Vacation: Part Two

Yesterday we got back from our trip to Oasis (Convention Assembly) and our extra day for our anniversary. It was a good time away, and the best part was seeing some old, good friends that I hadn't connected with in awhile. It was also cool that Convention was held at Mount Allison, where I went for my undergrad. I've not gotten back there much since graduating in '95 and it was nice to revisit my old stomping grounds. Our daughter, Ella, was very glad to have us back with her. Though I know she enjoyed staying at her grand-parents very much!

Despite the fact that we were away, had time together, stayed in a bed and breakfast, and enjoyed eating out, this time away was not vacation. Technically, it was work. Going to Convention, while not exactly strenuous, is still part of ministry.

So our real vacation begins yesterday/today. And tomorrow we head off to my in-laws camp for the rest of vacation. Being there means quiet, stillness, reading, sleeping in, playing with my daughter, paying scant attention to my watch, noodling on my guitar, and generally just relaxing. We usually take vacation in late August/early September. It's not as hot, there aren't as many bugs, and it makes a definite break between summer and fall. That said, not sure if we'll do it this way next year or not. We'll see.

I just pray that I can rest as much with my heart and mind as I will, no doubt, with the rest of me. It can be hard to turn off work-thinking. Anyway, I'll not likely be back here for most of the two weeks, if at all. Time to go offline, as it were. See you all when I log back on!

God's talking; are we listening?

Well tomorrow our VBS starts (Vacation Bible School for those uninitiated!). And on Wednesday my wife and I head off to Convention Assembly (now called Oasis). After this, on Saturday evening (also our 6th anniversary), we begin officially our two weeks of vacation which, wonderfully, encompasses three Sundays. The break will be very nice.

I'm going to try to do some more intentional listening to God over these next few weeks. Let's just say that I need some refreshing before a new season of ministry begins in the fall. I'm considering preaching through the Gospel of Mark when I come back. I did this with the Gospel of John a couple of years ago, and I think that going through the life and ministry of Jesus is incredibly valuable and has the effect (or can and should have the effect) of renewing our focus on he who ought to be the focus of all we do and are. It's easy to get sidetracked both in life and in ministry with peripheral matters. But whether this is what I make my preaching about post-vacation is going to be one of the things I'm praying about.

I know there are a couple of other pastors who occasionally drop by this blog, so let me ask you a question: how do you experience God's leading in relation to preaching? How do you seek his leading? What makes it easiest to discern his leading?

And for those of you who aren't pastors, really the same questions could almost apply. I preached today about listening to God -- and specifically focused on the need for stopping long enough to listen; that is, taking sabbath time, whether a full day or not, that involves you, your Bible, and even a pen and journal as a way of engaging and being engaged with God. What makes it easiest for you to discern his voice? I'd especially be interested in the viewpoint of those who aren't pastors on the value and role of listening to sermons in all of this. Do sermons regularly make it easier for you to discern God's leading in your life or do you find that you hear God more clearly through your quiet time? As a pastor, I can sometimes wonder whether what I bring to the pulpit hits or misses and why or why not.

My hope and prayer is that over the next few weeks my ears will become more and more open -- and that I can still my heart and mind long enough to listen! This is definitely something I need to do a lot of before I can do any more talking once I return to the pulpit in September.

Back in the Pew

Something that I really miss is being able to listen to other people preach. As a pastor, it's an incredible treat and privilege to hear sermons delivered by anyone other than me. For years listening to good biblical messages was what I enjoyed most about going to church. I can still recall what it was like to hear for the first time a Baptist pastor preach (I was raised Catholic) and how amazed I was at the time and care they had obviously put into their message. As a former Catholic, I was more accustomed to homilies or brief sermonettes that rarely delved deeply into the biblical text. The message itself may very well have been biblical, but I never came away with a better understand of a specific text.

This coming Sunday is my last until mid-September. For three Sundays in a row I'm on vacation; and it's often when I'm on vacation that I get the chance to hear other pastors' sermons. I am truly looking forward to it.

These days, of course, going to church isn't the only way to hear sermons. You can listen to (and see) plenty of sermons online. This past week, partly through the initial prompting of my mother-in-law, I listened to some online sermons; and I was blessed, for the most part, by what I heard. While most folks only hear one, maybe two, sermons a week, I found myself listening to several. Probably around 5 or 6. Amos 8 speaks of a "a famine . . . of hearing the words of the Lord," and while this is not what he meant, I realized this week in hearing some good messages how much I had missed being back in the pew. I realized my own hunger and need for hearing the word of God proclaimed. No wonder I listened to so many!

And it made me realize that, though I am very blessed to be a pastor, there is a genuine sense at times that I miss being back in the pew. In being a pastor, it's not at all as though I have graduated or progressed past my own need for edification; I just need to seek it through avenues other than Sunday morning worship. Although now I have to be more deliberate in seeking out ways of getting fed by the word of God.

What's funny, too, is that I can easily forget what it is like to be at the receiving end of a sermon. I can find myself convicted as well as fed, admonished as well as quenched. Some messages simply remind you of simple but crucial truths. Others point you more fully to the holiness of God. Still others challenge you to follow Jesus and to walk with him more faithfully.

And listening to other pastors' sermons challenges me in another way, also; that is, they challenge me to listen as if I were back in the pew and not another pastor. So often when I do listen to another sermon, it can be far too easy to slip into professional critique mode. In other words, I begin thinking about how good the sermon is, how effective the illustrations are, how organized the points are, etc. And I may even find myself thinking, "Hmmm, that was well done. I can apply that to my own preaching." Nothing wrong with this perhaps, but better that I listen with my heart and mind. Better that I listen for what God wants me to hear.

Then I am challenged to be more reflective at times about my own preaching. Because there are times that watching other pastors preach makes you think about your own preaching habits, your own mannerisms, style, themes that perhaps you continue to use, etc. It makes me think: what are people hearing when I preach?

All in all, hearing other pastors preach is an incredibly valuable experience on many levels. Of course, thinking about all of this brings to mind one of the things that makes me as a pastor very nervous at times -- when another preacher is visiting our church and I'm the one preaching! Because then I know that just as I watch other preachers with a critical and evaluative eye, so they must be watching me. That can induce a little holy fear! I can only hope that those preachers, in finding themselves back in the pew, listen to me and hear not only my flaws and mistakes but also God's word proclaimed faithfully. I can't ask for much more!

Clutter

We all have them.

It can be a room, a shed, a drawer, a closet, maybe even a large chunk of our basement. We all have places where we dump stuff that, right now, we don't have time to organize and put away properly. How many of us have a so-called "junk drawer"? And how many of us close the doors to certain rooms of our house when people drop by? And how many of us fear anyone getting a look at our basements?

Well, while we probably have more than one space like this in our house, our spare bedroom no doubt wins the prize for the most disorganized, cluttered, utterly disastrous space in our home. Rarely do we ever have anyone who needs to sleep in there -- even my mother-in-law prefers our couch to the mattress in the spare room -- so it's become this sort of catch-all-don't-have-time-to-get-this-put-in-its-proper-spot area.

That is, until today.

Today we began the process of straightening up this room. A couple of the bigger pieces of furniture we're going to stick in the basement (don't even go there!). And my wife is getting a second hand corner desk that will help us organize much of what is in that room -- namely, all of her scrapbooking stuff.

I really love my mother-in-law, because she really helped me get into that spare room today. We don't have a large house, so sometimes space becomes an issue. But she's quite good at thinking about things in an efficient and organized way in a way that my wife and I are not -- or that we sometimes don't take the time to think about!

And I have to tell you, there's no feeling like getting something accomplished, especially in getting your house straightened up or even a room or, yes, even part of a room.

But we all end up with clutter. We all have junk drawers. Or closets. Or rooms. Not everything that clutters up a room or drawer is necessarily something to be tossed, but it's amazing to me how many things we keep hanging onto on the off chance that someday it might prove useful.

