Text: Matthew 11:2-11
Whenever expectations meet reality, questions are sure to follow.
Years ago my wife told my son that they were going to do something very special to get ready for Christmas. She pumped up his excitement. She told him they were going to have fun. As a consequence, he couldn't wait until the day came -- to make a gingerbread house. I walked in just as the project was being completed. He was sitting there with his head in his heads, bored to tears and asking his mother if they were having fun yet.
Our expectations build a road leading us somewhere until we come to that stop along the way called reality. It happens even to the best of us!
Stay away from the foreign mission field if you're not ready to face the unexpected. My recent trip to Peru -- arranged to explore mission work being done by fellow Presbyterians there -- packed the regular surprises: children whose effervescence belies their poverty, spotless homes set in the midst of barrios, mission programs being led by visionary and strategic-thinking Peruvian leaders. Those and many other joyous discoveries humbled this American Presbyterian, exposing his shallow sophistication and hollow materialism.
Know some folks who like to travel? How about traveling as a group? How about traveling to the land of Israel-Palestine and Jordan? How about tracing the steps of Paul? How about visiting those places that still reverberate the voices of Athanasius and Patrick, Luther and Calvin, Zwingli and Knox?
What if you visit all those places and still hunger for more?
For Harry Horne the satisfaction of being a Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) co-mission worker in Peru is watching those he ministers to achieve a deeper understanding of the Word of God -- in Hebrew and Greek. The Colorado-born former pastor teaches Hebrew and Greek language courses at a branch of the Latin American Biblical University located in Lima.
"Nobody becomes an expert on Greek or Hebrew in a course or two, but they get enough to start using it," said Horne, who also teaches other Bible courses at the school. "It's fun watching people reach a level where they feel confident enough to use those tools. When it becomes useful it's really good to see when folks find new things in text because they have those tools."
Hunter Farrell, former missionary to Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo) and Peru began service as director of global missions for the General Assembly Council this past summer. Outlook editor, Jack Haberer, recently discussed with him his take on missions.
JH: You spent the first third of your career serving in African missions, both on site in the Congo and here in the General Assembly as an area coordinator. Peru must have been quite a change for you. Tell me that transition.
HF: I had lived as a foreign exchange student in high school in Chile and spent a year of my time at the University of Texas at Austin abroad at the Catholic University in Peru. I spoke Spanish and had a love for Latin-American culture, so I was looking to get back there when I applied to what was then the Division of International Mission in Atlanta. John Pritchard got hold of my application and said, "Come to Zaire." ... I went at age 24, did a year as a volunteer in mission in Zaire, and fell in love with Zaire, the people, and with the way Presbyterians do mission.
Paul Revere might have gotten away with one ride through "every Middlesex village and farm." But in modern church life, we aren't likely to have such impact.
Two basic rules of communications are:
1. People aren't likely to hear something the first time you tell them. To hear your message, people need to hear it multiple times -- some say as many as seven times.
2. People don't like surprises. If you want their acceptance, especially of a change, you need to "telegraph your moves."
Here's what I mean.
A single announcement, even of an important event, is unlikely to be heard. People tend to be overloaded with information. They are distracted. Rather than spend time and money on designing the perfect one-time announcement, plan a series of announcements that, eventually, will catch your audience's attention.
A sonnet by Stephen Rehrig.
Last week in Indianapolis, I spoke at Christian Theological Seminary -- "Church Outside the Box," was the title they chose -- and engaged in dialog with three panelists.
We had a grand time up front. I spoke with passion and the panelists responded in spirited debate. But then the moderator invited the audience to ask their questions. Surprise! Their questions went directions we hadn't anticipated.
Go deeper, said one person. We're already beyond denominational woes. What lies ahead?
How do we address a dangerous world situation? asked another.
What specifically should we be doing? Asked one of several people who arrived ready to move on and now wanted guidance.
My husband and I recently celebrated our 25th anniversary. At a small and packed popular restaurant in New York City, they brought out our dessert with Proseco on the house and a chocolate inscription around the plate that gave away our celebration to all the tables around us, opening the door of conversation. Because the couple right next to us was from Oklahoma, my husband felt compelled to tell them that I was from Iran, figuring they probably didn't run into many Iranians in their circle. He apologized later in the cab but I knew instantly why he did this. I have spent my 29 years in America playing the role of ambassador from Iran. And it has been a rocky three decades beginning with the Iranian revolution and hostage crisis in my college freshman year in D.C. to the present day of Iran as the face of evil.
