Clergy & Congregational Coach
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Helping clergy and congregations navigate transitions with faithfulness and curiosity

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Posts tagged clergy encouragement
Group coaching session on balancing pastoring and parenting

Recent scenes from my house:

I am sending emails from my desk, my seven-year-old curled around my feet as he plays with Lego minifigures.

I am wrestling internally with how hard to push my kid to complete the math worksheets assigned by his teacher, even as I seek to lower work expectations for myself.

I am coaching in my office, noting the sounds of my son humming the Jurassic Park soundtrack filtering through multiple walls.

I am closing the lid of my laptop as my child comes to me with a book and a need to snuggle.

I am wondering, as I drift off to sleep, how well I served anyone that day with my attention pulled in multiple directions.

Pastor-parents, I salute you. You are walking a tightrope right now, learning how to do - and doing - all the church things in new ways while your children also need your attention. And, of course, your own exhaustion requires tending as well. How do we strike that balance?

I am offering a group coaching session next Tuesday, April 28, in which we’ll work through that struggle for ourselves. How we want to show up for the people in our care (both at church and at home), what is essential to us right now for both pastoring and parenting, and what shifts would we like to make as a result? The session will take place 12:00-1:30 pm CDT via Zoom and limited to no more than five participants. The cost will be $25. Click here to sign up.

Pastor-parents - I see you. Thank you for the ways you care for the people in your personal and professional lives.

Workshop: managing impostor syndrome

At the height of Michael Jordan's NBA career, Gatorade launched the "Be like Mike" campaign. If we replenished our electrolytes with the same sports beverage as Jordan, then we could hope to lead our teams to NBA titles, be named the NBA's MVP, and take home multiple NBA scoring and slam-dunk championships.

It's important to have role models, people who broaden our imaginations about what's possible. At some point there becomes a danger, though, of feeling like a fraud if we compare ourselves to those role models - or even to those who don't seem to be putting in the work yet reap the rewards of their positions - and judge ourselves as coming up short. There aren't enough gallons of Gatorade to make up for gaps in privilege or charisma or opportunity or raw talent.

Even in 2020, many clergywomen are treated as if we are "playing at" pastoring, as if we don't deserve to live into the fullness of God's call on our lives and aren't capable to exercise the fullness of God's equipping for our vocations. While we often feel like we are treading water, toiling for our authority every day, we see others gaining bigger platforms.

Enter impostor syndrome: what am I doing here? Is someone going to realize I don't belong and call me on it? Does my effort even matter, since I might never be the Michael Jordan of ministry? (Spoiler alert: YES.) Impostor syndrome is widespread and insidious. It makes us feel like our gifts and ministries aren't valuable to God or God's people. It urges us to lead in ways that are not authentic to us, which means we don't leverage our God-given strengths as faithfully as we could. It causes us to doubt our decisions instead of using outcomes - whatever they might be - as fodder for ongoing discernment. It causes us to compare ourselves to others, which prompts discouragement that can eventually lead to our departure from ministry altogether.

From 11:00 am -12:30 pm central time on May 13 I will be offering an interactive workshop for clergywomen on managing impostor syndrome. Within a theological framing, we'll name what impostors are. As counterpoints, we'll discuss how we came to be where we are, what our impact is on our ministry settings, how we can remember our worth, and how we can develop mutual support networks to bolster one another when symptoms of impostor syndrome emerge. Participants will take away awareness and practices they can put in place to live out of God's call on their lives and God's love for God's people rather than out of the (sometimes internalized) expectations of others.

The cost for this workshop, which will take place via the Zoom online platform, is $20. There will be an option to add on three 1-hour coaching sessions, at a discounted rate of $225 (total for all three sessions), to help you apply what you learn. Click here to sign up.

Who - or what - controls your time?

I have had a number of conversations lately with coachees who feel overwhelmed by their workloads. Some have even expressed shame that they can’t seem to get their arms around all they need – or at least think they need – to do.

Here are my responses to that:

You are not alone. Not by a long shot. Most ministers are generalists, which makes your work big and amorphous.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s because you care. You love your calling and your people. That’s a good thing!

It is ok to reclaim your time. There are some things that only you can do or that you are specifically called to do. You are allowed to prioritize those tasks.

There are strategies that can help you toward that end. Some of the following suggestions will work better than others for you based on your work style and personality type, but you might consider:

Developing a work flow. Think about tasks that recur weekly or monthly and schedule standing blocks of time for them. These don’t have to be big chunks, but blocking time creates touchstones that reduce anxiety and the number of decisions you have to make in a day.

Postponing and/or limiting time spent on email. If you open your email as soon as you sit down at your desk, you have ceded control of your day to whatever awaits you in those messages. Get some of your important tasks done before you check your inbox. A related strategy is to dg into email only at a couple of designated times each day. (Rest assured that real emergencies will get through to you by other means.)

Thinking in longer arcs. Take time at the beginning of each month or season to set goals, plan sermon trajectories, or create outlines for Bible studies. That will offer continuity to your work and make sure your best ideas don’t get shelved.

