I am 45 years old as I write this, which puts me squarely at mid-career. I turned 25 the summer I graduated from seminary, and 65 is the age at which I will theoretically retire, though that’s hard to imagine for multiple reasons.

My peers have started to use this midway point to evaluate their ministries and the trajectory of their lives, which I think is a great idea. Here are some of the questions that I think those of us in our 40s need to be considering:

Vocational

How has my call to ministry evolved over time? I went to seminary to prepare for youth ministry, partly because I had never seen a woman in a lead or associate pastor role. I have worked with youth, but most of my ministry has been as a solo or associate pastor and now as a coach. The essentials haven’t changed, just the shape of how I have lived them out. It can both unleash our imaginations and give us an appreciation of what we have done and learned and survived to look back at the twists, turns, and constants in our vocational journey.

How do I fit with where the Church is heading? The Church is - rightfully so - in a big shift. For some of us that is really good news, and we’re excited to see what comes of this transformation. For others of us this reality is daunting, because the Church of today and tomorrow is very different than the Church we were trained to lead. We need to consider where we want to locate ourselves in relationship to where the Church is now and where it might be headed.

What knowledge have I gained in the first half of my vocational life, and how do I want to use it for good? We don’t go through 20 years of ministry without learning a whole lot - about ourselves, about the God we serve and the Jesus we follow, and about the Church and world. Let’s use that hard-wrought wisdom!

What new challenges do I want to take on in the second half of my vocational life, and what skills will I need to develop? This isn’t necessarily about looking for a new context or role, although it could be. It’s more about considering how we want to grow. What tools do I want to add to my toolkit that would benefit my congregation and me, or even that would just bring delight to them and me?

What legacy do I want to leave in my congregation, larger community, and the Church at large? Maybe this relates to the wellbeing we foster in our communities. Maybe it’s creating pathways of welcome for those who need it most. Maybe it’s naming the gifts in others that they can’t see without help. We can’t control what others say about us once we are gone, but we can do what we’re able to infuse our environments with love and hope.

Personal

How do I navigate the realities of being in the Sandwich Generation? I have a child who is 10 and still wants to be close to his mom most of the time (though that could change at any moment). I have a mom who is 70, hangs out with friends multiple times a week, volunteers in her community, and goes on trips by herself (though that could change at any moment). I feel the tug to be with both my son and my mom. I am not alone, as many of my peers - having gotten into the parenting game late like me - have young children and parents who need increasing amounts of help. How do we roll with this, even as we also serve in a vocation that is physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and sometimes financially taxing?

What is my financial situation? It is generally held that mine is the first generation in a while that has not done better money-wise than previous generations. (This might only be true for demographics that have benefitted from generational wealth.) Many of my peers carry loads of debt from school or mortgages or credit cards. Some denominations offer salary guidelines and generous pensions for ministers, while in others we’re on our own to negotiate pay and choose and invest in retirement funds. Now is a good time to assess our entire money picture, looking both backward and forward to make a plan. Thinking and talking about money is not crass. It is a means of care for ourselves and the people we love.

What support systems have I built for now and for later? In ministry our worlds can become very small. We can mostly know and hang around people in our church and our clergy colleagues. We need bigger circles of care for now and later, including both non-churchy (or at least not our church) friends and professional caregivers such as a primary care doctor we trust and a therapist we can confide in.

Mid-career is a great time for intention-setting. We’re not newbies anymore to ministry or to adulting. We know some things. We probably have some stability, though maybe not as much as we’d like. We want to make our remaining professional years count but not crispy-fry ourselves in the process. I hope these questions can help you in looking forward and backward, and I’d love to hear what questions you’d add to this list.

Photo by Luke van Zyl on Unsplash.

Recently I was talking with a coachee who is leaving her current call. “I’m exhausted,” she said. “No one tells you how tiring it is.” She wasn’t referring to all the mental work of details she’s preparing for her successor or the physical efforts involved in cleaning out the books and files she’s accumulated over a long tenure. (Those are very real too, though.) She meant the grief work - her own and others.’

So let’s talk about it.

It is emotionally taxing to manage the time between when a pastor announces a departure and when the exit actually happens. You are feeling a range of emotions, and so are your parishioners. You might be deeply sad to say goodbye to some people you’ve grown to love. You might feel relieved to leave behind those who have antagonized you or taken up a disproportionate amount of energy. You might be thrilled to go to a new challenge or to take a much-deserved, much-needed break. You might feel scared because you don’t know what is next. You might be miffed that people seem largely unaffected by your news.

On the church members’ end, they might be excited for new opportunities for you. They might feel lost and anxious because they have benefitted so much from your ministry and from your steady presence. They might be angry at you for leaving and even more so for setting boundaries around contact with church folks after you go.

So you have your big emotions and they have theirs. But they are not one-and-done feelings. The process of bringing closure to relationships happens over and over in that pre-departure window. And even with some sense of finality, the tenderness does not go away. So how do you navigate this span of weeks, or even months?

Know that this will be hard. It is hard because you have invested significant periods of time and parts of yourself in this holy work. Thanks be to God for what you have done and who you have been in this context!

Feel the feels. Honor what is going on in you and in others. You are in a thin space, where the buffer between you and God and between you and your people is less substantial than at other times.

Focus on relationships more than details. Yes, it will be good for the next minister to know who the homebound members are and what signature events for the congregation are coming up. But those are notes the new person can get elsewhere, if needed. Your successor cannot bring good closure to your relationships with parishioners.

Take good care of yourself. Don’t fill your last weeks too full. Set up emotional supports such as a video call with a non-church friend or some time with your watercolors so that you can recoup enough energy to do the relational work your soul and others’ must have.

Pray for your people. Pray for them to be ok without you. Pray for them to love their next pastor (and vice versa). Pray for them individually, since you know their specific situations. You will soon no longer be their minister, but you will always care about and want good for them.

I am a firm believer that we do as much ministry in this time between announcing our departure and leaving as we do in all the time leading up to the transition. On behalf of church people everywhere, thank you for wanting to wade through that time thoughtfully and compassionately.

Photo by Nick Page on Unsplash.

