I have previously written about how much Tricia Hersey’s book Rest Is Resistance: A Manifesto has spoken to me. (Here is the list of simple rest practices I developed for Lent after I read it.) This rest is faithful. It is what we need for our own wellbeing. And it is a tool for liberation. Last week I expanded on these thoughts with a piece at Baptist News Global. Click here to read “The rest we must have.”

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash.

Recently I read Rest Is Resistance: A Manifesto by Tricia Hersey, who is popularly known as the Nap Bishop. Hersey makes the case that all of us are caught up in grind culture, which is a hyperfocus on productivity around which our entire lives are oriented. Grind culture feeds and feeds on many modes of dehumanization: white supremacy, patriarchy, ableism, individualism, and more. It makes us think that we are what we produce. It causes us to see rest as a reward that we can only claim when we have worn ourselves down to a nub. It keeps us stepping on one another to get ahead. And it is killing us physically (as seen by our collective sleep deficit) as well as mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and relationally.

Hersey says that our response to grind culture’s demands that we do more must be to rest. Rest includes but is not limited to sleep. It can be anything that helps us slow down, replenish, and reconnect with ourselves, one another, and God. It can be lengthy, but it can also be a series of shorter breaks. I often hear from coachees that they struggle to find time for rest. That is largely because of the overlapping issues named above, and it is partly the result of grind culture’s drain on our creativity. It’s hard to come up with ways to rest that fit the moment when we are already so very tired.

With that in mind, I have developed a list of practices that offer rest. I stopped at 40 because that is the number of days in Lent, not counting Sundays. If you choose, you can take on a rest practice each day as a Lenten observance. Let me be clear, though, that I don’t intend these practices as 40 more to-dos to pile on your already-full plate. (That would defeat the purpose!) They are intended simply to give you ideas for some easily accessible breaks if you don’t have the mental space to come up with a means to get some much-needed rest. Click here to download the list. Feel free to print and/or share it.

Stay tuned for an article that elaborates on how rest doesn’t just cause us to feel better and more present but also equips us to push back on dehumanizing forces.

Even before the pandemic, I, like many of you, had begun thinking about how the Church needs to shift in order to be Christ’s body in the world. The twenty-first century has offered Jesus followers new awareness around individual and collective power (both having and lacking it), big questions to ask and challenges to overcome, and an increased number of tools for connecting with and on behalf of others. Covid-19 stripped us down to the studs, allowing us to see what is essential in a faith community. And now we as the body of Christ are moving through lingering exhaustion, fighting an illness that keeps popping back up (though thankfully with more ways to mitigate it now), and wondering which way to go next.

I don’t think any of us has answers about specific models of church. I know I don’t. But I think the characteristics of a flourishing church in 2023 are coming into focus. This month I will be sharing my thoughts on them via an alphabet of the evolving Church.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next week: letters U-Z.

Photo by Robert Stump on Unsplash.

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

Photo by Jukan Tateisi on Unsplash.

[Since this is one of my favorite resources I’ve created, I like to share it annually in time for congregations to distribute it before November 1. Enjoy!]

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. 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.

I recently wrote that I think the traditional committee structure is on its way out. If your leadership infrastructure isn’t working for your congregation, it is essential that the meetings you do have are meaningful spiritually as well as practically. Over on the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship blog, I have a piece up about how to make your meetings worshipful work. Click here to read the post.

Photo by PJ Gal-Szabo on Unsplash.

Yes, your church will want to speed up the search process to put an end to the discomfort and uncertainty of not having a settled pastor. Over at the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship blog, though, I share what gifts of a search your congregation will miss if you hit the fast forward button. Click here to read the article.

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash.

[Note: I originally offered this resource five years ago, and it continues to be one of my favorites. Like 2020, I think this might be a particularly poignant and important year to spend ample time remembering those we have lost.]

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. 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.

“The pastor search team will meet this Thursday…”

Normally I have a pretty good poker face. In this case, though, I nearly wrenched my neck swiveling it so fast from my notes on the pulpit toward the layperson making this announcement from the choir loft. The congregation’s previous minister had exited a mere five days prior, and a search team for his settled replacement was already up and running. (I won’t leave you in suspense about how this story ends. The church called a pastor who was almost the polar opposite of his embattled predecessor. He served for 3.5 years, then was asked to leave. This sequence of events fit neatly into a long-running, unexamined pattern in the congregation.)

