On Dad's Birthday and The Untidiness of Death (and Life)

Today would have been my father’s 57^th birthday. It would have, except that he died suddenly and unexpectedly of a massive heart attack almost two years ago, July 3.

I remember much about the days after his death. My father’s death, like his life, left in its wake a mess for others to clean up. Only this time, Dad isn’t here to help, or to push along with his, “It’s better to ask forgiveness than permission” motto. He is also not here to come in with his calm, jovial personality (when at his best) to diffuse or completely mask the pain.

Chris and I are fans of the show “The Good Wife.” We started watching it because we’d previously been fans of the show “Numbers,” and when we heard the same brothers (Ridley Scott and Tony Scott) who had made that show had a new show, we had to check it out. And we got hooked.

Little did we know that one of the brothers, Tony Scott, would become himself a news story, like his characters. In August of 2012, he committed suicide. I remember at the time—before I ever imagined our family would have its own story of suicide—thinking it highly unlikely that he hadn’t, as stories seemed to say, really indicated why he had done it. I was sure the family knew and was keeping it. And maybe they are. We are not entitled to the fine details of their pain. But I know now that many, even most, people who commit suicide do not leave a note. And even when they do, it’s rarely the entire story. News stories about Tony Scott’s death indicate that he left a note, but it did not reveal why he took his life.

What I remember most about that tragic loss, though, is something Tony’s brother Ridley said later, when defending the show’s sudden, and not-neat death of one of its key characters, Will Gardner. I can’t find the quote now (so indeed, maybe it is apocryphal and conflated with words of others on the show) but it was something to the extent of how he wanted the death to seem real. And often, death does not bring the neat and tidy endings portrayed in film and TV. Sometimes, as the show has teased out with Will’s death, there is mess, and uncertainty. Sometimes you try to think back over the final days of a person’s life to fill in the holes your relationship with them left. And usually, try as you might, you cannot tidy things up.

Indeed, sometimes the untidiness of death also leads us to focus more on a person’s death than their life. I suspect this is true and becomes less so as time passes, once you resign yourself to the untidiness of it all.

My father lived 55 years and a couple months. He experienced many things in those years. He had great successes and deep failures. He helped many people and hurt some.

Today, yes, his birthday still brings thoughts of his death. Not his death itself, but all the things I would’ve liked resolved. Tidied up. I would very much like the script rewritten. But we do not have those chances in life. Nor do we know how “rewrites” would impact the final draft. Maybe next year will, as this year is from the last, be even easier. Perhaps we shall get even more of the mess left to us cleaned up. Perhaps I will be able to even more fully see Dad with the eyes I proclaim to others, that we are never known to God by our worst moments.

I remain convinced that Dad knew the love of God. That he was deeply grateful to have been called to share God’s love with others. That he sought to live out, day by day, the Prayer of Thomas Merton. A prayer which had such meaning and importance for him. In all of life’s rewrites, it is indeed well that all of us hold on to it as well:

"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always, though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. Amen."

Nehemiah 2:1-6

Continuing my slow journey through Nehemiah, today we ease into the second chapter.

The first chapter is preparation. Setting the stage. Now things get moving.

We know already that Nehemiah is cupbearer to the king. The king has enough regard for him, this passage shows, to be aware of his moods. Now I’m no royal, nor have I been in the presence of one. But I do watch Game of Thrones. A season or two seasons behind. So I know that not all royals give a hoot about what other people are feeling. Or if they do, only about select people. King Artaxerxes almost certainly fit into this latter group. So the mere fact he mentions Nehemiah’s mood evidences something we’ve already seen: Nehemiah is in a unique place to act.

Nehemiah isn’t under any illusion of his importance though. He is not trying to manipulate. This is no House of Cards power broker. The scripture says he was “very much afraid.”

Many have said that courage is not the absence of fear, but of pressing on nonetheless. Nelson Mandela, for example, is quoted as saying, “I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.”

Courage requires deliberation, and a careful assessment (well, some assessment) of the risks. Otherwise, it’s just carelessness or bravado. And perhaps there is a place and time for those. Or not. But courage is a different sort of quality. Nehemiah has courage. And his courage is not borne of arrogance in his own wisdom or will, nor of a shallow desire to exert his influence. It comes from a place of discerning God’s will and knowing, as many before and after him would know, that if we follow God’s will, well, that’s all and only what we should do. I might like to say, if you follow God’s will, you will succeed, but that involves also our ability to define success. Follow God’s will. Do that. And you’ll be doing God’s will. And that is the greatest good. That is success. It may not look or feel like it. And it may cost you much, even your life (Jesus, of course, suggests this). But it will be a deeper, more truer success than any person can define.

