Tim Clark’s Blog

Many of us church leaders want to know why people have such a hard time keeping a long-term commitment to serving. However, I don’t think the problem is as much about what we are asking people to do, but about who we are asking them to be. Let me clarify:

An artist in my congregation has a real servant’s heart and a long history of cleaning toilets (and other such tasks) in past churches. She’s had no problem serving in that way, but in a recent conversation I had with her, she wondered out loud if the Lord could ever use the gifts and passions resident within her for the sake of the local church.

When we started to explore the possible avenues in which she could express her artistic talents in our little faith community, she started to tear up. The church slots she was used to being asked to fill were not in the arts.  But I could think of many ways that her unique gifts could be stewarded well to resource God’s specific call to our church: In adult worship, kids ministry, communication, design, etc…

So we came up with a handful of ideas that she is going to run with; and she’s going to get her artistic friends to run with them as well. We’ll be a more complete church because they are passionately involved by being part of the body that they were designed to be.

But here is the kicker: As we talked about having a servant heart, I realized that as this young woman expresses her distinct design, if we need someone to vacuum the floor or clean the bathrooms, she will be more than happy to do so. She will joyfully engage any servant-tasks that need to be done, because her primary assignment will correspond to her primary gifting and calling.

In other words, I can clean toilets all day long when I know my value is not simply what I am willing to do, but that I am treasured for who God has created me to be.

When we treat people as gifted (and as gifts), they usually don’t mind being asked to serve in other areas, too. But when we treat people like servants, they will eventually loose passion and burn out.

Remember: We are all called to have a servant heart, but we should never treat anyone else like a servant.

Multi-campus churches seem to be the hot thing right now among exploding churches, and among churches that want to be exploding. I have no criticism about the strategic value of this practice—I’m sure it makes sense for some, and out of necessity we even embraced a second location during the school year—but something I read in the Bible the other day addressed the motivation for expanding ministry this way.

In 1 Kings 12 and 2 Chronicles 11 we read about a tale of two kings. Rehoboam was the son of Solomon and leader of the Southern Kingdom Judah, and Jeroboam was the newly installed monarch of the newly formed Northern Kingdom of Israel. Though each of them seems to be paying a pretty steep stupid tax (and I would suggest neither as any kind of model for leadership), they also both set up multiple “ministry venues”, but for radically different reasons. And I want to be clear—I’m considering the motivation here, not the model.

Jeroboam created two worship sites because he was worried about losing people. While there is an obvious serious problem with his idol-centered-theology, there is something else going on here: Multiple venues were all about keeping people in his kingdom.

Rehoboam installed commanders in various towns to distribute resources and protection among the people for whom he was responsible. Multiple venues were all about serving (ministering to) people who chose to be in his kingdom, and about providing a place for the next generation to exercise leadership.

Ministry strategies are as varied as the sand on the beach. But with every new tactic employed, we must ask, and honestly answer, “why we are doing what we do?” If we create new venues to simply extend our own ministry reach or build the kingdom of our church, we should repent.

On the other hand, if we multiply campuses so that we can serve our people better and develop the next generations of leaders who will be ready to pastor God’s people, we may be tapping into something positive.

Here is a great way to answer the motivation question: Are we ready to release our campuses to be full-fledged congregations as soon as the Lord impresses us to do so? Or, does our soul struggle with the thought because of all the money and energy and leadership that have been given to the endeavor?

One of my heroes, Ralph More, recently wrote “Healthy movements don’t own their church plants, they accept them as peers.” So, do we intend for a campus to “grow up” and become a self-sustaining autonomous congregation, or do we act like dysfunctional parents who make sure their kids always need them, not recognizing that healthy independence and intentional separation may be the best way to support generational Kingdom extension?

These are just some random things I’m thinking about this Monday morning. I honestly haven’t read a ton about multi-site, so this isn’t a critique of the practice, but just a challenge for the motivation. Maybe you can help support, correct, or refine my thoughts?

As I work with college students, one of the recurring issues I tend to deal with is initiative. As much as I may love an individual, I’ve discovered I can’t do much to develop a young adult who has little or no initiative. I’m just not built to be a hand-holder (some are, and thank God for them). For me, proper stewardship of my life dictates that I can help direct a moving vehicle, but I need to stay away from attempting to steer parked cars.

But even among those with initiative, I’ve found there is a nuanced difference in the type of initiative they show:

Reactive initiative happens when you realize there is something you want, or need, and you change course to take care of it on the spot. Someone showing reactive initiative may be driving along and see a person in a parking lot with whom they have been wanting to connect, so they make an instant decision to adjust their schedule, whip a U-Turn, park and jump out of the car to have a 10 minute conversation.

If that seems like a no-brainer to you, then you have at least some level of initiative. Many people would notice the person and just keep driving while making a mental note to email or call that person later (and then forget about it in 5 minutes.)

