"'For I Am with You and Will Rescue You'"

We gathered for daily worship in our interim pastor training course (which ended yesterday); an essential thing, given the clergy's propensity for thinking the fate of the church lies all on us. The experienced interim pastors taking the advanced course planned and led the worship. On Thursday, the woman with preaching duty reflected on how down churches and church members can get on their potential and possibilities. How it's so easy to focus on past failures and present ordeals. "It's just too hard for me," is the woeful refrain.

And ain't it the truth . . . !

And I thought, that sounds like a blues song! "It's just too hard, too hard for me . . . " Yeah. So let's write the rest of it. Except, I'm going to call it

The Pastor's Lament

It's just too hard, too hard for me,

I wanna lay this burden down;

This road's too high, too long and weary,

It's just too hard for me.

But nothing's too hard for my Jesus,

There's nothing too hard for my Lord.

He carried my load up Calvary Road;

There's nothing too hard for Him.

We're poor and broke, no money's comin',

I wanna lay this burden down;

The roof has leaks, the walls are crumblin',

It's just too hard for me.

But nothing's too hard for my Jesus . . .

The world's no help, and evil's knockin',

I wanna lay this burden down;

I tell the truth, seems no one listens,

It's just too hard for me.

But nothing's too hard for my Jesus . . .

Sometimes it seems that there's no use in tryin';

Sometimes it feels I'm a fool to go on.

Young folk don't care and the old folks keep dyin',

It's just too hard for me.

But nothing's too hard for me with my Jesus,

Nothing's too hard for me with my Lord;

He lifted my load on Calvary's road,

There's nothing too hard for Him.

(Copyright 2005, St. Blogwen's Well)

This is a work in progress, of course. And I reserve the right to change it around whenever the inspiration hits me. But I suppose it's the same with pastoring, interim or otherwise. It's always a work in progress. And it's not going to be done-- or done well-- without a large dose of in-Spir(it)-ation!

"Without Spot or Wrinkle or Any Kind of Blemish"

I'm here in wild and musical Austin, Texas, attending an intensive, week-long training course for pastors doing or thinking of doing intentional interim ministry. The word "intentional" is intentional. The idea is that one comes in after the departure of an installed pastor and helps the congregation come to terms with its history, its identity, its mission and goals, its conflict points, and so forth. In short, helps them redd up the place so a) they go looking for the right kind of new installed pastor, and b) the new installed pastor has a better chance at making a go of his or her ministry.

That's the idea. But after one afternoon and evening of class discussions, I'm already discovering that some people here think that isn't really possible. That congregations' issues and problems are so ingrained, that no amount of work will ever change anything. That unhealthy systems are unhealthy systems, and there is no cure.

My immediate response to that was, what are we here on this course for, then? If we'd just be wasting our efforts trying to bring light and hope and self-awareness to church situations, let's just lead Sunday services and visit Aunt Tilly in the hospital while the pulpit committee's doing their work, and then hand the stinking filthy baby to the new installed pastor for him or her to cope with.

Of course, my immediate response really "should" be is that Jesus transforms all. That He's in the business of changing lives, and that includes (she said ironically) lives in the church. But it's true-- some of the most resistant characters are sitting in the pews, and the holy church of our Lord Jesus Christ can attract some of the most unholy behavior. (Do I hear a word beginning with "Phar . . . "?) It's almost enough to make a pastor flee in frustration and take up real estate selling instead.

Almost, but not quite. It helps to remember what St. Augustine said about the church being a corpus mixtus-- a mixed body of the good and the bad and the in-between. And except in the case of flagrant, scandalous sin, it isn't usually our job as pastors to sort everyone out. God could do it right now if He wanted to, but for some reason He hasn't chosen to disclose to us, He doesn't. But while we can't order the Almighty to change our churches on demand, we can ask Him to change us, to help us be the sort of people who can make healthy change possible. That goes for lay men and women as well as for pastors.

Most of all, it helps me to remember what St. Paul says in his letter to the Ephesians, that someday Christ is going to present His Church to Himself as a pure bride, without spot or wrinkle or any kind of blemish. Can I forecast how that is going to happen? No, I can not. Do I think it will be Christ's greatest miracle since the Resurrection? Yes, I do. But the Holy Spirit says it's going to happen, and therefore I believe that happen it will.

And that perhaps, my participating in this course this week will make me better equipped to be one who in some small way will help bring that miracle to pass.

"The Creation Waits in Eager Expectation . . . "

Thursday morning I had an appointment at the doctor's office. In time I was ensconced in the examination room, in that state of deshabille that is required of one in doctors' examination rooms. But the doctor did not appear. I waited and waited and waited some more, yet the doctor did not come. There was nothing to read in the examination room, only a few posters of adorable children on the walls and one on the ceiling, depicting a tree being struck by lightning-- which I take as an example of my doctor's sense of humor. Even if there had been anything to read in the room, I wouldn't've wanted to get up and fetch it. It was chilly enough in there as it was and I didn't want to raise a draft.

But I had to do something to pass the time. So I made up a waiting song. And after I went home, I finished it. Here it is:

We are waiting,
We are waiting
For the sons of God to be revealed;
When all creation
Will shout in wonder
When we shall be revealed.

M: Who are the sons of God?
W: All who believe in Christ,
A: Male and female, Jew and Gentile,
We are the sons of God!

And we are waiting . . .

