2 days, 3 houses, 7 niblings

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This weekend, we made a road trip to spend some time with family.  Since we have moved, it has been harder to make a quick trip over to see our parents or siblings and the kids.

One of my primary goals during renewal leave was to spend more time with family and to re-establish patterns for seeing and communicating with them.  As I shared with my congregation when we announced the leave:

this is a time to enjoy the simple beauty of spending time with those I have been called to love.

I do believe that our families are part of our calling.  You almost never got to choose who they were.  Some of them were around long before you and some have come into your lives as you have grown and changed.  But each one of them are part of your responsibility to care, to teach, to listen, to play, to love.

Since my husband and I are child-free, I have in particular embraced the role of aunt to my niblings. I love their little footsteps pattering towards the door as we walk in to get hugs.  I love the sloppy messes.  I love the silly things they say and their wild imaginations. And as I have watched them grow… including the one who now towers over my head… I have loved to see how kind and responsible they are and to hear all about the things that they now love.

A dear friend, who is also a child-free aunt, posted this to my facebook wall the other day and it made me tear up.  I do love my niblings. And this weekend, I got to be that aunt.   I loved their snotty faces and their tears and their shrieks of joy.  I loved hanging out on the floor and putting together legos with them.  I loved writing silly stories with them.  I loved the cuddles. I loved teaching them something new.  I loved listening to what is going on in their world. And, as a pastor, I also love that I can bring the gifts of my work into their lives and can wrestle with questions and be a part of blessing them… literally!

That is what the picture above is… a celebration of new life as we blessed my newest nibbling.  We gathered around him and prayed for the life God has in store for him and for his parents and grandparents as they all love and care for him.

But I also love my brothers and sisters and if an ounce of what I can do and share with and for them makes their lives any easier, that brings me great joy, too.

 

Vision, Mission, Money and Imagination

I love my new ministry as the coordinator for Imagine No Malaria in our conference… but I often have a hard time explaining why.

While there are similarities with local church ministry (which I also love), so many aspects of this position are drawing upon gifts in new and different ways.

But because I am not in the local church, preaching every Sunday, it doesn’t look like ministry to some people.

I think I was having trouble myself with wrapping my head around how and why this was ministry.  How and why a pastor should be in my position.  The job uses my gifts; I get to engage 800 churches instead of just one; I am engaged in the work of transforming the world (a core part of our mission as the United Methodist Church).  I had pieces of the answer, but was still missing something.

Until I read some Nouwen this morning and finally found a missing connection point… the words I need to really claim and explain my work.

Nouwen writes –

Fundraising is, first and foremost, a form of ministry.  It is a way of announcing our vision and inviting other people into our mission…. We are declaring, “We have a vision that is amazing and exciting. We are inviting you to invest yourself through the resources God has given you – your energy, your prayers, and your money – in this work to which God has called us.”

God has called us to this work.  And every day, I get to proclaim the vision of what will be realized when we answer that call.  Every day, I get to send forth the invitation, the call to conversion, that will help us to answer that call with our whole lives.

We are participating in God’s good work and we imagine a world in which children no longer die from a preventable, treatable, beatable disease.  We imagine communities of people working together for healing and wholeness.  We imagine pregnant women who are healthy and can carry their babies to term without fear.  We imagine a global partnership that is able to wipe out death and suffering from malaria.

And not only can we imagine these things, but God has shown us a way to accomplish them.  You and me, working together, bringing the best of ourselves and our gifts.  That is the body of Christ in action.  That is the aim of discipleship.  This is a living and giving ministry.

Yes,  I am a fundraiser.  And yes, I am doing ministry.

And now for something completely different…

The following is the announcement I made this morning at our worship service.

This morning, I need to share with all of you some rather big news. This is not going to be easy to say, so I’m just going to come out and say it.

Starting October 1, I am beginning a new journey in ministry.  I am humbled and honored to have been asked by Bishop Trimble to coordinate the Imagine No Malaria campaign for the Iowa Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church. After a lot of wrestling – with God, with myself, with the larger church, with my husband… I can no longer deny that God is asking me to be a part of this exciting new project.

For the next two years, I will be traveling the state helping all of us, as United Methodists, raise $4 million dollars to help end deaths from malaria.  I will be training volunteers, helping to resource fundraising events, and sharing the stories of what everyday, ordinary people are doing to help combat this global disease.

As excited I am about this big thing that God is calling me to do… I am equally heartbroken to be leaving you.  In fact, one of my biggest obstacles to saying “yes” to this position is that I really do not want to leave you… the people of the First United Methodist Church of Marengo.  Both you AND I have dreamed about years of ministry together in this place.

