Page 4545 – Christianity Today (2024)

When You’re Asked to Bury a Stranger

What to say about someone you’ve never met

As I drove to the funeral home all I knew about this man was that he was a farm hand. I wondered, “What can I say about someone I’ve never even met?”

Since that day, I have been called upon to bury several more strangers, and I’ve learned to:

1. Acknowledge the truth: “I didn’t know Mrs. Burris.” 2. Help unlock the memories of those gathered: “But you did know her.” Then lead a series of prayerful statements to draw out people’s memories:

1. Do you remember the sound of her voice on the telephone?
2. Do you remember how she looked in her wedding pictures?
3. Do you remember how she sat in her favorite chair?
4. Do you remember the way she blushed when she was embarrassed?
5. Do you remember the way she spoke your name?
6. Do you remember her standing at the kitchen sink?
7. Do you remember the feel of her hand in yours?

And so on. Try to evoke memories most common to human experience and not those that may be painful (e.g., “Do you remember how she looked when she was angry?”)

Those people who cannot remember will not be offended. Those who can may be wonderfully blessed. There is a kind of resurrection that takes place in remembering. As one Presbyterian minister said about his grandmother, “It was like she was right there, in front of me, alive and well.”

—Jim Somerville Wingate, North Carolina

6 SPIRITUAL NEEDS OF AMERICANS

What people want that churches can give

George Gallup, Jr., after decades of research, has listed the top spiritual needs of people today:

1. To believe that life is meaningful and has a purpose.
2. To have a sense of community and deeper relationships.
3. To be appreciated and respected.
4. To be listened to.
5. To feel they are growing in faith.
6. To get practical help in developing a mature faith.

—Adapted from Emerging Trends

Church Members Giving Less

A trend worth watching

Church members continue to give an ever-smaller portion of their income to their churches.

In 1995, the most recent year for which statistics are available, members gave 2.46 percent of their income to their churches. That was far below the 3.11 percent given in 1968. In fact, it was the lowest percentage in nearly three decades of such research, according to empty tomb, inc.

The silver lining, if there is one, in this cloud: Because Americans’ income has grown rapidly, total dollars given to churches is actually up, despite the lower-percentage effort.

Takeaway:

1. How closely does your church budget follow this trend?
2. What would you like members to give, and how can the congregation encourage that?

Garden-Variety Evangelism

A fresh way to reach the community

Chapel Ridge Free Methodist Church, located on eleven acres, used some of those acres to reach people in their community. Last spring the church offered eight garden plots to the community. (Some plots were reserved for church members, to encourage interaction between the members and community guests.) The church plowed the land and offered free water. A nominal fee of $20 per plot was charged to ensure commitment. With some advertising, all the plots were taken in a few days.

Four plots were taken by people in the community, and from those people, one family has started attending the church.

—Grant D’Eall Trulls Road Free Methodist Church, Courtice, Ontario

Shorter, Better Meetings

5 ways to get things done when you get together

Fellowship is a legitimate function of church meetings, so it’s important to allow time for catching up with one another. But if you’re frustrated by time being wasted in meetings:

1. Stick to three essentials. You need (a) an agenda, (b) an agreed-upon time to stop, and a clearly designated leader. If any one is absent, the meeting will probably run longer than it should.
2. Schedule shorter meetings. After an hour, every issue seems more complicated. Three one-hour meetings often accomplish far more than one three-hour meeting.
3. Consider the environment. Soft chairs and doughnuts will lengthen any meeting. If time is a concern, don’t bring food.
4. Invite only the have-to-be-theres. If you’ll need to discuss this subject one-on-one with someone, invite the person to the meeting. If people would benefit just as much from reading the notes of the meeting, spare them the ordeal.
5. Give yourself an exit. Schedule another appointment right after the meeting’s stated ending time. Explain up front you have to be someplace else at 8 P.M., and you’ll be amazed how many others say, “Me, too.”

Top 10 Church Oxymorons

Words not to use together.

You know phrases like “jumbo shrimp” and “freezer burn” are oxymorons, or contradictions in terms. But did you know these oxymorons at church:

1. Brief meeting
2. Pastor’s day off
3. Blended service
4. Denominational support
5. Early sign up
6. Clear calendar
7. Volunteer waiting list
8. Realistic budget
9. Concluding remarks
10. Confidential prayer request

Candid (Missionary) Camera

Promoting global concern in a personal way

To engage our congregation in missions work, we targeted Bolivia and asked if anyone in the congregation sensed God’s call to go. We prayerfully chose a young doctor and sent him to work with street kids in La Paz for six months.

The doctor took a digital camera and a video-telephone. Each week during the service, we secured a live link to speak to him and to see pictures of his work. Then he would lead the congregation in prayer.

This direct, weekly call allows everyone in the church to know our missionary, and members pray more fervently for his work than they would otherwise. The ensuing excitement inspired us to sponsor a Bolivian pastor for a semester’s worth of theological education and to raise money to send a team to Bolivia to build his church.

—Danny Harrell, Park Street Church, Boston, Massachusetts

Church Health

What to Do with Church-HoppersPractical guidelines when members of one church switch to another nearby

The Evangelical Ministers’ Fellowship of Southern Rhode Island has successfully used the following guidelines for ten years:

When a member from another church in the area begins to attend our church, I will:

1. Alert the other church.
2. Give that pastor the opportunity to speak first with the member.
3. Inquire about the person’s church relationship:
   1. Under what circumstances did you leave your previous church?
   2. Have you been regularly attending elsewhere?
   3. What are your reasons for attending here?
   4. Have you discussed with your pastor why you are visiting another church?
   5. May I contact your pastor?
4. If unbiblical motives are evident, explain:
   1. our respect for their church
   2. our obligation to exhort them to be responsible to their membership commitment and to seek resolution over conflicts.
5. Encourage the other church to begin discipline, if warranted, with the departed member. Valid reasons for receiving a member of another church:
   1. to unify a family (person is married to a member in this church)
   2. I have communicated with the home church, and no biblical issue warrants church discipline
   3. the person is member of a church farther away and wants to be involved in the local community
   4. the person and the former church have a difference in doctrinal convictions.

When someone from our church attends another church, I will:

1. Initiate conversation with the person.
2. Get accurate information.
3. Contact the other pastor (if he hasn’t contacted us).

if a church contacts us and we have disciplined that member, simply say, “We cannot give a good recommendation because he or she did not leave as a member in good standing.” If asked for more information, give only essential details.

Other guidelines:

1. We will not receive into membership someone who is being formally disciplined by another church.
2. A person who wants to attend a different church, without changing membership, may do so as long as a permanent resolution is addressed.
3. If someone is disciplined and removed from church membership but later is repentant, and wants to become a member of another church, that church should insist the person take care of “unfinished business” first.

—Lyle Mook Christ Church, East Greenwich, Rhode Island

We’ll pay up to $50!What ministry ideas have worked well for you and your church? if we accept your idea, we’ll pay from $25 to $50. Contact Us or write to: Leadership, Download, 465 Gundersen Drive, Carol Stream, IL 60188.

1998 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or contact us.

We had several special visitors with us the night the Vineyard Music Group recorded a live album at our church. Besides the guest musicians and visiting pastor, we had Carol, who hadn’t been able to give her heart fully in worship for more than a year. Not since the day she had been shot and her daughter killed before her eyes by a young man with a temper and a gun.

No one blamed her. Her husband had just returned from a fasting-and-prayer retreat the day his only child was killed. They had put their trust in God. God did not seem trustworthy. Still, Carol remained faithful to a God she did not understand.

The worship service was a bit unusual, as we sang each song several times. One selection, “The Lord Directs My Steps,” caught my attention because of Carol’s troubled expression the first time the worship team sang it for us:

I will trust You all the time
in any situation.
I give all my worries to You.
I know it will be just fine
no matter what You do.
I will be thankful,
so very grateful.
I will be happy I’m with You.

I looked at Carol, and I looked at the words, and I wondered if I would be able to sing them in her situation. Could I be grateful for being with Jesus when he could have rescued my daughter but did not?

The second time through the song, when it was time to join in, her eyes lowered, her head hung low, and her lips did not move.

The group began a third time, thinking they were perfecting a recording, not realizing they were helping to mend frayed faith and tattered trust. This time, Carol’s mouth moved, and tears flowed.

Worship reaches deep, dark places and opens heavy locks on broken hearts. Worship inspires tentative lips to whisper to God, “I will trust You.”

Relentlessly, we sang the testament of trust again. Carol’s eyes closed, her head lifted, and she sang. Not joyfully as some who had never tasted tragedy were singing, but resolutely.

I smiled at Carol and at God, then looked around and thought of all the disappointed believers among us. One had just retrieved his son from a psychiatric hospital. A couple singing sweetly in front of me had reunited after an adulterous affair. Another woman had experienced rejection by her family for confronting her father about abuse. Many in our congregation were forced by faith alone to proclaim, “I will trust You in any situation.”

