Page 5090 – Christianity Today (2024)

We are highlighting Leadership Journal's Top 40, the best articles of the journal's 36-year history, presenting them in chronological order. Today we present #28, from 1989.

As a pastor, I don't like being viewed as nice but insignificant. I bristle when a high-energy executive leaves the place of worship with the comment, "This was wonderful, Pastor, but now we have to get back to the real world, don't we?" I had thought we were in the most-real world, the world revealed as God's, a world believed to be invaded by God's grace and turning on the pivot of Christ's crucifixion and resurrection.

The executive's comment brings me up short: he isn't taking this seriously. Worshiping God is marginal to making money. Prayer is marginal to the bottom line. Christian salvation is a brand preference.

I bristle and want to assert my importance. I want to force the recognition of the key position I hold in the economy of God and in the executive's economy if he only knew it.

Then I remember that I am a subversive. My long-term effectiveness depends on my not being recognized for who I really am. If he realized that I actually believe the American way of life is doomed to destruction, and that another kingdom is right now being formed in secret to take its place, he wouldn't be at all pleased. If he knew what I was really doing and the difference it was making, he would fire me.

Yes, I believe that. I believe that the kingdoms of this world, American and Venezuelan and Chinese, will become the kingdom of our God and Christ, and I believe this new kingdom is already among us. That is why I'm a pastor, to introduce people to the real world and train them to live in it.

I learned early that the methods of my work must correspond to the realities of the kingdom. The methods that make the kingdom of America or any human kingdom strong-economic, military, technological, informational-are not suited to making the kingdom of God strong. I have had to learn a new methodology: truth-telling and love-making, prayer and parable. These are not methods very well adapted to raising the standard of living in suburbia or massaging the ego into a fashionable shape.

But America and suburbia and the ego compose my parish. Most of the individuals in this amalgam suppose that the goals they have for themselves and the goals God has for them are the same. It is the oldest religious mistake: refusing to countenance any real difference between God and us, imagining God to be a vaguely imagined extrapolation of our own desires, and then hiring a priest to manage the affairs between self and the extrapolation. And I, one of the priests they hired, am having none of it.

But if I'm not willing to help them become what they want to be, what am I doing taking their pay? I am being subversive. I am undermining the kingdom of self and establishing the kingdom of God. I am helping them to become what God wants them to be, using the methods of subversion.

But isn't that dishonest? Not exactly, for I'm not misrepresenting myself. I'm simply taking my words and acts at a level of seriousness that would throw them into a state of catatonic disbelief if they ever knew.

The Pastor's Odd Niche

Pastors occupy an odd niche in American culture. Christian communities employ us to lead worship, teach and preach the Scriptures, and provide guidance and encouragement in the pilgrim way. Within our congregation, we experience a modest honor in our position. Occasionally one of us rises to national prominence and catches the attention of large numbers of people with the charisma of sunny, millennial cheerleading or (less often) the scary forecasts of Armageddon. But most of us are known by name only to our congregations and, except for ceremonial appearances at weddings, funerals, and bullroasts, are not in the public eye.

In general, people treat us with respect, but we are not considered important in any social, cultural, or economic way. In parody we are usually treated as harmless innocents, in satire as shiftless parasites.

This is not what most of us had in mind when we signed on. We had not counted on anything either so benign or so marginal. The images forming our pastoral expectations had a good deal more fierceness to them: Moses' bearding the Pharaoh; Jeremiah with fire in his mouth; Peter swashbucklingly reckless as the lead apostle; Paul's careering through prison and ecstasy, shipwreck and kerygma. The kingdom of God in which we had apprenticed ourselves was presented to us as revolutionary, a dangerously unwelcome intruder in the Old Boy Club of thrones, dominions, principalities, and powers.

The vocabulary we learned in preparation for our work was a language of battle ("We fight not against flesh and blood"), danger ("Your adversary the Devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking some one to devour"), and austerity ("Take up your cross and follow me"). After arriving on the job, we find precious few opportunities to use our leadership language. And so, like the two years of Spanish we took in high school, it is soon nonfunctional from nonuse.

Did we learn the wrong language? Did we acquire the wrong images? Did we apprentice ourselves to the wrong master?

Everybody treats us so nicely. No one seems to think that we mean what we say. When we say "kingdom of God," no one gets apprehensive, as if we had just announced (which we thought we had) that a powerful army is poised on the border, ready to invade. When we say radical things like "Christ," "love," "believe," "peace," and "sin"-words that in other times and cultures excited martyrdoms-the sounds enter the stream of conversation with no more splash than baseball scores and grocery prices.

It's hard to maintain a self-concept as a revolutionary when everyone treats us with the same affability they give the grocer.

Are these people right? Is their way of life in no danger from us? Is what we say about God and his ways among us not real in the same way that Chevrolets and basketball teams and fresh garden spinach are real? Many pastors, realizing the opinion polls overwhelmingly repudiate their self-concept, submit to the cultural verdict and slip into the role of chaplain to the culture. It is easy to do. But some pastors do not; they become subversives.

Undercover to Undermine

Virginia Stem Owens has written the most powerful evocation since King Lear of the subversive character of the person (and this certainly includes the pastor) who intends to convert the world by truth and not guns. Her book And the Trees Clap Their Hands is a dazzling performance on the parallel bars of anti-gnostic polemic and "God's spy" intrigue. In the opening pages, Owens, accompanied by her pastor-husband, sets the scene.

"We sit in coffee shops and scan faces as they filter by unawares on the sidewalk. We are collecting, sorting, storing the data. But we do not call ourselves scientists; we cannot make controlled experiments. In life there can never be a control group. There is only what is-or what presents itself, at any given moment, for our perusal. And we, with our own limitations, can only be in one place and one time at any moment. For this reason we call ourselves spies, for we must strike a trail and stick to it. We must catch as catch can, life being no laboratory, spreading our senses wide and drawing them in again to study what we have managed to snare in the wind.

"We have several covers, my companion and I, business we appear to be about while we are actually always watching for signs of the invisible prey, which is our primary occupation. He, for example, balances church budgets, counsels divorcees and delinquents, writes sermons. But beneath it all is a constant watchfulness, a taking note. Even as he stands in the pulpit, he sifts the faces of the congregation for those fine grains, no larger than the dust of pollen, that carry the spoor of the trail he's on.

"And I sit among them there, internally knitting them up like Madame Defarge, listening, recording, watching, remembering. Softly. Softly. The clues one must go on are often small and fleeting. A millimeter's widening of the eye, a faint contraction of the nostrils, a silent exhalation, the slight upward modulation of the voice. To spy out the reality hidden in appearances requires vigilance, perseverance. It takes everything I've got."

The kingdom of self is heavily defended territory. Post-Eden Adams and Eves are willing to pay their respects to God, but they don't want him invading their turf. Most sin, far from being a mere lapse of morals or a weak will, is an energetically and expensively erected defense against God. Direct assault in an openly declared war on the god-self is extraordinarily ineffective. Hitting sin head-on is like hitting a nail with a hammer; it only drives it in deeper. There are occasional exceptions, strategically dictated confrontations, but indirection is the biblically preferred method.

Jesus the Subversive

Jesus was a master at subversion. Until the very end, everyone, including his disciples, called him Rabbi. Rabbis were important, but they didn't make anything happen. On the occasions when suspicions were aroused that there might be more to him than that title accounted for, Jesus tried to keep it quiet-"Tell no one."

Jesus' favorite speech form, the parable, was subversive. Parables sound absolutely ordinary: casual stories about soil and seeds, meals and coins and sheep, bandits and victims, farmers and merchants. And they are wholly secular: of his forty or so parables recorded in the Gospels, only one has its setting in church, and only a couple mention the name God. As people heard Jesus tell these stories, they saw at once that they weren't about God, so there was nothing in them threatening their own sovereignty. They relaxed their defenses. They walked away perplexed, wondering what they meant, the stories lodged in their imagination. And then, like a time bomb, they would explode in their unprotected hearts. An abyss opened up at their very feet. He was talking about God; they had been invaded!

Jesus continually threw odd stories down alongside ordinary lives (para, "alongside"; bole, "thrown") and walked away without explanation or altar call. Then listeners started seeing connections: God connections; life connections; eternity connections. The very lack of obviousness, the unlikeness, was the stimulus to perceiving likeness: God likeness; life likeness; eternity likeness. But the parable didn't do the work; it put the listener's imagination to work.

Parables aren't illustrations that make things easier; they make things harder by requiring the exercise of our imaginations, which if we aren't careful becomes the exercise of our faith.

Parables subversively slip past our defenses. Once they're inside the citadel of self, we might expect a change of method, a sudden brandishing of bayonets resulting in a palace coup. But it doesn't happen. Our integrity is honored and preserved. God does not impose his reality from without; he grows flowers and fruit from within. God's truth is not an alien invasion but a loving courtship in which the details of our common lives are treated as seeds in our conception, growth, and maturity in the kingdom. Parables trust our imaginations, which is to say, our faith. They don't herd us paternalistically into a classroom where we get things explained and diagrammed. They don't bully us into regiments where we find ourselves marching in a moral goosestep.

There is hardly a detail in the gospel story that was not at the time (and still) overlooked because unlikely, dismissed because commonplace, rejected because illegal. But under the surface of conventionality and behind the scenes of probability, each was effectively inaugurating the kingdom: illegitimate (as was supposed) conception, barnyard birth, Nazareth silence, Galilean secularity, Sabbath healings, Gethsemane prayers, criminal death, baptismal water, eucharistic bread and wine. Subversion.

The Assumptions of Subversives

Three elements are implicit in subversion. One, the status quo is wrong, so deeply wrong that repair work is futile. It must be overthrown if the world is going to be livable. The world is, in the word insurance agents use to designate our wrecked cars, totaled.

Two, there is another world aborning that is livable. Its reality is no chimera. It is already in existence, though not visible. Its character is known. The subversive does not operate out of a utopian dream but out of a conviction of the nature of the real world.

Three, the usual means by which one kingdom is thrown out and another put in its place-military force or democratic elections-are not available. If we have neither a preponderance of power nor a majority of votes, we begin searching for other ways to effect change. We discover the methods of subversion. We find and welcome allies.

At a sixtieth birthday conversation in 1986, the poet A. R. Ammons was asked, "Is poetry subversive?" He responded, "Yes, you have no idea how subversive-deeply subversive. Consciousness often reaches a deeply intense level at the edges of things, questioning and undermining accepted ways of doing things. The audience resists change to the last moment, and then is grateful for it."

These are the convictions implicit in the gospel. They are not, though, convictions commonly implicit in parish life. More frequently, there is the untested assumption that the congregation is close to being the kingdom already and that if we all pull together and try a little harder, it will be. Pastors especially seem to assume that everybody, or at least a majority, in a congregation can be either persuaded or pushed into righteousness and maybe even holiness, in spite of centuries of evidence to the contrary.

