Faith Works 9-21

Henry (and Jacob) --

Hold the one I sent you for next week, and put this in for Saturday. Hope you like it!

Pax,

Jeff Gill

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Faith Works 9-21-13

Jeff Gill

 

"I am the one who knocks"

___

 

"Breaking Bad" is down to the last two episodes in a five year run on AMC.

 

If you've not seen this TV show, all you really need to know for the moment is that it is a story that starts in a tragic-comic mode with a put-up father and husband who is a high school chemistry teacher who learns he has probably six months to live.

 

Their finances already stretched to the breaking point, and with this prognosis in hand, Walter our . . . protagonist? We can't call him a hero, not where he's gone now; Walter justifies to himself cooking up methamphetamine to sell and build up a secure pile of cash for his family when he's gone.

 

As you may know, people around us right here in Licking County "cook" meth, often blowing themselves up in the process, poisoning the barns and abandoned homes and cheap hotel rooms they use and producing fairly impure product because, well, they didn't pay attention in high school chemistry, if indeed they took it at all.

 

Walter, as I said, was a high school chemistry teacher, and he finds that he can make meth at a level of purity that attracts the attention of the drug dealers he needs to move his product and make his profit. That attention gets him money, and it also gets him in deeper.

 

By now, five seasons in and we estimate about two years in "show time" from the initial diagnosis, Walter is a monster. He has killed, oh has he killed, and he has had people – many people – killed. He prefers to keep some distance from killing, but it's getting closer to him, as last week, right in front of his face. If you haven't watched "Breaking Bad" at all before, this column is NOT a suggestion you start now. Truly.

 

The usual aside about the "theme" of this show is "the journey into evil." Walter justifies doing a wrong thing to do what he sees as a good thing – care for his family – and the one wrong thing leads to another and another and another and . . . you get the picture, whether you know the show or not. You can't be a little bit evil. That'll preach, but it's a different sermon.

 

I've come to realize, the last few weeks as we approach what can only be a wrenching and apocalyptic finale (last Sunday night's episode left Twitter aflame and most of the AMC audience with heart palpitations), that Vince Gilligan, the show's creator and producer, is after something a bit more than "Evil leads to evil."

 

There's a mediation going on here, I believe, about facing death. How we all do it in ways large and small, with a terminal diagnosis or just walking out into a sunny day hoping a meteorite won't strike us down in a flash.

 

Walter is unwilling to face death, and finality. He's turned out to be pathologically unable to confront his own ending, to the point that he's willing to deal out endings a plenty in order to forestall his own. The death that happened rather early in the show last week, the one that took place right in front of him, he tried to stop, and he clearly could not see that it was over until it was, and even then . . .

 

A debate among fans of the show has sprung up that maybe NOW Walter has realized what evil he's done, and is trying to make amends, and will somehow turn out to be good at heart after all. Ruefully, sadly, tragically, I doubt it entirely. Death is for lesser beings, but not for him. "Not yet" means "not at any point I'm willing to contemplate."

 

Just a few episodes ago, his wife (now there's a story about evil, and . . . well, another story) was starting to realize how far gone her family was down the rabbit hole of darkness, and she tries to express her fears to Walter, when he turns and erupts to contradict her anxieties by saying "I am the one who knocks!" Killers don't come knocking for him; he, Walter, is the threat that even Death should fear.

 

He is, of course, wrong. Death is the one who knocks. And how you prepare to answer that call may be the answer to how you deal with Life.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in central Ohio; tell him about your temptations and testing at knapsack77@gmail.com, or @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 9-21-13

Faith Works 9-21-13

Jeff Gill

 

Ordination, seminary, and other changing concepts

___

 

Christian ministry in this country has long been tied to the concepts of seminary and ordination.

 

Ordination is the practice with a much longer pedigree, going back to the earliest days of the Christian church, "setting apart" certain leaders. Paul talks about "preaching and teaching elders" and that having a role or an office in church life where someone receives compensation is sensible: "you should not bind the mouths of the kine who tread the grain" being an earthy catchphrase in the ancient world for "those doing the work should be able to make a living from it."

 

To hold such an office, certain traditions and even rituals were part of the "setting apart" for ministry, to be ordained to this service. In these acts, authority in Christ's name is passed along through acts like the laying on of hands, or the giving of particular items of garb, such as preaching stoles, echoing Jesus' towel in footwashing and also as a yoke worn in tandem with Christ to do his work.

 

By the Reformation era, ordination was one of the "seven sacraments" of most liturgical traditions like Catholicism; some branches of Reformation theology like Lutherans moved to a "no less than two sacraments" understanding (baptism and communion) with various stances on the other five, while the Anglican tradition which becomes Episcopalianism in the US calls the same two "necessary" with the other five significant or even labels them "sacramental rites."

 

Whichever way you go with the theological categorization, you still have an act of the church that calls for more involvement than just the parties involved. We don't consider two people off by themselves to be able to "get married" on their own, whether our faith tradition calls marriage a sacrament or not, and in almost every branch of the Christian family, no one person can just announce "I'm a minister" by themselves. Sacramental ordination or not, there needs to be the assent and active involvement of the church to say you are ordained.

