Archive for the ‘children’ category

Helicopter Church Members

April 8, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                           April 8, 2016

                                 

The term, “helicopter parents”, was first used in 1969 By Dr. Haim Ginott in his book Parents and Teenagers. Since that time the skies have been overpopulated with parents who hover over their children for a variety of reasons.

The interesting thing is that churches have helicopter members. These are folk who hover over programs, look for mistakes in the Sunday bulletin, pounce on perceived errors, and question the intelligence of the pastor and/or church leaders.

They think the Kingdom would not be able to operate without them, and even then believe the Kingdom could function more efficiently if God would just let them do it their way.

Helicopter church people come in all shapes, sizes, ages, and genders. Some contribute to a church by sitting in the same seat each week, and they also…sit in the same seat each week. They are the ones who simply critique. That’s it! They aren’t involved in ministry other then that. They see it as their calling…the ministry of correction! They time the sermon, check the scripture references for accuracy, and ration out their smiles.

Others hover over the pastor. They check his schedule, call him in the late evening and get annoyed when he doesn’t answer. Bottom line: They don’t trust him, just because that’s their right! They grab him every Sunday after the worship service and monopolize his time, even though they know there are visitors present that he would like to meet. They ask him why he isn’t doing certain trivial ministry details, and could care less about community outreach, the homeless, and world hunger. They are concerned that two of the rubber stoppers in the pew communion cup holders are missing, and indifferent about missing members who have been dealing with difficulties.

Then there are the helicopters who are loving and caring, but also smothering. They have good intentions, but don’t understand the boundaries. They look you in the eye with sincerity and ask you how you are doing, and after a response of “Fine”, they question it until the person begins to think that maybe she isn’t doing okay. They mean well, and would give you the shirt off their back, but often take it to an uncomfortable level. However, of the helicopter church members they are the ones who most resemble the people of the first century church.

Just as the term “helicopter parents” came into existence to define those who hover, the church also has those members who hover over any activity, program, function, or detail of the ministries involving their kids and youth. Mind you, there are some parents who “drop and shop”…dropping the kids off and going shopping for a while. But most parents are engaged in their children’s church activities in some way. The helicopter parents micro-manage. They are the “Dance Moms” of the church, sometimes seeing the teacher…the “Abby” of the classroom…as their adversary.

And finally there is the “helicopter pastor” who has his hand in everything and knows everything. He’s been called and ordained, and takes that as God’s authorization for him to dominate and dictate. The Sunday sermon is just one of the various ways he sermonizes each week. When helicopter church members fly in the same zone as helicopter pastors there is bound to be a mid-air collision.

Thus, a new skill set for the church is appearing. One that could be labeled “air traffic controllers”. Controllers guide the helicopters in moving in a safe direction. They discern possible crashes long before they happen, and chart new paths for those who are flying around. It is a special kind of ministry that almost all pastors have no clue about. Seminary education focused on homiletics, Greek, systematic theology, and pastoral counseling. It did not offer a class in “positive movement in ministry”, or “the guidance of agenda-dominated church members.”

In fact, the air traffic controller can rarely be the pastor. The pastor is more like the pilot of one of those helicopters with multiple propellers. He’s usually carrying a heavy load. The air traffic controller has to be trusted by those he/she is guiding. He must establish principles for people to fly by that will not be questioned, for, without a doubt, the hovering members will try to balk when they are told to keep moving.

The thing is…the church needs passionate people who are invested in the ministry. Those saints are to be encouraged, but there comes a point where being invested in needs to be differentiated from owned, and that is sometimes a messy separation.

When Community Gets Stomped On

March 29, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                March 29, 2016

                      

What does it mean to “be community?” It is a term that gets used often these days, an ideal that gets raised as something people want, but what does it mean?

If you go to some of our more rural areas you’ll find that there are farms, or what used to be farms, often situated on each corner of a crossroads. It’s an interesting picture that describes a learning that farmers from decades ago discovered as an essential principle for living: They needed each other. Instead of building the farm house in the middle of their property, farmers built their homes close to their neighbors. Isolation was a threat to their existence. When they planted in the spring they helped each other. When they harvested they helped each other. If a new barn needed to be built they helped each other.

