Calm, Confident, Non-Anxious
Sometimes the brow sweat of my anxiety outshines the kindness of my invitation
I had this simple little interaction at a church conference earlier this month that I want to tell you about. I ended up $50 poorer with a big smile on my face.
We’re sitting at dinner. Not a fancy conference dinner… more like a camp-ish retreat-y setting. Spaghetti served on trays that we took to round tables in a big wood-paneled room. Everyone is church-y. Pastors, ministers, some academics… they were all, in one way or another, associated with campus ministry.
It’s the last night of the conference. Wonderful in every way so far.
The executive director of the organization hosting the event is beloved. She does a fantastic job of representing all the stakeholders while patiently and faithfully leading the organization forward into the future. Based on what I could tell, everyone just thinks she’s the bees knees.
Anyway, we’re sitting there eating our spaghetti and garlic bread and salad bar fixins. Drinking our conference coffee.
A man stops by the table. Tall guy. His name is Rob. He was a masterful facilitator in an earlier session that I really enjoyed. And he and I had spent 20 or so minutes earlier this afternoon about his thriving ministry experiences in Illinois and the Pacific Northwest.
He calmly interrupts our table. Not with a word salad full of apologies. Not with a cowering snivel. Not with charming banter. Not with an “excuse me” or a “so sorry to interrupt.” Nope. He just arrives confidently, joyfully.
We all turn his way.
He says, “I’m leading the effort to thank Gini,” (the beloved exec I mentioned earlier). “She’s done a phenomenal job and we all agreed she needs a proper thank you. I’m taking donations. Cash is great, or here is a QR code for Venmo.”
As he hands his phone displaying the QR code to the table, he doesn’t say anything else. Just confidently, joyfully, selflessly smiles.
The whole table made a donation. In under 90 seconds he had moved on with a simple, “You all are so wonderful. She’ll appreciate this so much.”
I turned to a table-mate — a guy named Joseph who is a fundraising guru (and who was at the conference representing a large foundation). I said, “Wow. That was really good.”
Joseph responded, “Wasn’t it? That was textbook. A seamless, non-anxious ask.”
A seamless, non-anxious ask.
Pause on those sacred words for moment.
Seamless. Non-anxious. Ask.
Church growth efforts could learn a thing or two from this little interaction. Or, perhaps I should say, MY church growth efforts could learn a thing or two from this little interaction.
I’m a nervous asker.
I’m an overly polite inviter.
The brow sweat of my anxiety outshines the kindness of my invitation almost every time.
If I looked back over even the emails I’ve sent to folks inviting them to engage more deeply in the ministry I lead, I’d see evidence of my wishy-washiness. My nervous space-filling. My offering-five-options-in-case-you-don’t-like-what-I’m-really-asking-for.
I hate being rejected. So I apologize before I even start and then hedge every ask with multiple off-ramps so nobody feels bad.
I’m terrified of no.
“So sorry to bother you. Would you please consider, maybe, doing this one thing? If not, that’s ok. And if you’d rather do one of these three other things, or even nothing at all, those are all ok too. Just let me know. Or not. That’s ok too. Sorry again for bothering you.” —Me
That sounds so different than…
“Follow me.” —Jesus
I haven’t counted. But I found someone on the internet who did. And they suggest Jesus offered that calm, confident, clear, non-anxious invitation 21 times.
Follow me.
He never begs for followers. And he never couches his invitation in pleasantries or apology.
Follow me.
As I think back to Rob at the conference — his gentle approach and his calm, clear, confident, non-anxious invitation — I can’t help but imagine that’s how Jesus seemed too.
One thing I’ve learned from my friends in fundraising that I believe applies to growing a ministry or a local church: you get better at asking the more you do it.
As you consider asking someone to take the next step into their journey of spiritual community, I hope this is helpful.
I personally want to get better at asking things like…
“Will you help me create the future of BETWEEN?”
“You’d be a great local ambassador for BETWEEN. Will you serve your community in that role?”
“I hope you consider yourself a member here. You belong.”
“Your church would be a perfect companion church for BETWEEN. Will you consider it?”