Nehemiah seeks God’s guidance throughout. He doesn’t pop in with some thin, theologically-starved conviction that if he seeks to follow God’s will he’ll be master of all. He just takes it one step at a time.

I used to watch (and still do sometimes) lots of Law and Order. One of the things I learned about the legal system (the first is, if you commit a crime, DON’T TELL ANYONE…well, that’s second, the first is, don’t commit a crime…) is that you should just answer the question you are asked. This is actually always a good guidance. Parents—just answer the question your kid asks. Pastors—just answer the question your members ask. All of this to say part of our pedagogical role is to help people ask better questions. But answering the question asked is a good place to start. And if under pressure or duress, a good place to stay.

That’s what Nehemiah does. First he answers the king’s question about why he’s sad, then Nehemiah waits for the king’s next question. Well, what do you want? And Nehemiah is ready. We cannot create some of the most important opportunities in our lives. But we can be prepared. Prepared to respond. Sometimes we won’t even know what the opportunities are we would seek. But we ought always to be prayerfully tuned in to the ways God is always calling us to new things. Sometimes there are also indeed some specific needs we fell God calling us to. And being prepared to move if and when the opportunity arises? Well, that’s just good stewardship.

I love the king’s response. He didn’t give a yes or no. I mean, his answer was clearly yes. But even his response looked further ahead. It wasn’t just about Nehemiah’s mission, but about when he would return. What is next. Looking ahead is a key quality of great leaders. I can’t comment on Artaxerxes’ leadership. But what he did there is what I home my leaders do for me, and what I can do for others. Always keep looking ahead. Because that is where God does God’s greatest work.

And there’s a lot of great stuff ahead for Nehemiah. As there is for us—even further ahead than the goals and dreams we can each articulate now. God is always doing something new and driving us forward.

And just think, we get to be part of it all!!! How cool.

My First (and Probably Last) Appointment Post for 2015

We are easing our way into appointment season and several of you have remarked to me, privately, that you’ve been eagerly awaiting my updates. While I’m honored that my comments and info-sharing has become a significant part of your celebration of this important season in the church (well, if you’re a church geek), I have always done so quite amateurish. In recent years, the bishop, cabinet and conference staff (esp. Melissa Lauber and her Communications team) have done a wonderful job, if I may say so, pre-empting me. I am quite pleased for this to be the case. In past years, I had gathered and shared information that I found to have been public knowledge already, but which was not yet shared on the conference website. The Conference got wise to this, and appropriately so, decided they would be better able to manage this info by simply putting it out there. No one asked me to stop posting, they just started posting with such frequency as to make any effort on my part, well, redundant.

Nonetheless, like many of my colleagues, I do from time to time hear bit of info before announced, but these are often not even public yet, and I would not share that info in any forum anyway.

So, I got nothing. And I don’t anticipate posting updates, because, well, the conference is doing quite well themselves. I for one am also glad they stopped publishing the paragraph write ups on the churches and pastors. Those were always more entertainment than informational. Because really, if you want to know what’s going on at a church, yes, check stats (I know, I hear a groan from the peanut gallery) and ask people who know that church or pastor. Even that only gets you a small picture. But it’s better than the glossy images those paragraphs painted.

So, in this, my first (and I expect last) post of this appointment season, rather than share any inside info on appointments, I thought I’d revisit a topic of previous posts and explain a bit about appointments and how they’re done.

ITINERACY

One of the distinctive characteristics of the United Methodist Church is our system of itineracy (ministry candidates, REMEMBER THIS…also remember: episcopacy—having bishops, and connectionalism).

Itineracy is the system by which United Methodist clergy are assigned to local churches or other church positions (the latter could include denominational leadership, except the role of bishop, which is an elected position). And yes, you heard me correctly, ASSIGNED. Why yes, indeed, this works much like the military. Ordained elders serve “at the pleasure of the bishop,” and part of our ordination vows include a commitment to go when and where the bishops send us. This generally means only within the bounds of a single annual conference. Our annual conference is the Baltimore-Washington Conference, which includes most of Maryland (minus the Eastern Shore and far Western MD), part of the panhandle of West Virginia (Berkeley, Jefferson and Morgan counties), and all of Washington, DC. Oh, and Bermuda. Seriously. We’ve got two churches in Bermuda. Because we’re that awesome.

It is possible to change Annual Conferences, but usually the pastor has to initiate this (this would happen, say, if a pastor had a need to move for a spouse’s job, or to be closer to a sick parent, they didn’t like their home conference and wanted a change, etc.). You’re not guaranteed to be allowed to switch conference. You are, however, if an ordained elder, guaranteed a full-time job in a local church or other church role. This has created some problems and there have been attempts to get rid of the guaranteed appointment policy, but as of now, it stands.

