From the pastor

November 23, 2003

I’ve engaged the sights and sounds of my backyard thousands of times. But each morning feels new, and the new feeling cajoles my thinking, and new observations and words pour out. Naked deciduous trees, two of them, are first in my line of view this morning. Then comes the neighbor’s roof. Then comes a mixed row of twenty or so coniferous and deciduous trees. And the backdrop this morning is a sky streaked with baby blue and gentle pink. The whole sight is accompanied by a sound track of wind and a solitary, unseen chirping bird.

As I sit in my study and write, I am reminded of the main reason I do this on Sunday morning. It is a discipline to engage me in reality. It is remarkably easy for me to be oblivious to the world around me. My thoughts are easily snagged on the brambles and thickets in my own brain. There are things to do, folks to please, thoughts to articulate, reforms to pursue, prickly people to navigate, a house, a body, a family, a checkbook, a job—all to manage. Every pressure, worry, and anxiety tricks me into thinking: THIS problem alone is the real world.

But the naked deciduous trees bobbing to and fro in the backyard are paths to reality as much as the mess of papers on my desk. The bobbing trees restore my perspective. Perhaps we shouldn’t have chopped down a tree elsewhere to produce all those papers piled on my roll top. Looking out my back window helps my mind escape the prison of its own fixations. As my mind embraces the trees, the neighborhood, and the sky beyond—the papers on my desk become relative. Most could go directly to the recycle bin—without any intervening action. Only a few deserve a place in the big picture.

And so I write—to clear my mind—to grow beyond my personal anxieties—to empty my spirit—so that I may have room for a bigger picture that will include both God and the people who will worship with me today. In a sense, our solitary thoughts are a distortion of reality. Only in community are we able to see God and the world and the people around us more truthfully.

Enough of this esoteric thinking—a mental thicket alert is going off in my head.

We received word yesterday that the annual conference will be giving us $20,000 next year to pursue our Grace Years and Grace Street initiatives. They also promised to work with us to use that money to leverage grants elsewhere. Grace Street is our project to connect with children and young adults and partner with them in ministry. Grace Years is our project to connect with retired persons in our community and partner with them in new forms of ministry. Both projects involve small groups, worship, reaching out to people beyond our congregation, relationship building, and one on one conversations. The Grace Years project includes a life review process and a periodical publication. A community, non-profit coffeehouse is also in the works. The grant from the conference was about $45,000 less than I wanted. But on the other hand, the pledges from our own congregation during the past two weeks were about $20,000 more than we had originally projected. About $20,000 can be cut or delayed from the Grace Street/Year budget without seriously impairing the projects. So I find myself encouraged today in our progress toward putting a package of resources together for this effort. --Mike