On Mature Disciples of Jesus Christ

Recently, as we gear up for the program year and as I continue to learn about where Arden is, where it has been and where God may be calling us, I’ve been thinking and discussing discipleship a lot. Now, few of my conversations have begun as ones to focus on this. Instead, we’ve talked about Sunday School, missions involvement, serving as leaders in the congregation, and pondering our financial commitments and care of those. All of this really does, though, come back to discipleship. The mission of the United Methodist Church is to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. This primarily happens through the local congregation (ministry candidates, memorize this…and repeat it a couple times during your BOOM exam).

But what do we mean when we talk about making disciples? And thinking of our journeys of faith as, well, journeys—progressions? Where are we headed? What does a mature Christian look like.

Any discussion of TACTICS must be secondary to getting an idea of what we’re trying to get TO. Because only from that frame of reference can we gauge what we ought to be doing—and even further—later assess whether we’re doing what we intended to do. There are tons of churches just doing STUFF with no idea of what they hope to accomplish. Take, for example, Sunday School. There are a lot of churches doing it to do it—because that’s just what churches do. Some churches have stepped away from Sunday morning Christian education—but have found other ways to provide for the Christian education and development of children, youth and adults. That said, many churches also still find that time of Sundays as a key time for Bible study, discussion and growth in faith. After all, what time during the rest of the week is going to be more convenient? Whether a church has a program of not, it ought to be guided by what it’s trying to accomplish. Once you’ve figured that out, start thinking of all the ways you could get from point A to point B. And they look at your list and think through what works best in your context. What works for your congregation may not be what works for the church down the street, or for the big church who pastor’s books you read.

In fact, it may be that one program won’t appeal to all the people at your church. While you can’t please everyone, there may be creative ideas that reach more people that just following one path in isolation.

In the coming months, we’ll begin having some discussions about discipleship. In that vein, the first question I hope we’ll consider is this: What does a mature Christian look like?

Let’s think both about generalities but also specifics. For example, we might say a mature Christian disciple prays regularly (maybe we’d give more specifics) and is growing constantly in their understanding of the Bible, traditions of the faith, and theology. On a more specific level, think of the “snapshots” of mature faith in the people whose faith you admire.

The next question is this: How does a person become that?

Then: What should we be doing to help a person along that path?

I invite you to begin thinking about this. Look for examples. Ask others. I’m excited to see where our discussions (both formal and informal) take us.

On the End of Summer (A Camp Director Wife's View)

My husband is a camp director. Now this means different things at different places. What it means for us is that during the school year, he works full time in the office and hosting retreat groups (usually weekends, sometimes during the week). When there are retreat groups, he generally has to be on site (we also live on site). This is cumbersome, but doable. We've worked out a certain rhythm with retreat season.

But then there’s summer camp season. Summer camp season is a whole different beast. Summer camp season starts at the beginning of June (or so) with two weeks of staff training. Then…approximately 10 weeks of summer camp. Midday Sunday through Friday evening, my husband could have over 100 kids and adults (plus his staff) on site. His days usually begin about 7:30 a.m. (sometimes earlier, but rarely later) and last till…well, 7:30 p.m. if we’re lucky. Sometimes 9 easily. And then he’s “ON’ ALL THE TIME. HE can and has gotten calls at midnight, 4 am, you name it.

For all the load, and as much as retreat season is rewarding, my husband’s call and passion are really for summer camp. It’s why he does (and many do) what he does. It’s also the most draining part of our entire year.

As a pastor, I have busy seasons, for sure. But even the epic build up to Christmas (Easter is rarely ever as complicated and drawn out) lasts only a fraction of the length of summer camp season.

Today is the last day of summer camp for this year. THE LAST DAY! I’m a bit stoked. It has been a great summer for camp. But our past two summers have been some of the hardest ever. And that had largely to do with personal stuff, not camp. (The craziest year of camp was prob. Chris’ first or second summers—those were crazy, but at least everything else was stable).

Last summer, we were expecting our second daughter, whose due date was the day after camp would end. Being our second child, we were convinced she would come early. I was getting a new boss halfway through the summer, and so anticipated a breakneck pace to help her settle in before I went out on maternity leave.  It would be a crazy summer but we had a plan.

Well, you know about plans.

Two days after my new senior pastor began, my father died of a massive heart attack. He was outside gardening. Mary didn’t come early as we expected. She didn’t even come even remotely near her due date. Two weeks after her due date, my midwives had to start to induce me (fortunately I didn’t need Pitocin)—she couldn't wait any longer. We made it to the end of camp limping along. Later, my husband would admit he’d begun to be concerned about me – to stressed and anxious did I seem to him.

