Author Archives: jledmiston

. . . especially if you are seeking a new job and most especially if you are seeking a job in professional ministry.  (Yes, I know it’s more than “a job” but hear me out.)

Although this is not a new book, like the Lencioni books it’s interesting in terms of figuring out how we work together best.

Interesting:

“In every culture we have studied, the overwhelming majority of parents (77% in the US) think that a student’s lowest grades deserve the most time and attention.)”

Yep.

I grew up wanting to be one of the Supremes.  Big problem:  Singing is not my talent.  I could have taken voice lessons.  Practiced my moves.  Trained and trained for years.  But still singing would not be my talent.

So here’s the jarring note from Tom Rath which seems almost anti-American:  “You cannot be anything you want to be – but you can be a lot more of who you already are.” 

This is the task of the Commission on Preparation for Ministry or any organization charged with developing people for professional ministry:  helping people discern their strengths rather than “work on” their deficiencies.  Check out yesterday’s post. Maybe their strengths are pointing in a different direction.

If you want to be a doctor, there are several concrete steps one must take: med school, boards, etc.

If you want to be a lawyer, there are different steps: LSAT, law school, etc.

If you want to be a professional pastor, there are completely different steps and those steps vary by denomination or tradition.  But here’s the thing:  any individual can check off . . .

• required college and seminary degrees
• required field education
• required psych tests
• required ordination exams
• required random hoops

but still not be called to professional ministry.  We used to call professional ministry The Ministry of the Word and Sacrament in my denomination.  Now it’s called Ministry as a Teaching Elder. 

[Personal pet peeve:  when people refer to “ministers” and they mean the ones who graduated from seminary and were ordained as Teaching Elders.  Please stop doing this.]

If we really truly believe in “The Priesthood of all Believers” and that line on the back of the worship bulletins that says, “Ministers – The Congregation” please don’t refer to your pastor as “the minister” anymore.  It ruins it for all the other ministers in the world who feed strangers, knit prayer shawls, serve up lasagna casseroles in shelters, love stray animals, teach little children, rock crying babies, paint run-down living rooms, repair broken fences,  and every other countless act of compassion that scripture includes in “ministry.”  Really.  Please stop calling your pastor the minister.

Everybody’s called to ministry.  But not everybody’s called to professional ministry including The Ministry of Word and Sacrament.

In our give-everybody-a-trophy culture, we’ve become excellent at encouraging each other, but we are not so accomplished at telling people what their gifts are not.  How do we explain to someone who truly believes he is called to professional ministry that we do not see him as a professional minister – but we see his gifts and affirm that he’s called to a different kind of ministry?  How do we explain how one candidate is so clearly called and everyone sees it, while the community just doesn’t see it as clearly in another candidate?

It is a mystery  – this call to serve.

When a commission  – or a bishop – charged with discerning a candidate’s call says, “no” it feels soul-crushing like an absolute rejection of our very selves.    But this is not about rejection for all ministry.  It’s about being true to God’s calling for a specific ministry. 

A call – any call – from God never involves a sense of entitlement, personal  aggrandizement, or parroting responses we think people expect to hear from us.  It’s about a real, God-whispering-in-your-ear, humbling, irresistable, ineffable, shocking, unexpected summons to do what is messy and upheaving.

How do we help those who want to serve in a certain way, but what they see as their calling is not actually their calling according to the faithful team of people who reflect theologically with them in conversation, work, and wonder?  I believe that we who have the responsibility to help with this discernment need to be authentic and speak the truth.  Be loving.  Be compassionate.  Say yes to ministry but not to every ministry.

Ruins of the Church of Mary in Ephesus

I’m thinking of needlepointing this on a pillow:  “All the Churches Paul Started Have Closed.” 

This comment was made by someone at an event I attended on Saturday and it was exceptionally appropriate considering what I did on Sunday: I worshipped with a PCUSA congregation on their penultimate Sunday.  After almost 50 years of faithful ministry, they will close on October 2nd. 

What I experienced with this soon-to-be-closing church was this:  about 40 people in worship, lively (pre-recorded) music, colorful banners on the wall, about 5 children including a newborn, ethnic diversity, and faithful preaching.  It was clear that they really love each other.  But it wasn’t enough.

According to one charter member there were too few who took discipleship seriously and too many who saw church as an organization primarily created to take care of them.  When they heard talk about serving the world in the name of Jesus, it wasn’t what they signed up for.   This is a very simplistic explanation to a much more complicated situation, but the systemic issues boil down to discipleship and an understanding of what church is supposed to be imho.  All of us are at fault for missing the point.

The 21st Century Church is about signing up for servanthood, hospitality, obedience to God.  And even when we try to live into these things, still there are seasons.  Even the churches Paul started eventually closed only to have new communities rise up.

Really.  Anybody have ideas on this?

And Jesus said to them, ‘Follow me and I will make you fish for people.’ And immediately they left their nets and followed him.  Mark 1:17-18

How do we – who serve churches –  shift congregational paradigms that no longer work without losing our jobs – or worse – our minds?

