Author: Ben Reed (page 26 of 86)

On Grace, truth, & not being a jerk

March 8, 2012 / / 12 Comments

I recently said this on Twitter and Facebook:

You’re better off maintaining a friendship than winning a theological argument.

Apparently, that’s something that’ll stir people up. 🙂

Some people view that statement as an attempt to comprise the truth. Let it be known: that was never my intent.

photo credit: Creative Commons user Sepehr Ehsani

I want to balance grace and truth. And I think that means a few things.

How to balance grace & truth

 1. Don’t be a jerk. Even if the truth you espouse is rooted in the Bible.

2. Know what’s theologically vital and what’s not. The non-vital truths should be held with an open hand. The vital truths should not be held in a fist ready to sock someone in the gut with, though.

3. Know who you’re talking to. “Exegeting” your audience is key. Seminary students are not the same audience as the barista behind the bar at your local coffee shop.

4. Stand for truth. Don’t compromise. Balancing doesn’t mean you have to callous your convictions.

5. Be patient with people. How long did it take you to arrive on the theological camp where you now reside?

6. Be humble. Even when you know you’re right.

7. Remember that destroying a relationship leaves no chance of redemption. I’m not downplaying God’s sovereignty here…if God wants to save them, we can’t stop him. Are there times when people part ways and don’t do ministry together? Sure. Are there times when beliefs cause us to head in different directions? You bet. But destroying a relationship isn’t wise or redemptive.

Balance. Fight hard for both grace and truth.

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. – John 1:14, emphasis mine

Question: 

Which do you tend to gravitate more towards: grace or truth?

 * photo credit: Creative Commons user Sepehr Ehsani

 

5 Things You Should Be Careful Saying to your Pastor

March 7, 2012 / / 26 Comments

You may have caught my 5 Things a Pastor Should Never Say or my 7 Phrases a Pastor Should Regularly Say Off-Stage.

Today’s a bit different, though. Today, it’s all about you.

image credit: Creative Commons user Kolby Schnelli

Because sometimes you forget that we pastors are people, too. We’re not superhumans. We’re not mini gods. We’re people, with families. We have hobbies. We have good days and bad. We have days when we feel close to God, and days when He seems distant. We have good ideas and awful ones. We have great church members…and ones like you. (I’m kidding…)

We don’t always know what we’re doing. We’re often outsiders in many conversations, because…when your pastor shows up, you change the subject. We have struggles, too.

I want to help you out, though. Because I know you don’t want to say the wrong thing to your pastor, right? You don’t want to inadvertently offend the guy who’s getting ready to go on stage.

5 Things You Shouldn’t Say to your Pastor

1. What do you even do all week?

This question is loaded with the assumption that pastors sit around, drink coffee, and read their Bible all week in a nice, quiet office. Ahh…how nice that would be. 🙂 The life of a pastor is much more complicated. We’re helping people understand the deepest, most profound aspects of their lives, with all of the junk that will be dredged up because of those conversations. We’re leading teams of people. We’re active in our communities. We’re slating announcements and videos. We’re crafting web pages. We’re recruiting leaders. And…oh yeah, most of us preach and teach regularly. So we study.

2. You just work one day/week, right?

This one is similar to the first, but there’s an intended sense of humor here. Here’s the truth: that line was barely funny the first time. I hope you know that pastors work much more than one day/week. Sarcasm always has an intended angle of truth, right? So every time you say it, there’s a small part of you that believes it. So if you truly don’t believe it…don’t say it.

3. Your job must be easy.

Maybe you’ve never said this, but I guarantee you’ve thought it. You feel like if you were a pastor, life would be much easier. And to be honest, maybe it would. There are much worse places to work. But every occupation has its difficulties, too. Just because pastors get to meet and greet on Sunday mornings doesn’t mean that their work is so easy throughout the week. We do have to deal with people like you, after all. 🙂

4. Why can’t you meet with me when I want?

If you want help, you get it, right? If it’s counseling help you need, you’ll take an hour off of work to get it. If you need your teeth worked on, you’ll schedule an appointment with your dentist at his convenience. If you need your car worked on, you’ll drop it off when they’re open. So why do you expect a pastor is “open” 24 hours/day? If the issue you need help with is that vital, then it’s worth bending your schedule around.