Next time we sing a chorus “too many times,” I will remember that some are working through doubts and fears for the first few repetitions. It may take time to embrace a song in our hearts.

Linda Riley is director of Called Together Ministries in Torrance, California. In this column, she reflects on the variety of people we meet in ministry.

Lyrics from “You Direct My Steps” by Scott Underwood. 1997 Mercy/Vineyard Publishing. Lyrics appear courtesy of Vineyard Music Group. Worship opens heavy locks on broken hearts.

1998 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or contact us.

Someone has said, “Without conflict, there would be no New Testament.” Out of controversy arose revelation from God.

And without conflict, where would most denominations be?

Take the Southern Baptist Convention, whose resolution last year to boycott Disney was their most recent cause of conflict.

A Southern Baptist, Jim Henry, pastor of First Baptist Church of Orlando, was put in a particular dilemma by the resolution: his church is a five-minute ride from Walt Disney World. A recent past president of the Southern Baptist Convention, Henry explains, “Hundreds of people in our church are employed there, so the whole Orlando community was watching me.” The Sunday after the resolution passed, Henry had to address the issue from the pulpit.

From racism in the sixties to boycotts in the nineties, Jim Henry has gone through conflict and emerged still passionate about church ministry. Leadership editors David Goetz and Ed Rowell called on Henry to find out how conflict has forged his character.

Recently you were in the center of conflict over the decision to boycottDisney. How did you respond?

Jim Henry: I couldn’t come home from the Convention and act like it didn’t happen—though I wish I could have taken a sabbatical. (Laughter) I knew I was going to come to loggerheads with a lot of my brothers and sisters.I prayed about it. When I addressed the issue the Sunday after the resolution passed, I gathered all of the reasons of both sides and tried to present them fairly, because people were asking, “What do we do? How do we respond?” I presented the biblical perspective, as I saw it, and said, “Here’s where I’m standing. But you’re going to have to decide for yourselves.”

What motivates you to take a stand in a potentially explosivesituation?

I always engage conflict when the health of the church is threatened. As a pastor, I must protect the sheep.I’ve done that a few times in public, as I did following the Disney resolution.My wife calls them my “white papers”—I write what I feel the issues areand then bring my thoughts to the people: “Folks, this morning I’m goingto talk to you before I preach to you. This issue has come up, and here’sthe way I see it.”

Why do you choose “white papers” rather than some other approach to theconflict?

I have to take time to think through the issue, then walk people step bystep through how I came to my point of view.Earlier in my ministry, people were better listeners. Today, people are usedto sound bites, condensed versions, rapid-fire images. Few people are trainedin critical thinking or know how to think through the issue in its context.People feel an emotion and boom!—they form an opinion.The white papers slow things down and make sure that positions are thoughtthrough. Plus, when I present my white papers, what I actually said is capturedin print and then on tape.

When did you first encounter conflict in ministry?

Around the time James Meredith integrated Ole Miss, I was commuting backand forth to New Orleans to seminary and preaching at a small church on theweekends.At a business meeting, with just a handful of people present, a friend madea motion that the church fire me. According to parliamentary procedure, asmoderator, I had to call for a second to the motion. So I did: “Is therea second to fire me?”

You called for a second to the motion to fire you?

No one seconded the motion. There was silence.My wife was keeping the nursery. I walked in after the meeting and burstinto tears. She said, “What’s wrong?”Instead of saying “he,” I said, “They were all voting to fire me aspastor.”She said, “What did you do?”“I told them that next Saturday I am going to visit every home and ask fortheir vote. On Sunday, I’ll report to the church. If the majority say no,I’ll resign and won’t split the church.”My wife said, “Let’s just go home. Tell this church to forget it.” She wasfurious.I said, “I can’t do that. We’ll go home, but I’ll come back next weekend.”We agonized about it all week. Wednesday night a deacon called me. “Pastor,we had a meeting at church tonight. You’re still our pastor. Just come seeme before you go visiting Saturday.”Later that week, he told me that the man who had raised the motion to fireme had recruited people to remove me in a special business meeting—beforeI could do my door-to-door survey. My critic said I was a “nigger lover”;he patched together pieces of my sermons that made me look like I was outto turn our church into a black church.Some deacons heard what he was planning, and they went to see people,saying, “Please, let’s wait and hear what our pastor says.” But Wednesdaycame, and quite a crowd came ready to vote.Two or three godly deacons said, “The Baptist church has always believedthat the pulpit is a free place where you can preach the Word of God as yousee it. Our forefathers died for this right. Our pastor preaches the Bible.We move to stand with our pastor as a man who preaches the Word of God.”That was a brilliant parliamentary move. The church voted yes.

What runs through your mind when you consider entering a conflict?

That I’ll get hateful letters, volatile phone calls, that some will leavethe church. I’ve got to be geared up mentally and spiritually to accept that.Whatever stance I take, I will be misunderstood.

How do you decide when you have to enter a conflict?

I ask myself questions, such as:

1. Who else could handle this?
2. Does my information come from trusted sources?
3. Is there Scripture that addresses this situation?
4. Whom will this impact?
5. Is it right—for me? For our church?

Even after asking all these questions, I can’t say I’m always sure. But I’mlearning to discern the prodding of the Holy Spirit.

When have you acted on one of those proddings?

The church had a Christian school that went through eighth grade. We hadto make a crucial decision about starting a high school. That cost moneyand meant a commitment to parents that we’d have this school for the nextfour years.Before a critical meeting, the headmaster asked me to attend. Some peopledidn’t think we ought to have the school; others thought it was our greatestministry. There was a lot at risk. I prayed, Lord, I don’t know what weshould do. Show me.

Conflict has the marvelous effect of keeping me from becoming proud.

I came, sat, and listened. The crowd was divided. After listening to everyone,I knew the only person who could relieve the uncertainty was the pastor.I stood and said, “I’ve listened to and appreciated all the voices we’veheard. It seems to me that we should go ahead, follow through, and have ahigh school.”That meeting brought closure. Right or wrong, a decision had been made. Somepeople didn’t like it, but most rallied around it.

Have you ever waited too long to step into a controversy?

I don’t know if you ever really know if it is too late or too soon.I began to hear that a staff member had problems in his marriage. I trustedothers to check it out, and they felt the situation was being handled. Butit was never resolved. In retrospect, if I’d stepped in sooner, I think wecould have handled the situation better than we did. I think I could havelessened the hurt it caused our church.On the other hand, a pastor must rely on others for information and basedecisions on what is considered reliable.

How do you get reliable feedback?

I never allow anyone—staff, deacon, or member—to bring up a charge on hearsay:“I’ve heard this about … ”I ask, “Did you go to them to verify it as true?”The person who first hears a rumor is responsible for checking it out. Onlywhen it has been verified do I get involved.Recently a person was making accusations against people, especially staff:“He snubbed me.” “She doesn’t want me using my gifts in the choir.” “He wascold toward me and won’t return my calls.”In every case, my secretary, or whoever took the complaint, would ask ifshe had gone to the person who offended her, and she would say, “Yes, butthey refused to be reconciled.”So we went to the accused people to hear the other side. It didn’t take uslong to identify that she was the source of tension, so a small group ofchurch leaders sat with her and made it clear she could no longer make randomaccusations and expect a hearing.

When you relocated First Baptist from downtown Orlando to the suburbsin 1981, you were criticized heavily. What were the sore points forpeople?

Some just didn’t like my style of leadership. I had been here only threeyears. I’d not married enough people or led them through times of challengeand grief.Others felt we were deserting the downtown area and thus missing our mission.Others felt a personal loss. Their kids had been married there. Their parents’funerals were held there. Memories were there. But rather than grieve thelosses, some just got angry.The church leadership, though, was probably not clear enough about its motivesfor wanting to relocate.

How did you get through the crisis?

The defining moment came when we brought a recommendation to the congregationto buy twenty-four acres of land north of where we are now. We had a miserablemeeting that lasted until nearly midnight. We finally took a vote, and thechurch declined to buy the land by a slim margin. The church had alreadyvoted to relocate, so the whole project seemed to go up in smoke.I couldn’t believe some things said about the process from some of our peopleand the media. I was disappointed. A big part of me wanted to call it quits.In that failure, my only options were to quit or trust God. When I droveaway late that night, I said, “Lord, you’ve got a plan. I don’t know whatit is, but you stopped this for some reason, and I’m going to trust you forit.” I went home and went right to sleep.We started over. We found another piece of property and had more conflictbecause some who were prejudiced didn’t like that the piece of land was nextto an African-American community. Before the vote, I decided that, becauseof the conflict, the church needed more than a simple majority. I prayed,“Lord, we need at least a two-thirds majority.”We gave the congregation three options: yes, no, or “I’ll go either way thechurch votes.” We ended up with 66.66 percent voting to purchase the land.Today we’re on 150 acres and in a much better location than the originalpiece of land the church voted not to purchase.The decision to move was costly, though. In the process, we lost more than700 people.

Often conflict in church comes from conflict somewhere else.

Have you been able to develop a church culture that handles conflictredemptively?

