Regarding Age and Race...

My friend Matt posted this information on the Northern Illinois Conference's e-mail newsletter:

Hard figures on UMC diversity and age

New research from the Lewis Center on Church Leadership reveals two facts about the UMC that have been part of the church's struggle for many years.

1) The median age of clergy continues to rise very quickly: More than half of elders are age 55 or older. In 2000, the midway point was age 50, and in 1973, the median was 43.

2) In a nation where racial diversity is increasing, the membership of the UMC is becoming even more white: 90% in 2008, up from 87% in 1998. During that time, according to 2009 Census Bureau figures, non-Hispanic whites decreased from 69% to 65% of the U.S. population.

What does this mean for our church?

For me the bottom line is that we have the opportunity to live as if the gospel means something in our lives. And I'm not talking about "waiting for the rapture."

Rarely should we come to church to take refuge from the world. Certainly there are instances like community, familial, or personal tragedy that call for refuge-taking. But I believe we come with regularity to be refilled with the active acknowledgement of God's loving presence (through praise and prayer) and to rehearse how we live toward our neighbors and friends and enemies outside of the walls (by exchanging signs of love and commitment).

In the Yamhill and Cornelius churches we say "I see Christ in you," which, like anything we do on a regular basis has the potential to do two things. First it could end up sounding like - and having as much meaning as - the "good game" chorus line that occurs at the end of a little league baseball game. But if we do it with regular intentionality, then it is a beautiful acknowledgement of a divine spark that exists in each one of us.

For the last decades, the Church has focused on seeing Christ as "in the building" and not "out there." And so we have maintained the facilities and programs that fulfill the wants and needs of only existing membership or long-time attenders (or worse, big-money-givers), often reflecting the wants and needs of those folks when they themselves were much younger. The result is a "time machine" kind of effect where one could step inside a church and see a model of church the way it was in the 50's-70's without the vitality that existed then, and certainly without the cultural diversity that exists in our world today.

What this has to do with age and race is this: When we say "I see Christ in you" to the people with whom we worship regularly, we reaffirm that we are creating a hospitable environment together and that we are creating it for one another. We have the opportunity to take that same mantra outside of church, internally echoing "I see Christ in you" to our agnostic young co-worker, to the Guatemalan family who lives across the street, to the impoverished veteran who asks you for money, to the politician whose policies you wish you could change. When we take the next step and see Christ in our neighbors friends and enemies, we are therefore committed to creating a hospitable environment with them and for all of us.

I am reminded of the story of the Yamhill Christian Church. A few years back, the leadership of that church acknowledged that they were not effectively serving their community. The symptoms were similar to those of many mainline denominations: aging and declining membership and decreased vitality in worship and outreach. The senior pastor cast a new vision of being a church for youth and young families. The board of that church took on the vision and decided that the resources of the church should not be tied up both in facility and property maintenance and paying a full-time senior pastor who they could not afford much longer anyway. The senior pastor voluntarily moved to half-time, taking responsibility for pastoral care and administrative guidance. The church took the bold step of loosening up their resources and hired a full time associate pastor whose entire focus would be on youth ministry and worship leadership. They put it all on the line. And here's the kicker. The leadership told the newly hired pastor this: "Don't create worship and programs for us; don't listen to us when we say that the music is too loud or too fast. If what you do brings the growing population of young families and youth to a relationship with Christ, then this church will be fulfilling its vision." And that's exactly what has happened in that church.

I don't tell this story to be prescriptive. Instead, I tell it to illustrate the kind of gutsy risk taking that is required for churches to not only see Christ in its community but to make space for Christ. Truly this is living the gospel as if it were real.

On Sunday, we will be reading the story of Lazarus and the rich man. The rich man lived next to Lazarus for the entirety of their lives, and for that span, he failed to acknowledge Lazarus' presence, choosing instead to wall himself in his mansion. For me, this isn't a story primarily about rich vs. poor, but about being present to neighbors. Even in death, the rich man only wanted Lazarus to serve him, insisting on a one-way relationship that met only his and his family's needs. The wall he had built around himself in life, "protecting" him from his neighbors, stayed with him through eternity. Although its not a story about damnation, the rich man was actually surprised at the life of isolation he had created for himself. When we insist on protecting ourselves from loud, upbeat music; from ideas that challenge our faith; from having to "sit through" a service that is bilingual; from real life problems like poverty, war, food sovereignty, and addictions that intrude our sense of an artificial guaranteed safety; we don't risk anything but walling ourselves outside of the work to which Christ committed his life.

