Last Monday I asked you to map your constellation on one page: colleagues, mentor, coach, soul care, counselor. I also made a promise, that this week we would take the helping relationships one at a time. Here is why that promise matters. When I talk with pastors about the constellation, almost nobody argues with the idea. The stall comes later, and it is rarely unwillingness. It is confusion. Mentor, coach, spiritual director, and counselor all blur together in our minds as variations on "someone who helps me," and when the roles are vague, none of them gets a phone call. So let me put edges on each one, and then lower the bar for finding them.

A mentor shares the road they have walked. They are further down the path you are on, and their gift to you is perspective: they have already survived what you are walking into, and they can tell you which of your current anxieties will matter in ten years and which will not. A mentoring relationship runs on stories, questions, and time together, and it works best when you drive it. Do not wait for a mentor to find you. Identify someone a season or two ahead of you whose life you respect, and make a specific, bounded ask: would you meet with me four times over the next six months? Almost no one says no to that, and if the relationship has life in it, it will keep going on its own.

A coach is different. A mentor gives you their answers; a coach helps you find yours. A good coach asks questions that surface the next step you could not see on your own, holds you accountable to the goals you set, and stays focused on movement. Coaching tends to be structured and season-specific: a defined number of conversations aimed at a defined challenge, whether that is a staffing decision, a transition, or a ministry initiative that has stalled. You do not need a coach forever. You need one when you are stuck, and most of us are stuck somewhere.

A spiritual director does something our culture barely has a category for: they listen with you for God. A director is not primarily interested in your productivity, your plans, or even your problems. They sit with you, usually monthly and always unhurried, and help you notice what God is doing in your actual life, underneath the noise of your role. Pastors need this more than most people, because we spend so many hours handling the things of God on behalf of others that we can go strangely deaf to God for ourselves. If the words spiritual direction sound foreign or overly formal, think of it this way: it is having a pastor for your own soul.

A counselor helps heal what is wounded. This is the relationship pastors delay longest, and the delay costs the most. A licensed counselor brings clinical training to grief, anxiety, depression, marriage strain, old wounds that ministry keeps reopening, and the accumulated weight of other people's crises. Seeing a counselor is not an admission that you are failing. It is the same wisdom that sends you to a doctor before the infection spreads. Some of the healthiest leaders I know built counseling into their lives before anything was on fire, and they will tell you it is a large part of why nothing is.

Scripture treats this abundance of help as wisdom, not weakness. "Where there is no guidance, a people falls, but in an abundance of counselors there is safety" (Proverbs 11:14). And it is worth watching Paul at the very end of his life. From his final imprisonment he writes to Timothy, "Do your best to come to me soon," asks him to get Mark and bring him along because "he is very useful to me for ministry," notes that "Luke alone is with me," and asks for his books and parchments (2 Timothy 4:9–13). Here is the most formidable leader of the early church, at the finish line, still gathering companions, still surrounding himself with useful colleagues, still learning. If Paul never outgrew the constellation, neither will we.

Now let me lower the bar to entry, because this is where the district can help. You do not need to know the perfect name before you start. We already have a counseling partnership in place, along with other counselors, coaches, and spiritual directors we know and recommend, and we are happy to work with you to find the right fit. That information lives in the district office, and Carla Working is your contact: email her at [email protected] and she will help you take the next step. This is not a formality; it is one of the specific things we are building under the Pastor Health impact area, because the moonshot begins with every Crossroads pastor having access to coaching, cohorts, and formation. And if the soul care column of your page is the empty one, look below at the prayer retreats we are announcing in this issue. A guided retreat with spiritual directors present is one of the gentlest on-ramps to this whole world.

​Here is the challenge for this week. Look back at the page you made last Monday and pick the one relationship you need most this year. Not all four. One. Then take the first concrete step toward it before Sunday: send the bounded ask to a potential mentor, email Carla about a coach or counselor, or put one of the retreat dates below on your calendar. The constellation is not built in a week, but every one I have ever seen started with a single uncomfortable email.

Last Monday I told you this issue would open with a number. Here it is: 4.8 out of 10.

