A Church for Starving Artists

Yesterday, I wrote that I’d like to have a deeper knowledge of brain science so I can be more like Leonardo da Vinci.  Or something like that.

As I write this from St. Louis  – where I’m diving deeply into transitional ministry education – it’s interesting how often brain science is mentioned.

Sisters and brothers, did you know that:

• Our brains work in an “open loop system” which means that if I sense that you might threaten me, my prefrontal cortex will semi-shut down?  In other words, when we feel safe, our brains open up to be more creative.  (Thank you Rabbi S.M.)  This means it’s hard to be creative in a congregation of people who don’t trust each other.
• Research suggests that negative emotions are like Velcro and positive emotions are like Teflon?  In other words, constructive criticism sticks to us and compliments slide off us faster than a fried egg glides off a polytetrafluoroethylene skillet .  (Thank you Ivey Business Journal.) This means it’s hard to forget that parishioner’s comment about your “disappointing sermon.”  But we easily forget the parishioner’s comment about how much the funeral homily meant to them.

   

I’m telling you: this stuff is fascinating.

Positive emotions bring out the best in people and so consider what it does to someone’s brain when he/she lives in constant fear, deprivation, and anxiety.  Or – in Church World – when parishioners believe that their heritage is being taken away or their spiritual practices are being challenged or their sacred assumptions are being crushed.

We. Need. More. Emotionally. Intelligent. Leaders.  

Emotional intelligence is a better predictor of pastoral success than straight As on a seminary transcript.  Emotionally intelligent people better manage their stress, diffuse anxiety, and promote a climate of optimism and adaptability which makes people feel more innovative.  It’s science, people.

Note:  while I’m learning this week, I covet your suggestions for further brain science and leadership studies.  (Thanks.)

Image source.

What would you say is your area of expertise?  Are you an amazing teacher?  An excellent gardener?  A stellar clarinet player? Maybe you are deeply good at several things.

Personally, I’m a pretty good preacher, church whisperer, mediator, teacher and consultant.  Notice how all those things fall into one basic category though: Church World.

I need to get out more:  out of the office, out of the non-profit management section of the book store, out of the sanctuary, out of the meeting room.

I’m working on it.  Possibilities:  I would like to know everything about brain science and perfect coffee-making.  I would like to learn how to make my own donuts.

Robert C. Wolcott of Northwestern University teaches Innovative Leadership and he says that the best 21st Century leaders live in multiple worlds with two or more areas of ‘deep knowledge.’  Ronald Burt of the University of Chicago says that it doesn’t matter what those two areas are, just so they are different:  piano and baseball, orthopedics and pastry-making.  When we have two areas of expertise, they inform each other and we learn how to speak other “languages.” It makes everything more interesting.

At the risk of getting into a political argument (that’s not my intention) I was reading this and learned the German word “fachidiot” which means a person who is brilliant in a narrow field but ignorant in pretty much everything else.  Let’s not be like that.  Innovative people are not fachidiots.

Think about Leonardo Da Vinci – the original Renaissance Man – who had deep knowledge in the fields of portrait painting, human anatomy, engineering, and birds.  He invented musical instruments.  The man was clearly a polymath.

Contemporary examples of people with at least two areas of deep knowledge include Condoleezza Rice (international diplomacy, piano), Matthew Putman (physicist, jazz composer, poet), and Brian May (astrophysicist, guitarist from Queen.)  We can’t be as amazing as those folks, but broadening our horizons transforms more than our own lives.

Our congregations are in dire need of innovators who know how to make changes – not for change’s sake – but in order to become the Church we were created to be in these whirlwind times.  We need to speak multiple cultural languages.

One of the reasons many our congregations are struggling is because we are only informed by Church World.  We have forgotten that we are called out into the glorious world of quantum physics and Moroccan history and bonsai cultivation and Thai cooking and landscape architecture and . . .

It’s okay that we can’t be like Leonardo da Vinci, or even Condi Rice.  But our lives and our communities will be enhanced if we become experts at something that feeds our souls (outside the office.)

Image is a self-portrait of Leonardo da Vinci.  It’s okay that we can’t be like him.

My friend Landon reminded me this week that – when President Obama welcomed the World Cup winning U.S. Women’s Soccer Team to the White House Tuesday – he said,  “This team taught all America’s children that ‘playing like a girl’ means you’re a badass…”

I grew up in the South and Southern ladies do not say words like “badass” nor are we encouraged to aspire to such behavior.  And yet, I have also worked in professional ministry for a long time and I’ve found that everyday badassery is extremely helpful when dealing with the rigors of serving the people of God.

The Urban Dictionary defines badassery as “Engaging in seemingly impossible activities and achieving success in a manner that renders all onlookers completely awestruck.”  Yes, please.

