Tod Bolsinger

Playing along with the Interview Game

I volunteered to be interviewed by Rebecca of Rebecca Writes.   If you want to participate, the instructions follow my answers to the questions Rebecca asks of me. 

1. How long have you liked the Puritans?
When I was working on a Ph.D. on the trinitarian basis of spirituality, I started finding a lot of great Puritan writings through people like Charles Hambrick-Stowe, who wrote a fine article, "Reformed Spirituality: Dimensions of Puritan Devotional Practice," (Journal of Presbyterian History 58:1, Spring 1980) that I mined for all it’s worth. I spent a quarter doing research at the Huntington Library in Pasadena and wrote a paper called, “The Spirituality of the Householder”.  It was sheer delight and I ended up “minoring” in historical theology on the Puritans.

2. Who is your favorite Puritan?
Ah. Good question.  Kind of depends on my mood.  Anne Bradstreet’s poetry is so tender and poignant, Cotton Mather’s preaching is both ornery and passionate, Richard Baxter’s Reformed Pastor is one of the classics, and Jonathan Edwards, is, well, Jonathan Edwards (if you consider him a Puritan, not everyone does.)  Oh, by the way, great article about Puritans here.

3. What's the best thing about being a pastor?
Every day I do something really significant even if nobody ever notices (and they mostly don’t). In the words of Eugene Peterson,  I deal with the “mystery of God and the mess of humans.”  And both are a privilege.

4. What's the best book you've read in the last 12 months?
Funniest, most irreverant, (but amazingly not heretical) was Lamb: The Gospel according to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal by Christopher Moore.  I liked Gates of Fire by Stephen Pressfield,  re-read Shogun by James Clavell, and found Jon Krakauer’s book on Mormon fundamentalism called Under the Banner of Heaven both disturbing and hard to put down.   On the more edifying side, I think everyone should read NT Wright’s books, The Challenge of Jesus and What Saint Paul Really Said. And more people should read Mark Roberts' book Dare to be True and then live it out.

5. If you had to live outside the U.S. for a year, where would you choose to live?
Slam dunk: New Zealand. But I’d fly there by way of Italy and the Alps.

Here's how you can play the interview game:

1. Leave me a comment saying “interview me.” The first five commentators will be the participants.
2. I will respond by asking you five questions.
3. You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions. (Write your own questions or borrow some.)

It's kind of interesting... so give it a whirl.

Every Friday for (Almost) Every Preacher

(What they didn't teach us in homiletics classes...)

Thanks to Derek for this laugher...

Church Musings

Since this blog site, my first book and my calling and passion in life is for the church to be what God it to be, it's seems appropriate to start a new recurring post of links about church. 

I will call it Church Musings to give credit to the plethora of muses that inspire the conversation. This section will be all "church stuff."  Church experiences good and bad, the benefits and troubles of church.  If you know of a good link or posts somewhere out there in the blogosphere, let me know.  I'll link to it.

So here are three to get you started.  Amanda Witt posts about the way small churches can be the only place shy people can be themselves. Steve Norris shares his struggles with trying to find the perfect church.  And 21st Century reformation takes up the compelling idea of the church as the "morally beautiful community" in this sermon on the DNA of the church. 

Of course, I will also link to those who have struggled with church and are trying to figure out how to be a Christian with or without the formal community.  See this comment by Becky to one of my recent posts. 

You be the muse, I'll post the musings...

Slow Starting

“If you must be in a hurry, then let it be according to the old adage, and hasten slowly.” --St. Vincent de Paul

Hasten slowly.  That is the paradoxical spiritual discipline that I want you to consider practicing with me this Lenten season: Practice hastening slowly.

So, what do I mean by this?  I mean that we should pay attention when the race of life turns into the rat race.  (As Lily Tomlin said, “Even if you win the rat race, you’re still a rat.”)

We should pay attention to the difference between hastening to what is important, and hurrying after what is not.  Between hastening to hug, to care, to forgive and to serve and hurrying around frazzled, distracted and spent.  Between being busy as an outward reality and being hurried as an inner state of being. As John Ortberg wrote: “Jesus was often busy but he was never hurried. Being busy is an outer condition; being hurried is a sickness of the soul.”

So, let’s consider how we add breath to our haste, how we create a rhythm for living--even when busy--that includes slow, focused, lingering moments of prayer, of attention, of love. 

