Once upon a time getting dressed for church on Sunday was easy. I got up, put on a white shirt, knotted a tie (I did go wild there, often having ties with pictures of quail or snowmen on them instead of the traditional stripes), put on a suit and drove to church. There I took off the coat and put on my robe and stole. It was as easy as that, no thought involved at all and I was always properly attired.
Even though I resented an experience I had during my first appointment, I realized I wasn't that far removed from it. Let me describe that experience.
I had just graduated from seminary, received my first appointment, and was invited to have tea at the apartment of a retired minister who served in that church. During the visit he told me to come into his bedroom and he would show me what the closet of a Methodist minister should look like. (once again seminary had failed me; not one class or lecture on proper ministerial dress!) He opened the door to his closet and there were seven dark blue or black suits hanging on the rack. Next to them were seven long sleeve white dress shirts. Draped over a hanger were several red, blue and striped ties. On the floor were two pairs of highly polished black wing tip shoes. "That is what a preacher's closet should look like!" he solemnly informed me.
Now I never followed that theology of sartorical propriaty. In fact a few weeks later he wanted to have me excommunicated. The senior pastor was on vacation and I preached my first sermon in that congregation. At the end of the message the retired minister informed me that I had disgraced the ministry! I thought it was a pretty good sermon and was extremely disappointed. He then informed me that I had...shock of all Satanic shocks....worn brown shoes into the pulpit!!!! I almost never regret that choice.
Looking back I realized that while I wasn't in that school, I was not very far off. I still wore a tie and a robe and looked like a preacher. (Not the green leisure suit of TV evangelists, thank God.)
Now I look back and in many ways long for the security of those easy days! I awaken now and have not a clue what to wear. If I put on jeans I am told that my tire shop is open, you know, your belly has Dunloped over your belt. If I wear slacks and a dress shirt, then I am out of touch with the vast majority of the congregation. If I wear chino's and a polo shirt, I am uncomfortable. Who would have ever known that in seminary I should have taken classes in chic?
I am told that I just need to wear what makes me feel comfortable. That doesn't help at all. The only clothes I really feel comfortable in are my hunting and fishing clothes, you know those things you wear when only your very best friends will see you. Somehow those don't seem appropriate for leading worship.
Or are they? Do I really believe that God is impressed by what I wear? Am I really so tied to the thinking of my Grandma, who was taught you only wear your very best before God? What do I really believe?
I wish I could tell you that I have an answer to post on the blog. Oh, how I wish I could tell you that. But the truth is that while I love the freedom of preaching without pulpit and the freedom of telling God's story in wild and new ways; I still am extremely uncomfortable with how in the world I should dress. Perhaps I am just still recovering from wearing an Axel Rose costume on stage a few weeks ago!
It is easy for me to feel comfortable with people in shorts and tank tops sitting in the congregation. I have no problem with our several Goth couples in the audience. The motorcycle for Jesus folks with all their leathers and tattoos are great. In fact, when someone comes in with a tie on we know they are lost! None of that bothers me. But I agonize over what I should wear.
Who would have ever imagined that of all the changes I've made these past two years, the biggest, most difficult, most enduring problem I face is what to wear on Sunday?
Anyone out there got any suggestions?
God's best,
Bill
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Ellie, TV star
One of the major changes that I have endured in the change from a traditional worship pastor to the leader of a "Modern," "Contemporary," "Theatrical," "Experiencial," or whatever the heck style of worship we now offer has been the lies told at the end of the service. In traditional worship the service ends with the minister standing in the doorway listening to some whoppers that would make the most fanatical fisherman proud. Things like; "Preacher you really inspired me this morning with your words," this from the man who you saw clearly from the pulpit snoring throughout the message!" Or; "I have never heard a more impressive sermon!" from a man you know never darkened the doors of a church before. While a part of my mind always knew that these comments and compliments were bogus or at best only well intentioned. They still fueled my ego and during bad weeks (when the offerings were down or the complaints were up) they kept me going.
