Restoring Kingdom Builders

I have a theory about pastors, one that I’ve devised by listening to stories from pastors and church leaders, as well as by reflecting upon my own ministry.

Here’s the theory: I believe that churchgoers and church leaders – especially leaders – want a pastor who is largely predictable.

Because when a pastor is unpredictable, that results in heightened anxiety, and conflict surrounding the pastor may soon surface.

There may even be calls for his dismissal.

Let me give you an example.

Pastor Michael came to Hope Community Church four years ago.  He’s known for his solid character, family, and Bible teaching.

There is nothing about Michael that is spectacular, and the church knew that when they called him.

They called a solid senior pastor, not a spectacular one.

It’s kind of an unspoken contract.

But Michael has been enduring some physical and financial stresses recently, and at a recent staff meeting, Michael swore at the associate pastor in front of the rest of the staff and threatened to fire him if he didn’t change his attitude.

Predictable Michael has now become unpredictable.

Realizing what he had done was wrong – and might quickly spread throughout the church – Michael immediately apologized to the staff, and especially to the associate pastor.

In fact, after the staff meeting, Michael and the associate left the church campus and met privately at a nearby coffee shop.

Michael’s outburst will get around the church.  It won’t reach the ears of even half the people, but some will start looking for signs that Michael isn’t always the solid guy he seems to be.

And for Michael, his unplanned verbal explosion could be the beginning of the end of his ministry at Hope Church.

Many Christians know that Paul lays out the qualifications for spiritual leaders in 1 Timothy 3:1-13 and Titus 1:5-9.

Most Bible teachers believe that Paul’s overarching qualification for spiritual leadership is that a man needs to be “above reproach” (1 Timothy 3:2) or “blameless” (Titus 1:6,7).  Paul then expands upon what he means by those terms.

But in my mind, Paul is also saying that spiritual leaders need to be predictable in their character.

There was a man in my first church (I’ll call him Nathan) who was on the church board, and I was always anxious around him because of his temper.

He could explode at any time for any reason.

At a midweek Bible study, he once disagreed with something I said, yelled at me, stood up, left the room and slammed the door behind him.

Another time, he stood up in a public meeting and reamed out a woman, the wife of a fellow leader.

Nathan was anything but predictable … and that carried over to his home life as well, because just a few months after I came to the church, Nathan’s wife announced that she was divorcing him … and I had to ask him to step down from the board.

It was his second divorce.

Who was going to approach Nathan for counseling or prayer?  He was too volatile.

And what’s sad is that for much of his life, Nathan had been a pastor.

Paul told Timothy that an overseer must be “temperate, self-controlled … not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome …”

Yet I have never believed that the qualifications Paul mentions refers to a person’s past history.

Who hasn’t been out of control on occasion?  Who hasn’t been less than gentle?  Who hasn’t loved money a little too much?

But I do believe these qualities refer to a person’s present character, which means that God wants spiritual leaders to be consistent, dependable, yes, and predictable.

Let me make five quick observations about pastors and predictability:

First, the way a pastor acts, speaks, and responds during his first few years sets the template for the rest of his ministry.

If the pastor responds to criticism with a calm spirit his first few years, people will expect that same spirit for the remainder of his tenure.

If the pastor responds to emails within an hour of receiving them, people will expect that practice will continue.

If the pastor works hard his first few years, people will expect that same work ethic.

I became a youth pastor at age nineteen.  My pastor … who later became my father-in-law … told me that if I worked hard my first year at the church, no one would ever question how hard I worked again.

He was right.

People want a pastor whose responses they can predict.  They will be more likely to listen to his sermons … follow his leadership … and ask for his counsel if they know what kind of person they’re dealing with upfront.

Second, even though churchgoers may prefer a predictable pastor, it’s wise for a pastor to be unpredictable at times.

In my last church, I carefully scripted my sermons because I had a few critics who were ready to pounce on anything I said that deviated from their norm.

