I went a little crazy at Walmart tonight.
I hate Walmart. I go there as little as possible. But I needed toilet paper and my facial cleanser stuff that I can't get anywhere else around here. On my way to the paper goods aisle, I noticed that the yarn section had been moved, and of course I needed to check it out, as I have not been daunted in my knitting. En route to the new and improved yarn aisle, I passed some lovely baskets, and thought, "Those would look so much better on the shelves in my bathroom than the massive cluttered mess that's there now!"
I should interject here an explanation of the bathroom situation. It is, not to put too fine a point on it, ugly. The tub, toilet, sink, and counter are all blue - four different shades of blue. I painted the walls white in a quest to be tasteful, but really, it's just depressing. So tonight, as I wandered away with baskets, I also stopped by the bathroom decor section (you see where this is going, right?) and found a delightfully tacky tropical fish shower curtain and wall border ON CLEARANCE, and containing ALL FOUR shades of blue. And then some.
Since I was on a roll, I finished off the bathroom with some blazing yellow towels. Oh, and new bedding for the guest room, although that may wait a while to make its appearance, since Laila will have to be evicted when it does.
Midway through the retail insanity, I wondered what the heck I was doing. Which is when I realized that I've lived here almost a year, and have not really made this house my home yet. I have piles of stuff and unpacked boxes and unfinished rooms...all of which make me hesitant to have guests...which in turn make it hard for me to feel like I have real friends here, because I really like being able to have people over for dinner and such. Hosting is, for me, part of being a friend.
So, I now have an aquarium as a bathroom. It's bright and cheery and clean, and it's a step in the right direction. One room at a time, one life lesson at a time.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Preaching as Spectator Sport
Some Sundays, I step out of the pulpit and wonder for the rest of the day, "What in the world did I just say?" I can bring to mind bits and pieces; most of what I remember from today is a) referring to Peter as the patron saint of speak now, regret later, and b) waving my arms around and saying, "Woo-hoo, is anyone awake out there?" I had just asked a question - goodness only knows what - that was met with a marked lack of reaction. Now, we're a fairly sedate church, and I suppose it's not considered "decent and in order" to respond verbally without a written line in the bulletin instructing you to do so. But when I can't even evoke a few head-nods without flailing about, I start to wonder whether I'm doing something wrong.
I don't really think I'm doing something wrong, although preaching is something I'm constantly trying to improve. What I really think is that preaching can create a distance between the speaker and the listener that quickly causes it to slide into the same category as spectator sports or reality television. Of course, I've done my share of shouting at hockey games, and I've been known to throw things at the television on occasion. But on the whole, I expect to be a passive observer.
I suspect that most people who come to our church expect to watch and listen during most of the service. Their expectation is reasonable, honestly. We're a tradition that values the calm, cool, collected sort of worship. I would be alarmed if people started giving verbal feedback while I was preaching. I'm probably never going to shout, "Can I get an amen!!" But, once in a while, it would be nice to get a good, firm nod.
I don't really think I'm doing something wrong, although preaching is something I'm constantly trying to improve. What I really think is that preaching can create a distance between the speaker and the listener that quickly causes it to slide into the same category as spectator sports or reality television. Of course, I've done my share of shouting at hockey games, and I've been known to throw things at the television on occasion. But on the whole, I expect to be a passive observer.
I suspect that most people who come to our church expect to watch and listen during most of the service. Their expectation is reasonable, honestly. We're a tradition that values the calm, cool, collected sort of worship. I would be alarmed if people started giving verbal feedback while I was preaching. I'm probably never going to shout, "Can I get an amen!!" But, once in a while, it would be nice to get a good, firm nod.
Friday, February 24, 2006
My Blog is One
As I was reviewing drafts today, looking through the many posts I never finished - and those deemed unfit for public consumption - I realized that today is my blog's birthday. Yes, today this blog is one year old. Happy blog-birthday to me!
Not long ago, Meg celebrated her bl-irthday with introductions and noisemakers. Quite honestly, I'm too tired and sick and harried today to party, even virtually, so my celebration is a bit more subdued. In honor of my bl-irthday, I have had my car repaired and made appointments with a doctor and a counselor, and am now watching the Russia vs. Finland Olympic hockey game and writing my final, extremely delinquent Ordinary Time devotional.
On a related note, I often wonder about the mind-body health connection, and this week it's been on my mind even more than usual. I've been physically sick, which I've already said here multiple times. Along with the general crappiness of my body, however, has come a combination of deep depression and severe anxiety. I've felt paralyzed, not only because only a small amount of activity leaves me achy, weary, and light-headed, but also because all of my feelings of being overwhelmed and lonely have intensified. The cause-and-effect relationship here is a little murky to me, but I know it's there. My illnesses are feeding from one another, and therefore they just keep spiraling downward.
The fact is that I don't really know what's wrong with me. I know that stress exacerbates all of my physical symptoms. I know that my body has a tendency to crash when things are going wrong in other areas of my life. I know that I feel like a big, lazy whiner when my focus turns as inward as it has in the last week. I know that I feel guilty for being sick, and then irritated at myself for feeling guilty about taking time for myself, and then worried about what certain people will think if I take time off to recover from illness, and that this cycle builds additional stress that makes me worse even if I do take the time off.
Anyway, doctor and counselor shall be visited next week. I'm a little skeptical about how much they will help, but I must do something.
Not long ago, Meg celebrated her bl-irthday with introductions and noisemakers. Quite honestly, I'm too tired and sick and harried today to party, even virtually, so my celebration is a bit more subdued. In honor of my bl-irthday, I have had my car repaired and made appointments with a doctor and a counselor, and am now watching the Russia vs. Finland Olympic hockey game and writing my final, extremely delinquent Ordinary Time devotional.
On a related note, I often wonder about the mind-body health connection, and this week it's been on my mind even more than usual. I've been physically sick, which I've already said here multiple times. Along with the general crappiness of my body, however, has come a combination of deep depression and severe anxiety. I've felt paralyzed, not only because only a small amount of activity leaves me achy, weary, and light-headed, but also because all of my feelings of being overwhelmed and lonely have intensified. The cause-and-effect relationship here is a little murky to me, but I know it's there. My illnesses are feeding from one another, and therefore they just keep spiraling downward.
