Tag Archives: ministry

Doctor of Ministry, Pastor Thoughts, Theology & Culture

The ministry we are all called to

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This week, the disciples have gone fishing. It feels like an interesting choice following the events of Good Friday and Easter. Yet, even in their attempt to go back to what they know, to the lives they lived before Jesus came and called them from their fishing boats, Jesus comes strolling down the shoreline again. There, he cooks them a meal of fish for breakfast. 

Following the meal, Jesus shares a conversation with Peter. He asks Peter if he loves him. Three times. This well-known story from the Gospel of John is a gospel reading often used at ordinations, the services where deacons, pastors and bishops are set apart for the ministries to which they are called. 

As I have shared before, the topic of my doctoral research thesis is the Lutheran Office of Ministry. Or in other words, the understanding that Lutherans share of how clergy or ordained ministers go about their work. As I hear this gospel lesson about Jesus’ meeting with confused disciples, uncertain of what to do next, I cannot help but think about the work of pastors and other clergy. 

Often, it can seem like pastors are the only ones “called” to ministry in the church. Or at least we talk and act like that is the case. But as you know, I am fond of repeating, our calling is firstly a baptismal calling⎯one we all share. 

Still, it’s easy to think that the only person doing ministry is the pastor. I believe this perspective on ministry stems from an unavoidable reality that pastors and clergy are often working at the heart of the ministry of a congregation or faith community. Pastors are tasked with preaching the Word and administering the Sacraments. Pastors bear responsibility for the care of the community of faith. 

When Jesus looks at Peter and asks, “Peter, do you love me?”,

Peter responds, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”

Then Jesus says, “Feed my sheep.”

Jesus is calling Peter to ministry. Yet, it doesn’t mean that this is a task just for clergy. 

Ministry happens in congregations and faith communities. Ministry happens relationally. Ministry doesn’t take place with one person or another, but rather happens in the space in between. The space in between the pastor and the congregation is the place of ministry. We physically represent this in worship with Word and Sacrament. The Word becomes Gospel as it is announced from the pulpit and into waiting ears in the pews. The Holy Spirit meets the newly baptized as the waters fall from the hands of the presider onto the head of the baptized. The Body of Christ joins us to itself and each other as bread and wine are passed from communion server to communicant. 

Ministry, the work of the gospel, happens between us. And I think that is why Jesus tells Peter to feed his sheep three times. Jesus is reminding us that it isn’t about Peter and it isn’t about the sheep. It is about the Bread of New Life that feeds us with the Gospel. 

Pastor Thoughts, Theology & Culture

The Collision of Holy Week

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The first Palm Sunday I can remember I was six or seven. A Sunday school teacher shoved a palm branch into my hands and told me to be happy; we were going to welcome Jesus. The Sunday school and adult choir paraded into the sanctuary singing a happy song as the congregation watched. I remember not being sure what was going on. But I knew that happy people were laying down their coats and palm branches to make a welcome mat for Jesus, who was parading into town. 

Palm Sunday is an odd event seen through this lens. Why is there a party for Jesus at the end of Lent and before Maundy Thursday and Good Friday? And it is not just my home congregation that bought into the party idea. The celebratory emphasis of Palm Sunday is a theme that can be seen in artwork, music and many passion plays throughout history. 

But Palm Sunday wasn’t a party or celebration, not really. Jesus’ ride into Jerusalem was something else. 

This year, many congregations in the United States are including protest signs in their Palm Sunday processions, as a way to protest their current government. Seeing Palm Sunday as a protest is probably closer to what the moment represented, but not quite. 

Processions are important social symbols in our world as they were 2000 years ago. We might not think about it much, but processions occur in a lot of places. A celebratory parade is an obvious one. But processions occur also at weddings, funerals, graduations, political and state ceremonies, military ceremonies, and in religious practice. Though it is understated, our worship begins with a procession and ends with a recession every week. From a practical standpoint, it is a matter of getting the people who have a role to play in worship into and out of the space. But, symbolically, processions draw attention and focus. They help to communicate that something important is about to happen.

This is what the procession of the triumphal entry was about. In the gospels, prior to the triumphal entry, much of Jesus’ ministry resulted in conflict with the religious authorities, the political authorities and the demonic authorities⎯the Kingdoms of Religion, Politics and Satan. The purpose of Jesus’ ride into Jerusalem was to draw attention and focus to the in-breaking of the Kingdom of God.

