A Question About Kids and Communion

Recently, I've faced a question at church about children and communion.  We had some issues where young kids (about 5 years old) wanted to take part in communion.  The mother talked about how this little one really wanted to take part in communion.

In the Disciples of Christ, kids usually get baptized around age 11 or 12 and usually then participates in communion.  But these days, kids really want to participate sooner and many people think it's important to not exclude kids from communion, even if they have not been baptized yet.

For me, this is an issue that I struggle with.  On the one hand, I hear the  pleading voice of children who want to be included and how could I not?  On the other hand, I grew up (in my Baptist upbringing) learning that one had to wait until baptism to take part in communion.

Historically, people did not have communion until they were baptized usually during Easter vigil. Of course, just because it was done in the past, doesn't mean we should do it today.

So, I want to ask a question: what are the theological reasons for including kids, regardless of age or being baptized, in the Lord's Supper?  Also, was the older way of waiting until a certain age just about people hating children or was there a reason for it?  Has something changed or have we just become more enlightened?

I would lean towards including kids, but I want a reason that's more than "let's be inclusive."  Inclusivity is important, but I want to know why we should do this.

Sunday Sermon: February 27, 2011

“Seeking God in a Shattered World”
Matthew 6:24-34; Isaiah 49:8-16
February 27, 2011
First Christian Church
Minneapolis, MN


This was one of those weeks that no body told me about when I was in seminary.



If you have not heard, the church building was hit twice this week by vandalism on Monday and then again on Wednesday. Someone decided to throw some bricks in the windows in the Fellowship Hall. As many of you know, these aren’t the only two acts of vandalism that have taken place recently. Since the beginning of the year, I’ve counted six incidents. It started with someone spray painting the words, “No God!” on our church sign on First Avenue. Then we started getting the broken windows.



I have to hand to Max Hurlocker, the Property Chair and our Office Manager Chris Wogaman, who were busy making calls to repair the windows, call the police and our landlord, the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. Since Bob was out of town, I stepped in to do…well not a whole lot, but to at least provide a listening ear. As I sat in on a meeting on Tuesday with representatives from the Institute and the alarm company I could hear some the questions coming from our members. They all boiled down to one simple question: why? Why was someone targeting us? What did we do to deserve this?



Having someone vandalize your property once is bad enough, but then it happens twice in the space of 48 hours, it can be downright unsettling and produce a lot of worry. You don’t feel secure anymore. You wonder if it will happen again or if it will get worse.



It’s funny that this is all taking place as the Lectionary texts deal with Jesus’ Sermon the Mount. Last week we hear the call to love our enemies and this week Jesus tells his followers not to worry.



I’ve heard people say that the Sermon on the Mount is basically a guide to living an ethical life. But if Jesus was trying to make a living as a self-help guru, then this is an epic fail. Jesus is asking us to do the impossible. Love some jerk who throws a brick into our building? Really? Don’t worry about things?



Right.



The Sermon on the Mount is impossible to follow. The fact is, we will fail in trying to live by it. And yet, here it is, here Jesus is, calling for us to not worry about what we are going to eat or what we are going to wear.



If it seems odd to hear this in the aftermath of vandalism, it’s even harder to hear it in this current economy, where people worry constantly about keeping their homes and their jobs. Jesus tells us not to serve God and money, but let’s face it: we worry about our finances. We have debts and mortgages and bills to pay and we wonder if we will always be able to pay them.



We could just ignore this passage and go on with our lives, and in many ways we do that anyway. How many times have we heard this passage and just move on? It’s a nice saying, but it has no bearing on reality.



But we can’t ignore this passage. It does speak to us, even as it calls us to do the impossible. Jesus calls us to trust that God will take care of the details. As the old Stevie Wonder song goes, “Don’t You Worry ‘Bout a Thing.” Matthew 6:33 says, “seek first the kingdom of God.” Some versions use the word “strive” instead of “seek.”

Either way, we are being asked to try to strive to live as God calls us to live in this world. The Sermon on the Mount is a step-by-step guide on how to live a good life, but it is a way , a rule of life, of how the followers Jesus should live. We are following a high calling from God to be a peculiar people in the world even though we will fall short time and time again.



I don’t blame people for worrying about all the vandalism. That’s a natural response. It also makes sense to do what you can to prevent from happening again. I think we are always going to worry about things.



The concern is when our worry about things gets in the way of striving to be God’s people. A broken window should not deter us from reaching out to our neighbors. It should not prevent us from giving out bus cards to those who are homeless or poor. It should not stop us from feeding the poor or finding ways to shelter those without homes. Despite the worry, we seek to be a faithful community that shares God’s love in word and in deed.



You all know that I’m a bivocational pastor. I work as the Communication Director for the Presbytery of the Twin Cities Area. This week, I was asked to take pictures for an open house at Kwanzaa Presbyterian Church, which is located in North Minneapolis. As the name suggests, it’s an African American congregation. One of the co-pastors there is Alika Galloway, and she took about an hour to talk about all the various ministries going on at the church and there is a lot. There is an after-school program that provides a lot number of African American kids who live in poverty and meal and a stable place to learn and play. There is also a program called Northside Women’s Space which is done in conjuction with a researcher from the University of Minnesota. The Women’s Space simply offers a refuge for women who work in the sex trade. Many of these women live chaotic lives where they face abuse from pimps and johns. This space, housed in one of the congregation’s buildings gives these women a place just to be and even give them some help.



All of this takes place in a part of town that is not the safest. I would guess there is a lot of worry that takes place at Kwanzaa. But yet, they seem to strive for God’s kingdom, feeding those who are hungry and giving hope to the outcast.



As I was getting ready to head to the church, I had to make a phone call to the congregation. I got their voice mail and heard Alika’s voice. Towards the end of the recorded voicemail message Alika said “It’s True, it’s true, it’s true. God loves you, God loves you, God loves you.”



That’s a message that people in North Minneapolis need to hear, especially if they live in poverty and feel that no one cares for them. They need to know that someone cares for them, and as the passage says today, if God cares for the lilies and birds, God cares for these folks. Kwanzaa makes sure that the residents of North Minneapolis know that by saying it and doing it.



It’s also a message for us. In the midst of our own worries and struggles remember that “it’s true, it’s true, it’s true. God love us, God love us, God love us.” Thanks be to God. Amen.

Thoughts on "Being Human"

It's been a long time since I've really followed a scripted television series. Most folks I know have raved about shows like Glee, Lost and Battlestar Galactica, but none of those have really held my attention. Over the last few years, I've basically stuck to HGTV and reality shows like Top Chef.

But I now love to get in front of the TV on Mondays to watch "Being Human" on SyFy. This is actually the American version of a British series that's been on since 2009. The premise in both series is that a vampire, werewolf and ghost live together and try to be...well, human.

I really have enjoyed the episodes as each tries to deal with what they are and also try to hold to some humanity.  They all face temptations to give into their darker sides which is what gives the series its edge.

I've always had a fascination with werewolves (and wolves in general) so the character I've had the most interest in is Josh (George in the British version) the geeky "Jewish kid from Ithaca" who leaves everything behind once he becomes a werewolf.  He's basically the heart of the threesome and an emotional mix of every emotion.  He's fun to watch as he tries so hard to fit in.

In some way, the series is an allegory to me of trying to fit in and make the best of what life hands you.  In being both gay and being autistic, I've had to find ways to learn to accept myself and find ways to fit in, so I connect with the three as they try to just live.

It's a great show in both versions.

The Social Network

Via Scott McKnight, I came upon this blog post by Richard Beck about how Facebook is killing the church. Yes, you heard me: Facebook is killing the church.

The difference between Generations X and Y isn't in their views of the church. It's about those cellphones. It's about relationships and connectivity. Most Gen X'ers didn't have cell phones, text messaging or Facebook. These things were creeping in during their college years but the explosive onset of mobile devices and social computing had yet to truly take off.

So why has mobile social computing affected church attendance? Well, if church has always been kind of lame and irritating why did people go in the first place? Easy, social relationships. Church has always been about social affiliation. You met your friends, discussed your week, talked football, shared information about good schools, talked local politics, got the scoop, and made social plans ("Let's get together for dinner this week!"). Even if you hated church you could feel lonely without it. Particularly with the loss of "third places" in America.

