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You Have Never Traveled This Way Before

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by Noel Santiago

“Since you have never traveled this way before…” – Joshua 3:4a (NLT)

Assembled on the Plains of Moab, Israel received the Mosaic laws outlined in Deuteronomy and mourned the loss of their leader, Moses. Now Joshua is to lead the people of Israel. A generation before, the people did not want to enter the land God had promised Abraham, so they wandered in the wilderness for 40 years. They had crossed the Red (Reed) Sea and experienced the Lord’s deliverance from Egypt’s might. 

Now this generation, under new leadership, finds themselves on a similar path. They were to cross the Jordan River by following the Ark of the Covenant, the place of God’s presence as noted in Joshua 3:3-4: “When you see the Levitical priests carrying the Ark of the Covenant of the Lord your God, move out from your positions and follow them.”  

The instructions to the people continue in Joshua 3, “Since you have never traveled this way before, they will guide you. Stay about a half mile behind them, keeping a clear distance between you and the Ark. Make sure you don’t come any closer.” (NLT) 

In the wilderness, God had used a pillar of cloud and pillar of fire to lead, protect, and provide for the people. That generation was accustomed to experiencing God’s presence and leading in these pillars. Now the new generation is being instructed to follow the Ark of the Covenant. What happened to the pillars? 

All these sojourns and symbols point to and climax in Jesus. From pillars of fire, the Ark of the Covenant, and New Testament imagery like ascending on a cloud and tongues of fire descending on disciples, there is a coherent connectedness through which God’s story flows from one generation to the next.  

How might we understand our story in this larger narrative of God’s story? What pathways are we on? What rivers or seas do we need to cross? What mountains are we invited to climb? What are ways of knowing and following God’s Holy Spirit that might be different than previous generations?

Noel Santiago

Noel Santiago is the Leadership Minister for Missional Transformation for Mosaic Conference.

The Confrontational Fire of MLK 

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by Jordan Luther

On Monday, the US will celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. Day. It is a federal holiday that honors the life and legacy of one of the great Christian pastors, orators, and civil rights icons in US history. 

If you are like me and were born after 1986, MLK Day has always been a federal holiday. My earliest lessons of Martin Luther King Jr. were about how Dr. King was a man who advocated for equality among the races. Soundbites from his famous “I Have a Dream” speech were often read in class and commented on to paint the picture of a nice, Black man who longs for everyone to get along. I have since learned that there is more confrontational fire to Martin Luther King Jr. than our nation likes to remember. 

In a 2014 chapel sermon, Eastern Mennonite Seminary professor David Evans called the popular public narrative around Dr. King as a “domesticated King.” Sometimes we memorialize prophets as a way to smooth out their rough edges that make the status quo feel uncomfortable. As a historian, Evans reminds us that up until his death, Dr. King had a knack for confronting oppressive powers and making enemies. 

Dr. King made many enemies in his lifetime. He was critical of racial segregation in the Jim Crow South and the subject of hatred for segregationist politicians and White mobs. He also was an enemy of the rich for fighting for jobs and fair pay for low-wage workers. Dr. King was an outspoken critic of the Vietnam War and militarism. King made many enemies because he tirelessly made the nation uncomfortable in his pursuit of justice. 

It is well documented through King’s sermons and books that he experienced anger. He regularly called himself “discontent” and expressed his anger at both the powers of government and the church.  

Perhaps King’s anger was no more apparent than with the White church and its leadership. Much of King’s frustration with the White church came from its lack of support during the Birmingham boycotts. King had hoped the White church and its leadership would show moral outrage and speak out against the city’s Jim Crow policies. King was hoping to receive love and solidarity from his fellow Christians. Instead, King and other organizers from the Southern Christian Leadership Conference were met with rebuke and scolded for spending time in jail and asked to “wait” for their freedom to come eventually.  

Martin Luther King’s life reminds us that sometimes the hardest enemies to love are the folks with whom we share the most in common. It angered Dr. King that White Christians were turning a blind eye towards the injustice of their Black neighbors—many of whom were also Christian. In King’s famous “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” King implored these White church leaders to see social issues as integrated concerns for the gospel. King worried that if the church fails to practice the “sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authenticity…and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club.”

So on this upcoming MLK Day, we would be wise not to smooth out the rough edges of his prophetic voice. May King’s holy discontentment invite us to challenge the status quo and seek transformation through Jesus Christ. 

Jordan Luther

Jordan Luther is a member at Methacton Mennonite Church in Worcester, PA. He volunteers with the Mosaic Intercultural Committee and leads the committee’s White Caucus. Jordan lives in Souderton, PA with his wife Sarah and their daughter.