We are invited, instead, to a life of radical companionship that intentionally crosses the lines we have drawn between us. What we risk losing in the process - and we hopefully risk losing everything - is so much worth the reward. When the church and its leadership can do this, I believe that it will reap the rewards of vibrant worship, formational education, transformational outreach, and authentic multi -generational/-ethnic/-cultural community. It takes visionary leadership who are willing to put it all on the line. I pray my colleagues and I are prepared.

Fall Back?

"Come with me. I'll make a new kind of fisherman out of you. I'll show you how to catch men and women instead of perch and bass." They didn't ask questions, but simply dropped their nets and followed." Matthew 4:19 The Message Translation

We aren't about to change the clocks anytime soon, but I have noticed how much earlier the sun seems to be setting than in the summer. Inevitably, I get wistful about the days when the sun didn't seem to set until after we went to bed. "Ah, summer where did you go - and in such a hurry?!" In fact clock-changing doesn't happen until the first Sunday in November, when we will be full-on into fall and harvest mode. But as school has begun and as we enter into a new phase of the church season, we get the sense that we are "falling back" into the rhythm of the year. This can be a good thing. But it can be dangerous, too.

I have to be careful that I don't fall back into habits that move me, my family, or my church in a direction that is unhealthy or irresponsible. This has nothing to do with taking risks, but in fact is quite the opposite. For me, my temptation is not to fall back into the things that guide me, that offer inspiration and hope, and that offer accountability and encouragement; but to fall back into procrastination, avoidance of responsibility, idling the time away, and restricting my "people time"to the ones I already know. These things don't define me--it's just what I have chosen to do when things get busy or unknown. In a sense, I fall back to bad habits, easier tasks, and things that I know. I pray that God will use what's already present within me to do something new and to reach new people in a new way. Notice, in the scripture where Jesus calls the fisherman, that he doesn't say to stop being fisherman. He says that he's going to use those skills already present in them to become fishers of people - that is, to engage more people than they currently were.

For the church, we have to be careful as a group that we collectively fall back into the challenge and considerations for the outsider that Jesus called his disciples toward, and not fall back into what is easiest for us or what is known to us. Otherwise we can no longer be called the church, but we become a social club for people who happen to believe in God. For instance, we always say that we want more young people to come to our worship services, but what are we providing for young people that they would want to step foot into our church on Sundays? Are we creating a worship space that is directed toward speaking the gospel in a way that captivates their attention? Or are we creating a space that is aimed at what those already attending prefer? Or are we even just creating a space out of habit? I am thankful to God for Cornelius expanding their vision through the monthly Community Table food pantry and Supper programs, and that Yamhill has opened up their vision for hospitality in the community, and that both Cornelius and Yamhill are beginning Sunday Schools this year. But I am certain that God is calling us to fall back into the challenge that expands our vision of who our neighbors are, and what we can do, as communities of faith, to be more fully present to our neighbors.

Where is God calling these bodies of Christians to use what's already present within us to engage with people who haven't been sought after yet? Who are those on the fringe always looking in? What else do we have to learn about Christ that moves our community out into our communities? Let us be grounded, falling back in to the challenge of Christ- but let us also recognize where we have chained ourselves, having fallen back into habitual thinking.

Time to Sow

The work of concentrated study and reflection is not for the faint of brain. I am currently at a lectionary-based sermon development retreat called “Time to Sow” at the Alton L. Collins Retreat center in Eagle Creek, Oregon with 12 other United Methodist pastors. Over the past day (and, beginning at 1:30 - for the next hour or so) we have been reading through the gospel text for each week in the year and writing our personal reflections of what happened in them. Then, after a particular season, we have a group discussion about patterns that we saw, problems that arise in us, ways to connect the gospel story to what's happening in our churches, among a myriad of other conversations. All present are having the experience of having our minds swimming (drowning?) in story by this point.

My hope is not that we will have all our sermons written and prepared by the end of the week (we adjourn on Friday). Instead, the hope is that, by the end of the week we will have a road map with a pretty clear idea of what text we will be preaching on, possible sermon series that reveal themselves through all the readings in scripture, and ideas for making the seasons a more connecting moment for people with their God and their place in God's kingdom.

