Missional Imagination

I was chatting to a friend the other day about how we are beginning to say ‘old people things.’ Whether complaining about the way things used to be, the price of fuel, or the size of chocolate bars, there has been a shift in how I think about the world. I still feel pretty young at heart, but as we chatted about this subject, one topic really underpins the old person vibe…Music.Music is never as good as the music we grew up with.Every generation of course has the same conversation. One person hears beauty, another just loud noise. I have a pretty weird set of musical tastes and it seems to cycle every so often, but one thing remains the same; my kids hate my music. We go on road trips and each choose songs to go on there, but my selections normally get the most eye rolls. However, since my steering wheel has the controls for the music, I can normally get two-thirds of the way through a song before having to turn it off. I try to explain the lyrics, talk to them about the guitarist and why his solos are epic, but it normally gets huffed down, and there are murmurs of my music being from “the 1900s.” Accurate I know, but somehow stinging as if I like parlour music played on wind up gramophones. There is a major issue with this though, and in the past few weeks I’ve been thinking about what this says about our world, but also how we engage with culture as Christians.You see, music is never just music to us. Music carries memories and feelings. A few weeks back we were in a clothing shop for camping wear. As my son tried on a new heavy duty jacket to prepare for the Irish summer weather, a song playing on the PA system stopped me in my tracks. It was a song by Loverboy, a Canadian rock band. Now, you might be thinking about how I knew that random song, but there is a story. When I was 11 years old, I stayed for a summer on an exchange trip with a family in Virginia in the US. The Dad of the family was a former pilot, and I got to watch Top Gun for the very first time with their family. I remember how it blew me away with the speed and the danger and, most importantly, the soundtrack. So, when I was heading home, tucked inside my luggage, was a cassette tape of the soundtrack. I played and played and played that tape until it became unusable. I knew all the lyrics, understood few of them as an 11-year old boy, but it wormed its way into my life. So when standing looking at tents, as the song “Heaven in your Eyes” wafted over the camping equipment, my kids stared at their middle aged Dad, mouthing the words to another song from the 1900s! Even my wife was a little embarrassed, and she’s known me for well over 20 years! I tried to explain, even tried to play it in the car on the way home, but they just couldn’t understand. It was then I realized the issue.We really struggle to understand other people’s music.My kids laugh at me, because nothing is ever just a song, just a movie, just an anything. I want to noodle into what it says about us, our culture, and the path it might direct us on. I went down a rabbit trail of why we like and dislike music, but also, why we struggle not only to like other people’s music, but why they would even like it themselves. It put me in mind of a comedian who talked about other people’s houses smelling like their dinner, only to realise that his own house smelled like dinner also, he’d just grown used to it. Perhaps this is the lesson then, even as I direct us to thinking about culture and contextualization. Perhaps as those called to ‘mission’ by Jesus, we have become blind (and deaf) to the soundtracks that are all around us, and are hopeful that everyone else will get on board with ours, rather than us seeking to understand theirs.Music and the Feeling of HomeThis article isn’t really about music, but in some ways it is. I’m writing an article about C.S. Lewis’ comparison of (capital N) Noise, with (capital M) Music. Noise is distracting and divisive. Music is harmony and heavenly. Our issue, it seems, is that we want to subjectively decide which is which, and ours always wins. We can even rationalize it. However, our musical tastes are attached more to our memory that the melodies themselves. I love the Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, and The Rat Pack, primarily because my grandfather loved them and played them constantly on his record player. I love Massive Attack, Portishead, Alanis Morissette, Prince and Madonna, because my uncle who we stayed with each summer played them on his futuristic CD player. These influences shaped my identity, my personality. So, when a new artist finds its way into our family playlist, I want to remind them that Bruno Mars is just a budget Prince. Or that Taylor Swift may have sold lots of albums, but she’ll never be better than peak Madonna. What I am doing is judging their music by the standards of my formation. I have mistaken familiarity for objectivity. But what has this got to do with Christianity and, in particular, mission?The Soundtrack of ChristianityI learned many of the kid’s songs at church at the same time as my own kids. I now know that Father Abraham had many sons, that Noah’s ark building was quite a lark, and that you never get kids to stand too close together on Deep and Wide, or someone is getting a slap. I’ve also never really understood modern Christian music. It all sounds very samey. As I grew in my faith, I fell in love with hymns. Really old, drudgy, organ heavy, 16th century depth. Something that had 15 verses, no choruses, and a theology that you could build your life upon. But that made me weird in certain circles, especially those younger than 70. What I came to realise was that as we grow as disciples, we’re not so much being taught how to live to be more like Christ, but to become more immersed in Christian culture. We want people to know Jesus of course, but also read the right books, have the right Bible, listen to the right Christian artists. But that quickly becomes our evangelism. Don’t listen to Nirvana, listen to Creed. Don’t listen to Counting Crows, but Casting Crowns. Don’t listen to U2, listen to… well, maybe it’s ok to listen to U2, just don’t listen to Bono! We take our cue from the culture we grow up in, as much as the music we listen to.Our expression of church, leadership style, dress, aesthetic, as well as our music, tells something about us. Again, none of those things are wrong, but they are part of our culture and memory. We inevitably want to reproduce ourselves. So when we went to Mexico we sang Hillsongs songs that were translated from English to Spanish. At a recent Irish church conference we had a Northern Irish worship team, singing songs written by Americans, as an Australian guy who lives in England was preparing to preach to Irish people. None of this is ‘wrong’, please don’t hear me say that, but are we tailoring our mission towards drawing people into ‘our music’ rather than helping them express praise in their own culture and memory? This might seem natural, but it doesn’t seem to play out with many of our instincts. It takes effort to hear and perhaps appreciate other people’s music. And therefore, to make music of our own.Hearing The Music of OthersWe’ve done a good job packaging Christianity today, with branding and culture spreading across the world. It’s not really from a specific place, but a kind of generic Western, English speaking, vague cultural expression of what we like. But if we are to truly be on mission as the people of God, from every place, to every place, then it requires us to distinguish between the Gospel and our cultural expression of our faith in Christ. It does bear repeating that this does not mean changing the Gospel, but therein lies the rub, if we see churches singing different songs or sitting in circles rather than pews, we immediately feel that they are doing something outside the bounds of orthodoxy. Missiologically thinking begins with learning what belongs to Christ, and what belongs to us.I’ve considered this a lot in the last few years. I have a friend who spends a lot of his time encouraging the church to reach ‘hard’ places. Now, as soon as I say that, we immediately think of social deprivation, or areas where the Gospel might not be welcomed without some sort of challenge. However, ‘hard’ is a relative term. For some of us, ‘hard’ might be an area or a people group who are obscenely wealthy and don’t seem to have needs. Or indeed, maybe our ‘hard’ is just people like us! But for many of us the hardest people to reach are those who don’t naturally enjoy our music. That’s the test then, whether it is culture, style, history, or whatever our most natural identity; could someone who dislikes almost everything about these still discover that Jesus is for them? If the answer is no, then perhaps we’ve relied more on our culture than we’ve proclaimed the Gospel.ConclusionThe debates over our music, as our family journeys testify to, are rarely about music. But they do reveal how deeply our lives, and instincts, are shaped by our story and formative influences. The songs that feel natural to me are those that had a hand in raising me. The same is true of our churches, we develop culture as a natural thing, as the line goes ‘it’s how things work around here.’ So, the question for us on mission, is not so much whether we have a culture, but if we can recognize our own, and indeed recognize and learn from others. Even, and perhaps more awkwardly, if we don’t really understand it. It might be that until we recognize our own culture in a critical sense that are free to communicate Christ across cultures without first expecting that people become like us. Maybe it is a bit more simple than that. Maybe it’s learning to appreciate the songs that others are singing before we ask them to sing ours. Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

