#19 The Waiting Is the Hardest Part

I'm pretty terrible with Christmas presents. At least, I'm pretty terrible about waiting when it comes to Christmas presents. As soon as I get a present for someone, I just want to give it to them right away. This works okay with my parents and my sister because I don't often see them until right before Christmas. But the anticipation of giving Tess her present feels like it about kills me every year. I have the same problem to a lesser extent with presents for me. Once I see that they're wrapped, I just want to open them. Waiting is sooo difficult, but somehow the waiting makes things better. The building anticipation makes the celebration even more delightful than if it just came whenever I wanted it. And the time just needs to be right. Gifts can't be exchanged until work is done so that there's time to enjoy them.

In this season of Advent, we talk a lot about waiting. We remember how God's people waited for years and years for Jesus, the promised Messiah, to come. And we ourselves eagerly wait for Jesus to come again to complete His work, to finish off death and evil and pain and suffering, to bring the fullness of peace, justice, joy, and His presence among us. It's pretty difficult to look around our broken world and not be ready for Jesus to come back. It's pretty difficult to get a taste of peace and justice and not desire the full experience when Jesus returns. (In fact, if we don't wholeheartedly long for Jesus to return, we really need to take a deep look inside ourselves to make sure we haven't fallen into idolatry.) And yet we're still waiting. For nearly 2000 years we've waited. It doesn't totally make sense to me. But I think we need to trust that the waiting will make Jesus' return even better. Somehow all of our years of anticipation will make our eventual satisfaction even sweeter. The time must not be right quite yet. The work that Jesus is doing here and now through His Spirit and in and through His people must not be complete quite yet. So for now we wait. We enjoy the incomplete but still wonderful joy Jesus gives us now. We work to share the comfort and love that Jesus gives us through the things we say and do. And we cling to the hope of Jesus' promise: "Yes, I am coming soon." Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#18 "I'm for Everyone"

One of my favorite Superman stories is Geoff Johns and Gary Frank's Superman and the Legion of Super-Heroes. The story is set in the year 3008. The example of Superman's heroism and integrity has led not just to all of Earth being united but also to the formation of the United Planets. The United Planets are protected by the Legion of Super-Heroes, a diverse group of superpowered teens that has been inspired by Superman to fight for truth and justice. But trouble arises when a guy calling himself "Earth-Man" starts spreading the lie that Superman was from Earth, not Krypton. Earth-Man claims that Superman hated aliens and fought to protect Earth from them. Earth rallies behind Earth-Man and tries to kick out its aliens, which include most of the members of the Legion of Super-Heroes. The Legion, desperate to combat Earth-Man's lies, brings Superman 1000 years into the future to prove that Superman was an alien and a supporter of alien rights. This pays off in a wonderful moment when a human police officer tries to shoot an alien while screaming, "Superman wouldn't help aliens. He's for human rights. He's for us!" Superman stops the officer's bullet, stares him down, and calmly replies, "I'm for everyone."

"I'm for everyone." Sometimes I wonder if Jesus would say something like that to His church today. Jesus Christ is for everyone. We know this. No one would deny it. But it can be really difficult for us to live out. There are obvious examples I could give you here, like persons of color feeling excluded from congregations filled with white people. But it's really easy to cherry pick the grossest examples of injustice to make ourselves feel like we're doing a good job because there are others who we think are worse than we are. Let me try to dig a little bit deeper. How do we feel when a person with Tourette syndrome walks into our church? What about someone in our community who struggles to hold down a job? Are we happy to see them, or do we cringe, expecting them to ask for a handout? Do we feel called to share Jesus with people who are less educated or less wealthy than we are? What about people who are more educated or more wealthy than we are? Do we think Jesus is only for those who seem to have their lives together or that He's only for those who don't seem to have their lives together? Do we reach out to both adults and children? What about the lesbian couple or the teen mom or the ex-convict or the guy who's parked outside the bar most nights? Do we want them as part of our church fellowship, or do we think they're hopeless, not worth our time? Are we welcoming to people from "broken" homes? (Side note: Why do we think that two-parent, first-marriage households aren't broken? Don't we believe that all of us are broken?)

I'm as guilty of this as anyone. If I'm going to talk to someone about Jesus, I know that deep-down I want to have some sort of perceived advantage. I want to be better educated or older or even less insecure. That's ridiculous. I hate it, but I know that it's true about me. And I'm pretty sure it's true of other Christians, too. We have types of people that we love and types of people that we don't love and just really don't even want to love. But we don't get to make decisions about whom we'll tell the good news of Jesus. Jesus is for everyone, whether they know it or not, whether we like it or not. If preach the gospel but ignore people through our actions or inactions, we're hypocrites. If we try to limit Jesus' love to specific groups or try to make Jesus be on our side, we're wrong. Jesus is bigger and better than that. Jesus is for everyone. Praise God for that.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#17 The Baby Is Coming! The Baby Is Coming!

We are less than seven weeks from Tessa's due date. Bit by bit, Baby Girl is taking over my available brain space. I talk about the baby with pretty much everybody I see. We talk about how Tess is doing and how I'm getting ready for the baby to come. I've assembled a bunch of different things by now: a crib, a swing, a Pack 'n Play, a stroller, a high chair. I've carried a whole bunch of outfits and blankets and other gifts up the stairs to her room. I've helped paint the nursery, and I've moved the furniture in. Those are definitely things that help Tess and I prepare for Baby Girl's arrival, but I still always feel a little ridiculous when I talk about getting ready for the baby to come. How do you get ready for something that will change your life forever? How do you prepare yourself for something you've never experienced? I don't have good answers to those questions, so I just keep getting more excited and trying to make sure we have all of the things ready that we'll need the most.

