What Is Christmas Supposed to Look Like?

After a single stint in a shopping mall this weekend (the purple candle search) I realize that God's children see Christmas in different ways:

• For some Christmas is supposed to look like a stressful, yet oddly exciting, tornado of activity: traffic, long lines, maxing out credit cards, lights, cameras, action.
  


• For others, Christmas is supposed to be a quiet day when nobody from the office calls and everybody can stay in their pjs and watch old movies and sip cocoa.
  


• For some Christmas is supposed to be more Norman Rockwell than Ricky Bobby: a perfect (or seemingly perfect) family gathering with everybody around the dining room table.
  


• For others, Christmas is supposed to be about having the latest gadget - or getting it for the kids - not only because it's fun to have it, but it's also fun to tell people you have it.
  

During the candle search, I saw a woman with four Rock-n-Roll Singing Santas in her shopping cart. She didn't speak English and she looked a little lost. But by golly, she had nabbed four Rock-n-Roll Singing Santas. And I wondered if she was buying these items because this is what people are supposed to have for Christmas in the United States. Nobody has informed her that it's okay to give socks and pot holders, or it's okay to decorate your home without loud noises and dancing elves.

Or maybe the Dancing Santa truly fed her soul. But I'm guessing not.

I know families who don't get along but spend every holiday together because That's What Families Do. In their heart of hearts, many of those family members would be happier staying home and baking cookies on Christmas morning, but they pile into the minivan with mountains of wrapped Dancing Santas and hit the highways so that they can sit at table with people who bicker. Really? Jesus came and died for this?

So, what if we shifted what Christmas is supposed to look like? What if we gave people permission to be themselves and do what really feeds their souls and the souls of others.

The souls of others is a big one because what if what feeds my Aunt Sophie's soul is the opposite of what feeds mine? Ah - such is the drama of Christmas.

But what if what secretly feeds Aunt Sophie is closer to what feeds me too than I ever realized? The only way to find out is to talk with her and listen to her and love her. And then there are also times when we need a Matthew 10 wake up call.

What is Christmas supposed to look like for those of us who are trying to follow Jesus? I think it varies among us. There's not one right way. But there are even more wrong ways.

Photo of a home in Melksham, England.

In Search of Purple Candles

I went to ten different stores today in search of purple candles for the advent wreath which tells me that:

• most people believe that red and green are the official colors of the season (not a surprise)


• candles, in general, are not must-have items unlike tree lights, stockings, and ornaments unless, perhaps, they look like this (not a surprise)


• people are cranky when they shop, especially when it feels like a chore instead of a joy (not a surprise)


• if advent wreaths were ever sold at places like Hallmark Cards, Michael's Crafts, or Joanne Fabrics, they are now only sold at church supply stores (not a surprise.)


• there are occasional signs that Christmas has something to do with Jesus (surprise.)

We saw Peace on Earth banners at the AMC Theatre yesterday, and while the message was not as direct as "Jesus is Lord" it was a nice nod to Luke 2 - although the majority of moviegoers may not realize the connection.

One of our themes for the kids (and adults, for that matter) in our church is the search for baby Jesus this season. Where have you seen images of Jesus, in terms of the decorations out in your neighborhood?

Or a better question might be: Where have you seen Jesus? Period.

No Carrots under the Microscope

The Obamas are entertaining this week, along with many of us, but their event is a State Dinner with the Prime Minister of India. There will be the usual dinner party decisions to make, but on steroids:

- their guests include Bobby Jindal and Tim Geithner. No word yet on Padma Lakshmi.

- strangers will care what the hosts wear.

- the menu will be critiqued by world class chefs.

The Washington Post reported this morning that it's not easy to entertain when every carrot comes under a microscope. This is my fear as well.

We have a crowd coming and I confess that I'm feeling the heat. I am worried that my pie crusts won't be suitably flaky and the turkey will be dry (although it will be deliciously wrapped in bacon.) I have full confidence in both our sweet potato casserole and mashed Yukon Golds.

I have conceded that the plates won't match because I don't have 18 matching plates and I can't bring myself to use Chinet. And I don't have enough silverware either. But really, who cares? (Okay, my mother would care, but she's in heaven and chances are she doesn't care anymore either.)

The beauty of having a church key is that I can borrow tables and chairs if necessary. The only problem is that they will look like they were borrowed from a church fellowship hall.

The house will be crowded. We have one usable bathroom. And our dog is susceptible to stress-related incontinence. But again, things will be fine.

Because I am trying not to care if my carrots are examined under a microscope. People who love each other are getting together and the food is secondary. The place settings are an even lower priority.

