Searching for a Minister

They announced the name of our new minister at Church, this afternoon. It was the culmination of a two-years search which involved many parish meetings to discern the kind of minister we are looking for, and countless hours of work by the search committee. They combed through resumes, held initial interviews, and met with finalists before reaching a decision. They read candidates’ writings, heard their sermons, and talked to people who knew them well. In the end, they found someone, which is a miracle in and of itself.

My experience is that there are as many opinions about what makes a good minister as there are parishioners. Some people carry wounds from their childhood that shape the kind of minister they’d like, and some want to find someone like the minister they had growing up. Some want someone with an engaging personality, while others want a contemplative soul. Many expect a minister with strong pastoral care skills and a sweet bedside manner while also wanting an administrator capable of making tough decisions. Given that most parishes want someone who can walk on water while delivering the sermon on the mount, turn water into wine while feeding 5 thousand, it’s a wonder parishes find anyone to call as their minister.

It’s a good thing Jesus never had to live up to such expectations. Oh wait, yes, he did. That’s why they killed him.

Afterthought:

Although too simplistic, the search could have come down to three questions: Do you know Jesus Christ? Do you follow him? And can you help us do the same?

On the Rocks

“I like my Christianity on the rocks,” said the family matriarch. “Like my bourbon, I want it chilled and slightly watered down.”

It got the desired laughs from those gathered at the dining room table. They were like-minded family members. On her right was the son who complained that the prayers in church sounded like they came from CNN or some radical liberal group. On the left was the daughter who complained the sermons were too focused on current events, and her husband at the far end hadn’t been back to church since the minister said every family should tithe.

As easy as it would be to throw stones at such a gathering, I’m keenly aware how I, too, pick and choose the religion I claim to follow. I believe we’re to serve the poor, but I do little more than nod my head when I hear such things. I give every year to the church and other organizations, but I’m not sure I give 10% of my income. I’ve heard I’m supposed to love my enemies, and yet I can hardly talk to people who interpret the Gospel differently than I. Like the matriarch, I’m just as guilty of liking my gospel watered down.

The problem is, it’s not “my gospel.” It’s not some new wardrobe accessory that comes in different sizes where I find the one that suits me best. It belongs to God and every attempt to mold it to my desires or the whims of society is to pour it over ice to make it taste better.

I need to learn to drink mine straight up.

Espresso Shots:

1.     In what ways do you selectively follow the gospel?

2.     What parts of your faith are hardest to follow, and what parts are the easiest?

3.     What would the implications of your taking the gospel straight up? 

Polite Society

They were usually the first to put up a political sign. This year was different. Although their political views had not changed, their willingness to publicize them had. Fortunately, I was able to learn an important lesson from our neighbors: What we don’t admit says as much as what we do.

Early on, I was taught there are three things not to talk about in polite society: politics, religion and money. They are sensitive topics and can often lead to disagreements, arguments, and hurt feelings, but each is an integral part of our lives. They reveal much about who we are, what we believe, and how we live out those two things in our day to day lives. 

While I’m all for polite society, I wonder if not talking about such things is just a way to keep from admitting things of which we are not proud. Maybe we don’t make much money, or maybe we make a ton. Not talking about money can allow us the freedom to hide our embarrassment or greed. Maybe we prefer not to talk about religion because we’re embarrassed how little we worship or how inconsistent our lives are with the faith we profess. And maybe by not talking about politics we can avoid admitting views that may or may not reflect well on us.

Jesus spoke about keeping secrets. Whether we’re proud or ashamed of our secrets, God knows them all. It doesn’t change a thing if we cling to our bank statements, duck in the back pew, or pull the voting booth curtain tight. It doesn’t change what God already knows. 

Better to look at why I’m trying to hide those things. It’s certainly not because of polite society.