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My wife and I recently visited a church that meets in a high school.  When we drove into the parking lot, we had no idea what to expect.  As we walked toward the front door, we wondered: What’s this church all about?  What kind of service will they have?  Will the pastor’s message be something we can relate to?

At the church we’ve been attending for the past ten months, people arrive early to get a good seat.  That wasn’t necessary at this church, so the place largely felt empty until well into the worship time.  When the service did start, worship was led by a guy wearing a cap who told us that those on the stage were “stoked” that we were present.  Although the worship leader and his band sounded okay, there wasn’t as much dignity during the worship time as I would have liked.

When the pastor got up to speak (at 11:02 am – I always time the preacher), he looked like a friend from my former church.  His message was a bit paradoxical to me.  While his written notes were intricate and extensive, he didn’t spend much time interpreting Scripture and spent most of his time making rambling applications.

At one point during the message, the pastor asked how many people were watching the NBA Playoffs.  I think three people raised their hands.  (If the Phoenix Suns aren’t in the playoffs around here, basketball doesn’t exist.)  He then asked if there were any Lakers’ fans in the house.  Even though I am a HUGE Lakers’ fan, I kept my hand down.  (I’m a low-profile kind of guy.)  But my wife instantly raised her hand and went, “YEAH!”  She was the only one in the whole place with her hand up.

Oh, no.

The pastor wanted to launch into an anti-Lakers tirade (evidently quite a popular pasttime in Phoenix churches), but after looking at Kim, he said, “Maybe I shouldn’t say anything.  It looks like her husband can take me.”  (I looked that way because I knew he was about to disparage my second-favorite all-time sports team.)  The pastor then criticized Kobe Bryant for something and moved on.  As a first-timer, I did not like being singled out, but what can you do when your wife expresses her undying support for your team in front of strangers?

The pastor’s message lasted slightly more than an hour.  When Kim and I got into the car, we quickly discussed the church and the message for a few brief moments, and then we talked about something else.  We haven’t talked about that experience since.  We instinctively knew that church was not for us.

However … it perfectly met the needs of the people who attend it.  They absolutely love their church and their pastor, as well they should.  There was obviously a connection between the shepherd and his flock.  It wasn’t one that I understood, but it was palpably real.  After all, the guy has been there forever.

Based on our little experience, let me share a few comments about criticizing pastors:

First, find a church – and a pastor – you like.  When a pastor stands in front of a congregation week after week, he can’t hide who he is.  It just emerges.  Sooner or later, you’ll learn how he relates to God, his wife, and his kids.  You’ll learn what he thinks about politics and social issues.  (And the Lakers.)  You’ll even learn how he feels about himself.  Discerning listeners could write a brief biography of their pastor after hearing him speak for a while.

To remain under a pastor’s teaching ministry, you have to like and respect him.  You don’t have to agree with everything he says.  But if you cringe every time he preaches, then find a church where you’re comfortable.  Because if you stay in a church where you don’t like the pastor, you will inevitably tell others about your feelings.  If you tell 50 people, 48 might disagree with you, but even if only two agree, you’re starting to form a critic’s coalition – and you’ll start lobbying for more members.  (And that’s how conflicts begin.)  Although I’m sure I could be friends with the pastor I mentioned, I didn’t resonate with his preaching.  If I stayed, I’d become a critic, and that wouldn’t be healthy for either one of us.  So I need to visit enough churches until I find a pastor I can listen to consistently.

Second, pray for your pastor before he preaches.  It is amazing how prayer can turn critics into supporters.  If you pray for your pastor’s teaching ministry during the week – and especially right before he speaks – you’ll have formed an alliance with God on your pastor’s behalf.  Rather than nodding off during the message, you’ll eagerly listen for God’s voice.  Rather than picking apart the pastor’s logic, you’ll be rooting for him to make sense.  Praying frequently and fervently for your pastor will not only make you a better listener – it will make him a better preacher.

When I first started preaching as a young man, a group of people always stood around me and prayed for me right before the message.  At times, I sensed God’s power coming upon me during those prayer times.  I became more energized, passionate, and courageous  because I knew that those who prayed for me were interceding on my behalf.  When Aaron and Hur held up Moses’ arms in Exodus 17, Israel prevailed in battle over the Amalekites.  When the two men took a break, and Moses’ arms fell to his side in exhaustion, the Amalekites gained momentum.  Pastors can only hold up their arms for so long.  They need solid supporters who will stand next to them and hold them up before the Lord.  If you’ll do that for your pastor, I guarantee that he will preach better – and you’ll criticize him less.  You’re invested.

Third, realize your pastor is all too human.  He will screw up on occasion.  He will screw up in his preaching, his leadership, and his pastoring.  Count on it.  He may execute his duties flawlessly 97.3% of the time, but he will goof up – sometimes badly.

A few years ago, I was asked to speak at a memorial service for a man I did not know well.  The service was scheduled to be held in the middle of a Saturday afternoon.  I had prepared my remarks well in advance and was positive I knew the time the service started.  So I casually made my way over to the local retirement center, thinking I’d be early.  But when I entered the public assembly room, I discovered I was half an hour late instead … and everybody was waiting for me.  (And not all of them were happy.)  I know why I was late: the wife of the deceased kept changing the time over the  phone, and I latched onto one of the times without double-checking.  (My fault.)  Naturally, I apologized to everyone present.  But I didn’t look prepared that day, and I was a sitting duck for criticism.

If you were in that room, would you have forgiven your pastor or criticized him to others?  If the deceased was your husband or father, would you have been tough on him?  If the pastor was late to every memorial service, okay, he’s got a problem, but if he’s only late to one in his life – and this was the only one in my three decades plus career – it’s an anomaly, not a pattern.  (By the way, the wife of the deceased told me that she was just glad I made it, and our friendship never missed a beat.)  When a pastor makes a mistake, and he apologizes for it, forgive him and let it go or else you’re the one in the wrong.

Finally, keep most criticism to yourself.  The pastor of the church Kim and I have been attending is a terrific preacher.  He’s prepared, passionate, relevant, and courageous.  But he’s been letting someone else preach more recently, and while this person appeals to a younger crowd, my wife and I don’t enjoy listening to him.  Instead of interpreting a passage accuarately and then doing creative applications, he prides himself on doing creative interpretations – some of which do violence to the text as well as the history of the Christian faith.  We’re both so uncomfortable listening to him that we plan to check out other churches on the Sundays he preaches.

I don’t know this pastor, and I will probably never meet him, so I haven’t earned the right to criticize him to his face.  While I don’t think he’s a heretic, he’s an emerging church guy … and that’s all I’m going to say right now.  His views of Scripture, Jesus, and the church are vastly different than my own.

We won’t lobby to have him removed.  (Nobody would listen to us anyway.)  We won’t share our feelings with our friends.  (Unless he starts teaching heresy.)  So instead of insisting that he leave (and how selfish that would be), we plan to look for a pastor and a church whose vision and preaching we can fully support.

What are your thoughts on criticizing pastors?  I would love to hear them.  Thanks!

Check out our website at www.restoringkingdombuilders.org  You’ll find Jim’s story, recommended resources on conflict, and a forum where you can ask questions about conflict situations in your church.

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As the saying goes, “You’re as healthy as your secrets.”  We all have them.  Sometimes it’s something stupid we said or did, and other times it’s something stupid someone said or did to us.  We just don’t feel like talking about it, not to our best friend or spouse or even a counselor.  We just don’t want to go there, and there are times when that’s best.

But we can’t throw a shroud over everything in our lives.  Some facts about us are public knowledge, and others can be discovered without too much digging.  Just go on the internet and type your own name into a search engine.  That stuff’s out there?

But I don’t want to write about personal secrets, but about church secrets.  How forthcoming should the leaders of a church be about vital information?

When I was a kid, our church had a small wooden board nailed to the wall at the front of the worship center.  The board listed numbers that changed every week: last Sunday’s attendance for Sunday School, morning worship, and maybe evening worship, too.  And if the offering receipts weren’t listed on the board, they were placed in the bulletin.

What was the thinking behind these displays?

It was: “This church is open about information.  Many of you are members here.  Members have a right to know how their church is doing.  Rather than have you pull the information out of us, we’re going to lay it out there for everyone to see.”

