Artificial intelligence is here, and someday the robots might come for us just as Sam Waterston warned. In the meantime, we need to figure out what AI can do and shouldn’t do for us.

This is true in the church world as well, so on a lark, I randomly chose an AI generator from a web search. This particular site produces mission and vision statements for a range of industries. All I had to type in was “church,” then choose a tone (inspirational), then select “generate.” Here’s what came back:

Vision:
To create a welcoming and inclusive community where individuals can find hope, inspiration, and spiritual growth, empowering them to make a positive impact in the world.

Mission:
Our mission is to spread love, compassion, and faith by providing a place of worship, guidance, and support for all individuals seeking spiritual fulfillment. Through inspirational teachings, uplifting music, and meaningful connections, we aim to inspire and empower our congregation to live a life of purpose, kindness, and service to others. Together, we strive to create a world filled with love, peace, and harmony, guided by the teachings of Jesus Christ.

It’s truth-telling time. How different do these statements sound from your church’s mission and vision statements? Probably not much. Most guiding statements tend to be aspirational and vague. And that’s why I’m becoming more convinced that they are not the most helpful touchstones for congregations. Leaders expend vast amounts of energy and time (and sometimes big money on a consultant) coming up with a vision and mission…and then the robots instantly manufacture something almost as good. This is one way AI is useful: it’s telling us we’re not putting our resources into efforts with the biggest impact.

Here’s what I’d like to see churches work toward instead:

A helpful story of our congregation. A church can have many narratives about how it arrived at the present moment, and they all might ring true to varying degrees. Not all of them will be useful in terms of seeing the congregation as part of Christ’s body and God’s ongoing work in the world, though. Often we need to be more thoughtful about how we understand and share about our church.

Core values. These can be lived or aspirational, as long as there is clarity about which is which. Brene Brown’s values exercise is a useful one for both individuals and organizations. Naming a church’s story can also illuminate what it is about. What are our non-negotiable commitments that without them, we wouldn’t be us? What ways of being are we trying to incarnate with God’s help?

Seasonal plans based on these values. Covid obliterated what little confidence I had left in 5-10 year strategic planning. Churches need to be more nimble and responsive. (Exceptions include such initiatives as capital campaigns. These too, though, must be deeply rooted in values.) What is God inviting our congregation’s focus to be for the next 6-18 months?

Another kind of AI: appreciative inquiry. Congregations and their surrounding communities are full of individual and collective blessings from God, some tapped and others untapped, that could be put to very positive use in the name of living out values and focus. These gifts change as people come and go and as circumstances change, so they need to be inventoried on an ongoing basis.

Means to assess whether the congregation is being faithful to its core values. This is everything from whole-ministry assessments to individual event debriefs to mutual ministry reviews with staff. How are we stewarding our gifts well in service to the nudges from God we’ve discerned? What adjustments do we need to make?

A congregational covenant. We are people of relationship, because our Trinitarian God embodies connection and also seeks kinship with us. How we interact with one another needs to reflect this, but as mere mortals we benefit from reminders of what healthy bonds look like. We can name and agree to intentional behaviors and attitudes, then establish regular opportunities to recommit to them.

All of these tools are more practical and customized than mission and vision statements, and we shouldn’t trust them to artificial intelligence. Consider how you might stock your congregation’s toolkit with them.

Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash.

Note: the blog is moving to Substack! I will cross-post articles here and there in September, then post only on Substack from October onward. You can find me here on Substack.

Recently I was talking with a coachee who is leaving her current call. “I’m exhausted,” she said. “No one tells you how tiring it is.” She wasn’t referring to all the mental work of details she’s preparing for her successor or the physical efforts involved in cleaning out the books and files she’s accumulated over a long tenure. (Those are very real too, though.) She meant the grief work - her own and others.’

So let’s talk about it.