This summer, as we prepared for another summer, game planned my pastoral transition in the middle of the summer, going to a new church and being back on my own as sole pastor, we were busy with preparations. And, of course, there was summer camp. On the first day of camp, we learned that my brother Dan had taken his own life.

Needless to say, these past two summers have been long and challenging on a personal level. I’m happy to say they have been good summers for camp. Camper registration numbers continue to grow. Lives continue to be touched and changed and kids, youth and adults are learning about and growing in their relationship with God. It is a testimony to my husband’s passion for his work, skill at what he does, and love for his family that he’s been able to balance all of these things.

All of this, I guess, to say, while I love camp and especially the way it allows my husband to latch onto his calling and the gifts God has given him, it is also nice to be standing at the end of this year’s journey. For the next nine months we’ll get into a new routine…then we’ll launch back into another summer.

I pray that as we all enter new seasons – school starting back up, people returning from vacations (we never get to take a summer vacation!), fall routines falling back into place, I pray the year ahead is a good one. A year when we feel God powerful at work. A year when we get to be drawn into the amazing things God is doing. And yes, seasons of rest and renewal as well. Especially for those of us for whom the summer is anything but.

On Suicide

Last night came the news that fills the airwaves, Twitterverse and conversations today: actor and comedian Robin Williams died yesterday in what authorities and his family believe was a suicide. His final act, that of taking his own life, is now the most discussed and analyzed moment of his life.

The reactions to this news have been, well, predictable. And of those was one comment I saw as I read through my Facebook friends’ status posts on his death: “Sad, but predictable.”

I do not know the man who posted this comment to one of the posts of one of my colleagues. It is surely possible his reaction comes from a sadly-experienced knowledge of suicide from someone close to him. All suicides, like all lives, are different. But there is something sad and wrong about that sentiment—one which so many share even if they don’t say it out loud. Something that I also used to agree with.

Until two months ago. On Sunday, June 15, 2014 (Father’s Day—more about that later) my mother discovered that my brother Dan had taken his own life. Later when we attempted to reconstruct a timeline of Dan’s last days, we came to believe his life most likely ended in the early morning hours of Friday, June 13^th.

I used to think suicide was fairly predictable. I used to believe it was the crescendo of a life of depression, pain and burdens which could no longer be born. It is some of that. And perhaps sometimes it is predictable. But mostly, I believe, it is not.

Suicide is not predictable because though there is often a certain twisted logic to it, no reasonable assessment of the circumstances shows that it is the only option even in the darkest of times. And many people find themselves in such dark places and come out of it. As I read about suicide after Dan’s death, I was surprised to discover that the most common sentiment of those who attempt suicide (those who fail in their attempt and live to tell the story) is not decisiveness, but rather ambivalence. I always figured someone would weigh all options before turning to the option of last resort. For most people, however, this seems not to be the case.

I had learned, in my training working in residence life at two colleges and as a pastor, that people who decide to commit suicide often have a peace about them once they made the decision. That led me to believe the decision was one that bought closure and peace, and one which was thought out in advance. You know, you see in the movies that people decide, make plans, write a note, etc.

Yes, for some people, that is how it happens. The hours and days leading up to their suicide can in retrospect provide many clues. The problem is for most of us, who do not struggle daily with depression and anxiety that clouds our emotions and thoughts, we don’t walk around keyed into such signs. Even more, for many people, they do not decide until the moment they act. And, in fact, are not, even in that moment, what we would consider “decided.” Their actions are not the well-thought-out plans of a reasonable though clouded assessment of their lives. Seeing before them several options, they, in that moment, chose to try one. The thing is, for most, there is no un-doing it.

Some reports say that only a third or fewer people who commit suicide leave suicide notes. My brother did not. And the truth is, even a note wouldn’t give you what was all in their minds—and in many cases such notes fail to offer peace or even a reasoning that is logical or comforting to those left behind.

Indeed, in the vast majority of cases of suicide, there ARE clues. Or risk factors. Robin Williams had at least three: a history of mental illness, a recent major medical procedure (a heart procedure—such procedures can wreak havoc on the already-fragile chemical balance of someone with mental illness) and a recent addiction relapse and treatment.