There's a lot I just don't know yet, but one there's one thing I'm pretty sure of. Baby Girl is going to dominate my attention and my affection. I think I'm going to get a lot less helpful to everyone outside of my household. The process has probably already begun. I have no doubt that once Baby Girl makes her appearance, she'll have me wrapped around her little fingers. There's nothing I can do about that. So if you need or want me to do something for you, you better get around to asking pretty quickly. After Baby Girl's birth I think I'm going to switch into full-on Daddy mode. At that point you're probably going to need to convince Baby Girl that I should do whatever you want me to do. She'll be the boss then. And I'm sure I'll love it.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#16 The Pastor as Outsider

Last week I wrote about how pastors are storytellers. Today I want to look at the nature of being a pastor from a different angle. In a few ways, I feel like an outsider as a pastor. This might strike you as a weird thing to say. Isn't the pastor the ultimate insider at the church? In some ways that's true. I know more about what is currently going on at the church than most people. But at this point in my ministry, I've been at the church for less than time than almost everyone else. There's a lot I'm still learning about how things work in this congregation. Plus, in my setting, a large portion of members grew up in this congregation or grew up nearby and have been members for decades. Even after years of ministry, I would be the new kid on the block compared to a lot of these members.

For another thing, in this rural setting, a good number of the church members have relatives at the church: parents, grandparents, children, grandchildren, siblings, etc. And many of those that don't have family members at the church did at one time or have nearby family members outside the church. Like a lot of pastors I know, I don't have family members close by. That makes holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas a little bit different for me. Now, please don't feel sorry for Tess and me. We aren't feeling incredibly lonely. We get vacation time to visit our family at other points in the year. Plus, the church has been incredibly welcoming. We have some church members who took us in for Thanksgiving. Our situation is just a little different from most other church members.

Overall, I feel a little like an outsider around the church, but not too much. Where I feel more like an outsider is in the community. In a small town like Kanawha, it's pretty obvious that I'm the new guy, that I'm not from around here. I didn't marry into a local family or anything like that either. For the most part, the community has been very friendly. But I have a lot to learn. I'm not familiar with all the surrounding towns that come up in conversation. I don't know a whole lot about farming. And let's face it, pastors just seem a little different to a lot of people. It's not a job that a lot of people consider. I'm sure that people will get a lot more used to me as time goes on. After a few years here, I probably won't think much about being an outsider. But for now, being the outsider isn't such a bad thing. It makes me more attentive to others who are entering the community and may feel a bit out of place, and it also motivates me to spend more time in the community and learn as much as I can about this community where God has called me to serve.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#15 The Pastor as Storyteller

When I was in seminary, we spent a lot of time talking about what it means to be a pastor. We looked at what the job requires and what this kind of ministry is like. As we did this, we examined a number of images that helped us understand the role of a pastor. The old form for ordaining pastors in the CRC described pastors as servants, stewards, teachers, sheperds, and ambassadors and heralds. In my brief time as a minister, I've spent some time thinking about what my job is like and how I can explain what I do to others. I think one helpful way to do that is to think of pastors as storytellers.

In the Reformed tradition we sometimes talk of the grand story of God and His world, a story that we usually tell in four acts: creation, fall, redemption, new creation. (Personally, I prefer the term "consummation" to "new creation," but I think new creation is the more common term.) In broad terms, my job as pastor is tell this big story, this story that includes all of us. This story shapes the way we look at the world, giving us hope that the events of our lives are not random and that God is working out His wonderful purposes in all things.

A major part of my work is preaching. In preaching I tell small pieces of this grand story as contained in Scriptures. Because the story of God and His world is centered on Jesus Christ, Jesus' birth, life, death, resurrection, and reign bubble to the surface again and again as I tell different chapters of the story. And as I tell these small pieces of the larger story, I tell stories from our lives that show how we fit into God's grand story and how His master story relates to our day-to-day experiences. (Even my sermon structures are directly shaped by stories; I was taught a narrative style of preaching in seminary.)

But my storytelling work doesn't end in the pulpit. When I make pastoral visits, I listen to others' stories and work to understand the people I meet each day. I try to ask questions that lead to stories, and these stories shape the way I preach and teach. Often we read Scripture at the end of visits and connect our stories with the larger narrative. When we close our visits in prayer, we bring our stories before God, thanking Him for His faithfulness and provision, lamenting our pain and suffering, asking for His help and signs of His presence. When I teach in settings such as youth group and Bible studies, I try to use stories to illustrate what the life of God's kingdom looks like in our circumstances. When I do the work of mentoring and discipleship, I help others tell their stories, seeing how God works out that familiar pattern of sin, salvation, service in an unending variety of contexts and settings. When I tell others about Jesus, I look for ways to tell stories of how God is active in my life and our world, stories that show what following Christ means to me.

In Acts 3, after a beggar is healed of lameness at the temple gate called Beautiful, Peter and John tell the story to the crowd as part of the continuing story of Jesus' work in the world. They stress that they are witnesses of these events. I see my work in that light. I look for how Jesus is at work in His world through His Spirit and I tell those stories in the context of the grand story of God and His world. I, too, am a witness. And that means I have stories to tell.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#14 Tears for Tim

The weekend of my ordination I had a "welcome to the ministry" kind of moment. I was beginning a series on Job that week, and on Friday morning I was writing my sermon when Tess got ahold of me. She let me know that Pastor Tim Koster, the pastor of Emmanuel CRC, the church we had attended in college, was stopping medical treatment. He and his wife had decided that he was ready to die and go to be with the Lord. It felt like everything froze around me. The news left me stunned.

I didn't know Pastor Tim super well, but he had been my pastor for the better part of three-and-a-half years. Pastor Tim helped me get started working with the high school youth group at Emmanuel. While I was in seminary, I ran into Pastor Tim at worship symposium each year. He was always excited to hear how I was doing and was quick to offer encouragement. He was a kind, caring, and compassionate man. He provided steady leadership and spoke with a soft but weighty voice. Pastor Tim was respected in his community and beloved in his congregation. I had a ton of respect for this man of God. He was very much the kind of pastor that I would like to be. If God uses me to minister even half as well in my setting as Pastor Tim seemed to minister in his setting, I would consider myself very blessed.

