By Way of Introduction

By Way of Introduction

I am new to the whole “blogging” business, and since I have no idea who reads this blog, I should take some time to introduce myself and perhaps give you some insight into where I believe the conversation about parish ministry needs to go. My whole ministry, 30 years and counting, has been dedicated to trying, with varying degrees of success, to get congregations out of themselves and reengaged in the world.

Background

I grew up on a small farm in the middle of nowhere in North Dakota as the youngest of seven children.  I attended school (we only had one building that contained all twelve grades) starting first grade at the tender age of four.  The goal of school, from what I could ascertain, was to work my way through all the rooms, ending up on the second floor where the high school was located.  A rule, either actually or imaginary, of our school was that no one, unless they were in high school, could  journey up to the second floor.  One day I talked my best friend into accompanying me on a walk through the hallowed halls of high school. Like two special agents we covertly, and carefully, journeyed where no fourth-grader had gone before. What I discovered was that no one even noticed us.  So much for rules.  It was an important lesson that would shape my life from that point forward: Rules (written or unwritten) are meant to be broken! (There is a great book titled: First, Break all the Rules by Marcus Buckingham and Curt Coffman.)

After spending seven years as a pilot in the US Marine Corps, I attended seminary which may seem like a strange transition unless you know the “Rest of the Story.”  As a high school kid I made a meager living during the summers by preaching at most of the rural congregations in eastern North Dakota. Seems I have a gift.  My preaching career started one Christmas Eve when I was offered the opportunity to preach at my home church. People commented that I was in the same league as Billy Graham!  I didn’t believe it for a minute, but starting the next summer I was asked by several pastors serving rural congregations if I would fill in for them while they went on vacation.  It was usually  during late July or August, because that’s when harvesting was in full swing and nobody came to church anyway.  One summer I preached the same sermon twelve times.  I would draw large crowds of ten or so faithful people unaware that they were in the presence of a “Billy” knockoff.

As much as I tried to run away from that calling (the story of Jonah resonates with me) it was inevitable that I’d end up at seminary.  Ignorance was bliss because I thought being a pastor was all about preaching.

My Ministry

Over my 30 years I’ve served in clinical settings, as a therapists and chaplain, and as a parish pastor.  Initially I started as a chaplain at a treatment center in St. Paul, Minnesota.  My next setting was a large church in Houston, Texas.  Following that experience, and it was an experience, I returned to clinical settings in Phoenix, Arizona.  When people would ask me which setting I preferred, my response was somewhat cynical: “At least in clinical settings I know there are people wanting to grow and change.”  Following my clinical work in Phoenix, I served three additional congregations in Arizona, South Dakota, and Wisconsin.

I’ve had the best of all worlds and the worst of all worlds.  I’ve had to deal with congregational corruption that covered the gambit of sexual abuse to alcoholism to fraud and embezzlement.  I’ve also experienced the incredible joy as a part of congregations that truly caught the vision of the People of God gathered for the sake of others.

Perspective

What gives me a unique perspective on congregational life is something that happened, quite by accident, while at my first parish in Houston, Texas.  I served a congregation that was in a wonderful part of Houston, filled with well-to-do people, most working in the oil industry as executives, and yet it was completely devoid of life.  The facility covered a large parcel of land that contained a campus setting of five separate buildings that sat empty six-and-a-half days a week.   I would keep asking the “why” question to the dismay of the leadership and council.  “Why don’t we do this….”  “Why don’t we try that….”

The answer was always the same.  “You just don’t know anything about the real parish!”

I did know a thing or two, but after hearing that time and time again, I decided to get some additional experience. I used my study leave and instead of returning to seminary for some continuing theological education, or attending a workshop on “How To Become a Mega Church,” (It was all the rage in the 1980s), I decided to spend time at churches that really seemed to be doing something right.  I selected congregations to visit based on how many cars were parked in the lot on any given day including Sunday morning. Seemed like a sound research tool to me. What I envisioned was simply  following the lead pastor around for a week and asking, “What are you doing and why is it working?” My first candidate was a Methodist Church just down the street from where I was serving (same neighborhood and therefore the same people we were attempting to reach) whose parking lot was full most days of the week.  When I called the lead pastor I was certain he’d just send me off to someone else, or just say “No.” His response was the first of many surprises.

