A Day in the Community

One thing I am learning about ministry in Bixby Knolls:  it's good to be involved in the community.  Unfortunately, making connections with the community isn't something I learned in seminary.  I'm not even sure it's something that can be learned in seminary, which means it's "learn as you go."

My day yesterday began early at It's a Grind, a coffee shop "born and raised in Long Beach" (as it says on the door).  I placed my reusable mug on the counter and ordered a green tea.  They like it when I bring my own mug, although they're not always sure what size it should be rung up as.  Today I lucked out:  I was charged for a small.

I settled into a chair and began reading a book by Diana Butler Bass, which I bought after hearing her speak last week in San Diego.  I also re-read parts of a book on Tithing by Douglas LeBlanc that I thought might be useful for an upcoming sermon.  Thanks to my Kindle, I can carry many books at once with ease.

At one point, I heard a voice say "Good morning."  I looked up, saw Blair Cohn (who runs the Bixby Knolls Business Improvement Association), and returned the greeting.  My church's boy scout troop has worked with Blair and the BKBIA on several occasions when scouts have organized Eagle service projects that involved landscaping public space in the community.

At 9:15 I left It's a Grind, hopped on my bike and rode down to Staples to purchase some church supplies.  then I headed back to Bixby Towers to visit a church member.  Following that, I rode around the corner to the boy scout council office, to talk with one of the district executives, Marc Bonner, about placing an ad in the program book for the South Coast Interfaith Council benefit concert and unity dinner.  The council wants more boys to become scouts, and also wants to promote itself as an interfaith organization, while SCIC promotes peace and understanding among different faiths; as an SCIC board member as well as a registered scouter, connecting the two organizations seemed natural.

Leaving the council office, I rode one block to Bella Cosa, one of my favorite stores in town, to see if they would like to donate an item to the silent auction that will take place at the SCIC Unity Dinner.  Unfortunately they had to decline, but I did get to meet and have a nice conversation with Christy, the owner, which I enjoyed.

Walking out of Bella Cosa, my stomach told me it was time for lunch, so I stopped at Georgie's Place for a gyro before heading to church.

On Friday, I'll be back on Atlantic Avenue, this time at Averyboo Arts.  Natalie, the owner, has again invited Troop 29 to sell popcorn outside during First Fridays.  This time, in addition to selling popcorn, I'm going to show some slides highlighting the various service projects Troop 29 has done in Bixby Knolls.

Being the introvert that I am, I don't know how I ever managed to begin making these types of connections; and I say "begin" because I expect that these connections will grow stronger and more numerous in the future.  I'm not a social person, and am surprised at how much I am enjoying making these connections.

I don't know how I've made these connections, but I do know why.  As a pastor of a church taht identifies itself as "a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world," I recognize that the world begins in one's own community, and strong connections and relationships help bring wholeness to that community.  As an introverted person in an introverted church, it would be very easy to remain isolated from those around me.  But without connections and relationships, none of us are whole.

Heat

Yesterday was the hottest day in recorded history for Los Angeles:  113 degrees.  It was almost as hot here in Long Beach (109).

BTW, I didn't hike up the hills to take this picture in record breaking heat; it was taken last year, on a much cooler day.

Tales of a Popcorn Colonel

Today is the final day of a clergy conference I've been attending in San Diego.  I've not been in my office much this week, which is just as well:  it's gotten a little crowded in there, due to boxes of popcorn stacked against one wall.  It's there because, for the second year in a row, I am the popcorn "colonel" for boy scout troop 29.

It's a task none of the other parents seem to want. Admittedly, it is "yet another fundraiser," although it is the only one of its type for troop 29.  However, since I'm not able to attend many of the troop's weekend outings (due to my Sunday morning commitments), organizing the popcorn sale is something I can do.

And so, at a recent troop 29 parents meeting, I stood to explain why I thought selling popcorn is actually a good thing.  Seventy percent of the money, I said, goes to scouting.  Of that seventy percent, half goes to the council office, and half goes directly into the individual scout's account, which he can use to pay for outings.  (Each troop decides how it wants to use its half of the 70%; this is how troop 29 does it.)  In addition, each scout who sells popcorn gets a gift card which he can use to purchase camping gear, which, in essence, increases the percentage he gets for himself.

Then I told the parents that if their sons hope to earn the rank of Eagle Scout, each one will be required to plan and implement a major service project.  A part of that planning and implementation will involve raising the money necessary to fund the project.  In addition, as adults they may find themselves in situations where they are required to ask for money.

It just so happens that, in addition to organizing the popcorn sale, I am currently helping to guide my congregation through its annual stewardship campaign, which involves asking people to commit their money to the ministry of the church.  Raising funds for a cause you believe in, I told those parents, is an essential life skill.

