Palm Sunday

Time for an odds and ends post.

Today was Evan's last official day to sing in the children's choir. His voice is changing. He still has soprano notes, although not as high as in the past, but he is developing his lower range and struggling with his mid-range. He will continue attending Schola Cantorum rehearsals through the end of the year, helping out our novice program (welcoming new young singers), but we have told him he doesn't have to sing with the choir any more after today. Seeing as how I don't have anyone waiting in the wings to take his place, it would seem my choir mom days are over (sigh).

Here are a couple of pics, serious and silly, of our group today. We sure do love them.

We were hoping one of the above pictured choristers would agree to sing the solo stanza of "A Lamb Goes Uncomplaining Forth" at the Good Friday service, but there have been no takers. Today when I told Evan that it is looking like his dad or I might have to do it, he was quite alarmed. But it's supposed to be a child's voice! Yes, son, I know. Evan is thinking he might just have to step up to the plate one more time.

In other news, we had some hail the other day.

The storm chasers were around the very next day leaving flyers on doorknobs.

College kids will not be home for Easter. Silly academic calendars. But four weeks from today I will drive to Missouri to pick up Caitlin, and a few days after that we'll all go to Fort Worth to see Trevor receive his Master's degree in music! Speaking of Trevor, he has accepted an invitation to pursue his Doctor of Musical Arts at the University of Iowa. He is receiving a full tuition scholarship plus a teaching and accompanying stipend. We are very, very happy!

This past week I wrote an article on the Benedict Option which got a little traction. Then yesterday I posted something seemingly unrelated on Facebook. And yet as I think more about the previous link, which is about the shortage of organists in the Church, I am starting to connect it to the Benedict Option. The basic idea of the Benedict Option is that many who would claim the name "Christian" are losing touch with what that actually means. In other words, we call ourselves Christian, but we aren't living and worshiping so as to preserve and pass on the faith to future generations. While the Church in other parts of the world is growing, here in America (and other parts of the Western world) it is shrinking. The Benedict Option calls for Christians to see the gravity of this situation and take steps to turn it around. Author Rod Dreher argues that before we can share our Christian faith with others, we need to reclaim it for ourselves.

So how does that connect to an article about the shortage of organists? As I think about my own church body, which is often called the singing church because of the emphasis it puts on music, it seems to me that we are in many quarters losing touch with that part of our identity. After I posted the above article on Facebook there was much discussion about the difficulty of finding musicians, paying for musicians, and supporting congregational song. Many churches are giving up and going to recorded tracks. This is a terrible, terrible development. The more we rely on such measures the more likely it is that there will be even fewer church musicians in the future.

I am starting to think that, while it's great that we send missionaries to foreign lands (and my husband is one who goes), we might need to give some thought to what we can do to shore up our own churches and our own worship. It doesn't appear to me that we are doing what needs to be done to preserve our musical and liturgical heritage. It's not something that is just magically going to survive because we want it to. In the same way we need to be intentional about living out our Christian faith, we need to be intentional about passing on the gift of music and liturgy. There is so much more we could be doing, and it deeply frustrates me how as a church body we give lip service to it but don't really do anything about it.

Enough of that for now. The hour has come. A blessed Holy Week to you and yours.


Palm Sunday Verse/Hymn of the Day from Cheryl on Vimeo.

"Where Two or Three Are Gathered"

Last night at the first of our two Christmas Eve services I found myself sitting alone. Phillip was playing organ, Evan was acolyting, and my other two children were planning to come to the later service. When it came time to light the candles at the end of the service, I walked to the other end of the pew I was sitting in. There was an older couple there, one I have seen many times but never formally met. As I approached them to light my candle from theirs, the woman smiled, reached out her arms to hug me, and said, "I love you." Surprised but touched, I returned the hug and said, "I love you, too!" Then, still holding my arms on either side, this wonderful woman looked me in the eyes and said, "You are so beautiful. I love your outfit." I thanked her for her kindness and started to go back to my place but thought better of it and continued standing next to her as we sang "Silent Night" to close the service. At the end of the service she wished me a merry Christmas and I wished her the same.

It's my first Christmas without my mom, and it's been kind of hard. But it feels like last night God sent me a little surrogate mothering. Not that I should be surprised. It's what church is all about, isn't it?

I pray you have been blessed to gather with the faithful this weekend. If not, don't wait any longer. Go.

"For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them.” - Matthew 18:20

A Noble Task

I keep seeing this post getting shared on Facebook. Every time I do, I cringe anew. I have a very difficult time understanding how anyone could find it to be helpful.

The author begins by asking a few questions. I would like to answer them.

Would you go to the church on the corner knowing that the pastor is an ex-con? 

Yes. 

What about the congregation three streets over, where the pastor is prone to lying? 

No.

The pastor at the store-front church who’s always questioning the truth about what the Gospels say about Jesus? 

No. (Really? This needs to be said?)

What about bad language? If the new pastor has a potty-mouth, would you still regularly attend church? 

And risk my children hearing their pastor saying things for which they would be punished? Um, no.

What if he’s kind of a thug too? 

No, no, no.

Here's the deal. "Ex-con" means that the man has repented of his previous sinful lifestyle. We are all sinners, pastors included. Someone who has repented and been forgiven and now rejects the sinful behavior should not have it held over his head the rest of his life or be prevented from using his God-given gifts and talents to serve a suffering world.

The problem with the rest of the questions is that they indicate ongoing behavior. One who is "prone" to lying is one who does so habitually. One who is "always" questioning the truth about what the Gospels say has no business teaching those Gospels. Someone who "has a potty-mouth" (as opposed to occasionally slipping and saying a bad word) demonstrates an inability or unwillingness to attempt to moderate his habit of speech out of love for his flock. Someone who is (not was) a thug is one who repeatedly acts in thug-like ways, bullying people, lording over them, running his church like a mob boss.

