Holy Breadcrumbs 2.0

I am heading back to Scripture.

Pedal PilgrimFor those of you who know my writing history, you might find this a bit of a surprise. Before taking this presbytery position, I had a regular blog under the title PedalPilgrim. My readers were almost evenly divided between people who regularly attended church and those who considered themselves some form of “spiritual, but not religious” or agnostic. I had found a voice that seemed to speak equally to those outside of the church as well as those inside the church.

But I was in a unique position during that period. As an interim minister, I was able to tell my congregations that they were getting me less for the beliefs that I held and more for the experience I brought to their unique situation. I spoke to the congregation from the pulpit and to the larger community in my blog.

Now my readership is mostly faithful Presbyterians, although not exclusively. If I had a 50/50 split four years ago, I would guess that I now have something closer to a 90/10 split—nine religiously faithful to every one “non-religious” person.

LabyrinthSo I make this move “back to Scripture” with some reservation. I have always cherished my ability to share my spiritual values with people beyond the church. I know those folks well enough to know that a “return to Scripture” may be a step too far in holding their interest or in trusting my voice. That grieves me. In a denomination that has seen consistent declines for over five decades, connecting with people beyond the church walls seems like a no-brainer.

I am returning to Scripture, nonetheless.  I am hoping that both my church readers and non-religious readers will join me. I think what I am experiencing still speaks to both communities.

In recent months, I have found myself increasingly disoriented. I spent the first three years of this position feeling clear-headed about where the presbytery needed to go. I had a narrative in my head and a vision that I carried in my heart. Every week as I have written I have done so feeling deeply confident about where I was taking the presbytery.

But somewhere in the midst of the ongoing pandemic, a charged political environment, civil unrest, wildfires, international crises and my own personal losses, I lost my ability to be smugly confident about where the presbytery should go.

I still know how to get there. I am just less sure of where there is.

And so I am returning to Scripture. Most of my professional ministry was as a solo pastor where I was privileged to preach on a weekly basis. I loved the rhythm of weekly preaching. Generally, I would read Scripture five to six weeks in advance and then focus exclusively on one scripture for the Sunday ahead. As soon as I said “Amen” at the end of one sermon, my mind immediately shifted to the scripture for the next sermon. I loved having a certain scripture text tag along with me each day.

Bible on roadI loved the way it grounded my week. I cherished the way it gave me a spiritual lens through which to view the events of the world. I loved how it informed the chance meeting with the person at the store, the couple I was counseling, and the issues I was wrestling with. I delighted in the way the scripture leapt to life not because of what was written, but because of the way it intersected with my world.

I shared months ago that this Holy Breadcrumbs blog was going through a transformation. Something was ending, but a new beginning had not quite shown its face. Next week will represent the beginning of another stage of my writing for the presbytery—a shift from writing my way toward a vision that was in my head and heart to letting Scripture speak to us, walk with us and guide us in these coming months.

I am needing this. I am guessing you need something to ground you too. These past eighteen months have been incredibly disorienting and disturbing. I am no longer confident that I have the answers for the presbytery or even for myself. What I am confident about is that the answers lie somewhere in that dynamic space where scripture and life speak to each other.

Holy Breadcrumbs has not gone away. But it is changing. It is transforming. It used to be grounded in a vision that I held in my head and heart. Now it will be grounded in scripture. Now it will be grounded in that sacred space where God’s story meets our story.

Thank you for taking this journey with me.

By Rev. Brian Heron, Presbyter for Vision and Mission, Presbytery of the Cascades

“We Can Do That!”

“We can do that!”

Those were the words of Jeanne Schulz, an elder at Peace Presbyterian Church in Eugene, from a tour of Emerald Village five years ago. Jeanne was referring to a Presbyterian Women gathering that was organized around visiting the site where a 22-unit tiny house development was in process on 1.1 acres in Eugene. Jeanne said that the awareness that their congregation was aging coupled with nearly two acres of developable church property led her and her group to spontaneously blurt out, “We can do that!”

Five years later, what was an initial spontaneous fleeting and far flung idea is now becoming a reality.

Emerald villageSquare One Villages, the non-profit organization responsible for Emerald Village in Eugene and Cottage Village in Cottage Grove (see “It Only Takes a Spark“), is set to develop Peace Village Co-op, a 72-unit affordable housing community for very low-income residents.