That pastors need an accurate knowledge of Christian doctrine is universally acknowledged; that they need practiced skill in the techniques of Christian subversion is overlooked. But Jesus is the Way as well as the Truth. The way the gospel is conveyed is as much a part of the kingdom as the truth presented. Why are so many pastors experts on the truth and dropouts on the way?

In acquiring familiarity and skill in pastoral subversion, we could do worse than to read spy novels and observe the strategies of communist infiltration, but the biblical passages are more than adequate if we will only pay attention to them:

"A great and strong wind rent the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice" (1 Kings 19:11-12).

"This is the word of the Lord to Zerubbabel: Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of hosts" (Zech. 4:6).

"You are the salt of the earth" (Matt. 5:13).

"The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed which a man took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all seeds" (Matt. 13:31-32).

"For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I was with you in weakness and in much fear and trembling" (1 Cor. 2:24).

Unfortunately, this biblical methodology of subversion is easily and frequently discarded by pastors in favor of assault or promotion. There are two likely reasons: vanity and naivet.

Vanity. We don't like being wallflowers at the world's party. A recent study of the decline in white males' preparing for pastoral work concluded that a major reason is that there's no prestige left in the job. Interestingly, the slack is taken up by others (blacks, Asians, women) who apparently are not looking for prestige and have a history of working subversively. Neither was there prestige in Paul's itinerant tent-making.

Naivet. We think the church is already the kingdom of God and, if only better organized and motivated, can conquer the world. But nowhere in Scripture or history do we see a church synonymous with the kingdom of God. The church in many instances is more worldly than the world. When we equate the church and the kingdom and the identity turns out to be false, we feel "taken in." Little wonder that anger and cynicism are epidemic behind the smiling veneer of American pastors. We need refresher courses in Barthian critiques of religion and Dantean analyses of sin, especially spiritual sin.

Tools of Subversion

Prayer and parable are the tools of the subversive pastor. The quiet (or noisy) closet life of prayer enters into partnership with the Spirit who strives still with every human heart, a wrestling match in holiness. And parables are the consciousness-altering words that slip past falsifying platitude and invade the human spirit with Christ-truth.

This is our primary work in the real world. But we need continual convincing. The people for whom we are praying and among whom we are telling parables are seduced into supposing that their money and ambition are making the world turn on its axis.

There are so many of them and so few of us, making it difficult to maintain our convictions. It is easy to be seduced along with them.

Words are the real work of the world-prayer words with God, parable words with men and women. The behind-the-scenes work of creativity by word and sacrament, by parable and prayer, subverts the seduced world. The pastor's real work is what Ivan Illich calls "shadow work," the work nobody gets paid for and few notice but that makes a world of salvation: meaning and value and purpose, a world of love and hope and faith-in short, the kingdom of God.

My passion is the kingdom of God, as it is, if I'm not mistaken, for most pastors. Daily I pray for its arrival ("Thy kingdom come"). Daily I pray for vision to perceive its presence ("The kingdom of God is among you").

My methods? I review my life and ask the question: "What methods were formative in my becoming a pastor? In becoming passionate about the kingdom?"

The answer is clear in retrospect. In virtually every instance I recall, the methods were those of indirection, of subversion. I remember a two-year period in which my vocation hung in the balance. Influential people in my life had mounted a campaign to recruit me to academia. It looked like they had won. For many, maybe most, academia is a kingdom calling; for me it was an avoidance-a ship going to Tarshish. Meanwhile there was a woman praying who never told me what she prayed for, and a man who played handball with me three times a week, whose playing was a parable. While the big guns of argument and career were trained on me and firing away, subversive prayer and parable were doing their work. I was never conscious of the prayer or the parable. They did their kingdom work beneath the surface of my awareness.

And then one day, as a result of the prayer and parable, I clearly saw that I was a pastor after all. The enticements and seductions to abandon my calling were seen to be just that-enticements and seductions. It was a narrow escape. I had been let over the wall in a basket. Subversively.

Eugene H. Peterson is pastor of Christ Our King Presbyterian Church in Bel Air, Maryland.

Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Why am I chronically running out of time and energy? I had asked myself this question many times, but the problem became acute when we relocated and built a new building. There seemed no end to what I was expected to do.

Then someone suggested I read an article from the November/December 1974 Harvard Business Review. As I read it, I realized the answer: Much of the time, I was working for my staff, not the other way around.

William Oncken, Jr., and Donald L. Wass, the authors, pointed out three kinds of tasks that consume time for managers:

Position-Imposed: Tasks your position demands; the pastoral duties expected by the congregation you serve.

Organization-Imposed: Requests for involvement in the community and in the local and district organizations of your denomination.

Self-Imposed: Activities that fulfill responsibilities as a spouse and parent, and other things you have decided to take on, such as continuing education.

If any of the three areas gets shorted, it’s usually the last one, and often that’s because of colleague-imposed responsibilities, requests for assistance from staff members or key lay leaders. That was my experience.

I was delegating work, but mysteriously some of that work was landing back on my desk. How was it happening?

The art of monkey passing

Work assignments might be compared to the proverbial monkey on the back. I don’t recall seeing a course in any college or seminary catalogue titled “The Art of Monkey Passing,” but most of us are fairly good at it. It may be a requisite for surviving as a member of a pastoral team. Let me give an example.

At the end of a Tuesday-morning staff meeting, the associate responsible for Christian education pauses before leaving the room and says, “By the way, Pastor, we have a problem in the junior high department.” He describes it.

The pastor responds, “I don’t have time to deal with this right now, but I will give it some thought and get back to you.” With this, the meeting ends.

Consider what happened in this brief after-the-meeting meeting. Who was carrying the problem, the “monkey,” before the meeting? The associate. Who was carrying it after the meeting? The senior pastor. The associate left with one less thing to worry about. The pastor left with one more problem to solve.

This pastor doesn’t realize it, but by accepting this monkey, he (or she) has voluntarily assumed a position subordinate to the associate. He has begun working for the associate. How? The pastor did two things that associates are there to do: (a) he accepted an assignment; (b) he promised a progress report.

With the roles now reversed, the associate sees to it that the deadline for solving the problem is met. From time to time the associate will drop by the pastor’s office or pass him in the hall and ask, “Any more thoughts on that junior high problem?”

In case you didn’t recognize it, this is supervision.

Unintentionally accepting a monkey

The acceptance of an assignment is not always easy to recognize. Here are some of the ways it can happen:

After an evening Bible study, the deacon in charge of buildings and grounds compliments the pastor on the study and adds, “We’ve been having trouble with the heating unit in the elementary school wing. I think it needs to be replaced. But before I authorize the expenditure, would you mind having it evaluated?” The pastor assures the deacon he will look into it.

The last person to leave the meeting is the deacon in charge of the primary boys’ club program. “Pastor,” he says, “we have a serious shortage of leadership in our program. In fact, if we don’t get help soon, we’re going to lose the leaders we have.” On that cheerful note, the deacon vanishes, and the pastor has one more thing to do.

The pastor returns from lunch and finds a file folder in his basket. An attached note reads, “Pastor: Please review the enclosed plans for a winter choir camp. Any comments or suggestions will be appreciated. If you approve the concept, I will proceed to develop the program. I need your response by late this afternoon, if possible.”

Here is a creative, hard working, and thoughtful associate of music submitting a new aspect of his music ministry for the pastor’s approval. It looks like the way a program introduction ought to be done.

Down the hall, though, the music minister is feeling the clock running on his preparation time for the camp. After a while, he asks, “Have you had a chance to glance at my proposal?” (The initial nudge, another effective tool of supervision.) If the pastor says he hasn’t had time yet but hopes to get to it this afternoon or tomorrow morning, the associate may say, “I know you’re busy, but if you could give me your evaluation by this evening, I’d really appreciate it. I have a meeting scheduled with the steering committee tomorrow evening.” (The reasonable but tight deadline, another effective tool of supervision.) The job assignment is now complete with the deadline understood and the consequences of missing it underscored.

In each of these cases, the responsibility for making decisions or recruiting has passed from the person in charge of that area to the pastor. Now these people can’t move until the pastor finishes the assignments. If each key leader we meet in a week passes us just one monkey, we’ll soon be overwhelmed by them.

Keeping monkeys with their owners

How to overcome the problem? Keep monkeys with their owners as much as possible. Certainly associates will want to confer with the pastor about projects, perhaps even many times a day. I have assured staff, “I’m here to help you with your monkeys and the problems they cause you.” We want to be involved and to help make decisions.

But this can happen without the monkey’s passing to the pastor.

My staff and I talked about job responsibilities, and we even kidded each other about monkeys. I told them, “While I’m helping you with a monkey, it shouldn’t become mine. When you leave my office, be sure that whatever needs to be done on the project will be your responsibility.”

From the article mentioned earlier, we developed some rules for our work together:

When the care and feeding of a monkey requires the pastor’s assistance, set up an appointment to talk together. While certain emergencies don’t allow this, the rule keeps monkeys from being dropped on the pastor’s back at random.

Contact with the pastor about a monkey should be face to face or by phone, never by memo. Monkeys by mail automatically become the property of the receiver, as the choir-camp memo illustrates.

After someone has talked with the pastor concerning a monkey, the person should set a date for when he’ll next attend to it.

These guidelines keep monkeys in the care of their owners.

William Oncken, Jr., says that when colleague-imposed time consumption is minimized, we can then use the newly released time to gain control of the position- and organization-imposed demands placed on us. That’s been true for me. When I learned how to leave monkeys with their owners, I became able to spend more and better hours preparing to teach and preach. I even found time for self-imposed demands, such as writing articles.

-Orville E. Easterly

Roseville, California

Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Used-Car Ministry

When First United Methodist Church in Tulsa looked for new ways to reach out to its community, members of the congregation came forward with a number of ideas-a medical clinic, singles ministry, prison ministry, helping the hungry and homeless. They also conceived of perhaps the world’s first used-car ministry

“There are a lot of people in our community who could have jobs except they can’t get to them because they don’t have a car,” says Jessica Moffatt, minister of community ministries at First United Methodist. “Or they have a car, but they can’t get to work because it’s chronically in need of repair. In some cases, their children are growing up illiterate because they can’t get them to school. We have many thousands of poor people in our city who deserve cars.”

Meeting the need is the church’s used-car ministry, composed of seven volunteers who perform automotive repairs for people who can’t afford to pay for them. In addition to repairing cars, the ministry sometimes receives donated used cars from the community or other church members and gives these cars to needy families. Since 1986, the ministry has received and distributed between fifteen and twenty cars.

Creating a used-car ministry

The idea emerged in September 1985 when First United Methodist held a three-day seminar entitled “Motivation for Ministry,” designed to get church members thinking about community ministry.

During the seminar, women, youth, teenagers, men, seniors, and other groups from the congregation met separately to examine the skills and interests they had to offer for community needs. Cards were distributed, and members were asked to write answers to the question, What specific needs do you see in the Tulsa community to which you wish our church was ministering?

