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.

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.

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.

Pastors are some of the last true generalists. Their day-to-day work is rich and varied, which is one of the aspects of ministry that is most appealing to some clergy. A pastor is:

• A proclaimer of scripture, interpreting the meaning of ancient texts for our modern lives

• A spiritual caregiver who accompanies people through life’s celebrations and devastations

• A face of the church to the larger community, building a two-way bridge over which people can cross to connect with those similar to and different from them

• An equipper of people as they discover and utilize their gifts and live into God’s calls on their lives

• A leader or facilitator of important conversations and processes about faith and being the Church

• The holder of a bigger picture, a vision into which the congregation is attempting to live

• An administrator of details related to that larger vision

Aren’t we lucky to have leaders who are made for this kind of compassionate, hard, life-changing work?

Now, the list above is not comprehensive, and pastors do the work above in varying percentages according to their contexts, strengths, and staff situations. But it’s a good start, and I offer it in order to contrast it with what a pastor is not:

• The savior of a church

• The receptacle for a congregation’s anxieties

• The person who gets yelled at because someone can’t say what they feel to the person they’re actually mad at

• The paid help that does all the ministry (or even non-ministry tasks) church members don’t want to do themselves

• A scapegoat for conflict or for the numerical decline of a congregation

• A one-person planner and implementer of strategies to attract young people

• A warm body to occupy the office 40 hours a week so that she is there whenever a person wants to drop by and shoot the breeze

• A compensated buddy

• A referee of political or personal conversations

• Someone to make people in the pews feel comfortable and finished in terms of their theology and contributions to the world

There is so much upheaval in the world that we’re all looking for a person, a practice, or a perspective that seems solid, and leaning on pastors in list #2 ways feels like it could be that thing. The effects of doing so are significant, though. Clergy aren’t just thinking about leaving their current congregations. They are contemplating leaving ministry altogether, because they don’t feel free to pastor in the ways they’ve been called. And that in turn leaves congregations without the spiritual guides they need, thereby lessening the possibility of faithful meaning-making, deep connection with fellow disciples, and real transformation.

Mercifully, there is grace for us all when we disappoint and are disappointed by one another. And, I urge church folks to consider thoughtfully the ways you interact with your pastors. Let them love and lead you. (And love them in return!) Let them challenge you, because in that gentle nudging is the promise of spiritual growth and richer relationships with others made in God’s image. Let them invite you into mutual ministry, because ministry is not the work of the paid staff alone. If you open yourself in these ways, you won’t want or need your clergy to fulfill list #2, and you will be journeying arm-in-arm with your pastor closer to the heart of God.

Photo by Florian Schmetz on Unsplash.

Last week I shared one of the biggest challenges that the Church faces in this season. Today I’m sharing one of the other hurdles I’ve noticed in coaching calls and informal conversations with pastors and lay leaders: the Church’s tendency to operate out of scarcity rather than abundance. This scarcity mindset takes many different forms. The pressure to grow (usually defined numerically), whether from within the congregation or from the judicatory or denomination, arises from comparison with the church down the road and anxiety about survival. This causes congregation members to become mired in nostalgia for an earlier era when Sunday School classrooms were bursting at the seams with children or to pitch ideas for programming that are ill-suited to the congregation’s demographics, person-power, or theological commitments. Ironically, this worry about not being or having enough creates insularity and suffocates the imagination and willingness to experiment that could potentially result in growth in terms of spiritual formation and impact in the larger community if not nickels and noses. Instead, congregations hold tight to ministries that need to be celebrated and ended well so that something that better fits who the church is now can bubble up. 

This scarcity mentality takes its toll on members, who become discouraged or exhausted from being tasked with more responsibilities as the overall membership ages and decreases. It is particularly hard on leaders, both laity and clergy, who carry the weight of the church on their shoulders. Certainly pastors too often become the hired hands who absorb all the tasks that others don’t want to do or don’t feel capable of doing instead of being set free to be spiritual guides and partners in ministry. When their to-do lists are an endless scroll, these clergy feel guilty about self-care and time away, and they spiral toward burnout. 

