This past Sunday, one of our synod staff visited and shared a message with the congregation on stewardship. His Children’s sermon, which also touched basis on the topic, has been bouncing around in my head since then. The preacher encouraged the children to think about the many blessings in their life (e.g. a special skill, family and friends, belongings), and how they could each share those with others as a means of being good stewards of what God has given them. I’ve heard numerous pastors say it before, and I share the opinion: a good Children’s sermon is one that not only addresses the young audience (as it should), but also ripples outward to get the parents and other adults thinking as well. So, alongside his longer sermon for us all, these words on blessings have been percolating in my mind for a few days now. The preacher told us all that when the word ‘stewardship’ is mentioned, most often people’s minds immediately go to ‘money.’ (I agree with this observation, both as one who has heard sermons on stewardship and one who tries to draw others to think about the topic.) Yet, whether he meant to or not, through his Children’s sermon our synod staff member offered a thought-provoking first step in reorienting our thinking about stewardship—one that begins not with scarcity but abundance, one that focuses well beyond money alone, one that is rooted in generosity and gratitude: acknowledging blessings.
       As I’ve been thinking pastorally about how to discuss stewardship in more organic/inspiring/encouraging and less demanding/threatening/guilting ways, I’m convinced that I must begin with myself before I ever look at what or how another person should seek to grow in this area of discipleship. (I think the feeling by many in the church, overall, is that how can a pastor get up and talk about giving if they themselves are not demonstrating it firsthand. Right or wrong, this thought is propelling me forward in being more open and honest about my personal downfalls and yet gradual learnings with how to be a more faithful steward of the gifts with which I’ve been entrusted.) Therefore, as I think about acknowledging blessings as the first step in stewardship, I want to share a couple gifts of mine—not to boast or brag about what I have, but simply to give thanks to God and begin considering how I can steward these, among other, gifts in faithful service to the Lord. First and foremost, I give thanks to God for my family. My wife, our son, my parents and siblings, my wife’s family, our extended relatives, and those who may not be related by blood but have served in familial ways—all of these people, more names than I can list out, are daily blessings for me. The love and support I have received from them along the way, the compassion and forgiveness they have shared and shown to me on countless occasions, the guidance and examples I have received from many who have helped to shape me into the person that I am—all of these are blessings without compare. These people are each and altogether blessings for which my life would not be the same without. Second, I give thanks to God for the gifts of conversation and consolation. Martin Luther talked about “the mutual conversation and consolation of brothers and sisters” as being one way in which the gospel is shared. Ministry done by anyone—clergy and laity, pastor or people alike—is done fundamentally in the building and nurturing of relationships, otherwise tended to by mutual conversation and consolation. When I reflect on my ministry as a pastor of two rural churches in Nebraska—though I’m continually learning and growing in it—I consider a huge part of what I do on a daily basis to be talking with people and comforting them along life’s journey. If it weren’t for God filling me with the Holy Spirit, so as to listen attentively, relate with people, and speak words of care, compassion, and comfort, I would be unable to tend to those in need as I feel I have been called in my pastoral vocation. Lastly (for the sake of blogpost brevity), I give thanks to God for the opportunity to work and, through my compensation, being able to provide for my family, live comfortably, and have an abundance to share with others in generosity. Serving as a pastor doesn’t mean (in most cases) making millions, but I’ll be honest, more days than not I wake up and think to myself: “I am truly blessed that I not only get to work in a job that is fulfilling, but it also provides for my family and I.” To work in a job that is personally fulfilling, serves others, and is compensated fairly is a blessing not shared many in the world—I fully understand that. It’s a sad reality, but too many people either work doing something they consider less than life-giving, or they are not compensated appropriately for the work itself. Such a blessing as this is one that needs to be vocalized amidst a society plagued with a viewpoint of money being most important and work being drudgery overcome.
