I was in the elevator at the hospital in Rockford, Ill., taking the commuter from fourth floor to first floor. I had completed my visit, prayed with my patient, and was now on my way to the next visit at the next hospital.
In the elevator was one other person, a woman with a weary and weathered face that indicated that much life had been packed into her forty-something years. I gazed mostly at the floor as you do when it's just two of you in the elevator. But I also noticed that she seemed agitated, rocking back and forth on her feet, glancing this way and that, mumbling to herself.
My pastor's radar picked up the signals: I can't stand it, can't stand it. I'm going to explode. I glanced up to see tears, not tears of sadness but of joy. "It's too much, too wonderful. It's incredible!" By now she was mumbling not only to herself, but to me.
Every once in a while competitors turn into allies. This seems to be one of those times.
Voices all around the church are calling for a change of subject. Most of them are proposing the same subject. Indeed, many heretofore opponents now believe that the answer to our denomination's woes is for us to become a "missional church."
Attendance (125) at the Presbyterian Coalition's Gathering X was dwarfed by that of the second conference of the Presbyterian Global Fellowship (800) -- and both groups seemed pleased about that (see pp. 8, 9). Could it be that the call to be missional is re-energizing conservative-evangelical-confessionalist Presbyterians?
The upcoming conference of the Witherspoon Society (Sept. 17-19) is dubbed as "A Witherspoon conference on global mission and justice." Could it be that the call to be missional is re-focusing progressive-liberal-activist Presbyterians?
Accurate measurements are critical to a congregation's wellbeing.
Numbers represent people. A change in membership count means the congregation is serving more or fewer people. A change in Sunday attendance means greater or lesser impact on people's lives. A change in non-Sunday participation means something is at home, or at work, or in how church matters to people.
In trying to understand such numbers, you are taking a big step in understanding your people and in understanding your congregation's effectiveness.
Editor's Note: A shortened version of this article appears in the September 3, 2007, print version of The Presbyterian Outlook.
Items in The Presbyterian Outlook over the past several months continue to suggest the need for a review of where we appear to be heading after the events of 2006 and some thoughts that might help to determine whether the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) is headed in the right direction. The latest item was Leslie Scanlon's report on the activities of the Form of Government (FOG) Task Force in the June 25/July 2 issue. Two other items were in the May 14 issue. The first (p.13) was a plaintive cry by Ross B. Jackson to encourage everyday Presbyterians to make what he called some "root" changes (Making Disciples - What Presbyterians NEED to Read.) The second (p.32) was a letter from Dawson Watkins suggesting that positions taken by Louisville be better supported with facts. These gentlemen are obviously as concerned as I am about the dearth of biblical evidence offered for positions taken by both officials and laymen and women of the PC(USA).
When's the last time you attended a presbytery meeting? I've attended about 30 in the past two years -- several for speaking engagements, several times to promote the Outlook. In the majority of cases, I've come away happily surprised.
The "feel" of such presbytery meetings has been more positive than I expected. Many of them exuded a spirit of collegiality and mutual support. For some, it has always been this way, but for others this is a new thing, a very new thing. What's going on?
Many a presbytery has transformed itself from a command-and-control regulatory body into a partnership-and-care missional body.
One mode of change has come as the role and, in some cases, the job title of the lead staff person was altered. After World War II, when churches were booming with growth, most presbyteries created the position of "Executive Presbyter," following the management model then used in corporations that also were booming. Recent decades have challenged the top-down model of corporate leadership, and presbyteries have been paying attention. The amended title, "General Presbyter", is now used in many presbyteries. Others have adopted more specific titles: "General missioner" (Tres Rios), "Teaching presbyter" (Lehigh), etc.
With or without the title change, many of these staff members are treating their role primarily as a calling to support ministers, elders, and churches entrusted to their care.
Every denomination handles the content of spiritual formation differently. No less diverse are practices within denominations. We can find many ways to pray, many ways to worship, many ways to read Scripture and to make our peace with God.
Unfortunately, various schools of thought have tended to proclaim their ways the best, indeed the only, ways to approach God. From that assertion have flowed endless bloodshed and, even now, extreme intolerance.
If it's not one pope, it's another.
Pope John XXIII's ecumenical initiatives shook my young faith to the core. Pope Benedict XVI's faith initiatives are shaking my adult ecumenism to the core.
