tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58506757364500447172024-02-21T07:44:30.069-06:00The Mission Church of the NazareneServing Christ together with our NeighborsRCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-17543836141062472682020-03-27T13:02:00.000-05:002020-03-27T13:19:42.970-05:00Risky Hope and Generosity <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Early this morning, in a thread I was reading, someone said "the depression literally killed people." It was said in response to the possibility of an impending economic crash and what we should do about it.<br />
That statement though, struck me as an odd one. The great depression didn't run around with a gun literally killing people. No one actually died directly from the depression at all.<br />
People did die, yes, but what they died of was due to two main things. The first despair, and the second a lack of their needs being met (food, shelter, clothing).<br />
I find it most disheartening when Christians are the ones responding with the type of rhetoric that losing money or crashing economic systems automatically means a death sentence, because collectively the narrative of the Bible, over and over again, offers solutions to both of these issues.<br />
We are supposed to be people of hope, people of the resurrection, who claim that even death has no dominion over us. Yet, we seem to falter at wavering economics. If our hope and trust come from our finances, we will be left wanting, even if there isn't a great depression.<br />
There still is job loss, there are still medical emergencies that leave us unable to work at times, there are still various tragedies that end up costing more money than we planned for or imagined. Putting our hope in finances is shaky ground. It is, quite honestly, building our foundation on shifting sand.<br />
There is an old hymn we sing regularly in our church that says "My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus blood and righteousness. I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly lean on Jesus' name. On Christ the Solid Rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand". It would be a scary place to be in right now if what we were really meaning was "My hope is built on nothing less than capitalist economics". But our hope isn't placed in the economy, our hope is (or at least should be) placed in Jesus.<br />
That might seem very pie in the sky when looking at job loss and the fear and anxiety that goes along with that, so what does that mean in the face of difficult times? It means that we look forward in hope despite our circumstances, but it also means that we share that hope with others. We pass the peace to a world living in anxiety. We are a non-anxious presence in anxious times. We love others well.<br />
My 2 year old son might understand that better than I do. When I start to look at the world with despair, he pulls me back in to look at the world instead with wonder. He asks me to sing one more song, or read one more book, or says "I love you." He declares with joy "look at the trees! Look at the birds! Look at these little rocks." It's amazing the small things that can give hope in the midst of difficult times.<br />
I've watched people give hope in these difficult days. Healthcare workers who are working around the clock despite their own exhaustion. School lunch ladies who put together kits of food to pass out to children in vulnerable places. Teachers creating zoom classrooms and spending hours putting together packets of materials. I've watched as friends have extended gifts to one another. I've watched as people have chosen to stay inside and play board games and read books versus put their neighbors at risk of a deadly virus. I've seen neighborhoods decorate their walk ways with chalk, and put displays in their windows to make the world a brighter place. I've had friends who are trained therapists and counselors offer their services virtually at no cost, to help people work through anxiety and fear with dignity. I've watched as my colleagues have spent hours calling congregants, creating meditation and devotion exercises, pray over people and with people, and stream sermons of hope to any who want to listen.<br />
All of this and more is hope giving work. It's life giving work. These are ways to dispel the darkness and bring about light to a people on the edge of despair. This is the work of resurrection that the church is called to and that the church can do.<br />
The second part, the meeting needs part, might feel more difficult or daunting, but it takes the same amount of creativity.<br />
I told my husband, "One of the interesting things about the depression to me, is that there were still rich people." Maybe more interesting is that we tend to tell their stories as the heroes of that time. The ones who pulled themselves up by their bootstraps. Yet, this is a very different narrative than the one we find in scripture.<br />
Story after story in the Bible tells us about the importance of generosity. The story of Lazarus and the Rich man, where the rich man got all his needs met on earth, and never shared with his poor neighbor Lazarus, and its the rich man that ends up in hell (he's definitely not the hero). The story in the old testament of King Eglon in the book of Judges, who was so obese the handle of a sword disappeared in his belly, which was a statement about someone with the ability to gorge himself while those around him starved to death, instead of being generous (among other things). The story of the rich young ruler who went away sad because Jesus told him to sell everything he has and give it to the poor. The system in the Old Testament law of gleaning, where part of crops must be left for the poor. The story of the widow of Zarapheth who had so little flour and oil that she was planning to make a last meal for herself and her child, before starving to death, but shared it with Elijah out of obedience to God and ended up having her needs met day after day after day. The system of Jubilee where debts are forgiven and land is restored, that while never being lived out the way it should, was still a directive from God. The church in Acts 2 that shared everything in common, and so everyone had their needs met. I could go on and on and on. Story after story after story.<br />
God cares deeply for the needs of people, because people are the beloved of God. The way that God meets those needs most often, is through the generosity of the people of God.<br />
We've been told a lie by our culture that tells us that what we have is ours. We worked hard for it, we deserve it. What God tells us is that everything is God's. Everything is a gift, and because everything is a gift, we are to generously share with those around us.<br />
When you have more than you need, you build longer tables. We are to be people of longer tables.<br />
It might seem that we don't have anything to share, but often that's because we fail to have an imagination. If we have a guest room, we can share it. If we have 2 coats, we can give one to someone who needs one. If we have a years worth of toilet paper, certainly we could spare some rolls for our neighbor without any. If we know how to bake bread, we can share that knowledge with others who need to know how in days when there is no bread on the shelves or no money to buy it. If we have a 20 lb bag of rice, we could certainly find a way to share it with others.<br />
We are going to need to be people with a kingdom imagination, to create ways we can share with others. There has been no shortage of imagination these days, with how we are learning to share digitally with one another. What if we could take that creative energy, and think of ways to share more deeply and more creatively with those around us who have needs? To share with those who are facing job losses or insecurity?<br />
Scarcity is a myth deeply woven into our society. It tells us we need to buy more, to protect what we have at all costs, and to build up stores for ourselves. But this is not the narrative of the people of God. Our narrative is to be one of risky hope and generosity. Where we give out of a deep trust that God cares for the sparrow and will care for us too. Where there is always enough, when we share the little bit we have with those around us.<br />
Let us be the people of God that we are called to be. Let us be people of risky hope and generosity.<br />
<br />RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-65056682532567512162020-02-17T15:14:00.001-06:002020-02-17T15:14:44.983-06:00The flowering of the cross <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Each year, our church participates in a beautiful tradition, the flowering of the cross. It is a highlight of the Easter service. It is incredibly participatory for our intergenerational church, creates a beautiful (and tangible) illustration of life out of death, and makes for an amazing back drop for Easter photos. </div>
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I've had several people ask about the logistics of creating a flowering cross of their own, and also what a liturgy might look like. Because there has been such an interest, I have decided to write out both the logistics (with photos) of how to put one together, and a liturgy as well.</div>
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Holy Week is BUSY for those of us in ministry, so the more we can share with one another (especially tips on how to make things more simple) the better. This is VERY simple to put together, but has a significant impact. </div>
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First, this is what our cross looks like for Good Friday. </div>
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This is obviously far from a flower cross. Last year we gradually blew out candles throughout the service, and it made such a visual impact that we will probably do that again. If anyone is interested in our Good Friday liturgy, I'm more than happy to share that in another post, just comment that you'd like to see it. </div>
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Our cross was built by a couple in our church, and I'm happy to get instructions for that as well. It's unfinished (I like the look of it that way), and it inserts into a base, which makes it much easier to move when we need to move it, and creates a great platform for vignettes like the one I created for Good Friday. </div>
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The cross is simply draped in a black cloth for the Good Friday service. </div>
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On Holy Saturday, I turn over the cross from Good Friday to Easter. It's a work Saturday for me, as I stop at the local florist (I highly recommend working with a local florist, to build relationships and support local businesses) to pick up our Easter lilies as well as getting extra flowers for the flowering of the cross, and reset the sanctuary. </div>
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If flowers are growing outdoors (which is very dependent on where you live, and where Easter falls) I encourage using those. We ask everyone in our congregation to bring flowers from their gardens or to pick up flowers from their favorite florist. Our cross ends up looking very different every year because of this. It's important that we have our congregants participate, because it's to symbolize that we are a resurrection community. That what started with Jesus continues with us, as we breathe life in the dead places of the world. </div>
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After taking the Good Friday decor down, I then wrap chicken wire around the cross. The chicken wire extends beyond the top and arms, but doesn't extend fully to the back (it doesn't need to). It extends just enough to look great from any angle someone would be sitting in. I encourage you to measure and cut your chicken wire ahead of time, so you aren't doing that while trying to reset on Holy Saturday. The cross looks like this when wrapped in chicken wire. (Notice the extra flowers from the florist. I tend to purchase a couple bunches of inexpensive, but beautiful flowers in various colors)</div>
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The reason I like to use chicken wire is that it is nearly invisible when seated in the congregation. It also is very easy to weave flowers and greenery through, even for our youngest congregants. </div>
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Once the cross is wrapped in chicken wire, then I arrange the white cloth. This actually takes me longer than the chicken wire, because I get pretty particular about how I want it to look. </div>
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I always leave the extra flowers at the foot of the cross for Easter morning. The florist and I have a great relationship at this point, so they always let me take their large buckets with me, which come in handy. Having some greenery like Eucalyptus, or palm branches are also a nice inexpensive touch to the look of the cross. </div>
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On Easter Sunday, nearly everyone brings flowers in, many bringing extra for guests they know that are coming from out of town. Our cross gets more and more full each year. Another nice thing about the chicken wire is that it is easy to keep adding until the dross is very full. </div>
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We flower the cross at the end of our service following the Eucharist. It fits really well for us. I talk about remembering Christ's death, and that we too are called to die, but that the heart of our faith is resurrection. That we are to participate in resurrection life in the world as well. Sewing seeds for the kingdom of God, and breathing resurrection life into the world. </div>
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We play upbeat music about the resurrection, and it feels like a celebration. Since our services are intergenerational, everyone gets involved. The tall adults lift toddlers up on their shoulders to reach the very top. Board members make sure that visitors are all given flowers to contribute. It's a beautiful image of resurrection community. </div>
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This is what our cross looks like when it's finished! The colors change from year to year, and it seems to get more and more full each year. </div>
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I know there are some churches who use silk flowers that they reuse each year. I prefer real flowers for a few reasons 1) there is enough plastic pollution in our world without contributing more and real flowers are compostable 2) it feels weird talking about life with something that's not alive 3) it feels much more participatory when people are bringing in their favorite flowers.<br />
People linger around the flower cross for a while. Taking photos and celebrating before we take off for brunch. It makes for great photos with family, and everyone loves it.<br />
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(Easter 2019)</div>
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This leaves the question, what do we do with the flowers when we are done? After brunch, we encourage people to make bouquets to take home. It's a good reminder for them throughout Easter week about being resurrection in other places. </div>
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I know it seems like a lot of work for such a short part of our service, but it really is that impactful and looked forward to so much, that I get joy doing the work for it each and every year. It's a highlight in my year, and I love all it represents in the life of our church. It really feels like a moment that reenergizes us for our mission in the world. </div>
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However, if you want to enjoy it longer, many people flower the cross during their Easter Vigil at midnight. It would also be a great thing to include in a sunrise service (we find that our sunrise service is best when we are doing interactive things. We actually do resurrection eggs, lots of songs, and an easter craft to take home). </div>
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This is an example of what I say to lead us into the liturgy of communion and the flowering of the cross response:<br /><i>(this was following baptism) As a resurrection community there is another act we participate in, and that is the Eucharist. It reminds us of the great sacrifice of Jesus for us, and again a reminder that we are called to live differently. We are called to walk the path of the cross that we might ultimately know resurrection. <br /> Because we are talking about participating in resurrection today, we will not only be receiving communion, but we will also be participating in the flowering of the cross. It is a way for us to be reminded that God transforms broken and dead things into whole and live things. So as a response to our time of communion this morning, we ask that you also come forward to weave your flowers, and the flowers here at the foot of the cross, onto the cross as a reminder that we are participating with Christ in the redeeming, restoring, and resurrecting work in the world. </i></div>
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(from our oldest son's baptism Easter 2018)</div>
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This is a beautiful and meaningful time for our church, as it leads well to celebration and being sent into the world. It also makes for some great photos! </div>
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I would love to hear about your flower crosses and see photos if you end up adding this into your liturgy this year, so send your stories and photos to me! Happy preparations for the busy season ahead! </div>
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</span>RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-46602795318159783342019-05-10T10:52:00.001-05:002019-05-10T10:52:37.799-05:00The Resurrection of Mothers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_5HQ3J6Y8tJrHzAUYCNo_q2dazXWyZ-E681jKxYG-3d3-hEIk6vjwwn0R-XmbJkXy9xy_RZB9BTOScFloe55PSh1NMcoRhjg8WmJRCN8urf6QqxdJvexJzXNrziTdAAzK1Q7mtGYAvs/s1600/Why+Mother%2527s+Day+belongs+in+Eastertide.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="560" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_5HQ3J6Y8tJrHzAUYCNo_q2dazXWyZ-E681jKxYG-3d3-hEIk6vjwwn0R-XmbJkXy9xy_RZB9BTOScFloe55PSh1NMcoRhjg8WmJRCN8urf6QqxdJvexJzXNrziTdAAzK1Q7mtGYAvs/s640/Why+Mother%2527s+Day+belongs+in+Eastertide.png" width="640" /></a></div>
This Sunday is Mother's Day in the United States. In case you were unaware, Mother's day is celebrated in many countries around the world, the dates just vary from the United States. This Sunday is also the fourth Sunday of Easter. You may have also been unaware of this, but Easter is a season that stretches from Resurrection Sunday to Pentecost.<br />
I've been reflecting a bit on how Mother's day falls right smack dab in the middle of Eastertide (and generally does so). I always feel it important to acknowledge Mother's day in our church, but not lose sight that we are there to worship and celebrate the resurrection together. Over the past few days, however, I've really begun to feel that Easter is the most appropriate season for Mother's day.<br />
It may seem an odd connection, but let me explain.<br />
Throughout Lent and into Holy week we talk about the things that need to be crucified, that need to be laid aside, so that new life can be born in us. That we might become part of this beautiful resurrection community. That we might partner with the resurrection work the Holy Spirit is doing even now in the world, and look ahead with hope to the final resurrection where all things are made right.<br />
There are a lot of things about motherhood that could use a crucifixion. That could be laid down in order to make space for a resurrection work.<br />
We could crucify complementarianism, and the idea that women can't be equal partners in the work God seeks to do in the world. We could acknowledge and be grateful for the amazing gifts they give to the world, and celebrate the ways that the image of God is seen fully when we work together, this is a gift of resurrection.<br />
We could seek to crucify the ways we elevate motherhood into idolatry. As though being a biological mother is the only way to impact the world for good. We could resurrect the motherhood of the church, and celebrate the ways that faith mothers sow seeds of resurrection every day, with or without their own children.<br />
As a mother myself, I would be happy to sacrifice the martyrdom of motherhood. This idea that we must and should give up everything about ourselves, our showers, our health, our time, our identity, completely and totally for the sake of our children, or be deemed selfish. Let's resurrect the reality that mothers are also the beloved of God, and that God has given unique dreams, gifts, and talents to these women, that they can be a great force for the mission of God in the world.<br />
We could seek to surrender our prejudice, biases, and racism that label immigrant mothers or mothers living in poverty as something less than children of God. We could find resurrection hope in the ways we seek to find what we have in common, and the ways we can grow and learn from one another.<br />
But there are other ways we need the hope of resurrection this mother's day too.<br />
For many, Mother's day is a painful reminder of what they have lost. The death of their own mother or grandmother. The death of a child. The loss of expectations that will never be met, through the grief of infertility or miscarriage. The painful thought that "no one knows I'm a mother." created by adoption plans, abortion, or infant loss. The unique grief that comes from broken relationships, or mothers who weren't what they should have been. Sometimes we are grieving the ways we feel like we have failed as parents, or the loss of dreams for our children. These all need a fresh breath of resurrection hope.<br />
