A Common Question, Part Two: In a Joint and Unified Community, What Do We Do About It?

Once upon a time, there was just the one high school...
but perhaps not just this one bus. Still, a reminder of the
challenges of getting students from Point A to Point B,
even today.

     In part one, I posted a link to an Open Letter by Krista Taylor, discussing the inequities of our nation’s education system. Looking at her arguments, I was led to consider an oft-asked question about our local communities’ schools. Specifically, “Why is there such a difference in the perceived and measured effectiveness between our two elementaries in the Fall River Joint Unified School District?” After all, if we are both joint and unified, one would imagine the personnel, performance, and progress in each end of our district should be nearly identical. They are not.
     I closed that first post by noting that if we follow Ms. Taylor's logic, and I do, there appears to be one major contributor to the disparity: The rate of children living in poverty in Burney is 52.1% higher than the rate in Fall River Mills. (The stats are available at http://www.city-data.com/.)

Part of the heritage of Fall River Mills Elementary:
The Glenburn Schoolhouse was moved to Fall River Mills
to provide additional space...then repatriated to Glenburn
when there was no longer a need for it in FRM!

     The subsequent effects of the Adverse Childhood Experiences related to poverty (for more information on this, see here: https://www.cdc.gov/violenceprevention/acestudy/) are among the best documented statistical factors affecting our communities. But the case-by-case, person-to-person evidence that is being lived out by our front-line educators needs to be heard, validated, and supported through greater community involvement—in both ends of the district.

     In sharing the link to Ms. Taylor’s letter, Fiona Hickey quoted this in part, but the rest bears repeating as well: "We are not in an education crisis. We are in a crisis of poverty that is being exacerbated by the school accountability movement and the testing industry. At best, this movement has been misguided. At worst, it is an intentional set up to bring about the demise of the public education system – mandatory testing designed to produce poor results which leads to greater investment made in test preparation programs provided by the same companies who produce the tests, coupled with a related push for privatization of the educational system. All touted as a means to save us from this false crisis."

     Some might be motivated by this to write their congressman, or other officials at the county, state, or federal level. Those measures are appropriate, and as with Ms. Taylor’s Open Letter, they may eventually be effective. In communities like ours, however, we have an opportunity to reallocate resources more flexibly and effectively within the district and the community.

Among the "signs" of improvement at
Burney Elementary School.

     But who can tell us what needs to go where and how? Here's what Ms. Taylor suggests (with which I wholeheartedly agree): "I hope that you will consider the issues raised here, and most importantly, that you will listen to the voices of the teachers and parents who are trying so desperately to be heard."

     One organization that does seem to listen is the Burney-Fall River Education Foundation, which I regularly support and I would encourage you to do the same. But more of us need to listen to the answers from our educators—even if we are afraid to ask them, "What resources do you need?"

     Does asking that question frighten you a bit? Good. Because it terrifies me…especially being married to a teacher who regularly handles twenty-five transitional kindergartners—four and five year-olds—without a net (other than two very capable aides. One is available to her for an hour on most days. The other for twenty-five minutes). I think that we may share the same worries about asking this important question. I believe that you probably know what I know: that a big part of the answer to what our educators, families, and children need is:

      "You. And. Me."

A Common Question, Part One: In a Joint and Unified Community, Why Is There Such a Difference between Our Schools?

Krista Taylor

That’s the question I hear often. And there may finally be an answer. I am indebted to two friends, both educators, from families of educators, who shared the link to an Open Letter by educator Krista Taylor, the 2015 Dr. Lawrence C. Hawkins Educator of the Year. [accessed February 17, 2017,  http://angelsandsuperheroes.com/2017/01/09/1112/] My friends Fiona Hickey and Susan Tipton, shared a link to her letter, otherwise I would have been unaware of her excellent argument for improving our nation’s schools.

But I want to highlight a particular local factor to which Ms. Taylor’s letter led me. Even within the Intermountain Area, the disparities in both the perceived and measured effectiveness of our elementaries have been marked. Comparing many statistics between the Burney Basin and the Fall River Valley, some of us have struggled to determine what socio-economic factors contribute to such different outcomes. Most of the statistics are close enough between the two communities to suggest that there should be no appreciable difference between these similarly-sized schools, the only two elementaries, in the same district, drawing on the same pool of resources, and ostensibly led by the same administrative philosophies and personnel.