Breaking big projects into smaller tasks. Projects on the whole can feel too overwhelming to start, but they are made up of mini projects and shorter deadlines that are much more manageable.

Working somewhere else when needed. It’s ok to set up shop from time to time somewhere that you won’t be interrupted every five minutes. Let your admin or lay leaders know where you are for accountability and how your deep work during these windows benefits the church.

Getting curious. Ask yourself questions such as, “Why am I doing this?” or “Who could do this better or with more enthusiasm than me?”

Empowering others. Ministry is about equipping people to follow Jesus. What opportunities to use God-given strengths and to share the love of Christ can others take on and free you up for other responsibilities in the process?

Loving the people in your care is not the same as responding to their every expectation, real or imagined. I encourage you to be proactive about your use of time and to notice how your ministry and your stress level change as a result.

It's a new year, but the world doesn't need a whole new you

You see, you’re already pretty great.

First of all, you are a beloved child of God, made in the divine image. That means you glimmer with God’s imagination and care. Wow.

Second, you are tenacious. After all, you’ve had bad days and Really Bad Days in among the good. And the world sometimes feels like it’s crumbling around us. Yet here you are, keeping on keeping on. Great work!

Third, you do really valuable ministry.  I feel confident saying that you are not just smart but also wise. That you are resourceful and innovative. That you are compassionate. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have the role and the responsibilities that you tend so faithfully. I’m grateful for who you are and what you do.

So the world doesn’t need you to become a whole new you in 2020, despite what the weight loss commercials might tell you. The world does need you to become the best you, though, because you have unique ways of seeing and being in and moving through all that is wonderful and terrible. And we need this particularity from you, from each other.

Coaching can help you embrace this best self. In this new year, I’d love to help you discover:

  • what your hard-won and God-given aspects of greatness look like,

  • how to channel that greatness for more impact,

  • how to remove obstacles to that greatness, and

  • how to share (and enlist others to share) the good news of that greatness with others.

Are you ready to explore the fullness of who you are and what you can do in 2020? If so, let’s talk. Click here to schedule a free discovery call.

Women helping women

I know a lot of clergywomen. I run in different networks designed for them. I coach them. I am one myself. And I cannot think of a single one that is not creative, smart, and committed. Why, then, aren’t more clergywomen serving as senior pastors in big pulpits or leading middle judicatories or denominations?

Some of the reasons  are cultural and structural. Women, socialized for humility, are more likely to be shamed (by men and women) for assertively sharing their successes and ideas. Women’s contributions are sometimes co-opted by men, who repeat and get credit for what women have said, sometimes just moments before. Women often have smaller spheres of influence because of the ministry roles to which they are called, giving them less exposure for big steeple pastor searches and elections to leadership on a larger platform. That’s why I piloted a cohort called Trinit-A this fall to help the participants become more comfortable and confident sharing their successes and innovations, celebrate each other’s gifts and accomplishments in ways that encourage continued growth, and go to bat for one another and themselves in spaces dominated by male voices.

During the first session, I asked the members of the cohort what their personal hopes for our time together would be. The group named a desire to share what we learned with others. One of our chosen methods was a blog post. And so, with the cohort’s blessing, I would like to name some of the themes that emerged from our conversations.

Affirm specifics. The group members noted that often they hear their male counterparts celebrated for specific talents and tasks, while they are generally – even generically – referred to as “great,” “sweet,” or “wonderful.” They encouraged affirming in others and in ourselves particular gifts or accomplishments. That makes it more likely that the clergywoman in question will stick in hearers’/observers’ minds and will stand out more in search processes.

Re-write your bio. When we guest preach or speak or lead a retreat, we are inevitably asked for a bio to put in the bulletin and other marketing pieces. Look at yours. In what ways have you undersold your credentials? (If you’re unsure, consult with one of your biggest cheerleaders.) Then take another run at a bio that captures the fullness of your track record and abilities.

Take your rightful seat at the table. Sometimes we’re invited to the table. More often we have to invite ourselves. Either way, it’s important to show up to leadership conversations, reframing, questioning, challenging, and offering our insight on our own behalf and others.’

Network to connect others. For some, networking is still a dirty word. For others it’s not, but it feels awkward. Networking, done right, is intended to benefit both parties. But there’s a way to make it not just win-win, but win-win-win as Michael Scott would say. Consider how you can use your relationships to introduce people who would be of interest to one another but might not meet without your help. Then those people (and the ones they serve) have benefitted, and you lodge in others’ brains as someone who is connected and generous and wise about potential collaborations.

Link hands across denominational lines. Some denominations have more women in ministry than others. Regardless if you’re a pioneer or a third wave clergywoman, though, it helps to have relationships and sounding boards among female clergy in other denominations. These spaces offer perspective, a greater pool of support, and opportunities to share more honestly than is sometimes possible in small denominational worlds. They also lay the groundwork for multi-denominational collaboration.