Was this thinking wise?  Well, if a church wasn’t doing very well, the evidence was right there in black and white.  The average person could track the church’s progress or regress.  That might affect their own attendance, or giving, or morale.  It was a risk to put those numbers out there.

But since my childhood, I’ve been in many other churches that listed either the attendance or the giving in the bulletin – or both.  More churches list the giving than the attendance, but many still do it.

Is this healthy or not?

Some would say, “No, it’s not healthy.  It’s making people focus on the wrong things.  When we come to church on a Sunday, we should laser beam all our attention on the Lord.  We shouldn’t spend any time counting noses or funds.  Besides, I don’t really want to know those statistics anyway.”

But others would say, “Yes, it’s healthy.  It means the leaders are open about our church, whether we’re on the upswing or going through a rough patch.  And besides, if we value membership here, our members always have a right to know how the church is doing at any given time.  May as well just lay the information out there.”

I do not presume to have the final answer on this issue, but I know where I come down: on the side of transparency.  Let me make four arguments for it:

First, transparency is modeled in Scripture.  The Bible is full of numbers, from the ages of the patriarchs in Genesis to the number of Israelites leaving Egypt through the growth of the church in Jerusalem.  How much poorer would we be if the Bible never gave us any of those figures?

In addition, the people in Scripture are transparent about their feelings.  Moses didn’t want to obey God’s call and go to Egypt.  Elijah didn’t want to leave the cave and fulfil the Lord’s next assignment.  David ran the gamut of human emotions in the Psalms, often within a few verses.  Paul practically bled out when he wrote 2 Corinthians (we wouldn’t have most of the NT epistles if all the church problems were edited out), and the Gospel writers give us hidden glimpses of Jesus’ true emotional state (think the cleansing of the Temple, Gethsemane, and His words from the cross).  If the Bible was simply a book of duties and commands without human emotion, how could we even relate to it?  The genius of Scripture is how open it is about God, human sinfulness, and what it cost Jesus for our redemption.

Second, transparency means that we keep our members informed.  As the commercial used to say, “Membership has its privileges.”  Some churches either play down membership or don’t have it at all.  When our pastor gave his annual “State of the Church” message last January, he dazzled all of us with a bunch of numbers, but he never mentioned any membership statistics.  Most Calvary Chapels don’t have membership, either.  For some, membership is institutional rather than missional and separates a congregation into “haves” and “have-nots.”  If a church doesn’t have or value membership, then its leaders might be justified in keeping information from the congregation.

But if a church does have membership, its leaders must share certain key data with its members.

For example, even if a church doesn’t publish its giving statistics, members have a right at any given time to know how the giving is going.  They should be able to contact the church office or a board member for that information.  It should not be kept from them.  If the leaders are worried about what the member will do with that information, could that serve as evidence that the leaders have something to hide?

In addition, members have the right to know the decisions (not deliberations) that a church board is making.  Members have a right to attend board meetings and to examine board minutes.  While most members will never take advantage of these opportunities, remember: membership has its privileges.

Members are not entitled to know all information.  By law, pastors cannot discuss the identity or issues of those they counsel, and certain information about personnel cannot be shared, either.  But members are entitled to have enough information.

For example, if I’m a pastor, and I publish the giving numbers in the bulletin every Sunday, and we’re falling further behind budget, some people will be upset, and some might even stop giving because, they reason, we’re on a sinking ship.

But, if I don’t publish the numbers during the year, I have to share them sometime.  If I wait until the end of the year, and then the church finds out we’re tens of thousands of dollars in the hole, that could destroy the trust bond between us.  The members will ask, “Why didn’t you share this information with us sooner?  We could have increased our giving or done something about it!”

I’d rather just lay the information out there for everybody to see.  So what?  What are we afraid of?

It’s amazing to me.  I hear Christians lambasting the government for not being forthcoming when it comes to government spending and debt, but how open are our churches?

Third, transparency increases ownership.  Since information is still power, the more data people have, the better decisions they can make in their own lives and ministries.

When I was a pastor, I used to tell the staff, “Giving isn’t meeting budget right now, so manage your expenses tightly until things turn around.”  Conversely, if we just had a huge giving Sunday, I’d tell them, “Okay, if you’ve been holding off on a key expense for a while, this might be the time to pull the trigger.”  Don’t we operate on the same basis in our personal lives?

Years ago, Win Arn and his Center for American Church Growth published a little book on church ratios.  The book was crammed full of fascinating information (based on research) that was invaluable for church leaders.  For example, the average Christian will get to know 64 people (I think that was the right number) in a church regardless of size.  In other words, no one should expect to befriend everyone in a church above 64 people.  Rather than keep those goodies to myself (so I could be the fount of all wisdom), I’d share that information with as many church leaders as possible.  I wanted them to feel responsible for the church’s success as well.  It’s elitism when leaders assume that people can’t handle the truth.

Finally, transparency reduces conflict.  In our culture, as we all know by now, when a crime has been committed, the coverup is deemed worse than the crime itself.  We have seen this with Watergate, the Monica Lewinsky situation, and now the Barry Bonds perjury trial.  The same reality is true in churches.

The more information that a church’s leaders give its people, the less anyone will be able to say, “You’re engaging in a coverup!”  (Which only leads to people sniffing around trying to find out what’s being hidden.)  If I’m regularly sharing information with leaders and the congregation, I never have to worry about anyone claiming that I’m hiding things.

Our pastor does a great job of keeping the congregation informed of key matters on a regular basis.  After his message, he’ll frequently take five minutes to share something he wants us to know about the church.  He’s extremely honest in what he says, and as a former pastor, I resonate with him.  He treats us all like adults, not children, and we respond in a likeminded fashion.

Whether you agree or disagree with me, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this matter – because I’ve been as transparent as I know how to be!

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I went to a great seminary.  I loved everything about it: the professors, the books, interacting with fellow students, writing a thesis – just the general environment.  Sometimes the reading got to be a bit much, and at times the incessant papers nearly drove me mad, but I knew what the goal was: a solid Bible education.

We were in seminary to learn the Bible: to preach it, explain it, defend it, apply it.  Our professors knew, loved, and practiced the Word of God.  Being in seminary was a foretaste of heaven.

We didn’t learn much about business in seminary.  After all, we weren’t trying to get our MBAs, but our M.Divs (Master of Divinity degrees).  In fact, when I graduated from seminary after five years, the business world had little if any influence on the local church.

My how times have changed!

If you’re going to pastor an impactful church these days, a seminary education doesn’t seem necessary.  Some people say that what you really need is to take successful business principles and apply them to the church.  Develop your mission.  Cast a vision.  Find your niche.  Market your product.  And evaluate, evaluate, evaluate.

I am not saying that any of the above ideas are wrong.  Pastors can learn from any and all fields.  But in our culture, churches are getting more and more away from what the Bible says and are becoming increasingly enamored with what business says.

I could cite many examples, but one of the most prominent ones concerns the way churches view pastors.

The old paradigm said that a pastor was called by God to love the people and teach the Word.  Loving the people involved practices like counseling, hospital visitation, and praying with people.  Teaching the Word involved disciplines like studying, writing, and delivering biblically-based messages.

The new paradigm says that a pastor is the CEO of a small business, the local church.  You’re not called; you’re hired.  You don’t love the people as much as you lead the church.  You don’t teach the Word as much as communicate a message – one that should continually advance the church’s mission.

It’s all so different.

The reason I bring this up is that many pastors – including myself – were trained at a time when we believed God was calling us to be a pastor, not a CEO.  As some churches grew in size, their pastors became cultural superstars, and a lot of smaller church pastors suddenly felt inadequate.  Most of these large church pastors were using business principles in their churches, so the business way of doing things gradually spread to other churches.

But somewhere along the line, we lost the whole plot.

We now expect pastors to be CEOs, elders to be the board of directors, and money to be the bottom line.

Where’s the Bible in all this?

I bring this up because of my passion for pastors who have been involuntarily forced out of their churches.  How often is the Bible used in such situations?  How often are business practices used instead?

What does that say about our confidence in the relevance of Scripture?

Please don’t misunderstand me.  Pastors and churches can profit from some of the insights and practices of the business community.  But as followers of Jesus Christ, we should go to Scripture first and business second, not business first and Scripture second.

