Popular church wisdom about filling lay leader positions says that it’s important not just to get the right people on the bus, but also to make sure they’re occupying the right seats. Otherwise, your bus might run off the side of the road.

With the anxiety heightened by all of the events of the past year, some church buses haven’t just gone off the side of the road. They’re teetering on the edge of a cliff. That board chair whose inability to make a decision might frustrate you during normal times, but now that person’s indecisiveness could have public health consequences. That personnel chair whose power plays gave you heartburn before the pandemic might now have you questioning your future in congregational ministry.

Many churches have just completed a cycle of bus seat assignments, but it doesn’t hurt to begin thinking about what qualities you need in key lay leader roles for the next nominations season. Here are a few thoughts to get you started:

All people in key leadership roles:

• Spiritual maturity

• Deep listening

• Ability and willingness to communicate well

Personnel committee chair:

• Trust of the staff and congregation

• Empathy

• Ability and willingness to have hard conversations with compassion

• Generosity

• Consistency

Board/council/deacons chair or clerk of session:

• Trust of the staff and congregation

• Finger on the pulse of the congregation

• Creativity

• Vision

• Meeting facilitation skills

• Ability and willingness to have hard conversations with compassion

• Consistency

Trustee chair

• Sense of church’s physical assets as means of ministry

• Pragmatism

• Generosity

• Open-mindedness

• Ability to think both short- and long-term

Treasurer

• Sense of church’s physical assets as means of ministry

• Financial assessment skills

• Pragmatism

• Problem-solving

• Generosity

• Open-mindedness

• Ability to think both short- and medium-term

Spiritual caregiving team chair

• Compassion

• Equipping skills

This is not an exhaustive list of lay leader roles or qualities, just a jumping-off point. What would you add? How might you begin to cultivate potential leaders with these gifts? How might you help your nominating committee keep an eye out for these characteristics in church members?

Photo by CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Daniel Schludi on Unsplash.

As a child, I was an avid reader. In fact, I read my eyesight into oblivion and required glasses (and later contacts) from second grade on. They would have been Coke bottle thick if not for the compression technology that prevented me from looking like Stephen Root’s character in Office Space.

Reading, then, has been a constant in my life, and it was a great comfort and companion to me last year throughout all the change and challenge. (Thank goodness for e-books during stay-at-home orders!) Here are some of my favorite books that I read:

Fiction

The Testaments by Margaret Atwood. The Handmaid’s Tale was formative for me from the summer I read it by the pool as a teenager, my mother having given me her well-worn copy. The sequel did not disappoint, filling in some of the other characters’ points of view and advancing the story with surprising twists.

Such a Fun Age by Kiley Reid. This the story of a Black young adult woman finding her place and voice in the world among several well-meaning white people who are unable to examine their own bias and condescension (which is to say, it prompted some soul-searching). I highly recommend the audiobook version.

The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett. The author explores race and identity through Black twins who make very different life choices.

Anxious People by Fredrik Backman. This book is a delight, which is unexpected since death and suicide are ongoing themes. It is woven through with grace, humor, quirky characters who capture your heart, and a surprise you won’t see coming.

Non-fiction

The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander. The bulk of this book is a much-needed primer (for me) on the problems - not just for those in prison, but for entire communities and for us all - caused by the War on Drugs and related initiatives. But the background Alexander gives on race relations and the various iterations of slavery over the course of four centuries in America was especially important context for me.

Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation by Kristin Kobes Du Mez. Finally, someone has made it all make sense - how politics, patriarchy, militarism, racism, growing communications capacity, the entertainment industry, and conservative Christianity together have brought us to where we now find ourselves culturally.

White Too Long: The Legacy of White Supremacy in American Christianity by Robert P. Jones. Jones shows how racism is strongly tied to the theology, practice, and roots of the Southern Baptist Convention, among other denominational bodies.

Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle by Emily Nagoski and Amelia Nagoski. The Nagoski sisters explain burnout and its effects and offer practical tips for women - and really all those geared toward helping - to combat it.

The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration by Isabel Wilkerson. I read this as I waited (and still wait) for my turn in the library queue for Caste. I’m glad I did. I knew ridiculously little about how so many southern Black people ended up in other parts of the United States and what kind of welcome they found there. Wilkerson tells this history largely through the stories of three individuals who made the journey north and west.

If Then: How the Simulatics Corporation Invented the Future by Jill Lepore. I have developed a fascination with all things Cold War-era related, but I narrowed this year’s books down to one for this list. Lepore tells of the origins of Big Data, which has had huge repercussions for politics and global conflict, not just advertising.

