You won't find it in a hymnal (at least not the ELW), you'll hardly hear it on the radio, and it's not one that most children learn and repeat at home anymore. But it's my favorite carol. And for some reason, it makes me teary. I'm not sure why the thought of animals giving whatever they may have as a gift for the Christ Child makes me feel all mushy inside, but that just happens to be the case.
Jesus, our Brother, strong and good, Was humbly born in a stable rude, And the friendly beasts around Him stood, Jesus, our Brother, strong and good.
I'd have to ask my mom to find out if this memory is really real or if I've made it up, but I recall her singing this song to me and claiming as her favorite carol too. Whether that's the case or not, it's how I remember it, so along with other false memories and stories I've made up about photographs I've seen, it's a part of my story.
“I,” said the donkey, shaggy and brown, “I carried His mother uphill and down, I carried His mother to Bethlehem town; I,” said the donkey, shaggy and brown.
A part of my story, my story of Christmas. Along with heading to church in the super cold, wearing those tights and my new Christmas dress, even though I happen to be losing feeling in my toes. Singing out loud, and using "la la" when I don't know the words, since we only sing some of these songs once a year, but they're beautiful anyway. Coming home and begging to open "just one" present. Piling into the car wearing pajamas, driving across town to Grandma's, eating meatballs and cheeseballs and pickles and such. Playing with cousins, and getting oh so tired, and then going to bed...but not to sleep. Because something special is happening tonight. And I don't want to miss it.
“I,” said the cow, all white and red, “I gave Him my manger for His bed, I gave Him hay to pillow His head; I,” said the cow, all white and red.
And it does happen. Not only does Santa sneak in and leave us gifts and fill our stockings to bulging, and not only does Dad have "one more surprise" when we think the gifts have all been opened. Not only do we eat until we're bulging and bask in the company of the ones we love. But also, even as Grandma gathers up the wrapping paper oh so quickly, something infinitely more special has happened. And as kids we know it. And as grown ups we try to remember. Christmas has come once again. With the mystery and the silence, with the star and the angels and the plain old shepherds standing by.
“I,” said the sheep with curly horn, “I gave Him my wool for His blanket warm, He wore my coat on Christmas morn; I,” said the sheep with curly horn.
And if I'm my eyes are somehow still dry, this verse always gets me. How sweetly the dove coos. How gently the baby sleeps. How quietly we stand by and watch. How deeply we know, although we can't quite understand. How strangely God works, works to redeem this world. A babe in a manger. God with us. Emmanuel.
“I,” said the dove, from the rafters high, “I cooed Him to sleep that He should not cry, We cooed Him to sleep, my mate and I; I,” said the dove, from the rafters high.
For those who are counting, the night is almost over, the day is drawing near. And soon, all that remains uncrossed on our list of holiday to do, won't matter. And all that we have done to prepare will seem unimportant. Soon, God will enter yet again into our human story, proving a love that is beyond compare.
Thus all the beasts, by some good spell, In the stable dark were glad to tell Of the gifts they gave Emmanuel, The gifts they gave Emmanuel.
As I wait upon the Lord, in the season of Advent, I find myself surrounded by joyful distractions. Advent is a season of cookie baking, tree decorating, movie watching, cocoa drinking, gift shopping, package mailing, letter writing, envelope addressing, event attending, worship leading (at least in my case). And while I intensely enjoy pretty much all of these preparation-related activities, I find it hard to engage in the waiting, watching, wondering spirit of a season of preparing our hearts, and not just our homes.
And so, in the midst of it all, I have to literally force myself to slow down...even for a minute or two everyday. To try to rest in God's presence. To recognize the loving embrace that enfolds me even in the midst of my busy-ness. To just be.
I know God created me as a person who loves to do. I love to do so many different things, and want to do so many things, and plan to do so many things, that at the end of each day, I can't help but lament and stress out over all the things that remain undone. And if reading the last sentence made you downright tired, welcome to my world!
And so it is, that I am called to remember, that God made me to be a person who is. (See the story of "Martha and Mary" Luke 10:38-42) Since I feel more comfortable when I'm about the task of getting things done, it's a stretch for me to enter into the be-ing-ness of prayer, but I'm always glad at the way it stretches me when I give in and give it a try.
Tomorrow is yoga day.
