This is the time of year when many organizations are evaluating how things have been going this year and looking ahead to next year and the coming year. Those organizations with a good practice on this are probably actual reviewing goals for next year they're already set, and looking further ahead. At Calvary, our program ministries this year have been working to set goals, with the hope that we can truly begin to get our work in line with our mission.
The thing is this (and it is true for any organization): there are a myriad of things that could be done...but not all can be done at once. Therefore, best practices invite us to be discerning as we choose WHAT to do. Indeed, even if we could do something REALLY WELL, if it doesn't feed our vision, it ought to be laid aside.
I thought of this recently as I heard that our annual conference's communications folks won an award for an immersion series they developed. Now, we have awesome communications folks. I've had opportunity to work with them on a couple difference things, and they work hard and know what they're doing. But I am troubled about our conference's allotment of energy and resources when making disciples (or, measured more objectively, growth in membership and worship attendance) is one of the key goals and metrics we use. Can we develop great resources? Sure. Is that what we ought to be spending our time doing? I have severe reservations about that.
Walk into any Christian bookstore, and you will see a TON of resources. On pretty much anything. Are they exactly what we think churches should use? Maybe not always, but you know what, a lot of the time, they're pretty darn good. Why not spend less time developing resources that only a small portion of churches use, and more time developing a focus around a key area (hey, I'll even give it to the conference that churches need help finding these resources, even though I think it's really not that hard for pastors to do). Instead of using our conference staff to essentially rewrite materials that exist, why not invite them to be resources for churches who are using an already developed resource--like coming as a speaker to worship or a study group during that unit?
It is easy--and a dangerous trap--to get really good at doing something that at best only peripherally achieves your key goals. In fact, I think this is essentially the thing experts would say hold businesses and groups back...back from what someone like Jim Collins would call going from good to great. We have got to stop being so dang impressed with ourselves or set on doing something unique that we don't really DO much of anything all that important.
This same principle--of allotting resources to actually accomplish those things most important to you--is also something we all have to face in our personal lives. How do we decide how much money to give to our church? To other groups? How do we budget our time and resources, and what does that say about us? Do our actual lived-out priorities actually line up with the ones we tell ourselves and others we have?
Chris and I have been really thinking about this recently as we've been preparing for the arrival of our first child in a few weeks. (You can lay aside the, "you really don't know what you're getting into" speech...we've heard it, and while we are prepared for expectations to be blasted a bit, some people are just mean and try to scare new parents.) At any rate, we've looked at our plans (breastfeeding; cloth diapers--yes, I do actually have a plan, we're not just winging this, and yes, we understand this involves more laundry; and changing our schedules a bit so we can DO as much of our daughter's childcare as possible). We are fortunate to have options in these and other areas because of our jobs, and I certainly understand and appreciate that many (perhaps most people) don't have the options we have. That itself poses challenges--we have options, but it means we really have some very valid options from which to choose. Deciding how to allot resources of money, time and energy feels like some chess game (in which we expect the pieces to move a lot once she's here and to keep moving!)
But all of this really comes down to what do you want to be and do, and are you actually willing to focus on DOING those things you say are your priorities, even if you can do other things well, even really well. Chris and I were both raised by (at the time) stay at home moms. We both like the idea of our child having a parent at home with them, but we are both very committed to our ministries (both our own and each others') and we believe our vocations are an important part of who we are as a family. Balancing these priorities will not be easy, and will force us to make changes to our routine to try to find some balance (like working from home some, taking our daughter to work some, and maybe seeing each other a bit less). But it does leave room for maintaining even some of those--for example, we've decided it's important to keep taking the same day off together (during retreat season that's Monday, generally) and we'd rather pay for childcare on another day so we can do that.
Setting goals and examining priorities is not complicated stuff...the challenge is actually living them out. And that is something we all continue to struggle with as individuals, businesses, churches and organizations.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
My Call to Ministry
So for some reason I think I've actually blogged about this at some point, but since a quick glance at my blog titles doesn't indicate to me when I might have done so, below is my response to an oft-asked question...how did you hear a call to ministry? In fact, the account below is what I wrote today when asked by someone entering the lay speaker process...apparently there are several questions they have to ask a pastor or two, and this is one of them (I've been asked the same by lay-speakers-in-training before).
