Clergy & Congregational Coach
laurastephensreed logo2 (1).png

Blog

Helping clergy and congregations navigate transitions with faithfulness and curiosity

My blog has moved to Substack! You can find new articles weekly there.

Use the button below to search the blog archives on this website.

Posts tagged scripture
To everything there is a season

As the writer of Ecclesiastes says, “For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven.” This is true for individuals, and it is true for churches. There is

a time to wait on God and a time to take action with God;

a time to question and a time to rest in faith;

a time to experiment and a time to commit;

a time to revitalize and a time to close;

a time to listen and a time to make a statement;

a time to gather and a time to send out;

a time to look backward and a time to look forward;

a time to play and a time to study;

a time to take on and a time to let go;

a time to physically distance and a time to embrace;

a time to nourish others and a time to be nourished ourselves;

a time to protest and a time to re-group;

a time to work and a time to take Sabbath;

a time to grieve and a time to hope.

There is a time for all of these things. What season does your church find itself in?

Photo by Vegan Oazïs on Unsplash.

Where do we go from here?

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.

Lament before gratitude

It’s Thanksgiving week in the United States! Yours might look a lot different than in years past, though. You might be observing Zoomsgiving, or you might be gathering with a much smaller group than usual because of the pandemic.

It’s hard not being able to sit around the table with our loved ones. We don’t need to gloss over that heartache. I think that in 2020 in particular, we need to lament our losses before we give genuine thanks for our blessings. Lament is different from despair, in which we stay mired in our grief. Lament is clear-eyed acknowledgement of difficulty, followed by turning our hurts over to God in the confidence that God loves and wants good for us.

A few weeks ago I led a workshop on self-care for ministers. I included lament as a part of tending to ourselves so that we can be more fully present to God and to others (emotionally, if not physically). Below is a part of a psalm, interspersed with invitations to respond.

Psalm 42:2-6 (from The Psalter, (c) 1995, Liturgy Training Publications)

As a deer craves running water,

I thirst for you, my God;

I thirst for God,

the living God.

When will I see your face?

[Name times when God has felt distant lately.]

 

Tears are my steady diet.

Day and night I hear,

“Where is your God?”

[Name what you have shed tears about lately.]

 

I cry my heart out,

I remember better days:

When I entered the house of God,

I was caught in the joyful sound

of pilgrims giving thanks.

[Name what you miss about pre-pandemic times.]

 

Why are you sad, my heart?

Why do you grieve?

Wait for the Lord.

[Pray for the trust and patience needed to wait on God.]

When you feel ready, pray Psalm 42:6b: “I will yet praise God my Savior.”

It is amazing to me that a psalm written so long ago speaks powerfully to our current situation. To me that means that we fall in a long lineage of others who have endured difficulty and looked for God in it. It also gives me hope that God will bring us out on the other side.

May you have a deeply meaningful Thanksgiving, whatever it looks like for you. I am sincerely grateful for who you are and what you offer to the world, especially now.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash.

The difficulty of discernment

Discernment is reallllly hard.

Discernment is also reallllly important.

Here is a link to the audio of a sermon I preached two Sundays ago about the why and the how of discernment. I was in the pulpit at First Baptist Church in Memphis, Tennessee, which is between settled pastors. In my role as the FBC’s transition facilitator, I was speaking directly to the challenge and the gift of discerning along the way to calling a new minister. The sermon also applies anytime we as clergy or congregations feel the internal or external pressure just to get on with it.

Indignation and indifference

“JEEEE-susss, it’s no fair. Mary is making me do all the work. Make her help meeee.” This quote is often used to pit Martha against her sister in Luke 10:40, thus retconning the catfight trope into holy scripture itself.

Not today, Satan. Not only does the typical translation of these women’s relationship set up a false binary between doing and being, service and leadership, it keeps us from more deeply seeing ourselves reflected in the scripture.

Martha says, “Tell Mary to get off her butt.” She speaks to Jesus with the confidence of someone who knows her hearer will certainly see her side. Instead: “Sorry, Martha. I’m enjoying this conversation with your sister.” If she’d had access to an ice pack, Martha would no doubt have used it on her floor-bruised jaw and her indignant-red cheeks.