In my current church I am in the midst of a record setting run. For the past six weeks no one has commented on my sermon at all. At the end of the service everyone dashes out the back doors of the worship center to see if there are still any donuts and coffee left while I am left standing in front of the stage looking at their backs. It's not that the parishioners don't enjoy what I say and the production that surrounds it; it is just that they have no history of building up preachers with false praise so they just go on their way. On a really good day they might discuss the service over latte's at Starbucks.
I have adapted to this reality. I have determined that I can live with my own evaluations of the message and service. I know when things have gone well or not. I still suspect God knows also. I have learned that when the staff doesn't criticize my delivery or some point that might offend "seekers" like when I refer to the closing hymn and not one soul in the place knows what I am talking about, then things have gone well. I have been rather proud of this growth of my internal strength.
Then my dog ruined everything!
Last week we taped a new devotional for our weekly television program. In this episode I put on my quail hunting gear and took my 9 year old German Shorthaired Pointer, Ellie, out to do the shoot. In the taping I sat on the tailgate of my truck (a Honda Ridgeline, after all I'd love to have a sponsor!!) with Ellie sitting beside me.
I introduced her to the audience and talked about how she loves to hunt and that she is never prouder or more happy than when she is hunting because then she is doing what God created her to do. My point was that we all need to discover what God created us to do.
We finished taping and I went back to the office. And the hurting began. A couple of the staff were wowed by Ellie. They begged to go outside and meet her. They talked about how cute she was and how well she had carried out her role in the production. (Now just how difficult can it be to sit on a tailgate and look loveable?) They raved over her.
That would have been bad enough but it didn't stop with the staff. Two members had driven by and seen us out doing the taping. They too wanted to meet Ellie. They too raved.
On Sunday morning five more people who had been told by the staff or the formerly mentioned members (I didn't have the courage to ask who had talked) wanted to tell me how pretty and well behaved they heard Ellie was. She was and is a heroine. People who can't talk to me to compliment my hours and hours of work on a sermon, come dashing up to brag on my dog!
Such is the life of a contemporary preacher. My dog has more star power than me!
I know humility is seen as a wonderful goal, but does God have to rub my nose in it?
The adventure continues.
God's best,
Bill
In my current church I am in the midst of a record setting run. For the past six weeks no one has commented on my sermon at all. At the end of the service everyone dashes out the back doors of the worship center to see if there are still any donuts and coffee left while I am left standing in front of the stage looking at their backs. It's not that the parishioners don't enjoy what I say and the production that surrounds it; it is just that they have no history of building up preachers with false praise so they just go on their way. On a really good day they might discuss the service over latte's at Starbucks.
I have adapted to this reality. I have determined that I can live with my own evaluations of the message and service. I know when things have gone well or not. I still suspect God knows also. I have learned that when the staff doesn't criticize my delivery or some point that might offend "seekers" like when I refer to the closing hymn and not one soul in the place knows what I am talking about, then things have gone well. I have been rather proud of this growth of my internal strength.
Then my dog ruined everything!
Last week we taped a new devotional for our weekly television program. In this episode I put on my quail hunting gear and took my 9 year old German Shorthaired Pointer, Ellie, out to do the shoot. In the taping I sat on the tailgate of my truck (a Honda Ridgeline, after all I'd love to have a sponsor!!) with Ellie sitting beside me.
I introduced her to the audience and talked about how she loves to hunt and that she is never prouder or more happy than when she is hunting because then she is doing what God created her to do. My point was that we all need to discover what God created us to do.
We finished taping and I went back to the office. And the hurting began. A couple of the staff were wowed by Ellie. They begged to go outside and meet her. They talked about how cute she was and how well she had carried out her role in the production. (Now just how difficult can it be to sit on a tailgate and look loveable?) They raved over her.
That would have been bad enough but it didn't stop with the staff. Two members had driven by and seen us out doing the taping. They too wanted to meet Ellie. They too raved.
On Sunday morning five more people who had been told by the staff or the formerly mentioned members (I didn't have the courage to ask who had talked) wanted to tell me how pretty and well behaved they heard Ellie was. She was and is a heroine. People who can't talk to me to compliment my hours and hours of work on a sermon, come dashing up to brag on my dog!
