Faith Works 9-1-18

Faith Works 9-1-18

Jeff Gill

 

A prayer intentionally incomplete

___

 

 

Wiser pastors than I have pointed out the dramatic offer we make to God if we pray for ourselves the Lord's Prayer, and include the words "thy will be done."

 

Whether on earth or in heaven, to pray "thy will be done" is to put ourselves in the hands of God entirely. That's the pivot point of the well known prayer, and a hinge we tend not to focus on, looking ahead to what's on the other side of the door.

 

If we are truly praying "thy will be done," we're putting our faith in God, and we're stating our acceptance in advance of what will come, even before we know what it is. That's hard, unless we don't really mean it . . . in which case, they're just words we say.

 

Recently I've had a hatful of experiences that remind me of the need to have, at the very least, a different approach to prayer as petition. When we ask God for certain blessings, when we're making requests, there's a kind of request we could make that I don't think we often remember to ask for.

 

There are areas in my life where God has been remarkably faithful. I've been blessed with the ability to speak and preach and write and serve. That doesn't mean that the ideas or inspiration or messages just show up fully developed on command. They take time.

 

Likewise, my journey in ministry has gone from the shores of Lake Michigan to small country frame buildings to brick churches in, say, Newark, Ohio. I've always had a sense of where in general God wanted me to go, but often the next steps for getting there have been obscured, or even invisible.

 

What I've learned to pray for, and have to keep relearning to request in prayer, is a sense of confidence that the answer will come. Does that make sense? Do you see what I'm asking for? Not the clarity of "where will we move to next" but a holy sense of "there will be a place that will be right for us, and we will know it when that time comes."

 

There's a practical side to the theology behind this, as I read it. God has granted us freedom, a gift of grace to be part of creation; that freedom we can use to choose to follow God's highest desire for us, or we can use it to serve ourselves, and separate ourselves from God's intention . . . for a season. The tendency to choose for selfish reasons is what we call sin; the impetus to choose for heavenly purposes we call holiness. But we do choose.

 

And in every hard choice, I am rarely involved alone. There are others involved, other choices and choosers to take into account. Perhaps God can't show me a specific outcome no matter how sincerely I ask because there are other free souls at work to make their own choices, and God's path for me could be in one direction or another. Even in wrestling with a sermon, there's the possibility that God is ready to use the moment in one way or another depending on what certain hearers need to receive. I want an answer Tuesday, but God may want to see what someone is going to do with their life on Wednesday before giving me clearer guidance on Thursday.

 

What I can ask for, and what I do get more often than I deserve, is a sense of peace with the outcome. I can ask in my intercessions for the gift of confidence that the answer will come. In some of the hardest decisions of my life, the time when I felt the Lord's hand most directly on me was when I received the blessing of knowing that there would be a clear answer, one that would be right for me . . . and that this had to be enough.

 

And it was.

 

It's something I not only try to remember to ask for, but I want to help remind others about: not just to ask for an answer, a sign, a choice to be made, but to ask of heaven that I find peace in knowing that an answer will come, in God's good time. When I've gotten that, it's an impact like fireworks going off; when the answer comes, it can be downright anti-climactic – oh, yeah, right, of course.

 

But the peace of knowing "answers will come" passes all understanding.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he knows what silence sounds like in prayer, too. Tell him about your prayer practices at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Notes from my Knapsack 8-30-18

Notes from my Knapsack 8-30-18

Jeff Gill

 

A lap around the track

___

 

Word origin is a subject not everyone is familiar with, but I think it has an impact even when we don't quite realize it.

 

Etymology is the technical term, and it's archaeology done by digging through the layers of development in a word, from the current usage back through the stages of transformation to root words in other languages.

 

Curriculum is a word we use or hear about fairly often, especially if you have children in school. It's a kind of modernized Latin that was picked up a few hundred years ago in Scotland, at universities there to describe their standard round of coursework for students. It comes more deeply from the Latin "currere" which means "to run," and it has echoes in circles and currents and the course of taking a lap around the track for chariots and horses and riders.