Stewarding a Spiritual Legacy 

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by Eileen Kinch

Last year, a Friend in my Quaker meeting died. Later I learned that he had named me in his will to take care of his religious books and writings.  

Boxes and boxes of old books came to our house, as well as to my parents’. As I sorted through the collection, I discovered a few surprises: a copy of Scottish Quaker Robert Barclay’s Apology from 1678, a two-volume set from 1753 of A Collection of the Sufferings of the People Called Quakers by Joseph Besse, and an almost complete book set of the writings by Quaker founder George Fox. 

What does it mean to steward a spiritual legacy? I have spent a lot of time thinking about this. Terry Wallace gave these books to me. But before Terry gave me these books, Lewis and Sarah Potts Benson gave these books to Terry. Lewis and Sarah worked very hard to teach Quakers in the 1970s and 1980s about their religious heritage. Lewis, Sarah, and Terry traveled to Friends meetings in the United Kingdom and in the US with the same message: that Quakers have a very special understanding of Christ being alive here and now, and that we can know and obey him. 

Some of the books have notes scribbled on the edges of pages or even on the end pages.  Lewis kept meticulous notes of how Friends used words in their journals or other writings from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. He even assembled a word index. Terry wrote books that interpret some of these older writings. My experience of Christ has been shaped and nurtured because of the faithfulness of others, including Sarah, Lewis, and Terry. 

A few Friends recommended that I send older volumes to the archives at Haverford and Swarthmore Colleges. Since Barclay’s Apology is now available online, an archival facility would know best how to take care of a book from 1678. This is helpful advice. 

I’m still deciding what I want to do. One thing very clear to me is that the legacy I have been given is not simply the books themselves; what the books contain, teach, or even document is even more important than where I decide to store them.  I need to talk and write about my spiritual heritage and why Quaker history and witness are so important. The books are not dead relics. I want them to make a difference for the Kingdom of God, and I want to be a living witness to Christ’s power today. 

I am a Quaker who lives and works among Mennonites. Mennonites also have a spiritual legacy that should be nurtured and stewarded. I hope Mennonites are sharing stories of living witness with each other and preserving them at places like the Mennonite Heritage Center. Stories do not simply belong to individuals — they belong to all of us. God’s faithfulness and the faithfulness of our brothers and sisters shape our own. 

Eileen Kinch

Eileen Kinch is a writer and editor for the Mosaic communication team. She holds a Master of Divinity degree, with an emphasis in the Ministry of Writing, from Earlham School of Religion. She and her husband, Joel Nofziger, who serves as director of the Mennonite Heritage Center in Harleysville, live near Tylersport, PA. They attend Methacton Mennonite Church. Eileen is also a member of Keystone Fellowship Friends Meeting in Lancaster County.

Take Heart, It Is Almost the End of Advent Again

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by Stephen Kriss

It is Advent again. We call this time Advent because it reminds us of what comes from God for the creation of his kingdom on earth. We who are here have been led in a special way to keep what is coming on our hearts and to shape ourselves according to it. That which comes from God—that is what moves our hearts, not only in these days but at all times.

Christoph Friedrich Blumhardt

Waiting is part of the human experience. We live in the in-between space, where the reign of God is upon us and not yet, where there is grieving and rejoicing, when things are both lost and found. However, as we see in the Gospel of Mark (this year’s primary lectionary text), there are moments when things are suddenly upon us.  

The Christmas season brings out a level of tenderness in many of us, a time when gift-giving and remembering those less privileged than ourselves is part of the US cultural practice rooted in a Christendom story. It is also a season where we are sometimes the most overtaxed or aware of our lack. The seasonal time of longer nights and less sunlight can make us more acutely aware of all that is not right or well, including ourselves. 

…we practice waiting for light and for Christ’s inbreaking in the midst of long darkness.

As a Mosaic of Christ-followers, a diverse people of God following Christ’s way of peace, we practice waiting for light and for Christ’s inbreaking in the midst of long darkness. We practice pensive waiting more than we might embrace overflowing joy. We know that all is not well in a world where wars wage, injustice dominates, and Herodian leaders call for violence against innocents even now. 

My opening passage excerpt from German theologian Christoph Blumhardt is an invitation to engage with our heart and to respond to the things of our hearts. It reminds me of the Emmaus Road story in Luke 24, the disciples’ post-resurrection encounter with Jesus. The disciples’ hearts warmed while they talked together about all of the difficult things they had experienced, even though they did not recognize Jesus with them. That conversation was not a glossing over the struggle, but a willingness to listen, to validate, to accompany, and eventually, to eat together. There is something within us beyond our head, feet, and hands, deep in our body, that knows the holy from the inside out. 