So to answer the broader question, no. Assuming I had a choice, I wouldn't go to a church like that. Yes, we all sin. We all fail every day. By the grace of God we repent and are forgiven. Sometimes even then we fall into the very same sin again. Again we turn to our Lord and repent and again He forgives. But if we get to a place where we don't see the sin as sin or where we view ourselves as prisoners to sin, hopeless to ever stop it, constantly throwing ourselves on God's mercy again and again because He forgives again and again, we are to my thinking in a very dangerous place. "It's just the way I am. But God will forgive me."

Yes, He will. But at what point have we quit being truly sorry, telling ourselves before we even commit the sin, "I can do this because afterward God will forgive me"? It is extremely treacherous territory, and when it is institutionalized into the life of a congregation because that congregation's shepherd is constantly hiding behind the Gospel, never truly repenting but constantly excusing and rationalizing bad behavior, that is not a church I could feel safe at. I am frankly dumbfounded that this sort of thinking is being promoted as something good.

I don't know--perhaps I am extra sensitive on this matter because I have in the past been hurt by my church and pastor. But my suggestion to anyone reading and sharing this piece is to go study 1 Timothy 3 and think long and hard about the ramifications of going to a church with a pastor who does not appreciate the seriousness of the calling with which he has been entrusted. The spiritual and emotional damage that can be done by such a man is real and long-lasting. 

(P. S. And don't tell me there's no such thing as a perfect church or a perfect pastor. God disabused me of that notion a long time ago and I am very thankful He did. But there is such a thing as a safe and healthy church, and there is such a thing as a faithful, upright, and loving pastor. And when you seek out a church home you are justified in looking for both.)

A Regular Guy? (From the Archives) - 1 Timothy 3

Facebook reminded me that I wrote and posted this article three years ago today. My opinion hasn't changed. I give thanks for all the pastors I have known, including my current ones, who understand and take to heart Paul's charge to the overseer.  

I have been pondering this for a while. In my life I have known quite a few men "of the cloth" (pastors, priests, preachers, etc.). With many of them I have observed a certain quality that I find it difficult to put my finger on.  I have seen it in both priests (I used to be Roman Catholic) and Lutheran pastors as well as ministers from other denominations. For lack of a better word, they are "pastoral." There is something that is just a little different about them, something that sets them apart from the rest of us. Again, it is hard to define and describe, but some of the qualities that come to mind are thoughtfulness, quietness, dignity, caring, kindness, peacefulness, gentleness, serenity, self-control and calm. In short, they are Christ-like. I am probably going to get raked over the coals for saying this, but I also appreciate pastors/priests who in their own demonstration of propriety and decorum make  "regular" people want to behave better than they otherwise might. In the same way that I as a parent try not to let my children see me sin (even though I do sin) because I don't want my sin to lead them astray, I appreciate pastors who set a good example with regard to their use of language and their choices in entertainment, dress, behavior, etc. I think men who are charged with standing in for Christ in the worship service often carry some of that aura of holiness into their everyday lives, and I think that is a good thing.

At the same time, I understand that pastors are sinners like the rest of us. Believe me, I understand. But it seems that there are some pastors who, in their effort to warn us about the worthlessness of our own good deeds, go out of their way to put the baser aspects of their humanity on display. Similarly, there are some lay people who go out of their way to encourage pastors in this anti-pietism crusade. This doesn't make sense to me. Does not Paul himself call the overseer to a higher standard of behavior than those he oversees?

The saying is trustworthy: If anyone aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a noble task. Therefore an overseer must be above reproach, the husband of one wife, sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable,able to teach, not a drunkard, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money. He must manage his own household well, with all dignity keeping his children submissive, for if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he care for God's church? He must not be a recent convert, or he may become puffed up with conceit and fall into the condemnation of the devil. Moreover, he must be well thought of by outsiders, so that he may not fall into disgrace, into a snare of the devil. (1 Timothy 3:1-7)

I take the statements that the overseer should be "respectable" and "well thought of by outsiders" to be a call for him to adhere to a high enough standard of speech and behavior that he will not confuse, offend, or lead astray one of his sheep or miss the opportunity to minister to someone in need. In my opinion, then, a pastor should not use foul language. He should not tell dirty jokes or use racial slurs. He should use good manners and exhibit modesty in his behavior and moderation in his lifestyle. He should be humble and act like a gentleman, not drawing excessive attention to himself. These are all things I try to do in my own life so as to set a good example for my children; I think my pastor, and pastors in general, should make the same effort for us their sheep. I realize that pastors fail as we all do. But we will all fail less often if we make the effort to begin with.

One final thought. I find it puzzling that sometimes the same people who promote the "Pastors are sinners like the rest of us so don't expect them to behave any better or differently" mantra are the very same people who will blindly follow a pastor simply because he is the pastor and he cannot possibly be at fault. This seems to me a disconnect. If the pastor is a sinner like the next guy, isn't it possible that he has actually somewhere along the way made a mistake or committed a sin? And if so, shouldn't he have that sin pointed out so that he can be brought to repentance and forgiveness like anyone else? And isn't doing so actually a good and positive thing for him (and his sheep) if it leads to a recognition of sin and a change in behavior going forward?

I guess what I am trying to say is that while I realize the man in the clerical suit is a sinful human being, I also look to him as a father figure and teacher, one who has been called to high and holy purpose, and as a result I hope and expect of him certain attributes and behaviors that I don't necessarily expect of the person sitting next to me in the pew. I also hope and expect that when he sins, which he surely does, he does not hide behind his office but readily acknowledges his failings and in so doing models the humility with which we should each approach the cross of our crucified Christ.

Did you go to church today?

If so, did you sing?

If you answered yes, thank you. Because if you answered yes, you blessed your brothers and sisters in Christ, and you blessed me. If, on the other hand, you didn't sing, but only sat while those around you did so, you missed a God-given opportunity to encourage and build up, and be built up by, the Body of Christ.

