Today someone made a comment to me about youth ministry and it's been stuck in my craw (if I have a craw, that is) all day.
The comment went something along the lines of: the youth group is always fund-raising, but it seems like they're never "giving back." The speaker went on to say that the youth are not presenting the Easter sunrise service this year as an example of them "not giving back."
That isn't to say that there won't be a sunrise service; it was just that the youth didn't want to do it this year, so I gave the youth director permission to say "no" ... and someone else picked up the service (it's going to be awesome this year).
The next point: fund raising. I agree that the youth ministry does too much fund-raising, but it's not like they are planning extravagant events. They are fund raising because their budget is extremely low. We are way under the benchmark for youth ministry ($1000/youth, including salary, operations, and ministry budget), so in order to do events (and to have food at youth meetings), the youth end up doing fund raising.
A lot of it.
Too much, if you ask me. Or the youth director. Or the youth themselves.
But to say that they don't "give back" isn't just silly. It's completely missing the point of ministry. When we're talking about youth ministry, we're talking cutting edge ministry. We're talking about kids who wouldn't otherwise be in church. We're talking about their friends who don't have church families, who sometimes hardly have biological families, who are meeting Jesus, who are thousand times more likely to accept Him now than if we try to reach them later.
Not giving back? Since when has that been the criteria for doing ministry, for pouring our hearts, lives, and money into God's work? I'm sure that's what Jesus said one Sabbath; "I don't want to heal that beggar, because all he does is beg, and when has he ever given back? When has he done service projects? I hear he isn't even going to be in the Easter sunrise service this year!"
Would we say about our shut-in members: "I would go visit her in the nursing home, but she never gives back."?
Would we say, "I think we need to shut down the nursery because the little tykes never give back"?
That said, the youth do give back. They come to Jesus. They begin doing ministry. They share Jesus with their friends. They build the freaking church. And when all of us die, the youth will be the ones left. Giving back.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
This Emotional Health series I've been preaching is really, really heavy. I didn't realize how heavy the message on "Embracing Grief and Loss" would be even as I was writing it.
You can read it (and the rest of the series) on my sermon blog.
You can read it (and the rest of the series) on my sermon blog.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Ministry Programming is like Running Shoes
I threw away an old pair of running shoes today. That is harder than it sounds. You see, as a runner, I develop a bond with a pair of running shoes. I wear them for around 500 miles. But after that 500 mile mark (or somewhere more or less than 500), they go flat. After they're flat, I can't wear them or they'll hurt my feet. They still look good; they aren't all torn up or scuffed, and their soles still look good, but that doesn't matter.
They still hurt my feet.
Ministry programming is like running shoes. There comes a time in the life of a program when it needs to be retired. It may still "look" or seem like the thing to do, but it's run its course and instead of growing Christ-followers, it has begun to hurt instead. Maybe it was originally an evangelistic outreach, but it's become an exercise navel gazing. Maybe it worked in 1950, but culture has changed since then.
It isn't easy throwing away an old favorite pair of running shoes, especially one that carried me for a marathon. But the truth is, I run better in a new pair. And (how about that?) they come out with new technology that makes the new pair better than the old pair, not just because the old pair is flat, but better than the old pair... when it was new!
They still hurt my feet.
Ministry programming is like running shoes. There comes a time in the life of a program when it needs to be retired. It may still "look" or seem like the thing to do, but it's run its course and instead of growing Christ-followers, it has begun to hurt instead. Maybe it was originally an evangelistic outreach, but it's become an exercise navel gazing. Maybe it worked in 1950, but culture has changed since then.
It isn't easy throwing away an old favorite pair of running shoes, especially one that carried me for a marathon. But the truth is, I run better in a new pair. And (how about that?) they come out with new technology that makes the new pair better than the old pair, not just because the old pair is flat, but better than the old pair... when it was new!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
The Connection
How connected are we? This is something that I hear asked (usually indirectly - it usually comes in the form of a question like, "Why are our Apportionments so high?" or "What exactly is it that a bishop does? And how much money does s/he get from us?" or "Can we talk to the District Superintendent and ask him/her not to move you?"
Lately we have been "experimenting" with "clusters" (yeah, I know, I know, that's what I thought, too). Which have generally been a distaster. One more mandatory meeting to go and moan and whine, to get not-quite-surface-deep, to one-up colleagues ("how many you worshiping these days?"), or to get sidetracked into meaningless and fruitless discussions.
