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.

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.

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 P-T. (See A-E here, F-J here, and K-O here.)

Practices. Doing is more powerful than telling. Educators know this. It’s why they get their students to put new knowledge to work, so that it will become part of them, so that they’ll have access to it when they need it most. What are the practices in your congregation - both in and beyond worship - and how are they shaping people? Where do your church folks sense permission to try different ways of putting faith into action? What rituals do you need but not yet have to support emerging disciples? Our practices as a congregation either deepen our expressed values and beliefs or undermine them.

Questions. I have - and have always had - a lot of questions. As a teenager I refused to walk the aisle and request baptism until I found a church that would welcome my wonderings. I know I’m not alone. After all, we live in a world of mass violence, a crumbling ecosystem, and structural inequities, all of which deny various expressions of the image of God in the good world that God made. Church is the very best place to ask big questions and think on them together about how to live in spite of (informed by?) all we don’t understand. God can hold our questions, and yes, our doubts.

Responsiveness. Speaking of the world’s ills, the Church can be neither silent about them nor inactive in partnering with God on solutions to them. It’s not the job of an individual congregation to put a lot of energy toward solving them all. That’s a recipe for burnout. But it is the job of each church to pick one or two areas in which their faith enacted could make a dent in those problems. Congregations cannot be self-contained entities in which folks come for Sunday morning reassurance, then leave feeling unbothered or powerless to impact their wider communities.

Storytelling. We are people of story. Our story starts with God turning on the world’s lights and giving us life. It continues across generations and centuries, and still it goes on. The Church needs to tell that story, weird and disturbing parts and all. (Those weird parts are a big part of what draws me in to hear the rest of the story!) And, the Church also needs to do a couple of other things: listen deeply to people’s beautifully diverse narratives and help them connect their stories to God’s sweeping epic.

Truthtelling. Related to questions, responsiveness, and storytelling, we as the Church need to speak the truth in love. We don’t have all the answers. There’s a lot of work to do for God’s will to be done on Earth as it is in heaven. Life can be hard and wonderful, sometimes at the same time. Let’s lead with that and invite people to join us as we sit with all of the messiness and figure out how to move forward together, with the inspiration and courage of the Holy Spirit.

Next week: letters U-Z.

Photo by Robert Stump 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 K-O. (See A-E here and F-J here.)

Kin. In church we often talk about being a family. That characterization can be rooted in an idealized version of family in which we love one another unconditionally. It can also be a bit insular, though. Have you ever joined a family, such as through marriage, and wondered if your presence was really wanted? There are insider jokes and stories and traditions that feel strange and come with little explanation, often because the family you’ve come into doesn’t realize how unique those cultural pieces are. “Kin,” though, has a different connotation for me. The term kin is sprawling. It’s not just those we interact with every day or even just on Sundays and holidays. It is all the people we are connected with - which, ultimately, is all the people on Earth. It implies some responsibility to one another. If we are kin, we bring people in. We help each other out. There are so many ways congregations can emphasize this message.

Listening. The Church that is increasingly irrelevant is focused on telling people exactly what God says and what everyone should do. The life of faith is not that simple. We come to belief through a myriad of backgrounds and experiences, and we interpret scripture based on them. What I think is more important to faith formation than telling, then, is listening. How do we teach people to hear the voice of God? How can we show the love of God to others through offering the gifts of our time and attention? What might we help people hear about the presence and work of God in their lives by witnessing their stories and reflecting on them together? What might we ourselves be changed through narratives different than our own?

Meaning-making. There is so much in the world that is hard and confusing. As Church we must be ready to help people make sense of it. We don’t necessarily have the answers, but we can provide a way of thinking about all that is happening and encourage those in our care to find their place, their agency, in it. We have some choices, and those options can be identified and refined through the lens of our faith.

Noticing. One of my favorite questions to start a group gathering is, “Where have you seen God at work lately?” I am always awed by the responses, which can be small notes of gratitude or retellings of big happenings in which God could just as well be shouting “HERE I AM” through a megaphone. Noticing is key to discernment, a faith-rooted way of making decisions. Church is a great place to cultivate that noticing. It shouldn’t just be for occurrences, though. It should also be for really looking for and seeing the image of God in God’s people - whomever, whenever, wherever. Just think how different the world would be if everyone noticed God and the work of God in all times and places!

