The Development Cycle

If you were to “google” the word “development,” particularly in the context of church or the nonprofit world, you are likely to get numerous hits for discussions involving financial stewardship, endowments, and the like. But as a self-professed ministry developer, “development” has a different meaning to me. It means the development and empowerment of new ministers—ministers throughout the full spectrum of however that minister and the minister’s ministries might evolve.

For many years I have spoken to others in the financial planning sector of the empowerment of individuals as financial decision-makers and planners through education: empowerment through building the confidence of individuals in the ability to make wise decisions. A little education and knowledge can build highly empowered individuals who do not “freeze” when it comes to making a decision about their own financial situations and now have the confidence to make prudent decisions. I now translate that same concept to the ministry development world—my new world professionally for more than three years now and arguably much longer in truth.

I recently attended the 2013 Living Stones Partnership meeting, at which ministry developers join to discuss concerns, brainstorm about new ideas, and share ministry celebrations and “aha” moments. My greatest “aha” moment, however, was not in the midst of a formal meeting or presentation. Instead, it was the moment that I realized that, yes, I am a ministry developer in all that I do, regardless of my professional title, the function I am performing, etc.

On meeting me for the first time, another colleague asked me the simple question: “Are you a ministry developer?” It was a simple question, but oh so enlightening to me on so many levels. As I started to respond, I suddenly realized that I am a ministry developer in every way that I approach my callings, whether they be professional, personal, or otherwise. I get a “high” from empowering and developing the gifts of and in others. And, frankly, I cannot identify when that first was the case; it has been the case long before I “became one” professionally in the mountains and hamlets of Western Maryland.

So how did that come to be? I honestly don’t know. But I certainly have been spending quite a bit of time mulling over that question the past two weeks since my return. Not sure if I will find an answer, but I do know that it has led me to another realization: the self-empowerment of the ministry developer.

At the same meeting, I also received one of the first two certificates in ministry development awarded by the Ministry Development Collaborative and the Living Stones Partnership. On receiving that certificate, in the midst of my friends and professional colleagues, I suddenly felt empowered—confident—in my gifts as a ministry developer. I was no more qualified then than I was five minutes earlier, but I felt different. I now found myself on multiple points on the ministry development spherical continuum, as it circled back to empower and support me once again in this ministry. And as it will continue to empower and support me as I continue in this great work. Wow! I cannot wait to see what’s next! This ministry development stuff sure is a powerful thing.

Theresa

Learning the Traditions

As a ministry developer, I rely greatly on the energy and needs of the congregations that I serve to determine where I need to devote my energy, what can be a collaborative effort, and what can be delegated to others. As a part-time vicar for two churches—and ¼ time at each—I must do that. For reasons of good self-care and modeling the key principles of the ministry of all baptized—not to mention—pure practicability—it is a necessity.

This being my first Christmas season as their vicars, versus a developer traveling from church to church,  I must be cognizant of the potential burnout for folks as the parishes try to do all that they have always done, particularly during this season of preparation and anticipation. As Advent progresses and we approach Christmas, I am becoming increasingly aware of the myriad of traditions that my two churches have for the Advent and Christmas seasons. I am also discovering that many of these traditions are quite time-intensive to continue.

These traditions are ingrained in the memories and hearts of the people and not up for negotiation. When people walk through the church doors on December 24^th, they better see the same twinkling and inspirationally magical view that they have seen each year this night for many decades.

I agree. It is an inspirational moment for us all, as we finally feel like it is Christmas. And we can even say “Merry Christmas” without the angst of doing so out of season or even being culturally insensitive. It is truly special.

But as I see the spinning wheels and hear the ever-increasing list of decorations and “musts” for each of the churches—each of which has totally different lists—I wonder about whether we are missing the point of the season. The ever-faithful few who do all of the work make sure that Christmas happens exactly as it has for the past 50 years. The same dozens or so of family members who appear for their annual church visit are mesmerized by the beauty and emotion. They ooh and ah, and they leave the area again a few days later, never seeing how beautiful the church and the people are when we are doing church and not a special holiday “performance.”

All of this has me wondering: Do we decorate and do all of these traditional things for ourselves, so we can finally immerse ourselves in the beauty after the frantic race to get it all done? Are we doing this as a gift to those family members and friends who appear for church once or twice a year for Christmas and possibly Easter? More importantly, do we do this to honor, celebrate and remember the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ? Or are we too exhausted and busy to notice or care anymore?

Those are the questions that keep me awake at night and distracted by day. I cannot answer them, as I have my own memories of traditions and customs from the dozens of churches of which I have been a member through the years. These are not my traditions. I am an outsider; even if I love these traditions, they will never be mine, for I lack the lineage to own them. Only my loyal flock can answer these important questions--that much I know. But I wonder whether they ever stop to ask these questions as well, and how they might answer them. The reality is: I will never know.

