As Though We Are Being Saved

A summary of last night’s presbytery meeting:

The money’s nearly gone.

Two churches are gone and three more are trying to get gone.

Two pastors are gone, one to a disciplinary action and the other to resignation forced by illness.

Gone, baby, gone.

The gathering diminished throughout the evening, an apparent microcosm of our life as a presbytery. Indeed, of Presbyterianism itself.

Sigh.

Those churches leaving for greener pastures may be kidding themselves, but it’s really easy on nights like this to understand the impulse.

Jump ship.

Quit.

Screw this.

The best thing that’s ever happened at a NEXT Church gathering was Stacy Johnson’s address in Dallas (embedded below–and made into a clever NEXT promo video here). “There are two ways of living that we know of as Christians,” Johnson said, drawing on 1 Corinthians 1:18. “We can live as those who are perishing or as those who are being saved.”

As those who are perishing . . .

Signs of our perishing are everywhere, perhaps no more evident than at a presbytery meeting like last night’s. Those signs are intrusive and disruptive. They provoke an anxious response, perhaps even a hopeless one.

Yet the message of the gospel is that what looks like perishing can be God’s salvation in disguise. The challenge we face, Johnson said in Dallas, is not first and foremost a cultural or demographic or organizational challenge. As versed as church leaders have become in the language of “adaptive challenges,” the real challenge is the gospel. The real adaptive change we face comes from the good news of life and salvation emerging from death.

So we live as though we are being saved. We invest heavily in a partnership with Presbyterians in Peru. We build networks for collaborative youth ministry. We validate a church’s work with refugees and share it’s costs. All while every outward sign condemns those efforts as futile.

And we gather. Our being saved is evident in our gathering, though these days not as evident as our perishing. Clearly not.

This is how it’s supposed to be, though. Following Jesus is not a strategy for vitality and success. Look at the cross. The hope we have is that our salvation will never be as present as when all signs are pointing to perishing.

Monday Morning Quarterback (Late Edition)

Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a weekly post reviewing Sunday, the busiest, most stressful, most gratifying day in the week of a pastor/parent/spouse/citizen.

Here’s to the youth retreat.

Here’s to waking up at 6:00 on Sunday in a sleeping bag.

Here’s to Via, sure to give me a headache but just as sure to beat camp coffee.

Here’s to the 10th grader who forgot to bring a hairbrush and to his Pastor’s retort: “God gave you two hairbrushes–one at the end of each arm.”

Here’s to the scowl.

Here’s to bacon and eggs, the food of the mountain gods.

Here’s to Reece and his ever-increasing band of singers, drummers, and guitar strummers. Here’s to “debt” and “blood” and “price” and “He” and “His” and all the other non-inclusive, substitutionary atonement-derived lyrics that populate retreat worship. Here’s to “You are the church” and Reece enlisting the prayers of 50 teenagers for a family friend.

Here’s to Jason. Here’s to the mustache. Here’s to the mustache comb. Here’s to the Kingdom of God illustrated with some clip art that Jason doesn’t notice includes “the millenium.”

Here’s to Capture The Flag.

Here’s to Millason: planner of workshops, tweeker of the schedule, quoter of Buechner, teacher of worship, coach. Here’s to getting off the escalator.

Here’s to stuffing, Thanksgiving come early.

Here’s to Paul. Here’s to Paul. Here’s to Paul. Here’s to checking the score of the Broncos’ game during my talk on The Cross. Here’s to owning it. Here’s to his prayer stations. Here’s to salt in your lemonade.

Here’s to Erin. Perennial good sport, ever proud of her students, designer of crosses, and fearless denizen of denim.

Here’s to worship led by students. Here’s to a 6th grader soldiering through a 15 verse scripture reading in just under 10 minutes. Here’s to The Lord’s Supper in Dixie cups, students praying for their peers, a student teaching The Lord’s Prayer “Like we do it in my church.” Here’s to an impromptu poetry reading from a student who never talks. Ever.

Here’s to Erik. Here’s to Gorgon. Here’s to Grog. Here’s to taking the scaring of youth to a whole new level, reducing them to cowering screams in the water heater closet. Here’s to Soccer-in-The-Dark and busted shins. Here’s to The Hunger Games and a pastor’s daughter calling out, “You hold her down and I’ll kill her!”

Here’s to dancing til midnight. Here’s to microwave popcorn.

