Sunday Online

The other day a friend said: “This last week has been the longest year of my life.”

It feels like that, doesn’t it? It wasn’t long ago that we were following Super Tuesday results, arguing with Joe Lunardi’s college basketball predictions, and gearing up for spring high school sports.

… which feels like a lifetime ago.

Since that time, we’ve all learned a new vocabulary (social distancing and “shelter in place,” for starters), watched way too much Netflix, grown to appreciate teachers more than ever before, and claimed work as a gift.

We’ve also started to think in new ways about how to love and care for each other. We’ve learned to value FaceTime, hand-written cards, and long walks. Our group of neighbors are enjoying social time at the end of each day — outside, properly distanced from each other!

And we’re gaining a new-found appreciation for worship. More specifically, virtual worship.

Worshipping online. We began worshipping online Christmas 2018. What started as a single camera in the sanctuary’s balcony soon turned into three cameras that are controlled by a single operator from the sound booth. By the end of last year, our online audience had increased from 30 to over 150 each week — which means that 150 devices were tuning into the 11:00 service through our website, Facebook, or YouTube.

How fortunate we have been to test drive online worship this past year. We certainly weren’t thinking about a global pandemic when we began, but over a year’s worth of experience made it relatively easy to transition to a fully online experience on March 15.

Is virtual the same as live? Of course not. But what we’re hearing is that people are craving worship, even if it’s from a TV set, phone, or computer screen. On March 15 alone, 1250 devices logged into our worship service. The next Wednesday evening, 250 devices logged into our Lenten worship service.

One thing seems so very clear: In times like these, people long for worship.

Creating Sacred Space. Last Sunday evening, I sat with my family in front of the TV as we watched our worship service on YouTube. It was different, no doubt. Half-way through, I looked around the room to see Matt laid out on the couch, Carter on the carpet, Anna curled up under a blanket, Krista returning from the kitchen with a glass of water and I, well, before I knew it I was checking text messages on my phone.

Which begs the question: How do we create sacred space for virtual worship?

The answer depends on your context and your family dynamics, of course, but a few general thoughts come to mind:

1. Define your space. If you have more than one TV, consider choosing a site that is not often used for casual TV use. Maybe that’s a living room, or even around a dining room table. Wherever you choose, declutter and remove distractions in order to create a sense of sacred space.
2. Establish a ritual. I love the idea of families lighting candles as we begin online worship. Or make the sign of the cross on your body. Tangible signs help the body and soul enter into the fullness of worship.
3. Dress for worship. I’ll probably get laughed at for this one but consider the value of “getting dressed” for worship. 

I remember visiting an elderly lady when I was on my internship in Virginia. She lived alone in an old farmhouse, unable to worship with us on Sunday mornings. We sat in her kitchen and chatted. She was wearing a simple smock dress; I was in my usual attire. When I asked if she wanted to share in holy communion, she asked to be excused and went back to what I assumed was her bedroom. She was gone for 10-15 minutes. I started to get nervous. Then this lovely woman emerged, having changed into a new pair of clothes, with makeup and combed hair. “My mom always taught me to dress for worship,” she said. I’ll never forget it.

“Dressing for worship” might not be meaningful or necessary for you, but at the very least I would encourage you to be intentional about how you approach virtual worship. Otherwise we stand the risk of “watching” worship rather than fully participating in it.

These are uncertain days. Our hope and prayer is that we can be fully present as the Body of Christ, caring for each other, loving each other, and, yes, worshipping together.

Even if you have to start by searching “SJLC” on your favorite mobile device.

Be of Good Courage

I look forward to a day that doesn’t begin with a coronavirus update. I’m sure you do, too.

Everyone has been affected or inconvenienced in one way or another. First and foremost, we lift up those who have been diagnosed with the virus, those around the world who have died, and families who have been torn apart by the loss of life. My daily inconveniences pale in comparison to what they are going through.

Likewise, those who have lost jobs or whose income has been severely restricted, who are now stressing over making rent or buying food. I’ve heard some beautiful stories of landlords halting rent for the foreseeable future and neighbors providing food for each other. And special kudos to our school system for providing breakfast and lunch to students who otherwise might not have a healthy meal to eat. School bus drivers and teachers never imagined using bus routes to transport hot meals to kids, but that’s what they’re doing every day of the week.

I’m sensitive to those who have lost loved ones during this crisis, who have made the hard decision of delaying funerals or staging small, family-only graveside services.

And what about those with wedding plans? Everything has changed, no doubt.

And our high school seniors? I’m particularly sensitive to that one, of course, because I have a high school senior at home. Spring sports, proms, and all kinds of seniors-only activities have been cancelled, although principals have assured this class of 2020 that they’ll think in creative ways to make sure their senior year is remembered positively.

That applies to our college seniors, too. Walking across the graduation stage is something you remember the rest of your life. I have no doubt they’ll find other ways to commemorate this special achievement, but still ….

