For the second year in a row, Mark Mayer (with the help of Frank Strakonsky and Cliff
Meyer) made his awesome chicken soup for the tour of churches, at Calvary's open house. Folks
are always asking for the recipe. So, without further ado, here it is:
Ingredients:
- 1 (5lb) chicken
- 1/3 Cup Parsley (Fresh) Chopped
- 1/2 Onion Diced
- 1 Stick of butter
- 8 Eggs - Hard Boiled
- 2.5 lbs Red Potatoes (washed diced unpeeled)
- 1 lb Frozen Sweet White Corn
- 2 Cans Cream of Corn
- 3 Cans Whole Kernel Golden Corn
- 1/3 Cup of Chicken Base
- Salt (to taste)
- Pepper (to taste)
Directions:
In large stockpot add chicken, chopped parsley, diced onion, butter and salt. Fill with water above chicken. Bring to boil and simmer 45 minutes (partially covered).
Hard boil eggs in separate pot.
Remove chicken from stockpot to let cool. Add diced potatoes to stockpot and continue to simmer. While simmering add chicken base, pulled meat from chicken, cream of corn, whole kernel corn, frozen white corn and diced hard-boiled eggs. Salt and Pepper
Bring to easy boil and let simmer 10-15 minutes or until potatoes are done.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
On Ordinary and Extraordinary Things (and People)
So it's been a few weeks since my last posting...though I am sure (well, hopeful at least) that everyone understands since about a week after my last post, I gave birth to our little girl Anna. I'm toying with a second blog to post more about motherhood-related topics, so if you're interested in that, you can check out my other blog (should be linked off my profile now, and I'll post the link later when I've got more posted there).
The past two Sundays, as we've begun Advent at Calvary, Ken as been preaching on the ordinary men and women of the Christmas story, through then lens of the genealogy of Jesus. The main point, of course, for both the men and the women, is that God takes the ordinary (and really, the less than ordinary, the not-worthy) and God makes them part of an extraordinary story--of what God has done and is doing. The men of Jesus' lineage are not always all the fine and upstanding--in fact as Ken pointed out, in at least several generations, God passes Jesus' lineage through the seemingly less respectable (i.e. more crafty or apparently unethical) brother. And many of the women of the genealogy are certainly not who you'd choose. Several are not themselves Jewish, but married into the people of Israel (odd since the Old Testament is often quite harsh in God's commands to the men of Israel not to marry women outside the community) and sometimes, like with Rahab, they're darn shady (she was a prostitute).
All of this gives us hope, doesn't it? That God can and does work through us as well. In fact, it is often precisely when we think are are not worthy to be part of God's great work in the world that we are best able to be used for God's purposes. It's when we empty ourselves of our plans, our ambitions and our need for recognition that God can best shine through us.
This is true not only of people but also of our ability to appreciate God's blessing in our lives. It is in the plain, ordinary moments that we are often most surprised by God's power and presence. I am constantly reminded of this now as a new mom. It's the mornings I wake up, after Anna has had a particularly fitful night of sleep and I have even perhaps been awake more than asleep, and yet quite beyond myself I somehow find the energy (usually it takes a least a shower to get there though!) to quash my tired-grumpiness and just be a mom, recognizing that is what babies do, and Anna simply doesn't know anything different. It's in the moments seemingly small as Chris and I see her becoming more aware of the world, able to see more, being awake more to start to get to know this new world she's a part of, that I am even more amazed at how this whole life thing works.
And it's in the gentle reassurance and encouragement of so many, from family to friends on Facebook, people at church, and even women on some of the online discussion boards (as they encourage one another) that I am reminded that one of the greatest ordinary yet extraordinary parts of our lives is that we are not alone. Not only do we have a God who is always faithful and always with us, but we are connected to so many people who like us, lead ordinary lives, but through whose love and care, we find ourselves doing extraordinary things.
This Advent and Christmas, I hope you have a chance to see the extraordinary in the ordinary around you--especially all the ways that the simplest relationships in your life give evidence of the amazing presence of God all around us and the truth that we are never on our own.
The past two Sundays, as we've begun Advent at Calvary, Ken as been preaching on the ordinary men and women of the Christmas story, through then lens of the genealogy of Jesus. The main point, of course, for both the men and the women, is that God takes the ordinary (and really, the less than ordinary, the not-worthy) and God makes them part of an extraordinary story--of what God has done and is doing. The men of Jesus' lineage are not always all the fine and upstanding--in fact as Ken pointed out, in at least several generations, God passes Jesus' lineage through the seemingly less respectable (i.e. more crafty or apparently unethical) brother. And many of the women of the genealogy are certainly not who you'd choose. Several are not themselves Jewish, but married into the people of Israel (odd since the Old Testament is often quite harsh in God's commands to the men of Israel not to marry women outside the community) and sometimes, like with Rahab, they're darn shady (she was a prostitute).
All of this gives us hope, doesn't it? That God can and does work through us as well. In fact, it is often precisely when we think are are not worthy to be part of God's great work in the world that we are best able to be used for God's purposes. It's when we empty ourselves of our plans, our ambitions and our need for recognition that God can best shine through us.
This is true not only of people but also of our ability to appreciate God's blessing in our lives. It is in the plain, ordinary moments that we are often most surprised by God's power and presence. I am constantly reminded of this now as a new mom. It's the mornings I wake up, after Anna has had a particularly fitful night of sleep and I have even perhaps been awake more than asleep, and yet quite beyond myself I somehow find the energy (usually it takes a least a shower to get there though!) to quash my tired-grumpiness and just be a mom, recognizing that is what babies do, and Anna simply doesn't know anything different. It's in the moments seemingly small as Chris and I see her becoming more aware of the world, able to see more, being awake more to start to get to know this new world she's a part of, that I am even more amazed at how this whole life thing works.