W: How does He give us life?
M: By dying for our sins;
A: Took our punishment on Calv’ry,
Jesus the Son of God.

And we are waiting . . .

M: How does He make us sons?
W: By rising from the dead;
A: Puts His life eternal in us
And makes us sons of God.

And we are waiting . . .

W: What is our hope and prayer?
M: Our rising from the grave;
A: Clothed with Jesus Christ forever,
Adopted sons of God!

And we are waiting . . .

(Copyright 2005 St. Blogwen's Well)

This evening, I wrote down the tune for it. The chorus is behaving very badly, wanting to sound entirely too much like the kids' song "Father Abraham." It's a traditional song, but I hate anything that smells like plagiarism. Nevertheless, it's what the words wanted, so it is what it is.

And my doctor's visit? Oh, that revealed that all is well. And may it be the last of its sort for a good long time!

"Good on Ya When . . . "

My motto in the morning is "No sudden moves!" And so I ease myself into consciousness with the help of Christian radio. Sunday morning one program's speaker was describing the persecutions Christians overseas are braving for the cause of Christ. The next preacher was dealing with the Beatitudes of Matthew 5, pointing out that this passage paints a portrait of one who is truly dedicated to Jesus-- because it is a portrait of Jesus Himself. Me, I decided that if I truly am committed to Christ, the very least I could do is get out of bed and get ready for church!

But those preachers got me thinking. My New Testament professor in seminary told us that the Greek customarily translated "Blessed are . . . " would be well-rendered by the Aussie phrase, "Good on ya!" That stuck with me. It seems more dynamic than "blessed," somehow. It reminds me that this passage is about God's people striving to have God's attitudes and to do God's work. And it reminds me that God reaches down and supports and enables and rewards that effort. "Good on ya when you're poor in spirit; that'll get you the kingdom of heaven!" "Good on ya when people give you all sorts of grief for my sake and you take it patiently; for that I'll reward you beyond your wildest dreams!"

As I was dressing, the words to a worship song came to me, based on the Beatitudes. A sung prayer, actually. It goes like this:

Make us like you, Lord Jesus,
Make us like you.
As you are humble, Master,
Make us like you.

Make us like you, Lord Jesus,
Make us like you.
As you mourn over sin, Lord,
Make us like you.

Make us like you, Lord Jesus,
Make us like you.
In your strong gentleness, Lord,
Make us like you.

Make us like you, Lord Jesus,
Make us like you;
Thirsty for righteousness, Lord,
Make us like you.

Make us like you, Lord Jesus,
Make us like you;
As you are merciful, Lord,
Make us like you.

Make us like you, Lord Jesus,
Make us like you;
As you are pure in heart, Lord,
Make us like you.

Make us like you, Lord Jesus,
Make us like you;
As you make peace, O Savior,
Make us like you.

Make us like you, Lord Jesus,
Make us like you;
Suff'ring for righteousness, Lord,
Make us like you.

Make us like you, Lord Jesus,
Make us like you;
Bearing shame for your sake, Lord,
Make us like you.

(Bridge)
For you died to heal our sinfulness,
And you rose to seal our faithfulness.

Make us like you, Lord Jesus,
Make us like you;
Sharing your blessedness, Lord,
Glad in your joyfulness, Lord,
Receiving all that's best, Lord,
Make us like you!

(Copyright 2005, St. Blogwen's Well)

I haven't decided on a tune yet. It needs to be something simple, but also something that'll bear repetition. Maybe when I get a problem with my FinaleNotepad software straightened out, I can come up with something and post it later.

In the meantime, if you find this little song helpful, and if it inspires you to become more like our Lord, well, good on ya!

"In the Beginning Was the Word . . . "

Having decided to launch myself into the blogosphere, I couldn't help noticing something about the "equipment" on the way. The templates provided by the very helpful people at Blogger.com are filled in with verbiage-- if one may call it that-- that looks like a collision between Cambodian, German, and a few other tongues, followed by some very doggy Latin. And blimey if I wasn't trying to make sense out of it! I could feel where the nouns, verbs, adjectives, articles, and all the other parts of speech were, as if it had been written in a real language! Of course, I was doing it according to my understanding of English syntax. Someone who really spoke Cambodian or German would most likely tell me, "No, the verb is there and the noun is there!" But I'd willingly bet that their heads would be wired to want to find sense in that gibberish, too.

For there's something in a human being that wants to find meaning in letters and words. There's something in every person with half an education that will try to find it, when it isn't even there! Think how we spent our teenage years ascribing deep philosophical import to the vacuous lyrics of the rock and roll songs! And no matter how picture-oriented our culture becomes, no matter how badly we mangle our mother-tongue (and we do, we do!), we want our words to carry us into the hearts and minds of other people, and we want to feel that the words of others really convey them to us. We feel instinctively that what we say and what we write is an image and likeness of who we are; or at least, is the image we wish to present to the world. To those around us, we are our words.

And that isn't surprising, is it, since we're made in the image of the Triune God? "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God." Jesus the Word expresses the Father; our words express ourselves.

Only trouble is, our words fall so dismally short of doing that for us! Broken-backed, crippled, loaded with more than they can ever carry, they return to us shamefaced when they-- and we-- are misinterpreted and misunderstood. And I and my words will be no exception. Still, as my blog-rocket gains altitude, I hope my writing can express something worth expressing. And if not, may the Father of mercies cover them with blessed silence!