Empty Christmas

I am a hypocrite.  I do not practice what I preach.

I hate Christmas.  There, I said it.  I have hated Christmas for years—long before I was ever a pastor.  I hate the busyness of the season.  I observe how people kill themselves to finish projects at work, get kids to Christmas programs, attend work and social Christmas parties, shop for all the Christmas presents, stress over Christmas decorations, etc.  Advent is an endless list of cultural responsibilities, economic consumerism, and other distractions that take us away from what is truly important.  What’s worse is this idea that a “good” Christmas attitude is about giving presents to others.  But of course, this only extends to our family and friends who already have more than enough.  What a distortion of the gospel message.  I hate Christmas.  And I find a lot of churches, including mine, help perpetuate this cycle of Christmas craziness.

Naturally, I rally around the programs like Advent Conspiracy and Christmas is Not Your Birthday.  Let’s rally against this ridiculous holiday that Christmas has become.  When I was a layperson, I thought our churches didn't do enough to stand up against this destruction of the Christmas miracle.  After all, we preach that people are too busy, but we schedule extra programs during Advent.  We speak out against the consumerism of the season, but then we go out and buy Christmas trees, Christmas lights, etc. that just support the Christmas industry.  When I become a pastor, I’m not buying into this whole scheme….

Now, as I experience my sixth Christmas, I have to admit that I don’t practice what I preach.

I am spending my third consecutive Christmas battling illness.  I have almost no voice, a cough that’s barely contained, and I feel like I just want to crawl back into bed.  I had the same experience last year, and the year before that.

Here’s the thing:  this isn't just a random flu epidemic going around.  My body was sending my signals weeks ago that the schedule I was holding was unsustainable.  I just did not listen.  I pushed through.  After all, there’s a lot going on this month for pastors.  There’s the Christmas decorating at the church, the cookie exchange, the children’s movie night, extra work for the Advent services, Christmas Eve services, the kids’ program, preschool Christmas program, etc.  And new this year—ordination requirements, a special meeting with the village council, and a special musical number my wife and I had planned for Christmas Eve, until we both lost our voices.  And I have not even yet touched on my own family requirements, with Christmas shopping, Christmas cards, in-laws visiting, daughter’s Christmas program, etc.  Oh, and because January is a big kick-off month, I also need to working ahead.

So, I ask you honestly to evaluate my schedule, and yours.  What here really has to be done?  What, in my schedule, is truly important to the Christmas season?  What truly preaches the message of Christmas?  Not as much as I want to think.  I have stretched myself too thin, worn myself out, sacrificed myself at the altar of overwork for a secular message, far removed from that of the original Christmas.  I have done everything I hate about Christmas.  I have failed to keep focused on what is truly important.

People in our congregations know it, too.  Not everyone.  Some still think we work for an hour on Sundays, and that’s it.  Some see ourselves working ourselves to the bone, and wonder why we aren't working more.  But others get it.  They see that we preach against the busyness, against the consumerism, against what Christmas has become, and then fall into those same traps.  I just hope and pray they don’t evaluate the message of the Holy Spirit based on its servant’s inability to live it out.

I offer no solutions.  If I had the easy fix, I wouldn't be battling yet another year.  Just a word of advice to all of my #Refresh colleagues who may be experiencing one of their first Christmases from the pulpit.  We are not immune to the temptations of the season; if anything, we are more susceptible to the challenges.  Stay the course!  Keep your spiritual disciplines.  And take every chance possible to focus on the true miracle of Christmas.

And if that doesn't work, take lots of Sudafed.

Hello, My Name Is Bruce

“There are a lot of sharks in this business.”