Let me first say that as a firm believer in the priesthood of all believers, I think we are all called to ministry. So really, this is my answer to the question, "What on earth gave you the idea to be a United Methodist pastor?" I've had to relate this many different times, and I tell it in somewhat different ways each time, but here is basically the story...
I received my call to ministry while a junior and senior in high school. Prior to that, and really, even at the time, I had been very active in student government and local government. I served as a student member on the Baltimore City School Board, and an officer in the Baltimore City Student Government association, as well as a legislative coordinator for the MD state student government (following and testifying at state hearings related to public education). I was one of two finalists elected as nominee to the Governor for student member on the state school board—that this happened at a time when there was great discord between the state schools folks and the Baltimore City Schools folks didn’t help my chances, and at any rate, the other candidate was chosen. I was also involved in various local campaigns.
About this time, not only was I experiencing some challenges in my roles in government (I also served as student body president at my high school) but I was realizing that politics did not bring out the best in me. I don’t mean that it is that way for everyone, but the whole system of it can just take you over, and I did not like who it was making me be, and the more I thought about it, and the more politicians I was around, the more disillusioned I became. About this time, I started asking myself if this was really what I wanted to spend my life doing—knowing that if I do anything I do it full bore, at the end of my life, would this be (and would it make me) something I was content with, even proud of. The more I thought of it, the more I had to admit that my answer was no.
Meanwhile, I was continuing to serve in leadership at my church. My father served as pastor at Brooklyn United Methodist Church (South Baltimore), and I, by that time, was the teacher for the 3-5 Sunday School class (much to my sister’s frustration!). I was involved in many different ways at church, and had always been a student of my father’s ministry, from which I had originally taken cues for my political leadership opportunities. I would also, from time to time, serve as the teacher for the older adults Sunday School class—they had a rotating schedule of teachers. One day, after teaching that class (God only knows what possessed them to invite a high school junior to teach them! What a gift!) one of the older women of the church, knowing my political involvement, said, “It’s such a shame you’re not going to be a pastor like your father.”
Such an option had honestly never occurred to me. Not for any good reason, mind you, other than that since my father had always been my pastor (and the one time he’d served on a church staff his senior pastor was a man) I had never actually SEEN a female pastor. I knew female pastors, I just hadn’t ever experienced one as a pastor. This is not at all due to any prejudices on my family’s part, indeed, my father and grandfather have long been (long before I ever heard a call to ministry) ardent supporters of women in ministry. Having come out of the United Brethren Church, my grandfather is very proud of that church’s ordination of women having begun in 1889 (it stopped a bit later after their merge with the Evangelical Assn, but they always were a old fashioned bunch—which is saying something coming from an UB!). In fact, I have heard from several older clergywomen in our annual conference who not only appreciated having my grandfather as DS, having found him supportive, but at least one clergywoman who actually transferred TO THIS CONFERENCE because of my grandfather’s support and encouragement. My father likewise has long been supportive of women in ministry. I have thus been quite blessed that though I had never thought of being a pastor, there was no gender-bias in my family nor in my church at that time. It was only later that I came to realize how remarkable it was to receive such words of support from that elderly woman—she too had never experienced a woman as pastor, but I truly believe it was through her that God called me.
After that comment from that women, I began to think and pray about the call. I shared it with my parents. My father took to giving me opportunities to “try out” ministry, including the gift of being able to preach (pastors are often very stingy with their pulpits, but Dad let me preach a couple times a year at least, and the congregation was gracious and constructive in their reception and feedback). My mother, meanwhile, was concerned that I not simply choose to do something my father was doing (for various reasons more complicated than can be described briefly, and owing in large part to the dynamics of our family at that time) and she asked that I wait a year before beginning the candidacy process. I did so, and then officially began the process my senior year in high school. In the end, that year wait was a very good thing, because it not only allowed me to reflect more, but also allowed me to gain more input from others (like my high school principal) and the constant positive responses I received were vital, I think, to keeping me going in the years ahead.