Tess and I had learned that Pastor Tim was sick back in the spring. Emmanuel invited me to come and fill the pulpit for him in April, which was a huge honor. A week or so before that, I had a brief conversation with Pastor Tim. He told me about the procedures he would be undergoing and told me that he was feeling optimistic. He wished me blessings in my job search and told me to let him know if there was any way he could be of assistance. I remember walking away from that conversation filled with joy. It was so good to talk to Pastor Tim again.

On the Friday I learned that Pastor Tim was ready to die, I spent some time reading Facebook updates to get a better sense of what was going on. Afterward, as I sat in front of my computer, trying to work on the sermon some more, I broke down. As the tears rolled down my cheeks, I thought about how unfair Tim's coming death seemed and about the pain and grief his family and his congregation were experience. And then I came to a realization about the nature of my ministry: I'm the person in my church community that others come to talk to about their pain and grief. I don't have a pastor in the same way that other people do. This was something that we talked about in seminary, but this experience really brought it home to me. It was a strange thought, a scary thought. But at the same time, it was a validating thought. In that moment I wanted someone to talk to, someone to share the experience with. I get to be that person for others. God calls me to walk beside others in their grief and pain. It won't be easy or smooth, but it will be honest. It will be heartfelt. It will be real. And I think that's a lot of what ministry is about.

(P.S. Please don't feel sorry for me. That is NOT my intention here. It's not like I'm in this alone. Tess and I support each other. I have family and friends outside the church that I can talk to. I have a mentor in my classis pastor, and he serves as my pastor in a way. Plus, while my relationship with my congregation is not level in some ways, they definitely support me, especially my council members.)

Grace and peace,
BMH

#13 Lift Up Your Hearts

Yesterday, we celebrated communion at Kanawha CRC for the first time since my ordination. I was incredibly excited. Communion (or, if you prefer, the Lord's Supper) is probably my favorite part of our worship services. Much of my love for this sacrament comes from the three years Tess and I attended Grace CRC in Grand Rapids, MI. Grace celebrates communion on the first Sunday of every month plus every Sunday during Advent and Lent. Celebrate is really the key word here. We would sing a few songs while groups came up to receive the bread and the cup, and those songs always ended on a joyfully grateful note. I was frequently left in awe of God's goodness and grace.

But this atmosphere of celebration and joy isn't the case in all the churches where I've taken communion. Often the mood is somber, reflective, and even funeral-like. I think that it is good to reflect on Jesus' sacrifice. Being aware of our own sinfulness is key to better understanding and appreciating God's grace to us in Jesus. But I firmly believe that we are missing out if our communion experiences are only somber all the time. We talk about celebrating the sacrament, and we have much to celebrate. Let's run down the list:

• In communion, we remember Jesus' sacrificial death, which may indeed lead us to quiet reflection. But we also do this because Jesus' death was not the end. Our Lord rose from the dead, ascended into heaven, and is coming again! Jesus' death paid for our sins and brought us forgiveness, and it was His victory over the powers of this world (see Colossians 2:15). Jesus' death is part of His triumph, which is also our triumph.
• In communion, we remember that "we who are many are one body." Jesus Christ overcomes all human divisions and make His chosen people into one new people. In communion we celebrate our unity by sharing the bread and the cup.
• Through communion, God strengthens and nourishes our faith. As the Heidelberg Catechism says, God's Spirit creates faith through preaching and confirms faith through sacraments (Q&A 65). Communion helps us better understand what Christ has done for us (Q&A 66). Bread and wine/juice are food for our physical lives, just as Jesus' body and blood are food for our spiritual lives (Q&A 79). God is at work in communion! He holds out the blessings and benefits of Jesus for us to receive by the Holy Spirit and faith. Communion is indeed "the gifts of God for the people of God."
• In communion, we get a foretaste of life when God's kingdom fully comes. At the last supper, Jesus said that He wouldn't drink wine again until He drank it new in God's kingdom (see Matthew 26:29). Communion is just a taste to whet our appetite for the great feast that awaits us, the great banquet of God.
• In communion, the Holy Spirit lifts us up into Jesus' heavenly presence. In the Reformed tradition, we firmly believe both that Jesus has ascended to heaven and that Jesus is present when we celebrate communion here on earth. As we understand it, Jesus' physical body remains in heaven, but He is spiritually present in our celebration. Rather than talking about Jesus coming down to us in communion, we speak of Christ lifting us up to Him. This is why we often say "lift up your hearts" at the beginning of our communion celebrations. We believe that communion is a taste of heaven!

So next time you take, eat and drink, remember, and believe, I encourage you to do so with joy and gladness. Our sins are forgiven, our enemies are defeated, our Lord is reigning and present with us, our Savior feeds us with Himself, we are united as a renewed people, and we look forward to an even greater celebration yet to come. Let's celebrate!

Grace and peace,

BMH

#12 Words, Words, Words

I've never thought of myself as a very verbal person. I was a math major in college. Except for when I'm with family and my closest friends, I'm normally pretty content to just sit and listen in group settings. In school I was always happier taking tests where I could spit back facts than writing essays where I had to put things into my own words.

But now, it seems, my whole life revolves around words. I am constantly searching for the right words. I'm leading profession of faith class discussions and trying to carefully explain what we believe about mysteries such as the Trinity and the incarnation. I'm visiting with church members and neighbors and trying to pick the right thing to say to prove that I'm listening and understanding them. I'm carefully crafting emails in the hopes that I can get my message across without being misinterpreted. I'm agonizing over my sermon, desperately trying to explain the gospel in a way that's engaging and faithful to my Scripture passage. Even writing this blog can sometimes feel like communication exercise.

