Showing posts with label church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label church. Show all posts

Friday, March 29, 2013

Passover

Yesterday, like every other years since 1991 Mom's eighth grade Sunday school class was at our house to celebrate a seder dinner.  Here are some pictures:
The tables are set and ready to go

Matzah Tasch (three pocketed ceremonial Matzo bag)


Seder plate with ceremonial items (from top clockwise: roasted egg, lamb shank bone, charoset, horseradish, parsley. Center: bitter herbs)
David being a goofball while eating the roasted egg

lots of good food and fellowship around the table

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Smorgasbord Sunday


Smorgasbord, as defined by dictionary.com is:
1. a buffet meal of various hot and cold hors d'oeuvres, salads, casserole dishes, meats, cheeses, etc.
2. an extensive array or variety
I've decided to make Sundays a smorgasbord of stuff...pictures, writing about prayer points and plans.  Just an extensive array. :)

Firstly, the hospital trip that I talked about last week and then corrected to say wasn't happening because in my mind I'd skipped a week is happening this week.  Here's what I wrote last week without the edit.
This coming week we have one big appointment:  On Wednesday I head to London for an EEG (brain wave measuring thing) EEG's are fairly routine for me and this one is to monitor how my brain is doing in light of the medication switching that is happening and to follow up on Spot.  I'm thankful it's just an EEG for now and not an MRI, since I hate MRI's.  Prayers for safe travels and no snow storms would be great. (our last appointment in the city was a snow storm nightmare)  Also pray that the EEG would show good things about my brain, since I'm rather attached to it and we really don't want any more issues popping up.
The forecast for this week is predicting 10-15cm of snow for Tuesday and 5-10cm for Wednesday with temperatures hovering right around freezing, so there is a bit of concern about weather and travel.

For all of you who prayed for my back, it is doing much better.  It only hurts occasionally and typically after I do something silly like lift feed bags on my own. Much better than last week!

We sang this beautiful song in church this morning and it really touched my heart.  Our G-d truly does hide our souls in the cleft of the rock and covers them with his hand.  Here are the lyrics:

A wonderful Savior is Jesus my Lord,
A wonderful Savior to me;
He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock,
Where rivers of pleasure I see.


    Refrain:
    He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock,
That shadows a dry, thirsty land;
He hideth my life in the depths of His love,
And covers me there with His hand,
And covers me there with His hand. 

A wonderful Savior is Jesus my Lord,
He taketh my burden away,
He holdeth me up and I shall not be moved,
He giveth me strength as my day. 

With numberless blessings each moment He crowns,
And filled with His fullness divine,
I sing in my rapture, oh, glory to God!
For such a Redeemer as mine. 

When clothed with His brightness transported I rise
To meet Him in clouds of the sky,
His perfect salvation, His wonderful love,
I’ll shout with the millions on high. 

And a cute picture of a sleeping baby to close this Smorgasbord Sunday out:


  • He's so angelic looking when he's asleep...

    Wednesday, December 26, 2012

    Christmas Grief

    In seminary I took a course called "Pastor as Person".  It was a required course for all students and most of us took it in our second year. It was all about how being a person, a human being with feelings, emotions, and experiences, affected our pastoral identity. It affects how we preach and how we interact with people. All and all it was a very interesting class taught by a stellar professor. It came to mind this year as I sat in our Christmas Eve service at church.
    I've never looked at Christmas through the eyes of a grieving mother before.  I couldn't.  Not before I became a grieving mother.  Sitting in church listening to the pastor talk about the hope and expectation of a baby, a tiny bundle of hope coming, hurt.  It hurt a lot. Listening to the pastor talk about labor and delivery, reminded me of the baby that I would not deliver.  And I wept.
    I wept for my baby who was already home with Jesus and I wept for all the babies who weren't home with their mothers and fathers this year.  The babies who were called home far too early for our liking.
    And I wondered...how do you approach Christmas with a sensitivity to all that hurt?  How do you a preach a Christmas message of hope and new life to those who are mourning the loss of life?
    These (and others) are questions I ponder as my pastoral identity continues to be shaped. These are questions that I hope I can keep in mind if and when I ever get called to lead a congregation on my own. Because Christmas should bring hope to everyone.

    Friday, April 13, 2012

    I'm still here, really

    Hello Readers!
    I am so honored that you keep coming to check and see if there is anything new here.  My apologies for posting so infrequently. Life has been busy and routine all at the same time.  The semester is wrapping up and that naturally makes everything busier. The weather is getting nicer and that makes me less eager to be inside...though it is significantly cooler and ickier out than it was a few weeks ago.
    Easter even came and went without a post from me. Quick recap:
    The week before Easter I traveled to Iowa to hang out with David (my fiance, for those who haven't caught up that far yet).  We were on spring break and it seemed like a good way to spend my spring break, especially since we hadn't seen each other since January.  The tulips in Pella were beautiful, but a month ahead of schedule!  David and I spent much quality time together, and I got to see some other friends from my time at Central.
    While I was there we also got some engagement pictures taken by a friend.  Once they are ready, I'll post a couple.  I'm excited for them.
    Another high point of that week were bacon wrapped dates with a maple glaze. They were heavenly. And I think I found a recipe to make them myself so we'll see if we can replicate them.
    I was back in (little) Holland for Easter Sunday and enjoyed a lovely Easter service at my teaching church.  It involved lots of bubble wrap and some of my favorite verses from Romans 17.  First Reformed church of Holland is not a boring church!
    After church I came home and had a delightful nap.  Easter was only missing a few things this year.  (Like my family and David).
    This last week was mostly school and sleeping.  I've been doing a lot of sleeping lately. I think I'm battling a bit of an infection in my sinuses/ears that is causing some pain/dizziness/nausea.  So my body needs the extra sleep.  Hopefully it will run it's course soon.
    A look ahead to the coming week shows inter-seminary soccer tournament tomorrow, which I will be at, but not allowed to play because my knee isn't quite up to par. And then more class and other school stuff.
    I will be meeting a relative for the first time this week, which is always exciting.  She is my mom's cousin's daughter and has recently returned from Africa so we are getting together and having dinner. I think for simplicity's sake I'm just going to pretend that she is my cousin, especially since I call her mom aunt. (I sometimes call my own mother aunt too though...)
    Other than that, nothing new or exciting here.  Blessings to you all!

