Just read an article this morning in the Saturday edition of The Lima News, focusing on the resurgence of people who want to hear the Mass in Latin. Apparently the Pope has relaxed rules on when such a Mass can be used, and there is much rejoicing in the Roman Catholic world.
What gives? Speaking as a former Latin student (in college, one year, which was long enough to convince me to not do a second and switch my major to something not requiring a foreign language) I have a hard time believing that there has been an upsurge in the number of folks learning and speaking Latin. Outside of Vatican City, people only use Latin if they are a Marine ("Semper Fi"), a lawyer, a scientist, a viewer of Wile E. Coyote cartoons (Road Runner: Delecticus Fastus), or when a person tells another person they got ripped off (How many of us only know the phrase "Caveat Emptor" because we heard Mr. Brady utter it on that episode of The Brady Bunch where Greg buys the car that turns out to be a lemon?). What's more, the priest doing this Mass not once turns and faces the congregation, instead chanting it toward the alter. So why are people so excited about worship they can't understand led by a priest who doesn't appear to care whether or not they are there?
Well, I have a little insight to this, thanks to our trip to the Trappist Monastery last summer. There, a group of monks, who worship multiple times a day, recite Psalms, sing hymns to Jesus and the Virgin Mary, and pray, unceasingly and to the same schedule that has been used in that order since 900AD. Now, they do all of this in English, as is the custom of that particular order to use the language spoken in that particular part of the world (for they are an international order) where they are located, but still, the monks sing chants that have remained unchanged for over 1100 years. What's more, they pay no attention to those non-monks who come to the service and sit in the specially designated area for spectators...
and yet, on Sunday morning, each Mass is packed with people from the community and beyond.
And I understand why this is. There's something oddly comforting about their ritual and devotion to their order. The fact that they are more concerned with being in the presence of God, than with any parishioners, is deeply different than what we have become accustomed to in our Protestant worship experience - which is largely becoming more and more consumer oriented. In other words, in my world the worship service is designed to engage the worshiper. Musicians are recruited so the music is appealing. Worship themes (as per my last post) are developed so that music, visuals, and drama can be developed to drill home the "point" of the service. And the preacher sweats out a new sermon each week, hoping and praying that what they say will be entertaining enough to those looking for such a thing, while also being educational enough for those who suspect and despise the idea that all preachers want to do now is entertain people. It's a consumer-driven model where the stakes are being pushed so high that churches are converting their worship spaces into virtual beaches, firehouses, corn fields, or some other space designed with the same attention to detail as a stage for an elaborate musical in order to envelop the worshiper in the experience. A kind of a "Rainforest Cafe" kind of experience, only with praise music.
In a Latin Mass, the focus for those conducting the service isn't on those attending the service. Instead, the attention is focused on doing the Mass right in the presence of a God who, it is believed, is present. The worshiper is taken in by the aire of mystery that comes with hearing music and language that's thousands of years old - mystery which bellies the presence of God in their midst.
Now I'm not so naive as to believe that somehow this push for a Latin Mass is in the end, any less consumer-driven than the seeker-sensitive worship services that churches like Granger Community Church conduct each and every week. In both instances, the main reason people go is because of what they experience and how that which they've participated in has moved them. But one does wonder whether or not people are growing weary of churches trying to keep up with cable TV, Broadway, movie theaters, pop radio, and amusement parks by becoming increasingly driven to manufacture largely emotional experiences, when really all they want is to be in the Lord's presence. In an age where worship has been shaped mainly by the idea that people need to be educated to be illuminated, we probably have much to learn from an earlier age where people maintained a sense of fear, respect, awe, and admiration for the spiritual realm. An earlier age where the presence of the Living God was sought in community, ritual, prayer, and worship conducted in such a way as to invite God into their midst by praising God with all they were.
It's that transcendence people are looking for as the priest speaks a strange language that only God and a relative few people in the world can understand, hoping that He who is largely mysterious and unknown, will grace them with His presence, bringing peace in a difficult world.
So, I say, "Welcome back Latin Mass", while wondering about my place in helping people encounter God in worship.
Semper Fi.
Showing posts with label Beeson Experience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beeson Experience. Show all posts
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
A Farewell to My Beeson Family
Last night we celebrated the end of our Beeson experience at a very nice closing banquet. I've wrestled with how to say "good-bye" to these people. Here's what I came up with...
TIME'S UP!
(a bad poem written with good intentions)
Eleven months... TIME'S UP!
Time to go back into the real world.
Time to wrestle with budgets.
Time to massage egos.
Time to lead with an eye on the prize
and another on the grim faces of those
wondering if we know what we're doing.
Time to move to Oklahoma and Ohio.
Time to move to Texas and Tennessee.
Time to move to Alabama and Georgia.
Time to stay in Kentucky
and teach others that "servant leadership"
means taking the initiative to serve others.
Time to work in the attractional church.
Time to preach to moderns and post-moderns.
Time to do what's been done.
Time to wonder what is coming next
as the Holy Spirit continually renews
the hearts of God's children.
Time to leave the townhouses.
Time to leave the waterpark behind building #208.
Time to leave train whistles at 4am.
Time to leave one another's children
whose lives we have mutually invested in
and whose smiles we will miss.
Time to plant new churches.
Time to renew old churches.
Time to return home to our churches.
Time to faithfully lead from vision
while wearing our heart for our people
and our Savior on our sleeves.
Time to offer them the Gospel.
Time to add conditioner to tangled lives.
Time to call people to commitment.
Time to remember that a hand
that offers a Bible
better be coupled by another hand with a bowl of soup.
Time to laugh and cry
Time to uproot and be rooted
Time to this moment to die and the next to live
Time to remember these words of wisdom:
"Fear God and obey his commands
for this is the duty of every person."
Time to talk about graduations.
Time to talk about reunions.
Time to look forward to children grown.
Time to think about occasional phone calls,
emails, letters, visits, and questions that begin with
"Have you heard from...."
Time in this life is a cruel master.
Time will not relent, or forgive.
Time always demands more from us
Time will forget you,
but I never will.
TIME'S UP!
I hope you make it where you're going,
and you know how much you've blessed me along the way
now and for all time.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Our Upcoming Schedule and a Few Thoughts
Well, two final papers, one sermon, 1700 miles of driving, two nights in a HoJo's, nine interviews, and three finished chapters of a dissertation later, there appears to be a little light at the end of what was a dreary, long tunnel. I don't believe I've ever encountered a more demanding month than April in my life. Between all the assignments due, trips to Korea, California, Arizona, and Connecticut, a dissertation that never seemed quite right or finished, and just everyday life, it was a killer thirty-days. Now I've a couple days of respite before we start looking toward moving back to Lima, and actually working for a living again (as opposed to living on the Beeson Center dole to read books and travel around the world). I'm using this time to hang out with the boys and stay up late to watch the NBA playoffs, and Aimee, right now, today, is using this time to not be in the same place with the three boys she has largely been single parenting for the last month. She's taking a day to run some errands, get a new cell phone (hers is in pieces), eat food she doesn't have to share, and maybe get a massage. That's what she wanted: a whole day alone!
Her wish is my command.
Anyhow, the thing about the future is that it's always becoming the present, no matter whether you want it to, or not. So, here's what we're looking at as a schedule for the next month:
Friday, May 4th
We'll be in Lima to close on our new house. For those who haven't heard, we bought (well, the bank mostly bought actually) the Bishman's home (and former SUMC parsonage) on Sandy Lane. Joe and Marty made us a pretty good offer which we decided to accept. They've done a ton of work on the home, and given that I'm about as handy as a foot, the prospect of not having to do things like replace windows, a roof, furnaces, and the like, appealed greatly. Not mention, we think Sandy Lane is one of the best neighborhoods where you could raise boys, so we're looking forward to the move.
Saturday, May 5th
On this morning, my little brother will be graduating from the Law School at the University of Toledo. Our family, of course, wouldn't miss it. I don't know what kind of lawyer UT's school has made my brother, but it sure did teach him a whole new work ethic and sense of organization. Given that foundation, a budding love for the law, and his time clerking in the Lucas County Public Defender's office, I sense he's off to a great start on his career. Of course he's still got the Bar Exam to contend with, but about that, I worry not. My brother will ace that puppy. Now, hopefully, when he starts working for his father-in-law this year he'll be too busy to put together a decent NBA fantasy league team... and I'll steal next year's title. A guy can dream...
Sunday, May 6th
Shawnee's annual "Blessing of the Bikes" will be in full swing, and it should be a bittersweet kind of morning. It'll be sweet in that hundreds of bikes will in our parking lot, carrying with them dreams of the open road. It'll be a little sad, however, in that it'll be Joseph's good-bye to a community that didn't exist at our church before he arrived. I'll be there that day complete with a motorcycle endorsement on my license, and no motorcycle. I'd own one, but Aimee said something about us not having enough funds to buy both a house and a motorcycle right now, and she refused to live on a motorcycle... so there you go. Some people are just selfish. But I'll find a way to procure a permanent iron steed before the summer is out... I mean, they're always buying plasma!
Monday, May 7th
Say a little prayer at 9am on this day, as I'll be entering room BC-149 for my dissertation proposal hearing. This is the meeting which determines whether or not the study I want to do is a) worthy of academic study and b) well thought out enough to be of any value. I'm not worried about the worthiness of the study, as my bishop requested that I study this topic. That alone should settle the question as to whether or not it would be of any value in the church world. It's the "well thought out" part that's got me a little spooked. After initial negative feedback on my first try at my methodology (a fancy word meaning the systematic plan I have crafted to complete this study) on the part of my mentors, I basically re-wrote it in its entirety Sunday and Monday. Initial response on the part of those in the know has been positive, but we'll know more by Monday afternoon.
Wednesday, May 9th
My favorite post-punk art/math punk band, Ho-Ag, will be playing at Cafe MiAroma in Chattanooga, Tennessee for one night only! If you're wondering how many other post-punk bands I follow, the answer is zero. I just dig Ho-Ag because two of the current members, Matt Parish and Tyler Derryberry, are former youth group-ites from back in the day at Shawnee. These guys have always written weird, somewhat inaccessible music even back when they were in middle school. The cool think about them now is that they never compromised the type and kind of music they wanted to make, and slowly but surely their audience has come to them. Not mention the fact that I can remember the day neither one of them could play a guitar chord, and now they have become truly gifted musicians. Anyhow, much like dark coffee, I have acquired a taste for Ho-Ag, and look forward to hearing them again.
The other very cool part about this show is that Cafe MiAroma is located in the former Fellowship Hall of the First Christian Church of Chattanooga, which is pastored by good friend, Paul Rebelo. Gotta say that I, indirectly, was responsible for this serendipitous meeting of peoples, in that upon looking at Ho-Ag's tour schedule, I emailed various parties to let them know that a) there was a great venue that booked bands like Ho-Ag in Chattanooga and b) that Ho-Ag might be available for a show. Of course, I won't see dollar one for my efforts, but hopefully I can score a discount on a Ho-Ag T-Shirt and a free mocha at the coffee bar.
Anyhow, I haven't seen Pauly and his family since I preached his installation service two years ago. I look forward to see the Rebelo kids (my how I'm sure they've grown), his lovely wife Christine (who, after twelve years married to Pauly, qualifies for sainthood), and of course, one of the few people in this world who not only gets what I do for a living but has been there every step of the way since virtually the beginning of seminary. Paul and I talk at least once every, or every other, week, and have so since we graduated from seminary in 1995. We made the decision to do this after hearing Bishop Reuben Job suggesting that you should as a seminarian find someone, before you become a pastor, you can talk to that doesn't live in your community or go to your church, but still understands ministry. Since then, Pauly and I have walked through all the changes in our family (seven kids between the two of us), eight moves, one change of denominational affiliation, lots of hard times, and lots of laughs. I can't wait to see him, and though I say it every time, we gotta not let so much time go between visits in the future.
Pauly - Thaw out some Portuguese sausage and and dust off the Tecmo Bowl... I'll see you next week!
Sunday, May 13th
Joseph's last Sunday at Shawnee at the Big Kahuna. I'm sure we'll share lots of laughs and tears. Of course, we wont' say "good-bye", but rather, "see you later"... in this life, and in the next.