This past weekend I worshiped with Peace Presbyterian Church outside on a cool Sunday morning and talked to them about how they made the significant decision to sell their property to Square One Villages for this development. What I discovered is that the decision didn’t happen overnight and that it came as a result of being intentional about the church’s legacy.

Peace #8
Hank’s Conestoga hut home

While the idea to sell their property to develop it for affordable housing is a monumental step, it’s not outside the spiritual DNA of the church’s mission. Currently, in partnership with the city of Eugene they provide space for five Conestoga huts to transition people off the street. I talked with Hank who had lived in his car for six years. He expressed how grateful he was to have a place to settle for a few months while preparing to transition into an apartment next year.

The church remodeled one bathroom adding a shower and turned a former nursery into a small pantry and kitchen for the residents living on their property. Serving the vulnerable and low income is not new to Peace, but going from five Conestoga huts to 72 housing units is a monumental leap of faith.

I asked both the clerk of session and the pastor if they had a message for other churches and they repeated nearly the same advice. Tom Wyatt, Peace’s clerk of session said, “Think about your legacy.” Pastor Glenn Edwards then chimed in and said, “Yes, and I would add that you really need to take control of your legacy.” Both said the key was shifting from a focus on surviving to primarily focusing on their mission and the legacy the church would leave should they eventually dissolve as a congregation.

There was a definitely a theme to my visit. Jeanne Schulz said that the big decision first started from that spontaneous “aha” moment five years before when they visited the proposed site for Emerald Village. But there were dozens of conversations along the way including speaking with city officials, presbytery staff and trustees, and the ongoing Session and congregational discernment.

Peace #10
Pastor Glenn Edwards preaching

Pastor Edwards said that a big key to the success of this project was recognizing that a legacy of this magnitude can’t be done overnight or in order to avoid a looming crisis. It takes forethought, planning, time and a season of discernment and prayer. He added, reflecting on what the pandemic is teaching us, “You don’t want to get to the place of trying a vaccine when you are on the verge of dying.” I nodded in agreement. Legacy work takes time, but many churches wait until it’s too late.

In Pastor Edwards’ sermon on Sunday he said the congregation focused on three primary questions as they faced the uncertainty of their future. Their decision was the result of a long multi-year process of discernment on these three questions:

  1. Who are we?
  2. Why are we here?
  3. What is God calling us to do?

From the place where I sit Peace Presbyterian Church is a model of creative faithfulness. While the decision was painful, the church found a way to leave a deep and lasting legacy in their community AND continue as a congregation. The congregation is selling their full property to Square One Villages for less than market value in exchange for a $1/year 25-year lease to continue to use the church buildings.

Peace Village
Peace Village Co-op

Many of our churches are afraid of the potential of closing. Many others don’t like the language of legacy. But the lesson from Peace Presbyterian is that if you start early enough, think about and take control of your legacy, and listen for God’s leading it is possible to both continue as a congregation and invest in a mission that will have a deep impact on the community for decades to come.

Legacy is scary faithful work. But if done right and early enough the impact can be huge.

This is a great story of creative faithfulness.

The headline should read, “A Church of 40 Makes Room for a Village of 72!”

Five years ago, Jeanne Schulz and the women of Peace Church visited the Emerald Village site and said, “We can do that!”

That’s where it starts.

After that all you need is time and trust.

By Rev. Brian Heron, Presbyter for Vision and Mission, Presbytery of the Cascades

Jesus Meets Maslow

This past weekend I preached at Plymouth Presbyterian Church in St. Helens. It’s a little too late to use my sermon as a stand in for your services since I preached on the lectionary and that week has passed. But one of the stories that I told in the sermon seemed timely to share with the presbytery right now (You can hear the sermon here–Audio “The Daily Show”.).

I was preaching from John 6: 24-35 and focusing mostly on Jesus’ chiding of the crowd for running after him for the purposes of getting more bread. He used the occasion to remind them that the material things of life rot and perish, but that the spiritual things of life are eternal. Essentially, he said, “Don’t be chasing after literal bread; seek me, the ‘bread of life.’”

