Must I Become a Digital Pastor? Maybe. Or Not Yet.
First, let me begin with a disclaimer: I am not technologically savvy. Yes, I am a mid-twenties millennial pastor. And yes, I am on social media. But beyond that, technology is not my gift.
I am, however, a systems thinker, gifted administrator, teacher by nature, a reasonably well-rounded young pastor, and a leader who believes in authentic care. Still, as for my technological ability? I have none.
Now let me be clear: this is not to suggest that I am anti-technology or anti-livestream. Nor am I anti-virtual church. But the “need” for us all to immediately become livestream preachers, from our homes, is a bit much. And it is certainly not because I cannot keep up with the times.
Instead, it is because the standard of our current virtual church ministries feels a bit high, borderline critical and slightly competitive. Which is especially daunting, for this small-town girl from the middle of Missouri, as we all find ourselves ‘trying’ to keep up with the Joneses (wait I mean) every other virtual church.
Yet, trust me, as a millennial pastor, I understand the benefits of technology. I understand that the church, more broadly, was behind the times and needed a reality check. I also understand that the church is beyond the physical building and that Jesus is found in the fields.
BUT as a Black millennial female pastor whose theology is oriented towards human flourishing and freedom, I cannot be all things to all people. It is not in my ethics. I just can’t.
Since no one seems to be telling me that it is okay to not be a livestream preacher at this moment, I am assuming you may not be hearing that message either. So, I am going to tell you.
It is OKAY.
In fact, it is more than okay. You are doing the best that you can and that too, is okay.
Now let us be clear. It is not okay to continue gathering in large groups for worship when we need to be separate for reasons of health. This is imperative especially because our collective survival and wholeness is on the line. (Thank you, Alice Walker.)
It is also not okay to assume we are covered by the blood of Jesus and cannot be infected by COVID-19. Not okay. I am even going to go out on a limb and say it is also not okay to assert that God is punishing all God’s people with COVID-19. Not okay.
We have a virus. It is here now, so let’s figure out how to pastor.
If we are going to be effective pastors, then we need to sustainably care for our people in this moment. Our pastoral obligation begins and ends with care so that people can flourish. This means in the realm of care; we cannot assume every pastor has access and gifts to hold immediate virtual worship.
We need to remind them, myself included, that we are not failing just because we may not be livestreaming or have high-definition capability. Not yet at least. It is too early. It is too soon. We are all only doing the best we can and there are so many ways to be the church. We cannot forget that.
Besides if technology is HARD for me I can’t even begin to imagine how the small rural churches, who cultivated my spirituality, are navigating this. These pastors are my mentors and friends, and I have a responsibility to care for them and for you, so I’m writing.
Now don’t get me wrong, I understand we all are going to have to learn a new technological language soon. Still, perhaps we could commit to accomplishing that goal with care and gentleness, not by asserting concrete assumptions about how to ‘correctly’ minister in this era.
I mean, listen — I was so disheartened by the technological learning curve that I prayed for another alternative for preaching my Sunday message. I was on the verge of a panic attack and I am 24 with an iPhone and MacBook. When I say I do not have the gift, I just don’t have it.
Now that is not to say I am unwilling to learn. Instead, it is to say that while we need to remain six feet apart, I need some digital help. Especially if I want to sustain my members and community throughout this pandemic while keeping my sanity.
Because let’s be honest, technology can drain you. It is a whole new language if you are unfamiliar with certain platforms, codes and types of visual recording. And, as with any language, it takes time to learn before we can become fluent. So, considering the emotional toil it would take to evoke a new technological language *seemingly* overnight in the midst of a pandemic, I just have not had it in me.
I have not had it in me to watch tutorial after tutorial to fumble my way through a crash course on digital media that would be more frustrating than ditching my Sunday sermon.
I did not have it in me to use another platform, start from scratch, and teach myself a new method of technological advancement from social isolation.
I did not have in it me then and I do not have it in me now.
I do not have it in me to go live from my home and pray that it works, only for the computer to keep buffering. I just do not have it in me and that is probably because I am already doing a lot of ‘trying’ and my guess is that you are too.