Ministry-related

Dynamic Discernment: Reason, Emotion, and Power in Change Leadership by Sarah Drummond. Drummond not only gives tools for discerning a new thing but also helps the reader understand burnout and how it comes about, conflict and how to navigate it, and power and how to unearth it.

Part-Time Is Plenty: Thriving Without Full-Time Clergy by G. Jeffrey MacDonald. The church is headed toward more multi-vocational leadership. This book is an exploration of what is possible from someone who embraces part-time pastoring and who has talked to other pastors and churches who flourish under this model.

What were your favorite books that you read last year, and what’s on your bookshelf for this year?

Photo by Susan Yin on Unsplash.

You did it!

You made it through 2020, a year like no other we’ve experienced. Maybe you were like me, staying up until midnight on New Year’s Eve for the first time in years, wanting to make sure the year got on out of here and shedding tears of relief when it did. Maybe you were understandably too tired to care or too convinced that 2021 would just be a second verse, same as the first, since nothing substantial changed overnight on December 31.

However you skidded into 2021, it is upon us. And it’s typical at the outset of a new year to set goals: what are the areas of your life that are within your control and in which you’d like to see progress or change? What are the differences you’d like to see, and what are the steps toward them?

I am a big fan of goals. They are arrows with ropes attached that you aim at targets, and once you’ve lodged your arrow, you can pull yourself forward using the rope. Goals keep us focused and motivated. Goals keep us aligned with our purpose.

There are no minimums or maximums on goal size, though. Your objective might be to get out of bed every morning, or it might be to become president of the United States. Both aspirations have merit. And it’s worth noting that when life is chewing you up, it can feel as impossible to get out of bed as to become Commander in Chief.

So if you are hanging on by your fingertips, more exhausted than you’ve ever been, unsure what the future of your ministry (or ministry period) looks like, bracing for the deaths of beloved people because of the post-holiday Covid surge, dealing with the grumbles of those who are nonetheless clamoring at the church doors for in-person worship, worried about what the election that somehow hasn’t ended yet (in the minds of some) might still bring, jonesing for human connection or waiting on the hot second your kids will return to daycare or school, and staring down the barrel of Lent in just a few weeks, simply surviving mentally and emotionally as well as physically is a real feat and a worthy goal. You don’t have to map out the next three months, much less the next three years. You don’t have to beat yourself up - please don’t! - for not meeting your normal-time standards. You don’t have to possess all the answers.

Really, January 1 is just a day. But the turning of the calendar offers us a reminder that things can be different. We can make positive changes, and one of those might be to let ourselves off the hook a little after ten months of constantly living in crisis leadership mode, which our bodies and spirits were not designed to do. Yes, hold the line where safety is concerned. Fulfill your essential duties (and be honest about which ones really are essential, because they’re fewer than you think). But in other areas, model for your also-exhausted laypeople what it means to take care of the beloved image of God inside the vessel God created for it.

Photo by Moritz Knöringer 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.

On this holiday week, as ever, I am grateful for who you are and what you offer to the world.

Normally, I’d be hard on myself for not composing a new blog post, even on a holiday week. Instead, I decided to practice what I write and link you to a piece I published recently on the CBF blog about setting new standards. I hope it resonates.

May you enjoy a time of reflection and rest this week.

Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash.

I recently posted the thoughts below on my Facebook page. They seemed to strike a chord, so I’m offering them here as well. Lay leaders, judicatory and denominational leaders, and ministers working outside the congregational context, I urge you to share these reflections on behalf of those local church pastors who cannot.

Churchgoers, I know you are tired of this pandemic. I know you want to hug your friends and see their full, unmasked faces on Sunday mornings. I know you are frustrated when your fellow church members start attending services and programs in congregations that are taking fewer precautions. I know you are heartbroken that Advent and Christmas observances won't look the same this year.

Your pastors are feeling all these same things. AND, their personal faith and their call to pastoral leadership are the reasons they are holding the line with - and doing all the additional labor that comes with maintaining - safeguards. You can't see it, but your ministers are working harder than ever. Worship, pastoral care, spiritual formation, and coordination with lay leaders all require many more steps and much more intentionality than in normal times, and pastors are taking these steps because they love you and take their jobs seriously. They have been getting extra creative (and exerting a lot of effort) to help you celebrate the coming season in new, meaningful ways.