If God’s Word is primary, that changes everything in a local church.

What’s the bottom line in business?  Money.  How about in a church?  Devoted disciples.  The problem is that it’s easier to measure donations than changed lives.

What does a business do when it has hard times?  It cuts expenses.  It lays off employees.  It gets rid of product lines.

What does a church do?  It digs into Scripture.  It gathers together for prayer.  It believes God for great things.

It’s ironic: many Christian leaders believe what Scripture teaches for salvation and spiritual growth but ignore Scripture when business practices dictate otherwise.

Let me give you two examples among many I could cite.

Example one: I had a conversation yesterday with a Christian man.  We were discussing what should be done (if anything) about the people in a church who are wrongfully involved in forcing out a pastor.

My friend’s view is that a church doesn’t need to do anything to these people because God will punish them in His time and way.  He told me the story of an associate pastor who engineered the ouster of the senior pastor.  The associate got cancer and his wife died a horrible death.  His conclusion?  Christians don’t need to address the perpetrators in any way because eventually “God’ll get ’em.”

Where do we find that in the New Testament?

Yes, God will repay all of us according to our deeds in the next life (2 Corinthians 5:10), and the law of sowing and reaping still applies in this life as well (Galatians 6:7).  But would you rather receive correction from God directly or mediated through the leaders of a local church?

As Hebrews 10:29 reminds us, “It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.”

Instead, the New Testament tells us exactly what to do when those inside a church sin and cause division.  We are to gently and lovingly confront them until they repent.  We are to show them the error of their ways and bring them back to the Lord.  For example, look up Romans 16:17-18; Titus 3:10-11; 3 John 9-10.

Jesus said in Luke 17:3-4, “If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him.  If he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times comes back to you and says, ‘I repent,’ forgive him.”

There are four action verbs mentioned here: sin, rebuke, repent, forgive.  Jesus lays out the sequence for us.  When someone sins, we rebuke them.  When they repent, we forgive them.  But how often do we follow His way?  Instead, when people sin, we quickly forgive them and dispense with our rebuking and their repenting.

In other words, if I’m the ringleader against my pastor, and I mount a campaign to force him to resign, and he eventually leaves, most people will quickly forgive me even though I’ve sinned.  No one will rebuke me.  No one will insist I repent.  No one will follow Jesus’ instructions.  And, of course, that leaves me wide open to do the same thing again.

Where’s the Bible in all this?

Example two: The church’s governing board is upset with the pastor for something he said.  One of the board members has had it.  He wants to fire the pastor outright.  During the meeting, another board member comes to agree with him.  Several aren’t yet sure, but nobody feels confident enough to defend the pastor.  After talking into the night, the remaining holdouts come around and agree that the board will fire the pastor.  They then agree to meet again to discuss how and when they’ll talk to the pastor and what (if anything) they’ll say to the congregation.

During this whole episode, they never crack open their Bibles.  They never discuss gently rebuking the pastor so he can repent and be restored.  They never ask for his intepretation of the event or let him present any defense.  They never even ask God for His guidance, asking Him to bless their decision instead.

In other words, they handle matters like they were in a seventh floor office at work.

Once again, where’s the Bible in all this?

The mission statement of Restoring Kingdom Builders is 25 words long:

“To begin the healing process for pastors and their families who have experienced forced termination and to teach Christians ways to manage these conflicts biblically.”

Please notice that last phrase: “to teach Christians ways to manage these conflicts biblically.”

Which conflicts?  The ones that involve the forced termination of pastors.

Most clergy-centered ministries in America are focused on the “healing process” for those who have gone through the pain of a forced exit, and my wife and I want to do that as well.  But isn’t it also wise to try and prevent these situations from happening in the first place?

That’s what I want to do.  Will you pray for my wife and me as we begin this ministry?  And when you hear about pastors who have undergone the pain of termination, will you let them know about our ministry?

And while you’re at it, may I suggest a project?  As you re-read the New Testament again, notice how many times the human authors – inspired by the Holy Spirit – make concrete suggestions as to how divisive people in a church are to be treated.  These instructions are always to the leaders or the people of a local church.

While reading Jeremiah 1 in The Message several days ago, I came across a fascinating phrase, especially as Opening Day in baseball approaches this Thursday.  God told Jeremiah (the prophet with whom I have the most affinity), “Don’t pull your punches or I’ll pull you out of the lineup.”

I believe He’s saying the same thing to me.

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I’m ten years old and playing baseball with friends at my school on a Saturday.  The field is muddy because of rain, better conditions for football than baseball.  There’s a collision at home plate involving a friend and me.  He comes up swinging.  So do I.  We each land a few blows on the other’s body.  We’re each covered in mud.  Game over.  Score tied 10-10.

My friends are all surprised that I got in a fight: the pastor’s kid.  As we both walk home, my slop-covered friend and I are yelling things at each other.  Crazy things, hurtful things, things we felt for a moment but later denied we really meant.

I valued my friends – all of them, even the guy I collided with.  Sometime later, we met and made up.  It’s funny – we weren’t related, but we both had the same last name.

I abhor conflict.  Most of us do.  As the above story indicates, too many times in our lives, conflict results in emotional damage, verbal volleys, physical pain, and relational distancing.

Why does conflict scare us so much – especially Christians?

For starters, conflict scares us because it’s unpredictable.  Let’s say I have two co-workers who constantly make cutting remarks to me.  I finally work up the courage to confront each person in private.  The first individual quickly admits his wrongdoing and apologizes.  The second person accuses me of “being soft” and “not being adult enough to take it.”  I’ve reconciled with the first co-worker – but now I’m even more distant from the second one.

While I feel I did the right things, I didn’t necessarily obtain the right results.  There is no one-size-fits-all way of handling conflict because it always involves more than one person.

After more than 35 years in church ministry, I don’t miss confrontations at all.  I’d talk to one staff member about an issue, and he’d rebel on me.  I’d talk to another, and she’d fully understand and cooperate.  Mark Twain said he could live a month on one good compliment.  One bad confrontation can ruin an entire month as well.

Conflict scares us because we don’t know how others will react to it.  But …

Second, conflict scares us because we’re afraid of ourselves.  Most of the time, I’m a pretty mild-mannered person.  I know myself well.  Give me nine scenarios involving conflict, and I can predict with accuracy how I’ll handle each one.

But put me behind the wheel of a car, and let another driver nearly run me off the road, and I can become a different person.  (When my kids were teenagers, they used to chide me for the way I reacted to stupid drivers.  When they began driving, they changed their tune.  There are a lot of dangerous drivers out there!  Of course, I’m not one of them.)

If a car approaches me from the rear and tries to run me off the road … if a driver cuts in front of me with no warning … if a vehicle plows through a stop sign without ever applying the brakes … I don’t know what to do with how I feel.  The other driver has initiated conflict with me (not that’s it’s personal) but then speeds away – and even if I tried to follow the car, how would I communicate with the perpetrator?  (I once knew a high school girl who made little signs and would show them to other drivers when the youth went on missions trips.  Is that the answer?)

My point?  When people threaten my life (and my car with 213K miles on it) I’m anything but a happy camper.  In fact, sometimes my reactions scare myself!  (Am I the only one who feels this way?)  While I’ve learned better how to handle these situations over the years (“Lord, send a CHP officer their way”), I’m still amazed at the depths of fear and rage that can reside even inside a present Christian and former pastor.

Many of us instinctively know that we do not handle conflict well.  Paul wrote about his own “conflict on the outside, fears within” (11 Corinthians 7:5).  Over time, we have to learn how to handle conflict better.

Third, conflict scares us because we avoid it so much.  If someone hurts me with words, I resolve not to say a thing.  If a co-worker ignores me, I decide not to do anything to reconcile.  If a pastor says something really stupid from the pulpit, I choose not to challenge him.

But when we go through life practicing conflict avoidance, we never get better at handling conflict.  Because even when we try and dodge it, it still has a way of finding us.  The way to take the fear out of conflict is to practice getting better at it.

On the Myers-Briggs test, my wife and I are exact opposites.  For example, I’m a thinker, she’s a feeler.  She’s intuitive, I need data.  For years in our marriage, when we fought (and I use that word deliberately), we both learned a little more about the other during our post-combat wrap-up.  Instead of assuming that my conflict style was correct, I’d ask my wife, “How could I have handled that situation better?  How would you like me to talk to you about that issue in the future?”  She would tell me how to approach her and I’d try and do that when we had our next conflict.  (Ten years later.)