How often do we approach God authoritatively, knowing God will agree with us? If you’re like me, it’s more often than I care to admit. “Not my will, but thi…yada, yada, yada, I’m sure you’d like to bless me with good weather for my road trip and a change of attitude for that person who has been a thorn in my side and a new on-sale dress for Easter.”

Whole congregations can do this too. We pray for more people to join our membership – because God must want that for us – but what if we’re already the right size to do the job God has for us? We pray for more resources, but what if more money leads to more distractions and excuses from spiritual growth and disciple-making? To the best of my understanding, God doesn’t think in the same categories and metrics that we do.

This is what makes the prayer of indifference – a key component of discernment – so important and so dang hard. It means acknowledging our short-sightedness. It means giving up some control. But unless we can offer prayers that sound like, “Here’s what I’m worried about, please do your God thing” without prescribing what we’d like that God thing to look like, we’re too attached to a particular outcome. That means limiting God, or at least limiting our openness to God.

The prayer of indifference is made a bit easier by cultivating a habit of gratitude. Noting where God has been at work in, around, and through us in big and small ways reminds us that our faith in God’s presence and goodness is warranted. God doesn’t do on-demand prayer responses, but God hasn’t abandoned us yet.

What adjustments to your prayer posture would you like to make? How might you incorporate noticing gratitude into your routine to make these changes possible?

Balking at binaries

When I was growing up, I thought being a strong woman – since “strong” is a stereotypically masculine virtue – meant that I had to reject anything associated with femininity. I didn’t wear pink. I refused to learn how to cook. I cut my hair short. I played on the boys’ church league basketball team. (In fact, my short hair and blousy basketball jersey combined with a referee’s poor eyesight prompted him to refer to me – game after game – as “little man.”) I sought ordination and a ministry position in the Baptist world, even though I had only seen men in those roles.

So no one was more surprised than me when I bought a sewing machine ten years ago to make kitchen curtains for my new house. I then made placemats, napkins, pillows, and other domestic items in addition to some clergy stoles. I realized that I loved sewing, dangit. And, as it turned out, I was no less strong than I’d been pre-Singer. I began to understand that the feminine-masculine binary was not just hurtful but false. I deeply regretted subconsciously buying into the message that male (again, defined stereotypically) was better and female was lesser. I wondered what other joys I had deprived myself of in the effort not to be too girly.

Masculine-feminine binaries are not the only ones that keep us from living abundantly, however. At Nevertheless She Preached, Jaime Clark-Soles talked about the way traditional interpretations of the Martha-Mary relationship sort their roles into bad and good. In Luke 10 Mary chooses the “better part” by sitting at Jesus’ feet while Martha is “distracted by her many tasks” (NRSV). But the latter descriptor is more accurately translated as “drawn away into much ministry,” with the Greek word for ministry used by and about Paul elsewhere in Acts and the Epistles. We have falsely pitted Mary and Martha against each other for millenia while both were attending to aspects of the life of faith.

In congregational life binaries translate into polarities, either/or pairings that are better viewed as both/and. Should we be a church that cares for those who are already here or that goes into the community to share God’s love? Should we have traditional or contemporary worship? Should we be pastor-led or lay-led? Generally, the answer to all of these questions is “yes.” Too often we think we cannot do or be both and must choose. But polarities cannot – should not – be solved, only managed, in order for us to accept the fullness of the work and the abundance that God wants for us.

These days, I wear pink (and most days, a skirt). I’m a mom who revels in that role. I’ve also cut my hair short again and enjoy crude jokes way more than I should. My strength and joy are enhanced, not diminished, by this complexity. Where do you need to rename binaries as polarities, and what do you and the people you care about require to thrive that in-between space?

[Note: this is the fourth of four posts inspired by the Nevertheless She Preached conference.]

Ten commandments for welcoming your new pastor, part two

Here are my translations of the sixth through tenth commandments into practices for congregations to covenant around when welcoming their new ministers.

6. Thou shalt encourage, encourage, encourage. Share your hopes with your new minister. Express your excitement that your minister is part of your community. When things go well, give your minister genuine and specific affirmation. That feedback provides replenishment, motivation, and focus.

