Tag: growth (Page 1 of 3)

The Chaplaincy Trap

June 3, 2026 / / 0 Comments


The Outward Turn  ·  Part One

If your church ceased to exist tomorrow, would anyone outside your congregation know it was gone?

Sit with that question for a moment before you answer it.

Not the people on your roster. Not the families who would miss Sunday morning. Not the pastor whose livelihood depends on the doors staying open. I mean the neighbors. The apartment complex two blocks away. The single mom who drives past your building every morning on her way to work. The young couple who moved into the neighborhood last year and has no idea your church exists. The business owner on the corner whose employees walk past your parking lot every day.

Would any of them notice?

For most congregations in America, and I say this not to wound but to wake, the honest answer is no. And that’s not a condemnation of the people in those churches. Most of them are good, faithful, loving people who genuinely believe in what they’re doing. But somewhere along the way, without a single dramatic decision, without anyone choosing it on purpose, the church turned inward. And it stayed there.

That’s the chaplaincy trap. And it’s far more common, far more subtle, and far more dangerous than most church leaders are willing to admit.

How It Happens: Comfort to Competency to Identity

Nobody decides to become a chaplaincy church. It doesn’t show up on a vision statement. No board votes to stop caring about the community outside their walls. It happens incrementally, organically, almost invisibly. And it follows a remarkably consistent pattern.

It starts with comfort. A congregation naturally gravitates toward the things its people enjoy, the programs that feel meaningful, the worship style that resonates, the community events that draw a crowd from within. That’s not inherently wrong. A church should be a place where people are genuinely nourished.

But comfort, left unchecked, slides into competency. We get good at the things we do repeatedly. The choir sounds great. The Sunday school runs smoothly. The potluck is legendary. The small groups are warm and connected. These are genuine goods. But they’re all goods that serve the people already in the room.

And then, and this is the critical moment, that competency hardens into identity. What we do becomes who we are. The choir isn’t just a ministry anymore; it’s the soul of this congregation. The Sunday school isn’t just a program; it’s our heritage. And at that point, any suggestion of change doesn’t feel like a strategic conversation. It feels like an existential threat.

The drift is complete. The church now exists, functionally, to sustain itself. The budget reflects it. The calendar reflects it. The staff structure reflects it. And the community outside the walls? They have no idea the church is there because the church has no idea they exist either.

The chaplaincy trap isn’t about bad people. It’s about good people who stopped asking the most important question: who are we here for?

What It Looks Like in Practice

Pull out your church’s budget from last year. Not the vision statement on the wall the actual budget, where the actual dollars went. Ask yourself one question as you read through it:

How much of this spending is oriented toward people who are not yet in this room?

In most congregations, the honest answer is somewhere between five and fifteen percent. Everything else – staff, facilities, programs, insurance, utilities, equipment – serves the people already gathered. That’s not automatically wrong. But if nearly every dollar is pointed inward, the budget is telling you something the vision statement is not.

Now look at the calendar. Count the events from the last twelve months. Sort them into two columns: events designed primarily for the congregation, and events designed primarily to reach, serve, or welcome people who aren’t part of your church. In most congregations, the second column is nearly empty or at best populated with things like a trunk-or-treat that technically invites the community but is really designed to make insiders feel like they’re doing outreach.

Now look at your staff or volunteer leadership structure. Who has a defined role oriented specifically toward people outside the walls.  Not just hospitality to Sunday morning visitors, but intentional, sustained engagement with the surrounding community? For most churches, the answer is no one.

Budget. Calendar. Staff. These three things tell you more about a church’s actual priorities than any vision statement ever written. And in a chaplaincy church, all three point the same direction: inward.

The Theological Problem Underneath the Practical One

Here’s where I need to say something that goes beyond strategy and budgets, because the chaplaincy trap is not just a leadership failure. It is a theological one.

The church was not gathered by Christ in order to maintain itself. It was gathered in order to be sent. The Great Commission is not an addendum to the Christian life. It is its central organizing principle. The verb “go” is the first word of the gospel commission. Not “gather.” Not “sustain.” Go.

When a congregation loses its outward orientation, it doesn’t just become less effective. It becomes something subtly different from what Jesus intended the church to be. A community that exists primarily to serve its own members is a club, not a church. No matter how sincerely it worships, how soundly it preaches, how warmly it fellowships.