But Millennials are in a different social situation. They don't need physical locations for social affiliation. They can make dinner plans via text, cell phone call or Facebook. In short, the thing that kept young people going to church, despite their irritations, has been effectively replaced. You don't need to go to church to stay connected or in touch. You have an iPhone.

Sure, Millennials will report that the "reason" they are leaving the church is due to its perceived hypocrisy or shallowness. My argument is that while this might be the proximate cause the more distal cause is social computing. Already connected Millennials have the luxury to kick the church to the curb. This is the position of strength that other generations did not have. We fussed about the church but, at the end of the day, you went to stay connected. For us, church was Facebook!

I think this post exposes one of the weaknesses of the modern-day church, and reminds us what church is all about. Churches are of course made up of humans, so they are social communities, places where people connect with one another. Friendships are made at church. People find their future husband or wife at church.

The problem isn't that churches are social communities; the problem is when that's all they are. In the heyday of mainline churches, congregations could get away with being a religious Elks Club. But what happens when new communal spaces like Facebook come around? Well, people don't need to go to a church to meet other people when they can do that on Facebook or Twitter or someplace else.

Churches have to be places where we can connect with each other, but also remind us of the holy. They have to be places where we are formed into the likeness of Christ. Yes, they need to be places of social connection, but that can't be the main thing anymore. It never was supposed to be.

This Is Our Hope

First Christian had its annual Anniversary Dinner yesterday, celebrating 134 years of ministry.  I decided to make a video outlining what missions and ministries took place in the last year at church.  Below is the result.

The Possibilities of a Disability

A few days ago, a fellow pastor asked me if I wanted be a senior pastor.  When I first heard it, I was a bit taken aback.  Ever since I had my diagnosis of Aspergers, I had decided that maybe being a solo or even senior pastor was out of the questions.  I knew that they way my brain worked and some past experiences made me think that I could never be a the only pastor at a church.  Indeed, someone in small group who also has Aspergers wondered aloud how I could be a pastor at all.

But now I'm starting to wonder if maybe I have limited myself too quickly.  Maybe I could be a solo pastor somewhere.

What has me thinking differently is this video by John Elder Robison for his second book, Be Different.  I enjoyed his first book, Look Me In the Eye, so I'm really looking forward to this new one.  The main point of his trailer is that even though those of us who are autistic might have roadblocks in our lives, we shouldn't sell ourselves short.  There is a lot that we can do, it's just that we do it differently.


Since my diagnosis, I've focused on my limits. In some ways, this is a good thing to point: I mean, you need to realize that you aren't going to be good at everything.

But the thing is, I still can be a pastor and a damn good one at that- it's just that I tend to do things a bit differently than other pastors.

What's so good about being a pastor who has trouble with executive function or social skills?  Well, it's still a question I'm trying to answer, but I think that my time at First has taught me I can do a hell of a lot.  I've been able to use my creativity to the benefit of the wider community.  I've learned how to be able to simply let people talk ( for some reason, people like to talk to pastors).  I've also just learned how to be able to engage in small talk.  I also think I'm able to see ideas no one else can see. 

I could say that my time at First has helped me become more "human," but I would like to think that I've also helped others at the church get in touch with their humanity as well.

Of course from the standpoint of faith, I am reminded that God constantly used people who on the outside didn't seem up to the job.  Moses supposedly had a speech problem and still led his people out of Egypt.  Gideon was a scaredy cat and led an army that defeated an enemy exponentially bigger than his army, the disciples of Jesus included people who weren't very smart and yet they were the ones that established the church. 

I've known all this for years, but I haven't yet let it sink into me.  Partly its because of my history, where I was always making mistakes and running around like a bull in a china shop.  I allowed myself to think I wasn't of any value, that I was a bit of a mess.

And I still am a bit of a mess, but I'm getting better.  I know I have skills and talents.  My autism can be a gift, it can be something that is an asset and not simply a demerit.

I'm still on a journey to learn about the gifts of an autistic pastor.  I don't have all the answers, but let's just say I'm a lot more open these days to a future solo pastorate than I was even a week ago.

Notes from a Reluctant Liberal Christian

A few years ago, a dear friend of mine described me as an evangelical turned liberal Protestant.  I remember blanching at that definition.  Politically, I tend to lean more center-right/libertarian.  Theologically, I'm pretty orthodox.

But the fact is, I am a liberal Protestant these days.  I'm ordained into a mainline Protestant denomination (Disciples of Christ) and I have standing in another denomination that in some cases is the very embodiment of liberal Protestantism (the United Church of Christ).

I've been a part of mainline Protestantism for nearly 20 years.  In the years after college, I found the evangelicalism of my youth wanting and left it seeking a better fit.  I found that in mainline churches.  I should add, that I never looked down on evangelical past; I think it is still a worthy tradition and it made me who I am.  But, my home is now in a different tradition.

And yet it has at times been an uneasy fit.  Don't get me wrong; I am thankful for a tradition that honors diversity.  My evangelical roots would never accept an open gay pastor, but liberal Protestantism did.  It has also been on the forefront of issues such as civil rights and helped give women a more equal footing in America.

But while in many ways, I am liberal in my theology, I feel at times that the liberalism I am talking about is from another era.  Some of my uneasiness is reflected in Bruce Reyes-Chow's excellent essay on the good and bad liberal Christianity.  Unlike me, he is way more comfortable wearing the liberal label, but he also able to be critical of it:

Over the past few months I have found myself frustrated a lot.  Sitting on the sidelines observing a few interactions between Christians with whom I find theological and ideological commonality, I've found myself whispering under my breath, "I love ya. I agree with ya. But you are really not helping." It seems that in an attempt to respond to actions and words that we liberals feel are wrong, even destructive, we often do more harm than good.

Now I realize that for me to make such broad sweeping statements is pretty arrogant and I fully admit my participation in most of the following accusations in my life. But let me be equally arrogant in saying that if the liberal or progressive church - and we can fight over "liberal," "progressive," etc. definitions HERE - is going to lead the way forward in the church and be part of a larger cultural conversation about morals and faith, we have got to quit shooting ourselves in the proverbial foot and driving people away from our particular approach to faith and life.

His post reads as a love letter to his fellow liberals, telling them to do good work, but also calling them on where they fall short.

On the other hand, Walter Russell Mead's essay from last year reads like a letter from a longsuffering wife to her cheating husband.  He rails against liberal Christianity's willingness to get in bed with the political left at the expense of the life of the church:

In the mainline churches, which is what I know best, the political views leaders express are generally those of what could be called the ‘foundation left’ — emotionally grounded in concern for the poor and development, historically linked to the ‘new left’ mix of economic and social concerns as developed in the 1960′s, shaped by an atmosphere of privilege and entitlement that reflects the upper middle class background of the educated professionals who run these institutions.  The social sins they deplore are those of the right: excessive focus on capitalism, too robust and unheeding a promotion of the American national and security interest abroad, insufficient care for the environment, failure to help the poor through government welfare programs, failure to support affirmative action, failure to celebrate and protect the unrestricted right of women to abort.  I am of course speaking very generally here and there are lots of individual exceptions, but many of these folks are generally tolerant of theological differences and rigidly intolerant when it comes to political differences: they care nothing at all about doctrines like predestination but get very angry with people who disagree with them about issues like global warming or immigration reform.  Theological heresy is a matter for courtesy and silence, but political heretics fill them with bile.

Back in the days of the civil rights movement and the Vietnam war, it was news when Episcopal bishops sided in public with liberal causes.  It took real courage for bishops and priests to speak up in some cases; one of the clergymen in the town where I grew up had been driven from his last parish in Alabama because he spoke up for the Montgomery bus boycott led by Martin Luther King.  Other priests received death threats; some who participated in the Freedom Rides and other demonstrations were beaten by angry mobs.

