Leadership Journal

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I handed my wife a photo of "Ground-breaking Sunday." It was a beautiful scene. Senior citizens, children, new families, and our leadership team were celebrating the start of construction on our new ministry center. She graciously smiled and said, "Frame it, and let it be a reminder of your need to be humble."

The picture that was supposed to represent a great moment in the life of our church actually represented some deeply personal lessons on how to lead a congregation through risk, uncertainty, and failure.

Four years earlier, I had cast the vision for this new facility we desperately needed. Our leadership team had determined to pursue a capital campaign that relied completely upon the gifts of our people. No debt. Our church family had given faithfully over a three-year period, and our construction estimates indicated that we finally had enough funding.

The final bids came back a few days after Groundbreaking Sunday. Much to our dismay, they were markedly higher than anyone expected. We would have to reduce the size of the project, renege on our commitment to build the facility debt-free, or ask our people for more money. Panicked, I asked our building chairman, "So, what exactly did we do on Groundbreaking Sunday?"

"I think we need to look at it as a ceremonial groundbreaking," he said.

I groaned.

Immediately, we faced two issues: our leadership team had to determine how we were going to address this problem, and we had to decide what to communicate to our church.

From the beginning, we determined that process was as important as product, especially in our situation. Eventually, we asked our church for an additional $130,000 and an extension of their previous pledge commitments for another three years. They overwhelmingly supported our direction, funded the $130,000 two months ahead of schedule, and over-committed to the remaining need. We were stunned.

God used the crucible of risk as a teachable moment for me, for our leadership team, and for our church family. My hope is that the lessons we learned will guide us through our next season of crisis or at least make us a little more confident the next time we have to say, "We don't know what to do."

I began to view our crisis differently when I chose to embrace humility. This did not come easily. In fact, the critical moment happened during a leadership meeting. Our pastors and deacons were discussing the options and how to inform the church family. I suggested we should at least do something—like removing trees or grading the property— so that our people would be encouraged that we were making progress. I was looking for cover.

One of our pastors expressed his concern about that idea.

"We should be honest with the church," he countered, "not just manage perceptions."

I shot back with a defensive statement that did little more than reveal that he was right. What happened next broke me and forced me to deal with ...