In some denominations, most or all resumes or profiles come through a national or regional office. For congregations that receive this candidate information directly, however, there are several schools of thought about which applicants to consider:

Everyone. The search team will look at all resumes, whether they were sent directly by the candidate or by someone else on the candidate’s behalf.

Pro: you might find stellar candidates who weren’t on any influencer’s radar.

Con: you might have a tall stack to sort through, with resumes that need a closer read than those who were referred.

Consider: what difference does it make to your search team - if any - when a minister self-refers?  

Only candidates who are not looking. Some congregations don't like to advertise at all. Instead, they look for ministers who are doing good work where they happily serving.

Pro: this minister is likely competent, already being at a church.

Con: there are many great candidates out there who are looking for reasons other than because they are un-callable. (Maybe their positions were downsized, or they were victims of sexual harassment, or they have just not yet found the right fit.)

Consider: would you would want another congregation to lure your (content) minister away?

Only candidates who are referred by trusted sources. It's becoming a more common practice to solicit names from seminary faculty, consultants, and ministers who are friends of the congregation.

Pros: these candidates have built-in references and are well-networked.

Cons: you might get roughly the same list from every source, who in turn might be giving that list to other churches.

Consider: what questions you might ask your sources to uncover less obvious – and therefore a better range of – candidates?

Whatever approach your search team chooses for gathering candidate profiles, consider ministers who would stretch your congregation and remember to be hospitable in all your interactions. Communicate with everyone whose resume or profile you receive, and affirm candidates’ gifts even as you tell them you will not be continuing conversations.

I believe that the foundation for healthy mutual ministry is laid in the pre-covenanting conversations that clergy and congregations have with one another – namely, the search & call process. It’s a time of determining whether our strengths and purpose align with a church’s needs and mission. It’s a means of sussing out whether there’s a possibility of the two parties growing and serving together, of belonging to one another. It’s an imagining of what could be as minister and ministry setting leave behind what is known.

Because of its importance, this season of discernment can be at turns exhilarating, overwhelming, and downright frustrating for ministers looking for a great-fit position. Search teams move at different speeds, and some are more communicative than others. It can be hard to know how to present ourselves (on paper and in person) in compelling ways. We usually get gut-punched by “no” a few times before we can celebrate a “yes.” And even after a call has been extended, there are so many details to tend to – salary negotiations, leaving the current position gracefully, moving, starting the new position well.

It’s a lot. Sailing Uncertain Seas: A Workbook for Navigating the Search & Call Process is here to help. First published last year, I’ve strengthened some of the coaching questions and added six pages of content to the second edition, primarily around the end of the call process. Here’s what the workbook covers:

• 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?

You can print off a PDF of the workbook and use the coaching questions within to prepare for each phase of your search.

If you’re looking to make a move, this 64-page guide is a great place to start. Click here to purchase it. (Note that a free copy of Sailing Uncertain Seas is included in a search & call coaching package. If you’re interested in learning more, go here to schedule an exploratory call.)

When candidates find out your position is open, their first action will be to visit your church’s website. For a candidate to begin imagining a future with your congregation, it is essential to have a web presence that is informative and aesthetically-pleasing. Here are some important details to include:

High-resolution photos of church members in action. Use pictures of actual congregants (after asking parents to sign photo releases for the use of their children’s likenesses), and make sure at least some of the photos show people doing something other than sitting in a circle or around a table. 

Statements of identity and direction. Tell what your church values and what goals it is working toward.

Key ministries. How does your congregation connect with the community through giving money and providing hands-on help? What programs exist for the people who come through your doors?

Visitor information. Make it easy for candidates to understand more about your context with a map. Tell them about the culture of your church by sharing expectations about dress, accessibility details, and information for parents. Include a few carefully-chosen photos of the physical plant, such as a view of the church from the road.

Affiliations. A congregation’s denominational and community partners reveal much about its priorities.

Position announcement and related information (if conducting a pastor search). Putting your position description, church profile, and community snapshot on your webpage is an inexpensive way to share a lot of information with a wide swath of potential candidates. 

Your church’s website does not have to be expensive or overly-designed. It does need to be regularly updated, easy to navigate, and revelatory. The effort is worth it, not just for your pastor search but also for potential visitors to your congregation.

What would you add to this list?

I am someone who dreams pretty intensely. Maybe it’s because I have a hard time turning off my mind at night. Or it could be that the podcast I have to listen to in order to quiet my brain plants wild notions in my head. Neither explanation accounts for a very detailed conversation I had last night with Nick Saban, who sought out my advice because his board chair was unwilling or unable to innovate. Luckily for Saban, my freshman roommate wandered by, and a couple of Tennessee grads tag-teamed a leadership strategy for the most powerful man in college football. (See what I mean? Vivid. And weird.)