But sometimes our plans are not God’s plans.

I realized that whether I leave tomorrow or ten years from now, our work together will never be finished… there will always be more to do.

I realized that while I have walked with you this far, there are other people that God is waiting to send this direction to help you grow and thrive in ways I could never do.

And when I prayed long and hard about it, I was finally able to say yes to this position because I know… I trust…  I believe with all my heart that YOU will be okay.  That God will take care of you.  That the larger church will take care of you and will send someone here who can take what we’ve done and help you to shine.

So I need all of you to do a couple of things for me.

1) I need you to remember that these past five years have not been about what I have done – they are about what YOU have done.  You showed up.  You took chances.  You recommited yourselves.  I helped to steer along the way, but nothing that we have accomplished together would have happened without you.  You are stronger than you realize.  You are more amazing than you give yourselves credit for.  Whoever might stand in this pulpit is not the church…. YOU ARE. And it is up to YOU to continue this work… work that started long before I ever showed up and that will last long after the youngest of us gathered here is old.

2) I need for all of you to feel comfortable coming and talking with me over the next few weeks about whatever it is you are feeling.  Whether you are angry or upset or disappointed or overjoyed… please come and talk to me.  This is sudden, and surprising, and it is not easy for any of us to digest.  Whatever you are feeling – it is okay.

3) I need you to work with our District Superintendent.  He has promised to work his hardest to help bring a pastor to this church who is the right fit as quickly as possible.  I know that there have been times in the past when you have felt like the black sheep and the neglected step child.  But now you know who you are and what you are about.   I believe you are a resurrected and thriving church and an example for small congregations all across Iowa.  You are not going to let you stumble. And over the next month, he is going to need your help and support as he gets to know the church better in order to help bring the best possible person to be your pastor.

4) Last,  I need you to pray.  I need you to pray for me as I begin this crazy new adventure.  I need you to pray for one another.  I need you to begin praying right now for your future pastor. I need you to surround that person – whomever they might be – with love and support and grace.

 In our sermon this morning, we were reminded that we are a living church – not a dead one.  We are a church who has shown the fruit of mercy and compassion in our lives.  God is here and will sustain you.  Thank you for letting me be a part of the journey for this leg of the road.

foolish vigor


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While I might be young, I’m also a bit daring. I have found myself in recent events at the front of the room instead of the back. Maybe it is my naiveity, but even standing at the front or on a committee, I wonder where the hope has gone. I wonder where the risk has gone. This isn’t even a commentary on my denomination, the United Methodists… I have had many ecumenical conversations recently and I am sideswiped by “we can’t do that, or get away with that” comments.

It sometimes feels like the church has lost its foolish vigor.  We have neglected St. Paul’s call to forget the ways of the world, forget success by earthly standards, and to just take a chance and stand with the cross.  We have neglected the call to take up our cross and to follow Jesus – because we are scared of where the cross takes us. It isn’t just fear, or temptation to suceed, sometimes it is just down right laziness and the tedium of daily tasks that keep us from diving in.

I think I’m able to keep going, because in the midst of all of the “safe” choices and the call to “increase numbers” and the forms I have to fill out… I hear about a few folks are taking risks.
A local presbyterian church held a Christmas Eve service this year at a bar in town. They took the risk and were invited back for next year. It wasn’t a success numerically – but they were out there, in the world, and if even one person thought in a different way, they were successful.
A group of young pastors gathered in Washington, D.C. for an event I attended.  We gathered in the chapel at the capital building and prayed and sang.  We have found some courage from one another to try new things, to apply for grants, to start programs and to ask questions.  We are putting ourselves out there – and we do so knowing that there is a small community of support to help us.
Congregations in Cedar Rapids are responding to the changing communities around them and are throwing open their doors for native African congregations to meet in their midst.
The churches who have joined mine for the Co-Missioned transformation process are all taking risks and trying to pay attention to what the Holy Spirit is calling us to be and do.  We have had to let go of some things in order to embrace this time of listening and waiting.  It is hard, and it is scary to let go of what we think works for us.  But every time we do so, we have been blessed by God’s movement.

I want us to be more foolish. To be more daring. And to trust where the Spirit calls us. Don’t be afraid to step out there.  Don’t let your head tell you “no” when your heart is screaming “yes.” Don’t get caught up in this world’s definitions of success – numbers and money and power… just go where God tells you, wipe the dust off your feet if people don’t respond, and then go to the next place.  Don’t be afraid of failure.  Don’t worry about looking stupid.  Take up your cross, with foolish vigor, and follow.

the world is my parish


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Bishop Trimble recently reminded a group of young clergy that we are not appointed to congregations… we are appointed to communities.

