Confession: Our congregation can do a much better job of welcoming new members. (*Also: I bear a significant responsibility for that. )

What is your congregation’s (or organization’s) plan for welcoming new people? 

I bet that for many of you, the response was either:

• We don’t have one.
• New folks attend a class or orientation.

I don’t think there is one perfect model, but here are some things you might want to include:

1. Share your congregation’s vision and purpose. Why does your congregation exist? What are its core values? What is it about? Why should we care? I like Rick Warren’s fourfold process of

1. Membership: Who are we? What do we believe?
2. Maturity: What are the habits necessary for spiritual growth?
3. Ministry: How do I discover and use my spiritual gifts to serve?
4. Mission: How do I share the good news with the world?

2. Help new members connect with mature members as mentors. Failure to do this is the reason many new members often slip away in the first two years. They need mentors who will look out for them and help them connect more deeply. Mentors are not necessarily “established” (tenured) members, but members mature in faith (or your organization’s values). Hint: This is the secret sauce.

3. Celebrate new members regularly. Make sure new members are publicly welcomed. I’m considering a way to do this during Lent that folds together a process Paul E. Hoffman developed (of presenting gifts during Lent) with our vision statement:

1. First Sunday of Lent // Daily prayer // Martin Luther’s Small Catechism
2. Second Sunday of Lent // Daily Bible reading // Lutheran Study Bible
3. Third Sunday of Lent // Worshiping weekly // Evangelical Lutheran Worship hymnal
4. Fourth Sunday of Lent // Connecting in small groups // our congregation directory
5. Fifth Sunday of Lent // Giving generously // offering envelopes

What ideas do you have to welcome new members and to integrate them into the life of your congregation?

21 times.

In his book Making Vision Stick, Andy Stanley says that is how often a vision needs to be communicated in order for it to stick.

To paraphrase him: About the time you, in a leadership role, are tired of repeating the same vision over and over again, those listening for the vision are just beginning to hear it.

In other words, just when you think that everybody should have gotten it by now, they are just beginning to get it. 

That new project you’re working on? It might work. It might be a raging success! (Dr. Seuss says so.)

But it might not work at all.

Seth Godin has a new two-hour audiobook called Leap First: Creating Work That Matters. It is excellent. In it, he discusses the importance of entertaining (at the same time) the options of “It might work” and “It might not work” with every new project you are creating.

If you presume it will be a HUGE success and it is not, you’ll be disappointed.

If you presume it will FAIL in an epic way, you might never start.

Bring it anyway. Do the work you were called to do. Create something new to bring into the world. Ship it anyway.

Then stand in that tension between “This might work” and “This might not work.”

One of my favorite children’s songs to sing is “I’ve Got Peace Like a River.” More often than not, I do not have peace. Not even one drop. (I yell a lot.)

What might peace like a river look like?

Always flowing. Refreshing. Deep enough to swim in. Current strong enough to carry you along. Dangerous but fun. Moving, carrying, flowing.

The next verse is: joy like a fountain. What might that look like?

Bubbling, overflowing joy deeply whose source is someone or something else. Refreshing, life-giving joy that keeps coming. Fountains are places where children can play and where adults become children again.

And the final verse is: love like an ocean. What’s that?

Love that wide (for everyone) and that deep is almost incomprehensible. It is the love that Jesus our Lord has for the world. It is the very love of God. Perfect love. Wide love. Deep love.

A more honest way to sing this song might be:

Lord Jesus, I so often don’t have peace, joy and love…. but you do, without measure. Open my life to receive these gifts and by your Holy Spirit, let these watery gifts flow in and through me. Amen.

I did it. I crossed the finish line. My goal for the month of January was to blog every day of the month.

First, the fears: I was afraid I’d run out of ideas. I was afraid I’d run out of steam. I was afraid I didn’t have that much work worth sharing. I was afraid the critics would line up.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Maybe? (But who cares?)

If I can do it, so can you. Here are some lessons I learned along the way.

1. Blogging every day does not mean blogging every day. The beauty of blogging is scheduling posts. Some days are more filled with creative energy than others, so I’d often write three posts one day and none on others. I could schedule my posts to see how I was tracking. (I’m actually writing this post early on Saturday, January 24). I missed a few days in early January, so I just extended my finish date to February 3… allowing me to keep my commitment without beating myself up.

2. Good and finished (published) is better than perfect and never shipped. Seth Godin has helped me see and embrace this truth. He even has a Ship It journal. There are probably typos that I missed, grammatical mistakes here and there, wonky formatting. But now my work is out there, shipped, shared with the world.

3. Blogging every day for a month is a habit that begets other habits. In other words, it’s a keystone habit as defined by Charles Duhigg in his book, The Power of Habit (which I highly recommend). I don’t have six-pack abs, but I did launch a conference in the same span of time.

4. My work matters. I don’t mean this from a place of arrogance. Instead, what I mean is that ideas I share have added value to the lives of others. How do I know this? Not from likes on Facebook or retweets on Twitter, but from constructive feedback from those I trust. The highest compliment in the world for me to receive is: I had never thought about it that way before.

5. It puts blogging every week in perspective. I know now I can achieve my annual goal of blogging every week. I may even increase it to twice a week. And now I have all this amazing content I can share again (repost) throughout the year. Blogging every day for a month has taught me that blogging once or twice a week is doable, very doable.

6. Doing work that matters is fun. Awakening the muse within is a delightful process. You should try it.

What about you? What project have you been avoiding that could use a month-long push to get the pieces moving?

