Category Archives: Ministry

The Church Spends Billions of Dollars To Keep Young People Away

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I’m paraphrasing what Andy Stanley said to a room full of church leaders at a conference recently.

Sure, it’s a bit dramatic. And perhaps overly generalizing.
But there is truth in that sentence.

Churches spend a great deal of time and effort in creating a meaningful worship experience. Pastors spend countless hours crafting and preparing a sermon. The choir director spends hours preparing what songs would fit into the worship service. The organist spends hours of practicing. The choir members give their time to make sure practice can get as close to perfect as possible.
And the youth are sitting in the church sitting through all this bored out of their minds, thinking they can’t wait until they can get out of here and/or can’t wait until they get to college so that they’re not dragged along on Sunday mornings.

That was something else Andy Stanley said in the same session. But, I also lived it. I was part of a church where the youth group absolutely hated to go into worship because they didn’t want to sit through “funeral music.”
I was part of a church where youth ministry wasn’t as important in practice as it was spoken. They just wanted to keep the kids out of the adults way. The adults would barge in the middle of youth worship, just so that they can set up for lunch. And they would view our worship as an inconvenience to their setting up for lunch. Feeding the adults were more important than the feeding of the souls of youth through Word and Worship. Yea, the youth ministry was really important to them…

There are countless of places this conversation can go. Worship style. Preference vs. Purpose. What is being relevant?

But, what I want to ask today is have we tried all that we can; exhausted all the possible options we can come up with to make worship relevant to this generation, all the while maintaining our identity in Christ? Or, do we dig our heels into the ground and say, “This is what we’ve done for years, and what we prefer” and threaten to leave the church if it’s no longer the church that we have become accustomed to?

Summarizing his final point, when young people decide to leave the church, it should be because of a personal choice they made through experiences and personal revelation.
They shouldn’t leave their because the local church chose to invest all their resources in keeping yesterday’s generation of Christians happy and pleased.

What do you think?

Trust in the LORD With All Your Heart …

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I remember telling my dad that I didn’t want to go through the ordination process.

Since I loved youth ministry and I wanted to do youth ministry until the day I retire, I figured I didn’t need to go through ordination to do that. And of course, the other part of the reason was that I just didn’t want to go through all that crap stuff.

But it’s a good thing I started the process back then.

I was serious about doing youth ministry forever, though. I really thought that youth ministry was the be all, end all of my ministerial career. I thought I’d be doing youth ministry well into my 60′s.

Maybe that’s why people say things like, “Want to make God laugh? Tell God your future plans.”

There came a point in time when I realized, while I loved youth and youth ministry, there’s got to be more to me than just the “youth guy.” There’s more to life, faith, and ministry than this one facet that I have been immersed in for the past few years. And I wanted to explore that.

That coincided with me being commissioned as a provisional elder. Which meant, I was going to appointed somewhere by the Cabinet. Which I thought meant, “I can try something outside of youth ministry.” Only, the Cabinet sent me to an Anglo church to be their associate pastor with emphasis on youth ministry.

This would be first time, in my life, where I would not be part of a Korean church — and with that came “culture shock” and a lot of adjusting and a lot of things that I had to get used to.

Like side comments that were meant to encourage me, but were a bit offensive like, “I was so worried about your English, but after hearing you preach, I have to say: you speak English very, very well!”

But the biggest culture shock — the hardest transition was the youth ministry aspect.

The way we Koreans did youth ministry and the way the average Anglo UM churches do ministry are as different as night and day. And, for the life of me, I could not figure out how to meet the kids in some form of middle ground.

I tried. I felt like I came up short. I got frustrated. Tried new things. Reread and read all sorts of books on youth ministry. But, nothing was working. At the end of the day, I had to assume the problem was me. I just could not adapt to what the kids were used to. Nor could I have them meet me half way from what I as accustomed to. Also, a huge part of me was worried that if I were to adapt completely to how the anglo churches in the Cal-Pac did youth ministry, I would lose a big part of my identity as a pastor, as a Christian, and as a person.

But I loved those kids. They were great. They were fun. We had a great time hanging out. But, at that time, I felt that I was called to do more than just hang out and have fun. I was getting tired of silly and messy games. I was getting tired of lock-ins. Surely, there was more to my calling than playing a game of Hide and Seek at 3 in the morning in pitch black darkness even though it was pretty epic.

Then I got a call from a DS saying that I was moving. Which meant a new church. Which meant a new opportunity; a new job. Which I thought meant, “I can try something out of youth ministry.” Only, the Cabinet sent me to another Anglo church as the associate pastor with heavy emphasis on youth.

Apparently, God must’ve thought I had unfinished business with youth ministry when I thought I was done. But I figured, there must be a reason for this appointment. And I tried to make the best of it. I tried to learn from the mistakes from the previous appointment. I had learned through District and Conference gatherings that our conference, when it comes to youth, emphasized the importance of relationships with one another.

You see, in the Korean context, the emphasis is on the youth’s relationship with God. That’s why the retreats are intense. That’s why there are weekly prayer meetings. That’s why on Friday nights, instead of fellowship, the focus is on bible study and worship.

