Archive for the ‘Ministry Perspective’ Category

It’s a sad day when you’re more excited to see the team you hate lose rather than the team you love win.

I’ve experienced this recently. I used to simply cheer for the Clemson Tigers and against the USC Gamecocks. But I recently crossed the line and became more interested in seeing SC lose than Clemson win. Partly because Clemson had a bad season this year, but also because I’ve just grown to hate SC so much that I’d rather see them fail than see my own team succeed.

Often many churches and individuals fall in to this same mindset. They almost rejoice more when they see bad things happen to ministries they disagree with rather than for the good things God is doing in their own church.

For a sports fan, it’s sad. For the Church, it’s tragic. Anytime we get to the point where we’re rejoicing over the failures of other churches, we should weep. And then repent.

I wonder if the problem is that it’s hard for us to accept the fact that Jesus Christ loved and died for the church down the street just as much as He did our own. The church across the nation, too.

That includes the church that fell apart because their pastor had an affair.
The church whose music you abhor that’s failing.
The church that went bankrupt.
The church that tries too hard to be relevant or the church that you think caters to a traditional crowd. And neither is growing.

You may not agree with other churches, their methodology or even some of their theology. But we’re all Christ’s bride. And before He died for all of us, he prayed that all of us would be one. Not that we’d rejoice when one of us fails. Do what you will, but I’d rather not be opposed to the prayers of Jesus. He had a rather effective and powerful prayer life. I’m not going to waste any breath or energy trying to subvert it.

We have to get to the place where we see the success of the church down the street as our success. And their failure as our failure. We should pray for one to happen everywhere. And the other to happen nowhere.

When you see other churches fail, even if it’s because of their own sin or stupidity, don’t praise God for their failure. Pray to Him for their restoration and redemption.

But first, how about praising God for your own successes? Praise God for His faithfulness in your church. In your life. That’s where your most intense worship should be anyways.

This entry was originally posted December 13, 2010.

One of the greatest critiques of the American Church today is that it’s malnourished. Some would even say it’s our most pressing problem.

When most people voice this complaint, the focus is on the worship experience. From people who leave these churches, you hear, “I wasn’t getting fed.” Or, “I just want some deeper teaching.” From people outside these churches you hear, “too much milk, not enough meat.”

In some cases, I’m sure this is true. But I really don’t think that’s the real problem. Yes, American Christians are malnourished. But I don’t believe it has anything to do with milk or meat.

Most American Christians aren’t malnourished because of what they’re getting fed on Sunday. They’re malnourished because they don’t feed themselves Monday through Saturday.

So you had filet mignon on Sunday and learned about the mystical union of Christ and the church as it relates to the rapture and the design of the tabernacle in relation to Levitical dietary laws as understood by the Council of Trent. Good for you. Have fun starving yourself the rest of the week and letting your pastor read the Bible so you don’t have to.

So you had some milk on Sunday and learned 37 ways to ________. Have fun having 37 new ways to not obey God during the coming week.

The crisis facing the church today isn’t what people are getting fed on Sundays. It’s what they’re not feeding themselves the rest of the days. Who really cares whether you consume meat or milk on Sunday if it’s the only meal you have all week?

I’m not saying this to get pastors and churches off the hook. It is the shepherd’s job to feed the sheep (John 21). And feed them well based on their needs and faith development. But it’s also the sheep’s job to eat:
13Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness. 14But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil.
Hebrews 5:13-14

Here’s the point. Churches: we have a responsibility. We should serve up the Word, hot and fresh every single Sunday. As church leaders, it is our job to create and sustain processes and systems that responsibly enable people to grow in their faith after receiving Christ.

People in our churches: you also have a responsibility. If you refuse to study the Word, apply it, pray some during the week, join a small group and dig deeper with others, there’s not much we can do to help you. Your malnourishment won’t be cured by anything we give you on Sunday.

So are you an infant and need milk? Drink it for now, but the only way you’re getting more mature and will be ready for meat is by training yourself. Constantly. Do you want meat? From these verses, it seems like meat is doing the milk. On your own. Constantly.

Not getting it served to you once a week.

This entry was originally posted on June 28, 2011.

Recently Holly tried to buy laundry detergent and instead accidentally bought detergent that was meant to clean the washing machine. I didn’t even know such things existed. But they do.

Is it just me, or does that seem totally useless and silly? Isn’t the washing machine already pretty clean from washing dirty laundry?

Yet it strikes me that what would seem silly to a lot of us is all too common in the Church today. How many churches are just keeping the machine clean, but not doing any dirty laundry?

In other words, far too often churches would rather have a squeaky clean image than have to deal with the messiness of sinful people. We create graceless environments that do not eliminate sin, but instead drive people to live double lives. We’re quick to write people off the second they fail. Or we get nervous when “that” kind of person walks through our doors. All in the name of having a clean machine.

And then we act surprised when people who don’t have all their crap together leave the church. Or never come at all.

I don’t think many people really realize or want to admit how messy, slow, painful and gradual real change is. People will sometimes tell me that we have to do something about the students at Elevation. We need to deal with them. They’re coming to our church but they’re still sinning. One person actually left the church one time and said it was because there were some people in our church that were hypocrites.

That’s about as asinine as saying a doctor doesn’t need to keep treating sick people. Or people who get sick more than once.

Of course there are teenagers who are still having sex. Of course there are hypocrites. And I’m proud of it. That’s why we started Elevation. To do the dirty laundry. To see people far from God come to know Him and have their lives turned upside down. So that teenagers wouldn’t sell out to the lowest common denominator of middle and high school existence. So that hypocrites wouldn’t be hypocrites anymore.

But here’s the truth many churches don’t want to accept: it’s very messy for broken people to be healed and transformed. It takes time. Birth is messy. It isn’t pretty. And guess what? Neither is new birth. Following Jesus is messier than people make it out to be. And it’s just as messy and dirty for churches trying to empower people to do it.

Don’t get me wrong, I believe the Church is called to be holy. I believe the best thing we can do for people sometimes is call them on their crap.

But I also believe we sometimes want people to get it faster than the disciples did without showing the patience Jesus showed. I also believe that the same Jesus who calls us to be holy also said He came for those who were dirty. Not for those who were clean.

I also believe you and I were one of them:
Then I passed by and saw you kicking about in your blood, and as you lay there in your blood I said to you, “Live!” “‘I bathed you with water and washed the blood from you and put ointments on you. (Ezekiel 16:6,9)

And I also believe Jesus wants us to do the same for others. Even if it’s messy.

