Blogging on the Sabbath – a call to digital rest.

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“If you can’t take a nap, if you can’t take a day off, heaven’s going to drive you nuts.” [Mark Driscoll]

I first heard the concept of an ‘electric sabbath’ from Rob Bell during his drops like stars tour. The idea was to have an entire digital shutdown one day a week: No phone, no internet, no email, no streaming.

For some of us, myself included, this feels like shutting down a significant portion of our lives. We are left weightless and wallowing, bumping into walls while we try to remember the basic human mechanics of being AFK (let the nerd understand).

Our digital worlds have become a significant space for intellectual, emotional and social stimuli, and as such we move around them with both personality and identity. We leave digital fingerprints.

These digital fingerprints are unique, because they have been cultivated daily – perhaps even hourly – as some form of organic representation of who we are in this parallel online word. However accurate that representation is, and however tangible we believe that world to be are disputable, but no less a reality. We have basically created an extra limb – one that pulls to us when we don’t use it.

As a blogger with a reasonable online presence, this pulls at me in the ‘waking world’ with quite some insistence.

The refresh button and revisiting the same social media walls becomes an almost unconscious activity. I’ve had whole days when I have neglected the needs of my spirit, family, and work, because my head had been firmly wired into an unguarded twitter comment.

So, I suggest a pact. Let’s give ourselves a digital sabbath. A day away from the crawling needs and desires of our digital realm. I suggest a fast, a time when we climb down from our fickle electric thrones and embrace the wholeness of the world without it.

The irony of this post is that I’m writing it on a Sunday morning. In 45 minutes, I’ll be preaching. Wouldn’t this time have been better spent by… praying, meditating, preparing, talking to my wife, eating breakfast (you fill in the gap).

Growing in closeness to God requires some care taken over spiritual disciplines like praying and Bible reading. For spiritual disciplines to work, however, they require both spirit and discipline. Neither of these can be nurtured entirely without any level of sacrifice or – put another way – fasting.

A fast is saying no to something that our body or our ego needs, in order to recognise the level of dependency that we have in God.

When you’re sat in the office and it’s nearing lunchtime and your stomach is rumbling with anticipation, but then you suddenly remember that you’re fasting, a lead weight drops. You feel a sense of loss and almost desperation. This empty longing is a growth metaphor for how we need to long for God. That’s why fasting exists. We use that feeling and turn it into prayers of dependence on and recognition of who God is – and who we would be without Him.

I have a small, A5 presentation folder that I use for preaching. I’ve had it since I was first at Bible College and saw everyone else using them. I stopped using it almost ten years ago in favour of iPads and my MacBook (the Holy Spirit comes when there’s Apple products on stage right?) Recently, however, I rediscovered my little preaching folder and started using it again.

One of the reasons I use it now is the little inscription on the front page that I put there while in College. It says:

“You have offended God infinitely more than ever a stubborn rebel did his prince – and yet it is nothing but his hand that holds you from falling into the fire every moment.” [Jonathan Edwards, 1703 – 1757]

This is a heavy and somewhat brutal quote that says there is nothing apart from but God and His grace to uphold me  minute by minute. I am not my own, I was bought at a price, and it so important to me to reconnect with Him each day afresh. It’s important for me to recognise the depths from which He has saved me, and more the depths of need I have for Him each day.

That’s why we fast. That’s why we occasional withdraw.

The internet is noisy, and our digital fingerprints pull at us constantly. Perhaps a day off a week is not too much to ask to keep these things in check.

A digital sabbath. I think I might have a go!

 

Photo by Jens Kreuter on Unsplash

 

The Pupil, the Pastor, the Professor, and the dead kitty – A one-act play.

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Scene: The trying -slightly-too-hard-to-be-cool community coffeeshop that’s attached to the local Bible College. Professor and Pastor are making small talk over lattes.

Enter pupil

Pupil – Professor, Pastor, I have a question.

Professor and Pastor, together in excited unison – Of course!

Pupil – My little cat Whiskers died last night. Will I see her again in Heaven?

