Planning and privilege
Raise your hand if you’ve been taught that your church should develop a 3, 5, or even 10-year plan. (I’ll wait.) Hey, me too!
When seminary and denominational leaders started to look toward the corporate world for answers to membership decline, many adopted the strategic plan model. It seemed like a good way to regrip the control that seemed to be slipping through our fingers. We even put religious language to it, though sometimes it took on a subconscious prosperity gospel message: “If we are faithful in these steps, God will reward us with…” Unfortunately, strategic plans have often proven to be a set-up for discouragement (though they are sometimes necessary for resource-driven projects like a capital campaign). After all, when we are dealing with people rather than products, we cannot predict that these efforts in Q1 will result in those “profits” in Q4. Discouragement can lead to panic, and panic can lead to doubling down on an inward focus that belies the church’s call to be Christ’s hands and feet in the world.
The pandemic has shown us that the control we seek though a 10-year trajectory is largely illusory. In fact, those who are often locked out of leadership such as people of color, women, and the LGTBQ+ community have been telling us this for decades. The ability to plan far into the future is a function of privilege. Strategizing is possible only when we think we have certain things that we can count on. This stability, though, can be out of reach for groups that don’t get to make the rules. And when the world shut down, those of us with privilege got a taste of the chaos that these communities experience on a daily basis.
So in solidarity with these groups and with acceptance of the unpredictability of these times, let’s kick the strategic plan to the curb where we can and take a different approach. Let’s name our values, both those we live and those we yet aspire to embody. (You can do this by examining patterns in your history and in your current ministries. What do we do? Where do our resources go? How do these realities align with who we say we are?) Let’s discern our overall purpose, that big-picture invitation from God that gives us energy and direction. And let’s use those values and purpose to dream big but plan in stages, taking time to assess at the end of each:
What were our expectations? What did we learn about our expectations and about ourselves as the people who hold them?
What do we need to celebrate?
What do we need to shift?
What do we need to communicate, and to whom?
What elements can we build upon?
How did our efforts help us to live toward our understanding of who we are and what God is calling us to be and do?
Where did we see the Holy Spirit at work?
What relationships were formed or strengthened?
What did we learn about our congregation, community, and/or corporate calling?
This way we are engaged in ongoing discernment - which is really a way of building our reliance on God - not simply enacting a one-and-done plan that gets shelved when the first benchmark isn’t met. We also celebrate regularly (which opens up our brains for greater creativity) and grow our ability to roll with what is going on in our world and in our congregational lives. Because, after all, a church must be looking for where God is at work and nimble to be poised for long-term spiritual growth, which is the kind of growth that really matters.
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash.