Rouge River Community Church

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

The River at 10.

Each year on our anniversary, my wife and I make a point of having a talk about our relationship. Pieces of what we've learned, how we are doing, hopes, dreams, favourite memories, all come together to form a beautiful mosaic of a date. Doing that on purpose matters to us, and it does make a difference.

The River is 10 years old. Our anniversary (birthday?) is being celebrated this Sunday, October 4th. I have been part of the River's journey for about one-third of its young life. I'd like to share a favourite memory, something I've learned about the River, and a dream.

Favourite Memory.

This is hard. In the little over three years I've been part of the River, so many wonderful things have happened. Last October, the church arranged 30 days of pastor appreciation for me and my family. What a blessing! Each day, we received a gift, and act of kindness, a service, a prayer, a meal-- something. Each morning we took an envelope from a box, and opened it to reveal that day's wonderful blessing. Thank you River. We felt loved and accepted and part of your lives, and you sure became an even bigger part of our lives.

Something I've Learned.

Time is a more valuable commodity than money. There is precious little of it available that can be called extra, but the people at the River consistently offer it up to God for the mission He has given us. Bless you for that.

A Dream.

I don't dream that the River will be 1000 or 10,000 people on a Sunday morning. I don't dream that we will have the greatest music worship team in the history of church. I don't dream that we will have millions of dollars in the bank account. I dream that we would choose to be passionate about God and the mission He has given us. Passionate for Him over the long-term. Passionate for community. Passionate for the other. I pray that apathy would never creep into our church family. I dream of a place where people can laugh and cry together, can serve and receive together, and journey through life as a community. The foundation for that to happen is passion. I choose to be excited and enthusiastic for the work of the River. We face serious challenges- we need more resources, especially time, money and people, to carry out God's mission.

Folks, we will grow tired. We will at times become discouraged. But we can never give up. We must firmly believe that God has given us a unique expression of His voice in this town- that if we do not do the things we are doing, who will? And we must fight the tiredness and discouragement with a firm conviction of God's love for us, our community, and His leading in the direction we are going. If we stay passionate, God will and can use us.

A final thought for those not at the River.

The River is committed to give rather than receive. We care more about the other, than serving ourselves. We do not market ourselves as the next great church fad or movement or whatever. We are not slick, we are not business like. We see success measured in faithfulness, not bums in the seats or dollars in the bank. If you are not part of the River, and this resonates with you, you need to come see what we are about.

I know the River is not the place for everyone, but it is the place for some. I believe God is calling some who are reading this today to come be part of the mission God has given to the River. You won't find fancy and attractive programs. You won't find a "CD quality" worship band. What you'll find is a lot of hard, worthwhile work. What you will find is a passion, not for ourselves, not for our suits and not for any 'silicon' smiles, but a passion for the other. It will be be challenging, and messy, and wonderful. You need to join with us. We need the help, and you know you need to make the change.

Peace.

Posted By Andre Lauzon At 10:18 AM • Comments (0) Trackbacks (0)

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Into the Storm

I recently watched a movie about the life of Winston Churchill during and just after the second world war. It was a fascinating biopic of one of the most eccentric and bull headed leaders of the twentieth century. I have been a Churchill fan since I first began to study history. He saw the coming conflict from as early as 1931, and spoke eloquently and often about Britain's need to arm.

The predominant spirit of the age, however, was one of appeasement. From Neville Chamberlain, to Joseph Kennedy (father of JFK, RFKand the recently deceased Edward Kennedy), to the other heads of the major allied countries, talk and compromise was considered the best tool to deal with Hitler's Nazi regime. Appeasement didn't work.

Eventually, Britain and France drew a line in the sand the length of the Polish border. When the Nazi's invaded Poland, The British and French declared war. Soon Poland, Belgium, the Netherlands, and France were under Hitler's control, and all of Great Britain was enduring nightly bombings. By the time the battle of Britain was under way, Chamberlain had been replaced by Churchill, and talk of appeasement gave way to a "never surrender" attitude.

Churchill was the right leader for the right time in history. In large part, his leadership helped to win the war. Then, a few months after the end of hostilities, Churchill's government was tossed out in a general election. Many observers of the day referred to Churchill as the saviour of the British people. His personal popularity was strong, yet he could not carry the day at the polls.

When it comes to leadership in the church, seasons and sentiments ebb and flow like the changing tides. If one's leadership is based on personal popularity and past accomplishments, no matter how great, then job security will always be elusive. Some leaders have a shelf-life. Others can lead effectively for decades. Just across the Atlantic ocean from Churchill was Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He died in office near the end of the war, during his fourth term. He too had accomplished great things for his country, yet his effectiveness did not wane. Many commentators of his era believed that FDR could have been re-elected as long as he had lived.

I don't know what the X factor was that made Roosevelt unbeatable and Churchill transitory. Personality, personal gifts and strengths, era, education, training, experiences, all play a part, but often there is an intangible- that elusive X factor.

