We all need to take time to tend to ourselves. This is not being selfish. It is being practical (humans require regular down time and maintenance), and it is being faithful (God did not make us to go without stopping until we break).

The term self-care has become so all-encompassing as to become almost meaningless, however, without carving out some smaller categories under that rather large umbrella. Here are some kinds of self-care that I think we all need in varying amounts:

Escaping. Sometimes we simply cannot deal or are so tired that we need to withdraw until we recover, though I’d add we probably require less of this kind of self-care through passive consumption than we think. This is a good time to read a novel or binge tv shows on our favorite streaming service. (Note that I do not advocate numbing through substances.)

Tending to health. We are worth taking care of our bodies, minds, and souls. We deserve to be treated by professionals who see and value us and want to help us live well. Seeking out doctors and therapists and spiritual companions can be hard because we feel fear or shame, because good care options are hard to access or pay for, and because it can take big chunks of time, but it also feeds all other forms of self-care.

Completing the stress cycle. In their book Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle, Amelia Nagoski and Emily Nagoski talk about how stress lingers beyond the stressful situation if we do not go all the way through the feeling once we’re in a safe place. Often we need a physical action to help with this, like punching a pillow, yelling at the top of our lungs, or dancing it out.

Having fun. Screen/life balance expert Catherine Price encourages us to play more in her book The Power of Fun: How to Feel Alive Again. She identifies three characteristics of True Fun, which are playfulness (no judging self or others), connection (with God, people, or the environment), and flow (being fully present and engaged). I think we all need a lot more of this kind of self-care than we usually get.

Intentionally doing nothing. Brene Brown talks about no-agenda, non-doing time in which we simply allow ourselves to be. We’re not trying to produce. We are simply giving all aspects of our being a break so that we can return to ourselves, trusting the world to go on while we’re not doing something to fix it.

What other self-care categories would you add to these? Which kind of self-care do you need most right now? How might you get it?

Photo by Max van den Oetelaar on Unsplash.

Lately I have heard many variations of one question: what does sustainability in ministry - in anything - look like in this weird, hard time? It’s a great question. Thriving might feel out of reach right now for those who are really struggling. (By the way, it’s ok to struggle. We all do sometimes!) But maybe we can reasonably aspire to durability until the possibility of flourishing breaks the plain of our horizon.

Here are some thoughts about what we might be able to say if we are locked into sustainability:

I am not in this alone. I have people. People to minister alongside, peers in ministry I can be honest and strategize with, loved ones beyond my work context who welcome my entire self.

I/we have the means to figure this out. Our world is serving up a lot of sticky wickets. But neither is the challenge too high nor my/our talents too negligible to deal with what is before me/us, even if there’s a lot of trial and error involved.

I can take a break without the world crashing down around me. I know that everything is not riding on me - or that if it is, I and those around me could use a lived reminder that that’s not healthy.

I am good (and so are others). Not perfect, mind you, but fearfully and wonderfully made and deeply loved just as I am by God.

I see glimmers of where I/we are making an impact. I am not just shouting into the void - at least not all of the time. I am helping some people feel seen and be connected to God and one another, and I am planting other seeds that might bear fruit I never know of.

I can laugh - and laugh about more than just the absurdity of things. There is delight in my world through the things I take in via my senses and through the people I encounter.

I am using my gifts, even if it’s not in the ways I expected. Who knew that this talent could be put to that use? Well, now I do.

I have room to maneuver. I can’t control everything, as much as I’d like to be able to. But there are some areas where I can and do exercise some agency.

I might not be the biggest fan of this season of life/ministry, but it is only a season. I know things won’t be this hard forever.

I notice and respond kindly to what my body is telling me. I need sleep. I need food. I need a brain break. I need an appointment with my doctor or therapist. Our bodies are our wonderfully made to give us the information we require to take care of them - and they are so very worthy of that tending.

I am growing in my sense of who I am and what I can do. There is some sense of wonder: “could it be that I am here for such a time as this?” This time might not be my first choice, but it is the time I have.

Which of these statements apply to you? What are some tweaks you could make to grow into the ones that don’t? What statements would you add to or take away from this list?

Photo by Appolinary Kalashnikova on Unsplash.

Here’s something that most ministers don’t know until they experience it: leaving a church is HARD WORK. Yes, there are all the hours spent compiling your materials, researching congregations and communities, interviewing for a new position, and being evasive about where you were when you preached in view of a call. Yes, there’s the energy directed to putting what’s only in your head down on paper and straightening your office for the next occupant. But what I’m really talking about is the emotional component of leaving. No one warns you about all the feels you might encounter.

You might feel guilty. Every congregant has a different reaction to a pastor’s departure. And many of your congregants, particularly the ones you know best or have worked most closely with, might project those feelings onto you. The spoken or unspoken messages could include “What did we do wrong?” and “How could you do this to us?” and “What will we do without you?” This anxiety is normal, and your people will be ok. They are experiencing a loss, and they need time to grieve.

