Here are 3 key decisions we made when starting Elevation:

1. We will be staff led.
Some people leave when they figure out they’ll never rise to a power broker position at Elevation by graduating to a deacon board.
And you want them to leave. I promise you do.

2. We will keep our focus.
We won’t try to have a ministry for every sub group that ever walks through the doors.
(ie. We don’t have a Single males between ages 27-28 who grew up Episcopalian, like archery, and have visited Canada in the last 12 months Ministry.)
This has allowed us to unite and aim all of our heavy artillery at the same target.
We have gotten so freakish about simplicity during the start of our new campus that we now proudly boast about only doing 2 things as a church:
a. Worship Experience
b. Small Groups
That’s it.
Yeah, but what about…
Nope, that’s it.
But at my old church…
We’re not your old church.
But I have a passion for…
God bless you, go do it. You don’t need our sanctioning.

3. We will be over the top.
This is the one I really can’t explain. It’s harder to quantify.
All I can tell you is that when we’re trying to make a decision about which sound system to buy, we usually get the better one.
Because our worship experience is priority, and it has to rock very hard.
When Heather or Rachel need something for the children’s ministry, they get it. Even when it’s expensive.
Every time.
Because children aren’t JV around here. They’re first round draft picks.
When we’re trying to make a decision about whether to dump either a jar or a wheelbarrow of Runts out on the stage for a sermon illustration, we go with the wheelbarrow.
(You had to be at Central campus yesterday. Very amazing. Very messy.)

These 3 key decisions have paid off handsomely for us.
I don’t know why I just used the word handsomely.
I felt it, and I just went for it.
Sorry if it made you uncomfortable. It was a little awkward for me too.

In other news:

Yesterday we had our largest non-holiday attendance yet.
And I preached a hit ‘em high hit ‘em low message about money.
It was exciting and slightly controversial. The two often go hand in hand.

Then we blessed our volunteer staff with a volunteer only Evening of Worship.
I ordained 6 of our guys and talked about what Isaiah 49:6 has meant to me lately, and what it should mean to these guys.
Leaders, you’ve got to find those outlets when you only let people in the room who you know have your back and are sold on the vision.
These gatherings are priceless, because you don’t have to qualify everything you say.
Tell them you love them, you appreciate them, and then sling some mad vision.
Let it fly.

After 3 fever pitched services at Central, a breakneck speed trip to Union for their first ever Newcomer’s Lunch, an ordination meeting and an over the top worship experience with 300 of our best and brightest peeps, John Grisham and Tylenol PM put me right to sleep.

Happy Monday loyal readers.
I’m back tomorrow with a harrowing entry entitled:
It’s your fault.
Subtitle:
Do something about it.

See you then.

For those of you who think I’m way to cynical and negative on this blog, take this:

I love being a pastor.
I can’t believe I get paid to study the Bible, seek God, and cast vision.

I love getting emails every week about someone who accepted Christ in a worship service. The most recent one was amazing:

One Elevator was at home in California this past Sunday, one day before his mother’s funeral. He was sad that he had missed Elevation that day, and so he pulled out his computer and started listening to the Easter message online.
His sister and nephew sat down on the couch and listened with him.
They prayed with me to accept Christ during the invitation.

Oh, how about this email from last week?

Our production director for our Union Campus told us that 5 of his best friends have given their lives to Christ in the last 2 weeks at Elevation. One of them was at the pre-recording of our Easter message.

I really love our staff and their families. I have their back. If you ever cause them any grief at Elevation, I’ll show you the door. I don’t care how much you tithe. We’re unified, singularly focused, and ready to beat the hell out of the devil for years to come.

I love our volunteers. People like Kelly and Kathy. They’re here at the office enough to earn a part time salary. (Don’t get any ideas ).
They’re doing stuff that no one will ever blog about. Except me. I’m blogging about them, because I love them and don’t know what this church would do without people like them.

I also love my wife and my son.
More than any of the other things I love.
They are the best part of my life, and the best part of every day for me.

Thanks for letting me randomly ooze my positive feelings today.
I’m buzzing on Monster Energy Drinks (Lo-Carb) and sentimental vibes.

Go hug a kid and plant a tree.

It seems like at least once a week either I or one of my pastor friends writes a blog entry about dealing with critics.

It usually consists of us renewing our vow to not waste time responding to haters.

And our logic goes: We’ll never be able to change their minds, so why bother?

I’m going to take the argument one step further:

Even if we could change their minds, so what?
What good would it accomplish?
What value would it add to our lives and ministries, or the Kingdom of God?

Every once in a while, someone will tell me something along these lines:
“When I first met you/heard you speak, I didn’t like you very much. But I’ve changed my mind now, I think you’re ok.”

I think that’s supposed to be a compliment.
But how am I supposed to respond to it?
Should I jump up and down to celebrate the happy reality that the jury of your opinions has convened and declared me not guilty?

I’m no more complete in Christ now that you think I’m ok than I was when you thought I was a jerk.

So this is my new reasoning behind giving 0 time, bandwidth, or response to fault-finders:

It’s not just that I doubt I could change your mind about me.
It’s just that I don’t care so much.

My identity isn’t hanging in the balance awaiting your approval or disapproval.
My identity is in Jesus.
His approval changed everything.
The approval of the critic changes nothing.

Stop reading my blog and go to this one now.

It’s a new blog for church leaders that our entire staff will contribute to.
It’s already stocked with some basic, candid, straightforward entries about our first 62 weeks as a church.

We’ll try to update it 4 times weekly.

Our staff has been given permission to tell you the embarrassing stuff we’ve done wrong, in excruciating detail, if necessary.
They also have permission to share what we’ve done right, along with just enough detail to help you rip it off and do it better.

This is phase one of a plan to share everything we’ve learned about starting a church before we forget it.

Phase 2 will include a highly selective opportunity for 6 churches (no more than 6) to join our Ground Level Network.
It will be pretty extensive, featuring full access to all of our systems and some hands on training.
Actually, the scope of what we’ll be offering through this network is huge.
Everything from bylaws to budgets… the stuff you don’t know how to figure out, but you don’t know who to ask.

Here’s the application for that.
Send it in and we’ll send you more details.
Serious inquires only, please.

I’m proud of Chunks and our staff, and their heart to let you look under our hood.
This is good Kingdom stuff…

Here’s the link again for Access: Elevation.
Check it out.
Shoot us an email and let us know how to make it better.
We’re listening.