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I recently watched a TV show where a little girl found her single mother right after she had been murdered.  The case went unsolved for years.

Ten years later, that girl had become a young woman, but she still wanted to know … indeed, had to know … who killed her mother and why.

The show explored this idea: Is it better just to accept a tragedy and move on?  Or can a person only move on when they know who and what caused the tragedy?

One of the great tragedies in Christian circles is the high number of pastors who are forced out of their churches every month.

It’s safe to say that at least 1,500 pastors leave their positions every thirty days … hundreds of them due to forced termination.

In a minority of cases, the pastor did or said something to accelerate his exit, such as embezzling funds … committing sexual immorality … using a controlling, dictatorial style … or engaging in a moral or criminal felony.

But in the vast majority of cases, a faction inside the church conspires to target their pastor by plotting together, manufacturing charges, circumventing procedures, and then forcing his resignation.

After a pastor has undergone such a painful experience, how much time and effort should he invest in finding out who wanted him out, and why?

_______________

There is no easy answer to this question.  Maybe this story can shed some light on the options.

Three decades ago, I had a pastor friend who was forced out of his church after nine years.  A faction in the church falsely accused his teenage daughter of doing something wrong.  The faction insisted the girl apologize in front of the entire church, and the pastor resigned to protect her.

As was my custom, I called him immediately and listened to his story.

I asked him one day, “How many pastors from our district have contacted you?”  (There were 85 churches in our district.)  He told me, “You’re the only one.”

A year after he left, we met for lunch.  He knew the name of the person most responsible for his departure … someone well-connected inside the denomination … but he did not know why he was targeted.

I gave him a book on forced termination … one of the few available in the 1980s … and after reading it, my friend told me, “Now I know why they got rid of me.”

After that, I lost contact with him.

Years later, I opened up the San Francisco Chronicle one morning and there was a front page story about my friend.  He had left the pastorate behind and pioneered a new approach to ministering to patients with HIV.

I was proud of him … not only for overcoming the pain from his past, but for directing his energies toward helping others.

_______________

Let me draw four lessons from my friend’s story:

First, most pastors have a good idea of the key players involved in their departure.

The pastor usually knows the board members … staffers … key leaders … and regular churchgoers who don’t like him.

The pastor may not know how their spouses or children are involved … nor the exact number of people who want to see him gone.

But most pastors know the identities of most of the individuals who are out to get him.  (And if he doesn’t, his wife surely knows.)

In my friend’s case, he told me the name of the man who was most behind his departure.  I have always remembered it.

In some cases, that’s all the pastor needs to know.  In other cases, the pastor needs to know more … a lot more.

_______________

When I was forced out of my position as senior pastor nine years ago, I knew the board members were involved, and within two weeks, I discovered that the associate pastor and the previous pastor also played a part in my professional execution.

Over time, friends inside the church informed me of specific individuals who either joined the plot or applauded my departure.

I needed to know the names of those people so I could unfriend them on Facebook … purge them from my mailing list … or avoid them if and when I returned to the city where the church was located.

As it was, I still made some mistakes in trusting people I shouldn’t have trusted.

Some pastors might say, “Since I can never know the names of everyone who was against me, I’ll just cut off all contact with everyone from that church.”

But I chose not to do that.  I had developed friendships over my 10 1/2 year tenure that I wanted to keep, so I maintained a small level of contact with specific individuals.

The most supportive group turned out to be the people who had once attended the church but had moved away before the fireworks began.  Most didn’t even want to know who pushed me out or why.

In fact, my wife was contacted by one of those individuals this past week, and he asked her to become a key leader in a new missions organization.

But I think it’s important that a pastor identify the individuals most responsible for pushing him out of ministry … not to reconcile (almost nobody who conspires to get rid of a pastor wants reconciliation) but to avoid them socially … forgive them unilaterally … and relinquish them into the hands of a just God.

Second, most pastors don’t know the real reasons for their departure.

In the case of my pastor friend, I suspect that some in the church thought he was too rigid in his convictions.  He was very outspoken about his likes and dislikes, and even made me wince one time when he visited our church and criticized the Christmas tree in the back!

But I suspect that his unwillingness to play games may have been a contributing factor in his departure.  My friend made his decisions on the basis of righteousness, not politics or denominational priorities.

In many cases, the real reason why a faction goes after a pastor is that they just don’t like him.  He’s not “our kind of guy.”

But another reason why the faction doesn’t like their pastor is that they can’t control him.

After reading the book I gave him, my friend thought he knew why the faction targeted him … and maybe he was right.

But a lot of pastors never find out … and I think they should.

What if you keep repeating the same mistakes in church after church?

_______________

Maybe the film Murder on the Orient Express can help us understand the “why question” better.  (I’ve seen three versions of the story on film, and each one is captivating.)

The famous Belgian detective Hercule Poirot is traveling on the Orient Express train when a snow storm blocks the train’s progress.  During the night, a shadowy passenger is stabbed to death.

Who killed him … and why?

In the end, Poirot discovers that nine different people put a knife into the passenger’s body … each for a different reason.

That’s often what happens when a pastor is forced from office.  The plotters may circulate various public reasons why the pastor has to go, but they don’t share those reasons with others because it might make them look petty or unspiritual.

For example, I remain convinced that hatred and personal revenge are behind more terminations than we could ever imagine, but no self-respecting believer is going to admit those sins.

So there are public, group reasons for eliminating the pastor … and a host of more private, individualistic reasons.

In my case, there were four main parties:

*the church board

*the associate pastor

*a faction of disgruntled churchgoers … including some charter members

*my predecessor and his Fan Club

I might also add a fifth group, composed of a few former staffers and people who had left the church.

I believe that each party had a different motive for taking me out.  The associate pastor’s complaints were not those of my predecessor, and his complaints were different than those of the board.

It’s always amazed me … you can have a church of a thousand people, but if two people don’t like their pastor, they will inevitably find each other.

But disgruntled leaders find each other much more quickly.

Third, most leaders never tell their pastor why they think he should leave.

As I wrote above, my pastor friend did not know the real reason why some people wanted him to leave the church.

Why not?

Because church leaders – specifically the church board – never told him to his face.

They wimped out.

This is a huge problem in our churches.

When people are upset with their pastor, they don’t tell him anything directly.

They tell their friends instead.

As some churchgoers pool their complaints, they get organized … hold secret meetings … create a list of charges against their pastor … and rope in sympathetic board members or staff members.

The pastor is arrested, tried, convicted, and sentenced … usually without his knowledge.

And then one day, the board chairman tells the pastor that he has a choice: resign with a small severance package or be fired without any severance at all.

And all the while, no one has the guts to tell the pastor what he was doing wrong or how he could correct his behavior.

Maybe it’s just human nature for people to criticize an authority figure secretively, but it’s cowardly for people to create charges against their pastor without ever telling him what they’re unhappy about.

After all, pastors can’t read minds … so how can they change their behavior if they don’t know what they’re doing wrong?

_______________

Over the years, I had to fire several staff members.  I hated doing it, and viewed it as a failure on my part, believing that I didn’t hire them wisely or manage them effectively.

I hired one staff member, and a few weeks later, he disappeared for two weeks without telling me a thing.  When he returned, we sat down for a chat, and he told me he had every right to go on vacation without my approval or knowledge.

After I fired him, a leader asked me, “What took you so long?”

But when I fired someone, they knew exactly why I let them go.  They may not have agreed with me, but they didn’t have to guess why they were no longer employed.

In my case, the official board never formally sat down with me and expressed any concerns about my character or my ministry to my face.

They told my predecessor.

They told the associate pastor.

They told their wives.

They told their friends.

They told key leaders.

They just never told me.

And when the board fired my wife, they never spoke with her, either … telling me to go home and tell her that she had been terminated.  (I told them that two of them needed to meet with her, and later that week, they did.  But shouldn’t they have done that on their own?)

My wife and I just finished watching the fourth season of Line of Duty … a superb police procedural show from Great Britain about a police unit dedicated to rooting out corruption among law enforcement officers.

When the AC-12 unit has compiled enough evidence, they call in the officer in question, present him or her with all their evidence … and let the person respond after each piece of evidence is presented (including surveillance photos).

That’s the way it should be in our churches … but most of the time, things aren’t done that way.

The pastor’s detractors take shortcuts instead … ignoring their church’s governing documents, avoiding Scripture, and working around labor law.

The single biggest mistake the board made with both my wife and me is that they did not bring their concerns to us personally.

We could easily have rebutted most of them … and if we were wrong, we would have admitted it and asked for forgiveness.

But when you start with a desired outcome, you’ll circumvent a fair and just process … every time.

And by doing so, you violate the rights of the accused to alleviate your own anxiety.

Finally, most pastors wish they could reconcile with their accusers.

A new pastor succeeded my pastor friend in the late 1980s.  I shared several meals with him.

I don’t remember the details, but the new pastor invited my friend back to the church.  Some in the church apologized for the way they had treated my friend, and asked for his forgiveness, which included the major power broker.

This only happened because the new pastor discerned that unless he dealt with the church’s past, they might not have much of a future.