The Apostle Paul’s image of the body in 1 Corinthians 12 is instructive here. Every part exists for the sake of the whole. And the whole exists for the sake of the world. A body that turns all its energy inward, that consumes its own resources on its own comfort, is not healthy. It is ill. And the illness, if untreated, is fatal.

A body that consumes all its energy on its own comfort isn’t thriving. It’s sick. And a congregation that exists primarily for itself has quietly traded the Great Commission for a much smaller story.

The Way Out Is Not a Program. It’s a Posture.

If you’re reading this and feeling the weight of recognition. If some part of you is thinking yes, this is us, and I don’t know how we got here…I want to offer something more useful than guilt.

The way out of the chaplaincy trap is not a new outreach program. It’s not a rebranding effort, a new series, or a community event. Those things can be useful, but they treat the symptom rather than the disease. What actually changes a chaplaincy church is a shift in posture. It’s a fundamental reorientation of how the congregation understands its own existence.

That shift starts not with programs but with proximity. It starts with leaders. No, not just pastors, but elders, deacons, ministry chairs, and committed lay people. It’s leaders choosing to spend intentional time in the community they say they want to reach. Not with an agenda. Not with a tract. Just present. Learning names. Understanding needs. Asking questions instead of offering answers.

It starts with a budget conversation that asks not just “what do we need to sustain our ministries” but “what would we need to fund if we were serious about the people outside this building?” That conversation will be uncomfortable. It should be.

It starts with a calendar that has white space on it. Space not filled with another congregational event, but held open for something that doesn’t exist yet. New ministry rarely gets started because there’s a perfect opportunity. It gets started because someone decided to make room for it before they knew what it would become.

And it starts with the question we opened with. Asked not once, but regularly. Asked in board meetings. Asked in budget reviews. Asked in staff conversations and small group discussions.

If we ceased to exist tomorrow, would anyone outside this room know we were gone?

If the answer is no, or even maybe, that’s not a verdict. It’s your invitation.

Leader Assessment

These questions are designed to be answered in two stages. Sit with the personal questions alone first. Honest self-assessment is the foundation of honest leadership.

Sit With These Alone First

When was the last time I had a meaningful conversation with someone in my community who has no connection to my church – not to recruit them, but simply to know them?

If I’m honest, do I spend more of my leadership energy sustaining what exists or creating space for what doesn’t yet exist?

What would I have to give up personally to lead the church toward a more outward posture? Am I willing to pay that cost?

Bring These to Your Leadership

Pull out last year’s budget and calendar. What percentage of our spending and programming was oriented toward people not yet in this congregation? What does that number tell us?

Ask the question plainly: If our church ceased to exist tomorrow, would anyone outside this congregation notice? What would need to change for the answer to become an unambiguous yes?

Name one specific neighborhood, demographic, or community within two miles of this building that has no meaningful connection to our church. What would it cost us in time, money, and energy to begin building one?

Next in this series: the case for merging, consolidating, and going multisite not as institutional strategy, but as the most faithful thing a dying congregation and a growing one can do for each other.

The Long Walk Through Grief

May 15, 2026 / / 0 Comments

Grief doesn’t end at the funeral.

That’s the part nobody prepares you for. There’s a day when everything breaks open – the phone call, the hospital room, the empty chair, the lowered casket. The moment it all gets real. The moment time fractures and nothing quite holds the same weight anymore.

But that isn’t the whole story. That’s just the beginning of the long walk. What comes after is quieter. And in some ways, harder.

Because after the casseroles stop coming and the texts slow down and the house gets quiet again, grief doesn’t leave. It just changes shape. It learns to walk beside you instead of standing in front of you. It becomes an uninvited houseguest who never checks out. It’s always there, always taking up space, showing up in rooms you thought were safe.

And after a while, it stops announcing itself. It’s just there.

I’ve felt it in waves over the last several years.

Three grandparents gone in eighteen months during the COVID years. One after another, like a slow unraveling of a generation that had always been there in the background of my life. You don’t realize how much space someone fills until you start trying to live without them.

And then there was my mentor. My friend. The kind of man who shaped you more than he ever knew. He was a man who could see something in you before you could see it yourself. I still remember the early morning hours when the news came. Driving to his house. Being there with the family. Finding the steady voice I had to locate somewhere inside me when everything wanted to collapse. The phone calls. The arrangements. The borrowed words at the funeral because your own don’t work anymore.