Community meant knowing that they needed each other! Life wasn’t about hoarding, and it wasn’t about looking out for a person’s own interests…and the heck with everyone else!

Such life wisdom was also weaved through scripture into God’s design of the church. There was to be the dependence on God and the interdependence on one another. In fact, the church was charged to look out for the needs of those who were without, especially the widows (Of which there were many!) and the orphans. Community meant sharing. There was not to be those who had and those who had not.

That idea of community often receives lip service, but, in a culture that is self-focused, it is seldom put into action.

Sadly enough, a free Easter Egg Hunt in Orange, Connecticut, demonstrated that the wants of the individual are more important than the welfare of the community. Outside of the Peez candy business pushy parents said to heck with it and rushed the fields that held over nine thousand Easter eggs. Children were pushed to the side as adults descended “like locusts”, as one Peez employee described it, on the fields.

You may be saying “What!!!!” at this point!

The event was scheduled to happen in three phases, starting with the youngest children at 10:30, but before 10:30 arrived mayhem moved in first! The result…crying children, angry parents, and a lot of questions.

Over plastic eggs filled with candy!

The principle of community got stomped on!

A couple of my favorite passages from the New Testament come in Acts 2 and Acts 4 where, talking about the first church in Jerusalem, the writer Luke says that no one was in need. If there was someone in need the others made sure they were taken care of.

That’s the kind of community I want to be a part of- the sweetness of agape love over the momentary taste of sweet candy!

The Price of Being a Christ-Follower

March 28, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                           March 28, 2016

 

In Pakistan seventy people were killed and three hundred injured by a suicide bombing that was aimed at a gathering of Christians in a public park to celebrate Easter. A Taliban faction claimed responsibility for the bomb, it’s fifth bombing since December.

The casualties and injured were mostly men and children: 29 children and 34 men.

Pakistan has several Islamic militant factions that are seeking to create unrest and overthrow the existing governmental leaders.

It is another example of Christ-followers in various places around the world experiencing the price of their faith. In 2013 eighty people were killed in a Pakistani church that was attacked by a suicide bomber. On Good Friday an Indian Catholic priest in Yemen was crucified by ISIS militants.

Although the simplicity of accepting Jesus as Lord and Savior is evident, following Christ often has serious consequences. In Pakistan Islamic militants are trying to establish a government that has a strict interpretation of Islamic law.

In essence, they desire that the government be guided, even ruled, by their religious beliefs. In Pakistan being a Christian is not a glamorous experience.

What does it mean to be a Christ-follower, regardless of where you are in the world? Are there common core elements that can bind believers in our nation with the believers in Pakistan?

Coming through Holy Week brings a couple of things to my mind.

Suffering and sacrifice. The cross tells of the sacrifice of Jesus to atone for the sins of his followers. It is punctuated with suffering. We can empathize with the grieving Pakistani people because our faith journey may travel through hardships and trials.

We are familiar with the scriptural “Roman Road”, but there was also a road leading into Rome in the first century that was lined with Christ-followers nailed to crosses. Nero used to light his Roman gardens at night by making human torches out of Christians.

In essence, suffering and sacrifice are elements that have past history and present happenings for those who follow Jesus. We identify and come alongside the suffering, the poor and neglected, oppressed and powerless.

The second identifying element that we have with Christ-followers around the world is “hope!” Just as the cross tells us of suffering and sacrifice, the empty tomb tells us of the hope that we have in our resurrected Lord.

It’s Monday and he is still alive!

It is easy in our culture to get caught up in the Final Four, spring break vacations, the presidential campaign, fashion trends, and the beginning of Major League baseball, but take a pause once in a while to ponder the situations that Christ-followers around the world are dealing with. Some of those are tragic and others are incredibly hope-filled.

And Jesus is Lord of all!

 

 

Small Churches Are Not a Bad Thing!

March 17, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                          March 16, 2016

                            

Andy Stanley made the news last week as a result of something he said in one of his weekend messages. Since then he has tried to do a rewind of what he really meant, but it is similar to trying to rewrap the toilet paper after it springs loose and rolls down three flights of stairs. You can’t quite get it back to where it was. (I don’t recommend you try it! It won’t turn out good and people will stare at you.)