But Ms. Taylor's letter (well worth the long-ish read, in my opinion) addressed a statistic I had not specifically investigated. She noted the correlation in measured performance with the percentage of children living at or below the level of poverty. Where there are more children living in poverty, the measurements of the schools' effectiveness reflect poorly (pun intended) on the performance of educators in those schools.

There are, as Ms. Taylor points out, problems with the means by which "effectiveness" is being measured, and I agree with her on this. But there is another key point I believe merits consideration here, especially with regard to our educators in the Intermountain Area.

Her letter prompted me to reconsider my previous research. During my studies I have looked repeatedly into the statistics regarding the two ends of our district--specifically, the immediate Burney area and the Fall River Valley. Not only does each comprise roughly 3500 in population, almost all other statistics have been practically identical. But today, I realized that the statistics I had relied on applied to the entire population. Ms. Taylor's statistical focus, however, emphasized not the total number of people living in poverty (which I had studied and dismissed previously as a potential for such marked differences), but the percentage of children living in poverty.

So, I looked it up. The stats are available at http://www.city-data.com/.

Why is there such a difference in the perceived and measured effectiveness between our two elementaries? If we follow Ms. Taylor's logic, and I do, this is a major contributor to the disparity:

The poverty rate of children living in Burney is 52.1% higher than the rate in Fall River Mills.

Leave that statistic to sit before your mind for just a little bit.

Then, when you've let the faces and names and homes and jobs and other visions of the impoverished families you see every day within our diverse communities wash through you...come back for Part 2: What do we do about it?

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.

Attention Preacher – Are You Standing between God and His People? Step Aside.

Several years ago, a speaker at Simpson University (one of the three authors of The Psychology of Religious Fundamentalism, but I don’t remember which it was and the tired end of a long day) was asked following his presentation what he defined as religious fundamentalism. I recall recoiling at his definition which, in essence, was that fundamentalism comprised those who held to a literal interpretation of the text they view as holy. I recoiled for two reasons. First, that while I am a Biblical inerranticist, and as such I do hold to a literal interpretation of the text, I cannot consider myself a Christian Fundamentalist as defined in the series of publications from the early-20^th Century that were called and collated together as The Fundamentals. Second, that in accepting those Fundamentals, their adherents are not, in fact, holding to a literal interpretation of the text they (and I) consider to be holy. Specifically, they hold to The Fundamentals, which are a compilation of what other people have said is a literal interpretation of the text…and that interpretation is not literal, nor even faithful to the text in question. This pattern of believing what someone else has said they do (and you should) believe continues well beyond Fundamentalism, even today.

This all came to mind as I read E.M. Bounds’ second chapter in Power through Prayer, “Our Sufficiency Is of God.” He writes (in the masculine-intensive grammar of 1913), “The life-giving preacher is a man of God, whose heart is ever athirst for God, whose soul is ever following hard after God, whose eye is single to God, and in whom by the power of God’s Spirit the flesh and the world have been crucified and his ministry is like the generous flood of a life-giving river.” (Bounds, The Complete Works of E.M. Bounds, 10) What does such a servant of Christ and others offer to those seeking God? Bounds urges us beyond mere exegesis, creativity, and the application of our own intellect, however necessary these may be. In fact, even where these are in evidence, he warns of “the death-dealing element (that) lies back of the words, back of the sermon, back of the occasion, back of the manner, back of the action. The great hindrance is in the preacher himself.”

This one I would recommend.

If God has no grandchildren (i.e., each of us must be rightly related to God through Christ), then it is also true that God has no interpreters (except Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit, both of whom I hold to be God). The work of God’s servant is to stimulate others to enter into and deepen their direct conversation with God Himself. The calling is not to gather crowds to hear what that servant filters onto the hearers second-hand. Shockingly, many seem to forget that where there is no direct conversation with God, there can be no claim to an actual relationship. Those who stand between God and His congregation, whether in the confessional that so many Protestants reject, or from the pulpits, lecterns, and Christian Education curricula that historically span the hundreds of division among Christendom, cannot save those who rely upon such servants as their mediators.

Bounds notes especially the self-esteem and self-ability that often elevate professional servants of God beyond the common experience of Christians. If what we offer is a second-hand, buffered relationship with God, whether we are making the gospel simpler, easier, more exciting, less demanding, or in any other way more palatable and/or less challenging (however popular their messages and well-populated their religious organizations), then what we are preaching is not fundamental to the faith, and only arguably might be considered the gospel at all.