The couple from Oklahoma nodded their heads approvingly at my story and the man declared very proudly that I am "living the American Dream." This did not sit well with me. Like most Iranians who ended up as what I like to call "accidental immigrants," I came to America from a life of privilege. I told our new friends that I grew up in boarding school in England. And I told them something that everyone is always shocked to hear: My parents still live in Iran. Really? How is it for them? Why don't they leave?
Are you in the holiday spirit yet? Have you enjoyed/ will you enjoy gatherings of family and friends?
Intent as we Christians are at keeping Christ at the center of the holidays, we also pour a lot of effort into making it a season for reunions with our loved ones. Whether that entails toting a warm pumpkin pie to the neighbors' or flying home from the eastern hemisphere, we love to gather together to enjoy the Lord's blessing.
As adopted daughters and sons of God, we count one another as our extended Christian family. For some that spreads icing on an already tasty cake. For others, it provides the only family they know. Hence, part of our mission as believers is to build up and promote authentic koinonia throughout the body of Christ in both its immediate expression, the local church community, and its catholic expression, the universal Church.
The board of directors at the Presbyterian Outlook Foundation, Inc., at its September 2006 meeting, stumbled upon a big "aha" regarding our role in the church family. Like so many fellowships and organizations, we were discussing our mission and vision. In the midst of stating the obvious -- reporting accurate news of the church, presenting insightful commentary on the news, and providing helpful resources for ministry -- board chair, Stacy Johnson, said, "I don't think that's the essence of the Outlook's mission."
He caught our attention.
Editor's Note: This article is based on material in Shane Claiborne's book, The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical and information on the Web site of "The Simple Way," (www.thesimpleway.org ).
"Most good things have been said far too many times and just need to be lived." So says Shane Claiborne at the beginning of The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical, his book on his ongoing quest to discover what that "living" might actually look like. Claiborne and six others are the founders of The Simple Way, a community in Kensington, one of Philadelphia's most challenging neighborhoods.
Claiborne is clear to note that The Simple Way is not a "church plant" or an attempt at creating a model of "radical Christianity" that is theirs alone. "We have never considered ourselves a church plant," says Claiborne, adding, "I'm not sure we need more churches" (pp. 144-45). It does, however, represent a way of being in the world, a way that is intentionally and self-consciously Christian.
Those in more established church traditions might want to pay attention.
I'm a fan of Sheldon Sorge, and I affirm his article on ways that congregations can support their pastors in keeping their callings vital. However, I've been forced to conclude, after too many years of study, that there is little evidence from New Testament and pre-Constantinian historical sources to justify a Gentile Sabbath ethic. Sheldon says of himself (and all us pastors) and of members, "I needed not just an equivalent of their Saturday, a day to mow the yard, change the oil, fix the bicycle, etc. -- but also of their Sunday."
Many American Presbyterians remember blue laws and other external constraints on Sunday activity. Those constraints are gone, and "their Sunday" enjoys no practical consensus. Are Sundays for naps? NFL football? Movies and museums? Golf? Shopping? Youth sports? The whole day in acts of corporate and/or personal worship? Lacking a consensus, many pastors and authors are treating Sabbath as a personal spiritual practice, loosely defining it as "rest." Such an approach requires a good bit of work to justify itself as sufficiently grounded in Scripture, confessions, and theological reflection.
Paying attention to Sheldon's situation (and every minister's) can help.
Standing on the corner of Santa Ana Blvd. and Main Street, in downtown Santa Ana, Calif., you experience the sights, sounds, and faces of a microcosm of the American urban story.
On one side of Main Street sits First Church of Santa Ana, a downtown church celebrating this year its 125th anniversary. Considering it is in California, it is actually quite old. Once overflowing with members, more recently it is struggling to adapt to the city's changing demographics. Across Main Street, not a half block away, is the building that formerly housed Trinity United Church, the first United Presbyterian Church west of the Mississippi when it was founded in 1876.
In 1958, Trinity Church, like many downtown Presbyterian churches, left the city to move out of downtown, now in the midst of a sprawling suburbia. First Church remained.
Now, some 50 years later, the two churches are coming together in a partnership that may give hope to other struggling urban churches, and inspiration to their often resource-rich suburban counterparts.
Most of our church members know that the stated clerk is not just a guy with an eyeshade reviewing reports, though that part of the job was and is important. What makes the position so important is its leadership role, and that relates to the way the Clerk embodies and implements the Church's public witness. So we must look first at a definition of public witness, and then look at what current and past stated clerks have been doing.