There’s a kind of grief that doesn’t let you fall apart immediately. It asks you to stand up first. To make it through. To shake hands and speak and hold things together. And only later, much later, does it let you feel what it actually cost you.

That’s the part people don’t see.

It shows up in ordinary moments. A holiday table where one chair is just empty. Not dramatically. Not in a way that draws attention. Just quietly absent. And somehow that absence becomes part of the furniture of your life.

New traditions get built around it. People adjust. Time moves forward in all the expected ways.

But grief keeps a different calendar.

It comes back at Christmas. It shows up for every birthday without an invitation. It finds you on a random Tuesday afternoon when a song hits just right and suddenly you’re somewhere else entirely.

And it isn’t only emotional. Grief is physical. It can pull the wind out of your chest like something still connected got yanked loose. It can sit in your throat like a weight you can’t swallow. It can make your body tired in ways sleep doesn’t fix. There were stretches where I wasn’t sure if my body was breaking until I realized it wasn’t. It was my heart carrying more than it was designed to carry alone.

And if I’m honest, there were moments where it wasn’t just my emotions that felt shaken.

It was my faith, too.

Not abandoned. Not gone. But unsteady. Because grief presses on the places where theology meets real life. Where “God is good” sits right next to “I miss them so much it hurts to breathe.” And those two things don’t always feel like they belong in the same sentence. Sometimes they feel like they’re in different languages.

I’ve learned not to rush past that tension. Not to tie it up quickly with the right verses and a clean conclusion. Some things don’t resolve. They just slowly, over time, become something you can hold. The doubt and the faith. The loss and the love. The absence and the presence of God in the middle of it.

They don’t cancel each other out. They just both turn out to be true at the same time.

The long walk through grief is not a straight path. It’s not stages neatly checked off. It’s more like learning to live in an altered landscape. You don’t get back to the way things were. You learn to carry what’s been changed.

Some days you walk with strength you didn’t know you had. Other days something small like a smell, a photograph you didn’t expect to see, a handwriting you recognize on an old card and you’re back at the beginning again.

Grief isn’t something you get over. It’s something you grow around. And slowly, you begin to understand that love and loss aren’t opposites. They’re deeply connected. You only grieve what shaped you.

So I’ve stopped expecting it to disappear. I’m learning to walk with it instead. To let it speak when it needs to. To not rush past it just because the world has moved on.

Because the world always moves on.

Grief doesn’t. It just walks with you. It’s quiet, persistent, and somehow, over time, part of the way you see everything else.

Not smaller.

Just carried differently.

What My Chickens Are Teaching Me This Season

May 14, 2026 / / 0 Comments

If you would have told me ten years ago that I’d live on 13 acres with about twenty chickens and a substantial garden, I would likely have laughed in your face. But here we are. And I’m loving it.

But I will tell you that life on a farm, even a mini farm, isn’t for everyone. You either love it or you’re gonna hate it.

Like the night the guy who helps farm my land decided to spray the field. Nope, not with weed killer or any pesticides. This was straight up liquified hog manure. And unless you’ve smelled it, you can’t appreciate the speed with which we closed every window and door in the house.

There’s a rhythm to life on a piece of land like this. Seasons change and with every changing season you find a new pace. Then there’s the livestock. We have chickens, but other animals have similar cycles. Some seasons those little feathered velociraptors push eggs out faster than you can eat them. They forage through every open piece of ground they can find. They’ll eat just about anything. They’ll debug your garden or your fruit trees. They’ll take care of the weeds if you let them. But they’re indiscriminate, so just be careful.

But chickens aren’t always dropping those yolked shells of goodness. Some seasons they have to redirect their energy and capacity to keep warm, or to regrow feathers during molting season.

Life in many ways is like taking care of land or livestock. There are seasons to how we live.

The molting season is the one nobody likes to talk about. The chickens look terrible. Feathers are everywhere. Production drops to almost nothing, and that’s if you’re lucky enough to still get an egg a day from your flock. Until I knew better, I thought something was wrong.

But that’s the thing. Nothing is wrong. Everything is exactly right. The chicken isn’t broken. It’s just redirecting. All that energy that was going into egg production is now going somewhere less visible. Regrowth. New feathers. Renewed capacity for the season ahead.

People have molting seasons too.

There are seasons where output drops and you can’t explain why. Where you feel like you should be producing more but everything in you is just… quiet. You might even be a little featherless and rough around the edges. The seasons where you look at yourself in the mirror and think something has to be wrong.