Yes, we proclaim the word through preaching and practice. But we only do so authentically to the extent that we bring others into their own direct contact and conversation with God. Doing otherwise robs them of that relationship we pretend to offer, and strongly suggests that we ourselves have no concept whatsoever of entering into that conversation ourselves, especially if we are relying on others who have previously simplified, de-thorned, softened, or otherwise adulterated the teachings of that text we claim to hold holy.

To close with Bounds (again apologizing as I must for the cultural context of just over a century ago), “Crucified preaching only can give life. Crucified preaching can come only from a crucified man.”

“I’m Right; You’re Stupid.” – Overcoming Our Tendency to Destroy Dialogue via Social Media

Let me offer the following:

A question. An observation. A process. A conclusion.

The question: When we post to social media, and especially when we construct memes, to whom is our message intended?

The observation: I have friends with whose positions I agree. I have friends with whose positions I disagree. Both groups tend to traffic in narrow, stereotypical misrepresentations of one another, polarizing any issue into the extreme ends of any given spectrum. The result is that I choose not to respond even to those with whom I might agree to some extent when they so overstate their position, or represent it as an attack on other human persons. Many of them only barely rise above the childish rant: “I’m right; you’re stupid.”

The process: Here’s how this seems to be happening.

Seeking to encourage dialogue, I have been regularly engaging some of the moderately overwrought expressions of particular positions. The positions held cover a wide variety of topics. But whether it is gun control, immigration, misogyny, the mutual hatred of Republicans and Democrats, the dangers of allowing expressions of religious faith, or any of a handful of other topics, the positions are not just predictable. The positions held become exclusively binary—they are quickly forced to the extreme ends of each issue’s spectrum. For example, if we hold that “Black lives matter,” then we must believe that “No other lives matter.” Likewise, if we love the unborn human person, then we must despise and seek to torturously enslave women. And those who seek the free exercise of their religious convictions can, in this paradigm, only desire to do so at the expense of others’ rights. In all these and more there is no sense of nuance, no appreciation for our limited perceptions, and no suggestion of third options or even alternative perspectives on either of the two (and only two) positions available on any issue.

And this is what is occurring among the moderately overwrought expressions that I have sought to engage. Other expressions are distinctly hateful and inflammatory, and my engagement of them has, so far, only elicited responses of the “I’m right; you’re stupid” variety.

I try to engage those whose expressions merely exaggerate, whose stereotypes are more universal, and who acknowledge that those who disagree with their positions may, in fact, still have a right to air, warmth, water, and food. Usually, however, even these seem intent only on further enflaming those who share their opinions. This works, of course. Each post offers the opportunity to reinforce the position held through others’ “likes” and “shares” and “retweets” and other means of congratulation, especially toward those who state the positions creatively. Yet this also encourages more extreme expressions. Those with the greatest response go beyond exaggeration into ridiculous hyperbole, beyond stereotypes into depersonalization, and even advocating the exploitation, oppression, and removal (yes, removal and even destruction) of entire groups of human persons.

This polarization continues unabated where either of two conditions exist.

The first condition allows some to remain oblivious to their own extreme expressions. This occurs when one’s social media friends and/or followers are almost entirely of a narrow political, socio-economic, religious, and/or ethnic category. Here, the reinforcement of our beliefs goes unchallenged because it is unheard outside the sycophantic circle (i.e., those who can only voice agreement with another’s thought, most often due to the total lack of any thoughts of their own).

The second condition, however, exists even where one’s circle of friends/followers expands beyond those categories. Those of us who reconnect with old friends from High School and College—and who have advanced a few years beyond those formative associations—find a broader range of opinions being expressed. We may agree with some, disagree with others, or even find ourselves wondering about the thought process that supports the position being stated. But in these cases, the polarization continues. Why? Because of this second condition: tacit approval—meaning we silently allow others to assume our agreement. As much as we may consider how someone has come to a conclusion far different from our own, we rarely engage in dialogue. We tend to respond only to those posts to which we can add a hearty “Amen!” with presumed impunity. Others, we read far enough to categorize into our own stereotypes, then scroll, swipe, or otherwise move on to safer, more agreeable posts.