I was reminded this past week of another situation where a megachurch pastor was accused of having an affair with a woman in his church based on circumstantial evidence.  (This pastor taught a theology class I had in college and was considered a great communicator.)

When a new pastor came to that church – and he was someone I had heard preach – he eventually invited the pastor back and the church reconciled with him.

How I wish that would happen every time an innocent pastor is forced to leave a church!  But I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard of this being done.

If the church board had just talked to me honestly before making drastic decisions, we could have worked things out.  I might have taken time off, or looked for another ministry, or renegotiated my job description, or shuffled the staff around.

But they never talked to me directly, talking to others instead.  They triangled their pastor by siding with his opponents.

Reconciliation only works when both parties care more about winning over the other party than winning at all costs.

_______________

Since the board never discussed their concerns with me directly, I had to use alternate methods to find out the real story.

And if I didn’t find out, I would be forced to guess for the rest of my life why I was pushed out … and such speculation often ends in torture and misery.

So I discreetly talked to people inside and outside the church.  I wrote down everything that seemed relevant.

I consulted with:

*church friends

*staff members

*former board members

*influential people inside the church

*church consultants

*seminary professors

*Christian counselors

*a Christian conciliation expert

*other pastors

To this day, I believe that I made minor mistakes in my ministry … the same kind everyone makes … but that I did not commit any major offense against the Lord, the church, or anyone else.

I had to put the puzzle pieces together to:

*accurately assess responsibility

*avoid making similar mistakes in the future

*try and eliminate the cloud over my last ministry

*help my wife to heal

*see if I had any future in Christ’s church

*be able to sleep at night

_______________

Could my pastor friend have succeeded in his hospital ministry if his former church had never called him back for a time of reconciliation?

Maybe.

But what a blessing it was for him to return to his former church, listen to the apologies of those who tried to harm him, and grant forgiveness to the entire church body.

As some people write on Twitter, “More of this please!”

Yes, Lord … more of this … please.

 

 

I recently watched a TV show where a little girl found her single mother right after she had been murdered.  The case went unsolved for years.

Ten years later, that girl had become a young woman, but she still wanted to know … indeed, had to know … who killed her mother and why.

The show explored this idea: Is it better just to accept a tragedy and move on?  Or can a person only move on when they know who and what caused the tragedy?

One of the great tragedies in Christian circles is the high number of pastors who are forced out of their churches every month.

It’s safe to say that at least 1,500 pastors leave their positions every thirty days … hundreds of them due to forced termination.

In a minority of cases, the pastor did or said something to accelerate his exit, such as embezzling funds … committing sexual immorality … using a controlling, dictatorial style … or engaging in a moral or criminal felony.

But in the vast majority of cases, a faction inside the church conspires to target their pastor by plotting together, manufacturing charges, circumventing procedures, and then forcing his resignation.

After a pastor has undergone such a painful experience, how much time and effort should he invest in finding out who wanted him out, and why?

_______________

There is no easy answer to this question.  Maybe this story can shed some light on the options.

Three decades ago, I had a pastor friend who was forced out of his church after nine years.  A faction in the church falsely accused his teenage daughter of doing something wrong.  The faction insisted the girl apologize in front of the entire church, and the pastor resigned to protect her.

As was my custom, I called him immediately and listened to his story.

I asked him one day, “How many pastors from our district have contacted you?”  (There were 85 churches in our district.)  He told me, “You’re the only one.”

A year after he left, we met for lunch.  He knew the name of the person most responsible for his departure … someone well-connected inside the denomination … but he did not know why he was targeted.

I gave him a book on forced termination … one of the few available in the 1980s … and after reading it, my friend told me, “Now I know why they got rid of me.”

After that, I lost contact with him.

Years later, I opened up the San Francisco Chronicle one morning and there was a front page story about my friend.  He had left the pastorate behind and pioneered a new approach to ministering to patients with HIV.

I was proud of him … not only for overcoming the pain from his past, but for directing his energies toward helping others.

_______________

Let me draw four lessons from my friend’s story:

First, most pastors have a good idea of the key players involved in their departure.

The pastor usually knows the board members … staffers … key leaders … and regular churchgoers who don’t like him.

The pastor may not know how their spouses or children are involved … nor the exact number of people who want to see him gone.

But most pastors know the identities of most of the individuals who are out to get him.  (And if he doesn’t, his wife surely knows.)

In my friend’s case, he told me the name of the man who was most behind his departure.  I have always remembered it.

In some cases, that’s all the pastor needs to know.  In other cases, the pastor needs to know more … a lot more.

_______________

When I was forced out of my position as senior pastor nine years ago, I knew the board members were involved, and within two weeks, I discovered that the associate pastor and the previous pastor also played a part in my professional execution.

Over time, friends inside the church informed me of specific individuals who either joined the plot or applauded my departure.

I needed to know the names of those people so I could unfriend them on Facebook … purge them from my mailing list … or avoid them if and when I returned to the city where the church was located.

As it was, I still made some mistakes in trusting people I shouldn’t have trusted.

Some pastors might say, “Since I can never know the names of everyone who was against me, I’ll just cut off all contact with everyone from that church.”

But I chose not to do that.  I had developed friendships over my 10 1/2 year tenure that I wanted to keep, so I maintained a small level of contact with specific individuals.

The most supportive group turned out to be the people who had once attended the church but had moved away before the fireworks began.  Most didn’t even want to know who pushed me out or why.

In fact, my wife was contacted by one of those individuals this past week, and he asked her to become a key leader in a new missions organization.

But I think it’s important that a pastor identify the individuals most responsible for pushing him out of ministry … not to reconcile (almost nobody who conspires to get rid of a pastor wants reconciliation) but to avoid them socially … forgive them unilaterally … and relinquish them into the hands of a just God.

Second, most pastors don’t know the real reasons for their departure.

In the case of my pastor friend, I suspect that some in the church thought he was too rigid in his convictions.  He was very outspoken about his likes and dislikes, and even made me wince one time when he visited our church and criticized the Christmas tree in the back!

But I suspect that his unwillingness to play games may have been a contributing factor in his departure.  My friend made his decisions on the basis of righteousness, not politics or denominational priorities.

In many cases, the real reason why a faction goes after a pastor is that they just don’t like him.  He’s not “our kind of guy.”

But another reason why the faction doesn’t like their pastor is that they can’t control him.

After reading the book I gave him, my friend thought he knew why the faction targeted him … and maybe he was right.

But a lot of pastors never find out … and I think they should.

What if you keep repeating the same mistakes in church after church?

_______________

Maybe the film Murder on the Orient Express can help us understand the “why question” better.  (I’ve seen three versions of the story on film, and each one is captivating.)

The famous Belgian detective Hercule Poirot is traveling on the Orient Express train when a snow storm blocks the train’s progress.  During the night, a shadowy passenger is stabbed to death.

Who killed him … and why?

In the end, Poirot discovers that nine different people put a knife into the passenger’s body … each for a different reason.

That’s often what happens when a pastor is forced from office.  The plotters may circulate various public reasons why the pastor has to go, but they don’t share those reasons with others because it might make them look petty or unspiritual.

For example, I remain convinced that hatred and personal revenge are behind more terminations than we could ever imagine, but no self-respecting believer is going to admit those sins.

So there are public, group reasons for eliminating the pastor … and a host of more private, individualistic reasons.

In my case, there were four main parties:

*the church board

*the associate pastor

*a faction of disgruntled churchgoers … including some charter members

*my predecessor and his Fan Club

I might also add a fifth group, composed of a few former staffers and people who had left the church.

I believe that each party had a different motive for taking me out.  The associate pastor’s complaints were not those of my predecessor, and his complaints were different than those of the board.

It’s always amazed me … you can have a church of a thousand people, but if two people don’t like their pastor, they will inevitably find each other.

But disgruntled leaders find each other much more quickly.

Third, most leaders never tell their pastor why they think he should leave.

As I wrote above, my pastor friend did not know the real reason why some people wanted him to leave the church.

Why not?

Because church leaders – specifically the church board – never told him to his face.

They wimped out.

This is a huge problem in our churches.

When people are upset with their pastor, they don’t tell him anything directly.

They tell their friends instead.

As some churchgoers pool their complaints, they get organized … hold secret meetings … create a list of charges against their pastor … and rope in sympathetic board members or staff members.

The pastor is arrested, tried, convicted, and sentenced … usually without his knowledge.

And then one day, the board chairman tells the pastor that he has a choice: resign with a small severance package or be fired without any severance at all.

And all the while, no one has the guts to tell the pastor what he was doing wrong or how he could correct his behavior.

Maybe it’s just human nature for people to criticize an authority figure secretively, but it’s cowardly for people to create charges against their pastor without ever telling him what they’re unhappy about.

After all, pastors can’t read minds … so how can they change their behavior if they don’t know what they’re doing wrong?

_______________

Over the years, I had to fire several staff members.  I hated doing it, and viewed it as a failure on my part, believing that I didn’t hire them wisely or manage them effectively.

I hired one staff member, and a few weeks later, he disappeared for two weeks without telling me a thing.  When he returned, we sat down for a chat, and he told me he had every right to go on vacation without my approval or knowledge.

After I fired him, a leader asked me, “What took you so long?”

