Why I Wear a Clerical Collar: Personal reflections on history, ministry, and gospel engagement

I’ve been asked again recently why I often wear a clerical collar. I want to start by saying:
It is not Roman Catholic.
The shortest possible answer is this: why do policemen wear uniforms? So people know they’re there to serve. Why do doctors wear coats? So people know who the doctor is. A clerical collar functions in much the same way — it’s a kind of uniform that makes my role recognizable.
In what follows I want to offer four lenses on why I wear a collar:

1. A personal story
2. A pragmatic purpose
3. A historical tradition
4. A brief note about biblical precedent

1. A Personal Story

When I was in St. Louis, my very first regular, every-Sunday preaching call was as chaplain of a 55-plus retirement community. I led a weekly worship service there. I assumed I should show up in a nice suit every week — after all, that’s what “good pastors” did. Trouble was: I didn’t own a nice suit. And every week I’d arrive only to hear people say, “Who are you again?” They were paying me to be there, and they still didn’t remember my name. Folks assumed I was a salesman — some even hesitated to let me into their apartments.
A church history professor of mine — whose article I’ll link later about the Protestant history of the clerical collar — finally said, “Why don’t you start wearing a clerical collar?” In church tradition, seminarians can begin wearing them.
St. Louis is profoundly Roman Catholic, Jewish, and Lutheran, and if you know anything about Lutherans, they still wear clerical collars. Long story short: he told me clerical collars actually come out of the Presbyterian tradition. The Roman Catholics and Lutherans got it from us.
And — voilà. No one ever asked what I was doing there again. People started welcoming me into their homes and striking up conversations. My experience since then has been similar: most people are much more willing to have a random conversation with me when I wear a clerical collar — especially other-than-Christian and unchurched people. There are occasional exceptions: in particular people with Protestant Christian backgrounds have preconceptions for all sorts of reasons. So I try to be thoughtful about when I wear it. But among folks who are hurting or unfamiliar with church culture, the collar often functions as a bridge, not a barrier. There’s a reason you still see clerical collars worn by anyone representing clergy (whether they’re supposed to be Roman Catholic or not) on television. 

2. Practical Experiences with the Collar

Here are a few stories that illustrate what I mean.

Campus Ministry

In my first ordained call as an RUF campus minister, I was told, “When you’re on campus, don’t wear a clerical collar.”So I didn’t. But toward the end of my time when I know we were leaving, I started wearing it anyway. In those last few weeks as a campus minister, I had more spontaneous spiritual conversations than I had all year. Students approached me; I didn’t have to find them. I shared the gospel. It was wonderful.

The Salvation Army

Later, when I worked for the Salvation Army, all the Salvation Officers wore uniforms. I wasn’t an officer, but I was still there as ordained clergy. So I wore my clerical collar. 
More than once, both at the rehab and out on the street doing ministry with the Salvation Army, police were called for various reasons — I was running a drug and alcohol rehab and in inner city Oklahoma City— I was very glad to have it on. The collar made clear that I was there to serve, not a threat.

OU Medical

And a sort of dramatic story:
I was at OU Medical Center, walking out of the emergency room after visiting someone, when a man showed up right outside the entrance with a gun. He started firing. Police were sprinting toward him from every direction.
Inside, I was on my way out when the shooting started, so I was in the waiting room when the shots were fired. Someone grabbed me and said, “Father, what should we do?”
In that moment, it didn’t matter that I wasn’t a Roman Catholic priest — I didn’t correct them. What did matter was the visible sign that I was there to serve.
Because I was wearing my clerical collar, I was able to speak with authority and calm into a chaotic moment. I directed people to get down. I herded them out of danger. I got them into a safer room while police engaged the threat. In those seconds, the collar wasn’t about prestige — it was about clarity. It gave me a platform to lead people toward safety.
That experience showed me that the collar isn’t about ego. It’s about identification — especially in moments when people are vulnerable and looking for direction.
So yes: it started as needing clerical recognition in seminary, and since then I’ve seen a lot of practical, gospel fruit come from wearing it. I continue to delight in the number of other-than-Christian people who are willing to enter into spiritual conversations with me quickly because they identify me as a priest/pastor/religious leader/whatever.