P.S. In case you’re curious about future frequency, my plan is to post next Monday and Tuesday and then once a week on Mondays after that.

I love the movie Groundhog Day. It’s Bill Murray at his best. It’s fun and playful. (I’m such a Groundhog Day geek that I’ve scheduled this post to publish at 6:00 am on Groundhog Day.)

The movie asks a haunting question: If we got unlimited “do overs” for one day in our life, what would we do?

It takes Phil Connors several do overs before he even begins to get things right: discover who he is, what he is called to do, and how to love others. He begins as a self-centered, narcissistic shell of a human being. He ends up learning about loving and giving and serving.

So often we take a much more high-pressure approach to do overs: If I had just one more chance, I would… nail that project, compose that symphony, get it right. But then you don’t.

But what if we need something like 35 more chances to fail at the same thing before we even begin to see what “getting it right” looks like? 

In other words: fail often.

I’m putting together a series of preaching workshops called “Preach Better. Fail Often.” The first part is easy: Who doesn’t want to improve their craft? But are we willing to risk that many abysmal failures on the way to improving our art? What if it takes 3 years (or more) of trying and failing, trying and failing, trying and failing before we begin to see what “better” looks like?

OK, campers, rise and shine…!

At Walt Disney World, you can get a FastPass that allows you to wait in line for popular rides for minutes instead of hours. It’s genius for them and their park guests.

If you are an artist, creative, film maker, broadcaster or writer, you have been given a fast pass.

Not too many years ago it might take months, if not years, to publish your book. Now you can get a blog up and running in less than 20 minutes and write your first post in 10. You could write the great American novel serial style (a chapter a day) in a month. Look out, Charles Dickens and Stephen King!

Not too long ago, if you wanted to broadcast, you either needed connections at the local radio station or lots of fancy equipment–ideally, both. You can now podcast on a shoestring. Look out, Clear Channel!

If you wanted to make it in film back in the day, you needed to live in New York City or LA. You needed an agent, time spent in the business and a huge budget. Now you can make a film on your phone, edit it on iMovie, and BOOM: You’re an artist, a filmmaker, a producer and a director. Look out, Sony Pictures!

You have a fast pass: a print publishing platform, a broadcast microphone and an entire film studio.

What in the world are you waiting for?

Six big things in six weeks.

That’s the secret my friend Daniel Beaudoin (he needs a blog) shared with me. He learned from Bill Hybels. You can read a nice summary here.

The idea is simple: Break down your annual goals into six-week time blocks (that’s half of a quarter or one eighth). Let’s call it the two bit principle.

Eight times a year you are working on six big things. The six things in six weeks allows intensity and micro focus. The eight times a year frequency allows for the multiplier effect: 48 big things done annually. (If you’re doing the careful math, 6 x 8 = 48 weeks, which leaves just the perfect amount of margin: 4 weeks a year.)

Not only that, but it’s sixey. (See what I did there?)

So, how are you going to six 2015 up a bit?

Uncle Louie’s Fantastic Sea Voyage was one of my favorite books growing up.

Spoiler alert: The main story involves a boy who is supposed to stay at his uncle’s house for the weekend. The uncle, however, is intent on going to Africa (They live in Denmark). The boy sneaks aboard the boat and they shipwreck on what they believe to be the continent of Africa. All the evidence points to it… especially the animals. But there is one odd thing: They’ve not been sailing long enough to be in Africa. When daybreak comes, they realize they are in the middle of the Africa exhibit at their local zoo.

Is this a story of disappointment or hope?

I suppose you could read it as a story of disappointment: They never made it to Africa. But you could also read it as a story of hope: sometimes you don’t have to travel very far for your greatest adventure.

What adventures are awaiting you right in your own backyard? What grand trips are less than 50 miles from where you live? What exotic animals can be found close by? What amazing people are a short car trip away? And what is literally in your own backyard?

Go have an adventure there.

And by “there” I mean here. 

Some congregations have a Praise Band that leads worship. A friend of mine says that they should also have a Lament Band. I would add that a third is needed: an Imprecatory Band.

An imprecatory band?

The imprecatory Psalms are those Psalms in the Bible that call down curses on your enemies. They are tricky Psalms. But they are there for praying. All sorts of awkwardness.

But have you noticed there’s a lot of awkwardness in the Bible?

My friend and I are going to start a little Imprecatory Band. He can play guitar, but I can’t sing, so it’s likely you’ll be calling down curses on us.

Our songs take the tunes of familiar children’s Bible songs and explore awkward stories of the Bible, the ones you don’t get to hear often in church. Here’s a sample of what we’ve come up with so far:

Jeremiah was a sad young man (tune: Zacchaeus was a wee little man)

Who touched the ark (tune: Who built the ark?)

Crumby, crumby (Life of Job) (tune: Floody, floody / rise and shine)

The S-H-E-Bear-y (tune: The B-I-B-L-E)

Exodus 4 (tune: Jesus loves me)

A year or so ago I formed an online group as a place to share ministry failures: ideas tried that didn’t work, massive screw ups, etc. I was partially inspired by the work J.R. Briggs is doing over at Epic Fail Pastors.

Do you have a group that you can fail with, and fail often?

Because here’s the thing: In our world vulnerability is connectivity. Failure is where leaders meet each other.

There’s a Japanese proverb that says: Fall down seven times, get up eight. As a Christian, there are resurrection overtones in this proverb as well. Seven is the day of rest, the Sabbath, where Jesus was dead in the tomb. Eight is the day of resurrection, the first day of the new creation, Jesus alive forever.