The hope of Easter is not just a hope for someday, it's a hope for now too. We often relegate the idea of Immanuel, God with us, to advent, but it's the story of Easter too. The message that God loves us so much, He entered into our pain with us, and continues to do so. Not just to leave us in our suffering and grief, but to breathe new life in the midst of our pain. This is a great message for the Church this mother's day. For the women sitting in pews around the country, to hear that they are loved, regardless of the status of their womb, or the relationship with their own mothers, or children. This is a message that God wants to do a new thing in all of us.<br />
So somewhere between breakfast in bed and cleaning up the dishes, I hope you know that there is resurrection here for you. That your tired eyes are seen, and that your need for rest is felt by a God who says to come and rest. Or between the blankets in your bed, as you try to sleep this painful day away, know that God is present with you. That your tears are felt and shared, and that you are still beloved in the midst of the grief. Or like me, between the chaos of pastoring, celebrating, and motherhood as you both mother your congregation and your children, know that it's okay to have more to your identity than mom. That you are part of the great mission of God in the world, as you breathe resurrection around you. Wherever you are, whether rejoicing or in pain, there is a God who sees you, who walks with you, who calls you believed, and who is extending hope to you today.<br />
There is resurrection for you, no matter where you are, no matter who you are. So this mother's day, and each day, may we breathe that hope deeply into our hearts, and release them like dandelion seeds into the world around us. That we may see resurrection grow in the hearts of the rejoicing, and the brokenhearted alike. Happy Mother's day, and happy Easter!RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-3103797413718421522019-05-08T08:58:00.000-05:002019-05-08T08:58:34.699-05:00Leaning Into Compassion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPFqC_o1O2HLuv-7GiqlmDsLDMH9QijIIbi3SSCWzEPNtRDrIoTn4uhiQMRTVypIYlTRLtdsySLGxgMYJlwRTxCcgLtr3vrjgWCh8_Wp41PmR9hZ3keBU1uKX23gGVh2UgGrX3onTq7Uc/s1600/Foodies%2527+Vocabulary.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="560" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPFqC_o1O2HLuv-7GiqlmDsLDMH9QijIIbi3SSCWzEPNtRDrIoTn4uhiQMRTVypIYlTRLtdsySLGxgMYJlwRTxCcgLtr3vrjgWCh8_Wp41PmR9hZ3keBU1uKX23gGVh2UgGrX3onTq7Uc/s640/Foodies%2527+Vocabulary.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Each year I am tasked with giving an annual report to other churches on our district. It's a way to be accountable, and have others join in the struggle and joy of what is happening in all of our churches. This year we were asked to share a way we have personally been engaged in an act of compassion this year. This is my story. </i><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Each year I give a “state of the Church address”, where I seek to cast vision for our church in the upcoming year. This year, the focus was hospitality. I told my congregation “they will know they are Christians by our love, but they will know they are loved by our hospitality.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This has been something Mac, Michael, and I have tried to live out in our lives. It’s a cornerstone of what we believe it means to be a Christian. Because of this, over the last 5 years, we have seen our home filled with no less than 200 people. People staying overnight, using our showers, eating meals in our home. Calls and emails from other Nazarenes who don’t know us but need a place to stay while they do doctoral work, or do work in the city. Mac and I decided when we got married that our home has an open door policy to those in need. Our house is not our own, it belongs to God, and we will use it however God wants to use it. Our answer has always been “yes, come.”</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvzGynAMiIf0zB4W6e0gjajbcXmy9VNzRsgQx0vgUgjy0Vg7lP0PcfADwt1Au12XT1ZMHSQsZH0Xj5hyJK4nlxFuX4FD5dxt4z9qJxeDwZ7vgoZfL056kNUEJLv8ctsnnnoTnONTivajo/s1600/Open+House+%25281%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvzGynAMiIf0zB4W6e0gjajbcXmy9VNzRsgQx0vgUgjy0Vg7lP0PcfADwt1Au12XT1ZMHSQsZH0Xj5hyJK4nlxFuX4FD5dxt4z9qJxeDwZ7vgoZfL056kNUEJLv8ctsnnnoTnONTivajo/s320/Open+House+%25281%2529.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, when we received an email from The Welcome Network, a faith based non-profit doing immigration and refugee work here in Northwest Indiana, that they were desperately looking for housing for Congolese asylum seekers and refugees, we didn’t need to think or pray long to know that our answer needed to be “yes, come.” </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> We knew the moment we said yes, the process could be fast. We didn’t know how fast it would be. We gave our yes on a Friday in November, just a couple weeks before thanksgiving, and received the call on Sunday. A family of 7, just released from the screening process at the border needed somewhere to go. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“We know this is a lot of people. We know this is more than you expected, let us know, but know when you say yes, the organization in Texas will put them on a bus and they will be here in days.” </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I asked Mac “what do we do? There are 7 people. 5 children from age 2 to 13. Can we house them?” Mac’s response “We aren’t going to leave them with nowhere to go. Tell them yes, come.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So again, we said yes that Sunday, and they arrived the next Wednesday. I had a trip out of town, so Mac and his family moved all of our furniture. They moved the baby's crib back into our bedroom. They made beds. We asked for more towels, sheets, and plates. Our church stepped in in amazing ways. We brought the folding table up from downstairs, and literally turned our table for 6 into a table for 10. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When they arrived in our home, no one spoke English. Mac used every word in French that he could remember. If you doubt that God uses everything when given to him, ask Mac about his once seemingly useless minor in French. When I realized the kids had learned Spanish from their 8 month journey through the jungles of south and Central America, I used every bit of Spanish I knew to communicate with them. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adding 7 people to your once quiet home was, in one word, chaos. It’s been hours of school pick ups and drop offs. I’ve spent hours on the phone with school counselors trying to come up with plans of how to help our 8th grader make friends in a world that is difficult for American kids who speak English fluently. We spent Thanksgiving in the church basement, because we outgrew both our home, and my in-law’s home, where we introduced them to “the feast of the turkey” as they call it. We spent the most beautiful Christmas we’ve ever had, with children coming down the stairs with wide eyes that a Santa Claus that never visited them in Africa would come here to their new home in America for them. With tiny wrapped gifts under the tree with tags that read “Michael Big”, “Robbie”, and “baby Michael”, small tokens chosen with care from the school store. We’ve introduced them to birthday cake, a tradition that is not common in the Congo. The kids now assure me that birthday cake is their favorite food, to which I wholeheartedly agree. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But they’ve introduced us to a lot too. Maybe the biggest being constant sanctification. That might sound weird, but living in community with people is hard work. Things get broken. Misunderstandings happen. There are many days we just want to have a quiet house, and we don’t have that luxury. Groceries for 10 people are extremely expensive, and we’ve learned to give without thinking. We’ve learned that the right and good thing to do, is often the hardest thing to do. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was easy to initially say yes, it’s much harder to keep saying yes. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maybe the biggest lesson of compassion we have learned involves our son. After our initial yes, I was sitting in his nearly empty room while he played with his toys, and started to cry. Was this what is best for him? Getting displaced from his room? Having to share all his toys? Introducing him to unknown people from an unknown place? This great sense of mom guilt rushed over me. I knew we wouldn’t have as much to spend on him. We already had so little, and now we were asking for loaves and fish miracles daily. He would go without things I always imagined him having. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After 6 months, it’s safe to say, he’s by far the favorite person in our home. He says so many of the kids names, and when our 8th grader gets home from school he screams, giggles, and runs to her. I have to remind myself daily as a parent, that when I baptized my son into the church, I was saying he wasn’t mine, but belonged to God. That of all the things in the world I want for him, safety is so far down the list. What I pray and want for him is to be a person of love, of compassion, of holiness. I know the only way for him to learn those things, is to live those things. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So we lean into the hard things. We lean into the hard days. We lean into empty bank accounts, and broken garbage disposals. We lean into misunderstandings, and language barriers, we lean into them like leaning into childbirth, and what we’ve found is a joy that’s unspeakable, a love that is unending, a community that is deeper than race, culture, or language.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I asked our 14 year old one time. Is there a song you could teach us that you used to sing in church at home in Africa? She thought for a moment and she said “I know one….” And she sang “Alleluia…. Alleluia...for the Lord God Almighty reigns” And as she sang in Portuguese, I sang in English. I was reminded, Alleluia isn’t English, and so we had this word that transcended language, and it means Praise God! Praise God!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In church a couple months ago, we sang a chorus you might be familiar with “Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.” We had at least 3 main languages represented in that sanctuary that Sunday morning, and every voice was singing. Haitian creole, Lingala, Portuguese, Spanish, English, French, it didn’t matter, in A Capella voices rang. “Alleluia! Alleluia!” This is the truth we have learned these past few months.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I asked Mac “how is it that these people can drive me crazy, and yet I can love them so deeply?” He said “I think they just call that family.”</span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-2cca2e5d-7fff-bdb9-00e1-6336ab9d654e"></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And it is. Through compassion, through grace, through hospitality, we have learned a great deal about the beauty, the wealth, the glory, the love, joy, and the grace of the family of God. Alleluia. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> -In the Great Hospitality of Christ, respectfully submitted, Rev. Robbie Cansler</span></div>
RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-45824586072760398632019-04-24T11:44:00.002-05:002019-04-24T11:54:45.017-05:00More than Bread: Meeting the Needs of People<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Shortly following the Notre Dame fire, I saw a meme going around. It said "Please don't donate to help rebuild Notre Dame. The building is worth $30 billion. Donate to help Puerto Rico recover. Donate to get Flint clean water. Donate to get kids out of cages. Jesus didn't care about stained glass. He cared about humans."<br />
At first I wanted to add my hearty Amen, but then I began to sit with it more. Before I was plunged head first into Urban ministry, I would have wholeheartedly agreed. Meet the basic needs of people. Those needs are food, clean water, clothes, and a safe place to live. However, now I realize how dehumanizing it is to reduce people to those few basic needs.<br />
If all we spend money on is food for the poor, so they can be saved, what are we saving them to? (Also.... maybe we should lose the language of saving people in the first place... but I digress)<br />
It might seem odd that someone who does ministry in a city lacking so much, is advocating for something other than this meme is saying. Now, don't hear what I'm not saying, I'm not saying don't donate to rebuilding Puerto Rico, they need the money. Please give to clean water initiatives in Flint, I have friends there and family nearby. Please vote and advocate to reunify children with their parents. Jesus did desperately care about humans, but he cared about the whole human, not just basic needs.<br />
Reducing people to only needing water, clothing, food, and shelter misses so many things about the image of God in people. Jesus said it this way "man does not live on bread alone."<br />
In America, many people who have their "basic" needs met are still dying. Because life isn't just about those things. Life is also about beauty, about art, about community. Life is about finding spaces to pray, to meditate, and to reflect. And when we don't have those things, just as much as not having the others, something deep and necessary is missing in our lives.<br />
I'm also going to go out on a limb here and say, Jesus does care about stained glass, because he cares deeply about the artisans who created it and the ways that they used those gifts to glorify him. We would never say "Jesus doesn't care about our songs on Sunday." He does! Because they are an act of worship. For artists, their act of worship is art. Man doesn't live on bread alone.<br />
Last year, our church building had serious plumbing issues. It drove me crazy, because we had to spend a significant amount of money to get it fixed. As the plumber was putting the camera down our pipes to discover the problem, I mentioned to him how frustrated I was that we were spending money on plumbing instead of on ministry. I honestly think this man might have been an angel in disguise, because what he said to me has profoundly impacted me to this day. He said "having working pipes is a ministry. The ability for people to use the bathroom is a basic human need. If you can't meet that, it makes the rest of your ministry difficult to do. Don't discount the ministry of your building."<br />
I was dumbfounded, and convicted. In so many ways. I had, and still do at times, see our building as a burden. As a hindrance to doing ministry, without realizing that in so many ways, my building is a ministry. We have had many homeless and transient people use our restrooms, or come in to get warm. We have children who are just being potty trained rush down to the bathroom. So many of our Sunday visitors, just happen to be walking by, and end up finding community here. A lot of our congregation finds a beautiful space important for them in connecting with God. Our building is a ministry.<br />
It's hard to look at a $30 billion price tag, and how quickly money is raised, and not feel a bit incensed about it, people are dying after all. But, we also have to look at ourselves. I've spent $50 on a dress because it was pretty, and I felt good in it. I've spent money on art pieces and photography for my home. Why? Because people need more than bread. People need self-expression, and belonging. They need art and beauty. They need toilets, and spaces to pray. They need to have hope, and looking at beautiful things that glorify God often fills that need.<br />
There is a deep importance to understanding that people are more than basic needs, that they are creative, that they love music, they love art, they love pretty dresses just as much as the next person.<br />
But there's another important lesson to be learned here too, the economy of God is big, and is not in danger of running out of money. The question isn't "let's spend money here, instead of here, because there are limited funds", the challenge is how to do both. I think we've witnessed, that we can. There is enough money and human power to invest in beautiful spaces, to fix plumbing issues, and empower artists, while also feeding, clothing, and giving water to those in need. We just have to have the creativity and desire to do it.<br />
Let's work together. Let's restore dignity to people by caring for their whole person. Let's find where they are gifted and celebrate their gifts. Let's appreciate art, and the artist. Let's meet needs, and empower people to meet their own needs. Let's celebrate that God didn't create us to live on bread alone, but that we are all uniquely and beautifully made in the image of God. An image that is created for community and creativity, while also giving bread.RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-41509031524203420552019-04-12T10:46:00.001-05:002019-04-12T10:46:32.951-05:00A Mile in Someone Else's Shoes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There has been a lot of buzz lately on the shoe choices of clergy. In particular, a small demographic of celebrity pastors, who are wearing shoes over $2,000 a pair. Though I have seen criticisms of shoes costing as low as $200.<br />
I understand the criticisms. It leaves many people to question if their tithe money is going to the ministries they think they are, or so their pastor can lead a life of luxury that they could never afford themselves. There is a continuing question of stewardship, and if that is the best way to use money, and the resounding answer tends to be no.<br />
However, there's a huge issue with this collective outrage, the reality that unless your pastor was actually on that small list, they aren't the problem you think they are. I've actually seen people say "this is why I don't give to my local church" or "I'm reconsidering tithing" and it breaks my heart, because most of us who are pastoring are far from being able to afford $2,000 shoes, we're struggling to put food on our tables and pay our bills.<br />
Let me be truthfully vulnerable about our situation. My husband lost his job this week, and with it we lost all of our insurance benefits and our regular source of income. That might not seem like a big deal, I work full time at the church after all, but the reality is that the only income we receive from our small church is housing and utilities. But, because we receive housing, it's considered income, and thus it is taxable. Clergy have to pay self employment tax, which is a significant percentage of our income. We also have to pay the various other parts of income tax as well, including social security, and without an employer to supplement it, these amounts become very large very quickly. I did the math this week, and what I make comes down to about $2 an hour (which is a generous estimate). Remember none of that is in an actual salary, so we don't receive any of that money to buy groceries, it is all tied up in our house.<br />
Because of this I am bi-vocational. I substitute taught for the first few years we were here, but when we had our son, we couldn't afford child care, so now I do freelance writing work on the side, meaning I end up working 60-80 hours a week many weeks, in addition to caring for our son full time.<br />
We are still paying off student loans, and while we are doing well in this area, almost always our bills are higher than we bring in, especially these days. It is very likely that though we always try to help others (which we do) that we will very much need to be on the receiving side of help very soon.<br />
I don't say that as a sob story, so don't read it that way, but the truth is more pastors I know (and I know a lot) are in our situation than in the situation of buying designer shoes. I know pastors that have no idea how they are going to pay off their student loans, and when tax time comes around they get extreme anxiety over how much they owe the IRS this year. There are numerous pastors, just in my circle, whose children are on medicaid and receive WIC benefits just to get by. Many pastoral families are receiving food from the very food pantries their churches help to run for those in need in the community. Even pastors who aren't struggling in these seemingly more extreme ways have made a consistent number of jokes about their shoes from the sale bin, because they feel the absurdity at ever being able to pay that much for a luxury.<br />
Often these people who would drop everything to be at your bedside in the hospital, who consider it a privilege to study and preach the word to you, who hold your hand through your financial crises, aren't talking about their own financial crises. They aren't talking about the years they have gone without health insurance, and depended on prayers that they wouldn't have an emergency. They aren't telling you about how they aren't able to go to the bedside of their own family members who are ill, because the trip home is too expensive. The truth is, they want to carry your burdens, they don't want to be a burden.<br />
The number of pastors who have to work another job or 2 in order to continue serving their community is rising, and they do it. Not out of some weird savior complex, but because they aren't pastoring for the money, they are doing it because they feel called. They don't give up being at the bedside of their family members because they want to hold it over you, they do it because they love you, and they see you as their family too.<br />