Somehow in North America, the protestant church, especially the evangelical and fundamental streams of protestantism, regard leadership from a secular-political perspective. A pastor's term in office hangs on the whim of those with voting privileges in his church. This leads to the politicalization of the pastorate. How abhorrent! Basically, in this type of system, it is understood that the paid leadership is not to be trusted. The pastor is then forced to lead the people where they would go anyway. Is that leadership? If he or she does try to lead for change in a congregation, then it needs to be done in the form of a campaign.

I want more from the church experience than a new form of politics. I so appreciate the unity and gentleness evident at the River. When we replace church politics with real community, and the business model of leadership with something more soul-satisfying, we begin to comprehend the X factor.

Peace.

Posted By Andre Lauzon At 10:01 AM • Comments (0) Trackbacks (0)

Friday, September 18, 2009

Fantasy

A few years ago, my father-in-law hosted my family for a week of vacation in Florida. It was a seven day Disney extravaganza! Thanks Dad! I still remember my oldest son lamenting as we boarded the plane to go home, "I wish we could live at Disney World." Wouldn't it be nice? An ultra clean fantasy world, where the only thing to do is have fun. There are lots of people warming seats in churches all over North America wishing almost the same thing.

These church goers populate the pews to escape from their regular lives for an hour or two. They have found the real world too hard or painful, and look to church for a respite. I'm not talking about those who find restoration from a tough week in a service of worship and community, but rather those who treat church like a drug.

As with most addictions, escape from regular life plays a key and attractive role. The other complicating factor is that like with any drug, the addict needs to have more and more to get the same high, and then more and more just to feel normal. It happens like that in certain churches as well. Some folks get so caught up in the drug of the next great church program, or the next outreach event, or the next miracle service, they need more and more to get their fix. Pastors and other church leaders become spiritual pushers, the candy men (or women) who facilitate the next hit of Holy Spirit or Bible teaching. Sometimes I think for many in the attractional church, ekklesia is more about hype than koinonia.

Take those who live in the signs and wonders camp. They need a miracle every week, maybe every day, to feed their faith. If no one gets healed that Sunday, if miracles aren't happening regularly, then they come down from their spiritual high, and start questioning whether the Holy Spirit has removed His blessing from them, their church and especially their pastor. Or how about those evangelicals not from the charismatic camp? They need the next great sermon, the next belt-notching salvation, the next great small group meeting, week after week, day after day, or they come down from their spiritual mountaintop, and start pointing fingers at themselves, their church and especially their pastors. Signs or salvations, miracles or messages, evangelical Christianity has become focused on the floor show and the high of the service. When did Las Vegas become the ministry model? Meanwhile there are people without adequate food, shelter and clothing right in their midst. I am not saying these churches are uncaring, but rather ill-focused.

When I was pastoring in the Ottawa area, I attended a regular pastors' meeting that rotated from church to church. When I arrived for one particular meeting, I saw one of the lay leaders of the host church yelling at a homeless man who was sleeping in an alcove. This lay leader, a senior citizen of many years in that congregation, was threatening to call the police and have the man arrested. Eventually the homeless man collected his few belongings and wandered away. When I asked the lay leader about the man, he told me that the homeless were becoming an increasing problem in the church's neighbourhood. He didn't want them around the building because they made the church look bad. Wow. Wow. Wow. One anecdotal incident does not prove a point. Many of the same type can show a trend or inclination however.

For all its claims of evangelism and outreach, I still find the attractional model church inward oriented. Whether the attraction is preaching, programs or prophecy, it looks to me these churches attract already established Christians more than non-believers. At one point I pastored in an attractional model church. As I look back, some of our program hype got in the way of the Holy Spirit working in people's lives. I would rather be real and raw at the soul's ground level than be transported to 'spiritual' heights by flash and floor show. Or put the work in to transport others to those heights.

I have had a radical shift in how I view resource usage. In the attractional church I pastored, it became about erecting a building to expand programming- programming that was acceptable to the sterilized type of Christianity we were practicing. A flavour of the faith that was bland and superficial. I rather rent facilities and spend more of our time and money on people than upkeep. In an attractional church, numbers- people and giving- are goals. I would rather faithfulness in serving be the goal, trusting so-called results to God. I would rather be in a congregation that daughters new works every 125 people or so, than look to grow ever larger, so to run bigger and better programs.

So, our resources at the River go into finding furniture for new Canadians. We spend our time picking up and sorting food for the local food bank. We round up donations of new and used clothing and housewares for those in need. We have washers and dryers people can use for free. And in the midst of all this, we have built relationships with people and have earned the right to introduce them to Jesus. It means getting our hands dirty. It means going into homes that are not sanitized spiritually. It means getting the grime of real life all over our souls. And finding out that feeding somebody and helping them have decent clothes to wear is way more rewarding (not that that is the point) than meeting a fund-raising goal for new choir robes or for the coffee 'ministry'.

You can keep your polished worship bands and suited congregations; give me jeans and some heavy lifting any day. I don't want fantasy, I want real. It gives meaning to my salvation. I'm not just looking forward to heaven, which is sometimes portrayed as eternal Christian summer camp, but I have a purpose for today when I get out of bed, and that purpose is the other.

Peace.