During our listening year, we asked the ministry leaders of this district to rate their relational connection to one another. The average answer came back 4.8 out of 10. Alongside it came a second number: thirty-seven percent of our lead pastors could not name an accountability partner. And one sentence in the findings has stayed with me longer than either number: they know the DS, but they do not know each other.

I have read that sentence many times now, and it has never once felt like a compliment. It describes a district where the relational lines run to the center instead of to each other, like spokes on a wheel with no rim. A wheel built that way carries weight for a while. It does not carry it for long.

Let me be clear about what that finding means. This is not a personal failing. It is a gap in how we have been built. Nobody drifts into isolation on purpose. The schedule fills, the role separates, the drive between towns is long, and being everyone’s pastor makes it strangely hard to be anyone’s friend. Structure produced this, and structure can change it, which is why closing this gap is one of the first things our plan intends to do.

Scripture has been telling us this for a very long time. “Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!” (Ecclesiastes 4:9–10). The writer is picturing laborers and travelers on the roads of ancient Israel, but the words land on pastoral ministry with uncomfortable precision, because every pastor falls sooner or later. The question the text presses is not whether you will fall but who will be there when you do. The passage ends with the image of a threefold cord that “is not quickly broken” (Ecclesiastes 4:12). Cords do not braid themselves.

So what does the braided life look like for a pastor? I find it helps to think in terms of a constellation rather than a single star, because no one relationship can do all the work. Every pastor needs colleagues who know the weight because they carry it too. Most of us need a mentor somewhere further down the road who has already survived what we are walking into. Many seasons call for a coach, someone whose questions surface the next step we could not see on our own. Every one of us needs someone who pastors our own soul, whether that is a spiritual director or simply a pastor we trust enough to answer honestly when they ask how we are really doing. And there are seasons when the wisest and strongest thing a leader can do is sit with a counselor. Nobody needs all five every season. Everybody needs more than zero.

I am not writing this from above the problem. I keep a constellation of my own, and I have for years: a mentor who has prayed with me through every season of ministry, peers who get the unpolished version of things, and a few people with standing permission to ask me the questions I would rather not answer. Proverbs 27:17 says that “iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another,” and I can tell you from experience that the sharpening only happens on contact. Iron kept in a drawer stays dull.

Here is where the plan meets the finding. Cohorts sit at the center of our pastor health work precisely because isolation was the loudest thing we heard in the listening year. This fall we are launching new cohorts across the district, and for the first time they are open to staff pastors as well as lead pastors. Here are a few of the new cohorts that are launching in September:

• NextGen Pastors. A cohort for NextGen pastors focused on developing and empowering the next generation of leaders in our churches.
  
  
• Believing and Building for Growth. A cohort for staff pastors centered on healthy growth structure, volunteer recruitment, staff culture, and leading through change.
  
  
• Bi-Vocational Pastors (Evening). A cohort for bi-vocational pastors, gathering in the evening because so many of them hold another job during the day.
  
  
• Bi-Vocational Pastors (Saturday). A cohort for bi-vocational pastors, gathering on Saturdays because so many of them hold another job during the week.
  
  
• Discipleship, Leadership, and Spiritual Health. A cohort for pastors focused on discipleship, leadership, and spiritual health. The first study will be reading through "Resilient" by John Eldridge.
  
  

A cohort will not hand you all five relationships in the constellation, but it reliably supplies the first one, colleagues who know the weight, and in my experience it is where the mentors and the friendships tend to get found. Let us know you are interested in a cohort HERE and we will work with you to find the one that fits you best.

The practice for this week is simple. Take one page and write five headings across it: colleagues, mentor, coach, soul care, counselor. Under each heading, write the actual names, not the names you wish you could write. Where a column sits empty, you have not failed a test; you have found your growth plan for the fall. And if you want help filling a column, call the district office. That is exactly what we are here for.

Next Monday we will take the helping relationships one at a time: what a coach, a mentor, a spiritual director, and a counselor each actually do, and how a Crossroads pastor goes about finding each one.

Last Monday I asked you to name your Sabbath day for the fall and to tell your board you are keeping it. This week we go longer than a day, because a weekly Sabbath keeps a pastor steady, but it cannot do everything. Some restoration only comes through extended withdrawal, and Scripture is not shy about saying so.

