As we continue to navigate what we want Good Shepherd to do and be and how we want it to feel, the following distinction keeps roaming around in my head:

Are our experiences therapeutic or theocentric?

Now those are big sounding words but they actually communicate relatively simple truths.

We live in a culture that is therapy-focused. We often redefine sin as sickness. Thus, the solution is therapy or healing as opposed to repentance and renewal. Broken people want to be put back together -- often in recovery groups or individual counseling. Many times, our environments at Good Shepherd have that kind of vibe. I believe that's both a strength and a weakness.

The theocentric concept is the other side of that coin. The word literally means "God-centered." (Theo is Greek for "God," while centric means "centered.") From this perspective, the focus of any church gathering is to honor & praise & meditate on God -- his character, his power, his attributes. Our Calvinist friends are brilliant in crafting environments that begin and end with God-centered reflections.

So what's the solution?

Perhaps I'm asking the wrong question in all this. I have an idea that when you have a theocentric focus then therapy happens naturally. In other words, when you dwell on who God is, healing happens in the deepest part of the human heart.

So: therapeutic or theocentric? Answer: yes.

Church meetings are legendary, aren't they?

And not in the way, say, Michael Jordan is legendary in basketball. Or Joe Montana in football. Or even Roger Federer in tennis.

No, church meetings are legendary for the bloodshed -- real and imagined -- that they involve.

Whether it's a contentious assembly of a church board or an angst-filled planning session for church staff or -- worst of all -- an "all church business meeting," few things strike more fear in the heart of a congregation than the phrase "let's meet."

So in trying to navigate all that, I've landed on a guideline that's helpful. Here it is:

Don’t mistake the loudest voice for the greatest wisdom.

Because that's often what we do, isn't it? We believe that simply because someone increases the volume then that person must have additional insight. So we go along with what they say.

Or, more often, we cave into their viewpoint because we don't want to cause a scene in church.

Both reactions are deadly. In my time, I have seen churches take disastrous turns just to appease an influential person who held a strong, loud, and wrong view of a particular issue.

Granted, sometimes wisdom is connected to volume.

But more often, I believe, it resembles the "still small voice" with which God spoke to Elijah.

So in church meetings as in all of life, don't mistake the loudest voice for the greatest wisdom.

Does a great series make a great church?

I've been wondering that recently.

We put a lot of work into the different Sunday series. We lay it out for titles that pop, visuals that capture, music that moves, and, hopefully, messages that connect.

Some of the ones I feel best about over the last couple of years include Oddballs, Loved, There's An App For That, and The Fight Of Your Life. And I'm delighted with the way that the current Text Message on Sunday mornings has led to ConTXT on Sunday evening.

But does all that effort (and for the music and visuals, at least, all that skill) lead to a stronger, better, more holy congregation? Do folks know the Scriptures better and live them out accordingly? Are they better spouses, parents, children, and neighbors as a result of what happens in our Sunday gathering?

I suppose I'm really wondering this: does what happens on Sunday in our Worship Center really matter?

Some days, I answer all those questions affirmatively.

Other days, not so much.

This day, I'm sort of in the middle.

But I think as we listen ever more for the Spirit's call, the questions are worth asking.

I went to sleep last night asking God to give me a word or Scripture for use in a meeting today.

I woke up at about 2 a.m. and 2 Timothy 1:7 was planted firmly in my mind:

"For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-control."

It is quite easy in church leadership to adopt that spirit of timidity. It's the spirit that wants to offend as few people as possible, the spirit that endorses the status quo, the spirit that says don't fix what's not broken.

The spirit of timidity leads to death in churches.

That's why the spirit God does give us is fascinating to me. Look at the balancing act necessary between power, love, and self-control.

Usually people with great power have little love. Many times, people consumed by love forget their self-control. And self-controlled people are often too "in control" to demonstrate much power.

In Christ, God gives us the marvelous mix of all three.

Hearing that word is worth waking up in the middle of the night.

It's a hard lesson of ministry. It's a lesson I'm still learning.

But it's true nonetheless.

Addition By Subtraction.

On many occasions, the best way to strengthen a church's impact & effectiveness is to lessen the number of things a church actually does.

When a church forgoes ancillary ministries, it is then better able to focus all of its energy and creativity on those ministries that are central to its purpose.

And here's the truth: it's much easier to start a church with this mindset than it is to transition a church into it. People devote their time and resources into certain areas of ministry, and it can be frankly painful to discover those ministries are no longer core to the mission of the church.

One of my favorite analogies is this: you can't buy a hamburger at Chick Fil-A. They do what they do and they do it (in my opinion) brilliantly. But they don't do what they don't do.

So at our church we try to be diligent in harnessing our energy and creativity towards those things that really are central to Walking Together: worship, relationships, and mission. By God's grace, as we've become slightly less "busy," we've become slightly more effective.

It's ministry math.

Addition by subtraction.