Category: Church

Signs of the Apocalypse #2: What’s an apocalypse for?

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Image is “The Unveiling” by Peter Kaminski on Flickr [CC BY 2.0]. I have no idea what’s under there]

Apocalypse literally means “to unveil.”  It’s the opening word of the Book of Revelation, a revealing.  The writer lifts the veil from the world we see to reveal things as they really are. 

Being killed is not the worst thing that can happen to you in Revelation.  The worst is being seduced, giving ourselves over to forces that will destroy us.  Power is seductive in Revelation.  I can think of no other biblical book that deals with the toxicity of power like Revelation.  The seduction in Revelation is to confuse power with truth, worthiness, or righteousness.

You’ve probably heard the quote, “If you really want to test a man’s character, give him power.”  You’ve probably also heard, “Adversity doesn’t build character, it reveals it.” 

Apocalypse means “to unveil.”  We’ve had a lot revealed lately. 

We’ve had pastors reveal their willingness to compromise principle to be near power.  They’ve replaced loyalty to principles with loyalty to a president.

Our Supreme Court confirmation process has revealed a Senate majority leader willing to make his own rules for partisan advantage.  Because who’s going to stop him? 

The pandemic has revealed how politicians will pressure public health officials, compromising science to benefit the politics.

The president has revealed his unworthiness for the office in his expectation that the government will serve his personal interests, rewarding his friends and punishing his enemies.

We’ve seen a revelation about ourselves as a people.  The problem with the president is not his incompetence, his racism, or his lies.  There are incompetent racist liars everywhere.  The problem is that people vote for him.  People uncritically accept his words and interpret his wealth as a sign of his worthiness and credibility.  He’ll protect them from their shared enemies.  People have been seduced.  Seduced into believing that if you have power, you don’t need law.  Seduced into believing that wealth and the power that comes with it are signs of righteousness.

Apocalypse means “to unveil.”  This is an apocalyptic moment not because of what’s being destroyed, but because of what we’re learning. We haven’t made the progress we thought we had against racism, sexism, or any other ism.

– Our Constitutional government isn’t a set of rules, it is a discipline that must be practiced by the governing and the governed.  It’s only as good as our willingness to live by it.
– People will trade uncomfortable facts for great-sounding lies.
– We are looking for permission to give in to our dark sides and we will enable those who grant it.

I am on the record as opposing comparing people to Hitler and the Nazis.  What I really oppose making those comparisons as a first resort, reflexively, without thinking.  I have been thinking and I want to bring up the Nazis.  Work with me. I grew up hearing that Hitler was an evil genius who bent Germany to his will through brilliant oratory and sinister propaganda.  He repeated his lies often enough that people were programmed into believing them.  Hitler supposedly carried out an evil plan on an innocent population.

I think that’s garbage.  I think Hitler told people what they wanted to hear.  I don’t think he was brilliant, just a slick salesman, giving people permission give in to their dark sides.  People believed his lies because they wanted to.  They believed it all the way into a world war that destroyed the country.

Apocalypse means “to unveil.”  The point of revealing is to recognize and resist the seduction of power.  The people in Revelation 13 marvel at the beast and worship it.  But the beast and its followers are destined for a lake of fire.  The kind of power the beast represents does not come from God and is destined for destruction.  Yet we continue to see that kind of power as worthy, virtuous, even godly.  The most important revelation in Revelation is our capacity to give ourselves over to what will destroy us.

These are apocalyptic times.  See what the times reveal.  That’s my take.  In 666 words.

Signs of the Apocalypse #1: What if Jeffress was right?

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[Image is “The antichrist drives a BMW” by gus bus on Flickr [CC BY-SA 2.0]. I thought he’d drive something sportier.]

So many comparisons between 2020 and the apocalypse. And maybe they’re right. Look at what’s happened:

  • A world-wide pestilence, disrupting the everything we consider normal parts of life.
  • So much of the west coast is on fire that we see the smoke on the east coast.
  • Hurricanes causing flooding along the Gulf coast. So many of them we’ve used up the English alphabet and we’re into the Greek. There is no plan for what happens if we use up the Greek alphabet.
  • Upheavals and divisions in politics like never before, politicians grooming their followers with falsehoods, and the two sides can’t agree on what facts are.
  • And all of this is hitting us at the same time.

