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.]

The Feral Deacon, Part 2 – What not to say

conversation

Everyone means well. Everyone wants to make someone feel better. Everyone wants to say the right thing to bring some cheer. But we all know there are times when your words don’t deliver, even though your heart is in the right place.

I have seminary friends who have gone through a lot, enough to make me think I’ve lived a sheltered life. They’ve told me never to say, “God never gives you more than you can handle.” Saying “God has a plan” brings little comfort to families grieving a loss; it makes God sound less . . .  godly.

Here’s one more phrase to avoid: God has a job waiting for you. Just don’t say it. Where is this job? How did you hear about it? Why isn’t God telling me? Will this place let me bring my dog to work? (And please don’t tell an unmarried person that God has a spouse waiting for them.)

I thought God did well with my previous job. The church took a chance on a 55-year-old rookie youth director, I could preach now and then, and it was in the community where I lived. Either God has greater plans than these (which I hope is true) or you’re repeating poorly thought out theology. Either way, it lands with a thud.

Losing a job is a grieving process, not as intense as losing a loved one, but it is a significant loss and it is painful. (So don’t say, “God has a plan,” either.) You are allowed to talk about it. You’re not going to suddenly remind me I’m unemployed.

So what should you say? If you truly believe God has a job for me, maybe you’re the one God is working through to get me that job. The following would help:

What are you working on? I like to try out my ideas before acting and I’d appreciate your thoughts. I’m getting plenty of positive and negative feedback in the job search, your comments will not send me over the edge.

If you have time – and your greatest gift to another is your time – help popcorn some ideas. Two heads are better than one and I’ve gotten some great ideas talking to others. You could bring a brand-new perspective to things.

Can I make an introduction for you? This is the best thing you could possibly do. I had a friend who suggested I talk to someone, then called that person and told her to expect my call. Your help can build connections in what can feel like a very disconnected time.

What we’re looking for is a next step, a path we haven’t tried, a person we haven’t met, an option we hadn’t considered, something that opens a door. It’s OK if you can’t provide that. If you have no idea what else to say, say this: I honestly want to know – how are you doing?

Connecting is caring.  These are the words that deliver.  If you can think of more good words, add them to the comments below.

The Feral Deacon, Part 1–The Wilderness

wilderness small

I cleaned out my office and turned in all my keys, except for the front door key, because Judy wouldn’t take it.  The day before was my last work day, my last youth event.  I’ve been released back into the wild, into the wilderness – a feral deacon.

It’s not that I was bad, although I could have been better.  It’s not that the congregation was bad, although they could have been better, too.  We just didn’t mesh and staff is the only place to make a change.

I’m not supposed to be wondering what to do next, I’m supposed to be faithful to a call.  I considered this my calling, it was what I told everyone who asked, what I told all the review boards on the path to ordination.  God’s supposed to have this plan for me to follow.  So . . . what’s next?  I’m ready to “fail forward,” but I don’t know where forward is.

Here’s what I’m learning about the wilderness:

It’s the place where you grieve.  During those hard days and hard weeks in youth ministry, I believed there would come That Moment when everything would come together and I’d look back on these times as growing pains.  But I’m not going to get That Moment and that hurts.  It takes time and distance to move forward.

It’s the place where you’re sent.  Some go voluntarily, but most of us are sent.  Even Jesus was sent (Matthew 4:1, Mark 1:12, Luke 4:1).  The Israelites were supposed to be passing through, but stayed there 40 years because they weren’t ready to claim the Promised Land.

It’s the place where you wait.  You wait in the wilderness, but you have to work hard while you wait.  Not having options means you have thousands of options.  In between sending out resumes and prepping for interviews, I’ve been:

  • Going to as many different worship services as I can, including outside my denomination.  Especially outside my denomination.
  • Calling everyone I know for coffee or lunch
  • Learning about the nonprofits serving my city and region
  • Volunteering at a homeless shelter and a youth ministry
  • Very tired of hearing how God closes doors and opens windows.  (Just don’t say it to anyone ever again.  Ever.)
  • Rebooting this blog

I explained my situation to someone last week who told me, “That happens a lot.”  I’m not out here alone.  Let me know if you’re one of those people.  Maybe our time in the wilderness is another growing pain on the way to That Moment, whatever it is.

(Image is “Miscanti Lagoon – San Pedro de Atacama, Chile” by “Jim Trodel” on FlickrCC BY-SA 2.0.  I don’t recommend swimming there.)

Random Thursday for January 31, 2019

Unrelated items, in no particular order


I didn’t realize Charlie Cox, who plays (played) Daredevil on Netflix, was British.  Here’s other performers who had me fooled:

  • Rachel Taylor, who plays Trish on Jessica Jones, is Australian.
  • So is Eka Darville, who plays Malcom on the same show.
  • Yvonne Strahovski, Serena Joy on The Handmaid’s Tale, is also Australian.
  • Max Minghella, who plays Nick on the same show, is British.
  • So is Dominic Cooper, the title character from Preacher.
  • So is Tom Payne, who played Jesus on The Walking Dead.  I already knew about Andrew Lincoln and Lennie James.

Joseph Fiennes on The Handmaid’s Tale is also British, but I remember him from Shakespeare in Love, so he didn’t have me fooled.  I must find an American actor or actress I thought was British.