    Sunday, March 18, 2012

    The Sermon That Wasn't

    Late last fall I was asked to preach at the church I grew up in.  Naturally I said yes.  I am one of three seminary students from my home church and it was the first time I was asked to preach here and I was just as nervous as I was excited.  I have preached lots of times in my teaching church and other places in (little) Holland, but there is something different about being in front of people who have watched you grow up, through the good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly.
    I was nervous, but as Mommy Glynis taught me through my years of drama in the MVPs, appropriate nervousness is a good thing.  If you aren't nervous you are too full of yourself.  This piece of wisdom was affirmed by my preaching professor last year.
    I ate breakfast this morning and went off to church with my dad (sound tech) and Littlest Brother (playing prelude).  I got wired and did sound checks.  I sat on my stool behind the pulpit to get the feel for things. I talked with the person running visuals and got everything set for that.  I went downstairs and prayed with the pastor and elders.
    I felt fine as I sat in the front pew next to the pastor waiting for the sermon time.
    I got up, settled myself onto my stool, prayed, read the scripture, and started my sermon.  I made it through the beginning paragraphs.  Then the words on my page started to blur.  My head started to spin.  Pauses between be words and sentences became longer and longer.  Things became tunnel. The next thing I remember is coming to on the floor with people around me. I had passed out.
     First responders and nurses in the congregation revived me, and someone called 911.  The local fire department showed up first.  They put me on oxygen and I desperately wanted to finish my sermon.  They sat me up on my stool and I promptly passed out again.  Paramedics showed up and didn't give me a choice about hospital time.  I quickly found myself in a cervical collar and strapped to a backboard and in an ambulance.  I spent a couple hours in the ER getting IV fluids and blood work. We didn't get any real answers as to why I passed out, however the doctor suspects an electrolyte imbalance and if I keep watching my mineral intake I should be fine.
    So in other words, my sermon never got preached.  I have yet to find a silver lining to all this or a purpose behind this. Perhaps satan didn't want the congregation to hear my message, perhaps it was just because I had been sick with an upper respiratory infection for the last couple weeks, perhaps it was random.
    But I'm not giving up.  If they give me another chance, I will preach it again.  And I will keep trying until I get through it until it turns into the sermon that definitely was.

    Wednesday, February 01, 2012

    Acceptance

    In the last year and a half that I have worked at First Reformed Church I have worked with lots of "challenges".  I've shown up to work with mono, on crutches because of tweaked knees or ankles, with ear infections, with my central auditory processing disorder flared so bad I could hardly understand what was going on around me, and so on.  But today was different. I showed up to work in a wheelchair.
    Due to a unfortunate incident involving multiple pairs of ice skates, a bunch of friends and a small child I have badly sprained knee.  Doctor says I am supposed to stay completely off of it at least through the weekend, along with icing, elevating, etc.  And since I always listen to my doctor I'm in a wheelchair.
    To be honest, I was a little nervous. I wasn't nervous about staff meeting or homework time or anything like that.  I wasn't even really nervous about the community dinner.  I was nervous about teaching my class of 4 and 5 year olds. How would they react to me in a wheelchair?  Would I be able to lead the class well from a wheelchair?  Would I have three kids or nine kids?
    My fears were unfounded.  The kids hardly seemed to notice.  The only time any of them said anything was when we were singing "Stand up, Sit down" and one of them suggested I raise my good leg instead of trying to stand up when we got there.  By the time we were done class, I was playing "tickle monster" with all of them just fine.  Class from a wheelchair had gone just fine.  The biggest problem I'd actually had all day at work was trying to get into the ladies' room.  Once I was in I was fine, it was just the getting in part that didn't work out so great.
    What struck me most about the whole experience was that my kiddos were so accepting.  There was no questioning, not fear, just acceptance.  Miss Joy was simply in a wheelchair and that was that.  One child came up behind me and started pushing me and we had a little talk about wheelchair etiquette, but other than that, things were good.  And that made me happy. I wish more people could be like that.  So accepting, so innocent.

    Saturday, January 21, 2012

    Benediction

    "It takes four hugs a day just to survive..."
    Overall it had been an interesting worship service.  About what I had expected. Loud music, charismatic speaker.  I was seated in the front left corner, a perfect spot to lip read the speaker and the musicians.

    "eight hugs a day to maintain..."
    This is where things were starting to get confusing for me.  What kind of benediction was this? Some sort of feel good benediction to get us through the week?  Something that lacked theological support, something to keep from offending people from various denominations.

    "twelve to really grow...."
    This was all making sense to me. Hugs are good.  Hugs help you feel connected.  Being connected is good.  This was something I could carry with me through the week, think about as I made new friends in a new place.

    "You decide"
    The room erupted.  Everyone was hugging everyone else. What was going on? Why were all these people okay with it?

    I froze.

    That first night was was overwhelming.

    Fast forward four years.

    I was sitting at the church service just before graduation. The same pastor was speaking that first night. I watched his every word.  We stood for the benediction.  I waited for the words I had come to expect every week.   They didn't come.  My heart broke a little.  Many of us hugged anyways and then we left. A few hours later we graduated.

    What had changed in those four years?  Four years.  A very short portion of my life, yet a part of my life that I will never, ever forget.  These people became my family.  They were the ones who held me when I cried, made me laugh so hard that my nose wiggled, and went on adventures with me.  We shared incredible joys and we shared incredible sorrows with each other.  We celebrated as friends got engaged and married, we mourned as friends died. We had fights and we made up afterwards.
    But then we left.

    We promised to stay in touch, but we still left.
    And some of us did stay in touch, but some of us...

    I wish I could go back, back to those four years, back to that last day with them and hug and hug and hug.
    I wish I had people here that I could hug like that. I wish I had a community that hugged like that.

    Four hugs a day just to survive, eight to maintain, twelve to grow.  You decide.

    Sunday, December 04, 2011

    Daddy, is that blood?

    "Daddy, is that blood?"
    "No it just represents Jesus' blood.  It reminds of Jesus' blood"
    I smiled as I listened to them talk about the meaning of communion.  Then the pastor began talking again.
    "The blood of Christ shed for you" (no wonder kids get confused!)
    With that, we all tipped back our swallow of grape juice.  The pastor offered a prayer and thus ended communion.  My notebook was out and on my lap as I scribbled furiously through the offering processing everything.