This is all connected to the church too. Of course.

I know perfect church buildings. The lawns are manicured and there are no unsightly stains on the carpets. Potluck dinners feature matching china.

But those churches are dying.

For the record, I know of many church buildings with leaky roofs and broken fences whose congregations are dying away too.

It's never about these things. It's about relationships and time together. We all know this, and yet we freak out over cloth napkins.

This is my new mantra: it's not about the pie crust. It's about whether or not people know they are loved . . . while eating pie. If the pie is perfect but JTH feels left out of the conversation, we've missed the point.

We all know this. But I'm typing it now to remind myself.

With Advent around the corner, this is a good time to remember what's most important. Not what's at the table but who.

So, who's at your table this week? And do you have a good gravy recipe?

Wedding Trends

It's a wedding weekend for our church but the wedding will not be in our sanctuary. There seem to be several new trends in the nuptials department these days - at least where I live:

- June weddings are far less popular than May or October. Third choice: November. Everybody loves those three day weekends which are booked at least a year in advance. Most popular weekend to get married: the weekend the time changes in the fall. That extra hour of sleep before leaving for the honeymoon is heavenly.

- Wedding/Reception Location combos. Maybe it's because of the recession (and you don't have to pay for two separate venues) or maybe it's just easier to get married in one room and take a short walk to the party in the next room. And it's even easier to go from Purcell to Chris Brown in the same room. But of the six Church Weddings I've done in the past year, only one has been celebrated in our church building.

I remember my mother - and every other mother -lauding the beauty and theological appropriateness of "A Church Wedding." Even though those of us in the Reformed Tradition who are taught that the church sanctuary is no holier than the church parking lot (or the ballroom at the Hilton), we Presbyterians have long equated "Church Wedding" with "wedding in a church sanctuary" judging those who shared their vows in a farmhouse by the river to be a little less holy. Or maybe that was just my family.

Beach weddings were for bohemians. Hotel weddings? My mother would have scoffed. And people who get married in grandmother's living room? They must have something to hide.

But some of the most beautiful weddings I've attended or been a part of have been held in museums and banquet halls and gardens and private homes. I like weddings in church sanctuaries too.

Not so crazy about wedding planners, but that's for another blog post.

Congratulations G & PJ!

Cake in photo is by Chocolate Dreams and Wishes of Pittsburgh.

Connecting with "The New People"

We are blessed, in our congregation, with a steady stream of new people. Ours is a transient area and on any given Sunday morning, about a third of our worshipping congregation consists of guests - meaning people who don't (yet) consider us to be their church home.

We want people to feel at home.
And while some do make connections, some don't.

There are the usual issues of people only talking to their old friends during the Passing of the Peace. Or maybe the guests are shy and give off a "Don't Talk to Me; I'm Kind of Terrified" vibe. Or maybe some people are invisible to us unless they come as a couple or with children.

But I'm learning that we need to teach our church leaders how to welcome people in the Spirit of Christ. Sometimes, even with the best intentions, we misunderstand the point. For example:

Let's say that Joe the Longtime Church Leader invites some of the new guys over for darts and chili Friday night.

• Some men accept the invitation and enjoy themselves. Great!


• Some accept the invitation but probably won't do darts again next week because it wasn't really their thing. Or they have other things to do on other Friday nights. This shouldn't be a problem . . . except for the fact that Joes takes it personally, and he continues to phone and send emails each week reminding them that "the guys are doing darts and chili again this Friday." And he's hurt or angry that they haven't come back. They start to avoid Joe and feel uncomfortable when they run into him at Blockbusters.


• Some didn't accept the invitation at all, and they get even more notices about upcoming dart and chili nights to the point that what feels like friendliness and welcoming to Joe feels like nagging to the guys. Maybe they stop participating in church life altogether because Joe won't let it go.

It has become about Joe and not about caring for the new guys. Or maybe it was always about "strengthening the men's group" and not about loving people simply for the sake of loving them, rather than for what they can do for us.

Part of my fall seasonal responsibilities have involved contacting church members who haven't been around much over the past year. We've missed them in worship. Or we've noticed they haven't been bringing their children to classes.

And while some people have either moved to other congregations or out of the area, I've heard quite a few stories from people who are still very much in the neighborhood, but have stayed away because a church leader - probably attempting to include them - made them feel guilty or uncomfortable or nagged.