The cool thing about being a United Methodist pastor is that when you go through a change like this one, you know it won't be long until you see your friend again. Twice a year, at Annual Conference and at our annual Clergy Session, I'll be able to give Joe a hug, and see pictures of the grandkids. To some degree, since he's always been a mentor, he will continue to be, I'm sure, a source of encouragement and wisdom. In any extent, in a lot of ways, Joe has been ministry-wise like a dad (or maybe sometimes a crazy uncle) to me. And I'd be crazy to let that go.
Tuesday, May 15th
For all intensive purposes, the Beeson Pastoral experience ends with our end of year Banquet. In what will be another series of "see you laters" my eleven com padres will be going their separate ways, to live life once again in the grace of Jesus' ministry. Three of them will be moving to Houston, two to various parts of Alabama, one to Georgia, one to Oklahoma, two to Tennessee, one will stay here in Wilmore to work at the Beeson Center, and two of us will make the trek to Ohio. I'd like to say we'll all see one another again, together, in one place, in this life, but reality is that the chances of this are probably pretty long. Life gets busy. People get pulled into different directions. It just becomes more and more difficult to stay connected to people who, at one time, were folks you saw everyday. That's the nature of life.
But as for my eleven fellow BP's: Kent, Alicia, Matt, Aaron, Jason, Scott, Gordon, Travis, Jim, Trav, and Nolan... well, they'll never be far away from me. I count it as the greatest privilege to have been invited to make this journey them. And as much as I learned from Bono in Chicago, a bunch of charismatics on a warm fall day in London, a group of monks in Kentucky, some of the nation's most important pastors in Houston, a very wise bishop in Seoul, and a slew of professors and presenters (not the least being Father Cantalamessa, Richard Foster, Brian McLaren, Steve Chalke, Ben Witherington III, Jerry Walls, and in what was personally the most fascinating presentation of the year, Sandy Richter's take on the historicity of the Old Testament) in the Beeson Center.... all of that paled in comparison to what my friends have taught me. We have had a moment in time that can never be recaptured, and it's that the moment is partially mine that I celebrate now.
(Hey, those aren't tears... it's just a little dusty in here.)
Monday, May 21st
The Bucher's take possession of our new home. I'm guessing Joseph won't have kept up with the lawn work, so I'll be there, breaking out the lawn tractor and tearing out the walls in the basement (to convert it from three smallish bedrooms, to one large rec room). All this to prepare for our moving our stuff out of storage and into the house on Saturday, May 26th. If you're available to help us out that morning, lunch will be on us!
Friday, June 1st
School will be out, so we'll load up the U-Haul and leave Wilmore for good. Sad, and not sad, all at the same time.
Sunday, June 3rd
The culmination of the end of a long, long journey. Probably for five years now I've flirted with the idea of succession. Initially at Goshen First, my former Senior Pastor, Dick Lyndon, dreamed about us switching places - me becoming Senior Pastor and he becoming an associate. That way he could plant more "Life Centers" while golfing more, while I took on the weekly routine of preaching and leading. It was something he talked about quite often after the idea was suggested by Lyle Schaller, a church consultant we heard speak at a conference in Indianapolis. An unresponsive bishop, and (I'm guessing, for a variety of reasons) a more than divided congregation stood in the way of that dream, and when Dick died unexpectedly in early 2004, it all but died with him.
But, I'm not sure why.... maybe it came out of the conversations Joe and I had about what was going on at Goshen, or maybe it was the conversations Dick and Bishop Ough were having about better ways to appoint pastors at local churches, but the dream that began in northern Indiana found it's legs in Northwest Ohio. And while there have been many moments these past three years where I wondered if really, it would ever become reality..... the day is quickly approaching that this which I first discussed in a Texas Roadhouse in suburban Indy, will finally find its day.
Who knows, really, if it will end up working out for the best for the church, the conference, and our family. Those kinds of predictions are hard to make. All I know is that I've kept telling God that the whole crazy scheme was just too hard for me to pull off, and he said, "Good. That means you'll have to depend on me, every step of the way."
Gotta say... my life has been a whole lot better since I took that advice.
That being said, it's good to be back! If I can't get in another post before then, see you next Monday with next week's new "Ten Things I Think I Think". Until then, be good.
Her wish is my command.
Anyhow, the thing about the future is that it's always becoming the present, no matter whether you want it to, or not. So, here's what we're looking at as a schedule for the next month:
Friday, May 4th
We'll be in Lima to close on our new house. For those who haven't heard, we bought (well, the bank mostly bought actually) the Bishman's home (and former SUMC parsonage) on Sandy Lane. Joe and Marty made us a pretty good offer which we decided to accept. They've done a ton of work on the home, and given that I'm about as handy as a foot, the prospect of not having to do things like replace windows, a roof, furnaces, and the like, appealed greatly. Not mention, we think Sandy Lane is one of the best neighborhoods where you could raise boys, so we're looking forward to the move.
Saturday, May 5th
On this morning, my little brother will be graduating from the Law School at the University of Toledo. Our family, of course, wouldn't miss it. I don't know what kind of lawyer UT's school has made my brother, but it sure did teach him a whole new work ethic and sense of organization. Given that foundation, a budding love for the law, and his time clerking in the Lucas County Public Defender's office, I sense he's off to a great start on his career. Of course he's still got the Bar Exam to contend with, but about that, I worry not. My brother will ace that puppy. Now, hopefully, when he starts working for his father-in-law this year he'll be too busy to put together a decent NBA fantasy league team... and I'll steal next year's title. A guy can dream...
Sunday, May 6th
Shawnee's annual "Blessing of the Bikes" will be in full swing, and it should be a bittersweet kind of morning. It'll be sweet in that hundreds of bikes will in our parking lot, carrying with them dreams of the open road. It'll be a little sad, however, in that it'll be Joseph's good-bye to a community that didn't exist at our church before he arrived. I'll be there that day complete with a motorcycle endorsement on my license, and no motorcycle. I'd own one, but Aimee said something about us not having enough funds to buy both a house and a motorcycle right now, and she refused to live on a motorcycle... so there you go. Some people are just selfish. But I'll find a way to procure a permanent iron steed before the summer is out... I mean, they're always buying plasma!
Monday, May 7th
Say a little prayer at 9am on this day, as I'll be entering room BC-149 for my dissertation proposal hearing. This is the meeting which determines whether or not the study I want to do is a) worthy of academic study and b) well thought out enough to be of any value. I'm not worried about the worthiness of the study, as my bishop requested that I study this topic. That alone should settle the question as to whether or not it would be of any value in the church world. It's the "well thought out" part that's got me a little spooked. After initial negative feedback on my first try at my methodology (a fancy word meaning the systematic plan I have crafted to complete this study) on the part of my mentors, I basically re-wrote it in its entirety Sunday and Monday. Initial response on the part of those in the know has been positive, but we'll know more by Monday afternoon.
Wednesday, May 9th
My favorite post-punk art/math punk band, Ho-Ag, will be playing at Cafe MiAroma in Chattanooga, Tennessee for one night only! If you're wondering how many other post-punk bands I follow, the answer is zero. I just dig Ho-Ag because two of the current members, Matt Parish and Tyler Derryberry, are former youth group-ites from back in the day at Shawnee. These guys have always written weird, somewhat inaccessible music even back when they were in middle school. The cool think about them now is that they never compromised the type and kind of music they wanted to make, and slowly but surely their audience has come to them. Not mention the fact that I can remember the day neither one of them could play a guitar chord, and now they have become truly gifted musicians. Anyhow, much like dark coffee, I have acquired a taste for Ho-Ag, and look forward to hearing them again.
The other very cool part about this show is that Cafe MiAroma is located in the former Fellowship Hall of the First Christian Church of Chattanooga, which is pastored by good friend, Paul Rebelo. Gotta say that I, indirectly, was responsible for this serendipitous meeting of peoples, in that upon looking at Ho-Ag's tour schedule, I emailed various parties to let them know that a) there was a great venue that booked bands like Ho-Ag in Chattanooga and b) that Ho-Ag might be available for a show. Of course, I won't see dollar one for my efforts, but hopefully I can score a discount on a Ho-Ag T-Shirt and a free mocha at the coffee bar.
Anyhow, I haven't seen Pauly and his family since I preached his installation service two years ago. I look forward to see the Rebelo kids (my how I'm sure they've grown), his lovely wife Christine (who, after twelve years married to Pauly, qualifies for sainthood), and of course, one of the few people in this world who not only gets what I do for a living but has been there every step of the way since virtually the beginning of seminary. Paul and I talk at least once every, or every other, week, and have so since we graduated from seminary in 1995. We made the decision to do this after hearing Bishop Reuben Job suggesting that you should as a seminarian find someone, before you become a pastor, you can talk to that doesn't live in your community or go to your church, but still understands ministry. Since then, Pauly and I have walked through all the changes in our family (seven kids between the two of us), eight moves, one change of denominational affiliation, lots of hard times, and lots of laughs. I can't wait to see him, and though I say it every time, we gotta not let so much time go between visits in the future.
Pauly - Thaw out some Portuguese sausage and and dust off the Tecmo Bowl... I'll see you next week!
Sunday, May 13th
Joseph's last Sunday at Shawnee at the Big Kahuna. I'm sure we'll share lots of laughs and tears. Of course, we wont' say "good-bye", but rather, "see you later"... in this life, and in the next.
The cool thing about being a United Methodist pastor is that when you go through a change like this one, you know it won't be long until you see your friend again. Twice a year, at Annual Conference and at our annual Clergy Session, I'll be able to give Joe a hug, and see pictures of the grandkids. To some degree, since he's always been a mentor, he will continue to be, I'm sure, a source of encouragement and wisdom. In any extent, in a lot of ways, Joe has been ministry-wise like a dad (or maybe sometimes a crazy uncle) to me. And I'd be crazy to let that go.
Tuesday, May 15th
For all intensive purposes, the Beeson Pastoral experience ends with our end of year Banquet. In what will be another series of "see you laters" my eleven com padres will be going their separate ways, to live life once again in the grace of Jesus' ministry. Three of them will be moving to Houston, two to various parts of Alabama, one to Georgia, one to Oklahoma, two to Tennessee, one will stay here in Wilmore to work at the Beeson Center, and two of us will make the trek to Ohio. I'd like to say we'll all see one another again, together, in one place, in this life, but reality is that the chances of this are probably pretty long. Life gets busy. People get pulled into different directions. It just becomes more and more difficult to stay connected to people who, at one time, were folks you saw everyday. That's the nature of life.
But as for my eleven fellow BP's: Kent, Alicia, Matt, Aaron, Jason, Scott, Gordon, Travis, Jim, Trav, and Nolan... well, they'll never be far away from me. I count it as the greatest privilege to have been invited to make this journey them. And as much as I learned from Bono in Chicago, a bunch of charismatics on a warm fall day in London, a group of monks in Kentucky, some of the nation's most important pastors in Houston, a very wise bishop in Seoul, and a slew of professors and presenters (not the least being Father Cantalamessa, Richard Foster, Brian McLaren, Steve Chalke, Ben Witherington III, Jerry Walls, and in what was personally the most fascinating presentation of the year, Sandy Richter's take on the historicity of the Old Testament) in the Beeson Center.... all of that paled in comparison to what my friends have taught me. We have had a moment in time that can never be recaptured, and it's that the moment is partially mine that I celebrate now.
(Hey, those aren't tears... it's just a little dusty in here.)
Monday, May 21st
The Bucher's take possession of our new home. I'm guessing Joseph won't have kept up with the lawn work, so I'll be there, breaking out the lawn tractor and tearing out the walls in the basement (to convert it from three smallish bedrooms, to one large rec room). All this to prepare for our moving our stuff out of storage and into the house on Saturday, May 26th. If you're available to help us out that morning, lunch will be on us!
Friday, June 1st
School will be out, so we'll load up the U-Haul and leave Wilmore for good. Sad, and not sad, all at the same time.
Sunday, June 3rd
The culmination of the end of a long, long journey. Probably for five years now I've flirted with the idea of succession. Initially at Goshen First, my former Senior Pastor, Dick Lyndon, dreamed about us switching places - me becoming Senior Pastor and he becoming an associate. That way he could plant more "Life Centers" while golfing more, while I took on the weekly routine of preaching and leading. It was something he talked about quite often after the idea was suggested by Lyle Schaller, a church consultant we heard speak at a conference in Indianapolis. An unresponsive bishop, and (I'm guessing, for a variety of reasons) a more than divided congregation stood in the way of that dream, and when Dick died unexpectedly in early 2004, it all but died with him.