Occasionally, though, I dream the seed of an actionable idea. Such was the case recently when I sleep-designed a resource for ministers. This weekly calendar with reflection prompts is aimed at bringing more intentionality to our lives. Each day has morning and evening coaching questions. In between, the days are divided into three blocks of time. Those blocks can be used to list appointments, to divvy up tasks, or to designate work and leisure time. (In the units of time approach, every day has three units: morning, afternoon, and evening. Full-time work is 10-12 units per week. Subscribers to this method usually recommend booking no more than 2-3 evening work commitments and taking 3-6 blocks off in a row for full rejuvenation per week.)

Below you will find a JPEG of this weekly calendar. Here is an 8.5 x 11″ grayscale PDF. I welcome you to download, print, use this resource. You are also encouraged to share it with others who might benefit.

When searching for a new minister, it is vitally important to discern what each candidate’s strengths are and how they align with your position description. Strengths are God-given talents. They are central to a person’s identity. They are manifestations of passion and purpose.

Skills are a bit different. We pick up skills through education and experience. They are add-ons. They’re important too, but some skills are better indicators of fit than others. If the skill is built on top of one of my strengths, then it enhances my ability to live fully into my call. If the skill is something I’ve learned out of necessity – not because it aligns with my purpose – then it can actually be a distraction, even if it’s a really useful ability. For example, I have taken several pastoral care classes and spent many hours making hospital and home visits. I’m pretty decent at it. Pastoral care, however, is not my natural gift. It takes substantial time for me to rev up for and recover from this work. If your church needed someone who would spend 10+ hours per week checking on folks, then I would not be your ideal candidate. My energy is increased, though, by coaching people toward action, writing sermons, and attending to details, and I’ve developed a range of skills that build on these strengths. I would thrive in a context that wanted me to preach once a month, plan ministries, proofread newsletters, and coach ministry leaders.

Most candidate resumes and profiles will include strengths, skills that relate to these strengths, and skills that don’t. It is important for your search team to develop questions that distinguish among these three categories. When are you most engaged in ministry? What pieces of ministry drain you? How would you state your purpose in ministry in one sentence?

A great-fit candidate will be one whose strengths, associated skills, and sources of energy match your congregation’s priorities. That minister will be able to give maximum effort and be set up to thrive.

Note: I wrote but did not publish this reflection one year ago upon attending my last The Young Clergy Women Project/Young Clergy Women International conference. I offer it now as clergywomen from a number of denominations and locales gather in St. Louis.

I departed my first – the first – Young Clergy Women Project conference in inner turmoil. In 2007 I was floundering in ministry. As a moderate-to-progressive Baptist, congregations in northwest Alabama that aligned with my theology were scarce, and open positions in them were rare. Yet as the spouse of a United Methodist pastor under appointment, I had no say in where I lived. Just before the conference I was called to a staff position at a nearby church. This opportunity was a huge relief to my self-esteem and my bank account. I would be in ministry full time! With benefits! My start date was set for the Sunday after I returned home from the conference at the Cathedral College of Preachers in Washington, DC.

My relief morphed into exhilaration and then plummeted to an “oh, crap” feeling over the course of the TYCWP conference. Something in me was unleashed through that gathering of clergywomen, through our study and practice of homiletics. Maybe it was my preaching voice. Maybe it was clarity about the shape of my call. Maybe it was a sense that I was settling for a position that didn’t match my gifts in a setting that had already shown glimmers of toxicity. Whatever it was, it told me I had no business beginning my new position. As I traveled home, my husband was on a retreat and unavailable to help me process. My parents could only commiserate. So I went to work that Sunday, a sour feeling in my gut.

As you might imagine, the eight months I served at that church were not pretty. (I claim my part in the debacle. I was too fearful to heed the gut-jabbing elbows of the Holy Spirit.) In the end, I was forced out. I probably would no longer be in ministry after that experience. Except…I now had a community of YCWs who had helped me claim a new understanding of my ministry at the conference. Who afterward accompanied me through the many low points of my short-lived job. Who picked me back up when I was emotionally, spiritually, mentally, and sometimes even physically prostrate following my resignation.

And so, as frantic as my inner monologue and as chaotic as my vocational life became out of that first TYCWP conference, I couldn’t imagine not going to the next one. In fact, I’ve been to all of them but one, which got pushed off my calendar by a mission trip. All of them have been great. A few have been life-altering.

The conference is (by far) my most extroverted week of the year, when I float between groups of conference participants, skip naps and stay up late for conversations – if you know me well, you get that this is not my usual M.O. – and drink up all the wisdom and laughter I can. Those of us who have been attending conferences since those early days get to check in annually after tracking one another’s family additions and losses, changes in positions, and cross-country moves on social media throughout the year prior. Those of us older young clergy women also get to welcome first-time attendees and learn about the latest practices and resources from pastors just coming out of seminary.

