formational

On Becoming a Church Invested in Racial Justice

January 16, 2014 by Emily Ralph Servant

Ewuare Osayande, anti-oppression coordinator for Mennonite Central Committee, joined us Thursday for a pastors breakfast entitled “Proactive Pastorship: On Becoming a Church Invested in Racial Justice.”

Ewuare challenged congregational leaders to understand the concept of “race:” a social construct emerging out of colonialism and slavery. Once congregations understand race, they can begin to have a conversation about racism and the impact racism has had on all people.

Ewuare also encouraged pastors to study the way that race has impacted the development of the Mennonite church in the United States and the communities that Mennonite immigration displaced. Mennonites have their own history of suffering but somewhere along the way, they became the “Quiet in the Land.” When they came to the “New World,” the Quiet in the Land were silent in the face of injustice and benefited from it. “This is also a part of your history,” he said.

Hear Ewuare’s entire presentation, his suggestions on steps congregations can take to invest in racial justice, and an insightful question and answer time:

[podcast]http://www.mosaicmennonites.org/media-uploads/mp3/Racial Justice.mp3[/podcast]

Read Ewuare’s blog and register for the upcoming MCC webinar on Renisha McBride, race, and gender: http://mccantioppression.wordpress.com/

Ewuare suggests that white pastors and congregations read A Testament of Hope as a way to begin understanding African American thought and theology.

Paul Lederach: A Spiritual Oak on our Horizon

January 8, 2014 by Emily Ralph Servant

by John Ruth, Salford congregation

The passing of Paul Mensch Lederach (1925-2014) on Monday morning, January 6, brings to an earthly close one of the most admirable, valuable and lengthy life-stories in the three-century history of the Franconia Mennonite Conference. Not only Paul’s wife Mary (Slagell) and their children and grandchildren, but the Dock retirement community, the conference, and the Mennonite Church USA are now saying farewell to a far-reaching presence and influence.

Born as the oldest living child of a young mission-worker couple in Norristown, Paul grew up in an epicenter of Mennonite life, whose themes captivated his soul. Ordained a minister by the casting of lots when only halfway through his years at Goshen College, the tall, handsome nineteen-year-old could electrify a traditional Mennonite audience. The respect the aging bishops had for this newcomer was such that only five years later, when he was 24, and a graduate of a Baptist seminary, they could endorse him in the office of bishop. I myself, at the age of 20, was ordained by the laying on of his hands at Norristown in August of 1950.

Paul’s completion of a doctoral degree in Christian Education had led immediately to a call to work in that field at the Mennonite Publishing House in Scottdale, PA. This was another epicenter, this time of the wider church. But his second ordination called him back home, where the bishops asked him to help the Blooming Glen congregation through its recovery from the loss of members to the recently born “Calvary Mennonite” (later independent “Calvary”) church. One of his tasks in this role, he found, was to persuade members to remove wedding rings. Many years later he would observe that he had never seen a decade without major debate in the church on one issue or another.

But the wider Mennonite Church renewed its call for Paul’s exceptional training and gifts, with the result that shortly before marrying Oklahoma-born schoolteacher Mary, he returned to Scottdale. There too he would serve as a bishop in the Allegheny Conference, while supervising the Christian Education work of our entire denomination. For a quarter century, with four children growing up in Scottdale, Paul’s name was increasingly synonymous with curricular themes and projects in not only our own churches, but those of related denominations.

Some twenty-plus titles from Paul’s pen are still available on Amazon.com. One with which every member of our Conference should be familiar is his little classic of 1980, A Third Way. Written at the close of his Scottdale career, it placed in simple language the key insights and convictions of the Mennonite faith tradition and shows how deeply Paul, no follower of fads, was rooted in scripture. The breadth of this biblical orientation became overwhelmingly evident in his commentary on the book of Daniel, now spread to over 500 libraries nationwide and beyond.