Proactive initiative, however, happens when that person knows they want to connect with an individual, and therefore writes it down on his or her to-do list and then takes time to set up a lunch appointment.

I’m not saying reactive initiative is always a bad thing—most of us react to things occasionally. But I do think the total lack of proactive initiative is something with which to be very concerned, because it usually implies a lack of discipline.

And while initiative is really important for a leader, discipline is non-negotiable. I work with a lot of twentysomethings who are self-motivated and highly creative, but without learning discipline they will never realize their full potential.

I have a little test I do with many of the students in my life (I’m giving away secrets now!): I get quite a few requests for discipleship meetings, and I often answer those requests by saying that I do my devotions at a particular Starbucks at 6:30 on a certain morning, and that they are welcome to join me—and then I never remind them.

While many take up that challenge and set themselves to be there, I’m always amazed at those who do not. No matter how much they protest that they really want to get together with me, they just can’t bring themselves to remember the time, or to pull themselves out of bed that early.

In a slightly different variation, when some see me at a service they try to set an appointment then and there. I always ask them to email or call me later in the week. I don’t do this because I can’t figure out my schedule when they ask, but I’m challenging them to develop a life of proactive initiative as opposed to simply reactive initiative. I get maybe 50% (at most) who follow through.

Initiative is good, but much like intention it must be driven by the engine of discipline, or it will produce very little impact in or through a person’s life.

Last week I wrote some thoughts about a respected Pastor, Tom Ferguson, who went to be with the Lord. Yesterday John Wooden, arguably the greatest college basketball coach of all time, died. I never had the opportunity to meet him, but as someone who wants to be a good ‘leader-coach’ and as a man who wants to be upright and godly, John Wooden’s life and work deeply inspired me.

The following words are taken from an article Rick Reilly wrote ten years ago in his Sports Illustrated column. Occasionally, I run across it in my files as I’m preparing for a sermon, and I re-read it, and weep. God bless you, John Wooden; thanks for the example!

On the 21st of the month, the best man I know will do what he always does on the 21st of the month. He’ll sit down and pen a love letter to his best girl. He’ll say how much he misses her and loves her and can’t wait to see her again.

Then he’ll fold it once, slide it in a little envelope and walk into his bedroom. He’ll go to the stack of love letters sitting there on her pillow, untie the yellow ribbon, place the new one on top and tie the ribbon again. The stack will be 180 letters high then, because the 21st will be 15 years to the day since Nellie, his beloved wife of 53 years, died.

In her memory, he sleeps only on his half of the bed, only on his pillow, only on top of the sheets, never between; with just the old bedspread they shared to keep him warm.

There has never been another coach like Wooden, quiet as an April snow and square as a game of checkers; loyal to one woman, one school, one way; walking around campus in his sensible shoes and Jimmy Stewart morals.

He’d spend a half hour the first day of practice teaching his men how to put on a sock. “Wrinkles can lead to blisters,” he’d warn. These huge players would sneak looks at one another and roll their eyes. Eventually, they’d do it right. “Good,” he’d say. “And now for the other foot.”

Of the 180 players who played for him, Wooden knows the whereabouts of 172. Of course, it’s not hard when most of them call, checking on his health, secretly hoping to hear some of his simple life lessons so that they can write them on the lunch bags of their kids, who will roll their eyes.

“Discipline yourself, and others won’t need to,” Coach would say. “Never lie, never cheat, never steal,” and “Earn the right to be proud and confident.”

If you played for him, you played by his rules: Never score without acknowledging a teammate. One word of profanity and you’re done for the day. Treat your opponent with respect.

He believed in hopelessly out-of-date stuff that never did anything but win championships. No dribbling behind the back or through the legs. “There’s no need,” he’d say.

No UCLA basketball number was retired under his watch. “What about the fellows who wore that number before? Didn’t they contribute to the team?” he’d say.

No long hair, no facial hair. “They take too long to dry, and you could catch cold leaving the gym,” he’d say. That one drove his players bonkers.

One day, All-America center Bill Walton showed up with a full beard.  “It’s my right,” he insisted. Wooden asked if he believed that strongly.  Walton said he did. “That’s good, Bill,” Coach said. “I admire people who have strong beliefs and stick by them, I really do. We’re going to miss you.” Walton shaved it right then and there. Now Walton calls once a week to tell Coach he loves him.

It’s always too soon when you have to leave the condo and go back out into the real world, where the rules are so much grayer and the teams so much worse.

As Wooden shows you to the door, you take one last look around. The framed report cards of his great-grandkids, the boxes of jellybeans peeking out from under the favorite wooden chair, the dozens of pictures of Nellie.

He’s almost 90 now. You think a little more hunched over than last time.  Steps a little smaller. You hope it’s not the last time you see him. He smiles. “I’m not afraid to die,” he says. “Death is my only chance to be with her again.”

Problem is, we still need him here.