Category Archives: Pastoring

Pastoring is a 24/7 gig. This doesn’t always mean that you’re constantly being called for things, but it does mean that your mind/heart never stop pondering the state of the congregation you’ve been called to.

The odd-relevance of “hoodie-gate” for the Church

Mark Zuckerberg, who is a rather odd guy (I say that by way of affection, “normal” people annoy me), started Facebook.  He made millions upon millions of dollars and created a platform where people re-connect and share with one another.  Yes, it has problems.  They like to play fast and loose with privacy a good amount of time, and the timeline is evil.  Still, it’s quite an accomplishment for a guy who is under thirty.

Now Zuck is planning Facebook’s IPO, and when it happens he’ll turn into a Billionaire overnight.  That boggles my mind.  Still, all that he’s accomplished before turning thirty is not impressive enough for the parasites of Wall Street.  For them, apparently, Zuckerberg much bow down in homage and wear “grown up clothes” when coming and asking for money.  Instead Zuckerberg work jeans and a hoodie, which sent Wall Street in a tizzy about being “disrespected.”  Sigh.

Then, today, I read a post on CNet regarding comments by an analyst named Michael Pachter who linked coming to Wall Street in a hoodie to going to a Church wearing a hoodie and said, “You shouldn’t do that.”  Why?  Because it doesn’t show respect for the institution.

I made two quick points on Facebook regarding these comments.  I’ll share those here and then add one more.

First, there are enough grungy links between the greed of Wall Street and the Church (in people’s minds, even if not in reality).  Please leave us out of the financial sector’s huff, OK?

Second, if the Church, Wall Street, or any institution is either so insecure or arrogant that it get’s freaked out by a sweatshirt then, frankly, to the nether-regions with the institution.  Such a thin veil of security shows just how fragile and weak such institutions are – and I’m tired of their games.  Zuckerberg was right to wear his hoodie – as if to say, “Look, here I am.  This is who I am and it’s what brought me to this point in my life.  If you want me, you get me – not some grown-up version you think I should be.”

Third, Wall Street (much like the Church) has completely missed the point of this entire exchange.  They assume Zuckerberg is coming to Wall Street asking for money – because that’s their motivation.  May I strongly suggest that Zuckerberg is heading to Wall Street out of curiosity – offering what he’s made to the market just to see what it’s worth.  He’s not coming his hands empty, asking for more, he’s got something to give, and he expected the offended bankers to understand the difference.  The Church does this, doesn’t it?  We have people come in and the system says, “Oh, you want what we have?  Well, let’s see how you smarten up some before we let you all the way through the door.”  The reality is, if people come to a church, which is getting rarer and rarer the longer we don’t learn this lesson, they come because they want to give themselves to see what can happen through their service.  They’ll show respect for the institution when it proves it’s worth to help them serve.

So, wear your hoodies to worship – and if the institution balks then tell it to take a gut check about what’s really important, and then tell it to repent.

Distractions smactions…

One of the first objections I hear from pastors regarding the use of digital technology in worship is,

“Then people will be too distracted, I want them to be completely focused on the sermon.”

I don’t buy it, for several reasons.

First, this makes the assumption that people ever were “completely focused on the sermon.” Well, perhaps “ever” is too strong a word.  It makes the assumption that people have been focused on the sermon at any point since the advent of recorded (and then broadcast) media.  Since this advent, the choice has been between mostly “ok” preachers, and a recording of your favorite entertainment or a really good preacher/teacher.  Is it any wonder people have been finding it difficult to listen to what is preached in churches since the late 1800′s?

Second, the desire as expressed above is too narrow.  I guess I can’t blame the preachers I know.  After all, in Protestant circles, we spend a lot of time being taught how to preach during our education.  On the other hand, we don’t spend a significant amount of time on the nature of worship.  Is it any wonder we think of worship as, “Three songs, an offering, and a sermon?”  The reality is, we need to help people focus on the entire pageant of worship – and not simply the sermon.  If this is the case, and I believe it is, then perhaps digital technology could be helpful rather than distracting.