Sister Catherina -- my beloved first grade teacher who, if she had told me my blue eyes were actually green, I would have believed her -- had warned us about Protestants. She said they don't go to the true church, and, she added with tears, they're all going to hell.
One year after hearing her say that, Pope John XXIII -- whose picture had been on the front wall, above the chalkboard, near the crucifix in Sister Catherina's classroom -- launched the Second Vatican Council. Three years into their work, the Council announced that those "infidel" Protestants now ought to be considered "separated brethren."
"The Church reformed, ever to be reformed"1 has been a motto of "Reformed" churches since the 16th century. It recognizes that the church in every age must bow afresh to Jesus Christ as Lord of the Church. In our day, I believe that the Spirit of God is calling us to reform once again and it will happen only as we give fresh attention to the Word of God.
God's Story
So we begin with God's story. What is God doing in the world? What is God's purpose for the church?
From the time of the Fall, it was clear that God was on a mission. God was passionately involved. God pursued humanity. God never gave up.
Along the way God invited his people to join that mission. Israel was blessed to be a blessing -- called to be a light to the Gentiles and a witness to the nations. But mostly they hoarded their blessing and walled themselves off.
In the fullness of time, God slipped into history. Jesus was sent to fulfill God's mission. He brought reconciliation to the alienated, compassion to the deprived, and justice to the oppressed. Jesus died to free people from the shame, the guilt, and the eternal consequences of their sin. And Jesus was raised from the dead to guarantee hope and to shape a new community of followers in the world.
Congress did not produce new immigration legislation. What are we Christians to do now?
Now that the political points no longer need to be made, we do well to reconsider the facts on the ground. Toward that end, Barbie and I visited the Mexican border ourselves. We accepted the invitation of former GA moderators, John Fife and Rick Ufford-Chase, to explore the Tucson sector, a 60-mile, south-to-north area above a 240 miles-long stretch of the border.
Encountering migrants and the Christian volunteers seeking to serve them, we heard about the cycles of migration that have crossed the border for hundreds of years. Seasons of planting and harvest, periods of major construction and other rhythms of labor have driven breadwinners to seek employment wherever available, and family ties have drawn them back home as soon and as often as possible.
What does it mean to be a Presbyterian today? According to statistical probabilities, a person labeled Presbyterian is likely to be white and rich. Only the Episcopalians and Unitarians rival our spending power.
(NETTLETON 8.7.8.7 D "Come, Thou
Fount of Every Blessing," PH# 356)
Giving God, we pause and wonder:
What would happen if we tithed --
If we gave our gifts, Creator,
Hearts and hands all opened wide?
We might learn, by gladly sharing,
Not to trust in things we own
But to risk-- it's part of caring--
And to trust in you alone.
Churches worry constantly about leadership.
So much energy has been devoted to church leadership, in fact, that two unfortunate messages have been communicated.
One misguided message is that clergy need to be "fixed." Better attitudes, better diets, better health, better teamwork skills, better preaching -- on and on it goes, often under the guise of "clergy wellness," but with the underlying theme that if the church just had better clergy, all would be well.
This article originally appeared in the Tucson Citizen and was used by permission.
"Drug-smugglers have a patron saint? That's unbelievable!" my wife exclaimed.
I had just returned from a day in the desert searching for migrants in distress.
My colleagues in No More Deaths had come across three migrants on the trail and had shared food and water.
But while hiking one canyon, we discovered a shrine hidden in a deep alcove in the canyon wall. Inside the dark alcove was a 3-foot-wide poster of Jesús Malverde. Below the poster were candles and prayer cards bearing his image. We had stumbled into a shrine of the narco-saint of the borderlands.
For years, a church's declining membership concerned its leaders. Their solution -- a youth ministry. After several years, the church pastor acknowledged that the effort invested to attract young families was not working. The pastor's conclusion was simple and refreshing: "I have been telling the session that perhaps it's time to be who we are, a church for older adults."
The Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) has been facing similar changes and its response has paralleled that of many of its local churches. However, the General Assembly's Older Adult Ministries Office indicates the changes facing our denomination are a reflection of the nation as a whole.