I've heard of some people who are addictive collectors, and how they can barely get around their house because of the stacks of magazines, old newspapers, books, and knick-knacks that they keep buying on the Shopping Channel. Most of us, thank goodness, are not that bad off. We should pray for those we know who are!

Yet even for the rest of us who do not accumulate clutter obsessively, we can never permanently get rid of clutter. No matter how clean we've gotten a room, no matter how proud we are of how neat and tidy we've gotten it, quite often, over time, it ends up back in the same state before our whirlwind of energetic housework. Case in point: this is not the first time we've cleaned the spare bedroom. I can think of at least two other distinct occasions when we've attacked the clutter in there. And we've only been here three years! I guess it often gets ignored for the sake of the rooms that we use more frequently.

Anyway, I guess this is true with us also. We accumulate emotional clutter. We all have hearts that are sometimes in desperate need of a good tidying up -- and no doubt several times over the course of our lives. We just get done straightening up one room, and we turn and see dust bunnies and clutter in another. It seems neverending.

But thankfully much of our own clutter we don't have to deal with on our own. Sometimes even other Christians are quite capable with brooms, mops, and dishrags. Other people can help us with our clutter. And God, it turns out, is the best housecleaner. He not only helps take care of the clutter but also shows us ways of preventing it from accumulating so easily and quickly.

Through the Magnifying Glass

This coming Sunday I'm preaching about magnifying God. Originally, my thought had been to preach on praise using one of the Psalms (96, 98, or 145, though are many like these to choose from). And I was thinking about praise and worship and asking myself, "What is the importance of praising God? What is the importance of singing together as a congregation to God?" We are invited to praise, called to praise, and commanded to praise. But why? One reason is that, of course, God deserves our praise. He is worthy of our praise. But that reason alone doesn't seem to make praise personal enough.

Then I ended up watching these videos (here, here, and here) and that, plus having to focus on God while also having to deal with some personal worries, led me to think of one word: magnify. I found a definition of magnification that reads this way: “Magnification is the process of enlarging something only in appearance, not in physical size; magnification of the image does not change the perspective of the image.” I looked up the definition because I guess I had never really thought about what it really means to magnify God before. But it seems to me that it is the notion of magnification that gets us closer to why we come to God with our praise and worship.

What we magnify doesn’t actually get any larger, but it does to our eyes. It appears larger. Applied to God, this means that in magnifying God we do not, indeed cannot, add to God or enlarge him in any way. But what we do in magnifying God is we enlarge him in our own eyes, in our minds, and in our hearts and lives. Magnifying God is something we do because God deserves to be magnified. He deserves our adoration, our worship, and our praise.

There are many things in our lives that get magnified: personal troubles, financial struggles, health issues, family and relationship conflicts, and possessions. We call this blowing things out of proportion or making mountains out of molehills. We are all prone to doing this. I do this, and I suspect none of us is immune to magnifying lots of things in our lives—we’re all guilty of making various things appear larger than they are in reality.

But when we do this, one thing—someone—often gets reduced in size: God. Sometimes God ends up looking pretty small to us and ends up being small compared to everything else going on around us and in us. Cares and circumstances reduce God to a bit player in our lives, when not only is he supposed to be the major player in our lives but the director of our lives.

Or maybe God gets de-magnified in another way. Over the years sometimes we grow pretty familiar with church routine. We’ve heard all the hymns and praise songs, so we end up singing them by rote. We’ve heard sermons countless times, it seems, and the pastor rarely brings something fresh to the pulpit. The significance of the Bible stories we read lessen in impact because of repetition. And perhaps some of us as a result have reduced God to being no bigger than our experience of church.

God is already infinitely larger and greater than we can ever hope or imagine or understand. But he doesn’t always seem that way to our eyes. By proclaiming his greatness, his wonderful deeds, and his awesome character, by lifting our praises heavenward with expectant hearts, he will be magnified; that is, our perception of him will enlarge to better reflect who he really is. I also found this quotation on magnifying God, which I think is great. There's not much I can really add to it (though on Sunday I'll try!):

“Devout Christians are not exempt from not realizing the greatness of God. They may love the Lord and serve Him faithfully yet be so overwhelmed by their circumstances and fail to see that God is bigger. Magnifying God means seeing his greatness and superiority over every aspect of our lives. It means seeing God as being greater than any obstacle or challenge that comes our way. Magnifying God means proclaiming God's greatness and superiority over every aspect of our lives. God is magnified through praise for it proclaims his greatness and mighty acts (Ps 86:12, 13). Praise magnifies God in our eyes by reminding us of what he has done (Ps 107). It is the magnifying glass through which we see God's greatness. A magnifying glass does not make anything bigger that it really is but only magnified in our eyes (perception). In like manner, God is already great and magnified in the universe but through the magnifying glass of praise, so to speak, he is magnified in our eyes (perception) as well."

And, really, magnifying God is almost synonymous with praising God. In fact, until this week it never really occurred to me to think of magnifying God as anything other than a synonym for praising God. But for me the penny dropped when I realized that having God magnified is the result of our praise and worship and ought to be one of the reasons and motivations for our worship. And so all of the questions I had about praise -- like, why do we do it? -- were essentially answered. For some of you, this insight may not be new, but for me it feels pretty fresh. I just never thought of it this before. All I can say is that I found myself feeling quite grateful for how God helped me see this.

So, let me ask you: in what ways do you find God reduced in your eyes? How do you magnify God in your life? Does your experience of praising God in worship enable you to magnify him? I'd love to hear anyone else's thoughts on this.

Vacation: Part One and a Half

We just got back from a week of vacation on Saturday evening. Though the week was humid and downright wet at times, we still enjoyed our time at the camp. I managed to finish a couple of books -- a rarity these days! -- and we played a couple of new games, Boggle Jr. and Therapy, a few times. As you can probably guess Boggle Jr. is a game we bought for us and our three-year old, while Therapy is purely fun for adults. Once Ella did join us, and she got bored much more quickly than we did! She returned to playing with dinkie cars.

We're no longer on vacation but last night (Sunday night) we arrived at my Mom and Step-Dad's for my Mom's birthday. We definitely wanted to give her a specific surprise gift in person (more on that later!). So we stayed the night too since today is a stat holiday and because I usually take Mondays off anyway. We don't get to see my folks as often so it's nice to visit and have a little more time with them. Even as I type, the rest of them are playing Boggle Jr. together. And in the background is the newest Barenaked Ladies CD, Snacktime, their first kids album. Ella loves it! It's one of those rare kids albums that doesn't exhaust a parent's patience after the first or second listen.

We do have some more vacation time coming right after Baptist Convention Assembly (now called Oasis: Refreshment for the Journey). While this past week was nice, that will be the real vacation; we'll have two weeks that includes three Sundays off. Since the fall will be busy, I know our vacation will be much needed.

One of the things I mentioned to my in-laws while visiting with them this past week at their camp is that in my experience it takes time for vacation to set in. That is, it is easier to be on vacation physically than mentally. While I can be at the camp (or wherever) my mind can sometimes still be on work related matters. This is especially true since the line between ministry and personal faith is not always easy to separate. That's a topic for another time, however. So I pray that I will be able to truly get away: body, heart, mind, and soul. And I'm just grateful for times of rest, when I can take off my watch and kick back. I'm grateful that God has provided us with seasons in more ways than one.

Vacation: Part One

I may post again before the weekend is out but this coming week I'm officially on vacation. So this is just a brief note before a potential week-long absence. If we spend this week's vacation time as we're hoping at my in-laws lake-side camp (rustic but restful!), I will not have access to the internet.

Actually, though, most of my congregation won't even notice that we are on vacation. And that's because it's more of a semi-vacation. That is, I'm preaching this Sunday and next Sunday but taking off in between. So I do have to work on a sermon during vacation but I'll be doing so in more vacation-like settings.

