Have you ever walked into a room and immediately felt like you were interrupting something?

Maybe you entered a store to find employees huddling rather than helping. Perhaps you wandered over to a co-worker’s cubicle to chat, only to have them continually bounce their eyes from you to the spreadsheet they were working on. Or for you husbands: maybe you wandered through the living room right as your wife’s Bible study was getting to the juicy prayer requests.

We all know what it’s like to feel like an interruption.

While it’s a tiny less obvious in the church world, it’s no less real. Our behaviors – overt and covert – every week will send out tiny signals that make our guests feel like they’re an interruption:

• Little to no signage or volunteers to help them navigate a new space
• Lots of people talking to each other, but no one making space in the circle for them
• A kids team that seems caught off guard by a new child, scrambling for check-in forms and name tags
• A worship service that seems uniquely designed for the insider: if you can catch up with us: great. If not? Not our problem.

We don’t mean to do it. No church worth their lampstand ever sets out to do it. No pastor or staff member or volunteer ever wakes up on a Sunday morning, cracks their knuckles, and says, “Time to exclude these losers.”

But without intentionality, without care, without attention to detail, without a plan…we can make our guests feel like they interrupted something sacred, and if they’d just move along we could get back to business as usual.

This Sunday, see them first. Be alert. Kill your own comfort. And do it all for the sake of your guests. Make it clear they’re not an interruption, but an expectation. Let them know their presence is a gift that you’re delighted to receive.

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I am a massive fan of leadership pipelines: those intentionally-structured, progression-oriented, clearly-stated levels of growth that can make or break a volunteer’s ongoing development. A solid pipeline not only communicates that you have a plan for growth, but it allows volunteers and staff to see where they are on the pipeline, and gives them the opportunity to be equipped for increased ministry roles.

Our Guest Services leadership pipeline has four areas: our monthly Guest Services training, which is the onboarding process required for all of our volunteers, our Volunteer Headquarters, which is mostly a fellowship opportunity but occasionally serves as a time for brief training or vision-casting, and then our Guest Services Collective and High-Capacity Volunteer Cohort, both of which I’ve written about extensively before.

But in a multi-site church, a natural question emerges:

Who owns what?

Does the Central Team own the pipeline, or does the Campus Team own the pipeline?

The answer, of course, is yes.

Each level has shared ownership. Shorthand, the Central Team builds the environment, and the Campus Teams fill the environment.

Here’s a visual breakdown of how Central and Campus work together to own each level:

As you can see, there’s a handoff from level to level, with different teams taking on different responsibilities. But here’s the key: at every level, both teams own it. Both teams have to own it if it’s going to be successfully executed and actually helpful for the volunteer.

• Both the Guest Services Training and Volunteer Headquarters are concepted centrally but executed locally.
• Guest Services Collective and High-Capacity Volunteer Cohort are planned and executed centrally, but with heavy support and participation by campus directors.

The goal of our pipeline is not to give our campus directors another part time side gig, where they have to come up with all the ways to equip their people. Certainly we’d expect that they’re doing things beyond this pipeline in their context: coffee meet-ups with key leaders, a quarterly lunch with team leads, etc., but on our end, we want to build an environment that they get to fill and feel when it’s all said and done.

A leadership pipeline communicates that growth is expected, possible, and supported. In a multi-site church, clarity around ownership determines whether that pipeline becomes a catalyst for growth or a source of frustration.

header photo credit, pipeline graphic created with the assistance of AI.

Earlier this spring I announced our fall slate of One-Day Workshops: three targeted topics on three back-to-back days in October.

If you want to lock in Early Bird pricing, the time for thinking about it is over. This is not a drill.

Early Bird rates end tomorrow (Wednesday, July 15).

The 2026 lineup:

• Tuesday, October 6: Guest Services. You’ll learn how to build a thriving Guest Services ministry, create a culture of intentional hospitality, and navigate the systems and challenges surrounding first-time guests, parking, seating, and more.