You might feel relieved. All those aspects of your job that you liked least? (We all have them.) There’s now an end in sight for them, at least in this context.

You might feel ready to go. Once you have turned your face toward your next call, it is really hard to stay engaged in the last weeks of your current one. You are excited about what is ahead, and there are a million details unrelated to your old position to address.

You will feel exhausted. As I said, leaving is hard work. That’s partly because of the scramble to wrap up loose ends, but it’s primarily because of the feelings mentioned above.

You might feel grateful. Depending on the circumstances of your departure, your appreciation for the church you’re leaving might be muted or delayed. But you have no doubt learned valuable lessons and developed relationships that have formed or encouraged you. That’s worth celebrating at some point.

Oof. That’s a lot, and it’s important to give yourself space to deal with all the emotions. As you do, it’s ok if not every detail makes it into the cloud for your successor. It’s ok if you leave work early to run or take a nap. It’s ok to feel what you feel, whatever that is. More than anything else, it’s important to focus on people as you wrap up your time - including yourself, because you are a people too - because that’s what those you’re leaving behind will remember most.

Photo by annie pm on Unsplash.

On this day two years ago, I attended my last in-person Sunday morning worship service. It was a surreal event. Only a handful of people were there, and we acted like kids worried about catching cooties from one another. My spouse (the pastor) was trying to figure out how to angle his phone for Facebook Live, something he had never experimented with before. After worship our family of three hustled home and didn't re-emerge for weeks, only doing so once we realized that Covid was not a blip and we’d have to get groceries at some point.

In some ways the start of the pandemic feels like a decade ago. The degrees of isolation and the ebb and flow of the virus have stretched out the time, plus we have learned more about Covid and ways to neutralize it than seems possible in such a short span. In other respects, though, the beginning of lockdown feels very fresh. Anniversaries - I would like to find another word for a somber annual remembrance, by the way - can make objects in the rearview mirror appear closer than they are. The sense memories enfold us and transport us to the states of mind, body, and spirit prompted by the original experience. (“On this day” reminders on social media and in our photo apps only enhance this effect.) For me that means high anxiety born of uncertainty, which manifests as body tension and mental and physical fatigue. Your reactions might be similar or altogether different, but you aren’t alone if you notice something in your being at this two-year mark that isn’t quite explained by current circumstances.

We’re holding a mixed bag as we come to this past-present mingling. We are in Lent, one of those marathon stretches in the liturgical calendar for pastors. This season both gives us a helpful focus and lengthens our to-do lists. We seem to be in a new, more hopeful phase of the pandemic. This reality brings increased possibilities for gathering and can also prompt foreboding joy: When is the next variant coming? What does the decreased attention to virus precautions mean for the big questions we’ve not had space to reckon with but now need to address? And while there is no declared war on American soil, we worry for those facing aggression in other regions of the world, bound to them as we are by our common humanity.

I name all of this to encourage you to be gentle with yourself. Acknowledge your limits. Leave things undone when needed. Take naps. Eat good food, however you define it. Move your body. Spend time with people you love. Do “unproductive” things that delight you. Look for beauty. Along the way don’t forget to keep your eyes peeled for God working - or modeling rest! - in the margins, the crevices, the cracks of daylight offered by a slightly opened door.

Remember that while memories can crash the present and the future is always on our minds, life happens in real time. Be there for it all, the hard and the holy, knowing sometimes there is little distinction between the two.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash.

Few pastors are carrying out their same position in the ways they did in February 2020. But most associate pastors and ministers of particular demographics or specialized areas aren’t doing their same job, period. At some point during Covid, Ministers of Youth became Ministers of YouthAndChildren. Ministers of Music morphed into Ministers of MusicAndSeniorAdults. Ministers of Missions transformed into Ministers of MissionsAndFacilitiesAndWeekdaySchool. You get the idea.

There are several reasons this melding of roles happened. The pandemic prompted or hastened staff transitions. Congregations’ pre-existing financial anxieties ramped up when there was no in-person worship during which the plate could be passed. (Those worries increased even more when members failed to show back up as the sanctuary doors reopened.) And when Covid turned out to be more state of suspended animation than blip, it was hard for churches to shift into a forward-moving gear. All of this translated into congregations’ desire to operate with what they knew, and what they knew was that they had capable, committed people on staff.

And these capable, committed people said yes to whatever was handed to them. Maybe they said yes because they wanted to do all they could to minister to their people during a tough time. Maybe it was because they wanted to stretch themselves. Maybe it was because they were already steeped in macro and micro cultures of workaholism. Maybe it was because they felt like they had no room to say no, because they were not in charge.