And why would I work my vacation in this way? I have three weeks vacation altogether coming to me and I'll be taking two more weeks off (which will encompass three Sundays) toward the end of August and into the first week of September. Taking three full weeks together wouldn't have worked as well, because, first, we prefer taking vacation in August and early September so that we experience a break between summer and fall. Second, our denomination's annual assembly gathering also happens in late August. In fact, the first night of our second stretch of vacation begins the day this assembly ends. But this means we can't take three straight weeks in August off because this asssembly officially counts as work for me. And, third, it works nicely because the last day of our denominational assembly is also our actual wedding anniversary. And since we're staying in a lovely bed and breakfast for our time at assembly, we booked an additional night for our anniversary. Works out well, especially since at this time our little girl will be with her grandparents!

I like the chance to laze around without too much regard for the clock, taking extra time to read, playing guitar while my daughter sings, hiking, camping, whatever, and that's precisely what vacation is for. I look forward to time with my family that will be largely uninteruppted (I say largely because, of course, we can never anticipate everything). I do have a dream vacation in my mind but it's not one we can really afford at the moment. It's nothing particularly exotic -- just staying in a beachside cottage for a week or two. My in-laws camp has been a mainstay during our vacations ever since we got married, and while I most definitely appreciate it, there are times when I would appreciate more a similar setting that included running water and electicity! Like I said earlier, the camp is rustic!

Anyway, I likely won't be posting again until next weekend or thereafter. I may post tomorrow, but that depends on how quickly sermon prep goes. I also have to choose music for our service. That all comes first. Here's praying that unplugging (in more ways than one!) for a week does me, and my family, some good!

Zzzzzzzzz . . .

Yesterday I woke up at around 5am and, inexplicably, stayed up. I had the bright idea of not going back to bed even though I had only gotten to bed the night before shortly after midnight. So I hadn't had a lot of sleep. Nevertheless, I felt fairly alert so up I was!

Around 7am I was sitting in one of the more comfortable chairs in our house and trying to pray -- except that after a little while, I found myself dozing, my mind wandering, distractions and random thoughts crowding out my more earnest and heart-felt petitions. And it wasn't much of a surprise given my state of restedness or not. But, still, on the whole I had a pretty good day. I even put together a decent outline for my sermon. I ran some errands. I prepared for Sunday morning's worship service. I had time with my family.

Eventually, of course, night arrived, and I went to bed. Well, I went to bed later than I should have (does anyone else do this?). And the next day, while I woke up at a decent hour, I still felt tired. Nevertheless, I trudged off to my office anyway. I attempted to work on my sermon, I tried reading my Bible, and, inevitably, was unsuccessful. Inevitably? The bottom line, I believe, is that my previous day's decision to stay up when I woke up so early (early for those of us who aren't farmers!) was catching up with me. I know this also because when I went upstairs from my office to our church sanctuary to pray, I found myself more than distracted. I very nearly fell asleep while sitting in one of our sanctuary chairs! Needless to say, it wasn't the most productive morning. My afternoon was better, but mostly because I wasn't attempting to do desk work but instead cleaned our car, ran a couple more errands, and helped my wife do some housework.

Rest is key to work, I was reminded. Without it, the brain can't function as it should. Thoughts are muddy. Prayers meander and even peter out. Reading leads to a pair of glazed over eyes. Physical rest, especially, is important. It's amazing how concentration is effected by the lack of it. All I know is that next time I get the notion to stay up when it's that early, I will suppress that impulse. This is especially true when the night before I got to bed fairly late. More waking hours doesn't necessarily mean more work done!

This life which is not your own . . .

I'm pretty darn certain that God sometimes smiles and, yes, even laughs.

And I say this now because of the contrast between life as a I know it right now and life as I once knew it as a university student. You see, when I was a university student (a period of time which consumed most of my 20s), I was also single. But for a few odd dates and eventually getting engaged to the woman who is now my beloved wife during my last year at school, I was essentially quite monkish while pursuing the academic path. Of course, as I often joked with other single friends, it's one thing to voluntarily choose a monk-like vow of singleness, it's quite another to have it thrust upon you! And for much of that time it felt thrust upon me. Especially once I was working on a PhD (and thus working on the end of my 20s!), I really began to feel a longing to settle down and have a family -- of course, I would have to have at least one date, right? Anyway, though single, I was not altogether content with that circumstance.

Now as it happens life as a single student also had its perks. For instance, my time was my own. There was no one in my life who was making demands on my time and schedule. Apart from my obvious responsibilities as a grad student, I was free. Not to mention the fact that, technically, I had more expendable income. (Granted, most of that "income" was from student loans, a rather depressing and anxiety-inducing topic all its own deserving its own post-entry.) Ostensibly, some might say I had it made. Answerable to no one, I was a bachelor, a single guy in his late 20s who had all the time in the world.

Why did I hate it so much then? Well, like I said, I wasn't so crazy about being single.

Now, as a husband and a father, very little of my time is my own. My routines are largely determined by the responsibilities these relationships entail. Not to say that I resent this -- not at all! -- but simply to say that life then and now are very different. And the crazy thing is sometimes, at least once in awhile, I long for a time when I had more me time. I guess that's not so crazy. No doubt everyone feels that way on occasion. But I look back on my university years and envy, at least in part, the freedom I had. Therein lies the rub: I find myself now wishing for more of what I had then, even though then I wanted what I have now. Nuts, eh?

As much as I love my family, and I truly, deeply do, like anyone else I can experience that need for space, a space within which I can't hear -- or don't have to listen to -- the loud noises of my daughter and the sounds that are a part of family life. Nothing abnormal about that, I think. And truth be told, I hardly long to return to my student days. My goal is to have something in between the two.

But in thinking about the difference between my life then and my life now, I think my life now more clearly reflects on what God's will for our lives is. That is, he intends for us to be ensconced (great word, eh?) in relationships of sufficient depth and intimacy that we have our inherent selfishness squeezed out of us. To have all my time -- and indeed my life -- to myself is to deprive myself of experiences which draw me out of myself and closer to the other -- whether the otherness of people or the otherness of God.

Truth is, my life has never been and never will be my own. It doesn't matter whether I have one hour or ten hours of free me time in a given week, my life and my time are God's. It's hard to practice that sometimes, however. But married life and life as a father definitely provide solid training ground in that holy reality. Certainly, these aren't the only relationships where God can teach us and shape us and make us into who he wants us to be. They are where God has led me, I'm glad to say.

In the meantime, I do wonder if God laughs when, having received from him all I was longing for when a student, I find my longings momentarily regressing. Who knows? All I know is that I don't have much time to worry about it!

Confessions . . .

Jesus once told his followers, and in having told them also tells us, "Be perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect." That's a high standard, one that taken literally is too high for most of us to meet. It helps, therefore, to know that the word translated "perfect" doesn't so much refer to moral perfection as it does "wholeness." That said, we're still obligated to live up to a high standard. Those of us who follow Jesus are probably quite aware that "all have sinned and fallen short of God's glory," and, in fact, that a life of holiness is one of gradual, incremental progress. We make our way along the path of discipleship in fits and starts; and this we do only by the power of God working in and through us. All this to say that as Christians we are still called to a life of repentance, contrition, and confession. Perhaps perfection lies partly in our willingness to be repentant, express contrition, and make confession.

Acknowledging our sins and failures, in many cases, can only happen in the closet of the individual believer or within the confines of a close-knit community or small-group. Confession even to another believer, a fellow brother or sister in Christ, needs to be done with discretion; not everyone can be trusted with the secrets of our hearts. That said, public confession, even if of a more general kind, should be a regular part of our worship. Failing to do so means both disregarding our proclivity for wrongdoing and our desperate need for grace.

Even I need to make confession. Pastors are hardly exempt from the need for a repentant life. Though Scripture does have a high standard for Christian leaders, this doesn't mean that we do not struggle with sin, temptation, and therefore need to avail ourselves often of God's mercy and willingness to heal and forgive, love and restore. Each day is a journey of faith, one fraught with potential downfalls and possible victories; and only with God's Spirit can we hope to have more of the latter than the former. This is as true of me as it is of any other person who confesses Christ as Lord.