That insight helped a little.

And I loved that church. I loved the staff. I loved the kids. They were great. But something deep within me nagged at me — because I (still) wasn’t making the connections I was accustomed to making in youth ministry.

Though it was hard, I had to admit that I wasn’t the best fit for this church, when it came to youth ministry. Or maybe, I just wasn’t the best fit for any youth ministry.

It was a complete detour from just few years earlier, when I was telling my dad I was going to do youth ministry for the rest of my life.

Please don’t get me wrong. I am tremendously grateful for both experiences and both churches. They embraced me. They loved me. They were patient with me as I was trying to figure things out.

But, I don’t think I ever figured things out. I don’t think I was as “successful” as I hoped to be (or desired to be) in both settings.

And I’m thankful that both churches are doing well today — that I didn’t mess up so bad as to cripple them or set them back decades. I just wish I could’ve done… better… more.

When I was in Hawaii last week, I got a chance to preach for the youth at my old church. Most of the kids I worked with were now in college. That means this was a whole new batch of kids that I didn’t know. I thought I had prepared a good sermon for the youth ministry.

When I got up to preach, I saw all these young sets of eyes staring at me.

As I met their gaze, I said to myself, “Uh oh. This sermon might not be the best in this context.”

And it wasn’t. The college kids who helped with youth ministry understood the message (at least that’s what they told me). But, I think for most of the youth kids, I spoke over their heads using “Punahou” words as the student formerly known as Intern Dae shared. Meaning, I used words that the kids would never use on a daily basis. And not just because they’re Hawaii kids…

It’s funny how sure and solid we think our plans for our future may be. 8 years ago, I would’ve never imagined feeling like this towards youth ministry. 8 years ago, I wouldn’t have pictured myself being a pastor to adults, let alone, serving an Anglo church.

But that’s the thing. God’s in control, not me. And life is much, much easier when I accept that instead of trying to fight with God and hold tightly to future plans that may not work out the best for me. Life is easier when we trust in God and God’s plans. For God’s plans are for peace, not disaster, to give us a future filled with hope.

So may we trust in The Lord with all our heart, not relying solely on our intelligence or our own abilities to get by.

May we know him in all our paths, for God will keep our ways straight!

Be Patient. God Knows What God’s Doing.

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Santa Barbara, looking east from above Santa B...

Some time in 2012, I knew that my time at my former church was coming to a close. I was sure of it, because my DS (District Superintendent) had told me so. I wasn’t in any trouble (that I know of) but, outside of what she had informed me, I also knew in my heart that a time of transition was coming. To where? I had no idea. The DS told me that she couldn’t say anything but to be in prayer and know that there is a plan.

So, I remained in prayer and tried to form my own plan, naturally.
I had it in me that I wanted to return to the Korean church. I had been (am still) so critical of the Korean church. It was time to shut up and put my money where my mouth is. I couldn’t help but think of the parable of the Prodigal Son, where I was playing the part of the son returning home — the Korean church. But instead of the father running towards with open arms ready to embrace and kiss me, I envisioned running towards, as Jesus put it, weeping and gnashing of teeth. I kid. Well, sort of. And yes, I realize how egotistical it was of me to think that way.

And then — a position at a Korean church opened. I thought that this was more than a coincidence. Intern Dae once asked, “Do you think you could ever go back to a Korean church?” At that time, I answered, “If I ever were to go back to the Korean church, I’d like it to be at [the Korean church mentioned at the beginning of this paragraph]. It’s never going to happen, though. I don’t think that pastor’s leaving any time soon.”

So, I figured this was God’s way of telling me that I may have to, for lack of a better
cliche´, put my money where my mouth is.

So I contacted the pastor. He wanted to meet. I drove out to meet him. We talked. I got excited. He got excited — except that the position I wanted was being filled, but they were looking for a college pastor and would I be interested. I always wanted to try college ministry, so I said yes. Then he told me to come to the church and meet with the SPRC.
So my wife and I drove to the church to see what the church was like. Secretly, I went there ready to say ‘yes.’ I figured, this was what God wanted me to do. All the door seemingly just opened.

Only, after the meeting and the tour of the church, something in my heart nagged at me saying, “What are you doing?”
That inner dialogue was echoed by my wife, “I don’t think this would be a good place for us.”
But something within me really wanted this to happen. I really thought this place would be the next chapter in my life. However, there was enough hesitation and resistance (something I didn’t expect) within me to realize that I needed to figure out what was going on and pray on it.

After much prayer, and many conversations with trusted friends and family, it was what my wife said. She wondered if I was trying to force my way into this church, for whatever reasons because it was me that initiated everything from day 1. I was letting the DS know what was going on, instead of waiting for the Cabinet. And I realized, perhaps, this was a good time to not be so proactive, but a good time to wait. To pray. And to trust.

So, I told the pastor of the Korean church that I couldn’t go.
I told the DS that I would pray for the Cabinet and be patient as I possibly could, sort of apologizing for hijacking the whole process.