 

So the quiet undercurrent of curriculum is that when you take the classes in a school's set curriculum, you're on track to graduate. Take these classes, in the proper order, and cross the finish line at the end of the circuit, closing the circle, completing the course of study.

 

Which is where I worry about the more contemporary word extracurricular. As in "extra" which comes from Latin as well, an adverb or preposition meaning "on the outside, without, beyond." So extracurricular means outside of the course of study, a deviation from the track, beyond what's necessary.

 

To which you might ask "well, that's correct, isn't it?" And in a specific interpretation of curriculum or curricula (see how Latin has a way of sticking its head out?) I suppose that's exactly what extracurricular activities are, academically.

 

In terms of education, though, I'm not so sure. And I worry, as I know many do, about the fact that Granville Schools have crossed over into the fairly common world of "pay to participate." Words have meaning, in this as well, and administrators are very quick to correct anyone who says "pay to play" with the indication that if you are paying, there's a guarantee of playing. Our new extracurricular model in Our Fayre Village is now "pay to participate."

 

One problem with this is, of course, that some families will find the fees hard or even impossible to pay. Yes, here. If that's a surprise to you, let me say it clearly. Years of Cub Scout leadership rubbed my nose in the reality that we are not all well-off, financially comfortable folks here in Brigadoon. There are many working class families proud of having a place in this community, but struggling to keep up with simple maintenance costs and property taxes each year. We may not need a backpack drive in Granville, but a few hundred dollars can be a challenge for some households to come up with.

 

And frankly those are exactly the folks who need "extracurricular" activities for their kids as much if not more than others. The race to keep up on the course, the circuit, the "currere" of life means another adult input, an additional place for support and growth and engagement, is very important. There's enrichment you can purchase for some kids, but for many, they need all they can get and there's little money or parental time to spare. Extracurriculars are often an on ramp, a vital pit stop, a turbo boost for students just trying to keep up in the curriculum.

 

So if you would, buy those lemon shake-ups when you can. Get a hot dog at a football game, buy some candles or candy or whathaveyou. Because from where I stand, extracurriculars aren't outside of the educational experience today at all. They're at the heart of the infield.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's chaperoned, sponsored, and mentored all he can and welcomes you to join in the infield of the school circuit. Tell him what you think is extra or essential at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 8-25-18

Faith Works 8-25-18

Jeff Gill

 

On-call vs. on-task and other puzzles

___

 

It's a problem without a clear solution, because people are used to what they're used to.

 

Like most such puzzles, it had a standard joke associated with it, a one-liner: must be nice to work one hour a week!

 

What hours do ministers work? Even those who make the "one hour" crack know the complicating part of the program is the on-call nature of pastoral care. Which is why the move in the last century in this country was to make ministerial positions a salaried job.

 

Normally, a salaried person knows they may work 40 hours, they may work more, they may put in less some weeks, but the point of a salaried job is that you don't keep track of hours in the same way most of the rest of the economy works. And yes, you are likely to go over 40 as often as not.

 

But that's what most people who are in churches expect: salary, or hourly positions. And if you are being paid for ten hours, then you work ten hours. If you are hourly, and you work over 40, you get overtime. So the salaried viewpoint has been a rational perspective for ministry positions.

 

Except more and more ministry work is "part time." Yes, I put that in quotes. Not necessarily because most or all part time ministry positions work 40 hours or more a week, but because it's almost impossible to come to a good understanding of what those hours are, and how to construct or model a part time pastoral position, and be fair to the person working. If you call it "half time" then folks think about twenty hours as the benchmark of fair expectations, and . . .

 

So I'll use my own last Sunday as an example. Got up later than I usually do, since I'd been at the hospital the night before. Prayed for fifteen minutes instead of my preferred twenty or thirty, ran my sermon silently on the sofa for forty minutes, responded to emails and messages about our regional church needs for another thirty, left for the church building.

