Broken engagments, spilled toothpaste

Not long ago, someone I know and love called off their engagement. They'd been together a couple of years and are employed, functional and thoughtful people. They just weren't the right match.

I'll spare the rest of the details, but suffice it to say it was significantly painful for all involved. The wedding day was pretty close. Now there are gifts to return, living arrangements to re-arrange and broken hearst to slowly mend, his and hers.

Still, you have to give them credit. It would have been worse if the wedding had happened and then they decided the relationship was over. Better not to get the lawyers invovled, one friend said.

As for the couple, I'd asked them before about pre-marital counseling. They did it, one said, but wished aloud the counseling could have started earlier. I wish we'd had counseling before we got engaged, one said.

As a pastor, I've led more than a dozen couples through pre-marital counseling using a curriculum called "Prepare-Enrich." It's pretty good, though when a couple comes in with an engagement ring and a white dress hanging in the closet, the counseling often feels like an after-thought.

I've often thought about doing "pre-engagement" counseling. Or maybe a class. It's over-looked and needed. Here's my question: who really teaches us, as young adults, how to have healthy relationships?

Some of us learn from our parents. Now I love my parents, but there are plenty of things I'm not about to copy (at least on purpose) in my own marriage. Marriage counseling helped me see this, but at that point I'd already decided to wed Erik, come hell or high water.

Perhaps we learn about marriage from watching other couples, from our extended families or from TV, movies and books. These may not be the most helpful places to learn about everlasting love. It's not all roses and champagne, as anyone who's been married for 10 seconds knows all too well.

Beyond marriage, how do we even learn how to have healthy dating relationships? Healthy friendships? Healthy boundaries? Healthy sexuality?

A few years ago, some Lutheran clergy in town decided this was important and tackled it on the middle school level. We held a middle school relationship retreat, which we've held every two years. The point isn't just to talk about sex (no condoms on bananas here) but to talk about what makes a relationship healthy. The topic of sex and bodies does come up, but it's in the context of healthy relationships. God wants us to be in healthy, mutual relationships, where we care for the other as part of the body of Christ. Not so easy to love one another as Christ loved you when you abuse someone or use them for sex! The ELCA's study on human sexuality and the use of Galatians (care for the neighbor) informed some of our work.

The retreats were good, but I keep wishing there was more we could do. I sometimes see high school youth and young adults from Central posting things on Facebook about relationships and I just want to take them under my wing and share something of what my faith and life has taught me. Like it's okay to set boundaries and you don't owe anyone anything, especially when it comes to your own body.

Sometimes, our own discomfort as adults with the topic of sex makes it hard to talk about. This has gotten easier for me. Of note: my first year at Central, I spent a week in Confirmation teaching about each of the 10 commandments. After my lecture on the 6th commandment (thou shalt not commit adultery) I was so vague that a young boy named Jack raised his hand and said, "Pastor Lisa, I have no idea what you are talking about."

Last year in Confirmation class, I borrowed an idea from a pastor friend: I pulled out a tube of toothpaste, squirted it into a cup and passed it around. Whilst doing this, I said, "This toothpaste is like your sexuality. (Every eye was glued on me now). How is toothpaste intended to be used? From the tube. Does it work when you scrape it out of the cup? Yes, but it's not the way it was intended. How is sexuality meant to be used, ideally? In a committed relationship? Does it work other ways? Sure, but it's not the way God intended."

At least 10 students were blushing by the time I'd finished. One told me the next week she couldn't look at toothpaste the same again. Okay, I might have blushed a little, too.

It's a start, anyway. But there's so much more to be taught and learned, throughout our lives.

Post-Sabbatical Wrap-up

Today at Central (6/24) we had a post-sabbatical forum, where I shared what I learned on sabbatical and some impressions and ideas for me and for Central for the future. There were almost 50 people there and we had some good brunch, too.