But, I'm not sure why.... maybe it came out of the conversations Joe and I had about what was going on at Goshen, or maybe it was the conversations Dick and Bishop Ough were having about better ways to appoint pastors at local churches, but the dream that began in northern Indiana found it's legs in Northwest Ohio. And while there have been many moments these past three years where I wondered if really, it would ever become reality..... the day is quickly approaching that this which I first discussed in a Texas Roadhouse in suburban Indy, will finally find its day.
Who knows, really, if it will end up working out for the best for the church, the conference, and our family. Those kinds of predictions are hard to make. All I know is that I've kept telling God that the whole crazy scheme was just too hard for me to pull off, and he said, "Good. That means you'll have to depend on me, every step of the way."
Gotta say... my life has been a whole lot better since I took that advice.
That being said, it's good to be back! If I can't get in another post before then, see you next Monday with next week's new "Ten Things I Think I Think". Until then, be good.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Tired and new contest v2.0
As added this morning as an example to my Beeson Pastoral colleagues of how a few well-chosen words can have far greater effect than lots of semi well-chosen ones:
Well, travel most of the month of April all over hell and high water, and the result when you get home is just being plain tired. Such is my state of mind now that I'm ensconced back in Wilmore, Kentucky, facing the completion of two late final projects, one sermon, another trip to do some interviews at a church in Connecticut, and final completion of three chapters of a dissertation all in the next nine days. They said you should never get behind in this program, and now I know why. The hammer has fallen. That being said, here are few rambling unconnected thoughts as we speed toward the weekend:
- Here are more updates on my Beeson Pastor colleagues and where they'll be headed when this year is over the end of May:
Alicia Coltzer will be heading back to Houston to serve at a small struggling church in a part of the city that is gentrifying. With the support of a large congregation that has been for a year working with this small church to try and help turn it around it, Alicia will try and take a group of eighteen congregants (most over the age of 70) in a section of town where property values are exploding as people come to take advantage of what have been large homes that had been rundown but are now being rehabbed, and reach a community mostly made up of young singles, married, and baby-boomers downsizing into retirement. It's her dream job.
Nolan Donald will also be heading to Houston to the same church our colleague Jim Martin will be serving for the purpose of starting a new congregation somewhere in that huge city sometime in the next two years.
Matt Scholl will be making the leap from South Indiana to West Ohio to service as Senior Pastor at Aley United Methodist Church, which is in suburban Dayton. Home to his folks, Dayton is a bit of homecoming of Matt. I know he's excited about the church, and the possibilities it presents for ministry.
Aaron Wymer has decided against returning to Grandview Christian Church in Johnson City, Tennessee, and instead has elected instead to join the circus to pursue his dream of becoming a lion-tamer. As he does his training, he'll also be filling out the slate of clowns, tent putter-uppers, and cotton-candy salespeople needed to keep "Pincher and Finch's Greatest Show In the mid-Atlantic New England Area" on the road. Of course the good folks at Pincher and Finch, at this time, cannot afford actual lions, so Aaron will begin his training with nineteen cats from the local Humane Society of Portland, Maine. Good luck Aaron, as you live the dream.
(Note one of the last four updates was faked. Make your guess as to which one by emailing me at bryan_bucher@asburyseminary.edu by May 2nd. Guess the right one and you'll be entered in a drawing to win John Goldengay's riveting best seller, "Models for Interpretation of Scripture" OR the Michigan t-shirt I'll be wearing because the Buckeyes let me down not once, or twice, but thrice against Florida over the last five months, for my last sermon here at school on May 3rd, which I will subsequently also personally deface. Your choice.)
- Reconnected recently with Stacy Foster, a fellow LSHS grad and Spring Street homey, via MySpace. Stacy's name is no longer "Foster", and hasn't been for ten years now, as she's happily married and has three great kids. No matter how old she and her husband get, though, they'll both be the coolest parents among ever, given the fact that Stacy met her husband while he was a drummer in a rock-n-roll band, and he met her while she was working as a graphics artists doing custom graphics on tricked out cars. Yeah... a guy who covered Alex Van Halen and a lady who used to work at a "Pimp My Ride" body shop. Their kids are going to rebel by becoming a stock-broker, environmental scientist, and city planner. Just wait and see.
- I heard Alicia marveling today that rent in the area of Houston she'll be living in starts on a tiny house at $1300 a month, and that you can't touch buying a home in that area for less than $190,000... which would have impressed me, except that I just returned home from Southern California, where on the radio they advertise starter homes "starting only at $600,0000". It's no wonder why they're doing 50 year, interest-only loans out there. Otherwise, everyone would be living on the beach.
Which by the way, is where I had this view while eating dinner my last night (actually on the Huntington Beach Pier at a little fifties diner called "Ruby's" - I'd recommend it to anyone) in LA:
No offense to my family members who live out there, are suburb hosts, and wouldn't live anywhere else, but I'd sooner spend the next three years living above the Arctic Circle than five living in LA. True, it's beautiful, the weather is great, there are no mosquitoes, and you can surf and ski without having to take an airline flight. Couple that with the chance to see the stars (I think I saw that actress in Spiderman at a parking garage getting into a Toyota Spider.... but then again, I could be wrong), and LA is probably the most desirable place to live in the country....
if you like living in a place where every last person is jammed as close together as humanly possible, they all drive cars, and the landscape is largely made up of nothing but freeways and strip-malls.
Not for me, thanks.
I'll be happy to take the wife and kids out west to visit the family, and then go home where, yeah, it snows and you have to wear "Off" all summer, but you can also get anywhere in fifteen minutes or less (as opposed to LA where everything is an hour away, except a Starbucks... there's a law there that apparently you can't be further away than a couple of blocks from one so they are everywhere, which is another good reason for me not to live there - I'd die of caffeine poisoning within three months.) Also, I've decided that I like big open spaces filled with nothing with soybean and corn plants. We'll be getting our Barnes and Noble in Lima soon, so as far as I'm concerned, the town is about perfect.
That's why they call us "settlers". We stopped in a place in Lima, looked around, shrugged our shoulders, said "Eh... good enough", and settled for what we got. I'll take it, happily.
Come visit. We'll go to the Allen County Museum and get a Kewpee. On me!
- Finally, on a more serious note, given the tragedy in Blacksburg, have to tell you I heard a conservative talk show host arguing that what we need to do is arm students in our schools with concealed weapons to deter such things from ever happening again.
Um..... call me a liberal hippy if you want, but I've a sense that might create more problems than it solves. Just a hunch.
More likely, I suspect that in cases where students are obviously mentally ill, like this young man was, instead of letting he or she just hang around campus, that something more pro-active than just sending him for treatment will become the norm. I mean, if a college junior isn't willing to say his name or read out loud in class, something is wrong. Severely wrong. We're not talking about a run-of-the-mill-malcontent here. He creeped out a prof so bad, he had to go to a tutor the rest of the semester or the prof was going to quit. That's a pretty serious sign something was not right. Whether it be greater monitoring of whether or not the student is taking their meds, or the possibility of requiring more extensive treatment, I'd suspect we'll see some changes in how campus administrators deal with mentally ill persons exhibiting wildly anti-social behavior.
At least, let's hope so.
Well, travel most of the month of April all over hell and high water, and the result when you get home is just being plain tired. Such is my state of mind now that I'm ensconced back in Wilmore, Kentucky, facing the completion of two late final projects, one sermon, another trip to do some interviews at a church in Connecticut, and final completion of three chapters of a dissertation all in the next nine days. They said you should never get behind in this program, and now I know why. The hammer has fallen. That being said, here are few rambling unconnected thoughts as we speed toward the weekend:
- Here are more updates on my Beeson Pastor colleagues and where they'll be headed when this year is over the end of May:
Alicia Coltzer will be heading back to Houston to serve at a small struggling church in a part of the city that is gentrifying. With the support of a large congregation that has been for a year working with this small church to try and help turn it around it, Alicia will try and take a group of eighteen congregants (most over the age of 70) in a section of town where property values are exploding as people come to take advantage of what have been large homes that had been rundown but are now being rehabbed, and reach a community mostly made up of young singles, married, and baby-boomers downsizing into retirement. It's her dream job.
Nolan Donald will also be heading to Houston to the same church our colleague Jim Martin will be serving for the purpose of starting a new congregation somewhere in that huge city sometime in the next two years.
Matt Scholl will be making the leap from South Indiana to West Ohio to service as Senior Pastor at Aley United Methodist Church, which is in suburban Dayton. Home to his folks, Dayton is a bit of homecoming of Matt. I know he's excited about the church, and the possibilities it presents for ministry.
Aaron Wymer has decided against returning to Grandview Christian Church in Johnson City, Tennessee, and instead has elected instead to join the circus to pursue his dream of becoming a lion-tamer. As he does his training, he'll also be filling out the slate of clowns, tent putter-uppers, and cotton-candy salespeople needed to keep "Pincher and Finch's Greatest Show In the mid-Atlantic New England Area" on the road. Of course the good folks at Pincher and Finch, at this time, cannot afford actual lions, so Aaron will begin his training with nineteen cats from the local Humane Society of Portland, Maine. Good luck Aaron, as you live the dream.
(Note one of the last four updates was faked. Make your guess as to which one by emailing me at bryan_bucher@asburyseminary.edu by May 2nd. Guess the right one and you'll be entered in a drawing to win John Goldengay's riveting best seller, "Models for Interpretation of Scripture" OR the Michigan t-shirt I'll be wearing because the Buckeyes let me down not once, or twice, but thrice against Florida over the last five months, for my last sermon here at school on May 3rd, which I will subsequently also personally deface. Your choice.)
- Reconnected recently with Stacy Foster, a fellow LSHS grad and Spring Street homey, via MySpace. Stacy's name is no longer "Foster", and hasn't been for ten years now, as she's happily married and has three great kids. No matter how old she and her husband get, though, they'll both be the coolest parents among ever, given the fact that Stacy met her husband while he was a drummer in a rock-n-roll band, and he met her while she was working as a graphics artists doing custom graphics on tricked out cars. Yeah... a guy who covered Alex Van Halen and a lady who used to work at a "Pimp My Ride" body shop. Their kids are going to rebel by becoming a stock-broker, environmental scientist, and city planner. Just wait and see.
- I heard Alicia marveling today that rent in the area of Houston she'll be living in starts on a tiny house at $1300 a month, and that you can't touch buying a home in that area for less than $190,000... which would have impressed me, except that I just returned home from Southern California, where on the radio they advertise starter homes "starting only at $600,0000". It's no wonder why they're doing 50 year, interest-only loans out there. Otherwise, everyone would be living on the beach.
Which by the way, is where I had this view while eating dinner my last night (actually on the Huntington Beach Pier at a little fifties diner called "Ruby's" - I'd recommend it to anyone) in LA:
No offense to my family members who live out there, are suburb hosts, and wouldn't live anywhere else, but I'd sooner spend the next three years living above the Arctic Circle than five living in LA. True, it's beautiful, the weather is great, there are no mosquitoes, and you can surf and ski without having to take an airline flight. Couple that with the chance to see the stars (I think I saw that actress in Spiderman at a parking garage getting into a Toyota Spider.... but then again, I could be wrong), and LA is probably the most desirable place to live in the country....
if you like living in a place where every last person is jammed as close together as humanly possible, they all drive cars, and the landscape is largely made up of nothing but freeways and strip-malls.
Not for me, thanks.
I'll be happy to take the wife and kids out west to visit the family, and then go home where, yeah, it snows and you have to wear "Off" all summer, but you can also get anywhere in fifteen minutes or less (as opposed to LA where everything is an hour away, except a Starbucks... there's a law there that apparently you can't be further away than a couple of blocks from one so they are everywhere, which is another good reason for me not to live there - I'd die of caffeine poisoning within three months.) Also, I've decided that I like big open spaces filled with nothing with soybean and corn plants. We'll be getting our Barnes and Noble in Lima soon, so as far as I'm concerned, the town is about perfect.
That's why they call us "settlers". We stopped in a place in Lima, looked around, shrugged our shoulders, said "Eh... good enough", and settled for what we got. I'll take it, happily.
Come visit. We'll go to the Allen County Museum and get a Kewpee. On me!