But what if nothing is wrong? What if you’re just molting?

You probably didn’t choose this season. The chicken didn’t either. The season made that decision for it. And the chicken doesn’t fight it. It doesn’t fret because it’s losing feathers. It doesn’t panic because the egg production is down. It just molts.

There’s something humbling and freeing about that. The reality that we don’t always get to choose the season we’re in. Sometimes the quiet, stripped-down, low-output season isn’t failure. It isn’t a lack of effort or discipline. It’s just where you are.

Your job isn’t to stop the molt. It’s to recognize the disheveled mess of feathers around you and stop fighting it.

I Don’t Workout To Look Good

January 16, 2026 / / 0 Comments

It’s no secret I spend a lot of time in the gym.
Sometimes it’s the one in my garage. Sometimes it’s the one down the road from work.

Either way, my feet hit the floor at 4:00 a.m. Most mornings I’m out the driveway by 4:07. Long before the rest of my family even thinks about being awake.

But here’s the reality most don’t understand. I don’t do it to look good. I don’t do it to have the best physique.

I do it because I know something to be true: We don’t accidentally get strong.

I’m not going to wake up some random Monday and be stronger than I was yesterday. Strength doesn’t show up by surprise. It takes discipline. It takes effort. It takes grit. And if I stop putting in the work, I don’t stay the same. I get weaker.

That part of life is obvious.

It’s also no secret that I’m getting older. But so is everyone else. None of us are just going to “feel better someday.” We won’t magically become more disciplined tomorrow. And we won’t suddenly want to put in effort once the circumstances are “just right.”

That day doesn’t come. No matter how much we wish for it.

So what am I training for?

I’m training to be stronger today than I was yesterday. I’m training to be healthy enough to take care of my family for decades to come. I’m training to run around with future grandkids someday (no, this is not a hint so don’t read into it).

I’m also training with an eye on reality. Heart issues. Cholesterol. Blood pressure. Joint problems. I’ve seen enough of that in my extended family to know I want to stay as healthy as I can for as long as I can.

When it comes to our bodies, training makes sense to us. We can measure it.
The scale moves.
The weights get heavier.
The waistline changes.

But here’s the question that keeps nagging at me:

Why do we understand training so clearly in the gym, but act like it doesn’t matter anywhere else?

We don’t drift into strength or discipline. We drift into weakness.

That hit me this morning as I pulled out of my driveway at 4:07 a.m. If I’m this intentional about getting stronger physically, why wouldn’t that same principle apply to the rest of my life? Why do we make resolutions about workouts but ignore what’s shaping our character, our focus, our patience, and our habits?

So here are the harder questions I’m sitting with:

What is my phone training me to crave?
What is my desire for comfort training me to avoid?
What is my daily routine shaping me into?

As I keep training in the gym, I’m realizing I need to wrestle with a bigger question:

What else in my life is quietly training me, and what is it training me to become?

That’s a question worth paying attention to.

3 Steps to Break Through Your Midweek Slump

January 14, 2026 / / 0 Comments

Wednesdays can suck. You start the week fired up, but by midweek your energy tanks, motivation fades, and your goals feel far away. If that sounds like you, you’re not alone and there’s a way to fix it.

First, get real about your why. If your reason for chasing your goals isn’t clear and meaningful, you’ll quit when things get hard. So ask yourself: Why does this matter? What drives you? Family? Freedom? Pride? Write it down. Keep it front and center. Your why has to hit you every day.

Next, break your goals down. Big goals are overwhelming and kill motivation. Don’t focus on the finish line. Slice your goal into small, manageable steps you can tackle today or throughout the week. Writing 500 words today beats staring at an entire book you haven’t even started. Small wins add up fast and build unstoppable momentum. Celebrate each and every one of them.

Finally, shift your mindset. Negative self-talk is the enemy of progress. When you catch yourself thinking “I can’t” or “I’m too tired,” stop it. Replace those thoughts with “I’m capable” and “I’m making progress.” This isn’t fluff. It’s owning your power and refusing to let doubt run the show.

Your midweek slump is a choice. You can let it drag you down or fight back with clarity, focus, and action. This 3-step strategy isn’t optional if you want to win. It’s essential.

No excuses. No delays. Just results.

Why Most People Quit on the New Year by January 15 and How Not to Be One of Them

January 2, 2026 / / 0 Comments

Most people don’t fail at change because they lack motivation.
They fail because they try to change everything at once.