Highlight positive voices. This fall a certain (male) evangelical leader made a big hubbub about telling a certain (female) author, speaker, and Bible teacher to return to her domicile, among other offensive statements. That incident got a lot of play on my Twitter and Facebook feeds, but it didn’t do much for women other than accentuate how entrenched the patriarchy remains. Instead of giving men who belittle women a bigger platform, the cohort advocated for pushing the voices of women and their allies. It’s just as easy to click share or retweet if you see a clergywoman doing something good or saying something insightful as it is to pass along outrageous content.

Keep track of all you do. The cohort was built on the participants’ willingness to announce recent accomplishments. There were long pauses on the first couple of calls, though, as the members scrolled through their days to remember something worth sharing. After a couple of weeks, one of the women suggested keeping a running list between calls. That shifted the conversation. Responses included, “I didn’t realize how much I do!” and “I thought this was something everyone did. It never occurred to me before now that it is a legit accomplishment.” We’re better prepared to talk about ourselves when we acknowledge all that we do.

Know that your success is my success, and vice versa. We’ve probably all heard a congregation say, “Well, we tried having a woman pastor, and it just didn’t work.” It might be decades before that church is willing to call a woman again, even though the issue was likely not the minister herself but the fit or the church’s lack of support. On the other hand, you might have also heard, “We had a woman pastor, and she was amazing. Let’s call another one.” When one of us succeeds, we broaden the path for all our colleagues.

If we announce our accomplishments and affirm and amplify each other, our whispers of giftedness and faithfulness become shouts that skeptics can’t ignore.

Thank you to this pilot cohort of Trinit-A. I enjoyed being with and learning from you so much.

If you are interested in a future Trinit-A cohort, contact me.

I appreciate you, pastors

October is Pastor Appreciation Month, but let’s be honest. You deserve to be noticed and thanked year-round for the ways you have committed your lives not just to the tasks but also to the intense spiritual, emotional, and mental labor of ministry. I want you to know that…

…I see you when you get up at 4:30 am for a pre-surgery visit after crawling into bed late the night before due to a meeting that ran long.

…I see you when you struggle over whether to take that much-needed vacation, knowing that a beloved church member is on hospice care.

…I see you when social media tells people in the pews to “walk out of worship if your pastor doesn’t preach on [insert current event here],” yet your sensitivity to the Spirit and to your congregation’s capacity tells you that doesn’t need to be your focus today.

…I see you when the lectionary is serving up softballs for addressing the world’s ills, and you go there, knowing some of your parishioners will be angry.

…I see you when it’s hard to date or make friends outside of work because of the assumptions about and demands of your vocation.

…I see you when you are pulled between wanting to be a whole person (including showing up for your loved ones and yourself) and wanting to be the best pastor possible.

…I see you when you feel like you have to hide part of yourself, whether a belief or an aspect of your identity, because you want to be able to continue in this vocation to which God has called you.

…I see you when you work so hard to encourage your church’s progress, only to have conflict burn it all down.

…I see you when your calendar looks like a box of markers exploded on it, with color-coded appointments leaving precious little blank space.

…I see you when you have to wear the mantle of spiritual leadership even as you wrestle with your own faith.

…I see you when you are moved to enter search and call and have to deal with the ickiness of feeling like you are betraying your current context.

…I see you when you are confined by circumstances to a ministerial role you have outgrown, and you keep showing up despite the chafe.

…I see you when you have no idea what to do next after a metaphorical bomb goes off in your congregation, so you keep putting one foot directly in front of the other.

…I see you when the Church or your church makes you representative of all of a particular demographic, such that you bear the weight of excellence on behalf of all your peers.

…I see you when constructive feedback is hard to come by, no matter how much you seek it out.

…I see you when others discount your voice because you are too something, yet still you keep raising it because your message is faithful.

…I see you when you toil in obscurity, leading small congregations, because you are making big impacts that will ripple out far beyond what you will ever see.

…I see you when you make (or lead your church to make) decisions that are hard but good.

…I see you when you offer care to people who disappoint or even hurt you.

…I see you when you want more for the Church, because it is Christ’s body here on earth.

…I see your love for God and neighbor, your tenacity, your creativity, and your wisdom.

Thank you, dear ministers, for all the seen and unseen work you do to bring more peace, connection, and understanding into this world.

Taking up space in 2019

I am 4 feet 10 inches tall. Though I know many a short person who would trade bodies with someone tall in a hot second, my small size has rarely bothered me much. Sure, I get irritated when imperceptive people decide my age based on my height and thereby dismiss me, and there are times when I’d like to be able to reach the top shelves in the grocery store without doing my Spiderman impression. But in terms of simply being fun-sized, I generally like it. What would be the use of bemoaning my stature? I haven’t grown (upwards) since elementary school, so it’s not like I can will myself into a midlife spurt.

