First Impressions

First Impressions and being a church visitor....

I’m one of those people who really take delight in worship. I loved the time that I served as Pastor in Ashton, Idaho. I loved planning worship, sermon preparation and preaching and leading worship. Sitting back as a visitor in an unfamiliar place can be much less pleasant, because my standards are what I’ve practiced in my own ministry.

On occasion visiting a new church falls in the category of painful. It’s my definition of suffering. With so many versions of mainline church claims of being welcoming and warm, there still exists a tremendous lack of genuine welcome and sometimes it feels downright freezing cold regardless of the current weather report and central air system.  

We’re in Concord, North Carolina this week.

It’s been weeks since we’ve had a Sunday where we weren’t traveling or been otherwise committed to something which would keep us away from Sunday worship. I miss regular communion. I miss community of the body around the Table.

Friday night I started researching and located the closest Episcopal Church, checked out the times and did a little inner heel kick that the late service didn’t begin until after 11am.

Sunday  morning we headed out ready to experience the usual warm welcome we have known from the Episcopal churches in the High Desert. I’ve missed that warm “welcome home” that greeted us the first time we entered St. Hilary’s and St. Timothy’s and hoped that would be our experience.

Sadly we were a bit disappointed.

What we experienced started out just a bit awkward. We allowed ourselves an extra cushion of time to find the campus, and check out their layout. We weren’t going to be late arrivers drawing attention to ourselves by disturbing the community mid-service.

The signs approaching from the parking lot pointed out the direction to the Office, the Church, and the Church House. We broached the doors. In the loft overhead the choir was assembled for warm up. An older couple sat at the back pew; that felt familiar.

The gentleman noticed our entrance, and rose to greet us. He was kind and helpful in handing us service bulletins. He pointed out the visitors card in the pew, and then urged us out the side door to show us into a central hall for refreshments and invited us to freely join conversation at a couch about 12 feet away with several others already in conversation.

All this is okay so far. He gave the impression that he wasn’t completely comfortable conversing and didn’t transition us by introducing us to anyone else so we hung back eyeing things from afar. He did however show genuine awareness of us being present and extended his best effort at hospitality.

By the way, the priest, already vested “to the chasuble” passed us when we were first moving from the sanctuary to the hall, but made no notice of our presence.

So there we stood, for about a minute or two when another gentleman approached. He held a long fluorescent tube in one hand and was clearly on a mission. That mission was deferred as he paused, recognized our presence as strangers deserving a welcome. Good job Mr. Vestryman. Thanks for taking time to acknowledge us.

Then, as we stood with Mr. Vestryman a woman with her big name badge on came up to each of us and expressed interest

“Are you a member?” she asked. I was standing by a table that contained something. I later realized where the member badges.

“No, we’re visiting the area, members of an Episcopal Church in California. We’re here for a short stay while in training.”

“Oh....” small conversation continued. Thanks Ma’am for the acknowledgement.  That helped remove some of the discomfort. She also pointed out the refreshment table. Thanks for also offering refreshments.

And then, the priest came up to our threesome cluster, she approached Mr. Vestryman and Mrs. Member who were to my right. I looked straight at her, and my husband stood about five feet away from me, watching. She stood cleaning her glasses using her chasuble, and began carrying on weather talk with Mr Vestryman and Mrs. Member. I continued standing there, less than a foot away from the threesome looking straight at The Rev. Celebrant and still she did not seem to register that I was a visitor. It was as if I was invisible. Rather like Lazarus at the gate.

So I walked away from the group, and passed the refreshment table and proceeded to tour the very nicely furnished hall with its’ tastefully organized Library on the back wall behind the giant screen suspended from the ceiling which kept flashing announcements of upcoming events. Was that a fireplace under the screen?

Tim had retreated into the background by a different path. He disappeared on his own inspection, and then slipped back into the sanctuary.

A few minutes later I found my way to where he was and took my seat next to him in the back pew.

Then a very nice younger woman got up from her seat in the pew on the other side of the church and came up to me.

She leaned in close to my left ear and said ….“The Tag of your top is sticking up.”… “She (her now motioning to the older woman seated in another pew directly across the aisle) said it was the first thing she noticed when she saw you.”

“Oh… well…thanks for letting me know. ” I replied as I fumbled to tuck it back in concealed position.

REALLY???

Is that how you welcome a visitor?

You embarrass them straight off the bat?