When I worked in the world of finance, that was one of our often-quoted rallying cries.  At my last position in the industry, I talked to people as they withdrew money from their 401(k) plans.  My time there coincided with the economic downturn of 2008.  A lot of less scrupulous, or perhaps just incompetent financial advisors sold their clients on the value of annuities.  An annuity is a financial product where you give a company your money, and in return, they promise you a certain percentage of income return (this is a severe oversimplification, but bear with me).  The benefit is there is not much risk—you are usually guaranteed at least a minimum return.  The downside is you give up control of your money, and the return you get is likely less than you would receive in the market.  When the market is good, this is a tough sell; the market may pay out 12%, while you get only 6%.  But in bad times, this is an easy sell.  Yet it still may not be the best product.  To avoid two or three years of a bad market, you may lose control of your funds for more than ten years.  An annuity is a great product for people in the right situation.  But for most people, it is a very bad fit.

Why did so many financial advisors prey on the emotions of their clients?  An annuity paid the advisor often three or four times the commission they could make on another account.  We saw client after client fall for these “sharks.”  The sharks would jump into the business, paint us as the “evil corporation,” sell as many annuities as possible, take the large payouts, then get out of the industry before they had to deal with the fallout.  At the time I was there, the average financial advisor was out of the business in three years (I contacted a friend who is a financial advisor and definitely not a “shark,” who told me the accurate number now is about two years).

There are great financial advisors out there.  I am happy to call some of them my friends.  But they are tasked with an unenviable task:  living up to an unbelievably high standard, helping others overcome those sharks, and proving without a doubt that they are different.

I have since left the financial world, and transitioned to a life of vocational ministry.  Do you know what I have learned?  There are a lot of sharks in this business as well.  In fact, there are a lot of sharks in every business.  Ministry is not immune.  This past week provided more than its share of reminders.  Last week, the story of a pastor in Tempe, Arizona that advocates for the killing of homosexuals crossed the news cycle.  All around the United States, “pastors” are using racial tensions to espouse their own biases and hatred rather than be a prophetic voice of faith, hope, and love.  And we all know people who have been hurt by other pastors, whether through unintentional action, or just plain callousness.  There are a lot of sharks in this business.

My natural response is to say, “Well, I’m not like that.”  But this is a dangerous line of thinking.  When I was working in the financial world, none of these “sharks” thought they were sharks.  Few, if any, really intended to become sharks.  It was a series of compromises that seemed necessary at the time that led to their evolution.

Instead of looking at myself as human and the others as sharks, it might be more accurate to say that “My name is Bruce, and fish are friends, not food.”  In the movie Finding Nemo, Bruce is the shark that is trying to overcome his nature to live in harmony with his fish neighbors, always aware that a few moments of inattentiveness will lead him back to a dangerous place.  This is perhaps a better image for who I am and the role I play.  I strive to not be a shark, but I certainly have the terrible potential.  I will be saved not by my rugged good looks and charm, but only by constant submersion in the Holy Spirit.  Even a few moments of inattentiveness can lead to dangerous places.

And that inattentiveness comes when we begin to view others as “it” and not “thou.”  Martin Buber, in his book, “I and Thou,” talks about the essential relationship between us and another.  We must always see our relationship with others as “I” and “Thou.”  Because this is exhausting, we sometimes fall into relationships based on role, become “I” and “It.”  But when this becomes the default, we get into dangerous territory.  We become the sharks.  It becomes easy for us to justify any behavior as necessary when we see people as dysfunctional obstacles, opportunities to grow our churches, sources of income, allies in conflict, or any other number of impersonal designations.  Whether intentionally or unintentionally, we become the sharks when we no longer see the other as a cherished individual, created in the image of God.

There are a lot of sharks in this business.  But my name is Bruce, and fish are friends, not food.

The New Normal-Christians Responding to Ferguson

Part of what makes a good story is the ability to see ourselves in it.  We become involved when we can imagine ourselves in the position of the hero, facing the same obstacles, overcoming the same difficulties.  World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE), at its best, excels at this type of story telling.  The success of Stone Cold Steve Austin, arguably the biggest star in the history of the company, has often been tied back to the ability of the audience in the late 1990s to relate to his struggles.  He feuded with his boss, Mr. McMahon, who demanded he compromise himself and his ways, and often set him up to fail.  But Stone Cold rose above every time.  It is a great story.  Who does not want to punch their boss every once in a while?  In a practical sense, I am somewhat my own boss now, and even I want to occasionally take a swing.