You can read all the books you want on conflict (and I’ve read scores).  You can take all the seminars available.  You can even write out all the verses applying to conflict in the NT (as I’ve done).  But the best way to become fearless about conflict is to practice getting better at it rather than running away from it.  View every conflict situation as a learning experience.

Finally, conflict scares us because the stakes are high when it gets out of control.  When conflict goes south in the Middle East, innocent people die.  When conflict goes poorly at work, people lose their jobs.  When conflict goes badly at church, pastors quit, staff are fired, and people leave in droves.  A conflict badly handled can negatively impact our lives for a long, long time – and we instinctively know this.

This is why it’s helpful to know the level of a conflict when we’re going through one.  Speed Leas, my number one go-to conflict expert, believes that there are five levels of conflict.  The lower the level, the better chance we can resolve the issue ourselves.  The higher the level, the more essential it is that we obtain outside expertise.  Leas says that:

Level 1 involves predicaments.  Everyone wants to solve the problem and go for a win-win.

Level 2 involves disagreements.  We look for a tradeoff and want to come out looking good.

Level 3 involves a contest.  We want to win and get out our way.  We form coalitions and scapegoat people.

Level 4 involves fight/flight.  We either withdraw or want the other party to withdraw.  We’ve become enemies.

Level 5 involves punishing people.  We try and destroy people’s careers and reputations.

Most of us handle Level 1 conflicts nearly every day.  We’re not as proficient at Level 2, and it’s getting away from us at Level 3.  We’re so out of our league at Levels 4 and 5 that if a conflict gets to this point, we either fight and get bloodied or run far away.

When matters get to Levels 4 and 5, we need to call for outside professional help, like a consultant or a mediator, or we can destroy individuals, families, and organizations.

I’ll write more about Leas’ levels later, but for now, I encourage you to try and keep conflicts at the lowest level possible.  If we can become experts at handling matters at Levels 1 and 2, then hopefully we’ll rarely if ever have to deal with conflict at Levels 4 and 5.

My big concern is for the way Christians handle (or don’t handle) major conflicts, especially as they relate to the pastor.  While pastors can certainly learn better ways of dealing with conflict, when a conflict is about the pastor himself, he almost always has to step to the sidelines and let others manage things.  If those others are prepared, a church can survive and even thrive in such an environment.  If the leaders aren’t ready – and most aren’t – conflict can have disastrous results.

If a church had a major conflict every week, its people would eventually learn how to resolve issues from a biblical perspective or the church would collapse.  But when a major conflict only occurs once every five or ten years, then people either lack the skills to deal with the issues or forget whatever skills they may have learned.  (This is not a justification for creating more conflicts!)  I’d like to share some ideas with you in the future on how we might do a better job in this area.

One of my goals with Restoring Kingdom Builders is to “teach Christians ways to manage these conflicts biblically,” especially issues surrounding the involuntarily termination of pastors and staff members.  I receive statistics on a daily basis as to how many people are viewing the blog, as well as the terms that people are inserting into their search engines to find me.  One of the most common phrases is “how to terminate a pastor.”  I don’t know if pastors, board members, or lay people are ending up here (probably a combination of all three), but I’m gratified to know that God is using me in some way to help others.  There is a dearth of materials and teaching in this area in the Christian community.

Please join me in praying that God will use our new ministry to bring biblical and healing solutions to the hundreds of American churches every month that are considering forcibly removing their pastor.

May you become so proficient at conflict management that the Lord uses you to bring reconciliation to others!

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Several decades ago, I took a friend to a White Sox-A’s game at the Oakland Coliseum.  (The White Sox won 1-0.)  After the game, while we were stuck in traffic, we both noticed some verbal interplay between a young woman and a car full of guys.  While both parties were in their cars, the guys were yelling at her, she was yelling at them – and there was alcohol involved.  Suddenly, the young woman grabbed a bucket of ice, ran over to the guys’ car, and poured out the ice through the driver’s side window onto the lap of the driver.  She then ran back toward her car, but the guys caught her and began beating her up.

I can’t stand to watch anyone get hit in real life, especially a woman.

Instinctively, I wanted to get out of the car and defend her, but my companion cautioned, “Don’t Jim – she asked for it.”

What would you have done in that situation?

As difficult as it is to watch non-TV people fighting, it’s even more disturbing to watch one-sided combat.  And yet, that’s what Saul of Tarsus did the first time we meet him in Scripture.

The most prominent early Christian outside the apostles was Stephen, “a man full of faith and of the Holy Spirit … a man full of God’s grace and power” (Acts 6:5,8).  (How many Christian leaders would be described that way in our day?)  Just like with Jesus, some Jewish leaders made up charges against Stephen, incited a mob against him, held a kangaroo court, and produced false witnesses to trump-up charges.  Unlike Jesus, Stephen was able to mount a vigorous defense of his message from the Old Testament, but the verdict had been decided long before he began speaking.

Sometimes it’s hard to read Acts 7:57-58.  Luke mentions five phrases that indicate that the mob had already made up its minds about Stephen’s guilt.  Note the phrases in italics:

“At this they covered their ears and, yelling at the top of their voices, they all rushed at him, dragged him out of the city and began to stone him.”  If a movie was made about what really happened on this occasion, it would be rated NC-17 – or maybe NC-35.

Here’s what I want to know: why didn’t anybody try and stop the mob from carrying out this horrible action?  It was clearly a miscarriage of justice.  It didn’t honor God.  It couldn’t be explained away.  It was wrong.  But according to the text, no one protested this mob action.

And then Dr. Luke slips in a little phrase at the end of verse 58 to introduce us to someone: “Meanwhile, the witnesses laid their clothes at the feet of a young man named Saul.”  Most commentators believe that Saul was more than just an innocent bystander; as Acts 8:1 notes, “Saul was there, giving approval to his death.”

Once again, what would you have done in that situation?

There is no doubt that by not protesting, and by watching the coats of the executioners, Saul’s silent tongue was an indicator that he agreed with Stephen’s guilt, stoning, and death.  I am not saying that Saul could have singlehandedly stopped it.  (Although we don’t know because he didn’t try.)  But somewhere along the line, he made up his mind: Stephen needed to die, and Saul preferred a box seat to doing anything about it.

Saul would feel much differently years later.  In Acts 22:20, while recounting his testimony before another Jerusalem mob, Saul (now Paul) found himself in their crosshairs.  He summed up his actions years before: “And when the blood of your martyr Stephen was shed, I stood there giving my approval and guarding the clothes of those who were killing him.”  One can sense the regret in Paul’s voice: “I can’t believe I did that.”

This time, because the Romans were in charge of the proceedings, Paul was able to escape the mob and live another day.  But I wonder how many times he was haunted by the fact that when an innocent man of God was being stoned, he stood idly by without registering a protest.

Why bring this up?

I had breakfast this past week with a Christian leader who started a ministry for terminated pastors many years ago.  As we were discussing the statistics of how many pastors leave their churches every month, my friend told me that the latest statistic is 1,800.  When I did a search online, I discovered that the stats being quoted now are that 1,800 pastors leave their churches every month and that 1,300 of that group are involuntarily let go.  That’s a lot of pastors – and churches – in pain.

While I concede that there are pastors who need to leave their churches, the overwhelming majority of these forced exits happen to pastors who have done nothing worthy of being fired.

And in most situations, either a handful of board members (usually three) and/or a small contingent of opponents (less than ten) conspire together to remove the pastor from office.  And when they do so, they exaggerate the charges against him and offer him no defense.

Here’s what I want to know: why doesn’t anybody protest this kind of clandestine behavior?

When there is clearly injustice being perpetrated, why doesn’t even one board member tell the spiritual assassins (called by some “the gang of three”) to knock it off?  Why don’t they threaten to expose them to the congregation?  Why do so many board members suddenly go silent when their more vocal colleagues plan to do evil?

And if matters get to the floor of the congregation, why don’t more people in the church vocally support the pastor?  Why do supposedly strong believers suddenly wilt like Peter rather than stand strong like Daniel?