It is emotionally taxing to manage the time between when a pastor announces a departure and when the exit actually happens. You are feeling a range of emotions, and so are your parishioners. You might be deeply sad to say goodbye to some people you’ve grown to love. You might feel relieved to leave behind those who have antagonized you or taken up a disproportionate amount of energy. You might be thrilled to go to a new challenge or to take a much-deserved, much-needed break. You might feel scared because you don’t know what is next. You might be miffed that people seem largely unaffected by your news.

On the church members’ end, they might be excited for new opportunities for you. They might feel lost and anxious because they have benefitted so much from your ministry and from your steady presence. They might be angry at you for leaving and even more so for setting boundaries around contact with church folks after you go.

So you have your big emotions and they have theirs. But they are not one-and-done feelings. The process of bringing closure to relationships happens over and over in that pre-departure window. And even with some sense of finality, the tenderness does not go away. So how do you navigate this span of weeks, or even months?

Know that this will be hard. It is hard because you have invested significant periods of time and parts of yourself in this holy work. Thanks be to God for what you have done and who you have been in this context!

Feel the feels. Honor what is going on in you and in others. You are in a thin space, where the buffer between you and God and between you and your people is less substantial than at other times.

Focus on relationships more than details. Yes, it will be good for the next minister to know who the homebound members are and what signature events for the congregation are coming up. But those are notes the new person can get elsewhere, if needed. Your successor cannot bring good closure to your relationships with parishioners.

Take good care of yourself. Don’t fill your last weeks too full. Set up emotional supports such as a video call with a non-church friend or some time with your watercolors so that you can recoup enough energy to do the relational work your soul and others’ must have.

Pray for your people. Pray for them to be ok without you. Pray for them to love their next pastor (and vice versa). Pray for them individually, since you know their specific situations. You will soon no longer be their minister, but you will always care about and want good for them.

I am a firm believer that we do as much ministry in this time between announcing our departure and leaving as we do in all the time leading up to the transition. On behalf of church people everywhere, thank you for wanting to wade through that time thoughtfully and compassionately.

Photo by Nick Page on Unsplash.

I'm really proud of my mom.

For a long time she has been feeling restless in her congregation. She greatly respects the pastors. She feels seen and loved by her fellow members. But a primary reason she joined this church was because my dad, who died a year and a half ago, was comfortable there. Now he's gone, and the theology and worship style don't fit her. She knows everyone there approaches her as a widow, which she is, but she's a very active one who doesn't want to be reminded constantly of her loss.

So Mom has been visiting around, and she thinks she's found her place. Having ministers for a son-in-law and daughter, though, she knew she shouldn't ghost her former congregation. She texted one of the pastors and asked to meet with him. Here's what she said during that conversation:

She gave thanks for the gifts of the ministers and the church's care for her. These pastors were so attentive to her and to my dad during some really rough years. Their support was essential, and she told them so.

She explained why she was leaving. It had nothing to do with conflict, and it was a hard decision. But she worships best through traditional hymns. She is more able to engage in Bible study with a particular theological bent. This congregation doesn't offer either.

She noted that she even though the congregation was no longer a fit for her, she celebrated that it was a great fit for others. It's wonderful that some people experience Jesus through praise hymns! Everybody worships differently.

She asked the pastor what she should do about her church responsibilities. She doesn't have major leadership responsibilities, but she does have some congregational care commitments. She didn't want to leave anyone in the lurch.

I thought this was a very healthy approach. For the record, I am the proud of the pastor too, who was my pastor when I was a youth. He told Mom that he wants her to find the church where she can heal and worship and grow, wherever that might be. Then he blessed her on her way. I think all ministers, at our best, can pastor people in this way as they leave our direct care.

These are the kinds of conversations that ministers and church members need to have. So many laypeople drift away, knowing they need something different for their current season of life but not wanting to hurt their pastors' feelings. But here's the truth: uncertainty and ghosting are much more painful for ministers than honesty and vulnerability. And departing laypeople don't get the closure they need to be able to get deeply involved in a new faith community.