And it's in the gentle reassurance and encouragement of so many, from family to friends on Facebook, people at church, and even women on some of the online discussion boards (as they encourage one another) that I am reminded that one of the greatest ordinary yet extraordinary parts of our lives is that we are not alone. Not only do we have a God who is always faithful and always with us, but we are connected to so many people who like us, lead ordinary lives, but through whose love and care, we find ourselves doing extraordinary things.
This Advent and Christmas, I hope you have a chance to see the extraordinary in the ordinary around you--especially all the ways that the simplest relationships in your life give evidence of the amazing presence of God all around us and the truth that we are never on our own.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
On Patience
Here I sit, just a couple days shy of marking week 39 of this, my first pregnancy. My husband can attest that I have been, thus far, a reasonably sane pregnant lady. Really, I have! But that is all beginning to change.
Early in my pregnancy, I swore I would not be one of those women who starts each day, beginning at week 36, posting on Facebook "Waiting for little one to arrive." I had so determined because (1) that only invites others to comment on your progress (which is nearly always unwelcome) and (2) the last thing my natural impatience needs is a forum! Little one, I determined, would come when she was ready. And well, if she was too long in coming, well, we'd cross that bridge when we came to it.
I had marked the end of my pregnancy with dates and tasks. First, I had hoped to have most projects wrapped up by November 1. Then I preached three Sundays in a row ending with Nov. 7. There were meetings yesterday, and a meeting tomorrow, and other scattered scheduled tasks. But really, I now find myself in the limbo of "If I can do it, that's great, if she comes now and I can't get to it right away, we'll all survive." So I wait. And try to trudge along with tasks. And wait.
My husband says he knew this day would come, though I suspect even he wasn't prepared for the melancholic response he got to his question this morning (as I prepared for my regular work-from-home-day) of "So what are you up to today?" "Ohh....I...don't....know. I don't know what to do. I don't know where to start. I just don't know. What if she comes today? What if she comes three weeks from today? I just don't know." I think he thought he had asked a simple question. Little did he know!
It's really not that bad, you see. I'm fortunate to have options at this point in the game--no bedrest, no limitations, just the general reminders from my midwives that I'm way pregnant and I can act like it. My job gives me enough to stay busy with that I'm not at all concerned I won't get my hours in--there always seems to be something that pops up even on weeks I might otherwise think will be slow. But things are slower these days, and thus far I've managed to at least be okay with that pace. Because goodness knows that "slower" may not be a word I use again anytime soon to describe my schedule.
We still get those folks who comment, "Oh, you know, having a child will change EVERYTHING." Well, yeah, thank you. I hadn't expected that. Seriously, though, we're pretty sure it will, and also pretty sure that no one can actually make us comprehend how much that change will be.
My husband says I'm bad with transitions, and that's true. I'm not good at waiting for a change to happen once it has been decided. I was the one who, once we were engaged, quickly suggested a date a few months off. He wisely suggested at least waiting till the end of the summer. Other dates I just can't change anyway. Like now, 10 days away from our due date, for whatever that is worth, we wait. I keep busy, sometimes burying myself in work, other times catching up on past episodes of those shows that seem always to be on somewhere (Law and Order, City Confidential, etc.). Aside from improving my skills should I ever decide to become a police detective (because, yes, I'm SURE watching TV cops shows is the major component of any good police academy) they occupy my time. Which, sometimes at least these days, is all I really need.
Early in my pregnancy, I swore I would not be one of those women who starts each day, beginning at week 36, posting on Facebook "Waiting for little one to arrive." I had so determined because (1) that only invites others to comment on your progress (which is nearly always unwelcome) and (2) the last thing my natural impatience needs is a forum! Little one, I determined, would come when she was ready. And well, if she was too long in coming, well, we'd cross that bridge when we came to it.
I had marked the end of my pregnancy with dates and tasks. First, I had hoped to have most projects wrapped up by November 1. Then I preached three Sundays in a row ending with Nov. 7. There were meetings yesterday, and a meeting tomorrow, and other scattered scheduled tasks. But really, I now find myself in the limbo of "If I can do it, that's great, if she comes now and I can't get to it right away, we'll all survive." So I wait. And try to trudge along with tasks. And wait.
My husband says he knew this day would come, though I suspect even he wasn't prepared for the melancholic response he got to his question this morning (as I prepared for my regular work-from-home-day) of "So what are you up to today?" "Ohh....I...don't....know. I don't know what to do. I don't know where to start. I just don't know. What if she comes today? What if she comes three weeks from today? I just don't know." I think he thought he had asked a simple question. Little did he know!
It's really not that bad, you see. I'm fortunate to have options at this point in the game--no bedrest, no limitations, just the general reminders from my midwives that I'm way pregnant and I can act like it. My job gives me enough to stay busy with that I'm not at all concerned I won't get my hours in--there always seems to be something that pops up even on weeks I might otherwise think will be slow. But things are slower these days, and thus far I've managed to at least be okay with that pace. Because goodness knows that "slower" may not be a word I use again anytime soon to describe my schedule.
We still get those folks who comment, "Oh, you know, having a child will change EVERYTHING." Well, yeah, thank you. I hadn't expected that. Seriously, though, we're pretty sure it will, and also pretty sure that no one can actually make us comprehend how much that change will be.
My husband says I'm bad with transitions, and that's true. I'm not good at waiting for a change to happen once it has been decided. I was the one who, once we were engaged, quickly suggested a date a few months off. He wisely suggested at least waiting till the end of the summer. Other dates I just can't change anyway. Like now, 10 days away from our due date, for whatever that is worth, we wait. I keep busy, sometimes burying myself in work, other times catching up on past episodes of those shows that seem always to be on somewhere (Law and Order, City Confidential, etc.). Aside from improving my skills should I ever decide to become a police detective (because, yes, I'm SURE watching TV cops shows is the major component of any good police academy) they occupy my time. Which, sometimes at least these days, is all I really need.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Election Day
This morning, as I woke early (to vote--Chris and I both had busy days and it would be our only chance) I checked Facebook, etc. as usual (yes, I generally check Facebook before I get out of bed--my little reassurance that nothing totally insane has begun before my eyes are fully open).