Itineracy has its critics, and rightly so. In the past there were maximum limits for a pastor to stay at one appointment (an “appointment” is where a pastor serves—this could be one or more churches, or a staff position). The earliest appointments generally consisted of many churches. Like 5, 6 or more. Pastors were constantly travelling. Those early Methodist clergy rode hard and died young. Their horses probably did too. Those first appointments lasted a year, maybe two. Later, as clergy got more settled and some served fewer churches at a time, and some (GASP!) only one, they may have been able to stay four years. As far as I am aware, four years was the last max limit. After that they removed a hard limit, though many churches even today have had few pastors longer than that. Small churches often, though not always, tend to have pastors for fewer years at a time. Larger churches tend to have pastors longer. Again, this is not always true, and there are so many exception so as to make this statement maybe not even a fair generalization, but I think it’s truer than not.

In those early years, laity largely ran the business of the local church, and clergy really only had more training than them in areas of preaching and teaching. Today’s clergy, however, have a seminary degree, and in addition to Biblical and theological training, also some training and experience in leadership, management and other areas so as to be professionals in their field.

It is becoming increasingly known that pastorates longer than 4 years have a great deal of benefit, in ideal circumstances, for both clergy and congregations. Under our previous bishop, I think the guidance they shared was aiming for a minimum of 7 years, average of 10, and max of 12. Now, those of your with experience in local churches will easily find fault with these (or any) numbers. But I do think it’s fair to say there’s a minimum amount of time a pastor needs to be at a church to really get any momentum to move forward, and there’s clearly a length of time that is TOO LONG. The too long can entail the pastor and congregation getting too comfortable with each other, the church becoming too closely identified with the pastor, or the pastor ceasing to continue to grow as a professional in their field.

Itineracy shares the wealth and yes, sometimes spreads the dysfunction. Those things apply both to clergy and congregations. And yes, sometimes good, effective pastors and congregations are matched and it is the chemistry, not either themselves per se, that doesn’t mesh.

There are lots of theological and historical reasons for our system of itineracy. I like it. I think for its weaknesses it gives us a great deal of blessing and strength. It’s totally cool, too, if you disagree. You just probably should not be a United Methodist pastor if you do disagree. Because you’ll be miserable. And make the rest of us miserable with you.

THE APPOINTMENT PROCESS

Appointments are generally made in late winter/early spring, to be effective July 1. This varies a bit across annual conferences, but it is how it has always been, in my experience, in our annual conference. There are two key groups of information, and a third that is more casually gathered, which begin the bishop and cabinet’s work on appointments. First, all clergy anticipating retirement are supposed to give the bishop sufficient notification. I think the deadline is December 1. Clearly the churches these pastors serve will need new pastors. Second, all clergy AND local churches (via their Staff-Parish Relations Committee, or SPRC) must complete a form also due December 1 saying whether they (clergy) want to stay where they are or (congregations) want their pastors to stay. They’re asked to give some brief reasoning for whatever they choose.

These forms are called “advisory forms.” They advise. They do not direct. If you ask for a move it doesn’t mean you will get one. If you ask to stay, it doesn’t mean you will get to. I guess in theory that might be true about retiring, but I’ve never heard of that not being granted. I’ve heard of the advisory forms not being followed. Now lest you think the bishop and cabinet are sitting somewhere just trying to be jerks about this, there are at least (and probably more) four things they’re trying to balance all this stuff with:

1.       God’s guidance. Yes, they pray. They take their work seriously. We’re all counting on the role of the Holy Spirit in this.

2.       The finite nature of the world (and the finite number of churches and pastors). Sometimes the math doesn’t add up. There’s nowhere to move someone, or nowhere better. Or no pastor better.

3.       Sometimes you’re wrong. Or at least other people (mostly the bishop and cabinet) think you are. Sometimes a pastor needs to push through a difficult situation. Sometimes a congregation has just the pastor they need, and they need to learn to work with them. Sometimes you’re needed more somewhere else. Sometimes #1 and #2 (above) just get in the way.

4.       The ten million other conditions upon appointments. Not all of which can be met all the time. What pastor wants or needs a parsonage vs. housing allowance. What churches have a parsonage vs. housing allowance. Where a pastor’s spouse works. Or whether their kid is one year shy of high school graduation. Or how close a particular appointment is to the medical specialists the pastor of their loved ones needs to see frequently.

You get the picture. Easy to throw stones. We all (well most of us) probably have. And I’ll go out on a limb here and say sometimes they get it wrong. Or sometimes they get it right and there are still pieces that don’t fall perfectly into place. Sometimes things happen. People change. Congregations change. Appointments are a lot more like arranged marriages than we might think. And there’s good and bad to be said for that.

