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.

For me, emerging from the pandemic feels like the emotional equivalent of walking out of a cave into the sunlight at high noon on a clear day. I blink rapidly. I shrink from the brightness. I consider running back into the cool darkness of the cave.

In other words, I am not ready to be fully out in the world again. In my mask, I don’t have to worry about my arranging my face into appropriate expressions. With social distancing, I am not forced to make small talk with strangers. If large gatherings are discouraged, no excuses are necessary when I don’t want to have my (barely existent) energy guzzled by trying to find my place, my role, in a crowd. It’s true - this pre-pandemic introvert is in danger of becoming a post-pandemic recluse.

It’s not all my fault. I’ve hardly had any time to myself over the past 15 months, which means my battery stays well below a 50% charge at all times. So as the world opens up more, I’m going to need a minute.

I’m not alone. Some people are So Very Tired in body and soul that they can’t imagine budging from their couches. Others have found online community life-giving. A few are simply not convinced that Covid is under control enough to take the risk of public re-entry.

At the opposite end of the spectrum, there are people who are ready to give free bear hugs to anyone and everyone they encounter. They’ve been craving non-virtual interaction with other humans. They cannot wait to see real smiles and sing in groups and talk about all the things without worrying if their tech will crap out.

There are people in between these extremes too, of course, and representatives of every point along the range are in your church. It’s important to keep this in mind as you craft your re-gathering strategy. Here, then, are some relational factors to attend to in your plan:

• What are the needs and concerns of those who are hesitant to re-engage?

  • How might we help these people?

  • How do we leave a physical and/or virtual seat open for them until they’re (if they become) ready?

• What are the needs and concerns of those who need human touch and talk?

  • How might we help these people?

  • How do we foster meaningful and safe connection in person?

• What capacity do we have to maintain both online and in-person communities?

  • If we can faithfully manage both, how do we keep the two communities connected with one another?

  • If we cannot faithfully manage both, how do we either increase capacity (such as through delegating) or help one community or the other find what they need elsewhere?

In many ways re-gathering is much more complicated than going into lockdown, and people’s comfort level in being with others is one of the ways that the complexity is showing up. Keep in mind that it’s not because one group cares more than another, it’s because the ways of showing care look different depending on individuals’ personalities and experiences of the pandemic. Let us show compassion by remaining open in eyes and ears as well as in hearts and minds.

Photo by MIKHAIL VASILYEV on Unsplash.

In travel terms, the shoulder season is that ambiguous time between peak and off-peak tourism. That feels to me like where we are here in the U.S. with Covid. Vaccines are widely available now to teens and adults, and many are fully inoculated. At the same time, children aren’t eligible for shots yet, and at last check the vaccination rate is under 30% in my county. Life in community is starting to resume, though what that looks like varies widely. Churches are deciding whether and how to dial back precautions. Pastors are juggling ever-changing public health information, growing levels of impatience among church members, the interconnectedness of programming (e.g., how can we start back Sunday School for parents if we don’t feel comfortable re-gathering their children?), and concerns about what responsibilities they’ll be left holding once we can all toss our masks into the bonfire. How, then, do we move forward in this weird and complicated time?

I have continually been delighted by how the book of Acts, which has been part of a regular lectionary diet lately, speaks to our situation. Jesus flies away into the sky, the Holy Spirit breezes through, and suddenly everything looks and feels and sounds different. The rest of Acts is about Jesus’ followers feeling their way along, making assumptions that the Spirit must correct, doing new things (and sometimes stumbling a bit), partnering with unlikely people, and generally figuring out how to share the gospel now that their leader is in their hearts and not before their eyes.

In other words, they experiment - constantly. Everything is up for discussion, because the movement is not what it was when Jesus was around, and it’s not yet what it will be once the momentum really picks up.

This is where we are. This Covid shoulder season is a chance to discover, to try and reflect, then to try and reflect again based on what we learn. This goes for long-time ministries and those we’re just now dreaming about. Here’s an outline for experimentation that you can adapt to your context:

Trying

• What is God inviting us to try?

• What excites us about trying this thing?

• How would trying this thing help us be more fully who God is encouraging us to be?

• Who will lead our attempt?

• What do we need (e.g., information, tools, partners, spiritual preparation) to get started?

• When will we try this thing?

• How will we pay attention to how God might be at work in, around, and through us as we try this thing?

• When will we reflect on what we’ve tried?

Reflecting

• What were the main tasks in planning and implementing this thing that we tried?

• What relationships did we start or strengthen as we tried it?

• What did we learn about ourselves (individually and/or as a congregation) and/or our larger community by trying this thing?

• How did we make faithful use of our gifts (e.g., time, talents, connections, space, money) by trying this thing?

• Where did we notice God at work in, around, and through us as we tried this thing?

• Based on our responses to the above, what might God be inviting us to try next?

These questions are designed to frame experimentation and discernment as the faithful processes that they are, generate excitement for what might be possible, provide a means for ending (without shame) initiatives that don’t work, and show how good things come from trial and error.

