I’m not sure who needs to hear this today, but you are enough.

You, as our Creator God has called you into being, are enough. There is nothing more you can do to make you more worthy or acceptable to our God… you are enough.

Of course, there is room for improvement. You can pick up your socks, recycle more, eat less processed food. You can work on your relationship with others, especially when it comes to giving (and receiving) forgiveness. That list of things you need to work on, however, is not related to your validity as a Child of God.

You. Are. Enough.

This, my friends, is very different from believing you are Everything or that old “God only gives you what you can handle”.

The trap is there for all of us, but my hunch is those of us in church leadership find it easier to believe that we need to be everything before we can ever be enough. We measure our worth on the number of individuals who depend on us, or the achingly long list of “to-do’s”. We push through pain in the belief that this was what God had intended for our lives. We will pick ourselves up by our own bootstraps and soldier on because that’s what God wants.

One of the first stories in the Bible is the creation of humanity. If we could read the story in Hebrew we’d delight in the puns (well, I delight in puns… but that’s me) as the author speaks of “the human” (ha adam) who is brought up out of the earth (adamah). The story continues with the creation of someone who will be a helpmate for the human – and the word that is used to describe helpmate (ezer) is the same word that in the rest of Hebrew scriptures is used to describe God. 

We are not meant to do this life alone. Our very foundation is the very being of God, but we have been given helpmates. They are amongst those in our closest circle, our pastors, our therapists, our coaches. WE are not meant to be Everything. We can’t be Everything. 

We are enough.

There is no weakness in finding helpmates. It doesn’t mean we aren’t good enough, or strong enough. We are created to need one another, and God has provided us with the gift of community. These next few months may be more difficult than we can imagine, and I believe we are not meant to do them alone. 

May God be with us all… and may we each be there for one another.

Today someone asked me what it was like to be named Karen at a time when that name has become synonymous with women who have a reputation of complaining to the manager. Apparently, my name has slipped in popularity from #4 the year of my birth to #1784 in 2021. Almost one-third of that loss occurred in the past year.

There are some things that are beyond our control.

I’ve contemplated going by the initial K, or perhaps adopting an arcane sign as an homage to Prince. Mostly I’ve learned to live with it. Sure, it’s not ideal, and I’d be fibbing if I told you I wasn’t looking forward to the time when this was all memory, but it is what it is. 

We do this, don’t we? We assess what is beyond our control and we move beyond it. We ask God for the wisdom to know what is ours to work on and what is not, and we do the best we can with the hand we’ve been dealt. 

It’s not just what we decide to do that matters, however. It’s also why and how we do it.

As a Karen™, I could reinforce the image of my brand and yell at those who poke fun at my name. I could opt to absolutely ignore it and go with my middle name (although when I changed that from Ruth to Cronenberger, I killed that option). Or I could figure out ways to live with it. I’ve chosen this option (although I do reserve the right to complain when it is warranted!).

The rise of the Delta variant suggests we are entering a new phase of the pandemic. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We were supposed to have a summer of easing back into our communities followed by a fall season that looked more like 2019 than 2020. We’ve planned family vacations, choir anthems, and have stocked our shelves with coffee for fellowship hour. We are ready to return – desperately ready.

Some things are beyond our control…. but we do have some ability (and responsibility) to choose how we respond. 

This is not the same as last year. Then we had a bit more clarity about what needed to be done. This time around it seems there is less agreement about expectations and willingness to tolerate risk. Some of our congregations have plans in place to return to virtual worship once a particular threshold is met, others plan to continue with hybrid worship for the foreseeable future. Some congregations are ready to live with it. Each community makes choices based on their own specific context and risk tolerance levels.

My prayer is that the conversations and debates that we are having around pandemic strategies occur at a level deeper than discussing which windows we leave open. What we do and how we do it says so much about who (and Whose) we are. As you look back on the last 16 months, what have you learned about the values of your congregation? What has surprised you? What would you change? What have your actions said about your congregation’s priorities? What would your neighborhood say about your congregation during this time?