Third, it assumes that taking away people’s digital devices would mean their attention would be automatically focused where we want people to focus.  This isn’t the case.  Taking away digital devices will merely shift a people who are naturally distracted and shift their attention to a  new distraction.  These range anywhere from writing out a shopping list, playing hangman with a neighbor, doodling on the bulletin, or (when all else fails) napping.  My working theory would be the subtraction of digital devices in low-church Protestant worship, in particular, would actually increase the amount of people being distracted from worship by their bad napping habit.

So, if people are going to be distracted anyway, what can we do?  Do we simply give up and never hope people learn/grow/change through worship?  Not at all.

People are distracted, but many are able to sit through  a sporting event, movie, or TV show with no problems – and even point out details later on.  Why?  Because there is movement.  The shifts in these media are such that it changes people’s perceptions and keeps their attention.  Churches, particularly low-Church Protestants, need to remember worship needs a movement to it.  People need to be able to change their eye levels, move their body position, and even cheer when the drama of God is unfolded (a good  liturgical “Alleluia!” is a wonderful example of this).

We can also, frankly, preach differently.  Aside from using a screen well (which I cover here), we can also work our content to match our audience.  Preaching is about communication, not about getting through a weighty manuscript and tossing out huge amounts of data at people.  We can always stretch people to be able to focus for longer periods of time, and we should do this, but perhaps preaching isn’t the best venue for this.  How many of us have been in, or preached, sermons where the main point was covered ten minutes earlier – but the sermon keeps on going because there are stories to tell and quotations to utter forth?  What if we just cut off the sermon when the main point was made?

Finally we need to allow for the truth that people will be distracted.  We are not an “all there” society, and haven’t been for generations.  We are a “here and elsewhere” society, and this was true long before the advent of texting.    If we use digital devices to aid in the awareness that worship is a movement, however, perhaps we can subvert a distracting influence and make it an ally to help people be more “present.”  No, it’s not an easy path to walk – and for some people a digital device will never help them focus.  I do know, however, that it’s easier help people turn the wheel toward a different heading, than it is to scream out against a forward momentum which has been gaining steam for over a century.  One lands us in a different location, the other gets us run over and bitter.  I’ll choose the former.

“Arrived” vs. “Arriving”

A Bradford Pear flower - looks beautiful, but it smells awful

Two Sundays ago a friend at church handed me a black cardboard envelope and said, “You remember what CD’s are, right?” The envelope was a nicely packaged copy of Springsteen’s Wrecking Ball album. I had given a listen to the first single from the album a few weeks earlier (based on my friend’s recommendation) and was struck by how brutally honest “We Take Care of Our Own” was. I’ve never been a huge Springsteen fan, actually I don’t listen to much music at all, but that single was enough to make me want to hear the rest of the album. When my friend handed me the disc, I was equally shocked and over-joyed.

As I mentioned, I don’t listen to much in the way of music. I enjoy music, but when I’m reading, writing, or even exercising I find music horribly distracting. It’s one the reasons I dislike speaking on the phone – sound places stress on my attention in a way that other stimuli do not, and music is the worst. I point this out because, while I ripped the CD into iTunes the very afternoon I received it, I didn’t get to listen to it much until last week when I did a terribly old-fashioned thing and put the CD into my car stereo.

As I drove my “coffice hours,” and then to lunch with a friend, I was struck with an album of fascinating musical breadth which expressed longing, hope, anger, and despair. Songs like “Rocky Ground,” and “We Are Alive” look forward to a new day – the latter even holding a sense of the resurrection being the doorway to hope. Songs like “We Take Care of Our Own,” “Shackled and Drawn,” and “Jack of All Trades” place hope and anger in the context of this world (specifically, this Country) – even going so far as to admit a longing to do violence to those who’ve created a system of oppression. As I listened to the album, I noticed something rather interesting. I felt buoyant, and ennobled, as both the reality of the current day and the hope of the new day had a light shown on them. By the time I arrived to lunch, I felt more compelled to live life well for the sake of the new day I hope for in Christ.

This left me wondering, however, why so little “Christian Music” has such an impact on me – particularly Christian music which is meant to be used in worship. What I finally concluded was this. When Bruce Springsteen sings of his hope for a new day he proclaims the hope of someone who knows he hasn’t arrived in it – nor do I get the impression that he’s certain he ever will because he can’t see a change without dehumanizing one group in order to lift another up, but he won’t stop hoping. When I listen to much of Christian music, particularly worship music, I catch very little of Springsteen’s longing honesty. What I encounter is, largely, an assumption that we’ve pretty much arrived and all we need to do is celebrate that. I come away from listening to Christian music as though I’ve eaten way to much candy. My taste buds feel great, but my stomach feels nauseous and the Kingdom seems far away.