Here’s to young people: their faith, their doubts, their lies, their unholy racket, their compassion, their yearning.

Here’s to the youth retreat.

Gospel(s)

There’s more than one gospel.

Yesterday I listened to one of my most revered professors from seminary give a talk on the mission of the church in which he implored church leaders to shape congregations who live the gospel before a watching world. It’s pure Newbigin, and the kind of thing this professor has been saying for decades. It’s really hard to disagree with.

But I’ve come up against a problem since I sat at the professor’s feet 10 years ago. “The” gospel doesn’t exist. Even in the New Testament, “the” gospel means more than one thing:

“Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the [gospel] of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.” (Matthew 4:23)

“Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God, which he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy scriptures, the gospel concerning his Son . . .” (Romans 1)

The gospel is the good news that Jesus preached: “The time is fulfilled! The Kingdom of God has come near!” (Mark 1).

The gospel is the good news proclaimed about Jesus: “the power of God for salvation to everyone who has faith, to the Jew first and also to the Greek” (Romans 1).

Many today urgently proclaim gospel to men and women with the aim of compelling faith, some variation of “Jesus died for your sins and you have reconciliation with God. Believe the good news and be saved.”

Many today urgently proclaim gospel to the church to compel a change of course. Last week a speaker at a national conference told the audience that “The gospel is at stake” in the church’s stance on marriage equality. Countless opponents have asserted the same thing while urging the opposite outcome.

It seems to me that step 1 in shaping a community to “live the gospel” is getting clear which one we’re talking about.

Monday Morning Quarterback

Pastor Ends Adequate Lord’s Day by Fouling Up Youth Group

By Rocky Supinger

November 3, 2013: 9:46 p.m.

A Southern California pastor drove home discouraged Sunday night, after students in his high school youth group stormed home angrily at the close of their gathering. The incident soured an otherwise upbeat day in which the pastor had lunch with the new President of his seminary and made significant progress toward improving the behavior of the a cadre of 6th grade boys.

“There’s a lot of work to be done,” the pastor summarized. “But running the junior high youth group like a presbytery meeting, appointing a student to act like a moderator, actually worked better than I thought it would.”

After modeling the role for half the meeting, the pastor chose an 8th grade female student to officiate the proceedings, encouraging her to rule her peers out of order when they interrupted or failed to listen to one another. For her part, the student seemed reluctant, as she giggled more than ruled.

The incident with the high school students brought an abrupt end to a gathering that had gone remarkably well up to that point. After 45 minutes of opening conversation in which students and adult advisors laughed their way through one another’s “highs and lows” for the week, the Youth Intern led a spirited discussion about movies–students’ favorite movies as well as ones from which they felt they had learned something. He ended the discussion by suggesting students look for God or “the gospel” in movies. He showed a clip from The Dark Knight and read a Bible passage to illustrate.

The problem came in the meeting’s closing game. Some students urged their peers to play the Game of Things, while others sued for a seated basketball game they played months ago. The pastor himself cast the deciding vote for the basketball game from behind the bathroom door. “I knew some kids were going to be upset either way, and I was making a careful calculus about which ones I least wanted mad,” the pastor explained.

The game was aggressive, and several students complained about the rough play of one of the adult advisors. At precisely 9:00, after less than 30 minutes of play, three students abruptly stood up and left.

“We didn’t pray or anything. I’ve got to do better than that,” said the pastor.

The day wasn’t a total loss. The adult education class led featured the engaged participation of three high school students (and one elderly man who forgot to turn back his clock for Daylight Savings time). Participants were put through an approximation of a Soul Pancake Science of Happiness experiment and then made to view the video of the experiment. One participant wiped tears from her eyes.

During worship the pastor led a Time With The Children in which he explained communion with reference to his stole, a gift from a church member that features images from the sanctuary’s stained glass windows, including a loaf and cup. The pastor’s daughter was the only child who could identify what the stole was. “I wanted to make some joke about her being a pastor’s kid when she did that,” the pastor remarked. “But I thought better of it.”

“Yeah, I’m glad he kept his mouth shut,” said the pastor’s wife. “She’s at the age (five) where she’s totally fine with being the pastor’s kid. But trust me, before long she’s going to hate it and he’ll regret drawing any attention to it at all.”

After the worship service, several worshipers groped and ogled over the stole, a gesture which the pastor repeatedly mistook for attempts to shake his hand.

