Faith Works 6-23-18

Faith Works 6-23-18

Jeff Gill

 

Taking a break, making connections

___

 

We're in a stretch of the longest days of the year, the shortest nights. Summer began Thursday, and for a few days we get over 15 hours of daylight.

 

Add in an hour of dawn and an hour of twilight, and you have no more than seven hours of darkness. The long evenings are the heart of what most of us think about as summertime.

 

Sunday mornings the sun usually long precedes even our early activities. I get used to leaving for church in the starry dark much of winter, but now the sun is rising as I'm heading out.

 

But sometime soon I'll be on vacation, on the road. A number of roads, even!

 

I like going to church on the road. Worship is not something I take a break from; on vacation, I still breath and eat and circulate my bloodstream, so I don't see summertime as an interval when I pause in giving thanks, in seeking God. It's all a part of me, and a part I can cultivate and develop and grow.

 

Yes, I'm a parish pastor, so there's a practical side to these visits, not only spirituality. I learn from other congregations, different services, various locations. In amphitheaters in national parks, resort community meeting halls, churches on out of the way roads.

 

Sometimes, I learn that I'm glad my church does what it does, and am glad we worship as we do. Other times, I pick up a hint or a clue or some idea I can take home and try here in Licking County.

 

Not many years ago, I got up and snuck out of a hotel when my traveling party was sleeping in after a long night before, ducking into a nearby church. They weren't sorry I came, they weren't happy to see me. I felt . . . invisible. I thought "this is a great learning opportunity in how NOT to welcome a visitor!"

 

And on my way out, a member trotted down the path towards the parking lot to intercept me, to apologize. It was the darndest experience. She wanted to apologize for how everyone treated me in the post-service melee in the aisle and narthex (I had tried to greet the pastor, looked around to be sociable, and after staring at enough backs facing me, decided it was the better part of valor to depart).

 

"I saw how they behaved in there. They aren't bad people, but they're not used to visitors." Cruelly, I couldn't resist asking back "And they don't get many second time visitors, do they?"

 

She looked at me sadly. "No, we don't. And that's why, you're right."

 

I assured her I appreciated her outreach, and I might have tried one more time but was leaving town that afternoon – we agreed to pray for each other, instead, and I still do.

 

When my wife and I visited Los Alamos, New Mexico a few years ago (long story), we went to church and were literally swamped with hospitality, and in a desert environment that takes some doing! I honestly wished I could go back to the United Church of Los Alamos, and hope to one day. They had a number of things going on that I noted for future reference back home in Ohio.

 

Church on the road is both a ritual observance and a breaking of familiar patterns. Whether you go somewhere different than you usually do, or just pray on your own in a hotel room before packing, you get to look at the shape of a week, the start of it in thanksgiving and mindfulness, the act of worship itself in new and thought-provoking ways.

 

I would love to hear about your experiences of unfamiliar but connective worship this summer!

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him about your church on the road experiences at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Notes From My Knapsack 6-21-18

Notes From My Knapsack 6-21-18

Jeff Gill

 

Depression, Anxiety, and Community

___

 

If I were to tell you that 30% of our school children had head lice, you'd definitely read the rest of this column.

 

I did say "if" and I am glad this is well into the summer so no one can glance across this and get the wrong idea. They don't.

 

But if I said 30% or more of Granville Schools kids had head lice, I think I'm not getting too far out on a limb to say that the school administration would have a head lice task force, and also the families and parent associations and community as a whole would be responding in a variety of ways (the CVS would be selling out of certain products, I'm sure). Our local culture would respond somehow: maybe head shaving would come into fashion, or folks would compare recipes of mayonnaise and olive oil hair treatments and buy shower caps with hip, cool logos and colors. It would be the talk of Broadway.

 

A district in Connecticut has been in the news lately, Wilton High School. You can look up more online by searching them, but the upshot is that a survey done their found high levels of sadness, anxiety, and depression, at or higher than those found in . . . wait for it . . . war zones or inner city schools with major social and economic issues.

