Balance world and ministry

I am a deacon in the United Methodist church (UMC).  While I am fully committed to this call, I often have to admit that it when I first heard the call, I misunderstood.  Maybe you can remember years and years ago, when everyone was doing the Seven Habits of Highly Effective people and we were all writing our purpose statements.  My closing sentence was “I will be a beacon.”  Not sure whether it was a moment of dyslexia or clogged ears, but I often laugh about that.  So, I will be a deacon. 

In the UMC, deacons are an order ordained to Word and Service.  We typically serve in the church and the world, serving as a bridge between the two.  Most of my colleagues are dual career people with day jobs (in the world) and other jobs (in the church).  A few serve only in the local church.  I teach at a state run Community College, a psychology course that is required in most of the Allied Health degree programs.  Doesn’t sound like a ministry?  My students are predominantly women, predominantly seeking a career to support their families, predominantly without educational skills or with too many life demands to be successful in a university setting.  Getting them through their educational process and into a life sustaining career – that’s a ministry.  And because I teach at a state school, I am careful not to overtly cross the church/state line, but I constantly have students coming to me and asking me to pray for them or with them.  And when I ask “why did you come to me?”, they respond that they just got that churchy vibe from me. 

In the local church that I serve, I teach the confirmation class.  I spend a good deal of time hanging out with sixth graders, young people aged 11 – 13.  We go on a journey of developing Christian discipleship.  Most have been raised in the church, and are now entering that time of personal growth and discovery, and I get to walk with them as they decide how God and Jesus Christ will have a role in how that life unfolds.  I find in September and October that I am dragging them forward, and by March and April I am screaming “wait for me.” 

And even though I am walking on a bridge between two stations in the world, it is a very thin place indeed. 

People we remember, not easily forgotten

Our annual conference gathering opens with the Memorial Service to those clergy members and their spouses that have passed away since our last gathering.  Unless you are the member of a clergy family you probably don’t realize it, but clergy typically can’t get away to attend the funeral of one of their colleagues when they pass away.  Clergy work, the work of ordering and guiding a congregation, is demanding and time consuming, and you often can’t break away to attend the funeral of a beloved friend, mentor or co-worker.  So we begin by remembering.   And because of the age of our clergy (average age somewhere in the late 40’s), we sometimes have a lot of remembering to do. 

And because of our exaggerated interrelationship with one another, because we depend on one another, it is rare that there is no one being memorialized that you don’t have some connection to.  And I feel that is a good thing.  One of my favorite movie quotes is “it’s good having someone that saying goodbye to is so damn hard.”  As a United Methodist we have lots of people that it is hard to say goodbye to.

It is a thin place. 

Annual Conference

I am a United Methodist clergy person.  Methodism was a movement established by John Wesley, his brother Charles and a few of their buddies while at university.  Wesley didn’t call it Methodism, actually that name was meant to be an insult.  Because Wesley had a “method” or system for everything, those that didn’t participate in his group called them Methodist.  They were also called enthusiasts, so I guess there is luck in not being a United Enthusiast.  One of Wesley’s methods, was that the leadership should gather and “conference.”  Not sure how that played out 100 years ago, but today it means Methodists in each area or conference gather and worship, eat, vote, worship, eat and vote.  And because we are Methodists, there are methods and guidelines and rules that must be followed.  Sometimes the consequences for not following the methods are harsh, sometimes they are simply distressing.  Traditions go along way with Methodists.  

United Methodist clergy, for the most part, are appointed by their bishop to serve in a certain place for a year.  Now a church elder may be appointed to the same place for a number of years, but it is only for a year at a time.  Prior to days of technology and advanced communication, church leadership had to pack up all their belongings in their buggy and wagon and come to annual conference.  Then and only then, would a clergy(man) learn if they were going someplace new or returning to the same old place.  Today, things are slightly less barbaric.  Clergy know weeks in advance that they will be moving, certainly with enough time to look for a place to live (if need be), and probably for a spouse to find a new job.

It is a grand time.  It is about the only time we all get to see on another.  We celebrate the lives of those that have died since we were last together.  We celebrate those that are retiring from service, who for the most part, continue to serve in a different relationship.  We celebrate those that are entering ordained service.  There can’t be anything much more grand than the voices of an Annual Conference raised in song. 