This Hurts (A Reader Responds)

A good friend and colleague replied to yesterday’s post about the many churches leaving the Presbyterian Church (USA). Not wanting to focus attention on himself, he replied in a private email message, but he’s given me permission to share his response here. I’m sharing it because it brought me comfort and encouragement, and I hope it will you as well.

As a brother in Christ I feel impelled to affirm you in your call to be a minister of the Gospel. Your search for truth is a proclamation of the Good News. Hear this: Who is in a position to condemn? Nelson Bell? Highland Park? ECO? Only Christ, and Christ died for us, Christ rose for us, Christ reigns in power for us, Christ prays for us. Anyone who is in Christ is a new creation. The old life has gone; a new life has begun. Your search for truth, an earnest search, is not a capitulation to culture (whatever that means), but a testament to what the best Pastors have done for centuries: proclaim the Good News to the people God has given to you as your flock (emphasis mine).

Obviously the decisions that are going on in the PC (USA) right now are more complicated than that, and your own journey contains a lot more nuance, but I believe that people like you need to hear that others, outside your community, denomination, even country, are praying for you and view you as a witness to a God greater than schism. I have much more that I could say about the current controversy but I won’t because I want to affirm you basic insight – that the journey to life leads through death and is not just something we can blithely invoke without also recognizing that we experience the pain, despair, and hurt of death. While I feel your hurt, know that you are on the path to life.

Go in peace.

This Hurts

Another domino has fallen in the chain of churches marching out of the PC(USA) and into ECO, the new denomination formed by disaffected Presbyterians nearly two years ago. And this domino is big (actually, all of these dominoes tend big–and suburban). Highland Park Presbyterian Church in Dallas voted to leave on Sunday. On Monday I spent some time reading the church’s statements about it, reading news stories, and even watching videos on the church’s Facebook page.

The past 12-18 months have been a circus of emotions for me as the most influential evangelical churches in this denomination have pronounced its impending death and saddled their wagons to ECO. Anger. The claims they’re making are often exaggerated (this pastor tells church members that they’ll have to fire staff if they don’t leave). Other times they’re just false and devoid of context (this pastor says that his “Reformed Theology” nearly prevented a presbytery from ordaining him). I’ve spent a lot of the last year and a half angry about what’s happening.

But also hurt, and this is more to the point. I’m second guessing my own commitments, doubting what has felt like growth and discernment. And that’s painful. Necessary, perhaps, but painful. Because what felt like a growing experience of the richness of Scripture, a more adequate understanding of the complexity of human desire and affection, and a more faithful faith in the character of God–those things are now condemned by colleagues as “drift.”

If these men and women are right, then what felt to me like growth in faith and understanding is actually bankrupt accommodation to the spirit of the age. I would have done better to not seek out relationships with people I disagree with but fortified myself against them with like-minded bonds of accountability. I shouldn’t have prayed to understand the truth but for strength to persist in my present understanding. And reading Scripture as the inspired product of particular cultures with particular values was a waste of energy that would have been better spent memorizing verses to buttress theological debates.

The good news of the gospel is that God brings life out of death. That is my profound hope. But the death still hurts.

Monday Morning Quarterback

Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a weekly post reviewing Sunday, the busiest, most stressful, most gratifying day in the week of a pastor/parent/spouse/citizen.

Song of the day:

http://rd.io/x/QEq_KzMpOg/

7:00. Alarm goes off. Yes, 7:00. After daughter’s Halloween party on Saturday and staying up past midnight to finish editing the long overdue movie about our summer vacation, I slept in an hour on Sunday. So defrock me.

7:41. Dressing in black and grey today. I need my colorful socks for a conference I’m attending during the week, for which I’ve been boasting to friends that my socks will “mean business.”

7:44. Breakfast is the bottom half of a leftover Panera bagel from yesterday morning’s gathering of youth ministry volunteers. Chewy.

8:07. Stopping at the grocery store on the way to church. After nearly two months of fall Sundays, I’m finally leading the high school Sunday school class. Yesterday I solicited breakfast requests from several of them by text message, so I’m confidently picking up some muffins and orange juice, impressed with my ability to engage young people in substantive decision making.

8:30. Breakfast spread is ready: mini muffins, mini danish, bananas, and OJ. Snap a photo of it and text to students. This is what they pay me for.