And once a week, for a blissful 10 minutes, I relax. I've come to look forward to the words, "it's now time for relaxation." I find a comfortable place on my mat, chase the thoughts of 'what's for dinner?' out of my mind, and slip into 10 full minutes of undercover prayer. No one around me may know it, but I connect with God in that moment. Not by listing my wants and needs and concerns or joys, but by listening...listening for the heartbeat that tells me my life is in God's hands, listening for the breath that comes to me as gift, listening for the still, small voice that I so often drown out with my own chatter.
May you find a moment to rest in God's presence, today, tomorrow, every day.
Watch, Wait, Wonder. Experience Advent.
O Come, O Come, Emmanuel Bring peace and comfort for my busy soul. Show me the way to rest in you, That all my tasks may finally be through. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel, Shall come to you, O Israel.
So it may be a little hokey or Old Lutheran-esque, but I decided to go the hotdish and Jell-o route in recruiting students for my Foundations of Lutheranism adult ed course coming up this January. If you're a member of Bethany, or you live in the Denver area and want to check it out, please come and join us as we explore the dynamics of being a Lutheran. If not, go ahead and have a laugh at this, my first Beacon (newsletter) article. I'll have to see if a pot luck might be a possibility for our last session or something similarly spectacularly Lutheran.
How Lutheran Are You?
I love being Lutheran!Now, I don’t just mean that I love Jell-o, hot dishes, Swedish meatballs, and Norwegian sweaters, but I love even more the way that we, as Lutherans, think about God, ourselves, and the world around us.Our particular expression of the Christian faith has so much to offer as we look for meaning and purpose in our lives and as we strive to answer the call to live as faith-filled people.
But how much do you really know about being Lutheran?You may be familiar with the standing and sitting, and sitting and standing as our liturgical workout, and you may know how to respond when someone says, “The Lord be with you” (and also with you).But still, you may wonder…
Why do we baptize babies when other denominations don’t?
How is it that the bread and the wine are Christ’s body and blood?
Can I really be both a saint and a sinner…at the same time?
What exactly am I supposed to get out of sermon?
And what’s with this whole ‘saved by grace’ thing anyway?
If you want to know more about our particular history, theology, and practice so that you can love being a Lutheran too, or fall in love all over again…
Join me, Intern Jess, Sundays in January as we overview the Foundations of Lutheranism.
We’ll meet in room 210 at 9:00am Sundays January 9, 16, 23, and 30.
The recent engagement of Prince William and burgers aside, I really don't care much about royalty.
I may pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America (though not much since 6th grade), but I don't think very often of any governmental power over my life, let alone being subject to someone's reign. I have a feeling most 21st century Americans are in my proverbial boat.
So, it's with an aura of oddness that we celebrate Christ the King Sunday.
Wouldn't it be better to celebrate Jesus is God or Christ Our Savior, or even Jesus Rules! Sunday? I'm thinking Buddy Christ could be our mascot that day, smiling down from the altar.
I mean, most of our thoughts connected with kingship are negative: the king getting fat while the subjects starve, or brutal: the king in the midst of a bloody battle, or just plain out-dated: a scene ala Monty Python--armor and horses and castles and all. It just doesn't seem fitting in our day of political-correctness, modernity, independence, and democracy to talk anymore about Jesus as Christ the King.
Or is it just entirely perfect?
In a time when we look to no one but ourselves as our greatest authority; In a time when kingship has become an absurdity; In a time when the world seems subject to anything other than God...
It is the perfect time for a king whose authority in love compels us to look outside ourselves, who rules in the backward absurdity of the way of the cross, who promises that all of Creation--in spite of how it may appear to our eyes--is under the reign of a God who calls Creation "good" and is working to restore it in its very goodness.
One of my favorite seminary professors and WorkingPreacher guru, Dr. David Lose, had helpful words about the concept of Christ the King, and I looked to his wisdom in preparation to preach this most awkward, yet most beautiful of Sundays. He says,
"The kingdom of God (or of heaven, in Matthew) is not simply about supplanting an earthly ruler with a heavenly one. In heralding the coming kingdom of God, Jesus was not advocating regime change. Rather, Jesus was announcing the advent of an entirely different way of being in relationship with each other and with God. It's not the ruler that changes, but the realm in which we live."
Now is the time of Christ the King. Thy Kingdom come.
Want to hear more? Listen to my sermon from this past Sunday: Kingdom Vision
"...And who does Mama teach to mend and tend and fix, Preparing me to marry whoever Papa picks?
The daughter, the daughter! Tradition! The daughter, the daughter! Tradition!"
The congregation I’m serving on internship this year has been doing a lot of work around Faith Formation using the resources provided by The Youth and Family Institute and their Vibrant Faith Ministries, including some coaching by Paul Hill. Their language has been super helpful in giving the congregation a common vocabulary around Faith Formation and the way we support families as they form faith in their homes.
