Thursday, March 11, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Pastors as Friends
One of the pastors at the church I attend posed the following question: "Heard in class today about the pastoral role: "People need a pastor MORE than they need a friend." Agree or disagree?"
Full disclosure: my dad was a pastor so my perspective may be skewed.
My answer is that I agree. We have an awesome group of pastors at New Community, men and women I would be proud to call friends in the truest sense of the word. I have had meetings with all the members of the pastoral staff and they know my name and I know theirs. They know a few things about me and I know a few things about them. I pray for them and they may or may not pray for me. Either way, I would not consider them friends in the way I consider others to be friends and I want it to stay that way. Why?
A pastor's role is to shepherd an entire mass of people all with their own issues, hang ups, agendas, strengths, weaknesses, and complications into a deeper relationship with a God that you can't actually see. Christians are living under what is either the craziest paradox ever or the most corporate delusion ever. I have put my hope and faith in the fact that it's a paradox.
You have this group of people who are trying to fathom something that is unfathomable and you're trying to get them pointed in the right direction. Maybe shepherd gives us too much credit; pastors are cat herders. So anyway, the pastor is running around doing all that is in his or her God given ability to accomplish the impossible.
As a member of a church, the best thing that I can do for a pastor is believe and trust them and stay in the middle of the pack. Maybe try and grab a few cats on the way so the pastor's job isn't as impossible. Those people that I'm trying to keep going in a God driven direction are also trying to keep me going the same way. The result is a tiny group (at NC3 we call them Community Groups) of Christians struggling in the trenches. Then on Sunday, we get together and our tiny groups are given direction by a pastor.
When the question comes up, do I want a pastor or a friend, the answer is obvious. To me, a pastor is someone who brings messages from God. They have a job that I do not want to do (and will not do unless God himself tells me otherwise...preferably through email) partly because of this responsibility and the difficulties of keeping congregants facing the right direction while staying semi-isolated. When I leave church on Sundays, my wife and I talk about the message, not the pastor, and I want it to stay that way.
Full disclosure: my dad was a pastor so my perspective may be skewed.
My answer is that I agree. We have an awesome group of pastors at New Community, men and women I would be proud to call friends in the truest sense of the word. I have had meetings with all the members of the pastoral staff and they know my name and I know theirs. They know a few things about me and I know a few things about them. I pray for them and they may or may not pray for me. Either way, I would not consider them friends in the way I consider others to be friends and I want it to stay that way. Why?
A pastor's role is to shepherd an entire mass of people all with their own issues, hang ups, agendas, strengths, weaknesses, and complications into a deeper relationship with a God that you can't actually see. Christians are living under what is either the craziest paradox ever or the most corporate delusion ever. I have put my hope and faith in the fact that it's a paradox.
You have this group of people who are trying to fathom something that is unfathomable and you're trying to get them pointed in the right direction. Maybe shepherd gives us too much credit; pastors are cat herders. So anyway, the pastor is running around doing all that is in his or her God given ability to accomplish the impossible.
As a member of a church, the best thing that I can do for a pastor is believe and trust them and stay in the middle of the pack. Maybe try and grab a few cats on the way so the pastor's job isn't as impossible. Those people that I'm trying to keep going in a God driven direction are also trying to keep me going the same way. The result is a tiny group (at NC3 we call them Community Groups) of Christians struggling in the trenches. Then on Sunday, we get together and our tiny groups are given direction by a pastor.
When the question comes up, do I want a pastor or a friend, the answer is obvious. To me, a pastor is someone who brings messages from God. They have a job that I do not want to do (and will not do unless God himself tells me otherwise...preferably through email) partly because of this responsibility and the difficulties of keeping congregants facing the right direction while staying semi-isolated. When I leave church on Sundays, my wife and I talk about the message, not the pastor, and I want it to stay that way.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Being White on MLK Jr Day
I'm white, if you've met me once, it's fairly easy to tell that I have a distinct lack of melanin. There are spots of melanin, but they don't connect. Anyway, today is an interesting day on which we are supposed to take time to reflect on Dr King and what he accomplished. I have read the biographies, heard the speeches, read the books, been to the museums, and have done my best to understand the issues that plagued our country from its inception.
