The joy of the gospel

"I prefer a Church which is bruised, hurting and dirty because it has been out on the streets, rather than a Church which is unhealthy from being confined and from clinging to its own security."
--Pope Francis


Me too.


Thank you, God, for a Pope who speaks in the way of the prophets.


For the full article, click here.

Vigilance against the vagaries

In a 2007 interview, Garrison Keillor said that “gloom and self-absorption are for teenagers.  Once you pass a certain point—and I passed it a long time ago—you’re supposed to be cheerful.”  Asked if he was a cheerful person, he replied, “Yes, I am, but I have to work at it.  I come from dark people, people who were always expecting disaster.” 

If you had asked me 6 months ago, if I was a person subject to vagaries, which I define also as being at the mercy of the whims of my emotions and thoughts, as well as life circumstances, I would've replied, "Sometimes".

Watch over me, God, for it is in you I have taken refuge.

In the past I said:  "You are my Creator,

but you do not look out for my good."

I realize now that my answer would have been "All the time" if I had been aware of it.

Their sadness multiplies, all who rush after futility,

those who chase after empty gods...

When things are good, even mostly good, or even so-so, it can be oh so easy to allow our circumstances to define us and not be aware that we're doing it, because our lives are relatively stable.  Even when I was in the dumps after each "no-thank-you" from an interview, I figured it was within reason that I hit the skids.  After all, who wouldn't?  It's normal, right?

Of course.  Normal is a wide, broad spectrum.  Lots of room for all of us there.  To me, normal can be  hard to nail down.  Like jello.  To me, normal is just another word for human.  And there are as many ways to be human as there are, well, human beings.  We're all just trying to figure it out: being alive on this planet tumbling through the universe with no apparent purpose or meaning.  So what do we do?  We make meaning, we make purpose.

And so we  have a choice.  Now I've known this for a long time.  But there times when you know something and others when you KNOW it, down to your bones, smack upside your forehead.  I am now in a totally new place: new people, new work, new digs.  I guess I shouldn't be surprised--I moved to NEWARK, after all.  (Hey, it was there and one of you was thinking it—don't tell me otherwise.)

God is the measure of my portion and my cup.

You uphold my destiny.

In this very new situation I realized that I have to remain vigilant about my attitude and emotions, that I cannot allow my circumstances to define my reality for me.  It would be very easy to slip into sadness and despair:  my husband and daughters are still in Connecticut, everything is unfamiliar, sometimes I get lost, and I am too much alone at times.  This is why we pray "Lead us not into temptation".  It doesn't have to be big--it's really rather sneaky.  But then I remind myself (okay, it was really God) that I asked for this, exactly this, and now I am living it.  I knew the costs going in.  I told myself I could handle it, that I would enjoy this little 'mommy sabbatical':  cooking for one, hell, not even cooking most days, taking care of only me, remembering what it was like when I was single.

Blessings have fallen upon me in pleasant meadows,

wonders and beauty have been my inheritance.

 

I will praise God, who has given me good counsel.

And then I remembered:  though I didn't mind being alone at times, I really didn't like being single.  I wanted to be married and have children; it was a calling I wanted to fulfill.  So now I'm seeing the flipside of the last 16 years, when I couldn't fully participate in my calling to ministry; now I'm missing my call to be a life partner and mother in the flesh. 

Even when my fears torment me at night,

I will keep the Eternal always before my eyes.

 

For when you are at my right arm,

I do not stumble.

I miss hugging and kissing my daughters, and that other holy touch shared between two people who love each other.  And so I'm learning to feel those feelings, allow them to fill me like the vessel I am but then to let them pass and feel something else.  Like hope and joy and peace and contentment and wonder.  Now I'm making room for curiosity,  possibilities, and the wonderful hospitality of the folks of Delaware.

My heart leaps up,

the place of my innermost glory rejoices.

Even my flesh rests secure.

 

For you won't abandon my life to the underworld;

the Holy One will not relinquish the kindhearted

to witness destruction.