My brother was dealing with many stresses in his final days. Financial pressures were overwhelming (I don’t know for certain precisely how these weighed on him but I know just learning the depth of these stressed me out after his death). Though he faced a welcome change in his job (Dan was a United Methodist pastor and was about to start a two new churches), the list of things to be attended to for the transition was enormous. And perhaps most overwhelming of all, our father had died a year earlier of a sudden heart attack (and our paternal grandfather had died several months later). For all that weighed on Dan, I cannot find it to be coincidental that he took his life Father’s Day weekend.

Given all of those pressures, though, was Dan’s suicide predictable? And if so, at what point did it become so? Was it when he was conceived and born—was his DNA and inherited body chemistry such that he was a ticking time bomb? Was it as we all lived through our father’s horrific struggle with bipolar depression, which Dan at times bore the brunt of, and which threatened to take my father’s life during the more than a decade that he struggled to get well? Was Dan’s suicide predictable when he contemplated suicide in college but reached out for help and received treatment that set him on a healthy path that lasted a long time? Was it predictable when he heard a call to ministry, a profession with some rather intimidating rates of mental illness, stress and anxiety?

Was Dan’s suicide predictable the moment our father died—a father he had worked years to rebuild a relationship with? A father who was perhaps one of the few people who really “got” Dan? Was it predictable when I found him sobbing uncontrollably on my front porch the night Dad died? Was it predictable when we consoled ourselves (Dan and I had lived through Dad’s illness more aware than our younger brother and sister because we had been old enough to be aware of what was happening) that at least Dad never had to lose everything all over again—that his mental illness never came back as it had before?

And if any of these things was the point at which Dan’s suicide became predictable, was there anything anyone could have done? What about all the times we tried to help him make better financial decisions—so he didn’t end up in the position he then found himself? What about the times he was encouraged or forced to seek help? And what about all the things that were good about Dan’s life? Were those irrelevant in the span of his life?

What about all the friends Dan had and the lives he touched? What about all the notes of thanks for his ministry that we found throughout his office (which he had received over the years—not just as he prepared for his transition)? What about his joy in being an uncle and the adoration my girls had for him? What about the closeness we shared as siblings after the struggles we had walked through together? What about ALL THE PEOPLE who had reached out to him over the years who he KNEW were there to help him. Why weren’t these good things as equally predictive for his actions?

I do not believe Dan’s death was predictable. Because I believe many people fight the same demons and do not, in one final act, make their most tragic decision. I don’t think Dan should be let off the hook for his final, worst decision. I believe he was hurting and I wish we had known how seriously he was considering suicide. Dan HAD had a rough year, especially in recent months. But he was getting better. Actually, truly getting better. I believe he had begun taking better care of himself--physically and also his mental health, attending to his medications and habits better. Perhaps it was just as things were getting better that he began to recognize the cost of some of his choices. Maybe it was precisely the getting better and having more energy part that was the final straw (the counselor who has helped me during this time pointed out that suicide requires a certain level of energy that people in the deepest parts of depression often lack).

But I also know, from years with a father who struggled (as far as I was aware, far more severely) with mental illness than Dan ever did, that mental illness is hard, long, and wearying for the person suffering and those around them. And I know that there are times of joy and peace and hope even in the worst struggles with it, and that the vast majority of people are able to battle it successfully, some even heroically.

I believe that if Dan were here today, he would mourn his final act as much if not more than any of us. I believe that even with all that was burdening him, he would say he did not fully understand the consequences of his actions. I believe he would say he wished he HAD reached out. And done something, anything, differently. And certainly made a different final decision in those moments. I believe he would not have wanted our mother to bear the grief she carries, and he would have been horrified with the legacy and story that is now part of his nieces' lives because of his final decision.

I do not believe suicide is either a valiant or predictable action. I believe that if you are struggling today with stresses, illness and burdens that seem overwhelming, you can find help and live a life not controlled by those. It may (and likely will be) some hard work. I know that because my father was there too. He did pay a heavy price for his illness and his choices, but he walked through it—even from the point of seriously considering suicide. If suicide is merely predictable, we would have lost Dad many, many years earlier.

I have been pondering what to say about suicide, and I hadn’t been ready to yet, but I felt compelled to today as it is a topic on people’s minds. Indeed, I worry my thoughts and feelings are still to raw and I feel incredible pressure to say things the right way. I am sure there are better words to be said, but these are what I have today.