 

I arrived about 8 am; we had two morning worship services, conversations with parishioners and church leaders before, in between, and after, left the property about 1 pm. The student minister and I went to grab lunch, then arrived at a care facility which is one of our two monthly services at such locations about 1:45. Set up, gathered people, held services from 2 to 2:30. We went our two ways; I ran home to pick up supplies and talk about a church issue with my wife on scheduling and planning, then went to the store for perishable supplies, and arrived at our church's outdoor lodge at 4 pm, set up for a 4:30 event, and we were there for about three hours, then another thirty minutes cleaning up and closing down. Got home, spent from 8:30 to 9 pm replying to messages from through the day and for the week ahead about events and plans.

 

How many hours do you call that? Any Christian would pray, right? Many hands helped with all the part of it, from the three services to the evening event. Some would say "well, sounds like you were on the clock from 6 am to 9 pm to me!" Others would point out you don't count meal times or travel time in work hours. Lots of ways you could sort this out.

 

And my point being for many, most "part time" ministers, that's a description of the one core element of their position: Sunday. And if your post is defined around a twenty hour week, then whether or not that was fifteen of it, or just six or seven, is a key element of understanding . . . or of confusion.

 

Which is where I think we have to learn a third language in the church, beyond salaried and hourly: the entrepreneurial model. If you own or run a business, you work the hours you work, and decide for yourself if it's worth it, based on outcomes. And not all outcomes are tangible measurables.

 

An entrepreneurial model of church work breaks open some assumptions, but the hazard is when the congregation sees itself as the boss. And if the minister "works for the boss" in that way, conflict is likely. But as churches all over our area are having to rethink their assumptions around ministerial work, it's conflict we'll have to work through.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's been in a variety of ministry positions across forty years. Tell him how you see the work of ministry at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 8-18-18

Faith Works 8-18-18

Jeff Gill

 

Readings from a sacred library

___

 

While I use many translations of the Bible in my preaching, my own mental fallback is the Revised Standard Version (RSV), which is probably why I like using the newer English Standard Version (ESV) so much, built on that earlier translation family.

 

Our pew Bibles at church are New Revised Standard Version (NRSV), which likes to challenge readers on many levels by overturning assumptions and familiar readings for more contemporary interpretations, but has a skeptical approach to illumination. The New International Version is common in the pews in people's hands, though less than it once was; multiple special editions of it have almost hurt the brand, though it's a very workable translation.

 

There are still a few King James Versions out there among the membership, I know, and at Christmas I'm likely to return there at times myself. As I grew up, the Today's English Version (TEV), also known as the "Good News Bible," gave me motivation to dig deeper through more accessible language, and the line illustrations in the original editions are, to me, part of the translation; today, I think the New Living Translation 2nd edition is a commonly available reader-friendly version that does much the same . . . but it doesn't have those line illustrations.

 

There are many who talk about how the Bible speaks to them in the out-of-doors, and I recall some theologian talking about the Bible and the Book of Nature as parallel, complementary volumes. What God says in one is often explained more fully in the other, and the seeker after God's Word can fruitfully turn back and forth from one volume to the other for illumination, or so that interpretation would argue. Sunrises in the outdoors turns us to Mary Magdalene in the garden, our gardening takes us to Luke 13, the 23^rd Psalm is brought to mind as we drive past flocks in the field or hike mountain paths, and so on.

 

I have much the same sort of collection developing in my head, or perhaps I should say in my heart, since logic and reason have little to do with it. There is the Book of Parenting, which echoes and reinforces much of my Bible reading and understanding, a volume that gets longer every year, even if still shorter than the sixty-six books of the ESV. They do stand together.

 

And there is a Book of Preaching, and a Book of Worship, which like the pairs of Kings and Chronicles have a great deal of overlap, but are distinctly two narratives. How I've preached, how I've learned from what I've preached, and what people tell me they heard after I finished a sermon – all that informs my interpretation of scripture. Likewise services, especially the special services, Christmas and Easter and Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, outdoor worship and camp consecration and national park vespers: they all go into, and bring things out of my reading of the Word.

