For a few years, I have had the site http://adamjcopeland.com, so this change shouldn’t bother too many people.

But, I’ve moved the site to wordpress.org from wordpress.com.  For most of you, this matters not.  But, for those of you who subscribed way back in the day to http://adamcopeland.wordpress.com before I bought http://adamjcopeland.com, you will now have a dead feed.  (Or if you bookmarked the old site, you need to change your bookmark.)

So, just go, right now to your RSS reader and confirm the http://adamjcopeland.com (or, more simply, the reader feed is http://adamjcopeland.com/feed )

If you’re totally lost as to what an RSS Reader is, watch the video below.  If you don’t read blogs with a reader, I recommend seriously considering one.  Wait…what are you doing.  Stop thinking.  Go, NOW, and make sure your feed is correct.  (And, thank you all for reading!)

Many of my seminary classmates are serving as associate pastors at larger churches. In such a position one gains valuable experience by learning from the other pastors on staff. But another perk — or problem, depending on your perspective — is that many associate pastors preach rather seldom. I have friends who preach once a month, others preach once every six weeks, and even a few preach only once every few months. As it would happen, several of the classmates I consider the most skilled pastors in my class, preach only ten or so times a year. I think that’s a crying shame, but their supervisors didn’t ask me.

As I studied for my M.Div. I took a yearlong internship in Scotland, where I preached a bunch. I’m now a solo pastor and preach pretty much every Sunday.

That sais, here’s the top ten things I learned after preaching 100 sermons (pretend the numbering is backwards from 10 to 1,even  though it isn’t due to formatting oddities) :

1. Context. Context. Context.
2. I really like preaching from the Old Testament.
3. I really dislike preaching from both the Old Testament and New Testament in one sermon (or, really, any two texts).
4. I wish I used my Biblical language skills more, but I don’t.
5. 1500-1800 words is usually about right.
6. I preach much better with a manuscript than with an outline (though, yes, many people are the opposite).
7. I’ve fallen into using about three sermon forms fairly regularly. For this congregation, I think my lack of creativity actually helps many hear the word.
8. Pretty much every manuscript, at some point has a line like, “looking deeper, there’s a more complex and challenging interpretation.” (Though I often cut it out of the draft.)
9. The size of the space in which I’m preaching, and number of people attending worship, really affects the rhetoric I use.
10. Context. Context. Context.

Ok, preachers out there. What have you learned or been struck by in your last 100 sermons?

image by Simon Cataudo

Let’s call it “Twitterphobia.”  Several times a week, in my usual perusal of weekly magazines, op-ed pieces, and current event commentary I run into a well-respected and well-researched writer bemoaning Twitter. “Twitter is dumbing down our teenagers,” they say. “Twitter is besieging our English majors.” “Twitter is poisoning our minds and starving us of the few intellectual merits we still have.”

Nice try, but Twitter ain’t the issue folks. In fact, I think Twitter and its 140-character messages is causing a flippin’ amazing surge in creative thinking. Let me explain.

1. Though some say 140 characters is a too short to say much of anything, I say the 140 character limit Twitter employs actually pushes us to write with precision, creativity, and pizzazz. Who knows, maybe its just the the fact that there’s a limit at all causes anyone with tenure to freak out over a perceived threat to intellectual freedom.  Mark Twain once apologized to an editor when sending in a new essay, “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to make this shorter.” Brevity is not the enemy.  Sometimes the attacks feel like a group of poets worrying long form poetry is at risk, but instead of writing good long form poetry they lash out against haikus.  I say simply: brevity is beautiful.
2. Sure, Twitter isn’t a platform for drawn-out arguments laced with careful caveats, but it’s not trying to be. What Twitter can do – really well, in fact – is point people in the direction of just that sort of work. Every day, I click on Internet links recommended by those I follow on Twitter and arrive at fantastic articles, sometimes very long, which I often then recommend to my followers on Twitter as well. In fact, the New York Times and Slate recently reported that some of their most-read articles over the past few years have been their longest. Twitter isn’t killing long-form journalism, rather, it might be resuscitating it after all.
3. It’s about connections, people, and not in the way your grandparents connected. I’m not an Internet culture guru, but I know this much: Twitter connects people in significant ways that can affect us in really powerful ways. Yes, the online community connects us in different ways than the café downtown, but let’s remember: different is not always bad, it’s just different. I get book recommendations from Twitter, celebrate Birthdays on Twitter, hear about the best new microbrews on Twitter, am tipped to breaking news on Twitter, and receive real meaningful support from friends I know well and friends I’ve never met on Twitter. To claim this sort of community is somehow less significant or less meaningful because of the platform is akin to saying every partnered couple that first met in a bar now emphasizes alcohol over each other.

