Living in Phoenix, we go swimming a lot. My kids were taking swimming lessons practically as soon as they could walk!
When I took them to their lessons, I could always spot the young mom who was taking her child to swim lessons for the first time. She wants her child to learn to swim, but she is clearly nervous as she hands her child to a college-age instructor, intently watches from the pool deck, and silently screams to herself, Be careful! You have no idea how valuable that person in your hands is to me.
In Phoenix I quickly learned that “going swimming” means different things to different people. After mowing the lawn in 105 degrees, I go swimming, which means diving in and floating motionless. To my mom, “going swimming” means sitting on the steps and cooling off. For my wife, “going swimming” means floating on a raft or tanning next to the pool. To my kids, “going swimming” means contests for the biggest cannonball splash, seeing who can jump through the biggest stack of inner tubes, or pushing their parents into the water when they think we’re not looking. For my friend Brad, “going swimming” means 200 laps before work.
“Going to church” is like “going swimming.” It means different things to different people.
Some wade in slowly—verrrry slowly. Some jump in without even feeling the water first. Some need formal lessons, while others have a knack for picking it up by watching others. Some people sit on the deck in street clothes, and when those in the pool say, “Come on in—the water feels great!” they just smile and say, “I’m okay. I might go swimming later.” They came to the pool on their own, yet they’re still not sure if they really want to go swimming at all. If you keep bugging them, they’ll leave without ever getting wet.
Pastoring a pool-like church makes my head swim. Motivating those standing on the side in their street clothes to get in, persuading those who are just playing around to improve their skills, and showing the advanced how to help those who want to learn—it’s the most challenging, difficult, and rewarding thing I’ve ever done. But clearly, trying to put everyone into the same swimming class wouldn’t work here.
Is it more important for everyone to swim laps before learning to make a big cannonball splash? The freestyle enthusiasts think so. Should anyone be allowed to lounge next to the pool and never actually get in the water?
Kids on the diving board cannot understand why anyone would rather lie in the sun reading and talking. “What’s the point of coming to the pool if you’re not going to swim?”
Then there’s the question of who’s able to teach someone else to swim? Only the lifeguard? Sometimes the one doing cannonballs may be better at encouraging the one who is still contemplating that first jump off the side than the “expert” who thinks everyone ought to be swimming laps like an Olympian.
When people come to our “pool,” we show them the deep end, the shallow end, the diving board, and the lanes for swimming laps. We have floaties and kick-boards for those who want them. Experienced swimmers already know what to do, so they just jump in and start swimming. Those who want instruction sign up for classes. Others learn informally by swimming with an experienced friend. And there are always some inexperienced swimmers who act as if they’re experts, but their untanned bodies and outdated swimsuits give them away.
In-depth pastoring
So where do I, the pastor, fit in at the pool? Pool manager? Lifeguard? Lifeguard trainer? Swimming instructor? Pool maintenance engineer (the “pool guy”)? In any given week, it’s all of these!
I spend a lot of time walking around the pool, giving people tips on swimming, telling them how their diving form looks, encouraging those learning something to keep at it.
Sometimes I have to blow my whistle and remind someone to slow down because it’s unsafe to run along the pool deck. Once in a while I have to referee an argument between swimmers who want the same pool toy or can’t agree on what game to play. I’m at the pool a lot, but I can’t just go swimming and not think about what everyone else is doing.
Sometimes somebody jumps in without looking and lands on someone else. I have to remind the one who was hurt that the jumper didn’t really mean to hurt them. Then I have to tell the jumper that he was being inconsiderate of the other swimmers.
Once in a while, I get in and hold nervous swimmers afloat, telling them they won’t drown when I pull my hands away. If they do start to sink, I’ll pull them back up and we’ll try it again. Sometimes I actually have to jump in and help someone drowning because they were over-confident or disregarded the pool rules.
When lots of different kinds of swimmers are all here at once, the pool doesn’t look very organized. People are doing different things at the same time. And the more people in the pool, the more potential for irritations. People don’t like being splashed in the face or bumped off their rafts. And some people actually pee in the pool. We know the kids do it, but some adults do, too, even though they vehemently deny it.
Yes, a pool (and a church) can be a pretty chaotic place. But what’s most important is that we keep inviting and welcoming people to go swimming in our pool—experienced and inexperienced alike.
And as I meet each one, I will continue to picture God bringing them to our pool and saying, “Show them how to swim, let them have fun, but be careful and watch them while they’re in your pool. You have no idea how valuable that person in your hands is to Me.”
John Covell is pastor of Echo Mountain Church in Phoenix, Arizona. www.echomtn.org
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