Openness. This is a hospitality of the heart and mind. It is a willingness to consider new ideas and perspectives and try new things, and to know and be known by the people who introduce you to them. It is the ability to admit wrongdoing and make substantive changes. It is a doing better once you know better, as Maya Angelou said. Sometimes it is simply letting ourselves delight or giving ourselves permission not to know everything. (Doesn’t that sound like a relief?) How might our congregations help us nurture this hospitality, which is a big theme in scripture?

Next week: letters P-T.

Photo by Surendran MP 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 F-J. (See A-E here.)

Flexibility. The pandemic taught us that we can never anticipate everything, which is both scary and exhilarating. It also showed us that we have more ability to adapt than we believed possible. We need to stop trying to exert so much control and let the Holy Spirit do her thing! What might be possible if we let things be a little messy? How might God show up if we opened the floor to more voices and experiences and ideas? I’m eager to find out.

Genuineness. Psst. Here’s an open secret: one of the reasons fewer people are coming to church - or attending less often - is because they want to show up as themselves, without a facade, among other people who are also being real. Gone are the days when everybody puts on their best faces on Sunday mornings. What most are seeking is a way to connect their faith and their questions with their daily lives. Make your congregation a safe place to do that.

Hope. Optimism, which I define as an “everything’s gonna be all right” attitude, is hard to come by these days. Hope, though, is necessary for getting from one day to the next. It is available to us because of the promise of God’s presence and because hope is rooted in what we do in the face of uncertainty and pain. Faith communities can equip people for both aspects of hope, helping us look for where God is at work and equipping us respond to the world’s challenges.

Interdependence. One of the gifts and challenges of the pandemic is that everyone needed care. I think that humanized even the most self-sufficient and stoic of us (I’m talking to myself here as an Enneagram 5!) to others and even to our own selves. We are designed for interdependence. God doesn’t want us to try to make it on our own. The Church must continue to encourage vulnerability and mutual care, and not just among the people in the pews. So many who reside at or walk past the edge of our property both need our care and have so much to offer to us, if we will have ears to hear.

Joy. I am 100% convinced that the congregations that weathered Covid-19 the best put an emphasis on playing together, finding new ways to do that in a time of physical distancing. God created our world and called it good. God gave us one another so that we would know the joy of companionship. Jesus was a guy who knew how to have fun in between his more serious moments of teaching and healing. Church must be a place that people look forward to going to, not because they are entertained, but because they find something there that opens them to delight even as they acknowledge that life can be hard.

Next week: letters K-O.

Photo by Jason Dent 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 A-E.

Accessibility. This is about equity, which involves providing well thought-through accommodations to those with various needs (e.g., mobility, sensory) so that they can participate fully in congregational life. It is also about being very intentional in the welcome of newcomers, who might be joining onsite or online, who might not know a soul in your community, who might have not been in a church since the day they were deeply wounded by it, or who might not have any vocabulary or framework for what worship, formation, or congregational life look like.

Breath. In the attractional model of church that many of us still cling to (whether we admit it or not!), the emphasis is always on doing more. Offering more programs so that more people will come. Plugging newcomers into more activities so that they will feel more integrated. Not only has the attractional model proven itself not very helpful, especially for smaller churches, it also leaves a lot of people feeling run ragged. I think one of the pandemic’s big shocks to our systems was that most things stopped. We realized we had either forgotten how to breathe or realized we had even less time for it when work and caring responsibilities collapsed in on each other. We’re still recovering. One of the best things Church can do now is to resist the pull back to lots of programs and instead create space for thought, prayer, and rest - not just for now, but permanently.

Care. This is about checking in on the people in our faith communities, particularly those who are hurting or vulnerable or homebound. It is also about caring for the world beyond our church property. All around us there is great need. The Church is not meant to be set apart, tending only to its own. Being Christ’s body involves going where that need is and listening, giving tangible help, and working against the systems that put people at a disadvantage - through no fault of their own - to begin with.