So sure, technophobes and Twitter-ists, keep the punches coming. Yes, Twitter isn’t perfect, but neither is your prose. So, please, at least make your attacks informed. In fact, make them good and clear enough to be summarized in a punchy headline, disseminated on Twitter, and affect the hundreds of helpful connections I’ve made on Twitter.

July 18, 2010

Uncomfortable Amos

Amos 8:1-12

I recently commiserated with a friend over a challenging experience we shared from our childhoods. I don’t remember quite how it came up, but somehow this friend and I got to talking about holidays, and specifically holiday meals. Maybe it was July 4th that brought it to mind, but when we started sharing about the big holidays growing up — Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter — we both said we looked forward to the tasty meals and good company. (But, that’s nothing special.) What did stick out, for both of us, was an experience of not quite being sure about a certain dinner guest.

You see, this friend and I grew up in household that invited, well, outsiders to holiday meals sometimes. Maybe it was the angry lady who lived next door and had no family around. Maybe it was the homeless guy from downtown. Maybe it was the person, that depending on whether he took his medications, you never quite knew what to expect. Both this friend and I felt torn about these memories. We loved what our families were doing by opening our house to others, and sharing God’s love in the process. But we also realized, with just a bit of regret, that the presence of this other person affected the feel of the holiday. We couldn’t quite just kick back and relax with only family present, there was a guest around, usually one with some rather odd things to say.

At the end of the conversation, my friend and I decided we really were grateful for these experiences and really glad our families reached out, but when I read today’s text from Amos, I instantly relapsed and thought, “I’m so glad my parents didn’t invite this guy to dinner.”

Amos would be an absolutely horrible dinner guest. I’m sure he’d talk about those taboo subjects: politics, religion, and sex. But he’d be even worse than that. Pretty much pick any controversial issue, and Amos not only expounds on the hundreds of ways you’re off base. Heck, he yells across the table: “You’re wrong, and God is going to get you!” At least, that’s what he does in these verses today.

Can you believe this guy? First he says the Lord can’t stand the state of religion and that songs of praise will end up becoming wails of despair.

Next, Amos talks about economic justice and the poor. He doesn’t say you should give more to charity or work harder for social justice, but just indicts the people for their shameful practices of wanting to make the biggest profit, to work all the time, to disregard the state of another just for a pair of nice sandals.

Then, as if that isn’t enough, Amos says the Lord declares, i will make your feasts into mourning, and all your songs into lamentation — and get this — I will bring sackcloth on all loins, and baldness on every head. I don’t know about manners at your house, but at mine, that sort of dinner table conversation is just completely unacceptable (and not just because both my grandfathers were bald).

Amos certainly would not fit in at any of our dinner tables, and he might be ok with that. In fact, he didn’t much fit in back in the day when he was writing either. Amos was one of those prophets that made people mad. God called him to get under people’s skin, to ruffle their feathers. Israel had become so powerful and so pompous, there wasn’t anything to do but tell it like it was. The Lord saw the poor being trampled by the rich, the religious neglecting their duties, and the society as a whole not caring for one another. So God sent Amos to speak to the hard truth: they were in deep trouble.