The Conclusion: Having observed this polarization process, I would offer two uncomfortable suggestions. First, I recommend that we expand our corps of friends and followers to include those with whom we are likely to disagree. Second, I also recommend that we engage, politely, with questions or concerns about the content and tone of others’ posts, and especially the memes that are frequently shared by many.

Will this foster world peace? Are we hoping to come to agreement on these divisive issues? Can this possibly stop the bitterness and hatred being expressed?

I believe it would be a step in the right direction. Because when we choose to engage other human persons with whom we disagree, we would be treating them as though they were other human persons. That, in and of itself, might ramp down the rhetoric and allow us the privilege of actual dialogue. And, even if we may never reach agreement in the 5-10% on which we disagree, at least we might reach an accommodation for the 90-95% of our lives that we hold in entire agreement.

Two Ways To Make Better Emergency Decisions – Part Two: A Refresher on Responsibility

The determinist says, "The dominoes, once started, cannot
help but fall according to their pattern." To which I would
reply, "That's probably true, until the roof caves in."

As I discussed in Part One, there are likely some other areas in which your experience leads you to plan ahead. You’ve likely contemplated in advance the decisions you would make and the actions you would take in the midst of an emergency. You may already have a plan to maintain air, warmth, water, and food for you and yours in case of a natural disaster. Your travel kit for an illness, injury, or death in the family may be already packed and readily accessible. The necessary equipment and supplies for surviving an automotive breakdown in severe weather could already be stored in your vehicle. Some of us are careful, some anxious, and some even paranoid, so we plan for any potential calamity, no matter how remote the possibility. And yet, we will still likely face the need to make an unplanned decision, and take hasty action, in circumstances for which we are utterly unprepared. What do we do then?

Accept Emergency Decisions

I believe it to be essential to think through as many potential emergencies as our imaginations can summon. But it is also impossible to think through every potential emergency, to include every possible detail, and to consider all the complicating contingencies that may mitigate our prior decisions in the midst of some very difficult circumstances. The paradox is this: we need to carefully consider our decisions while we simultaneously prepare to take unhesitating action on those decisions, despite the reality that the actual circumstances will almost never match our prior visualizations

Even when we think we know what each part is going to do,
the opportunities for misadventure are incredibly complex.

Here is the result. We will err. We will fall short. We will over-reach. We will do collateral damage. In our judgment, in our physical ability, in our attitudes, or in any number of other ways, we will fail to respond with fully appropriate measures in the midst of an emergency. We cannot do otherwise. And even if we did perform perfectly, as human persons our nature is to second-guess, to doubt, to wonder, and to shame, whether only ourselves or others as well.

We need to accept that we will face emergencies. We also need to accept the decisions that those emergencies require of us. And further, we need to accept the decisions we make and the actions we take may be ineffective, or too late, or over-reactive, or otherwise excessive. But we also need to accept those decisions and actions as being the best we could muster under the circumstances.

So, we are still likely to face emergencies that require the best possible decision under the worst possible circumstances. Here’s what to do with that.

The Greatest Problem in an Emergency

The greatest problem you or I face, whether in the midst of the emergency or in our careful pre-planned policies and protocols, has two tools at its disposal. The tools are these: “Why?” and “What if?” The problem is “Distraction.”

And yet most of us tried doing it so many different ways.

“Why?” asks us to look to the past. Why did this happen? How did we get into this mess? Who messed up and where am I going to find them when this is all done?

“What if?” points us to the future. What will happen if I make this or that decision? What if I make the right decision and fail to carry it out effectively? What if I do everything right, and it still goes there in a hand-basket? What if everyone decides I’m to blame? Both sets of questions distract us from our present circumstances, our limited options, and our inability to predict the many layers of outcomes that will follow.

The Second Greatest Problem in an Emergency

There is a second problem, though. It’s related to the first and, if we will let it teach us, it provides a solution to both problems. Whether the circumstance we face is a consequence (resulting from the “Whys” of the past) or whether it will result in consequences (leading to the “What Ifs” of the future), we often assume that we are somehow responsible for results and consequences, when we are merely responsible for the best possible decisions and actions of the moment, under the circumstances as best we can determine them at the time.

Even the right thing can have unioreseen consequences.
Do the right thing anyway.