Their Vibrant Faith Frame includes “Four Keys for Practicing Faith.” Our staff and members have been busy taking steps to incorporate the “four keys” in all sorts of ways in the ministry of our congregation. In fact, the Youth Room has recently had an Extreme Makeover to become the “Four Key Soul Schopp.” Check it out in this video if you’re curious. It's awesome.
One of the keys is “rituals and traditions.”
In the world of Faith Formation, rituals are viewed primarily in a positive light. It’s assumed that the things families or faith communities do in an intentionally repetitive way are seen as fodder for building faith. However, conversation in my Education I online course this week (yes, I'm taking online classes while on internship...I'm a crazy person) has also opened my eyes to something that I already knew, but had not quite formulated in this way: rituals can be negative. They can lose their meaning, or become harmful if we aren’t careful.
Rituals, with their potential power, must be handled with care. And reassessed often.
How can we balance the potential positive power of ritual in faith communities with the possibility of those same rituals having a negative impact? When is a ritual helpful? When is it harmful? And when has it simply faded into the background so as to become scenery? And then, finally, even if a ritual has faded into the background, how can it still continue to have an impact even when we may not name it or claim it?
Consider, as my classmate suggested, Fiddler on the Roof. What a great example of ritual functioning in every possible way: the good, the bad, and the ugly. I played a villager in Red River High School's performance of Fiddler my freshman year, so of course it holds a special place in my heart. But good thing some traditions are not universal or eternal. Heaven only knows how my life would look if I were to depend on my ability to mend and tend and fix. Let's not even consider if I had been condemned to marry whoever my Papa picked!
It's way too early to be singing Christmas carols. In fact it's against my strictly enforced rule of "nothing Christmassy until after Thanksgiving." But the (very large) softly falling snowflakes outside the church windows are putting me in a roasty toasty winter snuggle up mood.
And then on the other hand, that same blanket of fresh white stuff is also putting me into winter panic mode. You see, I come from a land Up North. Where the first snow fall signals the onset of six or seven months of frozen tundra survival. In fact, I grew up learning how to drive on ice (a handy skill actually), since the streets were never really plowed down to the concrete from December through March.
But my friends in the church office assure me: winter in Denver is different. I ask them over and over, unable to hide my anxiety, "So, you're sure this stuff won't stick around?" And they laugh and say I could probably be swimming outdoors next week. I'll believe it when it happens. Although it is reassuring that no one else around here seems to be fretting about the fact that that white stuff is accumulating out there.
So I guess I'll do my best to sink into the snuggle up-ness of this first wintry night, and avoid ordering a UV lamp and signing up for the Seasonal Affect Disorder support group just yet. A tv dinner, cozy pajamas, a mug of Tension Tamer tea, and season 3 of Mad Men on dvd are on tap for me tonight. As for that snow, I'll enjoy it while it lasts...and I won't be sad to watch it melt...hopefully sooner than later!
It's not technically any sort of anniversary of our wedding today.
We were married on June 12, 2010.
It just happens to be today that I find it hard to believe that it's already been more than four months since Trey and I tied the knot.
This weekend my mom asked me, as she looked for the first time at our framed wedding pictures hung around our apartment, "Jess, looking back now, what would you have changed about the wedding if you could do it over?"
First of all, Mom, I replied, I won't be doing it over. Too much pre-wedding stress, anxiety, and planning craziness...plus, I happen to like the guy I ended up with as my "husby."
But truly, even if I reeeeallly think about it, I wouldn't change a thing. Not even the fact that our limo was too small--it led to great wedding party bonding. Or even that we didn't know we were supposed to provide our own champagne for the post-ceremony ride to the reception--we wouldn't have had the great impromptu photo shoot at The Little Wine Shoppe in Saint Anthony Village.
I'm happy to say, I couldn't have been a happier bride. And my mom agreed, noting the "Cheshire cat grin" I wore all day and into the night.
I'll close this post with my favorite (well, one of) wedding day memory: The Bagel Shop Good Samaritan Incident...
We had just gotten our hair done at Salon George, and my bridesmaids, mothers, and I were loading up on carbs at Brueggers Bagel Bakery before heading to the ceremony site. I was adorned in my wedding day getting-ready outfit which, since leaving the salon, was topped off by my homemade veil. Apparently my look screamed "bride"...and maybe even "frugal bride."