5. That wasn’t my favorite sermon.

This is one of those post-sermon no-nos. Most pastors know when they missed the mark. They don’t need the reminder from you, especially right after they preached. The time right after preaching is typically a vulnerable time for most pastors. Try to find something to encourage them on, rather than picking apart their sermon.

Throughout this list, I’m not encouraging dishonesty. Don’t lie to your pastor. I’m also not saying that pastors are above difficult questioning. Sometimes that’s needed.

But if you’re going to question your pastor, fill it with grace and love.

Question:

Pastors: what have you heard that made your skin crawl?

Non-pastors: what have you said that afterwards you thought, “Whoops…shouldn’t have said that!”?

*image credit: Creative Commons user Kolby Schnelli

 

7 Phrases a Pastor Should Regularly Say Off-Stage

March 6, 2012 / / 27 Comments

I recently wrote a post relaying phrases a pastor should never say.

Though this is important, there are also things that a pastor should regularly be in the habit of saying. And not the passing, “Good to see ya” that every pastor says. Not the trivial phrases that everyone expects.

image credit: Creative Commons, Franklin Photos

There are phrases that every pastor should say that take you off guard. These words help build culture and show what a local church values. As they say, “As the pastor goes, so goes the local church.” (nobody that I know has said that. It just sounds catchy and works here) They speak volumes beyond what a pastor communicates from stage.

 7 Phrases a Pastor Should Say Off-Stage

1. I’ll return that email tomorrow.

There are certain things that are pressing in nature. Everything else should be relegated to email…which can be checked and responded to tomorrow. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither were the problems you’re dealing with in this moment. Most of the time, your marriage isn’t going to be fixed if we wait until tomorrow. Your job crisis won’t go away before the sun comes up tomorrow. And your parenting woes can wait until later, too. It’s okay to say, “Tomorrow.”

2. No, I can’t meet on Tuesday evening. That’s my family time.

Setting aside time to be with your family is vital. Letting others know that you’ve made a priority out of spending quantity and quality time with your family is highly important, because your congregation takes its cues from you. If you want them to value their family, you’ve got to value yours.

3. I need rest, too.

Pastor, you’re not a superhuman. We need rest, too. And if we want others to experience the natural rhythms of life, and honor God with their rest, we’ve got to model that. Don’t work 6 days/week, and also Sunday. Take your Sabbath. The work God has called you to deserves your best, which you can’t give without adequate amounts of rest.

4. I don’t know the answer.

Pastor, you’re not a superhuman here, either. Unless you’re the Bibleman. Quit acting like you always have the answer, even when you don’t. We’re pretty good at this, aren’t we? We can fudge our way around theologically even though we have no idea what we’re talking about.

When you model humility in this area, those you lead will feel the freedom to not have every answer before they feel like they can lead. They’ll also not come to you for every answer, creating a culture of self-learners.

5. I need help.

There are certain pastors that try to do everything on their own. In the process, they cap their leadership. The local church was never meant to function under the leadership of one person. Varying gifts are utilized when others are given the chance to lead and flesh those gifts out. Pastors can’t do it on their own. They should bring others to the table. (the same goes for times in a pastor’s life when he needs spiritual/counseling/financial help. Modeling that it’s okay to ask for help in this area is an important step for pastors, too).

When you ask for help, you encourage others to do the same.

6. I value my wife more than I value my ministry.

Say this and mean it. Build your schedule around it. Block off time with her. And if you’re asked about it, don’t hesitate to let people know what you’re doing. (1 Timothy 3:4-5) Protecting your marriage is one of the most important things you can do as a pastor.

7. I don’t have time for small group either. But I make time.

You’ve got the same number of hours in a day that those you lead have. You can’t make time any more than you can make dirt. You have to take time if you want to live life in community. If this is truly a value of you and your church, then model it. Block off the time once/week to minister, and be ministered to, in authentic community.