Here's the hand-out that I distributed. It was a way to report, share and be accountable for the time away. I also showed some slides (oooh, old lingo!) from some churches I visited and some of my adventures from Hawaii, New Zealand and Iowa, as well as Alaska adventures. If you've read the blog, you've heard some of this. But it's an interesting experience for me to process the experience now that more time has passed (almost three months) and it's time to think about what it means for our ministry at Central.

After the presentation, we had a time for small group discussion of the sabbatical themes and some brainstorming about mission, membership and vocation. It was a good time; thanks to all who attended!

Post-Sabbatical Presentation

June 24, 2012

The intention of sabbatical is to rest, re-new and re-charge for ministry. It is a time to reconnect to God and others. It's a time for new experiences and new ideas to re-fresh and inspire. The Lilly grant I received asked applicants to consider, “What makes your heart sing?” For me, it was slowing my pace of life, travel, time with Erik and my family, being outside and active, meeting new people, reading and learning new ideas.

Where I went:

Hawaii, yoga retreat

Byberg Preaching Conference, Issaquah, WA

New Zealand, vacation

Iowa, family visit

Resurrection Pass, ski trip

Churches I attended: St. Mary's Episopal and Trinity Presbyterian in Anchorage, Lutheran Church of the Holy Trinity in Kona, St. John Lutheran in Iowa, Wartburg College Chapel in Iowa

Pastors I visited: Two in Hawaii, one in New Zealand, several at Wartburg College

Preaching: Byberg Preaching Conference, guest preacher; Lutheran Church of the Holy Trinity, Kona; Wartburg College Chapel Service.

Books I read:

UnChristian, by David Kinnamon and Gabe Lyons

Several of the Harry Hole crime novels, by Jo Nesbo

Let Your Life Speak, by Parker Palmer

The Pastor, by Eugene Petersen

Theme: Faith stories, faith in daily life, vocation

Congregational activities: vocation study, Fall 2011; faith story project, Lent 2012; sabbatical forums, Spring 2012; Women's Retreat, April 2012.

How I ordered my days:

Each morning I started with yoga, meditation and centering prayer. Most days I spent time reading, journal-writing or blogging or writing sermons. Those three sermons gave me three Bible passages to sit with during the sabbatical. I thought a lot about vocation. I learned about my grandmother's faith story. I spent more time with Erik and matched my life to the rhythm of his schedule. I cooked a lot. I cleaned a lot. I did household projects.

What I learned about myself:

I am a busy person. For the most part, I like it and it's who I am. But I need to continue to learn to slow down, make space and rest. When my life slowed down on sabbatical, I felt like I was a kinder and gentler person. I had more time and energy for Erik and others. During sabbatical, I felt like I got quiet on the inside, a feeling I haven't had in some time. I felt like I was noticing the presence and work of God everywhere and inside me.

I really liked blogging more regularly. It was a good discipline and it helped me weave God into my daily life. I got good feedback from the blog, many people said they were reading it. It makes me think more about the blog as a ministry tool.

People have often told me they could feel the prayers of others. I had never felt it before, until sabbatical. I actually could feel the prayers from members of the congregation. I could feel the presence of their love, support and prayers. It's hard to explain, but I could definitely feel the prayers.

What I learned about sabbaticals:

Sabbatical really works! I went a little crazy at first, trying to downshift. I felt lost without a hectic schedule. It took about two weeks to let go and I spent the last two weeks ramping up again. The real magic of sabbatical happened in the eight or so weeks in between. A sabbatical of at least 12 weeks is essential. I could have taken 16 and it would not have been too much.

What I learned about the theme:

I appreciated Parker Palmer's book about vocation. It reminded me that you can't force your vocation or call based on an idea of what you think you “should” be doing. You have to listen to your life, let your life speak. One idea: look at what you did, what you were good at, and what brought you joy as a child. This is a clue to your true gifts and calling.

