Three virtual worship leadership roles for the hybrid church

How does a hybrid ministry involve online worshippers as many return to in-person services?

This is a crucial question for today's church leader. Failing to involve online attendees creates a second-tier virtual worship experience. Those gathered face-to-face join together for liturgy, or the work of the people. Those gathered online sit and watch. There is also a practical layer to this question. The more we can involve in worship leadership, the less that pastors and church staff must manage.

We must consider, then, the ways that worship leadership might become a hybrid of online and offline.

First, virtual lectors could read the scriptures. Some congregations utilized virtual lectors during the lockdown, inviting members to record lectionary readings at home and submit them for use in the service. Some even staged recording sessions in the sanctuary, recording the reading at the pulpit on a Tuesday or Wednesday afternoon.

In a post-pandemic church, a virtual lector is one who reads from elsewhere, their lesson spliced into the service through recorded digital video, a projector, and a screen in the sanctuary. While anyone can use a smartphone to record themselves reading, a next-level usage of virtual 'lectoring' solicits readings from interesting backgrounds and locations. Reading from Genesis about care for creation? Record the reading from a lakeshore. Reading from John about the vine and the branches? Record from a garden (or wine cellar!). Creatively applied, the virtual lector role demonstrates that God is always on the move, at work in the community!

Next, present the prayers of the people with virtual presiders, alongside a digital invitation for prayer concerns. Of all worship roles that can be led by a member or congregant, presiding over the prayers of the people is the most theological significance. The prayers of the people acknowledge the lived experience of the community, handing over to God the concerns and celebrations, the joys and sorrows of our life together. Presiding over these prayers synchronously and virtually through a platform like Zoom acknowledges that the community is far more expansive than those gathered in the sanctuary.

As a next-level tactic, gather prayer requests through text messaging or even an anonymous, virtual drop-box. Prayers of the people in the sanctuary often create space for some to vocalize their prayer requests (or in many churches, stand in awkward silence). Digital apps lift up the prayers not just of those who are gathered physically and who are outgoing enough to vocalize their prayer requests. Rather, these resources share with the presider the raw and real prayer needs of the ever-expansive body of Christ.

Then, expand the voices proclaimed from the pulpit with virtual preachers. This is a method of preaching quite different from the video sermons found in megachurches. We don't need to beam-in a virtual Rick Warren! Instead, we need to provide opportunities for our faith community to articulate their lived experience of God in their lives, in the context of that week's narrative themes.

Virtual preachers can be one individual who records an entire sermon and then plays a video on Sunday. But that's not the best of use this role. In "Grace and Gigabytes," I write about the importance of collaboration in the digital age. Nothing affirms the importance of collaboration in a faith community like collaborative preaching. Invite parishioners to prayerfully consider a simple question or two about their faith experience. Encourage them to record a 30-60 second video response. Then, edit those responses together for inclusion in the sermon.

While virtual leadership roles are important, not every Sunday needs a virtual worship leader. Not every church needs to implement virtual volunteers. There are other ways of building the bridge between online and offline worship.

But opening up leadership roles to those gathered via a screen makes a strong statement: that this congregation truly welcomes all people, that God's work in the world extends far beyond the walls of the sanctuary.

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@ryanpanzer, the author of "Grace and Gigabytes," speaks regularly on hybrid ministry and the role of technology in the church. To book a workshop with Ryan, submit the form at https://www.ryanpanzer.com/speaking, or text (608) 561-1167‬ for more information.

The Advantage of Low-Tech Churches as Buildings Reopen

Blessed are the Low-Tech, when it comes to hybrid ministry. For theirs is the opportunity to be truly collaborative.

It's an exciting moment. With vaccinations now available to all American adults, it seems as though our "new normal" is closer than we may have anticipated. Churches continue to reopen their doors and create plans for hybrid ministry, a way of being church that blends the connections of the digital world with the strong community of the in-person church.

At this moment, there's a widespread perception that large, high-tech congregations with healthy media budgets are at an advantage. It seems logical that building a bridge between the online and the offline requires a skilled media production with access to Hollywood-quality studio equipment. After all, high-tech churches are the congregations that can create the "best" viewing experience: clear audio, crisp video, snappy transitions. Moreover, these congregations won't require pastors to be both preacher and video director at the same moment. Freed from multi-tasking, we imagine these leaders to be in a more advantageous position.

But if we take a critical look at why we are called to hybrid ministry, we might discover the opposite.

Hybrid ministry isn't the process of using digital technology for it's own sake. Instead, it's a calling to find a way of being church that is more inclusive and accessible. It's a summons to be more intentionally communal.

For these reasons, high-tech churches are actually at a disadvantage.

They might have the resources to create a polished and professional streaming "product," compelling enough to rival most viewing options on Netflix or HBO MAX. Indeed, who wouldn't want to watch a video with the production quality of a Joel Osteen?

Yet here's the paradox. The more polished our church services become, the more "professionalized" they are likely to be. In that sense, high-tech expressions of church are not particularly inclusive. Rather than creating a collaborative experience of Christian community, they create another piece of content for the consumption of the masses. Rather than extending an invitation into the shared work of the people, they create an unintentional buffer - between those sitting in the pews - and those watching from their couches.

For three reasons, low-tech churches, or those without vast media budgets and dedicated production staff, are at an advantage in the hybrid church.