So what makes a great story is the ability to see ourselves in that place.  But that is also what makes terrible solutions to the problems of others.  We need to understand that our normative experience is not “the” normative experience.

Like many others, I find myself watching what is occurring in Ferguson, Missouri, and feeling confused, saddened, and frustrated.  Much of that stems from realizing that I do not understand their “normal.”  A friend recently posted an article in which the author described parts of the events, based on grand jury testimony, between Michael Brown and Darren Wilson as “unbelievable.”  Many of the events the author criticized were facts not in dispute.  What the author saw as unbelievable was accepted fact.  Yes, I do not understand how this confrontation occurred.  I do not understand why cooler heads did not prevail.  I cannot understand why Michael Brown was not polite and agreeable to an officer of the law.  But I also understand that my normal is not their normal.

I once had a bad experience with the police.  I was given a speeding ticket I did not think I deserved.  It was later dismissed.  I am a fool if I think I understand the tension between police and African-American residents of Ferguson.

At the same time, even if I can intellectually assent to their anger, I do not understand the rioting and looting.  After all, even if they are angry, the rioters and looters are just destroying their own neighborhood.  But again, I do not understand their anger.  I do not understand their normal.  I was angry with my community once; I voted against a school levy.  This is not the same thing.

When I was in seminary, we were required to travel and experience Christianity in a different culture.  I spent two weeks in Jordan, Israel, and Palestine.  I began to realize their experience of faith was drastically different from ours.  In fact, the only times I remember being embarrassed to be a part of my group was when we tried to fit others into our “boxes.”  When we thought we had a solution to the centuries of conflict between Arabs, Jews, and Christians—become like us!  I still remember the look on a Palestinian Christian’s face when someone asked her when her heart was strangely warmed, and she accepted Jesus Christ as her personal Lord and Savior.  It was roughly similar to the look my wife gives me when I tell her we need to invest in bagpipes to improve my ability to offer a good funeral service.

I am a fool if I think my normative experience is the one and only normative experience, ordained by the Holy Spirit.  I am an even bigger fool, and perhaps dangerously more, when my solution to the problems of others is for them to become like me.

In my context, I find this is our go-to solution for many of the world’s problems.  War in Syria?  Make them be like us; we are not fighting here.  Conflict in Israel and Palestine?  They just need to be like our church.  Racial tension in Ferguson?  If they acted like us, they would have no problems at all.

The Apostle Paul often refers to a group that would come to his churches after him.  They were Jewish Christians who preached that in order for Gentiles to be saved, they first had to become Jewish.  The only normative experience for Christians was the path of Jewish-Christians.  We often vilify this group as we study the Bible.  But I find myself reflecting on this group, as the people in my context react to what is happening around the world.  Were these Jewish-Christians the evil, terrible people we make them out to be?  Were they really trying to undo Paul’s work?  Or were they good-meaning, ignorant people, who latched onto the idea that their normative experience was the only normative experience?  Perhaps they truly meant to help the Gentiles; unfortunately, their only solution began with “become just like us.”

I have not yet reached Christian perfection.  Neither has anyone in my context, as far as I am aware.  We may all be headed to the same goal, but to say my normative experience is the only one—well, that  just does not hold water.

I do not offer many solutions to the crisis in Ferguson.  But I do want us to look at the solutions we offer and suggest as Christians.  If they begin with, “they need to be just like us,” they are doomed to fail, and they do not come from the Spirit.  The Spirit’s solutions usually begin with, “We need to be more like Christ.”