There are always things beyond our control, and at the same time there are always things you can control.Focus on the latter before you complain to the manager.

If it would be helpful to talk things through – I’m back from vacation on August 16^th. You remain in my prayers.

When we moved into our current apartment we were informed by our downstairs neighbor (a gem!) that there had been a leak in the roof that created a torrential gush of water that moved through our second-floor apartment to the ground floor. Walls were damaged, floors were soaked: it was a mess. Maintenance repaired the roof, tidied up all the impacted apartments and all was well.

A month or so after moving in, we noticed a pervasive mildewy smell in the kitchen. The new maintenance guy couldn’t locate the source at first, but he finally discovered it and replaced the impacted wood. A water stain on the ceiling in the adjacent bedroom (my office) was also noticed but deemed to be harmless.

In the movie version of this story, the music would begin to sound ominous.

There is a closet in my office that we open so rarely, our keyboard sits in front of it. It’s filled to the brim with the sorts of things we don’t use on a regular basis: decorations, tools, and sundry craft supplies. Three weeks ago, I opened the door, and the smell was powerful. The black stains on the ceiling told the rest of the story.

What followed was several maintenance folks looking at it, a promise that roofers have been called, sealant sprayed on the offending surface (that lasted a few days before the black bloom returned) and my sealing the closet off with plastic sheeting and tape.

Stuff like this happens all the time, doesn’t it? 

How deep we go in terms of addressing a problem depends on our understanding of the situation as well as our resources. A major roof leak probably required bringing in professionals to not only seal the roof, but to make certain the space in-between was completely dry, but I also appreciate that this sort of armchair appraisal is much easier than making decisions that impact a bottom-line. The challenge is that some things need to be addressed or they will reappear – and often at times of stress.

Over the last fifteen months, the stress of the pandemic has surfaced other older issues in congregations and in society. Conflicts that were buried, misconduct that was ignored or hushed, and unresolved problems with leadership are beginning to break through to the surface. These old problems must be addressed. Replacing a few boards (or board members?), may have worked once or twice but will not solve the issue. Painting over the problem may have worked in the past, but an organization that keeps secrets will find it difficult to preach truth.

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Disclaimer: the danger in using real-life, real-time anecdotes is that it 

a) borders on the narcissistic 

b) suggests you don’t get out much and 

c) invites folks to offer assistance.

I’m hoping (a) isn’t true even if (b) certainly is. Please don’t worry about (c). I think things are now progressing appropriately.

It was only a few months ago that I found myself longing to turn to my favorite news sites and to read something other than COVID. Today I’m reminded of the warning to be careful what you pray for. 

Haiti. Cuba. Lebanon. South Africa. Iraq. From presidential assassinations to political uprisings, it feels as if these parts of the world are on fire. Closer to home, dentists are saying there has been a marked increase in teeth grinding and general practitioners have reported an uptick in chronic stress related illnesses. 

All of the above are perhaps not directly related to the pandemic, but it wouldn’t take much to find a causal relationship between the two. Speaking of relationships… there is no doubt this has also spilled into our relationships with one another as well. Divorce rates may have dropped during the pandemic as people clung to one another, but experts expect a surge as we re-enter our new reality. The “great resignation” suggests folks have had months to examine their commitments to work and volunteer opportunities and will take the next few months for rebalancing. It’s as if the world has gone topsy-turvy.

I anticipate things will be a bit antsy these next few months within our congregations as well. The time we’ve spent away from our buildings may have raised questions of value and purpose and power. We’re questioning anew not just what we do as the church, but who we are.

Don’t run from those questions. 

These last 15 months of doing something differently have taught us much about what it means to be the church… if we are willing to take time as leadership to digest that information. Don’t miss this opportunity: God willing, it won’t happen again.

There are a few axioms that are part of Presbyterian canon. “Decently and in Order” is perhaps the most beloved, but there are others that work their way into the common work we do. I’ve always been a fan of “Frozen Chosen”, until a good friend pointed out that in his experience we were becoming “Awed and Thawed” (the jury on that is still out!).