New year energy is high. Expectations are even higher. And by mid-January, a lot of people are already quietly quitting yet again.

So this year let’s try something different.

If you want 2026 to actually feel different, don’t overhaul your life. Build a few simple habits you can keep. Not impressive ones. Sustainable ones.

Here are three simple tips that work because they’re small enough to stick and strong enough to matter.

1. Start Smaller Than You Think You Should

Most people aim for dramatic. Lose 50 pounds by the end of the year. Save $1000 more per month, even though the budget can’t sustain it. Run a marathon, even though you don’t run at all. People often think big change requires big effort.

But it doesn’t. It requires consistent effort.

Ten minutes of anything beats an hour you never show up for.
One page read beats a book you never open.
One prayer spoken beats a spiritual plan that lives in your notes app.

If a habit feels heavy before you even start, it’s simply too big.

Simple truth: Momentum is built by keeping promises to yourself, not by making ambitious ones.

Ask yourself: What’s the smallest version of this habit I could actually do most days?
Start there.

2. Attach New Habits to Old Rhythms

Willpower is unreliable. Structure is not.

The easiest way to build something new is to attach it to something you already do:

  • Coffee in the morning → one quiet moment of prayer or reflection
  • Commute → listen to an audio book, podcast, or even your daily Bible plan
  • Brushing your teeth → have one question you ask yourself daily

You don’t need more time.
You need to use the time you have more efficiently.

This works for faith, fitness, reading, leadership. It works for pretty much everything.

Simple truth: If it doesn’t have a place in your day, it won’t last.

3. Measure Faithfulness, Not Outcomes

Most people quit because they measure the wrong thing.

They ask:

  • “Am I seeing results yet?”
  • “Do I feel different?”
  • “Is this working?”
  • “Do I weigh less today than yesterday?”

A better question: Did I show up today?

Showing up is the win. Repeating it is the breakthrough.

Growth, whether that’s spiritual, physical, or emotional, often happens quietly. You don’t notice it until you look back and realize you’re not where you used to be.

Simple truth: Consistency compounds even when you can’t see it yet.

A Final Coaching Question

Before this year fills up with noise, schedules, and expectations, wrestle with this:

What is one habit that if you practiced it most days would make the biggest difference by the end of the year?

Not five habits.
Not a perfect plan.
Just one habit.

Start there. Stay with it. Adjust as needed. Repeat.

And if you want help thinking through habits, rhythms, or next steps, whether faith-related or life-related in any way, I do offer one-on-one coaching. You don’t have to figure everything out alone.

Just email me here if that would be helpful.

This year doesn’t change because it’s new.
It changes when you do something new and keep doing it.

Be well, friends.

Letting Go

July 19, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Life isn’t a continuous accumulation of people, experiences, and things. Sometimes, the most powerful and transformative act you can perform is to let go. It’s time to embrace the unapologetic power of letting things go, and do it without hesitation or regret. Clinging to what no longer serves you isn’t strength; it’s the very anchor that’s holding you back from sailing toward your greatness.

First, let’s talk about relationships. Perhaps you’ve heard the cliché, “People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.” Here’s a hard truth: not everyone who walks into your life is meant to stay. Friends, neighbors, even family members can outgrow their place in your journey. Holding onto toxic relationships because of time invested or fear of loneliness is pure madness. The longer you grip onto a relationship that’s draining you, the longer you delay your own happiness and growth. Letting go of someone who no longer respects, loves, or supports you is a bold declaration of self-worth. It’s not about cruelty; it’s about self-preservation.

Now don’t get all bent here. I’m not saying you should drop every relationship that no longer serves you! Some relationships are just not good. Running back into the arms of an abusive partner is a bad idea. Constantly feeling like you have to apologize for your actions around that friend because they don’t like your approach might be an indication that the term friend is slightly overstated.

Next, consider your dreams and goals. I know this might sting a bit. We’re often told to never give up, to relentlessly pursue our dreams. But here’s the kicker: some dreams aren’t meant to come true. Holding onto a goal that’s no longer aligned with who you are or what you want isn’t determination; it’s delusion. It’s okay to change course, to admit that what you once wanted isn’t what you want anymore. It’s not quitting; it’s redirecting your energy to something more fulfilling. Letting go of an outdated dream isn’t failure; it’s a strategic retreat that opens the door to new opportunities.