What I think much Christian music lacks is something Springsteen knows intimately – the sense of “desert.” The more I pastor, read Scripture, and proclaim the Gospel the more I realize there is no hope without a sense of wandering. I’ve also noticed the ironic twist that those who are most aware of their wandering status are the ones who tend see the presence of Jesus’ Kingdom clearest. Those who think they’ve arrived tend to be unsettled and discontented with the way their families, churches, jobs, etc. have turned out.

I think I prefer being ennobled to long and hope for a new day over being fed candy while complaining about obesity.

 

Good Fiction

I just finished reading the Silmarillion. It’s only the second time I’ve read through it, but I think I’ll add this to my “annual reads” list – along with the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. After reading this narrative again I’m more firmly convinced modern students of the Old Testament (especially in the Industrialized West) should read the Silmarillion. Not because I think there are parallels between the Old Testament and the world of Tolkien, but because the Silmarillion can act as a bridge between modern reading expectations and the texts of the Bible.

The Silmarillion is a myth, and following the narrative requires gaining the ability to spot links between characters, foreshadowing refrains, and the ability to recognize cycilcal patterns in the plot. It does this in a dense format which is difficult for many modern readers to digest, but not so frustrating as to be inaccessible for an earnest reader.

The Old Testament is a complex narrative — filled with important links between characters, foreshadowing refrains, and cyclical patterns in the plot which highlight important points. It’s complexity, compounded by the “verse here – verse there” method of Scripture reading so prevelant in many churches, is a immense barrier of entry for many would-be readers. If readers learn to appreciate the shorter and more accessible narrative of the Silmarillion, however, the skills developed can help pry open the doors of the Old Testament. Such skills would allow readers to make the necessary links between characters, and hightlight the important refrains, which are essential to reading it’s pages. There will still be important interpretive work to be done, the world of the Ancient Near East is as alien to us as Middle Earth, but with the enhanced reading skills which are gained by reading works like the Silmarillion students of the Old Testament may be aided in knowing which questions to ask when they hit an interpretive wall.

As an added benefit, reading the Silmarillion enriches reading both the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings. If nothing else it reveals just how severe was Galadriel’s temptation to take up the One Ring – and how much strength she showed in rejecting Frodo’s offer.

CAIrB iFAQ

Last night I founded a new, informal baptist, association – the Caffeinated Association of Irregular Baptists.  I’ve had some comments about it, so I’ve put together this iFAQ (imagined Frequently Asked Questions).

How did you come to the idea of starting CAIrB?

Simply put, I was having a conversation with a friend and made a joke referencing our “Coffice Hours.”  My mind wandered to the title and thus the association was born.  This just goes to show that it’s best to keep my mind occupied.

Why do we need another Baptist association?

I don’t know if we need one.  I figure, however, that a group of people who get a lot of work done while sitting around enjoying each other’s company is as good a basis for an association as any.  It’s probably got more to commend to it than an association made up geographical groupings of institutions (which have no actual relationships with one another).

Why “Caffeinated?”

Caffeinated is a reference to the sense of fulfillment we have when we gather with our friends to do some work, chat, and make bad jokes. Most of us drink coffee while so engaged, but some people think soda is the way to go in the morning and we wanted to make room for them.

What do I have to do to join the CAIrB?

I haven’t really put much thought into it.  Perhaps we’ll come up with a special pledge to eschew stuffy offices for the wide-open spaces of uncomfortable chairs and good coffee.  The name does has the word “Baptist,” so I guess you should at least be comfortable hanging out with Baptists.

What’s with “irregular?” Do you guys have something against pooping?

As the Baptist tradition was forming there were two groups into which early Baptists tended to fall.  There were the “particular” Baptists (who believed in pre-destination) and the “general” Baptists (who didn’t).  I really couldn’t care less for the on-going argument about who God is going to save – so I made up a new category.  Bodily functions were not in mind at the time – but if that’s the meaning you want to give to it… it’s a free(ish) country.

