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Archive for the ‘Church Health and Conflict’ Category

Most mornings, while working out on my treadmill, I run to classic rock while watching ESPN.

This morning, I saw highlights from last night’s Celtics-Heat playoff game.

Paul Pierce of the Celtics bulldozed over another player during overtime and was called for a foul … and fouled out of the game.

But did he do it?  According to Pierce’s body language, he did NOTHING wrong and shouldn’t have been called for any foul.

Then LeBron James backed into a defender on the other side of the court and both of them fell down.  When James was called for the foul – and he too fouled out – he couldn’t believe it.

It was the defender’s fault … or the ref’s fault … or the fault of Boston Garden (which seems to make “homers” out of refs) … or the fault of those little green leprechauns that inhabit the Garden.

But LeBron James’ fault?  No way.

There was a show on TV when I was a kid called Romper Room.  Believe it or not, I had the show’s theme song on record.  The chorus went like this:

I always do what’s right

I never do anything wrong

I’m a Romper Room do bee

A do bee all day long

Seems to me the first two lines of that song perfectly encapsulate the attitudes of millions of people in our country … especially the second line: “I never do anything wrong.”

A Christian counselor friend of mine once told me that we’re raising a generation of sociopaths.  The latest estimates are that 4% of the population has anti-social personality disorder (the new term for sociopathy), characterized by a complete lack of conscience.

As Dr. Archibald Hart told me after class one day, the sociopath feels no anxiety before doing wrong and feels no guilt afterward.  This person lacks a moral core.  While the sociopath can be outwardly charming, he or she is inwardly manipulative.

And what does this person want more than anything else in life?

To win.

The sociopath will do anything to win.

They choose targets … people who threaten them or who they think are weak … and then bully them or abuse them or lie to them just to watch them squirm.

You’ll find these people running countries … and supervising employees at work … and in families … and in politics … and even in your neighborhood.  (Dr. Martha Stout’s excellent book The Sociopath Next Door asks this question on its cover: Who is the devil you know?)

Although a layman cannot properly diagnose someone as a sociopath – it takes a well-trained psychologist to do so – we can at least suspect someone of having the condition if they demonstrate certain symptoms.

The reason I bring this up is that the last place we’d expect to find a sociopath is in a Christian church.  After all, isn’t the confession of sin a requirement for both conversion and spiritual growth?

As 1 John 1:8 puts it, “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.”  Verse 10 goes on to say, “If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word has no place in our lives.”

And yet sociopaths slip into church leadership … and onto church staffs … and behind church pulpits … fooling EVERYBODY along the way.

I’ve worked with a handful of church leaders that I suspected fit this description.

They were charismatic individuals.

They ignored authority.

They made the same mistakes over and over again … and didn’t learn anything from them.  (One leader kept getting traffic tickets, and instead of changing his behavior, he’d fight the tickets in court … and win.)

They put on a facade of charm for their adoring public … while engaging in sabotage behind the scenes.  (Whenever I had to correct their behavior, they would tell their fans, who would become upset with me.)

But what I’m most concerned about isn’t the presence of sociopaths in churches.

I’m most concerned about the fact that we’re raising sociopaths in Christian homes.

Let me give you an example.

Imagine that you have a daughter named Jane, who is in the fourth grade.

One day, Jane’s teacher calls you at work and tells you that Jane’s grades are poor and that she’s been misbehaving in class.  The teacher wants to meet with you … right away.

So you meet with Jane’s teacher, who shows you copies of Jane’s incomplete and poorly done assignments … and shows you indisputable proof via surveillance that Jane’s behavior in class is out of control.

Once upon a time, you and Jane’s teacher would collaborate together and come up with a plan for dealing with Jane’s behavior.  Call it a PTA … a parent teacher alliance.  With a strong alliance between school and home, Jane would be forced to change her behavior.

But what happens in our day?  You become incensed because Jane’s teacher doesn’t view your daughter as being perfect … so you blame Jane’s teacher for Jane’s misbehavior … as well as the school … and the curriculum … and Jane’s classmates … as well as President Bush.  (Can you believe that some people are still blaming him for problems in our country, even though he hasn’t been president for almost four years?)

Instead of forming a PTA, you have just formed a PCA (parent-child alliance) with your daughter and against her teacher … and by extension, every other authority that will come into her life.

And what will happen to Jane?  She may grow intellectually … and vocationally … but she won’t be able to grow emotionally or spiritually.

Why not?

Because you, as her parent, will not let her learn from her mistakes.

Could this be a reason why so many college graduates are living at home with their parents?  Just asking.

I’ll have more to say on this matter next time …

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this matter.

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In the minds of many people, two words rarely go together.

Pastors … and sin.

Since pastors preach against sin, some people come to believe that their pastor is sinless … or at least nearly so.

But when you hang around groups of pastors, as I have for years, you discover that pastors are sinners, too.

They’re just better at hiding their sins than most people.

If you had to guess one sin that pastors commit more than any other, which one would you choose?

Greed?

Sloth?

Wrath?

Lust?

Envy?

Gluttony?

The six words I just mentioned constitute six of the seven deadly sins.  Like all humans, pastors are susceptible to any and all of these shortcomings.

But I left one sin out.

In his classic work Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis devoted an entire chapter to this sin.  In fact, he called it “The Great Sin.”

Know what it is?