Other people wiser than me have said that we spend the first half of our lives figuring out how we want to live; we spend the second half actually living.  And though it may seem like we're spinning our wheels, that we could've started sooner like that person over there, it really is important to think it through, to feel all the feelings, make mistakes, forgive ourselves (and a few other people), and move on.  Because it's OUR one precious life and no one else's.  And so far, I don't regret a thing.  Not even spinning my wheels.  They got me here, right here.

Make known to me the pathway of life

until I overflow with joy at your presence,

 

the lasting contentment that comes from your right hand.**

**Verses from Psalm 16, The Complete Psalms: The Book of Prayer Songs in a New Translation, by Pamela Greenberg, New York: Bloomsbury, 2010.

God mend thine every flaw

This video has been posted on Facebook with the tag line: "The most bad ass version of the National Anthem I have ever heard."  Give it a go:




The only thing missing from this video is a muscle-bound Jesus in camo pants and a slashed t-shirt, waving the flag or cocking an AK-47.  This is an anthem based on military victory, not on the beauty of our nation or the compassion of its citizens and our willingness to sacrifice not only on the battlefield but for the poor, the homeless, the undereducated and underpaid, the incarcerated, those without health care, the hungry, the outcast, the unloved.

Not since WWII have we had to defend our nation from an enemy attack, and since then we know better about the cost of a war and that, recently, to respond with force is a choice that has more to do with national interests, politics, and fear that it does with restoring justice and balance.  I know some will disagree vehemently:  "What about 9/11?!  Was not that an enemy attack?"  Yes, but it was also a reaction against an empire, striking not at military targets but at targets that represent the real force of American power in this world.

We have not been able to change our anthem from "The Star Spangled Banner" to "America (O Beautiful, For Spacious Skies)" as some would like because, as a nation, we still rush to war more than we make efforts toward peace.  We have great pride for those who serve in the military but do not do nearly enough when our daughters and sons come home broken in spirit and in body.  And the question "Is this too high a price to pay for freedom?" goes unasked. 

I don't know about you, but my freedom has never been interrupted by Afghanistan or Iraq.  I was not asked to sacrifice a thing while we waged war for TEN, expensive years.  But there are others in this country who cannot marry if they wish.  Many cannot earn a living wage or afford college.  Some folks have to choose between rent, heat, and food.  That's not what I call the home of the free.  If we're going to go to battle, the true equality of every citizen would be something worth fighting for.

"America, America!  God mend thine every flaw.
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law."

Change within

Before I begin the true center of this rant, you, dear reader, and I need to come to a rapprochement, an accord of common ground.  And that is this:  what we call 'God' or 'Higher Power' is a working theory, a hypothesis in progress, an unfinished thought.  A blogger posting on Facebook last week posed the question:  Did you know there are approximately 7.1 billion religions in the world?  We all have our own idea about a supreme being, a Force, an intelligence, or scientific rationale behind this mysterious world we live in.  None of us has THE answer; no one has a monopoly on truth. 

That being said, can we please do away with all the quarreling, bickering, and pointing of the finger at God and religions for what is wrong with politics, laws regarding privacy and civil rights, and the human race in general?  God and religions are not responsible; people are.  People, with our fears, our need for answers and certainty, our big questions and small use of infinite imagination, in our ignorance, we are accomplishing nothing by striking out at one another and assigning blame.  If we leave one community, because of its narrow views and hurtful ways, for another, more promising community, it really is just geography.  There will always be people with whom we will not connect, who will be difficult to get along with, who will do stupid, painful stuff for who knows what reason.

Sometimes it seems it's just easier to identify one group by one label so they can be summed up by one opinion and then avoided.  Take these for example:  Christian.  Muslim.  Feminist.  Liberal.  Conservative.  Terrorist.  Democrat.  Republican.  Within each of these groups and others there are layers of interpretation and perspective.  And yet we have formed knee-jerk reactions to each of these, depending on our own viewpoint and experience, shutting down our curiosity, inate intelligence, and ability to understand.  Our world moves so fast now we don't take the time to stop, stand back, and really look at the bigger picture.