Though not narrow in mentality, Paul represented insight into the reasons for being the kind of Christians implicit in our tradition. When a respected sister in our conference began to wear a cross necklace, describing it as a spiritual ornament, he asked, “Would you wear an electric chair?” When in 1995 at a historic and somewhat tense meeting in Wichita, Kansas, the Mennonite Church and General Conference jointly accepted our groundbreaking “Confession of Faith in a Mennonite Perspective,” Paul soberly counseled, just before the vote was taken, against a demonstrative, triumphant response that would insult those who in good conscience voted negatively.

In his return to the Franconia Conference area Paul not only served as an appreciated elder statesman, but poured his talents into a sequence of pastoral interims and major historical writings. A quarter-century later he was still growing spiritually, confessing that his mind was changing under the influence of the Gospel he loved. And, on the day before his sudden final illness, he was back at Norristown, encouraging a plan to support the congregation into which he had been born 88 years before. His legacy will continue initiating and steadying our life as a Christian fellowship.

Paul Lederach passed away on Monday, January 6. Relatives and friends may call after 1:30 p.m., Saturday, January 11, 2014 at Blooming Glen Mennonite Church, 713 Blooming Glen Road, Blooming Glen, PA 18911. A Memorial Service will follow at 3:00 p.m. Interment will be in the church columbarium.

A pocket full of epiphany moments

January 7, 2014 by Emily Ralph Servant

by Ertell Whigham, Executive Minister

What comes to mind when you think of the word “epiphany?” For many of us, it has a significant meaning at this time of year and in the gift that we have received from God in Jesus Christ. For others, it reminds us of a time that we were enlightened, informed, or experienced some thoughtful understanding at a particular place in our lives.

However you may view the word “epiphany,” it should be connected with God. For me it is often very refreshing to realize that the Spirit brings knowledge to a place I seem to be unaware of; epiphany is something we need not only look for or express appreciation for doing this time of year, but is a gift that God gives us every moment of our lives in one form or another.

I believe that we serve and live under the care of a God who has a pocket full of epiphany moments for us when we long for clarity or enlightenment. Many of us we don’t expect much from God’s miracle gift of an epiphany. We tend to think that our training, education, or life experience is the source of our new knowledge or clarity.

Epiphany is more than just an awakening of our understanding. Epiphany, I believe, is a special light that shines from the Spirit of God into our hearts and minds to help us appreciate that God is still showing us new things. It is a special light that shows us not just a way but the way. For many of us, we hope to make it through the next project, decision, challenge, or test. It is important that we understand that God has already been where we’re going and if we choose or desire to have this special gift of light or epiphany, God is faithful to show us the way and enlighten our understanding.

As we think of this season we can certainly be overwhelmed with the exotic experience of what it means to join together in celebration with friends and family this Christmas season, or we can think of this as a foretaste of things to come throughout the year.

Waiting and working and hoping

December 19, 2013 by Emily Ralph Servant

by Stephen Kriss, director of leadership cultivation

The Spanish words meaning “to wait” (esperar) and “hope” (esperanza) suggest that there’s a ready connection between the two. We wait for something that we expect to happen. We don’t wait for things that we don’t anticipate will actually occur.

There are places designed for waiting (train stations, hospital waiting rooms, airports, the checkout line) and there are places where we unexpectedly end up waiting, where it’s less comfortable or hasn’t been prepared for the necessities of waiting (traffic tie ups, outside buildings). The places of unprepared waiting tend to create more agitation and desperation. After living in New York City for a few years, I’ve learned to prepare for unexpected waiting by carrying a book. Nowadays, with my iPhone, I’m always ready to work (or at least surf the web) while waiting.