“Laypeople might not know this, but many pastors struggle with loneliness. This might seem strange since our work is so people-centered. We are a member of yet isolated from our congregations. There are certain boundaries we must implement to be good ministers. We often must move away from our support systems to find ministry positions. We tend to work long hours, hours unlike other professionals, that make it tough to develop relationships outside of our vocational lives.” Read more about why this loneliness is a problem we must solve and my thoughts on how to do that at the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship blog.

Photo by Sasha Freemind on Unsplash.

Mystery/thriller writer Harlan Coben’s Myron Bolitar series used to be a guilty pleasure of mine. There was a point in the last decade in which I was gobbling up two or three books per week. Then the 2016 election happened, and I took a long, hard look at my reading list. Coben is a great author, but I needed a lot less machismo and a lot more diversity.

I didn’t pick up any more of his books until I needed a quick read last week. I tore through The Boy From the Woods, the first in Coben’s new series. I was cruising along until a character (who bears a lot of similarities to our most recent former president) spouts off a PR plan in response to the release of a video in which he is sexually harassing a woman who might or might not legally be an adult. The character tells his people to put out all of the following messages and more: it’s a training tape about proper workplace behavior, it was a run-through of the woman’s (nonexistent) Me Too screenplay, she was asking for the harassment, the tape was faked.

Again, Coben is a great writer, but I remembered then why I took him off my reading list for my own mental health. The calculating nature of this character was too much for me. How do we work for change in the world when so many people will do anything to preserve their own power?

At the same time I was reading parts of Martha Beck’s The Way of Integrity for my DMin ethics class. (Talk about whiplash.) I grabbed onto one of her concepts in chapter 14: everywhere in nature there are fractals, which are patterns that reiterate infinitely, forming versions of themselves at different sizes. What this means is if we are able to live in our integrity, faithfully doing the internal and external work to which we have been called, that work scales up so that we are shaping the people around us and the institutions in which we participate. It might not be very visible - we must have eyes to see the fractals in nature, much less in human interactions - but it is happening as surely as hydrogen atoms bonding together in rings of six when water molecules collide at low temperatures, creating snowflakes made up of variations on a hexagon shape.

So take heart. Root yourself in your values. Use your gifts. Stay true to your call. You are changing the world from the ground up. If enough of us do this, the lie-perpetuators and power-hoarders don’t stand a chance.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash.

It is now just over two weeks into the Easter season. If you are a Christian minister who was in the pulpit on Easter Sunday, you could not avoid mentioning the women who were called to be the first Christian preachers.

It didn’t matter which Gospel you used. In Matthew, the Marys are commissioned by both the angel and Jesus to go tell the disciples about Jesus’ resurrection. In Mark, the young man in the tomb gives a similar directive to the Marys and Salome. In Luke, the women who had come from Galilee with Jesus encounter two men in dazzling clothes who announce to them that Jesus is alive, and the women relay this message to the disciples. And in John, Mary Magdalene is the first person to encounter the risen Christ, and he asks her to let the disciples know that he is about to return to God. The details vary from account to account, but in all of them, faithful women are first called to proclaim the resurrection, which is the heart of the Christian story.

And yet, plenty of people still believe that women are not fit for ministry. Even more think they wouldn’t make good lead pastors, even if they don’t say this quiet part out loud. I’ve written elsewhere about how churches can do the work to be ready for a female pastor. But do you know who could potentially be the best ally for clergywomen? Male senior pastors, particularly those with clergywomen in second chair positions (e.g., associate pastor or ministers of specific age groups or programs - I’ll shorthand them all as associate pastors for the purposes of this post). If that’s you, here’s what you can do:

Go by a similar title. By this I mean if you ask to be called “Pastor [your name],” call the clergywomen on your staff “Pastor [their names]” rather than simply their first names (or, heaven forbid, “Miss [their names]”). Encourage church members to address them that way too.

Close the wage gap. I cannot tell you how many churches I know of in which the male senior pastor is making six figures and the women on staff are barely making a subsistence wage. (Yes, there can be differences in levels of experience and responsibility that must be factored in, but not to the tune of an $60-80K disparity.) Find ways to raise the clergywomen’s salaries or sacrifice some of your own to make take home pay more equitable.

Advocate for a parental leave policy. Whether or not you have young children or children at all, ensure there is a just parental leave policy in place at your church. (If you’re not sure what a just policy looks like, contact your judicatory and ecumenical colleagues for examples.) If a new child comes into your family, use the policy in full so that it becomes seen as a parent thing, not a woman thing, to go on this kind of leave.

Collaborate with clergywomen whenever possible. Look for ways to partner with female clergy at your church and other churches. Don’t just limit yourself to teaming up with ordained women, though. Pull women into your church’s lay leadership pipeline.

Share credit liberally with clergywomen when genuine and appropriate. “She did this this thing. Isn’t it great?” “We did this thing together. It is wonderful to have such a great partner in ministry!” On the flip side, support clergywomen when they are attacked by critics and naysayers for illegitimate reasons.

Model good boundaries. Some lead pastors work 60+ hours a week but tell their associate pastors that they don’t want them to overfunction. It doesn’t work that way no matter how good the intention. Senior pastors set the tone for associate pastors’ (many of whom are women) expectations of themselves and churches’ expectations of the entire pastoral staffs. The associate pastors will seem less available, interested, and capable if they stick to the hours they are paid for, and they will juggle an unsustainable load (which can include parenting younger children, caring for aging parents, and carrying the mental load of the household and often that of the church) if they don’t.

Amplify female voices. Welcome your own female clergy and laity into preaching and worship leadership. Invite women outside your church to preach, teach, and lead. Look for gifts in women in your church that they don’t yet see themselves. This creates a culture of call for women. I didn’t see a woman on the chancel for any reason other than singing or making an announcement until I was in seminary. (The first time I did, I sobbed with joy and relief that I wasn’t alone or hearing God incorrectly.)

Be a great reference. Many clergywomen will eventually want to be lead pastors. Talk up your female associate pastors and other clergywomen you know to others before they even begin looking for lead pastor opportunities. (This is especially helpful since some churches now search for a pastor exclusively using informal networks and looking for ministers who aren’t currently seeking a new position.) Give them outstanding recommendations. Celebrate when they leave to take on larger roles.

If I had to boil all this down, I’d simply say, “Normalize women in leadership and share your power.” That’s easier said than done. But some male senior pastors are already doing aspects of this. (Thank you!) And what could be more true to the Gospel in this season that started with women being the first ones trusted and commissioned by the Divine to preach the good news than to support clergywomen’s voices and leadership?

