(Pro?)Found Facebook Posts

Sometimes I am amazed when I go back through old Facebook posts and find gems I've jotted down in haste and forgotten.  Here's a few from a gleaning of my Facebook page.

Call to Life

Wednesday, August 4, 2010 at 4:04am via mobile

The morning light on the horizon gives one the assurance of the promise of new life. Good morning life!

Morning Charge

Sunday, August 15, 2010 at 5:00am via mobile

Golden rays of light and promise spray from the horizon. A new day is birth. How will I live the promise today?

Call to Worshipful Living

Tuesday, September 21, 2010 at 5:56am

The Morning Star shone brightly this morning in the predawn sky. Tho the daylight blocks my view, that Star still shines with the same radiance, still glows the same warm light into our distracted lives. Look up! Your light shines!

9/11, Anger, Forgiveness

Saturday, September 11, 2010 at 8:34am

When we confuse forgetting with forgiving, we become our own enemy. We will never forget. The question is, "Are we brave enough and strong enough to forgive?" Or will we become like them: vengeful, angry, and fueled by hate?

An Epiphany Song

Thursday, January 6, 2011 at 4:07pm via HTC Sense

Awake! Awake, and greet the new day!
Greet the new morning and be on your way
The people are starving, employment they seek
Awake and be ready to empower the weak

Awake! Awake and open your heart
The dawn is our sign of faiths journey to start
The weary seek rest and the hungry a meal
Awake and make haste for our God is made real.

Awake! Awake! And greet the new morn!
The prophets await us and Jonah's forlorn.
Arise! Get you started. The kingdom's at hand.
Good News is for sharing--bring word of God's plan.

Money Laundering

Monday, November 21, 2011 at 8:28pm near Tell City, IN via mobile

I just discovered I put my American Express card thru the washer and dryer. I have no money to launder so I launder my credit! Just like the bankers.

Being Exercised

Monday, February 13, 2012 at 8:42am near Tell City, IN

Hamsters and gerbils exercise by running on wheels; they get no where. Humans do the same on treadmills, don't we? What's the treadmill that gets you exercised but takes you no where? What are you jumping upon that gets your heart pounding and your brow wet but never moves toward change. It's time to get out of the wheel and onto the path toward our futures.

Good News

April 24, 2012 — in Tell City, IN.

Today I broke my necklace. But I heard it drop to the floor and didn't lose it.

Today I lost my phone. But I called it and found it inside a three ring binder in my desk drawer.

Today I got 107 pieces of junk e-mail. But I got one note saying my Doctoral Project has been cleared for development. 

It's been a good day. 

Values and Money

January 12, 2013 via mobile

Which theologian said that our budget reflects our values? It never ceases to amaze me that the very people who complain that they have no money for (name that ministry or church) are the same ones who manage to take extravagant vacations, buy all kinds of gadgets and toys, and buy new cars every year. Priorities are displayed in how we spend our money.

Open House, Open Heart

Getting ready for a new pastor to inhabit the parsonage, the church trustees decided to refinish the custom made kitchen cabinets rather than replace them.  This required removing all the cabinet doors and drawer fronts, and exposed everything hidden behind them.  What I had kept hidden, or at least out of site, was exposed.  The untidy accumulation of food items, dishes, cleaning supplies, and small appliances -- the tools of my daily living in temporary space -- were now in plain sight. Guests (more likely workers) who came into the kitchen could now see all that unorganized and motley assortment of my living.

Sometimes I feel like this: I'm a doorless cabinet where all that I am is exposed for God to see. And God accepts and loves me anyway. We can clean out our cabinets, but sometimes we require deeper renewal: Taking off the doors is the only way to refurbish the soul within. 

From the Pulpit Perspective....

I believe this speaks for itself:

The Congregation from the Preacher's Perspective.....   walking on coals.

I came across this while re-reading a book this morning. I have enjoyed this parable as means to imagine change in a tangible way. A link to the author's original work is found in the byline and at the end of the post.  

Turning the Fear of Transformation into the
Transformation of Fear

by Danaan Parry

Sometimes I feel that my life is a series of trapeze swings. I'm either hanging on to a trapeze bar swinging along or, for a few moments in my life, I'm hurtling across space in between trapeze bars.

Most of the time, I spend my life hanging on for dear life to my trapeze-bar-of-the-moment. It carries me along at a certain steady rate of swing and I have the feeling that I'm in control of my life.