The third moving piece are conflicts within local churches and amongst clergy and congregations. These pieces unfold throughout the year, and these (along with sudden severe illnesses or deaths) are what force mid-appointment-year moves that later play a role in the process. My father had just begun (like 3 days in) to another year at his appointment when he died suddenly. Retired pastors (as was done in that case) are usually brought in to finish the appointment year in such a case. But really, any of us could be moved. Any day. To anywhere in the conference. It has happened.

THE TIMELINE

I already explained that this process, in our annual conference, begins late winter/early spring. I don’t know when the discussions begin (and whether there’s an informal vs. formal phase) but for sure the formal phase, the point where the appointments start getting made, is early February, give or take.

Usually the churches pastors are retiring from are filled (and announced). These create what you may hear called “lines of move.” By that, we mean, Pastor A retires from Church 1. Church 1 now needs a pastor so Pastor B is appointed FROM Church 2 TO Church 1. Now Church 2 needs a pastor so Pastor C is appointed TO Church 2 FROM Church 3. On and on. The last pastors to be appointed will tend to be newer pastors or Local Pastors (pastors who are licensed but not ordained and who generally though not always serve smaller or part-time appointments). The last churches to receive pastors will generally (though not always) be the smaller churches. Since the whole thing is like some combination of dominoes and chess, it has to be done step by step. And this takes time.

So…let’s say the cabinet and bishop decide on an appointment. Pastor B is going to Church 1. Now the District Superintendent gets to work. The DS calls Pastor B. The DS tells Pastor B that they are receiving a new appointment and tells them a bit about the church. Pastor B can ask some questions. What the DS says next varies depending on the Bishop and DS. Pastor B may be told to pray about it, and let the DS know their willingness maybe the next day. Or, the DS can say basically this is it. And if you’re Pastor B and you’ve got an issues with it, you need to speak up quickly. But really, you serve at the pleasure of the bishop. I know of appointments which have been reconsidered, and changed. But I also know of some which were not. I know of pastors who would ask for reconsideration under certainly circumstances. And I know of some who would not. So let’s say the pastor is on board. Next they have to have a meeting with the SPRC of Church 1 (where they are going). The DS calls the chair of the SPRC of Church 1 and tells them to (and usually when) schedule a meeting. Church 1 usually knows they’re getting a new pastor, because either theirs is retiring, or theirs has already been appointed elsewhere in that cycle. The DS also calls the SPRC of the church Pastor B is leaving. They have to meet too, to learn their pastor is leaving, and also to talk with the DS (usually though not always) about the process going forward for them, and anything else they want to share with the DS about who to appoint to them. Note that at this point, sometimes their next pastor is already on the deck in the cabinet’s mind.

And so it goes. The meetings are held. If either the pastor or church has major issues, it’s shared with the DS, but really, that meeting “sets the appointment.” It will generally be announced the upcoming Sunday, as long as both SPRCs have met.

There is a great deal of consultation in this process, of the bishop and cabinet asking for information, The thing is, if you (as a pastor or congregation) only wait till appointment season to make sure your DS and the bishop know about you and your church, you’re not going to be able to convey all that. It’s important that you stay in communication and regularly share with your DS about you so that at appointment time (because sometimes you’ll be or receive an appointment when you least expect it) you’re not just another pastor or church. DSes have a responsibility to learn this information, but you also have a responsibility to share it. The bishop and cabinet are not wizards or mad scientists. They can only work with what they know, and you have a role in that.

So, there is much more that could be said, but I’ll leave it there for now. If you have additional questions, post as a comment and I’ll try to answer or find the answer. Otherwise, I think this will be it for me for this appointment season…at least online… J

Grace and Peace.

Sarah

Nehemiah 1:11c

"At the time, I was cupbearer to the king." (Nehemiah 1:11c)

This week, I’ve been sitting with this line. It comes as the tail end of the first chapter of Nehemiah. It seems like a passing comment. Maybe it is. But there is a whole complexity of opportunity, limitation, hope and anxiety all loaded into this sentence. A sentence that Biblical scholars didn’t deem worthy of its own verse number.

We are prone to follow after the sentiment of our day (of some at least) that we can be, do, achieve whatever we want. Whatever we set our minds to. That this is a patently false statement is widely attested by nearly any study touching upon this question. We are the product of so many powerful forces, which all interact with family dynamics, whatever tendencies our DNA lends to us, the place and time in which we are born. Some factors which have more influence on you than you may think are: how many words you heard as a small child, your parents’ economic status, and how you played (and/or were allowed or encouraged to) as a child.

Nehemiah’s story, and the story of the rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem are powerfully impacted by this statement.

