A Church for Starving Artists

A few years ago, I was talking with a 60-something pastor and our conversation went something like this:

Pastor:  I’m pretty tired but I can’t retire yet.  I still have a mortgage.

Me:  How’s the energy level in your congregation?

Pastor:  It’s hard to get anyone to do anything.  But I can hang on. Preach old sermons.  Do the basics. I’ve done some calculations and there’s enough money in the endowment for me to retire about the time I celebrate my 72nd birthday.

Me:

What I wanted to say was “Get behind me Satan.”  How dare we stay in a pastoral position – with little or no energy – long enough to drain a congregation’s endowment?

That’s an extreme example.  But we can all name pastors who waited too long to retire.  Their congregations suffered from a lack of energy and imagination, if not intelligence and love too.  For some of those congregations, by the time the pastor retired, they had reached a point of no return in terms of their capacity to be The Church.

We can also name pastors who retired with a great deal of energy and creativity.  I know superb pastors who reinvented themselves through the years and took imaginative risks up to the last day of their tenure.  I call them Seasoned Allies and I want to be like them.  (Note: Today is my 61st birthday which also happens to be National Napping Day – almost like the cosmos is suggesting I slow down.)

Retirement is looming for the majority of our PCUSA pastors and we 50/60-somethings are called to leave a strong and healthy Church for the next generations of leaders and followers.

I’m in Kansas City for the NEXT Church National Conference this week.  And I’m leading a workshop today called Seasoned Allies.  This will be an opportunity for Baby Boomer pastors to discuss how we might make way for younger leaders to take the helm. 

If you are, yourself, a Boomer, I’d love to hear your thoughts on your own retirement expectations.  If you identify as Generation X or Millennial, I’d love for you to share what you’d like Boomers to know.  Thanks. I’ll report back.

At this I awoke and looked, and my sleep was pleasant to me. Jeremiah 31:26

I believe that sleep is a spiritual gift, especially if we define spiritual gifts as those God-given endowments bestowed upon us to help fulfill the mission of the Church. (Definition found here.)

I do my best work when I am rested.  I do my worst work when I’m exhausted.

A couple of fun facts about sleep:

• Ambien is the 4th most prescribed psychiatric drug in the U.S.  (Yes it’s considered a psychiatric drug to be taken only short-term according to this.)
• Infants spend about half their sleep time in REM (rapid eye movement) sleep while adults spend only about 20% of our sleep time in REM sleep.
• Non-REM but almost-REM sleep is the time when our body reboots, our heart rates slows, our muscles and bones repair themselves.
• 40% of adults in the U.S. have difficulties sleeping,

I almost never have trouble sleeping.  The night my father phoned to tell us that Mom was going to die, I went right to sleep.

Like I said, sleep is a spiritual gift.

More than one pastor has told me that by the time their weekly Sabbath rolls around, he/she is so exhausted from the unrelenting duties of professional ministry that the whole day is spent sleeping.  (Note:  this could also be a sign of depression.)  After leaving a congregation I served for over 20 years, I moved halfway across the country and slept for three months.  Seriously, every part of me was utterly wiped out.

What can we do to promote deep, nourishing rest so that we can arise fresh each day to do ministry?

What helps people sleep?  A clear conscience?  A caffeine-free diet?  One of those sleep number beds?

One particularly disruptive sleep-killer is fear:  fear that something horrible will happen while we snooze (like rats will eat me) or fear that we forgot to do something that day or fear that we will not survive this _____.

There are 49 words for “fear” in the Hebrew Bible and 15 words for “fear” in the Greek Bible.  I can name something to fear for every letter in the alphabet.

But God wants us to sleep as if the world can spin without us. Because it will.

Image source.

• 20th Century ministry often involved Strategic Planning.
• 21st Century ministry often involves Visioning.

The world has changed.  And some (most?) congregations want quick fixes even when we know intellectually that cultural shifting is neither swift nor easy. We will never return to the 1950s Church no matter how much we try to get back there.  Never going to happen.

So we brainstorm.  We envision.  We imagine.  We study.  We read what the pros say.  We listen to what the consultants say.  We make a plan.  Or we don’t.

The bravest among us try lots of things and see what sticks.  The bravest among us embrace failure.  The bravest among us take the innovation leap.

It’s time to be brave.

How many of us have gone through visioning programs and then put the final report on the shelf?  How many of us have spent serious money to work with consultants only to find our people too tired or too scared to execute the consultants’ suggestions?