After several critics eventually left the church, I felt more freedom to be myself, and on occasion, I would engage in an unplanned rant … and those little rants were often the best part of the sermon.

As Presbyterian pastor Stephen Brown used to say, “When in doubt … say it.”  It was his belief that the ideas that popped into a pastor’s head during the sermon would be the ones the congregation remembered best.

They can also get you into trouble … believe me, I know … but at least you’re being interesting.

In other words, even though people prefer a predictable pastor, the pastor shouldn’t allow himself to be put in a box or he’ll never be able to lead the church forward.

Third, only a pastor’s character need be predictable.

Those verses in 1 Timothy and Titus refer to a leader’s inner being.

They don’t say anything about a pastor’s appearance … education … leadership style … or sermons.

Sometime after my daughter Sarah was born, I started growing a beard.  It was the fashion in the early 1980s, and even though I’m usually years behind the trends, it was as simple as not shaving.

One Sunday, a woman stopped me after the service and asked me, “You’re not growing a beard, are you?”

Because my appearance was becoming unpredictable … thus making her anxious … she felt she had a right to vote on the matter.

And yet, several years later, when I shaved off that beard, Sarah cried and cried.  She only knew her dad with a beard!  (Sarah stuck a photo of me and her on Facebook for Father’s Day … and there was that beard again.)

As pastors grow spiritually … as they take continuing education … as they read more extensively … as they take risks as leaders … and as they change the structure of their sermons … they will become less predictable, and cause some people anxiety.

What’s important is to acknowledge any changes and explain them to the congregation so that calm believers can help the nervous ones to cope.

Fourth, when a pastor’s character becomes less predictable, he may be headed for termination.

When people think they know who a pastor is deep inside … and he acts in ways that throw them off balance … some may call for his removal.

One of America’s best-known pastors once bought a second house in a resort community.  He had a steady income from his writings and probably felt it was a good investment.

But when some people in the church heard about that home, they turned on him, and he began to receive an increasing amount of criticism.

Although I’m not aware that anyone called for his dismissal, the criticism was a factor in his leaving the church after a long and successful tenure.

Let’s say that a pastor has some financial difficulties in the first year of his ministry.  If he has financial difficulties in his fifth and ninth years as well, it won’t be a shock to key leaders because he’s already set a pattern.

But if his finances have been pristine for eight years, and he gets into financial trouble in his ninth year, some leaders may be shocked … and disappointed … and begin talking about getting a new pastor.

Finally, our Savior could be jarringly unpredictable.

Jesus was anything but predictable. While His character was God-honoring, His methodology, language, and style were always changing.

For example, if you read the Gospels with fresh eyes, you won’t be able to guess what Jesus says or does in any given situation.

Mark Galli wrote a book a few years ago called Jesus Mean and Wild.  I thought it was a great book and that it explodes many of the inaccurate ways we view Jesus today.

Jesus never healed people with the same methods.  One time, He would speak a word, and a sick person would be made well.  Another time, He would touch someone and they’d be whole.

Jesus’ words weren’t predictable, either.  He said the most memorable things … easy to recall … yet His pithy sayings were full of meaning.  Love your enemies?  No man can serve two masters?  Don’t cast your pearls before swine?

While Jesus’ unpredictability makes for fascinating reading, few Christians today would want Him as their pastor!

They’d rather have someone they can control.

But I believe that pastors need to have characters that are predictable but ministries that are unpredictable.

Just like Jesus.

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Probably the worst ministry nightmare that a pastor can experience is to be either fired or forced to resign.

You lose so much: your position … your income … your reputation … most of your church friends … your sense of self-worth … and more than you ever feared.

Having been through this experience more than seven years ago, I’d like to share some events that helped me to heal.  Maybe my situation can help someone who wonders, “Will I ever get better?”

Each of the following events contributed in some way to my healing:

First, I chose to leave the area where the church was located.