When a pastor departs, a church’s inclination is to ask how quickly they can locate a replacement. That is totally understandable. When we experience change - whether positive or negative - there is discomfort. We want to return to equilibrium as quickly as possible. But the time between pastors is bursting with opportunities that are largely unavailable during more settled periods. Here are a few:

• Healing from conflict or grief associated with the previous pastor (or pastors, if there are still open wounds from situations with the most recent pastor’s predecessors)

• Remembering or discovering anew who the church is apart from the personality of a charismatic or long-tenured pastor

• Assessing the congregation’s purpose, gifts, and needs in a new season of ministry and a world changed by Covid

• Right-sizing or reconfiguring staff to meet those needs

• Inviting other staff or lay leaders to exercise or develop talents they haven’t previously

• Leaning more intentionally into potentially transformational practices as part of the pastor search

• Connecting or reconnecting with partners or resources that could inform the pastor search, and more broadly, the church’s ministry

• Receiving and mulling pastoral candidates’ thoughtful questions about the church’s nature and hopes

• Creating or shoring up procedures that improve communication and strengthen trust

• Considering how to welcome the new pastor in ways that develop mutual care quickly

All of this is the holy work of the transition time. It sets up not just your new pastor but your church as a whole to live even more faithfully into God’s invitations. And your congregation doesn’t need to fear taking the time needed to harness all these opportunities, because while you might want an interim pastor to keep things moving and to help you reflect on the points above, the congregation - not a pastor - is the church.

So please, do not form your pastor search team the moment your departing pastor steps over the threshold for the last time. Breathe deeply. Trust God. Open your hearts and minds to the opportunities. You will be so glad that you did.

If your pastor search team needs assistance with making the most of the transition, contact me about search team coaching or check out this self-paced e-course.

Photo by Nareeta Martin on Unsplash.

Over the past six months I have worked with several congregations and groups of ministers, and I’ve found it absolutely essential that participants process their experiences during the pandemic. Otherwise there is an isolating, suffocating stuckness, a desire to get back quickly to whatever is familiar instead of moving forward faithfully as individuals and collectives. Here's where I believe we need to spend some time during our regathering:

We need to break the ice. As I mentioned last week, in some ways we are semi-strangers to one another. For this reason, we won't be able to go deep if we don't have some sense of safety first. Play is one way to create that, and I suggested a few activities designed to take power back from the pandemic's hold over us.

We need to slow down. The temptation is there to jump right back into all the programming our churches had in the Before, when so many people were constantly on the go. School will start in the next month or two, so we need to gear up Sunday School for all ages! And weekday Bible study! And have a fall kickoff! And…and…and. Instead, we need to add things back in layers, after taking a few deep breaths and considering what we’d be gaining and sacrificing by re-starting each ministry.

We need to lament. There's no denying we’ve all lost a lot: people we care about, jobs, routines, sleep, a sense of security, time in community, places we frequented, and much more. Milestones passed without full acknowledgment. Events we long anticipated were cancelled. It’s important to name these losses and offer them up to God.

We need to express gratitude. Without denying the difficulty of the pandemic, there are some surprising graces for which we can give thanks. We’ve learned new things. We’ve shifted or broadened our perspectives. We’ve received notes and calls and porch drop-offs. And if nothing else, we’re still here, and that in itself is worth a party. Grief and gratitude are both prayerful, faithful acts.

We need to explore how we've changed as individuals. We are not the people we were in early 2020. Some of those differences are minor or temporary. Others go to the core of who we are and how we show up in the world, making us fundamentally new people in positive and challenging ways.

We need to think about what those changes mean for how we are community to one another. In some churches, relatively surface interactions were the norm. Now that we all need to re-introduce ourselves, we can go deeper. Since we've had a shared experience of difficulty (even though the intensity has covered the range), we can have a shared vulnerability in naming what that difficulty has done to and for us. Out of that willingness to be real, our relationships can grow stronger, and we can look at the gifts and needs of our congregations and contexts afresh. We’ll then be able more effectively to live the love of Christ for one another and the world.