Pastors are in a tough spot these days. The Church as an institution is in the midst of major change that pre-dated the pandemic but was quickly accelerated by it. Those we looked forward to seeing after Covid still haven’t rejoined us. The budget is tightening. The volunteers are burned out. And each person in the pew comes bearing big worries, some of them personal and many of them shared: political rhetoric is becoming more and more divisive, and we know that injustice, climate change, and gun violence endanger each of us. That means we are all a little on edge. That makes us all a little harder to shepherd.

When we are anxious, we can get stuck in the parts of our brain designed to protect us. Our brain is wonderfully made to focus all our resources on survival when we face a physical threat. Unfortunately, this set-up is less helpful when needing to have a hard or uncomfortable conversation than it is when we are faced with a hungry or threatened predator. Our brain chemistry locks us out of our creativity and openness to possibilities and instead urges us to take what seems like the shortest route to safety and stability.

Enter: anonymous feedback. An unsigned note or a verbal message passed through a third party might seem like the best way to give your pastors a quick check on the pulse of the congregation (or, at least, of one member of it) while sparing both of you some trouble. But here’s why that feedback might not be as effective as you hope:

It separates the criticism from needed context. For feedback to be useful, the one being critiqued needs to be able to ask further questions (e.g., what was it about this that really troubled you? Who specifically are the people upset by this?). And often there is a pastoral care issue beneath a criticism, which cannot be unearthed and addressed if there's not conversation. 

It doesn't follow scriptural witness about conflict. Matthew 18 tells us that the first step in resolving friction is for the offended party to go directly to the one who offended, even (perhaps especially) if the offense was unintentional. Subsequent actions include bringing other people into the conversation if necessary. Nowhere in Matthew 18 is there mention of anonymous feedback.

It puts the receiver of the feedback in an awkward position. Family systems theory teaches us about triangulation, in which someone is roped into being the middle person in a relationship rift. That triangulated person might have little to no stake in the presenting issue, but they are caught between the hopes and needs of two people with which they must interact.  

It puts the pastor in a defensive posture. If your pastor doesn't know who is giving this feedback, that is a recipe for high anxiety: who is upset with me? Who is looking more closely for me to slip up? Whom can I trust? These questions are distractions from - not conditions for - fruitful ministry. 

It doesn't contribute toward forward-looking solutions to the issue. If a situation is concerning enough that you need to offer feedback, it's important that you are also willing to help look for a way to resolve it. That requires working together with those involved, which isn't possible when feedback is given via an unsigned note.

It deprives both parties of the chance to strengthen the relationship. It might seem counter-intuitive, but sometimes the most trusting relationships come when the people involved were willing to be honest and vulnerable with each other about disappointment or disagreement. Take that chance!

Luckily, we have more helpful ways to take our thoughts to the people who lead us. Lay leaders can set these expectations and procedures in place to get the kind of information that they and the pastor can use:

Consistently refuse to entertain anonymous criticisms. Make it policy that unsigned feedback will be trashed, remind the church about that policy regularly, and stick to it. People will have to decide whether the issue is important enough to them to be more direct in their feedback.

Create clear feedback loops and educate the congregation about them. What, then, is the best way for pastors and lay leaders to receive comments? Name the how (e.g., by filling out a form? setting up an appointment?), the when (e.g., anytime except right before worship), and the who (e.g., the pastor or personnel committee). 

Don't wait until annual reviews to share feedback with the pastor. Many ministers dread annual reviews because it has become a time to pile on all the congregation's frustrations and survival anxieties from the year prior. Feedback is much more helpful when it is specific and timely. 

Encourage positive feedback as well. Your pastors need to hear what you appreciate about their ministries. They will be better able to receive your critiques if they know you see their gifts as well as their shortcomings. As with negative comments, specific and timely feedback is the most useful. 

We all get anxious and frustrated at times. That means we care. But those feelings are also signals that we need to make an effort to tap into our higher brain functioning by interrupting the idea that we are in imminent danger (by such means as taking deep breaths, going for a walk, or watching a funny video). When we do, we can have productive, substantive conversations that allow us all to be the body of Christ together, working in concert to share the love of God in a troubled and troubling world.

Photo by lilartsy on Unsplash.

Take heart! Though there are many challenges for pastors right now (as outlined in this piece), there is also much to celebrate. Click here to read the second article, which focuses on all that is good, based on my recent survey of clergy.

Photo by Carson Masterson on Unsplash.

October is Pastor Appreciation Month, but like all Hallmark observances, this observance really points toward the need to value who your pastor is and what your pastor does all the time. Recently Rev. Joanna D’Agostino, pastor of Lakewood Congregational Church in Ohio, told me about the ways her congregation supports her. She graciously agreed to guest write a post about what this care looks like, what it means to her, and how other churches might show appreciation to their leaders. Below are her good words in response to my questions.

On a recent call with Laura, I was sharing about some of my frustrations with ministry and church, time-management and focus, and just the heaviness of it all. But I felt the need to clarify to her, “I have so much support from my church.” Ministry is really hard, but it’s a game-changer to be a part of a church that values my health and my clarity of call and recognizes that we are in Covenant with one another. I’ve felt this at both churches I’ve served over the course of 10 years of ministry, but I don’t think I’m in the majority in that regard. 

What are a few specific ways your congregation has shown that it values your ministry?

Small ways: They laugh with me. We’re silly together. It’s really in the little things – we have a bust of William Shakespeare that our custodian moves to a different, unexpected part of the building every week or so, just for fun. Recently someone put googly eyes on it, which makes it even funnier. We have a pretty robust musical theater ministry, which means every once in a while someone pops into the office with some costume elements they picked up at the thrift store. We test them out, and we just laugh.  

I have occasionally talked about the fact that I played the bassoon through college, but stopped playing when I graduated because I didn’t own one. Recently a church member, who is the band director at a local high school, came into worship and handed me a bassoon reed (it’s a double-reed instrument) and said, “You now have a bassoon on loan in the music office. We expect you to play in the church talent show.” (Yes, we have a church talent show!) So, now I’m trying to learn how to play again. It doesn’t seem like your traditional understanding of “support,” but it reminds us to find joy. Always find joy. 