As I did, I saw postings from Facebook friends--past classmates, current colleagues and church members, family, etc., and I was struck by several things as this Election Day got underway. First of all, I think it's pretty awesome that I have such a variety of Facebook friends that I've accumulated over the years. This morning, my Facebook friends (and some last night) were posting support for a whole range of candidates (indeed, many of my friends are all around the country), and some were even out early on the campaign trail. I've got friends on staff of Republican and Democratic officials, and no doubt some who don't care either way (understandably, that last group hasn't actually posted much on the occasion of Election Day). So it was kind of cool--my own little political commentary right there on my Facebook iPhone app.
The other thing was I struck by this morning was imagining how my life would be different on a day like today if I had stayed on my first path--politics. I remember how involved I was in politics in high school (heck, even in elementary school I remember being somewhat politically aware--which was interesting since my parents often disagreed with each other politically, and when I agreed with one I obviously disagreed with the other--and I don't remember EVER getting slack for that from either of them). Indeed, though my politics today probably line up pretty well with both parents (their views are more similar now even to each other than they used to be--maybe a consequence of their divorce) at least at annual conference Dad and I still tease each other about canceling out each others' votes--not always but sometimes. It's a family tradition--he did it to his father, so now it's my turn, right?
You know what, though, it's pretty awesome, I think, that I got to grow up with an understanding of the importance of the political process (to some degree at least) cached within the understanding that we each get to make our own decisions. I certainly disagreed with my parents (and heck, at least they knew I was too young to vote anyway) but I don't ever recall being belittled or disrespected for whatever position I took--though I'm sure some were just plain silly. Come to think of it, though my parents often disagreed with each other, I don't really ever remember either belittling each other for their political views. I knew they disagreed at times, but that always seemed to me an appropriate thing.
So today as I saw many of my friends so actively engaged in the political process, beyond voting, I know I was right there with them until I heard my call to ministry late in high school. I felt God was calling me to help people in a different way, and I have never regretted that choice. There is something of a letdown amidst all the excitement of a day like today that I'm not out on the streets with them, but then again, come Easter, I'll be the one up early preparing for the "big day."
It's also strange, having grown up so politically-interested, to be now in a profession where, at least by my approach to it, I am not at liberty to actively advocate for any candidate or party. Now, some pastors choose to be more active outside the pulpit, but I choose not to--my life is about sharing Christ with people, and while that doesn't mean I can't care or advocate for issues, I also don't need to alienate members by choosing one candidate or another. Certainly IRS rules prevent me from doing so in the pulpit. I do not, however, think a pastor's work is limited to the pulpit, so I choose to be very cautious in any public forum--including Facebook.
Pastors today do not have the treasured status they once had, but I still think we ought to take our positions seriously. Some pastors, for this reason, advocate for particular parties or candidates. I choose not to...because I don't think it ultimately helps anyone for a pastor to be campaigning.
So here I am, on this day of days, which a few years ago I might have expected would be my biggest day all year, and I have done my part in the day. I have voted. I have even encouraged others to vote. But I have not advocated for any candidate and I won't. No yard signs for me. No Facebook endorsements. No snarky comments (though I'm really good at those, I just keep them limited to immediate family-sharing). Because ultimately, there are a lot of really good people whose life didn't change course as mine did. And I choose to believe they're trying their best to do a good job. They might have some very different ideas--some which I may disagree with passionately. But I believe in our nation's democratic principles, and that means I get to find a way to "make it work" no matter what today's outcome is.
As I did, I saw postings from Facebook friends--past classmates, current colleagues and church members, family, etc., and I was struck by several things as this Election Day got underway. First of all, I think it's pretty awesome that I have such a variety of Facebook friends that I've accumulated over the years. This morning, my Facebook friends (and some last night) were posting support for a whole range of candidates (indeed, many of my friends are all around the country), and some were even out early on the campaign trail. I've got friends on staff of Republican and Democratic officials, and no doubt some who don't care either way (understandably, that last group hasn't actually posted much on the occasion of Election Day). So it was kind of cool--my own little political commentary right there on my Facebook iPhone app.
The other thing was I struck by this morning was imagining how my life would be different on a day like today if I had stayed on my first path--politics. I remember how involved I was in politics in high school (heck, even in elementary school I remember being somewhat politically aware--which was interesting since my parents often disagreed with each other politically, and when I agreed with one I obviously disagreed with the other--and I don't remember EVER getting slack for that from either of them). Indeed, though my politics today probably line up pretty well with both parents (their views are more similar now even to each other than they used to be--maybe a consequence of their divorce) at least at annual conference Dad and I still tease each other about canceling out each others' votes--not always but sometimes. It's a family tradition--he did it to his father, so now it's my turn, right?
You know what, though, it's pretty awesome, I think, that I got to grow up with an understanding of the importance of the political process (to some degree at least) cached within the understanding that we each get to make our own decisions. I certainly disagreed with my parents (and heck, at least they knew I was too young to vote anyway) but I don't ever recall being belittled or disrespected for whatever position I took--though I'm sure some were just plain silly. Come to think of it, though my parents often disagreed with each other, I don't really ever remember either belittling each other for their political views. I knew they disagreed at times, but that always seemed to me an appropriate thing.