It was something I had not really considered before he made that statement… and it was a refreshing thought.

In many ways, I had assumed that my ministry was both in my church and in the community that surrounds it.  That’s kind of the way my missionally-minded brain works.

But since he spoke them out loud, I have really taken his words to heart and have felt emboldened in the work I do “out there.”

If I’m honest, it might be one of my favorite parts of my job.

Way back when… okay, only three or four years ago… wait… holy crap… seven or eight years ago!… I thought I was called to be a deacon.  I felt that my ministry was as much about being out in the world as it ever was to be in a congregation.  I heard God calling me to be a bridge between the church and the world.  And that is the essence of what I understood the ministry of a deacon to be.

But then this little whisper started to tug at my soul.  It was the sacraments.  The bread and the wine and the water kept speaking to me.  And then they took hold.  My ministry might include the world… but God was also calling me to use the church as the vehicle of my ministry.  God was calling me to break bread as much as he was calling me to break barriers.

Long story short… my journey has come full circle.  I am now an ordained elder with sacramental authority AND I get to work in my community. God had a plan long before I could ever see it or understand it.
I’ve blogged before about my outreach and relationship building through funerals and weddings in the larger community. I have been the main organizer around the community worship in the park for the last two years – an amazing opportunity to share in worship with one another AND to share in the one loaf and the one cup.
What I have not done as well in my first three years of ministry was to get involved actively transforming the community.  But this year, my work with youth got to me.  I realized I had to go deeper to help them.  And somehow I’m now on a school improvement advisory committee and hosting an ongoing conversation about how the community can better support and encourage our youth.
This work is so completely different from what I do on a day to day basis in the church. Much of that difference has to do with having the authority of a pastor.

My ministry in my congregation is ministry “with”  not ministry “for.” I am not someone who throws around my weight… instead I see my role as empowering my people to do ministry themselves.  I would rather work alongside my parishoners than lead them.

But in the community, the role of the pastor takes on a different flavor.  As one youth parent said a couple of weeks ago, “When I go to the school office and talk about a problem, it’s more of the same.  When Pastor Katie says something, they listen.”

To be honest, that authority scares me a little.  But it is also exciting.  God has put me in a place where I can speak on behalf of these parents and I have a powerful voice.  God has put me in a place where I can make connections between people and provide a literal space for those new relationships. God has put me in a place where I have a real and tangible ability to make a difference.

Tonight, our little community group met again.  And while the start of this journey is small and the momentum is slow, I can already sense the possibilities.  I am energized by the true and living hope that God is doing something in Marengo.  And I pray with thanksgiving that I get to be a part of that work.

the disarming power of a story

Social Justice.

General Board of Church and Society.

Social Principles.

In some circles… those are swear words.

To take a stand, to say that the Bible speaks to our world today, to speak truth to power is DANGEROUS.

But it is also what we are called to do.

I found out about the GBCS Young Clergy Capital Hill Leadership Forum through an email and my first thought was: SIGN ME UP!

You see, I read my bible and I come across those passages where we are supposed to welcome the stranger… and then we have anti-immigration laws being bandied about in our states.  How do I preach God’s word in the midst of that?

I read my bible and I find this tension between life that doesn’t completely count as life in the laws of Exodus 21 and the idea that God knows us even in our mother’s wombs in Psalm 139.  How do I respond when our state legislature proposes changes to laws about abortion? How do I lead my congregation through a discussion where we can be open to God’s instruction and aware of the reality that surrounds us?

 

Photo by: Wayne Rhodes. Full article here.

 

So… I saw this event as an opportunity to educate myself even more about how to navigate the Bible, the positions that we take as United Methodists, and the lived reality of my parishoners.
What I did not expect was to be surrounded for four days by stories.

Day after day, presenter after presenter, we hear stories of call.  We heard stories of barriers broken down.  We heard stories of hope.  We heard stories of awareness and maturity.  We heard stories of belonging and stories of being on the outside.  We heard stories of mentors.  We heard stories of challenge.

Every single presenter told us where they were coming from.  They spoke out of their own faith experience.  They told us how they got to the place they are today.

And then, and only then, and with very little time remaining, they talked a little bit about the issues.

For a day or two, I have to admit that I was frustrated by this.  I was wanting some meat… some practical tools… some things to take home and do.

But then I realized that was exactly what I had recieved.