The fact is that I don't really know what's wrong with me. I know that stress exacerbates all of my physical symptoms. I know that my body has a tendency to crash when things are going wrong in other areas of my life. I know that I feel like a big, lazy whiner when my focus turns as inward as it has in the last week. I know that I feel guilty for being sick, and then irritated at myself for feeling guilty about taking time for myself, and then worried about what certain people will think if I take time off to recover from illness, and that this cycle builds additional stress that makes me worse even if I do take the time off.
Anyway, doctor and counselor shall be visited next week. I'm a little skeptical about how much they will help, but I must do something.
Dive
When I was young, I dreamed of diving
Repeated flailing flops instead; gave up -
I am not made for head-first descents
...or so I thought
Now, as I watch myself in a freefall,
how easily I speed headlong to the ground
I think
perhaps
after all, I was made to dive
Repeated flailing flops instead; gave up -
I am not made for head-first descents
...or so I thought
Now, as I watch myself in a freefall,
how easily I speed headlong to the ground
I think
perhaps
after all, I was made to dive
A Little Humility, Please
We have gotten ourselves into quite the connundrum. Somehow, the Church has been split into sides, and we can't seem to stop fighting each other. Some people seem to know what we're fighting about; they call it "purity" and "biblical truth," or "inclusion" and "love." I'm not so sure anymore. It seems to me that we're fighting over what people usually fight over, regardless of the issue: who gets to be right. And even more than that, who gets to force everyone else to go along with them.
The thing about these sides is, they keep us from actually talking, not only to the "other side," but even to those within "our side." They keep us firmly entrenched exactly where we are. Progress, change, and even exploration is the fastest way to get yourself firmly rejected from either side.
I'm trying to be honest in all of this. I'm trying to be honest about Scripture - all of it as a whole, not just isolated proof-texts - and about my experience of life, which is the only lens I have.
But somehow, I've ended up in a damned if I do, damned if I don't situation. Even writing this blog post is bound to be a massive tactical error.
The thing about these sides is, they keep us from actually talking, not only to the "other side," but even to those within "our side." They keep us firmly entrenched exactly where we are. Progress, change, and even exploration is the fastest way to get yourself firmly rejected from either side.
I'm trying to be honest in all of this. I'm trying to be honest about Scripture - all of it as a whole, not just isolated proof-texts - and about my experience of life, which is the only lens I have.
But somehow, I've ended up in a damned if I do, damned if I don't situation. Even writing this blog post is bound to be a massive tactical error.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
A Regional Assignment Day Zoom Song
Llama, llama, duck, wrinkled old cooters rejoice!
Today is the day they'll make their choice:
All the regions' bishops gathered round in a room,
Causing nerd anxiety (that's why he gets a zoom).
He's listed his preferences, his future's in their hands,
Now he waits to hear, will it be near or distant lands?
His nails are chewed to bits, his paperpaks are growing wet,
The countdown's almost ended but it isn't over yet.
A church needs a pastor, a pastor needs a church,
A nerd needs to know now, don't leave him in a lurch!
At 4pm in Central Time it all will become clear.
So sit back, nerd, try to relax, and have yourself a beer!
Cheers to Church Ruth Nerd, who's getting his regional assignment today. May the bishops be kind, the candidating be swift, and the church utterly unprepared for the havoc about to be wreaked upon them.
Today is the day they'll make their choice:
All the regions' bishops gathered round in a room,
Causing nerd anxiety (that's why he gets a zoom).
He's listed his preferences, his future's in their hands,
Now he waits to hear, will it be near or distant lands?
His nails are chewed to bits, his paperpaks are growing wet,
The countdown's almost ended but it isn't over yet.
A church needs a pastor, a pastor needs a church,
A nerd needs to know now, don't leave him in a lurch!
At 4pm in Central Time it all will become clear.
So sit back, nerd, try to relax, and have yourself a beer!
Cheers to Church Ruth Nerd, who's getting his regional assignment today. May the bishops be kind, the candidating be swift, and the church utterly unprepared for the havoc about to be wreaked upon them.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Adventures in Dog-Walking
Sick or well, the dog must go out. So, this afternoon I dragged my butt off the couch and came out of my dazed stupor long enough to take a brief romp around the yard. Truth be told, I got more of a romp than I bargained for.
We strolled out to the mailbox (strolling being a midway point between my sleepy lumbering and her spastic leaping) and found it empty - which I would have expected had I been conscious enough to remember that it's a holiday. Then back across the street, where my slight hop onto the curb signaled to Laila that it was time for some real exercise. She was off like a cannonball while I was still mid-hop. In order to remain upright, I hit the ground running.
When eighty pounds of muscle tears off with you trailing behind, your choices are limited. You can let go of the leash, and spend the next hour chasing the gleeful escapee around the neighborhood. You can stop, and allow the dog's forward motion and your own inertia to plow your face into the ground. Or you can go with it, keep running, and let yourself be pulled into soaring, ground covering strides. I chose to run.
Okay, I chose to do what I had to do to avoid a painful somersault into the mud, and I shouted "STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP!!!!!!!!!!!!" all the way.
I feel quite certain that there must be a metaphor for ministry or life or something in this story.
I am also sure that I'd be able to clearly articulate that metaphor, except that I am still addled by sickness, and my lethargic self was just dragged around the yard at a speed at which no human body is meant to run. I'm going to lie down again now.
We strolled out to the mailbox (strolling being a midway point between my sleepy lumbering and her spastic leaping) and found it empty - which I would have expected had I been conscious enough to remember that it's a holiday. Then back across the street, where my slight hop onto the curb signaled to Laila that it was time for some real exercise. She was off like a cannonball while I was still mid-hop. In order to remain upright, I hit the ground running.
When eighty pounds of muscle tears off with you trailing behind, your choices are limited. You can let go of the leash, and spend the next hour chasing the gleeful escapee around the neighborhood. You can stop, and allow the dog's forward motion and your own inertia to plow your face into the ground. Or you can go with it, keep running, and let yourself be pulled into soaring, ground covering strides. I chose to run.
Okay, I chose to do what I had to do to avoid a painful somersault into the mud, and I shouted "STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP!!!!!!!!!!!!" all the way.
I feel quite certain that there must be a metaphor for ministry or life or something in this story.
