Pastor's Book Overdosing

What's the pastor reading? I have a big number of books on my desk that have caught my attention. It's a professional affliction of pastors. Eventually I'll get to them. Sometimes a parishioner will ask me what they are, so here's the list, and a short reason for why they are "in the pile."
For supplementing our Thursday night bible study of Mark:
Mark: Images of an Apostolic Interpreter, by Clifton Black (former seminary professor and magnificent teacher) None of the books of the bible were written in a vacuum. The "backstory" of every one is full of thick history, and the Gospel of Mark is no different.  I revel in studying the backstories, particularly when they are full of real people, and their influence.
For being challenged in my own spiritual growth, and recommended by my spiritual director:
The Wounding and Healing of Desire: Weaving Heaven and Earth, by Wendy Farley and
Spirit and Trauma: a Theology of Remaining, by Shelly Rambo, also useful for work with disaster responders and survivors.
For keeping up with all the church transformation and renewal literature (a field far too vast for anyone's own good):
Exiles: Living Missionally in a Post-Christian Culture, by Michael Frost
Church 3.0: Upgrades for the future of the Church, by Neil Cole
Journey in the Wilderness: New Life for Mainline Churches, by Gil Rendle (a fav of many colleagues)
Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed Cross the Road: Christian Identity in a Multi-Faith World, by Brian D. McLaren. McLaren is a prolific writer and speaker and has his own publishing and speaking enterprise.
And finally, and most deeply...
Passion for Pilgrimage, by Alan Jones, because this is a book being read and studied by a lot of faithful people in this little congregation.
Yes, it's too much to absorb. Anyone is welcome to relieve me of this affliction by borrowing these from my shelf and giving me the Cliff Notes version.

Yea, It's about what's NEXT

Yes, I'll be going to the NEXT Church Conference again this year (in Atlanta this time).  Every year since this group of forward-thinking Presbyterians began to meet I've at least poked my head in. I'm way over the median age limit for the group. But this is the future of the church so I'm happy to show up and cheer them on.  Besides, it's fun to attend such an event without me having to plan it.  I can just show up and be inspired.

Most of the times that I've gone, I've found a new contact, been introduced to a new way of doing church, or have just been inspired to think about the future of the church in a new way. My "little church with a big mission" wants to know how to be the face and hands of Jesus in new ways, but also how to do this faithfully with the crowd that keeps showing up on Sunday morning.

January Spiritual Nurture

In the past, I've noticed that many folks have a difficult spiritual time in January. Maybe it's that they're pushing themselves to follow through on all those New Year resolutions, or maybe it's just that in the northern hemisphere, the light has been going away for a while--the S.A.D. syndrome--or maybe it's just the post-Christmas blahs. With all the tasks we've placed on ourselves for living up to our own (unrealistic?) expectations to 'enjoy' the holidays, it's no wonder that we fall short and feel let down.
What would really help us is a return to the practice of sabbathing, that is, letting go of what's not important. A new book came to my attention from a colleague. I'm going to read it, as soon as I get the time!

 
The book is the true story of how author Jen Hatmaker (along with her husband and her children to varying degrees) took seven months, identified seven areas of excess, and made seven simple choices to fight back against the modern-day diseases of greed, materialism, and overindulgence.
Food. Clothes. Spending. Media. Possessions. Waste. Stress. They would spend thirty days on each topic, boiling it down to the number seven. Only eat seven foods, wear seven articles of clothing, and spend money in seven places. Eliminate use of seven media types, give away seven things each day for one month, adopt seven green habits, and observe "seven sacred pauses." So, what's the payoff from living a deeply reduced life? It's the discovery of a greatly increased God--a call toward Christ-like simplicity and generosity that transcends social experiment to become a radically better existence.

Taking the Time

It's here...the rest, the pause. Do you notice it? That time the year when time slows down? I just finished all the pre-Christmas tasks. It's very quiet outside and in, and now, for just a few days ahead, I can see that the way is clear...to notice something or someone else, to listen, to be in the moment of now, to enjoy Christmas present. God's gift of time is surely hallowed by the pause.
Let us rejoice and be glad in it...right now.
Peace to you and yours.

