of the picture.  It is time we do our own inventory and look at the things we need to unlearn.  This is my short list:

1.  While our church leaders, Pastor, church staff, are responsible to give vision, direction and guidance, they are not charged with keeping us happy.  We are equally called to service in the Body of Christ, not only to be served.  We are partner in ministry, not consumers.  The staff cannot fulfill their responsibilities in outreach to the community if they are forever holding our hands, listening to our laundry lists of complaints about temperature, sermon topic and new hymns we have never sung before.  It’s time we grow up, take responsibility for our own part of the Kingdom and go to work alongside our church leaders, as we are gifted and called to do.  We were ordained in our baptism after all, not to every role, but to a role.

2.  The church building does not belong to us; it is an asset for ministry.  Our functions are important, and fellowship as believers is essential, but they are not the sole purpose of the building.  Inviting the community to see the building as a great meeting place will connect us with people who would never cross the threshold for a Bible study or a worship service.  Groups who find a home in one of our classrooms may find a home in our church family, particularly if we happen to be in the building when they come and extend hospitality.  We cannot lock the doors during the week in order to keep the building in outstanding condition and the expenses down and think this is a good decision for the life of our church.   It will work for as long as we are here to pay the bills, then one day one of us will be the last one to turn out the light.

3.  Worship on Sunday is not entertainment, and we are not the audience.   Worship is a time for us to gather, hear God’s word, get filled up, and go in the power of the Spirit to change the world.   If you go home and nothing changes, in you or in your world, it’s time to stop and consider where you are disconnecting.    Where there is life, there is growth.  If all of your God stories are from years ago, it might be time to take your spiritual pulse.

4.  There are a lot more of us (laity) than there are of them (clergy).  Why did we ever decide sharing the Gospel was only for the ‘professionals’?   Who has the greatest opportunity to share the love of God with the community?  We do!  What is the best way to share your faith with others?  Live it, all the time, in all of the places you go.  Be the love of God the world is hungry for, offer grace and mercy, be the disciple you would like others to become. In football terminology, most plays work better if the team huddles up, hears the call and plays their position.  We like to huddle up, hear the call and go sit in the stand to see how it goes.  Let’s get on the field, people.

Real change, deep change, begins one person at a time.  We have to do the hard work of moving from consumer to partner, give up rights and pick up our responsibilities, desire that others develop deep relationships with Jesus Christ enough to surrender being the center of the church.  Growing up in grace means we are so secure in our identities as children of God and people of immeasurable worth that we can afford to sacrifice for the sake of others.  What will we get if we choose to be faithful?   I believe we will begin to see the God’s Kingdom come, and God’s will done.  That’s a legacy for our children and grandchildren that will be worth the discomfort change brings.  It’s time brothers and sisters; let’s be the change we are ready to see.

My Father's Daughter

Have you ever noticed that when a holiday occurs, with no real deep memories to trigger reflection, you still end up reflecting?  It's somewhat ridiculous that I can think of no deep meaningful moment my dad and I had on a Father's Day, yet every year when Father's Day rolls around, I think of my dad.

The only Father's Day I have any distinct memory of is the year I left for camp on Father's Day.  My dad drove to my friends home and her incredibly good looking older brother loaded my stuff from one car to the other, and whispered to me in the process "Say happy Father's Day to your dad."  So of course I did, and I don't remember my dad's response at all, but I do remember thinking I would go to the moon and back if this guy suggested I should.  Not really a good father memory.....

My dad was not a warm fuzzy kind of dad.  There were no father/daughter dates though he seemed to like me just fine, particularly when I got married young and moved out of the house.  He was more of a spectator, and occasionally a critic, though not excessively.  Music was his life, always had been, so he didn't really enjoy my musical education from others, and while not personally critical, he was certainly displeased with my instructors.  "Argh!" was a frequent comment on a variety of subjects.  He like his children best when they were off being good somewhere close by but not too close by.

My dad was extremely private and he was not given to share his deep thoughts on many subjects.  If pushed he would respond briefly, uncomfortably, often with another argh!  He never wore shorts, and he never swam.  I don't know why, as in his young years he worked as a life guard and there are pictures where he clearly has legs.  I never did get to know why, though as a persistent little person I asked over and over.  My mother took us to the pool often, and he said she was Esther Williams, and they laughed, but my siblings and I had no idea why that was funny, or who Esther Williams might be.