Oh, and to top it all off, the "clusters" have to be led by a trained cluster leader. Delicious. A couple of years ago, my cluster became defunct, and five of us bucked the system (ok, not really, since one of us was "trained" and we did everything asked of us, and in NW Plains, anyway, the concept of cluster was a very loose one; I don't think Tom Tumblin fully bought into the whole concept as delivered). We made ourselves into a hard core accountability group. We talked, laughed, became friends and brothers, fought, argued, got in each others' faces (when necessary) and really truly lived life together. It took us a year to get there, a year of meeting every week. But it was fantastic.
Meanwhile, the assistant DS met with us by county monthly. I felt connected to the conference through that meeting and, to a pretty decent extent, connected to the clergy in the county.
But then I moved. Once again I was assigned to a cluster, and after one meeting, I decided that it was a waste of my time and gas money (I can spend my accountable reimbursement money elsewhere just as easily). So I joined with a couple of other guys and kind of did a cessessionist's connection kind of thing.
But where I found connection was with other "young clergy" with whom I have been meeting, not because we're told to, but because we want to. We want to encourage one another and get real with one another.
And through this connection, we decided to also collaborate on a sermon series. Honestly I have never had as many authentic positive comments (not just "nice sermon, pastor") about "my" messages as I have during this series. Not in 7 1/2 years of ministry. Combined. It has been a fantastic experience, and through it, I believe we are experiencing real connection.
How connected are we? This is something that I hear asked (usually indirectly - it usually comes in the form of a question like, "Why are our Apportionments so high?" or "What exactly is it that a bishop does? And how much money does s/he get from us?" or "Can we talk to the District Superintendent and ask him/her not to move you?"
Lately we have been "experimenting" with "clusters" (yeah, I know, I know, that's what I thought, too). Which have generally been a distaster. One more mandatory meeting to go and moan and whine, to get not-quite-surface-deep, to one-up colleagues ("how many you worshiping these days?"), or to get sidetracked into meaningless and fruitless discussions.
Oh, and to top it all off, the "clusters" have to be led by a trained cluster leader. Delicious. A couple of years ago, my cluster became defunct, and five of us bucked the system (ok, not really, since one of us was "trained" and we did everything asked of us, and in NW Plains, anyway, the concept of cluster was a very loose one; I don't think Tom Tumblin fully bought into the whole concept as delivered). We made ourselves into a hard core accountability group. We talked, laughed, became friends and brothers, fought, argued, got in each others' faces (when necessary) and really truly lived life together. It took us a year to get there, a year of meeting every week. But it was fantastic.
Meanwhile, the assistant DS met with us by county monthly. I felt connected to the conference through that meeting and, to a pretty decent extent, connected to the clergy in the county.
But then I moved. Once again I was assigned to a cluster, and after one meeting, I decided that it was a waste of my time and gas money (I can spend my accountable reimbursement money elsewhere just as easily). So I joined with a couple of other guys and kind of did a cessessionist's connection kind of thing.
But where I found connection was with other "young clergy" with whom I have been meeting, not because we're told to, but because we want to. We want to encourage one another and get real with one another.
And through this connection, we decided to also collaborate on a sermon series. Honestly I have never had as many authentic positive comments (not just "nice sermon, pastor") about "my" messages as I have during this series. Not in 7 1/2 years of ministry. Combined. It has been a fantastic experience, and through it, I believe we are experiencing real connection.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
So Why Do I Stay?
I do get questioned about staying in the UMC. Friends wonder when I'll "come back" to the non-denominational Christian Church (where I grew up and where I was ordained). Friends wonder how I can stay in a denomination that has often ignored the important for the urgent. Where the loudest voices shout about things that are secondary. Where adherance to Christian standards seems secondary to being "open" (minds, doors, hearts, anyone?). Where even adhering to denominational doctrinal standards seems "open to consideration." Where numbers are declining rapidly. Where cultural Methodism often takes precidence over historical Methodist practices. Where Boards of Ordained Ministry are often rude and cruel to candidates who have given their lives to follow a call to ministry (there are posts about this all over the blogosphere - look for them; the stories aren't pretty).
Quite simply, I stay because I believe this is where God wants me.
The obedience (or possible lack thereof) of the denomination does not excuse me from obedience. I believe in the movement that John and Charles Wesley started. I believe in their call to holiness (social and personal - the two cannot be separated). I believe in doing life together (which we are trying to do through our cell group ministry).
I stay because God is using me here.
