Callings and community, a day at Wartburg College

All is well here in heaven (Iowa), where I've been since last Friday. I arrived to temperatures in the low to mid-80s, breaking records from the early 1900s across Iowa these past few days. Why go to Hawaii on spring break when you can go to Iowa?

I have about a week here, which goes too fast when I'm visiting family, extended family, friends from college and friends from high school. So much of my world is nestled in about 50 square miles here.

I spent most of the day today at Wartburg College, my alma mater, which is only 20 miles from my parents' farm. I had emailed two religion professors I knew, plus the dean of the chapel, and told them I was on sabbatical and studying vocation and could I please talk to them about that? My favorite response was from Ramona Bouzard, dean of the chapel, who said if one wishes to speak of vocation, there's no better place than Wartburg. I knew it was true. Wartburg has made a concerted effort, especially in recent years, to connect and engage students in the life of the community and intentional service. They have an extensive Center for Community Engagement and an office for Career and Vocation Services.

So I only asked to speak to Ramona and two professors, but I got a whole lot more. Ramona paved the way for me to sit in on the senior religion class "Church in the Modern World," asked me to preach at mid-morning chapel, and invited other students, faculty and staff to join us for lunch to discuss call and vocations. Later, I went to visit another professor 1-1. It was typical Wartburg goodness and hospitality.

The religion class met at 9:00 am not in a classroom but in a student lounge in one of the dormitories. This sounds odd, but wait. The dorm also has two classrooms and the faculty offices of the religion and philosophy departments. Apparently it's a new trend in academia to connect learning to living in community. One professor said it's pretty good overall except for seeing the occasional young man in a towel.

The class was working through Marcus Borg's The Heart of Christianity, which I haven't read but will soon. Led by Old Testmament professor Chip Bouzard, the class was mostly senior religion majors, about 12 or so students in all, which some going to seminary or considering it. The discussion flowed as students discussed whether God was a distant or involved creator. Do we have free will? Does God have an exact plan for our lives? Does prayer work? Does God make some things happen while letting other things go? Does God help you get a parking space? Why do we pray? Does God know if I'm going to have beans or broccoli for lunch next Tuesday? Does God care?

I was impressed with the depth and thoughtfulness of the students' insights. Many articulated a deep sense of God's love and presence with them, while allowing that perhaps God has more important things to worry about than what they have for dinner. They shared observations about what friends or family or culture have to say about God's plan or God's involvement in daily life.

At one point the Chip turned to me and said, "Pastor, what do you think about prayer? Should we do it? Does it work?" I talked about how prayer doesn't necessarily change God, but that it changes us. Prayer is also an act of worship, an act of admission that God is God and we are not, and an act of community. We also pray because Jesus said it was a good idea.

Before the class was over, Chip shared a few images about God's plan that he liked. He said perhaps God is like a parent, who wants generally good things for his children (health, solid relationships, meaningful work) but doesn't care as much about the details. Another image: God paints with broad strokes, we paint the finer details.

After class I went to morning chapel, where I preached about the sabbath. Read it at http://www.centluth.org/wartburg.pdf, if you like. I got to pick the text, theme and songs. It wasn't the same as preaching at Central, where I know and love the folks in the pews, but it was fun. And I did know a few people there.

At lunch, Ramona had gathered a student, some administrative and support staff, another campus pastor and a couple other professors to chat. I asked them how they understood their call/vocation and how that had changed. I loved the images. One person said he felt like he was "firing on all cylinders" when teaching about the New Testament and it's original context and current application. So, however and wherever he could do that, no matter if it was paid work, that would be his vocation. Another said being a pastor was not so much finding a call but embracing his joy. Another said she struggled to know how her work was a vocation because it could seem tedious.

We talked at length, then, about what it means to live your vocation if you are unemployed, under-employed or don't like your job. Pastors can't exactly drip sentiment about vocation bliss from the pulpit when this is the reality of many of those in the pews. One person suggested the answer lies in community. To paraphrase, she said that communities of faith must bind together to listen to each others' stories, to support each other and to identify ways that vocation is lived outside work hours. Another person added that we do a dis-service to vocation when we imagine that we only have one. We have many vocations and they change over time (which sounds a lot like what we talked about in adult education at Central last fall).

It was a delicious conversation, full of people who had really thought about what it meant to follow their call and how they could live out the gifts that God gave them.

After lunch, I spent some time working out in Warburg's enormous fitness center, "The W," and then met Kit Kleinhans, religion professor, for a chat in her office. She was a good choice for a chat, as she's also the director of a campus initiative called, "Discovering and Claiming our Callings," a grant funded by the same Lilly Endowment that funded my sabbatical.

Kit and I covered a lot of ground, including time spent discussing the changes in church over the years. When I mentioned how it's frustrating sometimes to be in a secular place like Alaska where many people don't know about church or Lutheranism and school sports are played the whole week through, Kit suggested it sounded like a good opportunity to define who we are instead of living with assumptions that may or may not be true. True.

We talked about vocation, churchwide concerns, sabbaticals, life in the parish and what happens when pastors try to change things in a parish. I learned about Kit's passion for and call to teaching. We talked about how people of faith can be more bold to live their faith in daily life, like telling someone you're praying for them, or saying a quiet prayer in a restaurant.

As I drove away from Wartburg, I felt renewed by the time with familiar colleagues and new friends. I felt hopeful about the future of the church and renewed with energy for my role in it.