One of my favorite stories about Mother Teresa is that when they would get donations of bins of shoes, she would always look for the worst pair. When someone asked her about it, they discovered it was because those were the shoes she chose to wear. She wanted to make sure that none of the people she was serving got the worst pair. At the end of her life, her feet were deformed from years of this practice.<br />
The reality is, most pastors do the same. They might not have a bin of shoes to go through and pick out the worst, though I think many of us would do that, if that was all we had. But metaphorically, they do that hard work and make those hard sacrifices.<br />
Despite the sometimes held belief, we do work more than Sunday. We spend hours in prayer over you, we spend hours writing curriculum, stressing over church budgets, studying scripture, and writing sermons. We spend time in our communities getting to know people, and sharing life with them. We spend time grieving when you grieve, and rejoicing when you rejoice. We have gotten up many times in the middle of the night, to drive to houses on fumes in our gas tank, because we love those we serve. We have sometimes gone without, so that we could give you a few dollars that you come to the church desperately needing. We mow lawns, unclog toilets, and make sure the toilet paper is filled for Sunday. We stay up late into the night, and get up early in the morning, because we want to be there for you.<br />
This is most of the pastors I know. They aren't celebrities putting on a show, wearing flashy clothes, and driving expensive cars. They are hard working people who love God and love their communities more than they love themselves, and are trying to live out their calling of service while also just being able to feed their families.<br />
So, by all means, lets have the hard conversations about stewardship. Let's talk about how all of us who are Christians (not just pastors) should be using our money, our time, and our influence. But, let's also take time to walk a mile in the shoes of the majority of pastors, and remember that they cost far less than $2,000, and there's even a chance they are the worst pair out of a free bin, so that you can have the best.RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-47354797963701266192018-04-23T16:10:00.001-05:002018-04-23T16:11:34.878-05:00The Discipleship of Motherhood<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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Nothing has impacted my journey as a disciple, pastor, and person more this year than becoming a mother. Probably nothing has impacted me in my entire life the way motherhood has.<br />
<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A year ago, when a few of us were visiting Greece, I lit a candle in a thousands year old church and said a prayer for a baby, in much the way that Hannah prayed for Samuel. It had been the prayer of our hearts for most of our marriage. We had no idea that at the time that prayer was prayed God was already weaving together a miracle.<br />
<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I don’t know why God chooses some people to bear biological children, and others not to. In my deep Wesleyanism I question if that’s God’s choosing or not, or if that’s just a consequence of free will and chance. But whatever it is, this miracle has deeply transformed my life.<br />
<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I’m forced each moment to be present for someone who doesn’t understand the words wait. I’m forced to think about what it means to illustrate the kingdom of God to one I hope grows to love Jesus and others in ways I can’t even imagine.<br />
<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So now, my discipleship journey looks like changing diapers, and drying tears. It looks like good night kisses, and snuggle sessions. It looks like singing “Jesus loves me” just one more time before bed. It looks like reading the little golden book about God for the hundredth time, the way my mom did for me so many years ago. It looks like long prayers during midnight feedings, that the world might see and know the love of Jesus.<br />
<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It probably goes without saying to say that balancing full time pastoring with full time motherhood is a challenge. I often feel distracted and tired. I feel guilty at times for missing substitute teaching, when I know so many people would give a lot to be able to take their children to work with them every day. A few people have said I’m a superhero, and I don’t feel that way. If anything, motherhood has taught me a lot about my complete and utter dependence on the community of faith and on Jesus.<br />
<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>On my worst days, I have really learned that it takes more than parents to raise a child, it takes the church. This body of Christ together praying, rejoicing, playing, laughing, celebrating, crying, and everything in between. I can’t do this on my own, and my rugged individualism has again had to be chipped away. We need each other.<br />
<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>On Easter Sunday I had the complete honor of baptizing our son into the church. It was easily the highlight of my ministry, but it also was a lesson in discipleship as well. My life is not my own, I know, but my child is not my own either. He was bought by the very life of Jesus, and so I must live each day with this knowledge that this person I have prayed for for years, is to be given to the God who loves him more than I, over and over again. And when he turns his little head to look at me with the deepest love in his eyes, I pray in fervent hope that that is the way he learns to look at Jesus.<br />
<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And, because of those precious baby looks, and those fervent prayers, I am trying my best to learn to look at Jesus that way too, with unending love for the Lord who loves me beyond measure.<br />
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RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-36382566038782179772018-02-21T09:47:00.001-06:002018-02-21T09:47:25.757-06:00From Dust... To Dust <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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New parent anxiety is a real thing. Even in the hospital surrounded by medical professionals, I felt a deep compulsion to check on my newborn son to make sure he was still breathing. This didn't end when we brought him home, and though we taught ourselves to work through it, we still feel the need to ensure our baby is alive. We feel the need to protect him, to shield him, to do whatever it takes to ensure his survival. <div>
So, when Ash Wednesday arrived on the calendar this year, it became even more counter cultural than it had in the past. I walked through the day reflecting on the fact that in a few short hours I would be marking my infant son with ashes and telling him he would day. "From dust you came, to dust you will return."</div>
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My mortality has been wrestled with on more than one Ash Wednesday. It was confronted when I was dipped into the baptismal waters, and was again confronted as I took my ordination vows; my life is not my own. The awareness that I will die is ever before me, and while I hope and pray that it is many years off still, I also know that I would sacrifice my life in a second for those around me. </div>
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The mortality of my son, however, is a different matter. I had spent his first weeks of life in near paranoia at ensuring he stays alive, and here I am, marking him with an acknowledgement of his death. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There are many difficult things I have done as a pastor, but this may have been one of the hardest. We had prayed for this baby for years. I had carried him in my own body for 9 months. We held him in our arms, and had only held him for a few short weeks. But, he's going to die someday. </div>
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The weight of that is something I couldn't have anticipated, despite the obvious truth of it. It lead me to think and pray for my friends and acquaintances who know the awful and painful truth of their child dying. My dad had a son die just days after he was born, and there are countless others with that same excruciating experience. "From dust you came, to dust you shall return". </div>
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Still others were confronted with their child's mortality when words like cancer were uttered in sterile rooms. There are myriad diseases and birth defects which force someone to face after years of dreaming and praying, the reality of "from dust you came, to dust you shall return."</div>
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But here we are, facing the Church calendar and this reality. That all is not well. That the world has been marred by sin and death, and that we too will die. That our friends and family, and yes, even our sweet babies will succumb to the inevitability of death. </div>
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It is counter-cultural in so many ways, because everything is about protecting our children, keeping them safe, shielding them from all the horrors of the world. But it seems the church is communicating something different... your child is not your own, and the call to discipleship extends to them too. The call to carry a cross, the call to follow Christ even unto death, extends to them too. Our responsibility, then, becomes less about protection, and more about preparation. Our call as parents then becomes less about hoarding special moments, and more about releasing our child to bring about good in the world. Our role then is not just to teach our children about the wonders of the world, but to teach them about sacrifice and love for others. </div>
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Ash Wednesday confronted me with a lot of things, but I also told my congregation that while somber, the service is tinged with hope, because the story doesn't end in ashes, the story ends with resurrection. Maybe that is the most powerful thing I embraced this year. I marked my child with a mark of death and grief, but not for the sake of death, rather for the sake of resurrection. </div>
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My prayer for my infant son, on Ash Wednesday and always, then, is that he would embrace death, that he might know resurrection. That though the world will constantly sell him lies about hording goods and moments, that the world will tell him security and safety are his goals, that though the world will say the problems are too big, that he will look at all the challenges, that he will look at all the sin and brokenness, and he will lay down his desires, his wants, his needs, and yes, even his life for the sake of others. I pray that he will look death in the face, in all the places it has control, in all the ways it has robbed this world of joy, that he will look at the ashes of this world, that he will hold them in his hand and he will breathe resurrection life into them. </div>
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It is my prayer that I will learn to release him into all that God has called him to. That I will push against everything that tells me to do whatever it takes to protect and shield him, and that I will instead remind him "from dust you came, to dust you shall return", so that he might be all that God is calling him to be. </div>
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RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-85982454228593713352017-11-28T20:11:00.001-06:002017-11-28T20:11:46.836-06:00Intergenerational Advent Candle Liturgy<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8tFz0C7xIzXrXiIC8XysW03jxNRHvNJ67J8K_5SYWC9TzPeFwLaVNFsoh557Qg_KGunND6HnG91Llmcdvm75p-z9ZgmJIcyveLJ10vkz9ERkbvMB3j3v9PijAxdoaZbfSMeHhYHL6xTs/s1600/Theme_Week_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8tFz0C7xIzXrXiIC8XysW03jxNRHvNJ67J8K_5SYWC9TzPeFwLaVNFsoh557Qg_KGunND6HnG91Llmcdvm75p-z9ZgmJIcyveLJ10vkz9ERkbvMB3j3v9PijAxdoaZbfSMeHhYHL6xTs/s320/Theme_Week_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Advent Candle
Liturgy</span></b><b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Week 1: He is
Coming</span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /> </span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
Each year we light special candles to mark the beginning of a time called
Advent. Do you know what advent means?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
(Responds whether they do or don’t)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
It means that we are anticipating the arrival of something. For us, we are
anticipating, waiting for, and hoping for the arrival of Jesus. A reminder of
Jesus coming as a baby long ago, but hoping for Jesus to come again and make
all things right. There are 4 weeks of Advent, leading up to Christmas, so we
have 4 candles. What are the colors of the candles?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Purple and Pink and White<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
Why do you think they are purple and pink?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
Purple is the color of royalty but also a color that represents us asking
forgiveness. Pink is the week we celebrate joy, that while Jesus is still not
here, we know he is coming soon and we have joy. What do you think the white
candle represents?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
It represents Jesus! We light this candle for the first time on Christmas and
then light it every Sunday throughout the whole year, to remind us that Jesus
is the light of the world. Today we are focusing on Jesus coming. That Jesus
came into our world even though it was full of suffering. How do you think
people feel to know that Jesus is with them, and they don’t have to go through
hard times alone?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
I think it helps us feel hope and comfort to know that Jesus came into the
world at Christmas and that Jesus is coming again. Let’s say a special prayer
that those who are suffering in the world might have hope that Jesus came to
bring light and love to them too. (Light candles)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jesus, help us to have hope this
week. As we light this candle, help us to remember people who are struggling in
darkness still, and who need us to bring the light and love of Jesus with us.
Help us to let them know that they do not need to be alone, but that Jesus
loves them and is with them. Help us to remember that you are coming again to
make all things right. Amen<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Advent Candle
Liturgy<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Week 2: He is
Lord<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
What sort of things do you do at your house to prepare for Christmas?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
We often spend a lot of time getting our houses ready for Christmas. Cleaning
extra for guests, putting up special decorations, cooking delicious foods. In
the midst of all those preparations, we sometimes forget to prepare our hearts
and homes for Jesus. What might it look like to prepare for Jesus?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
It’s difficult when we are so busy to remember to make time for Jesus, but he
is supposed to be the Lord of our life. We are reminded of that this week. John
the Baptist preached about making straight paths for the LORD. We can do that
in our lives too, by making time to learn more about Jesus, by caring and
loving the people around us, by being kind and acting justly towards others.
Sometimes this is really hard to do, because it means changing the way we live
our lives. Are there things you think you can do to prepare your heart for
Jesus?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
This week we are lighting the candle of peace and remembering that Jesus is
LORD. Jesus can bring us peace even in the midst of our crazy lives, and can
help us to share peace with those around us. What are ways you can share peace
this week?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
Let’s say a special prayer that we’d remember to prepare our hearts for the
peace of Jesus this week. (Light Candles)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">God, as we light this candle of
peace, help us to remember that our lives aren’t about clean houses, parties,
and sparkly things. Help us to prepare our hearts for you, that we would know
peace and share peace with the world around us. That we would reorder our lives
in such a way, that you would be LORD over everything. Amen<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Advent Candle
Liturgy<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Week 3: He is
Light<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
Today we are going to light the pink candle. Do you remember what the pink
candle represents?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
The pink candle represents joy! As the birth of Jesus gets closer, we have joy
that it is coming soon, and this week we are remembering that Jesus is light.
Lots of children are afraid of the dark. Are you afraid of the dark?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
The darkness often makes ordinary things seem scary, and sometimes life seems
dark too. There are lots of scary, sad, and lonely things that happen in life.
It can feel like we are living in darkness. You might have had scary, sad, and
lonely things happen to you even. When it’s dark though, what helps us to see?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Answers (hopefully with light!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
Yes! Light helps get rid of the darkness so we can see. John the Baptist told
the people that while they had been living in darkness waiting for a light to
come, that light had come, and his name was Jesus! Jesus came to shine light in
dark places, so we can see and we no longer have to be afraid. How do you feel
knowing that Jesus came to be the light?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
Todays candle is the candle of joy, and we have joy because our lives aren’t
dark, but Jesus brought us light. We can go and share the light of Jesus with
others too, that they might have joy as well. What are some ways we can do that
this week?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
Let’s say a special prayer as we light the candle of joy, that God would help
us to share the light with others this week. (light candle)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">God, as we light this candle, help us
to remember that you are the light, and to share that light with the world
around us. Help us have strength and courage to shine bright wherever we go
that others might not be afraid, or sad, or lonely, but that they can know that
you are with them and you can bring them joy. Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Advent Candle
Liturgy<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Week 4: She is
Chosen<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
Have you ever been chosen for a special task? Maybe you were picked to be line
leader at school, or for a special part in a play?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
How did you feel to be chosen for such a special task?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
Today we remember Mary who was chosen for a very important task, she was chosen
to be the mother of Jesus. It would have been a hard decision for her to be the
mother of Jesus, it could have cost her all her friends. It would have cost her
her reputation. It could have cost her her husband. It very well could have
cost her her very life, and yet she said yes to being Jesus’ mother. Why do you
think she’d say yes when she had so much to lose?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
Being chosen is very special and can sometimes be very scary too. God has
chosen all of us for a special task as well, to share his love with the world.
It took a lot of love for Mary to become the mother of Jesus, and it takes a
lot of love for us to care for the world too. What are some ways we can love
others this week?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Child:
Answers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adult:
As we light the love candle this week, let’s say a special prayer that God
would help us to love God and others well. (Light Candle)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <i>God,
we know it took a lot of love for Mary to choose to have Jesus as her son. It
takes a lot for us to follow you sometimes, so help us to love you that much
too, that we would give up everything for you. Help us to love the other people
around us as well, that they might see your love in us. Amen<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Advent Candle
Liturgy<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Christ Candle<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Pastor:
Today we light the Christ candle. We remember that Christ is the light of the
world, that Christ has come, and that he will come again. He has promised to
come and make all things right. We carry a part of this light with us wherever
we go, so this morning, as we leave this place, we will each light our own
candle from the light of the Christ Candle, as a reminder to share that light
with the world around us. To let our little lights shine in a dark world. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> This is our benediction this morning.
