Praying mantis on my rear windowbuffeted by the wind
hunkers down, holds on
prostrate in the gale
hands never stop praying.
Praying mantis on my rear window
looks at me when car stops
"you gave it your best
I'm still here"
hands never stop praying.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
praying mantis
Praying mantis on my rear windowbuffeted by the wind
hunkers down, holds on
prostrate in the gale
hands never stop praying.
Praying mantis on my rear window
looks at me when car stops
"you gave it your best
I'm still here"
hands never stop praying.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
set apart
I have come to the realization that my vocation is a very lonely place. As friendly as I may be with my parishoners, as much as I may love them, as many experiences as we may share, I will always be "the pastor." I will always be the one who is scrutinized. I will always be the one who gets to receive the hot end of anger when there is no one else give it to.
For the last two years I have had a partner in my ministry. His job was to lead our Hispanic ministry. We had a wonderful relationship, both professionally and personally. The ministry was hugely successful. We had 40 people worshiping in their native Spanish language; we had 25 people in small groups during the week. Momentum was growing; leaders were emerging. The work was good. Last Sunday he and his wife came into my office and resigned with no notice. "After today we will not be back. God is calling us away from the [insert mainline label here] Church."
I was supposed to be off last week. I got a few hours away with my family screaming it out at King's Island on Monday. That was it. I am glad that I got to spend that time with my family, especially my children, before they went back to school on Thursday. I'm realizing that family is what I have on this road; family, friends who don't know me as "Pastor Daniel," and God. Other than that, I am alone. I've heard other pastor friends express the loneliness of this life, but until recently I didn't really understand why.
That may seem incredibly harsh to some, but it's the truth. When you are "set-apart" there are things you just have to do. I had to lead my congregation in lamentation this morning and I had to try to answer questions I had no answer to. I haven't even finished my own grieving, I haven't even had my own questions answered, but today was not for me. Today was for the 140 people who gathered seeking answers to questions, seeking balm for wounded spirits. For some the experience was healthy and gladly received. For others, not so much.
What I did not know was that, for one small group in the church, the rumor mill had already kicked into gear and a "counter-narrative" had already set in among those members. As I stood there trying to help my congregation grieve I had a target on me that I didn't even know about. Some members have been told that I violated confidence, that I knew beforehand that my partner in ministry and his wife were trying to discern God's will and that I outed him to his, and my, supervisory peers--causing the connection to remove him from his leadership role. There is nothing farther from the truth. But for those who had bought into the narrative, I was nothing but a liar.
I spent all week trying to craft something that would help people grieve and heal...and when it was all over I felt beaten up, I felt untrusted, but more than anything I felt alone.
As I sift through the rubble of this event, I feel so very alone. I'm tired of dumping on my wife and kids, but they still listen. I'm tired of dumping on my colleagues, but they still listen, too. I look to the heavens and ask God, "Why this? Why now?" but the only answer is silence in return.
.
I keep hearing this song in my head. A song that says, "I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known...I walk alone, I walk alone" But there's this song that we sang in worship this morning (one of the old, old hymns from our early service) that keeps rolling in my heart to counter the one looping in my head. This one says, "Have thine own way, Lord! Have thine own way! Wounded and weary, help me I pray! Power, all power, surely is thine! Touch me and heal me, Savior divine!"
For the last two years I have had a partner in my ministry. His job was to lead our Hispanic ministry. We had a wonderful relationship, both professionally and personally. The ministry was hugely successful. We had 40 people worshiping in their native Spanish language; we had 25 people in small groups during the week. Momentum was growing; leaders were emerging. The work was good. Last Sunday he and his wife came into my office and resigned with no notice. "After today we will not be back. God is calling us away from the [insert mainline label here] Church."
I was supposed to be off last week. I got a few hours away with my family screaming it out at King's Island on Monday. That was it. I am glad that I got to spend that time with my family, especially my children, before they went back to school on Thursday. I'm realizing that family is what I have on this road; family, friends who don't know me as "Pastor Daniel," and God. Other than that, I am alone. I've heard other pastor friends express the loneliness of this life, but until recently I didn't really understand why.