But failure alone is sometimes terrifying. Actually, it’s almost always terrifying. But when you fail together? Sometimes that can be fun! And at least you have formed a community.

Who are the friends you are failing with?

Go fail.

Seven times.

Then share.

Then get back up.

Jesus is a thistle.

Stay with me.

One of the ministries I support is Thistle Farms of Nashville. It’s the social enterprise of Magdalene, a residential program for women who have survived lives of prostitution, trafficking, addiction and life on the streets.

Why a thistle?

From their website: “Thistles grow on the streets and alleys where residents and graduates of Magdalene walked. Considered weeds, thistles have a deep root that can shoot through concrete and survive drought. In spite of their prickly appearance, their royal and soft purple center makes the thistle a mysterious and gorgeous flower. Being a Thistle Farmer means the world is our farm and that we choose to love all creation.”

One of the slogans of Magdalene and Thistle Farms is love heals. This, to me, is one very succinct way to summarize the Gospel. Jesus himself is love in the flesh, love come down from heaven, love fully given. In the Christian east, salvation uses healing language, so there is a very real sense in which “Jesus saves” and “love heals” speak the same truth.

Love heals through Jesus the Thistle.

Jesus is the Thistle, who was clothed in royal purple for his brutal coronation on the cross. Jesus is the Thistle, resilient unto death and triumphing over it, who breaks the bonds of sin and death. Jesus is the Thistle, the resilient flower, who embraces all his suffering ones and clothes them in the gorgeous purple of his mercy and love.

Please join me in praying for and financially supporting the women of Magdalene.

When was the last time you built a couch fort?

(If you’re a parent, you probably spend a lot of time telling the kids to put those cushions back where they belong!)

But when was the last time you gathered up blankets and cushions and your friends and created a whole new world where none had existed before?

[I feel like I read something really similar to this post recently and want to give proper attribution, but cannot seem to find it. Suffice to say, I’m just building on someone else’s great idea.]

They say, “If it’s not broken, don’t fix it.”

Nonsense.

Can you imagine Steve Jobs saying that–ever?

1. Whether it’s broken or not, if it can be improved, do something about it.

2. Plus, perspective matters. A lot of Americans thought things “weren’t broken” before the Civil Rights Movement. Martin Luther King, Jr. and many others thought otherwise.

3. Sometimes things are so deeply broken and we’re so enmeshed in the system, we aren’t even aware of the brokenness. That is, until someone wakes up and sees it and then wakes the rest of us up. Think Martin Luther and the Protestant Reformation.

Fix it anyway.

Change it.

Improve it.

Don’t stop.

Be ornery.

Shake things up.

Ruffle some feathers.

Pray boldly.

Risk failure.

Break something. (Then you’ll have to fix it.)

Confession: I’m kind of an organizing / decluttering junkie. It’s one of my tribes. I love a clear workspace.

Paper is the worst. I think it’s because paper represents security in a world that is rapidly going all digital. We still call a paper copy a hard copy, as if that means permanent.

But if you’re like me, the name hard copy usually means hard to find.

I recently read Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. I found her sections on paper clutter the best of all. In a nutshell: When it comes to paper, get rid of most of it. This is so obvious and so intuitive, and yet so rare.

This fits with her overall approach to cleaning up, which is first to get rid of what is not necessary (decluttering), and then organize only what remains. [If you need help with getting rid of stuff, check out these guys.]

Get rid of most of it. That way, Kondo writes, you won’t waste time looking for what you know you don’t have.

Get rid of most of it. Keep tax stuff and important legal and financial documents… but not all of them. (Note: Check with your accountant when it comes to the details.)

Get rid of most of it. But keep what you do keep organized. Andrew Mellen has a great chapter on organizing paper in file folders in his book Unstuff Your Life. The solution, no surprise, is filing.

Get rid of most of it. Go paperless. Not paper free, but paper less. Stop pressing “print” for every single interesting thing on your computer screen. This one habit alone has cut my paper clutter in half.

Get rid of most of it. Snap a picture. Scan it into your computer. Email a copy to yourself.

Then breathe.

The worst possible scenario when it comes to eating pie is fighting over the last piece. Everyone wants it. Only one person gets it. Even worse: We apply this scarcity mentality to life / work / play all the time.

There’s only one piece of pie left, so you’d better fight, claw, and lie to get it. 

But that’s not true at all.

My favorite pie story is when I was sharing with a group at church that I chose to forgo a piece of pie because we were getting so close to paying off all our debt following Dave Ramsey’s baby steps. The end was in sight and it was an act of discipline. We gave up the piece of pie… for a time.

Laster that day, a couple from that group showed up to our doorstep with a freshly-baked whole peanut butter pie (my favorite).

I gave up the last piece (for a time) and later a whole pie appeared.

Now that’s a little more like the “creation economy” we live in now, isn’t it? Instead of 100 people scrambling for the same last piece of pie, what if each of of them put in the time on Khan Academy or with a local baker, learning how to make a pie? Then, instead of 100 people fighting over one piece of pie, you’d have 100 people with pies of their own to share.

Of course, this doesn’t happen overnight. It requires tough decisions and discipline and creativity and sweat and lots of burnt pies (failure).

But in the end, it’s more yum for everyone. Get baking.

I am glad to see that Rob Bell is back at it with his new podcast. In the first episode of the new season he makes a bold assertion:

“Good” is often the enemy of great.

Now he is certainly not the first one to say this (see Jim Collins’ Good to Great), but Bell has a way of framing and reframing things in a way that captures your heart.

He challenges us:

What good things are we saying “yes” to in place of the few “great” things that we are called to do?