To walk into the world with the light of Jesus, that we might declare boldly
that Christ has come and will come again, and that we are to shine the light of
Jesus to the world around us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> (Light Christ Candle… then light small
candles while singing a Christmas Carol)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-41983524514897372092016-11-03T10:52:00.002-05:002016-11-03T11:27:42.513-05:00The Danger in Nostalgia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There is nostalgia in egg salad for me. As a girl, my small church would have linger-longers on occasion, where we would, well, linger longer after the Sunday night church services over finger foods and lemonade. It was here that I developed a love for egg salad.<br />
I get the same sense of nostalgia for the church of my childhood, when I eat lemon sandwich cookies. My preschool Sunday school teacher would bring them each week as a snack, and even just the scent of them brings me back to those small plastic chairs.<br />
There are many things that trigger nostalgia for me (apparently many pertaining to food), frozen cokes from the Meijer gas station, the cool crisp air combined with high school football stadium lights, the smell of apple cider, reading "the Chronicles of Narnia", hearing Amy Grant or Michael W Smith on the radio, the smell of freshly milled grain, the feel of Lake Michigan sand under my feet, and the way it sounds after a heavy snowfall. These moments take me back to my childhood, to fond memories, and happy events.<br />
I have fond memories of God too. Memories of praying at altars in my church, of church camps with PR bands from the denominational college, and of revival speakers with passion. I remember testimony time on Sunday nights in my little church, and the stories that the old women would tell, and think how someday I wanted to be able to share those same type of stories.<br />
At times I would love to transport myself back there, to curl up in the safety and security that those times seemed to bring me. The smells of childhood Christmas and having all of my family together again, is a memory I would like to transport myself into. If I could wake up just one more time on a Saturday morning in my Little Foot pajamas and smell my moms biscuits and gravy, and have all my siblings at home, I would probably do it in a heartbeat,<br />
In recent days there has been a cultural push to "go back", and I understand why, but there is a danger in living in nostalgia. Nostalgia often remembers the warm feelings of our youth at the expense of the bigger picture, and it leads us to a discontentment for where we are now.<br />
My mom told me a story about how when she was a child there were nights where they had popcorn for dinner. This is a fond memory for her, a nostalgic memory, because having popcorn for dinner was a great treat. Looking back now she realizes that at the time, that was all her parents could afford to feed them. What is a nostalgic memory for her, would be (if my grandparents were still alive) a very stressful and heart wrenching memory for them. No one wants to only feed their children popcorn. Trying to go back to that nostalgic moment, while seemingly warm and cozy, misses the bigger picture of what is going on. A child can not live on popcorn alone, and parents that can only provide that feel desperate and scared.<br />
This weekend the movie "Loving" will be released. It is about when, just a short time ago, interracial marriage was legalized. A nostalgia for a past prior to this misses the reality that my marriage wouldn't be legal. A nostalgia for a past where prayer was a legal part of the school day, misses out on the children not allowed to be in school with children who looked different or believed different than them. A nostalgia for a past where we had a job, misses the bigger picture that while things might have been great for us, they weren't for everyone. A nostalgia for a past where we were raised by a stay at home mom, might miss the bigger picture that she had other dreams she wanted to fulfill, but wasn't empowered to do so.<br />
There is always a bigger picture in the midst of our nostalgic dreams, and if we aren't careful, we can get so caught up in those memories that our entire lives are consumed by them. In the midst of being consumed by our longing for a past that only existed for us, we are completely missing out on the present. If we are constantly trying to go back to how things used to be, we do a disservice to ourselves and the people around us in the present.<br />
We are missing out on creating new memories, on creating new movements of justice, on trying new foods, and visiting new places.<br />
If my nostalgia trapped me in the world of egg salad and lemon cookies, I never would have discovered how much I love to bake pies, or scones. I never would have learned how much I love lobster rolls and sushi. I would be missing out on the beauty of the now, the beauty of my every day moments. The smells, the sounds, the tastes, the sights, that are all around me.<br />
But our nostalgia is not limited to childhood food and memories, this desire for a nostalgic past is present in our spirituality as well. In our churches, in our faith communities and denominations we can get so caught up in the nostalgic ways that the Holy Spirit has moved in the past, that we forget to see where the Holy Spirit is moving now. We become a bit like Lots wife, longing so much to look backwards, that if we aren't careful we will become a pillar of salt.<br />
My childhood is filled with tremendous memories of how God moved in my past, that's why I have such nostalgia when I think of my childhood church, and the people who were there. However, to try to go back to that, would rob my congregation of those same type of memories. It would rob them of movements of God that are happening now. Celebrating and recognizing the ways that God is at work now, as different as that may look from my childhood, does not diminish what God did in the past. However, being so consumed by the past that I can't see where God is working now, robs me and others of the kingdom of God in our midst.<br />
It is right and good to remember the ways God was faithful, what God has done, and the ways God has moved, but God is not in the past. God is the I AM, and is present now. If we are too busy looking backwards, we will miss the I AM in the now. We will miss the ways that God is speaking, that God is moving, that God is raising up and calling people. This might look very different than the cozy safe memories of childhood, but at some point we must grow up out of childhood in order to pass on the faith to those who come after us.<br />
Where is the I AM now? I sense that presence of God every time I receive the Eucharist, a moment of remembrance that doesn't push me into nostalgia, but a grace that is present with me in that moment, and then sends me out into the world in peace. I see the I AM when a 3 year old embraces my mother in law at church on a Sunday morning and calls her grandma, despite no blood relationship. The Holy Spirit is moving in the hard questions of my friends, who are finding a renewed sense of hope in faith. The I AM is at work when justice is done in the name of love.<br />
It is important to remember, but we must not allow our remembrances to become an idol to move to a nostalgic past, disregarding the larger picture. We must also remember that it is the present in which we live, and that we serve a God that is ever present with us. The past has it's place, but it's the present that is here. We must embrace it. We must celebrate it. We must be present, because this is the only time we have, and the I AM is here too, in our midst, bringing the kingdom here on earth as it is in heaven. Are we present enough to see it?RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-17581857978530075422016-10-18T19:05:00.002-05:002016-10-18T19:05:41.262-05:00Showing Up: The Power of Presence <br />
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As pastors we are often told that part of our role is embodying the presence of Jesus for others. Incarnational imagery is often invoked to inspire us to be Jesus to those we meet; just as God left the glory of heaven to put on humanity and dwell among us, we are to dwell among people as well, mourning with those who mourn, and being present with people during the greatest joys and greatest tragedies of their lives.<br />
Our very presence is supposed to illustrate the presence of God to people. Our presence is important. Just showing up and being there, is important. Whether that be in a hospital room or a coffee shop, our presence matters. <br />
As a woman in ministry, I've discovered there is another layer to the importance of showing up. When a clergywoman shows up something is said about God. The presence of God looks female with the challenges and joys that come along with that.<br />
While waiting in the dinner line at the reception for a wedding I had just officiated, a woman approached me. She was probably in her mid 60's and had the sweetest smile. Her hand rested gently on my arm as she said "My heart was full when I saw you officiating the wedding. When I was young, women could only do two things, be a teacher (which I was) or be a nurse. As those two little flower girls walked down the aisle towards you, all I could think was 'they will know they can do anything, because they are seeing a woman pastor. You did such a beautiful job, and I want to encourage you to keep doing what you are doing."<br />
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My eyes welled up a bit as she spoke. It might be the sweetest compliment I have ever received after a wedding, but it also illustrated to me the importance of presence, something I often forget.<br />
I forget that when I get behind a pulpit on a Sunday morning, that just my presence communicates something to the little girls in the front row, with their children's bulletins on their laps.<br />
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It tells them that they are created in the image of God, and that they can share that image with others. It tells them that God calls and uses everyone for the kingdom. They will never have to be told that despite what they have seen, women can be pastors, preachers, teachers, and leaders, they will just know, because they've seen it week after week. </div>
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I forget that when I show up to a wedding, filled with people from various backgrounds and views, that my presence says something to them. That it tells them that God loves women too. That marriage isn't about some sort of patriarchal submission but that it's a beautiful partnership where two can lead together. </div>
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I forget that when I tell students in my classrooms that I am a pastor, that they hear something powerful. That within that small phrase, and that small act, they imagine something different than what many of them have seen. That they start to imagine a world for themselves that they've never thought of before. </div>
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I forget that when I stand behind the altar and break the bread and pour the wine, that many will see it in a new light because of my presence there. That they will see the broken and spilled out Jesus in a new way. That when I hold babies over the baptismal font, that the image becomes one of a mother bathing her child, and the image of sacrifice becomes something powerful when words of death and life are spoken within that context. </div>
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I forget that when I show up at theology conferences, or district assembly, that there are young women, older women, and children who are watching. That by standing up front, that by singing in the elder's choir, that by being there, people are learning something about God, and that they are learning something about women, and how God views women. </div>
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So when an older woman approaches me with tears in her eyes and tells me to "keep being faithful to God's call in your life" and she calls to mind all the little girls and women who saw something different because it was me who officiated the wedding, I listen, and I tear up myself, and I promise myself that I will remember.</div>
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I will remember that what I do matters. Showing up matters. My presence matters. Every Sunday, every coffee meeting, every wedding, every hospital visit, every district meeting, every opportunity to serve the Eucharist, every time I preach, every time I sit with those who grieve, every time I baptize a baby or a new saint, every single time I show up... it matters. I hope I never forget. </div>
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RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-91680417402990545932016-09-23T16:02:00.000-05:002016-09-23T16:25:38.004-05:00Not a Job: Redefining Life as a Spouse<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Several days ago I was teaching in a high school classroom. A female student was bemoaning the fact that when she returned home in the afternoon, she would have to clean the house. I told her, "if it makes you feel better, I also have to clean the house."<br>
A boy chimed in "well, yeah, of course, that's because you are the mom." To which I said "I'm not a mom."<br>
His response, "well, wife, whatever, it's still your job to clean the house."<br>
I took a deep breath for a second with a follow up statement, "I need to rephrase what I said earlier. When I said that I had to clean the whole house I meant, my husband and I have to clean the house. We are equals. It's neither my job or his job to clean the house, it's both of our responsibility because we both live there. We both cook, we both clean, we both are responsible, because we both live there. We are partners."<br>
The boy shook his head and rolled his eyes a bit, but the girl, her eyes got big and a smile broke out as she said "that sounds like an amazing relationship."<br>
It seems a bit odd to me that in 2016 I am having this conversation with high school students. This idea that women and men are equals, that our roles are not defined by some sort of biological mandate. That my husband and I can co-lead in our home, and co-care for our home is noteworthy seems strange, because to us that is life, and it just makes sense.<br>
This idea of co-responsibility was pronounced after hearing a pastor's spouse reference that being a pastor's wife is "the best job in the world".<br>
I asked my husband in the car later, "Is being my husband a job for you? Do you see being a pastor's husband as a job?" He laughed with a hearty no, to my great relief. <br>
Because the language of job sounds like a chore (this is also why I often refer to the work I do at church as a vocation, because it is something other than a job for me in many ways), like something one must do out of obligation, versus out of love, care, and respect. I don't want to be someone's job, least of all my husbands, I want to be his wife.<br>
While I am not a fan of doing dishes or laundry, and neither is my husband, I don't want those to be seen as jobs either, as much as I want them to be seen as things we do to make our lives better, to support one another, and to love one another. To be good stewards of our belongings, we take care of them. I am not always great at this and often bemoan the fact that I have to restart the washing machine, again, because I forgot the clothes while attending to the 50 other tasks on my to do list. It is a goal I strive for.<br>
There are issues with the language of a spouse as a job outside of these initial issues as well.<br>
First, there is still this prevailing issue in the church that when you hire a pastor, you get the spouse free! The old joke about asking at pastoral interviews "does your wife play piano?" still rings true in many places. This places an extreme burden on a pastor's spouse, to do just as much as his spouse does, but to get little to no recognition for it. There have been multiple articles and blog posts written (mostly by pastor's wives, I have yet to find a pastor's husband one, though I am sure they exist) about the alienation and frustrations they feel by this phenomenon. My own husband has referenced his own frustrations at times, at feeling like he in a sense has to punch a time clock, when he has been expected to show up at every single church event, and even more so, when things he says on social media are judged as being a reflection on me, without considering that he and I probably discussed the topic before it even made it to social media!<br>
The language of job also lends itself into complementarianism. I have heard women time and time again talk about the job of being a wife and a mother, but I haven't heard the same rhetoric used by men (the exception being that I hear men speak about "babysitting" their own children, and I don't hear moms say that.) "The most important job I have is being a mom." Is a common phrase I've heard from women of all ages. I 100% get what they are saying, raising children is an incredibly important task, but sometimes I fear the language of job supersedes the language of relationship. Where the relationship between men and women are concerned, it lends itself to saying that it is the woman's job to take care of the children, to be a good wife, to take care of the home, while the husband has a job outside of the home, to provide for the family. This really diminishes both women and men. While seeking to elevate being a wife and mother, it makes it seem the same as punching a clock each day. It does the exact opposite of what it is trying to achieve, while also placing men and women in distinct gender roles.<br>
I prefer to say it this way, being a wife is the most important relationship (after God) I have right now, and if I have children, they will be the second most important relationship. A relationship goes 2 ways, it must be fostered, cared for, and nurtured. There is no time clock to punch, there is no day off, because relationships are different than jobs.<br>
When we have relationships with friends, our expectations are that there is give and take, that we are equals, that we are there for one another, that we care for one another, etc. We would never think to call being a friend a "job", despite friendship being a less important relationship in our life than what we have with our spouse. Our expectations with our spouse should be the same, that there is give and take, that we are equals, that we are there for one another, that we care for one another, even MORE so than we do with our friends.<br>
It might seem minuscule or unimportant, but I realized that day in a high school classroom how closely those who come behind us are watching us. They are watching and defining their value, they are defining what relationships will look like for them, and I hope that in this small way, we will learn to think less of our family as a job, and more as... well... a family.RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-90055260351499524642016-09-13T18:53:00.001-05:002016-09-13T18:53:29.123-05:00Back to School Block Party<br />
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<i>(This is long past overdue, but I wanted to be sure to have tons of pictures of this event. I've also been incredibly busy. Such is the life of a bi-vocational pastor! Thank you all for reading! For your patience, for your prayers, for your love. I promise to be back to blogging more regularly from now on!) </i><br />
<i> </i>I lost count of how many 12 hour days I put in the 2 weeks preceding our block party event. It was the biggest event I have ever attempted in my entire professional career. I'm not a big event person, and so I tend to opt for intimate settings where deep discussion has room to cultivate, but I made an exception, because I so deeply care for the kids in my neighborhood (and city), and I know the difficulties of paying for school supplies, plus I do like a good party.<br />
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The idea of a back to school block party was formed, in order to just really celebrate with our neighbors, to get school supplies into the hands of students, and say thank you to any teachers who might attend.<br />
Our goal was to see 150 people walk through the door, just to know they are loved and that we are here in the neighborhood. Filling 150 grab bags was no small feat, and I am so grateful I had tons of help to do it. We wanted to ensure that every kid that walked through the door had at the minimum, basic school supplies to start school.<br />
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We were overwhelmed by the generosity of others as we were able to fill all 150 bags with a pencil case (including pencils, erasers, pens, etc.), a folder, and a notebook, as well as some candy and other treats. </div>
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Another goal of ours was to bless any teacher that came through the door with a thank you gift. Whatever we got that could go in a bin for teachers, we would put together. The outpouring of love from others enabled us to fill 30 bins with kleenex, dry erase markers, hand sanitizer, post it notes, pens, pencils, rulers, motivational stickers, a stocked pencil case to give to a student in need, AND a gift card to get coffee. These were beautifully put together by a high school volunteer.</div>
