March 21, 2011 · Bible, Community, ministry · 60 comments

Also last year, we asked some questions about how people come to belong (to this congregation, in the Christian Church, with the Lutheran tradition, etc.) We began a brand new ministry called “Journey with Christ” (in the tradition of the catechumenate, preparing adults for baptism or affirmation of baptism), and we were also asking parallel questions in existing ministries. How do people come to belong to the Biblical story, and know/feel that it belongs to them? And, How do young people specifically—kids and teens—come to belong?

The second question was addressed in a new confirmation curriculum called re:form. Rather than being organized by what teachers want young people to know about faith and tradition, it begins with (appropriately!) questions: what young people themselves might actually want to know. Video segments that go with each session have titles such as, “Why do I have to follow Jesus, can’t I just say I believe in him?” and “Does God still create stuff today?”

Beginning with questions has made a remarkable difference in our Wednesday night confirmation gatherings. The quality of engagement and real-life discussion rivals any adult education I’ve ever been a part of. And, the challenge for us as confirmation leaders now is one that the whole church faces in every area of ministry: if we start with the questions people actually have, do we ever get around to talking about the Bible and Lutheran Christian tradition? For example, I’m used to teaching the Bible and Luther’s Small Catechism in confirmation—now, can I still do that (i.e. “teach them what we want them to know”) AND address their actual questions?

So far, I’m hopeful that we can. Which is good, because if I (and we) can’t identify the connection between tradition, Bible, and the real lives of people of all ages, then the church really does have a problem. As another example, in preaching I’m used to starting with Scripture and then applying it to life—but what if people’s actual questions don’t start with Scripture, but somewhere else? The dilemma reminds me of my favorite quote from German theologian Dorothee Solle: “I am often afraid that theology is answering questions that people are not asking.”

Could this be why it’s so important to pay attention to the questions, even more so than the answers? How would ministry change if we not only asked good questions, but also listened better to the questions that surround us in our various communities, families, nation, and world—among people of all ages? And wondered together what the Bible and Lutheran Christian tradition might contribute to the conversation, through individuals and through the ministries of a congregation?

I’m seeing lately how much ministry and church life are characterized by the questions we are asking, perhaps even more than by the ways we are answering them. Each year about this time I have to write an Annual Report as a church staff member. This time, rather than just listing “what we did,” I’ve been pondering the questions that emerged in and through the ministries and relationships I’m involved in. Not surprisingly, there’s lots of overlap with the things I blog about here—young adult spiritual journeys, vocation discernment, belonging—so I’ll post the report, in two parts.

Two related “umbrella” questions span the whole year: How can a church like ours be a resource for young adults (ages 18-30) on their life journeys and spiritual travels? And, perhaps even more importantly, How can the church learn from and adapt to the resources and creativity that young adults offer? This is not the same as asking, “How do we ‘hold onto’ teens and young adults?” It’s not asking, “How will the Church survive if the current trends of declining membership and attendance among young people continue?” Rather, it’s a question about what we value and communicate as a congregation, who finds it possible to belong here, and how open we are to new generations’ own questions and answers.

In 2010 I had the privilege of traveling to several colleges, congregations, and young adult ministries, where I had this conversation with many others who are asking similar questions. Continue reading →

Many things related to “welcome” are crossing my path these days. With last Sunday celebrated as “Welcome Sunday” by many in the Reconciling in Christ community and this recent thought-provoking blog post by Pastor Keith Anderson, I have been pondering what it takes for someone to feel “welcome”–in particular, welcome in a church community or at a worship service.

Much of the church talk about welcome and hospitality that I’ve seen over the years focuses on first impressions–what happens the first time someone comes to worship, for example, and how follow-up happens from there. First impressions are crucial, I agree, but that seems more like “greeting”–and “greeting” may or may not deepen into “welcome,” and “welcome” may or may not become “belonging.”

Perhaps these are false distinctions. Perhaps they happen simultaneously, or perhaps they happen in a different order for some people. Perhaps neither greeting nor welcome works very well if there’s no potential for a deeper belonging down the road. In fact, perhaps it’s the potential for belonging that defines a good greeting or welcome.

But then how does belonging happen, and more to the point, how quickly does it happen? Continue reading →

1983679028_f733a006db_mThe gospel text for this Sunday, Luke 17:5-10, presents some challenges. For me, the biggest challenge is the way this parable seems to glorify “duty”–which I frankly have never found to be a very powerful motivator.

Just before this in Luke 17, Jesus has been talking to the disciples about two particularly challenging “duties” of discipleship: 1) correct one another when you’re wrong, and 2) forgive one another as many times as it takes. Given those difficult responsibilities, it’s no wonder, in verse 5, that the disciples cry out, “Increase our faith!” Jesus’ response does not seem particularly helpful, or at least not particularly comforting: “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you.” Huh? Then I guess we don’t even have that small amount of faith.