A few weeks ago, our son had to go in for an MRI. We were braced for the inevitable waiting, sitting with that uneasy mixture of prayer, worry, and hope that accompanies hospital visits. When the results came back, the radiologist’s report used the phrase: “an unremarkable scan.”I confess, we laughed. They had just examined his brain, his wonderful, complicated, teenage brain, and pronounced it “unremarkable.” I turned to my wife and said, “Well, at least they didn’t say he had a remarkable brain. We’d have never heard the end of that!”But the phrase stuck with me. In medicine, “unremarkable” is good news. It means nothing abnormal, nothing to panic about. Yet in our cultural understanding, “unremarkable” is the last thing we want to be called. Who wants to live an unremarkable life? We want to stand out, leave a mark, make sure our existence gets noticed. We want to influence and be noticed. Being unremarkable feels like failure.And yet the Scriptures push us in the opposite direction. John the Baptist, perhaps the most popular preacher of his day, the fiery prophet who drew crowds and baptised multitudes, summed up his life’s mission in a sentence: “He must increase, I must decrease” (John 3:30). He understood something we often miss, that the goal of the Christian life is not to be remarkable but to make Christ remarkable.Our Addiction to Being RemarkableThe modern mantra appears simple. Be remarkable. Whether through career achievements, our social media feeds, or our personal brands (don’t roll your eyes, we all have them!), the pressure is relentless. From motivational posters in the hotel our church meets in, to influencers hawking productivity ‘hacks’, the cultural gospel is clear, your worth depends on how much you stand out. How much you rise above. Don’t be a normie!Even in church life, this disease seeps in. Pastors build platforms and reach. Worship leaders long for recording contracts. Churches market themselves as if they were tech start-ups competing for customers. Even the ordinary Christian feels the weight. Every one of us is meant to be extraordinary at parenting, evangelism, prayer, and community service. And if you’re not, then perhaps you’re not really useful to God. This is a heavy burden that we load onto ourselves. It distorts discipleship into performance and witness into self-promotion. When we crave remarkability, we begin to believe the Gospel depends on us. Whether it’s our eloquence, our charisma, or our ability to draw a crowd. But if the spotlight is always on us, how can it ever fall fully on Christ?John the Baptist: Patron Saint of the UnremarkableConsider John the Baptist, or ‘Crazy John’ if you’ve watched The Chosen. Few figures have ever generated more attention in a short span of time. People flocked to hear him. He lived with prophetic eccentricity, dressed in camel hair, and ate locusts and honey. I mean, that’s weird enough as it is! And yet, when his disciples pointed out that Jesus’ ministry was drawing larger crowds, John didn’t flinch. He didn’t rush to protect his market share, branding or attendance figures on ChurchSuite. Instead, he responded with breathtaking clarity:“A person cannot receive even one thing unless it is given him from heaven. You yourselves bear me witness, that I said, ‘I am not the Christ, but I have been sent before him.’ … He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:27–30).John knew who he was, and more importantly, who he was not. His role was never to be the light but to bear witness to the light. His voice mattered only because it carried the Word. His baptism prepared the way for the One who would baptize with fire and Spirit. In John we see a life oriented away from the self and toward the Saviour. His greatness was precisely that he did not cling to greatness. He was content to fade as Christ came into focus. That is the strange, liberating vocation of every Christian; to live in such a way that Jesus becomes more visible and we become less.Biblical DecreasingThis rhythm, leaders stepping back so that others, and ultimately God’s purposes, can flourish, runs throughout Scripture. Moses leads Israel to the edge of the Promised Land, but it is Joshua who carries them across the Jordan. David gathers resources for the Temple, but it is Solomon who builds it. Elijah anoints Elisha with a double portion, gladly handing on the prophetic mantle.The apostles understood the same principle. Paul writes of himself and Apollos: “What then is Apollos? What is Paul? Servants through whom you believed… I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth” (1 Corinthians 3:5–7). Their ministry was significant, but not ultimate. They were jars of clay carrying treasure not their own.And at the heart of it all is Christ Himself, who teaches that “the last shall be first” (Matthew 20:16), who blesses the meek (Matthew 5:5), and compares his own death to a grain of wheat falling into the ground to bear much fruit (John 12:24). The Son of God embraced decreasing, not only in his humility before the Father, but in His self-emptying unto death, that we might share his life.But if this is the model of Jesus, why do we struggle with it so much?Why Decreasing Is So HardBut let’s be honest, this is a difficult thing for us. It cuts against every instinct we have. I sketched out a few ideas on why we likely struggle so.First, decreasing feels like a threat to our identity. If I am not remarkable, then what am I? Our sense of self has become so tied to achievement and recognition that obscurity feels like erasure.Second, recognition is addictive. We crave the dopamine hit of applause, the subtle affirmation that we matter. Even in ministry, a sermon that gets a few ‘amens’, or a compliment from the person at the front can leave us secretly hungry for more.Third, weakness feels shameful. Paul writes of his thorn in the flesh (2 Corinthians 12), but most of us would rather boast of successes than admit frailties. To decrease feels like failure, not faith.And finally, the modern world has weaponized visibility. Online, irrelevance is the great fear. To go unseen is to be unheard, and to be unheard is to vanish. Our generation is less afraid of persecution than of being ignored. It’s the old adage from media, even if they are talking about you in a negative way, they are still talking about you. I used to listen to a political podcast that used every episode as a lament to the public fascination with Donald Trump. They decried the fact that everyone talked about him all the time. Meanwhile, every one of their podcast titles had his name in it, and they spent 90% of their time talking about him. Why? Because that’s how you remain visible and relevant. I often wonder if those who are deemed ‘influencers’ in the Christian world are exhausted at the need to be constantly on, constantly talking, posting on Instagram, creating content. No wonder John’s words sound alien. “He must increase, I must decrease.” Everything in us resists that downward movement.The Strange Freedom of Being UnremarkableAnd yet, there is true freedom here. To decrease is not to disappear but to be freed from illusions of grandeur. Or ‘notions’ if you are Irish! If Christ is the Saviour, then I don’t have to be. If the Spirit gives growth, then I don’t have to manufacture it. If God’s glory is what matters, then my reputation doesn’t need to carry the weight. This is liberating for ordinary Christians whose faithfulness may never make headlines. In the eyes of the world, unremarkable. In the eyes of Christ, radiant.The apostle Paul captures the paradox wonderfully, “We have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us” (2 Corinthians 4:7). The fragility of the vessel highlights the glory of the treasure. Weakness is not a liability to the Gospel but the canvas upon which God paints his power. And here’s where the MRI image comes back into my mind. In medicine, unremarkable is healthy. It means nothing diseased, nothing destructive, nothing sinister. In the kingdom of God, unremarkable can mean useful, faithful, fruitful. It means Christ can shine without competition from our ego.The doctor’s verdict,“an unremarkable scan” was precisely what we hoped to hear. Ordinary, uneventful, normal. In medical terms, unremarkable is remarkable. So too in discipleship. An unremarkable life, lived faithfully for Christ, may be the greatest gift we offer the world. For the story of the Christian life is not the story of our greatness but of Christ’s glory. One day, when we get to Heaven, the most astonishing tales may not come from those with the biggest followings or most popular platforms, but from the saints whose names history has already forgotten. Those who decreased so that Christ might increase. Those who were content to be unremarkable so that the Gospel might be remarkable.That is the paradox we must learn to embrace, when we seem to be desperate to be noticed, the most compelling witness may come from those who quietly fade into the background, so that the spotlight falls, at last, where it belongs. Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

