As the notion that church should be a family thankfully (hopefully?) fades into the ether, we need a new metaphor for the kind of belonging we hope to experience ourselves and to extend to others.* I think community could be that idea, but the word is so overused that it’s in danger of being meaningless. I’d like to share two experiences of community I’ve had as a way of drawing out what it could mean for congregations.

Karaoke night at the bar

My best friends and I decided to mark the end of our first year of seminary by going to karaoke at a nearby dive bar. I had never been to a karaoke night, much less performed at one. But there was something about this place that immediately drew me in. The bar was full, which gave it a certain energy. There was lots of support for those brave enough to sing. Rather than keeping to their own groups, people circulated and enthusiastically greeted newcomers. When I returned to school in the fall, Trackside became my regular Wednesday night spot. It didn’t matter if I had an 8:00 class on Thursday (that’s what naps are for) or of I wasn’t feeling my best (that’s what ginger ale is for). I was there - and I was singing. Now, I’m not a good singer, but I had so much fun getting up in front of others and putting on a show. I tapped into a different part of my personality than my front-facing introvert/seminary student, and everyone in the place cheered me on, just like they did for everyone else. I took my mom once, and she recalls everyone shouting my name as I came through the door. I took my mentoring committee for ordination, and that night is still what some people on that committee remember most about that process.

The comic shop

Currently, the place where I see community best embodied is at the local comic book store. I don’t really read comics, but from the first time I accompanied my husband and son, I was warmly welcomed. So is everyone else, even on event days (Free Comic Book Day, Wonder Woman Day, Batman Day) when the store is JAMMED with customers and local artists selling their creations. Those special days are usually fundraisers for local organizations like the domestic violence shelter and the animal shelter, so the store is keen on supporting the local community. More important than the welcome I have experienced, though, is the hospitality I have observed. The Comic Strip is a safe harbor for the LGTBQIA+ community. My own kid was greeted like a hero returning from war when we moved back to the area, and the shop runners and local artists still talk about the characters he has developed and cosplayed over the years.

It probably hasn’t escaped your notice that my two examples of community are in no way church-related. That’s not to say that I have never felt like part of a church community. It is to say, though, that I think most congregations have work to do. I want church to be a place where everyone, from newcomers to long-timers and from kids to adults, feels that they are wanted and that they would be missed if they didn’t show up. I want church to be a meeting spot for cross-pollination of different ideas and people who wouldn’t otherwise interact with one another. I want church to be a laboratory where people can use their gifts and try new things while getting a lot of support for those efforts. I want church to be a space where everyone can be their truest, most beloved selves. I want church to be sacrificially and intimately tied to the world around it, being the good and highlighting the good that others are doing. These are the aspects of church that are sometimes lacking, and through the travail that was the pandemic, they have also become my non-negotiables. This is what community is for me; this is the church to which I want to give my time, talents, and treasure.

*I could create a whole other post about the problems with calling church a family. I’ll just share a couple of points here, though. Families are often insular, looking out for their own and making it hard, though often unwittingly, for others to join in. And some families tend to harbor dysfunction that is very harmful to those most affected by it.

Photo by John Cameron on Unsplash.

Note: the blog is moving to Substack! I will cross-post articles here and there in September, then post only on Substack from October onward. You can find me here on Substack.

I'm really proud of my mom.

For a long time she has been feeling restless in her congregation. She greatly respects the pastors. She feels seen and loved by her fellow members. But a primary reason she joined this church was because my dad, who died a year and a half ago, was comfortable there. Now he's gone, and the theology and worship style don't fit her. She knows everyone there approaches her as a widow, which she is, but she's a very active one who doesn't want to be reminded constantly of her loss.

So Mom has been visiting around, and she thinks she's found her place. Having ministers for a son-in-law and daughter, though, she knew she shouldn't ghost her former congregation. She texted one of the pastors and asked to meet with him. Here's what she said during that conversation:

She gave thanks for the gifts of the ministers and the church's care for her. These pastors were so attentive to her and to my dad during some really rough years. Their support was essential, and she told them so.

She explained why she was leaving. It had nothing to do with conflict, and it was a hard decision. But she worships best through traditional hymns. She is more able to engage in Bible study with a particular theological bent. This congregation doesn't offer either.

