“To Strive, or Not To Strive. That Is the Question.” – Part Two: Do I Dare Face Off against Myself?

Reading the apparent contrasts in the lists of scriptures I quoted in part one, you may already have asked these questions: “Does scripture contradict itself in what it demands of us?” and, “Isn’t this just another example of how the Bible can be made to say whatever we want?” Before considering how to reconcile the two lists, be sure to recognize the importance of considering them together. Otherwise, we easily fall into the trap of selectively listening to God’s word, or simply disregarding it altogether.

To the first question, “Does scripture contradict itself?” I would answer No. God’s word points us consistently in the same direction. But that’s why it is essential that it be taken in its entirety, with each passage carefully examined for its context as well as its content. In fact, as you read the verses I am struggling with, you may already have said to yourself: “that’s not what God means in those verses,” or at least “why isn’t he considering passages that address that topic more fully?”

That’s also why I would also answer the second question, “No.” My overactive anxieties and depression are tempting me to grasp at disconnected segments of the whole, making the Bible say what I do not want. The underlying temptation in this leads me to consider a disastrous sin: that I would give up on hearing from God and embark impulsively on whatever the path of least resistance seems to be at the moment. (For an example of how the enemy of our souls tries to use scripture to twist us to his plan, consider the third ploy he offers in the wilderness temptation of Christ. Luke 4:9-11.)

All of this contemplation of potential contradictions leads me to welcome the two-fold wisdom found in more direct comparisons like Proverbs 13:4, “The soul of the sluggard craves and gets nothing, But the soul of the diligent is made fat.”

If I crave anything in this season of my life, it is that I crave those few days which require no expenditures. I cannot buy even the most basic groceries without calculating the percentage of their effect on our remaining bank balance. The greater challenge is to remain diligent in those things to which the Lord calls me, despite the fact that none of them provide income. Chaplaincies at Hospice and the Community Food Pantry, counseling for the hospital, substitute instructing for the seminary, and assisting in a classroom at the elementary school all fall under the same heading: organizations to which my services were once generously provided by the church that no longer pays me a salary. Only my work toward establishing a counseling center at the church we are attending hold the potential for someday providing an income.

But despite the sense of obligation without remuneration, there is this blessing in all of those organizations: They provide me with opportunities to remain diligent in the service described in Hebrews 6:10-12.

Hebrews 6:10–12 For God is not unjust so as to forget your work and the love which you have shown toward His name, in having ministered and in still ministering to the saints. 11 And we desire that each one of you show the same diligence so as to realize the full assurance of hope until the end, 12 so that you will not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.

Not sluggish, but diligent. And yet not desperately striving, but accepting of God’s timing, call, promise, and provision. The both of these can be balanced together even as I seek diligently to be and do as God has called me, even as I wait patiently for Him to tie some portion of those activities to a paycheck…perhaps.

“To Strive, or Not To Strive. That Is the Question.” – Part One: Do the Scriptures Face Off against Themselves?

On this Monday morning, I'm contemplating concepts that are a little deeper than my headache would prefer. But there are two sets of scriptures I'm trying to reconcile into my actual action plan for the day, week, and month ahead.

One set of scriptures fuels the motivation to placidly await the revelation of God’s will, and work only at finding, fulfilling, and finding my fulfillment in that which He has called me to be and to do. This set includes verses like Psalm 23:1-3, Psalm 46:10, Isaiah 40:31 and, of course, Matthew 11:28.

Psalm 23:1–3 The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. 2 He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters. 3 He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake.

Psalm 46:10 “Cease striving and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”

Isaiah 40:31 Yet those who wait for the Lord Will gain new strength; They will mount up with wings like eagles, They will run and not get tired, They will walk and not become weary.

Matthew 11:28 “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.

Patience is never easy for me in the best of times, but especially when I am being tempted to "stop waiting, start striving, get to work, and make something happen." Given multiple examples in my own life, though,I should have learned long ago not to race on ahead of the Lord’s instruction and timing, as though I somehow could reach His destination by plotting my own course.

In the past, my tendency to define, chart, and manufacture my own circumstances has led me to unfortunate decisions and desperate situations. The passages above do help me to resist the impulse to run from the peace and quiet in which God speaks, to avoid filling my schedule with random appointments, and especially to stop calculating where and how I might best “monetize” my skills and experiences regardless of what God calls me to be and do.

When the urge strikes to blindly plunge ahead, compelling me to at least stew over the many options I can imagine becoming profitable, I selectively recall another set of scriptures. These others provoke my impatience still further with verses like Proverbs 6:6-11, Proverbs 24:30-34, and II Thessalonians 3:10.

Proverbs 6:6–11 Go to the ant, O sluggard, Observe her ways and be wise, 7 Which, having no chief, Officer or ruler, 8 Prepares her food in the summer And gathers her provision in the harvest. 9 How long will you lie down, O sluggard? When will you arise from your sleep? 10 “A little sleep, a little slumber, A little folding of the hands to rest”— 11 Your poverty will come in like a vagabond And your need like an armed man.

Proverbs 24:30–34 I passed by the field of the sluggard And by the vineyard of the man lacking sense, 31 And behold, it was completely overgrown with thistles; Its surface was covered with nettles, And its stone wall was broken down. 32 When I saw, I reflected upon it; I looked, and received instruction. 33 “A little sleep, a little slumber, A little folding of the hands to rest,” 34 Then your poverty will come as a robber And your want like an armed man.

2 Thessalonians 3:10 For even when we were with you, we used to give you this order: if anyone is not willing to work, then he is not to eat, either.

Part Two will appear here soon. For now, consider which set of scriptures draws your attention most often. Are you more likely to lie down, to cease striving, to wait, and to rest? Or are you found more regularly gathering and preparing, clearing and cleaning, and working so as to ensure your food supply? And, if you can identify which list most describes you, then which aspects of the opposite list might be needed in order to bring greater balance to your life?