Maslow's hierarchy of needs, scalable vector illustration

Anyone who knows Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs will know that Maslow’s theory posits that one cannot seek spiritual things until one’s physical needs are met. In his theory, psychological development is like a five-layer cake with our most basic needs at the bottom and our higher, more spiritual needs at the top. The hierarchy appears in the accompanying picture.

When I first read the scripture lesson I thought that, if Maslow and Jesus had met, they would have had a healthy argument. Maslow would have advocated for not pushing spiritual development on the crowd until they actually got the bread they were seeking. Jesus would have countered, “Isn’t life more than bread? Why should a person put off spiritual maturity just because they don’t have bread?”

Or, at least, so I thought.

crowdThen I looked at the story more carefully. Jesus was not talking to people who didn’t know where their next meal would come from. He was talking to a group of people who had gathered on a hillside to hear him teach, and then, because the lecture went on so long, found themselves getting hungry. When they followed him to the other side of the seas that’s when Jesus chided them. “You came to hear me teach, but you followed me because you wanted more snacks.”

This is when I realized the text was not about bread itself; it was about trust.

That’s when a personal story shot to the forefront of my brain. I realized that I had an experience that reconciled Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs with Jesus’ spiritual admonishments. The two were probably more in agreement than I had first surmised.

alone book coverTen years ago, I took off on a cycling pilgrimage that is captured in my book “Alone: A 4,000 Mile Search for Belonging.” If Maslow had been along for the ride he would have said that the purpose of my ride was to create enough space in my life to reflect on stages 3, 4 and 5 of his hierarchy—love and belonging, esteem, and self-actualization. I had experienced a spate of losses and I desperately needed an experience where I could reflect on where I had been and where I was supposed to go next. My needs were not about food, but about my deepest purpose in life.

One thing I remember very clearly about the ride is this. As I took off my greatest worry and source of anxiety was wondering where I would sleep each night. The thing about cycling pilgrimages is that you don’t know day to day how far you will be able to ride. One day you expect to ride 80 miles but you wake up feeling heavy and out-of-sorts and the miles just aren’t in your legs. Another day you are riding along well when a massive thunderstorm cuts your day short. And then there are the days when a tailwind pushes you through one town and into another far exceeding your morning expectations.

In order to quell my initial anxiety I had made arrangements for the first two nights of this nine to ten-week trip. I stayed with fellow cyclists in Silverton on my first night and then reserved a campsite at Detroit Lake for my second night. After that I had to hope and keep my fingers crossed that I would have a place to sleep as my days ended.

Quite honestly, despite the fact that I was supposed to be reflecting on the higher stages of Maslow’s scale my thoughts were consumed by worries over the lowest stage—food, shelter and warmth.

But this is what actually happened as I crossed the state of Oregon by bike.

  • Night 3: After leaving Detroit Lake, I got caught in a rare summer Cascades rainstorm and needed to find a hotel in Sisters where I could dry out my clothing and gear.
  • Night 4: I camped at Ochoco Lake east of Prineville where my tent poles snapped and I had a barely functional tent.
  • Night 5:  A Presbyterian Church in Dayville let me sleep in their pews and use the kitchen for cooking.
  • Night 6:  I set up my sagging tent behind a restaurant/store at Austin Junction, but during dinner I struck up a conversation with a local couple. The next thing I knew they had invited me to sleep at their place and save me from sleeping in my drooping tent.
  • Night 7: The next night I found a cheap motel in Unity.
  • Night 8: I called some relatives of church members late in the afternoon and joined them for a family BBQ and a nice warm bed in the town of Ontario

None of this was planned. In fact, all of it only came into focus late into the afternoon.

Dayville Presbyterian
Dayville Presbyterian Church

The point is this. At the start of the trip I was like those people in the crowd whom Jesus was admonishing. My thoughts were consumed with shelter, safety and security. What I discovered was that it wasn’t having all ten weeks of my lodging scheduled and secured that allowed me to finally relax and do the real work of the pilgrimage. It was trusting that God or the Universe or the hands of Life would provide a safe and secure place to sleep every night.

I write this because we all know that the church, at its best, focuses on our essential mission to provide gospel hope, to be a healing presence in a broken world, and to advocate for divine justice and true peace. But we sometimes get caught up in thinking that we can’t focus on our higher calling as faith communities until all of our fears about the heating of our buildings, the paying of our staff, the watering of our lawns, and the taking care of our members have been quelled.