She noted that she even though the congregation was no longer a fit for her, she celebrated that it was a great fit for others. It's wonderful that some people experience Jesus through praise hymns! Everybody worships differently.

She asked the pastor what she should do about her church responsibilities. She doesn't have major leadership responsibilities, but she does have some congregational care commitments. She didn't want to leave anyone in the lurch.

I thought this was a very healthy approach. For the record, I am the proud of the pastor too, who was my pastor when I was a youth. He told Mom that he wants her to find the church where she can heal and worship and grow, wherever that might be. Then he blessed her on her way. I think all ministers, at our best, can pastor people in this way as they leave our direct care.

These are the kinds of conversations that ministers and church members need to have. So many laypeople drift away, knowing they need something different for their current season of life but not wanting to hurt their pastors' feelings. But here's the truth: uncertainty and ghosting are much more painful for ministers than honesty and vulnerability. And departing laypeople don't get the closure they need to be able to get deeply involved in a new faith community.

I want to encourage both pastors and members to be open to - even to invite - some discomfort for everyone's benefit. Then each party can authenticity bless the other for the diverged journey to come.

Photo by Junseong Lee on Unsplash.

Even before the pandemic, I, like many of you, had begun thinking about how the Church needs to shift in order to be Christ’s body in the world. The twenty-first century has offered Jesus followers new awareness around individual and collective power (both having and lacking it), big questions to ask and challenges to overcome, and an increased number of tools for connecting with and on behalf of others. Covid-19 stripped us down to the studs, allowing us to see what is essential in a faith community. And now we as the body of Christ are moving through lingering exhaustion, fighting an illness that keeps popping back up (though thankfully with more ways to mitigate it now), and wondering which way to go next.

I don’t think any of us has answers about specific models of church. I know I don’t. But I think the characteristics of a flourishing church in 2023 are coming into focus. This month I will be sharing my thoughts on them via an alphabet of the evolving Church.

This week: letters U-Z. (See A-E here, F-J here, K-O here, and P-T here.)

Unity. I don’t mean politeness or agreement about things that, in the long run, don’t really matter. I’m talking about the kind of unity that is rooted in shared purpose. I’m talking about hanging in there with one another, even when there are hard conversations to be had and conflict to work through, because we are following God’s two greatest commandments (Mark 12:28-31) - not our own disparate agendas - to the best of our understanding and ability.

Values. Over the past few years I have really come to appreciate the exercise of identifying our core values, the foundational commitments that we are living into (individually and/or collectively) when we are intentional and authentic. When the pandemic hit, these values - if we were clear on them - became the touchstones. Nothing looked or operated the same with Church, but if we were operating out of our values, we were doing faithful ministry. In this time of ongoing change, values will continue to tether us to our purpose and allow the Church to have far-reaching impact.

Wonder. The life of faith is one of wonder, not just in the sense of wonder-ing or questioning, but also of awe. Isn’t it remarkable what God can do in, around, and through us? Small things, immeasurable things, and everything in between. Isn’t it unfathomable how deeply God loves us? Enough to send Jesus into the world in as vulnerable state as I could imagine - a newborn, birthed by a young mother, delivered far from home, hunted by a jealous king. What might be possible for us as Church if we fully inhabited that wonder?

(E)Xperiments. Now is not the time to spring back into all the church programs you did in The Before. It is also probably not the time to latch onto big, long-term commitments as a congregation. Instead, try something new, preferably small and time-bound, that seems like it aligns with your mission and for which you have some energy and willing participants. Then debrief and learn from it, applying what you now know either to try it again or to attempt something else that might be an even better fit with a more fruitful outcome. There is no fail here. It’s all fodder for discernment.

Yearning. Church shouldn’t be rote. It shouldn’t be mere obligation. It should be a community that speaks to our deepest longings, whether that’s to connect with our Creator, be seen and valued, to find true companions for the spiritual journey, and/or to band together with people as committed to making change in the world as we are. How are we as Church nurturing and speaking to that yearning in all that we do?