For those of us who claim to be followers of Jesus Christ, the question we should ask moment-by-moment and day-by-day is “What would Jesus have me do?” The answers to that question are not complicated—until we human persons complicate them, of course. But in an emergency, there is no time for backtracking, for studying a little harder in some class, or reading a passage of scripture more carefully. There is only who we are, what we have been given, and how we need to respond—which is: only the best we can. My belief in God’s work through Christ in my life by the Holy Spirit means I can rest in the moment, even the emergency, because of who He is making me to be—which governs what I know I am to do. “I am responsible for obedience. God is on the hook for the results and consequences.” (Even, I would add, the results and consequences that led to the circumstances I’m facing in the emergency.)

But that belief rests on one other underlying factor. Here it is.

God Never Faces an Emergency

Nothing ever catches God by surprise. Nothing He allows into your life has slipped past Him unnoticed. He has created you, redeemed you, filled you, shaped you, and led you to be His workmanship (the piece He shows off as evidence of His expert craftsmanship—Ephesians 2:10), to do His will, and to speak His word.

When you find yourself in an emergency, remember that the emergency didn’t find you by accident. And remember, too, that you didn’t find the emergency by accident, either. It’s not just that the circumstances enter your life for a purpose. God built you to enter these circumstances for a purpose. Just be who you are, and do what you do. Let God take care of the results and the consequences.

Countdown to Christmas Conversations: An Invitation to Consider the Character of the Christ – Introduction

Countdown to conversation, with or without candy.

I get what they mean. “Happy Holidays – Enjoy a Blessed Season of Peace and Understanding.” But it seems to me that if the holidays are to be a season of peace, then it would seem prudent to avoid any actual understanding, especially—as the saying goes—regarding religion and politics.

It’s understandable. We avoid discussing our most deeply held beliefs. Why risk the potential for frustration, misunderstanding, and emotional pain? This isn’t the time of year to damage our relationships, so let’s not try anything that might deepen those relationships, okay?

But what if we did? What if we talked about the ways we derive meaning from life? What if we shared with others the value we place on the various aspects of our lives? That’s what spirituality is about.  Even if we don’t have specific religious, doctrinal categories to call them, spirituality is about the meaning of life and the value we place on its elements. It’s the largest part of what makes me me. And if I claim that we have a relationship, shouldn’t you know what that meaning and those values are? Shouldn’t I know the same about you?

If this is where you're spending Christmas...

Of course, if we’re already arguing over whether turkey or ham (or standing rib roast) should be the main course, or whether mashed potatoes come in a box (they don’t) or cranberry sauce in a can (it does), then it might be better to wait until we’re drowsy from the tryptophan (because “turkey” is the right answer to the question above) before we jump into the spirituality discussion.

Still, my hope is that at some point during the holidays you will choose to take the risk and open the door to a deeper relationship with your friends and family. Toward figuring out a way to do that, I’ll go first. In the next few posts, I want to share with you a part of how I derive meaning from life and assign value to its elements. Many of you already know that a great deal of my spirituality centers of Jesus Christ. You may even have heard me define the gospel: we trust in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ as both necessary and sufficient to restore our broken relationship with our Creator, God, and to receive eternal life. I won’t go into all the details of that right now. But there are some aspects of what I understand Jesus Christ to be that might help you understand better who I am and why.

Sometimes it's understandable that you want to eat quietly. But...

In Isaiah 9:6-7, God speaks through the prophet Isaiah and says that the Messiah to be born will fulfill five roles, four of which He names as being “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.” The fifth has to do with the government being on His shoulders, but we’ll get to that in due time.

I also want to invite you to comment on whatever aspects of your own spirituality you might choose to share, whether by name or anonymously, in the comment section below. I find that questions from others often help me think through parts of my own spirituality more clearly. But I also enjoy seeing how others put theirs together, even if they come from very different perspectives and build with very different pieces than I work together in mine. So, thanks in advance for simply reading my thoughts, and special gratitude to those of you who will choose to share as well.

The Annoying Assurance of Evangelicals – “Believe what you want to believe, but how dare you insist that others believe it, too?”

In two previous posts on Evangelicalism, I have defined what I understand to be my responsibility as “an Evangelical” in contrast to those who would apply that term to something entirely different. (That post can be found here: http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2014/11/when-you-say-evangelical-youve-said-lot.html.) I then addressed the implications of being Evangelical as it pertains to the unique, singular, and exclusive stance regarding the gospel of Jesus Christ, while still pursuing conversation and understanding with those outside the ranks of that designation, and beyond the boundaries of Christianity as well. (It’s here: http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2014/11/evangelicals-evangelize-but-that-word.html.)