3. The Collar as a Uniform

Pragmatically, the clerical collar really is a uniform.
Like a police uniform. Like a doctor’s coat. It tells people who I am and what I’m there for. People recognize: I’m a pastor. I’m here to help.
In my last call, the senior pastor also wore a clerical collar. He’s been a PCA minister for over thirty years. Before his ministry, he served in the Air Force, and he always used the uniform analogy: uniforms aren’t about status or personality — they’re about visibility and service.
A lot of Protestants assume the collar means “Roman Catholic.” But other-than-Christian people mostly just go, “Oh — it’s a guy who does funerals and prays and listens when things are bad.” It gives me the freedom to walk into hospitals without a lot of questions. When tornadoes hit Oklahoma, it let us cross emergency lines and help people. In certain large public gatherings I’ve attended, it has set me apart in a way that opened doors rather than shut them.
In one particularly memorable event, I wasn’t there to do anything public. I was just attending to see what was going on and be available. But a group of Black pastors — all wearing collars — saw mine, grabbed me, and said, “Brother, come on up.” None of them were Roman Catholic. They were all Protestant pastors wearing clerical collars because they knew it gave visible recognition as clergy.
So, yes — it’s a uniform.

4. Historical Roots in the Reformed Tradition

Despite popular assumptions, the clerical collar did not originate with Roman Catholic priests.

In fact, if you look at painted portraits of figures like Jonathan Edwards, George Whitefield, or John Wesley, you’ll notice they’re often depicted wearing preaching tabs — a clear form of clerical dress that predates the modern collar but served the same purpose of visibly marking their office.

Pastor Tim LeCroy lays this out very helpfully in his article,
“A Short History of the Wearing of Clerical Collars in the Presbyterian Tradition”:
https://pastortimlecroy.com/2012/05/17/a-short-history-of-the-wearing-of-clerical-collars-in-the-presbyterian-tradition/

As he explains:

• Until about the 6th century, Christian pastors simply wore common, modest clothing.
• Over time, clergy dress remained conservative while lay fashion changed, making clergy clothing look distinctive by contrast.
• In Reformed circles, 17th and 18th-century ministers often wore dignified neck scarves and preaching tabs — recognized clerical attire.
• The modern clerical collar — detachable and worn around the neck — was invented in 19th-century Scotland by a Presbyterian minister, the Rev. Dr. Donald McLeod, not by Roman Catholics.

There’s even a fascinating piece of cultural history you might find interesting that I heard in an NPR podcast on the history of Evangelicalism: before World War I, Protestant clergy commonly wore religious garb, vestments, or distinctive dress. In the Depression era, a popular Baptist preacher (a precursor to the health-and-wealth movement) began wearing suits and encouraged other pastors to do the same, linking professional attire with positive thinking and success — and many clergy followed his lead. That shift helped make “business suits” the default for Protestant ministers for much of the 20th century, rather than traditional clerical or liturgical dress.

All of this shows that clerical dress has deep roots in Protestant history — even if it faded for a time and got replaced in many circles by secular business attire.

5. A Brief Note on Biblical Precedent

To be clear, the Bible does not command any specific clerical garment. But there are moments where distinctive clothing marked a role. Prophets were told what to wear in specific contexts. Rabbis and synagogue leaders wore clothing that signaled teaching authority. Jesus himself, in his own cultural context, wore clothing that set him apart as a rabbi — recognizable even when people didn’t yet know his name.
While pastors are not prophets in the biblical sense, there is precedent for God-ordained roles being signified in visible ways that help others identify office rather than exalt the wearer.
Jesus warns against doing things to be seen (Matthew 23), yet he himself embodied visible authority rooted in service.

Conclusion: A Collar as Servant Identity

So there you have it:

• A personal history of how the collar helped me actually do ministry
• Practical encounters where its visibility mattered
• A Reformed and Presbyterian tradition that predates Roman Catholic association
• And a reminder that Scripture allows visible markers for roles when they serve love and clarity

For me, wearing a clerical collar isn’t about hierarchy or puffed-up identity. It’s about being recognizable as someone called to serve, pray with people, and bring the hope of the gospel into real-world moments.
I know it’s strange for some people who aren’t used to it. But I’ve seen far more good and than ill from it. So while I won’t wear it if I think it will cause problems, more often than not a short (much shorter than this!) explanation (normally for people who are already Christians anyway) removes the barrier and I’ve been able to see fruit, or at least no harm.

Connections in Small Groups

How are your Life Groups doing?