Many ministers are feeling like people hired to do the bidding of their church members rather than leaders freed up to fulfill the call of God lately, though. When they get pressure to do things they don't feel are safe, or when they hear that the very people they're trying to protect are complaining that the pastor isn't doing enough, here's what happens. Their anxiety ratchets up. They overfunction or don't know what to do first. They can't sleep. Their health suffers. They question whether serving a congregation is worth all the angst. Any ticket out begins to look really good, and I'm not just talking about another job.

Please, please, please, pray for your ministers. Ask what help they need. Notice to them and to others what they are doing to help your congregation stay connected and encouraged. Join them in innovating. Above all, though, refrain from offering any feedback right now that is not constructive, because I guarantee it will be much more destructive than you intend, to the detriment of your pastor, your church, and the Church.

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash.

It is no secret that I dislike the metrics most commonly used - particularly by judicatories and denominations - to measure a church’s health. Giving and attendance are not only lagging indicators, which show us what has happened rather than give us a sense of what is possible, they are only loosely connected to spiritual growth and showing Christ’s love in the world. Those two things, after all, are what we are to be about as Jesus followers.

And in this time of Covid, these numbers tell us even less. You may have 40 views of your worship service on YouTube, but how many people were watching per device? How engaged were they as they watched? Did they hop on for five minutes or the whole service? What helped them feel most connected to others and to God? Depending on how we interpret online participation in worship, Bible study, meetings, and other gatherings, we can have an inflated or (more likely) a discouraging sense of our church’s and our pastoral leadership’s impact. Feeling like we’re spending all this extra prep time to reach only a few people can have a devastating effect on our sense of efficacy, our proximity to burnout, and even our call to ministry.

Lately I have been working with several coachees on establishing objectives and metrics that do not depend on these minimally-informative numbers. On the objectives side, what could the benefits of your worship service or event be no matter how many people attend? It could be that participants are spiritually nurtured or challenged or that they will have the opportunity to connect with others. It could be that you will have the chance to test out a new idea or approach and get feedback on it, allowing you to improve it for the next time. Metrics might include the takeaways from your offering, which you could ask for in live voices, chat, or comments, or the number of smiles or laughs you notice, or the amount of interaction among participants as opposed to responses just to you.

Notice that all of these examples are within some level of your control as the leader, unlike monetary giving and attendance. They also call for some creativity. Knowing your work matters and having the flexibility to adapt your framing are both essential for moving through this pandemic with your calling intact, which I hope for you, because the church needs your presence and voice!

Photo by pine watt on Unsplash.

Whew! You’ve almost made it through 2020. It has been a year of unexpected challenges, hasn’t it? This has manifested in a number of ways, with just one of them being the inability to go to in-person denominational meetings, conferences, trainings, and retreats. This means that you might have a good bit of money remaining in your professional expense fund, even after you’ve attended all the virtual events and bought all the books.

Every December I offer a “round up” special: I will round the amount left in your professional expense line item up to the next session value. My intent has always been to keep you from leaving any of your hard-earned benefits on the table and to encourage you to invest in your leadership growth for the coming year. I can’t imagine a better time to hit both of these marks. While it’s important to steward your church’s money well in these uncertain times, it’s also essential to use your available resources to prepare to pastor in a rapidly-changing world. Coaching is a great way to do that, because it

• is done remotely,

• takes place at your pace and on your schedule,

• is geared toward reframing your situation in helpful ways,

• helps you make positive steps forward, and

• can be completely customized to your goals, leadership style, and context.

If you are looking to make progress in such areas as

• finding a good oscillation between caring for others and caring for yourself,

• developing and grounding yourself in your pastoral identity when others are projecting their anxieties about the state of the world on you,

• searching for a new call and/or leaving your current one well under the restraints imposed by Covid-19,

• helping your church members engage well among themselves and in the community when there is no end to the pandemic in sight, or

• addressing conflict that is even trickier when those involved are unable to gather in person for conversation,

coaching can help.

The round-up special is valid in December only. Contact me or schedule a free exploratory call by December 30 to take advantage of this offer.

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.

A significant slice of my coaching involves working with clergy in search and call. Some of these coachees are just beginning to think about exploring other possibilities while others have already begun interviewing. Almost all of them experience anxiety, though, when it comes to the compensation negotiation part of the process. Is what I’ve been offered fair based on my experience and skills, the responsibilities of the position, the church’s budget, and the cost of living in the area? What changes is it appropriate to ask for in a counter-offer? How do I go about making these requests?

It’s hard for candidates to answer these questions in a vacuum. That’s why I am adding a new service: a one-off, one-hour coaching session that provides candidates with:

• a larger context for what fair compensation looks like based on my work with clergy and congregations,

• questions to help the candidate name the aspects and amounts of compensation that they deserve and that churches can sustainably offer, and

• coaching and encouragement around the negotiation process.