 

And Wilton, Connecticut sounds an awful lot like Granville.

 

Meanwhile, we hear from the CDC that the national suicide rate is up some 30%, with Ohio up around 36%. Suicide is the tenth most common cause of death in the United States, and on the increase; among young people it's more like second place.

 

Granville Schools have been putting a priority on mental and social health in recent years; they have a Wellness Committee, and the school counselors at all levels, but especially in the high school, have been working on promoting mental health and positive coping skills for years. Alongside of county initiatives like "Our Futures" which is sponsored by the Mental Health and Recovery Board of Licking & Knox Counties, and Licking Memorial Health Systems, the school staff and teachers are all aware of the pressure our students are under. Some self-imposed, not a little of it imposed by our general expectations as a community. We're a high achieving kind of place, and we have many unspoken as well as obvious expectations about doing well, and doing better than that.

 

Wilton took it on themselves to look honestly at the levels of anxiety and stress in their high school, and found out that 30% of their students had head lice. Wait, no, strike that.

 

If that many students had lead lice, we'd all know pretty much exactly what to do. If our youth have documentable, measurable levels of anxiety and stress well above the norm, there's no simple prescription shampoo or designer shower camp we can purchase. It takes – as does fighting head lice, actually, or bed bugs – changes in behavior, in assumptions, in actions.

 

As a community, I'd love to give us a place to talk about some of those changes and adjustments we need. And for those who find the pressures of life and the impact of depression hurting more and more, as well as for those who love them, there's help a phone call away: the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255, and our local 2-1-1 operated by Pathways is there to advise or help.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's not sure you caught it the first time, so: the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255. Or you can email him for the number at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter. Or call 2-1-1!

 

 

Faith Works 6-16-18

Faith Works 6-16-18

Jeff Gill

 

Everything to live for

___

 

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

1-800-273-8255

 

You'll see that number again. It's not the only option, but it's the most immediately accessible one, whether you're reading this in print, on a computer, or off of your phone. You may even be able to click directly on it.

 

Locally, we have 2-1-1. Basically, the same deal, shorter string of numbers, but trained and prepared counselors at Pathways here in Newark. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline folks have much the same skills and experience, and if that's where you'd rather call, try 1-800-273-8255 but just 2-1-1 will do.

 

What won't do is silence. Evasion. Denial. I am a pastor and also a mediator with lots of community involvement in responding to abuse and neglect of children and also homelessness . . . so I'm familiar with denial. Avoiding inevitable problems past the point of common sense or sweet reason. Not confronting real issues while you still can change something. Everyone can play.

 

But silence and stigma and nervousness around saying something offensive or just being wrong has helped get us to where the national suicide rate is up 30% in the United States, says the CDC, and in Ohio it's closer to 36%. Around four a day in our state alone. It's the tenth most frequent cause of death, and rising; it's the second most likely reason for the death of a young person.

 

We've tried not talking about it. Hiding the supposedly shameful fact of a family member dying by their own hand. We worry about talking about the wrong things, and I do believe that discussion in media or general conversation about details of the "how" can be dangerously counterproductive, but trying to hide the reality of suicide does not seem to reduce the frequency of the impulse.

 

There's much more known about depression and anxiety and other illnesses which can trigger both those issues and create hallucinations or confusion which hitch up to the deep sorrow and driving hopelessness to pull the sufferer into a deeper hole.

 

Celebrities and neighbors alike are said to be "the last person you would have thought" or "they had everything to live for." So often, after the shock wears off, over time the friends and family start to realize there were signs, dark hints, blatant statements that everyone else laughed off nervously. Even so, to ask "are you thinking about hurting yourself?" seems wrong, forward, pushy.

 

To inquire "have you taken steps to plan doing that?" I think we flinch from for fear someone we know might say "actually, yes" because then we aren't sure what to do next.