But when I fired someone, they knew exactly why I let them go.  They may not have agreed with me, but they didn’t have to guess why they were no longer employed.

In my case, the official board never formally sat down with me and expressed any concerns about my character or my ministry to my face.

They told my predecessor.

They told the associate pastor.

They told their wives.

They told their friends.

They told key leaders.

They just never told me.

And when the board fired my wife, they never spoke with her, either … telling me to go home and tell her that she had been terminated.  (I told them that two of them needed to meet with her, and later that week, they did.  But shouldn’t they have done that on their own?)

My wife and I just finished watching the fourth season of Line of Duty … a superb police procedural show from Great Britain about a police unit dedicated to rooting out corruption among law enforcement officers.

When the AC-12 unit has compiled enough evidence, they call in the officer in question, present him or her with all their evidence … and let the person respond after each piece of evidence is presented (including surveillance photos).

That’s the way it should be in our churches … but most of the time, things aren’t done that way.

The pastor’s detractors take shortcuts instead … ignoring their church’s governing documents, avoiding Scripture, and working around labor law.

The single biggest mistake the board made with both my wife and me is that they did not bring their concerns to us personally.

We could easily have rebutted most of them … and if we were wrong, we would have admitted it and asked for forgiveness.

But when you start with a desired outcome, you’ll circumvent a fair and just process … every time.

And by doing so, you violate the rights of the accused to alleviate your own anxiety.

Finally, most pastors wish they could reconcile with their accusers.

A new pastor succeeded my pastor friend in the late 1980s.  I shared several meals with him.

I don’t remember the details, but the new pastor invited my friend back to the church.  Some in the church apologized for the way they had treated my friend, and asked for his forgiveness, which included the major power broker.

This only happened because the new pastor discerned that unless he dealt with the church’s past, they might not have much of a future.

I was reminded this past week of another situation where a megachurch pastor was accused of having an affair with a woman in his church based on circumstantial evidence.  (This pastor taught a theology class I had in college and was considered a great communicator.)

When a new pastor came to that church – and he was someone I had heard preach – he eventually invited the pastor back and the church reconciled with him.

How I wish that would happen every time an innocent pastor is forced to leave a church!  But I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard of this being done.

If the church board had just talked to me honestly before making drastic decisions, we could have worked things out.  I might have taken time off, or looked for another ministry, or renegotiated my job description, or shuffled the staff around.

But they never talked to me directly, talking to others instead.  They triangled their pastor by siding with his opponents.

Reconciliation only works when both parties care more about winning over the other party than winning at all costs.

_______________

Since the board never discussed their concerns with me directly, I had to use alternate methods to find out the real story.

And if I didn’t find out, I would be forced to guess for the rest of my life why I was pushed out … and such speculation often ends in torture and misery.

So I discreetly talked to people inside and outside the church.  I wrote down everything that seemed relevant.

I consulted with:

*church friends

*staff members

*former board members

*influential people inside the church

*church consultants

*seminary professors

*Christian counselors

*a Christian conciliation expert

*other pastors

To this day, I believe that I made minor mistakes in my ministry … the same kind everyone makes … but that I did not commit any major offense against the Lord, the church, or anyone else.

I had to put the puzzle pieces together to:

*accurately assess responsibility

*avoid making similar mistakes in the future

*try and eliminate the cloud over my last ministry

*help my wife to heal

*see if I had any future in Christ’s church

*be able to sleep at night

_______________

Could my pastor friend have succeeded in his hospital ministry if his former church had never called him back for a time of reconciliation?

Maybe.

But what a blessing it was for him to return to his former church, listen to the apologies of those who tried to harm him, and grant forgiveness to the entire church body.

As some people write on Twitter, “More of this please!”

Yes, Lord … more of this … please.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The first time I interviewed to become the pastor of a church, I met a church crank.

He remained a thorn in my side for years.  Know anyone like that?

The deacons of a small church in Sunnyvale, California, received and reviewed my resume, and one Sunday night, the chairman called and asked me if I could preach at their church the following Sunday.

I said yes.

So my wife and I flew to San Jose and were picked up by the chairman, who drove us to the elementary school where the church met.

Inside a brown classroom, I met four deacons … all of them at least sixty years of age.  The chairman was 74.  The others were all over 60.

And I was just 27.

A deacon I’ll call Warren stood out because of his booming voice and his burly appearance … and as I would soon find out, he had quite a temper.

The sermon went well the following day … the people loved us … I preached a candidating sermon the following Sunday … and the church voted to issue me a call, which I accepted.

Little did I know it, but over the next few years, I would have many off balance encounters with Warren, even though his wife … twenty years his junior … was a delightful person.

For years, Warren had been a pastor in a small coastal town in Northern California.  He once told me that tapes of his sermons were circulating around the world.

But Warren wasn’t in church ministry anymore because he had been divorced.  I never learned the circumstances.

Every Sunday morning at our church, Warren made announcements before everyone went to Sunday School.  But one Sunday, Warren acted and spoke bizarrely … and I noticed his wife wasn’t with him.

When I got home from church, I called her … and she told me she was divorcing Warren … and shared with me some startling information.

When it became evident that Warren’s wife was serious about divorcing him, I couldn’t let him remain a deacon.  While I didn’t know why his first marriage had fallen apart, his second marriage was crumbling right before our eyes.

I spoke with the other deacons, and they reluctantly agreed with me: Warren had to step down from the board.

That was one of the hardest meetings of my life.  Warren was more than twice my age.  He had been a pastor for years.  And now I had to go to his house and tell him that he needed to step down from the board where he served with his friends.

To his credit, Warren seemed to understand.

But six months later, his deacon friends lobbied for me to reinstate him, telling me that he had “suffered enough.”

Although I didn’t want to, I reluctantly permitted Warren to return as a deacon … and lived to regret it.

Over the next few years, Warren did the following things:

*One Wednesday night, I taught on the resurrection of Jesus, and stated that it couldn’t be proven scientifically, which is true.  Warren stood up and yelled loudly, “Then we’re all wasting our time here!”  And he opened a heavy classroom door and slammed it … hard … and then left the school.  We all sat there in shock.  When we spoke later, he confessed that I was too good a theologian to make a reckless statement.

*Another time, I was reading a book on discipleship by British theologian David Watson, and included a quote from the book in a newsletter article.  Warren called me at home and lit into me about my use of that quote.  I had to calm him down before explaining what I meant.

*When our church rewrote our doctrinal statement, I included a section about the death and resurrection of Christ.  Warren angrily confronted me after a service because I had left out Christ’s burial!  (I left out the appearances as well … but only for brevity.)

*One Sunday night, our church held a business meeting, and Warren thought a certain woman had just criticized him publicly.  He stood up and yelled at the entire congregation when he was really upset with her.  Later that week, I had to tell him that if he didn’t apologize to the entire congregation the following Sunday night, he couldn’t be on the board anymore.  He apologized … sort of.

*The former deacon chairman was also the song leader on Sunday mornings and evenings.  He became angry with me over a petty issue and asked to come to a board meeting to complain about me.  He brought along a witness: Warren.  (The next day, the song leader left the church, but Warren stayed.)

*Although Warren eventually stopped being a board member, he did teach a Sunday School class for seniors.  One Sunday morning, I was sitting in the church office and could hear Warren teaching through the wall.  He was ripping things our church was doing … things I had full board approval to do … but Warren didn’t like them, and let his fellow seniors know what he really thought.

*Before I knew it, that seniors class began making demands … and their primary demand was that I should no longer be the pastor.  The board at that time all stood behind me, and the seniors left the church and started a new church in a school a mile away … with Warren as their pastor.  (He wasn’t their pastor for long, and the church disbanded within a year.)

But what Warren really wanted to do was return to some form of paid ministry, either as a pastor or a missionary.  He applied to many Christian organizations, but they all turned him down.  He married for the third time, but those two divorces, which he had to disclose on any application, killed his chances for employment.

Since he was out of options in the larger Christian community, I wonder if he wanted to take me out … hoping that somehow, people would turn to him as pastor.

Warren wasn’t necessarily a church bully, but he was a church crank.

And church cranks have the following characteristics, among others:

*They become known for their incessant, uncontrollable complaining.

*They become irritated over issues that don’t bother anyone else.

*They view themselves as leaders while few others do.  (Who wants to follow a crank?  You’ll just have more crankiness.)

*They have no idea how they sound or look to others.

*They make people anxious and even afraid.

*They sometimes make complaints that become contagious.

*They don’t intend to undermine their pastor but end up harming him anyway.

*They apologize enough to maintain their standing in the church.

Without doubt, Warren was a church crank.

What should pastors do with church cranks?

Let me share four ideas:

First, pastors should let cranks know how to register complaints.

Charles Spurgeon used to tell the cranks in his church to write down their complaints so he could better deal with them.  Of course, nobody wanted to do that!

Over the years, I devised a simple policy about complaints:

*If your complaint is about the pastor personally, then speak to him personally before you do anything else.

*If your complaint involves church policy, then speak to anyone who makes policy … usually members of the official board.

A pastor can’t command cranks not to complain, but pastors can insist that a crank’s complaints be directed to the right person.