Jesus says, “Don’t worry so much about food, but spend your energy on your higher purpose.” Jesus is not advocating that we starve or sleep next to the highway in favor of being spiritual. He is not telling the homeless person to quit obsessing about food and shelter. He is saying to those of us Presbyterians who already have those things, “Move on. You have what you need. You will be fine. Now think about eternal things. Think about your mission in life.”

I think Maslow would approve.

By Rev. Brian Heron, Presbyter for Vision and Mission, Presbytery of the Cascades

Guns and Kayaks

I am my dad’s son.

But given my reaction to my 16th birthday present you might have questioned that. I was a very active teenager spending as much time outdoors as I could—tennis, cycling, skiing, hiking, soccer and swimming. When it came time for my 16th birthday, quite honestly, I was hoping for some expensive ski equipment for my special day. My birthday is in October and new skis or boots would have been the perfect gift just in front of the Thanksgiving opening day on the slopes.

Hunting rifleWhen it came time to receive my gift my dad took me downstairs, opened up a small closet and proudly pulled out a Swiss Army rifle. My eyes must have become like silver dollars. This was a monumental gift from my dad. It was his blessing upon me indicating that I had come of age. My father was bestowing upon me the sign and symbol of a boy who had transitioned into manhood—a high-powered rifle suited for big game such as deer, elk and bear.

It clearly caught me by surprise because I stammered through some form of an incoherent and insincere thanks. It wasn’t just that I really wanted something else and I was disappointed. No. The damn thing scared me! It was then that I knew that my dad’s hopes for me and my hopes for myself were going different directions. His intentions were pure gold. But it felt like I had received a lump of coal.

And yet, I have to say again I am my dad’s son.

Growing up, many a weekend was spent up in the Colorado Rockies fishing, hiking and camping. I was born in Bozeman, Montana near Yellowstone Park and later raised right at the foot of the magnificent Rocky Mountains. Trail Ridge Road, the highest paved highway in the world, was just a quick morning jaunt away. Three times I road my bike over the 12,183-foot pass. I was raised as a mountain boy.

On my 16th birthday, my dad got me right and wrong. He knew me well enough to know that supporting my love affair with nature was just right. But he didn’t know me well enough to know that I wasn’t going to be a perfect replica of him.

Brian KayakingToday, I am still my dad’s son. I am as much of a nature boy as I always have been. It’s just that I traded in fishing, hunting, and camping for cycling, snowshoeing and kayaking. Despite my dad’s early hopes for me, today he takes pride (and some credit) in my outdoor ambitions.

At our Strategic Planning Team meeting last week one of our astute members shared the image of her understanding of good parents as we were reflecting on the future of the church. She reminded us that healthy parenting is not about making sure that our children become exact replicas of us, but that we bestow upon them our most cherished values and then release them to the world to live those values out in their own way.

The comment came as we were wrestling with the increasing demand upon the presbytery to help our churches successfully negotiate the cultural shifts of our communities. We know the form of our churches has to change. Her comment was a reminder that the healthiest churches instill their values in their membership and then release those same members to live those values out in their own unique ways.

Brian BikingI thought about the lesson from my family. My dad instilled in me a love for nature teaching me to fish for Rainbow trout, camping next to mountain lakes, and guiding me toward hunting for big game in the forests. I do almost none of that now. But my love of nature is still written into my DNA. Not a week goes by without taking a walk by a river, cycling on a mountain trail, snowshoeing through a forest, or kayaking in a wildlife refuge.

Sometimes we make the mistake of confusing form for content. We assume that Christian values can only be lived out in church membership, singing in a choir, volunteering at the food pantry, pledging a percentage of income to the church, serving as an elder or deacon, making coffee, trimming trees on church property, and running the sound system on Sunday.

At our best we instill in our memberships the value of compassion, a love of neighbor, a commitment to divine grace and justice, a deep itch for truth-telling, and a devotion to healing self and others. Maybe our members will become exact replicas of our church culture. But if we are lucky they will take those Christian values and live them out in their own unique ways. If we are lucky they won’t abandon the church, but instead become our legacy.

I am my dad’s son. Different in so many ways; yet, essentially the same.

That is how legacy works.