My dad was fascinated by his Scottish roots, taking us the highland games every year.  The bagpipes when they were all played together always made me cry.  He wore his tartan with pride, and fit right in with all the clan.  I thought I might like to take up Scottish dancing, as it looked fascinating, but there didn't seem to be many Scottish dancing classes close to my home in Pittsburgh.  For his funeral my father requested a bagpipe player in the cemetery.  A friend made the arrangements and there he was, dressed to the nines, standing in the cemetery with the snow blowing past him.  First time I shed tears was listening once again to him play Scotland the Brave and thinking how much my father loved that.  Of course, the second thought was, how did we know they didn't bury my father with his head pointed the wrong way?  Nothing rational about funerals.

My father taught all his life, and he had some brilliant students along the way.  He wasn't great with his hands, he wasn't terribly athletic, and looking at pictures of him now, I realize he wasn't really all that tall.  He was pragmatic, and forward thinking.  He was always moving on, and didn't suffer with the 'what if' syndrome.  He accepted things as they were and he stoically faced most of life challenges.  He had struggles professionally and personally like everyone else, but you would have never known that from the outside. 

The last week we spend together he talked of the major events in his life.  The places he took his choirs that he was proud of, the music that spoke to his heart, the things he found enjoyable.  In the end he found peace with God in the most ordinary of ways when an Episcopalian priest brought him communion, literally the last meal he ever consumed.  He wanted me to know he was peaceful and at home with God because I had badgered him with my desire to know God the way I did all of my adult life.  I badgered God too.  Neither paid the slightest attention to me, but both honored my heart when it mattered.  When I lost my dad, I knew he had gone home to my Father.

Almost 15 years later I have come to some real peace about my Father too.  I realize that though my dad may have missed some key moments in my life, my Father never did.  My dad was a good man, a wounded man doing the best he could with what he had.  My Father is the dad my heart has always hungered for, and of course the Mother too.  That deep need for love, acceptance, belonging, home that I have looked for in every significant relationship in my life, and always felt some disappointment, was always present, possible and just as hungry to have me.  By far the most amazing, miraculous, unbelievable joy in my life was discovering God wanted me as much if not more than I wanted God.  And a billion others, just like me.

So thank you, dad for being who you are and were to me through some roller coaster years.  Thank you God for being the Father I need and hunger for.  Thank you for waiting for me to figure out that when our relationship is right, relationship with others is so much better because I don't need what they can't give.  Happy Father's Day.

Lost

Yes, I admit, long after the craze is over, I have become a Lost junkie.  Far from being hip enough to be on board when it launched in 2004, or even to be in for the close in 2010, I wander into the land of Hulu and started to watch while recovering from pneumonia last month.  Downton Abbey was fabulous but I had finished all those episodes and still had "I don't feel great" time on my hands.  A friend said would enjoy watching Lost, the message was good.  Hmmmmm, I thought.  It sounded like the land I was living in, so Lost it was.

I was pretty sure early on that Lost was not going to be for me.  First, there was a lot of blood.  I don't really care for television that seems to think blood is an essential ingredient.  I think blood, like many bodily fluids, is best kept out of the line of vision.  Then there was all of the shooting.   A lot of shooting.  For an island that seemed to be limited in populations to those who were on the airplane that crashed, they kept shooting one another, yet there were always more people to shoot later.

Then there was some weird science fiction theme that confused me to no end.  Why were those people on the island anyway, and if they could come and go in a submarine, why was it that Jacob said they couldn't leave the island?!  Numbers, buttons, people filling out notebooks no one read, it was all...well, slightly frustrating.  I found myself wondering if the writers were giggling as they wrote saying, telling each other "they will be trying to figure that all all summer"!  It could be that I am a bit of a cynic.

Yet, somehow I was hooked.  I began to think Lost thoughts.  I wondered about what it might mean if we lost some of the structure and boundaries that we perceive help us feel safe, like laws and law enforcers.  I started wondering how civilized we really were under the surface.  I started thinking about the stories of redemption: the crack head kicking his habit and dealing with his issues, the cripple walking and dealing with his father issues, the woman who goes to unbelievable lengths to protect her mother, to have all of that literally blow up in her face.  What if we were given the opportunity work through our accumulation of junk, stored in our mental attics, because we had to?  How would that impact who we were?

Lost somehow got into my interior space and started rabbits all over the place.  It got a little old in the middle, as though Lost was LOST, and then found itself again in the end.  In the end was death of course.  It is not a subject we explore often, no one seems to be excited about talking about death.  Its the constant we can all depend on but even our hero Jack had a hard time coming to grip with his death.  Death is somehow the ultimate failure in our culture.  But Lost does this remarkable thing.  In the middle of a Catholic Church, Lost makes death a journey into light.  I liked the end.  I liked the light,  the love, and the reunion.  I liked to see the redemption complete.  I liked that in death there is no 'now',  that's a nice thought.  I liked the tenderness, the radical hospitality that accepts people as they are and lets them find their own way.  It was really satisfying.