Plus, there are advantages to being small. I could hide in my locker as a high school student and jump out to give friends walking by a boost to their heart rates. My tiny fingers can reach lost objects in places where adult-sized digits would get stuck. I can sit comfortably in preschool furniture, and I can easily climb in restaurant play places to fetch my obstinate child when needed. And speaking of children, I tend to relate well with them because it’s no strain to make eye contact. (Also, I think they believe I’m one of them, because I regularly hear children stage whispering to their parents, “Is that a kid or a grown-up?”) Honestly, I wouldn’t trade these perks to be tall and svelte.

I have realized this past year, however, that there are times that I tend to make my presence as diminutive as my body. I often don’t ask for what I need, and I hold back on my opinions (sometimes) or feelings (often). I hesitate to make decisions that involve others for fear of inconveniencing someone. I abhor having people wait for me, even if there’s a good reason I’m the last one ready. This kind of shrinking is not so healthy as being at peace with my height.

I didn’t realize what I was doing until I was reading a prayer by United Methodist clergywoman Kerry Greenhill in We Pray With Her. In her “Prayer of Blessing to Be Who You Are,” Kerry writes, “May you take up space in the world” (169).

Oof. That was a much-needed kick in the pants.

Every time I don’t spell out what I need, I am not taking up my allotted space. Every time I bite my tongue, withdraw into my head, refuse to state a preference, or become frantic so as not to worry others, I am not taking up my allotted space. And space cannot tolerate a vacuum; someone else – likely a someone who has already annexed more than their fair share of space – will swoop in and fill up what I do not.

So in 2019 I am going to take up more space – not more than I am due, but the proper amount. I am going to use my voice. I am going to own what I feel. I am going to trust my gut. I am going to reclaim my time. I have already started making micro-expansions, and I am getting better at recognizing when I’m not taking up the space that I could.

In addition I will be looking for ways of coming alongside people who have either ceded too much territory or had it stripped from them. I am not alone in shrinking where I could be growing, or at least holding my ground. Let’s do this work of claiming our space – which really means living into the fullness of God’s image within us and God’s call to us – together.

Deep breath in, expanding our lungs. Exhale out, blowing our innovation and wisdom and beauty into the world. Let’s do this, 2019.

Setting your pastor up to succeed

Your church has invested a lot of time, effort, and probably money in a ministerial search, and you no doubt want to enjoy a long, fruitful season with your new leader. The interactions the search team and congregation have with the incoming minister throughout the covenanting and start-up processes will directly impact that person’s level of engagement and length of tenure. Consider how you can offer the following:

Motivation. Ministers who feel heard and cared for (emotionally and financially) will be eager to come to work each day and give their best. This will translate into better sermons and Bible studies and more enthusiastic pastoral care.

Encouragement. Ministers who hear not just constructive criticism but also affirmation will see the pastor-parish match as a good one. They will be much less likely to jump ship for other ministry opportunities.

Flexibility. Ministers whose reasonable personal needs and family responsibilities are honored by the congregation will be more fully present when they are at the church. They will be less distracted by the tug of other roles.

Alignment. Ministers who understand (and have agreed to) what the congregation expects will know better how to concentrate their efforts. This prioritization will result in deeper engagement and broader creativity and will make it easier for the clergyperson to empower others in their discipleship.

Small gestures of hospitality around these four areas can make ministers feel focused, energized, and invested for the long term. Constantly be on the lookout for ways to build the clergy-congregation bond.

Feeling hopeful

“What are you taking away from this conversation?” “Hope.”

The coaching calls that end this way are my fuel. Many clergywomen pastor through difficulties that can be traced back to the glass cliff, sexism in general, or the anxiety that often flares up in congregations. They minister with creativity, authenticity, grace, and power.

Still, even these fierce women run up on situations that are tough to unknot without a conversation partner. Because they live with these realities every day, they need help zooming out from minutiae, sorting through complex dynamics, and determining what their roles are in particular scenarios. In short, they need someone to draw them out of their overwhelm.

It is a joy and privilege when I get to help my coachees see situations from new angles, consider how they want to show up and what it will take to do that, strategize next steps, and realize the value of what they are already doing. This is what hope is – not wishful thinking, but the ability to see a clear way forward that had previously been obscured. This is the essence of what I work to offer my coaches.

Fantastic clergywomen, thank you for letting me be in your orbit. You give me hope.

Ready, set, fail

Confidence is the deep knowing in our hearts, minds, and guts that we can trust our skills and intuition. It’s essential to leadership in good times (when confidence comes more effortlessly) and particularly during challenging seasons, when it would be easy to turn up the volume on those internal and external voices of doubt. One of the reasons confidence is so important is that it doesn’t just affect our perception of our ability to do a thing, it also impacts our actual performance. Think about it: a gifted, faithfully-practicing violinist with flagging self-assurance will not play at nearly the same level as a musician with the same skills and experience but much firmer belief in herself.

How, then, do we build up this faith in ourselves? In The Confidence Code: The Science and Art of Self-Assurance – What Women Should Know, journalists Katty Kay and Claire Shipman propose that one of the best ways to develop confidence is to fail – fast.

[Record scratch.]

Wait, what?