This entry was originally posted on May 19, 2011.

The South Carolina Gamecocks defeated the Clemson Tigers convincingly on Saturday, November 26, 2011. That makes 3 years in a row that the Tigers have fallen to the Cocks.

In the Furtick family, we pull for Clemson. My mom graduated from Clemson, so it’s all I’ve ever known. My boys did their best to cheer the Tigers to victory Saturday night. We were all pretty disappointed with the outcome.

Why am I telling you this?
For sympathy, a little bit.

But mainly to share an anecdote with you. Stay with me.

See, where I grew up, in the Lowcountry of South Carolina, there was almost nothing bigger than the Clemson/South Carolina in-state rivalry game. Not Christmas, not your kid’s graduation, not a personal appointment with Jesus for the rapture. I’m exaggerating only slightly.

And throughout my childhood, I just assumed that the football game that was the center of my universe must be the center of everyone else’s too. If I had met another little boy from China, I would have asked him whether he was a Clemson fan or a Carolina fan. Those two categories seemed as universal to me as dead or alive.

It probably wasn’t until my first year of college that I fully realized how little most of the world cared about Clemson or Carolina. Football fans in other parts of the country were consumed with their own rivalries. Worse yet, most of the world’s population didn’t care about American football at all. In fact, they didn’t even consider it real football. They reserved that name, understandably, for another sport.

It was a revelation for me:
All my life, I’ve been obsessed with something that most people couldn’t care less about.

As far as football goes, this is all pretty harmless. Team loyalties give us bragging rights, and something to talk about, at least in our own little corner of the world.

But, I think there’s a deeper analogy here about some of the dumb stuff that divides so many churches, ministries, and believers in Jesus.

I wonder how many “rivalries” we’ve set up within Christian culture that make us look completely aloof and disconnected to a watching world?

We’re busy drawing battle lines within our bubble:
“Are you Calvinist or Arminian?”
“Are you missional or attractional?”
“Are you a Cessationist or a Continuationist?”
“Are you seeker sensitive or (insert opposite of seeker sensitive)”
“Are you blah blah blah or yada yada yada?”

Meanwhile, most hurting people in the world have no idea what we’re talking about. (A lot of the time, neither do we, if you press us.)
What’s worse, they don’t care.
If the average non-Christian heard some of the debates that dominate many of our “Christian” conversations, they’d be sickly amused, completely confused, totally disgusted, or all of the above.

Bad things happen when we become obsessed with things that most people couldn’t care less about—and become distracted by passions that aren’t the highest priority in the heart of God.

We look like idiots when we launch full-scale wars over battles that Jesus didn’t die to fight. Most tragically, it keeps us from coming together, and really putting the devil on the run in our generation.

Of course, we’ve got to draw lines sometimes. Otherwise we fall off the “all paths lead to God” cliff, placing the terrorists on United Flight 175 on the same grounds of “sincerity” as Saint Peter.

And there’s certainly a place for theological distinction. For crying out loud, I’m part of a Protestant church.

But don’t you think that, too often, our in-church rivalries with other believers and ministries make us look like people with really small worlds?

God help us when we can’t respect one another’s different positions enough to realize:
Hey, we’re wearing the same jersey…

In Luke 5:1-5, the disciples had a problem.
They had been fishing all night, but their nets were empty.

In Luke 5:6-11, after they followed Jesus’ instruction to put out their nets again, the disciples faced a different problem.
Their nets were so full, they started to break.

Recently, I was facing some challenges that seemed overwhelming to me.
I found myself getting a bad attitude, feeling sorry for myself a little, and wishing I didn’t have to carry quite so much stress.

And then it was like the Lord spoke to me:
“At least your nets are full.”

That put it in perspective.

See, a lot of our problems are full net problems.
The kinds of problems that many others would love to have.
Breaking nets are the result of God’s blessings in our lives, if we choose to see it that way.

A messy house full of healthy kids.
A growing church with expansion needs.
A busy schedule because of abundant responsibilities and relationships.

Sure, it’s a strain to pull in the nets when they’re tearing apart from the heavy load.
But it beats sitting in the boat staring at nothing.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
John 1:14

I thank God for grace. And I thank Him for truth. If it weren’t for His grace, the truth would condemn me. But if it weren’t for the truth, His grace would have no power to change me.

But that’s not just true with me on a personal level. I think it should also dictate our approach to preaching and engaging people on a corporate level.

If you look at how Jesus talked and interacted with people, it’s clear that he held the two in tension. What made Jesus so special was that he didn’t minimize God’s truth. But at the same time he was a friend of sinners who maximized the opportunity for anyone to find grace.

The Church, on the other hand, often minimizes and maximizes one or the other.

Many churches only emphasize grace. They never call people on their sin. They shy away from confrontation. They don’t take stands on tough issues.

The result is that they miss the truth about grace. They forget that grace is power. It is power to save and to transform. To cover all of our sins and remove them from our lives. As I’ve said before, grace isn’t just a cheap perfume you splash on to cover the stench of your sins. It’s the power to change your life from the inside out.

Other churches only emphasize truth. They will take stands, but take them on top of people rather than on God’s word and the cross. They will teach a 37-week series on grace, but forget to give any out to the people who need it the most.

The result is that they strip grace from the truth. They forget that graceless truth might be the worst watered-down truth of all, because it has been neutered of its life-giving power. Truth isn’t meant to only be proclaimed; it’s also meant to be invited into. And that only happens when it is seasoned and saturated in grace.

I want Elevation to be a church that’s all about grace and truth. I want that for every church. Let’s commit to get all up in our people’s business with truth. But let’s also commit to do it in a way that’s full of grace.

Let’s be like Jesus.

He removed the high places, smashed the sacred stones and cut down the Asherah poles. He broke into pieces the bronze snake Moses had made, for up to that time the Israelites had been burning incense to it.
2 Kings 18:4

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

The bronze snake had at one time been an instrument of transformation. It healed people. Saved them from the consequences of their sin. But then the people turned it into an object of worship. And thereby ruined it and robbed it of its power.

This is the essence of traditionalism. It’s not simply holding onto Grandma’s preferences. It’s when we take things. Good things. Effective things. And we end up worshipping them instead of the God who used them for a season. And it can happen to anything.

Hymns. Or modern worship.
Live preaching. Or video preaching.
One campus. Or multiple campuses.
Sunday School. Or small groups.