    Why do we drink only a small swallow of grape juice (or wine if that is your tradition)? Jesus didn't shed just a little blood for us.  He didn't just prick his finger or scrape his knee.  He gave all his blood.  Every last drop was given for me, and for you, and for every one who calls on his name.  All of it.  He poured it all out.
    When I'm at a communion service I just want to drink gallons of the grape juice, I want to wash in it, I want to relish in it (okay, that would be really sticky, but I'm speaking figuratively!) His blood has washed me clean.  Cleaner than any soap could ever get me.  His blood covers it all.

    I think about blood a lot.  Not in a creepy way, but in general.  I've known some people involved in the occult, the darker side of things.  There it's all about the blood too.  The difference is in who's blood it is.  In my very limited knowledge of the occult, the blood required is always the blood of a mortal.  Either the blood of the person practicing or the blood of an animal or the blood of another.  I don't fully understand what the blood does or why it's important (as I said, my knowledge is very limited), I just know it plays an important role.  I also know that it's never enough...there always has to be more blood.
    But in Christianity, the blood only had to be shed once.  Once and for all.  That's all.  No more blood was needed.  It just blows my mind and makes me so grateful, so thankful.

    My blood will never need shed, the blood of another will never need on my behalf.  It's over.

    "Daddy, is this blood?"
    no...it's not blood because we don't need actual blood anymore.  That's already been taken care of

    Monday, November 21, 2011

    Don't Point!

    I stood singing in church one morning, my hands moving as much as my mouth.  The church-provided FM system hung over my right ear, the wire snaking down to the box clipped to my pocket.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw the little blonde haired blue-eyed girl in the row behind me pointing at me.  I turned to smile at her and watched her ask her mommy why I had the funny thing on my ear. I watched her mommy pull her hand down from pointing and saw the words "don't point" as they came out of her mother's mouth.  The rest of the reply was lost as the mother and the child turned away and we moved into a time of prayer.
    My heart wanted to yell at her or at least offer gentle advice, since I'm not exactly the yelling and screaming type of person.  I wanted to tell to let her daughter point, to let her daughter ask questions, to let her daughter ask *me* questions.
    Some of you mind think that this sort of response encourages rudeness or impertinence and perhaps it does, but that's not how I see it.
    The genuine, inquisitive, questions of a child who doesn't yet understand the world around her are not offensive.  Neither are the genuine inquisitive questions of an adult who does not understand the world around them.
    What *is* offensive though is people who assume they know the answers without asking.  The people who don't asking can't really know.
    If we hadn't been sitting in church and I had the opportunity to interact with the child, I would have taken my FM system off and handed it to her and let her listen.  I would have shown her my hearing aids and explained that my ears were broken and that hearing aids were like glasses for my ears.  I would have told her that I use my eyes to "hear". I would have asked her what her name was and then shown her How I would fingerspell it.  I would have answered her questions. And I would have answered the questions that her mom was too afraid to ask.
    And I would have told her them that pointing was okay, as long as they weren't laughing as me when they pointed.

    Sunday, October 09, 2011

    Precious moments

    This morning in church I sat right in front of 4 year old Abel and his dad.  I often sit in front of Abel and his family or across the aisle from them.  Today when it was time for the morning offering to be received, Abel decided that he was going to help his dad collect the offering (Abel's dad is a deacon).  Without missing more than a beat or two, Abel's dad handed him an offering plate and the two of them collected the offering together.  Abel was so proud as he passed the plate down the rows of people, and the look on his face as he walked down the center aisle with his dad and the other deacon to present the offering filled my heart with joy.  I got a high five from him as he went back to his seat.

    Last week Friday I celebrated communion with 4 year old Miriam snuggled on my lap.  As the communion liturgy was read/recited she nearly quivered with excitement.  As I took the wafer and dipped it in the grape juice, she took a wafer and dipped it in the grape juice.  She knew that Jesus had died for her sins too.  Because she had been raised in a church (they had no Sunday School), she knew what communion was and she knew that this was part of her faith life.  When we were finished, she twisted around on my lap and smiled up at me. We shared that sacred moment together.

    Children are not the future of our church. They are the church. They are the church now.  They will not become the church.  They are the church.

    When will we realize this and stop sending them off to Sunday is the basement while we have church?  Why do we pretend to ourselves that once they are older they will want a part in the very church sent them off to their own space, their own classroom the entire time they were growing up?

    Children can participate in "big church".  Abel collected offering this morning.  Children can greet people and hand out bulletins.  They can pass out cookies after church.  They can sing the songs and learn the readings and liturgy that we use week after week.

    Children are the church now. Today.  In this time.

    These are precious moments that we can't afford to miss.  If we miss these moments, then the church WILL die.  There is no doubt about that.

    Sunday, October 02, 2011

    Gluten Free communion bread

    Today was Worldwide Communion Sunday.  For those of you who didn't grow up in the church or just have no idea what that means or why it's important, it's basically a Sunday where many churches around the world have decided to celebrate communion or the Eucharist.  It's really neat to realize that on this particular Sunday churches all over the world are doing the same thin, albeit often in very different ways.
    The church I worshiped with this morning served communion with naan-bread and grape juice.  Other churches served wafers and wine.  Others served white wonder bread. Some bread had leaven, other bread was unleavened. Tonight a friend served me homemade gluten free bread with cranberry juice. Regardless of what was served and the exact theology each congregation holds to, it was all a celebration of the same thing, the marvelous sacrifice of Christ on the cross.
    As I sat there, not taking communion in full (we were served by intinction (dipping the bread in the cup) this morning , but I got a cup from the elder that was serving those who couldn't get to the front), I thought about bread.  If you've read what I've written about communion before, you know that the bread is a big stumbling block for me. The gluten found in most bread can make me super sick. And that's not fun.  So, as I sat there I thought about gluten free options for communion (for the bread only...if you want to read more about doing gluten free communion properly/safely, read one of these posts: Post 1, Post 2 or talk to me (I've done some work on this topic) or someone in your congregation who has experience with gluten free eating.).