First, begin the day slowly…

Many of us start our days by hitting snooze.  By the time we get out of bed we are already 15 minutes late.  The rest of the day is nothing but a rush to catch up.  I have begun thinking about my day ahead.  And if it is particularly busy, starting it even more slowly.  I begin most of my days a good hour before any one else in our house wakes up.  This is my time to putter, to pray, and to ponder.  I get up, I make myself coffee, I check my email.  I then settle into my favorite chair to read, pray and doing some writing.  This slow start is the key to my whole day.  When I skip it, I spend the day rushing from one thing to another.

This idea of beginning the day slowly was reinforced for me when I started doing in endurance training for triathlons, marathons and century bike rides last year.  I soon learned that longer you are going to ride or the harder you are going to run, the slower and easier you needed to begin that ride or run.  In endurance training the rule is if you want to go fast later, go slow earlier.  Build a strong base, warm up, start slowly. In many ways, that is what the group of us who fill our church's Stephen's Chapel each Friday morning in Lent are doing.  One day a week, we are coming together in a candlelit chapel, spending 30 minutes listening to music in prayerful contemplation.  And then for 30 more minutes we practice Lectio Divina together, considering the sermon text for the following Sunday.

So, here is the first thing to practice: begin the day slowly.  And let me add, even if you have to start the night before.  Start slowing down as the sun goes down.  Think of your day as starting at sun down the night before. 

This is, as some of you know, the Jewish way of counting a day.  Sabbath starts on sundown and continues until the next sundown.  It is a deeply biblical way of thinking about our days.  It means that the day begins with going to sleep.  The day begins with resting.  God is the one who works all day and then stands guard all night.  Only God.  Humans have to have a rhythm of rest.  Indeed, when God became a human, Jesus slept just like the rest of us.)

Psalm 121:3
He will not let you stumble and fall;
       the one who watches over you will not sleep. (NLT)

Psalm 127:2
It is useless for you to work so hard from early morning until late at night, anxiously working for food to eat; for God gives rest to his loved ones.

A Great Poem for a gray day

The Witts at Wittingshire have become a favorite, favorite read.  One of my friends at church (an engineer no less) told me that because of them, he is now reading poetry.

This offering from Gerard Manley Hopkins will quickly make you see why reading poetry and the Witts blog is always a good use of time.

New Blog...what's with the Dog?

A new blog of an old friend can be found at "RevKaseDoggy." 

KC has a pretty different perspective than most of us "old" Presbyterian pastors (isn't that redundant?  The fact that I tend to think of "dog" as an insult shows just how ancient I am becoming.  Oh, for the days where "Boss" was the standard for "cool."  Suddenly I miss "The Fonz.")

Any way, growing up in Hollywood, KC had more ministry experience and street smarts by the time he was 20 than most people get in a lifetime.  He got his MDiv at Princeton and still came back an evangelical (which just goes to show how truly tough he is.)

Go by his blog, welcome him to the blogosphere and tell him his "old" college pastor sent you. 

Hastening Slowly through the Rain

I am in the middle of a longer series on "communal spiritual disciplines" and the focus this week is on "the spiritual discipline of slowing down." 

In southern California this week, the El Nino storm pattern is both reminding me of why I don't live in Portland or Seattle and also helping me to practice "slowing down".  I can't even get outside for a long run. Sheesh.

To get this conversation going, here's an excerpt from yesterday's sermon. I'll hit some practical steps for the spiritual discipline of slowing down over the next few days.  The storm's going to stay around, so there seems no need to rush through this.

A couple of years ago, one of my neighbors was driving past my house and stopped his car and rolled down his window.  A genial guy whose kids have long been involved in our church programs, I can always count on this guy for a friendly smile and hearty wave. 

Seeing that he wanted to chat a bit I walked down to the curb and said hello.  “Hey,” he called out, “Pastor Tod, do you know what your nickname is around our house?” 

I shook my head, wondering if I really wanted to know.  “We don’t call you Pastor Tod, we call you ‘Faster Tod’ because of the way you drive by our house when you take the kids to school.” 

We chuckled and his tone was light, but his point was made.  I really needed to slow down.  Today, I want to talk about the spiritual discipline of “slowing down”. 

And as that little story told you, I am probably the most in need of hearing this talk of all.  I am confessing this up front, because I don’t need any of the guys who have skied with me to think I am a hypocrite. 

I admit it.  I drive fast, I ski fast, I eat fast.  Heck, people tell me I even talk fast.  The truth is: I have a need for speed.