 

Between the more liturgical and less so (or "low church") branches of Protestantism, ordination can be seen as requiring a unit of the larger church involved, whether a diocese or conference or synod, down to asserting that an individual congregation can ordain persons to Christian ministry. Even in most modern low church traditions, a local church ordination may be recognized as valid, but if you wish to exercise ministry beyond that congregation, some form of credential is going to be needed, liturgical or educational.

 

This is where seminary comes into the picture. From high church to low, everyone from sacramental to casual, Catholic to hyper-Protestant, has for the last few generations expected people called to ministry to pass through a post-bachelor degree program of seminary education. This echoes, but lagged behind a similar shift in professions like medicine and the law, where once apprenticeship was the norm and even a college degree was unusual, or at least a marker of special training.

 

Abraham Lincoln was not terribly unusual in his day and age for having never attended a single university class, but started with independent reading, found mentors and guides, apprenticed "to the bench" and then founded a small partnership from which he earned his legal credentials by being a good lawyer, from small cases to large. Even into the 20^th century, many small town doctors were of the same sort of "training."

 

As expectations of the professions rose, so did the requirements to receive formal acknowledgement of one's place in a profession. Lawyers and doctors and soon most clergy had to have a college degree, and then learn their particular craft in a dedicated, accredited institution: law schools, medical schools, seminaries or Bible colleges.

 

Formal, public requirements have supported and even increased these expectations for the legal and medical fields, but ministry has no such formal role, except in certifying marriage licenses. Ironically, an increasing number of those doing weddings & "solemnizing marriages" in the legal sense are people who have declared themselves to be clergy, sending away a check in return for "ordination credentials." That and another $25 to the Ohio Secretary of State makes you fit to sign a license.

 

So we see a steady move away from formal credentialing for ministers, and an increased interest in even fairly liturgical traditions around a more congregation-based form of ministry training towards ordination, while seminaries are closing, or at the very least being marginalized.

 

We'll talk next week about changing trends in seminary education and ministry formation.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in central Ohio; tell him about your training in ministry at knapsack77@gmail.com, or @Knapsack on Twitter.

 

Mission and motivation - Newark Central 9-18-13

Notes from my Knapsack – Newark Central 9-18-13

 

Mission and motivation

 

By the time most of you get this (by mail, anyhow), our mission team will be at work in Joplin, working to rebuild housing destroyed two years ago by a massive tornado sweeping across that western Missouri city.

 

Many of you already know the story, about how members of Newark Central, their hearts broken by the devastation across the Gulf Coast from Hurricane Katrina, went down to Louisiana, and ended up in Mississippi, and found fellowship and relationship with brothers and sisters from the Moss Point Christian Church just outside of Mobile, Alabama.

 

As a congregation, our work in these mission trips has gone to those three states, to Kansas, and now to Missouri. In years past, back to the summer of '93, we've seen our youth go in mission to Texas, to West Virginia, even to somewhere as distant and alien as Michigan.

 

Our sense of Christian mission as a congregation is not limited to these mission trips: we've found the opportunity to live out our faith right here in Newark with refugee resettlement and support of transitional housing through the Licking County Coalition for Housing, and in Ohio we've put our hands as well as our resources to work in building up Camp Christian as a ministry center for the Christian Church in Ohio . . . and our youth, with their Super Bowl subs, have added to the CYF "SCOOP" funds that help maintain a missional presence in the Hocking Valley Parish and with the Cleveland Christian Children's Home.

 

Once in a while someone will ask "aren't there needs here in Licking County?" of course there are, and we respond powerfully and faithfully to those needs as a ministry opportunity: our Medical Loan Closet is a widely admired outreach in Licking County, our Men's Ministry is largely a "Guys Who Build Ramps" series of events through the year, and we are involved in feeding the hungry in more ways than fit into one paragraph. We know something about local needs, and the mission God calls us to in this area.

 

But we also know our Bible. Paul in II Corinthians 8 and Romans 15 makes it clear that the church of Jesus Christ has a calling to share from those who are blessed to those who are in need, and that such sharing is a witness to the unity of the Body. That alone would be reason enough!

 

And in Acts 11:27-30 we see how the early church lived out a commitment to relief; this comes literally on the heels of 11:26 where we first get our name as "Christians", and seems to be part of our very identity as a believing community.

 

When we share our time, our treasures, and our talents with those who are not similarly blessed, and we do so without any expectation of benefit or blessing from doing so, we give glory to God, and we are living out one of the most powerful witnesses there are to the Good News of God's love made known in Christ Jesus.

 

Please keep our mission team on the road this week in your prayers, and part of the blessing will return to you, wherever it is that you labor!

 

In joy and hope, Pastor Jeff

Faith Works 9-14-13

Faith Works 9-14-13

Jeff Gill

 

Praying through the Bible

___

 

If you are a practicing Christian, and are wanting to work on your prayer life, it almost seems too obvious to tell you to look in the Bible.

 

That turns out, though, to be a relatively underused approach. People buy all kinds of books and go to workshops to learn how to go deeper in prayer, missing some tools that are already (I would hope!) right at your elbow.