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During the night we had 3 Chinese teachers (they teach Chinese language and culture in our school system) wander in. They told me they were just walking by and had only been in the country for 2 weeks. Two of them had never been to the United States before. I gave them their gifts, and they kept saying "oh no! We can't accept this! What did we do to deserve this?" We just smiled and told them that we wanted to say thank you, and help them in their new classrooms this year. They were overjoyed and I was so blessed to meet them. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnteamrM8HFWkRnfjjCuRThyta-0rZZiJyLKCfJfsKmrfUHELlJhihyhfFGS9XeEzg6Cfo8kwrFHzdui4EICirJcCmWW29Xp5zxExsd5aI9J16JO-1IPHi9V4tYiqpcHnl9GfknHgm7Bo/s1600/IMG_20160806_170904318_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnteamrM8HFWkRnfjjCuRThyta-0rZZiJyLKCfJfsKmrfUHELlJhihyhfFGS9XeEzg6Cfo8kwrFHzdui4EICirJcCmWW29Xp5zxExsd5aI9J16JO-1IPHi9V4tYiqpcHnl9GfknHgm7Bo/s320/IMG_20160806_170904318_HDR.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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But this story is more than just a story about a successful event (how do we define success anyway), it's really a story about the faithfulness of God and what can happen when God's people come together. You see that guy overseeing the cooler filling? He pastors at another church on our district, and he and another pastor from their church, brought a bunch of volunteers to help us with this event. It wasn't a competition, it was just God's people helping each other out to do great things. Not only that, their church, Duneland Community Church, did a beverage drive for us which enabled us to have so many awesome drinks at our event. The kingdom of God looks like churches coming together to love others. </div>
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We also had live rap music by amazing artist Da Mac, who drove here from Missouri to bless us with his talent and gifts. The audience was overjoyed, the oldest to the youngest were dancing, and we saw a glimpse of the kingdom of God through rap music in a 70 year old sanctuary. It was beautiful. </div>
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We made new friends and partners in Faith, who has a non-profit called Purple Diamonds Inc, and Moe, who owns and operates her own barber shop. They prayed over our event, and partnered with us, passing out flyers, donating supplies and time, and giving free hair cuts to nearly every student that came through the doors. Sometimes the kingdom of God looks like haircuts near the platform in a sanctuary, and strangers becoming friends.<br />
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Our church hosts Al-Anon a couple nights a week, and our ladies were at the door to greet all of our attendees. They were our greatest cheerleaders of the night, telling everyone about our church, and talking about hope and healing with our neighbors. Sometimes the kingdom of God looks like neighbors helping neighbors. </div>
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We put a big bounce house in the back of our sanctuary and it was a hit! Kids would walk in with faces lit up, and the laughter and shouts resounded through the building. Sometimes the kingdom of God shows up in the noise of children. </div>
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That night the kingdom of God looked like chaos and laughter, like yard games and hot dogs, like hair cuts and bounce houses. It sounded like rap music and laughter, squeals and conversation. It sounded like a beautiful cacophony of neighbors coming together, of the Church coming together to be the Church, in perfectly imperfect and messy ways. God showed up, and the biggest way God showed up was through the people of God. </div>
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Through people who gave money, who gave time, who sent box upon box of school supplies, who prayed, who volunteered. God showed up through all of you, and our lives, and the lives of our neighborhood will forever be touched because God showed up through people like you! </div>
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The kingdom of God is alive in Hammond, we are just grateful we got to see a glimpse of it on a hot summer night this August. We are excited to see where the kingdom of God will be glimpsed next. </div>
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<br />RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-69588863079447711962016-08-16T11:08:00.003-05:002016-08-16T11:08:39.906-05:00Trouble with Toilets <br />
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<i>If you read nothing else in this blog, read the bold paragraph at the end on how sanitation is an issue globally, and how YOU can keep the generosity going, by helping those in need!</i><br />
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There are certain things you can't learn about ministry from a textbook, things that must be experienced to understand. For example, the unspoken ministry law that things will not break on a normal Monday, on a week where nothing is scheduled and you have hours of uninterrupted time to call a plumber/electrician/roofer/contractor/etc. to solve the problem. Things WILL break when you have a church full of people, kids arriving for vacation bible school in just a few hours, and a big event on the schedule in just over a week. These are things they do not teach you when preparing for the ministry.<br />
It was a Tuesday afternoon when the missions team that was staying with us from Tulsa informed me the toilets weren't flushing in the women's restroom. I went to investigate the problem and discovered that none of the toilets were flushing. I then asked the men if the toilet in the men's room was flushing, it was not. The time was 4:30. with VBS scheduled to start at 6pm.<br />
The plumber showed up a half hour before 6, which meant we were paying overtime for what we hoped would be a small problem (like I said, in ministry problems don't conveniently arise, you must pay overtime). I was asked a bunch of questions I had no idea how to answer. The main part of our building is 77 years old, I have no idea where the pipes go, or what a clean out valve even is (I learned). Thus, instead of any easy fix, we scheduled for a camera to be run through all the pipes the next day.<br />
I got to see into the literal bowels of the church. Which was a bit intriguing (and at times a bit gross). I learned there used to be another toilet in the church under our back stairwell. I learned AGAIN that doing things the cheapest way might pay off for a short time, but costs a lot more money in the long run.<br />
The problem was bigger than we thought. The wrong type of pipe, installed incorrectly, and then where the clean out valve was, was covered in cement (which defeats the whole purpose of a clean out valve). It was going to take some time and money to fix it.... money and time we didn't have.<br />
The missions team didn't complain once about the hundredth time they had to run over to our house to use the restroom, the VBS kids ran home if they needed to go, so the week went amazingly better than it could have, but we had our huge block party on the schedule and needed our toilets.<br />
This is where the story gets good, so if you skimmed over the actual toilet issues, stop skimming and read this part. We asked people to pray for our toilets. It's a bit silly, because with all the issues in the world, this seems so silly, but our toilets enable us to do ministry here in ways you don't think of, until you don't have them. We asked that God would provide in profound ways, and that the pipe could be fixed before our block party.<br />
The total cost was $2,943. That is a lot for anyone, but especially for our little church plant.<br />
I said to the plumber at one point "I hate that we are spending money on this, when we could be spending money on helping people." He looked at me and said "You can't help people if you don't have toilets. The money you are spending on this IS helping people."<br />
I was convicted as I thought of the times people have rushed in just to use our toilets. When homeless people have come in for a cup of coffee and to use the restroom. The countless kids and adults on Sunday mornings who use the facilities. The Al-Anon ladies on Tuesday nights and Friday mornings who drive from neighboring towns. Not to mention, I use those restrooms regularly, and I am able to have office hours and hold meetings with people because I have restrooms. The plumber was right, this was important.<br />
On the recommendation of a friend, we put together a GoFundMe page. To raise $2500. We could handle any expenses over that, it might put our account at zero.... again... but at least the problem would be solved. In just over week, we exceeded the $2500!!! We raised $2943!!!<br />
God's people were mobilized, some gave a little, some gave a lot. Some were Nazarenes, many were not. They gave to help us continue our work here. God is good! God's people are good! We are grateful!<br />
Not only were we able to raise the funds, but the work took less time than anticipated, and we did not need to rent port-a-potties for our event.<br />
We have learned a lot from this experience. The first being, make sure to do things right the first time, because it benefits people for a long time to do so. More importantly, we learned again that God is faithful, and that God uses God's people to do great things. We learned that when churches aren't in competition with each other, when God's people aren't bickering and arguing, but work together on something, great things happen. It was this working together, that enable us to keep doing our ministry. That enable us to have toilets for the homeless at times, that enable me to have office hours, that enable us to host huge back to school events.<br />
We are humbled and stunned by the faithfulness of God, and we are challenged to never take seemingly small things for granted again. Things like the ministry of toilets, or the giving of a $10 gift. These small acts, even these small things done in great love, have potential to change the world for good.<br />
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<li><b> Having access to sanitation is a huge issue worldwide. Yesterday was world portable sanitation day, to raise awareness for access to portable sanitation. This is especially important for our homeless brothers and sisters, but for others world wide. Learn more here! <a href="http://psai.org/world-portable-sanitation-day/">http://psai.org/world-portable-sanitation-day/</a> </b></li>
<li><b>Also 2.5 billion people worldwide don't have access to proper sanitation. There are MANY articles and organizations that talk about this here's the stats from WHO <a href="http://www.who.int/water_sanitation_health/hygiene/en/">http://www.who.int/water_sanitation_health/hygiene/en/</a> </b></li>
<li><b> If you are looking for a way to help, or you wanted to help with our toilet issue but were unable, I encourage you to look into World Vision's program WASH, as they seek to provide sustainable clean water and sanitation to those in need around the world! For more info or to give check out <a href="http://www.wvi.org/cleanwater">http://www.wvi.org/cleanwater</a>. </b></li>
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<b>As my plumber said "having toilets enables ministry to happen." I'll take it further, sometimes toilets are a ministry in themselves. You don't notice it until you don't have it. I've seen God mobilize God's people in our church, let's keep that going, and change the world!!</b>RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-41789461458417170542016-08-08T12:05:00.000-05:002016-08-08T12:05:21.499-05:00Tulsa First UMC The last 2 weeks are still being processed in my mind. The pure chaos of everything over the last few days, mixed with the complete joy of seeing the kingdom of God at work, is resonating in my heart as I try to find the words to describe it all. The amazement at how God has moved, has made it difficult to write about, because I am still in complete shock at times.<br />
We hosted our first missions team 2 summers ago. We had only been here for 5 weeks, and the church was so full of stuff and mice, that they had to squeeze into our home and sleep on the floors. The bulk of their work was just cleaning out things so that we could even begin to think about ministry.<br />
Last week we hosted our only missions team of the summer, and what a difference 2 years makes. They got to worship in church service with us on Sunday. A service that was only a dream 2 years ago, was now a reality, and they got to take part. They interacted with people from the community almost every day of the trip, through vacation bible school, and through the random visits I am now getting on a much more regular basis.<br />
The presence of God was so present in their laughter, in their music, in their love for others, it re-energized me in a way that only being in the presence of teenagers can (a large piece of my heart still belongs to youth ministry).<br />
They did a lot of seemingly small things, that enables us to do ministry. Because we are still a small congregation, it is difficult to stay on top of tasks outside of the most important maintenance. Deep cleaning, weeding, organizing, etc. don't happen very often, because we just don't have time or the man power to do it all. This group did so much of that, which enables us to do ministry.<br />
They organized , a LOT!<br />
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They weeded out in the hot sun.</div>
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They painted.</div>
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They sorted tons of bras for Free the Girls, to help sex trafficking survivors around the world.</div>
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My favorite thing they did this whole week, was pour their lives into the lives of the kids in our church and community with their tremendous joy and willingness to look silly for the kingdom of God through our simple Vacation Bible School. </div>
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God showed up in amazing ways this week. In the silly and in the small, God was there.</div>
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I told the group, they will never know the impact all of these seemingly small things have done for the kingdom, but that's how the kingdom of God is. The kingdom is like a mustard seed, it's small, but it grows.</div>
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These small acts of kindness, of service, of compassion, of humility, are already growing. They have already enabled and equipped me to spend more time doing the relationship side of ministry, versus the maintenance side of ministry. They energized our congregation. They made the kids in our church feel so loved and valued. We will forever be impacted by the great work and the deep prayers of the people of Tulsa First United Methodist Church. Their gifts will grow and multiply into great things here in Hammond and beyond, and are so blessed to add them to the list of our extended God family we've had the great pleasure of meeting this side of glory. </div>
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RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-48866138864010583332016-06-29T14:07:00.000-05:002016-06-29T14:07:10.479-05:00How Questions Lead to Holiness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I remember being about 3 or 4 years old, riding in the backseat of my brother's car on the way home from church. I was sitting pondering the world, and looking out the window, when I asked my college aged brother, "What is God?" He looked back a bit perplexed, and so I expanded my question. "I mean, He's not a ghost, and He's not a person, not with skin and a body like us. So what is God? Like, what is God made out of?" I don't remember the answer my brother gave me, but I don't remember him scoffing, or shutting down the conversation either. Whatever his answer was, it satisfied my young mind, but this memory of asking questions, of asking perplexing theological questions, is one of the earliest memories I have.<br />
As I grew, the questions didn't end. After Sunday morning worship service, I would often walk up to my mom while she was preparing dinner and ask all of the perplexing questions I had from the sermon that morning. "If the devil is a real person with free will, than does the devil have free will to repent and re-enter heaven? Or is it too late? Is there a point where it's too late to repent? What does that tell us about God?" She never shied away from my questions or told me to stop asking them, despite not always having an answer. Sometimes her answer being "won't it be great that someday we can ask Jesus all of our questions!"<br />
After bombarding her with thousands of questions she finally told me to write them down as I had them, and to ask my pastor prior to the evening church service. I did just that.<br />
I would walk into church on Sunday nights, and search all over for my pastor, with my list in hand. He took the time to go through each and every question I had, to the best of his ability, at times even reaching for his systematic theology notebook from seminary. Sometimes asking if we could resume the conversation after the service, which of course only lead to more questions.<br />
He gave me books about world religions, and helped me to delve even more deeply into the scriptures. He never turned away from my questions, but continued to challenge me in my thinking. Those questions often led to other questions, questions I'm still continuing to ask.<br />
Now I am a pastor myself, and I think at times that people perceive us as the people with the answers. That we sat through classes on Biblical Hermeneutics and Theology 101 to have better answers for our congregation, but I have learned that being a pastor is so very little about having the right answers, and so much more about asking the right questions.<br />
-Who is God?<br />
- What should our response to God be?<br />
-What is Love?<br />
-Is love even a what, or is love a who?<br />
- How do we live love in light of what/who love is?<br />
- What is the church?<br />
- Is the church a what, or is it a who?<br />
-What does it mean to be the church?<br />
- What does it mean to be free from sin?<br />
This is such a small sampling of questions that I ask, and that we ask as Christians. Our congregation wrestles with these questions on a regular basis, in recent weeks we've wrestled with "What does it mean to love my enemies?", "What does freedom in Christ look like?", and "What should our response to the terrorist attacks in Florida be?".<br />
However, I have seen people fear questions. As someone who has always asked questions, it is perplexing to me as to why? Which only leads me to more questions. Why are some people afraid of questions? Why are some people afraid of those who ask lots of questions?<br />
It perplexes me, because I believe that ultimately it is questions that lead us to holiness. A professor of mine used to say "you are never more holy than when you are confessing." It seems that that our questions are what ultimately leads us to confession.<br />
Someone asks "Who is my neighbor?" Which leads to a story about a man getting robbed and beaten on the side of the road. The religious leaders pass by out of fear of touching a dead body, or blood, making them unclean. Hoping to uphold the law. Then a man, who is by every definition of the word an outcast, an enemy to the man hurting and bleeding, and he is the one who picks him up. Who bandages his wounds and pays for his care. Who goes above and beyond to meet his needs.<br />
We learn from our questions that it was this man who was truly being a neighbor, which leads us to pray "Oh LORD have mercy on me a sinner! For I walked by on the other side instead of meeting my neighbor's needs. Forgive me, and help me to see those around me as my neighbor!" It is in that moment, that great moment of confession that we are made holy, as God is faithful to hear our cries and forgive us.<br />
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It is this movement, this progression from question to confession to holiness that moves the liturgy of many of our churches. This is part of why we go from the sermon (questions and story), to a prayer of confession, to the Eucharist. It is a progression that reminds us of who we are and whose we are, that ultimately we might better serve the world. That we might ultimately look more like Jesus.<br />
Shutting down questions does not just shut down conversations that are uncomfortable for us to have, but inevitably it shuts down room for confession which ultimately creates roadblocks on the path of holiness.<br />
If we truly want to be a holy people, we must first and foremost be a people who ask questions. Who don't shut down conversations, but wrestle in the hard work of moving towards confession together. We must respond like Jesus did to the questions around him, the questions of "who is my neighbor?", "how can I be born again?", and "where can i find this well, so I might drink and never be thirsty?" not with criticism, not with an arrogance that we know all of the answers, but with the embrace my brother, my mom, and my childhood pastor gave me. We must respond with stories and more questions, that we might confess together "Lord, I need to be a better neighbor", "Lord help me to be born again", and "Lord, I am dry, fill me again with your living water." That we might ultimately be made holy through the grace of the Holy Spirit who is faithful to forgive.<br />
