peak generation fallacy – the unnamed perspective keeping us apart

| Kimberly Smith

George Orwell is quoted as saying, “Each generation imagines itself more intelligent than the one that went before it and wiser than the one coming after.”

That checks out, right? Every generation reading this is probably thinking, “well, at least it’s true of MY generation!”

This is known as peak generation fallacy. The notion that we can all unthinkingly fall to the belief that somehow the particular generation we are part of is the one that has cracked the code! We’re the ones that have solved the problems generations before didn’t seem able to and accumulated wisdom well beyond that which our succeeding generations might ever attain.

As with most default positions or theses, it is founded in elements of truth. Every generation adds knowledge, adds technological advancements, adds research and understandings that mean we become (or have the potential to become) exponentially smarter. A simple proof of this is the recognition that right now on our hand held devices we have access to more information than our predecessors had in their entire lifetime.

Likewise, there’s definitely potential for the older generations to be wiser than the emerging generations. It is based on the assumption that the longer we live, the wiser we become, which must be tempered by the truism that living longer doesn’t necessarily make you wiser. Having more life experience and experiences doesn’t automatically make one wiser. It’s our capacity for reflection and analysis that grows us in wisdom.

Anyway you look at it, to whatever degree it may be actual, peak generation fallacy can be a default posture. And, as with any behavioural pattern or tendency, it will only be as effective as it is challenged and interrogated to be sure that it is true and serving us.

While we are believing ourselves to be more intelligent than our elders, we may create a gap of empathy, partnership or consideration between us and them and deprive ourselves of the unique knowledge and perspective they do possess. And while we believe ourselves to be more wise than emerging generations, we may be inclined to write them off, disregard their perspectives, and distance ourselves from them and they from our ability to mentor and encourage them.

Alternatively, if we embrace the idea that each new generation may be more intelligent than the one that went before, then that should inform how more established generations engage with emerging ones. We would be well served to consider the knowledge, information, skills, and perspectives younger generations have acquired. We might in fact, find satisfaction in seeing them go further to greater discoveries and efficiencies, launched and resourced by the learning and equipping of we who’ve gone before. What might it look like for us to perceive emerging generations differently? Through the lens of expectation that, fuelled by awareness of broader fields of study and research, access to larger pools of data and analysis of experimentation, they may indeed be able to teach us new things. What abiding knowledge might we offer to synergize with their new learning? How might our businesses our ministries, our families, our groups and teams be enhanced by intentionally seeking the learning of the emerging generation?

Likewise, if we are to truly consider that established generations are potentially wiser than those that are emerging, what is our own posture to the generations who have gone ahead of us? How do we seek to harvest, retain and leverage the wisdom of older generations? What intention would help to keep us from defaulting to our own wisdom and disregarding the well-won wisdom of our elders? How do we ensure that useful insight, thoughtfulness, discernment, and reflection aren’t lost to us – causing us to busy ourselves with reinventing wheels? How do we help our established generations continue in meaningful contribution despite the changing landscape and their changed life stage?

It’s called a fallacy for a reason – it’s incorrect to assume ourselves wiser or more intelligent based purely on our generational position. But while this tendency is unidentified or unnamed it can remain unaddressed even though it can be creating unnecessary and unhelpful generational divide.

What’s your take away? Where do you see this playing out in your work place, your church or organization; your family? What biases do you need to address in yourself? How might you challenge the drift to this thinking in order to champion healthy intergenerational engagement and valuing?

curiosity breeds connection – the power of empathy

| Kimberly Smith

When I was a young girl, I wrote poetry. Instead of journaling, I recorded all of my teenage angst and emotions in prose – book after book, page after page, pouring out my heart. I reflected on relationships and events, narrating life as I observed it. I’ve kept some of those books, although I’m not entirely sure why, since (for the most part) I have no intention of ever releasing them for anyone to read.

One particular entry, written by 15 year old Kimmy, was a bumbling attempt to process my emotions after experiencing a broken heart. I can remember very clearly the boy, the relationship, the experience. I had fallen hard, and we were as deeply invested as teenagers can be – but the relationship had come to an end.

The final line of the poem says: “People tell me to get on with my life, but he was my life.”

Could it get any more dramatic? Kimmy was clearly feeling the full depths of love lost and trying to navigate the emotional minefield and social implications of breaking up. He was my life! I have no doubt that in that moment, it felt like a true statement.

