Category Archives: Ministry

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Cellophane Transparency

Whenever we’re in a restaurant together my dad claims to be “Mr. Cellophane.” He says that people will look through him or past him just like he doesn’t exist. The problem is, he’s usually right. In his case, being transparent is not a good thing.

In the case of any leader, speaker, or writer, transparency is a good thing. These days people want genuine, honest, open, transparent leaders, speakers, and writers. Fake and formulaic is so “80’s.” Secrecy and false fronts are no longer acceptable after the days of Enron, the scandals of the Catholic Church, and internet viruses and spam.

I have noticed that in preaching sermons people have appreciated a generous peek into my less-than-perfect life. The day I spoke of the “terrible, horrible, no good, absolutely awful” week I had, and how the Word brought light and life into my darkness, positive comments about it almost doubled in comparison to many other sermons I preach. I was transparent. People were connected.

I have also observed people being very suspicious of leaders who seem to keep secrets. Secret keeping causes back room gossip, speculation, and anxiety. The more secrets the less cohesive a team or unit tends to be. The more secrets the less trust.

If you want to connect with an audience, team, or congregation, be transparent and honest. A number of years ago the local district of our church body had a budget that was deeply in the red. A new president came in and immediately instituted an open and transparent policy regarding budgeting, spending, and decision-making. Within a few short years the budget was back in balance and trust was developed throughout the district.

Granted, people don’t need to know every scar and wart of one’s background. Too much information is off-putting and just plain uncomfortable for an audience or team. But carefully chosen transparency is endearing and trust-building.

Being Mr. Cellophane in a restaurant may not be a good thing. Being Mr., Mrs., or Ms. Cellophane as a leader, speaker, or writer builds trust, confidence, and connection.

What insights do you have about transparency?

 

 

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The First 10 Minutes

The other day a student from a class before mine came out of the classroom and said, “Did I miss anything the first ten minutes I wasn’t there?” And the student to whom he was speaking said, “No. Not really.”

Oh, really?!


I hope no one says that about the classes I teach. I try not only to fill every minute of every class with something worthwhile, with some great “takeaway,” but I also try to see to it that each class begins with something valuable. It’s always important to pique interest, create anticipation, and provide continuity at the beginning of any new undertaking, including a seemingly run-of-the-mill class, task, or meeting.

I begin most of my classes with a ten-minute “starter” I call “Protocol.” Protocol is an opportunity for a student to review the contents of the previous class period, and then in some way carry that contents and those thoughts forward into the current class period. Over the years students have conducted game shows like Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune, they have created their own media presentations, or they have used crossword puzzles or fun quizzes.

The results have been very positive:

  • The students making the presentation have had to engage the material and learn it better themselves.
  • The students in the classroom receive the benefit of reviewing material in a fun atmosphere.
  • All material along the way is reviewed so that there is less “cramming” when it is time for an exam.
  • The first ten minutes of each class period are advantageous to the entire class.
  • Protocol is a springboard for new material.

This method works well in many areas of life, business, or ministry. A good book always has a great first sentence. A good meeting always has an energizing and creative start. A good sermon has an interesting introduction.

Books, meetings, sermons, and many other things in life benefit from reviewing older material and springboarding into new. The whole idea is to build on things we know so that we retain the old, engage the present material, and look forward to what we are yet to learn. I’m working through that process right now while I am learning all about creating and maintaining a self-hosted blog. It’s both frustrating and exhilarating, but boy, have I learned a great deal. And I can’t wait to learn more…building on top of what I already know.

How can you use the concept of “Protocol” in your work or daily life? How do you take advantage of the first ten minutes? I’d love to hear your ideas.

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What a Weekend

The disciples have supped. The feet have been washed. The betrayal has gone according to plan.

The arraignment is complete. The sentence has been rendered. The denials – all three of them – have been uttered.

The blood, sweat, and tears have flowed. The nails have pierced hands and feet. The criminals and crowd have wagged their tongues.

The sky has darkened. The cry has been wailed. The dead body has slumped.

The tomb has been borrowed. The corpse has been wrapped. The stone has been rolled. The guard has been posted. The night has become silent.