And if the crank won’t follow the complaint policy, then he or she must be confronted and disciplined … or the crank may someday try and take out the pastor.

Second, pastors should encourage mature churchgoers to confront cranks about their behavior.

When I was in my late twenties, I was correcting a church leader twice my age … and it wasn’t easy or natural for me.

I needed church leaders and Warren’s friends to sit down and speak with him about his behavior … but either they were too afraid of him or they were afraid a confrontation might end their friendship with him.

So it fell to me as the pastor by default.

My father-in-law told me many times, “Jim, if there is any confrontation that needs to happen in your church, you’re going to have to do it.  Laymen won’t confront laymen.”

But they might … if their pastor asked them to do so.

When an older man keeps making a fool of himself inside his congregation, it may be because nobody had the courage to confront him earlier in his life.

But by the time a crank is in his sixties, how much he is really going to change?

Third, pastors need to watch their backs when cranks are around.

Because Warren usually came to me personally whenever he was upset about something, I never suspected that he would go underground and try to take me out as pastor.

But in the end, that’s exactly what he did.

Pastors can give cranks some attention, but you can’t give them too much because they’ll just want more … and because they’ll drain a pastor of energy.

Since a pastor can’t be omnipresent on a church campus, I should have asked a board member to monitor Warren’s behavior on Sundays.

We could have confronted him proactively from a position of strength rather than defending ourselves against him from a position of weakness.

Finally, church cranks usually leave a mixed legacy.

For some reason, I’ve been thinking about Warren recently, but while I can easily remember tough encounters with him, I can only recall a couple of times where we really got along.

I tried spending time with Warren.  One time, I visited the elementary school classroom where he served as teacher.  Another time, we drove to Mount Hermon together for a men’s retreat.

But I never knew when he would explode for no reason at all.

When Warren died, I was not asked to conduct his funeral, and I’m glad I wasn’t asked.  I don’t know what I would have said!

Maybe he said some encouraging words to me at times.  Maybe he told me that he was praying for me.  Maybe he told me, “That was a great sermon” after I preached.  Maybe he put his arm around me and said, “Jim, I’m so glad you’re our pastor.”

Maybe he did all those things … and more.

It’s just that I don’t have any recollection that he ever did.

 

 

 

Today is the anniversary of a day that changed my life forever.

Nine years ago this morning, after returning from a mission trip overseas, I entered the office of the church I served as pastor for an 8:00 am meeting with the official board.  We were supposed to discuss our plans for the next year’s budget.

Instead, the board announced that they had terminated our most valuable staff member: my wife.  Their sole charge against her was that she had overspent her missions and outreach budgets by a wide margin.

But she wasn’t their eventual target.  I was.  The board didn’t have enough evidence against me that they could take to the congregation for a dismissal vote, so they went after her instead, assuming I’d resign if she did.

I’ve recounted the story of the fifty-day conflict that ensued in my book Church Coup (which may be the most detailed and complete account of a pastoral termination ever written).  I revisit the story in this blog every October 24.  As one of my advisors told me, “You never want to forget what it felt like to go through that awful experience.”

The purpose of telling my story is for pastors, board members, and churchgoers to learn what to do and what not to do during a conflict with the pastor.  I am not telling my story to garner sympathy or to gain followers.  By relating my experiences, I still hope to teach.

So let me share some snapshots of what I experienced over the seven weeks of the conflict.  Many stories are outtakes from my book while some are based on information I received after the book was published in the spring of 2013.

After more than 35 years in church ministry … I still can’t believe the following events happened to me … but they did.

_______________

The board told me that they would give my wife a choice: she could resign or be fired.  They said they felt so strongly about their decision that they were all willing to resign, the implication being that if she didn’t resign, they would.

And the following week, because she didn’t resign, they did.  (To this day, I wonder who advised them to try that tactic.)

If she resigned, that would take the pressure off them … and that was her initial reaction: to just quit.

But when she thought more clearly, she didn’t believe she had done anything wrong … and she was positive she had not overspent the amount the board claimed.

So she didn’t quit immediately, as the board hoped she would.  We both decided to wait and see if we could discover the truth behind their decision first.

Kim’s dad (a former pastor and Christian university professor) told her, “If you didn’t do anything wrong, don’t quit.”  A Christian counselor who had advised us for years told me, “If she resigns, that would be a lie.  Make it a battle.”

We didn’t want to make it a battle, but the board had not made enough of a compelling case for my wife to say, “You’re right, I messed up, I will resign.”  We needed more information.

In my wildest dreams, I never thought the church board would take such drastic action.

But they did.

_______________

For years, my wife worked for a pace setting company in Silicon Valley, and she sometimes had to fire employees … but always by the book.  She was upset with the board because they had not followed any kind of protocol.  She kept telling me that her rights had been violated.

Several months ago, my wife visited that company again, and briefly told her story to the organization’s founder and president, who agreed that my wife had every right to sue the church/board for wrongful termination.

On the one hand, Paul commands Christians not to sue other Christians in 1 Corinthians 6:1-8.  I get that.

On the other hand, too many Christian organizations … especially churches … do violate the rights of staff members and pastors when they terminate them … and they do deserve to be sued.

But the separation of church and state usually protects such churches.

I wish some churches would be sued successfully … if only to teach church leaders to use biblical procedures … and due process … when they’re thinking about terminating pastors and staff members in the future.

Because if those same leaders were treated in a similar fashion at their workplaces, they would probably sue the pants off their companies.

_______________

On the night after the board met with me, they convened a meeting of the church staff to announce my wife’s termination.  Not only did the board add several more charges to their list, but such a meeting was probably illegal.

An advisor who later became my mentor told me that in our state, if my wife had been in a secular company, she could have sued them for four to six million dollars for telling her co-workers why they had fired her.

Five nights later, when my wife finally met with two board members at my request … so they could tell her to her face why they had terminated her … she told them that she could sue them for the way they had handled things.  This wasn’t merely an emotional outburst … this was based on the careful way she fired employees for years at that Silicon Valley company.

A former board member from that church told me emphatically over a period of years that the board violated the church constitution and bylaws when they terminated my wife.  The governing documents clearly stated that staff members could only be fired upon recommendation of the senior pastor to the official board.  When the church voted to approve those documents, my wife was already a staff member.

One night, while walking along the Bay on a very dark night, I ran into another former board member who told me it was going around that my wife and I were planning on suing the church.  It wasn’t true … we weren’t planning on suing anybody … but many churchgoers believe the first thing they hear without confirmation.

The church board totally bungled the way they handled things, and when my wife called them on it, we became the bad guys … and had to be destroyed.

All too often, this is the way Christians handle their conflicts.  We’re godly … they’re ungodly.

_______________

When my predecessor retired and left the church in December 2000, he and his wife moved to another state.  But they eventually moved back to California … and settled in the very city my wife and I have made our home the past six years.

My predecessor became the president of a parachurch group, and that group’s founder also lived in our city at the time.  The founder told me that several years before 2009, while they were playing golf, my predecessor told him that he was going to return to the church I was pastoring.  The founder told him, “No, you can’t do that!”  But my predecessor seemed determined.

This information tells me that the plot to get rid of me went back months … if not years … before the board acted against my wife.  As a megachurch pastor who knew my predecessor told me eleven days after the conflict surfaced, “You have no idea how much you have been undermined.”

That same pastor told me that he had heard my predecessor make the exact same charges against my wife using the exact same terms that the board used.  To what extent did my predecessor formulate or refine the charges against her?

Because my predecessor had been in ministry for years, his counsel seemed legitimate to the board.  They most likely trusted him without questioning his motives or strategies.

But in the process, the previous pastor clearly violated pastoral ethics … which the board undoubtedly knew nothing about.

A year after I left, guess who returned to the church to preach at the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day services?

That’s right … my predecessor … who had his fingers in the church board, the church staff, and the congregation for many years.

God rest his soul.

_______________

I’ve never given a moment’s thought to returning to my former church.  I served there ten-and-a-half years, resigned, and left it for good.  How wrong would it be for me to interfere in the church’s governance so many years after leaving?

Why did my predecessor even want to return?  My guess is that his Fan Club were telling him that things at the church were really bad and that only he could save the church.

In fact, several years before the conflict surfaced, I heard a report attributed to my predecessor that our church was losing attendees … when the opposite was true … and I informed the church board of the rumor without naming its source.

But we had grown steadily and were the largest Protestant church in our city.  We had a positive reputation for miles around.  We had built a new worship center.  My wife and I had both been keynote speakers at the area Sunday School Convention.  In our community, where a church of 150 stood out, we were like a megachurch.  A Navy chaplain once told me that when he was stationed near India, and knew he was going to move to our community, someone recommended that he attend our church.

Why did things seem so bad to a tiny group of people?  Because they didn’t have positions of power … and that was intentional on my part.  They were not behind our mission and vision.  They were not behind me as their pastor … and I knew it.  They were able to serve … just not in positions of influence.

But they thought that because they were founding members, they deserved preferential treatment.

One time, my predecessor visited the campus and told me that a woman from our church was calling him constantly to complain about me.  I figured as much.  While I was pleasant around her, I couldn’t let her be a leader because I didn’t trust her.