Zeroed-in focus. I think Covid broke congregations of the desire to be all things to all people, or at least I hope it did. Our church doesn’t have to offer a thing just because the congregation down the street does. (There are different churches, not to mention denominations, for a reason.) I’d love to see congregations take a good look at what they have, what they do well, and who is around them, then figure out what they want to do and how they want to show up for others. God can work with that!

I hope this alphabet series has offered some food for thought in a time of continued upheaval. I have great hope in the Church, and it’s time for the Church to reorient from being an unquestioned part of many people’s lives to living and speaking faithfully closer to the margins. That’s where Jesus operated, and it’s where we can both make big change and be changed ourselves.

“Back in the 1990s, when I was a teenager, youth ministry was relatively straightforward. My peers and I met for junior high and high school Sunday school and then attended worship. We came back on Sunday evenings for a less formal worship service and youth group (which often involved outings such as laser tag, mini golf or a scavenger hunt, plus the requisite pizza dinner) and on Wednesday nights for churchwide supper and seventh -12th grade Bible study. The youth schedule largely aligned with the adult schedule, and attendance was pretty consistent week-to-week and across Sunday mornings and evenings and Wednesday nights. 

This is no longer the world in which we live. Extracurricular activities associated with school spill over into all the times formerly considered off-limits for non-church obligations. The definition of regular church attendance has changed rapidly – and continues to morph –  as much social, academic and work life is lived online more so than in-person. For all of these reasons and more, the model of youth ministry must also evolve.” Click here to continue reading this article on the CBF blog.

Photo by James Baldwin on Unsplash.

Recently I published an article on the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship blog about “Becoming a hybrid congregation.” It is essentially a part three in the “Is your congregation’s future hybrid?” series. (You can find parts one and two on my blog.) While the pieces on my blog are more about discerning and planning, the CBF post is about big picture thinking about whether and how being a hybrid church aligns with your congregation’s identity. You can find the CBF article here.

Photo by Chris Montgomery 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.

Because of my work across seventeen denominations/faith groups and counting, I define my ministerial context broadly: the mainline Protestant church in North America. Even so, there are variations on a couple of themes at play in almost every coaching relationship I have with clergy and congregations.  

The first is the difficulty that church members have talking honestly to and being real with one another. Lately this challenge has manifested most obviously in political and cultural polarization. We rarely engage in vulnerable conversations with those who share our pews about how our faith impacts our civic engagement, use of privilege, or interactions with people different from us. This shrinks our discipleship to a personal relationship with God, to a commitment we share about and act on only at certain times and in particular spheres.     

But the problem goes beyond these bigger picture issues. Within our own congregations we can find ourselves so relationally hamstrung that we are not even able to tend effectively to the practicalities of doing church, such as talking about money, dealing with everyday conflict, or raising up new leaders. We interact at a surface level so that no feelings are hurt, and this lack of authenticity dings our trust in one another and prevents us from discovering our collective capacity for doing good. For too long we’ve been taught that niceness is the same as love, that our Jesus was meek and mild instead of a Savior who invested deeply in us by seeing and valuing us for who we are, telling us the truth about hard things, and giving us the power to forgive and heal.  

There is an incredible opportunity available to us in this season in the Church’s life. As we emerge from the pandemic, we will need to re-introduce ourselves to one another and to our larger communities all over again. Each of us has been changed by our experiences of the past year and a half, and even though we’ve found ways to stay connected during the pandemic, they have not fully captured the range of our griefs and graces. We can slowly and thoughtfully structure processes for sharing our experiences, worshiping together and more fully knowing and being known by one another. We can continue to utilize these processes going forward, building on them when the next tricky conversation arises. When we no longer feel so isolated even as we’re surrounded by people, we will be more ready to look beyond the sanctuary walls to partnerships and challenges that need the energy we’ve been using to guard our hearts. 

Next week I’ll share another big challenge I see for the Church in this season and the possibilities that accompany it.

Photo by Casey Thiebeau on Unsplash.

When social distancing is finally in the rearview mirror, it will feel both joyful and strange. And once that novelty wears off, at church we could be looking at one another like we're semi-strangers.

Yes, we’ve found ways to stay connected during the pandemic. But those means have not fully captured the range of our experiences or the significant changes we’ve undergone. We will need to get to know one another all over again, and we'll have an opportunity to know and be known by one another more deeply than we did pre-pandemic.

