#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