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.

You toil over your newsletter articles. You prepare diligently for meetings. Yet despite all your efforts, you are sometimes met with the following:

• Blank stares.

• “No one told me about this,” said with indignation.

• “Who was involved in this decision? No one asked me for my opinion,” said with hostility.

• Silence and disengagement.

You and I are bombarded with emails, voice messages, and social media contacts every day. So are the people we minister alongside. This means we should be even clearer and more concise in our communications than we think necessary. One of the areas we can eliminate ambiguity is in announcements and discussion. Which are we doing, providing information about something that has already been decided or inviting others to be part of the decision-making? What does that delineation mean for what details we share and how?

In You’ve Got 8 Seconds: Communication Secrets for a Distracted World, Paul Hellman helps readers think through these considerations in terms of risk and control. Announcements are low-risk and high-control for the leader. Discussion is high-risk and low-control. Within those two extremes there are combinations of these two approaches. Here is an example, from announcement to discussion:

• Our church will be starting a community clothes closet.

• Our church will be starting a community clothes closet because there is a need in our neighborhood for free, quality clothing for children and adults so that they can use their limited funds for other essentials and go to school and work feeling confident in their appearance.

• Our church will be starting a community clothes closet. How might we go about setting this up, staffing it, and advertising it?

• Interest in and need for a community clothes closet has bubbled up. What are your thoughts about this potential ministry opportunity?

• What need/potential ministry opportunity has been on your hearts and minds?

In ministry we are likely to tend more toward the discussion end of the spectrum. (Stereotypically, clergywomen lean this way more than clergymen do.) Every point along the range is needed at times. The trick is to know when to use which approach and to be clear about what input you are (and aren’t) asking for. Here are some questions to ask yourself when identifying your path forward:

• How would Jesus come at this kind of message?

• How acute is the situation?

• How much ownership from others is needed?

• Whose expertise do you need to have all the relevant data?

• How attached to the outcome are you?

• How is God nudging you and others?

Asking yourself all of these questions can help you firm up your approach to an issue, know how to show up for the announcement/discussion, and clarify what you’re saying and asking for. The result will be increased trust and more forward motion.

Moses’ trek to the top of Mount Sinai and his receipt of the ten commandments came up in the lectionary lately. Call it coincidence or divine timing, but I happened to be preaching that Sunday at a congregation that was two weeks away from calling a new senior pastor … and I had been invited to speak directly to ways the church could welcome her new leader. I took the Sinai commandments and translated them into practices to covenant around as this minister and this congregation began their journey together. Here are the first five:

1. Thou shalt keep God first. Relationships built on shared faith lead to fruitful mutual ministry, and that is the goal of the clergy-congregation bond. Invite God into all your plans for welcoming and interacting with your new minister, and your belonging to one another will get off to a fast start.

2. Thou shalt open yourselves to your new minister’s ideas and gifts. Your congregation no doubt has tried and true ways of being church together. You likely also have some traditions and practices that need either to be memorialized or revitalized. Your new minister will bring experiences, gifts, and fresh eyes to your church. Allow your minister to exercise them in ways that strengthen your witness, even if that means smashing a few idols in the process.

3. Thou shalt be mindful of how you use God’s name. Names – and the ways we use them – have power. Use God’s in heartfelt prayers for your new minister and your journey together. Try out using relevant adjectives for God in your devotional time: welcoming God, life-giving God, loving God, surprising God.

4. Thou shalt rest and urge your pastor to do the same. You are near the end of a long interim period, which tends to deplete a congregation’s energy. Take your hard-earned sabbath so that you will be rejuvenated for the mission God has for this church. And remember that your new minister, though no doubt excited to be with you, will likely be tired from all the physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual efforts that moving requires.

5. Thou shalt tend to your relationships with your new minister, minister’s family (if applicable), your current staff, and one another. Pay attention to people who are struggling with the transition. Be vulnerable with each other – this will build deep trust that you will rely on in the years to come.

Stay tuned for the other five commandments, coming next week.

A recent article in the Harvard Business Review highlights the ways different types of tasks are unevenly distributed in work environments. Glamour work encompasses highly-visible, big picture assignments that set the doer up for recognition and promotion. Office housework includes all the tasks that are necessary to keep things moving – such as taking notes, managing schedules, caffeinating colleagues, and making sure there aren’t science experiments growing in the office refrigerator – and that go largely unnoticed. Not surprisingly, HBR found that women and people of color are much more likely to find themselves stuck with this essential-yet-thankless work.