I want to encourage both pastors and members to be open to - even to invite - some discomfort for everyone's benefit. Then each party can authenticity bless the other for the diverged journey to come.

Photo by Junseong Lee on Unsplash.

Even before the pandemic, I, like many of you, had begun thinking about how the Church needs to shift in order to be Christ’s body in the world. The twenty-first century has offered Jesus followers new awareness around individual and collective power (both having and lacking it), big questions to ask and challenges to overcome, and an increased number of tools for connecting with and on behalf of others. Covid-19 stripped us down to the studs, allowing us to see what is essential in a faith community. And now we as the body of Christ are moving through lingering exhaustion, fighting an illness that keeps popping back up (though thankfully with more ways to mitigate it now), and wondering which way to go next.

I don’t think any of us has answers about specific models of church. I know I don’t. But I think the characteristics of a flourishing church in 2023 are coming into focus. This month I will be sharing my thoughts on them via an alphabet of the evolving Church.

This week: letters U-Z. (See A-E here, F-J here, K-O here, and P-T here.)

Unity. I don’t mean politeness or agreement about things that, in the long run, don’t really matter. I’m talking about the kind of unity that is rooted in shared purpose. I’m talking about hanging in there with one another, even when there are hard conversations to be had and conflict to work through, because we are following God’s two greatest commandments (Mark 12:28-31) - not our own disparate agendas - to the best of our understanding and ability.

Values. Over the past few years I have really come to appreciate the exercise of identifying our core values, the foundational commitments that we are living into (individually and/or collectively) when we are intentional and authentic. When the pandemic hit, these values - if we were clear on them - became the touchstones. Nothing looked or operated the same with Church, but if we were operating out of our values, we were doing faithful ministry. In this time of ongoing change, values will continue to tether us to our purpose and allow the Church to have far-reaching impact.

Wonder. The life of faith is one of wonder, not just in the sense of wonder-ing or questioning, but also of awe. Isn’t it remarkable what God can do in, around, and through us? Small things, immeasurable things, and everything in between. Isn’t it unfathomable how deeply God loves us? Enough to send Jesus into the world in as vulnerable state as I could imagine - a newborn, birthed by a young mother, delivered far from home, hunted by a jealous king. What might be possible for us as Church if we fully inhabited that wonder?

(E)Xperiments. Now is not the time to spring back into all the church programs you did in The Before. It is also probably not the time to latch onto big, long-term commitments as a congregation. Instead, try something new, preferably small and time-bound, that seems like it aligns with your mission and for which you have some energy and willing participants. Then debrief and learn from it, applying what you now know either to try it again or to attempt something else that might be an even better fit with a more fruitful outcome. There is no fail here. It’s all fodder for discernment.

Yearning. Church shouldn’t be rote. It shouldn’t be mere obligation. It should be a community that speaks to our deepest longings, whether that’s to connect with our Creator, be seen and valued, to find true companions for the spiritual journey, and/or to band together with people as committed to making change in the world as we are. How are we as Church nurturing and speaking to that yearning in all that we do?

Zeroed-in focus. I think Covid broke congregations of the desire to be all things to all people, or at least I hope it did. Our church doesn’t have to offer a thing just because the congregation down the street does. (There are different churches, not to mention denominations, for a reason.) I’d love to see congregations take a good look at what they have, what they do well, and who is around them, then figure out what they want to do and how they want to show up for others. God can work with that!

I hope this alphabet series has offered some food for thought in a time of continued upheaval. I have great hope in the Church, and it’s time for the Church to reorient from being an unquestioned part of many people’s lives to living and speaking faithfully closer to the margins. That’s where Jesus operated, and it’s where we can both make big change and be changed ourselves.