​       So now it’s your turn, what are a few (to begin with) blessings in your life? More than just material, what are the relationships and resources you have been given which deserve thanks and praise to God? Stewardship is not restricted to how much you make or how few bills you have—it’s not a money thing, it’s a blessings thing. All of us, regardless what we do for a living, how much we get paid, or our standard of living, have been and are daily given countless blessings by God. You probably have blessings you’ve either never considered as such or overlooked for one reason or another. If we are unaware of what all we have (been given), and/or unable to see it as a blessing—a gift freely given, not earned but bestowed out of love—how will we ever able to serve as faithful stewards, managing and sharing God’s abundant resources with others in need? The initial question that needs asking is not: Is there enough to go around? How should it be determined where certain gifts are distributed? or Why should we use our blessings in service to the Lord? Stewardship does not begin with envisioning a utopia worth mimicking; but simply looking up and around to see and give thanks for all with which God daily blesses us. Stewardship is a practice of generosity rooted in thankfulness which is self-aware of what is now, what could be in the future, and what is possible anytime by God’s grace and mercy. Consider your blessings, acknowledge them, and from there we can start thinking creatively about how to share them in service to the Lord.

I’ll be the first to admit that when I was thirteen years old, Confirmation was the last thing on my mind. Though I was one of those weird kids who enjoyed the religious education in affirming my baptism (perhaps a sign of my future calling), it was not the most exciting thing in my life at the time. Like nearly every other youth my age, relationships with friends, sports activities, and a number of other subjects filled my mind with exceeding importance. I was too immature at the time—and for quite some time that followed—to see the purpose and value of what I had been taught in those two years of Confirmation. Attending those Wednesday night classes and the Sunday School that complemented it, was first and foremost an expectation of the church and my parents that I don’t remember having much say in. I can’t remember ever trying to argue my way out of it, but I do know the day I was confirmed—standing before family, friends, and my congregation—I looked upon the matter more as a celebration of completion than a more appropriate joyous milestone in the journey of faith. My class was a large one; and yet, unfortunately, I think it’s safe to say most—if not all—of us had the same thought in mind. For us, the two years leading up to that point was a means to an end. Many of them I would never see again in church (unless perhaps an inconsistent Easter or Christmas). We had been confirmed—becoming voting members of the congregation, and free to make the detrimental decision to stop attending church until much later in life, if at all. 
       I believe a lack of understanding with regards to what the rite means in the life of faith, a lack of support from the congregation, parents, and baptismal sponsors, and a lack of commitment from all parties involved (including the pastor) contributes to such a warped image of Confirmation. I believe this, because I have been on all sides of it. In some ways, I was failed by others; and in many ways, I contributed toward failing others. The only reason I didn’t follow fully in the wayward steps of my classmates, when given the opportunity to shake the dust of church off my shoes, was because—by the grace of God—the Holy Spirit put people in my life at just the right time to guide me through feelings of being done, past complacency and disengagement, to continue asking questions and wrestling with my faith beyond the classroom. Despite popular belief, Confirmation is not an audacious attempt by the church to cram everything there is to know about the Christian faith in the hearts and minds of extra-curricular overloaded, hormonally-charged, instantly-distracted adolescents. Such an experiment would be impossible, if not absurd. Confirmation, simply put, is an affirmation of the promises made at one’s baptism. If Baptism is that which welcomes us into the community of faith, Confirmation is a means of catechesis (religious education) to help us learn what our baptism means, why it shapes our whole life, and how we live it out daily. Confirmation is not a graduation from church—a means to an end; but one among many steps in the journey of faith—a means to a means. We never fully master the Christian life of faith. From the day we are baptized to the day we are laid to rest, we participate in continually learning and growing in trusting God, living and serving—each as a member of the body of Christ, and working with the Holy Spirit to spread the gospel throughout the world. 