Now, though, many of these Ministers of AllTheThings are wrung out. This is a problem, because some of them are in their first call and wondering if congregational work will be like this always and everywhere. Some of them don’t have the emotional and financial support they need, whether in the congregation or beyond it, to build more sustainable patterns. Some of them are asking themselves whether their position(s) will survive the next budget cut anyway, and as a result they are actively searching job postings.

Solo or senior pastors, for all the struggles they have endured during Covid (and these are legion), have had some degree of what many associate and specialized ministers have not - agency. Simply feeling like you have a modicum of control over your circumstances makes a big difference emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. So let’s think about how heads of staff and lay leaders can offer more say to the programmatic pack mules of the pandemic.

Actively support the creation of a pastoral relations committee. A PRC is a group of people that actively supports - and at times even advocates for - the minister. It is different from a personnel committee, which is often involved in performance reviews and budgeting and serves as an intermediary between the congregation and all staff members. When they function optimally, PRCs are the groups within churches to which a minister is able to bring both professional and personal celebrations and concerns.

Set the minister up with co-journeyers beyond the congregation. Even big churches are small worlds, and ministers need someone beyond those realms for accompaniment. Mentors can give advice. Coaches can help ministers strategize around challenges and goals. Therapists can guide ministers in addressing wounds in their lives. Spiritual directors can assist ministers with staying grounded in a relationship with God. Any of these kinds of companions could be helpful to a minister who feels overburdened.

Re-examine every piece of the minister’s compensation package. If a minister is doing more work, then more compensation is due. This is not just cash salary, it’s time away and professional development funds as well. Simply recognizing and rewarding a minister with more money and benefits can go a long way in helping a hardworking minister feel valued and empowered.

Communicate, then communicate some more. Disrupted lines of communication and connection have made everyone’s lives harder during Covid. Imagine that stress on top of exponentially more work. Prioritize regular check-ins with associate ministers as well as other staff. Ask them what they need instead of waiting for them to come to you. Share what you’re doing and even how you’re feeling. This can be a moment not just for helping second-chair ministers not feel so lonely but also deepening mutually-supportive relationships.

Get your minister some hands-on help. It’s time to stop staffing out of scarcity. Think about what God is inviting your church to do, and staff for that. In the meantime (and when the church is fully staffed once again), encourage lay people with bandwidth to offer their time and talents and grow as disciples in the process.

Bless you, Ministers of AllTheThings. You have done so much to keep your church going. Sometimes you might feel invisible, but rest assured that you are invaluable.

Photo by Ferenc Horvath on Unsplash.

I am very excited to start a new blog series that features clergywomen who are putting fresh expressions of ministry out into the world. My hopes are to amplify their great work, to spark readers’ imaginations, and to encourage pastors who are thinking about new ways of living into their call.

Today I am delighted to feature The Reverend Julie Hoplamazian, Associate Rector of St. Michael’s Episcopal Church in New York City. She is also the founder of Faith on Pointe, which offers online ballet classes that integrate dance and spirituality. I love that Julie’s ministry pushes against the old spirit/flesh dichotomy, that it is so body positive, and that it brings together play and prayer. I asked Julie to share about her ministry and the hurdles and helps to it. Check out her responses below.

What is your ministry all about?

This ministry is all about an embodied, creative spirituality, rooted in the knowledge that we are created in the image of an incarnate, creative God.

You've created a brand-new ministry, unlike anything else out there. What are the sources of your inspiration, courage, and support?

First and foremost, I'm inspired and encouraged by the people I've been privileged to meet through this work. To find so many people who know, deep in their bones, that dancing is spiritual has been a great joy and energizer. On the flip side, I suppose you could also say I was inspired by my own loneliness in this area and the hope that there were others like me who wanted to dance and integrate their faith into it. And I'm constantly inspired by so many colleagues who are creating their own ministries. Seeing others live into their authenticity inspired me to do the same.

What obstacles have you faced to launching your ministry, and how are you overcoming or managing them?

Can I be completely honest? My biggest obstacle is my impostor syndrome, that I have no right to be teaching this stuff -- despite my theological training and years of experience as a ballet teacher and a priest. The recurring voice in my head says that I have nothing new or original or groundbreaking to offer. On a related note, I also struggle with the "business" side of it: the self-promotion, growing my email list, advertising the classes I teach, and so on.

How do you overcome this?

I mean, I don't. It's probably never going to go away. I'm lucky that I have a spouse and some close, trusted friends who are unwaveringly supportive and remind me to get my head out of my ass when I get stuck in my self-doubt loops. And, deep down, I'm connected to my "why." I know why I want to do this and why I'm passionate about it. That root connection is absolutely necessary to keepin' on going.

For whom is your ministry really good news? Why?

This ministry is good news for folks who want more embodied spiritual practice, and who want to integrate creativity into it. I've done a lot of research into the connections between ballet and theology, and there's a lot of richness there. Rather than being two separate (albeit often parallel) disciplines, there are actually several common "doctrines" they share, and uncovering that is the key to this being a genuine spiritual practice.

