A Church for Starving Artists

I try to learn from my own mistakes.  But I have learned a lot more from the mistakes of others. 

My call to professional ministry was sparked by three pastors whom I approached for pastoral care – none of whom were very helpful.  Not one even offered to pray with me.   I remember telling a friend that “even I could be a pastor than those guys” and, frankly, I had no designs on ever going to seminary.  But a call was born.

Today – Monday – was my first day in a new position that I feel called to serve – to some extent – because of the mistakes of other church people.  If I’ve come with a special agenda, my agenda is to make it easier for leaders to do what God has called them to do.  And to say no when necessary. 

I’ve witnessed faithful, outside-the-box leaders be subjected to jumping through so many hoops that it crushed their enthusiasm and felt more like hazing than healthy process.  I have a friend who was certified and ready to receive a call, having completed all requirements for ordination, but he was required to be “mentored” for an additional year when church officials were concerned about his tats and piercings.  (Actually, we could use lots more leaders who look like that guy.)

My hope is to encourage a culture of getting out of the way. 

Yes, processes are important.  But perhaps the most important process involves the discernment of the community.  And we have to know each other, we have to be in relationship with  each other before we can discern someone’s gifts and a congregation’s needs.   Healthy spiritual communities ask if a process, a decision, a call will promote the reign of God. 

I’m going to make some mistakes in this job.  My hope is that somebody will learn from them.

Comments I often hear out in the world:

“All religions are basically the same.”  (To these folks, I suggest reading Prothro’s God is Not One: The Eight Rival Religions that Run the World and Why Their Differences Matter.)

“All denominations are basically the same.” 

“It doesn’t really matter what you believe as long as it doesn’t hurt anybody.”

Many of us take theology seriously – not just as an intellectual exercise but as something that impacts the way we live.  Do we base our theology on what we ourselves determine to be right and wrong, or do we live according to some sort of authority beyond ourselves and our personal opinion?

And can we be a spiritual community with those with whom we disagree?

At The Fellowship of Presbyterians meeting in Minneapolis August 24-26, there was much concern about orthodoxy.  What are “the essential tenets” of orthodox Presbyterian theology?  And does the fact that the PCUSA now officially ordains GBLT leaders require those who disagree to make a change in their denominational affiliation?

What’s not helpful:  Assuming that anyone who believes that ordaining gays cannot possibly be orthodox.  One of the organizing pastors suggested that we need “a firewall of orthodoxy” to separate those who rightly believe and those who do not.  This makes me a bit uncomfortable.

One of the essential tenets of our faith is that God is sovereign.  God is God and we are not.  It troubles me when any person or group implies that  they absolutely know the mind of God.  One example:

I have a brother who does not believe in the ordination of women.  He is one of the best, most faithful people I know but we disagree about this theological detail.  We can both make sound Biblical reasoning for our positions, but we disagree.  His church doesn’t ordain women.  My church does. 

He believes he’s right.  I believe I’m right.  One of us is wrong.

(Note:  I could also say – with my postmodern hat on – that both of us are right but that’s fodder for another post.)

I believe that some gay Christians are called to serve the church in an official way.  Many of my brothers and sisters in Christ do not believe this.  Both of us can make sound Biblical support for our beliefs.  But one side is wrong. (Unless we are both right – again the postmodern answer.)  

One lovely woman in my Fellowship Gathering Table Group – with whom I disagree – said that she would rather err on the side of righteousness and holiness.  I said that I would rather err on the side of grace and inclusion.  But both of us agreed that we could be wrong about our understanding of what God wants according to scripture in regards to ordaining GBLT believers.

I am not worried about the future of the church.  My denomination or any denomination or no denomination.  Seasons of church life come and go and God always wins.  It’s a very exciting time to be part of the church.  I say let’s make some changes and be generous with our words and property.  And then move on and serve the values of the Reign of God.

Have you ever been a minority in a group of people?  It’s uncomfortable, isn’t it?

Have you ever been pegged (e.g. conservative, middle-aged, blonde, Asian) and then written off as if any single adjective could capture who you are?

Have you ever caught yourself pegging somebody else when, for example,  they use gender exclusive language (“mankind”) or dress a certain way (polyester pant suit) or hail from a certain part of the country (Mississippi)?