After what felt like years, I was told that an introductory meeting was set up for me in Santa Barbara.
My initial reaction?
“Oh. Santa Barbara? Okay… Well. Yea. Thanks.”
I wasn’t too thrilled. I was paying attention to the possible appointments, and I secretly hoped that Santa Barbara wasn’t one of the places. Why? Because we lived there when I was in jr. high to early high school. I just wasn’t excited.
But, I wasn’t going to refuse this introduction meeting.

So my wife and I drove north to Santa Barbara. I was a bit apprehensive and went to the meeting expecting the worst. I just didn’t think I’d be a good fit for the church and for Santa Barbara.

But. As soon as I sat down. There was a strange warming in my heart. I wish I was making that up. I’m not saying that to be a good Methodist. There really was a strange warming within my heart. And everything felt …. right. 

After the meeting, the wife and I drove to State street to have dinner. We talked about the meeting and she asked, “What did you think?”
I told her that I think that this was it.
I also shared with her, had I felt any inkling of what I feel now for the Korean church, I would’ve jumped at the chance. But, I knew that I had dodged a bullet going to that Korean church. I’m not saying that the Korean church was a bad church or whatever. But, I knew that I would’ve made a huge mistake if I had gone to that church. Consider that my Tarsus, if you will.
I honestly think, the outcome would have been that both the church and I go our separate ways, both damaged, hurt and scarred.

Of course, that Korean church brought in great people for their ministry, which I think is a great fit for them.
And God brought me to Santa Barbara.
I am 100% certain of that. And, honestly, I’m glad that I’m 100% certain of that, because it’s that knowledge and faith that will pull me through when we encounter uncertainty in the process of ministry. And, I know that this is a great fit for both church and myself.

I have no idea what God intends to do with me and St. Mark UMC. But, I know that it’s going to be something great and amazing. And, there’s no other option, because God is involved — especially if we continue to have God lead us, instead of us dictating God.

There are so many times in my life where I just want things to happen on my time, in my way. More often than not, I want to say, “God, this is what I’m going to do. Please bless it.” And move on forward.

But I need to continually remind myself that God knows what he’s doing.
And, more importantly, that I’m not God.

While there are times where I need to be active in my faith and not just sit around and wait for things to happen, there are times where I need to be patient, wait, discern and pray that God’s will be mine, not the other way around.

I think it’s more than fair to say, life is a bit more manageable and makes a little bit more sense when we live out God’s will for us.

 

I Pity Da Fool

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We recently started volunteering at a local rescue mission here in town.

On the 2nd Tuesdays of the month, we lead the chapel service at the rescue mission, where my wife shares the Gospel.

We've been there, now, 3-4 times and are slowly starting to get to know the people there — their names, their stories, etc.

The first time we volunteered, we got placed in the dinner line to serve food.

It was (and is) quite a sight seeing all the people getting food and eating in the cafeteria and then seeing them hanging out in the courtyard waiting for their turn to shower.

You see all sorts of people going through the food line. Some who were well dressed, some who looked like they were on the streets longer, some who were sharp as people come, some who look really broken, some who look like the toll of being on the street has become too much — a variety of folks.

As I was serving people food, exchanging small talks, and just observing and watching them pass by me, there was a feeling that was sinking deeper and deeper into my heart.

Yes, my heart was breaking for them, but I couldn't quite put a finger on what exactly I was feeling.

It wasn't until a few days ago where I was finally able to put an English word behind what I was feeling as I was hanging out with the folks, doing whatever I was told to do by the person in charge: “Pity.”

And I hated the fact that was what I was feeling; that I felt pity for them.

I know there are many ways to describe the word and emotion of “pity.” But the first thought comes to my mind when I think of “pity” is feeling sorry for someone else.

And there's truth in that. I felt a bit sorry for the folks there at the rescue mission.

But the reason why I hate that feeling is because, for me, if I feel pity for a person, if I feel sorry for that person, it is coming from a place where I am, for a lack of a better word, “better” than that person. I know more. I am at a different level– a higher level of life, education, career, etc.

For me to feel sorry for someone, it means that I am at a better point in life than they are.

Maybe that's a bit extreme. And perhaps you'd take a completely different approach to the word “pity.”

But, that's how I feel. And if that's how I feel, my actions and interactions with folks may come from the source of feeling pitiful for them. Which is not what I want. At all.

Besides, those men and women? They don't need my pity. Not at all.

I want to come from a place of compassion; a place of grace and love; a place of support.

I want to truly be their friend, as much as I possibly can. But, I don't think I can do that with the wall of pity shielding me from them. And there really shouldn't be a “me” and “them.” But an “us.”

I am their brother in Christ. And they are my brothers and sisters. And friends.

I am not loved any more by God than they are loved.

As someone once said or wrote, “the ground is level at the foot of the cross.”

I think a problem that some Christians and churches run into is that they are doing homeless folks and organizations a “favor” by “serving” (volunteering?) them. Maybe that comes from a feeling obligation or, perhaps, pity. Maybe that's why some folks will donate what they were originally going to throw away to the homeless, because they might need it. It being trash.

They are not an obligation. They do not need a favor from any of us. Nor do they need our pity.