There are at least two ways to connect with "the new people" and - very simplistically - there is a good way and a not-so-good way:

Good: Strive for authentic, organic relationships. Ask them about their lives, their interests, their work. Ask them because you want to get to know them, not so that you can get something from them. Maybe you'll become close friends and maybe you won't, but you care about them and that's what matters.

Not so Good: Recruit them to volunteer for jobs nobody else wants to do, not because they are gifted or called to do those tasks, but because you need some warm bodies. Invite them to join your Circle, book club, Bible study, small group - not because you want to get to know them but because you're in Survival Mode and slightly panicked that your organization is dying. Invite them over to serve your own purposes.

Friends, the sooner we learn that church is not about us (it's about growing the Kingdom of God) the sooner we will become the Body of Christ.

But how do you train people who already consider themselves to be sound caregivers and church leaders that some of what they've been doing is actually driving people away?

I would want to know if my efforts were actually doing the opposite of what I'd hoped to accomplish. What about you? And how would you tell those who don't want to know?

The Pose

At the risk of sounding too political:
When I first saw the cover of today's Newsweek I agreed with those who cried "foul."

It seemed mocking, if not sexist, to put a cheesecakish photo of the former governor of Alaska on the cover of a major news magazine. But then one wise person in my household said, "Don't forget that she posed for that picture for Runner's World. If she'd wanted to convey strength, she could have posed making muscles or actually running. But she chose to pose arms akimbo with her hips shifting to one side."

This is not like the photo of Barack Obama emerging out of the surf on vacation in Hawaii. He might have been aware of paparazzi. But she was actually posing. Ugh.
I once worked with someone who reminds me of Sarah Palin. She was physically attractive and had a knack for zoning in on the most powerful man in the room - especially a church meeting room. She flirted and charmed. It was kind of gross. But she had quite a few fans - both male and female.

My seminary never provided classes on decorum or how to dress as a pastor. I remember one female seminarian who wore stilettos and micro-mini-skirts. To her field education church. As we piled into cars early every Sunday morning in the seminary parking lot, we watched her get into her car too, and we wondered how she was perceived by The Church Ladies in her field education congregation.

How do you take someone seriously as a spiritual leader who has not merely noticed her own sex appeal but flaunts it? How do you take someone seriously as a political leader who has not merely noticed her own sex appeal but flaunts it? Am I a prude for finding this icky?

Governor Palin may or may not be a viable political leader. But - on behalf of my sisters everywhere - I'd ask her - and all of us - to remember that posing is dangerous business. God has called us to display something higher.

Cutting Off the Luddites

Our Presbytery is no longer sending snail mail.

No more meeting packets through the USPS. No more minutes. No more directories. Okay, the most recent Presbytery Packet came through snail mail. But no more!

In reality, there will probably be a piece of paper mail sent out every once in a while. But we are in the process of going wholly digital, thanks be to God.

This will be frustrating to those who have dug in their heels against electronic communication.

From a conversation I recently had:

Me: I'll send you email confirmation.

Friend Who Refuses to Use a Computer: I don't believe in email.

Me: You don't believe in it?

FWRTUAC: People have stopped talking. I don't like the idea of doing everything without talking. Some information is meant for conversation. I don't want my daughter to get engaged over the internet.

Me:

I've found digital Luddism to be a divisive issue in our congregation, but decreasingly so. And it's not about age or generation. There are at least two 90-somethings in our congregation who regularly use email.

Maybe it's about fear, or control, or simply sorrow for times gone by. But one day soon, everyone will be expected to have email, at least in urban and suburban parts of the country. One of the ministries that churches could provide, perhaps, to low income or rural parishioners is a computer and email service as a way of staying connected with isolated people. It's also a ministry to alleviate the digital divide. Every school child should have a computer in her/his house.

Social media is anything but stagnant. And it feels hard to keep up with the newest thing. And what feels new to some (Twitter) is "what old people do" for others. When your grandmother gets a Facebook account, it feels a little strange. And yet . . . good for her. She is trying to connect with people where they are in ways they want to connect.

We send less than 20 paper newsletters out of our church office these days. Everybody else gets theirs digitally with the press of a button. We've tried to connect with the FWRTUAC crowd in ways they still want to connect: with paper and a stamp, even it is labor intensive and frustrating.

Imagine though: What we would do if a member of our congregation announced that he was not interested in having a phone? That - from now on - he expected someone to come by his house to talk with him face to face about volunteering as an usher or volunteering to lead the Bible study next week?

Most of us obviously can't do that. (Although I admit that I have actually driven to the home of a FWRTUAC to hand deliver information that everybody else got on email.)