Posted By Andre Lauzon At 10:47 AM • Comments (0) Trackbacks (0)

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Longing

I wish I could go back to my youth for just a day.

Today, I am missing that time of my life.

I am not sure why this melancholy mood has overtaken me.

Maybe its a normal part of mid-life (or later), or a deep desire to escape current problems and responsibilities.

Either way, I wish I could have one more day back there, back then.

I would lifeguard with Jason just one more time.

I would shoots hoops at the house near the Shell gas station with Tom and JD just one more time.

I would eat at Louis' - a Louis' special Pizza and poutine- and not worry about the calories or my ulcer.

I would play Euchre with my friends and drink too much Pepsi and laugh until my sides hurt and the pop came out my nose.

I would travel the streets of my hometown, not as they are now, but as I remember them.

I would visit my mother's grave and find it empty, the headstone blank.

Then I would go home- to the one on Gloucester Street- and visit with her.

We would sit on the front porch of the house, hidden behind the overgrown cedar bushes (trees?) as the cool of the summer evening descended and the stars came alive.

We would sit and talk, and I would hear the family stories again.

The 10 o'clock whistle would sound, and soon the time would waft away, like smoke on the wind.

Then I would go home- to the one I live in now.

Even after one day, I would miss my Ivory, and my boys, and would want the distance to close.

I would not trade my life now for my teenage years.

For time has clouded my memory to all but the good that was then.

So, I ask only for a timeless moment-

I wish I could go back to my youth for just a day.

Posted By Andre Lauzon At 8:12 AM • Comments (0) Trackbacks (0)

Friday, September 11, 2009

8 Years Later

Growing up, I remember my mother's generation talking about where they were when President Kennedy was assassinated. In my generation, the question, "Where were you?" is about September 11, 2001.

I was at the office. I was pastoring in a church near Ottawa at the time. It was before 9 o'clock in the morning, and the youth pastor and church secretary were just settling in to work when my sister called me. What was odd was that she never called me at work. She just told me to turn on the TV and let me go. I remember turning on our old donated 20 inch TV with the rabbit ears. It got like 3 channels- all of them badly. I called my co-workers over, telling them about my phone call. As we tuned in the "good" channel, we watched live video of thick black smoke billowing out of one of the towers of the World Trade Center.

We watched for a few minutes, trying to make sense of what we were seeing, along with the newscasters carrying the live coverage. Then those few more minutes passed, and we saw the second plane fly into the other tower, followed by a huge fireball. It was hard to comprehend. I was one of those that, pre-9-11, knew little or nothing of Al-Qaeda. We sure got an education in a hurry.

That Tuesday morning in 2001, I went home to care for my toddler for a couple of hours while my wife went to work. I sat there glued to the TV, while also looking at my child, feeling very unsure about his future. The phone rang all day, between congregants wanting to talk about what was happening, and family members feeling the need to check in every hour or so.

The day went by slowly for me, I remember. A third plane hitting the Pentagon, another down in a field in Pennsylvania. Rumors of other hijacked airliners. Large buildings being shut down all over North America. Planes being diverted from US arrivals to Canadian airports. The towers falling. The thick layers of dust covering New York City. President Bush, first in Florida, then Louisiana, then Nebraska, finally arriving back in Washington DC. Chaotic news conferences with Mayor Giuliani of New York. The speculation about how many people had died in the towers and on the planes and at the Pentagon.

I remember being outside that evening- a beautiful late summer night. My wife and I were playing with our son in the backyard. We lived close enough to the Ottawa airport that we would see planes quite often. That night, however, there were no planes in the sky. Just the stars. The whole village seemed eerily quiet, the only sound ringing bells from the United Church.

I don't really know what the lasting impact of the attacks of 9-11 has been on me. I have trouble personalizing exterior events like that. I did find out later that one of those who died at the WTC that day was somebody I knew from lifeguarding. We had both worked for the same parks and recreation department in our teens, but we had never worked together at the same pool, and he was a year or two older than me. I kind of just knew who he was.

So, where were you on September 11th, 2001? How did you experience that awful day? What are your memories and reflections? Use the comment link below to share you story.

Peace.

Posted By Andre Lauzon At 10:34 AM • Comments (2) Trackbacks (0)

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

Heavy

We spoke on Sunday at the River about breaking the cycle of pain and unforgiveness. A lot of our experience and discussion came down to trusting God in His promises to us in this area. Below is a poem about this:

My knees hurt. I can feel the beginning of a sharp tearing pain just below the knee cap.

It's far away still, but it is coming. I can feel it.

My body is tense, like waiting for the thunder after seeing the flash of lightning.

My back is sore. Not with the pain of a knife of a hammer, but like fabric stretched too far.

The pressure mounts, my shoulders hunch, my neck grows tight.

I can feel my back in my eyes, and I know what is next.

My soul is tired. All my mistakes grow before me.

My sin is in plain sight. I am weary and heavy and pulled taught.

Father, I have fallen and skinned my soul.

Please lift me up, hold me in your arms, kiss it better.

I don't have the words to tell you what is wrong.

It just is.
__

Peace

Posted By Andre Lauzon At 9:22 AM • Comments (0) Trackbacks (0)

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