Twice in the last week I've had people talk to me about the accessibility of the Good Shepherd staff.

In both cases, folks were pleased that both I and the team that works with me are available to the people of the church for conversation, prayer, and counsel.

I love this, of course.  I want us to be this way.  I long to preach as one who comes alongside the people of the church, not as one who stands over them.  Every once in awhile, it seems, we get that dynamic right.

But here's the rub:  in both the conversations I mentioned above, the people were contrasting our availability with other congregations they knew.

Other larger, more famous, more influential, more everything congregations.

The kind of churches where you can barely see the preacher, much less shake his hand or talk to him.

So what is the relationship between pastoral availability and congregational success?

Well, one way to answer that question is to realize that church health does not depend on everyone knowing the pastor (as accessible as I am, we're not at that place either).  I do love the notion, spoken by a leader of a genuine megachurch:  "It doesn't matter if everyone knows me.  It matters if they all know Jesus."  Well said.

And there's something to the notion that when church life is less about the availability of the pastor, the people of the church are then more empowered to be the Body of Christ in ministry to each other.  I assume that's one way in which higher profile churches become so, well, higher profile.

Yet on the other hand, I keep coming back to the book that has so shaped our identity at Good Shepherd:  Church Unique. 


Not Church Copycat.  Not Church Celebrity.  Not Church Formula.  Church Unique.  Within every congregation, there exists a unique, once in a galaxy DNA, a kingdom concept, a reason for being.  Ours happens to be inviting all people into a living relationship with Jesus Christ.

And apparently we'll do it that way for as long as we can with a pastoral team who will be as available as possible.

Maybe we'll even forge a new definition of success along the way.

In my line of work, I end up talking to people about death.  What it's like, how to prepare, how we understand life after death.

But what about life before death?  On occasion, I hear about all the things people want to accomplish before they take their last breath here on earth.  Some of those goals are large -- publish a book, for example -- while others are more humble -- just give me a few days where I'm not sick.

And those conversations get me thinking: if I sensed my time on earth was limited -- and given the gene pool I was born into, I have no reason to think so -- what would I want to make sure I got to do?  What is my bucket list?

Now: these are not especially noble.  I'm not solving world hunger or starting national revival.  These are instead. things that have occurred to me in the past; things I dismissed because they were either too expensive or I didn't have time or both; but things that if I could, I would.

1.  Spend the month of March in Indian Wells, CA and Key Biscayne, FL at two major pro tennis tournaments.  Do you know what March was like in Charlotte?  Raw, windy, miserable.  Have you seen March in the California desert or the Florida Keys?  Neither have I.  But I'd like to, at these two tennis stadia in particular.




2.  Fly in a private jet.  Not a prop job.  A jet.  Like the BAU does in Criminal Minds when they're off to catch the latest serial killer.  Who doesn't love it when Hotch says, "Wheels up in 30."??


3.  Wimbledon.  It doesn't even have to be during play.  But I figure I should go to there once before I head to the great lawn in the sky. 


4.  Hiking in Arches National Park.


5.  The Rose Bowl.  This would have to be during play.  Every time I watch the game, I think "I may not care who wins, but I'd sure like to be there."  Might even combine that trip with getting into the taping of Jeopardy -- Alex Trebek always invites us to join the studio audience!

 

What if you got food poisoning . . .


. . . from who you were with instead of what you ate?

It sounds like an absurd notion, doesn't it?

Except that was the world Jesus lived in.

And the world he turned upside down.

So we're going to spend some Sunday talking about the intersections of his world and ours.

Along the way, we have a spectacular way of remembering what we did with the Million Meal March.

So.

Sunday.

8:30. 10.  11:30.

Food Poisoning.  I promise you won't get it because you'll get it.