Andy, who I’ve heard speak several times, and have a lot of admiration and respect for, made a reference to parents being selfish if they keep their teen children at a small church. This came right after a weekend youth conference that was attended by about 3,500 youth from Stanley’s church, and, I’m assuming, other churches.

He didn’t mean to make a dig at small churches, but that’s what was heard. Andy’s church runs around 20,000 each weekend…give or take a few thousand! Obviously, his church is doing a few things right.

His church is the spiritual Walmart that draws customers to the happy faces signs.

Last Sunday I spoke at a church in a small rural town to a gathering of twelve. There are less people in this town than will be seated in Andy Stanley’s overflow room at one weekend service. And yet “The Twelve” allowed me to experience community. After the service instead of a rush to the parking lot to be directed out into traffic by off-duty police officers, at this gathering of the saints we stood in the center aisle for twenty minutes talking and sharing. No one rushed out. They didn’t want to. This was a foundational part of their week.

I read Andy’s interview that was meant to be damage control. Believe me, he’s not totally wrong…and he’s not totally right. Sometimes small churches get set in their ways and become hospice centers for the dying, but other times small churches bring a depth of caring and fellowship that mega-churches should take notes on.

Our culture is drawn to “mass”, to quantity. We overindulge at Chinese buffets and super-size at McDonald’s. On Black Friday we get in line early at the “big box” stores, and we flock to ocean cruise line ships that are like floating cities.

Those things aren’t necessarily bad (except the Chinese buffet part), but they should not be seen as what will meet all of our needs either.

There are places at the Lord’s table for small churches and large churches, and every church in between. This doesn’t need to become a finger-pointing event between the student bodies of two arch rival high schools, shouting across the gym at one another.

On Easter Sunday I’ll be back at that small gathering of God’s people to preach about new life, new hope, and a new day. They will nod their heads in agreement, because they believe that their church is in the midst of the story. Then we will stand in the center aisle and talk about life as it is, and life will is coming.

Billy Goat Stories On the Fly

March 12, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                              March 11, 2016

                                  

Each day when I pick up my granddaughter Reagan from her “Little Sprouts” pre-kindergarten she asks me the same question as soon as she is buckled into her car seat.

“Granddad, tell me a Billy Goat story!”

“Reagan, another one?”

I hear a slight giggle. She knows that she has me wrapped around her pinky so tight I have no wiggle room. I’m bound to obey.

“One day Billy Goat was running through the field-“

“Because he had already eaten lunch…”

“Yes…because he had already eaten lunch…and as he was running through the field he saw a squirrel-“

“Was the squirrel his friend?”

“Yes…he was his friend, and his name was Squeaky. Billy Goat saw him running along the top rail of a fence, and so he scampered over to say hello. He strolled up to the fence and said, “Hey, Squeaky!”

“Does Squeaky have a squeaky voice?”

“Yes he does!” And I proceeded to speak in a high soprano voice that would be annoying in any other situation, but with my five year old granddaughter…it works! “Hey, Billy Goat! Did you have lunch yet?”

“I sure did, Squeaky. I had some oats and grass and a couple of carrots. How about you?”

“I’m on my way to getting lunch right now. There’s a few nuts laying on the ground by that big old tree over there that are just ripe for the taking.”

“Granddad, does that mean he is going to steal them? Because you aren’t suppose to take anything that isn’t yours.”

“No, he isn’t stealing them. They are like little treasures that belong to no one, and are free for the picking…So Billy Goat says to Squeaky, “I wish I could run along the top of the fence railing like you do. But I can’t because I have hoofs, but you have feet.”

“And Squeaky said to Billy Goat, ‘If you’d like to try I’ll help you.”

“Squeaky, you can’t give me a push. You’re too small…and what if I fell back on top of you? I’d crush you!”

“You’re right! How about if you put your hoofs on this rail and try to boost yourself up on top of the fence?”

Reagan is absorbed with the story from the safety of her car seat in the back. She’s following the storyline as I follow Powers Boulevard towards our home.

“Billy Goat said, ‘Okay, I’ll try!’ And he put his front hoofs on the rail, braced himself, and took a spring into the air, got to the top of the fence, but…”Whoa!”…he had pushed to hard and he went toppling down on the other side of the fence and hit the ground.”