So today as I saw many of my friends so actively engaged in the political process, beyond voting, I know I was right there with them until I heard my call to ministry late in high school. I felt God was calling me to help people in a different way, and I have never regretted that choice. There is something of a letdown amidst all the excitement of a day like today that I'm not out on the streets with them, but then again, come Easter, I'll be the one up early preparing for the "big day."
It's also strange, having grown up so politically-interested, to be now in a profession where, at least by my approach to it, I am not at liberty to actively advocate for any candidate or party. Now, some pastors choose to be more active outside the pulpit, but I choose not to--my life is about sharing Christ with people, and while that doesn't mean I can't care or advocate for issues, I also don't need to alienate members by choosing one candidate or another. Certainly IRS rules prevent me from doing so in the pulpit. I do not, however, think a pastor's work is limited to the pulpit, so I choose to be very cautious in any public forum--including Facebook.
Pastors today do not have the treasured status they once had, but I still think we ought to take our positions seriously. Some pastors, for this reason, advocate for particular parties or candidates. I choose not to...because I don't think it ultimately helps anyone for a pastor to be campaigning.
So here I am, on this day of days, which a few years ago I might have expected would be my biggest day all year, and I have done my part in the day. I have voted. I have even encouraged others to vote. But I have not advocated for any candidate and I won't. No yard signs for me. No Facebook endorsements. No snarky comments (though I'm really good at those, I just keep them limited to immediate family-sharing). Because ultimately, there are a lot of really good people whose life didn't change course as mine did. And I choose to believe they're trying their best to do a good job. They might have some very different ideas--some which I may disagree with passionately. But I believe in our nation's democratic principles, and that means I get to find a way to "make it work" no matter what today's outcome is.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Goals and Priorities
This is the time of year when many organizations are evaluating how things have been going this year and looking ahead to next year and the coming year. Those organizations with a good practice on this are probably actual reviewing goals for next year they're already set, and looking further ahead. At Calvary, our program ministries this year have been working to set goals, with the hope that we can truly begin to get our work in line with our mission.
The thing is this (and it is true for any organization): there are a myriad of things that could be done...but not all can be done at once. Therefore, best practices invite us to be discerning as we choose WHAT to do. Indeed, even if we could do something REALLY WELL, if it doesn't feed our vision, it ought to be laid aside.
I thought of this recently as I heard that our annual conference's communications folks won an award for an immersion series they developed. Now, we have awesome communications folks. I've had opportunity to work with them on a couple difference things, and they work hard and know what they're doing. But I am troubled about our conference's allotment of energy and resources when making disciples (or, measured more objectively, growth in membership and worship attendance) is one of the key goals and metrics we use. Can we develop great resources? Sure. Is that what we ought to be spending our time doing? I have severe reservations about that.
Walk into any Christian bookstore, and you will see a TON of resources. On pretty much anything. Are they exactly what we think churches should use? Maybe not always, but you know what, a lot of the time, they're pretty darn good. Why not spend less time developing resources that only a small portion of churches use, and more time developing a focus around a key area (hey, I'll even give it to the conference that churches need help finding these resources, even though I think it's really not that hard for pastors to do). Instead of using our conference staff to essentially rewrite materials that exist, why not invite them to be resources for churches who are using an already developed resource--like coming as a speaker to worship or a study group during that unit?
It is easy--and a dangerous trap--to get really good at doing something that at best only peripherally achieves your key goals. In fact, I think this is essentially the thing experts would say hold businesses and groups back...back from what someone like Jim Collins would call going from good to great. We have got to stop being so dang impressed with ourselves or set on doing something unique that we don't really DO much of anything all that important.
This same principle--of allotting resources to actually accomplish those things most important to you--is also something we all have to face in our personal lives. How do we decide how much money to give to our church? To other groups? How do we budget our time and resources, and what does that say about us? Do our actual lived-out priorities actually line up with the ones we tell ourselves and others we have?
Chris and I have been really thinking about this recently as we've been preparing for the arrival of our first child in a few weeks. (You can lay aside the, "you really don't know what you're getting into" speech...we've heard it, and while we are prepared for expectations to be blasted a bit, some people are just mean and try to scare new parents.) At any rate, we've looked at our plans (breastfeeding; cloth diapers--yes, I do actually have a plan, we're not just winging this, and yes, we understand this involves more laundry; and changing our schedules a bit so we can DO as much of our daughter's childcare as possible). We are fortunate to have options in these and other areas because of our jobs, and I certainly understand and appreciate that many (perhaps most people) don't have the options we have. That itself poses challenges--we have options, but it means we really have some very valid options from which to choose. Deciding how to allot resources of money, time and energy feels like some chess game (in which we expect the pieces to move a lot once she's here and to keep moving!)
But all of this really comes down to what do you want to be and do, and are you actually willing to focus on DOING those things you say are your priorities, even if you can do other things well, even really well. Chris and I were both raised by (at the time) stay at home moms. We both like the idea of our child having a parent at home with them, but we are both very committed to our ministries (both our own and each others') and we believe our vocations are an important part of who we are as a family. Balancing these priorities will not be easy, and will force us to make changes to our routine to try to find some balance (like working from home some, taking our daughter to work some, and maybe seeing each other a bit less). But it does leave room for maintaining even some of those--for example, we've decided it's important to keep taking the same day off together (during retreat season that's Monday, generally) and we'd rather pay for childcare on another day so we can do that.
Setting goals and examining priorities is not complicated stuff...the challenge is actually living them out. And that is something we all continue to struggle with as individuals, businesses, churches and organizations.
The thing is this (and it is true for any organization): there are a myriad of things that could be done...but not all can be done at once. Therefore, best practices invite us to be discerning as we choose WHAT to do. Indeed, even if we could do something REALLY WELL, if it doesn't feed our vision, it ought to be laid aside.