Faithful church folk often give thought to how they might serve their neighbors in the congregation. Typically, they think of things like providing meals to those in need; getting involved in church governance; volunteering in the church office; serving as ushers, greeters and Altar Guild members; teaching Sunday School or VBS; or setting up for coffee hour. The list could go on. Maybe you do some of these things, or maybe you do something else. But if you aren't singing during church, you are overlooking one of the most basic callings you have as a member of a Christian congregation.

It is also one of the easiest ways you can serve, requiring no extra time on your part. You're in church anyway, right? And you have a functioning larynx? That's all you need. Contrary to what you might think, singing in church doesn't require any special training. God doesn't care whether you have a beautiful singing voice or whether you can read music and sing the right notes and rhythms, and neither do I. All that is required for this most important work is faith, the faith that was given to you in Baptism and the faith that is nourished each week as you hear the Word and receive the Sacraments. It is that faith which sings. It is that faith which cannot help but sing.

Please, dear friends. Sing. I need to hear you. My child needs to hear you. When his mind and his eyes wander, and he starts looking around the sanctuary, he needs to see not only his parents singing, but the people around him singing, with gusto. He needs for the Word of God to dwell in those around him so richly that he hears it coming at him from every corner of the room. I try my best to sing every stanza of every hymn and every line of liturgy, but sometimes I falter. Sometimes my voice cracks, or I run out of breath, or something in the hymn causes my throat to tighten and tears to well up so that I am unable to make it through to the end. That's when I need to hear you--behind me, beside me, in front of me--carrying on. That's when my family needs to hear you. And when you can't keep going, then it will be my turn to carry on for you. Together, only together, are we able to sing through to the very end.

I am a trained musician. But when I am in church what discourages me is not wrong notes or off-key singing. What discourages me is lack of singing. When you don't sing, not only do I miss out on what your voice has to contribute to the song of the assembled saints, but you miss out, too. When you passively sit while others sing, you are not experiencing the words as richly as you otherwise could. That is not to say that the Word is not having its way with you. But you are denying yourself the opportunity to have those words enter and take up residence in your being in yet another, God-given manner. And that is a grievous thing.

As the wife of a church musician, and as a church musician myself, I have heard lots of singing in church. And the truth is that some who might be tagged as the "worst" singers have over the years most beautifully sung faith into my heart. Why? Because they don't hold back. They don't worry about how they sound. They sing, from the depth of their being, because they can do no other. And in doing so, they testify to the faith they have been given and thereby build up those around them.

Along with the prophet Jeremiah, let us not just gaze upon and smell the great banquet of Psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs that our dear Father has provided for our nourishment. Let us swallow them down ravenously and come back for more. Let us serve them up in abundance for those who join us at the table, passing the plate around, one to the next, sending it back to the Chef to get reloaded, and passing it around again. It's a feast meant to be shared, and there's a place for you, no matter how messy an eater (or singer) you may be.

 Your words were found, and I ate them,
    and your words became to me a joy
    and the delight of my heart,
for I am called by your name,
    O Lord, God of hosts. (Jeremiah 15:16)

Here are few more Bible verses that speak of the singing nature of the Christian faith.

Sweet

Today at church, Evan and I shared one of those moments. You know the kind I'm talking about--when you're so full of Jesus that you think you might just burst.  I hugged him and he leaned his head on my shoulder and I whispered, "Isn't church great?" He smiled and nodded and then replied, "When I was little, like about three years old, I didn't understand church. I didn't know what to do and I just waited for it to be over. But now I get it."

Like I said. Sweet. :-)

This Is Getting Hard

Our house has been on the market about two months now. (Phillip has been gone about three months, as it took us a while to get the house ready to list.) We have had many showings but no offers. There has been very little in the way of negative feedback. I know that all we need is for the right person to see it, and that could happen any day--maybe today! Two months is really not that long. But a little voice inside me has started asking, "What if?" When we first put the house on the market I didn't look much past Christmas. And my vision of Christmas was that by that time surely we would have sold the house. I pictured us spending Christmas together in a new house in Oklahoma. But now that little "what if" voice has made itself known, and lately it has been getting louder. What if we don't sell any time soon? What if fall drags into winter, and winter drags into spring, and we're still here, waiting?

It's not just the living apart from my husband that makes this hard, although that's the biggest part of it. It's the realization that this is Caitlin's last year at home before college, and she could end up spending it without her father as a daily presence in her life (and vice versa). It's the realization that Evan has already missed out on one year of singing in his dad's children's choir, and now he is working on year two. It's the realization that we gave up a lot of things on the assumption that we would not be here to participate in them. The feeling of loss regarding those things will be even greater if it turns out we could have kept them in our lives one more year.

And yet as I write this, I feel like a big baby. I know of women who have had to spend much more time living apart from their husbands than I have. I know of women who are permanently without their husbands, rearing children on their own. Who am I to complain? The children and I have the familiarity of our home, our well-traveled paths, and each other. I have more free time than I've had in years! Meanwhile, Phillip is all alone, trying to learn a new job while not having a place he can really call home (he is boarding in a parishioner's house). He has the much harder "row to hoe." And yet he doesn't complain, but spends his time on the phone trying to build me up after working 16-hour days. He puts me to shame.

Once upon a time there was a church I loved too much. It's not my church anymore. There were some friends I needed too much. They're not in my life anymore. I have been told that I love my husband too much. He lives in another state now. Maybe if I loved this house more it would finally sell. . . .

What Is Essential?