This is an article read for my latest Substack post, "The Art of Mistranslation." Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

This is an article read of my latest Substack post... Are We Planting Churches? Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

This is an article read from my latest post... Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

In this episode, I read my latest article "Weak & Foolish". If you are enjoying these articles, you can follow my writing at: https://jonnypollockwrites.substack.com Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

In this episode, I read my latest article "Give Us Our Weekly Bread." For the recipe, please see the article on my Substack at: https://jonnypollockwrites.substack.com Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

In this podcast, I read my latest article "Getting Back to Basics" where I discuss how we can learn in our current cultural situation to better explain and translate the Gospel in our contexts. Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

In this article read, I ask the question to understand if our discipleship is making people behave more like Christians, or becoming more like Christ. Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

In this episode I read my latest article, "Discipleship & Apple Trees." I discuss how sometimes the temptation of importing and "stealing" fruit might solve some current issues, but leaves us lacking in sustainability and repeatability in our churches. Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

In this episode I read through my article on traits of ADHD in church planters. This is a person journey we are walking through, but one that have found commonality with others in ministry. Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

In this article read through, I take a look at why being average might not be a bad thing in small church ministry... Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

In this episode I read my article "Moving Beyond 'I'm Fine'" How can we develop Gospel centred community in our churches? In the article I discuss how vulnerability and honesty are the key to developing a community built on grace, and some obstacles that we put in the way of this. Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

In this article read, I look at why so many people in church ministry feel alone, and how we can find encouragement and practical help in these seasons... Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

While preaching “Christmas in May” I stumbled upon the way Luke's narrative took an "unexpected" turn. In this article read I explore Luke 2, not through angels or shepherds, but a lost twelve-year-old Jesus. This episode reflects on seasons when God seems absent, and how our disorientation might actually be divine invitation, calling us to find Him, not where we expect, but where He truly is. Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

The Leadership ObsessionAre we facing a leadership crisis or a discipleship crisis? In this article read, I explore why our obsession with developing leaders might be sidelining Jesus’ call to make disciples, and how rediscovering relational, context-rooted discipleship could hold the key to healthier churches and more sustainable leadership for the future.Resources* Maplhurs and Mancini (2021) Building Leaders: Blueprints for Developing Leadership at Every Level of Your Church* Ogden (2016) Transforming Discipleship: Making Disciples a Few at a Time* Frost & Hirsch (2011) The Faith of Leap: Embracing a Theology of Risk, Adventure & Courage Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

