As a kid learning to love basketball as Michael Jordan was emerging as an NBA superstar, I was curious about the Netflix docuseries covering his final season with the Chicago Bulls. I found several aspects of the series fascinating: Jordan’s exaggerated sense of competition, his rise as a cultural icon, his role in making individual endorsement deals as a team sport star commonplace. (By the way, did you know Nike was a small company specializing in track shoes until Jordan signed a deal with it straight out of UNC? I didn’t.)

But it was a quote from a journalist in the last episode that really grabbed me:

“Most people struggle to be present. People go and sit in ashrams in India for twenty years, trying to be present. Do yoga, meditate, trying to get here, now. Most people live in fear because we project the past into the future. Michael is a mystic. He was never anywhere else. His gift was not that he could jump high, run fast, shoot a basketball. His gift was that he was completely present, and that was the separator.”

— Mark Vancil, quoted in the Netflix series "The Last Dance," episode X.

Michael Jordan’s gift wasn’t his athleticism, it was his ability to be present.

That’s quite a statement. It’s also a ray of hope to me. I’ll never have great physical gifts. I’m a decent preacher, but no one will ever call me the GOAT. Sometimes I’m slow to respond in conversation. But being present? That’s something that I - that you - can conceivably do. That’s the real gift, and it’s available to us.

Sure enough, being present is especially tough right now when the demands are greater and our roles overlap in messy ways. That’s also why it’s even more important. If we can be where we are, if we can be with the people around us, if we can stay in the present without worrying about how our leadership will be received or obsessing about what our choices are doing to our loved ones, not only will this time be more bearable, it will also make us better pastors, parents, friends, and citizens.

What do you need in order to be deeply present? Keep it simple: a deep breath, a focusing verse of scripture or image, a ritual that helps you transition from one mode or task to the next.

I wonder what incredible, relational things we might be capable of if we leaned into this superpower.

Photo by Eilis Garvey on Unsplash.

October is Pastor Appreciation Month. It’s probably a holiday made up to sell more greeting cards, but I’m going with it. You really you deserve gratitude year-round, though. That’s every year, and even more so in the flaming heap that is 2020. Here is what I’ve seen from you in the midst of pandemic, a civil rights movement, a grueling election cycle, and more:

Responsiveness. Not safe to gather at church? You took church virtual. Protests flare up over the murders of our siblings of color? You put on a mask and marched or donated to grassroots organizations that promote equity or led anti-racism studies in your congregations. People’s basic rights are at stake? You spoke hard truths, even when some called you “too political.” Social safety nets are crumbling? You made space in your churches for virtual learners or picked up food distribution to those in need.

Resilience. Many of you are working harder and longer than you ever have - and you were by no means slackers before - even though this work is largely invisible unless it doesn’t get done. You’ve realized much as a result about your gifts, your call, and your limits.

Innovation. You created new systems for worship, spiritual formation, pastoral care, and connection among church members. You’ve gleaned what is possible and what will be essential in a world where Covid-19 is more controlled.

Flexibility. Let’s face it. There has been, of necessity, a lot of trial and error over the past several months. Great! You’ve tried things, learned, and adapted or let go of what wasn’t working. That’s a healthy model for our congregations, many of which are hesitant to end any ministry, no matter how past its prime.

Love for your people. You’ve called. You’ve written. You’ve made porch visits. You’ve dropped off goodies. You have grieved not being able to see your congregation in person and to give hugs, handshakes, and fist bumps. You have been devastated when you couldn’t be with members as they were dying.

I am in awe of you.

And I want things for you:

Permission not to do all the things. Maybe this permission needs to come from your lay leaders or head of staff. Maybe it needs to come from within. Even though you are doing amazing ministry, you are not what you do. You are a beloved child of God, called and equipped for ministry and deserving of time and energy to care for the image of God within.

A sustainable rhythm. The pace you’ve been working at was borne of crisis. We have since realized that the emergencies of the past several months were not short-term. Covid will be with us for a while. The journey to justice is long. The US presidential election is likely to stir the pot more than cool it off. If you had known in March what was coming, how would you have approached it? How might you work with your leaders to shift into that gear now?

