I just went to our season's first garden meeting. Eight perfectly sane adults plotting plots for their community garden. Like children on Christmas eve, visions of planting, hoeing, watering and harvesting were dancing in our heads. Hope springs eternal.
Leadership
We named a "crop director" to assure proper produce volumes for our local soup kitchen. We offered the position of "flower child," in hopes of beautifying the garden. We looked like adoring parents at pictures of last year's harvest. And we ate chips and salsa...the latter which produce of such meetings last year.
Cooperation
We agreed that each person with a plot, should assist with the community portion of the garden. This is the part that serves the soup kitchen. I remember last year a crop of green beans came on quickly, and I took an hour or so in the noon time heat to gather them. Later that afternoon another member snapped and delivered them to a food pantry.
Kingdom Realities
It seems to me these garden realities are a microcosm of larger dreams. We people of God's kingdom have this crazy idea that the world can change; not only are we "saving souls," we are a part of the Creator saving the world. We believe he wants to set all things right. We are gardening the world together.
There are so many things in life that happen best in community; so many blessings we miss by being lone rangers. If you aren't into gardening, find your niche and chip in with a community to accomplish something. There are things we can do together which just won't happen solo. And so it is with the Kingdom of God and the church.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
The Other Side of the Struggle: Sunday Joys
If Saturday evenings brings "soul flu" to this pastor, Sunday brings healing. It's amazing to me the relief and joy that I feel the moment I'm with the people from our congregation. Even before the pressure of delivering the sermon is relieved, the presence of the people at our church brings me joy.
Good Day
Today was such a day. Immediately after entering the building, I asked a young man if he could speak with me for a moment. I issued him a huge challenge. I asked him to add another one hour meeting to his week, to commit to reading 25 chapters of scripture each week and then to meeting with me for a time of prayer, discussion of what we'd read and then a series of heavy accountability questions. He immediately said "Yes."
Walking through the various areas of the church, I was encouraged by the way people were loving one another. Before the worship service, two men prayed for me. And during the service, I felt free and strong. Delivering my sermon felt...well, it just felt right.
There is a friend at church who says, " I love it when you struggle with your sermons on Saturday, because it means we will hear something we need on Sunday.
The Other Side of the Struggle
So, after the moaning about how tough it is to deliver a sermon last weekend, and after telling you about "Saturday night fever" last night; I thought it appropriate to let you in on the good side of things.
There is nothing like Sunday afternoon, when all has gone well, and I've spoken the words which needed said; and all of us have responded as we needed to.
It's Sunday night, and I'm feeling relieved and fortunate to serve the people of my congregation. I think I'll sleep well.
Good Day
Today was such a day. Immediately after entering the building, I asked a young man if he could speak with me for a moment. I issued him a huge challenge. I asked him to add another one hour meeting to his week, to commit to reading 25 chapters of scripture each week and then to meeting with me for a time of prayer, discussion of what we'd read and then a series of heavy accountability questions. He immediately said "Yes."
Walking through the various areas of the church, I was encouraged by the way people were loving one another. Before the worship service, two men prayed for me. And during the service, I felt free and strong. Delivering my sermon felt...well, it just felt right.
There is a friend at church who says, " I love it when you struggle with your sermons on Saturday, because it means we will hear something we need on Sunday.
The Other Side of the Struggle
So, after the moaning about how tough it is to deliver a sermon last weekend, and after telling you about "Saturday night fever" last night; I thought it appropriate to let you in on the good side of things.
There is nothing like Sunday afternoon, when all has gone well, and I've spoken the words which needed said; and all of us have responded as we needed to.
It's Sunday night, and I'm feeling relieved and fortunate to serve the people of my congregation. I think I'll sleep well.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Saturday Night Fever
It's Saturday night. And I have what I sometimes call the "soul flu," it's a common Saturday malady for me.
A pastor friend posted this description on his facebook yesterday:
"God has given me an important message for Sunday. Problem is I haven't found the words to deliver it yet. Just a weight right now is the only way for me to describe it. I could use prayer."
This is how I described sermon delivery last Sunday night:
"They hurt while they form inside of you. They can make you feel sick. They make you doubt your ability to produce them. They stretch and push the limits of the bone and sinew of your soul."
For Those of You Who Have Pastors
I guess this is a post for those of you who have pastors or priests. Pray for them tonight. Saturday nights, even if they don't have Saturday evening services, are not laid-back or relaxing evenings. Your pastor, wherever she or he is, is probably thinking about tomorrow...and feeling quite inadequate.
A pastor friend posted this description on his facebook yesterday:
"God has given me an important message for Sunday. Problem is I haven't found the words to deliver it yet. Just a weight right now is the only way for me to describe it. I could use prayer."
This is how I described sermon delivery last Sunday night:
"They hurt while they form inside of you. They can make you feel sick. They make you doubt your ability to produce them. They stretch and push the limits of the bone and sinew of your soul."