What's the best way for people to get more information about your ministry?

My website Faith on Pointe has it all! I send out a monthly newsletter that you can sign up for on the website - that's the best way to stay connected. You can also find me on Instagram (@faith_on_pointe).

Thank you, Julie, for sharing so openly about your ministry and about all that is going on in and around you as you invite others into it!

Look for another ministry innovator spotlight next month.

Today you can find me over on the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship blog with thoughts on why pastoral care is so complicated right now - and how our people can get the care they need. (Click through to read more.)

Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash.

Many of the pastors I talk with are operating within viewing distance of overwhelm, that fog of fatigue and disorientation that can’t be fixed by a good night’s sleep, a vacation, or maybe even a sabbatical. They want to remedy this situation, but all the demands on them are so tangled that it’s hard to know which one to pull on first.

In March I am offering a four-week cohort to help pastors think about where they might tug on a thread to begin not just to unravel their overwhelm but also to build toward ongoing wellbeing. The timing of this cohort is intentional. It’s designed to see you through the first half of Lent and give you tools as you approach Holy Week, often one of the busiest weeks of the year for clergy.

We will use these four weeks to consider the points along the Results Cycle, a model developed by Thomas Crane:

If the current result we’re getting is that sense of overwhelm, then we can intervene anywhere else in the cycle to get a different outcome. In week one, we’ll talk about what the result is that we do want - what is our understanding of, our purpose in, our ministry? In session two we’ll examine and replace the beliefs that keep us locked in overwhelm using Martin Seligman’s three Ps (personalization, pervasiveness, permanence) as a framework. For our third gathering we’ll consider our tolerations (in other words, what we’re putting up with) and take steps toward habits and systems to eliminate them. And in the final week we’ll think through strengthening relationships via setting and communicating boundaries and guardrails. The goal of each cohort meeting is to find one small tweak that can make a big difference in how we move about the world.

Of course, the real benefit of this cohort is the participants - the shared wisdom and companionship you will offer one another. I will provide tools and the space, but you will bring the oomph, the encouragement, the heart. Together we will find daylight through the soupy fog.

Find out more and register by March 1 here.

Last summer my husband, son, and I took our first trip to the beach in three years, a long stretch away since we live in a coastal state. We were so eager to get sand in every crevice and to feel ourselves buoyed by the waves that we plunged into the ocean, noting but not getting too hung up on the red flag flapping by the beach access walkway. We were far from alone in being carefree – the shoreline was dotted with happily bobbing heads.

It was a lot of fun. It was also nerve-wracking to watch my guys go out farther than I was comfortable. The undertow was a force to be reckoned with in those red flag conditions. No matter how strong a swimmer you are, the current can suck you under and disorient you without warning.

As far back as a year and a half ago, once it became clear that Covid was not going to be a mere blip, I started talking about the impending tidal wave of pastoral transitions. The constant pivots, the isolation, the extra work, the inability to do the ministry to which they’d been called in satisfying ways, the conflicts over pandemic precautions and racial injustice and the 2020 election – all of it was going to be too much to allow some clergy to remain in their positions. And indeed, there has and continues to be unprecedented turnover in pastoral leadership.

I wonder, though, whether a tidal wave is still the most helpful image. I think back to being up to my knees in ocean water, seeing my fearless, capable husband and son disappearing under waves and holding my breath until they popped back up. That undertow is sneaky, I kept saying. It can get you no matter how tough you are. Now I stand on the fringes of congregational ministry, coaching some pastors and offering friend support to others. I know they are gifted and called. I’m familiar with the very good work they do with creativity and care. And, the fatigue that comes from continually fighting the current of all that ministry demands right now is obvious in their slumped shoulders, undereye circles, and shallow breaths. Some of their bobbing heads go under the waves and do not re-emerge in my line of sight. Instead, a few eventually come up down the shoreline at another congregation while others drift out to leaves of absence or to different ways to make a living.

This is where we are. Covid and all that has accompanied it have worn us down, and the undertow can pull under even the most stalwart among us. This is not a personal failing. It simp­ly the reality of where we find ourselves at the two-year mark of pandemic. That doesn’t mean that everyone is doomed to the whims of the tide, however. If we can find support, we can remain one of those (relatively) contentedly bobbing heads out in the water. Here’s how judicatory leaders and congregations can help:

Judicatory leaders

Pastors – all pastors – need respite right now. They could use your help to get it. They need your permission and encouragement to take time away. They need your advocacy with and education of their churches so that they don’t fear for their jobs if they do take time off. They need your connections to find coverage for preaching and pastoral care, or at least your willingness to lead worship online or pre-record services for your entire judicatory. They need funding from you to get a change of scenery, something we could all use after two years of semi-lockdown. They need referrals to counselors and spiritual directors and coaches who can help them navigate whatever comes when they return from an extended sabbath. ­This is a moment when you can bless all of your clergy and their congregations through your work, judicatory leaders.