But these days an Episcopal bishop would have to go to a lot of trouble to get into the news for backing a liberal political cause.  The headline says it all: Liberal Official of Small, Declining Liberal Denomination Endorses Liberal Idea.  This isn’t news for two reasons: it is utterly predictable and it doesn’t matter.  Trivial and predictable are not news, and the political stands that the mainline clergy take are almost always both.  A statement by an Episcopal bishop will not change one mind or one vote; at least in all my years in the pews I’ve never met a single Episcopalian who said that the opinion of a bishop does or should have the slightest influence on how Episcopalians vote and if the churchgoers aren’t paying attention to the bishops I can’t imagine anyone else is.

I’m not urging the bishops to change their politics.  I’m urging them to shut up.  More precisely, I’m urging them to base their ministry on a clearer understanding of their situation and their role.

It's important to note that both Reyes-Chow and Mead are liberal Christians from mainline Protestant denominations.  Both talk about the decline of the mainline church.  But where Reyes-Chow has a more sunny and hopeful view, Mead is far more dire- his post is fire and brimstone.

In many ways, I feel that I have both views living inside of me.  There are days that I am more like Reyes-Chow, wanting to gently admonish people who I consider my friends, and there are days I want to rip them a new hole.

I would agree with Mead that liberal Christianity has become too chumy with the political left.  I've long agreed that American evangelicalism sold itself out to the GOP, but it didn't take me long to figure out that mainline Christians had done the same with the Democrats.  What's frustrating at times is to see Christians have mirrored the larger world: Team Red on one side and Team Blue on the other.

I'm not asking that liberal Christians who are politically liberal change their ideology, but could we not try to ape the larger society?  Can  we be willing to critical of the political left as we are of the political right?  Can we worry less about getting people to support this viewpoint and give people the tools to think as Christians in the world, influencing culture in different ways? Can we find a way to separate partisan politics from faith? Can the church be follwers of Jesus and not try to make Jesus the mascot of either party?

I guess what I'm asking is that we find ways to talk about justice without it devolving into some kind of pep-rally for this or that political party.  When I work on issues like homelessness or poverty, I want to help people think of how they can put their faith to work, not to tell them to support an agenda. 

Blogger Nathan Gilmour had this to say about justice, the political left and right in a commentary on last Sunday's texts:

...far too often any old cause of the New Left gets baptized in the name of being not-fundamentalist, and far too little inspection and criticism happens, especially when libertarian/capitalist categories of “choice” and “rights” rather than Christian practices like hospitality and thankfulness govern Christian discourse about “issues.” The univocality of Being once again threatens what I take to be genuine Christian reflection in these circles as well: throwing one’s time, effort, money, and sometimes more behind the DNC (just as much as the GOP) machine far too often requires participation in the Manichean machinery of American political discourse, and  such participation far too often loses sight of the common lot of mortals in light of the strong analogical difference between God and humanity.  (And there are few more dishonest moments than when a dedicated New-Left Democrat says that “this is not a left-right issue”: if I had money to gamble, I would bet every time that the next line out of the New-Left Democrat’s mouth is going to be party-line social liberalism.)  Not unlike the Right-Wingers that the Christian Left (rightly) holds in suspicion, the stance in favor of some kinds of Social Justice tends towards a strong division: contract-enforcement for one’s political enemies and seeking-for-shalom for one’s political friends.  The urge is neither inhuman nor unexpected, but it’s not all that different from its mirror image.  The hesed and the mishphat that Micah points to in this week’s reading call everyone to account and to repentance, not in the spirit of some flattened “moral equivalence” but in the realization that, when seen in the light of analogically different divine justice and kindness, no mortal’s sense of the good life should remain un-illuminated.  Perhaps the best place to start is indeed to walk humbly.

Walking humbly.  It sounds like a good start for all of us.

The Autistic's Guide to Grooming

This might seem like rather odd advice to give to person- after all it's something that most kids learn at an early age. But for someone who might be autistic, this might not occur to them at all.

I've always been good when it comes to grooming- especially when it comes to taking a bath or brushing my teeth. But I do remember that after I grew a goatee, it took me a while to realize that I had to keep it neat and trim.   Walking around with a scraggly goatee probably didn't help me on the job front way back when.

None of this is to say that anyone with autism has a problem with grooming, but is something to know about.

Stop Making Sense

The fallout from the shooting of US Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords and 12 others on Saturday has been both fascinating and frustrating to watch.

It's been fascinating because the gun barrels had yet to grow cold when people starting pointing fingers and assigning blame. It's frustrating because we seem to be more interested in blame than in stopping for a moment and simply mourning the loss of life.

Since Saturday, everyone has been trying to offer some explaination about what happened. The one issue that keeps coming up again and again is the tone of political rhetoric in our daily disc0urse. The more nakedly partisan among us dig up maps used by Sarah Palin and point to the former governor and the larger conservative movement as the problem. The less partisan bring up calls for more civility. More than one fellow pastor has called for our political speech to be more charitable.

All of the folks in question swear up and down that such speech is not what killed six people and injured 13 others, but in reality, that is exactly what they are saying. They are saying inflamed speech, such as the use of crosshairs on an ad by a certain former Alsakan governor, is what lead to the massacre in Tuscon.

But the reality is, we really don't know why Jared Loughner decided to open fire at a Safeway. We have a lot of odd writings that don't seem to make sense. On Saturday, James Fallows admitted that many an assasin has shot someone for motives that really had nothing to do with anything:

- Leo Ryan, the first (and, we hope, still the only) Representative to be killed in the line of duty, was gunned down in Guyana in 1978 for an investigation of the Jim Jones/Jonestown cult, not any "normal" political issue.

- Sirhan Sirhan horribly transformed American politics by killing Robert F. Kennedy in 1968, but Sirhan's political causes had little or nothing to do with what RFK stood for to most Americans.

- So too with Arthur Bremer, who tried to kill George C. Wallace in 1972 and left him paralyzed.

- The only known reason for John Hinckley's shooting of Ronald Reagan involves Jodie Foster.

- It's not often remembered now, but Manson family member Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme tried to shoot Gerald Ford, again for reasons that would mean nothing to most Americans of that time.

- When Harry Truman was shot at (and a policeman was killed) on the sidewalk outside the White Blair House, the attackers were concerned not about Cold War policies or Truman's strategy in Korea but about Puerto Rican independence.

- The assassinations of William McKinley and James Garfield were also "political" but not in a way that matched the main politics of that time. The list could go on.

And Ross Douthat's Monday column shows that the assisnation of John F. Kennedy was not due to the anti-Democratic climate in Dallas at the time:

When John F. Kennedy visited Dallas in November of 1963, Texas was awash in right-wing anger — over perceived cold-war betrayals, over desegregation, over the perfidies of liberalism in general. Adlai Stevenson, then ambassador to the U.N., had been spit on during his visit to the city earlier that fall. The week of Kennedy’s arrival, leaflets circulated in Dallas bearing the president’s photograph and the words “Wanted For Treason.”

But Lee Harvey Oswald was not a right-winger, not a John Bircher, not a segregationist. Instead, he was a Marxist of sorts (albeit one disillusioned by his experiences in Soviet Russia), an activist on behalf of Castro’s Cuba, and a man whose previous plot had been aimed at a far-right ex-general named Edwin Walker. The anti-Kennedy excesses of Texas conservatives were real enough, but the president’s assassin acted on a far more obscure set of motivations.

I think part of the reason there has been all this talk about cooling our political speech is because we want to find some answer for this tragedy. We want to make sense of the horror. What better way to make sense of this all than to pin the blame on something or someone else?

But can we really blame it on inflammatory speech? Crosshairs aside, was anybody really calling for the assasination of Representative Giffords? And if the culprit is speech, then how in the world do you "cool down" down the rhetoric? Is this simply a moral problem that can be solved by faith communities or is it something that requires the state to take part?

People are trying hard to find a way to pin a villian, usually a villian that people already don't like. It makes this horror easier to understand to our anxious hearts. But I think the awesome reality is that we don't understand what is going on. We want to, but we don't. There is no easy answer to this situation.

And that scares us. Because if there is no easy answer, then it means that life can be random, that sometimes things happen for no discernable reason. We want there to be an easy reason for endangering the life of a public servant and for killing a nine-year-old whose only crime was going to this event to learn more about government.

