Christian Jones attends church regularly, contributes heavily to the budget, and is a member of the official board. He is also an obstructionist. When decisions need to be made, Mr. Jones never ceases to advise caution. To him, the status quo is a sacred trust. At a recent board meeting he responded as though on cue.
The discussion concerned launching a neighborhood outreach program that had proven successful in several sister churches. The sincerity and enthusiasm of the evangelism committee began to slowly penetrate the fog that often envelops long evenings around the conference table. To top off an exceptionally good presentation, the committee chairman, Jack Johnson, reported that a team of lay volunteers from a sister church would be willing to conduct an evangelism workshop for only the cost of travel expenses.
That was the cue! After the customary clearing of his throat, Mr. Jones began his familiar refrain: “Now don’t get me wrong . . . it’s not that I personally object, but I’m concerned about how many of our members will view this kind of thing.”
“I don’t understand,” Jack replied. “We’ve talked about a program like this for months, and now we have the opportunity to learn from people who’ve proven they know what they are doing.”
“Yes, but these people don’t know our congregation or our neighborhoods. How do we know that we aren’t setting ourselves up for some kind of ‘buttonhole blitz’ that will anger our neighbors and make us look like a bunch of religious fanatics? Besides, after hearing the treasurer’s report this evening, I don’t see how we can afford to fly in a bunch of people to tell us something we can develop for ourselves. Let’s just read the literature and do it our own way.”
Jack tried to maintain a pleasant expression, but unmistakable hurt darkened his eyes. Even though one of the board members lamely offered to personally pick up the expenses, the damage had been done. The motion to proceed was tabled, and assigned to a slow but sure death in the study committee.
Who can withstand Christian Jones . . . twenty-year board member Mr. Jones . . . the same Jones who has seen six pastors come and go (four since he joined the board)?
Pastor Theophilus Bauer and the other board members have concluded that it is best to go easy on Brother Jones. Confrontation must be avoided at all cost, since it would only lead to conflict, with its potential for unpleasant consequences. On the rare occasion that Mr. Jones is absent from board meetings, jokes about getting home before midnight do the rounds. After most meetings, however, board members return home mumbling and grumbling about wasting their time.
To avoid dealing with Brother Jones’s behavior takes considerable time and energy. “It’s the Christian thing to do,” Pastor Bauer tells himself and others. No doubt he also believes that he is doing what love demands. But is it, really? He may be confusing love with sentimentality. Avoidance of conflict is often based on false notions about the Christian faith and life.
Take anger, for example. Christians, according to the Bible, are kind and patient people. So far, so good. Ergo Christians never show anger. Not so! At least, that’s not what the Bible teaches. “Be angry, but sin not,” we read in Psalm 4. Applied to-the Jones problem, I would interpret that principle to mean: Do not let your anger lead you to a destructive form of confrontation; rather, let your confrontation be so tempered by love that it opens up opportunities for reconciliation, personal growth, and more cooperative relationships.
Feelings that are repressed and conflicts that are avoided do not fade away. Usually they reassert themselves with a vengeance, perhaps via the grapevine or in other forms of destructive behavior. Frequently they become the underground forces that threaten the very life of a community.
Confrontation, on the other hand, can be creative. It is rarely painless, but the hurts can become part of a healing process and the aches can turn out to be growing pains. It all depends on how it is handled.
During the past two decades the volume of literature on conflict management has increased immensely. The Journal of Conflict Resolution is devoted solely to research on that subject. Behavioral scientists have focused much of their attention on human conflict. Workshops have been designed to help people deal with conflict. This interest in the topic is not surprising-just look at the “confrontation politics” in society and the polarization in many churches.
New insights and new skills are needed. The behavioral sciences have much to teach us and, as Christians, we should not ignore their findings, I have benefited from participation in “conflict labs. ” But, as Christian leaders, we should draw first of all on the biblical insights concerning confrontation, conflict, and reconciliation. These themes lie at the center of the biblical message.
Jesus often used a confrontational style of ministry, as did the prophets before him. Some gospel passages sound downright abrasive. “You hypocrites!” “You whitewashed tombstones!” Confrontation frequently led to conflict; in the end it led Jesus to the cross. Yet, for the Christian faith, the cross is more than the symbol of sin and estrangement; it also represents divine grace and reconciliation. Our confrontations, too, can become experiences of death and resurrection.
The handbooks on conflict management tell us that tension and controversy must be accepted as normal experiences of life; they come with being human; unavoidable where diverse views are expressed and challenged in open discussion, where people seek to cope with change and to shape their future. As a matter of fact, a close relationship exists between conflict and creativity. Without it life would become sterile and suffocating.
Jesus said that conflict is inevitable, particularly in situations where people must take a stand and affirm a commitment of ultimate significance. This happens when he confronts us with his Lordship and we hear his call to discipleship. Our response will have far-reaching consequences in our relationships with others, especially the people close to us. Matthew 10 leaves little doubt on the matter: “I have not come to bring peace . . .; I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother. . .; he who loves father and mother more than me is not worthy of me. … “
Is that the good news? That he did not come to bring peace? Was not God in Christ reconciling the world to himself? Yes, and confrontation, rather than being an occasional departure from his true mission, is an integral part of that ministry of reconciliation.
We so easily forget that love and conflict are not necessarily opposed to each other. As a matter of fact, lack of conflict can be a sign of indifference, evidence that people don’t care about each other or about the church’s faith and ministry.
When Jesus told the rich young ruler to sell his possessions, give his money to the poor, and follow him, he wanted that young man to face himself. He challenged him in order to encourage self-confrontation. Why? Because without it there will be no honest confession, and without such a confession there will be no experience of forgiveness and inner freedom. Confrontation, as part of Jesus’ ministry of reconciliation, can be seen as a form of “reality therapy.”