Just preserving a thought I had a few days ago. It has to do with music and worship. As my friends and long-time readers know, I believe the historic liturgy of the church is a gift of which we are foolish to deny ourselves. It is, after all, nothing more than God's word for His people, and to jettison it in favor of something less grounded in Scripture is to impoverish our worship life. I think this is the primary problem with that modern worship phenomenon known as the praise band. Typically, to make room in the service for the band's songs, portions of liturgy are removed. The problem is not primarily one of instrumentation but of substance.

But there is another problem, one having to do not with substance but with logistics, that is more typical of praise band services than it is of traditional services. In my experience the service that utilizes a praise band relies so heavily on the band that were the band not there, there would be very little service left. There would be a few prayers and a sermon, but without the band there to lead (perform?) lengthy musical medleys and interludes, there would not be much else. I think this is a problem. No liturgy should stand or fall on the presence (or lack thereof) of any one musician or musical ensemble, and the congregation should not come expecting to hear a certain soundtrack. And I think in most traditional settings such is the case. The focus is not on who is sitting on the organ bench, or which cantor is leading the psalm, or which choir is assisting with the liturgy and hymns, but rather on Word and Sacrament. But in a service that takes its identity from the presence of a praise band, what happens when that group is not there? Does it all fall apart? Is the thing that remains, or that which is substituted, so foreign to those assembled that they don't know what to do or how to participate? Do they feel as though they have been deprived? If so, that is a problem.

To be fair, I think it is possible for the same pitfall to happen in traditional worship. If worship is no longer worship because it is not led by a pipe organ or because a certain preacher is not in the pulpit, that is a problem, too.  

Remembering to Forget

We had an anniversary this weekend, but it wasn't the kind you might think. We didn't have a party. We didn't do anything to mark or celebrate the day. Still, we couldn't ignore it. For it was a little over a year ago, on April 20, 2012, that my husband lost his job.

It didn't happen immediately. He was given an end date, with about four months to look for something else. But for over three of those months, we didn't know if the "something else" was going to come. So it was a very long and difficult summer, one in which we had no choice but to face the possibility of unemployment and plan accordingly. I don't want to go into the details of the situation. Suffice it to say that while I have always considered Phillip's calling as a cantor (one who leads the Church's song) to be from the Lord, he has never been on our church body's official roster of called workers, having not come to the vocation of cantor in the traditional way. (That is soon to change, as he is close to completing the required courses for his colloquy.) In our former congregation his status as a contract worker meant that he was able to be dismissed without the knowledge or approval of the voters' assembly. I do want to state for the record that Phillip's firing had nothing to do with any of the reasons a congregation may, according to synod bylaws, dismiss a called worker: the teaching/promoting of false doctrine, leading of an immoral life, or willful refusal or inability to execute one's duties.

Losing a job, for anyone, is no small thing. It means not only the loss of income but also potentially the loss of professional status, on-the-job relationships, and personal purpose and motivation. But when a church worker loses a job, he loses all of that and more. He loses not just his boss, but his pastor(s); not just his office, but his communion rail; not just his friends, but his closest Christian brothers and sisters. And not only does he lose all these things, but his family does as well. In one fell swoop, it's all pulled away, at a time when those things are needed more than ever. In our case, we lost our church home of almost 13 years, the place where my two oldest children were catechized and confirmed and my youngest baptized. Not long after Phillip was fired the children and I quit attending. It was just too difficult, and we found it impossible to pretend that everything was fine. Phillip had to keep working there, however, so we spent months not being able to be in church together. We are thankful for the church and pastor who stepped in to provide spiritual care for me and the children. But for about four months we did not really have a church home. It was devastating.

It is sad beyond measure to know that what we experienced this past year is not all that unusual. I know of many church workers, either personally or through my reading, who have endured similar trials. They typically go through stages of grief much like those who have experienced the death of a loved one. Having lived for an extended period of time in a state of excessive and constant stress, they may experience a kind of PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) in which they are always on alert for the Next Bad Thing. And having undergone the compromising of some of their most valued relationships, they may have a difficult time trusting others to the extent that they can readily embrace new relationships.

We have experienced all of these things and are to some extent still doing so. It is hard to express how thankful I am for those at our new church who have welcomed and set about making us feel loved and wanted. With that kind of care I trust there will come a day when seeing April 20 on the calendar doesn't set me to remembering. Perhaps I will eventually get to the point that I can think about the good apart from the pain. I'm not there yet. But I write this today as an encouragement to those who may be in the midst of what we experienced last year, and I write from the perspective of one who has survived and is healing. Through it all, God sustained us. He provided. And he has continued to use this very bad time to bless us in ways that we are only now beginning to see. He has humbled and convicted us, reminding us of our utter helplessness and dependence on Him. He has shown us again what is truly needful and has deprived us of people and things that were coming between us and Him. He has showed us friends we didn't know we had and has sent many to speak to us Gospel comfort. And He has led us to new people, new opportunities, and new ways of serving Him--all without having to move from our home (which would have been yet another loss and difficult transition). Sometimes I can't believe how generously He has provided. Unfortunately in my sinfulness I still sometimes manage to be unappreciative.

As much as God has worked good through this situation, it is still something I wish had never happened. We are healing, but we will bear the scars forever. So I plead with you, if you are a lay person or a church worker who some day finds yourself in a position of responsibility or oversight, to do what you can to care for the bodies and souls of all involved. For "if one member suffers, all suffer together" (1 Cor. 12:26a). Sometimes there are irreconcilable differences and the best thing is to acknowledge that fact and say goodbye. At all times, though, love should reign, and often in our fallen state it does not. May God have mercy on us all and knit us together in Him even as the inept works of our graceless hands unravel before our eyes.

Not From a Lutheran Pastor . . .

. . . but still one of the best things I have read in a while about what it means to be a pastor.  (Disclaimer: I have read nothing else on this blog, don't know the writer's "angle," and am not promoting his blog as a whole. But I really liked this post, which I saw linked elsewhere and thought worth sharing here.)