While HBR’s research was geared toward the business world, the same realities apply in ministry. Women and people of color often serve in positions that are more likely to result in lateral moves than in increased responsibility and credibility and the pay that go with them. One reason is socialization. We* are conditioned to be the ones to keep the trains moving. Others expect us to be good at it, which we often are. We have been encouraged to be humble, and we’re punished when we’re perceived as being braggy, bossy, or bitchy. Another reason is exceptionalism: when one of us manages to break that stained-glass ceiling, it’s because she is an extraordinarily-gifted anomaly.

Since many of us minister in systems where 1) we are called by laypeople rather than assigned by a superior and 2) judicatory leaders intervene into unhealthy and unjust systems infrequently, what do we do in order to claim more of those “glamourous” roles? Here are a few thoughts:

Maintain a robust web presence. On the internet we can communicate the fullness of our ideas without interruption. True, we might have to deal with trolls and mansplainers. But they cannot edit our original thoughts, which we can then share through social media.

Own your purpose. Clarify what you have been called to do, the strengths and qualities you have for that work, and the ways you have already been inhabiting the fullness of your call. This is essential to owning pastoral identity, which has a noticeable impact on your pastoral presence. This specificity will also help you sort what tasks – many of which likely fall into the office work category – to say no to.

Amplify one another. Even when we feel we can’t toot our own horns, we can toot someone else’s. Make a pact (spoken or unspoken) with other people who are going underappreciated to do this for one another.

Tell stories. If saying, “I did this thing and that thing and here’s how it was a rousing success” seems icky to you, work on your telling of an anecdote that relays that same information in a way that helps other people know and like you as they’re learning about what you’re capable of.

Ask for feedforward. The standard annual review can mix a negative tape that plays in your head for the next twelve months. Instead, help your leaders structure a conversation that helps you think about how you’d like to grow in ministry together, setting you all up for bigger and better things.

Network as much as you can. Go to conferences. Connect with people in the kinds of positions you’d eventually like to see yourself in. Look for committees doing transformational work to join.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the church is experiencing the pangs of something new as women and people of color struggle/begin to emerge from the background. The more even distribution of office housework and our ability to move into glamour roles will promote innovation, collaboration, and renewed faithfulness to the mission God has for us all.

*I can only speak personally from the perspective of a white woman. I am relying on the stats in the HBR article plus conversations and a range of reading to assert that people of color share some of these same experiences, likely amplified. I welcome dialogue and am open to correction.

I’m hearing of more and more churches designing succession plans rather that engaging in an interim period between lead pastors. (Before interim ministry was a specialty, this approach was common in some denominations.) I will admit my bias up front: I believe the time between settled pastors is an invaluable opportunity for reconnecting with the church’s history, understanding the congregation’s specific purpose anew, and making needed changes. I also think there’s huge spiritual transformation potential, because when there is no installed leader, the church has to lean harder into its faith in God’s presence and goodness.

If your church is considering a succession plan, I would urge you to discuss the following:

What are the reasons we want our next pastor in place before the current one departs? It’s important to be able to name motives beyond the desire to avoid the discomfort of the interim time and a lack of confidence in the congregation’s ability to do the work of the search.

In what ways will the current pastor be involved (or not) in the search for the next pastor? One of the functions of an interim time is to allow a congregation to find out who it is apart from the identity of the departing pastor. If the current pastor is permitted to influence the search process, your church will – for good and ill – continue to be strongly influenced by the outgoing pastor’s passions and personality.

What will the transition look like? How much overlap between the pastors will there be (and can you afford it budget-wise)? How will the responsibilities be shifted over the course of that doubled-up period? What agreements and rituals will you put in place for the eventual end of the current pastor’s tenure?

When will we build in time for self-reflection about God’s call on us as a congregation, and what will that process look like? Church mission/purpose statements evolve over time, and the interim is a natural period for re-evaluation. If there is no interim time, what conditions will you put in place to make sure this work happens so that your congregation continues to be as faithful as possible in its response to God’s call?

Calling and building a relationship with a new pastoral leader takes great intentionality, no matter what that minister’s start in the congregation looks like. Leave no question about process undiscussed, and let your choices be guided by faith in God rather than fear of the unknown.

My son loves school, but every morning it’s like we’re living 50 First Dates. He forgets how much he enjoys learning and playing with his friends until he actually enters the building. He yells at our Amazon Echo when it reminds him that it’s time to get dressed for school. He mopes while he picks out (at an excruciatingly slow speed) his mismatched clothes.