Candidates should be prepared to bring into the call information they have available about the church with which they are negotiating, such as budget/financial trends, previous pastor’s compensation, the availability of church-owned housing, and church or judicatory policies around various kinds of leave, salary recommendations/requirements, and other benefits.

Working toward fair compensation offers a candidate the opportunity to begin showing up as a pastoral leader during the end of the search process and allows the newly-called pastor to square away practical concerns, thus enabling her to turn her focus more fully to the work ahead. And in the longer view, pastors who are paid what they are worth are more likely to feel valued and as a result stick around longer, leading to fruitful mutual ministry.

If you are interested in this service, you can find the current rate here (see “base rate per session” at the top of the page) and schedule your coaching session here.

As a kid learning to love basketball as Michael Jordan was emerging as an NBA superstar, I was curious about the Netflix docuseries covering his final season with the Chicago Bulls. I found several aspects of the series fascinating: Jordan’s exaggerated sense of competition, his rise as a cultural icon, his role in making individual endorsement deals as a team sport star commonplace. (By the way, did you know Nike was a small company specializing in track shoes until Jordan signed a deal with it straight out of UNC? I didn’t.)

But it was a quote from a journalist in the last episode that really grabbed me:

“Most people struggle to be present. People go and sit in ashrams in India for twenty years, trying to be present. Do yoga, meditate, trying to get here, now. Most people live in fear because we project the past into the future. Michael is a mystic. He was never anywhere else. His gift was not that he could jump high, run fast, shoot a basketball. His gift was that he was completely present, and that was the separator.”

— Mark Vancil, quoted in the Netflix series "The Last Dance," episode X.

Michael Jordan’s gift wasn’t his athleticism, it was his ability to be present.

That’s quite a statement. It’s also a ray of hope to me. I’ll never have great physical gifts. I’m a decent preacher, but no one will ever call me the GOAT. Sometimes I’m slow to respond in conversation. But being present? That’s something that I - that you - can conceivably do. That’s the real gift, and it’s available to us.

Sure enough, being present is especially tough right now when the demands are greater and our roles overlap in messy ways. That’s also why it’s even more important. If we can be where we are, if we can be with the people around us, if we can stay in the present without worrying about how our leadership will be received or obsessing about what our choices are doing to our loved ones, not only will this time be more bearable, it will also make us better pastors, parents, friends, and citizens.

What do you need in order to be deeply present? Keep it simple: a deep breath, a focusing verse of scripture or image, a ritual that helps you transition from one mode or task to the next.

I wonder what incredible, relational things we might be capable of if we leaned into this superpower.

Photo by Eilis Garvey on Unsplash.

It’s election day here in the U.S., God.

My head knows that you are at work in whatever happens.

But if I’m honest,

my heart is sick with worry about what the returns might bring.

My faith is not in vote tallies,

but they don’t just tell us who will hold office,

they reflect the lived values of our country.

My hope does not rest in institutions or leaders,

but both have the power to make decisions that lead to great good and great harm.

And this election in particular…it feels different.

The battle lines are sharp and thick.

We’ve all been army crawling through the past eight months.

The past four years have felt like the plot line of a YA dystopian novel.

While my heels rest on solid ground,

my toes wiggle over a precipice.

Help.

Send your Spirit of clarity to allow me - us - to assess the situation fully.

Send your Spirit of courage to gird us up to respond as needed.

Send your Spirit of compassion to bind us together in service to the good of all.

Send your Spirit of peace to ground us in what is eternal rather than in the anxiety of the moment.

May we be your people

just as you are our God,

now and forever.

Amen.

Photo by Tiffany Tertipes 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.

October is Pastor Appreciation Month. It’s probably a holiday made up to sell more greeting cards, but I’m going with it. You really you deserve gratitude year-round, though. That’s every year, and even more so in the flaming heap that is 2020. Here is what I’ve seen from you in the midst of pandemic, a civil rights movement, a grueling election cycle, and more:

Responsiveness. Not safe to gather at church? You took church virtual. Protests flare up over the murders of our siblings of color? You put on a mask and marched or donated to grassroots organizations that promote equity or led anti-racism studies in your congregations. People’s basic rights are at stake? You spoke hard truths, even when some called you “too political.” Social safety nets are crumbling? You made space in your churches for virtual learners or picked up food distribution to those in need.