Pastor – Oh my poor, poor… poor dear. That’s so sad. Aw, no. So sad indeed. Oh dear, my poor dear. I’m so sorry for your loss. Was poor Whiskers in your family a long time? Was it very sudden? Was she in much pain? Oh, I’m so, so sorry my poor dear!

Pupil – Um, thanks Pastor, that’s nice. But you didn’t really answer my question.

Professor – Maybe I can help you my young fruit. No. No you will not. Animals of the feline variety are not human, and thus – like humans – do not have existential existence beyond the finite and physical reality of this world. What you call a ‘Whiskers’ is simply the over-emotional and irrational construct of an inanimate lifeform without a soul or indeed any sense of self. Your attachment to her is delusional and entrenched in the sinfully depraved nature of humanity. You will not see, her or indeed any kitty, puppy, bunny, or even Bulgarian budgie in the eternal rest. You should stop mourning immediately. Perhaps you should repent?

Pupil is in shocked silence with her mouth hanging slightly open, making mumbling starts at trying to speak again.

Pastor – Urm, well, I think what my learned colleague is trying to say is that poor, sad Whiskers, who was such an important part of your life and family, and whose life was tragically cut short, in fact does have a soul, because she was bought to life when you loved her. Your love will continue forever into Heaven, and so your love for poor Whiskers will see her bought to life – resurrected even – in Heaven! She is in a better place because you loved her.

Pupil, raising a finger gently – Oh. Ok… but wh…

Professor (interrupting) – Well, actually, it may be that what Pastor is failing to tell you truthfully, is that your love is a poor, dim reflection of the Creator’s, and so can’t possibly create anything – and especially not in Heaven. What an absurd idea indeed! Your love is sinful, and that damned cat never loved you anyway! No. Whiskers is gone. Dead as a post. Demised, deceased, perhaps decapitated, and gone for ever. She never really ‘was’. Deal with it.

Pastor, turning to Professor and standing – how can you be so insensitive? This poor young girl has lost a treasured member of her family!

Professor, also standing, pushing Pupil aside facing off to Pastor – well how can you be so deceptive. It helps the girl nothing by lying to her!

Professor and Pastor continue in this vein, their voices steadily getting higher and more intense, while the other coffeeshop patrons awkwardly stare intently into their grande mugs.

Pupil slowly slips away unnoticed.

 

Photo by Kilyan Sockalingum on Unsplash

Youth Ministry training and the battle for professionalism. Is it worth it?

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In the red corner, weighing in at -£30,000 (debt that is); a youth ministry professional with certificates, training and qualifications. They boast a long list of module credentials, and a mental catalogue of praxis, quotes and bibliographic data. I give you… the qualified youth worker.

In the blue corner, weighing in at 12 years; a veteran youth worker with three positions under her belt, a plethora of personal stories, and the blood, sweat and tears from more youth camps than you can swing a weasel at. She is… the experienced youth worker.

Let’s get ready to rumble! ‘Ding.’ And there’s the bell, fight!

Who would you put your money on? In what corner would you side?

In a world of middle-grounds, we know that the balanced approach is to do both – to gain as much experience as possibly while sitting some formal training; or at least remaining actively teachable while on the job. In reality, however, very few Christian youth workers in the UK are trained to degree level, most having worked their way up through the volunteering ranks without academic accountability. Are they missing something?

Breaking inside the bubble

To those outside the formal training bubble, a degree is little more than ‘a bit of paper.’ They can’t possibly know what they’re missing, however, because they’re missing it. I’ve met youth workers who strongly feel the absence of training and regret missing out, and I’ve met resentful youth workers who have been passed over for better jobs because of their lack of training.

It’s this latter group that tend to get under my skin, because there is an inherent arrogance to assuming you know something without actually studying it. There’s also a mean spiritedness to assuming that those who did chose to study did so only to tick a box, and didn’t actually have to work hard.

The problem, of course is that those who say you don’t need formal training tend to be those without it, and those who say you do, tend to be those with it.

I’m going to see if I can list off some pros and cons of training when applied to the youth ministry work world and see where it fits in alongside developing experience.