There is no real way to make sense of this tragedy and I wish others would stop trying to do so.

What I wish we would do is what Daniel Hernandez did. Hernandez is an intern at Giffords' office and after the Congresswoman was shot on Saturday, he stayed by her side and applied bandages to her wounds. Many people think he might have saved her life.

Instead of pontificating and seeking easy answers, I think we need to simply stand by the side of the hurting. As blogger Michael Kruse says, we need to be able to grieve and comfort those who mourn.

The book of Job is a biblical account of a man who goes through immense suffering. He loses everything- including his children and is visited by his three friends. Later on, the three friends try to offer reasons for Job's sufferings, which were never much helpful. At the beginning, though, they met with Job and just sat with him.

Sometimes, in times of tragedy, nothing needs to be said. We just need to sit, mourn and pray for those lost. We don't have to make sense of everything.

Crossposted at Big Tent Revue

Growing Up and Letting Go

A friend from high school said something on Facebook recently, that really stuck with me.  The friend pulled an all-nighter, not partying, but chatting and commented that at 41 he wasn't spry as he once was.

Being the same age, I could totally agree with him.  I can't do the same things I used to do when I was 21, and in some cases, I don't want to.  Once you hit your 40s, you start to realize you aren't young anymore.  It might sound odd, but I feel more of an adult now than I did when I turned 21. 

Knowing your age is important.  Ageing means accepting limits and being open to new possibilities because of those limits. 

Which has led me to think about Brett Farve.  Farve is just a few weeks younger than me and we all know, he is ending his long football career...we think.  Farve was supposed to have retired two years ago, and then came back, retired again and then came back again.  I don't know what is it about Farve that he wants to remain in football, when his body is telling him its time to give it up.  What I do know is that it's pretty sad to see a guy trying to hold on his youth, even though his youth left him long ago.

Lane Wallace has written a wonderful essay on Farve and letting go in the Atlantic. (I guess I wasn't the only one thinking about this.) She writes:

...pursuing something you're so passionate about that you not only excel at it but feel it was something you were born to do makes that activity far more central to both your life and your identity. So what do you do when you edge closer to Father Time than the possibility-filled infant year? When enough years pass that the top of the bell curve slips through your grasp and you find yourself sliding down the far side? When you're past your prime, or not physically or mentally able to do or be what people recognized you for anymore? Who are you, then?


The entertainer and comedian Carol Burnett once said she ended her variety show while it was still getting high ratings—a show that gave her a level of fame and success she never again equalled—because she wanted to exit before the hostess started turning out the lights and asking her to leave. If only Elvis could have had that strength and self-control!

In the church, I've been aware of pastors who stayed in the pulpit way past their time and I know the damage that can do to a congregation. The fear is that when the last sermon is given, they will lose their identity. 

Which is what I think Farve is dealing with right now.  He is known as a great quarterback and if he leaves the stage, what will he be then?

Of course, one can be a lot of things, as Wallace notes in her essay.  But it's hard to see that when you're wrapped up in living in your glory days.

So yeah, I'm not a spring chicken anymore.  If I'm not in the "man of a certain age" territory, I'm damn close.  And that's okay.  I still have a future ahead of me and I'm looking forward to see what I will do...when I "grow up."

Where Dennis Tries to Write A Bible Study

For the last few months, I've been leading a Bible Study at church where we did an overview of the Gospels.  I used some material from the Thoughtful Christian and I think the study went over well.  In looking for what to do next, I stumbled upon a curriculum called Joining the Story on Discipleshare, an open-source Christian Education resource that contains materials written by Disciples of Christ pastors and lay leaders.  Joining the Story was written by Lee Yates, a Disciples pastor in Kentucky. It's written to provide some Bible literacy to youth.  While I'm all for that, I wanted to make it accessible to adults, so I got this fool idea to adapt Joining the Story to adults.

Now, you have to understand a few things.  I have this love/hate relationship with Christian Education.  I'm fascinated by it and want to learn more, but I don't consider myself a teacher and feel like a poor Biblical scholar at best.  That's always made me hesitant to teach, even though people think I do a good job. 

So, I decided to try to adapt this study.  Some of it includes Lee's words (I did ask for permission).  I don't know if I will do a good job, but if you want to see what I'm doing, I've set up a blog where I am writing the curriculum (I'm taking a page from Landon Whitsitt's idea of writing a book online). Take a look a please feel free to let me know what I should add (or detract). 

I look forward to you all joining me on this odd journey.  God help me.  Really.  I mean, what the hell am I getting myself into?

Aspergers and the DSM

National Public Radio had a story yesterday about the upcoming changes to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual or DSM, which will come out with a new edition in a few years.  The DSM is basically the bible of psychiatry, so whatever gets into the DSM makes a big impact in the wider society.

Back in 1994, when the DSM was last updated, Aspergers was added.  I think for people like myself who stumbled around for years wondering what was wrong with them, adding Aspergers to the DSM was a godsend.  However, some don't think it was a good idea. 

In a small condo on the beach in San Diego lives Allen Frances, who blames himself for what he calls the "Epidemic of Asperger's." Frances edited the last edition of the DSM, and he's also the new DSM's most prominent critic.

Frances is the one who put the word Asperger's in the DSM in the first place, thereby making it an official mental disorder.

In the editions before Frances was editor, there was an entry for autism, but it was defined by severe symptoms. Frances says doctors felt the diagnosis for autism didn't cover a more mild disorder they were actually encountering.

"Pediatricians and child psychiatrists would see kids who could talk but who had social discomfort — severe social discomfort — and awkwardness and a very restricted and impairing level of interests and activities, and they wanted a diagnosis for this," Frances says.

A study was done to figure out how common Asperger's was, and the results were clear: It was vanishingly rare. Then Frances put it in the DSM, and the number of kids diagnosed with the disorder exploded. Frances remembers sitting in his condo reading articles about this new epidemic of Asperger's that was sweeping the nation.

Frances then talks about how schools have created an incentive to allow kids that might be a bit eccentric the chance to have one-on-one learning instead of being mainstreamed.


A few thoughts:

My mother told me shortly after I got my diagnosis that she had asked doctors on more than one occasion if something was going on behaviorally.  The doctors all assured her things were okay, and to some extent, they were.  But this was also the 1970s and early 80s and if anyone knew about autism, it was about the more severe Kanner's Autism.  I was a kid who could talk pretty early and the only issue was that I was a bit odd.  That didn't fit what was the definition of autism back then.

Moving to the present, I can say that it has been incredibly helpful to know what I'm dealing with.  For years, I bounced from job to job doing things that would enrage my associates and not knowing why.  I would try certain jobs that just were a disaster.  After ordination, I would do things that would upset people and not even know I was doing something to piss people off until it was too late.

The thing is, having a diagnosis has allowed me to see what I can do, what I can't do, and what things I need to learn and overcome.  I don't have to stumble around in the dark anymore thinking that I'm a terrible person.

Has the diagnosis been overused?  I don't know.  But we've also seen a spike in people getting diabetes and we aren't suggesting those diagnoses are overused.

Maybe there are problems when a new illness enters the DSM, but I think I'd rather err on the side of doing too much instead of too little.  The costs of diagnosing someone with Aspergers might be high, but the cost of not doing anything results in loss productivity, stress, depression and other problems. 

My life has been changed for the better because I got a diagnosis of Aspergers.  It would be nice if Dr. Frances saw that.

Come and Visit My Church

A few years ago, I got a call from someone who wanted to visit Community of Grace, the church start that I did a few years ago.  The person wanted to know about the church and it seemed they were interested in benig part of a church with a big choir and all that.  Well, we didn't have all that.  At best, we were a bunch of folks who came together to worship God.  The person didn't sound pleased, and hung up right away.

Part of being a pastor is trying to create relationships that hopefully will bring people into the doors of a church or gathered community.  I've been fascinated to see how Steve and Rebecca Haney who are leading a new Disciples church plant in Rochester, Minnesota are growing their community.  Steve has told me about how he has gone to various community meetings to strike up conversations that then lead at some point to faith. 