Resilience. Many of you are working harder and longer than you ever have - and you were by no means slackers before - even though this work is largely invisible unless it doesn’t get done. You’ve realized much as a result about your gifts, your call, and your limits.

Innovation. You created new systems for worship, spiritual formation, pastoral care, and connection among church members. You’ve gleaned what is possible and what will be essential in a world where Covid-19 is more controlled.

Flexibility. Let’s face it. There has been, of necessity, a lot of trial and error over the past several months. Great! You’ve tried things, learned, and adapted or let go of what wasn’t working. That’s a healthy model for our congregations, many of which are hesitant to end any ministry, no matter how past its prime.

Love for your people. You’ve called. You’ve written. You’ve made porch visits. You’ve dropped off goodies. You have grieved not being able to see your congregation in person and to give hugs, handshakes, and fist bumps. You have been devastated when you couldn’t be with members as they were dying.

I am in awe of you.

And I want things for you:

Permission not to do all the things. Maybe this permission needs to come from your lay leaders or head of staff. Maybe it needs to come from within. Even though you are doing amazing ministry, you are not what you do. You are a beloved child of God, called and equipped for ministry and deserving of time and energy to care for the image of God within.

A sustainable rhythm. The pace you’ve been working at was borne of crisis. We have since realized that the emergencies of the past several months were not short-term. Covid will be with us for a while. The journey to justice is long. The US presidential election is likely to stir the pot more than cool it off. If you had known in March what was coming, how would you have approached it? How might you work with your leaders to shift into that gear now?

Recognition from your congregation. Some churches realize they are so fortunate to have their pastors. Others are beating their clergy to a bloody pulp out of their misplaced anxiety. I pray literally every night that your congregation takes as much care of you as you do of them.

Glimmers of normal. Maybe it’s a Bible study that meets outside, socially-distanced. Maybe it’s having a few people in the sanctuary when you preach. Maybe it’s getting a Covid test so that you can visit family or friends with a clear conscience. Whatever glimpse you need of the way things used to be in ministry and in life, I hope you find it.

People beyond your church to love and be loved by. These people might be sheltering at home with you. They might live far away, reachable now only by card, phone, or video call. Whatever the case, remember that there is life and care beyond the bounds of your work and that there are spaces where you can simply be a human, not a SuperPastor.

God, thank you for these pastors. Give them courage, creativity, support, and rest. We need them now more than ever. Amen.

[If this post resonated, you might want to check out Dear Pastors.]

I was seven years old when Daniel LaRusso landed the crane kick on Johnny Lawrence that felled martial arts powerhouse (and bully factory) Cobra Kai in the All Valley Tournament. The Karate Kid was the ultimate underdog story. Scrawny new kid in town, tormented by the Cobra Kai clique and their sadistic sensei, gets taken underwing by a wise karate master and wins his way to an unlikely championship despite injury.

Though there were later movies in the franchise, none matched the entertainment value or emotional impact of the first iteration. I was thus amused when YouTube dipped a toe into original programming with the development of Cobra Kai, a kind of “where are they now?” tv series based on the characters. Several weeks ago the first two seasons moved over to Netflix, and I was no longer amused. I was 100% sucked in. It hit all the right notes for fans of the original movie. Interestingly, though, it did so in completely different ways than the film.

The church has been in the pangs of change for a while, now accelerated by Covid-19 and the creativity the virus has demanded. I think Cobra Kai speaks to the ways in which the church can be in the process of taking tradition into account while becoming something new.

Strike a balance between nostalgia and innovation. The backstory of Cobra Kai is familiar, as are much of the soundtrack and many of the pop culture references. But instead of going heavy on the drama, Cobra Kai leans into the humor of two adult men reliving their teen rivalry. For the church to become something new, it will have to decide what essentials it wants to carry forward and what note it wants to strike, then be willing to experiment with everything else.

Look for ways to reach multiple generations. One of the reasons Cobra Kai works is because it’s a multi-generational story. The Daniel-Johnny storyline speaks to Gen Xers, while the budding conflict among their children and students is relatable for younger audiences. Churches can no longer cater primarily to a single generation just because they pay the bills.

Resist the temptation to make anyone one-dimensional. In The Karate Kid, the director clearly wanted audiences to root for Daniel. But in Cobra Kai, we hear Johnny’s interpretation of the conflict and see him interact compassionately (in his own way) with his proteges. We see how Daniel’s obsession with Cobra Kai negatively affects his marriage and his professional life. Neither character is easily categorized. In church we are too eager to pigeonhole people inside and outside the walls and limit the range of perspectives we’re willing to consider. That’s not just a turnoff for many (particularly younger) people, it’s also a denial of the grace that is key to our faith.