192 Months, to the Very Day: I Quit

To my beloved brothers and sisters, and friends of The Glenburn Community Church:

Still a light.

There is so much that I would like to say about the past sixteen years since I began serving as the pastor of The Glenburn Community Church. But many of those blessings are still obscured by the pain of these past five months. The blessings have not disappeared, however. The joy and privilege of having served at Glenburn will remain a part of me forever. And those blessings will again become clearer, I believe, as I bring my role in prolonging this pain to an end.

Since August 15, I have tried to serve in as pastorally a fashion as possible, while still adhering to the restrictions placed on me by our board of trustees. I have (more often than not—but I have had some dark moments) sought to answer, “What would Jesus have me do?” and bring as redemptive an outcome as possible for all concerned. In doing so, I have had two major motivations.

"Good fences make good neighbors"?
Robert Frost didn't think so.

First, I had hoped to communicate my own repentance, whether there could be any forgiveness or not. Especially with the addition of false accusations, I longed to offer clarification as well as confession. But I remained bound by having been placed on “administrative leave” and instructed not to initiate contact with any members of the Glenburn congregation. My subsequent request to address the congregation more formally was denied. And so, I have complied with this limitation until today. (Let me add here that I have been very grateful for those who have chosen to initiate contact with Shelly and me. We have greatly needed and appreciated your support.)

My second motivation is more difficult to describe without unfairly and unnecessarily disparaging the board of trustees. I cannot imagine the difficulty they faced in responding to the reports they received. It is perhaps my own ego that suggests that communicating with me might have helped them to avoid the missteps that unfortunately complicated the legalities of the situation. But those entanglements occurred, nonetheless. I take solace in the hope that the contradictory claims and accusations made were the result of miscommunication between the board and their lawyer, rather than originating in intentional misrepresentations of the facts. Still, I have been motivated as your pastor to hold our board accountable for the unscriptural, unethical, and illegal actions taken. But those efforts end today.

Resignation: when the remaining moves
merely postpone the inevitable.

Attempts to have The Glenburn Community Church legally terminate my employment have been ineffective. Therefore, I am resigning from my role as your pastor. I do so, not because I am weary of the horrific process of communicating through multiple lawyers with my brothers and sisters in Christ. Nor am I motivated by impatience in wanting to resume communication and perhaps restore our relationships. (That may be, in fact, impossible.) I would like to believe, however, that I would persevere in my responsibilities toward you, even if the mental and emotional stress of responding to conflicting claims and accusations were redoubled. Finally, I have delayed this decision because, as all of you know, I simply am a pastor to anyone I have opportunity to serve. Excluding you from my love and care is, indeed, impossible.

I will continue to pray for God’s best blessings to abound to you and yours. But I remain convinced that doing what is right and good must first be grounded in what is true. And so, given the complicated structure of our state’s legal system, I face a scriptural quandary that prevents me from serving you further. I have condensed the theology of it as best I can in the paragraph below.

Stalemate: when there are
no further moves possible.

Romans 13 requires our submission to legal authorities. The authority governing employment law is the Labor Commissioner. But the focus of the Labor Commissioner does not differentiate between the board of trustees and the rest of the church as part of a California not-for-profit religious corporation. Therefore, the substantial financial penalties would be enforced against the church, with no recourse to the errors-and-omissions insurance that would otherwise cover the board’s actions. This is where the quandary arises. In order to rectify the board’s violations of our bylaws and my contract, without harming the church financially, it would be necessary to file a lawsuit against the board. Not all would agree, but I believe that I Corinthians 6 prohibits me from doing so. (For those familiar with the passage and organizations like Peacemakers: the board declined the offers of two Christian mediators toward reconciling these issues.)

As concerned as I am for the future of our congregation, and for the impact of my own sin and these subsequent events on the testimony of the body of Christ, I am at an impasse. In seeking what is true, and right, and good, I entrust you to the care of our Lord and Savior, and whomever else He may call to serve His purposes at Glenburn in the future. May His grace and mercy reign.

Still your servant for Jesus’ sake (II Corinthians 4:5),

Bill

Rev. Wm. Darius Myers, DMin, CT

“Prioritize Public Schools!” – How Martin Niemöller would advise Bertrand Russell’s chicken.

"Why are they feeding us this?"

I want to tell you a different kind of chicken joke, followed by a more traditional chicken joke.

Joke the First

The first chicken joke expands on an analogy drawn by the philosopher Bertrand Russell. In chapter six of The Problems of Philosophy he discusses inductive reasoning—the idea that future events will continue a pattern we have observed in the past.

For example, because the sun has appeared each of the past 20,000+ mornings, I assume that it will appear yet again tomorrow. But however sure I am of that fact, Russell points out that there are limitations, even tragic limitations to my assumptions.

Bertrand Russell laughing at some joke or other.

To show these limitations he offers the observations of a particular chicken—about which I am about to make a rather gruesome joke, with apologies and the appropriate trigger-warnings to my chicken-raising sister, Dr. Rebecca Linger.

Our friend the chicken knows two things to be universally true. First, that every morning, the farmer appears and scatters feed before the assembled chickens. Second, that from time to time the farmer also appears again in the late afternoon and, from among the assembled chickens, she selects one, chops off its head, and eventually consumes its lifeless body.

But here is where our chicken friend’s inductive reasoning fails, according the Russell. The chicken’s observation each day of her life has been this: the farmer always selects some other chicken besides me. That has been true. And it will continue to be true…until the day on which it is no longer true.

Bertrand Russell’s chicken could use some advice from Pastor Martin Niemöller.

Niemöller was arrested in 1937 and held by Nazi officials in a series of prisons and concentration camps until 1945. Nevertheless, he is often criticized for having been slow to recognize the dangers posed to some of his fellow-citizens, then to his country, to the rest of Europe and, eventually, the nations engulfed in World War II. Yet, in retrospect, The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum prominently quotes this version of his famous poem:

            First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—

                        Because I was not a Socialist.

            Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—

                        Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

            Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—

                        Because I was not a Jew.

            Then they came for me—

                        and there was no one left to speak for me.

Now that you know these things, let me tell you the joke.

What would Martin Niemöller say to Bertrand Russell’s chicken? “Ask yourself, ‘How many chickens does the farmer have left before she gets to you?’”

Why Joke the First matters:

Do we find this first joke funny? Probably not. And if not, what does that say about who and where we are in the chicken’s story?

Martin Niemoller, laughing,
probably at some other joke.

For Russell (and Niemöller), the joke is clearly on the chicken (and Niemöller)—fat and happy until the hatchet falls. Russell’s chicken and Niemöller’s advice combine to represent a mindset I am observing among the opponents of public education, primarily in the immediate context of our local community. (A similar attack is being mounted at the highest levels of our federal government, and the publicity surrounding those efforts certainly emboldens the efforts here. But so long as public education remains largely controlled by local school boards, I intend to focus on the children of the Fall River Joint Unified School District.)

Why I Am This Passionate:

Let me digress for a moment to make full disclosure of my passions in this matter.

My family has been involved in public education since long before my birth. I have been involved as a volunteer and donor in many aspects of public education throughout my life. I am married to a public school teacher. I count many public school teachers among my friends. Even so, my wife and I considered carefully the expectations of some within our faith tradition that we would be educating our children in private, Christian institutions, if not homeschooling them. I have frequently considered what have been offered as the “options” and “alternatives” to public schools. These “choices” are routinely offered in opposition to perceived (and, I admit, actual) failings in our public schools. But after more than three decades of involvement in this dialogue, my hackles are raised by every advocate for homeschooling, every “alternative educational opportunity” that is offered, and even the ignorant denial of truancy’s detrimental effects on our children—both the individual truant and those children whose educational resources are diminished as a result of these others’ absence. (Schools are paid on the basis of their average daily attendance. Each child’s every absence literally costs the school money that otherwise would be invested in local public education.)

So, as some recommend that we further diminish the enrollment of our public schools, and with that lower enrollment comes the lower funding for even the most essential elements of education, I object and will oppose their efforts. They may be sufficiently funded and organized, and possibly even competent to focus on their own family to the exclusion of others’. But on behalf of those outside the small number who might reap better benefits from others’ costs, I would ask that we instead apply Niemoller’s lesson. Ask yourself, “How many more students can be subtracted from our public schools before there are not enough resources available to educate those who remain?”

Our past observations, that every day of our lives there has been public education, do not support the assumption that, no matter what we do to damage it, there will always be public education. In fact, there has not always been public education. In many places, there currently is not public education. But I am not only asking that we consider the survival of public education. I am asking that we turn our attentions away from the options and alternatives that diminish the education received by the majority of our community’s children. Instead, let us turn toward the improvements and support, or at least encouragements deserved by those whose lives are committed to providing the best possible public schools we can.

Tim Madigan, St John Fisher College

Joke the Second

Tim Madigan of St. John Fisher College wrote “Mr. Russell’s Chicken: A New Symbol for Philosophy” for The Bertrand Russell Society Bulletin. After considering various other philosophers’ probable responses, Madigan imagines that Dr. Russell is asked the most famous of chicken-joke questions. I am choosing to clean up the language for my audience. (Who knew that philosophers were allowed to cuss?!) But according to Madigan, to the question, “Why did the chicken cross the road?” Russell would answer, “Because he finally understood induction, and got…away from the farmer!”

There is a reason that we chickens get to make decisions, locally and directly, about how we want to educate our children…together. As a community, do we need to invest in one another’s children in order to enhance our public schools? Yes, of course. But I would take it a step further.

Special Bonus: Joke the Third

Even those of us who have no school-aged children need to recognize the benefits we all receive by means of our public education system, especially through our local public schools. More than merely recognizing those benefits, we need to invest ourselves in making our schools the best they can possibly be. This means volunteering, donating, and fund-raising. But it also means supporting and encouraging those who chose a career in public education.

"Who built this road across my path?"

That decision to be professional educators means that they receive far lesser returns than others would, given the same investment in college and graduate school education. It has been said that no sane person enters a career in public education with expectations of lucrative salaries. Some teachers respond to that statement with this joke: “No sane person enters a career in public education. Period.” The fact is, sadly, that some have been so wounded in the opposition’s constant attacks on public education that their initial passion is a distant memory. Yet even for the most tired, jaded, and discouraged of my acquaintances, there clearly remains a love for and devotion to the children they serve. These educators deserve our support and encouragement. These children deserve our involvement and assistance.

Let’s Try This:

Rather than imagining the alternatives and options (which some of us may, in fact, be sufficiently privileged to pursue), what if we imagined—and acted upon—a vision of what our public schools could be, if we the public—fellow members of our local community—were to invest ourselves in all our community’s children?

Must You Sin in Order to Repent? Some thoughts on taking the terrible risk of ministry innovation (i.e., anything other than “the way we’ve always done it before”)

In my earliest years of ministry, I took risks. Many risks. I still do. But there were and are risks I should have taken from which I have retreated to a safe distance. Not that I admit cowardice. If my rationalizations are to be believed, I am only being prudent. I am not procrastinating. I am calculating the anticipated benefits against the potential costs. I am considering, contemplating, and completely over-thinking matters until any opportunity for effective action will have long passed. Therefore, my regrets, such that they may be, involve only the hindsight of wondering what might have resulted, had I boldly acted in a more timely manner.

But having boldly acted in a timely manner on other occasions, my hesitation seems justified. Some risks resulted in little or no benefit. Other Christians, noticing this, have reacted to some of my plans by criticizing me for the “wasted time and resources.” If for no other reason than this, I would excuse myself for developing some hesitation, a flinch-response at even the thought of stepping into risky territory.