I look on all that with envy, because it's not something I can do.  I've said this time and time again, but being autistic makes the kind of social engagement that Steve does very hard for me.  I don't want to give the impression that I'm blaming Asperger's for everything, I'm just stating what I know.  But I don't think it's impossible for someone with Aspergers to be able to talk about their faith: it's just harder.

But this all means trying to learn the artform of talking and sharing that seems so foreign to me.  What I'm good at is sharing information, which is what I do for a living.  But sharing information and sharing your life with someone are two different things.  I think I'm learning to share my life with others, but it's still an uphill climb.

This all leads to inviting someone to come to First Christian in Minneapolis.  Again, I'm not good at the art of persuasion, just sharing information.  But I think I can use my information, my observations to paint a story on why this church is special, so here goes.

First Christian is not a big church.  We are a small church of about 100-120 members.  We were a big church a long time ago, but people left and the church has grown smaller.  So, we aren't the big, downtown church.  We are the small, urban church.

If you come to our present building on a Sunday morning you will see about 80 people gathered in a sanctuary that seats about 800.  That might seem rather pathetic and I know it saddens a lot of the long time members.

But I think that this church still rocks and I think you should come to this church.  And it's not because it has two, slammin' pastors. ;)

First are the kids.  We don't have a lot of kids, but these kids are special to us.  They are the "little theologians" who teach us how to be followers of Jesus.  They aren't just trotted out during a service to show off how cute they are, but they are becoming a part of our worship and formational life.  In their simple words of faith, they can run circles around those of us with advanced degrees in church stuff.

Second, is the mission.  This church likes to think it is not engaged in mission- not like the big churches down the street.  No, we don't do mission that way.  But I've never seen a more engaged bunch of folks willing to "get dirty for Jesus."  When I ask people to pack food for hungry kids around the world, people show up.  When I ask them to spend a day at food pantry or donate items for former homeless persons, they are present and accounted for.  When asked to help a ministry half-way around the world, they do so.  This church has people involved in refugee resettlement, prayer shawl ministry and other works of compassion.  They tend to "punch above their weight" in how many people in the church participate in acts of mercy and justice.

Third, is the committment to inclusivity.  A lot of churches talk about being inclusive, especially to gay and lesbian folk, but this church really practices it.  There aren't a lot of churches that would accept having an openly gay person as one of their pastors and yet this church has.  But it's not just me- this is the kind of church where a kid who grew up in the congregation can feel safe enough come out at the Christmas Eve service.  True story.  This is the kind of church where a straight woman who loves kids decides to start a ministry for gay youth and the church allows her to follow where she feels God is leading.  And they even throw some money at her to help. 

This isn't a "program" church.  First was a program kind of congregation years ago, but it at its present size, it's far more pastoral than program.  So if you come to visit, don't expect a youth program or outreach program.  Instead, you will find a woman who is excitied to teach one or two teens or the young adults coming together to make cookies for persons with HIV/AIDS and the like.

First Christian isn't going to be a church for everyone.  If you want a church with  programs and lot of people your age, then we aren't going to be your church.  If you want a church that's packed with people, then we aren't your church.  There are lots of other churches in the Twin Cities to fulfill those purposes.

But, if you want a church where people will welcome you not just to be nice, but because they really want to know you, this can be a church for you.  If you want to get active in ministies of justice and have ideas, this might be your church.  If you want a community that cares for each other and welcomes those outside its small circle, then this is your place.  If you are a gay person that hasn't felt loved by a church before, this can be your church.  If you are autistic and wonder if a church could accept your "oddities," then this is the place for you.  You get the point?

As a pastor, I'm probably not supposed to brag about the church I serve, but I do think it is pretty awesome how God has used this little church in Minneapolis.  I may not be the best "salesperson" but I hope you will come and visit sometime.  You'll be glad you did.

The Quiet Spirit

If there is anything that I've learned over the last two years as the Associate Pastor is how to be on the lookout for the Holy Spirit moving.  I've learned to try to not be so invested in plans and theories and just watch how God works through the people in this congregation.

It's been cool to see how the Spirit has been moving in a church that so many think is out of energy and spent.  I've seen the Spirit in little kids, young parents and elderly grandmothers.  I've seen the Spirit in a Sunday School class with three little kids, a Wednesday night bible study where two 60-something women learn the Bible anew, a  from an 80-something woman who decided to start a new ministry.

I was reminded of how the Holy Spirit works in a recent blog post I found at the Christian Century.  Written by Steve Wooley, a retired Episcopal priest who goes by the name Country Parson, he writes about the endurance of small, rural congregations.  The last paragraph of this post could also apply to small, urban congregations as well:

It requires an openness to a subtle indwelling of the Holy Spirit. By subtle presence I mean an atmosphere of the Spirit’s presence, unseen and unheard, yet there. I don’t think you can make that happen whether by loud proclamation or through sophisticated consulting. A small rural congregation without that subtle presence may indeed be declining and dying, and we have all seen that happen. One with that subtle presence will probably continue from generation to generation as long as there are generations to be had.

Wooley is saying that what sustains a congregation, what makes it grow (not simply in numbers, but in faith) is that indwelling of the Spirit.  But the thing is, it doesn't happen in a loud way.  It doesn't happen in a way that anyone can see.  It also doesn't happen because of a special method that some transformation consultant is selling.  It happens in quiet and unbecoming ways that are not easy to see, but if someone has a heart that is willing, will see the Spirit and a glimpse of the kingdom of God.

I know that Wooley was talking about rural congregations, but I can see how this could apply to congregations like First Christian.  I've had to learn to put aside expectations for big numbers and just let the Spirit work and I have seen it work.

I think sometimes we can get so wrapped up in numbers, so wanting to find some program or path to change that will make the church what it once was, that we forget God.  In doing that, we miss out on the wonderful journey of God and we miss seeing how God's Spirit is still powering the church after all these years.

The gathered community called church is alive with the Spirit, if we have eyes to see and ears to hear.

Too Much Information

One of the things I've discovered since my Aspergers diagnosis a few years ago is that I have sensory overload.  I know that shouldn't be a shock to anyone that has an autistic disorder  or for someone who knows someone on the spectrum, but there it is.  I see it most often on Sundays after church, but it makes itself known at other times as well.

On Sundays, I will come home and have to take a nap, even on Sundays when I don't preach, which is most Sundays since the Senior Pastor does most of the preaching.  I know other pastors that will chime in and say "me too!" when it comes to preaching.  But while it might be the same, it's a bit different for me. Maybe the best way to describe this is that I feel at times like a laptop that runs on it battery far too long.  After a while, the battery starts to cause the laptop to get hot and soon thereafter, the battery is out of juice.  My brain is sorta like that.  I run low and I need to "plug-in" after worship.

Being pastor, even part-time is a very people-intensive job.  You are constantly dealing with people who want to talk to you about anything and everything.  Then there is the constant worrying that you'll say the right thing during worship or properly greet someone after worship.  Pastors also have to engage in a bit of small talk with their flock and always greet the new folks.

This is draining for neurotypical folks, but it is just deadly for those of us with Aspergers.  The battery is run down to nothing. I come home on Sunday afternoon not as much needing a nap, as needing time with no people to interact with- at least for an hour or so.

Seeing all of this might make one wonder why I'm even a pastor.  I've wondered that myself at times.  But I think that as much as this position can tax my senses, I've learned better people skills and at the very lear, I've learned how to "act human."  Plus, I've learned so much about the people I worship with that it can make some of this all worthwhile.

But this all means that I have to learn my limits.  I have to learn to get away when my brain gets overloaded (or overheated, if I use the laptop analogy).  It means, I can't always give 100 percent when it comes to something people-intensive, but I try to give at least 90 percent. 

Life is a balance: learning to appreciate you limitations and allowing yourself to be stretched as well.  This all reminds me just how complex my life truly is.

Fearlessly...

I wanted to share this blog post by Kara Root, a Presbyterian pastor in Minneapolis about how a certain Presbytery I happen to work for had a debate on one word. It's worth a read about ministry in our current context where fear seems to abound.