8:38. Setting up the laptop in the sanctuary to show this week’s “Blessings” slide show featuring Erin Dunigan’s pictures when the first student response shakes my phone: “I’ll be there. Nom.”

8:40. Follow up response from same student. “On second thought, I have too much homework.” Another log on the homework bonfire.

8:42. Second student replies to breakfast text. “I’m getting kidnapped this morning so I can’t be there. My mom told you about it.” Rule mom out as kidnapping suspect. I’m gonna miss that kid.

9:02. Standing outside Sunday school classroom with other teachers, waiting for students to arrive. Crickets. (The step son of one of the teachers had recommended the muffins. He’s home sleeping.)

9:03. Text from wife: “we just got up, so we’re not coming to church today.” Reply 😦 I can’t even get my wife to show up.

9:05. Swapping stories with other teachers of high school pranks our “friends” pulled off in high school. The town is abuzz after students from the rival high school painted up our school’s parking lot and littered it with nails.

9:11. First high school student arrives. Cue the victory music.

9:16. Begin Bible study with three adults and one high school student. Trying not to direct every question to the student.

9:32. Bible study is joined by a fourth adult, the leader of the Family Focus Sunday school class. They got one less participant than the high school class.

9:41. Discussion of humility features anecdotes about kidnapped Mexican politicians. High school student looking bewildered.

10:06. Congratulating the congregation on it’s robust support of last week’s Walk for The Hungry. “You guys are great. Uh . . . good job?”

10:18. Children’s Time. CE Director is line-by-line teaching the children a benediction song. Halfway through the second line, with the whole congregation listening intently, CE Director’s infant son lets out an epic rasberry from the first row. It’s at least 15 seconds in length. CE Director losing it.

10:23. Reading today’s Scripture lesson, which is only two verses long. Using a Scottish accent, just to keep it interesting.

11:09. Greeting a young couple on the patio after worship, working hard on that balance between sincere interest and desperation. “Please like us!”

11:32. Congregational meeting to present a preliminary budget, share stewardship goals, and elect officers. And to eat crunchy Asian salad. Seconding the motion for more of the salad (see what I did there?).

11:37. Church member with whom I had a phone conversation earlier in the week follows up with a typed letter, handing it to me between bites of salad before leaving for another engagement. Fold the letter and put it in my pocket, wondering if it will end up in the laundry.

12:02. Talking with a church member who read my ECO blog post earlier in the week and who worshiped last weekend at one of the angry Presbyterian churches. “They say ‘savior’ a lot,” he observes. “That’s a word we hardly use here ever.” Respond by narrating a brief history of American evangelicalism, then stop, deciding once again that I care less about explaining the differences between evangelicalism and our church than I do about doing church really, really well. Then wonder if that decision is worth anything.

12:15. Return home to help put the house back together after yesterday’s party (our condo is small enough that having company requires stuffing the living room into the garage, like kids cleaning their room by hiding clothes and toys under their bed.)

12:17. Changing my clothes and remembering to take the church member’s letter out of my slacks pocket and place it in the pocket of my shorts. Again wondering if it will find the laundry.

12:18. Texting youth group students, trolling for snack volunteers for this afternoon’s youth groups. “First one to reply wins.”

12:19. We have a winner. This is what they pay me for.

12:20. Wife offers untouched pie from yesterday’s party to the youth groups. Seriously? Where were you three minutes ago?

12:52. Having regained access to the garage, cleaning cat’s litter box and assessing my experiment at using an old Diaper Champ as a dirty kitty litter bin. It works great, until you lift a week’s worth of litter out of the bin and rip the bag open, spilling Hell’s belly all over the floor.

2:30. Wife napping. Trying to convince Daughter to do a grocery store run with me. Nope.

2:36. Finalizing vacation movie instead and uploading to Vimeo.

2:41. Daughter notices bag by the door, a bag filled with items for the Goodwill, items including some of Daughter’s things she hasn’t played with in forever. Uh oh. “These are my faaaavorite!” Daughter wails. Trying to argue that if they really were her favorite she would have noticed them missing before she spied them in the bag is a loser’s errand.

2:44. Wife intercedes in GoodwillGate from upstairs, ruling that Daughter can keep the items. Daughter wins, but is playing the hurt to the hilt, burying her face in the carpet and moaning.

2:46. Turning on a movie. Not only has Daughter saved her excess toys from making other children happy, now she’s enjoying a victory lap of The Smurfs.