Nehemiah’s role as cupbearer to the king tells us that he had a place of some importance and trust. This gave him access to the king in a way few others (especially Jews) had in his day. That access and trust certainly laid an important foundation for the support he would receive from the king. At the same time, however, this role closely aligned him with the empire. This would create some challenge when he sought to return and connect with the Jews living in Jerusalem.  And it no doubt impacted him in many ways which are not apparent to us. Both good and bad.

We are the same. At any given time, the role, place, identity we have offers both opportunity and challenge. And we can be tempted to focus on comparing ourselves rather than assessing both opportunity and challenge (or, perhaps, focusing on challenge).

In March 1955, a young, unmarried and pregnant woman named Claudette Colvin, was arrested for resisting bus segregation in Montgomery. Though considered as a cause to force the issue of segregation, local African-American organizers felt this was not the case to force the issue. Nine months later, Rosa Parks resisted segregation on a bus, leading to a massive movement that is often hailed as a landmark movement in the history of the Civil Rights movement.

A young pastor had become pastor of Dexter Avenue Baptist Church the previous year. In March of 1955, he was pastoring there as well as finishing his doctoral studies at Boston University. By December, when organizers in Montgomery were galvanized by Rosa Parks’ act of defiance to bus segregation, King was selected as the primary spokesperson for the action. He quickly rose to prominence and today remains one of the best-known leaders of the Civil Rights Movement.

Some have suggested that the delay from the experience of Colvin to Parks opened a door for King. However those familiar with this situation might conclude, indeed sometimes small facts of our identities, role and timing are incredibly determinative for our lives.

All this forces me to look at who I am and where I find myself now. Not comparing myself to others (I do this sometimes, and it is pretty much always demoralizing). But the place you find yourself now is a place God can use you. How God uses you, and what God uses you for, well, you may have no idea now. But we are all, each of us, part of a story bigger than ourselves. We have meaningful choices to make, but those choices are conditioned by forces far beyond our control. Indeed, much as we might like to think the opposite, much of life is beyond our control. But we have much influence over how we function in this time, space and place. We are called to do so in a way that opens us to God’s guidance and call.

Take a couple minutes, and try this exercise: make a list of all the roles, titles, positions you are/have right now. Son or daughter. Friend. Pastor. Church member. Teacher. Neighbor. Board member. Recovering addict. Then, think about what opportunities and challenges these might present. What gifts have you received to have these roles? What challenges do these present, either to you personally, or your desire to push towards some goal or call upon your life?

"At the time, I was cupbearer to the king."

What will your story say about who you were at precisely that point where God was able to use you most powerfully?

On Nehemiah 1:4-11a

So we’ve started in Nehemiah. And we started with the truth. The hard, not-pretty truth. But it’s where we have to start.

But of course, the story doesn’t end there. It’s God’s story, right? So we go right from brokenness to healing, right?

Nope. Not even a little.

Nehemiah then writes, “When I heard these words I sat down and wept, and mourned for days, fasting and praying before the God of heaven.”

He goes on to tell us what he prayed. Here’s my paraphrase: “God, you keep your promises. We sinned. Don’t forget, though, that you said we would suffer if we sinned, but you would still have us back if we would just get back on your agenda. Let’s get to that. Today.”

And not only that, Nehemiah recalls that the promise was that God would restore God’s people, “to the place at which I [God] have chosen to establish my name.”

Several years ago, I was speaking with a woman whose nephew had suffered a tragic accident while at college that left him brain dead. As the days passed and doctors tried to fully assess his condition and his parents and family prayed and tried to process what to do, the woman told me of a hospital chaplain who visited with the family. The chaplain asked this woman, the boy’s aunt, how she was doing. She quite honestly explained she was angry at God. The chaplain’s response? That she shouldn’t be angry at God.

I literally felt my hackles getting up (I don’t know what hackles are, but they were getting up, as they say).

I’d like to see that chaplain tell that to, well, any of the writers in Scripture. Job has a careful theological reflection on being angry at God, though it can still leave many questions. But you know what the Biblical writers did? They got angry at God. Why? Because surely someone was to blame. And when you’re in the throes of pain, that’s a poor time to try to become a theologian.

Theology is important. Terribly important. It matters what we say and believe about God, partly because when push comes to shove, it’s the theology (the thinking and understanding we have of God) that we cultivate in the calm times that is refined and tried in the challenging ones. That helps us know who God is and where our hope and faith is. Well, at least it has been that way for me.

But those first few minutes, hours and days as we experience or process some significant pain or loss, we often lack the resources for disciplined theological reflection. We cry out in the same way a small child does, for our parent. And often in crying out, we lash out.