Question:

Did I leave anything out? Anything else you think a pastor should regularly say off-stage?

* image credit: Creative Commons, Franklin Photos

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The powerful truth that defeats insecurities

March 5, 2012 / / 11 Comments

photo credit: Creative Commons user Ingesting

Like that lonely thread all by itself that you pull on an old sweater, I found myself unraveling my calling recently.

It started off innocently enough, with someone pushing back on my theology. I didn’t get prickly or defensive. I went introspective. Let me try to get you in my mode of warped thinking.

Ever heard someone tell you how they hate they could only get to the gym twice this week and think, “Geez…quit saying I’m lazy!” Or maybe you’ve heard someone mention how they’ve switched to a new, healthy way of eating and all you hear is, “You’re so irresponsible with your diet!” Or maybe someone says, “I love getting up early to read my Bible” and all you hear is a heap of condemnation thrown your way.” They say one thing…you hear another.

The unraveling begins

That’s sort of what happened recently when I was questioned about my theology. Not “questioned” as in “What do you believe about ____.” Questioned as in, “Why would you ever say ____?!?”

The thread was hanging loose and I gave it a little tug, only to have more of the thread exposed. Another little pull left more thread in my hand. Another jerk and a hole appeared in the sleeve.

I started wondering, “Am I really a theologian? Do I even have any idea what I’m talking about?” I thought, “Has God really called me to ministry? Am I being effective? Have I ever been effective?” I let my mind wander: “Why would God call me into ministry? Why would He ever use me to lead people and communicate truth?”

I’m useless. I’m worthless. I have nothing to offer.

Feeding the lie

I stopped myself.

I was being fed a Lie. And I was tossing him more snacks. With every passing thought, that Lie was hastily burrowing itself into the fabric of my identity. My identity that is deeply rooted in Christ was being unraveled and dismantled, and I was watching it happen before my eyes.

If I didn’t do something quickly, the whole sweater was about to be a pile of thread in my hands.

So I did what you have to do if you want to stop the thread: I cut it off. I didn’t allow it to do more damage. I didn’t keep pondering the theological challenge. I didn’t keep feeding the Lie. I snipped it with a pair of scissors.

I can only think that if identity insecurities crop their nasty head up in my life, they do in yours, too. When we should find our identity in being called the King’s son, we often find it in

  • being a parent
  • our career
  • our church
  • our hobby
  • our insights
  • being right
  • our theology
  • our talents

Reorienting your identity

When someone questions one of those “identities,” the thread comes loose. You find yourself either lashing out in anger or turning inwards in deep introspection.

The answer to this spiral is to root your identity not in what you’ve earned, but in who God has declared you to be.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will… – Ephesians 1:3-5 (emphasis mine)

You’re a child of the King

No longer are you outsiders and foreigners and weird cousins. You’re now a son, with all of the inheritance and blessings that a son should receive. And nobody can take that name from you. Not even you.

Let that truth fight the Lie of insecurity for you.

* photo credit: Creative Commons user Ingesting

 

 

 

The beauty of a new name

March 1, 2012 / / 3 Comments

image credit: Creative Commons Kiss the Lava

The story of the Prodigal Son, from Luke 15, is one of those stories that you’ve probably heard so often that it goes in one ear and out the other.

It’s a story that’s easily taken for granted, filed away in the folder: “I’ve got that one figured out.”

Read it too quickly and you’ll miss its beauty and depth. Check this out:

There was a man who had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.’ And he divided his property between them. Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in reckless living. And when he had spent everything, a severe famine arose in that country, and he began to be in need….But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.”’ And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. (Luke 15:11-14; 17-20)

When the Prodigal son returned home, his father didn’t greet him with a new set of rules and regulations and expectations and guilt.

Because grace doesn’t heap burdens. It releases them. Grace doesn’t tighten restrictions. It frees prodigals to receive joy. Instead of chaining, it loosens bonds. In fact, “grace” says you were in bondage before, and that now it’s time to be free.