3:43. Getting ready to leave for youth groups, making wife some post-nap coffee. She reminds me, “Don’t forget the pie.” Don’t forget the pie? C’mon, man. I got this.

3:57. On my way out the door to youth groups, grab the bag with Daughter’s ransomed toys, looking back over my shoulder to see if she noticed. She didn’t. I’m a monster, I know.

4:01. Halfway to the church before I realize I forgot the pie.

4:42. Snap a junior high student’s three game Connect Four winning streak. Debut my victory dance to blank stares.

4:57. Leading junior high students in writing acrostic poems with the word E-V-I-L. Winner: Every Venomous Intention Loses. Student next to me can’t get over the fact that he can use both “elephant” and “virgin” in the same composition.

5:38. Playing Grog. A student has brought his costume for this: black robe and silver skeleton mask. Notice that the boys scream like frightened toddlers when chased. The girls seem bored. Constructing an anthropological theory in my head about adolescent boys’ delight in danger.

5:57. Winning snack volunteer has brought chips and a dip she claims is her grandmother’s secret recipe. Swallow the claim with gusto, along with most of the dip.

6:01. Music Director debuting a new youth program tonight, which I’ve dubbed “The Youth Music Thing.” Good initial turnout. I’ve got a pie at home, though, so . . .

6:23. Return to Youth Music Thing with pie to discover that, in my absence, students have convinced the Music Director–sound unheard,–that their first project should be a music video of The Aquabats’ “Hey Homies!” They’re over the moon when I walk in because they know I have this on my iPod.

6:25. Student demonstrates the “360 Hug” by lifting me up and spinning me around. After, he collapses on a couch in pain and yells, “Why are you so fat?!” Use the last piece of pizza to stifle my tears.

7:01. Youth Intern arrives with a Grande Coffee for me. Cry on his shoulder a little bit.

7:24. German foreign exchange student stymies the high school youth group when he shares that the thing that made him happy this week was the realization that he’s smarter than everybody else in his math class. Awkward laughter. American youth really don’t know what to do with this kind of hubris.

8:12. Youth Intern leading a very thoughtful conversation on the problem of evil in which all of the students are eagerly and respectfully contributing. I’m tracing the coffee stain on the side of my cup with a pen.

8:39. Playing Grog. Again. There should be a seminary class on the proper technique for jumping out from behind a sanctuary door to scare the bejeesus out of a student. Also, I should teach that class.

8:53. Somebody keeps crop dusting the front of the sanctuary during the game. Invent a joke: “Eww, somebody Grogged.” Nothin’.

9:02. There are two slices of pie left and they’re coming home with me. They will compliment my fat pizza nicely.

9:30. First order of business upon returning home is to grab the torrent of tonight’s episode of The Walking Dead. Second order of business is to pull up the archive of this afternoon’s Broncos’ game. Business getting done.

10:11. Daughter comes downstairs. “Daddy, Mommy said to come down and have you get me a snack.” Pick her up and hold her for a bit before getting her some chips and warm milk, which I tell her my dad used to make for me when I couldn’t sleep (at least once he did). She’s delirious to be part of a family tradition.

10:14. Daughter explaining that she watched a video with Mommy that scared her. It was a Bible video, she says, about David, who got sent to the scary forest where there was lots of lava. Probably Apocryphal.

10:17. Suggest that I take Daughter to her bed. “No Daddy, I can go by myself.” Great. Follow her to the stairs. “No, Daddy, you don’t need to come with me.” Watch her take two steps up the stairs. “Daddy, don’t follow me. Really. Don’t.” She reaches the top of the stairs and sprints to Mommy and Daddy’s bed, where she announces to her sleeping mother, “Daddy made me warm milk like Grandpa used to make for him!” So much for a sleep aid.

11:09. Broncos’ game finished. Putting off Monday Morning Quarterback til the morning. Head to bed with the church member’s letter still in my pocket.

What Counts in The ECO? In The NEXT Church?

James Miller wrote on the ECO blog today that the new denomination cares about what it measures:

You’ll hear a couple of phrases floating around ECO circles. One is that you care about what you measure. If we are paying attention to something enough to document how it’s going, we probably care pretty deeply about where it ends up.

Jim describes the faith candle and baptismal pool in his church’s worship space for illustration. Every time they hear a story in worship of someone coming to faith, coming “to follow Jesus for the first time,” they light the candle. They baptize people by immersion in the pool. The candle and the pool are “tangible representations” of what matters to Jim’s church.

