5 Reasons Female Pastors Are Awesome

"Sometimes the best man for the job is a woman."

Too often, we women sell ourselves short. Whether we're pastors or in other professions, we spend too much time observing what men do that makes them successful and then trying to emulate them. But we women have our ways--and I think our ways can actually work pretty well for us! Thus, this post.

Right up front, I should let you know that I'm not going to make any biblical case for the validity of female pastors. Others have done that more thoroughly than I am able. Ben Witherington wrote a great article here. One of my own professors, Joseph Coleson, wrote a book available in its entirety online here. Nazarene Seminary President Carla Sunberg co-authored an excellent book about the role of women in the church, available for purchase here. There are many more excellent resources exploring biblical and traditional understandings of women in ministry.

Phew. Now I can tell you my five reasons that female pastors are awesome!

1. We can be friends! When I was debating about pursuing a call to ministry, I had a conversation with a friend from my church. I remember it vividly. We were riding a ski lift up to the continental divide, and I was going to snowboard my first black diamond. An odd time to have a conversation about female pastors? Yes. But my friend wanted to share his concerns, and we had some time (it's a long way up to the continental divide). He said, "I've always been friends with my pastor. But if my pastor was a woman, I couldn't be friends with her. I would really miss that!"

A great place for important conversations

I neglected to point out to him that he and I were riding a ski lift together while his wife skied the more tame slopes below. I wasn't sure what about my becoming a pastor would suddenly cast me off that ski lift with him. I think it may be possible for men and women to at least have fairly serious conversations from time to time without becoming best friends and developing an inappropriate relationship.

However.

If men and women cannot be friends, then guess what--statistically, almost every church has more women than men. Now all those women finally get a chance to be friends with their pastor! They can casually call up their pastor to ask about a verse or a question of theology. Or they can call up their pastor to get a cup of coffee or go shopping together. They can talk to their pastor about the things in their lives that have been uniquely important to them as women--wondering if they will ever find a husband, finding their identity as single women, redefining their identity as Mrs. ___, having children, raising children, doing the bulk of the household chores, planning meals, running a household. 

(I don't want to dismiss the role of men in these aspects of life, but this is where a lot of women live. I wrote a blog here about the centrality of the mundane in women's lives around the world.) 

These big and small concerns that consume their thoughts a good amount of the time are shared by their pastor. 

With a female pastor, the other half gets a chance now to be friends with their pastor.

2. Women's work is God's work. In Matthew 25, Jesus tells the parable of the sheep and the goats. The sheep and the goats are separated by what they did or did not do. Those deeds all fall under the category of what we would probably now call "compassionate ministry"--hospitality, visiting the sick, providing food, drink, and clothing for those in need, and visiting those in prison.

In many churches, women oversee these ministries. If someone is in the hospital, women organize meals for the family. Women prepare their houses for guests who come to visit. Women also work to make the church a hospitable place through decoration and coordinating potluck meals. Women organize clothing drives and other donation-based ministries. Different churches do more or less of these tasks and in different ways, but especially in the days when many women did not work outside the home, women's groups performed this segment of the church's work.

A hospitable table

I don't want to downplay the study of Scripture and the tasks of reading and writing in preparing a weekly sermon or the behind-the-scenes administrative tasks required of many pastors. But I fear that a disconnect has developed between the tasks traditionally done by women and the theology informing the message from the pulpit. 

I see churches today who preach hospitality but cannot coordinate a potluck with enough food for everyone to eat. Churches who advocate caring for those in need but don't have the network of communication to actually know when someone is in need. Churches who want to help those in need in their community but can't gather the manpower (or womanpower) to gather, sort and distribute resources. 

A female pastor who has participated in "woman's work" may have a greater ability to value the compassionate ministries of the church and also to let those works inform the Sunday sermon and the overall life of the church, rather than downplaying that work as "less important" and an appropriate task for "the weaker sex."

3. Women can find their voice. Two quotes:

“Paulo Freire believes that for human beings the essential decision is between speaking or remaining embedded in a culture of silence, between naming ourselves or being named by others, between remaining an object or becoming a subject. The heart of his vision is that every human being has an ontological vocation to be a subject, namely, someone who can separate from the world in his or her own consciousness, be critical of it, act on it, and transform it—in the process making the world a subject too.” – Maria Harris 

"Accustomed to hearing the preacher speak to them and about them, women traditionally have not been encouraged to discover that they have voices of their own and distinctive experiences to contribute to their communities." – Mary Farrell Bednarowski

 When the person at the pulpit is a woman, giving voice to the experience of women, it gives other women an opportunity to find their voice. In a world where domestic violence, human trafficking, and even income inequality disproportionately effect women, the church that gives female victims of these injustices a voice can become a powerful force for justice. A female pastor who speaks can communicate that this is a place where anyone can speak--even if they are saying something difficult or uncomfortable.

A female pastor also communicates to young women that they can expect to have a voice in their chosen profession, that they can speak to a room full of men and women--whether a sanctuary or a corporate board room.

4. The biblical world did not distinguish between working in the home and working outside the home. There is a marked distinction in our culture between those who leave their home and go to their workplace and those who do not leave their home. Working from home is becoming more and more popular, but the distinction is still very present in our cultural framework. 

Gardening can yield some great results!

Such a distinction did not exist in the biblical world. 

Men worked in the fields. They worked at trades and sold their goods or worked for others. Women did all of these things too. They worked in fields or gardens. They worked at trades. Men and women worked together to provide all the necessities of a household and to build wealth. 

The stereotypical "desperate housewife" did not exist--women who spend their days shopping and going to spas, going through her husband's income as fast as he can earn it. (Although the prophet Ezekiel might disagree with that.)

The parables of Jesus are pretty far removed from the cubicle life. 

"A sower went out to sow..."

"The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed..."

"The kingdom of heaven is like yeast..."

"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field..."

"The kingdom of heaven is like a net that was let down into a lake..."

I recognize that I'm making sweeping generalizations here. Many women work in cubicles. Many men do not. I'm just going to borrow from the 1950s sitcom stereotypes for the sake of simplicity. When men leave in the morning, go to work, come home, put their feet up, wait for dinner, and then watch tv until bedtime, they will never experience any of these things: sowing seed, mixing yeast into dough, finding treasure in a field, catching fish. 

The tasks now seen as women's work may actually enable women to more easily identify with many of the biblical stories.

And many, many other biblical passages are far outside the realm of experience of either men or women in today's culture, but women's tendency to listen to each other's stories may enable them to more easily listen to the biblical stories. 

I don't want to say that men can't identify with the Bible, that men can't listen to the experiences of others and enter into them emotionally and spiritually, or that most men live lives like the men in a 1950s sitcom. However, as I said at the beginning, we women sell ourselves short when we don't recognize that we bring something important and unique to the table!

5. Women have spaghetti brains. I love this video where Mark Gungor describes men's brains and women's brains. In short, men's brains are like waffles. They have boxes for each category, and the boxes do not touch. Women's brains, on the other hand, are like spaghetti--everything touches. One subject leads to the next in seemingly random ways, we can go from laughing to crying and back in seconds. 