Yep, this advice seems counterintuitive on its face. The prospect of failing is often what makes us doubt ourselves in the first place. Wouldn’t more failure lead to more uncertainty? As it turns out, no. Failing fast means trying several small-stakes ventures, knowing not all of them will pan out. These efforts can get us past the perfectionism that holds so many of us back, allow us to experience mini failures so that we can know the world will not end, and give us opportunities to flex a lot of different muscles so that we learn more about our own capacity.

Confidence – the kind we can develop, since we can’t control the genetic piece – comes from action, not overthinking. What, then, are some initiatives or interests you’ve been wanting to try out but haven’t yet gotten up the gumption? What are some small, immediate actions you could take in the name of exploration?

Sure, you (and others!) might find out you’re not good at something. That’s ok. You’re still a beloved child of God, imbued with the combination of gifts that made God say, “you are good.” You’ll find out something about yourself. You’ll start building your way up to bigger failures, which will set the stage for bigger successes and more visible roles. And I’ll be cheering you on along the way, because I know that your insight and your leadership deserve a larger forum.

Ready, set, fail.

Effective preachers

Recently Truett Theological Seminary at Baylor University published its list of the twelve most effective preachers in the English-speaking world. This roster was compiled from a national survey that garnered 179 respondents and based on criteria suggested by homiletics professors.

There are a number of issues with the list, as perceptive people in my social media feeds have pointed out. Some of the preachers do not serve a local church. (Powerful preaching – as judged by the criteria for this list – is easier when study and writing don’t have to be worked around the demands of full-time congregational ministry and the need for a fresh sermon every week.) Diversity in every measure is severely lacking. One guy on the list has been dead for nine months. And that’s just for starters.

I’ve seen some conversations about coming up with alternative criteria for making a list that more fully plumbs the depth and breadth of sermonizing. I really like this open-ended list I like from Nevertheless, She Preached, which recognizes that competitive preaching is not a sport that aligns with the gospel. I’d also like to tell you whom I think is an effective preacher:

You.

Why?

Because I know you work hard on your preaching craft, studying scripture and honing your delivery.

Because I know you minister faithfully to and alongside the people in your care, allowing their questions and concerns to provide the scaffolding for your sermons.

Because I know you make yourself vulnerable through your proclamation while taking care not to bleed all over the chancel.

Because I know you love your church enough to comfort and gently challenge from the pulpit.

Because I know you pray for the Spirit to work through your presence and your words, bridging the distance between what you have prepared and what each hearer needs to grow in faith.

Because I know you take to heart every word of feedback about your sermons – maybe too much so – earnestly wanting to improve as a homiletician.

Because I know that God is using you to bring the reign of God ever closer.

I don’t need a list to know all these things. In fact, I don’t believe the most effective preachers will show up on any wide-swath list. They are too busy doing the work of ministry in their own contexts. They don’t have time or use for being celebrities whose names will be well-known enough to be included on a nationwide survey.

I see you, your efforts, and their fruits. More importantly, your congregation and community see you. Carry on, effective preacher.

Ten commandments for welcoming your new pastor, part two

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Show your interim minister some love

I want to let you in on a secret. Interim ministry is extremely challenging. Here are a few of the reasons why:

The minister enters a stressed system. Pastoral transitions are never easy on congregations, no matter how amicable the last minister’s departure was. So unlike a settled minister, who (hopefully) comes into a church that is excited and unified behind the new leader, the interim comes into a swirl of confusion, strong feelings, and worries about what will happen to the congregation while it is without a settled pastor.

The minister has additional duties in addition to the regular pastoral responsibilities. Trained intentional interim ministers preach, lead worship, provide pastoral care, and attend meetings. On top of that they guide the congregation through a period of self-reflection and identity redefinition, which involves a lot of additional meetings, equipping of leaders, attention to process, and anxiety management.

The minister quickly grows to love the congregation, even knowing that the pastor-parish relationship will be short-lived. Your interim minister loves you like a settled pastor does and is invested in you. Yet for the transitional minister there is anticipatory grief built into the relationship from the outset.

The minister never gets a break from wondering about personal financial stability. Some interim terms of call are as short as 3 months with an option to renew while others are as long as 12-24 months. A transitional minister must always be looking for that next opportunity while staying engaged with your congregation for as long as it is feasible to do so.

The minister is often looked past by the congregation. You love your interim minister. You can’t help it – though the minister’s tenure with your church is time-limited, that person is still walking with you through the church year and your personal milestones, joys, and griefs. Yet you are understandably excited for the day when your congregation will have a “real” (settled) pastor. The interim minister gets this, but some days this reality is more painful than others.

Be sure and thank your interim minister for providing the leadership that allows your church to harness the opportunities of the transition time. And definitely throw a big party for your interim minister when your journey together has ended.

The necessity of encouragement

During the fall of my sixth grade year, I tagged along when my parents took my younger brother to sign up for rec league basketball. When we arrived, I shocked my mom and dad – and myself, for that matter – by declaring that I wanted to play ball too. I was bookish. I was freakishly short. I had never shown an iota of interest in anything athletic. To their credit, my parents only exchanged brief glances, asked me once if I was sure, and then filled out my registration form.