He uses the phrase “B-” to describe these activities. So what are your “B-” activities and commitments, those things that are good but not great? What are the things you have said “yes” to half-heartedly but don’t know how to quit? And what if it is all these good things that are eating up all your time?

What if courage, besides meaning “heroic,” also means “vulnerable”?

Brene Brown, in her book The Gifts of Imperfection, reminds us that the Latin root of courage is “heart.” Courage, then, is showing your heart. Sometimes that means bravery; sometimes that means vulnerability.

Some would still describe this as weakness. But true vulnerability is what connects people.

Will you be courageous today, meaning: Will you be vulnerable?

Will you show and share your heart?

In this short video, Micah Bournes challenges Christians to once again become a people who change things. Specifically in Acts 17:6, the early followers of Jesus were described as the people who have been turning the world upside down.

Does that mean risk?

Does that mean some are going to criticize your project?

Does that mean you’ll get some hate mail?

Probably.

But it will also mean that…

You mattered.

You stood up for something important.

You created something worthwhile.

Go turn the world upside down. Like, now.

The first ever Preach Better, Fail Often workshop is coming to NW Ohio.

What will it be like?
Lots of teaching segments (about 45 minutes each), with plenty of time for questions and interaction… plus a few labs at the end to work on material you bring.

Why offer this?
Because I’ve learned a few things in my own preaching journey that I want to share to help you improve your preaching. And because, now more than ever: preaching matters.

Where?
St. Mark’s Lutheran Church
(Multipurpose Room)
315 S. College Dr.
Bowling Green, OH 43402

When?
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
9 am – 4:30 pm

Can I get a preview?
Of course. Here are the main workshop titles:
1. Deconstructing the sermon: What are we doing when we preach?
2. One thing: Focus and preaching
3. Structure: The outline secret that has changed everything for me
4. The tomb is empty: The urgency of preaching
5. Miscellaneous drawer: Memorizing and the ancients. Slides, PowerPoint and visuals, oh my! (Plus whatever comes up.)

I attended your workshop with Mike Weaver last year. Will there be labs where a few of us will get to share our work and be critiqued in a safe environment?
Yes. We’re hoping to spend the last 1-2 hours doing just that.
Bring a sermon that worked, a sermon that sucked, or one you are working on.

What’s the cost?
$147 through February 23 (midnight).
Register here: http://tinyurl.com/LT8493S

What about lunch?
Still working out the details.
Make sure you have a high-protein breakfast before you arrive.

Is there an attendance limit?
Yes. Because of the nature of the workshop, we will be limiting it to 20 participants.

Will I get a glossy workbook with lots of QR codes?
Probably not.
But you might get a minimalist comb-bound old-school workbook assembled the evening before at FedEx Office.

Will childcare be provided?
I wish we could… but unfortunately we can’t.

Ever have the experience of trying to please a person who is perpetually unhappy?

Ever bend over backwards for someone whose expectations you’ll never meet?

Ever done your best work for a group that either didn’t get it or could care less?

Ever done any of these things while neglecting your biggest fans? Oops.

I have too.

Turns out my biggest fans are my family… and a few close friends… and a handful of trusted colleagues and mentors. And I’m sure I have huge fans I’ve never even met yet.

What would life look like if I spent most of my energy doing great work for and with them?

They say…

This winter is going to be worse than last winter.

You shouldn’t go swimming right after you eat lunch.

They don’t like the way you [fill in your fear / worst criticism received].

By the way, that kidney heist story isn’t true either.

But who are “they” after all? Do they have your best interests at heart? Do they love you? Or do they just like to talk (about others) and repeat (incorrect information)?

Snopes.com and other urban-legend-debunking sites have shown that often “they” are wrong. Turns out you can’t boil a frog in water, even slowly. Go ahead and take that swim right after lunch.

Lately I’ve been pondering, as a spiritual discipline, the practice of listening to whatever it is “they” are saying and doing or believing just the opposite.

Ornery is underrated. 

Do the opposite of whatever “they” say. And then read these books. Even if “they” say you shouldn’t.

The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles

Art & Fear: Observations On the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking

“Many churches are prepping themselves for future that isn’t coming.”

This article by Peyton Jones.

Is your church in the public square?

I’ve never been a runner. Perhaps it’s a (false) story I tell myself. Maybe one day I’ll try it. But I’ve never enjoyed it.

Walking? That is what I love. Every kind. Walking in the morning. Hiking in the woods. Strolling in the city. I even enjoy the walk from my car in the parking lot to the store.

It’s a very spiritual thing for me too. A few years ago I attended a “healthy pastors” seminar and the one thing that stuck with me is that… Jesus walked. A lot. Someone had calculated that among the journeys recorded in the New Testament, Jesus averaged 3 miles a day. Obviously it’s more than that, but what a great baseline! Imitating Christ means walking regularly.

Someone once observed that walking is the speed of God, because it’s the speed at which things can be observed in all their fullness… it’s the speed at which conversations can happen.

Don’t text and drive. Walk and look.

And prepare to be amazed.

Yes, you can outsource your printing overseas. You can even hire a virtual assistant. But why not look around locally first?

The best photographer I know lives in town. She does amazing work.

The videographer I’m considering for a project is also local.

What amazing people are within 50, 20, 5 miles of where you work or live? Why not check them out first?

Just because you can buy from anyone in the world doesn’t mean you should.

Plus, if you’re not happy with the work, you know where they live… 🙂

I just finished Seth Godin’s latest book / project, Your Turn.  It’s a beautiful book that looks like a magazine that will help you get over whatever little (or big) hill is in your way.