We all like to think that we're like the older brother in the story of the prodigal son, that we've been slaving away while that younger brat got to live like a rock star, while 'those people' got to call the shots, get the goodies, live on the taxpayer's teat, get off scott-free.  We forget that that sinful, starving brother was willing to come home to be a servant, and it was the father who was truly 'prodigal' (yes, I actually want you to click on the link and look it up, because you may only think you know what it means).

All of us are that younger brother, the problem child, the one who just can't get their act together. Because whatever we think is wrong with the world begins in the mirror.  Michael Jackson got it right, straight from Gandhi: Become the change you wish to see in the world.  Jesus: The kingdom of God is within you.  There has always been hate and evil in the world but it has never been able to bury love and fearlessness.  Throughout human history we have been given a choice: by which authority will we live?  The choice is being given again.  It's time to remember who we are.  One people.  One planet.  One future.

Whose rules?

You may have seen this on Facebook, especially if you get news feed from Miss Representation.  A blogger by the great moniker of Militant Baker wrote a letter to Mike Jeffries, the CEO of Abercrombie and Fitch, about her own campaign, "Attractive and Fat".  Accompanying the letter were photos of the militant baker herself and a gorgeous, Fitch-type model.

She writes that she had these pictures taken, not to prove that she has sex appeal worthy of attracting male models or to prove that she is photogenic (which she is) but for the express purpose to "challenge the separation of attractive and fat, and I assert that they are compatible regardless of what you believe."  MB is challenging Mr. Jeffries' attempt to make his own rules concerning the governing of his own company, because these rules of what is beautiful and what is not can be hurtful and damaging, especially to the self-image of the young.

However, in one of the fetching photos of MB, we can see the tattoos she has on her thighs, just above the knees: on her right leg, "My life"; on her left leg, "My rules".




Photography: Liora K Photography

I think it begs the question, which happens to plague the rest of society, whose rules win?  Militant Baker wants to live her life by her rules.  Ironically, this is how Mike Jeffries wants to run his company.  This how many folks wish they could live their lives but do not have the resources, thus, others are calling the shots, as in, the poor vs. the U.S. Congress, for example.

Our lives and the rules by which we live them affect countless other people, which seems to be the point MB is making to Mr. Jeffries.  My life is joined to your life and all lives by the actions and decisions I make, the attitudes and beliefs I hold.  This is why we make covenants, not only with God but also with each other--to hold the most important actions, decisions, attitudes and beliefs in common, because they affect the community as a whole.  For example, Abrahamic religions hold the ten commandments and the golden rule in common, the latter universal to most of the world's religions.

As a species, we have never really been able to afford the attitude of "My life, my rules".  There are times we've been able to inaugurate justice because of this battle cry:  Roe v. Wade, women's rights, privacy rights, etc.  But as it applies to individuals in general, we've had to mitigate its effects on society:  amendments to the Constitution, the Bill of Rights.   Part of what makes this nation great is that we hold individual freedom and communal responsibility in tension.  Even though we seek 'to establish a more perfect union', we continue to suffer great losses of animal habitats, clean water and air, disease, extinction, violent weather patterns, the senseless deaths of women, men and children, culture, economic recession, bi-partisan entrenchment, and the greatest loss of all: compassion.

I applaud Militant Baker.  I am thankful that her rules include compassion for those who do not fit Mr. Jeffries' idea of attractive and that she is a highly vocal, visible rebel!  But isn't it time for a covenant that sounds something like "Our lives, our rules" and that we work on them both together?

By what authority do you live?

This is water

This is what I was trying to say so ineptly in my post about brands of crazy, that David Foster Wallace puts so eloquently:

The best brand of crazy

Everyone has their own brand of crazy.  You know, those unique idiosyncrasies, quirks, and foibles that make us who we are.  It's the aperture through which we see and experience the world.  Our brand of crazy colors how we view reality, influences our judgment, informs our opinions, and fuels our emotions.

But we don't call it 'crazy'.  Other people's stuff might be crazy but ours is not.  Ours makes sense.  To us.  Therefore, it makes sense to everyone, right?  I know, you live with this person.  Or you used to.