There is no full-fledged how-to for emerging from a pandemic. All we can do - actually, what we get to do - is try and have fun doing it.

Photo by Girl with red hat on Unsplash.

I had a short tenure in my first call. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the church. It was full of people who believed like I did, a relative rarity in the southeastern US. I heard exceptional preaching every week from the senior pastor, and I got my own opportunities in the pulpit. And, my office was located on a college campus, which meant I was a short walk away from all the books in the university library. Drool.

But my now-spouse lived a 10-hour drive away. As a United Methodist provisional pastor, he could not leave Alabama without setting back his ordination process. When we got serious about our future together, I was the already-ordained and thus more mobile pastor. I was ok with moving. For one thing, I was awfully naive about my professional prospects in what would be my new home. For another, the church I was departing, as wonderful as it was, had some challenges. I had followed a long-time, much-loved associate pastor who, a couple of years after her departure, was still present in many ways. She had also led the church through a significant change for which there was little lead-up process, leaving church members’ trust in one another, in the university, and in the pastoral staff iffy. While her actions were not in any way intended to cause conflict, they resulted in a number of difficult circumstances. When the senior pastor took his long-delayed sabbatical a few months into my tenure, I ministered solo through a messy situation for three months. By the time he returned, I was wrung out.

The chair of deacons (in this context, he was the key lay leader) was the first layperson I told about my imminent move. He said, “You’ve been a great unintentional interim for us.” That was a gut punch. I hadn’t taken this call to be a short-timer, and this statement dredged up some serious shame. With time, though, I saw his comment differently. I had provided much-needed consistency and clarity during an anxious time. This was a gift I was uniquely suited to give as someone who had barely put both feet in before taking one, then the other, out. This experience set me on a ministry trajectory toward intentional interim ministry and coaching, both of which fit me and my circumstances as an itinerant clergy spouse well. Today, I treasure that deacon chair’s observation and the work it began in me.

Many ministers have found - or will find - themselves in that unintentional interim role. You came into your call with great hope for a long, fruitful tenure. When you arrived, though, you found a church that either had not done the hard work of self-reflection during the pastoral transition, or that had so many issues to address that they couldn’t all be covered in one stretch, or that developed deep fissures over, say, pandemic response. You have realized that your remaining time at your church will be shorter and more intense than planned. You probably have Feelings about that. Whatever they are, they are valid.

Know, though, that just because you are an unintentional interim, that doesn’t mean your leadership isn’t incredibly valuable. You are steadying the ship during a very fraught time. You are allowing problems to surface so they can be named and dealt with. You are loving your people. You are paving the way for your successor to succeed. All of this is the Lord’s work, and you will leave your congregation better than you found it.

So I see you, unintentional interims. You are my people. I am cheering you on, and I’m praying for you.

Photo by Juliana Romão on Unsplash.

A couple of months ago, I believed my turn at vaccination against Covid-19 was way in the distance. But I suddenly found myself with an appointment in late February, and now here I am, fully inoculated. I cannot overstate how grateful I am to have had my turn. (Please take yours when it comes up!)

I’m not the only one with this sense of whiplash. The vaccine rollout was so slow, so discombobulated, at first that normal-ish still seemed out of reach for many of us. But then production ramped up and more vaccination sites opened. All people ages 16 and up in my state are now eligible to receive their doses, and President Biden stated that all adults could have had shots in arms by July 4.

This is fantastic news. It means that the timeline for fully returning in in-person church activities has shortened greatly. And that means that the conversations pastors were planning to have about what post-pandemic church looks like need to start happening now.

Most clergy knew pre-Covid that the church was headed toward major changes - or at least needed to be. Congregations are shrinking. In many cases it’s because members have dug in their heels, building fortresses around ministries that feel familiar instead of responding to the gifts and needs of younger demographics and surrounding communities. When the pandemic struck, so much had to change for safety reasons. And while we all have an understandable desire to reclaim our lives and our routines, we must not pass up this opportunity to think about what could be faithfully different. We might not ever get another moment like this - to reflect on God’s dream instead of simply springing back to what was - while our churches still have critical mass and decent budgets and a chance to flourish.

I believe that the world needs the church. At their best, congregations connect us to each other and to God, affirm the goodness of each person made in God’s image, promote thriving by accompanying people through life’s peaks and valleys and giving them tools to make meaning out of those experiences, offer tangible help to those inside and outside its walls, and push for equity based on the teachings and example of Jesus. Let’s imagine together what this can look like at this time, in our evolving contexts. Here are some questions to reflect on the learnings of the past year and prompt forward-thinking discussion:

• What has this church done well for a long time?

• What did we learn was possible this year that we didn't know before?

• How have these learnings excited us? Revealed God at work among us and through us? Built on whom we know ourselves to be (or whom we aspire to be) as a congregation?

• What have we learned this year about what we want to stop doing?

• What have we missed doing this year that we want to pick back up?

• What do we want our role in this community to be?

