Let the Peace of Christ Umpire Inside You | Before the Doors Open

Let the Peace of Christ Umpire Inside You | Before the Doors Open

You are at the console. You are at the camera. You are at the ProPresenter computer with the next twelve slides queued and a fluorescent yellow note from yesterday's run that says do not forget the second baptism video. This is detail work. Most of you do not get to think theologically while you do it. You think operationally. The next move. The next cue. The next song. The next slide. And that is fine. That is what the work needs from you. But Paul has a verse that meets you in detail work. And the verb in it is one of the strangest in the New Testament. That word rule in Colossians 3:15 is brabeueto in the Greek. It means to umpire. To preside. To officiate the game. The peace of Christ is supposed to be the referee inside you today. Not the in-ear mix. Not the team chat. Not the last text you got from the senior pastor. Not the criticism you remembered while you were brushing your teeth. The peace of Christ. As the official. Calling the plays inside you. That changes detail work. Because when something goes wrong this morning, and something will go wrong, the question is not whether you can fix it. The question is who is officiating inside you while you fix it. If anxiety is the umpire, every problem becomes a crisis. If the peace of Christ is the umpire, every problem becomes a small thing to handle. Because the peace already won the game. He just needs you to play it. May the peace of Christ be the umpire in your heart today, in the booth, at the console, in the slide queue, behind the camera, on the platform. May he call the plays when something goes wrong, instead of letting anxiety make the call. May you be thankful even before the problem resolves. And may the work of Christ's word, rich, dwelling, singing inside you, be louder than the next ping on your phone. Go. The room is waiting. But more importantly, Jesus is already in it. I will see you tomorrow.

BONUS: The True Story of "Amazing Grace" (John Newton)

Everyone knows the legend: a brutal slave trader has a dramatic conversion in a storm, quits the trade, and writes "Amazing Grace" as a changed man. The truth is harder, and in the end more full of grace. This is a bonus drop, the audio of my new long-form documentary on the real story of John Newton and the hymn he wrote. He went back to slaving after his conversion. He captained slave ships for years, after the storm, after "the hour I first believed." He left the trade because his health gave out, not his conscience, and he kept his money in it long after. He didn't take a public stand against slavery for about 40 years. And he wrote "Amazing Grace" at a desk in Olney for an ordinary New Year's service, not on a storm-tossed deck, and first titled it "Faith's Review and Expectation." Because grace is not a light switch. It's slow, and patient, and willing to spend a lifetime. And that changes how we lead the songs we hand our people, and how we hold the slow, unfinished parts of our own walk. Watch the full documentary with the visuals on YouTube: https://youtu.be/NiNJycHvdW4 [https://youtu.be/NiNJycHvdW4] Read the written companion: https://ryanloche.substack.com/p/you-are-not-too-slow-for-grace-to [https://ryanloche.substack.com/p/you-are-not-too-slow-for-grace-to]

The Conversation You Have Been Postponing

There is a conversation on your team you have been postponing for months. You know who it is with. You know what it is about. And every week you do not have it, you spend a small amount of energy not having it. Multiply that by the months it has been waiting, and you have been paying interest on this conversation longer than you realized. Maybe it is the team member whose skills no longer fit the team. Maybe it is the new addition who has not gelled, and you have been hoping the chemistry would come on its own. Maybe it is the long-timer whose attitude is corroding the practice without them knowing. Maybe it is the volunteer you need to release. Maybe it is the staff member you need to redirect. Whoever it is, the conversation has a name. And every Sunday you do not have it, the team feels it without being able to name it. Notice what Acts 15 does and does not say. It does not say Paul and Barnabas worked it out and continued on together. They did not. The contention grew so sharp that they separated. Two of the most important leaders in the early church, two men who had given up everything to plant churches together, could not get past a disagreement about a team member. They did not pretend it was fine. They did not blend it into a public unity that was not real. They named the gap and they went different ways. And notice what happens next. Paul takes Silas, and goes out. Barnabas takes Mark, and sails to Cyprus. Both kept doing the work. The disagreement was not the end of either ministry. There were two missions instead of one. And years later, in Paul's last letter, he writes to Timothy, get Mark and bring him with you, for he is useful to me for ministry. The young man Paul could not work with became the man Paul wanted near him at the end. Time and grace did what the moment could not. For the worship team, this passage takes pressure off two things. The first is the pressure to make every conversation result in continuity. Sometimes the kindest, most spirit-led outcome of a hard conversation is two ministries instead of one. The volunteer needs to step away. The team member needs to find a different church. The new hire needs to be released to a role that fits them. That is not failure. That is honesty about what God is doing in two different places. The second is the pressure to never need the conversation again. Mark eventually became useful to Paul. Some of the team members you release will be back. Some of them will land somewhere else and flourish. Some of them will need years to be ready. The conversation is not a verdict on the relationship. It is just the moment of telling the truth. Now hear what the conversation actually looks like, because most of us avoid it because we do not know how. Name the gap specifically. Not, this is not working. Specifically. Here is what I am seeing. Here is what the team needs. Here is the gap between them. Name the love specifically. Not, I love you, but. Specifically. Here is why you matter to me. Here is what I have valued about you. Here is what I do not want to lose. Name the path forward specifically. Here is what I am asking. Here is what comes next. Here is what support looks like. Not theoretical. Concrete. And then sit with the response. Do not rescue them from the discomfort. Do not fill the silence. Let them feel what is true. If you do all three of those things, the conversation that has been paying interest for months will cost you one hard hour. The interest stops the next day. A question to sit with today: what conversation am I paying interest on every week by not having it? Read the written version and get extra notes at ryanloche.substack.com.