This month’s Young Clergy Women International conference – the organization, like my own tenure in ministry, is no longer tenuous – was my last one, as I’ll turn 40 shortly. It felt like coming full circle. I arrived at the closing worship with a settled spirit, celebrating that I am feeling more creative and productive in ministry than ever before. After the sermon, proclaimer Casey Wait asked each participant to describe herself with a single word, to tell that word to another YCW, and to receive affirmation and anointing from that colleague. My word came immediately: encourager. Some YCWs laughed and nodded in confirmation when I told them my word.  I am an encourager. I am an encourager because so many YCWs have encouraged me by recognizing and calling forth my gifts, by sharing with me about the amazing ministry they are doing, and by telling me to rock my new haircut. I am who I am as a person and pastor in large part because of this community. And I am ready to leave it in the capable hands of young clergy women, which I no longer am, and support it from afar as I re-join friends who have gone on to the alumnae group.

Bless you, YCWI. Keep on doing great things for the people of God, in the name of God.

When your congregation is between pastors, there will be times lay leaders will need to arrange for pulpit supply. Here are some tips for extending hospitality to your guest preacher:

Pay generously, or at least fairly. High-quality sermons generally take at least ten hours to research and write. Do the math and make sure you are compensating a professional with an advanced degree accordingly. Multiply the pay if there's more than one worship service. And if your preacher is coming from out of town, reimburse mileage and cover a hotel room.

Think through what it is reasonable to request a guest to do. Worship logistics vary greatly from one church to another, and there’s a lot that isn’t written on the order of worship. Plus, it's odd for a guest to give the welcome (“Welcome to this church. I’m here for the first time too!”) and greet people coming forward to make commitments at the end of the service. (“I’m happy to invite you into this faith community that I don’t belong to.”) Minimize the potential for confusion and awkwardness by asking the preacher to do only what laypeople or staff cannot. 

Ask if the minister would like to take on particular piece of the order or worship. For example, I like to read the primary scripture text myself, because I use inflection and pacing that set the stage for the sermon.

Make sure the preacher has a point of contact who will be onsite. Give a name and a cell phone number in case your guest gets lost or has car trouble. Let the minister know where to park and at which entrance the point of contact will be waiting.

Physically walk the visiting minister through the order of worship. Related to point #2 above, help the preacher know where and when to sit and walk and stand. Rehearse the communion liturgy, if applicable.

Don’t make the preacher chase down the check. Give payment before worship. That way the minister isn’t worried that getting paid depends on making hearers happy, and the minister doesn’t have to ask to be paid.

Thank your pulpit supply. Many guest preachers do so on top of many other work and personal responsibilities. Appreciate them for taking 10+ hours to prepare a sermon, 1-1.5 hours to be in worship (more so if there’s a second service), and however long to drive to your church.

Aside from the gifts that hospitality offers to your guest preacher, treating your pulpit supply well will let potential candidates for your ministry position know that they should check out your church. (Clergy talk to one another!)

Ministers, what would you add to this list?

I was done. I had spent four days presenting, networking, and wearing only moderately comfortable shoes at General Assembly. I was grateful and better for the interactions, but I was also ready to crawl into a hole and hibernate. The problem was, I had an 8:50 pm flight (delayed a half hour, naturally) and then an hour drive home once I landed. So I was grumpy when I boarded the plane.

Thank goodness I was booked on Southwest. At the start of my trip, I was glad because this meant I had a non-stop flight to the smaller and closer airport, plus I could check a bag for free. (A luxury these days!) At the end of my trip, flying Southwest meant that the crew was free of the staidness of other airlines. The safety demonstration, then, included reminders about not using your neighbor as a flotation device, putting on your own oxygen mask and then turning to your seatmate to decide “if it’s worth it,” and using the emergency exits and slides in case the captain decided to go shark fishing. The lead flight attendant used funny voices and a few dance moves to share other pertinent information. And when we landed, he informed us that the local temperature was 37 degrees. (At 11:00 pm, it was 90.)

I’m sure I wasn’t the only cranky person at boarding time. Yet, when we disembarked (late) into the muggy night, almost everyone I saw was smiling. This borderline-miracle seemed instructive. The flight attendant’s humor:

Caught my attention. Confession: I never listen to the safety information. It’s always the same. But I turned off my headphones because I didn’t want to miss any of the standup act.

Lifted my spirits. I was worried about driving home at my fatigue level, and I dreaded my human alarm waking me up early the next morning, as much as I couldn’t wait to see him. I felt more awake and refreshed for the journey after a few laughs.

Made me want to engage with others. As a raging introvert, I avoid conversations on planes by listening to podcasts and trying to nap. But my improved mood made me open to looking at internet memes with the stranger sitting next to me.

Was contagious. Laughter – like yawning – often is.