It’s pride.

Lewis said that pride is the complete anti-God state of mind.  Pride is preoccupation with yourself, the belief that you are superior to other people … even when there’s no basis for it.

We all struggle with this issue – even pastors.

Let me share with you three ways that pastors display pride … sometimes unknowingly.  I’ll share two more ways next time.

And I include myself in everything that I write.

First, pastors love to hear themselves talk.

I guess most people do … but more than in most professions, pastors are paid to talk.

We expect pastors to preach from the pulpit.  What we don’t expect is for pastors to preach in private settings.

So try this experiment: if you ever find yourself in a social setting with a pastor, notice what happens.

Regardless of who holds the floor initially, see if the pastor eventually holds court … and if he determines the topic for discussion.

Winston Churchill once volunteered his idea of a good dinner: “to discuss a good topic – with myself as chief conversationalist.”

That’s true of pastors, too … although they could probably learn more by listening.

Why are pastors like this?  I’m not sure.  In my own case, I’m not very good at small talk, so if I can steer a conversation around to a larger issue, I’m more comfortable joining in … and that may be true of other pastors, too.

Second, pastors are competitive with their peers.

The day Magic Johnson announced he had AIDS, I was invited to meet with a group of pastors for some strategy sessions at a mountain cabin.  (There were 15 or so of us there.)

Someone asked the pastors to go around the room and share how their Easter services had gone.  Let me offer a typical response:

“Well, we had 757 people out for Easter this year, which was one-third more than we had last year.  God’s Spirit is really moving at our church.  I sense that we’re ready for a breakthrough.  Since I came to the church two years ago, our attendance and giving have doubled, and we’re reaching our community for Christ like never before.”

By the way, all the pastors answered the question in a similar fashion.  Easter went great … we’re really growing … I’m on top of the world … God is blessing.  (In some cases, I knew better.)

All except for me.  Nobody asked me how Easter went at our church … and nobody noticed that nobody asked me.  It was just as well.

I couldn’t compete with the big boys.

When pastors get together in larger groups, there’s a pecking order.  It’s determined by who dresses the best, or who has the most commanding presence, or who has seniority, or who has the largest church.  Pastors are never completely honest when they’re in a larger group of their peers.  They have a way of displaying their feathers.

Put them with a group of Christian psychologists, and their responses would be completely different.

Or if you placed one pastor in a group with two other pastors, they’d be much more honest … and that pecking order all but disappears.

Pastors aren’t nearly as competitive when they’re with doctors or attorneys or professional athletes.  In fact, pastors tend to be deferential toward people in those professions.

But when they’re with their peers, the competitive juices start flowing.  This is why I once heard J. I Packer say that pastors are a lot like manure.  When they’re all spread out, they do a lot of good, but when they get together, it’s just one big stink.

Third, pastors have a need to be know-it-alls. 

Pastors have a high need to be right.  They love to straighten people out.

I suppose it comes from their training.  When I was in seminary, we had to define and memorize specific biblical and theological terms … and Greek verb tenses … and dates in church history … and the beliefs of various world religions and cults … and what the Bible said about a host of social issues.

In most cases, my professors were absolutely convinced that their views were right and everybody else’s views … even those of fellow faculty members … were wrong.  It was the job of the professors (who held the right views) to correct the students (who held the wrong views).  So when we students were called to various churches, we modeled the attitudes of our professors.

We held the right views, while others held the wrong views.

It’s easy to absorb that attitude when you hang around a seminary for five years, as I did … which is why some Christian experts believe that a pastor’s most effective years begin only after he starts unlearning all the stuff he learned in seminary.

This need to be right is like a reflex action among pastors.  Some learn how to disagree with others graciously, while others run around trying to straighten out everybody with whom they disagree.

I believe that pastors continue to struggle with pride until they suffer greatly or are deeply wounded with their own unique “thorn in the flesh.”

I’ll write more about this theme next time.

Your thoughts?

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The key to preventing conflict in a group – whether it’s your family, your workplace, your neighborhood, or your church – is understanding the role that anxiety plays.

This is what family sytems theory teaches.

In my last post, I mentioned a woman named Ethel who is undergoing overwhelming anxiety in her own life.

Then she comes to church on Sunday … hoping to receive encouragement and comfort … and discovers that the music director has left the church without explanation.

With her anxiety already sky-high, she begins doing what all anxious people do.

She complains … to anyone who will listen.

The church is now in a dangerous place.

There are two kinds of anxiety in a church: acute or chronic.

Acute anxiety is crisis generated.  When the giving is falling behind budget, or there’s an influx of new members, or there’s a major shift in lay leadership, acute anxiety appears.

In a healthy congregation, the events causing acute anxiety are acknowledged and addressed so the anxiety is eventually abated.  People regain their perspective and are able to control their reactivity.

But chronic anxiety is embedded deep within the church system.  It’s a condition that never ends.  Even the slightest change in a church triggers reactive behavior.

To obtain relief from this anxiety, chronically anxious members act out their anxiety by making accusations, exaggerating events, and spreading rumors.  They’re uncomfortable with the way they feel, and so attempt to displace their anxiety onto others.

Imagine that you’re a member of the church I mentioned above.  The music director is no longer on the staff, and Ethel comes to you after the service to complain.

She’s angry with the pastor for not getting along with the music director.