What I call 'brand of crazy' is humanity's way of dealing with and controlling the insanity we live with every day.  And by insanity, I don't mean what we've created combining our brands of crazy.  I mean the insanity of the unknown and uncontrollable:  where did we come from, what will happen to us when we die, what is our purpose in the mean time, we could stroke out or get hit by a truck (or an asteroid) tomorrow.  And the biggest one of all:  Are we alone?

If we thought about this stuff all the time, we'd be raving lunatics.  And by no means am I talking about folks with mental illness.  That's some serious shit I have no real experience to draw on.  I'm talking about we who've developed our own brand of crazy to deal with the insanity of this existence, so that it appears we've got some sense of control, that we have some knowledge of some kind rather than groping in the dark all the time.

We also engage in collective brands of crazy.  Examples of brands of crazy that we share in common with others:  religion, atheism, science, politics, philosophy, economics.  Yes, even that beautiful human being the Dalai Lama engages in some brand of crazy.  Gandhi.  Jesus.  Martin Luther King.  And all those desert mothers and fathers and that great cloud of witnesses we call the saints.  No one is immune because we all have our own point of view, our own judgment of what is crazy and what is not.  What one persons thinks is nuts another might think is the way of salvation.  Let your nut turn on that one for a minute.

Of course we will disagree.  And so we have schisms, conflicts, wars, and violence on all scales, from domestic abuse to world war.  As you well know, some of our brands of crazy are hurtful and destructive--we see no other way out of insanity than to annihilate others and ourselves.

But we don't just leave it at disagreeing; it's believing that my brand of crazy isn't crazy, that it's other people's brand of crazy that is at fault, that I could never be the way they are, they are evil incarnate, they are not human.  And this is the worst brand of crazy of all:  they are not human.  From thence comes genocide, the Holocaust, terrorism, torture, unsafe working conditions, bullying, exclusion.

Which all stems from one of the craziest things of all time:  fear.  Everyone has this in their own brand of crazy.  We're afraid of the unknown and the uncontrollable, deathly afraid.  Really, how do you come to some sense of peace about that?  How do you let go?  Ergo, the Dalai Lama's brand of crazy.

Here are my top 10 of brands of crazy, in no particular order, subject to change on any given day:

1. Papal infallibility.
2. The United States Congress.
3. Poverty.
4. Extreme wealth.
5. Addiction.
6. Pornography and sex trafficking.
7. Guns and other weapons of mass destruction.
8. Racism, sexism, and any other kind of -ism (Ferris Buehler was right).
9. Reality TV.
10. Grass lawns (think about it...you have to mow it six months out of the year, all that pollution, gasoline, noise...what a waste).

And we self-medicate our crazy.  Some of us have prescriptions that we need to cope with illness and the world around us.  But the rest of us have our drug of choice as well:  food, sex, drugs (including alcohol and nicotine), hoarding--all to varying degrees.  We numb ourselves and our thoughts and emotions so we don't have to deal with ourselves and others all the time.  This, too, is part of our brand of crazy.

Women and men have considered the other to be their own brand of crazy for a long time.  Opposites of many kinds think the 'other' is the enemy, the one who needs to be controlled, the one at fault, in the wrong, who needs to apologize.

But we do find ways of living with all these brands of crazy.  When we can accept and love someone not just despite but even because of their brand of crazy and share ours with them, we call that intimacy.  When my brand of crazy gives your brand of crazy a second chance, or vice versa, we call that grace.  And when we stop measuring others against our own brand of crazy, when we put ours aside and let another brand take center stage, when we forgive and are forgiven, when we forget to keep score, give others the benefit of the doubt--we come to the best brand of crazy of all:  Love.

As our good friend Thoreau once said, "There is no remedy for Love but to love more."  Love is the one brand of crazy we can indulge in, keep doing it, and maybe actually be able to come to that place of peace.  Maybe even let go.

The Dalai Lama.  Gandhi.  Jesus.  Dorothy Day.  Hildegard of Bingen.  Mother Teresa.  Albert Einstein.  Marie Curie.  What a bunch of nuts.  Thanks be to that nutjob God.

