A God-Sized Church

I want to be careful here.

I love my big-church brothers and sisters, both those leading them and those involved in any other way in the fabulous ministries they have.  Many are very dear friends of mine.  I am delighted to be part of City Watch in Kitchener Waterloo, a gathering of church and para-church leaders, where our emphasis is this idea that we are "one church" in the city, doing what we do together better than if we kept to ourselves.  And I believe in that.  Very much.

So what follows is not in any way, by any means, an us-and-them polemic.

Because I also love pastors of small churches and the churches they love and lead!!!!!

The thing is, there are countless pastors of small churches out there who are "suffering from debilitation and even depression fostered by a lack of significance" and, I would add, by an unnecessary negative comparison to the perception that huge equals success.  Quoting again Karl Vaters in The Grasshopper Myth, "God has a lot of demoralized leaders."

This breaks my heart.  Because I've done that trek, and it's crushing.

We can't help it, us pastor types, this comparison thing.  In a vocation that already is not particularly esteemed within our current post-modern culture (see Gary Nelson's Borderland Churches for stats and history), the most we can hope for is some sort of validity within our own circles.  Unfortunately, we're human enough to default into measuring our success, our importance, by the optics.  And the biggest optics happen around Sunday morning attendance and the size of the building where that congregation meets.  And if you have a smaller building, well then, at the very least, you surely must be having 'multiple services'. 

Multiple services, multiple staff, multiple baptisms, multiple anything.  It all sounds like growth, and it is growth.  Just not the only kind of growth that happens in the kingdom of God.

My heart breaks because for such a long time I was focused on these optics and getting disillusioned and disheartened.  I had tried to be all the things the conference speakers said I should be.  Tried to implement all the strategies the assessment tools said should be implemented.  Tried to attract the "right" kind of people.  I blamed myself.  And worked harder.

And all the while when it wasn't "happening", all the while I was working so hard but not getting the results I expected, I was missing the very things God was doing among us, not in spite of, but largely because of the fact that we were a small church!

The 'aha' happened in a time we Bible-types can sometimes call 'wrestling with God'.  I had gone away overnight for a time of solitude, and I was prepared to duke this out with Him.  A ways into my prayer rant I started to get mad.  I had given up some of my most cherished treasures for the church.  Why wasn't God coming through and providing the obvious measures of growth and success I was sure He owed me?  And as proof of great mercy and grace I was NOT struck by lightening in that hotel room!

Instead I surrendered, like a child having a meltdown finally relaxes into the arms of her parent.  Okay, Lord.  This is Your church.  Have it Your way.

Which is what He was going to do anyways.  And oh, I am so glad He did.

Because not so coincidentally, after that time, I started to see God doing no end of amazing things in the hearts of our people.  Passion for social justice began to manifest itself in positive action with real life results.  Young people who were supposed to be leaving the church in droves were sticking around and taking new responsibilities of leadership and involvement.  Folks of all stripes were being cared for and embraced within the organic relational web of knowing and being known that happens quite naturally in a church our size.  Neighbours were being fed.  Orphans were brought into a family. Seniors were being housed.  Marriages were being fortified.  Life was being offered, and received, and poured out again in blessing.  Stuff like mercy and love and joy and kindness and perseverance and gentleness and self-control was becoming more and more evident in our ways of being the church together.

A work in progress for sure.  Not perfect, since I was in the midst of it.  But even in that, even in daring to be transparent enough to take my own stumbling steps of spiritual formation within this community, I sensed more and more the grace and love that told me we were a successful church.

These are harder things to see.  Can't really put it all on pictures or cool videos on our website.  Didn't change much the size of our Sunday morning attendance.  But it was 'happening'.

And it was 'happening' in a small church.

I didn't stumble upon Karl Vader's book until after my own trek through this crush.  I am grateful for church Elders who stayed focused on the important things despite their own temptations to compare.  I am grateful for mentors and encouragers who kept telling me what they saw in me that God wanted to use for the kingdom.  Mostly, I am grateful for the beautiful, honest people who somehow kept at it even when I was having my own flares of temper, and stayed with me, stayed with each other, until we came out the other side to see the brilliance of God's better story for us.

So, pastor of a small church.  Carry on!  Stand firm.  Let nothing move you.  You have an essential ministry assignment.  Those people God gave you?  They are yours to love and lead and be with. Love deeply these cherished ones.  And let them love you.  They are showing you the face of God.