    One option that is relatively easy and safe is to take gluten free communion wafers.  These are certified gluten free and keep really well.  Of course, if your church has been using bread since the foundations of time, it might be a bit of a huge switch and something you have to work through as a congregation.  The most common (perhaps only) gluten free communion wafer is from Ener-G foods.  It is free from just about everything including leaven, nuts, egg, dairy, shellfish, corn and more.

    Another option is store bought gluten free bread.  If that's what you want to do, and if that's what is going to work best for your congregation, you want to pick one that doesn't have a huge list of ingredients.  The more ingredients the bread has, the more likely someone is to be allergic to something in it.  You also want to make sure you get one that isn't crumbly, which is hard.    If your congregation is nut free, Kinnikinnick foods are all nut free, but many of them have eggs and dairy in them, so if you are going with a store bought bread, check with your congregation.  I think they all have corn so I can't have any of them and I don't know how the crumble factor works.  Other companies such as Udi's or Glutino also make gluten free bread, which I think is nut free, but does contain eggs and dairy.  Again, check with your congregation to see if this works.  In Ontario check out El Peto.  They have lots of different breads and some are free of most allergens, such as their potato bread (one of my favorites when I'm on the farm).


    Yet another option is to have someone in your congregation bake gluten free bread.  All the cautions that apply to using store bought bread apply to this option too, along with making sure the person is who doing the baking understands allergy friendly baking and the risk of cross contamination. 


    The most important thing is to talk to your congregation.  Don't assume you know that they need. Because you don't.  Talk to you congregation and really listen to them. 

    Tuesday, September 27, 2011

    So I've been rather silent lately.  My apologies to all of you who keep coming here hoping to find something new to read and then not finding anything at all.  The biggest reason was that I pretty much slept from Thursday through Sunday.  I've gotten some sort of bug that just has me down and out.  Even if I wasn't sleeping, I was just laying there, existing.   Somehow, by the grace of G-d, I was up and able to preach on Sunday evening.  I'm quite sure that if it hadn't been for his good grace, that would not have happened.  It was a very very small group Sunday, the smallest I've every preached to.  Including the elder, the pianist, and myself there were 7 people.  I was sad at first, but then remembered the promise of our Lord "wherever two or three are gathered in my name, I am there with them" (Mark 18:20).  I was blessed knowing that the Lord was there with us, even though we were few in number.  And I was blessed when people told me afterwards that they were blessed by the Word.

    Tomorrow morning I head to Iowa for my Uncle Paul's funeral.  In all technicality, he is my mom's uncle, but on that side of the family, everyone is Aunt or Uncle (gender dependent) whether they are mom's cousins or uncles or aunts or whatever.  I got to see him in Summer 2010 at a family reunion.  We took a picture of the 3 (!) generations of twins in the family.  I'm so glad that we got those precious photos.
    From Top to Bottom, Left to Right:  Aunt Polly and Uncle Paul, Moria and Taryn (almost 19), Arianna and Kalvin (4)

    Monday, September 19, 2011

    >Mine

    So I should be working on translating Greek (we are working through Mark 3 for tomorrow) or prepping for my sermon next Sunday, or doing readings for class or something else productive.  But I don't want to. I mean, I do want to, those are all great things to do, and sometimes like doing all of them, but right now, I don't want to.
    I preached yesterday.  It was an interesting experience.  It was at a long term care/rehabilitation facility, so mostly really old people.  The last time I preached to really old people it was at an independent living facility - completely different atmosphere! It was also one of the most laid back preaching experiences I had.  We started the service and then realized that the set-up we thought was going to work wasn't going to work.  So we moved the podium, moved the sound system, moved everyone's wheelchair...and started over.  I got compliments afterwards, so I guess that's a good thing.
    I'm not going to post my manuscript like I often do, because my manuscript is becoming more of a tool and less of a crutch for me. It no longer accurately reflects what I say during a service.  Sure it gives a general idea, but that's about it.   If you really want to see my manuscript, let me know and I'll send you a copy.  Otherwise, not.
    My sermon theme was from Exodus 16 and about how G-d's plan is always greater than ours and how we have to trust him when we have no idea where to turn or what the deuce is going on.
    As I prepared and delivered this message I realized that it spoke to me just as much as it spoke to any of my congregants if not more.  That's a cool thing about being pastor.  Frustrating at times, but also cool.  You get to preach to yourself, but it's not really you, but the Holy Spirit through you...it's a beautiful thing indeed.  Right now I'm really focusing on the phrase ">Mine".  For those of you who struggled in math, that means "Greater than mine." Think of the ">" as a hungry alligator mouth.  It doesn't want to eat mine, it wants to eat what is greater than mine, because it is a very hungry alligator.  If you're the praying sort, I could really use prayers for clarity and guidance.  I'm feeling a call to refine my call and maybe possibly change courses a little.  Of course, that's scary.  I need to make sure it's not my plan.  Because then the alligator will still be hungry.  No one likes hungry alligators.
    In other news, I feel like I'm turning into a fish.
    I'm super distractable today.  I think it's because I skimped on Sabbath this weekend.  Don't skimp on Sabbath.  It's a bad plan!  Bad Joy!
    Now, time for supper and back to work

    Tuesday, September 13, 2011

    Prayer Requests

    This post is a list of prayer requests because there is so much on my heart today.

    Number 1:
    Tamara (a friend of my brother) and her son Terrence are in the hospital as 3 year old Terrence receives chemotherapy for leukemia.  The hospital is very far away from where Terrence's daddy and siblings live.  Please pray for healing for little Terrence and that G-d would somehow use this situation to bring the family to him.

    Number 2:
    A dear friend of mine was admitted to hospital yesterday with what currently appears to be a killer case of mono.  It had caused her tonsils to swell to a point that swallowing and breathing were difficult.  She is currently planning a wedding and looking for a job.  Please pray for strength and quick healing.

    Number 3:
    Many churches are getting ready to kick off their fall programming.  Please pray for the leaders of the churches as they prepare and launch. Pray also for those who will be drawn in by the fall programming.  Prepare their hearts and their minds and their souls.

    Number 4:
    My dad was able to stop taking some of his fever-reducing medication over the weekend and his fever didn't come back!  Praise the Lord of this step in the right direction.  Please continue to pray for a complete recovery.