I am also sure that I'd be able to clearly articulate that metaphor, except that I am still addled by sickness, and my lethargic self was just dragged around the yard at a speed at which no human body is meant to run. I'm going to lie down again now.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Things I'd Like to Know About My Future Self
If I could meet my future self, I would like to know if I will ever...
...become accustomed enough to being a pastor that I stop freaking out about every minor crisis.
...learn to keep my mouth shut, especially about personal details.
...finish a sermon before Saturday night.
...feel less protective of my physical space.
...get my Ph.D.
...come to feel like a particular place is really home.
...be less spastic about things fitting into the general category of relationships.
...be less spastic...in general.
...stop responding to criticism from congregants by immediately wondering if I'm about to be jobless.
...stop worrying about whether my denomination is going to "discipline" me.
...become fluent in one of the several languages I have studied.
...live in NYC.
...pay off my student loans.
...learn to give compliments freely and gracefully.
...become accustomed enough to being a pastor that I stop freaking out about every minor crisis.
...learn to keep my mouth shut, especially about personal details.
...finish a sermon before Saturday night.
...feel less protective of my physical space.
...get my Ph.D.
...come to feel like a particular place is really home.
...be less spastic about things fitting into the general category of relationships.
...be less spastic...in general.
...stop responding to criticism from congregants by immediately wondering if I'm about to be jobless.
...stop worrying about whether my denomination is going to "discipline" me.
...become fluent in one of the several languages I have studied.
...live in NYC.
...pay off my student loans.
...learn to give compliments freely and gracefully.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
The Pastor Disconnect (Part 3)
I'm concerned that Part 2 of this particular set of ramblings may have come off as a simplistic, "it's all going to be okay" retraction of Part 1. It's not. The disconnect is very real and often either very painful or deadening.
I had heard some of these frustrations from pastors while I was a seminarian. I always thought, "No, that won't happen to me. I'll do it better; I'll lean on God more fully; I'll be more balanced and have greater perspective." To which I now say, "Ha!" I still don't think I will burn out on ministry (hey, I'm only a year into this, people!). But I've realized that if I don't consider these factors - if I stop being aware of them and fighting for a way to exist both with and against them - there's a good chance I won't last, in ministry or, really, in life.
I don't want it to be like this. I don't want to feel the disconnect. But it is, and I do. And I'm struggling desperately to see where God is present in the gap, and to let myself be there, with present reality and future hope coexisting. That's the only way I'm going to be able to follow Christ through this journey that seems fraught with obstacles and pitfalls.
If there is anything I wish I had been told in seminary, it is this: that we would be sent out primarily to exist in tension. Of course, I wouldn't have had the foggiest idea what that meant at the time. I realize now, at least to some degree, that the tension is part of the calling. We're trained the way we are, not to cause us grief and anxiety and depression, but to enable us to be ministers: to be present, to point to God, and to push toward God, both for ourselves and for our congregations.
I had heard some of these frustrations from pastors while I was a seminarian. I always thought, "No, that won't happen to me. I'll do it better; I'll lean on God more fully; I'll be more balanced and have greater perspective." To which I now say, "Ha!" I still don't think I will burn out on ministry (hey, I'm only a year into this, people!). But I've realized that if I don't consider these factors - if I stop being aware of them and fighting for a way to exist both with and against them - there's a good chance I won't last, in ministry or, really, in life.
I don't want it to be like this. I don't want to feel the disconnect. But it is, and I do. And I'm struggling desperately to see where God is present in the gap, and to let myself be there, with present reality and future hope coexisting. That's the only way I'm going to be able to follow Christ through this journey that seems fraught with obstacles and pitfalls.
If there is anything I wish I had been told in seminary, it is this: that we would be sent out primarily to exist in tension. Of course, I wouldn't have had the foggiest idea what that meant at the time. I realize now, at least to some degree, that the tension is part of the calling. We're trained the way we are, not to cause us grief and anxiety and depression, but to enable us to be ministers: to be present, to point to God, and to push toward God, both for ourselves and for our congregations.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
The Pastor Disconnect (Part 2)
I posted previously about the common frustration of many of the ministers I've talked to lately. This is the other side of the story.
If everyone could (or would want to) spend their entire life studying theology and thinking about God, pastors would not be necessary. Perhaps part of the nature of this vocation involves acting as a bridge from the trivial to the crucial. Perhaps part of this calling is to stand in that junction between what is and what could be.
In the comments on the last post, someone mentioned the possibility of seminaries offering classes on things like running consistory meetings. From time to time, I have also remarked that it would be nice to develop in seminary some of the necessary skills of the "trade." But when I really think about it, I would not have wanted to take classes in parlimentary procedure and building maintenance, even though I've had to do some of both of those things. And I certainly wouldn't want herds of ministers going forth with more "practical" training than grounding in theology, biblical studies, ethics, church history, liturgy, etc.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's better to have that disconnect, if the alternative is ministers who don't have a vision of how things could be more.
Also, in between complaints and demands and wondering whether any of it is worth anything, once in a while, when you're not too busy griping to see God moving in the mundane...
Really great things happen. People change. You start to realize in those moments that it really doesn't have much to do with what you do anyway. You just get to have a front-row seat. And that, quite frankly, is a pretty cool calling.
If everyone could (or would want to) spend their entire life studying theology and thinking about God, pastors would not be necessary. Perhaps part of the nature of this vocation involves acting as a bridge from the trivial to the crucial. Perhaps part of this calling is to stand in that junction between what is and what could be.
In the comments on the last post, someone mentioned the possibility of seminaries offering classes on things like running consistory meetings. From time to time, I have also remarked that it would be nice to develop in seminary some of the necessary skills of the "trade." But when I really think about it, I would not have wanted to take classes in parlimentary procedure and building maintenance, even though I've had to do some of both of those things. And I certainly wouldn't want herds of ministers going forth with more "practical" training than grounding in theology, biblical studies, ethics, church history, liturgy, etc.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's better to have that disconnect, if the alternative is ministers who don't have a vision of how things could be more.
Also, in between complaints and demands and wondering whether any of it is worth anything, once in a while, when you're not too busy griping to see God moving in the mundane...
Really great things happen. People change. You start to realize in those moments that it really doesn't have much to do with what you do anyway. You just get to have a front-row seat. And that, quite frankly, is a pretty cool calling.