As I chomped my bagel sandwich, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to find a gentleman standing behind me. The man smiled and said, "Unfortunately I won't be able to make it to your dollar dance tonight, but I want you to have this..." And he pressed something into my hand. I looked down to find a hundred dollar bill. "Shut up!" I shouted at him as I slugged him on the arm in a Elaine-from-Seinfeld-esque move. And before I could properly thank him, he disappeared. I turned to my posse and showed them the bill. They were as amazed as I was. "Who was he?" my mom asked. "No idea," I replied. My mom went on to exclaim how rude I had been and how confused that man must have been that I said "shut up" instead of "thank you." Maybe it did confuse him. But I feel justified each time I tell this story and the listener responds by slugging me and exclaiming, "Shut up!"
...shouted Paul Revere in my apartment this morning. Figuratively of course.
It is true. My parents are coming. In just six short hours, give or take flight delays, we will pick them up from the Denver International Airport.
The first parental visit to our new place. An occassion such as this calls for me to set aside all sassiness and dig deep into the reservoirs of domestic diligence. So this morning a full force assault was launched against dirt, dust, and other such griminess that has accumulated in our first three months of life in our new apartment.
Four loads of laundry, countless squirts of Windex, one boxed caked mix, and four hours later, our home is officially ready for the arrival of our special guests. If only the scent of baking chocolate would linger for a few more hours. In the midst of the challenge of establishing ourselves in a place miles from most of our loved ones, the passing presence of a guest provides warmth, familiarity. While hospitality may not be one of my most strongly presenting spiritual gifts, I am discovering the thrill of making a guest bed and anticipating someone's arrival. Especially when, for the first time in my independent life, the apartment I inhabit feels like a home.
We can't wait to show off our places of work, the wedding gifts we've found ways to use, our knowledge of the Denver area, the beauty of the mountains, the warmer weather than North Dakota, and the way we've been able to create a life here for ourselves.
As we entertain and feed, laugh and converse, I hope the warmth of company will settle in to the cracks in our walls and absorb into the carpet. So that as we spend weeks on our own, Trey and I might be reminded of the circle of love that enfolds us, even when friends and family are far away.
At Bethany, every Sunday brings something new. You have to be on your toes to keep up! Last Sunday, October 3, I had the chance to play the role of "Pastor" in some unusual ways. It was a Sunday full of unexpected worship venues, and extra-ordinary worship participants.
The Holy Day began on the light rail to downtown Denver. I was headed to participate in the Komen Race for the Cure. Our congregation was represented by around 70 walkers! The total gathered that morning numbered over 50,000. I had the honor of praying a blessing over our Bethany team before we hit the starting line for the 5K walk. And, although I managed to lose most of the group over the course of the walk, I was overwhelmed by the power of God working through community, solidarity, and the human spirit to survive, thrive, and celebrate in the face of great pain, loss, and struggle. I was proud to be Pastor among a congregation who believed their steps can bring hope and effect change. What a beautiful act of worship, under the tabernacle of an autumn morning sky.
Next, I hurried to catch the 10:30 worship service in the setting of our more traditional sanctuary. I was surely the only congregation member dressed in hot pink running shorts and a pink sequined headband that morning...or maybe in the history of worship at Bethany.
The morning of unusual ministry ended with a worship service for those who usually aren't allowed in sanctuaries---our four-legged, two-finned, animal friends. The Blessing of the Animals is a fall ritual at Bethany, and our courtyard became a holy place for those who feel a special connection to a friend with fur or scales...and their furry, scale-y friends as well! Hymns of praise mingled with barks of joy, and the peace was passed in a most unusual way among those canine worshipers who greeted each other with inquisitive sniffs.
We sang, we prayed, we listened to a message from "St. Francis of Assisi." Then humans and animals lined up together to receive a blessing--for health, life, friendship, and good things to chase.
I made friends with a particularly loveable goldendoodle named Tucker. I wondered as I posed for a photo if the pastoral alb I was wearing had ever had such an exciting outing from its home in the sacristy closet.
Two Sundays ago, I preached my first sermon on internship. Relying on many helpful resources, including a text study full of the most wonderful retired Lutheran pastors around, I managed to come up with this little something to say about the "hardest parable." I've been encouraged to hear how God has spoken through the words I finally put down on paper and delivered. What a gift it is to be able to speak God's Word into people's lives! And what a challenge. I hope God keeps giving me something to say.