"Of course I'm right. Even the real killer can't disagree."

In both posts, I am very sure that I come across as being very sure of my position. This is, in part, due to my conviction that inviting discussion requires a clear statement of my position, in order to encourage others to state their position(s) with equal clarity. But it is also due to my conviction that, not to put too fine a point on it, I am right.

How can I presume such a confidence, one easily mistaken for an air of superiority? As an Evangelical (in what I think is the highest sense of the word), in emphasizing a high value on God’s written communication, I cannot escape a Trinitarian and Incarnational perspective. Interpersonal relationships and the benefits God makes available through Jesus Christ are paramount to my life and ministry. Among many implications of this commitment: placing a very high value on every other human person is essential to my practical devotion to Jesus Christ. As Christ’s servant, I demonstrate my devotion by serving others. Yet to be concerned for other persons is to be concerned for evangelism in the assumption that it leads others to the best possible fulfillment of the life for which they were created. And so, my focus and investment is not entirely about benefitting the other human persons with whom I seek understanding and relationship.

"Of course I'm right. Why else wouldn't I explain myself."

If I am, first and foremost, a friend of Jesus Christ, I necessarily share His interests. As Creator, He wants to have the relationship with each person for which we were designed. As Redeemer He wants to see the effects of restoration and renewal from the brokenness of our sin and its damage upon the world in which we live (including our damage by and to one another). He seeks for a “born-again” regeneration to be accepted by every person, which He has demonstrated through His incarnation, crucifixion, resurrection, ascension, and continued intercession.

But where do I fit into all that? I am, admittedly and badly, broken by sin’s damage in the world, and by my own participation in that damage (as perpetrator and as casualty, predator at least as much as prey). How could I presume to prescribe an improvement in belief and behavior for anyone else? I find my answer in II Corinthians 4:5. Being called by Christ means I am the servant of all other persons, seeking the very best for them amidst their present circumstances and toward their ultimate fulfillment, and that can only be accomplished in and through the gospel.

"You're welcome to take this road whenever you choose."

Clearly, though, there is still the valid objection that all this puts me in the position of “knowing what’s best” for another person. And, because I do hold the beliefs described above, I accept those charges and plead guilty. But I also accept that my perceptions of the implications and applications of those beliefs are uniquely filtered and colored by my own experience and perspective. Therefore, I try to encourage others to share their reactions and/or responses to those beliefs, in order to understand what I believe God to be doing in their lives, whether their beliefs coincide with mine or not.

My purpose, then, is not to validate my perspective, position, or passion for the gospel. Neither do I ask others to validate their beliefs to me. But I do hope to learn how to more clearly communicate the gospel, the whole gospel, and nothing but the gospel. It would be too clever, but not inaccurate, to end here with “So, help me, God!” So, I will add that I intend to continue those efforts by learning more from those who want only part of the gospel, or something beyond the gospel, or anything but the gospel. In order to communicate at that level, however, I must be willing to hear others communicate their beliefs clearly as well. Only then might we overcome the misperceptions, misunderstandings, and miscommunications that not only distinguish our beliefs from one another, but which prevent us from pursuing even our essential common interests.

Evangelicals Evangelize – But that word, too, means more than you may think it means.

In a recent post to his blog (“Bait and Switch” at “Uncommon God; Common Good” found here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2012/05/bait-and-switch/), Paul Louis Metzger responds to those who would assume that any commitment by Evangelical Christians toward other persons is merely a function of their desire for recognition on account of their success in evangelism.

 To be an Evangelical means to do...what?

I would add another factor in the equation. Some with whom I am acquainted seem desperate to validate their own beliefs by convincing others of their perspective on the truth. Failing to convince others, those engaging in these attempts will then turn to those, they believe, are already convinced. Thus we often seek to “evangelize” those who are already Evangelicals. It’s called “preaching to the choir,” a reference to pastors who punctuate their sermons by turning to the loft behind them and asking, “Can I get an Amen?!” Sadly, what has frequently become strident argumentation with others has been replayed to me by otherwise kind and compassionate Christians, ridiculing the beliefs of those who disagree, even with minor doctrines, even from within our own Christian traditions. It is sometimes as though I, as a pastor, must ally myself with a particular position in order to reassure the reporter of their relational security with Jesus Christ.

