Don't Hurry. Be Happy.

A few years ago, through the gift of podcasting, I heard preacher John Ortberg tell a story about a conversation he had with Dallas Willard, his mentor and spiritual director. John was asking what he needed to do in order to take the next step in his faith journey. Dallas told him something that has shaped my life:

You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from you life.

And I've been working to do that ever since by...
     Preparing farther ahead and in greater detail.
     Finishing the thing before in time.
     Leaving a tad earlier.
     Driving a little slower, but a lot less angry.
     Arriving a bit sooner.

It has slowed my pace and given me peace.

Not long after that I started hearing Christian leadership teachers talk about a core characteristic of effective leaders: hustle.

Great.

Don't hurry but hustle. Slow down but don't drag.

It has sort of felt to me--over these many months--like I'm supposed to move slow and fast at the same time. But like so many parts of the Christian journey I'm discovering there is a tension. A back and forth within healthy guardrails.

There are times I need to be still. Slow ALL the way down.

And there are times I need to be on the move. IMMEDIATELY.

But the encouragement I want to pass on is that there is never a time to hurry. At least for me.

A couple weeks ago I made plans with my younger daughter to see the latest Star Wars movie on its opening weekend in a theater that was about an hour away. In IMAX. (It was amazing, by the way!) The logistics were complicated. I had three places to be before we met in a parking lot near the interstate because she was coming in from a couple of hours the other way. We had a 5 minute window.

And I was running late. Like 10 minutes late.

So I had to hurry. Not hustle. Hurry.

And I felt wrong. On the inside. The 30 minutes of hurry absolutely messed me up. And (here's my giant takeaway) it stayed with me for a solid hour afterwards.

I was internally a wreck.

Anti-shalom.

And that's when I realized and appreciated that for quite some time I've been growing at "ruthlessly eliminating hurry from my life" enough that I could recognize HURRY SICKNESS for what it was.

Sick.

So I encourage you, knowing that most of you who read this regularly are very busy people, to do as Eugene Peterson translates the invitation of Jesus:

"Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me--watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace... Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." (from Matthew 11:28-30)

Victory through Vulnerability

We love a perfectly executed moment in music, but whether or not we love the musician depends on their vulnerability, not their ability.

This is true for preachers, too. We want them to show us truths we’ve not yet seen, or inspire us to do what we know already. The better they do it, well, the better. We like great preachers, but we love great pastors. The difference is often found in vulnerability.

When I lead from a position of strength and authority, I might feel important, but a negative--perhaps unintentional consequence is that sometimes I make others feel less important.

Vulnerability does the opposite. It makes me feel less important and others feel highly trusted—more important.

In worship leadership there are several ways to do this. Probably way more than these few I’ve learned:

• Tell appropriate stories where God is the hero and I am the one being rescued. (Not where I am the rescuer!)
• Sing songs that affect me emotionally and show the emotion.
• Own up to mistakes and failures. Everyone knows when I blow it. To hide it is to be prideful. To acknowledge it is to be vulnerable.Here’s the surprise. When I “let my hair down,” I lead better. But when I hide my flaws, I fail even more.

This platform behavior has to be consistent with daily living. I say things to my team all the time like:

• “I’m terrible at details. Help me. Ask me questions. When you ask about a detail, you make all of us better.”
• “I am a terrible solo leader. Without a team around me, I would be useless.” 
• “I can’t do much of anything but sing and tell others what to do. I don’t play guitar or piano or…” 

This maximizes my weaknesses and maximizes the contribution of others.

Of course the apostle Paul was right, “I am glad to boast about my weakness, so that the power of Christ can work through me.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

And C.S. Lewis captured it beautifully: “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken… Wrap [your heart] carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.”

How about you? How do you experience vulnerability when being led? How do you do it in healthy ways when leading?

Lower the Stage; Raise the Seats

In our fallenness we tend to venerate people based on their platform. 

This is so unhealthy. Whether Labron James in the NBA or Tom Brady in the NFL or Scarlett Johansson on the movie screen… we give them authority they haven't earned. In some churches this even happens with preachers and worship leaders.

All of this is in direct contradiction with the teachings of our faith. God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. The teaching of James the brother of Jesus is that you are to “Humble yourselves before the Lord, and He will lift you up in honor.”

In Romans 12 we’re told to outdo one another in honor. 

And so in worship ministry, our effectiveness is maximized by "lowering the platform." Doing everything we can to make ourselves appear the way we really are—the same as everyone else. Here are some things we do:

• I ask the folks on our team to greet people before the services. First time I saw this happen in earnest was at Passion City Church. It made a huge impact.
• I sometimes encourage people to scan the crowd from the platform and pray for the needs they see, and even the ones they don’t know about. 
• We don’t call it a stage; we call it a platform. The platform is for truth. The stage is for actors. (This is a general principle; we don’t punch people for calling it a stage!)
• Speaking of the platform, we approach it from the congregation, not the “wings.” The leadership emerges from the congregation; it doesn’t appear from some mysterious place.

