A Hand at Our Back

Some years ago I took a week-long preaching class in Berkeley, Calif., taught by Tom Long (who retired recently from Emory’s Candler School of Theology). Excellent class. Tom is a gifted preacher and teacher. It was a great experience for me.

One of the requirements for the week was that each of us preach a sermon to the others in the class. Of course everyone is always a little nervous about this kind of thing, but one woman—a young seminary student named Lyddie—was particularly terrified. We encouraged her all through the week, assuring her of our support and prayers. But on the final day when it came her turn to preach, Lyddie was all but paralyzed with fear. At the moment when Tom Long called her name, she emitted a small gasp that I could hear from across the room. She slowly stood with a look of dread on her face, steadied herself on her feet, then walked to the front of the room and took her place behind the small pulpit.

“ As she talked of how this teacher’s witness had led to her conversion, Lyddie began to weep. Then she began to sob. She stood there, rooted to the floor, unable to continue.”

About midway through the sermon Lyddie began to tell a story about a Sunday School teacher from her childhood, and of the difference the elderly saint had made in her young life. As she talked of how this teacher's witness had led to her conversion, Lyddie began to weep. Then she began to sob. She stood there, rooted to the floor, unable to continue. The rest of us were desperately trying to figure out how to encourage Lyddie but didn't know quite what to do. Until one of our classmates—an older, African American woman named Rose—stood up, crossed the floor and quietly pulled up a chair directly behind the pulpit. Without saying a word, Rose placed her hand solidly against Lyddie's back, lowered her head, closed her eyes and began to pray silently for the weeping young woman.

The effect was immediately visible. Lyddie took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, then leaned into the rest of that sermon with a confidence and strength that surprised the whole class. Rose eventually removed her hand from Lyddie's back and remained quietly seated there with her head bowed until the sermon was finished. Then she stood up and without a word, returned to her seat.

Often since that day I have thought about Lyddie and Rose, and of the very real power of Christ that flows like an electric current through the Church. I have had, in moments of anguish or doubt or grief, the experience of feeling the strengthening presence of a sister or brother coming to stand beside me. The smallest encouraging word or gesture has, at times, felt like a hand against my back, re-charging my anxious heart with the very courage and power of Christ. I want to be more a conveyer of grace like that. May God help us to be that for each other.

Grace and peace,

The First 100 Days

This week I’m pausing to reflect on my first thirty-five days at First Baptist, and to think ahead toward the next sixty-five. Bill Wilson from the Center for Healthy Churches says, “The first 100 days of a new pastorate are a precious resource that should be thoughtfully and carefully spent by the pastor and the congregation.” The CHC publishes a list of key priorities for pastors and congregations in their first hundred days together. I’ve been keeping an eye on that list as I’ve moved through these first weeks, and want to share with you some of my key priorities and hopes for this important season:

People (Internal)

• Keep learning people’s names. (Nametags on Sundays would be such a big help!)
• Identify the 25 key leaders in the congregation with whom I need to have an individual conversation in my first 100 days.
• Conduct individual meetings with each staff member. First 20 days.
• Meet with established groups (Church Council, Committees, Deacons, etc.).
• Visit each Church School class on Sunday mornings. First 90 days.
• Meet with key worship leaders (Sunday morning & Mosaic). First 40 days.
• Establish a healthy pattern of offering pastoral care in conjunction with staff and lay teams. First 100 days.
• Meet at least twice with Search Committee representatives to check in and see if expectations are being met.  

People (External)

• Identify key community leaders with whom I need to meet. Days 50-100. Need congregational help with this. 
• Seek out connections with area clergy. Days 40-100.
• Connect with local and state denominational leaders.  Days 30-100. 

Personal

• Continue with Tim the ongoing process of nurturing and strengthening our marriage.
• Help Taylor adjust to his new home in DC. 
• Support and care for Lucy (she’s not able to come home from college as often as when we lived in Atlanta).
• Establish a predictable weekly schedule, including healthy work and personal time boundaries. (I’m observing Thursdays as my weekly day off.)
• Exercise regularly.
• Connect with and schedule first meeting with a spiritual director. First 30 days.
• Plan for the eventual move from our temporary apartment into a home in the District. 

I welcome your input on these! In all that we do and all that we are, may our first 100 days—and all the years ahead—honor God and embody the way of Jesus. 

Grace and peace…

Language Lessons

This winter I’m learning a new language. Nope, it’s not Italian, French or Farsi. I’m not listening to some Berlitz instructor parse verbs in German. This one’s more difficult: I’m learning to speak Windows. Now that I’m officially your pastor, I can make this confession: I’m a Mac user. Ever since that memorable day 25 years ago when I first pressed a computer “on” button, it’s been Apple all the way. 