The Pastor Disconnect (Part 1)
For the last few days, I've been at a training event for ministers in their first three years with a congregation, many of us in our first parishes. Over and over, I've heard similar comments aired, all dealing with the same frustration: we're too bogged down with administrative details to do "real ministry," the kind of ministry to which we feel called and for which we were educated.
It seems we all experience a disconnect upon entering congregational life. It usually happens something like this: you have some sense of a calling from God toward ordained ministry. So, you enter seminary, where they fill your head with ideas and ideals about theology, ethics, liturgy, counselling, mission, and leadership. You fill your whole life with God, or at least God-talk. Then you head off to your first church, full of excitement and curiosity and hope for the ways you will impact the lives and faith of these congregants.
Of course, when you arrive, you start leading meetings, and before you know it, most of your decisions have to do with service times and property issues and fundraisers, while mission and transformative learning are pushed to the periphery. You answer phone calls demanding that you use the King James Version of the Bible and sing patriotic hymns, and no amount of theological reasoning convinces them that you have anything approaching a satisfying reason for not doing these things. You navigate second-hand complaints that you spend too much time doing denominational business and having a personal life rather than making the church your top priority, which makes you both laugh and scowl, because you have no personal life, and your responsibilities to the larger church have hardly begun. Something is always broken. Something is always lost. Before and after worship, you're inundated with inquiries about why there was no altar cloth on the communion table, the merits of real vs. oil candles, and whether it seems too cold in the sanctuary - is there a problem with the heater? You consider answering that you wouldn't be surprised if the power company had stopped bringing oil because giving is too low for the church to afford it...and then you stop yourself, and turn to wondering: is this really what I'm supposed to be doing with my life? How can this be my calling?
These questions just lead to more questions. Does anyone even hear those carefully researched and crafted sermons? Do any of the people in that Bible study think about what they read after they go home? When you respond to complaints by pointing people toward a broader picture of God and faith, do they listen, or just start thinking you're a compassionless theology snob? Why didn't anyone ever tell you in seminary that it would be like this?
And from all of these questions comes the looming potential for despair. If you go down this road very far, it suddenly becomes uncomfortably obvious why so many clergy burn out. Churches seem so very far divorced from the faith that enabled us to believe in our callings. Without a continued sense of that faith, faith that transforms our lives, how can anyone persevere in this vocation?
It seems we all experience a disconnect upon entering congregational life. It usually happens something like this: you have some sense of a calling from God toward ordained ministry. So, you enter seminary, where they fill your head with ideas and ideals about theology, ethics, liturgy, counselling, mission, and leadership. You fill your whole life with God, or at least God-talk. Then you head off to your first church, full of excitement and curiosity and hope for the ways you will impact the lives and faith of these congregants.
Of course, when you arrive, you start leading meetings, and before you know it, most of your decisions have to do with service times and property issues and fundraisers, while mission and transformative learning are pushed to the periphery. You answer phone calls demanding that you use the King James Version of the Bible and sing patriotic hymns, and no amount of theological reasoning convinces them that you have anything approaching a satisfying reason for not doing these things. You navigate second-hand complaints that you spend too much time doing denominational business and having a personal life rather than making the church your top priority, which makes you both laugh and scowl, because you have no personal life, and your responsibilities to the larger church have hardly begun. Something is always broken. Something is always lost. Before and after worship, you're inundated with inquiries about why there was no altar cloth on the communion table, the merits of real vs. oil candles, and whether it seems too cold in the sanctuary - is there a problem with the heater? You consider answering that you wouldn't be surprised if the power company had stopped bringing oil because giving is too low for the church to afford it...and then you stop yourself, and turn to wondering: is this really what I'm supposed to be doing with my life? How can this be my calling?
These questions just lead to more questions. Does anyone even hear those carefully researched and crafted sermons? Do any of the people in that Bible study think about what they read after they go home? When you respond to complaints by pointing people toward a broader picture of God and faith, do they listen, or just start thinking you're a compassionless theology snob? Why didn't anyone ever tell you in seminary that it would be like this?
And from all of these questions comes the looming potential for despair. If you go down this road very far, it suddenly becomes uncomfortably obvious why so many clergy burn out. Churches seem so very far divorced from the faith that enabled us to believe in our callings. Without a continued sense of that faith, faith that transforms our lives, how can anyone persevere in this vocation?
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Shift
It's amazing what a little shift of space can change.
During Advent, the sanctuary was rearranged, and the pulpit moved to floor level to make room for the massive Christmas tree that took center stage. I was somewhat tempted to comment on the theological implications of a tree usurping the place where the Word is preached, but I didn't. The fact is, I like preaching from the same level where the congregation sits. The shift to the floor alters the way I preach - positively, in my opinion.
After Christmas, no one was terribly keen about putting things back the way they had always been. So, we put the communion table on the dais, and left the pulpit on the floor. Of course, even this minor change threw off my rhythm, and I utterly screwed up the communion liturgy because I was trying to figure out how I was going to get the elements down to the elders. What a difference a little shift of space can make.
Today I'm leaving to spend a few days at a ministers' training event. Honestly, I'm less than excited about some aspects of it. But, it's being held at a beautiful camp that I love, in the Adirondacks. And so I have great hope. After all, one never knows what a small shift in space can alter.
I'll be without internet until Wednesday. May the week be full of blessed shifts, not only for me, but for you as well.
During Advent, the sanctuary was rearranged, and the pulpit moved to floor level to make room for the massive Christmas tree that took center stage. I was somewhat tempted to comment on the theological implications of a tree usurping the place where the Word is preached, but I didn't. The fact is, I like preaching from the same level where the congregation sits. The shift to the floor alters the way I preach - positively, in my opinion.
After Christmas, no one was terribly keen about putting things back the way they had always been. So, we put the communion table on the dais, and left the pulpit on the floor. Of course, even this minor change threw off my rhythm, and I utterly screwed up the communion liturgy because I was trying to figure out how I was going to get the elements down to the elders. What a difference a little shift of space can make.
Today I'm leaving to spend a few days at a ministers' training event. Honestly, I'm less than excited about some aspects of it. But, it's being held at a beautiful camp that I love, in the Adirondacks. And so I have great hope. After all, one never knows what a small shift in space can alter.
I'll be without internet until Wednesday. May the week be full of blessed shifts, not only for me, but for you as well.