And we vote.  Sometimes on things are that are banal, mundane and ridiculous.  Sometimes we vote repetitively on the same thing or similar thing year after year after year.  And while I admire the tenacity of the person bringing the petition, let’s move on, it ain’t gonna pass.  Sometimes we vote on painful hard things that sting our hearts and souls and we must wonder what God imagines about us. 

But ultimately, I hope, I pray, that we recall that we are the people of God.  And that what we are gathering about is how we will live out our roles as the people of God. 

Trimming your sails

Since the principle means of locomotion on a sailboat is the sails, it is important that you take full advantage of the “trim” of the sail.  A poorly trimmed sail or sails, means that you are not moving as well through the water and wind as you might, and  it also means that you are probably not having a peaceful sail.  A sail out of trim is noisy, almost as if it were screaming, “Please use me to your full advantage.”   

luffing noisy sails

Sailors have a number of tools at their advantage to assist with trimming sails, electronics, mechanical and probably the most advantageous – yarn.  Yes, a piece of well placed yarn becomes a “tell-tail.”  These placed on the rigging or a sail help the person at the helm check their sail trim.  Tell tails should stream directly back.  

The captain of the boat that I sail on is the master of sail trim.  He isn’t happy until every sail that’s up is trimmed as perfectly as it can be.  He will squeeze every ounce of speed out of the sails, by making certain that they are perfectly trimmed.   At first he tries to engage us in his flurry of activities, but eventually he simply amuses himself because we have grown bored.  Once he has achieved perfection, a shift in the wind will require an adjustment in the sails, and I refer to this as “crank it in and let it out.”  You have to crank in the sail with a winch, and if you crank it in too much, you have to let it out.  Letting out is difficult.  So you crank in delicately, attempting to stop at just the right point. 

beautiful sailing

Sail trim is similar to how we navigate through life.  When we are out of whack with our guidance system, we tend to be noisy, whiny creatures.  We may seek the comfort of others who are equally out of trim, because all those requiring attention can feed off one another.  We really don’t go anywhere, sort of just drift about.  When we are trimmed out, our bows cut through the water, silent and speedy, following the course that has been laid out for us.  Here’s the catch, you don’t stay in trim.  What was a perfect sail configuration yesterday won’t be the same for today.  We have to constantly adjust our sails, paying attention to both the wind and the water. 

 

Katie boat at the dock at sunset

Marks along the way

Like driving on a highway, sailing on the ocean has signs or marks to guide your way.  And, just like being on the roadway, you can choose to follow them or not.  And, as you might expect, things go better when you follow the planned direction. 

Marks come in assortments.  Some are on fixed posts sticking out of the water with dayboards on them.  The dayboards are typically green and red, but also can have other configurations.  

The boards mark channels, and in most cases it is always better to stay in the channel.  For example, the Houston Ship Channel passes through Galveston Bay for ships heading into Houston from the Gulf of Mexico.  The Houston Ship Channel is about 40 feet deep, just outside the channel is about 9 feet deep. Big ship, 9 feet of water – in seaman’s terms that is called “Being on the hard.”  Channels can also be marked with metal buoys, which may be called cans or nuns.  The greens are often shaped by a cylinder or can, and the reds have little pointy tops, looking a bit like a Catholic Nun in her habit. 

Marks are also numbered.  So that a sailor following their marks should be able to determine their location based on the numbers on the marks.  Often when you are traveling to a particular marina the directions may include “turn at the red 59.”  The sailor would know precisely where they were to turn.  Confusion comes when many channels intersect.  For example, turning into Offutt’s Bayou, just outside of the Intercoastal Waterway near Galveston is at the junction of two channels, so the mark is actually a red/green dayboard.  So for some it is a return to the marina and for some it is the exit from another. 

One thing you have to watch for is marks that are out of place.  It is a pretty serious offense to move or tamper with a mark.  But often marks can “escape” or become so damaged as to be useless.  Kind of like us.  When we become unattached, drift or become so altered that others don’t see the light of Christ in us, then we are marks that are no longer effective.  And sometimes that just happens.  Maybe it’s neglect.  Maybe it’s lack of attention.  Maybe it’s because we put ourselves in places where we don’t serve our designed purpose. 

Let’s make a conscious choice.  To be the Marks we are meant to be, where we are meant to be.