Moffatt got back hundreds of cards, which were then categorized into forty-nine areas of ministry. A meeting room was designated for each category, and on the second day of the seminar participants were asked to go to the room where their ministry of choice was meeting. If four or more people showed up for a particular ministry, a ministry was launched.

“Thirty-nine groups had at least four people,” Moffatt remembers, “and after about two months, we had twenty-nine pretty consistent groups meeting every week and going to ministry sites. The car ministry happened because a group of men went into a room and said, ‘Well, what could we do?’ “

Art Radabaugh, a member of that group, felt concern for people who had jobs but no way to get to them. “We saw a need that no one was fulfilling and a way to reach out to people who don’t go to church,” he says. Most of the volunteers in the used-car ministry are members of the church. Only one is a professional mechanic; the group includes a systems engineer for IBM, an attorney, a sheetmetal worker, and a postal worker. “We hoped someone would come who knew what he was doing,” Radabaugh laughs, “but we found we were it.”

Screening repair requests

The used-car ministry began in March 1986. “We got our first jobs from previous contacts with families who had laid out their entire needs,” Moffatt says. “When I saw a situation where people were being pretty accountable and would be in much better shape if they had a car, I’d refer those people to the car-ministry group.” By the end of that year, its seven volunteers had performed between thirty and forty repair jobs.

Now the ministry is well known in the Tulsa area and frequently receives referrals from other churches. “If it’s car related, they almost always send them to us,” Moffatt says. The used-car ministry has received as many as six calls day .

Says Radabaugh, a computer operations manager during the day who serves as lay coordinator of the ministry: “It’s one of those crazy things where you don’t realize how much need is out there until you start doing it.”

Moffatt initially screens the callers to determine who genuinely would benefit from receiving repair work or a donated car, and then refers these people to Radabaugh. After visiting the prospective recipient and assessing the extent of needed repairs, Radabaugh decides if the person’s need falls within the scope of the ministry.

“I try to get enough information,” he says, “so I don’t run out and work on somebody’s car if he could easily afford to have the repair done. I haven’t run across a person yet who took advantage of the situation.”

Most of the repairs handled by the group are minor in nature. One member of the church owns a car dealership and sometimes offers its repair facilities for more demanding repairs. Donations to the ministry go into a small fund for purchasing items such as mufflers or retreads.

Radabaugh performs two or three repair jobs a week and funnels others to the other members of the group. “When I call them for a repair job, they’re very willing to help, depending on their schedule. They’ve always responded. So far no member has dropped out. Every six months, in fact, we add one or two.”

He usually spends part of Saturday and one or two evenings a week involved in the ministry.

Repair responses

“We don’t push people we serve to become members of our church,” says Moffatt. “However, if they say to us, ‘How come you’re doing this?’ we talk about our faith and our church. But we always wait until they ask. We never go in and say, ‘We’ll help you with your car if you come to our church service.’ “

Radabaugh says he’s surprised more people don’t express their appreciation for receiving the free repair work. Nevertheless, he views it as a great way to share his faith.

“When you’re bent over someone’s car, you have a captive audience,” he says. “The majority of people, however, don’t even say thank you. It’s like they expect it. I have to take it as a basic commentary on human nature, but the ministry’s always worth it.

“Some Saturdays, repair jobs are all I do,” Radabaugh says. “We’ve had a lot of good experiences. Even though most people don’t come in or write a thank-you note, they are appreciative.”

One Tulsa resident, who needed car repair told Moffatt, “I called every church in the yellow pages to find help. What your church is doing, I have never seen anywhere.”

MORE IDEAS

The Two-Document System

Except for the building cornerstone with the founding date chiseled into it, a church constitution is probably the hardest thing for a pastor to change. But what do you do when that guiding document becomes so encrusted with rules, procedures, and guidelines that it practically binds and gags the church body?

This problem faced Martin Dahlquist, pastor of Fellowship Baptist Church in Warsaw, Indiana. The church’s constitution, for example, specified the date and time of the annual congregational meeting. It had to be in December, and often it fell on the worst snow day of the year; if it had to be cancelled, the congregation technically could not meet for another year. Communion was permitted only four times per year. And so on.

“Meetings were especially giving us problems,” Dahlquist says. “I’d have things for the congregation to vote on, but if we didn’t gather a quorum, according to the constitution, we’d have to wait at least two weeks before we could meet again. Many points in a church constitution simply represent yesterday’s wounds and pain; they don’t apply to today’s operational problems.”

Dahlquist’s solution was to establish a policy manual-separate from the constitution-in which operational specifics such as meeting times would be outlined. These specifics could then be changed without major congregational upheaval. Most items in the policy manual could be changed by a simple board vote.

Everyone in the church was given the opportunity to participate in rewriting the constitution and formulating the policy guide. “We went back to our constitution and asked at each point, ‘Is this really necessary?’ ” remembers Dahlquist. “If not, it was taken out and placed in the policy manual.”

The policy manual has been in effect since 1987. For example, recently the board felt the need to change the terms of appointed positions from two years to one. Before, that would have required a written notice to the congregation two weeks before an all-congregation meeting specifically to decide that question. But under the two-document system, the board was able to make the change without having to run the gauntlet. “No one has said we should go back to the old system,” Dahlquist says.

“A church is a living, breathing ministry,” he says, “and yet I’ve been at churches with constitutions thirty years old that haven’t been reviewed. I recommend the two-document system for helping any church become more flexible.”

-Reported by Dan Coran

Adopt a Piece of Church Grounds

Ever since the Christian church began meeting in public buildings rather than homes, some 1,600 years ago, it’s had an accompanying problem: keeping up the buildings. Money, time, and energy for repairs and maintenance seem always in short supply.

The problem faced First Presbyterian Church in Gadsden, Alabama. “As in Ezra and Nehemiah’s day, our ‘temple’ had fallen into disrepair,” says pastor E. Langston Haygood. “And long grass and dirty nurseries are not going to attract many newcomers.”

Then a member proposed a “Cleanup Plan”: Every family in the congregation would take responsibility for just one area of the church-room, entrance, hall, office, or other space. After an initial cleanup, that family would check its area the first Sunday of each month.

The church passed around a four-page sign-up sheet listing every area of the facility. Next to each area from two to six families could sign up. Those who were unable to participate in the actual cleanup could make financial (or material) contributions for furniture, plants, playground equipment, paint, or carpet. At First Presbyterian, over seventy families signed up, although many people who didn’t sign up helped as well (such as international students who couldn’t make a long-term commitment).

Then, the church designated July for an initial clean up, fix up, paint, and repair campaign. On the final Saturday of the month, an all-church work day added focus and enthusiasm.

Finally, they designed a follow-up procedure. On the first Sunday of each month, “Nehemiah Sunday,” each area is checked by the people who signed up to care for it. Two members, Jack Blackburn and Betty Batson, supervise the monthly inspections.

The by-product of this project, according to Haygood, “is a renewed consciousness on the part of the congregation to take care of the church facility. It also creates a sense of fellowship and harmony. A month after our July work party, we viewed a slide presentation of the day. One little girl, who had not been able to participate on our cleanup day, said, ‘I wish I could have been there.’ “

Willow Creek Community Church in South Barrington, Illinois, has a similar program that focuses not on the building but the grounds.

Dubbed “Adopt-a-Bed,” the program coordinates almost fifty volunteers who each take responsibility to care for one flower bed, shrub bed, or cluster of trees on the church grounds. Volunteers come once a week during the growing season-in northern Illinois, about 26 weeks-to weed, cultivate, pinch flowers in the annual beds, and pick up trash. A key attraction of the program is the flexible schedule: volunteers can come at whatever time is most convenient for them.

“We have couples in their sixties and a mom who brings four kids along,” says Tom Trayser, a church staff member who helps coordinate the program. “Most say, ‘This is a great release after working or caring for kids all week.’ “

The program was designed five years ago by staff members Kurt Olson and Sherry Masters, says Trayser, “because there was more work than we could handle, and we wanted to allow those who had these gifts to serve.” It has run smoothly, thanks to a few guidelines:

Volunteers are required to attend an April seminar on landscape maintenance, so they handle the work properly and from the same approach. “It gives the grounds the appearance of having a single landscaper,” Trayser says.

Volunteers do not handle any chemicals.

An annual summer picnic unites the volunteers and boosts morale.

The problems have been minor: an occasional missing tool from the church storage shed, and infrequently, a call to people who have neglected their commitment. Meanwhile, the savings have been enormous. Says Trayser, “When you multiply 50 volunteers by 26 weeks by 1 or 2 hours each week times about $6 an hour (a typical rate for a landscaping worker), you can see that we save thousands of dollars each year.”

What’s Worked for You?

Each published account of a local church doing something in a fresh, effective way earns up to $35. Send your description of a helpful ministry, method, or approach to:

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LEADERSHIP

465 Gundersen Drive

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Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Imagine yourself at the rudder of a sailboat when a squall catches you in the middle of the lake. Gusts threaten to capsize the craft unless you can make it to shore.

Then picture yourself paddling a canoe through a stretch of rapids. If you don't position yourself properly in the current, you'll be smashed on the rocks.

The job is simple, right? In both cases, all you have to do is steer. But unless you're experienced, "just steering" is plenty of challenge, thank you. And even if you have experience in other kinds of boats, navigating this kind of vessel in these conditions is quite unlike your previous training. In other words, it's about like leading a church. One church will require different pastoral skills from another.

To investigate the mysteries of charting the course for a church, the editors of LEADERSHIP gathered five pastors who bring diverse styles to their diverse churches:

-Milton Cunningham is the pastor of Westbury Baptist Church in Houston, Texas, where he has been for sixteen years.

-Wayne Jacobsen pastors The Savior's Community in Visalia, California, a congregation he helped start eight years ago.

-Joe Rhodes is pastor of New Hope Church in San Diego, a congregation he planted seven years ago.

-Ray Stedman has, for thirty-eight years, pastored Peninsula Bible Church in Palo Alto, California.

-Mick Ukleja pastors Grace Church of Los Alamitos, California, a congregation formed by the 1987 merger of two churches.

Leadership: Does a church inevitably reflect the personality of its pastor?

Mick Ukleja: Usually, and that can be good or bad. It's bad if the pastor is not following the Lord. But most churches will reflect a certain style, a certain approach to ministry, that comes from the pastor.

Joe Rhodes: I would say it a bit differently. I don't think the church will take on my personality. But over time, I do think the church will reflect the heart of the pastor.

Ray Stedman: Our church's approach is not to recognize the pastor. We have pastors. Although I've been there the longest, I resist the title of senior pastor, partly because it has overtones of executive direction and control, which we reject. But it's true: we who operate as pastors have tremendous influence over those to whom we minister.