• What gaps do we need to fill in to make this happen?

• What do we want to try and then reflect further on based on all of the above?

• How might these choices help us live more fully into our values as a congregation?

As we move into the season of Easter (in which Jesus invites us to consider what resurrection means for us) and Pentecost (in which we celebrate the openness of Jesus’ followers to new people and ways), there is no better time liturgically and public health-wise to consider what God is nudging us toward. If we wait too long to have these conversations, our church members might settle so deeply back into the worn places in their seats that we’ll have to wait for another crisis to drive us to change - or to close our doors permanently.

Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash.

I still tear up every time I read about Facebook friends receiving round 1 or 2 of the Covid vaccine, the photos of their faces reflecting a whole range of emotions: relief, utter joy, regret that people they’ve lost didn’t live to see the vaccine rollout. It feels like we’re collectively turning a corner, especially as vaccine availability ramps up. Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

And yet, this very good news has a shadow side for pastors. Our churches are increasingly made up of the fully-vaccinated, since those who are currently eligible to receive shots are disproportionately represented in most mainline congregations. Those folks are saying, “Woo-hoo! I’m vaccinated. Let’s throw the church doors open.” It’s an understandable impulse after a year of no hugs and unchanging surroundings, but it’s not without issues:

In many states clergy are not yet included in the ranks of those who can sign up for vaccine appointments. Unless your pastor is eligible by virtue of inclusion in a different qualified category, your minister does not yet know when to anticipate inoculation. It can make a clergyperson feel like a hired hand rather than an integral part of the faith community when church members say, “It’s safe for us,” with the implication that that’s the only consideration.

The vaccination of some populations is still an indefinite number of months away. Shots for children, for example, are still more promise than reality. What do we do with that knowledge as a congregation? How do we balance the needs and hopes of those who feel safe coming inside the building with those who do not? What are our deeply-held values as a church, and how are they being lived out (or not) through the decisions we’re making about re-opening? It often falls to your pastor to ask these essential but complex questions.

There’s a lot of pressure associated with Easter. That’s always true, but it’s even more the case this year. Easter is a catharsis after the sometimes painful introspection of Lent. Nobody got their Easter blowout in 2020, and in some ways it feels like Lent 2020 never ended. With vaccines coming online right now, many church folks are clamoring to be in church for that long-delayed sigh of relief and subsequent celebration. That’s not a lot of time for your leadership to put all the necessary precautions in place and communicate those to all who might want to attend.

There are bigger unresolved questions about the shape of ministry, and by extension, the pastor’s job description. Your pastor has learned how to lead worship and Bible study, provide pastoral care, and carry out other key tasks from a distance. And here’s the thing - even when we’ve reached herd immunity, some of those virtual tasks will still be important. People who would never walk through the church doors have found spiritual support through online worship and interaction. Members who are homebound or who don’t drive at night have found new ways to engage with their congregation. This means that your pastor is in danger of having to do everything twice over, when ministers already (both now and in pre-pandemic times) feel stretched too thin.

Pastors are so very, very tired. Your pastor has worked extremely hard this year to care for you, help you stay connected with others, and bring church ministries to you in innovative ways. Beyond the complicated logistics of ministering while distanced, clergy have had to make public health decisions - something no minister signed up for - in a climate that has politicized mask-wearing and staying at home. As a result physical, mental, and emotional fatigue has set in, making all of the above issues that much more daunting.

All of these realities are contributing to high anxiety for clergy right now. Church folks, you can both help your pastor right now and pave the way for your congregation’s effective post-pandemic ministry by asking questions in informal interactions, meetings, and group gatherings:

• What are the values that define us and that we must stay true to as we make decisions?

• Who might get left behind if we do things this way?

• What opportunities (and newly-discovered tools) do we have to be creative in this situation?

• How have our priorities permanently changed in the past twelve months?

• What parts of this decision and its implementation belong to the congregation as a whole?

• What has our pastor taken on during the pandemic that needs to shift back to lay leadership, and how do we aid that smooth transition?

• What are we hearing from the larger community about its hopes and needs at this stage in the pandemic, and how might we contribute in ways that align with our values and gifts?

• What support does our pastor need to be healthy and effective?

There are upsides and downsides to every situation. With curiosity and reflection, though, we can lean into the former in ways that propel us closer to what is possible in partnership with God.

Photo by John Cameron on Unsplash.

It’s pretty easy for me to sit in front of my computer and assure you that you are not a fraud. I know as a fellow impostor syndrome sufferer, though, that it might be a lot harder for you to receive and internalize that word. For the remaining weeks of this blog series, then, I will offer reflection questions so that you can work through the logic for (for those head-oriented folks like me) and root it more deeply in your feelings about (for those of you who are heart-focused folks) yourself.

Impostors are people who can’t show their work. Even as we cultivate awareness of our privilege and acknowledge that we’ve probably had a few lucky breaks along the way (Or were those moments of good fortune divinely orchestrated? God only knows.), let’s think about how we got where we are.

