[Warning: There are mild spoilers below for the Disney+ series Loki.]

Loki is the latest live-action offering in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. It follows the Asgardian god of mischief as he seeks to unmask and take down the Time Variance Authority, which protects the sacred timeline from simultaneously-occurring branches populated by chaos-creating alter egos. It’s a fun series, particularly if you have found yourself sucked into the MCU as I (unexpectedly) have. As I watched, I wondered if there was a way to play with the multiverse concept in church planning.

Many churches have some sort of “sacred timeline” in mind: grow, then grow some more, mainly in terms of attendance, budget, and physical plant footprint. We can be quick to prune initiatives and quell voices that point to futures that don’t seem to fit this linear path. But what if we took time to imagine these alternate scenarios? How might our imagination feed our discernment of the future God is inviting us to consider? Here are a few toys for your sandbox:

What is the nexus event? In Loki nexus events cause the branches in the sacred timeline. For your purposes, such nodes might be major decisions on the horizon or situations that you didn’t foresee (such as a conflict or the departure of a pastor) but that affect the future. Whether intentional or forced, these events fundamentally change the path forward.

Who might our variants be? In his travels between different branches, Loki meets many different versions of himself: a woman, a child, a much older and campier iteration, and even a crocodile. How might you show up differently - individually or collectively - depending on how the timeline branches? You can be as serious or as fun-loving as you want with this.

How might the timeline play out? Using the nexus event and the natures of the variants involved, wonder what might happen. Remember that there can be branches off of branches!

Which branches might you still prune if you can? As you work with the three questions above, you’ll find that not every scenario is a fit for your church’s God-given purpose and gifts. Those are the branches you’ll want to prune.

There are limits to this exercise, of course. You cannot fully predict or control the outcomes of the branches you explore. But simply removing constraints to imagination imbues any planning process with the curiosity and openness that discernment requires. Then, once you’ve played a bit, you can bring data and details into your conversations to refine your options and turn the one that seems to be rising to the top over to God.

Photo by Yuriy Vinnicov 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.

As a child, some of my favorite Friday nights consisted of eating a chili dog and playing video games at the Double Dip Depot (RIP, dear Chattanooga institution). On my family’s semi-regular trips to Gatlinburg in the 1980s and 1990s, the arcade was always one of the highlights.

So I am not complaining that retro arcades seem to be popping up everywhere. Recently I took my 6-year-old, who has not yet been so exposed to modern gaming as to be unimpressed by 30-year-old technology. As we enjoyed our ALL-YOU-CAN-PLAY PASS (!), it occurred to me that these machines might have some wisdom to offer those of us in the vocation of ministry.

Asteroids. Just like those church programs that are no longer effective but you still feel obligated to offer, you only play this game for the nostalgia factor. (I mean, come on, it’s barely a step up from Pong.) Memories are central to who we are collectively and individually, but we don’t need to spend too much time living in them. And yes, I recognize the irony of hating on nostalgia while celebrating the return of retro arcades.

Centipede. Getting a high score on this game means being able to focus on the movements of the centipede while keeping an eye on – but not being too distracted by – the spiders falling on you. Similar to how you have to keep the big picture in front-of-mind even as you plan the details for individual ministries.

Cruis’n USA. Counterintuitively, you don’t finish the race in first by flooring the gas pedal the whole game. You’ve got to ease off in the curves, or else you’ll spin out. Churches often don’t take enough time to breathe and reflect, they just speed ahead and run out of time and energy. Same goes for clergy.

Pinball. There’s a lot of waiting and watching in pinball. The player has to be ready to hit the flipper buttons when the ball heads down the play field, but dynamics largely beyond the player’s control bounce the ball around in the meantime. Beating on the button when the game is out of your hands just wears you out and makes you frustrated. Churches do this a lot by measuring and fretting over numbers they can’t do much about instead of looking for the right opportunity to make an impact.

Ms. Pac-Man. You’ve got to have a plan when you play Ms. Pac Man, or you’ll get yourself eaten in a hurry. Congregations without a sense of direction will devour their volunteers and resources, with nothing much to show for it.

What retro game is your church’s culture most like?