The staff member I mentioned earlier eventually declined to talk furtherabout his marital problems and left his family for another woman. What madethis situation particularly painful for me was at that time, I was alsocounseling a couple who was going through marital difficulty. I found outthat this staff person was the reason for this couple’s trouble—he was involvedwith the wife.At that point, we had to decide how to deal with the pain publicly. We couldn’tafford for anyone to think staff members are held to a different standardthan anyone else. We had ordained him and felt we had to publicly revokehis ordination. We needed to send a message that the love of Christ compelsus to hold one another accountable, that conflict will be dealt with, thatsin will not be allowed to cripple our fellowship.But even while handling conflict aggressively, I try never to send anybodyaway without saying, “The door’s always open.”Within the last few months, a man called who had been a deacon. He had spokenharshly about our relocation in 1981, and he and his family left our churchin the process. When he called, he said, “Do you remember me?”I said, “Yes I do.”His health is now poor. He reminded me of the things he had done and said,then added, “I had a bad attitude. I called you to say two things. First,I was wrong. What you did was the right thing to do. Second, would you forgiveme?”I was emotional. “Of course,” I said.

In the midst of conflict, how do you keep from becoming obsessed aboutpersonal criticism?

My secretary screens all letters, so I never see the anonymous hate mail.That keeps me from worrying about many things I can’t do much about.But when our church relocated, the conflict surrounding that process resultedin my wife receiving anonymous letters attacking her character. That washard to understand; she’s not the kind of person who stands up on the churchfloor and speaks her mind. A friend said, “If the Devil can’t get to you,he’ll try to get to someone close to you to get to you.”We threw the letters away, and, honestly, today I can’t remember what theysaid. The Lord has helped me selectively forget things. My quiet times withhim have helped me not grow bitter, to fight the urge to retaliate, and totrust him.

Given all the conflict you’ve endured, how have you kept your enthusiasmfor God’s work?

I recognize that often conflict in church comes from conflict somewhere else,either currently or way back. The church or the pastor merely becomes thelightning rod for it. I try to understand why my critic is upset. But I toohave to be willing to say, “I was wrong.”When I’ve taken an ugly shot, inevitably the Lord will send an encouragingphone call or letter. In Nashville, I took a stand on a moral issue and wasthreatened with a lawsuit because I had spoken up in a city council meetingabout it. They threatened me with defamation. Was I scared!Right after that, a guy whom I barely knew came to see me at the church.He said, “Pastor, I just came in to pray for you today. You mind if I dothat?”So we knelt, and he put his arm around me. He prayed, “The Lord says ‘a thousandshall fall at your side and ten thousand at your right hand. They will notcome near you.’ Thank you, Lord.”There was no way he could have known what was going on. He walked out, saying,“Whatever happens, it’s going to be okay.” And it was. That’s how God ministersto his children.Conflict has the marvelous effect of keeping me from becoming proud, thinkingI don’t need God. I’m reminded in these situations where my strength comesfrom—Jehovah Jireh.

1998 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or contact us.

When I seemed to be getting nowhere in [one spiritual] battle, I finally cried out in desperation, “Lord, what and how am I to pray for my enemies? Those beloved ones who slander me and the work you’ve given me to do?”

Several days later, as I was praying, [God gave me a blueprint for prayer in this situation.] It contains sound principles that everybody seems to need once the battle is joined:

1. Pray that the eyes of all who surround these persons be opened to see the situation as it really is.
2. Pray that their associates will be given ways to speak truth and light into the situation.In these first two steps, we are praying for godly illumination and wisdom for the persons who can minister truth and peace into the situation, while at the same time we are praying for their safety We are asking that these stable people be spared from getting caught up in the dark net of spiritual confusion and deception—a very present danger in spiritual warfare—and that they be enabled to aid others who are ensnared.As I meditated on these first two ways of prayer, the Lord greatly ministered the story of David and Goliath to me, this truth from 1 Samuel 17:47 in particular: “… it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord’s.”I then asked, “Jesus, what is the smooth stone, slung at your command, that will stop the Goliaths of envy, slander, murderous hate—all that is the enemy of your cross, your message?”And immediately I heard in my spirit, “Truth, truth will out—it will hit the mark.”Then the following instruction is what caused us to name this way of interceding the “paint-the-dragon-red” prayer:
3. Pray that any demonic power within these persons or within these situations manifest itself— that it may be clearly discerned and seen by all the people.C. S. Lewis has rightly said that “Love is something more stern and splendid than mere kindness.” This is terribly hard on the “beloved enemy,” but it is the only way he will be healed. In answer to this prayer, God causes the real enemy of all our souls to be revealed for all to see.There will, of course, always be some unwilling to see and repent. They blind themselves by continuing to rationalize their sin.When this happens, we invoke and practice the Presence of God and find that, “Wherever Jesus is, the storms of life become a calm.” We find also that he is doing a work within ourselves that could never have been done apart from the disciplines learned through sustained spiritual warfare.After this third point, the Lord quickened 1 Samuel 14:15 to me. I saw that Jonathan and his armor-bearer, only two men, put the entire Philistine army to flight as they fought for God’s people. They stepped out in faith, speaking the word of truth, and the Lord worked with them: “Then panic struck the whole army … and the ground shook. It was a panic sent by God.”There is an illusory nature to evil. It attempts to win through bluff—through puffing itself up to horrendous size. One word of truth, spoken in the power of the Holy Spirit, solid as a rock and splendid as eternity, flies swift as the surest arrow to puncture evil’s swelled balloon of lies, posturing, and bravado.The fourth step the Lord gave in this “paint-the-dragon-red” prayer is ever so important. It underlines the fact that our battle is against sin and not against the sinner:
4. Ask that what can be salvaged (in this situation and in the lives of your enemies) be saved, humbled, blessed by the Spirit of God.With this, I wrote out these instructions from the Lord:“Pray for the health, the wholeness, of your enemies. Pray for the salvaging of all that is good, beautiful, and true within them. I do a great work, one that will amaze you.“Be at rest now from all that besets, offends, attacks—love, write, pray, live in peace in my presence. Enter the timelessness of my joy and peace.”That our God is faithful to hear and answer all prayer, including these prayers, is something I want to shout from the housetop. With the prophet Micah, I was given the grace to say: “But as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord, I wait for God my Savior; my God will hear me” (Micah 7:7).And he did. If we are obedient and stand in him, our God has an incredible way of turning out battle wounds into healing power for others.

Leanne Payne is president of Pastoral Care Ministries in Wheaton, Illinois.

Leadership Spring 1998 p. 49-50

Speed Leas, co-author of Mastering Conflict and Controversy, writes about a church that was mired in “dissension between the newcomers and long-time members.” At an all-day meeting, the congregation drew up guidelines for how they would handle their conflict. Some of those guidelines:

1. Conflict can be healthy and useful for our church. It is okay for people to differ with one another.
2. Resolutions for the sake of quick agreement are often worse than agreements that are carefully worked out over time.
3. Fair conflict management includes:
   1. dealing with one issue at a time;
   2. if more than one issue is presented, agreeing on the order in which the issues will be addressed;
   3. exploring all the dimensions of the problem(s);
   4. exploring alternative solutions to the problem(s).
4. If any party is uncomfortable with the forum in which the conflict is raised, it is legitimate to request and discuss what the most appropriate forum might be.
5. Inappropriate behavior in conflict includes, but is not limited to:
   1. name calling;
   2. mind reading (attributing evil motives to others);
   3. inducing guilt (e.g., “Look how you’ve made me feel”);
   4. rejecting, deprecating, or discrediting another person;
   5. using information from confidential sources or indicating that such information exists.
6. Fair conflict always allows people who are charged with poor performance or inappropriate behavior to:
   1. know who their accusers are;
   2. learn what their accusers’ concerns are;
   3. respond to those who accuse.

“With these and other agreements in place,” Leas writes, “the congregation, especially the trustees and session, was able to work through a variety of conflicts.”

From Mastering Conflict and Controversy by Edward G. Dobson, Speed B. Leas, and Marshall Shelley (Multnomah/Christianity Today International, 1992).

1998 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or contact us.

