The automobile industry in this country has been called unresponsive to the needs of the common person, out of touch with societal trends, and uncaring about global changes. As a result the industry is suffering mightily and is quickly trying to retool to respond to the needs of a changing world.

Likewise, I've heard the same arguments over the last 20 years about the church and, let's face it, the church is suffering as well.

Maybe both deservedly so. So, what can the church learn from Detroit's collapse? While the analogy isn't perfect, let me suggest a few things.

Refocus Mission - The auto industry is desperately heading back to the drawing board and asking itself key questions about its mission. In other words, what are we meant to do? Often success breeds complacency and we can get focused on irrelevancies that take our focus off our core mission. A few years ago here at United Church we started using our Mission Statement in every publication and at every service of worship and at every council meetings so that by now, hopefully, everyone in our church, young and old, have committed it to memory. What are we about? We are about welcoming all people and nurturing followers of Jesus Christ.

Reconsider Distribution - One of the things that is much talked about is how Detroit distributes its product and how it relates directly, or indirectly, with the consumer. In the same way I think the church needs to rethink how we relate to people. Our old model, and Detroit's old model, is that the people come to us and their choices are limited. In today's world the people don't need to come to us and the amount of information they have is great. The church, like Detroit, needs to reorient to a much more savvy and less beholden public.

Brand Loyalty is Nonexistent - In the past there were Ford families or Chrysler families who would only buy a particular brand of car. They were fiercely loyal to that company and would extol its virtues. Now people will buy cars based on their circumstantial needs without regard to the brand. Likewise denominational loyalty no longer holds sway in today's world and that's just a fact. Just because you grew up in a United Methodist home does not guarantee that you won't go to a Pentecostal church later in life. Loyalty must be earned and people look at congregations on a case to case basis. Churches whining about this fact changes nothing and, actually, there is a great opportunity here.

Economies of Scale vs. Changing Consumer Need - Detroit made it big using assembly lines and creating economies of scale to drive down costs. The problem is that the consumer's need is not always met by this cookie cutter approach and it made Detroit very slow to respond to the changing world around them. In the same way churches need to be nimble and ready to respond quickly. This, actually, is where the church, especially small and midsized churches, like our own, has a perceived advantage. The church works on a decentralized model where each congregation is given quite a bit of autonomy within our basic guidelines. This should mean that every congregation is free to adapt and change to its context. The challenge is sharing these innovations to other congregations to spark creativity and renewal. The good news is that this is happening and, largely because of the internet, there is more peer to peer sharing of innovations within the church than ever before. This is truly an exciting chapter in church history.

These are four parallels, in an admittedly imperfect analogy, that I could think of right off the top of my head. What are some that you see? How do you think the church can learn from other circumstances in the world today? Where does the analogy break down for you? Let me know. Leave a comment.

Peace,

Pastor Lawrence

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Thinking theologically doesn't come naturally. It takes work.

A few weeks ago, around the bicentennial of the birth of Charles Darwin, I decided to lead our Confirmation Class in a theological discussion of the theory of evolution.

It's unfortunate, really, that much of what we learn of argument comes from television pundits who characterize dialogue as two people who take opposing points of view and then go at it for 6 minutes at a time, taking breaks for the network to sell you soap or beer. I'm hoping that we can teach our children that true argument is not about defending positions, but about a shared search for the truth.

To guide our discussion I employed Wesley's Quadrilateral of Scripture, Tradition, Experience, and Reason. As stated in the Book of Discipline:

"Wesley believed that the living core of the Christian faith was revealed in Scripture, illumined by tradition, vivified in personal experience, and confirmed by reason. Scripture is primary, revealing the Word of God 'so far as it is necessary for our salvation.'"

So we started with Scripture and read the first account of creation, found in Genesis 1. We recognized that the purpose of this text was not so much to describe physical creation, as the creation it describes is significantly different from the world as we know and perceive it, but to state in unambiguous terms that God creates and what God creates is blessed and called "good."