Spaghetti brain in action!

In the days when every good sermon was a three-point expository sermon with a clear, linear structure, waffle brains served all those male pastors well. But have you watched popular tv shows lately? Or music videos? They are all over the place! From one point in time to another, from one scene to another. (Check out this music video by the band Fun. as a great example of the craziness of popular media.) There is a sequence, but it's all over the place. Everything's related and connected.

I struggled at times as a seminary student because I would ask questions that my male professors thought were completely irrelevant, but in my spaghetti brain, they were connected! This kind of brain is great, though, for writing sermons. I can go from scripture text to story to music clip to literature and back to scripture because it's all connected in my head. A lot of men do that very well, too, but I think we women might be ahead, waiting for the men to catch up!

What do you think? Female pastors, have you discovered yourself in possession of traditionally female character traits that serve you well? Members of congregations with a female pastor, have you found new and different ways to interact with your pastor? And the rest of you, do you agree, disagree, want to go out and find a female pastor for yourself?

Keep Your Eyes Open

"I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness because it shows me the stars." - Og Mandino

As a pastor, I get paid to say things that are both profound and interesting every week. Of course, I have the living, active Word of God to draw from, but there is an expectation that I add some of my own words to that--some of my own interpretation, some of my experience, some of my appreciation for those God-breathed words.

Every week when I think about that expectation, I panic. Every week I think that there is no more to say. Every week I fear that this good news has ceased to be either good or news.

At first that terrified me. I had images of standing at a pulpit in front of a congregation watching them watching me. 

This actually did happen briefly one Sunday. Someone forgot to put the collection plates at the front of the church, and I stood with the microphone in my hand and waited while they were retrieved. There was no music, no one said anything. I just looked at them and they looked at me, and we all waited together. 

But that silence was short-lived.

The silence I fear is bigger than that. 

Every week I read the text for Sunday, and I begin to think about it. I think about the characters in the story. I think about God's actions. And I start to wonder how an ancient God dealing with ancient people could possibly be relevant to my life. To anyone's life.

And then I begin to descend into darkness. I get hopeless and discouraged. Does anything I do matter? Is anything I say heard?

Now, I know this isn't rational. I know that my emotions are driving me downward.

But it's where I live.

Then, a few months ago, I started reading Anne Lamott's journal of her son's first year of life, Operating Instructions.

In Anne Lamott, I found a companion in the darkness. She loved her son, of course, but there were days when she fell apart. There were days when she couldn't bear to hear him cry for one more second. There were days when she felt hopeless. 

As I read her words, I began to realize the power of looking into the darkness. It's tempting to close my eyes. It's tempting to preach joy, peace, and victory from a safe distance. It's tempting to preach words that sound good and nice and make everyone wish they could be that kind of Christian. But we all have places of darkness in our lives, and what good is a pastor whose words only make sense in the light? What good is a church that refuses to acknowledge the presence of the darkness?

I don't fear the darkness anymore because I know it comes and goes, and when it comes it is a gift. Then I can experience it and describe it so that those who hear my voice know they are not alone in their darkness. When it goes, I give thanks for the light. I give thanks for peace and joy. But I know the darkness will come back again, and I will be waiting to meet it.

I believe that one of the most powerful messages Christianity can speak to the world is that there truly is darkness. It is okay to grieve loss and pain. It is okay to ache with loneliness and heartbreak. It is okay to look at this world and feel hopeless, to feel the impossible weight of sin and death. It is okay be crucified by the powers and principalities. It is okay to feel like death buried in a tomb.

Because "The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it."

We need not fear the darkness because we have seen the light.

Every week, my task is to keep my eyes open, to look straight into the darkness and to discern the light always emanating upward and outward.

That is what I must speak every week. I must give voice to the darkness. I must speak words that let those walking in the valley of the shadow of death know that they do not walk alone.

And then I must allow the light to shine in that darkness. The light of the Gospel, the light of the good news, the best news.

I especially want to share this with anyone growing weary of preaching. Do not be afraid of the darkness. Look into it and share what you see. And then go looking for the light that still shines even on the darkest of nights. As pastors, this is the task before us: to keep our eyes open.

Keep your eyes open!

Needtobreathe - Keep Your Eyes Open

Five Things that Pastors Can Learn from Jimmy Fallon

"In art the self becomes self-forgetful in order to meet the demands of the thing seen and the thing being made." - Flannery O'Connor

In my last post, I wrote about the pastor as tour guide. I'd like to offer another paradigm for pastors. The pastor as talk show host.

I've heard over and over that in our culture, it's impossible to hold the attention of listeners by just talking. We need multimedia. We need music and drama. We need action and interaction.

Talk show hosts, however, still hold the attention of their audiences mostly by talking. They often have music and, of course, commercials. But Jimmy Fallon still holds my attention with words.

What can pastors learn from him?

1. Ask the right questions. What would Morgan Freeman sound like if he sucked helium out of a balloon?

Can we hear Billy Joel sing?

Is Kevin Spacey any good at impressions?

Those are three of my favorite clips. As a pastor, I think about this question when I'm reading the text for Sunday. What does the congregation want me to ask of the text? We're going through 1 and 2 Samuel right now. So, I might ask, why is David such a big deal? What was wrong with Saul? On Wednesday nights, we're studying 1 John. If John was in our church today, what would we ask him? What questions would we bring to him? How might he respond to those questions? Approaching the text this way has given me fresh eyes to ask different questions. If the authors of these biblical texts were sitting on a stool next to me in front of the congregation, what would we all want to ask them?

Now, one thing about all of these interviews. I'm sure that Morgan Freeman, Billy Joel, and Kevin Spacey knew what was coming. Jimmy Fallon did his research. He knew what they were bringing to the table. This wasn't a shot in the dark. He didn't just say, "I don't really know much about you. What would you like to tell us about yourself?" It's our responsibility as pastors to do the research to know that 1 John has a lot to say about love. This is a big deal to him. 1 and 2 Samuel have a lot to say about God's mission for his people. We should make sure we give space for the text to share its passions. A good interviewer makes the interviewee look good and allows space for him or her to shine. Asking the right questions means doing research and getting to know the interviewee ahead of time.

2. Participate as an audience member. I've read in other places about Jimmy Fallon's joy. (Check out this article from Christianity Today.) He obviously has a good time doing his show. His willingness to laugh at the silly stuff that happens invites the audience in as co-participants. He feels like one of us, laughing at Kevin Spacey's impressions, loving Billy Joel's singing. He isn't aloof and distant, immune to the emotions that the rest of us feel. His joy is contagious.

