Creating God,

you wove a pattern of work and rest into the design of the universe:

making good things for six days and consecrating the seventh for sabbath,

giving our bodies a daily rhythm of productivity and sleep,

and even mirroring this starting and stopping in nature

by prompting plants to bloom and then lie dormant.

On this Labor Day weekend we celebrate good work, paid and unpaid:

shaping our days,

giving us purpose,

utilizing the range of skills you gifted humanity with,

making it possible for us to buy both essentials and extras

until we reach retirement

and live out our days on the saved-up fruits of our labors.

At least, that’s the idea.

But some people work multiple jobs and still cannot make ends meet.

Some people cannot find employment because they have criminal records.

Some people reside in areas where jobs are scarce.

Some people are discriminated against in the hiring process because of their race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, disability, or religion.

And during this pandemic, work is all the more fraught.

Many jobs increase employees’ exposure to the virus.

Many employers have closed up shop.

Many childcare options for workers with young children have disappeared.

Rest at the end of each workday is hard to come by because of anxiety and limited leisure outlets.

Re-creating God, help us.

Give us work we can feel good about,

protect us from harm as we go about it,

provide for those who are unable to work or whose work does not pay fairly,

open the hearts and minds of those who have jobs to offer,

highlight what needs to shift in our economy so that all might know abundance,

and inspire and empower us to change systemic inequities.

Make it possible for us to look at our collective labors and say, “It is good”

before taking a holy nap.

These things we ask in the name of a Christ who both hit the road and hid out for breaks.

Amen.

“The progress that women ministers have made in the Southern Baptist Convention since 1980 has been encouraging, but many problems persist which prevent women from becoming accepted by the conservative-controlled Convention as church leaders called by God. The rift between conservatives and moderates is the primary barrier, and this division is the result of political and theological differences so intertwined that they are often indistinguishable. Conservatives have been phenomenally successful in their attempts to control the SBC hierarchy. They have a well-defined ideology based upon biblical inerrancy and pro-traditional family values (conservatives are able to play very effectively upon Baptists’ fears that the family is in decline), and they have productively utilized the pulpit, increasing exposure and influence in the national political forum, and a well-organized network of conservative leaders to communicate their views and mobilize support.”

I wrote these words in 1999 as part of my undergraduate thesis, in which I examined the obstacles and possibilities for Baptist women in ministry before leaping headfirst into seminary the following fall. After reading the excellent book by Kristin Kobes Du Mez on white evangelicals and the culture war, here’s what I’d go back and tell myself as a college senior:

1) It’s going to get more fraught, not less, within all of white Christian evangelicalism. Buckle up, because the culture wars will greatly impact your life long after you shed the evangelical label.

2) You don’t yet have the whole picture. The culture wars are about so much more than politics and biblical interpretation. (Spoiler alert: it really has little to do with the Bible.)

Jesus and John Wayne filled in many of the gaps for me. In the past few years I have become particularly fascinated by the geopolitics of World War II and, even more so, the Cold War. Evangelical leaders utilized Americans’ fear of the Soviet Union coming out of WWII, the military ramp-up around multiple wars in the mid to late 20th and early 21st century, a growing and well-utilized communications network (including publishing houses, radio stations, and mailing lists), increasing influence over elections and policy resulting from that communications empire, complementarian ideology that established a rigid chain of command in the home and in society, and white people’s fear of cultural erasure to divide the citizenry and claim power. Anytime it seemed that the white evangelical influence was on its way out, even sometimes due to its own financial and sex scandals, power brokers stoked that sense of embattlement to get out the vote and encourage evangelicals to make their opinions felt in other ways.

If you want to know why childcare is so expensive while women still make less money than men, why certain segments of Christianity are pro-gun and pro-war (while also often being pro-life when it comes to abortion), how white supremacy has continually been nurtured, why poor whites often vote against their economic interests, and how politicians who thumb their noses at “family values” ride waves of white evangelical support into office, read this book. It might not make you feel hopeful, but it did help me feel like I had a better grasp of this bizarro world.

On Sunday I celebrated an important anniversary. Last August 16 I was run over by an SUV while crossing a busy downtown street. It was not an experience I’d wish on anyone. When I see a character get hit by a car on tv, I still have a reaction that is all at once physical, psychological, and emotional. I scream, hold up my hands, and brace for impact. I expect that response will never fully go away.

I am incredibly grateful to have survived such a horrific event. I occasionally wondered in the early stages of the pandemic, though, “I stuck around for this?” It was always a fleeting thought, but it was also an honest one, acknowledging how much has changed since March and how a lot of that change sucks.

Not everything is terrible, though. My son and I were talking recently about what is different for him after these past five months at home. In that time he has learned to ride a scooter, play Minecraft, use Google Docs to write his short stories, and make stop motion videos. He has discovered new favorite book series. He has improved his drawing skills in ways he’s really proud of. There’s more, but you get the idea. This space has allowed him to experiment and explore, largely at his own initiative.