The Text:
Luke 16:1-13
16:1 He also said to the disciples, “There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was wasting his possessions.2 And he called him and said to him, ‘What is this that I hear about you? Turn in the account of your management, for you can no longer be manager.’3 And the manager said to himself, ‘What shall I do, since my master is taking the management away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg.4 I have decided what to do, so that when I am removed from management, people may receive me into their houses.’5 So, summoning his master's debtors one by one, he said to the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’6 He said, ‘A hundred measures of oil.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill, and sit down quickly and write fifty.’7 Then he said to another, ‘And how much do you owe?’ He said, ‘A hundred measures of wheat.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill, and write eighty.’8 The master commended the dishonest manager for his shrewdness. For the sons of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than the sons of light.9 And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of unrighteous wealth, so that when it fails they may receive you into the eternal dwellings.
10 “One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much, and one who is dishonest in a very little is also dishonest in much.11 If then you have not been faithful in the unrighteous wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches?12 And if you have not been faithful in that which is another's, who will give you that which is your own?13 No servant can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money.” (ESV)
The Sermon: Holy Scam Artists
What the heck Jesus? Anyone else wondering what in the world Jesus is trying to tell us through this ridiculous parable?
Let’s have a second look at this confusing story. We have: a boss, a manager, and some account holders. The boss responds harshly to rumors that this manager hasn’t been keeping the books in order, and fires him on the spot. Faced with the crisis of job loss, the manager’s options flash before his eyes. Years of lazy bookkeeping haven’t put him in shape for hard labor. And his cushy job has not prepared him for the blow to his pride that begging on the street would surely bring—at least he admits it.
So, the last resource he can rely on is his creativity. He decides his best bet is to cut a deal with his boss’ accounts and hope that these clients will become more than fair-weather friends and take him in. He does some final creative bookkeeping and erases a bit of debt owed. He walks away, fingers crossed, hoping the debtors will remember that they ‘owe him one’ and that his boss won’t find out about the final fudging on his audit. But there’s a slight glitch in his plan…his boss does find out. And now I’m sure that the manager is banking on getting at least a little jail time for charges of fraud. He sure deserves it at this point. But wait a minute…back to the scene….there are no fingers waving, no voices raised… instead we watch as the boss reaches over and gives this despicable manager-- this scam artist--a big old pat on the back. “Well done.” We hear him congratulate. “You are the wisest little sneak I know. We could all learn a thing or two from you.”
Hold the phone. This can’t be right. How did this story get in here? Surely Luke must have made a mistake. Maybe he didn’t mean to write that the master “commended” the dishonest manager. Maybe it was supposed to read “the master reprimanded the dishonest manager”. Yeah, that’s better. In all seriousness, what is it about this story that rubs us the wrong way? Why have so many faithful people tried in so many different ways to explain this story away, or make excuses for it, or entirely skip over it? What is it that bugs us so much? I think the problem is this: The master commends the dishonest manager. And we can’t handle the scandal.
We can’t handle the scandal because we are account managers…and just ones at that! We keep tabs, naturally, every one of us. From an early age, we learn to be accountants. We become aware of the fact that certain actions will gain us credit with people and others will bankrupt us outright. If we use the beautiful colors in our crayon box to decorate the wall in our bedroom, we will not, an hour later, have a balance needed to obtain the cookies we request for snack time. However, if we use those same tools to create a masterpiece on construction paper, featuring the beauty of our mother, we may earn ourselves a credit that we can draw upon for a week at least!
Soon, as adults we’re trade a smile for a smile, a favor for a favor, and keeping track of exactly who owes us exactly what.
A couple of months ago, I entered the holy institution of marriage, and found out about a whole other level of account managing. I have yet to find the ledger in which my beloved husband marks down each time he has done the dishes or every time I got to choose what we watch on tv. But I know it exists! And I’ve hidden mine well too, though I think I may have earned enough credit to cash in on a chick flick soon.
We love to keep tabs. And we love it even more when the balances all add up neatly. So we cannot handle it when this unjust, dishonest, shrewd, slimy manager gets away with cheating the system. He’s a downright scam artist. And if this manager’s boss is supposed to represent God, we cannot handle the scandal of his pat on the back. God, certainly, would not condone this kind of behavior. Would he?
God is just. God’s justice is like a mighty hammer, demanding what is owed. There are over 600 laws or commandments in the Old Testament alone. Surely God sits in heaven, as we picture, with a giant Excel spreadsheet, keeping track as each of keeps or breaks one of these laws. And the deal is, according to God’s justice, that at the end of our lives, we’ll be called into account for how we’ve lived, and we’ll each receive our reward or punishment as it is owed. God the Great Bookkeeper.
