I've checked this blog often (it serves as the "menu" for blogs I'm following) but haven't really felt moved to commit any thoughts to a post, and now summer is almost over and nothing has been written here since the beginning of summer! Perhaps that is appropriate, as summer is generally regarded as the season in which we step back from our hectic pace, take time to relax, and step away from the busyness of life.
That is decidedly not the description of my summer! Summer here at St. Edward's has been spent in a flurry of reorganizations, upgrades, and various events large and small. Our preschool is in the process of undergoing a re-start as "Roots and Wings Christian Preschool," the Rectory is in the final week or so of a complete renovation, the trees around the property have been cut back, and I am laboring in these final weeks of summer to finalize the selection of a worship leader in preparation for the launch of our new service schedule on September 5! All of this, while other more mundane things continue to happen--40 to 50 people show up and worship together on Sunday mornings, tithes and offerings come in, bills are received and paid, and the normal everyday business of church is accomplished.
It is in that context that I find myself keeping an eye out for God's presence. I'm finishing up Sara Miles' first book entitled Take This Bread, in which she recounts her experience of coming to faith in Christ through being offered a piece of bread at the communion table at St. Gregory of Nissa Episcopal Church in San Francisco, California--just up the highway from here. Though she takes a decidedly non-traditional route to faith, she makes some good points about looking for God in the mundane, the everyday, and especially in mundane, everyday, flawed human beings. So, I'm keeping a lookout....!
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Sunday, June 06, 2010
Leader or Nutcase? Time and followers will tell...
I'm in the midst of a challenging period in my ministry. Challenging in a good way, but challenging nonetheless. The challenge is that I've gotten what I've prayed for--a parish eager to grow and knowing that there is a clear choice between growing and thriving or shrinking and dying. Many churches, though they say that they want to grow, are perfectly happy just the way they are. St. Edward's, thankfully, is not one of them.
That's not to say life is without difficulties. We're ending the time of transition between the former Rector's tenure and where we hope to be in the near future. This summer is a turning point, a tipping point, between the old St. Edward's and the new St. Edward's. As we end the transition and look towards the future, we also are spending money previously thought of as inviolate--walled off from being touched and, in some ways, a part f the parish's identity. We're having to let go of that identity a bit, without any real assurance about the future. To add to that, we're discovering as we go that, much like when one renovates a home, as we explore further we discover issues that need to be addressed, sometimes requiring more funding than originally anticipated. While I'm sure of our direction, such discoveries nevertheless give me pause.
My seminary classmate and Bishop of Texas, The Rt. Rev. C. Andrew Doyle (Andy to me) passed along the following to Episcopal Café. I think it is really an interesting commentary on leadership:
This was personally a revelation to me in a number of ways. The biggest is that it takes almost more courage to he a "first follower" than it does to be a leader. You can be a leader and be a nutcase. However, as a follower, you have the choice to follow or not to follow a given leader. Once someone gains a few followers, it is no longer about the leader. I'd really like to get to that point, though we're still early in my time at St. Edward's. One challenge, of course, is that the priest is the identified leader and there is a continued differentiation between the priest and the lay leadership (vestry, ministry leaders, etc...) It is only when you get a large enough group to actually obscure the priest that such a person simply becomes nothing more than a rather specialized ministry leader. Food for thought about how I can become such a person.
Besides dancing with my shirt off, that is. No one wants to see that. Trust me.
That's not to say life is without difficulties. We're ending the time of transition between the former Rector's tenure and where we hope to be in the near future. This summer is a turning point, a tipping point, between the old St. Edward's and the new St. Edward's. As we end the transition and look towards the future, we also are spending money previously thought of as inviolate--walled off from being touched and, in some ways, a part f the parish's identity. We're having to let go of that identity a bit, without any real assurance about the future. To add to that, we're discovering as we go that, much like when one renovates a home, as we explore further we discover issues that need to be addressed, sometimes requiring more funding than originally anticipated. While I'm sure of our direction, such discoveries nevertheless give me pause.
My seminary classmate and Bishop of Texas, The Rt. Rev. C. Andrew Doyle (Andy to me) passed along the following to Episcopal Café. I think it is really an interesting commentary on leadership:
This was personally a revelation to me in a number of ways. The biggest is that it takes almost more courage to he a "first follower" than it does to be a leader. You can be a leader and be a nutcase. However, as a follower, you have the choice to follow or not to follow a given leader. Once someone gains a few followers, it is no longer about the leader. I'd really like to get to that point, though we're still early in my time at St. Edward's. One challenge, of course, is that the priest is the identified leader and there is a continued differentiation between the priest and the lay leadership (vestry, ministry leaders, etc...) It is only when you get a large enough group to actually obscure the priest that such a person simply becomes nothing more than a rather specialized ministry leader. Food for thought about how I can become such a person.
Besides dancing with my shirt off, that is. No one wants to see that. Trust me.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Ministry Navigation in Uncharted Waters
As we continue in the beginning year of this second decade of the new millennium, it is becoming increasingly evident that we are beginning to embark on a journey into uncharted waters. Whether politically, socially, or even religiously, we are seeing institutions, the rationale behind such institutions, and the ability to fund them adequately, rapidly eroding in the face of a substantially more diverse and less duty-bound population. This is no less true in the church--we are rapidly losing the generations that felt it was their duty to attend church on Sunday mornings and those few newcomers that show up on Sunday mornings justifiably need a compelling reason to even stay through the service, much less come back again the next week!
As an Episcopal priest, I am by definition a representative of an institution. While I do not begrudge that fact, and appreciate the support and accountability that goes with it, it is sometimes like captaining a battleship an an era of fast patrol boats--as impressive as the hardware is, one increasingly wonders how useful and practical such institutional accouterments are. The church feels like it is increasingly in need of fast scout ships to chart out the road ahead, not massive battleships to withstand the secular onslaught. We are launching out into uncharted waters with few, if any, markers to help us find our way.
It is clear that in the twenty-first century, churches will need to intentionally be places of formation, community, and service and they will need to be clear about what sort of Christian formation they are doing, why that is important, why it is important that it be done in community, and why service is both the thing that we attend and the work that we do afterward. This will be a tremendous challenge to both the church and to those of us who were trained under the old institutional paradigm. It will be an exciting journey, but not a comfortable one.