Development. Learning and growing aren’t just for kids. So what are we doing in our congregations to form faithful followers of Jesus across every age cohort? This is not about implementing more programs. (See “breath” above.) It is about a way of being. What do our rituals say about what we believe about God? How do we discern when a big decision looms? How do we approach our work in committees and teams as worship? How do we encourage people to explore and tell their faith stories, looking for where God has been at work in the process?

Embodiment. We are people that worship a God who breathed life into our nostrils and called us good, and who came to us in human form when we needed more information and interaction than God could give us from on high. When Jesus headed back upstairs, entrusting us to his ongoing work, we became his hands and feet here on Earth. All of this is to say that God loves bodies, and so should we! We should honor our bodies’ - and others’ - requirements of rest, food, movement, and medical care. We should respect what our bodies - and others’ bodies - are telling us about who their inhabitants are on the inside. We should give thanks for the variety of bodies. We don’t have treat our bodies as regrettable meat sacks that temporarily store our brains and hearts. They are beautiful vehicles for getting out into God’s good world and sharing the love of Christ.

Next week: letters F-J.

Photo by Brett Jordan 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.

Recently I surveyed pastors about what their biggest challenges and greatest joys are in this season of ministry. This article on the CBF blog about the challenges and ways to address them is part one of a two-piece series based on those survey results.

Photo by Jukan Tateisi on Unsplash.

Some of my coachees have found the categories used in this article helpful for picking apart why everything feels so big and unwieldy right now. I hope that this piece also offers some useful suggestions on how to focus on fewer tasks right now until we can all rebuild some capacity and momentum. Click here to read on the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship blog.

Photo by Jené Stephaniuk on Unsplash.

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.

Coaching is not just for individuals! Did you know that I also coach church staffs, teams of lay leaders, and entire congregations? Anytime there is a gap between where you (as an individual or as a collective) are and where you want to be, there is fertile soil for coaching. A coach approach to meeting benchmarks and overcoming challenges can provide structure, tools, and encouragement to groups as they strategize in ways that make sense in their context and utilize their specific gifts. Coaching also builds ownership of new insights and plans among coachees, because it does not result in a solution handed down by an outside “expert.” In coaching the people doing the work in a particular space are understood as the true experts, and they are the ones who map the way forward.

And guess what? This time of year tends to be one of the best seasons for coaching. Summer vacations are tapering off, so it’s easier for groups seeking coaching to meet consistently. Fall programming is mostly settled. There’s some breathing room in the liturgical calendar before Advent, when the focus (rightfully) shifts to the journey to Bethlehem.

Coaching doesn’t have to break your church’s budget, either. Now that we are all very familiar with video conferencing, you only need to plan for an hourly coaching rate. No longer do you have to worry about travel and other expenses that can add up quickly.

If you sense that your congregation (or some segment of it) needs the kind of nudge that coaching could provide, here are some areas in which I specialize:

Congregational self-study during pastoral transitions. In the time between settled pastors, it’s important to do this good work to undergird the search for a great-fit minister. Who is our church apart from the personality and passions of our former leader?

Figuring out church after(ish) Covid-19. In pre-post-pandemic, many questions remain in order not just to do church but to be church. What is our role in the world after a big shift in people’s priorities and ways of life? How do we rebuild relationships and establish new ones both within our congregation and in the larger community based on what we’ve learned about ourselves and our neighbors over the past couple of years?

Setting new touchstones and metrics. The pandemic shook many markers loose. What is it that is consistently grounding for and true about our congregation? What are helpful benchmarks that let us know our impact in partnership with God?

Visioning and discerning next steps. We might only see half-steps forward right now, but we can figure out how to recognize them. How do we listen for invitations from God? How do we engage in a continuous cycle of experimentation, assessment, and learning in a way that brings excitement and delight instead of a sense of failure and shame?

Pastor searches. Teams of laypeople (appropriately) have a lot of questions about how to find someone for a role they themselves have never held. What do we need a pastor to do? Where do we look for people who can do these things? How do we invite candidates to consider our ministry opportunity out of a spirit of welcome and generosity?

I would love the chance to talk with you about any of these congregational coaching possibilities, as well as potential coaching topics that are not mentioned above. Please schedule a free exploratory call here. If you don’t see a time that works for you, contact me so that we can figure out a window that will.

