Over the course of fifteen years in ministry, I have observed the search process from a number of angles: candidate, search team member, interim minister, coach, and colleague. I’ve noted that there are many places where a search can go off the rails. Here are a few outtakes from my (lengthy) personal blooper reel:

• I was offered compensation that was barely enough to cover groceries while the church was patting itself on the back for extending a call to a woman.

• I went on an out-of-state, in-person interview for which I was offered no travel expense reimbursement.

• I was rejected by a search team, then called by the senior pastor at that church to come in for a 1-on-1 interview. (He had no clue that I’d been released from the process.)

• I was given a 5-page job description that would have taken about 80 hours per week to fulfill.

• I was BCCed on a form email releasing me from a search process for which I had been courted.

• And, the grand prize winner: I was held hostage during a candidating weekend in a family’s living room while the husband/dad grilled me about my stance on same-sex marriage.

These tales, plus those from ministry colleagues, are what led me to develop a congregational search framework that is rooted in hospitality.

Despite all the bizarre things search teams do, however, candidates have more means of influencing search processes than they often realize. That is why I have created Sailing Uncertain Seas: A Workbook for Navigating the Search & Call Process. This 58-page workbook, built from search & call webinars I have offered over the last year, coaching conversations I have had with ministers in active searches, the research for my search framework, and my own experiences, is a comprehensive resource for the Christian clergyperson seeking a new congregational ministry position. Each section offers tips and reflection questions with ample space to respond. The workbook covers the following topics:

• How do I know when the time is right to make a move?

• What does a “good fit” position look like for me?

• How do I attend to gaps in the experience I have and the experience I must have?

• How do I get my materials in front of a search team?

• How do I tell my story to search teams?

• How do I prepare spiritually, mentally, and emotionally for interviews?

• What do I wear for interviews?

• How can I reflect on interview experiences in helpful ways?

• How do I get the real story on congregations I’m interested in?

• How do I deal with search team gaffes?

• How do I juggle different search timelines?

• How do I navigate searching while serving elsewhere?

• How do I navigate searching while not serving elsewhere?

• How do I make good use of a search team’s “no”?

• What else do I need to make a good decision if a call is extended?

• How do I negotiate compensation?

• How do I leave my current call well?

• How do I get off to a good start in my new call?

The workbook concludes with links to additional resources.

Are you a clergyperson who would benefit from tips & reflection questions for every step of your search? If so, this workbook will be well worth your investment. Click here to buy.

Discernment: we talk about it. We encourage the people in our care to engage in it. But even so, sometimes we’re not sure exactly how to define it or how to wade into it. This post offers a starting point.

Decisions are intellectual exercises. People gather information from a number of sources, evaluate it, and create actions and a timetable based on the outcomes of their analysis. When people make decisions, they seek to control the outcome. Discernment is an attentiveness – cultivated in the head, heart, and gut – to God’s work in the world so that we might join God in those efforts. Wisdom about the matter for discernment unfolds in God’s time and through many of the same sources upon which decisions are made, plus some that might be discounted when acting purely on logic. Below are some of the key elements of discernment.

Create an atmosphere for discernment. Consider the location, room arrangement, and touchstones that would make your space most conducive to listening for the wisdom of the Holy Spirit.

Set aside distractions. Name and turn over agendas and worries that could keep you from focusing on God’s yearnings.

Worship in your space. Read scripture. Pray. Sing. Remember and acknowledge that God wants good for you.

Refine the question for discernment. You are more likely to get a clear response if your question for God is finely-tuned.

Pray for indifference. Indifference means that, because you trust God’s intentions, you will refrain from nudging the outcome in one direction or another.

Gather relevant data. Use every resource at your disposal, including but not limited to hard data, conversations with others, scripture, individual and collective memories, pro/con lists, imagination, intuition, feelings, and your senses. No data source is off limits in discernment, because God speaks in a number of ways.

Discuss the data. Name what you have discovered through gathering the data – especially the surprises.

Pray for wisdom. Ask God to weave the data together and to help you step back and view the interwoven whole.