There is something within us beyond our head, feet, and hands, deep in our body, that knows the holy from the inside out. 

While we wait for Christmas, what does it means to acknowledge all that is fraught, all that we are waiting for, all that is “not yet the reign of God” and yet, still gather and celebrate? We know that wars and rumors of wars rage, we know the personal failures, theological, and political disagreements among us, and we seek to listen and be heard. Even so, we still gather around the table, or a Christmas tree, around a fire or in worship, knowing we are participating in the inbreaking of God–knowing it in our hearts, and enacting it in our bodies, in our communities, and in our relationships. We celebrate this not just now, but always, because we are always waiting, and the reign of God is always breaking through. “I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19, NRSV). 

Stephen Kriss

Stephen Kriss is the Executive Minister of Mosaic Conference.

A Prayer Journey 

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by Emily Ralph Servant

When I was a child, I believed in miracles.  Prayer could move mountains; we prayed fervently and often.  By the time I was a teenager, I had a list of people and circumstances for whom I prayed every morning, early, before the rest of my family woke up. My (literal) prayer closet heard many petitions for healed bodies, restored marriages, world peace. 

By the time I was in my twenties, I found my prayer life had grown stale. After many years of interceding for people and situations without seeing healing, restoration, or peace, I found prayer to be painful. I couldn’t push requests out of my mouth when my heart didn’t truly believe that the answer would be “yes.” 

In seminary, I was introduced to contemplative prayer. It took a while for me to learn how to still my racing thoughts and simply sit in God’s presence, but eventually I began to experience God’s powerful and healing love flowing through me as I came to God without wishes or demands. It was enough to be with God and know that I was loved. 

This practice of contemplative prayer was tested in my early thirties, as I struggled with depression and anxiety, healing from past trauma. Stilling an anxious mind was challenging; experiencing God’s presence felt impossible when my body and heart startled and ached.  I found myself longing to believe that I could ask God for peace, restoration, and joy, and God would make it happen. 

But there was no magic wand. 

Still, time and again God met me, holding me close in the quiet and the pain. And as the peace, restoration, and joy slowly filtered back, I wrestled to make sense of a lifetime of conflicting experiences of prayer. I visited other congregations in Mosaic Conference and heard stories of times when the church prayed for healing and the cancer disappeared.  Yet someone I love still endures chronic pain after decades of intercession. I remembered times when funds miraculously showed up to pay a pressing bill. And I also remembered when I begged God to intervene with justice and mercy and still my child was taken from me. 

I have found that, anymore, I don’t often have words to give to God. When someone I know is hurting, I rarely ask God for anything more than “Please!” Most often, I simply hold them in the compassionate, redeeming presence of God, trusting in the one who said to a sick man, “I do want to!” (Luke 5:13, CEB) 

“There are different spiritual gifts but the same Spirit; and there are different ministries and the same Lord; and there are different activities but the same God who produces all of them in everyone. A demonstration of the Spirit is given to each person for the common good.”

1 Corinthians 12:3-7, CEB

In this stage of my prayer journey, I find myself grateful for those in my life who have energy and faith to intercede for others. Rather than feeling condemned by them, I see them as Aaron and Hur, who held up Moses’ arms when he was getting tired (Exodus 17). I Corinthians 12 says that the church is a body made of many parts, each with its own gift. Maybe others have the gift to pray for healing and transformation, and I can receive that gift with gratitude. 

And perhaps I bring my own gift to the church. I am noticing that, as I stop filling my time with God with words, I have more space to listen. God speaks—in the stillness, in Scripture, in life circumstances, through other people, even in unexpected places in my neighborhood. When I listen for God and then change in response to what I hear, I am transformed. The world around me is transformed. Prayer changes things. 

Emily Ralph Servant

Emily Ralph Servant is a Leadership Minister for Mosaic Mennonite Conference. Emily has served in pastoral roles at Swamp and Indonesian Light congregations and graduated from Eastern Mennonite Seminary.

Differences That Unify, Not Divide

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by Mary Nitzsche

When I was in the ordination process, I was serving as a Leadership Minister for Ohio Conference of Mennonite Church USA. Since I was not pastoring a congregation, the pastors I accompanied were asked to evaluate my readiness for ordination. One pastor, whom I will call Sam, struggled with whether he could support my ordination given his theological interpretation of scripture. Sam took this matter so seriously that he re-read the scriptures about the role of women in leadership, discussed his perspective with trusted colleagues, and prayed about this decision. In his prayerful discernment, he came to his prior conclusion that women should not be ordained.  

