Seeing Way More than We Can Perceive

Dear Brain Trust:

Most of you know I am currently at a conference on neurology, learning and spirituality called “The Heart of the Brain” taking place at Ghost Ranch, a Presbyterian retreat and conference center about 60 miles northwest of Santa Fe, New Mexico. On Saturday afternoon I hiked a few miles on the Continental Divide Trail, until the next several hundred yards involved a near-vertical climb—seemed like a good place to loop back toward the old dining hall. To say the place is beautiful makes me think I use the word too often, emptying the adjective of sufficient power to contain what I am stammering to convey; the same could be said pertaining to what, these past few days, I’ve witnessed concerning the brain—beautiful.

Since Friday morning, the lecture hall has been a steady read of FMRI (functional magnetic resonance imaging) scans and significantly more conversation about neurochemical interaction than I care to digest, but what I have gained from the lectures has been that sense of awe one feels standing at the foot of a mesa. Both the geologic wonder and the organ that comprehends its majesty contain discernable granular elements, but all attempts to extrapolate the whole from an exhaustive catalog of its parts return woefully inadequate.

On close inspection, the brain appears to access a limited repertoire of responses which function in sympathy to environment and memory; but suggesting that an understanding of these base dynamics is sufficient to unraveling the brain’s complexity is as absurd as suggesting that the works of Auguste Renoir and Georgia O’Keeffe are pretty much the same because they both used canvas and paint, or the compositions of Beethoven and Stokowski are identical because they both employ musical notes. The undeniable differences between artists and composers, whether nuanced or grand, is made possible by the grand and nuanced expressions formed in the brains they hold in common. The same organ located behind the eyes reading this musing.

Geology helps us discern the type of rocks which build a mesa, archaeology helps us map its history, but we do not talk about comprehending a mountain range or understanding a canyon. The fullness of the world around and the deepness of the world within lie beyond the grasp of human comprehension; I believe that is how God intended it to be. No matter how accurate our words, how refined our instruments, how rehearsed or elegant our arts, we will only penetrate another layer of complexity, uncover an additional dimension of beauty.

So, for the past few days, I have stood in awe of God’s creation, gazing at stars with distances I cannot comprehend, gasping at sunrises with color I could not recreate, gawking at cliffs revealing breathtaking strata of contrast and pondering the beauty of the human brain.

Looking forward to coming back home to share how little I know, I remain,

With Love,

Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor

Featured
Design and Direction
Design and Direction

Dear Gathering People:

If you have endured my long-form tour of our worship space, you’ve heard me ramble about the architectural work of Charles Edward Stade, who designed our Sanctuary. Fresh off his commission for the Chapel of the Resurrection at Valparaiso University in 1961, Stade’s Park Ridge firm was engaged by FPCLG to bring modern interpretation to classical Christian forms. To my taste, we caught Stade at just the right moment in the development of his style. Stade’s later designs were stamped by an obsession for A-frame structure. Literally hundreds of churches built in the 1960s and ‘70s reflect his direct and indirect influence. Long sloping roofs covering little checkerboards of windows became his hallmark. You can see local examples, including Winnetka Presbyterian Church, Trinity Lutheran Church of Lombard and Bethel United Church of Christ in Elmhurst. Our windows in both the cloisters and clerestory reflect his early fascination with tiny boxes of color, but unlike later works, ours are muted blues, grays

Practicing the Present
Practicing the Present

Dear Gardening Pianists:

I became a pastor just as mainline Protestantism was on the decline. I’ve never served a congregation that didn’t have members with fond memories of having significantly more members, larger programs and ever-expanding budgets; but that’s okay. My call to and preparation for ministry occurred in the 1980s, not the 1950s, so any wistful notion that I could have been a better pastor if I had started before I was born strikes me as silly. We are called to work, serve, pray and plan in the time we find ourselves; it is the only time in which God is present.  C. S. Lewis noted that the one prayer God almost never grants is “encore.” Lewis wrote that our nostalgia for “golden moments in the past” can be nourishing and sustaining only if we see them for what they are—memories, not blueprints. “Properly bedded down in a past which we do not miserably try to conjure back, they will send up exquisite growths,” Lewis wrote. “Leave the bulbs alone, and the new flowers will come up. Grub them up and hope, by fondling and sniffing, to get last year’s blooms, and you will get nothing.” (Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer, 1964)

Perhaps because it is Annual Meeting time, I’m thinking about our past. It’s so tempting to fill in the trend lines and conclude we’re not anything like we used to be, but such

Our Thermal Safety
Our Thermal Safety

Dear Thermodynamic Ones:

In 1892, Scottish chemist James Dewar (no relation to John Dewar of the Scotch distillery) invented the thermal flask. His goal was to measure the specific heat of the element palladium. Dewar needed to stabilize the sample’s temperature before heating it in order to generate consistent data for his calculations. To solve this problem, he formed two brass containers and nested one inside the other. By heating and sealing the space between them, Dewar created a vacuum between the walls of the two flasks. Heat is transferred through the friction of molecules in motion as they crash into each other; the kinetic energy of their movement is absorbed and given off as radiated heat. If you reduce

How's Your Church Been Treating You?
How's Your Church Been Treating You?

