Priya Parker reframed the idea of stewardship for me. I’ve heard the idea taught for years and always in the context of money. Yet Ms. Parker wrote on stewardship in the context of how and why we meet. As a conflict resolution specialist, she is adept in creating space for people to grow, move, shift, change. Her book applies to deeply ingrained, acute tensions found on TV as well as the daily, chronic tensions of raising children.

The entire book is worth the read, yet one line struck me: "I had to operate as a representative of their future selves and actively go against what their present selves demanded” (p. 93). This wisdom goes well beyond meeting management.

My family and I have been visiting churches lately. While each church we attend is cut from the same basic theological cloth, there are innumerable variations on how these beliefs materialize. For example,

• The more liturgical churches prescribe the morning's events in great detail in written form. This is really helpful if you are fluent with the cadence and language and can follow along, yet can be overwhelming without some familiarity.

• More mainline evangelical churches opt for a looser guide, yet structured in chunks (e.g., worship, welcome, sermon) outlined on a page or two.

• The bigger, more ‘seeker-friendly’ churches assume their base does not know the cadence and guide them through everything. Each transition is described and prescribed, guiding you through the service.

One particular church we attended started small and stood to design an experience intentionally different from that of the larger organizations. This service felt like open mic at the coffee house: exposed brick walls complete with used rug on the platform on which the musician took off his shoes each time he sang. We couldn’t figure out of it was, with great sincerity, a physical reminder of a spiritual posture of entering a holy space or if he just really didn’t like his shoes.

Throughout the service, the music was honest and sincere, the teaching was insightful and genuine and yet I felt lost. After a lifetime in church across a number traditions, I uncomfortably had no idea what was happening. This particular style was birthed out of two beliefs: one healthy and one not. First, this organization designed its experiences in response to what they knew of the larger organizations. They intentionally designed it to be the antithesis of ’them.’ There’s a difference between learning from the other and thumbing your nose at them. It’s evident in design. Secondly, and more sincerely, this church designed a very ‘hands-off’ structure in an effort to create space for you to worship as needed. Songs were longer and silence was intentionally included.

They moved through the service clearly knowing what to do among themselves, yet I did not. I was finally struck dumb at the end of the service. The closing verse of the final song ended and the shoeless guitarist strummed with one hand while he waved the other declaring ‘have a good week’ as people began filing out. No altar call, no benediction, no announcements, no tithe. Just "g’bye”.

Ms. Parker gave me language for my discomfort: this organization did not usher me through their service. ’Self-service’ requires training and does not work in new environments and systems. They were concerned with my past self rather than my present self (and certainly not my future self). There was no guidance. No one eased me into the environment or helped me orient. They were friendly enough, but friendly and helpful aren’t the same. In these contexts, ‘ushering’ can mean guiding me to a seat or handing me an announcement sheet on the way in. The challenge is that it’s not enough. A table could provide the announcements, but it can’t steward my experience.

Invitations require work: provide instructions for your dinner guests on how the evening will work, take your employee to lunch on her first day, walk your grade school child to the bus before school starts.

Ushering is important to the experience, which is what people remember.