She’s angry with several people on the music team she suspects pushed out the music director.

She’s angry that the music director is gone because she liked both him and his music.

What should you do?

First, let Ethel know that you can’t do anything about her complaints.

Second, encourage her to speak with the pastor or board members and share her concerns with them.  In fact, offer to go with her to speak with them if necessary.

Finally, let Ethel know that while she has the right to speak with a leader about this issue, she does not have the right to complain indiscriminately to others in the church.

Because Ethel wants someone to listen to her, validate her feelings, and take away all her anxiety.

But if you agree with her complaints – and throw in a few of your own – you have assumed her anxiety and you are dangerously close to becoming divisive.

It is not divisive to disagree with church leaders mentally.

It is not divisive to disagree with church leaders to their faces.

It is not divisive to disagree with church leaders when talking to a friend or family member.

But it is divisive to pool complaints with others … because people who share gripes are ripe to form an unofficial coalition.  And if they can find a leader … or a complainer offers to take on the task … they will start meeting in private.

And then they will put the needs of their group ahead of the church and start making demands.

And then you have division.

Church consultant Peter Steinke writes:

“It is the chronically anxious individuals in the church family who are apt to conduct a ‘search and destroy mission.’  They will not hesitate to impose their wills on others.  They make hostages of their gifts, attendance, and participation.  They employ their stewardship as brinksmanship.  Their ultimate threat is to run away from home – transferring or terminating their membership if an action is not rescinded, a person is not removed, or a demand is not satisfied.  These tactics are effective in church families that place a premium on peace and harmony.”

If those who are upset about the departure of the music director would speak with church leaders directly, they might discover the real reason why he left … which might alleviate their anxiety.

But if they don’t engage the leaders, and decide to take matters into their own hands, they’ll just make a mess of things and trigger even more anxiety in their congregation.

If and when those with complaints share their concerns with the church’s leadership, the way the leaders respond is crucial.  The key to church health is how the leaders respond whenever anxiety surfaces.

The more threatened the leaders feel, the more the congregation can be disrupted.

The more calmly the leaders manage anxiety, the safer people feel.

According to conflict expert Ronald Richardson, it’s the job of effective leaders to help keep down the anxiety level in the emotional system of the congregation.

And effective leaders do this best by managing their own anxiety.

When my wife and I were first married, we lived behind a church.

One Sunday, we visited that church.

As soon as we walked into the worship center, you could cut the tension with a knife.  Seriously.

The pastor stood up and gave announcements for twenty minutes.  The church was making changes in their scheduling, and he wanted to explain the changes to the congregation.

Good move.

But he spent so much time explaining that he became defensive.  I could sense that his explanation wasn’t working.

It wasn’t long before he was looking for another job.

I don’t know who, if anyone, was the human culprit in that situation.  But I do know that unchecked anxiety assumed control of that church.  I could feel it … and I was an outsider.

People probably blamed the pastor for things.

He probably blamed some board members and powerbrokers.

But most likely, the leaders allowed anxiety to run amok … and when that happens, chronically anxious individuals either leave the church or try and push out key leaders … usually the pastor.

The lesson is simple:

If you’re a parent, keep the atmosphere in your home calm.

If you’re a boss, make sure and manage the anxiety in your workplace.

If you’re a church leader, do what you can to keep anxiety from spilling out into your congregation.

Because as anxiety goes up in an organization, conflict escalates.

But when anxiety goes down, so does conflict.

What have you witnessed along this line?

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In Simon and Garfunkel’s second album, Sounds of Silence, Paul Simon sang these lyrics with his partner on their song “Blessed” :

“Blessed is the stained glass, window pane glass,

Blessed is the church service, makes me nervous …”

In my last article, I mentioned that there are many elements during a worship service that can make people feel uncomfortable: the music, the greeting time, the sermon, the pastor’s voice … all kinds of things.

And I used the worship service as an example because it’s the most visible expression of what a church is about.  During the worship time, a church is at its best.  For a pastor, his whole week culminates in what happens during the 75 minutes or so when the congregation gathers together to focus on God.

But before, during, or after that worship experience, the anxiety level in a church can rise significantly.

And when anxiety rises, conflict escalates.

Let me give you an example.

Imagine that you attend a local church service this Sunday.

During the singing time – without introduction or explanation – a man who has cheated people out of investments sings a vocal selection … and most of the people in the church know his reputation.

How will people feel?  Most who know him will feel upset … angry … ticked off … even violated.  Why?

Because they instinctively believe that only people who are walking with the Lord should stand on that stage.

The anxiety level in that church is going to rise immediately … and people are going to react.

A few might get up and leave the worship center.

Others will write a scathing note to the pastor on their response card.

Still others will write a note to the person next to them (along the lines of “how can they let him sing?”) or whisper a similar statement instead.

After the service, some people will seek out the pastor or the music director to complain.

When the pastor gets home, he’ll receive some phone calls or emails from irate worshipers.

Because when people feel anxious, they react … and complain to others.

For years, I planned Sunday services every week with a team of gifted individuals.

We wanted people to focus on the Lord and the truth of His Word … but we didn’t want people to become complacent, either.

So from time-to-time, we’d take some risks during the service.

Most of the time, the risks worked.

But on occasion, they backfired … and I sometimes regretted what I did.

When I prepared the congregation for the risky element, they usually handled things with grace.