“But he didn’t hurt himself.” Granddad stories where animals get hurt is a no-no!

“No, he was okay! And Squeaky told him to try again…so he put his hoofs on the rail and took a jump again. This time he landed on the top rail and stayed for a few seconds, but then one of his hoofs slipped a little bit, he lost his balance and he fell down…Whoa!”

“Squeaky said, “Are you okay, Billy Goat?”

“Yes,” said Billy Goat with a hint of being sad. “I guess I can’t be like you, Squeaky. I’m never going to be able to run along the top of the fence.”

“That’s okay, Billy Goat! You are who you are and I am who i am. I’m not gong to try to be a goat, because that would be silly, and you will never be a squirrel because that would make you a “silly billy!” We are who we are.”

“I guess you’re right, Squeaky! I’ve been a goat, I am a goat, and I’ll always be a goat. Thanks for trying to help me!”

The voice from the back seat summed up the story. “Squirrels are squirrels and goats are goats, and that’s the way it is!”

“That’s right, Reagan!”

“What’s for lunch?”

The Rest in the Story

March 7, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                           March 7, 2016

                                       

     Yesterday I was blessed to be a part of a congregation that was welcoming back one of its pastors from a three-month sabbatical. Since I retired two months ago I’ve been on a sabbatical…sort of! I recommend it…before retirement!

The pastor focused his message on “rest.” Scripture talks about “sabbath rest”, a concept that we read about with a suspicious eye. One of the points he made that I typed into my iPhone was the fact that after Adam and Eve were created they started their lives with a day of unearned rest.

His point hit me! we view rest as something that is earned after a hard day of work, or a day at the end of a long work week. Rest, however, is like a breath of the grace of God. It comes to us because he loves us, not because we’ve worked hard for it.

Of course, our culture doesn’t think along those lines. We’re not sure if Sunday is the first day of the week to begin a new journey with rest; or the seventh day of the week to rest up after six days of battles and struggles.Most of us talk about Monday as being the start of a new week; Sunday is the end of the weekend!

One of the factors in my deciding to retire was rest, or lack of! Monday, traditionally, was my day off…my day of rest, noticeably at the end of my “pastor week.” On Tuesday when a new week was staring me in the face I wasn’t ready to go at it again. If I was an iPhone being charged I was only back up to fifty percent battery life. I did not rest well, or enough.

That thinking is hard for blue-collar Americans who go at it each Monday morning hard and long for forty plus hours divided over five or six days. To rest is too often seen as a luxury, as opposed to a necessity…or even a gift from God.

I’m now in the midst of that weird period- that time when I’m not required to do anything, but feel guilty if I don’t do something. “Doing something” is an affliction of our culture’s mentality. We connect value and meaning to it. When we rest the question that gets asked often is “how long are you going to rest before you get on with things?” Rest is seen as something we’ll get to do a lot after we die…R-I-P!

Personally, I recognize that I’m in a time of being redefined. People view me differently. I’m no longer “Pastor Bill”, even though it is a huge part of who I am. I’m enjoying this new journey, and yet I’m still a little uncomfortable with it. The book I’m reading that is laying beside me on the coffee counter here at Starbucks is entitled The 12 Week Year: Get More Done In 12 Weeks than Others Do In 12 Months. The pastor’s group I belong to is reading it. It w3ill be interesting to see if it has the effect of pulling me in to the fray once again!

Unexpected Grace

March 5, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                     March 5, 2016

                                       

     I’m preaching on grace tomorrow morning, perhaps my favorite subject to dwell upon. We sing an abundance of songs about it…”Amazing Grace”…”Wonderful Grace of Jesus”…Matt Maher’s recent song “Your Grace is Enough”, and Michael W. Smith’s song simply entitled “Grace.”

Grace seems to be a dominant theme pattern in song writers.

And yet in other aspects of our culture, and in the churches that sing about grace, it is given lip service, but rarely put into action and decisions.

Perhaps I’m becoming cynical as I age, but I’ve been at a lot of basketball games lately. I’ve witnessed too many spectators, mostly parents, who are verbally abusive and grace-less. Some may say that it’s simply because I’m talking about a sporting event, and grace is not a part of sports.

