The Mission Church of the Nazarene

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. 

     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."
     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.
     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)
     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.
      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."
    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.
    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.
     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."
     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.
     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.
     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.
     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.
    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.

     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.
      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.
      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.
       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.
     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.
      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.
      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.
     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.
      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.
      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.
     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.
      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.
      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.
       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.

    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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.

    

Advent Candle LiturgyWeek 1: He is Coming

     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.
     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.
      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.
     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.
         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,
           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.
      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.
        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.
       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.
       We are missing out on creating new memories, on creating new movements of justice, on trying new foods, and visiting new places.
       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.
       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.
      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.
        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.
      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.
       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?