And I say this believing that no badassery is possible without divine help. Seriously – God blessed Abby Wambach and company with some heavenly skills.

The truth is that the people of God – clergy and non-clergy alike – can be mean, conniving, selfish, and every other colorful but flawed characteristic.  We see the very best and the very worst of people each day. (And sometimes we are those very best and very worst people.)

I saw this yesterday (thank you Bec Cranford-Smith) about pastoral depression, the incidence of friendless pastors, etc. and – clearly – we pastors need to hone our badassery skills.   Yes, professional ministry is lonely.  Yes, we are often Sabbath-challenged.  Yes, people believe they can treat us like doormats because they assume we will not confront them on it.

But this is not our calling.  We are called to be awesome – for the sake of something greater than ourselves.

We are called to overcome injustice, choose faith over fear, and be kind – even to those who don’t deserve it.  We are called to everyday badassery in the name of One whose leadership was based on self-sacrifice that leads to transformation and strength based on utter integrity.

Landon privately challenged me and Rocky Supinger to consider the call to badassery this week, and I appreciate Rocky’s particular nod to clergywomen.    But guys – do not disappoint us.  We need to see “seemingly impossible activities that render us awestruck” from you too.  For the love of God, show us  your best selves.

Image source.

Picture

It used to be true that seminaries taught students to develop our Preaching Voice.  They were not talking about a preacher’s poetic or hermeneutical style. They were talking about one’s literal voice.

Some seminaries went as far as teaching how to gaze upward, hold hands firmly in the air, make a Power Stance, and – in some cases – eliminate all traces of “distracting accents.”  It was not unusual for someone to speak one way in a pulpit and another way in regular conversation.

Yuck.

Maybe this still happens in some 21st Century seminaries.  But while fewer people are interested in listening to traditional sermons (according to assorted church attendance studies), live storytelling slams and radio shows are booming in popularity.  I, for one, listen to This American Life, StoryCorps, Radiolab, and The Moth podcasts faithfully every week, and I’m not the only one.

They have become the sermons that inform my life and stir me spiritually.

Ira Glass – called “the most influential speaker” here utters kind of a nasally, imperfect sound.  The great Sarah Vowell has a playful voice with which she speaks hugely informative and entertaining tales about U.S. history.   They do not sound like polished (insert certain famous-ish seminary name here) graduates, but I could listen to either of them all day.

This excellent article speaks to why 20th Century Preaching is not as well-received in these days of “slangy approachability” and “confessional tones.”

So imagine this:  a trained professional pastor (if we must have one) sets up a real person’s story with The Story from scripture.  If I’m the preacher, I read from one of Paul’s letters or a Minor Prophet’s warnings or a poetic Wisdom piece or one of Jesus’ parables.  And then someone tells “a true story told live” in The Moth‘s parlance.

I’m in.  How about you?

Ira Glass says it best:  “Any story hits you harder if the person delivering it doesn’t sound like a news robot but, in fact, sounds like a real person having the reactions a real person would.”  Amen.

PS – Ira Glass?  Sarah Vowell?  Yes.  I am a stereotype.

In cancer news yesterday, bacon was compared to tobacco and asbestos.

Lord have mercy.  Christ have mercy.  Lord have mercy.

“The (Lancet) conclusion puts processed meats in the same category of cancer risk as tobacco smoking and asbestos,” says the World Health Organization – but, the International Agency for Research on Cancer helpfully adds that “this does not mean that they are equally dangerous.”  Good to know.

For the record, a lot of things we love are known carcinogens:  sunshine, pickles, aloe vera, and Crème fraîche.  Some carcinogens are obviously worse than others, and it’s clear that eating mounds of salami every day is a terrible idea.

We’ve “always” known that bacon is bad for us.  But bacon is also an established hipster staple, not to mention essential for creating the perfect sandwich.  What are bacon-lovers to do?

And is this a spiritual question?

Our Jewish and Muslim sisters and brothers may say, “We told you so” or rather – God told us so according to the Hebrew Scriptures and the Quran (via the prophets.)  We Christians believe that Jesus offers a new law that sets us free from “the old law” (although tell that to our Christian kinfolk who cling to some of the abomination passages in Leviticus.)  Many of us have been eating pork with reckless abandon all our lives – especially on Christian holidays.

And what do our vegetarian sisters and brothers say to all this – especially if their dietary choices are faith-based?

Do we embrace:

• Live and let live?  (You can eat pork bellies, but I don’t have to.)
• Everything in moderation? (A favorite of people who like candy and porn.)
• Let’s tax bacon like Bloomberg tried to tax Big Gulps in NYC?
• My body is a temple and therefore no more bacon will pass my lips?