Milton Cunningham: A leader can't help but mold the nature of the group. But there's a danger in building an organization on the power of one individual. When a church is an extension of that pastor's personality and leadership, and that pastor resigns or relocates or dies, that congregation almost invariably dwindles. At the turn of the century, Talmadge, Spurgeon, and Moody all had huge congregations that were, in many ways, extensions of their personalities. Those types of congregations have real difficulty after the leader passes on.

Wayne Jacobsen: There are dangers even before the pastor leaves. We've all seen churches where attendance drops off significantly if people know the pastor is away on vacation. I've seen churches from my background, the charismatic tradition, in which you notice the people will all clap, sing, and pray just like the visible leader up front.

When you put one person up front, that style will inevitably be emulated by those watching. At our church, we want to reflect Jesus Christ as the Head of the church, and we feel the best way to do that is to allow people with different personalities, not just pastors, to share in leadership. That diffuses the personality factor and allows people to focus more on what Jesus wants them to be. We want to distribute the up-front visibility.

Leadership: If spreading the leadership around is such a good idea, why don't more churches do it?

Stedman: The leader's insecurity.

Ukleja: That's a bit of a generalization. There are many pastors who don't feel insecure who function as the primary leader. They don't play down their popularity. They use their position, their visibility, to draw people to Christ and to the church.

Stedman: Well, another reason one leader dominates is that it takes some training to put others in that position. There's a great deal of congregational pressure to stick with the person who does the job best, who seems the most relaxed and most capable. It takes a while before others arrive at that stage of acceptance.

Leadership: so people feel more comfortable knowing "who's in charge here"?

Stedman: It's part of human nature. But it's something to be resisted. In 1 Corinthians, Paul addresses the church's tendency to follow a popular favorite, whether Paul, Peter, Apollos, or whomever. Paul labels that an outgrowth of carnality. He says he understands where it comes from, but it is also very dangerous because it fails to appreciate the diversity in the body of Christ. It keeps people divided into groups that usually become rivalries, and in general it's an inappropriate way of leading a congregation.

Jacobsen: In that context, the whole thing came down to personal preference. Our culture is certainly acclimated to preferences, too. I'm affected by them. Obviously I prefer certain people to lead our worship because of their style. I'd rather listen to other people teach because they're more interesting, addressing the subjects I'm concerned about.

While some of that is an expression of spiritual gifts, I think the strength of the body of Christ is in its diversity, not in its singularity of style.

We can give in to preferences, and sometimes the fastest growing churches have a leader that people gravitate to-that's part of the draw-but I'm not sure we find that as a biblical model for the church.

Ukleja: I think strong pastoral leadership can be misused, but so can the multiple-leader concept. I went to seminary with men who felt one way was more spiritual than another, and they literally destroyed churches with their co-pastorates, plurality of elders, or whatever. Carnality can rear its ugly head in any situation.

If we're talking about diversity within the body of Christ, I think there's room for different styles of leadership.

Cunningham: The effectiveness of any plan is dependent upon the integrity and spiritual commitment of the people involved. There's nothing sacred about any organizational plan.

The size and the location of the congregation have a lot to do with which approach you take. If you're in West Texas ranching country, the pastor is it-he has 51 percent of the voting stock on whatever the issue. When you move into the metropolitan areas, you're in a different culture. People are more comfortable with shared leadership, and staff members aren't necessarily seen as subservient.

Leadership: How would you describe your role as pastor in setting the direction of your churches?

Jacobsen: We don't "set direction." I see it more as "creating a climate"-a climate of personal growth, of ministry release. Direction comes from people saying they have a calling to start a food bank and minister to the homeless. Then, if we find ten or twelve others in our body who share that vision, we get them together and tell them to go for it.

We don't even consider a building project a direction issue. We consider it a climate issue. As elders, we take responsibility for what kind of climate we provide for people who come to grow in the Lord. Beyond that, we don't have a lot of direction as a church. We don't have any idea what we'll be doing in five years. It depends on what God raises up.

Leadership: Perhaps a better word for direction would be purpose or vision-what the church ought to be about.

Stedman: That touches the essential role of the pastor-to proclaim the scriptural pattern. Pastors teach others how to function. They teach elders how to be elders and teach people in the congregation how to have a ministry that touches other lives wherever they live. Pastors are proclaiming leadership principles all the time. That's how we make our primary impact.

Rhodes: One thing I'd add: even with the setup where the pastor is the primary leader, there should be accountability. Although I may through prayer and the Word and meditation say, "This is where I think God wants to lead us," we have a board, and I want to make sure I'm on track. They're the people who ensure I'm not just sitting in the ivory tower pointing some direction that may not be right.

Leadership: Ray, most people would look at you and say, "Whether Ray admits it or not, he's the leader at his church. People look to him for direction." Have you ever had a major decision go against you?

Stedman: Not long ago, we were looking for a music minister, and I had some strong opinions about what we needed. A couple came to us, and they were exactly what I was looking for. I presented this couple and endorsed them strongly, but our board voted not to call them.

They feared the candidate might be too much a musician. They wanted more of a people person. I thought we could work with him because he had what we wanted musically. They saw it differently.

I supported the board's right to do that. At the meeting, I said I was committed to consensus leadership on this, and if the board decided no, then we wouldn't go in that direction.

Ukleja: You probably still could have gotten your way. You could have pulled a power play and made this an issue of your leadership. I've seen some pastors do that. But you were saying this is minuscule and knew when to ease off. That's not weakness; that's being a good leader.

We did the same thing when we first merged our two churches. We wanted to pick a name, and the name the staff and I were sold on was voted down. Well, there are two ways to react to that: you can be offended and fight until you get your way, or you can sit back and laugh about it. We laughed.

It was the right thing to do. It proved to the people that the stationery wasn't already printed, that they really do have a voice in the direction around here; we're all in this thing together.

Jacobsen: I'll give you an example not so minuscule-from yesterday. For six months, my co-pastor and I have talked and prayed about planting a new congregation. We agreed it would enhance what we'd like to see happen both numerically and relationally.

Yesterday, we made that specific proposal to our elders, and after a two-hour meeting, the group concluded, "We're open to it as a future possibility, but we feel it would deplete our resources at this point to try to make two of one." They didn't want to risk harming what God is doing among us.

That's not a minuscule issue to me.

But for me, the key factor in this is trust. When I have six other people sitting there, who I know are spending solid time with the Lord and have deep compassion for what God wants to do in the body, I don't go away saying, "I didn't get my way, and now the church is going the wrong direction." I take it as the leading of the Lord.

Leadership: You all have been very kind dealing with this subject. (Laughter) We've heard three stories about times when a decision didn't go your way, and you were diplomatic. "God has spoken, and I can accept that." Some people might even believe you-who knows? (Laughter)

What's your real response when a decision doesn't go your way? Do you honestly say, to use an NFL phrase, "Upon further review . . ." and reverse your call? Wayne, are you changing your mind about planting a new congregation because the elders voted you down?

Jacobsen: Well, their thoughts were that this is something we will do-someday. The decision yesterday was a matter of timing. So I'm not giving up. I expect to move this direction at a future point.

I go back to Philippians 2, which we use a lot, where Paul exhorts the body to be of one mind-"If there is any fellowship of the Spirit, any comfort from his love, any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being of one mind."

If we're not of one mind as a group, we don't just go with a majority. We've had occasions where we've been split 7-1 and we've gone with the seven, only later to find out that the one was right. Yesterday it was 6-2, so we'll wait awhile. But everyone realizes, "This isn't over yet, because we're not together yet, and until we're together, we've still got seeking to do."

We don't consider any decision complete until all eight are in agreement.

Leadership: How do you decide whether resistance means it's time to back off and leave the issue alone (such as Mick's name preference), or whether this resistance is something you need to work through (such as Wayne's new congregation)?

Cunningham: In our congregation, eight or ten people know the pulse of the church. They represent different groups within the membership. If I were going to present an issue, before it ever came up publicly, I would want to talk individually with those people. I wouldn't ask them then to tell me what they think; I'd ask them to pray about it and get back with me.

And when they'd come back with their reactions, I'd listen. Often I can sense they're not ready to swallow it yet. I'm not going to put the church or even a committee in a position so they feel it's them against me. There are ways to test the temperature of the water long before you ever get in.

Many times pastors find themselves in trouble because they surprised the group they're working with. The group feels they're asked to make a decision on something they haven't thought about, and they feel pressure, so they resist. And then the pastor feels rejected because "they didn't follow my leadership." But that's not the case at all. It was a case of not preparing the soil. All of us do better when we're not surprised.

Stedman: My degree of commitment to a cause is directly related to the degree I see the issue encouraged in Scripture. If the Bible enjoins us to do something, I'll keep pushing until something happens. I don't try to overwhelm people, but to persuade them.

Leadership: For example . . .

Stedman: I'll go back to our beginning years, because we've laid so much scriptural groundwork through the following years that we're pretty much agreed on those things now. But in the beginning, some of our leaders felt we needed more altar calls.

I never did appreciate them. I didn't want to move in that direction. Some of the elders felt we were not being faithful to the Scriptures if we didn't give an invitation at the end of every message.

I refused. Not harshly. I simply dragged my heels until I could lay some groundwork. By the time we'd discussed it thoroughly and examined the Scriptures on it, they at least were willing to try a different direction.

But if it's a matter of a cultural issue, or economic issue, or as Milton points out, if people simply are not ready, I don't press very hard.

Ukleja: With resistance, we have to ask the question why. Is resistance because of a biblically based concept; or at least a misconceived biblical concept? Or is the resistance simply because they're not used to the idea?

In the first instance, you can lay out the biblical framework. In the second, you let the idea slowly gain acceptance.

Leadership: Let's look at your role in creating the climate of your church, specifically through preaching. How does your preaching affect the climate?

Cunningham: I'm a people person. I spend time with people and see what their needs are. I also work with community leaders on our side of the city and hear them talk about the principal needs of our city.

I present these to our people. Identifying needs that our church should be attentive to is an important function of preaching. It sets a climate.

Ukleja: Preaching is not the place for training. You need to get people into smaller groups for that. But preaching is where you sow ideas and philosophy.

For example, one big area I emphasize in preaching is getting out of the pew and into the community. The Word is replete with that concept. So I describe "rabbit hole Christianity"-where some Christians dart from rabbit hole to rabbit hole, and their goal for the week is to get from Sunday to Sunday without encountering a non-Christian. I try to show from the Bible how that's contrary to God's intention. We're not into separation through isolation, but separation through distinction.

And then, in our smaller groups, we try to implement that in all kinds of creative ways-from soccer clinics for neighborhood kids to seminars for business people.

Leadership: Joe, as a church planter, what did you try to accomplish with your preaching in the early years?

Rhodes: Seven years ago, I must admit, climate didn't occur to me. Initially I was just trying to teach the Word in a way that was practical.

Since then the climate issue has become important. For example, if we're going to go a certain direction, the first thing I want to do is establish a theological basis and a "Why are we going to do this?" framework.