Such is the life of a contemporary preacher. My dog has more star power than me!
I know humility is seen as a wonderful goal, but does God have to rub my nose in it?
The adventure continues.
God's best,
Bill
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Coors Light Says It All
Several weeks ago I realized how far God had led me outside of my comfort zone. Like Abram I was being asked to leave everything I had cherished and believed behind. Standing on our worship stage with a cigarrette (unlit, thank God!) dangling from my mouth and holding a six pack of Coors Light beer in my hands, I was trying to preach God's word. Who could have imagined. (I have great faith that the Bishop is not into blogging so this won't get on his desk anytime soon!)
The topic of the day in worship was "being responsible" and I was attempting to make the point that Christ followers are called to use not only good judgement, but also Christ's perspective in all our actions and that we suffer when we do not behave in this way. I was discussing a term I had run across on the internet, "freshman heaven." Freshman heaven is what happens when an 18 year old boy stands in his dorm room and watches his parents drive away and shouts to the world, "Free at last!!! Thank God I am free at last!" That freedom often leads him to the picture I was displaying of the cigarrette smoking beer drinking, free wheeling life that includes trying everything except class. I ended the point by declaring that as wonderful as "freshman heaven" can be; there is no such thing as "sophmore heaven!" People who forget responsibility and good judgement aren't around their sophomore years.
At the end of the sermon we then auctioned off the six pack of beer to the highest bidder in the congregation. It came with a certificate of authenticity that it had actually been used as a sermon illustration and appeared on the worship stage!! It brought in $185 for the mission fund!
As wild and uncomfortable as that scene was, the one that preceded it on Saturday was even more bizarre.
Saturday afternoon I finally determined that I would in fact do the illustration mentioned above. Then I realized I had a problem. I didn't have any cigarrettes or any beer. What to do?
Bravely I drove into a local quick stop store just down from the church and went in on a mission to rectify the situation. I wandered back to the beer section and began a search for the cheapest beer in the store. While I was sold on the idea of the illustration, I was going to put the point of the message, good judgement and responsibility to work. It took a while to determine that in that store, a six pack of Coors Light in bottles met the ticket. Then I had to go to the counter to order cigarrettes.
I put the beer on the counter and told the lady working there that I wanted the cheapest pack of cigarrettes they had. Without blinking an eye she asked, "Filters or non?" I explained that I didn't care, I just wanted the cheapest pack they sold. That got her attention. "Don't you care what you smoke?" she inquired. "Nope, just the cheapest in stock."
Then I messed up. I guess the devil made me do it! "I'm not going to smoke them, I am going to use the beer and the cigarrettes as an illustration in church tomorrow!" That got all her attention!! "Does the preacher know you are going to do that?" she desperately wanted to know. "I am the preacher." I replied.
At that point literally all hell broke loose. Jumping out of her chair she looked down one aisle then slid over for a view of the next aisle. Seeing another employee she yelled, "Sally, this guy is a preacher and he is buying cigarrettes and beer to use in the sermon at church!" "No way!" "Way!" Then finally running to the front of the store this second employee said, "What church do you preach at and what time are your services? This I got to see."
And bless her heart she did see, during the first service there she was in her employee shirt, skipping out on work to see such a sight.
Following God and attempting to make God real to a disbelieving world is an adventure. You can never tell what God may call you to do and how God may use your efforts to make a difference in someone's life.
Who could have guessed?
God's best,
Bill
The topic of the day in worship was "being responsible" and I was attempting to make the point that Christ followers are called to use not only good judgement, but also Christ's perspective in all our actions and that we suffer when we do not behave in this way. I was discussing a term I had run across on the internet, "freshman heaven." Freshman heaven is what happens when an 18 year old boy stands in his dorm room and watches his parents drive away and shouts to the world, "Free at last!!! Thank God I am free at last!" That freedom often leads him to the picture I was displaying of the cigarrette smoking beer drinking, free wheeling life that includes trying everything except class. I ended the point by declaring that as wonderful as "freshman heaven" can be; there is no such thing as "sophmore heaven!" People who forget responsibility and good judgement aren't around their sophomore years.