Palm Sunday is the event where the Holy Messiah, God-In-Flesh, arrives to meet human centres of power.  The Temple at the heart of Jerusalem was the symbol of power for the Kingdoms of Religion, Power, and Satan⎯the Kingdoms opposed to the Kingdom of God. The crowds shouting “Hosanna!” believed that Jesus was coming as a conquering king⎯more like that scene from the movie Gladiator where Caesar rides into Rome as a war hero or like the Allied troops marching into a liberated Holland in World War II. The conflicts in both cases were not resolved, but only beginning. 

At the end of the triumphal entry, Jesus presents himself at the temple, preaching and teaching that God’s Kingdom had arrived, calling humanity to repent and to return to God. In that moment, the response to Jesus’ arrival was silence. 

On Palm Sunday, the kingdoms at odds had yet to collide. That collision comes later in the week, during the Great Three Days from Maundy Thursday to Easter morning. 

Pastor Thoughts, Sermon, Theology & Culture

Why do we have to be this way – the Tension of Lent

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Our Lenten journey hasn’t been easy this year. The themes we have explored have ranged from the clash of kingdoms to human unwillingness to receive in the incarnate Christ, to our anxieties over the judgement of our sinfulness, to the loving father whose sons were lost in worlds of their senses of entitlement. 

This fifth Sunday presents us with the story of Mary, the sister to Martha and Lazarus. As Jesus eats a meal with friends, she anoints his feet with expensive perfume, an act of extravagant love in preparation for Jesus’ burial which is being foreshadowed in the moment. 

Yet, Judas objects to such a waste of perfume, pointing out that the money could have been used to feed the poor. 

We have all been present for these kinds of moments. Something beautiful, tender and loving is ruined because someone cannot handle the depth of emotion, or so it seems. 

It makes me wonder how two people can see the same event and moment in time with such diametrically opposed perspectives about what is going on. One person sees a beautiful act of love and another person sees a wasteful overindulgence. 

This question is relevant to our moment in history. As Canada faces an election, and our longtime national neighbour to the south, the United States, pursues aggressive trade tactics, it boggles the mind how we can be so divided on how we perceive the leaders running for election and those enacting ruinous financial policies on the whole world. 

One side looks at a particular leader and sees a vile, destructive, untrustworthy person, while the other side sees a champion and protector. How can we look at the same things and see them so dramatically differently?

How can one person see a hero in someone when another person looking at the same individual sees only a villain?

As human beings, we have to live with one another while, at the same time, we represent an impossibly diverse spectrum of opinions and tastes. 

Judas is right⎯using the money for the perfume could feed many people. Mary is also right⎯the act of love is for Jesus who is on his way to Jerusalem and Good Friday. But cannot Judas also see the loving beauty in this sacrifice of perfume? But cannot Mary see that she is being extravagant and indulgent?

These final weeks in Lent leave us in much the same situation as the previous weeks. The Kingdom of God and the Kingdom of Satan remain in conflict. God’s people continue to be unwilling. The unproducing fig tree’s fate remains unknown if only delayed a year. The prodigal son and his older brother haven’t yet been transformed by their father’s love. 

Judas sees only money being poured onto the floor and down the drain; Mary sees only the end coming for her much-beloved friend.

Maybe that state of tension and uncertainty is the point. Maybe that is where human life is lived, in the tension between creatures that cannot see through each other’s eyes. 

Yet, somehow in that unresolved tension between us, Jesus comes and stakes his cross into the ground, into our hard hearts… and there God’s love is revealed. There, while we cannot see each other, it is revealed that God sees and understands us. 

Doctor of Ministry, Pastor Thoughts, Sermon, Theology & Culture

The conflict at the heart of the Lenten Wilderness

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Our Lenten wilderness continues to stretch out before us. With questions of when we might find stable footing in all the uncertainty around us, we were reminded last week that God’s claim on us in Baptism is something that we can cling to. 

This week we hear how Jesus goes from his own wilderness to the towns and villages of Galilee, where the Pharisees confront him about the treachery of Herod. In hearing this warning, Jesus laments for Jerusalem and all the ways in which the powers and authorities of this world stand in the way of the work of God. 

About a year ago, I was doing a deep dive (class paper) into the Gospel of Mark, looking at how the oldest Gospel treats conflict. In doing that work, I learned that we cannot read the Gospels without seeing the conflict that is at the core of our existence as human beings. 

