A recent article in the Harvard Business Review highlights the ways different types of tasks are unevenly distributed in work environments. Glamour work encompasses highly-visible, big picture assignments that set the doer up for recognition and promotion. Office housework includes all the tasks that are necessary to keep things moving – such as taking notes, managing schedules, caffeinating colleagues, and making sure there aren’t science experiments growing in the office refrigerator – and that go largely unnoticed. Not surprisingly, HBR found that women and people of color are much more likely to find themselves stuck with this essential-yet-thankless work.

While HBR’s research was geared toward the business world, the same realities apply in ministry. Women and people of color often serve in positions that are more likely to result in lateral moves than in increased responsibility and credibility and the pay that go with them. One reason is socialization. We* are conditioned to be the ones to keep the trains moving. Others expect us to be good at it, which we often are. We have been encouraged to be humble, and we’re punished when we’re perceived as being braggy, bossy, or bitchy. Another reason is exceptionalism: when one of us manages to break that stained-glass ceiling, it’s because she is an extraordinarily-gifted anomaly.

Since many of us minister in systems where 1) we are called by laypeople rather than assigned by a superior and 2) judicatory leaders intervene into unhealthy and unjust systems infrequently, what do we do in order to claim more of those “glamourous” roles? Here are a few thoughts:

Maintain a robust web presence. On the internet we can communicate the fullness of our ideas without interruption. True, we might have to deal with trolls and mansplainers. But they cannot edit our original thoughts, which we can then share through social media.

Own your purpose. Clarify what you have been called to do, the strengths and qualities you have for that work, and the ways you have already been inhabiting the fullness of your call. This is essential to owning pastoral identity, which has a noticeable impact on your pastoral presence. This specificity will also help you sort what tasks – many of which likely fall into the office work category – to say no to.

Amplify one another. Even when we feel we can’t toot our own horns, we can toot someone else’s. Make a pact (spoken or unspoken) with other people who are going underappreciated to do this for one another.

Tell stories. If saying, “I did this thing and that thing and here’s how it was a rousing success” seems icky to you, work on your telling of an anecdote that relays that same information in a way that helps other people know and like you as they’re learning about what you’re capable of.

Ask for feedforward. The standard annual review can mix a negative tape that plays in your head for the next twelve months. Instead, help your leaders structure a conversation that helps you think about how you’d like to grow in ministry together, setting you all up for bigger and better things.

Network as much as you can. Go to conferences. Connect with people in the kinds of positions you’d eventually like to see yourself in. Look for committees doing transformational work to join.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the church is experiencing the pangs of something new as women and people of color struggle/begin to emerge from the background. The more even distribution of office housework and our ability to move into glamour roles will promote innovation, collaboration, and renewed faithfulness to the mission God has for us all.

*I can only speak personally from the perspective of a white woman. I am relying on the stats in the HBR article plus conversations and a range of reading to assert that people of color share some of these same experiences, likely amplified. I welcome dialogue and am open to correction.

A couple of weeks ago I was interviewed for a Baptist News Global article titled “Clarify those expectations, experts tell pastor search committees.” Two people were quoted in the piece: Craig Janney, the reference and referral guru for the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, and me. Craig is a bona fide expert. Churches and clergy from all over the country call him for help with ministerial searches. But the title said experts – plural – and the article included several statements from me that expounded on the headline.

I just got a promotion, I slowly realized.

In my shock, here were my inclinations:

Duck and cover my head with my hands, as if someone was about to throw something at me. (I actually did this.)

Make a snarky comment on social media about how much credibility the article had if it counted me as an expert. (It took all my willpower not to do this.)

Email Craig and apologize not only for the number of my quotes in the piece but also for the appearance of my photo above his. (I did not do this, as Craig is a humble and generous person who referred the reporter to me in the first place.)

I was suffering from an acute case of impostor syndrome.

After a few deep breaths, I started to think it through. I was on my first search committee as a junior in high school. I have been in the search process with more churches than I care to count in fourteen years of ministry. I have observed searches from the perspectives of an interim minister and of a coach working with clergy in transition. I have consulted with search teams. And the Louisville Institute saw fit to award me a grant to come up with a better-resourced, more spiritually-grounded approach to search & call.

In other words, I have done some things. OK, I can claim them. But what will it take for me to wear the clothes of someone with some expertise – and not feel like I’m swimming in them like the tween Josh at the very end of the movie Big? Time will tell.

In what roles do you have some growing room? Which roles are too tight? And what roles fit you just right? When you wear these clothes, give yourself a double thumbs-up in the mirror and a big ol’ Fonzie “heyyyyy!”

“I helped with…”

“I was part of a team that…”

“I collaborated on…”

The ability to cooperate with others toward a shared goal is an essential – and sometimes underrated and underutilized – skill in a leader. Without it, we’re all a bunch of free agents who don’t have anyone to refine our ideas, pool our resources with, or tame our wild hairs. And humility, the underlying trait that makes cooperation possible, is a mark of a Christ-like life.

But. When we have done a thing, when we have created or supervised or equipped or stabilized or trained or written or founded, we must be able to own it. Not brag about it, but lay claim to it. And here’s why:

• It’s the truth. Truth leads to trust among the parties involved, and trust leads to optimal individual and collective functioning.

• We set others up for failure when we don’t acknowledge our role. If we don’t take proper credit, chances are that someone else will actively seek or passively receive it. Then those folks are given more authority and more responsibility – without the experience and know-how to draw upon.

• We’ve got to practice presenting ourselves accurately to people who have power over our vocations. We must show that we can play well with others. But if we completely blend our leadership identity with that of the people we work with, search teams, judicatory leaders, and those who have the clout to recommend us for positions are left to wonder and assume about our personal capabilities. We miss out on opportunities, and others miss out on our leadership.

• Our self-esteem suffers when we downplay our role. I believe that many people – especially we womenfolk – are generous with success but selfish with failure. By that I mean that if something goes well, it’s because of all of us. If something goes wrong, it’s because of me alone. When we fall short, we should take our lumps but also examine the larger context. When we triumph, we can reflect on how we contributed to the success as a means of grasping and building on our strengths.

• It honors our God-given abilities and calling. We are each fearfully and wonderfully made to be certain people and do certain things. Because of how God equipped me, I was able to do a thing! Acknowledging our role, then, is testimony.

What, then, have you done this week, this month, this year? Make a list, then tuck it away for the next time you have an evaluation, need to fill out a profile, or feel down about your abilities. Pull it out and remember that “I did a thing!”