It Takes a Congregation to Raise a Parent

Dear Parent Helpers:

I had great parents. I’m not sure they started out that way, but as the youngest of five, by the time I came along they’d had plenty of opportunities to work the kinks out of their model; and with four relatively well-adjusted older siblings, they figured if in some way they failed with me, their average was still pretty good. There were two overlapping foci in the ellipses of our upbringing. One was the family dinner table where, following the meal, my father read from the Bible and one of us would read the prayer requests from church and offer prayer. The other focus of our attention was, of course, church. My parents were heavily involved. They had met in the choir, both taught Sunday school for many years, and my father attended the weekly Saturday morning men’s study group and prayer meeting; the Kroghs were at the church pretty much every time it was unlocked.

But the strength of my mom and dad’s parenting was not cult-like installation of religious values; it was a dedication to community. They recognized how parenting isn’t an individualized or even a mixed-doubles activity. Good parenting requires teamwork, and the network of church relationships created a phalanx of like-minded reinforcement. Church youth group was far more than a series of safe activities for hormone-juiced teenagers; it was a time when parents could strategize and encourage one another while the kids were otherwise occupied. During youth group many parents would go out for dinner or coffee and decompress.

Youth group was also a place where kids could interact with attentive adults who were not their parents. To be taken seriously by adults who had no obligation to care but still gave their time and energy to our social and spiritual formation was a powerful experience. To this day I can recall great conversations I had with youth advisors dedicated to my growth and maturity. It wasn’t the content that mattered; it was the connection.

This past week FPCLG received the resignation of Youth Director Lisa Nadle. After eight years of TUXIS nights and mission trips, Lisa is pursuing some new professional opportunities. Her leadership and dedication will be missed, but our youth programming will continue. So, this Monday, I’m asking you to muse. The strength of our TUXIS group and youth ministry does not rest on the shoulders of an individual staff member; it is a shared project. Is it possible that you have something to offer our teens? Are you being called to assist parents with the awesome task of growing youth into adults who are Christian and strong? Perhaps, as part of this year’s pledging process, you may be committing more than financial support...perhaps your pledge will involve time and attention to our community of faith. Our parents need you.

What matters isn't those who planted or watered, but God who made the plants grow. Those who plant are just as important as those who water. (1 Corinthians 3.7-8)

Extremely grateful that my parents had help, I remain,

With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor

Featured
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,

Lead Tainted Memories of Christmas
Lead Tainted Memories of Christmas

Dear Christmas Tree Huggers:

With the weather feeling more like April than December, it’s a little harder to get into the Christmas spirit, but calendars are unrelenting, so for inspiration I’ll dig back into the past hoping to find that little thread that will amusingly unravel that ugly Christmas sweater of memory.

When I was little, about this time of year the family would head down to Omaha’s Old Market looking for our annual tree. That area of downtown Omaha is now filled with trendy shops and high-end restaurants, but back then it was a dilapidated wholesale produce market where tree sellers would unstrap their wares priced by the foot. Of course, most of us kids wanted the tallest tree possible. Knowing our living room ceiling was about nine feet, subtracting for the tree topper which looked a little like an eight-inch satellite with a silver spire, and adding about six inches to the bottom for the tree stand, we figured an eight and a half foot tree would max out the height, leaving a little space

The Bible Doesn't Always Have the Answers We Want
The Bible Doesn't Always Have the Answers We Want

Dear Lovers of Life:

Since the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade in the Dobbs case, returning the jurisdiction over abortion legislation to the states, anti-abortion activists have aggressively mounted their case attempting to limit women’s choice in every state. I would like to say at outset that I am firmly pro-choice; however, in today’s Monday Musing I am not going to weigh in on specific legislative proposals but focus instead on what I believe is the misuse of Scripture by the anti-abortion right. Repeatedly we’ve heard it said that the Bible is against abortion, or even more aggressively, “God hates abortion”, but on the specific topic of pregnancy termination, the Bible says no such thing.