When in our work could a bit of well-timed humor do wonders for the atmosphere and productivity? Maybe a committee meeting when everyone is zoned out. Or a congregational gathering where those present are discussing unavoidable (and expensive) repairs to the building. Or even a funeral. (That’s probably not the best venue to work on your Jim Gaffigan “Hot Pockets” voice, but some self-deprecation might do.)

Good-natured humor humanizes and connects. Tuck it into your toolkit for a time when you need to shrink the dimensions of your meeting space.

SPOILER ALERT: this post contains plot points of “The Americans” series finale.

They actively undermined the United States government. They killed dozens of people, some of them just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. They used sex to manipulate those with power or access. They spat upon faith, calling it “the opiate of the masses.” And yet, I cared about “The Americans” characters Philip and Elizabeth Jennings, longtime Russian spies posing as upwardly-mobile travel agents and parents of two in 1980s DC.

Showrunners Joe Weisberg and Joel Fields made these enemies of the state relatable through masterful storytelling. We saw Philip and Elizabeth’s struggles with ideology and morality. With raising kids born into a culture they were taught to despise. With growing together and apart multiple times, ultimately trusting their partnership despite their diverging outlooks on the state of the world. They were three-dimensional characters. So too was Stan, the FBI counterintelligence agent who moved in across the street in the pilot. Stan was a true patriot and an unfaithful husband, bedding a KGB officer he (thought he) had turned.

So when the series finale aired last month, I was invested. Philip and Elizabeth had been exposed. Would they be able to escape? Stan had realized the truth about the neighbors he regularly shared meals with. How would the inevitable confrontation go? And what about the kids – college student Paige, who had been recruited into the spy business, and high school junior Henry, who had nary a clue about his parents’ true identities?

Stan’s ambush – and ultimate release – of Philip, Elizabeth, and Paige was anxious and heartfelt. For me the real gut punch, though, was the severing of the parent-child bonds. Philip decided Henry’s best shot at a normal life was to abandon him in the only country he’s ever known. In a surprise move, Paige hopped off the train she and her parents are traveling on just before it crosses the U.S.-Canadian border. All of these decisions, so permanent, yet made so quickly out of necessity. I haven’t been able to view the finale again yet. It’s too raw – and this for someone who thinks her feelings.

But maybe my re-watch hesitation has nothing to do with the show. I wonder if it’s actually about the real-time crisis happening on our southern border. Sure, Philip and Elizabeth might never see their kids again. But their children were more or less grown and able to get along on their own. They remained in places familiar to them, where they spoke the same language as most everyone else. They were untethered from their parents’ uncertain destinies by the sacrifice. One of kids was able to choose her own fate. And, of course, they were fictional characters.

None of this is the case for Central American families moving north into the U.S., seeking better, safer lives, many of them engaging the proper channels for asylum. Instead, children – even infants – were being whisked away with no guarantee of when or whether they will see their parents again. (While the executive order means newly-entering families are being detained together, it does nothing to help the children who have already been separated and farmed out to various “welfare” agencies.) Even if you’re not a parent, we were all once small children. Imagine being separated from your mom and dad, held in a cage or an abandoned Wal-mart, put on a plane to another state while no one is really keeping tabs on your location, supervised by people who are forbidden to hold and comfort you in your confusion and distress. It’s traumatizing. It’s inhumane. And if faith doesn’t compel us to action, maybe we are just taking in “the opiate of the masses.”

If I can care about Russian spies on tv, then surely I – we – can have compassion for the flesh-and-blood children of God, coming to our country with hopes of contributing to it, of raising their intact families in it. God help me if I don’t advocate for them exponentially more fervently than I love a tv show that was, at its root, about humanizing the other. May we all be watching – and calling and protesting – the real-life Americans who are causing irreparable harm.

“What are you taking away from this conversation?” “Hope.”

The coaching calls that end this way are my fuel. Many clergywomen pastor through difficulties that can be traced back to the glass cliff, sexism in general, or the anxiety that often flares up in congregations. They minister with creativity, authenticity, grace, and power.

Still, even these fierce women run up on situations that are tough to unknot without a conversation partner. Because they live with these realities every day, they need help zooming out from minutiae, sorting through complex dynamics, and determining what their roles are in particular scenarios. In short, they need someone to draw them out of their overwhelm.

It is a joy and privilege when I get to help my coachees see situations from new angles, consider how they want to show up and what it will take to do that, strategize next steps, and realize the value of what they are already doing. This is what hope is – not wishful thinking, but the ability to see a clear way forward that had previously been obscured. This is the essence of what I work to offer my coaches.

Fantastic clergywomen, thank you for letting me be in your orbit. You give me hope.

In the secular world an employee is hired to perform a task, to fill a need. The process for hiring this employee is somewhat utilitarian and transactional.