There’s a second half to this, though. We want to both lower the platform AND raise the seats.

The role of the congregation must be core to the planning of--and execution of--the experience of worship.

Philippians 2:3 says, “Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves.”

When those of us on the platform think of those in the seats "as better than ourselves," the whole paradigm shifts. We aren’t trying to impress them with our musicality, but with the reality of Who God is. What Jesus has done. The role of the Spirit in the gathering and in our lives. 

If our goal is to get the souls in the room to sing about Jesus, it reduces nervousness and surpasses pride. A double win!

A handful of practical ways we do this:

• Songs are choses to give voice to the congregation. 
• Keys are picked so the most people can sing, not so the person on stage sounds great.
• Very rarely do we include “presentational pieces” in our services. If we do, the goal is to have someone sing something a congregation can’t or have instrumental music that points people to scripture.
• The loudest voice in the room — both by virtue of instrumentation and audio mix — is that of the congregation.
• Nearly every Sunday there is a moment (or more) of a cappella singing.

Help one another out. Leave a comment. How do you do this? See it done in other places? Let’s build a tribe inspired to serve “so every soul sings."

Incarnational Worship Leading

One of the most amazing things about Christmas, the thing that seems to posture me toward wonder every single year, is that Jesus left the glory of heaven and the certainly of the celestial, to walk in the dust of Palestine and submit himself to the whims of the humans He created.

Theologians call that the Incarnation.

"Light of the world, you stepped down into darkness," Tim Hughes wrote.

Long before Here I Am to Worship came along, one of Jesus' best friends described Him this way: "The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood." (John 1:14, The Message)

Perhaps this is the moment you expect me to talk about how the One who left perfection for crucifixion is worthy of our worship. And He is, without a doubt!

Actually, this is where I want to encourage those of us in ministry--volunteer, part-time or full time--to be like Jesus.

Move into the neighborhood.

In some ways that's a very practical thing. For example, if you're just starting your full-time ministry with a church, live where the people live. In my neighborhood there are 6 other church families. I don't have to drive to our community every day, I live in it. 

In other ways it's more strategic. When I started at Woodburn, my Pastor gave me a brilliant directive: take the first six months and do everything you can to learn the people. "Become a sociologist," he said. And after those first months are over, keep doing it.

And as fantastic as that counsel was, I've learned from him how to go one step further.

Don't just learn who you are leading in worship, be one of them. Don't just understand the neighborhood, move into the neighborhood.

Instead of just living among them, do life with them.

Don't just sing stories about Jesus to them, sing the story of Jesus into their story. Over their story. When you're leading a song of hope, look into the eyes of the folks who need hope. 

Quickly, here are 3 ways you can get started:

   1) Before and after you get on the stage, visit with people in the seats. Connect with them. It's more important to be part of the congregation than part of the team on stage.

   2) Find ways to be with people outside of the church building. Be intentional.

   3) Learn and speak the language of your church. Don't talk like an outsider; become an insider.

Bottom line: Be real; be normal. Jesus came to be one of us, so learn to be one of them.

Ruthlessly Eliminate...

When pastor/author John Ortberg asked his mentor, the late Dallas Willard, what the next step of growth was for him, Dallas said, "John, you must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from you life."

Interesting thought, eh?

I've not found a single time in all the New Testament when Jesus hurried.

Maybe it's time we become more like Jesus in that regard too.

Two more thoughts:
1) Hurry is not the same as hustle. Hurry is reckless; hustle is controlled.
2) Hurry is not the same as fast. While Jesus didn't hurry, he did move purposefully and, at times, with immediacy.

If this is ringing true in your spirit, I have a follow up question: shouldn't we ruthlessly eliminate hurry from our worship?

Songs can still be up-tempo.
Segments of the service can still move quickly.
There is a difference between dead time and stillness.

Seems to me that frantic is the enemy of shalom.

Which makes me wonder, what could we do in modern worship to return a greater sense of shalom (the perfect peace found in living at the timing of God) to our gatherings?

For example, I can tell if we don't have any songs with turnarounds, interludes, or a cappella singing in them. All of those things seem to slow time down. And the presence of the Spirit is often most palpable in those very moments.

Bottom line: if Dallas Willard were to visit your church, would he say "You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your worship"?

All Puffed Up

I'm an enneagram 3 -- the Achiever or Performer.

I know this because of the underlying motivations that drive me. Some are beautiful and healthy. Others are hideous and sick.