I think Robert Jeffress, one of the president’s go-to pastors, may have been right in his 2014 book Perfect Ending, that president Barak Obama was preparing the country for the Antichrist.  In an interview for the National Catholic Reporter, Jeffress didn’t call Obama the Antichrist, “But what I am saying is this: the course he is choosing to lead our nation is paving the way for the future reign of the Antichrist.”  Maybe Jeffress was right.  Maybe that’s what happened.

I heard John Hagee, a San Antonio pastor, explain how all this will come about.  He said things would get so bad that we’d turn everything over to a dictator – the Antichrist, quite literally an agent of Satan, who would seem to set things right, but in fact would be paving the way for the worst time in human history – The Great Tribulation.  Jeffress makes a similar statement in the interview quoted above, “‘. . . Americans are willingly giving up their freedom for what they’re told is a greater good,’ he said. ‘A future world dictator will assume power under the guise of the greater good of the world.’”

It’s clear that Jeffress and those like him thought that Obama had done terrible things as president, things like allowing same-sex marriage and the passage of Obamacare.  We were headed to socialism in a handcar.  Then along comes Mr. Donald “I alone can fix it” Trump.  He’s the one who will save us from socialism, from foreign hordes streaming across the border illegally, from the gun grabbers, the baby-killers, and anyone else out there to take what’s ours.  We can say a lot about appointing judges and Supreme Court justices, a lot about banning abortion, and a lot about tax policy, but we are going through a time of major societal change and there are people who are afraid their world will be swept away by it.  Literally afraid.  For them, the upcoming election is literally about their survival.  They’ll tolerate a lot of constitutionally and morally sketchy things from someone who will save their lives.  Things are bad and we now have a leader, a chosen one, doing a lot of sketchy things in the name of making the country great again. A deliverer.  Do you see the pattern?

Are Hagee and Jeffress players in their own scenario?  Are they enabling the thing they warned us about?  The most ironic outcome is often the most likely.  Much of what they say about antichrist comes from Revelation 13, but there is a less-popular figure there, too.  It’s often called the False Prophet and it forces everyone to worship the Antichrist.  I’m not calling anyone any names, but if Trump fits the antichrist pattern, then we should look for a false prophet.  It’s there in Revelation.

I wonder why a movement that teaches us that Satan’s agent will work through politics has been so careless with its loyalties.  In referring to antichrist, the letter of 1 John tells us to “test the spirits to see whether they are from God; for many false prophets have gone out into the world” (1 John 4:1).  Don’t be too eager to follow what feels good, what confirms your prejudices, what makes you feel safe.  In Revelation, it’s the seductive things that lead us to our doom.  So that’s my take.  In 666 words.

Encore: Thoughts on LPYC Choir Tour – Day Two – Owning the Music

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As I’m working on (yet again) restarting this blog, I thought I’d bring back a series I wrote in 2014 about a youth choir tour, originally published in July 2014.  Enjoy.

This is one of a set of blog entries inspired by the 2014 tour of the Living Proof Youth Choir (LPYC) of Christ UMC in Plano, Texas.  It isn’t meant to be a summary of the tour, but a set of reflections prompted by events on the trip.

Tour Day Two was a Sunday.  The choir sang for the two worship services at First & Calvary Presbyterian Church in Springfield, Missouri.  Their program is a worship service, with hymns, responsive, readings, and corporate prayers in between the songs.  The pastor introduced us, then turned the worship hour over to LPYC.

I attended most of the rehearsals the week before the tour.  Rehearsals recall the old saying that if you like sausage, you shouldn’t watch anyone make it.  Trey, the director, spent his share of time telling the youth to stop talking and put away their phones.  It takes effort to pull a group of high schoolers’ voices into a choir.  Going into the tour, I felt that they knew the music well, but as I was listening to them that Sunday morning, I heard a level of mastery I didn’t hear in the rehearsals.  There’s knowing the music and there’s owning the music.

At the second service, the choir added hand motions to Praise His Holy Name.  It started in the guys’ section and rippled over to the girls’ section.  They loved the song, felt comfortable playing with it, and so they had a little fun.  This was, of course, as much a surprise to their director as it was to everyone else.  But when you own the music, you can make things happen.