In the church world a pastor is also called to carry out a particular position description. But beyond bullet points on a job announcement, clergy and congregation are brought together to belong to one another. Unlike in secular work, a minister cannot live fully into the role without developing deep bonds with parishioners, without journeying toward the heart of God with them, without working alongside them to be the hands and feet of God beyond the perimeters of the property. And sometimes the pastor has a family who joins in this belonging as well.

This is why the search for a clergyperson must be approached differently than the search for an accountant, a machine operator, a boat captain, or a cartoonist. A ministerial search is a chance for the search team and congregation to embody all of what we know to be true about Christ and that we hope to become ourselves. To grow in faith and understanding. To offer hospitality. To listen to voices others might dismiss. To work hard yet playfully with our ultimate purpose firmly in mind. To trust and be trustworthy. To face challenges head on. To pray fervently and often. In all of these efforts, we expand our capacity for belonging to one another and to God and make it possible for the new pastor to become one of us.

In short, the search is a chance for the church to be the church. I urge you to seize this opportunity!

A couple of weeks ago I wrapped up a three-session course on resilience in ministry with some fantastic clergywomen. We talked about the emotional labor that gets dumped on us by parishioners – bless their hearts – and the ways it siphons off both professional and personal joy. The question that popped into my mind was, “What do we need to refuse to care about more than our people do?” One of the participants anticipated that I was going to use the word “carry” instead of “care,” a leap that took us into rich discussion. Maybe we shouldn’t refuse to care. Maybe we can’t not care. But that doesn’t mean we have to carry all the worry and responsibility – especially around this emotional work – that others offer us.

I can care that you’re in conflict with another church member without inserting myself into the conflict.

I can care that your feelings were hurt by not being nominated for a lay leadership role while remaining clear that the decision was a good one.

I can care that you don’t think I visited you often enough in the hospital without doubting my intentionality around how I spend my ministry time.

I can care that you heard my sermon in a way I did not intend and still trust that the Spirit did its work in and through me.

Caring vs. carrying all boils down to the hard work of self-differentiation: here is where you end and I begin. When we are clear about our strengths, purpose, and role, we can begin to crawl out from the weight of others’ expectations while remaining connected to the people around us.

What burden do you need to lay down?

You might be wondering why Searching for the Called emphasizes trust-building with candidates (and other affected parties) throughout the process, then pushes for extensive discussion and clarity around the nuts and bolts of the agreement in the covenanting phase. If congregation and clergy trust each other, shouldn’t that be enough? Why do we need to name and put expectations of one another and the terms of call in writing?

Leadership changes. The chair of your search team or governing board might know all the details that went into covenanting and compensation conversations, but what happens when that person is no longer in that position, leaves the church, or dies?

Memory fails us. We often give our recall ability more credit than it deserves. It’s easy to forget or mis-remember, and often the people in the room will later recount the same conversation in divergent ways.

Documents provide touchstones. How is the pastor-parish relationship going? You can compare its current state to the promises you put on paper, then course-correct as needed.

Assumptions breed problems. Unvoiced ideas lead to clashes in expectations, which can quickly escalate.

Transparency breeds even greater trust. Nothing undergirds a healthy relationship more effectively than meticulousness and forthrightness.

Get the details in writing. Your church will save itself a lot of conflict and heartache – which distract from the work of ministry - down the road.

Walking with swagger. Talking over and down to people. Taking credit for others’ ideas. Overestimating one’s abilities. These are the hallmarks of arrogance. Too often those around us – and sometimes even we ourselves – mischaracterize these actions as confidence.

This is another reason I believe that many women are put off from claiming their self-assurance. In last week’s post I talked about our difficulties getting past perfectionism and embracing failure. Just as abhorrent to us, though, is the thought of being lumped in with people who are unable to read the other people in the room and honor their contributions.

Confidence, at its heart, is our ability to trust our own competence and experience. It affects perception – our own and others’ of us – and our actual performance. But it is not a one-size-fits-all suit. As Katty Kay and Claire Shipman point out in The Confidence Code, we can tailor confidence to our personality and, when needed, our environment. In fact, we have to custom-make it, or else we’ll look like someone playing dress-up. And we’ll lose any of the benefits to our sense of self and people’s views of us that confidence offers.

Authentic self-assurance must include an ever-growing understanding of ourselves and a willingness to act (and to fail). It has to avoid denial of our gifts and contributions, our growing edges and shortcomings. Beyond these parameters, however, we can define how we show up as confident people. We can be humble. We can collaborate and share credit. We can be quietly self-possessed.

Don’t let anyone convince you that you must be braggy and bossy to show confidence, if that’s not your style. Rest in your belief that that’s not you, and carry on in your perfectly-suited self-assurance.

