Brokenness

Last night, my wife and I sat on the couch enjoying a relaxing evening in front of the TV, watching some of our favorite shows that we had recorded in the last week. We finished the last one we were going to watch for the night, and the TV switched over to the regular TV stations. It happened to be tuned into CNN, which was showing Anderson Cooper 360. And, rather than the obligatory coverage of the tight Democratic primary race, or the changes in New Orleans since the show’s last visit to the city (Anderson Cooper was on site in N.O.), the show was showing breaking news coverage on the shooting spree that happened inside a lecture hall at Northern Illinois University yesterday.

The two of us just sat numbed, in shock. It can’t be good when such stories have become routine, when the images of people fleeing for their lives is as normal in real life as it is inside the suspended disbelief of a movie theater. What is it that has happened in the last ten or fifteen years that has brought us to the point of wondering whether colleges could ever be safe, whether a trip to a mall for a day out could ever be relaxing again, whether any public place is really safe again. I know many places in the world deal with this, and have dealt with this for long years. But it’s new here, to me.

I wonder what we can do for my generation and the one after (those born post 1975) to curb the pain, the frustration, the loss of grounding that is spinning us out of control. It’s not for want of the knowledge of the message those of us who follow Christ know we need to share. There’s something else missing. Whether it is what we are saying, how we are saying it, or some other thing, I don’t know. Publishing houses make money off of those arguing to figure it out. But something has to change. Our ministry as a church must change and meet the needs of those who are hurting and broken. We aren’t doing it now.

Change

It has been a year and a half since I began ministering here in New Jersey. Hard to believe it has been that long. Hard to believe it has only been that long.

When I interviewed for the position, I was told that part of my duties under the worship half of my job description would be to transition the church from organ-led traditional worship to a blended style of worship that includes organ/traditional music and other instrument/contemporary worship. (Caveat: I don’t think that an organ necessitates traditional or can’t be contemporary, but it certainly is not done in my current context, and I can’t exactly imagine “Blessed Be Your Name” from an organ.) I had made significant headway in that area at the previous congregation I served, so I was not intimidated by such a task. Taking a cue from an adjunct professor from seminary, I declared my intention to not introduce change until I had observed the church for a year.

The year was up last August, and, on cue, I began introducing new songs. At a board meeting in December, the discussion about the pace of change came up, and the general consensus was that things were not happening fast enough. The impression was that the congregation wanted more, more, more. So I revved things up quite a bit and started introducing more new music.

So this month, at another board meeting, the general consensus was that I am going to fast. Too much new. Too quickly. And I just find that ironic.

Generally, I like to introduce a song and sing it three weeks in a row, and then continue for a few additional weeks with familiar songs before introducing the next new song. I thought that is what I was doing. And I said so at the board meeting. I wanted further instruction on where the middle road was between the “not enough” of December and the “too much” of February. This morning I went back through all of the orders of service since August and reviewed what we have sung when, and how often. Turns out I haven’t been doing such a good job with my intended approach for introducing new songs. That’s what I get for being high and mighty and thinking that I know best automatically.

Nothing like a kick in the pants to get you back to where you need to be. Or should I say, get me back to where I need to be?

Fortunately, the church really does want the change. I’m thankful for a community that is willing to walk along the path together, and even follow someone who stumbles along, such as me.

Pressing on

I just reread my last post…written three months ago now.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, and our annual church business meeting have all come and gone and my ministry seems to have been largely unaffected by those events back in November. I consider myself very blessed to be in the community of faith in which I minister. The people proved to be very understanding. Large numbers of the congregation came up to me to encourage me by their own tales of having to face professional councils or exams multiple times to be certified for their careers. It was a relief.

We may have another go at the ordination thing come late spring. We’ll see…other things may get in the way of that. Initially, I piled up large stacks of books from my library to help me rework my ordination paper and retool my arguments. But they have mostly gathered dust. Orders of service, choir selections, Sunday school classes, and the many other details of ministry have come to the forefront, as it should be.

In the end, I am pretty sure that I just pushed too quickly. I brought up the idea for the ordination council, even though I have long believed that ordination is a function of the church, not the minister. Therefore, it should be the church that presses the issue, not me. And there are many other things that I pushed through that I probably would not do the same way, and would have regretted had the ordination gone through. God is gracious, even in the muck and mire of misery. Family, friends, and congregation members all hold me and my wife up in their prayers, and the effects are noticeable. I am not nearly as bitter as I thought I would be, and that is a blessing all to itself.

I hope to get back to writing more. Thanks for your prayers, whoever reads this.