More specifically: how are your groups doing at connecting with one another on a heart level? Cloud and Townsend ask whether our groups are connecting “on a heart-based level” (71), and I think that’s a helpful and challenging question for all of us.

Are your conversations mostly about pains and aches—what a friend of mine used to call an “organ recital”? Or are people talking about what’s going on in their hearts—what they love, how they’re feeling, how they’re connecting with God, how they’re seeing Jesus at work in their lives?

Do you sense that people in your group are actually becoming attached to one another?

Cloud and Townsend remind us that connection doesn’t just happen. For people to connect, a group has to be safe, non-judgmental, and honest, and as leaders, we’re actively helping guide the group in that direction (71). That means we’re paying attention to the process of connection, not just the content of the meeting.

And if that doesn’t come naturally to you—if this kind of connection feels awkward or unfamiliar—it may be an invitation for personal growth. You can’t lead people to places you haven’t been yourself. If real connection isn’t happening in your group, you may eventually need to do the awkward but important thing: talk about it. Ask questions like the ones Cloud and Townsend suggest, such as, “Does anyone have concerns about how safe this group feels for opening up about what’s really going on?”

As they put it, “A good group constantly makes sure that what is needed for connection is present” (72). But that only happens if someone is watching for it—and willing to name it. That may be uncomfortable, especially if you’re not used to connecting at that level yourself. For some of us, we’ve never actually had a safe place like that. If that’s you, this isn’t a failure—it’s an opportunity for growth in godliness.

I want to be clear about something here: not all vulnerability is good vulnerability. There is a kind of vulnerability that lacks wisdom, or that turns into self-indulgence or even a kind of spiritual voyeurism. But there is also redemptive vulnerability, and that kind of vulnerability is a mark of healthy Christian community. It’s something worth cultivating—not just for the sake of leading a group, but for your own spiritual health and your walk with Jesus.

So how do we move toward that kind of connection?

We start with the content we’re already using. Studies—like our current study on loving our neighbors—give us a starting place. But as leaders, we’re listening for more than correct answers. We’re paying attention to whether people are opening their hearts and lives to one another. Are our conversations mostly about other people in the church or frustrations at work? Or are they moving toward what Cloud and Townsend call “private, personal, and transcendent themes, which few people would regularly bring out into the light of day” (72)?

I don’t want to over-spiritualize this, but we are seeking the glory of God in our Life Groups. We are seeking to connect with Jesus Christ and to live as the body of Christ together. That means we keep returning to Scripture and asking what the body of Christ actually looks like. It looks like people in real relationships—serving one another, caring for one another, and serving those around them.

 Sometimes that means doing the strange but necessary work of talking directly about relationships within the group. Cloud and Townsend say, “Notice and address if someone is hurting and detached…Good groups spend significant time helping the members open themselves up to each other, giving validation, love, comfort, feedback, and confrontation”(73).

All of this takes time. It won’t happen overnight. But these are the things we are called—as leaders—to be praying for, watching for, and cultivating. And it starts with us: in our own lives first, and then, over time, in the lives of our Life Groups.

Reflection Questions for Life Group Leaders

1. Where do you see real heart-level connection beginning to form in your group—and where does it still feel guarded or surface-level?

2. What is one small, concrete step you could take to help create greater safety, honesty, and redemptive vulnerability in your group this season?

   
   

   *This is adapted from an email I wrote to a group of small-group leaders. Though it’s tied to a specific discussion around a book we're reading together: Cloud and Townsend's Making Small Groups Work, the principles apply widely to anyone thinking about discipleship and spiritual growth.

   
   

Churches As A Second Family

 *This is adapted from an email I wrote to a group of small-group leaders. Though it’s tied to a specific discussion around a book we're reading together: Cloud and Townsend's Making Small Groups Work, the principles apply widely to anyone thinking about discipleship and spiritual growth.

Cloud and Townsend open this chapter by saying, “An important aspect of any growth-producing group is that it provides a context for members to re-experience whatever they missed in life the first time around” (67). That line really stuck with me, because it’s something I learned when studying group therapy: groups function like families.

In pretty much any group—but especially groups that are intentionally formed for personal growth, whether in Christian or secular contexts—family dynamics show up. Someone becomes a parent figure. And when there’s a man and a woman leading, it’s kind of funny how often they end up functioning as a sort of mom and dad in the group, just by virtue of being the leaders. Group dynamics and sociological realities are fascinating—and they matter.