By definition, public witness is a larger category than social witness and includes at least four main categories:
1. Influencing public opinion by presenting persuasive, credible, ethically-grounded stances;
2. Appealing to the faith and values of individuals, particularly in their church life;
3. Effecting specific policies, involving informed constituencies;
4. Exemplifying viable alternative visions grounded in the Gospel that contrast with the models of secular society, business, and government.
The Office of the General Assembly, focused in the elective office of the stated clerk, represents the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) internally and externally through a range of official and personal roles. Thus it relates to all four of the categories above. By virtue of its "church-wide," or General Assembly-based, election, the Clerk may be legitimately considered the highest elected continuing representative of the Church, carrying administrative duties well beyond those of Moderator, whose role is almost entirely symbolic.
"The clock is running out very, very quickly. I am more pessimistic on the question of time running out than I've ever been."
-- U.S. Senator Patrick Leahy (D.-Vt,), while on a visit to Jerusalem with Rep. Peter Welch (D.-Vt.)
I agree with the assessment of our Congressional leaders and applaud them for going to Jordan, Israel, and the West Bank. Reflecting on my three-week visit to the West Bank in May, I too discerned a sense of despairing hopelessness and apathy. Regretfully the delegation could not meet with Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas in person. But we saw the visible devastation caused by the Wall as it snakes its way mostly on Palestinian lands, cutting Palestinians off from Palestinians, creating apartheid-like Bantustans. As Shulamit Aloni, former member of Israel's Knesset, said recently, "Forty years of occupation has turned every Palestinian village into a detention camp. We are exercising apartheid."
Forty years of Israeli occupation of Palestinian territories was recently marked. In 36 of those years I have witnessed what occupation is, having conducted annual alternative pilgrimage tours, done fellowship study, and been involved in humanitarian projects in hospitals, clinics, and schools. I have seen the strangulation of Palestinian cultural, political, economic, religious and social life, and educational opportunity. Each year it gets worse. Remember, Palestinians are the occupied, not the occupiers; yet they are being punished. Their land is being confiscated for Israeli settlements and an intricate system of roads for settlers only (all contrary to Geneva Conventions).
Of all institutions, the church has both the opening and the obligation to make a personal response to people's needs. People endure anonymous and mechanical responses from other institutions. They expect more from a faith community.
With some exceptions, most church members will grant their church access to their lives. They will respond to personal visits, telephone calls, e-mail, and letters. In a need situation, they probably won't respond to a broadside invitation, such as, "If anyone needs a personal visit, call the church office."
Clergy need to develop the habit of making pastoral calls other than hospital emergencies.
The recent resignation of the director of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)'s Washington Office begs us to consider how that office should operate.
Some say it ought to close. Wrong answer. Many feel disgruntled over the kinds of efforts exerted there. However, to pull out of the nation's capital would send a signal about church-state relations that does not match our longstanding convictions. God calls us to provide a conscience to the nation, to utter the oft-unpopular prophetic word, to "speak truth to power." God calls us to lead leaders.
Some say we ought to proceed ahead as we have before. Wrong answer, too. Many applaud the office's efforts to broadcast faithful positions to the nation. But, we must ask some hard questions.
Have we been effective at promoting real change? Or, has predictability and a narrow focus diminished our clout?
Have we adapted our modi operandi to the rapidly-changing context -- where the political climate changes like the barometric pressure?
Are we utilizing 21st century communications media or are we stuck in the 1960s?
At least a few things do need to change in order to help our nation promote justice, morality, and mercy in the 21st century.
The world has changed. The old rules are out.
It was bad enough when the World Wide Web made it possible for the voices of peoples long silenced to broadcast their ideas -- crazy and eccentric as many of them are -- without having to raise thousands of dollars to self-publish or to convince an editor-publisher to invest the capital to do so. Standards of grammar and communication ethics went out the window.
Now it's worse. Web 2.0, the second generation of Web development, has turned every computer into a publishing house, an editorial department, a photography studio, and a movement rabble-rouser.
The world really is flat, as Thomas Friedman proclaimed in his book by that title.
For those of us who have held the privileged role of "editor" (the person who decides what news is "fit to print"), that privilege has disappeared.
For those of us who have held the privileged role of "preacher," (the person who tells the people what God's Word says and means), that privilege has disappeared, too.
So what happens when John Stuart posts his daily devotions on his blog, "Heaven's Highway"?