Who are the people who invested in us along the way?

What was it they saw in us that caused them to invest?

How do we know we were called by God?

What work did we put in ourselves?

I’m willing to bet that if you spend some time with these reflection points, you’ll see that you’re not in your current role by accident or deceit. Instead, you’ll have a broader sense of how God has been at work in and around you all along, beckoning you to join in the good work of building God’s reign.

We honor those who have believed in and helped us as well as the image of God within by rightly seeing ourselves. Close your eyes, then, and allow the faces of your supportive mentors and family members, friends and teachers, leaders you’ve known and role models you’ve never even met, to float up in your heart and mind. Remember their instruction and encouragement. Think back to your experience of call, whether it was a sudden realization or a slow revelation. Physically tuck all of these experiences into your pocket or press them to your heart so that you can carry them with you. They are God’s own acts of care, spoken and lived through others.

If you liked this post, check out week 1, week 2, and week 3 of this series.

Photo by Vlad Bagacian on Unsplash.

On my last work-related trip in the Before, I watched the CBS Morning News in my hotel room as I got ready for the day. It was March 10, and Italy had just gone into lockdown. I shuddered at the tv footage of desolate public spaces. With equal parts naivete, willful denial, and internalized American exceptionalism, I thought, that could never happen here. Then I went to my conference, where I sat in a room full of people crowded around tables, shook hands with new acquaintances, and ate my buffet lunch after touching the same serving utensils as everyone else.

The reality of what was unfolding didn’t become real until the next day. The NBA suspended operations until further notice. The SEC men’s basketball tournament sent fans home in the middle of a game as a precursor to canceling the event entirely. These actions grabbed my attention since pro and college sports are big moneymakers with a lot of beneficiaries. Decisions to pause or end seasons would only be made under the most dire circumstances.

The dominos toppled from there. Church gathered for the last time in the building, but hardly anyone was there. The school system made attendance optional the next week before ending in-person instruction for the rest of the year. Stores began closing. Toilet paper became scarce.

All of this unprecedentedness drove me to a depth of uncertainty and fear that I had never known, compounded by the fact that it was taking place everywhere. There was nowhere a person could go within the surly bonds of earth to escape it. How could we stay healthy? Where could we turn for reliable guidance and help? How long would all of this last? What would it mean on the other side? How could I keep from pulling out every last chunk of my hair in the meantime?

I adapted, of course, like we all did. We had to. I mourn all that we have lost along the way: people, trust in leaders and institutions, jobs, small businesses that couldn’t hang on, time with loved ones, planned experiences we had to cancel, milestones we couldn’t celebrate in the same ways, position descriptions that have long since been tossed out the window, relationships with our church members uncomplicated by disagreements about masks and re-opening pressure, and so much more. And, as we all army crawl toward hope in this season of evermore available vaccines, some of the ways I am different now are good.

I’ve written before about reflecting on lessons from the pandemic. I decided recently to approach this from a slightly different angle, that of asset mapping. In this exercise you take all of the gifts you have access to - financial, physical, relational, skill-based, and anything else you can think of - and put each on a separate sticky note. Then you put them all on the wall, take stock, and dream of new ways to put those gifts together in service to your (individual or corporate) mission.

I decided to do this virtually, using Google Keep to visualize gifts I gained or unearthed during the pandemic. (If you haven’t used it before, Google Keep is very intuitive. You can find it in the Google apps tab in your Google-based email account.) I brainstormed all the gifts I could think of, then I color-coded them:

• brown for new physical assets

• yellow for new outlets/platforms

• blue for new teaching/leading opportunities

• green for new products I’ve created or credentials I’ve earned

• pink for new discoveries about myself

• purple for new skills

Here’s what this looked like:

If you want to do this exercise for yourself, your leadership team, or your church, you can start with specific gifts or with categories that prompt thinking about particular assets. Create any buckets you’d like, and make sure you think broadly about intangibles. Note that you don’t have to come up with a lot of post-its or pins for the reflection to be fruitful.

Now that I have my virtual sticky notes, I can easily refer to them when I get discouraged, and I can group them to think about what my ministry looks like in ways that take into account what this year has wrought. This asset mapping is a means of honoring the experience of this year and to using it to reimagine as necessary, even as I do the parallel process of muddling through grief.

On this one year anniversary of my initial (and slow on the uptake) understanding of what this past year would look like, I celebrate with you all the resilience you have tapped and survival skills you have developed. I can’t wait to see how you will put these gifts to faithful, ongoing use in the After(ish).

I got teary when I began seeing pictures on Facebook of people I know - medical professionals, chaplains, hospital administrators and support staff - getting the Covid-19 vaccine. (Thank you for doing your part to protect us all!) Every photo was a glimmer of hope that we are collectively headed in the right direction, that one day we might be able to move about the world and gather in groups again. It feels like it’s been a long time coming, even though the vaccines are something of a technological and chronological miracle.