I concluded by telling the parents that we're not really selling popcorn.  When public radio or TV stations conduct pledge drives, they give out mugs and tote bags and other paraphernalia, but they're not really selling mugs and tote bags; the mugs and tote bags are "thank-you gifts" given to their supporters.  What we're doing, I said, is asking people to invest in scouting, to help scouts go to camp and develop leadership skills ... and the popcorn is more of a thank-you gift.  Granted, it's a great gift -- this popcorn is delicious, especially the chocolatey-caramel popcorn! -- but what we're selling is scouting.

I finished talking and took my seat.  As I did, I was startled by the applause.  It was the only time during the meeting that anyone clapped their hands.  Clearly, the applause means that when it comes to being popcorn colonel, I have an incredibly high level of job security.

So anyway, I now have boxes of popcorn to be sold.  We'll be selling popcorn on Atlantic Avenue in Long Beach on October 1, in front of Averyboo Arts during "First Fridays."  Most likely, we'll be in front of a grocery store the following week.  If you see us, please buy some.  It will help send scouts to camp.  It will help them develop some important life skills.  But most importantly, it will help me get my office back.

Taking the Train

Starting today, I'll be in San Diego for a 3-day clergy conference.  I'll be taking the train to get there, passing through Dana Point, where my family went camping with friends last spring.

Walking

I don't want to waste your time, so I'll tell you right now:  I'm rambling today.  I don't have much to say, really.  Probably that's because I didn't get any exercise yesterday.  Normally I ride my bike or walk or do some other form of exercise, every day.  Sometimes it's as I commute the one mile from home to my office at church.  Other times it's simply because I feel like it.

Another reason I don't have much to say might be that I checked out a book from the library, started reading it, and couldn't put it down.  Ironically, it was called The Walk.  It's a very intriguing book about a man who lost everything and just decided to go for a walk, one that lasted 3,000 miles. 

Well, I don't actually know if he made it the whole 3,000 miles.  The book ends before his walk does.  But I loved reading about the significant and not-so-significant things he saw on his walk, the people he met and the towns he passed through, people and places he would have missed had he not been walking.

I find walking to be especially relaxing, and a great way to sort out one's thoughts.  Walking is also a great way to develop some ideas for writing.  I've often thought about seeing how far I could walk in a day.  The only reason I don't walk more than I do is time.  There are so many places that I could easily walk to in one day:  the beach, Disneyland, downtown L.A. 

I bet if I walked to one of those places, I'd have something better to write about.

Tomorrow is my day off.  I think I'll go for a walk.  Or a bike ride.  Or both.  Not sure where I'll end up, but I am sure that I'll find my thoughts cleared a little by the time I'm done.

Sunbathing

The Way of Jesus: Bigger Than Any One Religion

It was one of the strangest moments I've ever experienced in sermon preparation.  The words flowed easily, effortlessly, from my mind, through my fingers, and on to the page.  I almost didn't even think about it, until a voice in my head said, "Whoa.  Do you realize what you've written?"

I put down my pencil (yes, I write with a pencil) and read:  "The way of Jesus is bigger than any one religion.  The kingdom of God is bigger than any one religion."

Yikes!  I thought.  I can't say that, can I?  I might as well say that one doesn't have to be a Christian in order to follow Christ.  I might as well say that anyone can come to the Father without being a Christian.  Is that really what I meant?

Where on earth did such a thought come from?

I began reviewing my train of thought.  I had been discussing about how Jesus was the Jewish messiah, returning to his hometown, explaining how God has always shown favor to not only the people of Israel, but people from other nations and religions as well (cf. Luke 4: 22-30). 

Immediately, I searched my memory for other examples, and to my surprise, I found plenty.  Even though Jesus' religion was Judaism, he welcomed and ministered to Samaritans, Roman officers, and a Syrophoenician woman. 

I thought of the Ethiopian eunuch, returning home from a visit to Jerusalem, where he was most likely turned away from the temple because he was not Jewish enough (Acts 8). Nevertheless, he was baptized by a faithful follower of Jesus.  Baptized!  Who among us today would baptize someone who wasn't really Christian, who didn't worship the right way, or who didn't have all of the right beliefs? 

And yet, I don't see much difference.  In the first century, the followers of Jesus considered themselves Jews, followers of the Jewish messiah, but they were willing to welcome non-Jews.  Today, the followers of Jesus consider themselves Christians, but rarely are they willing to follow the example of first-century followers and welcome non-Christians.  Indeed, we often find ourselves leary of non-Christians and even downright fearful of those who don't worship the "right" way or have all of the "right" beliefs.