• Wednesday, October 7: Guest Services 2.0. Take your hospitality beyond Sunday mornings into every layer of church life, from staff culture and hiring practices to volunteer leadership, communication, and member engagement. (Previous attendance at our Guest Services One-Day is a prerequisite for 2.0.)

• Thursday, October 8: Volunteer Culture. If you struggle with finding them, training them, keeping them, motivating them, or even firing them, you’ll discover some new ways forward as you equip the saints for the work of the ministry.

All One-Day Workshops are 8:30 a.m. – 4:00 p.m., and held at The Summit Church’s Capital Hills Campus, located in Raleigh, North Carolina.

Pricing:

• Through July 15: $99 per person, per Workshop
• Beginning July 16: $129 per person, per Workshop
• Groups of five or more receive discounted team pricing

Rates increase tomorrow, so if these Workshops have been sitting on your “I need to get around to that” list, consider this your friendly reminder.

photo credits: Austin Franks, Tally Schiro, Charlie Martin

As Monday nights go, it wasn’t all that unusual.

Merriem was at a book club. Haven and a friend were concocting some sort of DIY lotion at the kitchen table. I had finished up dishes and was just settling in to get a jump start on the following day’s schedule.

The garage door opened and Merriem walked in earlier than expected, a grin on her face:

“They’re heading to the hospital.”

We’d been on high-alert baby watch for several days. With all three daughters-in-law pregnant at the same time – two due within weeks of each other – our phones had become pocket-sized emergency broadcast systems.

So on that particular Monday, it looked like the season three premiere of the Franks Family Fun Fest was about to drop.

We each grabbed a change of clothes and a toiletry bag, hustled Haven off to her friend’s house to spend the night, texted a neighbor to ask if she could let the dog out once more before bed, and we were off.

The strawberry moon hung fat and heavy over 540 as we drove to Raleigh. If old wives’ tales and OB nurses are to be believed, that big moon meant this was not a drill. A baby was imminent, so we needed to hustle.

(I use hustle lightly. By grandchild number five, you know that there is always time for certain things. A pre-celebration Cook Out milkshake felt like one of them.)

We went straight to our son and daughter-in-law’s house, taking over for our fellow grandparents who live a bit closer. Mimi and Oma went over the plans and scenarios and contingencies, and we said our goodbyes, knowing we’d all meet up again in a few hours.

Merriem barely dozed – either due to my snoring or her obsessive checking of text updates – and finally at 2 a.m. she said “I’m going to the hospital.”

She had a specific role, her first in this new season of being a Mimi. Our daughter-in-law had invited her in to the delivery room experience, and nothing was going to keep her out of it.

I too had a role: I was the night watchman over grandchild #1 and #3, the older siblings of #5. Armed with a baby monitor and an unfamiliar pillow, I was to get them up, get them breakfast, and get them to the hospital when summoned.

At 7 a.m. my fellow granddad arrived to assist. At 7:09, the text came: about to push. We were still taking our time with yogurt bowls and sippy cups refills, but at 7:21 – twelve minutes later, mind you – another text: She’s here.

Strawberry moon, indeed.

Opa and Pops – aka Abbot and Costello – assembled the requisite Best Brother Club and Best Sister Club t-shirts. Double-checked diaper bags. Triple-checked lists. Quadruple-glanced at the sorry-can-you-grab-one-more-thing texts from our wives. We loaded the minivan with all of the grace and dexterity that two middle-aged grandfathers can manage – and made our way to the hospital.

It’s funny how roles and postures change with each additional grandchild. At the birth of the older siblings, it was all about them: when will they arrive? Who will they look like? How much longer?

And when their baby sister was born, it was still – at least for the moment – all about them: when will we get there? When do I get to see her? How much longer?

Skylar – our oldest grandchild, the eldest granddaughter, the first to call me Pops – was smitten as we knew she’d be. If allowed, she would have held her baby sister all through that day and into the night. (Later when looking at a photo on her Mimi’s phone, she said “I’m gonna hold this picture forever.” Melt me.)

