Artificial intelligence is here, and someday the robots might come for us just as Sam Waterston warned. In the meantime, we need to figure out what AI can do and shouldn’t do for us.

This is true in the church world as well, so on a lark, I randomly chose an AI generator from a web search. This particular site produces mission and vision statements for a range of industries. All I had to type in was “church,” then choose a tone (inspirational), then select “generate.” Here’s what came back:

Vision:
To create a welcoming and inclusive community where individuals can find hope, inspiration, and spiritual growth, empowering them to make a positive impact in the world.

Mission:
Our mission is to spread love, compassion, and faith by providing a place of worship, guidance, and support for all individuals seeking spiritual fulfillment. Through inspirational teachings, uplifting music, and meaningful connections, we aim to inspire and empower our congregation to live a life of purpose, kindness, and service to others. Together, we strive to create a world filled with love, peace, and harmony, guided by the teachings of Jesus Christ.

It’s truth-telling time. How different do these statements sound from your church’s mission and vision statements? Probably not much. Most guiding statements tend to be aspirational and vague. And that’s why I’m becoming more convinced that they are not the most helpful touchstones for congregations. Leaders expend vast amounts of energy and time (and sometimes big money on a consultant) coming up with a vision and mission…and then the robots instantly manufacture something almost as good. This is one way AI is useful: it’s telling us we’re not putting our resources into efforts with the biggest impact.

Here’s what I’d like to see churches work toward instead:

A helpful story of our congregation. A church can have many narratives about how it arrived at the present moment, and they all might ring true to varying degrees. Not all of them will be useful in terms of seeing the congregation as part of Christ’s body and God’s ongoing work in the world, though. Often we need to be more thoughtful about how we understand and share about our church.

Core values. These can be lived or aspirational, as long as there is clarity about which is which. Brene Brown’s values exercise is a useful one for both individuals and organizations. Naming a church’s story can also illuminate what it is about. What are our non-negotiable commitments that without them, we wouldn’t be us? What ways of being are we trying to incarnate with God’s help?

Seasonal plans based on these values. Covid obliterated what little confidence I had left in 5-10 year strategic planning. Churches need to be more nimble and responsive. (Exceptions include such initiatives as capital campaigns. These too, though, must be deeply rooted in values.) What is God inviting our congregation’s focus to be for the next 6-18 months?

Another kind of AI: appreciative inquiry. Congregations and their surrounding communities are full of individual and collective blessings from God, some tapped and others untapped, that could be put to very positive use in the name of living out values and focus. These gifts change as people come and go and as circumstances change, so they need to be inventoried on an ongoing basis.

Means to assess whether the congregation is being faithful to its core values. This is everything from whole-ministry assessments to individual event debriefs to mutual ministry reviews with staff. How are we stewarding our gifts well in service to the nudges from God we’ve discerned? What adjustments do we need to make?

A congregational covenant. We are people of relationship, because our Trinitarian God embodies connection and also seeks kinship with us. How we interact with one another needs to reflect this, but as mere mortals we benefit from reminders of what healthy bonds look like. We can name and agree to intentional behaviors and attitudes, then establish regular opportunities to recommit to them.

All of these tools are more practical and customized than mission and vision statements, and we shouldn’t trust them to artificial intelligence. Consider how you might stock your congregation’s toolkit with them.

Photo by Mohamed Nohassi 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.

One of the most helpful classes I took early in my coach training was about change, transition, and transformation. (The class content built on the work of William Bridges, who was an expert in these areas.) Often we lump the three terms together, but they are actually quite different:

• Change is a shift in our circumstances. It is external. We can choose it, or it can be forced upon us.

• Transition is a response to change. It is learning to see things differently as a result of our shift in circumstances. Our insides work to catch up to what is going on outside of us.

• Transformation is a wholly new way of not just seeing things differently but being in the world differently. We are fundamentally altered because we have so fully embraced change.

We do not go directly from change to transformation. There is that transition time in the middle in which what was is now in the rearview, but what is yet to come and whom we are yet to be are still in the future. Think of this neutral zone as a bridge between two realities. One of the functions of bridges is to carry us over water or roads. Not having solid ground underneath feels very precarious for a lot of people, including me. Yet there we are, left having to move forward, not just stay parked in the middle of that bridge - even if we can’t fully see what’s on the other side.

