Coffee Pots

I have never found the Lutheran Church’s form of local governance to be much of a problem. We use congregational Voters’ assemblies and Church Councils to do the heavy lifting (although as some congregations have been afflicted by a more business-like structure, these bodies can be called all sorts of secular sounding kinds of things) of handling the “business” of the church. Rarely have I had a problem with these organizations in any of the churches I have served. I suppose that’s because I try to realize there’s a time for me to talk and a time for me to shut up. Voters’ meetings and Council meetings fall into the latter categories. The local congregation belongs to the people, not the pastor.

This brings me to our Council meeting from last night. We had some serious business to attend to–approving the 2012 Budget (hey, we’re in no hurry) and reappointing some folks to positions within the congregation structure (I’m not going to say we short cut the By-Laws of our Constitution because that sounds so tacky but we are dealing with the realities of present day life).

In among the important issues always pops up an item that brings a smile to my face and I make sure I take advantage of any humor I can at a meeting. During my years of serving as a pastor I have been quite surprised I’ve never been run out of town for my attempts at milking the moment for laughter but I view life as being too short to always sit there and being dead serious 100% of the time. One congregation president in Indiana didn’t quite agree with my viewpoint years ago and he told me my efforts weren’t appreciated. I thought the same about him …

Back to last night–it was brought up that a coffee maker had seen its better days in the church kitchen and the question was raised if the church could replace it. Our congregation is somewhat unique in that it has no active women’s group at this time who would never allow such a travesty to befall a church. They would have dispatched a member to deal with said dead peculator pronto, put it out of its misery, and brought a new, robust brewing machine in as a replacement with no questions asked. Women are just that way.

Well, no women’s group, no clear line of handling such matters exists. Now they come before the Council and the discussion becomes a free for all. Accusations are made, “Is that thing still here? I thought we got rid of it months ago.” Followed by this from an engineering type, “Are you sure it doesn’t work?” Several shout back, “Yes, it will never be the same again!”

This comic relief goes on for a few minutes as all are trying to decide who has the authority to make the decision to choose the new coffee machine, where to purchase it, who will pay for it, and, most importantly, what to do with the dead horse–the old machine.

While all this is going on I’m just chuckling to myself because I don’t care one way or the other as the last time I drank coffee was when I was 20 years old and I swore I would never drink that nasty stuff again. So, to stir the pot a little (so to speak) I pipe up and suggest that no matter what size or where they get the coffee maker from, it needed to be chartreuse in color (I make these things up as I go). Thankfully, few people heard me because those who did looked at me as if I had completely lost my marbles.

After our interlude, we got back to business but we all had a smile on our face remembering the saga of the Christ the King coffee pot. May the new one serve us well!

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