An excerpt:

". . . if the function of being an elder [read: pastor] . . . is to nurture the spiritual development and growth of his brothers and sisters in the church, maybe the first thing [to do] would be to spend time praying for those people? And then maybe you could spend time with them? Perhaps you might decide to read books about how to listen more, or how to encourage people? You might also want to try doing all of these things without an ulterior motive like wanting to use your influence on people to get them to do stuff, or to give you money, or to volunteer for something. Just love them and listen to them and bless them and encourage them because you love them, and because you genuinely feel called –and gifted – by God to care for people.

"See, Pastors who are obsessed with leadership are like husbands who expect to improve their marriages by reading books about monster trucks. Not only is leadership not related to loving people, it will train you to become more self-focused and less others-focused.

"Books about leadership make you a better leader – in the worldly, CEO, 'I’m the boss' sense of the word – but if you really want to learn how to please Jesus and be the best 'shepherd' you can be, just focus on learning how to love people more, and to serve people more. It’s what Jesus did. It’s also what Jesus commanded us to do. He got down on his knees and washed the feet of this disciples, and then he said, 'Now that you know these things you will be blessed . . . if you do them' (Not if you read them, or if you know them, but only if you 'do' them)."

(by Keith Giles, January 30, 2013, subversive1.blogspot.com)

The Best We've Got

My dear friend Rebekah is worried. As she explains here, her congregation's beloved organist died several months ago and she, as pastor's wife and best available musician, is being called upon to fill the void (even in her continuing grief). What Rebekah doesn't share in her post is how hard she is working to do so. I know this because she and I have talked about it. I know how much she cares and how much she wants to serve and I have feebly tried to support her with generally useless, long-distance advice.

I commented on Rebekah's blog post this morning and then several more thoughts came that I have decided to post here. First, it is one of those cosmic ironies that often the people who for various reasons (ability, time, resources, support) are most able to improve their skills are the ones who don't bother, while those who face much greater challenges to their progress are the ones who nonetheless make the effort to improve. I am reminded of when Trevor, now 20, played basketball at the age of 8. He was the weakest player on the team, both physically and in skills and experience. And yet the coaches loved him, and so did the rest of the team. Why? Because he had what Coach Collins called "heart." He gave himself to the game unreservedly. He tried his best every single second he was on the court, and it showed. He loved that team, and they loved him. And in loving him the way they did, I believe his teammates left that season stronger players and better people. A couple of years ago I was stopped in Walmart by a woman who said, "You're Trevor's mom, aren't you?" At first I didn't recognize her. But then she introduced herself and I realized that she was the wife of Trevor's assistant coach from 10 years before. Trevor played on that team for about three months, and after the season was over both the coach and the assistant coach and their families came to our church on a Sunday afternoon to hear Trevor's piano recital. They wanted to see and affirm him in his element. And ten years later that wonderful woman recognized me. It didn't matter to her that Trevor didn't get a basket the whole season. She remembered his heart.

My second thought is that God calls whom He will. About 25 years ago my husband and I were newly married and attending a Lutheran church in Texas (the one in which I was catechized) and singing in the choir. Within a year the pastor came to Phillip and told him the choir director/organist was leaving and he wanted Phillip to take the position. At the time my husband was working as a freelance musician, playing piano bar and teaching community college. He said, "But I'm not a church musician." Pastor said, "You're the best we've got. Now get up there [in the choir loft] and get busy." My husband did not know how to play organ at the time. He was a pianist. He also had no training as a choir director. But he was the best that church had, so he learned to do both. If you can believe it, I even played organ sometimes and directed the children's choir! Now, because I have so many years of watching world class organists and choir directors at work, I am afraid to do either. You're not the only one who feels inadequate, my dearest Rebekah! But God calls whom He will, and I believe at this time He is calling you to this role. Thanks be to Him that in faith you are answering that call!

My final thought is that while we tend to think that the best way we can serve others is to be excellent and successful and in charge, sometimes God has other plans. Sometimes the best way we can serve is by being weak, imperfect, needy and human. Sometimes it is in our weakness that God provides an opportunity for others to be loving, kind, magnanimous, tolerant, and indulgent. And perhaps in our weakness those whom we are supposed to be serving and leading will find that they are able to call upon parts of themselves they didn't know were there.

I am so thankful, Rebekah, that you have a congregation full of people who love you amidst the mess. Let them keep on doing that. When you're not able to sing or play, they will carry on. They will sing to one another and to you and be blessed in doing so because that is what being a family in Christ is all about. "Through the Church the song goes on."

"Contemporary" Worship

I was recently talking to someone and the topic of "Contemporary Worship" came up. I capitalize and put the term in quotation marks because I don't think "contemporary" is a bad word. Worship that happens in the here and now is by nature contemporary. But the type of worship that has come to be known as "Contemporary" is something else, and I think the words of the person I was talking to are particularly revealing. She said that she hoped her adult son, who is visiting for Christmas, would get a chance to go to her church's Contemporary Worship service because he had never "seen" it. She didn't say he had never "participated" in it or "attended" it or "worshiped" at that service. She said he had never "seen" it. And that is a huge tell.

ABP, Day 10

Today, I--

1) Went to church & Sunday School (and both were wonderful, just wonderful). 

2) Made a meatloaf.

3) Put together Caitlin's bed with a lot of help from Caitlin and a little help from Phillip. (His little help at the end saved the day because after almost five hours Caitlin and I were done, DONE, DONE.) 

That is all. As Dr. Seuss says, "Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one."

A Regular Guy?