 

I've said before that a good first step for someone wanting to learn about prayer is simply to go to church, and pay attention: the service has a number of prayers in it from which you can learn, some improptu and spontaneous, others from a liturgical resource or prayer book (such as the Roman missal for Catholics, or the Book of Common Prayer for Episcopalians, a tool in the latter case used by many Protestant clergy beyond the Anglican tradition).

 

But the best known worship prayer is right out of scripture, The Lord's Prayer, Jesus' answer when the disciples say to him "Lord, teach us to pray." And Jesus says "pray like this" as he launches into the familiar words, but note he doesn't say "pray only these words" but presents this prayer as a model, first and foremost. So if we model our prayers on the flow and images of that prayer, we can't go far wrong.

 

And that's not the only prayer in those sacred pages: Moses prays fervently in Exodus 32; David asks for God's pardon in Psalm 51; Hezekiah offers up a beautiful, extensive prayer that opens up his heart to God, and to us when we read II Kings 19 & 20; Nehemiah prays for his people, and for his efforts on their behalf in the outset of the book named after him; and in Luke 22:39-46 Jesus prays for acceptance of what is to come in the Garden of Gethsemane.

 

For a seventh example (seems like a good number), you may recall that Bruce Wilkerson got a best-selling book out of I Chronicles 4:9-10, the prayer of Jabez to "enlarge my territories." A short, simple prayer, but with some extensive application to our own prayerful reflections.

 

On top of those prayers in the Bible would be the entire book of Psalms. These poetic hymns, whether said or sung, are more often than not more of a prayer directly to God than they are statements about God or Israel. Psalm 139 is a prayer for discernment, and there are so many that are ideal for someone trying to pray when it seems all hope is distant: 22, 42, 88, 130.

 

Then there's the justly famous 23^rd Psalm, the one longer piece of scripture that many people know by heart, whether they think they do or not. It is a statement more than a prayer-form, and yet in saying it, you realize that sometimes that's exactly what our prayers need to be: a restatement so we can hear it ourselves of what we believe, why we believe it, and what that faith means.

 

"And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." Amen!

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in central Ohio; tell him about your examples in prayer at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Notes from my Knapsack – Granville Sentinel 9-12-13

Notes from my Knapsack – Granville Sentinel 9-12-13

Jeff Gill

 

A story on the way home (pt. 4)

 

(The fourth installment of an ongoing story)

Looking along the wide expanse below, Nelson liked the view from the restaurant's balcony. Scraps of lawn and green canopy edging into the streetscape below framed the main intersection to his right, and on the left the broad avenue narrowed out of sight into trees and roofs to the east.

 

"Can I get you anything to drink?" The server looked sharp and professional, cheerful and attentive, and he almost hated to shorten the conversation by asking directly for a glass of red house wine and a plate of guacamole and chips.

 

When the young man came back, glass in hand, they talked about the town, and the search that had brought Nelson to this village he'd never seen before. His late sister had a connection here, but he just couldn't figure out what it was.

 

"Did she have any other community activities she got into here? A church or group or event that we could connect you with?" Appreciating the "we" that made him feel already included, Nelson shook his head slowly.

 

"No, that's part of what puzzles me. She was a nurse, but she didn't work in any Ohio hospitals, I've confirmed that. She and I never lived here as kids, and our mom never came here even after we both left for college. It's just that she listed Granville as her hometown on employment paperwork in Las Vegas, before she died, and a few receipts that tell me she'd been here on and off over the last few years. CVS, Ross Market, the Certified station."

 

"Where did she stay when she was here? That's where I'd start."

 

"You'd think that would work, but I've had no luck even with some co-operation from the folks at the Cherry Valley Lodge, the Buxton Inn, and the Granville Inn. She seems to have been here long enough to need lodgings, but so far . . ."

 

The waiter looked thoughtful. "I guess she might have gone over to Newark or Heath and found a cheaper room. I can give you some likely candidates to check out; it's not that long a list." If she stayed by the Columbus airport, though, you may be out of luck in that department. Give me moment to check my other tables…"

 

As the waiter dashed back inside the upstairs dining area, Nelson looked again across at the gold-topped, double-pillared church directly across the way. Where did she go to pass her time? What activities would have given her reason to keep coming back other than atmosphere and charm?

 

As if anticipating his thoughts, the white-aproned server darted back into the sunshine filled balcony from the gloom inside, and leaned over Nelson, pointing down through the railing. "If you want, I can hold your nachos a bit…" As he looked up, puzzled, the explanation continued: "If you follow that fellow crossing the street right below, us, between the church and the bank, he's the editor of the weekly paper here, and he might be able to run a search on your sister's name. Their office is just the other side of that block."

 

Nodding as the jacketed figure below disappeared between the designated buildings across the way, Nelson jumped to his feet and made his way down the stairs inside and back around to the door back onto Broadway. It was a bit of a gamble, but he'd come here from Las Vegas, hadn't he?

 

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him what you think happens next at knapsack77@gmail.com, or @Knapsack on Twitter.

 

 

Faith Works 9-7-13

Faith Works 9-7-13

Jeff Gill

 

Teach Us To Pray

___

 

"Lord, teach us pray" asked the disciples in Luke 11.