Sunday Sermon: November 28, 2010

“Unsafe at Any Speed”

Matthew 24:36-44; Isaiah 2:1-5

November 28, 2010

Advent 1

First Christian Church

Minneapolis, MN

In the Spring of 1990, I was a junior at Michigan State University.  For Spring Break that year, I went on a trip to retreat center outside of Norman, Oklahoma.  We drove caravan-style from East Lansing, Michigan all the way to Norman.  Now, one of the people responsible for driving was a fellow student, a sophomore named Ray.  Ray’s Dad worked at Ford and was able to get company cars to drive around.  Somehow, Ray was able to get his dad to let him use a company car on this trip.  Said company car happened to be a Ford Taurus. 

So, I ended up in Ray’s car as we drove from Michigan.  We stopped at some point for lunch in Missiouri.  I remember being in the parking lot of a fast-food joint and a group decided they wanted to go to Arby’s across the street.  Ray thought this was a good time for me to drive the car.

Now, this was a bad decision for three reasons.  First, the car was a stick shift, and I had never driven a car with a manual transmission.  Second to get to the Arby’s you had to go uphill…in a stickshift.  The third reason is that this Taurus wasn’t any ordinary car, but what is called among car geeks, the Taurus SHO.  SHO stands for super high output and it is a souped up version of this plain family sedan.  The original SHO, which this car was, had an engine made by Yahmaha, the motocycle company.  Maybe if I had know I was driving a demon maskquerading as family sedan, I would have declined driving Ray’s car, but ignorance is bliss, so I went ahead and tried to drive the car.

I repeat, I tried to drive the car.  Trying to remember to deal with the clutch was bad enough.  The car would rev up (another bad sign) and then I would stall it.  Start it again, the engine would rev, car would stall. 

After many fits and starts, I got it up the hill and now was attempting the most challenging maneuver: trying to make a left turn, up a hill, and into the parking lot.  I can still remember Ray saying something like “hit the gas” and I did just that.

Seconds later I had made the left turn into the parking lot and I’m pretty sure that everyone knew it.  Why?  Because when I hit the gas, I literally peeled rubber. The care sprung to life, and for a split second I felt like I was part of NASCAR.  The tires squealed, and I roared into the parking lot of Arby’s complete with the smell of burning rubber.

It was safe to say that I never did drive that car again. 

If there was any lesson to be learned, other than never try to learn to drive stick in a race car, it was learning to appreciate the power I was dealing with.  After my experience, I learned to apprciate the sheer power underneath the hood of this car and most importantly, that this was no ordinary car.  It was not safe.

The passage today found in book of Matthew is an odd one for this time of year.  This the first Sunday of Advent, a time when we prepare the coming of the Christ child, and it is during this time that we tend to get sentimental.  We like to sing Christmas hymns (even though it isn’t Christmas yet) about a little child born in Bethlehem.  We have images of a manger with the baby Jesus and animals milling about.  It all looks so peaceful and oh so very…safe.

And yet, here is this passage from the Bible where a grownup Jesus is talking about  the coming of the Son of Man and not knowing the hour and about being ready.  And if we read further on, there would be stories of ten bridesmaids that were locked out of wedding party and a tale about sheep and goats, reward and punishment.  None of this looks peaceful or bucolic. 

Growing up, many people thought this was about the second coming of Jesus and the lesson here is that we need to get saved and get right with God so that we won’t be “left behind.” 

But what if Jesus wasn’t just talking about future time, but was talking about the present time?  What if Jesus wasn’t talking about just about the judgement that is to come, but the judgement of Jesus now?

When Jesus spoke to his followers, he might just have been talking about his own time.  There were many who wanted things to be as they were and missed seeing the Messiah, God’s anointed right in front of them.  Many of the religious leaders of that time missed out on Jesus, because they refused to see him.  They were not ready to for the coming of the Son of Man.

If you read the gospels, you always find that the people one would expect to be ready for Christ’s coming would be most unprepared.  The religious leaders like the Pharisees tended to think that they knew all about God and about the coming of the Messiah and Jesus wasn’t it.  A man that ate with sinners and broke the religious laws, someone who was disruptive to their way of life, how could this man be the Messiah?

And yet, Jesus was the Messiah, the one who came to those who hearts were prepared for his coming, the outcasts, the forgotten, even the villians.  They were ready to hear the message of the Son of Man.

For us modern folk, the message here is to be ready for when Jesus returns.  We can hear in this text of that future day when Jesus will come and we must give an accounting of how we cared for our sisters and our brothers.  But the message is also that Jesus comes today and everyday.  God comes in our daily lives and we must have the eyes to see when Jesus breaksthrough.

All of this talk about the coming of God and God’s judgement is not what we expect in Advent.  We want that sweet baby Jesus.  But Advent reminds us that Jesus is not safe.   Jesus keeps on barging into our lives and messing up our plans.  Jesus points out that we don’t have it all together and that we need to get right with him.  Jesus  power to heal, to love the unlovable reminds us that we are dealing with something more power than anything we ever imagined.

What if we lived waiting for the coming of Chirst, not knowing the time when Jesus might arrive?  What would this church look like if we spent time doing works of justice towards those in need in preparation of Christ’s return?  What if we thought that in the face of the poor or the outcast we might encounter the Living Christ.

Advent is a time for preparing and waiting for the Christ, but it is also a time we are reminded that God is not safe.  We can get ready for wild ride with Jesus, but we can’t domesticate or tame Jesus.

In C.S. Lewis’ novel The Lion , The Witch and The Wardrobe, there is a conversation about the nature of Aslan.  The children in the story find out that Aslan is not a man but a lion and knowing about the power of lions, the kids are scared.  One of the children, named Susan asks,”Is he quite safe?  I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”  Mrs. Beaver replies, "That you will, dearie, and no mistake, if there's anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they're either braver than most or else silly."

Then Susan’s sister Lucy asks, "Then he isn't safe?" That prompts Mr. Beaver to tells the young girl, "Safe? Don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."

The problem today with the church is that we want to worship a safe God, one that is controllable and predictable.  But God isn’t safe.  We should live out our faith with fear and trembling.  But know that God is good as well. 

Twenty years ago, I didn’t know the power of that Ford Taurus.  Don’t be the same way of God.  We worship a power God of love and judgement.  Be prepared to meet Jesus now. Today.  Thanks be to God. Amen.

Listening to the Young (Adults)

It's interesting being in a congregation undergoing massive change.

Since First Christian sold its building in 2008, we've been deciding what to do next.  In September a vote was taken on deciding on four options: 1) a move to a new building; 2) a house church; 3) move into a shared space with two other churches; 4) close.  Options 2 and 4 got the lowest votes and now it's down 1 and 3.

Every so often, the taskforce charged with looking into these options get together and talk.  Sometimes we report about what is the talk within the congregation.  More often than not, the talk is always coming from one group: those in their 70s, 80s and even 90s.

For whatever reason, the views of this group is made known.  But what's interesting is that another group's views are seldom if ever mentioned: those under 40.  There isn't a large group of them at church, but they exist.  What's interesting is that no one has every really asked this group what they think about what's going on which is kind of odd: this is the group of folks that this church wants to attract and in some ways, their views seem to be ignored.

I know it's not intentional.  And no, I'm not saying the views of the older people don't matter.  But why aren't we taking the time to prod this group for insight to what the church is to be and do in this age, and moreso why aren't we asking them how they are doing?

Carol Howard Merritt's latest post is basically asking the same question.  This portion of her post is a keeper:

...so often we want people to enter our churches and begin caring about all of the traditions and cultural norms that concern us, but we don’t always take the time to meet them at the level of the ashtray. We neglect to find out what concerns them, what is important to them, and how we can work together.

Maybe the best way to attract younger folks is not with cool music or good coffee (though the latter is important in my book), but maybe it's by actually being concerned with their lives; wondering how they are doing, how the congregation can best help them and, well, how to be church to them.

The young adults at our church are fascinating people and have ideas and thoughts that are of value to this community called First Christian.  And the young adults at congregations all across the nation are people with questions and ideas that we need to pay attention to.