Leadership: What are some of the nonpreaching ways you as pastors help set the climate?

Rhodes: By our involvements. For me, it's important to be involved in personal evangelism and a personal prayer life. I can stand and say these things are important, but, especially in a smaller church where people know you well, it's got to be backed up by a demonstration in my life.

Jacobsen: I agree. It's like the old saying: "What you do shouts so loud, I can't hear what you're saying."

Another way we set the climate is what we expect in terms of people's time. At our church, we talk about "ministry release," and yet if we were providing programs at the church three or four nights a week and expecting people to be involved, we'd be effectively discounting the encouragement we're giving them to touch the world.

So the way we set the program, how many nights we use, and the kinds of things we expect our committed people to be involved in-all speak loudly about our priorities.

Leadership: Another issue of climate control: Where do you fall on the continuum between initiating and responding? Is your role as pastor one of initiating ministry ideas or waiting to encourage ideas that percolate up from church members?

Cunningham: Unless you want a dictatorial leadership role, you've got to foster an atmosphere of openness, and that means responding to ideas. At the same time, because of our involvement in the community and in the lives of people, pastors cannot help but be the initiators.

I wound up spearheading much of our emphasis on youth, for instance. This was a personal burden of mine. I knew the problems of alcoholism and drugs, and I'd heard the "Just Say No" approach. But I also knew kids needed to say yes to something solid. So I began mentioning it in sermons and talking about the needs in casual conversations. Then the questions started coming: "What are we going to do?" "What do you want me to do?" "How can I get involved?"

So in a way, I was the initiator. But people had to respond voluntarily before anything could happen.

On the other hand, I've been a responder, too. Some folks came to me saying they felt the Lord wanted them to go through the training to work with young people who are having problems with chemical dependency. My response was basically, "Go to it!" And they did. I shared with the church that this is how God is leading in their lives, and we've prayed for them.

Leadership: How much control do you bring to this whole process when you are responding?

Jacobsen: My philosophy is that any idea is fair game; let's talk about it. We'll ask: Is it biblical? Is the timing correct? Those kinds of questions.

Leadership: How do you handle the ideas that would commit the church to a major investment of funds or volunteers?

Jacobsen: For the most part, we try not to make these ideas church ministries-at least not at first. We want to be supportive of them, but we work not to take ownership of them.

Say, for instance, a couple of church members want to feed the poor in our area. We release them to invest their time where their vision is. But we don't want to force the church to decide if feeding the poor is a greater priority than having a special Christmas outreach that will draw the community.

Rather than prioritizing things ourselves, we trust the Holy Spirit to put the priority in people's hearts. We say, "If you can find others in the body who share that vision, get together and decide what you need and how you want to do it. If you need money, submit a request to the board, and we'll see how we can help you get it."

Our approach is, "If that's your vision, then you do it and we'll help you." But don't say, "This is my vision for the church to do." We don't feel that's being fair to the church. Not everybody here will have the same calling, but we hope that, as the Holy Spirit works through the whole body, the right things will carry the right priority.

Leadership: What role have you played in the major decisions that affect the character of the church?

Cunningham: We had a painful situation five years ago when a group within our church came under the influence of the "health/wealth gospel." They began teaching that if you have faith in God, you'll never be sick; if you take medicine, you don't have faith; and that our church wasn't teaching the whole counsel of God, because we didn't teach that medicine was wrong.

It became divisive. I met with our deacons, and they said, "This is tearing us apart." They asked me what I'd like to do.

I said, "If it meets with your approval, I'd like to state publicly that those holding that position will no longer hold places of responsibility in the teaching ministry of our church." The deacons agreed, I made the statement the next Sunday, and we lost a couple of hundred people.

There are times when you have to bite the bullet. I made sure the statement was a representative statement of the deacons-not just my statement. But I had to take a stand, and it definitely affected the direction of our church. Healing has come slowly. Looking back, I still feel it was the right decision.

Rhodes: I think the pastor's role often is to maintain the right spirit in the midst of decision making. I had a seminary professor who said, "You have to do two things to be effective: love God and love people."

I've hung on to that. In leading people, I recognize the direction we go is important, but it's equally important to love each other in the process.

Jacobsen: When we were discussing some of the issues we've had trouble agreeing on, one of our elders said, "What the Lord wants is not for us to be right about the decision as much as he wants us to be right in our relationship with each other."

Cunningham: That's true. The only way we can ever be like Jesus Christ is in our relationship to the people we find around us.

Leadership: The last issue: How much platform and organizational visibility does a pastor need to be effective? Is being visible something you consciously do, or consciously refrain from doing?

Rhodes: People often perceive that if the pastor doesn't personally endorse something, it's not really important. If I don't highlight an upcoming program, for instance, people feel that it's not going to succeed because I'm not backing it.

I lead more of the worship service than I'd like to. I certainly believe in a pastor giving leadership, particularly in the critical areas, but also I want to communicate to our people that I don't run the show and that the Holy Spirit can lead through any one of them. By me doing everything from the invocation to the announcements to the sermon, I'm modeling possibly something different from that. That concerns me.

Leadership: Some church analysts would say people need a visible leader to identify with-that it's hard to develop a sense of belonging in a group without a visible leader. Have you found that true?

Jacobsen: I'd say it's true from a carnal perspective-without being judgmental, of course. (Laughter)

I think it recognizes certain cultural realities. But we've got to be true to what God has called us to be. We're not going to allow one personality to predominate at The Savior's Community. We're going to put a variety of people up front. I'll be up front only half the time during the year, and other people at other times. Many Sundays I do nothing but sit and participate with everybody else.

Cunningham: The issue of gifts fits in here. Some people open their mouths in front of a group only to change feet. They shouldn't be on the platform, but they do other things remarkably well.

Stedman: Leadership is a shifting thing, according to the gift, according to the circ*mstance. It's folly to decide one person always will be the leader. One person is the leader when those gifts are needed. When they're not needed, someone else is the leader. It's a constantly shifting process.

Cunningham: Being a visible leader doesn't put you in conflict with the principles of the New Testament church. I am a Christian because I saw the gospel incarnate in a life. Being visible is necessary.

Jacobsen: Let me clarify. It's not carnal to exercise leadership. The reference to carnality was to people who can't identify with the life of Christ unless a particular person is in front. To resist that tendency, we pluralize the leadership, but that's not leaderlessness.

Leadership: To wrap up, give us a candid assessment of what you've done for your church. What has been your greatest contribution as a leader?

Ukleja: I'd say building bridges to the community and getting people to see that church is more than just coming together; it's getting them in touch with those we're trying to reach.

Cunningham: I think mine would be in the area of missions focus. Over the years we've bought property for and started ten churches in Brazil and five in Mexico. We've started four mission churches in Houston, and we have three different language congregations as part of our church now. And I also feel good about the fact that our church is as integrated as it is.

Rhodes: What I hear people say back to me is that people are important. I stress unity and accepting each other, loving each other. If there are walls, let's overcome them. I want our church to be a people who care about people.

Jacobsen: I've worked hardest at getting people turned on to personal discipleship and not to see their participation in structures of the church as equal to their personal obedience to Christ. I hope people know our church exists to do nothing except to equip people to know God personally and to share that relationship with others.

Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Recently I visited a church well known for its specialized ministries to street people, unwed mothers, international students, business executives, mothers of preschoolers, and other target groups.

But in the worship service that day, the focus was not on their carefully planned outreach; it was on something less likely to get the attention of the media, less likely to be the theme of the next pastors’ conference.

The service centered around two ancient ordinances: baptism and the Lord’s Supper. As the five new believers were baptized, we heard the familiar words, “Buried with Christ in baptism; raised to walk in newness of life.”

Moments later, we were taking the bread and the cup and remembering Christ’s words, “This do in remembrance of me.”

The pastor didn’t deliver a sermon. He simply told about individuals in the congregation who had ministered to others within the body: a couple whose young son had died, an older man with cancer, a single parent struggling with teenage children.

We were reminded that day that the foundation of all our exciting and well-planned ministries is the quality of our love for one another.

It’s good to have goals and strategies that focus on mission, and this issue of LEADERSHIP is devoted to the topic. But as I took Communion that day, I realized setting goals is a relatively new idea. We look in vain in the church’s classical creeds for any mention of specific goals. According to historic Christianity, the church was not structured to accomplish measurable goals; it was established by God to be something.

Yes, it’s vital that we do ministry, and do it well. It’s even more important that we be God’s people.

One of my interests this past year has been the quality of family life, especially for those of us active in church ministry. As I researched and wrote the book The Healthy Hectic Home, I felt anew the pressures and the opportunities of a family that orbits the church. I was particularly struck by the unique stabilizing role that must be played by the pastor’s spouse.

Recently, the editors of LEADERSHIP launched a new magazine for wives in ministry. Sunday to Sunday is a digest-sized quarterly that speaks to both the funny and fearsome sides of being a ministry family. It’s for people who see the cartoon on this page and can respond with a knowing grin.

Each issue focuses on a theme pastors’ wives have requested, such as “Conversational Counseling,” “Ministry Marriage,” and “Friendship.” Articles take the same “Here’s the situation I faced and how I handled it” approach that readers have said they appreciate in LEADERSHIP.

Managing editor Bonnie Rice, herself a product of a pastor’s family, has pulled together excellent contributors like Jill Briscoe, Lauretta Patterson, Martha Reapsome, and Lynne Hybels.

As you’ll notice on the subscription card in this issue, we’re offering LEADERSHIP readers a discount on Sunday to Sunday-a year’s worth for $6.

A pastor’s wife wrote recently to say, “I like Sunday to Sunday’s mix between serious/helpful and humorous/lighthearted selections. I also like the compactness of the magazine-it’s easy to carry around, and I can read it in one sitting.”

My only fear is that if too many readers start wanting magazines they can tuck in their Bibles and read in one sitting, LEADERSHIP is in trouble.

Marshall Shelley is editor of LEADERSHIP.

Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

When my son asked if I could meet him for lunch at our favorite Chinese restaurant, I didn’t ask why. Wesley was 19, good looking, an idealistic dreamer, and engaged to an attractive 23-year-old woman he’d met at Bible college.

My wife, Barb, and I thought Wesley was too young for marriage and had said so repeatedly. “Give yourself and your relationship more time to mature,” we had said. But when you’re 19, the future spreads out before you.

Perhaps he wants to talk it through, I thought. Maybe he finally heard our feelings.

“Dad,” he said, “we’re going to have a baby.”

I sat stunned.

“I’m sorry to hurt you like this. We’re going to go ahead and get married right away.”

All I could do was pick at my food and grasp for some response. Finally, I excused myself to make a phone call. For a long moment I stared at the pay phone. Then I dialed the church office and spoke in controlled tones to the familiar voice of our secretary at the other end.

“Kill the announcement of my new sermon series, will you? I’ve been having some second thoughts.”