Maybe it's easier for a Presbytery or a Diocese or an Association to cut off the Luddites than for a congregation to announce: no more snail mail. Congregations are pastoral organizations before they are administrative organizations. But the day is coming when we will expect everyone to be digitally connected.

Has your congregation made this leap yet?

Image of Luddites - named for English folklore hero Ned Ludd who was an anti-industrialization activist - destroying a loom.

This I Believe. Why Don't You?

• How much does it bother you if someone doesn't believe what you believe, especially about God?


• What if they worship under the same roof where you institutionally worship?

Let me try to explain this with pasta. (Stay with me here.)

I make very good lasagna but there is not a drop of Italian blood in me, as far as I know. My pasta cooking abilities were not inherited from a long line of relatives from Italy. But still, my lasagna's pretty good.

Long ago, an old (Italian) boyfriend, early in our relationship, raved about his lasagna and announced he was going to show me what real lasagna looked and tasted like. It felt more like a challenge than an invitation. But I was game.

He usually didn't cook much himself, but He Had Recipes. And so he cooked up some lasagna for this lasagna baker, and frankly it wasn't an easy evening. First of all, he slathered sauce directly onto the (clean) kitchen counters and slid the (homemade) noodles all around in the sauce before placing them in the casserole dish.

"What in the world are you doing?" I said.

"This is how you make lasagna," he said.

"No it's not," I said. "This is how you make a mess."

In the end, the lasagna was good even though it was put together differently than I would have done it. The taste was a little different (sausage versus ground beef) and yet - in the end - I liked mine better. Eventually, we broke up about something more important than pasta.

I watch us, in the church, discuss theology and what is important to us and what is not. Jesus is Lord is the most basic of creeds and even if we disagree about whether salvation is universal or not, we can agree that Jesus is Lord.

But I find myself feeling defensive ("This is how you make a mess.") when talking with friends who compare their long-held theological beliefs to different beliefs within the same church. And it goes both ways: more traditional Christians have told me that they have felt their beliefs dissed by emerging church Christians and visa versa.

• Is one Bible study better because it is led by a seminary trained pastor? Or is the study led by several self-taught leaders just as good, or good in a different way?


• Is the prayer more glorious when a trained theologian wrote it down the night before? Or is it more faithful when a person prayed extemporaneously?


• Is the lasagna better when made from a old recipe from Sicily or is it more deliciously made by a white girl who happens to like extra cheese?

And why does our way have to be the only way or the best way?

Basically, it's about idolatry, I think. (Or at least I've got idolatry on the brain after listening to this at Holy Grounds last night.) We idolize our own way of being the church.

Just some Monday Morning thoughts from a pasta lover.

Precious

Go see the movie.

I had braced myself because I don't like grittiness in movies. Life is gritty enough. But this is an important movie and not just because it offers a wealth of sermon illustrations.

It reminds us:

• that some people are invisible to us (which is awful.)
• that we cannot save people but we can give them a break.
• that even if the church is around the corner, some won't ever come inside.
• that we belong to God and no one else.

Really good movie.

A Philippians 4:7 Day

I woke up this morning feeling a deep peace. It's my day off and yet - as everybody knows - a day off is not always a stress-free day.

Without going into every detail . . .

• HH and I are wondering how we will pay for 3 kids in college (although we are still glad we had them this close together)


• There are personnel transitions in our work lives (and seminary seemed to skip over the fact that personnel issues often rule a pastor's day)


• People we love have left our church (which is necessary and good, but involves grieving)


• I need to watch "Precious" this weekend (because it's got Imago Dei written all over it) even though it will be excruciating


• Friends are going through scary health issues

And yet I'm feeling spiritually Michelin Man-esque. Witches have their "cone of power." And Christians have Philippians 4:7.

But I'm finding that confidence is key.

Self-confidence is important: that we trust in what we know, how we look, where we are. But, as Andre Agassi said on Morning Joe this morning (like I said, it's my day off): you can be married to a beautiful person (Brooke Shields) and be famous (world class tennis player) and be rich (endorsing Canon cameras), but that doesn't mean you aren't miserable deep inside and secretly doing crystal meth. Image isn't everything after all.

This remains my favorite statement of faith. Things may be good or things may be not-so-good. But I basically have confidence in Jesus to work it out. It's that kind of day today, and I'm very grateful.

Image is The Michelin Man, my model for ministry (today).

Really?

I hear the voices of Seth and Amy in my head.

The Washington Post reported this morning that the Archdiocese of Washington will be pulling their social services programs out of Our Nation's Capital (actually, in this case, 5 Maryland Counties along with the District of Columbia) if the DC Council votes to approve same sex marriage. Really?