We are all moving in more directions than we ever expected while simultaneously picking up the pieces of our former lives to make some sort of meaning. And now, since COVID-19 has thrusted us into societal separation which feels like drastic deprivation, we have to force ourselves to try new methods of technology if we want to keep up.
But there is just so much pressure. The pressure to be a livestream pastor. The pressure to take up the largest virtual offering. The pressure to upload all your sermons to YouTube. The pressure to have the most virtual participants and graphics. The pressure to preach extemporaneously if you’re in front of a camera. And the list goes on.
And all this pressure is leading us toward a competitive way of living, i.e., who can get the most shares? How many times has your video been viewed? Are all your comments complimentary? Is a person of status watching, commenting, or sharing your virtual creation? All the things.
Pressure is leading us to competition and when our societal isolation is combined with competition, it does not lead to our survival nor our flourishing. It leads to our deficit. The art of living and the art of orienting folks towards survival does not come from competition, instead our survival comes from our authentic care.
Perhaps even at this moment, our survival can be witnessed in our ability to separate by letting go of what we think we need to follow God and care for one another, so we are free. However, right now, I am not 100% positive that our freedom is contingent upon our ability to be the next best digital pastor. Nor am I 100% convinced that our solution is for all clergy to learn how to be a livestream professional overnight. Because what I have learned to share with my clergy colleagues is that we cannot be stingy.
Now is not the time to hoard our members and prove our virtual effectiveness for the sake of optics that hold fallacies. If the art of living is rooted in our survival and authenticity, then it is imperative to be contextual for the well-being of our members, not competitive.
Human flourishing comes in the wake of our survival, therefore, our current pandemic is not a time to orient our lives towards competition. It is instead a time to orient ourselves towards living. Yet somewhere in the mix of life, our need for competition correlated winning with success. As a result, we connected success to self-worth and thus, we falsely decided winning is what makes us worthy.
I fear a spirit of competition to have the best virtual worship experience or to be the best digital pastor is doing just that. It is creating a false sense of success and self-worth when our people need to be reminded that we see them. And right now, I am taking a risk to tell you that it is more than okay to take your time to become a digital pastor…we cannot all burn out by Easter, only to possibly have to keep this up for another eighteen months.
I need to hear that. And so do you.
Now is a time to be resourceful, not competitive. We cannot be afraid to share our congregants with the ministry of someone else whose virtual ministry is more robust than our own. We are all using what we have to the best of our ability, to show care for the broken, hold the wounded, and provide healing in the form of hope for our world.
So, if you have the space to learn new technological resources, great. If you are connected to technological resources that can assist the learning curve, great. If you have the capacity and want to preach from your kitchen table on Sunday morning on Facebook, also great.
But we can also worship on a conference call. We can pick up the phone and do pastoral care on a landline.We can pastor by writing hand-written notes to our congregants.
We can affirm the virtual worship experiences of others and promote them. We can host watch parties throughout the week to share our resources. We can assemble remote check-ins, so people do not feel alone in their homes.
We can start a prayer chain that does not require a smartphone. We can email moments of gratitude and meditation for daily practice. We can coordinate grocery and prescription pick-up logistics for our vulnerable populations and seniors.
We can work in collaboration with our hospitals and open our sanctuaries for overflow. We can create virtual support groups for hospital staff and those mending our communities.
We can help our members be able to identify virtual scammers, so they do not get hacked. We can connect people to the supplies they need all across the world.
We can even sit six feet apart in our parking lots and hold prayer with a megaphone.
I can do all of these things and, at the same time, not be afraid to lose my members because someone else has a better livestream worship experience than mine. This is not a competition for me: it is a moment of holding our world in care.
So, I invite you to remember that you are doing the best you can, and that is more than okay. Because truth be told, none of us know what we are doing. We are all only doing the best we can one day at a time.
But, what we will not say is that our pastoral leadership is ineffective because we are not preaching from our homes on Facebook live come Sunday morning. That just ain’t it.