Friday, February 03, 2006
The First Meme of My Second Year
1) When you looked in the mirror first thing this morning, what was the first thing you thought?
My skin looks oddly smooth and normallly-colored and generally good today. Weird.
2) How much cash do you have on you?
$6 and some odd change
3) What's a word that rhymes with TEST?
Lest
4) Planet?
Mercury
5) Who is the fourth person on your missed calls?
My friend Dan
6) What is your favourite ring on your phone?
I hate the rings on my phone but can't figure out how to download others. I have some sort of samba tone at present.
7) What shirt are you wearing?
Gray t-shirt. "Hockey: Created by men, perfected by women." Not actually true, but funny.
8) What do you label yourself as?
Unlabelable (is that a word?)
9) Name the brand of shoes you've recently worn.
Franco Sarto
10) Bright room or dark room?
Well, I guess that depends upon the occasion, doesn't it?
11) What were you doing at midnight last night?
Writing devotionals and chatting.
12) What did the last text message on your phone say?
"May be going to Thailand. Can't afford it, but wanna come?"
13) Where is your nearest 7-11?
I have no idea. Haven't seen one anywhere near here.
14) What's a saying you say a lot?
"Dude..." (valley girl in a former life)
15) Who told you they loved you last?
I don't know. Probably spidey.
16) Last furry thing you touched?
My dog
17) How many drugs have you done in the past three days?
2 Sudafed tablets
18) How many rolls of film do you need to get developed?
At least two, from pre-digital days.
19) Favourite age you've been so far?
This one is pretty good (28).
20) Your worst enemy?
It would probabaly be unwise to name names.
21) What is your current desktop picture?
Hugh's artwork of Laila
22) What was the last thing you said to someone?
"Bye!" Okay, that's a gimme. My last conversation was...an evasion of an actual conversation.
23) If you had to choose between a million bucks and being able to fly, which would you choose?
A million bucks. Paying off my debt would go a long way in improving my general mental condition.
24) Do you like someone? Like? Or “like” like?
I like many people. "Like" like? Well, let's just say I'm intrigued.
25) The last song you listened to?
"Cecelia" by Simon and Garfunkle, as assigned by Julio.
My skin looks oddly smooth and normallly-colored and generally good today. Weird.
2) How much cash do you have on you?
$6 and some odd change
3) What's a word that rhymes with TEST?
Lest
4) Planet?
Mercury
5) Who is the fourth person on your missed calls?
My friend Dan
6) What is your favourite ring on your phone?
I hate the rings on my phone but can't figure out how to download others. I have some sort of samba tone at present.
7) What shirt are you wearing?
Gray t-shirt. "Hockey: Created by men, perfected by women." Not actually true, but funny.
8) What do you label yourself as?
Unlabelable (is that a word?)
9) Name the brand of shoes you've recently worn.
Franco Sarto
10) Bright room or dark room?
Well, I guess that depends upon the occasion, doesn't it?
11) What were you doing at midnight last night?
Writing devotionals and chatting.
12) What did the last text message on your phone say?
"May be going to Thailand. Can't afford it, but wanna come?"
13) Where is your nearest 7-11?
I have no idea. Haven't seen one anywhere near here.
14) What's a saying you say a lot?
"Dude..." (valley girl in a former life)
15) Who told you they loved you last?
I don't know. Probably spidey.
16) Last furry thing you touched?
My dog
17) How many drugs have you done in the past three days?
2 Sudafed tablets
18) How many rolls of film do you need to get developed?
At least two, from pre-digital days.
19) Favourite age you've been so far?
This one is pretty good (28).
20) Your worst enemy?
It would probabaly be unwise to name names.
21) What is your current desktop picture?
Hugh's artwork of Laila
22) What was the last thing you said to someone?
"Bye!" Okay, that's a gimme. My last conversation was...an evasion of an actual conversation.
23) If you had to choose between a million bucks and being able to fly, which would you choose?
A million bucks. Paying off my debt would go a long way in improving my general mental condition.
24) Do you like someone? Like? Or “like” like?
I like many people. "Like" like? Well, let's just say I'm intrigued.
25) The last song you listened to?
"Cecelia" by Simon and Garfunkle, as assigned by Julio.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
A Survey for Pastors
Reverend Mommy posed these questions for ministers. Help her out and answer on your own blog or in her comments. The questions are worth entire posts on their own, but I'm going to try be honest but brief.
: 1. Is being a pastor detrimental or helpful to your faith?
Both, at times. Getting to be so intimately involved with other people's faith and having my whole life revolving around faith-related things often gives me the time and focus to really see God at work. On the other hand, the practices of faith can become required stuff to do (my "job") rather than reflective or encouraging of an internal faith.
: 2. Is being a pastor harder or easier than you imagined from your seminary days?
Harder. Much harder. No class can convey the variety and depth of situations you encounter in ministry. And I never understood how isolating ministry can be until I was in the midst of it. But then, it's also better than I imagined. I never saw myself as a pastor while I was in seminary.
: 3. Have you developed a passion/focus to your pastoral ministry?
Focus? Me? Seriously...I think that two foci have emerged: raising knowledge and understanding of Scripture, and encouraging a healthy, functioning community. Focus is difficult, though, when I'm the only staff member and have such a variety of "duties."
: 4. All this talk about clergy burnout-- is it any different than any other job?
It's different than the other jobs I've had. I can't think of very many jobs that require one to be constantly on-call, or to have relationships with people that are so complicated. Navigating the territory of being a spiritual authority and a friend and an administrator and a counselor gets tricky. I also don't know of many other jobs that cause the isolation and lack of outlets for frustration that professional ministry seem to bring for many of us. However, burnout seems to be an increasingly common phenomenon in our culture as a whole. It seems to me that clergy are just as susceptible to the hectic pace and demands for constant busyness, but we add to that a) guilt about resting and reflecting when we could ("should") be serving, and b) increased isolation because of the nature of the pastoral role.
: 5. How does the congregation show its support? What are the hidden perks to being a pastor?
My congregation is often really great at this. Verbal affirmation is pretty common here. Also, along with the requisite housing and such, I get gifts of food. Lots of food. And random surprises of furniture, dishtowels, and money.
: 6. How do you keep your children safe in their faith and church life?
