My wife Christine is the pastor of our cul-de-sac. Yesterday, one of our neighbors brought her a potted plant as a thank-you for kind things Christine has done for their family. The last time we had a block party, another of our neighbors told me, "Christine is the only one on the block who knows everyone's name." If there is a party to organize, if someone is looking for their kids, or if anyone has a question about the next National Night Out, Christine is the go-to resource.
She has earned that position by taking notes.
Christine takes note of people — literally. Any time she visits with a neighbor in the front yard, or attends a birthday party for a neighbor kid, she comes home and scribbles notes about what she learned.
- Neighbor A has a sister in the hospital.
- Neighbor B is from Bangladesh.
- Neighbor C is worried about another round of layoffs.
I think if you gathered up all the scrap paper in our house, you could piece together the family trees of everyone on our block.
Is that creepy? Maybe a little. Maybe instead of the pastor of our street, I should say she's the stalker on our street. But it's also terribly effective. Our neighbors can't believe how thoughtful she is when she asks about an ailing family member they mentioned to her three months ago. It shows a level of caring and selflessness they aren't used to.
I'm not as good a stalker / pastor as Christine, but I've started trying. Years ago when we joined our small group, I sat down to write everything I knew about the guys in the group — favorite sports, musical tastes, how many siblings they have, age, career, hobbies, whatever. I was able to fill about one page per guy.
Last month, as part of small group leader training for our church's Men's Ministry, I encouraged table leaders to do the same: after the first week, write everything they know about each guy at their table, and then make it a goal to double that knowledge by the end of the semester. If they could fill one page the first week, surely they could listen to their brothers enough to fill two pages 10 weeks later.
One of my pastor friends likes to talk about "pastoring a personal parish." Your church's "parish" is defined by geography — neighborhoods and cities around its building. But your personal parish is defined by relationships — a family member out of state, a parent on your kid's soccer team, a coworker in the Beijing office. As our world continues to grow beyond physical boundaries, our personal ministries do too.
On Saturday, I was sitting next to Christine in some bleachers watching our six-year-old play in his second baseball game with a new team, when I noticed she was typing something into her phone. She was taking notes again. As each boy approached the plate for his at-bat, Christine was listening to his parents' cheers and taking note of his name and number. Our team has two coaches and I guarantee they don't know all the boys' names. But Christine does. She's pastoring from the bleachers — adopting these boys and their parents into her personal parish.
Will those relationships ever lead to spiritual conversations? Knowing Christine, probably so. But even if they don't, she has loved them well. She has been a thoughtful ambassador for Jesus. She has cultivated deeper relationships. Maybe the rest of us should take note.
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