But when I sprung something on them without warning, some people became anxious and consequently reactive.

(I was once cast as Church Lady from SNL in a short drama during a Sunday service … and did a rap about sexual expression in marriage while wearing a dress.  It just so happened that my father-in-law … a pastor, missionary, and professor … chose that Sunday to visit our church.  Talk about anxiety!)

When a pastor springs a change on a congregation without adequate preparation, he is the cause of the anxiety floating through the church … and it’s the job of a leader to keep anxiety under control, not make it worse.

By the same token, though, even the slightest change in a church can send certain people into anxiety orbit.

Let me introduce you a woman named Ethel.

Ethel’s having a tough time in life right now.

Her husband lost his job, so the family is racking up debt.

Not only is her husband depressed, but he’s being tested for heart problems.

Ethel’s oldest son is on drugs, and can’t hold a job, so he’s living with his parents.

And Ethel feels overwhelmed trying to hold the family together.

When she goes to church on Sunday, she wants to know that God loves her, and that He will give her the strength and courage she needs to get through another week.

But when she arrives, she finds out that the worship director is no longer on the staff, and that someone with far less ability is now leading worship.

Because Ethel has been experiencing great anxiety at home, she can’t handle anymore anxiety at church … the one place she thought she could find peace.

So what does Ethel do with her anxiety?

Leave it at home?

Leave it with the Lord?

Leave it with her best friend?

No, Ethel starts complaining … to anyone who will listen.

The church is now in a dangerous place.

Why?

I’ll deal with that in my next article!

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I felt very uncomfortable in church last Sunday.

My wife and I are living in a new area and we’ve been looking for a church home.  Last Sunday, we visited a church several miles away that meets in a small converted warehouse.  Our daughter was with us because it was Mother’s Day.

There was much about the church that I liked.

They sang some praise songs I knew.

They acknowledged the mothers in their midst and gave each of them a gift.

They showed a cute video about Mother’s Day.

The pastor’s message was biblical and heartfelt.

But something bothered me … something personal.

When I brought it up to my wife and daughter in the car afterwards, they felt differently.

But I still felt uncomfortable … even anxious.

If I made that church my home, I’d remain anxious about this issue.  I don’t want to feel the way I do, but I do.

And this is how thousands of Christians feel every Sunday … at their home church.

They feel uncomfortable about:

*pews that are too hard

*theatre seats instead of pews

*the way the pastor dresses

*songs they don’t know

*songs they do know but have sang way too many times

*the style of the music

*the worship leader

*music volume

*the greeting time (“I don’t want to shake hands with people I don’t know!”)

*the pastor’s speaking voice (his accent, pitch, rhythm, clarity, volume)

*the pastor’s stories (too many, too few, too irrelevant)

*the pastor’s points (biblical?  relevant?  realistic?  meaningful?)

*the pastor’s body language (does he smile?  stand up straight?  wave his arms?)

When I leave a worship service these days, there are many criteria I can use to determine whether I’ll visit again:

*How much like me are the pastor and congregation?

*How well was the service done?

*How meaningful was the music?

*How wisely was Scripture used?

*Did God meet me there?

But increasingly, I find myself measuring a service by how the worship experience made me feel.

And one dominant question rattles around inside my spirit:

How comfortable did I feel in that service?

The more comfortable I feel, the more likely I am to return for a second visit … and eventually stay.

The more uncomfortable, the more likely I am to cross that church off my list and visit another one the following weekend.

Here’s how all this is relevant:

When most people attend a worship service, they want to feel comfortable there.

While they may be open to being challenged intellectually and spiritually, they wish to feel safe emotionally and socially.

If they visit a church once, and it feels comfortable, they may visit again … and again … and again … until they can predict that they’ll feel safe every time they attend.

And if the rest of their family has a similar experience, they will finally make that church their spiritual home.

But there are two wild cards that can mess things up and lead to conflict.

The first wild card is sudden or drastic change that makes them feel even more uncomfortable.

The second wild card is their own personal anxiety that they bring with them to church.

I will discuss both of these wild cards in my next article.

And I hope you feel comfortable until then!

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I meet all too few of them anymore.

Classy people.

What do I mean by “class?”  What are the characteristics of a classy person?

Let me briefly list four:

First, a classy person listens well.

I once knew someone who made it obvious that he wasn’t listening when we talked.  His eyes would continually dart past me.  He made me feel like he would rather be with anyone else than me.

But I’ve also known people who gave me their full attention when we conversed … as if I was the most important person in the world to them at the time.

One time, a former professor of mine – who wrote a classic book – actually took a whole page of notes when I talked to him about an important issue.

That’s class.

James 1:19 describes this kind of class: “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry …”

Classy people listen much more than they talk.  They don’t interrupt people, or talk over them, or debate them.

Instead, they really, truly listen to the thoughts of others … and watch their body language as well.

Know anybody like that?

Second, a classy person returns personal messages.

When I was a pastor, if I called someone on the phone, they almost always called me back.  If I emailed them, they nearly always wrote me back.

But since I’ve been out of pastoral ministry, I’ve been disillusioned by how many Christian leaders fail to return calls or emails.

There was a time 15 years ago when I was open to a new ministry.  I heard about a group of people who wanted to start a church in an exciting location.  From what I heard, I would have been perfect for that sitution.