At the end of the sermon we then auctioned off the six pack of beer to the highest bidder in the congregation. It came with a certificate of authenticity that it had actually been used as a sermon illustration and appeared on the worship stage!! It brought in $185 for the mission fund!
As wild and uncomfortable as that scene was, the one that preceded it on Saturday was even more bizarre.
Saturday afternoon I finally determined that I would in fact do the illustration mentioned above. Then I realized I had a problem. I didn't have any cigarrettes or any beer. What to do?
Bravely I drove into a local quick stop store just down from the church and went in on a mission to rectify the situation. I wandered back to the beer section and began a search for the cheapest beer in the store. While I was sold on the idea of the illustration, I was going to put the point of the message, good judgement and responsibility to work. It took a while to determine that in that store, a six pack of Coors Light in bottles met the ticket. Then I had to go to the counter to order cigarrettes.
I put the beer on the counter and told the lady working there that I wanted the cheapest pack of cigarrettes they had. Without blinking an eye she asked, "Filters or non?" I explained that I didn't care, I just wanted the cheapest pack they sold. That got her attention. "Don't you care what you smoke?" she inquired. "Nope, just the cheapest in stock."
Then I messed up. I guess the devil made me do it! "I'm not going to smoke them, I am going to use the beer and the cigarrettes as an illustration in church tomorrow!" That got all her attention!! "Does the preacher know you are going to do that?" she desperately wanted to know. "I am the preacher." I replied.
At that point literally all hell broke loose. Jumping out of her chair she looked down one aisle then slid over for a view of the next aisle. Seeing another employee she yelled, "Sally, this guy is a preacher and he is buying cigarrettes and beer to use in the sermon at church!" "No way!" "Way!" Then finally running to the front of the store this second employee said, "What church do you preach at and what time are your services? This I got to see."
And bless her heart she did see, during the first service there she was in her employee shirt, skipping out on work to see such a sight.
Following God and attempting to make God real to a disbelieving world is an adventure. You can never tell what God may call you to do and how God may use your efforts to make a difference in someone's life.
Who could have guessed?
God's best,
Bill
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
New Beginnings
I have dealt with my share of "death bed" conversions during my ministry, but never dreamed I would experience such a turn around in my career. But a phone call from the Bishop of the Arkansas area two years ago changed my focus, my culture, my wardrobe, my life. Much to my surprise, I am reveling in the new experiences with probably more gusto than any reformed addict ever expressed for their sobriety.
What could bring about such a repentence? After 26 years of serving as a traditional minister in a series of traditional congregations, I was asked to go and be the senior pastor of a totally contemporary, or theatrical, or experiencial (we are not really sure what to call ourselves) church. All I can attribute the change to is Divine intervention, or sudden episcopal insanity!
Whatever the cause, my rebirth in ministry hit me with all the voltage of difibulator pads that sent new life coursing through every pore of my body and soul.
After 26 years of what I had perceived as joyful ministry, I suddenly discovered the excitement the disciples must have experienced in their original walk with Jesus, when every day brought another WOW moment to their lives. How powerful it is to awaken every day and have no idea how God and the other staff members of the church will be able to surprise you with a new and creative way to share the good news of Christ.
Looking back on the two years I have been traveling this path, I now recognize that for all my life I had been seeking this place and style of life. I've always been pretty much out of step with the world.
In the world of athletics where I grew up, I was always more comfortable with friends from the band and choir than the other jocks. In a family of school teachers I just got by in the classroom, always more interested in reading novels than in studying. In seminary I loved the Old Testament amidst all the Greek reading Jesus freaks. In my ministry I have written plays about the birth of Jesus that were based on Michael Crighton's "Timeline" and involved building a "Bethlehem" on the parking lot of church and having groups of "timeshifters" traveling back to see what might have happened. For years instead of devotions in our Wednesday night services I would produce "Ramblings" which were simply stories of where I had encountered God in the ordinary daily events of life.