It is clear that in the twenty-first century, churches will need to intentionally be places of formation, community, and service and they will need to be clear about what sort of Christian formation they are doing, why that is important, why it is important that it be done in community, and why service is both the thing that we attend and the work that we do afterward. This will be a tremendous challenge to both the church and to those of us who were trained under the old institutional paradigm. It will be an exciting journey, but not a comfortable one.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Scapegoats and Identified Patients
Diana Butler Bass just passed along the video clip below. While somewhat dated, it has immediate application to contemporary political and religious discourse, or the lack thereof:
In my own life, I've attempted to maintain what I call a centrist stance on many controversial topics, politically, ecclesiologically, and theologically. However, just like when one straddles the median on a highway, one can expect to get hit from both directions! The video on extremism really puts out there the idea that simply identifying a person or group as "the problem" is both a vast oversimplification and also lets us off the hook. We're all the problem, and we're all the solution. I am reminded that Jesus reportedly said "take the log out of your own eye and you will see better how to remove the speck from your brother's eye." We seem to have more than our fair share of "speck spotters" and very few "log removers."
In my own life, I've attempted to maintain what I call a centrist stance on many controversial topics, politically, ecclesiologically, and theologically. However, just like when one straddles the median on a highway, one can expect to get hit from both directions! The video on extremism really puts out there the idea that simply identifying a person or group as "the problem" is both a vast oversimplification and also lets us off the hook. We're all the problem, and we're all the solution. I am reminded that Jesus reportedly said "take the log out of your own eye and you will see better how to remove the speck from your brother's eye." We seem to have more than our fair share of "speck spotters" and very few "log removers."
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
Dying and Rising, Death and (Re-)Birth
I ran across the following quote, thanks to my friend and colleague Leslie Nipps:
I've blogged before about how we might turn our churches from hospitals or restaurants to birthing centers. The feeling of a hospice is much different from that of a maternity ward! Yet it often seems as if the church is forced into, and rewarded for, helping people pass through the gate of death more easily into the afterlife rather than midwifing the seed or spark of new life. As my friend and colleague Dylan Breuer notes, it is quite expensive to do the theological education work necessary to nurture faith from birth through adulthood. The answer, while simple in concept is challenging in execution: congregations and denominations must place a high value on lifelong Christian formation and be willing to literally put their money where their mouths are.
This will mean finally burying the idea (and the ideal) that people arrive at the doors of a church basically Christian and simply need a tweak or a touch-up and then be invited to "take a seat" in the nearest pew--whereupon they will instantly tithe and naturally gravitate to joining the Altar Guild or other vital group for maintaining the church's current program. Rather, it assumes that people arrive at the door of a church, if they even get that far, utterly unprepared and perhaps even bewildered by the myriad of sights, sounds, books, and other accouterments if Episcopal Christianity. We will have to invest time, money, and patience with folks and know that we are planting seeds that we hope and pray God will grow. Gardens or maternity wards are much nicer than parking lots or funeral parlors, aren't they?
Update: The Baptists are looking for answers, too! (link courtesy of Episcopal Café)
"When we focus on things that are passing away we get scared, we get anxious, we get depressed, we lose hope; and when we focus on things that are being birthed and are coming newly into creation we get excited, we get imaginative, we get optimistic, we feel drawn closer to one another, we feel as if we have meaning and purpose in this life, and we have joy." -- Bishop Jim Kelsey (1952-2007)There seem to be a lot of things passing away just now. Perhaps even using the word that often gets translated "passing away"--dying--might even be a better way of saying it. Things are dying. Ways of being are dying. Even ways of being and doing church are dying. I've seen commentaries from the Alban Institute, from Archbishop Rowan Williams via Episcopal Café, and from a host of bloggers about the changes that need to happen and/or are happening in churches and seminaries throughout the church. Outside the church, political discourse has reached an all-time low with the radical fringes holding power and capturing the headlines. Death or threat of the death of a way of being or doing, and the fear engendered by it, seems to be the dominant theme these days.
I've blogged before about how we might turn our churches from hospitals or restaurants to birthing centers. The feeling of a hospice is much different from that of a maternity ward! Yet it often seems as if the church is forced into, and rewarded for, helping people pass through the gate of death more easily into the afterlife rather than midwifing the seed or spark of new life. As my friend and colleague Dylan Breuer notes, it is quite expensive to do the theological education work necessary to nurture faith from birth through adulthood. The answer, while simple in concept is challenging in execution: congregations and denominations must place a high value on lifelong Christian formation and be willing to literally put their money where their mouths are.
This will mean finally burying the idea (and the ideal) that people arrive at the doors of a church basically Christian and simply need a tweak or a touch-up and then be invited to "take a seat" in the nearest pew--whereupon they will instantly tithe and naturally gravitate to joining the Altar Guild or other vital group for maintaining the church's current program. Rather, it assumes that people arrive at the door of a church, if they even get that far, utterly unprepared and perhaps even bewildered by the myriad of sights, sounds, books, and other accouterments if Episcopal Christianity. We will have to invest time, money, and patience with folks and know that we are planting seeds that we hope and pray God will grow. Gardens or maternity wards are much nicer than parking lots or funeral parlors, aren't they?
Update: The Baptists are looking for answers, too! (link courtesy of Episcopal Café)
Monday, March 29, 2010
Institutional Death and Resurrection
As we enter another Holy Week, I find myself pondering issues of death and resurrection--not individual death and resurrection, but congregational and denominational death and resurrection. It seems to me that there are many signs that congregations and denominations that flourished in the twentieth century are finding it difficult to continue to survive, much less thrive, in the post-Christendom, post-modern, and post-Great Recession times of the early part of this century. Author and blogger George Bullard has some thoughts on exactly this:
The Columbia Partnership: The Coming Death of National Denominations
Among many other observations, he notes that:
Being raised in Silicon Valley and graduating from high school in the mid-1980s, I have some personal experience with the difference between large institutions who fail to innovate quickly and small, nimble companies who can adjust to changing demands and conditions quickly. For more than a decade, I've said that many aspects of mainline denominations resemble a battleship--slow, difficult to steer, but incredibly tough and resilient. There was a reason for the "battleship church"--it was seen as a source of stability, power, and consistency in a world that was anything but stable. Words like "sanctuary" and hymns like "A Mighty Fortress is our God" spoke of the church as an unchanging rock against the tidal waves of change sweeping the culture of the late twentieth century. That sense of the church a a guardian remains one of the main touchstones of many people's faith.