For our purposes at Calvary, what we need to know is this: our Life Groups become little families. The way our pastoral structures are set up is intentional—Life Groups are where people receive care, where people express their hearts, where people are working out their emotions and their spiritual lives. That means our groups have to be places where people are willing to be vulnerable, to express needs, to ask for help. But it also means that for real spiritual growth to happen, people have to trust one another.

Cloud and Townsend say that groups are meant to be places where people learn new life patterns in the Spirit (68). That doesn’t just happen. We have to cast vision. We need to cast the vision that our groups can actually help our people. We need to cast the vision that our groups are about transformation through meeting together. And we need to expect God to be at work—so we help our people expect challenge, change, and growth when they gather. As they put it, “Group is much more than connecting and being known” (68).

That means we’re not just trying to get people to show up. We’re inviting people to take risks, to emotionally enter in, to actually connect with one another. Over time, the hope is that our groups begin to bond, so that when there’s a need, a heartache, or even a gladness, the first call is to people in the group. Group is meant to become a second family, where relational experiences can be worked out in ways that bring healing.

Now, I know that can sound intimidating, because it is intimidating. And in one sense, it’s impossible. That’s why Cloud and Townsend offer this helpful caution:

“As a facilitator, you may be thinking, ‘I just want to help people support each other. This sounds like too big a deal. We don’t want anyone to feel intimidated by the prospect of doing groups.’ Always remember that as a group leader you are a facilitator of growth [not a creator of growth]. That’s God’s job. Much of the responsibility for growth rests with the members and what they are doing with the meeting” (69).

That’s freeing—but it doesn’t remove responsibility. Our role is to cast vision. We don’t do the personal work for people, but we do the work of naming what the group is becoming. And if your group hasn’t functioned this way yet, saying that out loud is going to feel awkward. It’s going to feel risky. But that’s leadership. If our Life Groups are going to help people grow spiritually, they have to be places marked by love, face-to-face presence, safety, and grace—sometimes in ways people have never experienced before.

Cloud and Townsend are right on here, and it lines up exactly with my own experience:

“Our experience is that most people who take the time, energy, commitment, and risk to formally join a group are motivated by real-life needs: to know God and others, heal hurt, reach their potential goals and dreams, repair weaknesses, develop ability, integrate lost parts of themselves, or gain control over something. Don’t be afraid of truly becoming the family they need so they can move on in life and accomplish what God has called them to be and do” (70).

Yes, that’s intimidating. But it’s also what our groups can be—and what they need to be. If people aren’t growing and changing in our groups, it’s fair to ask what we’re doing them for. Some people come because it’s “what you’re supposed to do” as a good church member—and there is truth in that. I’ve said as much. But the vision is bigger than attendance.

The hope and prayer is that God would work through our Life Groups to make us holy, because He is holy. Not just that we meet, but that we actually see Jesus more clearly together. We can’t control outcomes. We can’t control what other people do. But we can cast vision—
a vision of becoming little families who grow together in Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Reflection Questions for Life Group Leaders

1. Where does your Life Group already feel like a family—and where does it still feel guarded or surface-level?

2. What is one small, concrete way you could help cast a clearer vision for vulnerability, trust, and spiritual growth in your group this year?

Benefits of (Small) Groups That Grow

 *This is adapted from an email I wrote to a group of small-group leaders. Though it’s tied to a specific discussion around a book we're reading together: Cloud and Townsend's Making Small Groups Work, the principles apply widely to anyone thinking about discipleship and spiritual growth. 

Chapter 4 focuses on the benefits of groups that grow, and I found myself thinking a lot about how difficult—but also how necessary—this work really is.

I know it is hard to talk about our sin and what’s bothering us in front of others. Some of us are private by nature. Some of us come from cultures that say you just don’t talk about those things. And there is wisdom in knowing who to trust, and wisdom in not sharing everything with everyone.

So as small group leaders, we enter into a difficult task: encouraging our groups toward what Cloud and Townsend call “the surprising benefit [of] the possibility of being connected, heart and soul, to God and others without having to edit, pretend, or hold back” (57).

They are not saying this kind of honesty is something you practice with everyone. They are saying that everyone needs a place where they can practice it. Because when that kind of vulnerability is present, “the group experience itself changes members’ hearts in subtle ways…these benefits are honesty, integration of character, and normalizing struggle” (57).