Sometimes, Decisive Action Cannot Be Avoided

Once upon a time, however, avoidance, and even hesitation was not an option available to me. My first two congregations were considered to be in “redevelopment” mode. That meant that they would be closed soon if the new pastor, I, did not “turn things around.” In the immediate cause-and-effect panic of trying to spark life into dying congregations, two things were true. First, the dire financial conditions meant that decisive action could not be delayed, if I intended to feed my young family after the limited denominational subsidy ran out. And yet, second, each misstep, each call for extra effort that failed to produce tangible results, and every immature impatience I allowed to show would diminish the trust that I felt others needed to have in my abilities and wisdom…at age twenty-two and twenty-four, respectively, in those first two congregations.

You would be right to assume that those abilities and wisdom were in short supply. Thus, any trust those congregations placed in me at all was an act of faith in Christ to use even me for His purposes. Still, I felt I could not afford any suggestion that He was not doing so.

The primary reason for the success of those first two efforts is that I followed the advice of the Rev. Richard C. Taylor, Sr., my first district superintendent. When I expressed the above thoughts to him, probably in the breathless blurting that comes with being entirely overwhelmed by the challenges and reactions I was facing, I recall him saying, “Love God; love your people. The rest will all work itself out.” It did.

But yesterday, I was thinking through some decisive actions looming on my current horizon. I recognized that there had been one other element that was probably just as essential to those successes as loving God and loving the congregation. That indispensable, decisive action? Repentance.

In this context, I do not mean repentance from sin, although that is even more necessary to ministry success. But there are times when those we serve need to know that we are engaging in experimentation. Especially in redevelopment ministries, but in most other congregations as well, we are trying to accomplish God’s purposes among a community that has responded as much as they are going to respond to “the way we’ve always done it before.” We are looking for the new wineskins in which the new wine of new converts and new areas of service can grow, mature, and become all that God intends. And yet, it might not work. But if it does not work, we will try something else.

Case Study: The Coffee and Cookies Experiment

Here is one example. At The Glenburn Community Church we enjoy a time of fellowship and refreshments following the worship service. It used to be held in “fellowship hall,” which was the term we used for the schoolhouse, the middle of three buildings on our campus at the junction of Glenburn and McArthur Roads in the heart of the Fall River Valley. Attempting to connect with visitors, however, used to be very difficult. They would only rarely walk past their cars in order to continue fellowship in another building, even in the best of weather. When we proposed moving coffee and cookies into the sanctuary, however, as a way of getting better acquainted with (our now-captive) visitors, a number of objections arose. The primary and temporarily successful argument was that it historically we had believed it would be inappropriate to have food in the same building where we worshiped.

But then, amidst discussions about the long history of far-more interactive fellowship in previous generations at Glenburn (we are, at 131 years, the oldest church in Shasta County), one of our longest-tenured members (granddaughter of one of the earliest pastors) mentioned with great delight the potlucks and pie socials that were once held here.

One episode in Glenburn’s history is essential to understanding how important that comment was. For several reasons, the local school district for a time needed additional space for elementary students. Unfortunately, they had neither the resources to bus them to Glenburn’s schoolhouse, nor to build their own. The simplest solution often being the best, The Glenburn Community Church “loaned” our schoolhouse to Fall River Mills Elementary School. That meant it was jacked up and transported there. This also meant that during those years, when the third structure at Glenburn, the Sunday School building, had not yet been built, and the schoolhouse was now miles away, there was only one building on the property. The sanctuary.

The occasional pie socials could have been scheduled during only those months of surer weather. But monthly potlucks could not all have been held outdoors. Once upon a time, I suspected, the congregation of The Glenburn Community Church had indeed eaten food in the sanctuary. Of course, I asked. And my friend explained, with equally great delight, how the men would turn the pews to face one another and set table tops between them, turning the worship venue into a banquet hall quite quickly.

This revelation about our own history (“the way we’d always done it before” suddenly became plural—the ways we done it) overcame the primary argument against seeking greater fellowship with coffee and cookies in the sanctuary. Still, there were many questions about how well this plan might work. So, we set a three-month deadline for the “experiment” of moving our fellowship time into the sanctuary.

Just over a month into the experiment, however, there were discussions among several key families and the most influential member of what was then called The Glenburn Church Women’s Circle informed me that the experiment was over. The benefits of providing simpler refreshments, keeping visitors captive, and having more hands available for clean-up were simply too great. We would never, she said, convince the women of the church to go back to having fellowship time in the schoolhouse.

Repenting of an Experiment

Few failed experiments can really be called mistakes. Certainly, not all mistakes are a result of sin. It is even more rare that the mistakes are sin in themselves. Much of “the way we’ve always done it before” may still work well. But new opportunities, at least, may require some experimentation in finding “the way we’ll always do it from now on.” My point here is this: if we had not been prepared to repent of that decision, sinless though it was, we would never have been able to implement the experiment.

Honoring our heritage is a noble virtue. Equally important, however, is an honest look at our history. Once upon a time, there was no pattern of ministry. There were no events or practices listed in the big book of “the way we’ve always done it before.” What made some of those ministries so memorable, and so entrenched, is how well they worked in accomplishing God’s purposes among those people at that time. And what is most fondly remembered by those who were there is not the protocols and policies. They speak with great joy about what it meant to face a challenge, and eventually find a way to address it, through a process—most often—of experimentation to see what might work “then and there,” when that was “here and now.”

So, what experimental solutions might we find today? That is an exciting question. The fearful and paralyzing answer, though, is “it might not work.” That is true. But if it does not work, we will repent of it. And we will try again until we find what does work—just as soon as we repent of not trying.

An Invitation Not to Be in Church This Sunday: Reflections on Thom Rainer’s “I Am Not in Church.”

Looking at church.

A heart-felt piece of writing on Thom Rainer’s website really struck me on this particular Monday morning, especially after a Sunday on which my focus was pulled in so many directions. (You can read his post at http://thomrainer.com/2016/05/i-am-not-in-church/.)