Make friends with silence. We are so unaccustomed to silence that when we do experience it, we often feel uncomfortable with it. Start with short spans of silence (30 seconds or so) and build capacity from there. In doing so, you give God a bigger opening. Wait on God to speak.

Identify the resolution that seems to be emerging. What are you hearing?

Test the resolution. Ask God for confirmation that you have discerned correctly. (See criteria for identifying, “is this God?”) Tweak the plan as needed.

Take action. Honor the faithfulness of God by moving forward boldly with the action you have discerned.

While this outline is for individual discernment, you can tweak it at any point to involve others.

Just before Ash Wednesday, I posted what I was giving up – or at least attempting to – for Lent: shame, inaction, defensiveness, withdrawal, and despair. All of these weighty realities were negatively affecting my relationship with God and my interactions with others, and my denial had been so thoroughly obliterated by the political and cultural battles of the last election cycle that it was high time to wrestle with each of these monsters.

Every one of the monsters, I realized, was the result of self-absorption. I didn’t want to hurt, didn’t want to be challenged, didn’t want to give up my sense of security. There are so many people who don’t have the luxury of avoiding hurt, challenge, and insecurity, and so my Lent was an exercise in growing my ability to center their concerns. I wrote a piece about what I learned and how I responded to these gleanings for the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship’s Patheos blog.

But if my Lenten discipline was just an experiment, a temporary shift in focus, then I was not truly willing to be formed, I was not actually interested in growing toward others and God. And if I go back to the way I operated before Ash Wednesday, then I can no longer claim to be a faithful minister or a follower of the gospel. I cannot forget what I have read and heard about the plights of others over these 40 days. I cannot pretend that I didn’t discover parts of myself that need redemption. I cannot ignore that if I believe God is self-giving love, then I must do my human best to embody that same love, comfort be damned.

So hold me accountable, will you? Call me out when needed. Tell me how I can help. I promise I will keep listening, expanding my heart, and trying to do better.

Jesus’ disciple went to the authorities and asked,

What will you give me…

What monetary reward?

What recognition?

What reassurance?

What relief?

…if I betray Jesus to you?

if I take you to him when he is most vulnerable?

if I deny his divinity?

if I ignore his teachings and his example?

if I turn my back on his love for me?

I do this every day.

I betray Jesus

for the love of wealth

for the love of power

for the love of security

for the love of comfort

for things and feelings that are fleeting and fake.

And yet, fully knowing that I will turn on him

– even as I say, Surely not I? –

Jesus invites me to his table,

feeds me with the bread of life,

and offers me the cup of the covenant, saying,

Drink from it, all of you.

I guess “all” truly does mean all,

thanks be to God.

I guess I’d better start living like it.

I have been there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It all began with my (mild) obsession with flash sale sites. I had not only been getting some great deals through Groupon and Living Social, I’d also gotten a little cocky. I’d been posting my unique link referring others to my super bargains, and so many friends had fallen prey to my powers of persuasion that I’d gotten some of my vouchers for free. That was why, when the opportunity to buy a package for pure barre showed up in my inbox, I broke one of my cardinal rules: never pay to exercise.

As it turned out, I didn’t get that deal for free. But my body needed a tune-up before a beach vacation, so I happily scheduled the purchased classes anyway. Pure barre was an awakening – a painful, booty-kicking one. Every 55-minute workout was harder than the previous one, with its small movements and isometric holds, its ballet barre work and fiendish double tube sprints. But I left each class reinvigorated physically and mentally, since the focus required leaves no room for thinking through my to-do list or playing back tapes of conversations gone wrong. I was quickly hooked because of both benefits.

Most importantly, though, barre work enabled me to come to terms with my body. I have never begrudged my height, all 4’10” of it. I have lamented how quickly that extra slice of pizza shows up (to my mind) on my backside. I have also spent many a morning cursing my adult acne, wondering when my miracle creams will finally work their wonder. These preoccupations have made me a hypocrite, seeing as how I’m a minister in a very incarnational faith. I tell young girls to love their look even as I’ve hardly been able to look at myself in the mirror. I’ve preached that God intentionally made us the way we are, inside and out, even as I’ve wished wholeheartedly that God would have spent a little more time tweaking my design. I’ve reminded people that God loves bodies, or else God wouldn’t have given Jesus one. But still I’ve found mine wanting.