There are some anomalous factors that I’m not going to be able to factor in here. For instance, some training centres are just better than others, and some jobs provide far broader contexts for experience-based-learning too. I’m hoping, however, that by the end we’ll see a little bit more of the value of both perspectives and – all cards on the table – I hope we’ll consider formal training options more seriously than statistics would say that we do.

Qualifications and Training Pros and Cons

Pros

You look at topics objectively outside the realm of responsibility – so you find yourself safely out of your depths. I.e. nobody gets hurt if you get it wrong!

You are encouraged to critically engage with a wide range of different ministry opinions. By being presented with a spectrum of views, you will be able make clearer decisions on what works and what doesn’t. As a result, you become less likely to simply run after the ‘new thing’.

All practice becomes reflective practice. Everything you do and experience gets put under the microscope of analysis, making you more considered and careful in your approaches.

You do much of your thinking in community. You learn to measure voices in a room and be sharpened by others. Being taught in community simply makes you more teachable – which means that you’ll learn more!

You learn to ask more questions. Without asking questions, formal study just doesn’t work. You learn to become analytical of both your own thought-processes and the ideas that surround you. Granted, sometimes this is just to get a higher mark, but a higher mark means more critical engagement, better understanding, and clearer, more coherent communication. It’s worth it!

You learn to ask better questions. You start to draw a straight line between the information that you need and the best way to get at it. You are able to dig deeper, find roots, and simply be a clearer thinker as a result.

You get formal recognition. Having a degree is not simply ‘having a piece of paper.’ Anyone who says that simply doesn’t understand the accreditation process. A degree means you have been held accountable to a strictly measured standard, so you actually leave with a base level of learning. This is why a degree is so valuable – it tells your potential employer that you have been rigorously tested and have hit the mark.

You stick at it! Because you invested in a foundation, you’re much more likely to stick around the long haul.

Cons

You act like a jerk. Ok, not always, but I often talk about ‘First-year At Recognised Theological-college Syndrome’ or FARTS. When you have spent a year with people far smarter and more considered then you, you then it’s easy to adopt their approach verbatim as if you had actually spent the all years developing it yourself. You start to sound cocky, but without the substance to back it up. Real people become theological targets for you to practices your swings, and the heart gets clogged up in ‘doctrinal accuracy.’

You can become arrogantly unpliable. Some training (although usually truer for non-accredited courses) only teaches you their method – and subtly inoculates you against all others. You see things in isolation and therefore don’t allow for the possibility of how a given context could need you to change your approach. This is even more difficult if that approach is something your college told you was wrong.

Debate becomes the de facto way to discuss. There are many human skills that you can unlearn when in a vacuum of people who debate theology and practice all day. Normal friendly conversation with different types of people is one of them.

You become prepared theoretically without being prepared practically. When I left Bible College for the first time, I was ready to write a Bible study, but not lead one; I was ready to prepare a strategy, but not execute it; I was ready to think about death, but not sit in hospital with a bereaved parent. There are some things that training just doesn’t train you for.

It’s expensive. You’ll be paying for training for a while, and I’m not connived that colleges really need to charge all that they do. Saying that, with less people choosing training options, the price does tend to suffer for the few who do.

So, is training worth it?

I absolutely think it is. Experience will round and shape you over the years, but a foundational time of rigorous study is a gold-mine. Very few people who say they will study ‘later’ actually do. Also, of the many youth workers who begin their work career without formal training, even fewer stick around after their first contract.

Training fills in gaps that you wouldn’t otherwise know need filling. Training teaches you a way to think critically and in community. Training also helps you focus your efforts during the building of experience. I believe that experience post-training builds into helpful experience quicker, with fewer mistakes, than experience without training. There’s just less running around in the dark!

Training is not the same as experience, and it cannot replace it, but securing a solid foundation is going to be gold when you have the experience to go with it. It’s both-and not either-or, but if you have the choice, don’t skip training.

 

Photo by Victor Freitas on Unsplash

 

Find this interesting? Check out let’s stop telling future youth ministers to skip training, for a slightly rantier version!

Is critical thinking the same as overthinking? Some self-indulgent epistemological musings.