I started thinking along the same lines for myself. I realized that I’ve done some new things I’m happy with too - webinars, writing, small group coaching sessions around focused topics, cohorts - but I didn’t want to focus on the productivity pieces. It didn’t seem particularly helpful to tie my satisfaction to these kinds of measurable outcomes, because what if I’m less productive when school starts? How will I feel about myself then? Instead, I honed in on how I as a person have grown. (I share all of what follows with gratitude for my spouse, who is my sounding board, co-parent, and constant support. I try to be the same for him.)

I am more adaptable. I like to have and work a plan, and I usually like to work big chunks of that plan in silence. [Hello, raging introvert here.] Well, good luck with any of that sheltering at home for an unknown period of time, particularly with an extroverted seven-year-old. I was forced to be more nimble, and after a while it started to come a bit more naturally to me.

I am more resilient. There were points during the first couple of months when I was nearly incapacitated by stress. I was tired all the time but didn’t sleep well. Everything felt out of control. As I re-oriented to my purpose (see below), took a few minutes each day for more right-brained activity (paint by numbers!), and power-walked daily around my neighborhood, though, I found myself more grounded and ready to deal with what came.

I am more deeply-rooted in my call. As I listened to coachees and colleagues during the early weeks of the pandemic, I began to hear patterns and themes: how do I deal with this change or that? How do I tend to my well-being in the midst of it? Helping ministers and churches navigate transitions well is where my heart is. I recognized I had something to offer, whether it was coaching or information or connections to others going through similar circumstances. I needed and leaned into that re-affirmation of niche.

I am a better parent. Before March I was worried about how to get through the summer when our small town has few childcare options. [Insert maniacal laughter here.] I thought I had to compartmentalize work and family to do either well. As it turns out, I don’t. (A lot of this, for sure, has to do with my kid finding his own initiative during this time.) I take time to switch mentally between the two, then I can do science experiments and read to my son or help him find Lego pieces and generally be present with him while I do it. Not perfectly, for sure, but much better than before. And I get and give many more snuggles now, which I’ll take all day long.

Things remain hard, but they are definitely not all bad. I’m glad I stuck around for this.

Photo by John Baker on Unsplash.

I wrote the post below three years ago, with all the blushing innocence that 2017 afforded us. I think, though, that taking the time to shift our foci between tasks is more important now than ever. The pandemic has smushed our work and personal lives into one amorphous mess, compelling us to try to do all the things while feeling like we do none of them justice. But what if we took a deep breath in between answering an email and answering the ten-questions-in-one hurled at us by our child? What if we spent a few moments in centering prayer in between Zoom calls? What if we took a short dance break in between filming worship segments? What if we did a brief body scan at bedtime and stretched out areas of tension so that we could rest better? We still wouldn’t have all the time we needed to complete our to-do lists - that’s simply not possible right now for many of us - but we would be able to show up more grounded for others and be kinder to ourselves. You are worth that, and so are the people you care about at church and at home.

I love my lists and my Google calendar. They make my chaotic life feel manageable(ish). Still, there are times when the to-dos meld into  asinglerunontask and events overlap. That’s when my brain kicks into hyperdrive, my eyes dart around my desk, and my heart picks up the pace. I’m TCBing, with output of questionable quality. I’m everywhere at once, but nowhere fully present. Maybe you can relate.

I confess that I sometimes I sing “I’m Every Woman” to myself with whiff of pride. But it’s not always (often? ever?) good to be every woman at every moment. I don’t want to be mentally running through research while eating dinner with my family. I’m not my best self as a leader if I’m sketching my sermon outline during a committee meeting. It’s hard to give good pastoral care to someone who is grieving when I’m still coming down off a tense conversation with a colleague. Yes, there are times when I have to manage multiple responsibilities, but not as often as I try to.

Hence the need for transitions: into and out of my workday, from one task to another, between conversations that require emotional awareness and sharp mental focus. Anytime a shift in mindset is warranted, I’ve got to take a moment to close one internal file and open the next. This transition allows me to consider how I want to show up for the situation I’m about to enter and to re-center myself so that I can live toward those intentions.

There are any number of ways I make the shift – sometimes more successfully than at other times, I admit. Taking deep breaths to re-set my brain. Jotting down notes about what I’ve been doing so that I can fully set that work aside and come back to it later. Doing a couple of quick yoga poses or pilates exercises. Shutting my eyes for five minutes (making sure to set an alarm!). Queueing up the playlists I’ve created for settling down and amping up. Turning over loose threads to God and asking for awareness and guidance going into whatever is next on the agenda. Taking a lap around the building.

What are the ways you transition from one task or event to the next, or even into and out of your day? Where do you need to build in a couple of minutes on the front and/or back end of your to-dos so that you can fully be you – insightful, compassionate, prophetic, gifted you – as a pastor and a person?