Even when you’ve squandered your life. Even when you’ve destroyed relationships. Even when you’ve walked away from those who love you. Even when you’ve done that thing again…and again. Even when you’ve held on to bitterness. Even when you’ve acted the fool. Even when you’ve spit in the face of those who love you the most.

When what you deserve is to be cut off from the family, left out in the cold, and shut out from all blessings. When what you think is coming your way includes condemnation and shame. When your stupidity has landed you in a heaping pile of your own mess, your Father smiles and says,

“You were dead, but now you’re alive. You were lost, but now you’re found. You. Are. My. Son.”

And there it is. God rewrites your story, changes the ending, and gives you a new name.

It’s easy to find ourselves broken by life, by the choices of others, and by our own poor decisions, stuck in a hole we dug ourselves into. No matter how deep you’ve gone, how far you’ve strayed, or how many broken lives you’ve left in your path of destruction, it’s not too late.

Turn back now, and your eyes will meet a Savior running towards you with arms open and full of Joy.

* photo credit: Creative Commons user Kiss the Lava

 

5 Things a Pastor Should Never Say

February 28, 2012 / / 130 Comments

Ever heard a pastor say something that made you cringe?

We pastors say a lot. From the stage, to the phone, in an email, and in passing conversations, we are communicating with people most of our days. And while much of what we share is (hopefully) helpful, there are certain things that should never be said.

image credit: Creative Commons user The Justified Sinner

5 Things a Pastor should Never Say

1. “If it weren’t for the people, I’d love being a pastor.”

You’ve probably heard this one. In fact, you may have said it yourself. Often said in a moment of frustration or as a passing joke, this is a statement that can be incredibly hurtful to the people that need help the most. It inadvertently creates a wall between the pastor and those who are in need of grace and hope. And it makes people feel like there are problems too big to bring to their pastor.

 Truth: Being a pastor is about the people. It’s about serving and giving and loving and pouring yourself out for others.

2. “This week was so busy, I didn’t even get a chance to work on my sermon.”

This is sad, really. There are a handful of things that only the pastor can do. (qualifier: having a teaching team is an option that many churches utilize, but when it’s your week to preach, this is no excuse). Preaching is one of them. It’s not that others aren’t qualified…it’s that your role that Sunday is to preach.

Truth: Having the stage (or the pulpit, depending on your context) on a Sunday morning is a great privilege. Neglecting that gift is irresponsible.

3. “I don’t have time for a small group.”

Thankfully, our pastors at Grace have never said this. But many pastors have. Their weeks are so busy with other activities (even good things) that they don’t feel like they have time in their lives for a small group. But if relationships are vital to growth in discipleship, you’d be foolish to neglect this. And it’s hard for you to tell them that small group life is worth bending their life around if you aren’t living that.

Truth: you don’t have time to not be involved in a small group. 

4. “And my ninth point, again starting with the letter ‘W’…” Seriously, just write a book. 🙂

Truth: people will not remember all 9 points. Pick the most compelling, helpful point, and preach a sermon with that as your bottom line.

5. “Someone like you is not welcome here…”

I got a call this recently from someone, who said, “I have a friend, her name is ____. And she’s done ____. She talked with another church, and they have asked her not to come because of some stuff in her past. Is she welcome at Grace?” Honestly, I was taken aback. It literally took my breath away. I told her that there are few things in life that cause my blood to boil. This happens to be one of them.

Truth: God’s grace is huge. Minimizing it is foolish.

Question:

What have you heard a pastor say that caused you to cringe?