I thought of this recently as I heard that our annual conference's communications folks won an award for an immersion series they developed. Now, we have awesome communications folks. I've had opportunity to work with them on a couple difference things, and they work hard and know what they're doing. But I am troubled about our conference's allotment of energy and resources when making disciples (or, measured more objectively, growth in membership and worship attendance) is one of the key goals and metrics we use. Can we develop great resources? Sure. Is that what we ought to be spending our time doing? I have severe reservations about that.
Walk into any Christian bookstore, and you will see a TON of resources. On pretty much anything. Are they exactly what we think churches should use? Maybe not always, but you know what, a lot of the time, they're pretty darn good. Why not spend less time developing resources that only a small portion of churches use, and more time developing a focus around a key area (hey, I'll even give it to the conference that churches need help finding these resources, even though I think it's really not that hard for pastors to do). Instead of using our conference staff to essentially rewrite materials that exist, why not invite them to be resources for churches who are using an already developed resource--like coming as a speaker to worship or a study group during that unit?
It is easy--and a dangerous trap--to get really good at doing something that at best only peripherally achieves your key goals. In fact, I think this is essentially the thing experts would say hold businesses and groups back...back from what someone like Jim Collins would call going from good to great. We have got to stop being so dang impressed with ourselves or set on doing something unique that we don't really DO much of anything all that important.
This same principle--of allotting resources to actually accomplish those things most important to you--is also something we all have to face in our personal lives. How do we decide how much money to give to our church? To other groups? How do we budget our time and resources, and what does that say about us? Do our actual lived-out priorities actually line up with the ones we tell ourselves and others we have?
Chris and I have been really thinking about this recently as we've been preparing for the arrival of our first child in a few weeks. (You can lay aside the, "you really don't know what you're getting into" speech...we've heard it, and while we are prepared for expectations to be blasted a bit, some people are just mean and try to scare new parents.) At any rate, we've looked at our plans (breastfeeding; cloth diapers--yes, I do actually have a plan, we're not just winging this, and yes, we understand this involves more laundry; and changing our schedules a bit so we can DO as much of our daughter's childcare as possible). We are fortunate to have options in these and other areas because of our jobs, and I certainly understand and appreciate that many (perhaps most people) don't have the options we have. That itself poses challenges--we have options, but it means we really have some very valid options from which to choose. Deciding how to allot resources of money, time and energy feels like some chess game (in which we expect the pieces to move a lot once she's here and to keep moving!)
But all of this really comes down to what do you want to be and do, and are you actually willing to focus on DOING those things you say are your priorities, even if you can do other things well, even really well. Chris and I were both raised by (at the time) stay at home moms. We both like the idea of our child having a parent at home with them, but we are both very committed to our ministries (both our own and each others') and we believe our vocations are an important part of who we are as a family. Balancing these priorities will not be easy, and will force us to make changes to our routine to try to find some balance (like working from home some, taking our daughter to work some, and maybe seeing each other a bit less). But it does leave room for maintaining even some of those--for example, we've decided it's important to keep taking the same day off together (during retreat season that's Monday, generally) and we'd rather pay for childcare on another day so we can do that.
Setting goals and examining priorities is not complicated stuff...the challenge is actually living them out. And that is something we all continue to struggle with as individuals, businesses, churches and organizations.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
My Call to Ministry
So for some reason I think I've actually blogged about this at some point, but since a quick glance at my blog titles doesn't indicate to me when I might have done so, below is my response to an oft-asked question...how did you hear a call to ministry? In fact, the account below is what I wrote today when asked by someone entering the lay speaker process...apparently there are several questions they have to ask a pastor or two, and this is one of them (I've been asked the same by lay-speakers-in-training before).
Let me first say that as a firm believer in the priesthood of all believers, I think we are all called to ministry. So really, this is my answer to the question, "What on earth gave you the idea to be a United Methodist pastor?" I've had to relate this many different times, and I tell it in somewhat different ways each time, but here is basically the story...
I received my call to ministry while a junior and senior in high school. Prior to that, and really, even at the time, I had been very active in student government and local government. I served as a student member on the Baltimore City School Board, and an officer in the Baltimore City Student Government association, as well as a legislative coordinator for the MD state student government (following and testifying at state hearings related to public education). I was one of two finalists elected as nominee to the Governor for student member on the state school board—that this happened at a time when there was great discord between the state schools folks and the Baltimore City Schools folks didn’t help my chances, and at any rate, the other candidate was chosen. I was also involved in various local campaigns.
About this time, not only was I experiencing some challenges in my roles in government (I also served as student body president at my high school) but I was realizing that politics did not bring out the best in me. I don’t mean that it is that way for everyone, but the whole system of it can just take you over, and I did not like who it was making me be, and the more I thought about it, and the more politicians I was around, the more disillusioned I became. About this time, I started asking myself if this was really what I wanted to spend my life doing—knowing that if I do anything I do it full bore, at the end of my life, would this be (and would it make me) something I was content with, even proud of. The more I thought of it, the more I had to admit that my answer was no.
Meanwhile, I was continuing to serve in leadership at my church. My father served as pastor at Brooklyn United Methodist Church (South Baltimore), and I, by that time, was the teacher for the 3-5 Sunday School class (much to my sister’s frustration!). I was involved in many different ways at church, and had always been a student of my father’s ministry, from which I had originally taken cues for my political leadership opportunities. I would also, from time to time, serve as the teacher for the older adults Sunday School class—they had a rotating schedule of teachers. One day, after teaching that class (God only knows what possessed them to invite a high school junior to teach them! What a gift!) one of the older women of the church, knowing my political involvement, said, “It’s such a shame you’re not going to be a pastor like your father.”
