A Church for Starving Artists

Last night Nadia Bolz-Weber wowed a big crowd in Chicago, promoting Pastrix and, when asked about her home life, she shared that she’s home almost every night when not traveling.  She doesn’t do meetings.

This is not the case for most pastors.

We do council meetings, staff meetings, premarital counseling meetings, family funeral planning meetings, baptism preparation meetings, conflict mediation meetings, deacons meetings, elders meetings, presbytery/association/conference/committee meetings. Meetings R Us.  (I bet Nadia does meetings too; they are simply good meetings and they don’t happen at night.)

My job description literally states that I must be able to sit through long meetings.  Really, it does.

Some of my friends really wanted to join us to hear Nadia speak last, but they couldn’t because they had meetings.  And one of the things they missed was her insight that people who like meetings are the ones who go to meetings which means that decisions are made in our spiritual communities by meeting-lovers which perpetuates the custom of having meetings and more meetings.  Exhausting.

One Lent, the church I was serving gave up all meetings.  All.  Meetings.  It was heavenly . . . except for those for whom it wasn’t.  Several people hated the fact that we weren’t having meetings because they “didn’t know what was going on.”  Looking back, I wonder if meetings, for them, was their opportunity to:

• Be in charge of something.  (For some church people, it’s their only “power.”)
• Keep an eye on the pastor.  (What does she do, if she’s not in meetings with us?)

For the record, I am pro-meeting if:

• Something concrete will accomplished.  (i.e. No talking in circles.)
• There is a predetermined start time and an end time, and we strictly keep that schedule.
• Everybody participates and feels heard.
• We can agree to cancel meetings if there is no reason to meet.  (These are not reasons to meet:  “We always meet on the second Monday.”  “We need to discuss ___ for the third time.”  “___ missed our last meeting and we need to catch him up on our progress.”
• It’s fun.

Meetings can build community.  Or they can suck out our souls.

It used to be true that pastors were advised to be out at meetings no more than three nights a week.  Actually, three nights out a week is crazy . . . unless you are doing something fun/engaging/nourishing.  Honestly, if we are out more than one night a week – for a meeting –  it’s too much, at least on a regular basis.

There are good meetings and there are not-so-good meetings.  Of the meetings you attended/ran in the past week, how would you rank them?

Me:  In the past seven days, I’ve attended six meetings.  I’d say that five of them were really good.  You?

Image source.

On Monday, I ordered a skinny mocha at the Starbucks Drive-Thru on my way to work and about halfway to the office, realized I was drinking a caramel macchiato.  I can hear you now as you shake your angry fist and curse the heavens:  ‘No!  Not a wrong drink order! No!”

I accepted the tragic fact that I’d just consumed 130 more calories than I’d planned.

On Tuesday, as I drove through Starbucks again, my barrista friends told me that the Caramel Macchiato Orderer had angrily telephoned them when she got to her office demanding a refund.  They had Ruined. Her. Day.  She had consumed sugar free chocolate instead of caramel with her coffee drink.  Lord, have mercy.  Christ, have mercy.  Lord, have mercy.

I remember once when one of our kids went to school forgetting it was Red Day but he had worn blue.  And it ruined his day.  Actually, I totally get this – if you are five years old.

What ruined our day 12 years ago has been resurrected in countless ways.  It brings those of us together who remember where we were.  It warms our hearts to recall the heroism.  It also takes very little for my heart to race and my throat to choke up when I think back to that day.  I am bracing myself to visit the 9-11 Museum in NYC when it opens.

But even terrorism doesn’t wholly ruin any day.  The days belong to God and God can redeem even the very worst day.

Nevertheless we remember humbly

• those almost three thousand souls who perished 12 years ago today.
• the Four Little Girls who died 50 years ago Sunday when terrorists bombed the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham.
• the eight Iraqi police officers mistakenly shot and killed in Fallujah by US forces 10 years ago tomorrow.
• the 1400+ victims who died 3 weeks ago in Damascus after suffocating gas was propelled into their neighborhoods.
• the 27 people who died 9 months ago tomorrow at the hand of Adam Lanza in Newtown.

By grace even these tragedies shall not ruin us.