Jim’s church is counting conversions and initiations. Those things matter a great deal to ECO, a denomination populated by churches who could no longer stomach life in a denomination–the PC (USA)–piling up membership losses year after year. Several people I spoke with when ECO was forming shared that church growth was the thing they cared about most. Conversion and baptism are two indicators of growth, so they’re tracking them enthusiastically.

I wonder what those of us in the NEXT Church conversation are measuring. I don’t hear a lot of talk in NEXT circles about conversion, and I think that’s because NEXT folks talk about church as a community first and as a gathering of converted individuals second. We care less about people deciding to follow Jesus for the first time than we do about people experiencing belonging in Christian community, whether or not they ever profess Christian faith. Many of us are quite comfortable including people in church who are vocally ambivalent about Christian doctrine, and moving them to convert isn’t high on our list of priorities.

Obviously, deciding to follow Jesus and experiencing belong in Christian community aren’t opposing alternatives. We want one to lead to the other (who cares which comes first?) But if we’re not inclined to count conversions, and if we’re passionate about welcoming people into an inclusive community where they experience God, what are the things we need to be measuring?

Monday Morning Quarterback

Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a weekly post reviewing Sunday, the busiest, most stressful, most gratifying day in the week of a pastor/parent/spouse/citizen.

Song of the day:

http://rd.io/x/QEq_K0LCS3A/

6:00. Up. What? Is that surprising?

6:08. It’s red socks today. Match the tie with them, match the tie with them.

7:09. Assembling papers that have nothing to do with Sunday school, worship, committee meeting, or either of the youth groups.

7:57. Leaving with breakfast. Cereal poured into a child’s drinking cup. This is not good.

8:28. Setting up the slide presentation that will run while people come into worship. It’s the text of “blessings” people submitted in worship last week atop Erin Dunigan’s photos as backgrounds. Excited for people to see this.

9:46. Considering this question with the adult education forum: “What is the effect of denying marriage to a couple who wishes to live out the claims of baptism in their relationship?” Fruitful conversation.

9:56. Start the slide presentation I made with just enough time for people to see four minutes of it before the service starts. Fail.

10:17. During Children’s Time, Christian Ed. Director praises daughter for bringing back her “blessing book” from last week. Elbow the guest speaker. “That’s my daughter.”

10:19. Daughter stands during Children’s Time to retrieve a wedgie. Look away from guest speaker.

10:21. Kids learning “This Little Light of Mine.” As we turn the corner from the second to the third verse, praying it’s not the “Won’t let Satan blow it out” verse. It’s not. Whew. Who teaches that to children? Seriously?

10:54. Goading the acolyte into performing a leaping karate move when he stands to collect the offering during the Doxology.

11:03. As the service is ending, notice for the first time that a former student is in the choir. Robe and everything. Elated.

11:43. Persuade the adult ed committee to let me use Soul Pancake for our unit on gratitude in November.

11:56. Changing clothes in the youth room bathroom to go to the hunger walk. Church ladies meeting in the youth room. Is this weird?

12:30. Arrive for the hunger walk with Daughter. Find our one other walker from the church. We are a team of 3. Other churches have double digits and matching T-shirts. I’m not doing this right.

12:43. Daughter making the church’s sign for the walk. Actually impressed at the drawing she’s done of our sanctuary. Stained glass included.

12:50. Daughter getting a balloon. A purple one.

12:52. Daughter getting her face painted. Rainbow with a jewell, fool.

1:00. The walk begins. Daughter sets off with gusto. And her balloon.

1:07. First walk find: an LED flashlight. Keeper.

1:11. Second walk find: a feather. Keeper.

1:15. With her balloon and two finds distracting her, daughter’s pace has slowed to a mindless mosey.

1:17. We’ve only made the first turn of the walk route, and already the ladies with canes are passing us.

1:19. Near miss with the balloon and a tree. Warn daughter to be careful the balloon doesn’t pop. She hugs it tight to her chest.

1:24. We have our first, “Are we done yet?”

1:37. Daughter taking another water break. Sitting down on the sidewalk for this one.

1:43. Daughter declares she wants to go home.

1:57. The balloon finally flies too close to a tree branch and meets its end. Hysteria. Antigone-style wailing all over the sidewalk.