Easter–Day 2: Restless

"You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you."  —St. Augustine


My period can’t figure out
whether it’s going to start
or not, one more thing
reminding me of my hovering
job search, my life
on pause.
The wind is blowing outside,
great whooshes of power
gusting, swirling dead leaves,
no live ones as yet.
The turbine on the roof,
bent from a hurricane,
whirls in a bumpy fashion,
as if we had upstairs neighbors,
humping with abandon.
I can’t decide what to do next,
though much of it is nothing
worthy of such indecision.

The Spirit never promised

peace, only sighs.

Cynthia E. Robinson © 2013

Coffee with Jesus: Friendless Friday

Nobody stopped by for coffee because of the cup he was drinking from. 
You never know, it might be catching.

Were you there

When she felt alone,

unknown, adrift
in the dark spaces between us?                            

When he grabbed the gun,

swallowed the pills,
huffed a noxious puff,
poured out his blood
into the bathtub?

Were you there

on the bedroom floor,
kitchen linoleum,
bathroom tile,
after the fist, the belt, the knife?

Were you there

when the cashier dropped her hand,
pushed the alarm two seconds
too slow?
When the deal went bad,
or the heart roiled with revenge?
 
Bless those who will
meet up with the cross tonight,
whose darkness has not yet
known a dawn so bright
it could bring us back from death.


(c) Cynthia E. Robinson 2013

The power of music

I've been having a rough time of it some days, hence, the lack of posts. Waiting and the distraction of it by keeping busy can take its toll. But then moments like these come along, and provide a space to be vulnerable and yet experience some healing. This is one of those songs when it felt like the Spirit had unzipped my armor and yanked it down to the floor, leaving my fragile self exposed and yet not broken but somehow stronger for it.

(My oldest daughter is standing to my left and my husband is standing behind her.)

No guarantees

When Jesus went out into the desert, the devil offered him all sorts of goodies:  you'll never go hungry, you'll be safe, you'll have all the power in the world.  But Jesus knew better than that.  He knew himself and he knew God better than that.  God never promised us a rose garden.  The only promise that God ever made that may have been worth any salt was through Jesus:  I will be with you, to the end of the age.

Ironically, though, God did not even keep that promise to Jesus.  On the cross we hear Jesus cry the words of Psalm 22:  "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"  At some point in our lives, we will face the cross in all its pain and sorrow and isolation.  In fact, being faithful to God, as Jesus was, just might lead right to it.

Good friends, good people, keep telling me that the right church is out there for me, that I need to keep the faith.  If ever I have lived through a wilderness time, this year plus some months of searching has certainly been one of the most challenging.  Ever since I made the decision 16 yrs. ago to stay home with my girls, I never thought it would be this difficult to reenter full-time ministry.  I thought that somehow God owed me one, that since I had been willing to give up my vocation to fulfill another (motherhood), God would reward me with the church of my dreams.

Hah.

God didn't promise me a thing.  I devised that whole fairytale to get me through the lonely times, through not having the company of a single pastor who has relinqished what I have; not being able to share the same struggles and joys as my colleagues when we gathered for fellowship;  not serving at the Table; not being available to preach because all four of us being at church together was more important some Sundays; not being able to attend clergy groups or conferences or Synod; not working except when I could because I was not able to divide my energy between being a mother and being a pastor.  To those of you who have been able to do this, I wholeheartedly applaud you and I am envious of you.  But I would also not trade places with you.  Accepting this does not make any of this easier.

It would be sheer bliss if I could look back on this time from the quiet of my pastor's study in some future church and see the reasons why, the connections, the purpose, the meaning of this desert, this back-and-forth with the constant presence/fiercest adversary I know as God.  Anybody who has cancer or who is struggling to keep afloat with house and bills or who can't find the right combination of meds to allow some normalcy of life or whatever the battle is, knows about this and knows that it really doesn't help.  Because there are no guarantees.  George Burns smoked cigars and drank martinis almost every day of his life, and he lived to be 99.  I could eat right, exercise, and still get hit by a truck tomorrow.  Or keep the faith and still not be called by a church.