Waiting with hope means that we expect something to happen. In Advent, we wait in anticipation of the arrival of Immanuel, God with us. I’d say that I anticipate God’s arrival most days, hope for it, spend a lot of my waking hours anticipating the Spirit’s arrival and incarnation in time and space. Sometimes I’m able to notice steps toward the fulfillment of God’s intention; other times I’m surprised by the sudden inbreaking and transformation. With the story of the birth of Christ, we have generations of preparation and months of incubation, but on one surprisingly normal and joyous night, “the anointed one” comes into flesh, bone, blood.

While I know that God is with us in all time, in all space, and in all spaces, there is something special that we wait for in Advent, some holy moment that we expect to see, feel, taste, maybe even touch. While Jesus warned us not to chase those moments, the sheep-tenders and the learned ones were provoked to come and bear witness to the Incarnation, to drop their work for a moment or to focus their skills for awhile toward the manger in Bethlehem, to witness, to be present, to offer gifts in worship.

I find waiting to be pretty annoying. But hoping can seem even more ridiculous. Believing that God is going to do something, to enter and transform what seems ordinary can be both difficult and at times unwelcome.

What we know about resiliency, however, is that to lose hope is to lose purpose. I’m not “a glass half empty” kind of guy, but I notice too often places where Christ’s presence is not quite yet: in the gaps between the privileged and the poor; in the spaces between loneliness and community; in the struggles for healing and wholeness; in the overwhelming sense of busyness that permeates privilege; in the spectrum from tradition to transformation. I see glimpses and sometimes full incarnations of the path of Immanuel too: in working across culture, language, and human boundaries to share resources with Mennonite partners in Allentown, Philadelphia and Norristown; in work with veterans; in seasonal congregational initiatives to share and worship with neighbors; in our learning to love all of the places and people that God loves.

Early Mennonite settlers in southeastern Pennsylvania often used the catch-phrase “work and hope” as they faced the struggles of persecution, migrating into the unknown, and finding their home in a new world. In our working (doing), I believe we’re waiting, too. In our working, we’re hoping and believing (some days more than others) that Christ came two millennia ago into crushing politics, often misguided religiosity, and hard economics, and that the Spirit of Christ might come again, through us, in us, to us, for us as much as for the whole world. With anticipation, we wait, we work, we hope.

Reflections on the Journey: celebrating the career of Noah Kolb

December 18, 2013 by Emily Ralph Servant

Noah Kolb's Open House — Noah and his wife Sara talk with their guests at the December 11 open house honoring Noah’s years of ministry. Photo by Emily Ralph

by Krista Showalter Ehst, Bally congregation

For Noah Kolb, the journey has moved in unexpected places, bringing challenges and blessings alike. Reflecting on a 45 year ministerial career—the most recent 14 of which he spent in Franconia Conference leadership—Noah says, “I could not have dreamed this path and in many ways it has felt like God has nudged and moved me along step by step.” As Noah anticipates his retirement years, he continues to experience those divine nudgings, offering words of wisdom from his ministerial work.

Noah was born and raised in a farming family in Spring City, Pa. He felt the call to ministry at a fairly young age, and this call was drawn out and affirmed by many people along the road. Noah names teachers, in-laws, mentors, and seminary professors at Goshen Biblical as central to discerning and following his call. Perhaps most significantly of all, Noah’s wife Sara has brought wisdom and counsel—as well as her own gifts of hospitality and relationship-building—that have helped Noah live into his calling. As he says, “I would not have wanted to do the journey without her.”

Noah and Sara Kolb — Noah and Sara were honored at the Credentialed Leaders Appreciation Dinner on December 2 with a fraktur by Roma Ruth. Photo by Emily Ralph.

That journey took Noah and his family to many different ministerial settings. He spent 24 years in pastoral ministry: beginning part time at Pottstown (Pa.) Mennonite, moving to Swamp congregation (Quakertown, Pa.) for 11 years, and then serving the Bellwood Congregation in Nebraska for 5 years. The leadership skills he exhibited during those years resulted in his call into conference ministry. After serving as the only Iowa-Nebraska conference minister for a number of years, he returned to the east coast. Jim Lapp, his brother-in-law and a former conference colleague, remembers that transition. “Noah’s strength as a leader arises from his lack of pretense and aspiration for recognition and a genuine humility and gentle spirit,” Jim shares. “It was his strong churchmanship and character that led us to call him in 2000 to serve as part of the Conference Ministry Team [of Franconia Conference].”