It’s not been a complete 180, but it has been major progress. I know it because of my love of spandex.  Oh, spandex, we spent some ill-advised time together in the late 80s and early 90s when bicycle shorts counted as, well, shorts. Since then, though, I’ve steered clear of you – until barre work came into my life. Barre exercises require stretchy, breathable clothing, and spandex best fits the bill. I’ve found that the more form-fitting the outfit, the more comfortable the workout … relatively speaking. So I wear it, tight as it can be, as I tuck and pulse. And the more I wear it, the more I flaunt it. I love the way it feels, and I like the way I look in it. My glances in the mirror now are to measure my muscles’ progress rather than to check for pimples (on my face) and dimples (not on my face). I no longer put my tights on just before a workout and take them off first chance I get – if I have to run errands before or after I torture my thighs, I do them in spandex.

My spandex has covered me in comfort through some difficult times. Pregnancy left me blah most of the time, such that I only felt normal when my tights and I were at the barre. When my first pregnancy ended in miscarriage, spandex and that blasted double tube anchored my body and my mind in the midst of physical and emotional chaos. My spandex has also reminded me of my strength through change and the upward creep of my age. The visible curves of my muscles – even beneath the post-baby weight that might be here to stay – are proof that I can hold my own, come what may.

No, I don’t wear spandex under my preaching robe or to conferences or pastoral care visits. But you just might see me in it shopping at Target, running after my son, or grabbing coffee. I don’t don it to allure or to fit the mom dress code. It’s sort of my power suit. I invite you to put yours on too, whatever that looks like for you. Let’s be powerful and beautiful together.

I love my lists and my Google calendar. They make my chaotic life feel manageable(ish). Still, there are times when the to-dos meld into  asinglerunontask and events overlap. That’s when my brain kicks into hyperdrive, my eyes dart around my desk, and my heart picks up the pace. I’m TCBing, with output of questionable quality. I’m everywhere at once, but nowhere fully present. Maybe you can relate.

I confess that I sometimes I sing “I’m Every Woman” to myself with whiff of pride. But it’s not always (often? ever?) good to be every woman at every moment. I don’t want to be mentally running through research while eating dinner with my family. I’m not my best self as a leader if I’m sketching my sermon outline during a committee meeting. It’s hard to give good pastoral care to someone who is grieving when I’m still coming down off a tense conversation with a colleague. Yes, there are times when I have to manage multiple responsibilities, but not as often as I try to.

Hence the need for transitions: into and out of my workday, from one task to another, between conversations that require emotional awareness and sharp mental focus. Anytime a shift in mindset is warranted, I’ve got to take a moment to close one internal file and open the next. This transition allows me to consider how I want to show up for the situation I’m about to enter and to re-center myself so that I can live toward those intentions.

There are any number of ways I make the shift – sometimes more successfully than at other times, I admit. Taking deep breaths to re-set my brain. Jotting down notes about what I’ve been doing so that I can fully set that work aside and come back to it later. Doing a couple of quick yoga poses or pilates exercises. Shutting my eyes for five minutes (making sure to set an alarm!). Queueing up the playlists I’ve created for settling down and amping up. Turning over loose threads to God and asking for awareness and guidance going into whatever is next on the agenda. Taking a lap around the building.

What are the ways you transition from one task or event to the next, or even into and out of your day? Where do you need to build in a couple of minutes on the front and/or back end of your to-dos so that you can fully be you – insightful, compassionate, prophetic, gifted you – as a pastor and a person?

Are you a minister engaged in the exhilarating, overwhelming, often frustrating search & call process? I’ve ridden that roller coaster too. I’ve participated in some healthy call processes and in others that left me wondering, “What was that search team thinking? Lordamercy.”

Through all these experiences I have learned that the way a church handles its ministerial search is a big indicator of how the clergy-congregation relationship will go. That means it’s really important to be attentive to red flags in interactions with the search team. Here are ten to be on the lookout for:

Inappropriate questions. Outside of small talk, queries from a search team should stay focused on your call to ministry, qualifications, and capacity to engage fully the responsibilities of the position.