Covid wasn't and isn't a laughing matter. But I think we can re-acquaint and challenge the pandemic’s lingering power over us by getting playful with the absurdity and isolation of the past year. Here are some ideas:

Mask fashion show. Who has the most bedazzled or unusual mask? Roll out a runway and let your people strut, showing off their face coverings.

Whose eyes? In person we’ve mostly just seen a 1/3 of one another’s faces for the past 16 months. Ask people to submit close-up photos of the top third of their faces (remove hair and other identifying features from the pictures as much as possible) and find out who can identify the greatest number of fellow church members.

Virtual background matching game. Request individuals to take a photo of what’s been behind them for Zoom calls during the pandemic. Print two copies of each photo and create a giant memory matching game.

What I did during lockdown. Think, “What I did during summer vacation,” but for Covid. You can encourage serious or light-hearted responses. Share in a storytelling session, or print a few responses in each upcoming church newsletter.

Drawing or Play-Doh symbols. Have each person sketch or shape a symbol about what the past year-plus has been like. Have them explain it, or have others guess what the symbols represent.

Old school get-to-know you icebreakers (or as they’re called in some spaces, “energizers”). You have likely been at a church or work event that kicked off with games to help those present meet one another. Use one or more standard icebreakers to deepen knowledge of one another.

Having fun together makes it possible for us to tackle the tough stuff we’ve dealt - and will deal - with. Next week I’ll share some thoughts on how to get into that.

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash.

When I was in elementary school, I wanted to be an astronaut. That was not an uncommon goal in those days. The space shuttle program was relatively new, and the teacher-in-space program – as disastrously as it ended – made space travel seem more attainable. I’m still not so sure what was so enchanting about this dream. Maybe my budding introversion loved the idea of so much, well, space. Maybe it was the enchanting solar system photography that captured my imagination. Maybe I just didn’t know what all my career options were. Maybe I watched the movie Space Camp too many times. (The answer is probably all of the above.)

My parents encouraged me in this low-likelihood endeavor. They took me to the Marshall and Kennedy Space Flight Centers. They helped me write letters to request the scientist equivalent of head shots. They signed me up for Space Camp (which, by the way, was fun but nothing like the movie). My space fixation went strong for several years until I realized I didn’t enjoy science and math nearly as much as English. When I hit junior high, most of my astronaut posters and training manuals (yep, I’m a nerd) were put into drawers as artifacts of nostalgia.

I still love space, though. One of my favorite places continues to be the Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama. My husband, who went to Space Camp the same summer I did, gets giddy about it too, and now our son looks forward to going. On our most recent visit there was a new (to me) experiment about the context of the space race. As a child, the history of space travel was interesting, but it was just a timeline of progress. But the space program was never just about exploration. It was set against the backdrop of wars (hot and cold) and a struggle for the identity of the country, and the choices, the pressure, the setbacks and achievements cannot be fully appreciated without putting them in this larger context. Suddenly the stakes were clearer to me, as was the tenacity of those engineers who made the improbable happen with very little tech.

So it is with our congregations. The ebb and flow of membership, the beginnings and endings of ministries, patterns of pastor tenures, and even the architecture of church campuses must be set against the backdrop of all that was happening locally, nationally, and globally in particular eras. Then we are able to look for God’s presence through it all, identify values and legacy, and discern future direction.

When looking ahead, don’t forget to direct your gaze backward first, noticing cultural and political trends in the process. Only then, with a full grasp of context, will you be able to get clear on the character and gifts that will launch your church into a future in which the sky proves no limit.

It is important for your minister to thrive. Matt Bloom, a professor at Notre Dame, is well-known for his research on what contributes to thriving in various vocations. Here are some of the factors he names as crucial for clergy:

• physical health

• everyday happiness

• the opportunity to be authentic

• good boundaries

• a sense of meaning (and purpose within that bigger picture of meaning)

• relationships with others

• the ability to self-reflect

You can read more about Bloom’s work here.