Recognition from your congregation. Some churches realize they are so fortunate to have their pastors. Others are beating their clergy to a bloody pulp out of their misplaced anxiety. I pray literally every night that your congregation takes as much care of you as you do of them.

Glimmers of normal. Maybe it’s a Bible study that meets outside, socially-distanced. Maybe it’s having a few people in the sanctuary when you preach. Maybe it’s getting a Covid test so that you can visit family or friends with a clear conscience. Whatever glimpse you need of the way things used to be in ministry and in life, I hope you find it.

People beyond your church to love and be loved by. These people might be sheltering at home with you. They might live far away, reachable now only by card, phone, or video call. Whatever the case, remember that there is life and care beyond the bounds of your work and that there are spaces where you can simply be a human, not a SuperPastor.

God, thank you for these pastors. Give them courage, creativity, support, and rest. We need them now more than ever. Amen.

[If this post resonated, you might want to check out Dear Pastors.]

It was not always a given that I’d become a mom. After eight years of marriage, my spouse and I still shrugged at each other every time one of us brought up the topic of parenthood. That is, until God dropped a vision-bomb of me setting down a toddler, who then ran so gleefully to a man - my husband - that the parent-child connection was obvious.

It was almost two years until that child I’d seen in my mind was born. As an interim minister, I was between calls, but I knew I’d want to work again soon. The kind of position I was looking for was different than pre-baby, though. I wanted to go part-time while Levi was so young, and I needed a congregational context that would welcome his presence rather than resent it. (In fact, I turned down one job offer when it seemed the senior pastor didn’t really want my kid around.) I hit the jackpot, accepting the call to be minister to youth at a church I had previously served as interim associate minister. The search team chair bent over backwards to make the situation work for Levi and me. She found us a spot at the church’s early childhood ministry for the days that I worked. She arranged for childcare on Sunday evenings when I would be leading youth group. The senior minister and my immediate supervisor, the associate minister who followed my interim, were also generous with their support.

I loved that I could utilize my gifts as minister while my baby was across the hall from my office, being cared for by people who adored him. I loved that his teachers could ask me questions or grab me about concerns at any time. I loved that when he refused to take a nap in room full of active babies (the FOMO has always been strong with this one), I could lay him down in my office, turn off the lights, and work by computer monitor light while he slept. Sunday mornings, though, were my favorite. Since I served a Disciples of Christ congregation, there was communion every week. As youth minister I rarely presided at the table, so I slipped out the back of the sanctuary, picked Levi up from the nursery, and joined the end of the communion line. At first I carried him facing out in a wrap, his smile and others’ big as we walked down the aisle. As he began to walk, he teeter-tottered forward, and people on the end of the pews clutched their chests in joy. In front of the communion table, he regularly heard that the bread and juice meant that Jesus loved him.

It was a gift for both of us to spend two years in an environment that supported my ministry and nurtured my budding parental identity and my son’s faith development. It reinforced for me that I was called both to ministry and motherhood, and that in the right context, I could do both imperfectly but well. I believe - hope - that our presence also reassured the congregation of the same to the benefit of other clergywomen who might serve there.

Above all, though, I gained insight into who God is as holy parent. God does not compartmentalize when it comes to Jesus - God is Creator/Sustainer/Redeemer of all humankind as well as Jesus’ own parent at all times, even when the overlap gets messy. God wishes to affirm all the parts of us as well. That is part of what it means to be made whole.

As I transitioned from ministry in the congregation to the ministry of clergy coaching, making space for my two calls has been the priority. As Levi got older and started school, I started to divide up my life into work and family tracks. During the pandemic, those lines have slowly been erased. I’ll admit - it was rough at first. It’s still hard sometimes. But once we found our groove, I remembered how wonderful it was to be able to snuggle my baby (now 7 years old) anytime during the day while still living fully into my pastoral call. Thanks be to God for the chance to pastor and parent.

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This post is part of the book launch blog tour for Embodied: Clergy Women and the Solidarity of a Mothering God. Embodied includes reflection questions at the end of each chapter, to instigate conversations that lead to support and new perspectives. The book is available this September from Bookshop.org, Amazon, or Cokesbury.  Check out all the stops on the blog tour, and buy the book!