Incomplete information. Particularly if you are a finalist for a position, you have the right to obtain complete answers to your questions about the congregation, to view the church’s key documents., and to meet church leaders.

Lack of space for your questions. You are interviewing the congregation as much as the congregation is interviewing you.

Rushed search. A rush job often indicates high anxiety, which means you could be stepping into a hornet’s nest if you accept the call.

Unresolved conflict in the congregation. A church that has completed the hard work of a transition will have addressed tricky issues – or at least will have an already-activated plan for doing so that is not simply “let the next minister handle it.”

Difficult dynamics within the search team. If you can hardly see the search team members because of the elephant in the room, name the dynamics you notice and ask what’s behind them. These difficulties could be a microcosm of what’s going on in the congregation as a whole.

Inflexibility. If the search team can interview you at X date/Y time and no other options are available, for example, consider what might be behind this rigidity.

Job description that is outdated or “kitchen sink.” If the minister description has not been revised since 1957 or it would take four full-time clergy to fulfill all the duties outlined, the search team doesn’t have a good grasp on what it’s looking for.

Lack of courtesy. The best search teams communicate clearly and in a timely manner, plan for interviews and visits with hospitality in view, and don’t leave you guessing about search expenses.

Focus on hot buttons. When you’re asked where you stand on gay marriage, for example, don’t just dive in. Probe the concern behind the question.

No spiritual component. If the search team could have conducted the exact same interview in a secular hiring process, the search process may not have the requisite spiritual grounding.

If you note one or more of these red flags, don’t panic. These aren’t necessarily indications that the congregation is a train wreck or that you should immediately withdraw your name. (Most people who serve on search teams are participating in this process for the first time, and there’s a steep learning curve for calling a minister.) Do, however, proceed with caution. Do your homework. Leave no question unasked. Parse your search team interactions with a trusted colleague, coach, mentor, or judicatory leader. Mull whether this church’s challenges are a good match for your passions and your skill set.

Above all, enjoy the ride when possible, and hang in there!

Two nights before I got married, my parents, husband-to-be, and I went to dinner in the restaurant adjoining the wedding venue. The hostess – a fellow young adult – placed menus with fancy fonts in front of everyone…except for me. I got a coloring sheet and crayons.

At first, I was stunned. After I got my wits about me, though, I was boiling. I marched the kiddie menu back to the hostess stand and asked, through gritted teeth, to exchange it for a grown-up one.

I’d like to say this incident was out of the norm, but it wasn’t. (It was, however, the most embarrassing in a long line of ego-shrinking moments!) Until I had a high-energy child who quickly and visibly aged me, strangers often underestimated my age. The mismatch between my perceived and actual age ballooned into a bigger issue when I became a minister. Not only was I female, I looked like a 14-year-old. Not a great combination for being taken seriously in the pulpit, in hospital rooms, and at the funeral home. I spent a lot of time justifying my presence to others…and to myself.

All of my insecurities came to a head during my first unit of CPE. Some doctors, nurses, and hospital staffers were more open to the idea of chaplaincy than others. Once I was mid-prayer with a patient in ICU – at the request of said patient and family – when a nurse burst in and told me to go so she could perform a routine blood pressure check. I acquiesced. When I brought my frustrations to my CPE cohort, my supervisors challenged me: “Do you believe you had a right to be there? Why did you leave?” That situation was in sharp contrast with the all-night vigil I kept with a family whose patriarch was dying. They – and the doctors and nurses – welcomed my ministry. In fact, the deceased’s wife called the hospital later that week to thank me for my prayers and my presence.

Those two encounters worked on me mightily. I realized I had been waiting for others to grant me pastoral authority rather than locating it in my call and my sense of self. God has pulled me into ministry. God has equipped me and continues to do so. I won’t get it right all the time, but that’s ok. Sometimes my humanity opens opportunities for connection that perfection in pastoring would not.

There’s a certain amount of authority we gain by virtue of our education, ordination, and job title. We also earn some of it by being with our people at points of pain and celebration. But these sources cannot be the primary means of understanding ourselves as ministers. Otherwise, when we are between positions, when we don’t have our ordination certificate handy, when we are at the center of conflict, when others don’t yet know us well enough to let us in, when someone tells us to get out, we won’t have much to keep us rooted in our pastoral identity.