I love riding my bike with the wind at my back and feeling strong and sleek and powerful.  Taking turns in my private peleton of partners, drafting and pulling and going faster together than I ever could alone.

I love the feeling of careening down a powdery slope with nothing but the sound of the wind through my helmet and the squeeking of dry snow under my skis.  I love when my eyes water and my nose runs, when my lip are frozen in a wide smile on my face and the endorphins are pulsing through my veins. 

But I hate when I have to rush out the door just to squeeze in a bike ride in an already overcrowded day.  I hate rushing through the parking lot of a ski resort, trying to get kids and equipment to the lift lines, trying to get gloves on hands, and boots on feet and snacks in stomachs all the while the time is slipping by.  I hate the feeling that I am on vacation and all I am doing is yelling at my kids "Hurry up! We're going to be late for all the fun!". 

I love to race through life.  But I hate being rushed.  I have a need for speed, but I hate being in a hurry.  And what one pastor calls “hurry-sickness” is I believe one of the spiritual diseases of our day. 

In what is now a classic article in pastoral circles, John Ortberg, the preaching minister at Menlo Park Presbyterian Church wrote of a conversation he had when he called an older, wise spiritual friend:

“What did I need to do, I asked him, to be spiritually healthy?
Long pause.
"You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life," he said at last.
Another long pause.
"Okay, I've written that one down," I told him, a little impatiently. "That's a good one. Now what else is there?" I had many things to do, and this was a long-distance call, so I was anxious to cram as many units of spiritual wisdom into the least amount of time possible.
Another long pause.
"There is nothing else," he said. "You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life."

That is the next spiritual discipline that I want us to learn from Jesus as we go through this Lent.  Jesus himself had a lot to do, but he was never in a hurry.  So again, we can take his yoke and learn from him.  Listening to his Word, yielding to his Spirit with in us, encouraged by his people around us, we can learn a deeper, healthier rhythm of living.

A hurried life is a harried life.  Rushing through our days can become addictive and that our spiritual lives requires rhythms that include deliberate slowness.

I understand that we are busy, active people who are packing a lot of life into living, who want our lives to matter, who want our days to count, who want to make a difference, who want the time spent on this earth to be significant and meaningful.  I understand that we are busy. 

We can’t just eliminate the responsibilities and opportunities that necessitate our moving so quickly.  We don’t live in an environment where the pace is slow.  And many of us are in a season of life that is just going to move more quickly than even we would like.  So, how can we “ruthlessly eliminate hurry from our lives”?  How can we practice and be changed by the spiritual discipline of slowing down?

Try on this maxim from Saint Vincent de Paul, the 17th century French priest whose name is synonymous in Catholic circles with an ardent zeal and a passion for helping the poor:  “If you must be in a hurry, then let it be according to the old adage, and hasten slowly.” 

Trying to practice "hastening slowly" is what this week will be all about.  Hope to see you tomorrow.

The Spiritual Discipline of Slowing Down

"Hurry is not of the devil; hurry is the devil."—Carl Jung

Mark 6:30-34
30 The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. 31 He said to them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. 32 And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. 33 Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. 34 As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things. (NRSV)

In a now classic article in Leadership Journal, John Ortberg wrote a reflection on the text for my sermon Sunday.  It serves as a fine introduction to a longer discussion of our next Lenten spiritual discipline.

During one hectic season of ministry, Mark notes of the disciples, "For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat."
Far too many people involved in ministry think of this as a life verse, as if God will reward the hectic one day with, "What a life you had! Many were coming and going, and you had no leisure even to eat. Well done!"
Not quite. Jesus was aware of this problem, and he constantly withdrew from crowds and activities. He taught the same to his followers. In one instance, when they returned from a busy time of ministry, filled with adrenaline, he told them, "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while."
If you want to follow someone, you can't go faster than the one who is leading; following Jesus cannot be done at a sprint. Jesus was often busy but he was never hurried. Being busy is an outer condition; being hurried is a sickness of the soul.
Jesus never went about the busyness of his ministry in a way that severed the life-giving connection between himself and his Father.
He never did it in a way that interfered with his ability to give love when that was what was called for. He observed a regular rhythm of withdrawal from activity, for solitude and prayer.

Exploring that rhythm is exactly what the “communal spiritual discipline of slowing down” is all about. Hope you'll join me this week.