Scenario 1: Your search team is interviewing a candidate by Skype. You’ve told the candidate to expect an hour-long conversation. At minute 57, you ask if the candidate has any questions for the team. The candidate looks miffed, flustered, or a combination of the two.

Scenario 2: Your search team has narrowed the pool of candidates still in consideration to two, and you’re ready to start setting up in-person conversations. One of the candidates asks about your intended timeline for the remainder of the search, because this candidate has been invited to preach to another searching congregation in the coming weeks. You are taken aback.

Scenario 3: Your search team and finance committee have agreed on a salary package for the candidate of choice. The candidate, upon seeing the package, has lots of questions and a counter-offer. You start to worry if the church and candidate will be able to agree on terms.

Your search team is listening deeply for God’s guidance throughout the process. Sometimes, though - in the midst of details and excitement and church members’ anxiety – it is easy to forget that candidates are doing their own discernment work. Candidates need space to ask their questions about the congregation and the position. (You want them to ask! Their queries can tell you a lot about their experience, perceptiveness, and interview preparation.) Candidates are likely talking with other pastor-less churches who are at various points in their searches, unless you and the candidate have agreed that you are in the negotiation phase. Candidates want to make sure that they will have the compensation they need to pay off seminary debt, live close to your congregation, and focus on ministry.

For the fit to be great, both church and candidate must explore every data point, every issue, and every gut feeling, praying that God will speak clearly through the collated information. As a search team, don’t hesitate to ask at each stage, “What questions do we need to answer and what information do we need to provide to our candidates before they even ask?” This openness will breed trust and assist discernment in both directions.

“The Joe Lamb Award for Outstanding Youth Leadership goes to Laura Stephens.” I remember where in the worship space I was sitting, what I was wearing, and how doubtful I was that my jelly-fied legs would carry me to the front. I had never considered myself a leader in youth group. For that matter, up until the year prior, I wouldn’t even have called myself a willing participant in anything church-related. But with this public recognition of my gifts, a sense of call began to awaken within me. And my longtime struggle with the lack of inclusive language and female ministerial leadership in the Southern Baptist Convention intensified, because as a lifelong Baptist I saw no clear path for living into my call.

So I did what all nerds do when they run up on a problem: I studied. In my last two years of college I researched and wrote an honors thesis (very wordily) entitled “Attempting to Eschew The Handmaid’s Tale: The Interplay of Denominational Politics, Biblical Interpretations, and Women’s Ordination in the Southern Baptist Convention.” Through this project I learned about how women were gaining ground in Baptist leadership until the well-orchestrated fundamentalist takeover of the SBC in the 1980s. I read how the Convention’s adoption of a resolution that blamed women for the fall of humankind was critical to the fundamentalists’ platform. And I noted that the banning of women from ordination and the relegation of women to complementary status was essential to the fundamentalists’ plans to retain power over the long haul.

What then was I to do as a Southern Baptist woman called to ministry, now educated in the forces I was up against? My first impulse was to run from Baptist life like my hair was on fire. I went to a United Methodist seminary. I started denomination-shopping on Sunday. Nowhere felt homey to me. Then one evening I was watching the late news in my apartment. A local Baptist congregation was being disfellowshipped from the state convention for its inclusivity. I was in a pew at this church the next Sunday. Women prayed from the pulpit. I had never witnessed even this, much less a woman preaching. I cried in my seat.

This church was starting a Wednesday night series on what it means to be Baptist. A professor from a nearby seminary spoke about Baptists’ emphasis on the freedom to relate directly with God, to read and interpret the Bible for ourselves, to be ministers to one another, and to make decisions at the congregational level. I claimed this historical way of being Baptist nineteen years ago, and I affiliated with Baptist networks who hold these fragile freedoms dear. Though I have worked outside the Baptist world at times, I have always been clear about who I am and where my home is.

Because of my winding journey through Baptistdom, I am both close to and distant from, unsurprised and grieved about recent revelations of various abuses perpetrated against women by past and current Southern Baptist Convention powerbrokers. Part of me says, “The SBC’s doubling-down on inequality was always heading toward this reckoning, and this has not been my fight for nearly two decades.”

But that’s not true.

Anytime a person created by God is emotionally or physically harmed, we are all accountable for calling out the violence.

Anytime a person uses God as an excuse to abuse, we all must rise up and proclaim our belief in a God who loves and wants good for us all and who privileges the downtrodden.

Anytime our sisters are treated as less than, we all must point out that there is no male or female in Christ Jesus.

So this is my fight. And yours, no matter what your relationship (or lack of) to the SBC. Because as members of God’s one family, our flourishing is tied to each other’s. And this flourishing is rooted in healthy practices and policies, right relationships and righteous resolutions.

There is no such thing as benevolent patriarchy. Wherever there is inequality, the table is set for one group to exercise – misuse – power over another. May we all claim the power of love and justice so that all people might know safety, access to resources, and paths for living into the fullness of their personhood.