So, here I am in Minneapolis for a gathering of The Fellowship of Presbyterians, the folks who brought us this letter back in February.  I wrote a couple of guys involved with the letter to share my thoughts.  And then I signed up to attend this thing.  In the meantime, I was elected to serve on a Presbytery staff so this event turned out to be more than a theological field trip.  It’s sort of my job now to work with pastors and churches that are interested – or intrigued – about doing something dramatically new in our denomination – like maybe leaving the denomination.  Or perhaps creating A New Reformed Body.  You can read details here.

So here are my first thoughts after worship Wednesday evening:

– I feel like a minority in a crowded room of People Not Like Me.  But maybe they are indeed more like me than I now realize or will admit.   

With a nod to Brian McLaren, I self-identify as an evangelical, Reformed, conservative, liberal, green, grappling, postmodern, missional, pastoral, traditional, emergent, mystical follower of Jesus.  And yet, I can feel some people immediately appraising me based on everything from my age and gender to my Blackberry and nametag which erroneously says I’m from Alexandria, VA which means National Capital Presbytery, which means liberal.  Or maybe I’m just paranoid. 

– It’s totally easy to be judgmental here: 

Exhibit A:  we sing gender exclusive songs and I feel the snarkitude rising.   A woman prays “for mankind” and it ticks me off.  Note to self:  pray for a gracious attitude.   

Exhibit B:  I met a well-known leader of this organization in the registration line and I remembered a colleague once telling me that this person was the meanest human being he’d ever known.  Do I take his word for it or try to make a friend?  

Exhibit C:  Where are all the 20 and 30-somethings?  They are not here.  I imagine if they walked by the ballroom during worship tonight, they could have mistaken us for a megachurch gathering – and maybe not in a good way.  Again, I need to pray for a gracious attitude, but honestly it makes me nervous  when people applaud the resurrection. 

Exhibit D:  I realize how much I now believe that the kingdom of God is now.  (Note:  See, I can use gender exclusive language too.)  And it really bugs me when the church considers “the exhibition of the kingdom of heaven to the world” to be about the afterlife.  I believe Jesus was talking about bringing heaven to the world now.  This is the point, if you ask me.

And so here I am at a conference with almost 2000 people from 49 states and 3 countries beyond the US  – according to the handouts – because I love the church.  What do we mean if we say that we love the church?  That we love the tradition?  The building?  The denomination?  No, the church is the people.  We have to love the people even the ones who make us crazy/angry/tired.

I got an email from a former parishioner today telling me that she’s left the church we served in together.  This makes me sad – not because she left but because I doubt she sought out those with whom she disagreed before leaving.  It’s easy to sort outselves from those with whom we disagree.  It’s hard to stay and wrestle and love each other in spite of our differences.  But grappling and staying together seems to be a more Biblical way.

Who is in your congregation?

I’m not asking this of parish pastors alone.  I’m asking this of everyone.  Lobbyist.  Medical student.  First grade teacher.  Game show host.

Imagine being a pastor – professional or not – in your community.  How would this alter the way you interact with people?  My congregation is about to be The Presbytery of Chicago.  This is an overwhelming and yet fascinating endeavor.  I kind of can’t wait.

How about you?  Who are your people?  Whom do you serve?  How do you create community and equip the saints of God.  I’d love to hear about it.

I miss being a pastor. 

What I miss the most, honestly, are the church kids.  I loved it when they hugged me goodbye after worship or when I’d hear a little voice yell , “Pastor Jan! Pastor Jan” in the grocery store.  Or when one of them would ask me a heartfelt question.  I especially liked the ones who no longer liked church.

Our new neighbors in Chicagoland include a family with four children ages 3-11. Their parents have tried to get them to call me “Pastor Jan” but they don’t really call me anything.  My husband is Pastor _ but that makes sense because he is indeed a local parish pastor.  But I’ve been unemployed and feeling like nobody’s pastor.  Until now.

I start a new position (see previous post) and with it comes the clear opportunity to be a pastor to pastors and seminarians and congregations – in a sense – while we try to be the church together.  I’m struck by the wisdom of Eugene Peterson whose memoir all church people should read. 

