A few weeks ago I met with the core leaders of the campus I oversee. Something wasn't quite right. We were all working hard, grinding through our ministry obligations. But when I tried to discern the pulse of our team, it felt irregular, unsteady. So instead of our regular meeting agenda, we had just one item: listening prayer. We each went into different corners of the chapel and spent time asking: "God, what do you need to say to us as a team in this season?"
We reconvened to share what we sensed God saying. It was both sobering and uplifting. Sobering because we had to repent of failure to focus on the essentials, like prayer. Uplifting because God was drawing us into a new season of clarity and wisdom.
It brought to mind Christ's words to Martha in Luke 10:42, "You are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one." One person described when he and his wife were trying to reorganize the boxes in their basement. We all latched on to a simple call to action: "It's time to clean house."
When ministry clutter runs amok, leaders take on more responsibilities and neglect their primary calling.
Have you ever noticed how unaware you are of all your material possessions until you are required to move them? Our family relocated a little recently and we were shocked at the amount of stuff we'd accumulated. Only by going through every box, every huge Tupperware bin, and the attic garage that we had a true sense of our inventory. We became so overwhelmed we discarded all sorts of things because something had to go.
I'm convinced every church should "move" every five years or so—not physical location, but in organizational mindset—to clean house.
We're in the middle of a cleanup process at Kensington. We have a chronic habit of adding the "new" without getting rid of anything. The calendar just gets more cluttered. It's a difficult but mission-critical process to eliminate programs or projects that are no longer essential.
Which TVs to unplug?
Business writer Jim Collins, in an article "Pulling the Plug," reflected on his goal to read 100 books a year. He decided he needed to unplug his TV to eliminate the primary competition for his discretionary time. He writes:
"Peter Drucker is fond of asking, 'Which of your current businesses would you not enter if you were making a blank-page decision about it today?' Those are your TVs to unplug. You should extend Drucker's logic to every aspect of your company's activities—people, products, systems, structures, and even how you spend your time. You should create a 'stop doing' list to complement your 'to do' list. The world is full of smart executives who take decisive action. It's woefully short of wise executives who take decisive inaction."
It's fair to say most church leaders struggle to take decisive inaction. Apostolic leaders have a ferocious bias toward action. Decisive inaction feels wrong. The truth, though, is that simply attaching more action items to our ministry comes with a price.
Even Jesus said, "Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Won't you first sit down and estimate the cost … to complete it? For if you lay the foundation and are not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule you" (Luke 14:28-30).
If we're serious about "finishing," we have to count the cost of clutter. Paradoxically, while cleaning house helps in the long run, it's actually going to be harder in the short run.
Consider these five elements of house-cleaning.
Passion: What do you want?
There's an odd account in Matthew 20 of two blind men clamoring for Jesus' attention. Jesus stopped and called them. "What do you want me to do for you?" he asked. "Lord," they answered, "we want our sight." Wasn't it obvious what they wanted? But I think Jesus wanted the blind men to voice their desire. There's power in saying what we desire.
I've spent years unconsciously suppressing what I desire to see happen in the churches I lead. I've often capitulated to "what we've always done" or "what so-and-so likes." It's taken me too long to identify my personal longings and give myself permission to live them.
Mark Labberton writes: "The fire meant to enliven and empower our lives is our desire for God who desires us. As we mature in our faith and deepen in our desire for God, God's passions freely become our own. As we live into this primary passion, the rest of our desires assume a different place in our lives."
If our first desire is for God, then our other desires tend to fall into alignment with Christ's. It's entirely appropriate then, to ask: "What do I want God to do for us this year? What do I want to be? What kind of church do we want to become?"
One of the ways I'm trying to declutter is by asking: Does this activity align with the core passions God has given me? To be sure, lots of activities don't always fit this grid but still come with being a pastor. That's unavoidable. But when I can choose, what do I want to choose?
Our ministry calendar often tells us what we've always done, or who we need to placate. But it isn't always telling us what God is calling us to do or who we truly desire to be.
Personnel: Is there someone to lead that?
Everything rises and falls on leadership. Often the most important question about what to stop and what to start hinges on the leaders available. We've had some excellent volunteers leave leadership positions in great programs and then struggled to replace them. Without an excellent and called point leader, some programs have disbanded. And that's okay.
Some programs have a natural life cycle of birth, growth, and eventual death. On the other hand, some work is so critical to our mission that we have to pray for the right leaders to emerge. At that point it's imperative to "Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field" (Matt. 9:38).