- Finally, on a more serious note, given the tragedy in Blacksburg, have to tell you I heard a conservative talk show host arguing that what we need to do is arm students in our schools with concealed weapons to deter such things from ever happening again.
Um..... call me a liberal hippy if you want, but I've a sense that might create more problems than it solves. Just a hunch.
More likely, I suspect that in cases where students are obviously mentally ill, like this young man was, instead of letting he or she just hang around campus, that something more pro-active than just sending him for treatment will become the norm. I mean, if a college junior isn't willing to say his name or read out loud in class, something is wrong. Severely wrong. We're not talking about a run-of-the-mill-malcontent here. He creeped out a prof so bad, he had to go to a tutor the rest of the semester or the prof was going to quit. That's a pretty serious sign something was not right. Whether it be greater monitoring of whether or not the student is taking their meds, or the possibility of requiring more extensive treatment, I'd suspect we'll see some changes in how campus administrators deal with mentally ill persons exhibiting wildly anti-social behavior.
At least, let's hope so.
Monday, April 16, 2007
A Brief Word from Blythe, California
Am on my way back to Costa Mesa after a weekend in Tucson at Casas Adobes Church, which is a fascinating megachurch in the middle of multiple transitions. They are transitioning primary leaders. They are transitioning their worship style. They are transitioning all their program. Staff are being transitioned as some are laid off or retire. It's just a place in complete flux.
Spending time at the Southern Baptist Casas Adobes and the Episcopalian All Saints all within days of one another was an experience. At one place the congregation is grappling with the pain that comes with living an individual life, while at the other there is grappling with the pain that comes with living in unjust systems. Thus at Casas the main function of the church is to get people into something called Adult Bible Fellowships (which are essentially Sunday Schools that meet throughout the worship services on Sunday morning) while the main function at All Saints is to get people in some sort of activist ministry. Whether it be environmental justice, or alleviating the plight of migratory farm workers, or volunteering in a free medical clinic, All Saints wants you to find your passion and turn you loose. This is simplified explanation, of course. There are hundreds of ministries going at Casas right now (one lady I met started one geared toward reaching out to young mothers who have just moved to the community) and they do a lot of mission work in their community, the immediate far west, and in Mexico. But you can feel the difference in emphasis. It's palpable.
What there is no difference in, however, is the passion that the people in both congregations feel for their worshiping community. I think with all the flux that maybe Casas is feeling some strain right now (as probably did All Saints 12 years ago when they made the shift in Rectors) but in both cases there was a sense of belief in the church's mission and ministry. A devotion to the idea that the church attended makes the the world a better place. And that sense that everyone, from the lead pastor to staff to laity, all believe that they are part of something bigger and more important than themselves, creates an attitude of mutual humility. If people treat one another in humility, then grace, even when there are differences, is what people extend to one another by default. Grace that results, I think, in mutual love and admiration, as well as an ongoing challenge that people demand the best out themselves as they seek to worship the Lord.
I don't know, exactly, what Jesus envisioned when we talked about the need for Christian community, but I've a sense both churches have captured at least a piece of that vision.
Anyhow after an interesting six days, seeing the landscape of two beautiful areas of the country (Southern California, and the painted mountains of Tucson), and some catching up with some family and friends, I am headed back to California, where I'll be flying out of Orange Country tomorrow morning. I'm trying to get some other papers finished, so this week's Ten Things will be delayed until Wednesday.
Hope you had a nice weekend.
Spending time at the Southern Baptist Casas Adobes and the Episcopalian All Saints all within days of one another was an experience. At one place the congregation is grappling with the pain that comes with living an individual life, while at the other there is grappling with the pain that comes with living in unjust systems. Thus at Casas the main function of the church is to get people into something called Adult Bible Fellowships (which are essentially Sunday Schools that meet throughout the worship services on Sunday morning) while the main function at All Saints is to get people in some sort of activist ministry. Whether it be environmental justice, or alleviating the plight of migratory farm workers, or volunteering in a free medical clinic, All Saints wants you to find your passion and turn you loose. This is simplified explanation, of course. There are hundreds of ministries going at Casas right now (one lady I met started one geared toward reaching out to young mothers who have just moved to the community) and they do a lot of mission work in their community, the immediate far west, and in Mexico. But you can feel the difference in emphasis. It's palpable.
What there is no difference in, however, is the passion that the people in both congregations feel for their worshiping community. I think with all the flux that maybe Casas is feeling some strain right now (as probably did All Saints 12 years ago when they made the shift in Rectors) but in both cases there was a sense of belief in the church's mission and ministry. A devotion to the idea that the church attended makes the the world a better place. And that sense that everyone, from the lead pastor to staff to laity, all believe that they are part of something bigger and more important than themselves, creates an attitude of mutual humility. If people treat one another in humility, then grace, even when there are differences, is what people extend to one another by default. Grace that results, I think, in mutual love and admiration, as well as an ongoing challenge that people demand the best out themselves as they seek to worship the Lord.
I don't know, exactly, what Jesus envisioned when we talked about the need for Christian community, but I've a sense both churches have captured at least a piece of that vision.
Anyhow after an interesting six days, seeing the landscape of two beautiful areas of the country (Southern California, and the painted mountains of Tucson), and some catching up with some family and friends, I am headed back to California, where I'll be flying out of Orange Country tomorrow morning. I'm trying to get some other papers finished, so this week's Ten Things will be delayed until Wednesday.
Hope you had a nice weekend.
Friday, April 13, 2007
A brief update after a day at All Saints Church in beautiful Pasadena
After driving on THE 405, THE 605, THE 5, and THE 110, (Aaron Wymer kids me about how we call it THE Ohio State University... well, every highway, as pointed out to me by former SoCal resident and blog reader, John Rex, is THE number that it is. You don't take I-5, or Number 5, or are told to go over on 5. It's always take THE 5. I'd rather take THE bus or THE subway, but this is the most car dependent place in the world. It's an urban planning nightmare) let me just say I take everything back about Dad not moving here that I wrote yesterday. SoCal is a great place....
to visit.
Heard an ad for a Mercedes Benz convertible which used the tag line, "out here, you have love being in your car". Considering traffic is so bad that virtually everything is an hour away, maybe never before has advertising been so truthful. Let's just say I wouldn't want to drive a beat up Geo Metro here every day. That's a fact jack. Ohio is looking better and better all the time.
Did a bunch of interviews today at All Saints Episcopal Church (all though in an effort to be more inclusive, they've dropped the "Episcopal" from the name). What Asbury is to conservative Wesleyan theology, All Saints is to liberal social justice ministry. I think it will be by far the most "leftist" church included in my study, and will probably be in many ways the most instructive and interesting. The pastor emeritus, George Regas, who really helped put All Saints on the map nationally, made his name as a young pastor coming out against the Vietnam War. Considering at the time Pasadena was one of the most conservative areas in California (an area that was staunchly supportive of Ron Reagan while he was governor, and then President) you can imagine how much hot water he was in at the time. However, on the other side, I guess the admiration he won in his stand ended up leading to more people coming to the church than leaving it, so he kept his job, and All Saints became the activist church that is today.
Which leads me to ask this question: How much of what we preach and teach is really determined by the cultural environment we're in, and how much of it comes out of our conviction? I mean, LA isn't exactly a hotbed of conservatism, and Regas exceedingly progressive message (which has been continued by Bacon... let's just say they're not big George Bush fans) has found a huge, and growing audience in this part of the world. Of course, if he preached the same thing in most places at home, his impact and following would be somewhat diminished. So would he have pushed the same message as a pastor in say, Columbus or Dayton or Sidney over the years or not? Considering that he expressed in his book, and in our conversation today, the idea that the various constituencies in his church pushed him out of his comfort zone again and again, one wonders. If George hadn't been pushed by his people and the issues pertinent in a place like LA, would he have retired being recognized for being more conventional theologically? Would he have taken the same risk in say, Omaha back in 1971?
I suppose we'll never know, but considering it seems that I am recognizing in my sermon planning how much I edit and censor myself, I wonder how much of what we preach is tempered by seeking approval and support from our people. Evangelicals, for example, didn't really get all that interested in the AIDS pandemic in Africa or environmental justice until their own constituencies began to express their concern about these issues. How often is our prophetic voice muzzled until we think maybe it'll be OK to stretch out neck out and not risk getting out head cut off?
Anyhow, say what you want about the church and its theology (as I'm sure my conservative colleagues will do so in abundance once they investigate the website some more) but you can't argue with the church's track record. The willingness to empower laity to reach out and serve others in multitude of ways has made All Saints a respected church in the LA area. It fostered an AIDS ministries, a free medical clinic to uninsured children, and one of the first shelters for battered women years for other churches took similar initiatives. And the number of people at the church who are involved in some kind of justice ministry (everything from environmental justice, to a group that has decided to show their support to the troops and their families) is staggering: Literally thousands of people from every walk of life, ethnicity, and part of the Greater LA metro area.
Anyhow, the place made me think a lot about what is required of a pastoral leader, and what it means to be not just a priesthood of all believers, but a prophethood of all believers. While I can't ever see myself taking some of the extreme positions theologically or politically these guys do (I'm just a guy who believes the narrow way is the one in the middle) I don't want our people's lives or their community to be same after encountering our church. I think Jesus demands more of us. Now just how that looks in Lima, Ohio, is what I'm praying about, in earnest, right now. I'm sure it will lead to some interesting conclusions.
Tomorrow, one last interview with a person at All Saints (a retired foreign correspondent with a major newspaper), and a drive to Arizona. See you Tucson!
to visit.
Heard an ad for a Mercedes Benz convertible which used the tag line, "out here, you have love being in your car". Considering traffic is so bad that virtually everything is an hour away, maybe never before has advertising been so truthful. Let's just say I wouldn't want to drive a beat up Geo Metro here every day. That's a fact jack. Ohio is looking better and better all the time.
Did a bunch of interviews today at All Saints Episcopal Church (all though in an effort to be more inclusive, they've dropped the "Episcopal" from the name). What Asbury is to conservative Wesleyan theology, All Saints is to liberal social justice ministry. I think it will be by far the most "leftist" church included in my study, and will probably be in many ways the most instructive and interesting. The pastor emeritus, George Regas, who really helped put All Saints on the map nationally, made his name as a young pastor coming out against the Vietnam War. Considering at the time Pasadena was one of the most conservative areas in California (an area that was staunchly supportive of Ron Reagan while he was governor, and then President) you can imagine how much hot water he was in at the time. However, on the other side, I guess the admiration he won in his stand ended up leading to more people coming to the church than leaving it, so he kept his job, and All Saints became the activist church that is today.
Which leads me to ask this question: How much of what we preach and teach is really determined by the cultural environment we're in, and how much of it comes out of our conviction? I mean, LA isn't exactly a hotbed of conservatism, and Regas exceedingly progressive message (which has been continued by Bacon... let's just say they're not big George Bush fans) has found a huge, and growing audience in this part of the world. Of course, if he preached the same thing in most places at home, his impact and following would be somewhat diminished. So would he have pushed the same message as a pastor in say, Columbus or Dayton or Sidney over the years or not? Considering that he expressed in his book, and in our conversation today, the idea that the various constituencies in his church pushed him out of his comfort zone again and again, one wonders. If George hadn't been pushed by his people and the issues pertinent in a place like LA, would he have retired being recognized for being more conventional theologically? Would he have taken the same risk in say, Omaha back in 1971?
I suppose we'll never know, but considering it seems that I am recognizing in my sermon planning how much I edit and censor myself, I wonder how much of what we preach is tempered by seeking approval and support from our people. Evangelicals, for example, didn't really get all that interested in the AIDS pandemic in Africa or environmental justice until their own constituencies began to express their concern about these issues. How often is our prophetic voice muzzled until we think maybe it'll be OK to stretch out neck out and not risk getting out head cut off?
Anyhow, say what you want about the church and its theology (as I'm sure my conservative colleagues will do so in abundance once they investigate the website some more) but you can't argue with the church's track record. The willingness to empower laity to reach out and serve others in multitude of ways has made All Saints a respected church in the LA area. It fostered an AIDS ministries, a free medical clinic to uninsured children, and one of the first shelters for battered women years for other churches took similar initiatives. And the number of people at the church who are involved in some kind of justice ministry (everything from environmental justice, to a group that has decided to show their support to the troops and their families) is staggering: Literally thousands of people from every walk of life, ethnicity, and part of the Greater LA metro area.