However, on the next page – dated the very next day – there was a new poem, written about a different boy! It opened with the line: “He smiled at me today.” It would appear the broken heart had recovered – and if not completely mended, had at least been distracted enough for the attention of another boy to become poem-worthy. It’s a mildly embarrassing snapshot and memory, but very real in the moment. And I dare say, a realistic capture of me in my teenage years.

That moment was decades ago now, in a very different time. If 15 year old Kimmy were navigating life today, experiencing those same emotions, the same devastation, the same yo-yoing of feelings and the same immaturity – but in an era of internet, devices and social media – I am completely certain that it all would have been plastered across my various accounts and apps.

I would have been sharing without caution or consideration of the implications – using social media as a place to vent and process my feelings. In a culture of sharing, high visibility and low filters, I doubt my level of emotional intelligence would have risen above that of any other teenager. The whole story would have been public for everyone to see. Opening myself up to the scrutiny and commentary of peers whose prefrontal cortexes were no more developed than my own.

I’m sure many would have expressed sympathy – maybe even a few sad face emojis – but then, when I shared my miraculous recovery and redirection of affection the next day, those same peers would have judged and commented again. I would have opened myself up to all kinds of criticism, and to the stories others might tell about me – about my choices, my character, my responses. All of it public. Exposed. Vulnerable.

I am eternally grateful that the era I was raised in means I just have a single copy of my handwritten words, sealed in a diary, in a box, hidden in my garage – rather than a digital footprint with a public audience and content no longer in my control.

That small vignette – this snapshot of my teenage years – compared to what life might be like if I were a teenager today, moves me to the deepest empathy for what young people face now. That one story alone makes me ache for the challenges and complexities teenagers must navigate in our current culture.

I am 100% convinced that 15 year old Kimmy would not have handled social media well. That she wouldn’t have had the maturity to make good choices about what to share or with whom. She would have been highly susceptible to the comments, likes and views of others – an my teenage years were hard enough without that!

When you think about your teenage self, what do you imagine you would have been like if social media existed back then? Not how you’d use it today – but how the teenage you would have used it.

That’s the point of empathy. That’s how we are able to empathetically engage with what young people are facing today.

Emerging generations need our empathy. They need our empathetic responses.

Emerging generations need our empathy.

Empathy is the posture of seeking first to understand – desiring to fully know the experience of another in order to appreciate their perspective and support, encourage, and connect with them. Empathy moves us to question and inquire. It calls us to find a place of commonality in our shared human experience, even if that life is lived differently – in another environment, culture, era, or set of social norms.

The opposite of empathy is judgement.

Judgement comes more effortlessly. It’s easy to criticize what we don’t understand – to observe behaviour, response, decisions, and actions, and to draw conclusions rather than be drawn to curiosity.

The opposite of empathy is judgement.

Any time we find ourselves saying things like “those young people” or “they always” or, the classic “in my day…”, we’re perpetuating a generational gap that will ultimately cause us to lose our voice and influence.

A desire to understand will lead to far more fruitful engagement with young people. When we give them space to share their perspectives, priorities, and worldview, we nurture the kind of connection that opens doors. Allowing us to be trusted advisors and helpers.

Empathy is a muscle that must be exercised.

It’s a discipline we must choose, again and again, if we’re to stay within hearing distance of others. A posture of empathy means that moments of misunderstanding, confusion, or even exasperation become doorways – opportunities for greater connection – if we engage curiosity instead of criticism.

Empathy is a muscle that must be exercised.

“I just don’t understand young people” becomes “Help me understand.”

Tell me more!
What do I need to know about how the world feels for you?
What would help you feel that I understand enough to be trusted – to be helpful – to be a voice of wisdom gained from my lived experience?
How might you come to believe that I am coming from a place of care and understanding? That my desire is for you to flourish and live the best version of life possible.

The challenge is clear for all of us. The next time we hear ourselves or others making sweeping statements or generalisations about young people, might we pause – suspend judgement – and seek first to understand.

I remember enough about being 15 to recall how certain I was that adults didn’t understand me or the age I was living in. I rejected advice, dismissed opinions, and scoffed at how out of touch old people were with life as I knew it. Young people today are no different. They are no more mature, no more cognitively or emotionally developed. The teenage brain is not just a smaller version of an adult one. Its chemistry and biology are entirely different.