Photo by Suad Kamardeen on Unsplash.

My son last received formal instruction from his school on March 13, meaning first grade effectively ended for him on that day. Five months later, he is about to begin second grade. In that between time his school system, like every other one across the United States, has brainstormed, changed course, planned, and crossed its fingers for the academic year to come. In that time my spouse and I, like many parents across the United States, have wondered, fretted, been faced with impossible choices that we changed our minds about almost daily, and settled uneasily on the best path forward for our family. If you - or the people in your care - are in this situation, here’s a prayer that you’re welcome to use and share. Peace be with you.

God our help in ages past and hope for years to come,

we approach the beginning of this cycle of formal education with all the typical emotions:

excitement, uncertainty, disappointment at the end of summer, grief about the passage of time.

This year, though, that’s not all.

Over this summer the Covid-19 infection rate has trended up.

So schools and school systems have pivoted and planned to the best of their abilities for the education and safety of their students.

So parents have debated the educational options and second-guessed their choices for their children.

So faculty and staff have asked hard, important questions - many of which remain unanswered - about adequate access to cleaning supplies and protocols if someone gets sick.

Now here we are on the precipice, hoping for the best but terrified to send our loved ones into potential outbreak incubators.

It is too much.

It is too much to ask of our educational institutions that they meet so many community needs that kids’ attendance at them becomes essential for some families.

It is too much to ask of parents to give up income and calling to stay home with virtual learners to decrease exposure.

It is too much to ask of faculty and staff to overhaul their teaching approach or risk their lives (and potentially those of their loved ones) for not enough pay or respect.

And so we pray, fervently.

For good health, above all.

For peace with our hard-wrought decisions, whatever they are.

For compassion toward all, recognizing we’re all doing the best we can.

For enough for those scraping by with less income.

For flexibility and resilience, which we’ll all have opportunities to deepen.

For learning, whether or not it’s of the “academic” variety.

For connection across the cloud and across physical distancing restrictions.

For an increased awareness of the struggles of those around us and ways we can safely help one another.

For a long-term commitment to change systems that don’t serve us all equitably.

May we remember that you go with us wherever we go - or don’t go.

May we grow our dependence on you through this time.

And may we yet wrestle a blessing out of this terrible mess, leaving us changed for the better.

We pray these things in the name of the Christ who hurts with us

and by the power of the Spirit who gives us courage.

Amen.

Photo by Vera Davidova on Unsplash.

During this strange season we have witnessed leadership that has helped us feel more ready to face challenges. I have been admiring this kind of leadership in and from you! (We have also felt rage and despair at leadership that passes the buck or exists only for the benefit of those in charge.) Here, in my observation, is what makes someone a true leader:

Great leaders listen. Leadership begins with tuning in - to the voices of others, to data, to the movements of the Spirit, to one’s own deep knowing and misgivings.

Great leaders ask. There are times for certainty, but they are much fewer than we tend to think. Curiosity will usually get us further.

Great leaders encourage. Some people think that threats and shame make those around us work harder. That’s a recipe for sabotage and high turnover, not to mention an approach antithetical to the gospel.

Great leaders equip others. No leader has all the insight and skills needed to promote progress or to clear hurdles. Plus, isn’t it simply fun to see the people around us understand and use their gifts?

Great leaders take appropriate responsibility. They accept credit for what went well while sharing praise with others who contributed. They refrain from shifting blame to others just to make themselves look better.

Great leaders communicate. They get the word out in as many ways as possible, as often as possible, often to the point of feeling like they are grossly overcommunicating. (Rarely, if ever, is overcommunication a thing.)

Great leaders adapt. In a time of accelerating change, leaders must be nimble. They know that pivots aren’t signs of failure but markers of forward thinking and responsiveness.

Great leaders strive to grow. Lifelong learning is the posture of a great leader.

Great leaders care. They care about both the people whose faces they see on a regular basis and those they don’t but whose lives are impacted by their actions.

Great leaders rest. They know the world will keep spinning if they take a nap, and that they will be better able to do all of the above if they tend to their physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health.

Where do you see yourself reflected in these markers of a great leader?

Photo by KOBU Agency on Unsplash.

A few weeks ago I shared my takeaways from Part-Time Is Plenty: Thriving Without Full-Time Clergy, which assures its readers that having a part-time pastoral leader can be a nudge toward greater vitality. I experienced a bit of whiplash when I followed up that read with The Last Pastor: Faithfully Steering a Closing Church. In it retired Episcopal priest Gail Cafferata shares her own experiences along with those of other mainline ministers upon realizing their congregations no longer had the resources to sustain themselves. Some of these clergy knew upon entering these contexts that their primary task was to bring the church to a good end. Most did not, making their journey toward closing more personally difficult.