In those conversations, as well as those with others outside my particular heritage and tradition, and especially with those outside the Christian faith, I confess that my interests are not only those of mere curiosity and/or diplomatic dialogue. My concern for other persons is always framed by my desire to see the very best for them in their current circumstances, their continuing development, and their eternal destiny. As with Dr. Metzger, this is part of what makes me “an Evangelical.” (Note: that term, for me, carries implications of both “guilt-by-association” and “pride-of-ownership”—depending upon one’s definition of “Evangelical”—which point I belabor in the first post in this series, found here: http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2014/11/when-you-say-evangelical-youve-said-lot.html)

Whatever you do is likely to be criticized. (It belongs on the counter.)

I would hold that an Evangelical is responsible to carefully study scripture as the basis for the discussions I would qualify as “doing theology in community.” That discussion must include the depths of twenty centuries from our historical community as well as a breadth of sources within the faith today. In order to communicate as clearly as possible, the current cultural and social realities of our day must also be as fully understood as possible. This requires dialogue with those outside the ranks of Christians, and certainly beyond the narrower designation of Evangelicals—and I can understand why they may not wish to talk as openly with me as I would prefer.

There will always be, for me, two key components to these conversations. First, I need to understand others’ perspectives in order to more clearly communicate (and even refine, as necessary) my own positions. Second, I seek to more clearly communicate my perspective so that others may have opportunity to accept or reject an accurate representation of the beliefs and behaviors of Christ’s gospel, instead of the accretions and adulterations that the gospel regularly attracts, even in my own presentation of it.

Again, this view is influenced by my deep dissatisfaction with so much of the misrepresentation of the gospel, especially by those who seek to abscond with the term Evangelical as a label for their socio-political manipulation, exploitation, and oppression—but even in that, I would hope to persuade you of my position’s accuracy. Why? Well, you’ll have to read about that in the next post.

When You Say “Evangelical,” You’ve Said a Lot of Things So Many Others Say. (In other words, “You keep using that word. But I do not think it means what you think it means.”)

More than a few blurred distinctions.

When You Say “Evangelical,” You’ve Said a Lot of Things So Many Others Say. (In other words, “You keep using that word. But I do not think it means what you think it means.”)

What’s in a word? For those of us seeking to communicate clearly, too often the answer is “far too much.” For example, when the word is “Evangelical” the variety of definitions is so diverse as to make the word nearly meaningless. That has not always been the case, but today there needs to be some clarification.

"Assumes facts not in evidence."

Many confuse the term “Evangelical” as representing at least a portion of “the religious right,” those who crusade for a more comfortable and convenient social environment in which to pursue their narrow view of “Christian culture” amidst a “sanctified” society. Try as they might, however, the term does not fit, leaving the would-be Ecclesial Emperors without the clothes in which they would cloak beliefs and behaviors that are entirely incompatible with the Evangelical label.

You should know, though, that I do have a dog in this fight. Being “a theologically conservative Christian holding a high view of scripture and a subsequent insistence on salvation by grace through faith in Christ alone” (I believe that to be an acceptable definition of “Evangelical.”) requires me to reject two of the most prevalent practices of “the religious right.”

First, and worst, the politically-motivated are looking for such “Evangelicals” as will arrogantly augment, if not entirely eliminate Christians’ dependence upon answered prayer. They preach that we should pursue, in addition or instead, mass-market fund-raising approaches to accomplish our social-engineering goals through adversarial litigation and lobbying for legislation.

John Hancock did not sign The Gospel.

The methods are bad enough. But what if they were successful? I reject not only the prescribed means, but the ends toward which these efforts are directed. The politically conservative among us offer Evangelicals a false utopia. This paradise would be devoid of dissent against whatever they define as their distinctive doctrines. They would prohibit the disaster of allowing individual disobedience, lest it lead to social dysfunction. And they would suggest they could defeat the effects of depravity by destroying its source: the availability of temptation. But God did not send His Son into the world to eradicate the dissenters, the dysfunctional, the disobedient, or even the depraved. The Son’s calling, and ours, is to alleviate the suffering, illuminate the escape route, and welcome those who would join us in doing the same.

