John Meunier

Am I too fat to be a pastor?

First, why this question is relevant: After four months out of the pulpit, I have been in touch with District Superindendents. If there is a church in need of a part-time pastor, I would like to be considered.

Should the fact that I weigh 260 pounds at 6 feet tall keep me from the pulpit?

A pastor is supposed to be a model of Christian conduct and life. He or she needs to show discipline and honor God in all he or she does. Clearly, over eating and failing to exercise are not good stewardship of this body God has given me. Don’t I rob my family of money for other needs and rob the hungry by shoving another Quarter Pounder down my throat? Don’t I threaten to cut short the ministry I might do by damaging this body? Surely, all that calls into question my spiritual fitness and maturity.

Of course, I might offer counter arguments. My compulsive eating is part of who I am. I’ve fought it my entire adult life with little success. It is hard to find time to exercise. My flat feet make things such as running painful. Eating is not something I can’t just stop doing. It is necessary to live. If God did not want me to eat, why did he make food taste so good?

In the end, these are excuses. Those who supervise my ministry would have every right to call me to account if I tried to offer them. This body does not belong to me. I use it on behalf of God. What kind of sermon must I preach when I walk down the street?

I am a sinner. I need to repent. Thanks be to God for his mercy. Thanks be to God that he can use sinners to do his work.

Whosoever thou art, whose heart is herein as my heart, give me thine hand! Come, and let us magnify the Lord together, and labour to promote his kingdom upon earth! Let us join hearts and hands in this blessed work, in striving to bring glory to God in the highest, by establishing peace and good-will among men, to the uttermost of our power!

- John Wesley, “On Laying the Foundation of the New Chapel, Near the City-Road, London“

These lines from near the end of Wesley’s most awkwardly titled sermon would be a fitting theme for the upcoming General Conference of United Methodists.

That is an idle dream, I fear. Even now, many of us are plotting strategies and planning to deploy power. Rival camps seek out the weaknesses in their foes and talk amongst themselves in private and in public of victory and battle. They stir up fear and anger within their tribes to gird themselves for conflict. They smear on the warpaint of self-righteousness and call it humility.

Our hearts are quite often not with Mr. Wesley’s heart. As he writes:

Are you an happy partaker of this scriptural, this truly primitive, religion? Are you a witness of the religion of love? Are you a lover of God and all mankind? Does your heart glow with gratitude to the Giver of every good and perfect gift, the Father of the spirit flesh, who giveth you life, and breath, and all things; who hath given you his Son, his only Son, that you “might not perish, but have everlasting life?” Is your soul warm with benevolence to all mankind? Do you long to have all men virtuous and happy? And does the constant tenor of your life and conversation bear witness of this? Do you “love, not in word” only, “but in deed and in truth?” Do you persevere in the “work of faith, and the labour of Love?” Do you “walk in love, as Christ also loved us, and gave himself for us?” Do you, as you have time, “do good unto all men;” and in as high a degree as you are able? Whosoever thus “doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother.”

Do we love God?

Not, do we have kind of a high regard for God? Would we recommend him to our friends? Would we write him a nice recommendation letter if he were looking for a better job?

For the love of God is this, that we obey his commandments. And his commandments are not burdensome, for whatever is born of God conquers the world. And this is the victory that conquers the world, our faith. (1 John 5:3-4, NRSV)

The very first step of scriptural religion – as Wesley would call it – is to love God. But it is often hard for us to do that. Sometimes we do not understand what it is God wants of us. Sometimes we do not trust the Bible or church tradition to be guides. Sometimes we are faced with questions that seem outside the boundaries of all our theological categories.

But sometimes it is not really any of this. Sometimes we just don’t want to love God if it means obeying. If it means getting down in Gethsemane with Jesus and saying, “Not my will, but yours be done,” we take off running down the Mount of Olives.

I’ve done it. Maybe you have, too.