1. Help for the Small-Church Pastor by Steve R. Bierly (Zondervan, 1995). An overview of how the small church operates. Gives key insights into how family orientation affects the ministry.
2. Activating Leadership in the Small Church by Steve Burt (Judson, 1988). Candidly deals with small-church characteristics and the effects on leadership. Focuses on volunteers and the process for selecting a pastor.
3. Turnaround Strategies for the Small Church by Ron Crandall (Abingdon, 1995). Must reading for all small-church pastors, especially those dealing with churches in decline. Provides key insights on how the small church can become effective.
4. Developing the Small Church Ministry by Glenn C. Daman (Available from the Institute of Small Church Health, 1997). Helps develop direction and goals. A guide to assess and develop relevant ministries.
5. Developing Your Small Church’s Potential by Carl S. Dudley and Douglas A. Walrath (Judson, 1988). Explains how small churches can be effective by adapting to sociological changes.
6. Making the Small Church Effective by Carl S. Dudley (Abingdon, 1978). Lyle Schaller refers to this as the best book on the topic.
7. The Rural Church: Learning from Three Decades of Change by Edward W. Hassinger, John S. Holik, and J. Kenneth Benson (Abingdon, 1988, out of print). A study in Missouri, focusing on statistical analysis of rural churches. Dispels prevalent myths.
8. No Little Places by Ron Klassen and John Koessler (Baker, 1996). Focuses on small-town churches, exposing many myths about rural, small town, and “rurban” ministries.
9. Leading the Small Church by Doran McCarty (Broadman, 1991, out of print). Must reading for those who are frustrated by the power structure in the small church.
10. The Big Small Church Book by David R. Ray (Pilgrim, 1992). A comprehensive overview.
11. Rural Evangelism by Kevin E. Ruffcorn (Augsburg, 1994). Evangelizing the rural community is different from reaching the city. This book addresses those differences.
12. The Small Church Is Different by Lyle E. Schaller (Abingdon, 1982). Shows why what is effective in the larger, suburban church is not productive in its smaller counterpart.
13. The Small Membership Church by Lyle E. Schaller (Abingdon, 1994). A sequel. While writing on the small-church’s long life expectancy, he challenges it to move forward in ministry.
14. Making It Work: Effective Administration in the Small Church by Douglas A. Walrath (Judson, 1994). Addresses two critical problems and how to overcome them; not having enough people and enough money.
15. Preaching and Worship in the Small Church by William H. Willimon and Robert L. Wilson (Abingdon, 1980). Examines the roles of various worship styles and preaching.
16. Growing the Small Church by C. Wayne Zunkel (Cook, 1983, out of print). A helpful book for those who are in a situation where growth is possible.

—Glenn C. Damaneditor, Mikros newsletterPortland, Oregon

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Copyright © 1998 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

One can never know how delicately balanced a long-term truce is until its equilibrium is shattered by the weight of a straw. A straw that lands as if it were a ten-pound hammer.

That straw was a few kids wearing ball caps in the worship service.

The church was a hundred years old in a town barely older. Both showed their age. The town and the church stood as landmarks to human determination to beat a living out of poor soil and bad weather. These people were tough. They put up with a lot to live there, and generally they put up with a lot from each other. Their main prejudice was against disingenuousness. The rule was, “Don’t act like one of us if you ain’t.” People who moved in and bought fancy western clothes didn’t last long.

One Sunday, a mother of teenage boys, who was also the church pianist, came to me right before the service and said, “I hope you don’t mind if the boys wear hats in church today. They got in late from the game last night, and they didn’t wake up in time to take showers, so their hair is all messed up.”

I shrugged my shoulders. Once, when high school kids took the Sunday morning offering wearing cut-off sweat pants and T-shirts ripped halfway up, no one said a thing. It was football clothing. High school sports is god in little Montana towns, so even though their dress seemed inappropriate, wearing football regalia made cultural sense. It made us feel proud to be so open to high school kids.

Montana schools are so far apart that it is not uncommon for teams to travel six hours to a contest. The boys hadn’t gotten in until 3:30 in the morning. A lot of kids in athletics don’t make it to church at all during the sports seasons; I figured it was better to have them in church with caps on than not at all. I respected the family’s desire for the boys to be in church.

Thinking back on what they’d worn in the past, I said to their mom, “I don’t see why it should be a problem.”

When I entered the sanctuary, I saw the boys—wearing nice clothes and ball caps. The service went fine, and I didn’t hear a word from anyone about it. Naturally, the boys wore their caps in church the next week and the next … It took a month before the sheep began to bleat:

“I wish the boys wouldn’t wear hats in church.”

“Pastor, do you think the boys should be wearing hats in church?”

I consistently defended the boys with passive responses: “It’s just good to have them in church. Hats aren’t such a big deal.” That would end the conversation.

This pattern continued for about four months, but pockets of resentment existed like heaps of dry tinder around our feet. It would only take a spark to get the fire going. The steel struck the flint in an unexpected way.

Twinkie Man’s confrontation

It was a clear, cool Sunday morning in July. The sun warmed the earth and the water in the Bitterroot River as the congregation gathered for worship, anticipating our annual river baptism and potluck picnic afterward. The biggest thing on most of our minds was potato salad.

While I was in the back room with the accompanists, making last-minute preparations for worship, a man in his mid-twenties, an East-Coast out-of-towner with a shaggy mane and a fast motorcycle, walked from the rear of the sanctuary to the front where the boys were seated. He asked them to remove their hats out of respect for the house of God.

This man, who attended worship regularly, was loved by everyone. I called him “Twinkie Man” because he distributed Hostess products to valley grocers as he pursued graduate studies at the University of Montana.

The boys, unaccustomed to taking orders from anyone, refused. He insisted. They balked. The stepfather of one of the boys came up and silently placed his hat on his head, and sat by the boys.

This ended the confrontation.

When I entered the sanctuary seconds later, I noticed the dad sitting next to the boys wearing a cap. I didn’t think much of it. At the end of the service, as the boys’ parents came through the line, they said, “The boys shouldn’t have been treated that way,” as if I knew what had happened.

My pastoral visit initiated the decapitation of Mount St. Helens.

The stepfather, who had pulled off ball-cap solidarity resistance, said essentially the same thing and mentioned something about the guy who’d perpetrated the injustice. Others said, “We’re glad the young man confronted them.”

When the Twinkie Man came by, I asked if we could talk afterward.

He told me what he’d done, and I became mad at him. I defended the boys’ right to wear hats in church. He said what they did offended older members of the congregation. I told him I didn’t think they had offended anyone. He disagreed.

Why wouldn’t the little game eventually lose inertia? Didn’t we all love each other?

Hats of rebellion

The next week the comments against the ball caps came in like high-and-tight fastballs. So I wrote a letter to the congregation. I defended the boys’ right to wear hats in church from Paul’s letter to the Galatian church. From my perspective the boys were simply exercising their freedom in Christ. I thought about Paul’s admonition to the Corinthian church not to offend fellow Christians and the importance of not making the gospel incomprehensible to local culture, but I dismissed it. I was in the mood to be a hero, and I was afraid of the family. If that sounds like a contradiction, it is; I thought if the church could cut the kids a little New Testament slack, everything would settle down.

As I reread that letter today, it sounds like NRA or ACLU rhetoric:

Do we really want to go back to dress codes? Where will it end? If we start to take away people’s freedom about something like a hat, what about when people start demanding that women wear dresses? Or that men must wear coats and ties? Don’t laugh. If we take away freedom and begin with dress codes, where will it end?
We can’t let an issue like hats in worship divide this church and stop our work; the times are too dangerous, Christian faith is too rare, churches around us are dying, and people in our community (some of whom wear ball caps) need to hear the good news. After all, someday the kid who comes to church with a ball cap eager to hear the gospel might be your child or your grandchild.

The congregation said little about the letter. One man, whom I’d baptized in the Bitterroot River with his cowboy boots on, had the guts to come to me and explain that for a man to wear a hat in church just wasn’t right. I ignored him.

Of course the boys’ families loved the letter. A family member said, “Thanks for taking our side.” That should have signaled to me something deeper was going on. But I had seriously misjudged the congregational, cultural, and pastoral dynamics of the situation.

The Twinkie Man knew, as I did not, that to this culture, wearing hats in worship wasn’t simply a matter of personal discretion, it was a matter of the profanation of worship. The men in the community wore hats in restaurants, in their homes, at dinner, and at school concerts, but when the flag was presented, the hats came off. I should have remembered that. They wore hats at graveside services, until we prayed, and then the hats came off. When they walked into a church building, the hats came off as a sign of submission to a higher authority.

Wearing a hat in church was deeply offensive to these people. While at the time I wasn’t willing to admit it, I didn’t like seeing the hats in church, either.

The boys were vaguely aware that hats were a sign of rebellion. The parents knew it acutely. For the boys the hats were fashionable. They definitely enjoyed stirring things up a bit, and we’d let them. They were rascals in a culture that rewarded rascalism. For the parents, particularly the mother, the hats symbolized a power struggle that had been going on in the church for decades. I didn’t see it because I didn’t want to. The family was dear to me; I had baptized the boys. Through hours of talking over coffee and working shoulder to shoulder in ministry, I had become part of their extended family that included Grandma and some aunts and uncles. I did not want to lose these relationships

The issue became a crisis. No one called special meetings, no one talked about a church split, the Twinkie Man cooled his engine, but the tension in the fellowship was overwhelming. When we gathered for worship, fellowship, or business, it was as if we were walking barefoot on shattered glass, smiling through the tears; no one wanted to admit that it hurt.

Sky-high explosion

Feeling I needed to act decisively, I went and made the worst pastoral visit of my life. I met alone with the family of two of the boys. I had no clear idea of what I wanted to accomplish. I didn’t understand the issues. I was ready to accept any settlement that offered me relief. The mother had insisted the boys be allowed to make their own decision. After a long discussion in which I pretended to talk tough, I agreed with her.