Luke tucks it into one sentence that is easy to read past: “But he would withdraw to desolate places and pray” (Luke 5:16). Pay attention to the tense. Not “he withdrew once, early on.” He would withdraw. It was his habit. And Luke places that sentence exactly where we would least expect it, right after telling us the crowds were growing and more people were coming to hear him and to be healed. At the moment momentum would lead us to stay, Jesus left. If the Son of God built long withdrawals into a ministry that lasted three years, I do not know how the rest of us plan to skip them across a ministry that lasts thirty.

Elijah shows us what happens when a leader tries. First Kings 19 finds him a day’s journey into the wilderness, fresh off the greatest public victory of his life at Carmel, asking God to let him die. What God does next should shape how every pastor thinks about exhaustion. There is no rebuke. There is no leadership lesson. There is sleep, and food, and more sleep, and more food, and a word of plain mercy: “Arise and eat, for the journey is too great for you” (1 Kings 19:7). Only after the rest does the word of the Lord come at Horeb. God treated the prophet’s depletion as real, and he treated rest as the remedy.

So let me distinguish two practices that pastors routinely blur together. They do different work, and neither can substitute for the other.

A vacation is rest and delight with the people you love. Its purpose is recreation in the older sense of the word: being re-created. That means the sermon file stays closed and the inbox stays shut. A vacation that gets eaten by guilt, sermon prep, or one more funeral is not a vacation; it is work relocated to a nicer view, and you will come home from it more tired than you left. So set the rules before you go: who covers pastoral emergencies, what actually counts as one, and when the church will hear from you again. Then keep the rules you set.

A retreat is something else. A retreat is not a vacation, and it is not a conference either. It is unhurried time alone with God for the sake of hearing again. You bring less, not more: a Bible, a journal, and enough silence for the noise of ministry to settle. Nobody is fed by your retreat on the day you take it. They are fed for months afterward by a pastor who has actually heard from God rather than one who is recycling what God said years ago. And a retreat does not require money or distance. Twenty-four hours at a camp, a retreat center, or a borrowed cabin will do.

Healthy pastors plan both into the year before the year happens. I said it when this series opened: health does not come from intentions; it comes from architecture. The year will never hand you a convenient week for either of these. Fall will fill, then Advent will arrive, then the spring calendar will be set, and the withdrawal you meant to take will quietly become the withdrawal you meant to take last year. You place these weeks on the calendar first, or the calendar places something else there for you.

We are building this into district life, not just recommending it. A pastors’ prayer retreat is coming this fall. The date will be announced soon, and when it is, I am asking you to claim it. And in 2027 we will hold the first Pastor and Spouse Retreat in the history of the Crossroads District, because our listening year told us plainly that the spouses who carry this calling alongside our pastors have too often been left outside the circle of care. A planning team for that retreat is forming now. If you or your spouse would help shape it, email the district office.

Here is the practice for this week. Open your calendar to the next twelve months and place two things on it in writing: one full vacation and one retreat. Do it before the fall schedule fills in around you. Then tell two parties what you have done: your board, so the time is protected, and your family, so the time is promised.

​Next Monday: a number from our listening year, 4.8 out of 10, and the relationships no pastor should lead without.

Last Monday I asked you to draft a one-page rule of life for your next ninety days. If you did it, I suspect I know which line gave you the most trouble. It was not the morning prayer time. Most of us can protect twenty minutes before the phone comes on. The line that gives pastors trouble is the whole day.

Sabbath is the only spiritual discipline that made the Ten Commandments. Not solitude. Not fasting. Not silence, or study, or generosity. All of those are commended in Scripture and none of them were carved into stone at Sinai. Sabbath was. It sits in that list with the same weight as the commands against stealing and lying and coveting. And it is the one command in the list that pastors have become skilled at explaining away.

We have our reasons, and they sound reasonable. Sunday is a workday. The sermon does not preach itself. Hospitals do not keep a schedule. Someone has to be reachable. Every one of those statements is true, and not one of them is an exemption.