Vocation is not a goal to be achieved but a gift to be received. (Palmer)

Another idea from Palmer is the Quaker notion of “way will open.” The premise is that when trying to find your calling, a way will open. One way to discern is to see what ways have closed. When things just work out, that may be a sign. A pastor I met in Honolulu told me about how he took the call there and things just lined up. I felt the same way about the sabbatical. I wasn't going to take it, but then the congregation was accepting and welcoming, my husband agreed and then I won the grant.

What I learned about being a pastor:

Eugene Peterson introduced me to the phrase “the unbusy pastor.” I'm busy a lot and I'd like to be less so. I'd like to spend more time really being with and listening to people. I thought about how to be a present pastor rather than a busy one.

To write a good sermon, a pastor must be engaged in the life of the congregation, doing home visits and/or 1-1 visits. I read this first in Peterson's book and then it was reinforced and then heard it again at the Byberg conference. This might be the single most important thing I learned. It might sound simple, but it's easy to forget with programming and other busy-ness.

What I learned about preaching:

I got some great insights at the Byberg Preaching Conference. Here are a few of my favorites.

* Hearers want to know if we have seen and know the Risen Christ? People must trust that you have experienced and articulated grace before they will ever accept law from you.

* Visitation is key to sermon preparation.

* Getting congregation involved in the sermon (some ideas): email questions about the texts to people on Monday and weave their questions/ideas into Sundays sermon; lay people pray with pastor before worship; lay people give feedback about sermon.

What I learned about my call:

I felt re-affirmed in my call to pastor, in part by the affirmations after the three sermons I preached while on sabbatical. I also felt re-affirmed in my call as a wife. I feel more and more called to love and partner with Erik as if its my job. Because it is. It gives new meaning to the pot roast I learned how to cook and the time I spent organizing and cleaning.

What I learned about church:

We may need to re-think what it means to be a member of a church. I thought a lot about what my friend Pastor Marty does when people join his church. He reminds them there are four things members promise: to worship regularly, to find their talent and use it at church, to pray for the church and leaders and to be faithful in financial giving. Would this work here? Or should we go the other direction and “de-centralize Central?”

From the vocation study last fall, I thought a lot about how we can practice being church wherever we go. I still don't know what we could do in worship that would help people see that they are the church in the world. One problem I see is that we don't always know what each other does in daily life, whether work, family duties or volunteering. How could we learn about each other?

One thing I'd like to do is visit people at their places of work. It could be a tour of their job-site, lunch in the cafeteria, or coffee nearby.

What I learned about welcome

One church I visited smothered me with so much welcome that I ran into the bathroom to hide. At another church, just a few people greeted me and that was much better. Every church I visited followed up with an email. Two churches gave me a “visitor welcome packet” that included helpful information and some goodies. One announced that any interested visitor could hang out under a certain banner for a “two minute conversation” after worship, where someone was waiting with a little gift bag. I liked this.

Many of the churches I visited use a projector during worship. Some project the entire service. One church had a play area for kids in the corner of the sanctuary.

What's next for us as Central?

Is it time to re-do our vision statement? Re-consider our role as a church in Fairview? The homeless project was very energizing. What does this say about us?

What about marketing? Could we re-do our logo? What about getting T-shirts?

Are we using social media in the best way we could?

How will we utilize the new projector that's set to be installed later this summer?

How are we doing at greeting visitors? Following up with those who've been absent?

Claimed, Cleansed and Called: A Sermon for Holy Trinity/Confirmation Sunday

(I gave this sermon on Sunday, June 3, on the Festival of the Holy Trinity. Shortly after this sermon, two young people from Central affirmed their baptism and read their faith stories. They were terrific. I also showed some images during the sermon. A few of them are included here.)