This is a useful read for any pastor whose church is teetering on the edge of viability. But I think the audience that most needs to internalize the lessons in this book is judicatory leaders. The ministers Cafferata interviewed note time and again how the work of closing the church was made much easier or more difficult based on the posture of the judicatory and the information the judicatory was willing to share. On the negative side of the equation, some judicatory leaders take a “not on my watch” approach that denies churches’ situations until they are too dire or conflicted to end well. (This often results in installing first-call pastors whose enthusiasm for ministry quickly fades with the hard road toward closing and women who find themselves toeing the edge of the glass cliff.) Others pull the rug out, closing churches with little to no input from the pastor or parishioners. A few mock or blame the clergy who are faithfully attempting to lead their congregations through a grief process. All of this abandonment can prompt ministers to question their effectiveness and possibly their call to vocational ministry.

The ministers referenced in the book make it clear that pastors need honesty, partnership, spiritual support from the people charged with the care of districts or regions of churches and their leaders. Clergy also benefit from focused help and positive references from their judicatory leader as they search for their next call, because pastor search teams are sometimes unable to look beyond the fact that the candidate’s last church closed. When congregations and their clergy feel respected and seen, closing is much more likely to be more meaningful for all involved and result in those church members seeking out new faith homes.

Ministers in smaller churches, read this book. More importantly, get it in the hands of those with influence in your judicatory.

Sure, I’m biased. But I believe coaching is more valuable now than ever. Pastors are facing so many new situations for which there is no expert advice. We are all feeling our way along, and coaching can help you think through your gifts, needs, resources, and context so that you create a path that fits you and the people in your care. For example:

Is your church continuing to meet online for the foreseeable future, yet you’re exhausted and not sure how to make this means of ministry sustainable? Coaching can help you think through goals for this time, cull the to-do list down to the tasks that make accomplishing those aims possible, and a make plan for tackling the tasks.

Are you undecided about how to approach the traditional start of the program year in this very untraditional season of social distancing? Coaching can help you tap into your creativity and place this program year in a larger spiritual formation trajectory, making it easier to focus on and get excited about what is most important.

Are you looking for a new call during this pandemic, wondering whether churches are searching for pastors and how a candidate can tell her story well in these changed circumstances? Coaching can help you identify the added opportunities and challenges of being in search & call right now, enabling you to capitalize on the former and manage the latter.

Are you scratching your head (or, let’s be real, panicking) about how to balance supervising your child(ren)’s virtual or blended school while staying faithful to your ministerial role? Coaching can help you name how you want to show up for your family and your church, then make an actionable plan for how to operate that way.

Do you want to explore a new self care strategy since many of your usual outlets are unavailable to you? Coaching can draw out the characteristics that make self care effective for you and broaden your thinking about tactics that meet those criteria.

Has your pastoral position been downsized from full- to part-time because the offering has tailed off during the pandemic? Coaching can help you make the transition to being truly part-time - not just full-time with part-time pay - and to discover additional income streams if needed.

Is the polarization over mask-wearing morphing into political debate in your congregation - with a U.S. presidential election looming - and leaving you caught in the middle? Coaching can help you discern how to self-differentiate so that you can tend well to relationships rather than get hooked by arguments.

Not only can coaching assist in these areas and more, but it is fully customizable to your goals and your schedule. If you had professional development funds earmarked for conferences you can no longer attend, there is no better use of that money than to contract with a coach who can help you navigate all that 2020 is throwing at us. I welcome you to schedule a free discovery call here to learn more about how I approach coaching and to ask any questions you might have.

Photo by Edwin Hooper on Unsplash.

Dear pastors,

We have now hit the halfway mark in this year like no other. Maybe you came into 2020 excited for what was to come. Maybe you were limping along in ministry, battered by conflict or worry about church finances. Whatever your outlook was in January, no one has escaped untouched by the global crises we’re experiencing.

In the past three months you have remained faithful to the gospel and your call, learning how to produce or livestream worship, preach to webcams and empty sanctuaries, reach new constituencies via online platforms, offer pastoral care and spiritual formation from a distance, and manage virtual meetings. You have lost sleep over when and how to re-gather physically as church. You have responded to the disparate calls to re-open immediately and and to keep the doors closed until the rate of infection trends downward, the divide between these groups matching up awfully closely with the boundaries of political camps in our already-charged civic life (in an election year, no less). You have absorbed “feedback” from well-meaning church members who don’t fully know how to operate their own devices or think your home worship space is too cluttered or don’t like how your complexion or clothing show up on camera or don’t think you’re working enough, God forbid. You have wondered how to be church to those who don’t have smartphones or computers. Your head has nearly exploded from all the Zoom gatherings you’ve attended.