Anyhow, the place made me think a lot about what is required of a pastoral leader, and what it means to be not just a priesthood of all believers, but a prophethood of all believers. While I can't ever see myself taking some of the extreme positions theologically or politically these guys do (I'm just a guy who believes the narrow way is the one in the middle) I don't want our people's lives or their community to be same after encountering our church. I think Jesus demands more of us. Now just how that looks in Lima, Ohio, is what I'm praying about, in earnest, right now. I'm sure it will lead to some interesting conclusions.
Tomorrow, one last interview with a person at All Saints (a retired foreign correspondent with a major newspaper), and a drive to Arizona. See you Tucson!
Thursday, April 12, 2007
This is the O.C.
In another strange twist in a wonderfully bizarre year, I find myself typing this blog using pirated wireless internet in the guest bedroom of my Uncle Dennis' home in Costa Mesa, California. As a part of this Beeson Pastor experience, we were told we could go visit two churches we want to see, all expenses paid by the Beeson Center (Thank You Uncle Frank!). Thus, after a totally (and I am not making this up.... it was the best flight I've ever been on) smooth flight on Delta Airlines, a rented MPV mini-van (I reserved a HHR.... they apparently knew how to TAKE the reservation, but couldn't HOLD the reservation, which is really the most important part of the reservation process), a trip to the Soup Plantation (it's like the Golden Corral, except there's no meat... just salad and soup and surprise - it was great!), a nice day long visit with family, and a few frantic phone calls to bolster some last minute arrangements, I'm in the heart of the O.C., thirty minutes from Laguna Beach.
Strange, but true.
Have never been California before, and it pretty much looks like Ohio, except its pretty and warm. Am wondering why my Dad's brother had the foresight to come out here years ago and buy real estate that is now priced out of the stratosphere (no joke kids... I'm in a very nice ranch style house, with no basement, on a tiny lot, and the average value of a home on this street is $750,000) and I'm living near my folks in Lima? How did that happen? Dad became an engineer cause Dennis became an engineer. Why not follow his lead and move somewhere where it's in the 70's year round with no mosquitoes?
(sigh)
Anyhow, over the next six days I'll be doing nine interviews at All-Saints Episcopal church in Pasadena, making what MapQuest says is a seven-hour trek to Tucson, Arizona to do eight more interviews and some worship at Casas Adobes Church, a stop in Phoenix to see a former youth group-ite from the very old days, and will end my experience eating a place called Ruby's which sits on a pier, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I already received the treat of seeing my cousin Brenda, her husband Brad, and most of their kids (the oldest is 22 and a senior at Cal-Poly, while their youngest is 5 and starting kindergarten next year.... pardon me while I laugh so hard that I damage my spleen. Also, that reminds me, I'll need to make a little appointment with a doctor when I get home). Here's a couple of pics:
All of Brenda's boys play all kinds of sports, ski, ride motorcycles in the desert, have lots of fun, and break lots of bones. They are great kids. Their folks are doing a great job raising their boys.
Later in the evening Dennis and Sandy's daughter (my cousin) Heather and her husband Paul stopped by for dinner (Salmon on the grill, salad, green beans, and lots of other healthy stuff... between that the salad today my system doesn't know what to do), as did also Sandy's mother. It was a lovely evening of my catching up with family and hearing what Californians talk about, which is mostly the price of real estate, the beautiful place they just went to or about to go to, and how to drive from point A to point B.
And by far, most of the time is spent on talking about the best way to get places. It's like an obsession in these parts, where everything (except the beach) is an hour away unless the traffic is bad. So you talk about the best ways to beat the traffic. I'm just hoping I don't get lost and end up in Compton with Dr. Dre or in the LBC with Snoop Dogg . I've seen to many rap videos and movies about South Central to feel safe in that part of the world. Fo shizzle, my hizzle!
Anyhow, I've been up since 4am EST, and now it's almost 2am at home, so I'd better hit the hay. More tomorrow if the neighbor doesn't encrypt their wireless internet before tomorrow night.
But before I do, say a little prayer for my cousin Rhonda (Brenda and Heather's sister) who just had surgery (probably the only breast reduction done in the last six months in Southern California - I hear it's already made a huge difference for the better in how she feels), Sue Dickerson (knee replacement surgery - heard her knee was so bad that the surgeon said she'd have less pain in post-op with no meds than what she experienced walking around on that thing), and for Stacy Minger, a prof at Asbury (who traveled with us to London and Korea) who has been experiencing some MS-esque symptoms the past few days (very serious!).
Guess I'll do a little California dreamin'.
Strange, but true.
Have never been California before, and it pretty much looks like Ohio, except its pretty and warm. Am wondering why my Dad's brother had the foresight to come out here years ago and buy real estate that is now priced out of the stratosphere (no joke kids... I'm in a very nice ranch style house, with no basement, on a tiny lot, and the average value of a home on this street is $750,000) and I'm living near my folks in Lima? How did that happen? Dad became an engineer cause Dennis became an engineer. Why not follow his lead and move somewhere where it's in the 70's year round with no mosquitoes?
(sigh)
Anyhow, over the next six days I'll be doing nine interviews at All-Saints Episcopal church in Pasadena, making what MapQuest says is a seven-hour trek to Tucson, Arizona to do eight more interviews and some worship at Casas Adobes Church, a stop in Phoenix to see a former youth group-ite from the very old days, and will end my experience eating a place called Ruby's which sits on a pier, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I already received the treat of seeing my cousin Brenda, her husband Brad, and most of their kids (the oldest is 22 and a senior at Cal-Poly, while their youngest is 5 and starting kindergarten next year.... pardon me while I laugh so hard that I damage my spleen. Also, that reminds me, I'll need to make a little appointment with a doctor when I get home). Here's a couple of pics:
All of Brenda's boys play all kinds of sports, ski, ride motorcycles in the desert, have lots of fun, and break lots of bones. They are great kids. Their folks are doing a great job raising their boys.
Later in the evening Dennis and Sandy's daughter (my cousin) Heather and her husband Paul stopped by for dinner (Salmon on the grill, salad, green beans, and lots of other healthy stuff... between that the salad today my system doesn't know what to do), as did also Sandy's mother. It was a lovely evening of my catching up with family and hearing what Californians talk about, which is mostly the price of real estate, the beautiful place they just went to or about to go to, and how to drive from point A to point B.
And by far, most of the time is spent on talking about the best way to get places. It's like an obsession in these parts, where everything (except the beach) is an hour away unless the traffic is bad. So you talk about the best ways to beat the traffic. I'm just hoping I don't get lost and end up in Compton with Dr. Dre or in the LBC with Snoop Dogg . I've seen to many rap videos and movies about South Central to feel safe in that part of the world. Fo shizzle, my hizzle!
Anyhow, I've been up since 4am EST, and now it's almost 2am at home, so I'd better hit the hay. More tomorrow if the neighbor doesn't encrypt their wireless internet before tomorrow night.
But before I do, say a little prayer for my cousin Rhonda (Brenda and Heather's sister) who just had surgery (probably the only breast reduction done in the last six months in Southern California - I hear it's already made a huge difference for the better in how she feels), Sue Dickerson (knee replacement surgery - heard her knee was so bad that the surgeon said she'd have less pain in post-op with no meds than what she experienced walking around on that thing), and for Stacy Minger, a prof at Asbury (who traveled with us to London and Korea) who has been experiencing some MS-esque symptoms the past few days (very serious!).
Guess I'll do a little California dreamin'.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Live From Korea
What can I say? Two days ago I walked
I rode next to a woman coming to visit her husband who is a serviceman who works on Apache helicopters up at the DMZ. In the six years they’ve been married, after one stint in
For a number of years Beeson Pastors have been coming to
To learn about culture, today we went to the
Though its eighty years old, in 1991 Bishop Kim volunteered the church’s resources to help turn the school into a Christian institution. Now the girls go to chapel, take Bible classes, and participate in a number of clubs (dance teams, choirs, and the like) that enable worship to take place at the school. Thus, while there, we got to hear a couple of the choirs sing, and see a dance team dance (videos to come later) in the context of a worship setting. But we also toured their state-of-the-art “internet business” room, experienced traditional Korean dress and the art of bowing in the equivalent of the school’s Home Economics class room, and painted our own Korean characters (with much coaching from the girls, like this nice young lady pictured here). For lunch, they fed us (I am not making this up) Kentucky Fried Chicken (cause we came from
The things I’ll remember most about the experience at the school was how polite and mannerly all of those teenage girls were.
I mean, maybe we just got to see the good kids, but the girls were incredibly kind and respectful to a degree, which frankly, you don’t see much out of American teenagers. Makes me wonder what the hyper-individualism we champion in the United States might be costing us in the way of a more civil and cooperative society. I mean the downside of freedom is that people are free act virtually anyway they please…. even as jerks. How much better off would we be if the elderly were praised for their wisdom and experience, and young people believed that adults had information they needed to make a better future for themselves, and thus should be given attention and honor? I can tell you first hand…. it’s in many ways a lot more pleasant.
Next we went to
(and an assistant of the opposite sex) comes to your home, and leads you in your own worship service. He takes prayer requests from the person or family being visited, talks through these issues with them, takes a special offering, leads some singing, gives a sermon, answers questions about that sermon, and then wraps up the service with prayer. Then the member who is visited brings out some food (some we recognized, but much of which we didn’t) and there is a short time of fellowship.
Couple that with getting to pray for people who live halfway around the world in their living room, and saying the Lord’s Prayer in English while others prayed it in Korean, and you could not beat this experience.
We then spent an our with senior pastor Chung Sook Kim, who talked a lot about what it was like to follow his father, who pastored Kwanglim for thirty years, which was the time period the church grew into the behemoth it is today. Coupled with the challenge of following a legend (something I can sympathize with), Kim is now pastoring in a city where younger generations are rapidly becoming increasingly secularized. The influence of western culture and consumerism in this shift is unmistakable. Tonight, for example, for our first dinner in
Tomorrow we head up to the DMZ, where this trusty blogger will spend some time praying for peace, not just here on the Korean peninsula, but throughout the world. I'll try to make an update tomorrow night (or day, or whatever it is).
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Methodology
What questions to use
how to phrase them
how might they be shaped
for different interview subjects
Information I look for
in research that's done
but I don't really care
about methodology
What is the generalizability
is this information
both reliable or valid
or does its validity determine its reliability
I just want to know
how they lived through the past
so I don't really care
about methodology
What are your sources
is Wiersma all you have
better check Yow's book
on doing case studies with groups
What it was like to leave and arrive
and how the congregation handled things
is what I want to know
not methodology
But I want this to end
I want it to be over
I am going for "done"
I've had all the school I can stomach
So its off to the library
to check out Yow... Wow!
and pretend I've slaved away
on my methodology
(sigh)
I'd rather be doing this...
how to phrase them
how might they be shaped
for different interview subjects
Information I look for
in research that's done
but I don't really care
about methodology
What is the generalizability
is this information
both reliable or valid
or does its validity determine its reliability
I just want to know
how they lived through the past
so I don't really care
about methodology
What are your sources
is Wiersma all you have
better check Yow's book
on doing case studies with groups
What it was like to leave and arrive
and how the congregation handled things
is what I want to know
not methodology
But I want this to end
I want it to be over
I am going for "done"
I've had all the school I can stomach
So its off to the library
to check out Yow... Wow!
and pretend I've slaved away
on my methodology
(sigh)
I'd rather be doing this...
Monday, March 12, 2007
Six Things I'm Thinking About Right Now, Instead of the Ten Things I Think I Think
Here's what I'm thinking about right now:
1) Chapter One of my dissertation (rough draft due Thursday)
2) Chapter Two of my dissertation (also due Thursday)
3) The exegetical work for a sermon I'll be giving tomorrow in class on "Turning the Other Cheek" (which will also be given at Shawnee on Sunday)
4) A comparison paper contrasting sermons given by Ellsworth Kallas and Matthew Kelty
5) Delaying this week's "Ten Things" (or some sort of substitute) until Friday
6) My loyal readers agreeing that my staying in school is far more important than updating this blog on this particular day
I hope you agree!
Catch you this Friday!