I was terrible at basketball, as it turned out. I wasn’t fast. I was clumsy. I had no arm strength, so I had to shoot free throws underhanded, which was humiliating. I also wore glasses – not the sporty kind – that required me to use a very sexy [snort] croakie to keep them from being knocked off my head. I put my hair up with a tie that had a tiny piece of metal on it and went into a game with newly-pierced ears, both mistakes that prompted the referees to stop the action on my behalf. (I had to change out the hair tie and put medical tape over my earrings to avoid harming self and others.)

That sixth grade season was not pretty on my part. The only points I scored that year were in one game, when my coach told me to camp out under our team’s basket and wait for my teammates to lob defensive rebounds downcourt to me so that I could (hopefully) hit an unguarded layup. But I was having the time of my life.

After the season I had an idea of what I needed to work on (everything) to get better. So I started conditioning. I shot baskets and ran ball handling drills for hours in the driveway. I attended camp at a university known for being a powerhouse basketball program in the NAIA. And I improved. I made my school team in seventh grade. I didn’t start, and I didn’t always see much playing time, but I persevered. In eighth grade I developed my arm. No more granny-style free throws for me – in fact, I was pretty reliable from three-point range.

But I was getting discouraged. I was working my butt off without seeing my efforts translate into playing time. I could shoot and play in-your-face defense, but my ball handling was still weak, and you can’t be 4’10” with a case of the fumbles and not expect to make gluteal indentations on the bench. Before my ninth grade season, with honors courses and all the homework that accompanied them piling up, I decided to focus on what I was best at – studying. I still traveled with the school basketball team as a statistician and played church league ball, but any hope of a varsity (or beyond) athletic career vaporized.

Several years later, I ran into my eighth grade coach. We caught up a bit, and then she said, “I wish you hadn’t stopped playing. With your work ethic, you could have been an All-American.”

Record scratch.

I mumbled a “thank you” and scooted out of there before my brain exploded. This coach had never told me that she saw my potential. I thought I was forever destined to be a benchwarmer, and to me Rudy is the saddest-sack movie ever made.

The coach’s statement was no doubt hyperbolic, and yet I wonder if I would have made different choices if I had been given a slow drip of encouragement. “Keep at it – you’re improving.” “You’ll get your chance.” “You work at least as hard as anyone else on this team, and everyone notices.” Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy with my life as it has unfolded. And it turns out I might have given up too soon on an outlet I was passionate about.

Everyone wants to know that he is not invisible, that she is valued. To be sincerely appreciated for who she is and what he does. To have her gifts-in-development called forth. This goes for loved ones, colleagues, volunteers, community leaders, and the people who serve our food and collect our trash and protect our neighborhoods and teach our kids. Intentional eye contact or a handwritten note plus specific feedback go a long way toward strengthening relationships and encouraging dreams in people who previously did not dare to entertain them.

Who around you needs encouragement this week, and how might you offer it? And who provides you with much-needed encouragement to keep moving forward? Thanks be to God for all of these people.

Dealing with the shoulds

Do you have a case of the shoulds? (I have a chronic condition that I struggle to keep in check.)

“I should finish this sermon before I go to bed.”

“I should visit my homebound member, even though I saw him two weeks ago.”

“I should count my calories more closely.”

“I really need to marinate on my response some more, but I should send this email reply now anyway because my board chair is expecting it.”

“I should go to that third evening meeting this week, regardless of whether I have much to add to the discussion.”

“I should tackle that pile of dirty clothes in the floor.”

I should…I should…I should. 

Now, there are a few worthwhile shoulds. I should eat more veggies. I should make an appointment with the dentist. I should be kind to everyone I meet. But in most cases, this is how I’d describe that big pile of should:

Originality: How do I know what I’m capable of if my life is ruled by shoulds?

Understanding: How will I grasp who I am, what my call is, and where others are coming from if I’m too busy doing shoulds?

Leisure: How will I ever get time to rest and re-center if I’m playing whack-a-mole with shoulds?

Deeper connections: How will I ever create time and space for knowing and being known by God and my loved ones if there’s always – and there is – one more should to check off the list?

Shoulds are loud, persistent, confidence-kicking tyrants. Next time a should pops into your head, ask:

Who says I should do this?

Why is it important to that person that 1) this get done and 2) that I do it?

What do my head, heart, and gut tell me about this should?

How will fulfilling this should help me be the minister, family member, friend, or person God has called me to be?

You are valuable, you are beloved, just as you are. You don’t have to earn it.

To ministers lying prostrate on their office floors

I have been there.

I have been bullied by power-obsessed parishioners, then gaslighted by a senior pastor who denied the bullying was happening.

I have been left with few advocates – whose voices were diluted in a sea of people who either actively opposed me or didn’t know what was going on – even as I was forbidden to advocate for myself.

I have been afraid of what would happen to my vocational future if I got let go and if I resigned, even as those were my only two options.