The Volunteer Who Just Stopped Showing Up

The volunteer who keeps declining was the wound we named in episode two. This one is different. This is the volunteer who stopped declining. The volunteer who stopped responding. The volunteer who used to text back, sometimes within minutes, and now goes silent. You sent the schedule request. No reply. You sent a follow-up. No reply. You sent the hey, just checking in. No reply. And there is a date on the calendar somewhere where this person was at every meeting, in every group text, at every after-service coffee, and now they are not. They have not quit. They have not said anything. They have just gone quiet, and the silence is louder than the schedule. If you have led for any length of time, you know this one. Sometimes it is grief. Sometimes it is shame. Sometimes it is a job change. Sometimes it is a hurt the team handed them and never noticed. Sometimes you do not know, and you may not get to know. Look at the verb in Hebrews 10:24. Provoke. In the Greek that is paroxysmos, the root we get paroxysm from. It means to incite, to sharpen, to stir up. In Acts 15, the same word is used for a sharp disagreement between Paul and Barnabas. It is not a soft word. The writer of Hebrews picks it up and turns it. He says, provoke one another to love and good works. Stir each other up. A team that is provoking one another well looks like nudging, asking, noticing, naming, sometimes confronting, sometimes just saying I see you. A team that has lost the practice goes silent. And when somebody on it goes silent, nobody is provoked by their absence, and so nobody goes looking. For the worship team, this verse changes the question. The question is not, how do I plug this slot. We covered that in episode two. The question is, what does provoking this person toward love and good works look like right now. Sometimes it looks like a text that has nothing to do with the schedule. Hey. Have been thinking about you. No agenda. Just wanted to say I noticed. Sometimes it looks like showing up at their house with food because something is happening they did not tell you about. Sometimes it looks like asking another team member to call them, because the worship pastor is not the right voice for this conversation. Sometimes it looks like letting them know there is a place for them when they are ready, without making them prove they are ready first. And sometimes, this is harder, it looks like releasing them. Not punitively. Pastorally. We need to take you off the schedule for now so you are not carrying the weight of a yes you are not ready to give. We will keep talking. When you want to come back, come back. The release is not failure. The release is provoking by giving them permission to step out so they can come back free. There is one piece of this you need to hear, because it is hard. Some volunteers will not come back. They will go quiet, and they will stay quiet, and they will end up at another church, or no church, and you will not know why. You did the work. You provoked. They went. That is the cost of leading. Hebrews 10 does not promise that exhorting one another will bring everyone back. It promises that the body that does not exhort will lose more. A question to sit with today: who has stopped showing up that I have stopped asking about? Read the written version and get extra notes at ryanloche.substack.com.

1 Corinthians 13 Was Written to Your Worship Team

1 Corinthians 13 was not written for your wedding. It was written to the most gifted, most divided worship gathering in the New Testament. If you have ever sat through love is patient, love is kind read by a maid of honor in a string of pastel dresses, you know how this chapter sounds. We have flattened it. We have framed it in calligraphy. We have made it sentimental. It is not a sentimental chapter. It is the chapter where Paul looks straight at a worship team in chaos and tells them the gifts they are so proud of are not worth much without one specific posture. Look at where chapter 13 sits in the letter. Chapter 12 is the body, the gifts, the booth we talked about at the beginning of this season. Chapter 14 is what to do when the gathering itself becomes chaos, when people prophesy over each other, when somebody speaks in tongues without an interpreter, when the order of worship falls apart. Chapter 13 sits in between those two, and it is not a romance interlude. It is the bridge. Paul is talking to musicians. He is talking to people who prophesy. He is talking to people who speak in tongues. He is talking to people whose gifts are real and obvious and getting in the way of each other. And he reaches for an image from the stage. Sounding brass. Clanging cymbal. Those are instruments. Loud ones. He could have said, if I speak without love, I am like a tree that bears no fruit. He picks instruments. On purpose. Because the people listening to this letter are the gifted ones in the worship gathering, and he wants them to hear themselves. The skill is real, Paul says. The gift is real. The prophecy is real. The faith that moves mountains is real. Without love, all of it is noise. Now the verb. Love is patient, love is kind. That word for patient is makrothymeo. It means to suffer long. To stretch your anger out into a longer line than your provocation. To not snap when you have every right to. That is a team verb. Every single wound this season has named requires it. The volunteer who keeps declining. Makrothymeo. The musician who is better than the room. Makrothymeo. The booth that finds out last. Makrothymeo. The setlist fight that will not die. Makrothymeo. The parking lot conversation. Makrothymeo. The peacekeeping you have called peace. Makrothymeo. The pastor you wrote the story about. Makrothymeo. The comparison you cannot quit. Makrothymeo. Every move we have named in this season requires a love that suffers long. Without it, the season is just diagnosis. With it, the season is formation. Paul does not say love is a personality trait that some teams have and some teams do not. He says love is the skill that makes every other skill on the worship team mean anything. Without love, the gifted bass player is brass. Without love, the vocalist with the best range is a cymbal. Without love, the audio engineer with twenty years of experience is noise. A question to sit with today: if my team described how I treat them, would 1 Corinthians 13 come to mind? Read the written version and get extra notes at ryanloche.substack.com.