Sam communicated his position in a lengthy written document sent certified mail to me and multiple conference leaders. The letter ended with his conviction that he would not stand in the way of the conference decision. There were no threats to leave the conference or denomination if there was support for my ordination. There were no threats he would no longer accept my leadership role in accompanying him in ministry.

Mary Nitzsche (left) was ordained as Regional Pastor of Ohio Conference at Oak Grove Mennonite Church in Smithville, OH on November 16, 1997. Photo provided by Mary Nitzsche.

 

My ordination was supported by the other pastors, conference leadership, and the Ministerial Committee of Ohio Conference and Central District Conference. With his congregational responsibilities, Sam was not able to attend my ordination on November 16, 1997, 26 years ago. 

Because I was unsure of how my ordination would impact our relationship, it took six months after my ordination to have the courage to call Sam. I asked if I could visit his congregation and get to know them. The first thing out of Sam’s mouth was, “Would you be willing to preach?”  

I was shocked and I hesitated to respond. How could he invite me to preach in his congregation while not endorsing the ordination of women, I wondered. Without needing to understand his reasoning, I accepted the invitation with humility and tears of joy. I had experienced God’s grace like never before.  

From this gracious brother, I learned the importance and priority of relationship over belief. I learned the importance of prayerful discernment on matters of belief with an openness to new interpretations. I learned that two people can take scripture seriously, study it carefully, follow Jesus faithfully, and interpret the same scripture differently. I learned that when there is disagreement, there can be mutual respect rather than judgment, and a willingness to remain in fellowship rather than separate. While I understand there are times when separation may be best for a relationship or faith community, I do not believe this should be the norm.  

Before his impending death on the cross, Jesus’ prayed three times for his current and future disciples, “that they will all be one–as you are in me, Father, and I am in you. And may they be in us so that the world will believe you sent me. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” (John 17:21 NLT). Jesus’ disciples had different personalities and different understandings of Jesus and his mission, and as such, the oneness to which Jesus was calling them did not mean sameness. 

Jesus’ invitation was to remain in relationship even when perspectives are different. In a polarized world in Jesus’ time and now, oneness is a sign of faithfully following the teaching and practices of Jesus. I learned this 26 years ago from my gracious brother in Christ, and I hope my life has demonstrated Jesus’ prayer over these many years of ministry.  

Mary Nitzsche

Mary Nitzsche is a Leadership Minister for Mosaic Conference. She and her husband, Wayne, are Midwest natives. They have two adult daughters, Alison and Megan, son-in-laws, Michael and David, and two grandchildren.

As a Leader, I’m Tempted

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by Hendy Matahelemual

A church asked me to preach as part of a series on the prophets. The week I was scheduled, the prophet was Jesus. When I prayed about what to say, I felt the Holy Spirit wanted me to talk about how to lead like Jesus. I was taken aback. “No, not leadership,” I thought. 

Leadership is one of the most challenging topics for me to preach about. Perhaps this is because I struggle with self-confidence. Most of the time I don’t feel like a good leader. 

Henry Nouwen’s book In the Name of Jesus: Reflections on Christian Leadership, gave me encouragement. Nouwen writes that a leader is tempted to be relevant, spectacular, and powerful. In my leadership roles, I’m tempted to try to be everything to everyone. Especially in an immigrant community, the pastor’s role is not limited to preaching and leading Bible study. We are expected to be so much more: handyman, driver, interpreter, legal counsel, realtor, and 24/7 emergency and information hotline. The community might have unrealistic expectations. If we are not careful, burnout and depression are around the corner. 

When Jesus was tempted in the desert, the devil tried to get him to use his power for the wrong reasons. I think the devil uses the same tricks on leaders today. I have fallen into the “relevance” trap because I want to be recognized as a pastor who helps people. There’s an urge inside of me to be useful for my congregation, conference, and community. 

There is nothing wrong with helping meet people’s needs. But the motive must be genuine love, not a desire to impress others or fill a void in one’s own life. Meeting the world’s needs might solve an immediate problem but not an eternal one. Maybe you fixed someone’s furniture or helped resolve an asylum case. These good deeds don’t meet the deepest human need: God’s love. 