My #ahamoment-Fueling Creativity

Dave Grohl’s documentary Sound City was originally intended to pay tribute to the unique sound board at one of his favorite studios.  Instead, the movie became about the process of making music.  It showcased how the creative process of making music has changed through available technology.  Although the movie shared a decidedly negative view of what technology has done to music, they interesting also showcased Trent Reznor, the musician behind Nine Inch Nails.  Reznor is known for his creative use of technology to create unique music.  Even beyond his work in Nine Inch Nails, Reznor’s recent work with Atticus Ross scoring films has won his an Oscar.  Reznor differentiated himself from others than use technology today.  As he sees it, many others use technology as a crutch to make up for a lack of skill or creativity.  Reznor, on the other hand, is a classically trained pianist.  That classical training feeds his creativity.  His use of technology is almost an afterthought; the creativity comes from the hours of practice learning musical theory.

The interview reminded me of a class I took as an undergrad at Ohio University.  In my Management and Strategic Leadership program (impressive sounding, right?), we were required to take a class on managing and leading creativity.  I do not recall thinking much about the class, but one item sticks out in my mind.  As part of a class assignment, I interviewed someone in the music industry.  She told me that most think that creativity is the result of a sudden intuitive moment, but that is foolish.  Creativity is the result of hours of hard work and preparation.  What might seem like a sudden intuition to the outside was actually the result of hours of learning new tools, practicing new techniques, and experimenting new combinations.  It may seem like creative people just invent ideas out of thin air, but those that are creative for a living realize that creativity is hard work.

This brings me to my #ahamoment.  A few months ago, there was some unexpected shifting in the schedule at the church.  A sermon and worship series we had planned for spring had to be moved to fall.  The fall series could not be moved to spring.  Given its location in the midst of other planning, this was really the perfect time for some creative and unique series—something catchy fun.  It was last minute, but certainly I could invent a fun, five-week series.  And I had…nothing.  Absolutely nothing.

You see, after seminary, no one forces you to constantly study.  What you read, how you grow, how you learn is completely up to you.  You are responsible for your own growth.  It’s not that I stopped reading after seminary; please do not misunderstand me.  In fact, I was learning and studying just as much after graduation.  But I came to a two month period when I focused solely on the things at hand.  I was reading for practical issues we had at the church.  I spent my time on projects that were urgent, if not necessarily important.  And then, when it came time for creativity, I had nothing.

Thankfully, I pulled something together; it all worked out.  But my #ahamoment, my moment of realization, centered around the way I learn and grow going forward.  I always have to be learning and growing more.  I always must be reaching out into something new and different, even if it does not seem relevant at the time.  Because that growth, that reaching out, that experiencing something new, is what fuels creativity.

There are a variety of ways to do this.  I occasionally help teach at my seminary; that forces me to be reading new books and consuming new resources.  I plan my preaching out months (if not a year)in advance, and use that opportunity to explore new books or concepts.  Occasionally, I will covenant with another friend or colleague to read a book or resource together, and then talk it through.  Find what works for you.

So, if my #ahamoment may be instructional for other young pastors, my advice is this:  protect a small part of your schedule for something new.  We all have churches that demand a great deal of our time.  We all have Conference and District obligations that demand a lot.  None of us has a lack for things to do.  But do not let the immediate clog your schedule entirely.  Take some time to constantly be exploring something new.  Because out of that newness, your creativity is born.

Soccer, Rabbis, Driscoll, and Learning To See Bigger

Recently, Major League Soccer (MLS) Commissioner Don Garber and United States Men’s National Team (USMNT) coach Jürgen Klinsmann have been at odds.  Some key US players, including Clint Dempsey and Michael Bradley, transferred from big European teams (Tottenham and Roma, respectively) to MLS teams.  Klinsmann pushes his players to play at the highest levels of competition to raise their games; in soccer, that means playing in Europe.  Even the most loyal MLS fan must admit coming back to the MLS to play is a large step down in competition.  Klinsmann recently commented that Bradley needs to prove his game will not take a step back in the MLS.  Garber took offense to this comment.  In his thinking, a stronger MLS means a stronger USMNT.  In Klinsmann’s view, a transcendent US player, one who can play at the highest levels of European competition, will encourage more US soccer players, and therefore help the MLS.