The question is not one of knowledge or of understanding or even of commiserating. The best way to describe the issue would be to draw a parallel. I have been to Mass multiple times and I understand its beauty. I understand the concepts of Mary, the Pope, confession, transubstantiation, genuflection, and etc. However, I do not understand it in its context. I know the history of the Catholic church and I can enter into its world, but there will always be a disconnect as there are things about being Catholic that I cannot understand unless I convert to Catholicism. I will never be the part of a parish or part of the mundane things that become extraordinary or truly understand why specific things are immensely important while others fall by the wayside.
The same applies to MLK Day. I understand the concepts of slavery, apartheid, oppression, Jim Crow, nonviolent resistance, reconstruction, Bull Connor, Black Panthers, SCLC, and etc. I did not, however, live in the 1960s and I'm not black. As a result, there will always be things that I do not understand, why seemingly mundane things become extraordinary and why specific things are immensely important while others fall by the wayside.
Some day, when Jesus comes back, I will be perfectly able to commiserate, understand, love, and rejoice with all people every day. That, to me, is the true message of MLK Day. There are things about each other we cannot understand fully but we need to walk into each others lives and do the best we can to understand but to realize and admit that it will always be imperfect. The beauty of humanity says that we are different but that it is because through those differences that the love of Christ can be shown to a world that says "we need to celebrate MLK Jr and the things he stood for one day a year."
The question is not one of knowledge or of understanding or even of commiserating. The best way to describe the issue would be to draw a parallel. I have been to Mass multiple times and I understand its beauty. I understand the concepts of Mary, the Pope, confession, transubstantiation, genuflection, and etc. However, I do not understand it in its context. I know the history of the Catholic church and I can enter into its world, but there will always be a disconnect as there are things about being Catholic that I cannot understand unless I convert to Catholicism. I will never be the part of a parish or part of the mundane things that become extraordinary or truly understand why specific things are immensely important while others fall by the wayside.
The same applies to MLK Day. I understand the concepts of slavery, apartheid, oppression, Jim Crow, nonviolent resistance, reconstruction, Bull Connor, Black Panthers, SCLC, and etc. I did not, however, live in the 1960s and I'm not black. As a result, there will always be things that I do not understand, why seemingly mundane things become extraordinary and why specific things are immensely important while others fall by the wayside.
Some day, when Jesus comes back, I will be perfectly able to commiserate, understand, love, and rejoice with all people every day. That, to me, is the true message of MLK Day. There are things about each other we cannot understand fully but we need to walk into each others lives and do the best we can to understand but to realize and admit that it will always be imperfect. The beauty of humanity says that we are different but that it is because through those differences that the love of Christ can be shown to a world that says "we need to celebrate MLK Jr and the things he stood for one day a year."
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
OSU vs Michigan
This is OSU Michigan week which always brings out the best, and the worst, in college football fans. Presented here, in a semi timeline is my torrid love affair with the Big 10, college football, and the University of Michigan which ended four years ago this week.
1983 - I was born in Toledo, Ohio. I don't remember watching any games.
1986 - We moved to Kansas. I have piecemeal memories of KS, most of which involve sports, none of which involve college football. Jayhawks, Bo Jackson, and Dan Quisenberry were the people I remember.
1989-1995 - We moved to NYC. In NYC it all began. My dad taught me a love of college football, the Big 10 specifically. I had a Buckeyes sweatshirt and a Wolverines sweatshirt. I thought multiple times that Brutus (pictured on my chest) looked like he would attack me. The maize and blue wolverine, more deadly than a nut, looked like it would attack my enemies. Regardless, I cheered for OSU and Michigan throughout all 6 years in NYC never knowing there was a rivalry. I just liked Michigan better.
1991 - Desmond Howard won the Heisman Trophy. I think I struck the Heisman pose about 50 times within the next year. I also learned of the amazing broadcaster, Keith Jackson.
1993 - Charlie Ward, for a reason I cannot remember, captured my imagination. I still sometimes think fondly of the Seminoles, Bobby Bowden, and Charlie Ward.
1994 - I learned the agony of defeat as Kordell Stewart threw a hail mary to beat the Wolverines. I cried, and was sad throughout the rest of the week.
1995 - We moved to Ohio.
1995 - I cheered for Eddie George until the OSU Michigan game. I was in Cincinnati with my relatives and my cousins kept talking about how Michigan was going to lose. I didn't understand the hostility and felt that justice, in the name of Tim Biakabutuka, was served.
1995 - My grandfather, the best Ohio State fan that I have ever known, died.