“God’s love can be manifested through personal connections,” Nouwen writes. “We live in a culture where everything is measured by results, achievements, and numbers, but there’s less emphasis on relationships and connections. As leaders, we need to be irrelevant to this culture by being vulnerable as individuals who also need love from God and care from the community.” 

The next temptation is to be spectacular. In Indonesia, I worked as a pastor at a megachurch. We had an average attendance of more than 2,000 people and about 40 staff. Every year, we baptized around 100 people. 

When I moved to the US, everything changed. I pastor a small congregation. At one point, we had fewer than ten people in our Sunday service. I had to work two or even three jobs to support my ministry. In the first three years, we baptized three people. My wife and I felt like failures. Friends back home asked why we were wasting our time and energy. They said we should return to Indonesia. 

We are glad we stayed. I learned a lot leading a small congregation. The congregation sees me as I am. I cannot hide behind the pulpit on a big stage, out of reach. Others see my vulnerability and our lives become intertwined. My congregation sees our struggles in marriage, parenting, and making ends meet. At first, this seemed like frailty. But we grew to understand it as a blessing. Others love us as we are. 

Nouwen says a leader needs the people as much as they need the leader. I’m trying to grow as a leader while being led by others, and to lead like Jesus by not giving in to temptation to be relevant, spectacular, or powerful.   

A version of this article originally appeared in Anabaptist World and is reprinted with permission.

Hendy Matahelemual

Hendy Matahelemual is the Associate Minister for Community Engagement for Mosaic Conference. Hendy Matahelemual was born and grew up in the city of Bandung, Indonesia. Hendy lives in Philadelphia with his wife Marina and their three boys, Judah, Levi and Asher.

From Artificial Harmony to Just Diversity 

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By: Stephen Kriss

This summer our Mosaic Board, along with some staff and committees, participated in training with Carlos Romero (long-time former Executive Director of Mennonite Education Agency) on the Intercultural Development Inventory (IDI). The IDI is an internationally recognized tool used to gauge individual and group intercultural levels. The gauge ranges from denial and minimization to acceptance and adaptation. It provides vocabulary and a framework for sometimes difficult conversations around intercultural transformation.  

As a core priority and reality of Mosaic, we continue to discern and discover what it means to be intercultural. We aim to stay rooted in the Biblical narrative of the Spirit’s work, evident in the Gospels and the early life of the church.  

In our training, Romero pointed out that Mosaic has spent a lot of time talking about what we have in common. We have yet to find ways to discover, unveil, and name our differences. This is part of the intercultural journey. 

Romero acknowledged that we are a community that officially formed in 2020 and is still developing a sense of shared identity. We have only met fully in-person with our delegates once. We are still learning what it means to include communities from Vermont to California and Florida with our Pennsylvania roots.  

Photo by Nataliya Vaitkevich

In her book, The Space Between Us, Betty Pries highlights Patrick Lencioni’s metaphor of “artificial harmony.” In this reality, differences remain under the surface and undiscussed. There are multiple reasons this happens. 

In Mennonite and Protestant church settings, I believe we hold “artificial harmony” not because we fear conflict as much as we fear the outcome of conflict, which has often meant that we split and sever relationships. If we had healthy models of how to acknowledge, embrace, and work through differences together, we might not be so conflict-averse. 

When we don’t regularly work through conflict, the outcomes are often separation, leaving the room, scapegoating, and demonization. In our context of cultural polarization, we walk away from each other rather than give the Spirit time and space to work. 

Our Pathways strategic planning process has uncovered that we need to spend time cultivating the practice of talking about our differences and navigating conflict without allowing only the loudest voices to be heard while others withdraw to avoid conflict.  

If we knew that our commitments to each other would keep us together even in disagreement, we would be better able to manage conflicts and interpersonal storminess. This will require both strategic and Spirit work, utilizing our hearts, heads, and guts.  

In contrast to artificial harmony, Safwat Marzouk, in his book Intercultural Church, calls for “just diversity.” We are not always aware of the ways the early church struggled and worked at this … from Jesus’ boundary-breaking, to the martyrdom of Stephen (who was named to a role to address an issue of equity based on his qualifications and ethnic identity), to the struggles of keeping kosher, the roles of women, the realities of slavery, and the ethnic divisions of Jews and Gentiles … it was constant negotiation as the Good News crossed boundaries into new communities. 

Conversation about our cultural, theological, ethnic, language, political, and personal differences will be part of seeking “just diversity” within Mosaic. This is God’s work with us, strategic and holy, hopeful and hard.

Stephen Kriss

Stephen Kriss is the Executive Minister of Mosaic Conference.