Self Improvement and Confession Kind of Suck...In A Good Way

One of the requirements of becoming a pastor in my denomination is completing a unit of CPE (or Clinical Pastoral Education), which is a fancy way of saying "pay to be a volunteer chaplain and have everything you do be picked apart." I did my CPE at Cooper Hospital in Camden, New Jersey, a level one trauma center in one of the poorest cities in America and had a supervisor who didn't cut his students any slack, Rev. Cholke.

It was stressful, it was exciting, and it was one of the best learning experiences of my life.

One day, I was sharing a written report about one of my visits with a patient where I had danced around his concerns about losing his legs. Rev. Cholke was having none of it. He interrupted me, pointed a finger in my face and said, "You're afraid of conflict. You avoid the tough questions and you can't really help people if you do that."

In that moment I was embarrassed, and ashamed, and angry. And I felt those things because he was right. I kind of knew that about myself, but he had stripped my personality naked and put it on display in front of the group. I hated that moment.

It was one of the best things someone has ever done for me.

Because of that moment, I started paying attention to my motivations. I learned to recognize when I was avoiding conflict out of fear. When I did that, I could push my fear back or lean into the stress to build up resilience. Over time, I became a better leader and a better pastor because Rev. Cholke named a problem that I needed to work on.

Singing and Dancing into Lent

Last week, most of the Christian world started the season of Lent. It is a time thought of by many as serious, reflective, or even somber because most churches observe Lent with quieter, more restrained worship and "disciplines" such as giving up something you love, special offerings for the poor, and additional time in prayer. It's meant to be a time for focusing closely on our mortality and our need for God. (To be fair, one of my professors once said, "Lent should be sober, not somber.")

Many people love the tone of Lent and find the reflective tone to be one of the richest experiences of the church year. (I am one of them.) But I also know people who struggle with it and have had people describe Lent as "a downer." Instead of sharpening focus, the practices of Lent seem distracting or grating to them.

Therefore, it seemed like a happy coincidence to me that Seth Godin's blog on Ash Wednesday this year was about changing how we approach unfair situations, asking if we go in "kicking and screaming" or "singing and dancing."

Over the past couple years, I've started thinking about Lent more in terms of a time to strengthen my relationship with God. As I reflected on Godin's words, it struck me that I never (okay, rarely) think about giving time and attention to people I love as a "downer." Instead, strengthening my human relationships is something that leaves me fuller and happier, both during and after. Why should strengthening my relationship to God be different?

If you are one of those who find Lent a downer (or maybe just someone looking for a new way to think about Lent), let me offer you this paraphrased food for thought:

"What if, instead, we went at it with singing and dancing? What if we walked into Lent determined to learn more, do more and contribute more than anyone had ever dreamed? What if we saw this break from the normal as an opportunity to grow or to invent or to find another path? ... It seems far better than the alternative."

Whatever path is before you, may God bless yours this Lenten season.

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari

“So tame my flesh and fix my eyes; a tethered mind freed from the lies.” -Mumford and Sons, “I Will Wait”

Meeting Jesus for the First Time Again

As a pastor, one of the things I like to point out in the Gospels is that Jesus never sets preconditions on meeting with him, yet no one who meets Jesus stays the same. Some who meet him get healed, some get confused, and some get angry, but no one shrugs him off. Everyone is welcome to meet with Jesus and whoever does is changed. 

I think we often get this backwards in the church: we set conditions for meeting Jesus and then expect that nothing will change. 

I mean that many churches often give off vibes that say "if you want to come here, you need to dress this way, believe this, and act like us"and then participate in unquestioned rituals and pick out the pieces of the message that reinforce what we already believe. I don't think any of this is done maliciously; I think we do it because it makes us comfortable and we gravitate toward communities that are comfortable with the same ideas we have.

But Jesus in the Gospels doesn't seem to be concerned with "comfort" that maintains the status quo. He talks about a comfort that comes with the reign of God -- which is currently under construction.

What would it mean for the church if we assumed that when we gathered in Jesus' name, we would be changed? That we would leave feeling uncomfortable with the status quo? That unexpected things were to happen when gathered? What if we expected to leave confused like Nicodemus (John 3), only to return later (John 19:39) to honor the one who had challenged our thinking?

“But a dream makes noise” -Josh Joplin Group, “Undone”