I am back in an active search for another position. It has been 20 years since I was in the call process and a lot has changed. One thing that has not changed is Presbyterians’ love of TLAs.
It is baffling when a congregational search committee uses acronyms that refer to local programs. The congregation I’m leaving, for example, offers ASAP, the After School Activities Program. It’s a great program and is accurately named, but it is not helpful to refer to it only by its initials. Likewise, local Presbyterians know that “SLAP” stands for Synod of Lakes and Prairies. (Being on the SLAP permanent judicial commission sounds like a position of real authority!)
In the search process there are only three TLAs whose meaning can be assumed: PIF (Personal Information Form, what candidates send out to churches), MIF (Ministry Information Form, the congregational equivalent of PIFs) and PNC (Pastoral Nominating Committee). All other sets of initials should be defined.
TLA stands for “Three Letter Acronyms.” Sorry, I should have defined it earlier.
As a candidate I regularly get emails from churches who have received my PIF through computer matching. If the PNC decides to pursue me as a candidate, someone will send an email like this:
Dr. Willadsen, I’m Mindy Babcock from the FPC PNC. We read your PIF and are writing to see whether you are still seeking a new call. If you are, please look at our MIF and see whether you think you would be a good fit for us.
It always feels affirming to get an email like this. I feel like Rudolph dancing around saying, “She thinks I’m cuuuuuuute! She thinks I’m cuuuuuuute!” In this case, however, Mindy got the process off to a bad start. It is safe to assume that “FPC” means First Presbyterian Church. This designation narrows the possible congregations of which Mindy is a part down to about 1,300; close to one fourth of our churches are “Firsts.” (The positive spin on this fact is that Presbyterians are essentially optimistic people. In my town there’s been a First Presbyterian Church since 1870 — we just know there will be a Second any day now.)
I find it hard to keep track of churches I have been in contact with. Mindy Babcock from FPC can easily be confused with Mandi Bradshaw, also from FPC. Search committee: Always, always, always mention your church’s community and state in all correspondence. Always. Until I have seen the members of the committee, either on a video interview or a personal visit, I find it very difficult to remember which committee members belong to which congregation.
I received an expression of interest from Big Rapids Church (community name changed to protect the irritating). I went to the Church Leadership Connection website and entered “Big Rapids.” I found a church seeking a part-time, potentially semi-retired pastor. I was stunned that the computer in Louisville would have matched me to this congregation and sent that message as an email reply. Ten minutes later I had a different thought and replied, “Which state is your church in?” Turns out “Big Rapids Presbyterian Church” is not in Big Rapids, New York; it’s in Succotash, Oklahoma. When the PNC replied to my second email, I was able to find the MIF and indicate interest.
Committees, please keep applicants posted. Tell them where you, and they, are in your process. You cannot do this too often. There is a lot of rejection in the system; candidates feel very vulnerable and exposed. Not making it through an initial stage is not personal, but even hearing that is painful. Still, it’s better to know.
I sent follow-up/check-in messages to a half dozen committees I had not heard from in three months. One replied: “When we got our first shipment of PIFs we sorted them into the ‘no pile’ and the ‘yes pile.’ Your PIF was in the middle pile.” Committees, do not do this. After thinking for about half an hour, I replied: “I find your honesty refreshing. I hope my email prodded your committee to be more considerate of future applicants.” Then, mentally, I put them in my no pile.
During the Clinton administration, when I was in my last search, I would make midnight trips to Kinko’s to make multiple copies of my PIF. I would write a cover letter and drive to the next town over to mail them from their post office. Now I can send out as many copies of my PIF as I want from the privacy of my home office, with just a few clicks. This has put a lot more PIFs in the system and increased the workload of PNCs dramatically. It costs me nothing to self-refer to every open position.
