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Archive for the ‘Conflict with the Pastor’ Category

Who is the most spiritual person in any given church?

While I’m not comfortable with the premise embedded in the question, I have a reason for asking it.

The popular assumption is that the pastor is the most spiritual person in a church.  Although this may be true at times, my guess is that the pastor may not be Spiritual Person Numero Uno.

The pastor may look spiritual on Sundays.  He may wear a suit and tie or possess an angelic smile or wear a “Jesus” pin on his lapel.

But none of those are indications that he’s truly spiritual.

The pastor may sound spiritual on Sundays.   He may read Scripture with a deep voice or express compassion when he speaks or pronounce “God” a certain way.

But none of those are indications that he’s truly spiritual.

The pastor may know more Scripture than anyone else in the church … or more Greek … or more theology.

But none of those are indications that’s he truly spiritual.

When I was a pastor, I assumed that many other people were more spiritual than me.

They read Scripture more … or prayed more often … or more deeply.

They obeyed God more completely … or more spontaneously … or more readily.

They were humble, not proud … transparent, not inauthentic … others-centered, not me-centered.

Truly spiritual people don’t view themselves as spiritual at all.

Many Christians view Paul as the most spiritual Christian who ever lived.  He may have been, but Paul didn’t view himself that way.

He wrote in 1 Corinthians 15:9, “For I am the least of the apostles and do not even deserve to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God.”

He wrote in 1 Timothy 1:15, “Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners – of whom I am the worst.”

Line up all sinners in the world, Paul says, and I’m not first in line … I’m last.

Rather than the pastor, I’d nominate the following people for “most spiritual” in a church:

*The woman who attends a prayer meeting every week … even though she can barely walk.

*The man who does his work with the highest of ethical standards … even if he loses business.

*The woman who lives a simple lifestyle … so she can give more money to God’s work.

*The man who has lost a job and been treated unfairly … but continues to follow Christ.

*The woman who teaches Sunday School to third graders every week … even though they may never thank her.

*The man who quietly comes down to the church and fixes things … even though nobody ever sees him serving.

We don’t give awards for “the most spiritual person” in a church, and it’s a good thing.

We’d most certainly be wrong.

While man sees the outward appearance, only God sees the heart.

And my guess is that in most churches, many other people have more godly hearts than the pastor.

People don’t become pastors because they’re more spiritual than other people.

People becomes pastors because God calls them into ministry and gives them certain spiritual gifts (like teaching, pastoring, and leadership).

While a pastor needs to be spiritual … after all, you don’t want a spiritual adolescent to be your pastor … he doesn’t need to be the most spiritual … so let’s not expect him to be that way.

Let’s give our pastors room to mature in certain areas of their lives.

To me, the most spiritual person in a church is the man or woman who has followed Christ for decades … suffering many losses along the way … but still loves the Lord and desires to please Him.

The next time you attend church, the MSP in the congregation may not be the person bringing the message on the stage.

It could be the person who is running the sound … or the person who arranged the flowers … or the person who cleaned the worship center … or the person who is praying for the pastor’s message in the back room.

Someone other than the pastor.

So let’s see our pastors accurately.

They are called by God.

They have been given certain gifts.

They are to be spiritual themselves.

But they may make mistakes … and get some things wrong … and lose their temper on occasion … and fail to do something you think they should do.

But that’s okay, because after all …

There are other people who are more spiritual than your pastor.

So don’t expect perfection from him.

Don’t put him on a pedestal.

Don’t expect him to become angelic.

Pray for him.  Encourage him.  Love on him.  Write him a note of appreciation.

And most of all, let him be human.

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How do you react when you look in the rearview mirror of your car and see a police car behind you with its lights flashing?

That happened to me yesterday.

I was driving in the fast lane from Phoenix to California on Interstate 10.

One moment, nobody was behind me.

The next minute, I thought I was dead meat.

When I moved into the right lane, a sheriff zipped past me to handle a matter further up the road.

But for one brief moment, I assumed I had done something wrong … although I didn’t know what it was.  (My speed was fine.)

My guess is that you’ve had that feeling, too.

Somebody suddenly appears in your life and signals that you’ve committed a serious offense.

Maybe your spouse accuses you of emptying the checkbook … but you’re sure you didn’t.

Or your boss accuses you of undermining her leadership … but you can’t imagine what she means.