Some of it speaks of another time when certain devout women felt deeply called to be The Pastor’s Wife and when pastors went door to door inviting people to come to worship.  But much of it is a reminder about what pastors are called to do and be even/especially in the 21st Century Church:

The Pastor’s role is more relationship than functional (which begs the question: can we afford to pay someone to have this special relationship with congregations?)

The Pastor is not a religious “bureaucrat in the time management business for God or a librarian cataloguing timeless truths” (although we spend a lot of time managing time and cataloguing)

The Pastor is not a purveyor of religious goods and services (although a bride once explained to me that – whether I liked it or not – I was one of the vendors at her wedding just like the florist, the organist, and the caterer.  Ouch.)

The Pastor is the one who pays attention to what God is doing and trains others to pay attention.  The Pastor is a witness to the Spirit’s movement and God’s grace.  Others have shared these insights before, but I like the way Peterson puts it.  What I like best in terms of the role of the pastor – my mantra when I denigrate my role to “the fixer” – is from Ephesians 4:  we are called to equips the saints for ministry. 

There is a lot of equipping to do. 

It’s not about Getting Things Done – although the world rewards us for building new education wings and refurbishing the pipe organ.  It’s not about Making Things Happen – although the world rewards us when are rainmakers.  It’s not about making the church Attractive as if we only need to be a pretty/tidy/clean/orderly organization to make God happy.

I can’t wait to be a pastor again, although nobody – not even the neighbor kids – will be calling me Pastor Jan.  That’s okay too.

Photo shows my last day as a parish pastor.  Next I get to be a Presbytery pastor although my job description calls me the IAEPM.

I have a new job.

 It’s not officially a new call because it’s an interim position. And I haven’t “left the ministry” although one person has already suggested that I have.

 On August 29^th I begin a year as the Interim Associate Executive Presbyter for Ministry for the Presbytery of Chicago.  For starters, I need a quick and easy way to share my title without sounding like one of the federal government workers who used to be my neighbors in Our Nation’s Capital. (ie The Assistant Second Advisory Officer for Religious Affairs for the White House Task Force of Faith Affairs and Religious Issues.)  Maybe something like “Interim Pastor with a twist.”

 A couple of years ago in the hallowed halls of the National Cathedral in DC, I was talking with a well known Emerging Church Guy who was introduced to a Presbytery staff member.  The entire encounter seemed to sum up all his problems with The Institutional Church. 

 “What the x#!& is a General Presbyter?” Emerging Church Guy asked me privately and the more I explained it, the more ridiculous I sounded.  My description captured more of the administrivia of the position than the ministry.

 So, here I am the newly elected Interim Associate Executive Presbyter.  This is not something I’ve aspired to do and be, and yet it is strangely right at this time and place. An opportunity to help shift the church in a new way.  Please pray I do it with energy, intelligence, imagination, and – mostly – love.  So pumped.

Although I’ve taken a slight break from posting until I finish one of my writing projects, this day cannot pass without some special recognition.

On this day of our Lord, July 10, 2011 . . .

– I and all my clergy colleagues in the PCUSA become Teaching Elders rather than Ministers of the Word and Sacrament

– My elder friends in the PCUSA become Ruling Elders rather than merely Elders (elders rule!)

– Faithful LGBT teaching and ruling elders can legally serve in all congregations that call them to serve

– My husband, my realtor, and a good friend in Richmond all celebrate birthdays.

– It would have been John Calvin’s 502nd. 

It’s a big day.  Let’s celebrate accordingly to the glory of God.

Note: On Saturday, June 25, 2011, I hit the wrong button and deleted 5 1/2 years of posts in my blog.  After feeling sick for a couple of days, I did what all theological thinkers do:  I wondered why it happened.  Here are my Top Five best hunches:

5.  Because I don’t read the fine print

4.  Because I’m looking for a job (and that post about the fairy princess could come back to bite me)

3.  Because nothing says Moving to A New Place like losing things (still haven’t found the salad forks)

2.  Because God likes Word Press more than Blogger

1.  Because I’m supposed to be writing something else.

In these weeks (months?) before employment, I’m working on two projects and I covet your prayers in the process.  A Church For Starving Artists returns with regular postings asap.  Please check back.

And thanks for reading. Your commentary/words of encouragement still welcomed.