It's a coaching problem…

1389667_71630522I was recently talking with a colleague about the fear/frustration that church members think we, as the pastors and staff, are the ones who do ministry.

Obviously, since we are the ones getting the paycheck, we should be the ones out making new disciples and teaching and being prophetic and visiting the sick and all of those other things churches do.

In that scenario, it is the congregation’s job to sit back, complain if something isn’t happening (like growth), and financially support the work.

 

Our job, however, is not to do the work, but to call and equip the laity (the people) to share in the work.

 

Using a sports analogy, I guess you could say we are a lot more like coaches than players.  We are paid to look at the gifts and talents of our players, to train them, to condition them, to challenge them to grow, but they are the ones who play the game.

We can stand on the sidelines and encourage. We can call timeout and give advice and lay out a new strategy (pastoral care).  Coaches review game films and get the team ready for the opponent (bible study). We can hold practices where the players learn the essential elements of the game.Worship is such a time where we learn to pass the peace, confessing and forgiving, and hear a pep talk about how to play.

What I love about this analogy is that most coaches have a season of recruitment where they go out and build relationships with people and build a team.  So, evangelism and community engagement are an important part of our job.

But then the church has to go out there and play.  Out to their schools and homes and workplaces and golf courses and hospitals and homeless shelters.

 

 

As a sports fan in the Hawkeye State, there is a lot of armchair coaching that goes on in my house.

Some days are better than others.

During football season, we’d cry out, “put Sunshine in!”

Watching ISU miss free throws makes you want to pull out your hair.

I’m not even going to discuss the Hawkeye loss last night.  I can’t even….

But at some point, you have to stop looking at the players, and you have to ask what is going on with the coaching.

 

The same can be asked of the church.

When we see a church declining or in financial trouble or stagnant, we have to ask what is happening with the coaching.

 

Part of the problem is that as pastors, we forget we are supposed to be coaches.

We get bogged down in meetings and administration and in the pressure to go out there and bring people into the church and don’t always make time for one-on-one coaching sessions.

We sometimes worry about how the music or sermon will be perceived, rather than how it will shape and form the congregation.

It seems to be easier to make the visits to the sick and home bound than to train up the laity to care for one another as an act of Christian love (and to train them to receive care from one another).

And sometimes, we simply assume the “team” is playing fine so we fail to change the line-up. Maybe that’s the hardest one. With good and faithful people serving in a particular ministry area, we are afraid to inject new leadership, or worry more about how someone will feel if they are benched… even if it is better for the mission and work of our church.

And then, in some churches, we find that we are coaches who don’t have a team in the church, but a booster club. We have people who think they are fans rather than the starting line. And the coaching mistake is that we let it happen or continue to happen.

 

 

Maybe its time to run some laps and do wind sprints and shoot a thousand free-throws.

Maybe what we need is a good hard season of practice.

 

 

 

Christmas, The Grinch, and a Heart

My step-mother-in-law, Sue, is a nurse.  Not a floor nurse, but someone who works with cardiac cases to determine and support best practices for the hospital… if I’m explaining that right.

In any case, she noticed when her husband was starting to get pale while working out.  She pushed him to get a stress test.  And her colleagues saw that the test was abnormal and scheduled the heart cath on Thursday morning that led to an urgent need for open heart surgery.

Bill hasn’t had any symptoms of heart disease that he (and we) weren’t explaining away.  He didn’t have a heart attack or even a severe episode of anything that would have pushed him to get the tests done. As I talked with him on Friday, he was fully aware that either of the two 90% blockages could have closed at anytime and he would have been gone.

Today, he is on the other side of a triple bypass, he is doing excellent, and everything went as good as expected.

 

It is weird to be on the family side of a hospital visit when I have been there so many times as a pastor and as a chaplain in Clinical Pastoral Education.  I know the right things to say, but also the things not to say… the times to just keep my mouth shut.  I’m okay with simply being there, not saying anything, and know that presence is a gift.

And yet, I also have a very different relationship with these guys.  We share meals. We exchange gifts. We boat on the weekends in the summer and play cards and laugh and drink together and make inappropriate jokes.  I’m rarely wearing my “pastor hat” with the family… I can be myself.  Figuring out how to be in a familiar place with very familiar people and in a very different role was hard.  I brought along a deck of cards, stuffed some snacks in my bag, and prepared to settle in and “be present” for the long haul.  It was easy before surgery while we waited.  Bill kicked my butt in cribbage and I made sure Sue got some decent food and I felt like I could wear both my daughter-in-law hat and pastor hat at the same time.

