Mosaic Mennonites

Missional - Intercultural - Formational

formational

A pocket full of epiphany moments

by

Ertell Whighamby 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

by

Steve Krissby 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

by

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

by

Jen's koalaby 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

by

Keith Lyndaker Schlabachby 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

by

John M Stoltzfusby 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

MCC International Volunteers: Impacting the World

by

Kaputa_Madalitsoby Millie Penner, Mennonite Central Committee East Coast

“We eat together, sing together in both English and Chichewa, go on our nightly walks together, and laugh together like a family of hyenas,” says Eric Bishop of his family’s relationship with Madalitso Kaputa. Eric and Linda Bishop, Souderton congregation, have opened their home to Madalitso, a participant in the International Volunteer Exchange Program (IVEP). IVEP is a program of Mennonite Central Committee (MCC) that brings young adults from other countries to live and work in Canada and the United States for a year. Madalitso is far from his home in Malawi, Africa this year, yet clearly he also has found a family with the Bishops.

During the day Madalitso volunteers at the Dock Woods and Dock Meadows campuses (Lansdale, Pa.) of the Living Branches retirement community. It is clear to his host family and both his supervisors that this work is far more than a short term volunteer assignment. For Madalitso, this work is a part of the calling God has on his life, a calling he works to fulfill with joy and passion. He says, “When I first arrived in the United States, the food, the time change and the people were all new to my life, and I wondered if I would be able to hold on to my sense of mission. But after a month, I feel like I’m at home as my wonderful host family has helped me to remember my mission goal. Through my work at Dock Woods and Dock Meadows, I have come to understand the great call that the church has in taking care of people, especially the elderly. Indeed, this is now the time that the church should be inviting and welcoming all the elderly into her caring and protective service as the salt and light of the world.”

Gerry Moore, who supervises Madalitso at Dock Meadows, agrees that he is focused and effective. “He is eager to visit with each resident and learn their stories. He wants them to know they have a life time of experience to share, a wealth of wisdom and much he can learn from them.”

Dock Meadows and Dock Woods have hosted IVEPers for several years and have seen good fruit from the cross-cultural exchanges that happen through this program. Eileen Burks of Dock Woods says, “A resident just received an email from one of our past IVEPers from Indonesia. They have been in contact for over seven years, and this clearly is one of many great bonds that were formed through this program. Another way that we are enriched is when the IVEPer brings the world to our residents through a cultural class, sharing about their country … family, faith, foods and languages.”

Madalitso will take many gifts with him when he leaves the IVEP program, not the least of which is a better sense of the world community. Linda Bishop, his host mother, says that he already refers to the world as his home, not just Malawi, since he is willing to go wherever God sends him.

And Madalitso will leave just as many gifts with those whose lives he touches here in Pennsylvania. Living Branches residents, his supervisors and his host family will have formed many good memories, relationships and connections that will last a lifetime.

From there to here: a story of community

by

Ambler_Stationby Jenny Duskey, Ambler congregation

I came back from Mennonite Church USA Convention in July feeling challenged and uncomfortable, the kind of feeling that means I need to do something.  In Phoenix, I’d prayed about how to respond to a drone center coming to our area.   I went to the next protest.  Still, I remained uncomfortable.

Then I experienced what turned out to be a blessing, though it didn’t seem so at first.  My car was damaged in a parking lot, and the body shop needed it for a few days.  My husband and I, both retired, volunteer regularly at different places, all too far to reach on foot.  In the Philadelphia area, senior citizens ride trains for eighty-five cents and buses free.  I could get where I needed to go without renting a car.

My habit had been to drive anywhere too far to walk, using public transportation only when I couldn’t drive.  What an irrational routine: a two-mile exercise walk, a quick stop at home, and a drive to my destination, spewing pollutants into the atmosphere.  No wonder I’d felt uncomfortable!  When my car returned, I found I couldn’t go back to my old ways.  The Holy Spirit has turned my thinking upside down; I now use public transportation whenever possible.

When I drove, my car isolated me.  Now, no longer isolated, I relate to others.  I’m reducing pollution only a little, but my sense of community is growing a lot. Here are a few illustrations.

After church, I walked to the train.  Two teen-aged boys, acting silly, as teens do at times, passed me.  At the station I noticed an elderly man with a cane.  I began to check email on my phone.   A voice said, “Hey, old man, give me all your money, or I’ll beat you up!”  I hid my phone away and looked up.  Standing by the old man was one of the teens I’d seen.  I got my phone out again, thinking of calling 911.  Should I try to talk the boy out of it or would that make it worse?

Then the old man spoke, “Where are you going?”  The boy answered.  The old man said, “Man, you’d better get out of here and cross the tracks.”

“I’ve got time,” the boy laughed.  “How’ve you been?”

My heart started beating again; they knew each other.  The boy had been joking; as I returned home, I pondered my reactions and assumptions.

Often there are not enough conductors on the trains to punch all the tickets.  I don’t want to cheat, so I try to find a conductor on the platform to take my ticket.  Once, he refused, saying,   “Use it another day.”  I responded that with his permission, I guessed I would.

Once, the conductor shortage was potentially more serious.  At my stop there was no conductor in sight as I stepped down toward the platform.  A blind woman with a dog started up the same stairs.  I knew I couldn’t move back in time, so I called out, “I’m coming down.”  She backed up.  As I walked past her, I said, “It’s clear now.”

A conductor stood motioning for her to move to the next door.  She kept walking toward the stairs.  “She’s blind,” I told him, “she can’t see you.”  He kept gesturing.  I called to the woman, “The conductor wants you to move to the next door.”  She moved, but not far enough, stopping right in front of the opening between two cars.  She lifted her foot to climb onto the first step, but her foot was over the track, which lay a few feet below.  Knowing it’s not acceptable to touch a blind person, but afraid she’d fall, I put my hand on her arm.  She turned toward me immediately to tell me loudly to stop.  My emotions were a jumble.  I reacted as I usually do when yelled at, hurting inside, but also felt immensely relieved that she had turned back.  Her dog steered her back to the stairs.  The conductor no longer gestured as she stepped up.  I shed tears of relief as I walked home.

When I was driving most places, I rarely related to anyone on the way.  My car isolated me.  Now, the trains, the stations, and the buses bring me closer to the people who share this place in which I live.  No longer isolated, I see them as the human beings they are, and they see me the same way, picking up my ticket when I’d dropped it, getting up to let me sit down on the bus, and, in one case, asking me if an umbrella on the shelf above me was mine, and when I said it wasn’t, exchanging sympathy for whoever had lost it.

One day, an excited little boy asked his father one question after another about the train, where it went, when it would come, how it stayed on the tracks, what made it move, and so on.  He and his family wore Phillies hats or shirts.  Someone asked him if he was going to the ball game.  He grinned, nodded, and asked if we were going to the game, too.  Soon each of us knew the others’ destinations and we all wished each other a safe journey. I expect I was not the only one to board the train with a warm feeling of commonality and a little extra joy.