Last week I offered some discussion prompts for congregations that are discerning whether to lean into true hybrid community that creates robust belonging for both online and offline participants. If responses to those questions point to an openness to hybrid church, the reflection cues below begin to get at planning the specifics.

Logistics

• Based on responses to these questions, what might our digital sandbox look like? What’s the container for the sandbox? How big is it? Who might want to play in it? What toys are in it for people to play with? (Sit with this metaphor a bit before moving into practical details below.)

• What platforms would we utilize? What criteria will guide this decision? Which ones are current constituents and those who aren’t yet engaged already using?

• What elements of hybrid church would be synchronous or asynchronous?

• Which elements of hybrid church would be open to anyone and which would be password protected? What community norms would we need to establish for each, consistent with what expectations are for in-person congregational interaction? What would the bar be for obtaining the password?

• What systems and leadership would we need in order to tend the online aspects and to facilitate mutual connection between online and offline participants?

• What training would leaders and participants in hybrid church need?

• How would we actively invite people for whom our hybrid church is good news?

• How could we create space for hybrid participants’ contributions and big questions, indeed for their full participation in creating a faith community characterized by belonging?

• What mechanisms for regular assessment and course-correction would we put into place?

Membership

• What are our formal and informal practices around and beliefs about church membership? In what ways do they serve us well, and in what ways do they not?

• How would the intentional cultivation of hybrid church necessarily affect what membership means and who can become a member? What changes do we need to make as a result?

Leadership

• What time and attention, and from whom, would hybrid church require?

• How could we make this leadership consistent and sustainable?

• What does this mean for our staffing configuration (and budget) and the roles of lay leaders?

Mutual responsibility

• What kind(s) of commitment are we asking for from online church participants in order to create the mutuality that belonging entails?

• How do we communicate the what and why of these expectations to online community constituents and get their assent?

• How do we engage online community participants in helping to craft mutual expectations?

• How do we make it as inviting as possible to uphold expectations?

Sacraments/ordinances

• What are the most important rituals in the life of our congregation? What meaning do they convey? What role does physical presence play in them?

• What is and isn’t negotiable about being physically present to participate in these rituals?

• Within what is negotiable, how might we get creative – and invite those online to do the same – in order to invite participation and communicate meaning across online and offline spaces?

The questions I’ve offered over the course of these two posts are not the only ones your church would need to address, but they offer a place to start. Your congregation might work through these prompts and decide that your call is not to be a hybrid church. You might not have the capacity or deep desire. That’s ok! But for congregations that are excited for this possibility and have the resources to make it happen, much is possible. In this time of increased polarization, the body of Christ has become loosely connected at the joints, and uniting those with a propensity to go online for church with those who attend in person offers the chance to strengthen the relationships among these parts to the glory of God.

Photo by Dan-Cristian Pădureț on Unsplash.

Two years ago many churches moved the whole of church life online because of the pandemic. Pastors and congregations felt the frustrations associated with physical distancing and tech trial and error. They also, though, found freedom from “the way we’ve always done it,” new outlets for creativity, and broader reach.

At this point in Covid (which I recently heard one colleague aptly refer to as “pre-post-Covid”), a lot of churches are continuing some aspects of online worship and community. For some this is just for now, since not all constituents are yet comfortable returning to the church campus. For others this is an experiment with what will become a permanent supplement to in-person congregational life. And for a few this is a precursor to full-blown hybrid church, a unified online and offline community that offers belonging, space to ask big questions, and opportunities to create and lead to everyone who is involved.

Constructing this hybrid congregation will take a lot of reflection on and intentionality about everything from the core of congregational identity all the way to the nuts and bolts of day-to-day operations. This week and next I will offer some coaching questions to help your church discern whether hybrid is right for you and how to move into this new way of being a faith community.

Congregational identity

• What are our congregation’s core values, the commitments that define who we are and what we do?

• What has this congregation been put on earth to do? To what future is God inviting us?

• For whom are this purpose and future story good news? Among these populations, who is currently not connected to our congregation?

Pandemic gleanings

• What technology attempts during the pandemic have worked well? What did we learn?

• What technology attempts didn’t work as well? What did we learn?

• What surprised us about what did and didn’t work?