Two days later, LPYC sang at New Kingdom Church, an African-American church on Chicago’s West Side.  When they sang Praise His Holy Name, the energy level in the room, high to begin with, doubled or tripled.  When you own the music, you can make things happen.  Instead of ending the song, Trey kept it going.  It was guys only, then girls only, with the piano, without the piano, then going down to a whisper and back up to a shout.  The choir agreed it was their best tour experience ever.

When you own the music, you can make things happen.  When you own the music, the message follows.

A few years ago I sent a survey to our clergy asking how long it took to prepare a sermon, where their ideas came from, who their preaching heroes were, etc.  I was especially interested in how long it took to pull a sermon together.  I thought the more experienced preachers would take less time, and when it comes to pulling the text of a sermon together, that’s true.  But the process of sermon preparation changes with experience.  All pastors read the scriptural text two to three weeks before that Sunday and then mull over the passage, looking for the message they need to bring out.  Experienced preachers know how to dwell in the scripture over that time.  It becomes a part of them.  They learn how to be open to the insights God brings over that time.  They learn how to own the scripture and it shows in their preaching.  They’ve found their voice and are confident in it.

I’ll talk about Glenn Burleigh’s Order My Steps in a later post, but let me say now I woke up each morning with “Order my steps in your Word” running through my head.  In my morning devotional time, I pondered what it meant to “walk worthy, my calling to fulfill”.  When you own the music, the message follows.  It’s a part of you like nothing else is.  That’s why we sing so much of our theology.

I’ve looked on iTunes for recordings of Keith Hampton’s Praise His Holy Name, Mark Miller’s I Believe, and Glenn Burleigh’s Order My Steps that are as good as what I hear from LPYC.  I haven’t found them.  I am, of course, completely biased, but I can’t imagine these songs coming from anyone else.  That’s the other part of owning the music and the message, you’re part of a bond.  I’ll have more on that later.

Great things happen when you own the music.  Greater things happen when you own the message.

Encore – Thoughts on LPYC Tour 2014 – Day One

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As I’m working on (yet again) restarting this blog, I thought I’d bring back a series I wrote in 2014 about a youth choir tour, originally published in July 2014.  Enjoy.

This is the start of a set of entries inspired by the 2014 tour of the Living Proof Youth Choir (LPYC) of Christ UMC in Plano, Texas. It isn’t meant to be a summary of the tour, but a set of reflections prompted by events on the trip.

The first stop on the tour is Springhill, an assisted living facility in Neosho, Missouri.  This tour will take us to St. Louis and Chicago and back.  We will sing for churches, for a children’s ministry, for a homeless ministry, and for places like Springhill.

The choir program includes Christ has Broken Down the Wall by Mark Miller. It works the way most powerful songs work, with a simple melody and simple words. It starts with a solo voice:

Christ has broken down the wall. Christ has broken down the wall. Let us join our hearts as one. Christ has broken down the wall.

The soloist this year is Natalie, who sings as if the song was written for her. I can’t listen to this song without feeling the tears, and they start when Natalie starts. By the end of the tour, Natalie will sing through her own tears.

We’re accepted as we are. We’re accepted as we are. Through God’s love all is reconciled. We’re accepted as we are.

Lately I’ve spent a lot of time in assisted living facilities. It’s a place where your limitations seek to define you. As my mother’s dementia worsened, her needs became greater than our ability to respond. My sister and I placed her in a facility that cares for Alzheimer’s and dementia patients, where she lived until her death last April. The same week as her death, my father suffered a severe stroke. He’s recovering well, but he now has to learn to live with a set of physical limitations. He’s living in a facility that can assist him with those tasks he can no longer do safely. I associate these places with limitations, with finitude.

The people here live with finitude. The rest of us know in our heads that we’re finite, but we’re able to go for long stretches without thinking about it. In this setting, I listen to a song that tells me how we’re all accepted, limitations and all.

Cast aside your doubts and fears. Cast aside your doubts and fears. Peace and love freely offered here. Cast aside your doubts and fears.

The idea for this entry came from this verse. It seems that life saves some of its biggest challenges until you’re frailest. Your limitations remind you of what you can’t do. You’ve lost friends and loved ones. It takes a lot of courage to grow old. You get to see those who embrace life even at this stage.