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Sometimes critical thinking is ignored, shunned, mocked, or worse, flat out rejected as overthinking. However, in a world of fake news, tabloid drama, and social media reporting – critical thinking just couldn’t be more important. Dismissing genuine critical engagement with ideas as overthinking is more than biting the hand that feeds, it’s covering it in ketchup first.

I’ve been accused of overthinking many times – and at least fourteen-point-six-two-percent of those times it’s been true. I am a critical thinker, and I’m an over-thinker. I’m a muser, and I’m a worrier. I evaluate hard, and I panic hard! As Nike’s famous slogan says: Just do it… and freak out a lot over it while you’re at it.

There is, however, a significant difference between critical thinking and over thinking, and equating them as one and the same can do some real violence to truth.

We need to process the world carefully – and we need to teach our kids to do the same. So, let’s give these ideas some critical thought… and try not to overthink it!

What’s the difference?

Starting with definitions, critical thinking is applying slow and deliberate questioning to a given idea. It carefully dissects, deconstructs, and reconstructs a given proposition, moving it through stages of doubt and dialogue. It usually follows some kind of objective method, or at least asks a series of probing questions. It challenges and it pokes. Critical thinking – at least for it to work best – requires us to suspend our beliefs to some degree.

Over thinking, however, is trying desperately to make something work the way we think it should.

So overthinking is the weird one here. We often think of overthinking as just getting stuck in a web of extraneous detail, giving ourselves headaches, and subsequently needing a stiff drink or a good boxset-a-thon. Overthinking, we would say, is what keeps us awake and ties us in knots. We see overthinking as over-complicating an issue, thus muddying the waters and losing the clarity.

That, however, is not strictly overthinking – it’s just poor thinking.

Thinking crudely, shoddily, weakly, negligently, or unskilfully are all traits of being human. And it sucks! Sometimes we get bored, sometimes we’re just tired, or need to pee. Sometimes our computers just run out of mental ram or need an emotional update. And, awkward but true, some computers just run better than others for certain tasks.

You can totally get swallowed up in a sticky web of uneconomic thought processes – but this is just not the same as when people mistakenly call critical thinking over thinking.

Agenda-driven overthinking

In reality, overthinking has an agenda, or – put another way – it puts the cart before the horse.

Overthinking starts with a hypothesis and then, rather than testing it, it tries to blindly prove it, bending all data to fit it, and rejecting all data against it. This kind of overthinking clutches at straws, gets (quite literally) mentally hysterical, and loses reason to emotion dressed up in clever sounding prose. It’s usually at this point in a debate, that the increasingly stuck ‘over-thinker’ accuses the critical thinker of over thinking. Go figure. This, btw, is one of the many reasons why debates are such a horribly poor tool to arrive at truth.

Overthinking can also be driven by fear. Worries that something could happen become the subversive agenda of the overthinker, so staying up late at night running possibilities around your head. That too, however, is still agenda-driven – even if in the negative. Usually the best way out of this is to surrender the agenda, rather than digging in. But oh boy does that take some emotional maturity and – I don’t know about you – but I wasn’t taught how to do that in school.

The showstopper conversational killer

Oftentimes, trying to properly evaluate an issue using critical engagement in order to arrive at a careful, or even more nuanced opinion, is simply rejected by the broad-brush conversation stopper: ‘Man, you’re just overthinking it!’

What do you say after that? ‘No, sir, I’m just trying to think carefully and constructively about the issue?’ Good luck. The roadblock is now up, and any further reasoning will be dismissed, filtered cavalierly through the ‘overthinking it’ lens.

A personal parable

I was once told that I was overthinking by suggesting the context of pagan worship practices had something to tell us about the classically interpreted ‘homosexuality passages.’ As proper worship contrasted against idolatrous worship is the backdrop of both Lev. 18 and Rom. 2, I felt that this might have been important to consider when looking at the verses within it – whichever way one comes down on the issue.

I wasn’t necessarily in disagreement with my accusers’ conclusions, however, they told me flat out that I was overthinking, and thus probably wrong. They believed it was black-and-white, and that the original context shouldn’t factor into the interpretation if it could possibly soften or slightly redirect our classical reading. They didn’t want their strong convictions nuanced by burdensome grey areas; at least not while they felt ‘on the spot.’