This is my dream General Conference for the next two sessions. Neither would pass any legislation other than budgets and other items necessary to keep the general church running. Both would be dedicated to two questions: What should we teach? How should we teach it?

The agenda in 2012 would be simple: What does it mean to love God? The agenda in 2016 would be its pair: What does it mean to love our neighbor?

I know this is unrealistic and demonstrates why I have no business being a bishop or responsible authority in the UMC. It is nonetheless my vision.

When you think of something abstract you are more inclined to use words from the start, and unless you make a conscious effort to prevent it, the existing dialect will come rushing in and do the job for you, at the expense of blurring or even changing your meaning.

George Orwell’s brilliant essay “Politics and the English Language” is not about the use of church words, but I think about it frequently when I am bogged down in the odd word world of the church.

Orwell did not say we should never use Latinate words, but he did argue that old Saxon words were more homey and solid.

In the church, of course, we love our Latinate constructions. We would be nearly speechless if they were taken from us. But it is often these very words that rob the people who hear us of any chance to actually know what we are trying to say.

Words such as “salvation” and “justfication” are Sunday-only words for most people. As a result, we can all mouth the words without knowing if we all mean the same thing.

If this is the case, what can we do? Well, Mr. Orwell might suggest digging up some more homey words and putting the churchy ones back in their sacred cases. Here are some ideas:

To my ear, at least, the more Germanic words are not so obscure of in need of interpretation. Of course, some of my choices may miss important meanings in some of the Latinate words – or their Greek and Hebrew originals.

And, of course, I do not really expect people to drop the ancient words. There is value in them. But it is interesting to consider the way new words cut through the fog that can hide the meaning of the churchy words.

What do you think? Would people stumble less if we used different words?

Can you think of better Germanic substitutes than mine?

A man on the Christian radio station today was telling a woman in a troubled marriage about the way that Jesus can take the hurt and heartache out of her life.

He was saying that Jesus can change our feelings.

This bothered me. I don’t believe religion is about feelings. I don’t think Jesus came to give us certain feelings, and I don’t think he takes away feelings.

I believe the Holy Spirit can guide us and cleanse in ways that allow us to live in peace with one another, true peace. But I do not believe our feelings are the focus of the Holy Spirit’s work. I can live in peace with you – or love you – even if my feelings at the moment are bruised or outraged.

But maybe I am wrong about this.

What do you think?

Are there places in Scripture where Jesus talks about changing our feelings?

James Logan in his book How Great a Flame! sketches out what he calls the Wesleyan Evangelical Pattern. In it, he connects theological concepts with practices, experiences, and structures.

I like the table because it provides a sense of relationships among the various pieces of our Methodist inheritance. It also helps us to capture some important observations. Logan argues, for instance, that the primary location for experiencing Justifying Grace is not the preaching service, but the small group class meeting.

If that is so, it does make me wonder about the kind of preaching that should predominate at the preaching service, which has a special connection to the movements of Prevenient Grace in the table above.

For 21st Century Wesleyans, another question to ask is which of the cells and rows in the table need to be erased and filled in with different words and ideas.

The theological row should remain untouched. That is the foundation of the whole pattern. But the other nine boxes are worth talking about.

For instance, I find compelling the Wesleyan conception of the experience of healing from a diseased will, but are there other ways we might describe or understand the movement from being under Prevenient Grace to Justifying Grace?

Are there other practices we might adopt? Are there other structures?

Bishop Willimon writes about the tornadoes that ripped through Alabama this week.

When Wesley determined to do “that vile thing” and engage in open-air preaching in 1739, the eighteenth century Evangelical Revival was already well underway. … John Wesley did not originate the Evangelical Revival.

- James Logan, How Great a Flame!, pp. 27-28

James Logan’s book is a brief but powerful study of the Wesleyan revival and how it relates to our day and place.