I know most of the right questions and even some of the answers.

But every once in a while as I'm merrily (or even not-so-merrily) swinging along, I look out ahead of me into the distance and what do I see? I see another trapeze bar swinging toward me. It's empty and I know, in that place in me that knows, that this new trapeze bar has my name on it. It is my next step, my growth, my aliveness coming to get me. In my heart of hearts I know that, for me to grow, I must release my grip on this present, well-known bar and move to the new one.

Each time it happens to me I hope (no, I pray) that I won't have to let go of my old bar completely before I grab the new one. But in my knowing place, I know that I must totally release my grasp on my old bar and, for some moment in time, I must hurtle across space before I can grab onto the new bar.

Each time, I am filled with terror. It doesn't matter that in all my previous hurtles across the void of unknowing I have always made it. I am each time afraid that I will miss, that I will be crushed on unseen rocks in the bottomless chasm between bars. I do it anyway. Perhaps this is the essence of what the mystics call the faith experience. No guarantees, no net, no insurance policy, but you do it anyway because somehow to keep hanging on to that old bar is no longer on the list of alternatives. So, for an eternity that can last a microsecond or a thousand lifetimes, I soar across the dark void of "the past is gone, the future is not yet here."

It's called "transition." I have come to believe that this transition is the only place that real change occurs. I mean real change, not the pseudo-change that only lasts until the next time my old buttons get punched.

I have noticed that, in our culture, this transition zone is looked upon as a "no-thing," a noplace between places. Sure, the old trapeze bar was real, and that new one coming towards me, I hope that's real, too. But the void in between? Is that just a scary, confusing, disorienting nowhere that must be gotten through as fast and as unconsciously as possible?

NO! What a wasted opportunity that would be. I have a sneaking suspicion that the transition zone is the only real thing and the bars are illusions we dream up to avoid the void where the real change, the real growth, occurs for us. Whether or not my hunch is true, it remains that the transition zones in our lives are incredibly rich places. They should be honored, even savored. Yes, with all the pain and fear and feelings of being out of control that can (but not necessarily) accompany transitions, they are still the most alive, most growth-filled, passionate, expansive moments in our lives.

We cannot discover new oceans unless we have the courage to lose sight of the shore.

Anonymous

So, transformation of fear may have nothing to do with making fear go away, but rather with giving ourselves permission to "hang out" in the transition between trapezes. Transforming our need to grab that new bar, any bar, is allowing ourselves to dwell in the only place where change really happens. It can be terrifying. It can also be enlightening in the true sense of the word. Hurtling through the void, we just may learn how to fly. 

---

From the book Warriors of the Heart by DanaanParry.

A Newsletter Article From the Archives

I first published this here in July, 2008.  I felt it was worth bringing back to the top of the list.  

As an alternative to preaching on some Sundays, I’ve had people write anonymous questions for me to answer during worship. One of the questions submitted was this:

“…religion is something people do because that’s what is expected of them. We are told we must believe in God to go to heaven, so we do it blindly or not sincerely because we are afraid of the consequences….Is there true sincere faith?” 

Wow!  Why are we part of a faith community? What do we get out of it? What difference does faith make in our everyday lives?  Here’s a few possibilities:

• Some people attend church because they’ve always attended church. Their ancestors before them attended church, so they do too. It’s a habit and a duty.
• Some people participate in a community of faith because they are looking for answers to life’s questions. They are looking for what will fill emptiness in their lives, trying to satisfy an unidentified hunger. They shop from church to church, faith to faith, looking and looking, and moving on when something offends or challenges them.
• Some people attend church because they fear the wrath of an angry god. They’ve been told that God will judge harshly those who do not jump the hoops and submit to the anger of an all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-present God.
• Some are part of a community of faith because it is in relationships with others that they are fed, nourished, challenged to grow, and refreshed in their whole being.
• Some people don’t attend church because they see people who do as hypocrites and judgmental, but they still have questions, are still looking to fill that emptiness. 
•  Some people don’t attend church because they can’t wrap their minds around the whole “motivation by fear” concept.
• Some people are not part of a faith community because they have no idea what goes on there but have seen and heard in the media what “Christians” are about and they don’t like it.
• Some people are not part of a faith community because they’ve never been there, their parents didn’t attend, and none of their friends attend. These are spiritual people and the consumer’s market of offerings in the Spirituality section of the bookstores and the internet communities are great places to check things out.