I stay because I believe God can use the current crisis in the UMC to bring about His changes, to help us be about His work.
I stay because I believe that God can and will continue to work through the United Methodist Church.
I stay because I'm in a local church where God is moving in powerful ways.
That's why I stay.
I do get questioned about staying in the UMC. Friends wonder when I'll "come back" to the non-denominational Christian Church (where I grew up and where I was ordained). Friends wonder how I can stay in a denomination that has often ignored the important for the urgent. Where the loudest voices shout about things that are secondary. Where adherance to Christian standards seems secondary to being "open" (minds, doors, hearts, anyone?). Where even adhering to denominational doctrinal standards seems "open to consideration." Where numbers are declining rapidly. Where cultural Methodism often takes precidence over historical Methodist practices. Where Boards of Ordained Ministry are often rude and cruel to candidates who have given their lives to follow a call to ministry (there are posts about this all over the blogosphere - look for them; the stories aren't pretty).
Quite simply, I stay because I believe this is where God wants me.
The obedience (or possible lack thereof) of the denomination does not excuse me from obedience. I believe in the movement that John and Charles Wesley started. I believe in their call to holiness (social and personal - the two cannot be separated). I believe in doing life together (which we are trying to do through our cell group ministry).
I stay because God is using me here.
I stay because I believe God can use the current crisis in the UMC to bring about His changes, to help us be about His work.
I stay because I believe that God can and will continue to work through the United Methodist Church.
I stay because I'm in a local church where God is moving in powerful ways.
That's why I stay.
Why I Stay in the United Methodist Church: the background
It's no secret that I was not raised in the UMC; in fact, in seminary at Asbury, the last thing I wanted to be affiliated with was the UMC. But somehow I ended up here. The UMC is a denomination in decline, yet there are plenty of us who are sticking with the UMC, not just because "we've always been Methodist" but for other reasons. I'm joining in the young clergy conversation, started here, about why I stay in the United Methodist Church.
Again, I didn't start out UMC. I didn't want to be here. But I came anyway when beckoned. A professor in seminary steered me toward Ohio and I (after praying about it) came to a UMC in the Columbus area. It was overall not that great of a situation; I even perceived when determining whether to go or not that there were a whole lot of "cons" as opposed to few "pros" involved. Yet I still felt like God was calling me to go.
Though I believe that I did some significant ministry there for God, it sucked the life out of me. Toward my third year there, in my prayers (as I have been reminded as I re-read my journal from that time), I asked God to let me leave. His answer was "wait" (the worst answer an impatient person can receive).
I still don't know why He asked me to wait, but I did.
When I finally was given "permission" to leave, I started looking elsewhere (within and outside the denomination). I interviewed at several churches and made several short lists. Then I got the call that I was being moved. I hadn't requested a move within the conference, and it was quite a shock that one had been requested for me.
I moved because I had voluntarily agreed to become obedient to the denominational authority. Thus I had a sudden, surprising, and unplanned move to New Knoxville. On paper, it looked like my gifts and skills were just what NK wanted; in reality that was more or less paper (as an aside, it looks like their new pastor is really fitting in well in that church). Through all of the pain, the time in NK was an important time for me, a time of healing and forgiveness.
But as it was coming time to move again, I told my district superintendent (who was ironically the same seminary professor who had steered me toward Ohio) that he had "one more chance." I think that this move was perfect for me and that the "on paper" description actually matched the desires, needs, and character of the church.
It's no secret that I was not raised in the UMC; in fact, in seminary at Asbury, the last thing I wanted to be affiliated with was the UMC. But somehow I ended up here. The UMC is a denomination in decline, yet there are plenty of us who are sticking with the UMC, not just because "we've always been Methodist" but for other reasons. I'm joining in the young clergy conversation, started here, about why I stay in the United Methodist Church.
Again, I didn't start out UMC. I didn't want to be here. But I came anyway when beckoned. A professor in seminary steered me toward Ohio and I (after praying about it) came to a UMC in the Columbus area. It was overall not that great of a situation; I even perceived when determining whether to go or not that there were a whole lot of "cons" as opposed to few "pros" involved. Yet I still felt like God was calling me to go.
Though I believe that I did some significant ministry there for God, it sucked the life out of me. Toward my third year there, in my prayers (as I have been reminded as I re-read my journal from that time), I asked God to let me leave. His answer was "wait" (the worst answer an impatient person can receive).
I still don't know why He asked me to wait, but I did.