 

The Book of Weddings makes a small supplemental volume in my interpretive library, with an impact on my sense of the divine at work in the world, but also stemming from how often I have to work hard to keep the Bible engaged with the "event" – always a learning experience.

 

But the biggest addition to my interpretive library is the Book of Funerals. Each time I go to be with a family, large or small, and prepare to conduct services for someone old or young, I learn more about what the Bible means, what it says, and how it teaches. Sometimes intentionally, often as I drive away, sometimes days later.

 

And I know this. One thing I've learned from the Book of Funerals for my reading and teaching and preaching from the Holy Bible itself: never, at any time, say anything about God and the world at work together that cannot be credibly said at the graveside of a small child. If it makes no sense there, it makes no sense anywhere else. But if you can say it, through tears perhaps, but say it with hope and faith and strength and confidence at that moment, you can safely preach it anywhere, from a mountaintop to a statehouse chamber. You might even be able to say it in church.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's thankful for illumination from the Holy Spirit in reading what God puts before him every day. Tell him where you read for inspiration at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Notes from my Knapsack 8-16-18

Notes from my Knapsack 8-16-18

Jeff Gill

 

Digging for growth

___

 

This summer the foliage in my yard has been on the move.

 

I've relocated a rhododendron, an evergreen that I think is some kind of dwarf spruce, and a six foot tall holly tree. These have been the kind of the relocations that fit into the old saying "Ladies, if a man says he'll fix it, he will. No need to remind him every 6 months about it."

 

The holly, for instance, was probably four foot tall when we decided it needed to move, and to where. Et cetera. But this was a good summer for a few things, and one was getting the landscaping beaten into shape.

 

We also removed a vast quantity of yard and sidewalk overhanging foliage from our resident maples and oak and cherry: I'm nervous about doing too much surgery to our dogwood, but that's probably next. The mounds along the curb were impressive, and I do appreciate the village crews that come around at the end of the month to gather and chip them.

 

Honestly, I was afraid to move the various shrubby items; the last one I moved died, despite (or possibly because of) my solicitous attentions. But something I've learned in gardening these last few years is that plants are actually pretty tough. My worries of doing damage were allowing the damage of overgrowth and misplaced growing things to hurt the plants more than actually getting my hands down in the dirt and pulling, or sharpening up the spade and digging down deep.

 

A six foot holly looked small wedged in between a couple of false cypress bushes, but once out of the ground, it was massive and heavy, and of course spiky. Blood was shed. Cardboard sheets served where perhaps a wheelbarrow would have been handy – but how many times a decade on a quarter acre are you really going to use a wheelbarrow?

 

Once in place, the Lovely Wife observed that it was going to be a bit too tall for what she envisioned there; she was too kind to point out it was just right when we first decided to move it. I was allowed the "let me wait until it roots in good, and after the first frost" out on doing surgery right away.

 

I have to admit to some sneaking admiration for this holly, and like to see it in a more prominent place. It's a volunteer, as I think you call them; not from a garden center, it just popped up, no doubt thanks to a bird passing overhead years ago, in a spot where I just let it grow seeing it was a holly. Ten years later and now relocated, it's doing fine.

 

Other trees on our lot are not looking so well. I hate to say too much here for fear they might read this column and take it out on me later, but there's one or two that might just have to go. Some of the fast growing ornamentals already planted when we purchased Sycamore Lodge have already reached the end of their useful life, and one toppled over entirely on its own, saving me some decision making. Others are starting to fit uneasily into their spot in what amuses me to call our landscaping.

 

Of the lawn, we will not speak. I put down minimal chemicals, but some; I used crabgrass preventer in the spring, but I fear I misread the label, and it was crabgrass promoter. The stuff is now over half my lawn! But, it is green.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he owns a home with his spouse and tries to take care of it. Ineptly, but with good intentions. Tell him about your property-owning predilections at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.