Concrete – made of gravel, ash, sand, and industrial waste – is ugly and unbendable.  Sometimes it crumbles.  It can be crushed.

But a little concrete in our visioning is necessary.  We need to take solid steps forward – even if we also take a few steps backwards.  We need to act upon our vision for the Church or else we will find ourselves stuck naval gazing or worse – hang wringing.

There is no single game plan for implementing a vision.  But we indeed start with something – a vision  – and then do something  – concrete. Even concrete can shift and be reconfigured, so don’t worry that we are creating something immovable.

Consider Jesus who did many concrete things.

HH and I live in a mansion compared to how most people in the world live.  All our grown kids and dogs fit when they are visiting.  But compared to our neighbors, it’s a medium sized house.

We raised our family in a one bathroom home and it worked out just fine.  We
now have a lavish 1.5 bathroom home which feels luxurious.  And the biggest plus about our current home is a humongous backyard where we’ve thrown one wedding and could accomodate at least four Tiny Houses – or six if we were willing to give up more green space.

And this brings me to my Tiny House Dreams.  Retirement is closer than it used to be and so I find myself pondering how I might like to live post-professional ministry.  At this point, my dreams involve:

• Walkability and/or public transportation.  (I do not plan driving past my 80th birthday – which is a wildly radical thing to say considering I’ve not imagined I could live that long until recently.)
• High coziness quotient.  Comfy space.
• Super efficient.  Less furniture and more built in cabinets/book shelves.
• A place for guests/potential grandchildren and their parents.  And dog(s).

I have no idea where this dream life might happen geographically.  But this is what I ponder and it’s really fun.

Where and how will you live in – say – ten years?  What’s your dream?

Image of my new favorite Tiny House.

I need stories to connect.

• When you tell me stories about Jesus turning water into wine or calming storms, the power of God is more real to me than when you offer a lecture on The Power of God.
• When you tell me the story about when your sisters were adopted by A Nice Family, but that Nice Family wouldn’t adopt you until after you got corrective back surgery, I can offer better pastoral care than if you simply tell me you spent a couple years in an orphanage.
• When you tell me the story about your decision to share a child for adoption, I can understand your stance on abortion better than if you merely put a pro-life bumper sticker on your fender.
• When you tell me the story about that time your special needs child was excluded from an art class, I get why you work as an public education activist.

We need stories to make sense of the world.  My political proclivities have been impacted by my personal experiences with LGBTQ people and refugees and undocumented workers and people of color and immigrants.  I would like to hear the personal stories which have impacted your own politics.

Sharing our stories might well save us from further divisiveness in this country and throughout the world.  It’s harder to hate people when we know what they’ve been through in life.

Image by Brian Moore 

I’ve mentioned before that I love this question asked of a pastoral candidate by a search committee:  Tell us a time you’ve led change?

I like it even more when the candidate also gets to ask the search committee that question, as in:  Tell me a time when your congregation has led change?

Here are a couple more questions that offer layers of insights, especially if you ask both the candidate and the search committee:

1. What Impresses You About a Congregation or a Pastor?

• Numbers?  As in  “Our church has 4000 members” or “Our budget is $3 million” or “Our pastor makes six figures a year.”
• Educational Credentials?  As in “She has a degree from Harvard” or “Most of our members have doctorates” or “He studied with Ed Friedman.“
• Diversity?  As in “Our congregation is comprised of a variety of age groups” or “We have members from ten different countries” or “Our community includes homeless members and wealthy members and everyone in between.”
• Real Estate?  As in “Our church campus boasts two buildings and a gym” or “Our building is on the historic register” or “Our sanctuary was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.“
• Music?  As in “Our section leaders are members of the City Opera” or “Our choir tours the country each summer” or “Our pastor is also a jazz pianist.”
• Mission Projects? (which could also be about numbers) As in “We support 43 different mission projects” or “We go on mission trips every summer” or “We send all our money to a hospital in Haiti.“
• Serving broken people? As in “Our pastor teaches us how to reach out to neighbors” or “We have good relationships with our local school officials and civic leaders to identify the needs of the community” or “We are especially connected to the homeless and victims of domestic violence in our town.”

Look into their eyes when they answer this question.