But they are our friends. They are our brothers and sisters in Christ. They are the very ones Christ would be “caught” hanging out with. He'd hang out with them more than you or me, I presume. They are the ones who Christ said, Happy are they… for the Kingdom of God is theirs.

I should not volunteer because I feel obligated to, or feel like I'm doing someone a favor, or to check off a item on my “doing good” list and certainly not just out of pity but I (should) serve because I feel compelled by God's love to share the very grace and love God has graciously shown me; because I am called to serve the people God loves, not just those I love; because Christ modeled a servant leadership.

 

One of the Most Unwelcoming Moments I’ve Witnessed

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On our way home from visiting my parents in Pomona, we stopped by Korea Town in Los Angeles to stock up on Korean groceries, since we now live 1.5 hours away from K-Town.

My wife was doing her thing and I was wandering around the grocery store trying to appease the ADD I always feel at grocery stores. Or, in shopping scenarios in general.

There was a Hispanic lady that was shopping with her young daughter at the store. In a sea of Koreans, it's easy to spot the non-Koreans.

She was shopping and trying some of the samples being offered at the store.

She and her daughter came up to the station that I was standing at wanting a sample of the udon the worker was offering. She went up to the worker and asked, “Can my daughter and I try some?”

The Korean worker, whether she really didn't know English or pretended that she didn't, shrugged and said, “Not ready now.”

The lady then asked, “Oh. Okay. How long until it's ready?”

The worker, now clearly annoyed, for reasons unknown, said sternly, “Not ready now.”

The lady replied, “Understood, but can you tell me how long? 3 minutes? 5 minutes? 10 minutes?”

Then the worker looked at the lady, threw her hands up in the air saying “I don't know” and walked away from her station leaving the lady, her daughter and myself in disbelief.

It was so rude and shocking, I felt myself turning red in shame.

I walked over to her and I said, “Hey, I saw that. So sorry what happened. That was messed up and rude.”

I don't know why I apologized, but I felt a real strong need to apologize on behalf of my people for this lack of hospitality.

The lady looked at me and said, “What can you do, eh? Guess we don't really belong here.”

Ugh. I mean, she said it with a smile, jokingly… but my shame turn to disgust which was made worse when the lady left the udon station, the worker returned to start making udon. Maybe it was coincidence, but the timing was too perfect.

I wanted to say something to her, but I was so annoyed and angry that I don't think it would've been a very productive conversation. If it was true that she didn't speak that much English, and with my Korean being so bad — what communication would there be?

When there were udon samples ready, I actually went looking around the store for the mother and her daughter, but couldn't find them.

But, Cmon! I mean, who treats their customers like that?

You can't expect that ALL your clientele will speak Korean. Heck– a lot of their workers aren't Korean.

But this incident got me thinking about how unwelcoming some churches are, whether intentionally or unintentionally.

I mean, just like the Korean grocery store can't expect all their clientele to be Korean, we can't expect that every Sunday will be filled with folks who've been long time members of our church or long time Christians.

Even if it's just from a psychological point. Once we think that there will no longer be guests/visitors/new folks then we'll probably never have guests/visitors/new folks in worship. Or at least that's how I tend to think.

I have heard of (horror) stories where churches come off as unwelcoming.

Like, when someone who's new sits in the “Johnson's” pew. And when the Johnsons arrive, the new comer is asked to move by the ushers to make way for the people who “rightfully own” that pew.

There have been churches I've stopped by where it was made apparent and known that I had worn the wrong attire to their church. You'd think that denim was from the devil himself.

Something I've been guilty of — assuming that people just know. That people know who I'm talking about when I say, “Go see so-and-so.”

Or when churches use overtly Christianese terminology or inside jokes.

While we may not be able to get rid of all the kinks, the point is that we should try to make our community of faith as welcoming and accessible as possible– for both long time members and first time guests.

We shouldn't foster an environment where people feel ashamed to ask the simplest of questions — “Where's the bathroom?” “Where's coffee fellowship?” “Who's the pastor?” “How long will the udon take?”

Churches, especially, should be a warm, welcoming place that embraces all people, regardless of what stage of life they may be in and/or where they may be in their faith journey.

No matter how different they may look or be from us.

 

Preaching Weekly

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One of the biggest things I had to get adjusted to in my new appointment was preaching on a weekly basis.

In seminary and 2 years in Hawaii (post-seminary), I did preach weekly. But from 2008 – June 2012, I preached about once a month.

During those 4 years, I know those sermons were above average. I don't mean that in an arrogant or prideful way. But, since I had a month to prepare for those messages, those sermons had better be, at the least, good. I had a month to let the sermon sit, boil and stew in my head and heart. I had a month to let the scripture take root in my thoughts. A month to think about illustrations. A month to research. So, yea. It better have been good.

And it was nice preaching once a month. It made me look like a better preacher than I really am.

Nowadays, on Monday morning, I wake up with the preacher's hangover and head into the office, open my Bible and realize, oh, I have another sermon to prepare for.