For Those of You Who Have Pastors
I guess this is a post for those of you who have pastors or priests. Pray for them tonight. Saturday nights, even if they don't have Saturday evening services, are not laid-back or relaxing evenings. Your pastor, wherever she or he is, is probably thinking about tomorrow...and feeling quite inadequate.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Controversy Regarding THE RUNAWAY PASTOR, and Its Impact on a Sequel
Yesterday I mentioned encouragement I often receive regarding my first novel--The Runaway Pastor. I also, however, receive other helpful feedback. Here is what I mean.
What's Missing
Some feel they are left out on a limb in the midst of the storyline. A few who have read the book say they feel betrayed by Trent, the lead character. They are bothered that he passionately seeks to make a failed marriage right. But he seems to make no such effort toward his pursuit of pastoral ministry.
I understand he needs to deal with his calling. This should be addressed in the sequel. But you need to know, that there are many different opinions about how he should or would move forward.
Speaking for the Silent
If you read the reviews on amazon, you will notice that many pastors feel understood. I hear this over and over. I imagine that there are many who feel, as one reviewer indicated, exposed. And some probably feel betrayed.
There are lay people and clergy alike who indicate a strong disrespect for Trent, his running, and what follows. It is beneath the dignity of the calling. Others, via subtle remarks, let me know their disrespect is for me, for airing the issues in such a raw way.
Resolve, and the Bigger Issue
The sequel will need to resolve some of these issues regarding Trent and his marriage, and Trent and his calling. Resolving conflict, however, will not please all readers.
I think the bigger issue is the state of the clergy. And I truly wish more people were interested in the numbers who are leaving ministry and losing marriages.
Following my sabbatical last fall, I have been renewed in passion for my calling. But most have no sabbatical hopes. And many pastors (or their wives) are simply soldiering-on--until the day they can retire, or step away--to avoid the tragedy of running.
How do you want to see Trent choose regarding these issues? What is realistic? What is right? And what is it you would want if you were any of the major characters, or the congregation at Baylor's Bend? What would The Runaway Pastor do?
What's Missing
Some feel they are left out on a limb in the midst of the storyline. A few who have read the book say they feel betrayed by Trent, the lead character. They are bothered that he passionately seeks to make a failed marriage right. But he seems to make no such effort toward his pursuit of pastoral ministry.
I understand he needs to deal with his calling. This should be addressed in the sequel. But you need to know, that there are many different opinions about how he should or would move forward.
Speaking for the Silent
If you read the reviews on amazon, you will notice that many pastors feel understood. I hear this over and over. I imagine that there are many who feel, as one reviewer indicated, exposed. And some probably feel betrayed.
There are lay people and clergy alike who indicate a strong disrespect for Trent, his running, and what follows. It is beneath the dignity of the calling. Others, via subtle remarks, let me know their disrespect is for me, for airing the issues in such a raw way.
Resolve, and the Bigger Issue
The sequel will need to resolve some of these issues regarding Trent and his marriage, and Trent and his calling. Resolving conflict, however, will not please all readers.
I think the bigger issue is the state of the clergy. And I truly wish more people were interested in the numbers who are leaving ministry and losing marriages.
Following my sabbatical last fall, I have been renewed in passion for my calling. But most have no sabbatical hopes. And many pastors (or their wives) are simply soldiering-on--until the day they can retire, or step away--to avoid the tragedy of running.
How do you want to see Trent choose regarding these issues? What is realistic? What is right? And what is it you would want if you were any of the major characters, or the congregation at Baylor's Bend? What would The Runaway Pastor do?
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Runaway Pastor Who Never Ran
This week's M11 Conference provided a fresh wind of life to my soul, and no doubt thousands of others who attended. Worship services, seminars and visits with friends were such a great winter pick-up.
A gratifying aspect for me was all of the comments about my book, The Runaway Pastor. I received simple compliments, a few raving thank-you's including one tear-filled embrace of gratefulness. The book has become a tool for providing help in pastors' marriages.
Protagonist and Author: Two Different People
As a new author, it is surprising how many people struggle separating the writer of the novel from the protagonist of the story. People seem to wonder if I had run away from ministry or my wife? It was nice to report both a ministry and a marriage that I love. A ministry and marriage for which I am so grateful.
Painful Realities
It is always sad to hear some of the stories you hear at these events. Pastors who have quit, or who have been "sent away" from ministry, are more and more common. You meet servants who are wounded and hoping to be filled up for "one more go at it."
I guess having written such a story as The Runaway Pastor puts me in a position to hear stories--stories of depression or of wanting to quit, as well as stories of those who can't believe anyone would struggle in those ways. I felt like a magnet to such conversations this week.
Of all things, I'm most grateful to hear again and again those testimonies saying the book has been a help for pastors' marriages. That alone is worth it all.
Tomorrow: Why I need to Write a Sequel
A gratifying aspect for me was all of the comments about my book, The Runaway Pastor. I received simple compliments, a few raving thank-you's including one tear-filled embrace of gratefulness. The book has become a tool for providing help in pastors' marriages.
Protagonist and Author: Two Different People
As a new author, it is surprising how many people struggle separating the writer of the novel from the protagonist of the story. People seem to wonder if I had run away from ministry or my wife? It was nice to report both a ministry and a marriage that I love. A ministry and marriage for which I am so grateful.