By Rev. Brian Heron, Presbyter for Vision and Mission, Presbytery of the Cascades

It Only Takes a Spark…

This is a story about First Presbyterian Church, Cottage Grove. But, honestly the players involved in this story had become so big and numerous that First Presbyterian almost got lost in the narrative.

Tuesday I made my way down from Portland to Cottage Grove, a small idyllic town less than a half hour south of Eugene. Cottage Grove first got on my radar when I discovered the 16-mile Row River Bike Trail that originates in the town and crosses three covered bridges on the way to Dorena Lake. It’s a lovely ride if you ever want to gather a few pedaling Presbyterians for a Saturday outing.

Cottage Grove 4I was in Cottage Grove for the ribbon-cutting ceremony for Cottage Grove Village, a one-acre tiny house development on a quiet neighborhood street on the south side of town. I arrived to the scene of thirteen recently constructed tiny houses and over a hundred people gathered around for speeches, a BBQ and a ribbon cutting.

As I looked at the brochure for the event I expected to see the name of First Presbyterian Church highlighted somewhere prominently between the beautiful pictures of homes and residents. Instead, I found the names of some thirty community partners including various foundations, government entities, corporate names and the organizational umbrella of Square One Villages. But the name of the church was not to be found.

Cottage Grove 3That omission, whether intentional or not, really tells the story of First Presbyterian Church. In fact, except for a few short days or maybe a couple of weeks they never owned this story; they were just the divine spark that ignited the energy and passion of city and county dreamers, doers and developers. Don’t get me wrong. They didn’t light the match and then walk away. No, they lit the match and then kept fanning the flames until the project is what it is today.

The truth is that by the time this project reached ribbon cutting stage there were major partners involved including the Meyer Memorial Trust, the $100,000 gift from the Presbyterian Women, Lane County, AARP, Banner Bank, Ford Family Foundation and more than two dozen other large benefactors and supporters.

What First Presbyterian Church understands and got right is that a mission of this magnitude has to catch fire beyond the local congregation if it’s going to be successful. What they got right from the very beginning was that they communicated to the community that “we are better together.” They invited the community to dream with them and plan with them.

Cottage Grove 1From the spark of an idea with their Earth and Social Justice Committee they ignited the passions of a community that wanted to make a visible impact on the housing crisis in their community. What started out as an idea to have a forum to UNDERSTAND the issues eventually morphed into a project to SOLVE the issues. It would not have happened without the initiative of First, Cottage Grove and it would not have happened without the investment of the community. “We are better together” was their motto.

I know this congregation well enough to know that this was not some new discovery for them. It has long been in the DNA of this congregation to be the initiators for community development. They don’t need to develop trust for community projects. They crossed the trust threshold decades ago. Their community sees them as barrier breakers and depends on them to step in to mend the social fabric of the community.

During our last presbytery meeting, I closed my comments from the Strategic Planning Team with the lyrics to the first verse of one of our favorite hymns:

Called as partners in Christ’s service,

Called to ministries of grace,

We respond with deep commitment

Fresh new lines of faith to trace.

May we learn the art of sharing,

Side by side and friend with friend,

Equal partners in our caring

To fulfil God’s chosen end.

That hymn clearly plays in the hearts of First Church members.

Cottage Grove 2Today, called as partners in Christ service, the Cottage Grove Village has given thirteen vulnerable residents an opportunity to develop some permanency and to restore their dignity. What started out as a single conversation sparked a community-wide development where people feel a sense of belonging again. In the words of new resident, Asslin, “I had lost the ability to have hope. That is what this place gave me. It has given me a new family of brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles who are just as crazy as I am. I absolutely love it.” The world needs a little more of her kind of craziness.

“It only takes a spark…”

Then watch out!

By Rev. Brian Heron, Presbyter for Vision and Mission, Presbytery of the Cascades

“God’s Got This!”

HuggingAfter the long haul of avoiding personal contact over the last year, I was treated this past weekend to some rich engagement with one of my long-time good friends. I met my friend nearly thirty years ago when we both were serving churches in a small rural town in Northern California. We both were young ministers in only our second calls—me a Presbyterian, he a Methodist.

