DaddyRoBlog

For the Church

 In tomorrow's reading from the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus clearly says that not everyone who thinks they are following him really is--something anyone who calls themself a Christian would do well to remember. 

Anyhow, with that in mind this prayer seems particularly appropriate.

Gracious Father, we pray for they holy Catholic Church. Fill it
with all truth, in all truth with all peace. Where it is corrupt,
purify it; where it is in error, direct it; where in any thing it is
amiss, reform it. Where it is right, strengthen it; where it is in
want, provide for it; where it is divided, reunite it; for the sake
of Jesus Christ thy Son our Savior. Amen.

Creating Great Art: A Pastor's Wisdom, Addendum II

A PROFESSIONAL* DOES NOT HESITATE TO ASK FOR HELP

Tiger Woods is the greatest golfer in the world.   Yet he has a teacher; he works with Butch Harmon.  And Tiger doesn’t endure this instruction or suffer through it—he revels in it.  It’s his keenest professional joy to get other on the practice tee with Butch, to learn more about the game he loves.

Tiger Woods is the consummate professional.  It would never occur to him, as it would to an amateur,  that he knows everything, or can figure everything out on his own.  On the contrary, he seeks out the most knowledgeable teacher and listens with both ears.  The student of the game knows that the levels of revelation that can unfold in golf, as in any art, are inexhaustible.

--from The War of Art, by Steven Pressfield, page 85 (and by the way, I give this book my highest recommendation).    Pressfield says it better than I as to why having a coach is so important.

*the “professional” here is not someone who does their job out of a cold detachment simply to be paid for it, but is the one who differentiates herself from the amateur by the depth of her commitment to, love for, as passion in her life’s work.

A Pastor's Wisdom, Addendum 1

Today I am honored to have a piece I wrote on “the one thing I would focus on as a young pastor” posted on Scot McKnight’s blog, Jesus Creed.  One of the things I was thinking when I wrote this  was that as a pastor just starting out, I didn’t have any money,  and that one might think that putting together a support team like this sounds expensive.  And the truth is, it could well be—but it doesn’t have to be.   So here are some tips as to how put together a support team for ministry that won’t break the bank.

The two potentially high ticket items are a coach and a therapist.   Because of the two the coach can actually be the most expensive, let’s tackle this one first. 

And make no mistake:  a coach can be very, very expensive.   But you don’t have to formally hire an executive coach at a premium price.  There most likely will be an astute business person (or two!) in your congregation who would make a great coach.

I’d simply look for someone who is successful in business, ask them if they’ll have lunch with you once a month to talk about how the church is going, and tell them you’ll pick up the tab (most of the time they won’t let you, but I think it’s always good to offer and even better if you really can pick up the tab at least some of the time.  It goes a long way to not being seen as a mooch, which I think a fair number of people suspect pastors tend to be).

In my first church, for instance, there was a guy named Mickey Russell who was very successful in business (it helped that he was also deeply committed to the Lord).   We’d have our monthly lunch and talk about the business end of running a church—something for which I had absolutely zero training and zero experience.  Talk about being in over my head!

Because so many of our current church models are build on worldly models of success (though I do have hopes that the emerging church is moving us beyond that), I felt a lot of pressure to be “successful” myself.   That meant I only wanted to do things that seemed to guarantee at least some measure of success (i.e., more people, more dollars, more visibility, greater “market penetration”).

Mickey really took me to task on this.  “Let me share with you something one of my mentors shared with me,” he said.  “If you are successful 50% of the time, you are doing well.”  I needed to hear that, and I have never forgotten it.   Those words gave me the freedom to fail, and to take the kind of godly risks that I think are at the heart of a ministry pleasing in God’s sight.  They didn’t always result in a worldly success or a bigger church, but they did make a difference to somebody, taught us something in the process of failing, or drew us closer to God and deepened our trust in him.

That’s the value of having a good mentor.

Seeing Saturnidae

 

Walking out to the car this morning, I found this Luna Moth.  I didn't have a lot of time to get a good picture, so this one will have to suffice.

Like Cecropia, Polyphemus, and Prometheus Moths, the Luna Moth is a Giant Silk Moth, the largest moths we have in North America.  Their wingspans can be 5 to 6 inches across.  They are all spectacular, but perhaps none more than the Luna.

As you no doubt know, they start their life out as tiny little eggs which hatch into caterpillars.  The caterpillars of Giant Silk Moths resemble large, fat pickles, often adorned with various tubercles, spines, and projections.  When I was a kid I'd find these caterpillars regularly (there really is nothing quite like a full grown cecropia caterpillar ), but I haven't found one for  years despite diligently looking for them every summer.