My wife and I loved our house so much!

It took us thirty seconds to walk to the shores of the San Francisco Bay.  When I looked to the right, I saw the Oakland Coliseum where the A’s play.  When I looked to the left, I saw AT&T Park where the Giants play.

I saw the Bay Bridge … and the San Francisco skyline … nearly every day.

There was a bench on a small bluff facing the water.  Sometimes I would sit there and study for sermons while the wind blew the water crazy at high tide.  (Although it’s at low tide in the next photo.)

The entire seven years we lived in that house, I knew that in a moment, it could all be gone.  That knowledge gave me a profound sense of gratitude for every day we lived in that beautiful place.

But when I was attacked by a small but vocal group within the church, I could not envision staying, much as we loved where we lived.  My wife suffered greatly, and we were constantly on guard that we would run into our antagonists and melt down emotionally.

We had to go.

Seeing the church … and the community … in the rear view mirror was necessary for survival.  We didn’t have kids in school, and though the economy was leaking, we chose to sell our house in a short sale (neighborhood comps were dreadful at the time) rather than stay or rent it out.

Had we stayed in that community, our healing would have been stalled.

But many pastors lack the funds to move away, or they stay because their kids are entrenched in schools, and I believe this delays their ability to heal.  The sooner a forced-out pastor can leave a community, the better.

Why stay where you’re not wanted?

Second, I only stayed in contact with churchgoers who were truly my friends.

If I even suspected someone of colluding against me, I unfriended them on Facebook.  And in almost every case, my instincts were right.

I remember a man who invited me to attend some sporting events with him.  We enjoyed our times together, and before I moved away, he told me that he had contact with a leader who was instrumental in pushing me out.  This man called that leader “nasty.”

But several months later, when I attempted to converse with him online, my sports friend had turned on me.

Why stay in contact anymore?  He had chosen sides.  It would have taken several hours of meetings to bring him around, and I was nearly 800 miles away.

Unfriend.

I need more rather than fewer friends, but when someone clearly stands against you, you’re not really unfriending them.  You’re just accepting the truth … and that’s healing.

Third, I spent a lot of time reading the Psalms.

David knew how it felt to be attacked as a leader.  He also knew how to articulate and universalize his pain.

For months, I only read authors who understood that same pain.

I was depressed.  I didn’t feel like praising the Lord.  I didn’t want to evangelize the world.  I didn’t want to become a church member or use my spiritual gifts.

But I found great comfort in the ancient wisdom of Israel’s Psalter.

Because I found it difficult to pray, I sometimes let David do the praying for me.

I also sensed God’s touch when I read 2 Corinthians.  Paul defends his apostolic ministry throughout the entire book, and lets us know that sharing our raw emotions is sometimes the most spiritual thing we can do.

I needed to know that I was not alone, that I was suffering as many other saints had done in time past.

And that insight helped a great deal.

Fourth, I found a church home.

My wife and I moved to Arizona after we left our last church, and we visited a new church nearly every Sunday for six months.

We ended up at Christ’s Church of the Valley – or CCV – which became one of the largest churches in the US while we were there.

I always thought that megachurches were cold and impersonal, but I didn’t find CCV that way at all.  It’s the closest to a perfect church that I’ve ever seen.

The church was outreach-oriented.  They served their community well.  During playoff season, they broadcast NFL games outside on monitors after services so men could stay at church while watching football.  They served breakfast before services, pizza after services.  They even gave guests a free meal.

I tried to use my gifts to serve there, but I found out the hard way there’s only one teacher in most churches these days – the lead pastor.

But I looked forward to every service, and found the people at the church both joyful and grounded.

One of the hardest things about moving from Arizona back to California was leaving CCV.

Although I believe that a forced-out pastor needs to attend church, I found serving problematic.  Most churches don’t welcome ex-pastors with open arms.

But attending a good, solid church helped me heal.

Fifth, I forgave those who attacked me. 