I wholeheartedly disagree. Years ago I coached a junior high boy’s basketball team in a Saturday morning church basketball league. Let me just say this! We were several points short of pitiful! My best player, Jimmy Michaels, broke his wrist in the first game of the season. The team instantly went from being short to shorter and short on talent. The boys had matching jerseys and they all had their shoes tied properly, but every Saturday that was as good as it got.

50-5…43-6…39-4…every Saturday morning the score was more resembling of a lock combination than a competitive basketball game.

And then we played Bethlehem Lutheran Church one Saturday. Their Associate Pastor, a guy named Noel Niemann, knew we were a team that was excited about the opportunity to play while being short on talent, and he told his team to play a zone defense that morning where everyone played inside the paint. In effect he was saying we’re going to let the boys of First Baptist shoot and help them score a few points.

Going into that game my goal for the season was to have the team score in double figures in at least one game. It hadn’t happened yet, but that day, thanks to some grace-laced defense, we scored 12! Twelve points! The boys were ecstatic! The final score was 36-12, but if Coach Noel had wanted to he could have geld us scoreless.

We didn’t earn that gift. It was freely given to us, and I’ll never forget that, even though it’s been thirty-five years since it happened.

Grace is helping someone up when there is no advantage to doing so.

And you know, it’s something that needs to be seen in our churches today, not just sung about!

Discerning Perseverance

March 4, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                       March 4, 2016

                                    

This past month I have been going through the application process to be a substitute teacher here in Colorado. Your first question might be “Why?” My response, besides the fact that Walmart wasn’t hiring any new store greeters, would be “Why not?” I enjoy being around young people, and I get tired of hearing people say “Act your age!” At my age I’ve got one foot heading towards a tombstone!

The process, however, has been an exercise in frustration. It’s like an ongoing visit to the DMV, something very few of us list as one of our pleasurable activities. On the Colorado Department of Education application it seems I was asked about five times whether or not I’ve committed a felony. By the fifth time I was starting to think that I had…kind of like when my mom would keep asking me “Are you sure you didn’t do that?” I’m sure at some time through the process I confessed to her that I had committed some offense that my brother, Charlie, had really done.

In my application process I’ve struggled with new technology that I didn’t have to worry about when I applied for a summer job at Rollyson Aluminum Products back in 1973. How do I scan a document? How can I attach something to an on-line application without staples or paper clips? Why do I have to be reminded of the sad state of my first year college grades?

A friend of mine suggested that the torture of the process is God’s way of telling me that there is unconfessed sin in my life, and that I should repent…and then become a pastor again! I failed to connect the dots of his reasoning, but it did make me think of the Christian exalting of the ability to persevere. The Apostle Paul wrote in Romans 5:3-4 that “…we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” In James it says to “Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:4)

So the question is how does one discern the need to persevere versus God closing a door you keep trying to go through? One of my favorite Far Side cartoons is of a bespectacled young boy trying to enter the door to his school. He’s pushing, but the sign on the door says to pull. Above the door is a sign that says “School for the Academically Talented and Gifted.”

No matter how spiritually connected a person is there will be a constant discernment struggle about whether he is to keep on keeping on…trusting in God…persevering in the faith…and seeing that the door is closed.

I know I’ve confused those two a number of times over the years. The temptation to persevere gets easily attached to something that offers more prestige, more power, and more money. Closed doors are often in the background of decisions that offer no enhancing of my resume. Inconvenience gets viewed as a sign that God is saying “No!”

Going back to “sin in my life”, I recognize that the distance I put between myself and God because of my desire to be in control also causes a blurred vision of what I am being called to do or not do.

In my life recently I’ve had several situations where discernment has been needed. I wish I could say that I’ve nailed it every time, but there have been a few times where I’ve been pushing on the door when the sign says “Pull!” Quite frankly, when I’ve stepped back and finally seen what the sign says I turn red in spiritual embarrassment!

The Pressure To Be Perfect

March 3, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                        March 3, 2016

                                

A recent study out of England has concluded that parental pressure in many cases causes young athletes to resort to doping to enhance their performance level. Daniel Madigan, a PhD student at the University of Kent, writes that these “tiger parents” push their teenaged children to high levels of achievement. The athletes choose to turn to doping in order to meet their parents’ expectations and dreams.