I’ve learned about the “deepity.”  According to Daniel Dennett:

A deepity is a proposition that seems to be profound because it is actually logically ill-formed.  It has (at least) two readings and balances precariously between them.  On one reading it is true but trivial.  And on another reading it is false, but would be earth-shattering if true.

Examples include:

If this has you interested, check out this article, that unpacks some deepities for you:  https://quillette.com/2018/10/16/deepities-and-the-politics-of-pseudo-profundity/


New York Magazine published an article on the top 100 pens.  I don’t know which is worse:

  • I’m proud that I use the #1 pen, the Baron Fig Squire. I even wrote the draft for this blog with it.  Worth the money.
  • Multiple Facebook friends shared the article, what does that say about us?
  • My actual favorite pen, the Lamy Safari fountain pen, is #62.  No one will ever steal this pen.

 

Everyone will be the antichrist for 15 minutes

antichrist history and destiny

Everyone will be the antichrist for 15 minutes.

A prominent feature of American evangelicalism is a theology called dispensationalism.  It was popularized by the Left Behind series and has become What the Bible Says when interpreting Revelation.  The antichrist is the beast described in Revelation 13:1-10, Satan incarnate, a ruler who will turn the world into a living hell before Christ returns to defeat him.

Nearly every pope, American president, and Russian (or Soviet) leader has been called the antichrist at least once.  Barak Obama got a lot of that.  Robert Jeffress, the senior pastor of Dallas’s First Baptist Church,  was careful not to say that Obama was the antichrist, but that he would pave the way for him, saying, “The course he is choosing to lead our nation is paving the way for the future reign of the Antichrist.” I heard another preacher give the standard dispensationalist script on the antichrist.  He said things are going to get so bad that we’ll turn over all our freedom to a dictator – the antichrist, Satan incarnate.

I don’t buy into this, but I could make a case we’re following that preacher’s timeline right now. Our current president said he’s inherited a mess and he’s the only one who can fix it. His followers seem to agree, or don’t disagree enough to speak up. He’s frustrated with the limits of presidential power. The narrative seems to fit that TV preacher’s scenario, but that preacher doesn’t think the president is the antichrist because they have the same politics. Jeffress has moved from a president paving the way to antichrist to a president as an instrument of God. He assumes everyone else will enable the antichrist, but not him. I’m not suggesting anyone is the antichrist. I am asking why a movement that preaches how Satan will emerge by way of politics is so careless with its loyalties.

We now have permission to give in to our worst selves. The president supported violence at his campaign rallies. The alt-right (and many others) interprets his weak condemnation of Charlottesville as support.  We’re free to demonize immigrants.  One of the core truths of the Christian faith is to recognize how we are our own worst enemies, how we oppose what is best for us.  The very people who should be reminding us of that are embracing it.

Maybe this is Jeffress’s 15 minutes. Not as the antichrist, but as another figure from Revelation 13, the one dispensationalists call the false prophet. According to the scenario, he’s the one who persuades us to worship the antichrist. To be clear, I don’t accept the dispensational scenario. But they do. And the way things are going, they seem to fit their own scenarios very well.

(Image is “Antichrist:  History and Destiny” by “Michael Coghlan” on FlickrCC BY-SA 2.0.  I didn’t go inside.)

Random Thursday for February 22, 2018

Unrelated comments, in no particular order.

Candlelight Vigil 4

Considering the Parkland shootings:  I’ve wondered where the expressions of sorrow are from the gun rights advocates.  Other than the usual “thoughts and prayers” from politicians, I haven’t heard anything beyond Wayne LaPierre’s opening remarks at CPAC and he mentioned it on the way to making another point.  Where is the sorrow that young people died?

In light of Billy Graham’s passing, I’m wondering why no other evangelical pastor has Graham’s standing.  It seems that more pastors should have Graham’s reputation for integrity.  Discussions abound about whether or not Graham was used by Nixon; Graham was able to emerge without a lasting stain on his reputation.  It seems so ironic to talk about that now, in light of the relationship between evangelicalism and today’s president.

(Image is “Candlelight Vigil 4” by “Ben Townsend” on FlickrCC-BY-2.0.  Pray for Parkland.)

Reflections on Youth Ministry: Math

What Math looks like

We didn’t teach our kids math. We wanted them to make up their own minds about it. Knowledge is such a personal thing it seemed unfair for us to impose our perspective on our children. Truth is so relative. My generation was raised with math – our parents didn’t give us a choice – but that was back when it was expected, whether you wanted to or not. It’s just different today.

We thought about having them take math, but one of ours wanted to be a dance team officer.  She’s a talented dancer and we want to encourage her to follow her dreams. As drill team season went on, it was harder and harder to fit math in to our schedule. Those coaches expect so much, they schedule extra practices, she also needs private dance lessons, and there are competitions that take up the weekend. We were also worried about how our kids would fit in with the other math kids. They know some of the kids in the math class, but they aren’t close friends. Once more of their friends start going to math, I’m sure they’ll want to go. We said maybe if they started going to math, their friends would join them, but they weren’t interested, and we weren’t going to fight that battle. It’s so hard to get them out of bed for math class. Besides, if the math teacher can’t make it interesting and keep my kid entertained in the process, they won’t learn math anyway. It’s really the math teacher’s job to make sure my kids can do math.

I know math is a life skill. I use it from time to time and it’s helped me through some rough spots. But math will always be there if they want to take it up when they’re older.

[Image is “What Math Looks Like?” by “Diane Horvath” on FlikrCC-BY-2.0.  I think that guy likes math.]