When Cloud and Townsend talk about groups that grow, they are not talking about numerical growth. They’re talking about spiritual growth—growth in vulnerability, honesty, and maturity. In some of my doctoral work, I’ve come across Ed Stetzer’s conclusion (based on studies I don’t fully understand the mechanics of) that healthy churches tend to have members growing in what he calls redemptive vulnerability. Again, this is not telling everyone everything. But churches that cultivate truly safe spaces for vulnerability tend to be measurably healthier and often experience growth as well.

That means one of the things we need to do as small group leaders is look at each member of our group and ask: Where does this person need to grow?

Part of that involves encouraging real connections within the group. We can’t control what people do during the week, but we can cast a vision. We can clearly say that we want people talking to one another, texting one another, emailing one another, getting together with one another. That’s hard. But if small groups are going to be a real context for growth, the group has to take on something like a family role.

This is common language in both church and therapeutic settings, and I think it’s part of why the Bible consistently uses family language for the church. As Cloud and Townsend put it, “experiencing relationship in a group gives members a model to relate to their spouses, dates, families, kids, friends, and coworkers” (58). The church becomes a kind of surrogate family where healthy things can be worked out.

Now, we can’t create every experience necessary for growth—that’s God’s job. But what can we do? We can pray. We can pray for specific experiences to happen in each person’s life. And as we pray, we can become attentive—ready to respond wisely, sensitively, and prayerfully when the Holy Spirit opens doors.

At the very least, we can begin praying for each member by name. We can pray specifically for the kind of experience that might help them heal or grow. We can imagine what that experience might be and ask God to create it in and through the group. This is the essence of shepherding—and that is what small group leaders are.

And maybe, as we pray, God will also give us wisdom to know how we can help create some of those experiences within the group itself.

But all of this rests on one foundational reality: our groups must be safe places to face shame and failure.

Romans 8:1 tells us, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” If I’m honest, my experience of the Church tells me that this is always true of God—but not always true of Christians. And yet, this is exactly what our groups must aim for. As Cloud and Townsend write:

“A healthy group lets the person know there is no condemnation. Just as a good family helps a child become aware of and address her strengths and weaknesses, the group encourages all parts of its members to come out…. The point is this: we all need a place to accept, experience, and integrate all parts of ourselves in an atmosphere of love and safety. Help your group to be that place” (62).

This is not easy work. It takes real wisdom. And it takes time—because vulnerability requires trust, trust requires relationship, and relationship takes time.

But this is what small groups are for.

If we are not intentionally pursuing the growth of the members of our small groups in Christian maturity, then it’s worth asking: what on earth are we doing at all?

Grace, Truth, and Time: A Reflection on Leading Small Groups

 *This is adapted from an email I wrote to a group of small-group leaders. Though it’s tied to a specific discussion around a book we're reading together: Cloud and Townsend's Making Small Groups Work, the principles apply widely to anyone thinking about discipleship and spiritual growth. 

Grace, truth, and time.

First, time. “Helping your group take the long view.” Life Groups aren’t meant to be just a thing we do every week. They’re meant to be a time where we stop together, open up our brokenness, our wounds, our failures together, and seek grace and truth.

Grace — “unmerited favor, something brought to us, not created or produced by us.”

I suspect we have Life Groups full of very independent, self-sufficient people. How often does someone in our group really need something? Or express that need? Not just a meal when we’re sick—something needed in order to move forward in life, in order to heal.

Are our groups providing for one another?

Grace is so much more than forgiveness. It’s the gas that gets us moving in holiness, in healing, in growth. That truth alone could really change the culture of our Life Groups.

Are we asking one another, “What do you need that we can give you?”

Are we asking, “What good things can each person receive from others in the group?”

As Life Group leaders, we have to help people ask these questions. It sounds counterintuitive—almost self-centered—but if we never ask, “What do I need to be getting from others in this group?” then each group becomes a place where everyone has permission to stay the same. If no one is being asked how they need to change, how they need to grow, and if no one is specifically giving them what they need to grow, we shouldn’t be surprised when no one grows.

Truth works the same way. We need to be groups where we ask:

“What truths do the people in this group need to hear in order to move forward?”

And then we take it further:

What experience does this person need in order to own that truth?

• What experience will help them believe it?