The pressure to perform has been raised to now be a pressure to be perfect. I see it quite often in athletes who are more afraid of not meeting their parent’s expectations than letting their teammates down.

What now seems intolerable is failure! The reality, however, is that every game between two teams has a winner and a loser. The middle school boy’s team I’m currently coaching has won most of it’s games, but the other side of that is there are other teams who lose most of their games. Is that a bad thing? No, losing a game is just as much, and maybe even more so, a teachable moment as winning a game.

How often, though, do we look at falling short as total failure? “Falling short” is the reality of each of our lives. For some of us it surfaces in our athleticism, for others it appears in our school report card, and for others it becomes evident in the falling apart of our marriages or separation between ourselves and those who used to be close to us.

“Falling short” is part of our DNA.

Enter into that a reluctance to failing. Not a “Rocky” kind of perseverance, however, but a pressure to win that causes us to cheat, and fabricate, inject and falsify. Having perfect kids  becomes what parents press for, no matter the costs.

Little Johnny gets his own personal trainer who makes a living off “tiger parents.” The parents, however, expect Johnny to make them proud. They will not accept the fact that their son can’t walk and chew gum at the same time. Johnny feels the pressure to perform and perfect and looks for that substance that will give him the advantage.

The pressure to be perfect is casting an ugly shadow over our schools and communities. Here’s the thing! Wherever there is some kind of unnatural or “unholy” pressure there will be an unhealthy reaction.

A high school junior gives up the sport he’s been playing since he was four because the pressure to be perfect has made the whole endeavor detestable to him.

A volleyball player suffers a major shoulder injury because she has overused the parts of her body that she spikes the ball with.

A student gets rushed to the ER because he has consumed too many high-caffeine energy drinks in his attempt to study for endless hours and hours in order to receive a 4.0 GPA.

A college student drops out of church, because his parents made him feel guilty all through high school if he missed any kind of church function. He began to think that God loved him only if he had perfect church attendance. Now he rarely goes, as he wrestles with this new thought of a God who is gracious.

The pressure to be perfect happens in just about any area of our culture, and it is often a very unhealthy experience.

Preaching Again…Again!

February 29, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                 February 29, 2016

                                      

Yesterday I brought “the Word” to a gathering of fifteen saints gathered on one side of a sanctuary that seats about a hundred and fifty. All of them entered the building with smiles on their faces. Their church, small as it is, is counted upon to be their support, their fellowship…their life encouragers.

There were two children and one infant. I did a children’s story. The kids were ecstatic. One of them, a Girl Scout, felt comfortable enough with me to hit it up after the service for two boxes of the cookies she is selling. Her brother bonded with me when we both agreed that spiders scare us.

The worshipers sang…not very well, but with conviction and sincerity. They shared prayer concerns and greeted one another. There wasn’t a designated greeting time during the worship service, because they had already hugged on one another and caught up on life happenings before the first hymn. After the service no one left, but instead moved over to the side room and sipped on coffee while enjoying cake made by a saintly woman who had taken a fall that week, was homebound, but made sure she got the cake baked.

I remember all of their names…Kathleen, Phil, Lena, Elizabeth… Great people! Godly people!

The husband and wife who greeted me arrived a good hour and a half before worship to get things set up, brew the coffee, and run off the bulletin. Carol and I felt like we were royalty as they welcomed us and made sure all of our needs were met.

I preached about David facing a nine foot giant, and talked about some of the fears we face in life that we make into giants. There were nods of agreement, as opposed to people nodding off in slumber and indifference.

In Matthew 18:20 Jesus said “Where two or three are gather in my name, there am I with them.” In the midst of these fifteen people he had a residence!

At the end of the service the host couple came to me and thanked me and then asked me what I was doing next Sunday? It looks like I’ll be preaching again…again. After all, I’ve got to pick up my Girl Scout cookies…and pay for them!

And be blessed by the saints and the smiles, the warmth in the midst of people who journeyed long weeks, and gathered once again to be encouraged.

What these dear folk don’t understand is that, although I’m the preacher, they are teaching me about what the church is and what it can be.