Recently I’ve been using a coaching technique that has helped everyone’s mood. I’ve been taking his complaint and using it to broaden his perspective. Here are a couple of examples:

Example 1

Alexa reminds him to get dressed.

Him: Your reminders are terrible, Alexa!

Me: Are they really that bad? Let’s play a game. We’ll take turn naming things more terrible than Alexa’s reminders. I’ll go first: dropping my ice cream on the ground.

Him: [Thinks.] A monster destroying Ninjago city.

Me: Getting a cold and missing something really fun.

Him: A baby penguin dying. [Yikes.]

After a couple more rounds, he was laughing and we were declaring each other winners of the game. He then got ready without complaint.

Example 2

Child is refusing to put on his school clothes.

Him: I don’t want to go to school today. Today is Saturday. I want every day to be Saturday.

Me: Hmmm. I like Saturdays too. What would you do on your perfect Saturday?

Him: [Lets me dress him while he talks.] I would watch the Ninjago movie and play Legos.

Me: That sounds fun! What would you eat for breakfast on your perfect Saturday?

Him: Fish and krill. [He was a penguin that day.]

By then he was dressed, and he penguin-waddled across the hall to brush his teeth.

In both of these examples, it would have gotten us nowhere for me to keep askyelling for him to get ready. We would have both been grumpy and started our respective days in a terrible headspace. But by taking his lead and using it as prompt for us both to think creatively, he felt heard and reoriented his focus.

I use this approach in my coaching. If a coachee gets stuck in a thought spiral – often around the worry that she is not an effective pastor – I ask a question to help her widen the view: “What’s the best affirmation you’ve received lately?” (Often this is not an explicit “thank you” but a realization that she has been invited into a tender place by a parishioner.) She realizes that she is making a difference in tangible ways. Or, “what is one change you’ve seen in the congregation since your arrival?” One small change opens the door to thinking about several ways the coachee has led the church toward growth.

This can work for clergy in their ministry settings too. Consider the following:

Church member: This [ministry initiative] won’t work.

Minister: Hmm. Ok. Let’s think about everything that could go wrong.

After brainstorming the possible catastrophes, probe why these outcomes are so undesirable. Then name all the potential positive outcomes and discuss, in light of these different visions of the future, what the most faithful next step is. With this approach, you can acknowledge the church member’s resistance, unearth some unspoken – maybe even subconscious – norms and fears, move toward agreement on action, and stop many of the parking lot conversations that sabotage change.

Perspective shifts are invaluable when there is stuckness. Next time you feel mired down, try opening up the conversation with a question, brainstorming prompt, or game.

Over the past several months, revelations of sexual harassment and assault have stunned many and brought to light the pervasiveness of abuse and silencing. The church has not escaped scrutiny, nor has it been acquitted of wrongdoing. In fact, abuse perpetrated by spiritual leaders against other staff or congregants has proven to be widespread. These realities have implications for pastoral searches:

Recognize there might be resume gaps that a candidate cannot fully explain. Sometimes survivors of sexual assault or harassment are compelled to sign a non-disclosure agreement to receive severance or settlement payments. (Some clergy depend on this money to make ends meet until finding a new call.) That means they cannot talk about their reasons for departing their previous position. On the flip side, ministers who have perpetrated abuse might leave their churches suddenly - and not have a compelling explanation - when allegations surface.

Do your due diligence. These days it is imperative to do an extensive background check on your candidate of choice. This search should – at minimum – include state and national criminal records. (Many congregations will also look for red flags in driving and financial records.)

Make no assumptions. If something your search team picks up on causes a question or hesitation, pursue it. You don’t want to weed out a great candidate if your gut reaction turns out to be nothing, and you don’t want to call a minister who has a history of abuse in the hopes that things will be different at your church. (Spoiler alert: abusers rarely change their ways of their own volition.)

Set up strong support for the new pastor from the outset. Help your minister meet other clergy and community leaders. Establish a pastoral support team. Encourage your minister to retain the services of a coach and to join or start a peer learning group. Pastoral isolation is a setup for boundary violations (whether as initiator or target) that alter the lives of everyone involved as well as the witness of the church.

Now that the truth of so much hurt is emerging, the church has a responsibility to acknowledge it and an opportunity to accompany the recipients of it through their healing.

I defied my junior high Sunday School teachers yet again on Sunday night. I went to a rock ‘n roll show, as the kids say. Well, kids of a certain generation, I guess.