• What experience will help them start living it?

• What experience will help them see the sin or the personal problem that’s keeping them stuck?

• What experience will help them heal from the wounds in their past?

These are the questions Life Group leaders have to ask and gently lead their groups through.

We’re bringing Jesus into our groups and asking him to heal people and give growth—in our souls and in the souls of those around us. But we also have to begin saying, “Show me where I need to change so I can be and do better. Show me the truth and where I am in relation to it.”

That’s where we’re leading our people. It’s what we’re trying to facilitate each week so that our group time really is redemptive time.

How do we turn our groups into experiences—experiences that happen over time and lead to real healing and growth?

Experiences where people receive truth and unmerited favor—not just forgiveness, but gifts given from others that move them forward in personal growth and holiness?

What are those gifts?

And what do we need in order to make the changes and do the healing that give us a taste of heaven to come?

What Are We Trying to Do as Small-Group Leaders?

*This is adapted from an email I wrote to a group of small-group leaders. Though it’s tied to a specific discussion around a book we're reading together: Cloud and Townsend's Making Small Groups Work, the principles apply widely to anyone thinking about discipleship and spiritual growth. 

Perfectionism is a form of immaturity. Not seeking excellence is also a form of immaturity. But perfectionism is probably our immaturity of choice.

What knowing the gospel does—what knowing Jesus does—is make it possible for us to pursue excellence while still being comfortable (or at least not devastated) by failure. We can fail and keep going. As Cloud and Townsend say, “We have to humble ourselves in our own growth process first and keep practicing. Not perfectly but faithfully. Remember, the Bible shows that God uses faithful people, not perfect people.”

Part of what we get to do as small-group leaders is shape the experience of the people who come to our group—point them to Jesus, point them to the Bible, pray with and for them, encourage them, and yes, even exhort them. This is patient, slow work. It’s a work of asking questions and listening. We can’t just listen forever; there is a directive part of shepherding people. If people are in error, someone’s got to say something, and while it’s often good to wait a minute and see if someone else will say it—if they won’t, we have to. But there’s also a lot of grace. We don’t have to confront everything immediately. And when we can, it’s usually best to ask questions to help people confront themselves.

We’re going to make some missteps on that journey. We’re going to not speak when we should have, or we’re going to speak when we shouldn’t have. And in all of that, we’re going to need a constant confidence that we are forgiven, that Jesus is with us, and that we’ve been called to lead these groups.

The curriculums we decide to use provide content that gives us something to do. But it’s asking questions and listening, digging in with people—that’s where change is going to happen. That’s what’s really valuable. Cloud and Townsend write, “Your program or curriculum should guide you in terms of content… But what about goals that relate to process, not content? Which transcendent goals and tasks apply to each and every group, no matter what its purpose or topic? …We’re saying that regardless of the group’s specific task, there are transcendent purposes to which you can anchor yourself—and thus accomplish good in any group.”

These goals are what I’m hoping we can be moving toward—most of all, the goal of the ministry of reconciliation: reconnecting people to God, pointing them to the Bible, and walking together in experiencing grace, acceptance, and forgiveness that leads to learning God’s ways, trusting God, and ultimately obedience. Those are our groups’ overarching goals, no matter what content we’re using.

Confession, Safety, and Becoming a Honest Community

*This is adapted from an email I wrote to my small group. Though it comes from a specific moment in our community, the principles are rooted in Scripture and apply widely. 

We talked recently about confession, and I want to encourage you to have someone you can confess sin to. Churches should be communities where sinners can be honest and safe. But often they’re not. We’re not. Maybe we don’t spend enough time together. Maybe we’re not trustworthy enough. Something is wrong with the church (not just my church — the church, which includes my church).

I’ve been hearing from multiple places that our communities don’t spend enough time together. That lack of shared life makes the sort of intimacy and trust needed for things like confessing our sin to one another really hard. I’m going to be spending time praying and thinking about that.

In the meantime, I want to encourage you: if you’re struggling with sin, confess it to another person. As I mentioned in the conversation that sparked this, I don’t get to be the best example because we don’t live in a system where it’s entirely safe for a pastor to confess his own sin to his congregation. But I do want you to know this: I do confess sin. I’ve confessed to trusted fellow pastors. I’ve confessed to a mentor outside our system. I just think it’s really important to have a confessor.