My only challenge is getting the four-footed child to stay at home when I go to church, and not jump on the elderly people.
: 7. Do you admonish parishioners? If so, how?
Yes...occasionally...with much care and as much compassion as I can muster, and with a lot of centering prayer beforehand to make sure it's not my own stuff that I'm throwing onto them.
: 8. Do you pray for your flock? How?
Yes, but not as often as I think I should. I have an ongoing list that I pray through daily. I'm also working on using knitting as a prayer mechanism, going through my congregational and prayer chain lists and praying with each stitch.
: 9. Is it enough to be approachable? How do you approach them?
It's good to be approachable, but relationships require two-way initiative. I just try to be present whenever possible, and generally involved in their lives. It's a difficult balance for me to make it clear that I care and want to know them without forcing myself into their lives, but that's the goal.
: 10. Do you change lives?
God changes lives, and chooses to involve me from time to time in various ways. Sometimes I get to be a catalyst, sometimes I get a front-row seat, sometimes I just get a glimpse, and sometimes I miss it entirely.
: 11. Do you aim for greatness? What is your aim in ministry?
Well, I certainly don't aim for mediocrity. Currently, I aim to do what I do as well as I can, without going insane in the process. Of course, I have the occasional fleeting desire to be the "star," to be the consistently fabulous preacher, and the insightful teacher, and the amazingly creative worship leader, and the compassionate counselor. Then, reality strikes.
: 12. How do you keep the enmeshment of church/ministry/family from being overwhelming?
I think this is different for single pastors than those who are married and have kids. In some ways it's easier, because I don't have to worry about family members being pulled into the church web or ignored when church life absorbs me. However, I don't have the built-in away-from-church outlets that a family provides. I'm still trying to figure out how to build friendships nearby with people who are not in my congregation. I'm still trying to figure out how much of my personal life is appropriate to share with congregants. I'm still trying to figure out how to give myself space without holding myself too distant from the congregation.
: 13. Would you say you have deep relations with church members? Tips on barriers or boundaries?
I think that deep relationships take time to develop, and I've only been here for a year. I have a few relationships with church members that I consider to be deep...but, they're difficult, because I can't ever just be the whole me.
: 14. What is the difference between a mediocre and a good and an excellent pastor?
I know when I am being a mediocre, good, or excellent pastor. I know that regardless of what I think of myself, some congregants will find me to be mediocre, some will see me as good, and a few might see me as excellent. I think that excellence looks different for every pastor, depending upon their gifts and the dynamics of the church they serve. Okay, that all sounds like a cop-out answer.
: 15. What is a must read author/website?
You know, I have yet to find an author who has been really helpful to me in navigating life in ministry. For preaching, I read Barbara Brown Taylor and Fleming Rutledge.
: 16. Is there a difference in the way that men and women pastor? How would you describe the difference?
I hate stereotyping these things, because I so seldom fit the stereotypes, but...It seems to me that women tend to be far less comfortable taking the authority roles in ministry, whether that authority be in teaching, administration, or admonition. This reluctance is, of course, compounded by congregants' difficulty in accepting women in these roles.
: 1. Is being a pastor detrimental or helpful to your faith?
Both, at times. Getting to be so intimately involved with other people's faith and having my whole life revolving around faith-related things often gives me the time and focus to really see God at work. On the other hand, the practices of faith can become required stuff to do (my "job") rather than reflective or encouraging of an internal faith.
: 2. Is being a pastor harder or easier than you imagined from your seminary days?
Harder. Much harder. No class can convey the variety and depth of situations you encounter in ministry. And I never understood how isolating ministry can be until I was in the midst of it. But then, it's also better than I imagined. I never saw myself as a pastor while I was in seminary.
: 3. Have you developed a passion/focus to your pastoral ministry?
Focus? Me? Seriously...I think that two foci have emerged: raising knowledge and understanding of Scripture, and encouraging a healthy, functioning community. Focus is difficult, though, when I'm the only staff member and have such a variety of "duties."
: 4. All this talk about clergy burnout-- is it any different than any other job?
It's different than the other jobs I've had. I can't think of very many jobs that require one to be constantly on-call, or to have relationships with people that are so complicated. Navigating the territory of being a spiritual authority and a friend and an administrator and a counselor gets tricky. I also don't know of many other jobs that cause the isolation and lack of outlets for frustration that professional ministry seem to bring for many of us. However, burnout seems to be an increasingly common phenomenon in our culture as a whole. It seems to me that clergy are just as susceptible to the hectic pace and demands for constant busyness, but we add to that a) guilt about resting and reflecting when we could ("should") be serving, and b) increased isolation because of the nature of the pastoral role.
: 5. How does the congregation show its support? What are the hidden perks to being a pastor?
My congregation is often really great at this. Verbal affirmation is pretty common here. Also, along with the requisite housing and such, I get gifts of food. Lots of food. And random surprises of furniture, dishtowels, and money.
: 6. How do you keep your children safe in their faith and church life?
My only challenge is getting the four-footed child to stay at home when I go to church, and not jump on the elderly people.
: 7. Do you admonish parishioners? If so, how?
Yes...occasionally...with much care and as much compassion as I can muster, and with a lot of centering prayer beforehand to make sure it's not my own stuff that I'm throwing onto them.
: 8. Do you pray for your flock? How?
Yes, but not as often as I think I should. I have an ongoing list that I pray through daily. I'm also working on using knitting as a prayer mechanism, going through my congregational and prayer chain lists and praying with each stitch.
: 9. Is it enough to be approachable? How do you approach them?
It's good to be approachable, but relationships require two-way initiative. I just try to be present whenever possible, and generally involved in their lives. It's a difficult balance for me to make it clear that I care and want to know them without forcing myself into their lives, but that's the goal.
: 10. Do you change lives?
God changes lives, and chooses to involve me from time to time in various ways. Sometimes I get to be a catalyst, sometimes I get a front-row seat, sometimes I just get a glimpse, and sometimes I miss it entirely.
: 11. Do you aim for greatness? What is your aim in ministry?
Well, I certainly don't aim for mediocrity. Currently, I aim to do what I do as well as I can, without going insane in the process. Of course, I have the occasional fleeting desire to be the "star," to be the consistently fabulous preacher, and the insightful teacher, and the amazingly creative worship leader, and the compassionate counselor. Then, reality strikes.