Even before the pandemic, I, like many of you, had begun thinking about how the Church needs to shift in order to be Christ’s body in the world. The twenty-first century has offered Jesus followers new awareness around individual and collective power (both having and lacking it), big questions to ask and challenges to overcome, and an increased number of tools for connecting with and on behalf of others. Covid-19 stripped us down to the studs, allowing us to see what is essential in a faith community. And now we as the body of Christ are moving through lingering exhaustion, fighting an illness that keeps popping back up (though thankfully with more ways to mitigate it now), and wondering which way to go next.

I don’t think any of us has answers about specific models of church. I know I don’t. But I think the characteristics of a flourishing church in 2023 are coming into focus. This month I will be sharing my thoughts on them via an alphabet of the evolving Church.

This week: letters K-O. (See A-E here and F-J here.)

Kin. In church we often talk about being a family. That characterization can be rooted in an idealized version of family in which we love one another unconditionally. It can also be a bit insular, though. Have you ever joined a family, such as through marriage, and wondered if your presence was really wanted? There are insider jokes and stories and traditions that feel strange and come with little explanation, often because the family you’ve come into doesn’t realize how unique those cultural pieces are. “Kin,” though, has a different connotation for me. The term kin is sprawling. It’s not just those we interact with every day or even just on Sundays and holidays. It is all the people we are connected with - which, ultimately, is all the people on Earth. It implies some responsibility to one another. If we are kin, we bring people in. We help each other out. There are so many ways congregations can emphasize this message.

Listening. The Church that is increasingly irrelevant is focused on telling people exactly what God says and what everyone should do. The life of faith is not that simple. We come to belief through a myriad of backgrounds and experiences, and we interpret scripture based on them. What I think is more important to faith formation than telling, then, is listening. How do we teach people to hear the voice of God? How can we show the love of God to others through offering the gifts of our time and attention? What might we help people hear about the presence and work of God in their lives by witnessing their stories and reflecting on them together? What might we ourselves be changed through narratives different than our own?

Meaning-making. There is so much in the world that is hard and confusing. As Church we must be ready to help people make sense of it. We don’t necessarily have the answers, but we can provide a way of thinking about all that is happening and encourage those in our care to find their place, their agency, in it. We have some choices, and those options can be identified and refined through the lens of our faith.

Noticing. One of my favorite questions to start a group gathering is, “Where have you seen God at work lately?” I am always awed by the responses, which can be small notes of gratitude or retellings of big happenings in which God could just as well be shouting “HERE I AM” through a megaphone. Noticing is key to discernment, a faith-rooted way of making decisions. Church is a great place to cultivate that noticing. It shouldn’t just be for occurrences, though. It should also be for really looking for and seeing the image of God in God’s people - whomever, whenever, wherever. Just think how different the world would be if everyone noticed God and the work of God in all times and places!

Openness. This is a hospitality of the heart and mind. It is a willingness to consider new ideas and perspectives and try new things, and to know and be known by the people who introduce you to them. It is the ability to admit wrongdoing and make substantive changes. It is a doing better once you know better, as Maya Angelou said. Sometimes it is simply letting ourselves delight or giving ourselves permission not to know everything. (Doesn’t that sound like a relief?) How might our congregations help us nurture this hospitality, which is a big theme in scripture?

Next week: letters P-T.

Photo by Surendran MP on Unsplash.

In many churches, this is the time of year when annual reviews of staff take place. For some pastors, these conversations are the only times they hear what is and isn’t working from their congregants’ point of view. That makes reviews somewhat nerve-wracking for clergy. They wonder: What surprises await me when that conference room door closes? 

Here’s the thing, though: Your pastors want feedback from you! Click here to read my thoughts on how your perspectives can be shared in ways that are most useful for your ministers and, by extension, your church.

Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Unsplash.

Recently I surveyed pastors about what their biggest challenges and greatest joys are in this season of ministry. This article on the CBF blog about the challenges and ways to address them is part one of a two-piece series based on those survey results.

Photo by Jukan Tateisi on Unsplash.