 

This is where the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is not just for a depressed person to call for a friendly voice to help talk them into a better viewpoint, although at 1-800-273-8255 they're willing to do just that. But you can call that same number to say "I have this friend, and…"

 

Will they wonder if you're not talking about yourself? Actually, they've heard it all. "Calling for a friend" does happen, but that's cool, too; and lots of actual friends call because they're not sure how to talk to their actual friend who is actually giving away their most precious possessions, and someone read online somewhere that this might be a sign of . . . maybe? You know? So should I . . . ?

 

It's all good. If you have questions, make the call. They're happy to help, or give you other guidance in your community, whatever direction the conversation takes you.

 

In religious circles, there has been a general assumption in the past that suicide was a unique challenge to faith, and a completed suicide an offense against God. While it certainly is not what any loving Lord I can conceive of would want for any of us, we're all sinners (says my Christian background, anyhow), and I'm generally reluctant to start ranking sin. Sin is bad, holiness is good, and God wants the good for us. Suicide is not good.

 

But for someone to be considering suicide doesn't mean they're considering a greater slight against a good God than any other of our many ways to rebel against the Lord's plan, and yes, I think that includes eating that second cream-filled. We all kick against the Lord's best for us in many ways. We all need guidance and mentorship and help to find the path to holiness. That includes medical assistance if we've broken an arm, counseling if our heart is well and truly broken, medications if our thinking is busted.

 

Or calling the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's helped people make just that call many times. Tell him how you've been helped by such a call or contact at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

 

Faith Works 6-9-18 re-edited for clarity!

Faith Works 6-9-18

Jeff Gill

 

When you know what you don't know
___

 

 

Ministers in full-time calls to serve congregations used to stay on average about four years or so, and now it's more like six.

 

Last week I noted this shift, perhaps a trend, perhaps not, but it marks where I'm at as of this week . . . and that this is a new place to be, for me.

 

Averages mean, of course, that you have about as many tenures above that figure as below. The church I serve has had fourteen and sixteen year pastorates in the last seventy-five years, as well as a couple of three or five year stays. I'm the ninth pastor of this congregation since World War II began, and that makes our church stand out, with a nine year average term of service in the modern era (we go back to 1884, but the early years had some high turnover for understandable reasons).

 

In general, traditional denominational Protestant churches have tended towards short pastorates, and the thinking today is that this has contributed to a fair amount of instability, not just for clergy and their families but for their churches in general. That realization may be one of the reasons for longer tenures, but other factors are in play.

 

Some of this is due to Baby Boomer pastors delaying retirement. I could write a whole column on Boomers and retirement, but we'll save that for another day. There's plenty of room to say it's due to better health and simply the ability to serve longer, but reason to worry that some of it has to do with fiscal pressures keeping preachers working past where they'd really like to, so they can afford to retire some day.

 

And more constructively, there's just an awareness, especially among younger "Gen X" preachers, that the so-called career path in ministry is largely a myth. "Moving up" isn't all it's cracked up to be, and sometimes, it's a bad move both spiritually and practically.

 

Fiscally, though, moving is harder than it was just a decade, let alone two decades ago. This gets into the complexities of health insurance, how church groups are handling those matters, and the shift to spousal coverage as the primary way ministers gain access to health insurance. In general, a pastoral move doesn't take place for the same reasons they used to.

 

I'd like to think that a big reason for the increase in pastoral stability is because of increasing awareness and understanding that when you are called to a community, you have to develop relationships and build your connections over a long arc. Your ministry needs the deep roots of lengthy service to start showing some fruit.

 

This is where I draw no little encouragement from older and wiser colleagues who say that it's only in your sixth and seventh years in a church that you really start to know your setting, to understand your calling in that context, to be able to develop ministries and mission and evangelism that's really what God is calling you to proclaim.