But last night in the ICU, with my husband and brother-in-law, we were all in a different place.  It is hard seeing someone you love in pain… even if we knew it was healing pain. We started trying to crack the jokes and little playful verbal jabs we are used to and Bill tried to send them back in return… but it quickly stopped.  It wasn’t that we felt awkward – it was that the laughing brought pain, so the very thing we knew how to do, the way that we as kids (and daughter-in-law) knew how to relate, was physically painful.  So we stood there, by the bed, talking quietly, listening to Bill’s gruff voice (from the breathing tube), and simply being present…

 

Grinchsmall%20heartA week or two ago, I shared in worship at the Conference Center and our preacher reminded us the story of the Grinch who stole Christmas.  The grinch’s heart was two times to small.  And he didn’t want Christmas to happen at all.  Everything he could think of, he did, to ruin that day.  But what the grinch didn’t realize is that it’s not the glitter and presents and food that makes Christmas what it is – it is simply the spirit of the people.

In many ways, this is a really awful time of year for this to have happened.  One family member joked in response “does this mean Bill’s not bringing the turkey for our Christmas Day meal?”  My neice thinks it is just so sad that “Bumpa” will be in the hospital on Christmas Day.  And even at the hospital, you can see how the surgeries slow down and the beds empty because people do not way to be away from their families if they don’t have to for Christmas.  And it kind of feels like the Grinch stole Christmas.

But on the other hand, we can only be grateful.  Grateful he has good care.  Grateful they caught it in time.  Grateful that we can still spend time with one another and especially with him.

Instead of stressing about who is bringing what to the table and if we got enough gifts or the right gifts, Christmas will be different for all of us this year. The priorities change.  We are growing as people and in relationship to one another. And maybe like the Grinch, all of our hearts will be bigger and better this year.

Especially Bill’s.

Thank God.

Assumptions

I remember vividly a leadership event when I was in middle school. Well, I vividly remember two things about it.  First – we were at Kirkwood Community College and we got to eat in their awesome cafeteria and drink Clearly Canadian sparkling water.  For some reason, that was a big deal 😉  Second, there was a message that stuck with me.  It was about assumptions and our leader told us that when you assume, you make an “ass” out of “u” and “me.”

The book of James has an awful lot to say about when we open our mouths and what we choose to let slip out of it.  And as I have been listening this week, I have realized that assumptions do just as much damage as a hurtful word. 

When we make an assumption, we have spoken without all of the facts.  And that means that we have not taken the time to truly listen to another person.  We have not spent the time with them and asked questions about them or the situation.  We have placed ourselves in a position where we believe we have all the information we need… a position of arrogance and, likewise, judgment that the other person or situation is not worthy of investigation and time.

When we make an assumption, we have allowed our wants and desires and impulses to rule the conversation without taking the time to pray and seek God’s counsel.  We react with positive or negative gut reactions, rather than looking beyond ourselves to a larger context and environment.  When we make an assumption, we have not done the difficult work of weighing how a person or situation will impact not only a local climate, but also a global climate or the Kingdom of God.

I write all of this, because these past two weeks have been awash in assumptions.  I confess that I have made assumptions about how others would react to news of my position that did not always place me in a position to respond pastorally.  There have been assumptions made at various levels of the connection about timing, ease of transition, and the rippling impact of change. But others have also made assumptions about what I will or won’t be doing, the process of how the position came to be and how/why I was asked, and what the impact on the church will be.

Assumptions hurt.  There has been damage along the way and there are misconceptions to clear up and healing that needs to happen… and it won’t be immediate. The truth is, the answers to some of those questions are still unclear.  Other assumptions might have a foothold in reality, but either the assumptions don’t have the whole story or stretch something out of proportion.

Today, I begin my training for my work with Imagine No Malaria.  From what I know already, the bulk of my work will be communicating the importance of the mission, training and empowering and developing lay and clergy across the state to embrace the mission and to give generously, but above all, telling the good news that lives are being saved and that we are doing God’s work. I will travel, have a lot of one-on-one meetings, and spend a good chunk of time with databases and reporting.  Some of those things might themselves be assumptions.  I am trying to let go of those ideas I hold in my mind so that I can be open and learn as much as possible about what my life will look like over the next nine months. 