For you.

…And Sunday morning brings certain Triumph.

 

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I’m a Time Traveler

It happens most every holiday season: Christmas, Easter…even Pentecost. As a pastor, I become a time traveler. Today is the Monday of Holy Week and I am already celebrating the Resurrection. Because I have to prepare it all, I’ve already been at the Table on Thursday. I’ve cried at the foot of the cross on Friday. I’ve smelled the lilies of the Easter Vigil already a week before it happens. I’ve been humming Easter hymns all day today.

On the one hand it takes the anticipation out of it all. I know what’s going to happen before it already does. I know which hymns will be sung, what the liturgy will look like, and even what the theme of the sermons will be. I know that Jesus goes to the Upper Room, institutes the Lord’s Supper, washes His disciples’ feet, and then goes to Gethsemane to pray.  I know that He will end up going to trial before Pilate, be whipped and beaten, and be crucified on a cross.  I know that He will rest in the tomb Friday night, all day Saturday, and into the wee hours of Sunday morning.

And I know that He will rise again from the dead.

On the other hand, I get to anticipate the journey for all the members of the congregation. I know which members won’t miss a single one of the Holy Week services. I can already tell you the people who will really enjoy certain hymns. I have a heart for the congregants who will hear this years’ messages with an eye toward eternity…anticipating its arrival sooner than later.

In the end, Holy Week reminds us that all Christians are time travelers. We were present for the Fall in the Garden. We were rescued from the slavery of Egypt through the parted waters of the Red Sea. We were exiled in Babylon. We made the journey back home to Jerusalem. We were at the Manger. We witnessed the Miracles and listened to the Teaching. We supped in the Upper Room, cried at the Cross, and peeked into the Empty Tomb.

But the key to the time travel is the anticipation. As we walk the Via Dolorosa this week, we will be walking through the gem studded gates. We will walk the streets of gold. We will cast our crowns upon the glassy sea. We will circle the throne of the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.

The pastor isn’t the only time traveler in Holy Week. We all go back to the beginning of time and feel the effects of the Fall. We all cry at the cross. We all rejoice at the empty tomb. And we all feel the cool, smooth streets of gold beneath our bare feet.

Get ready for a journey of epic proportions. It will all end in the place where time never ends.

What does Holy Week mean to you?

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Resisting Resistance

I consider myself to be a pretty motivated guy. My problem is that occasionally (ahem!) my motivation gets sidetracked by other things. We live in a distracting world, and I live a distracted life. As a pastor, professor, and writer, I find myself pulled in every direction of the wind on an almost daily basis. I’ve got people to visit, classes to teach, a day school with which to connect, services to plan, and writing to do. Lots of writing to do.

I write newsletter articles, bulletin announcements, lesson plans, devotions, church email announcements, and sermons. As I always say, “Sundays never stop coming.” That means I find myself staring at a blank document on a computer screen weekly as I prepare to write about the text I have studied, the background I have gone over, the central theme I have deduced, and the illustrations I think will fit.

Have you ever tried to write something creative, thoughtful, memorable, and faithful every single week? It’s no easy task. It takes thorough background study, a unique “take,” a free-flowing outline, solid theology, and motivation. Lots of motivation.

I recently read The War of Art by Steven Pressfield. In the book I discovered something that I had suspected all along. I discovered something with which I had been battling all along. Pressfield named it for me and described it for me. The enemy with whom I have been battling much of my adult life is named Resistance.

Pressfield says:

Have you ever brought home a treadmill and let it gather dust in the attic?…Have you ever wanted to be a mother, a doctor, an advocate for the weak and helpless; to run for office, crusade for the planet, campaign for world peace, or to preserve the environment? Late at night have you experienced a vision of the person you might become, the work you could accomplish, the realized being you were meant to be? Are you a writer who doesn’t write, a painter who doesn’t paint, an entrepreneur who never starts a venture? Then you know what Resistance is. (The War of Art)

I’ll let you read for yourself Pressfield’s remedy to overcoming Resistance. But one of the things in the book that really struck me was the sentence, “No matter what, I will never let Resistance beat me.”