“I’m sorry, Pastor. It’s already gone to press.”

“Okay,” I replied finally. “I’ll deal with it later. Please let my wife know I’ve had lunch with Wesley and will be leaving for home in a few minutes. It is important she be there.”

Walking slowly back to the table, my thoughts kept coming back to the sermon series to begin this Sunday: “The Future Family.”

I told Wesley and Cindy that I needed to tell the church board. They wanted to meet with the board as well, but I said no. It was their marriage and their baby, but I was in a protectionist mood. Their problem had become my problem.

When my five board members gathered for the special meeting, I presented the events. “If even one of you feels this would be too much for the church family to absorb,” I said, “I’ll tender my resignation with understanding. But we feel it’s important to stand with our family, especially with this yet-to-be-married couple if they are to have any chance for a successful future.” If that included resigning, that’s the way it would have to be.

To a person, the board affirmed me and my family. One reminded me of how I had stood with him in a similar crisis. We prayed together and cried together.

As word of our situation surfaced, there were no confrontations or accusations from church members. Only those closest to us mentioned anything, and then simply to encourage. Some helped with Wesley and Cindy’s uninsured medical expenses. Others threw a baby shower. Wesley and Cindy were thankful.

It was a small May wedding. After a brief honeymoon, Wesley and Cindy moved in with her parents until they could get on their feet financially. The arrangement ended six weeks later with an explosive and embarrassing confrontation with her parents.

Knowing they needed some privacy, we let them spend the next month house-sitting while we went on vacation. Soon after our return, they rented an apartment about a mile away.

Throughout the summer, I continued my series on the family. Questions dogged my study time: What went wrong? How could we have been so blind? How do people feel about what I’m telling them?

But in a sense, each Sunday was cathartic. With each important issue, I reexamined my own parenting.

I’d often said that whether good or bad, we are always an example. And now I felt so imperfect. I am by nature quiet and private when it comes to personal matters. I wanted to retreat. But the church was in a funding campaign for a new building, so there were demands to be in the public eye. Often, though, while alone, I found myself staring at the wall.

In November, our daughter, Lenea, was married in a large and beautiful ceremony. At the end of the rehearsal dinner, Wesley said wistfully, “This is a lot different from our wedding, isn’t it?”

Two weeks later, on Thanksgiving, we became grandparents of a beautiful baby girl. Wesley was euphoric. Cindy proudly showed off their little miracle. At long last it seemed things might be coming together.

They did smile and laugh when they visited us. But, we heard, their apartment had become a war zone of angry, hurtful words. Already unsure of himself, Wes felt the pressure mounting. So did Cindy. But how do two young people, filled with remorse and rage, reach out to each other when the feeling of forever entrapment keeps growing?

Increasingly we saw Cindy go home to her mother. Wesley would brood in anger, with a drink to kill the pain. As the pain increased, so did the number of drinks.

Many in our church gave them loving support-probably too many. All the friendly voices, sympathetic voices, stern voices sounded wrong to them. To Cindy, they came from “his father’s congregation.” To Wes, they sounded like “just what Mom and Dad would say.” It was like having hundreds of close relatives around, and they felt guilty and embarrassed. People might not say much about our “premature” child, but what must they be thinking?

Wesley couldn’t stop feeling he had let us down. We said we’d forgiven him, but in his mind, he was the black sheep.

Wes drifted through a series of ill-suited jobs-selling cars, installing burglar alarms, finally a job with an aircraft firm. Cindy worked in a restaurant and sold art objects on the side. Together they struggled with finances and hopelessness.

We tried to help, but also stay out of the way. Then they both began to come to us for counsel and suggestions-the word of wisdom their pastor-parents always seemed to have for everyone else. But when are you an impartial pastor and when a concerned parent? We weren’t sure, and we decided to help pay for professional Christian marriage counseling. But even this was suspect: How could Cindy trust the psychologist when he was a friend of Wesley’s family?

One day Wesley called. He had returned from work to find the apartment empty. Everything Cindy had brought into their life was gone: the baby, the furniture, the wedding gifts from her side of the family. What remained was heaped in a pile in the center of the apartment. On top lay a carefully wrapped birthday gift and a note saying she wanted a divorce.

That evening we gathered around the dining room table and watched twenty-one candles burn low on the birthday cake. No one felt like singing.

Early the next spring, the divorce papers were signed. Three months later, Cindy remarried.

Wesley lived with us for the next few months. Then one day, he announced he was starting a home repair and remodeling business. That’s what he’d always wanted to do, he said.

He was receiving lots of encouragement from a young woman in our church. Jean’s parents were supportive of the idea, too. He loved working with wood and was quite good at it. Jobs started coming.

But to us, Wes’s relationship with Jean seemed to be moving much too fast. Barb and I saw what appeared to be the classic rebound relationship. Wes felt differently. So did Jean’s parents. I met with them one evening after church, and we talked candidly about the future of our kids. But we left as we had come, with greatly different views of the situation.

Then came the announcement: Jean and Wes were getting married. Jean’s parents were planning a big church wedding. This time there would even be a rehearsal dinner.

One Sunday, as I left for the first service, the tension in our house boiled over. Barb and I told him we were worried about the new relationship. “It’s moving too fast,” we said.

“For someone who’s paid to be sensitive, you sure don’t care how I feel,” Wes shot back. We started yelling at each other. I tried to explain as dispassionately as I could that the tension in the house had taken its toll on everybody and it was time for him to live somewhere else.

He listened in cold anger and said, “I’ll be gone before you get home from church.”

As I pulled out of our driveway, I thought, I’m on my way to church. I’m supposed to bring inspiration and strength to God’s people. They are gathering to hear words of hope and encouragement from the Lord. But I can’t focus. We’re losing our son. Life is out of control.

Preaching used to be fun, the highlight of the week. Now I dreaded it. As I pulled into the church lot, I thought, I don’t want to see anybody, much less talk to anyone. How will I get through this? I’m dry, dry.

“Good morning, everyone! Welcome! Let’s stand and sing Hymn 415.”

On September 1, we were grandparents again as David and Lenea gave birth to a beautiful little girl. Not long after, David’s firm relocated them to Sacramento. This will be good for their marriage, we reasoned. They will be away from us, from the church, from all that’s familiar. They’ll have to rely on each other, just as we had to do in the early years of our marriage.

The following April, we all gathered for a sumptuous rehearsal dinner on the eve of Wesley’s wedding. The church was full of smiling people as I intoned the words of the wedding ceremony. “Until death do us part,” came automatically. I had tried to put together something special for this occasion, but it sounded like I felt: empty.

Not long after, Lenea and David happily told us she was pregnant again.

That summer, I approached my board. “After thirteen years in this pastorate, I need some extended time away,” I said. I didn’t go into all the reasons, but they knew. They agreed to a ten-week sabbatical the following year. If we can just hold ourselves together until then, I thought.

Barbie and I were spending a late September vacation at a friend’s oceanside home when my sister phoned from Washington. We knew my mother was scheduled for a relatively routine surgery, but life-threatening complications had set in. “No, don’t come yet,” my sister said. “Perhaps everything will level out. Just pray.”

But near the end of October, after two trips north, came the third and final journey. I conducted the funeral service at her church. In the crisp autumn air, we spoke words of love over the one who had been the family catalyst. Then we placed her next to our father. We divided her things among the children, listed her home for sale, said good-bye one last time, and closed the door. As we backed out of the driveway, she should have been standing there, waving.

Nineteen days later, Barb’s mother died of a heart attack. We once more hurriedly arranged for the pastoral staff to cover for us and caught the earliest available flight out. Another funeral home. More final arrangements.

“We’re pastoring,” we kept reminding ourselves on the return flight. Our lives had become a blur of airplanes, hospitals, funeral homes, and unfamiliar beds. We could only guess what the folks back home were thinking. “Perhaps they’re questioning whether the words of encouragement and hope we’ve given in their times of sorrow will work for us,” we guessed.

Meanwhile, the church needed attention, maybe more than we were capable of giving. Our part-time minister to children was planning to retire. Who would replace her? And another staff person was not succeeding. I had to break the news that it hadn’t worked out. I am not good at this, I thought. What did I miss when calling him ? I don’t feel like a very good senior pastor. Do I really want to do this the rest of my life?

In January, Lenea was rushed to the delivery room at the University of California Medical Center in San Francisco. Complications threatened her life and her unborn infant’s. Again we sat helplessly in a waiting room of plastic furniture and outdated magazines.

After several hours, a nurse brought word that Lenea was fine. In the sixth month of her pregnancy, she had given birth to a son. “The baby, however, is touch and go,” she continued. “He has received a complete blood transfusion and will need even more.” Further, the birth complications meant that Lenea and David should not attempt to have any more children.

Barbie and I looked at one another. They had dreamed of a big family. At least they have a girl and a boy. If only he makes it. He must! Our family is desperate for some kind of victory. Surely God owes us some good news.

For the next thirteen days, we commuted each day to the hospital, first to visit Lenea, then, after her release, to visit little Kristian Andrew, who was on life support. On day twelve, I found Lenea softly reading a familiar children’s story while stroking Kristian’s tiny hand. “Would you offer a dedication prayer for him?” she asked. The look in her eyes betrayed her anxiety. Nurses quietly went on with their work as we joined hands and presented little Kristian Andrew to God.

On day thirteen, the doctor told us our grandson was dying. He spoke to Lenea and David privately, recommending removal of the life support system. In somber resignation, they agreed.

I went down the hall and sat near the big window that opened toward the city. We’re beaten, I thought. We’ve lost. Where is God? What is left?

The clock on the wall was broken. Somehow it fit the moment. Time stopped as the doctor and nurse brought our grandson through the door. Each of us held him. Little Kristian Andrew died while cradled for the first time in his parents’ arms. He never opened his eyes. He never saw the sun. He never even cried.

We buried him on a sunny day in a nearby infants’ cemetery. A frog, hidden in the tall grass, croaked throughout the memorial service. What more could a little boy want? I thought. Except hearing it himself?

Meanwhile, Wesley continued his struggle with depression. He and Jean had been unable to deal with the open wounds from his recent past. At last, defeated and alone, he spent the night in a motel with a gun and a bottle. He didn’t pull the trigger, but the marriage ended. Jean went home to live with her parents.

Our church family graciously provided us with hotel reservations and a free weekend. For two days, the battered remains of our family walked white sand beaches and narrow village streets. We ate in quaint restaurants. Our granddaughter, Nicole, was delighted by her first visit to the ocean. Wesley looked devastated. David turned inward on his grief and disappointment. “Why?” Lenea wondered. “Why did God permit this to happen?”

As a family, we asked one another the questions we couldn’t ask anyone else. “What has gone wrong with us? Why is all this happening? Will it ever end? Do we have enough left in us to face the future?”

I was barely managing to go through the motions of being a pastor.