How do we navigate our way through all the loss? I’m going to sound extremely sappy right now but bear with me: Be together. Social distancing doesn’t mean social isolation, but it does demand that we think in creative ways. Sure, watch movies together, FaceTime together, send handwritten notes to each other, surprise each other with a special message or treat or gift. Be particularly aware of those in your “world” who live alone. Prepare a meal for Rowan Helping Ministries and take it to them (that’s a BIG need, by the way). Call a teacher and say thanks. In other words, show that we’re all in this together.

There’s a story of Jesus and his disciples in a boat on the Sea of Galilee. When a storm broke out, the disciples were terribly afraid, but found that Jesus was asleep – wondering, perhaps, if Jesus didn’t care.

What the disciples soon realized was that Jesus, even then, was preparing to bring calm to their storm. His first words were these: “Do not be afraid, for I am with you.” In other words, we’re all in this together.

… which gives us every reason in the world to be of good courage, even though life isn’t going as planned. Be of good courage, friends, because together we’ll make it. God promises us that.

Our very best to you and yours.

A new generation of ministry

I sure hope you'll be joining us tonight for our Campaign Dinner in fellowship hall. It's a great opportunity to enjoy some great food, even better fellowship, and to better understand the importance of our G2G phase 2 campaign.

Many of you have already made a commitment to the campaign. Others are waiting until Commitment Sunday on February 23. To all, thank you for your commitment to preparing space for a new generation of ministry.

I'm not sure who helped to build my elementary school or Lineberger Park in Gastonia -- where I spent my first 7 years -- but I know it took a committed group of folks who had kids like me in mind. I'm not sure who drew up the plans for Robinwood Lake or Lutheran Chapel Church, but I know it took a group of faithful men and women who dreamed of future generations being woven into the fabric of that community.

That's how I think of this campaign. Future generations may not remember our names, but they will be formed, encouraged, cared for, challenged, and immensely blessed because of our commitment today.

Thank you for who you are and the important work you do at St. John's and in this community! We hope to see you tonight.

Ripping up the speech

This has been a politics-heavy week.

Final votes on the impeachment trial are due today. Monday was loaded with the Iowa caucuses and the drama of counting ballots (still not complete). Last night was the State of the Union, with the Speaker of the House ripping up the president's speech and the President refusing to shake her hand. 

That's a lot to process in three days!

If ten of us were to meet for lunch and talk about it all, I'm pretty sure we'd have ten different opinions. I HOPE we wouldn't end up in a food fight, but these days, well, you never know. Tensions are high, compromise is nearly non-existent, and kindness is nowhere to be seen.

Through this roaring sea of change, I find myself repeating a mantra I learned as a kid in Sunday School: "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forevermore" (Hebrews 13:8). As policies shift and tempers rise, I lean more and more into the sure and steady presence of Christ, a "peace that passes all understanding" (Philippians 4:7). As I become more and more distressed about the state of politics, hoping/waiting for an adult to enter the room, I remind myself that God's great desire is "that we might have life, and have it abundantly" (John 10:10).

I hope that you see your faith (and your church) as a counterbalance to the chaotic seas around us. That's why we gather in the early morning of the first day of the week -- so that your week might begin from a place of peace and rest, after having been reminded of God's great love for you and this world. We're fed simple gifts of bread and wine, we're forgiven of sins that weigh us down, and we're joined together with a much broader family of Christ. I'm so very thankful for that weekly rhythm. To be honest, I'm not sure how I'd get through the week without it.

This week we'll focus on being a "light to the world." We certainly need some light these days! I'll look forward to seeing you in church.

Doggone good leaders

To quote Roy Williams, our church leaders are doggone good. 

I don’t mean that to sound overly cocky, just honest. This past weekend was our annual Leaders Retreat (Jan 24-25), where members of Council, staff, and some key leaders of the church gathered to establish priorities for the coming year (Friday evening) and engage in leadership development on Saturday morning. Even though I lead these retreats, I do my best not to show up with pre-determined priorities. I’m far more interested in seeing how a new crew (and every year is new) approaches the very basic question: What are our three priorities for the coming year? 

We reviewed our congregation’s strengths and opportunities, considered what’s on the horizon for our community, and identified under-impacted audiences. Armed with all that data, we divided into small groups and asked them to dream a little. They filled four newsprints with ideas, which were then whittled down into three buckets/themes: 

1.     Rethink the Sunday Morning Experience,

2.     Discipleship in the Digital Age, and 

3.     A Faith-Filled Approach to Abundant Living for All. 

These three priorities will be further developed at next week’s Staff Retreat, and then considered by each of the five ministry groups in developing goals for the 2020-21 ministry year.

More than you want to know? I get it! But at the very least it’s important to see that planning for robust ministry takes great prayer, discernment, intentionality, and planning. 