I am ultra-competitive by nature, and those are “fightin’ words.” I will never let Resistance beat me!

Yesterday it almost did. Every Friday night my wife and I go out somewhere for dinner. After a difficult week of work we enjoy a relaxing evening trying one of Milwaukee’s awesome restaurants, or an evening with friends, or a local wine bar that has Milwaukee’s finest selection. We look forward to it all week.

Yesterday afternoon I was working on my sermon for this coming Sunday, and it just wasn’t flowing. I was having a hard time getting more than three sentences down on the page. It was now almost 4 p.m. and I wasn’t getting anywhere. I said to my wife, “Are you ready to go somewhere?” She asked me if my sermon was finished, knowing full well that if I don’t get it finished by Friday, I’m a very unhappy and crabby person on Saturday morning.

Tammy told me gently, but firmly, to get my sermon finished. Ah, Resistance. You bitter, bitter enemy. You almost snuck one in there.

But when two battle against you, you will never win! Suddenly I had motivation. My sermon seemd to flow. I looked at the clock when I was finished and it was 6:01 p.m. Victory!

My reward? A wonderful evening out with my wife. A free Saturday morning. A sermon that is finished with creativity and textual faithfulness. A message that will be “shipped” Sunday morning.

A partner in the battle against Resistance is a good thing.

What do you do to battle Resistance?

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A Day in the Life of a Debit Card

Life is rough when you give until you can’t give anymore. But that’s who I am. It’s why I exist. To give everything I have so that people can get what they need…and sometimes what they greed.

Some days I’m busy. Other days I just sit. But today was an eventful day, to say the least. When I woke up I was at the mall. In the wallet. Out of the wallet. Sliding through the slot. Pin number punch-in. Giving away funds. Back in the wallet. Time for a rest. Woops. Back out of the wallet. Sliding through the slot. Pin number punch-in. Giving away funds. Back in the wallet. Time for another rest.

I enjoyed the scents of the mall while my cents were being depleted. It’s one of my favorite places to go. I get to taste and touch such variety.

My owner gave me to her daughter to do some shopping, and I was enjoying the ride. We went through department stores, specialty shops, and a big book retailer. We tested perfume, tried on sweaters, and looked through magazines. But my senses really perked up when I began to sniff the deliciousness of P.F. Chang’s. Mmmm. One of my favorite restaurants. I could sit there all day and simply bask.

One more time. In the wallet. Out of the wallet. Sliding through the slot. Pin number punch-in. Giving away funds.

But this time…NOT back in the wallet. I stay in the hand. We walk out the door. It seems like it all happens in slow motion. I hear some giggles. I feel myself in the hand, but waving in the air. The next thing I know I am fluttering in the wind, falling to the street, coming to rest on a yellow line. Just when I think the ordeal is over, something black and round runs over me, and I am down for the count.

After that I don’t remember anything at all until I feel my limp body being picked up by an unfamiliar hand. I’ve heard horror stories from my comrades about being in the wrong hands, hands other than owners’ hands. I’m terrified. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want my owners funds to be completely depleted.

Just when I think my life is about to end in shreds I hear a voice speaking to my owner. “I found it in the street and didn’t want anyone to pick it up and use it….yes, I know where that is…yes, I’m not far from there…I’ll bring it to you in just a little while.”

While I’m still a bit nervous, I’m starting to feel more safe. Hmmm. I enjoy this car. It’s kind of nice. And it it’s taking me back to my owner…even better! There she is!

I get picked up, placed into her hands, and I’m home…safe and sound. I hope I never have to go through that again.

Even those who give, and give, and give some more get lost sometimes. They need respite, rest, and rescue.

You who give so much…what do you and where do you go to get respite, and rest, and rescue?

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An Ash Wednesday Giggle

Today I placed more than 250 ashen crosses on foreheads. Being a pastor provides a unique perspective on Ash Wednesday. As my blackened thumb drew each cross I spoke the words: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Talk about a “wake-up call” in word and in action. It’s stark. It’s almost “off-putting.” It’s a little uncomfortable.