The Kingdom of God coming into the world as proclaimed by Jesus in the Gospels isn’t just about a kingdom coming to claim empty uncontested territory. The Kingdom of God coming into the world means that the other powers of this world⎯King Herod, the Romans, the religious authorities in the Gospels⎯are confronted and contested. It also means that the Kingdom of God entering into our world contests and confronts the powers here, too⎯political powers, authoritarians, injustice and inequality, all those who would seek to harm God’s creation. 

By Holy Week, we will be reminded that Jesus’ power isn’t one of armies and soldiers, violence and coercion. Yet, the confrontation is the same. The Kingdom of God is at work undoing the ways we use power, violence and force to control and harm one another. How and where God is doing this will be topics for reflection later in Lent. But that “conflict” is at the core of our very being and speaks to our experiences in this world. Conflict isn’t something we can compartmentalize, put into a box and set aside. It is always lurking in the background of relationships and communities. Conflict is often behind our suffering, our failure and selfishness, our desire to be different and our inability to enact the changes needed in our lives, our relationships and our world. 

As Christians, we recognize this reality within us. This involves a wrestling between the old sinner within us and God’s work of shaping and moulding us into new creations. We also recognize this reality in the world around us. In fact, it might be the best way to explain both the brokenness and the beauty we see in the world. Our capacity to love and care for each other is only matched by our capacity to harm and destroy. Our very existence is marked by contested kingdoms fighting over us. The powers and principalities of sin, death and the devil push against the encroaching Kingdom of God that is working to claim us as God’s own. 

This can be a difficult experience to reconcile and to accept. Yet, when we take an honest assessment of our world, it is the only explanation that makes sense. And it is what we are called to remember this Lenten season on our way with Jesus through the wilderness. 

Doctor of Ministry, Pastor Thoughts, Theology & Culture

The Forefront of the Kingdom of God

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I certainly don’t keep it a secret that I am a big Edmonton Oilers fan. I try to watch most games; it is my escape from the burdens and trials of the world. However, this week, one of my favourite players, Connor McDavid, finally got the chance to wear a Team Canada sweater. It is an interesting moment to watch the NHL Four Nations Face-Off. Hockey has a way of bringing Canadians together and making them feel some national pride. 

Interestingly, another force has brought Canadians together into a feeling of national unity at the same time. President Donald Trump’s desire to unite a nation was probably not to unite Canada against him, but here we are. 

Aside from hockey, we are in a moment in time where we are being forced to consider what kind of world we want to live in. Or perhaps, consider the kind of world that self-interested billionaires who have taken control of the US want us to live in – even as Canadians. 

These past few weeks, we have considered Martin Luther’s doctrine of Two Kingdoms, reminding us of the role of the church and civil authorities. We have looked at which Lord we are accountable to and who we are accountable for. Most recently, we pondered what it means to be called as the priesthood of the baptized. 

This week, we ponder how Jesus begins preaching the Sermon on the Mount – the beatitudes that begin, “Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the Kingdom of God.”

These blessings, which can come across as upside-down blessings, are not a prescription for holy living. Jesus is not suggesting a new kind of pathway to righteousness through poverty, hunger, thirst and grief. 

The Sermon on the Mount is something altogether different. It is a vision for the Kingdom of God. A vision for the world as imagined by the one who created all things. It is a vision that challenges our normal modes of operation, our assumptions about might making right, about wealth and power being blessings. It is a vision for the Kingdom that considers the least, lost and forsaken. A vision of God’s Kingdom where all are cared for, that those on the margin and bottom are a part of God’s blessing. 

Perhaps most importantly, though, it is a reminder of where that vision for the world comes into being. God’s vision doesn’t happen in the halls of power; it isn’t broadcast on TV, nor is it articulated by the rulers of this world – neither the ones we agree with nor the ones we detest. 

God’s vision of a blessed world happens in the small and local places, in communities like ours where the poor, hungry, and weeping can be known up close. God’s Kingdom isn’t defined by its borders and walls, but by its being nearer to the reality of human life, by its nearness to our life in community. The forefront of the Kingdom is right where we live day to day, whether we gather for worship week after week, in the eyes and our loved ones and neighbours, in the nearness of the people whose lived reality meets our lived reality regularly. 

These are days when it is easy to feel national pride because of hockey or real threats to our collective way of life. But the Kingdom to which God invites us to belong, meets us here and now, calling us blessed, and showing us the closeness of God’s love for us and this community around us.