All of us clearly fall short of the glory of God, so  – bacon or no bacon –  we will not always get it right.  But here’s my quandary as a pastor to pastors:  can we figure out a way to have healthy conversations with each other about other things that are “bad for us” and bad for our people (i.e. “stumbling blocks“) like . . . adultery, alcoholism, eating our feelings, overworking, having a savior complex, being financially irresponsible, and lying to ourselves?

These are the issues that hurt more people that bacon consumption, if you ask me.  And I say this as a person who hates cancer a lot.

Image of the popular and delicious Flight of Bacon at Bakin’ & Eggs – 3120 North Lincoln Avenue in Chicago.

. . . and neither can you.

I just finished Becoming Nicole – which is an excellent story and resource about a transgender child and her family.   As I read it, I remembered that there are certain people in this world whom I cannot serve as pastor. A character in the book  – who is a brother in Christ, by the way  – wrote these words on his organization’s website, as quoted by author Amy Ellis Nutt:

Ten year old boys should not even be thinking about whether they are a boy or a girl.  This entire issue is totally absurd.  If the medical profession can’t figure this out then the medical profession needs it’s head examined . . . I promise you this, the (Christian Civic) League is a friend to common sense . . . Like John the Baptist everyday we come to work and speak truth to power.  Some choose to repent and change course while others (King Herod) take another path. 

Well, there you have it.

I think this man’s editorial is 1) ignorant and 2) hateful.

Imagine this person being in your congregation.  It happens.  Sometimes there are people in our spiritual community who make us a little crazy, to the point that we can’t/don’t want to talk with them much less be the church with them.

There was such a person in a congregation I once served.   I prayed that I would see her as Jesus sees her.  I prayed that our hardened hearts would melt a bit.  I talked with spiritual mentors about how to serve her better. I tried to connect over lemon bars.

But it wasn’t happening.  Frankly, she was mean.  She was mean to me.  She was mean to her closest friends behind their backs.  She clearly didn’t consider me to be her spiritual leader no matter how hard I tried.

It finally occurred to me that it was okay that I couldn’t be her pastor.  I can’t be everyone’s pastor.

Sometimes the best we can do is hope that somebody can be her pastor.   For example, I recently spent time with another (mean) person who was giving his pastor a difficult time. He was obstinate, self-centered, crotchety, and ridiculous – sort of like me sometimes.  I asked to hear his story and he mentioned a small town in N.C. – which of course made me smile.  That was our connection.  He knew that I disagreed with him, but – for a moment – I could be his pastor when his real pastor could not.

This is what God does.

Now back to Amy Ellis Nutt’s book.  Please read it and share it.  My deep hope is that someone will be the right pastor for people who fear or do not understand transgender folks and that someone will be the right pastor for the transgender kid out there who feels alone.  Now, go buy the book.

It occurs to me that all my Midwest friends are pastors, seminarians, pastor spouses, or the children of pastors.  Yes, this is true.

I love my clergy/clergy-related friends and yet it also occurs to me that I need friends who are not church people.  Voila:  the Kellogg Non-Profit Management classes.

After my fourth Kellogg non-profit management class, I am filled with joy over the dessert that is People-Who-Do-Non-Profit-Work-Who-Are-Not-Clergy.  I took a class this week here (shameless plug) that – as I was sitting at my classroom desk – I wished all my creative colleagues could attend.

Imagine a group of non-profit leaders from the fields of law enforcement, education, art history, health care, finance, and peacemaking  from five nations plus the United States all talking about things like crucible experiences and “error blindness” correction and failure management and orthodoxy assessment.  I’m reminded of Nadia Bolz Weber sharing that her connection with cross training partners helped her remain sane-ish.  It’s crucial for emotional and theological reasons to have friends with no connection to The Church.

And so I wholeheartedly encourage you to seek out non-profit dreamers and leaders who are Not Like You.  It’s a privilege, a feast, and a soul-saving practice to compare notes with people who work in other nonprofits. I heartily recommend this.

I was talking with a stranger at a party and we were exchanging stories about all kinds of things – our kids, what we did as kids, what we do now.

Some of the stories were from my collection of personal classics:  taking our kids out of school to attend epic movie openings, that time I sneaked out of the house the night the Western Sizzler burned down.  Some of the stories were about my current work which often involves working the system to help congregations and pastors discern and act upon God’s calling.

“So you are a rule breaker,” my new friend said.  Actually, I’ve never thought of myself as a rule breaker.  On the contrary, I’m a good girl who follows (most of) the rules.  Or maybe I’m not.

Yesterday I attended another class with the Kellogg School Center of Nonprofit Management.  Note: Do yourself a favor and take one of these classes.  More about that later.

The brain candy this week is about innovation with professor Rob Wolcott who invited us to consider this:

What are the orthodoxies about how things must happen in your organization?

What would it look like to do the opposite?

For congregations “orthodoxies” have special weight because they are about God. God commands/demands/expects certain things.  The Bible tells me so.