In other words, why do good Christians so often end up guarding clothes rather than fighting injustice?

When I was a kid, James 4:17 used to bother me.  It still does.  Our Lord’s half-brother writes, “Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn’t do it, sins.”

When you know you should protest … when you know God wants you to speak up … when you know you should walk away from the clothes … but you don’t – that’s sin.

In our new ministry, Restoring Kingdom Builders, I want to empower lay people to speak up when it looks like their pastor is being verbally or vocationally stoned.  I want to share with them specific measures they can take to counteract this plague of forcing called, trained, and godly pastors out of churches and even out of ministry.

Rather than guarding clothes for others, maybe it’s time we say, “Watch your own clothes.  I see what you’re up to, and with God’s help, I’m going to do everything I can to stop it.”

Who’s up for this?  Are you?

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Nearly ten years ago, a famous rock star became incensed as to what was happening to music in America.  He remembered when he was a kid and would listen to the radio, enthralled at the personalities of the disc jockeys who spun records and tall tales.  Back then, you had to have a lot of talent to break through the pack and have your record make it to radio.  You had to write a great song, play and sing it well, and keep it up to have a successful music career.

Somewhere along the line, all of that changed.

So in 2002, this rock star put out a CD lamenting what has happened to the music industry.  He sang about “The Last DJ” who “plays what he wants to play”; about “Joe,” the CEO of a large record company who wants a kid “with a good-looking face” who “gets to be famous” while Joe gets “to be rich”; and in “Money Becomes King,” he decries the time when “everything got bigger and the rules began to bend, and the TV taught the people how to get their hair to shine.”

I’m with this rock star 100% on this stuff.  Throughout his career, he has taken on the big boys in the music industry on various issues, even going bankrupt because he refused to budge on principle.

His name?  Tom Petty.

While Tom has chosen to take on some large issues in the culture at times, there are still too many Christians who choose to focus on tiny stuff.  They make a big deal about nothing.

We should stick them with the last name “petty,” too.  Patrick Petty.  Margaret Petty.  Richard Petty.  (Oh, wait,  I hear he’s actually a good guy!)

Why do I mention this?  Because in a world where we’re dealing with earthquake fallout, radiation levels, no-fly zones, and bankrupt states, some Christians choose to focus on some little thing their pastor did or didn’t do.

Look, we all notice things about public people.  We notice their hair, their clothing, and their weight.  We quickly detect the depth of their voice, the accent they use, and the magnetism of their smile.  While we all have our own personal opinions about these matters, it’s almost always beneath us to talk about them with other people.

But that’s exactly what some Christians do.  Let me give you several examples.

*When my dad was a pastor, he received a lot of criticism toward the end of his tenure.  One of the complaints about him was that some people thought he parted his hair on the wrong side.

*A friend once told me that a woman in the church was angry with me.  When I asked him why, he said it was because I didn’t say hi to her one Sunday.  When I asked how many people she had told, he used both fingers to count and said, “Ten.”

*An older believer once became upset with me because I didn’t visit him in the hospital when he had a procedure done.  I told him that I didn’t know he was in the hospital.  He told me that I should have known anyway.

*While studying the resurrection of Christ for a midweek study, I made the statement that Christians could not scientifically prove that Christ rose from the dead.  One of the board members got up from his chair, walked to the door, said, “Then we’re all wasting our time here,” and slammed the door.

*That same board member became incensed with me after a worship service when I mentioned Christ’s death and resurrection in a statement of faith but didn’t mention his burial.

*In a message on Moses, I briefly referred to Moses as a “fogey” when God called him to lead Israel out of Egypt.  A man wrote an angry note on his response card about the use of that word and took offense for every senior person in the church.  I wanted to tell him that I got the idea for the word from a book on Moses … by Chuck Swindoll.

I could go on and on and on, but then I’d be the one who was being petty!

I believe that this “drip, drip, drip” effect of pettiness in our churches is driving pastors out of the ministry.  I recently read a statistic that said that 80% of new pastors are quitting the ministry within five years!  Why?

Undoubtedly some of it has to do with Karen, Daniel, and Mary Petty.

The Pharisees were petty.  They donated a tenth of their spices to the Lord but, Jesus said, “neglected the more important matters of the law – justice, mercy, and faithfulness.”  Jesus went on to say, “You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former.  You blind guides!  You strain out a gant but swallow a camel” (Matthew 23:23-24).

Sometimes when our pastor is preaching, I will catch something that he says that isn’t accurate.  (For example, he claimed on several occasions that Nehemiah was the cupbearer to the king of Babylon, when he was actually cupbearer to the king of Persia.)  I might quickly mention it to my wife or discuss it with her after the service, but that’s as far as it goes.  I don’t send out a mass email detailing his mistakes.  I don’t hop on the phone and mention it to friends.  I don’t criticize him within a small group context.

But some “petty” people inside a church will criticize the pastor for every little thing he does wrong.  It’s almost like they exist to ferret out the pastor’s flubs.  When I was a pastor, there were times when I imagined certain individuals in our chuch singing these words to me (with apologies to Sting): “Every breath you take and every move you make, every bond you break, every step you take, I’ll be watching you.”

What can we do about this pettiness, especially when it comes to our pastors?

First, pray for your pastor more often.  Pray about the big things: his walk with God, his marriage, his fatherhood, his vision for your church, his teaching opportunities.  When you pray about the big stuff, you’ll be calling down the power of God upon him, and you’ll begin diverting your attention away from the small stuff.

Next, if you detect a small flaw in his life, keep it to yourself.  Look hard enough at anybody’s life and you will notice their little quirks and idiosyncrasies.  So what?  We all have them, so we all need to be gracious toward others.  If we start making a big deal about our pastor’s little foibles, others will start doing the same to us (Matthew 7:1-2).

There were times when I was tempted to write out a one-page list of all my tiny flaws (okay, two pages!) and hand it out to certain people in the church so they would know that I knew I had these little issues.  Would that have taken away their fun?  Or would they have started in on page three?

Third, discourage others from focusing on his flaws.  Most people that know me don’t know that (a) I practically get claustrophobic in heavy highway traffic and (b) cannot stand to wait in any line that goes for more than five minutes.  (Just today, I stopped by Target, and when I went to the checkstands, there were three long lines – and I only had two small items.  When they finally opened a fourth line, I should have been asked to be the first person in line, but the guy behind me was asked to go over instead.  I wasn’t happy.  Was I being petty?)

Okay, so let’s say that a friend of yours learns about my weaknesses in these areas, and this person comes and tells you about them.  How would you respond?  Would you say, like in Grease, “Tell me more, tell me more,” or would you shrug your shoulders and say, “Who cares?  I already knew he wasn’t an angel.”  If the latter, chances are good that you won’t be brought too much more gossip.

Finally, start encouraging him in his strengths.  Instead of noticing and publicizing a pastor’s flaws, it’s better to praise him for what he does well.  Reinforcement is a great teacher.  If you like your pastor’s humor, tell him so.  If you like his stories, tell him so.  If you like his applications, tell him so.  If you like his sincerity, tell him so.

Now if you start doing that every week, he’ll become suspicious that you’re no longer being objective, but if you do it every month or so, he may very well keep doing what you like.  While I liked it when someone complimented me verbally about a message after I gave it, I much preferred to receive a note or an email later on because I could keep that written record.  (And verbal comments tended to go in one ear and sail right out the other.)

So don’t be a petty Christian.  Be a pretty Christian instead.  One thing about pretty Christians: they’re never petty.

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When I was a kid, I thought pastors, like Mary Poppins, were “practically perfect in every way.”  My pastor-dad sure seemed that way, and when we got together with his own pastor-dad, he seemed flawless as well.  I began to assume that all pastors were just as admirable.

After my father left the ministry, our family attended a much larger church where the pastor and his pulpit were much further away from us congregation-sitters.  The pastor’s stance behind the pulpit, the lights that shone on him, and the distance between us all made me feel like he was only two miracles away from sainthood.  When he left our church for another assignment, our family bought his 1965 Chevy Malibu (my first car, which was totaled in an accident.)