Today, we could read Amos and say, “Whew, I’m glad Amos told those Israelites what was up. It sure did sound like things were pretty bad back then.” But the problem with not having uncomfortable Amos over for dinner, is we just skip the uncomfortable facts of our lives. If we’re honest, we actually need a little Amos in our lives. So, what might Amos say to us today?

Amos harped on religion — and, if we’re honest, we’d probably be an easy target there. Amos argued that the religious leaders had lost the point, that religion had become more about the overdone festivals than actually worshipping the Lord. I’m afraid we are guilty of the same whenever we put ourselves before our worship, when we draw divisions in the body of Christ rather than see our common bonds in the Spirit. Whenever we get our way of worshiping God confused with God Godself, we should hear the voice of Amos calling us to repent.

Amos also rebuked his society for failing to care for the poor. Truth be told, Amos wouldn’t be too keen on our ways of caring either. Over the past few years, the rich have been getting richer and the poor are getting poorer. In Minnesota, with its huge budget problems, cuts to services unduly affect the poor among us. And, if we look at the world, the picture is even worse. Around the world, over a billion people are hungry and 16,000 children die a day from lack of food or malnutrition. Which might lead Amos to another one of his favorite topics: economic systems that give more power to the rich and focus more on fancy goods for the few than sustaining services to many. Oh, Amos, the great angry prophet of Israel, would have a field day with us today.

A pastor I’m familiar with in Iowa, when he set up his study at the church, decided not to put his diplomas or ordination certificate up on the wall when he moved in. Instead, he mounted a construction level. A contractor he once worked with gave it to him — it’s a pretty level, a Stanley antique of cherry and brass, and there’s that little bubble inside to say if something is level or not. And get this — the pastor mounted it on the wall so it sits about 1/8th of an inch off level.

That was intentional, of course, to remind him that his life (as with all our lives) is off balance. I think Amos would be pleased with that level. Amos points to the imbalance of our lives — of poverty and privilege, joys and sorrows, justice and mercy. Each of us, if we’re honest, would do well to remember that level too.

So, to help First Pres Hallock look at our balance, at how we are living up to God’s call in this place, the church session is asking folk to fill out a little survey. You should have received a survey and cover letter in this month’s newsletter, but we have some extras available in the hall as well. The session is going through a visioning process in which we’re considering where we are as a church. We’re wondering what we’re doing particularly well, what we could improve, and what we might emphasize down the line. Since, as Amos reminds us and that Iowa pastor reminds us, all of our levels are off, the session is being sure to ask around for help. Eventually, we’ll share the survey results and have a conversation with anyone who wants to come about where we are, and where God is taking us. So fill out a survey; Amos might be proud.

But, survey or not, one of the problems with preaching on Amos, is finding the good news. Usually, preachers can emphasize the sinful stuff for a while, and then say at the end, “It’s cool, though, God has your back. Grace abounds.” But that’s not really what today’s passage actually says. Instead, it’s all about judgement, God’s wrath, and the day of accounting. Even if you read it many times, you’ll be hard-pressed to find much of what we typically understand as grace.

This passage from Amos is not really about grace at all. It reminds me of a scene in a book I’m reading, Home by Marilynne Robinson. Home tells the story of a man returning home to his small town, and revisiting his troubled past. The man, Jack Boughton, grew up as wild child in a minister’s family of otherwise perfect manners. One day, back when Jack was young, Jack led his brothers and sisters to play in a field of disputed ownership. By rights, the kids thought the field belonged to their father who didn’t use it and instead, a neighbor had planted a crop of alfalfa in it without their father’s permission. Well, a baseball ended up in the field, and before they knew it, the kids were playing in the alfalfa and ended up destroying their neighbor’s crop.

Later that day, their father found out about the field. Robinson writes,

The slight satisfaction in their father’s face confirmed what [the children] dreaded, that he saw the opportunity to demonstrate Christian humility in such an unambiguous form that the neighbor could feel it only as rebuke. He said, “Of course you will have to apologize…you had better get it over with.”