For some people, their first reaction is to instantly confess … even if they didn’t do anything wrong.  Just being accused of something prompts them to admit their guilt.

For others, they quickly defend themselves … even if they are guilty as charged.

I bring this up because many pastors – when they undergo forced termination – usually aren’t told the real reason why they’re being pushed from office.

They’re told by members of the governing board:

“We just thought it was time to make a change.”

Or …

“We think your time here is up.”

Or …

“We love you, pastor, and sense you’re not happy here anymore.”

But the pastor is never told the real reason why he’s being ousted.

Maybe the board can’t articulate it.

Maybe the board lacks the courage to be honest.

Maybe the board doesn’t have a good reason.

Because if they did, they’d be forced to say:

“We want to run the church without your interference.”

Or …

“Several of our friends are upset with you and we want to keep them as friends, so … out you go.”

Or …

“Your preaching has been hitting the mark too often recently – and that makes us uncomfortable – so we’d like you to leave so we can feel better about ourselves.”

The pastor was cruising along the road, assuming everything was fine, when suddenly … the flashing lights appeared.

In our culture, we assume that when someone is charged with wrongdoing, they must have done something wrong.

But that’s not necessarily true.

Jesus was accused of blasphemy by the Jewish leaders and sedition by the Roman leaders – but He wasn’t guilty of either offense.

We’ve known that ever since the Four Evangelists wrote their Gospels.  The resurrection ultimately vindicated Jesus.

But many people still assumed that He did something wrong because He was crucified.

Years ago, at a church I served, I was accused of doing something I didn’t do.

If the charge got around the church, it could have ended my ministry.

I talked to someone who worked for human resources at a large secular company about the accusation.  This person gave me some great advice: “Just because someone claims you did something wrong doesn’t mean you did.”

While I knew that mentally, I needed to grasp that emotionally.

I have since learned that, like Jesus, I may at times be falsely accused of certain offenses.

And other people – even friends – may believe the charges against me … not because they possess any evidence of wrongdoing, but because they choose to believe the charges.

But the church of Jesus Christ is called to a much higher standard.

1 Timothy 5:19 says, “Do not entertain an accusation against an elder [pastor] unless it is brought by two or three witnesses.”

When the witnesses make the accusation, they need to provide eyewitness testimony or some form of evidence.

They need to accuse the elder/pastor to his face.

The pastor/elder has the right to cross-examine them.

But you know what often happens?

When an accusation is tossed into the ether, the pastor hears about it and quickly resigns … not because he’s guilty, but because he’s certain that he won’t be given any kind of fair process to answer the charges.

The flashing lights alone indicate his guilt.

But as I learned yesterday, those lights may not be aimed at you at all.

If you’re upset with your pastor – and a fair amount of my readers are based upon the search terms they use to find this blog – make sure that you follow the biblical process outlined in Matthew 18:15-17 and 1 Timothy 5:19-21 if you choose to take matters further.

Or those lights in your rearview mirror may later be intended for you.

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Nobody likes to get yelled at.

Especially kids.

Many years ago, in my second pastorate, I was preaching one Sunday morning.

So the nursery workers could hear the service, someone installed a loudspeaker high on the nursery wall.  (I was always amazed that any parent put their child in that nursery because it smelled of gas.  We never did discover the source of the problem.)

Anyway, on this particular Sunday, I must have been passionate about some issue, because one of the little kids heard my voice, looked up at the speaker on the wall, and cried out:

“Don’t yell, God!”

I wonder how many people have been driven out of churches because the pastor yelled.

A pastor needs passion or people will fall asleep.

A pastor needs to vary his voice pitch to sound interesting.

A pastor needs to get excited every now and then.

But yelling?

I was scheduled to go to the dentist today, but my appointment has been postponed until next week.

Why is it that most people don’t like to go to the denist?

At least in my case, it’s not just the pain … I know I’ll leave that place alive.

I’m more afraid of the dentist yelling at me for not taking care of my teeth perfectly … even though I floss every day.

And I don’t like to get yelled at.

Let me share three reasons why pastors don’t need to yell when they preach:

First, yelling never makes a point more emphatic.

I once read about a pastor who took his notes into the pulpit with him.  In one place, he wrote, “Weak point.  Yell louder.”

My wife and I recently attended a church service where the pastor spoke a mile a minute during his message.  He sounded like former Lakers’ broadcaster Chick Hearn on steroids.

After the service, I told my wife, “He could have made his points more effectively if he had slowed down and spoken softer at times.”