People write to him from India, Saudi Arabia, New Zealand and South Africa.
Folks from his congregation say things like, "That's not what I believe," or "I never thought about that," and conversations begin.
And, as an added bonus, a teacher from a local high school is having students download his sermon podcasts. The students are preparing for an upcoming production of the musical "Brigadoon," and their teacher wants them to get it right.
"They're copying my accent," Stuart, pastor of Erin Church in Knoxville and a native of Scotland, said with pleasure.
There is no blueprint to Web 2.0, but the simple truth is this. Presbyterians -- like lots of other folks -- are using Web-based technology more and more. They find it freeing, a doorway to discipleship, a way to creatively meld words and music and images and ideas.
In the beginning, there was Gutenberg. Those privileged few who owned the printing presses printed the text, while everyone else merely read it. To be sure, copies of a text might be circulated among friends, discussed around the dinner table, or used to prop up a short table leg, but the text itself remained static. Any underlined passages or notes in the margin remained isolated from the general public, existing solely in that copy of the text.
The beginning of the Internet (what we'll call "Web 1.0") was much the same. A limited few who had the technical or financial resources to do so created Web sites. The World Wide Web quickly developed into a great source of information, but not really a means of self-expression or conversation for the masses.
For those who can deny the malls,
and flying footballs on the screen,
there lies, tucked in between the feasting
and those first December days,
a blessed intermission, several hours,
at least, when nothing must be done,
My name is Bruce and I am a blogger!
Group response: "Hi, Bruce!"
There I said it, I am an unapologetic blogger. And not just any blogger, but I am a blogger that also happens to be a quickly aging Presbyterian pastor who is probably not as cool or hip as I once thought I was ;-) Please don't hold any of this against me.
As one of those folks whose age allows me to bridge the gap between knowing a time without the Internet -- gasp! - and experiencing online social networking as a natural part of my life, I feel like I not only have lived the great technological transition of the world, but have been transformed in the midst of it all. THANK YOU, JESUS!
Staying on top of the technological curve in ministry can eventually drive one crazy, but it is also one of the most effective tools in communicating with and connecting those in your congregation. With this in mind, one of the very first tasks that I set about in the summer of 2002 when I became the college director at Bel Air Church in Los Angeles, Calif., was to hire a professional Web designer to create a very attractive and interactive Web site. I was expecting this new Web site to bridge the gap for us in communication and connection within our community. We created pages for them to upload their artwork and photography, and we created a forums section where various issues could be raised and discussed for anyone who desired to enter the conversation. Since both my students and I were controlling this content, users weren't returning to the same static site that they had grown used to in the past. But having an attractive and interactive Web site in hopes to communicate and connect people was just not enough, and it is certainly not enough today.
I was driving home on Interstate 84 just outside of Wendell, Idaho, where I was serving as a director of youth ministries. I was talking with a friend on my cell phone and he told me I needed to get a blog. "A what?" I asked. "A blog -- you know, a Weblog?" Although I was very computer-savvy at the time, I hadn't gotten involved in blogging. My friend eventually convinced me that I needed to get one, and so I went home and started my first blog and called it Pomomusings ("Pomo," at the time, was the trendy version of "postmodern," so it was going to be my musings about issues of church, culture, and postmodernism).
A blog, or Weblog, is basically a Web site that has constantly changing content. The Oxford American Dictionary defines a blog as "a Web site on which an individual or group of users produce on ongoing narrative." Instead of the more traditional, static Web sites we are used to (where the content remains the same), people constantly add new posts to their blogs and often update them daily -- producing an ongoing story or narrative of their lives or thoughts. On most blogs, not only can you go and read the posts, but you can also leave comments and get involved in conversations on the blog.
I used to think blogging was stupid. Who would want to read some random person's thoughts? Why would I want to read what is essentially an online journal?
This was my opinion about blogging until I created a blog for our church's "Theology on Tap" group and wrote my first post. Last October, I returned home to see the sun setting on the row houses behind our own. The trees and the rooftops looked as if they were on fire. I was so struck by the beauty that I grabbed my camera and found myself writing about the experience on the newly created blog. I wrote about a moment that stopped me short and pulled me out of my busy life. I wrote what I was thinking and feeling and pushed "publish." From that moment on, I was hooked on this crazy thing called blogging. I soon created a personal blog and celebrated my first blogiversary on October 26.
What brought about this change of heart? For me, blogging is about two things. It is about community and the discipline of taking notice.
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