Paul and his companions welcomed Gentiles into the Jesus movement.  They didn't even require them to be circumcised first.  They understood that the way of Jesus was bigger than Judaism, that the kingdom of God was bigger than any one religion.

What does that mean today?  It means that the way of Jesus is bigger than Christianity as we understand it.  The way of Jesus is bigger than Christianity as we've made it.

I think it's safe to say that Gandhi, for one, considered himself a follower of the way of Jesus, even though he certainly did not consider himself a Christian.  (More on this.)  I think a good number of those who consider themselves "spiritual but not religious" consider themselves followers of the way of Jesus, but not necessarily Christians.  This leads me to wonder:  Would the first-century followers of Jesus welcome them and accept them?  Would Jesus welcome them and accept them, accept their desire to follow, even though they might not have all the "right" beliefs?

I think he would.

Perhaps it's not a coincidence that these thoughts have come to me as I've become more involved in interfaith dialogue in my community.  I hope that my friends who are Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist, etc., are not offended when I say that I am learning to see them as followers of the way of Jesus.  Probably they will not be as offended as some of my fellow Christians will be.

My statement concerning people of other faiths has nothing to do with a desire to convert them to Christianity.  After all, even though I am a Christian, I know that the way of Jesus is bigger than that.  Instead, it is a recognition that the way of Jesus is actually the way of God, and it is open to all.

The belief that "the way of Jesus is bigger than any one religion / the kingdom of God is bigger than any one religion" has since become a recurring theme in my preaching.  Clearly this is because it is a belief that I myself am still growing into.  (Sorry, church, but my sermons are as much for me as they are for you.)  Other recurring themes include:  understanding the kingdom of God as a present reality; our call to be a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world; finding a life of meaning and deep satisfaction through generosity and simple living.

These themes are all related.  A search through my blog posts will probably reveal that they occur here as well.  They are all themes that I have come to gradually, through prayer, study, and reflection.  None of them startled me as much as the idea that the way of Jesus is bigger than any one religion.  All of them, I believe, are true.

Bikeway

Yesterday I participated in a 25-mile bike ride with people from all different faiths.  We were "pedaling for peace."  The ride officially started near the Belmont Shore, but for me, it actually started closer to home, as many of my bike rides do, at this gateway to the L.A. River bike path.  (I didn't take my camera yesterday; this picture is from a previous trip.)

Feeling It

Sometimes I just don't feel it.  It's an occupational hazard, I guess, exacerbated by my own personality, which is heavily skewed toward "introverted" and "thinking" according to Myers-Briggs.

In worship, I'm always focused on what comes next, making sure things flow smoothly.  My mind is always one step ahead, which means it's often difficult for me to remain present.  What was it that the lay leader just said?  I'm sorry, I didn't hear.  My mind was already on the next part of the service.

It doesn't help that the order of worship is fairly rigid and formal, neatly outlined in the paper program.  Granted, it's not nearly as rigid and formal as in some congregations I've been part of, but rigid and formal enough that I wonder if I'm not the only one who doesn't feel it. I have been known to intentionally leave the program blank as a way to help me and others feel it, but I think that was probably a one-time thing for me.

The founders of the Restoration Movement (of which my Disciples of Christ congregation is part) were, for the most part, rational, non-emotional thinkers.  We pride ourselves, even today, on being a church where "you don't have to check your brain in at the door."  We encourage people to think deeply, to explore deep questions, to have a faith of understanding, not a blind faith. 

No wonder I sometimes don't feel it.

But even the Restoration Movement founders tolerated the emotional revivalism of their day.  They thought, some of them, that it had a place in Christian worship (as long as it didn't get too carried away!).  Perhaps they, rational thinkers that they were, also longed to feel it.

Last spring, I took our youth to a praise worship which involved youth from a number of different Disciples congregations.  Several praise bands from different cities performed, but one of them I found to be exceptionally inspiring.  Afterward, I invited them to come play at my church, which they did last Sunday evening.

They had never played anywhere other than at their own church (which hosted the event last spring), so this was a new experience for them.  I made it clear to them that the evening "concert" was not a formal worship service, but rather an opportunity to have fun in an informal setting; and yet, even before the concert began, I knew what would happen:  For me, this would be an opportunity to really feel it, to immerse myself in the spirit of worship in a way that I'm often unable to do on Sunday morning.

Now, I'm left wondering:  How can we reshape worship to help more people "feel it?"  How do we find the balance between "feeling it" and not checking our brains in at the door?  How do other worship leaders and preachers (especially those with personalities similar to mine) deal with this?