Is it that important to the decorum of worshiping God and being the body of Christ that you must point out the insignificant but recalcitrant label to the complete stranger that just crossed the thresholds of Our Lord’s House of Worship?

Well thanks for that. It might not have felt like such an offense if you had offered a greeting before pointing out my fashion faux pas. Or, if at the passing of peace, you would have used just as much energy to extend the peace of Christ to mend my pricked feelings.

The crowning experience was when as we left the communion rail, being the last two people on the pulpit side of the rail, we were immediately followed by the priest hustling behind us so fast to take communion to a member at the rear that she actually stepped on the back of Tim’s foot.

I guess those last ten minutes of the third service must really feel like an eternity to you Reverend. You still have all those parishioner home visits to conduct and just want to get to the end. But next week, try not to run down the last two guests leaving our Lord’s Table as you hustle to complete your duties of serving your aged, lame and infirm members. A smile from time to time might be a warm touch. Just a thought…after you deliver the chastising word of God, contrast it later with the love of Christ overflowing. 

I can put up with the lack of flexibility in suggesting that members may stand or sit as the BCP presents it. I can put up with not knowing the service music setting as a visitor. It’s nice to hear the priest say that all are welcome to receive communion from the Lord’s Table “no matter who you are or where you are” in your life. But your actions need to match your words.

Now, if that big hall that you ushered us into is a Welcome Center, then I would humbly suggest you might just want to change your signage outside and begin to model true welcoming. Give better directions to the best door to enter.

Here’s a question for you:

When you spot a person with a garment label peeking up at their neckline what do you do?

Do you:

1. Point it out immediately.
2. Introduce yourself, begin casual conversation and then casually slip in a “oh, by the way, I love your outfit. Did you know our tag is breaking out?
3. Ignore it.
4. Introduce yourself, begin casual conversation and then casually slip in a “oh, by the way, I love your outfit. I hope you will forgive me pointing out that your tag is sticking out. I don’t know about you but that is my personal pet-peeve.”

If a Church wants to say to the world that it is a church that welcomes anyone “whoever they are and wherever they are in their walk with God”, pointing out fashion faux pas just simply contradicts the message you are trying to communicate.

Shepherd of the flock : It also doesn’t matter that you can preach an exquisite message on the texts which convicts the members of their need to remove the blinders from their eyes and do it without a manuscript  if you are going to literally walk upon the feet of the “invisible man” you just served the Bread of Life to in the Name of Jesus.

Here’s the take away…

You can never make a First Impression twice.

If I ever relocate to this area, I am highly unlikely to come right back to your beautiful campus. I could be sampling other congregations for a very long time based on the first impression of the congregation, or making this city my next most desired place to relocate.

Third Year Climber

Tomorrow is the big day!

San Diego 911 Memorial Stair Climb is celebrating it's third year as a signature Fundraising event for the San Diego Relief Association's Benevolent fund, Firefighter Aid. It is the only 911 Memorial Stair Climb in Southern California.

Every day I think about taking a big pass on my morning workout I recall those 401 men and women who died responding to the aid of the occupants in the twin towers.

No, I'm not an athlete by any sense of the word. I do however, have the ability to push myself to achieve the goal... Make it to floor 30..and walk to the elevator. Each time I make it to the top I get the unique pleasure of connecting with real heroes from across Southern California. And then repeat times two. All together, it's about an hour workout. AND we all talk about the people who we are walking to remember. WE have vowed to #NEVERFORGET

So, Tomorrow is the big day! And I've been really low key on putting the fundraising squeeze on anyone.

But now, with only 25 hours before the start, I'm asking, begging, everyone to help me make my fundraising goal.

It's a tiny goal; just $250.00. that's not even $3.00 per floor of the two towers destroyed.

Its' not even $1.00 for every public servant that died in the towers on September 11, 2001.
Sheesh... now that I look at it that way, I really should have set a higher goal, because I know how generous all of my friends and family are. 

So, please, can you help me make my goal? You can find my fundraising page right  HERE
 the whole story of who I'm climbing with and who I will

You can go directly to the donation kiosk here

I'll actually be part of the most awesome team of climbers imaginable this year, Team Mission Possible is being lead by my granddaughter.

The Teams Competion

and here are a couple more pictures from the first year...

Hailey singing America The Beautiful with her grandpa Flint

Before I ascended the Bay Hilton in 2011 with my always best cheerleader!












Kids all got to have a great time doing fire rescue activities.