Don’t ignore the outside world. Johnny is a technophobe, but he (and the showrunners, who depend on streaming to reach audiences) gradually understands the need for smartphones and social media. Churches, put a hashbrown on your services and announcements and send them to the internet!

Don’t take yourself too seriously. I imagine the showrunners and actors wondered what reaction a comedic series based on a classic drama would garner. It could have backfired, but they made the gamble. Church leaders, spiritual growth is serious business. That doesn’t mean church has to be serious all the time. Take risks, and create space for joy in the process. People will notice and want to join you.

Make room for people’s growth. In the first episode of Cobra Kai, Johnny is a borderline alcoholic whose temper costs him his job. He spends his evenings watching Iron Eagle in a sparsely-furnished apartment with a six-pack of Coors Banquet. He cares for no one beyond himself, except for his son, whom he has pushed away with this absence. We see Johnny grow, though, as he builds up a dojo full of picked-on kids that he at first mocks but becomes protective of. The show doesn’t work without this arc. The church of tomorrow must support newcomers and long-timers in their development as disciples. Otherwise, what are we here for?

Don’t worry about what the other guy is doing. Daniel, Johnny, and their students’ constant tracking of what the opponent is doing and trying to one-up is what leads to the trainwreck at the end of season two. This despite the fact that the two dojos have very different approaches to martial arts and that there’s room in a big city for both. Church, you do you, not the congregation down the street with a totally different DNA.

Oh, and if you need a bit of self-comfort after this cruel summer, look for Cobra Kai on Netflix.

Photo by Charlein Gracia on Unsplash.

God who designed a variety of seasons,

I’ll confess: fall is my favorite.

I celebrate the break in the heat.

I relish hearing college football in the background on Saturdays.

I swoon at the smells of chili and cinnamon.

I delight in scooping out pumpkin guts and carving jack-o-lanterns.

I eagerly await seeing kids in costumes.

I stockpile Reese’s and Peppermint Patties at day-after-Halloween sales.

I feel swaddled by the lengthening nights.

Thank you, thank you God, for fall.

Not all that I love about this season is possible this year. I get it.

So I think I’ll pray for a different kind of fall,

one that will really be memorable

and make all the seasons better.

I pray for the fall of White supremacy, in which people who look like me benefit from individual and systemic discrimination against people with Black and Brown skin.

I pray for the fall of the patriarchy, in which women’s options and pay are inversely proportional to the expectations put upon them.

I pray for the fall of fascism, in which suppression and intolerance snuff out the beauty of diversity and creativity.

I pray for the fall of greed, in which those who already have much try to grab up even more at the expense of others.

May these leaves fall to the ground, be gathered up, and burned so that beautiful, equitable life might sprout in their place.

Who knows? When that happens, spring might be my new favorite.

Amen.

Photo by Patrick Tomasso on Unsplash.

It was not always a given that I’d become a mom. After eight years of marriage, my spouse and I still shrugged at each other every time one of us brought up the topic of parenthood. That is, until God dropped a vision-bomb of me setting down a toddler, who then ran so gleefully to a man - my husband - that the parent-child connection was obvious.

It was almost two years until that child I’d seen in my mind was born. As an interim minister, I was between calls, but I knew I’d want to work again soon. The kind of position I was looking for was different than pre-baby, though. I wanted to go part-time while Levi was so young, and I needed a congregational context that would welcome his presence rather than resent it. (In fact, I turned down one job offer when it seemed the senior pastor didn’t really want my kid around.) I hit the jackpot, accepting the call to be minister to youth at a church I had previously served as interim associate minister. The search team chair bent over backwards to make the situation work for Levi and me. She found us a spot at the church’s early childhood ministry for the days that I worked. She arranged for childcare on Sunday evenings when I would be leading youth group. The senior minister and my immediate supervisor, the associate minister who followed my interim, were also generous with their support.

I loved that I could utilize my gifts as minister while my baby was across the hall from my office, being cared for by people who adored him. I loved that his teachers could ask me questions or grab me about concerns at any time. I loved that when he refused to take a nap in room full of active babies (the FOMO has always been strong with this one), I could lay him down in my office, turn off the lights, and work by computer monitor light while he slept. Sunday mornings, though, were my favorite. Since I served a Disciples of Christ congregation, there was communion every week. As youth minister I rarely presided at the table, so I slipped out the back of the sanctuary, picked Levi up from the nursery, and joined the end of the communion line. At first I carried him facing out in a wrap, his smile and others’ big as we walked down the aisle. As he began to walk, he teeter-tottered forward, and people on the end of the pews clutched their chests in joy. In front of the communion table, he regularly heard that the bread and juice meant that Jesus loved him.

