The Big Idea

Big Light Bulb by ariwriter on Flickr. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0. (It’s really a water tower. What’s the big idea?)

What do you do when church ministries aren’t working like you want?

When they’ve lost their momentum?

When you just want them fixed and out of your hair?

You want The Big Idea.

The Big Idea will swoop down out of heaven and rescue you.  It’s bold.  Daring.  Out of the box.  It’s the Messiah of ideas.  It saves ministries.  Everyone wants The Big Idea.

Until they see one.

Because Big Ideas involve change and have work attached to them.

Everyone should immediately fall at the feet of The Big Idea, awestruck by its bold and daring messianic out of the box-ness.

The Big Idea is supposed feel good.  It’s supposed to fix everything.  Everyone should immediately fall at the feet of The Big Idea, awestruck by its bold and daring messianic out of the box-ness.  This thing here is . . . other.  Who knew “out of the box” meant we had to leave our box?

I was part of a strategic planning group for my church.  As we looked over our final recommendations, the chairman asked for comments and Skip spoke up.  Skip had retired from senior corporate management at a major oil company.  He’d seen plenty of strategic plans.  When he saw one, he looked for fear.  No fear means no challenge.  If The Big Idea doesn’t scare you, it’s not a big idea. 

People like their boxes.  Boxes are comfortable and secure.  Who wants to abandon the box they worked so hard to build?  How do I know things will be better outside my box?  If The Big Idea doesn’t demand something of you, it’s not a big idea.

Think of big ideas in science.  Copernicus put the sun at the center of the solar system.  Joseph Lister told surgeons that infections came from germs.  Those big ideas had to unseat the previous big idea and there was plenty of resistance.  If The Big Idea doesn’t threaten you, it’s not a big idea.

Congregations expect pastors to have that next Big Idea that instantly sends people running to the ministry.  And they think it works the other way around:  if people aren’t running to the ministry, there hasn’t been a Big Idea.  That’s The Problem with The Big Idea.  Some walk away because they feel scared, demanded of, and threatened, regardless of how big the idea is.  The Big Idea is less about solving problems and more about making them go away.

Big Ideas die from lack of work.  They aren’t quick or easy.  Big Ideas are a test of your priorities, your commitment, and your desire.  And they can change the world.

“We would rather be ruined than changed
We would rather die in our dread
Than climb the cross of the moment
And let our illusions die.” – W.H. Auden

Reflections on youth ministry: School vs church

So, so sleepy . . . ” by Clemsonunivlibrary on Flickr. (CC BY-NC 2.0). Would coffee have helped?

We’ve had yet another school shooting this week.  Some people, like the American Family Association, say we’d have fewer shootings if we had God back in the schools.  School life would be better, the reasoning goes, if we had God, or prayer, in our schools.  In my part of the world, Young Life and the Fellowship of Christian Athletes have such a large presence in schools that I don’t think you can make a credible claim that God isn’t in the schools.  But schools definitely interfere with a church’s youth ministry.

Schools make demands on our kids like never before.  Maybe we need prayer in schools because students don’t have time for church.  Students today are more overcommitted, over-homeworked, and over-AP-classed than ever before.  And the pressure to have the right college resume is constant.  I was in the corporate world for 30 years before entering the ministry and did a lot of hiring.  Five years after you graduate, where you went to college just isn’t that important.

My first Christmas after arriving at a new church, I suggested the youth group carol to homebound church members.  The students were uneasy.  They kept saying they didn’t have musical skill, weren’t talented singers, that singing wasn’t something they did often.  That surprised me; I thought everyone caroled.  Besides, the people you visit don’t care how well you sing, they’re just happy you’re there.  It didn’t hit me until later – the standard of perfection is so high that students can’t sing for the fun of it.  Everything has to be professional quality. 

This isn’t the student’s idea.  Just as millennials didn’t invent participation trophies, today’s students are approaching life as they’ve been taught.  They have to do it all and do it at the highest level.  If you aren’t taking at least four AP classes, something is wrong.  If you don’t spend 12 hours a day at school, something is wrong.  If you haven’t graduated with enough college credit to cover your freshman year, something is wrong.  Everyone expects you to be overwhelmed and overcommitted.  We are completely bought in to this culture.  Nothing has been taken from us – we handed it over.  We don’t need to worry about keeping God out of schools while schools are keeping kids out of church. 

We see a lot in the news about teenage anxiety, depression, and suicide.

Is it possible a little less time in school and a little more in church would help? 

Getting Past the Greeters

Football 9.27” by Mike Hoff on Flickr. (CC BY-NC 2.0). I don’t know if he got past them.

In my feral state, I’m visiting different worship services in the area.  It’s a little awkward, because I’m not looking for a church, I’m evaluating how these people do it.  After a few visits, I decided to see how far I could get into a church before someone speaks to me.  I don’t avoid greeters, but I don’t catch their attention either.  Do they approach me?  Usually not.  You can count on being greeted if you catch the greeters’ attention; you first must greet the greeter.  I visited the outrageously huge Baptist church that deploys an army of volunteers in the parking lot to direct traffic and guide pedestrians.  There are as many people in the parking lot as there are in other churches’ worship services.  I walked past both them and the greeters just inside the door.  The usher spoke to me as he handed me a bulletin for the service.  (People are more likely to talk to you if they have to hand you something.)  The person I sat next to introduced herself and asked if I was a visitor.  The greetings that count are people who say hello when they don’t have to. 

I know a couple who spent a year touring the country by RV.  They went to church nearly every Sunday.  The congregations they enjoyed most were ones where they were greeted by people outside the greeting team.  When someone reaches out who doesn’t have to, people feel they’ve truly been seen. 