I have been pondering this for a while. In my life I have known quite a few men "of the cloth" (pastors, priests, preachers, etc.). With many of them I have observed a certain quality that I find it difficult to put my finger on.  I have seen it in both priests (I used to be Roman Catholic) and Lutheran pastors as well as ministers from other denominations. For lack of a better word, they are "pastoral." There is something that is just a little different about them, something that sets them apart from the rest of us. Again, it is hard to define and describe, but some of the qualities that come to mind are thoughtfulness, quietness, dignity, caring, kindness, peacefulness, gentleness, serenity, self-control and calm. In short, they are Christ-like. I am probably going to get raked over the coals for saying this, but I also appreciate pastors/priests who in their own demonstration of propriety and decorum make  "regular" people want to behave better than they otherwise might. In the same way that I as a parent try not to let my children see me sin (even though I do sin) because I don't want my sin to lead them astray, I appreciate pastors who set a good example with regard to their use of language and their choices in entertainment, dress, behavior, etc. I think men who are charged with standing in for Christ in the worship service often carry some of that aura of holiness into their everyday lives, and I think that is a good thing.

At the same time, I understand that pastors are sinners like the rest of us. Believe me, I understand. But it seems that there are some pastors who, in their effort to warn us about the worthlessness of our own good deeds, go out of their way to put the baser aspects of their humanity on display. Similarly, there are some lay people who go out of their way to encourage pastors in this anti-pietism crusade. This doesn't make sense to me. Does not Paul himself call the overseer to a higher standard of behavior than those he oversees?

The saying is trustworthy: If anyone aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a noble task. Therefore an overseer must be above reproach, the husband of one wife, sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable,able to teach, not a drunkard, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money. He must manage his own household well, with all dignity keeping his children submissive, for if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he care for God's church? He must not be a recent convert, or he may become puffed up with conceit and fall into the condemnation of the devil. Moreover, he must be well thought of by outsiders, so that he may not fall into disgrace, into a snare of the devil. (1 Timothy 3:1-7)

I take the statements that the overseer should be "respectable" and "well thought of by outsiders" to be a call for him to adhere to a high enough standard of speech and behavior that he will not confuse, offend, or lead astray one of his sheep or miss the opportunity to minister to someone in need. In my opinion, then, a pastor should not use foul language. He should not tell dirty jokes or use racial slurs. He should use good manners and exhibit modesty in his behavior and moderation in his lifestyle. He should be humble and act like a gentleman, not drawing excessive attention to himself. These are all things I try to do in my own life so as to set a good example for my children; I think my pastor, and pastors in general, should make the same effort for us their sheep. I realize that pastors fail as we all do. But we will all fail less often if we make the effort to begin with.

One final thought. I find it puzzling that sometimes the same people who promote the "Pastors are sinners like the rest of us so don't expect them to behave any better or differently" mantra are the very same people who will blindly follow a pastor simply because he is the pastor and he cannot possibly be at fault. This seems to me a disconnect. If the pastor is a sinner like the next guy, isn't it possible that he has actually somewhere along the way made a mistake or committed a sin? And if so, shouldn't he have that sin pointed out so that he can be brought to repentance and forgiveness like anyone else? And isn't doing so actually a good and positive thing for him (and his sheep) if it leads to a recognition of sin and a change in behavior going forward?

I guess what I am trying to say is that while I realize the man in the clerical suit is a sinful human being, I also look to him as a father figure and teacher, one who has been called to high and holy purpose, and as a result I hope and expect of him certain attributes and behaviors that I don't necessarily expect of the person sitting next to me in the pew. I also hope and expect that when he sins, which he surely does, he does not hide behind his office but readily acknowledges his failings and in so doing models the humility with which we should each approach the cross of our crucified Christ.

Oh, All Right

If you listened to the video of "No Tramp of Soldiers' Marching Feet" in my previous post, here's a little story to go with it. The first note of the hymn introduction--that big, low trombone that leads into a marching motif--used to be even bigger and lower. Yesterday after church I remarked to my husband that as powerful as it is, it doesn't quite sound like it did the first few years he did it. He proceeded to remind me that when we first came to our current congregation the organ had several 32-foot pipes. Such massive pipes are really too large for even our sanctuary, and so they were squeezed into a space that is too small for them. Ultimately they became a hazard--loose, rattling, and in danger of collapsing on the rest of the organ--and the decision was made to have them removed. They were replaced a few years ago by several new 16-foot pipes. Phillip told me that to get that old sound back we would have to go out and find some aging, bent 32-foot pipes and improperly mount them in our organ loft, resulting in a nice, rattling effect when they were played.

I told him I could learn to live with the 16-foot.

Perchance to Dream

Pastor Peters' post today strongly resonated with me. He writes of being told that his is a "special" congregation. Not understanding what was meant by that, he sought clarification and was provided with a list of features that he was told caused the other person to come to that conclusion. The list included things like the upholding of the liturgy, the placing of a high value on worship and music, the preaching of Law and Gospel, a functional and attractive facility, and a strong sense of mission. Pastor Peters concludes:

In the end, I find myself more and more mystified with his comment. He gets around to a lot of Lutheran (nearly all LCMS) parishes across the states and for him to suggest that our parish is "special" is less a compliment to us than, perhaps, a cause for concern about the others. For we are not extraordinary but rather ordinary. We use the hymnal, we preach the lectionary, we invest in worship as the primary activity of God's people in this place, we care about those outside our parish and our community, and we use the Confessions and Catechism as the documents that both inform and norm our parish teaching and practice. I would expect that every Lutheran parish would do so. In fact, I would hope that we are ordinary, normal, and fairly typical for Lutheran parishes out there.

I can relate to this post, not (obviously) as a pastor, but as someone who has also been told that I belong to a "special" or "exceptional" parish. It is a viewpoint I don't understand because I think if you were to ask my pastors they would say that our church is only doing what Lutherans have always done. Maybe some of the externals are different from those in some other parishes, but at the core, we are just being Lutheran. That is not to say that other solidly Lutheran churches will look exactly like ours. They won't. Each congregation has an identity that is the result of its unique gathering of souls at a particular spot on the space/time continuum. But to be Lutheran means to share certain essentials. Or it should. And being faithful to those essentials shouldn't make you "special."