So off the kids went to apologize. I love this scene because the father doesn’t yell at the kids or berate them or ground them, but instead, he says simply: “Of course you will have to apologize. You had better get it over with.”

Amos is like sort of like that. It’s not about passing out cheap grace, but about calling Israel — and us today — to an apology. Amos is about yelling at us across the dinner table with a list of where we’re missing the mark. Amos isn’t about doling out grace, but about truth-telling, and the call to amend our life because our current life isn’t pleasing to God.

So we end, not with a cheap word of grace, but with a word of invitation. An invitation to let Amos into our lives, to help us root out the injustice and see the inequalities, to help us make our churches do truly holy work, and focus us on good things for all, not just ourselves.

And maybe, the next time you’re having a meal, talk to those gathered as if Amos were there. You don’t have to talk just as he would — yelling at each other and hurling insults — but, take a moment, a meal, to reflect on the injustice of our lives. Amos, and God, would be pleased.

This post is not about General Assembly. Neither is it about Presbyterians, or even Christianity. Thank you, blog readers, for sticking with me through some heavy PC(USA) polity and politics. Instead, this post is about three things (which, I promise, has nothing at all to do with the fact that some sermons have three points.)

1. Living in Grand Forks, North Dakota has its perks — no, really, it does. For example, for eight months out of the year you don’t have to worry about ice cream melting in your trunk on the way home from the grocery store. Actually, in seriousness, I’ve found another.

I receiving a parking ticket a few weeks ago for parking on the street outside our apartment on day the city does road cleaning. Having lived there for a year and unaware of the Monday no parking policy, I called the city to complain. Before I could get an angry word out, the nice guy I spoke to said, “Well, we’ll be happy to forgive your ticket. As a courtesy, the city council has a policy to forgive any questionable first time tickets, so let’s get this erased.” And in about a minute, we did.

2. You big city folks will not believe this next story. Yesterday I was working at the church in Hallock, Minn. and made a phone call. On accident, though, I switched the numbers and ended up calling the wrong house. About the same time I realized my mistake, I also realized I in fact knew the person at the wrong number. So we chatted for a while and actually set up a visit for the next day. Only in a small town do you have a five minute conversation with someone at a wrong number, then plan to get together the next day.

3. I’ve been playing in the Men’s Golf League in Hallock this summer — quite enjoyable. It’s an enormous contrast to my time playing two years ago in Scotland, most often on courses requiring fancy dress codes expecting the utmost manners possible. Let’s just say, the Hallock league is a nice breath of fresh air and I welcome the fact that, more often than not, folks are talking during my drives and wearing jeans and T-shirts. I’m loving it.

No matter what you wear or how fancy your clubs, golf is a game of leveling. When you’re looking over a three foot putt, you either make it or you don’t, and whether your shirt is tucked in or belts a “golf belt” doesn’t matter one bit.  If for some reason you boast in your game, you’ve got to prove it week in week out.

Ok, that is all.  No promises re the topic of the next post, but, probably just like you, I’m contemplating a break from Presbytery polity.  I promise not to write on the weather, though…but now that I think of it, it is absolutely beautiful out there today

image by Henrique Kwong

And Friday night, at the General Assembly, the commissioners were tired, the energy level was low, and the most controversial items had already been considered. So, first a few funny recollections from the week:

• The Stated Clerk, Gradye Parson, has a suave-looking John Calvin bobble-head on his desk. I covet.
• Moderator Cynthia Bolbach’s fun sense of humor kept the assembly in good spirits throughout the week. Perhaps her best crack cams during the moderator election when she, and elder said, “Ministers going on tangents…who knew?”
• The chairs in the assembly hall, when scooted back or forth, sound like vuvuzelas. It’s hilarious.