Instead, we must continually (because it’s not a one-and-done exercise) develop the ability to ask, “Do I deserve to be here? What are the gifts I have to offer? What is God prompting me to do here and now?” Not so that we overstep our authority, but so that we live fully into it.

I found that once I stopped questioning myself so much, so did other people. Or, at least, those moments prompted more of a willingness to educate (and, let’s be honest, some mental eye-rolling) than a vocational crisis.

Are you called by God into ministry? Are you called by God to be in ministry at this time, in this place? Has God equipped you, or is God currently equipping you to serve? Then go forth to use your gifts, embracing your identity as pastor and person.

Tomorrow is the first day of Lent, the season of preparing ourselves for the good news of Christ’s resurrection, with all that it means for us. Lent is a prime time to clear away – with God’s help – the obstacles that keep us from growing in our relationships with the divine and with humankind. Often that spring cleaning involves taking on a particular discipline, whether giving up a distraction or adding a spiritual practice. Both are great means of creating more space in our lives for love. I think I’m going to tweak those approaches a bit and focus on the barriers themselves, using different means to try to shrink them.

Shame. As Brene Brown so helpfully names, shame is a feeling of unworthiness. It is different from guilt, which is regret about an action or an omission. God has fearfully and wonderfully made me. God has fearfully and wonderfully made everyone else too, including people I do not know, like, agree with, or understand. I will seek to be more attentive to when I feel shame and when I use shame as a tactic against others.

Inaction. I have always liked to think of myself as someone who does her part to help others. In the past month – as circumstances for a number of populations have become more dire – I’ve realized I have not been doing nearly enough. I will ask God to open me to opportunities to be generous, vulnerable, and bold…and to kick me in the pants to take those opportunities.

Defensiveness. My mind screams “I’m a good person!” when someone challenges me on what I believe and how I live out those tenets. The truth is, I’m a privileged person, one who has unwittingly perpetuated a number of isms. I will engage in intentional learning about the shortcomings I’m aware of – and, no doubt, unearth more in the process. Not to feel shame, mind you, but in knowing better, to do better.

Withdrawal. It is really, really hard right now to resist pulling my head and my limbs into my shell. In some of the spaces I inhabit, very human opinions are given the weight of gospel, and the outflowing strategies are heralded as salvific. It does not feel safe to share from my heart, or even from my greater comfort center – my mind. I will effort to stay present, because conversation is one of our greatest hopes for unity.

Despair. It feels like every day another heavy, wet blanket is layered onto my tired body. Things are changing so quickly in our country and world, and (to my mind) not in a way that reflects God’s yearning for creation. I will pray continually for hope, using the scriptural phrase, “I believe, help my unbelief!”

What discipline(s) will you take up for Lent?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In several of the communities that I value, there are intense discussions happening about the nature of safe space. Whose sense of safety are we protecting? It’s an important question, one that is rooted in the reality of privilege. All of us are socially located at the intersection of our gender, race, class, sexual orientation, and other factors. Those of us with more privilege are accustomed to others deferring to our safety. I have been wrestling a lot lately with the nature of my privilege as a white, straight, cisgender, Christian, middle class person and the ways my obliviousness to that privilege has harmed others. I want to do better. I must do better. I am grateful for courageous voices that are calling me out, even if the new awareness they spark makes me uncomfortable. After all, what change was ever catalyzed by comfort?

The interactions that are urging me to examine both my innermost self and her outward manifestations are complicated. Listening and speaking can both be shut down quickly, hence the discussions about what makes space safe, and for whom. So what are some of the conversational skills that can help us hang in with one another in the midst of these tough, revealing conversations? Here are some of the thoughts I’ve had from my location as an ever-learning, trying-but-still-stumbling person of privilege:

Clarifying rather than (or at least before) advocating. Most of us speak to be understood before seeking to understand. Reversing that order – asking before telling – can stop a lot of arguments before they start.