God is God. God has seen it before. Our own awesomeness, eloquence and ferocity aside, God has seen it all. God can take it. While harm can be done by carrying anger towards God, I have also seen great pain in people’s lives when they have felt they cannot be honest with God.

I think of it this way: Some marriages (indeed, this is true of any relationship) have indeed broken down because of intense fights and anger. But far, far more have broken down because one or both people stopped talking. Gave up. Were no longer willing to engage in the hard work of talking through, being honest, being gracious, and yes, even naming the pain and hurt.

It is silence, in its passive-aggressive, not-peace-but-not-war, I-don’t-care-enough-to-fight-anymore that breaks more hearts and relationships, I think, than anything.

So too with our relationship with God. It seems to me far better to cry out, even in anger, to God, than to stop talking. To be invested enough to keep a foot in the relationship.

There is a time for the important work of reflecting on the brokenness of creation, the nature of sin, the human need for God’s grace. But sometimes we just need to cry. Sometimes we just need to be angry.

And that is ok.

We just cannot stay there.

But it is where Nehemiah is today. He’s heard the truth. And he’s crying out. His words are not nearly as angry and broken towards God as some (check out Lamentations, especially chapter three, if you really want someone to just hang with you in misery).

Nehemiah’s words are, of course, true for where he’s at. And don’t forget we worship a God who meets us where we are.

So stop pretending. Stop trying to be someone you’re not. You don’t have to put on a brave or happy face. Just name where you are. Like the power of naming the brokenness, there is great power in naming where we are.

Just always remember, this is not the end point, but the beginning. It is where God comes to us. And the God who has brought us this far, will not leave us in that place.

On Nehemiah and the New Year

I’ve been pondering this blog for a while. While I’ve always aspired to be more regular in my writing here (and never managed to actually do so), the past year has been particularly challenging. After getting through 2013, a year we lost both my father and grandfather, I ached for 2014 to be calmer. But that was not to be.

2014 started as the year I would likely receive a new appointment. After 4 ½ years at Calvary UMC in Frederick as associate pastor, I had asked for a move. Leaving the people at Calvary was incredibly sad for me and our family, but five years as an associate is a long time, well, for all but the most sainted among us. We received word I would become pastor at Arden UMC outside of Martinsburg. We were excited, but also knew the process to settle into a new congregation is challenging.

But perhaps more than anything else, 2014 was a difficult year because of my brother Dan’s suicide. I still reflect on this. I probably always will. Today, as I drove away from a meeting of the Board of Ordained Ministry and thought ahead to next week and the Full Member Exam, I remembered Dan a year ago at that very exam. I remember how excited he was going into it. And I remember the painful wait as I knew his results but couldn’t tell him. And I remember talking to him that day, the day he found out. I remember so much. But I don’t know where it all went wrong. Where it all came off the rails.

At any rate, I haven’t wanted to just write this blog about Dan. Sometimes Dan (his life, his experience as a pastor, his suicide, and how much I’ve realized I didn’t know) is all I want to talk and write about. Other times, I don’t want to think about it at all. I want it to have never happened, and since I cannot turn back time, the next best thing seems to be to set it aside for a time. To not think about it. To find a way to carve out at least part of life that doesn’t bring constant opportunities to remember and think, “What if…?”

I’ve also wanted to find a new path into scripture this year. I have tried various daily devotionals. I have a four year old and a one year old. I need fast and easy tools to do just about anything. I envy my colleagues whose devotional and prayer life reaches the heights I think befit a pastor. Many days, though, I’m just trying to figure out how to stay on top of work tasks, reach out to the people who need care, deal with the challenges of the day, not (in light of all that) be impatient when my four year old wants to play dress up before bed, or my one year old just wants to be held when she gets home from daycare, even though I also really just want to share my day with my husband and get his reminder that it’s all going to work out somehow. That God isn’t done with us all, and our chaos and mess yet.

Tonight, as I pulled out a t-shirt to try to exchange the pressures of the day for the evening, I reached for the t-shirt I got when I travelled to New Orleans with a team from Jefferson UMC, my first appointment. On it is a quote from Nehemiah, “Come let us rebuild…”

That’s where I’m at. So…I’m going to hang out with Nehemiah for a while. I’m not going to promise to post daily. But I’m going to sit with Nehemiah s 2015 starts, and I promise to share thoughts here. I hope that if you haven’t decided how you’re going to delve into scripture this year, you’ll find what works for you as well—whether reading through the Bible, one book, a daily devotional. As I’ve learned, there’s simply too much going on to NOT take the time. And let’s be honest, you have to make the time—it won’t fall into your lap.