I find that there are moments and occasions when I am very much aware of my own sinfulness and of all the ways that I fall short of God's glory. And I'm not speaking of moral failure necessarily, but mostly of all the ways that I experience brokenness through my relationships and in how I treat and live with those around me.

And so . . .

I confess that I fall short when it comes to my relationship with Christ. This happens when I fail to give sufficient time and energy to prayer. Instead, I opt to do other things. I will avoid reading Scripture on occasion and, worse, will avoid obeying Scripture. There are times when I only relectantly trust in Christ. Basically, I know that I am still very much in the process of being made whole in Christ, and that I am the one who inhibits this growth.

I confess that I fall short in my relationship with my wife. Even my best moments are still tainted by selfishness and pride. I sometimes want my wife to conform to my unrealistic expectations. I wrongly judge her by these expectations. Sometimes I fail to see her for who she is and love her for that.

I confess that I fall short in my relationship with my daughter. At times I can be impatient with her childishness, with behaviour on her part that is natural to her age, but is sometimes irritating to me. I forget sometimes, too, that the reason I am irritated is not because of her but because I am overtired or in a bad mood. But I still take it out on her by being short with her.

I confess that I fall short in my relationship with people in my church. As a pastor, I will disappoint and perhaps even fail people in my church. It's harder to pinpoint my failures here, but I think that sometimes I look at my church as a homogenous whole rather than a collection of unique individuals. I also know that I don't always manage to get around and connect with people consistently enough.

Truthfully, none of what I've said comes close to portraying my propensity for putting myself ahead of others. That's partly so because some of my sin I will only confess to God and those closest to me. But it's also so because my words will always be insufficient to describe my own sin and its effects on those around me. But I say all of this anyway, because I too am in need of forgiveness. I too need Christ to make me new. I too need the power of the Spirit because I cannot live by my own strength.

Wholeness in Christ only happens over time and, this side of glory, will always be incomplete. And so in the meantime, we confess. We confess our lack of holiness, our tendency to sin, how we are, head to foot, selfish creatures too thinly veiled with cultural goodness. But, of course, thankfully we can do so expectantly, hopefully, prayerfully, knowing full-well that our God is gracious and quick to forgive us when come to him with hearts of contrition. It is this -- God's immeasurable goodness and infinite power to provide healing and reconciliation -- that propels us to confess, both to him and to one another.

Chasing Butterflies

We all need to play sometimes. That's something my daughter, Ella, teaches me very well.

A number of weeks ago, on a beautiful Saturday, she and I were having fun outside playing catch, ball, chase, and run. Chase and run are very similar games, one involving running to see who is the fastest and the other involving who can run the fastest to a specific location! I try to let her win as much as possible. It's actually more fun that way!

Well, on this particular day while we were playing ball, I noticed a butterfly flying behind Ella. So I pointed this out to her. And no sooner did she see it then she began chasing it. I remember her saying something like, "Daddy, let's get it!" And in her mind, this is not an altogether unrealistic goal! (She once caught a chicken when someone told her she couldn't, so there is precedent! That story will have to wait.) But of course she didn't get catch the butterfly; however, she really had a good time chasing it.

I find it particularly cool how my little girl can get lost in useless play and take me along with her. Obviously, there's no practical reason to chase butterflies (though I suppose it develops hand-eye coordination) and there needn't be one. Just chasing it, laughing all the while, is the point. That's what it's all about.

We adults don't always play very well. Everything has to have a practical reason or application. All grown up, we live often for utility. Rather than laugh with children at play, instead we laugh at children at play, at the fact that one day they too will have to put away childish things and grow up. But I'm not convinced anymore that play is childish -- though it is definitely child-like, and perhaps we need something of that in our lives more regularly.

There is something about time spent being child-like, either with children or without, in that it's only about time spent laughing, playing, having fun, and the sheer lack of utility found in joy. It's useless time in the best sense of the word. Splashing around in the pool with my three-year old girl has no further end than getting one another wet and finding ourselves giggling helplessly at our own hijnks.

Sometimes, I must confess, when I encounter some adults -- people my own age and older -- I find myself thinking now that they too could use a little more time chasing butterflies.

Object Impermanence

When I was a kid -- I can't rememeber how old I was -- I had a special toy. It was one of those "dinkie" cars, as we called them. But it wasn't just any "dinkie" car; it was the General Lee from The Dukes of Hazzard. It was new, shiny, and very much treasured by me. And one day I went outside to play, and I stuck this toy in my jeans pocket. There it remained, until the end of the day. Much to my utter disappointment and dismay, when I took this valued possession out of my pocket later on it was no longer as shiny as it had been. There were scratches on the paint. It was no longer new. I was so disappointed!

I think that part of me had this hope that my most treasured possessions -- at this age this usually meant toys and comic books -- would always be with me, ready at a moment's notice to give me pleasure and provide enjoyment.

At a very young age, children learn what's called object permanence. It's the understanding that even though a given object is out of view that it still exists. You can hide the ball from the toddler, but they still realize that the ball exists even if they can't lay their eyes on it.

On that day when my General Lee "dinkie" car was scratched up and damaged -- and my illusion of it's permanence shattered -- I learned something akin to this: object impermanence, that no objects in this world, none of our possessions, no matter how deeply treasured, are forever.

Ella, too, learned this recently. It happened on more than one occasion, but the one I remember is when she was playing with Thomas and Friends adhesives, re-usable stickers that are meant for window surfaces. The problem with these stickers is, when you stick them to one another, the ink gets peeled off. On this and a couple of other occasions, Ella asked me why something, one of her belongings, was no longer as it was or working as it used to. And so I told her that it was damaged or broken. Now she didn't cry or anything. She wasn't so much upset by this as she was curious about it. I could look in her eyes and see her processing this new knowledge. And I can only pray that we can help her turn this new-found knowledge into wisdom.

In Luke 12 Jesus tells his disciples not to worry about possessions, about what they need to live, that God, knowing full well what we need, can be trusted to provide them. In admonishing his disciples this way, Jesus shows us that he knows well our prediliction to strive for material possessions. Ultimately, Jesus is directing us to recognize the impermanence of such objects: "Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

Kids, including my little girl, can get much joy out of and put much into their toys and possessions. I suppose adults are the same; the toys just get bigger and more expensive. But we have to guard our hearts and be wary of treasuring anything that will not last. As one song says, "I never saw a U-Haul being pulled behind a hearse." Doing so keeps us from trusting God as we should, and it keeps us from valuing his Kingdom more than the things of this world. I have to continually be reminded of this too. And only when such a truth becomes more a part of me will my daughter's knowledge that her toys will not last be transformed into a life-giving wisdom that trusts more in the Creator than in any of his creations.

Screen-Time

This, I think, is the longest I've gone without posting since February. A combination of getting busy with other things, various distractions, etc., is the reason for my absence. Not that many out there were anxiously awaiting the uploading of any new reflections on my part. It's also summer, which means that life tends to take on a different sense of rhythm. We're trying, as a family, to enjoy more time together. For me, one of those crucial things enabling us to share such time are trips to one or other of the various beaches we have within driving distance. What I like about the beach is that there is nothing to do there except play in the sand with my daughter, watch my wife play in the sand with my daughter, read, maybe play guitar, and generally lie around, enjoy a cold drink, some snacks, and, most times, take the opportunity to video-tape snippets for our home movie collection.

We've also, as a family, made a new rule for the summer: reduced TV time. That is, we've all agreed to choose one video a week to watch. So far the day for videos is Friday. In case you think such a rule unrealistic, there are a few caveats: first, if Ella, our three year old, is visiting someone else, she's allowed to watch TV (say, at her grandparents' house). Second, if my wife and daughter are away for a day or two, daddy gets to watch TV. Though I still try to keep it to a minimum. Third, home movies are the exception. Within reason, we can have home movies on more often. This is good because over the last couple of weeks I've been transferring our homes movies to DVD.