But what does all of this good work look like? Some can be done during worship, with leaders helping us make sense of all that’s happened, preaching about the courage in vulnerability, and creating ways for all people to participate in liturgy (e.g., naming grief and gratitude during prayer times or hanging a prayer wall for everyone to write on during or outside services). There's processing that can be accomplished individually through prayer stations set up around the themes named above. Christian education classes and small groups could be given discussion guides. And congregational conversations in ways that feel Covid-safe (and as emotionally safe as we can make them) can unearth a lot of what needs to be said.

My sense is that we will need some amount of all of the above means in the early going - and that the trauma will continue to pop up in surprising ways for a long time thereafter. But if we can just start talking in real ways with one another and God, we can begin to forge a faithful way forward together.

Photo by Morgane Le Breton on Unsplash.

Impostors work alone, even if they always seem to be surrounded by people. That’s because they live in fear of being found out. One of the best ways to assure yourself that you’re not a fraud, then, is by seeking real connection with others.

We need some relationships in which we can take off our filter:

Who are the people with whom you can be your truest self?

Whom do you invite to help you and hold you accountable?

Connection can also take the form of amplifying others’ voices. In a vocation like ministry where the title “pastor” still conjures up a very specific, very male mental image for most people, clergywomen need one another:

How might we reach out to support other women?

Who needs our encouragement? How might we give it?

Who needs recognition? About what specifically?

Who might we amplify? How might we do that?

The more we look for mutual support, the more we’ll be able to help each other combat self-doubt.

And the more we lift one another up, the more bonded we will be, with the positive by-product of others better realizing the gifts and experiences have to offer. Everyone wins - us, our colleagues, and those under our leadership. By contrast, impostors are in it only for what they gain for themselves. It rarely matters to them who else benefits - or who might even be sacrificed so that they can continue to look good.

I invite you to make lists or draw concentric circles of your relationships, from your closest ones to your acquaintances. Offer a prayer of gratitude for these people. Consider what it might take to deepen a couple of these connections. Take stock of the abilities of the people on your list/diagram and mull which ones you’d like to encourage further or amplify. Ask for God’s guidance in doing so.

I hope that by now you know deep in your being you are no impostor and that when those thoughts start to tug at the edges of your consciousness, you have some tools to combat them. The church and the world need you, the actual you, and all the wisdom and quirks and sass you bring.

If you liked this post, check out week 1, week 2, week 3, week 4, week 5, and week 6 of this series.

Photo by Carl Nenzen Loven on Unsplash.

Thanks to FX’s tv show The Americans, I have become completely fascinated by spies. How do agents perpetually inhabit such a morally ambiguous space? And how do they stay in their created personas, particularly when they juggle more than one alternate identity?

Spies are, by definition, impostors. They pretend to be someone different, or to like a target, or to operate under an ideology other than their own, so that they can obtain information they likely wouldn’t have access to otherwise. They sometimes - maybe often - have to remain consistent in their inauthenticity over a period of time to squeeze the most out of their marks.

Impostors, then, have to remember the stories they’ve constructed for themselves if they don’t want to be found out. To combat our own sense of being impostors, how might we remember the realities of our work and the truth of our impacts?

What are our purpose statements in ministry?

What is an image that reminds us of our authentic approach to ministry?

How might we build in regular reflections on what we’ve done?

Who are the people who see and value us, and how might we turn up their volume?

We have not imagined the work that we do and the effects we have on others. We do not have to keep concocted backstories in mind in order to speak and act in character. If we stay attuned to the call of God on our lives, we will be the real deal.

What are touchstones you can build in so that you stay on the trajectory onto which the Spirit has nudged you? Maybe the touchstone is a practice. Maybe it is a photo or a doodle on a napkin. Maybe it is a note someone has written to you. Maybe it’s a smooth stone that you keep in your pocket or a piece of jewelry you wear. Whatever it is, keep it handy to remind you as needed that you are showing up and moving about in authentic ways.

If you liked this post, check out week 1, week 2, week 3, week 4, and week 5 of this series.

Photo by Ava Sol 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.

The tightening of the gut. A higher-pitched laugh. Strain in the lower back. Restless sleep. An inauthentic display of extroversion. Extreme overfunctioning. Increased sweat production.

These are my internal and external impostor syndrome tells. (That last one is particularly lovely.) What are yours?