So who is right?  Well, honestly, both.  And neither.  A stronger MLS, in the long term, will encourage more young, talented athletes to play soccer, thus helping the USMNT.  But a transcendent US talent will also encourage a stronger MLS.  So, both are right.  But by insisting that their way is the only way, both are wrong.

Last week, I debated whether I would blog about Mark Driscoll.  After all, I am relatively new to blogging; I only adopted to try to support the Refresh blogging initiative.  It is a topic that was certain to offend people.  At the same time, before Driscoll was recently in the news, I noticed this trend about how we, as Christians, treat those we disagree with.  It is a trend that, quite frankly, disgusts me.  We treat fellow Christians with different theologies as the enemy, and we use any weapon in our arsenal to tear them down.  I blogged about this topic.  And, there is no way to say this humbly, but I still believe I am right.

At the same time, I received several responses from trusted friends and colleagues (hey, people actually read this?).  Many of them expressed different viewpoints.  They shared how Driscoll’s actions offended and hurt them, or offended and hurt others they cared about.  They shared how my post, while not intending in any way to be a defense of Driscoll, too easily dismissed the pain he has caused.  And, quite frankly, they were right.  For this I apologize.  You were right, I was right.  And in writing like I was the only one who was right, I was wrong.

Rabbi Brad Hirschfield wrote a book entitled, You Don’t Have to Be Wrong for Me to Be Right.  One of my professors assigned the book to us my first semester in seminary.  While I read it with all the enthusiasm typically reserved for students reading assigned texts, I am amazed at how the concepts driving that book become even more relevant as the years go by.  We can disagree, and both be right.  We may be speaking from different perspectives.  We may be simplifying a complex idea or concept.  Another perspective or opinion does not make my opinion any less valid, or “right.”

I find many of us, as we learn and grow in our Christian faith, approach faith as if our interpretations and experiences are the only possible and valid perspective.  We are right, and no one else is.  We ignore that the scripture that we are “right” on may speak to us differently at different times.  We ignore that the gospel message has proven true in countless cultures over 2,000 years.  We ignore that God is infinite, and our own understanding is definitely finite.  We assume that what we think and feel now is the sole and only truth, and if our perspectives may change, well, then that is the now the sole and only truth.

But you don’t have to be wrong for me to be right.  As I learn and grow more, as a student, pastor, theologian, etc., I learn how big the faith is.  How a great many perspectives provide insight.  How the faith is a complex topic, and I have so much more to learn.

This is not a pass for relativity.  I am not saying that every opinion or perspective is valid.  There are certainly ones I disagree with and stand against.  But this is a mea culpa.  Last week (and for most of my life), I have approached topics as if my perspective was the only right one.  For that, I beg your forgiveness.  May I learn from you, and may I gain a better perspective on the amazing grace of God in the process.

Another One Bites the Dust

There is a colleague of mine that I just cannot seem to work with.  I would like to think I am not that difficult to get along with (at least in small doses), but this colleague and I just do not get along.  Much of my frustration comes from this person’s arrogance.  This person never seems to take responsibility for anything going wrong.  Anytime we work together, it is always my fault, even when it clearly is not.  This person seems to discount all of my ideas in private, but in public, will present my ideas as if this person just thought of them.  I have been in meetings where this person interrupts with no other purpose than just wanting to be the center of attention.

And do you know what I despise most about this person?  When I find myself doing the exact same thing.  I would like to think I do not do any of these things to the same degree, but I have been known to make sarcastic comments in a meeting for no other reason than to be the center of attention.  I have caught myself trying to pass the blame onto someone else.  What I hate most about this other person is what I hate most about myself.

This week, Mark Driscoll stepped down as pastor of Mars Hill Church.  I have difficult, mixed feelings about Mark Driscoll.  On one hand, he played a part in my own faith development.  At age 22, I needed to hear his challenges to young men to be responsible and accountable.  The Caleb’s Men group that helped me take my faith seriously was heavily influenced by Driscoll.  On the other hand, I hate the way he sometimes presents his ideas.  I disagree with some of his theology, but mostly, I disagree greatly with the way he presents the gospel.  Take his now infamous “penis home” comment.  I agree with his point; sex is intended for our spouses.  He could have made the same point without making potentially offensive and inflammatory comments about women.  Why did he have to say those things that undermined everything he was preaching?