I believe we need an orientation re-set. We need to train ourselves to look for individual and collective gifts, defined very broadly. What talents are represented in our congregation? What relationships with the community do we have? What are people in the church knowledgeable or passionate about? What tangible assets do we possess? What infrastructure do we have in place for efficient use of all our blessings? What compelling stories do we tell about our experiences of faith? When we have a bigger sense of all that God has blessed us with, we can begin to dream of new possibilities. And when we dream, we can conduct holy experiments, calling our efforts just that. We can more intentionally build in times to reflect on what we’ve learned about ourselves, our neighbors, and God and whether we want to continue this trial with some tweaks or pursue another holy experiment. The learned helplessness begins to dissipate. We reconnect our programming with outreach and spiritual formation. We discover our potential and find our niche in our contexts. We help bring about the peace of God’s reign. (This e-book can help you assess, discern, and plan for experimentation.)

I believe we can solve the problems of not knowing and talking honestly with one another as I detailed last week and of being stuck in scarcity thinking. I think making progress on one of these issues can move us forward in the other. And I know that sometimes it takes someone outside of the system to help with either or both challenges. That is why I love the work that I do. If I can facilitate conversation that will help your congregation overcome these hurdles, please contact me.   

Photo by Felicia Buitenwerf on Unsplash.

Pastoral turnover is happening, and more is to come. Part of this is due to normal cycling in the mutual ministries of clergy and congregations. Much is related to the stresses ministers experienced during the pandemic, when they were called upon to take on more responsibility (and sometimes authority) than ever before, often with less support. These shifts created fissures or widened pre-existing ones in ways that now seem difficult to bridge as Covid continues, particularly in pastors’ exhausted states.

Whatever the cause, if churches and their leaders are parting ways, it is essential to conduct an exit interview. This kind of meeting offers the pastor closure and provides the church a wealth of insight that it can use for discernment during the transition between settled leaders.

Here are some considerations when planning a fruitful exit interview:

Framing

It’s important that the leadership group setting up the exit interview sees the departing pastor's insight as a gift, a way to get a head start on the church's self-assessment work in the interim time. Pastors can view their full participation as one of their final acts of care and leadership for the congregation. This mutual understanding sets the table for a productive, even if at times difficult, conversation.

Timing

Set aside ample space in the last couple of weeks of the pastor’s tenure. If the exit interview is too early, the minister might not feel comfortable being completely forthcoming, and if it is after the pastor departs, she might not have the same level of investment in giving complete answers.

Parties involved

Typically exit interviews are conducted by the personnel committee or other leadership team to whom the pastor goes to ask questions or express concerns about how the mutual ministry is functioning. You might consider inviting a third party to facilitate this conversation, particularly if you think the conversation might become contentious. Judicatory leaders, pastors of nearby churches, coaches, or consultants could fill this role.

Clarity about confidentiality

All participants in the exit interview should decide together how the information gleaned can be used. Who can take notes, and where will they be stored? What pieces can be shared, and with whom? Gaining agreement in these matters builds trust in the process, making it more likely that the church will glean useful knowledge.

Questions to ask the pastor

• What were your hopes when you started your ministry here? In what ways were they realized? What made that possible? In what ways were your hopes not realized? What were the contributing factors?

• How would you describe the initial welcome our church offered you (and your family, if applicable)? How did that welcome affect your ability to minister alongside us?

• What goals did you set for your leadership during your time here? What made living into them more or less possible?

• How would you describe the support and encouragement you received from our church for your leadership? For you personally? What was the impact?

• Where do you see untapped potential for our congregation? What do you think is the biggest barrier to living into that potential?

• What do we need to celebrate about our ministry together? For what do we need to forgive on another? In what ways might we go about both?

• What has been left hanging in your ministry that we need to attend to in your absence?

• What else is it important that we name in this space?

After the exit interview is over, the church must not simply stick the fruits of it in a drawer or argue with what was said. Instead, ask, “What does it say about us, in delightful or challenging ways, that our pastor feels this way?” This is a solid step toward transitioning to a new season of leadership with hospitality, direction, and faithfulness.