But still every Sunday I donned the robe and stole and presided over the liturgy of the church. I didn't have a clue there was another way to do it.
Then came the Bishop's call and everything was jump started.
The poor people in my new church had to endure a minister who led the very first contemporary service he ever saw or participated in. That they came back the next week without rotting vegtables in their hands to thow at me is truly a sign of God's Grace.
But these two years, where drums and guitars have replaced organ and piano; where 85 decibal songs including recently "Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns and Roses replaced sedate choral presentations; where home written drama took the slot reserved for the creeds and liturgy; and where there is not a cross or a pulpit in sight; in those places I have found God in a way and power that I never experienced before.
In those 26 years of traditional ministry I baptized 17 people over the age of 21. I baptized tons of babies and confirmands, but never even met many older folks who might be baptized. In two years here I have baptized 55 people over 21! I've met addicts, Goths, walking buletin boards for tatoo parlors, in effect the people Jesus intended to help all along, those lost in the eyes of the rest of the world.
So now my education is taking another step and I'm going to attemp blogging.
I have strong doubts anyone will actually find this rambling, much less read it. But I am on a road, a new journey, and can't wait to see how God will bless this adventure!
Have a great day!
Look for God in new places, you might be amazed at what you will find.
Bill
What could bring about such a repentence? After 26 years of serving as a traditional minister in a series of traditional congregations, I was asked to go and be the senior pastor of a totally contemporary, or theatrical, or experiencial (we are not really sure what to call ourselves) church. All I can attribute the change to is Divine intervention, or sudden episcopal insanity!
Whatever the cause, my rebirth in ministry hit me with all the voltage of difibulator pads that sent new life coursing through every pore of my body and soul.
After 26 years of what I had perceived as joyful ministry, I suddenly discovered the excitement the disciples must have experienced in their original walk with Jesus, when every day brought another WOW moment to their lives. How powerful it is to awaken every day and have no idea how God and the other staff members of the church will be able to surprise you with a new and creative way to share the good news of Christ.
Looking back on the two years I have been traveling this path, I now recognize that for all my life I had been seeking this place and style of life. I've always been pretty much out of step with the world.
In the world of athletics where I grew up, I was always more comfortable with friends from the band and choir than the other jocks. In a family of school teachers I just got by in the classroom, always more interested in reading novels than in studying. In seminary I loved the Old Testament amidst all the Greek reading Jesus freaks. In my ministry I have written plays about the birth of Jesus that were based on Michael Crighton's "Timeline" and involved building a "Bethlehem" on the parking lot of church and having groups of "timeshifters" traveling back to see what might have happened. For years instead of devotions in our Wednesday night services I would produce "Ramblings" which were simply stories of where I had encountered God in the ordinary daily events of life.
But still every Sunday I donned the robe and stole and presided over the liturgy of the church. I didn't have a clue there was another way to do it.
Then came the Bishop's call and everything was jump started.
The poor people in my new church had to endure a minister who led the very first contemporary service he ever saw or participated in. That they came back the next week without rotting vegtables in their hands to thow at me is truly a sign of God's Grace.
But these two years, where drums and guitars have replaced organ and piano; where 85 decibal songs including recently "Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns and Roses replaced sedate choral presentations; where home written drama took the slot reserved for the creeds and liturgy; and where there is not a cross or a pulpit in sight; in those places I have found God in a way and power that I never experienced before.
In those 26 years of traditional ministry I baptized 17 people over the age of 21. I baptized tons of babies and confirmands, but never even met many older folks who might be baptized. In two years here I have baptized 55 people over 21! I've met addicts, Goths, walking buletin boards for tatoo parlors, in effect the people Jesus intended to help all along, those lost in the eyes of the rest of the world.
So now my education is taking another step and I'm going to attemp blogging.
I have strong doubts anyone will actually find this rambling, much less read it. But I am on a road, a new journey, and can't wait to see how God will bless this adventure!
Have a great day!
Look for God in new places, you might be amazed at what you will find.
Bill
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