Dear Auditors:

The problem with welcoming doorways is how they work both ways—if it’s easy to get in, it’s easy to get out. In the 1980s and ‘90s, the seeker-sensitive megachurch offered a slow and gentle ramp extended to the unchurched. The goal was to make the church experience less churchy and more in line with an individual’s secular tastes. Narthexes became Welcome Centers, Sanctuaries became Worship Centers, and pastors traded clerical collars or suits and ties for waffle henleys and denim. Sunday School became Life Groups, and traditional liturgies were traded for motivational sing-alongs followed by self-improvement lectures.

On the one hand, it worked extremely well. The gathering crowds dwarfed the attendance at more traditional churches, and it appeared the megachurch, with its economy of scale and high production value, quickly outstripped the modest accouterments

What if We Gave it Away?
What if We Gave it Away?

Dear Consuming Congregation:

I’ve been rethinking how we deliver content on Sunday mornings to meet modern attention spans. One concept would be that we would serve donuts and coffee, but after every few sips of coffee, a tiny lid would cover the cup until you listened to two minutes of a sermon; then the lid would open again so you could sip more coffee.

We could also interrupt the last line of a favorite hymn, forcing you to listen to another minute of a sermon before playing the resolving phrase.

Speaking of hymns, I’m going to talk to Doug, who prepares our worship slides, about getting sponsorships

Let The Falsetivities Begin!
Let The Falsetivities Begin!

Dear Pomp Processors:

Well, another Presidential Inauguration is in the books, as yesterday we witnessed the rites of the transfer of presidential power for the sixtieth time in American history. And while some of the proceedings may have been perceived as unorthodox, the pomp and regalia (think Village People) occurred, and the illusion of continuity was upheld – God bless America! The echoing “oyez!” stir an inner peace, calling the faithful to reverent submission. That’s the great thing about ritual; it spackles over the cracks of dissociation and conveys a smoothness of transition, no matter how large the underlying gaps.

Certainly, with this introduction, it’s easy to discern that I’m not happy with what the new administration portends for our national identity, but that’s also part of the problem. I think I know which direction the arc of justice should bend, so when my preferred narrative

Cold, but Who's Counting?
Cold, but Who's Counting?

Dear Frozen Chosen:

For the past hour or so, a little committee of nine Fahrenheit degrees has assembled around my backyard thermometer. They show little sign of inviting another into their club. This is somewhat annoying, as I have attempted to continue my morning dog walks (only these days without a dog). In the absence of a cold nose nudging me towards my boots, I have little incentive to head out on a morning with such poor temperature attendance, so I’ll wait a bit to see if more degrees arrive to make my participation in the great outdoors a little warmer. That’s the funny thing about calefaction—the more the merrier, until there are too many and somewhere in August it’s a crowded thermometer that keeps me inside.

A few weeks ago, I found myself back in Peotone for the funeral of my former organist. A dozen or so former members of the Presbyterian church inquired about the good folks of La Grange Presbyterian Church. First Presbyterian Church of Peotone has closed, and the congregation merged with the much larger church in Manteno. The building

Committee Help, or Committee.... HELP!
Committee Help, or Committee.... HELP!

Dear Wise Ones:

Our annual officer training day is this coming Saturday, and each year it gives me an opportunity to consider how the year ahead may be shaped by our great team of leaders. I write most of my Monday Musings with an eye towards general appeal, but this week, while my musings may apply to other churches, I’ve been thinking quite specifically about our church. After eight years with FPCLG, I have come to the conclusion that our committee system seems out of sync with our congregation’s goals. It’s not for lack of commitment or creativity among committee members, but if we consider the programs and events that have flourished, there seems to be little correspondence between our administrative structure and our best work.

Making a list of things that have ‘taken off’ over the past few years is risky—I know I may leave something out; but considering what we have

When Prophecy Gets Too Personal
When Prophecy Gets Too Personal

Dear Remembering Ones:

A few months ago, a clergy colleague of mine told me to go back and listen to Jimmy Carter’s famous “malaise” speech given from the Oval Office on July 15, 1979. (If you wish to listen to it too, I’ve linked it here.) This speecj, delivered by a president seated at his desk with riveting eye contact, is credited by some as the beginning of the end of his one-term presidency.

In his nationally televised address President Carter outlined what he felt were failures in his administration. He quoted both other politicians and ordinary people

Bearing One Another Beyond the Jokes
Bearing One Another Beyond the Jokes

Dear Loved Ones:

From time to time there’s a problem that arises for the class clown, the smirking commentator, the sardonic jokester—things can go off the rails when you’re trying to be sincere; people who know you keep waiting for the punch line. The shtick gets old for those who have to live with it. Just ask Dani, who tells people to wait for the second thing that comes out of my mouth, because the first thing is usually an attempt at humor. She says “attempt” because after years of togetherness, it’s hard to generate new material. I used to make her laugh; now I tend to make her cringe. “If that wasn’t funny,” I’ll ask,