Back in January I had the opportunity to interview several pastors for one of my Doctor of Ministry papers. The topic was technology shifts during the pandemic and the resulting impact on congregations and their leaders. One conversation in particular fascinated me. This interviewee’s church had long established play as one of its values. The pastor helped congregants draw on this value in new ways during Covid, thus allowing individual members to retain their connections with one another and helping the church as a whole weather the challenges of lockdown. In the latest edition of Fellowship Magazine, I write about the many ways that play makes congregations more connected and adaptable. Click here to read the article, which can be found on page 31.

Photo by Nik Korba on Unsplash.

When I was in college, my dad would mail me motivational photos cut out of business publications. You know the kind - a person standing on a mountain peak, with a quote underneath about giving it your all. The encouragement, the time spent finding and mailing the pictures, and the willingness to dissect his magazines were all expressions of my dad’s love. Hopefully we’ve all had someone in our lives who has pushed us to dream big, to work hard. There are times when we really need that kind of support.

This is not that time.

The more I talk with pastors and lay leaders, the more I think that this is a season to go small, to ease off the gas. Clergy are crispy-fried, even the ones who are not in the midst of vocational crisis. Laypeople are exhausted too, whether it is from stepping up even more at church during the pandemic, worrying about and caring for their kids or parents, or wondering what the future holds for their work lives or their retirement account balances. Even so, the capitalistic heartbeat that powers our culture intones, “Do more.” Thump thump. “Be more.” Thump thump. “Count numbers.” Thump thump. “Go back (to the way things were pre-Covid.)” Thump thump. This is an anxious response and an unrealistic approach to the profound ways in which our world and the Church are changing.

I want to suggest an opposite approach: going small. Yes, we need to do some things differently, because our burnout and our scarcity tunnel vision won’t magically resolve themselves. So look for a small tweak that might make a large impact. Spend one minute outside after you’ve finished your lunch, soaking in Vitamin D and deepening your breaths. Or end each day with a single reflection question, such as, “When did I experience joy today?” Or read one page of a book (for fun) that has been gathering dust on your nightstand.

Thinking small goes for congregations too. This is likely not the time for long-range planning. With energy so low, it might not even be the season for discerning or re-examining shared values. So name a hymn or a long-practiced ritual that says something about your congregation’s identity and use it as a touchstone for considering unexpected invitations from God. When starting new things (or even re-starting former initiatives), be clear about what the “yes” involves and what “no” is needed to counterbalance.

We all want to be faithful. We strive to minister to those in need. To do both for the long haul, we need to recalibrate for sustainability. Going small offers us a way to build momentum and muscle, growing our capacity and impact in the process.

In the meantime, instead of a motivational poster of someone reaching a mountain peak, imagine a kitty poster that encourages you to “hang in there.”

Photo by Igor Kyryliuk on Unsplash.

Hopefully we are now nearing the end of Covid-19 as a defining reality of our lives. The effects of the pandemic are likely to be long lasting, though. Finances (personal and institutional), politics (since Covid became such a wedge issue), and relationships (deepening or stretching, sometimes to the breaking point) are a few of the areas in which we will all continue to deal with fallout.

In my work I talk with a lot of clergy who are having a crisis of vocation either brought on or amplified by the pandemic. But I’m noticing that in general the repercussions vary according to when each pastor entered the system:

Those who were already contemplating retirement or a change in contexts. These pastors tried to hang on for a bit to get their congregations through the pandemic. When it became clear that the end of Covid was not imminent, many (understandably) decided to make their exits rather than persist under the stress of pastoring during a pandemic.

Those who were serving in their context for more than a year pre-Covid. These pastors got a full cycle of firsts under their belts before the pandemic arrived and put everything familiar in disarray. They had had some time to understand their contexts, build trust, and inhabit the role of leader. (They also had had enough exposure that they had begun to develop detractors, as happens in any pastorate.)

Those who had served less than a year but had at least led during a major liturgical season (e.g., Advent) pre-Covid. Going through major observances and signature events together often serves to bond pastor and people in mutual ministry. The relationships were still new and fragile, though.