I suspect that these traditions are important as a means of hospitality to others, as well as an act in reverence to God and Christ. If I were to move away and return again in 20 years, I expect that I would enjoy the same beauty and views that I will see December 24 of this year. And perhaps that is okay. I guess that is all part of the preparation and anticipation. It also is all about our love for our holiday visitors and, more importantly, for God.

Theresa

Discernment

As a ministry developer, my vocabulary often centers around the words “call” and “discern” or variations on either term. I prod the people in the pews on Sundays and the people whom I counsel throughout the week to consider God’s call on them and their lives. I companion them, with pokes and prods, to discern what those calls might be. I suggest—with puzzled looks from my strongly extroverted companions—that they listen with full hearts and minds. Their quizzical expressions become even more so as I speak of the differences between listening and hearing, and as I speak of listening for the nonverbal clues to what is “really” being said.

Perhaps it is my “sensory” nature, but collecting information is a parallel activity to all that I do. Perhaps it also is natural that discernment is a constant activity for me as well. Recently, at least, it seems to be something that I am doing more proactively as well. Like the biblical prophets, I ask God repeatedly for “whats” and “hows” and sometimes even some “whys.”  The “whys” particularly coming when I find God is stretching me or showing a sense of humor.

But in the current midst of the flurry of activity, I sense a strong need for some peace—a brief respite for me to collect my thoughts and to shield me from the distractions of service. In essence, I am seeking a respite to allow time for discernment.

Although not well timed—they never are I realize—I got such an opportunity over the weekend. A spiritual retreat of silence, spiritual direction and scripture for three hours in a neighboring state. Three hours that I desperately needed. Three hours that I could devote to listening and being silent so I might hear God’s voice and feel God’s touch on my heart and soul. It was during that brief retreat that I wrote the following haiku, which I share now as I realize it speaks to my own need for continued discernment.

And, yes, God, I am listening. I await your direction.

Beauty surrounds me

In the leaves and in the mountains

The wonderous colors.

But the real beauty

Is in the faces of friends

Their smiles, tears and eyes.

Eyes that twinkle bright

Aware of the love of God

In all that I see.

A hand that is held

An arm embracing another

Empathetic love.

Being a pastor

Allows beauty to enter the soul.

Oh what a blessing!

I am so thankful

God gifted me this present

Of serving others.

I in creation

All part of the Father’s world

Let me see the joy.

Immerse me, oh God

In the beauty of service

Planting grace and love.

Allow me to serve

How you so intend me to

And to hear your voice.

Do I hear clearly?

Do I discern your great call?

Or hear my own will?

Weed out distractions

So I might hear you clearly

And bravely obey.

Theresa

Bread of Life in the Midst of Vulnerability and Self-Doubts

We now are in the midst of a series of lectionary readings that dwell on the “bread of life” imagery found in the Gospel of John. Overlapping scripture passages are found in the selected readings, yet we also move forward from physical hunger in the story of the feeding of the 5,000 to spiritual feeding as in the “bread of life” imagery.

All this in the midst of being a ministry developer working with multiple churches and thus dealing with multiple deaths, losses, and changes as the needs cross church and community boundaries. As I call one parishioner to offer a visit and the sharing of the Holy meal, I learn of still another tragedy impacting an additional parishioner. I turn on the television for my weekly one-hour fix with a soon-to-end television series, only to experience another death. The fact that the television program is not reality makes no difference; I still feel the heart pangs of loss.

I live and work and serve within the midst of heartbreak and challenges. I am to be the strong calming influence for those around me. I listen to another tearful story. I pray for wholeness of body and spirit. I seek the strength to listen, be, and support yet another person in need—a person who for that moment needs undivided focus on his or her needs, not the needs of others across the other church communities that I serve.

I encourage parishioners to take care of self; yet, I admit that I struggle to practice what I preach. How do I explain to one church community my need for self care when the community sees only a thin slice of who I am and what I do. They see me only when I am serving them. Are they jealous when I am seen serving others or, even carving out time for myself? What runs through their minds when I have a conflict between my multiple charges and have to “choose” one over the other, even if I made the other commitment first?

All of these are challenges to be sure. I raise them here as part of the sharing of my “diary,” with great risk I know. I am just as vulnerable as each of the persons and communities that I serve. I cry inside when they are crying. I lose sleep wondering how to be a better shepherd on our joint pilgrimage journey; I wonder if I am doing it okay. I am sure that the answers to that last question are as varied as there are people answering.