I would propose that participating in a faith community and having faith are not the same. One can be a “member” of a church and not “have faith.” Humans are born with a spirit, a soul that yearns to be connected to something larger and beyond themselves. That yearning is satisfied through faith, but not by faith. Faith is not a solution, but a journey. True, sincere faith is an honest and open trek through life – both the challenges and the joys – growing and reaching toward that “something” beyond and greater than us. In Christianity, that trek is guided by the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth and the writings of his earliest followers. And that “something” is the One Jesus called God.  With faith, we never remain the same; change is the only constant.

Yes, my friend, there is true, sincere faith. It is not found in a book or on the internet. It is not found in the media or in anything someone else can give you. It’s not even found at church!  It is found by looking within yourself, recognizing the God-shaped hole within you, and seeking honest, open, and challenging ways to fill that void. It is a journey we must share with others who feed, nourish, and challenge us. Easy answers and the status quo of life will not be a part of this journey. It is a journey that will continuously transform, change, and remold you.

Blessings on the Journey!      Carly

A Sewing Machine and Ministry

My mother’s sewing machine was a mainstay of our home when I was growing up.  It was at that machine that many of my clothes were made from hand-me-downs and recycled Goodwill clothing, repairs and patches were administered to well loved wardrobe items, my sisters’ wedding gowns were crafted, several sets of drapes were assembled and later repaired, the sails for my brother’s boat were repaired, and the dress my mother wore to
my wedding was created.  The walnut case – assembled at a factory in the early 1900’s – was a  constant reminder of memories of good times, challenging times, sad times. It was a piece of furniture I received from my brother with great joy.  This I would treasure in my own home; I would use it to create and repair clothing and household items, as well as for my own memory-making. 

But my brother had stored it for 5 years in his basement.  The moisture from that Connecticut River Valley home had caused the walnut veneer to mold, buckle, and peel. The varnish finish was checked from hot summers on Cape Cod.  The machine within this case was still fully functional with a little fine tuning; but the case in which it was housed was in serious danger of being non-useable. Something needed to be done about the case, but I was conflicted about how to proceed.  To re-veneer and refinish the case would decrease its historic value; to do nothing would also diminish its value.  It was not as it used to be and, it seemed, it could never be like that again.  Change had happened and was yet to happen, and there was no course of action that I could take to avoid some type of loss.  Yet the promise – and challenge – of renewal and rebirth engaged me.

The state of the Church, to me, is very much like the status of my mother’s sewing machine.  We are in a time of major transition, and change is not something we do well.  Often when faced with limited choices we find conflict and grief are more comfortable than change.  We know things will never be the same, but we have great difficulty knowing how to proceed into God’s future. 

Ministry happens when the needs of creation, the giftedness of individuals, and the will of God collide.  Ministry is about building trust and strengthening relationships: between individuals, between people and God, between groups, within families and communities.  Ministry is about learning and growing: in our personal and spiritual lives, in our understanding of one another and “the other.”

For most of the last 28 years, my role as a pastor has been to engage, foster, and lead ministry in the settings to which has God called me. My ministry has centered on the needs of congregations and individuals who need healing from conflict, clarity in their mission and purpose, new hope and vision their future, and spiritual and faith renewal. The image of my mother’s sewing machine explains this well.

My wedding band & finger suffered damage in this work.

To restore and renew this treasured item was painful.  As I emptied the drawers, I found spools of thread that matched the colors of many memories: patch-sized pieces of cloth carefully stored to repair long-gone but remembered clothing; bobbins and needle threaders, buttons and snaps, darning needles and crochet hooks; and a shuttle bobbin from the machine that the case previously housed.  Memories flowed as I handled each item to decide what was worth keeping.  But this was just the beginning of the work.

The sewing machine – the heart of the piece, had to be carefully extracted, first by unclasping the leather belt that wound from the wheel to the treadle; then by unscrewing the bolts that held it firmly to the case.  Lifting it carefully, several small metal items fell to the floor; they were straight pins long lost in the midst of a forgotten sewing project.  Each wood screw had to be removed so that the wooden lid, the machine pedestal, and hinged spring could be separated and their veneer layers replaced.  The checked finish on the drawers and lower cabinet needed to be repaired, but was the finish shellac, varnish, or lacquer?  How to proceed depended upon the make up of the cabinet.