I should have realized that this was her battle.

How could I have put a decision, upon which the future of the church depended, into the hands of two high school kids? It was too much responsibility for them and so much irresponsibility from me. Of course the boys did not remove their hats.

Did I pray? Constantly. For hours. For answers. For wisdom. For mercy. For resolution. For anesthesia. But nothing came of it.

I was not to be allowed under any circumstances to come away from this debacle as the hero. God wasn’t leading me; he was using me. He was using the family and the church. I had some things to learn that only something this painful and befuddling could teach me.

Finally I asked for advice outside of the community. I telephoned two veteran pastors, each twenty years ahead of me, each a mentor. Neither knew the other, but their conclusions were unanimous, and their words bore uncanny similarity: “You need to save the church. Go to the boys privately and ask them to remove their hats. They will respect your authority.”

I knew they were right, but I knew it was risky. I was going back on my previous stance, though I was willing to admit I had been wrong. But doing so meant I had to choose the church over the family. My battle-toughened mentors knew this.

This conflict raised a primary issue that my first twelve years of pastoral ministry had not forced me to deal with: Do I pastor a church, or do I pastor a collection of individuals?

When we gathered for worship, it was as if we were walking barefoot on shattered glass, smiling through the tears.

My theology told me that I pastor a church. I believed the church is more important than its pastor or its individual members. But my heart always told me that I pastor individuals. I figured that if I loved the individuals in the church sufficiently, loving the church would take care of itself.

So I went to the boys when I knew their parents weren’t home and asked the boys if they would remove their caps for the sake of the church. They readily agreed, even seemed relieved. I returned from the meeting exultant. I could see the solution taking shape: The boys remove their caps, and they get the credit for doing the right thing.

This seemed perfect.

Instead, my visit initiated the decapitation of Mount St. Helens, which erupted in my face the next morning after the parents discovered what I’d done.

The process that followed was thoroughly unpleasant and nothing but heartbreaking to the bitter end. During the final period of the conflict, the church was largely silent. Most people knew what I’d done, and they respected me for it. They didn’t taunt or push or even encourage. They just watched and prayed. None of the council members forced me to choose between their opinion and the church. At the final, crucial council meeting, several council members stood up for what I’d done.

One of them, a young man, spoke words I will not forget: “I will admit that I did not like seeing caps in church. But you are our leader, and I was willing to follow your call. You had the right to talk to the boys alone, because you are their pastor, like a coach has the right to talk to his ball players. You have made the call, and we need to stand by it. I agree with what you have done, I respect you for taking a stand. I’m with you.”

That was all that needed to be said. It still amazes me that the council would have followed my lead whatever stand I took. The family, on the other hand, could abide only one solution—theirs. No matter how tortuous and bumpy my road to the solution was, I know now—and I knew then—that I made the right call.

Ultimately, the whole extended family left the church, nine souls in all. At the time, they represented about 15 percent of our worship attendance. Within two weeks, the positions they held in the church were filled. The place began to grow like never before.

God in the foolishness

It’s not difficult to discern significant errors in my management of the ball-cap crisis.

First, I should never have tried to manage it by myself. I should have handed the issue to the church council early on. The problem was that two of the council members were in the family—including the mom. I assumed the council couldn’t deal with it. But I should have let the council struggle over the issue in a fair fight.

Second, I should have recognized how complicated cultural issues are. Before waxing self-righteously about Christian freedom—as if I were the hero of downtrodden high-school kids everywhere—I should have done my cultural homework. The boys could have staked their freedom in Christ—as they already had—without deeply offending the whole culture around them. I learned it isn’t wrong for people to learn courtesy, and it isn’t wrong for the church to require some respect.

Third, I learned how vulnerable I am to entanglement in family systems. I wasn’t prepared to make a decision between dear friends and a church. The friendship I shared with the family was real and positive on one level. However, I failed to recognize the church power struggles as one of the forces binding that family together. I did not realize that, as an adopted member of this family, when a showdown occurred I would be expected to side with the family—or reject the family.

Whereas most of the time we can love both the church and the individuals in it, in this case I was forced, against my will, to choose which I loved the most: the church or that family.

Beneath it all, I was being forced to ask whether I loved the church more than I loved myself. My feelings were being hurt badly, so I didn’t want to love the church. I wanted to love this family. I was required to side with the church against the family and against myself.

That decision changed my ministry. I became a stronger pastor. I became a more loving pastor, because I became better able to distinguish between loving people and loving what people do for me. I became a better pastor because it made me decide to love the church.

Even now as I pastor elsewhere, I love that little church more than ever. I love it more than any of its members. Hidden beneath the human foolishness of a church and its pastor, as they fumbled their way forward, was Almighty God.

He sanctifies the individuals but even more so the church. In this case, the church God planted and preserved for more than one hundred years is, at this time, doing better than at any time in its history.

This article was excerpted from The Pastor’s Soul Volume 1, “The Power of Loving Your Church: Leading with Acceptance and Grace.” This book is now found online in the CT Library. Using the “search by publication” option you can easily find this book and all of the corresponding chapters.

David Hansen is pastor of Belgrade Community Church in Belgrade, Montana.

1998 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or contact us.

What My Dad Did Right

by John H. Morgan

The air split from the sound of the rattlesnake. My heart pounded, and my legs shook.

“Here,” Dad said, tossing me a shotgun shell.

I was 10 years old, and like Barney Fife, had to carry my gun unloaded. I loaded, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. The shot severed the snake’s head, and the rattling slowly faded to silence.

Today that rattle sits in a cigar box with other treasures from my past. It reminds me of a great day in the field with my dad. I was a preacher’s kid with many religious experiences, but the things that spiritually affected me most were the nonreligious experiences with my dad.

My dad could teach spiritual principles from the most ordinary circumstances.

He brought me into his world

When Dad walked out the door, I was invited. When he played golf with his preacher friends, I rode in the golf cart. Yes, he had to tell me to be quiet, to stand back, and a dozen other rules. But I learned them.

I rode in the pickup with him and his buddy Red Moore when they went quail hunting. As Red lit up a Camel, I told him, in a serious voice, “Jesus doesn’t like it when you smoke.” Red laughed with that smoker’s hack. Dad just grinned.

I spent countless hours in the garage with my dad while he melted lead and made fishing sinkers, or refinished his boat, or fixed a car, or built furniture. People ask me how I acquired skills at fixing and building things. It catches me by surprise at first; it seems I was born with those abilities. But I got them from my dad.

The beauty of Dad’s method of bringing me into his world was that he did not have to alter his schedule, just his focus. There was never “family time” on his calendar. If he was doing something where I could be with him, I was.

He caught me doing something right

I was not an outstanding athlete and, thank God, my dad did not try to pump his ego on my athletic endeavors. But when I did play in a sports event, he was usually there.

On my junior high football team, I sometimes played linebacker. In one game I noticed the halfback leaning. I knew he was getting the ball and going left, but I had to gamble on the count. I figured it would be on two, since it usually was. At the right time, I dove through the line between center and guard and crashed into the halfback just as he received the ball. Tackled!

It was not one of those all-time greatest athletic achievements, but it was sweet for me. On the way to the ground I could hear my dad yelling, “All right, Johnny!”

One of a child’s greatest needs is to hear those “all right’s!”

He took advantage of the window years

The “window years” of a child’s development run from 5 years old to 15, or perhaps from 6 to 12.

My dad began deep-sea fishing in Mexico when I was 6. He started taking me along when I was 8. It was an adventure to haul trucks, boats, tents, and enough food and water to last ten days on a Mexican beach. Dad would take me out of school for up to two weeks to go with him. Some parents might raise an eyebrow at that, but the education was tenfold what school could produce. I came home bearing trophies that turned my friends green with envy: shark teeth, stingray stingers, and scorpions.

Late one day the Mexican sun burst into flame as it began its descent into the sea. We were preparing to pull the boats out of the bay and secure them on their trailers for the thousand-mile trip home.

“Let’s troll the point one more time,” Dad said. Off we went, just Dad and I. I was behind the wheel; Dad put his line out pulling his favorite homemade lure. I hugged the rocks jutting from the point as tight as I dared. Dad’s reel began to sing. Snagged on the rocks? I slowed the boat and pointed the nose to the open sea.

When we came to a stop, the reel kept singing. “I’ve got one!” He fought it as the sunset lit his face with anticipation.

A calico grouper came up beside the boat, brilliant with color. I went for the net, but it made a desperate lunge, threw the hook from its jaw, and disappeared into the depths. We sat back stunned, bobbing on the waves. We lost the fish, but not the experience.

The other day my dad commented, “I regret not being more consistent in family devotions when you were growing up.”

I reminded him that our family altar was often a boat, a field, or a golf cart.

John H. Morgan is pastor of Exciting Tabernacle Baptist Church in Farmington, New Mexico.