Yet we are now in the era where institutions must be more like powerboats or patrol boats than battleships. The Navy doesn't make or use battleships anymore. In the same way, we in the church must find ways of rediscovering that "nimble church" that is alive, vibrant, and perhaps a bit more vulnerable than the previous "edifice church." That is easier said than done, of course. Planting new churches, re-planting declining or plateaued churches, and not simply rearranging things but revitalizing the things we do is an incredible challenge. Yet the message of Holy Week and Easter is that sometimes things need to die before then can be reborn. The message of the cross is that to get to resurrection we must place our sins at the foot of the cross and die to an old life. How does that function on a congregational level? What things do we need to crucify in our congregations (without getting crucified ourselves, of course!) in order to make room for new life? Something to think about.
The Columbia Partnership: The Coming Death of National Denominations
Among many other observations, he notes that:
...many national denominations believe that restructuring themselves or re-tasking national agencies is the same thing as renewing the spiritual, strategic direction of the national denomination. No consistent evidence exists that restructuring national denominations alone leads to the renewal of these denominations. Restructuring actually is a step in preparing for another restructuring within five to ten years. Restructuring fits in the same category as rearranging the chairs on the Titanic.
Being raised in Silicon Valley and graduating from high school in the mid-1980s, I have some personal experience with the difference between large institutions who fail to innovate quickly and small, nimble companies who can adjust to changing demands and conditions quickly. For more than a decade, I've said that many aspects of mainline denominations resemble a battleship--slow, difficult to steer, but incredibly tough and resilient. There was a reason for the "battleship church"--it was seen as a source of stability, power, and consistency in a world that was anything but stable. Words like "sanctuary" and hymns like "A Mighty Fortress is our God" spoke of the church as an unchanging rock against the tidal waves of change sweeping the culture of the late twentieth century. That sense of the church a a guardian remains one of the main touchstones of many people's faith.
Yet we are now in the era where institutions must be more like powerboats or patrol boats than battleships. The Navy doesn't make or use battleships anymore. In the same way, we in the church must find ways of rediscovering that "nimble church" that is alive, vibrant, and perhaps a bit more vulnerable than the previous "edifice church." That is easier said than done, of course. Planting new churches, re-planting declining or plateaued churches, and not simply rearranging things but revitalizing the things we do is an incredible challenge. Yet the message of Holy Week and Easter is that sometimes things need to die before then can be reborn. The message of the cross is that to get to resurrection we must place our sins at the foot of the cross and die to an old life. How does that function on a congregational level? What things do we need to crucify in our congregations (without getting crucified ourselves, of course!) in order to make room for new life? Something to think about.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Technology and Sanctuary
Take a look at this video. It talks about all of the technological revolutions that have occurred in the last several decades and what is forecast for the future:
I'm 42 years old this year and I am mindful that my lifetime has seen revolution after revolution in how we get, process, and make use of information as well as how the vast majority of the rest of the world does this. And, as the video points out, the rate of change is accelerating logarithmically as each day passes.
Two things occur to me as I think about both the past and the future of the vocation God has called me to as a pastor and priest of the church. First, that this information revolution will affect some things that we do very much--people will have access to a virtually unlimited amount of information about the Bible and theological reflection and will be able to, essentially, be their own expert (for the moment) on anything that they choose to study. Second, however, I believe that there will be an increasing need for a sanctuary from the information tsunami--a place to step back, step out, take a breath, and ask some very low-tech questions about meaning and purpose.
The church may well be uniquely positioned to offer just such a sanctuary, a harbor, in which to ask those questions and seek answers that are not accessible at the touch of a key or the click of a mouse. Now all we have to do is penetrate the noise....
I'm 42 years old this year and I am mindful that my lifetime has seen revolution after revolution in how we get, process, and make use of information as well as how the vast majority of the rest of the world does this. And, as the video points out, the rate of change is accelerating logarithmically as each day passes.
Two things occur to me as I think about both the past and the future of the vocation God has called me to as a pastor and priest of the church. First, that this information revolution will affect some things that we do very much--people will have access to a virtually unlimited amount of information about the Bible and theological reflection and will be able to, essentially, be their own expert (for the moment) on anything that they choose to study. Second, however, I believe that there will be an increasing need for a sanctuary from the information tsunami--a place to step back, step out, take a breath, and ask some very low-tech questions about meaning and purpose.
The church may well be uniquely positioned to offer just such a sanctuary, a harbor, in which to ask those questions and seek answers that are not accessible at the touch of a key or the click of a mouse. Now all we have to do is penetrate the noise....
Saturday, March 13, 2010
What is God up to and how can I get in on it?
I've spent more than a little while in thought and prayer about what God might be up to in twenty-first century America and how the congregation I currently lead and I can get in on that action. It is increasingly clear to me that the biggest challenge for the institutional church today is learning how to build on and celebrate what has gone before without succumbing to either grief that much of the last vestiges of Christendom are passing away or the temptation to become a preservation society, frantically scrambling to protect what we already have against the onslaught of post-modernity.
Archbishop Rowan Williams has talked about the concept of the "mixed economy" church where the old and the new not only coexist, but actually support one another. One phrase in (not from him) in particular caught my eye:
Old and new would be a blessing to one another. So counter-cultural a notion, that both the old and the new would be a blessing to each other rather than a burden. As we move into what many have talked about as a new reformation, a new way of being and doing church, perhaps such a concept would help with this transition. Still thinking....
Archbishop Rowan Williams has talked about the concept of the "mixed economy" church where the old and the new not only coexist, but actually support one another. One phrase in (not from him) in particular caught my eye:
Very diverse expressions of church would exist alongside each other in mutual fellowship. Old and new would be a blessing to one another.
Old and new would be a blessing to one another. So counter-cultural a notion, that both the old and the new would be a blessing to each other rather than a burden. As we move into what many have talked about as a new reformation, a new way of being and doing church, perhaps such a concept would help with this transition. Still thinking....
Monday, March 01, 2010
Spiritual Feeding and Working for It
I'm continuing to ruminate on the idea of spiritual feeding and spiritual growth. So many times I think I'm laying out a spiritual banquet when I preach or teach and yet I will hear "I'm not being fed." Sometimes I think it is a lack of imagination on our part as clergy--we're so used to serving up the usual fare that it never occurs to us to add to, or even rearrange, the spiritual menu. I'm not suggesting getting rid of communion or (God forbid!) the sermon, but I am suggesting that it might make sense to push the edges of the spiritual envelope a bit and see who (literally) "bites."
