Whoever decided that the word awkward should be spelled that way did an excellent job of building the definition right into the spelling. It’s a feeling most of us try to avoid, but one that helps define the difference between teaching and facilitating.
If you have ever led a small group, you know how awkward it can be. You ask what you think is a probing, open-ended, not-too-difficult question and then are met with the kind of silence that hasn’t been heard since Ben Stein asked, “Anyone? Anyone?” in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. In that moment, you panic. Was the question worded poorly? Did the participants not come prepared? I knew it—I am bad at this. Mind you, it's only been three seconds, but to you it feels eternal.
So we rescue. We fill the silence with an answer, an observation, or our own perspective, and in that moment, whether we mean to or not, we move from facilitating a spiritual conversation to becoming the teacher with the answers.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Teaching has an important place in discipleship. But when we teach simply because we can’t stand the silence, we train the group to wait for our answer instead of wrestling with Scripture, listening to one another, and paying attention to what the Holy Spirit might be doing.
But if we learn to embrace the awkwardness, the group will eventually understand that we won't rescue every pause. They are there to grow together, not simply wait for our answers. Awkwardness isn’t the goal, but learning to linger in it can keep us from taking over. So, how do we do that? Here are five ways.
1. Name the Awkwardness
After years of facilitating groups, I often say something like, “Hey, I need you to know that I love awkward silence. So, as awkward as this might feel to you right now, trust me, I am very comfortable.”
When I say that, something fascinating happens: the group opens up. Not always immediately because, well, awkward silence. But naming it takes away some of the pressure to fix the moment.
2. Let the Silence Breathe
Back in seminary, a preaching professor taught us to walk out, let the lights hit us, and count to three before saying anything. He warned that it would feel like a lifetime to us but give the congregation time to settle. He was right. Counting to three still feels like forever. And, if I am honest, I probably skip it more often than I do it.
But what I often fail to do in a sermon, I have learned to embrace in a small group. Silence can feel like failure because we assume a good leader should keep the conversation moving. But people might be thinking. Or gathering courage. Or deciding whether the group is safe enough for an honest answer. We are not trying to make people squirm; we are giving them room to participate. Remember, the silence almost always feels longer to the person leading than to everyone else.
3. Ask the Second Question
This is one of my favorite facilitator tools. Often the first question produces the easy, safe answer. We might ask an open-ended question about how prayer is going, and someone says, “Prayer has been difficult,” or “That prayer time challenged me.” The teacher in us might respond by explaining prayer or interpreting their experience. But a facilitator gets curious. So, we ask the second question:
- “What has made prayer difficult for you?”
- “What part of the experience was challenging?”
- “Can you tell us more about that?”
- “How do you think God may be inviting you to respond?”
The second question helps someone move from reporting information to reflecting on what is happening beneath the surface. But that can feel awkward for the leader too. When do I ask it, and when do I let the answer stand? Am I pushing too much too soon? Am I getting too personal? Honestly, part of that is the art of facilitating. We are not trying to press for more every time, only to recognize when another question might help someone see what God is doing. If it produces another long silence, see point two. Or maybe point four.
4. Give the Conversation Back to the Group
Sometimes we give the conversation back after asking the second question. But more often, the opportunity comes when someone asks the facilitator a question. The temptation is to answer it—especially when the person is looking directly at you, and everyone else turns to see what you will say. This is a masterful moment to pivot:
“That is a great question. What do the rest of you think?”
“Has anyone else experienced something similar?”
If every question comes back to the facilitator, the group learns that the leader’s answer is the one that matters. But when we give the question back, people begin listening to one another and taking responsibility for the conversation. Sometimes someone else in the circle says exactly what needed to be said. Maybe God wanted to use their story, not ours.
Now, this does not mean the group is leaderless. We are still responsible for protecting people, keeping the conversation grounded in Scripture, and responding when something harmful or untrue is said. But we do not have to settle every question immediately. Sometimes we let ambiguity hang in the air longer than we would like. Which, again, is awkward.
5. Trust the Holy Spirit With What Remains Unfinished
This is really the undercurrent of everything else. Transformation does not depend on us. We still prepare, pray, and guide the conversation responsibly. But there is only one Holy Spirit, and it is not me. And it is not you. Only He can bring conviction and change.
The awkwardness here is that every conversation does not get, or even need, a tidy conclusion. Someone may leave with a question they are still thinking about or a truth they need more time to sit with. And that has to be okay. As facilitators, we get to trust that God keeps working long after the small group ends.
Trusting the Holy Spirit does not excuse poor preparation. It changes why we prepare. We prepare to serve the group well, not to control every turn in the conversation or manufacture growth. We do our part, and then we trust God with the growth.
That kind of small group feels very different from a classroom. Again, that does not mean teaching is bad. It means teaching cannot do everything. Sometimes discipleship needs an explanation. Other times it needs a facilitator willing to ask a question, let the silence hang there, and trust that the Holy Spirit is still working.
The point is to help people follow Jesus together.
Even if it gets awkward.