Ministry is, for me, a careful study of the history and life of a congregation.  I listen to the memories, hopes and dreams of the church members, and engage the congregation in a time of self study that assesses the strengths and challenges of the congregation and the gifts and abilities of its members.  Together, we carefully examine the layers of history, disclose and address the worn and painful areas, and seek to discern the direction God is calling the congregation.  This is not a painless process; how to proceed depends upon the make up of the congregation and the trust levels of its members. 

Initially, I tried out several approaches to the checked finish of the sewing cabinet, each tried in an inconspicuous place; but the finish did not respond.  I brushed the finish with lacquer thinner and finally the checked finish dissolved just enough to smooth out some of the checked area.  Ultimately, this too did not work in the larger areas, and I had to strip all of the original finish off of the case.  These first attempts were not failures but learnings.

Ministry engages the congregation in learning:  about themselves, about their faith, about their life together, about God’s purpose for them within that particular community.  Not everything works perfectly because we are human and imperfect; but when we view our experiences as a journey of learning, we grow stronger.  The journey into God’s future travels through the valleys of errors, over the mountains of success, and across the flat plains of the ordinary.

On the floor of my garage are ten components that will eventually be reassembled into my mother’s sewing machine case. I am waiting for the right time -- a warm, humid day -- to apply the new veneer with old fashion hide glue.  I have a vision of what the completed project will look like, but need to remind myself to be open to the surprises the wood may yet have in store.  Assembled, it will still be the piece that adorned my childhood home and filled my memories, even though the scratches and finish will be new.  With the Singer machine reattached, it will be put to good use toward the purpose for which it was crafted.  All this will happen in time.

Ministry, too, is a matter of vision and of timing.  For the Church to be renewed, rebuilt, and retooled for this Post-Christian era, we must actively watch and listen for the direction and vision God gives us and put our gifts, abilities, and purpose into the hard work of living into God’s future.

     Just as my mother’s sewing machine will find a new purpose in a new place, so my ministry is being transformed and changed.  For six years I led a congregation through healing (from an abusive pastor) to new vision. I have co-pastored a new church exploration.  I have guided 9 congregations through painful transitions and healing to ready them for the leadership of a called pastor.  I have experienced the transitions in these congregations and then left the new life for another to lead.  I feel strongly that God is calling me to a new challenge in leading beyond the transitions and into the new vision God provides.  In the language of my mother’s sewing machine, I have led God’s people through the remembering, disassembly, testing, and refinishing; I feel called to finish the project, to imagine and form new ministries and new life within a now-healing congregation.  

Traveling Church

I hadn't had any breakfast; it was a very early flight. As I walked down the terminal to find a cup of coffee, someone called my name. It wasn't a page over the airport PA. It was a male voice behind me. I turned around in search of its source. I recognized no one. I walked on.

He called again. "Carly!"

It couldn't be a family member; they would have called me by my given name, Carla. I still saw no one I recognized. I turned and walked on.

A third time the voice called my name.

It is unusual to hear your name called across the expanse in a strange place. I am alone in this airport and far from home. There is no one I would expect to meet in this place. But it is a holiday weekend. So it is conceivable that an acquaintance from some past existence is also traveling through this hub of an airport. But no one seems familiar within the realm of my vision. I walked on; who ever it was, he had to be calling someone else.

The narrative is reminiscent of Samuel's call in the Temple. God called and the child assumed that the old man, Eli, was calling to him in the night. Eli told him to go back to bed. The voice was unrelenting. Samuel heard his name called several times. Eli discerned the source and told the boy to respond with an appropriate response.

Is there an appropriate response to hearing your name shouted across an airport terminal? Should I have walked around seeking some familiar face? Should I have called back asking for its source to come forward? To where does one turn for direction in such a situation?

The Church finds itself in a similar situation. We are traveling through an unknown land called postmodernity, or if you prefer, a post-christian era. We hear the call to be the Church but we no longer know what that looks like. We don't recognize the faces around us, nor the voices calling to us. We are strangers in a strange land holding onto the promise of a future we cannot yet imagine.

For many congregations, the landscape is as alien as Mars; church members cannot recall a time when they didn't exist exactly as they exist today, when the role of the church in society was not dominant, when the norm was not for children to be raised in the faith. And yet today it would seem that our 1955 church no longer has influence in society and most young people have no interest and little knowledge of the faith.

