I had this thought the other day what if someone strapped a GoPro to a pastor during a capital campaign season? I was inspired by those video where you put a camera on your outdoor pet and watch the footage to see where they’ve been. (You can watch one of these videos here, but it might make you motion sick.)
If you put one on me, you wouldn’t just see the public moments you are most used to like on Sunday morning. We’d see the meetings, the conversations, the in-between spaces and a lot of time at the computer. I’m sure it wouldn’t make for a viral video. But I do think it would tell a more honest story than most people expect.
Pastor Heather has been doing a great job connecting with the Pastors’ blog to the theology of our campaign the past few weeks, while I’ve been, rightfully, hyper-focused on writing, communicating, listening, and leading through our building project and capital campaign. That work continues, of course, and will for a while. But it hasn’t replaced the regular rhythms of pastoral life. It’s been layered on top of them. So if you had that GoPro footage rolling over the past few weeks, here’s some of what you might see.
You’d see us walking through Lent together, moving toward Holy Week. You’d see the quiet coordination, the extra conversations, the planning that helps create space for something meaningful to happen in worship. You’d see me deeply grateful for Pastor Heather, who helped make those Holy Week services so meaningful while I focused on some of the background work that doesn’t always get seen. And then you’d see Easter: full, joyful, alive! One of the best we’ve celebrated in a while.
You’d see me sitting at a desk, piecing together videos we’ve used in worship the past few weeks in the FLOW series, trying to find those moments that connect with where we are and what we need to hear. And then, not long after, you’d see me in a hospital room, or sitting with a family, or helping prepare for a memorial service—moving from celebration to grief, from planning to presence, even over the phone in an airport on my way to help a friend clean out his mother’s house after her unexpected death in February. That’s all part of the rhythm too.
You’d catch glimpses of meetings that don’t make Messenger headlines but matter deeply. Conversations with our Staff-Parish Relations Committee as we quietly begin the process of posting for a new regular organist. Time spent with staff, checking in, making sure people are supported, encouraged, and cared for. Budget conversations that require attention and honesty. The kind of steady, behind-the-scenes work that helps keep a church not just functioning, but healthy.
You’d probably also see some reading too. I’m not a voraicous reader, more of a slow practical one. I read not just sermon prep, though there’s plenty of that. But reading for Bible studies too. Our Early Bird Men’s Fellowship just started the book of Ezekiel, which if you’ve spent any time there you know is no small undertaking. It’s been challenging, a little strange at times, but also deeply engaging. The kind of study that opens up really honest conversation. Our Church Council has been reading together as well, wrestling with what it means to lead faithfully in this moment. And in the margins of all that, I’ve been working through a book on audio called Future Church. I’m about halfway through, and it’s been sitting with me in a particular way. It raises this question about how churches like ours move from being something like a “Macy’s department store” a place where you can find a little bit of everything for everyone to something more focused on forming disciples in meaningful, lasting ways.
I’ve talked about that shift before. Department stores are disappearing. And churches that have built their identity around being a one-stop shop for minsitry are finding it harder to sustain that model. What people are searching for now isn’t more options, it’s meaning, purpose, and belonging. And for 2,000 years, the church has offered exactly that. So the question isn’t whether we have something to offer. It’s how we offer it in ways that are authentic, grounded, and deeply connected to discipleship. That’s antoher reason why I’m so grateful for Pastor Heather’s ministry. We’re starting to see the fruit of that work take shape: people showing up more consistently, relationships deepening, intergenerational connections growing. There’s an energy that comes when faith is not just something we attend to, but something we live into together.
In a very different direction, I also recently finished a book called The Violent Take It by Force by Matthew Taylor. It’s a sobering read, exploring how certain forms of Christianity what he calls not just Christian nationalism, but something closer to Christian supremacy have taken root in ways that are deeply concerning, not just here but globally. It traces connections between faith and power that distort the message of Jesus into something unrecognizable something that justifies domination instead of service, exclusion instead of love. Matthew Taylor gives a great talk on his book that was recorded at Gary UMC in Wheaton last fall if you are curious. And I couldn’t help but think back to our conversations earlier this year about courage. About what it means to be faithful disciples in a time like this. Not people who seek to control or conquer, but people who follow Jesus in humility, in service, in love.
Somewhere in the middle of all of this, you’d also see me trying to be a dad as husband. We’re in that season of “lasts of the year” last games, last events, last milestones before things shift again. I haven’t made it to as many Lily’s badminton matches as I would’ve liked, but it’s been a gift to walk alongside Ella during confirmation. And I’m really looking forward to this Sunday where we celebrate Confirmation. Pastor Heather has done such a great job leading our shared confirmation with Baker Memorial and Batavia United Methodist, and I’m grateful that I get to be a little more “dad” and a little less “pastor” in that space.
You’d also see some forward-looking work. Conversations with colleagues about an upcoming sermon series for Mental Health Awareness Month, thinking carefully about how we approach that with both faithfulness and care. There’s a lot of good collaboration happening there, and I’m excited to share more about it soon.
And yes, somewhere in there, you’d see a few conversations about vacation plans, summer schedules, house projects, and the beginning of college visits. Life doesn’t pause. It just keeps unfolding alongside everything else.
If you sped all of that up into a time-lapse, I’m sure I’m forgetting half of it – like my work on the Distict and the Annual Conference and attending fundrasiers for our mission partners, and giving our well-known unhoused friend a ride somewhere. But that’s a glimpse of the footage.
And here’s the thing. Most of it wouldn’t look all that dramatic. It’s not always obvious what’s happening in the moment. But underneath it I hope you’d see something sacred is taking shape. In the conversations and netwroking. In the questions and screentime and the quiet acts of care. We’d see the various ways people keep showing up for one another. We’d witness the slow, steady work of becoming a community that reflects the love of Jesus.
That’s what I’d hope you’d see in the GoPro footage. And I’m glad to be back here on the blog putting some of it into words again.
Grace and peace,