A few years ago, I was chatting to another church leader. Perhaps you know the type of conversation, the one where we dream about all the things we should be doing, and lament those we haven’t! The conversation turned to the development of church leadership, how do we identify, equip, and empower local leaders within their cultural contexts. We talked about our previous mission experience, and how this informs how we lead now and how we develop indigenous leadership. I had approached the question with what I believed were good assumptions - surely indigenous leaders, those born and raised within a culture, would possess the deepest understanding of their communities and would therefore be the most effective messengers of the Gospel.His response caught me entirely off guard."What makes you think," he asked, leaning forward slightly, "that indigenous leaders really know their own culture and are in the best position to understand it?"I sat there, momentarily speechless – which for me is a miracle in and of itself. The question challenged a fundamental assumption I had carried for years in my missiological thinking. It was akin to the saying that if you want to know what water is like, don't ask a fish. That those immersed in their native environment might be the least equipped to articulate it. This conversation sparked a season of reflection that eventually became what I've come to call "The Reece Witherspoon Effect" to cross-cultural mission work. Bear in mind I ‘coined’ the term in the back of a bus on winding roads in Connemara – so forgive me if it’s a bit of a wander! Now, to my knowledge, Reece Witherspoon has never published in missiological journals, but she has starred in (or at least represents in my mind) a particular genre of film that offers surprising insights into the dynamics of cultural engagement.The Reece Witherspoon EffectPicture it: Reece Witherspoon as a high-flying executive suddenly transplanted to a dusty small town in the American South. She's initially appalled by the mud staining her Jimmy Choo shoes, laments the absence of cosmopolitan cocktails, and finds herself bewildered by local customs that seem impossibly foreign. Through a series of comedic mishaps and genuine encounters something transformative occurs. She begins to see beyond her initial judgments, discovering the beauty and wisdom embedded in this community's way of life. Simultaneously, the local people begin to value the fresh perspective she brings. I think it’s the movie, Sweet Home Alabama, but I think it could be half of her movies. I await the social media pile on should I have offended Miss Witherspoon…This cinematic trope of the outsider who becomes a catalyst for mutual transformation appears across countless films and stories of course. What makes these narratives resonate so deeply with us? Perhaps because they capture something profoundly true about human connection across difference, something that speaks to the heart of missional engagement. If you are interested in this topic, Mike Cosper's thoughtful exploration of story patterns and their relationship to Gospel truth in his book, The Stories We Tel,l offers great insights into how these recurring cultural motifs often reflect deeper spiritual realities.The Outsider's AdvantageThe conventional wisdom suggests that the most effective messengers of the Gospel should be those deeply embedded within a community, individuals who speak the language fluently, understand the cultural nuances instinctively, and navigate local social dynamics with ease. This perspective makes intuitive sense. Yet as I've studied historical movements where the Gospel has taken root and flourished in new cultural contexts, I've noticed a curious pattern. Often, it is the respectful outsider who serves as the catalyst for spiritual awakening. This paradoxical dynamic explains something about the Gospel's transcendent nature and its power to bridge seemingly insurmountable cultural divides. We see this commonly in the book of Acts, in the ministry of Peter and Paul. The outsider brings their naivety to cultural engagement, almost forgiven for the blundering through social norms.The Apostle Paul in particular embodied a range of identities, a Jew educated in the rabbinic tradition, yet also a Roman citizen familiar with Hellenistic thought and culture. This unique positioning, simultaneously an insider and outsider to various communities, enabled him to function as an extraordinarily effective cross-cultural communicator of the Gospel. When Paul entered Athens in Acts 17, he demonstrated remarkable cultural sensitivity, even quoting their own poets. Yet he was unhindered by the philosophical assumptions that might have blinded a local Athenian to the radical implications of resurrection. His outsider status allowed him to see both the admirable aspects of Athenian spiritual hunger ("I see that in every way you are very religious") and the fundamental limitations of their approach.Throughout his ministry, Paul often found himself criticized from multiple directions. Sometimes being a ‘neither’ means that you tend to stand out. He was too Jewish for some Gentiles, and too accommodating to Gentiles for some Jewish believers. Yet this position, this "outsiderness," became not a liability but his greatest strength in building bridges for the Gospel.How Does This Work Today?This dynamic continues to manifest itself in contemporary mission contexts. Missionaries entering unfamiliar cultural settings often find that their outsider status, approached with appropriate humility and genuine curiosity, becomes an unexpected asset. Far from being merely an obstacle to overcome, this position of naivety creates openings for conversation that might otherwise remain closed. Of course, this should not be contrived. However, we should also not expect to read a few books, watch a few documentaries and think we understand what it means to be from that culture either!The outsider's questions can give voice to questions already present but unspoken within the community, creating space for a conversation about which cultural practices might be preserved and which might be reconsidered in light of Gospel values. We saw this so many times in Mexico. Things that are just assumed and followed along with. Yet, there were also cultures that had been adopted from the West that weren’t being questioned either. I have witnessed guys lose their body weight in sweat wearing a three-piece suit preaching outside a rural Mexican home because they were emulating the missionary that told them that this is the dress that God expects for a preacher. This is what I mean by the outsider's advantage. The freedom to ask questions that insiders might not feel permitted to raise, to see patterns that have become invisible to those immersed in them daily, and to challenge assumptions without the weight of having violated long-established social relationships.The ‘Skill’ of Naive QuestionsWhen an outsider asks, "Why do we have to do it like this?" the question often penetrates to the heart of cultural assumptions that have gone unexamined for generations. It’s the question of a child, “Why?” The response might begin with defensive justification. "This is our tradition, our way" but I have found it frequently evolves into deeper reflection. Sometimes, an honest answer eventually emerges. "We don't actually know why we do it this way