Eli – our only grandson for now – is a bit too young to take it in. He was far more interested in the hospital room divider curtains, the chocolate chip cookies in the snack basket, and the basketball his baby sister had inexplicably brought with her as a gift for him.

But finally: it was my turn to meet Brenna.

Perfect, as all babies are. Bigger by weight than her siblings, but still impossibly tiny, terribly fragile, inconceivably fresh.

You barely earned your middle name, kid. I thought to myself. Fitting that the fifth in line would arrive on her schedule, in her timing. Still earlier than her due date, but later than the sibling precedence and family guesses had predicted.

I took her to the window so my ancient eyes could see this new creature in morning sunlight. Her already-closed lids tightened. She squeaked slightly. The faintest hint of a frown creased her tiny mouth.

“I think it’s time for her to eat” I heard my daughter-in-law say softly behind me. She was taking it all in: exhausted from a sleepless night, glowing as only a just-delivered mother can, but watching out for her brood of three, and the tiniest was hungry. The squeak said so.

Before I handed her over, I was reminded of my quiet time earlier that morning from Colossians 3:

Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

How fitting for a day of new life. How appropriate to help build a prayer of thanksgiving, of dedication. How desperate as a grandparent to beg God that Brenna’s life will be one of putting off and putting on:

Put off anger, wrath, malice. Put on kindness, humility, meekness.

Put off impurity, passion, evil desire. Put on patience, forgiveness, love.

Put off the cares of the world, the works of the flesh, the lure of Satan. Put on the design of the Creator, the fruit of the Spirit, the peace of Jesus.

Put off what harms you. Put on who loves you.

Welcome to the world, our little Brenna June. You are cherished. You are adored. You are loved. We can’t wait to watch you grow!

This month marks 18 years since this site went live. On July 8, 2008, I stumbled my way into the blogosphere, barely knowing what I was doing. That first page and post looked like this:

Now – at the age where this site is old enough to vote – I’m still stumbling along and know even less.

By my count, there are 2,818 posts that have gone up over the years (some of them now behind lock and key, because those were the days when “barely knowing what I was doing” was at its peak and I’m embarrassed for them to see the light of day). I am so very grateful to any of you who have counted yourself a reader, and I count you as a friend.

In 18 years, the site has had a grand total of one major overhaul, and that was back in 2014. The site you’ve come to know over the last decade or so has looked similar to this:

So as we geared up for the 18th year of existence (or America’s Semiquincentennial, whichever you prefer), I thought a new look might be in order.

I connected with my friends at Margin, a new web design group who knows a thing or two about a thing or two. They took my random hodgepodge of ideas and turned them into something that might actually be useful to you as a reader. (While this is not a Danny Recommends post, I couldn’t recommend them more highly if you want to turn your website or app idea into reality.)

What they came back with felt like they gave a T-Rex a Tesla. I’m simultaneously fascinated by it but probably don’t fully appreciate it. (But with self-driving mode, tiny T-Rex arms ain’t a problem. Win win.)

The refreshed site is built around two big ideas:

Less of a blog. More of a resource hub. I get it: blogging is extremely cutting edge for 2004. So rather than an 18 year old scrollfest of posts, the site is transforming to a true website. The articles aren’t going anywhere…they’ll still be available for searching and new ones will continue to be added.

Helping you find your next right step. As a leader, you’re busy. The Margin team has introduced more intuitive search features for key articles, recommended resources, and easy ways to ask targeted questions. 80s kids will rejoice that you get to choose your own adventure. And the kids of 80s kids – while not getting that reference – will appreciate the ability to instantly find what you need.

Here’s what’s new:

The URL: dfranks.com is now peoplearethemission.com. Your old bookmarks will still get you where you want to go, but the new landing page falls more in line with the heartbeat and history of the site. (Also, fun fact for new readers: it’s always been “dfranks.com” because “dannyfranks.com” is the site of a British DJ and founder of Rumpshakin’ Records. For what it’s worth, he’s the Danny Franks you should ask to spin tracks at your wedding.)