The Price of Living with a Great Pastor

by Lena Butler

The afternoon of Dad’s funeral, we assembled at the funeral home. Soon, a procession of friends and strangers would come to honor our father’s memory.

I stared through a blur of tears at the wooden box six steps away, not wanting to look, yet unable to look away for long. Inside, on tufted ivory satin, lay all that was left of my father. Fifty years of faithful service to his Maker had not guaranteed an easy departure from earth.

The love of his flock

Our hearts were warmed that day by the kindness and affection showered on us, simply because we were our father’s offspring. As one old saint put it, “You was really blessed to be his kids!”

Daylight dissolved into darkness. Still the line of mourners stretched out the door, visible proof that people genuinely respected Dad. More—they loved him! With tears and smiles they painted a radiant picture of their friend:

“Whenever we called on Pastor, he came!”

“When our boy shot hisself, I never woulda’ made it without ‘the Rev.’ His faith carried me through. I’ll never forget him!”

“Can’t tell you what it meant to me that your daddy stayed that awful night when my wife died of cancer. That man was the truest friend I’ll ever have.”

“Your father saved my life! I could talk with him about anything.”

“Pastor was my mentor, before I knew the meaning of the word. After I got laid off from the mill, he kept goin’ ’til finally I found a new job—a better job.”

“I loved it when Pastor quoted Scripture. Seemed like he always had just the right verse on the tip of his tongue.”

Those people affirmed the value of Dad’s ministry—of his life. Yet as the day wore on, I winced in pain as this stream of witnesses piled up evidence that confirmed the verdict I’d reached years before. Truly, my father gave more, revealed more to his flock than to his family.

Unanswered questions

At last the crowd was gone, and we four siblings were silent. Finally my brother, Josh, voiced the question that had drummed in my brain: “Who was that man they spoke of?”

Another moment passed before my older sister, Karen, answered quietly. “I never knew him.”

“Neither did I!” responded Val, my younger sister. “Whenever I tried to talk to Dad about personal problems, or about my feelings, he just looked uncomfortable and clammed up.”

“And all those people who told how Dad encouraged them!” said Josh. “I’d have given my right arm to hear him say he approved of me!”

I realized we shared a pain we had never discussed.

“They described the man I wanted to know as my father!” I said, tears flowing unchecked. “Some of them even quoted Dad’s favorite Bible verses! I can’t remember him talking of his personal faith to me—not even through all those months when he was dying. Have I been deaf all my life?”

“If you were, we all were,” said Josh. “It’s as if Dad put on his pastoral role like a garment.”

“Can’t help wondering, was his ministry a joy to him? I never knew,” said Karen. “Could it be that Dad was only really alive when he functioned as a pastor?”

No question about it, our father was a much-loved shepherd with an effective ministry. Love was a silent given in our family, and our home would have been labeled happy. Yet each of us in that parsonage chose against professional ministry.

An outside observer would have wondered why. Didn’t we see and hear Dad preach the gospel faithfully—and live it just as faithfully?

“Maybe Dad made himself available at all hours out of his own need to be needed,” Karen mused.

To Dad every request from a member constituted a command performance. Family plans were canceled without question. Protests were pointless. Even the youngest child could recite Dad’s response: “Don’t you understand? God called me, to serve these people. My work is to do the Lord’s work. How can I refuse? They need me.”

And he would be gone.

Lena Butler is a psuedonym for a writer living in the northwest.

Tribute to My Predecessor

by Ralph Nite, Jr.

Kansas City slept under a downy coverlet of snow. I lay cocooned against the cold, a layer of quilts tucked tight around me. A hand was shaking my shoulder, rousing me to consciousness. My father’s voice softly called in the dark: “Wake up, Son, I need your help.” Tipsy with sleep, I stumbled from bed, and shivering, groped for my clothes. My younger brother snored softly in the next bed.

My father was waiting in the kitchen. Dad was the pastor of a blue-collar Baptist church. Its pews were filled with laborers from the sooty plants and steel mills in the east river bottoms of Kansas City—burly men who served God with rough hands and black-rimmed nails.

Dad’s military background was usually evident; we joked that his idea of casual dress was to take off the jacket of his suit. Now, though, his hair was tousled, and he wore a huge wool overcoat over pajamas that were tucked into the top of a pair of black rubber snow boots.

An elderly member of the congregation had called. He was in his seventies, nearly used up, all bones and blotchy skin. He had been married for half a century. His wife was now ill and bedfast, and he cared for her in a hospital bed set up in the front room of their little shotgun house. Putting her in a nursing home was unthinkable.

The snow tires grabbed for traction as our station wagon pulled from our driveway into the road. The car could easily become bogged down in a drift, and I knew who would have to leave the warm car and push. I breathed a sigh of relief when Dad pulled into the old couple’s driveway. The snow crunched underfoot as we made our way toward the porch light.

He opened the door and led us to his wife’s side. The room was dimly illuminated by a single 40-watt bulb in a little lamp near her bed. The sour odors of age, sickness, and Pine-Sol caused me to catch my breath. She was a large woman in an ancient, pink cotton nightgown, her yellow-white hair limply pasted to her head. She had been having bad dreams, and in a fitful moment had fallen out of bed. She was uninjured, but her husband did not have the strength to get her back in bed.

Groaning under her weight, we wrestled her back into bed. There was a simple thank you. I have never forgotten the look of gratitude in that old man’s face as he showed us to the door.

Call to servanthood

Nearly two millennia earlier, the table was set for the Seder, the Passover meal, when suddenly Jesus did the unthinkable. He removed his outer garment, wrapped a towel around himself, poured water into a bowl, and knelt to wash his disciples’ feet.

None of Jesus’ disciples would volunteer for such a task. Peter did not intend to wash anybody’s feet, and he recoiled as Jesus knelt to wash his. The disciples stared in silence as Jesus stated, “I have set an example that you should do as I have done for you” (John 13:15).

The call to the pastorate is the call to servanthood. This is a hard lesson, and we are no more inclined to listen than the first disciples were.

In one of life’s ironies, I am now a pastor in the same inner-city church where my father served on that winter night three decades ago. Like the first disciples, my inclination is to jockey with my ministerial peers for position. Servanthood is not an attitude pastors come by naturally, nor is it held in high esteem.

Yet I remember that old man, his wife lying helpless on the floor in the middle of the night. He didn’t need an appointment; he needed a servant. He didn’t need a pastor in two weeks; he needed one then.

My father retired this spring. During the reception, people told me that my father’s ministry had touched their lives. It was interesting that nobody mentioned his preaching, though he was a capable expositor. Yet many people mentioned loving acts of service.

The church had a portrait of my father painted in honor of his retirement, and the morning it was hung in the entryway to the church, a little boy asked his mother, “Is that God?”

We chuckled over the naivete’ of a little child. It is not a portrait of God, but a lot of people have seen Jesus in an inner-city pastor who devoted his life to acts of service.

Ralph Nite, Jr., is pastor of Centropolis Baptist Church in Kansas City, Missouri.

1998 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or contact us.

I had just received a scathing letter from a couple unhappy about a situation in the youth department. Their response was carnal; they certainly didn’t understand the whole situation. I hadn’t yet been able to meet with them.

When I stepped up to preach that Sunday morning, I felt ungracious and carried a grudge. During my introduction, I made some ad-lib quips that gave everyone a chuckle—everyone except the couple who had sent the letter. While the congregation held their sides in laughter, this couple sat stoically, second row, center section, arms folded, eyes staring through me.

By the time I finished the sermon (with no more humor), I felt physically sick and spiritually wasted. My unforgiveness was quickly growing into bitterness and resentment.

My tendency not to forgive even insignificant offenses has forced me to think clearly about the steps I need to take to restore my relationship with God and the offender.

1. Recognize my weak spots

Most people tend to be sensitive where they’ve been battered numerous times. The criticism leveled at me by the family angry about the youth ministry event was only one in a series of skirmishes with them. Their attitude, devoid of grace, was the final straw for me. I felt they had no interest in giving anyone the benefit of the doubt.

Perhaps because some of my worst conflicts in ministry have involved people who I felt lacked grace and understanding, I tend to react with anger in such situations. I’m quickly set off by people who excel in fault-finding.

As I’ve learned to recognize my weak spots, I’ve found I am better able to control my responses. My challenge is to receive from the Holy Spirit grace and forgiveness for these saints rather than fight back in anger, unforgiveness, and bitterness.

2. Resist my first impulse

When I read of a person who conceals a gun in his coat pocket to get even with a boss who treated him wrongly, or someone who bombs a building full of innocent citizens, I often think, How could someone do such a thing? Normal people just don’t react like that.

But I’ve had all kinds of evil thoughts about settling the score with people who I felt wronged me. Perhaps that’s the next move toward forgiveness—recognizing that, if given the right circumstances, I could exact a vicious retribution. In fact, if I don’t forgive someone, I can begin to fantasize about ways to get even.

After a devastating disagreement with a church family who had opposed me on nearly every issue and subject, I thought, If God isn’t going to bring swift judgment, I could offer some assistance.