    Number 5:
    After 138 days with any seizure activity, I had at least 2 seizures today.  There may have been a smaller one in the morning, but I don't remember.  A few classmates who know me well said that there was some definite odd behavior and motions from me and made them think seizure.  I'm quite upset and am really searching as to what my next steps should be and where G-d is calling me.  Please pray for peace and clarity and that this was a one time event.

    Number 6:
    I am preaching my first morning service on Sunday.  I currently have nothing on paper, nor do I have a pianist/music  leader.  Please pray for guidance and the moving of the spirit.

    Tuesday, August 30, 2011

    And I'm back...

    I'm back.
    For the last 2 weeks we have not had internet in our house.  If I sat outside I could sometimes get it, but it wasn't a great signal and if too many vehicles went down the road in a row, I lost it.  But now, there is internet in our house. I'm happy. And a little worried.  Wasting time will be easier now. ;)
    On a more serious note, I am back in seminary now.  Orientation was last week, classes started yesterday. Honestly, I had forgotten how exhausting school was.  Maybe it's just getting back into the routine.  I hope it's just getting back into the routine.  I'll have more in-depth reflections at a different time, but it's almost 9:30.  Last night I went to bed at 8.  Maybe I'm just getting old.
    I'm also officially back at First Reformed Church.  I'm excited for what the Lord has in store for me there this year.

    Thursday, August 04, 2011

    Fun Picture

    I have stuff to write about, but I don't want to write.  I want to bake yummy things.  I mean, I do want to write things, just not right now.  I've been glued to the computer since 2 this afternoon working on swim team stuff as well as other stuff and being distracted in general. (RCA's Breaking Barriers publication came out today.  Enough said.).  Anyhow, in lieu of writing, here is a snapshot of yesterday.  After reading my Facebook status from yesterday, one of my friends told me that my life is epic. I will post the status below the picture and you can decide for yourself.
    This is me and Rosie at church.  I got to drive Rosie a bunch.  Rosie is part Arabian horse and part pony.  I'm not quite sure what that makes her, but she is wonderful.  Drives like a dream.  Real easy to handle.  And, her cart has lights and blinkers and everything so she even gets to drive on the road.  I even got to drive her on the road.  I was happy.
    And here is the Facebook post that got me told that I lead an epic life:
    Some days are more random than others. Accomplished today: finding an ASL version of Psalm 23 for a friend. two hour staff meeting. warding off creepy guys at the gas station. Extended grocery shopping trip with a dear friend. care closet complete with an attitude adjustment from my Loving Father. cuddling a baby. driving a horse. examining a head wound. discussing various (head) wounds and methods for closing them. reassuring a parent that their child was going to be fine. supervising "pennies in the sawdust". understanding a very small part of a conversation spoken in Spanish. Playing on an inflatable obstacle course. going on a walk and talk with a wonderful friend. Now...BEDTIME!!!


    Monday, August 01, 2011

    It is good to go to the house of the Lord...

    I love the Church.  Not necessarily individual church buildings or gatherings, but the Church Universal. That's probably a good thing since I'm in seminary and heading towards a career serving the Church in some capacity.
    Sometimes things happen at churches that are extra special, like baptisms.  I love baptisms.  On Sunday we had a number of baptisms at First, and they weren't all infants!  (RCA tradition says that infants are baptized. Non-infant baptism usually indicates a new believer). As usual I took some pictures that I'm going to share.  The pictures are a little blurry/grainy, but I did my best.  And to make this particular baptism Sunday even more special, people in India were involved too!
      Two new families joined our church this morning and were welcomed into membership.
    These two families presented their infants for baptism.  For some reason none of the elders were real excited about teaching this particular baptismal  class.  On the left, both parents hold Ph.D's in Biblical Studies/Theology and are professors at the seminary. Below, both parents hold the title "Reverend".  Not at all intimidating!
    Reuben Alagar (above) and Nathaniel Thomas (right) are welcomed into the Body of Christ through the Sacrament of Baptism.

    Reuben's paternal grandparents couldn't make the journey from India to be part of their grandson's baptism, but thanks to the wonders of technology they were brought in via Skype to watch the baptism.  The entire service was being streamed so that they could feel as if they were there, even though they were in India.
    After the infants were baptized, a young person (kneeling on the right) was baptized.  It always excites me so much when a young person is baptized.  I mean, all baptisms excite me, but when it is a young person or an adult, I know they have made a decision for themselves and that makes me happy.
    After the baptisms were finished, a young person made her profession of faith.  She is kneeling by the fount (on the left).  Members of the congregation were invited to come lay hands on her and pray for her as the Pastor and her best friend (who invited her to church!) offered out-loud prayers for her.  I love to see the body of Christ coming together in this way.  Young and old, everyone is there committing to this young person to continue to disciple her and guide her.
    After all the baptisms were finished and we had welcomed all of our new members, Reuben's grandfather prayed for us.  I have no idea what he said since he prayed in his heart language, but it was beautiful.  Later that evening I preached on the topic of the body of Christ and this was a beautiful picture: believers around the world coming together to celebrate the sacraments, even though they are separated by many, many, many, miles.
    After everything was said and done, I got some good Nathaniel cuddle time in. He was very content just to sit and lounge in my arms, looking around at the people at his baptism party. He was most content when I kept moving and bouncing him a bit.  (His legs really weren't purple...It's just a weird reflection from my shirt.  Honest, I was not cutting off any circulation!)