I know there were people "at church" yesterday who I wanted to be sure felt welcomed, valued, comforted, encouraged, etc. (By the way, that applies to everyone who was there, as well as quite a few who weren't.) But I also know that when we most need to feel welcomed, we may not be at our most welcoming. When we most need to be comforted, we may not be very comforting. When we are in need of encouragement, it's harder to find the ways to encourage others.

Going to church.

If I come seeking for what others can provide to me, and even if I come hoping to provide something to others, then I am looking for something other than church. The idea of coming "to church," being "at church," and certainly "doing church" all destine us to disappointment. Granted, there are places where people gather and engage in worship, fellowship, discipleship, and service. And I highly recommend doing so. Yet there is a purpose to doing so that is often obscured not only by the location and activity, but more so by our attitudes and expectations.

Being in church.

The idea of "being church" together means that we are not an unlimited reservoir of blessings to be tapped by one, some, or a small handful of folks who may have some need or other on any particular Sunday morning. Some come afflicted with a hunger and thirst for meaning and fulfillment, or even food and water. Others have found great meaning and fulfillment, but in ministries that routinely empty us. If each of us, at one time or another, are coming to be filled, then who can we consistently depend upon? Who will always be available to pour themselves out into us?

Getting behind the church.

We need to remember that the unlimited reservoir that we seek to tap into together can only be Christ Himself. And in doing so, perhaps we might join together in setting an example for others, too, who imagine that the church is something you can somehow be "in" instead of being "of."

So, if you're waiting for an invitation? I hope Christians invite you. We're supposed to. It's part of the mandate Jesus gave us--reach out, love, invite, congregate. But if we invite you "to" church, then it's not church that you're likely to find. If we invite you to sit "in" church with us, then it's not church that you'll probably be attending. If you're invited, you should accept only if you recognize that we are desperate sinners whose hearts, however redeemed and sanctified they may be, are still prone to selfish idolatries. You should accept the invitation from those who come together to console one another at least as much as to celebrate and commend Christ with one another. You should not be misled into thinking that Christianity can be a spectator sport, a self-help seminar, or even a source of sustenance to our souls. If Christ alone is the way, the truth, and the life we offer, then all the invitation we can extend to you is this: come to Him, and be church with us.

E.M. Bounds’ Seven Elements of Preaching from a Place of ‘True Praying’

There are a handful of moments over the past three decades of ministry when I remember being nearly paralyzed by the immense responsibility that accompanies the divine calling to preach the word of God. It is rarely simple, never easy, though occasionally exciting…like a train-wreck. Those overwhelming times sometimes result from the challenging subject matter of the passage at hand. Sometimes, I have felt myself engulfed by emotion because of the circumstances into which God’s word must be spoken. And more frequently I am amazed in contemplating the great privilege granted me by a congregation committed to enabling sufficient study, composition, and polishing for the messages they gather to hear.

I hope that one element is conspicuous by its absence. Study, composition, and polishing come easily to those blessed with a great deal of education, bountiful budgets of both time and money to constantly consume book after book, and the additional benefit of being engaged in dialogue with a diverse breadth of individuals of great spiritual depth. With all that, however, comes also the temptation to believe that I have something to say. I do, of course. But not in preaching. In preaching, my responsibility is to overcome the temptation to say any something, except to deliver that which is God’s message, in that holy moment He has appointed, for the edification of those He has gathered, that they may be the agency of His will on earth, just as it is in heaven. As important as preaching is, and important as careful study, composition, and polishing may be, there is one essential that should inform, influence, and inspire every word of every sermon. But because, as E.M. Bounds writes, “Preachers are human folks, and are exposed to and often caught by the strong driftings of human currents,” I find that I need a constant reminder of the necessity of the fullest possible approach to preaching through prayer.

Toward reminding myself of the richness of prayer that provides the foundation and fulfillment of preaching’s promise, I find Bounds’ seven elements of “true praying” to be a worthy contemplation.

1.       Vital Oneness with Christ – As communicators of the gospel, we are not merely commentators on the events and content of Jesus’ life from twenty centuries ago. If we are not continuously participating by allowing His ministry to take place in and through our lives, then we are preaching across a divide of insurmountable distance to those who have little or no hope of emulating what we present as an intellectual exercise instead of a living, breathing, active and living (thus Bounds’ use of the term “vital”) life of faith.

2.       Fullness of the Holy Ghost – Jesus told us that out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. If we are merely to speak about God, then we may do so out of the abundance of our minds, the volumes of our libraries, or the class notes from our Bible college or seminary. If, however, we intend to speak God, to speak the way, the truth, and the life, to give voice to the living presence of the Almighty Creator of all that ever will have existed, then we must be filled to overflowing with God Himself in the person of the Holy Spirit.

3.       Deep, Overflowing Fountains of Tender Compassion – In the next point, Bounds addresses our focus on eternal life for those we serve. But here, lest we overlook the circumstances of their lives, becoming “so heavenly minded that we’re no earthly good,” it is essential that we not only know how others are living, but that we materially live as they do. The ivory pedestals of our isolated studies may be momentarily necessary to the study, composition, and polishing of our messages, but the lives into which we speak are “out there” where the dialogue is occurring for many more hours than we will ever preach. The phrase that has helped me most in making the time available for actively engaging in the daily lives of our community comes from Andrew Blackwood’s Pastoral Leadership (Abingdon-Cokesbury, 1949). I remember it as, “Pastoral visitation is sermon preparation.”

4.       Deathless Solicitude for Man’s Eternal Good – No matter how gratifying it is to see God’s resources brought to bear through our lives into the needs of those we are called to serve, the message we deliver is not merely incomplete but entirely heretical if it does not emphasize God’s eternal love, Christ’s eternal purpose, and the Holy Spirit’s eternal efforts to bring new, abundant, and eternal life into its fullest possible expression in every life He allows us to touch.