Here is the assumption underneath most of the reasons: Sabbath is what you get when the work is done. Finish the list, clear the inbox, close the loop, and then you have earned a day. Which means the day never arrives, because ministry is not the kind of work that finishes. There is always one more call to return, one more family in crisis, one more idea for the fall. If your rest is a wage you collect for completing the work, you will never collect it.

Scripture frames it the other way around. "Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy" (Exodus 20:8). The reason given is not productivity but creation: God worked six days, rested on the seventh, and blessed the day (Exodus 20:11). When Moses repeats the command in Deuteronomy, he grounds it somewhere else, in deliverance. "You shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the LORD your God brought you out from there" (Deuteronomy 5:15). Sabbath is the weekly evidence that you are not property. Slaves work without stopping because their worth is measured in output. Sons and daughters rest, because their worth was settled before they produced anything.

So a pastor who will not stop is making a theological statement, whether they intend to or not. The statement is that the church is held together by their effort. Sabbath contradicts it. One day a week you put the work down and the church does not collapse, and both you and your congregation learn something true about who is actually holding it.

Jesus did not soften the command. He recovered its purpose. "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath" (Mark 2:27). He said it while being accused of breaking it. He kept the day and he healed on it. That is the balance we are after.

So what does this look like for people whose busiest day of the week is Sunday?

Pick a real day, and pick it on purpose. Not the leftover margin of a Friday afternoon, and not "whenever things settle down." Twenty-four hours, the same day most weeks, chosen in advance.

Then distinguish the day off from the Sabbath. A day spent on errands, oil changes, and the yard is a useful day. It is not Sabbath. Sabbath has worship, rest, and delight in it.

Decide the rules before the week tests them. What counts as work for you? Does the phone stay off, or on for emergencies only, and who gets to define an emergency? Answer those questions once, on paper, rather than every week under pressure.

Then tell your board. This is the step most pastors skip, and it is the one that makes the rest of it hold. A Sabbath nobody knows about gets rescheduled quietly. A Sabbath your board has affirmed becomes part of how your church works, and it gives the people in your congregation permission to keep one too.

One caution, the same one I gave last week. Do not turn this into another scorecard. If you miss it, you have not sinned your way out of grace. Confess your sin and then keep the next Sabbath.

Here is the challenge for this week. Name your Sabbath day for the fall before the fall names it for you. Put it on the calendar, in writing, alongside the board meetings and the sermon series. Then tell your board you are keeping it, and tell them why. If you cannot say out loud to the people who lead with you that you intend to rest one day a week, that is worth paying attention to on its own.

Next Monday we go longer than a day: vacations and retreats, and the difference between time off and actual renewal.

Today we begin something new. For the next six weeks, Leadership Matters walks through the first of our plan's four impact areas: the health of our pastors. We are calling the series The Sustainable Pastor, and it is the plan's first theme, taken first, on purpose. Everything in ministry flows from the life of the one doing it. Healthy pastors lead healthy churches, healthy churches develop leaders, and developed leaders multiply Kingdom Expressions. The sequence starts here, with you.
 
And the series starts where Jesus started, on a mountainside, choosing the twelve.
 
Mark records the moment with an order that is easy to read past. "And he appointed twelve (whom he also named apostles) so that they might be with him and he might send them out to preach" (Mark 3:14). One appointment, two purposes. But notice the sequence. Being with him comes first. Being sent comes second. Jesus did not recruit the twelve for their output and then fit relationship in where the schedule allowed. He called them to his presence before he ever gave them an assignment.
 
Most of us affirm that order and live the reversal. The sending side of ministry arrives with deadlines attached. The sermon is due Sunday. The board meets Tuesday. The hospital calls today. Being with Jesus has no deadline at all, so it quietly goes last, and then it quietly goes missing. Nobody decides to stop praying. The calendar decides for them, one reasonable yes at a time.
 
Here is what happens when the order flips. The work of God gets done on fumes. For a while, nobody notices, because competence can imitate life longer than we like to admit. You can preach from old wells, lead from muscle memory, and care for people out of professional habit. But eventually the work consumes the worker. The listening year told us our pastors are carrying ministry alone, and the loneliest version of alone is doing the work of God at a distance from God.
 