What's surprising is that our little Ella hasn't found this discipline as challenging as I would have thought. You see, almost everyday she would watch a couple of videos. Moreover, it was often the first thing she would ask for when she woke up. "I want to watch a video," she would tell me. And on many occasions I would agree, if only to give myself more time to myself, to get breakfast, etc. And my wife and I also haven't found it terribly hard either. Only when they're not home for a couple of days, which happens with some regularity since my in-laws live reasonably close, do I give into the impulse to put an end to the uncomfortable silence that pervades the house with their absence. Yet even then, it's often not so much because I want to but out of habit or just because . . . like I said, the house is quiet and empty without them.

What's also surprising is how much we can enjoy a video or TV when we watch it but how little we actually miss it when we don't have it. When I was in university I used to watch a lot of TV. My roommates and I always had cable TV. And then one year I found myself with a small, 10 inch TV and no cable. All I had was one or two channels, and in poor quality. But I never missed it. Quite a comment on our habits that we can spend so much time on something that ultimately we hardly think about when it's not available or when we make a conscious decision to limit our use of it.

I wonder if we could apply that same logic to computer screen-time? And just when I got back into posting!

Preaching Through a Series: Part 3

Here's the sermon I preached today. It's the third in my series on the eight quality characteristics from NCD -- inspiring worship -- though I sort of talk more about the purpose of worship. Hope it feeds you heart and mind.

“The Why of Worship”
1 Chronicles 16:23 – 34; 1 Corinthians 14:26 – 33

Introduction—Why worship?

Ella’s now at the point—that favourite stage for all parents!—where it seems one of her favourite questions is, “Why?” And sometime she’ll ask that question, but I won’t know how to answer! So, like the good daddy that I am, I resort to that ol’ standby, “Because!” Well, that’s not a very good answer. As I found out from Alisha and her Mum, “Because is not the why of something!”

And we all ask that question sometimes—“Why?” But usually we’re more specific. For instance, we’ll be somewhere and ask ourselves, “Why am I here?” Have you ever been in a church service and asked, “Why am I here?” Now if you asked yourself that this morning, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know!

We’re told in Hebrews 10:25 not to give up meeting together for corporate worship. But why do we worship? Why are we here today? No doubt if anyone asks us why we go to church, we’ll say, “To worship.” This just begs the question. And we can’t just say, “Because,” because “because is not the why of something.”

I once heard worship described this way: Worship is our response to what God has done for us in Jesus Christ. But how do we respond to what God has done for us in Jesus? One of the eight quality characteristics of Natural Church Development is an “inspiring worship service.” In using the word “inspiring” to describe the kind of worship service a healthy church has, it’s saying that the worship service is an enjoyable experience for people. But as I was thinking about this, I began to ask myself, what is the purpose of worship? Why do we get together to sing songs, listen to sermons, and pray? So we’re going to talk about “the why of worship” this morning. I have three “why we worship” reasons: to glorify God; to edify one another; and to reach out to others.

To Glorify God

Whenever someone we know does something well or something right one of the things we try and do is praise her or him. That is, we take time to recognize his or her accomplishment or achievement. Sometimes we even applaud—we literally clap!—to show our appreciation for what she or he has done. We’ve done this with Ella. We often do this if someone sings a song in church. And I’m sure that we’ve all done this with our kids, grand-kids or great grand-kids or someone else when they’ve deserved it.

Such praise is healthy and good and expresses our appreciation or enjoyment of what someone else has done. This is like telling a waitress, “My compliments to the chef for the wonderful meal!” We can hardly have fully enjoyed and appreciated who God is and what God has done until we praise him—until we glorify him through our worship. And indeed the first purpose of worship is to glorify God.

In the Westminster Larger Catechism, which was written in the 17th century, the very first question asked is this: “What is the chief end of man?” In other words, what is our first and most important purpose for being here? What ought to be our highest goal and deepest aspiration? The answer the Catechism gives is this: “Man’s chief and highest end is to glorify God, and fully to enjoy him forever.”

Our passage from 1 Chronicles 16 tells us the same thing: “Sing to the Lord . . . Declare his glory among the nations . . . For great is the Lord and greatly to be praised . . . Ascribe to the Lord the glory due his name . . . Worship the Lord in holy splendor.” This is why we sing—to focus our attention on God by praising who he is and what he has done. There are lots of other biblical passages that call us to worship God, to praise him, to glorify him in song. The apostle Paul also tells the Ephesians to “make music from your heart to the Lord.”

Marva Dawn, in her book on worship A Royal “Waste” of Time, says “the entire reason for our worship is that God deserves it.” But he doesn’t need it. When I praise Ella for something she’s done right or well, this will help her grow in confidence; it will make her feel better about herself. That’s not why we praise God. We do so because he deserves it. With all that he’s done for us—and because of who he is—he is worthy of our praise.

Praising him also focuses our attention on him. This gets our minds off ourselves. When we come here on a Sunday morning, we come loaded down with our cares, concerns, distractions, our real and felt needs, our hopes and expectations of the worship service and one another. Focusing on God gets us back on track by helping us realize that God is bigger than all our problems.

Focusing on God by praising and worshipping him also gets our minds off other people in the church for a moment—I’m not here to be distracted why this person or that person irritates me. Have you ever been distracted by someone else during a worship service?

I heard a story about the Italian poet Dante Alighieri. Deeply immersed in meditation during a church service, he failed to kneel at the appropriate moment. Remember, this was a Catholic Mass, which involves more standing and kneeling and sitting than we are used to! Well, when they saw this, his enemies hurried to the bishop and demanded that Dante be punished for his sacrilege. Dante defended himself by saying, “If those who accuse me had had their eyes and minds on God, as I had, they too would have failed to notice events around them, and they most certainly would not have noticed what I was doing.”

Worship, first and foremost, is about having our eyes and minds on God. And so we come to worship God—to praise and glorify him—to remind ourselves that worship—our gathering together on a Sunday morning as a congregation—is not about us; it’s about him. Sometimes, but not always, we think and act more like Dante’s enemies than Dante. Worship helps correct that tendency.

So when I deliberately follow Scripture’s commands to “sing to the Lord,” “ascribe to the Lord the glory due his name,” and “worship the Lord in holy splendor,” I am fulfilling the Lord’s command and the purpose for which he has made me: To glorify him and fully to enjoy him forever; for to glorify God is the first and most important purpose of worship.

To think about this practically, perhaps we can ask ourselves the following question: When coming into a worship service, do you ever feel prepared to worship or are you usually distracted? Distractions can be good or bad—a bad situation at home or a good conversation with a fellow church-goer can both equally distract. Preparing for worship is a part of worship. How can we prepare ourselves to worship? Perhaps a few moments of prayer and quiet. Perhaps listening to Christian music before the service begins. It is important to prepare ourselves if possible because in preparing ourselves we are also reminding ourselves that God comes first and not us.

To Edify One Another

One of the things I love is when we have a church service where a bunch of people are participating—someone is reading Scripture, someone is doing the children’s story, someone sings a special song, someone offers a testimony to what God has been doing in their life. So while I know that there is a certain—but flexible!—time constraint on a Sunday morning service, my general policy is “the more the merrier”!

And biblically speaking “the more the merrier” principle also applies. The very first verse of our passage from 1 Corinthians says this: “What should be done then, my friends? When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation.”

Someone told me about a conversation they once had. This person happened to comment to a friend that they thought the pastor should have to preach on Sunday morning and nothing else, that other members of the congregation should jointly cover whatever else a worship service involves. Someone else should pray. Someone else should lead in worship. Someone else should do the children’s story. Their friend disagreed and suggested that the pastor should do everything on a Sunday morning—that is, after all, why he is being paid! The other person, surprised at this, asked their friend, “What do you want from your pastor?” And their friend replied, “I want his blood!”

But this isn’t the biblical picture. Like Paul says, “When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation . . .” Paul’s assumption is that several people participate in a worship service. Paul assumes the “more the merrier principle.”