May we ask more questions. May we listen and embrace those who are asking questions. May these questions ultimately lead us to confession that we do not have all the answers, and that we are so very dependent on the grace of a great God that we are far too small to comprehend. May that confession lead us to be the holy nation of God, a people set apart for God's great work in the world.<br />
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<br />RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-36906864833327821142016-06-17T17:28:00.003-05:002016-06-17T17:28:48.050-05:00Things my Dad Never Said <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've written a lot about my mom. She is a wealth of stories of grace, mercy, and love. She is also, a lot like me. We are both extroverts who love to talk, we both love people, we both love to be around our family, and we both get deeply wounded when people don't notice or appreciate us. We drive each other absolutely crazy, and no one shows me how short I fall than her; moving away was probably the single best thing for our relationship. We are very much alike.<br />
I do not write much about my dad. It is not because there aren't stories of grace, mercy, and love where he is concerned, but rather because he is nothing like me.<br />
My mom once administered a personality test to my dad and I side by side. With each question we were to answer on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being that the statements sounded most like us, 1 being that the statement didn't sound like us at all. Whenever I would shout out an enthusiastic 10, my dad would say something like "Is there an option lower than a 1." We are opposites.<br />
Where I am loud and outgoing, he is quiet and reserved. Where I prefer to be the center of attention, he prefers to sink as much into the background as possible. When we would have parties I would seek out the action, and my dad could often be found outside, unless of course the party was outside, then he would be found inside. He is a man of few words, while I am a woman of too many.<br />
In reflecting on my dad, I often gravitate towards his quiet nature. He isn't one to make bold declarations of love, but I learned in college that his "I got your oil changed and put gas in your car" was just as much a statement of love as a hallmark card.<br />
Most people reflect a lot on the great things their dads have said to them that have molded them and shaped them, but I really think that I am equally shaped by the many things my dad never said to me. Those silences, whether intentional or not, helped to form and shape me as much as the words did.<br />
Here are a few of the things my dad never said:<br />
My dad never told me to go change my clothes. I don't know if he ever wanted to or not, but his silence on this matter gave me a lot of confidence. It taught me that I was a human being, and not just a sexual object to cover. I have a lot less baggage to work through than many of my friends, about body image, because I was never told to "cover up" or change.<br />
My dad never told me to change my hair. When I walked into the house at 18 with my blonde hair dyed black, my dad didn't say a single thing about it. I had no need to rebel, to push boundaries or limits, because my dad didn't make a big deal out of things like hair and makeup. He let me be my own person with very little commentary, which made me a person who is far less judgmental of the people around me, and a person who didn't need to push the envelope to feel complete.<br />
My dad never told me who I could and couldn't date. He trusted me enough as a young adult and adult to make good decisions. If I had asked, I'm sure he would have given his opinion, but he never came out guns blazing about needing to protect me, or the type of guy I should be with. I never had to bring a bad boy home just to frustrate my father, I never had to try and impress him, I just had space to learn who I liked without the fear of approval or disapproval from a parent.<br />
My dad never said "you can't do that, you are a girl". I would talk a lot about my dreams and aspirations in life. I'd talk about crazy things I wanted to do, and to this day I have never once heard my dad say "you can't do that" for any reason at all. My gender, my financial status, my personality, none of that ever came into play. I always believed, and continue to believe I can do things, partly because I was never told I can't.<br />
My dad never said "ewww" when I asked him to pick up more feminine products from the store. He never made my being female seem like a chore or a burden, or gross, he just did it. (Which is another one of those silent ways he let us know he loves us). One time when I was home sick with horrible menstrual cramps, I vomited all over in my bed (I know, really gross), and when I got up and told my dad, he didn't say anything, he just came in and helped me change the sheets.<br />
My dad never said "stop talking". I am 100% sure he wanted to a thousand and a half times, maybe he did once or twice, but I don't remember. What I remember are car rides home where I would literally talk his ear off for 20 minutes straight about all the goings on of the day, that I'm sure he cared very little about, and he would just smile and nod, probably partly happy that he didn't have to talk. That helped me find my voice, and to feel like I had something worthwhile to say. That expressing my opinion and thoughts was important enough to take the time to listen to, and if my dad is nothing else, he is a phenomenal listener.<br />
My dad never said "I wish our lawn was greener/ I wish our house was bigger/ I wish we could go on vacation to _________". Whenever we ask my dad what he wants for his birthday, father's day, or Christmas we usually get a variation of the same answer "nothing." One of my sister's once said "I think Dad is genuinely the most content person on the planet. When he says he doesn't want anything, he really doesn't want anything." We never had a lot, but we always had enough. He is quietly generous with what he has, and he is perfectly content spending hours reading books, playing solitaire, and drinking tea. With my outgoing and constantly trying to do more way, it is helpful to watch someone who is perfectly content to just be.<br />
He is not perfect by any means, and there are probably times he should speak when he doesn't, but I think as I grow older I am learning to appreciate his quiet ways more and more, especially as the world seems to get increasingly louder and louder. So I am grateful for the things my father taught me when he wasn't talking, because I know I have been shaped by so many things he never said.RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-30073077261240063332016-05-27T16:18:00.002-05:002016-05-27T17:16:25.482-05:00Beautiful and Bold <br />
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Over the past few years, I've gotten deeply impassioned when talking to young women about relationships. I did this a few weeks ago at a university talking to girls studying to be pastors, launching into a great monologue of seeking a partner and not just seeing a spouse as a weird goal.<br />
It's partly because I'm starting to move into that older woman stage of life, where I shake my head and roll my eyes at the youth and their crazy ways. It's really because, like all women, or men, who get some life experience under their belt, you look back with hindsight and a twinge of pain, and hope that your small words of warning will be heeded by someone like you, so they are spared some of the heartache.<br />
I didn't date until I was in college. Because I went to college in the early 2000's it was on the heels of the great evangelical purity movement that had taken all of our youth groups by storm. Not only did I carry the baggage from that movement, and the countless books I had read pertaining to the topic, but going to a Christian college magnified the movement ten fold.<br />
There were no Sarah Besseys or Rachel Held Evans, because they were still wrestling with the same issues at the same time. There were no calls for a Christian Feminist movement, at least not in the circles I ran in. There was focus on the family, purity rings, and complimentarianism in all of its glory.<br />
The first guy I "talked to" about dating was timid and shy, and I read him the riot act about not taking the headship in our relationship. Why wasn't he pursuing me more? Why wasn't he taking the initiative? It was his job, his role to take the initiative. My friends quickly rallied to my side, taking up my cause, quickly cherry picking scriptures and telling him he needed to lead if he wanted to actually be in a relationship with a good Christian girl like me.<br />
We never went from "talking" to "dating".<br />
When I finally went from "talking" to "dating" a guy, I was elated. I got those butterflies in your stomach, the tingles up and down your arm like tiny firecrackers. We both cared for the poor, we both were passionate about youth ministry, and about Jesus. It felt like a dream. It felt like all of those books I had read were correct, and I often told people "when you just wait for God to piece your love story together, He sends you the right person." Because I thought he was the right person.<br />
Then one very late night, he called me as he often did, and we were talking about a conversation he had had with someone at work about something in the bible. I said "Oh yes! It's in Romans 8." He stopped talking.<br />
"I wish you wouldn't do that." He said.<br />
"Do what?" I responded, completely clueless at what I had done wrong.<br />
"I wish you wouldn't just know things like that. I wish you wouldn't just tell me the answers. It's intimidating."<br />
It was my turn to be quiet. I never told him, but I sobbed into my pillow that night. I had been "intimidating" to boys for much of my life. I was outspoken, I was well read, I loved to learn, and I was, and am, incredibly opinionated. More than once boys and men had made comments about how "intimidating" I was, or how I wasn't "really a girl" I was more "like one of the guys." It was heart-wrenching. I wanted to be seen as a girl. I wanted to be viewed as pretty and sweet, as gentle and kind. I wanted to be someone guys wanted to date, but I also wanted to read and speak my mind, and talk about how much I loved the Bible. I cried big wet tears, because I felt in that moment that I couldn't be both. I couldn't be loved and pretty, and be outspoken and bold.<br />
So, I stopped talking as much about the Bible, about the books I was reading at school, and history of Christianity, and I got really really depressed. As I talked less, our physical relationship got more and more intimate, because at that point I felt I needed to do whatever it took to stay together, to keep him interested, to not be intimidating. Which only deepened my depression and the deep chasm in my heart.<br />
If I could tell my younger self anything, it would have been to break things off in that moment. To not compromise yourself and your voice to keep going in a relationship that wants you to be submissive and sweet, because that's just not who you are. But the older me wasn't there to tell my younger me anything, and so I kept going.<br />
One day while having a conversation about my dreams for youth ministry, and how I was going to balance my calling with being a mother, he stopped me and said "Wait! You don't think you are still going to be a pastor when we have children, do you!?" I froze again.<br />
I thought that was the straw of irreconcilable differences for us. Of course I'd still be a pastor while I was a mother! I was called to be a pastor when I was young; why would God just take that calling away from me because I had children?<br />
This broke me. I talked to so many friends about how I thought that was it. How we couldn't be together. In all the wisdom 20 year olds can muster, they told me to stick it out, that things can change, that this didn't need to be a deal breaker.<br />
It did need to be a deal breaker. It wasn't, but it needed to be. If I had allowed those red flags, those signs, those feelings of unrest to speak truth to my heart, instead of listening to the stupid books I had read, and the guilt I would feel if things didn't work out, I would have been spared a lot of wasted time, and a lot of heartache.<br />
If I knew then, what I know now, about what relationships can look like, about what they should look like, I would have gone into everything so differently.<br />
My husband is about as opposite of that first relationship as one can get. He quit a job he liked, without knowing if he'd have another one, to support my call to plant a church. We talk about each other as teammates, and he pushes me to speak my mind. I have never heard the words "you are intimidating" come out of his mouth once, but rather I've heard "you need to speak more, you have something to say". He has washed dishes and cooked me meals , he does laundry better than I do, and we have talked about managing a family and a ministry together as partners. He doesn't see my boldness as a counter to my femininity, in fact he values it, and cherishes it. He doesn't feel emasculated when I am in charge at church, instead he tells me he is proud of me and cheers me on. We work together in all things. We serve each other. We care for each other. We submit to each other. It's beautiful and life giving.<br />
I wish someone had told me when I was 20 not to lesson my voice to make a man more comfortable. I wish there was someone who really sat down with me and told me that submission isn't relegated to women, but to both men and women as we work as a team. I wish that my friends had said "men don't have to take the initiative all the time, we work together as equals." And those voices might have been there, but they were hidden under stacks of "I kissed dating goodbye" and purity ring ceremonies lying to me that God had created one perfect person for me, and would conveniently send him my way when he was ready.<br />
There isn't a one. There isn't some golden formula, and God doesn't bless us ten-fold for waiting to kiss a guy until we are engaged (These are all things I believed at one point). There are real broken people, who have to navigate real feelings, and who have to learn to live life the way God wants us to, as partners, as equals. It's hard, but it's beautiful.<br />
So, I get impassioned when I talk to young women, because I don't want them to walk through months or years being told that they are intimidating for being bold, or that they are "one of the guys" when they don't fit a mold. I want them to know they can be pretty, desired, sexy, and wanted AND be bold, fierce, strong, and smart. That not all men are intimidated by intelligence, the best guys definitely aren't, and that they want to be with someone who loves them for who they are, not for a role they play. I want young women to walk boldly into whatever it is that God is calling them to be it motherhood, pastoring, teaching, healing, or speaking.<br />
You are not less of a woman for speaking mightily. You are not less pretty or sexy because you are smart. Don't allow those lies to penetrate your heart. Don't give up who you are to play a role. Don't silence your voice. Don't sell yourself short for anyone. Not because there's a guarantee the right guy will come along and love you for who you are, but because being who God created and called you to be is so much better than being miserable for someone who doesn't value that. You can be both beautiful and bold, never think otherwise.<br />
<br />RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-83879243694427862412016-05-14T17:58:00.000-05:002016-05-14T18:02:10.240-05:00Childless Female Pastor <br />
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There are a lot of wonderful pieces written by a great many women leaders about motherhood and church life. How having children has increased their understanding and empathy for others. How giving birth connected them in ways to God they didn't see possible. Even articles about balancing life as a mom and a pastor.<br />
Much less often are words penned about what it means to be a childless woman pastor. However, that's what I am.<br />
We got married at 28, which in normal society is deemed average, in church society is deemed as ancient, so when I began ministry as a single 22 year old just out of college, I was already a bit of an oddity. When my husband and I got engaged, people assumed we were 5-8 years younger than we really were. Faces were shocked when I told them the year I had graduated from college, thinking I was obviously a recent college grad, who just didn't quite make the ring by spring deadline. Often we would be disregarded when giving our thoughts on things, in favor of people much younger than us, because they had kids, the assumption was that they were older than us. It was and continues to be incredibly frustrating.<br />
I have a masters degree, 7 years of full time youth ministry and 2 years of senior pastor ministry experience, I'm an ordained elder, have traveled to many countries and states, and I have 31 years of life experience, and much (if not all) of that gets disregarded at times, because I don't have children.<br />
Not only does the vast amount of experience I have get disregarded, but my own feelings and perspective is deemed less than. I have been told such things as "well you can't possibly know love, you don't have children." Or "you don't really know anything, because you aren't a parent." Two phrases that aren't just completely wrong, they are incredibly hurtful and dehumanizing.<br />
While I will be the first to admit that there are many things having children probably teaches someone about God and life (I've read all your blogs, books, and stories), there are many things that being childless has taught me as well.<br />
It has taught me that people are the beloved of God regardless of whether or not they have children. We often favor people with children in the church. We throw elaborate baby showers, we have baby days, we spend lots of money on ministering to families with children, even hiring pastors for that specific task. There are many women (and men) whether through choice or circumstance who do not have children, and while we should not stop celebrating children in our midst, we should take the time to celebrate the great and beautiful people in our churches who don't have children.<br />
Invisible is how many childless people feel within the church. They don't get the parties, or the celebrations. They watch the cute little families pushing strollers into church each and every week, and are often overlooked in the bustle. Everyone loves cute babies and pregnant bellies, single and/or childless people are sort of just there. They are expected to put themselves out there and serve others because it is assumed they have unending amounts of time and energy (other phrases often told to people who are childless) because they don't have children.<br />
I've gone home and cried many a night after attending baby showers, and big church baby day celebrations. I love throwing parties, I love celebrating new life in our churches, I love babies, but it creates this deepening wound that says "you might never have this" or "you aren't really anything, until you have children." Despite good intentions, it's easy for those types of displays to make those of us without children to feel less important to the community of faith, and in turn, less valuable to God.<br />
So having no children has taught me to be aware of that. To look for the gifts and talents of the people in our faith community without children. To see them, and recognize they are just as much gifted by God, and are called to work for the Kingdom of God in great ways. They are created in the image of God, and deserve to be celebrated for all the ways God is moving in their lives, in the big and the small.<br />
Being a childless pastor has also taught me that you have no idea of what inner battles others are fighting, and it's cruel and unfair to make assumptions about anyone. I've heard well intentioned church people tell childless couples that they are "selfish" for not having children, without knowing those people at all. I know childless couples who struggle with infertility, who have gone through failed adoption after failed adoption, others who are self aware enough to know they would not make great parents, and still others who choose not to have children in order to have schedules more conducive to the long hours of certain ministries. These are not "selfish" people, they are just people, who through circumstance or choice have been thrust into a different position than others.<br />