Conference ministry brought its own set of challenges and learnings. For Noah, one significant area of growth was in conflict management. Noah grew up with very little understanding of conflict and became quite anxious when faced with it. As a pastor and conference minister, however, he was quick to realize that “wherever you have two or three gathered, there will be conflict.” Noah worked hard to wrestle with his aversion to conflict and to develop a non-anxious presence. He tried to create safe spaces where people could gather to talk and to share openly about their differences. As is so often the case, Noah remembers his times of helping congregations to move through conflict as some of the most difficult and rewarding moments of his career.

Noah and Bobby — Noah discusses life and ministry with Bobby Wibowo (Philadelphia Praise Center) at the 2013 Conference Assembly. Photo by Bam Tribuwono.

As he’s worked alongside congregations, Noah has realized the importance of building relationships. He believes leaders cannot be effective without building trust with their congregations. Undoubtedly shaped by the many mentors in his own life, Noah has worked to build this trust by prioritizing one-on-one relationships with pastors, taking the time to listen to their stories and to know them more deeply. One leader who has benefited from this relational approach is , currently leading Peace Proclamation Ministries International in India and a member of Plains congregation, where Noah and Sara also attend. “Noah has energized me with his natural ability as a servant leader,” says. “I have seen and experienced in him the qualities of gentleness and love.”

As he moves into retirement, Noah continues to model gentleness, strength, relationality, and the willingness to listen in the midst of difference. “We live with a lot of judgment towards each other and we don’t know how to receive and accept each other graciously as brothers and sisters in Christ even with our diversity,” Noah reflects. “One of my deep convictions is that we need to work at a greater understanding of God’s grace and mercy—that God has received and uses us amazingly in our brokenness and that we can extend that grace to one another as brothers and sisters in Christ. My deep yearning is that we can somehow learn to do that much better—not a sense that anything goes, but an extending of mercy and grace and compassion to each other in the midst of our brokenness.”

Noah and Nancy — MC USA Conference Minister Nancy Kauffmann joins Franconia Executive Minister Ertell Whigham and Eastern District Conference Minister Warren Tyson to pray for Noah at Conference Assembly 2013. Photo by Bam Tribuwono.

While Noah has faced challenges in the last few years of ministry as he struggled with failing vision, his care and giftedness as a pastor to leaders has continued to shine through. “While it is indeed true that he is having a struggle with his physical eyesight, the spiritual eyesight of my brother continues to grow,” said Ertell Whigham, Franconia’s Executive Minister, at the 2013 Conference Assembly in November. “[Noah is] able to see the needs and the care and the encouragement and the guidance and the wisdom that our brothers and sisters who serve in ministry need. And so, while indeed there may be some struggles with [his] physical eyesight, I thank God for [his] spiritual eyesight…. I have truly been transformed through our intercultural interaction.”

Waiting for transformation

December 11, 2013 by Emily Ralph Servant

by Jenifer Eriksen Morales, LEADership Minister

In an instant, my resin flocked Koala bear figurine was transformed: accidently knocked off my dresser and crushed beneath my cousin’s feet while we played.

Tearfully, I scooped up the pieces and brought them to my Pop Pop. He gave me a hug. “I can’t fix this, Jen. The pieces are too small. Look—some have turned to dust.”

I cried louder. Pop took pity. “I’ll fix it.”

Comforted, I waited expectantly for the return of my Koala…at first. But in typical kid-manner, before long I forgot about it.