Photo by Michael Jasmund on Unsplash.

When I started my coaching practice eight years ago, there was so much I didn’t know. I’d gotten my initial coach training and was seeking more, and I was eager to work with coachees. I was guessing about almost everything else, though. A few of my many questions were:

• How do I find people to coach?

• What are reasonable goals to set for myself?

• How do I manage my time and energy so that I can still parent and do my other job that pays a steady income as I build my practice?

• What are the logistics of getting paid when I don’t have an employer cutting me a check every two weeks?

• How much labor do I give away for the exposure?

• How do I find my distinct voice and approach?

• How do I get my arms around all the tasks I have to do now that I’m a solo practitioner instead of part of a staff or surrounded by volunteers?

• Who will want to know what I’m up to?

• When will I feel like A Coach and not just someone who happens to coach?

• How will I know this venture is sustainable?

There was a lot of shuffling my way along, of trying and reflecting and then trying again.

Maybe you can relate. Maybe you want to establish a coaching, spiritual direction, or counseling practice; start a retreat center; create art that connects us to each other and God; write prolifically about things that matter deeply; take the speaking or preaching circuit by storm; or do something amazing that no one else has even conceived of yet. I want to help you offer your voice and your gifts to the church and the world. We need you!

That’s why I created a new e-course, available now on the Teachable platform. If you a clergywoman who wants to show up in ministry in a way that is new to you, carve out a space for yourself in ministry that doesn’t yet exist, or meet a currently unmet ministry need, this course can help you lay the groundwork. Starting with naming your purpose as a person and as a pastor, Called to Create: Becoming a Ministry Entrepreneur utilizes short videos and worksheets to take you through the tangible and intangible considerations in designing your new ministry venture. Click to see the titles of all the lectures and to preview the first couple for free.

Called to Create is available for $59 during the month of June. (On July 1, the price goes to $79.) As a bonus, anyone who purchases the course gets a discount on an initial coaching session. Happy creating!

By now many clergy have been introduced to the good work of the Nagoski sisters on burnout, which they define as emotional weariness, the inability to give a crap anymore, and the persistent sense of yelling into the void. The Nagoskis talk about completing the stress cycle as a way to avoid the desire to collapse in a heap or run like your hair is on fire in the opposite direction from your current one. This means going all the way through the feeling (once you’re safe from the stressor itself) instead of stunting the emotion. If you haven’t read Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle, I highly recommend it. The book offers some practical tips for mitigating a persistent problem for people, and particularly women, in the helping professions.

But even as I read Burnout, there was something nagging at me. It wasn’t until reading a recent piece by culture study author Anne Helen Petersen that I figured out the issue. When we talk about burnout, we largely frame it as a personal problem: we need to set good boundaries and take better care of ourselves. And while that is absolutely true, completing stress cycles alone will not fix what I think is weighing heavily on so many ministers - demoralization. Petersen quotes an article on teachers by Doris Shapiro:

“Demoralization occurs when teachers cannot reap the moral rewards that they previously were able to access in their work. It happens when teachers are consistently thwarted in their ability to enact the values that brought them to the profession.”

Many teachers approach their vocations as callings, just like pastors do. And I see a direct connection from the difficulties teachers have faced during and even before Covid to those clergy are reckoning with. Yes, ministers work too much and bear responsibility (though not sole responsibility) to tend to their physical, mental, emotional, relational, and spiritual health. But underneath all the stress is a bigger problem, which is that pastors were called to partner with God in transforming lives and communities, and many of the people in our pews mightily resist even the smallest of changes. That is neither a personal problem nor an easy fix.

We cannot control what those in our care do. They might not ever change, and if that’s the case, it might be time to move on. But we can adjust how we show up as leaders and what questions we ask so that we invite our people to consider new modes of being and operating. We can do what some see as “soft” work but is actually wisely playing a long game, building the trust, spiritual muscle, and imagination required to make permanent changes. We can start with curiosity, simply saying, “Tell me more” or “What’s important to you about that?” We can bring in spiritual elements, musing aloud, “I wonder what God is up to in this.” We can incorporate regular reflection as individuals and teams to celebrate what we’ve done well and learn from our mistakes, taking the sting out of “failure” in the process. If we take this posture with our congregations, it might just initiate incremental experimentation that can pick up momentum.