“Absolutely,” he said.  “When can you come?”

I’ve spent time with several congregations over the years of many different flavors: Methodists, Presbyterians, Baptists, Non-denominational, etc.  I discovered that all effective congregation share common traits. They are generous with everything, future-oriented, outwardly focused, minimally structured, able to immediately respond to any situation (never having to wait until the next meeting to act), with a can-do spirit that allows them to take incredible risks.

Armed with new information I returned to my congregation and said, “You’ve told me I don’t know anything, so I spent the last two weeks with two neighboring congregations, one a few blocks that way, and the other a few blocks the other way, and here’s what I discovered…”  I was certain my insights would be wholeheartedly embraced by all.  I was in for another surprise.

“That won’t work here!” was the immediate response from the council without any deliberation.

Well, it would work and it did.  With much struggle I was able to launch a ministry to divorced folks called GLAD (Good Life After Divorce).  We started with four people and within a month we had over 50 people gathering every week for support and encouragement.  As it evolved, we added presentations from area therapists once a month and a component for the kids.  We also enlisted the help of a lawyer who, pro bono, helped folks file court papers seeking back child support so they didn’t have to pay a $2,500 retainer.  It was incredible.  As people joined the group they started finding their way into worship.

The other project was an idea brought to me by a woman who’d known me through my time at a treatment center in St. Paul. She wanted to bring a Minnesota-model intermediate care facility to Houston. The project was called Passages, and it is still in operation today. The leadership, both council and senior pastor, fought me all the way to the end (until they realized it was actually going to happen and then they made it sound like it was their idea!). The congregational members, however, were a different story altogether. They were excited to be a part of something that was truly groundbreaking. They were hungry for real ministry. Many helped me launch the project by raising over $500,000, building the board of directors, and renovating the newly purchased facility. My greatest day came when I conducted a wedding for a former resident of the program at Passages.  Her mother came up to me following the ceremony and said, “If it wasn’t for you and Passages, my daughter would be dead.  I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“You just did.”

I’ve repeated this over and over again in congregation after congregation, but knowledge of effective ministry comes at a price.  I know what congregations are capable of, and I know what most are doing.  Here’s a little test.  Walk (or drive) down any street in your town and as you pass by a church ask yourself this simple question:  “What do I know about them?”

In most cases the answer is absolutely nothing.  Most congregations are isolated pods completely unengaged with the community that surrounds them.  It pains me. The Church of Jesus Christ is suppose to be light, salt, leaven, in other words, great stuff is suppose to happen because we exist. Lives are changed, hope is given, food fills the hungry, clothing brings dignity, sight is given to the blind, freedom to the oppressed.  We don’t exist for ourselves.

If the church (small “c” as in institutional) is going to survive we must bring it back from its self-adsorbed, inwardly focused, overly structured, preoccupation with the club mentality of members only!  Like Elvis, God has left most church buildings, abandoning the Tower of Babel denominations we’ve constructed (aren’t we so proud of our abilities!), and is out in the world working Her magic, while the church that bears Her name is deciding when the next meeting should take place.  (“Death By Meetings,” is another great must-read book).

Purpose

The purpose of this blog isn’t so much theological as practical. There is enough debate about theology and I don’t need to add my voice to that discussion.  My focus is to facilitate a conversation with those who’ve figure out ways of making parish ministry work and share that with others.  It’s the old question of, “What are you doing and why is it working?”  I don’t care to get into theological debates as it oftentimes gets to be a sideshow of who can best split the theological hairs.  As my mother-in-law, who is one of the best biblical theologians I know, is fond of saying, “When Jesus comes again, He is going to say, You got it all wrong.”  “We see in the mirror dimly…we know only in part…” (1 Cor. 13) yet we act like we see clearly and know it all?

I will blog about practical matters. In the coming weeks I’ll share some thoughts about stewardship (time to retire that word), advertising (really, we advertise?), structure (Oh, my god!), and the primary reason most congregations fail (The “Why” question).  I invite your thoughts, feedback, corrections, additions, subtractions, etc. While I love the Church, I’m tired of pretending everything is okay, and I am not alone.  Happy reading.

Scott