It was a gift for both of us to spend two years in an environment that supported my ministry and nurtured my budding parental identity and my son’s faith development. It reinforced for me that I was called both to ministry and motherhood, and that in the right context, I could do both imperfectly but well. I believe - hope - that our presence also reassured the congregation of the same to the benefit of other clergywomen who might serve there.

Above all, though, I gained insight into who God is as holy parent. God does not compartmentalize when it comes to Jesus - God is Creator/Sustainer/Redeemer of all humankind as well as Jesus’ own parent at all times, even when the overlap gets messy. God wishes to affirm all the parts of us as well. That is part of what it means to be made whole.

As I transitioned from ministry in the congregation to the ministry of clergy coaching, making space for my two calls has been the priority. As Levi got older and started school, I started to divide up my life into work and family tracks. During the pandemic, those lines have slowly been erased. I’ll admit - it was rough at first. It’s still hard sometimes. But once we found our groove, I remembered how wonderful it was to be able to snuggle my baby (now 7 years old) anytime during the day while still living fully into my pastoral call. Thanks be to God for the chance to pastor and parent.

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This post is part of the book launch blog tour for Embodied: Clergy Women and the Solidarity of a Mothering God. Embodied includes reflection questions at the end of each chapter, to instigate conversations that lead to support and new perspectives. The book is available this September from Bookshop.org, Amazon, or Cokesbury.  Check out all the stops on the blog tour, and buy the book!

I treasure my ecumenical work. I have learned so much from serving in Disciples of Christ, PCUSA, and United Methodist settings and from working with pastors and churches in at least twelve denominations. My primary identity, however, is as a Baptist. I grew up in Southern Baptist churches, at first because there was no Alliance of Baptists or Cooperative Baptist Fellowship. I was a senior in college before I learned that I had those options. (I wasn’t convinced, though, that I wanted to take them until I started attending an Alliance/CBF church full of the inclusive Baptists I aspired - and still aspire - to be.)

If you’ve grown up in the Baptist world or any other evangelical tradition, you know that the emphasis on a personal relationship with Jesus Christ is strong. That’s what preaching and spiritual formation are primarily geared toward, and the altar call is the culmination of any worship service. Now don’t get me wrong - loving Jesus and spending time with him is a crucial aspect of my faith. But it wasn’t until I attended Candler, a seminary in the United Methodist/mainline Protestant tradition, that I heard of social holiness. It turns out that Jesus isn’t just a good guy to hang out with and that salvation isn’t just about our baptism or private prayer practices. It’s also about living like Jesus and advocating for his values at the systemic as well as the interpersonal level.

In his book White Too Long: The Legacy of White Supremacy in American Christianity, Robert P. Jones makes the case that American evangelicals’ laser focus on personal salvation is not simply a matter or polity or theological difference from other Christian expressions. It in fact propped up slavery - the Southern Baptist Convention, for example, was formed out of a commitment to slaveholding - and still undergirds racism in insidious ways. Among other problems, this individual focus blurs vision of the larger cultural landscape and allows believers to shed responsibility for working for equity too easily. (Jones notes that mainline Protestants and Catholics are not immune to the mutual reinforcement of theology and racism either. In fact, Jones’ research shows that holding white supremacist attitudes and church attendance parallel each other across all varieties of white American Christendom.)

There’s a lot of theological reflection and repentance - meaning sustained action, not just a quick reach for forgiveness - required for the ways that American Christianity and white supremacy have become so intertwined. In particular, Jones’ book helped me understand why so many Christians leaders I know have been left scratching their heads about their inability to diversify their congregations. There are not simply differences in ritual or worship style or service length, as have long been held up as the reasons that Sunday morning at 11:00 remains the most segregated hour of the week. The very roots of our theology are preventing white people from fellowshipping with and learning alongside people of color. How do our core beliefs let our BIPOC siblings know they are right to keep us at arms’ length? How much work are we willing to put in to examine ourselves and make amends? It won’t be easy. After all, we’ve been white too long as the book title (taken from a James Baldwin quote) says. But if we love Jesus like we say we do, it’s time for us to roll up our sleeves.

There are many ways I could describe the past six months, but I’m going with “revealing.” The pandemic has clarified systemic issues related to a broken healthcare system, racial inequities, lack of leadership at almost every level (governmental and denominational), and inefficient infrastructure for responding to crises. Specifically, though, I am thinking about how all the shifts prompted by Covid-19 have uncovered how unsustainable ministry is for so many pastors in their current contexts.