I have faded away into a congregation’s ether when no one wanted to announce my departure, because then the folks caught off guard would start asking questions.

I have endured a last lunch I didn’t want with a staff that refused to back me, at which the senior pastor poo-pooed my next steps in ministry.

I have worried about my family’s ability to pay the bills, having just purchased a home, when my income went away.

As I said, I have been there. And it sucks beyond words.

But this lowest point in my career was also the beginning of my rising.

I learned from the missteps I’d made while also refusing responsibility for others’ bad behavior. I continued the work of shifting my pastoral identity from a job title to my unchanged sense of call. The shape of that call deepened and sharpened, making the approaching points on my professional trajectory crystal clear. I sought training for those next steps, loading up my ministry toolkit. I was going to be more discerning, more wise, and more prepared emotionally and spiritually for the next opportunity to serve.

As a result, the years of ministry since I found myself prostrate on my office floor have been exponentially more fruitful than the years before that moment. I feel more creative and impactful and I’m having more fun.

Who knows? I might find myself facedown again. But I have learned that there is life after noting carpet impressions on my face. I will thrive again, God willing and with God’s help. You can too.

So, when you’re ready, peel yourself off the floor. Let others help you stand back up, because we don’t rise on our own. And follow your call from God into what is next for your gifted, amazing self.

Nevertheless, she persisted

She was warned that women could not hold positions of authority over men. She was given an explanation, straight from the Bible. Nevertheless, she persisted.

She was warned that women should not be assertive. She was given an explanation: she might be perceived as shrill. Nevertheless, she persisted.

She was warned that women should not show vulnerability. It was explained to her that she could be dismissed as soft or emotional. Nevertheless, she persisted.

She was warned that women should not lead in ways authentic to them. She was given an explanation, that women must lead like men to be taken seriously. Nevertheless, she persisted.

She was warned that women could not be both pastor and parent. She was given an explanation: the concern that women would not be able to live fully into both callings. Nevertheless, she persisted.

She was warned that women should not wear clothes, shoes, or makeup that would draw attention to their bodies. It was explained to her that such choices would not just be distracting to others, but possibly even prompt inappropriate thoughts. Nevertheless, she persisted.

She was warned that pastors should not also be people who acted on their own convictions in the public sphere. She was given an explanation, that ministers must not alienate the people in their care. Nevertheless, she persisted.

She was warned that women should not challenge assumptions. She was given an explanation, that they would make too many people uncomfortable. Nevertheless, she persisted.

Clergywomen – and women in general – have always been the recipients of status quo warnings and unnecessary or inaccurate explanations. Still, we persist.

Keep on keepin’ on, brave and beautiful souls. Our persistence embodies faithfulness, courage, hope, and beauty that the world desperately needs.

What you get when you call a clergywoman

Recently the Lewis Center for Church Leadership published a fantastic article about how congregations can welcome and support their female ministers. The piece speaks to some of the fears that search committees have when considering a woman for a ministry position. It also raises awareness about  the small but significant ways that clergywomen are treated differently than clergymen. In doing so, the post names and dispels many of the assumptions about women in ministry. With that slate clear, what can churches expect from their female clergy?

Clergywomen love Jesus. We are not in ministry for the money (most of us are paid less than our male counterparts) or the notoriety (the stained glass ceiling is real). And we definitely have not pursued this vocation because it is the path of least resistance. We’re here because we are drawn to the message and model of Christ.

Clergywomen know their scripture. For many of us, Paul’s epistles have long been used as a barricade to the pulpit. That means we’ve had to steep ourselves in the Bible, studying its words, arcs, and historical/cultural context so that we can be confident we’ve discerned correctly and so that we can be faithful in forming others.

Clergywomen have been vetted, then vetted some more. At every level of examination, someone is looking for a reason not just to exclude each one of us as individuals, but also to use our personal shortcomings (real or imagined) as grounds not to grant pastoral authority to any woman. If we clear these hurdles, you’d better believe we are capable.

Clergywomen have had their mettle tested. Women in ministry are criticized for our hair, age, fashion choices, voice, family situation, and many other variables that are irrelevant to ministry – and that men are rarely evaluated on. And the “acceptable” leadership style for a woman (in any professional field, really) falls in a miniscule range between too soft and too assertive. Experienced in dealing with discouragements around these matters on a regular basis, we are not easily scared off from the legitimate difficulties of church work.

Clergywomen have a deep, DEEP sense of call. Women have their calls to ministry questioned all the time. Sometimes it happens in plain talk (e.g., “I believe women should never teach men”), and on other occasions it manifests by such means as second-guessing, talking to a female pastor as if she is the speaker’s daughter or granddaughter, asking where the “real” pastor is, or using diminutive terms (Miss Laura, Pastorette). As a result, clergywomen check in with God about their calls on a regular basis, asking for guidance and courage to live toward the purpose we’ve been given.

Clergywomen are endlessly creative. When there are so many hurdles not just to serving faithfully, but also finding a place to serve to begin with, women have to call upon all our gifts. We can think beyond our assumed constraints because we must – and the church and her people are the beneficiaries of our innovation.

