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Category: Frustrated Preacher

  • I Need Some Air

    Smothered, suppressed, gasping for breath – these are the experiences last week of a panic-attack prone and claustrophobic retired pastor. Free from scorn of church members and responsible only to Christ, I vowed I would be the social justice advocate I’ve always felt called to be. This week, though, I found my spirit depleted.

    First, it was targeted political killings with grand wishes for more. This coming from the land of Lake Woebegone of Prairie Home Companion fame, of the land of 10,000 lakes with even more kind and cooperative people! Then it was 50 + starving people per day shot to death trying to get food in order to live. Then it was the shutdown of the dedicated line to LGBTQIA+ youth in the federal 988 suicide hotline. Then it was the Supreme Court’s permission to make it illegal for trans youth to receive gender-affirming care. Then it was the temptation to kill more people with bigger bombs in another Mideast war. And, again, another disheartened crisis manager, wondering how many more beautiful young people are going to decide it is too hard to breathe in this world and decide to shut down their life.

    As my parents used to say, “I need some air”, for it was “too close in here”. They would solve the problem by opening a window. My opening of a window this week was to distract myself from all that was weighing heavy on me. So I swept a floor, unloaded a dishwasher, and sewed some bags for missions. I could breath more easily, but I needed more windows open, more air.

    I remembered a recent radio interview of a singer who said that music was received at a frequency that transcended language. I also remembered Romans 8:26, “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness, for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.” The Spirit, I thought, that breathed life into me and the world, the Spirit that breathed life into Christ’s followers, this Spirit could give me some space so that I could breath. This Spirit could give me some air.

    The poem of Mary Oliver once again spoke to me,

    “… Finally, I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
    And gave it up. And took my old body
    and went out into the morning,
    and sang”.

    And so I turned on Spotify and sang along when I could. I listened and sang to Holly Near songs I hadn’t for 35 years, like “We are a gentle, angry people, and we are singing, singing for our lives.” Where before I was singing it for other people who were singing for their lives, this week I was singing for my life. I also sang with Holly, “We will have peace. We will, because we must …”

    For me, and many others, the recent events and proclamations and actions are more than simple worries. They are threats to our safety and existence. Their cruelty slices to the heart. They are panic-worthy. Yet, as people of faith, let us not allow them to smother us into silence. We must not let them block the frequency of song. No one, no thing, can prevent the Spirit from interceding on our behalf.

    We need to open a window and give ourselves some breathing space. Then we can drink of the Spirit that helps us in our weakness and intercedes for us. Thus bolstered, we can sing through the worries, spreading salve to our souls and offering peace to a weary world.

  • Sermons I Would Have Preached Had I Been Brave Enough – Intro

    Since I am new at this blogging thing and I don’t see the article I wrote and posted about a week ago, I am trying again. If you are seeing this for a second time, please forgive me.

         I served as a pastor in the Iowa Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church beginning in 1990 and retiring in 2024. In that time I was appointed to two different ecumenical parishes of the Presbyterian Church, U.S.A. and the United Methodist Church, as solo pastor to small town and rural churches, as associate pastor in large urban (for Iowa) churches and as a nursing home chaplain. Except for the nine total years as associate pastor, I was in the pulpit every Sunday, meaning writing a lectionary-based sermon every week.

         In my ministry, I often felt restricted in my prophetic role and found it could conflict with my pastoral role. The adage that a preacher was to “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable” was mostly not received well in my churches. I found that in all of my ministry settings, the people were unknowingly indoctrinated in civil religion and to equate militarism with patriotism and patriotism with Christianity. Also, even though the entire time I was in ministry, my denomination was embroiled in controversy regarding the role and acceptance of LGBTQIA+ folx, it wasn’t until 9 years prior to my retirement that I was appointed to a church willing to explore becoming a Reconciling Congregation. In my last appointment as solo pastor I was emboldened to pursue social justice. Yet… yet…the few times bringing up the pursuit of peace, wearing masks during a pandemic, or LGBTQIA+ inclusion brought criticism and caused me to hold back.

       I thought that if only I could be appointed to a progressive church I could preach how I really felt and what I really believed. Two different times when I was given the opportunity to request this, it was denied. Now that I am retired, I don’t have a desire to preach, at least regularly. I do feel a need to pursue social justice but don’t have a pulpit, or platform. It was suggested that I blog. Thus, this blog “Sermons I Would Have Written Had I Been Brave Enough.” I know that reading sermons can be dull, so if I find few or no readers, that is OK. I also anticipate that “sermon” will be a loose term. It may be more of an essay that is not based on a particular Biblical passage nor formatted like a typical sermon of mine. Perhaps it will be some creative writing on observations in nature that I occasionally write. Also, I have found in the first year of my retirement, I love writing when I am inspired to write, not because Sunday is coming around again. My posts may be inconsistent.

         I am hoping that my low technical aptitude will not get in the way of some therapeutic writing for me and some engagement from my readers. Here begins my sermonizing blogging.