Pastor’s Pen for August 2016

Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights.

If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to then, “Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,” and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.

– James 1:17, 2:15-17

Beloved of God,

Recent events lead me to reflect on the vibrant nature of our congregation. Oddly enough, one catalyst for my reflection is our family’s recent visit to a congregation I once served.  25 year ago I served as interim pastor at Church of the Mountains, a Presbyterian congregation on the Hoopa Reservation which had been established in the 19th century.  I had rich experiences with that community, with ecumenical partners, and with the Tribe.   As we snaked our way along the winding roads leading to Hoopa, I told my kids about the two majestic Redwood trees that flanked the sidewalk leading to the front doors of the church building, trees which had been planted at the congregation’s founding. I remem­bered their great trunks and the shade they cast in the late afternoon, bringing welcome relief during 100+ degree summer days.  What greeted us when we drove up was quite different.  The two great Redwoods had been cut down.  The adjacent parsonage with its shade trees were gone—the victim of a fire some years back.  The cross on the steeple had been removed. The white clapboard church building hadn’t seen paint in who knows how many years.  The front doors were chained and paddle locked shut.  The whole property seemed abandoned and forlorn.  It was downright depressing.  The cause of all this was obvious, when I thought about it:  that congregation had ceased to play a continuing, vital role within the Hoopa community.  So, when the last of the aging members died, the congregation’s mission—its reason for existing—died with them.

Contrast this with the scene at Peace during the last week of July:

  • A steady stream of blue-shirted servants of all ages—“LIVE GENEROUSLY” their shirts declare—with the full spectrum of experience to do God’s work with their hands, bend body and mind to the task building a Tiny House. Energy is high as hammers pound nails, saws cut boards, drills bite wood, and a house rises from the patio deck.[1]
  • Volunteers from within and beyond the congregation show up to be part of it. Neighbors out for walks stop to learn what’s going down. A West Seattle Blog photographer comes by to capture a moment.[2]
  • As evening comes, Twelfth Night Productions players fill the Fellowship Hall with costumes, music, and dance numbers—adding their melodies to the cacophony of hammers, drills, and skill saws.
  • Meanwhile, after Sunday worship the Fireside Room fills with Peace women gathering to celebrate the impending birth of Hannah and Steven’s first child. (The seventh child born to the congregation over the last 16 months.)
  • A journalist and photographer from King County’s Rainwise program stop by to capture images of our blooming raingarden and to interview congregation president Michael T and myself about the process and philosophy behind our congregation’s commitment to the project and to the Green Congregation movement.
  • The 75th Anniversary Task Force holds its first planning meeting for our congregation’s Diamond Jubilee in 2019.

There’s more I could add, but you get the picture. There is vitality here at Peace, flowing from our vital sense of mission!  We are indeed a Spirit blessed community!

When my friend and colleague Greg stopped by to see the build, he commented “This is the book of James in action.” (I.e. faith active in love.)  Martin Luther, zealous to prove that God’s grace trumps any works we might come up with, once famously called James the “epistle of straw.”  My response to Greg (and Luther): “We’re spinning straw into gold.” “

Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights.” AMEN!

Projects like building a Tiny House demand a lot of energy but they also unleash a lot of energy. And there’s another layer to the learning as well.  Building an 8 by 12 foot house is an invitation to imagine what this house will mean to the person for whom this small home will be an upgrade. And to imagine what it might mean for us whose lives are filled with stuff to pare down to the smallest configuration.  It invites us to ask, what is essential?  What do we really need?

In his letter to the Colossians, portions of which we’ve been hearing these summer Sundays, St. Paul speaks of earthly things and heavenly things. “Seek the things that are above, where Christ is,” he writes.  But it’s hard to seek the things that are above when you’re homeless and longing to have a roof over your head.  So, here’s the question: this Tiny House we’re building—is that an earthly thing or a heavenly thing?

The answer, of course, is YES.  It’s both.  Indeed, it’s something that’s bringing heaven and earth together. Beneath the enthusiasm for putting hammer to nail, the development of new skills, and the smell of freshly cut wood is the deep satisfaction of knowing that we are—quite literally—doing God’s work with our hands.  We’re building something substantial and real that will make a profound difference in someone’s life; and has already made a difference in our own.  We’ll wrap up the building project this first weekend in August, and celebrate after worship on Sunday, but the Tiny House will stick around for a little while as staff members from LIHI (Low Income Housing Institute) determine where this particular Tiny House will be placed. Come by and check it out.

Pastor Erik

[1] You can view a YouTube summary of the first four days here: https://youtu.be/KCtpmK3MVZE Courtesy of Anne Churchill.

[2] You can find the West Seattle Blog article here: http://westseattleblog.com/2016/07/west-seattle-scene-peace-lutheran-builds-a-tiny-house/

 

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