 

The model outline of prayer that Jesus teaches is also found in Matthew's gospel, in the sixth chapter, but it's in Luke's account that we hear the request as a question: "Lord, teach us to pray."

 

It is something that most of us have to learn, and practice to make more comfortably a regular part of our personal routine. There's a level of prayer that comes naturally ("Oh Lord, don't let me mess up"), but if we never grow and mature spiritually past that sort of reflexive prayer, we'll lose out on a real blessing and gift that can help us live calmly, boldly, joyfully, even in the middle of chaos and brokenness.

 

Anne Lamott argues that there are three essential prayers: Help, Thanks, and Wow! I like that summary, and think she has a good descriptive point. What I'd push past is the idea that those three categories are the sustaining *practice* of prayer, as Paul was pointing us towards with the idea of "pray without ceasing" (I Thessalonians 5:17).

 

If someone comes to me whether as a fellow Christian, or specifically as a pastor, and says "help me out with this, padre; prayer – how do you do it, or at least do it right?" . . . well, there's a few steps I usually start with.

 

First, go to church. Oddly enough, this gets left out in many discussions of prayer, especially personal prayer. I think this is because often teachers of spirituality warn against letting praying in church be the only time we pray, and that's absolutely correct. Preachers especially need to be warned against this lazy habit!

 

But in general, if you are trying to deepen your prayer life, I think you benefit from starting in public worship, and listening, listening closely, to the prayers lifted up there. In most sanctuaries on a Sunday there's an invocation of some sort, prayers of the people at some point (often called a pastoral prayer), prayers in and around the offering and communion, and not infrequently a closing prayer either of the sermon or of the service itself. That's four to six examples for you to consider and elaborate on for yourself, to start each week. If you hear a prayer that doesn't work for you at all, fine: why? What was it about that prayer that sounded off? Did the person praying stop addressing God and start making a speech to the audience? Were they getting caught up in a point that didn't quite make it into clarity? (We've all been there.) Or did it push some buttons for you, and if so, what were they?

 

You also can find strong models of prayerful address in the hymns. Many hymns are, quite intentionally, prayers in full. Think about what "Amazing Grace" says: it's a prayer of sorts. "How Great Thou Art" is unambiguously addressed directly to God, and is undoubtedly a prayer. That's a start!

 

As you go into the week, if you actually "get into" those prayers from Sunday service, spoken and sung, you've given yourself some outlines, some images, a framework on which to start to offer up your own prayers. Lamott's three are a good sorting tool, but most of us would like to ask for "Help" with a little more detail, but in a spirit appropriate to the endeavor.

 

Which is where our "help" prayers, I would always suggest, are best served by making sure that we keep them in balance with what are called "intercessory prayers," or "help" prayers we are lifting up for others. If our calls for "help" are only for ourselves, we're quickly going to find ourselves going in circles, and feeling like we're not going anywhere. The spiritual work of bending our heart's focus away from our own concerns to those of others always has a way of putting our needs, our fears, into context, where they usually recede in proportion as we are reflecting on the needs and trials of those around us.

 

And we get a broader sense of what it means to ask for God's intervention, and a healthier sense of when we're getting a response, even when it isn't what we started out asking for.

 

So two first steps, the prayers in weekly worship, and praying for others. If you're still curious, I'll take us a little further into this journey into prayer next week.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in central Ohio; tell him how prayer has blessed you at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 8-31-13

Faith Works 8-31-13

Jeff Gill

 

So, what do you do, exactly?

___

 

 

Not long ago I was listed, in the little phrase at the end of my columns, as a "supply preacher", which is like being a substitute teacher for pastors, and which is different from being an interim minister, where you fill both the pulpit and the role all week, but for a limited period of time (usually six months to as long as two years).

 

During that time, which ran seven years while my wife and I were getting our son raised and I was doing a variety of part-time and contract jobs along with filling various pulpits on weekends, if I was at an event and people got to talking, it wasn't unusual for someone to turn to me at some point and ask "So, what is it you do?"

 

I still have my hand in a variety of activities and causes around Licking County, but since last August I've been able to go back to the more simple and straightforward "I'm a pastor, at Newark Central Christian." Or at least it sounds simple.

 

What does a pastor do? You can answer that question with a recitation of activities: I preach Sundays two or three times, teach (and preach a bit) at Wednesday Bible studies, visit the sick, marry and bury, write articles for the church newsletter (or nowadays, webpage), and serve in leadership roles in the community and my denomination.

 

That's certainly part of it, the activity and the busyness, and what the world probably best understands. But it isn't really what I think of when you ask, about my role as a parish pastor, what I DO.

 

So what do I do? What is it I think a pastor is for? When I was hired officially a year ago, I got a job description, and a contract, and I read them at the time, and don't disagree with them in any meaningful way. But I'll admit I haven't gone back to re-read them; they're more like the activity list approach to what a pastor or minister does. Myself, I'd frame the position description differently.

 

In essence I think my work is to do two things in and with and through our congregation, why I am here and what I'm called to do. I teach people to read, and I teach people to pray. That's my job, as I understand it. Two things.