That may seem incredibly harsh to some, but it's the truth. When you are "set-apart" there are things you just have to do. I had to lead my congregation in lamentation this morning and I had to try to answer questions I had no answer to. I haven't even finished my own grieving, I haven't even had my own questions answered, but today was not for me. Today was for the 140 people who gathered seeking answers to questions, seeking balm for wounded spirits. For some the experience was healthy and gladly received. For others, not so much.
What I did not know was that, for one small group in the church, the rumor mill had already kicked into gear and a "counter-narrative" had already set in among those members. As I stood there trying to help my congregation grieve I had a target on me that I didn't even know about. Some members have been told that I violated confidence, that I knew beforehand that my partner in ministry and his wife were trying to discern God's will and that I outed him to his, and my, supervisory peers--causing the connection to remove him from his leadership role. There is nothing farther from the truth. But for those who had bought into the narrative, I was nothing but a liar.
I spent all week trying to craft something that would help people grieve and heal...and when it was all over I felt beaten up, I felt untrusted, but more than anything I felt alone.
As I sift through the rubble of this event, I feel so very alone. I'm tired of dumping on my wife and kids, but they still listen. I'm tired of dumping on my colleagues, but they still listen, too. I look to the heavens and ask God, "Why this? Why now?" but the only answer is silence in return.
.
I keep hearing this song in my head. A song that says, "I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known...I walk alone, I walk alone" But there's this song that we sang in worship this morning (one of the old, old hymns from our early service) that keeps rolling in my heart to counter the one looping in my head. This one says, "Have thine own way, Lord! Have thine own way! Wounded and weary, help me I pray! Power, all power, surely is thine! Touch me and heal me, Savior divine!"
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
roller coasters, redistribution, and sleep deprivation
last week was vacation bible school. we registered 115 children and averaged 82 every night. the energy was incredible; we are calling it a huge success. we managed to collect over 850 school supplies to redistribute to families in the community in the weeks before school starts. we also raised enough money in coins and crumpled dollar bills to buy some live stock for families in poverty in other communities so that they can also practice redistribution. (check out Heifer International if you don't know what i'm talking about).
in the midst of that week i had one church member end up in the hospital with a fractured pelvis (not as a result of vbs) and i had another member's child accidentally o.d. by intentionally abusing other people's prescription drugs. he was clinically dead for about five minutes, resuscitated, and is (thankfully) physically and mentally fine(meaning no brain damage) despite it all. the family is a wreck, though.
we also had a parent of one of the children in our summer childcare program gift the church with about 50 cases of cereal. not 50 boxes. 50 cases. so we began the art of redistribution. took about 8 cases to another church that has a summer lunch program for the community--they also redistribute the food given to them to the families that come to eat lunch. took another 8-10 cases to another local church's childcare center. i think she was expecting 8 to 10 boxes because she looked ready to cry when i started off loading 8 to 10 cases of cereal. when this happens i sometimes think that God is saying to us that food is part of what we're supposed to being doing.
but as i was driving around town sharing food and trying to practice the mystery of presence i began to think about church. i'm a visual person, and i love food, so i began to see broken bread scattered around my community; fragments of wafer here, fragments of wafer there; crumbs all across the collage of life.
i never used to get the benediction at the close of worship that goes something like, "our time for worship has ended; our time for being church has just begun." this past week i started to get a glimpse of "church" in my community. we think of church as that one hour a week we spend in song and silence on Sunday--we even label it as the destination ("we've got to go to church on Sunday"). we teach our children that the church is the place, not the people--folded hands, "this is the church"...pointed index fingers, "this is the steeple"...unfold hands, "open the doors and here are the people."
this week church is helping a family grieve the passing of husband/dad/papaw...helping two other families celebrate their coming together in the covenant of marriage. i'm living on a spiritual and emotional roller coaster and so very grateful that God is keeping my cart on the track...even though waking up unexpectedly at 4:00 a.m. this morning has got me wondering how sturdy the glue is today.
