Questing Parson

Danger! - Rant Ahead!

 I hate it when these things happen. Maybe it’s never happened to you, but occasionally it happens to me. What happens is I get down right .... I get stirred up. My usual gentle demeanor gets disturbed. It happened last night. 

First, let me give credit where credit is due. The source of my irritation, my agitated state is my good friend Gary. He’s a big church preacher a couple hundred miles from where I hang out. I don’t know what possessed Gary to do what he did, but he did it. Personally, I’m too busy trying to iron out the wrinkles in this little congregation I serve to indulge in such things; but Gary is, as I say, a big church pastor and has a staff to do his work. As a consequence he has recently been entertaining himself by using the internet to spy on the accomplishments of our brothers and sisters of the cloth in our conference. He called me to share this information with me and gave me a quick tutorial on how to navigate about the episcopal area’s website in order to view the source of my irritation for myself.

As a consequence, I’ve discovered that with the inserting of the proper URL address to be followed by a few flips and clicks of the mouse I can view the contributions of every church in the area toward their denominational asking. Viewing the information has left me perplexed, shocked, and downright stirred up.

I know we’re in severe economic times. I know that the giving among church goers has decreased considerably. I know one can expect a downturn in contributions. But I never expected to see listed on that site all the churches that are blessed with fortune giving less than half the amount they were asked. And frankly fellow pastor (and all of you know who you are) if my church’s contributions toward the asking was less than ten percent I’d haul my ass down to the conference treasurer’s office and write a personal check just to demonstrate I was committed. 

I can’t but wonder if seeing a church giving one or two percent of the asking is more offensive than giving none at all. A zero contribution, it seems to me, is an acknowledgement that one is not with the program. A contribution of one or two percent is an acknowledgement of the program’s existence but the pastor’s “I don’t give a shit.” attitude. (That’s just my opinion; I could be wrong.)

I’m wondering if any of those pastors whose church paid less than they were asked turned down any increase in pay or asked that their pay be reduced. Do you suppose there’s one who did?

Now let me wave a flag of triumph here. The little rural church I serve managed to pay 100% of what they were asked. In addition, they clothed a substantial number of indigent children, provided lice treatment for impoverished children  who need such in an extremely financially disadvantaged school, provided a substantial portion of the needed funds for a missionary in Peru, operated a weekly soup kitchen where a wide variety of meals, not all of which were soup, were provided free, financed one half of the funding for a transitional housing ministry, as well as several other ministries. We did this by cutting expenses. We no longer mail out a newsletter; when something breaks we fix it ourselves rather than buy a new one; we economize to have money for ministry and to pay all the denominational asking (which, by the way, is ridiculously high).

Speaking of economizing, I’m a little tired of hearing from my denominational supervisors that the preachers need to push the people to get the asking in. I’m tired of it because I don’t see any economizing on their part. They still drive, one person to a car, to their meetings. Apparently they have no idea of internet-enhanced meetings. They still find reason to go to a sea side resort to decide which pastor is going to be moved where. There has been no trimming of staff on the denominational level. I could go on and on here, but I won’t. One or two of them actually read this.

So here’s the end of the rant: To all you pastors and churches who are not doing your job, who have decided to thumb your nose at the connection by doing the least possible, and to all you denominational executives who have done nothing to trim costs and practice real stewardship, this country parson who has encouraged his church to pay out 100% and to do even more than that:

Get a calling; get a ministry; get some gumption; get a sense of purpose because we’re sick and tired of carrying you on our back.

Graphic by subscription with Clip Art [dot] Com

About the Money

The parson entered the hospital room of one of his senior members. She greeted him with a smile and extended her hand to him. Her nephew, Lawrence, also a member but one who seldom darkened the door but to complain, stepped away from the bed to allow the parson easy access. The parson talked with her for a while; she asked him to call a couple of friends of hers to make sure her cat got fed. Then she requested he stop by her place and be sure the gate to the pasture was secure. Tom Pettit, she informed him, had some prize cattle in the pasture and she didn’t want them to get out.

They talked for several for a good ten to fifteen minutes; the parson had a prayer with her; she squeezed his hand in gratitude as the parson turned to leave.

“Hey, Parson,” said Lawrence, “before you go, I heard a rumor that we got a pretty big collection on Sunday.”

“We did, Lawrence. We did. It was an answer to a prayer.”

“How much was it?”

“It was enough to provide us with the bread we need, Lawrence.”

“What are we going to do with it?”

“We’ll pay some bills and send the rest to our missionaries.”

“I heard that’s what you and your hand picked committee decided.”

“You know, Lawrence, you should come to the Church Conference when we have it. They you could vote and it would be your hand picked committee.”

“Well, I think we should hold on to that money, Parson. We should bank it and make sure its there for a rainy day. Lord knows, we’re in rough times right now.”

The parson moved toward the door. 

“So, what do you think?”

“What do i think about what?”

“What do you think about my suggestion?”

“I heard every word you said, Lawrence. I hope to see you in church soon.”

Graphics by subscription with Clip Art [dot] Com

A Precious Gift

Ring! Ring!

“Hello.”

“Parson, this is Jennifer.”

“Hello, Jennifer, how are things with you.” Jennifer was the Treasurer of the parson’s church, a saint who gave more time to the church than any twelve others. 

“Everything is great on this end, Parson. I hate to bother you but I don’t know how to handle something.”

“What’s that?” asked the parson.

“We got a special offering Sunday. I was going to tell you about it Sunday, but everybody was talking to you and then my sister and I took a few days off and went on a mini vacation. We got back this morning so I called you.”

“I hope you two behaved yourselves,” said the parson. “What was the special offering?”

“I scanned the envelope and emailed it to you.”

“Hold on a moment,” the parson said. He opened a new URL on the computer and checked his church email. There was Jennifer’s email with an attachment. The parson opened the attachment and found the copy of an  offering envelope. The information on the envelope was as follows:

NAME:   Christine

ADDRESS: 4767 State Highway 178

PHONE: 555 6345

The places where one checked for either Regular Budget or Building Fund, or Church Mission Work was lined out. The space marked “Special Offering” had a distinctive check mark.

The parson smiled a big smile. He knew who the gift was from. Christine was a seven year old whose family had started attending about six months ago.

In the amount space, Christine had written in $”Lot’s of Love.”

The parson’s smile broadened.

“Parson, are you still there?”

“I am, Jennifer.”

“How am I supposed to handle this?”

“Well, Jennifer, I guess we should make a record of the gift and be humbled by the magnificence of the gift.”

Graphic by subscription to Church Art Pro

Poisoned Stewardship

So I debated writing a story for today or indulging myself. Myself won. 

I sat myself down and clicked, fired up the computer, and watched “Poisoned Waters”, a PBS Frontline presentation. The two hour program (and, yes, you should take time to watch it) examines the Chesapeake Bay and Puget Sound, thirty years after the Clean Water Act.

I won’t outline the story here (but, yes, you should watch it). Near the end the program examined King County, Washington, where there is an effort to address the problems that are poisoning Puget Sound’s waters, where the Orcas are dying from contaminants. One strategy has been to restrict people owning five acres of forest development from sub-dividing the property or utilizing more than one-third in a manner that would result in the cutting of trees. 

In the interview with one of the effected property owners, a woman stated in an angry voice: “It’s my land I can do whatever I want with it.”

Somehow she reminded me of so many church people I’ve run across over the years. “It’s our church.” 

“It’s mine!”

I thought of our current environmental problems. I thought of her attitude. I thought of the churches I’ve served.

This entire country suffers from a poisoned attitude toward stewardship.

Here ends the rant.