I understand that they would be against same sex unions. That is their choice, whether they stand against this on theological, political, or other grounds. But do they intend to punish the homeless and others in need because the DC Council wants to legalize same sex marriage?

I know some wonderful people who work for Catholic Charities in DC. I really want to understand this.

One Archdiocese spokesperson said, "The city is saying in order to provide social services, you need to be secular. For us that is really a problem." This confuses me.

Is she suggesting that they can't tutor people who need to learn English because two men are getting married in the courthouse down the street? I really don't understand. I'm not trying to be difficult or snarky here.

We have a computer training program for adults in our church building and most of our students happen to be Muslim. They are our neighbors, but we have very different spiritual beliefs.

But while we believe different things about Jesus, our particular congregation's belief about Jesus teaches us to serve even (especially?) those outside the boundaries of the church. The point is that they need services that we can provide. And I have witnessed several incidents in which it doesn't go unnoticed by our Muslim friends that, because we offer this program, it proves that not all Christians distrust or hate them. Some want to unconditionally love them. Really.

I would get it if the Catholic Archdiocese was being forced to officiate in same sex wedding services. But could someone explain why they would choose to pull their social services?

Church Discipline 101

Why do we, in the church, believe that being "nice" = being faithful?

A group of clergy and elders were talking today about the need to teach rudimentary discipline in our congregations. I'm not talking about randomly shaking fingers at each other that we judge to be sinful/spiritually inferior.

I'm talking about squelching gossip, misinformation, and other evil talk.

Just heard today about a church elder in a neighboring congregation who loudly declared in a Bible Study:

"All of our pastors may have gone to seminary but they are not very smart or well-educated."

And what did the others in the Bible Study say? Nothing.

Also heard about the person who stood in a congregational meeting and made a dismissive retort to a teenaged member's comment. And the moderator of the meeting said: Nothing.

Also heard about the meeting in which a church member announced that "the pastors never do pastoral visits anymore and when (so-and-so's family) had an emergency, not one pastor went to visit them" - - which was totally erroneous. And what did those who know differently say? Nothing.

Also heard about the post-worship church luncheon when a couple spent a good part of the lunch conversation trashing church staff members. And the others around the table said: Nothing.

Why? Because . . .

• It wouldn't be nice to challenge them.
  
• I didn't want to rock the boat.
  
• I was so stunned, I didn't know what to say.
  
• She's my friend and I didn't want to make a scene.

Sorry, but we who consider ourselves "church" together are obligated to hold each other accountable when we misbehave. This is what it means to be a community of faith.

I remember once saying something stupid and one of the elders called me on it. She loves me and I trust her and she was right. I quickly took my comment back.

Sick congregations endure parking lot gossip. Unhealthy churches tolerate disparaging remarks about members and leaders. Dying churches are afraid to discipline each other in love, for fear the bullies will leave.

Maybe they need to leave. Church discipline is an essential part of all healthy congregations. And it's not just about sexual or financial misconduct.

It's not about being "nice" either. It's about treating each other in the image of Christ.

Image is from Gossip Girls that featured a college freshmen menage a trois this week - a subject that requires its own post, don't you think?

Christian First?

To all followers of Jesus: Are you a Christian first or an American first?

According to the colleagues of Nasim Hassan, there were clues that something was awry in this Army psychiatrist, including a comment Hasan made at least once that he was a Muslim first and an American second. Personally, this does not strike me as extremist.

I am a follower of Jesus first and an American second. Or maybe even third.

When visiting the Middle East last summer I found that most people of faith self-identified by their religion first. For example, Christian Turks, Christian Syrians, and Christian Jordanians introduced themselves as Christians before they identified themselves as citizens of a particular country.

Maybe it was obvious that they were citizens of those countries (since that's where we were) and it seems superfluous to identify themselves nationally, while being Christian in predominantly Muslim countries was not so obvious. I have military friends who have served in Bahrain, Iraq, and Afghanistan who tell me that people identify as "Muslim" or "Christian" first in those countries. Religious identity trumps national identity.

We flag-waving Americans (USA! USA!) are ostensibly overwhelmingly Christian in terms of religious affiliation. Sometimes our government policies conflict with our religious beliefs.

My hope would be that our own political beliefs are informed by our religious beliefs, but sometimes we seem to start with the politics rather than the other way around.

How do you identify yourself? Are you a Christian first? Are you an American first?

Two Christian boys in Damascus 2009. Photo by LL

New Reasons to Believe

I'm finding new reasons to believe in God every day. One of the newest: watching people of different faiths pulling together in difficult times.