Congregations

Churches, your pastors love you. And right now they need a break from you so that they can continue their good ministry with you. Be generous with your leaders in every conceivable way. Give them more time away than usual, certainly. If you can afford to cover a retreat experience or sessions with a professional who can help your clergy tool up for wellbeing, do it. But also be lavish with your own time, if you have it. Offer to make congregational care calls. Volunteer for tech crew or event set-up. Step up to teach Sunday School, even if only on an occasional basis. Above all, be generous in your judgments of your pastors, who are undoubtedly doing the best they can under prolonged stress. Be flexible when circumstances change. Tell your pastors that you see (even though you don’t see it all) and value what they are doing.

The red flags are out, friends. Let’s all keep an eye out for one another and invite each other to come out of the battering wind and waves as needed. This is what it will take to continue being church in this ongoing pandemic.

Photo by Kai Bossom on Unsplash.

I recently interviewed several pastors for a Doctor of Ministry class assignment. My topic was how the shift to virtual/hybrid ministry during Covid has impacted pastors’ role and vocational identity. Some of these clergy have found renewed hope and purpose in the midst of the chaos. Some of them feel like they have been robbed of the joy of ministry and are hanging on to their jobs by their fingertips. All of them, though, talked in some way about the overwhelm that the pandemic has prompted: the expansion of their position descriptions just as other responsibilities (such as caregiving) ballooned, the decision fatigue, the million mini pivots in ministry, the arguments over Covid precautions, the reduced access to typical stress-reducing strategies, the increased profile and accompanying performance anxiety that has come with uploading or livestreaming worship. The struggle is very, very real.

On Thursday, February 10, I will be joining my clergy colleagues Heidi Carrington Heath and Callie Swanlund in offering a workshop about dealing with this overwhelm. Callie, a Brene Brown Daring Way Facilitator, will help us differentiate between stress and overwhelm. Heidi, a spiritual director and writer, will provide tools for spiritual resilience. I will share a wellbeing assessment to help participants untangle their overwhelm and reclaim agency and presence. And that’s just the first 30 minutes! We’ll take a break after the panelist presentations, then move into 45-minute breakout sessions for deeper dives into the material and for group engagement. After the workshop, participants will have the option to join a 4-week cohort led by one of the three presenters to continue applying insights and tools.

The workshop on February 10 is being hosted free of charge by Practical Resources for Churches, and everyone who registers will receive a recording of the introductory 30-minute panel discussion.

You are not alone in your overwhelm. You also don’t have to stay mired in it. Join Heidi, Callie, and me to begin finding your way out. Register today for the overwhelm workshop.

When leaders in the church need to gather information from congregants, often the first inclination is to distribute a survey. It seems like a quick and easy way to take a church’s pulse and make needed decisions.

That might - or might not - be true. Here are the situations when a survey could be helpful:

When you need to gather hard data. If you need to gather member information (e.g., length of membership, distance members drive to the church) or assess interest in certain volunteer ministry roles, a survey could be the ticket.

When you’re laying the groundwork for further conversation. A survey could give a good indication of which issues need to be addressed in live interaction. For example, “what are the biggest questions you have about our church’s future?”

When you’re asking about gifts or needs. What needs in our larger community bear addressing? What are the strengths of our church? These kinds of questions broaden discussion in helpful ways.

On the other hand, there are times when surveys should be avoided:

When the topic is nuanced or conflictual. These issues absolutely must be addressed via conversations. The anonymity of surveys opens the door to hurtful and unhelpful words (e.g., “our church will never grow until we have better leadership” or “the preacher needs to stop using a manuscript”), and people must have the give-and-take of dialogue to get on the same page on topics that might be (or become) confusing.

When you are asking about personal preferences. This sets up the expectation that those (often diverging or conflicting) desires will be met. Asking about what qualities each member wants in a pastor or what they do/don’t like about worship are particularly big landmines.

When the survey is the conversation, not a prelude to one. Rarely is a survey a one-step solution. The only time this might be the case is when you are gathering hard data (see above) that is clear in its interpretation and application.

When your area of inquiry is wide-ranging. Not only will long surveys not be completed, the ones that are returned will give you so much information that it will take a lot of time and energy to interpret.

Surveys might seem like the simplest way forward, but they can complicate a decision or process in a hurry if not designed and used well.

Photo by Lukas Blazek on Unsplash.

I have been an avid reader since the first grade. I have the receipts: my Mom unearthed a note I slid under her door when I was very young, earnestly repenting for whatever sin I’d committed that had prompted her to cancel a trip to the library.

