Monday, February 23, 2009

To All the Volunteers I've Loved Before...

To all the volunteers I've loved before
Who travelled in and out my church door
I'm glad they came along
I dedicate this song
To all the volunteers I've loved before

(On a slightly ironic note, the B side of the original Julio Iglesias/Willie Nelson record was ALSO written by Albert Hammond of "It Never Rains in Southern California" fame. But I digress.)

Like you, I attend a local church and, like you, I volunteer my time to help the ministries of the church function effectively and with impact. Unlike most of you, I'm not used to doing this as a volunteer. As I sat with my pastor this morning, talking over some ideas I have for adult Sunday School and Life Groups, I realized again how little time I can give to this ministry that is so important. My pastor is not pressuring me to do more, thank God, but my own internal wiring and awareness of the needs and some of what I could do to help meet those needs, makes we wish I had more time to give. It also makes me feel like I'm not doing enough. I found myself apologizing for not doing more. (Again, this was not coming from him, it was coming from me.)

As I walked back to my District Office to put on my other "hat" as a Director of Credentialing I thought about the literally hundreds of volunteers I've been privileged to work with over the past 35 years in local church ministries. I've heard them, too, wish aloud that they had more time and energy to give to the cause of Christ. I remember reacting, as my own pastor did, by reminding them that we were grateful for whatever time and energy they did have to give and that, because of having other obligations, it was always going to be this way. Wanting to do more, but not having the resources.

We all know objectively that every part of our life is ministry. (The key question for each of us is how well we are doing our ministry.) But we all also know that organized ministry in the local church has its own challenges and its own rewards. We are all called to be ministers in all that we do throughout the day, but we are also called to minister in the context of the Body of Christ. Both/and. Not either/or.

So on this Monday afternoon I want to publicly thank all those alongside whom I have been privileged to serve. I now know by experience that extra tug on time, energy and focus that the local church calls you to and I now know by experience what it's like to want to give more, but you can't. I also now know by experience how God takes the little things and uses them for His glory even when you don't get a paycheck for it. And that's a good thing.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Let Not Man Put Asunder

Some years ago, Christianity Today published the following poem by Eugene Peterson. Having just enjoyed the Valentine's Day reminder of my love for Sharon and the incredible journey we've been on for almost 35 years (31 of them happily), I pass this along. (And yes, I had to look up the definition of fissiparous, billet doux and pas de deux.)

Committed by command and habit to fidelity
I'm snug in the double bed and board of marriage:
spontaneity's built-in
to the covenantal dance,
everyday routines arranged
by the floor plan of the manse.

This unlikely fissiparous alliance
embraces and releases daily surprises.
The ego strength we'd carefully hoarded
in certain safe-deposit boxes
we've now dispersed, unlamented,
in dozens of delicate paradoxes.

A thousand domestic intimacies are straw
for making bricks resistant to erosion:
with such uncomely stuff we've built
our lives on ordinary sod
and grow, finally, old. My love is
not a goddess nor I a god.

"Asunder" is the one unpronounceable word in the world
of the wed, "one flesh" the mortal miracle.
What started out quite tentatively
with clumsy scrawls in a billet doux
has now become the intricacy
of bold marriage's pas de deux.

The Power of Grace



Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Friday, November 2, 2040

I had coffee this morning with a long-time friend who is only slightly older than I am. We swapped stories about ourselves, our wives and our children. We shared pearls of wisdom gathered from life and ministry over the more than 30 years we've known each other. We've exchanged Christmas letters over the years, but we haven't been in the same room with each other for probably 10 years. Yet the conversation flowed as if we'd just been together last week. I love those kind of friendships.

During the course of the conversation, my friend mentioned a man he knows who calculated the day of his death. (There are web sites that will do that for you based on BMI, age, general health, etc.) He then purchased a large jar and one marble for each week leading up to that date. Each Sunday he takes out one marble as a reminder of the passing of time. As the jar empties, he gets a visual reminder that every day matters. If, Lord willing, he should live to see the jar empty, his plan is to put a marble back in the jar each Sunday to remind him that each day is a gift from God.

I don't think I'll buy a jar and marbles, but just as the rain last week reminded me of the importance of leaving room for the rain, my friend's story has graphically illustrated three major truths about life:
1) Every day matters.
2) You only get one day at a time.
3) You never get them back.

Since there are no do-overs, I guess we need to count today and make today count.

Monday, February 09, 2009

Deo Volente

I had one of those "aha!" moments last Thursday evening when I realized that, unless I wanted to get soaking wet, I would not be able to walk to pick up my rental car on Friday morning. That doesn't sound like a paradigm shifting moment, but it came close. The "aha" was how much I assume that tomorrow will be pretty much like today. I rent a car once or twice a month since moving to So Cal because it is cheaper for the ministry I work with to rent a car and pay the gas than it is to reimburse me at the current rates. For almost two years I have walked about a mile to pick up my rental car. I am in a rhythm. I walk over to the rental car place, pick up my car, drive home. I drop the rental car off and walk home. The weather is always such that it is certainly no problem for me to walk.

Until last week. Contrary to Albert Hammond's chart-topping 1972 song, it really does rain in Southern California. I had walked the route so often in non-rainy weather that I assumed I would do so once more. Au contraire! And it got me thinking about how much I make the assumption that the plans I had for yesterday and today will, automatically, be good plans for tomorrow. But God calls us to live each day with "Lord willing" as the underpinning of our life and decision making. An acknowledgement of God's sovereign prerogative in our lives. That is, as God tells us in the letter of James and other portions of Scripture, we are to leave room for God, in His providence, to change the details of our life. We leave room for the Holy Spirit. We leave room for rain.

Monday, February 02, 2009

And I Would Walk 500 Miles...

Yesterday, Sunday, February 1, Sharon and I walked 13.1 miles in just under 4 hours, which was our goal. The actual time was 3:56:15. Sharon's sister, Anita, came in just behind us, also under 4 hours. It was Anita who first asked Sharon if she'd like to walk this half marathon. Sharon, in turn, asked if I would join them so we could do this together. Early in the process it was clear that my long legs would be a decided advantage. About the second week, Sharon sent me on ahead to join those who could walk at a quicker pace. Not wanting to have the discussion at that moment, I went on ahead. Later that day I reiterated my commitment. I had no real desire to get up early each Saturday morning to walk for several hours. What I did have a desire for was time with my wife where we could share an experience that benefits us physically but would also provide a venue for those leisurely conversations out of which we often discover things about ourselves and each other. The walk would not be leisurely, but the dialogue would be.

Late last week, Sharon and Anita asked if I wanted to walk at my own pace (about half a mile an hour faster than they walk) the day of the race. I once again emphasized that I didn't sign up to compete, I signed up to converse. As we neared the finish line, Sharon and I were about a half a block ahead of Anita several times and slowed down to allow her to catch up. Anita encouraged us to go ahead. Sharon turned and said, "We started this together. We'll finish it together." And we did.

Once again life meets truth. My life verse is found in the section in Ephesians 4 where Paul basically says, "If everyone ain't mature, ain't none of you mature." That goes so counter to our individualistic society, but it is at the core of the Kingdom society. It doesn't mean that some will not have advantages over others in certain areas. It means we are all in this together (go ahead, break into the chorus from High School Musical). That will mean that some may have to slow down while others may have to go faster than they otherwise would have. Anita is a great source of encouragement and training ideas. Sharon and I benefited greatly from having her on our team. And Anita benefited from our setting a faster pace. Together we trained and together we reached our goal of finishing under 4 hours. Could I have gone faster? Yep. But it wouldn't have been nearly as satisfying or fun.