None of these are bad things, but they’re also not the ultimate thing. And therefore we shouldn’t treat them as such. Otherwise we run a dangerous risk. The very thing that you hold up as a tool for transformation today can easily become an idol of tradition tomorrow.

And God has a way of smashing our idols. Or rendering them powerless.

Don’t get me wrong. We should never lose our appreciation or respect for the things God uses to reach people and transform their lives. But we should also never allow them to steal God’s glory by becoming a greater object of our affections than God or the new ways He wants to work among us.

God’s glory is greater than Grandma’s traditions.
And our own as well.

I get asked all the time how we do discipleship at Elevation. Related to this question, I also get asked how we follow up with new believers.

Do we relentlessly call people until they’re in a small group?
Do we offer 57 Bible studies for people to grow in their faith?
Do we provide a yearlong systematic theology course for new believers?

We do have specific and practical things that we do. But when it comes down to it, our philosophy is pretty straightforward and simple:
1) We point the way and 2) we clear the path.

1) We point the way.
Like I said yesterday, there’s ultimately nothing we can do to force people to grow in Christ. Nothing. So whether we offer a 26-option discipleship program or a 4-option one really doesn’t matter. If someone really doesn’t want to grow, they’re either going to say no 4 times or 26.

For that reason, we keep it pretty simple.
We give new believers material to help them grow in the initial stages of their faith and we call and encourage them to get plugged in. We constantly stress the importance of small groups. We faithfully proclaim the Word and encourage people to read it for themselves. In short, we point the way to what it looks like to have a relationship with Jesus for themselves.

If they decide not to walk that way, that’s their decision. And we’ve made the decision that we’re not going to chase all of them down if they don’t.

Some people might say to this: Is that what Jesus would do?

I don’t have to wrestle with that question because it’s exactly what Jesus did. Jesus didn’t hook his finger in people’s noses to make sure they were following him. When you read through the gospels, Jesus always cast His net extremely wide. Everyone was invited to follow. But He didn’t chase people down if they weren’t committed (as in the case of the rich young ruler).

The call was to follow Him. Not be dragged kicking and screaming behind Him.
All He did was point the way. To Himself.

2) We clear the path.
This is where our greatest responsibility comes into play. If we’ve pointed the way clearly and people are responding, it’s our job to make sure the path is clear for them when they decide to walk on it. There’s no room to drop the ball when it comes to people’s spiritual development. If they’re taking a step towards Christ, we’ve got to make sure that step lands unobstructed.

In other words, we’ve got to make sure our systems and processes are running at full speed. And running efficiently. If someone wants to get in a small group, we’ve got to follow up with them quickly. If someone needs counseling, we need to get them into it right away, and into the best counseling available.

Whatever approach your church uses to pull the maximum God-given potential out of people, it really doesn’t matter. Whether you take people through a five-year development plan. Or you just put them into small groups and let the growth happen more organically. Your responsibility is ultimately the same either way:

1) Point the way to Jesus clearly.
2) Clear the path to Him effectively.

Let’s commit to doing both with excellence so we can see our people become all that God has dreamed for them.

I was on a road trip about a year ago and Elijah needed to use the bathroom. There was a gas station that said “clean restrooms,” so we pulled in.

But the restrooms were filthy. Pee and trash everywhere. It was disgusting. Elijah looked at me and said,  “why does it say clean restrooms when these aren’t clean?” I said, “I guess they lied to us.”

Not too long after this, Elijah and I were in a nice hotel and we went into the restroom and it was super clean. He said to me, “Daddy, does this restroom have a sign that says it has clean restrooms?” It didn’t. Then he responded, “Why do some restrooms say they’re clean and they’re not, and then other restrooms are clean and they don’t say that they are?”

I don’t know.
And I also don’t know why this same dynamic continually plays itself out in the Church either.

The Church is fond of saying that the world offers everything but has nothing. And that’s true. But from my experience, the Church offers everything but doesn’t know how to really advertise it. Either corporately or individually.

People come into our worship experiences and hear us say Jesus is great, but then they see us celebrate Him with mediocrity.
People look at our lives and hear us say we’re Christians, but then they see very little difference in us that would compel them to want the supposed hope and joy that we have.

I’m tired of the world selling their product so well when their product can’t do anything for anybody. But I’m equally tired of the Church having something that can do everything for everybody but we make it look like it can’t do anything for anybody.

I believe the most important message in the world deserves the best presentation. That’s why I’m so adamant about the Church being known for excellence. And that’s why I’m also so adamant about people living up to their full potential in Christ. It’s not that we’re trying to impress people with how great we are. It’s that we’re trying to impress into people how great Jesus is.

Some people might respond by saying that Jesus doesn’t need us to make Him look good. In fact, by presenting the gospel with excellence, we’re taking away from it. We’re stealing glory from God. Making people love the messenger rather than the message.

They probably should have told that to Moses when he was making an ornate Tabernacle.
To Paul when he presented the gospel with skill at Athens.
And to Apollos who was a skilled orator and was used by God powerfully.

Of course Jesus doesn’t need us to make Him look good. But I also don’t think He wants us to make Him look bad either. Or neglect to reflect how great He is.

We’ve got the greatest message in the world.
Let’s not make it harder than it has to be for people to realize how great it is.

By the grace God has given me, I laid a foundation as an expert builder, and someone else is building on it. But each one should be careful how he builds. For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. If any man builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, his work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each man’s work.
1 Corinthians 3:10-13

These verses aren’t about our salvation. Or about the content of our lives.
That’s the way I’ve heard countless pastors preach them. But that’s not what they’re about.

If you read the context, they’re about our ministry.
And they should be sobering to us all.

I think the scariest prospect for any person is a wasted life. You have such a limited time on this earth, so you have to make it count. And while we usually think of wasting our lives as doing something besides what we’ve been called to or living against our purpose, there seems to be something even scarier than that. And that’s doing exactly what you have been called to do but doing it in such a way that you waste your life anyways.

According to Paul, those in ministry aren’t exempt from this possibility.
You could pastor a church for 40 years. Everyone would say you’re a paragon of faithfulness. But if you added hay for 40 years, it’s going to burn up in 40 seconds.
What a waste.

It’s not enough to simply “do ministry.” It’s not enough just to show up day after day under the guise of working for a church and hand in crap. Or do things that really don’t matter, even if you think they do because you’re getting paid to do them for God. We’ve got to make sure that what we’re adding is of the highest quality. That it’s something whose impact outlasts the present.

My goal isn’t to have the biggest bonfire in Heaven. I don’t want to spend a lifetime building something that isn’t going to last into eternity. I don’t think you do either.