I read in church. I read in the car. I read on my beanbag in the closet under the stairs. I wouldn’t put a book down until I finished it, even if I didn’t care for the story that much. I was in seminary before I failed to finish all the reading for a class. I was driven in leisure and school reading to the point that my self-discipline sometimes (often?) tipped over into isolation and insufferability.

Over the past few years I’ve given myself more license to put a book down if I didn’t like it. Life is short, after all. The occasions when I quit on reading were still rare, though.

That changed a few months ago. In the second half of 2021, I kicked more books to the curb than I read to the end. I wasn’t sure what that was about until I returned a Fredick Backman book - a Fredrik Backman book, for goodness’ sake - with 1/3 of it still to go. It seemed clear that one of the teenage characters was about to die by suicide, and I said, “NOPE.” I opened my Libby app and clicked “return early” without a moment of hesitation. It was suddenly clear to me that my grief had been triggered. A year and a half of Covid fear and malaise, then the death of my father when Covid blew through his memory care unit and his already disease-ridden body couldn’t withstand the virus - it was too much. I was returning books left and right, either because I had no energy for them or they were just more sad than I could bear.

We think of grief as tears or fatigue or withdrawal or even anger. But it doesn’t have to look that way. Sometimes it’s the figurative throwing of a book across the room. How does your individual grief manifest? How does the collective grief of a congregation that has endured so much loss and change show up?

We’ve got to acknowledge and make room for our grief so that we can lament and offer our honest selves up to God. Otherwise, we’ll be mired in despair that keeps us stuck in a reality we no longer recognize, unable to imagine our way forward.

Do you need to throw a book across the room? Yell into the void? Cry so many tears that they carve salty riverbeds in your cheeks? It’s ok. God understands. God welcomes all of our feelings. God sits with us in them. And God invites (sometimes nudges) us into a future that might not be what we hoped or planned but that can be abundant and good and hard in a really holy way.

Photo by Lacie Slezak on Unsplash.

In one sense, not much changed when 2021 rolled over into 2022 a few days ago. Many of the same challenges and opportunities are in front of us. There is not anything magical about the ball dropping in Times Square or switching from one planner to another.

Still, there is something about turning the page that feels different. Perhaps it’s the Anne of Green Gables sentiment that "Tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it," and a new year offers us 365 fresh tomorrows. In church life there’s a bit of time to catch our breath after Advent and Christmas and before Lent. The fiscal year might have rebooted. New leaders may be bringing renewed energy to meetings. Many church members are coming off time with family or time away from work. All of this contributes to a vibe of possibility, making this a prime season for doing some intentional reflection and planning to set your church up well for the coming year(s). Here are some of the areas in which congregational coaching can help, along with key questions coaching can give you the structure to explore:

Leader retreat. Whether your lay leaders have just turned over or have had a few months to gel and find their footing, they could use additional support. What exactly do their roles in your church entail? What equipping do they need to partner well with staff for the good of the congregation? How might they both broaden their imaginations about what is possible and ground their work spiritually?

Pandemic-prompted conundrums. Unfortunately, Covid is still very much with us, and we can no longer afford to wait until it is “over” to mull key questions. What might a more dispersed or hybrid model of church look like in your context? What does membership look like in these changing times? What engagement is needed to nurture the discipleship of constituents and provide them with community?

Visioning. In lieu of a strategic plan, a business model that never really worked well for the church (and really doesn’t in these uncertain times), how might your congregation name its lived and aspirational values and identity as the basis for holy experiments? What evaluation and celebration might you build into your efforts in order to look for the surprising ways that God is showing up?

Reflections on staffing models and pastor searches. Given the changing shape of the Church and your local church, what kind of pastoral leadership do you need? How and where might you find these kinds of leaders and then support their ministries?

In the past year my congregational coaching work has included:

• Training a pastor search team, with the end result of thoughtfully calling a pastor who is a “first”

• Creating spaces for lament and discernment so that church leadership could answer, “Where do we go from here?”

• Guiding a congregation through identity work so that it could make big decisions about its property out of its values and purpose

• Helping a congregation think through a staff re-structure that honors the gifts of current staff and seeks skills needed for new possibilities and challenges

• Facilitating conversation between a new pastor and church leadership to develop understanding, mutual trust, and excitement for ministry together

Congregational coaching can be done via Zoom, making the schedule more flexible, meetings more accessible and less affected by potential Covid spikes, and the cost more affordable. If you’d like to talk about your church’s needs and ways that congregational coaching can help you start 2022 with momentum, contact me or visit my calendar to set up a time to talk.

Photo by Isabela Kronemberger on Unsplash.

We are in one stretch of a much longer season of challenge in the Church. I have read lots of insightful articles about it. I have written about it myself, as recently as last week.

And yet.

My fundamental belief about challenge, about change, steadfastly remains that opportunity comes baked into it. Let’s look for its notes.

Maybe what once worked for your church no longer does. The gifts that you have can be combined in new ways for a different (but still potent) impact.