Larger ways: They pay me well. It feels so obvious that justice-oriented churches should pay their pastors well. Unfortunately, it isn’t a given. I know budgets are tight and times are hard. It’s not always simple. But the reality is many pastors don’t know how they’re going to pay their energy bill, and it is really hard to do good ministry from a place of personal scarcity. In many ways, that’s a whole different blog topic, but I guess I’ll just say this: It is worth the budgetary stretch to pay your pastors well. (P.S. I’m not trying to say I’m making millions over here; just that I have enough.) 

They trust me to make decisions about my time. I’ve heard a lot of pastors talk about their congregants critiquing their schedules: that they’re in the office too much or not enough; they don’t attend enough meetings or need to do more home visits; they should work on their sermons more or be more visible in the community. Time management for pastors is incredibly challenging. Ministry is in the interruptions– and there are so, so, so many interruptions. And on top of that, many of those interruptions are confidential, so we can’t explain why our focus for the day changed so drastically. Especially in a small-staff church, the work of a pastor falls almost entirely under “other duties as assigned.” We might have a plan for the day, but one interruption can send it off the rails. The point is – hearing critiques from church members about how we spend our time is really just salt in the wound that leads pastors to feeling so deeply misunderstood and underappreciated for the hard work of prioritizing when everything feels important. 

I’ve rarely met a pastor who wasn’t working hard. It means a lot to be surrounded by people who really believe we’re doing the best we can.

What difference does that support make for how you show up as a pastoral leader? 

The churches I’ve served have helped me to see that I can lead from a baseline of grace. That means I don’t have to show up perfectly every time. Not every sermon is going to be out of the park. Some days I’m going to be in a bad mood. I show up knowing that the worst case scenario is that “tomorrow is another day to try again.” The worst-case scenario is that someone will come to me and say, “You know, I had a bad day too. You’re not alone.” Sometimes the most beautiful pastoral care moments flow from just being human with other humans. 

And, to return to the point I made about laughing: perfection isn’t very funny anyway. Messing up is funny. Being a human with other humans is funny. And humor is so very, very full of grace. 

What advice would you give to a church wanting to show appreciation to a minister, particularly in this season when pastoral burnout is rampant?

1. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Choose your battles. A bulletin typo isn’t the hill to die on, I promise.

2. When was the last time you asked your pastor how they’re doing? Not, “Good morning, how are you?” but a real, genuine, “How is it with your soul?” Ask it. They might cry. The answer might not be what you want to hear. But I cannot overstate the importance of just letting pastors (or anyone, really!) know we genuinely care about their well-being.

3. I remember once when a colleague asked two questions that I have carried with me: 1. What brings you the most joy in your ministry? 2. Does your congregation know that? I really think it’s easy to lose track of why we’re in this work to begin with. It’s especially easy to lose track of it if we haven’t let our congregation know. If you’re a congregant, my advice is: ask your pastor about their call story. Ask them about where they see God in their ministry today. Ask them what brings them joy in ministry. If you’re a pastor you might need to offer some prompting: tell your call story. Tell your church where you saw God this week. Tell them why you’ve dedicated so much of your life to this messy human institution. Because when we begin to tell stories about discipleship and grace and joy, we start to remember why church matters, and that’s where the Spirit thrives. 
   

It’s happening. The wave of people leaving pastoral ministry is gathering momentum. For some it’s because they are so dang tired. For others it’s because they’re being nudged to use their gifts and energy in other spaces, whether that’s a different kind of ministry, another field altogether, or unpaid-yet-no-less valuable labor (e.g., caring for young children or aging parents). I think that underneath all of these faithful responses to leaving a congregation, though, is a question that is both practical and existential:

Does my ministry matter?

Pastors are asking this because as they were preaching God’s command to care for one another these past two years, God’s people were fighting about whether they had to wear masks and acknowledge - much less address - systemic racism.

Pastors are asking this because they have taken on more than ever, yet some in their churches are asking them to do more.

Pastors are asking this because their congregants are citing Covid caution as their reason for not coming back to worship while their social media feeds tell a different story.

Pastors are asking this because the world is on fire, and they feel increasingly less able to identify where and how to make an impact.

Pastors are asking this because the pandemic made them re-examine everything about their ministries.

Pastors are asking this because some members are eager to go back to the way things were, while clergy know there is no going back.

In other words, this crisis of vocation and identity is totally understandable.

And, what you do matters so much, pastors.

You love us like Jesus does, even when we aren’t very easy to love.

You tell us that God made us and called us good, no matter what others might call us.

You invite us into communities of belonging, and what could be more sacred than that?

You nurture our spirits, challenge us, and offer us hope, whatever is happening around us.

You sensitize us to God’s invitations.

You celebrate life’s highlights alongside us.

You accompany us through the deepest of difficulties.

You prophesy, speaking on God’s behalf even when we want to put our hands over our ears.

You urge us to be better, to be the good God breathed into life.

You remind us that we have all we need as long as we share.

You provide stability when everything - including the Church - is changing.

You send us out, inspired to be Christ’s hands and feet and to bring a little more of God’s reign right here to Earth.

You do the behind-the-scenes work that few ever know about that makes all of the above possible.

Everything is hard now. It’s not just you, and it’s not your imagination. If you need a break, please take one. If you need to live out your calling in a new context, look for that outlet. God wants good for you too. But know that who you are and how you show up and what you do - it’s so faithful, and it’s valuable beyond what anyone can pinpoint.

Blessings on you, pastors, beloved bearers of God’s love and abundance.

Photo by Emily Morter on Unsplash.

When I coach pastors who are searching for a solo or senior pastor position, they sometimes say, “This church is looking for a visionary leader, a vision caster. That’s not me.”

The clergy claiming that they are not visionaries are gifted, imaginative, and dedicated. They have started new ministries. They have led people through all kinds of challenge. They have developed leaders who work alongside them. I can see how they don’t see themselves in the mold of the stereotypical charismatic pastor who alone develops a direction and proclaims, “This way. Follow me!” I reject, however, the idea that these ministers don’t have the ability to be a visionary leader. It’s simply a different model.