It took a few months to do this.  If someone had told me, “You have to forgave those who hurt you right now,” I would have replied, “I am simply not ready.”

I’m always amazed at those who claim that they instantly forgave the murderer who killed their husband or child.  The words sound good, and play well in the media, but three months later, do they still feel the same way?

There were people who joined the “Crucify him!” mob that I didn’t need to forgive.  I didn’t hold them responsible for what happened to me.

But three Christian leaders in particular knew exactly what they were doing: a former pastor, a staff member, and a board member.

I forgave them all a few months after I left my last position … but then I would hear new revelations of their collusion, and have to forgive them all over again.

I don’t think forgiveness is always an event.  Sometimes it’s a process.

In all honesty, I wish those well who plotted against me, and I don’t hope they die of the plague or rot in a prison somewhere.

The Lord will take care of things.  He always does.

But I wish that someone wise and fair could have set up a process for real reconciliation.

When I forgive someone from a distance, that’s unilateral forgiveness.

When I forgive someone to their face – and we become friends again – that’s bilateral forgiveness, or reconciliation.

That’s the kind I long for, but I’ve given up hope it’s ever going to happen.

Maybe accepting that fact is just as essential for ultimate healing.

Sixth, I largely blocked out my previous ministry whenever I did any teaching.

For many years, I’ve led workshops on church conflict at the Christian Leaders Training Association Convention in Pasadena, California.

I’m excited whenever I lead workshops because I’m doing what I believe God has called me to do.

But those conventions only last for a couple of days.

Five years ago, I became the interim pastor of a wonderful church in New Hampshire, and most of my time there, I reveled in the history of the area and formed friendships that I enjoy to this day.

And during that time, the pain of my previous ministry was largely forgotten.

It’s very healing to preach or teach others.  You’re focused on the present, not the past, and you can use your former experiences to enrich your hearers.

But because those opportunities aren’t common, I now teach the best way I know how.

I write.

Seventh, I could tell I was healing when I didn’t want to tell my story anymore.

For a few years after leaving my last church, whenever I met someone, I wanted to tell them, “I used to be a pastor, but I no longer am.  Since I don’t want you to think I left ministry due to a major offense, here’s why I did leave.”

Then I’d launch into my story … even when I didn’t mean to.

Several months after our departure, my wife and I attended an Amy Grant concert nearly 250 miles from our house.  Amy is my wife’s favorite artist.

We waited after the concert to meet her … there were only three of us … and when Amy signed a photo for me, I told her that I used to be a pastor, but I wasn’t one anymore …

Why in the world did I do that?

I can’t remember the exact date, but when I started telling people “I’m a retired pastor” and that my wife and I work together in our own business … that was a day of great healing.

If anybody wants to talk about what happened at my last church, I’m always willing, and I don’t feel much … if any … pain in doing so.

But I’d rather talk about something else.

A very good sign.

Finally, I felt the greatest sense of healing when my wife and I finally made enough money to pay our own expenses.

It took me 25 years to make a decent wage in church ministry.  My family did without so many things … as my wife often reminds me.

Early in my first church, I drove a car worth $200 and had large holes in the bottom of my dress shoes.

In our last ministry, we finally made enough to save money and take some trips overseas … things my best friends do routinely.

Before I left my last ministry, I negotiated a separation package with the new church board, and those funds carried us for many months.

My wife then got a job with a charter school, but we had to withdraw funds from my retirement account to supplement our needs … funds that disappeared all too quickly.

For the past several years, the Lord has blessed us with our own business – one that we run from our house – and we just purchased a new home … more than seven years after losing the last one.

The day I went into a store and paid for food based on what we earned in the present rather than what we had accumulated in the past was a day of great liberation.

That’s why I tell pastors, “The day you can pay your bills from a new job is the day your healing really begins.”

I hope sharing my experiences have been helpful.

What else helps former pastors to heal?

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