 * image credit: Creative Commons user The Justified Sinner

 

Leading forward

February 27, 2012 / / 3 Comments

image credit: University Archives Digital Image Collection

Joseph Reed, Pennsylvania lawyer, officer and statesman during the Revolutionary War, wrote this in a report to his wife when morale was low for Americans, and danger was high:

The justice of our cause, the hope of our success, and every other circumstance that can enliven us, must be put into the scale against those of a contrary kind, which I allow to be serious…My honor, duty, and every other tie held sacred among men, call upon me to proceed with firmness and resolution…My country will, I trust, yet be free, whatever may be our fate who are cooped up, or are in danger of being so, on this tongue of land, where we ought never to have been. (p. 201, 1776, David McCullough)

Though morale was low and danger was high, Reed was firmly planted on what he knew needed to be done. And he didn’t just continue to provide leadership to save his own hide. He had the future in mind.

“My country will, I trust, yet be free, whatever may be our fate who are cooped up…”

More often than not, though, I’m afraid most people lead with their own goodwill in mind. They lead to make sure they keep their job, move up in the ranks, and maintain the status quo. When danger rises, instead of courageously standing up and fighting, they slink back into their den, all to ready to maintain comfort. Instead of creating ripples that will extend on, they let the waves pass them by.

Leading Forward

The best leaders lead with the next generation in mind. They know that the decisions they’re making today will have great impacts on the next generation, paying their leadership forward. They realize that in the process, they’ll at times have to take the fall for what they know to be right. They know they’re sometimes just setting the stage for someone else to come behind them.

What you do will have impacts on the future. Even if what you do is cowardly.

It’s time to be resolute. Stand for what you believe in. Courageously take steps and help others to do the same. And when danger and failure arises, give them a swift Austin Powers Judo chop.

I’m thankful for men like Joseph Reed. Men whose bravery still resonates today.

* image credit: University Archives Digital Image Collection

 

The day I got into a fight with my wife’s grandmother

February 23, 2012 / / 7 Comments

There are some blog post titles that people use just to draw you in.

“Sexy” titles, if you will.

Titles that build hype, often overselling and under delivering.

This happens to not be one of those titles.

image credit: Creative Commons user Robert Daniel Ullman

It was unintentional, really. I didn’t set out that warm Saturday afternoon telling myself, “I bet Laura’s grandma and I could scrap today. She’d probably love that.”

It just sort of happened.

Round 1

We were standing beside the door, she preparing to leave. In retrospect, I should’ve just given her a hug and opened the door. We launched into a conversation about a TV show that my wife and I watch. One that she, consequently, doesn’t. Her reasons for abstaining are moral convictions, which I can completely understand and respect. With respect to the show, she doesn’t appreciate how the children interact with their parents, how the wife interacts with her husband, and some of the lifestyle decisions that characters on the show have made. She laid out her whole case in about 5 minutes.

Round 2

When she finished, I felt like she has issued an invitation to me to lay out my thoughts. As I creeped closer, though, I realized she was siren-ing me to the edge of a cliff. Like a moth drawn to that strangely-buzzing blue light, I walked right into the trap. There was no winning this one. No way I could emerge a hero of informed reason and logic. Not a chance. I was peering off the edge of a cliff.

Round 3

As words came out of my mouth, I tried to catch them. The whole time I’m talking, I’m thinking, “What are you doing?!? Back away…back away!” I got that look from my wife. I don’t even have to describe it. Husbands, you know what I’m talking about.

But it was too late. Back out now, and I look like a heel. Keep going, and I look like a heel. Close my eyes and run…that was probably the best option, but Reeds aren’t cowards. We’re a bit foolhardy sometimes, but we’re not cowards.

The point I was trying to make was this:

I don’t get my theology from a TV show.

I can watch a TV show (note: the show in question is family-friendly), and completely separate it from informing my theological framework. In fact, when I watch a show, I view it through the theological lens I’ve constructed through hard work, sweat, and tears. I strive for a theology informed deeply by the Scriptures.

I can watch a show and say, “What they’re doing there…that’s not good. That’s not how I’m going to parent.” Not in a judgmental kind of way. But in a way where I’m exercising wisdom and discernment.

I’m not watching TV as my devotional time. Nor am I watching it in hopes that they’ll somehow slip in a good word about the local church. That’s not TV’s job. That’s my job!

In fact, the moment I allow TV to twist my theology is the moment I’ve headed down a slope more slippery than the one I was peering down with my grandma-in-law.