There are many ways I could describe the past six months, but I’m going with “revealing.” The pandemic has clarified systemic issues related to a broken healthcare system, racial inequities, lack of leadership at almost every level (governmental and denominational), and inefficient infrastructure for responding to crises. Specifically, though, I am thinking about how all the shifts prompted by Covid-19 have uncovered how unsustainable ministry is for so many pastors in their current contexts.

Prior to the pandemic, a significant number of my clergy coachees and colleagues were working under unrealistic expectations, whether those came from their congregations or from their own internal “shoulds.” And then, mid-Lent, they had to change the ways they did nearly everything - and fast. They became not just preachers but tech experts with all that entails: recording, editing, sound mixing, lighting, inviting people to and teaching them how to participate in and managing online meetings, exploring the most accessible social media platforms, and monitoring cyber security. They spent many hours trying to get all of this right because worship and Bible study and fellowship are so critical, not knowing that they’d have to continue all that they started beyond a few weeks, often without much help from others. (Because, again, the shutdown was supposed to be temporary, so why ask for assistance from others dealing with their own altered realties?)

Now not only do many ministers’ jobs look very different than what they were before mid-March, but they may no longer align with these leaders’ senses of giftedness and call. They are doing work they did not sign up for, or at least work they didn’t particularly love has increased while the aspects that energized them have all but evaporated. And there is no end in sight to these changes, both because Covid-19 continues to spread and because pastors know that they’ll have to keep up at least some of their new tasks once churches re-gather to accommodate constituents who’ve found virtual connection works better for them.

In addition, ministers lost their best means of not just keeping tabs on how their church members were doing but also getting any kind of encouraging feedback, namely seeing faces in the pews during worship and interacting informally with folks on Sunday mornings. This loss made communication, pastoral care, and decision-making infinitely harder. Everything started to take more time, more intentionality, more energy. This, while many clergy have also been caring for and schooling children whose schools and daycares closed and whose other caregivers have had to isolate to protect their own health.

In return for all the extra effort, many pastors have received mostly anxiety and negativity in return. Part of this is because everyone is struggling, and church is an easy place for people to project discontent. (What’s your pastor going to do if you get mad? She can’t fire you, refuse to work with you, or give you a bad grade.) Part of this is the polarization in our culture, which has morphed public health measures like closing buildings and wearing masks into political landmines during a presidential election cycle. And part is simply that church members simply don’t know all that their leaders are doing since everyone is isolated in their homes.

The effects of all these difficulties are taking their toll. They have deepened pre-existing fault lines and created new ones such that clergy who already had some sense of discontent now have one foot out the door, and some who were very happy are seriously questioning whether their current context is still a good fit. The result, I predict, is going to be a tidal wave of pastoral departures once churches re-gather, and maybe sooner depending on how long the pandemic rages on. Clergy who have been hurt by accusing questions like, “What are you doing all day?” or “Why can’t we meet?” or “Why didn’t you do X (or call Y)?” “Are you really going to make me wear a mask?” are going to have trouble forgetting and will look for fresh starts elsewhere. Some lead clergy who have caught a lot of heat might want to step into positions, such as associate roles, where they aren’t the point person. Others are just going to feel chewed up and spat out and choose to leave the ministry altogether.

Church folks, this time is hard for everyone. It’s hard for you, certainly. And it’s hard for your pastor. If you want to keep your pastor after Covid-19 becomes more manageable, here are some suggestions to help ease your minister’s stress during the pandemic:

• Check on your pastor. Many clergy don’t have anyone outside of their family to ask how they are and to listen to the answer.

• If you have the bandwidth, ask how you can help. As mentioned above, ministers took an unsustainable amount of work on themselves early in the pandemic because it was easier in the short term, they didn’t want to bother others who were struggling, and they didn’t know they’d be doing all the extra tasks six months later.

• Speak well about your pastor to others. If other church members talk disparagingly about what they think the minister is or isn’t doing, reply with your belief that she is working hard and, like all of us, doing the best she can.

• If someone mentions a specific pastoral care need to you, urge that person to contact the pastor. She wants to know so that she can respond!

• Engage bigger questions with fellow church members. What are we learning about our church or our community during this time? What do we need to keep or stop doing as a result? If you can think beyond the moment and help others do so, your pastor will be so grateful.