What does CAIrB do?

I don’t know if CAIrB actually exists, but if it does the only thing we “do” is be friends to each other.  That’s pretty much it.

Annual obligation – It’s called “Advent” people…

It seems like the annual tradition of Christian snarkiness gets earlier every year.  First it starts with e-mails which follow the general theme of, “Make sure you say ‘Merry Christmas’ this year and let people know the real reason for the season!” I usually get upwards of ten of these e-mails, eventually I’ll get a list of retailers who are on “our side” and told to shop at them.  Eventually I’ll be commanded (again via a massively forwarded e-mail) about the horrors of “X-mas.” I am still waiting on this one.


I don’t wish to belittle anyone.  The people who send me these messages mean well, they really do, but getting them year after year after year is a bit wearying, especially since the fight is fought at least a month early.  It’s not Christmas right now.  I don’t care what the malls say, or your shopping flyers advertise, or your radio station is playing.  Christmas begins on December 25 and continues for twelve days. .The season we are currently in, is Advent.


Advent, a season of expectant hope and inward reflection, a time to look forward to the celebration of our Lord’s incarnation and look forward to the consummation of his Kingdom with the New Creation. It’s a time for hopeful prayer and worship, reclaiming eschatology for its roots in the act of worship.  It’s a time for renewed strength for the journey and confidence that the LORD keeps His promises.  It’s a time to declare, “Our story isn’t done, it’s secure in Christ.” This is the season I try and encourage Believers to celebrate every year, sadly with little effect.  The corporate machine which insists that Christmas is simply part of their shopping calendar is very powerful.  People also don’t easily give up what they “know” – even when their premise happens to be wrong.


I often wonder, “What if?”


  • What if Christians decorated their houses with Rose and Purple (Advent’s actually colors) rather than red and green (which date back to the 1800’s and has to do with the appeal poinsettias had for certain US Army soldiers during their time fighting Mexico)
  • What if Christians waited to decorate until Christmas day, adding new lights to neighborhoods which might already be considering the need to take them down “after Christmas?”
  • What if Christians spent December committed to prayer, worship, and service rather than stressing out over things that “need to be done?”
  • What if, instead of taking our holy-day cues from a shopping catalogue, we took them from the body of Christ?
  • What of we waited to say, “Merry Christmas” until it was actually Christmas?

How would we look different? How might we act different?  The only way to find out is to try.
Happy Festivus.  Why not watch the video below?

If I could plant a church

I’m a small church pastor. In a lot of ways I like being a small church pastor. After all, the smaller environment allows me a lot more freedom to experiment and see what catches on. Larger congregations tend to be more corporate minded. I don’t do well in an environment which brings cubicles to mind.

Still, small churches carry their own down-side. Their size makes any shift in attendance alarming, so one or two families can hold a small church hostage if the congregation isn’t careful. Many small churches also used to be large, and find themselves paralyzed by their nostalgic recollections of the past. I used to say that Central was haunted by a lot of ghosts – people who were no longer there, but who nevertheless forced us to keep going on a certain path because leaving it would upset them. A lot of these ghosts have been exorcised at Central, but there’s still an underlying sense that, should we move too far from the established path, they could come back and make us miserable. Longing for, and fear of, the past can be as powerful a motivator as hope. Sometimes, much to my chagrin, it seems to be more powerful.

Central is moving forward in a transitioning process, and we’ll probably stir up some of these “ghosts” (if only in our heads), so I though it might be a good time to sit down and take stock of what I tend to look for in a congregation. If I were given the opportunity to just start over and plant a church, what would I want it to look like? Here’s some thoughts.

Hospitality would be in-grained

Established churches tend to see hospitality as the realm that a few people deal with (usually the ushers). Sadly, these people often express hospitality poorly because they never had a culture of hospitality breathed into them. We recently came across an usher’s training book from a bygone era at Central. Ushers actually used to “ush” people to their seats: asking for seating preference, inquiring about special needs, and offering to answer any questions a visitor might have. This is a far cry from showing up and finding your name on a schedule and handing out bulletins (often while talking to friends).