Don't miss the fun this year at San Diego Bay Hilton and follow the event on twitter #SD911SMC @SD911SMC

Thanks for your support.

World as Parish

I've been thinking lately about the differences in ministry in John and Charles Wesley's day, and the present age. Is what happens through social media at any level near what George Whitefield and John Wesley stirred up when they took to the fields to preach?

Why am I thinking about such an analogy? Well, quite simple really. If you read back in this blog you'll find this little post about the start of a church community through the use of Facebook.

John Wesley found himself stirring up things quite a bit in his day. He often took advantage of invitations to fill a pulpit to preach messages that conflicted the hearers. The established Church of England had become a place for people of wealth and position, but the average man rarely stepped a foot across the sanctuary threshold.

That led to his rather unorthodox practice of preaching in fields, and public spaces on many occasion. Not only did he preach, but he even conducted Eucharistic celebrations to serve the gathered people.

What do some outside the box priests and congregants do today?
They do "Church outside the church". Sometimes to skid row. Sometimes in the subways.
They take rituals of meaning to the people instead of waiting for the people to come to them.

During John Wesley's life he spend a great deal of time visiting the sick and prisoners as well as encouraging members of the Methodist classes to do so. His admonition, "Do all the good you can, as often as you can to as many people as you can for as long as you can."  With more people claiming to be spiritual but not religious, institutional chaplains are more likely to encounter people with a need for someone to listen and offer a ministry of compassionate presence. In my own continuing discernment process I have run toward, away and then returned to this significant place of ministry, recognizing that as a chaplain, I serve from the place of my own spiritual strength, not with an intent to change the existing set of beliefs, only to help the other name them and find strength for their journey.

John was known for his intense daily schedule and his ability to maintain correspondence with a vast number of people both in and outside the Methodist Movement. He was a giant in the field of mentoring in the Christian life for both men and women. He wrote tracts that were published to help the preachers and class leaders, to equip them for their work of forming faithful disciples.

What do we do today?

BLOG! Self-publishing has become easier than ever.

We no longer even have to spend money on paper, ink or printing labor.

All a person really needs to begin to form a community online is to spend time on the computer, and engage with other people.

Being open to the Divine Dance and relevant relationships that the Holy Spirit may be inviting us into seems, at least to me, to be the key.

But one little item still seems incomplete...

Human beings need tangible human contact.

While all this online communication helps create familiarity, when the world around you begins to fall apart at the seams, most people need all their available senses to be engaged. The touch of a hand, the calm presence of another person sitting across a cup of tea or coffee. Even someone that will be moved to offer a prayer of intercession. These things cannot be fulfilled through an online community.

And in this respect, I think that John Wesley would urge each of us to find ways to commune often around a table, with Chalice and Paten, as well as Scripture to complete the work of growing in grace and giftedness to the Glory of God.

How that looks on the ground might look like one of these in the New Monasticism or in might look more like this gathering around the table in Brooklyn.

One thing I am pretty certain of. The missional focus will look beyond just the individual's needs and wants. The missional focus for the core of any such group will have a passionate interest is doing more than "hatching, matching, and dispatching" of people to "meet their maker" at the end of human life, and it won't be entirely consumed in what simply makes the members feel comfortable. It will be a place where people become proficient in listening to the Holy as She whispers and swirls among the people gathered.This kind of community will be a fountain of healing and holy living, inviting all who are thirsty to drink from the well of the Living Water.

Just my thoughts...

What do you think?

How long, O Lord?

"How long, O Lord?"

A timeless cry from deep within.

The ancients, the moderns, the traditionalists, the emergents,


The 99%, and even I, myself, as I lean into my pastoral call

"How long, O Lord?"

I am in a long season of waiting.

While I make myself useful in serving here and there

I have been waiting patiently for the acceptance and

approval of the application for authorization of an

aspiring entrepreneur to commence offering

Hospice services.

Since January....

Ministry Midwifing can be tediously boring;

nearly draining all reserves of patience and hope.

Every day requires revisiting the confident words of the applicant,

"We aren't looking for anyone else. You are our chaplain."

Just in case you have been wondering with me

"How long, O Lord.?"

I am told we are progressing, moving closer to the goal.

"Soon."




to which i think to myself... wasn't that among the famous quotes of Jesus? 

On Call

What does a person trained in pastoral ministry, with four years experience as solo pastor do when the person has one unit of Clinical Pastoral Education, and no full-time employment with the nice little compensation package do to be faithful in serving Christ in the world?