Seth is a genius because he sells it in multiples–one for you, several to give away–and it works because he creates content worth sharing.

What are you creating?

What project are you starting?

What big thing are you working on?

Do you ever get overwhelmed with the scale and scope of a project?

Story of my life.

How many projects were never finished, never shipped, never shared with the world because they seemed too big?

You know the joke about how to eat an elephant, right?

One bite at a time.

So instead of spending your morning sketching out project plans and detailed outlines… or checking Facebook because you are overwhelmed and frozen…

Just ask: What’s the next natural little thing I can do to move this along?

And then do that thing.

Rinse. Repeat.

Elephant eaten.

Boom!

So you’re excited that your football team won. Or perhaps you’re pouting that your team lost.

But what about your other Tribes?

How are you supporting them today?

“What big thing are you working on?”

These are the words that Andy Stanley challenged us with at his Leadercast talk in May 2014. He shared the story of a mentor of his (2:18 mark) who took Andy under his wing and helped shape him as a leader over a series of conversations over breakfast.

What big thing are you working on?

It’s a question for leaders.

It’s code language I now use with other leaders interested in creating something new and changing our corner of the world.

What about you: What big thing are you working on?

Do you ever get screen weary?

I broke my Kindle a month or so ago and haven’t purchased a new one. I’d rather read printed books.

My email inbox often (to my chagrin) functions as my to do list. Email is (maybe) one step above text messaging. I’d rather get a handwritten paper letter any day.

My smartphone is an impressive device. I miss my paper planner.

Sometimes low tech is better.

It’s cold out there, campers!

If you’re on social media for more than five minutes in a good part of the United States today, everyone will be commenting on how cold it is, combined with expert opinions about what to do about it:

Close schools!

Fight climate change!

Buy doggie sweaters!

But what if the weather snap is an opportunity? Michael Hyatt, one of my favorite bloggers, invites us in these less-than-desirable situations to ask:

What does this make possible?

Is it gratitude? (For a warm house or on-call plumbers to fix your heat.)

Is it family time? (Because of cancelled or delayed school or work.)

Is it prayer? (For those who work in this weather, for the homeless.)

Or is it something else?

Bundle up.

“Precision and Order” is the mantra of Mr. Banks and company in the Mary Poppins musical.

The greatest sin according to Sir Topham Hatt of Thomas the Tank Engine fame is “confusion and delay.”

Precision and order are good things, to be sure–at least most of the time. Few people like confusion and delay.

But what happens when these values (even implicitly) become the heart of your organization’s culture, its implicit mission?

What is the [unstated, but rigidly-adhered to] mission of your organization?

Meet the budget?

Keep most people happy most days?

Precision and order?

Don’t upset the boss?

What is the true heart of your organization’s culture and what are you doing to change it?

Ever agonized over a decision? Delayed making a choice?

Pre-decide.

Last winter was a brutal one in this part of Ohio. This year I’ve taken up walking outside as a regular practice. Last month I pre-decided what criteria I would use to determine whether or not I would walk outside. If the raw or wind chill temperature was below zero degrees (Fahrenheit), I would not venture outside.

I pre-decided. This way my decision (to walk or not to walk) is not determined by my morning sleepy state or my lack of motivation or any number of factors. It gives me a benchmark. It also saves me from agonizing over the same decision again and again.

What are you pre-deciding? Here’s a list to begin with:

1. Never check email before 11 am.

2. Never make important decisions when angry, tired or afraid (lizard brain).

3. Never respond to incendiary email messages for 24 hours (minimum). Nuclear messages wait 48 hours.

4. Walk 1.5 miles every day (subject to the below zero rule above).

5. Do creative work first thing in the day.

What’s your list? What will you pre-decide today?

A friend shared the other day that she wanted to take down all of her Christmas decorations, clean things up, get back into the swing of things… but was holding out for Epiphany, the formal close of the twelve days of Christmas.

She waited, is waiting, in spite of herself and her desires.

The spiritual disciplines are those things of God that we are asked to do in spite of ourselves. 

Lauren Winner, in her book Mudhouse Sabbath, reflects on the spiritual disciplines of Judaism in light of her conversion to Christianity. She longs for these habits. Most of them, it seems to me, are the things of God that we are asked to do in spite of ourselves.

The irony, of course, is that God knows what is best for us and that these habits, these spiritual disciplines, are better for us over the long run.

Wait for Epiphany.

What is your exit strategy? Do you have one?

Days turn into months turn into years. Some things we should quit faster than we can blink. Others are worth sticking with–even through difficult times.

But how do you know?

Seth Godin’s The Dip: A Little Book That Teaches You When to Quit (and When to Stick) has profoundly influenced how I think about quitting and how I think about staying.

You should read it.

It’s popular to say, “New year, new you!” in an effort to convince ourselves that this year will be the year to… lose that weight, reinvent yourself, change jobs, write that book.

New year, new YOU.

What about “new year, old you”? What if the old “you” is pretty much who you will be in 2015: with all your beauty and insight and brilliance… but also with all your hangups, weaknesses and baggage?

What then?

“New year, old you” is actually quite freeing. What might it mean to bring all of “old you” into the new year?

To accept freely how God has created you in all your wonder and all your mess?

And then to bring all of “old you” into this blank slate we call the new year?

What then?

(And skip the gym membership.)

How often do you check email? Try this experiment: For one day, record the number of times you check email: on your phone, at work, at home. Also record the number of times you have an urge to check email but don’t. Write down the total.

Then try this experiment: Don’t check your email for an entire day (until say 4 pm or so). Write down the number of total messages.