anymore," or, "Many of us wish we could change this, but no one seems to want to have that conversation."These naive questions, questions that might seem impertinent coming from an insider, can break through cultural barriers to which the light of the Gospel can shine. An outsider, approaching with genuine curiosity rather than judgment, becomes a mirror in which the community can see itself more clearly, perhaps for the first time recognising both the beauty and the brokenness in their cultural practices. Yet, we also must be prepared to be corrected by culture ourselves. It used to drive me mad in Mexico, that my Pastor friend didn’t wear a watch and was almost always late for our meetings. After waiting almost an hour for him to arrive, he told me he was caught up with another person and didn’t realise the time. “Why don’t you get a watch then!?”, was my impatient reply. When he replied, “Because spending time with people is always more important than knowing the time,” I slunk back in my chair, humbled. We need to be careful that we don’t think ‘our’ way equals the right way.The Dangers of Outsider EngagementWe must acknowledge that this outsider advantage has often been distorted and abused throughout mission history. The colonial shadow looms large over much of Western mission endeavours, where the outsider's perspective was not offered as a gift but imposed as superiority. Cultural practices were dismissed not out of prophetic critique but cultural arrogance. The line between bringing fresh perspective and bringing cultural imperialism has too often been crossed. I've winced hearing Western missionaries pronounce opinions that are short hand for, "In my country, we do it the right way," without the slightest recognition of the planks in their own cultural eyes. This approach reflects not the humble questioning of the Gospel-bearer but the false confidence of a coloniser. When I witness the growth of the church in the majority world, and the limited growth of the church in Europe, maybe we are the ones who need missionaries to come to us rather than the other way around!The outsider must approach cross-cultural engagement with profound humility, recognising that God has been at work in every culture long before their arrival. The question is never whether God is present in a community but how He is already moving there and how the Gospel might speak both affirmation and transformation into that specific context. When I reflect on my own cross-cultural experiences, I'm haunted by the times I failed to discern this distinction, moments when I confused my cultural preferences with Gospel imperatives or rushed to judgment about practices I didn't fully understand. Learning to distinguish between cultural expression and Gospel truth remains one of the most challenging aspects of cross-cultural mission work.Finding the Balance: Cultural Immersion and Prophetic DistanceThe most effective cross-cultural witnesses seem to cultivate a delicate balance between immersion and distance, between being an outsider and also on the inside. I’m thinking of Hudson Taylor, Mary Slessor, and Amy Carmichael, who appear to have modelled this well. They were driven it seems, by a love for God, and a genuine love for the people they lived among. They committed themselves to deep cultural learning, studying language, participating in community life, building genuine relationships, and approached differences with curiosity rather than judgment. Yet they also maintained enough critical distance to see patterns that might have remained invisible to insiders. They were, and are, loved and a huge part of the fabric of the places they lived. I love the simplicity of the burial place of Amy Carmichael in India, with the simple headstone inscription, Amma, an endearing term meaning Mum.This balance reflects Jesus's own incarnational ministry. Christ entered fully into human experience, taking on flesh and dwelling among us. Yet He also maintained a prophetic distance that allowed Him to challenge the religious and cultural assumptions of His day. "You have heard it said... but I tell you” becomes the refrain of the One who honours tradition while calling it to greater alignment with God's purposes.Perhaps the most profound manifestation of this balance appears when outsiders and insiders partner in Gospel work, each bringing their unique perspective to the task of contextualising the unchanging message for a particular cultural soil. The outsider might notice cultural blindspots that insiders cannot see. The insider navigates complex social dynamics that remain a mystery to the newcomer. Together, they embody a more complete witness than either could offer alone.Reece Witherspoon ReconsideredReturning to my original metaphor, the "Reece Witherspoon Effect" suggests that there is something fundamentally transformative about the encounter between outsider and community when approached with mutual respect and openness. The outsider doesn't arrive with all the answers but with questions that create space for new conversations. The community doesn't passively receive but actively engages, teaching the outsider even as they reconsider their own assumptions.In the typical Reece Witherspoon film, the transformation is always mutual. She doesn't simply adapt to their ways, nor do they simply adopt hers. Instead, something new emerges from the encounter, a third way that honours the wisdom of the community while incorporating fresh insights from beyond its boundaries.Is this not a picture of what contextual Gospel witness might look like at its best? Not colonial imposition, nor uncritical adoption of all cultural elements, but a mutual transformation guided by Scripture and Spirit that leads to authentic expressions of Christian faith within each cultural context.Embracing Our Outsider StatusWhat if, instead of seeing our outsider status as primarily an obstacle to overcome in cross-cultural ministry, we recognized it as a potential gift to be stewarded wisely? What if we embraced a kind of "Reece Witherspoon missiology" that acknowledges both the limitations and the opportunities that come with entering cultural spaces as respectful outisders? This doesn't diminish the essential role of indigenous leadership in the church's mission. Indeed, the goal of all cross-cultural witness should be the empowerment of local believers who can contextualize the Gospel in ways no outsider ever could. But it does suggest that outsiders might make unique contributions precisely because of, not despite, their outsider perspective.Perhaps all of us should consider "Reece Witherspoon-ing" ourselves more intentionally, placing ourselves in contexts where we don't have all the answers, where our cultural assumptions are regularly challenged, where we must depend on the hospitality and wisdom of others. This posture of humble learning combined with fresh perspective might be more missiologically fruitful than we have previously imagined.After all, the Kingdom of God itself represents the ultimate "outsider perspective." It is ultimately a divine reality breaking into human experience, affirming what aligns with God's purposes while transforming what does not. As bearers of this Kingdom message, we are all, in some sense, meant to be both deeply engaged with our cultural contexts and not entirely at home in them. Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