Other assumptions that have been made of childless people, including myself, "you aren't trying enough", "you're trying too much", "do you even want children?", "can you even have children?", "have you ever thought of adopting?", "you'd make great parents. You'll change your mind." I get uncomfortable every single time someone asks me about our having children. Every. Single. Time. There are about 4 people I've talked to in depth about having children, my husband, my doctor, and a couple close female friends. That's it. I don't think it's the world's business, and it is incredibly frustrating for people to shove themselves in like it is their business. The chances are, you have no idea what someone else is going through, unless they have told you, and even then, you probably only get a glimpse.<br />
That being said, I've also learned to extend grace over and over and over again. Really hurtful things have been said to me, incredibly hurtful things, and I have to turn around and love people just the same. I have to love them after they ask "is that a baby belly I see!", when it's not, it's just fat, which will probably get bigger from that incredibly hurtful statement and the stress eating that will ensue. Grace has to become my life force, but I also must extend grace to the people I know nothing about. I must never assume the worst, but always cover my words and my thoughts with grace.<br />
Women say all the time that having children have made them a better pastor and Christian, I don't doubt that at all, but not having children at 31 has certainly made me a better pastor. I see through a lens many women don't, to see how child-centric church can be. How painful days like Mother's Day can be, and have had to preach and pray despite tears choking in my own throat. How families without children need pastors too. They need bible studies, Sunday school classes, celebrations, and friends. They need places to serve, and often need to be asked to serve in places like the nursery and the children's department, places people often automatically exclude them from regardless of their gifts and talents. They need less assumptions and to be listened to more. To have people who actually hear about their experiences and don't disregard them for lack of having children. They need people to acknowledge that while the love they have for their friends, their spouse, their family, and God aren't the same as the love one has for children, it is no less real, important, and life giving. They need places where it's safe to grieve, with people who won't offer unwanted advice, but who just grieve with them. They need places to rejoice over their accomplishments, their advanced degree, their new job, the ways God is moving. They need places that look at them as the beloved of God and not just a stepping stone to some sort of better life that only those with children know about. They need the church to elevate following Jesus more than the act of becoming parents, something that all of us childless or not, need to be reminded of daily. They need to hear over and over and over again "you are good enough as you are. You are the beloved of God just as you are."<br />
Because, childless church people, you are. You are the beloved of God, you aren't your miscarriage, your stillbirth, your abortion, your PCOS, your endometriosis, your unexplained infertility, your single-hood, your choice to not have children... You are more than all of those things, and the Church should be the one place that communicates that to you, even if the world doesn't. You have a place in the amazing Kingdom of God, to do great things, and if you feel invisible in church on Sunday morning amidst the hustle and bustle of cute little families with their cute little kids, know that I see you. I see you, and you are loved, just as you are, where you are, and God sees you too. God sees the desires of your heart, whatever they might be, and if no one else is celebrating the great things happening in your life, God does. You are important, not because of what you might or might not be someday, but for who you are right now, where you are right now.<br />
<br />RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-21136799227734722882016-05-12T08:42:00.000-05:002016-05-12T10:06:24.248-05:00The Burden of Exceptionality <br />
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There is a phrase that continues to be repeated by male leadership when asked how to encourage local churches to be more open to having a female pastor. The phrase is "If we have exceptional female pastors to point to, that will enable other churches to consider hiring a female pastor."<br />
At first observation, this phrase seems supportive and maybe even a little bit like common sense. If you see an exceptional pastor, why wouldn't you want that for yourself and your church?<br />
Only, what happens when a female pastor is not exceptional? Should a woman's merits, talent, gifts, or even her chemistry with a specific congregation be used as a plumb line by which all other women in ministry are measured? Are the only women capable of being great pastors those who are viewed by leadership as "exceptional"?<br />
The answer should be a resounding no.<br />
Maybe the biggest problem with this thinking, is that it lays an unnecessary burden on an already burdened vocation. Added to reading, writing, preaching, balancing budgets, fixing clogged toilets, counseling church members, visiting the sick, clothing the naked, and feeding the hungry, is a glaring "oh, and do all of that exceptionally for the sake of women in ministry everywhere!"<br />
It is an impossible standard. No one is good at everything, let alone exceptional.<br />
While one pastor might be an exceptional preacher, she might not be an exceptional caregiver. Where one pastor might be a great administrator, she might not be a great counselor. We are all gifted differently, and to expect one person to be exceptional in all areas, is not only unfair, it is counter to the illustrations of the Church we see in scripture.<br />
Scripture is clear, we are all gifted differently, and we should not be envious of the gifts of others, but use the gifts we have for the kingdom of God. If we expect one woman to be exceptional at all things, we are robbing the church of one of it's greatest messages, that it takes all of us, working together, to truly illustrate the kingdom of God to the world around us. It takes everyone working together, and promising a church a pastor of exception, sets them up to not only miss out on a wonderful pastor, but to miss out on their own gifts and talents for the kingdom.<br />
Not only can one woman not be good at everything, everyone has bad days. You are sick, your kids are sick, your dog is sick. The sound system fizzles out. A congregant said "I need to talk to you Pastor" when you first walk into the building, and it's the day leadership is there to check in on you.<br />
Just because one woman has a bad day does not mean every day is bad, or that every other woman is not great at pastoring. It doesn't even mean she's bad at pastoring, it just means a bad day. One woman's bad day (or bad year, or bad decade for that matter) in ministry, should not define every other woman's.<br />
Holding exceptionality as the standard by which every woman is judged, leaves a very small window for women to climb through, leaving many others behind, who don't know how to climb the same ladder. Not only is this a high standard that many, if not all, feel incapable of reaching, this is a standard completely subjective to the people who are placing it as a standard. Exceptionality means different things to many people, and the problem with defining exceptional in the context of church, is that in recent years, it has tended to mean the pastors with the biggest ministries, the best preaching, or even a charismatic personality. In a faith tradition where few women are leading the biggest ministries, this is an impossible standard. It becomes difficult to point to the exceptional preaching skills of a woman, if she is not placed in places to even hear in the first place, and personalities are as varied as their are people. Having this high of a standard leaves many, if not most or all, women feeling inadequate, or ill equipped, and leaves so many burdened on Sunday morning, as they try on the twentieth outfit in the mirror ensuring perfection, thinking "maybe this isn't really what I'm called to." Or trying to balance too many things, and when things fall apart, being used as an example for "why we won't hire a woman again."<br />
In my first full time ministry position I was told "we really wanted a man, but now that we know you, you are definitely an exception." The thought was meant to be a compliment, but it did not feel like one. Why was I an exception? There were (and are) plenty of women in ministry as gifted as I am, if not more so, who would have been tremendous in any of the positions I have held throughout the years. Holding me up as the exception did not elevate me, it lowered others. That's what exceptionality does more often than not. Everyone loses when we use "exceptional" as the plumb line for measurement.<br />
It isn't that their aren't exceptional women pastors out there, I know many, it's that our definition of exceptional is so far above what most of us human beings can be. Pastors aren't exceptional because they lead the biggest churches, preach the best, or have charismatic personalities, if that is the measure, we all lose on a bad day. If that is the standard, women will never be placed in bigger churches because in order to pastor a big church and be heard preaching, requires jumping so many hurdles to even get there, and most are getting lapped seven-fold by the men getting those opportunities before them.<br />
The plumb line for measurement shouldn't be this rigid view of "exceptional" but should rather be "look at these called, gifted, and faithful women." The stories we share, shouldn't always be ones of exception, the few who were able to jump over hurdles and climb through windows, to somehow make it to the top beyond all odds.<br />
The answer has to change, the narrative has to change if women are going to be placed in churches to be the pastors they are called to be. The stories should sound different than exception, they should sound gracefully and beautifully ordinary.<br />
We should be sharing stories of women who stand up in the midst of hardship and adversity, to still preach on Sunday morning with love in their hearts. We need to seek out and elevate women who have been in ministry for years, who have never preached in front of thousands, or even hundreds, but who week after week preach to their faithful few. We should start sharing the stories of God's faithfulness in the midst of trial, of hope in the midst of defeat. The stories of women bailing out flooded basements until the early hours of Sunday morning. The stories of women who weep at bedsides of beloved congregants as they pass from this world. The stories of women answering phone calls at 2 in the morning, of visiting jail cells and sterile hospital rooms. The stories of women who are in so many ways inadequate and unexceptional, but that still reflect the greatness and grace of God to those around them.<br />
Maybe holding up faithful instead of exceptional, will take some of the burden off. If nothing else it illustrates a much better picture of our calling. It shows us a glimpse of the kingdom of God, where we were never called to be exceptional, just faithful. It shows churches the type of pastor they need, and the type of church they can be, a faithful one.<br />
At the end of life when we stand before Jesus it is not exceptionality that he applauds us for, but faithfulness as he says "well done, good and faithful servant." It's not the best sermons, the best dressed, or the one who juggled the most programming, that gets looked at with esteem in the kingdom of God. They are those who serve without looking for any esteem at all. Those who are last. Those who are faithful.<br />
So maybe instead of pointing to "exceptional women", we point to an exceptional God and the incredibly faithful women who get to serve God as pastor. I for one feel like that would take some of the burden off. I may never be exceptional, but I hope and pray that I am, and will continue to be, faithful.<br />
RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-92000407884633466882016-05-06T13:45:00.001-05:002016-05-06T13:45:04.306-05:00To The _____________ Woman<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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To the _______________ woman,<br />
You are not your label. You are more than that.<br />
You are not "just" a stay at home mom, driving your mini-van with the cheerios crushed into the upholstery.<br />
You are not "just" a single girl netflix binging for another Friday night, looking at another meme about loving pizza.<br />
You are not "just" a divorced woman, struggling with an unexpected grief and loss as you navigate the waters of whether or not you even want to find love again and fighting back tears as you see the old couple holding hands at the mall.<br />
You are not "just" a childless woman, with the judgmental stares and glances from others about whether or not you even want to have kids, and the comments from your mom about when she'll get grand kids.<br />
You are not "just" an old woman, wondering if you even have a voice anymore in the midst of the loud voices around you.<br />
You are not "just" a young woman, filled with wide eye wonder, naive to the ways of the world.<br />
You are not your label. You are more than that.<br />
You are not "just" a working mom, trying to keep up with carpool while spilling coffee on your new suit as you push on the gas a little faster to make it to work on time, only to notice that at least the coffee stain covers the spit up stain from earlier this morning.<br />
You are not "just" retired, navigating a new found free time and a shockingly difficult adjustment to a fixed income, and the discovery that "retired" is not the correct word for how busy life has become after a paid job.<br />
You are not "just" a grandmother, filling your grand-babies with sugar and love and sending them home, or raising them when your children could not.<br />
You are not "just" beautiful, with the stares and the compliments and the questions of whether people like you, or just how you look.<br />
You are not "just" smart, with your quick responses and insight to the world around you, with your love for science and math, something they told you "girls aren't usually into."<br />
You are not your label, you are more than that.<br />
You are not "just" a survivor, an introvert, an extrovert, a feminist, an aunt, a daughter, a friend.<br />
You are not "just" a boss, an employee, a foster-mom, a blogger, a teacher, a diagnosis.<br />
You are not "just" anything.<br />
You are the beloved of God.<br />
You are the beloved of God whether your label says broken, or sad, or lonely, or single, or married, or stay at home mom.<br />
You are the beloved of God whether your label was given to you by someone else, or you have given it to yourself.<br />
You are the beloved of God no matter your age, your status, or your income.<br />
You are the beloved of God.<br />
You are the beloved of God, whether you identified with my stereotypes of you or not.<br />
You are the beloved of God now in this moment, whether you feel like you deserve it or not, whether you feel like you are succeeding or struggling, whether you feel worthy or not. You are the beloved of God.<br />
You are never "just" anything, because you are the beloved of God.<br />
<br />RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-80261557288982990642016-04-29T10:17:00.001-05:002016-04-29T14:25:43.581-05:00"You're Pretty. I like you."<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> "You're pretty. I like you." It was spoken to me so innocently by a middle school girl a couple weeks ago.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I was taken aback. This was a day I had rushed out the door exhausted, with a quick ponytail and no makeup. My first response was "wait, me?" Which of course I didn't say out loud, opting for a much more socially acceptable "thank you."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Then, as I am prone to do, I thought about what she had said. It sat weird to me, not because I didn't feel pretty, or that I had rushed out the door without a second thought about my appearance. It sat weirdly, because she equated her liking me to my physical appearance.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> This has happened before. I've walked past my elementary classes in the hallways to whispers of how pretty I am, or "she looks so nice", or the more direct "you just look nice Ms. C".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> While I am happy to receive compliments, and I definitely appreciate that I appear kind, I'm starting to wonder how much we as a culture equate being beautiful or pretty with being good.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It's no secret that in order to be a movie star one must not only be talented (though even this might be up for debate), but one must also be beautiful. Not only beautiful, but a very specific well defined beautiful: thin, thick hair, light skin, flawless complexion, and big lips and hips don't hurt. (There are exceptions to this, but they are just that, exceptions). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Not only is there an expectation of beauty placed upon those in the realm of television and movies, but if you take a glance at "successful" women, they all tend to have one thing in common, they are attractive. There was even a <a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/games-primates-play/201203/the-truth-about-why-beautiful-people-are-more-successful" target="_blank">study</a> done that said that people who are more attractive tend to be more successful. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> This idea of pretty as good is not relegated to the culture either, but has seeped into the church as well. I took note at our last big denominational event, of the women who were placed up front, and I've thought back over the Christian women's events that I have been to, and while these women might disagree, they are all beautiful. I remember as a young woman sitting in the audience at a particular women's conference and thinking about how perfect their hair looked, how flawless their makeup was, how on point their outfits were, and looking at myself feeling so very inadequate. Obviously having stylists on hand before you go on stage makes a difference, but I wonder if we are often silently communicating that in order to be successful, in order to be good, in order to be used in big ways by God, you must also be pretty.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> This is a message I think we unintentionally perpetuate to girls all the time. Think back to the last time a little girl walked into church on a Sunday morning. More than likely the first thing spoken to her was "You look so pretty today!" (There was a great blog post written on this <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lisa-bloom/how-to-talk-to-little-gir_b_882510.html" target="_blank">here</a>.) While it isn't a bad thing, we are communicating in many ways that the way to be good, to be successful, is to be lovely. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The problem with the message of pretty equaling good, is that within these narrow cultural constructs of what it means to be attractive, a lot of people are left out, and sadly, most often the women and girls left out are women of color, women with natural hair, women outside of a size 6, women without perfect skin (um... isn't that like, most of us?!), or who cannot afford to be fashionable. We are robbing ourselves of ethnic and economic diversity, if we continue on in the patterns that attractive equals good/successful/great/smart/etc. We are communicating to these girls and women that they can't be successful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Maybe the most heartbreaking area I've seen this illustrated is at school, where I will overhear a dark skinned black girl being told by her light skinned peers that she isn't as pretty as they are. That she isn't good enough is perpetuated by the media who tends to favor light skinned actors over darker skinned actors (If this is a new concept to you, <a href="https://raceandtechnology.wordpress.com/2014/12/10/whitewashing-in-mass-media-exploring-colorism-and-the-damaging-effects-of-beauty-hierarchies/" target="_blank">here</a> is a post on colorism in the media). This is also illustrated when I hear on a nearly daily basis that when I have children they will be beautiful because "mixed children are the most beautiful" as though being beautiful is the most important value (though, I question if it is a value... it's not) to have. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> As I reflected on this idea of pretty as good, I was reminded of the story in 1 Samuel, where Samuel is called upon to choose the next king of Israel. He goes to the sons of Jesse, and he keeps picking the most attractive sons, assuming that if one is to be the king, he must be the strongest and most handsome. After all of the strongest and most handsome being rejected God says to Samuel in chapter 16, verse 7 <span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">“<i>Do not consider his </i></span><i><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">appearance</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> or his height, for I have rejected him. </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">The</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> </span><span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 24px;">Lord</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> does not look </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">at</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> things people look </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">at</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">. People look </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">at</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">outward</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">appearance</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">, but </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> </span><span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 24px;">Lord</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">looks</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">at</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> heart.”</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><i> </i> God looks at the heart.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"> One of the best pieces of advice my mom ever gave me was "beauty is as beauty does." She said it so often, that it almost became white noise to me, but the words are true. Beauty on the inside, that is what matters to God. Hearts that are honest, loving, filled with grace and mercy, that's what God looks at. We would do well to do the same. We would do good by our daughters, grandchildren, and neighborhood girls to do the same. To stop equating pretty with niceness, or goodness, or kindness, or talent, but to look at people's hearts and love them just the same. We would do good by our churches and our denominations, to illustrate by example, that it is not beauty that makes us worthy, or successful, or called, but the grace of God pouring into and out of our lives. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I get why we don't have people up in front of large crowds speaking in pajama pants, but I wonder how often we perpetuate in our silent ways (and sometimes our more direct ways), that being pretty is the same as being good. I wonder how many women and girls feel disqualified from being the world changers they are, because when they look on stage and then look in the mirror, they see 2 very different things. I wonder if we are sabotaging girls from living into their potential when the first thing we say is "you are so pretty" instead of repeating to them "beauty is as beauty does, be beautiful on the inside." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Then I wonder if the world, or at least the church, can be different, can be a place that elevates compassion over cosmetics, and forgiveness over fashion. I wonder how many amazing workers for the kingdom of God would be empowered and embraced if we began to promote hospitality and humility over hotness, and attentiveness over attractiveness. I wonder the level of intelligence and the vastness of diversity we would gain if we broke through the narrow cultural confines of beauty, and truly looked at people's hearts, the way God does. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm not saying don't comb your hair (though if you have small children and/or a crazy busy schedule, we understand if you don't), or don't wear makeup, or don't care about fashion, but what I am saying is, do you spend as much time grooming your heart as you do your appearance? Do we care as much about love, grace, mercy, justice, and compassion, as we do about the latest Urban Decay smokey eye pallet? Are we communicating to the girls around us, that God is looking at their hearts? Are we looking at people's hearts, at their God given talents and abilities, or are we only looking at the surface?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Maybe most importantly, when we look in the mirror, are we telling ourselves that our beauty on the inside is the most important thing about us? Because ultimately the loudest voice in our head is ours. </span></div>
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RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-21574699476766333872016-04-22T13:22:00.000-05:002016-04-22T13:41:37.612-05:00What Flight Attendants Know (That Pastors Struggle to Learn)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>This is my annual pastor's report, originally submitted and presented at the 2016 Northwest Indiana District Assembly. This year we were asked to speak of our personal discipleship journey. It wasn't hard to speak of mine; the holiest thing I did this year was get healthy. It is my hope and prayer that my story and journey of health encourages others, pastors and laity alike, to take control of their health, and find the freedom, joy, and holiness that comes from making healthier decisions.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Flight attendants learned something about holiness years ago, that many of us pastors are still struggling to grasp; you have to put your oxygen mask on yourself, before you can put it on those around you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I for one, had it backwards. I’d tell you it was because that’s our responsibility as Christians to put others first, whatever the expense or cost, or that my time was so consumed by the pastoral responsibilities to care for myself that I just didn’t. Those would be lies, and lies I most often told myself. The real reason was pride, and a self-inflicted martyrdom. A way to tell everyone how I was struggling in the trenches, fighting the good fight, to pat myself on the back as a good busy pastor with my priorities straight. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When I went to my annual checkup last May and stepped on the scale in the doctor’s office to see a number higher than I had ever seen before, my heart was met with a deep conviction. After a diagnosis of polycystic ovarian syndrome, that conviction deepened. </span></div>
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left: February 2015 Right: February 2016</div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> PCOS is called by doctors as “diabetes of the ovaries”. An insulin disorder that results in an excess release of estrogen, which results in the creation of cysts in your ovaries. Among other issues, PCOS comes with a 50% chance of getting diabetes and a drastically heightened risk for ovarian cancer. Despite it being a chronic illness, the symptoms can be almost eradicated if controlled through diet and exercise and maintaining a healthy weight. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> A decision had to be made. Continue on in the destructive patterns of eating and exercise (or lack of) that I was on, plunging deeper into obesity, most likely get diabetes some day and potentially have bigger problems. I chose to put my oxygen mask on first.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I radically changed my diet with the help of a registered dietitian, and started running. I went from being unable to run a city block those first few weeks last May, to running a 5k in September. I began to have more energy. My PCOS symptoms lessened. In 11 months, I have lost over 30 pounds, and have more energy at 31 years old than I did at 25. I went from running a city block, to a 5k, to a 10k, to being able to run 8 miles, in less than a year. </span></div>
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left: first 5k september 2015 right: first 10k April 2016</div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The moment I decided to put my oxygen mask on first, and care for myself, I became a better pastor and Christian. The energy I have to devote to the people around me, continues to astound me. I find myself able to say yes more often without reluctance. I’m a better wife. I’m a better person. I care for people better, because I take care of myself. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We often think of holiness as prayer and scripture, and we forget that part of it is “whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.” I can say with confidence that what I eat and drink, and what I do is giving the glory to God in ways it never has before, because I began to view my body as the temple of the Holy Spirit instead of a trash can. I started to treat it as the beloved creation of the creator, and started to think of myself as a steward of this great gift.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Putting the oxygen mask on first, has now truly enabled me to put that mask on others around me. To illustrate holiness in my heart, but also in my life. To glorify God with all that I am, including the precious gift of the only body I have been given. I couldn’t be more grateful for the person I am now. A person who loves others enough, to want to stay around and healthy for a very long time to care for them. I truly believe the best days of health, wholeness, and holiness for myself, my family, our church, and our community, are yet to come, and I now have the energy to be there for all of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In health, wholeness, and holiness,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Pastor Robbie Cansler</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Mission Church of the Nazarene</span></div>
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RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-56728239067137652312016-04-19T19:15:00.000-05:002016-04-19T19:15:04.634-05:00Letting Go of Pastor Guilt<br />
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I ugly cried at work the other day. It would have been great if it was in my church office, behind a closed door, where I am the only one present. Where the few people that walk by would assume I was especially moved by the Spirit, and was deep in prayer over some member of my precious congregation.<br />
But I wasn't in my church office, I was at my other work as a substitute teacher. Sitting in a high school science class, behind a big desk piled up with various papers and projects, with the very possibility that a high school student could walk in at any moment, which I am sure only made me cry more.<br />
The reason for my tears, pastor guilt.<br />
Someone had made a passing post in an online forum about how they arrived at a church that was locked, and the disappointment they felt at a church being locked in the afternoon.<br />
My church was locked in the afternoon, just like nearly 5-6 out of 7 afternoons because, as I said, I was currently at my other job, sitting in a high school classroom.<br />
I began to think of the people disappointed as they arrive at our church doors, only to find them locked. I began to get angry that this person didn't understand my story, the sacrifices that we've made to start a church here, to renovate an old church building, and to make ends meet. But it wasn't that anger that made me cry, it was the overwhelming sense of guilt that I wasn't being a good enough pastor.<br />
Guilt is a horrible feeling, especially when it's connected to your self worth and call. It does crazy things to your mind and heart, and makes you do crazy things like ugly cry in a high school science class. It also diminishes all the good that is happening, all the amazing ways that God is working, and if left to take root, leads to hopelessness.<br />
Being a bi-vocational pastor adds another element to this feeling of pastor guilt. Am I spending too much time at my other work? Am I devoting the same passion to my pastoring as I am to my other job, or visa-versa? Am I spending enough time with my family? Is my house clean enough? Am I managing my time in the best ways possible? Sometimes the answer is no to those questions, because the reality is, being a pastor is really really hard. It's hard whether you work another job or not.<br />
It's really hard to work with people who say "you aren't at the church enough", while other people tell you "you're at the church too much, you need to be out in the world more." It's really hard when once a year you have to write down the numbers of people who go to your church in a report, and feel like people are looking down on you because of your number. It's hard when you think "nobody knows what that number 12 represents. The tears I've cried, the letters I've written, the sermons I've preached, the difference I'm making." because they don't know, and many won't take the time to know. It's hard when your house is messy, with piles of laundry on the floor, as you change your clothes from one job to head out to the next, and do a sniff test to make sure that if nothing else, at least you don't smell like you haven't done laundry in 3 weeks. It's hard when people don't like you, when you do too much, or not enough. It's just really hard.<br />
It's easy to feel guilt. It's easy to get overwhelmed by that guilt, and if we let that guilt take root, it's easy to have it turn into hopelessness.<br />
Being a human is hard as it is. It isn't just pastors that fall into this trap, it's all of us, feeling as though we don't exercise enough, or work hard enough, or look put together enough.<br />
Enough with the guilt trips already!<br />
I know this is the part where I'm supposed to say "you're great!" "you're doing an awesome job!" Along with some great uplifting bible verse, with some quotes of how awesome you are, but I'm not going to do that. Because the truth is, sometimes you aren't great, sometimes you don't do an awesome job; I know I certainly don't.<br />
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The ball drops at times. We say yes to too many things, and then all those things end up becoming a source of anxiety instead of joy. We ugly cry at our job because we allowed some passing comment that was in no way meant to wound us, wound us, and make us feel guilty.<br />
There are times we are on point, and things are flowing, but there are just times they aren't. Where the sermon doesn't come together, where we said or did the wrong thing, and I won't sit here and pretend like sometimes those failures aren't big and messy.<br />
BUT, I will say that we serve a God that redeems. A God who looks at our mess, our too many yes's, our ugly cries at inappropriate times, and still chooses to use us, in spite of it all. That is why we don't need to carry around guilt. Guilt leads to hopelessness, but we are not a hopeless people, we are a redeemed people. A people who know that if laid at the feet of Jesus, what looks like our greatest failure (and maybe it is our greatest failure) can be redeemed and transformed into something amazing for the Kingdom of God.<br />
Be encouraged in the midst of your mess, in the midst of your guilt, not by trite comments of how great you are, but by the hope that you don't have to be great, you just have to be faithful to the one who has called you in the best ways you can today. Even if your best are 3 day old t-shirts, and tears in science labs, know that God can redeem even these moments, and just let go of the guilt.<br />
RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850675736450044717.post-79958770967045367462016-04-15T11:36:00.000-05:002016-04-15T11:36:29.444-05:00Hearing Myself Preach<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was the first woman I ever heard preach.<br />
I was 16 years old, and I called it "sharing". The urge to do so, started like a fire in my belly, a small spark at first that was easy to ignore, only to continue to be flamed until I felt as though I would burst. The desire became so hard to ignore, that I e-mailed the church board and asked if I could share on a Sunday. Surprisingly, they let me.<br />
It's weird to look back on now. I'm sure my words were shaky, and my exegesis left something to be desired, but it was the beginning of a journey that continues today. I stepped behind a pulpit, not even knowing if that was a place I was allowed to be in, which says something to the strong call of the Holy Spirit and the tenacity of 16 year old girls.<br />
There have been many stories lately in my church tradition about male clergy advocating for women in ministry, and urging us forward. They tend to have big names, or the title of District Superintendent tagged to their name. I'm grateful for all of those people, and I do not downplay their great work, but it isn't for them that I was encouraged on in my ministry call.<br />
I didn't attend a big church in a big city, I attended a little Nazarene Church in a little town that most people have never heard of. My pastor is probably never going to be invited on stage at a General Assembly, or applauded in a best selling book, but if it weren't for that little local congregation and his confidence in God's call on my life (a call I pushed against, and he pushed back... every time) I wouldn't be here. It was this pastor who put me on the preaching schedule nearly once a month on Sunday nights, as a Senior in high school, and a freshman in college, a bold step for anyone.<br />
The only reason I even called what I was doing preaching, was because my pastor told me "stop calling it speaking and sharing, and call it preaching, because that's what it is." If it wasn't for that moment, I don't know if I ever could have envisioned myself as preacher. You can't call yourself a pastor or preacher, if you are never told you can preach; you just become a teacher or motivational speaker.<br />
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I began calling myself a preacher, while still being the only woman I had ever heard preach. I had no idea what it looked like or what it would be like, but I had these people in my corner telling me it was possible. Who, beyond all odds, kept putting me behind the pulpit and listening to what I had to say.<br />
I never heard a woman preach (outside of myself) until I was well into my time at college. Something I look back on a little bit with sadness, and loneliness. I walked so very much alone in those early years, but the rebel in me also walked a little defiantly that no one would take away what I felt God had placed within me. If it weren't for the defiant small congregation, and small church pastor telling me "you can do this", I don't know if I would have pushed ahead as much as I did.<br />
However, what I hear when I hear myself preach, and what I heard then, was that God uses ordinary people. Ordinary, weird, broken people to do great things for the Kingdom of God. I was a nobody, from a little town, from a little church, a girl, who loved books more than movies, and running barefoot through the woods, and God still used me. God still called me, where I was, in spite of everything that was seemingly stacked against me.<br />
It's no secret that sometimes it takes knowing people to get ahead (sadly, even in the church world). It takes a certain last name, or connections, I had none of those, all I had was this fire in my belly that would only subside if I preached, only to be fanned into even bigger flames.<br />
If God can call and use a girl preacher who had never heard a girl preacher before, a nobody from a nothing town, what can God do in the lives of those girls who never have to be told to call it preaching, because they just know that girls can preach, because they've seen it? I can only imagine great things.<br />
So thanks Pastor Tim, for pushing me into my call, at times pushing and screaming. It was one of my greatest honors 3 years ago, to have you pray over me at ordination knowing that if not for you, that day may never have come. I know you didn't do it for the thanks, for accolades, or with the knowledge that I would one day be a church planter... you did it out of faithfulness, which is the greatest thing I've learned from you.<br />
Thanks church for listening to a girl preacher who didn't know what she was doing, and giving me all sorts of compliments I certainly didn't deserve. My life is forever changed for your faithfulness, and only God knows the ways that that is rippling on into the Kingdom.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">This is a pic of me (middle back row) in that little church with some awesome girls who heard those early sermons. Thanks for enduring those early sermons, I can't imagine they were easy to listen to!</span></div>
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To all the women and girls who are still calling what they do behind a pulpit "sharing" or "speaking", take this bit of advice, call it preaching, cause that's what it is.<br />
To all the girls with that spark in their belly who come behind me, I pray that you hear many women preachers, who speak truth, and weave truth into your life, but even if you don't, do not give up hope, do not give up on your call, hold firm in this truth that God calls girls and women to preach and to pastor, to do great things for the Kingdom of God. Don't squelch that spark, fan it into flames. The journey won't be easy, but it will be great.<br />
When I hear myself preach, the words aren't always eloquent, the exegesis not always good, the congregation isn't always getting it, but what I hear is a woman preaching truth, a woman preaching love, a woman being faithful to the amazing call of God, and it is with that faithfulness that I step behind the pulpit each Sunday and preach "The Word of our LORD. Thanks be to God!" An echo of the faithfulness that has gone before.RCanslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01765676397834567248noreply@blogger.com1