The following June, our pastoral staff and a few friends saw Barbie and me off at the airport for our sabbatical. Wesley joined us as well, looking like a lost soul. We wondered if he’d make it until we returned. But we couldn’t stay to find out. We couldn’t even trust our feelings. We had held them in too long.

Ten hours later, we touched down in Amsterdam. After the first Sunday with friends in Brussels, we didn’t go to church again the entire summer. We held our own quiet services by a lake in Switzerland. We stood reverently in the remains of a bombed-out church in Dresden. We lingered in the great cathedral of Barcelona. But we needed to be away from church for a while-any church where people spoke a language we understood and asked for what we could no longer give.

We called Lenea on her birthday from a subway in Munich: three minutes. We called Wesley on his birthday: no answer. We never called the church office; we only sent a card now and then. No one knew where we were, and that’s the way we needed it. Our only cares were where to sleep, what to eat, and where to drive the next day. Those ten weeks were a spiritual cocoon. Gradually, as the days rolled by, a miraculous metamorphosis began to occur.

Before leaving, we had spent some time with a professional counselor. We didn’t need another friend to sympathize; we needed a skilled and mature person in Christ who could tell us if we were handling things reasonably well. If not, where were we missing it? We could no longer be sure ourselves.

We followed his advice to take a book, How Do I Say “I Love You”? by William J. Krutza, to share with each other. We also took a one-volume church history by Kenneth Latourette. Everywhere we traveled, we read of God’s dealings with the church in that particular place. The split papacy in Avignon and Rome, the Reformation in Wittenberg and Worms-they all came alive. And while moving about the continent, we began to come alive as well. The European countryside, with its rolling green hills and quaint villages, had become for us a holy ground.

Late in August, with great reluctance, we turned in our rental car and boarded the return flight.

Wesley met us at the airport and helped carry our bags to the car. He looked pale. “I’m going to L.A.,” he said. He was closing what was left of his business. Too many clients hadn’t paid.

“When are you leaving?” I asked.

“Tomorrow.”

He stayed with a pastor for a while, working whenever he could. Then he got a job he was excited about. If it took off, there would be big bucks! He moved into a house with some new friends. It all sounds too good, we thought as we listened to his glowing reports on the phone and read his long, rambling letters. Something is wrong. But what?

Early in November, Wesley came home for Barbie’s birthday. We enjoyed our meal together until Wesley brought up how I had dismissed the staff member, a friend. One statement led to another, and in anger, Wesley left the table.

That night, Wesley stayed at a friend’s house. The next day, he came by to get his things. “I love you and Mom,” he said. “But the pain that surfaces each time we come together is too much. I can’t handle it anymore. I’m leaving, Dad. For good. Don’t expect me back. You and Mom think you’ve got everything figured out in life, but you don’t. And, Dad, you’re not nearly the pastor you think you are.”

We knew Wesley was in the area a time or two after that, but he never visited. Christmas came and went without even a phone call, only a long letter filled with anger and bitterness. Barbie and I missed him, but we talked about other things.

We turned our attention toward Lenea and her family. Our trauma and theirs had severely strained their marriage. Neither seemed to have anything left to give. Together, Barbie and I prayed daily for our family. Though this brought tremendous solace, we were unsure what God would do. At times, we even doubted what he could do.

We blamed ourselves. We questioned how we had reared our children. We saw all the places we could have done better. But, at the core, we were angry at God. I found myself envying friends in the ministry who had finished their role as parents successfully. Their children graduated from college, got married, had families, served the Lord. And looked incredibly happy. I felt cheated.

But like Peter, Barbie and I finally decided there was no one else to turn to. “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68).

One day, I noticed Barbie deeply engrossed in her Bible.

“What portion are you reading?” I asked.

“Job,” she said with a sheepish smile. “What else?”

“Me, too,” I said. “You know I’ve never liked Job. He always leaves me depressed. But I’m reading there, too. I guess he’s the only biblical character I can identify with right now. I think I’m starting to understand him.”

In the summer, almost seven years after our conversation in the Chinese restaurant, a phone call came, and Wesley and I talked again.

“Dad, I’m in trouble.”

“What’s the problem, Wes?”

He had been employed by an unsavory businessman who helped finance his corporation with tainted money. The deal had turned sour. His former friends were gone.

I said I would fly down the next day. He had no transportation. “I’ll rent a car,” I said. As he gave me directions, I could sense his relief. But my own apprehension was growing. What was I getting into?

The next morning, I followed his directions into a newer residential neighborhood. As I turned the corner, Wesley stood at the curb, gaunt and thin, hands in his pockets. I parked and got out of the car. He smiled ever so slightly, then dropped his head. For a long moment, we both were silent. Then he looked up.

“Thanks for coming, Dad,” he said softly.

I put my hand on his shoulder. We hugged one another in the middle of the street. Then we went into the house where he’d been living.

As we went to lunch together, I wondered how long it had been since he had eaten. His complexion was pasty white. The look in his eyes made me want to take him in my arms and hold him as I had done when he was little.

We agreed he would come home for a while until he could sort things out. Though our relationship had hit bottom, neither of us had an alternative. But as I saw Wesley sitting there so frail and weary, the very hopelessness of his situation gave me hope.

As we ate, we established two immediate tasks. First, our relationship had to be based on truth. No more untruths or half-truths between us. No more telling what we wanted the other to hear instead of what really was. Second, he agreed to write down a list of all the loose ends in his life that he needed to deal with.

We settled in at a motel for the evening. I went to bed exhausted; he went to work on his list. The next morning, he showed me a formidable list. He had been up most of the night. How did he get so messed up? I thought. How can he ever work his way through all of this?

The week after we arrived home, Wesley went to work for a trucking company. He worked long hours, many days on double shift. It was the kind of schedule he seemed to need as an inner purging took place. He didn’t go to church often. That seemed beyond his ability for coping. We didn’t try to force it. One weekend, he went camping with his truck driver friends and had too much to drink. But instead of hiding it, he wanted to talk about it.

“Dad, I’ve got to stop,” he said the next day. “I can’t handle that anymore.”

I agreed.

“I’m joining the Army, Dad.”

I looked into his eyes to see if he was serious.

“If you let me stay the rest of the summer, I’ll take the delayed entry program. That will give me a chance to keep working on my list. I’d like to leave October 1.”

“I’d like to talk it over with your mother,” I replied carefully. Is it wise to test our relationship with such an extended time together? I wondered.

But Barbie and I agreed, feeling we were seeing God’s answer to our prayers somehow being worked out. It was hard to accept that our troubles might be ending.

As the summer wore on, Wesley was like a blind man slowing regaining his sight. As we discussed some biblical thought, he would blink once or twice and say, “Really?” Or as we recalled some family incident, he would say, “I guess I’ve never thought about it that way.”

As his appetite returned, he began to regain his strength. His eyes became noticeably clearer. For the first time, we again laughed together.

October 1, Wesley gave each of us a long hug, picked up his shaving kit, and walked out into the pre-dawn darkness. We closed the door behind him, went into the kitchen, and poured coffee. My hand locked with Barbie’s as we sat in the stillness.

And we smiled. We thought he might make it. We decided we might make it, too.

Epilogue: It doesn’t take long in the ministry to learn there are few private places to store your pain. Where can you hide the disappointment of a church gone sour, or the frustration of pouring your life into a congregation that doesn’t respond?

But when your family itself is endangered, all else fades into the background. Your church, your ministry-they were important yesterday, but today they are meaningless. With time, the pain has subsided. Entire days now go by when we don’t even notice it.

Lenea and David struggled with their loss for many months, but recently they celebrated their seventh anniversary.

Wesley is serving in an Army unit near Savannah. He is strong and in good health, returning to college studies, and dreaming once more of the future.

Recently, Wesley and I sat in the family room together, our conversation flowing freely and easily. No anger, no raised voices. Just two men talking: a pastor and a soldier, a father and a son.

More than two years have passed since our seven lean years. Our life and ministry go on. Many of the new people in our congregation have no idea what we’ve been through. A friend who recently visited the church told me, “There is such a healthy sense of humor here, and it’s an obvious reflection of your own.” I thanked him, but inwardly I marveled how God could produce laughter-that great pain reliever-even in the midst of personal confusion and tragedy.

A few Sundays ago, a new couple about my age came forward for prayer. Their eyes brimmed with tears. “Pastor,” they finally got out, “we have a son who is 26 years old and a drug addict. We’ve gone ’round and ’round on this until we’ve almost lost all relationship with one another,” the man said quietly. “His name is Wesley. This week he came home. And now we don’t know what to do.”

I paused for a moment, then took their hands in mine. “I, too, have a son named Wesley,” I said. “And I think I understand how you must feel.”

Milton Lee is a pen name for a pastor in the western United States.

Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Jerry Chip MacGregor is senior pastor at Southwood Park Church (Evangelical Free) in Portland, Oregon. A Ph.D. in organizational development, he consults with pastors and executives seeking clarity in their understanding of their organizations. LEADERSHIP asked him to identify the most helpful books on purpose and direction.

Increasing Your Boardroom Confidence by Bobb Biehl and Ted Engstrom, Questar, 1988

The best place to begin, this book offers a thorough, step-by-step approach to church leaders in need of a master plan. The appendixes (including “30 Questions to Ask Yourself before Making Major Decisions,” “A Crisis Checklist,” and “The Recruitment Process”) add greatly to the worth of the book. I’m currently using this book as a training tool with my church board, and it’s been well received.

Leading and Managing Your Church by Carl F. George and Robert E. Logan, Revell, 1988

Henry Ford once said he had only to look at the church’s survival as proof of God’s existence. Hardly a compliment for church leaders! In an attempt to reverse Ford’s diagnosis, the authors have come up with a masterful prescription for leadership. Writing with humor and insight, they share sound principles supported with Scripture. This book contains their insightful “Berry Bucket” theory of church leadership, which alone is worth the price of the book.

The Problem of Wineskins by Howard A. Snyder, Intervarsity, 1975

Snyder helps us gain much-needed perspective on the direction for our churches in a technological age, and he does it with an enjoyable style. He causes us to reexamine the old wineskin of the church, into which new wine is being poured in our day.

The Change Agent by Lyle E. Schaller, Abingdon, 1972

This is a book to help you through the inevitable tough times. Schaller takes a straight-ahead look at change: its difficulties, its processes, its most likely means.

Schaller is no Pollyanna when it comes to change; he knows how challenging it is. Yet he maps strategies to make us effective agents of change. He helps us face the challenge of innovation in a traditional setting.

Getting the Church on Target by Lloyd Perry, Moody, 1977

Revitalizing the Twentieth Century Church by Norman Shawchuck and Lloyd M. Perry, Moody, 1986

The former book started a trend by relating popular management principles to the church. It covers such topics as leadership, organizational structure, conflict, finances, and time management.

The latter book expands on such principles and is strong on implementation. A wonderful essay on church administration and its relationship to church renewal graces this second book. I find both books highly practical.