    Sunday, July 31, 2011

    1 Corinthians 12

    Typically when I'm posting a sermon manuscript I use the sermon title as my blog title, but this week my sermon didn't really have title.  Apologies to my Pre-ministerial Seminar professor who always stressed the importance of a catchy title.  I have a (sorta) good reason at least.  I'd struggled all week to write a sermon called "Expect the Unexpected".  I'd even, with permission, collected illustrations from friends to use in it.  But Saturday afternoon as I put finishing touches on my manuscript (which should have been a sign in the first place...my sermons are usually done by Thursday at the latest), I realized that I could not preach what I had written.  It was awful.  Don't try and tell me it really couldn't have been that bad, because it was that bad.  It was horrid.  So, at 2pm Saturday afternoon, I threw that manuscript out and started over from scratch.  New text, new focus, new sermon.
    The funny thing is, the sermon I wrote was the sermon that had been niggling at the back of my head all week.  It was the one that I wanted to preach in the first place, but since it wasn't lectionary-based, I wasn't going to preach it.  But G-d is bigger than the lectionary.  And He always gets His way in the end.
    As I sat at church tonight, watching congregants come in, praying away the headache that had showed up about 2 hours earlier and was threatening to turn into a migraine and turning myself completely over to the Spirit, a congregant named Dick came up and grabbed my hand.  Dick was beaming from ear to ear and told me that he had been hoping that I'd be the preacher tonight.  I can't quite explain how that made me feel.  It was definitely a confidence and morale booster.  These people are becoming my congregation.  These are my people, the ones who know my name and who look forward to the weeks when I get to preach.   It was a good reminder of why I'm in seminary.
    Afterwards, another congregant came up to me with tears threatening to spill out of her eyes I told me that I'd hit the nail on the head.  That my overarching illustration had met her right where she was at.  Incredible.  I'd been a little nervous that I was stretching things a bit.
    My confidence is building and I'm starting to stray more from my manuscript.  I still like having it there, but I'm not as tied to it as I used to be.  I even came out from behind the pulpit tonight during the scripture reading!
    Without further ado, here is my manuscript.  For those of you who aren't interested in reading it, there is nothing following it so you can stop reading now. :)