• Send your minister an encouraging card, text, or email. Name specific things you see her doing that you appreciate. This noticing goes a long way in helping a pastor feel valued.

It’s normal for clergy to depart in the wake of an acute event like a disaster. It isn’t inevitable, though. People in the (virtual) pews can attempt to stem the tidal wave simply by being supportive and encouraging others to do so. Even if your pastor eventually leaves, she will treasure the affirmation, and your church will have established patterns for loving your next leader well.

Photo by Max McKinnon on Unsplash.

During this strange season we have witnessed leadership that has helped us feel more ready to face challenges. I have been admiring this kind of leadership in and from you! (We have also felt rage and despair at leadership that passes the buck or exists only for the benefit of those in charge.) Here, in my observation, is what makes someone a true leader:

Great leaders listen. Leadership begins with tuning in - to the voices of others, to data, to the movements of the Spirit, to one’s own deep knowing and misgivings.

Great leaders ask. There are times for certainty, but they are much fewer than we tend to think. Curiosity will usually get us further.

Great leaders encourage. Some people think that threats and shame make those around us work harder. That’s a recipe for sabotage and high turnover, not to mention an approach antithetical to the gospel.

Great leaders equip others. No leader has all the insight and skills needed to promote progress or to clear hurdles. Plus, isn’t it simply fun to see the people around us understand and use their gifts?

Great leaders take appropriate responsibility. They accept credit for what went well while sharing praise with others who contributed. They refrain from shifting blame to others just to make themselves look better.

Great leaders communicate. They get the word out in as many ways as possible, as often as possible, often to the point of feeling like they are grossly overcommunicating. (Rarely, if ever, is overcommunication a thing.)

Great leaders adapt. In a time of accelerating change, leaders must be nimble. They know that pivots aren’t signs of failure but markers of forward thinking and responsiveness.

Great leaders strive to grow. Lifelong learning is the posture of a great leader.

Great leaders care. They care about both the people whose faces they see on a regular basis and those they don’t but whose lives are impacted by their actions.

Great leaders rest. They know the world will keep spinning if they take a nap, and that they will be better able to do all of the above if they tend to their physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health.

Where do you see yourself reflected in these markers of a great leader?

Photo by KOBU Agency on Unsplash.

A few weeks ago I shared my takeaways from Part-Time Is Plenty: Thriving Without Full-Time Clergy, which assures its readers that having a part-time pastoral leader can be a nudge toward greater vitality. I experienced a bit of whiplash when I followed up that read with The Last Pastor: Faithfully Steering a Closing Church. In it retired Episcopal priest Gail Cafferata shares her own experiences along with those of other mainline ministers upon realizing their congregations no longer had the resources to sustain themselves. Some of these clergy knew upon entering these contexts that their primary task was to bring the church to a good end. Most did not, making their journey toward closing more personally difficult.

This is a useful read for any pastor whose church is teetering on the edge of viability. But I think the audience that most needs to internalize the lessons in this book is judicatory leaders. The ministers Cafferata interviewed note time and again how the work of closing the church was made much easier or more difficult based on the posture of the judicatory and the information the judicatory was willing to share. On the negative side of the equation, some judicatory leaders take a “not on my watch” approach that denies churches’ situations until they are too dire or conflicted to end well. (This often results in installing first-call pastors whose enthusiasm for ministry quickly fades with the hard road toward closing and women who find themselves toeing the edge of the glass cliff.) Others pull the rug out, closing churches with little to no input from the pastor or parishioners. A few mock or blame the clergy who are faithfully attempting to lead their congregations through a grief process. All of this abandonment can prompt ministers to question their effectiveness and possibly their call to vocational ministry.

The ministers referenced in the book make it clear that pastors need honesty, partnership, spiritual support from the people charged with the care of districts or regions of churches and their leaders. Clergy also benefit from focused help and positive references from their judicatory leader as they search for their next call, because pastor search teams are sometimes unable to look beyond the fact that the candidate’s last church closed. When congregations and their clergy feel respected and seen, closing is much more likely to be more meaningful for all involved and result in those church members seeking out new faith homes.

Ministers in smaller churches, read this book. More importantly, get it in the hands of those with influence in your judicatory.