Often we think of hospitality as simply greeting guests or handing them plates of food and glasses of sweet tea. Really, though, it’s much more than that. True hospitality draws people into ever-deeper layers of engagement, up to and including inviting them to share power with us. Read more about the many layers of hospitality here on the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship blog.

Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash.

Often the B plot (sometimes even the A plot) of a coaching conversation is centered on the dynamics of working with someone on the church staff who is also a congregation member. It’s tricky. Usually it’s unadvisable. But you might inherit such a situation when you start a new call, or you might even have a church member who is both very self-aware and a great fit for an open staff position. This piece I wrote for the CBF blog breaks down the pluses and minuses of having a member in a dual role and gives some guidance for how to navigate the circumstances well. Click through to read.

Photo by Eric Prouzet on Unsplash.

Coaching is not just for individuals! Did you know that I also coach church staffs, teams of lay leaders, and entire congregations? Anytime there is a gap between where you (as an individual or as a collective) are and where you want to be, there is fertile soil for coaching. A coach approach to meeting benchmarks and overcoming challenges can provide structure, tools, and encouragement to groups as they strategize in ways that make sense in their context and utilize their specific gifts. Coaching also builds ownership of new insights and plans among coachees, because it does not result in a solution handed down by an outside “expert.” In coaching the people doing the work in a particular space are understood as the true experts, and they are the ones who map the way forward.

And guess what? This time of year tends to be one of the best seasons for coaching. Summer vacations are tapering off, so it’s easier for groups seeking coaching to meet consistently. Fall programming is mostly settled. There’s some breathing room in the liturgical calendar before Advent, when the focus (rightfully) shifts to the journey to Bethlehem.

Coaching doesn’t have to break your church’s budget, either. Now that we are all very familiar with video conferencing, you only need to plan for an hourly coaching rate. No longer do you have to worry about travel and other expenses that can add up quickly.

If you sense that your congregation (or some segment of it) needs the kind of nudge that coaching could provide, here are some areas in which I specialize:

Congregational self-study during pastoral transitions. In the time between settled pastors, it’s important to do this good work to undergird the search for a great-fit minister. Who is our church apart from the personality and passions of our former leader?

Figuring out church after(ish) Covid-19. In pre-post-pandemic, many questions remain in order not just to do church but to be church. What is our role in the world after a big shift in people’s priorities and ways of life? How do we rebuild relationships and establish new ones both within our congregation and in the larger community based on what we’ve learned about ourselves and our neighbors over the past couple of years?

Setting new touchstones and metrics. The pandemic shook many markers loose. What is it that is consistently grounding for and true about our congregation? What are helpful benchmarks that let us know our impact in partnership with God?

Visioning and discerning next steps. We might only see half-steps forward right now, but we can figure out how to recognize them. How do we listen for invitations from God? How do we engage in a continuous cycle of experimentation, assessment, and learning in a way that brings excitement and delight instead of a sense of failure and shame?

Pastor searches. Teams of laypeople (appropriately) have a lot of questions about how to find someone for a role they themselves have never held. What do we need a pastor to do? Where do we look for people who can do these things? How do we invite candidates to consider our ministry opportunity out of a spirit of welcome and generosity?

I would love the chance to talk with you about any of these congregational coaching possibilities, as well as potential coaching topics that are not mentioned above. Please schedule a free exploratory call here. If you don’t see a time that works for you, contact me so that we can figure out a window that will.

Back in January I had the opportunity to interview several pastors for one of my Doctor of Ministry papers. The topic was technology shifts during the pandemic and the resulting impact on congregations and their leaders. One conversation in particular fascinated me. This interviewee’s church had long established play as one of its values. The pastor helped congregants draw on this value in new ways during Covid, thus allowing individual members to retain their connections with one another and helping the church as a whole weather the challenges of lockdown. In the latest edition of Fellowship Magazine, I write about the many ways that play makes congregations more connected and adaptable. Click here to read the article, which can be found on page 31.