And what support is there for pastors and other church leaders trying to make these changes?

We in the institutional church have response teams to support congregations hurt by financial or sexual misconduct.  We have disciplinary procedures to help congregations dealing with toxic interpersonal relationships.  But there doesn’t seem to be much support for churches with this particular problem:

– There are members who are happy with the status quo.  The same music they’ve always sung.  The same programs, sermons, furniture arrangements, faces.  They have their favorite events and traditions.  But things are different now. Long time parishioners refer to a time when there were hundreds on the membership rolls and now there are less than 100.  Maybe less than 50.  Bt they refuse to consider changes to The Way Things Are.

– There are members who are restless.  They imagine a different kind of church.  A church that cares about the people who aren’t there as much as they care for those who are.  A commitment that goes beyond Sunday morning.  A church that is less about membership and more about discipleship.

What do we do to support those churches?  There’s been no misconduct – unless it’s the misconduct of demonizing those who disagree with us.  There’s been no clear break in relationships, but something’s brewing.  Ugliness lies in wait. 

How do help churches that need to make a shift even though some in the congregation either don’t see the need for a shift or fear the loss of familiar spiritual traditions?  It’s an old question but I haven’t discovered many answers.  How do we love congregations in such a way that they make healthy, faithful choices in light of a changing church.  Are we satisfied to:

1) Lose a chunk of the congregation who feel like their old church has been taken from them?

OR

2) Lose a chunk of the congregation who feel that the status quo is slowing killing the church they love?

Anybody seen this done well?

Image is Happy Jesus by Fan Pu (2007)

“I believe that both humans and institutions are sinful.”  (from a candidate for ordination’s statement of faith shared recently in Chicago)

“Americans don’t look to institutions to solve their problems” (Newsweek p.38 9-19-11)

Yes and yes.

This is not to say that all institutions are ignoble or unhelpful.  But as a person who has served The Institutional Church professionally for over 25 years, I’ve seen my share of sinfulness and snafus.  And you have too.

– When fulfilling God’s call is blocked by internal spats that have nothing to do with the one seeking to serve.

– When fear rules over faith and it  shows up in decision-making and procedures.

– When we trust policies more than people.

These kinds of things ruin the church and make many stay away at first whiff.  We are a community of people.  Institutions are people.  We are sinful and get caught up in our own stuff.  But – after lots of searching, believe me – I see that the best way to nourish people and get things done is with an organized community.  And this is what my new job is all about.  Really cool.

Image is the public Picasso in Chicago.  Institutions can provide gorgeous art.

I went to the grocery store after work Monday night and it was a mob scene.  Something was clearly happening in the parking lot.  It looked like a radio station was broadcasting live from our neighborhood grocer and some people had even brought those folding chairs I used to take to soccer games.  Apparently there would be Fabulous Prizes.

I went inside to purchase my Greek yogurt and paper towels.  No time to wait around for Fabulous Prizes.

After covering my grocery list, I was returning to the car when the DJ said, “And the winner is:  Patsy Pace” or something like that and Patsy Pace was waiting there in the parking lot and she was Thrilled because she’d won 2 tickets to a Toby Keith concert.  And then the DJ said on the loudspeaker, “Who’s excited about the season premiere of Dancing with the Stars tonight?!  And whose going to be home watching the new Two and a Half Men tonight?!  And- don’t lie to me now – who’s going to be home with a six pack watching that new Playboy bunny TV show?!”  And people cheered.

I kind of felt like a freak.  No wonder church pews are empty for many of our congregations. There is a huge disconnect between these very nice people hoping against hope for free Toby Keith tickets and the very nice people who will offer an earnest exegesis of Exodus 17:1-7 this Sunday.  I don’t mean to be classist or judgemental in any way, but – in truth – I am.  Most people don’t care about Biblical exegesis.  They are trying to survive and – occasionally – they hope to get free concert tickets.  It takes a special commitment to want to change the world because we’ve had a personal encounter with the Holy. It’s a shift that changes how we feel about racing home to watch “Two and a Half Men.”

It sounds very judgemental and  even obnoxious.  But I’m looking for a different kind of life.  Yes, I need my grocery staples.  And I’m all about free stuff.  But what does it say about my ministry if I can’t connect with people who are  trying to survive out there? 

Just wondering on a random Tuesday.

The last time I attended a Big Church Meeting (i.e. Presbytery Assembly, Conference Meeting, Association Meeting, Diocese Meeting) the convener’s first words were:  “Please turn off all digital devices.”  In fairness to her, she could have meant turn silence your phones and pagers (although I’m not sure anyone uses a pager anymore.)

There are excellent reasons to use our smart phones, iPads, laptops, etc at these meetings.  I’m talking, of course, to digital immigrants here.  Digital natives clearly don’t need to be told but – sadly – the demographic for most institutional church meetings are people over the age of 45. 