Are you new in your call? Have you been sitting at your desk for so long that your Fitbit is angry at you? Do you need a challenge that is unrelated to figuring out how to be prophetic yet still heard from the pulpit? Are you emotionally done for the day, but for whatever reason you can’t yet head home?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, I have an activity for you. Below is a scavenger hunt for items around your church. (Feel free to adapt the dates and items for newer or non-traditional churches.) You can use it simply for a change of pace, or you can treat it as an anthropological exercise, asking yourself what you learn about your congregation as you cross off each find.

• Pre-2000 photo directory

• Past VBS group art project (e.g., banner, mosaic)

• Spot where there needs to be signage but there is none

• New-to-you fact about the church’s history

• Unlikely memorial gift

• Picture of a current lay leader as a child or teen

• Vantage point in the sanctuary that helps you understand the worship experience in a new way

• Book in your office or the church library written before 1955

• Space that is underutilized or can be reimagined

• Camp or mission trip t-shirt that is at least 5 years old

• Symbol that encapsulates the spirit of the congregation

• Book or curriculum piece you haven’t looked at for at least 6 months that inspires a new idea

• Physical change you have made at the church

• Reminder of a previous pastor

• Something that can’t be moved or changed without a lot of hand-wringing

• Location that delights your senses

• Retired parament

• Sign of hope or new life

Go forth and scavenge, and I’d love to hear the most unusual – or revelatory – treasure you find.

For some of us, Thanksgiving is a time for gathering with family, eating more than we should, and falling asleep in a recliner in front of a football game. For some of us, Thanksgiving is a time of stress, knowing we’ll be sharing space with people we love but with whom we disagree passionately. For some of us, Thanksgiving is a lonely time, spent apart from dear ones. For some of us, Thanksgiving is a work day, full of meeting others’ needs.

Whatever your Thanksgiving looks like, I invite you to read through the list below and join me in a challenge that expresses gratitude for all that we are and all that we have through self-care, connection, service, and resistance.

• Take a nap.

• Read an article, watch a video, or listen to a podcast from a Native American point of view.

• Tell someone three specific reasons you are grateful for him/her/them.

• Challenge a fear-mongering or prejudiced statement.

• Fully embrace your pledge not to listen to Christmas music before Advent – or play your list of favorite holiday tunes on an endless, joy-inducing loop. (I’ll be doing the latter.)

• Eat something delicious.

• Engage in an act of community service or make a donation to a service organization.

• Jump in a leaf pile.

• Stay out of the shopping fray on Thanksgiving Day.

• Have a conversation with someone who knows and loves the whole of you – and about whom you feel the same.

• Help with the cooking, the dishes, or the trash.

• Move your body, whether by participating in a Turkey Trot or simply by walking around the block.

• Thank God for your life, your call, and your people.

Most self-care is pretty fun. (I don’t know about you, but saddling up in the stirrups at the OBGYN’s office and trying to answer the dental hygienist’s questions while she stabs my gums aren’t really my idea of thrill rides.) Talking about self-care isn’t always that pleasant, though, because we can begin to realize how much we’ve been neglecting our health or our relationships and we often start stressing about what our church members will say if we leave the office at 3:00 on the Thursday of a 55-hour work week. That kind of thinking can sap some of the excitement over a night out with friends. (Kind of defeats the purpose of self-care, eh?)

I want to make reflecting about our self-care practices enjoyable! To that end I give you self-care bingo. Ten different PDF bingo cards are available for download here. Use them however you like, but here are a few suggestions:

• Play a traditional game of bingo at a clergy gathering. Cut up one of the grids into 25 cards, shuffle the cards, and have a caller shout out one self-care action at a time. Offer a prize to the first person to get a BINGO.

• Use the bingo cards for a get-to-know-you activity. If you’re at a gathering of ministers who don’t know each other well, give each person a bingo card and a pen. Ask people to mingle and find someone who has completed one of the self-care actions in the last week. Have the person initial that square and tell a brief story related to the self-care action.

• Create an ongoing self-care challenge. Distribute the bingo cards among your peers, then go about your week. See who can get a bingo first by completing five adjacent self-care actions.

Comment to let me know how you used this resource…er, game!

'Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the congregation
this minister was rushing to fulfill her vocation.
The greenery was rung 'round the sanctuary with care, 
in hopes that regulars and visitors soon would be there.