So I called the executive minister of that district to let him know I was interested.  No response.  I called again.  No response.

I was frustrated.

I mentioned my frustration to a pastor friend who told me that this leader was famous for not returning people’s phone calls.

And I wondered, “How did he ever get to be a leader with that kind of track record?”  (Was I supposed to drive hundreds of miles and camp on his doorstep to speak with him?)

I had to let that opportunity pass.

Sometimes churches wonder why they’re not growing.  But about half of all churches fail to have someone answer the telephone when people call.

By contrast, I know Christian leaders who know hundreds of people and yet are very responsive to those who contact them … and if they fail to respond in a timely manner, they apologize.

That’s class.

My rule-of-thumb as a pastor was to answer calls and emails within 24 hours.  I try to observe the same policy today.

And I’ve tried – but not always succeeded – to carry out Paul’s admonitions in Colossians 4:5-6:

“Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity.  Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer every one.”

Third, a classy person enjoys encouraging others.

Like all pastors, I’ve received my share of critical comments.  Sometimes I deserved a criticism, while at other times, I thought the critic was being vastly unfair.

I once knew a woman who thought the music at our church was too loud.  She continually wrote me notes demanding that I order the volume turned down.

I looked into the matter and solicited opinions from others.  (After all, my ears might not be representative of the church body.) We settled on a decibel level and stuck to it.

But whenever I saw her coming, I didn’t want to talk with her.  I did, but it wasn’t pleasant because she had become a chronic complainer … and she just couldn’t stop griping.

On the other hand, some people only contacted me when they wanted to say something positive.  One man used to call me at home on Sundays after I preached just to thank me for that day’s sermon.  Others would email me later on Sundays and thank me for the message I’d given that morning.

When some pastors are done preaching, they practically pat themselves on the back afterwards.  But I usually didn’t know if a message worked or not … but if several people whose opinions I respected told me it did, that made my week.

That’s class.

As Hebrews 10:25 says, “Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another – and all the more as you see the Day appearing.”

Classy people continually encourage others.

Finally, a classy person cares for you when you hurt.

Many years ago, my wife and I were in pain over an issue, and we weren’t dealing with our feelings in a healthy manner.  A couple from our church invited us to their home for dinner.  After dinner, they just listened to us.  I don’t even remember if they made recommendations to us.

I just remember that they cared enough to listen.

Paul writes in Romans 12:15-16, “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.  Live in harmony with one another.  Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position.  Do not be conceited.”

Our friends mourned with us.  They let us know they felt our pain.

And in the context of their love, we felt safe.

That’s class.

When people in a church hurt, they sometimes seek out their pastor.

But when the pastor hurts, who does he seek out?

In every church, there are always a few people who sense when the pastor is hurting and seek to minister to him.

I thank God for those people … and feel close to them even when we haven’t seen each other in a long time.

Classy people are also thoughtful … and grateful … and kind … and gracious … and say and do what’s appropriate.

We need more of them in our world today.

Especially classy Christians.

How classy are you?

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Have you ever known someone who was just too nice?

Many years ago, my wife and I went on a long road trip with another married couple.  (The husband and I had become good friends.)  When you’re living with someone 24/7 – as TV’s reality shows reveal – you begin to see who people really are.  While we can be on our best behavior during programmed encounters – like at work or in social situations – people tend to demonstrate their true character when they’re under stress.

And nothing unveils character like a road trip.

During the trip, my wife and I disagreed with the other couple over several things.  For example, I wanted to attend church on Sunday morning, while they wanted to plow on and make time toward our ultimate destination.  In addition, the other wife continually corrected things that my wife and I said, making us gradually withdraw from conversation.

But my friend, who drove during much of the trip, never displayed any negative emotions.  He didn’t show any anger, or irritation, or regret.  In fact, he was close to being perfect in the way he behaved on that trip.

While he wasn’t perfect, he had mastered the skill of being nice.

And sometimes, being too nice is foolish.

In Mark Galli’s recent book, Jesus: Mean and Wild, the author guides the reader on a journey of the Gospel of Mark and shows us the real Jesus.

In his chapter “It’s Not Nice to be Nice,” Galli illustrates incidents of non-niceness in Jesus’ life and then asks this question: “If Jesus was merely loving, compassionate, and kind – if Jesus was only nice – why did both Jews and Romans feel compelled to murder him?”

Good question.

Galli goes on to write, “Christians are often fascinated with the Religion of Niceness because it appears to champion biblical virtues such as humility, forgiveness, and mercy.  This religion so permeates our consciousness that when we hear someone quote the second Great Commandment, the epitome of Christian ethics, we tend to hear: ‘Be nice to your neighbor, as you would have your neighbor be nice to you.'”

In other words, we’ve substituted being nice for being loving … but the two are not the same.

Galli goes on to indict us for the way we use niceness to avoid conflict:

“Thus we learn not to make a fuss in school, at work, in life.  We quickly discover that people respond positively to us when we are nice to them and negatively when we aren’t.  Since it feels good to be liked, we get addicted to being nice.  And this addiction skews our reasoning.”

Galli then tells about an Episcopalian church that he once attended.  Even though the church at the national level was debating the issue of homosexuality, Galli’s church chose to avoid discussing the issue altogether.  He says that their unspoken motto was, “Let’s just agree to disagree and go about our life together.”