Anand Giridharadas of The New York Times wrote Sunday about his experience of being rated by an Uber cabbie recently.  Not only would he – as the consumer – be rating the cabdriver as an Uber customer, but he realized upon leaving the taxi, that the cabdriver was also rating him.  Great.  One more thing to compete over:  Who is a better taxi passenger?

We are already assessed by employers and teachers, often by the numbers. Some of us have Klout accounts that rate our social media influence between 0 and 100.  President Obama’s Klout score is 99.

According to Giriharadas’ article, there’s a dating service in NYC that matches people based on their their Klout score.  Ugh.

Imagine if we pastors decided to rate our parishioners.  Again, ugh.

All of us in professional church ministry are aware that some parishioners can be counted on to help at a moment’s notice and others cannot.  We know who the Type A parishioners are, and yes, they Get Things Done.  We know which people are committed and which seem less so.  Actually, I have a pastor friend who serves a New Church Plant and this pastor holds individual annual evaluations with each member to assess his/her spiritual growth, financial commitment, etc.

I’m not interested in this and honestly, I doubt that many people in our spiritual communities would 1) care and 2) stick around if most pastors tried to do this.

But the truth is that we do keep score in church.  We judge each other, often mercilessly.  We often eat our own.

Imagine a world in which church was the one community where people didn’t keep score.  Imagine a totally safe environment where we figure out together how God works.

Many churches celebrated the start of a new program year yesterday with Rally Day.  Or “Kick Off Sunday.”  Or “Welcome Back Sunday.”   For anyone reading this who is not a Church Person, Rally Day is when:

• New Christian Education Classes start for the fall.
• Weekly Worship returns to the fall/winter worship schedule.
• The choir returns.

All good stuff, friends, except that those who are not Church People don’t really care.  Even some church people don’t really care.

If we hope to be a 21st Century Church, let’s re-think Rally Day for 2014.  It’s never too soon.

If we take seriously our commission to make disciples of all nations, we can’t be congregation-centric.  A new kind of Rally Day seems to be called for.

Here are some ideas from churches with a missional culture that I’ve known and loved :

• Rally Day as a community appreciation for First Responders (fire fighters, police officers, EMT volunteers.)  This works well in terms of a positive 9-11 remembrance.  Invite all the local First Responders to a party in their honor in a grocery store parking lot or a very public local park.  Get local businesses to donate things (moon bounce? popcorn machine?  smoothies?) and approach others to donate gift cards to give to those who protect your community – who are probably either volunteers or paid very little. One church I know gives $100 grocery store gift cards to each of their local First Responders.
• Rally Day as a community service event: “Jesus Has Left the Building” Day with 3-5 pre-planned opportunities for serving the community.  After gathering at the church building, individual teams then choose one project and then leave to go serve as a small team by weeding a community garden, picking up trash on the highway, visiting a nursing home, serving dinner in a shelter, making sandwiches for volunteer fire fighters.  Something for everyone.
• Rally Day as a massive community Love Bomb.  Where do people gather on Sunday mornings who are not church people in your town?  Go there.  Take popcicles or coffee or water bottles or whatever.  Be careful with food that not’s pre-packaged.  (Would you take a hotdog from a random stranger in a park?)

The point of all this is basically to get out into the community.  See who’s out there.  Who are they and what do they need?

The point is not to recruit new members or market your church or guilt people who are not sitting in pews at 11 am on Sunday mornings.  Unlike the image posted above, the point is not to achieve “a record attendance.”

Imagine a different kind of Rally Day this time next year.  Yes, it might be double the work to do both a traditional event and a missional event. But the future church focuses on two communities:

1. The people who indeed sit in the pews on Sunday mornings.
2. The people who are out in the world living their lives.

Both are broken in their own way.  Both are sinners and saints.  Both need community.  Both deserve to be loved unconditionally.

Image source.

People who know me know my stories:

• The First Funeral Story
• The Baked Bean Story
• The Spiderman in Mexico Story
• The Heroic Wine Cellar Story
• The Aaronic Blessing in the Mall Story
• The Target Story
• The Joan Benoit at The White House Story
• The Private Parts Drawn on the Paper Towel Story
• The Beautiful Witch Lady Story
• The Brain Tumor Wedding Story
• The Dessert Menu in the Ladies Room Story
• The Exorcism Teacher in the Church Parking Lot Story

I literally have hundreds of them.  They are all true.   And some are amazing, if I may say so myself.