And I felt the same way about some of my predecessor’s other fans.

When people once held power in a church, but no longer do so, they will sometimes do anything to get that power back … even if they have to violate half the New Testament to do it.

_______________

One woman did her best to disguise her opposition to me, and I had to interact with her on a regular basis.  After a while, pastors develop a sixth sense about such people.

After the board and associate pastor resigned, I called two public meetings of the congregation to announce their decisions.  During one of the meetings, a friend went into the women’s restroom and this woman was crying because, she said, she was afraid they weren’t going to get rid of me.

After we left, this woman openly bragged about how she and some others in the church worked the plot that sent us packing.

I could never plot against a pastor.  I’d leave the church first.

God calls a pastor to lead and teach.  He doesn’t call anyone to force out an innocent pastor.  So why is it so easy for many Christians to join a coup against the person that God called?

If you have a good answer, I’d like to hear it.

_______________

The primary charge against my wife concerned finances.  I continue to maintain that the numbers that were verbally announced to me at the board meeting had been massaged.

For example:

*My wife had committed funds to some vendors for our annual Fall Fun Fest on Halloween … but we hadn’t yet held the event to recoup any of our expenses.

*As I mentioned in my book, several thousand dollars were mistakenly sent overseas … and undoubtedly counted against her mission budget … when she had nothing to do with that decision.

*When my wife was putting together a team for a mission trip to Eastern Europe, we had to buy the plane tickets in advance … and one person backed out.  We tried, but weren’t able to recoup the funds for one leg of his journey.

*When our mission team flew to Moldova, we brought along extra suitcases filled with items for poor people and the vulnerable children … but even though we were told in advance by an airline executive that we wouldn’t have to pay extra for each leg of our journey, we were overcharged for the suitcases anyway.

My wife or I could have explained these decisions had we been given the opportunity … but no one on the board asked us or the bookkeeper anything about these expenses.

The budgets of two unrelated ministries were thousands of dollars in the red … but to my knowledge, no one ever addressed those deficits with the leaders that managed those budgets.

No, my wife … our most effective staff member … was singled out for special mistreatment.

In the spring of 2009, I went to the board and asked for funds to visit two churches in Southern California to learn about their multi-venue services.  The board approved those funds … and then they were charged to the worship budget without the leader’s knowledge or consent … sending his pristine budget into chaos.

Were other unrelated expenses charged to my wife’s budgets without her consent or knowledge?

When I finally asked for the board’s accounting, I received something incoherent from the bookkeeper.  When my wife asked to see the board’s numbers, they did not give them to her.

When my wife finally met with the bookkeeper a month after the conflict surfaced … and the board members had all quit … the numbers told a completely different story.  When a nine-person investigative team examined matters a month after that, they concluded that “there was no evidence of wrongdoing” on our part.

Was the financial charge against my wife a bluff to prompt us both to resign?

_______________

Someone made a public charge that I mismanaged church finances.  That was an outright lie.

What’s ironic is that even after the conflict erupted … and even after I left the church … I was still a central person concerning church finances.

*When the board refinanced the loan for the worship center, I had to sign the document.  If the credit union had known the board’s plans, they might not have approved the refinancing.  When companies make loans to organizations, they want to know in advance that the leadership is going to remain stable.

I wonder what the board told them about their pastor’s long-term prospects?

*During the conflict, the church bookkeeper stopped by my house once or twice a week so I could sign checks, which I’d do on top of her car on the street.

*Months after I had left the church, I was still the key person concerning the church’s credit cards.  The bookkeeper was still contacting me, asking me to call the company and give them directions.

If I had really mismanaged funds, would I have been able to do any of those things?

When a pastor mismanages funds at church, it’s often because his own financial house is in disarray … but our personal finances were and are pristine.

It’s so easy to throw general charges around without being specific and without doing it to the face of the accused.

_______________

When the composition of a church board changes, it can throw the entire congregation off-balance.

For years, I had worked with three men on the board who were all older than me.  We had been through a lot together.  I trusted them, and their actions indicated that they trusted me.

One moved away about six months before the conflict surfaced.  He was the person who always had my back.  The other two termed out but stayed in the church.

Had even one of those men still been on the board, the coup never would have taken place.  They would either have stopped it or exposed it.

In the end, the new board in 2009 was composed entirely of people younger than me.  They lacked the experience and maturity of the older men … one of whom had experienced a church split years before in another church and would never have tolerated the tactics used by my opponents.

Someone on the board ended up leading the coup.  I always knew his identity.  May God forgive him for all the lives he harmed in his attempt at personal payback.

_______________

The board never attempted anything resembling restoration.  It was all about punishment.  As Charles Chandler from the Ministering to Ministers Foundation told me, the board members were personalizing matters.

As a Christian counselor asked me, “Where’s the redemption in all this?”

There wasn’t any pathway to redemption.  Coups don’t involve restoration.  They can be bloody or bloodless, but they are always about one thing.

Getting rid of the leader at all costs.

If you can show me where in the New Testament we find such behavior commended, I’d be grateful.

I’ve been searching for years … and I still can’t find it.

_______________

Wherever you find deceit and destruction, you find Satan.  Jesus called him “the father of lies” and “a murderer from the beginning” in John 8:44.

Based on some of the stories I’ve heard, I don’t believe Satan is centrally involved in every church conflict.  Some believe that he is.  I don’t.

I look for deceit and destruction.  Someone in ministry suggested adding “doubt” to the calculus as well.

There was definitely deceit in our conflict.  There were a lot of falsehoods going around: exaggeration, character assassination, misrepresentation, false allegations … it was all there.

And there was a lot of destruction as well.  Satan’s aim in most church conflicts is to destroy the pastor’s well being … reputation … and career … but ultimately, to destroy the church itself.

Although I was not personally destroyed, my effectiveness for future ministry was.  I don’t claim to know if that was the aim of anyone in the church.  Maybe so, maybe not.

But I do know this: Satan gained a foothold in the lives of too many of God’s people in that church.  Hatred and two-faced hypocrisy are not from God.

_______________

Most pastors who are forced out of a church are never exonerated.  Their reputations are ruined, at least inside their former church.

But I was exonerated … twice.

The first time, a consultant the transition team and I hired during the conflict issued a report that the board had acted “extremely and destructively” and that my wife and I had been abused.

The second time, an investigative team of nine people from inside the church claimed that “there was no evidence of wrongdoing” on our part.

But some people could not allow those verdicts to stand.

When I left the church in December 2009, I was told that 95% of the church supported me.  A year later, I was told that support was down to 20%.

I don’t know the truth of either percentage.  But I do know that throughout 2010, there was a whispering campaign inside my former church to pin the blame for the entire conflict on me.

When an interim pastor (a friend of my predecessor’s) came to the church several months later, he convened a meeting of the old and new boards, and made everyone who knew the truth about the conflict promise that they wouldn’t discuss it with anyone.  So when people attacked my reputation, those leaders were told not to counteract any lies and to remain silent.

But what about the people who were spreading falsehoods inside the church?  Why didn’t anyone warn them to stop destroying the reputation of their previous pastor?

Because unity is based on truth … not lies … such diversions do nothing to heal people’s souls.

Even though I urged people to stay, scores of people eventually left the church and either changed churches … changed faiths … or sat at home for years because nobody had the guts to tell the church the truth about what happened.

Just another Christian cover up.  Business as usual.

_______________

One day, I met with the rookie district minister to share my side of the conflict.  He listened politely and later helped reveal the part my predecessor played in the coup.

Several years later, when I was in New Hampshire, the DM called me out of the blue one Sunday morning to tell me that “I respect you and admire you.”

While that was nice, there was evidence to the contrary, so I didn’t know what to think.

But I had once served in the same church as an executive from that same denomination, and when he heard about the conflict … not from me … he told a friend, “[The church] owes Jim an apology.”

While I would welcome any kind of apology, nobody has ever apologized to me for their role in forcing me out of office.

Because if I’m innocent, they’re wrong … and I’ve learned that many, if not most, Christians hate to admit when they’re wrong.

_______________

This is the last blog article I plan to write on what happened to me in 2009 unless there is some major future development.

The accusations against Judge Kavanaugh brought back a truckload of hurtful memories because the same tactics used against him were used against us.

My wife and I live in Southern California and are content with our lives.

We live about an hour from our son, his wife, and our three grandsons.  I wouldn’t trade being near them for anything in this world.

Our daughter – who was so strong for her dad and mom during the conflict – still lives in the Bay Area and leads a fruitful life.  We love her dearly.

God gave me a ministry to pastors and board members who are going through conflict, and I’m grateful for all the people I’ve been able to help.

Just last year, I advised a pastor from the East Coast who was able to beat back his own church’s coup attempt.  He stayed … and his opponents left.

I pray that happens more often.

I’ve written 596 blogs over the past eight years.  I plan to write four more and then take a break … maybe a long one.

As always, thanks for reading.

 

 

 

 

One witness is not enough to convict a man accused of any crime or offense he may have committed.  A matter must be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.  Deuteronomy 19:15

Nothing hurts a pastor more than false accusations.  Nothing even comes close.