So whatever you do in your church – preach, crunch numbers, assimilate, counsel, herd 8th grade boys – make sure what you’re adding is worthy of the foundation it’s being laid upon. Otherwise you’re just stacking wood to watch your life’s work eventually go up in flames.

One of the greatest things preventing many pastors and churches from reaching their optimal level of impact is their fear of controversy.

Controversy over how they approach ministry compared to other churches.
Over an unpopular stance they take.
Over their dedication to the truth.

They’re so afraid of upsetting anyone that they compromise their message and the unique calling God has placed on them. They avoid criticism, which no one likes to receive. But they forfeit something far greater:

Influence. You can’t have influence if you are not willing to be controversial.

Just ask Jesus. People in Jesus’ day sharply differed on their opinions of Him. Wherever He went, people loved Him. And loved to hate Him. They flocked to Him to hear Him preach and see Him heal. But also to argue with Him and accuse Him of being the devil.

Jesus was controversial. And for that reason, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that His message spread and made the impact it did. Nor is it a coincidence that He went to the cross. They didn’t kill Jesus because He was nice and agreeable. They killed Him because He was a threat. He was different. He challenged the accepted system. And they hated Him for it.

If Jesus’ ministry was controversial, why do we expect that ours should be any different? If people hated Jesus, what ever made us think everyone would be cheering us on?

If you want to be like Christ, expect controversy. If you’re faithful to what God has called you to do, you are going to be misunderstood. Criticized. Maybe even hated.

But don’t worry when people are criticizing you. Worry when they’re not criticizing you. Because at that point you’ve blended in too much to be worth noticing. Personally, I’d rather be misunderstood than ignored.

You’ve got to become comfortable with controversy.
Controversy is a sign of progress. Controversy is a sign of impact.

And that makes it worth some of the baggage that might come along with it.

I was at a gas station the other day and there were too many options.

Do you want a car wash?
Is this credit or debit?
Enter your zip code.
Enter your PIN.
Do you want to donate money to a charitable organization?
What kind of gas do you want?
Do you want a receipt?

I was so confused. Sure, some of it was kind of necessary. But the abundance of options obscured what I was really wanting. All of this wasn’t what I came to do. After about six or seven options, I said, “I just want gas.”

We sometimes do the same thing to people in the church.

Are you a Calvinist or an Arminian?
Baptism by immersion or sprinkling?
Have you kissed dating goodbye? Or on the mouth?
Do you believe in all the gifts of the Spirit or only 73% of them?

And then we wonder why they’re confused. It’s probably because they’re thinking, “this isn’t what I came here for. I don’t know all that. I just want Jesus.”

Right here is where we usually write them off by saying they don’t care about the Bible or theology. Possibly. But maybe they just don’t care about debating and taking stances on secondary issues at the expense of their primary desire: Jesus.

This isn’t to say that these things don’t matter or that their inherent beliefs aren’t worth considering. There’s a place for them. Behind the bold, clear proclamation of Christ.

If you’re going to err, err on the side of simply giving people Jesus.
Because that’s simply what most people want.

As long as Elevation Church exists, we will always be committed to making a positive and tangible difference in the city of Charlotte and around the world.

12% of every dollar given to Elevation automatically goes to our local and global outreach partners. This along with other initiatives has allowed us to give away over $1.2 million in 2010 and over $3.4 million since our church started five years ago.

But more than just the numbers, we also know that there are names and stories behind them. Empty stomachs that have been filled. Long dead dreams that have been reborn. Despair that has been replaced with hope.

This was never more evident than this past weekend. We did something special and brought up a few of our outreach partners onstage to honor them and show our support. Additionally, we decided to go above and beyond and bless a few individuals whose lives had been touched by the ministries we were supporting. Although every story we heard was incredible, there was one that was especially touching.

Whether you go to Elevation or you’re at a church in North Dakota, check out this video. Wherever you’re at, if you’re supporting your local church through giving, your investment is making an eternal impact.

This is why we do what we do.

Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.
Matthew 7:13-14

You’ve got to choose a worldview. Sooner or later, everyone has to choose a way they’re going to see the world.

I’ve chosen a narrow way.

We’ve got to stop thinking that Christianity can be broad and inexclusive. It’s not. Jesus said it wasn’t. And no matter how hard we try to spin or frame it, there’s no getting around it.

There are pros and cons to a narrow way to see the world.
One the one hand, you’re focused and defined. You know your message. It’s clear, distinctive, and calls people to a decision.

On the other hand, you’re limited and exclusive. There’s going to be a large constituency that will write you off before you even have a chance to tell them your message. People aren’t going to like you. They’re going to judge you for being judgmental. Exclude you for being exclusive.

There’s no way around these pros and cons. You’ve simply got to decide how you’re going to see the world, and accept the consequences.

Just make sure you see it the way Jesus does. More is at stake here than being right. Or being right and then getting people to agree with you. The two roads Jesus talks about aren’t ways to being right and being wrong. They’re roads to life and death.

Destinations every person is walking to. And destinations that every believer in Jesus is pointing and carrying people to every second of every day.

I’ve chosen a narrow way. It might be exclusive, but it’s the only way to life. And life is exclusive of death.
In that case, I’ll accept the pros and cons of Jesus’ worldview.

I recently read somewhere that when it comes to art, “the artist only has 50% of responsibility in creation.” The person who engages with the art has the other 50%.

The painter paints. The viewer views.
The author writes. The public reads.
The band plays. The people listen.

In each case, the artist is only responsible for 50% of the transaction. How the person engaging with the art responds is their decision. And it’s not something that any of us can control. Some people will respond positively. Some negatively. It’s their choice.

The same principle applies when we share the gospel. When we share our faith, we only carry 50% of the responsibility. And this applies whether we’re witnessing to one person, or preaching to crowds of thousands.

This reality should be liberating. As long as you faithfully and adequately deliver your 50%, you don’t have to feel the full weight of responsibility for the other person. I’ve met some people who carry a heavy weight of guilt because of the people in their lives who have yet to find life in Christ. They feel that it’s their fault their family or friends are going to hell.

Their problem is they have a God-complex. A compassionate one, but a God-complex nonetheless. They want to have complete control of the 100%. But the truth is we don’t. No person has complete control over how other people respond to the gospel.

It’s good to feel the weight of people’s souls. It’s motivating to your 50%. But it’s bad to carry around the weight of their will. That’s coveting their 50%. And it will load a weight of guilt upon you that you were never meant to bear. Jesus wants to bear their guilt. If they don’t believe, they will bear it. For your own sake, don’t take something that’s not yours to carry.

