Many of you received an email and/or a letter from the church about a week ago, detailing our ongoing fiscal difficulties, and announcing the 2010 Annual Meeting. As we prepare the Confirmation class for its attendance at the annual meeting, we've been talking about how churches work, what their processes are, etc.
In light of this ongoing preparation for the Annual meeting, this past Sunday in our Confirmation class, I had the students do an exercise. I gave them a copy of the 2009 budget, and then gave them the amount of revenue we expect to have in 2010 and 2011. As you may know, those numbers are far apart. I asked them, in three groups, to pretend that they were the church council, and to propose a budget that matches our resources to our expenditures.
Their responses were one part creative, one part outlandish, and one part somber. They quickly realized, going through the budgets line by line, that the budget wouldn't be balanced one $500 item at a time. One group proposed doing away with the church's telephones altogether, and having everyone email the church when they needed something. Another group suggested turning off the heat and air conditioning. One group suggested an across-the-board pay cut for all staff. A couple of groups suggested doing away with retirement. Two of the Confirmation students were unwilling to cut their own parent's jobs. One group thought we should rely on a cottage industry of elves for revenue. I wish I were kidding.
In the end, the Confirmation students realized that in difficult economic times, difficult decisions have to be made. None of the three groups made the same proposals as the other two; every group had its own take on the budget challenges, and every group proposed to face those challenges differently. In the end, I think they came away with a greater understanding of what it takes to run a church, and what it will mean when they take that vow of membership in May.
Those Confirmation students can be models for us. These are not easy times, but we can face them together, with eyes wide open, and with the knowledge that God stands with us and before us, calling us ahead on our mission. While we may not be unanimous about where we go from here, we can still go there together, bound to one another with love.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Let Jesus Point the Way?
Gun sights with scripture references? Supplying US troops with good Christian help in killing enemies? Yes! In a January 20, 2010 BBC article the American company Trijicon, founded by a "devout Christian" and which says it runs to "Biblical standards", is putting biblical references on sharpshooters' gun sights. Just imagine, look down the barrel of your gun, find your human target and be guided with the reference to John 8:2, "When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, 'I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life". Jesus will light your way to your kill your enemy.
Hey, toss out any qualms about this. So what if Jesus said, "Love your enemies"? He didn't really mean it. Now being a "devout Christian" means letting Jesus point the way, literally, for you to kill.
What? You don't think that one scripture reference will be sufficient ammunition for you to kill someone? Wait! There's more! This company also supports the devout with yet another helpful passage. Found on the company's Reflex sight are references to II Corinthians 4:6: "For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ." It just warms your heart, doesn't it? We can give "glory to God in the face of Christ" . . . by blowing off the face of our enemies!
Sorry for the sarcasm. I am sick with disgust about this. To twist the message of Jesus and the angels (whatever happened to "Peace on earth, good will to all people?) is beyond abhorrent.
Let me grieve for Christ's Church. Give me space to pray as Jesus taught us, "thy will be done … and forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us."
Let me grieve for Christ's Church. "Oh, my God, what have we come to?"
Hey, toss out any qualms about this. So what if Jesus said, "Love your enemies"? He didn't really mean it. Now being a "devout Christian" means letting Jesus point the way, literally, for you to kill.
What? You don't think that one scripture reference will be sufficient ammunition for you to kill someone? Wait! There's more! This company also supports the devout with yet another helpful passage. Found on the company's Reflex sight are references to II Corinthians 4:6: "For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ." It just warms your heart, doesn't it? We can give "glory to God in the face of Christ" . . . by blowing off the face of our enemies!
Sorry for the sarcasm. I am sick with disgust about this. To twist the message of Jesus and the angels (whatever happened to "Peace on earth, good will to all people?) is beyond abhorrent.
Let me grieve for Christ's Church. Give me space to pray as Jesus taught us, "thy will be done … and forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us."
Let me grieve for Christ's Church. "Oh, my God, what have we come to?"
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Water from Wine and Miracles from Community
Many years ago I had the privilege of serving as a volunteer firefighter. One evening the fire department pager went off informing me of a house fire. I was home alone with my eight-year-old daughter so I could not respond immediately. I called a neighbor, and I all said was, "I'm home alone with Philippa and there's a house fire." "I'm there," were her only words and she hung up. As I pulled out of my driveway I saw my neighbor running for my house. I drove the second truck to the fire and, as is usual during the early minutes of fighting a fire, I was exceptionally busy. When the fire was out I had time to look around. The house was saved but heavily damaged. The woman who lived there was looking lost and confused. I can't even begin to tell you the sense of desolation I felt, that I felt every time, when I saw a family burned out of its home. "Here is where," I thought to myself, "we really could use a miracle right now." Here was want and need and shortage.
And then I looked closer. I was surrounded by, at this point, 3 different fire departments who had been called in to help. These women and men are all volunteers and had left their families and jobs to do what they could. I saw neighbors gathering up the children whose house had burned to bring them to secure beds and much love. I saw more neighbors coming to the aid of the woman who looked so desolate. I saw volunteer EMT's, who hadn't even been sent by dispatch, standing by to help in case anybody was hurt. I saw the caring and love and the eager compassion that makes community so remarkable. I remembered my own neighbor rushing over to my house. And I realized I was watching, watching, a miracle happen. I was watching abundance be born from lack, plenty breaking through shortage, water being turned into wine. When all we hear and read and see on the news day after day is of the bad that human beings can inflict upon one another, I watched the men and women of that community reach out to their own, and in the case of the fire fighters, literally put their own lives in danger to protect their neighbors. That part of us that is created in God's image, responded with a depth and compassion that transformed despair into hope. Only the presence of God can do that.