We live in a time with many questions and few answers. Wouldn’t it be great to get just a few?

In a webinar I recently attended, presenter Hal Gregersen suggested the way to obtain those answers was to - wait for it - ask more questions. In an exercise he calls “question burst,” he sets a timer for 2 to 5 minutes and invites individuals and teams to name as many queries about their current challenge as possible. Don’t filter, just jot down a question and move on to the next. When time is up, those participating are encouraged to look at their lists of questions. Often a deeper concern to be addressed or a first step forward emerges.

This exercise makes a lot of sense to me. Too often we stop at obvious or surface questions, moving quickly to trying to solve the problem. But because the questions don’t get at the root, the responses don’t actually fix anything. If we just keep asking, though, we’ll start to get somewhere.

Next time you’re facing a challenge or planning a new initiative, take a few minutes to engage in the question burst exercise. You might be surprised by how much more and meaningful progress you’ll make.

Stay curious, my friends.

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash.

As I imagine is true for most coaches, the bulk of my new clients come from current coachees’ outreach to colleagues who might benefit or casual word-of-mouth recommendations. I am very grateful for these referrals! I want to make it easier for people to tell others about the value of coaching and reward their efforts in doing so.

To that end, I have made this referral sheet available in PDF format, and you can click on the image below to save it as a PNG file. It names the people and groups I work with, details my vision for and approach to coaching, differentiates coaching from counseling and spiritual direction (two disciplines that are distinct from but dovetail nicely with coaching), and provides information on how to get started. Page two, should you choose to keep reading, provides some testimonials.

When potential clients sign up for a free discovery call, I ask where they found out about my coaching services. If they name you specifically, you get two free one-hour coaching sessions. If you’re a current coachee, those two sessions get added to the end of your package. If we’re not coaching together right now - and even if we never have! - you get two sessions to use at your convenience. That’s a $200-300 value, because referrals are that important.

Thank you to all who have recommended my coaching in the past, and thanks in advance to those who will. It is a privilege to serve the church and its leaders in this way.

Recently a few different people recommended to me - for different reasons, interestingly - The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. In it Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, one of the world’s leading experts on trauma, explains what happens to us when we are traumatized. We are unable to give complete voice to the experience and integrate it into our self-understanding. It keeps us trapped in vigilance, believing that danger lurks just on the edge of our periphery and prompting out-sized responses to triggers. Over time the trauma rewires our brains and sinks deeply into our bodies, manifesting in a number of conditions that are often diagnosed and treated as separate mental or physical health issues. On a social level, it prevents us from trusting others and deepening relationships. Despite all of this resulting unpleasantness, someone trapped in trauma continually revisits that time when everything changed. It becomes borderline impossible to live in the present, much less envision a different future than the current trajectory.

I am not a doctor or a mental health professional. I also do not want to minimize in any way the experiences of abuse survivors, veterans, and others who live with post-traumatic stress. As someone who works with ministers and congregations, though, I kept thinking this sounds so much like some of our churches as I was reading. We don’t know how to name what our issues are and work through them to integrate them into a coherent narrative. The problems we do see are more symptomatic than root. Conflict simmers just beneath the surface until an incident - often a seemingly benign one - ignites it. Trust is hard to come by. We live in the glory days of how church used to be. We are unable to imagine a different future.

In some cases congregations might be recovering from trauma, such as a serious breach of ethics by the pastor or the sudden death of a key leader or a natural disaster such as a fire or flood that significantly damages the church. In other cases shame might be what we’re seeing the effects of: we once had an ASA of 1,000 and now it’s 100. We haven’t had a new member in years. Church members have left over controversies. We don’t feel relevant.

Whether congregations are experiencing trauma or shame, I believe Dr. van der Kolk offers helpful ways forward:

Address the issue from a place of safety (as much as safety can be guaranteed). People need to know that they are not just seen and heard but also valued, no matter what their experiences. A leader’s first task, then, is to build this kind of culture. This is long, ongoing, and necessary work.

Help people put words to their experiences. A problem that can’t be named can’t be dealt with, but most people can’t be invited into this acknowledgment until they feel safer.