We will tear down the wall. We will tear down every wall. God has called us one and all. Christ has broken down the wall.

They sing this verse with such conviction that I believe they will be the ones to do it. The words change from “we will tear down the wall” to “we will tear down every wall”. The singers may be young, but they understand finitude. There are those with chronic health problems, those who have family members with chronic health problems, and those whose parents have divorced. There are those who bring themselves to church; whose families don’t share in the faith they have found. Being a teenager means wanting greater independence, but not being able to claim it just yet. These singers know about walls.

After the choir sings, the students visit with the residents.  They get along so well, everyone smiling and laughing.  The residents share their stories and the students are eager to listen.  There’s a joke that says grandparents and grandchildren get along so well because they have a common enemy. These high school students and these elderly residents have finitude in common. It’s another reminder of how important it is to have each other, how much we really need each other, how important it is for us to connect with each other.

After all, it’s “WE will tear down the walls.”

This link goes to a video of the song being performed on a previous choir tour. You will see that year’s choir performing at churches, visiting the residents of a nursing home and a homeless ministry, and having some fun.

The Big Idea

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Big Light Bulb by ariwriter on Flickr. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0. (It’s really a water tower. What’s the big idea?)

What do you do when church ministries aren’t working like you want?

When they’ve lost their momentum?

When you just want them fixed and out of your hair?

You want The Big Idea.

The Big Idea will swoop down out of heaven and rescue you.  It’s bold.  Daring.  Out of the box.  It’s the Messiah of ideas.  It saves ministries.  Everyone wants The Big Idea.

Until they see one.

Because Big Ideas involve change and have work attached to them.

Everyone should immediately fall at the feet of The Big Idea, awestruck by its bold and daring messianic out of the box-ness.

The Big Idea is supposed feel good.  It’s supposed to fix everything.  Everyone should immediately fall at the feet of The Big Idea, awestruck by its bold and daring messianic out of the box-ness.  This thing here is . . . other.  Who knew “out of the box” meant we had to leave our box?

I was part of a strategic planning group for my church.  As we looked over our final recommendations, the chairman asked for comments and Skip spoke up.  Skip had retired from senior corporate management at a major oil company.  He’d seen plenty of strategic plans.  When he saw one, he looked for fear.  No fear means no challenge.  If The Big Idea doesn’t scare you, it’s not a big idea. 

People like their boxes.  Boxes are comfortable and secure.  Who wants to abandon the box they worked so hard to build?  How do I know things will be better outside my box?  If The Big Idea doesn’t demand something of you, it’s not a big idea.

Think of big ideas in science.  Copernicus put the sun at the center of the solar system.  Joseph Lister told surgeons that infections came from germs.  Those big ideas had to unseat the previous big idea and there was plenty of resistance.  If The Big Idea doesn’t threaten you, it’s not a big idea.

Congregations expect pastors to have that next Big Idea that instantly sends people running to the ministry.  And they think it works the other way around:  if people aren’t running to the ministry, there hasn’t been a Big Idea.  That’s The Problem with The Big Idea.  Some walk away because they feel scared, demanded of, and threatened, regardless of how big the idea is.  The Big Idea is less about solving problems and more about making them go away.

Big Ideas die from lack of work.  They aren’t quick or easy.  Big Ideas are a test of your priorities, your commitment, and your desire.  And they can change the world.

“We would rather be ruined than changed
We would rather die in our dread
Than climb the cross of the moment
And let our illusions die.” – W.H. Auden

Reflections on youth ministry: School vs church

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“So, so sleepy . . . ” by Clemsonunivlibrary on Flickr. (CC BY-NC 2.0). Would coffee have helped?

We’ve had yet another school shooting this week.  Some people, like the American Family Association, say we’d have fewer shootings if we had God back in the schools.  School life would be better, the reasoning goes, if we had God, or prayer, in our schools.  In my part of the world, Young Life and the Fellowship of Christian Athletes have such a large presence in schools that I don’t think you can make a credible claim that God isn’t in the schools.  But schools definitely interfere with a church’s youth ministry.

Schools make demands on our kids like never before.  Maybe we need prayer in schools because students don’t have time for church.  Students today are more overcommitted, over-homeworked, and over-AP-classed than ever before.  And the pressure to have the right college resume is constant.  I was in the corporate world for 30 years before entering the ministry and did a lot of hiring.  Five years after you graduate, where you went to college just isn’t that important.