Teachers, unfortunately, have limited say in curriculum standards, teaching methods, and learning benchmarks. Pastors have much more freedom. Let’s leverage it, encouraging and noticing a widening gap between what we’ve always done and what is possible so that we all can live fully into our callings and not become mired in the quicksand of demoralization.

Photo by Luke Porter on Unsplash.

By sheer force of demographics, there is likely to be a big wave of pastoral retirements in the next few years. That number will be augmented by the strain that the pandemic has placed on clergy. After navigating the tensions around safety precautions and noting that some version of online ministry is here to stay, many pastors who have the financial means will, understandably, decide that the time is near to enjoy the fruits of their labors and spend more time with people they love and activities they haven’t had time for previously.

This retirement can be a celebration, a forward-propelling moment for both the pastor and the church. When clergy retire with intentionality, it

• Allows the ministry pastor and congregation undertook together to carry forward

• Shows care for the church

• Gets the departing minister in a good head and heart space for what’s next

• Helps set a helpful tone for the transition period, including the pastor search

• Strengthens congregations’ connections to bodies itself useful in the transition and beyond

• Paves the way for next minister to get off to a smooth start

• Can be spiritually transformative for all involved

In short, pastors can do as much leading in the ways they retire as in all their time leading up to their departures, setting themselves up to enter a new chapter with fulfillment and hope. Thoughtfulness, though, is key. That’s why I’m introducing a new coaching package for those clergy who are considering retirement. Over a series of 6 one-hour sessions, we will develop a plan to address the Ps of finishing well:

• Processing. What aspects of your identity are bound up in being a pastor, and what might be some healthy ways to have those needs met in retirement?

• People. How can you show grace to those you’re leaving behind?

• Priorities. What big picture pieces are you holding that you need to follow through on, pass to others, or set aside?

• Preparations. What logistics need to be tended to and by whom to pave the way for a good transition?

• Promotion. Whose voices, inside the congregation and beyond, need to be heard now in order to broaden the church’s imagination about what will be possible after you leave?

• Personal planning. What financial support will you need in retirement, and where might you find it? Where will you continue to find purpose, routine, and support once you are no longer the pastor of your church?

The cost for the six sessions plus a planning sheet organized by the 6 Ps of retirement planning is $900, and you can schedule a free exploratory call to talk about through your questions and hopes for retirement coaching here.

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

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

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

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

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

How might we reach out to support other women?

Who needs our encouragement? How might we give it?

Who needs recognition? About what specifically?

Who might we amplify? How might we do that?

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Carl Nenzen Loven on Unsplash.

When school was closed temporarily last March, I didn’t think I could handle it. I love my child more than my own life. And, I didn’t want to be his primary teacher. I didn’t know what first-graders were supposed to learn in the year of our Lord 2020. I also needed him to be out of the house so that I could work and get my essential introvert time.

When school was called for the rest of the year, I curled up in the fetal position.

One year later, it is astonishing to me that he’ll return to a classroom in the fall and that I’ll probably feel ok about the safety of it. On the virtual school mornings when we are frustrated with each other (these occur often, by the way), I dream of August 10. The rest of the time, though, I’m sad about sending him back. I have learned a lot from his resilience and adaptability. I have delighted in midday snuggles. I have laughed at the stand-up comedy routine he’s developed and shaken my head in wonder about everything techy he’s taught himself to do while he’s been at home. I am relieved that his quirky spirit and big dreams remain intact, uncrushed by teasing peers and unimaginative adults.

Sending my child back to school isn’t the only part of the world re-opening that I’m not too sure about. It’s been fantastic not worshiping in the fishbowl as a clergy spouse. I have not missed the seasonal flu one bit. Though there was a brief stretch when I lamented not traveling for work, I’m not looking forward to the prospect of having to do it again. And my beefs are small compared to many others.’