 

Yes, there's what's called a "honeymoon" period where you can get away with making changes that in years four or five folks will push back against . . . but I believe there's a period of trust and partnership coming after six or seven years where you can present a vision for a church as a leader that people will hear and respond to in partnership, as fellow laborers in a shared vineyard.

 

It does take almost six years to know where the light switches are without looking, to understand the unspoken assumptions that everyone works under, to come to a comprehension of the stories not told that are as important as the tales that are retold and repeated with pride and confidence.

 

Some of that six or seven year horizon, I'd argue, has something to do with healing and recovery and restoration. Most communities have old wounds and ancient pains, including faith communities, which need a new balm from Gilead to come and ease the ailments and injuries of the past. Once those scars heal over, then new growth can occur.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's been serving for six years, or you might say ten years, where he is ministering now. You can ask him to explain that at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter. 

Faith Works 6-9-18

Faith Works 6-9-18

Jeff Gill

 

When you know what you don't know
___

  

Ministers in full-time calls to serve congregations used to stay on average about four years or so, and now it's more like six.

 

Last week I noted this shift, perhaps a trend, perhaps not, but it marks where I'm at as of this week . . . and that this is a new place to be, for me.

 

Averages mean, of course, that you have about as many tenures above that figure as below. The church I serve has had fourteen and sixteen year pastorates in the last seventy-five years, as well as a couple of three or five year stays. I'm the ninth pastor of this congregation since World War II began, and that makes our church stand out, with a nine year average term of service in the modern era (we go back to 1884, but the early years had some high turnover for understandable reasons).

 

In general, traditional denominational Protestant churches have tended towards short pastorates, and the thinking today is that this has contributed to a fair amount of instability, not just for clergy and their families but for their churches in general. That realization may be one of the reasons for longer tenures, but other factors are in play.

 

Some of this is due to Baby Boomer pastors delaying retirement. I could write a whole column on Boomers and retirement, but we'll save that for another day. There's plenty of room to say it's due to better health and simply the ability to serve longer, but reason to worry that much of it has to do with fiscal pressures keeping some preachers working past where they'd really like to, so they can afford to retire later.

 

And more constructively, there's just an awareness, especially among younger "Gen X" preachers, that the so-called career path in ministry is largely a myth. "Moving up" isn't all it's cracked up to be, and sometimes, it's a bad move both spiritually and practically.

 

Fiscally, though, moving is harder than it was just a decade, let alone two decades ago. This gets into the complexities of health insurance, how church groups are handling those matters, and the shift to spousal coverage as the primary way ministers gain access to health insurance, but in general a pastoral move doesn't take place for the same reasons they used to.

 

I'd like to think that a big reason for the increase in pastoral time in a certain place is because of increasing awareness and understanding that when you are called to a community, you have to develop relationships and build your connections over a long arc. Your ministry needs the deep roots of lengthy service to start showing some fruit.

 

This is where I draw no little encouragement from older and wiser colleagues who say that it's only in your sixth and seventh years in a church that you really start to know your setting, to understand your calling in that context, to be able to develop ministries and mission and evangelism that's really what God is calling you to proclaim.

 

Yes, there's what's called a "honeymoon" period where you can get away with making changes that in years four or five folks will push back against . . . but I believe there's a period of trust and partnership coming after six or seven years where you can present a vision for a church as a leader that people will hear and respond to in partnership, as fellow laborers in a shared vineyard.

 

It does take almost six years to know where the light switches are without looking, to understand the unspoken assumptions that everyone works under, to come to a comprehension of the stories not told that are as important as the tales that are retold and repeated with pride and confidence.

 

Some of that six or seven year horizon, I'd argue, has something to do with healing and recovery and restoration. Most communities have old wounds and ancient pains which need a new balm from Gilead to come and ease the ailments and injuries of the past. Once those scars heal over, then new growth can occur.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's lived here for many years, but has been in a regular pulpit now for six years. Tell him what's changed since 2012 for you in faith formation and leadership development at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.