1) Chapter One of my dissertation (rough draft due Thursday)
2) Chapter Two of my dissertation (also due Thursday)
3) The exegetical work for a sermon I'll be giving tomorrow in class on "Turning the Other Cheek" (which will also be given at Shawnee on Sunday)
4) A comparison paper contrasting sermons given by Ellsworth Kallas and Matthew Kelty
5) Delaying this week's "Ten Things" (or some sort of substitute) until Friday
6) My loyal readers agreeing that my staying in school is far more important than updating this blog on this particular day
I hope you agree!
Catch you this Friday!
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Stupid Is As Stupid Does
Couple days ago, all the BP's received a request from Jenny, the Beeson Center secretary, for a person who'd be willing to go to the airport to pick up our director, Randy Jessen, who was returning from Colorado where he'd fulfilled his duties as a member of the Board of Ordained Ministry. Randy is one of my advisers (the "Second Reader") for my dissertation, and since I'd just fired off a copy of my Chapter One, and he'd already left me a phone message that he had a few thoughts, I figured I could use the time in the car coming back from the airport to hear what he had to say (since Chapter 1 and 2 are due next Thursday). So, via email, I offered to pick him up.
Jenny responded with a thank you, gave me the name of the airline, the flight number, the time it was arriving, and that the flight would be through Cincinnati.
Cincinnati is pretty far (hour and forty minutes, give or take), but Randy's a good guy. You always learn a lot listening to him. I admire him because in stressful situations, his first inclination is to chill, while mine is to panic, so hearing how he thinks has helped me quite a bit in thinking differently. That, and my dissertation needs some help.
I emailed back... consider it done.
So yesterday evening, I go home, eat dinner (a Cajun turkey sandwich with Chicago Fire mustard), watch the Muppet Show with the kids (who are getting tons of screen time right now cause Xavie has strep throat), checked Delta.com to make sure the flight was on-time (it was) and headed out to my car at 6:15 to head up to Cinci. Including a stop by my carrel (to pick up a CD I had burned for the occasion) and the gas station, I was standing in the baggage claim area by 8:20pm.
On the way up, though, I realized I had a problem (the first of many, you'll soon discover). That day we were expecting a phone call from home, and because I had given this person my cell phone number, and my cell phone doesn't work anywhere in the Beeson Building (especially in my study carrel), I left it with my wife all day. That I did not have it, is not all that unusual. I'm kinda "out of sight, out of mind" as far as folks in Lima are concerned, so I don't receive many phone calls..... and the phone doesn't work in the place I spend most of my time, thus a good many days have gone by where I leave my phone on the charger, and go about my business.
Probably not a good habit to get into.
About the time I hit Erlanger, I realized I was phoneless. Since it was more than 2/3rds of the way to the airport from Wilmore, there wasn't much I could do, so I just put it in the back of my mind.
"What did they do before they had cell phones?" I thought. "Everything will be fine."
When I arrived at the airport, (remember it's about 8:20), I checked the arrival board, and Flight 5015, it said, had landed. Ten minutes later, it said it was the gate.
Now, if you've ever flown Delta in Cincinnati, you know that more likely than not, you'll be flying a small jet into the Comair hub, which is part of Terminal Three. To get from that Terminal to the baggage claim area you have to take a bus and a train. Throw in a quick trip to the bathroom, and it can take awhile.
8:40 - Randy's not there (no big deal)
8:50 - Randy's not there (probably just getting off the train)
9:00 - Randy's not there (must have sat at the rear of a full plane... no worries he'll be here soon
9:10 - Randy must have stopped for a cup of coffee
9:15 - Randy must have stopped for a sandwich
9:20 - I must have missed Randy, and he's waiting by the baggage carousel, so I'll check there, and outside to make sure he isn't waiting for me, AND page him.
9:30 - Randy has been eaten by marauding wolves.
Hmmmmmmm......
Now remember.... my cell phone, which has his cell phone number programmed into it, is in Wilmore. I have some money, but no change for a pay phone, and by this time, the merchants in the airport are closed. I haven't used a pay phone in twelve or thirteen years, and the calling card number (the one I used to call Aimee from seminary fifteen years ago) is long since forgotten.
I figured I had to call someone collect to get a little help. Who's number do I know? Well, I know Aimee's number. I went through the rigmaroll of dealing with an automated operator, I heard the phone ringing, silence, and the computer tells me she's denied the charges.
Great. I must have gotten her voicemail. No way she heard the phone. She's upstairs asleep, the fan is running (cause 3,457 trains go past our townhouse and everyone of them likes testing their horn between 1 and 4am, so the fan drowns them out), and her phone is charging in the kitchen.
Who else's phone number do I know?
When you have a cell phone, you don't need to remember phone numbers. You just find the name, point, and click, and ten seconds later they're on the phone. Now, I found myself realizing that I didn't know the number for my parents (they dropped their landline, and each have their own cell phone), my brother (# is in cell phone), any of my coworkers at Shawnee (#'s in cell phone), any of my friends (are you getting the picture?), or any of the Beeson Pastor families (we live in the same complex....I just go knock on their door).
And what I discovered is that the only other phone numbers I know besides my wife's are the church's (nobody there at 9:30pm), Jason Reeves (my best friend when I was a kid living in Charleston between the ages of 2 and 10 years old.. I memorized his phone number for a homework assignment we had in the first grade, and still have it up there in the ol' vault), and my grandmother's.
EUREKA!!!!
I go back to the pay phone, navigate the automated operator again, and lo and behold, my grandmother not only answers the phone, but accepts the charges.
"Grandma? Man am I glad to hear your voice. I really need a big favor. You see I forgot my cell phone, and I'm airport in Cincinnati to pick up the director of our program. I need to get ahold of his wife to see if he's OK, and if you could....... click click click click click... Hello? Hello????"
The phone is dead.
Sigh. Now I have succeeded in panicking my grandmother.
Let's check the scorecard now, shall we?
Problem #1 - No Cell Phone
Problem #2 - No Randy
Problem #3 - No calling card
Problem #4 - Worried Grandmother
I don't want to call The Great One again, cause that would just mean another collect phone call, and besides, really that plan was pretty stupid from the beginning, because (it is beginning to dawn upon me) you could probably make a call using a credit card to information and call Jessen's direct. They've probably developed that technology since 1993.
EUREKA (part 2)!!!!
I beat on the phone this time until I get a live human operator, who does in fact make the call for me using my credit card (which I expect, given the reimbursement I owe The Great One and the cost of this call have probably just devoured my pension), and I get a hold of Sue, Randy's lovely wife.
"Sue! It's Bryan Bucher. I'm here at the airport and can't find Randy anywhere. Is he OK?"
"Well," she replied, "he's a lot more better off than you. He's at the airport here in Lexington."
HUH!?!
Remember when I said that Randy's flight was THROUGH Cincinnati? That's true. It was. It landed in Cinci... and then made it's way to Lexington.
Let's go back to that email from Jenny the secretary, shall we?
Airline: Delta
Flight Number : 5015
Time: 8:31pm
From: Cincinnati
From Cincinnati... not To, but From. The place of final arrival, Lexington, wasn't ever mentioned in the email, because Jenny assumed that a doctoral student could A) read, B) put all the pieces together, C) execute something as simple as picking up someone at the airport.
Problem #5: Beeson Center Director, Randy Jessen, stranded at Lexington Airport
Problem #6: Idiot who is supposed to pick him up is discovering this one hour after Randy's landed... and he's in Cincinnati
Apparently, when he landed, upon my not being there, Randy had called my cell phone and received no answer (Aimee was upstairs getting Eli ready for bed). Then he must have called a number of the other BP's until he rousted up Trav Wilson, who went over and banged on the door of our Townhouse, where Aimee told him I was at the wrong airport and had no cell phone on me. Thus, Trav drove to Lexington to get Randy. No one was upset or angry. Everyone was understanding, and just worried about me. It's good to have loving, forgiving friends who understand that mistakes, even stupid ones, get made by us all. Everyone just wanted me to get home safely.
I asked Sue to call my grandmother (I didn't want The Great One to worry), hopped in my car, paid the parking tab (after inserting my debit card into the machine wrong about eight times... it was that kind of night), drove straight home, to find my wife there waiting up for me.
All that said, here now are all the apologizes.
Randy: Sorry to leave you stranded at the airport. I really did try to pick you up. I hope you can forgive me.
Jenny: I'm sorry I apparently don't know how to read.
The Great One: I'm sorry you incurred a $10,000 charge on your phone bill and that I wrecked your serene evening because I'm too dense to realize that in 21st century, phone companies take credit cards. I promise to pay you back (in installments), and will buy you a Kewpee so we can laugh about it when I get home.
Sue: I'm sorry for leaving your husband stranded and making you worry about my welfare, when really you should have been planning how to wring my neck. Thank you for calling The Great One.
Trav: I'm sorry you ended up getting dragged out of your warm townhouse, away from your lovely wife, to pick up a worried/probably slightly ticked off Randy Jessen. Thanks for covering my back.
Aimee: Sorry to make you think in the moment after our phones both ring, and a knock at our front door that I was dead. I'm sorry that when I got home I was in a less than joyful mood.
To The Owner of the Payphones In The Baggage Claim Area of the Northern Kentucky/Greater Cincinnati International Airport: Sorry for the wear and tear on the receiver from when I beat myself in the head out of frustration.
To My Congregation: Better bring your Bible with you to worship... you never know what I might have missed.
To You, The Reader: I'm sorry you wasted the last five minutes reading this... but I hope it gave you a laugh.
Forrest was right.... stupid really is, as stupid does.
Jenny responded with a thank you, gave me the name of the airline, the flight number, the time it was arriving, and that the flight would be through Cincinnati.
Cincinnati is pretty far (hour and forty minutes, give or take), but Randy's a good guy. You always learn a lot listening to him. I admire him because in stressful situations, his first inclination is to chill, while mine is to panic, so hearing how he thinks has helped me quite a bit in thinking differently. That, and my dissertation needs some help.
I emailed back... consider it done.
So yesterday evening, I go home, eat dinner (a Cajun turkey sandwich with Chicago Fire mustard), watch the Muppet Show with the kids (who are getting tons of screen time right now cause Xavie has strep throat), checked Delta.com to make sure the flight was on-time (it was) and headed out to my car at 6:15 to head up to Cinci. Including a stop by my carrel (to pick up a CD I had burned for the occasion) and the gas station, I was standing in the baggage claim area by 8:20pm.
On the way up, though, I realized I had a problem (the first of many, you'll soon discover). That day we were expecting a phone call from home, and because I had given this person my cell phone number, and my cell phone doesn't work anywhere in the Beeson Building (especially in my study carrel), I left it with my wife all day. That I did not have it, is not all that unusual. I'm kinda "out of sight, out of mind" as far as folks in Lima are concerned, so I don't receive many phone calls..... and the phone doesn't work in the place I spend most of my time, thus a good many days have gone by where I leave my phone on the charger, and go about my business.
Probably not a good habit to get into.
About the time I hit Erlanger, I realized I was phoneless. Since it was more than 2/3rds of the way to the airport from Wilmore, there wasn't much I could do, so I just put it in the back of my mind.
"What did they do before they had cell phones?" I thought. "Everything will be fine."
When I arrived at the airport, (remember it's about 8:20), I checked the arrival board, and Flight 5015, it said, had landed. Ten minutes later, it said it was the gate.
Now, if you've ever flown Delta in Cincinnati, you know that more likely than not, you'll be flying a small jet into the Comair hub, which is part of Terminal Three. To get from that Terminal to the baggage claim area you have to take a bus and a train. Throw in a quick trip to the bathroom, and it can take awhile.
8:40 - Randy's not there (no big deal)
8:50 - Randy's not there (probably just getting off the train)
9:00 - Randy's not there (must have sat at the rear of a full plane... no worries he'll be here soon
9:10 - Randy must have stopped for a cup of coffee
9:15 - Randy must have stopped for a sandwich
9:20 - I must have missed Randy, and he's waiting by the baggage carousel, so I'll check there, and outside to make sure he isn't waiting for me, AND page him.
9:30 - Randy has been eaten by marauding wolves.
Hmmmmmmm......
Now remember.... my cell phone, which has his cell phone number programmed into it, is in Wilmore. I have some money, but no change for a pay phone, and by this time, the merchants in the airport are closed. I haven't used a pay phone in twelve or thirteen years, and the calling card number (the one I used to call Aimee from seminary fifteen years ago) is long since forgotten.