When we eventually attended another church, that pastor’s churchly proximity to the people was much closer, but he was even more distant emotionally.  When I shook hands with him at the door, he always said, “Hi, guy.”  As I recall, he never even asked my name.  (We teenage boys all look alike, I guess.)  That pastor eventually resigned.  Years later, I learned why.  I’d rather not share the reasons.  They’re not pretty.

After my formative years, I served on church staffs under three senior pastors.  Then I became a pastor myself and have met and known scores of pastors.  I admire pastors because of their dedication, sacrifices, and perseverance.  Being a pastor is a 24/7, 365-day calling.  And in the days ahead, I want to help pastors who have gone through tough times in their congregations, especially those who have become the victims of a forced exit.

But I have met and known pastors who were ticking time bombs, too.  Let me share with you five kinds of pastors who inevitably cause trouble in congregations.

First, there is the pastor who has an inflated view of himself.  This pastor has charisma, a forceful personality, and can quickly attract followers.  He’s usually a compelling speaker and may be a dynamic leader.  During his initial years in a congregation, the church grows quickly.  But behind-the-scenes, this pastor begins to alientate people.  He becomes obsessed with his appearance or his bank account.  He tells everyone that he drives the best car and lives in the greatest neighborhood.  He demands that people around him call him by his proper title (“pastor” or “doctor”).  But this individual values image over character.  He’s really a loner because no one can ever get close to him.  He thinks that rules apply to others, not himself.  And worst of all, this person rarely admits mistakes because he will always find somebody else to blame.  There is a term we use for such people: narcissists.  And there are too many of them in church ministry.  (The stories I could tell!)

Next, there is the pastor who does everything himself.  In a word, he overfunctions.  I once knew a pastor who could be found every Friday afternoon in the church worship center.  Was he praying?  Rehearsing his message?  No, he was cleaning!  He wanted everything “just so” for Sunday.  He chose to act that way because of personal anxiety.  In a similar vein, in the first church I served as pastor, a room in my home served as the church office, and I was the functioning office manager.  I had a used mimeograph machine in my garage and I typed lessons and leadership things onto stencils, placed each stencil onto the machine, and then turned a crank to obtain copies.  (I can still smell the ink.  Ick!)  While I had to make those copies, I quickly learned that I should (a) limit my responsibilities to those tasks that I did best, and (b) hire staff or recruit volunteers to do everything else – and then release them to do the ministry.  Pastors who feel like they need to oversee or do everything in a church end up pastoring smaller churches – and sometimes are forced out because they can’t trust anyone to do things as well as they can.

Third, there is the pastor who is just plain lazy.  In other words, they underfunction.  I served under one.  He was in the church office about six hours a week.  He didn’t introduce any leadership initiatives.  Nobody ever knew where he was (this predated cell phones by twenty years).  On Sunday evenings, rather than present a prepared message, he took questions from the people.  He was very likeable (I still smile when I think about him), and he was very good to me, so I hesitate to say anything uncomplimentary.  But in the end, he was voted out of office in a public meeting, and if there was any one charge that could be laid against him, it would have been “doesn’t work hard enough for this congregation.”  The average full-time pastor works 50-60 hours a week, but there are those who feel they can barely work at all and get away with it.  They rarely do.

Fourth, there is the pastor who never listens.  When I was a youth pastor, I went to lunch with a friend who reads this blog.  While we were conversing, he said to me, “Jim, the way you’re talking now is fine in the pulpit, but it doesn’t work in a restaurant.”  Ouch!  He was right, and I tried to adjust my way of relating to people over the years, but one of the occupational hazards of preaching is that sometimes you forget to turn it off.  At least I was aware of the problem.  I have met too many pastors who were way too insensitive.  They believe that whatever they have to say is automatically more interesting than whatever you have to say.  One time, I was having lunch with a group of ten pastors around a table at a conference, and for a solid hour, the pastors of the two largest churches were the only ones doing the talking.  They never asked any of the other pastors their names, or where they were from, or how their ministry was going.  These guys just lectured the rest of us like we were supposed to take notes.  This “pecking order” takes place among pastors because the American church believes that the larger your church, the more successful you are.  (I feel a rant coming on, but I am practicing self-restraint.)

Finally, there is the pastor who is way too nice.  At first glance, this might not seem like a problem, but it definitely is.  A pastor who is “a really nice guy” tries to cultivate an “I like everyone” image, but that’s unsustainable in church ministry.  A nice pastor will eventually get bulldozed by a dominating board member.  A nice pastor won’t be able to confront staff members when they mess up.  A nice pastor will pull his punches when he preaches, rarely saying anything very memorable.  (John the Baptist, Jesus, Paul, and Peter all had an “edge” about them when they spoke.  While John the apostle didn’t, he was the exception.  Today he’s the rule.)  While I like the pastor of our church very much, he sometimes lets it fly.  (Last Sunday, when he tore into “superficial Christians,” Kim and I both said “Amen” at the same time.)  77% of all pastors are “feelers” on the Myers-Briggs test and they tend to wilt or run under pressure.  While nice pastors are often pleasant to be around, they usually don’t get much done, either – and when their critics come after them, they find that “being nice” won’t save their job.  Nice pastors don’t cause trouble themselves, but they permit trouble in their churches because nobody fears them.  Think about it.

I could have mentioned many other kinds of pastors who cause trouble – like dominating pastors, controlling pastors, promiscuous pastors, manipulative pastors – but I’ll save those for another time.  The great majority of pastors don’t cause trouble.  They faithfully teach God’s Word, model a Christlike life, endeavor to win the lost to the Lord, and try to spread the aroma of Jesus to everyone around them.  I’m glad God called me to be a pastor, and I’m very glad for the pastors who have been in my life.

But what can the people of a church do if their pastor is causing trouble?  I’ll address that five days from today.  (I’ll be putting our new place together next Monday.)  Until then – stay out of trouble!

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During my first year of college, someone told me about a rumor that was going around our church about one of my friends and me.  The gist of the rumor was, “Isn’t it a shame that Jim and [so and so] are no longer getting along?”  What was being said was not true and really ticked me off – so I decided to do some detective work and locate the source of the rumor.

I asked the person who told me the rumor who they heard it from, and when they told me, I went to that person’s house.  But that individual wasn’t the source.  They heard it from somebody else.

So I went to the next person’s house … and so on, for most of the morning.  And guess what?

I never did find out who started the rumor.

I learned a lesson that day.  Since you and I cannot control other people’s tongues, all we can do is control our own ears and not pay attention to everything that everybody says about us.

In other words, there will always be gossips, and we cannot rid the world of them, try as we might.

But we can rid the world of one gossip: ourselves.

What is gossip?  To paraphrase a Supreme Court judge, “I know it when I hear it.”

It’s not gossip to talk about other people, otherwise every time we talked about President Obama or the Lord Jesus, we would be guilty of a sin – and that’s just plain silly.

It’s not gossip to relay bad news about someone.  If a friend of mine goes into the hospital, and I mention that to a few people, that’s not gossip.  Or if someone at my workplace loses a job, and I share that information with a co-worker, that’s not gossip.

It’s not gossip to mention a person’s humanity.  Several weeks ago, our pastor mentioned that he is afraid of heights.  I’m not crazy about deep water.  My wife is not a lover of snakes.  If you want to repeat that information to other people, they’ll probably say, “So what?”  Everybody is afraid of something.  That just means we’re human.

It’s not gossip to express an opinion about someone.  For instance, I cannot watch any Red Carpet events that happen before the Grammys or the Oscars.  It drives me crazy to see and hear celebrity gawkers making a big deal about things that don’t matter (like hair and dresses – you know).  Even though I’ll express some cynicism about those events, that isn’t gossip.  (It’s just discernment!)

So when does gossip occur?

Gossip occurs when I share information about another person and I add a malicious element to it.  For example, “Did you hear that Joe is in the hospital?”  (Nothing wrong with that.)  “I always knew that one day, his habit of eating hot dogs would catch up with him.”  (Ouch!  Gossip!)

Gossip also occurs when I speculate about why someone is having a problem.  “Did you hear that the Horners just separated?”  (If it’s public knowledge, that isn’t necessarily gossip.)  “I’ll bet it’s because of that new single guy in their small group.”  (Red flag!  Gossip!)