My youth leaders specifically warned me about two of the three acts. Don Felder – FORMERLY OF THE EAGLES, as I imagine legal actions require him to clarify – sang “Hotel California,” which my teachers said was about drug use. (I never really understood the objection, since the song seems like more of a cautionary tale than a ringing endorsement.) Styx put on the best concert I’ve ever seen, but did you know that the Styx is a river that leads to Hades? (My Sunday School leaders whispered that “Hades” is another word for hell.)

I hated every millisecond of my Sundays in that too-small room with teachers who saw the world through the lens of fear and divided everything in it into good and bad camps. (I promised myself then that I would crank up and sing along to “Hotel California” every time it came on the radio, and I made myself a mental note to check out Styx, even though it would be another five years until I really got into classic rock.) The worst part of my “formational” experience in that setting, though, was that there was no room for questions. And as a teenager struggling with the difference between what I deeply felt to be true about Jesus and what I was being told at church, I had a lot of ’em.

My parents took my abject misery and my soul’s peril (as I refused to be baptized in this congregation) seriously, and we hopped around until we found a church that was a good fit for our whole family. There I made my pastor, many a youth leader, and my peers uncomfortable with my questions and pushback, but no one tried to shut me up. Bless those kind souls. They are one of the reasons I am in ministry today.

Now, I ask questions for a living. What a dream for a person with so many! I don’t ask these questions on my own behalf in my role as coach. I listen for what is going on in clergy and congregations and make queries that will help them come to their own realizations and reach longed-for goals. I cannot tell you how much I love this work.

Maybe it’s a curiosity mindset that the Eagles were actually referring to: “you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.” And why would I want to?

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.

As a teenager I had an unhealthy affinity for Lurlene McDaniel novels. She writes about young people who have chronic or terminal illnesses. There’s also at least one book about a high school girl dying in a car crash because she didn’t want her seat belt to wrinkle her new dress. These works of fiction were the perfect/worst possible match for my personality: generally anxious with a side dish of hypochondria. I cannot tell you how many times I convinced myself I had diabetes or cancer, thanks to the similarity of my “symptoms” with a Lurlene McDaniel character. I mentally penned my farewell letters and practiced my brave face in the mirror. (Truth be told, I still kinda do these things.)

Which is why I couldn’t wait to read/put off reading Kate Bowler’s Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Lies I’ve Loved. Bowler is an assistant professor of church history at Duke Divinity School who was unexpectedly diagnosed with incurable, stage 4 cancer in 2015. She is in her late 30s. She is a self-professed church nerd. As a Mennonite she is a proponent of believer’s baptism adrift in a sea of infant baptizers at her Methodist seminary. She has a young son. She has a close-knit, irreverent family. In short, I could relate to much of her story. And her humor…oh, how I love her wit.

But Kate Bowler is not a fictional character. She is a real person who is wrestling daily with what it means to inhabit the space between living the dream and actively dying. She is a real Christian who is struggling with her subconscious assent to the prosperity gospel – if you pray hard enough and are good enough, the world is your oyster! – and her fear that death means disconnect from her husband and child.

Bowler’s words did not hit me square in my anxiety. They did something that is rare for someone as head-focused as I am: wriggled their way into my most tender, most guarded inner self. They made me want to be less private and more honest. They made me want to dream about more than control my life. They made me want to love so deeply that I would feel grief acutely. Now, how to do those things…

I guess I don’t have to spell out that I recommend this book, as well as the accompanying podcast.

Thank you, Kate Bowler, for the beauty of who you are and what you share with the world.

During a recent webinar, a judicatory leader asked how I advise search teams with regards to reading through candidates’ social media profiles. It was a great question. Search teams should absolutely do their due diligence with internet searches, background checks, and conversations with references. However, there are some potential pitfalls when it comes to perusing candidates’ posts on sites like Facebook and Twitter. Here are some things you need to know when checking candidates out on social media:

Timing is everything. Consider – and agree upon as a search team – the best stage of the search for scrolling through candidates’ social media. If your team members do this too early, you’ll have a lot of information with very little context, plus you’ve made extra work for yourselves.

Litmus tests don’t tell you what you really need to know. What I believe personally about a political issue might not directly correlate with how I would respond as a minister in a situation related to that issue. Your search team might needlessly weed out some great-fit candidates by making the leap from the title of an article a candidate shares and that candidate’s pastoral approach.

Many pastors don’t maintain separate professional and personal profiles. If all of your candidates’ worlds collide on social media, then that candidate’s parishioner, mom, middle-school nemesis, and softball teammate are commenting on the same posts. Keep in mind that without careful monitoring and a touch of censorship, it is hard for the candidate to control everything these people from various venues and eras write – including about the candidate.

