Ministries and Groups at FCC

Stewardship

2010 General Stewardship Campaign Begins

FCC's Stewardship Campaign for fiscal year 2010-2011 officially begins February 14th. Our theme this year is both literal and figurative. Research is beginning to show empirical evidence that generosity is literally good for the body. What has long been suspected--that generosity releases the feel-good hormones--is starting to be observed. A good night's sleep, nutritious food, and exercise make you feel good. Being generous makes you feel good, too, and there's a physiological basis for it!

Generosity is good for the figurative Body as well. FCC--as part of the Body of Christ--thrives when its members are generous. Think of all we accomplish for our own members and for people in the community and larger world. We are only limited by our generosity.

Prayerfully consider how much of your annual income you will keep in the upcoming fiscal year. Prayerfully consider how much of your income you will return to support God's work in the world through FCC. Then fill out a pledge card and return it to the church. We are grateful for your decision as soon as possible, and preferably by March 21st.

Generosity

My grandmother was a magnificently generous person. She was generous with her time, her knowledge, and her possessions. I loved to stay at her house where she would spend time with me in the kitchen, teaching me to bake or make candy. An artist and a musician, she was the first person to mark a "C" on a treble staff for me and show me on the piano where to find middle C. She let me use her paints, canvases, charcoals, drawing pencils, and then encouraged me to arrange still lifes and try my hand at painting and drawing. She always had enough time. Was I curious about the plants in her garden? She had time to help me repot something from her little greenhouse. Was I struggling with arithmetic? She had time to teach me to play cribbage so that I would be able to add numbers quickly in my head. When I went to Iowa State University, she would drive up from Des Moines for my concerts or sorority events. She always had time.

Her generosity of time extended beyond me. Grandma had time to teach my mother (her daughter-in-law) to sew, time to reupholster furniture for us, time to babysit when my parents traveled. When her daughter died suddenly, leaving two little, little boys (my cousins), she helped my uncle raise them for many years. When my brother came down with mono while in college, Grandma took him home with her and cared for him until he recovered.

It might be easy to dismiss my grandma's generosity of time as a luxury she could afford once her own children were grown, but my father describes his childhood in much the same way. Often nephews or friends, down on their luck, out of work, in between successes, would move in and stay with my grandparents. It was always all right. There was always enough.

My grandfather traveled the state of Iowa selling textbooks for Harper & Row Publishers, and he never earned more than a minimally modest salary. But my grandparents were frugal, they never spent beyond their means, and they were wise and steady savers and investors. Some of my grandfather's compensation was in the form of Harper & Row stock.

In 1987, a year or so after my grandfather died, a rather amazing thing happened. Another firm acquired Harper & Row Publishers. In one day, my grandmother's modest stock portfolio surged in value, her financial situation vastly different than it had ever been. What did she do? She remained generous--extravagantly generous. She began to systematically give away her money. She had always donated to her church, and shared with others what she had. But now! She had so much fun! She loved to hear how people or organizations used her gifts. She increased her giving to her church, Plymouth Congregational in Des Moines. She increased her support of the design scholarship at Iowa State in memory of her daughter. Great grand babies received generous gifts to begin their college savings plans. She had such joy in those final years of her life, as she managed her finances and gave them away.

Luke 6:38 says: If you give, you will get! Your gift will return to you in full and overflowing measure, pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, and running over. How true this was of my grandmother. She endured many tragedies in her lifetime: the death of her own mother when she was still a little girl, the unexpected death of her dear daughter, the long and lingering death of her husband, my grandfather. And yet, she was a woman who radiated love and compassion and joy. All that she gave--in time, shared knowledge, loving care, and yes, even money--came back to her. Pressed down. Shaken together. Running over.

Last March Darrell Boone wrote a devotional for the publication, "The Upper Room". He talked about an older man in his congregation who supported man church and community ministries on a significant scale. Darrell thought, "If I had more financial resources, I would really like to do some things like that." But then Darrell realized that the source of benevolence--the source of generosity--is not the checkbook or the bank account, but the heart. The key is cultivating a generous heart.