Perhaps it starts with replacing statements with questions. I’m sure it starts with suspending judgement and conclusions. And we will most likely face resistance and hesitation. But each attempt – each expression of curiosity and a desire to understand – builds relational trust and maintains proximity. That proximity allows us to be of greatest value to young people: in life, in faith, in decision-making, in protecting their hearts. And ultimately, in setting them up to win.

We need a witness to our lives (& the value of the Sunday Update)

| Kimberly Smith

There’s nothing like an old RomCom to break through the decision fatigue that comes from scrolling the endless options for watching on the various streaming services. “Shall We Dance?” is a 2004 flick that is good for its genre and suitable to crochet to (if that’s anyone else’s criteria but mine).

But it was this 40 second clip (below) that arrested me and brought me to immediate and fast-flowing tears. Always, when processing feelings and responses, when seeking to understand and be understood, language is key. And these words made sense of my lived experience in a way that helped me name it for myself and explain it to others.

In response to the question of why people get married, Beverly Clark (played by Susan Sarandon) says this …

Because we need a witness to our lives. There’s a billion people on the planet, I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things. All of it. All the time. Every day. You’re saying, “Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go unwitnessed, because I will be your witness.”

It’s been a constant challenge for me in my singleness (& living alone-ness) that there are so many parts of my life that are not known to others. Or perhaps even more accurately, there is no one who knows all about my life. On the phone to my mum I might mention where I’m driving to for work. At work I might tell someone of a dinner I’m going to. In conversation with a friend I tell them of the headache I had last night. At church I share about a recent preaching trip. Another friend helps me process a decision. The neighbour over the road knows I’m away when I ask him to put out my bins. Random social media postings alert to location or activities for anyone curious enough to look. But constantly I find myself speaking to someone about the latest episode of an event or issue in progress only to realise they hadn’t known the first chapters were even happening. “I didn’t know you were unwell.” “When were you away?” “Why were you waiting for a plumber?”

The words of this dialogue resonate. We need a witness to our lives.

For those of you who are married – I imagine your spouse knows every one of those things I mentioned above (even if they may forget). Some of them without you really having to announce or go out of your way to highlight. Those living with family or in a share house would experience that to varying degrees. But it feels like something of an innate need or desire. The feeling of being tracked (in the most appropriate and non-creepy way). The wish to not be the only one who knows your story. (It’s inextricably linked to the fear I expressed in my blog post How long ‘til they realise I’m dead? )

It has been good (and hard) to name that experience. To give language and voice to the challenge of it, the way it can feed a sense of loneliness and isolation, the weariness of the intentionality required to bring people along with you on your life’s trail.

Introducing the Sunday Update

When I managed to share this concept with my girls (through the blubbering and snot that generally accompanies such conversations) along with empathy and space to feel all my feelings – a practical resolve was what has come to be called the “Sunday Update”.

Three of us are in the chat (there are always three, right?) and we each take the time to give a bit of a précis of the week ahead. Where we’ll be on each day. What projects, decisions, discussions, or concerns we’re carrying into the week. What we’re hoping to achieve or bring conclusion to. What we need to focus on, what we need to remember to do. It’s written down so then we are able to refer to it throughout the week. The good, bad, terrible, and mundane things.

Consequently the messages we exchange are more informed. “How was traffic on the way to the office today?” “What time did you get home from the show last night?” “How did that meeting go?” “How is that crocheted baby gift coming along?” “How was school drop off?” “Did the people like your baking?”

Each Sunday (or sometimes Monday 😉 … ) we give a brief review of how we felt about the week before. Summarise some highlights. Express regret over the things that didn’t quite happen as we’d hoped. And then again give the agenda for the week ahead.

We need a witness to our lives (or maybe two). For some, we have that ready made – built into the natural makeup of households and families. But for others it might need more intentionality. Not only do we need a witness – we can BE the witness.

“Your life will not go unnoticed. Because I will notice you.”

I’m in my writing era

| Kimberly Smith

Today marks the start of some Long Service Leave I’ve taken with the intention of doing some writing.

It’s been ten years since I published my book and in recent months/years my regular writing practices have been somewhat thwarted. By self-doubt, negative internalized-external voices, by life and all its things! But today is the day I’ve been mentally and emotionally preparing for, anticipating, dreading, praying and seeking counsel about, fearing, hoping, worrying, and getting excited for. It’s here!

There are new chapters to add to the original book ahead of a reprint (the print run was exhausted quite a while ago!). There are some blogs and reading plans/devotionals just waiting to be put to paper and published. And there’s another book to write … maybe more than one? As always, there is no shortage of ideas or ministry imagination and opportunity.