"Killers do not deserve the honor of a religious label." Eboo Patel wrote this for the Washington Post here last week. But the problem is that everybody on the planet reported that this man is Muslim implying a connection between his faith and his terrible crime in Ft. Hood.

I agree with Patel: A Muslim didn't commit this crime. A disturbed man committed this crime. He could have been a Christian or a Jew or an atheist. But the fact that he happened to self-identify as a Muslim has nothing to do with anything except for the fact that it perpetuates misunderstanding.

He did not allegedly shoot people because he is Muslim. Killing innocent people is anathema to the most basic principles of Islam. He allegedly did this because he is deeply disturbed.

This is a good time to support the Muslim community as they are receiving some destructive publicity because of a very troubled person. But there are new reasons to believe that God can use even this to bring people together.

Art is Reasons to Believe by Chris Roberts-Antrieau whose fantastic work was displayed last weekend at the Washington, DC Craft Show. Buy her stuff.

What Do People Think When They Hear "Church"?

Yesterday, a friend referred to people who had been loving to her in difficult times this way:
"They were like church for me."

She was referring to the federal workers in her husband's office.

Out in the world, a reference to "church" often conjures up a variety of images:

• pews and stained glass windows

• older ladies and gentlemen singing old time hymns

• requests for money to paint the steeple

• judgmental people

• preachers who say one thing and do another

• meetings

Those of us who are in the church and love the church see different images:

• mission trips to help flood victims

• friends praying together and reaching out

• stirring music, moving messages, inner peace

• laughing people who love being together

• meetings (okay, yes, we have lots of meetings)

We also have those other features too, perhaps, but we who are part of the church have experienced the wonderful aspects of being the church too. Most of the world does not.

But imagine if "Church" became a term to describe all that is unconditionally loving and generous to those in need:

About a stranger who sat with someone on the side of the highway until the tow truck came:
She was like the church for me.

About the neighbor who drove his elderly friend to the doctor's office every Friday:
He was like the church for me.

About the social service agency that provided shelter and food for a house fire victim:
They were like the church for me.

Imagine if people pictured "the church" when wonderful things happened? This is what the church is like. This (colleague, nurse, PTA volunteer, barista, bus driver) was like the church for me.

Things would be different.

Are You Smarter Than a Pastor?

I just read an interesting sermon idea for worship this Sunday:

Play "Are You Smarter Than a Pastor?" by having the preacher/pastor sit on a stool in the chancel and have people ask him/her trivia questions about the scripture lesson. A variation on this is to pick three members of the audience - er, congregation - and see if they are "smarter than the pastor."

Yikes.

We seminary-trained clergy folk consider ourselves to be smart. Presbyterians, especially, tout our academic achievements:

We can exegete scripture in Greek and Hebrew.

We've jumped through ecclesiastical hoops involving interviews, oral exams, written exams, and counseling.

But there are many smart people in our congregations and - if they have been encouraged and sometimes even when they haven't - they also have theological chops. They've pondered the mysteries of relationships and prayer and grace and forgiveness. And out of their experience, they have something to say.

I realize that this changes our historical understanding of The Sermon.

But it's been a while since The Sermon was about teaching doctrine, at least in many churches.

It's been a while since the preacher said, "This is what we should believe about that" at least in our church.

And it's been a while since we've observed such a variety of faith experiences, traditions, and belief systems among those joining us for worship on Sunday mornings.

It's been a while since we shifted to preaching as spiritual direction, more dependent than ever upon the Holy Spirit to speak to people where they are.

What would happen if we allowed faithful lay leaders to preach The Sermon? In our evening (emergent church) worship gathering, this is what happens almost every Sunday. We call it the content or the message, though.

In the past year, people have led conversations/content on:

• what the Bible says about stewardship
  
  
• the history of Lent
  
  
• how to minister to someone who's lost a loved one


• how to interpret the many voices we hear and how to discern which is God's voice
  
  
• what an inner city congregation is doing to reach out to the neighbors


• the parable of the talents


• resting in God
  

The list is much longer than this, but my point is that the leader is rarely a seminary educated person. And yet, because this is a conversation and not a sermon/lecture, people are free to say, "I see it differently" or those with special training/insights can add their two cents.

Maybe we are unusual because we have some very smart people at our 6 pm worship service, and on a given night, several are actually seminarians or divinity school graduates. These are people interested enough in the Bible to ask me to teach them how to do Greek and Hebrew word studies online.