Why do I reject the utopia offered by the religious right? Because it’s the wrong goal, pursued along the wrong path. Religiously-enforced behavioral constraints (i.e., emphasizing moral behavior and ritual participations as the core elements of “Christianity”) are as ineffective an end as the means to establishing them are unbiblical. And for an Evangelical (so far as I understand what the term was intended to mean), that is inconceivable.

More to follow shortly.

Hospice Chaplaincy – Equally Available and Avoided by Both Adherents and Atheists (and everyone in between).

Lizzy Miles, MA, MSW, LSW

Lizzy Miles is a Thanatology Rockstar. Deservedly so. Since serving as a Hospice social worker, among her other involvements, she has initiated the first North American gathering of a “Death Café” (The profile for the Columbus Death Café is here: http://deathcafe.com/profile/49/), and seen its influence spread to other events across the country.

She recently wrote on a subject near and dear (and frustrating) to my heart. The article, “When Patients Refuse the Hospice Chaplain” can be found here: http://www.pallimed.org/2014/10/when-patients-refuse-hospice-chaplain.html. In eleven-plus years of serving as Hospice chaplain (among my other involvements), I can attest to her observations and recommendations. I would add two things, though, one of which I hold in greatest certainty, the other of which I offer as a question, or at least an invitation for comment.

The first addition I would make (an “Amen,” if you’ll allow it), is to her observation that patients often decline the services of a chaplain because they have “an existing long-term relationship with their church, mosque, synagogue, or other group. They often believe their spiritual leader knows them and will be a supportive presence during their end-of-life journey.” She also notes, though, that social workers need to assess further throughout the course of care. “Sometimes patients expect they will receive more support than they do.”

There's one near you, and a locator function on their website.

I would say that patients routinely receive far less support than they had imagined. This is not only due to the natural discomforts, fears, and personal challenges to lead to avoidance by clergy and others, though that is a significant factor. Some patients find that their community of faith and its leaders are very willing to call, visit, and assist, but in ways that betray their lack of perspective and/or training in end-of-life care. In short, there can be a lack of involvement, or a lack of competence, or both. As a result, there are unmet needs for which the chaplain (or spiritual care coordinator) may be helpful, despite the patient’s or family’s earlier estimation. Therefore, I wholeheartedly endorse the recommendation to social workers and others working with Hospice and palliative care patients: “Check in occasionally with patients and families regarding their church support.”

Regarding my other, less certain suggestion for this excellent article, I agree with the admonition that we “don’t forget the atheist, agnostic or non-believer” who may “avoid religious or spiritual support.” But I also believe that the “spiritual” aspect may be poorly defined for most of us.

In my experience, we tend to identify spiritual and religious as related in their supernatural orientation, but differing in their level of organization (being socially or dogmatically prescribed, in the case of religion). My reason for inviting comment is my uncertainty regarding the terms I use, as well as my perception that we lack effective alternatives to “spirituality” as the appropriate descriptor.

Specifically, along with Lizzy Miles, I worry that we deny atheists, agnostics, and non-believers the support they would find helpful when facing their impending death. I would also point out, though, that many of those would consider themselves to be spiritual, or to possess spirituality. (Among several volumes exploring this issue, the most popular seems to be The Little Book of Atheist Spirituality, by Andre Comte-Sponville.) A chaplain, adequately prepared to provide care to those of diverse spiritual backgrounds, would be an appropriate source of support even for those who reject any notion of “spirituality” prior to a clarifying definition of that word.

That clarified definition that I would suggest may fit another word better. But as I wrote earlier, if that word exists, I don’t know what it is. So, my proposal is that we offer the services of the chaplain/spiritual care coordinator in a way that clearly expresses how each of us experiences “spirituality” as “the framework by which we derive meaning from life, and assign value to its various elements.” What life means, and what we value within it, seem to me to fit the common use of “spirituality.”

The Center of Hospice Care: The Patient.

Again, if there is a better word, let me know. If there are objections that some avoid any sense of meaning or value in life, I would love to collect some specific examples. But there seems to me to be a universal tendency among human persons to think that their existence has some relation to the society and world around them, and that certain elements of their life have more positive or negative value than others. Facing their impending death will likely require some re-examination, if not adjustment to that meaning and those values. Thus, it is my belief that in the midst of that experience, the support and encouragement of an adequately prepared chaplain/spiritual care coordinator is invaluable.

So, if your definition of spiritual differs, or if the definition I offer fits another word better, or if you have any other question or comment, I look forward to hearing from you.