Even if you don’t feel like you can confess to someone in your immediate church community, you still need to have someone. And not just your spouse.

I had a particularly transformative experience with something called The Samson Society as a new Christian. https://www.samsonsociety.com/ It was a "Protestant ministry of confession." It was run sort of like AA, but with some tweaks to make it explicitly Christian, and it wasn't (just) about alcohol, substance abuse, or sex. It was about SIN.

I think it would be a beautiful thing if our churches became the kind of communities where sinners were safe to be honest about their sin — where we seemed so safe that people could even take the risk of confessing before relationships feel fully secure. I know that’s hard and scary, but it’s part of becoming the kind of community Jesus intends for us to be.

Then we would be the sort of community where sinners can repent, believe, and grow in grace — which is what God calls the Church to be: a hospital for sinners, not a hiding place (Luke 5:31–32).

So here’s a simple practice for the week:

Write down a sin you’re struggling with, and then dispose of it — burn it, drown it, shred it, whatever you want. This isn't good enough. You need to talk to someone. You need a confessor. But it's a start.

Then reflect on how it feels. And if you’re willing, talk with someone about the experience. And don't let confession stop there.

God’s Surprising Plan for Growth

*This is adapted from an email I originally wrote to a group of small-group leaders as a reflection on chapter 1 of Cloud and Townsend’s Making Small Groups Work. Context and roles vary from church to church, but I hope the principles here will be useful for anyone thinking about discipleship and community.

I think so many Presbyterians in particular—but really, all Christians of an intellectual bent—feel like if we just learn enough, hear enough sermons, read enough books, get enough lectures, learn enough facts, then we’ll be transformed. “It is knowing our Bible that transforms us, by the power of the Holy Spirit.” And that’s not wrong—but it’s not enough. It’s absolutely necessary and utterly insufficient. It has to be all of that and people.

I think so many people read all the grand doctrines of the Bible—about how amazing our God is (and He is!)—about the wonderful love of our incredible Savior, Jesus Christ (and it is wonderful!)—and they miss that pretty much all the commands in the Bible are about people: how to love people, how to live with people, how to be in community with people. Most of the New Testament is instructions for how to be a community. And those early churches were probably only forty people or so—maybe a hundred at most. When we talk about small groups today, we’re talking about the modern context where the truths we learn on Sundays—in preaching, in classes, wherever—get lived out together.

This is why our small groups have to be more than Bible studies. They have to be people involved in each other’s lives. They have to be led and facilitated in ways that help us really enter into life together—sharing what’s happening, influencing one another, letting God work through those connections. As Henry Cloud said, “Other people are Plan A, not Plan B.”

Many churches use small groups as a primary ministry of discipleship because we live in a commuter culture where we don’t see each other every day. Early Christians actually saw each other daily in the streets, the marketplace, the same neighborhood. We don’t. So small groups are one way we overcome that gap.

Most of the “love one another” commands in the Bible aren’t just general—they’re instructions for how Christians are to love one another within the church community, how we’re meant to build one another up (Ephesians 4:16). “Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms” (1 Peter 4:10). But that kind of work doesn’t happen in the big preaching room. It happens in spaces where people are relating personally. That’s what small groups are for: spaces where we relate, share life, and work out what we’re learning in community.

You could think of a small group as the social microcosm for living out what the Bible teaches. Small groups are the primary, biblical context for growth. The early churches didn’t need small groups—they were small groups. But in most modern churches, we’re spread out enough that small groups are the most practical way to give each other that relational context for growth.

So this is what small-group leaders are meant to lead. Our groups are meant to be places where process can happen—where change can take place. I love how the authors put it: “We don’t think it takes a PhD to do that! We think it takes some basic skills and processes found in the Bible, plus a little dose of love, a mustard seed of faith, some commitment, and an adventuresome spirit.” That’s exactly right. This is what our small groups can be, and this is what this book helps us lean into.

I’ll leave off with this thought: small groups are the context where we get to live life together with those we’re called to shepherd. It’s where we shepherd people into true life change—whatever change God wants to make in each of us—by His grace, through the power of the Holy Spirit, as He works through people, which is His Plan A for sanctification.

Small Groups Are About Process, Not Just Curriculum: Reflections for Life Group leaders (and anyone who cares about spiritual growth)

*This is adapted from an email I wrote to our Life Group leaders. It’s shaped by our context at Calvary and my role here, but I think some general principles may be helpful more broadly. This isn’t meant to be an academic article—it’s a pastoral reflection interacting with ideas from Henry Cloud and John Townsend’s Making Small Groups Work.