A month or so later, my grandparents came to visit and I was surprised when Pop Pop handed me my transformed Koala. The poor Koala was in one piece but it most definitely was not the figurine it used to be: it was patched together and disfigured, the hardened and lumpy putty patching my grandfather made was not a perfect color match, and there was no velvety flocking where the patches were. I pray my disappointment did not show in my face as I politely said, “thank you,” and took the Koala to my room.

Later that day I overheard my grandma talking to my mom. “He stayed up for nights sweating bullets over that crazy bear,” she said. I was instantly both humbled and excited to realize that Pop Pop would sweat and lose sleep just for me.

The Koala was once again transformed into one of my most beloved possessions. I was transformed too. My Pop Pop’s sweat worked like streams in the desert of my life. He kept his promise and did his best for me, even when I didn’t really care. I knew that I was loved.

Jen's pop pop — Jenifer with her husband Victor and her Pop Pop on his 100th birthday.

I love the season of advent when we look forward to Christmas, celebrating Christ’s first coming and reminding ourselves that Christ is coming again—indeed He comes to us continually. With Isaiah, I am filled with vision and hope as I anticipate the blooming of the desert, the strengthening of the weak, and the everlasting joy and gladness that will come to God’s people as they travel on “The Holy Way” (chapter 35). Oh, what transformation the people of Israel hoped for and oh, what transformation is to come!

At the same time, we live in a world experiencing constant transformation. Sometimes transformation is expected and welcomed. We watch it unfold like spring or healing after a long illness: the blooming of the desert. Other times we watch with horror as transformation comes, like when hurricane Haiyan stormed through the Philippines. In the aftermath of such tragedy or injustice, there are times when we, like Nelson Mandela, are challenged to notice and work toward transformation. I once heard someone say, “It’s wonderful to watch a miracle unfold, but it’s even better to help a miracle unfold.”

Mary and Elizabeth helped their miracles unfold. As I live in the “already and not yet” of this advent season, I am inspired by the gospel of Luke’s portrayal of these miracle-bearing cousins. Though I am sure their lives were not easy, the courage and faith of Mary and Elizabeth remind me that I am humbled and called and blessed to participate in the already and not yet plan of God. With Isaiah, Mary, and Elizabeth, I look forward to the transformation promised in fulfillment of what was spoken by the Lord. I also wonder how God might be calling me and others in Franconia Conference to participate in the miracle of transformation in our relationships, community, or world.

I pray I will not get so caught up in the busy-ness of life that I forget to keep my baptismal promise as Christ’s disciple to convey the life and love of Jesus—Immanuel, God with us. May I, like my Pop Pop, help the miracle of transformation unfold by sharing God’s love in simple and practical ways with hearts that may not even be fully aware they are waiting.

Into the Cave: Men and Spiritual Direction

December 5, 2013 by Emily Ralph Servant

by Keith Lyndaker Schlabach, Peace Fellowship Church (Washington D.C.),
a Franconia Conference Partner in Mission
Reposted by permission of Mennonite Church USA

We are in a cave.

We are men on retreat. Our leader has brought us to this place deep underground. He has made one simple request. We are to turn off our lights. We do so and discover that there is no darkness like the darkness beneath the earth.

As is often the case, I feel many questions moving inside of me. Should I reach out blindly and touch the brother nearest me? Should I be still? Should I continue to sit in silence? Should I give voice to the song rising up from my belly?

So I sit in silence, listening to the noise of my inner turmoil and confusion.

But the song remains.

So I begin to sing.

“Amazing grace . . .”

The melody fills the tiny room of stone. The words seem to rise up and hang in the blackness of the ceiling.

The song ends.

The silence returns.

I wonder if I did right.

A brother begins to weep. His sobs fill the space around us where the song once was.

Later he tells us why, sharing some struggles and giving credit to the song for releasing him. His story helps the rest of us to share. Somehow, in this cave of confusion, grace has broken through.