Now, we preachers know if we did a great job or if we completely missed the mark. It sets a tone for the rest of the Sunday, and quite often, rest of the upcoming week.

There have been days when I leave church thinking, “man, I need to make up for this one” and wish that there was one more service to re-preach that sermon. There are days when I leave church with a sigh of relief, and quite honestly, satisfaction of knowing, “Today, I didn't screw up.”

The church folks, bless their hearts, are (and always have been) encouraging and supportive. There are days I know I didn't do so well, yet they say “What a wonderful sermon that was.” Now, I don't know if they're saying it to be nice, or if they mean it, but it doesn't matter, because I know in my heart that it wasn't my best and would love to do a mulligan.

There are lots of reasons why sermons fall flat on Sunday morning, and it doesn't always have to do with the amount of preparation. Sometimes, you can prepare too much for a sermon. Sometimes, the pressure and adrenaline of not being prepared makes it better (we refer to that as the Spirit taking over). Sometimes, we're thrown off our game because right before worship starts, someone says something idiotic to you or shares some sort of news with you or whatever they say, it just throws us off a bit.

Sometimes, the congregation seems tired and worn out, and their lack of energy becomes contagious, and the room feels… heavy and you feel everyone's weight on your shoulder.

Sometimes, it just wasn't the time for that particular sermon.

While I want nothing more than to have every sermon be a smashing grand slam — that's not always going to be the case, and in no way is that an excuse to slack off or not give it my best. What we need to aim for is consistency– that we are consistently good in our preaching. In a baseball analogy, that we aim to at least get on first base every time we step up to the plate. In football, that we aim to consistently get first downs without turnovers–not every pass has to be a touchdown bomb. In basketball, that we aim to shoot at a high percentage from the field–not every shot can be a miracle half-court buzzer beater. In soccer, — okay I ran out of sports analogies.

There have been days where I just want to crawl into a cave and be away from any and all living things in the world after a Sunday and of course, there have been days where I feel like I'm kicking it with God on cloud 9.

No matter how good we are at something, we're always going to have off days. Everyone has off days. But again, that's not an excuse to keep having off days, but a graceful and gracious reminder: we have next Sunday to improve a bit from the previous Sunday.

We don't let failure go to our hearts, and we shouldn't let success go to our heads.

And, really, it's never about us. It's about God and what God is doing and saying through us.

So whether we preached the heck out of that sermon or we left a lot to be desired for — we shouldn't under estimate the power of God's words spoken through us. At the end of the day, we're just the mouth piece – or as someone said, God once spoke to Balaam through an ass and has been speaking through asses ever since.

Quit Changing Stuff Around, Dagnabbit!

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I've said this many times before on this blog: pastors don't like change either. We like implementing change. But, we don't like change implemented on us. No one does. Change is … different. Even if it is for the better, it takes time to adjust; to mourn and move on; to accept.

People who say, “I love change” are only telling you half the truth. Yes, they love change – but like I said, only when they're the one making the changes. It's easy and fun when you're changing policies and things around. It's much easier if you're the dumper than the dumpee in a relationship.

Those people who claim to “love change” are the same ones who threaten to boycott Facebook every time Facebook implements a change.

Now, about a week ago Madden 13 came out. Here's a (sad) fact: I've bought every single Madden game since it came out I think in like 90, 91. And before that was the Joe Montana football games, as well as Tecmo Bowl.

I really, really, really debated if I wanted to get Madden this year. I mean, did I need another distraction in my life? Did I need something else that will enable me to procrastinate? After a week of discernment, the answer was, “YES.”

Now, I quit playing Madden online. It's too much of a hassle planning to play with people I know, because most of them live in Hawaii, and the time zone difference makes it hard to coordinate. Many online are not gracious losers (or winners for that matter). I don't need my PS3 inbox to be flooded with trash talk of the 4th grade level.

So, my heart and joy in Madden lied within the Franchise mode. I loved it. I loved tweaking things around – like the roster. Making trades. Drafting. Cutting. Signing free agents. I also, always, loved creating myself and putting me on the Redskins roster. Sometimes as a Quarterback, sometimes as a receiver. I don't make a super me – where all my attributes and skills are at a 99 rating (the maximum). But I take an above average player and copy their attributes (say, take a Jay Cutler and copy his ratings for me). Or, I'd take Tom Brady's ratings and use them for me as a quarterback. But to offset that unfairness, I trade away my top players on offense for rookies of the same position.

And while I'm doing all this mundane stuff on the franchise mode, my mind wanders off thinking about upcoming meetings, recent interactions, the previous meetings, and other church business.

So, I was looking forward to diving into the franchise mode again. I also found out that I can actually upload my face on to my EAsports account and have it downloaded into Madden and actually “be” in the game. “Hot dog!” I thought. This was, indeed, going to be awesome. So I immediately went online and logged onto my EAsports account and started creating away.

Here's the result:

Alright. That works for me, I thought. And started creating myself only to disturbingly discover that the franchise mode that I knew and loved was no longer an option. Instead was this thing called “Connected Career” mode.

I can't used my updated roster for my franchise. If I want to use me, I have to basically go through the Superstar mode from previous Madden.

