Musings on faith and life from an Alaska Lutheran pastor.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Ministry in the Shadow of the Budget

When I think about money, especially when there's not enough of it, there's a particular feeling of dread that settles into the pit of my stomach. I don't just feel it in my heart, I experience it in my body. It's powerful, visceral and real.

I grew up feeling that way, overhearing conversations between my parents on the farm as they wondered aloud if there would be enough money for food and utilities. We had no health care, as children, because we couldn't afford it. My mom paid $50 a year so we could have the required annual sports physicals. Otherwise, she told us to be very careful. There was no money for other doctor visits or emergencies.

As a young adult, I worried about money, too. I wasn't paid well as a journalist in Iowa and then I accrued plenty of debt in seminary. I took the call at Central only after I figured out that the salary met synod guidelines and I could afford rent, car payments and student loan payments with that paycheck. It was still tight, though, and it's been tight ever since. Getting married helped considerably (thank you Erik) but that feeling of dread in my belly comes back from time to time.

It's back now, not in my personal financial life, but in my professional financial life as pastor at Central Lutheran Church. There's not enough money in the budget and there hasn't been for a long time. Meanwhile, Pastor Glenn, Luis, the rest of the staff and I do ministry in the shadow of the budget, a dark and scary place.

Central members may know the situation and others can read about it on the church web site where church council meeting minutes are posted. The problem is that there isn't enough revenue to support four full-time staff (two pastors, youth workers and office manager), plus all the other part-time staff. In addition, Central has made a pledge to offer a portion of all revenues as benevolences: gifts to the synod, Lutheran Social Services, Habitat for Humanity, Alaska Children's Services and many others. When giving goes down, our benevolences go down too, since they are a percentage of all giving. Over the years we've had to reduce that percentage, much to the disapproval of many members who like us to pass our money along.

Why has giving gone down? Lots of reasons. The economic downturn meant that people simply had less to give. Some left the church over church wide decisions in 2009 regarding gay and lesbian clergy. Some members who were big givers have died or moved away. Worship attendance is generally lower than it was several years ago. Even though many new members have joined the church in the past several years, it takes time for people to give at the levels of long-time members. Some may not wish to give or may not be able to do so.

Whatever the reason, the reality has hit us. In January, while I was on sabbatical, the church council reduced the pastors' salaries to 90% each and the youth worker to 75%. This has potential consequences for ministry. If staff work less, what doesn't get done? What can be done more efficiently? How can volunteers help? What church programs or offerings should go away? What do I cut out of my full schedule? Where do I not show up? Who do I not take time for? These are tough questions.

At the April church council meeting, we determined that the cuts made in January to staff salaries probably are not enough. Our treasurer asked which bills she should pay first in case there isn't enough cash flow. It's not a theoretical question. The council struggled to give her an answer.

Of course it is not up to me alone to fix this problem, though I desperately wish I could. That old feeling is back in the pit of my stomach, the one I get when there's not enough money. It's back and it's been there for days, even as I try to figure out how to bask in the after-glow of a restful sabbatical. My stomach aches again and I wonder how to make it go away.

Meanwhile, there's ministry to be done. Just because the budget is tight, we staff members at the church can't sit in sackcloth and ash to mourn. There's too much to be done. People still die (two people in our church died in the last two weeks) and people still need to be visited at home and in the hospital. There are still folks struggling with their faith or life circumstances, folks who need a listening ear. There are confirmation lessons to prepare, sermons to write, worship to plan, synod assembly to attend and Bible studies to prepare and study. Ministry goes on and on and on, even in the shadow of the budget.

But that dread still remains. I'm trying to figure out how to live in peace with it. I'm trying to use my solid foundation of Lutheran theology that urges us to hold two opposing things in tension. You know, like how we are both saint and sinner. In the same way, we are both doing amazing ministry at Central and, at the same time, struggling desperately to stay afloat. I worry each day that our little squabbles over hymns or worship styles is simply re-arranging deck chairs on the Titanic.

Where does God call us in troubled times? How does God speak to us when we are afraid?

I'm sorry to say that your pastor doesn't have the right or perfect answer. But I do have the power of prayer. While I've been in Berkeley these past few days for a seminary board meeting, I've been praying mightily for some guidance and direction for our shared ministry at Central. Please join me in praying for our congregation and tough decisions that lie ahead if our financial situation remains the same or worsens.

I would not say that the dread in my belly went away while I was in Berkeley these past few days, but I did find consolation in conversations with my fellow board members. I am reminded that the church across the country is struggling with decisions about budgets, staff and facilities. I am also reminded that the church exists not for itself but to proclaim the message of a loving Savior. That's more important than anything else. And no matter what our churches do, the Word of God remains and God's love is steadfast. The shadow of the budget does not and cannot quench the Spirit of the living God.

So thanks for your prayers and your support of Central Lutheran Church. At the same time that I (still) feel the dread in my belly over the money, I feel the love of God and the strength of our community as a joy in my heart. We move forward into the unknown future, where God already is, Lord of all.





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