5.       Consuming Zeal for the Glory of God – Even in the previous two categories, it is possible to diminish God to being the cache of resources, or even the means to salvation. That Jesus is Lord and Master, and Sovereign King does not negate His character as the Friend of sinners, the Intercessor affirming the effectiveness of His blood in reconciling us to God, or any other aspect we may occasionally neglect in favor of others. The richness of both the breadth and depth of God’s attributes, character, will, and action deserve careful review to ensure that our preaching does not drift onto a few favorite perspectives at the expense of presenting the wholeness of His holiness.

6.       A Thorough Conviction of the Preacher’s Difficult and Delicate Work – I have discussed this above, but here I would add the confession that I have, too frequently, looked upon a sermon text as offering me an “easier” preparation due to my familiarity with the particular passage. I have learned, however, to reject this seductive enticement to my laziness. In truth, the more familiar a passage is, the more difficult it usually proves to think through how it applies to the congregation who will gather to hear it. Worse, far greater effort is actually required. It can be a struggle to determine what the passage does say, when I am already certain that I know what it has said to me previously. And then, the cold, hard light of truth, once seen, needs to be focused and filtered into fractional portions, set in an accessible order, so that the truth that so resonates in my heart will do the same for others on Sunday morning.

7.       The Imperative Need of God’s Mightiest Help – All of the above matters combine to motivate an inevitable decision. There are more than two options, but many preachers find themselves at some point in their ministry with the strong sense of being caught between only the Rock and the hard place. The hard place may be the personalities and preferences of a particular parish. Some may face a crisis of personal health, relationships, or finances. But often the hard place is deep within the preacher who faces the growing perception that an ever-closer relationship with the Rock reveals the terrible distance between what the preacher is and does, and what any disciple of Jesus Christ comes to realize: there is so much we can never be, so much we can never do. The weight of that realization can threaten to crush us. The attractive alternative to that brokenness is to walk away from the role and its responsibilities. But there is a third option. I happen to believe it cannot be accessed without the brokenness. Some would disagree, and perhaps they have found some other means to the same end. But the strength to hold up under the pressures of preaching is to accept what Bounds calls “the imperative need of God’s mightiest help” that is available only when, I believe, our strength has crumbled to dust and been swept out of the way.

Of course, this seventh element brings us full circle in Bounds’ list. God’s mightiest help is only available when we have nothing else to bring to the task at hand than our vital oneness with Christ. Are there still simpler, easier, more exciting options available to today’s preachers? Yes. And it would appear that simpler, easier, and more exciting preaching is more attractive to greater numbers. So, why pursue this prayer-drenched preaching that Bounds describes as being “a conspicuous and an all-impregnating force?” There is no reason at all, unless we choose to believe as Bounds does: “To (those) who think think praying their main business and devote time to it according to this high estimate of its importance does God commit the keys of his kingdom, and by them does he work his spiritual wonders in this world.”

When I look at the crowds that are being drawn, and especially when I hear the criticisms from among the simpler, easier, and more exciting options, so far, I do still hear the words of Jesus: “What about you? Do you want to go there, too?” It is only by committing to consistently “conspicuous” prayer that my answer remains, “Where else am I supposed to go? Only You have the words of eternal life.” (John 6:66-71) And as their preacher, I refuse to believe that those to whom I am called to serve on Christ’s behalf should deserve anything else, which would make the message something less than the whole counsel of God’s word.

“You Can’t Always Get What You Want, but If You Try Sometimes…” – Part Two: Some Thoughts on the Assets and Liabilities of Small-Church Spirituality (Part One Examined the Parallel Issues in Small-Town Medicine)

In part one, we explored some of the issues affecting the quality and availability of healthcare in low density population areas like the Intermountain Area of northern California. These include the following: (1) An inattention to detail that can result in patients receiving less than, other than, or simply none of the care they require to be restored to physical health. (2) The attraction of lower-priced alternatives to shopping locally for pharmacy services, leaving communities without the availability of occasionally necessary medications like antibiotics and other temporary symptom-relief measures. (3) The tendency of healthcare staff members to see patients more as a commodity that provides employees with job security, rather than being at least paying customers with distinct needs for quality service. (4) An amazing dedication displayed by individuals within the system whose thoughtfulness, creativity, persistence, and awareness of the human personhood of their patients manages to bring about the right results in the midst of an untrustworthy, and sometimes dangerously dysfunctional system.

As I suggested earlier, each of these traits finds a parallel in small-church spirituality, and I find a strong correlation to both the assets and liabilities they represent. Here are some thoughts about that.

The Lone-Ranger’s Ministry: Small-Church Spirituality and an Insufficient Focus

I am not the only solo pastor who sees the irony in being asked to devote twenty percent of our time to each of the six to ten elements of our position descriptions. Neither am I alone in feeling very alone when just one or two of the elements require our attention for a majority of the 168 hours we are allotted in a given week. The frequent result that costs us what little of that schedule would otherwise allow restful sleep is this: in our best-managed weeks, there are far many more details in need of attention than there is attention available to devote to them. Unless, of course, some of those essential details are effectively delegated. Ironically, it is by allowing others to participate in ministry responsibilities that provides greater growth and health in the body of Christ. (Ephesians 4:11-16) But just as misfiled medical records can be deadly, local congregations, extended families, and individual human persons find their spiritual health declining for no other reason than they are missing certain basic elements necessary to barely sustaining, much less strengthening them.