I didn’t have good words for this until I listened to an episode of Brene Brown’s Dare to Lead podcast. The guest was Dr. Linda Hill, a professor at Harvard Business School and chair of the Leadership Initiative. Dr. Hill is an expert on managing for collective creativity. On the podcast she makes these key distinctions:

“So management was about dealing with complexity, leadership was about dealing with change…when you’re trying to lead change you have a vision, you communicate that vision, and you try to inspire people to want to follow you, if you will, to the future….And the other thing about when you look at leading innovation, it’s really about the fact that it’s not about individuals having aha moments, it’s about collaborations amongst people who have very different perspectives and you know how to do discovery-driven learning, so really what innovation or leading innovation is about is how do you get people to co-create the future with you, not follow you to the future. So that is a very different process.”

One more time for the people in the back: leading innovation is about getting people to co-create the future with you. This kind of approach is warranted when your purpose is clear but the future is not. Is there any better descriptor of - any greater need in - this time in the Church, in the world?

This is the kind of leadership that the people I coach are made for, that they have already been doing. Whether they have been called into glass cliff situations or had to step up in times of major transition or seen possibilities where others did not, they have invited others into dreaming of and planning for and experimenting with the way forward.

You were made for such a time as this. Step into your authentic leadership, invite others to do the same, and watch what God will do.

Photo by Shane Rounce on Unsplash.

Yes, your church will want to speed up the search process to put an end to the discomfort and uncertainty of not having a settled pastor. Over at the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship blog, though, I share what gifts of a search your congregation will miss if you hit the fast forward button. Click here to read the article.

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash.

Theodore Roosevelt once said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” I’d second that and add that it’s also a killer of calling.

Lots of pastors suffer under the weight of comparison. Sometimes it’s parishioners who are holding up one clergyperson against another, whether in their words or in their thoughts. “Our former minister did it this way.” “If only you could be more like the pastor at the church across town.”

At other times we take our own measurement against another clergyperson. “I wish I could be the beloved [preacher, pastoral care giver, etc.] this other minister is.” “How does that pastor get it all done? I feel exhausted, and I’ve only accomplished a fraction of what she seems to do.”

Comparison comes from a scarcity mindset. Someone (you, me, or another person) is not enough. Together we do not have enough. It keeps us from fully connecting with one another, because we feel defensive to protect what is ours. As a result, we do not come together in the kind of community that celebrates and inter-weaves the distinctions among us. We do not fully trust God’s intentions or presence, thinking something essential is being withheld from us.

The impact for pastors (for anyone under the microscope of comparison) can be devastating spiritually, emotionally, relationally, and often even physically as our exhaustion from trying too hard adds up. We feel unseen, unheard, not valued. We can’t imagine that God has brought us, with our lack of skills or experience, to serve these people. Or we can’t imagine that God has brought us to serve these people, with their lack of graciousness.

Here’s the deal. In his book Flourishing in Ministry: How to Cultivate Clergy Well-Being, Matt Bloom noted there are more than sixty (!) separate pastoral competencies. And that was before the pandemic, during which many ministers added other skills out of necessity. Here, then, are some things that clergy and congregants need to know:

No minister is great at every pastoral competency. It simply isn’t possible for mere mortals do everything well.

A good-fit leader at another church might be a mismatch for yours. Ministry is highly contextual.

Some gifts are more visible than others. Anyone can hear and see how a pastor preaches (though, it should be noted, not everyone will appreciate the same preaching style). Many aspects of ministry are somewhat invisible. Only particular congregants might know the fullness of a clergyperson’s pastoral care to them. The importance of administrative skills is sometimes only apparent when these gifts are lacking.

Over-functioning is not a virtue. Our culture teaches us that our worth is measured in how much time we put in at work. This is not a biblical value.

Job descriptions matter. Some churches don’t even have them! This is a recipe not just for comparison but also for conflict. Congregations need particular focal points and constellations of gifts in their pastors in different seasons. Job descriptions make it clear what the pastor is responsible for and, by turn, what the congregation’s role is in mutual ministry. This clarity sets appropriate expectations and serves as a touchstone when there are disagreements.

Knowing your skills, values, and purpose is crucial. This goes for clergy and congregations. We will always be rolling a big boulder up a steep hill, the weight of it threatening to crush us, if we aren’t clear-eyed about who we are and what we’re about.

As Christians all of us have only one person truly worth comparing ourselves to - Jesus - and we will always come up short as we are continually redeemed and remade. So instead of measuring people against each other, let’s lean into who we have been created to be and how we’ve been equipped. If we can do this, we can bring our distinctiveness together in unity toward helping bring about God’s reign.

Photo by Dietmar Becker on Unsplash.

Lately I have heard many variations of one question: what does sustainability in ministry - in anything - look like in this weird, hard time? It’s a great question. Thriving might feel out of reach right now for those who are really struggling. (By the way, it’s ok to struggle. We all do sometimes!) But maybe we can reasonably aspire to durability until the possibility of flourishing breaks the plain of our horizon.

Here are some thoughts about what we might be able to say if we are locked into sustainability:

I am not in this alone. I have people. People to minister alongside, peers in ministry I can be honest and strategize with, loved ones beyond my work context who welcome my entire self.

I/we have the means to figure this out. Our world is serving up a lot of sticky wickets. But neither is the challenge too high nor my/our talents too negligible to deal with what is before me/us, even if there’s a lot of trial and error involved.

I can take a break without the world crashing down around me. I know that everything is not riding on me - or that if it is, I and those around me could use a lived reminder that that’s not healthy.

I am good (and so are others). Not perfect, mind you, but fearfully and wonderfully made and deeply loved just as I am by God.

I see glimmers of where I/we are making an impact. I am not just shouting into the void - at least not all of the time. I am helping some people feel seen and be connected to God and one another, and I am planting other seeds that might bear fruit I never know of.

I can laugh - and laugh about more than just the absurdity of things. There is delight in my world through the things I take in via my senses and through the people I encounter.

I am using my gifts, even if it’s not in the ways I expected. Who knew that this talent could be put to that use? Well, now I do.

I have room to maneuver. I can’t control everything, as much as I’d like to be able to. But there are some areas where I can and do exercise some agency.

I might not be the biggest fan of this season of life/ministry, but it is only a season. I know things won’t be this hard forever.

I notice and respond kindly to what my body is telling me. I need sleep. I need food. I need a brain break. I need an appointment with my doctor or therapist. Our bodies are our wonderfully made to give us the information we require to take care of them - and they are so very worthy of that tending.