As anyone aspiring to the work of writing will tell you, it’s an undertaking fraught with self-doubt, discouragement, and fear. There’s something so permanent about written words – especially published ones! For someone who speaks, shares, studies, and converses for a living (& a hobby!) I can find myself alarmingly hesitant. Who wants to read this anyway? What would I know? Do people already know *this*? Who am I kidding? Who am I to think these words need capturing let alone sharing? On and on in an endless loop.

For me, writing is a stewardship. A belief that entrusted to me are perspectives, insights, wisdom, stories, and language that God would have me share for more than just me. “When God gives you a message, it’s for ministry” is something my friend Suzie said to me that pushed me over the edge to actually begin writing my first book. He doesn’t teach me just for me. He doesn’t encourage me just for me. He doesn’t gift me with the heart and capacity to discern, unpack, and articulate just for my edification.

Stewardship requires that I write. Trust makes me pick up my pen. Faith gives me expectancy for fruitfulness. History reminds me of God’s faithfulness to use my offerings for His purposes and glory.

And with that, the writing season is officially open!

“I have lost the back of my chair” – security, support, & singleness

| Kimberly Smith

There’s a people group in Northern China – the Uyghur people. When the women lose their partners, they enter a period of mourning that is quite ritualized. As part of this they have a phrase they repeat over and over that, when directly translated to English, means “I have lost the back of my chair.”

It’s a rich and relatable metaphor for all genders, ages, and stages. I have lost the back of my chair.

Go on, do it now. Lean forward from wherever you’re sitting and imagine the chair back (or bedhead, or wall) was no longer there. What would you have lost?

Rest. Support. Comfort. Security.

This is a great physical representation of what it can often feel like for Singles – particularly those who are single-again through divorce or death. I have lost the back of my chair, I’ve lost my security, my rest, my support, my comfort. Without that behind me I am unprotected, I am potentially destabilised, and I am more easily fatigued.

Writer Anabelle Crabb talks about the concept of learned helplessness in marriage. The reality that in a marriage roles are delegated to each partner that make the household functional. They’re assigned by skills or expertise, or interest and passion; or more pragmatically due to other circumstances (who is working in or out of the home, schedules, life stages etc). Over time, as you continue doing these tasks you get better at them. One of you is the master of the roast, one of you does all the tech programming, one of you keeps track of finances; one of you is the grocery shopper. But as you get better at it, the other partner who no longer does it at all unlearns it. Not only are they not perfecting or improving, they’re atrophying in capacity as it gets longer and longer since they last had to do or remember it. And so, when a person finds themselves Single-again they need to relearn a whole lot of things and compensate for the loss of the skills and responsibilities of the other. The same might be true for people living away from family and friends. New to an area or establishing themselves independently. Experiencing changed circumstances.

That’s where community can step in. Here’s how church family gets to be family to those without family. Here’s where the village can embrace and support. We say ‘don’t worry, we’ve got you, we’ll be the back of your chair. You can rest into us. You
can rely on us. You can depend on us to be your support and your strength.’ For those who’ve lost the back of their chair – or those who through various circumstances find themselves without one.

But, to keep the chair analogy going just a little longer, what would happen if the back of your chair was there sometimes but not others? If every time you leant forward you weren’t sure if it would be there when you sat back again? Sure, any offering of help is great and any relief offered ought to be welcomed. But for the benefit to be sure enough for a person to feel truly unburdened consistency is an important factor.

That’s where the security comes in. We need to be reliable means of support to others. Not just to offer once to mow the lawns but to commit to doing that regularly. Not just to program your TV or network your printer – but to be willing to come back when it stops working or needs upgrading.

It’s true for all of us. Whatever our living situation and personal circumstances. We need each other and life is made more manageable and enjoyable when we don’t need to sit forward as it were. Where we can truly recline with confidence that we are held and supported.

I held my breath through October (reflecting on trauma, grief & living)

| Kimberly Smith

October last year was rough.

It was the month the foster care placement was completely imploding as she looked for anyway she could find to break it down. There were lots of nights spent wondering where she was. There were aggressive messages, slammed doors, defiance and rejection when she was home and fear and worry when she wasn’t. There were multiple calls to caseworkers, carers, teachers, youth leaders, after-hours support and even police. My nerves were shot, my heart broken as I watched her work to tear down what we had spent three years building.