Prior to the pandemic, a significant number of my clergy coachees and colleagues were working under unrealistic expectations, whether those came from their congregations or from their own internal “shoulds.” And then, mid-Lent, they had to change the ways they did nearly everything - and fast. They became not just preachers but tech experts with all that entails: recording, editing, sound mixing, lighting, inviting people to and teaching them how to participate in and managing online meetings, exploring the most accessible social media platforms, and monitoring cyber security. They spent many hours trying to get all of this right because worship and Bible study and fellowship are so critical, not knowing that they’d have to continue all that they started beyond a few weeks, often without much help from others. (Because, again, the shutdown was supposed to be temporary, so why ask for assistance from others dealing with their own altered realties?)

Now not only do many ministers’ jobs look very different than what they were before mid-March, but they may no longer align with these leaders’ senses of giftedness and call. They are doing work they did not sign up for, or at least work they didn’t particularly love has increased while the aspects that energized them have all but evaporated. And there is no end in sight to these changes, both because Covid-19 continues to spread and because pastors know that they’ll have to keep up at least some of their new tasks once churches re-gather to accommodate constituents who’ve found virtual connection works better for them.

In addition, ministers lost their best means of not just keeping tabs on how their church members were doing but also getting any kind of encouraging feedback, namely seeing faces in the pews during worship and interacting informally with folks on Sunday mornings. This loss made communication, pastoral care, and decision-making infinitely harder. Everything started to take more time, more intentionality, more energy. This, while many clergy have also been caring for and schooling children whose schools and daycares closed and whose other caregivers have had to isolate to protect their own health.

In return for all the extra effort, many pastors have received mostly anxiety and negativity in return. Part of this is because everyone is struggling, and church is an easy place for people to project discontent. (What’s your pastor going to do if you get mad? She can’t fire you, refuse to work with you, or give you a bad grade.) Part of this is the polarization in our culture, which has morphed public health measures like closing buildings and wearing masks into political landmines during a presidential election cycle. And part is simply that church members simply don’t know all that their leaders are doing since everyone is isolated in their homes.

The effects of all these difficulties are taking their toll. They have deepened pre-existing fault lines and created new ones such that clergy who already had some sense of discontent now have one foot out the door, and some who were very happy are seriously questioning whether their current context is still a good fit. The result, I predict, is going to be a tidal wave of pastoral departures once churches re-gather, and maybe sooner depending on how long the pandemic rages on. Clergy who have been hurt by accusing questions like, “What are you doing all day?” or “Why can’t we meet?” or “Why didn’t you do X (or call Y)?” “Are you really going to make me wear a mask?” are going to have trouble forgetting and will look for fresh starts elsewhere. Some lead clergy who have caught a lot of heat might want to step into positions, such as associate roles, where they aren’t the point person. Others are just going to feel chewed up and spat out and choose to leave the ministry altogether.

Church folks, this time is hard for everyone. It’s hard for you, certainly. And it’s hard for your pastor. If you want to keep your pastor after Covid-19 becomes more manageable, here are some suggestions to help ease your minister’s stress during the pandemic:

• Check on your pastor. Many clergy don’t have anyone outside of their family to ask how they are and to listen to the answer.

• If you have the bandwidth, ask how you can help. As mentioned above, ministers took an unsustainable amount of work on themselves early in the pandemic because it was easier in the short term, they didn’t want to bother others who were struggling, and they didn’t know they’d be doing all the extra tasks six months later.

• Speak well about your pastor to others. If other church members talk disparagingly about what they think the minister is or isn’t doing, reply with your belief that she is working hard and, like all of us, doing the best she can.

• If someone mentions a specific pastoral care need to you, urge that person to contact the pastor. She wants to know so that she can respond!

• Engage bigger questions with fellow church members. What are we learning about our church or our community during this time? What do we need to keep or stop doing as a result? If you can think beyond the moment and help others do so, your pastor will be so grateful.

• Send your minister an encouraging card, text, or email. Name specific things you see her doing that you appreciate. This noticing goes a long way in helping a pastor feel valued.

It’s normal for clergy to depart in the wake of an acute event like a disaster. It isn’t inevitable, though. People in the (virtual) pews can attempt to stem the tidal wave simply by being supportive and encouraging others to do so. Even if your pastor eventually leaves, she will treasure the affirmation, and your church will have established patterns for loving your next leader well.

Photo by Max McKinnon on Unsplash.