But why is it so important that clergy thrive? Well, as it turns out, there is a link between flourishing ministers and flourishing congregations. One party’s health contributes to the other’s. (The same is true of languishing.) Wouldn’t you prefer to be part of a church that has some of the characteristics of thriving mentioned above rather than one that pretends to be something it is not, is constantly conflict-ridden, has no self-awareness, and doesn’t connect to a larger sense of purpose? I know I would.

Ok. But why, then, is it important that congregations thrive? This is often where the reflection stops. We don’t need clergy and churches that flourish simply for flourishing’s sake. We need to be able to contribute to one another’s thriving so that together we can then answer God’s call to contribute to a more loving, just, and generous world. Our congregations are situated within local and global contexts that are hungry for love, justice, and generosity. And these contexts are part of God’s good creation and our spheres of influence, just like our little patches of physical plant are, so our partnering with and participation in them is a condition of faithful stewardship.

But back to the minister. What can congregations do to help that clergyperson thrive, so that the minister then offers quality pastoral leadership and a good model to the congregation, so that in turn the church’s flourishing takes it into the world to do great things alongside God? This is an important question for congregations to consider as they search and negotiate with pastoral candidates. Ministers want to thrive, but they often jump into new calls with both feet without first thinking through what they need to flourish. They are so quickly consumed that it is then difficult to back up and set good practices. Search teams can help incoming pastors not only by giving them permission to set up the conditions for thriving but also by covenanting with their clergy at the start around maintaining those practices.

Here are some questions search teams can ask their ministerial candidates to form the basis for this covenant:

• What do you imagine thriving might look like for you in this context?

• What practices would you like to put in place to make this flourishing possible?

• What time do you need to carve out to implement these practices?

• What spaces will it be important for you to inhabit?

• What support do you need from the congregation to follow through on your plan?

• How might you share with the church about the impact of your practices?

Putting the conditions for clergy thriving into place at the outset will reaffirm for that minister that your church is a great fit and is invested in mutual care. You’ll have laid the groundwork for a long, fruitful ministry together.

In many congregations there is a generation or two that pines for a bygone era, one in which Sunday School rooms were bursting at the seams and regular worship attendance meant coming to church every week. There is a movement in Christianity that pushes back on this nostalgia. It says that things were not as good as we remember. That the Church’s success then sowed the seeds for its current struggles now. That marginalization of religion allows us to be more prophetic. (After all, the church in Acts operated from the fringes.) That faith requires us to be nimble and to meet people where they are, not enshrine ways of doing ministry and make others come to us.

I agree with all of these arguments. That said, I don’t know that they address what I suspect is the real issue underlying nostalgia: in the mid-20th century, the church morphed from a community into a system. Communities are built on connection, on investing in our neighbors and our neighborhood, on drawing on one another’s gifts to make life work. Systems, by contrast, breed disconnection. They focus on areas of (sometimes manufactured) discontent and then propose solutions to that unhappiness – a product or service that we must purchase. The signs of this shift in the church include:

Congregation-shopping. If my needs aren’t fully met at one church, I’ll keep looking until I find the “perfect” (for now) church instead of pitching in to make my current faith home look more like my vision.

Outsized staffs. If laypeople aren’t covering all the responsibilities, we’ll pay more people to take on those tasks.

Siloed ministries. Noisy, questioning children and youth are shuffled off into their own classes and worship services, rarely to be heard or seen.

Inclination to hire experts to come in and tell us what to fix.  Someone else must know better than we do what changes we can make to become vibrant again.

Now, we don’t need to recreate the 1950s for a number of reasons. But looking for ways to move church culture from a systems focus back to a community mindset is a worthy endeavor. Some ways to do this include encouraging more interaction between church members and the community, not in a “we’re here to help you” kind of way but in mutually-beneficial relationship-building way. Looking for more opportunities to foster understanding, connection, and investment among generations within the church. And making a deep and wide exploration of the congregation’s collected gifts and considering what God might be inviting us to consider through this assessment.

The point of these efforts will not be to get more bodies in the pews or more dollars in the bank. After all, God told us to go forth to make disciples, not bring them in so that we can pad our attendance rosters and our budgets. But if we can transform a congregational system into authentic community, people eager to know and be known by others will undoubtedly be much more eager to join us.