We live in politically-charged times. Many ministers have waded into previously untouched waters on social media because they feel strongly about current issues they believe are life-or-death. This takes courage and shows leadership.

Some ministers use their social media outlets as discussion boards. Pastors might deliberately post something provocative to get a robust conversation going – and their sermons and teaching will likely be more well-rounded for having sought out different points of view.

Everyone has done things they regret. And the younger the candidate, the more likely that moment was caught on camera and shared widely. Consider whether the incident inspired repentance and was a teachable moment, both for the candidate and for the people the candidate has led since.

Bottom line: if your search team reads through a candidate’s social media posts and finds something that raises a question, then ask that question – to the candidate. You will build communication, trust, and understanding instead of cutting a candidate loose based on an assumption.

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.

On Saturday my family returned from Disney World, a.k.a. The Happiest Place on Earth. (Ironically, more than once I overheard a parent using this slogan as a threat toward an overstimulated, beyond-exhausted child: “This is the happiest place on Earth, DANGIT, so start acting like it!”) I am glad for the opportunity my son had to fly on an airplane (a long-held desire), meet his favorite characters (he has always loved anyone in a costume), ride roller-coasters and spinny nightmares (which made him giddy), and see his first in-person fireworks (despite his initial terror that Cinderella’s castle was exploding). I am eternally grateful to my in-laws for making these experiences possible.

During our stay I was reminded of the complex relationship I have with all things Disney. As a forty-year-old, I have never known a world untouched by Disney, with all of its fraught cultural messages around gender, race, ethnicity, and other key identity markers. (If you’re not sure what I mean, see this list of more accurate Disney movie titles.) And Disney’s ability to turn anything into a moneymaker is unparalleled, building on and feeding a consumerism that I worry will be the eventual downfall of humankind. Not to put too dramatic a point on it, of course.

And yet I cannot argue with the hospitality that permeates the whole of the Disney experience. The church could learn a few things from this warm welcome. Rather than focusing on the consumerist side – how do we get people here and then entice them to come back? – that I think is the church’s default in the light of shrinking membership rosters and budgets, I want to encourage some reflection on how we notice and treat people when they come through our doors. Here, then, are some things that we as the church would do well to emulate:

The employees we encountered at every turn seemed happy to be there – and happy that we were there. Maybe you’ve encountered church greeters who look like they’ve just come from a root canal. Or members who glared at you for taking “their” seats. Or pastors who apologized from the pulpit for the sermon scripture or focus for that day. At Disney the bus drivers, security types, vendors, ride operators, performers – everyone – was smiling and helpful. That joyful tone created an expectation that I would be glad I came to this place on this day, no matter what kind of trepidation I came with.

Everything is set up from the visitor’s perspective. There is signage everywhere about directions, wait times, and events. Information is also available by hard-copy map, people stationed around the parks to assist, and an app for your smartphone. There are so many restrooms scattered around that you are never far from one, and the stalls are plentiful such that there isn’t much of a line. Contrast this approach to the one many churches take, in which everything is set up from the insider’s perspective. You’re just supposed to know which door to go in, what time worship takes place, and where the nursery is.

Language choices are given a lot of thought. Disney calls their employees “cast members,” giving them all – no matter their role – a stake in how the experience turns out. The people coming to the parks are not visitors or customers but “guests,” making it clear that they are to be treated as such. Language shapes the way we locate ourselves and others in an environment. What would change if churches called their volunteers “ministers,” which they rightly are by virtue of the priesthood of all believers? What if congregations referred to all newcomers as “guests,” seeing them as the people worthy of the most honor?

Despite my complex relationship with Disney, I came home from my trip tired and full of gratitude, thanks in large part to the welcoming aspects that Disney gives such careful attention. May it be so for those who enter our church walls.

Navigating search & call is complicated for clergy. There are so many variables in the process, and it’s hard to know much weight to give to each. I want to offer two things to those of you seeking a new ministerial position: a word of encouragement and a formula.

First, the encouragement. I believe there is more than one great-fit position out there for you. The pieces of ministry that give you life can be found in a range of congregations, and you have many gifts that will be well-leveraged in a number of places. I hope this assertion takes some of the pressure off as you weigh your opportunities, particularly when you are dealing with mismatched search timelines (e.g., should I withdraw from this process that I’m a finalist in to explore a relationship with another search team that is about to start initial interviews?).

And now, the formula. If you’re having trouble discerning what a great fit looks like for you, consider the visual below.