The layout: speaking of that resource hub, the home page becomes ground zero to pick your path. It’s gotten more than just a color refresh: one quick scan will help you figure out where you want to go next. Oh…and those dynamic video backgrounds make this thing feel like a legit site.

“I’m new” page: in a fun little nod to our first-time guest tents, the site has an I’m new page for those kicking the tires. Foundational articles, cornerstone series, and training and tools all land in one place to help outsiders become insiders.

Better articles experience: those 2,800+ posts can be a beast to navigate, but the new articles page has a dedicated search engine right at the top, along with clearer ways to filter by topic. And if you’re just here for the latest articles, well buckle up, buttercup: there’s a Latest Articles slide-out tab that’s always present on the home screen.

Better sharing experience: sharing is caring. Every single article now has easier ways for you to share it on social media, email it to your volunteers, or print it for your huddle.

Quicker access to recommended resources: 18 years of content is nothing to sneeze at, but I get more excited about connecting you to other articles, books, and gadgets that will assist you and your ministry. The resources page becomes a true one-stop shop where you can find not only my books, but other vetted and recommended books you should have on your shelf and products / companies / vendors that I personally use and recommend.

Further training: if you find the site useful, there’s more where that came from. The speaking page and training page (now known as Events) have been fully redesigned to help you chart a path towards North Carolina (if you’d like to bring your team in for our on-site training) or to your place (if you want to talk about bringing the party closer to home).

More ways to get in contact: I’m here to be helpful. The make contact page includes not only a way to email me directly, but set up a call if that’s more your speed.

Your next step:

This site has always been built on community. If you are currently a subscriber, thank you. Your new articles will continue to show up in your inbox every Tuesday and Thursday.

And if you’re not subscribing, please do so. Every single article and pathway is totally free. There’s no paywall and no Patreon, but your subscription builds the community. New articles drop in your inbox every Tuesday and Thursday morning, and those “extra” emails – also known as commercials – are ridiculously infrequent: maybe four or five per year.

Finally, I’ve always viewed this site as a gift to you, the reader. If you see it the same way, pass the gift along. Let your coworkers, ministry friends, and Amazon delivery guy know that there’s a new hub in town. Click any of the social media or email buttons above or below to let ’em know.

Most of us know that 18 years is just the beginning. Now let’s explore the world!

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250 years ago, the United States of America was born. And 18 years ago – amid much lower stakes and many fewer signatures and with nary a bottle rocket in sight – the original site of peoplearethemission.com/ was born.

So in honor of year #18 or #250, depending on your patronage and/or patriotism, something brand new is coming on Tuesday.

The purpose of today’s highly-unusual Saturday email is twofold: to give you a heads up and give us a chance to make sure all the behind-the-scenes communications are working. (Please please please let ’em be working.)

There’s nothing you need to do. If you normally receive Tuesday / Thursday emails, you’ll continue to get Tuesday / Thursday emails. But upgraded emails? Oh yes. A newly built site? You betcha. A brand new resource hub? Wait. I’ve said too much.

Happy fourth. I’ll see you on the seventh.

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This is the next installment in our ongoing “Large Church” series, which looks at guest services through the lens of the larger congregation: those with an average attendance of 800 or more. While any church can deal with these issues, they seem to especially be true of larger churches.

See the entire series here.

Let’s be clear about something right up front: to the first-time guest, every church is a large church. If a church is new to them, it’s wholly unfamiliar. Even if there are twenty people in the congregation, that’s twenty strangers they have to get to know and at least twenty sets of culture codes they have to interpret.

But for the truly large church – let’s say churches of 800 or more, as we’ve been defining it throughout this series – a first-time guest can feel absolutely paralyzed with what to do next.

I’ve found that there are at least six ways that a large church can feel immediately smaller:

1. Meet your guests outside

There is something about walking through a strange door and into a strange building that gives a first-timer the heebie jeebies. We alleviate that with a first-time guest tent that sits obnoxiously in the way of our front entrance. That signals to our guests that we’ve thought about them, planned for them, and want to help them navigate their first moments on campus…and we’ll even walk through those strange doors with them.