When I was pregnant and preaching, I cried all the time, and I hated it, but my husband told me over and over that it's okay to cry. I discovered that he was right. It's okay to read Exodus 1 where Pharaoh ordered that all the Hebrew boys must be thrown into the Nile and cry at the horror of their loss and heartbreak.  It's okay to read Exodus 15 where Moses and Miriam sang after the miraculous parting of the Red Sea and be overcome by joy and relief at the Israelites' narrow escape from Pharaoh's army. Sometimes we've read these stories so many times that we forget to feel the impact of them. But if we are not receiving the text right along with our listeners, we are missing out. We're missing out on the chance to hear God speak to us, and we're missing out on joining in with the community that we are a part of to hear these crazy stories and be amazed.

3. Don't be afraid to look dumb. Jimmy Fallon is incredibly talented. He's hilarious. He can sing. He can do impressions. He's tall. He could easily coast on what he can do well. But there's one thing he cannot do: throw--a football, a subway sandwich, a bowl of chip dip--whatever.

Check out this video of Blake Shelton and Jimmy Fallon going head to head:

As pastors, it's tempting to stick with what's comfortable, what we can do well. We're good at studying, reading, writing, talking, presenting, praying, maybe singing. Too often we build our church programming around the things that we do well. But if we expect other people to participate in our program, we need to be willing to do things that we're not good at. If we like to plan, maybe we need to be spontaneous. If we like to be spontaneous, maybe we need to plan. If we like to talk, maybe we need to listen. If we like to be in control, maybe we need to allow space for the unexpected. And maybe, we'll look dumb when we're doing things we're not very good at, but maybe others will feel a little bit more willing to try something they aren't as comfortable with--like praying out loud or giving a testimony--and the whole body will benefit.


4. Invite participation. One of my favorite segments on Jimmy Fallon is his hashtags. He announces a topic and invites people to share their responses. He reads the best ones on the show. This is a new thing. Talk show hosts used to pay professionals to write their jokes. They still do, of course, but now they recognize that normal people are funny too. Here's a clip of #MyWeirdFriend:

Especially as a young pastor, I need to remember that the people in my congregation have a lot to offer. Many of them have been reading the Bible for a lot longer than I have. They have life experiences I don't have. They have wisdom and insight into life situations and into the biblical texts from their reading and experience. I need to find ways to allow the members of the congregation to share their wisdom, knowledge, and experience. Jimmy Fallon has a lot more viewers and a lot more participants to filter through, and it limits the amount his audience can participate, but in a small church, I can look for all kinds of creative ways to create space where we can hear and learn from each other.

5. It's not about me. I don't know Jimmy Fallon personally, but I would guess that his focus is not on doing whatever he can to make himself look good, but on making a great show night after night. Sometimes, he probably doesn't feel like doing another interview or comedy bit. He probably has interviews that go poorly that he wishes he could just bail out on halfway through. He probably even interviews people that he doesn't really want to. But his hard work and dedication pay off every time he makes a great show.

As Flannery O'Connor wrote, art is self-forgetful. Good preaching is art. A well-crafted sermon is not about making the pastor look good; it's about proclaiming the gospel. It's about getting out of the way and letting the Word of God shine. A well-crafted sermon points the listeners to God, to the beauty of his Word, and to the magnificence of the Gospel message. Now, Jimmy Fallon is a huge star. Maybe for him, it's not entirely about the art. But I probably never will be a huge star, and that's even better. It just gives me more opportunity to forget about myself and let the Gospel take center stage.

"'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." - Paul

Tuesday Afternoon Thoughts: Pastor as Tour Guide

"I have found out that there ain't no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them." - Mark Twain

Can you believe these country kids went to New York City??

When I was a kid, my family took a trip to New York City. One of my favorite parts of our trip was the bus tour we took around the city. I remember two landmarks: Katherine Hepburn's apartment and the only grocery store in all of Manhattan with a parking lot. I'm sure the tour guide pointed out lots of other noteworthy places along the way, but those two stood out to me because I never would have noticed them otherwise. Katherine Hepburn's apartment looked just like the others around it. And that grocery store looked just like any other midwestern grocery store. The tour guide helped us see the city with new eyes.

We just returned home from a three-day pastor retreat, and while we were there, I had some time to think about some ways of understanding the pastoral role. One image came to mind that I thought I might take some time to develop further: the pastor as tour guide.


1. Tour guides aren't responsible for creating landmarks. 
It's easy to fall into the trap that my job as pastor is to create a "worship experience" and to think that if life-altering moments aren't happening in our services, it's my fault. But I've seen God work in my life and in the lives of those around me in LOTS of different ways. Whenever I start to get anxious about preaching bad sermons, one of my friends is fond of reminding me that she can't remember a single sermon she's ever heard. She still felt called to be a missionary. My job isn't to create landmarks in the lives of the people in my congregation. That's up to God.

2. Tour guides do know the names of landmarks. 
I grew up in the church, and one of the things that saddens me the most is the sense of inadequacy that so many people feel. I saw godly men and women who cared for me and my peers, who prayed for us, taught our Sunday School classes, let us stay up all night at their houses, rode roller coasters with us, and listened to us complain endlessly about each other. From these same godly men and women, I sense sadness and loneliness, a feeling of failure, a desire to serve God more fully but doubt as to whether they can succeed. Tour guides don't create landmarks, but they point them out. I want to point out the miracle of that investment in our lives, of loving one person, of forgiveness, grace and mercy, of compassion and empathy, of casseroles and sympathy cards, of a sincere musical performance by a nervous teenager, and the loving applause that inevitably follows. I want to name these landmarks, to point them out and stop the bus so we can all appreciate God's hand at work.

3. Tour guides are not celebrities.
Nobody wants to see the home of a tour guide or the restaurant where they drink their coffee every morning. Tourists want to see Katherine Hepburn's apartment and the hospital where Princess Kate had her baby. One of my seminary professors was fond of saying that there are a lot of dyslexic pastors nowadays; they talk more about their D-O-G than their G-O-D. Now that I'm a pastor I know why. It's not always easy to think of something to say every week, and a good anecdote can take up a decent chunk of time! But my job as a pastor is always to direct those who listen to me back to the real celebrities--the apostles and prophets, the saints who have come before us, Jesus, himself. If I get caught up in my own stories and anecdotes, the tour loses its value.

4. Tour guides listen to the experts.
This didn't happen on our New York City tour, but if there happened to be someone on board who had lived in a certain part of the city for thirty years, I would hope the tour guide would hand over the microphone. It's interesting to hear about the famous people who have lived in a place, but it's even better to hear from people who knew them. It's tempting as a young pastor to think that I'm some kind of expert. But most of the people in my congregation have been serving God for much longer than I have. I would be a fool not to draw on their wisdom and experience.

5. The tour guide rides the bus too.
Fortunately, we didn't have any incidents on our tour, but if our bus would have been in an accident or somehow gotten swept away by a flood or some other crazy natural disaster, the guide would have been in for whatever happened right alongside the rest of us. Again, it's easy to think that my life is separate from the life of my congregation. If economic disaster strikes our area, I can pick up and move on. If our church falls apart or splits, I can simply walk away. I can conduct funerals and weddings as an objective outsider. After all, I won't be going in the ground or to the honeymoon suite! But the church is God's church. I'm along for the ride every bit as much as any other member of the congregation. We're all called to respond to whatever happens, good or bad, in faithful obedience to God.

