Prison

Yesterday was Jackson County Government Day with the Leadership Blue Springs group that I am a part of this year. Our morning began in the legislative chambers in downtown Kansas City, where we heard from some of the different folks who keep our county humming along. From there, it was just a short walk across the street to the Jackson County Detention Center. After sitting in a windowless classroom and hearing about the facilities, we walked through many different parts of the jail. As I walked past inmates, I couldn’t help but wonder what hope looks like to people who stay there. Even though the day was bitterly cold, it felt good to step outside. In one of those so-fast-your-head-spins transitions, our after lunch stop was Arrowhead Stadium, where we got a tour of some of the luxury boxes. We went from jail to the best seats in town in such a short period of time.

By the end of the day, my cold that had been brewing blossomed from annoying to full-fledged sickness. Today was a day spent at home, mostly in bed with blankets and Kleenex. Even as achy and slimy as I am, I think about where I was yesterday, and I am grateful to be where I am today.

Following, not Leading

Last night at Barnes and Noble, I picked up a book that I am as excited about as any church book I’ve read in a long time, Leonard Sweet’s I Am a Follower. Although I haven’t finished it yet, I love his thesis: we aren’t called to be leaders, but followers of Jesus Christ. In his critique of the church leadership movement, he points out that pastors’ bookshelves (including mine) are lined with business management books. Now that the economic recession has proved many of the Good to Great companies to be flawed, the church is having to come to terms with the weaknesses of many principles they had co-opted. Sweet points out that Willow Creek Church, the source of much of modern church leadership practices, has now led the way in repenting of this infatuation with the business model. What if what we clergy need to do most is not become better leaders, but to make sure that we are genuine followers?

This week has been a challenging one in terms of losses. Usually I love the abundance of relationships and opportunities that this itinerant clergy lifestyle provides. This week, however, there have been deaths of some people significant to me in previous phases of my ministry. It has felt like a multiplication of losses. I was reading Roger Hermann’s obituary today, and it captured him perfectly. “He was a lifelong member of the Trinity United Methodist Church. The church was the center of Roger's life. If the doors were open he was there. He volunteered every Saturday taking care of anything that might be needed to prepare for the next day's service: sharpening pencils, preparing the gifts for service, making sure the pastor had water, etc.” As soon as I read those words, I pictured Roger carrying a brown tray with two small glasses of water each week- one for the pulpit, and one for the lectern. I don’t know that I ever sipped the water that he brought (I’m a dedicated hot tea drinker when I’m preaching), but it was always there. I have a hunch that, if I had sipped it, it might have tasted something like the wine of Cana.

In thinking about the life of this servant of Christ and others that I have been blessed to know, I am certain that Leonard Sweet is on to something. It’s not about leading, it’s about following and serving.

Facebook for Oldies

They say Facebook was created for the young, but I am glad that it has been co-opted by old folks like me. I have been able, amazingly, to connect with people most of a lifetime and half a continent away. I haven’t been to the Lovett School in Atlanta since my high school graduation in 1980- well, except for a visit in the 1990’s to show my children where I went to school. (Not a single teacher remembered me.) I married and moved to the Midwest, other friends married, unmarried, remarried, moved, stayed, or moved back. Losing track was inevitable. Incredibly, through the magic of Facebook, I’m now able to share witty rejoinders with folks that I was witty with in the hallways of Lovett. I’ve found daily strength from reading a blog written by someone that I was not terribly close to in high school but value deeply now. And I have reconnected with friends that were close enough that we knew our way around each other’s houses. (Susan, I will always love your childhood home for its heated floors!)

Best of all is the chance to catch glimpses of some pretty amazing adults, having shed much of the angst of middle and high school. Who knew that we’d turn out okay? It seems that we have. None of us is perfect, and we may not have the lives we imagined in those days. But here we are, and each new person that I find feels like a new perspective, an added blessing. We’ve made it this far, and I am thankful. And glad to be back in the lives, at least partly, of (as we'd say back in the day) some pretty cool dudes and dudettes.