Category Archives: Pastor Thoughts

Why Worship? – Pastor Thoughts

Back when I was still going to seminary (pastor school), I found myself in church on a Sunday contemplating, “Why are we all here, doing this?” When I stepped back, I really wanted to know why all the people who were there on Sunday had come to sing, pray, read the Bible and receive the bread and wine together. Why did they do this, instead of all the other possible things that they could do on a Sunday morning?

Our theme of asking ‘Why?” continues this week. 

So far our Lenten journey has taken us through “Why Faith?”, “Why Christianity?”, and “Why the Bible?”.

Now we ask,“Why Worship?”.

As we have unpacked these “why” questions in our Lenten study, we have examined why we have faith in something rather than in nothing. We looked at how the life, death and resurrection of Jesus offer a compelling experiment of God’s mercy and grace. We have seen the ways that Christ the Word is witnessed to in the pages of Scripture. 

On this fourth week we start to put some of these pieces together as we contemplate why we worship. 

As we have already explored, there are a whole lot of complicated reasons that bring us to church, but once we are here it isn’t always obvious to ask why we are doing this rather than that. Instead, we often default to “I like that rather than this” and congregations can fall into the dread worship wars. Strong lines of preference are drawn over music styles, worship times, service length, the frequency of communion and a host of other things that can be easy to fight about. 

But they aren’t matters of “why.” Why do we come together? Why do we sing and pray and hear the Bible together? Why is that stuff important to do together in a church building rather than alone or in some other place?

And if we are honest with ourselves and each other, a lot of people are asking why it is important to take the time every week to show up at all – and they are coming to the conclusion that it isn’t important. A big part of that might be because we don’t often talk about the “why” of worship, but operate with a system that says, “It just IS important and you should all know why!”

Back on that Sunday in seminary, I wanted to know why we were all sitting in the pews for this strange worship of which we were a part. People don’t generally sing, pray and read the Bible with other folks anywhere else in their world, did they? So why did we do it here?

I have been thinking about that question ever since. While I know that there are at least as many reasons as there are people in the pews, I think it has something to do with knowing that we simply cannot do faith alone. We cannot believe it, practice it, hear it, teach it, and pass it on alone. And so God brings us together, even if is strange. Especially because it is strange and we don’t do the stuff we do in worship just about anywhere else in our lives. 

If you want to really unpack this question, you will have to join us for Lenten study this week. But suffice it to say, after 15 years serving in parish ministry, I am starting to see that, despite all the weird things that we do as a part of worship, that God is up to even more incredible things with us. And that coming together for worship is one of the few ways we can begin to see and imagine what God is doing with us. 

Lent is for asking good questions

This is the fourth Lenten season of the Pandemic. It was during Lent that our first lockdowns began. Many people of faith remarked during that time that Lent never really ended in 2020. I think that remains true in 2023. 

Lent is a season for simplicity and paring back, for repentance and renewal. All the practices that make up Lent, giving things up or taking things on, are meant to be ways to disrupt our routines lived on autopilot, and make room for us to remember and reconsider our relationship with God and our call to discipleship 

One of the fundamental questions of Lent is “why?” Not only is this a question of Lent but a question of our time. 

As a new pastor in 2009 freshly out of seminary, I quickly realized that the “why” of church was often something we assumed but didn’t discuss. I realized that a big part of my role was going to be teaching people again (or maybe for the first time) why church matters. Life-long members, actively engaged folks, casual attenders and fringe members all the way to seekers and newcomers. It seemed that for many of the people I was serving then that it was assumed that we all knew why we should be at church, and that talking about it too much was a risky thing. 

I recall meeting with one family for baptism; the parents of the newborn were only a little older than I was. Grandma and Grandpa, who were strong active members of the congregation were insisting on the baptism, while the parents were hesitant. The mother said to me, “I haven’t been to church much lately. I stopped coming more because whenever I asked questions, I was told to stop questioning everything.”

I let that mother ask me any question she wanted about church, faith, the Bible and God. 

Asking questions, and specifically asking “Why?” is not only okay, it is important. A faith that cannot stand up to our questions is not truly faith at all but something more like a cult. A rich, deep and well-practiced faith is one where questions are essential, exploring “Why?” is the point. The church is one of the very few places in our world that has the capacity to address faith and the “why’s” of life, even when asked about the deepest parts of ourselves, our world and of God. 

This week as we start our Lenten study called “Why Church?”, we will take the time to lay out our questions and have conversations that have to do with anything we might be wondering, but that ultimately get to the heart of the matter. 

Asking “Why?” and taking the time to articulate “why” is so very important as we enter the Lenten wilderness and as we navigate the wildernesses of pandemic, declines, social change and change in our community and congregation. I invite you into this conversation and disciple this Lent. 

Let’s explore the questions together.