So when D’O Dillard let me know, in the gentlest way possible, that First Baptist DC office operates in a PC world, I’ll admit I was a bit up-ended. “Tim!” I wailed, “I don’t know how to be a pastor on a Dell!” Luckily we figured out a compromise solution: I can keep my Mac and work in Windows—thanks be to God.

Truth is, I’m learning a lot more than Windows these days. After almost nine years of speaking Georgia, Atlanta (or Atlanna) and First Baptist Decatur, I’m learning how to speak “DMV” and The First Baptist Church of the City of Washington, DC.

“Every church is in the befriending business.”

And as anyone knows who’s ever studied a new language, before you speak it you must first listen. I’ve got some listening to do as we walk together. It will take some time to become more proficient. But as I listen for your particular rhythm and meter, and the inflections and intonations of FBC’s unique dialect, God will open my ears. 

In that vein, here is a missional question: What language is our church’s neighborhood speaking, and is First Baptist engaged in language lessons of its own? Parlez-vous Dupont Circle? ¿Habla usted Millennial? Sprechen Sie Embassy Row? Every church is in the befriending business. Learning someone else’s language opens the door to deeper connections and cross-cultural friendships. This is going to be fun.

Listening for the One whose first language is Love…

Beginner’s Mind

Tomorrow morning I’m going to slip a clerical robe over my shoulders and drape a green liturgical stole around my neck. I will line up behind the choir, along with the other pastors and liturgists, process up an impossibly long center aisle in a neo-Gothic sanctuary and take my assigned seat in the divided chancel. Later in worship I’ll climb a circular set of stairs into a pulpit as high as Rapunzel’s tower.

This is new for me.

And I love that.

I’m crazy about this new adventure because, for one thing, it’s grounding me in the reality that the gospel is true and transformative in every culture—including worship cultures. The heart of God beats in country churches and cathedrals, in darkened theaters and beachside pavilions. The Spirit of Christ is at home among hand-clappers and genuflectors; the Good News sings through guitar amps and organ pipes.

I also love this moment because it offers me a chance to experience again the childlike delight and curiosity of a beginner’s mind. Nothing blocks the spiritual path like the assumption that we already know, or that we have nothing more to learn. Yesterday one of the other pastors at our church kindly led me through the considerable choreography of a worship service at First Baptist Church of Washington DC. My awkwardness reminded me of the ballroom dance lessons Tim and I took years ago: “Step here…turn here…cross the floor and pause.” I imagine there’ll be some missteps tomorrow, but what fun it is to learn!

Mostly, by taking a chance on the unfamiliar, I’m invited again to rely on that which is most true—to rest in the essence of faith. I love the way Richard Rohr puts it: “God’s life of love is being lived within you, and you must simply learn how to say yes to that life. If you exist on a level where you can see how ‘everything belongs,’ you can trust the flow and trust the life.”

Good and gracious God, let me find you in all people and things…and be found by you in every moment. That is enough.

The Church is Worth the Effort

After nearly eight months of church-homelessness, I am so looking forward to Sunday and to this new beginning together. It’s hard for me to fully convey my joy at plunging in with this flesh-and-blood expression of the body of Christ at the corner of 16th and O. Perhaps these words from a friend of mine in Georgia, pastor Bill Self, who died this week after a battle with ALS, say it best: 

"I still love the church. I love the church universal, as well as the church local (red brick, white-columned with deacons smoking in the parking lot). With all of its dysfunction and flesh marks, with all of its confusion and humanity, it is still the best thing God has going for Him in this world. We do have a treasure in earthen vessels.

The church is a solid oak tree, not a fragile tea cup. It has withstood Roman Imperialism, Jewish legalism, pagan optimism, medieval institutionalism, the excesses of the reformers, wars and rumors of wars, a youth quake, modern skepticism, southern provincialism, resurgent fundamentalism, and heresies in each generation that seem never to die. 

[The church] can withstand anything our generation can throw at it.
It has been victimized by unprepared and selfish clergy, tone-deaf musicians, manipulative members, argumentative deacons, demanding denominations, unloving reformers, and greedy politicians. Still it continues to provide love, affirmation and community to the fallen in the face of alienation. The church is worth the effort."

~ Bill Self, The Church Is Worth the Effort, preached at First Baptist
   Church of Pensacola, FL, May 4, 2014

The church is a treasure in earthen vessels and your new pastor is as “earthen” as they come. Thanks in advance for your patience with me in the days ahead. Thanks most of all for your commitment to this beautiful, homely, graceful, awkward, inspiring, frustrating, living, breathing embodiment-of-Christ-on-earth. 

Here we go!