And I want to invite you, when I get back, to ask me lots of questions.  Open your mind and let us explore together with God what is in store for all of us. 

best customer service ever…

For the Iowa Annual Conference this year, our conference artist created a gallery in our meeting space.  It housed a collection of works from various people and each piece connected with our theme of Radical Hospitality with Justice.

The room itself was a conversation space.  Chairs arranged for discussion, room to move, room to reflect, post-its on the wall to share thoughts.  The art grew and expanded as we interacted with it.

But our artist, Ted Lyndon Hatten, wanted it to move beyond that room.  So we were provided with nametags that indicated we wanted to continue talking about an issue.

And he asked if I would help the conversations continue via social media.

Of course, I jumped at the opportunity.  And the first place I looked was twubs.com

You see, Twubs takes conversations that are happening on twitter and brings them all to one place.  By using a hashtag, you can make a page, a bulletin board, embeddable widgets… it is a fantastic way to gather together the various thoughts.  The best part is that it also then can live stream those tweets for display on something like the HUGE screens we use for worship.

Its a great idea… but due to my experimentation, I somehow messed up my initial twub.  And linked to the wrong account. And then changed the hashtag.  In about 25 minutes, what I wanted to create was now in three different twubs and I couldn’t figure out how to change/merge/edit any of them.

Problem, right?

I tweeted in frustration – someone who has used these twubs before… HELP!

And five minutes later, I had a phone call.

It was the guy who created Twubs.com.  He called me, on my phone, and asked how he could help.  He quickly fixed the back end issue, merged my accounts, closed the one I didn’t want, and it was exactly how I needed it… in less that two minutes.

I was having an awful experience with the site and probably never would have turned to the media again.  But because of that personal, helpful, compassionate response, I would recommend it to anyone in a heartbeat.

I had a similar experience with our local McDonald’s.  After getting my food, it was cold, sloppy (who leaves the cheese off of a double cheeseburger?!), and the workers were rude.  So I complained via their online comment form and got a personal letter of apology, gift cards, coupons for free samples come every couple of months, and they have worked their butts off to keep me as a customer. It worked.

In this world, negative feedback can destroy a company.  All it takes is one person having a bad experience and suddenly that comment is all over facebook, twitter, angie’s list, you name it. Reviews make or break someone’s future usage and purchases. But when you shower someone with service, quick responses, and personal care, suddenly a negative experience can turn into a fantastic walking advertisement.

Having that amazing experience with twubs made me think long and hard about life in the church.

As a pastor, I am glad that people don’t run home and write on facebook or on twitter “Wow, I had a really bad experience at church today!”  Because that is AWFUL press and if someone made those kinds of comments, you probably wouldn’t ever see them again.

On the other hand, most people don’t give any feedback.  They just stop going to church.  As a pastor or a visitation minister you don’t know what the problem is, and so it is hard to be quick to respond.  If someone actually made a post like the one above, I would be able to ask what happened, I would be able to clear up questions.  But when you don’t know, you can’t respond.

There is a gray line that I face in ministry between being pushy and being pastoral.  When I notice that someone hasn’t been in worship for a while, my first instinct is to send a little note, telling them we miss them.  But if a response isn’t heard, do you make a phone call? Do you knock on the door?  Do you guilt someone into coming back?

In these customer experiences with twubs.com and McDonald’s, I think the message is to kill them with kindness.  Be available.  Be personal.  Let them know they are loved and precious to your ministry.  And don’t forget them… even if they don’t respond right away.  I am always impressed that I keep getting coupons for McDonald’s.  I know that I was probably just added to some mailing list of disgruntled customers, but when those coupons arrive, I feel special and I remember that experience and that someone took the time to listen to me.

I absolutely hate comparing ministry to the world of business, but I wonder what else we might learn in pastoral care from twenty-first century customer service.

do I look/act like a pastor?

Today, a young man wandered into our church building and needed a place to sit for a while.  He looked like he was having a hard time and wanted a quiet place to think, pray, wrestle.

I invited him upstairs to our sanctuary and told him he was welcome to stay as long as he needed to.