Getting from Transfiguration into Lent

On Valentine’s Day, I tried to order heart-shaped pizzas from Boston Pizza. I guess lots of other folks had that idea too, as their online ordering system crashed and no one would pick up the phone at our local BP. So we ordered from another place and from the time I left to get the pizza to about 12 minutes later when I left the pizza shop, the weather had gone from not snowing to a full-blown white out. 

I followed that up with a harrowing drive to Confirmation on the Perimeter Hwy (thanks for that suggestion Apple Maps GPS…).

It was all a potent reminder that even though our weather has been spring-like, winter is far from over in Manitoba.

In many ways Transfiguration Sunday, with its vivid story of Jesus going up the mountain with two disciples to be transformed into a divine figure surrounded by Moses and Elijah, is sort of like that spring-like time of mild weather in February –a respite. From Advent and Christmas through Lent and Easter, the pace of life in the church is busy and gets progressively heavier until Holy Week. 

Particularly, before we jump into the Lenten journey to Holy Week and the Cross, the Mount of Transfiguration offers a high-point vision that evokes the Risen Jesus and the Ascended Christ to come. 

The Transfiguration is an important hinge moment that holds Advent and Christmas together with Lent and Easter. It moves us from the story of the Incarnation and the Messiah being born into the world to Jesus’s work of Salvation and Resurrection. 

And yet, that mountaintop moment of Jesus’s Transfiguration is a tempting place to want to stay. Just like a mild winter without much snow to shovel is a thing we would love to be in full time, rather than a five-day respite from the cold and wind and snow. 

Similar to Peter, who wanted to build a dwelling on the mountain, we like the idea of a Church that looks and feels like the Transfiguration moment. The bright shining glory-filled moments feel good, safe and attractive. But it isn’t the norm. 

We know that the norm of faith and the day to day of life is a lot more like the journey of Lent – the wandering through the wilderness, the struggle to get from place to place, the uncertainty at where we will find ourselves at the end. Few days are spent on the mountaintop in life, but many are spent in the wilderness. This is true for communities of faith, for families and neighbourhoods, for nations and peoples. 

And while Jesus is TRANSFIGURED on the mountaintop, he was always the One who is revealed to be – he was always God come in the flesh. It is only his appearance that is changed this Sunday. 

In the process of faith, in the journey of Lent, through our time spent in communities of faith, we are TRANSFORMED. In the waters of baptism, through the hearing of the Gospel alongside our siblings in faith, through the Bread and Wine made Body and Blood, we are changed to our very core. Transformed from sinners into God’s beloved, made holy and righteous by the One who meets us with forgiveness and grace. 

The mountaintops feel great; they are respite for the moment. But it is along the way of faith that God is making us into new creations, into the people that we were first created to be in Christ. 

Do we still feel called to this? – Pastor Thoughts

I have been thinking a lot about call lately. 

As in, you know, being “Called” to ministry. 

For most pastors, deacons and bishops, the sense of call to ministry isn’t a one-and-done kind of thing. It isn’t like turning on a light switch, but more a constant state of wrestling and wondering. Asking oneself “Am I still called to do this?” is always part of the gig. 

In recent years more than ever, I have watched clergy do a lot of wondering. From friends and colleagues, to clergy bloggers and writers… a lot of us are wondering if our sense of calling is sustainable through all the challenges facing the church. A lot of people are deciding it isn’t, and they are leaving ordained ministry for other work. 

Certainly, in the past number of years I have had my own moments of wondering how my calling to serve continues to fit in with where the church is at. 

That being said, I might be one of the worst examples of Pastors to talk to about wrestling with being called. I used to joke in seminary that I was born into the “Norwegian Lutheran Pastors Breeding Program.”

My grandfather was a pastor. So was his brother. And his brother-in-law. His closest friends were also pastors. Growing up, “church” was something that my immediate and extended family was always involved in. And wherever we traveled there were usually some church or pastor or church folks that we knew.  

For me, going to seminary and becoming a pastor was a possibility that was known from an early age. From when I played pastor dressup as a two -year-old, to career shadowing my pastor in grade 9,  to serving on council when I was 18, to working at camp throughout my university years, and to attending campus ministry, I always knew that being a pastor was an option and one that I wanted to pursue. 

But my story is uncommon. Lots of those called to ministry take very different routes. Some need the right encouragement at the right time, or need to get connected and involved in a church community at the right moment to be opened up to the idea of ordained ministry. Some go to seminary just to learn more and end up pursuing ordination. Some only experience that call later in life after establishing a first career or other vocation. 

This week, Jesus calls Peter and Andrew from their fishing boats, and they immediately drop their nets and follow. If only it were so simple. 

Though we tend to talk about calling as it relates to pastors, we are NOT the only ones called by God to serve. The call to follow, the call to minister is a calling given to all the baptized. We are ALL called to follow Jesus into the service of the Kingdom of God. We are ALL called to do our part in making sure the Gospel is preached to the world around us. 