 

A pastor teaches people to read Scripture and Tradition. We are not "reading teachers", per se, but we have a responsibility to help our worshipers learn how to engage the Bible for themselves. That's through sermons, through teaching studies, that's in direct interactions that range from how I talk about the Bible in personal conversations to simply the act of giving Bibles; it is an all week, all through everything process, and not just something that happens in sermons and studies – because my real goal is to encourage people not to walk out Sunday noon thinking "well, Jeff explained the Bible so well I don't need to read it more myself" but for them to go home on fire to dig deep and learn and understand even more of Scripture than we engaged in worship. And so on!

 

My job is also to teach people how to read Tradition, which is where it's even clearer that we're not talking about just teaching the mechanics of reading, but "how to READ." The calendar of the church year, the meanings and purposes of how we practice baptism and communion, the ways we order our congregational life: all of this is, in a sense, a vast text that I want people to "read," to investigate how and why it matters that we do things a certain way, from the meaning of a stole in formal pulpit garb, to the history of why Americans won't sit in the front pews. It's interesting, it's important, and it's faith promoting to read the deeper meaning in more than just the printed page.

 

So I teach people to read, and I teach people to . . . pray. That's a longer subject for another column, but my prayer is that my interactions whether on the street, in the sanctuary, at a nursing home, or on a hospital floor, all end up being part of teaching people the how and the why of making prayer a part of your life that's always present; what Paul called "pray without ceasing."

 

In this sort of reading, and praying, it's not about doing, but being.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in central Ohio; tell him what you think a pastor does (or is!) at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 8-24

Faith Works 8-24-13

Jeff Gill

 

Racism from a different perspective

___

 

Four days ahead of the 50th anniversary of the "March on Washington", we've got much on which to remember & reflect. It was jarring to hear Rep. John Lewis introduced on an NPR piece yesterday as "the only living speaker from the platform that day," but then I realized that, of course, that's inevitably true. King himself was cut down just a few years later, but time has been catching up with all but the youngest from Aug. 28, 1963 before the Lincoln Memorial.

 

These last three years in my personal and professional life have given me a new appreciation, somewhat de-coupled from the usual politics and infighting, about racism and anti-racism efforts. Being involved with the Ancient Ohio Trail project, and the Tribal Outreach Project of the Newark Earthworks Center led by Marti Chaatsmith, has given me repeated opportunities to look closely, and uncomfortably often, at racism as it exists towards American Indians. The events and interactions and public reactions have brought out the myriad, complex, and deeply interwoven ways that racism contorts our understanding of each other, of cultures, and of the past . . . let alone the search for justice in the present.

 

It can be as seemingly simple as what to call Native people: should you use American Indian, or Native American? The correct answer is "it depends," but more importantly, the best answer is to ask "how would you like me to refer to you?" And almost without exception, the answer is "Thank you for asking, and I'd really appreciate it if you referred to me as Eastern Shawnee" or "Please refer to my background as Muscogee Creek" or "I appreciate the question, and you can simply say I am Comanche."

 

The point being there are over 500 nations, sometimes called tribes, in the United States, and they have from largest to smallest a great deal of pride in their heritage, and an understanding about how that heritage has been damaged over the years. If you think "Indian" is enough, then you also think it makes sense to call Padraig O'Malley "of white descent" or to confuse Cubans and Puerto Ricans and Venezuelans (which many of us do, thinking somehow refried beans defines them all, which is a whole 'nother conversation). Using a tribal affiliation, and using it correctly, is important: when the Wyandotte Nation's chief is visiting, you make sure that you've spelled it correctly, because there are four other related groups with similar but different names.

 

And on the most basic level, when you don't get it right, and when we act – dominant culture folk as most readers here are – as if it really doesn't matter, then we're saying in a way that's heard clearly exactly this way, that THEY don't matter. Or even more brutally, "Shut up and take what we give you." If that seems a harsh reaction to misspelling or misusing a name, keep in mind that their ancestors heard, on this land, less than 200 years ago: "Shut up and take what we give you."

 

To say of any one comment, statement, or act "That's racism" is often difficult, even when all involved are willing to admit that racism is active and involved in what's going on -- yet if you can never say that "this" is racist, then you are left with platitudes, and generalities, and ultimately inaction. There are assumptions and expectations and casual slurs and off-handed denigrations that have to be called out and identified, even as we debate what exactly is "over the line." But as a majority culture representative, I see so clearly how it simply can't be my call, and I've seen again and again how, from the perspective of minority cultures, what's invisible or subtle to me is a clear slap in the face to them . . . and my not seeing it (at first, or at all) is a slap from the other side.

 

It has been an unexpected challenge to navigate these issues, and an unanticipated value to me as a pastor of being involved in this work, even if my actual involvement has more to do with history and archaeology and resource interpretation. This effort to understand and explain our ancient assets in Licking County has unearthed some unresolved conflicts, and some still-recent injuries. We still don't know where it all is going, but I hope (and pray!) it ends, as Dr. King said, with its long arc bending towards justice.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in central Ohio; he's been proud to help tell the stories of our local history to diverse audiences since moving here in 1989. Tell him your story of conflict and resolution at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Notes from my Knapsack – Granville Sentinel 8-29-13

Notes from my Knapsack – Granville Sentinel 8-29-13

Jeff Gill

 

A story on the way home (pt. 3)

 

If Nelson had learned anything as a consulting engineer, it was to not make assumptions until all the information was assembled.