Maybe your pastor has departed. This is your congregation’s chance to think through what kind of leader it needs in this hybrid virtual/in-seat world.

Maybe your once placid church finds itself in conflict. This can build needed capacity for hard, healthy conversations now and down the road.

Maybe the familiar faces that used to surround you in the pews no longer show up. That can create impetus for intentional outreach to and emotional as well as physical space for new people.

When our practices are shaken loose from our routines, when the people who define community for us leave us, when we disagree, when we can only put one foot in front of the other because The Future seems so uncertain, we have choices to make. We can make them out of anxiety, out of a desperation to claw our way back to what was. Or, we can admit that our vision and control are limited and instead play. Experiment. Ask. Succeed and reflect (and celebrate!) or fail and reflect, untying learning from getting it all right. We can - dare I say? - delight in the mess. God blesses our earnest, prayerful efforts.

So what might your church want to try? What fun do you want to have? What (or whom) do you want to get curious about? Consider this your permission slip. You’re doing it right, even if you’re getting it wrong, if you open your palms and continually seek God’s wisdom.

Photo by Billy Pasco on Unsplash.

Last year Advent and Christmas looked different than before for churches that took Covid seriously. In some contexts, worship was online only. In others, max capacity was set by guidelines from the CDC rather than the fire marshal. Masking and physical distancing were required. Musical offerings - often a key aspect of holy observances - were limited. Fewer non-worship seasonal activities such as Advent fairs and Sunday School parties felt safe to schedule. It was really hard to restrict our traditions, our interactions with others, our bodily presences, in this way. It wasn’t how any pastor or layperson would prefer to experience December. But we did it, even if sometimes grumbling or lamenting, for the good of our neighbors. The promise of vaccines in early 2021, along with the Advent message of hope even in perilous times, pulled us through.

Here we are a year later, now confronted with a hope that is much more complicated. Many of us have been vaccinated and even boosted, a true miracle born of the wisdom and abilities God gave scientists. But enough people here in North America decline to get vaccinated and/or to take continued precautions against Covid such that the pandemic is still very much with us. And while some locations have weathered the Delta surge, we are all now staring down the barrel of Omicron. The TBD impact of this variant and the resulting ambiguity around how many precautions we still need to take at church are making this December a moving target for planning.

The threat of the virus itself is just one of many factors making pastoral leadership particularly difficult right now. Parishioners are understandably tired of - and thus lax about - masking and distancing. One pandemic year might not have dinged giving much, but in year two there are big concerns about budgets. Formerly stalwart members have ghosted their churches to go elsewhere or nowhere. Congregations who hoped to bounce back to what church looked like pre-Covid are uneasy with changes based on pandemic gleanings (or necessities). Because of these realities, even some of the wise, steady presences in congregations have begun to complain about unfixable situations and to open doors to conflict. Meanwhile, pastors’ work continues to be as much or more about technology and ever-changing decisions regarding what is safe to do as it is about worship content, formation, and community engagement, deferring their return to the heart of the work they have been called and gifted to do.

I hear all of these factors weighing heavily on many of the clergy I coach, and together they are pushing some pastors to the point of grief at a time when most of them expect to be buoyed by the energy of the season. On top of ministers’ vocational grief, there is the personal grief all of us share. We have been deprived to some extent of the connection for which we are built. We have missed so much of what we looked forward to the past two years. We have been pushed to the brink by worry about health and finances, by additional caregiving responsibilities, by the pandemic (and everything else) being politicized and weaponized.

I see you, pastors. You are faithful, creative, tenacious, and compassionate. Many of you are also so tired in body and soul. Please be gentle with yourselves. Find your appropriate outlets for blowing off steam. Make sure you’re getting enough movement and sunlight and nourishment. Know whom you can lean on for helpful support. Plan for time away. Ask for what you need. And, if all of this is not enough to sustain you physically, emotionally, and spiritually, take your leave (whether for a season or for good) before you are fried. You are serving Jesus’ church, and he lovingly holds it in his hands no matter what role you assume in it. You are God’s beloved, no matter where you work.

The ways that you thoughtfully choose to show up - or not to show up - in this season of holy waiting are helping to midwife a Church that will be more innovative and responsive, that will re-focus us all on God’s priorities and Christ’s love. Advent literally means “coming.” You are the bearers through your presence and your intentional absence not of optimism or toxic positivity but of grounded hope for an emerging time, a new way of being. I am so grateful for who you are.

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash.

Today I offer this word on Advent and Christmas in an ongoing pandemic over at the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship blog.

Photo by Waldemar Brandt on Unsplash.

Pastors, you rock.

