Three is a Magic Number

Two weeks ago, as worship was about to start, I looked out into my church’s Commons through the back sanctuary glass doors.   Our Commons area was filled to the brim.   Wall-to-wall tables:   fair trade tea and coffee for sale, t-shirt orders being taken, a welcome desk with gift bags, Turkey Dinner tickets for sale, prayer key chains for the taking, photo signups for the directory, a check-in for flu shots, and donuts, fruit, and coffee down the hall.   I leaned over and whispered to my partner-in-crime (aka lead pastor), “An old pastor of mine used to say, ‘It’s right about now that Jesus comes in and turns over tables.’”     About 10 years ago, in my previous church where I was a layperson, November was a really busy month.   The Narthex was filled with tables for various sales and signups (similar to the Commons area of my new church).   I personally loved the energy during November; the hustle and bustle somehow found its way into worship and gave worship a jolt.   A

I’ve been pretty open in the past about my personal dislike of clergy garb.   I’ve worn a clergy robe just once, during my license recognition in WI.   Because it was my aunt’s robe, the moment was actually kind of important to me.   I’ve worn a stole just four times: once for a Christmas play where the pastor had a role, twice at the St. Croix County fair because I wear a mentor’s stole in honor of him, and once during regular worship when it went with what I was talking about. When I was doing church planting, it obviously made no sense to wear a robe, but I knew it would come up eventually in my current church.   The lead pastor and I decided to put the conversation on ice for a bit, so I thought I better get clear about what the rub is for me in order to explain it to others.   Just a note, these are my personal feelings .   I have lots of friends who wear clergy garb for lots of great reasons.   These are just my reasons on why I don’t like it. First the robe…