This is what you are up against: Your penchant for obsessively checking email and the total volume of email you receive.

What if we treated email like the mail that comes from the post office? What would you do differently?

For me, the gap couldn’t be wider. On a good day, I check email multiple times a day. My inbox is often my second “to do” list.

By contrast, even though I “get” the mail every day (or so), I often only open it once a week. I throw out most of it and put the important stuff where it belongs (again, on a good week).

Can you imagine the insanity of checking your mailbox 5, 6, 7, 25 times a day? Of putting your To Do list inside your mailbox? Of opening 60, 100, 250 pieces of mail each day? Yet this is exactly how we treat email.

I’m aware that email and mail are not identical. But somewhere along the way, we made a decision (even if by default) that email should be treated more like an urgent text message. I think Facebook, Twitter, et al. have only amplified this effect.

So here’s the productivity hack that I’ve recently put in place: Treat email like the mail that comes from the post office. Here are some things that work for me:

1. Never check email before 11 am. Set your day and priorities before opening your inbox and letting it run your life. Make your To Do list before your email makes it for you.

2. Go ahead and send. If you are making your way through your task list, go ahead and send a message if you need to. Just don’t linger for a minute. And don’t read. It’s a black hole and it will suck you in.

3. Decide, in advance, how many times you will check and respond to email each day–and stick to it. Twice a day is more than adequate… once before lunch and once before the end of your workday.

4. Try putting your email on vacation for a few days or a week. Whenever I return from a real vacation, I’m amazed at how many messages have taken care of themselves in my absence and how quickly I can make my way through hundreds of messages in one sitting.

5. Consider: How much of this is junk? If it’s junk or you’re done with it, archive it or (better) delete it.

6. Move To Do items to your To Do list. Seems obvious, but so few of us make this step to separate our To Do list from our inbox. I’m still working on this one.

7. Customize it. Make your system work for you. Then let me know what pro tips you have.

Will you be less “responsive”? Maybe. Might you miss something really important. You might… but probably not. Will you gain some measure of sanity back in your work and in your life. Most definitely.

Give it a try. Even for one week. Better: one month. Radical: one year.

Is is possible that actually owning fewer things is better than owning more things?

Is it possible that less is, literally, more?

Are you drowning in your stuff? Your schedule? Your life?

The Minimalists and the Essentialist

A few months ago I read a review for a book: Everything That Remains: A Memoir by The Minimalists. Something in the review caught my attention. The authors suggested that the “hoarders” and the “organizers” are actually just two versions of the same problem, namely: We have too much stuff. (One group simply has a more socially-acceptable way of hiding it.)

Later this summer I discovered Greg McKeown’s Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less. His book deals less with stuff and more with an overall philosophy of life, including our schedules and commitments.

Both books were game changers for me.

But it all started much more simply…

“I Need a New Bookshelf.”

In my study at work, I was discovering these truths on my own. I had prepared to ask a family member to build a custom bookshelf for me to help me store all the books that had piled on the floor. Then I had a moment of clarity. What if instead of building a custom bookshelf, I just got rid of books? Wouldn’t that solve the problem? 

So I did. Six boxes of them. I no longer “needed” that bookshelf.

A Deadline Never Hurts

At home we were preparing for renovations that would happen while we were on vacation. This meant we had to deal with that closet. You know the one I am talking about. The one filled with boxes of childhood memorabilia, boxes of miscellaneous junk, boxes of, well, stuff. So for three weeks, several hours, a night, we dug in and got it done. All the boxes. All the memories. All the stuff.

It was not fun. It was emotionally exhausting. But it was worth it. I cannot begin to tell you what it feels like to breathe again.

Not There Yet… But It’s Better

I would love to tell you that we’ve arrived. That our house is a picture-perfect minimalist’s dream. It’s not. But we’re getting there.

And every trip to the Goodwill, every bag that goes to the dumpster, every intentional decision we make to live more simply feels like a step in the right direction. It feels like a pilgrimage, a holy and spiritual journey.

Because it is.

A Holy Journey

For me, all of this has a faith component as well. In Luke 18:18-23, a rich young ruler asks Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life. After a conversation about keeping the commandments, Jesus invites him to sell everything he has, give the money to the poor, and follow him.

The rich young man goes away. He leaves. The Bible even gives us the “why”: he had too many possessions.

There are biblical scholars who will tell you this passage does not directly apply to us. But what if it does?

I am a long way from “selling everything I have and giving the money to the poor,” but I’m intrigued by the invitation and the journey. Are you?

Some of the links in the post above are “affiliate links.” This means if you click on the link and purchase the item, I will receive an affiliate commission. I only recommend products or services I use personally and that I believe in.

Do you communicate? Would you like to do it better?

If you communicate on a regular basis, you know how important it is to make sure your audience is with you. There are few things more disconcerting to a speaker than the dreaded sound of crickets, the glazed-over look from hollow eyes… or death: when you notice large numbers of your listeners are already pulling out their smartphones.

I communicate weekly (I’m a preacher)… but really it’s daily. Actually, we’re all in the information-conveying business. And while our media may differ, our calling is the same: to convey what we believe is essential to our listeners. Whether you’re sending out a school-district-wide email, delivering a sermon, making a presentation to your board or talking to your spouse or children, consider these three things:

1. focus
2. fluff
3. flow. 

1. Find the Focus

First, find the focus. What is the absolutely essential one thing you need to communicate? Communicate this soon and communicate this often. Find a creative and memorable way to say it. But whatever you do, narrow your focus. Find the center. And then be able to articulate it. If you don’t know what your focus is, how can you expect your hearers to find it?