It was a scary and lonely time. There wasn’t a blueprint for how these things play out – I guess others didn’t know what to do either. So, I cried alone – a lot. I didn’t sleep enough. I muddled my way through decisions and the necessities of life and work but it all felt very tenuous. I was constantly waiting for the next thing – the next message, the next report, the next demand, the next sighting. Plans were tentative; hope was suspended. And ultimately the outcome was not what it could’ve been or anything like what we’d been working towards.

So, this October I held my breath.

I held my breath and braced myself for the memories and reminders to come. The anniversaries of milestones missed and events disrupted. The triggers of moments and places where decisions were made and more distance was created. The reminders of opportunities missed to recover or redirect. The school holiday dates highlighted in my calendar in hopes that those things would still matter to my household. The advancing of plans and decisions that have been recalibrated in light of her leaving. The waves and waves of grief and guilt, and concern for her. My shoulders were tensed, my eyes were stinging, my reflexes were on alert.

In the physical, holding your breath makes you very self-focussed. When you’re holding your breath you don’t think about much else except for the sensations that develop in your body. (Are you trying it now? Go on!) Your chest gets tight. Your face can pucker. Your lips get taut and your mouth gets dry. Pressure builds in your ears. Your eyes squint. Your stomach contracts. Every activity in your body feels magnified and whatever else you might be trying to do at the time gets harder or even impossible.

In the emotional realm, holding your breath has a similar effect. In the space of self-awareness, one’s sensitivity to other feelings is heightened. For me, so many other sadnesses crept in. I became more aware of the pain points in my life – the disappointments, the rejections, the longings, the things I was missing or missing out on. Everything felt just that little bit harder – decision making, life admin, personal disciplines, relationships, physical tasks. As the days of holding my breath accumulated fatigue set in and things just got harder still.

It took a while to diagnose. As social isolation increased and functioning decreased it became a new normal of sorts. Things shifted incrementally and almost undetected. Until, in a moment of desperation-fueled clarity, I raised a flag with my best-friends. “I’m really not doing too well. I need your help.”

The door opened then to start to give voice and light to what I was experiencing. To name the unfamiliar anxiety, overthinking and second-guessing. To acknowledge the fears, and the dysregulation. To articulate the social apprehension and fretfulness that led to withdrawing in ways that did not support the well-being of this extroverted, external processing, people-needing soul. To describe the physical manifestations and observe how the body has its own way of holding and responding to trauma. To apologise for my absences, unresponsiveness and self-protection.

I breathed out.

Trauma and grief are unpredictable and uncontrollable. They’ll pop up when they want to, whether it’s convenient or not. They’ll grip your heart and distort your thinking if you pay them mind, or you don’t. But breathing out is the only way you’re able to breathe in again. Breathing out is necessary to make room for the intake of the sweet fresh air of the care of friends. For the voices of reason and compassion and kindness and grace to get a seat at the table. There is beauty and healing in tears cried in safe company. A mercy in being pointed to Jesus and reminded of God’s presence and power. There is release in shining light on the hurts and heartaches that spiral in on themselves in the dark.

I held my breath through October. It turned me in on myself and took me to places I’d rather not go again. It’s a recalibration, almost a retraining, but I’m paying attention to my inhaling AND my exhaling and … breathing.

finding affirmation in the call

| Kimberly Smith

Prior to a conversation with my Senior Pastor in 2003, I had never even considered paid vocational ministry. He asked for a meeting and let me know that his sense of God’s plans for the healing, growth and future health of the church included an emphasis on Generational ministry and he thought there was a role for me to play. Despite growing up in church, serving in ministry since I was old enough to be trusted to look after babies and toddlers in the creche (which I think was aged 8!), directing and leading on holiday youth camps, regularly leading kids’ talks and worship in church, and rarely missing a Sunday service; until that moment, it had never even crossed my mind to consider doing any of that as a job!

Perhaps it was because I’d never known a female pastor before. Maybe it was influenced by the fact that most of my church contexts had not always had a paid Senior pastor let alone any other staff. In light of where my life path has taken me since, it seems almost comical to reflect on now, but it just had never been on my radar.

And so, in the office of my Senior Pastor I responded with surprise and nervous laughter at the suggestion. Not long after this moment, I was reading the story of Moses as recorded in Exodus 3 and found a completely relatable narrative.