One-Stop Shopping: Small-Church Spirituality and Mesmerizing Mega-Churches

For some, it is the occasional trek to a larger community and the larger churches to be found there. I cannot deny that there are several worship bands that perform far more professionally than any available in our remote rural area. The focus of a multi-staff church’s “teaching pastor” whose primary job description is to prepare and present sermons will almost always provide more polished preaching than the jack-of-all-trades general practitioner filling all pastoral roles in a small rural congregation. The economy of scale in larger religious organizations means that there are enough potential attendees to justify narrow, niche-marketed ministries to those with characteristics or affinities that guarantee that everyone else in their gatherings will be very much like them (and thus very likely to like them). But just as shopping elsewhere for routine medical services threatens to leave patients without the immediate and personalized care they will almost certainly require, a similar pattern befalls those in smaller churches and communities who find themselves in sudden need. Mega-Church pastors seldom make housecalls and hospital visits, even within the immediate neighborhood of their church’s location. Ministry to the bereaved, the substance-abuser, the traumatized, or even the recently engaged is most often requested of the pastors serving churches that are closest geographically, but who are not at all close relationally to those they have never seen in a Sunday morning pew. (And this viewpoint ignores entirely the impossibility of one-on-one ministry with pastors known only through their broadcast personality.)

Budding Beginners and Experienced Elders: Small-Church Spirituality and the Horrors of Hirelings

It is not, of course, only those in the pews (or not) whose habits are devastating to small churches. Those called to pastor in rural parishes, especially, tend to fall into two categories. First, chronologically speaking, are those with wet ink on their diplomas, degrees, licenses, or ordination papers. Denominations with insufficient multi-staff church positions for the newest, freshest, most inexperienced ministers use a variety of disparaging terms for both these pastors and the congregations they serve. Likewise, most of those younger pastors have heard not only the disparaging terms, but the pattern expected of them, if they are to survive long in the ranks of professional career pastors. But at the other end of the longevity spectrum, there are many pastors who have served for decades without retirement plans, sufficient wages to build-up savings accounts, or even the equity of home ownership as they have moved from parsonage to parsonage, or been consigned to a rotations of rentals by their lack of employment stability. Those well beyond retirement age can sometimes rely on their wisdom and experience to make up for a lack of energy, or a perceived lack of relevance to “today’s young families.” But both the “whippersnappers and fogeys” who fill many rural pulpits share one critical characteristic that dooms their congregations to constant recycling through the pastoral-search process. The shared trait is this: they will be moving on soon. Those in their first pastorate will soon be lured away to the next rung on the corporate career ladder. Those with decades of experience will soon be called home to Jesus, or at least away from effective ministry by some combination of infirmity, illness, or injury. In either case, and too many others in between, the focus is not on serving the congregation and community, but on the ongoing development of the minister, the growing needs of their family, the enticements of the next available opportunities, or their desire to comfortably finish their final chapter.

Exceptions to the Rule: Small-Church Spirituality and the Idealism of Interconnected Individuals

In part one, we celebrated individuals within the healthcare system who looked beyond their official job descriptions, their personal inconvenience, and “reasonably competent service” in order to focus on the needs of patients. Here, I want to acknowledge that my preference for small-church spirituality is based on similar observations. Where there are not seminary-trained specialists in narrow fields of ministry to specifically-segregated groups of consumers, there is a greater reliance on other resources. Among these, the Holy Spirit is most trustworthy. But a broader scripture knowledge is also in evidence, and quite helpful among those seeking what Jesus would have them to do…when there is not a staff member already assigned to the responsibilities in that area. Third, beyond the work of the Holy Spirit and the trustworthiness of scripture, there is the interrelated workings of members within the body of Christ that is necessitated by the utter lack of paid professionals on-scene in most circumstances. Last in this list, for several reasons, but still of great importance to the health and strength of small churches, especially in remote, rural, low density population areas, is the willingness of committed shepherds to stand firm and stay put, doing whatever is necessary to overcome the dangers and damage that accrues from the horrible rotation of hirelings that has destroyed not only individual congregations (the list of extinct churches in our area continues to grow) but devastated the testimony of the gospel.

So, to those members of the body of Christ who choose to attend, participate, and serve in the local communities to which God has called them, and to those pastors who resist the temptations to build careers rather than congregations: May God bless you by allowing you to see an effective fellowship in which every good thing in each of us is shared fully with all of us. (Philemon 6)

“You Can’t Always Get What You Want, but If You Try Sometimes…” – Part One: Some Thoughts on the Assets and Liabilities of Small-Town Medicine (Part Two Examines the Parallels to Small-Church Spirituality)

The allure is undeniable: larger communities with larger healthcare systems certainly appear to operate in a more professional and business-like manner than elsewhere. Likewise, the apparent benefits of churches with memberships larger than the entire population of the Fall River Valley seem unquestionable, at least for those who can afford the time and gas money to go where the band is more talented, the preacher is more polished, and the coffee bar better stocked. But while there are liabilities inherent in both small-town medicine and small-church spirituality, certain assets in each suggest that there may be important reasons to “shop local” for both your physical and spiritual care. The parallels I see in small-church spirituality will follow in part two. For now, here are my thoughts in support of patronizing the resources available in small-town medicine.

A Geographic Snapshot: Rural Medicine and the Time-Space Continuum

My wife and I work full-time. We also volunteer for a number of organizations (including our employers). We choose to invest in our community in a variety of ways, some of which take us to some of the more remote residences tucked away here in the mountains of northern California. As one result, our busy schedule and our commitment to “shop local” leads us to seek most of our routine health-care here in the communities of our low density population area. Amidst the 1200 square miles of The Intermountain Area, there are three clinics, spaced evenly apart along the highway that runs through the communities of Bieber, Fall River Mills, and Burney. There are even two pharmacies from which to choose, although these are less than a mile from each other at the southwestern end of the area in Burney. At times there has been a third, more centrally located in Fall River Mills very near the area’s only hospital. Sadly, those attracted by the “convenience” and “low-low-prices” of mail-order drug suppliers overlook a number of factors. Not only is there the inconvenience of a long drive to pick up their occasional antibiotics or other urgently-needed medications, but there are also the dangers inherent in circumventing our local pharmacists’ ability to compare multiple prescriptions for potential interactions.