When I finally was given "permission" to leave, I started looking elsewhere (within and outside the denomination). I interviewed at several churches and made several short lists. Then I got the call that I was being moved. I hadn't requested a move within the conference, and it was quite a shock that one had been requested for me.
I moved because I had voluntarily agreed to become obedient to the denominational authority. Thus I had a sudden, surprising, and unplanned move to New Knoxville. On paper, it looked like my gifts and skills were just what NK wanted; in reality that was more or less paper (as an aside, it looks like their new pastor is really fitting in well in that church). Through all of the pain, the time in NK was an important time for me, a time of healing and forgiveness.
But as it was coming time to move again, I told my district superintendent (who was ironically the same seminary professor who had steered me toward Ohio) that he had "one more chance." I think that this move was perfect for me and that the "on paper" description actually matched the desires, needs, and character of the church.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Thoughts on Sabbath
While at the National Pastors Convention, Rudy and I met a cool guy named Wes. I've started reading his blog (it's on my Google Reader), not just because Wes is a cool guy (which he is), but mostly because Wes is a very good thinker and is also excellent at expressing his thoughts in blog-form.
An example of his excellence is his recent post on Sabbath. It isn't just about work or not work. It's about our identity. The current economic state should stand as a stark reminder that we have sought our identity in the wrong things (and continue to do so).
Now stop reading my blog and immediately go to Wes' and read his post on Sabbath.
While at the National Pastors Convention, Rudy and I met a cool guy named Wes. I've started reading his blog (it's on my Google Reader), not just because Wes is a cool guy (which he is), but mostly because Wes is a very good thinker and is also excellent at expressing his thoughts in blog-form.
An example of his excellence is his recent post on Sabbath. It isn't just about work or not work. It's about our identity. The current economic state should stand as a stark reminder that we have sought our identity in the wrong things (and continue to do so).
Now stop reading my blog and immediately go to Wes' and read his post on Sabbath.
Friday, March 06, 2009
In Case You Thought They Would Rebuild it Without the Ghosts...
Our neighborhood haunted house was recently dismantled (presumably by the very same denizens of the undead realm who so recently had caused distress), and the rebuilding has commenced.
I know that most townspeople expect an apparition-free building.
I do not.
Case in point: what (besides scary noises and appearances) characterizes a good haunted house... besides stairways and doors to nowhere?
I present my evidence:
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
If Anyone Wonders Where My Family Stands,
This blog post (originally from a church planter, but absolutely on target for any pastor) says it all.
I love the church, but I didn't marry it. Actually, the Bible refers to the Church as Christ's bride, so if I'm going to cheat on my wife with the church, I'm also messing around with Jesus' betrothed, and that's just wrong.
I'm glad that the people in Millersport are treating my family well. But remember, even though my wife happens to have a role of prayer warrior in the church, it doesn't mean she's your triangle between you and me. She wasn't called to be the pastor; I was. So if there are church issues, you can talk to her if they need prayer, but talk to me if they need pastoral action.
Very quickly, to summarize the post that I linked to:
1. God did not call my wife to pastor this church.
2. She does not need to know everything that happens.
3. She does not need to be at everything.
4. Don't complain about my wife.
5. She serves where she feels called.
6. I don't dump my church problems on her.
7. I don't cheat on her with the ministry.
8. She loves where we are.
9. I don't put financial pressure on her.
10. I date my mate.
11. I made sure she felt called.
12. I protect her.
This blog post (originally from a church planter, but absolutely on target for any pastor) says it all.
I love the church, but I didn't marry it. Actually, the Bible refers to the Church as Christ's bride, so if I'm going to cheat on my wife with the church, I'm also messing around with Jesus' betrothed, and that's just wrong.
I'm glad that the people in Millersport are treating my family well. But remember, even though my wife happens to have a role of prayer warrior in the church, it doesn't mean she's your triangle between you and me. She wasn't called to be the pastor; I was. So if there are church issues, you can talk to her if they need prayer, but talk to me if they need pastoral action.
Very quickly, to summarize the post that I linked to:
1. God did not call my wife to pastor this church.
2. She does not need to know everything that happens.
3. She does not need to be at everything.
4. Don't complain about my wife.
5. She serves where she feels called.
6. I don't dump my church problems on her.
7. I don't cheat on her with the ministry.
8. She loves where we are.
9. I don't put financial pressure on her.
10. I date my mate.
11. I made sure she felt called.
12. I protect her.
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