Overall, I think the newly more verbal Brian is developing pretty well. I'm getting more comfortable with all the speaking and writing, and I think I'm getting better at explaining things in terms that other people can understand. However, by the time Monday rolls around each week, I'm pretty worn out. Thankfully, I get a full day of recovery and relative silence before putting a few thoughts together for this blog. So if I you find me to be a little quiet or slow to respond, don't worry. I'm just trying to find the right words.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#11 I've Got Too Much Time on My Hands

I'm not in school anymore! I realize school has been going on for a couple months now, but I think about that everyone once in a while. One of the things that's been weirdest for me to adjust to is the amount of time I have. Not that I have a ton of free time. I'm definitely staying busy. But for the first time in my life, I really don't know when my time here will end. Up until now, I've always had a pretty clear expiration date: this many years of school, so many weeks at an internship, etc. But here in Kanawha, I'm not a fixed deadline. There's no end in sight. I suppose I probably won't be here forever, but I have no plans of leaving. I'm in this for the long haul, and that's a good feeling. I'm happy to be here with time on my hands.

But having time on my hands takes some getting used to. I'm used to having to get things done quickly. I'm used to deadlines and due dates. As a pastor, I definitely have to do things in a punctual manner. Each week I have to get a sermon ready for Sunday. There are regular visits I need to make. Council meetings come every month, and there are responsibilites I need to take care of between meetings. But a lot of my work is less time-constrained. I'm hoping to help church members grow in faith and to equip them for works of service. I'm trying to build relationships in my community. I'm working to teach local youth a little more about what it means to be Christian. These things take time. Sometimes I find myself wondering if I'm making any progress or worried that I've missed an opportunity, but that's really not a helpful perspective. I do need to be faithful about building relationships and witnessing and serving, but there's no need to rush. I've got time on my hands. What's more, God is the one who brings church growth and spiritual growth and who leads people to Christ. Outcomes aren't something I need to worry about; diligence and Christlikeness are what I need. Now if only I could totally get that through my head.

Grace and peace,

BMH

#10 Job and Jesus

I spent the past five Sundays preaching on the book of Job. Job is a fascinating book and a difficult book. Job's experience is much more relatable than it appears at first glance. I don't know too many people that have lost all their children (plus all their possessions) at one time. But we are familiar with the experience of suffering, of struggling with pain and hardship that we don't understand. We know the pain of wondering why we face such troubles and how God could allow this to happen. And, as one of my wise seminary friends told me, suffering on any of level can feel like it fills us entirely.

Our friend Job doesn't just accept his suffering. He cries out with brutal honesty to express his pain and protest that he doesn't deserve all this. Job feels he has no choice but to conclude that God is behind all of his pain, and so he begs and pleads and finally demands that God answer him. And God does answer. But God's response is frustratingly beautiful and beautifully frustrating. God never explains why Job has gone through all that he has. The thrust of what God says is, to paraphrase a couple of my seminary profs, I am God and you are not. My world and the way I run it are too big and complicated for you to understand. But I understand it all. You can trust me. And you must trust me. 

This response seems to be enough for Job. Job is both honored and humbled that God would talk to him. Job knows that God has been listening. Job is satisfied to know that God hasn't rejected him. And then God says that Job is His servant and proves it by listening to Job's prayers and by restoring Job's possessions and giving him new children. The book of Job leaves us with this hope: God listens to and doesn't reject His servants, and God can bring restoration after even the worst suffering.

But for us, this response can be hard to take. Sure, Job was restored, but it can be hard for us to believe that things will work out for us, that God is really trustworthy. Here's where we need Jesus. All of Scripture needs to be read with a focus on Jesus, but that seems especially true with the book of Job. God in effect tells Job to trust Him because He's God. But Jesus shows us so much more clearly who God is. Jesus shows us that God loves us so much that God Himself would join our suffering in Jesus Christ. Christ understands our suffering because He is as human as we are. And Jesus suffered for us to bring about our restoration. Jesus died and rose to break the power of sin and death and suffering. We can be confident that God listens to our prayers because His beloved Son, Jesus, brings our prayers before God. When we suffer, Christ is present with us through His Holy Spirit. And Jesus promises us that He is coming back to fully do away with all of our brokenness and pain. Jesus shows us that God is trustworthy because Jesus so clearly shows us that God is love. Jesus shows us so clearly that God uses His power and wisdom on our behalf. Through Jesus we have the hope of restoration, even though we die.

When it comes to the suffering and brokenness and pain that fill our world, we cannot fully answer the why question, as much as we would like to. God doesn't give us easy answers. But instead of why, we can talk about who Jesus is and what He has done. This is the hope and comfort that Job points us to. This is the hope and comfort that we can and must share. Our pain and suffering are real and difficult. God cares about these things. He shows us by giving us the book of Job, and He shows this most of all by giving us Jesus.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#9 Two Things

1. Politics are everywhere in U.S. news with the election less than a month away. Every once in a while I run across an article or clip that references a pastor endorsing a candidate. I'm not sure I can fully express how much that troubles and angers me. I think that pastors, like all citizens, should have their own carefully considered political opinions. But I believe that a pastor publicly endorsing a candidate is wrong, even if the statement of approval comes outside the pulpit. As Christians we represent Jesus Christ, and as pastors we formally represent His church. Publicly supporting a specific candidate as a pastor ties Jesus Christ and His church to that candidate and that party in the minds of a lot of people. That's wrong. Christ is not a Republican or a Democrat or a member of any other party. Pastors endorsing candidates can make others think that all Christians belong to a specific party or agree on a single candidate. That can easily push away those who hold opposite opinions on political issues, but the church transcends political parties and even national boundaries. Furthermore, as pastors we hold authority, whether we like it or not. Supporting a specific candidate comes across as an attempt to use that authority to influence another person's vote. I believe that is a gross misuse of pastoral authority. We can't find a passage in Scripture that tells us which party to vote for. There are no Bible verses that lay out a specific policy on health care or energy (though God does teach us moral principles that should shape our thinking when evaluating different options). This is an area where we can and should use our Christian freedom to decide for ourselves how we think we can best serve Christ and His kingdom with our vote. Christians, pleae, follow the Holy Spirit's leading through your conscience and make up your opinion, instead of taking someone else's opinion, especially a church leader's. I really don't think serving in a church makes someone more qualified to speak on political issues.