2. What do you not want me/us to know about you?

• Does your church have secrets they don’t want to talk about?
• Is there a power player in the congregation who bullies every pastor the church calls?
• Do you fail to practice Sabbath?
• Is there a group that wields most of the power in the church?  (And – if they are willing to spill it: who are they?)
• Do you have a history of poor relationships with co-workers?
• Do you need to be the smartest person in the room?
• Are you threatened by talented church members?

Give them time to think about this before answering.

3. How have your leadership skills changed to better serve the 21st Century Church (if you are the potential pastor) or (if you are the search committee) how is your church’s organizational structure and culture different than it was 10-20 years ago?

• Has nothing really changed?
• Is change hard for you/the congregation because of a lack of energy? Fear of failure? You don’t know how?

Interviews can be fun and inspiring.  They can offer insights about what we are really looking for and what we are not at all looking for.

Because Lent is a time of discernment this is an especially good time for churches looking for new pastors and pastors looking for new churches these days.  Spend some time prayerfully considering the deeper matters at hand.  Authentic discernment takes time.

We’re all gonna die.  But until that happens . . .

I sometimes wonder about how I will die.  When you’ve watched your parents die young and you’ve sat with countless others while they breathed their last breath (i.e. the life of a pastor),  it feels quite real.  I tend not to deny death.  Instead, I tend to be surprised it hasn’t happened yet.

My funeral plans are on my phone if you happen to be with me when I pass away.  Grab my phone and look for “If I Die This Year.”  (I change it every January 1^st.)

My parents died of breast cancer and lymphoma.  My grandparents died of “old age” (read: heart issues, lung issues, more cancer.)  I could die in an accident, especially since I spend a lot of time in cars and airplanes.  My children have had to remind me not to text behind the wheel even at red lights.  (Note:  I don’t text while driving anymore but confess before you and God that I might text at a red light.)

I could be hit as a pedestrian.  I could fall down a flight of stairs.  I could contract a super virus.  I could be poisoned.  I could be struck by lightning.

There are surprise deaths and there are expected deaths and – if I could choose – I’d go with expected.  As horrible as it was when my parents died after being poked and prodded and zapped and maimed, we got to say good-bye.  We got to relish final conversations and take note of every Last Thing.

Ash Wednesday reminds us that we’re all going to die.  But until that happens, I will eat kale.  And more importantly, I will try to make my Creator happy out of immense gratitude for this gorgeous life I have been given which has included human skin, a brain that loves to read and learn, taste buds that crave cheese and chocolate, an unspeakably breathtaking planet, and relationships that have embellished and inspired and infuriated and broken and blessed my life beyond all telling.

My theology is that this life is not about getting into heaven.  (How much are we actually worshipping God if this is a transactional relationship?  I live a “good life” so that I can “go to heaven”?)

My theology is that this life is about making earth as it is in heaven.  Jesus taught us to pray to that effect.  And I like that about God.

We are all going to die but until that happens, I believe we were born to live lives that make our Creator happy.  The details differ but the basic idea is to love as Jesus loves.

A blessed Ash Wednesday to all.

Life feels messy and even dirty sometimes.

I prefer sun-filled rooms and open communication.  As I continue to travel throughout the Church for denominational work, I find that – like families – churches  with secrets tend to be broken and dysfunctional. Sure there’s some business that needs to stay confidential.  But while confidences are kept for the health of a person or organization, secrets perpetuate the brokenness of a person or organization.

Our congregations and mid-councils (not to mention our government and businesses) are filled with secrets or half-truths spread to perpetuate a certain bias.

For example, The President spoke at a Boeing plant in S.C. last week and said, “This plane, as you know, was built right here in the great state of South Carolina. Our goal as a nation must be to rely less on imports and more on products made here in the U.S.A.”  But the truth is that the plane being highlighted that day was Exhibit A for globalization:

“It’s fuselage comes from Italy. The wings are from Japan. Passenger doors are built in France.” (Source here.)  It’s indeed great to be “made in America.”  It’s also great to be “made everywhere and put together in America.”  Speaking the truth bolsters trust and makes us understand what’s really going on.

I hear Mid-Councils – as I travel around – talk about shifting budgets and staff structures, when actually the budgets and staffs often remain the same. The truth is that the money is reallocated to a new line item.  Or the staff members have different titles with the same responsibilities.   Sometimes we think we are doing new things but  – in truth –  maybe we aren’t.

It’s okay to tell the truth.  Trust us. We can take it.

Shedding light on the underbellies and the processes of our organizations bolsters relationships. And because trust levels are at an all-time low in our institutions, it’s essential that we share as much of the whole truth as we can share for the sake of organizational health.