It’s time, then, for you as ministry leaders to begin mulling what you will need after the worst is over. You have all worked so damn hard. Many of you have been questioned and criticized by your people more than you ever have. You’ve learned new skills out of necessity, not all of which you’ll want to carry forward. What, then, might you need to maneuver in a church and world that will be more recognizable but will never again look just like they did in the first quarter of 2020? Here are a few thoughts:

Renewal leave. If you read no further, this is priority one. Many of you have not been able to take the time away that you needed in the past ten months, whether it was because there was nowhere safe to go or plans were canceled or there was still worship to record for your Sunday “off.” Some of you even missed sabbaticals. I believe that all pastors will need at least four consecutive (paid) weeks for recovery and replenishment once they have access to safe avenues for it. Maybe this means your judicatory or denomination steps in with worship services they have recorded. Maybe you recruit seminarians or retired pastors to cover for you. Maybe you task your key laypeople with preaching and other essential functions. Whatever it takes, you need and deserve renewal leave.

Intentional re-prioritization of job responsibilities. Everybody’s duties changed when the pandemic hit - yours, those of other staff, and those of lay leaders. They will not and should not simply bounce back to what they were ten months ago. It’s possible you discovered new passions or tasks you never want to do again. It’s likely you took on more than you could sustainably handle, but you felt guilty delegating to others who were also feeling overwhelmed. Work with your personnel committee and key leaders to sort all of this out purposefully.

Reflection with others on lessons from the pandemic. Covid was the crash course we didn’t ask for but learned from nonetheless. You likely identified areas your church thought were essential but turned out not to be. Conversely, congregations who were hesitant to do much online found out that they could reach more and different people than they ever thought possible. What is it that your church has paused that either needs an official end or new life? What is it that your congregation has picked up that it wants to celebrate and kill or lean more fully into?

Lay leadership that is willing to dream about how to incorporate those lessons. As you begin thinking about the next nominating season - which seems eons away for those who just went through it - what are the qualities that you need in key roles? Creativity, flexibility, and calculated risk-taking might be among them.

Outside voices to help church members understand that church will never again look exactly like it did in early March 2020 and to guide them in looking forward. Every congregation will have a significant percentage of people who will breathe a sigh of relief and expect everything to go back to business as usual. You know that’s not going to happen. You know it shouldn’t happen, because church needed to make big shifts even before Coronavirus. You might need help conveying that to people who are craving “normal.” Look to your judicatory or denominational leaders to say hard things that you can’t or that need underlining. Congregational coaches can help too, leading your church in conversations that focus on what is now possible.

Ongoing colleague support to be creative and courageous. There are going to be times you simply want to go back to what is familiar too. It’s understandable after such upheaval! Make sure you have pastor friends for mutual support and sharing best practices. It’s important you know you’re not alone in trying to move your church into its post-Covid iteration.

Don’t let this list overwhelm you. Instead, think of these suggestions as seeds to plant in the hearts and minds of your church folks as well as in your own for tending in the coming months.

Photo by Daniel Schludi on Unsplash.

Today I’m over at the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship blog with a post outlining questions ministers and churches can use to reflect on what they’re learning during this time and who they want to be moving forward.

Photo by Jules Bss on Unsplash.

I recently celebrated five years as a coach. I have felt more creative, productive, and impactful doing this work than at any other time in my ministry. I love what I do, and I want to get better at it every day. That’s why I follow a five-pronged approach to my professional development:

I learn about coaching. Each month I attend – at minimum – two hours of continuing education online in the form of learning labs and webinars. I listen to a coaching podcast weekly, and I read books about coaching. Once or twice per year I take a 16-hour training around a particular aspect of coaching. These learning opportunities help me expand my understanding of coaching.

I watch coaching. A couple of the organizations I’m affiliated with occasionally offer live demonstrations by master coaches. I tune in to see how those who have been in the field longer than me facilitate new awareness in their clients. These demos give me a picture of excellence in coaching to strive toward.

I coach. I can’t grow in my ministry – and what would be the point? – if I don’t actually coach! And so I do, happily, four days per week. After each session, I sit and reflect for a few minutes on what went well and in what areas I’d like to improve. These coaching sessions and post-call analyses allow me to inhabit the role of a coach better.

I seek feedback about my coaching. At the end of every first session, I ask new coachees what about my approach was helpful and what I can do on the next call to be more helpful. I emphasize that feedback is welcome throughout the coaching relationship, since my goal is to support coachees in reaching their hoped-for results. I have also created a form for those whose coaching packages have concluded to evaluate the process, my competence, and my adaptability. This feedback gives me other perspectives on my coaching, pointing me to areas that need additional attention.

I get coached. I believe in the coaching process, which necessarily means that I pursue coaching for myself. I meet several times per year with a mentor coach who helps me work through challenges in my role as a coach and as the sole proprietor of a coaching practice. Being coached helps me put myself in the shoes of my coachees and remember what it’s like to be the one bringing the agenda, with all the excitement and hesitancy that entails.

