Patrick Lencioni wrote a book called Death By Meeting. Even for those who have never read the book, the title alone resonates with anyone who has ever sat through a meeting where suicide seems an attractive option. You know the one. A group of people sit around an oversized table in a stuffy, windowless room where lots of words get exchanged and nothing gets done. If you have ever been a minister or elder in a church, you have undoubtedly been to one or two.
One of the things that attracted me to the Bering church was their answer to one of my initial questions.
"Tell me about your elder's meetings," I inquired.
"Well, we meet once a month after church to--"
"Stop," I interrupted, "You had me at 'hello.'"
I remember what elder's meetings were like when I preached in Munday, Texas surrounded by cotton fields and down-to-earth farmers and tractor mechanics. The "meetings" consisted of the five elders and me getting to church an hour early to sit in the "office" and drink coffee. That was it. In the five years I was there, not once did we ever have a formal meeting. And you know what? We got stuff done.
In the eleven years between Munday and Houston, my time in Paris and Tyler was filled with lots of meetings, many of which could have taken half the time they did. I do not want that to sound as critical as it probably does. I just do not know how else to say it. Plus, I bet some of the men and lady who shared that time would say the same thing. Part of the problem with having a big church is how difficult it is to keep it from becoming a complex organization. I am not convinced that administrivia is avoidable in a big church.
So as not to sound overly idealistic, small churches have wasteful meetings as well. I find myself in better meetings now, and for that, I am thankful. We go in, follow the agenda, and leave. It's great. Only once over the past year have I leaned over and asked the person next to me to punch me in the eye.
Why am I telling you all this? You ask a good question, O faithful bloggerland reader.
It has taken me twenty years to learn a simple ministry lesson: Jesus did not die on the cross so I could go to another meeting.
Last Sunday, our leadership team at Bering met for a couple of hours. Over the course of the meeting, I stopped the conversation to thank them for something we were talking about. It was important. It had to do with faith, not the color of the carpet.
I shared a wonderful meal this morning with a member of my church. After about an hour he asked, "When do you have to be at the office?" I told him, "There is nothing at the office more important than this conversation."
That's all I have to say about that.