Encourage people to feel what they feel and to be in their bodies. This is not a license to harm others emotionally or physically. It is a mining for the data those feelings and sensations offer.

Together craft a narrative that distinguishes between past, present, and future. There is always more than one true narrative. Which one is most helpful? Which one allows us to move forward with hope and in relationship? In choosing this narrative, individuals and congregations reclaim a sense of agency that they had lost, making it possible to get unstuck.

All of this is easier said than done, of course. But these bigger picture tasks mirror scripture: there is a life-altering chasm between us and God, between us and others. The Bible is about finding away to bridge those divides by examining what isolates us, including what causes alienation within our own selves, so that we can move forward in coherence and connection.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash.

Guess what? It’s my ordiversary! Eighteen years ago today I was ordained to the Christian ministry by the saints at Oakhurst Baptist Church in Decatur, Georgia. In many ways that occasion feels like a lifetime ago. Since then my vocational journey has taken me through a range of roles, congregations, and even denominations. I am grateful for all of the experiences - even the ones you couldn’t pay me to repeat - that have brought me to the ways in which I now serve as a coach to clergy and congregations. In my coaching I use everything I’ve learned and all the strengths I’ve uncovered and honed.

And so I am choosing to celebrate my ordiversary by releasing my first-ever ebook, which is a guide for churches and leaders on how to dream, discern, and plan out of all that they have to be grateful for. Planning in the Small Church: Focusing on Gifts to Fulfill God’s Call is a quick, practical, and inexpensive (at $2.99) read that draws out all of the individual and collective, tangible and intangible gifts of a congregation and community in order to notice where God is at work and how God might be extending new invitations. The ebook starts with the formation of a team to help the church tell stories and gather data and goes all the way through the first steps in implementing new initiatives. Each step is grounded in worship and best practices.

Planning in the Small Church was written with congregations that have one clergyperson - whether that person is the sole staff member or supervises some part-time employees - in mind. That’s because I believe spiritually rich, deeply creative ministry is possible in those contexts, but there’s no budget (and often no need) for a consultant to come in and lead a visioning process. It’s also because smaller congregations can have a hard time refocusing from what they don’t have to all that they do, largely due to our misguided cultural and denominational defaults that bigger, that more, is better.

I am grateful for my calling. I am thankful for the call extended to you and your congregation as well. I hope Planning in the Small Church will help you celebrate your gifts, train you to notice God glimmers, and enable you to live out of abundance, hope, and joy.

According to a 2018-2019 National Congregations Study, 43% of mainline congregations in the United States do no have a full-time (paid) clergyperson.

43 %.

That’s almost half, and the number is rapidly increasing.

The default perspective is to see a church’s lack of a full-time pastor as a step toward closure. But in the newly-published Part-Time Is Plenty: Thriving Without Full-Time Clergy, UCC minister G. Jeffrey MacDonald makes the case for revitalizing a congregation by distributing the traditional workload of a full-time pastor among part-time clergy and laypeople. Drawing on his own experience as a part-time minister and on research he conducted among various mainline denominations, MacDonald asserts that intentionally claiming this distributed model does not just save a church money. It also allows the pastor to explore other facets of vocation and the laity to reclaim the fullness of the priesthood of all believers, all the while tapping back into a leadership approach that was the norm pre-Industrial Revolution.

For the move to a part-time, paid pastorate to take deep root, MacDonald says that a church must have the courage and creativity to choose it before finances necessitate it. The congregation must develop clear expectations of both staff and members. Laypeople must have access to practical, low-cost training to draw out and build upon their gifts, and pastors must understand how to unleash the strengths of these laypeople. MacDonald calls upon denominational leaders to shift their mindsets from “part-time as a prelude to death” - which is rooted in fear and scarcity - to “part-time as an opportunity for innovation and vitality.” He also urges seminaries to re-think how they offer education, to whom, and at what price tag in order to support a distributed pastorate.

MacDonald’s premise might cause heartburn those of us who trained and planned for a full-time career in ministry - and have the debt to show for it. But for pastors who are looking for a steady (if not lucrative) income that frees them up to parent, create, work in another field, or keep a hand in ministry without burning out or feeling the burden of others’ unrealistic expectations, part-time as plenty might be very good news.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Photos by Lanty on Unsplash.