I don't think it is just the clergy, however. I'm also thinking that in an age of fast food, microwavable dinners, and pre-made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, we all might be a little reluctant to work for our spiritual food. Face it, most of us are as lazy spiritually as we are often lazy physically. We want God to show up, put on a good show, give us our instructions for the week, and then disappear in a flash of light, leaving us to live and love for another week. What I suspect we least want to do is to do that daily work of prayer, scripture study, and personal worship that is central to the Christian life. Even as a pastor and priest, there are times when I'd much rather take a nap or catch an hour or so of TV (or do an hour of surfing the Internet) than I would like to engage in personal devotions.
Yet just as there is not substitute for eating healthy and getting exercise, there is no substitute for taking in healthy spiritual food and engaging in (at times rigorous) spiritual exercise. Deep down, we all know this, and yet as much as it is tempting for me as a teacher to try to "re-package" things to appeal to the fast food culture it is also tempting for me as a disciple to want that for myself. May this Lent be a time where we eschew pre-packaged and processed spiritual food for the milk and meat of scripture, the bread and wine of the Eucharist, and the sweet honey of God's spirit flowing through us.
UPDATE: One of my favorite theologians, Diana Butler Bass, collaborated on this short video, which says what I just said better than I just said it:
I don't think it is just the clergy, however. I'm also thinking that in an age of fast food, microwavable dinners, and pre-made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, we all might be a little reluctant to work for our spiritual food. Face it, most of us are as lazy spiritually as we are often lazy physically. We want God to show up, put on a good show, give us our instructions for the week, and then disappear in a flash of light, leaving us to live and love for another week. What I suspect we least want to do is to do that daily work of prayer, scripture study, and personal worship that is central to the Christian life. Even as a pastor and priest, there are times when I'd much rather take a nap or catch an hour or so of TV (or do an hour of surfing the Internet) than I would like to engage in personal devotions.
Yet just as there is not substitute for eating healthy and getting exercise, there is no substitute for taking in healthy spiritual food and engaging in (at times rigorous) spiritual exercise. Deep down, we all know this, and yet as much as it is tempting for me as a teacher to try to "re-package" things to appeal to the fast food culture it is also tempting for me as a disciple to want that for myself. May this Lent be a time where we eschew pre-packaged and processed spiritual food for the milk and meat of scripture, the bread and wine of the Eucharist, and the sweet honey of God's spirit flowing through us.
UPDATE: One of my favorite theologians, Diana Butler Bass, collaborated on this short video, which says what I just said better than I just said it:
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
The Umbilical Cord of Christianity
For many years, I've struggled with the developing tradition of inviting people to receive communion prior to being baptized. It is specifically prohibited in the canons (rules) of the Episcopal Church, and yet many churches do so. It is often referred to as Communion Without Baptism or CWOB. Perhaps the most visible example of someone coming to faith in Christ through this practice is Sara Miles who wrote Take This Bread: A Radical Conversion. She is just out with another book Jesus Freak: Feeding, Healing, Raising the Dead. I just read an interview with her and I'm struck again by how she really battles against the church's attempt to control or constrain God. I'm struck by her faith and by the fact that she accurately portrays some of the chief obsticles to that faith that lie within the church itself.
As I thought about that, I thought about how we think about baptism and communion. The idea is that we join in this meal at God's table after we have been born (actually, re-born) into God's family through baptism. In other words, we're born and then we are fed. That makes a certain kind of sense. However, if one takes this metaphor a bit further, how are "pre-Christians" or yet-to-be-(re-)born Christians fed before they are born into God's family? In other words, what provides the "womb" in which a person's first cells of faith can grow and the "umbilical cord" that provides the "nutrition" or spiritual food without which the unborn-again person will spiritually starve? It seems like, for Sara, that umbilical cord was, at least in part, communion itself.
I don't know exactly what to do with this metaphor, but I do think it is worth asking whether the church is a place that provides a safe place for spiritual growth and the "food" necessary for such growth or whether the church can only provide solid food, as it were, to those already in God's family. If it can only feed those who are already Christians, then we become essentially spiritually barren--unable to receive the gift of the beginnings of a new life that is growing within someone and nurturing it to in climax in someone's rebirth. Thomas Brackett, the Program Officer for Church Planting and Redevelopment of the Episcopal Church, talks about "midwifing" what God is already doing--nurturing it and helping it along. How might we best do that, I wonder, and what would it take to move from hospital or restaurant to birthing center?
As I thought about that, I thought about how we think about baptism and communion. The idea is that we join in this meal at God's table after we have been born (actually, re-born) into God's family through baptism. In other words, we're born and then we are fed. That makes a certain kind of sense. However, if one takes this metaphor a bit further, how are "pre-Christians" or yet-to-be-(re-)born Christians fed before they are born into God's family? In other words, what provides the "womb" in which a person's first cells of faith can grow and the "umbilical cord" that provides the "nutrition" or spiritual food without which the unborn-again person will spiritually starve? It seems like, for Sara, that umbilical cord was, at least in part, communion itself.
I don't know exactly what to do with this metaphor, but I do think it is worth asking whether the church is a place that provides a safe place for spiritual growth and the "food" necessary for such growth or whether the church can only provide solid food, as it were, to those already in God's family. If it can only feed those who are already Christians, then we become essentially spiritually barren--unable to receive the gift of the beginnings of a new life that is growing within someone and nurturing it to in climax in someone's rebirth. Thomas Brackett, the Program Officer for Church Planting and Redevelopment of the Episcopal Church, talks about "midwifing" what God is already doing--nurturing it and helping it along. How might we best do that, I wonder, and what would it take to move from hospital or restaurant to birthing center?
Friday, February 19, 2010
40 Days and Four Months
Yesterday marked four months since my first Sunday at St. Edward's, San Jose. Like many milestones, it seems like I have both been here forever and (more often) like I have just arrived. I've frequently remarked to folks that beginning my time as Priest-in-Charge in October has been like leaping on an already moving train--things are already in motion, and it is often more of a case of having only enough time for slight adjustments in direction rather than the time to make wholesale revisions to the way we do things. Summer is often the "down time" in which major changes to program or direction are best made. However, having not yet had a summer here, I'm figuring on continuing on in this "transition phase" and seeing where God takes us.