You have given up visions for a blow-out Easter Sunday service. You’ve been unable to celebrate fully your beloved graduates. Your summer looks nothing like you expected, whether it’s usually full of camps and mission trips and VBS or characterized by a much-needed slower pace. You’ve seen sabbaticals slip through your fingers. You’ve canceled plans, one detail at a time, for that conference or vacation that you were eagerly anticipating. Some of you have even changed calls in this midst of this mess, unable to get and give hugs to those who’ve ministered alongside you and forced to meet and start to get to know a new congregation through a screen.

You’ve done all this while either living alone and missing real-life human connection or while never getting a blessed moment to yourself, surrounded as you are by a roommate, partner, and/or children working and schooling from home. You’ve done all this while rationing toilet paper and cooking more than you ever have in your life. While, of necessity, discovering or inventing new outlets for self-care. While your primary systems of moral and professional support - other clergy - have been as distracted and weighed down as you are.

You initially thought this would all be inconvenient for a few weeks, then you could get back to normal. But then it became clear that the virus was accelerating, and you had to shift from a sprint to a marathon mindset. And you did, tough as it was. You pivoted again when murderous violence was perpetrated and videoed against several BIPOC* in rapid succession. You saw the moment we were in, the chance to make headway on current iterations of centuries of racism, the opportunity to speak into white silence and have more and bigger conversations about structural inequities. If you are a BIPOC, you heard people debate (again) your experiences and raised your much-needed voice. If you are white, you started or continued work on your own complicity in racial injustice. This is good and needed work - and it does not lessen the stresses and necessities related to pastoral leadership in the time of Covid-19.

Do you recognize how well you have led during this time? I am in awe of you.

Still, you are understandably weary. It is ok - holy, even - to rest.

You are wondering if you are enough. Yes. God equips and empowers us each to maneuver our part of Christ’s body.

You might even be questioning your call to vocational ministry. That is between you and God, but always remember that you - that we all - are called to and gifted for ministry in some form.

Thank you for who you are as a person and pastor. Thank you for what you do. God delights in your faithfulness, your innovation, your tenacity, even as God invites you to tag out for self-care and sabbath.

Blessings be upon you.

Your cheerleader, conversation partner, and admirer,

Laura Stephens-Reed

*The acronym BIPOC might be new to you like it is to me. It stands for Black, Indigenous, and People of Color.

Photo by Kate Macate on Unsplash.

Covid-19 has wreaked havoc on almost every area of our individual and corporate lives. Our resilience, resourcefulness, and relationships have been stretched to their limits as we’ve managed ongoing drastic changes in our professional and personal lives over the past 3+ months. As we’ve been doing all the things and caring for all the people, ministers serving congregations with tenuous finances have wondered how much longer their church budget would support the amount of work they’ve been putting in. (Although, let’s be honest, many ministers were and are already underpaid for the fullness of their efforts.) At this point in an ongoing pandemic, some congregations have had to make tough choices, including cutting back the hours and pay of their minister or eliminating a ministry position entirely.

Are you a clergyperson who finds yourself in this situation? Maybe the amount of work to be done has not changed - nor has your care for your parishioners - but the paid scope of your position has. Or you suddenly find yourself searching for a new call in the midst of Covid-19. These are not easy transitions to manage without help.

I’d like to offer encouragement and partnership to you. During each week in July I am making two one-hour coaching sessions available at no charge to clergy whose positions have been cut or eliminated entirely. You can sign up for one of these sessions here. Together we’ll strategize next steps for making your responsibilities fit your salary or starting the search for a new ministry position. Your leadership is too valuable to the church and world for you to be doing work you’re not paid for or spinning your wheels!

Please share this information with colleagues who could benefit.

We live in a time with many questions and few answers. Wouldn’t it be great to get just a few?

In a webinar I recently attended, presenter Hal Gregersen suggested the way to obtain those answers was to - wait for it - ask more questions. In an exercise he calls “question burst,” he sets a timer for 2 to 5 minutes and invites individuals and teams to name as many queries about their current challenge as possible. Don’t filter, just jot down a question and move on to the next. When time is up, those participating are encouraged to look at their lists of questions. Often a deeper concern to be addressed or a first step forward emerges.

This exercise makes a lot of sense to me. Too often we stop at obvious or surface questions, moving quickly to trying to solve the problem. But because the questions don’t get at the root, the responses don’t actually fix anything. If we just keep asking, though, we’ll start to get somewhere.

Next time you’re facing a challenge or planning a new initiative, take a few minutes to engage in the question burst exercise. You might be surprised by how much more and meaningful progress you’ll make.

Stay curious, my friends.

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash.

As I imagine is true for most coaches, the bulk of my new clients come from current coachees’ outreach to colleagues who might benefit or casual word-of-mouth recommendations. I am very grateful for these referrals! I want to make it easier for people to tell others about the value of coaching and reward their efforts in doing so.