But all of that is beside the point.  This is not a nice show for Christians to debate the meaning of life/death and resurrections.  For the most part, this was a show for those who don't even consciously know they are discussing such topics.  It was wild fantasy, science fiction, violent, thought provoking, romantic, crazy interpersonal relationships, with a polar bear or two thrown in for fun.  It was good versus evil, but it was hard to figure out who was good, and it was dealing with our issues and letting go, and it was belonging.  No one was trying to talk about God, but God was everywhere!  Isn't that amazing? 

Everytime I start thinking how important I am, or the Church is, I discover yet again that God is showing up in the wildest places, without any help from me.   I don't mean at all that God doesn't ask all of us to participate in this amazing grace, but it isn't our shoulders that need to bear the enormous weight.  God has this covered!  David Breen said, in a workshop about discipling communities, we are not supposed to be worrying about inovation as much as incarnation.  How do we find where God is at work and join?

I missed the boat on Lost.  I can't help but wonder if I had been following this years ago what conversations might have started.  I feel sure someone was listening better, and used the show as a spring board to talk about what redemption is, what light is, how God helps all of us reconcile our issues by providing us an advocate and a way home.  I wish it had been me, but its not too late.  I might need to be watching where God is working today.  Jump on that boat and see where the Spirit lead. 

Lost sums it up well,  Grace does too!  Tomorrow is a new day, and a new opportunity to watch, go, and connect with God.  I intend to be ready.

Its the most wonderful time.....

Ebenezer Scrooge just stopped by my office and bah humbugged her way down the hall.  She hasn't put up a Christmas tree in so long that when she decided to give her Christmas tree away to the church, she had no idea where she had stored it.  She used to be part of an ornament exchange but there was no point really, she never even took them home. This is not her most favorite time of the year.

Then there is the Elf on the Shelf woman down the hall.  She loves to jump out of bed and whip up a batch of Christmas cookies, run to the local community parade, then stop in at the Christmas party, and shop online to the wee small hours of the day.  She has been humming Christmas carols, thinking up amazing things for her elf to do to entertain the children, and sending out her Christmas cards which she got the week of Thanksgiving because she didn't want to get behind.  This is most definitely her favorite part time of the year.

I am at neither extreme, though I like this time of the year.  I am too busy to decorate as I once did, and the magic of the magic isn't really happening as it once did.  I do put up my tree and I like the opportunities that come along to be with family and friends for the holiday, but the frantic rush isn't appealing at all any more.

I blame this all on the Advent Conspiracy people and Michael Slaughter.  Once they forced me to deal with the strange way I was celebrating the coming of my Savior, they have left me with no traditions that fit any more.  I cannot go so far as to say I am sorry they have opened my eyes, but I do say that there has been a crisis of sorts created by the zeal to reclaim Christmas from consumerism. 

In this new place, everything seems to be optional and I find myself holding up various things saying, does this still fit?  Is it right to hang up all these wreaths when there are people who need water in the Sudan?  Is it good to make cookies to share, when I could be hardening arteries and pushing over-eaters to the edge?  Is it good to buy people gifts that they want....if its all about sacrifice and suffering?  What does one do now after one opens the very few, non-frilly, socially acceptable gifts, that used to take hours but now only 10 minutes.  After all, we have tried and it is just really hard to sit around talking about the ills and injustice of the world, and still feel that joy has come.

Let me be clear, I am all for reclaiming Christmas.  I am all for being sacrificial and sharing what I have with all who need.  I just want a little of the party to be seen as sacred too.  I want to send money to people in need, and I want to buy things for people I love, who will love receiving.  I want to feel the awe and wonder that  fills my heart on Christmas Eve, remembering once again the overwhelming love of God represented in this baby.  I want to look at the children around me, and wonder how God will be using these precious creatures to bring in the Kingdom.  Surely there is balance in all of this?

Maybe there isn't.  Maybe the non compliant part of me is resenting the call to grow up to the meat of life as a disciple moving on toward perfection and holiness of heart and life.  Perhaps there is still a little girl inside that doesn't want this to be about being poured out for the sake others.  Maybe I am still happier with being the center of my reality rather than surrender this place to the Author of my reality anyway.

It is still the most wonderful time, but perhaps it is about time that I give all that I am, all that I have, all that I dream into the hands of the Lord of my life.  Wonder how that might be? 

Tearing down the facade.