I wish our politicians would quit yelling when they speak.  Maybe pastors can lead the way.

Second, yelling assumes that people aren’t listening. 

I’ll never forget the third sermon I ever preached.  (It was much better than the first two.)  It was on 1 Peter 4:8.  I went to my pastor that morning and asked him if it would be all right if I pounded the pulpit when I preached that night.

He said it was fine.

When I pounded the pulpit, I’m sure I felt better … but I’m not sure anyone else felt better.

Like many pastors, I once assumed that if I sensed I was losing people as I preached, I had to yell a bit to recapture their attention.

I no longer believe that … especially in a day when pastors use amplification when they speak!

Finally, yelling makes people feel that God is yelling at them, too.

I stay away from people who yell at me.  Most people act the same way.

And when a pastor yells at a congregation, some listeners – maybe most of them – sense that God is yelling at them, too.

That’s certainly the way the kid in the nursery reacted to me many years ago.

He so identified my voice with the voice of God that when I yelled, he thought God was yelling at him.

But doesn’t God also speak through a still small voice?  Elijah needed to learn that lesson.

I think the day of yelling preachers is long gone.  It doesn’t work anymore.

Passion is good.  Conviction is necessary.  Even an occasional rant is okay.

But yelling?

I agree with my small friend:

“Don’t yell, God!”

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Last Saturday, I had the privilege of leading two workshops on conflict at the Christian Ministries Training Association convention in Pasadena, CA.

During one of the workshops, I mentioned how some churchgoers have the attitude that the church they attend is somehow THEIR church, like they own it to the exclusion of everyone else.

I mentioned, however, that Jesus said, “I will build My church …” in Matthew 16:18, and that Jesus is the Head of the church (Colossians 1:18).  Every church belongs to Jesus, regardless of its name or its pastor or its history.

When I said that, I received a lot of “Amens!”

Why is this issue important?

Because there are people in every church who believe they are more important than anyone else and that their agenda for the church should be carried out.

These people are variously called “powerbrokers” or “subterranean pastors” or even “Protestant popes.”

It has been my experience that most of these people operate behind closed doors.  They revel in their ability to influence church events and plans.

Sometimes they are charter members.

Sometimes they are large donors.

Sometimes they are corporate executives.

Sometimes they are people with their own agendas.

But what makes them dangerous is that they act like the church is theirs.

This sentiment usually surfaces during a time of conflict with the pastor.

The powerbroker takes a stand and tells his/her network, “This is MY church.  I am staying here no matter what.  My family is here.  My friends are here.  My ministry is here.  If this conflict becomes polarizing, then we’re staying, and we’ll make sure that the pastor is the one who leaves.”

This attitude – which is very prevalent in hundreds of churches – will eventually cause everyone in that church great pain.

Here’s why.

When a church is looking for a pastor, they pray about who God wants to assume that role.

Then they select a search team.

The search team surveys the congregation.

They solicit resumes and narrow them down.

They watch and listen to sermons.

They narrow down their candidates to a few and prioritize the list.

After months of work, they finally select the man they believe God wants in that church.

That pastor moves his family to a new city.

He believes that he comes with the call of God.

Then the pastor slowly tries to implement the agenda God has given him for that church.

And when the pastor runs into trouble with that agenda – usually between years four and five of his tenure – there are people in the church who say, “This is MY church.  We’re staying … and we’re going to make sure that the pastor leaves.”

But who prayed for these powerbrokers to come to the church?

Who searched for them?

Who called them?

Nobody selected them to lead that church.

They selected themselves.

Let me tell you what should happen when people are disgruntled with their pastor’s agenda.

It’s simple.

They can challenge and question his agenda when it’s first announced.

But after it’s been decided upon … the powerbroker and his/her friends either need to follow the pastor’s agenda fully or leave the church.

That idea also received an “Amen” last Saturday.

It’s wonderful to feel some pride in your church … but no matter how much you’ve attended, or served, or given over the years, that church does not belong to you at all.

It belongs to Jesus, who called a gifted pastor to lead it.

Let him lead.

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How committed should a pastor be to the church that employs him?

I grew up in an era when pastors were expected to be available 24/7 to the people in their congregation.  In my first-ever class in seminary, Dr. Charles Feinberg – Mr. Talbot at the time – told our class, “If you can be anything other than a pastor, do it.”