The lengthening of the average human lifespan is one of the remarkable achievements of the 20th century. In 1900, life expectancy was only 47, but over those 100 years, it rose to 75 for men and 78 for women. The percentage of older persons in our global society is growing and expected to nearly double between 1990 and 2030.This trend is no less apparent here in the United States and is especially noticeable within our own congregations of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), where the average age of worshipers is 58 -- and rising. For every worshiper under the age of 25, there are more than six worshipers over the age of 65, which account for 35% of all Presbyterians.
-- Older Adult Ministries Office
For some persons, retiring from public work fulfills a nearly life-long dream. Retirement brings opportunities, perhaps long-delayed, for travel, relaxing, spending more quality time with friends and family, increasing one's involvement in church and community life, and indulging established interests while cultivating new ones. I recall a former parishioner saying to me, "I retired early, ten years ago, and haven't looked back once!" For persons so inclined, retirement often brings a new lease on life.
For others, retirement may prompt a different experience. Even if it brings a measure of excitement over opportunities for new experiences and relief from the daily grind of working life, retiring may also issue a deep sense of loss. Perhaps this feeling of loss involves the changes in one's former routines. The loss may derive from less contact with valued colleagues and work-related acquaintances. Maybe one's sense of loss revolves around modifications in lifestyle that are required for most people with a retirement income. Frequently, a sense of loss centers on uncertainty about one's identity, sense of purpose, and feelings of accomplishment that have long been linked with one's labors.
David McFarlane remembers the first Board of Pensions retirement seminar he attended. He was chairing the Committee on Ministry for Western New York Presbytery, and one of his responsibilities was to encourage pastors nearing retirement age to attend the seminars.
So it was suggested that he go himself -- the argument being something like, "You'll never convince anybody to go unless you go yourself."
McFarlane, then in his 40s, did go. He and his wife, Ann, walked into the room, sat down next to an older couple and struck up a conversation. The older man said he was intending to retire in about three weeks. He had not said a word to his session. The couple was living in a manse, owned no home and had no idea where they would live. They had made no plans.
"We were just stunned," McFarlane said. "My glory, three weeks away ... I said, 'No matter what else we do, we won't do that.' "
Now, after many years and after retiring themselves, the McFarlanes are among a number of "consultant couples" who speak at retirement seminars sponsored by the Board of Pensions. They don't offer advice; in other words, they don't tell people what to do. But they do walk people through questions they're likely to encounter as they consider retirement -- questions such as where to live and how to use their time when they step aside from the pulpit. They try to help them envision what, for them, retirement might be like.
Editor's Note: When O. Benjamin Sparks (no stranger to Outlook readers) retired as pastor of Second Church in Richmond, Va., last May, he and his wife, Annette, received a number of tributes and honors for their years of service. For almost two years, Ben served concurrently as Second Pres pastor and interim editor of the Outlook. At the church's celebration for the Sparkses, T. Hartley Hall IV of Asheville, N.C., offered this observation.
The Presbyterian Book of Order has always, and quite properly so, suggested that in the process of being installed into a new work, the minister should endure a brief "charge" appropriate to the nature of the new tasks that he/she is assuming. And for this to be properly done, the presbytery attempts to enlist the services of a colleague who is at least reasonably competent, and intelligent, and insightful, dedicated, articulate, even winsome and inspiring -- along with all sorts of other admirable ministerial traits. This we all know.
Today, however, marks the inauguration of a seismic liturgical shift in the long history of American Presbyterianism in that the Unseen Powers of Second Presbyterian Church in Richmond, Va., have determined that at the culmination of his ministry here, The Reverend Doctor O. Benjamin Sparks, having once received a charge, should now get a "discharge" from these labors; that Ben should hear a reasonably brief personal and/or theological word that could perhaps mollify his abandonment of a lifetime of familiar sabbatic labors, and then (possibly) encourage him as he sails off into uncharted waters, towards the terra incognita of ecclesial retirement.
Betty Coble remembers exactly when she preached for the first time at Arcadia Church, where she has been a member for more than 50 years.
It was Easter Sunday, 1978. She was teaching Sunday school to the adults, when someone suggested, "Why don't you come out and preach?"
The church had no pastor. No one was scheduled to preach.
"This was a little country church, and nobody wanted to come," she said. That day, "the church was full of people" -- a crowd of about 30, compared to the usual 17 or 20.
She prayed, "Lord, you've got to give me something." She went out and preached the Sunday school lesson she'd prepared, "and it went really well. You never know."
Today Coble, at 85, is Arcadia's commissioned lay pastor.