2. Cut the Fluff

This is the most difficult part for all communicators, if we’re honest with ourselves. We believe that everything we have to say is vital. And so we pack 15 “life giving truths” into a 20 minute talk. And no one remembers anything.

Once you have found the focus, cut the fluff. Be relentless. Go in with the skill of a master chef, cutting out all but the essentials.

3. Find the Flow

Finally, find the flow. Andy Stanley says that on the “turns” in a speech, we often take our audience through a transition like a driver taking a curve at full speed. If we manage to stay on the road, our passengers likely have their face plastered against the window and have to recover from the shock. Take the turns easy. Pay attention to the flow. Everyone who is listening is not inside your head.

This is not a call to over-simplify things, but instead to recognize that all forms of communication are journeys–and you are attempting to take your audience with you. Give great consideration to the transitions. Do they make sense? Does the overall structure and flow of your work make sense… not just to you but to your audience?

Rinse. Repeat.

Find the focus. Cut the fluff. Find the flow. And happy communicating!

It would be an understatement to say I am sick of shoveling snow this winter.

But it has given me a lot of time to think… and pray.

I am early shoveler. I like to get out and shovel the snow so that the sun can do its work. I am amazed at how quickly the sun melts the snow down to a nice, clean, dry driveway after I clear the snow.

Kind of like Lent.

Lent is time when Christians enter a period of spring training. We focus a bit more intensely on prayer, fasting and works of mercy. These three together are called “the discipline of Lent” or, as I like to call them, “shoveling snow.”

So the Son can do his work.

These practices are meant to slowly (and, let’s be honest, imperfectly) remove the roadblocks, sins and distractions that get in the way of the Son doing his work: melting our hearts so that we may receive the warmth of his love and share that love with others.

This is not to say that Jesus couldn’t simply melt on this snow on his own. Spring reminds us of that each year: a regular example of Jesus’ Easter Victory over sin, death and the devil. But the fact that we get to shovel shows us the character of God’s love: always non-coercive, always steadfast (and, let’s be honest, sometimes slower than we’d like).

The driveway snow is melting. I hope this winter is almost over. But Lent is about to begin.

It all began when the Furbies entered our home.

Our children had Christmas money to spend from their well-meaning grandma (who, truth be told, would have bought the Furbies herself in a heartbeat for them). But there was something about my children choosing to spend their hard-earned (given) Christmas money on Furbies that made me roll my eyes. Really? I thought. Really? 

But these were not just any Furbies, these were Furbies Boom! (I hope I am constructing the correct plural there, like Surgeons General.) I’m not sure what the Boom! adds, because they seem to be just as annoying as a regular Furby.

Anyway, in a moment of rare parental clarity, I shrugged my shoulders and said to my wife, “Well, I suppose we don’t spend our money any differently. Our toys are just more sophisticated and socially acceptable.”

If there is one thing I am thankful for this Christmas break, it is that the time to pause has allowed for truth to creep in. Actually, I’m not thankful for this at all; it’s all been rather painful, this time for truth:

• realizing that I’m very good at doing and not so good at being
• finding my rationalizations of things (from pastoring to parenting) aren’t even convincing to me
• noticing the discrepancy between the parent I say I want to be and the one I actually am.

I am at a point in this journey called parenting where I am not sure about anything, except that the love and mercy and forgiveness of Jesus trump everything. 

I spend a good part of my days trying to convince my children to do this or not do that, to make “good choices” (whatever that means) and to otherwise live as civil human beings. Most of the time, however, “good parental guiding” finds me yelling in forceful language with words that elevate scratched DVDs and CDs and rooms that need cleaned to a moral status even I’m uncomfortable with. And then telling the Furbies to just shut up.

Hi, I’m Matt, and I yell at Furbies Boom!

Parenting fail.

And then I remember my toddler kissing Jesus.

I somehow taught her this, without realizing what I was doing. We’d walk over to the Advent wreath and the Nativity and she’d say, “Baby!” and I would pick up the tiny Nativity baby Jesus and she would kiss him, her tiny toddler lips eclipsing his whole head. Smooch!

Kissing Jesus.

Most of the time what I call “parenting” is really about me running from the truth. But if I sit with my own failures long enough, if I actually listen to the struggles of my children, if I take a break from the yelling for a few seconds… if I can bear the weight of another parenting FAIL(ure), then I find myself where I need to be: very aware of my own sin and desperately hungry for the mercy of Jesus.

Kissing Jesus.

That’s my new parenting philosophy. Doing my best to cover my children with the love of Jesus and invite them into walking his ways, not as in “being good” but as in “trusting in his mercy.” And if there is one thing they grow up with–and I’m not convinced I’ve taught them this as fully as I’d like–it’s that when they stumble and fall and fail, that we might take each other to the manger and kiss Jesus and receive his forgiveness and love.

Smooch!

What is your theme verse from the Bible? What verses capture the essence of your faith and convictions?

Last evening at our youth lock-in we watched the first three installments of Ed’s Story. It is the story of Ed Dobson and his life with ALS. In the second film, Consider the Birds, he wrestles with what it means that we are not in control… and what helps us to trust in the providence and care of God in every moment.

Central to his telling of his story is a small index card that has some verses from the book of Hebrews. These verses sustained him and his family during difficult times.

My theme verses are Acts 3:6 and Isaiah 55:10-11. I think I need to get them on an index card.

Where is your index card? What is your theme verse?
(And if you’re not a Christian, what quotation inspires you the most?)

“What does this have to do with my life?”