Several years ago, I spoke with a small church pastor who told me his story.  There was an opening on the finance team for one person, and somebody volunteered for the job.  The pastor did not want this person to serve, but after a while, this individual appointed himself to the position … and then began reviewing financial records that went back many years.

The finance person found small checks that were written to the pastor that did not include any notation.  The pastor said he was paid for doing non-pastoral work outside his normal duties.  The finance person claimed the pastor had embezzled funds … and then contacted the local authorities.

As you can imagine, the situation did not end well, and the pastor was forced out of office.  The pastor and his wife were devastated, not just by the lies, but by the fact the congregation did not defend them effectively.

Pastors have to deal with various kinds of false accusations.  Let me share five common ones:

First, there is hearsay. 

This occurs when someone who didn’t see or hear the pastor commit wrongdoing firsthand makes serious accusations against him anyway.

To a large degree, I am no longer in church ministry because someone stood up in a public meeting and made accusations against me that he did not witness himself.

An attorney was present on the stage and had to know that the accusations were hearsay.  He should have said, “Do you have firsthand knowledge of these accusations?  If not, please sit down or you are guilty of telling untruths.”

But the attorney went silent … as did the rest of my supporters … because they were more stunned by the accusations (nearly all of them blatantly false) than by the fact they couldn’t be corroborated.

I really think that pastors need to take time when they teach to condemn hearsay.  If you’re going to make an accusation against a pastor, that’s serious business.  You better have seen or heard something yourself and be willing to go on the record.  Telling church leaders or an entire congregation, “Well, I heard from a reliable source that the pastor said this or did that” should never be allowed in a church … but it is … all the time.

It certainly wasn’t allowed in ancient Israel (Deut. 17:6-7) … nor in the early church (Matthew 18:15-17; 2 Cor. 13:1; 1 Tim. 5:17-19).

There has to be more evidence than that.

Notice in Deuteronomy 19:15 that not only is hearsay not allowed among God’s people, but a single witness to a crime or offense is insufficient testimony to convict anyone either.  At least two or three witnesses are required.  Yes, that’s a high standard, but it’s divinely-ordained … and provides valuable protections for the accused.

Second, there are rumors.

During my first year in college, a rumor began circulating in my church that I was no longer getting along with a friend.  Since I had a day off, I decided to see if I could track down the source of the rumor.

I visited several people unannounced one day … told them the story I had heard … and asked them what they knew about the rumor.  When the day was done, I could not track down the source of the rumor.

Jesus called Satan “a liar” and “the father of lies” in John 8:44.  I honestly believe that some rumors do not have a human point of origin but are started by the devil and his angels … who probe a congregation for “a false witness who pours out lies” and “a man who stirs up dissension among brothers” (Proverbs 6:19).  How this is done I do not know.  That it is done I know all too well.

Most pastors quickly learn who the gossips are in their church … and they don’t trust them with any valuable information.

In my first pastorate in Silicon Valley, there were four older women who didn’t work and who spent a lot of time together on the telephone.  Those four women had too much power because they could make or break their pastor with their words.

Reminds me of Adele’s song Rumour Has It:

All of these words whispered in my ear,
Tell a story that I cannot bear to hear,
Just ’cause I said it, it don’t mean that I meant it,
People say crazy things,
Just ’cause I said it, don’t mean that I meant it,
Just ’cause you heard it,
Rumour has it

Third, there is misrepresentation.

When I began my ministry in one church, a board member asked to meet with me to find out what my plans were for the church’s future.  During our two hours together, it was evident that we did not agree on the church’s direction.

A few days later, I discovered that this board member had dinner with some church friends and completely distorted things I had said to him.  He heard what I said emotionally but not accurately.

What should I have done: confront the man about his lies or choose not to trust him again?

I opted for the latter approach (it would have taken an independent investigation and multiple interviews to prove what he said), and in the end, it proved to be the correct one.

How could I trust him again?  I couldn’t.

In the end, he turned on me with a vengeance with a power play designed to make him look like a victim.

After this man left the church in a huff, a woman came up to me the following Sunday and said, “It’s a shame you and So-and-So couldn’t get along.”

I bit my tongue.

After years in ministry, my wife and I came up with a policy: I won’t speak for her and she won’t speak for me.

People often came up to her on Sundays and either (a) told her something so she would tell me or (b) wanted her to explain something I had said or done.  She always had the same reply: “I can’t do that.  You’ll have to talk to him yourself.”

That way, she didn’t misrepresent me, and I didn’t misrepresent her.

Rather than speaking for others … no matter how well we know them … church leaders have to let people speak for themselves.

Fourth, there is exaggeration.

In my book Church Coup, I quoted church conflict expert Speed Leas:

“A person being charged or condemned by others should have the right to know what those charges are and [have] an opportunity to respond to them.  Denying this opportunity plays into the hands of real or potential manipulators, allows untrue or distorted information to be circulated and establishes a precedent that the way to deal with differences is to talk about rather than to talk with others.  I have also found it true that individuals who talk about others out of their presence tend to exaggerate their charges, believing they will not be quoted.”

Read that last sentence again.

Let’s imagine that I’m upset with my pastor about something, and I tell two friends over Sunday lunch how I feel.  One of my friends then tells the wife of a board member, and a few days later, that board member calls me on the phone and wants to hear what I said directly from me.

If I want to hurt the pastor or persuade the board member to become an ally, I may dress up my charge a little bit … and then ask the board member to keep everything I said “confidential.”

The board member should refuse.

Why?

Because it’s often the “confidential charges” that end up forcing out pastors from church ministry … because the pastors don’t know (a) who is making the charges against them, (b) what the charges are, and (c) aren’t given the ability to hear them firsthand so they can explain or defend themselves.

The charges spread across the church like wildfire, and by the time the pastor hears them for the first time, key leaders and members have already turned against him … without ever hearing his side of things.

Someone once made a strong charge against me that resulted in an investigation … which I welcomed.  When my accuser recounted their story, the person made three exaggerations that I was able to refute.  I’m convinced this person didn’t exaggerate to hurt me … they knew I’d share my side of things … but to save face because the accusations themselves were so flimsy.

If I could choose one major sin that churches commit when a pastor is accused of wrongdoing, it’s not giving the pastor due process to face his accusers and defend himself. 

And for some reason, the more some people exaggerate a pastor’s offenses … or how he made them feel … the less likely it is that the pastor will be given a forum for explaining his actions.

So, in many churches, exaggerating charges against a pastor pays off … but it never should.

Finally, there is speculation.

Speculation occurs when God’s people aren’t given enough information about a pastor … especially why he’s under attack or why he’s departed.

When I left my last church nearly nine years ago, I did not share with the congregation the specific reasons why I was leaving.  The board members and associate pastor had all resigned weeks before, and they were out there pounding on me pretty good, but the vast majority of the church did not know why I had left.

So people began making things up.

The worst rumor was that my wife was having an affair and that I was having an affair.  My wife was on staff and worked down the hall from me.  We had one car and rode together to church and back every day.  We were then and are now madly in love with each other … even after 43 years of marriage.

Who started that speculation … and who allowed it to pass through the church without correction?

I believe that when false accusations spread through a church, the official church board has the responsibility to protect the pastor … his family … and the church by refuting those accusations as quickly and as clearly as they can.

This should be done both if the pastor is still ministering in that church or if the pastor has recently departed.

If a pastor is truly innocent of the charges going around about him, and the board refutes those charges, they are not only protecting the pastor’s reputation and future livelihood … they are also protecting their own congregation.

Because the longer a pastor serves in one place, the more the pastor and the church become identified together, as in “That’s Pastor Bill’s church.”

Because if Pastor Bill is forced out of office … the church may eventually collapse.

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I’ve dealt with five types of false accusations against a pastor.

But what should God’s people do with false accusers themselves?

Moses put it this way in Deuteronomy 19:16-20:

If a malicious witness takes the stand to accuse a man of a crime, the two men involved in the dispute must stand in the presence of the Lord before the priests and the judges who are in office at the time.  The judges must make a thorough investigation, and if the witness proves to be a liar, giving false testimony against his brother, then do to him as he intended to do to his brother.  You must purge the evil from among you.  The rest of the people will hear of this and be afraid, and never again will such an evil thing be done among you.

Let me make five quick observations:

First, malicious witnesses have always existed among God’s people.  They’re in every culture … and in every church.  Whether it’s to get attention or to get revenge against someone, they will destroy individuals and families if their charges are automatically believed.  But according to Scripture, they must first be tested.

Second, God mediates His judgment to human leaders, in this case, “the priests and the judges.”  In our day, this would likely refer to the official board.  These individuals may be fallible, but God uses them anyway.

Third, the judges must investigate a witnesses’ charges and determine if the witness is truthful or lying.  If a witness proves to be lying, then they are to receive the same punishment the accused would have received.

Why don’t we ever do this in our churches?  Why are the false accusers … and those who have successfully destroyed a pastor’s reputation … allowed to not only stay in a church, but sometimes be promoted to even greater leadership positions?

What is wrong with us?

Some Christians say, “Oh, we need to forgive each other so we can all move on.”  But to forgive false accusers when they’ve never been confronted or repented of their sin?  Read Jesus’ words in Luke 17:3-4 where He talks about not forgiving certain people.