Why is this important? Paul also says, “Let all things be done for building up.” The idea of building up means to edify—this means to encourage and strengthen others in their faith. This is the second purpose of worship: To edify one another. We all know this from experience that a worship service with more people participating, whatever gifts they bring, is always a more enjoyable experience than a service where only a few are involved. This is how a church is built, not out of wood, concrete, and glass, but out of people worshipping God and edifying one another. And “the more the merrier!”

Maybe there is some way you can encourage someone else in the church today. Maybe you have a talent or a gift that you think would strengthen the faith of those around you. Or perhaps you can think of something we can add to the worship service that would make it more edifying to others, something that would make coming together more enjoyable. If so, let me know! The more the merrier because when we edify one another, we become stronger Christians, a stronger church, and God is glorified.

To Reach Out to Others

When I was going to Acadia Divinity College, I found out that it didn’t always have the greatest reputation with the rest of the campus. It was sometimes perceived as this closed-off, out of the way building at the top of the campus. There was often very little engagement or interaction between students at the college and the students of the university. To some extent, this does make some sense, since there was no overlap in classes and many students at the college also have family and church responsibilities in addition to studies. But the college still ended up getting labelled by some “the holy huddle up the hill.”

The last thing any Christian community should be is a “holy huddle on a hill.” Instead, Jesus calls us to be a lamp on a lamp-stand, a city on a hill, and the light of the world in whatever town, city, village, of local service district we find ourselves in. The very presence of a church ought to make a difference to a community. If it doesn’t, something is wrong. If a church can close and lock its doors without most of the community noticing, much less caring, something has gone wrong. Such a church has become a “holy huddle.”

I said earlier that the Westminster Catechism’s description of our ultimate purpose is “To glorify God and fully to enjoy him forever.” Put simply, we are all created to worship. But not everyone worships God. What do we to do about this? Do we remain in our “holy huddle” edifying one another? If we do this, is it still possible for us and our worship to honour and glorify God?

If the first purpose of worship is to glorify God, and the second is to edify one another, then the third is to reach out to others. I want to suggest this morning that an important fruit of our worship is evangelism. But we often hear the word “evangelism” and are intimidated. I know that I can feel this way. Believe me, not all pastors naturally share their faith in Jesus in casual conversation! But even if none of us here is an evangelist, we are still called, according to 2 Timothy 4:5, to do the work of evangelism, the work of reaching others with the love of Jesus.

But how do we reach out? This is why Natural Church Development talks about need-oriented evangelism—reaching out to our community in ways that serve the people in our neighbourhood. So rather than think of terms like “evangelism” and “witnessing,” think instead of someone who runs a repair shop for bicycles out of the church; think of a church that restores a run-down playground and ballpark for use by all the community; or think of a church that welcomes people who have just moved into the community with a welcome basket or a fresh-baked pie. Such things open the doors of the church to the wider community and opens us up to relationships with people in the community. These are some ways any church can get out of its “holy huddle” and show others the love of God. And these are things that those who of us who are shy about verbally sharing our faith can do.

And of course when we reach out to others, our motivation ought to be to lead others to worship and glorify God. Jesus says in the Sermon on the Mount, “Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” Worship should lead to our reaching out to others and reaching out to others hopefully leads to more worship!

Conclusion

I said at the start that I once heard worship described as our response to what God has done for us in Jesus Christ. So if we ever wonder why we worship, I think that gives us a good start. These words from Titus 3:3 – 7 give us a really good head-start too:

“At one time we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another. But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life.”

You know, Titus is not one of those books we talk about very much, but that passage gives us as good a description of our salvation in Christ as any other. And while nothing in these verses describe or define worship per se, the passage does give us the reason why we worship at all. It reinforces that definition of worship I mentioned: Worship is our response to God has done for us in Jesus Christ.

And our worshipful response happens when we take time to glorify God together through our praise and our thanksgiving, making melody with our hearts; when we edify one another, helping fellow believers grow in faith; and when we reach out to others, move out of our “holy huddle” so that others may be touched by the love of God and join with us in glorifying him; that we might, just as in Revelation all the angels of heaven do, fall down on our faces before the throne and worship God, saying, “Amen! Praise and glory and wisdom and thanks and honor and power and strength be to our God forever and ever. Amen!” As our hymn says, “To God be the glory!” Amen?

The Challenge of Ministry

Ever since becoming a pastor I've been challenged spiritually in ways that I hadn't been before. I think this is because having the responsibility to lead other Christians makes me much more aware of my own weaknesses and flaws. So if there are ways that I have still to grow spiritually, I can't very well help others grow in that way. I can't lead anyone where I haven't been.

The challenge is that perhaps as a pastor I feel more than other Christians the responsibility to grow spiritually and work on my relationship with God not only for my own sake but for the sake of others. For if as a pastor I am not growing in my own spiritual walk, if I am not active in prayer, Bible study, etc., then this will have an effect on people in my congregation. It will show up in my preaching, in my ability to minister to them spiritually, and in my attempts to build up the ministries of the church and provide leadership. If I were just another person in the pew, so to speak, I could neglect my own faith without others experiencing detrimental effects to theirs. Or so I could think.

Well, I do think so, at least to some extent, but I don't want to give the impression that pastors are a class apart from other believers. I don't want to give the impression that pastors intrinsically have more influence on other Christians than other Christians. Truth be told, probably in a lot of cases I have less influence on the people in my church than they have on one another. And if this is so, then that is as it should be in the body of Christ.

But I suppose that as a pastor I have more influence than other Christians in our congregation on the general direction, tone, sense of mission, and overall atmosphere of our church community. That can be a heavy responsibility. And given that, just like any believer, I have my own spiritual weaknesses, failings, spiritual blindspots, and more persistent temptations, there are moments when I feel the weight of it even more profoundly.

In no other vocation is personal faith so tied to one's daily responsibilities. While most Christians can go to their respective jobs and workplaces without bringing their faith directly into the picture, as a pastor there is less of a clear demarcation line between the personal and professional. They spill over into one another.

This isn't also to say that Christians who pursue other careers, jobs, employment, etc., aren't supposed to allow their faith to shine through in their relationships with co-workers and employers, but odds are they can perform their jobs just as effectively whether they do so or not. The skill set required of their position doesn't likely include prayer and biblical exegesis!

For as a pastor my primary responsibility is to devote myself to prayer and Scripture study. These two practices ought to form a large part of my "work-week." Yet if I wasn't a pastor, as a believer prayer and reading my Bible would still be a part of my daily life. It's just that I would have to work around a pre-existing job schedule. I'd have to find time for these things outside my work hours. As it is, prayer and Bible study are a part of my nine-to-five. That in itself distinguishes me as a pastor from my brothers and sisters in Christ.

Getting back to where I started, such a vocation is a spiritual challenge precisely because a personal spiritual walk is a challenge; and they are both challenges in similar ways. And even the significant distinguishing characteristic, that I pray as a part of my nine-to-five and others prayer in addition to their nine-to-five, isn't that significant after all.

I just mean that since every Christian is a member of the body of Christ, we are all responsible for one another's spiritual growth. As Paul says, we are "members of one another." To that end, we're all ministers. There is no lay person-clergy distinction. There is, but only in terms of spiritual function and level of spiritual maturity. But we are all charged with the job of helping each other follow Jesus more faithfully.

The challenge I feel as a pastor in my own spiritual walk is one that should be common to us all. It's just that as a pastor that sense of responsibility has been thrown into sharp relief. It's more pronounced is all, because it's both whom I am and what I do. If other believers in any given congregation don't feel this challenge in some measure -- a challenge to grow in their faith and to help others grow likewise -- then this speaks to their own relationship with God, and not necessarily in a positive way. Life throws lots of roadblocks and potholes in our way as we travel on the highway of faith, and sometimes this means we sidestep these challenges and instead decide simply to get along with a bare minimum. But of course, Peter tells us to "make every effort." Though the formation of Christian character and the maturation of disciples takes place through in the power of the Spirit, the Spirit can accomplish nothing of value in our lives if we are not willing to cooperate.