• Who engaged with our church online? In what ways, and how frequently? What has their engagement added to our faith community, and how has our faith community enriched their lives?

• What lasting shifts have we made in our understanding as church as a physical place during the pandemic?

• What new gifts among church members were uncovered during the pandemic?

• What extra responsibilities did our pastor take on during the pandemic? What role renegotiation is now needed?

Preparatory self-reflection

• What does belonging look like for us? What will we need to attend to in order to extend that same sense of belonging to those who primarily engage with us online?

• What assumptions do we continue to make about people who connect to church online (indeed, who conduct much of their lives online)?  Offline? How do we dispel the myths?

• How will we respond if someone who has been an in-person participant pre-pandemic decides to engage primarily in the online aspects of church?

• How do we want to respond if people who have engaged primarily online decide to become in-person participants, acknowledging that that person might know more about the church than the church knows about them?

• How can we encourage those who have returned/intend to return to in-person participation to engage with online constituents to the benefit of all?

• What excites us most about the possibilities of hybrid church? What questions or hesitations do we have?

• What are we willing to give up (e.g., power, particular ways of doing church) in order to give hybrid church room to work?

• What are touchstones for our congregation, in addition to values and purpose, that it would be important to educate about and build welcome around for those who never set foot on the church campus? Examples might include rituals or narratives about the church’s history.

• How could a truly hybrid church help us live more fully into our values and purpose? What might be possible that otherwise wouldn’t?

Stay tuned next week for questions about the practical side of planning for hybrid church.

Photo by Vadim Bogulov on Unsplash.

Here is the second installment in a new blog series that features clergywomen who are putting fresh expressions of ministry out into the world. My hopes are to amplify their great work, to spark readers’ imaginations, and to encourage pastors who are thinking about new ways of living into their call.

I am excited today for you to learn about Mary Apicella and her fitness business. Mary has served as a pastor and now ministers to bodies and spirits by integrating personal training with the movements of the liturgical calendar. I particularly celebrate her work with pre- and post-natal women and wish I had had someone like Mary to help me tend to my physical recovery from a C-section after my child was born. Mary works with all kinds of clients, and she has a heart for clergy moms, knowing well the stresses and joys of the pastoral life and of parenting. She is credentialed as a personal trainer through the National Academy of Sports Medicine (NASM) and as a Pre/Postnatal Fitness Specialist through PRONatal Fitness. I asked Mary to share about her ministry and the hurdles and helps to it. Check out her responses below.

What is your ministry all about?

Sacred Salt is my integration of faith and fitness. I create workouts and exercise programs that follow the liturgical church calendar, as opposed to the typical January to December calendar year. While I created these workouts with clergy, specifically congregational pastors, in mind, these workouts fit any lay leader or congregational volunteer who also finds themselves busier, even overwhelmed, during certain moments in the church year as they participate in the life and story of the church.

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

I initially created this practice just for myself when I was a solo pastor straight out of seminary as a way to maintain the exercise routine I enjoyed as a grad student with constant access to a campus fitness center. I knew spring and late fall/early winter would be busier times because of the extra services and time commitments of Lent and Advent, so I tried to schedule my workouts in a way that would complement, not compete with, the energy and focus I needed to pastor my congregation and do the work of ministry.

The name “Sacred Salt” came out of a sermon I preached on Matthew 5, specifically the 13th verse, where Jesus reminds his hearers that we “are the salt of the earth.” Jesus wasn’t telling the people to go off and figure out how to be salt. Rather, he was reminding them of what they already were: human beings created with two ways of producing salt – sweat and tears.

When Jesus said to be salt for the earth, I believe he meant to be so completely in relationship and community with others that you break a sweat and break into tears – whether they be joy, grief, rage, or laughter. In that way, the salt we’re made with becomes sacred when we share it with others, preserving the earth and the world around us.

In the fall of 2020, I was in the midst of two huge identity shifts: I’d resigned as a congregational pastor in mid-June of that year, and 8 weeks later gave birth via emergency c-section to my daughter. I felt unmoored, and the COVID-19 pandemic was just an added layer of ongoing bewilderment to the chaos I’d been feeling. All those identity questions I thought I’d thoroughly answered reared their heads again: Who am I, now? What do I want to do? How do I want to get there?