7. Thou shalt address concerns directly and promptly. Don’t allow problems to fester, and don’t relay your beefs through a third party. Instead, give constructive and timely comments so that the issue can be nipped in the bud. Though it is hard to tell people things it might hurt them to hear, your minister will appreciate your courage, forthrightness, and investment in the relationship and in the church and will know that you can be counted on to give honest feedback.

8. Thou shalt pay your minister fairly. Appropriate cash salary and benefits and annual cost of living pay increases will allow your minister to focus on ministry alongside you instead of on scraping together enough money for groceries.

9. Thou shalt refrain from making assumptions, and thou shalt stop rumors in their tracks. It’s easy to make mental leaps about someone you’re just getting to know, then spread them around as facts. Instead, be curious. Ask. Use your wondering to build the relationship.

10. Thou shalt manage your expectations. Remember that this is a new city, faith community, and role for your minister, and there will be a period of adjustment. Be helpful and welcoming without monopolizing the minister’s time and attention.

Chisel these guidelines into a couple of stone slabs and keep them constantly before you, and you will have laid the groundwork for years of growing in God and serving your neighbors together.

Ten commandments for welcoming your new pastor, part one

Moses’ trek to the top of Mount Sinai and his receipt of the ten commandments came up in the lectionary lately. Call it coincidence or divine timing, but I happened to be preaching that Sunday at a congregation that was two weeks away from calling a new senior pastor … and I had been invited to speak directly to ways the church could welcome her new leader. I took the Sinai commandments and translated them into practices to covenant around as this minister and this congregation began their journey together. Here are the first five:

  1. Thou shalt keep God first. Relationships built on shared faith lead to fruitful mutual ministry, and that is the goal of the clergy-congregation bond. Invite God into all your plans for welcoming and interacting with your new minister, and your belonging to one another will get off to a fast start.

  2. Thou shalt open yourselves to your new minister’s ideas and gifts. Your congregation no doubt has tried and true ways of being church together. You likely also have some traditions and practices that need either to be memorialized or revitalized. Your new minister will bring experiences, gifts, and fresh eyes to your church. Allow your minister to exercise them in ways that strengthen your witness, even if that means smashing a few idols in the process.

  3. Thou shalt be mindful of how you use God’s name. Names – and the ways we use them – have power. Use God’s in heartfelt prayers for your new minister and your journey together. Try out using relevant adjectives for God in your devotional time: welcoming God, life-giving God, loving God, surprising God.

  4. Thou shalt rest and urge your pastor to do the same. You are near the end of a long interim period, which tends to deplete a congregation’s energy. Take your hard-earned sabbath so that you will be rejuvenated for the mission God has for this church. And remember that your new minister, though no doubt excited to be with you, will likely be tired from all the physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual efforts that moving requires.

  5. Thou shalt tend to your relationships with your new minister, minister’s family (if applicable), your current staff, and one another. Pay attention to people who are struggling with the transition. Be vulnerable with each other – this will build deep trust that you will rely on in the years to come.

Stay tuned for the other five commandments, coming next week.

The in-between time as Lenten journey

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?

Advent arcs

The special season of waiting for the birth of the Christ child has come around again, bringing a new liturgical year with it. I don’t know about you, but for me the undercurrent of danger in the Advent scriptures is more relatable than ever before, and I need to hold on more tightly to the peace, connection, and equality that Christ’s incarnation portends. If you’re feeling the same, here are some possible themes to explore in preaching, teaching, and writing this month:

Listening to women’s voices. The lectionary gives us the Magnificat (with an option to use it on Advent 3 or 4) and Mary’s conversation with the angel Gabriel. Mary is not a wilting flower in either passage. What do these interactions tell us about how God sees women? How do we better attune ourselves to and/or amplify the voices of women?

Naming the ills of the world. In addition to the Magnificat, the texts from Isaiah and Mark invite us to pinpoint the injustices we see around us and to repent for our roles in them. How – specifically – have we fallen short in loving our neighbors as ourselves, and to what changes do we commit? Who else do we need to call to repentance, and for what?