I strive to be the best possible coach so that I can fulfill my call faithfully and serve my coachees well. I pursue professional development eagerly so that I can meet both of these goals and thereby promote well-being in clergy and the congregations they lead.

If you have an intentional interim minister in place or are considering calling one, you might be wondering how Searching for the Called fits with the self-study work your interim and transition team will lead. Great question! As a trained IIM, I have designed Searching for the Called to honor the interim process.

The work of the congregation during an intentional interim is to reflect deeply on the church's history, purpose, leadership needs (lay and clergy), connections with denominational and missional partners, and future. Notice that these areas are the focus of "befriending the past and anticipating the future," stage two of Searching for the Called. In that stage you can find reflection questions, best practices, and tools that can complement those that your intentional interim minister brings to the table. There's also an assessment that helps the congregation know when this self-study is complete.

When your interim minister shifts from coaching the church through this time of discovery to encouraging the search team, Searching for the Called utilizes the same intentionality and deep reflection your minister has been urging during the your movement through the five focus points. It helps create a seamless hand-off from transition team to search team and emphasizes the importance of building on congregational discussions. Since many denominations frown upon interim ministers becoming deeply involved in the search, Searching for the Called can pick up the coaching role as needed.

For those who would like to read more about how intentional interim ministry and Searching for the Called work together, check out this summary for interim ministers.

I am someone who dreams pretty intensely. Maybe it’s because I have a hard time turning off my mind at night. Or it could be that the podcast I have to listen to in order to quiet my brain plants wild notions in my head. Neither explanation accounts for a very detailed conversation I had last night with Nick Saban, who sought out my advice because his board chair was unwilling or unable to innovate. Luckily for Saban, my freshman roommate wandered by, and a couple of Tennessee grads tag-teamed a leadership strategy for the most powerful man in college football. (See what I mean? Vivid. And weird.)

Occasionally, though, I dream the seed of an actionable idea. Such was the case recently when I sleep-designed a resource for ministers. This weekly calendar with reflection prompts is aimed at bringing more intentionality to our lives. Each day has morning and evening coaching questions. In between, the days are divided into three blocks of time. Those blocks can be used to list appointments, to divvy up tasks, or to designate work and leisure time. (In the units of time approach, every day has three units: morning, afternoon, and evening. Full-time work is 10-12 units per week. Subscribers to this method usually recommend booking no more than 2-3 evening work commitments and taking 3-6 blocks off in a row for full rejuvenation per week.)

Below you will find a JPEG of this weekly calendar. Here is an 8.5 x 11″ grayscale PDF. I welcome you to download, print, use this resource. You are also encouraged to share it with others who might benefit.

I’m hearing of more and more churches designing succession plans rather that engaging in an interim period between lead pastors. (Before interim ministry was a specialty, this approach was common in some denominations.) I will admit my bias up front: I believe the time between settled pastors is an invaluable opportunity for reconnecting with the church’s history, understanding the congregation’s specific purpose anew, and making needed changes. I also think there’s huge spiritual transformation potential, because when there is no installed leader, the church has to lean harder into its faith in God’s presence and goodness.

If your church is considering a succession plan, I would urge you to discuss the following:

What are the reasons we want our next pastor in place before the current one departs? It’s important to be able to name motives beyond the desire to avoid the discomfort of the interim time and a lack of confidence in the congregation’s ability to do the work of the search.

In what ways will the current pastor be involved (or not) in the search for the next pastor? One of the functions of an interim time is to allow a congregation to find out who it is apart from the identity of the departing pastor. If the current pastor is permitted to influence the search process, your church will – for good and ill – continue to be strongly influenced by the outgoing pastor’s passions and personality.

What will the transition look like? How much overlap between the pastors will there be (and can you afford it budget-wise)? How will the responsibilities be shifted over the course of that doubled-up period? What agreements and rituals will you put in place for the eventual end of the current pastor’s tenure?

When will we build in time for self-reflection about God’s call on us as a congregation, and what will that process look like? Church mission/purpose statements evolve over time, and the interim is a natural period for re-evaluation. If there is no interim time, what conditions will you put in place to make sure this work happens so that your congregation continues to be as faithful as possible in its response to God’s call?

Calling and building a relationship with a new pastoral leader takes great intentionality, no matter what that minister’s start in the congregation looks like. Leave no question about process undiscussed, and let your choices be guided by faith in God rather than fear of the unknown.

In churches that follow the liturgical calendar, this is the season of Lent, the forty days leading up to Easter (not counting Sundays). Lent is a period of reflection with the aim of clearing away the barriers to our relationship with God. We are better able to celebrate – and then to share the good news of – Christ’s resurrection if these spiritual obstacles have been dismantled.

In a sense the time between settled ministers is in itself a Lenten observance.

Both are times of preparation. There is something that is “not yet.” We wait for what is to come, but our waiting is active, engaged, purposeful. Our hearts need this time during which God makes us ready.

Both are times of wonder. “What is God up to?” is a primary question of this season, as is “Where can we join God in this work?” 