Fourth, God considers false accusations … not just against a leader, but against anyone in His covenant community … to be evil … and He says it twice.  It is evil to lie about someone … to harm their reputation … and in Israel’s case, lying about someone could result in the death of the accused.  (See Deuteronomy 17:6-7.)

Finally, if God’s people would institute a process like this, maybe we’d have far fewer false accusations among God’s people … and directed toward God’s leaders.  “The rest of the people will hear of this and be afraid, and never again will such an evil thing be done among you.”

“Never again will such an evil thing be done among you.”

How I love those words.

My wife and I have been searching for a church home in our area for months.  We’ve attended scores of churches but can’t find a fit.

We aren’t looking for perfection, but we are so uncomfortable sitting through most church services that we’re in despair that we’ll ever find another home church.

Kim and I visited still another church yesterday.

The congregation is a church plant that meets at an elementary school.

When Kim and I arrived at the school, I was shocked at how few cars were in the parking lot.  The Mother Church, about thirty minutes away, is a megachurch so I would have thought that the new church would have had a larger core group.

The church had the requisite banners, donuts, and coffee before the service.  The atmosphere was anything but festive.  When Kim and I entered the small auditorium, I was shocked again at how few people were present at the starting time of 10:30 am.  We sat in a back row.  Quickly looking at the makeup of the congregation, I whispered to Kim, “We don’t fit here.”

Kim later told me she wanted to leave multiple times.

The worship leader was a woman wearing weird glasses and although she had a good voice, hardly anybody was singing, even as the room gained more worshipers.  As she sang, she waved her hands in strange ways.  I felt very anxious.

The church celebrated its one-year anniversary a week or two ago, and in my view, they aren’t doing well.  The pastor talked about his three-year vision of hundreds of attendees and dozens of small groups (possibly reflecting the expectations of the Mother Church), but based on what happened yesterday, I don’t see that occurring.  At one point, I counted less than fifty people in the room.

The auditorium was mostly darkened with light on the stage coming from the back of the room.  The pastor told us that he’s thirty years old, and when he set up his podium to preach, it was tilted diagonally and positioned out of the light.  As he spoke, he pranced all over the stage … into the light, then out of the light, then into the light … throughout the whole service.  He spoke for a solid hour.

At one point, he walked down our aisle and stood near Kim, who was seated a few feet away.  We both squirmed in our seats.

This is the third church in a row we’ve attended where the speaker talks as fast as possible.  The first two churches ended up being charismatic churches (the pastor at the second church sang in tongues for a few minutes before his sermon).  I don’t think the church we attended today is charismatic, but I can’t be sure.   The websites of most churches don’t identify their worship style or their distinctive beliefs.

When we entered the auditorium, we were handed a folder of “sermon notes.”  While my folder had some notes inside, Kim’s was blank.  The outside of the folder contained one word: MESSY.

And that pretty much described the sermon.  It was a mess.  While the pastor read some notes that he had included in the folder, I couldn’t discern any structure … or many coherent thoughts.

But that wasn’t the main problem.

The pastor spoke in a stream-of-consciousness style … as fast as he could.  So fast that he could not, in my view, think about the next thing he was going to say.  This resulted in his repeating himself over and over again:

“If you’ve been through a divorce … if you’ve been separated recently … if you have financial problems …” And a few minutes later, he’d utter the same lines.

About 2/3 of the way through his sermon, the pastor told us that when his child was born last December, his wife contracted postpartum depression, and he said he’s been having a hard time handling their child’s teething episodes as well.

And I thought to myself, “Today’s sermon is titled ‘Messy?’  I don’t like saying this, but you’re a mess.”

He began talking faster and faster and louder and louder.  I thought he was going to self-destruct in front of us.  When he ended his sermon, he ranted loudly during his prayer.  At one point, I softly cried, “God, make it stop.  Make it stop.”

The pastor offered two responses after his sermon, and evidently some people raised their hands for salvation and some kind of dedication, although I could not follow his train of thought.

When the sermon mercifully ended, Kim and I practically ran out of the auditorium, and on the way to the car I told her, “He’s sick.  That man is not well.  He’s ready to have a breakdown.”

I don’t think I’ve ever said that about a pastor after a sermon before.

I went to the church website to see if they offer any recordings of the pastor’s sermons, but they don’t.

A well-known pastor in nearby Chino Hills committed suicide recently.  He was only thirty years old and left behind a wife and two children.  Even though he received months – if not years – of psychological care, he killed himself anyway … inside the church building.  I’ve been thinking about that situation for weeks.

So maybe I’m reading that tragedy into yesterday’s service … I don’t know.  While I’m not a mental health expert, I’m very concerned about this pastor, and fear that he’s headed for a breakdown, if he wasn’t having one during yesterday’s service.

I was so upset by the service – especially the sermon – that I wanted to break into tears on our short drive home.

I’d like to ask my readers two questions:

What, if anything, should I do about this situation? 

Let it go?  Talk to someone at the Mother Church?  Just pray about it?  We’re certainly not returning.

Is it trendy for pastors to speak at a lightning speed?  If so, why? 

It makes my wife and me highly anxious.

Thanks so much for any counsel you can offer me.

I once met the president of the San Francisco Giants while walking to my church.

Nearly twenty years ago, my wife and daughter and I moved from Glendale, Arizona to a city near Oakland, California.  I had been asked by a pastor friend to be his associate pastor with the idea that when he retired, I would become the senior/lead pastor.

The day we arrived in town, a vice president for Safeway, who attended the church, dropped dead of a heart attack.

The executive’s memorial service was scheduled in the early afternoon after Sunday services, and as I walked from home toward the church, I found myself walking parallel to Peter Magowan, the president and managing general partner of my favorite baseball team, the San Francisco Giants, who was walking into the church.  (The following year, he would be named Sports Executive of the Year.)  Magowan was also the former CEO of Safeway and the current chairman of their board and had worked with the vice president.  At the time, Magowan’s group was putting the finishing touches on Pac Bell Park, the Giants’ new stadium, now termed At&T Park.

I greeted him by saying, “Hello, Mr. Magowan.”  I then told him that I had been at Candlestick Park the day before to watch the Giants play the Dodgers.  The Dodgers rallied in the ninth inning to beat the Giants, and I told Magowan that it was a tough loss.  He replied, “Tell me about it.  I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

Over the years, I’ve had the privilege … as just an average fan … of meeting many well-known people connected to baseball, mostly by asking for their autograph.  Intellectually, I know that baseball players are just ordinary individuals, but since I started collecting baseball cards in 1960 (at the age of six), I have admired baseball players, and secured the signatures of many players I first encountered on cards … and there is something magical about that experience.

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I began collecting autographs at the Grand Hotel in Anaheim, California in 1967, when I was thirteen years old.  The visiting American League teams all stayed at the Grand … except for the Kansas City A’s, who stayed at the Jolly Roger Inn.  From 1967 through 1972, I usually went to the hotel at least once per series.

The Grand could be a tough place to get autographs because the bellhops didn’t want any collectors inside the lobby.  Most of the time, we’d have to wait outside for the players to emerge as they took a taxi or the bus to what was then called Anaheim Stadium.

Around 1971, I began going to hotels in Los Angeles with friends to get the autographs of National League Teams.  Most stayed at the famous Biltmore Hotel in Pershing Square (my parents both attended The Bible Institute of Los Angeles across the square from the Biltmore in the early 1950s), while the Atlanta Braves stayed at the Sheraton West near MacArthur Park and the Giants stayed at the Ambassador Hotel (where Robert Kennedy was shot).  On several occasions, after getting autographs at the Biltmore, my friend Steve and I would walk uphill to Dodger Stadium for that night’s game.

When I became a pastor, I always hoped that a current or former major league baseball player would attend my church, but in my last church, I did have the privilege of having Irv Eatman, former 11-year NFL veteran and an offensive line coach for the Oakland Raiders, in my church.  He was the only person who wore a suit every Sunday!

I have hundreds of stories about getting the autographs of baseball players, whether at hotels, the ballparks, spring training, a golf tournament, or a card show.  But most of the time, I’d hand the player some cards, he’d sign them, he’d hand them back, I’d say, “Thank you,” and that would be it.  Sometimes, I was too intimidated to say anything to the player at all.

But as the following stories indicate, on occasion, I’d have a more extended conversation with a current or former player, such as:

Steve Garvey, San Diego, 1972.

The Dodgers used to stay at the Town & Country Inn in San Diego.  It’s a sprawling complex (my wife and I stayed there for an anniversary several years ago).  The Dodgers stayed at the back of the complex in a large tower.  They would come down an elevator and either walk through the complex to get a taxi at the front or wait for the bus in the back parking lot.

One Saturday, my friends Steve and Terri accompanied me to the hotel, and early in the afternoon, we got the autograph of Steve Garvey, who was at the time a third baseman who couldn’t throw.  Garvey and his wife Cyndy were sitting by the pool, and after we got his autograph, they began talking with us … for about twenty minutes.  They were both so nice that we couldn’t believe it.  (By contrast that day, Dodger pitcher Al Downing yelled at us when we asked him for his autograph … and he was known as Gentleman Al.)