In the middle of all this, I received a phone call from a friend who knew I’d been going through some transitions and perhaps suspected some of what I was feeling. She offered me an opportunity to be the physical health and wellness coach for a year-long “Thriving in Ministry” program funded by the Lilly Foundation. The program would be completely virtual, and I would meet with cohorts of pastors as well as offer 1-1 sessions with individuals to talk about health, wellness, and exercise throughout all of 2021. And everything would be funded by the grant for the whole year. I was overjoyed. What had felt like disoriented wandering around a fog-draped maze became a little less foggy as more of the path appeared.

I’m forever thankful for that conversation, the leaders of the Thriving in Ministry program, and the participants who helped me grow, regain my confidence and clarity as a leader, and who trusted me to come alongside them as they made changes to become healthier, stronger, and happier. I’m especially thankful to the 4 pastors who also welcomed me into their lives as a trainer for prenatal and postpartum work, and who have named what I do now, “ministry.”

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

As convenient as virtual training is, it is also a challenge since I am not in the same physical space as the people I train. When doing virtual personal training, all of us become our own tech and set crews to adjust lighting, camera angles, and finding the right position to be in to observe form while moving. It’s a mindset shift to find some levity in doing all that work, and it has also made me a better communicator and trainer since I’m relying on verbal feedback from my clients to determine how each movement feels. This is a benefit to my clients as well, since they need to be more in tune with their bodies in order to let me know if something is or isn’t working. When I create the Sacred Salt workout videos, I don’t have any feedback in real time, since folks can do them according to their schedules. That can make it difficult to offer enough variations to make movements challenging but doable, but as I get to know the people receiving these workouts, I ask for requests and do my best to offer what they’d like and enjoy doing.

For whom is your ministry really good news? Why?

Sacred Salt is really good news for folks who do their best to love Jesus, love the church, love themselves, and struggle to do all of that consistently without neglecting the latter in service of the two formers. These workouts come from a lived experience of pastoring full-time and wanting to find ways to care for myself physically, which helped keep me healthy mentally, emotionally, and vocationally. Connecting exercise to the story of faith helps the story come to life for me in wonderful and surprising ways. It’s my joy to help others discover that as well.

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

My site, www.maryapicellafitness.com, is set up as a pre/postnatal virtual personal training website, but in the Venn diagram of my two passions, pastors and pre/postnatal folks, I am trying my best to weave them together on one website. There is a “Sacred Salt” tab at the top of the menu bar for folks who’d like to learn more, explore the video library of full-length workouts and demonstrations, as well as the extra “workouts with the saints” for various feast days, and try them all for free for 7 days.

Thank you, Mary, for sharing about your ministry and inviting others into it!

The title of this posts reflects a growing reality among mainline Protestant churches in North America. So what do we do, especially given that this trend is likely to continue? I’m over at the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship blog today with my thoughts.

Photo by Nolan Kent on Unsplash.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Appolinary Kalashnikova on Unsplash.

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Ferenc Horvath on Unsplash.

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

Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash.

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

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

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

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

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

Judicatory leaders

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

Congregations

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

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

Photo by Kai Bossom on Unsplash.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Lukas Blazek on Unsplash.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Lacie Slezak on Unsplash.

Many pastor search processes gear up or reconvene after Christmas. If your pastor search team doesn’t know where to start, has hit a snag, or has a Big Question it’s not sure how to answer, good news! Practical Resources for Churches is hosting (and I am leading) a free webinar on best practices for pastor search teams on Thursday, January 20, from 7:00-8:00 pm eastern.

In this webinar your pastor search team will learn best practices for conducting a search that not only results in calling a great-fit pastor but that also promotes spiritual transformation for those involved and blesses the candidates that come into contact with your process. I’ll give a brief overview of all the opportunities baked into a pastor search and the head/heart orientation that will allow your search team to make the most of them. I’ll provide an introduction to the five main stages of a pastor search, explaining how their completion contributes to a successful search process and a great foundation for mutual ministry with your new pastor, along with best practices for each stage. I’ll take a deeper dive on some questions that are common to many search teams, such as where to search, how to review materials, what questions to ask of yourselves and the candidates, and how to communicate with candidates. There will be particular tips for small churches and part-time calls. Ample time will be reserved for questions specific to your situation.

