Pastor Miller

I remember Pastor Miller preaching at Barclay Heights Community Church. We met in the lodge of an old YMCA camp on Esopus Creek near Glenerie Falls. When the lodge became our permanent home, we changed the name of the church to Glenerie Chapel.

I remember Pastor Miller praying; his opening prayers were nearly the equal of his sermons. These were not pithy, punchy, sound-bited perfunctories; his prayers were ten minutes of engagement with God on matters of the day, from local to global.

I remember Pastor Miller’s velvet singing voice. It reminded me of a baritone Andy Williams with a bit of Mel Torme. From where I sat, singing seemed to be pure pleasure for him.

I remember Pastor Miller telling us about Christ’s Passion during a springtime Sunday night service thirty-some years ago. One of the other teens ran out of the lodge, weeping – overtaken by the description of what Jesus had endured for him. I ran after him and listened to his story.

I remember Pastor Miller’s Christianity including humanness. He didn’t try to portray himself as saintly; he wasn’t aloof from his congregation. He wasn’t afraid to laugh.

I don’t remember when Pastor Miller invited me to call him “Bob”. The truth is I never really got used to it. He was simply “Pastor” to me.

I remember Pastor Miller saying he thought I’d become a pastor someday. I didn’t like that, and I fought it for a long time. But over the years, his was among a small number of voices through which God conferred that calling to me. I don’t wear it as comfortably as he did but I try to be true to my legacy.

Today, I’m remembering to remember because it’s the day of Pastor’s memorial service. I wish I could be present. He and his family are very much on my mind. I’m praying they feel the support of their communities as they find their way forward. I’m praying they know they’re not carrying his memory alone. And I’m praying they find grace today to celebrate him with all their might.

thriving church

“The thriving church grows because growth is never its primary purpose. Mission is its primary purpose. Increasing participation and membership is a side effect – but it is an inevitable side effect. In the universal yearning for self-worth, inner meaning, and a noble destiny, people always discover that it is far more meaningful actively to give life away to the world, than passively to preserve life within the institution.”

Thomas G. Bandy from Kicking Habits

church perspective (Mayhew)

"The church is not an institution 'out there', which I support. It is the community that enfolds and identifies who I am as an individual."

Ray Mayhew

awful coffee and a Lorna Doone

Bleary-eyed and hours from home, struggling to stay awake... Awful coffee and a Lorna Doone cookie at the rest stop... Okay, I think I can make it for another chunk of miles.

Thank God for the Rotary and Kiwanis people who cheerfully host those simple oases.

Maybe that’s what weekly church services are for: offering simple, spiritual hospitality and helping souls stay awake to their faith journeys.

absorption & transcendence

Self-absorption is a symptom of relational entropy.
It exacerbates fragmentation.

Self-transcendence, on the other hand, integrates the self within a greater meaning .
It paradoxically deepens identity and propels individuation.

"It takes all sorts to make a world; or a church. This may be even truer of a church. If grace perfects nature it must expand all our natures into the full richness of the diversity which God intended when He made them, and Heaven will display far more variety than Hell."

C.S. Lewis

Lawn and Garden Care

An ideal lawn is completely uniform. The grass is one height, one texture, and one shade of green. Needless to say, weeds, moss, and wildflowers have no business there. It would never be confused with the wild; it is set apart from nature. It covers a clearly defined area like a cool, green carpet.

A garden, on the other hand, celebrates variety. It is home to an assortment of plants, each with its own needs and qualities. Deciduous, evergreen, creeping, climbing, twiggy, bushy, leafy, shade-loving, sun-craving, drought-resistant, frost-sensitive, hardy, showy, modest, etc… It is a place for wildly diverse expressions of planthood.

The ideal garden is a seamless, living truce between the tame and the wild – between humans and nature. Lawns, on the other hand, are human creations; nature has only a limited role with them. A proper lawn can’t exist without a lawnmower. Conversely, the thought of mowing a garden is as ludicrous as it is disturbing!

Is the church more like a lawn or a garden? It’s easier to manage a large group of people if their maintenance can be standardized. The same watering regimen, the same fertilizer and the same dose of weed-killer work for everyone. Measuring progress is far less complicated if the target is conformity to one standard.

Sameness isn’t holiness, though. Our challenge is to bring ourselves into alignment with Christ’s image, not conform to someone’s notion of the ideal Christian. It will require a host of believers, each reflecting Christ’s image according to their own unique styles, to even begin to express the vast loveliness of Jesus.

In my opinion, the Creator wants a garden. Jesus interacted with people in all sorts of ways; his approaches were as diverse as the people themselves were. The only group he tended to address in broad, generalized terms was the group that wanted to mow humanity: the religious elite. But it is obvious that his true passion was for individuals. He engaged people creatively and uniquely; he delighted in discovering and illuminating each person’s interior.

A lawn church is fertilized and weeded with a toxic concoction of religion and subculture. Legalism is its lawnmower. It is artificially sustained, separate from both God’s kingdom and the world.

Conversely, the garden church celebrates variety. It is home to assorted humans with assorted needs and qualities. Some are colorful, some muted – some kinetic, some reserved – some produce spiritual fruit continually, while some require seasons of rest after harvests. Some are as fussy as roses; some are as hardy (and occasionally as invasive…) as weeds. Some are as strong as trees, and some cling like vines. Some announce their yield of fruit with showy blossoms, and others bear their fruit invisibly underground. The garden church is a place for wildly diverse expressions of the human faith-journey.