“Trust the Process” may be for me not so much a statement of known truth as it is a prayer. The “Process” is the agreed upon means to get from one place to another. Because of our constitution (both parts!) we aren’t constantly reworking the larger processes. We elect folks who make decisions and ask them to do three things – to bring their very best gifts, to listen closely to the others at the table, and to discern the movement of the Spirit. 

When it works? When it works you know you are standing on holy ground. It’s a shoes-off moment. There is a feeling of hope and confidence and a deep joy that is not dependent on the nature of the decision… but in the knowledge that the decision was well-made. How I hope you know this joy, even when the decisions are difficult.

When it doesn’t work, my hunch is that it isn’t because the process failed us, but because we failed the process. There are so many ways we sabotage our work together:

• We lean on the same leadership. Perpetually.
• All the leadership looks the same
• The real decisions are made in the parking lot
• The pastor calls the shots – whether they want to or not
• There are voices at our meetings other than those elected to be there
• We focus on what we want for our church… and not what God wants for God’s church
• We hold grudges and construct turf wars
• There’s an agreed upon process… and then there is the one we follow
• We fill seats on our boards instead of looking for folks with gifts
• Leadership training is relegated to a few hours
• We’ve tweaked the process to accommodate our context to the point where it is not recognizable

Of course, there are times when our process is broken. It’s fitting that we have a process to correct our process, no? We reform our Constitution constantly… even now there are Presbyterian siblings who are crafting overtures to our General Assembly for that very purpose.

All these processes exist for one purpose – to assist congregations in bringing the Good News to the communities in which they serve. May you know this joy as well!

I’ve recently become reacquainted with doubt.

Years ago, I learned to not fear doubt… we all have doubt from time to time. I hold fast to Tillich’s understanding that doubt is not the opposite of faith, rather it is a component of faith. In other words, I have doubt, only because I have faith. What is amazing is how those two things can coexist in my brain.

What am I doubting these days?

All sorts of things. From my wisdom to plant a garden prior to erecting a deer fence to a variety of decisions that have me questioning my sanity. One of my favorite memes is the quip: “Everything in life happens for a reason. Sometimes that reason is that I made a bad decision”. Doubt, at least for me, tends to run in cycles.

One of the reasons we Presbyterians center our polity on mutual discernment (via a representational democracy) is because it doesn’t negate personal doubt, but rather complements it. When an Elder brings to the Session table concerns (or doubts) about a decision, those concerns are heard and weighed against other inputs. We listen to one another’s wisdom and doubts and passions… and we listen for the Spirit breathing through them. God uses the doubts of one or two sitting at the table to refine a proposal and make it more sound. I’ve seen this happen at the meetings of Session and Congregations as well as with a body as large as our General Assembly. Certainly, God uses our faith… but what an amazing thing it is when God uses our doubts as well.

We continue to minister in a time where there is so much unknown, and undoubtedly(!) a fair amount of doubt. The pandemic has waned, but there continues to be lingering concern that it may not be done with us yet. Some church members cannot wait to return to regular in-person gatherings, whereas others have found worship from their couch to be a better fit. We discuss and debate topics that just two years ago weren’t even on our radar.

So much uncertainty. So much doubt.

Remember Tillich. Doubt is a component of faith. 

Might we use our doubts to be more faithful in our decision-making? I imagine if we were to do that, it would require us to listen deeply to those who express their concerns. It might mean putting aside our own certainty so that we could hear the voice of the other as clearly as possible. It would require us to be silent for a bit, and to listen for the Spirit speaking through the doubts and concerns of those we disagree with. It might be incredibly holy. It might look an awful lot like church.

Come doubt with me. Come share this faith.

I’ve recently discovered the music of Carrie Newcomer. I know, I know… so many people I trust have recommended her to me and I’ve not paid attention. I’m late to the party, but it’s not because I haven’t received multiple invitations!

These last few months I’ve been listening to her “You can do this hard thing” on repeat.