Five years ago, two girlfriends and I backpacked over the Kesugi Ridge trail in Denali State Park. It’s a 27-mile point-to-point trek that climbs to a ridge line with amazing views of Denali and follows a rolling trail back down to Byers Lake. We saw very few other hikers and no facilities. There are no signs along to way point you in the right direction save for a few rock cairns (little piles of rock) scattered along the trail. It’s hard to know how far you’ve come and how far you have yet to go, especially if you are carrying a cheap topography map instead of the expensive (and accurate) one you should have bought at REI.

To make a long story short, we had told our families and friends we’d be out by noon on the third day, at the latest. When we woke up that morning and begin to hike out, expecting to hike a 3-4 miles, we instead came upon a sign mid-morning that said, 13 miles to Byers Lake. It was the one and only sign we ever saw. Then it started to rain (hard) and the wind began to blow.

About 14 hours later after having only eaten oatmeal, peanut butter, two tortillas a handful of carrots (that was all the food we had left for three of us), we arrived at 1 am at the trailhead to cell phone messages from worried friends and anxious family. It was not my finest hour.

Lesson learned: it’s really important to know where you are and how to get to where you are going.

It is one thing to find your way on a trail, but the journey of faith and life of Christian discipleship can be infinitely harder. Where is God calling you? What does God want from us? Was there something you were supposed to be doing with your life? What can we know for certain of God? What can we know for certain about our life of faith? Is it a well-marked path or a tangle of Devil’s club and willow branches?

The thing is, sometimes we think we know. Many of us have been following Jesus for a long time and think we have some things about God figured out. Perhaps we go to God with a litany of things we know and things we’d like. Perhaps Nicodemus in John’s gospel for today went to Jesus in this same way.

Nicodemus is a Pharisee, a leader of the Jews. He’s captivated by or curious about Jesus and presents himself to Jesus not with a question but with certainty. “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” What did Nicodemus want from Jesus? A response? An explanation? A thank you for being so smart? Whatever it was, what he got was a lot more questions. Jesus tells Nicodemus he must be born again, born from above. He must be born of water and of Spirit.

Nicodemus replies eloquently: “Huh?” He asks several questions and Jesus responds by teasing him (to put it nicely) that he ought to know since he (Nicodemus) is a teacher of Israel.

Yet, the story of Nicodemus doesn’t end there. He continues on his faith journey, though we only have hints of where it leads him. In John 7:50, Nicodemus sticks up for Jesus when some Pharisees want to arrest him. Later in John 19:39, he brings myrrh and aloe to anoint Jesus body. He helps wrap the body in linen and lay it in the tomb.

Nicodemus may come to Jesus with certainty but he leaves with questions, a relationship and the willingness to speak up and to serve. It’s not a bad faith story.

What about us? What about you? How do you come to Jesus? What are you looking for? What do you know? Where do you still question? It’s been said that the opposite of faith isn’t doubt, it’s certainty. It’s also been said that anytime you are absolutely certain that God is on your side, it’s time to get a second opinion.

Perhaps Jesus is un-doing Nicodemus’ certainty so that he can better see. Perhaps when we become too sure of what we know about God or believe we have grasped him at last, we can expect to be undone as Nicodemus was. And to be undone is good news if it allows us to experience anew the miracle of our birth into eternal life: our baptism. We had about as much to do with the miracle of our baptism as we had to do with the miracle of our birth from our mother’s womb. It is simply a gift.

It is simply, a calling.

When Isaiah was called in today’s reading from Isaiah 6, he saw the glory and terror of the Lord with a robe that filled the temple. One scholar I read to prepare for this sermon said perhaps the seraphs (who covered their faces so as not to look on the glory of God) were not singing “Holy, Holy, Holy” with pleasant adoration but with terror and in fear.

Isaiah himself trembles at the mystery and majesty of God. A seraph approaches him and touches a burning coal to his lips. One imagines he’s now marked for life. God speaks: “Your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.” Isaiah responds: “Here I am, send me.”

Confirmation students: no burning coal shall mark you for life. You are already marked. You were marked on the day of your baptism; the cross of Christ rests upon your brow forever. God has washed away your sin. You are forever claimed, cleansed and called by God, regardless of your input or your opinion.