Challenging rather than shaming. When we share our own perspectives, what is our goal? Is it to inform, to help our conversation partner grow (challenging), or to make him/her feel bad about her/his status or opinion (shaming)? Information and challenge can strengthen relationships. Shame rarely does that.

Defaulting to belief rather than doubt. Assume that the person saying something hard to hear is telling the truth.

Using “I” rather than “you.” “I” statements (“I feel angry when…” as opposed to “you make me angry”) are basic communication skills, yet we rarely use them. Starting a sentence with “you” tends to put hearers on defense. “I” signals I’m about to talk from my experience.

Avoiding exceptionalism. Don’t leap to self-defense when someone calls out privilege. Instead, take a moment to consider whether that person might be right.

Striving for unity rather than uniformity. We will never all agree. That is ok. But we can look for shared values and purpose to rally around. And in doing so, we will better get to know one another, our histories, and our points of view.

What would you push back on, delete from, or add to this list?

God of all creation,

you made the world we know out of a dark and formless void.

Before your breath swept across the face of the waters,

there was no light.

No sky.

No land.

No way of marking time.

No vegetation.

No animals.

No humans.

You made everything out of nothing, out of chaos.

And it was all good.

On behalf of everyone whose life feels out of control this morning,

who wonders how anything good could come out of such mess,

we pray to you this morning.

Where there is fear, let there be courage.

Where there is discord, let there be unity.

Where there is sickness, let there be healing.

Where there is oppression, let there be liberation.

Where there is loneliness, let there be connection.

Where there is worry, let there be peace.

Where there is want, let there be enough.

Use us, your people, to bring about all of this good,

because in your blueprint,

you bestowed upon humankind responsibility for all living things.

Prompt each one of us,

whether we are the leader of the free world

or have no formal position of power,

to use the skills and influence you have given us

in ways that make your world a place that is more just

more interdependent

more joyful

more beautiful

more sustainable.

These things we ask in the name of Jesus,

who came to redeem the brokenness in all that you made,

and by the power of the Spirit, which recreates us on a daily basis. Amen.

It’s a strange world we live in. In some ways, our relationships are stronger than ever, thanks in large part to technology. In other ways, we are more disconnected from each other than we’ve ever been (at least partially due, ironically, to the ways we use technology).

Whatever the state of our relationships, it never hurts to reinforce them. After all, they are the primary means for creating circles of care, affecting change, and ushering joy into the world. I’ve developed a list of ten ways to strengthen relationships in this still-young year. They can be applied to individual bonds, teamwork, and our walk with God.

Deepen trust. Without authentic trust, relationships will always stay at a surface level. What small risk are you willing to take to show the real you? How might you invite others to do the same?

Add a layer of communication. We generally believe we’ve been heard better than we actually have been. How can you relay important information in an additional, different way so that everyone is operating from a shared understanding?

Share stories. Narrative is the root and food of knowing and being known. It prompts people to laugh, mourn, and plot together. What anecdote or arc speaks to where you are or how you’re feeling today? Who needs to hear it? Whose stories do you want to seek out?

Reflect on the relationship. Ok, it’s awkward, but it never hurts to ask for feedback on how the relationship is going. What’s working (and not) for him/her? For you? Disconnects can’t be repaired if they aren’t identified.

Embrace conflict. Conflict is simply a difference of opinion. It doesn’t have to come with all the baggage we tend to load onto it. Being forthright – in respectful ways – about our disagreements allows us to learn, and our openness to one another in moments of dissent breeds trust.

Help one another be fully engaged in the relationship. Everyone’s personality is different. As an extreme introvert, for example, I need lots of alone time to be fully present with people. Know and own your quirks, and support others in theirs.

Examen each day. Engage in some sort of reflection at the end of each day. How was I a good friend? How did I fall short? Utilizing the spiritual practice of examen opens up the possibilities even more. Where did I notice God at work today? How did I aid in or hinder the in-breaking of God’s peace?

Increase your curiosity. Instead of imagining someone’s beliefs or motives, ask: tell me what you were thinking when… What did you hope to accomplish by…? We usually default to assuming the worst, and often the truth is better (or at least more complex) than what we thought.