We then turned to Tradition, looking at the teachings of the church. We looked particularly at the official teachings of the Presbyterian Church (USA)...

"Our responsibility as Christians is to deal seriously with the theories and findings of all scientific endeavors, evolution included, and to enter into open dialogue with responsible persons involved in scientific tasks about the achievement, failures and limits of their activities and of ours... Unless it is clearly necessary to uphold a basic Biblical doctrine, the Church is not called upon and should carefully refrain from either affirming or denying the theory of evolution. We conclude that the true relation between the evolutionary theory and the Bible is that of non-contradiction."

and of the United Methodist Church...

"We recognize science as a legitimate interpretation of God’s natural world. We affirm the validity of the claims of science in describing the natural world, although we preclude science from making authoritative claims about theological issues."

The we turned to our own Experience and what Reason tells us. We talked about the Scientific Method and how we use our senses and our logic to interpret the world around us. I was grateful to have Roger Anderson present to talk about his own journey as a teacher of science and a person of faith and how he sees these pursuits as not only compatible, but complimentary.

We did not all agree in our discussion about what to think about evolution, but what I hope we learned by our discussion is that neither science nor theology have anything to fear from the truth.

Out of human hubris the church insisted for centuries that the earth was the center of the cosmos and used the creation story to support the claim, but now we commonly accept that the earth is not a flat disc under a dome through which the planets and stars process, but a smallish planet that hurtles around a nuclear furnace on the edge of a galaxy that is only one among innumerable galaxies. Does this impoverish our theology? Not in the least. It enriches it because it reminds us that we are but a small part of a much larger cosmos.

The Bible is not a book of science. It does not do a good job of describing the physical world. But it does do an amazing job describing our spiritual reality. We are created by God and we are blessed to live in a world that has been lovingly prepared. We have responsibilities as keepers of the garden. We are wonderfully and fearfully made.

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This month our country will participate in our quadrennial rite of inauguration. And while our eyes may be glued on the television with pictures coming from Washington D. C. and live-blogging on the internet, we probably should all just take a step outside and look to the skies.

The word "inauguration," after all, comes from the word "augur" and augurs were ancient Roman priests. They were consulted when any important matters of state were to be decided - going to war, business deals, treaties, or electing new leaders. And augurs got their cues by studying the flight patterns of birds.

Historians have noted how corrupt the augurs probably were. Uncannily, birds seemed to cooperate with whoever gave the augurs the nicest donations. But, still, as we inaugurate a new leader I think it's important to look skyward.

And if we did look skyward, what signs would we see?
• Migration patterns altered by climate change.
• Bird species going extinct at the rate of 10 a year.
• Air pollution, noise pollution, water pollution, and ground pollution all heavily impacting avian life.
• Natural habitats and nesting grounds being destroyed.

What signs, indeed?

As a wise man once said, "You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows."

One of the huge differences between ancient and contemporary cultures is how human-centered we are. No doubt it will be the human story that plays large on Inauguration Day. But ancient cultures, which we scoff at for being superstitious or unscientific, at least understood that we as human beings took our place among many creatures in the cosmos, though, perhaps, our impact is inordinately large.

So I pray for our new president because the signs of the birds do not bode well for us. If we are to take our stewardship of all creation seriously, we must look to the skies, to the waters, to the pastures, and to the woods. We must hear what the birds are telling us about who we are and where we are going.

So this Inauguration Day please look skyward and pray.

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Call me "Pollyanna" but I think that, maybe, just maybe, a tanking economy may be the best thing to happen to Christmas in years.

Just today I got two emails from church members about how they are approaching Christmas differently this year, de-emphasizing presents and emphasizing presence. After all, what is the greatest present you have to give? A thing you bought off a shelf? I doubt it. When we give ourselves we give a lot more. And when we say "it's the thought that counts" then why not give what matters?

So here are some suggestions of things we can do to make this Christmas the best ever.

Make your own gifts. You don't have to be crafty. How about compiling a small book of your own recipes? Or maybe you could record some poems or readings on tape or CD to give to friends. Instead of a gift exchange with friends, how about setting up a cookie exchange?