Claiming our role in the redemption of the world. God uses mere mortals to bring about God’s purposes: Mary and Joseph; Elizabeth, Zechariah (thought merely mentioned in this year’s texts), and John; shepherds; even – dare I say – the emperor whose decree forced a very pregnant woman to make a hard journey and give birth in a barn. What is our part in ushering in God’s reign?

Staying vigilant. “Beware, keep alert, for you do not know when the time will come.” (Mark 13:33) As our political scene, cultural dynamics, and military engagement status quickly evolve, we are living in times that call for wakefulness. How will you stay alert?

Preferring the outcast. Mary’s Magnificat makes no bones about it. God favors those who show awe and fells the proud. He fills the hungry and gives nothing to the powerful, for they have already grabbed more than their fair share. God has done these things, and there is no reason to believe that God will do otherwise in the future. Who are the “lowly” to whom we should be paying heed?

Embracing hope and joy in the midst of uncertainty. Gabriel’s visit blew to bits Mary’s (and Joseph’s) expectations of the future. Her “overshadowing” by the Holy Spirit put her in dire straits. And yet, scripture points us to the long arc of God’s work in the world. How will we open our hearts, minds, and spirits to the work of God so that we might choose joy over fear?

Renewing the promises. We are starting the church year over and journeying again to Bethlehem. In doing so, we note the reliability of God’s promises and presence, still firm even as circumstances around us change. How does this trustworthiness encourage us to live? What in our lives needs renewal or redemption with the turning of the liturgical calendar?

A Maundy Thursday reflection

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.

A pastoral prayer for these days

God of all creation,

you made the world we know out of a dark and formless void.

Before your breath swept across the face of the waters,

there was no light.

No sky.

No land.

No way of marking time.

No vegetation.

No animals.

No humans.

You made everything out of nothing, out of chaos.

And it was all good.

On behalf of everyone whose life feels out of control this morning,

who wonders how anything good could come out of such mess,

we pray to you this morning.

Where there is fear, let there be courage.

Where there is discord, let there be unity.

Where there is sickness, let there be healing.

Where there is oppression, let there be liberation.

Where there is loneliness, let there be connection.

Where there is worry, let there be peace.

Where there is want, let there be enough.

Use us, your people, to bring about all of this good,

because in your blueprint,

you bestowed upon humankind responsibility for all living things.

Prompt each one of us,

whether we are the leader of the free world

or have no formal position of power,

to use the skills and influence you have given us

in ways that make your world a place that is more just

more interdependent

more joyful

more beautiful

more sustainable.

 

These things we ask in the name of Jesus,

who came to redeem the brokenness in all that you made,

and by the power of the Spirit, which recreates us on a daily basis. Amen.

Resource: Advent reflections

Growing up Southern Baptist, I did not observe liturgical seasons. (To be fair, I did not know such seasons existed, at least in the Protestant world.) When I was introduced to them in seminary, corporate worship and my personal devotional life became more layered and more nourishing to me than when my high holy days had consisted only of Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, Homecoming, and the Fourth of July.

I particularly love Advent, with its emphasis on waiting and on faithfulness in the face of great risk. The candles in the Advent wreath illuminate our way to the manger, guiding us to consider love, hope, joy, and peace in the midst of our current circumstances. Each of these themes is so rich that it deserves attention for more than one hour per week. For this reason I have created a calendar of daily reflection questions to prompt deeper engagement with these foundations of faith. The calendar is available as a copier-friendly PDF, a more colorful PDF, and a JPG (click below to download). Feel free to share it on social media, print and distribute it, or use it as your next newsletter article.

advent 2016 - color.jpg
Rejoicing in God's saints

Sometimes I wish All Saints’ Day could be more than, well, one day. Our lives are shaped by so many people who have gone before, whether we knew them personally or not. I think we could all benefit from reflecting on their influence and considering what parts of their legacies to carry forward.