So, I would say I heard my call my junior year in high school, began to embrace it my senior year, then in college, under the wonderful tutelage of Dr. Charles (Buz) Myers and his ability to help me think through the Biblical passages about women in church leadership (it was important to me that I wasn’t disregarding parts of scripture I didn’t like, but he was able to help me place those passages in context and help me understand God’s call to ministry in women’s lives) I was able, I think, to finally fully embrace my call. I graduated from Gettysburg College with a double-major in history and religion (I may have had some minors, I don’t remember) and then went straight to Duke Divinity School (the seminary my father attended, which was nice, but moreso they offered me a full scholarship which made it an easy call!). Duke was a perfect fit for me, though seminary is, I think, always quite a growing experienced and I certainly experienced some growing pains. I was a certified candidate for ministry by the time I graduated from college, and was commissioned the year I graduated from Duke, and ordained after the requisite three year probationary period (required by our conference at the time).
People often ask me if I was called to ministry because my father, grandfather and great-grandfather were (plus I’ve got a great-great-great grandfather who was a licensed Methodist preacher—my great-great grandfather was a founding member of Grace UB (now UMC) in Hagerstown). In a lot of ways, as I mentioned, that actually was a hindrance at first. But getting past that, it certainly was a blessing to have such a legacy. At a time when many young people can’t really imagine what life as a pastor would be like, I never had illusions about what lie ahead, and the option of being a pastor was always quite real (as in I could imagine what it would be like, it wasn’t very distant). I was also able to learn a great deal from my father and grandfather that allowed me to start the candidacy process ahead of the game than others in terms of my understanding of it and my comfort level with the people and pastors I can in contact with during the process. Along with that, however, comes not only the good but also the bad. Being the child of someone in the same industry (because I suspect this is the same in a lot of venues) also means you bear the hard feelings and tensions of your forbearers. So it can never be assumed to be a universally good thing, but I have been very blessed by the legacy of my father, grandfather and great-grandfather.
Let me first say that as a firm believer in the priesthood of all believers, I think we are all called to ministry. So really, this is my answer to the question, "What on earth gave you the idea to be a United Methodist pastor?" I've had to relate this many different times, and I tell it in somewhat different ways each time, but here is basically the story...
I received my call to ministry while a junior and senior in high school. Prior to that, and really, even at the time, I had been very active in student government and local government. I served as a student member on the Baltimore City School Board, and an officer in the Baltimore City Student Government association, as well as a legislative coordinator for the MD state student government (following and testifying at state hearings related to public education). I was one of two finalists elected as nominee to the Governor for student member on the state school board—that this happened at a time when there was great discord between the state schools folks and the Baltimore City Schools folks didn’t help my chances, and at any rate, the other candidate was chosen. I was also involved in various local campaigns.
About this time, not only was I experiencing some challenges in my roles in government (I also served as student body president at my high school) but I was realizing that politics did not bring out the best in me. I don’t mean that it is that way for everyone, but the whole system of it can just take you over, and I did not like who it was making me be, and the more I thought about it, and the more politicians I was around, the more disillusioned I became. About this time, I started asking myself if this was really what I wanted to spend my life doing—knowing that if I do anything I do it full bore, at the end of my life, would this be (and would it make me) something I was content with, even proud of. The more I thought of it, the more I had to admit that my answer was no.
Meanwhile, I was continuing to serve in leadership at my church. My father served as pastor at Brooklyn United Methodist Church (South Baltimore), and I, by that time, was the teacher for the 3-5 Sunday School class (much to my sister’s frustration!). I was involved in many different ways at church, and had always been a student of my father’s ministry, from which I had originally taken cues for my political leadership opportunities. I would also, from time to time, serve as the teacher for the older adults Sunday School class—they had a rotating schedule of teachers. One day, after teaching that class (God only knows what possessed them to invite a high school junior to teach them! What a gift!) one of the older women of the church, knowing my political involvement, said, “It’s such a shame you’re not going to be a pastor like your father.”