Lent is a particular reminder, however, that in the midst of the busyness of life, there is a need to periodically step back, take a deep breath, and spend a bit of time in introspection and discernment. My own Lenten commitment is do to just that--to take regular time for prayer, study, and personal worship during Lent and see where that leads me (and St. Edward's as well). In the benedictine model I'm following both personally and professionally, Lent falls during the time of concentration on obedience, which chiefly involves listening to God, to the church, and to others. Like Jesus in the wilderness, I'm often tempted by the urgent things on the "to do" list to ignore the important work that needs to be done on a more foundational level, but Lent is a very good time to recognize that temptation and flee from it. By the grace of God....
Lent is a particular reminder, however, that in the midst of the busyness of life, there is a need to periodically step back, take a deep breath, and spend a bit of time in introspection and discernment. My own Lenten commitment is do to just that--to take regular time for prayer, study, and personal worship during Lent and see where that leads me (and St. Edward's as well). In the benedictine model I'm following both personally and professionally, Lent falls during the time of concentration on obedience, which chiefly involves listening to God, to the church, and to others. Like Jesus in the wilderness, I'm often tempted by the urgent things on the "to do" list to ignore the important work that needs to be done on a more foundational level, but Lent is a very good time to recognize that temptation and flee from it. By the grace of God....
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Good News?
It has been two weeks since I last posted here, though my blog entries at the St. Edward's blog have been many and varied over that period of time. It has also been nearly two weeks since the massive earthquake in Haiti, where much of the world's, the church's, and my attention has been over these last several days. Refreshingly, we in the Episcopal Church have been diverted from our seeming obsession with sexuality to a much more productive obsession--figuring our what we can do for the people of Haiti and discovering, sometimes for the first time, the things that the Episcopal Church has been up to in Haiti and continues to be up to.
I must say that it is a huge challenge to preach to a congregation like St. Edward's while people are literally dying every second in the streets and crumbled buildings of Haiti. Tomorrow morning I'll get in my hybrid car, drive down a well-paved and well-traveled road for 40 minutes, and arrive at a church in a relatively well off area, in fact just blocks from a very exclusive part of Los Gatos. I will lead worship in a beautiful church building with nice grounds around it, and we'll have coffee and cookies outside the front door (or inside, if it is too cold). At the same time, my fellow Episcopalians in Haiti will have already awakened to yet another day of hardship, wondering where their next meal will come from (or even if they'll have a next meal anytime soon) and simply attempting to survive for the day until they (hopefully) fall into an exhausted sleep. Frankly, anything I could possibly say from the pulpit of a comparatively well-off church seems woefully inadequate!
And yet, as I ponder again the lessons appointed for tomorrow, I also run across the collect appointed for the day:
The answer, at least as far as I can tell, is summed up in one word: transformation. For those who literally have nothing, very simple things can be transformational. For those of us who have more, transformation looks a bit more complicated. If you want to know what I say tomorrow about transformation, head on over to the St. Edward's blog on Monday or Tuesday. I should have something more to say then.
I must say that it is a huge challenge to preach to a congregation like St. Edward's while people are literally dying every second in the streets and crumbled buildings of Haiti. Tomorrow morning I'll get in my hybrid car, drive down a well-paved and well-traveled road for 40 minutes, and arrive at a church in a relatively well off area, in fact just blocks from a very exclusive part of Los Gatos. I will lead worship in a beautiful church building with nice grounds around it, and we'll have coffee and cookies outside the front door (or inside, if it is too cold). At the same time, my fellow Episcopalians in Haiti will have already awakened to yet another day of hardship, wondering where their next meal will come from (or even if they'll have a next meal anytime soon) and simply attempting to survive for the day until they (hopefully) fall into an exhausted sleep. Frankly, anything I could possibly say from the pulpit of a comparatively well-off church seems woefully inadequate!
And yet, as I ponder again the lessons appointed for tomorrow, I also run across the collect appointed for the day:
Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call of our Savior Jesus Christ and proclaim to all people the Good News of his salvation, that we and the whole world may perceive the glory of his marvelous works; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.I'm pretty sure I know what "Good News" and "salvation" look like in the streets of Haiti--people being pulled from rubble, finding friends and family alive, and finding a relatively safe place to sleep, a bit of food and water, and possibly some relief from the mid-80 degree heat and humidity. Nothing more complicated than that: food, shelter, life. What does "the Good News of [Jesus'] salvation" mean to me and to the people entrusted to my spiritual care? What should it mean?
The answer, at least as far as I can tell, is summed up in one word: transformation. For those who literally have nothing, very simple things can be transformational. For those of us who have more, transformation looks a bit more complicated. If you want to know what I say tomorrow about transformation, head on over to the St. Edward's blog on Monday or Tuesday. I should have something more to say then.
Saturday, January 09, 2010
Sealed and Marked
"You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ's own forever."
These words are those that I and other Episcopal priests use as we mark a cross with holy oil on the forehead of a person just baptized. It is a powerful statement! The newly baptized person has essentially been branded (or tattooed?) with the sign of the cross, a sign that while physically invisible is also permanent. We believe that we are "Christ's own forever" by virtue of that baptism and sealing.
I'm thinking a lot about baptism because I am preaching tomorrow on the baptism of Jesus (the feast day of the "Baptism of Our Lord", to be specific) and thinking about what it means to be baptized. Much as no one remembers the day they were born (which is probably fortunate...), those of us who were baptized as infants don't remember what might be regarded as our "second birth." So our identity does not proceed from a remembered event but from an emotional affirmation of an affirmed theological and spiritual reality. What, then, does it mean to be baptized and, more personally, what does it mean for me that I am baptized?
I think it means at least three things, both theologically and personally, for me. First, it means that I am inexorably linked with God--I am "marked as Christ's own forever." The covenant of God is not one that can be voided, it is eternal. So even in the midst of the trails and tribulations of this mortal life, I can know that I am linked with God as a beloved child of God. That identity is a precious thing it a world that seeks to define us in a host of lessor ways. We are classified by our public roles as constituents, consumers, and taxpayers. We are evaluated by "what we do" in our jobs as doctors, lawyers, priests, salespeople, cashiers, managers, students, etc... We are evaluated by our family roles as parents of our children, children of our parents, and sometimes even parents of our parents in their old age. We can even by typecast by surface things such as race, body type, clothing choices, or even hairstyle. None of these ways of categorizing or judging ourselves and others reveals our most important, most lasting, but most hidden identity as baptized children of God.