Those who started their roles in January, February, or early March 2020. Many of these pastors are really struggling. They started a position and didn’t even get their feet underneath them before the floor dropped out. With varying degrees of success they have cobbled together their understanding of congregational culture and their ever-altering place in it.

Those who changed churches mid-pandemic. Some of these leaders are only just now getting to know their people in person after lots of time together online. They had to try to build relationships in less traditional ways, and sometimes they had to launch experiments and make decisions without all of the information that in-person community offers.

Those who are coming into new-to-them churches in this pre-post-Covid time. The Covid fog seems to be clearing, and now a new phase of the work begins. Pastors in new-to-them churches are, then, jumping into big questions without the benefit of the honeymoon period that many ministers enjoyed in The Before. How do we right-size our infrastructure? Are these people we haven’t seen in a long time gone for good? Do we keep up hybrid worship or switch back to fully in-person? What will the polarization of the last election and the partisanship around Covid mean for relationships among church members? What work around anti-racism is more possible and pressing now that we have physically re-gathered?

I make these distinctions to highlight that the pandemic has been challenging to all pastors (and all people!) and that there are nuances to the issues. I hope that lining out the obstacles to thriving for each group helps leaders locate themselves and begin to see why varying aspects of Covid have been harder or easier depending on each pastor’s level of rootedness in the context. Naming the barriers is the first step toward strategizing ways to minimize or maneuver around them.

A note to congregations: not every pastor is in vocational crisis. Some are even thriving. But all are attending to the challenges that the pandemic has presented to them as clergy and as humans. Please keep this in mind when your hopes for your church or your expectations for your minister’s leadership do not align with what is unfolding.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash.

Last week I offered some discussion prompts for congregations that are discerning whether to lean into true hybrid community that creates robust belonging for both online and offline participants. If responses to those questions point to an openness to hybrid church, the reflection cues below begin to get at planning the specifics.

Logistics

• Based on responses to these questions, what might our digital sandbox look like? What’s the container for the sandbox? How big is it? Who might want to play in it? What toys are in it for people to play with? (Sit with this metaphor a bit before moving into practical details below.)

• What platforms would we utilize? What criteria will guide this decision? Which ones are current constituents and those who aren’t yet engaged already using?

• What elements of hybrid church would be synchronous or asynchronous?

• Which elements of hybrid church would be open to anyone and which would be password protected? What community norms would we need to establish for each, consistent with what expectations are for in-person congregational interaction? What would the bar be for obtaining the password?

• What systems and leadership would we need in order to tend the online aspects and to facilitate mutual connection between online and offline participants?

• What training would leaders and participants in hybrid church need?

• How would we actively invite people for whom our hybrid church is good news?

• How could we create space for hybrid participants’ contributions and big questions, indeed for their full participation in creating a faith community characterized by belonging?

• What mechanisms for regular assessment and course-correction would we put into place?

Membership

• What are our formal and informal practices around and beliefs about church membership? In what ways do they serve us well, and in what ways do they not?

• How would the intentional cultivation of hybrid church necessarily affect what membership means and who can become a member? What changes do we need to make as a result?

Leadership

• What time and attention, and from whom, would hybrid church require?

• How could we make this leadership consistent and sustainable?

• What does this mean for our staffing configuration (and budget) and the roles of lay leaders?

Mutual responsibility

• What kind(s) of commitment are we asking for from online church participants in order to create the mutuality that belonging entails?

• How do we communicate the what and why of these expectations to online community constituents and get their assent?

• How do we engage online community participants in helping to craft mutual expectations?

• How do we make it as inviting as possible to uphold expectations?

Sacraments/ordinances

• What are the most important rituals in the life of our congregation? What meaning do they convey? What role does physical presence play in them?

• What is and isn’t negotiable about being physically present to participate in these rituals?

• Within what is negotiable, how might we get creative – and invite those online to do the same – in order to invite participation and communicate meaning across online and offline spaces?

The questions I’ve offered over the course of these two posts are not the only ones your church would need to address, but they offer a place to start. Your congregation might work through these prompts and decide that your call is not to be a hybrid church. You might not have the capacity or deep desire. That’s ok! But for congregations that are excited for this possibility and have the resources to make it happen, much is possible. In this time of increased polarization, the body of Christ has become loosely connected at the joints, and uniting those with a propensity to go online for church with those who attend in person offers the chance to strengthen the relationships among these parts to the glory of God.