I’m trying to stop the habit of telling other people’s stories and sticking to my own, and this is hardest when it comes to my kids.  I share stories involving them because my kids are exceptional human beings and I want everyone to know. I’m that mom.

But this brings me to a question, and it’s ultimately a spiritual question:

Why Am I Telling This (or any) Story?  It’s a spiritual question, because the answer discloses my insecurities, my human needs, my sinfulness.

• Am I sharing this story so you’ll think that I (or my kids and therefore – again –  I) am incredibly smart/good/clever/important?
• Am I sharing this story to top your story, so that I’ll feel superior?
• Am I sharing this story to bring someone else down?
• Am I sharing this story to make an excuse for myself?
• Am I sharing this story to draw attention to myself for no particular reason?
• Am I telling this story because I know it’s a winner and I’m basically a Myers-Briggs introvert who wants to go home?

I’m trying now – before I tell a story – to ask myself these questions.  Stories are crucial tools for entertaining, explaining, teaching, admiring, and blessing people.  Or they can be used to imply to our listeners that we are, in fact, the prettiest girl in the room.  (I’m speaking to both men and women here.)

It seems to be a good spiritual discipline to ask the question.

Image of Dana Norris, host of the Story Club Chicago.

I have a friend who was recently diagnosed with “the good kind of cancer.”  In other words, her every molecule is not ravaged with organ-eating cells that require drenching her innards in chemicals to the point of utter despair.

Is it ever okay to say that some cancer is “the good kind”?

The most optimistic among us could say, in given circumstances . . .

“I have the good kind of depression.”  (It only happens situationally like when my loved ones all die in a fiery crash?)

“I have the good kind of unemployment.”  (I happen to be independently wealthy and don’t mind hanging out all day feeling adrift?)

“I have the good kind of existential loneliness.” (There are people who actually do understand me, but they’re all on vacation?)

“I have the good kind of homelessness.”  (I sleep on a different friend’s sofa every night?)

There is no good cancer.  Depression, unemployment, loneliness, homelessness are never good.  God can use horrendous situations for good.  But some things are never good in and of themselves.

This is a dangerous thing to suggest to friends in crisis.  Pastoral Care 101 involves allowing people to feel what they feel.  It’s not our job to say, “At least this is the good kind of nuclear winter.”  Better idea:  Sit in the total suckiness with them and love them gently.  Do their laundry.  Make them a salad.

Image is Job and His Friends by Vladimir Borovikovsky (1810s)

Are people poor because they are not very intelligent?

Or are people not very intelligent because they are poor?

Conventional wisdom in our nation  – at least among some of us – has been that people are poor because they are not very smart.  They make foolish choices.  They are not committed to self-improvement.  They are not well-educated.

This story on NPR refers to a recent study by Ivy League smarties which indicates that poor people are just as intelligent as rich people, but the burdens of worrying about money “scrambles our thinking.”

“Being poor takes up more mental capacity,” says Eldar Shafir.   This makes total sense to me.

HH and I randomly and happily remind ourselves these days that we are no longer paying both a mortgage (for a house we weren’t living in) and rent (for a house we are living in.) The daily anxiety of carrying this financial load, along with college tuition and other responsibilities was a constant heaviness in our lives.  When you’re always thinking about how to juggle expenses, it’s almost impossible to be creative.  Honestly, we drive into our (one) driveway these days and feel energized just knowing we can manage.  Owing more money than we have makes us exhausted.  And a bit addled.

One of the hallmarks of following Jesus is caring for the poor and oppressed.  It makes us more Christ-like.  And it will make people Christ loves a little bit smarter.  This I believe.

Image source.

A friend  told me recently that on her octogenarian Mom’s birthday, she

• Took her Mom out to dinner.
• Took Mom to run errands (since she no longer drives)
• Gave her Mom a flowering plant.

At the end of a nice day, Mom turned to her daughter, visibly upset, and said, “I’m a little disappointed you didn’t send me a card.”

Maybe 80-something Mom is rude.  Maybe the postal carrier’s daily visit is the highlight of her day.  Who knows?

But I believe that one of today’s cultural shifts is marked by how much we appreciate greeting cards.  A couple observances and wild generalizations:

• Most people under the age of 50 don’t care about receiving a greeting card in the mail with a one line message and a signature. People under the age of 30 care even less.