Strategy for Leadership by Edward R. Dayton and Ted W. Engstrom, Revell, 1979

This book is the pure extract of two effective leaders’ accumulated experience both in business and in Christian organizations. Dayton and Engstrom helped me work through the foundational questions: Why are we here? What should we be doing? How do we get started?

Sharpening the Focus of the Church by Gene A. Getz, Moody, 1974

This is one of the foundational books of Christian organizational development. Getz examines Scripture inductively for insights into goal setting and evaluation. He helps pastors and church leaders see the church through three lenses: New Testament principles, church history, and contemporary needs.

I find the book useful for reviewing a congregation’s assumptions and goals. Getz is a theoretician who has put his concepts into practice.

Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

You’ve probably heard of Management-By-Walking-Around. When I was an administrator at Fuller Theological Seminary, we came up with a new term-“Water Cooler Management.”

The two programs for which I was responsible were merged into one office operation. An excellent team was forged, but one problem remained: the water cooler. Half the team had had their own office water cooler prior to moving into our office.

Early in the transition, members of the transplanted office group approached me requesting a refrigerated water cooler. “We’re a little short of space in this office,” I replied, “and besides, there’s one just across the hall.” However, wanting to be a good participative manager, I delegated this decision to the combined staff team: “You do the research and make the decision.”

A week later they came to me with a recommendation to buy a certain model and handed me the papers to sign to implement their decision. Again I expressed my reservations about the project, but I signed the papers.

Several days later, I walked into the office and saw this water cooler boldly bubbling in the corner. I didn’t like it. From my perspective it turned a professional reception area into a staff lounge. So I told the staff how I felt-reiterating that we really didn’t need the water cooler and that it failed to fit the “professional ambiance” of the office. Basically I was saying they’d made the wrong decision.

A woman who had worked with me for several years-one who hadn’t even supported the water cooler-took me aside.

“Walt,” she said, “you’re acting out of character from what you believe and teach. Did you really delegate the decision?” In a loving way, she asked if I were playing some parenting game, expecting the children to make my decision. When they didn’t, it looked as if I were pouting.

She was right! Without saying so, I had delegated the decision as long as it was done my way. That was bad management, not delegation. When I delegated the water cooler decision, I had transferred to them the authority to determine the outcome. It was their decision. But my behavior now denied I had delegated the authority.

Fortunately, someone cared enough to call me to abide by my own stated management values. I apologized to the staff and acknowledged that I was out of line. It was their decision, and I would support it.

Ever after that, when someone would delegate incompletely, we would refer to it as “Water Cooler Management.” And in the reception area of the Doctor of Ministry office, there remains a monument to complete delegation.

-Walter C. Wright, Jr.

Regent College

Vancouver, B.C.

Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Just when we think we’ve gotten a handle on the regulations, they’re reworked. At this time of year when taxes inevitably enter our thoughts, here are six considerations to keep in mind.

Business expense deductions

A recent Tax Court ruling (Dalan v. Commissioner, T.C. Memo. 1988-106) may limit how much of business and professional expenses clergy can deduct. In essence, it says you cannot deduct the percentage of business and professional expenses attributable to the housing allowance portion of your income. The IRS in recent years had instructed its agents not to raise the issue enforced in an earlier Tax Court ruling, Deason v. Commissioner, 41 T.C. 465 (1964), but Dalan appears to be reversing the position. Let’s look at the history.

Section 265 of the Internal Revenue Code states basically that when a percentage of your income isn’t taxable (such as a housing allowance), an equal percentage of your deductions aren’t allowable. Therefore, if a pastor’s $30,000 pay package is composed of $20,000 in salary and $10,000 in housing allowance, the pastor could deduct only two-thirds of his expenses, the part allocable to his salary.

This application of Section 265 was upheld in Deason in 1964, which kept Pastor Deason from deducting the full amount of his unreimbursed automobile expenses since part of his income-his housing allowance-was tax-exempt. But this ruling was disregarded by the IRS. For several years, pastors were allowed to deduct their full expenses from their taxable income.

Then came Dalan in 1988, reversing the leniency and causing pastors to reduce their deductible expenses. If the Dalan case indeed reflects a change in the IRS’s longstanding position, then pastors seeking deductions for unreimbursed business and professional expenses need to figure a ratio of salary to total compensation and then deduct only that portion of expenses.

For example, if S equals salary (less housing allowance), H equals housing allowance, and E equals expenses you want to deduct, then the formula for allowable deductions is E x S ö (S + H). To use the example above, if the pastor’s expenses are $500, the formula would be: $500 x $20,000 ö ($20,000 + $10,000) = $333.33, what he can deduct as expenses.

Two notes: First, pastors living in a parsonage likewise may be affected if the IRS begins to consider the fair rental value of the parsonage part of the pastor’s tax-exempt income, as is housing allowance for home-owning pastors. This is yet to be seen.

Second, the adverse impact of Dalan can be eliminated if clergy work under a church policy in which they are reimbursed fully on a periodic basis for expenses for which they adequately account with receipts or other documentary evidence. Those pastors currently receiving an expense allowance probably will find tax advantages in converting to a reimbursem*nt system.

Church-owned vehicles

Many churches are acquiring an automobile for their pastors’ church-related travel. Here’s one reason why. If a church owns or leases a car and the board adopts a resolution restricting use of the car to church-related activities, the pastor need report no income or deductions related to it. And better yet, there are no accountings, reimbursem*nts, allowances, or record-keeping requirements, a relief for most pastors.

The following conditions must be satisfied, however: (1) The vehicle is owned or leased by the church and is provided for use in connection with church business; (2) when the vehicle is not being used for church business, it is kept on the church’s premises (unless it is temporarily located elsewhere, such as a repair shop); (3) no employee using the vehicle lives on the church’s premises; (4) under a written policy statement adopted by the church board, no employee of the church can use the vehicle for personal purposes, except for “de minimis” (minimal) personal use (such as a stop for lunch between two business trips); (5) the church reasonably believes no church employee uses the vehicle for personal purposes; and (6) the church can prove to the IRS that the preceding five conditions have been met (Reg. 1.274-6T(a)(2)).

Commuting is always considered to be personal use of a car. Thus this simplified setup wouldn’t be available if a church allowed its minister to commute to work in a church-owned vehicle. A pastor always has the option of keeping a log of personal-use miles and reimbursing the church at the standard 24 cents per-mile rate. The record keeping may well be worth the convenience of using the car for the commute to church.

Loans to clergy

Churches occasionally make loans to clergy to enable them to purchase housing or make another major purchase. Typically, the church charges no interest or a rate far below the prevailing market rate. These loans can create problems for a number of reasons.

First, many state nonprofit corporation laws prohibit loans to officers and directors. Churches considering a loan to a minister (even at a reasonable interest rate) are wise to determine first that such loans are permissible under state law.

Second, no-interest or low-interest loans to clergy may be viewed as “inurement” of the church’s income to a minister. This can potentially jeopardize the church’s tax-exempt status.

Third, for loans of $10,000 or more (or for lesser loans in which an intent to avoid taxes exists), a church must figure the benefit to a minister of receiving the loan and add this amount to the minister’s reportable income-a complex calculation I won’t begin to touch here.

The point is: Even if loans to clergy are allowed under a state’s nonprofit corporation law, no-interest and low-interest loans of $10,000 or more will result in income to a minister that must be valued and reported. Failure to do so could result in prohibited inurement of the church’s income to a private individual, a potentially disastrous prospect.

Special-occasion gifts

Clergy often receive gifts for special occasions. Are these considered compensation? The general rule for federal tax purposes is this: If the gifts are in any way processed through the church’s books or paid out of church funds, then the distribution to the minister should be reported as taxable compensation and included on his or her W-2 or 1099 and Form 1040. Members who contribute to special-occasion offerings processed through the church’s books can deduct their contributions as a charitable contribution if they itemize deductions.

Of course, members are free to make personal gifts to clergy, such as a card at Christmas accompanied by a check or cash. Such payments may be tax-free gifts to the minister, although they are not deductible by the donor.

Bargain sales

Some churches “sell” a parsonage to a retiring minister at a price well below the property’s fair market value. Other churches may sell a car or other church-owned vehicle to their pastor at a below market price. The important consideration with such bargain sales is this: The “bargain” element (the difference between the sales price charged by the church and the property’s market value) must be reported as income to the minister.

Churches should consider thoroughly the tax consequences of such sales before approving them. In some cases, pastors have had to sell the property to pay the taxes.

Works made for hire

Ministers who are authors or composers are often shocked to learn that their employing church may be the copyright owner of works they create. Section 201 of the Copyright Act specifies that “the employer . . . is considered the author” of a “work made for hire” and “owns all of the rights comprised in the copyright” unless the employer and employee “have expressly agreed otherwise in a written instrument signed by them.” The Act defines a work made for hire as “a work prepared by an employee within the scope of his or her employment.”

To illustrate, if a minister of music composes a hymn at church during regular working hours and using church equipment or secretarial help, the work almost certainly will be considered a work made for hire. The church, and not the minister, is the copyright owner. This means the minister has no legal right in the work and no authority to enter into a contract with a publishing company.

The same conclusion would apply to clergy who write articles or books. Clergy who produce articles, books, or musical works as part of their ministry may want to consider entering into a written agreement with their church regarding copyright ownership of such works. Unless the minister and church specifically agree otherwise in a signed writing, the copyright in such works probably will vest in the church

-Richard R. Hammar

Attorney-at-law and CPA

Springfield, Missouri

Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

How can ministry families respond when gripped by crisis? Based on Barb’s and my experience, here are a few suggestions:

1. Accept God’s forgiveness given to parents and children who painfully face their mistakes. Such forgiveness does not erase the consequences of past errors, but it does guarantee a new start through our Lord’s loving grace. Life is not over.

2. Discover God’s divine network. As we prayerfully place family members in his hands, the Holy Spirit has many unnamed heroes upon whom he can draw to aid our loved ones. Ask him to do just that. And while awaiting his response, we can be part of that network ourselves in answer to someone else’s prayers.

3. Talk openly about your feelings with your spouse. Share concerns. This is a time for closeness, not distance.

4. Find a support system: a trusted confidant, a mature minister friend, a competent Christian psychologist. Seek wise counsel, full of objectivity and perspective.

5. Maintain hope. Reading the Scriptures and spending time with God are especially important. My wife read the Psalms at least ten times as she sought comfort and hope during our dark days.

6. Lower expectations of your personal creativity, objectivity, and productivity. Do keep on going, but realize a long crisis may render you incapable of giving your top performance. Give yourself permission to adjust your pace.

7. Prepare yourself for the time you’ll be needed again. When your child faces divorce, trouble with the law, or other kinds of personal failure, become a resource for change and healing. Be silent in judgments. Offer advice only when asked. Affirm successes. And love, love, love.

-Milton Lee

Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.