To that end, I have made this referral sheet available in PDF format, and you can click on the image below to save it as a PNG file. It names the people and groups I work with, details my vision for and approach to coaching, differentiates coaching from counseling and spiritual direction (two disciplines that are distinct from but dovetail nicely with coaching), and provides information on how to get started. Page two, should you choose to keep reading, provides some testimonials.

When potential clients sign up for a free discovery call, I ask where they found out about my coaching services. If they name you specifically, you get two free one-hour coaching sessions. If you’re a current coachee, those two sessions get added to the end of your package. If we’re not coaching together right now - and even if we never have! - you get two sessions to use at your convenience. That’s a $200-300 value, because referrals are that important.

Thank you to all who have recommended my coaching in the past, and thanks in advance to those who will. It is a privilege to serve the church and its leaders in this way.

Recently a few different people recommended to me - for different reasons, interestingly - The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. In it Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, one of the world’s leading experts on trauma, explains what happens to us when we are traumatized. We are unable to give complete voice to the experience and integrate it into our self-understanding. It keeps us trapped in vigilance, believing that danger lurks just on the edge of our periphery and prompting out-sized responses to triggers. Over time the trauma rewires our brains and sinks deeply into our bodies, manifesting in a number of conditions that are often diagnosed and treated as separate mental or physical health issues. On a social level, it prevents us from trusting others and deepening relationships. Despite all of this resulting unpleasantness, someone trapped in trauma continually revisits that time when everything changed. It becomes borderline impossible to live in the present, much less envision a different future than the current trajectory.

I am not a doctor or a mental health professional. I also do not want to minimize in any way the experiences of abuse survivors, veterans, and others who live with post-traumatic stress. As someone who works with ministers and congregations, though, I kept thinking this sounds so much like some of our churches as I was reading. We don’t know how to name what our issues are and work through them to integrate them into a coherent narrative. The problems we do see are more symptomatic than root. Conflict simmers just beneath the surface until an incident - often a seemingly benign one - ignites it. Trust is hard to come by. We live in the glory days of how church used to be. We are unable to imagine a different future.

In some cases congregations might be recovering from trauma, such as a serious breach of ethics by the pastor or the sudden death of a key leader or a natural disaster such as a fire or flood that significantly damages the church. In other cases shame might be what we’re seeing the effects of: we once had an ASA of 1,000 and now it’s 100. We haven’t had a new member in years. Church members have left over controversies. We don’t feel relevant.

Whether congregations are experiencing trauma or shame, I believe Dr. van der Kolk offers helpful ways forward:

Address the issue from a place of safety (as much as safety can be guaranteed). People need to know that they are not just seen and heard but also valued, no matter what their experiences. A leader’s first task, then, is to build this kind of culture. This is long, ongoing, and necessary work.

Help people put words to their experiences. A problem that can’t be named can’t be dealt with, but most people can’t be invited into this acknowledgment until they feel safer.

Encourage people to feel what they feel and to be in their bodies. This is not a license to harm others emotionally or physically. It is a mining for the data those feelings and sensations offer.

Together craft a narrative that distinguishes between past, present, and future. There is always more than one true narrative. Which one is most helpful? Which one allows us to move forward with hope and in relationship? In choosing this narrative, individuals and congregations reclaim a sense of agency that they had lost, making it possible to get unstuck.

All of this is easier said than done, of course. But these bigger picture tasks mirror scripture: there is a life-altering chasm between us and God, between us and others. The Bible is about finding away to bridge those divides by examining what isolates us, including what causes alienation within our own selves, so that we can move forward in coherence and connection.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash.

In his 2019 book The Infinite Game, Simon Sinek differentiates between finite and infinite endeavors. In finite tasks the people involved, rules, and ultimate, specific goal are clear. For example, a football game is played between two teams, officiated according to stated and agreed-upon rules on a standardized playing field, and won by the team with the most points when time runs out. Infinite efforts, though, have higher and longer-term stakes. They are framed by values rather than by competition and the most easily-distinguished metrics. They require us to be nimble to the point of pivoting - even at great short-term cost - so that we can better fulfill our higher purpose. Sinek notes that many people fail to recognize when they are in infinite games, instead clinging to the comforts of finite strategies and the illusion of finite goals. This leads them to strategize from scarcity and short-term gains rather than abundance and innovation.

Sinek writes primarily for business and political audiences, but his observations hold true for churches as well. When congregations hold themselves hostage to numbers, primarily attendance and budget, we are playing a finite game. (This is ironic since we worship an eternal God.) We spout the script that “if we can just get more young families in here, we’ll be able to fill the Sunday School rooms and the sanctuary again.” We act as though the numbers are the goal. We believe (whether or not we say so explicitly) that we are competing with neighboring faith communities. But when churches focus on their purpose, on being the church, we are freed up to experiment and partner, discern and learn in order to share Christ’s love in more places and ways.