But the issue wouldn’t go away, as most controversial issues don’t.  When the denomination installed a noncelibate homosexual as a bishop in 2003, Galli’s church was forced to discuss the issue of homosexuality.  He writes:

“We were shocked to discover that we had two different congregations – with radically different assumptions about the most basic things.  Since we had no track record of speaking the truth in love to one another, we found ourselves shouting at each other.  It was, to say the least, extremely painful, and it wasn’t long before the church divided.”

And then his next paragraph underscores why Christian leaders need to be more open in discussing areas of conflict in churches rather than just “sweep them under the rug”:

“Better to have addressed these issues years earlier in a frank and charitable manner – even though raising such issues would have broken the code of Episcopal decorum.  An earlier conversation would have left some feeling alienated, and some would have left.  But that would have been preferable to the congregation literally splitting in two later on.”

In other words, our Christian niceness makes us avoid conflict … which leads to even greater conflict later on.

For those of us who have been taught that “being nice” is the same as “being loving,” let me quote Galli one more time:

“Jesus was a sharp judge of character, and he employed anger even when he was aware it wasn’t going to do any good.  Why?  Because sometimes the most honest and truthful response to foolishness or evil is anger.  Jesus couldn’t have integrity if he was indifferent.  The person who is always nice, always decorous, always even-keeled is likely a person who ultimately does not care about what God cares about.”

Wow.

God doesn’t call His people to be uncivil, or rude, or obnoxious.  We don’t emulate or honor Jesus that way.  But He does call us to address certain issues head-on, with strength and assertiveness.

When our son was small, our family lived on a semi-busy residential street.  My wife and I made it clear that he was not to go into the street for any reason.

One Saturday morning, he was playing with a ball, and it went out into the street, and he tried to chase it down … and almost got hit by a car.

My wife and I responded with anger and grounded our son for the day.  We made it clear to him that his disobedience could have cost him his life.  He had to stay in his room for hours and think about his folly.

We wanted our disciplinary measure to sting.

We let him out at dinner time and reiterated to him how much we loved him and why we confined him for the day.

We were’t very nice, but we were extremely loving.

And we were loving because we cared about him and his future enough to get upset and do something about it.

Where in your life are you avoiding conflict?

With whom are you dodging that tough conversation?

It’s all right to be nice in the way that you approach conflict.

Just make sure that being nice isn’t your goal in life.

And that being loving is.

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Two days ago, I read an article about a Christian leader that broke my heart … and I can’t get it out of my mind.

Tom White, long-time executive director of Voice of the Martyrs, committed suicide several weeks ago as police were investigating a molestation charge against him.  You can read the story here:

http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2012/aprilweb-only/tom-white-accusations.html

I’ve admired the work that VOM has done for a long time.  My prayer is that this tragedy doesn’t affect the crucial work they’re doing in calling attention to persecuted believers all over the world … and that God will grant Tom White’s family and his VOM colleagues His peace.

While reading this article, I thought about the many Christian leaders that I’ve known or respected who were discovered to be all too human and fallible.

Professors at Christian schools.  Missionaries.  Prominent pastors.  Christian vocalists and musicians.  Parachurch leaders.  Evangelists.  Associate pastors.  Televangelists.

Some preached against divorce … and eventually went through their own divorce.

Others railed against adultery … only to be seduced themselves.

Some preached a prosperity gospel … and later lost everything.

And some have behaved in ways that we … and even they … cannot fathom.

Back in the late 1980s, when there was a rash of scandals involving Christian leaders, we were told that leaders needed to demonstrate greater accountability, and that this single step would halt most of the scandals.

Maybe so … but I have a different take on this.

I believe there is a direct correlation between doing ministry and personal pain.

The more committed you are to ministering to others, the more pain you will experience in your own life.

If you doubt me, read 2 Corinthians.   In 1 Corinthians, Paul tries to address various issues at Corinth and restrains himself when it comes to expressing his own emotions.

But in 2 Corinthians, Paul lets it all hang out, and at times it’s difficult to read.  Just a few examples:

1:8: “We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life.”

2:4: “For I wrote you out of great distress and anguish of heart and with many tears, not to grieve you but to let you know the depth of my love for you.”

4:8-9: “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”

7:5: “For when we came to Macedonia, this body of ours had no rest, but we were harassed at every turn – conflicts on the outside, fears within.”

11:23-25: “I have worked much harder, been in prison more frequently, been flogged more severely, and been exposed to death again and again.  Five times I received frm the Jews the forty lashes minus one.  Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea.”

And then there’s this one:

11:28-29: “Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches.  Who is weak, and I do not feel weak?  Who is led into sin, and I do not inwardly burn?”

Notice that?  Besides all the physical pain that Paul endured for Christ, he also felt emotional and spiritual pain because he cared so much for others.

When I entered church ministry, I was told in general terms that I would suffer.  I plowed ahead anyway.

What I wasn’t told … and most of us aren’t … is that there are times when the pain becomes so great that you have to pull back.

If there were more rejoicers than weepers … or just as many … the ministry would be more bearable.

But most of the time, there are far more weepers than rejoicers … and after a while, the hurts of others gets to you, and you don’t know what to do with all that pain.

You’d like to lean on your wife, but she has her own pain to deal with, and she’s already tired of hearing about yours.