One big problem. We’re all in the red. Not one of us has managed to keep a positive balance in the Eternal Bank of God.
We are more than lucky to find at this point, that Jesus is the unjust manager. He is the merciful manager. With his creative bookkeeping and his great eraser, Jesus becomes for us the Holy Scam Artist. Working the books like the dishonest manager, he cuts our debts down to size. Down to the only size that we are able to pay: zero. By his grace, and penchant for cooking the books, we are freed from death into life, and given a license to practice the same questionable accounting.
No, I’m not saying that you are given the freedom to commit tax fraud or grand larceny. I really don’t want to be held responsible for that. What I am saying is that we, as workers for the Kingdom of God, are free to make the negative balances of sin and guilt disappear. We are asked to look the other way on what is owed to us, and grant forgiveness lavishly for all who are carrying burdens of debt that they cannot bear. We are to seek out those account holders who are past due, and proclaim to them the forgiveness of their debt. We are freed from the rules that have bound us, and we are allowed to call upon our creative capacities and to act shrewdly as we go about the work of the Kingdom. We are free to think outside the box as we are Church in a world that is ever-changing. We are free to worry less about our respectability—what others will think of us as individuals or as the Church.
We are free to take risks. Free to fail. We are free from sin so that we might become the holy scam artists that Christ has called us to be. We are called to use eternal economics to create future security in the hope of the resurrection for ourselves and others. And we are to act shrewdly in pursuing a life for all in this world that day by day begins to look a little more like the Kingdom.
The Kingdom of God: Now hiring Holy Scam Artists Seeking risk takers Shrewdness is a necessity Must possess a combination of creativity and drive toward the goal Must have the ability to look the other way as we make debts disappear While The Kingdom’s compensation package does not include any monetary reward, the benefits—are amazing. Amen
Reflection on my first month of internship leads me to a strange conclusion. Much of what I’ve learned revolves around this theme: What Not to Wear.
The transition from student to intern is in large part a wardrobe issue. I agonized the first week over what to wear. I regressed to junior high, laying out outfits the night before to prevent emotional breakdown in the morning. Unfortunately, while my husband was quite patient with my clothes dilemma, he wasn’t particularly helpful when it came to feedback on fashion choices. Finally, I broke down and made a trip to Ann Taylor. I left the store wondering when I had become a grown up, but looking forward to the easy decisions that a couple of pairs of dress pants and some button down shirts would make for in the future. What Not to Wear Lesson Number One: “Stick to the Essentials”
Soon I was assisting at my first funeral. I was proudly sporting my new classic suit and feeling surprisingly comfortable in a collar. There was one fashion choice I had overlooked. And as I click-clacked noisily over the tile floor in stylish heels, I realized my mistake. I tried to minimize the damage by tip-toeing across the sanctuary. While the congregation who had gathered to mourn and celebrate wondered why the intern walks like a cat, I learned What Not to Wear Lesson Number Two: “Quiet shoes are More Important than Cute Shoes When It Comes to Funeral Leadership” or “Keep it Practical.”
I could go on about my adventures in Pastoral Fashion, but there has been one lesson that covers them all. As I’ve walked fearfully into hospital rooms, stood trembling in front of a congregation to deliver a sermon, and entered so many new situations without a clear sense of what will come next, I’ve learned that I cannot rely on fashion sense alone. Whether I’m wearing heels or flats, jeans or slacks, a collar or not, doesn’t matter as much as I thought. What does matter, for me and for those I serve alongside, is that I have put on Christ. To be adorned in truth, dressed in faith, and wrapped in love are the wardrobe choices that count. And as I continue to learn what it means to be Pastor, this is the What Not to Wear Lesson that I will carry with me: “Put on Christ.”
I write tonight from a desk in an office with a tag on the door that may as well read "The Intern." I am serving a full year--August 15, 2010 through August 15, 2011--as the Pastoral Intern on staff at Bethany Lutheran Church in Cherry Hills Village, CO. This is a step in my vocational journey, a requirement of my seminary education, and a great challenge and joy.
It is in this place that I make my beginning as Pastor. Moreover, as Intern. Pastor.
Six weeks into the adventure, my insights are many, my questions are more.
I hope to share this journey of vocation with you.
An accounting of my insights, questions, journeys, adventures, struggles, and triumphs will follow.
But currently it is 5:50pm on a Wednesday night! The church building is bustling, pizza and soup are calling, and a full night of faith formation awaits.
“I,” said the dove, from the rafters high,