I am growing in my sense of who I am and what I can do. There is some sense of wonder: “could it be that I am here for such a time as this?” This time might not be my first choice, but it is the time I have.

Which of these statements apply to you? What are some tweaks you could make to grow into the ones that don’t? What statements would you add to or take away from this list?

Photo by Appolinary Kalashnikova on Unsplash.

I am very excited to start a new blog series that features clergywomen who are putting fresh expressions of ministry out into the world. My hopes are to amplify their great work, to spark readers’ imaginations, and to encourage pastors who are thinking about new ways of living into their call.

Today I am delighted to feature The Reverend Julie Hoplamazian, Associate Rector of St. Michael’s Episcopal Church in New York City. She is also the founder of Faith on Pointe, which offers online ballet classes that integrate dance and spirituality. I love that Julie’s ministry pushes against the old spirit/flesh dichotomy, that it is so body positive, and that it brings together play and prayer. I asked Julie to share about her ministry and the hurdles and helps to it. Check out her responses below.

What is your ministry all about?

This ministry is all about an embodied, creative spirituality, rooted in the knowledge that we are created in the image of an incarnate, creative God.

You've created a brand-new ministry, unlike anything else out there. What are the sources of your inspiration, courage, and support?

First and foremost, I'm inspired and encouraged by the people I've been privileged to meet through this work. To find so many people who know, deep in their bones, that dancing is spiritual has been a great joy and energizer. On the flip side, I suppose you could also say I was inspired by my own loneliness in this area and the hope that there were others like me who wanted to dance and integrate their faith into it. And I'm constantly inspired by so many colleagues who are creating their own ministries. Seeing others live into their authenticity inspired me to do the same.

What obstacles have you faced to launching your ministry, and how are you overcoming or managing them?

Can I be completely honest? My biggest obstacle is my impostor syndrome, that I have no right to be teaching this stuff -- despite my theological training and years of experience as a ballet teacher and a priest. The recurring voice in my head says that I have nothing new or original or groundbreaking to offer. On a related note, I also struggle with the "business" side of it: the self-promotion, growing my email list, advertising the classes I teach, and so on.

How do you overcome this?

I mean, I don't. It's probably never going to go away. I'm lucky that I have a spouse and some close, trusted friends who are unwaveringly supportive and remind me to get my head out of my ass when I get stuck in my self-doubt loops. And, deep down, I'm connected to my "why." I know why I want to do this and why I'm passionate about it. That root connection is absolutely necessary to keepin' on going.

For whom is your ministry really good news? Why?

This ministry is good news for folks who want more embodied spiritual practice, and who want to integrate creativity into it. I've done a lot of research into the connections between ballet and theology, and there's a lot of richness there. Rather than being two separate (albeit often parallel) disciplines, there are actually several common "doctrines" they share, and uncovering that is the key to this being a genuine spiritual practice.

What's the best way for people to get more information about your ministry?

My website Faith on Pointe has it all! I send out a monthly newsletter that you can sign up for on the website - that's the best way to stay connected. You can also find me on Instagram (@faith_on_pointe).

Thank you, Julie, for sharing so openly about your ministry and about all that is going on in and around you as you invite others into it!

Look for another ministry innovator spotlight next month.

Many of the pastors I talk with are operating within viewing distance of overwhelm, that fog of fatigue and disorientation that can’t be fixed by a good night’s sleep, a vacation, or maybe even a sabbatical. They want to remedy this situation, but all the demands on them are so tangled that it’s hard to know which one to pull on first.

In March I am offering a four-week cohort to help pastors think about where they might tug on a thread to begin not just to unravel their overwhelm but also to build toward ongoing wellbeing. The timing of this cohort is intentional. It’s designed to see you through the first half of Lent and give you tools as you approach Holy Week, often one of the busiest weeks of the year for clergy.

We will use these four weeks to consider the points along the Results Cycle, a model developed by Thomas Crane:

If the current result we’re getting is that sense of overwhelm, then we can intervene anywhere else in the cycle to get a different outcome. In week one, we’ll talk about what the result is that we do want - what is our understanding of, our purpose in, our ministry? In session two we’ll examine and replace the beliefs that keep us locked in overwhelm using Martin Seligman’s three Ps (personalization, pervasiveness, permanence) as a framework. For our third gathering we’ll consider our tolerations (in other words, what we’re putting up with) and take steps toward habits and systems to eliminate them. And in the final week we’ll think through strengthening relationships via setting and communicating boundaries and guardrails. The goal of each cohort meeting is to find one small tweak that can make a big difference in how we move about the world.

Of course, the real benefit of this cohort is the participants - the shared wisdom and companionship you will offer one another. I will provide tools and the space, but you will bring the oomph, the encouragement, the heart. Together we will find daylight through the soupy fog.

Find out more and register by March 1 here.

Last summer my husband, son, and I took our first trip to the beach in three years, a long stretch away since we live in a coastal state. We were so eager to get sand in every crevice and to feel ourselves buoyed by the waves that we plunged into the ocean, noting but not getting too hung up on the red flag flapping by the beach access walkway. We were far from alone in being carefree – the shoreline was dotted with happily bobbing heads.

It was a lot of fun. It was also nerve-wracking to watch my guys go out farther than I was comfortable. The undertow was a force to be reckoned with in those red flag conditions. No matter how strong a swimmer you are, the current can suck you under and disorient you without warning.

As far back as a year and a half ago, once it became clear that Covid was not going to be a mere blip, I started talking about the impending tidal wave of pastoral transitions. The constant pivots, the isolation, the extra work, the inability to do the ministry to which they’d been called in satisfying ways, the conflicts over pandemic precautions and racial injustice and the 2020 election – all of it was going to be too much to allow some clergy to remain in their positions. And indeed, there has and continues to be unprecedented turnover in pastoral leadership.

I wonder, though, whether a tidal wave is still the most helpful image. I think back to being up to my knees in ocean water, seeing my fearless, capable husband and son disappearing under waves and holding my breath until they popped back up. That undertow is sneaky, I kept saying. It can get you no matter how tough you are. Now I stand on the fringes of congregational ministry, coaching some pastors and offering friend support to others. I know they are gifted and called. I’m familiar with the very good work they do with creativity and care. And, the fatigue that comes from continually fighting the current of all that ministry demands right now is obvious in their slumped shoulders, undereye circles, and shallow breaths. Some of their bobbing heads go under the waves and do not re-emerge in my line of sight. Instead, a few eventually come up down the shoreline at another congregation while others drift out to leaves of absence or to different ways to make a living.