The song begins with the image of a young person attempting to do math, and hearing the encouragement of another who says, “You can do this hard thing. It’s not easy I know, but I believe that it’s so. You can do this hard thing.”. Other images are introduced, each being followed by the chorus. 

I weep each time I hear it. There is something about having someone acknowledge that the work is difficult combined with the promise that you have what you need to accomplish it that task. It’s the voice of a good parent, a good friend… and I believe these words resonate with the Gospel as well.

The bridge of the song includes a variation of Art Berg’s “While the difficult takes time, the impossible just takes a little longer”. There’s wisdom in knowing the difference between the two as well as wisdom in discerning what we are being called to do. 

In other words, I embrace that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me, but I’m not convinced that Christ is calling me to do all the impossible things… if that makes sense?

As we emerge from the pandemic (I’m still holding my breath… and wearing a mask!) re-entry may be harder than we thought. There’s such joy at gathering in-person, but there may also be lingering anxiety…. which means we will need to be doubly gracious. No doubt we’ve also learned a bit about our work as the church, and that will bring up further questions (and debates!). It’s been wonderful extending the possibilities of virtual worship to those previously excluded, but are we willing to look beyond the occasional awkward moments as cameras are moved and sound is adjusted? These can be hard (but not impossible!) discussions at a time when all we want is that experience of joy.

Some congregations are facing more difficult… if not impossible questions. The first step is discerning if these are indeed the questions we should be raising. Staffing changes, shifts in mission emphasis, questions about the viability of church buildings – impossible things? Or are these questions whose answers will take a bit longer to resolve?

You can do this hard thing. It’s not easy, I know… but I believe that it’s so. You can do this hard thing.

Prayers for us all as we approach all the hard and impossible questions. If I can take this journey with you, please let me know.

Dear Friends,

Over the Great Fifty Days of Eastertide, I’ve shared what I believe to be misconceptions of the church. Undoubtedly, I missed a few, but Pentecost is around the corner, the Wind is picking up, and there are other things that deserve our attention. Seven weeks of someone suggesting you are a bit off base is quite enough, right?

Ecclesiastical Misconception #7 – We are not enough

I love sitting around a table with church leaders and meeting them for the first time. These are individuals who are giving of their time and talent in a volunteer capacity and who often arrive at the table after a full day of responsibilities. If it is an evening meeting, some have chowed down on supper in the car, or will have it waiting for them to microwave when they return (or they will sneak bites during Zoom). From the very beginning of the church, God has called folks from a range of backgrounds and experiences and it is downright humbling to sit at the leadership table with them.

Sometimes it’s also puzzling. 

It’s almost as if there is a disconnect between what church leadership does in their day-to-day lives and what gifts they share at the table. It’s not exhaustion or over-extension (although there is no doubt that is real), but it seems in some cases as if all that life experience is checked at the door because they feel that it has no place in church leadership. 

It makes me wonder if that unseen barrier works both ways. If folks aren’t bringing their lives to the leadership table at church, are they bringing their faith to the other tables they encounter every day, such as the boardroom and supper table? 

I believe the church has been given all it needs to do the ministry it was called to do in this particular place and time. We are enough – because we do not do this work alone. We are enough when we bring our whole selves to this ministry because we’ve all been given different gifts.

In his article, The Liturgy of Abundance, The Myth of Scarcity^[i], Walter Bruggeman tackles a theology of scarcity from an economic stance stating that there is always enough if we share. I believe Pentecost pushes us to live into a theology of abundance that is not only economic but reflects the fullness of our lives. We are to bring everything to the work of sharing the Gospel. Not just our wallets. Not just our Sunday selves. The whole sum of who we are.

Isaac Watts, the great writer of hymns captures this perfectly in the final verse of “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross”: “Were the whole realm of nature mine, that were a present far too small. Love, so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all”.

As the Spirit continues to blow through our churches and our lives… may we remember by the grace of God we are enough.