It can be frustrating and heartbreaking. There are going to be times when you want more for the people you’re sharing your faith with than they want for themselves. Times when you wish you could have 100% of the control.

But you don’t. You can only control what you do with your 50%.

Maybe you’ve been sharing your faith with a friend for years. But he keeps going further away.
Maybe you’ve been trying to convey the gospel with your parents. But every time they just change the subject.
Maybe you’ve been preaching your heart out, but no one seems to be responding.

Don’t give up. The next time could be the time.
Give 100% to your 50%.
Pray for them like you’ve never prayed before.
And give them room to exercise their 50%.

Halloween is just a few days away. As some of us are scurrying to stores to buy candy to pass out to kids so they can be happy, there’s another group of people making their final preparations to transform their home into a haunted house to make sure they scare them to death.

When I was growing up, some people went a little over the top with their Halloween decorations. They would be in their front yard for weeks putting every last creepy detail in place. It took them hours to get everything right. They wanted to make sure the people who came to their house had a frightening experience from beginning to end.

For these people, it wasn’t enough to have a pumpkin on their porch. They had to put it on a lit tiki torch with fake blood coming out of its ears and pumpkin guts coming out of its mouth.

Yummy.

It wasn’t enough to put a cute scarecrow in their front yard for four-year olds to see. They had to put a replica of a human being that had been impaled and had a voice box screaming out cries of agony. Sometimes it was even a human actor doing it for hours on end. Usually a family member.

I bet he enjoyed that assignment.

I know of one guy who even built a creepy two-story devil’s head that he used to cover the entire front of his house. The devil’s open mouth was the entrance to the front door.

That’s inviting.

It strikes me that people put in all that work just so that they could scare all of the neighborhood kids. Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing. I’m not making a moral statement. About Halloween or scaring neighborhood children.

What I’m actually wondering is how somebody can put that much emphasis on creating a frightening experience and churches can often put so little emphasis on creating our worship experiences? They put more effort into creating an environment that scares people away from their house than we do in creating one that welcomes people into ours. They’re trying to build a place where fear resides. But in our churches, we’re trying to build a place for God to reside and a place for people to experience His presence.

If there’s anybody that should be working for weeks to make sure every detail is right, it’s us. If there’s anybody that should be making sure that the people coming to our house have an incredible experience from beginning to end, it’s us.

I think we could learn a lot from these people. Not about building two-story devils. That would be a little out of place. But about the value of going the extra mile.

Sunday is a few days away. Some people are putting in their last few hours and days of work to make sure everything is right to scare people this weekend.

Let’s put in our last few hours and days of work to make sure everything is right to introduce people to Jesus this weekend.

One of the things that can be most paralyzing to pastors when they are preparing to preach is their awareness of their own imperfection. It can downright cripple your ability to believe that God can use you to do anything of substance in people’s lives.

But the reality is you still have a message to deliver. And it’s the most relevant and powerful message in the history of the world. People desperately need it and you can’t afford to hesitate to deliver it.

So pastors, from now on before you preach or do anything God asks you to do, pray this prayer:

“I’m not a perfect messenger, but this is a perfect message.”

Your life isn’t perfect. You have sins and struggles.
Your delivery isn’t perfect. You could always improve every aspect of it.

But your message is perfect because it’s Jesus’ message. And He is perfect. His life was perfect. His death was perfect. His resurrection was perfect. His Word is perfect. And God’s promise that His word will never return void is perfect.

You’re not perfect, but Jesus has never and will never need you to be. He already has that covered. He has called you to preach His message and it’s perfect. And that’s what ultimately matters.

Your imperfection never cripples Jesus. Don’t ever allow it to cripple you.

A common critique that I hear about “seeker sensitive” churches is that their message is too simple and accessible. The feeling stems from the fact that we tend to believe that if something has been made more plain and obvious, the message must have been compromised.

But this isn’t always the case. User-friendly doesn’t have to mean dumbed down.

In the design of technology, usually the more sophisticated the design, the simpler the interface should be for the user. The reason the iPhone and similar products are so successful is because they’re so intuitive. Likewise Google is the easiest and most powerful search engine, but their algorithm is extremely complex.

In both of these cases it’s not like the designers made it simple because it was less work. Or because they were compromising their product. In reality, it actually took more work to make something so complex so accessible and easy to use.

You know you have really mastered something that’s complicated when you are able to present it simply. And without sacrificing its essential features.

The apostles knew this. When you read through the gospel presentations of people like Peter and Paul in the book of Acts, it’s not the exact same material that you get in their letters. What made Paul the greatest evangelist in history was not the brilliance of Romans. It was the fact that he could condense the essential message of that 433-verse book into a 25-verse sermon when he was preaching in the Bible believers of his day (Acts 13). Or a 10-verse sermon with culturally relevant illustrations when he was preaching to a crowd with absolutely no knowledge of the Bible (Acts 17).

Did Paul dumb down his own message? Or was he such a master of it that he was able to make it simple and accessible?

The measure of a church’s faithfulness to the Bible is not its ability to dumbfound people with its complexity. It is its ability to faithfully communicate its essential message in a way that people can understand and embrace.

The greatest expression of the Gospel that we can have is the simplest.

I once heard somewhere that there is a greater wealth of master symphonies, brilliant novels, and revolutionary ideas in a graveyard than anywhere else in the world. In other words, there is a greater mass of ideas that never left the heads of men and women than that actually saw the light of day and had an opportunity to make an impact.

Unfortunately, pastors are sometimes the greatest contributors to this tomb of collective genius. How many illustrations have been lost that could have unlocked and explained a biblical passage for someone like never before because the pastor failed to write it down? How many leadership teachings have been lost that could have taken ministry staffs to a whole new level because the pastor didn’t take the time to catalog and deliver them?

One of the greatest responsibilities of stewardship a pastor carries is the stewardship of the mind. If you have the calling and honor of preaching the Word of God, your mind and every God-given thought and idea that comes from it are among the most valuable assets you have. They are gifts from God-and therefore you are responsible for them.

Almost every pastor would agree with this. If they have been to seminary, it has been forcibly pressed into their psyche. Yet many pastors struggle with actually exercising good, practical stewardship of the insights and inspirations that are given to them by God. I don’t think it’s because they lack the intention or desire. Many pastors think of great ideas and mean to write them down and use them, but never get around to it. They can’t remember it later. And the idea is lost.