I sat there, stunned. And annoyed. I didn't know what to do. I never liked the career/superstar mode. I liked my franchise mode. You can't edit players anymore on the “franchise” mode (I have a thing with numbers. If I trade for Troy Polamalu, I need, NEED, him to be #43 on the Redskins as well. If someone already on the Redskins is 43, in previous Maddens, you can edit their numbers. In 13? Not so much). And I kept thinking, what was the point of this? Why did they do this? Why did they get rid of the franchise mode?

And, of course, I'm stuck with the game. Once opened, you can only exchange for the same title. So I have to learn to adapt and find ways to play Madden. And, dangit, after dropping $64 on Madden, I will learn to love it.

Now, there are changes that need to be made within our church.

Then, there are changes that I want to make – just because it suits my leadership and personality better.

But the Madden 13 was a rude awakening about implementing change, whether out of necessity or for sanity's sake. Here I am, googling on why EA would make such a change, without any luck. Many are also complaining and petitioning EA to figure out ways to add in a patch for people to download to restore the franchise mode as we love it- which if possible, would be cool and appreciated.

I was affirmed in my belief, nobody really likes change. We all love implementing change.

Change also needs to be communicated. We need to let people know what is changing, why it's changing and what is staying the same.

And, sometimes, it takes time. Other times, it needs time. A lot of us pastors see something and we want to make a change right here, right now. We can end up being dismissive of things: “You guys do it that way? Really? No. We're doing it this way from now.” It helps to know why things were done a certain way before uprooting everything. Communication is vital. In our discussions, we can also learn that the change we were so desperate to make, isn't really necessary and that we, as pastors, are the only ones to benefit from the change we want to make.

We all know that change is inevitable in our lives.

In churches, we can't stay the same forever, which is why many UMC's are struggling to survive– they've been the same church since the '70's. Only God is (and should be) the same yesterday, today and tomorrow. Church traditions, if not careful, can only contain yesterdays and we can inadvertently box God in our yesterdays and make God seem outdated and irrelevant to our lives today.

At the same time, changes doesn't have to be completely painful. We, as leaders, can do a lot to make the transitions smoother, or at least informative and help them see what is happening, what is changing, why it's happening and what will remain the same.

I would've appreciated to hear why EA sports did away with the franchise mode as I knew it. Would I've agree with it? Maybe. Maybe not. But it's better than having it sprung on me the way it was.

I also hope, that, as pastor of St. Mark, I remember all the words I just typed and help the congregation move along with the changes we need to make to be the church God wants us to be, instead of forcing changes upon them without knowledge or discussion.

Well. It looks like I'll just have to coach RGIII to lead the way and hope to rack up coaching awards and prestige in the coaching mode of Connected Careers.

 

Embrace the Remix

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The video is from a TED talk entitled “Embrace the Remix.” It’s about 10 minutes long, so check it out if you have time. And want to.

Kirby’s main argument is that everything is, basically, a remix. Creativity comes from without more than within. We’re influenced by the things out there. Henry Ford invented the automobile building upon the work of others before him. Kirby quotes Steve Job quoting Picaso saying that “good artists copy, great artists steal.” Unless, someone steals from you. Kirby then has a quote from Jobs vowing to destroy Android for stealing from Jobs.

Years ago, I decided that I needed to take preaching a bit more serious. In seminary, I was a notorious procrastinator. I still am, but not as bad nor notorious. On top of the school work, I had to preach weekly, too. I used to wait until Saturday evening to start my sermon prep. Praying for the Spirit to inspire me and take over so that the words would just flow. I lied by telling myself that I work best under pressure. I mean, there’s some truth to that. But more often than not, the outcome of the pressurized work wasn’t the greatest.

Still years ago, my computer crashed before I backed any of it up (including some valuable/memorable/important pictures. Oops). But one thing I don’t miss is the sermons from that period of my life. I cringe thinking about what kind of sermons they were (I can’t really remember, except for a few), and can’t imagine my response from actually reading those sermons.

I begin to realize that I was doing God and the people listening to me a huge disservice by procrastinating on my sermon, thereby making it an afterthought in my life. So I decided that I really needed to work on this craft.

I so desperately wanted to be original and creative in my preaching.

You want to frustrate yourself endlessly? Try forcing and stressing yourself to be something you are not.

I’m not that creative. I’m not that original. I’m not that much of a scholar. I’m not that innovative.

But here I am, stressing myself out completely by trying to figure out how to present something in a fresh and new and unique and memorable way to the people.

I have a few sermons from that chapter of my life, but I dare not to read it, either. The cringe-worthy level is probably a 9 (out of 10).

My sanity would betray me if I kept forcing myself to be something I am inherently not. By then though, I discovered something. Though I may not be that creative, original, innovative, yada yada, I did know (and do know) that I’m a decent story teller. (One of my favorite stories to tell is Johnny and his 2 pink ping pong balls. Consequently, it’s my wife’s least favorite. And that’s putting it mildly. She leaves the room when I start telling this story. So remind me to tell you, one day.)

