You’re moderating a forum. You want two things to happen:

1. you want a particular topic to be addressed in depth by people who have thought a lot about it and who have something to say that people will show up to hear
2. you want the people who show up to engage with the speakers, freely and informally. You want to pass the mic.

You probably can’t have both of those things at the same event. The minute you hand off the microphone to a participant, your power to shape the conversation to the topic you care about evaporates. Now the topic–and probably not just during the time they’re speaking–is whatever the first person you pass the mic to says it is, and that may not be what most people came to discuss.

Passing the mic feels democratic, but it usually isn’t.

How do you capture positive feedback?

I don’t mean survey results or signups. I mean unsolicited emails, out-of-nowhere phone calls, and face-to-face comments that say: good job. Thank you. I liked that.

It feels important to capture that stuff and save it for future use, because God knows we’re going to need it. So I have an email folder called “Keepers” into which go notes like this. I go months without thinking about it, but on particularly rough days I open it up and read some of what’s in there. It helps.

Negative feedback saves itself. We need a storage strategy for the positive.

“This idea that . . . “

“A culture that . . . “

“The system that . . . “

These used to be the boogeymen I preached and taught against in church. I’m trying to rid my lessons and sermons of these phrases now, though, because I think they’re making me lazy. I want to address the ideas of the day in my work. I want to speak to the culture and take on systems, but I think doing so demands more specificity than these formulations.

What is the idea, exactly? Who said it?

How is the culture, specifically? Show some evidence.

Where is the system? Tell people where to look for it

Then, of course, tell them what to do about it.

It was the most boring Super Bowl ever.

The halftime show was conventional, and the singer made it worse by baring his sculpted, tattooed, chest.

The commercials were too safe.

Or . . .

It was the best defensive performance in Super Bowl history.

The halftime show privileged precision over scale (yes, even the singer’s chest)

The ads played perfectly to the market.

What is the takedown doing for us? What benefit are we deriving from calling out the worst of what we see? I ask not because I’m a fan of either team, the performers, or the products, but because this whole spectacle is a rare cultural moment featuring professionals at the top of their fields sharing their craft, and it seems to me that our default response to that kind of sharing has become unnecessarily and uncritically negative.

And I wonder what that’s doing for us.

I wonder what it’s doing to us.

A couple were in worship yesterday who looked really familiar. I noticed them during the sermon, and then when they came up for communion they looked at me knowingly. But I couldn’t place their names.

After the service they greeted me. A few awkward seconds passed after handshakes as they waited for me to say their names. I pretty quickly gave up trying to remember and did the thing I do nearly every week at this church, which is to apologetically admit that I’ve forgotten someone’s name; there’s a lot of people here, so it usually goes over without too much insult.

It only took one syllable of one of their names for me to remember: I married them, a fact they stated directly. How embarrassing. To forget the names of people who entrusted you with their big day. I have done a lot of weddings these past three years, but still; my inability to remember names sometimes is a serious ministerial liability.

They were gracious, of course, and expressed understanding. I resolved right away to send them a note this week saying how good it was to see them, and, of course, apologizing again. Even with that, yesterday may be the last time I see them.

I check my records. Their wedding was in November of 2017. I haven’t seen them since.

No more apologies after this.

Tonight is the Homelessness Immersion experience our Confirmation youth do each winter. Friday night and into Saturday morning, students spend time:

learning from leaders who help those without permanent housing, people like case workers and social service staff;

experiencing both the simulated challenges associated with securing housing and the very un-simulated challenges associated with moving around the city on public transit with your possessions strapped to your back;

sleeping in an unfamiliar and uncomfortable–yet warm–building at the invitation of Good Samaritans;

eating only what can be easily carried.

It’s an 18 hour experiential learning opportunity. It’s uncomfortable, but the discomfort is not the point.

It’s a collaboration. It requires cooperation between youth ministry staff and volunteer leaders, social agency staff and volunteers (hat tip to both Chicago Lights and Facing Forward To End Homelessness), and the welcoming members of a second church.

It’s not my idea; it was here when I got here. It’s kind of a tradition, one that changes little-by-little over time and yet retains certain core features that make it what it is.

Here’s to learning and bonding and enduring, all for the sake of a world that doesn’t need any more Homelessness Immersions, when all of God’s children have the shelter their human dignity deserves.

Today’s the last day of January, and I already have a playlist of songs released so far in 2019 to share. It’s 44 songs long.

Of particular interest are new releases by Jenny Lewis, Juliana Hatfield, and Pedro The Lion. Alice Wallace, Liz Brasher, and Neyla Pekarek (the cellist for The Lumineers!) are notable early ’19 new discoveries.

Below the playlist is a bonus: this month’s episode of Hit Parade was all about Lady Gaga’s career, and I loved it. It’s well worth your time.

What do you do with the two days at home that were planned for the ski retreat that got cancelled because of a snow storm? What do you do with the overnight off-sight leader retreat that you can’t carry out because of treacherous travel conditions? What do you do with a Wednesday and Thursday when all your plans and appointments have been scratched out by the coldest temperatures anyone in this city can remember?

It feels like a hidden cost of this weather, all the decision-making effort it’s requiring.

The tap is dripping so the pipes don’t freeze and burst. In the kitchen, the cat is wretching up her breakfast. Typing hurts whenever you hit the “e” key because the dry winter air has cracked the tip of the middle finger on your left hand. The table in the room where you’re working is caked with four day old kid-slime. Your coffee’s gone cold.

Get to work. The impact we need you to make won’t wait for a work environment better suited to your existing achievements and your preferences, the edgy co-working space or the book-lined private study. But if you did it there, you can do it here.

This is it. Now or never.