and yet my mind still sees broken bread scattered across my community--crumbs of grace dropped all across the collage of life--and i know that church is roller coasters, redistribution, and occasional sleep deprivation, because without these we might forget that God is holding it all together with crumbs of grace, we might actually think it was by our own power that church happens, and--God forbid--church might actually go back to just being a building we socialize in.
in the midst of that week i had one church member end up in the hospital with a fractured pelvis (not as a result of vbs) and i had another member's child accidentally o.d. by intentionally abusing other people's prescription drugs. he was clinically dead for about five minutes, resuscitated, and is (thankfully) physically and mentally fine(meaning no brain damage) despite it all. the family is a wreck, though.
we also had a parent of one of the children in our summer childcare program gift the church with about 50 cases of cereal. not 50 boxes. 50 cases. so we began the art of redistribution. took about 8 cases to another church that has a summer lunch program for the community--they also redistribute the food given to them to the families that come to eat lunch. took another 8-10 cases to another local church's childcare center. i think she was expecting 8 to 10 boxes because she looked ready to cry when i started off loading 8 to 10 cases of cereal. when this happens i sometimes think that God is saying to us that food is part of what we're supposed to being doing.
but as i was driving around town sharing food and trying to practice the mystery of presence i began to think about church. i'm a visual person, and i love food, so i began to see broken bread scattered around my community; fragments of wafer here, fragments of wafer there; crumbs all across the collage of life.
i never used to get the benediction at the close of worship that goes something like, "our time for worship has ended; our time for being church has just begun." this past week i started to get a glimpse of "church" in my community. we think of church as that one hour a week we spend in song and silence on Sunday--we even label it as the destination ("we've got to go to church on Sunday"). we teach our children that the church is the place, not the people--folded hands, "this is the church"...pointed index fingers, "this is the steeple"...unfold hands, "open the doors and here are the people."
this week church is helping a family grieve the passing of husband/dad/papaw...helping two other families celebrate their coming together in the covenant of marriage. i'm living on a spiritual and emotional roller coaster and so very grateful that God is keeping my cart on the track...even though waking up unexpectedly at 4:00 a.m. this morning has got me wondering how sturdy the glue is today.
and yet my mind still sees broken bread scattered across my community--crumbs of grace dropped all across the collage of life--and i know that church is roller coasters, redistribution, and occasional sleep deprivation, because without these we might forget that God is holding it all together with crumbs of grace, we might actually think it was by our own power that church happens, and--God forbid--church might actually go back to just being a building we socialize in.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
too many thoughts for a pithy subject line title
I took J & K to see The Incredible Hulk last night. It was a pretty good flick. I appreciated the nod toward the series that was on TV while I was growing up (with the use of the theme music in the score, images reminiscent of the series' opening credits in the movie's opening credits, a "cameo" by Bill Bixby via another television show, and a cameo by Lou F.) Those parts were well done.
I also enjoyed the pseudo Christological theme of sacrifice of personal wants/dreams/desires for the sake of others...as well as the reminder that absolute power corrupts absolutely...especially when we crave that power for powers' sake alone.
But as I sat through battle sequence after battle sequence after battle sequence...I found myself becoming numb to the horror of exploding buildings and flying bodies (not in the Superman way either) and in my numbness I wondered...when did we make exploding buildings and flying bodies entertainment? Yes, war flicks and cowboy movies have been around for a long, long time, as have television show in the same genres.
But have we gotten so far away from the Eleventh Day of September, when we sat fixed to our televisions watching the towers of Babylon fall, weeping and filled with dread because we didn't know what was coming next? Have we gotten so accustomed to war and the perceived inevitability of violence that we can watch movies filled with sequences of building demolition and not flinch at all?
Sad thing is, I don't know what to do about it personally. I love comics and movies based on comics; I'm looking forward to the release of The Dark Knight in July (it comes out on my birthday) and it's just as full of blown up buildings and perhaps even a deeper level of terror than was the Incredible Hulk...