We could have used a tour guide for this trip.
This was supposed to be a waterfall!

6. The tour guide better know the area.
A good tour guide can recite facts and anecdotes, remembers names and dates, and can answer questions. That doesn't happen naturally. It takes intentional study. I have a responsibility to prepare for every sermon. I have a responsibility to keep learning more. I can't coast along on what I already know. There is always more to learn, as well as the need to keep reviewing what I already know. Which brings me to the last similarity:

7. Tour guides make the same trip over and over.
My husband told me that every pastor preaches three sermons. At first, I was sure that I would be different, that I would preach something new every week. After two weeks, I realized I was out of material. But that's not such a bad thing. I just need to make sure my three sermons are worth hearing! I've been reading 1 John. Do you know how much that book talks about love? It's like he only had one sermon! Maybe two--God loves us, we love others. If I'm going to be in this for the long haul, I need to find joy in visiting the same landmarks over and over--grace, forgiveness, healing, mercy, compassion, the kingdom of God. It's my job to name those landmarks every time we drive past them, to remind all those on the journey with me of their location. And sometimes, I need the people on the journey with me to remind me where they are.

In the past few months that I've had this pastor job, I've had some anxiety. Am I up to this task? Can I proclaim the good news of the Gospel with my words and my life faithfully week in and week out? What if our church doesn't grow? What if it shrinks? What if I stand up to talk and forget how to use my mouth to make sounds?

I think this image might help with some of that anxiety. Yes, I have a great responsibility to do my job faithfully, but I don't create the landmarks, and I'm not on my own. I'm traveling with a group of people, and I happen to have the great privilege of pointing out some sites along the way. And just because I'm the one holding the microphone, doesn't mean I'm the expert. I should always be listening and learning from the ones who know this place better than I do.

What do you think? Is this a good analogy? Does it have some limitations? How do you see your role as pastor? As congregant?

Should churches look more like this?

Tuesday Afternoon Thoughts: On Drinking

"Knowledge puffs up; love builds up." - Paul

Here's what I have to say on the topic of alcohol. I'm just going to put this out there on the interwebs, where it will be just one more voice in a cacophony of opinions, but it's Tuesday, so why not?

Alcohol is not just a chemical; it is a culture. That is the crux of my position.

A Lesson from History
In Paul's letter to the Corinthians, he addressed the question of meat sacrificed to idols. Commentators speculate that the apparent division in the church was as much along economic lines as anything. The wealthy had one experience of eating meat sacrificed to idols; the poor had a different experience.

The Wealthy

Source: Corinth Computer Project

In the city of Corinth, it seemed like every other building was a temple or shrine to an idol. For the wealthy members of the city, gathering at these temples for dinners to meet and greet one another was a regular occurrence. The consumption of meat sacrificed to idols was a normal part of the meal, with no religious significance, other than the cult of status-seeking.

The Poor
While the wealthy frequently gathered for dinners and parties and ate and drank together, the poor tended to join in only for the big events--the religious festivals. On the rare occasions that the poor ate meat at all, it was usually part of an event steeped in pagan worship and ritual sacrifice.

The Disconnect
The Corinthians evidently had some disagreement about whether it was acceptable to eat meat sacrificed to idols. The letter that the Jerusalem council drafted to the Gentile churches (Acts 15) specifically forbid the consumption of idol meat, but Paul felt the need to address the issue again. Paul's words to the wealthy were harsh. He attacked their so-called knowledge that permitted them "freedom" on this issue  and said that it, in fact, would lead to the destruction of the weaker brothers and sisters. Christ had given his very life for them, and they couldn't give up even a small thing like meat sacrificed to idols.

But maybe it wasn't about the meat for them. Maybe it was about the lifestyle. The eating and drinking, the hobnobbing with the other important citizens of Corinth, the dinners, the opulent lifestyle. To go to the house of a wealthy citizen of Corinth and reject the food--well, that would be an unforgivable offense. Suddenly all their dreams of wealth and prestige would be gone.

Photo Credit: Jefferson Hitchens

The Table
But the invitation to the Lord's Table isn't an invitation to wealth and prestige. It's an invitation to a place where the hierarchy of status is discarded, where slaves and landowners sit down side by side, where men and women are sons and daughters of Christ together, where Jews and Gentiles are all participants in the same meal. What the Corinthian Christians might not have expected was the exclusivity of this table--that when they sat down to this table, it might negate their chance to sit at any other table in the city.

So what's this have to do with alcohol?
Just like the meat sacrificed to idols wasn't just a food but a lifestyle, I think the same is true of alcohol in our culture today. What images come to mind when you think of drinking?

A guy wearing a cut-off t-shirt that doesn't quite cover his beer belly, sitting in a recliner watching NASCAR?

An upscale dinner at a trendy restaurant with a five-page wine list?

A pulsing club with a wall of top shelf liquors ready to be poured into unique and creative concoctions?

A family gathering where the food, wine, and conversation are flowing freely?

What's your image?

A gathering with friends at the end of a long week with some good burgers and home-brewed hard cider?

A homeless woman living on the street in a drunken, cloudy haze with a flask in one hand and her other hand holding a sign asking for money?

These are pretty diverse images. When we talk in our churches today about alcohol consumption, just like Paul, we have to know our context. And furthermore, we need to hear the real issues that concern the people at our table.

Because here's the thing. If we preach against a life of excess--overeating, overspending, excessive alcohol consumption--to a community where alcohol is the only escape from a life of inescapable poverty, we're not preaching the Gospel of abundance; we're just heaping guilt on those often paralyzed by guilt for their failure.

If we preach against pluralism and moral relativism--including a lax stance on drinking--to a congregation of legalists whose circle of the "saved" seems to be ever diminishing, then we're not preaching the Gospel of love and forgiveness of joy in God's good gifts; we're just patting ourselves on the back for our failure to minister to the needs of those we don't understand.

If we preach against slovenly drunkenness to a community of professionals where image is everything and it's just as much a faux pas to be seen drunk as it is to be seen without a classy beverage in hand, then we're not preaching the Gospel of authenticity and vulnerability; we're teaching that this is not a safe place to be real.

If we preach against the club scene and the drinking and sex that come with it to a congregation of young parents who are drinking their wine at home every night as a way to unwind from the craziness of the day, then we're not preaching the Gospel of dependence on God for peace and wholeness; we're creating a wider gap between the already wide gap of those "out there" living "that life" and us "in here" living "this life," which we're stuck with whether we like it or not.

Love Excluding All Else (Not Sobriety Excluding All Else)
Who is eating beside us at the table? What message of hope does the life-changing, joy-filled good news of the Gospel have for them?