The computer that does the matching sends out PIFs in batches of 25. That’s a lot for busy, committed church leaders to wade through. It is more important than ever for candidates to have something that makes them stand out, yet the format for PIFs is pretty limiting. Word limits are rigidly enforced. There is a place to put links to material that can be accessed through the web, but they are only followed after the candidate has made the initial cut.
Since 1998, many PNCs have begun using Skype for video interviews. Skype is great in theory and lousy in reality. Remember that Skype session that went perfectly? I don’t either.
I have held up signs saying, “I can’t read lips, sorry.” I have had Skype interviews where the video worked acceptably, but we had to rely on cellphones for sound. The feedback was painful; we switched to a conference call. Sometimes the picture freezes while the sound continues uninterrupted. Still, for its many flaws, Skype is really beneficial. Just matching names to faces and faces to PNCs helps build rapport. After a Skype session I can tell Mindy from Mandi and when we meet in person, it’s as though we have already met IRL. (Sorry, “in real life.”)
I find it hard to know how to dress for a Skype interview. Dress shirt and tie? Dress shirt, no tie? Sweater? When Skype is tested, I always pretend to look for spinach in my teeth. And this thought always crosses my mind: What would happen if I said, “Greetings, PNC! I’m not wearing pants”? For the right committee this would be hysterical, for every other committee it would be memorable. But not in a good way.
I genuinely enjoy the search process. I am a strong extrovert and I think well on my feet. I don’t mind talking about myself. My answers are concise because I answer the question that has been asked. Sometimes, when I find the question is ambiguous, I’ll say, “Let me talk for a while and when I stop, if I haven’t answered your question, ask me a different way.”
I like to have each person in the interview, in any format, to tell me their name and something else. Sometimes I ask for each member’s favorite kind of soup or a dessert they never want to eat again. It helps me connect with the committee members and it pulls them onto my turf. One question that really gets people talking is “audio Prozac.” I ask each committee member to name a song that makes them happy the moment they hear its first notes on the radio. Since committees have a wide age span, there is usually a lot of variety in songs they pick. Often the members learn something about each other that they did not know. It is very unusual for someone to name a hymn; “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” simply is not as affective as “This Old Heart of Mine” (I prefer the Isley Brothers’ version, but am happy to debate that). And it’s easier for me to remember “My Girl” by the Temptations than “Bill Johnson from the board of deacons.” I might call Bill “My Girl” for the rest of the interview, which sounds creepier than it is.
When I was in my first search and interviewing with churches in small towns, I liked to ask “Where’s the nearest synagogue?” and “Where’s the nearest Chinese restaurant?” It was kinder to ask these questions than “Is there a traffic light in your community?” These questions had the added advantage of throwing the committee off balance. No one else asked those questions; I was memorable.
When Vern, the committee’s blowhard answered, “They tell me Marge whipped up some tasty stir-fry for our potluck a few meetings ago. But I don’t care much for eating Lassie,” I knew this was not the church for me. It would have taken longer to get to this red flag if I took a safer, more traditional approach with my questions.
Another feature that’s new to 21st century searches is what I call “rhetorical rejection.” In the same way that rhetorical questions do not require answers, rhetorical rejections are from churches the candidate did not know she had been matched to. There’s a unique kind of pain that an email like this causes:
Dr. Willadsen, after months of prayer, meetings and work, the FPC PNC believes the Holy Spirit has led us to the right pastor. Thank you for your interest and the committee will continue to hold you in prayer as you seek God’s will for your next position.
This email does not tell me explicitly that I am not the pastor the Holy Spirit led to them. I did not even know the Holy Spirit – through the matchmaker function of the mainframe computer in Louisville— somehow had me in the hunt. I feel like I did in high school when someone in the clarinet section told me, “This girl you don’t even know says she won’t go out with you.” Perhaps I am a better person for having experienced rhetorical rejection. Call me old fashioned, but I prefer traditional rejection.
Tom Willadsen is the author of “OMG! LOL! Faith and Laughter.” These days his nametag reads Minister of Caffeination. He lives in Oshkosh, Wisconsin.
