How much of leadership in a church (or any organization) is about leading groups of people, and how much is about individuals? If there’s a new thing happening, is the pastor helping to gather a team to work on it, or is the pastor pouring time and energy into one person, so that s/he can gather a team and do the work?

It sounds like a minor distinction, but it feels consequential. I was trained to, when someone approaches me with an idea, send them out to “run it up the flagpole,” see who else feels called to the idea, and then to come back. Then, as the pastor, I’ll get involved and help lead.

I’m realizing, though, that “running it up the flagpole” is by no means self-explanatory, and that many people who feel a calling to solve a problem feel far less called to rally their peers to solve it with them. It’s a confidence issue. So, nine times out of 10, I send them out to drum up interest and they never come back.

“I don’t think that’s a good way to lead,” a fellow pastor told me recently when I described this method. He said, “This is our job, not theirs. They have a job. They don’t have a bunch of extra time to do those things. But it’s our job.” (That’s a pretty loose paraphrase).

Instead, he says, he commits to some concrete steps toward exploring the idea and the person’s sense of call to work on it. That exploration is time-bounded and open ended, so it’s possible at least one of them will discern that moving forward is a bad idea.

So I’m trying this. Somebody came to see me yesterday with an idea, and I promised to do two concrete things over the next two weeks to see if it’s something that energizes me and seems good. He’s doing some things too. We’ve set up another meeting together in two weeks.

How do you channel new energy and new ideas?

Kile Jones started this thing called Interview An Atheist At Church, where he’s connecting pastors across the country with atheists in their community and facilitating opportunities for them to talk to one another, publicly, in worship.

Again, that’s an atheist, a “deconverted” Christian, investing loads of energy and time into making connections between communities of belief and individuals with no religious belief, all for the sake of encouraging “humanizing” encounters between them.

That’s good. God –and every atheist–knows we need as many “humanizing” encounters as we can get.

Listen to my very humanizing conversation with Kile below, and check out all the podcast episodes and how to subscribe here.

The action we take when the moment of decision is upon us has been determined long before, and if we’re not careful we can rule out the possibility of generosity and courage without even knowing it (this blog post is brought to you by an embarrassed softball duff who still can’t field a ball properly because he chooses, time and again, to play everything to the side and to let the ball come to him–a choice made inevitable before the ball is even hit).

Will we help the stranger who’s standing right in front of us? Will we blow the whistle? Will we stand up to a bully?

What if we anticipated these openings and prepared for them? It’s a myth that people who do remarkable things for others are made of holier stuff than the rest of us. Maybe they simply used all of the non-remarkable moments as opportunities to prepare for the chance to make a positive impact: grab some money before you leave the house in case anyone asks for some, pay for a stranger’s coffee now and again–you know, practice.

When I catalog the times I failed to live up to my own expectations, I notice the failure was all but guaranteed by a chain of smaller failures. And when I celebrate those moments when compassion or restraint win out, of course I discern a road well paved by little decisions nobody noticed.

Doing a podcast is teaching me the importance of editing. It is a waste of an audience’s energy and time to require it to wait out long pauses, endure a hailstorm of “um’s,” or to subject them to giggle-filled inside jokes. You have to cut that stuff out and hand over a product that is tight and easy for the audience to relate to. Cut the fat off the bone.

And yet one of my favorite podcasts routinely offers the uncut version of their episodes alongside the one edited for broadcast, and I almost always choose the uncut version. Maybe some gems are buried ‘neath the editing floor scraps. Maybe I’ll hear something that few others will. There could be a connection lurking there, and I don’t want to miss it. So I choose the longer, less polished product.

Do you do that?

Here’s the unedited version of my most recent podcast episode, which I haven’t even edited yet, much less posted. But if you’re into this sort of thing, here are comments about time limits, sound checks, and an admission about ratatouille.

Do I want to work with you? It depends.

I’m stuck, and I need someone to work with on something that feels important. Do I want that person to be you? It totally depends.

You’re smart, and you’ve got a really interesting idea. You talk a good game; conviction, clarity, and style abound. Still, it depends.

Mostly, it depends on whether we like each other. It sounds shallow and childish, like the standard children use when deciding who to play with during recess, but it is the measurement I privilege more than most when pursuing collaborators: do I like them? Do they seem to like me? Yeah? Then I’m reasonably certain we can do some things together.

Sometimes we don’t have a choice: we have to get along for the sake of the project regardless of whether or not we like one another. But what if those instances are the exception and the norm is that you get to seek out people you like to work on things that matter.

The leaders of Tapestry work on things like a Tacky Prom for youth because we like each other, and when people like one another there’s joy in shared work, even though there are also responsibilities and disagreements–even outright conflict. The joy we take in one another grounds our work, and we get things done.

So who do you like? You can work with anyone (you’re a grown up, after all). But who do you really want to work with?

This Reply All episode featuring the story of Lindsey Stone blew me away (content warning: there’s some raw language in there). Who knew that the best way to clean up your online reputation is not by deleting negative content but by adding new positive content?

It’s a public world now. Googling your name is basic professional diligence in this world, and not, as recently as five years ago, narcissistic indulgence. So shouldn’t we all be representing ourselves online in ways that accentuate our work and our values? Shouldn’t we all be showcasing ourselves online?

We’re all one foolish photo away from public internet shaming, and the best defense appears to be a good offense. Assure that the world sees the person you want them to see should they come looking.

Then, make sure you’re as good as that person.

Speak your mind or don’t. No, speak your mind. Please.

“I’m just saying” is either a passive aggressive ploy to say something direct without appearing to, or it’s a shirking of our responsibility to speak the truth in love, a timid denial of the permission we have to make a contribution.

“I’m just saying” is saying, only not well and not in a way that makes anyone want to follow you.

Don’t “Just” say. Say.

More people involved is better. More people invested in a project means more ownership players will take over the outcome which means less top-down dictatorial leadership.

Only, when we’re making something new, does it actually work like that?

Joe has an idea for a service project at his church. He wants to support kids at a low-income school in town by providing backpacks filled with school supplies at the start of the school year. He’s talked to the school, and they’re on board.

So, choose your own adventure here. You’re Joe. You want to put a call out in your church for people to work with you on it, so you’re going to make an announcement in worship. Does your announcement say, “If you want to be part of this let me know,” or does it say something more like, “Here’s how to sign up to help” and include a list of specific tasks people can volunteer to complete?

Choice A is a path toward open-ended collaboration with anyone who heard your call and felt compelled to respond. The major decisions about how to accomplish the project are on the table for the whole team. In fact, the nature of the project may even change.

Choice B is a you calling the shots and assigning responsibility for particular pieces.

As church leaders, are we encouraging people with ideas more toward path A or B? And which one are we actually taking with our own ministry ideas?

What do you do? Not for a living, so much. If you’re lucky, your job is a way for you to do what you do, but what do you do that you will always do, regardless of where your paycheck is coming from?

An organizer of a new house church said to me, “I would be doing this even if nobody came.” Somebody in my congregation told me, “Church is how I do what I do.” She connects people. She creates positive experiences for people. She writes.

What do you do, and how do you do it? What communities invite you to do what you do? Support you? Equip you?

As a church leader, I am as interested in what you do and how church can help you do it as I am in the things the church *needs* done.

So what do you do? Do you even know?