There are two overriding aspects of fit: vocation and circumstances. Vocation is your purpose in ministry, the essence of what God has called you to do. It is built on your inherent gifts, though we often pick up some learned abilities along the way. It is imperative that we as candidates have a strong sense of our vocation. Otherwise, everything or nothing will look like a great fit.

We live out our vocation in a particular context. That includes the church itself, the larger community/country, and the denomination. We must be paid fairly and provided adequate benefits to engage with the people in our congregation and beyond in healthy ways.

In a great-fit call, all four aspects of vocation and circumstance – a position that utilizes our passions and strengths and a setting we have the desire and means to connect with – must be present. If one is missing, we’ll be working hard emotionally, spiritually, and mentally to avoid frustration and resentment. When all four parts work in harmony, we will flourish, even if we sometimes have to remind ourselves to take time for self-care.

As you look at the diagram , what resonates with you? What questions does it raise? Where might you push back?

In churches that follow the liturgical calendar, this is the season of Lent, the forty days leading up to Easter (not counting Sundays). Lent is a period of reflection with the aim of clearing away the barriers to our relationship with God. We are better able to celebrate – and then to share the good news of – Christ’s resurrection if these spiritual obstacles have been dismantled.

In a sense the time between settled ministers is in itself a Lenten observance.

Both are times of preparation. There is something that is “not yet.” We wait for what is to come, but our waiting is active, engaged, purposeful. Our hearts need this time during which God makes us ready.

Both are times of wonder. “What is God up to?” is a primary question of this season, as is “Where can we join God in this work?” 

Both call for self-study. We look back at where we have been and what brought us to where we are now. We consider what forms us spiritually – what we want to hold fast to – and what distracts us from our relationship with God and thus needs to be culled.

Both are fraught with potential challenges. Lent and interim seasons are wilderness journeys. There’s real danger that we might double-down on the things that keep us from loving God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength and our neighbors as ourselves.

Both inspire humility – and awe. We realize that we cannot move faithfully into the future under our own power. That God is present even when we don't immediately recognize it. And that God’s love is pulling us forward toward a purpose that takes our breath away.

What would it take for your congregation to embrace the transition time as spiritual journey?

Yellow: it’s the color of caution. (That is, unless you live in Alabama, where it apparently signals blow every other car’s doors off trying to make it through this traffic light.) Yellow flag words, then, are verbal indicators of the need to probe for deeper meanings before moving further into conversation. If we don’t clarify these words or phrases, we can make mental leaps that quickly morph into misunderstandings. Consider:

“I can’t get that report to you by Friday.” This statement might seem clear on its face, but it could actually have several meanings, such as:

• I want to get the report to you, but I don’t have the time.

• I want to get the report to you, but I don’t know how to write it.

• I want to get the report to you, but I don’t know how to submit it.

• I don’t want to get the report to you.

If you’re the person counting on this report, imagine your response to each of these interpretations. Three of them are about barriers. A bit more discussion might reveal that you and the other person both value the work, and then you can brainstorm about ways to remove or maneuver around the obstacles. The fourth reply, however, would likely make your blood boil. The relational impact and the possible solutions vary widely based on which response the other person actually intends.

Some other examples of yellow flag words or phrases include:

• “I’m not ready to take that step.” (What does ready look like for you?)

• “I don’t feel supported in my decision.” (What kind of support are you counting on?)

• “When the time comes, I’ll know what to do.” (When will that be?)

When there’s ambiguity around the meaning of words, ask an open-ended question. You’ll find out what your conversation partner does and does not mean, and you might also prompt some new awareness in that person around the power of her verbiage.

An ounce of curiosity is much less costly than an assumption that escalates into unhealthy conflict.

Two weeks ago I began taking an eight-part course on the language of coaching. The class is designed to help participants learn how to harness the power of words for even more effective coaching. Last week we focused on distinctions: phrasing that illuminates the difference between two options or states of being. One of the distinctions we discussed was interest vs. solution. Interest is what I ultimately want to happen. Solutions are means of attaining that goal.

Sadly, during the time that we were in class, the latest school shooting was occurring in Florida. The deaths of 17 students, faculty, and staff provoked strong reactions, as they should. My Facebook feed began filling up with explanations for why these mass shootings keep happening – easy access to guns, parental failure, mental health issues, white supremacy, toxic masculinity, teachers not being armed, and the First Amendment, to name a few – and strongly-worded proposals for making needed changes. I watched as friends, family, and acquaintances doubled down on their positions when questioned. (Admittedly, I was guilty of this as well.) Conversations spiraled down or ground to a halt. Ain’t no knotty problems getting resolved this way.