 

This town, this village, this Granville that he was driving into might be the place his now-deceased sister had put on her paperwork as hometown, but since as far as he knew she'd never lived here, there was a connection he wanted to find.

 

The connection could just be an aesthetic one: it's obviously a pretty place. The high tower on the ridge above, seen from the highway, then the encounter with the four corners of churches and strip of old-fashioned downtown, with no empty storefronts that he could see, and even commercial activity on the second floor, all made for a Norman Rockwell sort of scene that could call out to someone who had long searched for a place they could call home.

 

That would fit his sister, since he and she had been making their way in the world on their own for decades, after their mother's death and what with their father's long absence. Sheryl and he hadn't even met face to face in over a decade before her sudden death last week in Las Vegas, the last place her cross-country questing had taken her.

 

But even allowing for the question of why and how she might have passed through here, given that mother was buried in Georgia, Nelson had raised a family in Florida, and Sheryl's last three hospitals where she'd worked as a nurse had been Dallas, Phoenix, and Las Vegas . . . even allowing for that, would charming appearance alone account for that mysterious "Hometown" blank on her personnel file? Do you call a place home just because it looks like the home you never had?

 

Some might have, Nelson thought, but Sheryl was just hard-headed enough to make that unlikely. There was something else, something personal . . .

 

Turning into a parking place in the shadow of a ridiculously charming white Greek Revival church with a golden weathervane on top, Nelson got out of his rental car muttering "Rockwell." He walked directly into a bank, a little more modern inside than a Saturday Evening Post cover but very efficient in appearance and activity.

 

Stepping to a teller, he said "Excuse me, I'm just passing through, and wondered where a visitor should go if looking for a burger and a beer." The woman across the counter smiled, pointed back out the front window, and said "Brews is the place right across the street for what you want."

 

Nodding, Nelson went back out and across the street, half-waving at a driver who stopped as he entered the crosswalk who had waved at him. It must be that kind of place, he thought, and then stepped back as the car in the outside lane sped up and zipped barely in front of him.

 

Okay, not everyone. Making a mental note of the coffee shop before him, he turned to his left and headed for a place with a balcony already showing signs of being where a burger and a beer guy could sit and collect his thoughts.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him what you think happens next at knapsack77@gmail.com, or @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 8-17

Faith Works 8-17-13

Jeff Gill

 

Stigma, by any other name

___

 

In talking about the church and mental health regarding "stigma," a major issue is  how people of faith misunderstand counseling and psychology.

 

"Stigma" is generally thought of as negative assumptions about people. But I believe that there are preconceptions people have, and false impressions about the practice of mental health care itself that are keeping folks back from getting involved in potentially helpful steps, which is just as bad as the stereotype of thinking ill of people who admit to mental illness.

 

There's the couch. The whole Freudian picture of someone lying down on an oddly shaped piece of furniture you don't see outside of a great-grandmother's parlor, talking to the ceiling about their childhood while a bearded psychotherapist strokes their chin and takes note without looking at the patient.

 

There may be two of those kinds of counselors left, and they both live on Manhattan. Nowadays you sit in perfectly normal chairs and talk to friendly people who have reasonable, if occasionally tough questions to ask. So forget that whole "couch" image to start with.

 

Some people of faith have heard that most counselors and therapists are intent on mocking and refuting religion in general, and Christianity in particular. It's simply not true. Not true at all. You might find a vigorous and mildly unethical atheistic counseling professional who works hard to convince the faithful to abandon their beliefs, but it would take looking, and I've not encountered one here in Ohio.

 

You can find specifically Christian counselors, but even in general, mental health professionals are in favor of pro-social activities of any sort, and aren't interested in talking you into or out of any one particular faith.

 

In fact, while I can't say I've met and talked to every person involved in counseling and recovery in Licking County, I've met quite a few of them, and can personally state that many of them attend a church, pray, and deeply respect the role of faith in a person's life from their own personal experience.

 

I think there's a reverse stigma in these sorts of points that make people unwilling to make a call, to reach out for help, or even to learn HOW to reach out for help – because they think psychology is some odd, idiosyncratic activity that doesn't make sense to those who might potentially benefit from it; because they think counseling has some intrinsic hostility to faith; and due to an expectation that their mental health professional will themselves be hostile to faith in the lives of their patients.

 

So let's say you've gotten past these false impressions, and you have a friend, a family member with a deep depression, a pattern of behavior that makes you fearful for their future, or they're just plain stating an intention to kill themselves. What should you do?

 

First, if there is any immediate threat, you should simply call 911. That is simple and necessary. If the means to hurt one's self or others is up and out and in their hands, you should call 911. Ask if they can send a CIT trained officer, but call 911. (CIT trained because most jurisdictions have "crisis intervention trained" officers available, but it doesn't hurt to specify.)