Since I felt called to pastoral ministry, I didn’t know what else I could do.  (I had already tried working at McDonald’s and that experiment didn’t go so well.)

I had a friend in seminary who was a carpenter.  After he graduated, he went into that profession rather than pursue pastoral ministry.  He was able to be something other than a pastor.

But that was never true of me or many of my colleagues.  Bill Hybels used to say of pastors, “We’ve been had.”

Wives often complain that their hubands are married to their jobs, but in the case of pastors, it’s very much true.

While Roman Catholic priests have been instructed not to take a wife so they can be “married” to The Church, Protestant pastors usually commit bigamy: they marry both a woman and a local congregation.

When I grew up, pastors were more married to their churches.  Today, they’re more married to their wives … and that’s much healthier.

But pastors still struggle with how committed they should be to their church.

Let me share several thoughts about this topic:

First, pastors tend to be overly-responsible individuals.  They want their churches to grow both spiritually and numerically.  They want seeking people to find the Lord.  They want to visit sick people in the hospital and counsel people in pain.  They want to manage the church well and start new ministries and oversee worship services and make sure the church looks good and run the staff well … and on and on and on.

Scott Peck said that people who take too much responsibility tend to be neurotic.  If that’s true, then pastors must be among the most neurotic people on the planet.

When I was a pastor, I cared about every aspect of the church: music, small groups, leadership training, youth ministry, children’s ministry, and everything else.  Sometimes I was accused of not caring about certain ministries, but I tried to keep tabs on everything through the staff.  However:

Second, pastors are overly-sensitive to criticism.  In my second pastorate, I tried to help the deaconesses with their ministry and basically got kicked out of the meeting.  (I never interfered with women’s ministry again.)  But in that same church, the seniors were upset with me because I didn’t interact with them in any way – and they felt I had abandoned them.

While it sounds spiritual to say that pastors work for the Lord, He doesn’t directly pay their salary.  People in the church do.  And every pastor knows that when people in a church aren’t happy, they stop coming, giving, and serving.

So a pastor tries intensely to please as many people and groups as possible.  He knows that when people are unhappy, they spread their discontent to others … and bad things happen.

So the pastor runs around like a wedding planner trying to make sure that everything at the church is always perfect so people won’t complain about his leadership … or his caring … or his spirituality … or his preaching … and on and on.

However, pastors wish they could be divine.  While they represent a divine God, they themselves fall far short of divinity.

Pastors don’t know everything.

Pastors can’t be everywhere at once.

Pastors don’t have all power.

Only God is omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent.

Many years ago, a prominent church leader went into the hospital for a procedure.  He was angry with me for not coming to see him in the hospital, but I knew absolutely nothing about it.

He expected me to be omniscient, but I couldn’t be.  Even pastors have their limits.

I honestly believe that many pastors burn out because they’re trying to serve without limits (an indication of divinity) when they actually have many limits (an indication of humanity).

When pastors feel overly-responsible for their churches … when they act overly-sensitive … and when they feel like they have to be divine to succeed … they gradually drift toward being married to their church.

And in the process, the pastor puts himself in danger of being divorced by his spiritual bride.

I’ll write more about this topic next week.

What are your thoughts about pastors being married to their churches?

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Have you ever gone to church and suddenly developed a serious case of … the creeps?

It happened to me recently.

My wife and I visited a church that was recommended by a colleague.

After parking our car, we felt creepy because we didn’t know where the worship center was – so we guessed its location.  Fortunately, we guessed correctly.

As we walked toward the worship center, though, we didn’t know where to enter it.  Suddenly, a flustered woman appeared and tried to open the door.  It wouldn’t budge.

It felt … creepy.

She did open it on the second attempt, though, and we walked into a small worship center jammed with people … and I instantly felt claustrophobic.

And creepy.

We couldn’t find seats without assistance, so an usher pointed out two empty seats near the back.  We hurriedly sat down.

The worship time was somewhat pleasant, but also felt … well, you know.  I’ve seen worship bands arranged on the stage in various ways, but I’ve never seen six band members on the right side of the stage while the worship leader stood in the corner on the left side of the stage before.  It looked awkward.

I wore jeans to church, like I usually do, but the elders – who served communion – all wore coats and ties.  Some of you may be acclimated to that kind of formal attire, but nobody in our church in Arizona dressed formally, so it felt uncomfortable.

But nothing prepared me for the pastor’s message.