I actually think it was they who were guilty of overthinking by rejecting data that didn’t fit into their established opinions. If the issue lined up with a different set of convictions, I imagine they wouldn’t have responded the way they did. They would talk context all day, for instance, if someone drew a similar black-and-white application out of slavery in the Bible; but that wasn’t the issue on the table, and it wasn’t the direction of their agenda.

This is exactly the issue though, it’s our established opinions that need to be temporarily suspended when thinking critically. It’s OK, God won’t stop being God, the world won’t fall apart, and they’ll still be there when finish.

I think what was happening in my conversation was that the person was receiving new information on the fly, wasn’t able to process it safely, and didn’t want to lose any ground. That’s fair – and it’s also human. They lashed out from their own overthinking by accusing me of the same.

That’s what overthinking is, a tenuous house of cards built in the wrong direction and without a foundation, and unable to support its weight in critical conversation. Straw men will fall all day to overthinking, but a real independent dialogue partner won’t. Something has to give.

The battle for truth in conversations

Exegesis should never be held to ransom by our hard-headed opinions. Truth should never have to defend itself against emotional violence dressed up in a logic-suit. That’s why critical thinking is so essential.

The big difference is that overthinking comes with baggage. It has an axe to grind, a dragon to slay, or a point to prove. Overthinking is also human, it comes with stories, history, and experiences that can’t be so easily shaken. Learning to think critically in the wake of our own fragile and burdensome cognitive humanity is just hard work – however it is a skill that needs to be developed, and we owe it to the world to try.

Critical thinking attempts to suspend as much subjective assumptions as possible and arrive at the table as neutral as possible. As cold as that sounds, it’s actually this which gives the real ground for compassion and humanity in dialogue. Think about it:

  • Real critical thinking in conversation requires room for processing time.
  • Real critical thinking in conversation requires genuine active listening and real conversation. Remember that active listening is taught as the temporary ‘suspension of judgement’.
  • Real critical thinking in conversation requires genuine understanding for the person you are talking to, not just the category of opinion they hold.
  • Real critical thinking in conversation requires more colours than just black and white.
  • Real critical thinking in conversation requires movement, nuance and subtlety.
  • Real critical thinking in conversation requires an observance of the journey, not just the consequences.
  • Real critical thinking in conversation requires time, understanding, movement, and great care.
  • Real critical thinking in conversation remembers that we’re’re not God, and that suspending opinions and truth doesn’t make the world fall down.

The epistemological dance between two critical thinkers

I’m a huge believer that critical thinking provides a real epistemological romance. There is a dance to be had between two independent people who disagree but possess actual ability to sharpen, inform, and even disagree in a way that genuinely builds up.

I think we, as evangelical Christians, can be a bit rubbish at genuine critical thinking. It’s one of the many reasons that were so tribalistic. But just maybe if we put down our guns and our axes for a minute, grabbed some perspective and some compassion, we might find so much more communication between our hearts and our brains – then maybe we’ll connect better with other people’s hearts and brains. Then maybe – just maybe – we’ll stop overthinking, and dig ourselves out of this increasingly polarising, tribal rut.

So, let’s ask more questions than we give answers.
Let’s stay teachable and pliable.
Let’s trust God rather than our own compounded and collected opinions.
Let’s reach wider and dig deeper.
Let’s not assume we are the smartest people in the room.
Let’s not have practice arguments with straw men while talking to ourselves in the car.
Let’s not rush truth.
Let’s talk to humans as humans.
Let’s ditch the Western tradition of debate.
Let’s dance together with real brain and heart power.
Let’s think critically.

Overthought rant over.

 

Photo by Skye Studios on Unsplash

 

Did you enjoy this self indulgent ramble about how we think and talk? Well it’s a bit of a bugbear of mine, so you might enjoy a few other places of venting on it too:

– Are you addicted to controversy?
– Ethics, Critical Thinking, and Youth Ministry
– Epistemology of Youth Ministry

And one by my wife

– Phenomenology, Faith, and Young People

 

What to do in the first three months of a new youth work job

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This won’t be a popular answer, but you should do nothing. Well, almost nothing.