Show NotesHow do we nurture curious, questioning leaders without fear? In this article read episode, I explore why curiosity is crucial for church leadership, and why questions are gifts, not threats.ResourcesJaroslav Pelikan, The Vindication of TraditionEdgar H. Schein, Organizational Culture and LeadershipPeter F. Drucker, Management Challenges for the 21st CenturyRonald A. Heifetz, Leadership Without Easy Answers Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, "The Danger of a Single Story," TED Talk, July 2009. Michael Frost, Exiles: Living Missionally in a Post-Christian CultureMargaret J. Wheatley, Leadership and the New Science Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

In this episode I give a short update about my change to the posting schedule of Missional Imagination... Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

Show Notes: Planting Churches in the Desert PlacesIn this episode, I reflect on a year spent with Remi & Aurelie Marat, a French couple gaining experience in rural Irish ministry before returning to plant a church in Chateau Thierry, France. Their time together challenged my assumptions about rural church planting, and even changed the terms I use!Instead of viewing these areas as simply “rural,” Remi offered the metaphor of the “desert” places of scarcity, testing, and surprising spiritual encounter. I explore what it means to plant churches in these overlooked, under-resourced contexts, drawing from biblical imagery, personal stories, and honest reflections on the challenges of sustainability, loneliness, cultural misunderstanding, and long-term vision.To learn more about or support the Marat family:👉 wesupportmission.org/the-marat-family Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

Episode SummaryIn this article reading, I dive into the role of preaching within modern ministry. While a well-crafted sermon holds undeniable power to inspire and convey eternal truths, I explore its limitations when it becomes the sole focus of pastoral work. Drawing from historical perspectives and addressing contemporary challenges, I examine the pressures pastors face in a performance-driven culture and the impact on both shepherds and their flocks. The article calls for a recalibration, a balanced approach to ministry that pairs preaching with pastoral care, discipleship, and community nurturing, reflecting a more holistic vision of leadership.Relevant Reading and ResourcesBooks:Preaching by Timothy KellerThe Supremacy of God in Preaching by John PiperThe Pastor: A Memoir by Eugene PetersonBrothers, We Are Not Professionals by John PiperPodcasts:The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill – Examines the pitfalls of celebrity culture in ministry.Preaching and Preachers by Jason K. Allen – Discussions on preaching with nods to wider ministry themes.The Expositors Collective – a great resource for those interested in understanding preaching.If you want to read and listen to more of my writing, follow me at https://jonnypollockwrites.substack.com Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