Tall people, short people, young people, old people. People with high foreheads and low foreheads. People who could barely kneel and people who nearly leapt up to the rail. They all received ashes in the shape of a cross.

Ashes are a reminder of God’s Words to Adam in Genesis 3: “Dust you are. To dust you shall return.” Sin had entered the world, and with it, death. Not just for Adam, but for everyone.

But these ashes are in the shape of a cross: A reminder of the death of Jesus Christ to win for us salvation from sin and death. Death is a reality. But eternal life is now a much greater, deeper reality to all who have received the gift of faith. Forgiveness has carried the day. Not just for Adam, but for everyone.

The youngest person who received ashes from my thumb this Ash Wednesday was three months old. The oldest was ninety-three. Ashes were imposed on all 180 children in our school, and on most every person in our two worship services. Young or old, all will one day die a physical death. But it need not be the end.

When I was finished with the imposition of ashes I looked out into the church and saw a whole crowd of people with little black smudges on their foreheads. If you saw it, it might almost make you giggle. That might sound inappropriate on such a solemn occasion. But if you think about it, it may be the most appropriate reaction one could have.

Life has conquered death. At the end of the day the smudge of ash can be wiped off, just like physical death will one day be wiped away by new and eternal life. That ought to produce a bit of a giggle…right?!

Ash Wednesday is a chance for the Christian to laugh in the face of death. It marks the beginning of the forty days of Lent, a solemn season filled with contrition, sorrow over sin, and repentance. At the end of the forty days is the death of the Son of God.

But on the Third Day He comes dancing out of the grave laughing in the face of death, bringing joy to His people and life forevermore. So, go ahead. Laugh along!

What are your Ash Wednesday thoughts?

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I Am A Person

Going through a medical procedure makes one feel like “everyhuman.” There I lay in my hospital gown, I.V. in my hand, oxygen in my nose, soft music playing over the speaker, two nurses talking about their families, waiting for the doctor to come in and do my “procedure.”

Those two nurses do it every day for who knows how many people. To them, I was just “patient number six” (or whatever) that day. They do these procedures eight or ten times a day, every day, every week, every month, all year. Nameless, faceless bodies come through, table by table, tick off the check list, help the doctor. Next!

As I lay there waiting for the world to spin away through sedation, listening to two nurses talk, I wanted to scream: “I am a person!” Don’t get me wrong. They were very nice and very pleasant. But I felt anonymous just lying there. They didn’t know know what I do for a living. They knew nothing about my wife. They didn’t realize that I have two children living nine hours away from me in two different directions. They didn’t know that I love U2 concerts, riding my bike, and writing my blog.

Human beings have need for intimacy. We have a need to be known and to be loved. We have a need to know that someone cares.

Some areas of life create distance between people. We see it in politics, in religion, and medicine. It’s so easy to label, to judge, or to be dispassionate. But in the end, we ourselves need to be known and need to be loved. Sometimes we want to scream: “I am a person!”

God knows that need. He sent His Son into this world to become “Everyhuman” for us. The Son of God draws us close. He knows our needs. He creates not distance between us and God, but intimacy. He forgives our selfishness by His selflessness. He says, “I am a person.”

He became a person so that the space between humans and their Creator would be bridged. God knows I love U2 concerts, riding my bike, and writing my blog. More than that, He knows that I am a sinner in need of forgiveness because “I am a person,” and people are sinners. The perfect God/Man gave up His body on the tree for me.

God has created us to be social people: to care and be cared for, to know and be known, to love and be loved. We are truly human in the most wonderful sense of the word when we have special connection with one another. That’s when we exuberantly cry out with joy in our hearts: “I am a person!”…and someone cares enough to provide affirmation of that fact.

What is it that makes you feel like a “person”?

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My Two Heroes

I met two heroes today. One is at the far side of life. The other is on the near side.

Hero #1 regaled me with stories about his selfless acts of heroism in the 4th Infantry Division in World War II. He gave nearly four years of his life to the Army. He was stationed in England during the German bombings of London. He landed at Normandy on D-Day.