Second, it means that I am linked to a worldwide community of faith that is currently locally manifested in the various people in the pews of my local congregation at St. Edward's. Perhaps the most powerful call to ordination for me was the call to form and facilitate such local faith communities, parts of the Body of Christ. I have been both supported and challenged in various ways by them--from youth groups to college groups to the church family at my home church (Christ Church, Los Altos) to classmates at the seminary I attended (VTS) to the various parishes I have served--all have served to teach me what it is to be a disciple of Jesus Christ and support me in that effort. In a world of both increasing personal isolation and yet more and more ways of connecting to one another across thousands of miles via email, Twitter, Facebook, etc... such personal relationships are more and more tenuous and yet more and more critical.
Third, it means to that I am empowered and enabled to live as a disciple of Jesus Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit living in and through me. This is perhaps the most difficult of things to articulate. It is comparatively easy to claim my identity as a child of God and a part of the church, but how does one put into words something so ethereal and yet so central to my own life and ministry. I suppose the answer to that is that I cannot put it into words but only put it into actions. How I function as a Christian, how I care for myself and others, and how I exercise my gifts and talents in service to God in the world perhaps embody more than anything else the often unseen work of the Spirit within me. Hopefully my own human failings don't get in the way of the Spirit's work too often!
So, that is a bit of what I'm likely to reflect upon in my sermon tomorrow--being a child of God, a member of the Christian community called the church, and an agent of the Spirit. Come on by and join us!
These words are those that I and other Episcopal priests use as we mark a cross with holy oil on the forehead of a person just baptized. It is a powerful statement! The newly baptized person has essentially been branded (or tattooed?) with the sign of the cross, a sign that while physically invisible is also permanent. We believe that we are "Christ's own forever" by virtue of that baptism and sealing.
I'm thinking a lot about baptism because I am preaching tomorrow on the baptism of Jesus (the feast day of the "Baptism of Our Lord", to be specific) and thinking about what it means to be baptized. Much as no one remembers the day they were born (which is probably fortunate...), those of us who were baptized as infants don't remember what might be regarded as our "second birth." So our identity does not proceed from a remembered event but from an emotional affirmation of an affirmed theological and spiritual reality. What, then, does it mean to be baptized and, more personally, what does it mean for me that I am baptized?
I think it means at least three things, both theologically and personally, for me. First, it means that I am inexorably linked with God--I am "marked as Christ's own forever." The covenant of God is not one that can be voided, it is eternal. So even in the midst of the trails and tribulations of this mortal life, I can know that I am linked with God as a beloved child of God. That identity is a precious thing it a world that seeks to define us in a host of lessor ways. We are classified by our public roles as constituents, consumers, and taxpayers. We are evaluated by "what we do" in our jobs as doctors, lawyers, priests, salespeople, cashiers, managers, students, etc... We are evaluated by our family roles as parents of our children, children of our parents, and sometimes even parents of our parents in their old age. We can even by typecast by surface things such as race, body type, clothing choices, or even hairstyle. None of these ways of categorizing or judging ourselves and others reveals our most important, most lasting, but most hidden identity as baptized children of God.
Second, it means that I am linked to a worldwide community of faith that is currently locally manifested in the various people in the pews of my local congregation at St. Edward's. Perhaps the most powerful call to ordination for me was the call to form and facilitate such local faith communities, parts of the Body of Christ. I have been both supported and challenged in various ways by them--from youth groups to college groups to the church family at my home church (Christ Church, Los Altos) to classmates at the seminary I attended (VTS) to the various parishes I have served--all have served to teach me what it is to be a disciple of Jesus Christ and support me in that effort. In a world of both increasing personal isolation and yet more and more ways of connecting to one another across thousands of miles via email, Twitter, Facebook, etc... such personal relationships are more and more tenuous and yet more and more critical.
Third, it means to that I am empowered and enabled to live as a disciple of Jesus Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit living in and through me. This is perhaps the most difficult of things to articulate. It is comparatively easy to claim my identity as a child of God and a part of the church, but how does one put into words something so ethereal and yet so central to my own life and ministry. I suppose the answer to that is that I cannot put it into words but only put it into actions. How I function as a Christian, how I care for myself and others, and how I exercise my gifts and talents in service to God in the world perhaps embody more than anything else the often unseen work of the Spirit within me. Hopefully my own human failings don't get in the way of the Spirit's work too often!
So, that is a bit of what I'm likely to reflect upon in my sermon tomorrow--being a child of God, a member of the Christian community called the church, and an agent of the Spirit. Come on by and join us!
Monday, December 14, 2009
Great Music, Great Message
As we begin to wind down the season of Advent, I ran across the following video for Canticle of the Turning, one of my favorite worship songs. It is one of my favorites both because I love Celtic music and because of the words. Is the world about to turn do you think?
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Two-track Blogging and A Suffragan Bishop
I began this blog more than two and a half years ago in March 2007 and used it in earnest during my Sabbatical in the summer or 2007. Since then, like other things, it has been busier at some times than other times. Recently, however, any readers may have noticed a drop-off of the frequency of postings. The reason for this is that I began a parish blog for St. Edward's church, where I now serve as Priest-in-Charge. I try to post there at least once a week, usually on Sunday or Monday, with a perspective on the sermon I've just preached or other items of interest. Trying to keep up the frequency of posting on that blog has meant a lack of posts on this one. However, time is not the only factor here. When this was my only blog, I freely mixed personal and parish news and interest items. Now that I have separate personal and parish blogs, I often find it hard to think about what to blog about personally that does not have anything directly to do with my parish.
That being said, there is plenty swirling around Episcopal/Anglican-land these days. With the election of The Rev. Canon Mary Glasspool as one of two Suffragan Bishops in Los Angeles. As I have several partnered gay friends (several who have been together longer than my wife and I have) I am hardly unsympathetic to the continuing quest for GLBT rights. However, I do get tired of looking beyond my parish boarders and seeing a church that seems to provide innumerable opportunities for people to take verbal shots at us. The rhetoric on both sides is as amazing as it is predicable. Frankly, I have better things to do than to get involved in the same old arguements about the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion. For now, back to cleaning my office and starting to think about a sermon for Sunday.
Update (12/9/09):
Canon Glasspool gave a very good brief video interview to the Baltimore Sun in which she asserts that she is "hardly the most liberal person" in the Episcopal Church.
That squares with my experience of my GLBT brothers and sisters--they are all over the map theologically. Hopefully, we can agree to disagree about a great many things and still come together in the name of Jesus around the Eucharistic table. The only reason not to receive communion with others with whom you disagree is because you consider yourself unprepared to receive, not because you consider others unprepared, or even unworthy. Look it up!