2. Put a first-time guest bag in their hands

Any first-time guest who stops by the tent gets a first-time guest gift. It’s not because we believe someone needs another coffee cup, it’s because that chunky bag serves as a neon sign that someone is brand-spankin’ new. I can see that bag across the lobby and make a beeline for a guest, because it fosters confidence and connection.

3. Prioritize maps over menus

Larger churches have lots of options, and we make a grave mistake when we present all options to someone, whether it’s their first visit or their fiftieth. Rather than handing over a menu, we present a curated map: this is your best next step. And all first-time guest roads lead in the direction of that next step. The clarity and simplicity is far better than complexity and confusion.

4. Follow up

I’ve made thousands of first-time guest phone calls over the years, and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard “Wow. In a church that size, I never expected to hear from anyone.” It’s a small investment on our end that communicates a great deal of care to the guest.

[Related series: First-Time Guest follow up]

5. Host a newcomers event

That “next step” I referred to in point #3 is our monthly newcomers event that we currently call Explore the Summit. It’s a high-touch, low-bar event designed to give our first timers a snapshot of who we are, where we’re going, and how they can get involved. It serves as a jumping off point for many things at our church (and yes, they get a peek at a portion of the menu), but still serves as a curated experience to answer what they want to know and what they need to know.

6. Get them plugged in

We have the stats to show that the number one indicator of connection at our church is when people are serving on a ministry team. That’s right: out of any single factor – small groups, membership, short-term trips, etc. – those who serve are those who feel connected. It’s not just about connecting people to tasks, but connecting them to other people.

You may be a mega church, a mid-sized church, or a micro church. But to someone on the outside, you will always seem bigger than you actually are. Taking any one of these six steps will almost immediately help your big, inaccessible church feel smaller.

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The corporate gathering of believers serves many purposes: it is a family reunion. A time of mutual encouragement. A moment to join voices and minds in order to proclaim the majesty of God. A regular reminder of the truth of the gospel and how it can be applied to every celebration and sorrow in our lives.

But those are the purposes for those on the inside. Believers…Christ followers…Christians gather to encourage each other, and worship, and remember the gospel. What, then, is the purpose of the corporate gathering for those who don’t yet know Jesus?

It points. 

The weekend gathering points to something greater than the weekend gathering. The welcoming inclusion of church hospitality is not an end to itself, but it points to a sweeter welcome and a greater inclusion. The observable worship of gathered believers helps unbelievers see clearly the One who is being worshiped.

This “pointing” is important, especially for those who did not grow up in the church. Especially for those who might have a broken view of the church. When we speak of church as family and God as Father, we use terminology that isn’t always received with the warm feelings that we intend. When we refer to each other as “brother” and “sister,” we risk being misunderstood by those whose relationship with their brother and sister of birth is full of toxicity.

If broken homes, broken marriages, and broken families have done anything, they have introduced a gap into our society. “Church as family” and “God as Father” carry a different weight. An incomplete meaning. A descriptor that’s accompanied by a heavy shadow.

A gap.

Each weekend, the gathered church has the opportunity to bridge that gap. We can point across the chasm of lost years and broken hearts and show them that God is a perfect Father who never leaves, never disappoints, never betrays.

As we encounter those who have been hurt by their brothers and sisters and children and spouses, we can stretch our arms out across ravines of despair and bitterness and introduce them to a new kind of community. Imperfect? Yes. Prone to sin? Yes. But a community that is slowly, certainly, intentionally walking together to create a new family. And a community that is proudly, without hesitation and with no reservation, pointing them to the one who sticks closer than a brother.

Sin creates gaps. The gospel bridges them. Broken relationships lead to hopelessness. The gospel restores real hope. 2 Corinthians 5 reminds us that not only have we been reconciled to God, but we have been given the ministry of reconciliation. We are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us.

We point.

We proclaim.