God speaks to Moses through a burning bush (that bit is less relatable – but bear with me). He has heard the cry of the Israelites, sees their suffering and misery under slavery in Egypt, and He has a plan to rescue them that appears to be largely centred on Moses. It seems Moses responded with surprise and nervous laughter also! He is immediately gripped with self-doubt and fear. “Who am I that I should go?” “…what will I say to them?” “What if they don’t believe me or listen to me…?”

I didn’t mean to be quoting directly from scripture in that meeting in my Senior Pastor’s office but it turns out I was doing a terrific Moses impersonation! Who me? But what do I know? What if I can’t? He also suggested that I would be preaching and at that point I actually laughed out loud.

Here’s the thing, though. I’ve read further in the story and I know that Moses took his questioning and hesitance just a little bit too far. In fact, he said “Please pick someone else!” and the Bible says the Lord’s anger burned against Moses and well, there were consequences. It’s a life motto of mine to always make new mistakes (rather than repeat one that’s already been done) so I decided to arrest my fear-inspired protestations and just say yes!

Initially, that was just a yes to further conversations. It was yes to being open to what God might be saying and to trusting the process of discernment with church leadership, trusted friends and in my own heart. There were some other affirming experiences and words along that journey including the prophetic application of this scripture – Isaiah 54 – The Tent. There was initially resistance from some in the congregation and there were a few spicy conversations had both with me and about me (She’s divorced! She’s a she! etc) but a few months later the church affirmed my appointment to staff as the part time Children’s & Youth Coordinator.

Over 14.5 years of being on staff there I would go on to add theological study to my education qualifications, increase my hours to eventually be full time, lead and develop teams in a fast growing church and expanding ministries, and explore gifting, skills and calling in an environment of great opportunity and support. When I finished my time there I was an Associate Pastor and subsequently moved into a denominational state role.

Ministry life is a wild ride. Like any job there are days that feel more like work than others. As we say in the business, there’s a lot that’s not included on the brochure when it comes to pastoral ministry. There’s a lot that they don’t even include in the fine print because you might not sign on if you knew (assuming we’d read the fine print anyway, who does that? 😉 ). But my anchor through all the challenging times and just as significantly in the fruitful and elating times, has been my sense of call.

I am here at God’s invitation and wholly reliant on Him to do in, for and through me whatever best advances His Kingdom and brings Him glory. It’s my privilege to partner with Him in this way.

The first time I preached a sermon to our morning congregation, a family stood up in protest (of a woman preaching) and made an aggressive exit from the room (and subsequently the church). In that moment, shaken and distracted, it was my confidence in God’s call that recalibrated me. In the conversations that followed (and on numerous occasions across my ministry life subsequently), under the weight of accusation of rebellion and sinfulness, in being challenged as to my knowledge of or obedience to scripture, in the confrontation of others’ deeply held convictions and in the wrestle of my own understanding and the reality of a future reckoning; it was the call that was my true north. Not a call to that specific church or role, but to a broader understanding of how He had equipped me and what He had deposited in my heart to burn as conviction and passion for my part in His mission.

In times of deep personal disappointment (there is nothing quite like ministry and its intense ‘peopleness’ to reveal some of the less than desirable aspects of ones character), loss, failure, falling short of my own and others’ expectations, or when feeling the profound overwhelm of the never-ending task of pastoral ministry and mission – it’s the belief that God has led me here, will use me here, will empower me here, and will comfort me here that sustains me. There is no other place to look that has any security or holds any more clear truth.

When someone makes a step toward Jesus, when a person preaches their first sermon or serves in kids ministry for the first time, when God reveals wisdom for untangling complex issues in a pastoral meeting, when someone says “I think that sermon was just for me”, when you’re present for breakthrough in prayer, when (in my case) I’m facilitating a workshop or mentoring a leader or calling out gifting, when you’re front row for the activity of God – these are the moments the call is clarified and affirmed. These moments call for my favourite hashtags – #dowhatyoulovelovewhatyoudo #canyoubelievewegettodothis You know it if you’ve felt it. The profound sense of being exactly where you should be, doing and being those things you were called to do and be.

There have been many moments in the past 20 years were I’ve begun to reprise my role as Moses. When new frontiers brought new fears. When open doors led to places seemingly beyond my capacity. When situations arose that were outside of my experience and expertise. When hurts were suffered. What will I say? What if they don’t believe me? What if I fail? What if I’m rejected? What if it’s too hard? God answers, “I will be with you!” “It is I who sent you!” “I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.”