In the middle of the day, I had to run a few errands, so I crept upstairs to see if he was ready to go.  Bent over in prayer, I didn’t have the heart to ask him to leave.  I let him know I would have to go, but that the door would be unlocked and he could stay in peace. He was grateful… evidently he had already tried another church in town and it had been closed.  I tried to think if any of the other churches would have staff present at that time of day and I honestly wasn’t sure.  It is a small town and pastors are often visiting or in meetings. We can’t all afford full time staff for the office. And often our buildings are closed and locked when there are not people present.  It is a sad, but honest reality.

photo by: Dennis Rassing

About 45 minutes later, I came back in. I checked on him and asked if he was okay.  I asked if he needed anything.  He didn’t really seem to want to talk.  So I left him to sit and made my way back downstairs.

He came down later and asked if the Catholic church in town had a confessional.  I gently explained that our local priest had three congregations and I wasn’t sure if he was here in Marengo today.  He lowered his shoulders and left the building, thanking me for the use of the space.

As a few minutes went by, I wondered why I had not offered to hear his confession.  Mediated individual confession is not something we do often in the Wesleyan traditions.  Often, our prayers are between us and God and the presence of a pastor/priest is not always considered.  We corporately offer confession and we leave space for silent individual confession, but it is not thought of as a means of grace in the same way it is in other traditions.  It didn’t cross my mind, to be honest. Well, not until he was already gone. Maybe I doubted my ability to offer what he was looking for.

But then I began to wonder if he had even thought of me as a pastor.  He walked into the church and saw me sitting behind a desk.  I could have been anyone.  A secretary, a volunteer.  Was there anything about me that would have led him to believe that I was someone who was willing and able to offer forgiveness and grace to him?  That I have been called to God to offer prayer and time and the word with him?  Or did he simply see a nice young woman sitting behind a desk, who offered a place to sit for a while?  As he asked about the local Catholic church, was his background such that he would have even considered a female to be someone he could talk with about what was on his mind?

For the first time in a long time, I wished that I had been wearing a clerical collar in the office.  I wished I had a name tag on that said “Pastor Katie.” I know I told him my name and I asked for his, but now I can’t remember if I had mentioned I was the pastor. We don’t normally have folks walk in off the street, but it does happen.  And I want them to know that I am here for them… and in a small town like this, I want them to know that a pastor is available and willing to minister to them in whatever way that they need. In some ways, I feel like I failed in that today. I take a lot for granted and I get comfortable in my own skin in the office.  I didn’t think intentionally about carving out space for my pastoral role regarding this particular person.

But then again, maybe space was all he needed. A friendly face, a non-judgmental smile, a place to sit.

That young man remains in my prayers.  I don’t know where he came from or where he is going. I pray that although I wasn’t the person he turned to, and although I might not have responded the way I should have, that he will find the peace and the comfort that he is seeking.

Saturday night with the drag queens

Saturday night I had an awesome time helping my super best friend since fourth grade celebrate her impending nuptuials. AKA – Bachelorette Party!!!

If I had been wiser, I would have taken Sunday off as one of my vacation days… but I am saving one for this spring when her wedding actually occurs.  As it was, I had to get up early, teach and preach the next morning.  Yet I promised her sister when I wrote back to RSVP that I would be there, but that she could count on me for a designated driver.

As it worked out, I didn’t have to drive at all until the very end of the night.  We had a blast stopping by the piano lounge, the downtown fieldhouse, and then making a stop at Club Basix.  For those who are not familiar, Club Basix is known as a “gay club.”  Which was more than obvious when we walked in the door and the drag show started.

Now, if I am being honest, I have been to more than a few drag shows in my day.  We had them to raise money for the AIDS project of Central Iowa.  We went to them in divinity school (as a lady… it is much more comfortable to dance at the gay clubs – less guys hitting on you all the time!)  And now, I can say that I have been to one back home.

As someone leaned over and mentioned soon after it was getting started: Where else can these people go in Cedar Rapids? (more on that thought later)

The show itself had its highs and lows.  There was one particular number that I was pretty appalled by… okay – it was raunchy and I had to turn away… but for the most part I enjoyed the experience.  I think the best was a rendition of “Bad Romance” by a queen in mismatched pastel boots, gold knickers, a red tutu, rhinestone glasses and a tie-dye shirt… it was ah-mazing.
Later that evening, we were dancing and headed outside for a second for some fresh air.  That particular queen was outside also and we struck up a conversation.  My friend, Cara, had been called out at the end of the show because of our celebrations and so she was asked about the wedding.  As she and I stood there, at one point, Cara replied – and she is marrying me!