Let's not ignore the old, but let's listen the young in our midst- even if they are few in number.  What they have to say might surprise us.

Sex and the Aspie

This blog post is really not work safe or for little ones or for those uncomfortable chatting up sexual issues in public.  That said, it is a good account about how someone with Aspergers deals with sex and all the miscues she deals with.

Let's just say it reminds me of my own odd journey.  That's all I'm gonna say.

Why Do You Go To Church?

Christian Century book review editor Richard Kaufmann wonders why people bother to go to church:

When I sit in church on Sunday mornings, I sometimes look around at the other congregants and ask myself, "Why are these people here? Why did they choose to come to church?" Some people prefer staying at home to leisurely read the Sunday paper, or go out for a relaxed Sunday brunch. Why have these people given up their precious spare time to be here?

Not only is church attendance going down, but those who do go to church do so less frequently. As Lovett Weems points out in a recent Century article, the definition of a regular attendee has changed from someone who is there almost every Sunday to one who attends perhaps only two Sundays out of a month. And yet 38 percent of Americans report being an active member of a church or other religious organization. Many keep coming back to church for some reason.

Kauffman then answers his own question:

I can't speak for others, but here is why I go to church. I go first of all to meet God, to be in God's presence. I go also to make connection with other people who share many of my foundational convictions and commitments. I go to find meaning in life, to make sense of my life and to search for guidance on how I should live out my life.

In other words, I go to church to be part of something bigger than myself, to join my storyline with one that started long before I made my appearance in this life and will continue beyond my earthly existence.

This has led me to wonder why I go to church.  Of course, I can answer, "I'm one of the pastors," but that doesn't really work.  The reason I go to church is because this is the place that I am reminded of God's Spirit which moves throughout all of creation.  As much as people say they can worship in a forest or bowling alley, it is at a church surrounded by that odd group of people who come and gather that I am reminded of God's wider action in the world.  It is through these fellow folks on a journey that I know that God is afoot in creation.

Every Sunday I head down to the Sunday School room where the little kids come to learn about the Bible.  It is through the kids that I am reminded of what it means to be a servant of God.  The elderly gentleman in his 90s reminds me that we are never done learning about God and finding ways to love God.  The musicians are able to connect me with the Holy One in ways that words sometimes fail to do.

That's why I go to church.  How about you?

Acting, Aspergers and Sundays

Gavin Bollard has a good blog post on how persons with Aspergers tend to be actors:

I think that aspies tend to be good at acting because they spend so much of their daily lives acting - and from a very early age.

For example, it's true that aspies often don't get jokes (although you rarely hear us complaining when neurotypicals don't get ours). Young aspies quickly learn that it's easier to "act like you got the joke" than it is to take the brunt and embarrassment of being the only one who didn't. We are quite often called upon to "act amused".

Then there are those sad and solemn occasions where sometimes we feel intense waves of emotion - and sometimes we don't. Again, honesty in these situations leads to ostracisation. Sometimes it's simply better to "act sad" or "act shocked".

For years, when there was a time of sadness, like a death, I would try to force emotions and even at times "act sad."

These days, the time that I tend to act the most tends to be on Sundays when I'm at church.  Being a pastor is probably not the best vocation for someone with Aspergers.  What I've learned over the years is that pastoring is an incredibly people-intensive duty that can wear even neurotypicals out.  But I believe God called me to this, so I learn to "fake it."  I've learned (the hard way) to be more outgoing, more willing to engage in small talk and listen to folk.  It's wearing and there are times I want to run and hide, but it's important, and I do get to learn more about the people at church.

Acting is something people with Aspergers have to do if they want to get anywhere in life, especially if we want to remain employed.

Gavin concludes by saying that there is a price to paid for all this acting:

Acting can be very tiring work. You can't expect the aspie to "act normal" all of the time. Aspies who are doing a lot of acting will often find that they need more sensory breaks and alone time than when they're not acting.

Indeed. Which is usually why after church, I have to take a nap just to "recharge."

I don't want to give people the impression that being an Aspie pastor is one big chore. A few Sundays ago, I was at church for six hours during the Trunk or Treat event. I left tired and "peopled out" but I was also jazzed about the ministry that was going on at church.

Acting can be draining, but it's also damn rewarding.

Dealing With Suicide

There's a church in the eastern metro of the Twin Cities that is hosting an event on suicide prevention.  This Presbyterian congregation has made mental illness and health a primary ministry, so it's not that shocking that they would do something on suicide and helping know the warning signs.

What's interesting is that there is no mention of the whole rash of suicide because of sexual orientation.  This is a just an event on teens an suicide.

I know this sounds bad, coming from a gay man, but I'm kind of glad this at least from the announcement, about helping people be more aware of teen suicides and how we can best prevent them from happening.

In light of the most recent suicide attributed to bullying of a gay teen, I've been wondering about how the wider community has been responding to all of this.  Most of the time it's been with anger and cries that "something must be done."  I don't want to ignore the problem of homophobia, but there I am concerned in all the hue and cry, what is being left out is the mental illness aspect of suicide.  We aren't talking about the depression that kids can face, and we aren't talking about how we need to have professionals teach kids how to help their friends who are facing emotional issues. My fear is that this has become yet another issue in the culture wars; ignoring the issues of depression that might be a part of this.

I think suicide is one of those things that are sometimes mysteries.  What one person can withstand, another just crumbles. 

The first (and so far only) funeral I've done as a pastor was for man only a year younger than me who committed suicide.  His death caused a lot of pain among his friends. I knew him, but not that well.  Nevertheless, his death also affected me. 

What I'm trying to get at is that instead of getting angry, we need to try to do a better job of paying attention to kids when they are in pain.  We need to find ways to hook them up with mental health professionals if they need that.

There are times for angry fists, but sometimes the response needs to be a hug.

Faith in Low Tide

This past Sunday, our church held a Trunk or Treat event at church. A number of members got together and decorated their cars and welcomed people to come by. We had a few people who actually did come with their kids. One gaggle of kids included a little girl in a cheerleader costume who went around giving everyone hugs. It was priceless.

Since we didn't have a ton of kids, one could see this as a failure. The thing is, very few of did see it that way. There was talking of doing this event next year, maybe on Saturday evening to attract more folks. People were generally excited to be doing something that opened the church up to the neighborhood and well, allowed them to have fun.

First Christian is a church trying to accept the fact that it's not a big church anymore. In fact, it's more of a small church these days. There are two ways to respond to that, and I see both at times. Sometimes in the same person.

One way to respond is with anxiety. Pastors feel anxious because they want to do something, anything, to make the church "successful" again. We might not want to admit it, but I think deep down, we pastor-types want to see the church grow numerically and tend to think it numbers. We get mad that the congregation isn't "doing anything" to allow themselves to grow. We get mad at ourselves for not being able to make the congregation grow. Lay folk also get anxious that the church isn't growing and get mad at each other and frustrated at the pastor for...well, you know what I'm getting at.

The other response is to just get out there just do stuff. You go on mission projects or decorate your car and fellowship with others on a nice, sunny day. You basically walk in faith and just keep being faithful, feeding the poor, learning more about God and having fun.

Episcopal author and pastor, Loren Mead wrote recently in a two part essay about the current state of the Mainline Church. In part two, he talks about trying to do ministry in an "outgoing tide," when churches are losing members, money and dealing large, aging physical plants. Mead suggests that pastors need to learn to do ministry in this context. The long and short of it, according to Mead, is that we all better to get used this, because it's going to be a while. He has some advice for pastors during this time, but I think it could apply to the laity as well:

Clergy have, now, the hard job of learning to lead in a world where the tide is going out. It is my hunch that the outgoing tide has many years to go. How do we lead the church during the time of an outgoing tide?

No one knows for sure. But as one who has enjoyed a time when the tide came in, and as one who has struggled to understand how to cope with the change of tides, and as one who has worked alongside the present generation of courageous pastors to hold steady during the outgoing tide, I have some thoughts about leadership in such times.

First. It’s not your fault. Something big is going on. It’s not you who made the tide come in and it’s not because of you that it’s going our.