: 12. How do you keep the enmeshment of church/ministry/family from being overwhelming?
I think this is different for single pastors than those who are married and have kids. In some ways it's easier, because I don't have to worry about family members being pulled into the church web or ignored when church life absorbs me. However, I don't have the built-in away-from-church outlets that a family provides. I'm still trying to figure out how to build friendships nearby with people who are not in my congregation. I'm still trying to figure out how much of my personal life is appropriate to share with congregants. I'm still trying to figure out how to give myself space without holding myself too distant from the congregation.
: 13. Would you say you have deep relations with church members? Tips on barriers or boundaries?
I think that deep relationships take time to develop, and I've only been here for a year. I have a few relationships with church members that I consider to be deep...but, they're difficult, because I can't ever just be the whole me.
: 14. What is the difference between a mediocre and a good and an excellent pastor?
I know when I am being a mediocre, good, or excellent pastor. I know that regardless of what I think of myself, some congregants will find me to be mediocre, some will see me as good, and a few might see me as excellent. I think that excellence looks different for every pastor, depending upon their gifts and the dynamics of the church they serve. Okay, that all sounds like a cop-out answer.
: 15. What is a must read author/website?
You know, I have yet to find an author who has been really helpful to me in navigating life in ministry. For preaching, I read Barbara Brown Taylor and Fleming Rutledge.
: 16. Is there a difference in the way that men and women pastor? How would you describe the difference?
I hate stereotyping these things, because I so seldom fit the stereotypes, but...It seems to me that women tend to be far less comfortable taking the authority roles in ministry, whether that authority be in teaching, administration, or admonition. This reluctance is, of course, compounded by congregants' difficulty in accepting women in these roles.
An Almond Branch
In case you ever wondered, this is what an almond branch looks like. I had no idea, but it's quite lovely, isn't it?
A First-Year Minister No Longer
One year ago today, I pulled a U-Haul van into the parsonage driveway and began a new segment of my life.
If the congregation didn't know what they were getting into before that, they were probably alerted by the fact that I arrived with a moving crew consisting of a somewhat flaming gay man and a homeless musician on his way to chase a dream in NYC. Hey, when you don't have a family, you make your own.
If I didn't know what I was getting into before that (and I didn't, I assure you. Still don't, actually.), I began to get a small clue when I got my first congregant visit, at 6:00 AM. Which was, coincidentally, about 15 minutes after I arrived. After 13 hours of driving, at 6:00 AM, I have no idea what I may have said to the poor woman.
After some sleep, I started unloading the van, with help from another wonderful congregant (and no help from the 'moving crew,' coincidentally). Oh, and we promptly locked ourselves out of the parsonage, and were forced to use snowballs to wake up the 'moving crew' to let us in.
Later that day, I wondered, "Why did it seem like things like stores were a lot closer when I interviewed?"
Anyway, it's been a year. A good year, a strange year, a year of uncertainty and struggle and blessing and wonder.
In commemoration of my anniversary, my blog has received a new name (although not a new url, as that would be a big pain for all concerned). God showed Jeremiah an almond branch as a sign of his call, and a picture of what God was doing in the world. No literal almond branches here, but many signs to guide me on my way. Here's to another year of (at least occasionally) seeing well.
If the congregation didn't know what they were getting into before that, they were probably alerted by the fact that I arrived with a moving crew consisting of a somewhat flaming gay man and a homeless musician on his way to chase a dream in NYC. Hey, when you don't have a family, you make your own.
If I didn't know what I was getting into before that (and I didn't, I assure you. Still don't, actually.), I began to get a small clue when I got my first congregant visit, at 6:00 AM. Which was, coincidentally, about 15 minutes after I arrived. After 13 hours of driving, at 6:00 AM, I have no idea what I may have said to the poor woman.
After some sleep, I started unloading the van, with help from another wonderful congregant (and no help from the 'moving crew,' coincidentally). Oh, and we promptly locked ourselves out of the parsonage, and were forced to use snowballs to wake up the 'moving crew' to let us in.
Later that day, I wondered, "Why did it seem like things like stores were a lot closer when I interviewed?"
Anyway, it's been a year. A good year, a strange year, a year of uncertainty and struggle and blessing and wonder.
In commemoration of my anniversary, my blog has received a new name (although not a new url, as that would be a big pain for all concerned). God showed Jeremiah an almond branch as a sign of his call, and a picture of what God was doing in the world. No literal almond branches here, but many signs to guide me on my way. Here's to another year of (at least occasionally) seeing well.
Rock Star
If I believed in reincarnation, I would say I was a minor rock star in a former life, and that the vestiges of that woman are still within me. I love having an audience. I love late nights. I love crowded bars and loud music and watching strangers leave their desk jobs and professional personnas behind to dance and mouth the lyrics and hit on wildly inappropriate people in very bizarre ways and try to escape their routines for a few hours.
I sometimes wonder if I'm the only minister on earth who loves these things.
I sometimes wonder why it is that I still crave the weirdness of the nightlife, when nearly everyone I know disdains it for more "wholesome" pursuits.
I sometimes wonder how it's possible to integrate the reverend and the party girl within.
Part of me still wants to be a minor rock star, and spend my nights wailing into a microphone. Of course, other parts of me want to be a professor, a hockey coach, a writer, a ski bum, an actress, and a bartender. Part of me wants to roam the world like a gypsy and see everything, while another part of me yearns to know and be known in a way that can only happen living somewhere long-term. Part of me wants to stay home and read philosophy for hours, and part of me twitches when I think of a night spent without faces and conversation. I want to love and commit myself to someone for the rest of my life and be single forever. I want to devote myself to saving the environment and restructuring the government and making the Church something good and ending oppression and helping people lead purposeful lives.
I sometimes wonder how many interests and passions and causes one person is really supposed to have.
I sometimes wonder if I'm still twelve years old inside and haven't quite figured out this little thing called "reality."
I sometimes wonder if all of the me's can really be contained in one life - and if they can't, where will they go?
I sometimes wonder if I'm the only minister on earth who loves these things.
I sometimes wonder why it is that I still crave the weirdness of the nightlife, when nearly everyone I know disdains it for more "wholesome" pursuits.
I sometimes wonder how it's possible to integrate the reverend and the party girl within.