In the wake of Dan’s death, the Rob Thomas song, “Maybe Someday,” became a powerful reminder to me of the importance of living out loud. Of sharing with each other and being open to asking for help. My prayer is that losses like Dan and Robin Williams, though they can never be redeemed or made right for those left behind, can become an impetus for us to talk openly about mental health, become aware of resources out there, make us compassionate towards one another, and understand that we have meaningful choices to make that have consequences not only for our own lives but for the lives of those around us and indeed the world.

If you are struggling with depression or having thoughts of suicide, please reach out. You can reach the suicide prevention hotline at 1-800-273-8255 or by visiting http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/. Many local communities and basically all college campuses also have their own hotlines as well. If you feel on the verge of hurting yourself, you can also call 911.

If you are dealing with a loved one who is struggling with mental illness, or you, like me, have lost someone to suicide, there are also many resources for you as well. Find a counselor or support group in your area. Don’t keep it in.

Two resources I found helpful in the wake of Dan’s suicide were:

http://www.suicidology.org/c/document_library/get_file?folderId=229&name=DLFE-73.pdf

http://eatthinkbemerry.com/2014/06/a-perspective-on-suicide/

You do not walk this journey alone. Ever.

Grace and Peace.

Sarah

Kids and Faith: A Starting Place

Years ago, at the first church I served, I had the opportunity to do the wedding for a young adult couple with a mixed religious background. Neither were really active in a faith community at the time, though the groom's parents were very active at the church. The bride had grown up with one Christian parent and one Jewish parent and the climate growing up seemed to have been to let her decide for herself (without "forcing" either tradition on her).

I'm quite sure that far more harm has been done to people's faith and willingness to accept a connection with God, Jesus and a faith community by Christians (especially pastors) who guilt tripped them about their faith or lack of. So I tread lightly on the topic of faith as I worked with the couple on premarital counseling. My usual line has to do with, "Look, I'm not going to tell you what to believe. But this will become a bigger deal than it seems now. Especially if you have kids, you won't as much have the opportunity to 'live and let live.' I know people who have presented various backgrounds to their kids..."

Here, the bride stopped me. Gently, she explained that she felt she hadn't grown up with any real religious training. "Choosing for herself" had been challenging because she hadn't had a context from which to see what was out there. She said she planned to raise and children they might have as a Christian. Certainly, for them to decide for themselves as they grew. But at least with a solid compass.

I was humbled. She spoke words I wish I'd had the courage to offer, but they were surely more powerful coming from her.

Over the years, I've met many many more couples facing the bring together of similar backgrounds. In my own extended family there are "mixed marriages." And everyone balances things differently. And with different outcomes, even within the same family.

But there is something very important, I think, about helping our children understand what is important to us, and giving them some information and experience to shape their own faith.

Check out this recent article ("I Take My Children to Church Even Though I Have My Doubts," by Sarah Stewart Holland from the Huffington Post about a woman who walked away from the church but came back when her son was born. Her experience resonates for me of many new parents I have met at church over the years. Many of them have re-discovered their own faith even though they returned for their kids. But some didn't. Everyone is different--and everyone's story is complex.

I want my daughters to be followers of Jesus Christ. I want them to having a powerful, deep connection with God and know God's love in Jesus. I understand that my life, my relationship with them, and how I help shepherd their involvement in church will have an immense impact on this. And I also know in the end, they will have to make their own decisions about what faith and how faith will (or won't) shape their lives and understanding of themselves and the world.

Every day I glimpse moments of my daughters touching something that for me connects so powerfully to the presence of God in the world. I think often about how their Biblical namesakes might offer some inspiration for their faith (Anna -- that she might see what God is doing and tell others, and Mary -- who said YES to God). Most of all, I give thanks for the journey of faith I have walked supported by so many, and I hope my daughters will someday reflect on their journeys of faith in a similar way.

Month 2 Thoughts (and Questions)

This past spring I got the call. THE call. The call I was sure would come weeks earlier than it did. But finally it came. On the one night my husband was out of town all spring and I was alone with the girls. I’d just walked in the door and my house phone rang. It was my district superintendent. Anna, somehow magically figuring out that this was an important call, started running around the house being loud. Mary hadn’t yet developed the ability to be raucous at the worst moments, so she just hung out there in my arms. I was so distracted that I hardly asked any questions. After all, as it turned out, the appointment I was being given by the bishop and cabinet was the one Chris and I had, by powers of deduction, guessed it would be.

I still had to call the DS the next day though and ask all the questions my mom-brain had chased from my mind during the first call.