Packrats beware, you’re next. Possessions, those beloved trinkets of the past. Sentimentality can quickly turn into a suffocating trap. Do you really need to hold onto that box of notes from a high school relationship that ended a decade ago? Or that piece of clothing you’ll never be able to wear again but can’t seem to part with? Letting go applies to just about everything, except the scrap pieces of lumber in my garage that I might need to use one day.

Physical clutter creates mental clutter. Your environment should reflect the clarity and freedom you seek in your mind. Decluttering isn’t just a trendy lifestyle choice; it’s a radical act of self-liberation. Let go of the past’s physical anchors to make room for the future’s treasures.

Work and career paths aren’t immune from the let go approach. Many of us stick to jobs that we despise or career paths that stifle our passion because of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of financial instability, fear of judgment. But staying in a job that drains your soul is a slow death. It’s time to muster the courage to walk away from what doesn’t ignite your passion or align with your values. Trust that something better awaits. You owe it to yourself to pursue work that makes you feel alive, not just financially secure.

But wait there’s more! The most elusive yet critical thing to let go of: our past selves. We are constantly evolving, yet we often hold ourselves to outdated versions of who we once were. Let go of the mistakes, the failures, and the regrets. They are weights you don’t need to carry into your future. Each new day is a chance to redefine yourself. Shed the skin of your past and step into the version of you that you’re meant to be.

So whether it’s a friendship that has run its course, a job that just doesn’t feed your passion, even a piece of property that no longer achieves its purpose – it’s ok to let some things go. The test of maturity and strength is to know what to hold onto and what to let go. When you master this, you find some immense clarity and strength.

Letting go is not a sign of weakness; it’s a testament to your strength. It’s a bold assertion that you are worthy of more – more love, more happiness, more fulfillment. So, be ok with cutting the ties that bind you to mediocrity and step into the greatness that awaits. Remember, sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself is to unapologetically, unequivocally, let go.

Change

January 10, 2024 / / 0 Comments

There are two kinds of people in the world, and the title of this post revealed both sides. When you think of changes to something about which you’re passionate, you either get super excited or fight it with all your might. Which are you?

Admittedly, there are some gradients here. Some are like I’m in! Let’s change it all! Others are willing to change even though they know it will hurt. Still others who are not resistant to change will tiptoe into it knowing it needs to happen but not be super excited about it.

What I think everyone needs to understand is that change is essential and it is everywhere. Change doesn’t really care of you want to do it or not. Change doesn’t mind if you hate it or love it. Change is just change.

We change our clothes everyday, some of us more than once a day. The seasons change, unless you live in Ohio and it’s pretty much always gray and gloomy this time of year. Trees change from bare in the winter to buds in spring to leaves in summer. Grass changes from lush and green in the spring to dormant in the summer to back to dormant again in the winter months again.

Change is everywhere!

Watching changes happen from one season to another or changing your clothes are super easy. But what about when, after you get married, your new spouse changes the way the budget has always been worked? Or what happens when she makes chili in a different way than your mom used to make it? Or what about someone proposing a change in how your church does worship? (you know the whole hymnal vs band debate that seems to be never ending)

The point is some changes are easier to manage than others. While change doesn’t always have to be bad but it is always disruptive to comfort. And therein lies the problem. We love our comforts in life. We love to have our set routines. And when someone disrupts our routine, all hell breaks loose. We don’t want anyone to mess with the way it’s always been done!

Change can sometimes feel like that whole ice bucket challenge that was social media popular. Except it’s like someone doing that to you when you’re enjoying a nice steaming hot shower. It is awful! It shocks the system because it takes you out of your comfort zone.

Since this week’s word is change, consider how you handle change. Consider what types of changes are hardest for you to manage.

What Don’t You Know?

September 20, 2023 / / 0 Comments

There’s an old saying you don’t know what you don’t know. And man is that ever true! I have to be honest there are likely more things that I miss in life than I even realize because I take so many things for granted!

Today I was setting out some logo apparel at the church I serve. Super nice gear if I do say so myself! But if it had been up to me, this never would have happened. I kind of got in a rut with the logo wear for church. It all kind of looked the same. Simple logo on the left chest. Short sleeve polo shirt. Maybe a zip up fleece but that’s about it.

One day a young lady at church pretty much told me I didn’t know what people really wanted. And I could not be happier! I have to say her eye was exactly what was needed. While I was a bit shocked when she said something, I couldn’t be happier that she did.