The figures were placed just so in the nativity,
waiting to add Jesus with Mary's natal activities.
The choir director in a tizzy, and I having sermon writer's block, 
were praying our health would hold out
'till we'd sung "Silent Night" with our flock.

When from the copy room there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the Xerox I flew like a flash,
dismantled the paper tray and pulled out the trash.

The machine had eaten all the Christmas Eve bulletins
and left me with confetti to distribute to everyone.
Little did I know that this was only the first mess
that would cause me no end of holiday stress:

The glow sticks I had purchased to hand out to kids
had been backordered because so many churches put in bids.
My nursery workers were bailing, wanting to be in the pews,
meaning parents would have to juggle their hymnals and babies
until the service was through.

Grieving members needed extra care as they recalled Christmas memories,
and suddenly I was unsure where to focus my flagging energy.
A water main broke and half our parking lot was a geyser,
and I wondered if I could just hide under my bed covers, no one the wiser.

Strong Mary! Doting Joseph! Smelly shepherds and sheep!
Sweet-singing angels
and gift-bearing wise men coming to watch the baby sleep!
To Bethlehem proper, to that small, crowded stall,
now come quickly!
Come quickly! Come quickly, all!

Time speeded up as the 24th drew nearer, 
and when was I supposed to shop for my family? That was no clearer. 
So to Amazon I went several nights, grateful for Prime, 
and shopped till my clock warned me it was nearly daytime. 

And then Christmas Eve came. It was showtime. 
I said a prayer that the worshippers would experience something sublime. 
As I climbed into the pulpit, white stole  'round my neck, 
I glanced toward the AV booth and gave a nod to the tech. 

Suddenly, I saw the faces. People smiling, expecting a Savior, 
glad to be snuggled together, on their best behavior. 
They were dressed in red and green, a few even in bells. 
They looked toward the creche, where God in flesh now dwelled. 

The music - how it filled me! The harmonization, how inspiring! 
The readings reminded me that I should be among those admiring. 
Communion brought us together with both future and past,  
Silence drew me into God's promise to be with us to the last. 

I then remembered that whatever did or didn't go right, 
the darkness would be pierced by Christ's growing light. 
Illumined by candles, the sanctuary filled with hope, 
and my heart beating gratefully, I scurried back up from the end of my rope.
 
God's love had been born anew, not just for me, but for all: 
good guys and bad guys, the worried and ill; 
the lonely, the wanting, the broken, and the raging, 
the hopeless, the imprisoned, the young, and the aging.

We all filed out when worship was done, 
Some to full, busy houses and some to a table of one. 
I headed home to pour a big glass of wine 
and to collapse on the couch, a hard-earned rest finally mine.

But as I drifted off to sleep, too tired even to remove my shoes, 
I gave thanks not only for the holiday's good news, 
but also for the privilege of witnessing to God's world being made aright. 
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. 

I once had to sit in my office, waiting for the members of my congregation’s personnel committee to invite me into what was sure to be a difficult discussion. A misunderstanding with the wrong person had quickly spiraled out of control, and I was finally going to have the opportunity to engage in a solution-focused conversation. I was excited and anxious and angry and terrified, and I couldn’t go into the room with all those emotions roiling just below the surface. So I made a playlist on my phone, which included “Freebird,” “I Will Survive,” the title song from the musical Rent, and other high-energy, tail-kicking songs. I sang them LOUDLY. I punched the air. The music gave me an emotional workout, after which the endorphins were pumping and my feelings were more defined.

As the mother of a preschooler, these days my playlist is mostly comprised of Daniel Tiger songs. But I have found Daniel’s short, simple ditties very helpful at times: “When you’re feeling frustrated, take a step back and ask for help.” “It’s ok to feel sad sometimes. Little by little, you’ll feel better again.” “When you feel so mad that you want to roar, take a step back and count to four.”

Music can be a powerful motivator, a calming agent, and an empathetic expression of our grief, not to mention a community facilitator and even a force for social change. What needs to be on your playlist when you’re headed into a dreaded meeting, when you’re having trouble focusing, when your heart is weighed down with sadness? How can music help you feel connected and prepared and alive?