Many churches have processes in place to account for visitors.  Some ask you to sign their attendance pads, including your contact information.  Anything can happen at that point, from nothing at all to a call from the pastor to an email inviting you to the new member class.  Some offer free gifts at their welcome desk for first time visitors.  I did a highly unscientific survey of my Facebook nation about these gifts.  Nearly everyone said they would not take them.  Their reasons range from “it’s not why I’m there” to “staying out of their system” to “I don’t want something I won’t use.”  I haven’t taken any gifts because it seems unfair to take a gift when I know I won’t join the church.  Most visitors want a simple, no obligation visit to a warm, friendly congregation.

I want to give a shout out to Aldersgate UMC in Carrollton.  Rodney Whitfield and the congregation do a great job.  I was greeted by an usher.  Once I took my seat, I was greeted by the people next to me, the people behind me, and the people in front of me turned around and greeted me.  People greeted me after the service as I was leaving the sanctuary.  They have been far and away the most welcoming congregation I’ve visited.

This sounds like a game.  On one side, there’s a church attempting to contact you through systems that sound reasonable but pour time and effort into the ineffective, when what is most effective is spontaneous.  On the other side, visitors are trying to avoid being put on another list to receive emails and calls they don’t want, suspicious of being pressed into a commitment they don’t want to make, and trying to keep a low profile.

Churches should retire the phrase “radical hospitality”.  It’s been used so often for so many things that it has no meaning.  Some congregations rebranded what they were already doing, without changing a thing.  Others rolled out a new program and called it “radical hospitality” before actually carrying out the new program.  People thought, “If the pastor’s calling it radical hospitality, that must be what we’re doing.”  I know the term was used in the book “Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations” by Robert Schnase.  I haven’t read the book and may be reinventing the wheel, but here’s my take.

I moved a lot growing up.  I’ve often been the new person.  I’ve experienced true hospitality, but also false sincerity, subtle hostility, and being consciously ignored.  True hospitality comes from the conviction there is room for everyone, space for one more friend, one more place at the table.  You are vulnerable; you don’t know what the encounter will bring.  It’s an act of faith.  The others come from being uncomfortable with that vulnerability, protecting what “my church” should be, seeing a change to the surroundings as a threat.  It is also true that being a guest requires vulnerability.  Hospitality includes gratefully accepting a sincere welcome, entering the space you’ve been invited into.  True hospitality happens between two generous souls.

So maybe my game isn’t an effective way to judge hospitality.  Maybe I’ll make eye contact with a greeter this week.

Feral Deacon #3 – God sends you people

“Is that an Aggie ring?”

A lot of great conversations start that way.  I was doing some work in a coffee house and was clearly the oldest person in the room.

I said yes, I was Class of 1982.  She was class of 2018.  We just missed each other.  She’d majored in biomedical science and was now a medical student.  I told her I had an engineering degree, but now I was a pastor so you never know what can happen.  With pleasantries exchanged, she went to the next table to study with a friend. 

After they’d finished, she came back to me and asked, “Do you have a minute to talk?”  Unless the building is on fire, aliens are attacking, or Elvis is really alive, I have time to talk.  And so she sat down.

Our conversation is private, but I do want to say this – every time someone I’ve just met and who has just discovered I’m a pastor wants to talk, their story is the same. 

Every time.

It always goes like this:

  1. I belonged to this church and was a good church member.  I gave money/time/talent and supported the church every chance I got, sang in the choir, taught children’s Sunday school, etc.
  2. But this thing happened.  A terrible thing.  And I’m devastated and ashamed.  And I turned to my church for support.
  3. But instead of support and comfort I got judgment and condemnation.  I don’t know where to turn.

The story is the same.
Every time.
Every single time.

Their questions are never:

  • Why do people do that?
  • What’s wrong with them?
  • How do they justify treating me this way?

Their questions are always:

  • Are they right?
  • Am I really who they say I am?
  • Do I deserve this?

The same questions.
Every time.
Every single time.
Every. Single. #$%& Time

Half the church spends its time unscrewing what the other half screwed.

This was a lively, energetic, bright young woman.  She was outgoing enough to start up a conversation with a total stranger over his Aggie ring.  Life hit her hard in a way she hadn’t seen coming and she was still trying to understand it. 

The proper responses include:

  • I’m so sorry this happened
  • Nothing can make God love you less
  • What happened here is part of your story, but it is not your identity.  It happened to you, but it does not define you.
  • It’s OK to be angry, hurt, and disappointed.  But not all congregations are like that.  There are congregations out there that can help you heal.

It seems that when I hear people share dramatic conversion stories, they aren’t convicted of their unworthiness by condemnation or ostracism.  They are convicted when:

  • Their spouse leaves them
  • They’re in handcuffs
  • A loved one says, “Let go! You’re hurting me!”
  • They hold in their hand the means for ending their life

The people that converted them met them in their feelings of unworthiness and showed them their worthiness as people God loves.  They have a chance to change.  That’s what the church is called to do.

Every time.
Every single time.
Every single #$%& time.

I was in that coffee shop mentally processing an interview I’d just had with an upper-middle-class church.  Ministry is hard with the well-off; they don’t think they need anything and if they do, they can get it themselves.  I was pondering the futility of pulling families with teenagers into a relationship they didn’t think they needed.  I was wondering if ministry was all about beating your head against a series of walls, wondering if this was something I should jump into all over again.  Then I met someone who was pushed out of a relationship she knew she needed.  And I was able to provide the words of support and comfort her congregation wouldn’t.

She needed to talk to me.  And I needed to talk to her.  After we prayed together, I told her I believe God sends you people when you need them. 

Every time.
Every single time.
Every single #$%& time.

[Image is “Girl in Despair” by Alyssa L. Miller on Flickr. (CC BY 2.0).]
[She is not the woman I spoke to.]