Which is what made the distinction between interest and solution timely. If we start with our plans to eliminate the world’s ills, we will never get on the same page. There’s always a reason my approach is better than yours and vice versa. Before we can work together on the answers, first we must agree on the goal. For example, I have hardly seen mention of the fact that surely – hopefully – we can all stand on the side of protecting the lives of young people and the professionals who nurture them. When we understand that we’re all working for the same purpose, we gain trust in one another’s motives. We recognize our shared pain. We acknowledge that we are not alone in our efforts. That is a much more promising starting point. Then there’s potential for deep listening. For throwing out a range of solutions and then working together to improve them. For making legitimate progress toward the endgame we’ve agreed upon.

So I commit to identifying a shared goal with at least one person this week. Around what issue – and with whom – will you seek common ground in the next few days?

Do you ever feel like you can’t get around to the meat of ministry because you’re chained to email, constantly interrupted when trying to write or plan, or unable to get momentum on more mentally-intense projects due to the way your schedule is broken up by meetings?

You’re not alone. Most professionals struggle with distraction, making it harder for them to tap into the fullness of their gifts and to spend as much time as they’d like on the tasks they consider most important.

In Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World, computer science professor Cal Newport lays out his case for making time for uninterrupted work that pushes professionals to their cognitive limits and offers strategies for creating that space.

Newport’s suggestions have to be adjusted for ministry, because sometimes “interruptions” such as pastoral care crises turn out to be exactly what we need to focus on. But setting up a schedule and conditions for deep work will allow us to prepare sermons we feel good about with less strain, plan further out for liturgical seasons, create curricula trajectories and content, and flesh out new ministries. Without this intentionality, we’ll fill up our time with activities that are easy to cross off the to-do list and remain frustrated about all the “real” ministry we don’t have time to tackle.

Here are some approaches that might be worth mulling:

Build in and protect blocks of deep work. Set aside 1.5-4 hour blocks for bursts of undistracted work. Settle into a location that promotes good focus. Turn off your internet connection. (If you need it for your work, ensure that email and social media are off limits.) Ask your admin to come in – or allow others in – only if there is a pastoral emergency. (Be sure to clarify what constitutes an emergency, and tell your admin how this deep work enables you to minister better so that your admin can then repeat this explanation to others.)

Make a work flow. Plan for your day, assigning all of your deep and shallow work to time slots. When tasks take longer or shorter than expected or an unexpected ministry need arises, hold your schedule lightly and revise it for the rest of the day. The point is not to be rigid but to be intentional about how your time is spent.

Create start and shutdown rituals. Establish a pattern for entering your focused work time to signal your brain that it’s time to close down all the other tabs. When you are stopping work at the end of each day, go through a routine that tells your body and mind that you are bracketing work until tomorrow. (Your shutdown ritual might include a plan for completing remaining tasks so that you can rest in the confidence that everything will eventually get done.) Then honor the shutdown ritual, knowing that rest will allow you to reset fully.

Retreat for intensive planning periods. A couple of hours each day might not be enough to do medium- to long-range planning. Allow yourself to spend entire days (or multiple days) offsite for this work. Let others in your church know what you are doing and why, and be prepared to show your work. If you really want to settle in for deep focus, use study leave time and/or find pastoral care coverage.

Deep work allows us to give more fully into our calls. It also helps us remember what is important as opposed to what is urgent, and it reminds us that there are very few interruptions that cannot wait a couple of hours for our attention.

How do you build in deep work? Which of the suggestions above might you try?

Last weekend my family went to our first ever [insert fandom descriptor here]-con. For four hours we meandered around an exhibit hall, looking at everything God has ever made re-created with Legos. It was pretty amazing. There were entire downtowns. Moon bases, along with all the vehicles needed to reach them. Rube Goldberg machines. Assault weaponry. (Not my favorite, but works of art nonetheless.) Famous monuments. Celebrity portraits. All of these designs were made exclusively with tiny bricks, with the exception of a few stickers and motorized parts.

It struck me that there were some takeaways from Brickfest with applications for ministry, and I’m not just talking about the Lego Jerusalem temple that took up multiple tables.

Pay attention to the big picture and the minutiae. Depending on the personalities involved, it’s easy to default to one or the other, yet both are needed. Master builders must be able to see the brickwork on the side of one building, but in the context of the whole cityscape. Otherwise parts of the design will get out of proportion or the Legos will run out. The same is true for a congregation’s vision and its resources.