Such an option had honestly never occurred to me. Not for any good reason, mind you, other than that since my father had always been my pastor (and the one time he’d served on a church staff his senior pastor was a man) I had never actually SEEN a female pastor. I knew female pastors, I just hadn’t ever experienced one as a pastor. This is not at all due to any prejudices on my family’s part, indeed, my father and grandfather have long been (long before I ever heard a call to ministry) ardent supporters of women in ministry. Having come out of the United Brethren Church, my grandfather is very proud of that church’s ordination of women having begun in 1889 (it stopped a bit later after their merge with the Evangelical Assn, but they always were a old fashioned bunch—which is saying something coming from an UB!). In fact, I have heard from several older clergywomen in our annual conference who not only appreciated having my grandfather as DS, having found him supportive, but at least one clergywoman who actually transferred TO THIS CONFERENCE because of my grandfather’s support and encouragement. My father likewise has long been supportive of women in ministry. I have thus been quite blessed that though I had never thought of being a pastor, there was no gender-bias in my family nor in my church at that time. It was only later that I came to realize how remarkable it was to receive such words of support from that elderly woman—she too had never experienced a woman as pastor, but I truly believe it was through her that God called me.
After that comment from that women, I began to think and pray about the call. I shared it with my parents. My father took to giving me opportunities to “try out” ministry, including the gift of being able to preach (pastors are often very stingy with their pulpits, but Dad let me preach a couple times a year at least, and the congregation was gracious and constructive in their reception and feedback). My mother, meanwhile, was concerned that I not simply choose to do something my father was doing (for various reasons more complicated than can be described briefly, and owing in large part to the dynamics of our family at that time) and she asked that I wait a year before beginning the candidacy process. I did so, and then officially began the process my senior year in high school. In the end, that year wait was a very good thing, because it not only allowed me to reflect more, but also allowed me to gain more input from others (like my high school principal) and the constant positive responses I received were vital, I think, to keeping me going in the years ahead.
So, I would say I heard my call my junior year in high school, began to embrace it my senior year, then in college, under the wonderful tutelage of Dr. Charles (Buz) Myers and his ability to help me think through the Biblical passages about women in church leadership (it was important to me that I wasn’t disregarding parts of scripture I didn’t like, but he was able to help me place those passages in context and help me understand God’s call to ministry in women’s lives) I was able, I think, to finally fully embrace my call. I graduated from Gettysburg College with a double-major in history and religion (I may have had some minors, I don’t remember) and then went straight to Duke Divinity School (the seminary my father attended, which was nice, but moreso they offered me a full scholarship which made it an easy call!). Duke was a perfect fit for me, though seminary is, I think, always quite a growing experienced and I certainly experienced some growing pains. I was a certified candidate for ministry by the time I graduated from college, and was commissioned the year I graduated from Duke, and ordained after the requisite three year probationary period (required by our conference at the time).
People often ask me if I was called to ministry because my father, grandfather and great-grandfather were (plus I’ve got a great-great-great grandfather who was a licensed Methodist preacher—my great-great grandfather was a founding member of Grace UB (now UMC) in Hagerstown). In a lot of ways, as I mentioned, that actually was a hindrance at first. But getting past that, it certainly was a blessing to have such a legacy. At a time when many young people can’t really imagine what life as a pastor would be like, I never had illusions about what lie ahead, and the option of being a pastor was always quite real (as in I could imagine what it would be like, it wasn’t very distant). I was also able to learn a great deal from my father and grandfather that allowed me to start the candidacy process ahead of the game than others in terms of my understanding of it and my comfort level with the people and pastors I can in contact with during the process. Along with that, however, comes not only the good but also the bad. Being the child of someone in the same industry (because I suspect this is the same in a lot of venues) also means you bear the hard feelings and tensions of your forbearers. So it can never be assumed to be a universally good thing, but I have been very blessed by the legacy of my father, grandfather and great-grandfather.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Church Leadership
You can't turn on the news lately without seeing some latest story on Christian leadership--whether specifically in a church (Bishop Eddie Long) or beyond (the Roman Catholic Church's handling of something, or the Pope's recent visit to England). As a pastor, I'm also deep into the topic of Christian leadership as I live out my own call, and when I interact with my colleagues in ministry.