Part of me still wants to be a minor rock star, and spend my nights wailing into a microphone. Of course, other parts of me want to be a professor, a hockey coach, a writer, a ski bum, an actress, and a bartender. Part of me wants to roam the world like a gypsy and see everything, while another part of me yearns to know and be known in a way that can only happen living somewhere long-term. Part of me wants to stay home and read philosophy for hours, and part of me twitches when I think of a night spent without faces and conversation. I want to love and commit myself to someone for the rest of my life and be single forever. I want to devote myself to saving the environment and restructuring the government and making the Church something good and ending oppression and helping people lead purposeful lives.
I sometimes wonder how many interests and passions and causes one person is really supposed to have.
I sometimes wonder if I'm still twelve years old inside and haven't quite figured out this little thing called "reality."
I sometimes wonder if all of the me's can really be contained in one life - and if they can't, where will they go?
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Schism and Heresy, and other fun topics
I have become accustomed to having a love/hate relationship with our denominational magazine, the Church Herald. Generally, I am resigned to these mixed feelings, and I read it from cover to cover simply for information's sake, expecting to be a little irritated and then move on.
This month, however, the Church Herald greeted me with an article that has been gnawing at me for several days. It was essentially a letter from a pastor in the midwest, someone I've met only briefly and with whom my dealings have been, well, not entirely positive. The gist of the letter is that the RCA is not unified; we are deeply divided by substantive doctrinal issues. He suggests, if he does not say outright, that we ought to consider splitting. This isn't the first time I've heard such a suggestion, although I believe it's the first time it's been aired so broadly.
I have to say first of all that the mere mention of dividing the denomination has the tendency to throw me into all sorts of turmoil. It feels like the word "divorce;" once someone says it, it becomes a real option. As much as I'm generally all for honesty, the suggestion of splitting seems to me like honesty misdirected. I suspect that he may be right about our differences - although I'm disturbed by the accusation that ministers who disagree with him are not holding to or preaching our Standards of Unity. But we haven't even really owned our disagreements. I appreciate his attempt at naming the disagreements, but for me, it's a big jump from admitting our deep differences to deeming them irreconcilable. Saying "we're not unified" does not have to come hand-in-hand with implying that we can never be unified.
I'm not married, and I can't claim to understand fully how married people navigate severe disagreements. But it seems to me that when an argument begins with "Perhaps we should just split up," that relationship is pretty much doomed. Similarly, our denominational ties feel severed already when disagreement and division are uttered in the same breath. I took vows to defend the Church from schism. For me, that means that dividing the RCA is an extreme, last-resort option.
I wonder if any of this would be happening at all if we were not having this ongoing battle over homosexuality. That is the main example used in the letter, as he asks whether we can really rejoice over the opening of new congregations if they disagree with us about homosexuality. He asks, "If you believe that homosexual behavior is immoral and unacceptable, how excited are you when new 'open and affirming' congregations pop up? And if you believe homosexuals have been oppressed and their sexuality wrongly condemned, are you truly grateful for every new church that will preach against same-sex behavior?"
So, I thought about this for a while. Am I pleased when ministers preach against homosexuality? No, of course not, especially when they turn it into preaching against people rather than against sin. But do I rejoice when a new community of Christian faith is available to people, even though they disagree with me? Honestly? Yes! Frankly, I'm happy when people are following Jesus, and I'm okay with the fact that they may understand that differently than I do.
This might actually be the biggest difference between the author and me. We also take ordination vows to defend the church against heresy. I see this constant insistence on being right, on keeping out people who disagree, as a form of heresy (see 1 Corinthians 8 sermon). He sees my tolerance of sin as heresy. So, there we are. I don't know how to proceed well. But I know that I'm not going to defend against heresy by encouraging schism.
This month, however, the Church Herald greeted me with an article that has been gnawing at me for several days. It was essentially a letter from a pastor in the midwest, someone I've met only briefly and with whom my dealings have been, well, not entirely positive. The gist of the letter is that the RCA is not unified; we are deeply divided by substantive doctrinal issues. He suggests, if he does not say outright, that we ought to consider splitting. This isn't the first time I've heard such a suggestion, although I believe it's the first time it's been aired so broadly.
I have to say first of all that the mere mention of dividing the denomination has the tendency to throw me into all sorts of turmoil. It feels like the word "divorce;" once someone says it, it becomes a real option. As much as I'm generally all for honesty, the suggestion of splitting seems to me like honesty misdirected. I suspect that he may be right about our differences - although I'm disturbed by the accusation that ministers who disagree with him are not holding to or preaching our Standards of Unity. But we haven't even really owned our disagreements. I appreciate his attempt at naming the disagreements, but for me, it's a big jump from admitting our deep differences to deeming them irreconcilable. Saying "we're not unified" does not have to come hand-in-hand with implying that we can never be unified.
I'm not married, and I can't claim to understand fully how married people navigate severe disagreements. But it seems to me that when an argument begins with "Perhaps we should just split up," that relationship is pretty much doomed. Similarly, our denominational ties feel severed already when disagreement and division are uttered in the same breath. I took vows to defend the Church from schism. For me, that means that dividing the RCA is an extreme, last-resort option.
I wonder if any of this would be happening at all if we were not having this ongoing battle over homosexuality. That is the main example used in the letter, as he asks whether we can really rejoice over the opening of new congregations if they disagree with us about homosexuality. He asks, "If you believe that homosexual behavior is immoral and unacceptable, how excited are you when new 'open and affirming' congregations pop up? And if you believe homosexuals have been oppressed and their sexuality wrongly condemned, are you truly grateful for every new church that will preach against same-sex behavior?"
So, I thought about this for a while. Am I pleased when ministers preach against homosexuality? No, of course not, especially when they turn it into preaching against people rather than against sin. But do I rejoice when a new community of Christian faith is available to people, even though they disagree with me? Honestly? Yes! Frankly, I'm happy when people are following Jesus, and I'm okay with the fact that they may understand that differently than I do.
This might actually be the biggest difference between the author and me. We also take ordination vows to defend the church against heresy. I see this constant insistence on being right, on keeping out people who disagree, as a form of heresy (see 1 Corinthians 8 sermon). He sees my tolerance of sin as heresy. So, there we are. I don't know how to proceed well. But I know that I'm not going to defend against heresy by encouraging schism.
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