• Some people over the age of 50 still love to receive cards delivered by a real postal carrier.

• People with Facebook accounts would rather have 100 personal birthday messages, made possible by Mark Zuckerberg, than receive a couple snail-mailed cards.  Specially chosen Birthday GIFs are particularly appreciated.

• Not everyone loves digital cards. For better or worse, we have a lot of emails to read.  An Evite makes life easier for everybody.  A Halloween card that takes three minutes to download makes life harder.  Perhaps this is obnoxious and ungrateful, but it’s true.

So, what are the implications for community-building and pastoral care in churches?

• Impersonal cards do more harm than good if sent to certain people in our congregations.  Do send cards to older people who enjoy them.  Do not send form letters without authentic pastoral effort to anyone under the age of 70.  Even those 70 and over would probably like to have some real handwritten news with that signature.  (Sad but true story:  I’ve known church Deacons who committed to sending birthday cards to all church members, but they misspelled names or even called the birthday person by the wrong name.  This negates all efforts to offer authentic pastoral care.)

• People want authentic community.  They don’t want cursory form letters  in the hospital.  They don’t want to be A Name a Pastoral Care List. They want authentic compassion.  They don’t want fake, thoughtless, or impersonal.

• We might believe we are actually being real, thoughtful, and personal when we send cards.  But it takes genuine effort to be real, thoughtful, and personal.  Do we care about someone enough to get to know whether or not she prefers greeting cards or Twizzlers?  Maybe he prefers balloons or a cupcake.  Does she want her health situation to be confidential or does she want to be named on The Prayer List?

• If we want to nurture community, we will need to commit time and attention to human beings as individuals.  We have got to know our people.  Depending on the size of the congregation, the pastor cannot possibly know each individual’s story.  And, actually, it’s not the pastor’s job to visit the everybody.  It’s the pastor’s job to teach other church leaders to do pastoral care so that every person in a faith community has at least one or two personal connections.

I don’t mean to criticize the good people who work at Hallmark.  But Hallmark cards are a metaphor for what’s weak about our care for one another.

The card pictured above is from a new line of cards for the unemployed.  For the love of God, if you know people who are unemployed, please cook them dinner or take them out to lunch or go over with warm muffins and coffee and hear their story.  Do not send them a card.  I’m begging you.

Some of us are unspeakably fortunate to be paid to read or think or pray or plan.  We aspire to inspire, or something like that.  

There are others who use different muscles.  They literally lift, haul, build, smooth, clear, and dig.

They make it possible for our churches to meet and do their ministry in houses of worship and Christian nurture.  Let’s remember them today:

• The Bricklayers, Stonemasons, Painters, and Roofers whose efforts give us one of our most important tools for ministry:  the building in which we gather.  (Note: if we are  using our buildings as museums or once-a-week meeting places rather than tools for ministry, our church is dying. No exceptions.)
• The Church Sextons, Janitors, and Groundskeepers who keep things tidy and safe.  (Check out  The Complex Life of a Church Janitor)
• Electricians who light up the nursery, HVAC professionals who ensure the sanctuary has AC, Plumbers who keep the toilets flushing, Carpet Cleaners who keep classrooms fresh.
• The Craftspeople who repair organs, tune pianos, tweak copy machines, and renovate stained glass.

Since the building of Solomon’s Temple, laborers have erected holy gathering places.  Many of these laborers were slaves.  Some have become famous.  Most most are not appreciated nearly enough.  If you are worshiping God today in a space with walls, windows, flooring, doors, AC, electricity, and running water, remember those who labored to make it happen.

Image is of St. Michael’s Roman Catholic Church in Chicago,

A friend of mine shared that her mother regularly repeated this advice:  Don’t Stick Your Hand in the Crazy. This should probably be needlepointed onto a pillow.

Here’s the thing:  many of us intentionally leap gladly into the crazy.  It’s our job. I’m talking to you: social workers, parole officers, middle school guidance counselors, police officers, ER nurses, fire fighters, pastors.  We regularly deal with the ridiculous, the random, the outrageous, the shocking, the twisted.  And we kind of love it.  It sets us free.  It makes things real.

Thanking God this weekend for the privilege of serving positions full of messiness and wonder.

Image source.