More seriously, my read of the assembly is that it was a perfectly fine one, one that wrestled with tough issues conscientiously and sought the Spirit in its work. Many hugely important changes are proposed to the PC(USA) constitution, including the addition of the Belhar Confession to our Book of Confessions.

But, as I prepare to go back home, I’m also struck with a questioning sense about whether this formal, costly, somewhat unwieldy church structure is the most faithful way of conducting business at a national level. At 27, I’m too young to be a hardened cynic, but many times this week I thought, after a beautiful policy statement or theological document passed the assembly, “How much did we spend per word to make that document? And, how many Presbyterians – let alone others – will ever read it?” When I closed my eyes and listened to debate on the plenary floor, I wondered how much —really, how little— the basic way we govern ourselves has changed in fifty years.

Several folks, on both sides of theological divides, pointed out that if the rate of membership decline in the PC(USA) continues as it has in recent years, the PC(USA) will cease to exist in roughly 40 years. Sophisticated statisticians would surely add some complexity to that model, but even a simpleton can see we have a huge problem. So, I leave confused and saddened that the report of the committee on church growth and evangelism flew by so quickly, and with so little discussion.

Another systemic issue to raise my hackles this week was the fact that, in so many floor debates, we spoke to the surface-level of issues before us rather than to a deeper level, often the reason the issues were so controversial in the first place. For instance, our debate on sex and sexuality directly connected to many more pieces of business than the headline grabbers—ordination standards, marriage, and pension policies. But when such issues came up, we tended to argue in polity wonk language rather than actually talk about what was behind the arguments (e.g. the main motion and substitution motion regarding the General Assembly, Permanent Judicial Commission, the Bush case, and all the complexity). I’m all for our polity, but I’m also for truth telling.

This kills me at presbytery often as well, so maybe it’s just a bad Presbyterian habit: we argue over surface-level questions rather than converse about the real foundational issues underlying them that make the surface-level questions tricky in the first place. We are struck in a dualistic way of doing things – vote yes or no – one that gets us a “conclusion” when a majority votes, but really doesn’t solve a thing.

Next, just an observation without too much analysis: the Young Adult Advisory Delegates totally impressed us all this week, as usual. Our young people are extremely talented and fantastic church leaders. Also noteworthy is the fact that, on the big sexuality questions, they consistently voted more liberal than the assembly by MANY percentage points. If we don’t scare these youth away with our bickering, their minds don’t change, and they are somewhat representative of the young adults in the larger church, it’s difficult to imagine the hot-button sexuality questions not eventually turning more progressive (for want of a better word) in a few years’ time.

But here’s the thing, whether that scares you or excites you, it can lead us away from the point. I played a game with friends last night in which, before the evening assembly, we each chose key words for which to listen in the evening plenary. Each time that certain word or words were spoken, we took note, promising to donate a certain amount of money per word to our seminary. One of my friends listened for the phrase, “Jesus Christ.” Let’s just say she won’t be writing a big check.

So we continue the conversation. We continue our prayers that the Spirit might guide the church so that we might be more faithful, conduct our business more wisely, and make us good stewards of our gifts. General assemblies are our human attempt to do just that. I’m grateful God showed up, so grateful, but also I’m praying God’s got something new in mind real soon.

image by Erin Dunigan

An Explanation of the Procedural Questions on the Definition of Marriage at General Assembly

Way too early, Friday Morning at GA in Minneapolis….

I’m seeing lots of questions and concerns on Twitter about what happened last night at General Assembly. Folks might be confused some complex parliamentary procedure things went down, and it’s especially difficult to follow new motions when watching the live feed of GA online.

A quite accurate 140-character summary that caught on last night reads:

PCUSA marriage debate wrap-up: We don’t really feel like hashing this out right now, so meet back here in two years? YES.

In fact, I think that quick summary is a valid analysis, but for a few more than 140 characters, read on. I’m too exhausted to write in paragraphs, so I’ll just interrogate myself:

Q: Was that fair?