That is true for all of us. We all have been generous at times in our lives. For some, like my grandmother, generosity is integral to all of life. For others, generosity is an acquired--and maybe intermittent--state of being. But generosity brings so many benefits to the giver as well as the recipient. Like a healthy diet, plenty of sleep, exercise and fresh air, cultivating generosity in our hearts yields blessings we can't even begin to quantify.

--Jennifer P. Streit

The Customer vs. The Shareholder

I'm quite analytical by nature. I come from a long line of business people and I have a curiosity about economics so it should come as no surprise that I've been considering various economic models for FCC. Because I serve on the finance committee, I think about church expenses; because I chair the stewardship ministry, I think about church revenue.

This morning I was contemplating the difference between giving and pledging. More specifically, I was thinking about the argument I have heard for not pledging. The argument goes something like this:

Church to Member: We would appreciate your pledge commitment up front for the coming year so that we can plan our budget.

Member to Church: In a regular business, the company doesn't have customers promise purchases for the upcoming year. In a regular business, the company makes forecasts and hopes the customers like the products in the upcoming year.

That's interesting, isn't it? What if our members just paid for the products and services they like at FCC?
--"Good sermon today; let's put $50 in the offering plate."
--"I liked the anthem; here's $20."
--"I don't like that a) color b) coffee c) carpet d) committee e) insert your pet peeve here. Let's not contribute."
Maybe the church needs to be more responsive to its customer base. Free market competition!

But are our members customers, or are we shareholders?

Shareholders invest in advance. Shareholder investments underwrite product development, marketing, capital equipment, human resources. Shareholders take risks. They put up money in an act of faith because they believe in the company.

When we think of ourselves as shareholders instead of customers, our relationship with the church changes. We're willing to invest our time and money in this venture we call First Congregational Church. We understand that we need to be competitive in hiring the best people. We keep the building and equipment in good condition. When we don't care for the product, we work to change it instead of just refusing to buy it.

FCC needs more shareholders. Let's change the conversation.

Church to Member: We would appreciate your pledge commitment by March 15th so that we can plan our budget for the 2009-2010 fiscal year.

Member to Church: I'd love to invest! Count me in. Here's my pledge card.

--Jennifer P. Streit

Anxiety

Have your children or grandchildren ever participated in the Flat Stanley school project? The child mails a paper doll ("Flat" Stanley)to a family friend in another city or state. That friend hosts Flat Stanley as a guest for a few days, and then mails him back, usually with accompanying photos and souvenirs from his visit. In this way, students learn about other parts of the country or world.

In the fall of 2000, our middle son sent his Flat Stanley to our friends who were living with their four children in Beijing. Flat Stanley had a wonderful vacation, and he returned with a photo album filled with pictures of him at the Great Wall, at the international school, at Tiananmen Square. The descriptions of his adventures were priceless. It was all so enticing and we were captivated! We contacted our friends--would they host our family of five 3-D people?

Today many more people travel to China, and so the trip doesn't seem as exotic as it did even nine years ago. But in 2000, China was still a pretty remote destination for a family from Illinois. And our children were young--five, eight, and eleven. We had our moments of hesitation, but shortly after the New Year we purchased five airline tickets for a triangle trip--Chicago to Hong Kong to Beijing and then home--to be taken in late March. And I had no sooner paid for the tickets than I began to be anxious, very anxious.

For the next two months I worried. How would the children cope on the 18-hour non-stop flight? What if someone needed emergency medical care in Beijing? Could I trust a hospital? I didn't worry about actual starvation--I figured the boys could eat three meals of rice each day and make it through a week--but I was concerned about their willingness to eat foods very strange to them. I even worried about being a pedestrian in a city where everybody drives on the left side of the road! Could I grab the youngest one fast enough if he stepped off the curb into the path of a bus? Language, directions, customs, the unknown... I lost sleep. My heart raced. I lost my appetite. Mid January to the departure in March was a period of constant second-guessing. Eight weeks of my life were consumed by worry.

Finally the moment came to walk onto that non-stop flight to Hong Kong. And what happened? The most magnificent week unfolded--remarkable, thrilling, exotic experiences to remember over a lifetime. Yes, the flights were long, but the boys handled them well. No one needed emergency medical care; we enjoyed interesting meals; no one stepped off a curb into the path of an oncoming bus! Why had I worried? Why had I given up two months of my life to anxiety?