Other programs grow at a clip that outstrips the current team's capacity. This happened in Acts when there were more widows to feed than the culturally appropriate personnel to oversee (Acts 6:2-4). So the Twelve gathered all the disciples together and said, "It would not be right for us to neglect the ministry of the word of God in order to wait on tables. … choose seven men from among you who are known to be full of the Spirit and wisdom. We will turn this responsibility over to them and will give our attention to prayer and the ministry of the word."
This reveals clear focus on the part of the Twelve. They didn't say they weren't capable of waiting on tables, or above it; they simply said it wouldn't be right. That was ministry clutter. Their primary calling wasn't there.
Do you have programs struggling without the right leaders? Have you inadvertently taken on a responsibility that's not yours? The wise response, then, is to either pray for new leadership, to delegate the task, or to give the program in question a rest.
Pacing: What are our sustainable rhythms?
I've often mistakenly assumed that once we decide to declutter, we're done decluttering. But there are critical change dynamics to consider. I'm learning there are at least three ways to implement a ministry housecleaning.
1. The hard stop. That means we immediately shutter a ministry and reallocate the resources and personnel elsewhere. If there's deep dysfunction, this may be appropriate, but it's not recommended. Drastic change can result in organizational whiplash.
2. The gradual shift. This is change over time. It could be that a longstanding tradition or program is no longer relevant or appropriate. Then we take the time to communicate a transition, and over a specific amount of time, phase the program out in a way that respect, honors and, yes, grieves with those affected.
3. The rest stop. If we honestly don't know what to do, wisdom calls for us to enter into a discernment process. I was in Jerusalem recently and got to experience Shabbat, Israeli style. The beauty of a Sabbath in Israel is that everyone, it seems, slows down together. There's a clear understanding that the work, whatever it is, can wait for at least a day. In fact this year is a Sabbath year in Israel. Every seventh year, in accordance with the Torah, the land takes a break to recharge. Maybe there's value in seeing the congregation like dirt. Sometimes it's been overplanted, overworked, and overharvested. There's nothing wrong with the agricultural system, but the planters, the harvesters, and yes, the earth itself all need a break.
In an effort to clean house, there's value in taking pause for a season, and then coming back and asking, "Do we want to fire this back up again? Or move on to something else?"
At Kensington, to help with pacing, I've been meeting with our office administrator every Tuesday at 9:30 a.m. to look at my calendar for the upcoming week. We go through every meeting and appointment. We cancel some, clarify the purposes of others, and, when appropriate, fill openings with pressing conversations.
I've also learned our major ministry decisions should follow a seasonal rhythm. In the fall, we run hard, execute our fall ministry launches, nail down Christmas plans, and begin framing our Easter services. The winter is our time to retool existing plans and commit to our master calendar for that year. Summer is time to rest, reboot, hire new staff, and study. If we're going to launch something strong, we usually do so in September, if we're going to wind something down, it's typically done in June.
Perspective: What needs a fresh look?
There are a number of ways to get fresh perspective on your situation. It may come from a new leader, a transformative experience in the existing leaders, a transition of who's in the pews, gradual demographic change in the neighborhood, or a traumatic event.
Maybe you realize an issue is important to you but to no one else. Let's be honest. Some senior leaders can impose pet projects on their teams and members through sheer force of will. But the second that leader is gone the program immediately disappears.
This doesn't mean the projects aren't worthy. It does, however, mean the leader failed to fully ingrain the heartbeat for them into the DNA of the church.
In the last church I served, I had a passion for a project in Europe and a burn for a worship service in Detroit. Both were worthy endeavors. After I left, the leaders jettisoned them both. It was the right call. There wasn't the capacity, desire, or personnel to execute them in that particular context. It was clutter. There's always value in getting a clear grasp on reality.
Peace: Do we feel peace about the change?
At times I've been part of a difficult uncluttering process, but everyone around the table was unified. That shared peace and confidence allowed us to walk with people through their loss, press into difficult conversations, and see the transition all the way through.
But I've been through other circumstances, often brought on by my own ego, where I moved forward without that peace, unity, and shared sense of mission. The fallout is hurt feelings, broken trust, and cynicism.
I've finally learned the hard way that if something isn't working, we can stop. We can wait. And we have. In the last six months, we put the brakes on a financial campaign, a scheduled short-term mission trip to a global hotspot, and certain aspects of our programing calendar.
Usually it happened because one person said "Something's not right here. Let's wait." Joe Aldrich once wrote that when God leads a group of people to a decision, he leads them to the same decision over time.
We've got a lot of work to do in our housecleaning process, these are some of the right questions to frame it moving forward. That said, it can still be difficult to know if we've made the right choices.
In those moments, we lean on this truth: "Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and he will establish your plans" (Prov. 16:3).
Steve Norman is a campus pastor at Kensington Church in Troy, Michigan.
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