More from Pastor Peters:

The more I think about it, the more this whole thing bothers me. I know that there are strange Lutheran incarnations out there but I have always believed that they were a distinct minority. My hope, prayer, and, maybe, my private illusion, is that the vast majority of Lutheran parishes were not so different from mine. I do not believe that I am more than your average Lutheran Pastor and I do not believe that we are special or unusual in all that many ways. If it is true, then it is not a compliment to me or to my parish but a cause for serious concern about the health of Lutheran congregations and their Pastors. So let me say it again. I am an ordinary Lutheran Pastor and Grace Lutheran Church is a typical Lutheran parish. Or it should be. I cannot wish for more Pastors to be like me (believe me, I know my faults and weaknesses more than most of you readers). But I do wish and pray that more Lutheran parishes would be like us in that their worship and teaching flowed seamlessly from their Confessional identity, that it was powerfully evangelical and faithfully catholic, that it was unashamedly and unabashedly Lutheran, and that it was deliberate and determined to be not only a Lutheran island where the parish is located but a Lutheran mission to shape, encourage, and live united with other Lutherans -- not as some minority splinter group but as the essential core and typical expression of our Lutheran identity within the congregation. If I am wrong, please do not tell me. Allow me this small waking dream of hope . . . .

Pastor, I don't think you're wrong. But if you are, I hope you hang on to the dream, because it's the right one, and you are not alone in praying for it to become a reality.

Saying and Meaning

One of my favorite confessional Lutheran blogs, The Brothers of John the Steadfast, has in recent weeks criticized the decision of Concordia Seminary-St. Louis to replace weekday chapel with Small Group Bible study once per quarter. The criticism is due in part to the cancellation of chapel. What is one of our seminaries doing cancelling chapel for any reason? But it also arises out of concerns about the nature of Small Group Bible study. I capitalize the letters "Small" and "Group" because they are not mere adjectives: rather, they signify a certain approach to Bible study with which most confessional Lutherans are decidedly uncomfortable. Small Group Bible study is in practice centered not as much on the Word as it is on the people in the group. One of its primary emphases is the social component: building relationships and encouraging personal sharing and accountability. Often Small Groups are instituted in an attempt to break a large organization into smaller cells so that everyone feels "connected." It's a laudable goal. But the introduction of Bible study into the Small Group structure (instead of just focusing the groups purely on fellowship) means that more often than not the Bible study is led by a lay person rather than a pastor. That is a dangerous path to trod. In addition, the Small Group approach to Bible study is to read a passage and then ask for input from the group with questions such as "What does this mean to you?" and "How can you apply this passage to your own life?" Those questions may seem innocuous enough. After all, what is the Bible if not God's Word for me? Shouldn't I be not just reading but thinking about how that Word is significant in my own life?

I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say no. And here's why. I don't have to think about how God's Word speaks to me because I already know. It speaks to me exactly what it speaks to every other sinner. It either kills me with the Law or it saves me by the Gospel. When I start thinking that it means anything more than one of those things--that maybe it speaks to me a little differently in this verse than it speaks to someone else--then I am getting into very treacherous territory. Because in my experience, the more human beings try to overthink God's Word the more likely they are to get it all mixed up. I don't know if this is his own expression or one he borrowed from someone else, but my Pastor likes to say that we Christians are highly prone to either "legalize the Gospel" or "Gospelize the Law." We like to take the Gospel and turn it into some sort of guide for living ("What Would Jesus Do?) and conversely we like to take the Law and use it to make ourselves feel better ("I'm not as bad as that guy over there"). Neither is proper. Both are pitfalls that lead us into all sorts of trouble. And both are highly likely outcomes of Small Group Bible study.

Now some might say, "But in the case you cite, the people in question are not laity but seminarians--pastors in training." Yes. And in this case Small Groups appear to have professors assigned to lead them. But I can't help wondering, what is the point? Aren't these seminarians in classrooms with those very same professors for hours each week? Aren't classes small groups? Why, then, the need to create another sort of Small Group structure?

I think the answer is two-fold. I think there is probably a sincere desire to offer an opportunity for the seminarians to support and encourage one another in the challenges of their various vocations. But I think this is the wrong way. It is a great example of the sort of legalism my pastor talks about. Something that should happen naturally--the mutual conversation and conversation of the brethren--is being prescribed. My guess is that there is already plenty of that conversation and consolation going on: between classes, in the library, in private homes, in local pubs, on the phone, or online. Why the need to systematize it? If there is concern that someone is being left out, why not just take steps to include that person and help him to feel more assimilated? The observant professor might invite the lonely seminarian over for a meal or perhaps encourage several of his students to invite him out for a beer. Why must there be an entirely new and sweeping structure put in place to achieve what a few caring souls could do on their own?

I think the answer brings us to the second likely purpose of Small Groups at the seminary. I think the second and perhaps primary goal has to do with pastoral formation. The desire is to give these pastors in training some Small Group experience in the hope that when they have their own parishes they will institute Small Groups. And therein lies the problem. If anyone can execute the Small Group model successfully, it is probably seminarians and their teachers. But when those seminarians become pastors who promote Small Groups in their parishes, I don't think there is any way they can possibly ward off the undesirable effects of the Small Group model. So why go there at all?

I think those who promote Small Groups probably have the best of intentions in most cases. They value Bible study and know that it is something that is sorely lacking in the lives of many Christians. They value people and long to bring God's comfort to hurting souls. Small Group Bible study seems a way to accomplish both. But if the outcome of Small Group Bible study is the tolerance of incorrect understandings of Scripture in the interest of not hurting feelings, or a harmful emphasis on subjective feelings rather than objective truth, or the turning of Gospel into Law through an emphasis on taking the day's learning and going out and doing something with it, or the establishment of small cells within a congregation in a way that may cause people to identify more strongly with their small groups than they do with their whole parish family, then there is a problem. And I think it is more likely than not that one or more of those problems is going to occur.