What follows for a pastor after they get THE call probably differs somewhat in each conference, but in ours (the Baltimore-Washington Conference) it soon leads to a meeting with your new Staff Parish Relations Committee (SPRC) and your outgoing SPRC. Though I’ve never been part of an arranged marriage (though one always wonders if Andy Thornton was up to something when he asked me to help interview candidates for the vacant Manidokan director’s position) I imagine it feels somewhat similar. I am not by nature a terribly nervous person. But my husband told me he’d rarely seen me as nervous as I was when meeting with the Arden UMC SPRC. I’m just glad it wasn’t recorded and I never have to watch it. It was, however, clear to both Chris and I that this was a God-thing, and that it would be a good fit for me professionally, and our family personally.

The months that followed consisted of tying up things at the congregation I was leaving (Calvary UMC) and preparing for my arrival at Arden – meeting with the outgoing pastor (who I’d entered the ministry with and knew fairly well), attending conference transition events, and thinking through how I wanted to start.

The “natural” flow of the transition was horribly interrupted by my brother’s suicide, but it seemed important to me to move forward, to do, as I told people, what he was unable to do in that last tragic moment. So the day after his funeral (also the day before I would officially begin as the pastor at Arden) I moved into my new office.

There are many tasks which I have attended to since beginning at Arden, much prayer and discernment, and a lot of hustling and trying to get up to speed. But also a lot of enjoying my off time with the girls and Chris—and while we love the summer camp season, I must admit I’m looking forward to even more family time as camp winds down.

One of the very first things, though, which started rolling around in my thoughts was the reflection I’d heard from many that Arden was a small church. Now, my previous congregation (where I served as associate pastor) was definitely one of the largest in the conference. Arden worships 130 on an average Sunday, in two (albeit currently a very small early one) services. I’ve also served a church that worshipped about 70—and knew even then that many churches were smaller.

So, I started suggesting to people at Arden that really, we weren’t actually a small church (small is always relative in such a sense). I said we were larger than “most” UM churches, at least in our conference. I was aware, though, that I was just guessing—so I got in touch with the conference office to try to figure out the numbers. You know, I thought it would be nice to actually know what I was talking about. :-) Jo Chesson was able to pull average worship attendance* numbers for me and you know what I found? 

Arden is larger than AT LEAST 68% of the churches in this conference. Really. I know. Even I was surprised. Check out the chart below. As you see, the group we are in includes 100-150. So a number of the churches we are counted WITH are actually SMALLER than Arden UMC.

And on top of that? We are growing. And growing. We are growing in people of all ages, but we are growing specifically in the most sought-after church demographic: families with young children.

In the coming months and year we will continue to be in dialogue about where we have been, what God has been up to here, and where God is calling us. We will be celebrating the vibrant ministry happening here, and seeking to build upon our rich foundation. I am so very excited to get to be part of this journey with the Arden UMC congregation.

I wanted to share with you some questions that are rolling around in my mind and prayers so that you can also reflect and pray upon these. There will be opportunities for dialogue on these (formal or not, if they’re topics God wants us to reflect on, I am sure they will rise up before us). If you already have thoughts on these, please pop into the office, give me a call, or catch me on a Sunday. If you haven’t thought on these before, perhaps take some time at least each week to do so. And most of all, as you lift up your congregation and pastor in prayer, please lift up each of these that we might all receive God’s vision and discernment.

1. What is God’s vision for Arden for 2020?
2.  How large will our worshiping community be in 2016? 2018? 2020?
3. What are the biggest gifts of the congregation which any growth and health will be built upon?
4. What challenges or growing edges will we need to be honest about and prepared for?
5.  Where do the greatest gifts and passions of the congregation meet/intersect with the greatest needs of our community?
6.  Given the legacy of and deep commitment of Arden UMC to strengthening families, what new opportunities can we take advantage of to do this and also reach more people for Jesus?

These are just some of the major questions. Of course there are a host of related practical ones (As we grow, how will we keep apace with parking…congregational care…worship services, etc.?)

It is so very exciting to be part of this key time in the life of Arden UMC. I invite you to continue in prayer for our shared ministry, and to join me as we are about God’s kingdom-building, life-giving, love-overflowing work.

Grace and Peace.

Sarah Schlieckert

*Average worship attendance is generally now believed to be the best metric for the size and health of a congregation because the other statistic that could be used (membership) often reflects administrative issues (like inactive names being left on the rolls after someone is gone), cultural trends (more people who may be active but have a hesitation to "join" any group, and changing attendance patterns (many people considered themselves active at a church when they attend half the time -- this is the new norm in the US).