Photo by Dan-Cristian Pădureț on Unsplash.

Two years ago many churches moved the whole of church life online because of the pandemic. Pastors and congregations felt the frustrations associated with physical distancing and tech trial and error. They also, though, found freedom from “the way we’ve always done it,” new outlets for creativity, and broader reach.

At this point in Covid (which I recently heard one colleague aptly refer to as “pre-post-Covid”), a lot of churches are continuing some aspects of online worship and community. For some this is just for now, since not all constituents are yet comfortable returning to the church campus. For others this is an experiment with what will become a permanent supplement to in-person congregational life. And for a few this is a precursor to full-blown hybrid church, a unified online and offline community that offers belonging, space to ask big questions, and opportunities to create and lead to everyone who is involved.

Constructing this hybrid congregation will take a lot of reflection on and intentionality about everything from the core of congregational identity all the way to the nuts and bolts of day-to-day operations. This week and next I will offer some coaching questions to help your church discern whether hybrid is right for you and how to move into this new way of being a faith community.

Congregational identity

• What are our congregation’s core values, the commitments that define who we are and what we do?

• What has this congregation been put on earth to do? To what future is God inviting us?

• For whom are this purpose and future story good news? Among these populations, who is currently not connected to our congregation?

Pandemic gleanings

• What technology attempts during the pandemic have worked well? What did we learn?

• What technology attempts didn’t work as well? What did we learn?

• What surprised us about what did and didn’t work?

• Who engaged with our church online? In what ways, and how frequently? What has their engagement added to our faith community, and how has our faith community enriched their lives?

• What lasting shifts have we made in our understanding as church as a physical place during the pandemic?

• What new gifts among church members were uncovered during the pandemic?

• What extra responsibilities did our pastor take on during the pandemic? What role renegotiation is now needed?

Preparatory self-reflection

• What does belonging look like for us? What will we need to attend to in order to extend that same sense of belonging to those who primarily engage with us online?

• What assumptions do we continue to make about people who connect to church online (indeed, who conduct much of their lives online)?  Offline? How do we dispel the myths?

• How will we respond if someone who has been an in-person participant pre-pandemic decides to engage primarily in the online aspects of church?

• How do we want to respond if people who have engaged primarily online decide to become in-person participants, acknowledging that that person might know more about the church than the church knows about them?

• How can we encourage those who have returned/intend to return to in-person participation to engage with online constituents to the benefit of all?

• What excites us most about the possibilities of hybrid church? What questions or hesitations do we have?

• What are we willing to give up (e.g., power, particular ways of doing church) in order to give hybrid church room to work?

• What are touchstones for our congregation, in addition to values and purpose, that it would be important to educate about and build welcome around for those who never set foot on the church campus? Examples might include rituals or narratives about the church’s history.

• How could a truly hybrid church help us live more fully into our values and purpose? What might be possible that otherwise wouldn’t?

Stay tuned next week for questions about the practical side of planning for hybrid church.

Photo by Vadim Bogulov 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.

On this day two years ago, I attended my last in-person Sunday morning worship service. It was a surreal event. Only a handful of people were there, and we acted like kids worried about catching cooties from one another. My spouse (the pastor) was trying to figure out how to angle his phone for Facebook Live, something he had never experimented with before. After worship our family of three hustled home and didn't re-emerge for weeks, only doing so once we realized that Covid was not a blip and we’d have to get groceries at some point.

In some ways the start of the pandemic feels like a decade ago. The degrees of isolation and the ebb and flow of the virus have stretched out the time, plus we have learned more about Covid and ways to neutralize it than seems possible in such a short span. In other respects, though, the beginning of lockdown feels very fresh. Anniversaries - I would like to find another word for a somber annual remembrance, by the way - can make objects in the rearview mirror appear closer than they are. The sense memories enfold us and transport us to the states of mind, body, and spirit prompted by the original experience. (“On this day” reminders on social media and in our photo apps only enhance this effect.) For me that means high anxiety born of uncertainty, which manifests as body tension and mental and physical fatigue. Your reactions might be similar or altogether different, but you aren’t alone if you notice something in your being at this two-year mark that isn’t quite explained by current circumstances.