There’s a lot we have lost this year, individually and collectively. It’s vital that we process our reactions to it all. But I don’t hear many people talking yet about the grief that awaits us when we emerge from lockdown. Any change, even one that is largely for the better (and a world not held captive by Covid-19 is of course a positive change) brings grief. If we’re not ready for it, it will knock us on our butts. If we feel shame about it - why am I down when everyone else is celebrating? - we will replace physical isolation with its emotional and relational cousins.

With regard to clergy specifically, I hear anticipatory grief about what the After will mean for their vocations. They have pivoted and innovated, and what has not been ideal has nevertheless become familiar. What will it mean to leave the safety of this new familiar? If the church tries to make them pull double duty, continuing online ministry while leading in-person versions of the same events, they will burn out. If the church tries to forget the last year and all its lessons, grasping for a pre-pandemic iteration that was already in need of rethinking, they will not abide it.

Grief points us to what we value. Don’t ignore it. Don’t try to process it alone. Instead, let’s listen to and learn from it. If we allow it, our grief will be an unforgiving but invaluable teacher about how we can move forward together with faithfulness, grace, and intention.

Photo by Karim MANJRA on Unsplash.

In last week’s post about impostor syndrome, I focused on how we arrived at our current spheres of influence. This week I invite reflection on what we’re doing with what we’ve been given. Impostors don’t typically have a (positive) effect with much depth or breadth. They can’t, because their energy is too self-focused: how do I continue to impress? Who is about to get close enough to see the real me? How do I use sleight of hand to prevent that? It’s true that we might ask similar questions of ourselves sometimes. But if we retain a heart for service, an outward orientation, we can have a big impact even when self-doubt gnaws at our inner being.

Consider, then:

What gifts do we bring to our settings, including the ways that we show up?

What does our ministry allow our settings to do that they couldn’t otherwise?

Where have we seen God at work through us?

Answering these questions is a spiritual discipline, an act of gratitude and connection.

I encourage you to create some sort of visual of your impact. Maybe it’s a list of all you bring to the settings you inhabit. Maybe it’s a painting or drawing that illustrates the gift of your presence. Maybe it’s a literal box with a bow on top and slips of paper inside that name all that you are and do, placed strategically where you can see it when needed. Pray over your visual, offering gratitude to God for your authentic self and asking for the courage to live it in ways that serve justice and peace.

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

Photo by Jess Bailey on Unsplash.

It’s pretty easy for me to sit in front of my computer and assure you that you are not a fraud. I know as a fellow impostor syndrome sufferer, though, that it might be a lot harder for you to receive and internalize that word. For the remaining weeks of this blog series, then, I will offer reflection questions so that you can work through the logic for (for those head-oriented folks like me) and root it more deeply in your feelings about (for those of you who are heart-focused folks) yourself.

Impostors are people who can’t show their work. Even as we cultivate awareness of our privilege and acknowledge that we’ve probably had a few lucky breaks along the way (Or were those moments of good fortune divinely orchestrated? God only knows.), let’s think about how we got where we are.

Who are the people who invested in us along the way?

What was it they saw in us that caused them to invest?

How do we know we were called by God?

What work did we put in ourselves?

I’m willing to bet that if you spend some time with these reflection points, you’ll see that you’re not in your current role by accident or deceit. Instead, you’ll have a broader sense of how God has been at work in and around you all along, beckoning you to join in the good work of building God’s reign.

We honor those who have believed in and helped us as well as the image of God within by rightly seeing ourselves. Close your eyes, then, and allow the faces of your supportive mentors and family members, friends and teachers, leaders you’ve known and role models you’ve never even met, to float up in your heart and mind. Remember their instruction and encouragement. Think back to your experience of call, whether it was a sudden realization or a slow revelation. Physically tuck all of these experiences into your pocket or press them to your heart so that you can carry them with you. They are God’s own acts of care, spoken and lived through others.

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

Photo by Vlad Bagacian on Unsplash.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Daniel Schludi on Unsplash.

You did it!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Moritz Knöringer on Unsplash.

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash.

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

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

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

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

• coaching and encouragement around the negotiation process.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am in awe of you.

And I want things for you:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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