In the wake of the Eddie Long allegations, I returned to a book I'd read many years ago, Overcoming the Dark Side of Leadership. A short trip to Amazon.com revealed a revised edition has since come out, and thanks to the fact that I can order things a bit too easily on Amazon with an iPhone now, a copy of it now sits on my coffee table (in my defense, I'm not sure where my old copy is, so it's not like I have two now...though I wouldn't be opposed to that...) :-)
On of the major premises of the book is that the same qualities that raise a person to success are the same ones which, left unchecked, which can spell their downfall. And often in equal proportions. This premise isn't new to us, if only because popular discourse has zeroed in of this concept in the years since the book was first published. And yet, our church leaders remain remarkably unaffected by the lessons we have learned along these lines.
I was fortunate in my own ministry to have worked with two pastors during seminary (each during my two required field education placements) whose own lives and examples taught me a great deal about how I wanted to live my life--not just be a pastor, but be a person. On of those pastors is about as different personality-wise from me as is possible. Laid-back, a fount of soothing words and pastoral presence, he routinely cared for himself in the same way he so deftly cared for others. When he was working, he poured himself into it. When he had time off, he did so with the same commitment and ease. All of that, I say, as it seemed to me, of course.
My other supervising pastor had, it seemed to both of us, a quite similar personality to me. Driven, prone to keep at a project till completion, he however had learned through some challenging experiences of his own that you can only drive yourself at a break-neck pace for so long before you crash. His insight and experience he freely shared, and it helped me understand that I needed to reign in my own first-child tendencies before they did me in.
Both men graciously taught me that while it is important to be who God has created me to be, and while I cannot change my personality (and why would I want to, especially the very things that are the basis for any success?), I must manage those same qualities to try to keep them from overgrowing my life--like the kudzu that has overtaken much of the North Carolina roadsides.
That said, I am nowhere near where I'd like to be. My own best habits still don't all come naturally to me, and I struggle (like most people) to balance the various demands upon my time (including my own expectations). As my pregnancy has progressed, it's been interesting to find ways to lighten up on my own expectations for what I will be getting done, since my midwife basically tells me I need to start acting like the 8-month pregnant woman that I am! Now lest you think I'm working myself into an early grave, I am not. Nor am I putting my child at risk. Those aren't the stakes we're talking about. Trust me, if things were bad, I wouldn't blog about them. And nothing frustrates me more than someone simply saying, "Oh, you need to take it easy." Such a line simply denies that each of us are different and the ways we balance our lives are also different.And changing our habits is not easy.
So I am still learning. I am certain I am doing better, and there's nothing like awaiting a baby (and knowing that the chance to slow down will be gone after that!) to actually make you slow down.
We all have our dark sides. They are, indeed, often the same things that make us who we are at our best moments. At our worst moments, they are the strongest qualities of us unchecked. For some it make be the desire to work hard and long (at its worst this destroys other areas of our lives). For others, it may be the ability to take time off (which can devolve into laziness if unchecked). For some it is the ability to offer advice (which in its worst incarnation becomes a patronizing commitment to tell others how to live their lives). For others still, it may be their charisma (which can turn into a self-serving hunger that is fed in unhealthy ways). On and on the list goes.
As Christian leaders, indeed, as Christians, our first focus ought always to be on ourselves, always recognizing our own strengths and weaknesses, and particularly how our dark sides are likely to develop. We must also admit that we are not always (sometimes even usually) the best set of eyes looking at ourselves, and find people we trust to hold us accountable--NOTE: don't ever offer yourself as someone else's source of accountability. Such condescension will nearly always be unwelcome. But when we find those people in our lives who truly know us, not the snippets we share with the world, we can indeed find deep friendships that can help us grow in our strengths without letting those same strengths be the weights that eventually drag us down.