Give Back the Table

My friend, covenant group brother and fellow pastor Craig Williams goes on a cool theological rant about "Putting the Community back in Communion" here.  I added an "Amen" comment and description of how we celebrated "Home Communions" at SCPC (with COM approval, no less!) I would love to further the conversation.

I think this one is really important. I wrote about it extensively in It Takes a Church to Raise a Christian, but Craig sweetens the stew with a great quote from C. S. Lewis.

Real and Regular Religion

Another excerpt from Show Time: Living Down Hypocrisy by Living Out the Faith on "Showing up Regularly and Really".  Show Time was just honored by The Discerning Reader as one of the top 50 books of 2004. 

In college, I had a writing professor who said that in order to be a good writer one had to be religious about grammar.  He believed that unless you bound yourself to the rules of grammar, and practiced then every time you wrote something, then you would never develop the clear prose and clean syntax that makes for effective writing.  My writing prof understood that to be a good writer, one needed to bind one self, to commit oneself to the rules and discipline of writing, and that those rules and discipline needed to be practiced regularly, religiously. 

Let me ask you something: Based on what you do most regularly, what are you most religious about?  Some of us are religious about work, some of us are religious about exercise, some of us religious about reading the Wall Street Journal, and hopefully all of us are religious about hygiene.  Whatever you do regularly, whatever you order your life around, what ever sets the pattern of your life or binds your time is frankly, according to this definition, your religion. 

So let me challenge you to this binding commitment.  Be religious about this, let this order your life and regulate your living.  Make it a rule of your life.  A regular part of everything you do: Show up.  Show up, religiously.  Show up regularly. 

Once we realize that our religious life is nothing but a humble response to God wherever we are, then we understand that God is always, always, always reaching out to us, calling us to him, inviting us to listen and learn from him.  And godliness is nothing more than answering the call and showing up. 

Now I don’t just mean showing up to worship, though that is a pretty clear Biblical command.  And I don’t mean showing up with false fronts and fake prayers, and church manners.  What I mean is that for faith to work, we must show up before God as we really are as often as possible.  We must come before him and hold nothing back.  Whether we come with doubts and struggles, whether it is in public or at church, make the habit of bringing your real self before the real God regularly in worship, in prayer and in confession. 

In Hendrick’s Exit Interviews we learn that when people leave the church it most often because they are unable to find some genuine community, and they are going looking for it.  People desperately want an authentic spiritual community.  They want to be part of a place that is real, humble and devout.  They came to church to be with true believers, those who are genuinely and authentically devout. 

And that is why it is not enough to focus only on our own character, our own inner faith.  For faith to make a difference in a world of people looking for real encounter with God, the entire church must be different. 

In her ground-breaking book, The Shelter of Each Other, psychologist Mary Pipher tells of how the “toxic” culture that is fueled by the media, consumerism and the breakdown of extended family has led to the widespread and pervasive pain of the same dysfunctions that are rampant in urban centers.  Pipher believes that the remedy is not just helping individual people work through painful issues, but is the restoration of a sense of community where we “shelter each other” through deep relationships, authentic commitment and a commitment to stand together to challenge the destructive values of our culture. 

As a pastor, I believe that this is exactly the role of the church.  We are not just to be a hospital for broken people, but also a Community of health and wholeness.  The church is not primarily a institution, but an organism where we are “members one of another” (Romans 12:5).  What we have to offer the world is not just right doctrine, or life-changing experience, but a Community grounded in the truth, experiencing the encounter of God and sharing the support to live differently in a the world that is “corrupted by lust.”

At this point in the journey we are intentionally beginning to acknowledge that Christianity is not a solo endeavor.  And those who make the most difference in the world are not just individual saints, but godly communities. 

“Just as I am, Just as We are”

Imagine the difference if those of us who have learned to come to Jesus “just as I am” started coming to church “just as I am.”  Imagine how different would be the quality of worship, the sincerity of our fellowship, the authenticity of our friendships, the care for our guests, if each of us was dedicated to coming before God “just as I am.”  No fakery, no desire to impress anyone else, just our humble real selves living before God’s face whether at church or in public all the time.  Let what we sing about Jesus be true about Jesus’ people...

“Just as I am, tho tossed about with many a conflict, many a doubt, fightings and fears within, without, O lamb of God, I come."

That seems pretty real to me.

Tomorrow we start preparing for our next spiritual discipline in the series: "Slowing Down"