What anti-abortionists do with Scripture is cobble together some poetic passages

A Darker Black Friday and Generosity
A Darker Black Friday and Generosity

Dear Long Weekend Spenders:

When policy or politics seems to be careening out of control, I often take comfort in history, finding how we have endured even greater upheavals in past disasters. It’s a technique found in several Psalms (41, 61, 71, 91, 140 and others), where the author reminds the reader of God’s help and provision during great calamities of the past, concluding that God will surely be present for us now. Perhaps the best hymnological example is “Our God, Our Help in Ages Past,” where Isaac Watts (1674-1748) paraphrased Psalm 90 into a glorious congregational song (sample here). A more contemporary example can be found in Tom Trenney’s soulful hymn, “God Wouldn't Bring You This Far to Leave You” (2022, sample here). I find singing this affirmation even more reassuring than reading it.

So with survivorship in mind, my musing today turns to Black Friday, the annual retail frenzy spurred by an extra day off after Thanksgiving. It seems exploitative to pin a day of spending immediately after being loosened up by a day of thanks, but it’s the same logic that in worship places the offering right after the sermon and prayer. Like so many traditions,

Conspiring for Camp
Conspiring for Camp

Dear Happy Campers: 

In 1930, Walter Strong, publisher of the Chicago Daily News, constructed his country getaway summer home for his wife Josephine and their five children. Josephine’s brother, architect Maurice Webster, designed the home to resemble a Tudor castle, knowing Strong’s affection for his European travel and the writings of Sir Walter Scott. Quarried from local limestone, the house sits on a perch above the Rock River with sixteen bedrooms, nine baths, eight fireplaces, gargoyles and several playful secret passageways. Strong, however, never fully enjoyed this fanciful retreat house, as he died suddenly in 1931. 

Widow Josephine Strong maintained the home just outside of Oregon, Illinois, splitting her time between The Castle and her residence in Wilmette. When she passed in 1961, her children had scattered beyond the Midwest and did not wish to maintain the eclectic property, selling it to the Blackhawk Presbytery as a camping facility for

FPCLG Election Strategy
FPCLG Election Strategy

Dear Election Deniers:

Well, another election is in the books, and I am beyond disappointed. I cannot discern the motivation of individual voters, but the collective count seems to be a win for anger and misogyny. Unfortunately I fear had it gone the other way we would have chalked up a win for complacency. You know my preference, but we all must live with the results and determine how to move forward.

Like many post-election executives, my job now is to discern the outcome’s impact on my business. I know the metaphor may feel unseemly, but as a minister I need to evaluate my industry which is religion, my brand which is Christianity and my model which is Presbyterian. Given the election results, I feel like a horse collar manufacturer in 1920s Detroit. 

I don’t think the problem is the quality of the product—it’s whether or not anyone is buying.

Giving and Gaining
Giving and Gaining

Dear Spam-Call Warriors:

The phone rings. You don’t recognize the number, but you’re waiting for a call, so you say, “Hello?” There’s a long pause and then that strange boip sound that you know connects you to an AI-controlled recorded voice. Yep, it happened again…Spam Call! Against all reason, you try to interrupt sometimes with insults or questions, but the bot hasn’t been trained in irony, so you get back a very disappointing, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Would you like to…” Sometimes you wait and eventually get connected to a live operator. Guess what—even though it’s a living breathing person, they cannot be insulted. There is no expression of annoyance they have not heard before. Of course, they hang up before you can explain your frustration. Their only hope is volume, scooting on past your indignation to the next voice,

No Obligation Subscription - Hoping Inspiration Works
No Obligation Subscription - Hoping Inspiration Works

Dear Subscribers:

Once an organization or association has approved by-laws and built a website, it seems the next project is to create a newsletter or magazine. In addition to collecting dues, the staff, whether volunteer or paid, is tasked with keeping track of the industry’s trends and legislative agendum. Many of these periodicals now exist only online, but who can forget the importance of Potato Chipper Magazine or the National Tire Dealers and Retreaders Association newsletter? (When I was a kid, the latter arrived for my dad at the house each month.)  It matters not your hobby, interest or profession, you can bet there’s a periodical that fits even the narrowest of interest. Some titles explain themselves, like “Private Island Magazine”; others feel a tad more obscure, like “Emu Today and Tomorrow” or “Miniature

If You Don't Feel Full, It's not Righteous
If You Don't Feel Full, It's not Righteous

Dear Hangry Diners: 