Many clergywomen are backed by a fierce tribe, which provides its members with wisdom and support. When a congregation calls a female minister, it gets the bonus of a magnificently insightful hive mind. (Note: if you are a woman in ministry who has not yet found her tribe, look for it! Here are two places to start. And as a coach I would be thrilled to be your encourager and thought partner via a coaching relationship.)

Imagine your congregation could find all of these qualities in a minister, plus the particular skills and graces of a ministerial candidate. What great things for God could you do together?

Being awake to - and beyond - Advent

Ah, fall. The crisp air cuts summer’s sweltering heat. The changing leaves make the world beyond our window look like a Bob Ross painting. Apple cider and pumpkinspiceeverything reawaken our salivary glands. Fall is, without question, the season when I feel most alive.

Fall holds just as much promise in the church world. The new program year begins. Children and youth promote. Offerings and attendance pick back up after the summer slump. And then…budget and stewardship season hit. Planning for the new liturgical year begins in earnest. And Thanksgiving (for many of us) brings complicated and exhausting gatherings with loved ones who understand neither our profession nor our politics. Our energy bottoms out just in time for the start of Advent, which for clergy is an all-consuming effort to see the baby Jesus into the manger. It’s no wonder we want to hibernate from Christmas Day through Ash Wednesday (which, mercifully, holds off until March in 2017).

It doesn’t have to be this way, though. We can be present to our congregations and our loved ones throughout the holidays, take a hard-earned break afterward, and still function fully in January and February. Here are a few ideas toward that end:

  • Get some vitamin D. The daylight hours during December are fewer than at any other time of year, and lack of sun exposure can have a big impact on mood and motivation. Try leaving the building at lunch or at least working by a window.

  • Go home. Studies show that productivity tails off after a certain number of hours worked, so you could be working longer hours but getting less done. (Horrors!) This season calls for some extra weekends and evenings, so grab some flex time elsewhere.

  • Look at each week through the lens of the Advent wreath theme. Ask yourself each day this week where you witness or contribute to hope, for example. Here are some questions to help you focus your thoughts.

  • Honor the scriptural narrative by trusting some of the season’s heavy lifting to unlikely people. Remember that Mary, a young, unmarried woman, would never have been so bold as to volunteer to birth and raise the savior of the world. Who in your congregation is capable of taking on responsibility, if you will only ask and trust them to do so?

  • Make time for people you love. Few people will remember you didn’t get all the readers for Lessons & Carols. Your family and friends will remember if they don’t get the pleasure of your company and the honor of your attention. Drink hot chocolate together, hop in the car to look at lights, and gather around Santa for a picture.

  • Remember that Jesus will be born whatever you do – or don’t do. God can work through our errors of commission and omission as much as through our gifts and passions.

  • Ease your way back in after Epiphany. Some things can’t wait, like new leader training. But consider what other pieces you can experiment with, delegate, or let lie fallow.

May your Advent be more full of wonder than of stress and exhaustion.

"I did a thing!"

“I helped with…”

“I was part of a team that…”

“I collaborated on…”

The ability to cooperate with others toward a shared goal is an essential – and sometimes underrated and underutilized – skill in a leader. Without it, we’re all a bunch of free agents who don’t have anyone to refine our ideas, pool our resources with, or tame our wild hairs. And humility, the underlying trait that makes cooperation possible, is a mark of a Christ-like life.

But. When we have done a thing, when we have created or supervised or equipped or stabilized or trained or written or founded, we must be able to own it. Not brag about it, but lay claim to it. And here’s why:

  • It’s the truth. Truth leads to trust among the parties involved, and trust leads to optimal individual and collective functioning.

  • We set others up for failure when we don’t acknowledge our role. If we don’t take proper credit, chances are that someone else will actively seek or passively receive it. Then those folks are given more authority and more responsibility – without the experience and know-how to draw upon.

  • We’ve got to practice presenting ourselves accurately to people who have power over our vocations. We must show that we can play well with others. But if we completely blend our leadership identity with that of the people we work with, search teams, judicatory leaders, and those who have the clout to recommend us for positions are left to wonder and assume about our personal capabilities. We miss out on opportunities, and others miss out on our leadership.

  • Our self-esteem suffers when we downplay our role. I believe that many people – especially we womenfolk – are generous with success but selfish with failure. By that I mean that if something goes well, it’s because of all of us. If something goes wrong, it’s because of me alone. When we fall short, we should take our lumps but also examine the larger context. When we triumph, we can reflect on how we contributed to the success as a means of grasping and building on our strengths.

  • It honors our God-given abilities and calling. We are each fearfully and wonderfully made to be certain people and do certain things. Because of how God equipped me, I was able to do a thing! Acknowledging our role, then, is testimony.

What, then, have you done this week, this month, this year? Make a list, then tuck it away for the next time you have an evaluation, need to fill out a profile, or feel down about your abilities. Pull it out and remember that “I did a thing!”