June 21st marks the first official day of summer and as such gives me pause to consider a preacher's ambiguous relationship with that season.

On the one hand, I love summer:  the weather is hot, the water is cool, and shoes are optional.

On the other hand, I hate summer.  Why?

Because ever since my first full summer in ministry (1991), I've been haunted by the comment of a member of Mt. Carmel Church -- "attendance will be up and down this summer.  Up in the mountains and down at the beach." 

His prediction proved to be accurate, not only in 1991 but for every year that has followed as well.

So what's a preacher to do?  Prepare second rate sermons and save all the good ones for January when people have no choice but to come to church?

Grow in bitterness every time someone mentions in passing that they'll be "at the beach" this weekend?  Especially since you (the preacher) can't go as you have to work on the weekends?

Or take six weeks off and let others fill in?

I've been tempted to do all three, for sure.  My most common reaction is #2 -- bitterness.  And then I step back from the situation, look at it objectively, and realize how sad it is that I begrudge other people's leisure time.  I should actually rejoice at the weekends people get to spend with one another, enjoying God's creation.

On those occasions when my better nature shows through, I approach summer worship the same way I approach worship at any other time of the year:  there will always be people there who are desperately hungry for a touch from God.  And we're there to help facilitate exactly that.

For the last several years at Good Shepherd, we've devoted summer months to some longer sermon series that have more of a teaching element to them.  Royal Pains, which wrapped up last week, is a good example of what I'm talking about. 

Because there will always be new people checking out church during the summer months.  Attendance may not be "up," but the church can still be growing as it enfolds new people into its midst by teaching them clearly and loving them well. That process is pretty much the same whether it's July or January.

So in the meantime, I'll try to cure my own summertime blues by throwing everything I have and everything we are into this next series from the book of Hebrews.  More on that tomorrow.

There are so many things I can't do.

For example, not long ago I had an excellent idea for how to conclude an upcoming worship gathering.  The problem was that I had very little idea of how to take that idea from conception to implementation.

So did that make me an "idea" person or merely a daydreamer?

Well, in this case it worked out.  One of the many enormous benefits of working with the staff here is that many of them can take a good idea and make it much better.

(By the way, that idea and its superior implementation because of the way staff completed it is coming on July 1, the second week of Upgrade.)

And that dilemma circles me back to those things that I can do.

Lead the church technologically?  No.

Sing a killer solo?  Nope.

Develop IT systems that make sure no person gets left behind?  Not yet.

Make sure the church's teaching has solid biblical grounding?  Yes.

Advance the gospel through its accurate and passionate proclamation?  Absolutely.

Help people unleash the spiritual insights living within them?  For sure.

Provide a sense of historic perspective that balances our world's obsession with now?  Yep.

All of this comes under the larger heading I remembering hearing in the ordination process oh-so-many years ago:  a local pastor is the chief resident theologian of the congregation.  Not the only one, mind you, just the most visible one.

As such, I've got to make sure I'm deeply connected to this ancient and vast stream of teaching we fondly refer to as "orthodoxy." 

Because while I may not be able to convert an idea into digital media, I can make sure that the content the media contains does not waver from faith handed down once for all to the saints.

Early next month, I will begin my 23rd year of full-time ministry in the Western North Carolina Conference of the United Methodist Church. Whew.

From 1990-1999, I served at Mt. Carmel & Midway Churches just outside of Monroe and since 1999 I've been here at Good Shepherd.

This time of year almost always gets me thinking about anniversaries, developments, and transitions.

And this year in particular I've been reflecting on the differences between full-time ministry in the early 1990s and today.

For sure some of the differences I perceive have to do with the different settings of ministry:  small churches located adjacent to a small town as opposed to a large church straddling two states and three counties.  Yet other differences have to do with people's changing expectations of churches, pastors, and life.

So here goes . . . the top five differences in pastoral ministry between then (1990) and now (2012).

1.  Secret-Keeping Vs. Therapy-Seeking.  In the early 90s, people were loathe to share issues with anyone, especially a pastor in a church where everyone knows everyone else.  The pastoral visitation I did -- and I did a lot -- generally featured conversations that were breezy and light.  These days, people are much more comfortable talking about their trauma; in fact, they often predict the therapeutic answers that will come out of my mouth.  I trace that development -- and this is anecdotal & not scientific -- to the influence of Oprah and the prevalence of recovery programs.

2.  Corner Grocery Vs. Wal-Mart.  When I received my ministry training in the late 1980s, I had almost no exposure to either mega churches or contemporary worship.  I fully planned to be a chaplain of corner grocery store - type churches . . . a series of mid-sized United Methodist congregations doing ministry they way they'd done it for generations.  Well, those days are behind us, for better and for worse.  The concentration of church attendance into a few large churches is fine if you are a large church but perhaps not so good for the faith as a whole.  We try our best here -- with varying levels of success -- to help a large church feel small.  Or to make Wal-Mart feel like Al's Corner Store.

3.  Homogeneity Vs. Diversity.  This is a marvelous development.  The old mentality of "they have their church and we have our church" is now buried, dead, and out of the way.  At least here in Southwest Charlotte.  On the few occasions these days were I preach or teach in single race settings, it feels just plain wrong. 

4.  Couples Bring Their Children To Pre-Marital Counseling.  A phenomenon asking for new levels of skill in telling the truth while speaking in love.

5.  Avoiding Technology Vs. Harnessing Technololgy.  When I began serving the churches in Monroe, VCRs were still viewed with some suspicion.  So were ping pong tables.  Today?  Good Shepherd and the churches that surround us could barely function without the internet, projection systems, and online dialog.  You know what I can't imagine doing anymore?  Stuffing newsletters into envelopes to mail them to everyone in the church.  We hope to harness technology without being defined by it.