I was recently at a conference where I overheard a new youth worker tell another youth worker that she was struggling in her brand-new position. The second youth worker’s advice was ‘change as much as you can as quickly as you can.’ I felt like banging my head against the wall… or I felt like banging someone’s head against the wall anyway.

One of the main reasons that youth workers don’t find traction in new positions is that they fly in like superman with brand-spanking new shiny ideas and a completely out-of-context, duck-out-of-water leadership style to boot. Whereas some will see this as a novelty and will try to get behind it, most will treat the over-excited new guy with a healthy level of scepticism.

So slow down puppy.

For your first few months you need to build.  Build credibility (no your CV did not do that), build trustworthiness, build respect, build confidence, and – of course – build relationships. You’re also building up information and research, so the actual changes you’ll make later will sit on something much more like solid ground.

So, here’s my short list of what you should do in your first three months instead:

1. Watch everything

Go to each ministry project that the church or ministry runs. Visit all the homegroups and services. Attend training and meetings. Don’t get stuck into to serving, just watch. Watch, look, listen, and take notes. You’re trying to breathe the culture in, put your finger on the pulse and find the heart (or hearts) of the ministry. Don’t waste this time of watching as a relatively objective outsider – you won’t get it back later.

2. Keep a journal everywhere

Note down some thoughts after every event. Ideally do this under four headings. 1. Who did what when and where? 2. What did I like/do I think worked? 3. What did I not like/do I think didn’t work? 4. Anything else of note? Keep this journal private but do fill it in regularly.

3. Talk to everyone

Accept every dinner invitation and go out for so many coffees that you start to shake. Ask impertinent questions, get people to tell you their stories, and listen actively to what they say. Talk to local schools and government. Talk to other churches and project workers. Make notes in your journal afterwards and reflect. Ask lots and lots of questions – of everyone. Try to withhold judgement and keep the pieces in tension. You’re trying to sense a flavour of people, not just gather facts.

4. Change nothing

Don’t just jump in with your new ideas, learn to listen for the heartbeat. This will build you a foundation that you’ll be able to build solidly on for years to come. Not only does this build you some much needed trustworthiness, but it also gives you the space and information that you’ll need to plan healthily.

How to do this in reality

This starts at interview! You need to make clear that this is your plan for the first quarter, so the ‘interim’ staff or volunteers can’t just pack up and leave in lieu of the new guy coming in. Make sure the pastor or team leader communicates this to the church, teams, and eldership before you start. Then you can hit the ground running by not actually having to run. Winner.

 

Photo by Jonathan Klok on Unsplash

Are you called to ministry? The fundamental question.

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Who do you want to serve?

The greatest commandment says to love God with every ounce and fibre of your being and it says to love other people like you do yourself (Matt. 22:36-40).

Basically…

Do you love God and love others?

Or

In reality – do you want to serve your own needs?

  • Do you want to minster the great love of Jesus to the great needs of broken people?
  • Are you so moved in praise and heartfelt gratitude to God that this overflows in a Jesus-like passion for others?
  • Do you recognise that people are flawed and vulnerable, and need the message of the Gospel to dwell in them richly as a grace-and-mercy response to their lives?
  • Are you overwhelmed with the story of the Cross to the point that if you don’t call it out of others, you’ll dry up into a nothingness husk?

Or

  • Are you most passionate about ‘fixing people’s theology’ and ‘rooting out the heretic’?
  • Do you see facts, figures, viewpoints, doctrines, worldviews, and belief systems before you see real actual people holding them?
  • Are you looking to scratch an itch that allows you to read all day and show off your knowledge at the weekends?
  • Do you want to create an audience for your teaching or debate abilities?
  • Are you thinking more about God than you are worshipping God?

What about the ‘ministry qualifications’ from Titus and Timothy?

Titus 1 and 1 Timothy 3 both give fabulous qualifications for ministry, but these are for after you have established the initial passion and drive which we traditionally call ‘calling’.