Alcohol is not just a chemical; it's a lifestyle. And the Gospel calls us all out of our lifestyles of self-sufficiency, self-focus, and self-gratification and into lifestyles of love, humility, and submission to the community gathered at the table, where God's love and forgiveness flow freely.

We must be careful that our identity is not defined by what we're against, but by what we're for. I, for one, am proud to be part of a tradition where what we're for is love of God and love of neighbor.

I hope that the love we preach isn't overshadowed by a line in the sand over an issue that is nuanced and complex. When it came to meat sacrificed to idols, even the letter from the counsel in Jerusalem wasn't enough to settle the question once and for all. And when it comes to the issue of alcohol today, I would hate for us to be any less willing to have another conversation than Paul was with the Corinthian Christians.

Who will be seated next to you at the table?

Little Lambs

"Feed my lambs." - Jesus (to Peter)

Today is Amos's first full day of daycare. I am very excited about this new development in our lives, but I am also anxious. As I was thinking about what I hope of Amos's teacher, I realized that maybe there are some correlations between that and what God wants for me as a pastor.

1. Patience. Anyone who spends all day every day working with one and two-year-olds probably has a lot of patience. But I'm afraid that Amos's teacher will get impatient sometimes with him--with ways that he is behind developmentally, routines and customs that all the other kids know that he hasn't learned yet, his adjustment to different expectations of him. I know he'll learn, but in the meantime, I hope that his teacher is really patient with him and gives him time to adjust.

I came across a thought-provoking blog the other day here. The author said, in short, that too often the people we want in churches are the ones who have been "fixed up" somewhere else and are sent to us "pre-packaged." As a pastor, do I have the same patience with new Christians as I hope Amos's teacher does of new students? What if they are developmentally delayed--don't speak "Christian-ese," lose their temper easily, struggle with the most simple Christian tasks like finding a book of the Bible? What if they don't know the customs, like being quiet during prayer or answering questions with the appropriate combination of openness and reservation? What if they don't live up to my expectations of them? Will I be patient? Will I give them time to learn and adjust? Or will I get angry and frustrated?

2. Listening. Sometimes the straw thing on Amos's water bottle comes out of its little connector hole. I'm not sure why it's designed like that (maybe for cleaning?), but it upsets him greatly whenever it happens. Will his teacher know that when he holds his water bottle full of water up to her and makes upset noises that he needs her to fix it? I hope that she takes the time to listen to his concern and figure out what's wrong, so she can help him. I'm afraid she'll just think he's making some kind of ridiculous request for more water when he clearly already has some.

One of my favorite sayings is, "The issue is never the issue." When someone comes to me upset about something, it may be that what I said really isn't the issue. There may be something much deeper going on. I think that as a pastor, I am called to listen beyond their words and hear their concerns, their past experiences, their grief, their hurts. I hope that I can listen to people who, even though they can talk, struggle just as much as Amos does to communicate their true needs.

3. Seeing. Even though Amos doesn't talk, I know him well enough to understand his feelings most of the time. Sometimes he gets in a mood that we call the "Amos tornado." He just goes through the house randomly destroying things--taking things out of the trash, throwing things on the floor, opening drawers and cabinets, clearing off tables. Usually, he's just hungry. If I say, "Amos, do you want to eat supper now?" he stops immediately and comes to his chair to sit down and eat. But it's not at all obvious to anyone who doesn't know him that he's clearing off end tables because he's hungry.

As a pastor, I know I can't pick up on every single nonverbal cue of every congregant. However, I want to know my people well enough to perceive when someone is having a bad day, or is depressed, lonely, upset, angry, or whatever. I want to take the time to get to know people, and I want to continue to take the time to see them as they are.

4. Protecting. It's okay for Amos to learn about social interaction through conflict. However, I expect Amos's teacher to not let a stranger leave school with him. I expect her to not place him in situations that are beyond his ability to navigate safely. I also hope that she helps guide him through conflict, teaching him skills for interacting with his peers.

As a pastor, I know I can't protect the people in my congregation from the difficulties that life throws at them. However, there are things I can protect them from. I don't need to pass along every negative comment that I hear. I can preach in a way that keeps the focus on God and the Scriptures; they don't need to hear every thought I have as I prepare my sermons. If I have a negative experience with the church leadership above me, I don't need to pass that on to my congregation. I also need to pray fervently over my congregation, to stand alongside them as they battle all the difficulties that come their way.

5. Feeding. I do mean this literally. I hope that Amos gets enough to eat at daycare and that it's somewhat healthy. But I also mean it metaphorically. I hope that he gets lots of new experiences. That he's learning new songs, meeting new people, learning new words. He came home from his first afternoon already signing "more." I would never take him to a daycare that felt like a holding cell. The scenes of the daycare in the movie The Pursuit of Happyness have haunted me for years--graffiti on the doors, kids zoned out in front of the tv, kids fighting. I hope that Amos's time at daycare pours life into him, rather than sucking it out of him. I hope that his teacher works to feed him.

As a pastor, I want the time that people spend at church on Sunday morning to be more than carrying out a lifelong sentence to spend four thousand hours at church. I want to make the effort to put time into what I do, so that I can pour life into my congregation, rather than sucking it out of them. I know that God is working, and that it's not all about my effort or what I do, but I still want to use everything I have to feed my congregation the Word of God, so that their time at church adds to their life, teaches them something new, helps them grow, expands their understanding of the world. Again, I can't do this on my own, but I also can't do it without working at it.

6. Loving. I love Amos so much. It's hard for me to leave him in a place where people don't love him like I do. But I expect that his teacher does come to love her kids, to care for them, to not just do her job out of obligation.

It stops me in my tracks to think about how much I love Amos and how hard it is to entrust him to someone else. God loves his children the same way. Of course, God doesn't leave us completely in the hands of other people, but it makes me realize how deeply I am called to love and care for my congregation. I need to have the same expectations of myself that I do of Amos's teacher: to look past Amos's faults and difficulties and to see a wonderful, sweet little boy that desperately wants to be loved. And so I am called also to look past the faults and difficulties of the people in my congregation and see the beautiful children of God who desperately want to be loved.

Who wouldn't love this kid?

I pray that God will continually increase my ability to love and care for his children just as much as I want Amos to be loved and cared for even when he's not with me. And I pray also that God will help me to not spend the entire time that Amos is at daycare worrying about him!

The Haps

"The days go slow but the years fly by."

I don't remember where I heard that quotation, but it hit home for me immediately. The months that have gone by since I last wrote a blog post are proof of the flying years (or months) in my life! So, here's an update.

On December 3rd, we had a baby girl. She's great! Here she is at about four weeks old.

Photo credit: Sondra Laughlin

On December 18th, we celebrated our little boy's two-year-old birthday. Here he is with his dad on his birthday:

On December 21st, I returned to preaching. Here's a picture of me preaching a few weeks before the baby was born:

Photo credit: Jeren Rowell

On December 22nd, we bought a house. We moved in on January 10th. Here's a picture of our beautiful fireplace:

Throughout all of this, we have been surrounded by an amazing community of people who have helped with cleaning, babysitting, packing, moving, unpacking, and lots of encouragement. Our church has been incredibly supportive of us. Our seminary community made meals for us after the baby was born and helped with babysitting, moving, and unpacking. Our families helped so much in the crazy time between the baby and moving.