It’s true.  I am marrying her.  Well, I’m doing the marrying.  I’m doing the wedding… well, I’m a pastor – that’s what we do!  However your phrase it.

So it came out that I was a minister.  And not a “get a license over the internet person” who performs weddings for people who frequent establishments like Club Basix.  (I was asked that.)   But a genuine, ordained, main-line pastor.  Out at a gay and lesbian night club at 1:30am on a Saturday night/Sunday morning.

And do you know where the conversation turned?  To faith sharing.  Our new friend shared with us that she was baptized Methodist. We talked for a bit about the places we came from.  I was asked about gay marriage in Iowa and if I could perform those types of ceremonies. And she asked me to pray for her.  And I will.  I am.

My adventure at Club Basix began with a simple statement – where else can these people go in Cedar Rapids?  And it ended with the realization that there are a lot of hurt and broken people in that building.  Folks who have been shut out of families.  Individuals who feel scared and alone.  Friends who have built new families around one another… new communities of support because their churches turned them away.

What better place for a pastor to visit?  What an amazing place to be able to talk, for even two minutes in the freezing cold outside, about the love of God?  To leave my own comfort zone, to go and be there on their terms, to listen, and to just be Christ’s presence in that moment. There is no place that I would rather have been.

tea and danish

I’ve blogged before about how church visitation makes my skin crawl.  It gets me all weirded out for no good reason at all.  It is one of two places that my “introverted” side really shines through – the other being the sheer exhaustion that comes over me when I finally get back home after a morning spent at church on a Sunday.

I think part of the reason visitation is so awkward for me (and not the actual visits… and not hospital visits or nursing home visits… its working up to the visit and actually arriving on the doorstep that is hard) is that I don’t want to intrude on people’s lives.  I don’t want to show up unannounced.  I don’t want to butt in.  I know lots of people who would prefer to simply be left alone.  Frankly, when someone shows up on my doorstep – even if I’m kind of expecting them – and I’m wearing my fuzzy red pajama pants and my glasses are on and my hair is hastily in a ponytail – I would rather not answer the door.  And I’m certainly not going to invite them in.

SO.

big problem if you want to be a pastor who tends the flock.

Big problem that I think I have solved.

I now invite folks to invite me over.  Or invite them to stop by.  Or invite them to let me know where/when we can meet for coffee.

I’m sending out these little postcards to folks, one chunk of the alphabet at the time.  And they have the chance to mail them back or drop them in the offering plate and give me some feedback:
Sure- come on over to my house, and here are the times that are good for me.
How about we meet for coffee or lunch somewhere?
I would love to come into the church and visit with you in your office.
Thanks for the offer, but I am not interested in a personal visit at this time.

Just making that decision, to put the ball in my members court, was liberating.

Today, I had my first visit in someone’s home as a result of using these cards.  And it was awesome.  I got the grand tour of her house.  We had danish and cups of tea in the kitchen.  She sent me home with some apples from the tree in her backyard.  We talked about her family and the ways that she had served the church and she had the opportunity to ask me questions about a new position she was taking on for the next year.  And it was because she knew I was coming, and I knew she was expecting me, and because we both wanted to get to know one another better that we had such a wonderful time.
In some ways, I felt like by using this new method I was cheating just a little bit, but after talking with my superintendent, he helped me to realize a few things.
First – this allows my congregation members to respond as they feel comfortable.  This is a german community and folks are pretty private.  They don’t let you into their personal lives easily.  We would rather put on a proud face than admit we have problems and while we are quick to help out, we resist help from anyone else.  This method allows those who want to visit the opportunity to do so – in their own way.
Second – it takes the pressure off the cold calls.  It allows me to be more comfortable, because I already know that this particular person or family is expecting me.  They aren’t worried about what their home looks like, because they invited me to come over.  They aren’t rushing out the door for a soccer game, because this is a time that is good for them.  They are prepared for me to show up.  Or we are meeting somewhere at a specific time and have the chance to grab a cup of coffee and we both know that this time is set aside for a conversation.
Third – It lets folks know that I really do care about them, that I’m willing to make the effort to get out and see them… even if they are people that haven’t been to church in ages.  Most of those folks are not going to return the cards.  And so the question that I’m struck with is – do I call and follow up?  Or do I respect their decision not to reach out?  I think the sentiment we ended on was that if I continue to make these kinds of efforts – not right away – but every once and a while – they’ll know I really do care.  That I’m not pestering.  And that when they are ready – I will be too.