“It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.”

A familiar lyric from the opening of the 1990’s hit, “Friends”, sums up some recent feelings I have had after attending and reading so much about the decline of the mainline church.  I’m not fine with something which has nurtured and nourished my faith becoming ineffective and irrelevant.  Yet, I fully understand that each generation needs to leave their imprint on the church.  The danger is in how to continue to work in the field of the church when without enthusiasm and joy.  It seems when I lift up my head to look at the world beyond my local parish there is great discouragement and fear. 

The church I serve is vibrant and growing.  I live in an area which is planning for growth and expansion.  But in the larger context of my current conference (Kansas East) and the larger conference we are about to become (The Great Plains Conference) there are many churches which are just holding on by a thread. In a few years, many churches will close, not because the need for faith has disappeared, but because the faithful members are dying.    I hear stories of my colleagues being mistreated and maligned by their local churches for trying to bring about the changes we are called to initiate.  I can only imagine how disheartening our District Superintendents and Episcopal leaders feel with the constant weight of maintaining the old institution of the church and trying to re-ignite us for the future.

 At a recent all-clergy meeting of our new conference as we stood around drinking coffee and complaining about statistical charts I had a moment of clarity.  The scene reminded me of one of my sacred privilege as a pastor of standing with families as they gather around a dying loved one.  At these moments families usually, drink coffee, pass around a baked good and talk about the one who is dying.  Story telling is always a critical part of these gathering with memories of good times and hard times.  The memories always include a few salty stories of youthful antics and the phrase, “remember the time….”   We clergy were doing the same thing.  We were remembering when we were large enough to gather and stand on our feet alone as individual conferences.  We remembered the leaders of the past who shaped and formed us as conference participants.  We remembered floor debates about pensions, health care, abortions, homosexuality and noted that each conference has a few people who always speak at conference about these issues.  In essence, we told the stories of our past.  We are aware of the changing nature of the church and of society.  Yet we are not sure what is next.  The demographic reports about the waning support for organized religion are distressing. 

I’m trying to keep my spirits positive in these transitional times.  I read about the work of the New Monastics movement and other innovators I have hope.    As we are in this time of waiting I continue to hold on to God’s promises of new life.  I will admit my weariness with all the bad news of death tsunamis and diminishing respect for the work of the church.    Every now and then the great line from “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” runs through my mind, “Not Dead Yet.”    We are not dead yet and in fact, I believe we have some great life ahead of us.    I will continue to work in this vineyard and proclaim, Christ is Risen.  Risen Indeed!

Some projects are started with the best of intentions. I bought all the items and accessories for scrapbooking many years ago. I had every intention of documenting every precious moment of the lives of my children. Then life got in the way and I only completed one scrapbook, from one vacation, over 10 years ago. I haven’t touched any of the items in the beautiful scrapbooking briefcase I had to have since then. I now own some beautiful scrapbooking pens which are dried up and unuseable, but at the price I paid for the pens I will not throw them away.

My blog suffers from the same intentions. I read lots of other blogs from Moms and Pastors and People, even a blog from a toddler and from a dog named Boo. I thought I had something to add to the conversation about life. I still think I do have something to add to the blogsphere, but I lack the discipline to stay with it. I’m going to keep on trying.

Ministry this week meant spending a lot of time in the car. I used my day off to attend a preaching seminar in Topeka. As my dear son said to me, “Mom, if you’d don’t know enough about preaching by now, you will never learn it.” He’s probably right, but I keep trying to learn and grow even in the life of ministry which are most familiar. Tuesday I went to Ottawa to learn more about the latest updates to our health insurance. Thursday was spent back in Topeka with the Kansas East Board of Ordained Ministry. (Lovingly referred to as BOOM by all the candidates who appear in front of us.) Next week I fly off to Dallas for three days of training with my new position on BOOM as Vice-Chairperson. Three days locked in the DFW Marriott with United Methodist pastors. I know you are jealous. I can feel your envy through the computer.

In the midst of all the windshield time I had the chance to enjoy the beautiful autumn leaves along Interstate 70. I’m going to figure out how to load a picture on here today before I leave the building. (Or maybe not. I have tickets to an actually first run movie with my hubby of 25 years and two months.) In all the busyness of life, I hope you are finding something to love. I also hope you also find something which you are still trying to accomplish. Never stop setting goals for yourself. When I have failed at a goal I have I set I usually discover that I set the wrong goal. Upon reflection I usually learn that I needed to set a more specific or detailed goal.

My goal today is to go to movie with my husband, eat some popcorn, complain about the cost of popcorn and to hold the hand of someone who loves me. This goal sounds very attainable and realistic.

In the middle of life.

Shelly

There was something disgusting in my basement three weeks ago. Somethings are too gruesome to even blog about anonymously. But I’m not going go into the whole gross thing. Let’s just say: it began with grossness and ended with a 55 foot long trench in my front yard, sixteen feet deep and eight feet wide. The plumber came with his camera on a long snake and took a picture of my sewer line. (I even have a copy of this on DVD for my later viewing pleasure.) He started the visit with this tantalizing snippet: “There isn’t any good news today. No good news at all.” From there it only gets worse. Several thousands of dollars later and lots of dirt moved around my yard. The good news is that we can flush our toilets and take showers and do our laundry.

What if, on any given Sunday, the preacher stood and announced to her congregation: “There’s no good news today. None. Nada. Zero.” What would be the point of going to church or singing any songs or even taking an offering. Week after week we proclaim a gospel of good news against a back drop of bad news all around us. Each week it seems the job of the preacher is to help push back the bad of the world, or at least to find words with the help of the Holy Spirit, to inspire the congregation to know we can push back evil with our efforts.

It is in the small efforts we use, day to day, that really make difference in the world. What small thing could you do today to push back the bad? Have you heard any good news today? How have you offered good news to the world?

There is good news today. My plumber was wrong. Our plumbing problem is fixed. We eventually found the resources to pay for the repairs. The only gruesome left in my basement are some ugly Christmas decorations from the 1990’s.

I am a middle child. I am in the middle of my ministerial life. I am, in what I hope, is the middle of my life. I live in the middle of the continental United States. I am a part of the sandwich generation. My parents are independent, yet are closing in on needing additional support. My adult children are still at home. So I am firmly in the middle of many parts of my life.

The middle has freedom and restraints. I have the support and boundaries of the middle of my family and of my geography. I am always surrounded by love and care. I have boundaries everywhere, whether I like them or not. I chafe at the middle place sometimes too. The middle can feels suffocating and all-encompassing too.

My life in the middle is where I live and thrive. This beginning blog is my note to the world. There is lots of space in the middle for expression and living. So join me in the middle of my mid-term, mid-life, mid-ministry, mid-continent life.

Welcome to WordPress.com! This is your very first post. Click the Edit link to modify or delete it, or start a new post. If you like, use this post to tell readers why you started this blog and what you plan to do with it.

Happy blogging!