You really do. As unbelievable as it sounds, I think 2021 has been an even harder year to be in ministry than 2021. There has been so much more ambiguity. Some people are vaccinated yet others are not, whether by choice or circumstances such as age. What does that mean for what we can safely do? There has been more unpredictability. The Covid numbers were good in many places in May and June, then Delta brought us to our knees starting in late July. Statistics have improved in some locations since then, but many experts predict upticks as the weather turns colder. How will that impact Advent and Christmas observances? There has been more fatigue. Yours, for sure. But your church folks are also weary of hearing about Covid, living with Covid, and changing precautions at Covid’s whims. How will you persist in keeping people safe, and where will needed rest come from? There has been grief. Some of the people we had hoped to see back in the pews by now are not and might not ever be. The shape of the church we’ve known and loved is being fundamentally altered. What will it ultimately look like?

Despite all these trials and more, you have hung in there. Thank you for your faithfulness and hard work! AND, make sure you have the support you need as you continue to lead through ongoing challenge. 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,

• helping your church members engage well among themselves when some are in person, others are online, and a few have disappeared into the ether,

• addressing conflict that has been exacerbated by the troubles of the past 18 months,

• dreaming about what is now possible that wasn’t before change was thrust upon us,

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.

Last year I wrote an e-book about visioning in the small church. It details a process for dreaming, listening for God, and planning out of a sense of gratitude for what your congregation has. Some of these gifts are individual while others are collective. There are both tangible and intangible blessings available for your use. They include money and facilities, but they encompass so much more than that. Together, they point your church toward God’s invitations to all kinds of ministry.

The book was written for a pre-pandemic church, but just like you’ve done with so many other aspects of your congregation’s life, you can adapt the outlines to online or hybrid formats.

It seems fitting to me during this week that I give thanks to you for all that you do by helping you learn how to celebrate and operate out of all that your congregation has to offer. So for today only, you can download my book for free. Feel free to share this link far and wide. We will all benefit from a church and a world infused with gratitude!

A couple of weeks ago I led a retreat session for clergywomen. My instruction from the retreat organizer was simply to facilitate a conversation among the participants: after twenty months of pandemic ministry (plus other stressors exacerbated by Covid), what is their state of being?

I knew that if these women were like me, it might be difficult for them to separate areas in which they are doing ok from those in which they’re not. After all, our lives have become a tangle of tugs on our energy, brain space, and time. So I put together a very non-scientific assessment based on the PERMA model developed by Martin Seligman. In Seligman’s field of positive psychology, the focus is on what supports flourishing, not what will relieve distress. The assessment, then, asks takers to evaluate the truth of statements on a scale of 1 to 5 in those areas most tied to thriving: positive emotions, sense of engagement in their lives and work, health of their relationships, overarching sense of meaning, and feeling of accomplishment. I tailored these statements to ministry and added in a few other statements about caring for physical health. The goal of this tool was to help my session participants celebrate what’s going well (4s and 5s) and become more aware of parts of their lives that might need further attention in order to increase overall wellbeing (1s and 2s).

If this tool could be helpful to you, I offer it for your use. Feel free to download and/or share it. And, if you identify a particular aspect in which you’d like to make strides, let’s talk about how coaching could help you with that.

Click on the image to download a PDF of the wellbeing assessment.

If you have never met me, you might not know something important about me: I am 4’10” tall.

Many short people bemoan their size. I understand the inconvenience of it in certain situations. I had to sit on a pillow when I drove my first car. (I still require multiple pillows below and behind me when I drive a 15-passenger bus.) I need my Spidey skills to reach an item on the top shelf at Publix. I wasn’t meant to be a basketball star, as much as I love the game.

For the most part, though, I welcome being the smallest adult in the room. I connect well with children because they think I’m one of them. It’s easy to tell a new acquaintance how to find me in a crowd. Adults consider me non-threatening, which means they honor me by sharing more deeply about themselves. I also have the element of surprise when I say a firm or difficult word, because no one expects that from the lady who looks like a kid. And my height has been key to my parenting, because I could always join my son in what he was doing, whether he was sitting at a table in a tiny chair or climbing in a play place at a fast food restaurant.

My experiences as a short person have no doubt shaped my love for small churches. Megachurches hold no interest for me. Program-sized churches have a lot to offer, but they’re not where I choose to spend my time either. I want to be in and work with those churches that are tied to a specific neighborhood or that are thinking about going from a full-time to a part-time pastor or that create communities of belonging and service for those people who would never set foot in a big box church. These congregations are thinking every day about how to be faithful with what they have. At their best, they are nimble and innovative and have an impact far beyond their small size. They are not slowed down by bureaucracy but can more easily experiment, reflect, and make changes based on their learning. They understand the importance of bringing everyone along. They make things happen together, not just depend on the pastor to get it all done. They incorporate all ages into most ministries, because siloing children and youth is not an option or a desire in a small church.

Sure, most small churches would like to have more resources and people, and there is real struggle that comes with having less. But there is so much good in being small. Claim your advantages and use your gifts, and in the process you will honor God and grow in the ways that really matter.