Over the past three decades, we have followed each other’s vocational and personal paths. Both of us experienced divorce and stepped in for each other to navigate the chaotic waters of a broken dream. He went on to complete a PhD in clinical psychology; I eventually moved into this executive position.

changeOver the weekend, we caught up with each other, shared stories about our families, compared notes on what it is like to be single and in the ministry, and talked about how much ministry has changed in the nearly thirty years since we met. I listened as he shared his plans on how to help his church shift toward small group ministry focused on spiritual care and growth and less on worship. He listened as I talked about my desire to lead our presbytery through a process of transformation with a more missional focus.

As he listened, I was going on about all the changes that have occurred in our presbytery and the sobering projections of what we saw on the horizon. I was sharing the potential vision that was emerging as we anticipated churches putting in place their legacies. He heard my hopes that we would  re-direct our resources to affordable housing, a Coastal Camino, house churches, new pastoral configurations and an institute to study Christian spirituality, among other emerging possibilities.

But I also shared how overwhelming all this was and the sense of responsibility I feel most mornings when I wake up. He was picking up on my anxiety as he listened. Finally, when he noticed a moment of vulnerability and openness in me, he stopped me, looked straight into my eyes and said, “Brian, God’s got this!”

He was picking up that not only did I have hopes for the presbytery, but that I also felt like I was personally responsible to MAKE those hopes turn into reality. He was picking up on the fact that I was talking as if the future was completely dependent on my ambition, perseverance, and dogged determination. He was wondering if this presbytery executive friend had also made room for God.

“God’s got this!” he interjected with a knowing smile.

I needed to hear it. I needed to be reminded that my role is not to make something happen, but to be faithful to the process and allow God to do what God does best—that is, transform challenges into opportunities and death into life.

Lifting weightsI write this to you because I have picked up on the same anxiety in many of our congregations. So many of the conversations I am having with church leadership reveal this belief that the future of the church is completely dependent on what we do, how hard we work, and how strategically smart we are. I can hear it in your voices just like my friend heard it in mine, “This is completely up to us!” We feel overwhelmed by the sense of responsibility and the weightiness of the issues.

I thought about the conversation with my friend. Both of us were expressing the need to make dramatic shifts in our church systems. But he didn’t feel personally responsible for the eventual outcome, whereas I seemed to express that the outcome would be a sign of my personal success or failure. Quite honestly, it reveals a certain level of ego and arrogance to tie the future of the church to what we personally do or do not do.

With those three quick words, “God’s got this,” my friend reminded me that we don’t play God. The eventual outcome on the future of the church is up to God. Faithfulness is up to us.

Let us do what can. Let us love one another. Let us act with an eye toward justice, kindness and humility.

Then, let us allow God to be God.

“God’s got this.”

By Rev. Brian Heron, Presbyter for Vision and Mission, Presbytery of the Cascades

One More Thing…

First things first. For any of you who read my last blog “Goodbye, for now…”


shiftI am sorry that my blog left some confusion about that. I am not leaving my position; I am only experiencing a shift in my writing. Up to this point, I have been what I call, “teasing out a vision” in my Holy Breadcrumbs blog. Somewhere in the next few months, I anticipate that a new blog will emerge along the lines of “living into a vision” as the presbytery makes decisions and commits to a specific mission and vision.

After announcing that the Holy Breadcrumbs blog would go quiet for a few months, I had a couple of revelations. One, I don’t think it will be helpful for the presbytery for the blog to go completely quiet. I am guiding us through a transformational process that is as much an emotional shift as it is a structural shift.

One of the things that I realized is that there will still be times when I feel like something needs to be said. We will continue to be transformed in this time and Holy Breadcrumbs is often where I have named those subtle shifts that are taking place within our souls and our congregations. I still want to make sure that I don’t miss important transformational thresholds.

PlantingThe second thing I realized is that I can’t feel obligated to publish a blogpost every week. I now am focusing on strategic planning, structural changes, and presbytery-wide initiatives. I spent the first three years of this position trying to loosen up the soil of the presbytery for new initiatives. Now it is time to do the weeding, the planting, and the growing of our soon-to-be chosen crop (mission/vision). Now it is time to shift from what might be possible to what is actually doable. It is clear that I now need to tip the needle from imagination to implementation.