Good question:

The answer: 
First you find a community that will provide you spiritual and emotional support, acknowledge as many of your gifts as possible and then put your whole self into the life and ministry of the community.

Next, you look around, and see if there is anywhere that needs a chaplain, hoping that it will be in a place that intends to provide a fair wage.

Then, when you realize that the industry standard for Acute Health care settings is 4 units of Clinical Pastoral Education. This is 3 more than were required for denominational service prior to deployment as a pastor. So you look for a setting that has the need for chaplains but lacks the financial resources at present to compensate their department personnel.

And that is where I am. For the present I serve as an On Call Chaplain in such a location.

In that capacity I've been called in to serve in some very special and holy events.

I cover Sunday Day, Monday Night, and from time to time covering for another chaplain other days.

15:00 Sunday... reading...
    "chaplain, this is ICU nurse... we have a patient here, her family and she requested pastoral care.. please come"

17:20 Sunday..I just sat down to eat dinner..
    "Chaplain, this is ICU nurse.. we have a family whose mother just passed away. Could you come to be with them?"

10:45 - Sunday... the Great Thanksgiving just about to start...
    "Chaplain, this is ED Secretary.. we have a family, the 19 year old granddaughter just died..Could you come be with the family?"

16:00 - Sunday..just finished writing...
    "Chaplain, this is ED Secretary.. we have a patient in critical condition, his daughter is here all by herself, could you come be with her?"

10:20 - Sunday...our priest is starting the homily..
    "Chaplain, this is Nurse D in the ED... I have a patient who really could use someone to talk to..can you come by today? It's not urgent, just whenever you can come would be fine.."

18:40 -midweek...meeting just about to begin...
    "Chaplain, this is ICU Secretary... we have a terminal extubation about to be performed, and family present. Please come..."

19:05 midweek...class about to start...
   "Chaplain, this is ED Secretary.... can you come be with family. Patient died and daughter with mother, they don't have any faith community to call on."

08:15 Sunday...the Gospel is just now being read...
     "Chaplain, this is ED Secretary....there is a full arrest being brought in..lots of family coming..can you come please?"


Holy places that require quiet calm, an ability to think quickly but speak carefully. Sometimes the discovery phase in the initial minutes are so raw and intense with emotions I wonder, "Lord, what's happening here, really?" "Who are all these people? How do they relate to one another and what is their connection to the admitted patient?"

This is holy and sacred space filled with the raw intensity of emotions of people whose hearts are broken at the very moment they hear the words "I'm so sorry, we tried everything, as long as we could, but we weren't able to revive .." and the wails and keening that rises up in the space sends a gentle shiver through me. But in that space, at that moment, my job is to witness, silently, respectfully, and be fully present to their grief, not to engage in agonizing or shutting them down immediately. Not to force my theological positions upon their experience. Their experience is wholly theirs as one of loss and initial shock.  My task in that time is to listen for every clue that will help me put together some sense of how they relate to some spiritual framework, some belief system that will sustain them through the coming hours and days.Only after I've observed patiently can I begin to ask questions, to dig a bit into history and belief for the family.

This is so different from congregational ministry in one critical way. In chaplaincy, I cannot presume that my spiritual worldview is at all like the patient and family's spiritual worldview. In a parish I've already built a relationship for dealing with the death, through our worship and study together. In the Acute care setting my role is to assist the family in connecting with their chosen pastoral relationship to continue the grieving process. In the hospital I might be able to directly relate words of comfort due to our shared general faith preference, but not always. I must never become offended if the family indicates a desire for help from their own clergy..in fact, my role is really to help facilitate that connection if at all possible.

Only after a respectable space has been given for their emotions to flow will I begin to find words and voice. Every event presents itself as a free form expression of lamentation at the initial announcement of death. Only after listening and observing can I begin to ask them about the sources of strength and hope for themselves and the departed. Never until I hear them name those sources can I begin to engage them more deeply in finding their solace and hope.

Sometimes I falter, and feel that I have failed to wait long enough in silence to them. "Did I flinch?" I might ask myself later. Flinching means that I exhibited a subtle inability to be calm and present in their anguish.

After every call, I'm filled with a sense of reassurance that this was the one important event of the day I for which I set aside the time to be available..to be On Call, to live out my call, to seek and serve Christ in every person.   The yogic greeting NAMASTE clearly fit the unfolding encounter..The Divine in Me acknowledges the Divine in You. 

Rainbow Connection

I started my morning in the usual pattern...