Confidence is the deep knowing in our hearts, minds, and guts that we can trust our skills and intuition. It’s essential to leadership in good times (when confidence comes more effortlessly) and particularly during challenging seasons, when it would be easy to turn up the volume on those internal and external voices of doubt. One of the reasons confidence is so important is that it doesn’t just affect our perception of our ability to do a thing, it also impacts our actual performance. Think about it: a gifted, faithfully-practicing violinist with flagging self-assurance will not play at nearly the same level as a musician with the same skills and experience but much firmer belief in herself.

How, then, do we build up this faith in ourselves? In The Confidence Code: The Science and Art of Self-Assurance – What Women Should Know, journalists Katty Kay and Claire Shipman propose that one of the best ways to develop confidence is to fail – fast.

[Record scratch.]

Wait, what?

Yep, this advice seems counterintuitive on its face. The prospect of failing is often what makes us doubt ourselves in the first place. Wouldn’t more failure lead to more uncertainty? As it turns out, no. Failing fast means trying several small-stakes ventures, knowing not all of them will pan out. These efforts can get us past the perfectionism that holds so many of us back, allow us to experience mini failures so that we can know the world will not end, and give us opportunities to flex a lot of different muscles so that we learn more about our own capacity.

Confidence – the kind we can develop, since we can’t control the genetic piece – comes from action, not overthinking. What, then, are some initiatives or interests you’ve been wanting to try out but haven’t yet gotten up the gumption? What are some small, immediate actions you could take in the name of exploration?

Sure, you (and others!) might find out you’re not good at something. That’s ok. You’re still a beloved child of God, imbued with the combination of gifts that made God say, “you are good.” You’ll find out something about yourself. You’ll start building your way up to bigger failures, which will set the stage for bigger successes and more visible roles. And I’ll be cheering you on along the way, because I know that your insight and your leadership deserve a larger forum.

Ready, set, fail.

The Rev. Julie Jensen began in February as Associate Pastor at First Presbyterian Church in Fernandina Beach, Florida. I got to see Julie’s search for a new call through a few different windows, and it seemed clear that something special was unfolding when she began communicating with FPC. I asked her to share how FPC’s hospitality impacted her acceptance of the position and the start-up of her ministry in Florida.

When did you discern that FPC was a great fit for you?

Julie said that her inclination grew throughout her interactions with the search team. As someone who is experienced at reading congregational profiles and position descriptions, she could tell that the search team had taken care to show their heart and their story in these documents. When her initial Skype interview was rescheduled due to a hurricane threat in Florida, Julie noted that she had family in the path of the storm as well. When the Skype call took place, one of the search team’s first questions was about her family’s safety, and the team members noted that they had been praying for Julie’s loved ones. In the various rounds of interviews, the search team asked thoughtful questions that provoked candid conversation. For Julie’s on-site interview, the search team was flexible with her about timing, the scheduling of events during the visit, and her transportation and lodging options, all the while being clear about the ways they would cover her expenses. There was a basket of goodies in her hotel room, along with a handwritten note of welcome. Her one-on-one time with the Senior Pastor/Head of Staff was spent in conversation, prayer, and the building of a truly collegial relationship. As Julie sat in the airport after her on-site visit, she reflected on all her experiences with the search team to that point. Realizing that she would like to serve this church and these people even if they were far from a beautiful beach setting, she knew she had found a new home. Her discernment was confirmed when the congregation put her on speakerphone following their vote to extend a call, and the people in the pews burst into thunderous applause.

After the congregational vote, how did church folks begin welcoming you?

Julie began immediately receiving friend requests on social media, and her new church members were understanding about her decision not to accept them until her new position was public. The search team contacted her weekly to see how she was holding up during the impending transition. The church was generous with moving expenses and helped her secure housing. The staff cleared out the Associate Pastor office, and upon her arrival Julie was given a budget to decorate it as she liked. Two church members helped her with the project, which was a fun way to get to know them better. Julie's name was already on the permanent sign for her first day, and someone brought her flowers. The church threw her a “welcome wagon” at which church members were asked to bring their recommendations for local services and an item that represented what they loved about their community. Three months in, people are still taking Julie up on her offer to meet one-on-one or in small groups so that she can build relationships with her parishioners. She also notes that her Senior Pastor/Head of Staff cleared considerable time on his calendar during her first two weeks to help her enter well. One of the first things they did together was pray in the sanctuary for their ministry. He made himself available, as did the rest of the staff, to help ease the transition and answer questions Julie had. 

What difference has the hospitality of the search team and congregation made in your mindset and ability to do ministry?