So I think what I said at the beginning isn't true. Not exactly. Yes, there are challenges specific to pastoral ministry. But I've always been challenged in the ways I've been talking about this whole -- challenged to pray more consistently, to read Scripture more faithfully, to follow Jesus more obediently -- and as a pastor I think I've just found that I've been challenged in these areas more deeply and more profoundly. I can't quite explain it. But, again, all Christians are rightfully challenged in these areas. Maybe as a pastor I just find myself face to face with these challenges in way that is unique to this vocation in finding myself straddling that divide between personal and professional.

As one fellow blogger often puts it, enough rambling.

Sorry, no pictures.

Thinking About Prayer: Part 4

This is the fourth installment of what has turned out to be an occasional series of reflections on prayer. Hence the title. With the first post, I hadn't intended it to be so. But prayer is one of those topics that has interested me for a long time. And so it's no surprise that I return to it time and again. In fact, my MA thesis is on prayer; specifically, on the Lord's Prayer and theologian Karl Barth's understanding of it.

Especially during the years when I was studying for my MA, I read a fair bit of Barth, a habit that has waned in more recent years. His approach to theology -- particularly his doctrine of revelation and his doctrine of the Trinity -- had already piqued my interest during my BA years and so when my systematics professor pointed out that Barth was the only major 20th century Protestant theologian to give significant attention to prayer I decided he ought to be the subject of my thesis.

One of Barth's works that nurtured both my interest in his theology and in the relationship between theology and prayer was a little book of lectures called Evangelical Theology: An Introduction. In this book Barth reflects on the task of the theologian and of theology, and in a section on the work of theology he puts prayer at the front. Today during my own prayer and devotional time, I decided to read this chapter on prayer and I found lots of wonderful food for thought, for mind and for heart.

Beginning this chapter on prayer, Barth says that

"The first and most basic act of theological work is prayer . . . [and that] theological work does not merely begin with prayer and is not merely accompanied by it; in its totality it is peculiar and characteristic of theology that it can only be performed in the act of prayer."

And as I was reading this I found myself inserting preacher or pastor when he wrote theologian and inserting preaching whenever he talked about doing theology. It was a perfect fit, of course. What he says is true of theologians and their work is also true of pastors and their work. Barth says this himself when he comments that theological work "must have the character of an offering" to God and that such theological work includes

"the tiniest problem of exegesis or dogmatics, or the clarification of the most modest fragment of the history of the Church of Jesus Christ, but, above all, if it is the preparation of a sermon, lesson, or Bible study."

I also like the fact that Barth designates preaching as theological work.

Even when you're a pastor it's not difficult to forego prayer for more busy-work. Pressure to get things done, including our sermons, lead us to neglect prayer. What ought to be the fruit of a life of prayer ends up replacing prayer in our daily routines. Sometimes I think that this is because prayer seems less useful than actually typing sermons or preparing a Bible study. And sometimes I think that this is because prayer is actually harder than preparing a sermon or Bible study. But robbing my sermons of prayer is robbing my preaching of not only its heart but its power. That is, preaching without prayer is tantamount to depending on the power of my very human words rather than depending on God's Spirit.

Knowing this, Barth writes,

"For in prayer a man temporarily turns away from his own efforts. This move is necessary precisely for the sake of the duration and continuation of his own work. Every prayer has its beginning when a man puts himself (together with his best and most accomplished work) out of the picture. He leaves himself and his work behind in order once again to recollect that he stands before God."

Great stuff. I know that I need this sort of reminding regularly. I also love this:

"A man prays, not in order to sacrifice his work or even to neglect it, but in order that may not remain or become unfruitful work, so that he may do it under the illumination and, consequently, under the rule and blessing of God."

I'm not sure if this is what Barth is getting at, but sometimes we can neglect prayer because we don't want to sacrifice our real work. We don't want to neglect what we think is more important or what may be more utilitarian concerns. No wonder Barth describes prayer as the first part of theological work. Placing it under the rubric of theological work is Barth's attempt to re-orient our thinking of what prayer actually is and how theological work -- preaching, teaching, and, indeed, the whole of the Christian life -- is theological work, properly speaking, insofar as it is the fruit of the fellowship we have with God through Jesus Christ. Put simply, a sermon is a genuine sermon only if it is borne of time spent in prayer in the presence of the God the sermon attempts to proclaim. And when this happens, when a sermon emerges from such holy communion, the sermon itself, the very act of preaching itself, is prayer-full.

So this morning, when I began to think about finishing my sermon, I stopped short of jumping right in to work on the manuscript itself. I wrote much of my sermon on Tuesday, and, technically, there is not a whole lot left to do; that is, if one just considers the outline, the points, the attempt to draw out practical application, and the illustrations, all that remains is an introduction and a conclusion, some of which I already have in note-form. Yet instead of running ahead and writing I sat and read Barth which reminded me of the importance of prayer in preaching, in ministry, and, truthfully, in life. I was convicted, too, because sometimes my attention to prayer is sporadic and inconsistent. Dare I admit this as a pastor? Either way, I am thankful that Barth reminded me that there is a great deal more to preaching, as well as theology, than a series of well-constructed sentences, paragraphs, and points. He reminded me of other things as well in this profound chapter on prayer, but rather than ramble on any more I think I'll actually spend some time following his advice: ora et labora!

"I want to want . . ."

Last night when my deacons and I met with our regional minister to discuss our NCD survey results, we talked at one point about the difference between aspirational values and actual values. Aspirational values are the values we say we have. For instance, as believers we say that we want to spend our lives serving Christ and glorifying God, but our actual values -- how we actually live and spend our time -- demonstrate that we'd often (or at least sometimes) rather live ordinary lives enjoying at least modest creature comforts without ever having to journey beyond our comfort zones.

Thinking of this tonight made me think that while I can say, "I want to serve Christ and glorify God, what I really mean is, "I want to want to serve Christ and glorify God." At least it can be that way. Even our noblest aspirations are eroded by self-interest. Realizing that so often even my desires are skewed by sin, I see that I don't always want what I should want. Sometimes this is true when we worship and sing a variety of lyrics that tend toward the aspirational rather than the actual. We express things in words, in song, that we don't altogether mean or feel. We confess in sung prayers that we want more of God in our lives, that we long for a deeper relationship with him when in reality there are times that our behaviour demonstrates the opposite: we really want our own way, our own desires met, and we want as little interference from God as possible.

This isn't to say that our worship or our aspirations are therefore disingenuous. Rather, it's about recognizing that our desires -- what we want -- also need to be transformed. Only through the work of the Spirit can the aspirational be gradually turned into the actual. Only through the messy work of prayer, worship, Bible study, fellowship, and daily discipleship do we become what we ought to be and therefore more fully want what we ought to want: to serve Christ and glorify God. This is what I want, anyway; or at least it's what I want to want.

Preaching Through a Series: Part 2

I'm gradually working through a sermon series that is based on the Natural Church Development eight quality characteristics. You can see part 1 of this post here. And here is that list of characteristics again:

1. Gift-oriented ministry (already done: "Being Gifts")
2. Loving Relationships (already done: "The Gift of Love")
3. Inspiring Worship (this week: "The Why of Worship")
4. Passionate Spirituality
5. Holistic Small Groups
6. Empowering Leadership
7. Effective Structures
8. Need-oriented Evangelism

As you can see, with the third message I've deviated already from the "gift" metaphor. No big deal. The real point is to work through the topics. I sort of wish now that I had introduced the series more deliberately from the start. Instead, I just began it without letting people know that I was beginning a series. This was because I wasn't completely sure whether I was beginning a series. I was trying out the topics tentatively. So this week I think I need to be more vocal about what I'm doing. Also, this week I had a meeting with my deacons and our regional pastor about the NCD survey we did. It was an excellent experience going over the results of the survey together. While one never knows the future, it feels like we're just at the cusp of being more intentional and creative with ministry at our church. Having been presented with the result of the survey, we are in the position of a patient who's just gotten a diagnosis from a doctor. What we do with the doctor's information is up to us.