That being said, there is plenty swirling around Episcopal/Anglican-land these days. With the election of The Rev. Canon Mary Glasspool as one of two Suffragan Bishops in Los Angeles. As I have several partnered gay friends (several who have been together longer than my wife and I have) I am hardly unsympathetic to the continuing quest for GLBT rights. However, I do get tired of looking beyond my parish boarders and seeing a church that seems to provide innumerable opportunities for people to take verbal shots at us. The rhetoric on both sides is as amazing as it is predicable. Frankly, I have better things to do than to get involved in the same old arguements about the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion. For now, back to cleaning my office and starting to think about a sermon for Sunday.
Update (12/9/09):
Canon Glasspool gave a very good brief video interview to the Baltimore Sun in which she asserts that she is "hardly the most liberal person" in the Episcopal Church.
That squares with my experience of my GLBT brothers and sisters--they are all over the map theologically. Hopefully, we can agree to disagree about a great many things and still come together in the name of Jesus around the Eucharistic table. The only reason not to receive communion with others with whom you disagree is because you consider yourself unprepared to receive, not because you consider others unprepared, or even unworthy. Look it up!
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thanks-giving
There are many, many reflections on Thanksgiving Day on the various blogs, including a particularly good one on the real tradition behind the holiday at Irenic Thoughts, the blog of King of Peace, Kingsland, GA. I am personally thankful to be much closer to my parents this year--driving for an hour and a half to be with them beats having them drive for twelve hours to be with us! I'm also thankful for the parish I now serve, St. Edward's in San Jose, California. Frankly, given the current economy, I'm thankful to have a job at all, much less one that I love.
It occurs to me that the message of Thanksgiving is nearly the opposite of the message of the day after Thanksgiving, otherwise known as the holy grail of retail: black Friday. By the end of today, most of us will be full--full of turkey, stuffing, potatoes, etc... Even if we were presented with a fabulous feast, we wouldn't want it--we are already full. Similarly, if we are thankfull--full of thanks--we can be presented with a ton of fabulous offers, wants masquerading as needs, special deals, and wonderful items and yet still say "I'm full." We can then easily move to thanks-giving--giving to others who have less than we do. After all, if we're full, where would we put anything else? It's pretty easy to give when you're "full."
This coming Sunday, I'll be talking in my sermon about a relatively new tradition called the Advent Conspiracy. This tradition uses the liturgical season of Advent to focus people on the true meaning of the Christmas season which we prepare to celebrate--God giving himself to us in the person of Jesus Christ. Perhaps if we're feeling full enough of thanks, we might then be easily able to turn and give to others not just money, or things, but ourselves. Check it out:
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
It occurs to me that the message of Thanksgiving is nearly the opposite of the message of the day after Thanksgiving, otherwise known as the holy grail of retail: black Friday. By the end of today, most of us will be full--full of turkey, stuffing, potatoes, etc... Even if we were presented with a fabulous feast, we wouldn't want it--we are already full. Similarly, if we are thankfull--full of thanks--we can be presented with a ton of fabulous offers, wants masquerading as needs, special deals, and wonderful items and yet still say "I'm full." We can then easily move to thanks-giving--giving to others who have less than we do. After all, if we're full, where would we put anything else? It's pretty easy to give when you're "full."
This coming Sunday, I'll be talking in my sermon about a relatively new tradition called the Advent Conspiracy. This tradition uses the liturgical season of Advent to focus people on the true meaning of the Christmas season which we prepare to celebrate--God giving himself to us in the person of Jesus Christ. Perhaps if we're feeling full enough of thanks, we might then be easily able to turn and give to others not just money, or things, but ourselves. Check it out:
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Saturday, November 21, 2009
This is NOT Your Grandmother's Episcopal Church (but she's welcome, too...)
It's becoming more and more apparent that the institutional church, specifically the powers-that-be in my own beloved Episcopal Church, don't really get it. Their version of a national advertising campaign features the cutting edge ad (my tongue planted firmly in cheek) to the right of this paragraph:Contrast that ad, which probably involved hours and hours of conceptual work and much money for both design and publication, with the ad below from Pastor, Priest, and self-proclaimed Art Director Frank Logue, which likely took a few hours or less:
Where do I start? The contrast is stark: word-based vs. image-based, service-based vs. doctrine-based, edgy vs. corporate. I could go on. The last straw for me was the note on the " ad collaborative" page that said that "if you wish to customize it with your own church's address and/or web address, email...to provide the information." So, in an age of desktop publishing, Photoshop, and easy multimedia programs, we're supposed to email information to a central office and have someone else put it into the ad (no doubt at the preselected spot) for us?Perhaps I'm just a grumpy Generation Xer, but I'm finding more and more of this sort of corporate thinking that simply rubs me the wrong way. Are we a corporate giant that simply puts out the blue and red shield and expects that people will instantly recognize the brand and beat a path to our door, or are we a living, breathing part of the Body of Christ that is active in service to the world and in "working, praying, and giving for the spread of the Kingdom of God" (from the Parochial Report form, no less!)? The USA Today Ad says the former, the ad from Frank says the latter.
Perhaps more scary for me is that, for far too many churches in TEC, this really is my grandmother's church: run from a central office in New York, staid, word-based, corporate. That is not a very attractive church for me. Don't get me wrong--I love the liturgy, the depth, and the spirituality of the Episcopal Church. What I don't love is that the face we too often present to the world is that of a declining church that has beautiful buildings and baubles but not a clue about what those outside our walls are needing, even desperate for, though they may not know it. My frustration is that the church seems to fail repeatedly to take advantage of the technologies and tools available to it to get our message out while simultaneously failing to engage the world that embraces such technologies. There are many, many exceptions (take Holy Apostles in NYC, where the ad picture comes from, for instance) but too often they fly under the radar. Let us (and I'm speaking to myself as well) embrace tools for delivering our message and make sure that it is relevant, faithful to our core values, and able to cut through the maelstrom of information with which we are constantly bombarded. And then let us live that message!
Memo to Episcopal Church Center: If you really want to be helpful, put together a toolkit, complete with submissions of ads like this one, and don't bother spending dollars you don't have on ad agencies or marketing experts. Those were the same folks who brought us the ill-fated "The Episcopal Church: We're here for you..." branding campaign. Give folks the tools, maybe even run an ad contest, and get out of the way.
But that's just my thinking....