Although no system fits every personality, I want to give pastors some practical ways to be better stewards of the gifts he has given them. Tomorrow I’m going to give you private access to my system for writing, cataloging, and implementing my ideas for every platform I communicate from. It will not be a fix all. You might only take a few aspects.

Whatever it inspires you to do, commit with me never to lose another idea. The calling and honor of preaching is too great to waste any more of God’s resources.

The other day someone brought up the name of a person who had left our church. Then they mentioned another person who left. Soon I chimed in about two or three people who had left, and before I knew it, I felt that old familiar sick to the stomach feeling-the feeling of failure.

Thousands of people have become a part of our church over the last 4 years. And, hundreds of people have left our church over the last 4 years.

But just because someone has left your life doesn’t necessarily mean you lost.

Some people leave because their life situation changed, God has work for them to do elsewhere, or their part in the story is simply over.

And even when someone leaves on more negative terms, that doesn’t mean you can’t rejoice in the part of their life that you did impact in a positive way.

I’ve had a few men who served in close proximity to me who ended up really going off the deep end spiritually. Watching the progression of how they left the church, destroyed their marriages, and seemingly gave up on God broke my heart. I did what I could to bring them back. It didn’t work. They’re gone.

I felt like I had lost. Did any of the investments I made in them matter? Was it all for nothing? Was all my preaching, teaching, and praying in vain?

I refuse to see it that way. I’ve just got to believe that God’s Word doesn’t return void, and there may come a day that all the seed I’ve sown will produce a harvest. I won’t let the devil tell me that I’m a loser or a failure because not everyone who is a part of my ministry completes their 180 degree transformation. Even Jesus didn’t have that kind of success rate.

Maybe sometimes God just allows me to help redirect someone back to Him in smaller increments-1 or 2 degrees. That counts for something too. Maybe He won’t always allow me to witness the complete success of someone I’ve invested in.

But if I’m faithful and obedient, my work in the Lord is never in vain.
It’s always a win.

The first time I made a return visit to my old elementary school I was bewildered. It was so much smaller than the way I remembered it in my mind.

I mean, everything about the place seemed so much bigger when I was in fourth grade. The playground, the cafeteria, the classrooms, the elementary school relational drama – the whole deal.

But as I towered above my old stomping grounds in my 8th grade pubescent glory, it was like I was looking at some sort of Lego Land.

Was this really the place where I tried to hold Jan Tyson’s hand for the first time, and she gracefully rejected me, and I listened to Blame it on the Rain for a week as I pondered the possibility that my romantic destiny had been shattered to pieces?

Was this really the place where Harry Walker punched me in the nose so hard that I literally saw stars and couldn’t walk straight for about 5 minutes? And I was so embarrassed I briefly considered dropping out of school?

The whole thing made me laugh out loud. It’s amazing how hindsight can put events that used to seem so dramatic in perspective.

There are probably some things that you’re going through right now that seem pretty overwhelming. Chances are you’ll look back on them a few years from now, and realize they really aren’t as big as you thought they were.

The relationship you lost that you thought you couldn’t live without won’t feel like the end of the world anymore.

The financial setback you thought you might never recover from will have passed. You’ll realize God didn’t let you go hungry – in fact, He raised your faith to new heights and took your relationship with Him to another level.

You’re going to look back and laugh.

The giants in the land of Canaan won’t be nearly as intimidating once you’ve settled into the land of God’s exceedingly good promises.

A pastor was recently explaining to me his philosophy toward planning a worship experience. One of his guiding principles bothered me a little:

“I want to eliminate anything from the service that a totally un-churched person wouldn’t completely understand. I want to design the whole deal so that they’re 100% comfortable.”

I think he was missing the point.

In 1 Corinthians 14, Paul sets the church straight about tongues, prophecy, and similar controversial issues. To do so, he frames up a hypothetical scenario in which an unbeliever shows up at church, and can’t figure out what in the world is going on because everyone is speaking in tongues. This extreme is confusing and unhelpful. Our language has to be crystal clear if it’s going to do anyone any good.

But, on the other hand, Paul suggests, if the unbeliever is confronted with the prophetic power of God in a way he can understand:
“-he will fall down and worship God, exclaiming, ‘God is really among you!’”
(1 Cor. 14:25)

That’s the point. Not that the unbeliever would be comfortable. But that the presence of God would be palpable and undeniable.

Whether they completely get it or not at first, they should sense it-
Whether they completely agree with it or not, they should be drawn to it-

I don’t think that’s going to happen if we tone it down too much. Don’t get me wrong. At Elevation, we exist so that people far from God will be filled with life in Christ. That’s the whole purpose behind everything we do-especially our worship experience.

It’s just that I believe the best way for us to connect with people far from God-and the most attractive thing we can present to them-is the amped up, full throttle, passionate presentation of the Gospel of Jesus. You know what I’m saying?

Like, when a non-football loving college freshman goes to a Clemson game for the first time, they’re sure to encounter a lot of things that they don’t really identify with yet. The passion may be a little overwhelming. The volume may be unbearably loud. The mullets and shirtless rednecks might be a tad bit off-putting.

But there’s something about the atmosphere that sucks you in. Even if you don’t know what’s going on-you can tell that this is the place to be. Before you know it, you’re screaming your voice raw right along with the hardcore fans. Hopefully, without the need for any alcoholic beverage to assist in the process.

I guess I want the experience at Elevation to be so distinctive, unique, and high energy that even though you might not get it at first, you want some of it.

And if you stick around long enough, we’ll make a fan out of you…

Sometimes when I’m trying to prepare a sermon, or I sit down to write, these terrible clouds start forming over my head.

The clouds gather in the form of a progression of thoughts.
The thoughts go like this:

“I’ve got to preach in just a few days.
And I’m completely sure I have absolutely nothing to say that anybody needs to hear.”

These thoughts have the same effect as a series of dropkicks to the chest. They totally knock the wind out of you. Even thinking about what these thoughts feel like in order to explain it to you makes me a little short of breath. If you let these thoughts play out long enough, they’ll suck you in to a pretty hopeless place. You can start to lose your mind in a hurry.

Where does this kind of despair come from? I’ve got lots of theories on that. One of the main hang-ups, at least for me personally, is this:
I am overwhelmed with the realization that everything I could possibly say has already been said before.
And what’s worse: somebody else has already said it better than me.
That’s downright debilitating.

Unless you hit back with this:
So what if it’s been said before? That’s just more proof that it’s worth saying again.