How many hundreds of guest talks I have given in the past sixty years, I do not know. I do know that a great variety of folk have introduced me to some audience. I may be justified, therefore, in putting down a few educated suggestions about the best ways to open the door between a speaker and the spoken-to.
1. Open the door; don't stand in it for long. It's a temptation, for some introducers to display their talent for mastery of the speaker's curriculum vitae. I was once introduced to a high school audience with a recitation of all five pages of a c.v. I had sent ahead. It took me ten minutes, I am sure, to win back the attention of those students after the boredom of that introduction. I later composed a one-paragraph summary of my biography for future use to my introducers.
"I'd rather burn out than rust out."
"I've just accepted another interim pastorate. I'm flunking retirement."
"There's no such thing as retiring from the service of the Lord."
"Where do you find retirement in the Bible?"
Church leaders -- pastors, elders, educators, and others -- blurt such lines often. Some of their comments reflect a genuine love of ministry and the physical constitution to sustain it. Other times their words reveal a restless soul adrift on what, from their vantage point, looks like dead calm waters. The final questioning quote bespeaks the need to use a Bible concordance.
Recently I read again a folk story about a couple whose home was set amidst unbelievably beautiful surroundings. Four sparkling streams irrigated the land and danced across the rocks and flowed over the sand. Orchards and vineyards spangled the terraces. A menagerie roamed virgin forests and meadows. Birds fluttered from tree to tree.
The water was not polluted by the slime from dirty factories and the refuse of urban sprawl. The air was not polluted with carbon monoxide exhaled from thousands of automobile exhausts. The ground was not cluttered with beer cans, pop bottles, Styrofoam containers, and thousands of other items of trash and junk.
Theirs was a garden paradise. But the story does not end with, "They lived happily ever after."
I asked 5,000 readers what questions they would ask of God. Their responses undid me.
Not a single question about church doctrine or the inerrancy of Scripture. Only one question in 1,600 referred to gay bishops. Less than 1% mentioned church controversies of any kind.
Instead, people asked basic, down-to-earth questions, such as "Who are you, God?" "Where do you live?" "Will I ever get married?" "Why did my wife die so young?" "Will we ever have peace in this world?" "Where is heaven?" "Why do children suffer?" "Will I ever find someone to love me?"
These questions came from Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Baptists, Methodists, Roman Catholics, and Lutherans. They came from laity and clergy.
Smaller churches can offer a pastor great opportunities for service/fulfillment, but lack the budget to pay well. Retired military men and women often take on second careers with a secure income from their retirement.
Does anyone see a potential for a mutual, God-given calling? My response is yes!
As I was finishing my Air Force career in Montgomery, Ala., I saw quaint towns where small churches scramble for ministers and pulpits stand vacant. Presbyterian churches had no full-time pastor due to their small sizes and budgets, and the financial expectations on these churches by the denomination.
Upon retirement in 2005, I returned to my home state, California, with the desire to attend San Francisco Theological Seminary near that city. As I explored northern California, I discovered a similar situation -- dozens of towns with unfilled Presbyterian pulpits in what is called the Northern parish of the Presbytery of the Redwoods.
Editor's Note: Harry Hassall, retired pastor and resident of Franklin, Tenn., has spearheaded the development of the Wee Kirk Conference ministry program that has been operating for nearly 30 years. Outlook editor Jack Haberer recently sat down with Mr. Hassall to talk about the support of wee kirks.
JH: When I met you about 20 years ago, you were serving as associate pastor in one of the largest churches in the PC(USA). Yet you have a heart for wee kirks. Tell us about that.
HH: Before going to Dallas, I had served 16 small churches, beginning with [the third week of] my first year at Centre College in Kentucky. ... That particular month I started working in McDonald Center in what was called the Knobs -- a patch of bad land in the beautiful blue grass area of central Kentucky. The people who lived there were poverty-stricken, ... doing subsistence farming, and suddenly this city boy -- I did grow up in Nashville, in a middle-size church of 500 or 600 ... found myself in a group of 20 people out in the country, hardly able to scratch a living. Through that experience I became a Knobby, that is, I began to see life from the perspective of a person who did not have adequate sources of income and living nor of church life.
From that point on I served other churches wherever I was. Even at Highland Park, I served two small churches utilizing two interns and my own self to minister and care for the people there. It's just been a part of me.
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