1997 - I watched the OSU Michigan game in my house with my uncle and my dad. Charles Woodson returned a punt for a touchdown. I struck the Desmond Howard heisman pose and jumped around the living room. My uncle grabbed me and said "All year long we cheer for OSU together and are happy. Then, this one day, you cheer for Michigan. I'm sick of it. Pick one or the other." I picked Michigan. He left, and for the next few years, we did not watch an OSU Michigan game together.
2001 - My two uncles, my dad, and some other people gathered to watch the Buckeyes play the Hurricanes for the National Championship. There was an empty chair, with my grandpa’s OSU gear set up on it. A memento of bowl games gone by, when the Noonen men would gather to watch football, for love of the game.
2005 - I was in my room, watching Michigan lose to Notre Dame. My friend, a 6’3 230 pound ex football player, ridiculed me through the entire game. We then watched Texas beat Ohio State, with me ridiculing him. This was, and is, one of the most Godly men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. For the 30 minutes after the Texas victory, we were at war. We started by almost breaking the futon. Then we moved to the common room, moved all the furniture, and had a wrestling match. This was not uncommon, but the violence with which we threw each other on the hardwood floor, made both of us realize it was not for fun. We both ended up bruised and covered in floor burns. I don’t remember who won, the real message was we both lost.
1983 - I was born in Toledo, Ohio. I don't remember watching any games.
1986 - We moved to Kansas. I have piecemeal memories of KS, most of which involve sports, none of which involve college football. Jayhawks, Bo Jackson, and Dan Quisenberry were the people I remember.
1989-1995 - We moved to NYC. In NYC it all began. My dad taught me a love of college football, the Big 10 specifically. I had a Buckeyes sweatshirt and a Wolverines sweatshirt. I thought multiple times that Brutus (pictured on my chest) looked like he would attack me. The maize and blue wolverine, more deadly than a nut, looked like it would attack my enemies. Regardless, I cheered for OSU and Michigan throughout all 6 years in NYC never knowing there was a rivalry. I just liked Michigan better.
1991 - Desmond Howard won the Heisman Trophy. I think I struck the Heisman pose about 50 times within the next year. I also learned of the amazing broadcaster, Keith Jackson.
1993 - Charlie Ward, for a reason I cannot remember, captured my imagination. I still sometimes think fondly of the Seminoles, Bobby Bowden, and Charlie Ward.
1994 - I learned the agony of defeat as Kordell Stewart threw a hail mary to beat the Wolverines. I cried, and was sad throughout the rest of the week.
1995 - We moved to Ohio.
1995 - I cheered for Eddie George until the OSU Michigan game. I was in Cincinnati with my relatives and my cousins kept talking about how Michigan was going to lose. I didn't understand the hostility and felt that justice, in the name of Tim Biakabutuka, was served.
1995 - My grandfather, the best Ohio State fan that I have ever known, died.
1997 - I watched the OSU Michigan game in my house with my uncle and my dad. Charles Woodson returned a punt for a touchdown. I struck the Desmond Howard heisman pose and jumped around the living room. My uncle grabbed me and said "All year long we cheer for OSU together and are happy. Then, this one day, you cheer for Michigan. I'm sick of it. Pick one or the other." I picked Michigan. He left, and for the next few years, we did not watch an OSU Michigan game together.
2001 - My two uncles, my dad, and some other people gathered to watch the Buckeyes play the Hurricanes for the National Championship. There was an empty chair, with my grandpa’s OSU gear set up on it. A memento of bowl games gone by, when the Noonen men would gather to watch football, for love of the game.
2005 - I was in my room, watching Michigan lose to Notre Dame. My friend, a 6’3 230 pound ex football player, ridiculed me through the entire game. We then watched Texas beat Ohio State, with me ridiculing him. This was, and is, one of the most Godly men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. For the 30 minutes after the Texas victory, we were at war. We started by almost breaking the futon. Then we moved to the common room, moved all the furniture, and had a wrestling match. This was not uncommon, but the violence with which we threw each other on the hardwood floor, made both of us realize it was not for fun. We both ended up bruised and covered in floor burns. I don’t remember who won, the real message was we both lost.
After that, I talked to Kimmy. We had a long discussion after which I decided that I loved my brothers in Christ more than I loved the Michigan Wolverines. It still makes me happy to see them win, but it does not adversely affect my relationships or my demeanor. Kids that were in 5th grade when I graduated High School will be playing in this game. I will still cheer for the Wolverines and will most likely watch the game.
As an aside, praise God that I can once again be in a place where I'm not a pariah for liking a football team. There are way more important things to be passionate about than some kids playing a game on a Saturday.
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