Since All Saints’ Day is November 1, and since we are already inclined toward thanks-living during November, I have put together a month-long prayer calendar with daily prompts to remember a departed saint whose impact has been significant. This calendar is available as a copier-friendly PDF and as a Canva PDF. Feel free to share the calendar on social media, print it for your church members or yourself, or use it as your November newsletter article.

rejoicing in gods saints.jpg
Searching for the called: six months into the research

Abraham sat on his front porch, fanning feverishly to break up the thick heat. The sudden appearance in his yard of three men brought him out of his reverie. Spry for a 99-year-old, he hurried over to them. Friendly faces were hard to come by, even around Abraham’s own home. There had, after all, been many an argument with his wife Sarah about his son by another mother. “You must be tired from travel. Please, take a load off, and I’ll bring you a snack.” Abraham didn’t just dump some pretzels on a napkin, though. He raced inside and asked Sarah to make bread. He ran out back and threw a few very fresh steaks on the grill.

As the mystery men devoured their feast under the shade of a tree, they asked, “Where’s your lovely bride? We’ve got some news for you both.” Sarah was stuck in the kitchen, and she had the hearing of an 89-year-old, but she could still make out the conversation over the clanging of pots. When the guests said that they’d be eager to play with Abraham and Sarah’s newborn when they came back this way a year later, she not only received the message, her laughter strained her obliques. The whole visit had an air of mystery, if not absurdity. And yet…in the hospitality Abraham and Sarah offered to three complete strangers, they received a blessing: the confirmation of a divine promise and – finally! – a concrete timetable for its fulfillment.

Hospitality is a central theme in scripture. Because Abraham and Sarah, because Moses and the Hebrew people, because Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were all once strangers in strange lands, we as their theological descendants are responsible for welcoming all who wander. And in a vocational sense, some of the most nomadic people are congregational ministers, looking not just for a job but also a place to fulfill a calling, to label home, and perhaps to nurture a family. Yet I don’t believe that most search committees think to approach their essential work as hosts.

If hospitality is a foundational virtue for Christians, what would it look like for search committees to create space for welcoming fully the gifts and the challenges of ministerial candidates – people who are just names on a page at the outset? What if search committees asked themselves how they could not just give a nod of acknowledgment to the Holy Spirit, but invite the Spirit into their conversations, listen for her wisdom, and wait for a blessing? What if search committees took ample time to build trust among committee members so that they could bring the fullness of their talents and faith and doubts – even their incredulous laughter – to the search process? What if search committees greeted their candidates with outstretched arms – including the ones who seem a bit mysterious, if not downright strange – and asked them questions that really got at their stories, passions, and capabilities? What if search committees engaged their churches and their communities ‘round the tree, giving them appropriate means for input into the process? What if search committees and congregations, instead of handing their candidates of choice a cup of pretzels and some tap water, killed the calf and baked a cake and really celebrated the start of a new relationship?

As Christians we tend to love hospitality as a concept, but putting feet to the ideal is scary because it involves welcoming the unknown. There’s no way to predict what danger awaits. Hospitality in search & call is no different. Maybe the Holy Spirit will prompt us to do something hard or unexpected. Maybe we’ll disagree about whom to call or how to go about it. Maybe we’ll fall in love with a candidate who will really stretch the expectations of our congregation. Maybe our church members will want to unearth skeletons or our community will say they need something from us that we’re not ready to provide. Maybe our minister’s worth and needs will strain our budget.

While there’s no way to anticipate the dangers in hospitality – though goodness knows we try – there’s also no way to predict blessing. As Abraham and Sarah found out, in God all things are possible, even a woman of very advanced maternal age giving birth to her long-awaited joy. In God a congregation’s self-study in preparation for a search can help it understand itself anew. In God intensive spiritual work done by the search committee can generate seeds for discernment that are then blown and take root across the whole of the church. In God the arrival of a new minister can breed needed energy and excitement. In God a good pastor-parish match can lay the groundwork for fruitful mutual ministry, one that is focused on living toward a divinely-given vision instead of on playing whack-a-mole with various conflicts.