Both call for self-study. We look back at where we have been and what brought us to where we are now. We consider what forms us spiritually – what we want to hold fast to – and what distracts us from our relationship with God and thus needs to be culled.

Both are fraught with potential challenges. Lent and interim seasons are wilderness journeys. There’s real danger that we might double-down on the things that keep us from loving God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength and our neighbors as ourselves.

Both inspire humility – and awe. We realize that we cannot move faithfully into the future under our own power. That God is present even when we don't immediately recognize it. And that God’s love is pulling us forward toward a purpose that takes our breath away.

What would it take for your congregation to embrace the transition time as spiritual journey?

Most congregations require an annual evaluation of the minister. This is a worthy requirement, but it must be framed and conducted well to be useful rather than (at best) frustrating or (at worst)counterproductive.  Below are some suggestions to get the most out of the process. (A PDF of this post, suitable for printing and sharing with your lay leaders, is available here.)

Make sure the right people are in the room. What body should conduct the review? Sometimes this information is outlined in the minister’s letter of covenant/call or in the congregational by-laws. If it isn’t, the group of lay leaders that works most closely with the minister (with input as appropriate from others) should facilitate this conversation.

Be clear about the purpose of the review. What does everyone involved hope to accomplish? The review will be an exercise in fruitlessness, maybe even frustration, if it’s being done merely to check off a box.

Frame the conversation in terms of mutual ministry. Ministry is collaborative, not performative. How are pastor and parish in this together? Where have we helped each other grow or made each other stronger this year? What do we need from one another in the coming year?

Set helpful metrics. What mile markers will tell us how well we are living into God’s call? (Having a functional mission statement makes these criteria much easier to establish.) The wrong metrics prompt focus on surface rather than substantive issues.

Look backward and forward. What have we noticed and what do we hope for? Examining – though not lingering in – the past can be a springboard for promising conversations about what lies ahead.

Welcome the opportunity to minister in the midst of the review. Framing the conversation in terms of mutual ministry allows the participants to check in with one another, not just as fellow constituents of the church but also as people.

Use feedforward for constructive feedback. How can we leverage difficulties into positive changes? Useful criticism starts with what we’ve learned and where we are now, then looks ahead to what we can do differently.

Agree on intervals and means for feedback through the year. Concerns and celebrations don’t need to wait until the formal review. What are the logical times of year for all parties to touch base with each other, and what’s the most helpful way to go about that?

Re-covenant as needed. What about the covenant we’ve been operating under needs to change? As shifts happen, intentional tweaks to how minister and congregation relate to each other need to be made.

Below are some questions that could be useful toward the ends named above.

This past year

At the beginning of last year, what did we believe God had called us to do and be together? In what ways did we live into that? What obstacles did we encounter, and how did we navigate them? What did we learn?

Where did we notice God at work most powerfully in our ministry together this past year? When were we most energized and engaged?

How have we grown as minister and congregation since the last review?

As individuals, how are we doing spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and physically?

This coming year

What do we believe God is calling us to do together in the coming year? What are some first steps in living toward that vision? What obstacles do we anticipate?

How can we create even more space for the Spirit to move in, among, and through us this year?

What changes do we need to make to address obstacles that remain from last year or that we anticipate for the coming year? What resources and leadership do we need to overcome these challenges?

What are our self-care plans for the coming year? How can we support and hold each other accountable?

In what areas do we want to grow as minister/disciples? How might we go about that? How can we support and hold one another accountable?

Specifically for the minister

How well does your position description match what you actually do? What do you need to stop doing? What needs to be updated in your position description to make it more accurate?

How well does your compensation align with your needs and responsibilities? What adjustments need to be considered?

Loose ends

Coming out of this conversation, what follow-up is needed? Who will do it, and by when?

Which aspects of this conversation need to remain confidential? How do we define confidential?

Jesus’ disciple went to the authorities and asked,

What will you give me…

What monetary reward?

What recognition?

What reassurance?

What relief?

…if I betray Jesus to you?

if I take you to him when he is most vulnerable?

if I deny his divinity?

if I ignore his teachings and his example?

if I turn my back on his love for me?

I do this every day.

I betray Jesus

for the love of wealth

for the love of power

for the love of security

for the love of comfort

for things and feelings that are fleeting and fake.

And yet, fully knowing that I will turn on him

– even as I say, Surely not I? –

Jesus invites me to his table,

feeds me with the bread of life,

and offers me the cup of the covenant, saying,

Drink from it, all of you.

I guess “all” truly does mean all,

thanks be to God.

I guess I’d better start living like it.

It’s a strange world we live in. In some ways, our relationships are stronger than ever, thanks in large part to technology. In other ways, we are more disconnected from each other than we’ve ever been (at least partially due, ironically, to the ways we use technology).

Whatever the state of our relationships, it never hurts to reinforce them. After all, they are the primary means for creating circles of care, affecting change, and ushering joy into the world. I’ve developed a list of ten ways to strengthen relationships in this still-young year. They can be applied to individual bonds, teamwork, and our walk with God.