Garvey became the National League Most Valuable Player two years later, in 1974, and I watched him hit two home runs against the Pirates in the final League Championship Game at Dodger Stadium that same year.  Garvey was a fan favorite in Los Angeles, and often came through in the clutch, especially in All-Star games, playoff games, and the World Series.

Garvey worked hard at pleasing his fans and was always a great signer.

Many years later, I saw Garvey before an exhibition game at UC Berkeley, and I told him that I thought he should be in the Hall of Fame.  He smiled and said, “Thanks.”

Cyndy went on to become a TV hostess and actress.

Six years later, I took this photo at the same hotel:

Davey Lopes, San Diego, 1978.

I once had the pennant hopes for the Los Angeles Dodgers in the front seat of my car.

In 1978, the All-Star Game was held in San Diego, and my friends Steve and John went with me to the Sheraton Harbor Hotel to get autographs the day before the game.  (It was quite a day.  George Brett was actually nice … I told Willie Stargell a story … and I had my only encounter with Howard Cosell.)

Players from both leagues would emerge from the hotel and take taxis over to the ballpark, but when Davey Lopes – second baseman for the Dodgers – came out, all the cabs were gone.  Thinking quickly, I told Lopes, “I’ll take you to the ballpark,” and after sizing up me and my friends, he said, “Okay, let’s go.”

During the fifteen minutes it took to get to the ballpark, the three of us talked to Lopes about the Dodgers’ pennant chances.  Lopes initially asked if there was anything we wanted him to sign, and he was very gracious.  Since he was leading off for the National League the next day, I told him what kind of pitches Frank Tanana, the starting pitcher for the American League, threw.  (It didn’t help.  Tanana got Lopes out.)

The whole time I was driving Lopes to the ballpark, I kept thinking to myself, “Drive perfectly.  You have the Dodgers’ leadoff hitter in your passenger seat.”

When we got to the ballpark, there were thousands of cars already there for the Monday festivities, but because Lopes was a player, we were escorted right to the front, where I dropped him off.

The Dodgers went on to win the National League pennant in 1978, only to be defeated the second year in a row by the dreaded New York Yankees in the World Series.  Lopes hit three home runs and knocked in seven runs in that Series.  I attended the last game at Dodger Stadium – Goose Gossage got the save – but I got to see the little second baseman who had been in my car hit a home run.

Pete Falcone, San Francisco, 1984.

Pete Falcone was a left-handed pitcher for the San Francisco Giants, St. Louis Cardinals, New York Mets, and the Atlanta Braves in the late 1970s and early 1980s.

At the time, I pastored a church in Santa Clara, California … in the heart of Silicon Valley.  Fridays were my day off, and that usually meant driving north to Daly City and taking BART to downtown San Francisco so I could get autographs of the visiting teams who stayed at the Westin St. Francis Hotel across from Union Square.

On this particular day, a fellow collector named Bob met me in the lobby of the St. Francis (it was a GREAT place to get autographs because nobody from the hotel ever bugged us) and we got Falcone’s autograph.  We started talking, Falcone found out I was a pastor, and he told me he was a Christian who attended a small church of thirty people in the Atlanta area.

The next thing we knew, Falcone invited both Bob and I to lunch at the restaurant in the back of the hotel.

I should have gone home and recorded as much of the conversation as I could remember, but I didn’t.  But Falcone treated us both very well … like men … and it was really cool.  At one point, we both lamented the passing of Keith Green, a Christian music artist who had died several years before in a plane crash.

After lunch, Falcone left us tickets for that night’s game.  After at least a 90-minute ride home, I loaded my brother-in-law Kevin and my four-year-old son Ryan in my 1963 Chevy Nova and headed up the 101 Freeway toward Candlestick Park.  Caught in bumper-to-bumper traffic in the fast lane, the three cars in front of me collided, and to avoid them, I quickly swerved my car to the left … and hit a chain link fence that served as a barrier.  When my head thrust forward, I chipped my two front teeth on the steering wheel.  (Those who were in the collision were all bloodied and walking around in a daze.)

I was in too much pain to proceed to the ballpark, so I turned around … found a dentist the next morning who capped my teeth temporarily … and called Falcone at the hotel and told him why I didn’t show up.

When the Braves next came to town, I said hi to him on the field.  That was the last time I ever saw him … but I’ve never forgotten his kindness.

Luke Appling and Minnie Minoso, Oakland, 1987/1988.

In the late 1980s, the Equitable Group sponsored a series of Old Timers games all over Major League Baseball.  I always looked forward to those games because it meant that former players would show up … and since some of them didn’t answer their mail, the only way to get their autographs was in person.

For example, Jack Smalling, who has compiled a list of current and former players’ addresses for years, once listed the top ten players he couldn’t find.  One of them was Jim Ray Hart, former third baseman for the San Francisco Giants.  Hart turned up before an Old Timers game at the Hyatt Hotel in Oakland, and he signed … and smeared … every card I gave him.  (He didn’t mean to smear the cards.  He probably hadn’t signed anything in so long that he didn’t know autograph protocol.)

Anyway, one Saturday afternoon, my son Ryan and I drove up to the Hyatt Hotel in Oakland to try and get the autographs of the Old Timers who were staying there.  (Fifteen years later, I would be the pastor of a church five minutes away from the site of that hotel … after it had been bulldozed down.)

That night, while waiting in the small lobby of the Hyatt, former White Sox greats Luke Appling and Minnie Minoso came into the lobby and sat down.  There were a few collectors there, and both men signed everything they were handed.  And then they started conversing with us … just like we were regular people.

Luke Appling, a shortstop with the Chicago White Sox his whole career, was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1964.  (I knew a pastor’s wife who babysat for Appling’s family when she was a teenager.)  Minnie Minoso was one of my father’s favorite players.

Minnie Minoso Signed Cards 2 001

Once again, I wish I had gone home and written down what these two men said, but the message I received from them was, “I like baseball fans, and you guys are fans, so let’s talk baseball.”  Few current or former players convey that attitude anymore.

Let me tell you about the camaraderie I once enjoyed with other collectors.  That night, I left the hotel without getting the autograph of Joe Black, a pitcher for the Dodgers from the early 1950s.  I asked a collector if he would get Black’s autograph for me if he saw him, and he said he would.  The next time I saw that collector, he gave me all six cards back … signed.

Alvin Dark, Garden Grove, California, 1980.

Alvin Dark was the shortstop for the famed 1951 New York Giants who beat the Dodgers in a three-game playoff under manager Leo Durocher, who named him team captain.  He was also the Giants’ shortstop when they swept the Indians in the 1954 World Series.

After his solid playing career was over, Dark became the manager of the San Francisco Giants in the early 1960s, managing Hall of Famers Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Orlando Cepeda, and Juan Marichal, among many others.

He also went on to manage the World Champion Oakland A’s in 1974 and the San Diego Padres a few years later.

Dark, who was a Christian, had just written a book called, When in Doubt, Fire the Manager.  The head of our church’s men’s group asked Dark … who was living about an hour south of our city near San Diego … to speak for our men’s group.

Fortunately, the head of the men’s group knew I was a huge baseball fan, and he arranged for me to sit by Dark for the evening.

Dark’s Oakland A’s beat my Los Angeles Dodgers in the World Series in 1974, and I remembered watching player after player hit weak ground balls to Bert Campaneris (the A’s shortstop) or Sal Bando (their third baseman).  I asked Dark about it.

He told me, “I told our pitchers to throw the ball on the outside corner.  If a pitch was called a strike, I’d tell them to throw it another inch outside.”  Time after time, I watched as the Dodgers’ right-handed batters tried to pull those outside pitches and grounded out easily.  It was all part of a strategy!

Even though it was still painful to watch, we watched highlights of the 1974 World Series and received expert commentary from the A’s manager, who signed all the items I had … including his book … after the banquet.

That was a long time ago!

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As I mentioned at the beginning of this article, I lived near Oakland, California during my last church ministry … and used to see the current manager of the Oakland A’s all the time.

Back in 2000, the A’s and Yankees were playing a best-of-five series in the American League Divisional Series for the right to go to the World Series.  The Yankees won Game 5 in Oakland and it was heartbreaking.

The Saturday after Game 5, my wife and I were working in our garage when I saw A’s manager Art Howe walking his two dogs across the street.  I had been told that he lived in the apartment complex across from us, and there he was.  My wife told me, “He looks so sad.”  I said, “He thought he was going to manage the A’s tonight in the World Series.  Instead, they’re at home and the Yankees are in the Series … again.”

After that, I saw Art Howe from time-to-time in our community.  I once passed an ice cream parlor and he was sitting next to the window.  One time, I was backing out of a parking place, turned around, and Howe was waiting to take my place.  He smiled and waved at me.

If you’re read the book Moneyball or seen the movie, Howe was the manager during that period in A’s history.

When I first started collecting autographs, it was like torture for me to overcome my introversion and ask a player to sign something.  Over time, I learned to become more extroverted while approaching players because that was the only way I was ever going to get anything signed.  I have always tended to defer to people who have a greater social status than I do, so I’m grateful for those few times that someone connected to baseball treated me like a human being.

I’ll share some other stories soon.

 

 

 

 

 

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