Yet again, what I hate about Driscoll is part of what I hate about myself.  I love being intelligent.  I love being right.  In many arguments, I have gone too far, said purposely inflammatory things, and just shoved my argument down someone’s throat.  I even made someone cry once in the parking lot after a seminary class.  We had a disagreement in a class, and even though he was in his first semester, and I was near graduation, I could not keep myself from continuing to drive my point home, long after I should have let up.

My intention is not to defend Driscoll’s actions or theology.  Certainly, his actions were inappropriate, and he should be held responsible for them.  But I urge the rest of us to take a step back and look at our condemnation of a fellow pastor.  Allow me to share some of the comments that have been made on Facebook and on the internet by fellow Christians:

“I hope he dies of a heart attack.  He deserves to die.”

“He doesn’t deserve grace and forgiveness.  He should burn in hell.”

“I feel sorry for his wife he probably rapes and his kids he probably beats.”

Certainly, these represent the more extreme comments, but a large percentage of comments are harsh, judgmental, and inflammatory.  Why is Driscoll the target of our spite?  Is it his theology about women or his views of homosexuality?  Others hold similar views, and we do not respond so violently to them.  Driscoll’s real sin is his arrogance, his judgmental nature, and his hurtful comments.  Yet we respond with arrogance, judgmental feelings, and hurtful comments.

Could it be that what we really hate about Driscoll is what we really hate in ourselves?

I hope we can find another way to respond.  We are called to love our enemies.  And yet, it seems I struggle even to love those on “my team.”  I can only imagine that this serves to support the idea that Christians are hypocrites, and do not live what we preach.  May God have mercy on us all.

Sorry, But I Am Not Cool

Note:  I am about to make generalizations about people of different generations.  I know these are generalizations.  I realize that your cousin’s neighbor’s sister’s best-friend’s roommate may not fit these generalizations.  That is why they are called generalizations, not laws.

I have come to the realization that I am not cool.  I had a nagging suspicion this was true, but as I have had time to reflect on the birth of my second child, I know now it is official.  I once was cool, at least in my own way.  People came to me to find out about the newest films, or the next musical artist that was about to break out into the big time.  But now?  Nothing.  I am not cool.

Here is some of my evidence.  A few months ago, a friend gave me a ride in his new, black Chevrolet Camaro (a fairly sporty car, for those unfamiliar).  Honestly, my first thought was “There is no way you could get two cars seats into this thing!”  Whereas I may have once been the go-to for the latest movies, I have only seen one movie in theatres since 2011 (and that movie was “Ender’s Game”).  South Park poked fun at Lorde last night, and while I knew her name, I honestly had never heard any of her songs.  And perhaps the most damning evidence of all:  when Apple gave me the newest free U2 album, I was appreciative.

I am not cool.  Yet, I am somehow sought after by organizations and churches, as a sort of young people Moses.  I will lead them to the Promised Land of Millennials.  Advertisers salivate over me (I’m under 35 and have disposable income).  Churches believe they will appear more relevant if I am associated with them (I know “the Twitter”).  Organizations believe that if I serve on their board, they will somehow appear more relevant to the younger generations.

Friends, if we expect me to solve our problems reaching out to young people, we have already lost.

One part of the problem is we usually have not asked ourselves why we are so desperate for young people in the first place.  Why is every church I have pastored interested in young people?  Is it because we have a heart for the next generation?  Not really.  We are burned out.  We are tired of giving and supporting the church.  We hope a new, younger generation will come and take over.  They can do everything the way we have always done it, and foot the bill.  We can sit back, relax, and enjoy the fruits of our labors.