I thought about alerting the IRS to their tax improprieties I knew about. Or I could become a nocturnal nuisance by driving by their house with my radio blaring, horn honking, and high-beams shining in their windows.

When I shared these dastardly secret thoughts with a friend, he looked at me in astonishment. “Could you really do those things to them?”

I said, “Sure, just like anyone could who yields to the temptation to get revenge instead of tackling the challenge of forgiveness.”

I am reminded of the observation James Broderick made of Pope Paul IV: “He never forgot such offenses, which was one of his fundamental weaknesses. He might bury the hatchet for a time, but he gave the impression of always carefully marking the spot.”

Why do rather minor conflicts sometimes leave wounds of unforgiveness and bitterness?

I avoid that only by curtailing any fantasies of revenge.

3. Admit my guilt

In Deuteronomy 32:35, God instructed the people through Moses: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay. In due time their foot will slip; their day of disaster is near and their doom rushes upon them.”

My obsessing about revenge is an attempt to participate in God’s judgment. That only aggravates the conflict, exacerbates the memory of it, and causes more pain. It’s like having one of the guilty parties in a contractual dispute participate in the trial and sentencing of the other party. Justice cannot be served by one guilty party judging the other.

That I am also often guilty, that I haven’t been perfectly righteous in my actions, can be hard to accept. In many instances, there are two guilty parties in conflict. Therefore, I cannot have any part in repaying the wrong.

I wonder how many reconciliation opportunities have broken down because both parties came together prepared to forgive but were unprepared to be forgiven. John Oglethorpe, a friend of John Wesley, allegedly told Wesley, “I never forgive.”

Mr. Wesley wisely replied, “Then, Sir, I hope that you never sin.”

4. Avoid pulpit revenge

I have found that delaying forgiveness can lead me to abuse the public ministry of preaching. I once used a critical letter I received to illustrate how wrong it is to criticize someone when you don’t know all the facts. During the sermon I read a portion of the letter, which made accusations and drew conclusions based on misinformation. Then I set the record straight for the congregation by describing the facts of the situation. Of course, the facts demonstrated how my critics had jumped to the wrong conclusion and had been at fault in their criticism.

The congregation seemed to sympathize with me and saw my accuser as a careless and negative antagonist. I had illustrated a biblical point and silenced my opponent at the same time.

The next week I received a second letter from this man, stating that he and his family were leaving the church, and asking me not to call or contact them. While I had carefully protected their identity in the sermon illustration, they knew to whom I was referring. I had left them no way out but to leave.

No matter how wronged I may feel, and no matter how strong the temptation, the public forum is not the place to confront a critic. It gives me a lopsided advantage that too often results in a biased presentation of my side of the story without an opportunity for a fair rebuttal.

I’ve discovered the best way to defend against this temptation is to offer forgiveness privately.

5. Forgive one at a time

I wish I could say I’ve found the formula for forgiveness that works the first time, every time. I haven’t. Forgiveness isn’t something I can do once, then it’s all over.

The length of the forgiveness process is usually proportionate to the severity of the pain I’ve experienced. Forgiveness is more like writing a book than writing a letter. When I write a letter, I put my thoughts on paper, sign it, seal the envelope, and send it. Writing a book involves what seems an endless cycle of writing and rewriting.

Minor conflicts I can usually handle quickly, in the spirit of 1 Peter 4:8: “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.” But when the offense is severe, the process of forgiveness can be equally severe.

Following the most difficult experience I’ve had in ministry—being terminated—I learned more about the process of forgiveness than I wanted to know. The entire process took close to two years.

It seemed like my forgiveness was complete within a few months after I left that ministry. I brought the incident to the Lord in prayer and told him I wanted to forgive those whom I felt were responsible. I even listed them by name. Forgiveness seemed to release me.

But a couple of weeks later, I ran into one of the opposition leaders at a local restaurant. After my friend and I finished our breakfast, we stopped by this person’s table for a brief but cordial chat. As we left the restaurant, my friend remarked, “Boy, you sure seemed at ease talking with Steve. I guess you’ve been able to put all of that stuff from the church behind you.”

I mumbled, “Yeah, that’s old business now; it’s time to move ahead.” But for the rest of the day, every time I had an idle minute, Steve’s name, face, and actions came rushing to the forefront of my mind. I couldn’t get rid of my thoughts. That old resentment seemed as real and powerful as ever—a shocking blow to my spiritual equilibrium.

I thought I had worked through my forgiveness of those in that debacle. Why was I reacting like this?

“Lord, isn’t it enough to put that whole mess in a package, tie it up tightly, and then write Forgiven across it?”

Evidently not. I still had to forgive each of the eight individuals in that conflict. While thinking I could forgive in one composite act, I discovered I would have to forgive one by one.

The process lasted many more months. Each time I fantasized about one person, I identified clearly what I was feeling toward the specific person God brought to mind. Sometimes that took a few days to think through thoroughly. But finally I was able to write my feelings as well as identify the reasons behind them. I discovered that the simple act of praying for someone, even when it felt hollow and rehearsed, had a way of opening my heart toward that person.

Justice cannot be served by having one guilty party judge the other.

God was creative in showing me the next person I needed to forgive. I was in the supermarket looking for toothpaste and shaving cream when out of the corner of my eye I saw another couple who had contributed to my termination. My reaction was to hide among the vegetable displays. Too late. I heard that familiar drawl, “Well, hi there, Gary.” After several short sentences, we parted.

I knew immediately the next person whom I needed to forgive.

6. Speak about the person to others

SOne technique that helped me forgive was to speak about the person who had wronged me in conversations with others.

I remember talking about one antagonist to a friend who knew him; that way, I put myself in a position that forced me to speak kindly of him. But I discovered that whether the person I conversed with knew the person I needed to forgive was irrelevant. By speaking positively about someone, I felt pushed toward reconciliation; the positive words forming on my lips began to work on the feelings in my heart. The ease of those words also became a gauge of my forgiveness—the easier they flowed, the further along I discovered I was in the forgiveness process.

7. Take them to the Lord in prayer

A final step that helped me to forgive was to gather my thoughts and feelings and take them to the Lord. Sometimes I would write them on paper and read them to God in prayer. Other times I recited them to God directly from my thoughts. Reciting negative thoughts and feelings to the Lord allowed me to ask God to forgive me for my sin. I was then able, with his help, to move forward to offer forgiveness to others.

This protracted experience of forgiveness taught me how much God’s forgiveness of me enables my forgiveness of others.

There’s a story about a traveler making his way with a guide through the jungles of Burma. They came to a shallow but wide river and waded through it to the other side. When the traveler came out of the river, numerous leeches had attached to his torso and legs. His first instinct was to grab them and pull them off.

His guide stopped him, warning that pulling the leeches off would only leave tiny pieces of them under the skin. Eventually, infection would set in.

The best way to rid the body of the leeches, the guide advised, was to bathe in a warm balsam bath for several minutes. This would soak the leeches, and soon they would release their hold on the man’s body.

When I’ve been significantly injured by another person, I cannot simply yank the injury from myself and expect that all bitterness, malice, and emotion will be gone. Resentment still hides under the surface. The only way to become truly free of the offense and to forgive others is to bathe in the soothing bath of God’s forgiveness of me. When I finally fathom the extent of God’s love in Jesus Christ, forgiveness of others is a natural outflow.

Gary Preston is pastor of Bethany Church in Boulder, Colorado.

1998 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or contact us.

Two categories of people can make life particularly hard for a pastor: the passive-aggressive person and the projector. I call them “dragons,” a metaphor Leadership senior editor Marshall Shelley coined in his book Well-Intentioned Dragons.

Here’s how to recognize when such dragons sneak up on your back side and how to deflect their assaults—crucial survival skills in pastoral work.

1. Frustratorius Slipperious

The passive-aggressive congregant is more likely to smile than to snarl. This person appears friendly and supportive.

Only after you’ve entrusted this dragon with an important task will you begin to be confused. You thought you heard, “Oh, yes, I’d love to do that,” but the job went unfinished. Worse, you seem powerless to discover what actually happened. Attempts to confront the issue are likely to end with you looking like an insensitive dictator (rather than the compassionate, understanding person you really are).

Individuals whose primary relational style is passive-aggressive are hard to pin down. Their negative feelings remain submerged. Even though they disagree with you, they’re unlikely to assertively confront you. Instead their defense against the discomfort their anger creates internally is to deny it and then simply to retreat into a passive position.

This may manifest itself in procrastination, lateness, uncooperative behavior, or behind-the-scenes manipulation of others.

Recognizing the rumblings

In her first pastorate, Sarah was energetic, creative, and eager to minister effectively. Part of her philosophy was to involve lots of lay people, so when Joe offered to serve, she was delighted. Her only mental reservation was her discovery that Joe hadn’t done much in the church before. She told herself that was probably related to her predecessor’s leadership style.

Since Joe showed enthusiasm about the youth program, Sarah gave him the opportunity to develop some summer youth projects. Joe was full of exciting ideas for inner-city outreach, recreational events, and spiritual development. Sarah and Joe discussed several specific scenarios and what Joe would need to organize them.