Photo by Nik Korba on Unsplash.

Yes, your church will want to speed up the search process to put an end to the discomfort and uncertainty of not having a settled pastor. Over at the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship blog, though, I share what gifts of a search your congregation will miss if you hit the fast forward button. Click here to read the article.

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by annie pm on Unsplash.

For me, emerging from the pandemic feels like the emotional equivalent of walking out of a cave into the sunlight at high noon on a clear day. I blink rapidly. I shrink from the brightness. I consider running back into the cool darkness of the cave.

In other words, I am not ready to be fully out in the world again. In my mask, I don’t have to worry about my arranging my face into appropriate expressions. With social distancing, I am not forced to make small talk with strangers. If large gatherings are discouraged, no excuses are necessary when I don’t want to have my (barely existent) energy guzzled by trying to find my place, my role, in a crowd. It’s true - this pre-pandemic introvert is in danger of becoming a post-pandemic recluse.

It’s not all my fault. I’ve hardly had any time to myself over the past 15 months, which means my battery stays well below a 50% charge at all times. So as the world opens up more, I’m going to need a minute.

I’m not alone. Some people are So Very Tired in body and soul that they can’t imagine budging from their couches. Others have found online community life-giving. A few are simply not convinced that Covid is under control enough to take the risk of public re-entry.

At the opposite end of the spectrum, there are people who are ready to give free bear hugs to anyone and everyone they encounter. They’ve been craving non-virtual interaction with other humans. They cannot wait to see real smiles and sing in groups and talk about all the things without worrying if their tech will crap out.

There are people in between these extremes too, of course, and representatives of every point along the range are in your church. It’s important to keep this in mind as you craft your re-gathering strategy. Here, then, are some relational factors to attend to in your plan:

• What are the needs and concerns of those who are hesitant to re-engage?

  • How might we help these people?

  • How do we leave a physical and/or virtual seat open for them until they’re (if they become) ready?

• What are the needs and concerns of those who need human touch and talk?

  • How might we help these people?

  • How do we foster meaningful and safe connection in person?

• What capacity do we have to maintain both online and in-person communities?

  • If we can faithfully manage both, how do we keep the two communities connected with one another?

  • If we cannot faithfully manage both, how do we either increase capacity (such as through delegating) or help one community or the other find what they need elsewhere?

In many ways re-gathering is much more complicated than going into lockdown, and people’s comfort level in being with others is one of the ways that the complexity is showing up. Keep in mind that it’s not because one group cares more than another, it’s because the ways of showing care look different depending on individuals’ personalities and experiences of the pandemic. Let us show compassion by remaining open in eyes and ears as well as in hearts and minds.

Photo by MIKHAIL VASILYEV on Unsplash.

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.

Back in the olden days (read: before mid-March 2020), every pastor new to a church would experience a twelve-month cycle of firsts. There would be your first [insert liturgical season here], your first [insert signature congregational event here], your first conflict, your first death of a church pillar. Through all of these events, the clergyperson and congregation would get to know each other’s gifts and passions and quirks much better, and hopefully this deeper knowing would solidify the pastor-parish relationship going forward.

Well, if you’re a minister who started a new call later than April 2019, you had a pandemic dropped into your initial twelve months, meaning you might not have experienced (or maybe even learned about) that obscure but much-loved Easter tradition or the unexpected level of activity in the summer months. Your cycle is incomplete. So what does this mean?

If we’re able to re-gather physically when that first comes around next year, you’ll have a learning curve. Remind people that you haven’t experienced it. Otherwise, they might expect you to know all about it, leading to hurt feelings.

You might feel really excited to participate in that first you missed - or you might not. That event could represent a return to something resembling “normal.” On the other hand, your level of commitment to it could be low.

You’ll get to probe the importance of that event you missed. You’ll have the blissful lack of awareness to ask any question you want, and you’ll have built more trust so that you can probe deeper.

