Online Communication - What "counts"?

Facebook has changed the way people communicate. At Campbell, we have guidelines for how staff relates with people online, similar to the United Methodist “Safe Sanctuaries” guidelines for face-to-face communication.

Because the landscape is always changing, we are continually discussing the implications of new means of communication. So, it is not a static policy; it must remain fluid in order to respond to rapid changes in the virtual world.

Our latest conversation pertains to notifying “the church” when someone has a need (an illness, surgery, the death of a loved one, etc.). Put rather crassly, the question is what should “count” for notifying the church.

If a staff member happens to read an update on someone’s timeline that says, “Surgery set for tomorrow,” or something similar, does that indicate that the person wants a pastor to show up for prayer and so the staff member should contact a pastor to make sure that happens?

If a pastor reads someone’s tweet indicating a need, but does not respond, is that a failure of pastoral obligation? What if a pastor reads the tweet and DOES respond, but the individual didn’t actually want a personal response?

Currently, we have the guideline that a Facebook post (or a Tweet, or any online posting) does not constitute an “official contact.” A phone call, email, or text message does. The reasoning is that those three are directed communications, rather than public announcements. As such, we do not do a pastoral visit for something we only learn about online.

On the flipside, someone on staff may contact a person individually to respond to something learned online, and in that conversation the staff member needs to ask, “Would you like this concern included in the prayer list?” and/or “Would you like a pastor to visit?” and/or “Could we arrange some meals for you while you recover?” or something like that, depending on the situation. Then, the church responds “officially” to the need.

Even as I re-read that paragraph, it sounds silly. But it is where we are at the moment. And so we’d like some input. What are your thoughts on these questions? And what guidelines, if any, does your church follow regarding social network posts? What should those guidelines be?

Thanks in advance for your comments!

The Last Stop of the Day

It was the last stop of a long afternoon.

We had been out since just after lunch, bringing communion to people unable to get out to attend worship. It had been a long few hours, having driven all over town and had conversations with nine other people in four different places. Then setting up, praying the Great Thanksgiving, and serving little bites of bread and sips of grape juice to the small gatherings.

It doesn't sound like much, but it is tiring. And so now, at the last stop of the afternoon, I was kind of zoning out. I was ready to be done. I mechanically checked the supplies, seeing that we had enough bread and juice in the portable communion set.

It was a little house and an elderly couple lived there. He is quite hard of hearing and so we had to yell our greetings in his direction. She is not in the best of health and deals with almost contstant pain, but has to take care of him because he is just as bad as her, and he is starting to slip a bit mentally.

She can't leave him alone for very long at a time. Like to go to church or something.

We sat in an uncomfortably warm living room, talking with her and yelling at him, and discussed the weather and "The Shack" and flowers and how she used to read books to school children. And when enough time had passed, I got out the bread, poured juice into the little plastic cups, and turned to the Great Thanksgiving in my pocket book of worship.

"Shall we pray?" I asked.

And they nodded.

I read the prayer for the fifth time that afternoon, and didn't stumble over any words. I even emoted.

At the "Amen," I picked up the tiny plate with pieces of diced bread stacked on it, stood up and took a couple of steps over to where she was sitting. Holding out the bread, I looked into her face. Before I could say, "The body of Christ..." - my voice caught in my throat.

She was crying.

Her cheeks were wet, and tears filled her eyes. Her chin was even quivering just a little. She took the bread gently with her arthritis shaped hands. "The body of Christ is for you," I whispered.

What had happened? For me, it was the fifth Great Thanksgiving of the day; I was tired; it was diced bread and juice, some of which I had just spilled all over the back seat of the car trying to refill that silly little bottle; it was rote; it was me doing my job.

For her, it was Holy Communion.

God showed up in spite of me. For a moment there, she was connected to her church again, connected to God through the sacrament in a real and powerful way. For just a moment there, she wasn't worrying about her nearly deaf husband who was starting down the path to dementia. For a moment there, her chronic pain was not invading every waking thought.

I almost missed it. I don't think I've ever been more keenly aware of my role as a vessel of God's grace as I was upon realizing that moment. Melt me - Mold me - Fill me - Use me. God didn't even move me aside; God just went on ahead as if I wasn't there at all. It seems to me that a whole lot of ministry is just showing up. God does most of it, to tell the truth.

It happened at the last stop of the day.

Proactive Pastoral Care

Back in seminary, Professor Hoeft taught a lesson about proactive pastoral care. Proactive pastoral care is basically approaching a person without invitation, offering care when they have not expressed a desire or need for it themselves. Visiting nursing home bound people falls into this category. So would calling a person whom you had heard through the grapevine was “having a hard time,” maybe a personal struggle or dealing with a family member’s issues. Calling someone “just to check in” or “see how things are going,” for example.

This kind of unsolicited care can be very meaningful and fruitful ministry. I understand that. The pastor who does a lot of proactive pastoral care is probably well-loved and highly thought of by the congregation. It really is a self-sacrificial kind of ministry, and a truly wonderful calling to fulfill. There are boundaries to observe, certainly, but when done with integrity and respect, it’s all good.

But here’s the rub: Having said all that, I cannot be a proactive pastoral care giver, or at least I haven’t been over the past seven years of my ministry. In truth, there is no way I personally can invest any more time and energy into ministry than I am already doing without coming completely unwound. All of the pastoral care I am able to do is responsive, not proactive. My pastoral care is responding to hospitalizations, people who call, write, or come by my study with issues to discuss, premarital counseling, being present with families upon the death of a loved one, and other situations in which I am contacted with a care request.

I truly treasure these care-giving opportunities as sacred moments of trust and Christian conversation, and I feel my calling to ministry fulfilled when I engage them. But when I add to that the time and energy of worship planning, sermon writing, Bible study prep, Sunday School lesson prep, administrative responsibilities, staff and leader training, etc. my work life is filled to the brim. Then I balance personal spiritual growth and family time into all of that mix, too.

Here’s the way we deal with the situation here in Northtown – we have abandoned the myth that the only person who can do proactive pastoral care is the pastor. Oh, there are some who are still caught in the mindset that says “If the pastor hasn’t visited me, I haven’t been visited.” But by and large this remarkable congregation takes care of one another. We have a dedicated group of Stephen Ministers. We have a compassionate Associate Pastor for Visiting Ministries. We have a Director of Lay Ministries who keeps tabs on things with amazing grace and patience. And, most important, we have a bunch of people who really love each other and know how important it is to care for one another in times of need.

So, there is proactive pastoral care happening, it’s just not me doing it! People are visited, cared for, loved. They stay connected to each other. Sometimes someone “falls through the cracks,” so to speak, meaning that occasionally we lose track of a person who hasn’t been around for a while. But that is definitely the exception, rather than the rule. And how lucky am I to serve a congregation who “gets it” with regard to this issue? I am the “responsive” pastoral care giver; the church themselves are the “proactive” care givers.

That seems to be a pretty healthy arrangement. I wonder if any of you readers have thoughts based on your pastoral care experiences in other congregations. Please feel free to share in the comments.