The Lord knows that I am not always the most organized person. In fact, “most-organized” is an award I have never won, and there remain a very few solid and proud moments in my life when I was so organized that I arrived with little to tie together in terms of preparation. When that did happen, it kind of threw me off-guard. I admit that I feel more comfortable in the chaos. Which has its strengths, too. I tend not to get frazzled, for one thing, when, in the words of Rev. Wright, “the feces hit the quickly-rotating metal blades.” However, living in the chaos prevents me from walking the pathway that I know is set before our churches – by whom I am called to be “leader.”

This week is a way for us to see the scripture in contexts of other scripture, the history, our churches, and the year. AND, for some of us, to be malleable enough to let the Spirit mold us into a more complete image of leader.

Where were you...

We play the "where were you..." game with significant events in our lives.

• I was at my friend Tim's house on a snow day from school (2nd grade) when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded, witnessing the event on live TV;
• I was at a friend's house dance party when I experienced my first kiss in middle school;
• (non sports fans can skip this one!) I was at Dottie and John's place in Evanston in 1984 when the Chicago Cubs blew a 2 games to nothing lead and a 3-0 lead in the final game of that best-of-5 series that would have allowed them to go to the World Series (a similar scenario repeated in 2003).
• I was at my aunt and uncle's house in Harlan, Iowa on my way to seminary when the events on September 11, 2001 unfolded.

The "where were you..." game is possible because all the events of that day were so world-changing for us as individuals that every detail, including who we were with, what we were wearing, what we ate, what we did, is etched into our long term memory. When we say, "we will never forget" regarding those events from nine years ago, it is a given--the magnitude of what happened means that we can't forget even if we wanted to.

There are two things that I consider with special attention on this day.

First, there are places in our world where violence is a relatively normal occurrence. Ask someone from the Sudan or from Afghanistan "Where were you when your country was ravaged by war?" would be a recounting of their daily lives for the past seven and 32 years, respectively. Not that we should discount the events of this day by any stretch, but that we should be cognizant of those for whom this kind of destruction within their borders is all too commonplace.

The second consideration is this. Tomorrow I will be talking at church about how Jeremiah warns of endless cycles of disaster after disaster and that Jesus calls us to be "cycle breakers." The wake of the Sept 11, 2001 seems to have brought with it a seemingly endless cycle of violence in our world. However, those events were themselves a part of a cycle of violence that is preceeded as far back as we can collectively remember; marked both by countless "where were you..." moments and behind-the-scenes economic violence that can hardly be remembered by anyone. The leaders of our world have fooled themselves into believing we can "war ourselves into peace." But the truly sad part is that too often, people of faith, particularly a Christian faith that has its foundations on the radical compassion and forgiveness of Christ himself, are complacent to forget those foundations. Or worse, we re-mold our foundations to fit into the continuation of violence.

My prayer is this: that I could look back on a particular yet-to-happen moment in the life of the collective church as one of these "where were you..." moments--the moment when people of faith collectively remembered whose we are; that we will have collectively loved ourselves enough to see that God can work even through our broken selves; and we collectively will have loved our neighbors, no matter what they had done, who are worthy of radical forgiveness and compassion. There is nothing impossible about this. We can be cycle breakers. But only if we are bold enough to remember.

Welcome to the Century!

It is odd that, for someone who seems to have embraced so much of what technology has to offer, I have not, to this point, jumped headfirst into all the communications methods that our world has to offer. Really, it is time. Many are familiar with our family blog, which Mira wonderfully maintains, called "Life of Miric" and her ministry blog called, "Historias de Transformacion," which details and documents her work in developing multicultural relationships in Western Washington County. She has inspired me to get on board fully with this thing called the "World Wide Web."

My long time family nickname is Goose, hence the cute name.

The purpose of my blog is to be a conversation starter--to provide food for thought regarding various theological, social, moral, and political issues of our day. Perhaps you will agree with my opinions - perhaps you won't! Much as I would sometimes like to believe otherwise, my opinions do not define me, nor do I believe that yours define you. So, my hope is that you will feel free to share your own views and reflections in the comments, which will be monitored and approved by me, as it is my blog. This is to ensure a level of appropriateness, as I aim to make this site available to all ages. Much of my sharing will be observational in nature, but occasionally, I will dive into deeper subjects, so fasten those seatbelts! By the way, while I am a married United Methodist Pastor, my opinions don't necessarily reflect the opinions of the Cornelius or Yamhill United Methodist Churches, of the United Methodist Church, of Mira, or of my extended family.