Think of it this way: technically, there are only 12 notes in the musical scale. That’s it. Every song you’ll ever hear is some combination of those 12 notes. When songwriters sit down to compose, they’re not out to create new notes.
Their goal is to put the 12 notes that have already been played millions and millions of times together in a way that will move people in a new way.

In fact, some people would even say that the best songs are the simplest ones. The ones that use the most familiar chord progressions.

So the next time you sit down to create, and you start to suffocate because you have nothing new to say, put it in perspective.

Your job is not to create new notes, or conceive of new concepts.
Just put the stuff that’s already out there together in a way that moves you.
Chances are, it’s going to move someone else, too.

One of our staff members at Elevation used to work at Chic-fil-A. He claims to know the secret about how they make the chicken taste so delicious. He shared it with me. Interesting theory. Sorry, I’m sworn to secrecy.

People have asked me quite a few times over the past 4 years something like this:
What is the secret sauce that has helped Elevation to grow rapidly and make a big impact?

Obviously, the secret sauce is Jesus.
But that’s not what they’re asking. They’re looking to learn how Jesus through the Holy Spirit is working through us in a specific, tangible way.

Additionally, it always feels funny to try to explain what you’re doing right when you know there are so many areas where you want to do so much better.

With that said, I do think there’s a secret sauce that you would discover if you spent some time behind the scenes at Elevation Church. It’s something that I’ve seen God bless over and over again- not just in our church, but in churches, businesses, and families all over the world. And it has nothing to do with my preaching or the Sunday morning worship experience.

It’s the humility of the people on our team.

By humility, I don’t mean sheepishness.
When I say I’m inspired by the humility of our team, here’s what I mean:
They submit their pride and preferences to God’s plans and purposes, and deflect the glory to Jesus.

Our creative team has had to completely scratch a finished product that took them hundreds of hours to create because it wasn’t the best thing for the worship experience.

Our ushers have had to respond with kindness to angry parents who dropped F-bombs when they were asked to leave the auditorium with a crying baby so that people could hear the Gospel undistracted.

Our worship leaders have practiced and performed many songs they didn’t personally like with a great attitude and wholehearted effort because it best supported the message.

Our volunteer leaders have accepted hard correction about the way to lead their teams, made the adjustments, and come back the next week, even though they’re not paid to.

In the administrative department- I walked through and saw 7 people in Volunteer Headquarters pounding away on keyboards, entering first time guest data just moments before I wrote this. Very few people have any clue about the hard, tedious work they do. But that’s not why they do it.

And on and on.

Elevation team- thanks for serving up the good stuff with humility every week.

You’re the secret sauce that God uses to make this thing so special.

Since I’m turning 30 years old later this week, and our church turned 4 years old this weekend, I’ve been doing a lot of reflection. I feel like God has been speaking to me on so many levels about where He’s brought me from, where He’s taking me to, and what it’s going to take to get there.

Some of the things He’s showing me are extremely encouraging. Some of the things are painfully challenging. Here’s one of the realizations I had that falls into the painfully challenging category:

I really don’t know how to grow a church.

That’s a fact.
I’m not playing humble pie here. I hate it when people try to downplay their strengths or abilities just to appear modest. So while I do acknowledge that I do have certain leadership gifts, and I understand a fair number of church growth principles, the reality is, I do not ultimately know how to grow a church.

See, this is kind of a new revelation for me. I would have always been the first to tell you that it wasn’t me that made the church grow. That’s Jesus’ job. He gets all the glory. I hope we’re all on the same page about that one.

But within that broader context, I kind of operated under certain assumptions that there were certain ways that God would use to make a church grow. And at times, I’ve started to believe I’d mastered those methods. But I’m realizing more and more: I really don’t have a clue.

Sometimes, I think a certain sermon series is going to pack the house.
And average attendance goes down.
Sometimes, I’m expecting that an initiative is going to produce major momentum.
And it kind of falls flat.

What I’m learning to do is pray a whole lot, experiment a whole lot, change a whole lot, and keep my eyes on Jesus.

And that’s about all I know.

And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.
-Acts 2:47

Pastor Steven recorded a special message to highlight Elevation Church’s response to the crisis in Haiti.

Take a minute and check out Elevation’s outreach philosophy.

[flv:http://www.stevenfurtick.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/19.flv 480 270]

If my generation isn’t careful, we may fall into a Guitar Hero mentality toward ministry:
Everybody wants to be a rock star, but no one wants to learn the chords.

It’s hard work to study God’s Word. To pray for breakthrough. To do spiritual battle on behalf of those we lead. To charge forward in faith for the cause of Christ. To run a church with the highest standard of excellence.

Aspiring ministers:
Be willing to pay the price. Or please go do something else with your life.

When people visit the doctor, they expect a direct and accurate diagnosis.
If the physician doesn’t identify the disease and recommend drastic enough measures, it’s called malpractice.

But when people come to church, and the preacher diagnoses sin, recommending the radical remedy called repentance, people are offended.
They call it intolerant, narrow-minded, and judgmental.

I don’t want to stand before God one day guilty of spiritual malpractice.
I want to diagnosis sin as sin, no matter who doesn’t want to hear it.
I must command people to repent, in the name of Jesus, for their own good, and for the glory of God.

If you’re sleeping with someone that you’re not married to, you’ve got a disease.
The only remedy is repentance. I won’t excuse you because you “really love them”. Real love does what’s right-not what feels right.

If you’re not putting God first in your finances, you’re robbing God. You need to know that. It’s like a tumor that we’ve got to remove-immediately.

If you are full of bitterness, I can’t justify and excuse your lethal heart condition by blaming it on your past. We’ve got to cut you open and operate-right away.

Otherwise, I’m no Gospel preacher.
I’m just a quack.

Sometimes when I’m trying to figure out how to brand a series, I get my audience all mixed up. I make it harder than it has to be.
I start trying to theme it in a way that would be-Fresh. Original. Cutting Edge-
To other churches.

It’s not that my motives are bad. I’m not intentionally trying to secure our place in next year’s list of Most creative/innovative/exponential/whatever churches.
I’m just such a church junkie, I subliminally assume everyone else is too.
I can rattle off what series different churches are doing/have done like most normal guys can rattle off Fantasy Football stats. It’s my obsession.