The desert is all about being faithful, not about anything promised on the other side or there even being the other side.  It's about remaining true to oneself and not letting the desert and its demons corrupt your soul.  It's about loving and forgiving and being merciful and compassionate, perhaps even joyful when what you'd really like to do is grab the Almighty (or the nearest bystander) by the collar and ask what the hell is going on. 

Hope isn't pretty.  The reason it can be so hard to hold onto is because it's covered in thorns.  Hope isn't the resurrection; it's the cross.  It's crying out to God even when you know it's not going to get you off the damned cross, when you're going to die anyway but it's the only prayer you've got left.

Am I going to find a church?  Damned if I know.  All I do know is that I'm thankful I don't have to do it alone.  Although, there are days it sure as hell feels that way.  Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief.  Amen.

Good Friday world

Craigie Aitchison, Crucifixion, 1998

Ever feel like
the bogeyman is just
around the corner?
All the time?
God can’t stop it.
You know it,
I know it.
As for Psalm 91,
'no evil shall befall you'
residing in the palm of God's hand:
Forget about your foot
being dashed by
a silly stone.                                                             

We whiz through space
while meteors hurl their way
through fragile atmosphere, storied glass,            
flesh and dirt.
God lives
to disturb
as much as comfort,                         
provoke as much as heal.
The incarnation
wasn’t just about
sheep-and-goat morality.
Who do you think was
testing Jesus in the desert
but his rabbi-father-adversary?
Makes a whole lot more sense of
that ‘love your enemies’ thing.
The cross
in all its shame and neglect,
wouldn’t have happened
if God hadn’t walked away
like the rest of us.

Cynthia E. Robinson © 2013

NFL: Not For Long

Last night was the last Super Bowl, the last football game I will ever watch.  Football is the first cousin once removed from gun violence.  If you don't agree, think on this:  at least seven NFL players have killed themselves using a handgun:  Jeff Alm, Andre Waters, Dave Duerson, Ray Easterling, Junior Seau, Kurt Crain, OJ Murdock, and Jovan Belcher.  Most, if not all of them, have been posthumously diagnosed with chronic traumatic encephalopathy, a degenerative brain disease which can cause severe headaches and lead to depression, dementia, even symptoms similar to Alzheimer's.  Even if a player has had few concussions, they still can develop this disease from repeated knocks to the head.  From violence done to their bodies in the name of sport and entertainment.

My church sponsored three Super Bowl parties:  junior and senior high youth groups and the adult fellowship group.  I was at the adult gathering.  Many of us bemoaned the outrageous cost of advertising, commenting on how many people could be fed, housed, treated for cancer, receive organ transplants.  These are good people.  I have worked and sweated, studied and struggled, laughed and cried with these folks, many times in the service of others.  And yet we could not talk about the connection between what we were watching and cheering and yelling about and the gun violence in our nation.

Many folks in our congregation are still suffering with and trying to move through the trauma of the Sandy Hook shooting.  One daughter of a family sings in the Sandy Hook Elementary School chorus that performed last night.  Her mother said the kids were treated like royalty, and so they should be.  And yet it was at an event that glorifies violence into entertainment, like the gladiators of the Roman empire.

 


Shoulder pads, chest protection, helmets, a stadium, and roaring crowds.  Money, lots of it.  And the accompanying sex trade.  We are an empire on its way down.  When a tragedy occurs or we cry out against an injustice, we peel back layers of our society and we don't like what we find.  Hence, we try to fix the disturbing problem but we only go so far.  Not nearly far enough, like the Affordable Care Act, getting out of Iraq and Afghanistan but keeping Gitmo open, the upcoming compromises I'm sure we'll see with gun control.  Make your own list. 

I wish I had had the good sense to stay home and watch Downton Abbey, one of its broad themes being the passing of the old world of money, power, and influence and the birth of a new world of equality, justice, and compassion.  What we have been experiencing for about a century are the death throes of the domination system - patriarchy, power, hegemony, empire, competition, the rich few over the multitudinous working class and the poor.  What is being born is a system based on partnership, interdependence, cooperation, enough for everyone, we can only do this together.  And like any birth, transition can be the most difficult, painful phase.