The symptoms that accompany impostor syndrome seem harmless enough. But are they? The physical symptoms indicate stresses on the body that can wreak havoc if they are persistent enough. The emotional, spiritual, and vocational effects might be even more detrimental, though. Impostor syndrome makes us undervalue our gifts and ministries. (What do I know anyway?) It urges us to lead in ways that are not authentic to us (How can I seem more authoritative?), and as a result we don’t leverage our God-given strengths as faithfully as we could. It causes us to doubt our decisions and avoid calculated risks instead of using them as ongoing discernment. (What if I mess up and people realize I don’t deserve their trust in my leadership?) And the comparison that impostor syndrome is often rooted in can lead to such discouragement (Why is everyone doing so much more or better than me?) that we consider leaving the ministry altogether.

Well, here’s the thing about being wonderfully made. We’re supposed to learn from others but not copy them. Our backgrounds, challenges, epiphanies, relationships, and more have been woven together in such a way that we speak and act in ways that aren’t exactly like anyone else, and God uses that for good.

Right now, you being you is changing the face of pastoral ministry, is altering the perception of what a clergyperson looks like. Ministers don’t have to inhabit outsized pulpits at big steeple churches to be effective, thanks be to God! We don’t have to have 20 years of experience under their belts. We don’t have to be male, or white, or straight. We simply have to listen for the nudging and wait on the equipping of the Holy Spirit to be pastors who work for the full arrival of God’s reign. If we do that, we’ll be surprised and delighted by what can be done with what we’ve been given.

This week, spend some time in a breath prayer. Breathe in God’s care for you. Breathe out your care for others, expressed in your own way. Do this for at least a minute.

If you like this post, check out week 1 of this series.

Photo by Noah Näf on Unsplash.

I come face-to-face with self-doubt on a weekly basis. More often, it’s daily. (Ok, ok, multiple times per day.) Why should churches or other ministers think I can help them? Who am I to think I can speak to [insert complex issue here]? What do people think when they look at my rate sheet?

Impostor syndrome is feeling like a fraud, moments away from being exposed, despite having a verifiable track record. When you are your own employer, it’s easy for impostor syndrome to make itself at home in your psyche. After all, your ability to work in your field depends on constantly putting yourself out there. And in my case as a coach, I am not so much offering a thing to purchase as I am myself: my presence, experience, and gifts. That feels very tender and risky if I think too much about it.

Certainly impostor syndrome is not limited to those who run their own businesses. I felt it in congregational ministry as well. Who am I to speak on God’s behalf? What if I hear wrong? Does anything I say or do matter, or am I yelling into the void? I know from talking with coachees that many pastors wrestle with these questions and many more, despite feeling confident that they have been called to ministry and are continually being equipped by God.*

Humility is a good thing. It helps us stay in our own lanes, and it reminds us that we need God and those around us. But when humility mutates into something corrosive, it is no longer a gift of the Spirit. It becomes an obstacle to right relationship with God and God’s beloved.

That’s why I’ll be spending Lent - the season when we focus most intently on removing all that comes between us and God - on impostor syndrome. How does it manifest, and what kind of spiritual reflection can we engage in to step back from self-doubt into a humility rooted in being made in God’s image?

I invite you to join me.

*Some of these struggles are prompted by internalized structural inequities and the prejudices of others. Even so, we must learn how to maneuver through them as we seek to dismantle them.

Photo by Kyle Head on Unsplash.

I originally developed this prayer calendar in 2014, and I think it holds up. The coming year offers us a glimmer of light at the end of the end of the pandemic tunnel, and this calendar can help you begin to orient yourself toward that hope. I welcome you to download and share this resource. A PDF version is available here.

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.

Advent and Christmas are hectic - for pastors and their families, for everyone. All of us want to experience the meaning of the season, not just rush from one activity or event to the next. And yet, it can be hard to know how.

Author and Presbyterian pastor (and all-around amazing human being) Traci Smith shows us the way in Faithful Families for Advent and Christmas: 100 Ways to Make the Season Sacred. In this more liturgically-focused riff on her book Faithful Families: Creating Sacred Moments at Home - which I also highly recommend - she offers accessible descriptions of the seasons and its themes and a range of prayers and activities that can be used with all ages. What I love most is that Traci designs these moments to take as little or as much time as you like and to be very low-stress and low-prep. She holds her offerings lightly, encouraging families to tailor them. And she gives the reader permission not to try all of the suggestions, modeling her advice to streamline the season overall.