IntroductionOver the last 20 years of my life in ministry I have noticed a pattern that I’ve become more and more uncomfortable with. There appears a constant drive to measure what matters, or at least, what is easy to count. We see it in the careful tallying of salvations, baptisms, and churches planted at network events. Or the ‘how big is your church’ conversations at conferences. Of course, numbers are people, and so growing churches and transformed lives are an amazing indication of God’s grace. At first glance, these numbers tell a story of growth, impact, and blessing. But if we pause and reflect, we discover a tension that can undermine the very heart of mission work: when the metrics begin to shape the work rather than merely describe it.We live in societies that are fixated on measurable outputs, and so must ask ourselves an important question? Are we capturing genuine transformation, or are we simply measuring what is easiest to count? Is our ministry becoming a game of spreadsheets and performance reports where the stories are adjusted to meet donor expectations? This blog explores these questions, interrogating the ways in which numerical metrics may distort our understanding of authentic mission and church planting, and offers a path back to a storytelling culture that embraces transparency, nuance, and true transformation.The Tyranny of the SpreadsheetI imagine that this has been the case in the history of mission work, but it appears in the last 50 years the obsession with quantifiable success has become all too common. I have sat in conversations with directors and regional leaders and been asked for updates on our work. What I have noticed is that there is a desired pull toward the neat, compelling numbers that seem to prove God’s favour and the effectiveness of a ministry. To show increase and growth that can be quantified. But this drive for clarity and certainty has its dangers.Missionaries and church planters often work under immense cultural and financial pressures. Many feel compelled to produce reports laden with statistics and stories that can be easily showcased in newsletters or fundraising presentations. Here, the temptation is as seductive as it is dangerous: to exaggerate achievements, to polish stories until they shine with a veneer of success, or, worst of all, to manufacture outcomes that did not truly occur. This is not merely about misrepresentation; it is about the subtle shift from tracking progress to performing progress. Many may lament this and take a dim view of missionaries and church planters who do this. Yet, the question must be asked of us all, especially if the only support people are given is in pounds, dollars and euros. I have spoken to many people in ministry over the years who feel under pressure to ‘perform’ to show results, to give a return on investment. This may or may not be the case, but for some people, it feels like it. Or we make people feel lesser as they are subconsciously compared between radically different contexts.This reporting ‘spreadsheet’, with its columns and rows of numbers, offers the illusion of absolute truth. Every entry becomes a marker of progress, and every zero a failure. In this environment, there is little room for the messy reality of ministry. The doubts, the slow breakthroughs, the persistent struggles, all the aspects of our work that defy neat quantification, are pushed aside. We end up with a curated version of the mission story, one that highlights headline successes but sidesteps the long, often painful process of discipleship and transformation. Our mission stories become flattened under the weight of over-simplified metrics. When every nuance is forced into a data entry, the organic messiness of authentic human and spiritual transformation is lost, and we risk valuing form over substance.Counting vs. Measuring: What Are We Really Tracking?Brad Briscoe once made a compelling distinction in the realm of church growth: counting tallies activity, while measuring assesses transformation. This insight is vital if we are to reclaim an authentic narrative in ministry. You can access Brad’s book for free here (LINK)Consider the difference between simply counting the number of people who attend an event and understanding the quality of relationships that emerge from that gathering. A headcount might boast of a full house, yet it offers little insight into whether attendees experienced a sense of belonging, hope, or a deep, personal connection to Jesus. In contrast, measuring transformation means exploring the qualitative changes in people’s lives, whether long-term relationships are forged, if discipleship begins to take root, or if a person’s worldview is genuinely shifted toward a life of purpose and faith.The transformative aspects of ministry are often slow, subtle, and inherently non-linear. In fact, they are more rollercoaster than gentle stream! They don’t lend themselves to immediate, easy-to-capture metrics. Spiritual growth might be evidenced by a quiet conversation that alters a life trajectory, or a small act of compassion that gradually builds into lasting community trust. A marriage mended, or a peace that surrounds a family in sorrow as they lean on God. These moments define our true impact, yet they resist commodification into neat numbers.Reflecting on broader cultural tendencies, we can see how an overreliance on simplistic, binary evaluations often fails to capture the nuances of human experience. When we measure only what is immediately apparent, we risk missing the profound, gradual shifts that truly define transformation. Just as focusing solely on superficial outputs may mask deep, underlying changes, authentic mission work unfolds gradually, nurtured by small, deliberate acts of faith and community-building that resist easy quantification.The Seduction of the “Big Story”One of the main ways that this affects the focus of mission and church planting, is towards an irresistible allure to the “big story.” Dramatic testimonies and narratives of rapid, sweeping change capture our imagination and command attention. We are a people who thrive on stories. These stories, vivid and bold, often become the standard against which success is measured. The narrative of quick conversions and exponential growth provides a sense of momentum and divine favour that is difficult to ignore. The wilder the story, the more amazing the grace, the more ‘lost’ the person is, the more we drink it up.However, there is a profound danger in gravitating too forcefully toward these dramatic narratives. When the mission world becomes fixated on viral stories and headline-worthy events, there arises a subtle pressure to craft narratives that adhere to these expectations, even at the expense of honesty. In our eagerness to present impressive results, we risk fostering a culture where the appearance of success is valued over the slow, quiet reality of genuine transformation. We saw this in the story of Tony Anthony in Taming the Tiger, later exposed as misleading and falsification. (LINK) Oh, how we lapped up his stories, and excitedly shared them, while overlooking the ordinary acts of everyday faithfulness that others were really involved in.This issue is not confined solely to ministry of course. In various fields, there is a tendency to favour the flashy and the sensational over sustained, authentic progress. The