Julie says she started her position wanting to work hard for these people who had already accepted her not just as one of their pastors, but also as a human being. Through the way she has been welcomed since the beginning of this search, Julie felt the desire on all sides to build good, healthy working relationships with members and staff.  These relationships have provided a foundation of people she can reach out to when she needs questions answered or systems explained. She still hears the thunderous applause in her head when she has a hard ministry day and knows that her church is still cheering for her, which allows her to focus on the tasks at hand. The warm welcome of the congregation, staff, and others in the community has allowed her to find her way in a new place with confidence.   

Hospitality doesn’t have to take a lot of time or money, just some attention to detail. But it makes all the difference in a church and a minister’s excitement for learning to love and live well together.

Nickels and noses are the two most common measurements of a congregation’s vitality. That’s because they are the easiest to track, not because they are the most useful metrics. Income as compared to expenses tells us whether we’ll be able to keep the lights on and make payroll each month, which is no small deal, but a simple spreadsheet of revenue and expenditures reveals little else. For example, how many giving units does our church have this year as compared to last year? Did repeat givers increase or decrease their contributions, and what are the pastoral care questions posed by these patterns? We don’t know. Similarly, average worship attendance is just that: a flat number with no nuance to it. How often are unique individuals coming? What patterns do we notice among newcomers? ASA doesn’t give us any of that.

There is another problem with the nickels and noses approach to metrics. What do those approaches to measurement say to our members? When we emphasize a strictly numbers-based view of budgeting, we tell givers that their relationship with the church is transactional. You come, you put some money in the plate, and we’ll give you a feel-good Jesus experience. There’s little theological reflection on how we’re using our finances or education around the spiritual impact of giving on the giver. When we make a big deal out of ASA, we imply that we don’t care who is coming, why, and how often – as long as there are butts in the pews. It’s no wonder that congregations and denominations who put a lot of stock in these metrics are hemorrhaging members and seeing a lot of transitions among pastors, who are told that their effectiveness depends on growing these “vitality” stats.

What, then, would it look like to develop measurements that are meaningful and useful? I suggest using the following factors to name metrics that truly assess vitality:

• The measurement must be, well, measurable. “Spiritual growth” is too vague to be quantifiable. The number of unique people who volunteer (as opposed to being voluntold) for leadership positions can be counted.

• The measurement must be within the church’s control. You have zero say in how many people actually come through your doors on Sunday morning. Your church members can control how many potential newcomers they personally invite.

• The measurement must give ownership to the members. Yes, the pastor needs to be accountable for her ministry. But the church is actually stewarded by the members, who were here before and will be here after the pastor leaves.

• The measurement must take impact into account. It does no good to track how many pairs of gently-used adult shoes your church donates to a local organization when said organization deals in providing formula and diapers to low-income families with newborns.

Metrics that measure the wrong things can send churches and pastors into shame spirals and anxiety about survival. Measurements that are meaningful for your setting can be a means of discernment and a way of encouraging your congregation and leadership, however. Take care to set your mileposts with intentionality.

Recently Truett Theological Seminary at Baylor University published its list of the twelve most effective preachers in the English-speaking world. This roster was compiled from a national survey that garnered 179 respondents and based on criteria suggested by homiletics professors.

There are a number of issues with the list, as perceptive people in my social media feeds have pointed out. Some of the preachers do not serve a local church. (Powerful preaching – as judged by the criteria for this list – is easier when study and writing don’t have to be worked around the demands of full-time congregational ministry and the need for a fresh sermon every week.) Diversity in every measure is severely lacking. One guy on the list has been dead for nine months. And that’s just for starters.

I’ve seen some conversations about coming up with alternative criteria for making a list that more fully plumbs the depth and breadth of sermonizing. I really like this open-ended list I like from Nevertheless, She Preached, which recognizes that competitive preaching is not a sport that aligns with the gospel. I’d also like to tell you whom I think is an effective preacher:

You.

Why?

Because I know you work hard on your preaching craft, studying scripture and honing your delivery.

Because I know you minister faithfully to and alongside the people in your care, allowing their questions and concerns to provide the scaffolding for your sermons.

Because I know you make yourself vulnerable through your proclamation while taking care not to bleed all over the chancel.

Because I know you love your church enough to comfort and gently challenge from the pulpit.

Because I know you pray for the Spirit to work through your presence and your words, bridging the distance between what you have prepared and what each hearer needs to grow in faith.

Because I know you take to heart every word of feedback about your sermons – maybe too much so – earnestly wanting to improve as a homiletician.

Because I know that God is using you to bring the reign of God ever closer.

I don’t need a list to know all these things. In fact, I don’t believe the most effective preachers will show up on any wide-swath list. They are too busy doing the work of ministry in their own contexts. They don’t have time or use for being celebrities whose names will be well-known enough to be included on a nationwide survey.

I see you, your efforts, and their fruits. More importantly, your congregation and community see you. Carry on, effective preacher.