Two weeks ago I offered a couple of webinars for search teams addressing the challenges of looking for a pastor during a pandemic. The responses were very positive. I received questions from several searching clergy, though, asking whether the content would be helpful for them as well. I welcomed them to participate - and then I began mulling whether a separate resource might be more useful.

As a result I have just released a 43-minute webinar providing searching pastors with pandemic-related questions that search teams are asking, questions for candidates to ask search teams, questions for candidates to ask themselves, new opportunities for telling one's story to search teams, new challenges for searching, and things to consider when starting a call during a new normal.

Access to the webinar is $10 and can be purchased here. (Note that I have also created a recording of the version for search teams, and it can be found here.)

I hope that these resources about the particular considerations the pandemic has prompted will be useful to you. I am available for coaching around these challenges as well, and you can schedule a free exploratory call here.

I was talking today with a pastor whose church is facing a time-sensitive congregational vote around a big issue. She had thought through the most obvious options - voting virtually or by mail - but neither seemed like a fit for either her people or the subject of the vote. Working with her judicatory leader and church council, then, she developed a way for her members to vote in person. Here is what she came up with:

• Dividing the church directory into much smaller segments (10-12 voting members)

• Assigning each segment a day and a two-hour window to come to the (heavily-sanitized before and after) church to cast their ballots

• Asking people to wear masks and having extras available for those who don’t have access or who forget

• Marking socially-distanced spots on the floor in case multiple people arrive at the same time to vote (and offering reminders as needed to avoid physical contact)

• Having voters pick up their own ballots and deposit completed ones directly into a box

• Making mail-in ballots available on request, with a postmark deadline

Note that it is essential in situations like these to consult your by-laws about voting parameters, to run your plans by your judicatory leader to test for validity and proper safety precautions, and to consider all the risks involved and mitigations required. But an in-person vote might be an option - in smaller congregations, at least - for calling a pastor, deciding whether to sell property, or other big congregational issues.

Photo by Element5 Digital on Unsplash.

If you’ve been visiting laurastephensreed.com for a long time, welcome back. If you’re new to this site, I’m glad you’re here. I have relaunched my online presence in an effort to serve all the constituencies I serve - clergy, congregations, and pastor search teams - more effectively.

Here’s what you need to know about this new and improved website:

It is easier than ever to get to my scheduler. There are buttons in the footer (and in the main content of many pages) for current and potential coachees.

I update the blog weekly. You can stay current by subscribing to the blog or by following me on Facebook or Twitter.

You can search blog content by constituency. I have categorized all posts as applicable to clergy, congregations, and/or pastor search teams.

My newsletter is designed to be a handy resource for you. I send a monthly edition with links and tools. If you didn’t respond to the pop-up invitation extended when you first arrived at laurastephensreed.com, you can sign up for the newsletter here. (If you signed up on the old website, don’t worry, I’ve still got you on my list.)

As you poke around, I welcome your feedback. Where have I missed a link? What is hard to find? What do you need that isn't there? My goal with this new online presence is to serve you as best I can.

Photo by Belinda Fewings on Unsplash.

Maybe your pastor search was just getting up and running.

Maybe you were able to complete initial interviews by technology, but now you’re stuck at the phase when you’d normally invite one or more candidates for an in-person conversation.

Maybe your search team was about to introduce a candidate of choice for the congregation to meet and vote on.

And then…Covid-19. Everything shut down, and for who knows how long.

If your church (or a church in your care) is wondering whether to proceed with its pastor search - and what to do no matter the answer - this webinar at 7:00 pm eastern on April 20 and 23 can help. In this one-hour offering, participants will be introduced to the factors to consider and ways to move ahead with searches if they so choose. There will also be space for participants to ask questions particular to their contexts.

This webinar will be offered by Laura Stephens-Reed, creator of Searching for the Called, a pastor search process geared toward hospitality to voices in the congregation and community, the candidates' gifts and experiences, and the Holy Spirit. Laura is a minister and a clergy and congregational coach who has worked with pastors and churches across the ecumenical spectrum.

The cost for this webinar will be $15 per participant or $50 for 3+ search team members. Each participant will receive the 1-page document "Searching During a Strange Season: Questions to Reflect on When Searching During a Pandemic." Registration is available here.