I visited one Mid-Council recently and was impressed with the way they openly discussed one of those skeletons in the closet that most of us like to pretend never happened.  It was treated with such transparency and grace that it made me – personally – feel inspired.  Yes, we are indeed Resurrection People and we can overcome mistakes and failures.  What a concept.

Some of us will remember the refreshing smell of bedsheets dried on a clothesline out in the sunshine. Some of us know people who openly – and lovingly – share their mental illness, their business failures, the child they shared for adoption, the child they lost to addiction, their own addiction, their lessons learned.

These are the things of a real family, a real church, a real community of churches. Life is messy and sunshine disinfects the messiest of systems.  We, as the Church of Jesus Christ, can never be healthy until we are as transparent as possible and as safe as possible.

Note: Louis Brandeis is credited with saying, “Sunlight is said to be the best of disinfectants” in Other People’s Money—and How Bankers Use It (1914)

What would you do . . .

• if someone was denigrating one of your friend or colleague in a public meeting?
• if you came upon a person who was being openly bullied at a party?
• if you had information that would save someone but sharing that information would put your own life at risk?

Would you be brave?

The photo above by Ernest Withers shows one of the most iconic images of bravery in American history.  The Rev. Moses Wright, uncle of Emmett Till, stood only 5 feet 3 inches tall.  But he was a giant of courage when he pointed his finger at J.W. Milam and then Roy Bryant who had kidnapped Rev. Wright’s nephew in the middle of the night and later murdered him.

As Timothy Tyson writes in The Blood of Emmett Till:

No doubt many though that Wright had pronounced his own death sentence by identifying the two white men who had taken his nephew.

In more recent news, Ian Grillot is being credited with showing uncommon courage by attempting to stop the shooter of two Indian men in a Kansas bar last week.  He risked his own life, later saying from his hospital bed, “I was just doing what anyone should have done for another human being.”

I wish I believed that most people would have done what Ian Grillot did.  I pray I that I would naturally do what’s right even at personal risk to myself.

In these days when immigrants are being targeted, when refugees are being turned away, when People of Color are presumed to be dangerous, when Muslims are presumed to be terrorists, when transgender people are no longer protected,  we have got to be brave.  We have got to be prepared to step between the bully and the bullied.  We have got to be strong in the face of violence.

My hope is that – in light of his words and actions – President Trump will ultimately make us braver.  God uses everything.  And I pray that God will use these days of the Trump Administration to inspire us to stand up for what is right.

It’s often dangerous to stand up on behalf of the vulnerable, but today calls for more of us to be like Moses Wright. Rev. Wright died in 1966.

The first grave you see when you enter Burr Oak Cemetery is Mamie Till Mobley’s grave.  Her only child was Emmett Till.

When I lived in upstate New York (my first call in professional ministry) I lived ten miles from a real grocery store. When I lived in Northern Virginia (my second call in professional ministry) I lived 8 miles from The White House.  And now (in my third call in professional ministry) I live nine miles from the grave of Emmett Till.  I just figured this out a couple weeks ago.

I have passed this grave countless times on the way to Midway Airport without realizing it.

August 28, 1955:  It was my mother’s 22nd birthday and she was in her first trimester of pregnancy with me. It was also the day that Emmett Till died

Mom was a year older that Emmett Till’s accuser who would admit decades later that she’d lied about most of her testimony.  He had not assaulted her.  He had not spewed vulgar language.  At most, Emmett Till had put the cash to pay for his items directly into her hand rather than onto the counter.  He had dared to graze her hand when he paid her.  He would be brutally, horrifically murdered for this social infraction.

He was fourteen years old.  

I’ve read several accounts of Emmett Till’s murder through the years, but most recently, I read Timothy B. Tyson’s The Blood of Emmett Till which I strongly recommend.

Today, when we say that Black Lives Matter, we are expressing a holy Truth.  It’s also true that we have not cherished the lives of Black Americans in this country.  And Emmett Till’s grave one of countless examples of this.

Now, every time I pass by the cemetery at 127th and Cicero, I will be aware of a holy place along that ordinary roadway where a mother put her child to rest and now rests there herself.  I stood over his grave last week and all I could say is, “I am so sorry.”

To my white sisters and brothers: it’s on us to learn about white supremacy.  We have got to talk about this, think about this, step up against this.  What happened to Emmett Till still happens.  We have got to be braver than we’ve ever been before.