I got so close to the same old design stuff that I didn’t even realize that it wasn’t something that was of any interest to anyone other than me! I didn’t know what I didn’t know. But am I ever glad that I was able to hear this one!

What don’t you know? A good practice in life is to gather feedback from those around you about what they see and how they’re experiencing things. It’s super easy to get so wrapped up in life that you miss the trees for the sake of the forest.

It’s good to surround yourself with people whose opinions you value. There are three types of people I find helpful to have on a sounding board kind of team.

People beyond you. These are the people who’ve been there, done that. They can speak from experience. They can tell you what worked or didn’t work for them and even better why it did/didn’t worked. Regularly check with these one or two people you value to tell them what they see in you. This might be hard and it takes some vulnerability but it’s super essential!

People beside you. These are colleagues and friends, sometimes family as well. They are the ones who interact with you on a regular basis. Really important here, these are not direct reports. These are peers and people who spend a great deal of time walking alongside you. They know your habits and can spot when something is a bit off. They can often tell when you’re not acting like yourself, even when you can’t even tell it!

People behind you. These are the direct report kind of evaluations. These people see how you interact and often are the recipients of your off days more than anyone else. They can sense when you are not focusing on what matters or when you’re really in the zone. These types of conversations might be hard at first but in time you can build the relationship where they feel comfortable to honestly tell you what you’re not seeing.

You don’t know what you don’t know, so ask a bunch of questions. Invite feedback from people whose opinion you’ll actually listen to! And then listen to it. Adjust when you need to adjust. Give away permission and authority where you need to give it away. And you never know, you might end up with a pretty well designed hoodie out of it!

How Old Are You?

February 10, 2023 / / 0 Comments

There are a few things I know, some from experience and some from common sense. Never ask someone how old they are. Never guess someone’s age. And never, never, I repeat never ask a woman if she’s pregnant – yep even if you are 99.999% sure she is. You are signing your own death certificate in any of those situations.

Ok brevity aside there is a time when age is an important topic to consider. I recently came across a graphic that caught my eye. It was more of a graph than a picture but the details it contained were of some level of interest. What could this mean for me? I’m not a hugely studious person. I do however like to obtain some new information especially if it’s about a topic in which I take interest. This one did just that.

I’m a pastor so this information was pertinent to churches but not just for pastors. Actually I think it’s more intriguing to me as a member of a church than just as a pastor. The graphic contained age breakdowns of different church denominations. Basically it asks what the general age of your church tradition is based on some national study.

Have you ever looked around the church you attend (if you attend one) and evaluated what the general age of the population is? I do this for most places I go. I notice how old people are who eat at the restaurants I frequent. I check the age of the people at the gym during the times I attend. I notice what the average age of the church I serve is and how it fluctuates over time.

Ok so the church body of which I’m a part is listed first. That’s not exactly a good thing in this case. What it says in simple terms is that this Lutheran Church body is made up to a large extent by people who are over 65 years old. and that people 18-44 combined are barely half the percentage of those over 65. It means that this church tradition is getting old and it means we should be asking some serious questions.

Why are there more 65+ year olds than 18 year olds? Why are there so few young people in this church body? Does this reflect the local church that I attend?

These are just a few quick questions that I ask. Now the church I pastor does not fit this mold. As a matter of fact I would almost say our numbers are flipped from these numbers. But why is it that there are so few young people that gravitate toward some of the church traditions that are considered to be more historic mainline traditions?

I think part of it has to do with relevancy. Not the relevancy of Jesus or the Bible. Our job is not to make the Bible or even Jesus relevant. But the work we do as church can be seen as irrelevant by the culture around us if all we do is argue over who does something better, or we’re not using the right book or we don’t dress the right way.

I see a strong desire in the young men and women in the world to want to do more about what they are passionate than to just talk about it. I think this is an area we can learn as churches. We talk about loving Jesus and our neighbors but do we do it with actions? We talk about protecting certain groups of people, but when it comes to the inconvenience of actually lending a hand are we just words?

I think this is a large reason why so many churches are seeing a decline while others are exploding at the seams. Some churches do the hard job of living out what they talk about.

So don’t ask a woman if she’s pregnant or anyone what their age is, but it’s ok to notice the general age groups represented in any given scenario. It’s ok to ask hard questions about why those people are attracted to that type of gathering. And it’s ok to make a few adjustments to be more conscientious toward those groups not represented.

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