Blessings beyond that which we dare hope for await those churches who take hospitality seriously. I believe this deep in my bones. Now, I did not start out this project with hospitality as my lens, but as I read and interview and survey all parties involved in searches, the recurring pitfalls keep pointing in that direction. The problems I hear about are rarely intentional; search committees often don’t know how to seek out the Holy Spirit’s counsel throughout the process. How to meet candidates’ disclosures with their own compelling, truthful narrative about their church. How to communicate effectively with candidates and with their own congregation. How to welcome a variety of candidates, then decide well which ones remain friends and which one becomes family. How to ask useful questions of the ministers they interview. How to have hard but needed conversations about the expectations of everyone involved in the process. How to compensate ministers in ways that honor their professionalism and personhood. How to formalize new calls in covenantal language. How to help the called pastor become “one of us.”

Search committees are made up of extremely capable, faithful people. They have the wisdom of judicatory leaders, theological school partners, and parachurch organizations at their disposal. The foundation is there. Here’s the contribution I hope to make. One year from now, I want to be able to offer to search committees and the folks who counsel them an approach to the call process that is grounded in practices of hospitality. I do not envision this approach as do this, then this, then this. My project is an ecumenical one, and call processes vary across denominational lines. And in free church traditions, searches look very different from congregation to congregation.

Instead, this work aims to be a tool for teaching search committee members how to ask each other, their church, their candidates, and the Holy Spirit questions that remove the barriers keeping each party from appropriately sharing with and fully listening to one another. These may be nuts-and-bolts questions like, “what do our by-laws say about how to handle this part of the process?” But more often they will be questions such as, “What does the Spirit have to say about this direction we’re leaning toward?” “What do our candidates need from us?” “What has not yet been said that must be said?” “What’s causing us to feel this way?” When search committee members are able to discuss these deeper-level concerns, hospitality, with all its short- and long-term blessings for congregation and minister, can more fully take root.

Picking the low-hanging fruit

At The Young Clergy Women Project conference this summer, keynote speaker Dr. Margaret Aymer taught participants how to design contextual Bible studies with a missional bent. Every discussion of scripture, she said, should conclude with a commitment to action: what small, immediately-doable step can we take in light of what we’ve learned together?

Dr. Aymer used a fruit tree metaphor for sorting possible action items. Low-hanging fruit can be gleaned without too much effort. As you reach for fruit further up the tree, you’ll need a taller stepladder, exert more energy, and take more risk. (You’ll also be able to pick fewer fruits at a time, since you’ll have to juggle your harvest and hold onto the ladder.)

I’ve found the fruit tree metaphor very useful the past few weeks:

What fruit is hanging within easy reach? What small course corrections can I make that will yield big results?

What low-hanging fruit do I need to leave hanging so that others can glean it? How can I be a Boaz and empower the Ruths around me?

When do I really need to break out the stepladder? Have I plucked all the fruit I can/should with both feet on solid ground? Or is the fruit that grows further up somehow more substantive?

How can I minimize the risk? Or, shifting perspective a bit, whom do I need to hold the ladder for me as I climb and to tell me how to reach fruit I can’t easily see?

May your theological discussions and the initiatives that come out of them be fruit-full.

Contextual Bible study

A couple of weeks ago I attended The Young Clergy Women Project conference in Austin, Texas. I have gone to seven TYCWP conferences primarily for the fellowship, but the content is invariably excellent as well. Led by Dr. Margaret Aymer, this year’s plenaries focused on how to design a Bible study that emerges from the questions of the community.

The first step in the process is to gather some of the community’s leaders and ask them to name the most pressing issues facing the community. This group then brainstorms some passages of scripture that could potentially speak to the selected issue and chooses one to study.

The Bible study facilitator then takes the passage and creates discussion questions about it with the issue in mind. The questions attempt to draw out and privilege the wisdom in the room. They address such angles as:

  • what the scripture passage is about

  • who’s in the passage and what they’re doing

  • what the context (historical, narrative, etc.) is in relation to the selected issue

  • how the passage speaks to the issue and the community’s context

The Bible study is not just an academic exercise, however. It ends by asking, “Now what are we going to do about the issue at hand, given our discussion of this passage?” The students name possible actions and choose an easily doable one to tackle.

The contextual Bible study would be an effective approach in any situation, but I believe it would be especially helpful in situations of conflict and/or transition. If you’d like a fuller explanation of this method, the Ujamaa Centre for Community Development and Research has a manual here.