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

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

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

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

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

I have the joy of leading two cohorts of clergy either serving in interim ministry or contemplating making that plunge. At one of our online gatherings last week, the participants were considering the questions of what makes interim ministry distinct from settled ministry and why we find transitional work so engaging. One cohort member shared that he considers churches in pastoral transitions vulnerable in ways that congregations with installed clergy are not. He considers it a privilege to minister to churches experiencing that vulnerability, helping them feel their way to hope.

That word - “vulnerable” - put a descriptor to the privilege of being with churches in their liminal spaces. I’ve had three units of Clinical Pastoral Education, which is intensive training for pastoral care. I can make an adequate visit to a homebound church member. I can show up in a hospital room and pray. But care for an entire congregation moving through the grief and anxiety of losing a pastor is where I do some of my best work. I am moved by hearing churches talk about what their former minister meant to them, which almost always covers the full range of emotions. I get excited about crafting worship experiences and conversations that help church members re-connect with God now that the person who was often their conduit has departed. I love helping congregations, especially small or shrinking ones, acknowledge that they are loved and gifted by God. And I revel in accompanying churches as they discern their way into the next season of ministry.

If your congregation has had a long-tenured, beloved, AND/OR controversial pastor, please allow an interim minister to journey with you when that person leaves. You deserve to be cared for, and your well-being will only benefit the pastor search process, the clergyperson who is eventually called to your setting, and the mission you offer in service to God out of healing rather than hurt.

Discernment is reallllly hard.

Discernment is also reallllly important.

Here is a link to the audio of a sermon I preached two Sundays ago about the why and the how of discernment. I was in the pulpit at First Baptist Church in Memphis, Tennessee, which is between settled pastors. In my role as the FBC’s transition facilitator, I was speaking directly to the challenge and the gift of discerning along the way to calling a new minister. The sermon also applies anytime we as clergy or congregations feel the internal or external pressure just to get on with it.

There is more than one way to assess the dynamics at play in conflict. We have the intrapersonal elements: what is going on within each person? Internal struggles are sometimes good fodder for conversation with a therapist or counselor, a professional who helps individuals understand how their current reactions are shaped by past experiences. Once that awareness emerges, healing becomes possible.

In conflict there are also the interpersonal aspects: what is happening among people? I don’t know of an approach that offers more insight into relationships than family systems theory, which explains how different emotional units interact in healthy and unhealthy ways.

To be certain, the intra- and interpersonal overlap when conflict threatens to boil over, and a basic grasp of both is essential to pastoral care at multiple layers. But I think an additional filter is helpful when we’re dealing with issues at the congregational level. Otherwise we can quickly get into the weeds, analyzing who is where in the system or what each person’s triggers are, so that it’s hard to zoom back out to the big picture. Meetings grind to a halt and initiatives die because we’re so focused on managing problems at the micro level.

In my mind, then, congregations live on an x-y axis. Individuals are points on the plane. Family systems theory orients us along the horizontal axis, helping us see how one person relates to the next. The vertical axis can in turn offer us a deeper though perhaps simpler way in to focusing what’s going on by taking us from symptoms at the surface to underlying issues.

At the outset we deal with logic. What are the arguments the involved parties are making? What are the counterpoints? If conflict is not resolved through reason, through adding up pros and cons and taking the most apparently advantageous path, then something else is going on.

The next level down to probe, then, is emotion. Who is feeling what and why? How might those feelings need tending? Whose heart or relationship needs mending?

If conflict remains after working with logic and feelings, then there is a struggle for power, whether or not it’s acknowledged as such. Who has control in certain situations? How did they get it, and how do they maintain it? What would it look like to give some of it up, and who would benefit? What would it take to convince the powerholders to cede some of their stake?

This approach, adapted from Sarah Drummond’s book Dynamic Discernment, provides a more streamlined on-the-spot assessment and offers a way to think about what it would take truly to get conversations and plans moving in a helpful direction. So the next time you’re blindsided in a conversation or banging your head on the conference table during a stalled-out meeting, travel the vertical axis of reason-emotion-power, taking care as you have breadth to tend to the pastoral care needs of individuals and emotional units.