My (now, sadly, former) colleague M. once told me that the difference between our morning worship service - which is traditional - and our evening worship service - which is emergent - is that, in the morning it's as if the preacher prepares a feast for a crowd. Or at least she tries to. Some will leave still hungry and some will be filled. Some tasted their favorite foods. But sometimes they will get junk food and sometimes they will get red meat. But the preacher will exhausted by mid-afternoon because she whipped up the meal - essentially- by herself. Yes there was music and hospitality, but she was in charge of The Sermon and the prayers.

In the evening - following this analogy - the meal is potluck. Someone brings the main dish but others bring the complimentary side dishes. In other words, someone might be slated to offer content on, say, The Good Samaritan but others will contribute their own ideas and even corrections.

Welcome to the post-modern church.

Many of us will say that "untrained" laypeople are not equipped to preach, nor are they orthodox or doctrinally sound or talking the party line. Their message is relativistic and simplistic and we can't control it.

Some might even say "Well maybe we don't need seminary-trained pastors anymore." My opinion is that we will still need trained followers of Jesus to equip other followers of Jesus.

There are many who are much smarter than the pastor in certain areas: technology, international development, graphic design, surgery, architecture, geology. And that is what makes a congregation so rich. Everything speaks to God's glory. It's important to share how God is working in those realms too, and in fact, it enriches all of us to hear about it.

I wonder how much longer we will have professional preachers and pulpits. I say this as a person who loves to preach. It's my favorite thing.

So, what do you think?

Image is photo of the seminary library in Ischia Ponte, Italy.

Institutional Members versus Relational Members

Continuing yesterday's conversation . . .

we have new members joining this month although they've been members for a while now. What I mean is that some of them will choose institutional membership (making public professions of Christian faith, adding their names to church rolls) in addition to their current membership (having relationships with each other and God through our particular congregation.)

Like many churches, we have institutional members whom we barely know.

And we have relational members whom we know well but - for a variety of reasons - they don't care about voting in meetings, holding elective office, having their names on lists in registers.

And we have members who are both.

There are still some people whose names are on our church records as "members" but almost nobody knows them. They participate maybe once a year, stopping to check in with me as they leave the morning worship service to catch up briefly. Sometimes they never connect with anyone but the pastor. Sometimes they fall through the cracks and nobody notices they are not participating.

I don't care anymore how many institutional members we have. People still ask, "How big is your church" as if saying "1000 members!" would so impress them, even if they were members in name only.

I care very much that we have as many relational members as possible. That would be the point. We want people to have a relationship with God through Jesus Christ. We want people to have relationships with each other.

If we get big enough, they can't all have personal relationships with the pastor (and sometimes they leave the church because of that.) I love it when I see other people connecting, knowing each other's issues, caring about each others LSATs, grandchildren, tonsilectomies, adoption plans, gluten intolerance, sick sister, new puppy, fertility treatments.

This is the church: We grapple with life's issues together in the context of faith. But we have to know each other's life issues in order to grapple, or else church is quite the solitary endeavor.

I can do solitary church alone on my sofa. But then I would miss experiencing the community that cares about TBC's college applications along with me, that pools resources with me to support J. doing mission work in Australia and B. whose house burned down last month, that asks me how things are going now that M. has moved to Pittsburgh, that visits homebound members and takes them communion with chunks of bread from the morning's sacrament. This is the church that supports each other personally so that we can be the church beyond the walls of the building.

I believe people want this. They don't care about having their names on a list somewhere unless it's a list that good friends can call if there's a problem or a great piece or news to share.

A woman joined for worship us last Sunday evening after the dinner, after the message, after the prayers, after communion. She got lost or something and by the time she arrived, we were posing for pictures in the "photo booth" left over from the previous night's Halloween Party. From the photo above, you'll never guess which one she is, because she looks like she belongs. And she does. Our newest member.

Photo of Sunday evening worship with assorted members posing as pirates for no apparent reason. Only 5 of these people can actually vote in an official meeting of the congregation. The others are happy trying to figure out how our faith and life connect. And posing for silly pictures.

Have To versus Want To

It's that time of year again: families are making holiday plans. Just sent $ to FBC to buy tickets for December flight home and to SBC for train ticket before Thanksgiving, hoping it's not too late.

So . . . after 110 (thankfully free) cell phone minutes talking with BSE today, I've figured out some things about family dynamics and the institutional church. Stay with me here.

Every family has their Institutions. Some are great:

• the family camping trip each summer,


• the annual over-the-river-and-through-the-woods trek to Grandma's house for Thanksgiving,


• Aunt Gladys' baked beans for Super Bowl Sunday.