 

The trickier part is if you have someone you've realized is talking about death, about hurting themselves in general terms, whose intentions you're worried about, but not clear what they'll do. Keep in mind that you can always, at any time, for ANY reason, call 211, which will connect you with Pathways of Central Ohio, serving Licking & Knox Counties.

 

211 or 345-HELP will put you in touch with trained phone crisis counselors who have a complete set of resource listings for central Ohio; they know how to help you figure out what to do next, and who to call.

 

Someone can say they are feeling so low they wish they were dead, and you will (and should) worry, and want to help. 211 is happy to help. If someone says, no matter how jokingly, "I want to kill myself," and they have done anything at all to make their intention happen – gathered a stash of pills, bought a hank of rope, talk about where they've put their gun – you MUST treat that as something more than "just a threat." And again, if there is even the smallest sense that there's an immediate threat, call 911.

 

You have the option during weekdays to call Crisis Services at our local Behavioral Healthcare Partners (bhcpartners.org), 522-8477 from 8 am to 5 pm and share your concerns about a family member or friend, or yourself. They can guide you in what to do, and outside of their hours: call 211 for much the same service.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him how you push back against stigma at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Notes from my Knapsack 8-15-13

Notes from my Knapsack – Granville Sentinel 8-15-13

Jeff Gill

 

A story on the way home (pt. 2)

 

Nelson had rented a car at the Columbus airport, and was driving east as his navigation device instructed.

 

The ramps and merges and exits were a labyrinth writ large, and mildly nerve-racking, although he thought there were few places more anxiety producing to get in and out of than the Miami terminal, which he was fairly used to.

 

His ex-wife and kids had moved to Miami years ago, and they loved it; he stayed in Charlotte, far enough to fly more than he drove when visiting, going often enough but not as much as he'd have liked. They had their lives, growing off in their own directions after college, the boy to FSU and his daughter to Wake Forest. Neither seemed interested or likely to give him grandchildren.

 

Or to make his sister an aunt, he thought, musing as the road straightened out, pointing due east and rolling up and down the mild hills of Ohio. There were moments of what, for Nelson, felt like grand vistas, though he suspected that locals were less impressed than he was.

 

His engineer's eye saw the drainage ahead, having crested a higher ridge which must have marked the watershed encompassing the urban area he was leaving behind. The valleys and distant ridges gathered watercourses to his left and right, the outflow somewhere on ahead.

 

It was clearly a rural area, and farms became more and more evident as he drew nearer to his destination; it made him wonder if this Granville was a farming community as much as a college town. With Denison in the heart of it, you would expect a different sort of country village, and it fit with the sign he saw flash by on his left, and high up atop a grain elevator, a single panel next to a flagpole at the summit, simply saying "Think" – not even an exclamation point, just the word, big and black.

 

If this Granville was a place where farmers and students would pause to think, it would be different than the kind of place he'd have thought his sister would be attracted to. She was more of a "Just do it!" person, with an exclamation point for sure, no question about it.

 

Sheryl's impulsive nature might have had something to do with her having listed Granville, OH as her hometown on the employment forms at the hospital where she'd only recently started working, but no one in Las Vegas knew her well enough to know what the connection was.

 

Nelson's work in hydraulic engineering, even after two kids through college, had left him comfortable enough, and the money his sister's insurance left to him felt like a sort of obligation. An obligation to find out what she cared about, to get to know his sister a bit better now that he no longer could, and put this bequest to work in her memory where he had so few.

 

What was the tie she had to this town, where as far as he knew from their wandering childhood they'd never lived, where there was no indication in her work history that she'd ever been as an adult? Yet he'd seen her strong, bold handwriting in the line marked "Hometown" put down Granville.

 

He curved off the exit the disembodied voice from his dashboard directed, and at the top of the ramp, turned left. Maybe this town could tell him something about his sister's history, and help him understand better his own.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him what you think happens next at knapsack77@gmail.com, or @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 8-10-13

Faith Works 8-10-13

Jeff Gill

 

Rick Warren and Me

___

 

Some years ago in this space I made a few comments about Rick Warren, and not long after got a cheery e-mail from him thanking me for the mention.

 

Of course, it could well have come from a staffer using an official account, but there were a few points to the missive that left me fairly certain it was from him, and no doubt the powers of internet search engines could put on someone's desk each Monday any time you'd been talked about online anywhere in the world, let alone in the US.

 

Pastor Rick has a ministry far beyond Saddleback in southern California, a congregation he founded and has grown to incredible size and scope itself. Outside of that location, his books and his public appearances on TV, at conferences, and through a web presence, has given him a chance to do pastoral care literally around the world.

 

And I've heard from more than one colleague that they've gotten a quick e-mail note from the man.

 

So he has a pastor's heart, no doubt, and as a Christian leader even if you don't agree with him in all things, you're in awe of what he's accomplished.

 

With all of that, I wish it were more of a pleasure to find my path, as it were, crossing his, but the circumstances don't allow it. He and I have come to the same place in our Christian walk, and our ministerial calling, and I can only wish that the meeting were under different circumstances.