So what of the title of this post? I think when it comes to God's Word we might do well to focus less on what it means than what it says. Asking ourselves what that Word means rather than what it says seems to me an invitation to go down that familiar old path of "Did God really say . . . ?" And we all know where that leads. Don't we?

How to Win Friends and Influence People

Rebekah at the Concordian Sisters blog recently posted a letter she wrote to the editor of the LCMS (Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod) publication The Reporter. Her letter (which may or may not find its way into print) was written in response to a recent article in The Reporter about the Women's Leadership Institute, an LCMS organization dedicated to providing women "opportunities to grow in the unique gifts of leadership and character that God gives to women for service to Christ, the Church, and the world." I think Rebekah rightly questions the goals of the WLI, and I encourage you to read her letter as well as the article that prompted it. While initially one might ask what could possibly be wrong with encouraging women to serve others, that misses the point, because the WLI seems not so much focused on serving as on leading.

Well, then, you might ask, what's so bad about that? What's wrong with women leading?

Again, on the face of it, nothing. In fact, I spend much of my day directing and leading people. I tell them when to wake up and when to go to bed, when to eat and when to wash dishes, what pages to read in their history book and when their essay is due. I decide what snacks they will find in the pantry and what they will have for supper. I determine what picture goes on which wall and who gets new shoes this month. But I don't think the WLI cares too much about that sort of leadership. I think instead that what they are most interested in is women leading large groups of people visibly and publicly. And the great risk is that in doing so they dismiss and devalue the lion's share of women's work, because most of it is hidden and humble, known by but incredibly important to only a cherished few.

One quotation from the article effectively summarizes most of what concerns me about the concept of a women's leadership organization in the church:

"[A participant in the WLI conference] said it was 'refreshing,' as a young person, 'to see that there's actually a need and a want for us in the church.' She said it was 'awesome to see other sisters in Christ who are so 'on fire' for the Lord,' and that her experience at the conference 'makes me want to go out and serve more, and lead more, and make more of a difference.'"

There is something seriously perplexing about a young churchgoing woman who has to attend a "leadership" conference to see that her church needs her. In my experience, most churches are hungry for volunteers. The need is great and the workers are few. Too often, it is the same few people doing most of a congregation's work. How, then, could someone find it surprising or "refreshing" to discover that she is needed? My guess is that the ways she wants to be needed may be different from the ways that she actually is. But true service is not a matter of cherry-picking the jobs that appeal to you or the ones that will build your self-esteem or bring you praise. True service is being willing to do that which is inconvenient and unappealing and tedious and dirty (kind of like being a mother, no?).

I'm not even going to touch the phrase about being "on fire for the Lord"--that is a whole other post--but I can't ignore the final reference to making "more of a difference." More of a difference than what? Implicit in that statement is the belief that the kind of service that requires "leadership" as it is defined by organizations like WLI is inherently more valuable than the sort of leadership I provide on a daily basis for the poor miserable sinners who share my roof.

Please understand: I have no problem with women leading in ways that are in accord with God's word. My husband's assistant cantor is a woman, and she contributes much to enabling the Lord's song in our congregation. But she is also a wife and mother, and I think she would agree that the service and leadership she provides at home by caring for her husband and baby girl are far, far more important than any of her singing or organ playing or choir directing. I have known many other women in the church who have served as teachers, school principals, board members, deaconesses, musicians, composers, editors, event coordinators, counselors, secretaries, and more. But you know what? None of them needed a leadership conference to tell her that there was a need for her gifts nor to convince her to share those gifts in service to God's people.

When you get right down to it, the establishment of a women's leadership organization within the church is a buying into the mindset that women have heretofore been kept down and that they need to be liberated from the patriarchy in order to truly fulfill their potential. It is at its core unbiblical. It is also--and I think this is what bothers me most of all--rooted in the Law. Because far from feeling liberated, when I contemplate participating in such an organization or attending one of its events I instead feel burdened. You mean to say that what I am doing right now is not enough? You want me to do MORE? And if I don't it means I'm not on "fire" for the Lord?

Note to WLI: I'm sure you mean well, but I think I'll pass. And now, if you'll excuse me, there's a certain 6-year-old little boy who needs and wants me to make a difference in his life by directing him to his bed and leading him in a story and a prayer.

Second Sunday in Advent

"Prepare the Way of the Lord" (from Taizé) accompanied by guitar, synthesizer (my son), accordion (my husband), & hammered dulcimer. This was sung as the Verse at our Saturday evening service tonight. Poor sound quality (I really need a better recording mechanism than my cell phone), but maybe sufficient to give my readers who are interested a sampling of what a "contemporary" liturgical ensemble at Bethany might sound like. The hammered dulcimer player (largely inaudible on the video) is on the left; she was a surprise guest, not a member of our congregation but a friend of the guitarist who sat in just for tonight. The guitar at first and later the accordion sound a lot louder in the video than they did in the service, and because I was sitting right by the musicians you mostly hear them and not the congregation (which was a Saturday night crowd so was small anyway). The accordion drops out on the final repetition.



Here's another--several stanzas of "On Jordan's Bank the Baptist's Cry" accompanied by piano, synthesizer and guitar. The sound quality is a little better here. The little voice you hear humming along is Evan. :-)



My husband says that next time I want to do a recording in church I should go to the other side of the sanctuary to get a more balanced, representative mix of the instruments and congregation. He's so smart. I guess that's why he's the Cantor and I'm not.

Forrest Gump

Sometimes I teasingly call my husband Forrest Gump because he always seems to be showing up wherever news is happening. Here he goes again, getting interviewed by religion writer Terry Mattingly for the Scripps-Howard News Service:

Lutherans and the Worship Wars