The eye of the tiger

She stood on the other side of this argument, urging extreme caution with what we fill our minds. She warned that subtle lies slip in back doors, and make their way into our lives. TKO. She just ‘eye-of-the-tigered’ me.

I don’t wholeheartedly disagree with her. I just happen to see the other side of the coin, enjoying 30 minutes of laughter, catching a slice of culture, and not succumbing to the subtle lies. I believe that this is a generational issue more than anything else. My generation can watch a show, laugh, enjoy the story, and separate that from how we live our lives. I believe that the generation that precedes me more closely intertwines real life with media content.

I’m not sure that one of us is right and the other wrong. In fact, in that moment, I waved my white flag of surrender. And made a future note to myself:

Don’t pick a fight with a grandma. Even if you win, you’ll lose.

Question:

Where do you stand? Is it acceptable to watch a show with questionable (though not offensive, cause-you-to-stumble) content? Or should we shield our eyes from anything that could depict something less than what we want for our lives and our families?

 * image credit: Creative Commons user Robert Daniel Ullman

 

6 truths I learned from a failed presentation

February 21, 2012 / / 14 Comments

image credit: CreationSwap user Agatha Villa

If you’ve ever done any amount of public speaking, you’ve had that moment when you step on stage and have a sinking feeling that says, “What in the world am I doing here?”

Ever had that?

Whether it’s the crowd that’s staring back at you, the venue itself, your lack of preparedness, or the content you’ve been asked to deliver, you realize in the heat of the moment that you’ve been asked to do something that’s out of your comfort zone and destined for a slow death.

I had one of these opportunities just the other day. I was asked to give a presentation on a recent mission trip I led to Costa Rica. The trip was phenomenal. But in the same vein as every other post-mission-trip-story I, and you, have ever heard in my life, the gravity and beauty of the trip doesn’t translate once you’re off the field. Translation isn’t often hampered by a language barrier, though. It’s hampered because the people in the room weren’t there on the trip, they feel a bit guilty because they haven’t gone on a mission trip, they want to go on a future one but know they won’t, and they’re ready to get back to life as normal. As much as you, the mission traveler, try to engage through stories and pictures, the experience gets lost in translation.

I led off with describing a funny situation. Well…I thought it was funny. No response. So I pressed on. Dropped a few funny lines in about 5 minutes in. Nothing. About 3/4 of the way through my presentation, a cell phone went off right beside my podium. Turns out it was the president’s who was  presiding over the meeting. I made a quick-witted comment about it, which caused even me to give myself a little chuckle. No chuckle from the crowd, though. Two older guys in the back were literally sleeping. Alexander DeLarge himself sat front and center, his droopy eyes forced open against their will. A few guys were checking their cell phones, presumably because the president’s ringing phone reminded them they have some business to take care of. Things went sideways quickly, so I looked for as quick and graceful of an exit as possible.

It was through this process that I learned a lot about public speaking. Failed experiences can teach you a lot.

6 Truths I Learned from a failed Presentation

You can completely bomb, and life will go on.

I walked out of that presentation relatively unscathed. My pride was a bit scarred, but all-in-all, I was fine. My “worst fears” as far as speaking goes were realized…and I lived.

Sometimes your jokes will fall flat.

Just keep going on to your next point. Failed jokes, poorly executed initiatives, great ideas that never get off the ground…these will be normal occurrences. Take it on the chin and move on.

There’s always next time.

It’s a good source of hope knowing that if I bomb again in the future, there’s always next time. There will be other opportunities.

There’s more to life than being perfect every time.

Much more. An always-perfectly executed sermon/speech/presentation is nice…but that’s not reality. And expecting that every time just sets you up for being disappointed.

It’s not all about the money.

Especially when you’re not getting paid…and it bombs. Don’t take an opportunity just because they’re offering you money. And don’t turn one down just because they aren’t. (I know that that’s a generalization. Sometimes opportunities need to be turned down for other reasons…or accepted for monetary reasons because you need to provide for your family).