I look for three things when I hear a message: biblical accuracy, intellectual stimulation, and emotional connection.

The pastor was biblically accurate.

There was zero intellectual stimulation.  Many churchgoers may not need that, but I do.  Platitudes aren’t enough.

But I was most troubled by the pastor’s tone while preaching.  It was like he was divine and expected divinity from the rest of us.  We weren’t allowed to be human … nor was anyone else.

A pastor connects best with a congregation when he admits his humanity.  He includes himself in his preaching by using the term “we” and by telling stories that demonstrate that he’s struggling with living like Jesus, just like the rest of us.

But this pastor didn’t tell even one story … and made me feel like I could never measure up to his expectations, much less those of Jesus.

At the conclusion of his message, he told us that if we had fear or anxiety in our lives, we needed to repent of our sin before the Lord.

I felt terrible, because the church had already created so much fear and anxiety in me that by the end of the service, I still hadn’t repented of all my fear and anxiety.

Creepyville.

We couldn’t wait to leave.  All I was thinking was, “Where did I park?  Get me out of here.”

I freely admit that I am not the measure of normalcy when it comes to churchgoing.  There were people who seemed to love the church regardless of my feelings about it.

But the number one feeling I had that morning was:

THIS CHURCH IS NOT FOR PEOPLE LIKE ME.

And, quite frankly, they aren’t ready for any newcomers, either.

I felt like I invaded their secret club.

Have you ever had a creepy church experience?  If so, my readers would love to hear about it.

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I’ve been working for more than two years on a book about the unjust ways that many pastors are treated in our day.  The estimate is that 1,300 pastors per month are involuntarily terminated.

I have five small tasks to finish before the book is complete.

Here’s an excerpt:

Why aren’t Christians doing more to combat the forced termination of pastors?

I’m weary of the excuses that Christians use as to why we won’t do more about this issue:

”We need to preserve the autonomy of the local church.”  Of course, but at the very least, we can tell stories, train leaders, expose the template, and teach believers how to deal with pastoral antagonists.  The article “If You Must Terminate a Pastor” on my blog has been viewed hundreds of times (three-and-a-half times more than any other article), an indication that many board members and lay people want help with this topic.

”Pastors must expect to suffer like Jesus.”  We’ve been told we’re going to suffer since seminary, but we had no idea that attacks from fellow Christians could be so vicious.  Besides, Jesus was crucified by religious and political enemies, not by His disciples.  While His men fled when He needed them most, they didn’t drive the nails into His hands.  Jesus was betrayed by only one follower, but pastors are routinely betrayed by staff members, board members, predecessors, and denominational personnel – and sometimes, they work in concert.

”We need to maintain confidentiality about forced exits.”  This is a church wide problem, cutting across all denominations and theologies.  This plea for confidentiality is nothing more than a cover-up for our incompetence in preventing and managing these tragedies – and is exactly what Satan wants.  When professing Christians abuse and batter clergy, and pastors try to talk about it, we rush to hush them up in the name of unity.  But isn’t this the same tactic abusive husbands use with their wives?  What would happen if we still couldn’t talk about that problem?

“Shedding light on this issue is poor marketing for the Christian faith.”  But if we can make progress in alleviating this problem, wouldn’t the image of many churches improve?  Let’s learn our lessons and brainstorm solutions so these conflicts don’t become so destructive.

I’d like to find just a few Christians who are outraged at the way pastors are mistreated today.  In Matthew 23:33-35, Jesus was still outraged at the way God’s leaders had been treated by religious people throughout Jewish history:

“You snakes! You brood of vipers! How will you escape being condemned to hell?  Therefore I am sending you prophets and wise men and teachers.  Some of them you will kill and crucify; others you will flog in your synagogues and pursue from town to town.  And so upon you will come all the righteous blood that has been shed on earth, from the blood of righteous Abel to the blood of Zechariah son of Berekiah, whom you murdered between the temple and the altar.”

Jesus stood alone in condemning these past injustices committed against God’s servants.

Where are His descendants today?

What do you think we can do to eradicate this plague on Christ’s churches?

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There’s an old adage: “Never follow someone successful.”

It was hard for Steve Young to follow Joe Montana, or for Steven Tyler to follow Simon Cowell, or for Robert California to follow Michael Scott.  (I’m still lamenting that move.)

And it’s hard for some pastors to follow a predecessor as well.