When we crawl back out into the light, the muddy earth drying on our skin, we are changed men.

The man who led us into and out of that cave long ago is now my spiritual director. Once a month we revisit that “cave” and sit together within its sacred confines. He listens as I describe the struggle to be a man of integrity in this day and age. He creates a space for me to continue the journey of being honest and vulnerable with others, especially other men.

He encourages me to continue to resist the temptation to fill the void inside with the temporal. He challenges me to respect those around me, especially women. He helps me reflect on whether what I do is out of ego or love. He gives me leave to sit with the questions, to hold them and myself with gentleness and grace.

Slowly I am learning when to be silent.

And when to gather the darkness close to me like a comforting cloak, lift my voice to the rock around me, and sing.

Waiting for the day of Jesus

December 4, 2013 by Emily Ralph Servant

by John Stoltzfus, Conference Youth Minister

I am confident of this: that the one who began a good work in you
will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.

As a parent, I often impatiently wait for the next stage in my children’s lives. As in, I can’t wait until they are peeing in a potty rather than on the carpet or I can’t wait until they move beyond the thrashing-on-the-floor-tantrum stage! In other words, I can’t wait until they grow up. Parents of older children tell me to cherish every stage. I sometimes wonder if their memories are faulty!

The season of Advent is filled with exhortations to wait. We remember the waiting for the coming day of the promised Messiah. We practice the discipline of waiting for the day of Jesus Christ. We seek to live into the holy rhythms of Kairos time, waiting for the right time of God’s appearing, rather than Chronos time, a calendar of our own agenda.

The Advent text of Isaiah 40:3-5 repeated by John the Baptist speaks of “preparing the way of the Lord” and “making straight in the desert a highway for our God.” Our journey of transformation into mature Christian adults sometimes feels like a never ending highway construction project. We all know the joy of waiting through road projects: first there is anticipation as road signs appear, indicating that one can expect traffic delays beginning on a certain date. Then lanes are diverted, flashing lights are hung, rough pavement develops, and we endure months and months of traffic jams, bumpy roads, and alternate routes. It is a laborious process frequently overrunning the initial deadline, costing many resources and much patience.

What if we were to view our own lives and our life as a faith community as a continual road construction project? I sometimes wonder if all of our churches should have a large yellow sign at the entrance reading: Caution: Never Ending Reconstruction Work Ahead. This holy mess is church. Writer Ed Cyzewski recently tweeted: “That’s church. Just gotta pick which HOT MESS is your favorite.”

I confess that I get impatient with the never-ending work of transformation in the church; I tire of waiting for more of Christ to be revealed in us. Everywhere I look, I see places that have yet to experience the salvation and peace of God: divisions in the body yet to be reconciled; relationships yet to be mended; forgiveness yet to be released; welcome yet to be extended; brokenness yet to be healed; addictions yet to be kicked.

Sometimes I fear that God will lose patience with me. I am prone to wander. I am prone to doubt. I am prone to move forward without acknowledging God’s presence. I am like that road rebuilding project which has a completion date that keeps on getting delayed. Yet we are to regard God’s patience with us as our saving grace. Yes, the work is slow, but we are invited to continue to imagine a different future.

The writer of Philippians imagined with a long-term view: “I am confident of this: that the one who began a good work in you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.” This involves a patient and faithful waiting. In view of God’s grand salvation story, we have the courage to embark on the long road of repentance and change where we tear up the old and lay down the new. At the same time, knowledge of the tender mercies of our God gives us the grace to cherish and accept each other today, even in our unfinished state.

In this time of waiting and anticipation, we do know what is required of us: to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God and one another. If we say that we can wait with one another today, then can we wait with one another tomorrow, and the day after, and the next? And, if this is so, can we wait with one another until the day of Jesus?

As we wait together, this is my hope and prayer:

“By the tender mercy of our God,
the dawn from on high will break upon us,
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace.” Luke 1:78-79

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