Hero #1 spent thirty days living in a hole he dug himself in the middle of the German Hurtgen Forest. It was winter. For nearly all of the thirty days he was wet from his feet to his knees. At one point, his fiancè (now his wife) sent him a baked chicken in the mail (!), and he ate it with delight (It hadn’t spoiled!). He nearly lost his life at least three times. Once, a shell aimed at his jeep went right over his head and landed in a swamp, so it didn’t detonate. Another time, his assistant driver went out in his jeep on an assignment that was supposed to be his own, and was shot in the head. He saw people right next to him die in the midst of battle.

Hero #1 came home and got married. He got a 45 day leave to do so. Following his honeymoon he went back to camp and was supposed to ship out to invade Japan, but then the Japanese surrendered. He was sent home.

Hero #1 was just informed that he will be placed on an Honor Flight to Washington, D.C., in April. He, along with other heroes, will have an all expenses paid trip to Washington to see the World War II Memorial, amongst other things. He deserves it.

My hero.

Hero #2 can’t yet speak for himself so his mother spoke for him. He has been in the hospital for the majority of his not-yet-three-month life. Hero #2 has a rare disease called Hyperinsulinism. It means that in his young life his pancreas is producing too much insulin. They are finding it difficult to keep his sugars at the right level. He may need a portion of his pancreas removed and/or be on medication the rest of his life.

But that’s not all. Hero #2 has had rapid breathing since the day he was born, the source of which the doctors can’t seem to figure out.

But that’s not all. Hero #2 has a little dimple at the base of his spine that’s an indication that something might be “tethering” to his spine. It could hurt the development of his legs. If that’s the case, he will need surgery for it.

But that’s not all. Tomorrow he is having a CT-Scan and an MRI to determine whether his skull is developing correctly. If it’s not, they may have to do surgery to break the bones in his skull and set them properly.

Hero #2’s mom and dad, grandma and grandpa are getting to know far more medical terminology than they ever wanted to know. They are getting to know the hospital staff far better than they ever wanted to. They are getting tired of leaving Hero #2 at the hospital every night so that they can go home and get some sleep.

Hero #2 was just informed that he will have to be put on an Honor Flight of his own. He has to go to Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia to have a test and possible surgery for his Hyperinsulinism. It’s an Honor Flight Hero #2’s parent’s would rather he not have to take.

My hero.

Through it all, the only way you can say it is that he has been a “little trooper.” Between the tears, fears, and frustration, Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, have been trusting and faithful through it all. They are my heroes, too.

Two heroes: One on the far side of life, the other on the near side. But both heroes to me. I am thankful for them both, and praying for them both. They have both taught me that life is a precious gift of the Creator.

It’s not often you meet two heroes in one day.

Who are your heroes, and what have they taught you?

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A Story of Grace

A true story:

Once upon a time there was a faithful school principal. Like most every school principal in his day and age he faced shrinking receipts and growing bills. Mr. Faithful Principal’s school provided quality education for children who came from far and wide. Despite shrinking receipts and growing bills the school was appreciated by grateful parents. It was a godsend.

One such set of parents had sent their little first grader to Mr. Faithful Principal’s school. He hadn’t done well at his previous school, so these parents thought a change of venue might help the child. 

Lo and behold, Little First Grader made great strides.  It was not only the change of venue that brought improvement, it was the quality teachers and staff. Little First Grader’s Father called Mr. Faithful Principal to see if there was anything he could do for the school.

Mr. Faithful Principal invited Little First Grader’s Father to his office to discuss this generous offer. In the conversation Mr. Faithful Principal noted that the school was looking to upgrade its math curriculum the following school year.

Little First Grader’s Father asked what would be the price of such a proposition. Mr. Faithful Principal said that it would be in the realm of $10,000 smackeroos.

Little First Grader’s Father got out his checkbook and wrote a check. It was in the amount of $11,000 smackeroos (Note Well: ELEVEN thousand) to Mr. Faithful Principal’s school. The End.

That’s the abundant nature of God’s grace: Always more than is hoped for, expected, or deserved.

How have you seen God’s abundant grace in your life?