You’d like to talk with a counselor, but you don’t know who to trust, and you suspect that counseling will uncover more of your own buried pain.

You’d like to tell your board, but you’re afraid they’ll condemn you or fire you, so you stay silent.

You want to tell somebody about your pain, but you can’t find anyone who’s safe enough to trust.

And so you stuff it … and the pain starts turning into anxiety, anger, and depression.

And when you finally do something stupid … or take your own life … people wonder why you didn’t reach out for help.

Maybe you should have reached out … or maybe you just didn’t know where to go for help.

I’ve visited a lot of churches over the past 2 1/2 years – probably at least 40.

And in the course of listening to many preachers, I’ve come to this conclusion: I wouldn’t dare share a personal problem with most of them.  Know why?

Because they don’t dare share their humanity with us.

When I hear a pastor tell a story on himself … or admit that he struggles with certain issues … or needs the gospel just as much as I do, I’m drawn to him.  I feel safe with him.

But when I don’t hear any humanity coming from the pulpit … when the pastor says “you” and not “we” … when he yells and condemns and intimates, “I have it all together” – I don’t feel safe … and I’m sure I’m not alone.

The ethos of much of the Christian world seems to be, “Even though you aren’t perfect, you better act like you are, so you can keep your job and your reputation.”

But Christian leaders aren’t perfect.  Every one is messed up in some way.  They all have their issues, wounds, and struggles … just like you do … and just like Paul did.

I don’t know whether Tom White did anything wrong or not.  We may never know.

But I do know this: we’re all weak and vulnerable at times.  Because of the pain in our lives, we’re all tempted to do stupid stuff.

And all of us – including Christian leaders – need safe people we can talk with and safe places we can go so that we can experience healing and continue in ministry.

In 2 Corinthians 12:9, Paul quoted Jesus as saying that His “power is made perfect in weakness.”

Not in strength … in weakness.

Act like you’re strong all the time, and you’ll eventually succumb to weakness.

Admit that you’re weak, and you’ll become strong.

Your thoughts?

I’ll write more on this topic another time.

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There’s a scene in the film “Raiders of the Lost Ark” that reminds me of the wrong way to confront someone.

It’s the scene where Indiana Jones races through a Middle Eastern city looking for Marion, who has been kidnapped.  As Indiana runs around frantically, the crowd quickly disperses and Indiana is left staring at a large, scary-looking guy whipping his sword around.

What will Indiana do?  Yell at the guy?  Run?  Call for reinforcements?  Ask for a sword of his own?

Indiana takes out his gun … and shoots the guy dead.  (When I first saw the film, my friends loved that scene.)

That may be the way to handle sword-wielding bad guys, but it’s not the best way to handle a confrontation with someone you love.

And yet that’s what many people do when they confront another person.

In essence, they shoot them.

Jesus suggested a better way in Matthew 18:15: “If your brother sins against you, go and show him his fault, just between the two of you.  If he listens to you, you have won your brother over.”

Your brother is another Christian believer.  This passage applies to sisters in the Lord as well.

And the implication is that your brother or sister has sinned against you, violating you in some way.

Let me share five hints for handling a potential confrontation in a more healthy manner:

First, confront in person. 

It is not fair to confront someone in an email, or on Facebook, or in a text, or via snail mail.

The person you’re confronting can’t see your face, or hear your tone of voice, or read you at all.

I don’t like the telephone for confrontation, either – and no, I haven’t confronted anyone via Skype.

Unless impossible, confrontations should almost always be done in person.

You can convey your love for the person through your voice tone, body language, and facial expressions.

You can enter into a dialogue rather than force the other person into listening to your monologue.

You can encourage them to listen to you much easier if you confront them in person.

Second, confront them alone.

If I’m struggling with something you did wrong, or I’m concerned about our relationship, Jesus commands me to talk to you alone “just between the two of you.”

It’s not fair for me to ask someone else to confront you.

It’s not fair for me to bring two or three people into the situation … yet.

What if I’ve got the facts wrong?  What if I’m seeing things incorrectly?  What if I’m overreacting?

Meeting with you one-on-one is the fairest way to handle matters.

Third, deal with issues as they arise.

There is an immediacy to Jesus’ words: “If your brother sins against you, go and show him his fault …”

But what do most of us do?

We avoid confrontation, so we wait … and stew … and get hurt again … and avoid confrontation … and stew … and get hurt again … and then:

WE EXPLODE!

And the object of our wrath probably has no idea about our strong feelings.

It’s an old expression, but true: keep short accounts with people.

As Ephesians 4:26 says, “Do not let the sun go down on your wrath.”

Handle people’s offenses as they arise.

When you avoid dealing with issues as they arise, you’ll be tempted to accumulate offenses.

You’ll keep a running list.

You’ll try and rope others into agreeing with your list.

You’ll eventually be tempted to dump the whole list of offenses on your brother or sister at once, which will seriously damage your relationship and may even end it for good.

Practice confronting people within a short time after they commit an offense.  If you can’t do that, LET IT GO.

Fourth, ask for permission to confront.

We have a right to confront people with whom we are close: family, friends, long-time co-workers.

But we have the right to confront because people give us that right.

I’ve learned to say this at times: “I’ve noticed something you do that I’m not sure you’re aware of.  Would it be all right for me to share that with you sometime?”

When they say yes – and most people will because they’re curious – they have just given you permission to share your concerns with them.