I’ve been reading the prologue of a small group book with our Life Group leaders Making Small Groups Work by Cloud and Townsend. A couple of lines really lodged themselves in my brain:

“There is no one right way to do small groups.”

“While leaders might have a good curriculum that guides content, they need training in the process itself.”

That second line is the one that grabbed me: the process itself.

That’s probably the main thing I want from this book—to help us think about how to set up and lead processes in our small groups so that small groups actually change lives. Learning the art of process is the thing we need. We need to learn how to lead process. We even need to get clear on what we mean by process.

Because that’s really why we’re reading this: so we can better understand how people change, how people grow, and how we, as leaders, are meant to be facilitators of that change and growth.

The Problem Isn’t Curriculum

There is absolutely no shortage of curriculum. I could write one. You could write one. There are roughly 900 bajillion already out there.

Recently our groups used The Cure, and I’ve heard from several in our congregation about how it was helpful. This coming January and February, we’ll walk through a short six-week series on loving our neighborhoods (using Placed For a Purpose).

But beyond that, I don’t want to micromanage what every group studies.

Every Life Group has its own flavor—its own mix of geography, friendships, ages, and rhythms. One group might be mostly young families; another might be a mix of empty nesters and singles; another might have people driving in from all over. And that’s exactly as it should be. Different groups will need different things.

Yes, I’ll occasionally recommend something when it seems like there’s a shared need—maybe we all need help engaging more personally, or learning to love our physical neighbors better. But I don’t want to be the official “curriculum chooser.” (This is context and role specific to Calvary. In another place with different circumstances, I might approach this differently.)

Unless our session says otherwise, my role (see above disclaimer) isn’t to control what our groups look at together. My role is to help make sure that whatever you’re doing actually changes lives. I’m trying to shepherd us into being better process facilitators.

What Life Groups Are For

If our Life Groups are just getting together for food and fellowship, we’re not really using them for what they’re intended for.

Fellowship is good. Hanging out is good. Laughing together is good.

But Life Groups are meant to be our more personal, smaller context for active, personal shepherding. And the Life Group leaders are the shepherds. Anyone willing to lead, care, love, ask good questions, and shepherd can get in on this though! You don't need to be in the formal role!

I want our groups to be active vehicles of shepherding people toward Jesus. Places where holiness is stirred up. Places where personal growth is actually happening. Places where people are slowly, steadily becoming more like Christ because they’re being known, challenged, encouraged, and loved.

And that doesn’t come mainly through content.

Content and curriculum matter. They really do. But presented on their own, they don’t transform anyone. Every teacher knows this: the hardest part isn’t the material—it’s the process.

Where the Real Power Is

So what do I mean by process?

Process is the way the content gets worked into people’s lives over time. It’s:

• The real conversations after someone shares something vulnerable.

• The small moments, when someone goes out of their way to follow up midweek.

• The prayers where people risk being honest.

• The tears that show up when something finally hits a deep place.

• The decisions made in community—to forgive, to repent, to reach out, to take a next step.

• The confessions of sin that move beyond “I struggle sometimes” to “Here’s what’s actually going on.”

• The shared laughter that builds trust so that harder things can be shared.

• To learn how people change.

• To learn how God uses community to grow His people.

• To learn how we can better lead that growth as shepherds.

That’s the stuff that actually shapes a person over time. And as Life Group leaders, we’ve been called to shepherd that process.

You’re not just “running a study.” You’re tending people. You’re helping create an environment where the Spirit can work through Scripture, conversation, and community to change hearts.

What This Book (and This Season) Is Really About

So as we go through this book together, I want us to keep this front and center:

We are here to understand and practice process.

My prayer is that this doesn’t just help us “teach good content,” but that it trains us to lead real transformation through process.

If you’re a Life Group leader, a small group leader, or just someone who cares about people being changed by Jesus—not just informed about Him—then this is the invitation:

Don’t just ask, “What are we studying?”

Start asking, “What’s our process? How are we walking with people so that this actually sinks in?”

That’s where the real work—and the real joy—is.

*ChatGPT was used in editing for formatting but not in writing this content. I was overusing em dashes long before it was made cool by AI.