This is where we are. Covid and all that has accompanied it have worn us down, and the undertow can pull under even the most stalwart among us. This is not a personal failing. It simp­ly the reality of where we find ourselves at the two-year mark of pandemic. That doesn’t mean that everyone is doomed to the whims of the tide, however. If we can find support, we can remain one of those (relatively) contentedly bobbing heads out in the water. Here’s how judicatory leaders and congregations can help:

Judicatory leaders

Pastors – all pastors – need respite right now. They could use your help to get it. They need your permission and encouragement to take time away. They need your advocacy with and education of their churches so that they don’t fear for their jobs if they do take time off. They need your connections to find coverage for preaching and pastoral care, or at least your willingness to lead worship online or pre-record services for your entire judicatory. They need funding from you to get a change of scenery, something we could all use after two years of semi-lockdown. They need referrals to counselors and spiritual directors and coaches who can help them navigate whatever comes when they return from an extended sabbath. ­This is a moment when you can bless all of your clergy and their congregations through your work, judicatory leaders.

Congregations

Churches, your pastors love you. And right now they need a break from you so that they can continue their good ministry with you. Be generous with your leaders in every conceivable way. Give them more time away than usual, certainly. If you can afford to cover a retreat experience or sessions with a professional who can help your clergy tool up for wellbeing, do it. But also be lavish with your own time, if you have it. Offer to make congregational care calls. Volunteer for tech crew or event set-up. Step up to teach Sunday School, even if only on an occasional basis. Above all, be generous in your judgments of your pastors, who are undoubtedly doing the best they can under prolonged stress. Be flexible when circumstances change. Tell your pastors that you see (even though you don’t see it all) and value what they are doing.

The red flags are out, friends. Let’s all keep an eye out for one another and invite each other to come out of the battering wind and waves as needed. This is what it will take to continue being church in this ongoing pandemic.

Photo by Kai Bossom on Unsplash.

Last year Advent and Christmas looked different than before for churches that took Covid seriously. In some contexts, worship was online only. In others, max capacity was set by guidelines from the CDC rather than the fire marshal. Masking and physical distancing were required. Musical offerings - often a key aspect of holy observances - were limited. Fewer non-worship seasonal activities such as Advent fairs and Sunday School parties felt safe to schedule. It was really hard to restrict our traditions, our interactions with others, our bodily presences, in this way. It wasn’t how any pastor or layperson would prefer to experience December. But we did it, even if sometimes grumbling or lamenting, for the good of our neighbors. The promise of vaccines in early 2021, along with the Advent message of hope even in perilous times, pulled us through.

Here we are a year later, now confronted with a hope that is much more complicated. Many of us have been vaccinated and even boosted, a true miracle born of the wisdom and abilities God gave scientists. But enough people here in North America decline to get vaccinated and/or to take continued precautions against Covid such that the pandemic is still very much with us. And while some locations have weathered the Delta surge, we are all now staring down the barrel of Omicron. The TBD impact of this variant and the resulting ambiguity around how many precautions we still need to take at church are making this December a moving target for planning.

The threat of the virus itself is just one of many factors making pastoral leadership particularly difficult right now. Parishioners are understandably tired of - and thus lax about - masking and distancing. One pandemic year might not have dinged giving much, but in year two there are big concerns about budgets. Formerly stalwart members have ghosted their churches to go elsewhere or nowhere. Congregations who hoped to bounce back to what church looked like pre-Covid are uneasy with changes based on pandemic gleanings (or necessities). Because of these realities, even some of the wise, steady presences in congregations have begun to complain about unfixable situations and to open doors to conflict. Meanwhile, pastors’ work continues to be as much or more about technology and ever-changing decisions regarding what is safe to do as it is about worship content, formation, and community engagement, deferring their return to the heart of the work they have been called and gifted to do.

I hear all of these factors weighing heavily on many of the clergy I coach, and together they are pushing some pastors to the point of grief at a time when most of them expect to be buoyed by the energy of the season. On top of ministers’ vocational grief, there is the personal grief all of us share. We have been deprived to some extent of the connection for which we are built. We have missed so much of what we looked forward to the past two years. We have been pushed to the brink by worry about health and finances, by additional caregiving responsibilities, by the pandemic (and everything else) being politicized and weaponized.

I see you, pastors. You are faithful, creative, tenacious, and compassionate. Many of you are also so tired in body and soul. Please be gentle with yourselves. Find your appropriate outlets for blowing off steam. Make sure you’re getting enough movement and sunlight and nourishment. Know whom you can lean on for helpful support. Plan for time away. Ask for what you need. And, if all of this is not enough to sustain you physically, emotionally, and spiritually, take your leave (whether for a season or for good) before you are fried. You are serving Jesus’ church, and he lovingly holds it in his hands no matter what role you assume in it. You are God’s beloved, no matter where you work.

The ways that you thoughtfully choose to show up - or not to show up - in this season of holy waiting are helping to midwife a Church that will be more innovative and responsive, that will re-focus us all on God’s priorities and Christ’s love. Advent literally means “coming.” You are the bearers through your presence and your intentional absence not of optimism or toxic positivity but of grounded hope for an emerging time, a new way of being. I am so grateful for who you are.

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash.

Pastors are some of the last true generalists. Their day-to-day work is rich and varied, which is one of the aspects of ministry that is most appealing to some clergy. A pastor is:

• A proclaimer of scripture, interpreting the meaning of ancient texts for our modern lives

• A spiritual caregiver who accompanies people through life’s celebrations and devastations

• A face of the church to the larger community, building a two-way bridge over which people can cross to connect with those similar to and different from them

• An equipper of people as they discover and utilize their gifts and live into God’s calls on their lives

• A leader or facilitator of important conversations and processes about faith and being the Church

• The holder of a bigger picture, a vision into which the congregation is attempting to live

• An administrator of details related to that larger vision

Aren’t we lucky to have leaders who are made for this kind of compassionate, hard, life-changing work?