2. [Note: I'm not sure everything in this paragraph is going to be phrased as well as possible. If I say something misleading or hurtful, please correct me and help me to use my words more wisely in the future.] There has been a ton of discussion about the 2005 recording of some of Mr. Trump's comments about women released on Friday. Let me be clear: Mr. Trump's comments describe adultery and sexual assault. These comments and the actions they describe are inexcusable, deplorable, and sinful. This is a moral, not a political, issue, and I don't think there can be too many men speaking out against this kind of behavior, behavior that horribly takes advantage of the privilege and power that men, particularly white men, have in our society. But Mr. Trump's comments aren't the only ones that upset me. I've heard too many men saying that these comments are an outrage because they demean someone's daughter or sister or wife. (And I must admit, I sometimes think along these lines, too.) When we say things like that, we seem to be basing the identity and value of a woman based on whichever man she is most closely connected to. That's wrong. These women have identity and value as their own people. Women and men, girls and boys, females and males and persons who identify with both genders or neither gender, persons whose chromosomes are XX or XY or any other possible variation--all people are created in God's image. As human beings, we all have equal value and dignity. We should be upset by these comments because they objectify another human being. It doesn't matter if we have a personal connection with another person. It doesn't matter if we feel more similar to them or more dissimilar to someone else. We should be outraged when any one of us is treated as less than human, treated like an object for someone else's gratification. We cannot be silent when our fellow humans are degraded like this. What's more, if we have power and privilege, we must use them to combat injustice and to work for justice. If we have power and privilege, we must empty ourselves and be first to serve and honor and respect others. Let's treat others as we'd like them to treat us.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#8 Friday Night Lights

(Author's note: If you were expecting a thoughtful and possibly even thought-provoking post after last week, this post might not be for you.)

I don't understand high school football. Let me clarify. I understand how the game works. I know the object of the game, the rules, the different positions, all of that. I'd say I understand the joy of competition in general and team sports in particular. I'm pretty sure I understand school spirit and hometown pride and all of that. But I guess I just don't get why high school football is such a big deal. Why does football seem to be so much more important than other sports? And why is it that I generally enjoy pro football and absolutely love college football but just don't feel all that excited about high school football?

Maybe part of the explanation lies in my background. My high school didn't have a football team. It never has, and almost certainly never will. (For that matter, my college has never had a football team either.) The first time I went to a high school football game was this fall. I've now been to two varsity games and one JV game. So I didn't grow up with high school football. Lots of schools around me had it, but I felt pretty indifferent about what other schools did. High school football wasn't part of my culture.

Beyond that, I was a cross country runner all through high school and college. Cross country is much quieter and simpler and more individual than football is. And the thing about cross country runners--at least most of the ones I know--is that we kind of view ourselves as athletic outsiders. For the most part, nobody outside of the cross country program makes a big deal out of cross country. So we runners sort of developed a chip on our shoulder and prided ourselves on being tough enough to compete without all the attention. Could I be bitter about or jealous of the attention that football gets? Maybe.

Maybe I'm just not the right age for high school football. I'm too old to be a high school student, so I don't have the joy of watching my peers. I'm too young to be a parent, so I don't have the joy of watching my kids. Plus, I'm in a new area. I know a few of the kids at West Hancock High School, but maybe I just haven't built up enough affection for the school yet. I don't know, though. I felt pretty engaged when I caught a volleyball match a couple weeks ago.

Maybe I just find high school football to be kind of...well, boring. (Gasp!) I realize this is nearly sacrilegious, but hear me out. The games can take forever, and there's a lot of standing around between plays. The clock seems to always be stopping, the ball often gets lost in a mass of bodies, and it can be really hard to tell from midfield if somebody scored before the officials signal. Plus, West Hancock is really good this year. The couple games I've seen haven't been good games at all. We were up 45-0 at halftime last Friday night. I spent most of the game talking to a five-year-old girl from my church. Honestly, I had more fun with that than watching the game. And even when I watch higher levels of football, I'm often doing something else at the same time. I realize how uncool this makes me, but I spent most of Saturday's Wisconsin-Michigan game reading The Banner between plays.

Finally, maybe high school football just makes me nervous. I've read a decent number of articles on football and concussions. Each time a player is a little slow to get up, I get concerned. I struggle to cheer for a big hit. I just hope the kids make it out okay. When I think about having my own kids, I have serious reservations about letting my own child play tackle football. However, I don't seem to worry quite as much when I watch higher level football; maybe that's becuase college and pro players are older. I don't know. For now, I guess I just don't totally understand high school football. I'll just have to keep trying. Maybe the lightbulb will go on soon. If not, I could always find some cross country.

Grace and peace,
Brian

#7 America Is NOT a "Christian Nation"

I'd like to make a proposal. I think we should all agree to remove the phrase "Christian nation" from our vocabulary. First of all, not everyone in the United States identifies as a Christian. It's insulting to them to call the U.S. a Christian nation. I'd certainly like everyone everywhere to belong to Jesus Christ, but I don't think using somewhat insulting terms like "Christian nation" is going to help that cause.

Second, the whole idea that the U.S. was founded on Christian principles is, to put it charitably, much less historically supported than we might like to believe. We spent a whole day of church history in seminary poking holes in this claim. For one thing, the constitution mentions religion exactly once, and there it says that religion cannot be used to stop someone from running for office. (We had about nine other points, but this isn't my main topic in this post. If you'd like to hear more, let me know in the comments, and I'll dig out my church history notes.)

Third--and I'd like to think most importantly--I think our whole concept of a "Christian nation" just doesn't really make sense. If you want to say Christianity equals the church, well, the church, the people of God, isn't national or even international; the church is transnational. If you want to change terms slightly and say Christianity equals the kingdom of God, well, Jesus says that His kingdom is not of this world (John 18:36); sure, the kingdom exists here and now, but it's about more than just the earth. Paul says that God's purpose is "to bring to unity all things in heaven and on earth under Christ" (Ephesians 1:9-10). God's people extend far beyond the U.S. American laws aren't the same as God's laws. And besides, nations are rightly designed to act for their own self-interests. But our Lord Christ emptied Himself to serve others, and He calls His people to do the same. Christianity doesn't put up borders, but nations really must have some kind of border, even if it's really easy to cross. Christian and nation don't fully go together.