Be gentle with yourself when you don’t feel too attached to what you missed, and allow yourself to grieve what you anticipated at your new call but didn’t get to enjoy. Pandemic-flavored ministry is hard for everyone, but in some ways it is hardest for those pastors who changed congregations just before or even during the outbreak.

Photo by Photos by Lanty on Unsplash.

Currently, pretty much everything is more complicated than it was a few weeks ago. That includes ministerial transitions. If you are deep into a search process or are working out your notice, below is a flow chart to help you think through the coverage of pastoral duties and your own needs. (Zoom in so that you can read the fine print. Alternatively, here is a PDF version.)

Obviously, this chart does not address all of the issues to consider. Here are a few more to mull:

Moving. It is inadvisable at best to change locations right now. That might mean that you stay in place and begin a new call virtually. If so, be sure to negotiate now for time to move later. If you live in a parsonage/manse/rectory, you might end up still living on the property of a church you no longer serve. (The person following you will also be unable to move, so at least that might not be an issue.) Work with congregational leadership on issues related to boundaries. Consult your judicatory leader to help you navigate the issues related to housing allowance and an accountant to find out what the tax implications might be.

Closure. How do you say goodbye when you cannot safely be around other people? Two options come to mind. First, say goodbye the way you are going about all your other relational tasks right now: by phone, computer, or mail. Second, this might be one of those rare occasions to bend the rules around a hard end date. You might be able to schedule an in-person send-off for later, but do consider how your reappearance might impact those beloved church members and the minister in place.

In all transition-related matters, lean on your judicatory or denominational leaders for wisdom. This situation is new for them as well, but they might have a sense of the bigger picture and expertise that can greatly benefit you and your sending and receiving churches.

In his book The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion, social psychologist Jonathan Haidt covers a range of themes about which liberals and conservatives disagree. One is the care/harm theme in which the two polarities differently attribute definitions and causes of hurt and assign the responsibilities of society toward those who are vulnerable. In another, the polarities take varying stances toward people with power.

Our relationships toward these two themes are running beneath the surface of many COVID-19 conversations. Who is to blame for the spread of the virus? Who is supposed to do what about it? How well are our leaders serving us in this crisis? Who is the boss of me and my comings and goings as recommendations for ever more stringent social distancing guidelines are urged?

Right now these questions are only helpful insofar as they reduce the spread of disease. Beyond that, they are ingredients for introducing even more anxiety into a system that is already highly reactive. Still, the questions aren't going away.

For leaders, then, the need to self-differentiate is more important (and difficult) than ever. If we can be with our people rather than react to to them, we'll model ways to manage self and begin to infuse the system with more stability.

What does self-differentiating in a pandemic mean? Here are some thoughts:

Listen deeply to others. When people feel heard, seen, and valued, the tension in a conversation drops.

Stay curious. Seek to understand, whether or not you agree.

Don't try to change minds. Be clear about what you believe, but prioritize the relationship over the position.

Neither under- nor overfunction. This helps distribute responsibility throughout the system, evening out the emotions.

Balance thinking and feeling. You need both, but too much of one or the other will make it hard to keep connected with people.

Stay present with people. If you can be grounded where you are, there is always the potential for care and respect.

Take care of yourself. Self-differentiation is hard work. Shore up your support system as needed.

Your leadership matters. While others panic, blame, or scoff, your self-management is helping make it possible for those in your care not just to cope, but to assign meaning to this unprecedented experience.

On the best of days, many churches have long spent too much energy on what they do not have, usually a balanced budget and pews bursting at the end caps. The COVID-19 crisis has ramped up that fear about scarcity. Not only do we not have an offering plate to pass or full sanctuaries, we cannot safely gather in person at all. We do not even have the incarnational comfort of physical proximity.