It’s a question that preachers get asked, on the one hand, very often and, on the other hand, not nearly often enough.

In the final part of his reflections on Confession and Absolution, Luther deals with some very practical matters when it comes to Confession.

His advice?

1) Begin with the Ten Commandments as a light.

2) Consider your call and vocation (mother, father, etc.).

3) Have you neglected your vocation (disobedient, unfaithful, lazy)?

4) Have you harmed anyone in word or deed?

5) Have you wasted (stolen, neglected, wasted, injured) anything?

Luther invites us to begin with what God has in mind (1) and who we are called to be as God’s creatures (2). This is not a bad way to begin: with theology and anthropology. Who is God? What does God desire for us? And then, given that, how are we called to live and who are we called to be as God’s covenant people?

Once these are established, we can begin to look at specifics: how we’ve neglected our creaturely calling (3), by hurting and harming others (4) and by hurting, harming and squandering God’s good creation. Look at your primary relationships and vocation, Luther invites, then your relationships with all other human beings, then your relationship to the wider creation. 

Luther’s advice on confession moves us from an intense focus on self to a wide-eyed engagement with neighbor and creation.

Confession: I’m a bit obsessive. (Those who know me well are already laughing.) I obsess over details, whether it’s cleaning the house or the final draft of the church bulletin.

I realize this is not a desirable trait.

When it comes to the details of our sins, Martin Luther says two things:

Yes, the details of all your sins need to be confessed before God, but…

When you meet with your Confessor, focus on those that you are aware of and that trouble you. 

Luther is a sharp one. He knows that we sin all the time, even in ways of which we are unaware. He also seems to have a sense that we can get a bit obsessive when it comes to confession: Have I thought of everything? Is my confession complete? What about…? In other words, we can get caught up in making sure our grocery list of sins is complete while ignoring the fact that we’re out of money for groceries!

Luther’s advice? Before your Confessor (pastor, priest) confess what you know to be sins (the ones you are aware of) and the ones that trouble you.

In my own practice of meeting with my Confessor, we usually spend the bulk of our time together on the last one: the sins that trouble me. It is these that are often the clearest window into the soul. Confessing them opens up rich avenues of exploration of how the Holy Spirit is working in my life to transform me from the miserable sinner I am into a vessel for God’s grace.

And then? Psalm 51 together, the laying on of hands, and those sweet, sweet words of forgiveness.

Have you ever had the experience of being in a conversation with someone who is going into great detail on a topic that you already know plenty about? Besides being bored, the whole time you are listening, you are thinking: “I get it. I get it!”

I hear Luther’s words in a similar way when it comes to Confession and Absolution. Most of us “get” the part about calling to mind our sins. What we often fail to recognize and believe, however, is the fullness of God’s forgiveness of us through Jesus Christ. 

When you hear the words of absolution, of forgiveness, believe that your sins are forgiven. 

I don’t know about you, but most of my morning routine is spent on the “confession” side: regret for what I did or didn’t get done yesterday and mulling over the day ahead with anxiety. What if we were to begin each day resting and trusting in God’s forgiveness in Christ? What if we were to make the sign of the cross over ourselves in the shower, remembering our Baptism and claiming once again in the good and gracious truth that we are forgiven?

For the past year or so I have been reflecting on Martin Luther’s Small Catechism as part of my morning devotions. It began as a project to encourage our catechism students to memorize it in smaller parts (I divided it up into 33), reflecting on one section each day for an entire week.

As with most things that are designed to be “good for others,” this project was also transformative for me. In other words, it was good to be a student of the basic treasures of the Christian faith once again. I’m quite convinced that, even as we mature in the faith, being a “student of the basics” is also part of our calling to become like children as we enter the kingdom of God (Matthew 18:3).

Whether you had a terrible experience in catechism, a delightful one, or never went through a catechism program at all, I hope you join me for this journey. My first post will be Monday morning.

[The text I am using is this one from Augsburg Fortress.]

A few years ago I looked around my house and realized how much of my belongings, including much of our furniture, came as a gift from others. Wow, I thought, I am literally surrounded by the generosity of others. I am richly blessed by the work of others.

So in that spirit, I offer up some people and resources that have been gifts to me:

Rich Melheim is doing some amazing stuff over at Faith Inkubators. His “Faith 5” practices are an effort to move faith formation back into the home, where it is done best.

Mike Weaver is exploring the intersection of church and improvisation. You can find his stuff at The Group Mind.

And finally, here are some books I’ve been reading or want to read soon:

Steven Pressfield’s Turning Pro

Andy Stanley’s Making Vision Stick

Our family just saw Disney’s Wreck It Ralph. It’s quite good–perhaps a bit intense at parts for very young children–but has a good story that moves along and moves the audience.

At the center of the story is the character, Wreck It Ralph, who is dealing with a personal struggle: Can a “bad guy” ever become a “good guy?” Ralph even goes to Bad Guys Anonymous as a support group, whose closing mantra is “I’m bad and that’s good. I’ll never be good, and that’s not bad.”

[Spoiler alert]: Toward the end of the film, Ralph does become a good guy by willingly giving his life for the sake of his friend Vanellope. And this is how the bad guy Ralph becomes the good guy.

At the center of the Christian faith is a man, Jesus, who is also God, who willingly gives his life for the world. And very near the center of the Christian faith is an invitation for his followers to do the same: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13).

This is both an everyday calling: to lay down our lives for our spouses, children and friends. But Jesus deepens this call… inviting us even to lay down our lives for our enemies.

Who is Jesus calling you to lay down your life for today?