Even if you aren’t able to attend the webinar live, you can register and receive the webinar recording afterward. I encourage you then to register and to share the webinar information with others who might be interested. If your search team needs more guidance after the webinar, I offer affordable, remote coaching and training options.

I look forward to my first opportunity to work with Practical Resources for Churches, a nonprofit ecumenical resource center for churches. It presents over 60 webinars each year, many featuring nationally recognized presenters and authors, in the areas of faith formation; children's, youth, adult, and intergenerational ministry; church management; stewardship and finance; technology; worship; caring ministry; and more. Each year thousands of people from around the country and the world watch or register for these webinars. All of PRC’s webinars are free.

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the past year my congregational coaching work has included:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Isabela Kronemberger on Unsplash.

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

And yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Billy Pasco on Unsplash.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash.

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

Photo by Waldemar Brandt on Unsplash.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Raise your hand if you’ve been taught that your church should develop a 3, 5, or even 10-year plan. (I’ll wait.) Hey, me too!

When seminary and denominational leaders started to look toward the corporate world for answers to membership decline, many adopted the strategic plan model. It seemed like a good way to regrip the control that seemed to be slipping through our fingers. We even put religious language to it, though sometimes it took on a subconscious prosperity gospel message: “If we are faithful in these steps, God will reward us with…” Unfortunately, strategic plans have often proven to be a set-up for discouragement (though they are sometimes necessary for resource-driven projects like a capital campaign). After all, when we are dealing with people rather than products, we cannot predict that these efforts in Q1 will result in those “profits” in Q4. Discouragement can lead to panic, and panic can lead to doubling down on an inward focus that belies the church’s call to be Christ’s hands and feet in the world.

The pandemic has shown us that the control we seek though a 10-year trajectory is largely illusory. In fact, those who are often locked out of leadership such as people of color, women, and the LGTBQ+ community have been telling us this for decades. The ability to plan far into the future is a function of privilege. Strategizing is possible only when we think we have certain things that we can count on. This stability, though, can be out of reach for groups that don’t get to make the rules. And when the world shut down, those of us with privilege got a taste of the chaos that these communities experience on a daily basis.

So in solidarity with these groups and with acceptance of the unpredictability of these times, let’s kick the strategic plan to the curb where we can and take a different approach. Let’s name our values, both those we live and those we yet aspire to embody. (You can do this by examining patterns in your history and in your current ministries. What do we do? Where do our resources go? How do these realities align with who we say we are?) Let’s discern our overall purpose, that big-picture invitation from God that gives us energy and direction. And let’s use those values and purpose to dream big but plan in stages, taking time to assess at the end of each:

• What were our expectations? What did we learn about our expectations and about ourselves as the people who hold them?

• What do we need to celebrate?

• What do we need to shift?

• What do we need to communicate, and to whom?

• What elements can we build upon?

• How did our efforts help us to live toward our understanding of who we are and what God is calling us to be and do?

• Where did we see the Holy Spirit at work?

• What relationships were formed or strengthened?

• What did we learn about our congregation, community, and/or corporate calling?

This way we are engaged in ongoing discernment - which is really a way of building our reliance on God - not simply enacting a one-and-done plan that gets shelved when the first benchmark isn’t met. We also celebrate regularly (which opens up our brains for greater creativity) and grow our ability to roll with what is going on in our world and in our congregational lives. Because, after all, a church must be looking for where God is at work and nimble to be poised for long-term spiritual growth, which is the kind of growth that really matters.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash.

[Note: I originally offered this resource five years ago, and it continues to be one of my favorites. Like 2020, I think this might be a particularly poignant and important year to spend ample time remembering those we have lost.]

Sometimes I wish All Saints’ Day could be more than, well, one day. Our lives are shaped by so many people who have gone before, whether we knew them personally or not. I think we could all benefit from reflecting on their influence and considering what parts of their legacies to carry forward.

Since All Saints’ Day is November 1, and since we are already inclined toward thanks-living during November, I have put together a month-long prayer calendar with daily prompts to remember a departed saint whose impact has been significant. This calendar is available as a copier-friendly PDF. Feel free to share the calendar on social media, print it for your church members or yourself, or use it as your November newsletter article.