Right now we are seeing a specific manifestation of the finite vs. infinite mindset in the conversation over re-gathering as church. Finite thinking focuses on the comfort of familiarity (people and ritual) in the near term and the belief that physical presence equals increased giving. Infinite thinking notices that something is happening in the new ways we’ve been doing church the past three months and doesn’t want to shift back too quickly. It prioritizes people and their health over normalcy. It requires courage and even some existential pivoting, presents new challenges and freedom to create.

Is the finite/infinite dichotomy an oversimplification? Yes. (For example, the needs for congregational care and stable finances during the pandemic are real, even as we think about the more outward-focused purpose of church.) If you are wrestling with how to lead in the coming days, though, the tension between finite and infinite thinking might be a reason why. Maybe this framing will help you sift and articulate this and other issues, not just for yourself but also for others.

Photo by freddie marriage on Unsplash.

I have had a few mentors over the seven years that I have been coaching. When I was preparing to apply for my current credential, however, I knew I wanted a clergywoman as my mentor coach. I searched for a while until I found the right person. Janice Lee Fitzgerald listened to my coaching sessions (recorded with coachees’ permission!), helping me hear where I had done things well instinctively and where I had missed opportunities. She pushed me to reflect on how I could - though not necessarily should - approach situations differently. Most of all, she encouraged me to keep plugging along in the credentialing process when I wondered if I was ready to level up. Janice is still my coach, though her role shifted from mentor coach to supervising coach when I was awarded my PCC credential.

Earlier this year I was asked by Coach Approach Ministries to serve as a mentor coach myself for a cohort of emerging coaches. Having grown so much because of Janice’s mentoring, I eagerly agreed. When Janice heard that I had been offered this chance, she enthusiastically supported me and emailed me information on the mentor coach training she’d found so beneficial. (This is often how God speaks to me: through the voices of people I trust and respect inviting me to explore new possibilities.)

I started the Certified Mentor Coach program in March and completed it in late May. It was a fantastic experience, with lots of learning by observing and doing. I mentored, I was mentored, and I was coached by two trainers and four gifted coaches from India, Belgium, China, Spain, and the United States. I was sad when the class was over, and I was more excited than ever about serving as a mentor coach. I had so much fun listening to good coaching and encouraging good coaches.

I am excited to bring this new love of mentor coaching - of supporting and cheering on emerging coaches - to a wider audience. We are in a cultural moment, in the church and around the world, that demands us to make courageous shifts in our being and doing. Coaches can help leaders transition with intentionality and integrity. Mentor coaches provide feedback and reflection space for those coaches so that they can serve their coachees ever more effectively.

If you are interested in learning more about how I approach mentor coaching, you can find more information here. I would love to accompany you on your coaching journey.

In the pastoral model that pops to mind for most Christians in the United States, the minister is a generalist. She preaches, visits, attends meetings in the church and community, and might even repair broken toilets and run the bulletins. That means the clergyperson accompanies people through the valley of the shadow of death and to the tops of mountains, with many mundane pit stops in between.

Right now, though, pastors are not just being asked to care and officiate during all the milestones between the beginning and end of life. They are being forced into making decisions that actually impact life and death. As states and local municipalities begin to re-open, ministers are faced with decisions about physical re-gathering for worship and other church activities. They are reading the Covid-19 statistics, comparing the weekly offering to budget needs, hearing about the congregation down the road re-opening, negotiating tricky conversations about the pandemic that often fall along political lines, and feeling pressure from church members who yearn to be in a familiar space for comforting rituals in a disorienting time. Clergy are doing these things as they continue to preach weekly, check on folks (who have even more emotional needs now) by phone or text, drop into a seemingly-infinite number of Zoom meetings, and record, edit, and upload worship services.

Pastors, for better and worse, are used to wearing a lot of hats. But there are only so many hooks on the rack.

Ministers, be gentle with - and take care of - yourselves. Otherwise, you cannot be the grounded leader your people need. It’s ok to knock some of your hats onto the floor to do this.

Church folks, be gentle with - and take care of - your pastor. I know you cannot see everything your minister is doing right now, because she’s doing most of it from home. But to a person, every clergyperson I’ve talked with over the past two months is working incredibly hard to care for and lead you in new ways. Some of these ways take longer. For many, there’s a learning curve. If you want to complain that your pastor has not set a date for physical re-gathering, please understand that decision is made out of a combination of attention to statistics, careful consideration, and - most importantly - a love for each and every member of your congregation. If you want to delight your pastor, however, reflect on what you’ve learned about your discipleship and your church during the pandemic.

Be well, all.

Photo by JOSHUA COLEMAN on Unsplash.