I figured I had to call someone collect to get a little help. Who's number do I know? Well, I know Aimee's number. I went through the rigmaroll of dealing with an automated operator, I heard the phone ringing, silence, and the computer tells me she's denied the charges.
Great. I must have gotten her voicemail. No way she heard the phone. She's upstairs asleep, the fan is running (cause 3,457 trains go past our townhouse and everyone of them likes testing their horn between 1 and 4am, so the fan drowns them out), and her phone is charging in the kitchen.
Who else's phone number do I know?
When you have a cell phone, you don't need to remember phone numbers. You just find the name, point, and click, and ten seconds later they're on the phone. Now, I found myself realizing that I didn't know the number for my parents (they dropped their landline, and each have their own cell phone), my brother (# is in cell phone), any of my coworkers at Shawnee (#'s in cell phone), any of my friends (are you getting the picture?), or any of the Beeson Pastor families (we live in the same complex....I just go knock on their door).
And what I discovered is that the only other phone numbers I know besides my wife's are the church's (nobody there at 9:30pm), Jason Reeves (my best friend when I was a kid living in Charleston between the ages of 2 and 10 years old.. I memorized his phone number for a homework assignment we had in the first grade, and still have it up there in the ol' vault), and my grandmother's.
EUREKA!!!!
I go back to the pay phone, navigate the automated operator again, and lo and behold, my grandmother not only answers the phone, but accepts the charges.
"Grandma? Man am I glad to hear your voice. I really need a big favor. You see I forgot my cell phone, and I'm airport in Cincinnati to pick up the director of our program. I need to get ahold of his wife to see if he's OK, and if you could....... click click click click click... Hello? Hello????"
The phone is dead.
Sigh. Now I have succeeded in panicking my grandmother.
Let's check the scorecard now, shall we?
Problem #1 - No Cell Phone
Problem #2 - No Randy
Problem #3 - No calling card
Problem #4 - Worried Grandmother
I don't want to call The Great One again, cause that would just mean another collect phone call, and besides, really that plan was pretty stupid from the beginning, because (it is beginning to dawn upon me) you could probably make a call using a credit card to information and call Jessen's direct. They've probably developed that technology since 1993.
EUREKA (part 2)!!!!
I beat on the phone this time until I get a live human operator, who does in fact make the call for me using my credit card (which I expect, given the reimbursement I owe The Great One and the cost of this call have probably just devoured my pension), and I get a hold of Sue, Randy's lovely wife.
"Sue! It's Bryan Bucher. I'm here at the airport and can't find Randy anywhere. Is he OK?"
"Well," she replied, "he's a lot more better off than you. He's at the airport here in Lexington."
HUH!?!
Remember when I said that Randy's flight was THROUGH Cincinnati? That's true. It was. It landed in Cinci... and then made it's way to Lexington.
Let's go back to that email from Jenny the secretary, shall we?
Airline: Delta
Flight Number : 5015
Time: 8:31pm
From: Cincinnati
From Cincinnati... not To, but From. The place of final arrival, Lexington, wasn't ever mentioned in the email, because Jenny assumed that a doctoral student could A) read, B) put all the pieces together, C) execute something as simple as picking up someone at the airport.
Problem #5: Beeson Center Director, Randy Jessen, stranded at Lexington Airport
Problem #6: Idiot who is supposed to pick him up is discovering this one hour after Randy's landed... and he's in Cincinnati
Apparently, when he landed, upon my not being there, Randy had called my cell phone and received no answer (Aimee was upstairs getting Eli ready for bed). Then he must have called a number of the other BP's until he rousted up Trav Wilson, who went over and banged on the door of our Townhouse, where Aimee told him I was at the wrong airport and had no cell phone on me. Thus, Trav drove to Lexington to get Randy. No one was upset or angry. Everyone was understanding, and just worried about me. It's good to have loving, forgiving friends who understand that mistakes, even stupid ones, get made by us all. Everyone just wanted me to get home safely.
I asked Sue to call my grandmother (I didn't want The Great One to worry), hopped in my car, paid the parking tab (after inserting my debit card into the machine wrong about eight times... it was that kind of night), drove straight home, to find my wife there waiting up for me.
All that said, here now are all the apologizes.
Randy: Sorry to leave you stranded at the airport. I really did try to pick you up. I hope you can forgive me.
Jenny: I'm sorry I apparently don't know how to read.
The Great One: I'm sorry you incurred a $10,000 charge on your phone bill and that I wrecked your serene evening because I'm too dense to realize that in 21st century, phone companies take credit cards. I promise to pay you back (in installments), and will buy you a Kewpee so we can laugh about it when I get home.
Sue: I'm sorry for leaving your husband stranded and making you worry about my welfare, when really you should have been planning how to wring my neck. Thank you for calling The Great One.
Trav: I'm sorry you ended up getting dragged out of your warm townhouse, away from your lovely wife, to pick up a worried/probably slightly ticked off Randy Jessen. Thanks for covering my back.
Aimee: Sorry to make you think in the moment after our phones both ring, and a knock at our front door that I was dead. I'm sorry that when I got home I was in a less than joyful mood.
To The Owner of the Payphones In The Baggage Claim Area of the Northern Kentucky/Greater Cincinnati International Airport: Sorry for the wear and tear on the receiver from when I beat myself in the head out of frustration.
To My Congregation: Better bring your Bible with you to worship... you never know what I might have missed.
To You, The Reader: I'm sorry you wasted the last five minutes reading this... but I hope it gave you a laugh.
Forrest was right.... stupid really is, as stupid does.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Brain. Me. What. Fried. Mine. Now. Gift. God. Give. To.
The rubber is hitting the road. My back is against the wall. I am between a rock and a hard place. This is the last train to Clarksville. In the immortal words of Dorothy, we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto and as Billy Joel sang in the 80's, "PRESSURE!"
Two weeks away from two chapters of the dissertation needing to be completed, and in the meantime I need write (and give) a sermon (including an exegesis) and write two more papers for my homiletics class, visit a church in LA, and another in Tucson. I also need to work out the basic methodology for my research.... but hey, let's not get ahead of ourselves. There's just way too much work, and not enough brain to around right now.
Between thinking about following a sixteen year ministry vet with an impeccable track record, how a preacher has to tie together logos/ethos/pathos all in the name of what's just, what it means for the meek to inherit the earth, and the generalizability of my dissertation study...
it occurs to me that I have a life. Wife. Kids. Family. Friends. God to Serve. All that, and more.
In many ways my life has put almost entirely on hold this year while we live out this gift of a year to do nothing but think about what churches should look like and how they run. But life can't be put on hold. It just keeps passing you by, so I can't think about what I've missed while my head was stuck in a book. There are just too many moments that were lost.
Well, that and probably watching a few Cavs games on TV.
And, of course, there have been moments I would have never had if we hadn't done this. Sandy Millar asking me to pray in tongues. Kirby Jon Caldwell calling me his "homeboy". Watching Brian McLaren get a tear in his eye when he realized in our conversation that it had been one year, to the day, he had left his pulpit at the church he founded to be a post-modern troubadour. Touching a wall that had been laid by Roman stone masons more than 1600 years ago. Getting corrected on-line by Chris Seay. It's been a long, strange, amazing trip.
And in the end, what will it all mean?
We joke around here in the Beeson Carrels that if the verse "to much is given, much is expected" is really true then God is going to want his $56,000 investment back in spades. We hear horror stories of Beeson Pastors who go back filled with dreams, only to see them get crushed and we hear all about success stories too. One of my fellow BP's here is heading to a large American city to interview with a former Beeson Pastor and the lay-leadership of his church (which he founded, and now worships thousands) about planting a daughter church. Busts where we become so stressed and overloaded we almost die of a stroke, or planting daughter churches... it could go either way.
For all the pressure I feel (scholastic work, professional expectations, personal obligations), the life I'm missing, and the life I'm unexpectedly getting to experience, I am in the midst of this whirlwind, at peace. A man who is finding clarity. I feel like someone who was cast into a lion's den about five years ago, who is now about to get out at the same time he realizes that the Lord isn't going to let the lions devour him. Oh, they might get up, stretch, sniff him over occasion, see how he tastes, and bare their teeth every so often, but on the other side of door separating captivity and freedom, the king whispering,
"OK. I don't think too much can scare him any more. I think he knows He's real now. Let him out."
And I don't mean that in the sense of my professional life, either. I mean, I love being a pastor and I'm blessed that it's the way I pay my bills, but I have stared in the face of hungry lions and realized that they don't scare me nearly as much as my not living out this life God has called me to. A life of a loud-mouthed but teachable servant who would be looking to fulfill what he was to do in the Kingdom if he managed a Dairy Queen, asked people to stick out their tongue and say "ah", or drained jumpers in the corner so LeBron could win his ring this year. A life spent trying to get people to do the right thing, the right way, whether that be send flowers to a grieving co-worker or send a child to school in the Sudan. I mean, if meaning in life comes truly out of a person sacrificing himself for the good of his brothers and sisters, well, I'm ready to give myself away.
If it means someday going to Haiti to go serve poor people, I'll go.
If it means sitting with a man who's made stupid choices in the throws of a midlife crisis, I'll sit.
If it means finding out what it means to raise a family and love your neighbor on minimum wage, then I'll go looking.
If it means praying for the lady at the cash register who just lost her dog that day... then I'll pray.
If it means street preaching in an orange vest when I am old and somewhat deranged.... well, I always did look good in orange.
I just want to feel like when God looks at me, he thinks "Oh yeah... I can send that guy. That crazy nutbucket... he'll go. Just wait til you see the look on his face next time he prays. Watch this...."
Run an orphanage in Zimbabwe for children with AIDS... Lord are you nuts?
Honey, you'll never believe what he have to do next...
I want to raise my hands in praise if he asks. I want to keep them down by my side if it will make the new anesthesiologist in the back of the room, who was dragged to church by his wife that day, feel better. I want to pray when the Spirit says pray, and I want sing when the Spirit says
sing.
I just want to be used. I wanna be a tool. A handy little rubber mallet in the Lord's toolbox.
For it's not my life I've missed, or experienced. It's not mine. It is a gift. A gift we are invited to give back.
Here you go Lord.... whaddya want to do?
Two weeks away from two chapters of the dissertation needing to be completed, and in the meantime I need write (and give) a sermon (including an exegesis) and write two more papers for my homiletics class, visit a church in LA, and another in Tucson. I also need to work out the basic methodology for my research.... but hey, let's not get ahead of ourselves. There's just way too much work, and not enough brain to around right now.
Between thinking about following a sixteen year ministry vet with an impeccable track record, how a preacher has to tie together logos/ethos/pathos all in the name of what's just, what it means for the meek to inherit the earth, and the generalizability of my dissertation study...
it occurs to me that I have a life. Wife. Kids. Family. Friends. God to Serve. All that, and more.
In many ways my life has put almost entirely on hold this year while we live out this gift of a year to do nothing but think about what churches should look like and how they run. But life can't be put on hold. It just keeps passing you by, so I can't think about what I've missed while my head was stuck in a book. There are just too many moments that were lost.
Well, that and probably watching a few Cavs games on TV.
And, of course, there have been moments I would have never had if we hadn't done this. Sandy Millar asking me to pray in tongues. Kirby Jon Caldwell calling me his "homeboy". Watching Brian McLaren get a tear in his eye when he realized in our conversation that it had been one year, to the day, he had left his pulpit at the church he founded to be a post-modern troubadour. Touching a wall that had been laid by Roman stone masons more than 1600 years ago. Getting corrected on-line by Chris Seay. It's been a long, strange, amazing trip.
And in the end, what will it all mean?
We joke around here in the Beeson Carrels that if the verse "to much is given, much is expected" is really true then God is going to want his $56,000 investment back in spades. We hear horror stories of Beeson Pastors who go back filled with dreams, only to see them get crushed and we hear all about success stories too. One of my fellow BP's here is heading to a large American city to interview with a former Beeson Pastor and the lay-leadership of his church (which he founded, and now worships thousands) about planting a daughter church. Busts where we become so stressed and overloaded we almost die of a stroke, or planting daughter churches... it could go either way.