In our lives we have all found ourselves on the bridge at one time or another, prompted by a move, a job change, a birth or death close to us, or an injury that has altered how we move about the world. In 2020 people all across Earth found ourselves in a neutral zone. There was a sudden call to go from all that was familiar into lockdown. If we got out of our house, we needed to mask and physically distance. If we brought anything from the outside into our home, we were told, at least at first, to wipe it down for pathogens. Schools ended the year abruptly. Churches moved community online. Nothing felt familiar anymore. We couldn’t hug our people. We couldn’t go to the places we wanted. We couldn’t observe milestones in the ways we were used to. And how long would we be in this profound disorientation? The epidemiologists were saying from the start of Covid’s spread that – optimistically – we were in a 2-3 year event, though many of us, including me, could not hear that for a long time. We just reacted to a drastic shift in circumstances. But when weeks turned into months, we adjusted our way of thinking: ok, we are now in a global pandemic. There is no quick fix. We will do what we must in order to get through this, one day at a time. Our seeing realigned with our doing. To some extent we are still in the latter part of the Covid neutral zone. The virus is very much still with us, and we don’t yet know what a world where we are fundamentally changed by our pandemic experience will look like. Thankfully, we have a lot more knowledge and tools now to blunt its effects.

As a result of Covid and so many other changes in the world, many of us individually and collectively are in our own neutral zones. Maybe we’re doing things differently because we have to. Maybe we’re even seeing things in new ways because of our shifted circumstances. We’re still on that bridge, though. So what do we need to get to the other side?

• Celebrate what was without getting stuck in it. What is the legacy that you are taking with you into the neutral zone that can help you navigate it well? What are the values to which you will stay true, no matter what the future looks like?

• Cultivate your noticing that that God is working in, among, and through you. Sometimes it’s hard to see, but we never leave­ God’s compassionate presence and the hope of communal salvation that Jesus offers.

• Assess the tools at hand. Every person, every group, every congregation has a wealth of gifts that put you in position to cross the bridge. Maybe they need to be redistributed, but you have – and are – enough.

• Ask lots of questions. ­­What if…? I wonder what…? When we stay in that stance of thoughtful and playful curiosity, or even faithful doubt, creativity and possibility are available to us.

• Trust in and mutually support one another. The neutral zone is not the place to get stranded or to strand others. This is a bridge best navigated together.

The good news is that we don’t have to transform ourselves. We just have to open our hearts and our minds to God’s invitations, being confident that when we do, God will work in us in ways that don’t just fundamentally alter us but also the world around us.

 Photo by Modestas Urbonas on Unsplash.

I am currently working with a congregation that is just beyond the redevelopment stage. The leaders are building and revamping organizational pieces that will allow the church to move from all of the responsibility falling to the pastor and to SuperVolunteers toward a more equitable and sustainable distribution of efforts. Because it can be hard to zoom out when you’re in the thick of the details, I created the graphic above to help the leaders see the importance of each aspect of the systemic work they’re doing:

• This congregation identified its values and vision as part of a discernment process a couple of years ago. Being clear about commitments and direction provides a strong foundation for all a congregation does and a touchstone for focusing efforts.

• Core documents such as by-laws make the values and vision functional: here is how we go about our church life because we have named these commitments toward this hope for our future.

• The by-laws set the leadership structure that carries out the various processes and procedures laid out in the by-laws.

• The leadership structure decides how to make faithful use of the many tangible and intangible gifts to which the congregation has access.

• The leadership’s use of gifts supports the day-to-day operations of the church.

• Smooth operations make it possible for the congregation to live into God’s invitations to ministry.

So, then, we can be much more effective if we’re clear about what our biggest commitments are and stay grounded in them at all times. By-laws are not just an irrelevant document that we maintain for legal reasons. Leadership must assess regularly and most effectively deploy its resources, which are much more than money and facilities. Ministry and operations are designed to support and speak to, not compete with, each other.

What questions or thoughts does this graphic prompt for you? How are the various levels in this image in conversation with one another in your context? Where is more communication needed? And how do you start that ball rolling?

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.

October has been designated - by whom, I’m not sure - as Pastor Appreciation Month. I am in favor of showing gratitude to clergy all year round. But since greeting card companies give us the reminder in this particular month, let’s use it to raise our awareness of all that our ministers (in congregational settings and beyond) do on our behalf and thank them for their hard, holy work. Here are some thoughts on how to do this:

• Ask your pastor what a “typical” work week looks like, listen deeply to the response, and affirm their use of their time. Ministry is often behind-the-scenes work, made even more invisible by the pandemic. Many clergy would be heartened that a church member took a real interest in the rhythms of ministry simply for the purpose of seeing and valuing that leader’s efforts.