I realize this perspective is not popular.  But as one of the deacons reminded us yesterday in his opening prayer, God calls us to be unusual, inconvenient, unpredictable, and unpopular, often going against the crowd, in order that God's kingdom would be made visible, justice be done and peace made.

One day out of forty

         (a poem for Lent) 
                                                             

There are times

I so want to
be bad—
smoke a cigar or pipe,
swear without regret,
another Scotch,
just one hit,
stay in bed till noon,
say exactly what I think
feel
know
doubt
wonder
question,
though it may be
my quickest way to hell.
Didn’t Jesus deign
to descend,
rescue the lost
forgotten ones,
willfully bad or those 
who just stumbled from despair?

Don’t write when
you’re buzzed.
You’ll think
it’s the only way
to unearth yourself,
speak your truth.
In the sober morning
you think
you should throw this away
but you won’t.
Waste just might be
the main course
of redemption.

© Cynthia E. Robinson 2013

Go!

I have been reading church profiles for over a year now.  I go to the UCC website, to the
employment opportunities page, find churches that fit my basic criteria (ONA, geographic location, church size, willingness to do things differently), then request the regional or association office to send my profile to that church's search committee.  I usually receive a reply that my profile has been received and that there will be some communication in the future after my profile has been read by the committee.  If the search committee decides to retain my profile, i.e., they're interested in pursuing a conversation of sorts with me, then I receive the local church's profile usually via email.

A local church profile is very similar to the one that UCC clergy are required to submit.  One thing they have in common is a list of 34 desirable qualities in a local church pastor.  Those who provide a reference for me are asked to choose 12 of those qualities as my primary strengths as a pastor.  I am also required to choose from that list as part of my self-assessment, to see if how I view myself has any congruency with how laypeople and other clergy view me.  Local churches, as part of their profile, also choose from the same list the 12 qualities they desire most in their next settled pastor.

The quality I see most often desired in a pastor is this one:  "Works regularly at bringing new members into the church."  As if I were a salesman with a quota, peddling my wares, like an Amway rep.  New England Congregationalism is often referred to as "herding cats".  Bringing new members into an already contentious or self-focused fold seems dubious at best.  Unless, of course, a church is ready for the change-agents that new members can be rather than workers that need to be assimilated.  Oddly enough, there is no place in a church's profile for them to talk about how the congregation works regularly at bringing new members into the church.  It appears to be the sole responsibility of the pastor to do this.  Nevermind the Holy Spirit.

I am not a Bible scholar, per se, but I do not recall reading Jesus saying something like, "Just stay here, do what you're doing--worship, Sunday School, all kinds of programs and the like--and I'll go get folks for you and bring them here."  What he did say was, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.¹⁹         Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,²⁰ and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.  And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

The days of attracting new members to local churches is over and has been for quite some time.  Marketing has its place in the world but I can't see Jesus wearing swag or having a tag line, soundbite or quotable tweet.  "God is still speaking" has done wonders for some local churches, but if we the church can't put into being exactly what it is God is speaking to us (or if we aren't listening), after a time it rings rather hollow.  It's not a coincidence that the Church has become irrelevant to many at the same time when churches across the theological spectrum lament "It doesn't seem to matter what programs we offer.  People just don't come here like they used to."  It takes a big risk for a person, a couple, a family to walk in the front door of a church for the first time.  When was the last time the church truly risked itself for the sake of the gospel and for one person, a family, a lost cause?  When was the last time the church was relevant to society, a time when we could point to the church and said, "Yes, there!"?  The civil rights movement?  The United Church of Christ can point to its own accomplishments but can anyone else?  At the present moment, it appears our society has more progressive people than the entire Christian church.

Even if we do go and are faithful to the gospel of peace and justice, there are no guarantees that it will result in new members, a healthy budget and a glorious foreseeable future.  The only thing Jesus promises is that he will be with us always, to the end of the age.  Faithfulness is its own reward, changed lives are the goal, and as a pastor I'm supposed to work myself out of a job. 

Now if I could just be called to a church to work myself out of....