My framework is faulty. The people we’re trying to reach (people far from God) don’t think like I think.
So when we think of a series we’d like to do in a creative meeting, and toss it out because: Man, that’s been done before-
we’re kind of like a coaching staff refusing to run the ball because:
Man, running has been done to before-

Doesn’t make sense. If a series themed around purpose, for instance, is going to be most effective in reaching people far from God, we need to do it, no matter how many times it’s already been done.
We’re not trying to win an originality competition. We’re trying to impact lostness and build the Kingdom.
The guy I’m preaching to this week isn’t evaluating based on whether Ed Young did a series like this 2 years ago.
He’s evaluating based on the impact the Word of God and the presence of Christ
makes on his life.

Gotta keep the right audience in sight.
Otherwise, we’re just running a beauty pageant-the kind where the contestants judge each other.

(I read this thought on someone’s blog about a year ago, and it stuck with me. If I could remember where I read it, I’d give the brutha credit. Sorry.)

I can’t stand to do something that’s just good enough.
It torments me when I feel like I pass with a C+.

Like the other day, in a production meeting, we were looking over the coming Sunday’s service. It was a good service. Good enough. It wasn’t great, though.
And we knew it. We could have gotten by with it. But we only have 52 Sundays a year. They’re our most valuable commodity.

What did we do? We scrapped the service, our creative department huddled up, and created a new emergency service from scratch. A great service.
God greatly blessed that service, with over 400 people placing their faith in Christ.

I’ve trashed sermons before on Saturday afternoon because they were good enough, but they didn’t burn inside of me.
Jesus didn’t die so I could preach good enough sermons. I want to bring Him my best.

Reject mediocrity. Don’t hand in the rough draft.
Mediocrity never inspired anyone. And I just can’t believe it brings honor to our great God.

In the songwriting jungle, melody is king.

For a few years before I became a pastor, I messed around a bit as a songwriter. I wasn’t phenomenal at it, but I approached it-like I approach most things in life-with a lot of passion and intensity.

As I got to know different successful songwriters, one common theme emerged as the most important component of composing good music:
Having a great melody is the top priority.
It doesn’t matter how deep the lyrics are, how atmospheric the guitar textures sound, or how skillfully the track is mixed. If you don’t have a great melody, you don’t have a great song. And if you do have a great melody, even poor production and bad instrumentation can’t bury the potential.
The songs that stick around are the ones that get stuck in our heads because the melodies are catchy and singable. And usually, the simpler the melody, the better.

I’ve translated the principle of the priority of melody into my leadership style and preaching to help me focus on what’s important.
It doesn’t matter how funny my jokes are, how engaging my stories are, or how hip our sermon series are. Without a great melody-or in the case of preaching, a penetrating point of revelation and application in every sermon-my message is just noise.

In my leadership, I’m learning to let the melody take the center stage.
Keep the vision at the forefront of every decision we make. Invest the right stuff in the right leaders at the right times. Hear from God about our next steps. And maintain pure motives.

Bells, whistles, riffs and solos can certainly enhance music and ministries.
But in the end, it’s all about the melody.
Gather your leadership team together this week and define your melody.
And then make it loud enough in the mix that no one can miss it.

Here’s the best way I can describe the current evolution I’m experiencing as a preacher.

My motivation in selecting series, topics, passages, and applications seems to be morphing fundamentally. In my first 2 years as a pastor, I may have given too much weight to what I thought people needed to hear about. I was (and still am) heavily influenced by the consideration of felt needs when deciding what to preach about.
I am charged to apply the Word of God to contemporary cultural concerns in a relevant way, to discern the times, yada yada, you know the drill.

But lately, the focus of my message prep is shifting.
I’m giving more attention to what I believe God wants to say
than what I think people need to hear.

And you know what? If my primary question in preparing a message is:
What does God want to say to Elevation Church this week?
we’ll kill both birds with one stone. What God wants to say will always be exactly what people need to hear. I’ll always bat 1000!
If I approach it the other way around, it’s hit and miss. What I think people need to hear is much too subjective. What God wants to say is always on point.

This is elementary-so basic that I’m almost embarrassed to blog about it. Kind of a which came first the chicken or the egg sort of discussion.
But you’d be surprised how much this subtle shift in my approach changes the process of preparing to preach the Word of God.
Because what God wants to say is what people need to hear. Every single time.

(If you’re not this way before you preach, the following is not meant as a slam. Just a window into my way of doing things.)

They say Spurgeon was abnormally intense before he preached. Sometimes, they had to carry him out to the pulpit-the weight of the burden and the glory of God made it difficult for him to even walk. He rebuked preachers who were jolly (Spurgeon’s word) and lighthearted before ministering the Word of God. I wouldn’t take it that far, but-

I always felt guilty about not being able to shake hands and kiss babies before preaching. Until I read this. If Spurgeon was intense and anti-social before he preached, maybe it’s not such a bad thing. Besides, it might be the only thing I’ll ever be able to claim I have in common with the great man.

For what it’s worth, if you were backstage with me before a service at Elevation, you’d witness the following ritual. It might make you laugh, but it’s how I roll:

-Several volunteers prepare lots of wonderful food for me, but I’m rarely able to eat much of it, at least before the first service. My stomach hurts too bad. I’m very nervous. I feel like I might throw up. I never do, but I feel like it.

-I don’t really talk to the people around me. I’m telling you, it’s intense. They understand.

-I listen to one worship song, over and over again, in the background, and pace around the room praying-often out loud. I lift my hands some, kneel some, etc. Just trying to get in the right posture.
(Sometimes I jump around to get fired up. I bet this looks pretty funny to the people around me. So sometimes I make them jump with me. Really.)

-I anoint my head, my eyes, my ears, and my mouth with oil before all 4 services.
I think the symbolism is obvious.

I’m grateful for the people around me who accommodate and endure my intensity every Sunday morning. I just can’t imagine handling matters of eternity any other way.

The very activity that gets a leader’s blood pumping when a ministry starts can actually block the flow as the ministry grows.
By nature, leaders are addicted to activity. I’m no exception. In the early days of Elevation,
I was all up in every detail, all the time. And I loved it. The endless buzz of activity and the ability to have input in every decision stoked my entrepreneurial fire.

But as Elevation grows, my highest and best use is consistently changing.
These days, I can often add the most value by staying out of the way rather than being in the mix. It’s counterintuitive, I know. But I’ve seen so many ministries stall out because the leader couldn’t morph into what was needed next.
In a dynamic ministry (or business, or family), those of us charged with leadership should constantly evaluate our contribution.
Are we fighting today’s battles with yesterday’s weapons?
Are we committed to effectiveness or simply addicted to activity?