Start from common values or vision. Consider what all parties can affirm. Even if there are differing ideas about how to approach problems, there can be shared commitments underlying them. That’s a much more promising starting point for connection and for change.

Affirm one another. Name what you appreciate in one another. Be specific, and focus on attitudes and actions rather than appearance. Not only does a genuine compliment provide a serotonin boost, it also helps people identify and navigate from their strengths.

Which of these ideas could you begin implementing today? What would you add to this list?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes inspiration comes from unexpected places. Recently it ambushed me by way of an interview that entertainer/faux (?) journalist Samantha Bee conducted with pundit Glenn Beck. (If you click on the link, be prepared for strong language.) In it Bee and Beck, who inhabit opposite ends of the political spectrum, acknowledged that they have more in common than it seems. They celebrated their fledgling friendship by sharing a strange bedfellows cake.

That liberals and conservatives can work together on issues affecting us all was no surprise to me. What did catch me off guard was Glenn Beck’s warning that Samantha Bee was in danger of becoming – like him – a “catastrophist,” someone who reads the worst into every headline. As the earth has shifted beneath my feet the past couple of months, I’ve had to refocus myself continually on hope, courage, and justice. In those many moments when I’ve been less than successful at this, I too have been tiptoeing into catastrophist territory. (Vigilance and action are warranted in such a time as this. Catastrophism, however, consumes physical, mental, and spiritual energy that could be used more constructively.)

Surprised by this self-knowledge, three adjectives popped to mind, and they will serve as my touchstones for the year. I aim to be:

Curious. What’s really happening in this situation? What do I not yet understand? What’s going on inside of me? Denial and assumptions rarely lead to the best course of action.

Present. Who is around me? What do they need from me? What do I need so that I can stay engaged, insofar as it is productive? Insulating ourselves from the hopes and fears of others has led to a fractured church and a deeply-divided country.

Resilient. How will I stoke my resolve to be kind when kindness is not returned? To be brave when I am scared? To see things as they are, but still move forward in the confidence that this bad thing is not the last thing? 2017 promises many setbacks to the commitments I hold dear, but as matters of faith and integrity, I must keep showing up.

This is my mindset as we begin the new year. What word(s), phrase, quote, or song is guiding you? Let’s support and hold one another accountable.

As 2016 becomes 2017, many folks will be making resolutions for the new year. Good intentions can quickly give way to frustration and guilt, though, if ample thought isn’t put into creating these goals. And who wants to start the year with frustration and guilt, especially considering the 12-month dumpster fire we’ve just collectively endured?

Here, then, are a few ideas for setting goals for 2017:

Consider the “why” behind the “what.” What are the reasons you want to read a novel per month, take on additional responsibility at work, or expand your circle of friends? If you’re sensing a nudge from the Spirit, tapping into an abiding desire, or coming up against a make-or-break moment (e.g., major health risk, request from a supervisor), you’ll have a better chance of succeeding than if you’re operating out of a sense of “should.”

Focus on what you can control. Want to lose 10 pounds? For some, that goal is attainable in a month. For others, it could be a year-long aim. There’s only so much we can do about our body’s chemistry and various environmental factors. We have much more control, however, over our actions. It could be more helpful, then, to frame goals accordingly: I will eat two more servings of vegetables per day, I will take 30 minutes of my lunchtime each day to walk around my workplace.

Note that there’s a step between doing differently and being different. Change usually begins with an alteration in routine. But for the change to stick, there must eventually be a shift to seeing things differently – not just “I teach,” for example, but “I am a teacher.” This new perspective is the midway point between trying something new and becoming a wholly new person.

Set sub-goals and celebrate when you achieve them. It’s easy to get discouraged when you set a big goal – even if it’s one that comes from deep within – and seem to be making only slight progress, or even taking two steps forward and one step back. Bite-size your resolution. If you’re a novice athlete who wants to run a 5K, first make a plan to run two minutes without stopping, then work up to five minutes, and so on. And reward yourself when you hit those smaller marks!

Build in support. Ask someone you trust to cheerlead and check in with you. If you’re concerned that this is requesting too much from a loved one, partner with someone who has a similar resolution, trade accountability and encouragement with a friend who has set a different goal, or hire a professional to help you stay on track.