I realize the world of the “church usher” no longer exists, and the idea that they were the people who showed hospitality while other folks just got on with their business may make sense in a church of 250, but in a congregation of 60. Every regular attender should have breathed into them the opportunity of hospitality. They should know how to introduce themselves well, how to make sure people are feeling “at peace” in the building, and make sure engage people in conversation. This might make people feel like they are out of their “comfort level.” To that I say two things. The first is, “Good, get used to it.” The second is, “Join the club, you think I naturally want to talk to folks I don’t know?”

Collaboration would be required

I make no secret that I cannot stand the “monthly meeting” model for church ministry. It makes no sense! Half the actionable items brought up in a meeting require time to process (and are usually forgotten when not in a meeting). New items tend to overwhelm people to the point of tuning out. When an project is started, few people are aware of it and so the person(s) doing the task often feel like no one cares. This makes no sense.

If I were to plant a church collaboration would be mandated for all leadership, and such collaboration would not be broken up by board assignment. Rather the leadership would share folders in GoogleDocs, and share proposals, updates, and reports with each other – soliciting comments. Should several leaders find themselves read a document at the same time, they can take a few minutes to discuss it right then – having their conversations automatically saved for others to read. The month, then, becomes a meeting – and the in-person meeting becomes a way to hash out rough edges rather than a way to bring others “up to speed” on an idea (which is too often shelved for “next meeting”).

Yes, this requires some discipline, it would also be a lot less stressful than the way many churches currently do things. If a person was unwilling or unable to work collaboratively, then they could make their gifts available in other ways. The leadership, however, should be working together.

Church membership and discipleship would go hand in hand

What do we do after conversion and/or baptism to help people continue in their journey of discipleship? For most churches the answer is, “Not much.” I find this in tolerable, and I commit this error over and over and over again! A lot of Churches fall into this trap for any number of reasons, but most often because they are afraid of offending people by pushing to hard and chasing them away. Empathy isn’t a bad impulse, but it also needs to be a directed impulse.

If I were to start a church I think I might ask people to do a self-evaluation every year during the Easter Season. They could spell out their thoughts on what they’ve done to grow in Christ the previous year, how they’ve used their spiritual gifts (or, how they discovered a spiritual gift), and what discipleship opportunities they embraced at the church that year. The best part is, as long as there’s an answer (“I didn’t'” isn’t an answer is expressed passivity) there is no wrong answer. Maybe this would help people discover something about themselves they hadn’t before seen, and perhaps the congregation as a whole would learn something about itself as well. Responses could be video, written, cartoon, interpretive dance… whatever… just as long as people did this review. Anyone who failed to do so within a time-frame, would be automatically released from the rolls. This would simultaneously allow people to be who they are, while also allowing the church to be populated (and led) by people who have a passion for it’s mission. They don’t have to be spiritually well-formed to be a member, they just have to be able to express that they are on the journey. I don’t think that’s much to ask.

tradition would meet Tradition, and get the snot beat out of it

I love Tradition. I love the living, breathing, story of all those who have come before me in the faith and gathering around the throne with them in worship. I love searching Tradition and meeting people and places I’d never before seen, and yet feel a kinship with nonetheless. Tradition is the vision of the Holy Spirit working through the story of the Church and drawing us to Christ.

tradition, on the other hand, is more concerned with what “Brother Oswald” used to do, what we like, and what we’re comfortable with. tradition punishes passion and a sense of Godly adventure, Tradition kindles it’s embers into fire (darn you Amazon, for co-opting that metaphor!). Admittedly, the two are often hard to distinguish – and Tradition can morph into tradition all to easily (whenever it becomes a bludgeon used to keep people in line). Yet, Tradition is still important enough brave the waters and embrace it anyway. If I were to plant a Church, the story of the Holy Spirit working through history would be gone through again and again and again. How a denomination was founded, stories of people who lived for the Gospel throughout history, the study of how the Bible came to be formed, and the embrace of the mystical transport of worship as expressed in the Creeds. Through embracing Tradition we could know who we had been, and thus catch a better glimpse of who we might become.

Creativity would be encouraged

People can be amazing, and God has given us amazing gifts by which we can serve Him. Yet, churches too often fear people who are creative, and instinctively try to beat them into line (sadly, in the past I’ve lived this). Creative people need to be encouraged to ask questions, float ideas, and share their exuberance with others. The church is lesser being when they are stymied. These creative passions, however, are to be harnessed for all to enjoy rather than to seize power and rule. In the Church, creativity is always tied into the call of discipleship, this is something a yearly meditation can help to encourage.