So I guess it all comes down to this: What does Jesus want? And where that answer is unclear, am I listening for the guidance that I need to hear? I pray that “yes, I am.” I cannot be all things to all people, but I certainly can look to God and let God provide the tools to do that which is life giving and offer the companioning as we seek the “bread of life” that Jesus promises. I must let go; I must let God. Perhaps revealing my vulnerability is not such a bad thing after all.

Theresa

Resourceful, Resilient and Patient

The national and regional media assured that all were aware of the major electrical power outage that affected the Mid-Atlantic and other regions last week, just in time for the July 4 holiday and the heavy vacation season. Western Maryland was one of the affected regions, with the outages ranging from minutes to several days. Except for our concern for those dependent on electric power for oxygen or other medical needs, however, the more pressing concern was the unusually hot weather that simultaneously blanketed the region. We wanted to make sure that those with or without power had the resources that they needed to stay cool and healthy during this dangerously long and hot heat wave.

Which brings me to the confirmations I have received over the past week or so as a result of this experience. We rural residents in Western Maryland and the adjoining states continue to be resourceful, resilient and patient. As I called friends and parishioners offering them a shower or other relief from the heat and power outage, I repeatedly received responses assuring me that they were “fine.” They had moved their freezer stashes to the freezers of relatives or friends. They had already gone to a friend’s house for a much-needed shower. They had managed to find the old cook stove that did a nifty job at heating up the limited food that they were able to salvage from the now lukewarm refrigerators. All with “thank yous” and minimal (if any) complaints. I received no takers from my family members, friends or colleagues. Friends help friends. Family help family. That is what life in these parts is all about.

But I had two more reminders of this resilient and patient nature. One was an article in the July 6 issue of The Globe and Mail by Adrian Morrow, “Storm-ravaged West Virginia makes the case for a smart grid.”  Morrow’s article reflected his conversations with residents of my neighboring state, West Virginia. As he noted, the common attitude was that “[m]ost people, it seems, are prepared to make the best of the situation.” Not news to me, but I wonder if this would be true of others outside the Appalachian region, where we are accustomed to waiting and know that impatience serves no real purpose. The wait will be just as long, so we might as well make the best of things.

The other came last Sunday, as my church lost power when a pole-based breaker affecting only the church tripped, causing us to be without power for about 24 hours, including the time scheduled for Sunday services. So, what did we do?

Well, first we prepared to worship in darkness, finding flashlights and looking over the music to determine if any changes might be needed for our unaccompanied singing. But on learning that the rectory was spared the loss, everyone grabbed prayer books and hymnals. Some also carted over altar-ware or chairs. We set up for church in a matter of minutes. Worship occurred in a tiny dining room, followed by coffee hour in the even smaller kitchen. Within minutes, we set up; in approximately the same period, we had it all back again in order.

What resilience! What a volunteer spirit! And nary a complaint out of any one. In fact, as I started worship, thanking everyone for being so flexible, the voice of a retired priest’s daughter chimed in with an upbeat message that let me know no thanks were needed. And you know, she is exactly right! We can do church and be church most anywhere, and without a second thought about the whys or whats. The wonders of rural ministry is one of the best kept secrets I know; if only others knew what they were missing.

Theresa

St. Francis Day Reflections

While other clergy are busy with special “blessing of the animals” services in their parishes, I reflect on the fact that I live in the middle of God’s creation as a missioner in Western Maryland. It seems so very appropriate that I reflect on the locations of the churches with which I work on this, the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi.

As I look at the membership listing for the Living Stones Partnership--a partnership of dioceses, seminaries and other communities of faith involved in local ministry (see http://livingstonespartnership.org)—I realize that what led us to appreciate local ministry connects us in another manner. And that is our respective settings—our beautiful environs. Each partner holds claim to being located in “God’s country,” knowing full well that what we say and what we do are two very different things. We seem to have that unique appreciation for our environment and for the fact that we live on earth, on loan from our creator, loving God. Thus, at the very core we are a partnership of communities of faith with a sense of creation and our need to preserve it at all costs.

And that generally means living more simply and more responsibly. It also means being self-sufficient.

Living Stones in many ways is not just a partnership of communities of faith involved in local ministry. We are a partnership of communities of faith that, for various reasons, understand local ministry and the “ministry of all baptized.”  We are communities of faith with smaller parish memberships, parishes located more distant from each other and particularly more distant from institutions of higher religious education. We look to ourselves and to each other to solve problems. We look to each other for leadership. More importantly, we look to each other for the tapping and growing of gifts—giftedness from God for God, for the community and for each other.