    Your order of worship today says that my sermon is titled “Expect the Unexpected” and that my text comes from Matthew 14.  I hope you really did expect the unexpected because I will not be preaching from Matthew 14 this evening.  Rather, I will be preaching from 1 Corinthians 12:12-28.  That passage is found on page 1114  of your Bibles.  Listen now to the word of the Lord.
    Read 1 Corinthians 12:12-28 about the body of Christ.
    Living in North America with modern medicine, we all have a pretty decent idea of how the body needs all of its parts to function properly, except perhaps the appendix.  We seem to do just fine without that.  We also know what happens when our bodies fail to function properly.   If one part isn’t working correctly or if one part is in pain, the entire body is affected.  Most of us don’t need reminded of that truth.  And we’ve probably all heard sermons drawing parallels between our human bodies and the church, since that is the metaphor presented in this passage.   I could preach another one of those sermons, but it wouldn’t really tell you anything new. And, if you are anything like my father or grandfather, your eyelids would start to droop and you’d drift off before I got halfway through.  So that’s not the sermon I’m going to preach.  Instead, I’m going to draw on a different analogy.  You can tell me afterwards if it worked for you or not.
    I don’t know how many of you are sports fans in general or how many of you are fans of competitive swimming in particular, but I am a swimmer.  I used to swim competitively, but haven’t raced formally in almost 8 years.  That doesn’t mean that swimming has left my blood.  I think it’s there to stay.
    Growing up in rural Ontario we did not have the luxury of an indoor pool. The closest indoor pool was 45 minutes to an hour away.  Instead we had the local outdoor pool which was open for about two and a half months a year, typically from mid-June until the end of August.  Which meant our swimming season was short and intense. It also meant that we didn’t stand a chance against the clubs that could practice year round.  But that wasn’t a problem because we had our own association of swim teams, all of which had equally short seasons and practiced at outdoor pools.  There have always been 6 or 7 teams in the association depending on the current political situation.
    A swimmer’s season consists mostly of practicing. For the outdoor recreational clubs, such as the one I belong to, it means practices with the team two to three times a week for an hour or two at a time, and as many individual practices as you can fit it or are committed to.  But the big excitement is Saturday morning.  That’s when the rubber meets the road or in this case, the bodies meet the water.   Our swim meets are Saturday mornings, three times during the summer and one big final meet for the ribbons and trophies at the end of the year.   It takes a lot of people to run a swim meet, and unless you’ve ever been part of the organization or running crew, you probably don’t realize it.   But every person there is crucial.
    This is the place I am inviting you to journey to with me.  To one of those Saturday morning meets.  Meet the people involved in running a meet.  Then I will share with you how this fits into our passage for tonight.
    Firstly, there are the coaches, who never ever get enough recognition.  Most of them are volunteer coaches who donate time to coach these swimmers.  They spend time that they could spend earning money guarding at their local pool or teaching private lessons to coach the swimmers.  Not only are they at every practice and every meet, they spend time outside of that putting together relay teams, entering swimmers in meets, ordering matching racing suits if that is what the club has decided they want to do for that year, and a million other tasks that I can only begin to imagine.  The coaches are usually among the first to arrive at meets and the last to leave. They make sure their swimmers get to the right races at the right time, they encourage the first time swimmers that they really can do this, comfort the swimmers who have gotten disqualified on a technicality and go to bat for the swimmers who feel they’ve been treated unjustly.  They also have to deal with the parents, a job I do not often envy!
    Secondly, there is the marshalling team.  Marshalling, when related to swimming, is the act of assigning swimmers to heats and lanes, which sounds quite simple, but it’s not. The marshalling team starts working on Thursday, inputting all entries into a computer program and assigning heats and lanes electronically.  The computer person on the marshalling team makes sure that during the first three meets that there is never a pool with just swimmers from one team in it and that heats are roughly based on time so that you don’t have the fastest swimmer in an event swimming against the slowest swimmer, because that would be a really boring race.  The computer person also strives to make sure the pool is all the way full, every time, so that the meet doesn’t drag on forever and ever.  Sometimes that means getting really.  For the final meet every heat of every event has to be arranged according to time down to the hundredth of a second.   She also gets to deal with coaches who keep trying to enter late swimmers at the last minute.
    Once the computer person is done with her job the entire file is sent to the very important people on the marshalling team who print “cards” for each swimmer.  A card is like an entry ticket.  You need your card to swim your race.  It has the swimmer’s name, team, event number, and heat-lane assignment on it.   Before computers took over the world, coaches had to write all this cards by hand and marshalling just had to sort, seed and put heat-lane numbers on them.  Computers have eliminated that step.  The card printers print the cards and sort them into the marshalling box, a water-resistant file box that keeps the cards separated by event. 
    Then, also on the marshalling team is the grand or head marshal and her assistant or assistants.  They have final say on which heat-lane a swimmer swims in and they hand out cards.   The grand marshal stands before chatty children and indifferent teens all Saturday morning calling names, handing out cards, and seating heats on the marshalling benches or chairs, so that they are ready for their races.  The grand marshal is responsible for always knowing what event is in the pool, which events have been called to the marshalling area and when to call the next set of events.  I don’t envy her job at all either.   Her assistants make sure that to always have the next event’s cards ready to go, deal with last minute changes such as a coach or parent pulling a swimmer from an event or no-shows.  The assistant also moves the swimmers from the final bench to the end of the pool, ensuring one last time that every swimmer is at the right lane, or if it is a hundred meter relay event, the right end of the pool, as well as the right lane. 
    Thirdly, there is the starter.  He calls each heat to the starting blocks or pool edge, and starts each race with either a whistle or a starting pistol.  He’s responsible for judging false starts and takes a lot of flak from parents and coaches if they don’t agree with his call.
    Fourthly are the timers.  Their job is exactly what it sounds like, timing the races.  There are 2-3 timers for every lane.  They start the stopwatches when the starter starts the race and stop them as soon as the swimmer touches in.  They also record the times on the cards.  Scoring will take the middle of the three times or an average of the three.  Timers have to stay very focussed and watch carefully.  No matter what happens, they have to keep their eyes on the swimmer in their lane. They get splashed during starts and finishes which some weeks is blessing and they wish there was more of it and other weeks a part of their job that they dread.  Without the timers, the winner of the race would be a guessing game.
    Then there are the scorers.  They enter the times that the timers wrote down into a fantabulous computer program that decides who won each race and outputs a results list, in order by time, with finishing times, for every swimmer in each event.  The scorers are big fans of the computer program because it’s so much easier than sorting the swimmers based on time by hand and writing out the results list.  The scorers also assign points for the top finishers and calculate point scores for each individual team.
    Then there are the lifeguards.  Sometimes I envy their job - except when the weather is miserable.  Guarding a swim meet is probably the easiest jobs a life guard will ever have since everyone competing knows how to swim.  In all the years that I’ve been involved in the swim meet, the guards have only had to respond twice –once because a swimmer dislocated his shoulder and once because a swimmer passed out in the water due to an acute asthma attack.  In both cases, the timers, coaches and runners and responded first.  The lifeguards mostly had to do the paperwork.  They don’t even find out about the routine asthma attacks, heat stroke, hypothermia and backstroke-concussions until after the meet is over, if they find out at all, but without them there, there could not legally be a swim meet.
    Throughout all this are the runners.  The runners are often senior swimmers, or swimmers who have just aged out of competing but aren’t ready to let go yet.  They may be even more overlooked than the coaches, but they are just as crucial.  The runners belong to every part of running a swim meet.  They carry messages from the marshalling team to the starter, they carry cards from swimmers to timers in 25 meter events, they carry cards from timers to scoring, they post the results lists, the bring bottled water to the marshalling team and the starter and the timers and the scorers, they hold the kickboards in the water for the backstrokers so that there are no serious concussions.  They actually get to run on the pool deck without getting in trouble.
    Then there are the parents.  The parents are the ones that bring their swimmers to every practice and every meet.  They are the ones that sit outside with little shelter since pools are notoriously bad at having shelter, from 7:15am until the meet is over, often early afternoon.  They are there rain or shine, hot or cold.  They bring snacks (it’s amazing how much food swimmers can put away) and extra towels and dry clothes and water and hot chocolate and sunscreen.  And they cheer the swimmers on.  Not just their own swimmer or their own team, but everyone.  Of course, they cheer loudest for one of their own.  And, they cheer knowing full well, that when you’re in the pool you can’t hear anything except for a dull roaring from around the pool.  If you’re a little swimmer struggling to finish your race, everyone knows your name and they all cheer for you by name.  If you’re a baby and get passed around a lot because your mom is on deck marshalling or timing, everyone knows which team you belong to and they always give you back.  Parents are the ones who make up almost all of the other jobs, except for runners, though sometimes a parent will be a runner.  They volunteer to time and to marshal and to help score.  Without them, none of the positions would be filled.
    So, so far we have the coaches, the card printers, the marshalling team, including the head marshal and the assistant marshals, the starter, the life guards, the runners and the parents.  They’re all very important to a swim meet, but without the swimmers, there would be no swim meet at all.
    The swimmers are the ones that show up to practices week after week.  They are the ones who never give up, even if they never win.  They are the ones who give up Saturday morning cartoons to go to a swim meet. They show up for a swim meet, no matter what the weather is.  And they swim.  They are in the pool for warm-ups at 7:30 am every Saturday morning - except one…Canada has a random holiday weekend the beginning of August.  There’s no meet that weekend.  They swim when it’s raining out, but not when there is thunder or lightening.  They swim when it is snowing out, which has only happened once as far as I can remember. For the record, that was not a fun meet.  They swim when it is cold and windy and the last thing anyone would want is to be wet. And they swim when it’s hot out and you can’t leave wet footprints on the pool deck because it evaporates too fast.  They range in age from preschoolers to 18.  You can start competing as soon as you can get yourself from one end of the pool to the other without assistance.  Some of them have been swimming for years, others are just starting.  Without the swimmers there would be no swim teams and no swim meets.
    The church is very much like a swim meet.  There are lots of different jobs in the church and they are all very important.  If the head marshal didn’t show up for a swim meet, there would be chaos.  If the timers weren’t there, the scorers wouldn’t have any times to calculate scores from.  If the scorers didn’t figure out results, the point of the meet would be lost.  If the swimmers weren’t there, there would be no meet at all. 
    Some jobs don’t seem very important.  Most people don’t even know who the computer person is, but if she didn’t do her job, the card printers and marshalling team would have nothing to work with, the swimmers wouldn’t be able to swim, the starter wouldn’t be able to start the races, the timers would have nothing to time, the scorers would have nothing to score, the parents would have no one to cheer, the runners would have nothing to run.  It’s a small invisible job, but if it doesn’t get done, everything falls apart.  If any of the jobs don’t get done, things fall apart.   It’s the same in the church.  Maybe you don’t see the cleaning staff or know their names, but if they don’t do their jobs, the church would fall into disrepair.   If the secretary didn’t do her job, you’d have no order of worship (hold up order of worship) or church newsletter and no one would know what was going on.  If people didn’t volunteer to serve coffee after the service, you’d all go home without coffee and a time of fellowship.  If no one volunteered to teach Sunday school your children or grandchildren, nieces and nephews wouldn’t have teachers.
    Other jobs seem very important, but they depend on a lot of other jobs and come with a lot of responsibility.  Everyone knows who the head marshal is at a swim meet.  It’s been the same person for over a dozen years now.  But she has a lot of responsibility and puts up with a fair bit of the fall out if something goes wrong. Same with the starter and the coaches.  Everyone knows who they are, but if something goes wrong, they’re the ones who have to deal with the angry parents. Everyone in the church knows who the pastor is. The pastor also has a huge amount of responsibility and the pastor is the one who gets to deal with upset congregants as well as the everyday affairs of the church.  It’s an important job, but also a job with a lot of responsibility.
    Not everyone can do every job.  Not every parent volunteer as the organization skills to be a head marshal or the computer skills to do the job of the computer person, or the resources to be a card printer, but every parent can do something, even if it is just being a team parent and looking after swimmers while other parents volunteer to be timers or runners.  Not everyone in the church can do every job.  Not everyone is called to be a pastor or a secretary or an elder or deacon, but everyone is called to something.   Paul lists some things that people within the church are called to: apostles, teachers, healers, helpers, administrators, and others.  Not everyone can do every job, but everyone can do something.
    Maybe it’s been years since you taught a Sunday School class, but just because you are a more mature member of the body doesn’t mean you are no longer called to be part of it.  Maybe the thought of teaching Sunday school terrifies you, but you’d like to help serve coffee or help with an outreach program or mentor a young person.  Maybe you are a young person and don’t think you can be part of the body yet, but the church needs every part.  Maybe you can get involved helping in nursery or helping pick up orders of worship after the service on Sunday, or if you’re an older younger person, maybe you can help with Sunday school or children’s ministry.    Maybe you want to write letters to the missionaries.  I encourage you to figure out where you can serve and become an active member of the body.   The church needs you, just like the swim team needs every member and volunteer it has.  Regardless of how small or big, invisible or visible, insignificant or significant a job seems, it is an important job and keeps the body of Christ running smoothly.
    You are the body of Christ and each one of you is a part of it.  What part are you going to be?
    Amen.