One of the traits that frustrates the daylights out of me is my need to appear impressive. I hate this about myself. God's grace has grown me out of it in some powerful ways. (Which means there's hope for all of us!) But sometimes it still shows up.

I want people to be impressed when I'm around them. I am tempted to name drop, or tell stories that make me look better than I am.

This is hard, confessing this to you. But I'm doing it for a reason.

You see, one of the ways I battle this inward struggle is to remind myself of some principles. I often remind my teams of the same. Maybe they can help you, too:

1) I have to be more concerned with my Savior than my singing;
2) I have to be more impressed with Jesus than I hope to impress others with myself; and
3) I can't try to impress; simply express.

Let's go back to the first -- I have to be more concerned with my Savior than my singing. If you're not a singer, this still applies. Whether you serve in the tech booth, the band, the preschool classroom, or the deacon body... strive to be more concerned with the Giver than the gift. Always.

And the second -- I have to be more impressed with Jesus than I hope to impress others with myself. In other words, my the more consumed I am with Jesus, the less concerned I'll be with me. Make Jesus the focus of your time when you serve, when you wash dishes, or when you hang out with family and friends. Impress people with Jesus.

And finally -- I can't try to impress, simply express. When I'm on stage, or leading a meeting, or sitting with friends, I'm at my best when I don't care if others know I'm at my best. But still, I have a stewardship responsibility to express my faith and my gifts clearly. I can express clearly without trying to impress broadly.

Romans 11:25 says it clearly enough that I should understand it better by now: "I want you to understand this mystery, dear brothers and sisters, so that you will not feel proud (puffed up) about yourselves."

And so this is, perhaps, a tiny facet of pursuing humility.

Willing to comment? Where do you struggle with being puffed up? And perhaps even better, what helps you keep from being puffed up? I'd LOVE to see what works for you!

I don't need to come to rehearsal, right?

I've been at my church for more than six years. That's a pretty long time, according to the average ministry tenure.

And nearly every week -- by now that's about 325 of them -- someone will either ask the question or make the assumption: I don't need to come to rehearsal, right? Every week.

I get it. We're busy people. Conflicts are on the calendar before we accept the invitation to be on the team, and far more often conflicts arise after we've accepted.

Not only that, but some folks -- especially those in the tech booth or on more orchestral instruments -- don't feel like they are core to the rehearsal process. I understand. I play tuba. If there's a rehearsal, I can probably skip it and look over the music on my own. There'd be no discernible difference in the quality of my playing on a Sunday.

But there are lots of reasons to be in rehearsal. More than just the five below, but when chatting with a young member of our team recently these five came to mind.

If you're part of a team in our church or another, I encourage you to consider this list. And if you're the leader of a team, maybe they can help you serve those you lead. I'd sure love to see any reasons you'd add to my quick handful!

1) You get to prepare. For those in the tech booth, this is the only practice you get. A guitar player can practice at home with his instrument. A sound/graphics/lighting/camera operator can only practice when there are people on stage, doing their thing. Back to my example above, I can practice my tuba part, but I can't practice playing with the ensemble. This is a big deal.

2) Everyone else gets to practice with you. Singers/band members get used to the mix from the sound tech, the singers gets used to taking their cues from the screens, the pianist knows where to leave in/take out a part duplicated with the electric guitar lead part, and on and on I could go. You change the dynamics when you're in the room. That affects everyone else--positively!

3) Changes are made in rehearsals, not on Sundays. This can affect anyone in any role, but our context it usually comes to the tech team. We'll change screen content (scripture verses in interludes) and backgrounds, lighting, gain structure on the sound console--which affects in-ear monitors, and even who sings when or what instruments are in or out. In other words, rehearsal isn't just to get what we know to do right, it's to create together what is possible. If you're not with us, our creativity is limited.

4) There's a cascading effect to #3. There are implications for others on the team. So if we change a background for a song, then lighting design is affected. If the vocals are tight and the moment is just right, we might have the band drop out. If the band is struggling in a spot, we might simplify or any number of other solutions. Everyone being together brings clarity and helps us get everything together.

5) There is a communal effort to leading worship. We're a team. The vocalists, instrumentalists, and tech crew are all on one team. We practice together. We pray together. We do life together. It's hard to do things together when one of us is missing.

Of course things come up. Sickness happens. Family obligations change at the last minute. School schedule things at the last minute.

Grace abounds! That's why we lead graciously, because we are the moment-by-moment recipients of grace. But grace without truth is not Biblical grace. I'm simply offering a little perspective that may be missing in your journey.

Oh, one more thing. If you're on the team -- mine or anyone else's -- we WANT you there. We love it when you're with us. We love you. We need you.

Alright... hit me with some comments on what you'd add or why you disagree!