There is good work happening in hearts all around you.  Your church has every reason to be successful without the mega in front of it.  Stay healthy.  Yes, work on healthy.  Read books that draw you into the deeper places of pastoral contemplation.  Books by authors like Peterson, Palmer, Willard, and Nouwen.  

Love your Bible.  Pray like you mean it.  Listen to the stories of your people.  Stay open.  Partner with the bigger churches around you.  Watch for all God will bring you, as with Him, you build this God-sized church He's asking you to shepherd.

Maybe you will grow big in numbers.  Maybe you won't.

Either way, what an honour to do this thing we do.  And you're not alone.

The Gramma Thing

Zachary has always been, shall we say, expressive. 

And I love it. 

Since we lived together in the same house for the first three years of his life, I can say with confidence that even as a baby he found his way all across the emotive scale, back and forth to either end, often in a matter of seconds, there and back again, and again.   What you get from Zachary is exactly what he's feeling at any given moment.  "Plain, unvarnished truth," as my Dad used to say.

Last week he and I ended up spending a lot of time together.  On Tuesday he had an appointment during work hours, and I was more than happy to make myself available.  And then, quite unrelated, that evening he started running a fever that got him dropped off to my house for the day on Wednesday.  Normally, Wednesday nights are a standing order for either Ken or I to be at their house to put younger folks to bed when Mom and Dad are out.  So by Wednesday afternoon, when he was being picked up, I said, "I'm going to see you again in just a few hours.  You're going to say, 'Gramma, I'm sick of you!'"

Without any hesitation and with a sincerely puzzled look on his face, Zachary asked, "Why would I ever say that?"

Something's working.

My relational world has shifted significantly lately, which is why I am musing on these various circles of my life, at this particular stage of my life.  And in my musings, I conclude that this Gramma thing is of HUGE importance to me.

From the moment I knew my daughter was expecting our first grandchild, I had dreams.  Dreams about what kind of Gramma I would like to be, and what kind of connection I might be able to have with my grandchildren.  Now, twelve years and four grandkids later I am finding a great and surprising joy in how those dreams have worked out. 

These kids!  They teach me so much about everything; about priorities and surrender and abandoned joy and unconditional love.  They are truly glad when I show up, and who doesn't need that?  They feel free to tell me ever so politely, "Gramma I would just like to point out that we haven't been to the Dollar Store in quite some time" (Harvest).  And apparently, they can't imagine ever getting sick of me.  What a gift to my always-struggling self esteem.


With no little gratitude toward my children and their spouses, who are key in all of this, I can say with wonder and delight, I think we're doing this well, the kids and I, this Gramma thing. 

I am rich beyond my imagination.

And then.

God gave me more.

Because there are 26 more grandchildren half way around the world.  And somehow for some reason still incredulous to me, they have adopted me.  And I get to be Gramma to them too.  And this has been not a dream but a surprise.  Not something I saw coming at all, really.  But a gift I fully embrace and receive with great joy.  These kids teach me so much about everything; about perspectives and sacrifice and impossible joy and reckless love.  They too, to my astonishment, seem genuinely glad when I show up, and would never in a million years dream of asking to go to the Dollar Store (so NOT gringjai!), but vibrate with delight if we just head down to the 7/11 for ice cream.

I am rich beyond my wildest Gramma dreams.

To do this together with Grandad - that's just over the top.




These are good, good days.  Cups-running-over kinds of days.  Made-it-through-some-storms-and-are-better-for-it kinds of days.  Doing-this-together-no-matter-what kinds of days.  Days of loving deeply and forging family for a new generation.

This Gramma thing.
I think it's one of my life's best rewards.

A Thank You to Pastors This Thanksgiving Weekend - October is Clergy Appreciation Month

Dear Pastor and Ministry Servant,

This weekend you will lead your people in an expression of thanksgiving and praise to the One who has lavished so much on us.  These kinds of Sundays stand out.  There's often something uniquely focused and real about the morning, not just in the service, but in the hearts of the gathered community.  I pray you will thoroughly enjoy yourself in the midst of them; offering worship, learning together from the Word God has given, being the Church together in gratitude that is real and deep and strong.

And on behalf of those you serve, and in case no one says so, Thank you.

Thank you for all the preparation you do for every sermon you preach.  Like the mess in the kitchen that doesn't get put on the serving plate, so much of what goes on to get it ready is hidden from those who will receive.

