What Do You Hold On To?

Church-Wide Art Project ~ What Do You Hold On To?

 In the poem that follows, William Stafford uses the image of a thread that serves as a lifeline either connecting us to home, or what defines us, or what matters most to us.  What we hold on to helps keep us connected when we are threatened by the world outside or inside us.

 

The Way It Is by William Stafford

 

There’s a thread you follow.  It goes among

things that change.  But it doesn’t change.

People wonder about what you are pursuing.

You have to explain about the thread.

But it is hard for others to see.

While you hold it you can’t get lost.

Tragedies happen; people get hurt

or die; and you suffer and get old.

Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.

You don’t ever let go of the thread.

 

As a community of faith we hold certain things in common, but there are other things we hold on to that represent our personal story.  For our next exhibit of The Gallery at First, we want to represent who we are individually and who we are together as a community in a creative, visual way.  It is our hope that through the medium of art we might convey something significant about ourselves in response to the question:  What Do You Hold On To?  You may choose to draw an image, cut paper to create a collage,  or decorate a poem or verse  that is meaningful to you.

Tables in Ingram Hall will be hosted by art enthusiasts and encouragers through May 6.  We’ll have the supplies ready, all we ask is for you to come to the table. We hope the experience of working alongside one another deepens our sense of community.  Come as a family, as a small group, as friends, or on your own or take the project with you and work at home.  We will celebrate the opening of this new art exhibit on May 27.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A sampling of art already created . . .

 

 

Do Visual Arts Belong in Worship?

A note placed in last week’s offering plate asked:  “Could you please explain the art piece behind the cross, it’s hard to interpret?”  This raises the question of whether art needs interpretation or should interpret itself.

The front of our sanctuary features a floor to ceiling panel three inches in relief from the wall which frames a mounted cross made of bronze and molten rock-shaped glass.  During this Lenten season our visual arts team has layered black, brown, grey, and newsprint papers onto this panel to represent the slow and progressive encroachment of sin in our personal lives and the sin of the world.

With each successive week in Lent, more and more paper has been added and the original gold painted panel has been overtaken with strips of dark, oppressive colors and shapes.  The presentation is chaotic and disturbing.  What usually is an ornate focal point for worship—the cross—is now difficult to see.  The layered papers, like sin, dominate and pervade our worship experience.

G. K. Chesterton once observed, there is a road from the eye to heart that does not go through the intellect. In a church like ours, which relies heavily on word and cognitive apprehension for worship, it is important we exercise our intuitive and imaginative capacity as part of our worship and growth experience with God.

Through the display of visual arts we want to increase our capacity to bring our whole selves to God in worship and inspire effective service of God in the world.  No doubt as the papers increased and with it the mounting darkness, so did our reaction.  Make it stop and go away.  Replace it with something of beauty. Isn’t that precisely how we feel about the pain, suffering, and anguish of sin in our lives and in this world?

Soon we will see and know that God is more powerful than that which we face: sin, evil, and death.  The message of Jesus’ cross and resurrection means newness of life and God’s re-creation of us into something beautiful.

Go Well, Stay Well, Griffins

We celebrate with the Griffins God’s call of Mike to be Senior Pastor of Sierra Presbyterian Church in Grass Valley, California.  We will miss Mike and Beth, Joshua and soon-to-be-born baby brother, yet we are grateful to God for their leadership and ministry among us these past 8 ½ years.  Mike’s farewell sermon will be this Sunday, March 11th followed by a congregational  luncheon.  Sunday, March 18th, Mike will serve as worship leader to close out his pastoral role here at First Presbyterian Church of Santa Rosa.  With vacation days he will be employed through mid-April and officially start at Sierra Presbyterian Church on April 22.

At the luncheon, other farewell gatherings, and with our congregational cash gift, we collectively convey our love and appreciation for Mike’s role as our Associate Pastor and the gift the Griffins have been to our congregation.  We honor Mike and Beth’s relational investment and pastoral care these many years.

We congratulate the Sierra Presbyterian congregation for their choice of Mike as their new pastor.  Through Mike’s leadership we have experienced growth in our small group ministry, adult discipleship, and mentoring.  Mike’s coordination of staff and volunteer leaders for our contemporary service has resulted in meaningful worship with creative use of celebration arts. Mike’s leadership of Deacons and coordination with Caring Ministries has significantly contributed to the overall culture of care experienced by our congregation.  Like us, you will come to appreciate Mike’s pastoral gifts of preaching, teaching, development of lay leaders, and organizational planning.  May your congregation grow in strong in faith, deep in love, and faithful in witness to Christ and his kingdom as a result of your call of Mike Griffin as your pastor.

Why go to memorials?

As a minister I attend several memorials each year.  Most, I officiate, but I also go as an attendee.  There are times I do not know the deceased, but I participate as an act of honoring their life and caring for their survivors.   Often I hear someone say to a person grieving the loss of a loved one, “if there is anything I can do just tell me.”  Given the chance, I would advise them to “go to the memorial.”  Your presence says you care more than words ever could.