Pastors are affected by their predecessors because (a) the way the previous pastor left the church, and (b) the shape in which he left it directly impacts the current pastor’s success – at least for the first few years.

When I arrived at my first church, I was their fourth pastor in five years.  While I met the first and second pastors, I never met my immediate predecessor.  Evidently he was only at the church for a year and then was unceremonially dismissed.  (I heard it had something to do with the way he acted at a bowling alley one night.)

For the next 16 1/2 years, I didn’t have to deal with any predecessors.

But a few years later, I was called to a church and served on staff right alongside their pastor for a while … and then he retired and became my predecessor.

What was my responsibility toward him?

I believe my job was to express gratitude publicly for his ministry, defend him if anyone criticized him, and make sure we remained on good terms … although as the church turned over, fewer people knew who he was.

What was his responsibility toward me?

I believe his job was to pray for me, support my ministry publicly, and to send any critics back to me without listening to their complaints.

If a pastor’s ministry is a failure, would that make his predecessor sad?

If a pastor’s ministry is successful, would that make his predecessor joyful?

The answer to both questions is, “It all depends.”

When Saul knew that David would succeed him as Israel’s king, he became jealous and tried to assassinate David several times.

But the biblical pattern is for a predecessor to support his successor.  Think Moses and Joshua, Eli and Samuel, Elijah and Elisha, and John the Baptist and Jesus.  (In fact, John said about Jesus, “He must increase, but I must decrease.”)

Why?  Because the kingdom matters more than its personalities.  Advancing God’s kingdom is everything.

Back in the late 1970s, the king of late-night talk shows, Johnny Carson, began taking Monday nights off.  (He had done 5 90-minute Tonight shows for years and was worn out, even when the show went to its current 60-minute length.)

Johnny invited a variety of guest hosts on Monday nights – David Brenner, Joan Rivers, and John Denver among them.

If you were Johnny Carson, would you want those hosts to succeed or fail?

The audience responded favorably to the guest hosts, which might have angered some Hollywood icons … but Johnny was thrilled.  Why?

In an interview, Johnny said, “When the show does well, I do well, and it makes me look good.”

Think about that long and hard.

Now let’s come back to pastors and their predecessors.

Let’s imagine you’ve been a pastor for 25 years.  You’re worn out.  You leave your church behind and do something else.

A new pastor eventually succeeds you.  Do you want him to succeed or fail?

If he succeeds, the kingdom looks good and advances.

If he fails, the kingdom doesn’t look as good and stalls.

Which would you prefer?

Wouldn’t a godly man want his successor to succeed rather than fail?

And wouldn’t he do everything he could to insure his success?

Then why do so many pastors behave in the opposite fashion?

Not long ago, I spoke to a Christian counselor who deals with wounded pastors for a living.

He told me that too many pastors undermine their successors.

They listen to the criticisms of former parishoners, giving their complaints legitimacy.

They agree with the criticisms of staff members, emboldening them to resist their current pastor.

They criticize their successor themselves, forcing people to choose between them.

While the ex-pastor may never witness the division that his interference causes, his involvement may negate much of the good that he did at that church – but few churchgoers have the courage to say, “Knock it off and go away.”

You might be wondering, “Is this really an issue?”

Yes … and I have the scars to prove it.

What do you think about this issue?

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Imagine that you land a good job and you’re flourishing in your position.

Your supervisor tells you that you’re doing a great job.

You get along well with your co-workers.

Your clients seem pleased at how well you’re serving them.

It goes on like this for years.

And then one day, you hear a rumor that you can’t quite believe.

Your predecessor – the person who held your job before you – is telling people you know that you’re doing a terrible job.

In fact, your predecessor would like to return to your company … and replace you in the process.

This whole scheme seems far-fetched, so crazy that you refuse to believe what some people are telling you.

You choose not to dignify the rumors by even responding to them.

But one day, co-workers who had been friends for years start to turn on you.

And your supervisor turns on you.

And even some clients turn on you.

You wonder, “What is going on around here?”

And then someone who knows your predecessor tells you the truth: he/she is collaborating with people at your company to remove you so that he/she can take your place … and your clients … and your salary … and anything else he/she can grab.

Sounds crazy, right?

It IS crazy … but I know someone who had this precise scenario happen to them … in a church.

Their predecessor was the previous pastor.

Their supervisors were the church board.

Their co-workers were the church staff.

Their clients were members of the congregation.