Faithful Families for Advent and Christmas would be a handy guide for ministry leaders and caregivers in any year. The book is especially timely for 2020, when it seems certain that Advent and Christmas will look a lot different and much of its observance will be home-based. (There’s even a section on acknowledging big feelings during the holidays, which might come in very handy.) Traci gives permission for churches to use a certain number of selections in its communications, though if your congregation has the resources, the book as a whole would be a boon to families.

I will be using this book when the church calendar flips over. Some sections will be for our family of three. Others I will undertake on my own, because the simple beauty of the language and practices speaks to me in a time when everything seems so complicated.

On the best of days, many churches have long spent too much energy on what they do not have, usually a balanced budget and pews bursting at the end caps. The COVID-19 crisis has ramped up that fear about scarcity. Not only do we not have an offering plate to pass or full sanctuaries, we cannot safely gather in person at all. We do not even have the incarnational comfort of physical proximity.

Ok. All of that is true. All of that is hard. And, it is not the only story. Abundance still exists. You might just have to look a little harder or get more creative to find it. But once you do, you can build on it in ways that will benefit your congregation far beyond the passing of this immediate crisis. Here, then, are some places where you might take stock:

Tech savvy. Who are the people in your church who know how to connect others or disseminate information in a variety of ways by technology? What platforms or equipment might they have access to that your church could use to gather constituents virtually at various times?

Connections to denominational partners. Your denomination (including publishing houses, benefits boards, and more) or middle judicatory has probably sent information out to churches. What resources are on offer? What resources might you ask about, such as mini grants to set up online platforms?

Time. Some of your church members are extra busy right now as they work from home (and possibly try to homeschool their kids simultaneously). Those who are home and cannot/do not telecommute, though, might have availability that they might not otherwise. How might they use that time to serve others, perhaps by calling or texting individuals or hosting virtual gathering?

Individual connections. Who do the people in your church know, whether from school, work, volunteer efforts, professional networks, clubs, or businesses they frequent? How might those connections be leveraged remotely to help those in need, whether within your congregation or beyond?

Individual talents. What are the people in your church good at - whether those are life skills or for pure enjoyment - and that they might teach others to do by phone or video? What can they make and share (with proper precautions) with others, such as poetry or meals or activity kits for kids?

This is not an exhaustive list, but it does provide examples of ways to think more deeply about strengths your church can leverage in a greatly changed context. Getting creative about ways to connect has the added advantage of moving your congregation forward into an increasingly digital world - pandemic or not. And it further trains us to notice where God is at work among us, a habit that is spiritually transformative.

I am part of the teaching team for the Thriving in Ministry program co-sponsored by Wake Forest School of Divinity and the Center for Congregational Health and funded by the Lilly Endowment. Last week program participants gathered for the first time to mull what it means to thrive (and why it matters for that clergyperson, the congregation, and the world). Much of thriving boils down to relationships. We merely survive, at best, when our ties to others are tenuous. Here, then are some ways you can set up your incoming - or settled! - minister to thrive:

Pray for your pastor(s). Pray for them not just as leaders, but as human beings. Let your minister(s) know that they are part of your spiritual practice in this way.

Pitch in on ministries. The clergyperson is not there to do everything. Your pastor is with you to encourage you in your discipleship. Make it clear that you see your minister as a partner in service and worship, not a hired hand to do all the things.

Encourage connections within the community. Ministers are at their best when they have colleagues to learn with and vent to. Urge your pastor to join a clergy group, meet the minister down the road, or become involved with an organization, then be supportive when your pastor is away from the office for these reasons.

Encourage engagement with the wider church. Pastors need interaction with other leaders in the denomination, and that often means going out of town to be a camp chaplain or serve on a denominational committee. Building these relationships within bigger circles gives your minister a broader support network to draw on and connects your congregation to more resources.

Protect the minister’s time with loved ones. This one is so hard - and so necessary. Pastors know what they've signed up for when they accept a call to congregational ministry. And yet, they don’t need to miss games and plays at their kids’ schools, special lunches at their spouse’s place of work, and birthday celebrations with best friends. These bonds will last them long after the relationship with your church is dissolved, so they must prioritize them. They are also a clergyperson’s best daily protection against loneliness, which has not only emotional but physical health effects.

Thriving ministers help congregations answer God’s invitations to show love in a world so desperate for it. If relationships can make all of that happen, why wouldn’t we make sure our pastors are making life-enriching, life-saving connections?