I realized that the simple act of telling your story changes the conversation.  When you tell the story of your faith and invite the person sitting across from you to tell yours – you no longer can hurl labels and threats.  You can no longer question that persons faith or sanity or patriotism.  You have met them as a person and now you must treat them as a person.

Any discussion of the issue starts from a completely different place.  It begins in a place of mutuality, of respect, of awareness that we are both children of God.

It starts in a place where we each have something to tell, we each have a way that this story has personally impacted our lives.  And so we move past the soundbytes and the bullet points to a place of real dialogue.

I came home from Washington, D.C. with the disarming power of a story.

You Are Mine…


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Baptism begins with repentance.

This water is cleansing water.
By diving in,
by letting this water pour over our finger tips,
we are saying that we want to live differently.

A strange man named John was led to call people to repentance.

He set up camp there at the Jordan River

and people were so moved by his call:

Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near,”

that they came to him from all over the place.

They were yearning for a chance to let go of their pasts,

to confess their sins,
and to be made clean.
There were of course other ways of repenting.

Official ways of repenting.

They could go to the temple and offer sacrifices for their sins.

The Day of Atonement was a yearly chance to let go of their transgressions.

They could pray for forgiveness like so many
of the prophets and psalmists and kings had done throughout scriptures.
But they were drawn in by John’s call.
They were moved by this tangible act
of letting themselves
be washed
by the waters
of the Jordan.

As the cold water drifted passed them,
the current took their sins away.

Baptism begins with repentance.

But it certainly doesn’t end there.

John the Baptizer himself knew that this repentance wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t enough to say, “I’m sorry.”
You actually had to live differently.
You had to bear fruits of repentance.
And he was aware we don’t always have what it takes.

John the Baptizer knew that this was only the beginning.
That water wasn’t enough.

He proclaimed that one was coming
Who would baptize with
The Holy Spirit
And with fire.
He proclaimed that one was coming
Who would not only forgive,
But set things right.
Someone was coming who would judge.

And then, out of nowhere
And I really do mean out of nowhere,
Because a couple of decades have passed between
We last saw him…
Jesus shows up.

He is no longer a baby.
No longer a child.
But a man.
And he steps into the river…

John is beside himself –
This isn’t right!
What are you doing!
You have it all backwards!
I’m supposed to be baptized by you…

But Jesus replies back gently:
It’s okay.
Let’s do it this way.
It’s proper.
It’s necessary.

Trembling, John helps to immerse Jesus
And as he comes up
Out of the water
The heavens open.

What that means, I don’t know.
Do the clouds part?
Does a gap in the blue sky appear?
Are their angels singing like at his birth?
Could anyone see it but him?
I don’t know that,
but I do know the heavens opened.

The heavens opened.
The Holy Spirit came down.
Like a dove it came down from the heavens
And landed on him.
t rested on him.
And there were words.
“This is my Son.”
“This is my beloved.”
“With him, I am well pleased.”

Jesus went into that water
Not because he needed to repent.
Not because he was unclean.
But for us.
He went into that water
So that we might go into the water.
So that we might let go of our sins
So that we might be made sons and daughters of God
So that the Spirit might flow into our lives.
Jesus went in that water
To fulfill our righteousness.

And then he leaves.
Jesus gets up from the water.
The Spirit takes him into the wilderness.
And we are left standing at the Jordan.

Only not really.
Because we know the rest of the story.
We know that what began
As water for repentance
Became water and spirit
Became newness of life
Became a beginning that was not only a fresh start
But the power to be different

What began as water for repentance
Became a mark on our souls that can never go away.
“You are mine,” God says.
“I love you,” God says.
“Don’t forget it,” God says.

Don’t forget it when you look out on this world:
This broken, bleeding, bruised world.
Carry my mark with you.
Love others, serve them, bind up their wounds.

Don’t forget it when you listen to the hatred in this world:
Remember I have called you to bring peace.
I have called you to trust in grace and mercy.
I have called you to renounce evil.
Carry my mark with you.
Don’t be afraid.

“You are mine,” God says.
“Don’t forget it.”

But how often do we forget.

How often do we forget that Jesus is our Lord and Savior
And try trusting in something else… like money or security.

How often do we fail to be Christ’s disciple
And we disobey his very word.

How often do we embrace evil and take pleasure in violence
Rather than stand against them.

How often do we use and abuse God’s name
To get what we want…
Not what God wants.

Many of us have taken the vows of baptism.
We have said them as adults.
Or we have confirmed the vows our parents took.
Some of us are parents
Who hold these vows for our children
Until they are ready to accept them themselves.