It was in this all-so-human episode that I realized I was catching a glimpse of what Jesus was doing in Cana: creating abundance out of shortage, building the bridges of love out of despair. This first miracle was indicative of all miracles: it came at time of need and shortage; it came to banish despair and reinstill hope in the human heart.
And then I looked closer. I was surrounded by, at this point, 3 different fire departments who had been called in to help. These women and men are all volunteers and had left their families and jobs to do what they could. I saw neighbors gathering up the children whose house had burned to bring them to secure beds and much love. I saw more neighbors coming to the aid of the woman who looked so desolate. I saw volunteer EMT's, who hadn't even been sent by dispatch, standing by to help in case anybody was hurt. I saw the caring and love and the eager compassion that makes community so remarkable. I remembered my own neighbor rushing over to my house. And I realized I was watching, watching, a miracle happen. I was watching abundance be born from lack, plenty breaking through shortage, water being turned into wine. When all we hear and read and see on the news day after day is of the bad that human beings can inflict upon one another, I watched the men and women of that community reach out to their own, and in the case of the fire fighters, literally put their own lives in danger to protect their neighbors. That part of us that is created in God's image, responded with a depth and compassion that transformed despair into hope. Only the presence of God can do that.
It was in this all-so-human episode that I realized I was catching a glimpse of what Jesus was doing in Cana: creating abundance out of shortage, building the bridges of love out of despair. This first miracle was indicative of all miracles: it came at time of need and shortage; it came to banish despair and reinstill hope in the human heart.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Epiphany and Magi and Questions
Have you ever stopped to think about how very odd the story of the magi is? Not that the entire birth narrative is any way normal, mind you. But the story of the magi takes an already odd tale and twists it even more. Here we have a baby so poor his cradle is a cow's feeding trough, and then these apparently rich magi (we don't know how many), show up. They had been following "his star" for quite some time, searching diligently for the child. When they find him they kneel before him, paying him homage, giving him gold and other treasures. Take out the sappy romanticism and think about how likely this is. We get the impression, particularly growing up with the hymns and stories inspired by this tale, that these were astrologers, or deeply religious pilgrims, epitomizing the devout life and trekking off in sure and certain knowledge that they will see the messiah, and get their answers to their lifelong questions. Which the Church helpfully provides
However, as odd as this sounds, I am not so sure that the Church is here to give us answers. Rather, the Church is here to help us explore the questions, to give us guidance, to teach us to pray. The Church is here to help us grow in our relationship with God, with Christ and with each other. The Church is here to help us seek our God-given star and follow that, because we DO believe that a life with meaning and grace is offered to all of us; we DO believe that although the way be hard and the search be long, it is worth it; we DO believe that although we may articulate our journeys and our answers differently, we share in common God's image of love in which we all live and move and have our being.
This is why the story of the magi speaks so powerfully to us. Because we know on some intuitive, spiritual level that the journey is worth it. We know that sometimes we just have to risk and leave a place of security to find a deeper home. We know that a star guide will us, that there will be a way in the wilderness, that there will be an end to the wandering.
Although the Church does not supply trite answers, it does make a promise. It promises that God's promises are true. And God has promised us, in the form of an infant born in a stable, that our lives have meaning and are infused with grace, that God has come incarnate among us. God promises us that there is always a star to guide us, if we but have the courage to take the risk and follow it. God promises us that at the end of our journeying we shall find God's love born(e) within us, bringing us the peace of soul and mind that we seek.
So arise, my friends in Christ, shine! Your light has come! And the glory of God is risen upon you!
However, as odd as this sounds, I am not so sure that the Church is here to give us answers. Rather, the Church is here to help us explore the questions, to give us guidance, to teach us to pray. The Church is here to help us grow in our relationship with God, with Christ and with each other. The Church is here to help us seek our God-given star and follow that, because we DO believe that a life with meaning and grace is offered to all of us; we DO believe that although the way be hard and the search be long, it is worth it; we DO believe that although we may articulate our journeys and our answers differently, we share in common God's image of love in which we all live and move and have our being.
This is why the story of the magi speaks so powerfully to us. Because we know on some intuitive, spiritual level that the journey is worth it. We know that sometimes we just have to risk and leave a place of security to find a deeper home. We know that a star guide will us, that there will be a way in the wilderness, that there will be an end to the wandering.
Although the Church does not supply trite answers, it does make a promise. It promises that God's promises are true. And God has promised us, in the form of an infant born in a stable, that our lives have meaning and are infused with grace, that God has come incarnate among us. God promises us that there is always a star to guide us, if we but have the courage to take the risk and follow it. God promises us that at the end of our journeying we shall find God's love born(e) within us, bringing us the peace of soul and mind that we seek.
So arise, my friends in Christ, shine! Your light has come! And the glory of God is risen upon you!
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