Calling is a fundamental move of the Holy Spirit in your life that wells up as a desire to fulfil the great commandment and live it out in the great commission. It is supported by grace and driven by mercy. It begins in humility and grows deep roots of dependence on God for all you need.

Your CV won’t get you into ministry; God will get you into ministry. Ministry is a miracle calling which God produces and provides. At interview, your heart for, and relationship with Him is what should bleed through. Your experience and qualifications are simply the evidence of that heart. They are the smoke to the fire of God.

Ambition vs. Calling

Ambition for ministry is not the same thing as calling to ministry. Start with these few questions:

  • Do I love God?

How is that love manifest in my life?

 

  • Do I love Jesus Christ, as God?

How does the story of the cross dwell in me personally?

 

  • Do I love the Holy Spirit, as God?

What dependency do I show Him every day I live?

 

  • Do I love the Father, as God?

What would I do and how would I live as a response to His will?

 

  • Do I love ‘non-Christian’ people?

Do I primarily see them as human beings needing the mercy of God?

 

  • Do I love Christian people?

Do I see them as human beings on a careful and precarious journey of grace?

 

  • Do I love people who agree with me?

Do I use them as a comfort and support for my ego?

 

  • Do I love people who disagree with me?

Am I willing to push through the thin veil of human worldviews and see the life of Christ and needs of the flesh within them?

 

  • Do I love people?

Do I want them to know and experience the same love of God that I know and experience?

 

Photo by Nathan Bingle on Unsplash

57 random suggestions for new pastors

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Love people more than you love books.

Teach the people you have, not the people you wish you had.

Ask questions. lots and lots of questions.

Hang out with other pastors.

Spend time with the children.

Pray more for people than you talk about people.

Knowing things that should make you a better preacher, won’t necessarily make you a better preacher.

If you are not seeking God’s voice, you cannot share God’s Word.

Placating difficult personalities rarely makes things easier.

Neither does just ‘letting them have it’.

You cannot be all things to all people… That’s not what that verse means.

If your prayer meetings are empty, it doesn’t matter how full your services are.

You can’t look after a congregation if you’re not looking after your family.

You can’t look after your family alone.

Preachers on youtube are not the best model for pastoral ministry.

Training is not just for ‘other people’.

Training alone does not prepare you completely.

Let people serve – even if you can do it better than them.

Train people – even if it’s easier to just do it yourself.

Sing worship like your life depends on it. It probably does.

Plan your time around the priorities the Holy Spirit lays on your heart. If you don’t – other people will plan your time around their priorities.

See your job description as something that should be fulfilled by year 5, not day 1.

Leave 10% of your time ‘free’ for growth that will come later. Don’t ever commit to something to simply make up the hours.

Don’t hold grudges.

Take people bowling.

Keep your office tidy.

Take your days off, and disconnect. No email or phone.

Plan Sundays where you are part of the congregation and not leading anything.

Avoiding conflict doesn’t actually avoid conflict.

Avoiding conflict doesn’t actually make life easier.

Avoiding conflict usually creates more conflict.

Treat volunteers professionally, and hold them to agreed standards.

Find a small group of people who serve and dedicate most of your time to them. Then get them to dedicate their time to others.

Love your Bible. Really really love it.

Welcome criticism, but disregard most of it.

Find people you trust to give criticism that you won’t disregard (and not just people who agree with you).

Pray like your life depends on it. It probably does.

Don’t see prayer as a function of ministry, but as an expression of relationship.

Don’t be afraid of getting things wrong. You were never made to be perfect – in fact, God tends to get more glory when you’re not.

Bring Jesus and the Gospel into every debate – see all disagreements in light of a Christ context.

Find a new hobby.

Stay healthy. Eat well, sleep consistently, exercise regularly.

Look after your youth worker. Be involved with what they do – volunteer for ‘their’ ministry.

Bring your administrator doughnuts.

Spend more time with people than you do alone in your office.

Spend time alone in your office.

Read good books about being a pastor by people who have done it for years in small churches, not brand new megachurches – for instance Eugene Peterson’s, The Contemplative Pastor

Help people to pray.

Ask for prayer often.

Love what you do. Or stop doing it.