Gossip also occurs when we share privileged information about someone we know.  That individual trusts us with a secret, but we just can’t keep it to ourselves any longer.  We have to tell somebody – often the first person we see!  “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but Tim and his family are leaving the church and I’ve heard it’s because they don’t like the youth program.”  (No, no, no!  That’s clearly gossip!)

Finally, gossip occurs when I talk about someone behind their back.  If I notice a weakness in someone’s life, and I really love them, I might ask the Lord to show me a time when I might talk to them about it.  But instead of doing that, I chicken out and tell others what I’ve noticed but I never tell the person I’m gossipping about to their face.

Many years ago, when I was a youth pastor, I did a question-and-answer session with some of the kids in our church.  One of the girls asked me, “Why don’t your socks match?”  I had put my socks on in the dark that morning and had gone all day without noticing what that girl did notice.  She could have told the person next to her about my socks, and that person could have told someone else, and pretty soon, everyone in the room might have known about my mismatch except me.  But to her credit, she asked me directly about the socks – and we all had a pretty good laugh about my mistake.

In 1 Timothy 3:11, Paul discusses the qualifications for deacon’s wives in the local church.  Paul writes, “In the same way, their wives are to be women worthy of respect, not malicious talkers but temperate and trustworthy in everything.”  The phrase “malicious talkers” is literally “she-devils.”  The word “devil” means “slanderer.”  Paul tells Timothy that he is to avoid selecting men as spiritual leaders who have “she-devils” as wives.  Rather, the wife of a spiritual leader should be “trustworthy in everything.”

Why bring this up?  Because gossip destroys people.  Gossip destroys other Christians.  Gossip destroys pastors.  And gossip destroys churches.  Gossips can be “she-devils” or “he-devils,” but please notice: gossipping never advances Christ’s work.  It only advances Satan’s.  The devil is the one who uses deception to destroy the work of Christ.

Ten years ago, I had a friend who served as the pastor of a church that had purchased a parcel of land and wanted to build a school on it.  The neighbors in the surrounding community fiercely opposed the project, which was their right.  But if they dealt with the facts, they would have lost the fight outright.  One day, I visited the homeowners building in our neighborhood and noticed that the HOA newsletter devoted its two pages to a litany of reasons why the school project should be opposed.  When I read over their arguments, I counted fifteen lies!  The church had been repeating the facts about the project in the newspaper and at public meetings, but that didn’t stop the opposition.  They had gossip on their side … but they lost anyway.  Gossippers are never winners.

And maybe that’s why they gossip in the first place.  Gossips don’t tend to focus on losers.  They tend to focus on winners.  They become aware of people who seem to have more authority or money or fame or intelligence – or even spirituality – and they become jealous of their success, so they tear them down with their words to bring them down to size.  Rather than channeling their energies into building others up, they major in tearing others down.

If we recognize that we do gossip – and we all do at times – how can we stop doing it?

The most effective deterrents to gossip often come from Scripture.  Some of the Proverbs deal with gossip in a simple but powerful way.  For example, Proverbs 11:13 says, “A gossip betrays a confidence, but a trustworthy man keeps a secret.”  Which of the two do you want to be: a gossip or a trustworthy person?  (Me, too.)  Or how about  Proverbs 17:9: “He who covers over an offense promotes love, but whoever repeats the matter separates close friends.”  If I know about a sin someone has committed, should I conceal it from others or expose it to their inquiring minds?  (If I don’t want to have any good friends, I should expose the secret.)  Or how about Proverbs 10:19,  one of my very favorite verses?  “When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise.”  Sometimes we gossip just because we talk too much!  Like 24-hour cable TV, sometimes we don’t know how to fill the silence so we revert to talking about other people.

For some, a good dose of James 3:1-12 can stop them from gossipping for quite a while.  Much of the Book of James comes straight from the Sermon on the Mount – and that’s where I have found my greatest motivation to guard my tongue.

Jesus’ words in Matthew 7:1-2 always pierce my heart : “Do not judge, or you too will be judged.  For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”  In other words, “what goes around, comes around.”  If I harshly criticize others behind their back, others will just as harshly criticize me behind my back.  If I invest my precious time in being petty about others, then others will invest their time in being petty about me.  If I “dish it out,” I better be ready to “take it,” Jesus says, because that’s the way His universe works.

But Jesus implies that if I’m kind in talking about others, then others will be kind talking about me.  If I’m merciful to others, they will be merciful toward me.  Skip down ten verses in Matthew 7 to the Golden Rule: “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets” (Matthew 7:12).

I can either spend my time loving others or harming them with my words.  I can either build people up or tear them down verbally.

That’s why when I write, I will be critical of practices that I believe divide Christians and churches, but I will rarely mention people’s names.  In fact, I will do my best to disguise the identity of those I use as illustrations.

What have you found most effective in curtailing gossip in your own life?

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I’ve heard thousands of sermons during my lifetime, and preached thousands myself.  Whenever I hear someone preach – whether it’s a pastor, guest speaker, TV evangelist, or seminary professor – the uppermost question in the back of my mind is: “What are you really like?”  If a speaker admits his or her humanity in a message, then I can connect with them.  But if a speaker acts like he or she is perfect while the listeners are imperfect, I usually tune out.  Angels make lousy preachers.  I want to see divinity (the Word of God) delivered through humanity (a real live person).

This is one of the primary reasons that Bill Hybels from Willow Creeek Church (near Chicago) has long been one of my favorite preachers.  He shares things at such a deep level that you as a listener feel liberated.  The book on marriage that he wrote with his wife Lynne, called Fit to be Tied, is a great example of Christian authenticity.  Both Bill and Lynne share their marital struggles in a way that is both real and redemptive.  Bill and Lynne have publicly acknowledged their need for marriage counseling, and I once heard Bill admit in a seminar for pastors that he was currently in counseling to address some issues from his past.  At the time, Willow Creek was the largest church in America, and I was amazed at his courage in candidly sharing his humanity with us.

For those of us who went to church in the 1960s and early 1970s, we rarely if ever heard our pastors admit they had problems in their lives.  They kept telling us that we had issues but they acted like they didn’t have any.  Maybe it was the way they were trained in seminary, or maybe authority figures back then were not permitted to admit they had foibles.  (For example, the press covered up nearly all of JFK’s indiscretions.)  For this reason, many of us grew up thinking that our pastors were “three feet above contradiction” (referring to the height of the platform from which the pastor spoke).

For this reason, I still remember trivia about Christian leaders that showed me they were human.

Dr. Charles Feinberg, dean of Talbot Seminary, once referred to the TV show Get Smart in an Old Testament class.  (I thought, “You watch Maxwell Smart too?)

Mr. William Ebeling, who taught at Biola for decades, once dropped something on the floor and said, “I’m always this shaky after the Dodgers lose.”

Dr. David Augsburger, one of the world’s foremost authorities on conflict, showed our class an episode of Seinfeld to illustrate the importance of confidentiality in counseling (it’s the one where the rabbi reveals on television things Elaine told him in private).

Richard Foster, author of Celebration of Discipline and other great books (I’m reading Streams of Living Water right now) is such a big baseball fan that he asked my father-in-law to give him regular updates of the World Series score while he was teaching a night class.

John Stott, the great British teacher and scholar (and I think I have every one of his books) – the closest thing Protestants have to a Pope – has always loved James Bond movies.

During my last class at Fuller, Kim and I were sitting in the back of Leith Anderson’s class on leadership, and his wife (who was seated behind us) told me they needed to get back to their room in time to watch 24.

And during a two week Doctor of Ministry class at Fuller, Dr. Archibald Hart held a pizza night for all the students and showed Mr. Bean (the beginning of my love for the guy) as well as a John Cleese movie.

These kinds of small revelations seem rather commonplace today, but for years, they were not.

For example, J. Vernon McGee, the famous radio preacher, once wrote that he couldn’t attend a professional baseball game because of all the smoking, drinking, and cursing.

One of my professors in seminary put his television in his garage and only hauled it out for the World Series.

I distinctly remember hearing a pastor speak at a missionary conference when I was in seminary, and the pastor was the hero in every story that he told.

Pastors used to chide their people for staying home from church one Sunday night a year to watch the Super Bowl.  (I would have hated to be a pastor on July 20, 1969, when the moon landing was televised.  That happened on a Sunday afternoon/evening and most people stayed home from evening services to watch history being made – but the pastor still had to show up for church!)