My first Christmas after arriving at a new church, I suggested the youth group carol to homebound church members.  The students were uneasy.  They kept saying they didn’t have musical skill, weren’t talented singers, that singing wasn’t something they did often.  That surprised me; I thought everyone caroled.  Besides, the people you visit don’t care how well you sing, they’re just happy you’re there.  It didn’t hit me until later – the standard of perfection is so high that students can’t sing for the fun of it.  Everything has to be professional quality. 

This isn’t the student’s idea.  Just as millennials didn’t invent participation trophies, today’s students are approaching life as they’ve been taught.  They have to do it all and do it at the highest level.  If you aren’t taking at least four AP classes, something is wrong.  If you don’t spend 12 hours a day at school, something is wrong.  If you haven’t graduated with enough college credit to cover your freshman year, something is wrong.  Everyone expects you to be overwhelmed and overcommitted.  We are completely bought in to this culture.  Nothing has been taken from us – we handed it over.  We don’t need to worry about keeping God out of schools while schools are keeping kids out of church. 

We see a lot in the news about teenage anxiety, depression, and suicide.

Is it possible a little less time in school and a little more in church would help? 

Getting Past the Greeters

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“Football 9.27” by Mike Hoff on Flickr. (CC BY-NC 2.0). I don’t know if he got past them.

In my feral state, I’m visiting different worship services in the area.  It’s a little awkward, because I’m not looking for a church, I’m evaluating how these people do it.  After a few visits, I decided to see how far I could get into a church before someone speaks to me.  I don’t avoid greeters, but I don’t catch their attention either.  Do they approach me?  Usually not.  You can count on being greeted if you catch the greeters’ attention; you first must greet the greeter.  I visited the outrageously huge Baptist church that deploys an army of volunteers in the parking lot to direct traffic and guide pedestrians.  There are as many people in the parking lot as there are in other churches’ worship services.  I walked past both them and the greeters just inside the door.  The usher spoke to me as he handed me a bulletin for the service.  (People are more likely to talk to you if they have to hand you something.)  The person I sat next to introduced herself and asked if I was a visitor.  The greetings that count are people who say hello when they don’t have to. 

I know a couple who spent a year touring the country by RV.  They went to church nearly every Sunday.  The congregations they enjoyed most were ones where they were greeted by people outside the greeting team.  When someone reaches out who doesn’t have to, people feel they’ve truly been seen. 

Many churches have processes in place to account for visitors.  Some ask you to sign their attendance pads, including your contact information.  Anything can happen at that point, from nothing at all to a call from the pastor to an email inviting you to the new member class.  Some offer free gifts at their welcome desk for first time visitors.  I did a highly unscientific survey of my Facebook nation about these gifts.  Nearly everyone said they would not take them.  Their reasons range from “it’s not why I’m there” to “staying out of their system” to “I don’t want something I won’t use.”  I haven’t taken any gifts because it seems unfair to take a gift when I know I won’t join the church.  Most visitors want a simple, no obligation visit to a warm, friendly congregation.

I want to give a shout out to Aldersgate UMC in Carrollton.  Rodney Whitfield and the congregation do a great job.  I was greeted by an usher.  Once I took my seat, I was greeted by the people next to me, the people behind me, and the people in front of me turned around and greeted me.  People greeted me after the service as I was leaving the sanctuary.  They have been far and away the most welcoming congregation I’ve visited.

This sounds like a game.  On one side, there’s a church attempting to contact you through systems that sound reasonable but pour time and effort into the ineffective, when what is most effective is spontaneous.  On the other side, visitors are trying to avoid being put on another list to receive emails and calls they don’t want, suspicious of being pressed into a commitment they don’t want to make, and trying to keep a low profile.

Churches should retire the phrase “radical hospitality”.  It’s been used so often for so many things that it has no meaning.  Some congregations rebranded what they were already doing, without changing a thing.  Others rolled out a new program and called it “radical hospitality” before actually carrying out the new program.  People thought, “If the pastor’s calling it radical hospitality, that must be what we’re doing.”  I know the term was used in the book “Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations” by Robert Schnase.  I haven’t read the book and may be reinventing the wheel, but here’s my take.