First, low-tech churches are more likely to use Zoom as a platform for online worship. YouTube and Facebook Live may be the most common platforms for worship, but they tend to require event software integrations like OBS. A more ubiquitous tool that requires no additional software, Zoom just requires a device with a camera (an iPhone suffices) and audio input (a simple USB microphone is sufficient). Zoom creates a bridge between online and offline because it welcomes multiple voices. It's the only tool where that natively supports virtual worship leadership, that comes with the built-in ability to welcome digital lectors, prayers, cantors, and preachers. It's also the only tool where one can see the faces of all who gather online!

Low-tech churches will also have less tech equipment. Less equipment means more flexibility in configuring a worship space. A tripod-mounted iPad takes up less space than a studio soundboard with a full HD camcorder. This makes it possible to "record" the service from the front row or the middle of the sanctuary, whereas high-tech churches tend to record from the far back. Lower-tech churches thus provide a front row seat to worship, while high-budget congregations provide a seat in the back row, looking in.

Finally, lower-tech churches are more likely to rely on one of the key "low-tech" fundamentals of hybrid ministry: using inclusive language. Without professional video, they'll be more likely to greet online viewers. They'll be more likely to include their concerns in the prayers of the people, to speak directly to the online experience as part of the announcements. When it comes to creating an inclusive experience of those gathered online and offline, our words matter far more than what's on our screens. Low-tech ministries will be that much more likely to pay attention to this key aspect of inclusivity.

In recent conversations, I've heard some of those who lead small, rural and low-tech churches express a certain amount of resignation. It seems, in some cases, that they have already given up on hybrid ministry in their context.

Here's hoping they will find the strength and energy to attempt it. Here's praying that they won't squander their innate advantage.

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@ryanpanzer is the author of "Grace and Gigabytes"

Time for a change: Talking to your church about hybrid ministry

As church leaders, lay and ordained, staff and non-staff, we tend to see the value in remaining online in some form after buildings can safely and completely reopen. We've noticed the increased worship attendance that accompanies live-streamed services. We've heard from parishioners who moved away years ago but who have rejoined our faith communities virtually over the last year. And we've talked with friends who never go to church, but have tuned into our YouTube worship service for a few moments, or caught glimpses of a recent sermons on Facebook Live.

As leaders, we get it. The web is a mission field.

And with brand-new Gallup data showing that the majority of Americans are no longer members of a church, the importance of the web to the sustainability of our ministry cannot be overstated.

It's a different story in our broader church communities.

If our buildings haven't already reopened, they will soon, and we'll quickly hear from those who were burnt out of Zoom, those who were so ready to be back, who have no interest in ever again connecting with their church community online. They want to be "back," they want a return to "normal."

This creates an inevitable leadership tangle: the desire to be accessible, inclusive, and invitational in digital spaces, versus the reality of members who are burnt out on digital connection.

Getting started with hybrid ministry: A bit like climbing into a hang glider. On a cliff. Next to the ocean.

This tension isn't going to resolve itself, and it's not going to disappear anytime soon. Some will see the missional opportunity of further ministry work in digital spaces, but many will not. So before we get back into the rhythm of our analog church communities, before our time, energy, and resources are taken up by the realities of face-to-face gatherings, let's take a minute to talk with our congregations about hybrid ministry.

For starters, let's share the message widely that in the transition to safely reopning our buildings, we'll continue to prioritize digital accessibility. Not everyone is comfortable returning at the exact time, and with herd immunity still months away, there's no magic date on the calendar where we can snap back to the church we were. We'll continue to have cameras in the sanctuary and Zoom dial-ins for meetups because nobody should have to trade their comfort and safety for the right to participate in our community. As we journey towards the other side of this pandemic, let's communicate that we are making digital a highly visible and widespread priority.

By communicating that we are staying connected online during this time of transition, we set the foundation for the future of hybrid ministry: that our commitment to inclusivity is only as great as our commitment to ministry in digital spaces.

Not everyone is comfortable attending an analog church. Not everyone is available to be present in a building at a specific time. And while those of us who are temporarily-able-bodied may not experience any issues with walking into a church, let's remember that steps, sidewalks, and stained glass create physical barriers to some, spiritual and emotional barriers to others.

Some will push back. The conversation on inclusivity in the near-term and long-term won't be enough, and they won't care much about the opportunity to extend the reach of the church.

You can probably already guess who that will be within your community. They'll say things like "it's fine to be online, but I don't want to see cameras in the sanctuary. I don't want to have to join any Zoom calls. This is my church, and I want it to go back to normal. Is this really where we are going to spend our money?"

We need to talk to these individuals, and listen to their concerns. These ideas likely don't come from an opposition to hybrid ministry - but from frustration with a year of widespread sacrifice and ever-present social distancing.

Perhaps the best way to talk with and listen to these individuals is not to ask for their opinions on the use of technology in the church. We don't need to give them access to a physical suggestions box, because we don't need to give them an outlet for their complaints.

What we should do instead is to ask them to think about the future of the church. We might ask them to think about what it means that 50% of all Amercians are no longer church members, that entire Christian denominations may disappear within our lifetime.

Then, we should ask them to think about who we are called to be, and what God is calling us to do. In other words, we should ask them to reflect on our church's mission.

If we get too technical with these conversations, if we get stuck on "what we do" instead of "why we do it," we are unlikely to get anywhere. But if we invite our communities to reflect on the future of our ministry, and how we can sustain our shared sense of connection and service for another generation, we may find that we're all more willing to change than we might like to admit.

We don't need to persuade everyone, we may not need to persuade anyone. We simply need to show up for the conversation, to share that hybrid ministry matters, to facilitate a dialogue on where God is calling us next.

Because this isn't a conversation about cameras, social media, or computers. This is a conversation about our future, about whether all that is great about our church community will be available to a new generation.

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@ryanpanzer is the author of "Grace and Gigabytes."