In fact, I'd say that the new and shocking inclusiveness of the people of God in the new age of Christ is one of the more prominent themes of the New Testament. Jesus teaches Samaritans (John 4) and praises the faith of a Canaanite woman (Matthew 15) and a Roman centurion (Luke 7). Christ says that He has sheep from outside of the sheep pen of Israel (John 10), tells His church to make disciples of all nations (Matthew 28), and prophesies that His church will be His witnesses to the ends of the earth (Acts 1). The book of Acts makes a big deal of how God's Spirit shows that Samaritans (Acts 8) and Gentiles (Acts 10, 11, 15) are now part of God's chosen people. Paul's writings are clear that salvation is for all people (Romans 1:16), that Jews and non-Jews are part of the one body of Christ (1 Corinthians 12:13), and that the distinctions between nations are unimportant in Christ (Galatians 3:28, Colossians 3:11). In fact, Paul says that creating one new humanity of both Jews and Gentiles was central to God's purposes in Christ (Ephesians 2). Finally, John envisions the people of God as "a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people, and language" (Revelation 7:9). I'm afraid that if we focus too much on the U.S. as a "Christian nation" we might start to think that Christians in other nations, especially those without a Christian majority, don't really count or aren't really the same as us. We might become blinded by our own U.S.-centric biases and start believing an "American gospel" instead of the gospel.

Additionally, I don't want us to get too worried about the current state or apparent future of the U.S. For one thing, the Bible is clear that, no matter what, Jesus Christ is King of all (for example, Colossians 1, Ephesians 1, Philippians 2, 1 Corinthians 15). No matter what our government looks like or how secure we feel, Jesus is in control. And even if the U.S. should become 0% Christian or sink into the sea, God's mission would continue. The people of God is the church, not any nation. God's mission and the mission of His people doesn't stand or fall based on how Christian the U.S. is. For another thing, the U.S. (or any other nation) isn't our true home. Paul says our citizenship is heaven (Philippians 3:20). Both Peter and the author of Hebrews say that we are foreigners here on earth (1 Peter 1:17, 2:12; Hebrews 11:13). Now, until Christ comes again, we live here on earth, and we might even have the privileges of citizenship in some earthly nation. We should use our rights wisely and carry out our responsibilities dutifully. We should submit to our governments (Romans 13, 1 Peter 2), pray for those in authority over us (1 Timothy 2), and pay taxes as required (Matthew 22). But when we give our governments their due, we must remember that God deserves everything we have, including our votes. Let's think about how we can honor God with our votes. And no matter the outcome, let's remember that Christ still reigns.

Finally, we need to realize, as the early Christians and their contemporaries in the Roman empire did, that saying "Jesus is Lord" means there can be no other. Caesar isn't lord. The president isn't lord. America isn't lord. Those of us who live in the heart of America, the modern-day empire of Babylon or Rome, need to be especially careful that we don't compromise for the sake of comfort. We need to watch out so that America doesn't become an idol for us, that we don't equate worshiping God with serving America or even hold up the U.S. as an alternative to God. Jesus Christ is Lord. He calls us to deny ourselves and our self-interests and follow Him, joining His body, the church, which transcends all national borders. Let's remember that our ultimate allegiance is to God: if ever there is conflict, we must obey God rather than human beings (Acts 5:29). So let's drop the whole "Christian nation" thing and get our priorities straight. We belong to God first and thus also to His people. Our true kingdom will one day put an end to all others (Daniel 2, Revelation 19-20), and then, when God is all in all, we will have our true and never-ending Christian nation, our Christian empire, our Christian world (Revelation 21).

Grace and peace,
BMH

#6 The End Is Not the End

Yesterday afternoon I was ordained as a minister of the Word in the Christian Reformed Church in North America, which means I have now officially become the pastor of Kanawha Christian Reformed Church. The day was a lot of fun. I preached in the morning; then the congregation celebrated with a potluck. During the afternoon service I pledged, with the Spirit's help, to serve Jesus Christ and His church. Pastor Frank, my classis-appointed mentor, led a time of prayer, and elders and pastors laid their hands on me. Tess and I greeted visitors and family and friends after church, and we continued celebrating over dessert. The whole experience was pretty surreal. I've finally reached the goal of my formal education. We even took celebratory pictures.

Tess and me in front of the church

My sister Molly, my parents, and my grandma came for the celebration.

Our friends Kathryn, Eric, and Lindsay also came out for the ordination.

But as fun as yesterday was, it was really more of a beginning than an ending. What I've been looking forward to all this time isn't so much the end of my time of preparation but the beginning of my career of ministry. In some ways I'm just continuing the work that I've already been doing here, but things have changed. Now when I bring a message from God's Word, my speaking is technically preaching and no longer exhorting. Now I am authorized to administer the sacraments of baptism and communion. Now I have been entrusted with the privilege of raising my hands and giving God's blessing to God's people.

As I enter the pastorate, I think that this is quite the calling. To be honest, I feel terribly unworthy. But it really doesn't matter what I think. This is where I have felt God leading me, and though His church He has told me that I am ready to take up this work. The time is now. When I made profession of faith, my pastor wrote me a note that included a few verses from 2 Timothy 1. Verse 6 always stood out to me: "For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands." That charge has never felt more real and weighty to me than right now. Thankfully, I don't decide if I am qualified, nor am I alone in this ministry. The very next verse of 2 Timothy says, "For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love, and self-discipline." Like Timothy, I am a young man at the beginning of the adventurous journey of ministry, and like Timothy, I have the Spirit with me to lead me, comfort me, challenge me, and defend me. Praise God for that!

