Note to business owners: it’s not accurate to say “We offer free wi-fi” if you’re wi-fi never works.
All Too Familiar
Recently I read Michelle Huneven’s Search: A Novel. It’s fascinating and uncomfortable. It’s the story of a church’s search for a new pastor.
The narrative centers on Dana Potowski, a restaurant critic, food writer, and longtime church member who surprisingly ends up on the search committee. It’s unexpected since Potowski hasn’t attended worship in months, and the outgoing pastor has encouraged her to apply to serve on the committee.
Search is bizarre in some respects, though not inherently. The basic plot of a church looking for a new pastor is quite common—too common really. It’s bizarre because I’m a conservative evangelical reading about a Unitarian Universalist Church, the most theologically liberal denomination in North America. Moreover, this congregation is based in Southern California and fully reflects the region’s cultural and ideological progressivism.
Imagine a church that doesn’t believe in salvation, that Jesus from the dead, or that God should be referred to as “He.” Throw in a hodgepodge of secular commitments and values and you start to wonder if it’s appropriate to call this a church, even in the sociological sense of the word.
Here’s where the book isn’t unusual or bizarre: in its pastoral search, it displays many of the same tendencies of search committees in conservative, evangelical churches.
Who gets to be on the committee? Let’s set aside the question of whether search committees should be standing committees (like a Deacon Board, Official Board, or some other established entity) or committees formed just for this task. The composition of the search committee is the most determinative, earthly factor of which candidate will be presented to a church and ultimately be hired.
We would reasonably expect that such committees shouldn’t be a beauty contest. People entrusted with the task of locating, interviewing, and recommending a church’s next pastor should have some basic qualifications. One would think.
The protagonist, Dana, serves on the church committee after having missed services for close to three months, for no reason other than annoyance and indifference. Even her secular, Jewish husband Jack questions her involvement: “I thought you weren’t so interested in church anymore. You hardly go.”
But then again, Dana’s smart. She received seminary education twenty years prior. She has the support of the outgoing pastor, who admittedly is already on cruise control. Does Dana seem an obvious choice for the search committee?
Regardless of what we think, she believes she belongs. “Would I be serving the church or my own ends?” (She plans to take notes during the search and get a book out of it—she’s an author, after all.) “If I got material for a book…who could say I hadn’t earned it? And honestly, I wanted to be on that committee: I wanted a say in who the next minister would be. I wanted an inside seat to the process.”
If committee members with agendas are to be avoided, so is identity politics. However, choosing members who will cater to a specific group seems baked into the philosophy of many pastoral searches.
Sam Rourke-Jolley is chosen for the committee. They needed a Rourke. After all, the church started in a Rourke’s basement over 100 years earlier. Then there’s Riley Kincaid, the handbell choir director. His ministry must be protected even though it isn’t widely popular. There’s Belinda. Sure, she’s elderly and in declining health, but she’s been around longer than anyone. There’s Jennie, the bi-racial millennial who says, “I’ll rep the young.” And who could forget Curtis, the same-sex partner of another member? Curtis should make the committee interesting; he’s not even a member and comes from another denominational background. But he represents another group.
When our churches choose committees (assuming one is selected) what criteria does the average church member feel qualifies one for this task?
What are they looking for? Arroyo Unitarian Universalist Community Church (“AUUCC”) members have a spectrum of desires, like any church. For nearly 30 years they were served well by Pastor Sparlo’s interesting sermons and effective administrative leadership. Under their nearly 10 years with Pastor Tom, the sermons lacked something. He is generally well-liked, but he is old, white, and heterosexual. Maybe it’s time for something different.
While congregational surveys and outside consultation indicate that AUUCC needs someone strong in the pulpit and able to manage a larger staff, the committee is divided. Some want more of Tom; some want a return to Sparlo. Others think it’s time for a woman—ideally a lesbian with a strong commitment to social justice. The food critic likes the resume of the pastor who has a bread-baking ministry. The younger committee members like, well, the younger candidates. The guy with the evangelical background wants someone who will tell us what God thinks about things.
One perspective committee members share is that their church is a catch. It has a great history and desirable location. Surely many candidates will be interested! They eventually receive just enough interest to divide them. They learn that their church is the second choice of several applicants. Some of the most interested candidates are the least experienced and have the most complex resumes.
They narrow the list several times. They have trouble reaching consensus. A committee member has a stroke. Another has trouble making meetings due to an unreliable babysitter. Another keeps failing to complete his committee duties due to a complicated relationship. The eventual candidate visit that leads to a hire is disorderly and poorly planned—according to the candidate.
I don’t want to spoil the conclusion, but generally things are messy by the end.