And then there are the other orthodoxies that have more to do with custom than faith tradition:

• We always dress up for Sunday morning worship.
• We never drink coffee in the sanctuary.
• We always elect somebody from the ___ family to leadership positions.
• We never show film clips in worship.
• We always serve ham at the mission dinner.
• We never use real wine for communion.

I’m not saying we should dress down, slurp pew coffee, elect strangers to run things, replace sermons with movies, serve sushi, or tempt alcoholics, but I am saying that challenging what we’ve long considered to be the one and only way to do something is a good idea.  It’s not an easy idea to pitch sometimes, but it’s a good idea most of the time.

Counter-intuitive church is one of my favorite things.

So am I a ruler breaker?  Maybe.  But we all need to be challengers of the kind of “orthodoxies” that keep us stuck and out of touch.  Our institutional health depends on it.

Check this out.

As a single pastor, I was vaguely dating someone who attended worship one Sunday and a helpful/nosy parishioner about the age of my grandfather asked my semi-significant other:  “What are your intentions with our pastor?”  Oh, the joys of being The Single Pastor.

It occurs to me many years later that intentions are huge in life and ministry.  I marvel at the way my own twenty-something children are being intentional in their work and money decisions, while I had many years of just “letting things happen to me.”

I wonder, though, how much less intentional we are about our spiritual lives.

There are days when – honestly – I could leave The Church.  The so-not-important stuff seems to overwhelm the important stuff.  My ministry reveals that dark underbelly of humanity – only in spiritual communities which feels even darker. My job responsibilities involve getting called when somebody lies/cheats/plagiarizes/throws things.  (Really. I’ve been called when somebody threw things.)

But then I remember that being part of The Beloved Community involves being intentional:  I am going to be intentional about giving thanks, confessing my sins, reflecting on the sins of the universe (i.e. racism, sexism, greed, meanness) and discerning how I might live in a way that reflects the love of God.  I am going to be intentional about studying Scripture and telling the stories of my faith.  I am going to be intentional about singing what I believe.  I am going to be intentional about praying with and for people because it brings us closer to each other and to God.

I am pathetically lame at being a disciple of Jesus unless I make the commitment to be intentional.

I also wonder about our church people who cross the thresholds of countless church buildings on Sunday mornings and throughout the weekend because It’s What They Do/It’s What They Have Always Done, but there is no intentionality about this particular activity.  They/we sort of wander in and wander out.  A good experience means we saw some friends and got to sing a song we like.

What if we expected a profound experience?

What are our intentions when we gather as God’s people?  I believe that the answer to this question determines whether or not our faith communities will thrive in these changing days.

Image of the ceiling of the Chicago Cultural Center, mostly because I just like it.

Dear churches looking for pastors and other staff — sometimes the most convenient choice is not the best choice. This coming from someone who has been the convenient choice.  Bruce Reyes-Chow, Moderator of the 218th General Assembly, PCUSA

Now the Lord said to Abram, ‘Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.  Genesis 12:1,2

In the 21st Century Church, we are all about permission-giving and getting out of the way so that God can do what God does.  It’s often been considered a clear sign when something is so easy:  the painless process, the unmistakable clarity, the obvious decision.  I’m a big fan of getting out of the way when everything is right.

But I’m also aware that we can confuse what’s right for what’s easy.

• “It’s easy to call our Transitional Pastor to become our Called Pastor since we already know her and like her.”
• “It’s easy to call our ready-to-be-ordained Director of Education to become our Pastor of Education because he wants to be here, the parents like him, the kids like him.”
• “It’s easy to contract with the retired pastor who lives across the street to help us with pastoral care because . . . he lives across the street.”

In all those situations, the easy solutions could in fact be the best choices.  Or they could be the wrong choices but we are too tired to dig deep and figure out what our congregation really needs and if – in fact – there’s a call.

I increasingly experience people who are limiting their calls for the sake of convenience.  Note:  some of us are tied to a specific geographic location because of family considerations:  the spouse whose job is based here and only here, the grandparent who is on the cusp of eternity, the child who finally has the right oncologist.

I would ask those who say that they cannot move to ask themselves:

• Is it that we can’t move or that we really like our house and our lives here?
• Is it that we can’t move or that we don’t want to move farther away from our grown kids or our parents?
• Is it that we can’t move or that we basically hate the thought of moving?

Again, some of us truly cannot move.  But I have special admiration for those who channel their inner Abram:  The Texans who move to Michigan.  The Mainers who accept calls to Arizona.  The Pacific Northwesterners who follow God’s call to Florida. Only God moves people to leave everything they’ve ever known and become strangers in a strange land.

It’s so much easier to accept a call that doesn’t require that much transition.

Image of The Ziggurat in Ur near modern day Nasiriya, Iraq – the birth place of Abram.