I was worried about being isolated in a new community, but a surprising number of people have been willing to make the forty-five minute drive to our new house. I've enjoyed their company, and I feel so fortunate to have a house that people can enjoy. I hope our house is a place of hospitality for years to come.

One of my college professors was fond of saying that all theology is inherently practical. This season has definitely been one filled with the practical--babies, places, friends, and family--but after preaching during Advent about God's incarnational presence in those parts of life, I'd say that this season might also be one of the most profoundly spiritual.

Here's one more picture of our sweet kids:

Thanks be to God.

A Day In the Life

Playgroup this morning, which means I should have a nice long naptime break this afternoon to get some things done!

Time to make a big pot of ham and bean soup to freeze to eat when the new baby comes.

Chopping lots of veggies...getting stuff done. Husband is home for lunch. Few minutes of adult conversation right in the middle of the day. All is well!

Oh no! There's the toddler crying. He woke up from his nap way too soon!

Fortunately, Daddy's home. He can feed him some lunch...

Nope. Daddy's busy with work stuff. Maybe lunch can wait...

You're hungry right now?

My hands are covered with raw onions, and I still have two more to chop. Well, kid, looks like you're having onions for lunch.

Oh? You like raw onions? Weird...but great! Have some more!

And here are some nice yummy chunks of ham to go with those onions.

Putting all the veggies, ham, and seasoning in the pot with the beans...

So quadrupling the recipe seemed like a good idea...until I realize my pot is not actually four times the size of my normal pot. Maybe if I leave out some broth and pray that it doesn't boil over, especially since I just spent twenty minutes cleaning the stovetop last night.

Spilled onions, chili powder, parsley, and carrots. So much for the clean stovetop...

You're still hungry? Here, have a leftover roll to go with your ham and onions.

Why is there broth all over the one shelf of the refrigerator that doesn't come out? Time to clean out the fridge...

Son, why are you sucking on the nozzle of a bottle of shower cleaner? You have to stay out of that cabinet! 

Closing the bathroom door...

I'll start on the fridge by throwing out this old shredded pork that was in the fridge. Oh no! The trash can is overflowing and shredded pork spilled all over the floor!

No! Don't take that bad pork out of the trash and eat it! Stay away from the trash!

Taking the trash out...

Washing the dirty prep bowls and knives...

Why is your shirt all wet? Drink your water...don't use it to blow raspberries and drip down your front! Are you done drinking? Just put your water bottle on the counter. You don't need to throw it...

Soup on the stove. Dishes washed and drying. Floors and counters reasonably clean. Fridge shelf emptied and wiped down. And toddler did not consume any cleaning supplies or rotten meat (although he does have really bad breath!)

Time for cake.

Getting ready this morning: pre hair gel

Post hair gel - this kid kills me!

In Which I Speculate Wildly on Parallels Between the Lives of Noah and Moses

"Today's church wants to be raptured from responsibility." - Leonard Ravenhill

Much has been written about the new Left Behind movie coming out. I figured I'd jump on the bandwagon because, why not?

Moses
The Old Testament lectionary text this coming Sunday is Exodus 32:1-14, which tells the story of the golden calf. God had dramatically delivered the Israelites from Egypt. There were plagues. There was that time when the Red Sea was parted and the Israelites walked through on dry ground while Pharaoh's army drowned behind them. Then there was water from the rock and manna from heaven. The Israelites were on one wild ride.

Picture of the *actual* Moses

And then Moses went up on the mountain. For a really long time. Forty days and forty nights. (That doesn't seem that long to me, but I guess it was to the Israelites.)

Anyway, so Aaron made them a golden calf, and they worshiped it.

Well, God wasn't too happy with this turn of events and told Moses, "I see that this is a stiffnecked people. Now, let Me be that My anger may blaze forth against them and that I may destroy them, and make of you a great nation."

Moses responded, "Let not Your anger, O Lord, blaze forth against Your people, whom You delivered from the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand. ... Remember Your servants, Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, how You swore to them by Your Self and said to them: 'I will make your offspring as numerous as the stars of heaven, and I will give to your offspring this whole land of which I spoke to possess forever.'"

According to the Bible, "the Lord renounced the punishment He had planned to bring upon His people," and the Israelites were not destroyed.

Noah

And the *actual* Noah

In Genesis 6, God had a similar conversation with Noah. God said, "I have decided to put an end to all flesh, for the earth is filled with lawlessness because of them: I am about to destroy them with the earth. ... But I will establish My covenant with you, and you shall enter the ark, with your sons, your wife, and your sons' wives."

And Noah said, "Okay."

And every living thing on the earth was destroyed.

Favor
Moses and Noah are the only two people in the Old Testament who "found favor with God." However, something changed between the time of Noah and the time of Moses. Apparently for Noah, it was okay to just watch the world around him be destroyed while his family camped out in the ark. However, by the time of Moses, it wasn't okay anymore to be content with saving himself while all those around him were destroyed. In chapter 33 of Exodus, one of the most significant events happened: God passed before Moses in all His glory. Clearly, Moses had done something right in chapter 32.

The *actual* Kirk Cameron

Left Behind
This may be a stretch (thus the "wild speculation"), but I'm going to go out on a limb and say that it still isn't okay for Christians to revel in their own salvation at the expense of the world around them. I don't think that's the point of the Left Behind movie/books/empire, but I think it may be one reason why Christians like them so much. "Relief" is the word that comes to mind. It's easy to watch those movies and feel relief that we, as Christians, won't ever have to go through all the craziness that poor Kirk Cameron and Nicolas Cage have to endure. Relief that we will be able to escape. Relief that it's "them" and not "us."

But I'm pretty sure that the days of Noah are long past. The days of Moses are, of course, pretty far behind us too, but the exodus narrative is the single most revisited narrative throughout the Bible; it is central to our understanding of God's formation of his people. And Moses' response to God's anger about the whole golden calf thing is one part of that narrative that I think is worth revisiting.

I'm not so sure that God is actually interested nowadays in whisking away his people in an ark or teleporter or some other such people-moving mechanism and then pouring out destruction on everyone else. I think Moses might be a better example for us to follow than Noah.

Tikkun Olam
According to Wikipedia (which I read recently may not actually be the best source for all things academic, but that's beside the point), the Hebrew phrase tikkun olam means "repairing the world" (or "healing the world"), which "suggests humanity's shared responsibility to heal, repair and transform the world."

I like that. I like the hope that comes with that. What if we can actually make the world better? What if we don't have to sit back and watch the world around us be destroyed? What if we can partner with God to bring healing and transformation in relationships, economic systems, governments, agriculture, neighborhoods, cities, families, and countries? What if we can stand defiantly in the face of an impending disaster, whether an "act of God" or otherwise and say, "This will not destroy us"? What if we can stand up for the people among us who are weak and helpless?