And good leaders. We’re blessed with some really good leaders. Doggone good. 

Speaking of which, special kudos to a trio of folks who guided us through the “leadership development” portion of our retreat: Mike Edwards, Dr. Cyndi Osterhus, and Mark Ritchie. They bring a wealth of experience to building leaders, and we’re grateful for their eagerness to building a culture of leadership development at St. John’s. 

And there’s more. Kudos, as well, to a group of 7 of our folks who have just completed part 1 of our Young Leaders Cohort. The goal is to identify, build, and equip early career adults to thrive in their vocation, community, and congregation. Part 1 includes four months of weekly gatherings, bookended by two retreats. In part 2, these young leaders are yoked with a vocational mentor for 1x1 mentoring between now and May. It’s a great process, and I can’t say enough about the character and competency of the participants. If you’d like to join a future cohort, just let me know. 

We take leadership development very seriously at St. John’s. It’s a long process with lots of starts and stops, but the investment of time and resources is necessary as we build a new generation of leaders for the church and community. From generation to generation. Sound familiar? I hope so. 

Blessings to you as we continue to plant trees under whose shade future generations will sit. 

on local elections

I’m writing this note three hours before the polls close on this year’s elections. Odd-numbered years aren’t normally very exciting, but don’t tell that to those running for local offices. They’ve spent long hours shaking hands, hosting events, planting signs, and writing Facebook posts … all for the sake of serving the communities they love so much. 

I don’t yet know who will win our local elections, but I have to hand it to all those who throw their hats in the ring. It represents a high level of commitment to our neighbors, schools, parks, rec centers, public servants, and business partners. They are committed to our shared history, to government efficiency, and to making sure all our voices are heard. No doubt, they love this place. 

No matter who wins – and by the time you read this letter, we’ll all know – let’s pledge to support and encourage our elected officials, whoever they may be. And when that time comes to disagree, as it surely will, let’s do so from a place of common ground: that we’re on this journey together, all of us eager to make this community a better place. 

Thanks for your good work in the garden. 

The funeral of a friend

It’s November, which begs one simple question: Where did October go?!?

October is normally one of my favorite months. Cooler weather, colorful leaves, nights on the porch that beg for a sweater or a pair of wool socks. 

But not this October. I’m pretty sure it was 98 degrees one day and 62 the next. Not much transition at all for Mother Nature this year. 

Sometimes life surprises you. My preaching professor in seminary said that we have to be prepared for the occasional left-handed junk ball. I never played much baseball, but I always remembered his vivid description of the junk ball, a pitch designed to throw off a hitter’s timing because it’s either significantly slower and/or has confusing movement between the pitcher’s hand and the catcher’s glove. 

Life throws left-handed junk balls at you sometimes. 

Early October I was surprised with a phone call from a friend who told me that our close friend, Paul, had just died. 54 years old. Totally unexpected. It threw me for a loop during a pretty busy time of our year. A playground campaign, Consecration Sunday, G2G, a new staff member, expanding our 3^rd grade reading model to other schools, bringing the racial equity workshops to Rowan County. I didn’t have a choice but to keep busy …

… until the funeral. Krista and I took the day off and drove to Grace Moravian Church in Mt. Airy, a church on the outskirts of the neighborhood where Paul grew up. We passed his high school, some local hangouts, and the business his dad owned downtown. When we walked in the sanctuary, I was handed a bulletin … and that’s when it hit me. As we do with every funeral bulletin we print at St. John’s, there was Paul’s name in bold letters, the date of his birth and death directly below it. 

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

I have the privilege – and often the terrible misfortune – of walking with a lot of people through some very dark patches of life. The left-handed junk balls you’ve experienced are sometimes overwhelming and can seem down-right confusing.

Many of you have done the same, in far more profound and remarkable ways. You’ve prayed, cooked, cleaned, driven, and sacrificed time and resources .. all for the sake of walking alongside a friend in need. 

And here’s what’s beautiful. You’ll earn nothing for your care. There are no extra jewels for your crown or fast-passes through the heavenly gates. That’s not why you care. You care because God cares. 

“We love because God first loved us,” John writes (1 John 4:19). Our love is to be a reflection of God’s love, a love given without expectation of reward or recognition. It’s like grits served with a good, Southern breakfast. You don’t order it; it just comes. 

A few days after Paul’s funeral, I pulled up that day’s scripture reading from the Moravian Daily Text, which Paul first shared with me when we were in college. I was stunned to read from Psalm 56:8, “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in a bottle.” I needed to hear that word of comfort, a beautiful reminder that God hears my cries and has not overlooked my/our grief. 

When life throws a left-handed junk ball at you, my hope and prayer is that you’ll feel the strong support of this community of faith .. and that you’ll know the hope that is ours – of a God “who comforts us in all our sorrows so that we can comfort others in their sorrows” (2 Corinthians 1:4).