Guess what? It’s my ordiversary! Eighteen years ago today I was ordained to the Christian ministry by the saints at Oakhurst Baptist Church in Decatur, Georgia. In many ways that occasion feels like a lifetime ago. Since then my vocational journey has taken me through a range of roles, congregations, and even denominations. I am grateful for all of the experiences - even the ones you couldn’t pay me to repeat - that have brought me to the ways in which I now serve as a coach to clergy and congregations. In my coaching I use everything I’ve learned and all the strengths I’ve uncovered and honed.

And so I am choosing to celebrate my ordiversary by releasing my first-ever ebook, which is a guide for churches and leaders on how to dream, discern, and plan out of all that they have to be grateful for. Planning in the Small Church: Focusing on Gifts to Fulfill God’s Call is a quick, practical, and inexpensive (at $2.99) read that draws out all of the individual and collective, tangible and intangible gifts of a congregation and community in order to notice where God is at work and how God might be extending new invitations. The ebook starts with the formation of a team to help the church tell stories and gather data and goes all the way through the first steps in implementing new initiatives. Each step is grounded in worship and best practices.

Planning in the Small Church was written with congregations that have one clergyperson - whether that person is the sole staff member or supervises some part-time employees - in mind. That’s because I believe spiritually rich, deeply creative ministry is possible in those contexts, but there’s no budget (and often no need) for a consultant to come in and lead a visioning process. It’s also because smaller congregations can have a hard time refocusing from what they don’t have to all that they do, largely due to our misguided cultural and denominational defaults that bigger, that more, is better.

I am grateful for my calling. I am thankful for the call extended to you and your congregation as well. I hope Planning in the Small Church will help you celebrate your gifts, train you to notice God glimmers, and enable you to live out of abundance, hope, and joy.

According to a 2018-2019 National Congregations Study, 43% of mainline congregations in the United States do no have a full-time (paid) clergyperson.

43 %.

That’s almost half, and the number is rapidly increasing.

The default perspective is to see a church’s lack of a full-time pastor as a step toward closure. But in the newly-published Part-Time Is Plenty: Thriving Without Full-Time Clergy, UCC minister G. Jeffrey MacDonald makes the case for revitalizing a congregation by distributing the traditional workload of a full-time pastor among part-time clergy and laypeople. Drawing on his own experience as a part-time minister and on research he conducted among various mainline denominations, MacDonald asserts that intentionally claiming this distributed model does not just save a church money. It also allows the pastor to explore other facets of vocation and the laity to reclaim the fullness of the priesthood of all believers, all the while tapping back into a leadership approach that was the norm pre-Industrial Revolution.

For the move to a part-time, paid pastorate to take deep root, MacDonald says that a church must have the courage and creativity to choose it before finances necessitate it. The congregation must develop clear expectations of both staff and members. Laypeople must have access to practical, low-cost training to draw out and build upon their gifts, and pastors must understand how to unleash the strengths of these laypeople. MacDonald calls upon denominational leaders to shift their mindsets from “part-time as a prelude to death” - which is rooted in fear and scarcity - to “part-time as an opportunity for innovation and vitality.” He also urges seminaries to re-think how they offer education, to whom, and at what price tag in order to support a distributed pastorate.

MacDonald’s premise might cause heartburn those of us who trained and planned for a full-time career in ministry - and have the debt to show for it. But for pastors who are looking for a steady (if not lucrative) income that frees them up to parent, create, work in another field, or keep a hand in ministry without burning out or feeling the burden of others’ unrealistic expectations, part-time as plenty might be very good news.

I know. You're Zoomed out, and you have been for a while. And yet, most of these meetings have probably been with rotating groups of people or with fixed groups (such as your staff) for whom you've felt like you've had to show up as your best self. That's exhausting.

I want to offer something different - an ongoing small group with set participants in which you can bring your full self and real concerns and tap more deeply into your innovation and resourcefulness. These cohorts are intended to energize and empower you to lead and live well in our current reality. They will be:

Flexible in focus. The cohort will be geared toward the needs of the participants. (You can note some of those initial needs on the interest form.)

Facilitated to draw out and share your wisdom and strengths. The cohort is designed help you create the actions that will work for you and your context, on which you are the expert.

Intentionally ecumenical. Denominations can be small worlds, making it hard to know how much you can safely share. The cohort will be ecumenical so that you can feel free to be honest and so that you can learn how other denominations approach issues.

Mutually supportive. This cohort will not be a space to compete or call out but a place to encourage, get curious with, and gently challenge one another.

Cohorts will meet twice per month for an hour mid-June through mid-September (6 sessions), with the option to continue after those six sessions. There will be 4-5 participants per cohort, and the total cost will be $150 per participant ($125 for former/current coachees). We will gather by Zoom or Google Meet.

You can indicate your interest on this form, which will be open through June 8. I will then assemble the cohorts and contact participants to schedule meetings at times convenient for them. Once the cohort’s first gathering is set, I will send group information and a PayPal invoice.

Please don't hesitate to contact me with any questions!

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.