       Recently, I met with a person close to my age and the topic of their involvement in church came up. The person was quite honest about “having done their time” as an adolescent—attending Confirmation, despite its mind-numbingness, to appease mom and dad. Bemoaning their time in Confirmation—as if it were akin to serving one’s time in a prison sentence—the person quickly flip-flopped to include: “But when I have kids of my own, they’ll go to church, Sunday School, and Confirmation” as if to appease me with something I likely will never see. This person, who had attended church their “whole” adolescent life—until they “graduated” Confirmation and had the choice to not attend anymore—was not all that different from me. They had done a stint away from the church, just as I had done more or less during college; they had experienced both life’s joys and challenges, just as I do; and they had been instilled with an image of the church as important—though with an apparent shallowness, just as I had been given by a number of people in my upbringing. Yet, as I listened to this person talk about their life since that laborious time in Confirmation, I noticed something. I cannot judge the person, because I shared in many of their experiences—right or wrong—but something seemed acutely apparent about what they said. The person, perhaps not knowing the difference, had made (and was continuing to make) decisions that demonstrated a lack of depth of faith. In times, when they could have been surrounded by a loving community of sisters and brothers in Christ to encourage, support, and attend to that person amidst distress, need, or doubt, they chose to be alone. In times, when prayer would have helped keep them rooted in the grace and forgiveness of God, the person chose to turn to other means for relief. In times, when trusting in the prevailing presence of the Holy Spirit would have guided them to make different life decisions, the person went “with the flow.” That which could’ve, and should’ve been learned in Confirmation had either blown away like a feather in the winds of time, or the seed that had been planted died from a lack of watering. Either way, Confirmation failed for that person—and the signs were telltale. For that person, they had fulfilled the Christian life—as shallow as it appeared in their thoughts and words; and unless something drastically changes, any future children they have will likely participate in the same misunderstood manner. 
       So how do we reorient our thinking about Confirmation? How do we convey upon our youth the importance of this vital rite in the church, while not overwhelming and scaring them out of it? How do we make this adolescent catechesis a means to a means, and not a means to an end? I would be bold to offer some quick and easy answer to these very questions which many in the church have been wrestling with for decades, if not centuries. Yet, though the problem is deeply nuanced, I do believe one thing we can change begins with us and not those, themselves, who are in Confirmation. It’s easy and deeply tempting to blame the kids for their failure to get anything out of the rite (I confess, I know that all too well). Yet, if we want our youth to invest in an important means to the Christian life of faith; we must start with ourselves. Commitment begins with the grandparents, parents, and those in the community around the youth. It’s not full proof; but we’ve all heard the African proverb: “It takes a village to raise a child.” Our society is perpetually moving, further and further, into an individualistic mindset: every person for themselves. This, however, is not the case with everything. Watching our boys basketball team play a phenomenal season this past year, I’ve been thinking a lot about the value of teamwork. Some teams have one or two star players; but the teams which are most successful, and truly inspiring are those that work altogether—complementing one another’s strengths, and picking up for each other in every player’s growing edges. The church is intended to be a community, and functions at its most faithful when altogether—affirming and caring for each other. This includes even the rite of Confirmation. When the parents, sponsors, congregation, and (even) pastor are minimally committed in the faith formation of our youth, the students see, feel, and know it—causing them to stay surface-level, at best. We can say what we will about the curriculum, the teachers, or the students themselves, but the first step—the most crucial—is commitment by all those in the church and lives of the young people. So long as our commitment is elsewhere, we can be sure the same will be the case for our children. If we want to see our youth come back only during Christmas and Easter, or hopefully after they begin families of their own, than we’re already on the right track as we’ve been doing all along. If we want our youth to become deeply rooted in their faith—freely tapping into the life-giving waters of their baptismal promises—however; we, ourselves, must be reoriented to see how Confirmation, such as everything else we experience, encounter, and do, is a means (and not an end) in the means of the Christian life. Faith is a lifelong process of learning, growing, wrestling, struggling—and being loved by God through it all. God is committed to you—through good and bad, through thick and thin—in Jesus the Crucified and Risen Christ. Renew your commitment to the life of faith—giving yourself wholly to Christ, trusting in God to love, provide, and care for you in all things. Remember your baptism, affirm the promises made at the joyous occasion, live each day in the new life given to you through Christ Jesus.