I moved a lot growing up.  I’ve often been the new person.  I’ve experienced true hospitality, but also false sincerity, subtle hostility, and being consciously ignored.  True hospitality comes from the conviction there is room for everyone, space for one more friend, one more place at the table.  You are vulnerable; you don’t know what the encounter will bring.  It’s an act of faith.  The others come from being uncomfortable with that vulnerability, protecting what “my church” should be, seeing a change to the surroundings as a threat.  It is also true that being a guest requires vulnerability.  Hospitality includes gratefully accepting a sincere welcome, entering the space you’ve been invited into.  True hospitality happens between two generous souls.

So maybe my game isn’t an effective way to judge hospitality.  Maybe I’ll make eye contact with a greeter this week.

Feral Deacon #3 – God sends you people

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“Is that an Aggie ring?”

A lot of great conversations start that way.  I was doing some work in a coffee house and was clearly the oldest person in the room.

I said yes, I was Class of 1982.  She was class of 2018.  We just missed each other.  She’d majored in biomedical science and was now a medical student.  I told her I had an engineering degree, but now I was a pastor so you never know what can happen.  With pleasantries exchanged, she went to the next table to study with a friend. 

After they’d finished, she came back to me and asked, “Do you have a minute to talk?”  Unless the building is on fire, aliens are attacking, or Elvis is really alive, I have time to talk.  And so she sat down.

Our conversation is private, but I do want to say this – every time someone I’ve just met and who has just discovered I’m a pastor wants to talk, their story is the same. 

Every time.

It always goes like this:

  1. I belonged to this church and was a good church member.  I gave money/time/talent and supported the church every chance I got, sang in the choir, taught children’s Sunday school, etc.
  2. But this thing happened.  A terrible thing.  And I’m devastated and ashamed.  And I turned to my church for support.
  3. But instead of support and comfort I got judgment and condemnation.  I don’t know where to turn.

The story is the same.
Every time.
Every single time.

Their questions are never:

  • Why do people do that?
  • What’s wrong with them?
  • How do they justify treating me this way?

Their questions are always:

  • Are they right?
  • Am I really who they say I am?
  • Do I deserve this?

The same questions.
Every time.
Every single time.
Every. Single. #$%& Time

Half the church spends its time unscrewing what the other half screwed.

This was a lively, energetic, bright young woman.  She was outgoing enough to start up a conversation with a total stranger over his Aggie ring.  Life hit her hard in a way she hadn’t seen coming and she was still trying to understand it. 

The proper responses include:

  • I’m so sorry this happened
  • Nothing can make God love you less
  • What happened here is part of your story, but it is not your identity.  It happened to you, but it does not define you.
  • It’s OK to be angry, hurt, and disappointed.  But not all congregations are like that.  There are congregations out there that can help you heal.

It seems that when I hear people share dramatic conversion stories, they aren’t convicted of their unworthiness by condemnation or ostracism.  They are convicted when:

  • Their spouse leaves them
  • They’re in handcuffs
  • A loved one says, “Let go! You’re hurting me!”
  • They hold in their hand the means for ending their life

The people that converted them met them in their feelings of unworthiness and showed them their worthiness as people God loves.  They have a chance to change.  That’s what the church is called to do.

Every time.
Every single time.
Every single #$%& time.

I was in that coffee shop mentally processing an interview I’d just had with an upper-middle-class church.  Ministry is hard with the well-off; they don’t think they need anything and if they do, they can get it themselves.  I was pondering the futility of pulling families with teenagers into a relationship they didn’t think they needed.  I was wondering if ministry was all about beating your head against a series of walls, wondering if this was something I should jump into all over again.  Then I met someone who was pushed out of a relationship she knew she needed.  And I was able to provide the words of support and comfort her congregation wouldn’t.

She needed to talk to me.  And I needed to talk to her.  After we prayed together, I told her I believe God sends you people when you need them. 

Every time.
Every single time.
Every single #$%& time.

[Image is “Girl in Despair” by Alyssa L. Miller on Flickr. (CC BY 2.0).]
[She is not the woman I spoke to.]

The Feral Deacon, Part 2 – What not to say

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conversation

Everyone means well. Everyone wants to make someone feel better. Everyone wants to say the right thing to bring some cheer. But we all know there are times when your words don’t deliver, even though your heart is in the right place.