In the wake of the Eddie Long allegations, I returned to a book I'd read many years ago, Overcoming the Dark Side of Leadership. A short trip to Amazon.com revealed a revised edition has since come out, and thanks to the fact that I can order things a bit too easily on Amazon with an iPhone now, a copy of it now sits on my coffee table (in my defense, I'm not sure where my old copy is, so it's not like I have two now...though I wouldn't be opposed to that...) :-)
On of the major premises of the book is that the same qualities that raise a person to success are the same ones which, left unchecked, which can spell their downfall. And often in equal proportions. This premise isn't new to us, if only because popular discourse has zeroed in of this concept in the years since the book was first published. And yet, our church leaders remain remarkably unaffected by the lessons we have learned along these lines.
I was fortunate in my own ministry to have worked with two pastors during seminary (each during my two required field education placements) whose own lives and examples taught me a great deal about how I wanted to live my life--not just be a pastor, but be a person. On of those pastors is about as different personality-wise from me as is possible. Laid-back, a fount of soothing words and pastoral presence, he routinely cared for himself in the same way he so deftly cared for others. When he was working, he poured himself into it. When he had time off, he did so with the same commitment and ease. All of that, I say, as it seemed to me, of course.
My other supervising pastor had, it seemed to both of us, a quite similar personality to me. Driven, prone to keep at a project till completion, he however had learned through some challenging experiences of his own that you can only drive yourself at a break-neck pace for so long before you crash. His insight and experience he freely shared, and it helped me understand that I needed to reign in my own first-child tendencies before they did me in.
Both men graciously taught me that while it is important to be who God has created me to be, and while I cannot change my personality (and why would I want to, especially the very things that are the basis for any success?), I must manage those same qualities to try to keep them from overgrowing my life--like the kudzu that has overtaken much of the North Carolina roadsides.
That said, I am nowhere near where I'd like to be. My own best habits still don't all come naturally to me, and I struggle (like most people) to balance the various demands upon my time (including my own expectations). As my pregnancy has progressed, it's been interesting to find ways to lighten up on my own expectations for what I will be getting done, since my midwife basically tells me I need to start acting like the 8-month pregnant woman that I am! Now lest you think I'm working myself into an early grave, I am not. Nor am I putting my child at risk. Those aren't the stakes we're talking about. Trust me, if things were bad, I wouldn't blog about them. And nothing frustrates me more than someone simply saying, "Oh, you need to take it easy." Such a line simply denies that each of us are different and the ways we balance our lives are also different.And changing our habits is not easy.
So I am still learning. I am certain I am doing better, and there's nothing like awaiting a baby (and knowing that the chance to slow down will be gone after that!) to actually make you slow down.
We all have our dark sides. They are, indeed, often the same things that make us who we are at our best moments. At our worst moments, they are the strongest qualities of us unchecked. For some it make be the desire to work hard and long (at its worst this destroys other areas of our lives). For others, it may be the ability to take time off (which can devolve into laziness if unchecked). For some it is the ability to offer advice (which in its worst incarnation becomes a patronizing commitment to tell others how to live their lives). For others still, it may be their charisma (which can turn into a self-serving hunger that is fed in unhealthy ways). On and on the list goes.
As Christian leaders, indeed, as Christians, our first focus ought always to be on ourselves, always recognizing our own strengths and weaknesses, and particularly how our dark sides are likely to develop. We must also admit that we are not always (sometimes even usually) the best set of eyes looking at ourselves, and find people we trust to hold us accountable--NOTE: don't ever offer yourself as someone else's source of accountability. Such condescension will nearly always be unwelcome. But when we find those people in our lives who truly know us, not the snippets we share with the world, we can indeed find deep friendships that can help us grow in our strengths without letting those same strengths be the weights that eventually drag us down.
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