2:01. Still crying. Little girl in a stroller offers her another balloon, and daughter refuses it with folded arms and a tucked chin. Shrivel. Little girl tells her mother, “Mommy, I think her wanted a purple balloon.”

2:03. Still crying.

2:06. Still crying.

2:11. Daughter stops crying to ask, “Daddy, when will we be finished?” Me: “Just at the bottom of this hill.” It’s not true and I know it.

2:15. The route turns off the hill to the left, then back up the hill for a block. This is trouble. They’ve made a liar of me. Commence crying . . . now.

2:24. Tell Daughter how impressed I am with her for walking the whole distance, and she covers her ears and screams, “I don’t want to hear anything from you!”

2:30. Complete the 2.5 mile walk and secure daughter a new balloon. And some popcorn.

2:39. Daughter’s eyes rolling back in her head as she stuffs popcorn in her mouth on the drive home.

3:25. Daughter asks me to tear her five lengths of tape and stick them to her arms so she can take them upstairs. “What for?” I ask. “I’m making something.” Ascends the stairs.

3:28. “Daddy, I need one more piece of tape.” Ascends the stairs.

3:32. Daughter asking for more tape. Four pieces this time. Ascends the stairs.

3:35. Daughter asks for one more piece of tape. No, two more. Ascends the stairs.

3:38. Daughter descends the stairs with the thing she’s been building upstairs. It’s a “laboratory light” that utilizes the LED flashlight she found during the walk.

3:46. Wife has arranged the produce she got at the farmer’s market on the counter, and it’s lovely. Fight the urge to cancel youth groups.

4:47. Junior high students arguing Dr. Who. How is it that the PBS show I instinctively skipped as a seven year-old is now the hot teen media property?

5:12. Intern prepares a game that involves navigating an obstacle course of water balloons blindfolded. He thinks the water balloons are going back in the bucket at the end of the game. Silly, silly, intern.

5:28. Throw the first water balloon.

5:32. Intern has junior high students playing “steal the bacon” with a greased watermelon. How great is my intern?

5:51. Experimenting with Lectio Divina Bible reading for the junior high students. One starts to giggle and has to leave the room cackling.

6:27. Driving to the trampoline gym with high schoolers, the German exchange student in the back is re-telling his homecoming experience from the night before. “We don’t have dances like that at my school in Germany, and even if we did I don’t think the girls would dance like that!” He’s grinning like a lunatic.

6:56. This place is all trampoliiiiiiiiiiiiiiines!

7:33. Crushing these kids in trampoline dodgeball. By crushing I mean showing them how to get out within the first five seconds every single game.

7:56. Intern delaying our exit from the trampoline place in order to play this stupid song on the jukebox. Students going nuts though, so it’s totally worth it.

8:23. Ordering a bacon cheesburger and fries on the rationale that I walked 2.5 miles and jumped on a trampoline for an hour today. Weak.

8:36. Intern puts a tray of peanuts in front of peanut allergy kid, who looks up from his phone and says, “Yeah, I could die from that.”

8:45. Leaving the burger joint, student looks quesy, so I ask: “Man, are you okay?” His answer? “Sort of.” Not encouraging.

9:02. Sick of sitting behind a lumbering semi in the exit lane, I move to pass him on the left, then realize I’ve only got about a hundred yards before the exit. Gun it to make the exit. Simultaneous shame and pride.

9: 14. Taking a student home. Along the way he’s narrating the drama surrounding crushes in choir. Why was I never in choir?

9:47. Settle in to watch the replay of the Broncos/Colts game. “Game not unavailable during Sunday Night Football.” Blurg! Starting Monday Morning Quarterback. Writing this one in reverse.

10:17. After completing 2:06 of Monday Morning Quarterback, receive a text from college student from our church. It’s a picture of him and another college student from our church, only who goes to school on the opposite end of the country. They ran into each other in a New England Starbucks. I love my job.

10:47. Done with Monday Morning Quarterback. Broncos game still not on.

11:20. Still no Broncos. Going to bed.

Monday Morning Quarterback

Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a weekly post reviewing Sunday, the busiest, most stressful, most gratifying day in the week of a pastor/parent/spouse/citizen.

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5:42. Wake up. Check the time. Consider for three seconds getting up 18 minutes ear—back to sleep

5:59. Having a dream in which I’m the guest preacher at my old church where, in the middle of the sermon, a group of college students spontaneously gets up and starts doing an Irish dance. “Weird,” I think. “I don’t remember there being any college students here before.”