This week when my new favorite ecclesiastical organization convenes, my hope is that everybody will have their digital devices turned on.  Yes, some people will be playing Sporcle or making their Peapod orders, but most of us will be engaging more deeply in the business at hand. 

If you need convincing, here are my Top Ten Reasons to go digital for your next Big Church Meeting.

1- It saves paper.  No need to print out the ream of paper digitally sent to us with assorted motions, policies, and statements.

2- It saves time.  Instead of asking a basic question in the microphone, you can ask others tweeting the meeting.

3- It helps with context.  I was new at my last Presbytery meeting and when people stood to make reports, I googled them to figure out who they were and what church they served.

4- It streamlines debate.  Before standing up to ask a question, I can ask a friend in the room via text-messaging and get my answer.

5- It improves debate.  I’ve been to meetings when someone tweets, “Who’s going to stand up and make the point that …”  Sometimes it’s good to have fresh voices.

6- It includes people who aren’t present.  I’ve tweeted meetings for one particular church geek in California who likes to hear what other Presbyteries are doing. 

7- It makes the meeting more fun.  Yes, it can be tempting to be snarky ( “Why is he still talking?“) but I’ve honestly experienced this very rarely.

8- It clarifies information.  If you miss what someone said, or you didn’t hear it clearly, you can ask someone else to repeat it. Best example:  When Phyllis Tickle referred to “Snoopy Dog” at The Great Emergence Conference in 2009, several clarified via tweets that she meant “Snoop Dog.”

9- It makes us pay attention more intently rather than less.  Again, when we have the opportunity to read a policy while simultaneously reading comments on the policy while having access to  background on the policy, focus is required.  And even  Jesus was a multitasker.  Remember this story?  Or this one?  He lays hands on the children, teaches the rich young ruler, throws in a couple parables and sayings all in one elegant sweep.

10- It connects people.  Many of us first met friends and colleagues via twitter, blogging, Facebook, Google +, etc. etc.   Isn’t this the point?  Connecting to each other and to God?

Special note to my Presbyterian friends:  if we are truly a connectional church and we aren’t connected via 21st Century methods, we’re begging to be obsolete as a Christian community.

Photo of hash tag art.  Source here.

From a conversation I had recently:

New Neighbor:   ___ told me you have a new job!

Me:  Yes, it’s great.

NN:  ____ said if you don’t leave the institutional church after this, you probably never will.

Me: (weird look on my face)

Me:  Actually it’s kind of wonderful.  I get to deal with things that would definitely make some people want to leave the institutional church.  But my job involves making the way clear for people to do what God is calling them to do.

NN:  Yeah, but church people love power games.

Me:  (in my head)  Yep, some people are @X*!& or they have their theology is the Christian version of this guy or they had some horribly scarring fraternity hazing experience that makes them want to haze people too.

Me: (what I really said) Well, that’s true.  But my job is permission-giving within the parameters of our theology and norms. 

NN:  (weird look on her face)

Happy Friday.

I once started a random Tuesday morning listening to my office answering machine messages only to be blasted by someone who was furious that I hadn’t gotten back to her the day before.  She had called on Monday morning –  the previous day -asking me to call her later that same day.  When she didn’t get a return call by 3, she called again, very upset that “I was ignoring her.”  And then she had called late Monday night even more furious that I had failed to respond to her message.  “What have you been doing all day that you have been too busy (insert sarcastic tone here) to return my call?”  

The truth is that I couldn’t tell her where I’d been doing Monday without possibly breaking a confidence.  I had been in court with someone about a very sensitive issue and it was too small a congregation and too small a town to say much about that.  Anybody could have easily guessed who was in court and why.  No, I couldn’t check my messages.  I was a character witness and needed to stay in the courtroom all day.  And no I didn’t go by the church building to check messages after court because I was exhausted and went straight home to bed.

These kinds of things – private pastoral things – happen all the time if you are a good pastor.  But the problem is that most people do not see us in courtrooms or offices or jail cells.  And if they don’t see us working, they may not believe we are working. 

I once knew a church volunteer who expected me to be in the church building when she was in the church building.  Otherwise, I must not be working.  Many good pastors actually work the most hours out in the world – in hospitals and coffee shops and homes.  Nobody follows us around and watches what we do.  We only work with an audience on Sunday mornings or when we teach classes and lead meetings. 

Sometimes we can’t even tell people what we did on a given day.  And – just like a new parent whose day flies by without much obvious accomplishment after a mountain of small tasks were achieved – there are some days in a clergyperson’s life when administrivia wins.  No sermon was written.  No visits were made.  But, by golly, 30 e-mails were answered and two monthly reports were written and the mail was sorted. 

In my current job, I hear parishioners who share that their pastors “don’t do anything.”  That’s possible.  But it’s also possible that their pastor could be sitting with a mentally ill person in the hospital or driving a homeless family to the shelter in the next town.  Sometimes pastors do things that most parishioners can’t even know about.

And this is why it’s lovely to send your pastor a token of your appreciation when he or she retires or moves on.  (See yesterday’s post.)

Icon by Christina Saj