Here’s the beginning of Nehemiah:

1 The words of Nehemiah son of Hacaliah. In the month of Chislev, in the twentieth year, while I was in Susa the capital, 2 one of my brothers, Hanani, came with certain men from Judah; and I asked them about the Jews that survived, those who had escaped the captivity, and about Jerusalem. 3 They replied, “The survivors there in the province who escaped captivity are in great trouble and shame; the wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and its gates have been destroyed by fire.”

So here, we see, things are off to a bad start. Nehemiah is in Susa (so, in exile). He starts in a place that isn’t home. And yet, it’s the only home he’s ever known.  He’s got some sense of that home, because he has interest in Judah, and the Jews left behind there. So we know he hasn’t become to completely wrapped into the exile that he’s stopped caring. That’s a start. He’s in the wrong place, but has some sense there’s something different, maybe better (or worse).

Their report?

Not good: “The survivors there in the province who escaped captivity are in great trouble and shame; the wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and its gates have been destroyed by fire.”

What’s left is in ruins. Years have passed, and it’s all still in ruins.

Here’s the thing that stand out to me about this – partly because I know how the story ends – the story starts with the truth. With, “Look, here’s the thing…”

 No whitewashing. No avoiding. No “Well, there’s a lot of good that can be said…” Honesty about the brokenness. There’s an immense power in that. Healing and hope must be built upon honesty and seeing things as they really are. I can tell you one of the most destructive things to a life, church, family or community is an unwillingness to be honest with each other, or to be honest about what is broken.

So we start here. With the truth. The dirty, nasty, unpleasant truth. This is where God needs us to be. It is a hard place to be. We would like to hear gentler things. Things we can hear and stay where we are. But that’s not what Nehemiah’s story is. It is not a story of staying put. And thank God for that! But it has to start with honesty, clarity, and the courage to tell the truth.

Not a bad place for any of us to start 2015.

On Answering Our Kids' Tough Questions

This morning, as I was driving my daughters (Anna, 3 and Mary, 1) to school, Anna and I had a chance to talk. We don’t always have such a chance in the mornings, since it wasn’t till recently that I conceded that Mary wasn’t going to get a cat-nap on the drive (she often wakes up at 5:30 am and life is easier if she does—but she’s been over her morning nap this week).

Anna and I spend a good bit of time talking while driving since we spend at least an hour each day total in the car together. Usually these conversations are pretty simple ones, but today Anna had her Wheaties, it seems.

She asked two questions which would cause any parents to pause:

1.       What is God?

2.       Tell me about Santa. (Technically this isn’t a question but you get the point)

Now I am in no way a parenting expert. And there’s a context to these questions that is different for every family and kid. We are pretty open with our girls (not that Mary knows the difference) about life. During the past 14 months, my father and grandfather died, and my brother Dan committed suicide. We don’t share all details of these, but we decided early on that as far as possible, we didn’t want to tell our girls anything we had to un-teach them. Unfolding lessons, yes. Having to say, “Well, that’s not actually true, that’s just what we told you.” No.

I thought I’d share how I approached these questions. Not as the example of how you should, but just as one way, and to share why I said what I said.

WHAT IS GOD?

First off, I thought this question was a doozy. I thought it was insightfully put. Not “Who is God?” But “WHAT is God?” And let’s be honest, both of those questions still confound adults. So first off, it seemed to me Anna also didn’t need a simple answer.

But before I started, there were some questions I had to ask her, including at least the first question anyone put on the spot (whether put on the spot by a child OR an adult): What do you mean?

Anna’s reply: “How is God in the whole world?”

This still doesn’t narrow things down too much. Yeah, really not at all.

But here’s the thing—why would we give our kids answers that God doesn’t even try to give US? How do the people of God come to know God and how God is at work in the world? Not by theological treatise. Fortunately. But by recounting, yes, how God has been known to be at work in the world. And where do we find this? In scripture.

If someone asks you about God, and you start spouting off theological principles, stop yourself. Even Jesus doesn’t do this. Instead, Jesus offers parables. Because as it turns out, it’s remarkably difficult to convey in direct language much about the nature of God. We encounter God through the narrative of the people of God. And that narrative begins at our beginning.

That’s why I found myself recounting for Anna the story of creation and of Adam and Eve. Because that is where our human understanding of God begins. And it’s hard to go wrong when just referring to scripture. Ok, maybe that’s not true. But it’s a safer place than any to start, I think.

Now the concept of a God who existed before anything is hard to imagine. The best I could come to explaining this to Anna (who clearly balked at this notion) was to talk about how I was alive before she was born—even before I was pregnant with her. (Context again, we used natural childbirth methods for both girls, and Anna was present for her sister’s birth and so she’s got a clearer grasp of all this than most three year olds).