Jesus refused that version of ministry, and he was busier than any of us. Mark shows him at the height of demand, the whole city gathered at the door the evening before, and then: "And rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, he departed and went out to a desolate place, and there he prayed" (Mark 1:35). The crowds had not shrunk. The needs had not softened. He withdrew anyway, because being with the Father was not what he did after the mission. It was where the mission came from.
 
So the practical question for this series is not whether you believe any of this. You do. The question is what will hold the "being with" in place when September arrives and the calendar starts throwing punches. And here is the conviction this whole series rests on: health does not come from intentions. It comes from architecture.
 
That is where a rule of life comes in. The term is old, but the idea is plain: a rule of life is a short, written plan for the habits that keep you connected to God, built into the calendar before ministry fills it. Not a monastic fantasy. A trellis. A vine does not grow better by trying harder; it grows better with something to grow on. A rule of life simply decides, in advance and in writing, when you will pray, when you will sit in Scripture for your own soul rather than for Sunday, when you will be silent, and when you will rest. Then those appointments get guarded the way you would guard any appointment with someone you answer to. Because you are keeping them with God.
 
Keep it to one page. Three headings are enough: daily, weekly, and seasonal. Under daily, perhaps a fixed morning time of prayer and Scripture before the phone comes on. Under weekly, a Sabbath and an unhurried hour of silence. Under seasonal, a retreat day each quarter. Yours will look different from mine, and it should. The only rule about a rule of life is that a modest one you keep will form you more than an ambitious one you abandon by Labor Day.
 
One warning as you write it. A rule of life is not another performance to grade yourself on. It is not a second job. It is the structure that protects the first calling, the one Jesus issued on that mountainside before he sent anyone anywhere: be with me. If your rule becomes a source of guilt instead of grace, shrink it until it becomes keepable, and remember that the goal was never the trellis. The goal is the vine.
 
This week's leadership practice: draft a one-page rule of life for your next ninety days. Daily, weekly, seasonal. Write it before August fills in. Then share it with one person who will ask you about it in September, because a rule nobody knows about is an intention, and we have already seen what happens to those.
 
Next Monday, the series continues with the discipline pastors are most skilled at explaining away: Sabbath.

​A vision that ends in applause has failed. A vision that ends in action has a chance.

Three weeks after District Conference, that line is no longer a caution about some future possibility. It is a live question sitting in front of every church in this district. At conference we laid out a five-year plan, built from a year of listening to our pastors and churches and shaped by the team our district board appointed to work alongside Catapult. This is the plan that will guide our efforts. Last week I handed you the map. So only one question remains, and it is the one I would ask if I could sit in on your next board meeting: what changes on Monday?

Jesus pressed this exact point at the close of his sermon in Luke 6, and he did not press it gently. "Why do you call me 'Lord, Lord,' and not do what I tell you?" (Luke 6:46). Then he told the story of the two builders. Both heard the same words. Both faced the same storm. The difference between the house that stood and the house that fell was not information, and it was not intention. It was that one of them "hears my words and does them" (Luke 6:47). James says the same thing with fewer syllables: "But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves" (James 1:22). Notice who gets deceived. Not the neighbors. The hearers themselves. It is entirely possible for a church to agree with everything and change nothing, and to feel faithful the whole time.

Before I go further, one distinction matters. Jesus was talking about his words. Not mine, and not a district plan. A strategy document does not belong in that sentence, and I am not asking you to treat one like Scripture. The reason the passage still presses on us is this: the plan exists for one purpose, to help our churches do what Jesus actually commanded, to make disciples. If we nod along at the Great Commission and change nothing about how we pursue it, we are the hearers James is worried about. The plan is not the word we are called to obey. It is a set of tools for obeying the word we already have.

So the question for your church is not "what do we think of the district plan?" The question is: what does obedience ask of us first?

Here is the good news. The first steps are not grand. Every action step we named at conference is something a real church can take in an ordinary week.

A cohort sign-up. For the first time, cohorts are open to staff pastors. Signing up takes one conversation and a few minutes.

A Great Commission Plan conversation. You do not need a finished plan this month. You need thirty minutes at your next board meeting on its three parts: making disciples who make disciples, impact in your community, and the global mission of God. Just start the conversation.