Focus outward as well as inward. Don’t just consider resolutions focused on self-improvement. Think about ways you can make the world around you better with the achievement of your goals. We need these kinds of efforts now more than ever.

As you make plans for the coming year, consider how a coach might help you address challenges and meet goals.

May your 2017 start out with hope, and may your resolutions be a means for stoking that hope in the months to come.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’d had pretty much the same hairstyle for twenty years. Somewhere between chin and shoulders in length, with long layers. This look suited me well enough, I guess. There was no complicated styling involved. I didn’t have to buy any product. I could throw my hair in a ponytail when I wanted. Still, I was craving something different.

I researched short hairstyles, asking friends with cute hair to send me pictures and details on what it took to get their coiffures to look that way. I set aside some money for a cut in a real! salon! because it seemed too risky to make a big change for $7.99 at Great Clips. I asked around for stylist recommendations. I was ready…or was I? I kept putting off making the appointment. No time for a haircut this week…I don’t want to still be figuring out how to tame my new ‘do when X event rolls around…I remember being confused when I was in preschool and my mom made a drastic hair change, and I don’t want to do that to my son.

And then said son began protesting whenever I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, which was most of my at-home hours. “No! Take it out!” He even became quite adept at pulling out my ponytail holder before I even realized what was happening. It was time for the haircut.

So I did it. I went to the grown-up salon and had all the hair that had been weighing me down whacked off. I had been wanting and plotting for a while, but I had to feel a pinch to get myself in gear.

This is the state that many of our churches find themselves in. They want to follow their evolving call from God. Often they already have the resources and have even made some concrete plans for how to move forward. Something, however, is holding them back. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s comfort. These congregations need to feel the pinch before they’re willing to make the leap.  

Sometimes the pinch happens naturally. A staff transition necessitates re-evaluation of leadership needs. The property next to the church goes up for sale. A local service agency invites the congregation into a partnership that would benefit both entities and the community as a whole. A shrinking budget prompts discussion about the best use of resources.

Sometimes, however, leaders who have latched onto God’s dream for the congregation need to help their constituents feel the pinch. How might you help the people you minister alongside discover both the opportunity in and urgency for potential change?

It’s election day in the United States. The whole country has been counting down to this moment since, well, the 2012 general election, given our never-ending campaign cycle. And this has been a political season for the history books. First female presidential candidate put forth by a major party. First presidential candidate who has hosted his own reality tv show. The first time a former President and a former First Spouse could end up swapping roles.

All of these firsts have been overshadowed by the unprecedented rancor that has characterized this election. Each party believes the other’s candidate is a harbinger of the end times. There’s no space for real dialogue about differences in policy when the rhetoric is accusatory if not downright abusive. And there’s little reason to hope for a change in tone when the candidates won’t even shake hands after their debates.

By tomorrow morning, the election will have been decided unless we have a replay of 2000 or the vote gets kicked to the House. And we’ll all have to find a way forward – together. We cannot stay in our red and blue and whatever-color-third-parties-are camps. But I’m not gonna lie, because of the mistrust bred (deepened?) by this political cycle, it will be hard to unify under this President-elect. But unify we must. Not only does the future of our republic depend on it, so does our ability to call ourselves people whose life source is Love.

Here are the best ways to start, so far as I know:

Care for one another. Start simple by doing something nice for someone who believes differently from you. Drop off some brownies. Loan out your favorite novel. Blow the leaves off your neighbor’s driveway while you’re clearing off yours.

Seek out and listen to one another’s stories. We’ve got to acknowledge the humanity in each other again. The narrative you share doesn’t have to be from the depths of your soul, at least not at first. Swap anecdotes from your week.

Focus on our common interests and challenges. Democrats and Republicans and people of other parties have different ideas about how to get things done. But we share many of the same ideals. If we can identify those points of intersection and work together from there – instead of leaping ahead to contrast our proposed solutions – we might just spark some creativity and new understanding in one another.

We’ve got a lot of work ahead. We can – we must – do it. May God equip and embolden us to be agents of connection in a world that so desperately needs our hope and our outstretched hands.