We are adept at gifts identification, particularly in others, even though we may be hard-pressed to identify them in ourselves. The Appalachian, (or mid-western, or New England, or other) pride and humility, all wrapped into one, accounts for our unwillingness to self-identify. 

Sounds very Christ-like now that I think of it—Christ never tooted his own horn, and he certainly did not teach his disciples to do so either! Instead, he guided his followers as a shepherd, a companion and a gentle and prodding teacher.

Hmmm…perhaps I have discovered something about ourselves worth pondering further. The “ministry of all baptized” model grows out of humility and gifts identification in others in many ways. But it also grows out of a sense of independence—not one where we don’t need and help others. Heavens, we are the first to bring a home-baked pie or cake to a sick friend or pick up the phone to pass along a prayer chain message! But it is a sense of independence that gives us the fortitude to trudge on and keep to the pilgrim journey—a journey of life-long learning, seeking counsel from neighbor and friend, and helping neighbor and friend in doing what Christ taught us was and is Church—Church in the world, doing ministry. Ministry in the world, in the valley gaps and on the mountain tops. Ministry side by side along the pilgrim path.

Theresa

Autumn Reflections

I am blessed to live and work in the mountains of Maryland, where fall means brilliantly colored trees, followed by a flurry of raking as the leaves fall from the trees, decorating the yards and fields.  And all while dealing with the ever-growing grass that seems to peek out between the colored leaves that dot my yard. I am graced with a full palette of color and textures of moist grass and drying leaves as I travel the roads of western Maryland.

It also is a time when activity seems to peak within the churches and communities. Fall festivals attract people from far and near, bringing visitors to the region, competing for hotels and restaurants with the college students and their alums. Churches compete with each other with harvest dinners of turkey and ham, accompanied by homemade cakes and pies. Fresh apple butter smeared on homemade bread or biscuits is a treat that I particularly enjoy this time of year.

Church doors and windows close to keep out the chill, and church attendance increases as people return to school and work. Each week is like a homecoming as people catch up with each other and what all they have been doing the past few months.

The musty smell of furnaces being lit to take away the evening chill remind us that winter weather is swiftly approaching. The so-called lazy days of summer are gone, and the days when we wall ourselves up inside are not yet upon us. We approach our lives as if this were our last chance for community before the uncertainty of bad weather haunts us once again.

My question is: Where do people find this new-found energy? As a missioner and ministry developer, I seem to be out of step with everyone else. I love the smells and tastes of autumn, but I frankly find that the life of a ministry developer is quite exhausting this time of year. Church activities are at a high, and I am still recovering from the task of filling in for all of the vacationing clergy over the past three months. I hate cold weather, so I certainly don’t look forward to that, but I find myself wistful for the slower pace of winter (other than Advent and Christmas and Lent, of course!).

Hmmm. Perhaps it just means that I have my work cut out for me—ministry development in sync with the development and training of new ministers! I think I finally got it—so watch out folks! This ministry developer is now on the prowl to deputize more ministers to help with this wonderful task of doing church in Western Maryland. Don’t say I did not warn you!

Theresa

Springtime Amnesia

Oh, the pleasures of springtime in rural Western Maryland! The church yards and unpaved roads may be muddy from the nearly-daily rain, but (alas!) we begin to enter our annual amnesia of the hazards of travel during the less pleasant (at least for me!) periods of ice and snow.

The women’s groups may now resume their monthly meetings. We can plan other evening activities as well. Unlike our urban and suburban church friends, our activities ramp up, instead of slowing down.

Sure, the churches with young children slow down and stop having children’s activities because of soccer, softball, and camping activities.  But those churches with few children and youth seem to find renewed energy as they host their fundraising dinners, look to parishioners to assist with monthly church workdays, and host festivals and picnics once again.

I notice more smiles and a renewed commitment to engage in activities, certain that a May or June snow is unlikely to create travel concerns. I notice that I am energized as well. I now can go to evening meetings and not begin and end in the dark. Even memorial services and celebrations of peoples’ lives can be scheduled without wondering if icy roads are in store.

The flipside? We now must worry about excessive heat. Will the wedding party wilt for the lack of a good breeze in our “natural-air-conditioned” churches? For me, the biggest challenge is projecting my voice throughout an entire worship service, including sermon, with the doors open to allow a nice breeze (and perhaps even a stray bird or creature to enter). Will the friendly bear that enjoys the church’s dumpster dare to come and join us in our melodious singing as well?

Ah—I love the life of a missioner! Winter and early spring may pose travel concerns and possibly unexpected cancellations, but oh the wonders of late spring and summer! The fresh breeze wafting in the windows and the casual, more intimate nature of worshiping amidst the sounds and smells of nature is so inviting. Suburbia does not know what it is missing.

Theresa