Anna seemed to understand this comparison, but really, how do any of us “grasp” the world that existed before our presence—even our comprehension of the world around us and our ability to retain memories. It’s the difference between being told by someone of their experience on a zipline and actually DOING it ourselves. It’s not merely a difference in degrees of “getting” the experience.

I talked about God creating all this awesome stuff and us getting be part of it, but not listening to God. A 3 year old definitely understands what it means to be told not to do something but to want to do it (and in fact TO DO it). But this God that created us, always loved us, and even when Adam and Eve faced the consequences of their actions, God still loved them.

Long story short—when we get questions about God, or our faith from our kids, we don’t have to try to grasp onto whatever threads of theology we’ve picked up. We don’t have to try to explain the nature of God in abstract. God’s people have never primarily done so. Let’s cut ourselves a break. And draw our children into the Biblical narrative that has formed God’s people for so many years.

Now the Santa thing…

TELL ME MORE ABOUT SANTA

I suspect there is far more variety of the Santa thing than the above question. Maybe it’s because it’s hard to be “wrong” about it, and we feel more comfortable taking creative license. When we first had Anna, it was very important to me that my husband and I discuss how we were going to handle Santa in our household. My husband was far less concerned about it, confident it would work its way out. The truth was/is probably somewhere in between.

I know some families where the magic of Santa is an entire undertaking. And impressively so.

For me, this issue has three elements:

1.       Not wanting to teach something we have to later “un-teach”

2.       Not wanting (admittedly selfishly so) Anna to miss out on a whole experience other kids have (and one which I’m fairly sure my mom would find a way around anyway, or at least would be very sad about)

3.       I am a pastor. I am one heck of a busy person around Christmas. I ain’t got no time for some of this stuff people do…

My answer to Anna was, “Well, Santa isn’t a regular person. Santa is magical.”

She followed up with a question about Santa and chimneys, to which I referred her to my original statement.

She then seemed concerned to know if Santa sleeps all the time aside from at Christmas. I managed to change the point here (God I can handle on one cup of coffee, Santa, not so much…)

At any rate (and because when I mentioned these questions to Anna’s teachers they were curious about this), Santa is a rather minor figure around our house. Brings a gift or two (we had a good crop of options from our last church where families did lots of different things). We read “The Night Before Christmas,” leave cookies out, and if we happen to get a photo with Santa, so be it. But we also talk about St. Nicholas, and yeah, we do actually try to make Christmas about the birth of Jesus. I just don’t feel the need to sack Santa in order to do so.

As it turns out, your kids will follow your lead on a lot of stuff. Especially at the age ours are now.

That brings me to my last, and really, my major point.

What you tell your kids now is going to be the foundation for what you teach them later. That doesn’t mean you won’t get to update or even correct things. I, for one, lack the memory to try to recall inaccurate stuff I’ve said, so I try to avoid doing that with everyone—so this is both a practical and ethical thing for me personally.

Related, you don’t have to have all the answers. OR, maybe you shouldn’t try to make stuff easy for your kids that still isn’t easy for you to understand.

I hope this is reassuring for you. It is for me.

But again, all of this is context. It’s rooted in how I was taught, how I grew up. For a variety of reasons, yes, perhaps because my father was a pastor and my mother was also quite knowledgeable about the faith, my memory of my own formation in the faith doesn’t recall simplistic answers and in fact revealed to me the complexity of a deep and abiding faith. Also, some crazy stuff happened when I was growing up. It’s hard to give your kids easy answers when crazy stuff happens.

In the end, we all bring up our kids differently. I don’t think you should answer your kids the same way I do mine—in a different context these answers might not work or produce even what I would consider the desired result.

I do think, however, that we should train up our kids ON PURPOSE and striving for a particular goal. I want my girls to be followers of Jesus Christ. I want them to value that relationship and to treasure it for its complex, rich, grace and love-filled awesomeness. I want them to be deeply suspicious of people who try to give simple answers. And I want them to know how to read scripture on their own and in community. So I need to model all these things.

It’s hard to parent on purpose. Some days we cannot. But we probably can more than we think.

So next time your kid asks a hard question, one that makes you both chuckle and shirk at the same time, give yourself a minute or two. Stall, if you have to. Ask them what they mean by their question. And try to give them the answer you actually want them to ponder. Not the one that shuts them up the fastest. And maybe, just maybe, a five minute conversation in the car with your kid will be able to begin to gird them for the journey ahead and to be able to grow in their own faith journeys in ways that decades from now will have set them on the right path.

In the meantime, we all need a lot of prayer (for ourselves and for each other) for this incredibly challenging task of raising up children, and helping them to come to know God. We also need each other--no parent or set of parents (or grandparents, or whoever is primary caregivers for a child) can do this on their own. Thank God for the community of faith.