Like I said in the subject line, there's too many thoughts rolling through my head right now to sum it up in the pithy subject line or even to offer a simple answer. Maybe this was just a form of confession, a way of saying I feel my heart and mind being changed, a hope that we will not become so numb to what's happening around us that we become apethetic and view entertainment as reality.
I also enjoyed the pseudo Christological theme of sacrifice of personal wants/dreams/desires for the sake of others...as well as the reminder that absolute power corrupts absolutely...especially when we crave that power for powers' sake alone.
But as I sat through battle sequence after battle sequence after battle sequence...I found myself becoming numb to the horror of exploding buildings and flying bodies (not in the Superman way either) and in my numbness I wondered...when did we make exploding buildings and flying bodies entertainment? Yes, war flicks and cowboy movies have been around for a long, long time, as have television show in the same genres.
But have we gotten so far away from the Eleventh Day of September, when we sat fixed to our televisions watching the towers of Babylon fall, weeping and filled with dread because we didn't know what was coming next? Have we gotten so accustomed to war and the perceived inevitability of violence that we can watch movies filled with sequences of building demolition and not flinch at all?
Sad thing is, I don't know what to do about it personally. I love comics and movies based on comics; I'm looking forward to the release of The Dark Knight in July (it comes out on my birthday) and it's just as full of blown up buildings and perhaps even a deeper level of terror than was the Incredible Hulk...
Like I said in the subject line, there's too many thoughts rolling through my head right now to sum it up in the pithy subject line or even to offer a simple answer. Maybe this was just a form of confession, a way of saying I feel my heart and mind being changed, a hope that we will not become so numb to what's happening around us that we become apethetic and view entertainment as reality.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Oooh, Big Water!
I spent thirteen years of my life on some kind of coast. I had no idea I'd miss the water as much as I do. When we cross Sandusky Bay I get giddy: "Gonna see some Big Water!" (Big Water is what Kathryn called the Ocean when we lived on the North Coast of California. She didn't like Big Water.) Then when we get to Lakeside I just go calm in my soul. I don't know if it's the spirit of Lakeside that makes me calm of if it's the maritime breezes and sloshing sounds of water on the rocks that sets me calm. I doubt it's the onset of Annual Conference that makes me calm...that would make me sick...or something. It must be the water.
You might think that coming to a gated resort community for the work of an annual conference of a church that supports the work of a social gospel would be a contradiction--and that I would be all over that contradiction--but Lakeside speaks Sabbath to me, and it speaks Sabbath to my family. (Again, not the work of Annual Conference, but the water, and the breezes, and the fact that I can let my kids be kids and not worry about them, all of that is what speaks Sabbath.)
It's good to be home.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Take me for everything...
I had never heard about this video until I searched for the song this morning.
I was on my way home from youth group on Sunday night, and this song (All the Same) came on the radio. I found myself hearing the voice of God saying some of these words.
Then I came across the video for the song, the "Free Hugs" version anyway, and found out that I'm way behind the power curve on this one because the song came out two years ago.
So, I guess don the Captain Obvious costume (again) and offer this up for your viewing/listening/hearing pleasure:
One comment on youtube says, " this video makes me smile so much I want to cry, it's wonderful how much love is in this video."
My daughter said, "You can tell this guy is a Christian." I don't know if he is or not, but I sure do see Jesus in him.
I was on my way home from youth group on Sunday night, and this song (All the Same) came on the radio. I found myself hearing the voice of God saying some of these words.
Then I came across the video for the song, the "Free Hugs" version anyway, and found out that I'm way behind the power curve on this one because the song came out two years ago.
So, I guess don the Captain Obvious costume (again) and offer this up for your viewing/listening/hearing pleasure:
One comment on youtube says, " this video makes me smile so much I want to cry, it's wonderful how much love is in this video."
My daughter said, "You can tell this guy is a Christian." I don't know if he is or not, but I sure do see Jesus in him.
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