When I read the quote above last night, it caught my attention. Something blindingly obvious struck me between the eyes. Wesley’s revival was an evangelical revival. Its evangelical nature gave it life and shaped the significance of all its parts.

For instance, it is not uncommon today to hear United Methodists invoke Wesley’s name when speaking about small groups. “John Wesley had small groups and we have small groups, too,” we say. But the reason why our small groups often seem so flaccid is that we have forgotten that Wesley’s were small groups organized out of evangelical convictions and for evangelical purposes.

The groups existed to guide and nurture Christians toward justification and sanctification. This was not an incidental benefit of the groups. It was the reason they existed.

By comparison, our small groups are often created to “build community” or for some other good but not intentionally evangelical purpose.

Of course, this is a blindingly obvious point, but it is hard won for me.

Christian discourse these days seems to be dominated by people who are fleeing – they often say recovering from – evangelical religion. This has not been my path. I came to faith from secular liberalism. I came to it through Protestant liberalism. I had no idea Methodism was a historically evangelical faith until I started reading John Wesley’s sermons for myself.

So, it is helpful to learn that the first insight about the Wesleyan revival is not that Wesley was a great organizer or that laity played an important role. The first important insight is that the revival was evangelical through and through.

In his “A Plain Account of the People Called Methodists” Wesley writes the history of the movement. It all started, he wrote, when he and his brother set out to preach what they understood to be the true nature of the Christian religion.

First, that true religion was a deep inward change not a matter of external behaviors or even proper beliefs.

Second, that the only way to this religion was repentance and faith in Jesus Christ.

Third, that all who have such faith are freely justified by grace.

Fourth, that being pardoned we get a taste of heaven to come and are made able to turn back sin and fear and live into holiness and happiness.

This is Wesley’s version of the message that started what would become the Methodist movement. It does not say everything there is to say about Wesleyan theology, but it lays out the basic evangelical convictions at the root of Methodism.

As we United Methodists search for structures and systems to bring new vigor, new life, and new vitality to our connection, we need to remember what gave those structure their life in the first place. We need to remember that we are evangelical.

Jen Unger Kroc shares a powerful reflection about her encounter with covenant discipleship groups. She writes about why she got involved, what the experience has been like, and how it has affected her.

My pastor asked me to join a conversation about discipleship, and to lead a discipleship-focused ministry.

I barely knew how to articulate any difference between “discipleship” and “being a good church member”. I showed up every Sunday, sang in the choir, did my share of church work and went to study groups. Wasn’t that the point? Wasn’t I doing all the right things? …And yet. When I heard others speak of the greater mission of the church, the transformation of the world, I could feel something deep within me respond. Sometimes, that something squirmed in discomfort. Sometimes it leapt for joy. Always it reminded me that I was missing something – a deeper path. Discipleship. An intentional, disciplined (disciplined? me? did you see my list of faults?) living out of the faith that I could at that time only barely speak of.

A deep breath. Sleepless nights. Prayer and reading, and hard workouts to burn off the nervousness, and long walks to clear my head of the circling swirling fears. Deciding to claim and cling to God’s promise not to leave me alone – and yes, I will jump off that cliff, I will walk into that fire, I will grab hold of that snake’s tail, with God’s help and my pastor’s support, I will begin and I will lead a discipleship group.

It is worth a couple minutes of your time. Make sure to share it with pastors and laity at your church who might be asking the question “Is covenant discipleship for me?”

* Photo source file: Link.

Adam Hamilton‘s book Unleashing the Word is a glimpse inside the mind and process of one of the most influential preachers in the United Methodist Church. As a part-time pastor eager to improve my preaching, I bought it a couple years ago and read it.

It had some great ideas.

The only problem was that many of them made little practical sense in my setting. For instance, my “worship team” was me and the business woman who had been playing organ for the church since she was a teenager. We lived 45 minutes apart and both had full-time jobs during the work week. Our worship planning involved e-mails exchanged during the week and conversations before and after church on Sunday. We had no team, no paid staff, and no budget to speak of.