Yesterday, there I was minding my own business.  I was working hard for the money, bringing in the Kingdom, practicing the life of a faithful disciple, when boom!  Out of nowhere a demon possessed me and I found myself having a nuclear melt down with one of those people who holds a piece of my heart.  If you think I was stunned, you should have seen the reponse from my precious friend.

Here is the scary thing, this isn't the only time a demon has taken possession of my faculties and turn me from supergirl into lavagirl.  I wish it were not so, but I have to confess that the truth of the matter is that I do not release frustration and anger wisely at times.  I think I am surrendering these things, talking to God, trusting that all things are working to good.  It is certainly my plan anyway, and I am working round the clock to practice these spiritual disciplines more consistently.  Yet, when a number of unresolved issues begin to stick to each other, growing into an ever growing stack, I have notice that when people I love get too close to a heart button, the whole thing blows sky high.

I would like this not to go on being a problem.  I am quite used to apologizing, as in the natural course of any typical day I will have bobbed when I should have weaved, or zigged when I should have zagged.  I am even okay with strong emotions, as I find people of passion and energy are a joy to be with and get a lot of good stuff done.  I am even okay with having some touchy places in my heart, as it reminds me that I am completely dependent on God for healing, hope, and wholeness.  The part I would like to go away is the part when I pretend I am not hurting over the accumulation of unresolved 'opportunities'. 

If I could just say to people, "I am sorry, I am a bit on edge because my bucket is currently weighed down with the man who told me a delightful story that has no basis in truth, the lady who is teaching Bible study and tearing down my character in the same breath, the unknown outcome of projects near and dear to my being, and the nagging voice of my GPS Samantha, who never lets me forget that when she told me to turn left, I turned right", I think I would not have these volcanic eruptions.  It's all the pretending that I have it all together that is wearing me out.

Tonight I passed a friend in the hall and asked how he was doing.  He replied his typical response, no sense in complaining, and no one is listening anyway.  We think it's funny and we both laugh, but we are wrong.  It isn't funny, but it's very true.  No one wants to know what is going on inside our heads, or banging around in our hearts, they just want us to wear the facade, smile and reply "I am fine thank you, and you?"  We want that too, because after all it is the desire of our hearts to be fine, thank you.  I wish I always was, only I am only pretending sometimes.

I don't think I am the only one pretending, as I have some fairly volcanic friends from time to time.  I really believe it is not the stuff we have that is making us erupt, it is all the pretending.  If I could just respond to sincere inquiries about the status of my soul, I suspect I wouldn't be lavagirl any more.   Yes, I confess I might become whineygirl, or Mrs. NoFriends, but I wonder what life without the fake grin might be like. 

I think God likes me when I am frustrated.  I think He feels good about me saying, you know, this is not making me at all happy.  I even think when I say, "This too shall pass, and NOW would be very good" I am a beloved daughter, infinite in value and worth because they are freely given based on God's character and not my own.  If truly nothing separates us from the live of God in Christ Jesus as Paul wrote and the Church has embraced for 2000 years, then I want to stop pretending I don't have stuff.  I want to keep my hands open, and let God take my stuff as He often does, but I don't want to try to hide it under the 'mini me' that has this unbelievably bad way of making me nuclear. 

St. Paul says that now we see through the mirror dimly, then we shall see face to face.  I bet what we see one day is just the real us, made perfect through Jesus, being made holy.  Won't that be a fashion show!

Messy, Messy, Messy 2

I am tired of messy.   I am tired of mail that comes, and stays though no one will ever open it, or gain one insight from the hard work someone put in to develop, edit copy fold and stuff these documents.  This mail is placed carefully into a stack along with wedding invitations, or baby announcements, and catalogues, and the occasional newspaper until a new stack must be started.  One day, when my inability to endure it anymore meets a hole in the schedule, I will go through the stack, shaking my head over RSVPs that didn't get sent, baby gifts that are late, deep confusion over why I thought any of the rest was even stack worthy.

I  am really out of patience with people, and opinions, and those who clamor on about that which they admit they have no personal knowledge.  I am frustrated by the people who share opinions in vacuums, and even more irritated with people who re-share the opinions of people who have no real right to even hold an opinion in the first place.  I am desperately close to a full scale temper tantrum, in fact.  This is a different kind of stack and it needs sorting no less than the one of accumulated mail.

I remind my self that life is messy.  Faith is messy.  People are really messy.  There is no way to stay clean and be connected, and without connection there is no way to be the Body of Christ.  Darn it.

 I know what the organizer people say.  They say we should have one touch mail, and it stays or goes the moment we touch it.  This works by the way, if you happen to look at your mail every day.  If you are like me, this sometimes doesn't happen until the stack is threatening the neighborhood and a formal complaint has been made about you to the clutter police.  