 

Rick Warren has taken on a ministry, woven through all the others, to extend a word to the church about mental health, and to reduce the social stigmas around mental illness, encouraging people to pursue treatment and care in traditional psychology and mental health care with the full and complete support of their faith community. Anyone who's seen what happens when he and his wife Kay take on a project will have no doubt that this goal will be pursued with passion, energy, and we all pray together, positive results.

 

They came to this decision, tragically, after the suicide of their son, who struggled with mental health issues all through his teen and young adult years. I'm sure there are many strands to this particular story, but the end has been chopped off short, so his parents are seeking to splice and knot a new storyline into where all the sympathy and support they're getting now can connect.

 

My path, blessedly, has developed over many years, without any one dramatic moment to push me to this point. In working with housing and homelessness, in trying to help relieve and prevent poverty, and from involvement with our justice system over many years here in Licking County, I've come to see that mental health is the missing piece of so many puzzles. We have some great resources in central Ohio, but there is even greater need. Step by step, I've realized that the call to help people seek their own transformation, and indeed even to hear the Gospel call clearly, folks need to be able to get help to still the voices that drown out hope . . . sometimes, they really are hearing voices (or think they are), but often it's the voice of their assumptions and doubts and fears.

 

What we in the churches dare not do is be complacent about mental health, and relapse into assumptions about "if you want to change, you just need to pray." On the other hand, too many mental health professionals think that all religious people, especially evangelical Christians, believe that prayer excludes psychiatry or prescriptions. This is not at all true, but widely believed. People of faith need to be present and speaking for themselves in the mental health care debates.

 

One way we can do this is to share information, and affirm the value of professional care as part of what recovery looks like, within the church as well as all around it. I'd like to praise the work being done in Newark at Wilson Middle School to reduce stigma and share information, and I can't improve on what John Davis, the principal, and Dava Kaltenecker, their linkage coordinator, has put together on a single webpage.

 

Find the newarkcityschools.org webpage, click to Wilson Middle School, then go to the bottom of the left-hand sidebar for "Community Agencies." Click that, then "Behavioral Health." You will find a marvelous summary of what's available in Licking County. I think Rick Warren would say that's a first step. We'll talk about a few more soon.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he also now serves on the Mental Health & Recovery board for Licking & Knox Counties. Share your story of recovery with him at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 7-3-13

Faith Works 7-3-13

Jeff Gill

 

Held gently in trust

___

 

St. Luke's Episcopal Church in Granville is coming home tomorrow.

 

For the last year, they've been assembling their two or more in Jesus' name up at Swasey Chapel, and thanks to the co-operation of Denison University, they've not lost sheep but even gained a few.

 

They worshiped up on campus because down in the village, their historic structure was bent, nearly broken, by the sheer force of last year's June 29 derecho winds.

 

With trusses cracked, the building could not be used. A historic Greek Revival structure, built in 1837, St. Luke's is the oldest church building still in use in Licking County. There are older congregations, and in Newark, Trinity Episcopal's original 1834 building still stands, but shrouded in an office complex; a close second is Old Stone Church of Christ, built originally in 1838 but abandoned from the Civil War until 1913.

 

So the unique status of St. Luke's as a community and county institution is the original craftsmanship and design still on display, and that the building has fairly continuously been in use. There is an element of our common history that is embodied by this place, whether we're Episcopalian or not.

 

To restore the building without markedly changing the character of what makes it special has cost, over the last few years, an investment that ran up into seven figures. The congregation has leaned into the effort, giving sacrificially, even as a certain modest amount of aid has come in from non-members.

 

From the outside, you could ask if it would make sense to just start over, to pop up a pole barn and finish off the insides decently, and have a new building with minimal upkeep in the near-term, plus all those resources that didn't go into preserving a landmark now there to spend on mission and outreach.

 

You could ask that, although a reasonable response is to ask "would those gifts be there if you didn't have the focus of a historic building to raise them?" It's hard to know. And even more to the point, a casual observer would quickly notice that, if anything, St. Luke's mission and ministry to the wider community has, during this pilgrim period, if anything increased. They are active in running the Market Street Pantry in Newark for food assistance, even as the Great Granville Garage Sale and Turkey Trot 5K went on as usual, blessing the Licking County Coalition for Housing and Food Pantry Network of Licking County.

 

In fact, the congregation is acutely aware of the fact that they hold their church building in trust for more than just themselves.  That place, the history in and around it, and even the look and feel of the worship space, is something that is more than any one worship service can communicate: although I am sure that tomorrow, at 8 am and 10 am, Rev. Stephen Applegate will try!

 

T.S. Eliot was speaking of Little Gidding in England when he wrote these lines in 1942, during a time of trial for that country, when people of all faiths needed a connection, a tangible link to something that would endure. He said of the experience of visiting a historic church:

 

"You are not here to verify,/  Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity/ Or carry report.  You are here to kneel/ Where prayer has been valid.  And prayer is more/  Than an order of words, the conscious occupation/  Of the praying mind, or the sound of the voice praying."

 

For the congregation of St. Luke's, they will gather to kneel where prayer has been found valid for over 175 years, and where our prayers this day will gather around them.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's delighted for his brothers and sisters at St. Luke's. Tell him about another historic church building at knapsack77@gmail.com, or @Knapsack on Twitter.