Having just stepped away from my morning news feed, I’m inclined to observe that the world is a mess. Of course, 24-hour news cycles and constant doom scrolling would lead even the most stable among us to become unmoored, assuming the great apocalypse is only moments away. But that’s how it works when attention is monetized. The financial incentives are out of whack—the purpose of information is not to keep me informed, but to keep me glued, to awaken in me an insatiable hunger for the next screen. I’m ashamed to admit how well it works, because even as I write this I am tempted to click back on the updates of some story, issue, poll or commentary. It all triggers in me a

Seeking Real Intelligence
Seeking Real Intelligence

Dear Real Intelligence (RI?) Seekers:

Last year my brother Bruce (Prof. Emeritus electrical engineering, Carnegie Mellon University, and Founding Director CMU Africa) was interviewed by CNBC Africa regarding current technological developments on the continent. In the interview, which may be found here, he discussed the importance of context in Artificial Intelligence (AI) learning models. In our conversations, my brother has talked about the vast difference between American and European AI models and African continental models relating to everything from logistics to health care to banking. 

If you were to use models trained with data from legacy countries and inquire as to how developing nations in Africa could improve the delivery of goods and finances, the AI output would most likely commend grand infrastructure projects requiring the construction of massive dams, highway systems and power plants. However, African nations are currently using networks

One Painting is Not an Exhibition
One Painting is Not an Exhibition

Dear Art Dealers, 

From 1870 to 1871, impressionist painter Claude Monet lived in London, where he had arrived from Paris in self-imposed exile to avoid conscription in the Franco-Prussian War. That first exposure to London’s smoggy air inspired the young artist, who was fascinated by what the moisture and pollution did to the refraction of light. After returning to Paris, Monet was determined to revisit London, which he did many times over the subsequent decades.

Among his favorite subjects for painting were the Parliament buildings along the River Thames capturing the various angles of light and fog. Throughout his career, Monet captured those

Don't Try to Be Happy
Don't Try to Be Happy

Dear Happy(?) Campers:

Happiness is a byproduct, not a goal. I heard that quote during a podcast interview last week and it is stuck in my head. 

A little research reveals that Mahatma Gandhi may or may not have said something similar. His abbreviated quote usually reads, “Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.” Except that seems to be a memeification (yes, invented word) of a longer, more verifiable Gandhi quote: “Happiness is a direction, not a place. Happiness

Leisure, A Sign of Failure?
Leisure, A Sign of Failure?

Dear Busybodies, 

Labor Day—that last gasp of summer as we slip our summer whites into storage and prepare for the seasonal responsibilities of harvest. A day for workers to set aside the drudgery of Mondays for one fleeting glimpse of how life could always be had we been born into the luxury of the leisure class. Except these days we no longer mark success as freedom from responsibility, but rather prove our worth by a flurry of perpetual busyness.

Imagine Elon Musk or Jeff Bezos lingering over one more game of croquet on the lawn while sipping lemonade. Or Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg touring aimlessly down a coastal highway, windblown with

Wishing It Were True
Wishing It Were True

Dear Seekers:

This past week I attended a required clergy continuing education program hosted by the Presbytery of Chicago. A portion of the day was devoted to helping us understand the importance of monitoring our stress. When we are under pressure, we are more likely to violate the personal boundaries of others; we become less supportive of their needs, and our tolerance for their behavior wears thin. At the same time, the presenters wanted us to appreciate how stress helps us grow, building our resilience, so they offered this illustration...

Biosphere 2 was a research project constructed in the Arizona desert in the late 1980s to determine if it was possible to create a closed ecological system which, in the future, might sustain human life on other planets. It’s a massive domed structure that replicates

The Gospel of Success
The Gospel of Success

Dear Wealthy Investors:

If you’ve missed the fact that I think a “prosperity gospel” is heresy, then we haven’t talked. Religious hucksters have been around since the beginning of time. Even the early church struggled with that brand of phony. 

In Acts 4.32, we’re told how many people sold property to place the money before the Apostles so they could distribute it to any who were in need. In Acts chapter 5, Ananias and his wife Sapphira wanted in on the action. Christians were digging deep to support the work of the early church. So Ananias and Sapphira sold a piece of property, but they held back