Now, the list above is not comprehensive, and pastors do the work above in varying percentages according to their contexts, strengths, and staff situations. But it’s a good start, and I offer it in order to contrast it with what a pastor is not:

• The savior of a church

• The receptacle for a congregation’s anxieties

• The person who gets yelled at because someone can’t say what they feel to the person they’re actually mad at

• The paid help that does all the ministry (or even non-ministry tasks) church members don’t want to do themselves

• A scapegoat for conflict or for the numerical decline of a congregation

• A one-person planner and implementer of strategies to attract young people

• A warm body to occupy the office 40 hours a week so that she is there whenever a person wants to drop by and shoot the breeze

• A compensated buddy

• A referee of political or personal conversations

• Someone to make people in the pews feel comfortable and finished in terms of their theology and contributions to the world

There is so much upheaval in the world that we’re all looking for a person, a practice, or a perspective that seems solid, and leaning on pastors in list #2 ways feels like it could be that thing. The effects of doing so are significant, though. Clergy aren’t just thinking about leaving their current congregations. They are contemplating leaving ministry altogether, because they don’t feel free to pastor in the ways they’ve been called. And that in turn leaves congregations without the spiritual guides they need, thereby lessening the possibility of faithful meaning-making, deep connection with fellow disciples, and real transformation.

Mercifully, there is grace for us all when we disappoint and are disappointed by one another. And, I urge church folks to consider thoughtfully the ways you interact with your pastors. Let them love and lead you. (And love them in return!) Let them challenge you, because in that gentle nudging is the promise of spiritual growth and richer relationships with others made in God’s image. Let them invite you into mutual ministry, because ministry is not the work of the paid staff alone. If you open yourself in these ways, you won’t want or need your clergy to fulfill list #2, and you will be journeying arm-in-arm with your pastor closer to the heart of God.

Photo by Florian Schmetz on Unsplash.

“I dread pastoral care.”

This is the secret shame of a lot of ministers, especially introverts. For those of us whose energy is depleted at the very thought of making a phone call or scheduling a visit, looking at a list of names can automatically prompt us to curl into a ball or pull our hoodies down over our eyes. If you can relate, here’s what I’d like to say to you:

Not loving pastoral care is not the same as not loving people. I trust the beauty and tenderness of your heart and believe that God would not have called you into pastoral ministry if you didn’t care deeply for those in your charge.

Everyone is gifted differently for ministry. In his book Flourishing in Ministry, Matt Bloom cites a study that identifies sixty-four different competencies pastors are called upon to perform. (Thanks to pandemic, that number has no doubt grown.) You will enjoy and be good at some of these tasks more than others.

There are many ways to show compassion and provide spiritual companionship. Phone calls and hour-long visits are not the only means. Sure, you probably need to be ready to spend time with people going through an acute crisis. At other times, though, you might want to send a handwritten note, which is a tangible, lasting sign that you are thinking of someone, or reach out by text, which might be greatly appreciated by those who don’t like talking on the phone or don’t have time for a lengthy conversation. Beyond individual contacts, you demonstrate pastoral care in the effort you put into tending to the business of the church, writing sermons, and planning ministries with your congregation and community in mind.

Caregiving ministry is not yours alone. Even in small churches it is good to cultivate the idea that spiritual accompaniment is the work of the community. You will not always be the pastor of your congregation, and members in it will need continuity of care through leadership transitions. Your ability to encourage and equip people for this good work ensures that follow-through.

For those visits you do need to make, get help with scheduling. Sometimes calendaring is the most daunting aspect of pastoral care. See if your administrative assistant or a layperson who has a good sense of the church and a love for the phone to set up appointments.

Above all, remember that you are not alone in finding this aspect of the work especially hard and that you are not a bad minister because you find pastoral care particularly challenging.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash.

By now many clergy have been introduced to the good work of the Nagoski sisters on burnout, which they define as emotional weariness, the inability to give a crap anymore, and the persistent sense of yelling into the void. The Nagoskis talk about completing the stress cycle as a way to avoid the desire to collapse in a heap or run like your hair is on fire in the opposite direction from your current one. This means going all the way through the feeling (once you’re safe from the stressor itself) instead of stunting the emotion. If you haven’t read Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle, I highly recommend it. The book offers some practical tips for mitigating a persistent problem for people, and particularly women, in the helping professions.

But even as I read Burnout, there was something nagging at me. It wasn’t until reading a recent piece by culture study author Anne Helen Petersen that I figured out the issue. When we talk about burnout, we largely frame it as a personal problem: we need to set good boundaries and take better care of ourselves. And while that is absolutely true, completing stress cycles alone will not fix what I think is weighing heavily on so many ministers - demoralization. Petersen quotes an article on teachers by Doris Shapiro:

“Demoralization occurs when teachers cannot reap the moral rewards that they previously were able to access in their work. It happens when teachers are consistently thwarted in their ability to enact the values that brought them to the profession.”

Many teachers approach their vocations as callings, just like pastors do. And I see a direct connection from the difficulties teachers have faced during and even before Covid to those clergy are reckoning with. Yes, ministers work too much and bear responsibility (though not sole responsibility) to tend to their physical, mental, emotional, relational, and spiritual health. But underneath all the stress is a bigger problem, which is that pastors were called to partner with God in transforming lives and communities, and many of the people in our pews mightily resist even the smallest of changes. That is neither a personal problem nor an easy fix.

We cannot control what those in our care do. They might not ever change, and if that’s the case, it might be time to move on. But we can adjust how we show up as leaders and what questions we ask so that we invite our people to consider new modes of being and operating. We can do what some see as “soft” work but is actually wisely playing a long game, building the trust, spiritual muscle, and imagination required to make permanent changes. We can start with curiosity, simply saying, “Tell me more” or “What’s important to you about that?” We can bring in spiritual elements, musing aloud, “I wonder what God is up to in this.” We can incorporate regular reflection as individuals and teams to celebrate what we’ve done well and learn from our mistakes, taking the sting out of “failure” in the process. If we take this posture with our congregations, it might just initiate incremental experimentation that can pick up momentum.

Teachers, unfortunately, have limited say in curriculum standards, teaching methods, and learning benchmarks. Pastors have much more freedom. Let’s leverage it, encouraging and noticing a widening gap between what we’ve always done and what is possible so that we all can live fully into our callings and not become mired in the quicksand of demoralization.

Photo by Luke Porter on Unsplash.