Give yourself. How about giving coupon for babysitting or leaf raking or snow shoveling? Instead of a gift certificate, how about an invitation to come over for a meal? If you are skilled in an area, offer to give a tutorial!

Volunteer. Help out as a family or group of friends at our local food shelf or CHUM or Damiano or Neighbor to Neighbor. There are plenty of organizations that run on the work of volunteers and doing it as a group is great fun.

Donate. So, with all that money you are saving from not buying gifts, why not find some causes worth supporting? One of my favorites is Heifer International (last year I gave a goat in the name of my nephews and nieces) but there are other great causes as well such as not for profit arts organizations which provide for the community year round.

Now, you may be saying to yourself, "But my kid/friend/parent/significant other is expecting a gift! Why mess up his or her Christmas?"

Well, first, I'm not saying don't give gifts. I think we should give gifts, but be more conscientious about our gift giving.

Second, expectations can be altered. As my family of origin started to grow we agreed that buying a gift for everyone just wasn't practical, so we agreed on a gift exchange with a limit on how much we could spend on the gift put in the exchange ($10). Part of the fun became finding interesting gifts under that limit that we thought would be of interest to our family.

Third, ask yourself what really made Christmases past meaningful and focus on those things. I'm betting that on reflection most people won't list gifts among those things. Though I really, really loved this big box of legos I got when I was 9. Gosh, I loved those legos. But, really, what made those legos really fun was playing with them with my brother and my friends.

So, please, have yourself a merry little Christmas! Let's set out to enjoy the season.

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The term "moral hazard" has been bandied about much in the news of late and, if you haven't been hiding under a rock for the last two weeks, you'll know why. "Moral hazard" refers to economists' fears that an overly generous bailout of beleaguered financial institutions will lead to riskier behavior of other institutions in the future because they'll figure "if things go bad Washington will bail us out."

I know this is all very serious, but the term just makes me giggle. It's like we're playing golf on an ethical green and my ball just happens to land in the "moral hazard."

"Moral hazard" could aptly be applied to some Christian's conception of God's grace. The idea goes like this: I sin, I go to God, I ask for forgiveness, God forgives me, I go back out and do whatever I want. Lather, rinse, repeat. The concept perverts a simple truth about God, that God is merciful.

But this is what Dietrich Bonhoeffer would have called "cheap grace," that is forgiveness without discipleship. He warns in his book the Cost of Discipleship, which he wrote under the shadow of the Nazi regime, that the church was facing a crisis of increased secularization which cheapened its teachings by making its sacraments of baptism and communion perfunctory rites that required no real contrition, no real repentance, no real sense of belonging to Christ. As such the church became simply a place to have your children baptized, celebrate weddings, give rites for the dead, and, oh yeah, if you felt bad about something you'd done, you could go there to be absolved.

This, to my way of thinking, is a real "moral hazard."

To be clear, I do believe that God's grace is abundant and free. That it goes before us to make a way and welcomes us home. But I also believe that when we access this grace it is transformative. When we treat God's grace so cheaply it shows that we are not grateful.

This is not a new problem. It is not a modern issue. This is the same issue which the prophet Micah addressed when he wrote:

"With what shall I come before the Lord and bow down before the exalted God? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousand rivers of oil? Shall I offer my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God."

May you know grace in your life and may you respond in grace.

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Recently I was asked by a colleague to describe my process of how I prepare to preach. A lot of people have asked me this and I thought I might let you in on some trade secrets with the hope it might help you in relating to scripture.

First of all I see my role as a preacher is to be a scout, an explorer. I live my life out on the spiritual edge and bring back weekly reports. If I'm not pushing the boundaries I'm not doing my job.

I start working on a sermon about 8-10 weeks ahead. I pray over the scriptures for the day. Find what piques my interest or aggravates me or even angers me, and then focus on that passage or sentence or word. It's the grain of sand in the oyster that makes the pearl. I preach toward my own salvation.