Whatever.

But maybe the institutions aren't so great:

• Junior always gets poison ivy and Mom - who is allergic to bees - lives in constant fear of being stung to death, even though Dad insists that "This what families do. They camp."


• Grandma is mean.


• Aunt Gladys drinks way too much and her whole personality turns scary.

Each year, I observe families who feel pressure to "go home" for the holidays even though it is stressful at best and toxic at worst. But they do it every year because It's An Institution: families are supposed to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with each other. Norman Rockwell taught that this is how to live our lives. We sit together at a big table and spend the day together.

That's What a Family is Supposed to Do. Some would say that you are not a family unless you are spending the holidays together.

Call me crazy, but this is a crock. It's not about Institutions. It's about Relationships.

I could go for decades (and I have) without spending Thanksgiving and Christmas with my siblings but it doesn't matter. Our relationships make us a family. Family institutions do not.

How does this relate to the church?

Someone told me once that our church was not a real church anymore because we didn't have 9:30 Sunday School for children. When I told him (a man with no young children) that our parents didn't want 9:30 Sunday School and that they themselves had requested a program for their children during worship several years ago, he did not back down.

He said: 9:30 Sunday School is What a Church is Supposed to Do.

He believes you are not a church unless you have 9:30 Sunday School. And Bible Studies led by the pastor. And pews in the sanctuary. And people dressing up for worship which must be at 11:00.

This from a person who would never attend a Wednesday night Bible study while still insisting We Must Have One. Because that's what churches do. I disagree.

It's not about Institutions. It's about Relationships. Think for a moment of the things we love about our church. If those things were gone, would we still be the church?

One of the downfalls of The (Formerly) Mainline Church has been that we have perpetuated many of the institutions that historically worked, even if they don't work anymore. And it's killed us. We have clung to The Annual Pancake Supper even though only a handful of people attend each year. We have hesitated to rearrange the furniture even though the original fellowship hall layout isn't conducive to the way we spend time there anymore.

We have refused to let go of certain organizations or programs even when they stopped being effective (i.e. feeding people spiritually, making disciples, equipping saints.)

As I shared in a previous post, our congregation enjoyed a lovely chili dinner sponsored by our deacons last winter. It was really fun. The only "program" was hanging out together and getting to know each other.

The next Sunday, someone suggested to me that we make it an annual affair, which speaks to how "successful" it was. But the problem with institutionalizing the chili dinner - or any church program - is that the event could turn into a "have to" instead of a "want to." Instead of being fresh opportunity to get to know each other, it becomes a requirement or another program that someone will have to be convinced to head up.

Maybe there will be another chili dinner and maybe there won't. But my hope is that - if it's scheduled again - it will be because we want to get together and not because it's written in stone on the calendar.

Church Institutions, like Family Institutions, can be spectacular. They can create wonderful memories and bolster community. My children remember funny Christmas pageants and beautiful candlelight services. But their comfort and joy are rooted in their relationships with the others with whom they've experienced those events, not in the fact we have them every year.

Sometimes we do things every year that bring tremendous anxiety. Why?

So as we make our family plans, as we make our church plans for the holidays, I'm trying to be more intentional. It's about relationships and spiritual nourishment. It's not about doing something because we must. But it will make the people angry who don't have the relationships.

Top image is not Norman Rockwell. Bottom image is Christmas Eve at FPC.

Do you still read newspapers? On news print?

I remember a colleague sharing that her 30-something associate pastor had told her he doesn't subscribe to a newspaper, a disclosure met with disdain and a trace of intellectual superiority. How can he preach and teach when he doesn't know what's going on in the world?

"Maybe he reads his news on the internet," someone suggested.

"Well then he's missing out on some big stories," she responded.

It's true that when I read news on the internet, I miss those small articles on page C3 and A20 about the mysterious death of rare oryx at the zoo and the typhoon that struck the Philippines. And reading the newspaper on a Kindle is annoying.

But I'm pondering canceling my subscriptions to the Washington Post and the Sunday NY Times. It's just a lot of paper adding to the recycling bin. There seems to be less in there.

This is not like discontinuing my Blockbuster account.

I want the newspapers to survive. I love newspapers and the writers who fill them with thoughtful opinions, sane advice (love Carolyn Hax), and good reporting. I like the calendars and photos and lists. I like the Animal Watch stories on Thursdays.

But nevertheless, we are considering a trial separation from our long time delivery guy - not because he isn't dependable but because it feels like life is changing to the point that news on the internet just makes more sense.

What do you think? Do you subscribe to the newspaper?