Second. Work on your own faith. We KNOW how to keep spirits up when things go well. We DON’T know how to thrive when things blow up on us. Find the things that feed your spirit – what are they? Study? Periods of quiet? Hard exercise or strenuous games? Deep conversation with colleagues or friends? Special spiritual exercises or worship? Carpentry or Gardening? Going on retreat or to conferences? Music – listening to it or making it –whichever is right for you. Remember the Psalms? — they are obviously what Jesus turned to when things went badly for him. Try them. Whatever it is, be sure to make time for it. And do it. Find. If you haven’t already, what feeds your soul and do it. Don’t let ANYTHING get in the way of your own renewal.

Third. Pay attention to the institutional infrastructure – the things like the building, the training of leaders including yourself, the nurture of the organization, learning how to raise and manage funds. Those are the things that tend to get overlooked when things tighten up – but they are the very things you’ll need when the tide turns. The blessing for you is that this is something you can DO. DO, while you have to wait, wait, wait, for the tide to change. Get busy with some stuff you can do. It will make a difference for the next generation.

Fourth. Stand steady, no matter what happens. Everybody is scared of the changes going on. Nobody knows what to do or how it’s coming out. (Remember Jackson at Manassas? “There stands Jackson like a stone wall” it was said of him. He didn’t know for sure any more than anybody else, and I’m sure he was as tempted to anxiety and fear as everybody else – but he stood, and the men around him found they could stand, too. So, pastors, you must stand. If you can stand, others will be able to also.

Fifth. Remember our story. It’s not your denomination or your congregation. It’s a story that begins with Abraham and Moses. It’s a story of a God who promises and keeps his promises, even though his answers often carry surprises. It’s a story that’s seen a lot of tides come in and go out. Hold onto that story. Preach that story. Live that story. So the tide’s going out? So what?

Sixth. You are not alone. Remember Elijah, cowering in fear, sure everyone had deserted him. A voice told him that 8,000 had not bowed to Baal. You have far more than 8,000. Some of them you know. Many you don’t know. But they are out there, working their tails off, often not sure exactly what to do. You are not alone. When you DO feel alone, it’s your depression that’s getting you.

Seventh. You may not win. We did not sign papers when we came on board, papers that said “You will never face losses or failure!” As a matter of fact, the name on your ordination (not necessarily the papers) is the name of somebody who ended up on a cross.

Eighth. Prepare for the long run. Tides change when tides change. We are likely to have to lead for a long time in hard times. Don’t expect anything to be quick or easy. It doesn’t work that way. You’ve been called into a marathon, not a sprint. You may have to pass the baton to another before the race is over.

At the end of all this, Mead says something that is the hard truth:

Advice. That’s the best I have to offer. But let me say one thing straight and clear: over the past 50 years, we and many church leaders have gradually begun dodging reality.

In someways, congregations have denied the reality that things were changing. We also tried to find some magic trick that would change things and get us "back to normal." But the fact is, the world changed, and in some cases there was nothing to be done about it.

So what do we do? Living in faith. As Mead notes, we have faith in a God that loves us. Peter left his boat and Abraham gave up a nice retirement because they heard the call to follow God. They relied on faith. I think in the midst of it, we are called to be faithful and put our trust in God. We have no idea where God will lead us, but it will be a wonderful ride.

In someway, that little girl who gave out hugs reminds me that this is what the church is called to be, a faithful community that embraces God's world, welcoming all who come by.

Live in faith. Give out hugs. Have fun.

The Silence

Lately, I've found it hard to write.

It's not that I don't have anything to say- it's just that I have over time learned to not share my true feelings in public- which has in the long run, made it hard to write since writing (at least for me) means share what I feel.

I think I've just learned over the years the futility of sharing one's views. When you tell them what you really feel, I've noticed how offended they become. So, I learned to just keep my trap shut. Better to keep the peace.

I've learned to keep quiet not just online, but in day to day life. I don't share my views or questions. I don't want to upset people and "get in trouble" with friends who may not agree.

But doing this comes at a price. When you don't say anything to keep the peace, you end up shutting yourself down.

I think that's gotta change. I have views and I have opinions and I'm tired of trying to be "nice." I want be able to debate and to actually have conversations with people on issues where we might not see eye-to-eye and yet respect one another.

So, I am going to learn to be more open and honest and damn the torpedoes.

It's time to break the silence.

Sunday Sermon- "In the Hood for Good"

One part of this sermon was not included in the written version.  Daniel and I are in the midst of adding on to our house. During the summer, we had an old and sick maple tree chopped down.  Daniel had found a business called "Wood in the Hood," which takes urban felled trees and make them into something.  In our case, we made them into a hardwood floor found in our bedroom- a reminder that God can take what seems old and useless and by the Spirit, make it into something of use for God.

“In the Hood for Good”


Joel 2:23-32, Luke 18:9-14
October 24, 2010
First Christian Church
Minneapolis, MN



I will pour out my spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions.


This phrase has been rattling around my head for the last few months. It comes from the book of Joel. Shortly after Jesus ascending into heaven, his apostle Peter uses this passage on the day of Pentecost to explain the outpouring of the Spirit on what was to become the Church.


For whatever reason, this passage comes to mind whenever I think about this congregation. The passage talks about old men, or maybe old people and the young. When I look at this congregation, I happen to see a lot of old(er) people . I think about what the prophet Joel has to say about the old folks and how they will dream dreams. The prophet doesn’t have a picture of senior citizens living out their golden years in ease. No, the Holy Spirit will be poured out, causing these elders to dream what they had not dreamed before.


It’s funny that the prophet sees old people in the way he does. It’s funny because we don’t see the grey hairs in the same way: we see them as a problem.


One of the issues facing our church and countless others within our denomination and throughout Mainline Protestantism is the graying of our churches. Fewer younger folks are coming to church and our churches are getting older and greyer. We wonder what will happen to the church as we get near to retirement, or we enter or later stages of life. Church leaders want to find someway to reach out to younger folks and we try to find ways to be relevant and hip.


In doing so, we start to see older folks as a problem. You guys aren’t hip. Some of you don’t know how to use Facebook, let alone Twitter. You don’t like the new hymns.


So, we kind of write you off and wait for you all to die off so that we can on to the business of ministry.


But Joel also talks about young men having visions. That gets me thinking about our children and youth. They might be few in number, but they make a large impact in the life of our church. But the thing is, as much as we want to have younger folks, we- meaning the larger church- don’t want them too young. We don’t know how to deal with kids especially in worship. We think they say cute things, but why in the world should we take them seriously? They don’t have a degree or anything. Maybe once the church gets back on its feet, we will concentrate on kids, but until then, they are best seen and definitely not heard.


It is so easy to look at ourselves and see the grey hair coupled with the little ones and wonder how in God’s name can we have a future? How can this little church be transformed with nothing but old people and a few kids?



The background of this passage is that the Israelites had just faced a catastrophe. A plague of locusts had basically denuded the land leave devastation in its wake. There was very little left and the people were starving. It’s in the midst of this that the prophet comes out with this crazy notion that somehow there will be restoration. He believes hope will have the last word.



It wasn’t too long ago, that Bob preached about all the major events that have happened to this community over the last decade or so. But he also talked about the movement of the Spirit taking place in this church.



The passage says that the Spirit will be poured out on all flesh. Everyone would bathe in the refreshing waters of the Spirit. And just for emphasis, the prophet wanted to let us know that it might be poured out on people we don’t expect, on people we tend to discount. Old people. Young people.



That’s kind of the way it is with ministry when it is led by the Spirit. You will never know where you end up or who will lead you there.



I’m not going to give examples of the people I’ve seen both young and old who are leading this church, empowered by the Spirit- I don’t want to embarrass them. But I do want you to allow yourselves to start seeing things through the eyes of the Spirit in the way Joel did. He was able to see hope where there was none.



In the last year or so, I’ve seen people of all ages, but especially the very young and very old who are showing this church that there is still life left in us, that God is not through with us. The Spirit is being poured out here at 22nd and First, my friends.



I will pour out my spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions.



God give us the eyes to see it. Thanks be to God. Amen.