A Sociological Snapshot: Rural Medicine and Being Our Brothers’ Keeper

These are the kinds of cost-benefit decisions we face in our community. What the British would say is “penny-wise and pound-foolish” translates here to more directly “biting the hand that heals you.” The declining availability of quality assets in our local community are not always a matter of mere convenience. Most in our area cannot afford the luxurious options enjoyed by wealthier community members. Certain leaders have noted that the presence of a hospital matters more to their property values than their healthcare decisions. (“People won’t move here if there isn’t a hospital. But if you can afford to move here, you can afford get your healthcare in Redding.”) One hospital board member has offered that he sees the facilities existing only for a very short list of urgently necessary services. The time and expense of pursuing care elsewhere, though, is nearly impossible for many who are less-mobile than our more affluent retirees. Whether due to time-consuming work schedules or the limitations of insufficient gas-money (or both), the majority of our residents in the Intermountain Area are dependent upon quality healthcare being provided through the single chain of clinics, the only hospital, or the two pharmacies located within just one mile of each other.

An Anthropological Snapshot: Rural Medicine and the Consequences of Inattention to Detail

Thankfully, so far, the quality of healthcare available is still amazingly high, especially when compared with the relatively low quantity of our private-pay population who choose to support them. Unfortunately, though, the strain is beginning to show. The internal matters of staffing and scheduling, no doubt, inflict great difficulties upon the dedicated individuals and teams who make possible the practice of medicine in our midst. My perspective here, however, is from that of the patient—the one who depends upon available medical assistance, accurate diagnosis, and accessible treatments, including the appropriate medications. Some recent experiences have highlighted distinct deficiencies in the system.

Twice now, in our immediate family, prescriptions have been written on the wrong forms, and once by personnel not legally permitted to do so. The most recent episode was compounded by neither local pharmacy having enough of the given medications available to fill two of three prescriptions. Further hindering the process of getting a sick patient to their home (half an hour away), the pharmacy that had a partial amount to fill one of the prescriptions had none of the patient’s information on file. Worse, in another half hour of computer and phone contacts, they eventually determined that they would be unsuccessful in securing payment from the patient’s insurance. Of course, then, the insurance company balked at reimbursing the full retail price that was paid “out-of-pocket.” But there seemed to be no alternative. After two trips to the clinic (having returned to get the properly formatted prescription), two to the first pharmacy (which found the prescription to be incorrectly written), and two to the second pharmacy (after confirming with the patient that they had no other insurance documentation with them), it was nearing closing time for all of the above. If there had not been a credit card handy, we may have failed to get the medications considered “essential” to the patient’s recovery.

These are not uncommon obstacles to our community’s pursuit of healthcare. Other patients have been hindered from health by even greater difficulties resulting from insufficient inventories. Some are dissuaded from seeking care by the confusing double-billing practice of both locally invoicing and simultaneously outsourcing the same charges to our hospital’s “not a collections-agency.” On occasion, overworked hospital personnel have failed to appreciate how easily patients overhear the staff’s crude and cruel comments about their diagnoses and treatments. And then, there are those times when it seems that other distractions take priority over the delivery of healthcare by the employees of our healthcare system. For example, one night, seeking to have blood drawn by the lab at the local hospital (as my physician had directed), I waited over an hour while my fever continued to rise (101.1 to 102.7) because the receptionist was unwilling to call the on-call laboratory tech. Only after an intervention by the health clinic’s on-call nurse were the doctor’s orders followed. To be fair, in defense of the receptionist’s otherwise inexcusable procrastination, there seemed to be ample reason for her anxiety, given the lab tech’s mood when eventually arriving to tend to a paying customer’s needs.

A Moral Snapshot: Rural Medicine and the Blessings of Personal Investment

And then, there’s Melissa, the Pharmacy Tech (labelled thus so as to differentiate her, as we did in our fan mail to the pharmacy’s corporate offices, from Melissa the cashier, who I’m sure is perfectly wonderful as well). After our first trip to the first pharmacy, trying to get the right medication for the correct prescription on the wrong form, we were back for our second visit to the clinic, to get the prescription corrected. Even before I arrived at the front desk of the clinic, Melissa was there beside me. After we had left the pharmacy, the pharmacist had pointed out to her that whether we had the prescription on the correct form or not…they didn’t have the medication in stock. So, Melissa called the clinic to intercept us, except that the receptionist was momentarily away from the desk, so the voice-mail kicked in, telling Melissa that the clinic was closed for the day. Because her car was parked in the opposite direction, she decided it was safer to simply run to the clinic, so that we did not find the closed, and return to Fall River Mills in despair.

And this is where Katelyn comes in. Granted, she was away from the desk momentarily. But I believe she’s not the one responsible for the wrong voice-mail message being loaded. In any case, she and Melissa consulted and confirmed that the medication that was available had already been tried and found ineffective. They then phoned the other pharmacy, sharing the phone to confirm that the competitor to Melissa’s employer had at least a partial supply for the patient’s need. But the partial supply would “use up” the full prescription, so yet a third prescription for the same medication needed to be written…and it was, thanks to Katelyn’s willingness to contact another healthcare professional with the credentials to make it happen.

To clarify my pessimistic perceptions for you: there can be a tendency to ignore our mutual responsibilities for one another, whether divided into the categories of staff and patients, or divided into those who must rely on local providers and those who can afford to seek healthcare elsewhere (which ironically includes some of those who accept the obligation to maintain the local resources for others). Those who seek their own convenience, sometimes to the point of refusing to inconvenience themselves for the sake of others, put the health and well-being of patients (“paying customers”) in jeopardy.

Despite my pessimism that suggests that dwindling attention will result in resources dwindling even further, my flickering hope is occasionally fanned into a few ember-fed sparks. It is not just Melissa and Katelyn, though they certainly served that purpose most recently. But there are still more than a mere handful who recognize the priorities of patients as the core commodity that will either sustain our healthcare system, or allow it to implode once it is hollowed by a continued decline in attention to the needs of those patients.

Which will it be? As promised, the same question applies to small-church spirituality as well, and we will turn to that application in the next post.