I start working on an outline and then attune myself to all I hear and see around me and start plugging in examples from the world around me - news, magazine articles, blogs, television, movies, conversations - everything is grist for the mill.

I bounce ideas of colleagues in text study groups. I belong to two, one that meets weekly and one that meets twice a month. This is invaluable because they often point out flaws or gaps in my thoughts or resources I should look at.

I draft the sermon, still in outline form, the week ahead, plugging in and moving around pieces and throwing out bits that distract from the main point. I want the sermon to be able to be expressed in one big idea; one simple, easy to carry, take home sentence. If an 8 year old of average intelligence can't get that basic thesis I've probably failed.

I prayerfully read over the outline in quiet solitude Sunday morning before I get bombarded by everyone, then I throw the outline away.

I pray with my liturgist and give myself over to the worshipping community. I try not to think about the sermon after this point until I preach. Often there are little changes in the sermon based on what I hear in the prayers of the community.

I pray this prayer before I start any sermon - "Eternal God, be as the farmer and our hearts the earth. Open up our hard hearts with your plow called 'truth' and plant there within the seed which is your Word. And over time, over seasons of sun and rain and frost and snow, may our hearts bear forth a harvest of your love. Amen." Why? Because I always do it, that's why. It's important for me to have something that grounds me before I launch into the sermon and this prayer has proven to be it over the years.

I preach.

I try to maintain eye contact.

I try to have no notes. Occasionally, if there is a long passage or poem or quote I want to make sure to quote directly, I will have that with me, but that is rare.

I move and try to use the space to help tell the sermon. Often if I making a distinction I will physically make one space represent one person, area, idea, way of being, and another the counter-example. For example: if I'm preaching on Judah and Israel I might make the left part of the sanctuary represent Judah, and the right represent Israel.

I have a conversation. If I ask questions I try not to make them rhetorical questions but actually include and incorporate the congregation into the sermon.

I have fun. If I'm not enjoying the sermon you probably aren't either.

I debrief with someone I trust, usually my kids. I ask what they heard, what they saw. I ask them to summarize the sermon for me.

Obviously this process means I'm working on 8-10 sermons at the same time. That's how I roll. As of the middle of August I'm just starting to look at November and I've got my topics picked through the end of October. This can be disconcerting for some people but it's exhilarating for me.

So, that's how I prepare. Now you know.

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I just purchased a new house or, rather, a new mortgage. I tell my kids that I own 3% of this house and it's whatever 3% I'm in, so if you want to be in the house that we own, you have to stay within the same 45 square feet that I'm in.

Packing and unpacking, as anyone who moves can tell you, is a real spiritual experience. You pick up hundreds of objects - from teaspoons to sofas, from toothbrushes to a ceramic spoonrest made by your son - and you have to ask yourself, each time you pick up an object, "Do I keep this? Do I give it away? Do I throw it away? Does this thing have a place in my life? Do I value it?"

More often than not a kind of ownership inertia sets in. "I've moved this object for the last four moves so I might as well move it again." But I tried this time to be really intentional about what I moved and why. A new house means a new opportunity to organize my life. It's both daunting and exhilarating.

As I was moving into my new abode (with many thanks to those people out there who helped me move) a scripture came to me over and over again in a way I'd never heard it before. In Revelation 21 as the nations enter the New Jerusalem, which has descended pristine and pure from the sky, the writer mentions that "nothing unclean will enter it." That it will always remain pristine and pure. And I want my new house to be like that. Oh, how I long for it to be like that.

But I already know, as much as I want to, it will not be so. There will be mud and there will be messes. There will be clutter and there will be chaos. In spite of my best intentions, my house will not be spotless. And, eventually, like the way of all flesh it will pass away, by cataclysm or natural decay. I was reminded of that too when I signed my insurance papers.

That said, I don't think it's a bad impulse to be mindful of what we bring into our houses. The things we keep, the stuff we store, say much about us. To paraphrase the recently deceased comedian, George Carlin, what is a house if it's not a place for our stuff? And the stuff we keep says as much about us as the stuff we leave behind.

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