I do not regret giving time to attend a memorial.  In every instance I come away with something valuable in the form of an experience or feeling I seldom know any other way.  Ceremonies like weddings and funerals address questions we need to ask ourselves on a regular basis.  When a bride and groom recite their vows, it is impossible for onlookers to avoid the question:  what is the measure of my commitment to those I’ve given my promise?  When relatives or friends share their remembrance of a loved one, I am challenged by how that person lived and the kind of influence they had on others which leads me to ask, what am I doing with my time?

Last week I officiated for the memorial of John Brown.  Many things in the memorial stood out; such as the full military honors presented by a dozen members of the United States Marine Corps, a soloist singing “The Lord’s Prayer,” and a bagpiper playing “Amazing Grace.”  However, when attendees remarked that this was one of the best memorials they have been part of, I think it was because they identified with one or more of the remembrances spoken with admiration and appreciation of John’s life.  John invested in the community with leadership given to various service organizations.  Never content to sit on a board (three of which he served over 20 years simultaneously), John wanted to see them work.  As his son Barry stated, “He was simply a man who wanted to see good things happen and worked tirelessly to get a building built or a program implemented.”  For the YMCA he helped construct a building; for the Salvation Army he helped start a mobile unit providing relief in emergencies; for the Rotary Club, he launched a foundation to fund projects with investment dollars.

John’s life was lived in self-giving –a complete contrast to today’s patterns of self-advancement and self-serving. He was generous with his time, his thoughts, his resources, and his life.  As the beneficiary of God’s love and service, John, in turn, chose to live his life in gratitude for God’s gift and to show that same love to those whom God brought into his life.

Sometimes the memorial is less about a person’s accomplishments than it is about their behavior or character; such as the devotion of a grandparent or how well someone celebrated others without drawing attention to him or herself.  In nearly every one, I learn valuable lessons of how to live by reflecting on the choices of others.

I leave the memorial, but the person’s life does not leave me.  Some speak of how his or her memory lives on.   But this is more than a memory.  By taking time to honor someone’s life, I’ve allowed him or her to influence my own.

Before I Offer an Answer I Must Know the Question

The title of David Kinnaman’s new book, You Lost Me, threatens me as a communicator of the gospel and pastor of a church.  I don’t need the president of a research group with statistical data to tell me that the next generation is not as involved or engaged in church as previous generations have been.  That much is clear, but what I wasn’t prepared to face was my responsibility for their departure.  Ouch!

There are some who recommend adapting worship styles, such as adding rock music or film clips, to attract this age group and possibly hold their interest.  Research indicates even these changes are not enough.  Mainline churches in America are in decline, but so are the rest of America’s churches.  Kinnaman calls attention to another concern revealed from their research:   “more than 4 out of 5 Americans believe the Bible is the inspired Word of God.  The larger problem is many doubt the Bible has a claim on their lives.  We respect the Bible, but we don’t obey it.”   If Kinnaman’s conclusion is correct the problem is greater than it appears.

Could it be that America’s church leaders have put too much emphasis on church growth by numbers at the neglect of growing our churches in depth?  Have we assumed incorrectly that if people went to church more they would be better individuals and their behavior would be more like Jesus? Yet, how do we account for the drastic disconnect between what we say we believe and how we behave?

In his New York Times article “America’s Children and Our Shallow Values” (September 16, 2011), David Brooks summarizes the research of Notre Dame sociologist Christian Smith and others who interviewed 230 young adults across the United States in the summer of 2008 about moral thinking and values.  Their findings, says Brooks, reflects an “atmosphere of extreme moral individualism, relativism, and non-judgmentalism.” Few of these youth could articulate a moral dilemma or formulate a conviction of right and wrong.  More often than not they simply stated that in a given situation they would follow their feelings and avoid moral questions.

This lack of developed moral thinking and judgment in youth is the responsibility of us all.  According to Brooks, our children have not been given the resources in schools, institutions, and families “to cultivate their moral intuitions, to think more broadly about moral obligations, to check behaviors that may be degrading. In this way, the study says more about adult America than youthful America.”

I think both Kinnaman and Brooks have something important to say to me and my role in the church.  They have me asking new questions that go beyond how I might attract youth to church. I need to address how the way I teach the Bible has little influence on the behavior of both youth and adult alike.  Also, why has moral development devolved into a matter of personal choice?  Where do I need to concentrate my time to be more effective as a leader?  Challenged by the observations of Kinnaman and Brooks, I want to develop teaching and training methods that will result in the formation of authentic followers of Jesus who stand out by their convictions in a culture dominated by distractions, personal preferences, and convenience.   I long to see such an investment in people’s lives matter, the way salt flavors food and the way light transforms darkness.