Against My Mother's Advice

One of my guiding principals for raising children has been to "catch them being good" and ignore them when they misbehave. My mother taught me this, and for the most part, it's worked well. I have been ingrained with this principal so much that it spills over into the way I treat adults. When people are misbehaving my first impulse is to ignore them, and not give them attention that they might be craving. Most bad behavior in adults doesn't seem to rise to the level demanding my own outspoken criticism.
Being a pastor, this is a hard burden to carry.  I've often been asked to be the "enforcer" of a moral code from some in my flock who think it's part of my job to correct other people's behavior.
 "That so-and-so!...Why can't you say something to them?"
Not many of them want me to correct their own behavior, of course.
So now I'm grieved by my brothers and sisters in Christ whose bad behavior I can't ignore.  I did march with my Muslim neighbors a few weeks ago, chanting "ISIS is not Islam" in front of the White House, because I could understand how they felt. I feel the same way when someone does something despicable in the name of my religion.  Solidarity with them seemed appropriate.
So, now, against my mother's advice, I have to pay attention--and call attention--to bad behavior. I can't ignore ignore it anymore, those--mostly hateful words--that are coming from people who self-identify as Christian.  I'm speaking out, signing my name to various petitions circulating in the wake of the latest round of hate speech, saying that their brand of Christianity is something I don't even recognize. 
On the other hand, I can't help feeling that all this public shaming of bad-behaving Christians is just giving them more attention and amplifying their message.  Does evil need attention in order to thrive?  Mom, I think I can say that we're on the same page about these sorry Christians, but I sure wish that they didn't get all that attention.

Why is there a boat in your sanctuary?

One of the organizations that shares our building--Arlington Neighborhood Villages has people who regularly walk through the church sanctuary to get from their office to the church office. One of their delightful volunteers ran into a church member last week and asked "Why do you have a boat in your sanctuary?" Aside from being just a fun thing to have in a sanctuary, the boat and its various appointments, like a "sail" and a "wheel," have helped us visualize the metaphor: the church is like a boat because...
we need the wind of the spirit to make it go
everyone has to work together on the crew
sometimes there are funny words we use, that only other 'sailors' know: port, starboard, fore and aft
on a boat, you need to wash (in the baptismal font) and eat (in communion)
sometimes there's stormy seas
Every week until Thanksgiving, we're using the boat in worship to play with the idea of church. We were inspired by Joan Gray's book, Sailboat Church, in which she advocates for a paradigm shift from a "rowboat" church--something that moves on human power--to a "sailboat church" that moves on the power of the wind/Spirit...Nice to remember and it's just fun to see all the kids, big and little playing in the boat on Sunday morning.

Feedback loops in a culture of generosity

Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Luke 12:34)

So is your treasure behind a fence or on a table? I’m starting to think about the stewardship season, and the relationships between all of our collective wealth and our individual wealth, and what that has to do with the purposes of God.  The church is a funny community.  Part of our business is inspiring generosity so that more people are inspired to be generous.  That is, it’s the church’s job to call people to faith in Jesus Christ, so that we will be able to live more and more like Jesus, and give ourselves away.  Seems like a circular kind of purpose.

And so it is. We gather money and resources in order to give them away and in the process transform ourselves and others into better givers.  It’s a feedback loop: more generous people mean more and more life to share around more and more (or longer and longer) tables.  In the classic feedback loop, every pass through the loop amplifies the signal being fed back. When you want to short circuit the feedback loop, you put up a barrier so the signal stops.  The signal eventually dies.  If we want the message about a generous life style to die down, we can hoard our wealth.  If we want to call people to follow Jesus, we can practice generosity.

I read something from a person who was teaching about stewardship in order to inspire participation in the PCUSA’s campaign for starting “1,001 New Churches.” This is right on the money (pardon the pun):

“The church does not teach stewardship in order to float its budget for ministry that has not yet happened. The church teaches stewardship as a way of life. ... in communities awakening or re-awakening to God, almost nothing can be more important than realizing that your life, and all its assets, are a gift [and so are to be given away in order to fulfill their purpose! Ed.].

The feedback loop effect is well-documented in communication theory. Jesus taught about giving oneself away as the way to live in order to find true life: "If you try to save your life, you'll loose it, but if you loose your life for my sake (that is, for the right reasons), you'll find it."