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
From Our Fears and Sins Release Us
Come thou long-expected Jesus,
born to set thy people free;
from our fears and sins release us,
let us find our rest in thee.
-- Hymn 66, Charles Wesley (Hymnal 1982)
I am begining to think about the holidays (Starbucks is already in full Christmas mode), about Thanksgiving, the "Christmas season" (not the liturgical one, the commercial one), Christmas, and "post-Christmas." As I do so, I am more and more conscious that the words above very much describe our current human condition just as much as they did over 200 years ago when they were written. There is fear, sin, and woundedness all around us and within us. There are bright lights, turkeys (some on the table and some at the table!), and an almost forced festivity that is at odds with the mood of people in a country crawling out of the Great Recession, insanely busy, and, it seems, completely bound and even enslaved to sin and fear.
In the midst of that, the church invites us to enter the season of Advent. As one Advent bidding says:
May God give us the grace and strength to look beyond the glitter of store windows and Christmas lights to the true Light that is coming into the world once again....
born to set thy people free;
from our fears and sins release us,
let us find our rest in thee.
-- Hymn 66, Charles Wesley (Hymnal 1982)
I am begining to think about the holidays (Starbucks is already in full Christmas mode), about Thanksgiving, the "Christmas season" (not the liturgical one, the commercial one), Christmas, and "post-Christmas." As I do so, I am more and more conscious that the words above very much describe our current human condition just as much as they did over 200 years ago when they were written. There is fear, sin, and woundedness all around us and within us. There are bright lights, turkeys (some on the table and some at the table!), and an almost forced festivity that is at odds with the mood of people in a country crawling out of the Great Recession, insanely busy, and, it seems, completely bound and even enslaved to sin and fear.
In the midst of that, the church invites us to enter the season of Advent. As one Advent bidding says:
As we enter, eager and expectant, into the season of Advent, let us in prayer and praise, thanksgiving and song, give voice to the hope set forth in teh Secriptures, that Christ's reign of love and light will indeed come among us. Let us offer ourselves anew as witnesses to the advent of Christs glory, seeking to bring Christs light and love to those who sit in darkness.That invitation to hope is not an invitation to some sort of plastic, fake, enforced cheerfulness, but an invition to stop, listen, and set our hope on Christ.
May God give us the grace and strength to look beyond the glitter of store windows and Christmas lights to the true Light that is coming into the world once again....
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Honoring Those Who Serve
It is Veterans Day and, for the first time in over seven years, I am not marching in the Veterans Day Parade in Albany, Oregon. Of course, the fact that I no longer live in Albany might have something to do with that. I'm now in California. In fact, I've spent much of the day sitting in front of a computer, in a warm house, with a turkey in the oven. However, I do have friends who currently serve in the military as well as friends, family, and members of various congregations I've served who have served in the military in the past. I'm conscious as a blithely blog from my comfortable chair and comfortable home with no fear whatsoever of anything happening to me that such a state of being is made possible in no small part by those who serve and have served in our armed forces. Much like a few other vocations (doctor comes to mind...) I fully realize that I couldn't serve that role, but am very glad that there are people who not only can, but actively choose to do so.
I've also been made aware that twenty years ago today, the Berlin Wall came down. As a Generation Xer, up until that time there was never a time where there wasn't a Berlin Wall, not to mention an East Germany and a West Germany. My fellow Generation Xer, Jennifer Moody, presumably just before heading out to see the aforementioned parade, has posted this reflection from her travel diary about the events of that day. I frankly don't remember where I was on that day, but since I was in college at Humboldt State University (senior year) I was no doubt either doing something school-related or (more likely) sitting in my shared house in Pneumonia Gulch (it was always shady an cold there, since it was in a valley surrounded by redwood trees) in Arcata, California enjoying the opportunity to do nothing at all. I guess some things never change...
So, on this Veterans Day, and the twentieth anniversary of the Berlin Wall coming down, thanks to all who have served, continue to serve, and, most of all, for those who gave their lives for the freedoms and security we now enjoy.
I've also been made aware that twenty years ago today, the Berlin Wall came down. As a Generation Xer, up until that time there was never a time where there wasn't a Berlin Wall, not to mention an East Germany and a West Germany. My fellow Generation Xer, Jennifer Moody, presumably just before heading out to see the aforementioned parade, has posted this reflection from her travel diary about the events of that day. I frankly don't remember where I was on that day, but since I was in college at Humboldt State University (senior year) I was no doubt either doing something school-related or (more likely) sitting in my shared house in Pneumonia Gulch (it was always shady an cold there, since it was in a valley surrounded by redwood trees) in Arcata, California enjoying the opportunity to do nothing at all. I guess some things never change...
So, on this Veterans Day, and the twentieth anniversary of the Berlin Wall coming down, thanks to all who have served, continue to serve, and, most of all, for those who gave their lives for the freedoms and security we now enjoy.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Sacrifice and Stewardship
One of the many privileges that I enjoyed through my attendance at General Convention this past summer was the opportunity to attend the daily Eucharist with my felolow attendees, to hear and sing wonderful and diverse music, and especially to hear some outstanding preachers--including both our Presiding Bishop and the Archbishop of Canterbury. However, one of the most impressive preachers was not a clergyperson at all, but a layman--Ray Suarez (of Newshour fame). At General Convention he preached a sermon which could best be summarized as "we should not apologize for who we are as Episcopalians!"
Once again, Mr. Suarez steps to the microphone, stands behind a pulpit, and delivers words that we need to hear:
After talking very much about the world we live in and the legacy we have inherited, Suarez ends with this: "...all that we have is gift. The question now is: What will you do with your share?"
As the economy slowly and painfully recovers and as the spirit of fear and doubt continues to pleague both church and world, it might be a good spiritual exercise to think about what God would have us do with "our share" of the gifts God has given to us. Do we use them as a buffer against possible calamity, an insulator against a cold breeze, or do we offer them freely to others as God has freely to us? Something to think about...
Once again, Mr. Suarez steps to the microphone, stands behind a pulpit, and delivers words that we need to hear:
After talking very much about the world we live in and the legacy we have inherited, Suarez ends with this: "...all that we have is gift. The question now is: What will you do with your share?"
As the economy slowly and painfully recovers and as the spirit of fear and doubt continues to pleague both church and world, it might be a good spiritual exercise to think about what God would have us do with "our share" of the gifts God has given to us. Do we use them as a buffer against possible calamity, an insulator against a cold breeze, or do we offer them freely to others as God has freely to us? Something to think about...
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