One thing this has made me think about is that I really want to be here at this church for as long as the Lord wills. I even feel that as a pastor that I am still very much learning how to pastor and lead. Having the opportunity to lead a church through this process, and anticipating how people will be encouraged by increasing health and growth, is enough to make me want to see this through the long-haul. Of course, that's not enough to keep me here. The call to ministry does that. Only the knowledge that God has placed me in this church provides the incentive to continue. Because there are, no doubt, going to be times -- or at least days -- when ministry will not be enjoyable or fun but difficult and even discouraging. And on those days it won't be the hope that God will bring more encouraging moments and times that gets me through but confidence that God has more in mind for our church and for our community.

"Never do today . . ."

Well, today I mowed my lawn. It's needed doing for at least a couple of weeks -- and so prior to my mowing the lawn, it looked more like a tropical rain-forest than a back-lawn. Who knows what bizarre creatures were slinking about beneath the ridiculously long blades of grass! All number of things caused me to put it off. There were various circumstances, including rainy weather and having to get the car fixed. Not to mention that I usually try and make sure to get church work done before yard-work. But the truth is, it's never hard to find reasons (read: excuses) to leave yard-work for another day. Oddly, once I'm actually in the middle of mowing the lawn, I generally don't mind it. And even more oddly there are occasions when I actually enjoy getting outside and getting such things done. Yet I still put it off. "Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today," the proverb goes. My attitude, though, toward yard-work usually reverses this proverbial wisdom: "Never do today what you can put off until tomorrow!" Including mowing my lawn. Maybe especially so.

So my question is, if once I get going I don't mind it so much, why is it that I put it off or find excuses to leave it to another day?

A good friend of mine once coined a definition of procrastination: "Procrastination: the art of using one's relaxation time to produce stress." And he coined this with particular reference to his habit of leaving the writing of essays and sermons to the last minute -- though the ideas had already been simmering in his head for some time. But actually sitting down and doing the work of putting thoughts on paper usually didn't happen until the night or two before. It was the time-crunch, the reality of an imminent deadline, that spurred him on.

On another occasion he and I were supposed to be preparing for a Greek mid-term. This was when we were fellow-students in seminary. It was the night before the mid-term, and I was really getting stressed partly because we weren't really getting around to studying. Though my friend wasn't at all stressed; again, the pressure of time actually made it easier for him somehow. He kept saying to me, "Don't worry about it. We'll be fine!" Well, I had no confidence that this was so. Thankfully, despite my stress and our mutual procrastination we both did well on the mid-term.

Anyway, I am not the kind of person who thrives under that kind of pressure. I might put off mowing the lawn but I will do everything I can to get an early handle on my sermon, for instance, as soon as possible during the week. The closer I get to Sunday morning without a complete or near-complete sermon, which does happen on occasion, the more nervous I'm likely to get. I'm not a fan of "Saturday night specials," when I find myself on my knees on a Saturday evening praying for a text and a title! Though, thankfully, this is an area where I am learning to trust God more and more. So even if I do find myself in this situation, either because of circumstances beyond my control or because of poor time management, I don't react as often with sheer panic. Not like when I was worrying about a Greek mid-term!

Of course, all this aside, not many -- including me -- are likely to panic over a lawn needing to be mowed. So putting that off is much easier. An unseemly looking yard has never caused me too much stress. If it has, it's only because I've got so much else to do in a given week and leaving the lawn too long means a standard mower will not do the trick; I'll need a bush-hog! And if it has, it's because it's just one more thing -- even if one more mundane thing -- that I have to get done. I found this to be the case when we were pastoring at our last church where I was bi-vocational. Having a full-time job on top of being a part-time pastor meant that time was a valuable commodity.

Truthfully, that's why I've got the tendency to put off mowing the lawn here. It's not so much so that I despise the task, but that it takes time away from what I generally consider more important things. If I take time this afternoon to work on the yard, will I make getting my sermon on time more difficult? Probably, but in how many other ways do I fail to manage my time well so that getting prepared for Sunday or for some other responsibility is more difficult? Frankly, sometimes it's my fault. And it's got nothing to do with mowing the lawn.

Christian stewardship involves our finances, other resources, our gifts and energy, and also our time. Without discipline, responsible stewardship proves much more challenging. I can't speak for anyone else, but I find managing time to involve the most discipline and therefore the most difficulties. I don't think we should micro-manage our days, but I know that I tend to thrive best when I have some manner of routine in place, one that provides a sense of managed time. Discipline goes hand in hand with freedom.

God provides a sense of time through creation -- seven days, each with its own work of creating, day and night, seasons and years, rest and work. There is a rhythm to creation, to time as God has shaped it. To that end, you could say that God has imbued creation with a sense of managed time. And God certainly didn't create the world by saying, "Well, never do today what I can put off until tomorrow."

Ramblings about friendship inspired by late-night surfing . . .

For the last couple of weeks my allergies have been a daily annoyance, sometimes waking me up in the middle of the night and keeping me up for nearly an hour at a time until my allergy medication takes effect. One consequence of this is that I end up feeling completely drug out the next day. Mornings, typically my prime work time, find me wandering around zombie-like. Concentration is nearly non-existent. Last week especially felt like a complete loss. Though ironically it was on a night when I found myself awake at 3am that I finally realized what my Sunday sermon was supposed to be about. This was Friday night (technically Saturday morning). Once the idea was settled -- a message looking at 2 & 3 John -- the rest came quite quickly. It was what my mother-in-law would call a "God-thing." I agree with her.

On one of the many nights I found myself sniffing and sneezing unable to sleep I found myself on the computer surfing. In particular, I was looking up old friends, checking out their blogs, and seeing if I could find out what they were presently up to. I didn't have a whole lot of luck. But it got me thinking.

Since moving back to NB from Ontario and getting married and becoming a dad, my time has pretty much been divided between home and church, between family and ministry. My world has contracted. Most days, once my daughter is in bed all I usually want to do is relax, spend time with my wife, and precious little else. What this means is that I have largely lost touch with most friends. I rarely am in contact with anyone other than immediate family and church folk. My wife has long since given up exhorting me to call friends who live long distance. In my own defense, old friends have rarely shown initiative in keeping in touch with me. It can cut both ways. But this says something about how, once we're no longer in school and find ourselves married with children or busy with ministry or work, our priorities definitely change. How we use what time we have is usually predetermined by family and career. Other things often fall off the radar. It's not that we deliberately shut out old friends, but that anything which doesn't immediately relate to life right here and right now gets crowded out.

Being in my mid-30s also means that making new friends isn't easy. I'm not going anywhere most of the time where I am likely to meet new people who might become friends. I recall a Seinfeld joke that said that the friends you have once you're in your 30s are your friends -- you're not getting anymore! I don't think that's precisely true, but as a pastor in a small town it is hard to make friends. The members of your congregation can't usually be the sort of friends that you catch a movie with. I don't often think of this, but on those occasions when my wife and daughter are away for a day or two I do sometimes wish there was someone I could call and get together with, someone who shared my interests without also knowing me as a pastor.

I have a Facebook account. I never use it, and so I should just cancel it and close down my profile. Anyone I know who is on Facebook will browse my profile in vain for new information, updates, or recent pictures. I've never been motivated enough to maintain it. I once did close my profile but opened it again so I could find out if a friend's wife had their baby. But it does seem to me that Facebook has taken over from e-mail and other options as the preferred means of keeping in touch with friends, old and new. I almost feel guilty for not using it, as though somehow I've committed the sin of not-keeping-up-with-the-latest-in-communication-technology and as a result have demonstrated a complete lack of interest in keeping up with friends, especially old friends. I only know that the little experience I have with Facebook seems to bear out my feeling that it could easily become a major time drain. I guess I don't have any sound reasons for missing friends, not if I don't make the effort afforded by the technological options available.