I got a text from Tim, updating me on his schedule...working a 24 hour car we never know if he will be up all night or have the good fortune to catch a few hours of sleep.

"Meet you at the gym"

"Ok" I replied.

I fed the cat, began to make my breakfast, washed the dishes...

felt a momentary wave of sadness about my sense of unfulfilled call to the priesthood...

and shrugged it off... nothing can be done about that now.

Went to check in on email, news media stream and facebook while I ate my oatmeal.

Ready to head out the door...later than I like but in time to synch our schedules at the gym.


At 8:05 I headed out the door, got in the car, drove down my street two blocks and turned west onto
Del Oro.

I look ahead and am struck by this tremendous full arching rainbow. The beauty is so intense I want to take a picture but hate the development that will be captured in the picture so I keep driving slower than usual so that I can continue to soak in the beauty.  And then it hits me

"Do not let your heart be troubled!" Spirit whispered words of comfort and encouragement.

The Gospel of John bringing solace and hope in the midst of my frustration and disappointment.

Suddenly too, something else occurs to me.

I'm two blocks away from our new residence... driving on Del Oro Road, the "Road of Gold".

"What riches "that exceed all that I can desire"  (words from the Collect for yesterday) lies in the future?"

I cannot imagine. All I can do is rest in the hope found in the story of the Covenant of the Rainbow and the Book of Revelation. All that I can do is be faithful in discipleship with that which has been entrusted to me.

Lord in your mercy, make it so.

"I Bind unto my self this day the strong name of the Trinity. 
By Invocation to the same, the Three in One, the One in Three."
The Breast plate of St. Patrick rises in my heart as I continue on toward my destination.

As I turn to the north, the intensity of the rainbow changes, diminishes, as I shift my perspective in relation to the sun and rain that falls in the west.  The momentary transcendence of the encounter with the Holy also begins to recede into my memory as I continue to make my way, by a different route to my destination..

Waiting at the intersection without anyone behind me and streams of traffic to my right and left,  I hear the notification bell on my phone...

I've already missed hearing one notice come in when I glance down.

I have 2 messages from Tim.

"Got Call"..."At st.m. no bed delay"

Onward to the Gym.

As I travel west on Bear Valley I drive right into the rain shower.. a spring rain, gently reminding me of the days spent in Ireland, and the sweet saying Monseignor Murray offered Tim and I on our wedding day.
"Rain, surely a sign that God will be showering you with blessings."

You have to love how an Irishman can highlight the good in the most common of occurrences for the people of the Emerald Isle, and shared that tradition with the descendants of immigrant Irish Catholics.

Surely we will be blessed
and have been blessed
and are called to be a blessing to others.

Let It Be So, Lord.
Amen

Let it be.

Yoga Toes

Winter is thankfully long past and many transitions have been progressing during the past four months.

After moving from the home which we really conceived of as our place of retirement we have been settling into new daily patterns of living.

Some changes have been very good, and really quite unanticipated.

Gone is my morning walk in the desert.

It has been replaced with a gym membership and resumption of yoga practice.

My first introduction to yoga was during my ministry in Ashton, Idaho. A wise woman of the congregation approached me about offering a short introductory yoga class. She first met the teacher through her ministry to the dying as a Hospice Volunteer. The community interest in the yoga class was enthusiastic.  We started with a six week session in the fall, before the heavy winter weather would create travel problems at night. My own experience was positive. Frankly though, I simply lacked enough discipline to continue on my own after the offering. We repeated the offering again the following year. And again I lacked discipline to keep up the practice. Too many real obstacles to engage in a student-teacher relationship served as the reason for letting it slip. I merely dabbled in the practice, accumulating the equipment and supportive videos but tucking them just out of sight. I became a lapsed yoga student. It was a yoga seed planted in shallow soil.

 

Since our move has placed us in a neighborhood that lacks the same delightful place to do morning walks on the edge of our community, the membership at a local gym seemed the best way to recommit to our much needed and appreciated exercise. The double bonus was the availability of yoga classes.

So now, instead of cramped up tight toes I am developing Yoga toes.

That’s right, Yoga Toes.

Wide spread, supple and steady toes now provide support my Tree Pose. I am feeling stronger, more flexible and finding peaceful sleep with the integration of an evening relaxation practice. I feel more ready each day to walk “in Christ” and to offer presence to others as I find greater physical strength and flexibility.

“As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace.” Ephesians 6:15

Footnotes - Crunch Toes