Painful Realities
It is always sad to hear some of the stories you hear at these events. Pastors who have quit, or who have been "sent away" from ministry, are more and more common. You meet servants who are wounded and hoping to be filled up for "one more go at it."
I guess having written such a story as The Runaway Pastor puts me in a position to hear stories--stories of depression or of wanting to quit, as well as stories of those who can't believe anyone would struggle in those ways. I felt like a magnet to such conversations this week.
Of all things, I'm most grateful to hear again and again those testimonies saying the book has been a help for pastors' marriages. That alone is worth it all.
Tomorrow: Why I need to Write a Sequel
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Pentecost's strength is passing, and must ever be sought anew...
The night moves in quietly around me. Life is here in this room, comforting and illusive. Pentecost's strength is passing, and must ever be sought anew in the mines of prayer.
Convention Motivations
M11 has been a powerful wind in my sails. I've been to enough conventions to know, however, that ideas come and go. Passions rise and fall. Methods are here today, and replaced tomorrow.
But there are movings within that require more than seminar attention, or a brief flurry of action after returning home. These demand obedience over the long haul.
Prayer Continues
And so again tonight I take the book of prayer from my briefcase, and worship in the privacy of this room in my host's home. I come before the Mighty One and seek.
Strength moves in quietly around me. Necessary strength is here in this room, comforting now, and needed for my tomorrows. But tomorrow's strength will be mined in the place of prayer tomorrow, yet again and again, once more.
There is no reservoir in which to store Pentecost. I'll need come to seek the upper room first thing tomorrow, and then throughout my days, forever, while here. Pentecost's strength is passing, and must ever be sought anew in the mines of prayer.
Convention Motivations
M11 has been a powerful wind in my sails. I've been to enough conventions to know, however, that ideas come and go. Passions rise and fall. Methods are here today, and replaced tomorrow.
But there are movings within that require more than seminar attention, or a brief flurry of action after returning home. These demand obedience over the long haul.
Prayer Continues
And so again tonight I take the book of prayer from my briefcase, and worship in the privacy of this room in my host's home. I come before the Mighty One and seek.
Strength moves in quietly around me. Necessary strength is here in this room, comforting now, and needed for my tomorrows. But tomorrow's strength will be mined in the place of prayer tomorrow, yet again and again, once more.
There is no reservoir in which to store Pentecost. I'll need come to seek the upper room first thing tomorrow, and then throughout my days, forever, while here. Pentecost's strength is passing, and must ever be sought anew in the mines of prayer.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Home Away from Home
It's morning. Spent the night with some extended family in Louisville. Dinner together sort of--at different times according to the American way.
I'm attending the M11 Conference here. Today I will begin again walking from room to room in the bowels of an unfamiliar conference center. I'll hope to pick-up Truth in each gathering, and I'll enjoy seeing friends I've not seen in so very long.
The worship service last night was excellent. The music was from scripture and scripture was woven through each song and between each song. The preaching was mighty--think powerful African American speaker with the lofty promises of Ezekiel 36-37. I was encouraged in my quiet way; while the congregation was encouraged in a noisier way. It was good.
The highlight of the evening. The best moment--beyond the long missed friends and hugs and masterful sermon--came earlier in the service. We were asked to gather for prayer in groups of two or three. I had gone alone, and so I gathered with those near my seat.
When the man named David across from me began to pray, there was music in my soul. Somehow his simple and familiar vocabulary allowed me to comprehend each Spanish word and phrase. I had never met him. We were brothers. Within me, I wanted to tell him so.
His prayer closed with, "Thank you for these brothers of mine, our Lord." And as the crowd dispersed, I didn't have the opportunity to speak again with him. Perhaps I never will. But the truth of our brotherhood will remain.
I'm here with people I know and people I don't. And along the way, as I miss my family and friends, I realize that I'm home, away from home.
I'm attending the M11 Conference here. Today I will begin again walking from room to room in the bowels of an unfamiliar conference center. I'll hope to pick-up Truth in each gathering, and I'll enjoy seeing friends I've not seen in so very long.
The worship service last night was excellent. The music was from scripture and scripture was woven through each song and between each song. The preaching was mighty--think powerful African American speaker with the lofty promises of Ezekiel 36-37. I was encouraged in my quiet way; while the congregation was encouraged in a noisier way. It was good.
The highlight of the evening. The best moment--beyond the long missed friends and hugs and masterful sermon--came earlier in the service. We were asked to gather for prayer in groups of two or three. I had gone alone, and so I gathered with those near my seat.
When the man named David across from me began to pray, there was music in my soul. Somehow his simple and familiar vocabulary allowed me to comprehend each Spanish word and phrase. I had never met him. We were brothers. Within me, I wanted to tell him so.
His prayer closed with, "Thank you for these brothers of mine, our Lord." And as the crowd dispersed, I didn't have the opportunity to speak again with him. Perhaps I never will. But the truth of our brotherhood will remain.
I'm here with people I know and people I don't. And along the way, as I miss my family and friends, I realize that I'm home, away from home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)