What if we accept our responsibility to participate in the healing and transformation of the whole world and not just the rescue of our own? What if Noah isn't such a great example after all?

Joy Comes In the Morning

"If there is anxiety in a man's mind let him quash it,
And turn it into joy with a good word." - Proverbs 12:25

I'm not going to lie. I have some anxiety. I don't feel confident at all about my ability to preach every week, about my ability to lead a congregation, or even about my interpersonal skills.

Also, have I mentioned that I'm pregnant? Every thought that crosses my mind gets blown way out of proportion.

These two passages are keeping me somewhat sane:

Exodus 5
God called Moses in the wilderness and told him to go to Egypt to deliver the Israelites from slavery. This should, of course, make Moses a hero to the Israelites. Unfortunately, things didn't start out so well. As soon as Moses and Aaron went to Pharaoh to ask for the Israelites' freedom, Pharaoh increased their workload. The foremen of the Israelites said this to Moses and Aaron:

"May the Lord look upon you and punish you for making us loathsome to Pharaoh and his courtiers--putting a sword in their hands to slay us."

As it turns out, being called to lead God's people doesn't always go so well. Some days, saying yes to God's call results in your congregation praying that God would punish you--or something not quite so harsh but that still feels pretty devastating!

So, if things start off a little rough, at least I'm in good company!

Luke 4
In Luke, Jesus started off his public ministry by reading aloud in the synagogue from Isaiah 61 about proclaiming good news to the poor, proclaiming freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind. Again, you would think this would make him pretty popular!

However, the crowd responded to his words somewhat negatively:

"They got up, drove [Jesus] out of the town, and took him to the brow of the hill on which the town was built, in order to throw him off the cliff."

At that point, I would have been feeling a whole lot of anxiety, but this is what Jesus did:

"But he walked right through the crowd and went on his way."

My heart might be telling me that I'm not qualified for this job, that the difficulties in our congregation are just too much to overcome, and that I'll go back to being unemployed before I know it.

But in my head, I just keep remembering these two stories--one about the greatest leader in the Old Testament--who was hated at the beginning. The other about the Incarnate God, whose congregation tried to throw him off a cliff the first time he opened his mouth to speak. But, God fulfilled his purposes through both of their lives. Both Moses and Jesus did ultimately bring delivery to God's people--in God's way and on God's time.

I may not be Moses and Jesus (and--thank goodness--I don't stir up nearly the negative feelings that they did!) but I trust that what God is doing in our church is bigger than any anxiety I might have. If God called us there, then God will make a way forward.

Joy
I'm preaching this week on the miraculous parting of the Red Sea (or Sea of Reeds) in Exodus 14. In Exodus 15, after the miraculous defeat of Pharaoh's army, the Israelites stopped to sing. Too often, we underestimate the power of expressing our joy in response to God's mighty works. Joy sustains us. It fills us with hope to keep going forward.

Like the Proverb says, I pray this week that my anxiety will not only dissipate but be replaced by joy.

This face always brings me joy!

How I Became A Preacher

"God doesn't ask us to trade who we are for the label of 'Mom.'" - Lisa Jo Baker

Motherhood
I read those words just a few weeks ago in a wonderful book my mom bought for me called Surprised by Motherhood. (Thanks, Mom!) When I read them, I thought, "Sure. Maybe that's true for you, Lisa Jo. You have all kinds of experience in your field, you've traveled all over the world, you have lots of connections. You were trying to rescue girls from human trafficking, for goodness' sake. Maybe God doesn't ask you to trade all that, but I'm not like you. I have zero experience in my field. I'm living in a city where I really don't know all that many people. Besides that, ministry is not a lucrative career. I'll never be able to get a job that requires childcare, which means I'll never be able to get a job."

Well, last week, I got a job. As a pastor. In a church. That I actually really like.

Here's what happened.

The Beginning
About three years ago, Mike and I decided to leave our church. There were some good things happening there, but overall, it was not a healthy place, especially for us as we began our married life together. We had already been attending another church on Saturday nights and decided that we would just continue to do that for a while. Over time, we got involved there. I had a really great ministry internship. We joined and then started leading a small group. We attended the membership class and became members. We attended some really solid prayer and devotional classes as they were offered. It was a really wonderful place for us as we began our married life together and I finished up my seminary education.

In the meantime, though, a lot of other really big changes happened in my life. I had a baby and quit my part-time job. I graduated from seminary.

Getting Angry
One day, I realized that I was angry. I was angry that my life had changed so dramatically over the past few years, while Mike's had mostly stayed the same. In five years, I moved to a new city, started and finished grad school, got married, had a baby, and transitioned to being a stay-at-home-mom. Everything from where I lived to what I did every day had changed so quickly!

I was also angry that all of my wonderful undergraduate and graduate level education had in no way prepared me to know how to be a stay-at-home-mom. I'm not crafty, I don't like to cook or bake, I have no desire to structure my son's day around learning activities, I don't enjoy solitude, I hate unstructured time with no deadlines...the list goes on. In short, Pinterest is not my friend.

For so long, I had wanted to pastor a church, and now I finally had the education to do it, but it just seemed impossible.

"Waiting is not failing."
I started a blog. I took a class. I continued to lead our small group. I did some small writing projects for my church and in other places. I joined a gym, so I could talk to people outside of my house. I joined a mom's group. These things invigorated me, and sustained me, but they were also incomplete.

My blog lacked the personal interaction that I enjoy about ministry. My class ended. Our small group kept canceling for various reasons. My writing projects ended. I got pregnant and quit the gym. People kept moving away from my mom's group. (I'm still mad at you, Lauren Brian and Katie Savage.)

More than anything, I wanted two things: I wanted a community to invest in, and I wanted to preach the word. I came home from church one day, frustrated that my church would never offer either opportunity. I wrestled with my frustration, and God gave me that phrase: "Waiting is not failing."

But, as Tom Petty also said, "The waiting is the hardest part."

No more babysitting!
While I was finishing my degree, one of my neighbors generously offered to babysit my three-month-old son in exchange for me babysitting her slightly older son. It was a wonderful blessing to me as I finished up my last class, and I wanted to be able to offer that to others.

But here's the thing. I'm terrible at babysitting. I almost always cried through a good part of it. I watched the minutes click by on the clock, just waiting for it to end, praying that I would never have to babysit again, dreading the next time it came around. (Don't take that personally, all my mom friends. It's ok to admit that I'm bad at things, and it has nothing to do with your wonderful kids, whom I really do love.)

Finally, after one especially long, frustrating day of babysitting, I told Mike that I had to find a way to never babysit again. But I felt bad saying no when all I was doing was sitting at home taking care of a baby who slept as much as five hours every day, so I needed an excuse. Out of desperation, I signed up to do pulpit supply so that I would be able to tell anyone who asked me to babysit that I unfortunately could not because I had other obligations.