You can expect Holy Breadcrumbs to show up in the Cascades Connections periodically, but the timing will be based not on a certain day of the week, but on when the Holy Spirit gets under my skin and agitates me until I start tickling the keys again.

Again, sorry to those of you who thought I was backing out of my position! Just the opposite is true. As each week passes, I find myself sinking deeper and deeper into this transformative moment in the presbytery. I am not shifting away from something, but shifting more deeply into it.

Trust me. I am committed to this wild theological, ecclesiastical, Jesus-following, mission-loving ride that we are on.

Hang on, folks!

By Rev. Brian Heron, Presbyter for Vision and Mission, Presbytery of the Cascades

Goodbye, for now…

I started hinting at this blog post last January when I mentioned in a former blog post that the image of Holy Breadcrumbs may have served its purpose. I began writing under this title in January of 2018 as I became convinced that a new vision for the presbytery was not going to come from a handful of bright, creative visionaries sitting around a boardroom table. I felt strongly that in the current context of ongoing change and uncertainty that a vision was going to have to be teased out.

pathwayRather than having one comprehensive vision out ahead of us, I felt that we would have to arrive at our vision “one holy breadcrumb at a time.” I come with experience in pilgrimages and one of the great lessons from the pilgrim life is one learns to trust the path right in front of our feet without the certainty of knowing where one might get their next meal or lay their head at night.

But today I need to say goodbye, at least for now.

It is now clear that the period of teasing out a vision and loosening the ecclesiastical soil of the presbytery has run its course. It is time now for strategy and planning. It is time to move from a plethora of possibilities to a commitment to specific plans. It is time to turn potential dreams into budget line items.

I will continue to communicate with the presbytery as we move through this time. But I imagine that my communications will fall more in the category of updates, progress reports, as well as attempts at making meaning of our emerging life together.

Woodburn 1I do know that I will continue to write even as my particular voice will shift. All of my pastoral work prior to taking this position was as a solo pastor. The weekly rhythm of scriptural reflection, sermon writing and preaching is in my bones. When I first accepted this position one of the members of the church where I was serving was thrilled for me but also said, “This doesn’t mean you will quit preaching, does it? I can’t imagine you not preaching.” I told him that I would find a way somehow to keep my weekly practice alive. My weekly Holy Breadcrumbs served that purpose.

I enjoy the writing and many of you say you look forward to it weekly. So, I imagine that I will come back at some point under a new title and with a more appropriate theme. Maybe the need will be to share stories of where God is showing up as we step into a new vision. Maybe the need will be to continue to look at the world through the lens of faith and spiritual eyes. Maybe the need will be to continue to provide a hopeful word as the church loses one kind of life on the path to living into a new kind of life.

As with all things pilgrimage-related, however, the landscape changes. Needs shift. The path goes another direction. One thing disappears; another emerges.

So, goodbye, for now.

I’ll see you around the next corner.

By Rev. Brian Heron, Presbyter for Vision and Mission, Presbytery of the Cascades

Lightening the Load

I am on vacation right now. This is a re-post from last fall. The topic still seemed timely.

Hwy 50The date: August 26, 2011.

I was 145 miles into the Loneliest Road in America—Highway 50 that crosses the Nevada desert from east to west. I still had 352 miles of cycling to go. I woke up in Ely, Nevada to my usual routine of getting a full breakfast of orange juice, coffee, eggs, bacon, and a pile of pancakes. I was prepared for the next leg of the journey. But I was worried. After two days of cycling in the desert with fifty pounds of gear after seven weeks and 2,500 miles behind me, I wasn’t sure I had the stamina to push my body and my soul across the desert in 102 degree heat. The ride had become more brutal work than adventurous fun.

I finished my breakfast, went back to my motel room and, rather than pull my gear together, got out the map. “Could I finish the last 1,500 miles without the use of camping gear? Could I send my sleeping bag, pad, tent and cooking gear home, lighten my load, and make the trip much more enjoyable?”

DesertIt was a risk. Once I emerged from the desert there were enough towns where I felt confident that there would be motels, fellow cyclists, kind Presbyterians and friends to rely on for nightly shelter. The risk was the desert. With services only every 65-90 miles the lighter load would make it easier to bridge those difficult distances. On the other hand, if I didn’t make it I would have no gear to rely on if I found myself forced to bed down for the night with no bedding. The thought of spending the night on the sand as the desert turned cold was frightening at best.