Failures can affirm God’s call on your life.

God’s call is sure, but it’s not easy. He never promises that life is going to be easy…but He does promise to always be with you. (Hebrews 13:5) Failed experiences cause you to evaluate your calling in life. I walked out of this failed experience as sure as ever that God has called me to do this. Strange, I know. But I received comfort as I examined my calling once again, reminding myself of what God’s called me to do and who He’s called me to be.

Failing at a public presentation is not the worst thing that can happen to you. Don’t let your “worst fears” keep you from doing what God’s calling you to do.

Question:

What’s been your worst experience with public speaking?

* image credit: CreationSwap user Agatha Villa

 

8 Leadership Lessons I Learned from Working in a Coffee Shop

February 20, 2012 / / 5 Comments

image credit: CreationSwap user http://www.creationswap.com/amberspung

While I was in grad school, I worked in a coffee shop. I often enjoyed an expired pastry and a hot cup of coffee as my meal. Go ahead…judge me.

Working outside of the confines of seminary kept me grounded, though.The ivory towers from which I peered onto the ground below came crashing down in the middle of a real-life conversation with a broken co-worker. Hard-line black-and-white issues revealed themselves in deep shades of gray when shared in 5-minute breaks between customers on a busy Friday morning rush. The lessons I learned making lattes, serving customers, and building relationships with coworkers marked me then, and continues to do so today.

8 Leadership Lessons I Learned from Working in a Coffee Shop

1. Hard work never hurt anyone.

Going to class was stimulating for my mind. But being on my feet, doing physical work was good for my soul. Laugh all you want, but standing on your feet for 10 hours is exhausting, considering that includes hauling new products, gallons of milk, cleaning up spills, toting massive trash bags, leading coffee seminars, etc. Doing physical labor left me feeling like I’d actually accomplished something for the day. Listening to a lecture rarely did.

2. People want to be led…not “told” what to do.

I was a manager, and quickly learned this truth. It’s astonishing how many people like to micromanage…but how few people enjoy being micromanaged. Leading my coworkers to understand the “why” before the “what” propelled me relationally further than demanding obedience ever did. I started out demanding obedience, because those types of expectations were placed on me. When I translated those to other team members, I realized that demanding and micromanaging weren’t a viable long-term solution.

3. People want to feel like they’re on a team.

Whether that’s through inside jokes, shared experiences, or similar goals…nobody wants to be alone. Nobody. The quicker I incorporated “team members,” and not just followers, the quicker my leadership “worked.” The same is true whether you’re serving lattes or leading people into a growing relationship with Jesus.

4. People and textbooks are not the same thing.

Textbooks make sweeping black-and-white statements that translate well in the classroom. Working in a coffee shop, though, I realized that regurgitating those slickly-worded, catchy phrases did very little to build relationships. And without relationships, truth matters very little.

5. Consistency matters.

I learned that giving people a consistently high-quality product was of high concern, building trust across a brand. Consistently producing a high-quality product builds relational capital as well. People want to know what they’re about to step in to. Offering consistency sets clear expectations up front.

6. Customer service matters

It doesn’t matter how slick your Sunday morning worship services are. Nor does it matter how well-worded your mission and vision statements are crafted. If you neglect customer service, making people feel warm, welcomed, and invited…then you’ll forever have a wide-open back door. The moment you neglect “customer service” is the moment you realize that those you long to hear the Truth are the ones least likely to hear, or receive, it.

7. Everyone wants to feel like an insider

Whether it’s through new information, key relationships, or strategically partnering with others, make sure to keep people in the loop. Let them know what’s coming, that they can pitch ideas, that their voice matters, and that you care to keep them informed. If you want to recruit and maintain leaders on your team, you’ve got to do this.

8. Even the best ideas have a shelf life.

Don’t think that the way you’ve always done something is the way it should be done now. A good idea 50 years ago is likely not still a good idea. Be willing to reinvent, change directions, and kill programs for the sake of reaching more and more people.

 

 

 
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