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A woman walks into the lobby on a Sunday morning, scanning the signs. Her shoulders are tight. She's clutching her phone like a lifeline. You see her pause near the welcome desk, hesitating. "Excuse me," she finally says. "Where's the nursery?" You could point. You could rattle off hallway names and building numbers. Or you could see her, really see her, and realize she's not just asking for a room. She's asking if this place is safe for her baby. She's asking if she belongs

Category: Leadership When trust breaks in a church community, everything else fractures with it. Volunteers stop showing up. Staff meetings turn tense. Giving declines. Families quietly slip out the back door and never return. Rebuilding trust isn't about hosting a single reconciliation event or issuing a blanket apology from the pulpit. It requires a deliberate, proven framework that addresses the root causes of broken trust and implements consistent practices over time. If

You've watched it happen. That passionate volunteer who used to light up the room now drags themselves to meetings. The person who once said "yes" to everything suddenly becomes a ghost. Volunteer burnout isn't just an organizational problem, it's a spiritual crisis that affects the entire body of Christ. Here's what most leadership books won't tell you: preventing volunteer burnout isn't about better scheduling software or pizza parties. It's about leading from a place of re

Something powerful happens when you truly look at someone. Not a quick glance. Not a distracted half-look while checking your phone. But that intentional, focused moment when your eyes meet theirs and they know, without a single word, that they matter to you. As a connection pastor or church leader, you carry an incredible responsibility. Every Sunday, every hallway conversation, every counseling session presents an opportunity to communicate something profound: You are seen.

Sunday morning. The parking lot is filling up. Cars are pulling in, engines cutting off, doors opening. And somewhere between the asphalt and your church's front entrance, something sacred is about to happen. You're standing at the door. Coffee in hand. Smile ready. Name tag on. But here's what you might not fully realize yet: for someone walking toward you right now, you are about to become the first safe human they see today. Maybe this week. Maybe in a long time. That's no

Welcome to The Connected Church series. What you're about to read isn't just theory: it's the heartbeat of what I've witnessed transform struggling ministries into thriving faith communities. Over my years as a pastor, coach, and leadership consultant, one truth has become crystal clear: connection is no longer optional. It's essential. Think about the last time you felt truly seen at church. Not just greeted. Not just handed a bulletin. But genuinely known. That moment? That

Sunday morning arrives. The parking lot fills up. Visitors walk through the doors: some confident, others nervous, a few wondering if they even belong. And there you stand at the welcome desk, ready to greet them. But here's the question that changes everything: Are you truly present with each person, or are you just moving bodies through the door? For those serving on the greeter and door team, this distinction matters more than you might realize. Your role isn't just logis

You're doing everything right. Leading the small group. Organizing the potluck. Volunteering at Wednesday night service. Answering every prayer request text at 11 PM. And somehow, you're running on fumes. Here's the hard truth: Christian community isn't supposed to drain you dry. If following Jesus feels like a second full-time job that's burning you out, something's off. Not with your faith: with how we've structured our communities. Dr. Layne McDonald has spent years coachi

Sunday morning. You're standing at the door with your name tag on, coffee in hand, ready to welcome people into God's house. You smile, shake hands, maybe comment on the weather. Simple, right? Here's what you might not realize: You're not just greeting people, you're shaping their entire church experience in the first 10 minutes. Dr. Layne McDonald has worked with church leadership teams for years, and one truth keeps surfacing: the greeter isn't just the first face people s

Sometimes the most powerful moments of faith happen between the Sunday morning announcements and the closing prayer. They're tucked into the smile exchanged in the parking lot, the hand squeeze during prayer, the way someone notices you're carrying too much and grabs a door. These aren't the headline moments. They're the heartbeats, the ordinary rhythms of a church family learning to love like Jesus in the middle of regular life. This week at First Assembly, I watched grace s

You're sitting across from someone who's pouring out their heart. They're talking about their marriage, their job, their fear that they're failing at both. And while they're speaking, you're already three steps ahead, mentally composing the perfect advice, rehearsing the Bible verse that will fix everything, planning your response. You think you're helping. But you're not listening. Here's the truth most of us don't want to admit: we've turned listening into a waiting game. W

You know what nobody tells you about vision casting? It's not about having all the answers. It's about having the courage to ask better questions while your boots are still muddy from yesterday's work. That's the Mid-South way. We don't do flash and glitter here. We do substance. We do follow-through. We roll up our sleeves, and we get it done: but we do it with our eyes fixed on something bigger than the next quarter or the next service. Vision casting isn't a one-time sermo

There's something about the way the sun hits the Mississippi River at 6:30 in the morning. The light catches the water just right, and for a minute: before the traffic picks up on Riverside Drive, before the noise of the day begins: it feels like the whole city is holding its breath. I've lived in Memphis long enough to know that God doesn't always show up in the big, dramatic moments. Sometimes He's right there in the quiet ones. In the steam rising from your coffee cup at a

There's something about walking into a room and knowing, really knowing, that you're safe. Not just physically, but emotionally. Spiritually. That you can exhale. That you don't have to perform or prove anything. That someone will catch you if you stumble. That's what real community belonging feels like. And honestly? It's rarer than it should be. I've been thinking a lot about what it means to create spaces where people can land safely. Not just show up, but truly land, with

Your coffee got cold before you could finish it. Again. You're rushing between tasks, checking your phone, thinking about the next thing before you've even completed the current one. The day blurs by, and before you know it, you're climbing into bed wondering where the hours went: and more importantly, wondering if you actually lived any of them. I see this pattern everywhere. We're so focused on the destination that we miss the scenery along the way. We're waiting for the b

There's something sacred about watching someone set up chairs before anyone arrives. No audience. No applause. Just quiet service that says, "I want people to feel welcome here." I've noticed that our most faithful volunteers rarely seek recognition. They arrive early, stay late, and somehow remember everyone's name. They're the ones who notice when someone's missing, who bring extra snacks just in case, and who treat every task, from folding bulletins to leading worship, as

The smell of coffee brewing. The sound of children's laughter echoing down hallways. The gentle hum of conversation before the music starts. There's something sacred about ordinary Sunday mornings that we often miss in our rush to get everything "right." I used to arrive at church services careening into the parking lot, scrambling to gather my Bible and coffee mug, checking my phone one last time before heading inside. I was physically present, but my heart was still catchin

By Dr. Layne McDonald You've probably walked into a room where everyone seemed busy, distracted, or looking down at their phones. Then someone looked up, caught your eye, and smiled. That moment changed everything, didn't it? That's the power of eye contact. It's not just polite, it's transformational. For those of us serving in greeter teams, hospitality ministries, or any role where first impressions matter, understanding this simple truth can reshape how we welcome people