I know what they say about people too.  We are supposed to remember everyone is a child of God, recognize that most of our annoyance is based on us not others, that we need to release all of that in Sabbath rest and start with a clean slate often.  Yes to all of that, it is all true.  But just as with the mail, often we don't realize we are hording emotions until, quite unsuspectingly, our heads spin around and pea soup come spewing forth. 

I think the bottom line for me is that means of grace are important, just like organizational systems are, but nothing will keep the world a neat and tidy place all of the time.  I need to journal more often, it is incredibly helpful in working out my thoughts on something.  Journaling more often wont keep me from being confused at times.  I need to go through the mail with more determination, but sometimes, in the midst of crazy weeks, the mail is going to stack up and there is going to be a pile.  All of those cards I bought, to let people know I was thinking of them, will not expire if my good intentions lead me to thinking more than sending.   I did think of them when I bought the card after all.  Is it essential they know that I was thinking of them this week?

It's just messy.  I will clean it up today, and tomorrow and a little more the next day.  Before you know it, there will be an attitude I failed to release, in fact I rolled up into it and got really comfortable.  There will be an RSVP that went unrsvped.   There will be an opinion that has no business being shared that will stumble into my line of vision, and I will have to stop and remind myself that I am not the opinion police. While everyone should be sitting around wondering what I think, very few are.  There will be no secret formula that makes it all neat and tidy all the time.  People who are have different issues altogether...just sayin.

So, good thing there is grace.  Grace is greater than all that messiness.  Grace is even greater than my need for order, and cleanliness, and good behavior.  Grace is even enough for me when a temper tantrum is right around the bend, and I have too many opinions of everyones opinion.  Jesus made it possible, the Spirit gives the ability, and the Father makes messy good.  Therein lies peace.  Good thing.

Passing on the mantle

I am not growing older.  I chose a number of years ago to stop having birthdays and elected to instead celebrate the anniversary of a birthday I enjoyed.  I stayed with 30 for sometime, then after enough time had gone by, I moved on to 35.  I think that this season recently expired and I am currently enjoying the celebration of birthday 39.  Amazing how many woman at my church are also celebrating the anniversary of their 39th birthday.  It must be a really fun year!

As anti aging as I am, I will begrudgingly admit that I have recently had the opportunity to watch someone who aged gracefully, lead beautifully, and retired again not in defeat or weakness, but with a sense of satisfaction and completion.   A year ago we were told we would have the leadership of a retired bishop for a one year interim until the next election.  There were opinions from the cheap seats in abundance.  This would be a lame duck year, nothing would be accomplished.  It would be one of the retired bishop that currently reside in our Conference and it would be awful.  It would be a wasted year.  HA!

One thing about the cheap seats, once their predictions are proven wrong, they are quick to disassociate themselves from all the others.  Who ever those others are.  Our retired bishop rode into town with all of the wisdom a long tenure in ministry ought to have conveyed.  We went from lame duck to visionary leader, and in just a few months change was already happening.  There were changes in leadership, vision, and purpose.  There was a quiet authority that listened well, decided firmly.  In one short year direction was begun that can be built upon for a hope and a future.  All this from a retired guy. 

A retired guy is still adding to the foundations for those who will follow.  In ten years from now we may not remember that this retired guy opened the door for health and vitality.  Who knows where we will be in twenty years, but if we are growing and making disciples and actively furthering the Kingdom of God, this guy will have been the catalyst that helped that happen.

 Legacy is a concept that has been overdone by the financial folks who want me to save all money for the next generation, when clearly the next generation should just go out and earn their own.  But legacy is not a gimmick, it is a means of grace for every single generation that follows.  As I type today I know I do so because there are women and men that have gone before me.  Good, bad, and the messy mix of both have helped to form and shape the way I think, the opportunities I have, my understanding of God, my understanding of worth, my perceptions of the world.  People I know, people I have only read about, people who influenced people who influenced me.  Legacy is the gift of aging, the mantle a means of grace. 

So, I am going to have to make room for that in my vision of life.  I may have to allow a few more year to pass under the anniversary radar to embrace that even I have the opportunity to contribute to the legacy for generations who will never even know I lived.  This is the power of the pond, ripples that move out from places no one remembers, and still impact life in the pool.  They don't happen when we are attempting to freeze time and miss the opportunity to make a splash.

What an awesome opportunity!  How could I miss this gift?!  Easily, who wants to be old?  Not me, that's for sure!  I can joyfully embrace the blessing of being a blessing though, of God using me in some small,  perhaps comic way, to share His love with the world.  I think that would make the wrinkles worthwhile.  But not the grey hair....good thing we can fix that.