That’s when I set down my Moses script and remember my yes. There is confidence in the call.

if you don’t like meetings you’re doing them wrong! (especially if it’s your meeting!)

| Kimberly Smith

“Death by meeting!” “Grrrr, I have to go to another meeting!” “Back to back meetings today, the worst!” Been there, felt that? Or at least heard it from others. Meetings can feel like the worst part of a job or a day. It can seem like they’re stopping you from getting stuff done. They can feel pointless or fruitless.

If that’s the case, you’re doing them wrong!

If you lead any people (or any thing), meetings can be the most powerful and effective tool in your leadership toolkit. In fact, organisational health specialist Patrick Lencioni says meetings are to a leader as surgery is to a surgeon. They are the place where all the skills, knowledge and expertise of a leader (or a surgeon) are demonstrated by doing what those skills, knowledge and expertise are designed to do.

The bad press meetings get is often less about the mechanism of a meeting itself and more about the mistakes we make or the lack of intentionality we apply when executing them.

Meetings bring your people together and so THEY should focus on doing what can only be done in person

Relationship and trust are the core, foundational characteristics of a healthy and productive team. As such, meetings should be leveraged for the ways they can contribute to a team’s relational culture. Building connection and trust is best done in person and so every meeting is an opportunity to strengthen relationships amongst your team (subsequently improving productivity, results and the felt experience of team members).

Sharing food, taking time to catch up on one another’s personal lives, learning more about each other, discovering differences and strengths, and deepening understanding of personal history and context are most successfully achieved in an in-person (or online as second best option) environment. Research also tells us that when people laugh together they will feel more relaxed and comfortable, they’ll have warm associations and memories of the team and gathering, and will trust one another more.

An intentional portion of a meeting and/or cultural expectation of meetings should be focussed on building relationship. For those who will struggle to find this “productive”, make it an agenda item that can be checked off! This will also lower participants’ fear that time is being wasted if it is an intentional and planned for element of your agenda and also part of what you are measuring in your meeting.

If it’s your meeting – ACTIVELY lead it!

Think back to some of the more frustrating meetings you’ve been in and they’ll no doubt include experiences like wandering off course, not following the agenda, unclear outcomes, mishandled conflict, one or two people dominating the conversation, unrelated content being tabled and given air time, presenters being unprepared or participants not equipped with necessary data or information or … I could go on but have probably already triggered some of you! But in your meeting, guess who is in charge of all of that. Correct, it’s you!

Participants will feel more safe and purposeful when a meeting is being well managed. Clear sign-posting language is key! “Now we move to agenda item C”, “That’s a great point but not our purview today, let’s note that for Thursday’s meeting”, “Let’s keep our answers brief in order to give everyone a chance to contribute”, and “So, this is what we’ve decided as our action step.”

DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT check out of your own meeting! If you feel it’s got boring, irrelevant or uncomfortable in some way, imagine how those without leadership authority for the meeting might be feeling! Stay in the director’s chair and keep things moving. It will probably change your experience of the meeting as well as improving the experience for those attending.

Don’t do in the meeting what can be done by other means

In order to, as mentioned in point one, leave space for what can only be done when people are together, you’ll need to cull those things which can be done via other platforms.

Shared calendars or documents, email threads, and digital engagement platforms (Slack, Viva Engage, Whatsapp etc) are able to handle the transmission of facts, dates and data.

If (for example) an events calendar is available for all team members to access, sharing it in a meeting should be to add context or update changes, not just to read it out loud. Meetings are a good time to consolidate vision and mission and to check everyone is on the same page. Explanations or opportunities for clarifying questions are good. Reading large chunks of text or going too deep into the minutiae is a waste of the precious commodity that is your together time.

The planning portion of a meeting should be kept to a minimum. If a large event or project requires more team involvement it should have it’s own “planning meeting” or the time allocation should be well factored into the structure and communication of the meeting. (“This week we will be allocating time to plan for our upcoming super exciting event!”)

NOTE – Making this possible may necessitate an increased requirement of pre-reading, preparation or commitment to read and respond to other information as distributed. If some peopl come to a meeting unprepared, don’t punish the prepared ones by using meeting time to repeat what should already be known. Shape your culture by rewarding what you want repeated and having the “oh sorry, I didn’t read that email/article/memo” people feel the expectation to do so next time to more effectively contribute to the meeting.