And here’s something else I discovered: Not everyone’s a church nerd like me. At least within the congregation. These kids and people didn’t spend their work and free time perusing the Bible and other resources for sermon ideas. The stories I’ve heard 100 of times through other preachers, books and classes – the people I was preaching to would’ve heard them for the first time.

It was also during this time, I started discovering great pastors and speakers around the country.

I realized that I could (re)tell their sermons very well. So started a point in my life where I would shamelessly (and I mean shamelessly) use other preacher’s sermons (like Adam Hamilton’s). Word for word. And my delivery would be different, based on who I was stealing from. If it was Adam Hamilton, there was an Adam-ness to my preaching. If it was Francis Chan, my voice inflections would mimic his. If it was Rob Bell’s, my pauses would be more exaggerated. Although, to this day, my pauses are still long and exaggerated, much like his. Actually, there’s a lot of my delivery that has been influenced by Bell. I used to be annoyed that I couldn’t stop doing it, because it was so engrained in me. It felt like organic, like it was me. So, I embraced it. Who knows, maybe I would still do those certain things, even if I have never watched him.

The sermons were pretty good, of course. But after a while, something inside me started gnawing at me. Call it the Spirit or a bad burrito, but I couldn’t ignore it. Not only was I being a fraud, but I was blatantly stealing. It would be one thing to give those preachers I shamelessly stole from credit. But I didn’t. I passed it as my own. I knew that I couldn’t live with myself if I kept desecrating the integrity of speaking, and particularly the mind-daunting task of preaching God’s words, by relentlessly stealing and pretending these words were from me, inspired by God when it was Adam’s (or Francis’ or Rob’s or Erwin’s) God-inspired words.

These days, I feel like there’s a good blend of ideas from within and without. But, even those ideas from within me, I know they came from somewhere else. Reading. Listening to other people of faith. Blogs. My wife. My parents.

And, now, when we do borrow sermon series from other pastors, I don’t use their sermon word for word, but use their sermons as a spring board for my own line of thinking.

I’m okay with thinking that all of my great ideas aren’t 100% my ideas (that is, when I feel like I have some what of a great original idea), but have been influenced by others who have gone before me or my contemporaries.

Recently, our ex-intern called me and asked what I was preaching on. I think it might’ve been my last sermon at my former church. And after I told him what the sermon was about, he said, “Dude. Cool. I’m going to steal it.” And I replied, “Go ahead. I’m pretty sure I stole a lot of it, too. But I’m still going to charge you.” (I don’t know if he ever used it, but since I never got paid, I assume he didn’t. :P )

While this can raise a lot of ethical questions, for sanity’s sake, let’s not go there, please. At least not now. Feel free to start your own blog post on the ethics of using other people’s sermon, though. I’ll read it.

I am still learning about my voice and who I am as a preacher. I am still trying to, if you will, “master” this craft of preaching and story-telling. I’m very much a student, and I don’t think I’ll ever be the master. And I’m totally okay with that.

I’m also totally okay with the notion “there’s nothing new under the sun.” But we can take things that we already know and remix it, adding our own flavor and personality into it– and maybe try to present an old idea in new or modern or your ways, which is what many of the Christian authors and preachers do, anyhow.

The greatest story ever told has… already been told… so embrace the remix.

The Folks in the Bible

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A lot of people ask me what’s my favorite book of the Bible, and I don’t really have one.
Of course, I make something up… I’ll say Mark or Luke, or Philippians, or Revelations just to see what reaction I’ll get.

But the truth is, I don’t have a favorite book of the Bible. Because it’s all good, silly.

I know people who spend most of their quiet or devotional time reading any of the Gospels or Epistles or Acts (so, yea, the New Testament).

But, I like to spend my devotional times reading the narrative stories and I like reading about the people God called in the Bible. Abraham. Moses. David. Saul. Samuel.

In Sunday school, we were led to believe that these folks in the Bible were just great women and men, and that’s why God called them. They’re in the Bible because they were the Michael Jordans of faith related things in their time.

Maybe that’s why the Bible had no interest for me during my teenage years. Because it was impossible to be that good and strong in faith. Maybe that’s why some folks just don’t read the Bible, because all we remember is how great these people were and there’s no way we can live up to that.

But what draws me, now, to those stories is just how human these folks were. How flawed they were. How confused and unsure they were. How broken they were. How normal they were.

I mean Peter, as a disciple, was a bit moronic. And constantly stuck his foot in his mouth. David broke 5 commandments in one chapter of the Bible. Solomon had 700 wives and 300 concubines (you can enter a snarky comment on what Biblical idea of marriage here, if you like). Abraham lied about his wife being his sister. Twice. Isaac ended up doing the same thing. Moses was a short tempered murderer. Esther had to be really convinced by Mordecai before she did the right thing.

I mean, they are normal. Their struggles aren’t foreign or trapped in their time. I struggle with things they struggled with today.

By no means, were these people perfect (except, you know, Jesus).
But the beauty of it is that God still choose them to lead the way.
They were ordinary folks, but it was God and through God that they did extraordinary things.