The equation goes like this:

Predecessor + church board + a staff member + a small faction = removal of the current pastor

Ever heard of this kind of thing happening before?

I have.

I’ll tell you more about it next time.

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“I am appalled at what is required of me.  I am supposed to move from sick-bed to administrative meeting, to planning, to supervising, to counseling, to praying, to trouble-shooting, to budgeting, to audio systems, to meditation, to worship preparation, to newsletter, to staff problems, to mission projects, to conflict management, to community leadership, to study, to funerals, to weddings, to preaching.

I am supposed to be ‘in charge’ but not too in charge, administrative executive, sensitive pastor, skillful counselor, public speaker, spiritual guide, politically savvy, intellectually sophisticated.

And I am expected to be superior or at least first rate, in all of them.

I am not supposed to be depressed, discouraged, cynical, angry, and hurt.  I am supposed to be up-beat, positive, strong, willing, available.

Right now I am not filling any of those expectations very well.  And I am tired.”

Those are the actual words of a pastor as quoted in the book Pastors at Risk by my friend Chuck Wickman – and I can relate to every one of them.

One of the major problems in church ministry today is clashing expectations.  The pastor believes that God has called him to carry out one set of tasks, while everybody else expects him to meet their own preferences.

When I was a pastor, I’d feel this most keenly on Thursdays.

Thursday was the day I wrote my message for Sunday.  To me, it was the most important thing I did all week.

Because I can’t write a message on a laptop at Starbuck’s like some pastors, I needed total peace and quiet to hear God’s voice, which meant I had to write my message at home.

I’d work hard on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday to clear out my calendar so that I had no distractions on Thursday.  I’d work until 9:00 pm and almost always get up early on Friday (my day off) and finish the message by noon.  I had to finish the message before I could put together an outline, which needed to be in the office that morning.

But invariably, there would be an emergency on Thursday.

The most frequent interruption was that someone would be rushed to the hospital.

Now I loved the pastoring part of being a pastor.  I wanted to visit that person and pray with them.

But it normally took one hour to 90 minutes for me to drive to the hospital, visit the patient, and then return home.

And I’d have a war within.

I’d wonder: “If I visit them, when will I finish my message?  Will I have to stay up until midnight to recoup the lost time?”

The answer was usually “yes.”  Or if not midnight, then I’d get up at 5:00 am the next day to make up the time.

But I’d wonder, “If I go to the hospital, am I putting the needs of one person/family ahead of the rest of the church?  If I visit the person, is it okay if my message on Sunday is mediocre?”

But if somebody went into the hospital on Monday, I’d visit them right away.  I wasn’t conflicted at all.

But Thursdays?  That was study time.

I also had internal conflicts over things I liked and didn’t like doing.

I loved studying, teaching/preaching, programming team meetings, staff meetings, and counseling.

I tolerated administration and board meetings.

But I hated editing the church newsletter.  Couldn’t stand it.  And I didn’t want to do it.  I could ask someone else to edit it for spelling and syntax, but I had to read it for content.  (I kept putting it off, though.)

I felt the same way about the program/bulletin.

But every piece that a church gives out to the public has to be perfect.  If you want to attract high-caliber people, you can’t put out something with misspellings and run-on sentences.

And people may judge the pastor on the way that church marketing pieces look as well – so I did them.

I also strongly disliked home visitation – even if I liked the person I was going to visit.

If someone wanted to meet me in my church office, that worked for me.

If we could have lunch together, that was fine.

But to go to someone’s home … that’s always been tough for me.  While I knew how to do it – and could do it well at times – I was always exhausted afterwards.

So I’d try and avoid it if I could … or ask others to make home visits instead.

But here’s the problem.

As you were reading about my ministry dislikes, did you say to yourself,

“But the pastor should edit the newsletter … and he should visit shut-ins and first-time guests in their homes … and he should visit everyone in the hospital – even if he’s preparing for Sunday.”

That’s why conflicts occur.

But pastors know that if they miss certain ministry areas, someone will complain about them … though not necessarily to them directly.

Since there are an infinite number of things that a pastor could do, it’s better for him to write out a list of what he will do and stick to it.  Then he needs to make sure that everybody knows what’s on that list.

So adjust your expectations for your pastor.  Pray for him daily.  Encourage him as often as you can.  But remember:

No pastor knows everything.

No pastor has infinite abilities.

No pastor can be everywhere at once.

No pastor is God.

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