Now God calls you out, out to serve in a world of people just as lost as I was on the Kesugi Ridge trail. God calls you into a world where people are lost in places of loneliness, self-doubt, guilt and pain. God calls you into a world where people are desperately seeking signs of kindness, mercy, acceptance, hope and peace. You are, since the day of your baptism and even more now, claimed, cleansed and called by God, regardless of your input or opinion.

A pastor writing in the Christian Century recently wrote about baptizing a two-year-old little boy. As he made the sign of the cross on the boy’s forehead, he offered this blessing, “You are a child of God, sealed by the Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.” The little boy exclaimed, “Uh-oh.”

Uh-oh, indeed. For when we accept our calling as baptized children of God, things can change, and things can happen that we don’t expect. But we as your congregation at Central Lutheran Church promise this day to walk with you. The world is big and scary, we know because we live there, too. But we are here to walk with you, support you, pray for you and get to know you.

You, the members of this congregation have already done so much and today we recognize all those who volunteer at Central. But you, too, are claimed, cleansed and called by God, regardless of your input or opinion.

This summer at Central, we’ve chosen to focus on community and on building relationships and connections among our church family. This is a nice thing to do but it’s also a sacred and holy calling. When theologians talk about community, they often talk about the Trinity: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. How does that work? Who knows? It is a holy mystery, meant for us to revere instead of comprehend.

But we do know this: it works as a holy community, a sacred unity of relationship between God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. We know that holy communities matter to God, because God is a holy community. And so are we. Amen.

Denali KidCare: A Love Story

We didn't have insurance when I was a child. That wasn't so rare in my neighborhood and in those days. Mom paid $40 for each of her children to get an annual sports physical. We drank hot tea and lemon when we had a cold, 7-Up when we had the flu. Mom told us to be careful and gave us vitamins and sunscreen. For the most part, we were just fine.

But some kids aren't. In 2009, more than 8.3 million children across the nation were uninsured, according to an Urban Institute/Kaiser Commission estimate. In Alaska, the number of uninsured kids is estimated at more than 27,000, according to the American Academy of Pediatrics. Although my family made do with home remedies and avoided major accidents, many kids aren't as lucky. Parents choose rent and food over paying for insurance. Sometimes, accidents happen. Chronic illness happens. People take out loans to pay for medical coverage and fall deeper into poverty. Even if nothing happens, people live in fear.

When I got old enough to understand what it meant not to have insurance, I was scared, too. I didn't have medical insurance until I got my first job at 22 as a reporter at a daily newspaper. Both my brother and sister went for periods in adulthood with no medical insurance. My parents, self-employed farmers not old enough for Medicare, have no insurance. They go to low-income clinics for basic care. Their children are holding their breath until they turn 65.

Thankfully, there was a reprieve in childhood for my younger sister. In 1997, the federal government implemented the Children’s Health Insurance Program (CHIP) which gave states financial support to expand health care coverage for uninsured children who are not eligible for Medicaid. In Iowa, it's called Hawk-I; my sister went on shortly after 1997 (she was 11 then), and was covered until she turned 18. In 1997, my brother and I were already too old (aged 18 and 20).

In Alaska, the program is called Denali Kid Care (DKC). States grant eligibility at different levels. In Iowa, children of families under 300% of the Federal Poverty Level (FPL) are eligible. In Alaska, it's 175% FPL, or a little over $50,400 for a family of four. 47 states in the nation provide children’s health care for families at or above 200% FPL, putting Alaska at the bottom of the heap.

In 2007, I had a chance to study this issue and to, hopefully, make a difference. Our local organizing ministry (part of the city-wide AFACT, Anchorage Faith and Action- Congregations Together) started working on the issue of DKC. Faith-based community organizations don't just pick an issue. We listen to members, through 1-1 visits, in our congregations and communities to hear what issues concern our folks. Then we work together, with public officials, for lasting change. AFACT is a group of 15 diverse congregations in Anchorage and we represent more than 10,000 people.