Deepen trust. Without authentic trust, relationships will always stay at a surface level. What small risk are you willing to take to show the real you? How might you invite others to do the same?

Add a layer of communication. We generally believe we’ve been heard better than we actually have been. How can you relay important information in an additional, different way so that everyone is operating from a shared understanding?

Share stories. Narrative is the root and food of knowing and being known. It prompts people to laugh, mourn, and plot together. What anecdote or arc speaks to where you are or how you’re feeling today? Who needs to hear it? Whose stories do you want to seek out?

Reflect on the relationship. Ok, it’s awkward, but it never hurts to ask for feedback on how the relationship is going. What’s working (and not) for him/her? For you? Disconnects can’t be repaired if they aren’t identified.

Embrace conflict. Conflict is simply a difference of opinion. It doesn’t have to come with all the baggage we tend to load onto it. Being forthright – in respectful ways – about our disagreements allows us to learn, and our openness to one another in moments of dissent breeds trust.

Help one another be fully engaged in the relationship. Everyone’s personality is different. As an extreme introvert, for example, I need lots of alone time to be fully present with people. Know and own your quirks, and support others in theirs.

Examen each day. Engage in some sort of reflection at the end of each day. How was I a good friend? How did I fall short? Utilizing the spiritual practice of examen opens up the possibilities even more. Where did I notice God at work today? How did I aid in or hinder the in-breaking of God’s peace?

Increase your curiosity. Instead of imagining someone’s beliefs or motives, ask: tell me what you were thinking when… What did you hope to accomplish by…? We usually default to assuming the worst, and often the truth is better (or at least more complex) than what we thought.

Start from common values or vision. Consider what all parties can affirm. Even if there are differing ideas about how to approach problems, there can be shared commitments underlying them. That’s a much more promising starting point for connection and for change.

Affirm one another. Name what you appreciate in one another. Be specific, and focus on attitudes and actions rather than appearance. Not only does a genuine compliment provide a serotonin boost, it also helps people identify and navigate from their strengths.

Which of these ideas could you begin implementing today? What would you add to this list?

I took several gems of insight away from the keynote sessions at the recent Young Clergy Women Project conference. One in particular helped me articulate a conviction I have held for a long time but have had trouble putting into words, at least in a concise way.

In the world of church, we are too often focused on outputs instead of outcomes.

Outputs are the measurement of the business world. They are easily captured in spreadsheets. In congregations, outputs are the nickels and noses: what money came in this month through the offering plate vs. how much went out for bills and payroll, how many people attended worship this week (and how many of these folks were first-time visitors), what new ministries were added this year.

Now, I’m not saying that outputs are unimportant. Being fiscally attentive is essential to good stewardship. Noting attendance patterns lets us know when we need to re-evaluate our approach and points us to potential pastoral care issues. And taking stock of new ministries gives us some sense of the energy, commitment, and needs among our constituents. (I use the word “constituents” here because it is more inclusive both of visitors to our campus and of the neighbors we work with in the community.)

Outputs, however, are not the best indicators of faithfulness and fruitfulness. Outcomes are. Outcomes are harder to get our arms around than numbers, and that’s why we fall back on our beloved spreadsheets. But which church is growing, in the spiritual sense? The one with a budget built solely on last year’s giving patterns and this year’s pledges, or the one that takes calculated risks rooted in a vision of what the congregation could be and do with God’s help? The one that has ten new members every week, many of whom never connect with a small group or find their niche within the congregation’s mission, or the one that rarely gains new people but is regularly finding ways to share God’s love with the surrounding area? The one that adds new Sunday School classes all the time using boilerplate curriculum, or the one that intentionally teaches and practices disciplines that open participants to the counsel of the Holy Spirit?

Outputs can be useful, but let’s not confuse them with outcomes. They are (some of the) benchmarks, not the goals in and of themselves. Where, then, have the two been unwittingly married in your context, and what separation/redefinition needs to occur for the people in your care to grow in discipleship and service?

You’ve spent months planning a ministry or one-off event. When the time comes for implementation, your heart is excited (and maybe a little nervous) and your brain is fried. Once this all-consuming project is in the rearview, your body is ready to hibernate. You stick all your post-its in a folder and dump all your virtual outlines in your Dropbox and ask, “What’s next?”

[Record scratch.]

How do you know what’s next if you haven’t taken the opportunity to consider what you’ve just done?

When fatigue sets in, it’s tough to name our criteria for assessing the fruitfulness of ministry. Yet, as CPE taught us, action-reflection-action is what keeps us growing as clergy and prevents us from offering a random assortment of programs that don’t build on one another.

I offer to you, then, this downloadable event debrief form. (It’s in Word format so you can keep digital copies of your responses.) It is designed to help you capture essential details and think theologically about how the event served your congregation’s mission. Please use it, share it, and let me know what tweaks to it you would recommend.