So, there are some thoughts – while I’m not starting a new church they will probably impact the way I shepherd Central through it’s transitioning process. You may not like what I’ve written, or some of the ideas I’ve laid out. That’s fine. Just remember two things:

  • These are my thoughts, I didn’t claim to be writing your thoughts
  • Write out your own thoughts and show me a more compelling vision. Just don’t say what can’t be done, demonstrate what can be done better

Why “Coffice Hours?”

If you come I won't look at you funny

I’m sitting in the Treehouse. It’s a coffeeshop in Audubon, NJ owned by an acquaintance of mine (who also happens to be a youth minister at a nearby baptist church). I come here every other Thursday to write my sermon, drink coffee, and perhaps get a tasty morsel. It’s always a good time. There are times, however, when I’m speaking with other pastors about my “coffice hours” that I get the distinct impression that I’m not “doing it right.” I couldn’t disagree more, and I’d like to take the time to explain why.

First, the sense of community is palpable at the Treehouse. Everyone knows Randy and Tina (the owners), loves their children, and has a general awareness on what’s going on in each other’s lives. I’ve had conversations with a group of gentlemen who sit around and talk sports, pastors from other denominations, parents who come to let their children play, and have even been enlisted to read a book for a group of kids who held up a book and gazed at me with pleading eyes. I’m an introvert at heart, but the welcoming atmosphere is energizing. The silence of my office, however, can get a bit oppressive at times. I find both spaces useful for different purposes (I tend to brainstorm in my office), but prefer the more fluid environment. Being an introvert with ADD can lead to all sorts of logical conflicts.

Second, my office isn’t really a space at all – it’s my tools. As long as I have phone and my iPad or MacBook I’m at my office. Most people who contact me do so through e-mail or text-message. The people who tend to call me either call my house (and then I get the message e-mailed to me) or my GoogleVoice number. I experienced my oficeless office again yesterday when I took a member to a medical appointment. As I waited in the lobby I took out my iPad and wrote my sermon notes out in the Olive Tree reader (then I copied them to Accordance – it’s easier to read them as a running commentary in that app). By the time the appointment was over, I had completed the task I set for myself on Wednesday. In addition to completing my normal task, however, I was also able to complete a pastoral visit with someone who really needed one. If my tools were located in one space, I would have been able to accomplish only one of these tasks, and felt uncomfortable over what I hadn’t been able to do.

Third, during my “coffice hours” I get to work around other people who are in the same boat I’m in. We do our separate work – but we also swap stories, give and receive counsel, and enjoy each other’s company. In other words, in a vocation often steeped in much loneliness, we gain back some of the benefits of working in a collaborative setting. We each have our own goals for the morning which are related to our different congregations, but we are strengthened knowing someone else is nearby, should we feel the need to have someone to talk with. This is good for our souls, and because we’re doing “typical work” it avoids the trap of being yet another appointment jammed into an already crowded schedule,

So, if you happen to be free on some Thursday morning stop by at the Treehouse, we just might be there waiting.

Believe Different

Believe Different

The week Steve Jobs died was a bit of a whirlwind for me. I had been at a “vision day” with fresh expressions and came away incredibly encouraged, the next day Steve Jobs pass away and as I looked back on his life and accomplishments I was struck by (infamous?) passion to never compromise on the vision he had for Apple. The sermon ended with the graphic depicted here, “Believe different.” It’s an obvious homage to Apple’s iconic ad campaign which helped spark Apple’s resurgence – but it’s more than a cheesy slogan or homage. Let me spend some time unpacking the thought behind “Believe different.”

Does “Believe different” mean we need to dump all the old things we do in worship and focus on new practices?

The answer to that is, “No, I don’t think so.” Even if I didn’t feel spiritually bound to the generations of Christians who came before me, my love of history would probably prevent me from tossing out generations-old worship practices for something that has “it’s new” as it’s strongest selling point. I’m just not put together that way. On the other hand, I do think “Believe different” means we should take a long look at worship practices that we’re accustomed to, or simply find appealing. It may be that some of our practices need to be reconnected to the heritage from which they sprang, and we might find that some practices we “like” need to be re-thought entirely. Any time I connect “Believe different” with the practice of worship, I always foresee a fusion of ancient and future.