    Tuesday, March 15, 2011

    The First Time Can Only Happen Once...

    It seems kind of self explanatory, you can only do something for the first time once, but it's easy to forget.  Sometimes, when we look at our churches, we try and look a them with the eyes of a first time visitor, but really, we can't do that.  Sometimes, we need a real first time visitor to come look with fresh eyes, but that isn't always practical.  So, what we can do, is try and look with fresh eyes.  Maybe visit a church that is new to you.  Pay attention to what you notice/don't notice and then come back to your church and look for those things.
    One Sunday in February I visited a new to me church (I wrote about it some in the post entitled "come, for all things are now ready"). What I have to say next might sound highly critical of the church.  In some ways it is, and I feel badly about that, but at the same time, I want to be honest about how I experienced this, in the hopes that it will encourage everyone who reads this to look more critically at their own churches.
     My visit to the church started before I actually got there.  Because of the role I was going to be playing in the service, it was going to be important that I could hear what was happening. Otherwise, the group I was working with was going to have to make some changes.  We wanted to know so we could plan ahead.  I started by visiting the church website, looking to see if they had a sound loop or FM systems available. Their website was less than helpful.  There was no statement of accessibility of any kind on their website.  They even had a link to their bulletin for the Sunday I was going to be there.  I read through it, hoping for some statement of accessibility. Nothing.  To raise my anxiety, the picture of the church on the website looked as if it was a great big, old, beautiful church building.  I love old beautiful church buildings, but typically, they are inaccessible.  We decided to wait until we got there and see how bad things were.
    We arrived at the church in good time, about half an hour before the service, mainly because we had to practice. I looked at the doors as we entered, hoping to see the familiar blue sign indicating the presence of the a hearing loop. There was none.  I look at the door to the sanctuary, hoping that there would be a loop (that would make things a lot easier for me).  There was no familiar blue sign.  Since I was there way early, and since, because of the role I was playing in the service I need to talk with the sound technician anyways, I asked him if the sanctuary was looped.  It was, which was a great thing for being able to hear the sermon.  However, the loop did not include the stage, which meant it was not very helpful for me being able to hear while I was on the stage (perhaps the most critical place for me to actually be able to hear what was going on that morning).  I was frustrated, both by the lack of signage indicating the presence of a loop, and by the fact that it didn't encompass the stage.  The first frustration was the greatest though.  I was there in plenty of time and need to speak with the sound technician anyways, so I could ask about it and get my answers.  A "regular" visitor would have had no way of knowing that the sanctuary was looped.  
    I was already in a state of judging accessibility in the church, so I kept my eyes open to see their strengths and weaknesses.  Unfortunately, I didn't see many strengths. Their sanctuary was beautiful, with smooth wooden pews (very fun for sliding on), but there were no "short pews" to allow for wheelchairs to be present in the sanctuary in a non-conspicuous way. There was a wheelchair lift to allow wheelchairs to come up to the level of the sanctuary, but it was one that needed a key to operate it.  A visitor would not immediately know who to ask for the key.  I can't judge how conscientious the church was about having a person with the key (or a person who knew where the key was) at the bottom of the elevator (on the main level...the sanctuary was up a flight of stairs) to assist visitors because no one in our group was in a wheelchair.
    I also didn't get a chance to check out the restrooms, but based on what I was seeing in the rest of the church, my hopes weren't too high.
    The big thing that struck me about this visit, and what I took away from it is that accommodations are only useful if people know they are there.  If your church has accommodations available, make sure you publicize them.  If you offer gluten free communion, list the ingredients of the gluten free bread/wafer you use in your bulletin and on your website (people with gluten allergies may often have other food allergies as well) and make sure it is correct.  Check it frequently (every time you buy new bread or wafers!)  If you have a sound loop, make sure signage is in place at your church and on your website.  If you have FM systems available, make sure people know.  Same with large print hymnals or orders of worship.  It's great to have accommodations, but they are going to be under-used if people don't know they are there.