Sometimes you need just the right piece, but at other times several different bricks might do. There are so many different kinds of Legos, and I’m not just talking bricks. There are plants, cups, hats, ladders, fire, and goodness knows how many more kinds of accessories. For some design aspects, one particular piece in that certain color will add to the overall aesthetic, just like it’s important to get lay leaders into roles that align with their gifts and call. In other areas, a range of pieces – or people – could work.

Show as much of your work as you can. Transparency is essential to trust, which is a key to good ministry relationships. In the world of Legos, it’s easy to see what kind of and how many bricks were used in a design. Of course, there are always a few hidden threads – no one needs to know that the innards of your Lincoln Monument are red and green! – just as there are occasions when not every parishioner has to see how the ministry mettwurst is made.

Make ministry modular. Massive Lego creations have to be movable, so they are built in big chunks. Encourage your people to make their ministry portable as well so that the good news of God’s love travels far.

Know when to be serious and when to inject humor. While a Harley Quinn minifig would not have been the most appropriate choice to mill around the Lego temple, I took great delight in finding Batmen and Unikitties strategically placed in a downtown Nashville scene. Likewise, well-timed humor can bring a sense of play into an otherwise (too?) serious meeting or service.

Big projects take time, but the rewards are great. Some of the displays took no less than a year to create. Yet instead of sharing this fact ruefully, the builders took great pride in their investment. In the world of church, we often get bogged down in the length of our projects and processes. What if we could accept the timeline and – gasp! – enjoy the ride?

I wonder how we as ministry leaders might bring in actual Legos to our worship, work, and play to come to new awareness of these truths and to open up our thinking to new ways of being disciples. I think this would bring delight to our ultimate Master Builder.

Searching for a new call is hard. Congregations are eliminating positions due to shrinking budgets. Systemic inequalities make it difficult for some candidates to get a good look from search teams. Call committees often don’t understand how covenanting with a clergyperson is different from hiring an employee.

And those issues don’t even address the mental, spiritual, and emotional toll of the search process on a candidate. In a previous post I described psychologist Martin Seligman‘s three Ps – personalization, pervasiveness, and permanence – and the ways these shame responses show up in congregational life. They also manifest in powerful, potentially debilitating ways in search & call. When a candidate hears “no” over and over, she can begin to think that:

• the problem is on her end (personalization),

• that every call committee will see her supposed unworthiness (pervasiveness),

• and that she will be stuck in this vocational purgatory forever (permanence).

The three Ps can suck any energy for a minister’s search and for her current position in a hurry. Let me assure you that you are a gifted and called minister and that with time you will find a great fit. I really believe that.

So now you feel confident and ready to hit the interview trail again, right? Yeah, I didn’t figure a positive word from me alone would make the difference, even though I truly, deeply mean it. Then let me propose a few ways to combat the three Ps and their pernicious effects during that trying search season.

• Pray. Make sure your search is deeply rooted in your relationship with God.

• Seek encouragement from people who know you. Spend time regularly with a friend or small group that recognizes and affirms your many talents. Getting an attitude boost from those who cheer us on can help when it feels like we’re hearing a lot of rejection.

• Approach every interview as an opportunity to network. Not every church will extend a call to you, but with every encounter you expand your exposure and gain invaluable interview experience.

• Debrief interviews. Set a timer for 15-30 minutes to mull what you thought went well, where you felt hesitant, what questions bubbled up in you during the interaction, and what your prayer is going forward.

• Ask for feedback from search teams. Did you get a no from a church you were excited about? See if the search chair will give you a few pointers based on your time with the team.

• Focus your search. Have you been scattershot with your search approach? It might seem counterintuitive, but it could be time to cull your options. Create a one-sentence mission statement and self-refer only to those congregations whose positions would allow you to live well into that purpose. You’ll be better able to explain why you’re a good fit – and you’ll be much happier if you end up going to that church.

• Work on telling your story. Of the parts of the search process we can control, none is more important than good storytelling. Refine your paperwork, making sure you have included action words and vivid examples. Think before interviews about what you want to be sure a search team knows about you by the end of the hour. Role play with a colleague. Spend time picking out an interview ensemble that tells the story you want.

• Remember that you were called before, and you will be called again. If you are serving or have served a church, a search team has seen and responded to your gifts. It will happen again! (For years I held onto my first congregation’s newsletter that announced my call for this very reason.)

The church needs you, your gifts, and your call. Hang tight – a great fit is out there.