Starting next (next) Sunday (the 26th), our church is going to do a sermon series on the people of the Bible (the heroes and heroines, if you will). We’ll be talking about Moses, Hannah, David, Esther and Joseph this time around. I’m sure that we’ll come visit some more later in the future.

But I’m excited to share their stories (the good, the bad, the ugly and the amazing) with my folks at church.

So… Now What?

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So that happened this weekend.

It was an end of a long, often frustrating journey that began in 2007 and a journey I often blogged about. (I just realized I’m almost tall as the Bishop kneeling… but I digress). Each time I was continued (read: didn’t pass/failed) I wondered why I was going through all this and contemplated pursuing ordination elsewhere. This year, I entered the process for what I really believed would be the last time. I resolved that I would always be Wesleyan at heart no matter where I ended up and more importantly, I firmly believed that God had called me into ministry and that can take place anywhere, even if it meant outside of the UMC.

Maybe it was all in my head, but this time, the exams and interviews weren’t as draining as they were in the previous 2 years. And you know what they say, 3rd time is a charm. Or whatever.

I understand that when I was eligible for full connection, I entered the process very angry and with a huge chip on my shoulder accompanied by an air of arrogance and an ego the size of … something big. (I’m tired… )

I entered the first year of examinations with a closed fist ready to fight. I entered this year’s examination with open hands and heart, not in the sense that I was willing to really “listen” to what the Board of Ordained Ministry had to say and sell my soul for their acceptance (not that that’s ever the case), but in the sense I turned everything over to God and said, “Where you lead, I will go.”

During my commissioned years, I joked (read: threatened) that when I finally get ordained, I’m going to no longer hold back my words, but instead, say everything that has eaten at my heart since I started this journey in 2007. Everything that I saw wrong with our system and our methodology, I was going to vocalize it, maybe through this blog, maybe through emails, maybe to people who would be willing to listen. I had a lot on my chest, and I couldn’t wait to get that weight off my mind.

So. Now that it’s all said and done and I’m ordained, well… I have nothing to say. Well, no, more truthfully, I have nothing constructive to say.

Sure, we know that our church is broken. Anyone who steps into a UM church can see that something may be wrong. We’re not as big and strong as we used to be. We insiders know that our system and methodology is flawed and a lot of it, broken.

There’s no point of beating a dead horse with a stick.

And I sure as hell don’t want to be “THAT GUY” who does nothing but criticizes his ‘employer’ but isn’t willing to do anything about it.

Instead, I’m filled with gratitude. I’m thankful for all the people who helped me along this long journey. From all the mentors I had to my senior pastors to all the lay folks who encouraged me and then were so excited for me that I (finally) passed, to the ‘unofficial’ mentors, to my friends and colleagues who let me bitch about things and gave me solid words of comfort, advice and critique, to my family, and especially to my wife, who really … well, I know that I couldn’t have gotten through any of it without her. She saw it all. The anger, the frustrations, the lows, the ups… she encouraged me when I needed, scolded me when that was needed, pushed me, made sure I was sharply dressed for my interviews… she kept me sane in moments where I wanted to bounce off walls. Or more truthfully, bounce other people’s heads off walls.

And of course, I’m humbled that God would still call me into ministry; that for some reason, God has faith in me to lead His people.

In the end, words are cheap. Any Joe the Plumber can host a blog and point out everything wrong with the world today.

So really, the time has come for me to do more than just talk.

Come July, I no longer have the safety net of the Senior Pastor covering my ass. As someone said, “You won’t have a higher pay check to defer to” which has been my favorite thing to do as an associate pastor.

As the days approach closer, the butterflies in my stomach grow bigger. At times I feel inadequate. Other times I feel ill-equipped, to the fault of no one. I mean, all the books and classes in the world can’t fully prepare you for the real life thing. Experience has always been the best (and often cruelest) teacher. We learn as we go. Mistakes will be made. But one hopes that we learn from our mistakes and that it propels us forward instead of chaining us inside a cage of fear, insecurity and/or indecision.

And of course, I’m excited. I’m excited to see what God has plans for me and St. Mark.

I’m excited to go back to where I lived as an early teenager.

I find peace in the midst of my anxiety and excitement in the faith and knowledge that God has truly called me to this church, and that God has a plan for me and for the church– that all of this is God’s plan for this part of my life.

And I come in without too much greed in the sense that I want to go and add numbers to our pew. Instead, my hopes and dreams is to be a place where transformation through faith, grace and love happens. I don’t have desires to become one of the biggest churches in our city and our conference. But I have a deep desire in being a relevant and effective church that works with its community to bring transformation through God’s message of hope, love and grace. Simply put, my hope and prayer is to “make disciples for the transformation of the world.”

Now that I have the “freedom” to say anything I want without the fear of someone on the BOOM being angry with me, it’s funny that I don’t want to say anything without any warrant. Past Me might be a little annoyed with Present Me…

My wife, a few years ago, got me this art thing and hung it in my office so that I would see it everyday as I sit in front of my desk. It’s a often quoted quote from Gandhi: You must be the change you wish to see in the world.

What a fitting quote for the start of this new chapter in my life.