Such an option had honestly never occurred to me. Not for any good reason, mind you, other than that since my father had always been my pastor (and the one time he’d served on a church staff his senior pastor was a man) I had never actually SEEN a female pastor. I knew female pastors, I just hadn’t ever experienced one as a pastor. This is not at all due to any prejudices on my family’s part, indeed, my father and grandfather have long been (long before I ever heard a call to ministry) ardent supporters of women in ministry. Having come out of the United Brethren Church, my grandfather is very proud of that church’s ordination of women having begun in 1889 (it stopped a bit later after their merge with the Evangelical Assn, but they always were a old fashioned bunch—which is saying something coming from an UB!). In fact, I have heard from several older clergywomen in our annual conference who not only appreciated having my grandfather as DS, having found him supportive, but at least one clergywoman who actually transferred TO THIS CONFERENCE because of my grandfather’s support and encouragement. My father likewise has long been supportive of women in ministry. I have thus been quite blessed that though I had never thought of being a pastor, there was no gender-bias in my family nor in my church at that time. It was only later that I came to realize how remarkable it was to receive such words of support from that elderly woman—she too had never experienced a woman as pastor, but I truly believe it was through her that God called me.
After that comment from that women, I began to think and pray about the call. I shared it with my parents. My father took to giving me opportunities to “try out” ministry, including the gift of being able to preach (pastors are often very stingy with their pulpits, but Dad let me preach a couple times a year at least, and the congregation was gracious and constructive in their reception and feedback). My mother, meanwhile, was concerned that I not simply choose to do something my father was doing (for various reasons more complicated than can be described briefly, and owing in large part to the dynamics of our family at that time) and she asked that I wait a year before beginning the candidacy process. I did so, and then officially began the process my senior year in high school. In the end, that year wait was a very good thing, because it not only allowed me to reflect more, but also allowed me to gain more input from others (like my high school principal) and the constant positive responses I received were vital, I think, to keeping me going in the years ahead.
So, I would say I heard my call my junior year in high school, began to embrace it my senior year, then in college, under the wonderful tutelage of Dr. Charles (Buz) Myers and his ability to help me think through the Biblical passages about women in church leadership (it was important to me that I wasn’t disregarding parts of scripture I didn’t like, but he was able to help me place those passages in context and help me understand God’s call to ministry in women’s lives) I was able, I think, to finally fully embrace my call. I graduated from Gettysburg College with a double-major in history and religion (I may have had some minors, I don’t remember) and then went straight to Duke Divinity School (the seminary my father attended, which was nice, but moreso they offered me a full scholarship which made it an easy call!). Duke was a perfect fit for me, though seminary is, I think, always quite a growing experienced and I certainly experienced some growing pains. I was a certified candidate for ministry by the time I graduated from college, and was commissioned the year I graduated from Duke, and ordained after the requisite three year probationary period (required by our conference at the time).
People often ask me if I was called to ministry because my father, grandfather and great-grandfather were (plus I’ve got a great-great-great grandfather who was a licensed Methodist preacher—my great-great grandfather was a founding member of Grace UB (now UMC) in Hagerstown). In a lot of ways, as I mentioned, that actually was a hindrance at first. But getting past that, it certainly was a blessing to have such a legacy. At a time when many young people can’t really imagine what life as a pastor would be like, I never had illusions about what lie ahead, and the option of being a pastor was always quite real (as in I could imagine what it would be like, it wasn’t very distant). I was also able to learn a great deal from my father and grandfather that allowed me to start the candidacy process ahead of the game than others in terms of my understanding of it and my comfort level with the people and pastors I can in contact with during the process. Along with that, however, comes not only the good but also the bad. Being the child of someone in the same industry (because I suspect this is the same in a lot of venues) also means you bear the hard feelings and tensions of your forbearers. So it can never be assumed to be a universally good thing, but I have been very blessed by the legacy of my father, grandfather and great-grandfather.
Let me first say that as a firm believer in the priesthood of all believers, I think we are all called to ministry. So really, this is my answer to the question, "What on earth gave you the idea to be a United Methodist pastor?" I've had to relate this many different times, and I tell it in somewhat different ways each time, but here is basically the story...
I received my call to ministry while a junior and senior in high school. Prior to that, and really, even at the time, I had been very active in student government and local government. I served as a student member on the Baltimore City School Board, and an officer in the Baltimore City Student Government association, as well as a legislative coordinator for the MD state student government (following and testifying at state hearings related to public education). I was one of two finalists elected as nominee to the Governor for student member on the state school board—that this happened at a time when there was great discord between the state schools folks and the Baltimore City Schools folks didn’t help my chances, and at any rate, the other candidate was chosen. I was also involved in various local campaigns.
About this time, not only was I experiencing some challenges in my roles in government (I also served as student body president at my high school) but I was realizing that politics did not bring out the best in me. I don’t mean that it is that way for everyone, but the whole system of it can just take you over, and I did not like who it was making me be, and the more I thought about it, and the more politicians I was around, the more disillusioned I became. About this time, I started asking myself if this was really what I wanted to spend my life doing—knowing that if I do anything I do it full bore, at the end of my life, would this be (and would it make me) something I was content with, even proud of. The more I thought of it, the more I had to admit that my answer was no.
Meanwhile, I was continuing to serve in leadership at my church. My father served as pastor at Brooklyn United Methodist Church (South Baltimore), and I, by that time, was the teacher for the 3-5 Sunday School class (much to my sister’s frustration!). I was involved in many different ways at church, and had always been a student of my father’s ministry, from which I had originally taken cues for my political leadership opportunities. I would also, from time to time, serve as the teacher for the older adults Sunday School class—they had a rotating schedule of teachers. One day, after teaching that class (God only knows what possessed them to invite a high school junior to teach them! What a gift!) one of the older women of the church, knowing my political involvement, said, “It’s such a shame you’re not going to be a pastor like your father.”