A: Yes. There’s no doubt in my mind the assembly acted in accordance to correct Robert’s Rules of Order.

Q: So why are some so angry?

A: Because folks were prepared to speak to the motion of the General Assembly Civil Union and Marriage Issues Committee to change the definition of marriage on our Book of Order to read between “to people” instead of “a man and a woman.” This change passed the committee by a vote of 34 to 18. People were prepared to speak to this particular motion of the committee, however the motion never came up.

Q: What do you mean, “it didn’t come up?” I thought you’ve posted before on the importance of “minority voice” within Robert’s Rules?

A: Indeed, but the assembly voted (348-324), in essence, not to go there – and rather to answer all pending items before the committee by affirming a tradition definition of marriage.

Q: Huh? Say that in another way.

A: The assembly never had a motion on the floor to change the definition of marriage. Instead, the question before the assembly essentially was, “should we have the discussion on changing the definition of marriage tonight or not?” I think this is what threw some people for a loop. They were all excited to get to speak for or against defining marriage “between two people” and instead they had to speak about whether to speak about it or not.

Q: Could the assembly vote today to reconsider and have the discussion?

A: Only if somebody changed the vote and called to reconsider. (My analysis: said person would have to be really organized and eloquent, and have some backup ready at several microphones because assemblies very rarely want to make more work for themselves.)

Q: So what do you think? Was what went down appropriate?

A: Technically yes. Perfectly. The rules were followed completely. But, I do think it’s unfortunate some feel like they didn’t have an opportunity to speak to what was on their heart – the not-quite-yet-proposed change in the definition of marriage. My guess is that such a debate would not have changed the assembly’s mind – I don’t think this assembly would have voted to change the definition of marriage even if they argued about it all night – but, they might have acted on a more moderate proposal they didn’t discuss which would have given an Authoritative Interpretation on our current constitution which would read:

Since several states have recognized that marriage is a fundamental right for all persons, and since the definition of marriage in the Directory for Worship can be interpreted as descriptive and therefore does not mandate that a marriage contract must be only between a man and a woman, the 219th General Assembly (2010) declares that in the states which authorize same-gender marriage, pastors may officiate at such marriages in the context of Christian worship.

The action of the assembly to answer “all pending items” with the traditional definition also meant they didn’t address this overture directly either.

Q: Wow. This all sounds so political and confusing. What’s up with that?

A: Well, yes, it is. I think of Winston Churchill who is said to have said, “Democracy is the worst form of government except for all those others that have been tried.” So I say: the way we do things ain’t always pretty, but it’s what we got.

UPDATE: Motion to reconsider failed 275-407, 40% – 60%.  The tweet quoted early in this post remains valid.

(Thanks for reading, see also my post: The Questions Coming Sunday Morning on The Outlook blog.)

Here’s a list of my PC(USA) General Assembly blog posts for The Presbyterian Outlook.

• Wrap Up & Pack Up
• A Fair Hearing? an explanation of the procedural questions on the definition of marriage at General Assembly.
• The Questions Coming Sunday Morning
• Contemplate This, a hodgepodge of opinion/analysis of Wednesday’s meeting.
• Social Media at General Assembly
• Committee Size Matters
• Lunch with the Vice Mod
• Reading the Tea Leaves of the Moderator Election
• The Family Reunion: For Good or for Ill
• Not GA-related, but germane:  How Twitter Makes Me a Better Pastor in a new and improved version) is at Working Preacher.org

I’ll put links to my work here. I also have a few other writing pieces that may come out next week to which I’ll link as well. So, apologies for the past week, but good things come to those who wait.  Also, for you non PC(USA) people, sorry for a week of very Presbyterian posts.  I’ll make it up to you at some point.

But if you are connected to or interested in the PC(USA) General Assembly: What would you like to see covered by the Presbyterian Outlook blogger?  What should I consider, discuss, debate, relate, rehash or refry?

Update: see my first (and pre-GA) post at the Outlook website here.