When pastors fail to reveal they are human, they seem to live in celestial places, not on earth.  They descend from heaven, present God’s Word, and then float back up again, living on a cloud until the next time they speak.  They don’t seem to understand the people they teach.  And they certainly lack empathy and compassion for those who struggle with sin or life.

This is why I believe it’s important for pastors to consistently share their humanity with their congregations.  Twenty years ago, as I was preparing to relearn how to preach so I could better reach unchurched people, one of my pastoral colleagues – who was doing a phenomenal job of reaching those without Christ – told me that he made sure to tell at least one story during every message that demonstrated he was human.  That kind of sharing is essential in our day.

Years ago, I had lunch with a Christian leader who attended a mega church in Silicon Valley.  While we were talking, he began to cry.  He told me that he wished his pastor would share stories from his life rather than from books.  He loved his pastor and wanted to know him better, but his pastor was trying so hard to convince everyone (and maybe himself) that he was perfect that he just couldn’t let down his guard in public.  I was privileged to spend three hours with that pastor one time at lunch, and he shared his humanity with me, but for some reason, he couldn’t do it with his congregation.  He had to protect his image.

I’m reading through the Psalms in my quiet time right now (in The Message), and the authors (including David, who wrote roughly half the Psalms) are very open about their thoughts and feelings.  Read II Corinthians again and see how Paul opens up a vein and pours out his heart to his readers.  And note how frustrated Jesus could be on occasion and how angry He got (without sinning!) on other occasions.  In the Garden of Gethsemane, He was clearly undergoing a bout with depression as He faced the loss of every anchor He held dear in His life on earth.  Yes, Jesus was fully divine, but He was also fully human – made “a little lower than the angels” (Hebrews 2:9) in His incarnation.

Because of Jesus’ humanity, I can relate to Him.  Hebrews 4:15 says, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are – yet was without sin.”  The result?  We are drawn to Christ.  “Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need” (verse 16).  I can relate to Him because He first related to me.

So please don’t make a mental list of all your pastor’s mistakes and share that list with others to make yourself look good.  And never think that your pastor is perfect.  He isn’t.  If you hear him say something stupid, or you see him doing something questionable, don’t come unglued.

Remember that he is not an angel – and never will be.

He’s just like you – he’s  human.  And God made him that way.

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Years ago, I attended a spring training game at Municipal Stadium in Phoenix where the Oakland A’s play.  I arrived right when the gates opened, as I often did, and heard U2’s song With or Without You blaring through the loudspeakers.  (And it sounded so good.)  Several times in the song, Bono sang these words:

And you give yourself away

And you give yourself away

And you give, and you give

And you give yourself away

Those lyrics could describe the feelings of a mother with small children, or a caregiver working with a terminally ill patient, or a customer service representative at a department store, or even a public school teacher trying to control a large class.

Or a local church pastor.

For most of my ministry life, I liked being a pastor.  Yes, there were some tough times, but the good that was done usually outweighed the bad.  I was doing what God called me to do, I was surrounded by Christians who acted like Christians, and I could sense the smile of God upon my life and ministry.

But then slowly, things changed.

Eighteen months ago, I felt like I was falling apart, and I had no idea what was happening to me.  I took a few days off work to read a couple of books that seemed related to what I was feeling, and they helped some, but I still wasn’t right.  Eventually, I saw a Christian counselor who gave me some tests to take, and after he scored them, he told me, “You’re suffering from a severe case of burnout and you’re near a breakdown.”  While his diagnosis initially shocked me, the literature confirmed his conclusion.  Burnout had crept up on me without my knowledge or consent.

But I had all the symptoms.  I felt empty inside.  I didn’t want to hang around most people because I couldn’t control my negative emotions.  After always being a self-starter, I could not seem to motivate myself.  And worst of all, it felt like God had abandoned me.  In the past, it always seemed like I could sense God’s presence, but now He seemed to be a million miles away.  Although I wasn’t suicidal, it would have been okay with me if I had just vanished.

How could a veteran pastor experience such symptoms?

When pastors suffer from burnout, they don’t want to tell anybody.  There is still a stigma about the condition in Christian circles because people assume that if a pastor is truly spiritual, he will never experience burnout.  Because it was hard enough to admit it to myself, I only told a handful of people.  I believed that if the word got out, I would be forced to leave the church because burnout victims require prolonged inactivity.

I didn’t fit the usual profile of a burnout victim.  I had a regular quiet time with the Lord.  I exercised 30-45 minutes at least five times a week.  My home life has always been wonderful.  And I didn’t feel driven inside.  The issues that were draining me were not in my private life.  Instead, they were all at church.

Like many pastors, I am a person who needs to see things happen in his life.  Early in my ministry, I liked cutting the grass at my house because I could immediately see the results of my labor.  (This strategy doesn’t work all that well in Phoenix because you have to look hard to find grass.)  I needed to see attendance rising, giving increasing, and lives being changed.

While I tried not to measure my self-worth exclusively by numbers, I was always conscious that some people in the church – especially those who are business-oriented – almost always judge a pastor’s worth “by the numbers.”  I’ve had a lifelong battle with that value system, but in the ministry, whether you like it or not, “You are your stats.”  To keep the stats going up, you need momentum.  And to keep momentum, you need to continually make plans for new growth.

I once was acquainted with a church that had been in existence for nearly thirty years.  Despite the fact that the church lacked a worship center, it had grown.  To accommodate new growth, the leaders proposed putting a new worship center on the front lawn right next to a major street.

When the proposal was brought before the congregation, matters became contentious, and when the vote for the new building was taken, it failed by a slim margin.  At that point, many of the church’s most gifted individuals left the church and the congregation went through a few years of tough times, culminating in an invitation for the church I served as pastor (which was five miles away) to merge with it, which we did.  But we struggled because it’s hard to resurrect momentum.

When a church is growing, it needs to seize those God-given opportunities to “take the land” or it may very well end up wandering in the wilderness for a long, long time.

Without going into details, I spent months in my last church doing research and putting plans together to keep the momentum going only to have those plans blocked.  Although I told very few people at the time, I knew that was the beginning of the end of my ministry in that place.  It was only a few days later that I was diagnosed with burnout.

My story can be replicated thousands of times in the lives of pastors all over this country.

My guess is that most of you reading this blog are not pastors.  Let me share with you several things that you can do to help your pastor avoid burnout.

First, pray for him daily – and let him know you’re praying for him.  (It’s been my experience that those who pray for their pastor rarely attack him, while those who attack him rarely pray for him.)  And when appropriate, pray with him.  Pastors are so used to praying for others that they are usually greatly moved when someone wants to pray for them.

Second, encourage him to stay home most nights.  Years ago, I heard Chuck Swindoll say that a church that expects its pastor to work many nights will eventually lose him.  Andy Stanley, who pastors one of America’s largest churches in the Atlanta area, says that he’s home almost every night of the week.  Toward the end of my ministry, being out three to four nights a week began to take its toll on me – especially as I got older – and I longed to be home more often.

Third, honestly let your pastor know when he’s doing a good job.  Some pastors are able to affirm themselves and don’t need as much external affirmation, while other pastors constantly need to know they’re helping somebody.  It always meant more to me to receive a note of encouragement on Monday or Tuesday than it did on Sunday – although I always appreciated it regardless of the timing.  When the pastor doesn’t hear affirmation from anyone for a week or two, he may very well question his effectiveness, which is one of the symptoms of burnout.

Finally, intervene if you think your pastor is headed toward burnout.  Talk to him.  Talk to his wife.  Talk to the board.  Talk to the staff.  While the pastor needs to care for himself, many could sing with Bono, “And you give yourself away … and you give … and you give … and you give yourself away.”  But if you don’t take in more than you give … you will burn out.

Burnout happens more in the helping professions (doctors, nurses, paramedics, psychologists, missionaries) than in other professions because the work never ends and because the caring mechanisms of the body shut down after prolonged stress.

I will write more about this extremely relevant issue in the days ahead.  If you’d like to read more about this issue, here’s a brief description of the symptoms and cure for pastoral burnout:

http://www.alc.edu.au/alconline/PAS1018/Topic%201%20Self-care%20for%20pastoral%20people/BURNOUT.htm

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