I know. That's a terrible reason. But sometimes desperation can lead to finally saying yes to God.

Preaching
It wasn't long at all before Mike and I were asked to provide pulpit supply for a church without a pastor. They had most of the weeks scheduled but asked us to do music one week and music and preaching the next week. It was wonderful! The second week, we played an organ/piano duet for the offertory, and they gave us a standing ovation and asked for an encore. Not only that, but I loved preaching. I loved studying the lectionary passage, applying my biblical hermeneutics and preaching classes to developing the sermon, and standing before the congregation delivering the message.

Unfortunately, that experience only fueled my discontentment. I'll spare you the details, but I did not become a better person, especially in my involvement at church, when all I really wanted to do was preach my own sermons.

In the next few months, I had more opportunities to preach, and while the weeks I was writing sermons were often stressful and difficult, the joy and satisfaction I found in preparing and preaching sermons sustained me for weeks afterwards until I got to preach again.

Falling in Love
I preached at a few different churches, but I was really impressed by one church in particular. They weren't very big, but the people seemed really invested. We happened to be there the first week after their pastor resigned, and they were surprisingly organized. They had an order of service. They knew who was doing what. The woman who led music was in regular communication with us throughout the week in preparation for Sunday.

We were not the regular interim pastor, but we came whenever he couldn't, and I started to really like going there. They loved our little boy. They took us out to eat after church. We got to know the names of most of the members.

And they prayed. We went to Sunday School every week between music practice and the service, and I got to hear members of the congregation respond to the lessons each week. They talked about their daily Bible reading and prayer. They talked about the miraculous ways God had worked in their lives. They were generous and kind.

As I prayed for the congregation each week while preparing sermons, I found that I quickly felt at home there. Without realizing it, I began to fall in love with that church.

Where to now?
Then it all came to an end. We had been scheduled to preach a few more Sundays, but they had scheduled candidates to come interview and preach on those Sundays, and they expected to hire one of them as the pastor. The music leader, who was our main point of contact, told us about both candidates and was really excited about them.

I was happy for the church, but I was also really disappointed. Summer is the best time for doing pulpit supply because that's generally when pastors go on vacation, so not only did that feel like the end of our time at that church, but the end of my chance to preach.

That Sunday evening, Mike and I went to see The Isaacs in concert. They were wonderful! A strange thing happened, though. They said multiple times that they wanted to be a source of encouragement to people who were going through a tough time or felt like they were in a dark place. My head said that was me, but I just didn't feel that way. I felt at peace. I felt hopeful.

On the way home, the music leader texted me and asked if we would consider pastoring the church. She said she knew it was a long drive and we had a toddler and another baby on the way. However, on the way to the concert, Mike and I had talked about the possibility and decided that if they asked, we would go through the process and try to discern God's guidance for us, along with the church. So I texted her back and said yes, we would consider it.

Unfortunately, when Mike and I switched churches, we also switched denominations and no longer had any kind of license or credentials that made us eligible to be senior pastors. We didn't hear anything for a few weeks, but they did need someone to fill in one more Sunday at the last minute. It was then that we found out that the district superintendent had informed the church board that we didn't qualify for the job.

Again, I was disappointed, but I prayed that God would bring the right person to the church, and in the meantime, I was actually relieved to have a few weeks off from preaching. I was enjoying my weekly routine more--trips to the library and park, mom's group, visits to the seminary, and even quiet times at home.

A Church Home
Then we got an email from the district superintendent. He asked if we would consider doing long-term pulpit supply for the church. We set up a meeting with him to clarify what he meant by that and then set up a meeting with him and the board the next week. Just a few hours after the board meeting, we got an email from the district superintendent notifying us that the job was ours if we wanted it.

That was one week ago today. Yesterday, I preached my first sermon as a pastor.

Logistics
Lots of questions are still hanging in the air. How can I still preach when the baby is born? How can we effectively pastor a church forty minutes from our house? How can Mike work a full-time job, while I take care of two kids and both of us try to pastor a church? How can we fulfill the pastoral obligations without any credentials?

I always preach from the lectionary, for a few reasons: I think it's a really good discipline to not just preach on my favorite Scriptures, I like the idea of traveling the same path through the Bible as lots of other churches all around the world, but mostly because I have only preached ten sermons in my life, so I don't know how else to do it.

Two weeks ago, the Old Testament reading moved to the book of Exodus. One of the major themes of Exodus is God's intervention on behalf of his people. God sent Moses into an impossible situation and then fought the most epic battle in the Bible on behalf of the Israelites. It's impossible to preach through this book and not stand in awe of both God's profound compassion for his people and his incredible power to move heaven and earth on their behalf.

Reading about the dramatic delivery of the Israelites from slavery makes little things like providing childcare and traveling forty minutes seem like minor concerns. Of course, the exodus is also a reminder that saying yes to God can have consequences completely beyond our imagination, both good and bad!

Last night, I couldn't sleep. It's possible that all the emotional ups and downs of the last few weeks were overwhelming my brain. (Have I mentioned that I'm pregnant and my emotions are off the charts?) I got up and started browsing the interwebs, and I came across this video of Shauna Niequist, which included these words:

"It wasn't narrow theological boundaries that kept my mom from pursuing her passions; essentially, it was logistics."

She went on to say:

"What option do we have? Are we going to leave the world-changing and the kingdom-building to the people who don't have logistical challenges? Are we going to leave those things to the people who aren't scared, to the people who are perfectly prepared? There aren't any of those people." 

Those words felt like they came straight from God. They gave me such assurance that saying yes to God's call is always the right choice even if the logistics seem impossible.

The Pastors Coblentz
So now Mike and I our pastors. It's all happened so fast. We actually didn't even know that our last Sunday at our previous church would be our last Sunday. Two weeks ago, I thought maybe I would still get to do pulpit supply here and there. I was excited about life with a toddler and the new baby on the way. I had accepted that as Christians, we are always "strangers in a strange land," and it might be a long time before I found a place where I could serve and invest in ways that I longed to do so.

I know that we have a hard road ahead of us. I don't think anyone ever walked into their first pastorate and was surprised by how easy it was. And I know that it's not only our lives that our changing but the lives of members of our congregation too, and some people deal with change much better than others.

But I'm excited. I'm excited to be preaching through the book of Exodus. I'm excited about this group of people that we've found to partner with in ministry. I'm excited about playing music every week with Mike. I'm excited about this unknown journey that I feel like my education actually has prepared me for (as much as possible!) I'm excited to be doing this with Mike who, in the past few weeks, has surpassed my already extensive knowledge of his selflessness, optimism, creativity, generosity, passion, and insight.

Yesterday, I preached about God's calling to Moses in Exodus 3. Moses asked God his name, and God replied with the enigmatic eyeh-asher-eyeh: I am who I am or I will be who I will be. God didn't just work in the past; God is working in the present. I'm excited to see what God will do in our little church in the days to come.

I hope being a PK doesn't mess up our happy kid!