These vows are not just words we say
They are promises.
Promises that we have left behind us evil and sin and injustice
Promises that we will stand with our Lord.
Promises that we trust in his grace.

Martin Luther once said:
Everytime you wash your hands
Everytime you wash your face
You should remember your baptism
You should remember that you are God’s child
You should remember that you have made promises.

We need to remember.
We need to remember so that
When violence breaks out we can shout, “no.”
When pain is felt, we can say, “no.”
When darkness rears its ugly head, we can say, “no.”

We need to remember.
So that
we can say “YES” to hope.
“YES” to life.
“YES” to the good news that God has not abandoned us.
We need to remember
So that we are not afraid to say, YES and NO.

A colleague wrote these words yesterday
In the wake of the shootings in Tuscson…
In the wake of remembering Jesus baptism
In the wake of remembering her baptism:

“How do I preach on baptism and not address that we have witnessed the power of evil in this world practically firsthand today – and yet vow to renounce it.

“How do I preach on baptism and not address that obeying His Word and showing his love are action verbs, especially in the light of an event that is dangerously close to stunning us into silence and inaction?

“How do I preach the Good News in the shadow that has been cast by the news of a 9 year old girl’s senseless death?

“Our nation’s rhetoric has once again driven someone who is unstable to do the unthinkable and although we may not be in Arizona, there is still blood on our hands and ONLY the waters of baptism can wash them off. (kathrynzj)“

These vows are our calling.
They are our responsibility.
These waters wash us clean.
And the spirit gives us strength.

It has been said that we should
Face the world
With a newspaper in one hand

And a bible in the other
(Karl Barth)
We need to be able to face the world

And face it in all its reality
Good news and bad
Tragedy and pain, joy and celebration
And we need to be able to say, YES and NO

Yes to the things that bring life.

No to the things that bring death.

But we cannot do it

Without our baptisms.

We cannot do it
Unless the Spirit has our back.

“Do not be afraid,” God says.
“I love you.”
“You are mine.”

I believe… help my unbelief

http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=amomono&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B000WCN8PA&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifrThe other night, I sat down to watch a film that has been in my Netflix queue for a while now:  King of California.  It’s the story of a young woman and her mentally questionable father and his quest to find buried treasure beneath their suburban community.  It’s quiet, a little quirky, but all and all a really good flick.

I think the thing that stuck with me long after the movie ended was the idea that you could follow along with someone – even if you weren’t entirely sure you believed.  The character, Miranda, is about 90% sure that her father is full of crap, and yet she loves him and is interested in the possibility that he might be on to something.  She follows him all over the countryside.  She listens to his ramblings.  She does some reading and research of her own.  She gives up her job in order to get hired on with the Costco her dad thinks the treasure is buried beneath.  In spite of every instinct in her body that tells her he is absolutely crazy… she goes along with the plan.  She is there.  But she doesn’t believe.

There are many days that I feel that way about my faith.  I know that God loves me.  And I want to love God with all of my heart, soul, mind and strength.  But I’m not always sure what on earth we are all doing.  I’m going along with the plan… seeing how things turn out… but there are absolutely doubts. I listen.  I read.  I would love to believe it all hook, line and sinker.  But there is too much of a scientific rationalist in my heart.  So I’m here.  I’m doing it.  I’m sticking it out.  But…   

There is that “but”.  And I often worry about that “but.” I worry that I’m not faithful enough.  I worry that the little “but” in the back of my mind is going to be my downfall.  I worry that maybe I am just going through the motions. 

King of California reminded me that it’s okay to have questions.  Miranda was a faithful and loving daughter.  She would have done anything for her father.  She did the best that she could with what she had – and that included having questions, and doubts, and acting out in faith in spite of them. 

Maybe that’s the key… acting in spite of our doubts.  Taking the leap of faith – even when it goes against every instinct in our bodies.  Deciding to follow – even if we are pretty sure that we have no idea where we are going.  Taking all of those doubts and carrying them with us and not ignoring them… but not letting them keep us from finding out the truth, either. 

There is a scene at the end – and I don’t know that I’ll ruin any of the plot if I say this – when something that Charlie (the dad) said actually came true.  Miranda is standing by the ocean at sunrise and a bunch of chinese men and women come running out of the ocean wearing only their underwear.  And she gets this look on her face – this look of curious wonder.  She saw for her own eyes the truth.  I pray that I might keep my eyes open and someday see for myself… see it all as it really is… and finally know.  Until then  I’m going to take my doubtful leap of faith and see what happens.