risk is that, in pursuing the allure of the “big story,” we may end up constructing our ministry around impressions rather than the lived, enduring reality of transformation. When we choose stories for their dramatic effect rather than their truth, we compromise the integrity of our narrative and risk establishing unrealistic standards for success. The result is a growing disconnect between what is reported and what is truly experienced on the ground. The rare, electrifying moments of conversion may dominate the narrative, while the gradual, day-to-day nurturing of faith and community, the true work of the Kingdom, remains in the background, often unseen and uncelebrated.Faithfulness in the Small and UnseenScripture offers us a powerful perspective in this matter, urging us to value faithfulness over fruitfulness. Galatians 6:9 encourages perseverance in doing good, and Luke 16:10 reminds us that faithfulness in small matters serves as the foundation for greater responsibilities. The work of the Kingdom is often akin to planting a seed, a small, humble act that may go unnoticed until it eventually blossoms into something great.Consider the parable of the mustard seed in Matthew 13:31–32. Here, Jesus describes a seed that, despite its tiny size, grows into a large tree providing shelter and sustenance. Similarly, the genuine impact of ministry often starts as a small, almost imperceptible act, a quiet conversation, a shared meal, or a moment of empathetic listening that over time culminates in lives transformed by the grace of God. These are not the moments that typically make it into annual reports or promotional newsletters, yet they are the true markers of lasting change.It is tempting to dismiss these “small” moments as insignificant when placed alongside the grand narratives of rapid conversion and dramatic growth. However, the reality is that the work of building a lasting community of faith is painstakingly incremental. The subtle shifts, the daily acts of grace, and the quiet victories of personal transformation are all threads in the larger tapestry of God’s work. By focusing only on what is immediately measurable, we do a disservice to the profound and often intangible aspects of faith that define our ministry.Our collective experience teaches us that depth and authenticity rarely conform to simplistic metrics. When we allow ourselves to be consumed by numbers alone, we risk masking the quieter, yet more powerful, realities of lives being reshaped by grace, a process that often unfolds unseen and unsung in the hustle and bustle of daily ministry.Toward a Culture of Honest StorytellingWhat, then, is the way forward? In a world where metrics have become near idols, there is an urgent need to cultivate a culture of honest storytelling, one that values transparency, nuance, and humility over superficial impressiveness.Leaders and teams in ministry can take deliberate steps to foster an environment where truth is celebrated, even when it does not yield immediate, measurable gains. Here are a few practices that can help us steer toward a more authentic approach:Celebrate Slow Growth and Relational Breakthroughs: Recognise that transformation often happens in increments. Instead of fixating solely on headcounts and event attendances, focus on the deep, lasting relationships formed over time. These relationships, built on trust, empathy, and long-term discipleship, are the unseen roots that eventually yield visible fruit.Resist Exaggeration in Donor Reports: Financial and administrative pressures can drive us toward embellishment. However, there is an ethical imperative to report honestly, acknowledging both our successes and our challenges. Donors, when engaged through a transparent narrative, are often more supportive of the long-term, organic nature of ministry.Create Safe Spaces for Reporting “Failure” or Long, Quiet Seasons: Not every season in mission work is marked by dramatic breakthroughs. Often, quieter seasons are periods of intense learning and preparation. By normalizing the discussion of setbacks and slow growth, we can destigmatize these experiences and encourage a fuller, more honest exchange of stories.Embrace a Biblical View of Faithfulness: Reflect on passages such as Mark 4:26–29, which remind us that the Kingdom of God grows in mysterious and often imperceptible ways. Integrating this perspective into our narrative encourages us to focus on long-term, faithful living rather than immediate, but potentially superficial, results.There is a beautiful irony at work here. In our pursuit of perfection as measured by numbers, we risk losing sight of the authentic, messy reality of faith. By shifting our focus from what can be easily measured to what is deeply experienced, we nurture a ministry culture that values integrity over appearances. This approach not only honours the true work of the Kingdom, but it also aligns with the complex, multifaceted nature of human experience, a blend of triumphs, trials, and the unspoken moments of grace.Conclusion: Stories Worth TellingUltimately, the true measure of our mission work is not found in a tidy spreadsheet report, but in the messy, beautiful narratives of lives transformed. The pressure to impress with dramatic numbers and headline-worthy events is pervasive. Yet, in resisting that pressure, we find a radical truth: telling the truth is an act of faith. Our world is fixated on immediate results, but embracing honesty, even when it feels small or insufficient, is nothing short of revolutionary.Every ministry journey is unique. Some yield immediate, visible outcomes; others grow quietly, almost imperceptibly, in the background. Both patterns hold value when viewed through the lens of faithfulness. True success in mission and church planting is measured not by the number of baptisms or the volume of statistics, but by the enduring impact on lives changed, relationships nurtured, and the steadfast commitment to following God’s call.The challenges we face in our efforts to communicate ministry success remind us that transformation is rarely as simple as a set of tallies. It is a tapestry woven from countless small threads of care, courage, and persistence. When we resist the temptation to inflate our numbers and instead embrace the genuine heartbeat of our ministry, we honour not only the work of Christ but also the unique, humble journeys of the communities we serve.As fellow labourers in God’s mission field, let us have the courage to speak the truth in our updates, the wisdom to recognise that the deepest growth is not always visible, and the faith to trust that even the smallest act of kindness is a seed sown for a harvest beyond measure. May our narratives reflect a commitment to transparency and integrity, values that stand as a testament to the Kingdom we are called to build.At present, my Substack is free, although if you fancied buying me a coffee to keep me caffeinated and writing click the link below! Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe

In the coming months I’ll be developing this podcast talking to people who are engaging in mission, church planting and leadership development in creative ways in advancing the Church of Christ Jesus. This episode is a little intro to the podcast…and won’t take up too much of your time! Get full access to Missional Imagination at jonnypollockwrites.substack.com/subscribe