Ok. All of that is true. All of that is hard. And, it is not the only story. Abundance still exists. You might just have to look a little harder or get more creative to find it. But once you do, you can build on it in ways that will benefit your congregation far beyond the passing of this immediate crisis. Here, then, are some places where you might take stock:

Tech savvy. Who are the people in your church who know how to connect others or disseminate information in a variety of ways by technology? What platforms or equipment might they have access to that your church could use to gather constituents virtually at various times?

Connections to denominational partners. Your denomination (including publishing houses, benefits boards, and more) or middle judicatory has probably sent information out to churches. What resources are on offer? What resources might you ask about, such as mini grants to set up online platforms?

Time. Some of your church members are extra busy right now as they work from home (and possibly try to homeschool their kids simultaneously). Those who are home and cannot/do not telecommute, though, might have availability that they might not otherwise. How might they use that time to serve others, perhaps by calling or texting individuals or hosting virtual gathering?

Individual connections. Who do the people in your church know, whether from school, work, volunteer efforts, professional networks, clubs, or businesses they frequent? How might those connections be leveraged remotely to help those in need, whether within your congregation or beyond?

Individual talents. What are the people in your church good at - whether those are life skills or for pure enjoyment - and that they might teach others to do by phone or video? What can they make and share (with proper precautions) with others, such as poetry or meals or activity kits for kids?

This is not an exhaustive list, but it does provide examples of ways to think more deeply about strengths your church can leverage in a greatly changed context. Getting creative about ways to connect has the added advantage of moving your congregation forward into an increasingly digital world - pandemic or not. And it further trains us to notice where God is at work among us, a habit that is spiritually transformative.

Let’s not mince words. This whole COVID-19 business sucks.

That suckage covers a big range, too. At one extreme, there’s the physical danger to immunosuppressed people and to those living in poverty, who might have difficulty feeding themselves as schools close and shelves empty at food banks and at stores that take government benefits. At the other extreme, people lament the (hopefully very short-term) loss of all that makes life enjoyable, such as birthday parties and trips and worship services and the NCAA basketball tournament. And these are only the immediate impacts.

So we’re all feeling the pinch in some way. The mortal danger is, of course, the exponentially greater concern. That’s why institutions of all kids are taking precautions and recommending safety guidelines to leaders and individuals – including pastors and church members. Talk about the things they didn’t teach you in seminary: many a minister is struggling to tend both to concerns about vulnerable people and frustrations about closures in a context that is now changing hourly.

Fully acknowledging how much the situation stinks, there are a couple of opportunities to keep in mind.

First, the church is not the building where your congregation is used to meeting. The church I attended in seminary had (and probably still has) a sign that said, “Oakhurst Baptist meets here.” It was a way of separating the congregation from the physical location. Many a church struggles to do that. After all, how many conversations about sanctuary carpet or the color the youth want to paint the walls of their meeting space become seemingly all-consuming, to the detriment of actual ministry? With many churches canceling in-person gathering for at least the next few weeks, there can begin to be more daylight between the people and the place.

With that in mind, how can you help your congregation members see in new ways that church is about relationships, not a facility? How will you equip and encourage your people to tend to those connections in the absence of a physical gathering place?

Second, the church as it was has been dying for some time. Many pastors know that, yet it can be hard to imagine what a new iteration of church might look like. And even if we can visualize it, how in the world can we inspire our people to be courageous enough to attempt it? Well, this pandemic offers a laboratory for that. We can’t conduct business as usual. We thus have unprecedented permission to discern new ways of connecting to one another as we seek to grow in our relationships with God.

So what expressions of the scattered church have you wanted to play with but heretofore haven’t dared? If you’re not sure what you’d like to experiment with, how can those who are accustomed to relating to people who aren’t physically present (e.g. youth ministers, digital natives, tech professionals) show us the way?

I am praying for you, pastors, and I am confident in your faithfulness, compassion, and ability to innovate. Lean into those strengths – you might be surprised by what emerges. And as you attempt new things, give yourself permission not to have all the answers immediately. We’re all feeling our way along in this brave new world.