I went to lunch one time with a man who attended my church.  We barely knew each other.

He started criticizing my preaching.  I stopped him cold.

I told him that he hadn’t yet earned the right to criticize me that way … and he hadn’t.  If I changed for him, how would those who liked my preaching feel?

It’s not that I can’t learn from others.  I can.  But some rights must be earned.

Finally, affirm your relationship.

Let the person you’re confronting know that you value their friendship and that you are “for” them, not “against” them.

Tell them, “I hope we’ll always be friends.”

In my own life, I only confront people if (a) they’re harming themselves or others, or (b) they’re harming our relationship.  Otherwise, you have to let most things go.

You can never predict how people will handle a confrontation, but if you (a) confront in person, (b) confront them alone, (c) deal with issues as they arise, (d) ask for permission to confront, and (e) affirm your relationship – you have a far greater chance for success.

Your thoughts?

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It was one of those moments you never forget.

I was sitting in the office of our new pastor when suddenly, the phone rang.

The pastor took the call.  It would change both of our lives forever.

Several leaders in our church – including people who had taught me the Bible – were caught in behavior unbecoming of spiritual leaders.

And these leaders were prominent in our fellowship.

Because I stayed in the room, I could tell by the pastor’s conversation that this was serious stuff.

And it was even more serious when I learned the names of the people involved.

I didn’t want to know anything … but it was unavoidable.

And I was only 19 at the time.

This revelation shook me up.  People I had put on a pedestal weren’t the angels I thought they were.

That night, I went with the pastor to visit people in their homes.  As we discussed the events of that morning, he told me something I’ve never forgotten:

“Jim, don’t ever be shocked by what Christians do.”

That was my baptism into the inner circle of church life.

The inner circle of a church is composed of the pastor, staff members, and key leaders who know what’s going on and make decisions that influence church life.

After being in the inner circle of eight churches over 35 years of ministry, I’ve come to four conclusions about that circle:

First, the inner circle deals with the back side of church life.

When I was a kid, there was a piece of wood that was used for home plate whenever we played baseball in our driveway.  I kept the wood on the side of our house.  The wood looked great on its surface, but when I turned it over, the back side was full of bugs.

Churches can look like that, too.

It’s not that staff members are partying or board members are swearing at each other.  It’s more subtle than that.

It’s that people who appear to be Christians on Sunday may act like secular people behind the scenes.

I’ve known leaders to make threats.  A few have used passive aggressive tactics.

Some have agreed to a decision in a board meeting and then sabotaged the decision in the parking lot afterwards.

Most people who serve in the IC are right-on believers, but life in the IC can become stressful.

You have to be called to serve in that IC … and refuse to be shocked by what you see and hear.

Second, the inner circle is composed of humans, not saints.  My first few years in church ministry, I wanted to believe that my pastor and board members were truly saints of God.

And then I got to know them.

And the more I got to know them, the more I discovered how human they really were.

And the more human they were, the more I liked them.

When I discovered that a leader liked baseball, or a movie I enjoyed, then we shared something in common that we could discuss whenever we saw each other.

But I was shocked at times by how non-human some leaders seemed because they tried to give the impression that they were perfect.

I always had trouble with those leaders.  In fact, most of the leaders I’ve had trouble with over the years never admitted that they did anything wrong.

The human ones were comfortable being authentic.  The inhuman ones tried to act angelic.

That’s one of the benefits of reading Christian biographies.  You find that people you admire are human … just like you.

A veteran Christian leader recently told me that the key to God’s blessing in a church is when the leaders become real with each other.

He may be right.

Third, the inner circle sometimes makes decisions in a messy manner.

My first-ever job was in a butcher’s shop.  I had to go into a closet and clean out the machine where hamburger was made.

Believe me, you don’t want to see how hamburger is made.

And you might not want to see how decisions are made in a church, either.

Some people think a pastor comes to a board meeting, makes a proposal, everyone nods their heads, and the decision sails through.

But reality is far different than that.

I’ve brought proposals to a board meeting that I thought would be approved in five minutes … and one hour later, the board was still haggling about it.

Not arguing … just haggling.

Some people can handle it.  Others cannot.  Those who cannot should probably serve elsewhere.

But those God calls into the IC gradually accept that decision making can be messy.

It’s the price we pay for letting a multiplicity of leaders manage a church.

Finally, the inner circle tests all who are in it.

A friend of mine sits on the board of a prominent church.  He told me recently that his pastor receives scores of critical notes about his preaching every single week.

My friend believes in his pastor and in his church’s mission … but it’s obvious that not everyone does.

If you sit in the back of a church sanctuary on Sundays, you’d never know about all the stuff that’s going on behind the scenes.

And in a healthy church, you never will.

By contrast, the Four Gospels give us glimpses into Jesus’ IC.

There were events that only The Twelve knew about … like Peter trying to walk on the water.

And there were conversations that only Peter, James and John heard … like Jesus’ prayers in Gethsemane.

I must confess, when I first read the Gospels, I was shocked by much of what happened in Jesus’ IC.

But as I grew in my faith, I came to realize this one crucial truth:

God only uses imperfect people.

And that includes the IC at your church, too.

If you’re in the IC, loosen up a bit.  Be authentic rather than legalistic.

And if you’re not in the IC, pray for those who are.

Because they represent you.

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