The example comes to mind as I read this week that Hamilton, 76 pastors from the largest UMC churches, and 13 bishops have gathered to talk about ways to implement the ideas in the Call to Action report.

Here is what I long for from this: Some efforts at translation.

The pastors at the largest United Methodist congregations appear to have a real desire to use what they have learned and what has worked in their contexts to help other congregations. They host seminars and create resources. This is all great.

But how many of the processes and strategies that work for a church of 2,000 or 13,000 members scale down to a church of 500 or 200 or 100 members? How do you do things when you don’t have enough paid staff to write an organization chart? If you don’t have the space or budget to stage concert-quality multimedia shows is it best not to try at all? Or can you do it small and still do it well enough?

Every megachurch was once a smaller church. They once knew how to do things at a smaller scale. Tell us about that. It is what most of the congregations in the UMC are living. Don’t teach us what you have to be a top 100 church to do. Show us how church number 12,000 can do better.

After reading Kevin Watson’s recent posts about small groups, I found myself once again opening up the Call to Action documents to investigate their treatment of small groups.

And I was reminded why reading the Call to Actions documents is bad for my soul.

Here is my simple challenge for the bishops and other leaders of the denomination. I’d like anyone using this report as a catalyst for change in the UMC to answer the following questions:

1) What is factor analysis?

2) What is the difference between confirmatory factor analysis and exploratory factor analysis?

3) What is an eigenvalue? What is a scree plot?

4) What is multiple linear regression analysis?

5) What is multicollinearity?

6) Can a correlation prove causation?

7) What does the term “statistically significant” mean?

Does a person have to be a statistical expert to use statistical data? No. But it helps to understand the basics – which I’m pretty certain are not covered in seminary.

This is made worse when the use of the term “drivers” in the Towers Watson document indicates that the people who wrote the report do not know the answer to question 6. (Or worse, they know and do not care.)

The way most people speak about the CTA data is almost idolatrous. It is as if the data in the report are magical totems that provide solutions to our problems. What they actually provide – as far as I can tell – is the authority of technical mastery. The data and the numbers sound impressive, especially to those who do not know much about statistics. They grant the leaders of the church authority that they seem not to have based on their position. (This may explain why the Call to Action report itself is nearly devoid of theological content. Statistics, not theology, are the currency of credibility in our culture.)

We as a denomination do not need statistical hocus pocus to tell us that getting people engaged in real small groups is good. We do not need Towers Watson to remind us that effective lay leadership is important to having a healthy church. There is not a single “aha” moment in the Call to Action data. (I’d love to hear any finding or suggestion of this process that came a surprise to the people who have been guiding it.)

The report’s primary usefulness in practice has been rhetorical. It allows leaders of the denomination to point to the “the numbers” and say they demand we do such and so. The fact that we must manufacture authority in this manner is a sad commentary on the state of things.

So, again, I am left to ask why we place our faith in the false god of statistical analysis? Our theological heritage and resources are more than ample enough for the moment we face. Our Book of Discipline already has in it procedures and processes to do nearly everything that people are saying we need to do.

What we appear to lack is the zeal necessary to do what in private conversations people say must be done. We shy away because it will involve carrying a cross. We want cover, and we do not have faith in theological cover. Saying “God calls us to do this,” will not cut it. Statistics, now those we can trust.

There was a man named John Wesley who discovered everything the Call to Action had to hire consultants to learn. You need vital preaching and personal engagement to make disciples. You need to cultivate lay leaders and deploy them broadly. You need to provide worship that is vital and powerful. You need to have mission drive your structures. You need accountability. You need to pay attention to fruit.

How sad for Mr. Wesley that he did not have a statistical report to wave in front of the people who wanted to throw rocks at him and burn down the Methodist preaching houses. If he’d only had that kind of authority at his side, think of what he might have done!