We’re holding a mixed bag as we come to this past-present mingling. We are in Lent, one of those marathon stretches in the liturgical calendar for pastors. This season both gives us a helpful focus and lengthens our to-do lists. We seem to be in a new, more hopeful phase of the pandemic. This reality brings increased possibilities for gathering and can also prompt foreboding joy: When is the next variant coming? What does the decreased attention to virus precautions mean for the big questions we’ve not had space to reckon with but now need to address? And while there is no declared war on American soil, we worry for those facing aggression in other regions of the world, bound to them as we are by our common humanity.

I name all of this to encourage you to be gentle with yourself. Acknowledge your limits. Leave things undone when needed. Take naps. Eat good food, however you define it. Move your body. Spend time with people you love. Do “unproductive” things that delight you. Look for beauty. Along the way don’t forget to keep your eyes peeled for God working - or modeling rest! - in the margins, the crevices, the cracks of daylight offered by a slightly opened door.

Remember that while memories can crash the present and the future is always on our minds, life happens in real time. Be there for it all, the hard and the holy, knowing sometimes there is little distinction between the two.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash.

Today you can find me over on the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship blog with thoughts on why pastoral care is so complicated right now - and how our people can get the care they need. (Click through to read more.)

Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash.

In one sense, not much changed when 2021 rolled over into 2022 a few days ago. Many of the same challenges and opportunities are in front of us. There is not anything magical about the ball dropping in Times Square or switching from one planner to another.

Still, there is something about turning the page that feels different. Perhaps it’s the Anne of Green Gables sentiment that "Tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it," and a new year offers us 365 fresh tomorrows. In church life there’s a bit of time to catch our breath after Advent and Christmas and before Lent. The fiscal year might have rebooted. New leaders may be bringing renewed energy to meetings. Many church members are coming off time with family or time away from work. All of this contributes to a vibe of possibility, making this a prime season for doing some intentional reflection and planning to set your church up well for the coming year(s). Here are some of the areas in which congregational coaching can help, along with key questions coaching can give you the structure to explore:

Leader retreat. Whether your lay leaders have just turned over or have had a few months to gel and find their footing, they could use additional support. What exactly do their roles in your church entail? What equipping do they need to partner well with staff for the good of the congregation? How might they both broaden their imaginations about what is possible and ground their work spiritually?

Pandemic-prompted conundrums. Unfortunately, Covid is still very much with us, and we can no longer afford to wait until it is “over” to mull key questions. What might a more dispersed or hybrid model of church look like in your context? What does membership look like in these changing times? What engagement is needed to nurture the discipleship of constituents and provide them with community?

Visioning. In lieu of a strategic plan, a business model that never really worked well for the church (and really doesn’t in these uncertain times), how might your congregation name its lived and aspirational values and identity as the basis for holy experiments? What evaluation and celebration might you build into your efforts in order to look for the surprising ways that God is showing up?

Reflections on staffing models and pastor searches. Given the changing shape of the Church and your local church, what kind of pastoral leadership do you need? How and where might you find these kinds of leaders and then support their ministries?

In the past year my congregational coaching work has included:

• Training a pastor search team, with the end result of thoughtfully calling a pastor who is a “first”

• Creating spaces for lament and discernment so that church leadership could answer, “Where do we go from here?”

• Guiding a congregation through identity work so that it could make big decisions about its property out of its values and purpose

• Helping a congregation think through a staff re-structure that honors the gifts of current staff and seeks skills needed for new possibilities and challenges

• Facilitating conversation between a new pastor and church leadership to develop understanding, mutual trust, and excitement for ministry together

Congregational coaching can be done via Zoom, making the schedule more flexible, meetings more accessible and less affected by potential Covid spikes, and the cost more affordable. If you’d like to talk about your church’s needs and ways that congregational coaching can help you start 2022 with momentum, contact me or visit my calendar to set up a time to talk.

Photo by Isabela Kronemberger on Unsplash.