This plan is doomed from the start.  No one is interested in being a substitute, or designated bill payer.  If this is our primary reason to want to recruit young people, our attitude sinks our own ship.

The other part of the problem is a complete misunderstanding of what people, especially young people, seek.  While it certainly helps to have some young people to attract other young people, that is not the answer.  Out of an organization like the church, young people seek meaning and relevance more than they seek youth.  They want to know that a church (or library, or store, or non-profit) provides value in their lives.  They want to know that it has a purpose and vision.  They want to know that they are valued in that space as more than a potential customer.  If the organization does not do those things, it does not matter who their “poster boy for youth” is.

So, let me assure all of you that I am not cool.  And I am surprisingly okay with it.  I gave up on that awhile ago.  So if you want to seek out the millennial generation, do not start with recruiting me to serve on your board, or star on your poster.  I am not that cool.  Start with offering something of true value.

Refresh and Connectional Ministry in the Church

After speaking to me for more than a few minutes, you will discover that I love soccer.  I am passionate about the sport, and especially about my team, Everton Football Club (in Liverpool, England).  Soccer really is the "beautiful game."  At its best, everything comes together to make soccer beautiful.  Scoring may not be frequent, but it is amazing when it happens.  Rarely is there just a fluke scoring play.  Instead, soccer goals are created by multiple small, even unnoticed movements across the pitch.  The goal belongs not just to the striker that shot the ball, but the defender who made a great interception to start the play, the midfielder who put himself in an attacking position, the winger who made the great final pass--even the midfielder on the other side of the pitch, who never touched the ball, but put himself in a position to make the opposing goaltender hesitate for just one crucial second, allowing the striker to shoot the ball.  Everything comes together.  A goal is the work of eleven players, often over the course of the entire game, coming together for one crucial moment.

It is easy to feel isolated across our connection, but we are a connection nonetheless.  No church or pastor is a lone ranger.  We all stand on the shoulders of others, learn from others, and if we are lucky, influence others.  Realizing our indebtedness to others is not a sign of weakness, or an acknowledgement of our inability to do it on our own power.  Rather, it is a realistic sign of gratitude to all those who have come before us, serve along with us, and will carry on after us.

I serve at Montpelier First UMC in lovely, Montpelier, Ohio.  Montpelier is a small town in the most northwestern county in Ohio.  Even here, I take advantage of the many who came before me to lead the church to where it is.  In my own life, as a third-generation pastor, I follow in the footsteps of my father and his father.  I am a second-career pastor, who made the transition from the finance industry to ministry only because others pray for me, influence me, pastor to me, and help me along the way.  And none of us are here without the Holy Spirit transforming our lives first.  The idea that any of us are here on our own is laughable.

The great B.B. King was asked in an interview if he had any advice for aspiring musicians.  King responded that every young musician should find someone else who inspires them.  Find a musician who does something they love and wish they could do.  Then steal mercilessly from them.  After you steal all you can from them, find someone else to inspire you to steal.  When you've stolen from enough people, you will have something unique and amazing to offer yourself.

As cynical as I can be, and as critical as I have sometimes been of Refresh and other forms of United Methodist connectionalism, they are the tools that allow us to fellowship.  They allow us to form relationships in a system where our context is constantly changing.  And they give us the opportunity to steal mercilessly from each other.  Refresh, at its best, gives us an opportunity to support each other in prayer, in friendship, and in resources.

Years ago, I gave a short talk at seminar orientation at United Theological Seminary.  To summarize my glorious speech (which undoubtedly brought tears to many students' eyes and inspired them to become greater, or something like that), I shared with them that seminary afforded them many opportunities if they were only willing to take advantage of them.  Our connectionalism is the same.  We are only limited by our refusal to take advantage of the tools in front of us.

So let us not shy away from connectionalism, or speak of it like it is a four-letter word.  Instead, let us embrace our connectional spirit.  Let us embrace Refresh as much as it helps us to grow, fellowship, and even--dare I say it--refresh.  We are only limited by our own refusal to take advantage of the tools in front of us.