Thank you for all the times you've been getting into bed, but have gotten dressed again to go tend to someone in crisis; at the hospital, at a funeral home, in a coffee shop in the middle of the night.

Thank you for fielding all those emails that a community just generates out of sheer necessity of keeping everything running and letting everyone know what's going on.  But also for those emails that sting, or press you into corners, or release that adrenaline and cortisol.  And for all you do to stay humble and gentle as you respond.

Thank you for receiving so graciously all the 'feedback' about your sermons, particularly in those sensitive moments just after the service.  And for really listening, and not becoming defensive, and allowing even those most cutting of criticisms to press you into better things.

Thank you for engaging in the struggle for Biblical competency, and for living in the tension of a responsible hermeneutic in a post-Christian culture.  Thank you for wrestling with that 'second tier' of theology where doctrine and real life collide because....people.  And thanks especially for staying true to your own Biblical conscience in the face of being told, by some, that you don't love the Bible.

Thank you for taking out the garbage and spreading salt on that icy spot in the parking lot, and doing up someone's forgotten dishes, and unplugging the toilet, and staying late after that long day of meetings because the door won't lock and you're waiting for the locksmith to arrive.

Thank you for leading all the meetings; for making up the agendas, and fielding all the group dynamics and following up with all the assignments, and probably being the one who has to keep all the files in order.

Thank you for not giving trite answers to profoundly anguished questions, and for sitting in silence instead, and for weeping with those who weep.  Thank you for sometimes NOT being that 'unaffected presence' and allowing the pain of those you love to become your own pain, and in so doing being the hands and feet and tears of Jesus for them.

Thank you for living on probably half the salary you could be earning if you went out into the workplace with your skill set.

Thank you for courageously turning the light of scrutiny inward, asking the Spirit to check all the hidden spaces, so that you can love and lead authentically.  And for risking so much when you allow another brother or sister to hold you accountable; for living 'inside out'.

And there is so much more we could thank you for.

God knows.

"God is not unjust; he will not forget your work 

and the love you have shown him 

as you have helped his people 

and continue to help them."  

Hebrews 6:10

One Pastor's Perspective - A Month of Appreciation

October is apparently 'Clergy Appreciation Month'.

I don't know who invents these things, but I want to take advantage of it in a particular way this year.  I would like to use my personal Blog and Facebook space to celebrate, encourage and support pastors of local churches in a concentrated way over the entire month.

But I should make something clear here, right at the beginning.  I no longer serve as a pastor of a local church.  So perhaps I now speak from an 'outside' perspective.  At least as far as an official capacity goes.  Then again, inside of me there is still a pastor.  I think that was true long before anyone called me pastor, and will likely be true no matter what else I might be called in the future.    So my perspective will be anything but objective.

To be honest, I hope to leverage my subjectivity and personal connection to this vocation in such a way that might bring awareness to various issues, ponderings and challenges that are specific to pastoral ministry.

If you're a pastor, my hope is that throughout the month you might be given something truly important, badly needed, or simply helpful for the task at hand.  Maybe this venture of mine will be part of that.  I hope so, but I hope greater things for you.  I hope your people will take the time to thank you for the way you love and serve them.  They can't possibly truly understand all that you do.  But they can let you know how much you mean to them.  I hope they do.  But even more importantly, I hope that whatever is before you in these next four weeks, you might be all the more aware of God's presence and power.

If you're led and taught and loved by a pastor, my hope is that throughout the month you might gain insights into what it's like to lead and teach and love you.  Your pastors study hard and pay attention to their congregations, sacrificing much, so that they can know you and serve you better. It seems only fitting, especially during Clergy Appreciation Month, that we say thank you.

If you've been abused or harmed by a pastor, my heart breaks.  I know this reality in ways that are personally wretched.  And I am so very sorry that someone whom you should have been able to trust broke that trust so profanely.  And this is also true; that's not all of us.  And pastors who are serving in love and faithfulness need to be cheered on so they can keep doing so.

So every day throughout October I will post something, either here or on Facebook only, that in some way acknowledges these spiritual leaders among us.  Scriptures, quotes, book recommendations, stories, ideas about ways to love your pastors, ideas about ways to pastor your people, my own heart ponderings from this new perspective I've been given.  Anything that will bring energy and life and hope to those who labour so beautifully in this mystical thing called a community of faith.