Grace and peace,
BMH

#5 Judgment Day

Today was my examination before Classis North Central Iowa. This was the last step in my journey to becoming ordained as a minister of the Word in the Christian Reformed Church in North America. The exam had three stages. First, I was asked practical questions about my life, my sense of calling, and how I would respond to different situations in ministry. Second, two pastors reviewed an assigned Old Testament sermon that I preached a few weeks ago, as well as manuscripts for a New Testament sermon and a Heidelberg Catechism sermon that I chose to submit. Third, I was asked questions about my biblical and theological knowledge. After a number of general questions about some of the basics of our faith, I was asked some more specific questions about topics such as a Christian response to persons who identify as LGBTQ+, different views of creation, and how to handle this year's election as a pastor. Overall, the exam went really well, and I am really pleased to report that I sustained my examination.

Talking through the practical section of the exam

Receiving the results with Tess

So this is it. I've been actively working to become a minister for the past three years, and now I've fulfilled all of my requirements. It's all over except for the upcoming celebration of my ordination on Sunday. For the most part, I have really enjoyed this journey, but I am also pretty relieved that it's over. I've felt called to be a minister for eight or nine years, so it is very reassuring to have that sense of calling affirmed by both the local congregation and the broader church. Since I began seminary in 2013, I have learned a lot about God and about myself, about what we believe and about caring for others. God has been incredibly good to me throughout this journey, and I'm excited to see how He will use me as I begin a career of professional ministry. To God alone be the glory!

To close, I'll leave you with the text of the Classical Diploma I was given after the exam:

This certifies that Brian Hofman, having been examined by Classis North Central Iowa in the presence of the deputies representing synod, is sound in faith and qualified for the work of Christian ministry.

After a favorable decision by this classis and with the concurrence of the synodical deputies, the candidate is hereby declared qualified for and is admitted to the sacred ministry of the Word in the Christian Reformed Church in North America. In witness whereof we have caused this diploma to be signed by the president and clerk of this session of classis and have affixed the seal of this classis hereto on this 13th day of September in the year of our Lord 2016.

May the King of the church cause His servant to be a blessing--that the church may be edified, sinners may be led to conversion, and the glory of the triune God may be promoted.

Grace and peace,

BMH

#4 Janie and the 100K

Friday was a historic day for me. As of September 2, 2016, I have put over 100,000 miles on my 1999 Honda Civic. (Yes, those of you who haven't seen me in a while, I'm still driving that same car.) I understand that this isn't normal. With the help of a loan from my parents, I picked up a used car in April 2007, two months after getting my drivers' license, and that car is still going strong. When I think of my Civic, I must confess that God has been good to me.

Janie, my Civic, is old enough to be a high school senior. She's been a part of my life for nearly ten years, which is longer than I've known Tess. Clearly I'm much closer to Tess, but still, 2007 was a while ago. Janie and I have a lot of memories. Some of the best conversations I've had with a lot of my closest friends have taken place in my car. Janie was there the night of the great 2008 Waupun flood when I was worried she was going to be washed off the flooded road. I remember packing up my Civic to head off to college and have a heart-to-heart with Molly as we drove down to Trin. Tess and I had our first kiss in my car late in the fall of 2009. I was driving Janie when I got pulled over for having too many passengers--six girls!--in my car as a college freshman, and I dug Janie out after the Snowpocalypse of early 2011. My Civic was my companion when I fought sleep on the way back from visiting Tess in the summers during college, and I remember chatting with my dad as I drove the Civic over to Sheboygan Falls on my wedding day. Janie came with me to seminary in Michigan, trekked out to Washington and back with me last summer, and now is settling into her Iowa plates, the third set she's had since I got her. There have been times where Janie felt like my girlfriend or my child, and it looks like I'll still be driving her when I bring my first child back from the hospital. Janie might only be an inanimate object, but I think at this point owning a green Civic has become part of my self-identity. I can't begin to count the number of jam sessions Janie and I have had. At this point Janie is rolling towards old age. I'm not sure how much longer we'll be together, but I'm pretty confident at this point that she'll never have another owner, and I bet I'll bawl like a baby when Janie finally does call it quits. But for now, this post is for you, Janie. You're the best car a guy could ever have.

Janie in Waupun back in high school

Janie with window paint late in 2008

Janie with window paint early in 2009

Janie ready for the trip to Washington

100,000 miles together! (Tess took this picture while I drove.)

Janie with me in her new Iowa home

Grace and peace,

BMH

#3 Of Comfort and Calling

I said it was my goal to blog about once a week. I managed to keep that up for two weeks. Whoops! I'll try to be more consistent in the future, and maybe I'll even pump out an extra post in the next week or so to make up for missing last week. We'll see. I do have a few ideas developing in the back of my head.

So this week I'm back in Wisconsin, taking some extra time to do some reading and prep for my upcoming examination by my classis. (A classis is a regional group of churches. I need to be examined before I can officially be ordained as a minister of the Word.) The trip and study time have been pretty great so far, though on Monday my mom did finally get me to go through all my stuff in my old room. I found a lot of things that brought back cherished memories or reminded me of things that I haven't thought about in years. However, there was one item in particular that stood out.

In 2006, coming out of my freshman year of high school, I participated in a SERVE project in Benton Harbor, MI. At the end of the week, my work crew wrote notes to each other on paper plates. While I was cleaning my room this week, I found my paper plate. One of the girls I met on the trip had written "I think you should be a pastor" to me. I remember thinking that that comment was really weird when I first read it and had never had any thoughts about going into ministry. Now, on the brink of proving that girl right, I'd love to go back in time and ask her just what it was she saw in fifteen-year-old me that made her think I should be a pastor. (Sorry about the generic references! I saw the name of my SERVE friend when I read the plate, but I can't remember it again. I'm now in Sheboygan Falls visiting my in-laws, while the plate is in a box back in Waupun, waiting to make the journey to Iowa.)