For all the pressure I feel (scholastic work, professional expectations, personal obligations), the life I'm missing, and the life I'm unexpectedly getting to experience, I am in the midst of this whirlwind, at peace. A man who is finding clarity. I feel like someone who was cast into a lion's den about five years ago, who is now about to get out at the same time he realizes that the Lord isn't going to let the lions devour him. Oh, they might get up, stretch, sniff him over occasion, see how he tastes, and bare their teeth every so often, but on the other side of door separating captivity and freedom, the king whispering,
"OK. I don't think too much can scare him any more. I think he knows He's real now. Let him out."
And I don't mean that in the sense of my professional life, either. I mean, I love being a pastor and I'm blessed that it's the way I pay my bills, but I have stared in the face of hungry lions and realized that they don't scare me nearly as much as my not living out this life God has called me to. A life of a loud-mouthed but teachable servant who would be looking to fulfill what he was to do in the Kingdom if he managed a Dairy Queen, asked people to stick out their tongue and say "ah", or drained jumpers in the corner so LeBron could win his ring this year. A life spent trying to get people to do the right thing, the right way, whether that be send flowers to a grieving co-worker or send a child to school in the Sudan. I mean, if meaning in life comes truly out of a person sacrificing himself for the good of his brothers and sisters, well, I'm ready to give myself away.
If it means someday going to Haiti to go serve poor people, I'll go.
If it means sitting with a man who's made stupid choices in the throws of a midlife crisis, I'll sit.
If it means finding out what it means to raise a family and love your neighbor on minimum wage, then I'll go looking.
If it means praying for the lady at the cash register who just lost her dog that day... then I'll pray.
If it means street preaching in an orange vest when I am old and somewhat deranged.... well, I always did look good in orange.
I just want to feel like when God looks at me, he thinks "Oh yeah... I can send that guy. That crazy nutbucket... he'll go. Just wait til you see the look on his face next time he prays. Watch this...."
Run an orphanage in Zimbabwe for children with AIDS... Lord are you nuts?
Honey, you'll never believe what he have to do next...
I want to raise my hands in praise if he asks. I want to keep them down by my side if it will make the new anesthesiologist in the back of the room, who was dragged to church by his wife that day, feel better. I want to pray when the Spirit says pray, and I want sing when the Spirit says
sing.
I just want to be used. I wanna be a tool. A handy little rubber mallet in the Lord's toolbox.
For it's not my life I've missed, or experienced. It's not mine. It is a gift. A gift we are invited to give back.
Here you go Lord.... whaddya want to do?
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Aaron Wymer is a Cinematic Genius
Below is a "going away" video for Jack Connell, the outgoing Assistant Director of the Beeson Center. Jack is taking a new job as the Vice-President of Church Relations at Houghton College. Jack moved down here from Rochester, New York not too long before all of us did, and since he wasn't able to sell his house in New York, his family lived in the townhouses with the rest of us. Their family became a treasured part of our community, and will be greatly missed.
Which explains this "going away video" from Aaron Wymer. Two things before you watch it: One, the train you hear is about a stone's throw away from our townhomes, and two, you gotta like someone a lot to make this video. It brought a tear to my eye.
Did I mention that tear was from laughter? Good luck, Connell family. We'll miss you all.
Which explains this "going away video" from Aaron Wymer. Two things before you watch it: One, the train you hear is about a stone's throw away from our townhomes, and two, you gotta like someone a lot to make this video. It brought a tear to my eye.
Did I mention that tear was from laughter? Good luck, Connell family. We'll miss you all.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
10 Reason Jack Connell's Class Was The Most Important One We've Taken This Year
We just finished about half of our "Organizational Leadership for the Local Church" with Jack Connell, the current and (unfortunately) outgoing Associate Dean of the Beeson Center. Jack, who is heading off to become a Vice-President of Something Really Important at Houghton College, just recently finished an 11 year stint at as the Senior Pastor of Crosswinds Wesleyan Church in Rochester, New York, where the church grew from about 200 to over 1500 in worship. The entire class dealt with nuts and bolts ministry stuff: budgets, strategy, program, staff hires, and the like. Here are ten reasons I think it was the most important class we've taken this year.
1) It was important because of "when" we took it. Instead of placing it early in our schedule, it is essentially the last class we're taking (although we'll continue the year-long preaching class until its merciful end in May). What this means is that largely we've been taking a lot of classes stating how things ought to be, and we concluded the year with five days rooted in reality. You can talk or even go see the ideal church a million times over, but the fact of the matter is there are a lot of very basic, important, and necessary things that must happen if the church as we know it (more on that later) is to move anywhere in the direction of ideal. Thus, whatever dreams we might have had, came crashing down back to earth the last three days (we do two more days of class in April), which helped us get a foot outside the "ivory tower".
2) Jack is not a jerk. Why bring this up? Well, quite frankly, most (all?) guys I've met who grew churches as fast and successfully as Jack, ended up being jerks. Admittedly, that I'd say this might actually reveal more about me, than them. What kind of jealousy or angst might be coming out as I assess successful pastors as jerks.... it's probably not good. But then again, I've met more than a few jerks, and I was beginning to think believe becoming a jerk was a requirement for growing a huge church. It's good to know that good guys grow big churches, and it's good know what dark side might lurk inside of me given my perception of those pastors who could be deemed as "successful".
Note: Most people reading this right now don't know how much this point changed since I wrote the first time earlier today. Wrestling with this idea has been an exercise in personal growth.
3) One of the things I'm discovering is that when it comes to the conventional church, there isn't too much theory about how to do it out there that I don't know. I'm aware of how that sounds... but let me remind you that there is a difference between knowing all about something, and being able to do it. That's what keeps me humble. I "know", but I have not (for the most part) ever "done". But all the basics about funding, budgeting, visioning, strategic planning, staffing, leadership development, and the like I have all heard, thanks to three mentors who forced me to read, observe, and thinking about all these issues.
I have the model of Joseph's earliest years at Shawnee to get a sense of how to get a vision-less congregation excited about the future. I have the model of Barry DeShetler who is still the best schmoozer and systems pastor I've ever seen (for all the angst I had about my time at Toledo Epworth, I have to admit that Barry had that place running like a watch, and no one was better on a golf course or a restaurant with church members. Considering his track record at Kettering Christ UMC, which went from "troubled" to averaging over a 1000 people a Sunday over the last seven or eight years, you gotta admire Barry's ability to streamline and systematize). I also have the entrepreneurial/evangelistic example of the late Dick Lyndon, who through his work in multi-site ministry and helping people learn how to serve people, has helped revolutionize the church (literally.... you can't measure this guy's impact). It because of them I spent time listening to or reading, Kennon Callahan, George Barna, Herb Miller, Craig Groeschel, Mike Slaughter, Bill Hybles, Andy Stanley, Ken Millard, Eugene Peterson, Henri Nouwen, James Cone, Reggie McNeal, Rob Bell Jr., Brian McLaren, John Maxwell, Wayne Cordeiro, Dallas Willard, Richard Foster, Dave Ferguson, Lyle Schaller, Clyde Williams, John Ed Matheson, Bill Hinson, John Domenic Crossan, Marcus Borg, Ben Witherington, N.T. Wright, Rick Warren, Mark Beeson, and a host of others that have forced me to think about the practice of church.
Now, it's just about putting theory into practice... which is the hardest thing to do.
4) Kent Reynolds was in the class. Kent has served in little, dying UM churches, big hopping UM churches, and everything in between. He's been through heart ache, personal transformation, times of great celebration, and moments where just about every important decision that had to be made, was. Now, in is early fifties, he's in this program not as much to learn how to do church, but to figure out how he wants to spend the rest of his life making the maximum impact he can for the Kingdom of God. To have him as a friend and resource, is quite frankly, a huge "plus" for us as a class... and that was never more true than this week. Between he and Jack, we profited from a huge wealth of knowledge.
5) Jack kept the class moving, but was willing to slow down and take questions and promote dialogue, which happened more than in any other class we've taken to date. Sometimes the questions asked were pointed, and other times they were pointless, but he addressed them all. When he didn't have an answer, put it out there for discussion so we could pool our ignorance, and maybe ask even better questions. He handled this bizarre format of intense class work in very short periods better than any other prof this past year.
6) Jack was real. He talked about his mistakes, and not in an aggrandizing way (like John Maxwell does.... that dude can make the biggest flop he ever made sound like the most inspirational kingdom story you've ever heard, in the end make himself look even bigger-than-life than he did before). I never got the sense that in the eleven years his church went from a sleepy little suburban chapel, to something that was really kicking, he ever thought he had it all figured out. Instead, he just went with the best advice or information he had, and took the next step after the one already taken. Thus, he adjusted on the fly, and kept moving forward, in a very practical way. That he was willing to discuss where he believed he fell short was important in understanding the importance of recovering from mistakes. Good stuff.
7) Jack never tells you how to do it. He tells you how he did it, but not how to do it. Maybe that's because the way he did it was to collectively work with the church body at large, and navigate with them where to go next. His is an egalitarian model that doesn't discount the need for someone to say, "Hey, let's think about this" or "OK, enough talking let's keep it moving" or approach the congregation at-large about things that may not be all that pleasant but necessary. Since this is his approach, the message I received was that developing a vision for a church is as much about listening as it is anything else. Listening to church members, lay-leaders, staff members, other pastors, the best of whatever is out there in fields applicable to our situation, and most especially, the Lord, and then making some decisions that will impact the future. To listen, and act, and not spend too much or little time doing either... that's what I got from Jack this week.
8) We talked about money. I mean, let's face it, cash is the elephant in the room in virtually every church. Asking for it, spending it, accounting for it, borrowing it, paying it off, allocating it.... it is always a major issue. Jack, I thought, addressed the issue of money head on, with no flinching, and gave us the forum to voice whatever it was we had been thinking about fiscal management. He helped us understand where it might be wise for us to re-think some of our pre-conceived perceptions, and affirmed us when we seemed to be on the right track. Capital campaigns, stewardship campaigns, mortgages, tithing, preaching and money, people who think all preachers want is to get rich... nothing was off limits.
9) Jack didn't pretend to know what might be "next" in terms of the future of the church. Now don't get me wrong... I've got great respect for people that are experimenting with new forms of church and shared Christian life. House churches, virtual churches, emergent churches, etc... I've a sense that a revolution in how people live out their lives as Christians is taking place right now (although, to be honest, I wonder if in some of these ways we're simply seeing the end-point of an individualistic ethos that wants no accountability to anyone), and some people are going to be on the cutting edge of that revolution.
But as for me, I'm too far gone as far as identifying myself with modern, institutional church to really do anything else very well. If I tried, for example, to plant a "house church", everything I would do would be in relation to my own mainline denominational church experience, as opposed to thinking about things, fresh and new. That's why when I read young seminary students blog postings (like Shannon, a former intern of mine, now at Union Theological Seminary in the Big Apple) or on bulletin-board services (like the one here at Asbury) express a desire for something more as far as church life, and their role in it, I read their words somewhat wistfully (and chuckle a little at the idealism) knowing that this will not be my lot.
I'm an ordained Elder in the United Methodist Church... that's the way God raised me up as a Christian leader, and with what little time I have left (20-25 years... maybe?) that's where I'll be.
Thus, for all the theoretical talk about the "attractional church" versus the "missional church" we've done this year, and the need for post-modern forms of worship and praxis, we focused on our reality as pastors who will serve in congregational settings shaped by modernity, filled with moderns and post-moderns, and attractional in nature. Jack taught and led discussion about the kind of church most of us are going to serve for the remainder of our careers as institutions that aren't necessary evils (like some of the authors and profs we've encountered this year), but as places vital to the unfolding of the Kingdom of Heaven.
10) And finally, I think the class was important because it got me thinking in systematic ways about what I want to do when I get back to Shawnee this spring. Not just NOT messing up this leadership transition, but thinking about areas of ministry that need some goal setting and futuristic thinking. I realized, maybe again, that I will make mistakes. I will say or do the wrong things, and yet we must keep moving forward as a community of faith as best as we can. I thought about the future of the Haiti ministry and of Harvest, the creative ways we might "attract" some folks in the community into our family, and what kind of staff hires this might eventually take to make this happen. I thought about the role of lay-leadership, the need for collective discussion. I made mental notes of some people I need to visit when I return, and begin praying for people who will help us manifest God's calling for our church who aren't yet with us or might just be sitting quietly in the seat or pew.
I'll need to do a lot of listening.
It got me excited about coming back, getting to work, and spending whatever time I've left to help people find themselves in Christ.
All in all.... it was a great class. I couldn't have asked for more.
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