Such an option had honestly never occurred to me. Not for any good reason, mind you, other than that since my father had always been my pastor (and the one time he’d served on a church staff his senior pastor was a man) I had never actually SEEN a female pastor. I knew female pastors, I just hadn’t ever experienced one as a pastor. This is not at all due to any prejudices on my family’s part, indeed, my father and grandfather have long been (long before I ever heard a call to ministry) ardent supporters of women in ministry. Having come out of the United Brethren Church, my grandfather is very proud of that church’s ordination of women having begun in 1889 (it stopped a bit later after their merge with the Evangelical Assn, but they always were a old fashioned bunch—which is saying something coming from an UB!). In fact, I have heard from several older clergywomen in our annual conference who not only appreciated having my grandfather as DS, having found him supportive, but at least one clergywoman who actually transferred TO THIS CONFERENCE because of my grandfather’s support and encouragement. My father likewise has long been supportive of women in ministry. I have thus been quite blessed that though I had never thought of being a pastor, there was no gender-bias in my family nor in my church at that time. It was only later that I came to realize how remarkable it was to receive such words of support from that elderly woman—she too had never experienced a woman as pastor, but I truly believe it was through her that God called me.
After that comment from that women, I began to think and pray about the call. I shared it with my parents. My father took to giving me opportunities to “try out” ministry, including the gift of being able to preach (pastors are often very stingy with their pulpits, but Dad let me preach a couple times a year at least, and the congregation was gracious and constructive in their reception and feedback). My mother, meanwhile, was concerned that I not simply choose to do something my father was doing (for various reasons more complicated than can be described briefly, and owing in large part to the dynamics of our family at that time) and she asked that I wait a year before beginning the candidacy process. I did so, and then officially began the process my senior year in high school. In the end, that year wait was a very good thing, because it not only allowed me to reflect more, but also allowed me to gain more input from others (like my high school principal) and the constant positive responses I received were vital, I think, to keeping me going in the years ahead.
So, I would say I heard my call my junior year in high school, began to embrace it my senior year, then in college, under the wonderful tutelage of Dr. Charles (Buz) Myers and his ability to help me think through the Biblical passages about women in church leadership (it was important to me that I wasn’t disregarding parts of scripture I didn’t like, but he was able to help me place those passages in context and help me understand God’s call to ministry in women’s lives) I was able, I think, to finally fully embrace my call. I graduated from Gettysburg College with a double-major in history and religion (I may have had some minors, I don’t remember) and then went straight to Duke Divinity School (the seminary my father attended, which was nice, but moreso they offered me a full scholarship which made it an easy call!). Duke was a perfect fit for me, though seminary is, I think, always quite a growing experienced and I certainly experienced some growing pains. I was a certified candidate for ministry by the time I graduated from college, and was commissioned the year I graduated from Duke, and ordained after the requisite three year probationary period (required by our conference at the time).
People often ask me if I was called to ministry because my father, grandfather and great-grandfather were (plus I’ve got a great-great-great grandfather who was a licensed Methodist preacher—my great-great grandfather was a founding member of Grace UB (now UMC) in Hagerstown). In a lot of ways, as I mentioned, that actually was a hindrance at first. But getting past that, it certainly was a blessing to have such a legacy. At a time when many young people can’t really imagine what life as a pastor would be like, I never had illusions about what lie ahead, and the option of being a pastor was always quite real (as in I could imagine what it would be like, it wasn’t very distant). I was also able to learn a great deal from my father and grandfather that allowed me to start the candidacy process ahead of the game than others in terms of my understanding of it and my comfort level with the people and pastors I can in contact with during the process. Along with that, however, comes not only the good but also the bad. Being the child of someone in the same industry (because I suspect this is the same in a lot of venues) also means you bear the hard feelings and tensions of your forbearers. So it can never be assumed to be a universally good thing, but I have been very blessed by the legacy of my father, grandfather and great-grandfather.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Church Leadership
You can't turn on the news lately without seeing some latest story on Christian leadership--whether specifically in a church (Bishop Eddie Long) or beyond (the Roman Catholic Church's handling of something, or the Pope's recent visit to England). As a pastor, I'm also deep into the topic of Christian leadership as I live out my own call, and when I interact with my colleagues in ministry.
In the wake of the Eddie Long allegations, I returned to a book I'd read many years ago, Overcoming the Dark Side of Leadership. A short trip to Amazon.com revealed a revised edition has since come out, and thanks to the fact that I can order things a bit too easily on Amazon with an iPhone now, a copy of it now sits on my coffee table (in my defense, I'm not sure where my old copy is, so it's not like I have two now...though I wouldn't be opposed to that...) :-)
On of the major premises of the book is that the same qualities that raise a person to success are the same ones which, left unchecked, which can spell their downfall. And often in equal proportions. This premise isn't new to us, if only because popular discourse has zeroed in of this concept in the years since the book was first published. And yet, our church leaders remain remarkably unaffected by the lessons we have learned along these lines.
I was fortunate in my own ministry to have worked with two pastors during seminary (each during my two required field education placements) whose own lives and examples taught me a great deal about how I wanted to live my life--not just be a pastor, but be a person. On of those pastors is about as different personality-wise from me as is possible. Laid-back, a fount of soothing words and pastoral presence, he routinely cared for himself in the same way he so deftly cared for others. When he was working, he poured himself into it. When he had time off, he did so with the same commitment and ease. All of that, I say, as it seemed to me, of course.
My other supervising pastor had, it seemed to both of us, a quite similar personality to me. Driven, prone to keep at a project till completion, he however had learned through some challenging experiences of his own that you can only drive yourself at a break-neck pace for so long before you crash. His insight and experience he freely shared, and it helped me understand that I needed to reign in my own first-child tendencies before they did me in.
Both men graciously taught me that while it is important to be who God has created me to be, and while I cannot change my personality (and why would I want to, especially the very things that are the basis for any success?), I must manage those same qualities to try to keep them from overgrowing my life--like the kudzu that has overtaken much of the North Carolina roadsides.