• Inquire how you can be praying for your pastor. Yes, so much of ministry is more difficult right now. But many other things are hard for clergy too, like health concerns and worries about family. What a gift it would be to pray for your leader like she prays for you!

• Give your pastor additional paid time off. I cannot stress enough that clergy are tired, even the ones that have thrived creatively during Covid. Honor their need for rest.

• Set aside funds for your pastor to seek professional support. Spiritual directors, coaches, and other conversation partners can help clergy nurture their souls and/or strategize how to lead in life-giving, authentic ways.

• Send a note to your pastor, and encourage others to do the same. What has your pastor done that has been especially meaningful to you? How has church sustained you spiritually during the pandemic? Be specific. It would thrill your minister to know these things. (Note that kids can easily participate in this one. Pastors love to get drawings and letters from children!)

• Gather up gift cards. There are lots of options here: grocery store, restaurant, airline, hotel chain, pet store, and much more. Your choice could be geared toward meeting basic needs or helping your minister treat herself. Just make sure the gift cards fit the needs and preferences of your pastor.

More than anything, though, your pastor wants your engagement. This doesn’t necessarily mean coming to the church building, because not everyone feels safe doing that yet. It simply means communication from you to this effect: “Hey, we’re still here and paying attention! We consider this church to be our church even when we aren’t physically around. We are actively looking for ways to participate that meet a risk level comfortable to us. We continue to support all that is happening with our prayers and our giving.” For many clergy, those kinds of messages (as many people seem to be disappearing into the ether) would be the greatest form of appreciation.

Photo by Courtney Hedger on Unsplash.

Last week I shared one of the biggest challenges that the Church faces in this season. Today I’m sharing one of the other hurdles I’ve noticed in coaching calls and informal conversations with pastors and lay leaders: the Church’s tendency to operate out of scarcity rather than abundance. This scarcity mindset takes many different forms. The pressure to grow (usually defined numerically), whether from within the congregation or from the judicatory or denomination, arises from comparison with the church down the road and anxiety about survival. This causes congregation members to become mired in nostalgia for an earlier era when Sunday School classrooms were bursting at the seams with children or to pitch ideas for programming that are ill-suited to the congregation’s demographics, person-power, or theological commitments. Ironically, this worry about not being or having enough creates insularity and suffocates the imagination and willingness to experiment that could potentially result in growth in terms of spiritual formation and impact in the larger community if not nickels and noses. Instead, congregations hold tight to ministries that need to be celebrated and ended well so that something that better fits who the church is now can bubble up. 

This scarcity mentality takes its toll on members, who become discouraged or exhausted from being tasked with more responsibilities as the overall membership ages and decreases. It is particularly hard on leaders, both laity and clergy, who carry the weight of the church on their shoulders. Certainly pastors too often become the hired hands who absorb all the tasks that others don’t want to do or don’t feel capable of doing instead of being set free to be spiritual guides and partners in ministry. When their to-do lists are an endless scroll, these clergy feel guilty about self-care and time away, and they spiral toward burnout. 

I believe we need an orientation re-set. We need to train ourselves to look for individual and collective gifts, defined very broadly. What talents are represented in our congregation? What relationships with the community do we have? What are people in the church knowledgeable or passionate about? What tangible assets do we possess? What infrastructure do we have in place for efficient use of all our blessings? What compelling stories do we tell about our experiences of faith? When we have a bigger sense of all that God has blessed us with, we can begin to dream of new possibilities. And when we dream, we can conduct holy experiments, calling our efforts just that. We can more intentionally build in times to reflect on what we’ve learned about ourselves, our neighbors, and God and whether we want to continue this trial with some tweaks or pursue another holy experiment. The learned helplessness begins to dissipate. We reconnect our programming with outreach and spiritual formation. We discover our potential and find our niche in our contexts. We help bring about the peace of God’s reign. (This e-book can help you assess, discern, and plan for experimentation.)

I believe we can solve the problems of not knowing and talking honestly with one another as I detailed last week and of being stuck in scarcity thinking. I think making progress on one of these issues can move us forward in the other. And I know that sometimes it takes someone outside of the system to help with either or both challenges. That is why I love the work that I do. If I can facilitate conversation that will help your congregation overcome these hurdles, please contact me.   

Photo by Felicia Buitenwerf on Unsplash.