It was one of the best decisions of the trip. As the cycling became more daunting it wasn’t pushing harder and digging deeper that saved me; it was lightening my load.

Bike on hwy 50The image of that day keeps coming back to me as I ponder how to negotiate my way through the overwhelming series of events of recent months. I feel like I am crossing a metaphorical desert once again. That same feeling of realizing that just pushing harder isn’t going to be the answer that eventually saves me. I don’t think I can dig deeper. It’s not about being able to carry a heavier load but being willing to give myself grace and lighten the load.

And lightening my load is what I am trying to do. My body and soul are refusing to take more on, work longer and later, cram more into my day, and attempt to get to the other side of this by sheer will, grit and determination. Rather, I am attempting to lighten my load, let go of that which is not essential, and trust that what does not get done apparently wasn’t important in the first place.

It’s time for more grace and less push.

rummage salePhyllis Tickle reminded us in The Great Emergence that the church seems to goes through a massive ecclesiastical rummage sale every 500 years. Many of us have been consulting and preaching that theme for years encouraging churches and judicatories to let go of that which has outlived its usefulness. Like old shoes and outdated outfits the church every few centuries needs to do a major closet cleaning.

It feels to me that we have moved from the rummage sale that we SHOULD do to the rummage sale that we MUST do. It’s no longer one possible option among many, but an essential act that our ecclesiastical lives may depend on. If we do not lighten our loads, we run the risk of being crushed by the weight of and the barrage of competing crises.

ASUS 4 282On August 26, 2011 (I remember the exact day!) I faced a choice in the Nevada desert—either continue to pound my body and soul into the ground as I attempted to cross the desert with fifty pounds of gear or lighten my load and make the adventure fun again.

The next morning, twenty pounds of gear lighter, I nearly danced across the desert. I was having fun again.

  • What weight are you carrying that you need to let go of now?
  • What responsibilities now feel optional and are better reserved for another time?
  • What physical possessions support your emotional and spiritual health? Which ones are weighing you down and holding you back?
  • What do you need to do in order to dance through this time?

Lighten the load.

Let’s find a way to dance across this wilderness.

By Rev. Brian Heron, Presbyter for Vision and Mission, Presbytery of the Cascades

A Sneaky Holy Spirit

future of faithIt was ten years ago that I read Harvey Cox’s book “The Future of Faith,” where he attempts to capture what he calls three different ages of Christendom. I remember when I read it and felt like little lights started going off in my brain. He describes what he believes are three epochal ages of the Church from the Age of Faith, a 400-year period right after the time of Jesus, the Age of Belief, a 1500-year period extending into the 20th century and now what he loosely calls the Age of Spirit.

He writes that this third age is still in formation and seeking definition, but that there are distinct features that are emerging that mark this as a separate and new age. Of primary importance is the lessening of the import of what people believe in in favor of three emerging trends—how people live, how they treat one another, and how they experience the divine through spiritual practices and ritual.

This is really important.

Protest JesusThis was especially on display in 2020 as many Christians felt that they had more in common with their secular sisters and brothers than they did with fellow Christians. Christians on the right and the left didn’t recognize each other while people at various protests both right and left felt an affinity for each other even if they didn’t share the belief in the same God.

Pentecost is this Sunday when we celebrate the narrative of the Holy Spirit sweeping the early Christians off their feet and into a movement to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with the whole world. While not everyone may recognize this high holy day in the Christian calendar, the experience of Pentecost seems to be taking root in our time.

This seems to be Holy Spirit time. People are learning to partner with each other not because they share a common language or a similar belief, but because they, as Harvey Cox might say it, share common values about “how we live, treat one another and experience the divine.”

doveI firmly believe that the God presence is alive and well in our communities. I believe that Jesus is still stirring up people for extravagant love, radical peace and divine justice. I am convinced that the Holy Spirit is showing up in non-profits, civic organizations, and community networks.

I think Harvey Cox might be right that this is the Age of the Spirit. Pentecost is our daily reality.

Just don’t be surprised if Pentecost doesn’t come with a Christian label.

The Holy Spirit can be sneaky that way.

By Rev. Brian Heron, Presbyter for Vision and Mission, Presbytery of the Cascades