Does “Believe different” mean we we’ve been doing it wrong all along?

No! There’s a reason why a congregation has been around for over one hundred years – for the bulk of it’s existance people experienced a genuine connection to Christ and his Kingdom there. Just as with worship, that heritage needs to be cherished. There is also a reason, however, why a great man mature expressions of the Church begin to decay slowly over time. It’s my contention that the pressures are as much from within as from without. A good many congregations stop cherishing their heritage, and begin coveting it. “Believe different” will entail a fresh look at a congregation’s heritage to better appreciate, and more healthily critique, it’s unique expression of the Church.

Does “Believe different” mean that my favorite ministry will be taken from me?

Seizing a cherished expression of faith from someone seems a lot like theft, to me. Lee Spitzer once told me he dislike the title “executive minister” because didn’t want to “execute anything.” Adding, “I’m not an executioner, I’m a pastor.” I agree with his thoughts. Where there is energy to keep doing a ministry, ordering it shut down doesn’t seem very appealing to me. On the other hand, “Believe different” may point out to us that some of our cherished expressions of faith are being kept alive on life-support long after they were effective in their mission. Perhaps we’ll even discover the wisdom strength to allow some ministries to “die well” – only to discover that the impulses from which they first sprung have been waiting for a moment of resurrection!

Does “Believe different” mean I don’t have a place anymore because I’m old?

Let me be clear. One of the greatest sins I’ve seen in this culture (both within the Church and without) is the belief that “old people” have no value and need to get out of the way for the “new guard.” I do not believe that for an instant, and the moments when I’ve had that thought projected on to me have been some of the most painful of my life. My best friend, up until I turned 28 years old, was my paternal grandfather (who died in his 90′s). He was old, one of the oldest people I’d ever known until I became a pastor, but he knew how to dream. He was loving, energetic, loved his neighbors, and ran the neighborhood bicycle pump for the kids in a 2 block radius. It is love of life and friendship always sends me for a loop when I hear people say things like, “I’m old, I can’t do anything new now.” This simply isn’t the case, and when I hear it I grieve deeply. I can only ask, “Why would you sell yourself so short as to think God doesn’t want you to keep moving on the journey?”

What if I don’t want to “Believe different” because I’m happy with the way things are?

The baptismal is dry more than it’s filled. Worship attendance is down. The stress of life is way-up. People are tired. A great many churches have lost any hope for good ministry in the present and future. If we don’t “Believe different” and take an honest look at ourselves we’re going to get run over. Don’t settle for hanging on and slowly withering away in peace and quiet – the Lord of the Church has more in store for us than that!

Oh the workflow

This past week I went to a local pastor’s luncheon. It’s made up of some wonderful people, but I was reminded again of how alien I am to the world in which my local peers function. Sometimes I find it depressing.

What reminded me of my outsider status this past week was the reports in a project that is underway by the clergy. Folks are trying to compile of sources for assistance when confronted by issues to big to handle with our own merger resources. It’s a good idea, and is coming together nicely, but it’s also been going on for months. Last week I saw why.

When the progress report came out, there were some holes in the list because people hadn’t followed through on looking up the information and getting it to the list compiler. Then someone brought up an agency not yet on the list and the compiler asked, “Would someone volunteer to get their information and bring it to the next meeting?” At this point I knew I was out of place. Looking around the table I knew there were at least four smartphones present at the meeting, yet we were still working on the assumption that the accumulation of data was significant work that needed a month to complete. Frustrated, I pulled my phone out of my pocket – which brought a comment from the list compiler, “Oh you’re volunteering to do it Wes?” I replied, “No, I’m bringing up their contact information and you put it in right now.”. We got the information, and it’s now in the list.

So, once again I am reminded that I am simply wired different than most of the clergy I work with. I perceive problems differently, I arrive at different solutions, and I’m used to working in an environment where the accumulation of data takes seconds or minutes, rather than days and months. I live in a different world, which is not all better or all worse then the world many of my peers work in – but it is radically different. My peers don’t quite understand this, hence my feelings of isolation when trying to be part of the group.