For others, the change has been happening with varying paces...from a a gradual decline to rapid loss of members either through death or attrition of friends and members. All face financial challenges as the cost of maintaining a building outweighs the available sources of income; mission and ministry are hardly affordable while staff salaries are a luxury.

And still we hear the call to the future. Still our names echo in the halls of time to step forward in faith and be the church. Where do we turn for direction? Where is our Eli? Who will guide us in our response to God's call to thrive? How can we walk through this transitional terminal alone? Where are the familiar faces?

On the return walk to the gate with a strong cup off coffee in hand, I heard the voice again. This time, he called me "Pastor Carly." 

The face was only vaguely familiar, and as he walked toward me it was clear that he knew I didn't recognize him. He stretched out his hand and told me his name. I had been the pastor that married him years ago when I served a church in his town. He recalled the amusing way I had introduced the "church rules" at the rehearsal, the care I had given him and his beloved in the premarital counseling, the way I had included the children from both previous marriages in the vows and unity candle. He remembered that I cared, that I was inclusive, that I embraced the diversity of his new family, that I didn't try to "cram religion down [their] throats;" he remembered too that the other churches in town refused to marry them. Because of their experience with their marriage preparation and ceremony, the couple had become active in that congregation, were raising their children there, were participating in learning opportunities, and were supporting its missions and ministries. I had brought him into the church, he said.

Despite the memories he shared, his wedding did not come to my mind. What he shared could have been any of the marriages at which I've officiated. What I thought was ordinary ritual and liturgy, he found to be meaningful and nurturing. My putting faith in action was what put faith into his own life.

The voice that called to me across that airport was the same voice Samuel heard so many years ago. In the voice of this former groom was the wisdom of God assuring me that this new era of the Church will carry forward the essentials of the faith, that the Body of Christ has a role in the worlds of today and tomorrow, and that we will find the answers that our Still Speaking God still offers to us. If we are open to listening and responding to the call of our names in unfamiliar places.

Location:DTW

The Interim

Finale

Let me finish my time of interim ministry with an apology:  I didn’t get everything done I intended to get done.  For example:  every summer when I return from a week of vacation, I throw the sermon out the window and spend a Sunday with a time of questions and answers in the place where the sermon usually goes in the service.  Since last June I have had on my desk nine slips of paper with the questions I did not have time to answer on that “Stump the Pastor” Sunday.  I had promised I would put the responses into the newsletter.  I only made time to respond to one – and it was just a month ago.  

There were other things I intended to do as well: offer another class of “Called to Care,” gather a task force together to revise the Building Use Policy, follow up on the families of some of recently deceased members, and visit with certain members of the congregation just because I wanted to understand them better.  I didn’t do these things.  And for that I am sorry.

I could make excuses for these things.  I could tell you how many funerals have come up.  I could point to the number of meetings and pastoral care situations I’ve attended.  I could tally up all my missed days off and all the late nights I’ve spent doing this or that of church work.  But these are, at best, reasons for my not completing the tasks.  Excuse, in the Oxford English Dictionary, is The action of looking indulgently upon an offender or an offense; a consideration, indulgence, pardon.  An excuse is not mine to give; it requires both of us working things out and you pardoning me for my omission. 

So I am left with an apology to offer.  I did not complete all that I would have liked to complete in 24 months.  And, I am sure that along the way, I have offended more than one of the members.  To these, I confess that I am sorry; I wish it could have been different.  I seek  forgiveness.

I am sure that I have not been the pastor each one has wanted.  I am confident that a few deem my time doing interim ministry a waste and a farce.  There are things for which some will blame me, especially since my being “out of the picture” will make that convenient.  For these, I can only offer that I have done the best that I could with what gifts God has given me.  And to these I would hope they might pray about the role their expectations, participation, and words might have contributed to their disappointment. 

If there is one thing I hope each member of the churches I've served has learned in their time between pastors, it is this:  Each of us plays a role in the results we share.  If you are not happy with a situation, prayerfully and humbly examine the role you have played in helping it come about.  If you are pleased with the outcome of something, humbly acknowledge that you did not accomplish it on your own.  If you are stressed about a situation, humbly and openly discuss with those directly involved that stress and confess your own part of the making.  This is what being a member of a healthy congregation requires.  

As for me, I have been changed by all of you.  A part of each of you will go with me to a new ministry in a new location.  As Stephen Schwartz so aptly wrote in the musical, Wicked, “Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.”  I hope the same is true for you.

Blessing on your journey, where ever God leads you.        

Pastor Carly