I have seminary friends who have gone through a lot, enough to make me think I’ve lived a sheltered life. They’ve told me never to say, “God never gives you more than you can handle.” Saying “God has a plan” brings little comfort to families grieving a loss; it makes God sound less . . .  godly.

Here’s one more phrase to avoid: God has a job waiting for you. Just don’t say it. Where is this job? How did you hear about it? Why isn’t God telling me? Will this place let me bring my dog to work? (And please don’t tell an unmarried person that God has a spouse waiting for them.)

I thought God did well with my previous job. The church took a chance on a 55-year-old rookie youth director, I could preach now and then, and it was in the community where I lived. Either God has greater plans than these (which I hope is true) or you’re repeating poorly thought out theology. Either way, it lands with a thud.

Losing a job is a grieving process, not as intense as losing a loved one, but it is a significant loss and it is painful. (So don’t say, “God has a plan,” either.) You are allowed to talk about it. You’re not going to suddenly remind me I’m unemployed.

So what should you say? If you truly believe God has a job for me, maybe you’re the one God is working through to get me that job. The following would help:

What are you working on? I like to try out my ideas before acting and I’d appreciate your thoughts. I’m getting plenty of positive and negative feedback in the job search, your comments will not send me over the edge.

If you have time – and your greatest gift to another is your time – help popcorn some ideas. Two heads are better than one and I’ve gotten some great ideas talking to others. You could bring a brand-new perspective to things.

Can I make an introduction for you? This is the best thing you could possibly do. I had a friend who suggested I talk to someone, then called that person and told her to expect my call. Your help can build connections in what can feel like a very disconnected time.

What we’re looking for is a next step, a path we haven’t tried, a person we haven’t met, an option we hadn’t considered, something that opens a door. It’s OK if you can’t provide that. If you have no idea what else to say, say this: I honestly want to know – how are you doing?

Connecting is caring.  These are the words that deliver.  If you can think of more good words, add them to the comments below.

The Feral Deacon, Part 1–The Wilderness

DFinley2 Comments

wilderness small

I cleaned out my office and turned in all my keys, except for the front door key, because Judy wouldn’t take it.  The day before was my last work day, my last youth event.  I’ve been released back into the wild, into the wilderness – a feral deacon.

It’s not that I was bad, although I could have been better.  It’s not that the congregation was bad, although they could have been better, too.  We just didn’t mesh and staff is the only place to make a change.

I’m not supposed to be wondering what to do next, I’m supposed to be faithful to a call.  I considered this my calling, it was what I told everyone who asked, what I told all the review boards on the path to ordination.  God’s supposed to have this plan for me to follow.  So . . . what’s next?  I’m ready to “fail forward,” but I don’t know where forward is.

Here’s what I’m learning about the wilderness:

It’s the place where you grieve.  During those hard days and hard weeks in youth ministry, I believed there would come That Moment when everything would come together and I’d look back on these times as growing pains.  But I’m not going to get That Moment and that hurts.  It takes time and distance to move forward.

It’s the place where you’re sent.  Some go voluntarily, but most of us are sent.  Even Jesus was sent (Matthew 4:1, Mark 1:12, Luke 4:1).  The Israelites were supposed to be passing through, but stayed there 40 years because they weren’t ready to claim the Promised Land.

It’s the place where you wait.  You wait in the wilderness, but you have to work hard while you wait.  Not having options means you have thousands of options.  In between sending out resumes and prepping for interviews, I’ve been:

  • Going to as many different worship services as I can, including outside my denomination.  Especially outside my denomination.
  • Calling everyone I know for coffee or lunch
  • Learning about the nonprofits serving my city and region
  • Volunteering at a homeless shelter and a youth ministry
  • Very tired of hearing how God closes doors and opens windows.  (Just don’t say it to anyone ever again.  Ever.)
  • Rebooting this blog

I explained my situation to someone last week who told me, “That happens a lot.”  I’m not out here alone.  Let me know if you’re one of those people.  Maybe our time in the wilderness is another growing pain on the way to That Moment, whatever it is.

(Image is “Miscanti Lagoon – San Pedro de Atacama, Chile” by “Jim Trodel” on Flickr.  CC BY-SA 2.0.  I don’t recommend swimming there.)