The global engagement inventory. Spend one honest hour asking what your church is actually doing among the nations, and how much of it reaches the unreached. If the answer is little or none, the Kethra Project and the Nasim Project are waiting for you.

One name, prayed for. Ahead of the first Encounter Event, ask the Lord to show you one person in your congregation who could gather disciples into a Kingdom Expression. Then pray for that person by name.

A hand raised for the Disciple-Making Lab. We need eight to ten pilot churches. If your church knows it needs a disciple-making pathway, going first is not a risk. It is a head start.

None of these requires a capital campaign, a consultant, or a season of study. Each one requires a decision made and then acted on. Intentions did not decide which house stood in the storm. The building did.

Keep the destination in front of you while you choose. By 2031: every Crossroads pastor has access to coaching, cohorts, and formation. Every Crossroads church has a Great Commission Plan and a developing leader for their next Kingdom Expression. A moonshot five years out is reached the same way a house survives a storm, by what gets built this week. The four impact areas give you the places to build: the health of our pastors, the health of our churches, the development of our leaders, and the multiplication of new Kingdom Expressions.

And a word to the pastor reading this in the quiet of July, feeling like everyone else must be further along: nobody is asking you for speed. Small obedience now outruns large intentions every time. The church that takes one real step this month will be miles past the church still waiting for the right season to begin.

So here is the challenge, and it is this week's whole assignment. Choose your church's single first step under one of the four impact areas. Write it in one sentence, with one name attached and one date on it, and put it where your board will see it. Then take the step. And when you do, tell me about it, because the celebrations section of this newsletter exists for exactly that.

​Next Monday we begin the first of four series walking the plan's themes: six weeks on The Sustainable Pastor, about the rhythms, rest, and relationships that keep a pastor whole. It is the plan's first theme, taken first, on purpose. I hope you will read along, and I hope you will invite your board to read with you.

​Two weeks ago, our district said yes to a plan. This week I want to hand you the map: CLICK HERE TO VIEW

When God gave Habakkuk a vision, he attached an instruction to it: “Write the vision; make it plain on tablets, so he may run who reads it” (Habakkuk 2:2). God did not want the vision admired. He wanted it written down clearly enough that his people could read it and act on it. The same needs to be true of the five-year plan we launched together at District Conference. It should not live in a binder on a shelf at the district office. It should be plain enough that a pastor, a board member, or a brand-new leader can pick it up and run with it.

So let me make it plain.

Start with the destination. Here is the moonshot, and I intend to repeat it until every one of us can say it from memory. By 2031: every Crossroads pastor has access to coaching, cohorts, and formation. Every Crossroads church has a Great Commission Plan and a developing leader for their next Kingdom Expression.

Everything the district does for the next five years climbs toward those two sentences. And the climb moves on four impact areas: the health of our pastors, the health of our churches, the development of our leaders, and the multiplication of new Kingdom Expressions.

Notice the order, because it matters. These four are a sequence, not a menu. Healthy pastors lead healthy churches. Healthy churches develop leaders. Developed leaders multiply new Kingdom Expressions. You cannot skip a step and expect the next one to hold. A church cannot develop leaders it does not have, and a pastor running on empty cannot build a healthy congregation, no matter how good the plan is. Paul describes the church as a body “joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly,” so that it “builds itself up in love” (Ephesians 4:16). When each part is working properly. That is the logic of the four themes. Pastor, church, leader, multiplication: each one supplies the next.

Underneath all four runs one engine, and I want to name it now because it is our focus for this first year: disciple-making. Making disciples who make disciples is what turns a healthy pastor into a healthy church, a healthy church into a pipeline of leaders, and a pipeline of leaders into new Kingdom Expressions. It is the work the plan exists to serve, and the Disciple-Making Lab is where that focus will land this year. You will hear much more about the Lab this fall.

Now, here is why I am giving you the map in July. This newsletter is going to walk the whole plan with you, one theme at a time, between now and the end of the year. Consider this issue the table of contents.