The issue of Denali Kid Care surfaced in 1-1 visits. I heard it from families of our neighborhood Drop-in-Center and the West Fairview Campfire site we host. AFACT leaders across Anchorage heard similar concerns, so we formed a temporary organizing committee in 2007 to focus on DKC.

Over the past five years, we have held three public meetings with public officials about DKC. After an AFACT public meeting in 2007, the legislature increased eligibility from 150% FPL to 175%. In 2010, regulations for DKC were changed to give families 12-month continuous eligibility instead of having to re-apply every six months. Even so, Alaska remained at the bottom of the national charts on children's health care, still a firm 48^th in the nation.

Yet it was exciting to work with the other AFACT congregations on this issue. More and more families were getting health care for their kids. We worked collaboratively with public officials. The energy was terrific. Our AFACT leaders worked hard. We met with almost every Anchorage-area legislator. We held public meetings. We did 1-1 visits with our families. We traveled to Juneau to meet with legislators. We even met with the governor in August of 2009, who told us that he would not stand in the way of DKC expansion. In the spring of 2010, the legislature approved one more increase to DKC that would put our wealthy state on par with other states, an increase to 200% FPL. We were thrilled for ourselves and for our families.

Then, in June 2010, with no warning, the governor vetoed the DKC expansion bill because, he said, he had just found out that the services DKC provides for pregnant woman can include abortions.

The blow was immense to our organization. We were an ecumenical group of Lutherans, Catholics, non-denominational churches and Methodists. We didn't agree on abortion but that wasn't the point. Our faith motivated all of us to care deeply for children without health care. We cared about kids who couldn't care for themselves, motivated by the One who welcomed the lost, the least and the left-out.

Though discouraged, the leaders of AFACT agreed to move tentatively forward. We did more research with legislators, Health and Human Services staff members and the governor's staff to figure how to get more kids covered in a way that the governor could support. We thought we had it: expand DKC to cover more kids in the 0-12 range. We continued our research, this time with allies across the state who might support this plan. We thought we had buy-in among legislators. Senator Bettye Davis, who had been the original sponsor of DKC expansion legislation agreed (after persuasion) to amend her bill to expand coverage for those 0-12.

In the end, though. The bill died. DKC expansion, may it rest in peace, died April 2012. Legislators on both sides of the aisle who told us they'd vote for the amended DKC expansion found other excuses and changed their minds. The committee chair never let the bill out of committee because there weren't enough votes for it to pass. Our Alaska legislative session (a two-year cycle) is now over. Will new legislation on DKC come up in the next cycle? It's not likely, given the political climate in Juneau.

We lost. Those kids who would have been covered in the expansion will have to figure another way to see a doctor. Some families will choose emergency room care for sore throats and flu viruses, not because they want to but because they have no other option.

When our national church, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, created a new hymn book in 2006, they put in a new section of hymns: lament. These songs weren't new, of course, nor is the notion of singing hymns of sorrow and pain. The church has done this for ages, when all manner of powers and principalities of the world triumph over peace and justice. There are times when the church and the people of God need to lament, not just for those who have left this earth but for failures we see all around us. I need to lament for Denali Kid Care.

AFACT needed to lament, too. A few weeks ago we held an all-AFACT worship service. We read passages of lament from the Exodus story. We talked about what it feels like to be in the wilderness. We talked about how God is with us there. We ended the service with praise, praise to the God who remains steadfast. With God, there is always hope.

So, good-bye, Denali Kid Care expansion. I grieve for what could have been for our families. Yet, I give thanks for this program that has tenderly cared for the youth in Alaska. I give thanks for the national SCHIP program that cared for my sister in her youth and adolescence. I wait with hope that the God of all nations will indeed, some day, make all things new.