Meetings can multiply impact

In a previous pastoral role I oversaw multiple ministries, programs and teams. In one instance, a regular hour long meeting with a key leader effectively “netted” me a 2 hour weekly program, significant leadership development for the members of her team and ongoing support and learning for her own development as a leader. When considered through that lens, that was potentially one of my most productive hours on my calendar!

A meeting should multiply your impact as a leader.

The investments you make in a meeting – creating healthy culture, networking team members to one another, offering learning and development opportunities, providing feedback and celebration, clarifying vision and purpose, food!!!, etc – can exponentially multiply your output beyond the chunk of time the meeting requires. As a team leader, 2 hours of effective investment in your crew will optimise the productivity of your team to achieve way more than you could possibly do in that 2 hours yourself. This is the way we must calculate the ROI of meeting time. The temptation to skip out on an hour long meeting must be hefted against the multiplication of impact lost.

Quick tips

Choose the right meeting for the specific context

A three minute standing meeting might be sufficient to keep a team moving day to day. Off site planning days have their place. Staff meeting over lunch can tick a lot of boxes at once. Varying levels of formality will be more appropriate for specific situations. Not every team, moment or decision requires a 2 hour all-in meeting. Assess the needs of the meeting and select the format that will best address them.

Don’t have people in the meeting that aren’t required

When you’re specific about what a meeting is seeking to accomplish you can be more selective in who is in attendance. Different teams and/or parts of teams will be more necessary to various stages of decision making or planning. Having the wrong people in the room could frustrate the process and frustrate them!

Prime your team members to the value of meetings

“I’m sorry to do this – a meeting is unavoidable – I know it’s annoying – I’ll try and make it as quick as possible – I’m just as irritated as you …” I already hate this meeting!! How we speak about meetings can shape the value we see in them and help orientate the expectations of our team members. “Let’s meet on this because there are important decisions to be made and you need to be part of that.” “I think if we allocate an hour to this we can identify some of the pain points and get our team back on track with this project.” “People have been working really hard on this, we need to celebrate them and help them see how their contribution is shaping our outcomes.”

Agree to rules of engagement

Value your team and their time, and build into a healthy relational culture, by having clear and implemented expectations. Speak to the behaviours and attitudes that can lead to the meetings after the meeting if they’re not addressed. The larger your team is the more articulated these expectations must be, but it is never advisable to assume everyone will contribute or behave the same way. Strong leadership is required to hold members accountable to agreed codes of conduct and to provide relational safety.

there’s no such thing as constructive criticism

| Kimberly Smith

“Can I just give you some constructive criticism?”

You’ve heard that, you’ve probably said it. But the truth is, constructive criticism doesn’t exist!

Giving hard feedback is hard. When it falls on us to be the ones to tell someone they’ve not met the mark in some way, it’s not a pleasant feeling. We anticipate the disappointment or even defensiveness of the receiver and we reach for language that in some way might soften the blow.

Constructive criticism.

These words are opposites of one another. To be constructive is to seek to build up, but criticism is the act of review for the purpose of finding fault (read : to tear down). Critique is a more neutral or positive word but it is different to criticism.

In fact, science tells us that the use of this phrase confuses the brain of the receiver. When you say “I have some constructive criticism for you”, the brain of the listener is conflicted – constructive or critical? Friend of foe? Safety or threat? So, the body’s systems elevate to process the confusion of what is happening in their brains. As you can imagine, this does not create the most receptive environment for whatever challenging conversation might follow.

Ultimately, the phrase “constructive criticism” is used to make ourselves, the giver of the feedback, feel better. Like somehow in framing our thoughts as constructive criticism we might more adequately prepare the receiver for a difficult conversation. Perhaps in that phrase is an attempt to communicate to the receiver that we are sensitive to the potential wounding or disappointment our words might carry.

It might seem semantic to make a big deal of such a nuance. But a healthy feedback culture is built on relational trust and emotional safety. For feedback to be beneficial and edifying it must happen in the best possible context – where anything that might impede the productivity of such a conversation is sought to be removed. (Don’t do it when they/you are tired or rushed. Don’t do it publicly. Don’t do it when emotions are elevated. Etc) This simple nuance of language might achieve two outcomes. Firstly, not adding psychological confusion to the other thought processes required in a feedback interaction. And secondly, forcing us as givers of feedback to be more considered in our approach, not excusing ourselves from doing the work to find better language and deliver feedback in the most helpful way.

Further reading

let me give you some feedback

how to ask for feedback 2of4

how to GIVE feedback 3of4

how to RECEIVE feedback 4of4