Beginning July 27, we will spend six weeks on the first theme in a series called The Sustainable Pastor: the rhythms, rest, and relationships that keep a pastor whole, because everything in ministry flows from the life of the one doing it. In September and October, eight weeks on the Marks of a Healthy Church: what health actually is, how to assess it honestly, and how to build your church’s Great Commission Plan in its three parts. In November, five weeks on Becoming the Leader the Future Needs, timed to the season when many of us review the year and plan the next one. And through Advent, four weeks on New Kingdom Expressions, because God’s first mission move was presence, and Christmas is the right season to talk about filling our communities with the church.

Each series will stand on its own. You will be able to hand a whole series to your board, your staff, or a developing leader as one piece. Which is exactly what I hope you will do, starting now.

Because here is the honest truth about district plans: a plan owned only by the district office is a document. A plan owned by a hundred churches is a movement. The moonshot does not need your admiration. It needs your congregation’s participation, one impact area at a time.

​So here is this week’s assignment, and it is a simple one. Share this issue with your board or leadership team, and ask them one question: which of the four areas does our church most need this year? The health of your pastor. The health of your church. The development of your leaders. The multiplication of something new. Let the conversation run longer than you planned. Then hold onto the answer, because the series that addresses it is already on the calendar, and I wrote the map so you could run.

​The last thing I said to you at the close of District Conference was not an action step. It was a command Jesus gave to a room full of people who were ready to go. He had a mission for them that would reach the ends of the earth, and his instruction was to wait. "Do not depart from Jerusalem, but wait for the promise of the Father" (Acts 1:4). Stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high.

One week out, I want to make sure we meant it.

The conference is behind us now. The room has emptied, the reports are filed, and the moonshot we said yes to is written down where our boards can read it. July has settled in, the slowest month of the church year, when attendance dips and the building goes quiet and the calendar finally loosens its grip. This is exactly the moment the disciples faced. The teaching was finished. The commission was clear. Everything in them wanted to move. And Jesus told them to sit in an upper room and wait.

We do not like that instruction. We are builders. We have a plan now, and a plan is a call to action, and action is what leaders do. But hear what Jesus was protecting them from. He was not delaying the mission. He was fueling it. The upper room was not a waiting area before the real work began. It was the source of everything that followed. Without Pentecost, Acts is a group of frightened people with good intentions and a locked door.

I said something at the rally that I want to keep saying all summer: if the church is going to make an impact for God, it first needs a fresh encounter with God. That order is not negotiable. Encounter comes before impact. The plan is the wineskin. The Holy Spirit is the wine. We can pour ourselves into cohorts and Great Commission Plans and Kingdom Expressions, and if we attempt all of it in our own strength, we will produce a great deal of activity and very little fruit.

Consider what actually happened in that room. They devoted themselves to prayer (Acts 1:14). They were not strategizing. They were not workshopping their launch. They were waiting on God together, and when the day of Pentecost arrived, "suddenly there came from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting" (Acts 2:2). Then, and only then, the doors opened and three thousand were added in a single day. The mission moved at the speed of the Spirit, not at the speed of their ambition.

Here is my concern for us, and it is a pastoral one. Vision is at its most vulnerable in the weeks right after it is cast. The glow fades. The ordinary returns. And the temptation is to treat the encounter as something we already had, back at the conference, in that moment when the room was full and the singing was strong. But an encounter you had in June will not fuel a mission you are living in October. The upper room is not a memory. It is a rhythm.

July is our first chance to prove we meant what we prayed. There is no conference to prepare for, no big Sunday looming, no reason to rush. That means there is no better time to do the one thing the disciples did before they did anything else. Wait on God. Ask him to fill you before he sends you.

I am practicing this myself. As many of you know, I am away with my family this week, and I am trying to let the rest be its own form of trust, a way of confessing that God runs this district and I do not. Some of you are the opposite of rested right now, using the one open stretch on the calendar to run hard and get everything done. Wherever you are, the invitation is the same. Do not go yet. Not because the mission does not matter, but because it matters too much to attempt on fumes.

We have a plan worth giving our lives to. Let us make sure we give it to God first.

​This week's practice: Before you build anything else this summer, schedule your own upper room. Put one unhurried hour on the calendar this week, guard it like an appointment, and spend it waiting on God with nothing to produce. Ask him plainly to fill you before he sends you. Then watch what he does with a leader who learned to wait.