6:00. The merciless march of time snares me by the ankle and shakes me awake.

6:17. Grab a pair of socks in the dark and decide, sight unseen, that these will be the centerpiece of my outfit today. They turn out to be bright blue. Sadly, I have clothes to match that.

6:58. Revisiting the sermon I tried to complete last night. Wishing I’d finished it, but not regretting for a second the Top Gun quote-athon I engaged on Facebook. “Because I was inverted.”

7:34. Making Wife some coffee, at least 80 % certain it’ll go to waste.

8:03. Picking up donuts for the Sunday school class. Two years ago I was given a specific list of what kinds to get. Today I’m experimenting with a random assortment and retiring the list. They may kill me.

8:08. Stopping at the crunchy grocery store to pick up gluten free donuts and hormone free chocolate milk, wondering if they’re for a student free Sunday school.

8:15. Arrive to an eerily quiet church campus. Nothing is set up and the office is still locked. Did the rapture happen?

8:22. Trying to print sermon, but computer is super sluggish. Massaging my temples to avoid screaming.

8:25. Taking a walk to hang Sunday School signs while computer churns. Can’t find my stapler. Fuming.

8:54. Head to youth room to greet junior high and high school students. Get there and realize my watch is 20 minutes fast. It’s actually 8:34. Return to the office and take some deep breaths.

8:47. Learn from Godly Play teacher that last week Daughter told him, “My daddy does whatever my mommy says.” Begin to protest, but catch Wife’s glare out of the corner of my eye and do as I’m told.

8:54. Student arrives for Sunday school and greets the news that the regular teachers are gone and that, therefore, there’s no Veggie Tales, by slinking to the ground and sobbing. I hate Veggie Tales.

9:23. After several attempts to engage students in a conversation about our worship service, realize I’m that moron who can’t get teenagers to give him a straight answer about anything. My questions are more easily answered with snark. I am good for snark.

10:11. Daughter and her playmate have a falling out during the opening hymn. Wife comforting daughter on the front pew.

10:27. Twitchin’ to get in the pulpit.

10: 40. Dropping names.

11:12. Join my colleague in being interviewed by a local college student for a religious studies class. Joke that he missed the animal sacrifice ritual last week.

12:00. Daughter and Friend are with us for a playdate. Cat attacking Daughter’s friend.

12:53. Girls agree that this is a “naked playdate,” and the clothes come off.

1:02. Facebook post from church member says worship makes him feel “Close to God.” My work here is done.

1:46. Big Trouble in Little Playdate. “She said she doesn’t like me anymore!”

1:48. Wife serves girls pretzels and peanut butter, turns on My Little Pony. Now it’s, “I love you.” Friendship really is magic!

3:12. Wife enlisting girls to unwrap Hershey’s Kisses for Pinterest-inspired witch hat cookies. They’re lagging behind, and the only way she can interest them in the task is to chastise them like orphans out of Annie.

4:49. Schooling junior high kids at Laser Tag. The one who catches the most lasers wins, right?

6:34. Shoveling Burger King between youth groups. Not my proudest moment.

7:23. High school student has brought his X-box to youth group. Ask him where the joystick is.

7:45. Playing a racing game against another adult volunteer. YOU CAN’T TOUCH THIS!

7:47. Member of Indonesian church that shares our campus invites students to come to the Fellowship Hall and enjoy some of their food. From a funeral reception.

8:01. Indonesian church member returns, irritated that we haven’t come yet. Walk to the hall with him, shake his hands, and explain that the students aren’t dressed for a funeral. Instantly sure I’m causing great offense.

8:34. Discussing “sainthood” with students. The senior next to me gushes about Mother Theresa, and I’m pretty sure he’s about to cry.

8:42. Students sharing their favorite anecdotes about Pope Francis. Presbyterian high school students gushing over the Pope. Didn’t see that coming. Like it, but didn’t see it coming.

8:43. Decide to dedicate an upcoming youth group week entirely to Pope Francis.

8:52. Prayer-At-The-Close-Of-Day. Amen.

9:17. Home. Watching the replay of the Broncos game. I should go to bed. I have an early flight tomorrow. But it’s the Broncos.

11:15. Beginning Monday Morning Quarterback. I’m doomed.

11:50. Going to bed.