Some Counsel
All pastoral searches have challenges. Seldom does anything go exactly according to plan. But the plot of Search discloses errors I’ve seen through the years. I’ve never served on a search committee, but I’ve consulted closely with three or four churches on theirs. Moreover, I’ve heard first and secondhand accounts from a few dozen others that I think looked more like AUUCC’s experience than not.
But let me highlight some positive aspects of AUUCC’s process that are instructive.
Committee members are told upfront by multiple parties, take this seriously. They are told that they will have to commit a few hundred hours of time to the process over the course of a year. If they don’t think they can commit that, then they should step down.
Committee members are told that they must keep an open mind at every step of the process. They’re warned not to get set on as specific racial/ethnic profile or age (as well as some other descriptors that Free Will Baptists would obviously exclude, like a gay or trans person).
Committee members must sign a covenant that stipulates the following:
We will joyfully undertake the search for a new senior minister. We acknowledge the substantial commitment required and agree to give our time and energy willingly, with humility and mutual respect. We covenant to attend all meetings and meet all deadlines; listen deeply and respond thoughtfully; refrain from dominating the discussion and draw out those with quiet, less forceful voices; stay at the table when the process becomes challenging; present a unified front; honor the confidentiality of those being evaluated.
Some of this may seem like common sense, but it’s counsel too seldom practiced.
I also appreciate the lengthy process that AUUCC commits to, seeking not to rush and make a foolish hire. Granted, they have the benefit of an associate pastor, and their senior minister has agreed to stay through the duration of the search. Still, if committees could avoid dragging their feet, while also not succumbing to hastiness (sometimes born of pressure from impatient congregants), churches would be much better served.
Despite these positives, the book serves much more as a cautionary tale for search committees. Many missteps are made, some more grievous than others. Yet it began with three key flaws: (1) the composition of the search committee; (2) an ambiguous profile of what would make a good minister; (3) deviating from the covenant they made at the beginning of the process.
In a post later this week, I’ll share more about how churches might avoid such foundational errors.
Dumb (Unhelpful) Things Christians Say
On Wednesday my congregation has been discussing the theme of reaching youth for Christ. We’ve used Kevin DeYoung’s lucid, compact book Amaze Them with God: Winning the Next Generation for Christ as a guide. His five keys are spot-on: Grab them with passion, Win them with love, Hold them with holiness, Challenge them with truth, and Amaze them with God. I heartily commend the book. As churches across North America gray, we need biblically based insight to remedy our struggles in reaching and keeping youth.
While each of DeYoung’s propositions deserves reflection, let me confess: I’m not a fan of the phrase “the next generation.”
First, be suspicious of any phrase frequently used within Christian and non-Christian circles. While common grace could explain the overlap, we swim in the same cultural currents. It’s not surprising that similar cognitive distortions and ambiguities would plague us both. While some are invested in the contemporary assault on language, and others simply struggle from lack of precision, the outcome still leads down a dead-end road.
Second, can anyone provide a clear definition of who the next generation is? Gen Alpha? Gen Z? Millennials? Gen-X? Does it depend upon who uses the phrase? Does it depend on the generational make-up of the organization concerned about said group? If the next generation includes more than one age-group, then shouldn’t we say, “generations?”
Third, should we take people seriously who claim they want to reach, convert, enlist, hire, and/or educate the next generation if they only start talking about it once their own power, position, and/or credibility is threatened? Too many only get serious about the next generation when the look in the mirror and realize that they’ve skipped caring for a generation or two, then they scramble desperately to start getting the messaging right.
Fourth, “the next generation” can be easily become condescending and patronizing, though it’s intended otherwise. To speak with interest in the next generation can be an expression of concern and appreciation, yet if that concern and appreciation isn’t coupled with actual engagement, instruction, mentoring, and eventually opportunity, then it becomes a clanging gong or tingling cymbal.
Finally, for these reasons at least, if I can’t persuade everyone to adopt a moratorium on saying “the next generation,” can I at least urge us to use this phrase more judiciously? Let’s say exactly who we have in mind and for what purpose.
The not-so-obvious truth is that any living group of people aren’t literally “the next generation.” They’re here! They already exist. They’re another generational cohort (or more) within our midst. If one insists, go ahead and call it “the emerging generation.” Whatever we say, let’s understand that our obligations and opportunities are here and now. If we don’t, then we’re all going to be 65 or 70 years old, looking down across three or four generational groups, still unclear on which is, in fact, “the next generation.”
Currently Reading:
Thomas Schreiner, Covenant and God’s Purpose for the World
Quote of the Week:
The distinction between peaceful advocacy even of noxious ideas and those who engage in violence in the name of such ideas is fundamental to notions of fairness, justice and the ability to speak freely. But if you really want to claim that a public figure has "blood on their hands" every time someone murders in the name of ideas and ideologies they support, then the list of people you should be accusing or murder is a very, very long one indeed. (Glenn Greenwald)