As amazing as it is that someone else could see that I should be a pastor about two years before I even entertained the idea, I don't find it all that surprising. These prophetic words remind me of one of the Bible verses that is most dear to me, Jeremiah 1:5: "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations." (Quick interpretive detour: clearly this verse refers specifically to the prophet Jeremiah. However, I believe it finds its greatest fulfillment in Jesus Christ, our chief prophet and teacher, and, following the Heidelberg Catechism, I believe that I share in Jesus' anointing as prophet, priest, and king. So I think I can safely apply this to me as well as to all the rest of God's people. We aren't all called to be pastors, but God does have a calling for each of us.) It is unbelievably comforting and wonderful that God would have a plan for me even before my birth. It's taken me a while to get to the end of my journey of becoming a pastor, and I am definitely intimidated by the call at times, so it's incredibly encouraging to think that God has been working out His purposes for me for years and that I'm not the only one who can see it in me. Right now I'm really excited about being a pastor and don't need much affirmation, but more difficult days will come. Hopefully on those days, God will remind me that I didn't just decide to be a pastor. He chose and called me and used others to confirm that sense of call.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#2 Judgment Calls

Let's talk about opinions. I know I'm not the only one writing about opinions because I've read a couple articles on this theme. (Here's an example from Screen Rant.) So I'm not breaking new ground here, but this topic has been on my mind for a few months now. I'm writing this post to help me express something that I've been thinking about for a while but also to see if anyone else has any insights to further the conversation. Here goes.

Back in March, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice was released in theaters. Film reviewers, for the most part, were critical of the film, and the majority of reviews were negative. As you'd expect, a lot of people who went to see the movie liked it, and a lot of others didn't. (Full disclosure: I really, really enjoyed BvS. I would say there's only one superhero movie that's been released in my lifetime that I enjoyed more. In fact, Tess bought me the "Ultimate Edition" of this movie as an anniversary present.) Because I was so interested in the film, I read a lot of articles about it after its release. I found a lot of discussion about whether the critics were right or wrong. Was the film good or bad? And, at a more individual level, were your feelings about the film correct or incorrect?

As I've reflected on this, I'm left with this question: what kind of questions are those? To put it another way, where did we get the idea that opinions are right or wrong? When did we forget how opinions work? Speaking in gross generalizations here, Americans are an individualistic bunch. So how come we're so concerned about what others think about movies? (or TV shows? or music? or some other art form?) Why do we think that people who enjoy different things than we do or people who--gasp!--don't enjoy the things we do are somehow wrong?

Before we go on, it's confession time. I'm just as guilty of this as others. I would love to tell what the best Star Wars movie is. I will probably tell you that you're wrong if you tell me that you don't like Lord of the Rings. And I am prepared to go on thirty-minute tirades about why Superman is the better than other superheroes or about why DC movies are better than Marvel movies. (Just ask Tess. She's heard some of my frustrated ramblings.) But that kind of talk is foolish. I don't want to do that anymore. I'm trying to reform, to move on to saying things like "My favorite book in The Chronicles of Narnia is The Silver Chair" and "I prefer The End Is Not the End to other House of Heroes albums." I tried to be very careful about how I talked about BvS above, and I hope that others will hold me accountable if I slip into right/wrong talk about opinions in the future.

Now that my confession is complete, I have one more thing that I'm wondering about. We live in a day and age that likes to say that there are no absolute truths, especially when it comes to things like morality and religion. And yet, it seems to be absolute truth that, for example, Captain America: Civil War is a good movie, while Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice is a bad movie. But not even all film critics agree on these movies. Neither has 100% positive or negative reviews. As a Christian, I believe that there are absolute truths in the areas of religion and ethics. I believe that there is a God who is the Creator of heaven and earth and who has univeral standards for how humans should live. I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and that He is the only way for humans to come to God. I believe there is one God in three persons. But I don't think there are absolutes in the area of art. Since I believe that one God created flamingos and tigers and puffer fish and everything else and that He also created humans as men and women and--to quote the Sunday school song--"red and yellow, black and white," I believe that God rejoices in diversity and multiplicity. I think it only makes sense that we should have different tastes in movies and music and stories and art. I think God delights in our creativity and uniqueness. I believe God reveals Himself and His beauty in all kinds of things and in ways we wouldn't necessarlily expect. In the end, I think we've got our absolutes mixed up. We look for absolutes where we shouldn't and don't look for absolutes where we should.

So if you also liked Batman v Superman, let's talk about that. And if you didn't like BvS but liked some other movie instead, please tell me about what you like about that other movie. I hope we have the courage to make up our own opinions when it comes to art, instead of worrying about what others think. Let's stop trying to be the same. Let's stop trying to have the "right" opinions. I don't think that makes sense, anyway.

Grace and peace,

BMH

#1 The Adventures Begin (Again)!

Yesterday I accepted a call to become minister of the Word at Kanawha Christian Reformed Church. This seems like as a good a point as any to start a new blog, so here goes:

It has been a little more than two months since I graduated from seminary. In that time the most remarkable thing has happened. I've started to feel more like myself than I have in years. While I was in seminary, I turned much less frequently to some of the habits and hobbies that had defined me throughout high school and college. Part of that was busyness. Part of that was spending more of my free time with my wife. Tess and I got married about a month before I started seminary, so naturally I had to set aside some of my individual pursuits to make sure I was paying enough attention to Tess. Finally, to be fair, I did pick up a few different habits. Wanting a quick and easy read that would be a huge change-of-pace from seminary reading, I started reading comic collections more often in seminary than before.

But in the past couple months I've had more free time. Especially during my seven-and-a-half weeks in Iowa I've started doing some of the things I love more regularly. I've been running consistently--if not all that intensely. I've been playing guitar at least a couple of times each week. And, in addition to some comics, I've been reading some non-illustrated books at my own pace. I've read How God Became King and all of The Chronicles of Narnia. I just started rereading Once a Runner, and I've been slowly working through some Ante-Nicene Fathers. (I do like theology pretty well, I just like to read it in small doses.)

Overall it's been wonderful. I didn't feel like I wasn't myself during seminary, but now that I've graduated, I do think that I had part of myself somewhat buried during those three years. It's nice to feel like I have all of myself again. It's good to restart some old adventures while embarking on some new ones. Up, up, and away!

Grace and peace,
BMH