And then, this parable:

“Suppose one of you had a servant plowing or looking after the sheep. Would he say to the servant when he comes in from the field, ‘Come along now and sit down to eat’? Would he not rather say, ‘Prepare my supper, get yourself ready and wait on me while I eat and drink; after that you may eat and drink’? Would he thank the servant because he did what he was told to do? So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.’ ” (Luke 17:7-10, NIV)

Here is where I find it very, very helpful to read the Bible with people of different ages. How we read the Bible–or how the Bible reads us–depends on many things, one of which is the stage of life we’re living. Continue reading →

1184940392_38d1f78e3e_mThis morning the Writer’s Almanac informed me, “It was on this day four years ago that Pluto was demoted from being a planet. Pluto’s status had been debated for decades, but its fate was decided rather swiftly on this day, at the 2006 meeting of the International Astronomical Union (IAU).” I remember that time well, because in 2006 my own sense of self-definition and belonging was in transition, as I’d just left one call in ministry and was awaiting the next. For this fourth anniversary of Pluto’s “demotion,” I’ll repost the reflection I wrote for Religion and Spirituality.com on September 6, 2006:

“I know just how Pluto feels.” That thread runs through many of the comments on the recent redefinition of Pluto by the International Astronomical Union. Pluto’s been “demoted,” some call it, from planet to dwarf-planet.

We know what this must feel like, because it’s a universal human experience: losing status, being left out, or having our universe defined in a way that kicks us out of the place we expected or wanted. Continue reading →

I just returned from the Invitation to Service event, where I experienced yet again a reason I need to keep talking about finding one’s calling: because I forget key principles myself if I go too long between telling others about them.

For example: One of the principles of calling (”vocation”) is that you start with the gifts and talents you get, which are not always the ones you want. I’ve spent much of my life and ministry mourning the gifts I didn’t have or wanted more of, which diminishes the gifts I do have. This makes it hard to follow wherever my calling is taking me because I’m always wanting to go somewhere else. (It reminds me of Parker Palmer’s line from Let Your Life Speak: “Before you tell your life what you intend to do with it, listen for what it intends to do with you.”) I was hoping that I’d be immune to this by now, but I needed another booster shot this weekend. Continue reading →

After a great two-week trip to talk vocation discernment and the Treasure Hunt in southern California and Washington, D.C., I’m slowly processing all that I learned and continue to learn from many conversations. I’ll do that in the next series of posts–which should come a bit more frequently now!

A good companion for last week was Nanette Sawyer’s book, Hospitality–The Sacred Art: Discovering the Hidden Spiritual Power of Invitation and Welcome. As the title promises, it’s more of a spiritual guide than a practical how-to. For her, hospitality means making room in ourselves for people’s stories, joys and pains, and idiosyncracies. I agree with her that that inner work of “making room” is inseparable from the “making room” that happens in community–the practical welcome that people associate with the word.

It got me thinking about how the Church and individual congregations “make room” (or not) for young adults’ stories and journeys, and the particular joys and pains, and often transitoriness and chaos, that come with that stage of life. Continue reading →

stoneware jars by chefrandenAt my church, we’ve been talking about “Experiments in Grace-Full Living” during this season of Lent. That’s forty days before Easter of pondering and practicing what it means to be faithful–to go out on the limb of uncertain results for the sake of Love–to “sin boldly,” as Martin Luther famously said, “and believe in the grace of God more boldly still.”

I think it’s my lifelong Lutheran wiring that always eventually turns my attention from what we are called to do (”experiment in grace-full living”) to what God is doing in and with us. In last Sunday’s sermon, I raised the question of whether God, in a way, also conducts such experiments in grace-full living. Continue reading →

For any fans of the great ’80s movie The Princess Bride, that title might call to mind the character who repeats “Inconceivable!” each time a turn of events surprises him. Having already happened, however, the event is hardly “inconceivable.” So finally, a traveling companion says to him, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

I’ve used this sentence in sermons, and it comes to mind often when I’m digging into a Scripture text–especially one on a popular story such as the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37) or, as last Sunday, the so-called Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32). The more I dug into the parable, particularly with the help of Barbara Brown Taylor, the more I thought, “I do not think this means what I think it means.” It turns out the parable is probably not what it has become: the paradigmatic “sowing your wild oats and then returning home” story we often tell about some modern American young adults who go off to find themselves. As often happens with the Bible, the parable sounds quite different when you read with ears for community rather than individualism. You can read the sermon here.

Photo by House of Sims (flickr/creativecommons)

Photo by House of Sims (flickr/creativecommons)

Once in a blue moon in ministry, everything that I’m seeing, reading, preaching on, and having conversations about all seems to be pointing the same direction. I’m in the midst of one of those times right now. The many inputs make it difficult to sort things into a coherent post, but for now I’ll offer a few bullet points:

  • Last week in the midst of movie theater previews, I saw the National Guard commercial, “At This Moment.” It was a highly compelling invitation to enter that story and become a hero (I learned later that I wasn’t the only one who found it compelling: people of all ages told me that they were ready to go join up after seeing it themselves). It made me reflect on how Jesus’ invitation to join his story of salvation is not as compelling to most people. So that’s what I preached about last Sunday.
  • In confirmation class with middle-schoolers, we have been teaching about sin and grace. It’s easy enough to say that “sin is where relationships are broken—relationships with God, between people, and with the earth.” But it’s very difficult to make that definition come alive in a group of optimistic 12- and 13-year-olds who think their world is pretty good as it is, and that “bad stuff” like wars and poverty are aberrations. I’m not sure it’s my job (or even possible, given where they are in their lives) to impress upon them how selfish and awful people can be at their core, and how fundamentally the world is broken in so many ways. And yet—it’s no wonder then that Jesus’ invitation is not compelling. If the world is fine as it is, then what’s the point of one who comes to give himself for healing, forgiving, and making the broken whole? Continue reading →