That said, I am nowhere near where I'd like to be. My own best habits still don't all come naturally to me, and I struggle (like most people) to balance the various demands upon my time (including my own expectations). As my pregnancy has progressed, it's been interesting to find ways to lighten up on my own expectations for what I will be getting done, since my midwife basically tells me I need to start acting like the 8-month pregnant woman that I am! Now lest you think I'm working myself into an early grave, I am not. Nor am I putting my child at risk. Those aren't the stakes we're talking about. Trust me, if things were bad, I wouldn't blog about them. And nothing frustrates me more than someone simply saying, "Oh, you need to take it easy." Such a line simply denies that each of us are different and the ways we balance our lives are also different.And changing our habits is not easy.
So I am still learning. I am certain I am doing better, and there's nothing like awaiting a baby (and knowing that the chance to slow down will be gone after that!) to actually make you slow down.
We all have our dark sides. They are, indeed, often the same things that make us who we are at our best moments. At our worst moments, they are the strongest qualities of us unchecked. For some it make be the desire to work hard and long (at its worst this destroys other areas of our lives). For others, it may be the ability to take time off (which can devolve into laziness if unchecked). For some it is the ability to offer advice (which in its worst incarnation becomes a patronizing commitment to tell others how to live their lives). For others still, it may be their charisma (which can turn into a self-serving hunger that is fed in unhealthy ways). On and on the list goes.
As Christian leaders, indeed, as Christians, our first focus ought always to be on ourselves, always recognizing our own strengths and weaknesses, and particularly how our dark sides are likely to develop. We must also admit that we are not always (sometimes even usually) the best set of eyes looking at ourselves, and find people we trust to hold us accountable--NOTE: don't ever offer yourself as someone else's source of accountability. Such condescension will nearly always be unwelcome. But when we find those people in our lives who truly know us, not the snippets we share with the world, we can indeed find deep friendships that can help us grow in our strengths without letting those same strengths be the weights that eventually drag us down.
In the wake of the Eddie Long allegations, I returned to a book I'd read many years ago, Overcoming the Dark Side of Leadership. A short trip to Amazon.com revealed a revised edition has since come out, and thanks to the fact that I can order things a bit too easily on Amazon with an iPhone now, a copy of it now sits on my coffee table (in my defense, I'm not sure where my old copy is, so it's not like I have two now...though I wouldn't be opposed to that...) :-)
On of the major premises of the book is that the same qualities that raise a person to success are the same ones which, left unchecked, which can spell their downfall. And often in equal proportions. This premise isn't new to us, if only because popular discourse has zeroed in of this concept in the years since the book was first published. And yet, our church leaders remain remarkably unaffected by the lessons we have learned along these lines.
I was fortunate in my own ministry to have worked with two pastors during seminary (each during my two required field education placements) whose own lives and examples taught me a great deal about how I wanted to live my life--not just be a pastor, but be a person. On of those pastors is about as different personality-wise from me as is possible. Laid-back, a fount of soothing words and pastoral presence, he routinely cared for himself in the same way he so deftly cared for others. When he was working, he poured himself into it. When he had time off, he did so with the same commitment and ease. All of that, I say, as it seemed to me, of course.
My other supervising pastor had, it seemed to both of us, a quite similar personality to me. Driven, prone to keep at a project till completion, he however had learned through some challenging experiences of his own that you can only drive yourself at a break-neck pace for so long before you crash. His insight and experience he freely shared, and it helped me understand that I needed to reign in my own first-child tendencies before they did me in.
Both men graciously taught me that while it is important to be who God has created me to be, and while I cannot change my personality (and why would I want to, especially the very things that are the basis for any success?), I must manage those same qualities to try to keep them from overgrowing my life--like the kudzu that has overtaken much of the North Carolina roadsides.
That said, I am nowhere near where I'd like to be. My own best habits still don't all come naturally to me, and I struggle (like most people) to balance the various demands upon my time (including my own expectations). As my pregnancy has progressed, it's been interesting to find ways to lighten up on my own expectations for what I will be getting done, since my midwife basically tells me I need to start acting like the 8-month pregnant woman that I am! Now lest you think I'm working myself into an early grave, I am not. Nor am I putting my child at risk. Those aren't the stakes we're talking about. Trust me, if things were bad, I wouldn't blog about them. And nothing frustrates me more than someone simply saying, "Oh, you need to take it easy." Such a line simply denies that each of us are different and the ways we balance our lives are also different.And changing our habits is not easy.
So I am still learning. I am certain I am doing better, and there's nothing like awaiting a baby (and knowing that the chance to slow down will be gone after that!) to actually make you slow down.
We all have our dark sides. They are, indeed, often the same things that make us who we are at our best moments. At our worst moments, they are the strongest qualities of us unchecked. For some it make be the desire to work hard and long (at its worst this destroys other areas of our lives). For others, it may be the ability to take time off (which can devolve into laziness if unchecked). For some it is the ability to offer advice (which in its worst incarnation becomes a patronizing commitment to tell others how to live their lives). For others still, it may be their charisma (which can turn into a self-serving hunger that is fed in unhealthy ways). On and on the list goes.
As Christian leaders, indeed, as Christians, our first focus ought always to be on ourselves, always recognizing our own strengths and weaknesses, and particularly how our dark sides are likely to develop. We must also admit that we are not always (sometimes even usually) the best set of eyes looking at ourselves, and find people we trust to hold us accountable--NOTE: don't ever offer yourself as someone else's source of accountability. Such condescension will nearly always be unwelcome. But when we find those people in our lives who truly know us, not the snippets we share with the world, we can indeed find deep friendships that can help us grow in our strengths without letting those same strengths be the weights that eventually drag us down.
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