By mid March Sarah began to grow concerned about the lack of progress. When she talked to Joe, he explained that his work had been more demanding than usual but that he would soon have more time. He said he definitely wanted to continue.

Easter was in early April, so Sarah became preoccupied with its events. After Easter she checked again with Joe, but this time she had trouble even making contact with him. Her messages on his answering machine weren’t answered. He failed to show up at a meeting.

Sarah never saw Joe at church after Easter Sunday, then began to hear rumblings that Joe was fed up with her controlling “micro-management.”

When she finally talked with the church chairman, Sarah found out Joe had a long history of procrastination, failure to follow through, and petulant back-biting when challenged by authority figures.

She discovered that her experience with Joe was a pattern he also exhibited with family, friends, and work colleagues.

How to tame this dragon

Two approaches—assertive confrontation or protective distancing—can lessen your vulnerability to passive-aggressive people and reduce your frustration. I prefer confronting such dragons. Doing so not only relieves my irritation, but also models a more productive skill for the passive-aggressive person.

To confront such a dragon, make an appointment with the person, and prepare to be persistent when he is late or misses the meeting altogether. Then, follow these four steps:

1. Identify the pattern from your perspective. Identify what you perceive happens in your interactions with him, and then invite the person to share his perception of those events.

For example, you might say, “Joe, I want to share some feelings and observations with you that have been difficult for me to handle. Then I need your help.”

Describe the pattern you’ve seen with specific illustrations: “It seemed to me your role as chairman was the pivotal point of breakdown. When I expressed my concern or questioned the progress, I thought everything was being handled. When it was too late to involve someone else, I discovered that the project wouldn’t be accomplished after all. That seems to be a pattern I’ve seen on other occasions, and I wonder if you’re aware of that?”

2. Own your feelings. You might say, “Last spring I asked you to organize some summer events you had expressed interest in. The events never happened. When all was said and done, I was disappointed and angry.”

3. Make clear your decision not to contribute to an ineffective pattern. State that you prefer to avoid perpetuating a pattern of relating that leaves you both guilty and frustrated. If he wants to commit to a future ministry activity, ask him to arrange an accountability system that will enhance the likelihood of his success, such as a series of deadlines and someone to report to regularly (not you).

4. Make the dragon responsible for his or her choices. After some input from him, acknowledge his explanations but say, “It really looks to me like an ineffective pattern in your life. I know it’s frustrating to me, and I suspect it’s uncomfortable for you. It might be something you’d want to look at for yourself. I know for me it’s more comfortable when I’m direct with my feelings—well, like I’m doing now with you.

“Otherwise I’d struggle with my anger and end up feeling guilty or just avoiding our relationship. Think about what I’ve said and let me know what you think.” In this way, you make the dragon responsible for his or her choices, and you invite the dragon to become more assertive in expressing his or her anger and fear.

The passive-aggressive congregant is more likely to smile than to snarl.

Follow up your confrontation with some distinct boundary identifications depending on the response (or more likely, the nonresponse) you receive.

Dragon or just disgruntled member?

How can a pastor distinguish the passive-aggressive person from someone who merely seems to be?

The level of deceit

The dragon will flatly lie about his behavior: “Oh, I sent that. Didn’t you receive it?” The deception tends to proliferate as each act of refusal is justified or hidden.

The degree of hostility

In a dragon, the underlying anger toward anyone in authority or exerting a measure of control becomes obvious. It will probably surface as blaming statements (“Well, you never told me what you expected”) or as degrading comments spread to others behind your back (“Don’t ever trust something that pastor says!”).

The non-dragon will admit his failure, probably with lots of apologies. Pastors likely won’t become the object of blame for delays or become the target of slanderous comments.

2. Accusorius Selfrighteousi

The projector is a more primitive beast than the passive-aggressive person. The dragon denies anxiety-producing feelings or impulses within, then projects them onto some other person.

The behavior is more openly hostile than the actions of the passive-aggressive person, and is hurled with blame, coated with self-righteousness: “I’m not angry (lustful, controlling, etc.) but you, Pastor, are the most angry and hostile person I’ve ever seen. I’ve had to tell the ‘truth’ to others about how you’ve attacked me (tried to seduce, manipulate, etc).”

This dragon will make you not only furious but can back you into a corner. You may begin to sound like the angry, controlling, abusive person described in the projection.

People who use projection are often insecure and have developed a rigid self-righteousness to avoid dealing with their humanity. The resulting legalism is a comfortable fortress into which they retreat. Others with similar personality structure may be drawn to this dragon’s apparent confidence and strength. Consequently a dragon who is projecting unholy attributes onto you can generate lots of conflict.

Priscilla’s concern

Priscilla was a strong and vocal member of First Church. Her parents had been charter members and were pillars of the church. She had always been part of the core group.

Strict and devout, Priscilla came across as critical and rigid in her attitude toward others, especially church staff members. That was particularly true about lifestyle issues like drinking, dancing, card playing, dress codes, and sexuality. She seemed at times to be obsessed with concerns about sexual harassment and abuse. She had purged the church of three previous staff members whose morality came under scrutiny because of her “sensitivity and alert watchfulness.”

Consequently the selection committee had been extremely careful in recommending Pastor Strate Arrow. Arrow had an unblemished record of twenty-four years in dynamic churches. His moral standards and behavior were above reproach.

It was a bit surprising when Priscilla stopped by the study to express her concern about the pastor’s “lustful glances” at the soloist Sunday morning. Arrow didn’t know Priscilla’s history, but he remained calm and nondefensive, thanking her for expressing her concern.

Strate didn’t have to search his heart on the issue. He knew himself well enough to be aware of such feelings. He did have to search his mind a little to remember who the soloist was. He’d been absorbed in his sermon outline. He mentioned Priscilla’s comments to his wife that night. She laughed at the idea because she did remember Sunday’s soloist.

Later, considering the dangerous tone of the accusation, they made some discreet inquiries about Priscilla. They quickly determined this was no laughing matter, hearing that Priscilla had expressed her concern to a few other people.

Although Pastor Arrow was inclined to ignore the whole thing, he took some precautionary steps. He first talked to the chairman of the board and then the staff. Having recently come through an ugly experience with a staff member, the church chairman and the staff saw the importance of dealing with the accusation decisively before it created doubt and suspicion.

Priscilla was confronted by the chairman, the executive committee, Pastor Arrow, and the church’s legal counsel. It became obvious Priscilla’s accusations, which by then had grown to include Arrow’s “inappropriate touches” when she came to his office and his hostile outburst since she had “exposed” him, had no basis.

In the meeting, the attorney warned her about liability for slander and recommended she consult with a professional counselor about her areas of concern. She stormed out and left the church, but the decisive action prevented what could have become a long, nasty fight.

Refuse to be drawn into trading accusations.

How to tame this dragon

It’s tempting for a pastor, operating from a rational, logical position, to try to prove his or her point by reasoning with an individual who uses projection. Arguing your point or trying to persuade her to see the truth will only add to your frustration. Equally ineffective, and even more dangerous, is trying to mollify her by admitting some degree of culpability—”Well, Priscilla, I can see how you might have thought that … “

That sort of statement is likely to come back to haunt you. Better to say, “I’m sorry you thought that, but that didn’t happen. I suggest we talk this through with the people you say were involved and the church chairman so the facts can come to light.”

The most important defense against projection is to refuse to be drawn into trading accusations. Stick with the truth, and be sure you have witnesses to conversations. The truth will generally be recognized by others when they are exposed to the unrealistic aspects of the projections.

Whenever you must respond directly, don’t blame or discredit. Accept that this angry person has a right to her opinion and interpretation. But make it clear that her perception is not who you are. It is wise and may become necessary to enlist the power and authority of the denomination or congregational leaders to intervene and silence the accusations.

It is important to record events and have witnesses to every transaction, showing you have given this person every opportunity to act freely and that any decision to limit or silence her has been taken by the entire body or the leadership, not by you alone.

In today’s litigious climate it’s important to consider legal advice as well. Projection often comes with intense feelings and convincing descriptions so the accusations should be taken seriously.

Dragon or just disgruntled member?

The cardinal feature that distinguishes a disgruntled or disappointed congregant from a person using projection is the intensely held false belief.

An unhappy individual may come to you with intense feelings but can be reasoned with. He or she will be quite willing to meet with others to assess the facts and give up the accusations. At times you’ll discover the explosion was actually sparked by some unintended or misinterpreted statement you made. A simple apology will suffice, “I’m sorry my comment sounded that way, but it wasn’t meant in the way you thought. Thanks for letting me know what you were thinking. I hope this clears things up.”

You might use the occasion to explore other impressions: “Are there any other areas of concern you may have?”

At this point you’ll sense whether the person has a fixed and aggressive position. If so, put on the full armor of God.

Louis McBurney is a psychiatrist and founder of Marble Retreat in Colorado.

1998 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or contact us.