In Luke 12: 22-31, Jesus says, "And which of you by being anxious can add a cubit to his span of life? If then you are not able to do as small a thing as that, why are you anxious about the rest?" Why indeed? I didn't expand my life by worrying; I shrank it. I lost a lot of time to worry, and for what result? Even if the trip had been a complete disaster, what possible benefit would I have gained by spoiling the preceding eight weeks as well?

As we live through this period of economic malaise, anxiety crouches at the perimeter of our lives, waiting to pounce. Faith and gratitude, replenished by our life together at FCC, are the antidotes for worry. As you consider your pledge commitment to the church for the upcoming year, be reassured by the words of Jesus: "Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life."

In retrospect, the lesson I learned from the eight weeks of worry may have been expensive but worth the lost time. Psychoanalyst Fritz Perls (1893-1970) said, "Anxiety is the gap between the now and the later." When I find myself slipping into anxiety, I try to shift my mindset to one of gratitude for the present. I move from pointless and unproductive worry to focused and productive action. The trip to China may not have added one cubit to my span of life, but it expanded my life, and for that, I am grateful.

--Jennifer P. Streit

Faith

A couple years ago I decided to get serious about exercising at least some every day. I take a yoga class and I lift weights at the Y, but my favorite choice is to walk. For various reasons, the best time for me to walk is a little before 6:00 in the morning. In the spring and summer, this is a delightful time to be out. The air is cool and filled with the sound of waking birds, the lake is still, and the sky is glowing with new light. In the autumn and winter, however, it is just dark, dark, dark. My route has very few street lamps and, quite frankly, unless the moon is full and still hanging low in the sky, I really can't see the street surface. I just trust that my balance and reflexes and memory are good enough to keep me from tripping or stepping into something I shouldn't.

This past November as I walked through a particularly dense and dark section of my route, I had an "ah-ha" moment. "This is faith. This is literally stepping forward in faith. Faith in God to keep me safe? Faith in myself? I don't know, but I cannot see where I'm going, and yet I'm still intentionally moving forward."

Isn't this the proverbial leap of faith? Isn't that what the Bible calls us to do? Walk on the water. Ride out the storm without fear. Take a chance. Step into the unknown. Risk. Embrace (figuratively) a God we can't touch (literally). But when does it become recklessness instead of faith?

I do have my limits on these walks. I've decided it's foolhardy to walk when the thermometer reads below zero. And if there has been ice or freezing rain overnight, I've decided it's reckless to trust my balance and reflexes to save me. I stay indoors and ride the exercise bike.

The more complex issues in life require deeper contemplation than my choice of the day's exercise. We are faced with so many choices and decisions, and most of the time we have imperfect and incomplete information to guide us. Life is full of too many unknowns and unknowables. When should we take a leap of faith, and when should we stand on the edge of the cliff and search for a path to scale down into and then across the valley to the other side? Where is the line between faith and recklessness? How do we know?

Let me be even more specific. How do we know how much to pledge to our church? We'd love to be extravagantly generous, but what if we lose our job? Or the roof has to be replaced? Or our medical bills exceed our insurance policy? Does God want us to be hungry, wet, cold, or sick? Surely we are expected to be prudent and budget for our temporal needs.

Matthew 7:7-8 says: Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For every one who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened.

In my own life, I have found that the best way to understand what God wants from me is to ask Him. I pray. I'm pretty direct. "God, what should I do? God, where am I going? God, I'm confused. Help me figure this out." I pray for judgment and discernment. Of course the next problem is to wonder whether the answer that comes is from God, or perhaps is just my own consciousness. Are God and my consciousness inextricably woven together? Am I kidding myself? How do I know? Faith is scary business.

But I keep asking, and seeking, and knocking. Even when I can't see the road ahead, I continue intentionally walking forward doing the best I can in faith. May your own asking, seeking and knocking reveal to you the answers to life's questions--even the question of how much to pledge to FCC.

Jennifer P. Streit

First Congregational Church

of Crystal Lake, IL

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