We love.

We reconcile.

We stand in the gap.

This is an updated version of a post first published in 2016.

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Q:

How would you recommend introducing a new guest services process to a church whose current model is completely different from what we learned today? What should I tackle first?

[Question submitted in a recent One-Day Workshop]

A:

This is a really good question that is somewhat difficult to answer, primarily because it’s the dead horse I’ve been beating for many years now (and I’ll link to some of those other posts at the end of this one).

But if I’m narrowing in on the heart of the question: What should I tackle first?, my answer is simple:

They have to feel it.

“They” are your staff, your volunteers, your congregation, maybe even you. If there isn’t an emotional shift from the way things are to the way things could be, you will find this to be a much bigger battle than you expected.

We see the “feel it” emotional shift all over scripture: Thomas’ revelation of the risen Jesus in John 20:28 (“My Lord and my God!”), the exclamation of the Philippian jailer in Acts 16 (“What must I do to be saved?”), and the realization of the Ethiopian eunuch in Acts 8 (“See, here is water!”), among many others.

If there is a danger here, it is that we drum up emotionalism or pound the bully pulpit in order to get people to feel what we want them to feel. Note that in the examples above, Thomas and the jailer and the eunuch came to their emotional shift by (a) the work of the Holy Spirit and (b) discovery of truth. Neither Jesus nor Silas nor Philip did any brow-beating or arm-twisting, they simply presented the evidence and let the Spirit do his work.

And it’s the same in getting an inward-focused congregation to feel the emotional shift in being outward-focused. People rarely change because they’re told to. They change when they see reality clearly:

• Is this a service where you’d be comfortable or embarrassed to invite your unchurched friends?
• Is this a church where your prodigal grandchildren would want to attend?
• Is our congregation friendly … or intentional?
• Do we actually have first-time guests? Do any of them become second-time guests?

That’s not emotionalism or arm-twisting. That’s calmly helping people to see the truth on their own. And in the process, you begin with prayer. You continue with prayer. You end with prayer. You ask the Holy Spirit to reveal what’s real and help people feel it.

As promised, some supporting articles:

• Q&A: How Do I Change an Established Culture?
• How to Change Your Culture…When It’s Not Your Job.
• The Fastest Way to Change Your Guest Services Culture
• Creating a “Whole Church” Hospitable Culture

Want to submit a question for a future Q&A post? Ask it here.

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In case you haven’t been paying attention, the world is falling apart.

Rainforests are burning down, polar bears can’t find an iceberg to stand on, and fossil fuels have gone the way of the dinosaurs.

Regardless of where you stand on climate change or whether Al Gore has solved it (shout out to the 90s kids), I think that we can agree that we’re burning through resources faster than we can replace them.

My question is, does the same challenge apply to your volunteers?

Here’s what I mean: in many of our churches, we treat vols as a renewable resource:

• We take and take, without ever considering how we might give in return
• We have a short-term view of their longevity, not always considering future health
• We ask them for more and more “yes” and rarely help them say “no”
• We focus on the task and not on the person
• We turn serving into a transaction

Many times, we assume that volunteers are renewable. Volunteers, plural? Sure they are. If you have 50 volunteers today, the chances of you having 50 volunteers two years from now is relatively high.

But are they the same 50 volunteers? Or have you allowed some to fall off the map, but because your roster stayed in the 50s, you feel pretty good about the situation?

So another question: are you helping your volunteers replenish faster than they’re consumed? Some thoughts on how you might do this:

• Make sure they have the right fit for your team
• Help them differentiate between “because I should” vs. “because it matters”
• Help them to grow spiritually
• Huddle with them regularly
• Determine whether they’re a laborer, ladder-climber, or a lifer (and lead them accordingly)
• Invest in their development
• Celebrate them well, and often, but…
• Remember that your job is not to make them happy

Don’t allow your volunteers to go the way of the dinosaurs. Don’t just keep your roster filled, keep your team healthy.

Your roster may be renewable. Your individual volunteers are not.

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