In many ways it is this sense of call that I wrestle with the most. Are there enough of us who feel this baptismal call to be church together? Do churches today have enough motivation to pursue this ministry of the Kingdom of God?

“Being Church” is harder than it has been in a long time. For a while now, we have been finding ways to keep doing what we have been doing with fewer resources, smaller budgets and fewer people. But we are getting to the point where that is almost too exhausting to continue. The time has come for us now to be creative in finding new ways to organize ourselves. We need to be willing to change and adapt, to work with others around us in ways we didn’t have to consider before. The alternative is that keeping on as we are or trying to bring back what we used to be will overwhelm our diminishing resources. The models of church that we are used to – a church on every street corner doing all the same things that the church on the next street corner is doing – don’t serve us well anymore. 

Do we hear God’s call to adapt and change to the new thing? Or are we more committed to holding on to what we once had? The answers to these questions are complicated. 

What does it mean for us to be called these days? And what does “following” look like? I have been circling around these questions since I was two years old… and my sense of the answers are as unclear to me as ever.

And yet in the strangest way, I think I might be as intrigued and excited to explore their answers as I have ever been. In all my time wrestling with being called and what it means to be called, the potential of what the future could be is as great as ever. People and congregations are open to new things in ways that felt unimaginable just a few years ago. God is calling us and we are being invited to explore what that means for us and how we might follow, even as where we are going and how we will get there is still being revealed to us. 

The time it takes to figure church out – Pastor Thoughts

“Come and See”

This last week’s Gospel lesson from John contains this phrase. While maybe it doesn’t jump out a first, there are some preachers and scholars out there who say that John is the Gospel of “Come and See.”

Other scholars have described it as “Word and Sign.” 

Both are shorthand ways of saying that in John’s Gospel there is a repeating pattern of Jesus inviting people (the disciples, crowds, the religious authorities) to believe that he is the Messiah (Word) and when they hesitate, Jesus reveals who he is with a miracle or other divine act (Sign). 

This dynamic plays out most clearly in the story of Lazarus. Jesus comes late to heal Lazarus and so Lazarus’ sister Mary meets Jesus on the road. When she points out that Jesus could have done something to prevent Lazarus’ death, Jesus reminds her that HE is the resurrection and the life (Word). But then when they get to the tomb, Mary objects to the stone being rolled away because there will be a smell (hesitation). But Jesus commands it anyway, and out walks Lazarus (Sign). 

“Come and See” is the phrase that describes that invitation between the Word and the Sign, the invitation given just at the moment when we might be hesitating to believe that Jesus is who he says he is. 

This pattern that John lifts up is a way to make the Gospel all the more compelling. John recognizes that most of the people who come after him won’t be able to watch Jesus in action the way the disciples and crowds did. But if we can see ourselves in their hesitation then maybe we will see that the only necessary part is the Word. We will hear the Good News and come to faith. John basically says this at the end of his Gospel. 

While I think one of the challenges to faith in a world confident that science and technology will save us, is precisely the lack of “signs.” I also think that this dynamic of “Come and See” is a part of our lives and communities as Christians and as people of faith. 

It is just that the signs might not be what we expect. We are probably not going to head over to the local cemetery and see someone hop out of a casket.

But in our communities of faith we DO see people who are healed and brought to new life all the time. People who are dead in loneliness or isolation, people who are broken by fractured family relationships, people who have suffered illness and disease, who, by being a part of church communities, find hope and life and peace. 

We see people who hear the “Gospel Word” and are transformed into new creations. Who are so captured by the good news of Jesus’ love for them that it changes them to the core. 

In the past few months, I have been watching one such transformation in my own family. My son, who is 8, has been attending church almost weekly his whole life (pandemic lockdowns not withstanding). And of course he was a baby, a toddler, or little kid for a lot of that time. This past fall, he has begun telling me that he likes my sermons, not every week, but once in a while. I have asked him what he likes, and he has been able to tell me very accurately what my sermon for a particular Sunday was about. And over the Christmas season, I had the opportunity to sit with him in the pew for a few services. Together we found the hymns in hymnbooks and I taught him how to follow the verses of hymns. We followed the litany and psalm together, learning which lines were for us to say. We talked about the different parts of worship, as in when to stand (when we sing, pray and hear the Gospel) and when we sit (all other times). He often will sing liturgical songs at home (“This is feast!”) or repeat other liturgical responses at home. 

It only took him eight and a half years of attending church for it to take (especially since learning to read in the last two years). And, all of a sudden, worship and church and being together with all the people he knows at church (two churches!) have imparted to him that faith is important, that what God has to say to him and about his world and life is important, and that worshipping in community is important. 

“Come and See” is an invitation to witness how the Word of God is doing incredible things in our world and in our lives. Maybe as we start this New Year together, 2023 will be a year to “Come and See.’