The caterpillars then spin a cocoon, from which will emerge the adult moth.  Unfortunately, Giant Silk Moths don't have any mouths, so they only live a few days.  The short life span coupled with the fact that they fly only at night means they are not readily or often found, and that it is always a great privilege to behold their fleeting beauty. 

Pure Joy

 

You who are young, be happy while you are young,
       and let your hearts give you joy in the days of your youth.

--Ecclesiastes 11:9a

Driven

Compulsion is so easy to see in animals.

I put out peanuts for the chipmunks, and something in them inexorably drives them to keep coming back for more until the supply runs out.  They are no longer hungry.  The might have hundreds, thousands, millions stored up, more than they could ever possibly consume.  But they keep coming back for more, stuffing their cheeks with peanut and after peanut after peanut.   They can’t do anything else except answer the programming hardwired into their little rodent brains.

Or take a robin.  She has to build a nest; she can’t not build one.    She can’t resist the urge and take a year off, or decide she is just too tired or doesn’t have the energy.  She can only set about collecting twigs and grass and mud and weaving them together in a home for her eggs.

If an alien were looking at our lives, would compulsion be just as easy to see?   In our eating and drinking, our acquiring and saving, our endless doing and busyness, might those same forces be just as evident?

Impulse control is the name we give our ability to say no to compulsion.  It is one of the chief hallmarks of emotional intelligence, of being “heart smart.”  It is, I think, part of what makes us human. 

But on this Memorial Day weekend when I’ve been eating way too much, I can’t help but reflect on the fact that it is so much easier to live life on the level of a chipmunk.

The Good Life

Today was our church picnic.   We did our normal early service  at church, but then combined our two later services into one big outdoor service at a local park.   With a lush canopy of tall trees around us and the Potomac River flowing not far behind us, it made for a stunning cathedral in which to worship.

Afterwards we ate and played and walked and talked.  People stayed well into the afternoon, in part because the weather was absolutely perfect, but mostly I think because we all enjoy each other’s company.

I am always so glad to be part of a church that understands that to really be a church requires more of us than an hour or so on Sunday mornings.

For the Diversity of Races and Cultures

A prayer for a holiday weekend when many of us will be spending time with family and friends:

O God, who created all peoples in your image, we thank you
for the wonderful diversity of races and cultures in this world.
Enrich our lives by ever-widening circles of fellowship, and
show us your presence in those who differ most from us, until
our knowledge of your love is made perfect in our love for all
your children; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Animal Rescue League, Part II

After rescuing a chipmunk yesterday, I ran over a box turtle on the way to work.

Fortunately, I really did run over it (as opposed to actually hitting it), so it continued its perilous journey across Sterling Boulevard after I went by.  Well, actually it just sat there, but I could tell it was going to continue its journey across the four lane road.

I quickly found a place to park and then ran back to get the turtle.  Unfortunately, by this time it was walking again and was  in the middle of a lane with another car heading right for it.  I ran faster, but the car ran over the box turtle just as I got back across the road.

Fortunately, it really did run over it too, so once again the turtle was fine.  Maybe cats aren't the only animal with 9 lives.

It was a grisled old male, with a shell that was pretty beat up at points.  I picked it up and brought it back to the office with me for the morning.  Then, when I went to lunch, I let it go somewhere safe.

The Animal Rescue League

When I got back from working out at the gym early this morning, my wife was waiting at the door.  “Help!” she said, rather frantically.

“What happened?” I asked, wondering what had gone wrong already, before 7 o’ clock in the morning, and wondering further about just how bad it was going to be.

“The cat got a chipmunk,” she said hurriedly.   “It’s loose in our bedroom.  We’ve got to get it out!”

Sasha, the great hunter of our two felines, and who just Sunday morning brought in a blue jay before thinking better of it, dropping the bird (inside the house), and then running and hiding from it under the bed, was this morning locked outside after she dropped the terrified rodent  on the floor of our room, quite pleased with herself.

We looked for the chipmunk, but couldn’t find it, so it was time to let Sasha back in.  She located it immediately, in the corner behind a book case.  With the chipmunk located, we again removed her from the scene, and built a barrier out of shoes, pillows, towels, boxes—whatever we could find—designed to funnel the chipmunk out into the hall and then hopefully out the back door.

It worked.  She ran into the hall.  Unfortunately, we left a closet open, so she never made it to the back door.

We dismantled the closet. 

The chipmunk ran down the hall and into the kitchen, but instead of going outside kept going into the dining room where it hid under a chair.  We built another set of barriers—Tupperware, the table leaf, a purse, and so on—to head the chipmunk back into the kitchen and out the door. 

It jumped our barriers, leaping straight up, what seemed to be a couple feet into the air.  Who knew a chipmunk could do such a thing?

And so it went.  Eventually we did get it out the door.  I’m not sure who was more frazzled at that point—Linda and me or the chipmunk!