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^[i] Brueggemann, W. (1999). The liturgy of abundance, the myth of scarcity. Christian Century, 116(10), 342-347.

I’ve addressed this misconception previously:  (Here!) – but it’s a song that still needs to be sung, so here goes…

Ecclesiastical Misconception #6: The Church is a Business

I believe we become confused because there are things in common between businesses and churches (spreadsheets, budgets, etc.). Yet, the same folks who assert that the church is a business would likely never say the same about a family, and yet many families I know have budgets. There are others I know that SHOULD have budgets, but that’s for another day.

This argument on my part was countered once by someone who stated that the difference was the presence of employees… that having employees is what made something a business. Ironic in that I knew the young woman who was currently his babysitter and being paid quite well for her efforts. I know (I hope?) he’d never consider his family a corporation.

A better, if not perfect metaphor, is to describe the church as a family. Certainly, it’s the metaphor underlying the scripture where Paul refers to us siblings. Some denominations even lean on that imagery in how they title their leaders (Father/Mother and Brother So-and-So).

Does all this matter?

It does in that one of the implicit goals of a business is to remain in business… something which doesn’t work well with the sacrificial understanding of the church spreading the Gospel even at the risk of its own life.^[1]

It does in that how we see ourselves as a body changes how we see those next to us in the pew as well as those outside the walls. All too often the undercurrent of evangelism is not the hope of sharing the Good News of Jesus Christ but instead the desire to bring in more energy/money to sustain our own fellowship.

It does in that there are things family will do for one another – things that family will put up with – that show that the grace of God is the bottom line. Businesses often can’t afford grace, family depends on it.

Next time you find yourself sitting in a pew (may that be soon!) think about how you are connected to those around you… as well as those outside the doors. Business partners/clients… or family?

May grace abound.

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^[1] Book of Order, F-1.0301  “The Church is to be a community of faith, entrusting itself to God alone, even at the risk of losing its life.”

Doctor Who travels throughout space and time in something called the TARDIS^[1]. If that weren’t marvelous enough, it is actually bigger on the inside than the outside, thanks to the inside existing in another dimension.

Ecclesiastical Misconception #5 is the belief that the church is the opposite, i.e., that we are smaller on the inside than we appear. Certainly, if you were to take a measuring tape, you’d find that the inside dimensions of any building are smaller than the external dimensions, however the church is not a physical building (if the last year or so has taught us anything… it has taught us that!)

We CAN be bigger on the inside than we appear, and yet we continue to make decisions as churches that limit who we let in. There have been times in our history where those limitations have been clearly defined  – including balconies for Blacks and blocking the ordination of women and LGBT folks – but there are other limits that we place upon the church that keep us small. 

Today we limit the church by making choices that favor the preferences of the folks already in our pews. Let’s say your church worships on Sunday mornings at 10 a.m. but you learn that the community outside the doors would prefer worshipping on Sunday nights at 7 p.m.  One argument against starting a second service is that it might “split our community”. Of course, if you consider the folks outside the walls as members of the community, it could be argued that the community is already split into those who attend… and those who don’t. 

We tend to make decisions based on the needs of the existing congregation in part because we know them (because we ARE them). We need those reliable saints that already give of their time, talent, and treasure to continue giving. Why would we choose to jeopardize their offerings? Why should any organization risk the ninety-nine givers to reach out for the one outside the fold who is either a “none” or “done”?^[2]

Yes, I know. It doesn’t make sense. It’s foolish. It’s sacrificial. It’s being the church.

When we make decisions based on the existing/giving congregation we are settling for a congregation that is exactly as it appears: smaller on the inside than it is on the outside. When practice the spiritual discipline of asking how our decisions might exclude those outside our inner circle from participating, we can become so much bigger than anyone could have imagined. Even if we end up not changing out time of worship, we may discover our hearts are also a bit bigger than they first appeared as well.

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^[1] Time And Relative Dimension in Space

^[2] “Nones” are those who have no experience of church; “Dones” are those who have had experience within the church and for one reason or another, are DONE with it.