Or, take the story of Nicodemus, a religious leader of learning and sophistication, who came in the safety of night to talk with Jesus. One can imagine the annoyance Nicodemus felt when Jesus turned the conversation away from purely intellectual pursuits and confronted him with his need for rebirth. Such an embarrassing topic for conversation!
In these stories the reader senses the inner turmoil and tension that were aroused by Jesus’ approach. Whatever happened, one wonders, to the young aristocrat after his sad, “No, thank you,” or to the old scholar after he slipped back into the darkness of night? Did the encounter with Jesus ultimately make a difference in their lives? We are not told.
We do know what happened to a woman whom Jesus met in Samaria. That story, found in John 4, ends on a positive, even jubilant note. It’s a dramatic account of Jesus’ confrontational ministry. First, there is the woman’s utter surprise that Jesus would have any dealings with her. Not only was it contrary to custom for a man to approach a woman in public, but Jews also commonly avoided contact with Samaritans. But Jesus was different, unconventional. How different he was, the woman discovered as the encounter developed. Her life was laid bare, even to the sordid details of her love affairs. It must have been painful for her to be exposed like that-five marriages, now living with a man who is not her husband, a reputation that had filled her life with experiences of rejection. But this confronter! There was something about him that made the woman wonder whether he could be the Christ. Through a painful self-confrontation this person found healing and went on her way rejoicing, ready to meet her neighbors, to face their skepticism, and to share her new-found faith.
Recent literature has said much about “game playing” in conflict situations. It’s a response motivated by our desire to avoid the pain of selfconfrontation. Although we long to achieve personal fulfillment, we fear the price we may have to pay in order to find it. Facing what one is really like-the Bible calls that confession-can make us profoundly uncomfortable and is like dying a thousand deaths. Can we really afford to become vulnerable, especially in the presence of people who know us?
The Bible contains many insights into the nature of game-playing. The woman at the well frantically tried to change the subject the moment Jesus touched on her personal life by asking, “On which mountain ought we to worship?” She was playing the “liturgical question” version of an old game called, “Let’s argue religion.” It’s usually an attempt to replace an uncomfortable confrontation with an abstract discussion. What a lovely topic to argue about, particularly if it appears to offer a way out of the painful experience of coming to terms with God and one’s own condition!
When Jesus brought the rich young ruler face to face with his real priorities, the young man followed a similar route. “Who is my neighbor?” he asked. In other words, let’s debate the idea of “neighbor.” We ought to formulate a theory on the subject, perhaps appoint a committee to undertake a theological study of the question. In the meantime, we can avoid meeting our neighbors and becoming sensitive to their needs.
Nicodemus was jarred out of his intellectual self-assurance by Jesus’ remark about the importance of personal rebirth. In his embarrassment and discomfort Nicodemus sarcastically remarked, “How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?” In short, let’s analyze language and play a bit with logic! It is so much safer than dealing with life.
Pastor Bauer, Brother Jones, and the other members of the board are playing similar games. They avoid conflict in order to keep their illusion of peace and harmony. While sparing each other the pain of confrontation, they miss opportunities to grow personally, and to develop a more effective ministry of the church. If Brother Jones were ever confronted with his obstructionist behavior, his initial response would probably not be much different from the tactics of the people in the biblical accounts. But miracles do happen. By God’s grace people are radically changed. By losing their lives in confession, they can find new life in an experience of forgiveness. Without this conviction our ministry would be robbed of its vision.
I am not, of course, advocating that church leaders simply vent their hostilities. That would be the opposite of creative confrontation. Nor should ministers use the sermon and the privilege of the pulpit to strike out at their people while avoiding direct confrontation and the opportunity for open discussion. That is one of the greatest temptations preachers face and one of the most dangerous games they can play. It arouses deep resentment, and rightly so, because it is unfair, unloving, and manipulative. Jesus looked at that young go-getter ruler and loved him. The moment we look at our parishioners with even the slightest measure of contempt, the chances for a creative ministry of reconciliation are diminished.
As ministers we send out many signals about ourselves as well as our beliefs about human relationships. Some of those signals are broadcast by how we handle confrontation, particularly by how we react when people confront us. Do we try to pull spiritual rank with indignant claims that we are accountable to the Holy Spirit alone? Do we piously sermonize, hoping to make people feel guilty? Do we play the game of power politics by isolating those who challenge or disagree, not with our authority as ministers of the Word, but with our authoritarianism?
Creative confrontation cannot occur in that environment. It can only happen in an environment of openness with a high level of mutual acceptance. It can play a constructive role only in an atmosphere where people love each other enough to truly listen to each other. It requires a tolerance for diversity of views without the sacrifice of deeply held convictions on issues of faith and values.
Wise and compassionate leadership can cultivate an environment conducive to creative confrontation. Children and adults can be helped to share their feelings and the questions that burden their souls. A church education program needs to move beyond indoctrination to the sharing of faith in an atmosphere of trust. The small group movement during the past decades has sought to stimulate this kind of congregational life.
A deep-seated fear of rejection prevents many people from revealing their true selves. A confession may be good for the soul, but where can one afford to utter it? When Jesus confronted people, he did it in the context of love, a liberating love that left no doubt that his criticism was blended with compassion and grace. Growth is a painful process at any age; it needs the sustaining power of grace. A church where a person cannot risk exposure will be weak in its ministry of reconciliation.
It will also be weak, not when its members have an occasional fight, but rather when they tend to evade confrontation on the important issues and then vent their frustrations in petty bickerings. This happens in many churches. Mrs. A. is mad at everybody because she has not been put in charge of the annual bazaar; Mr. B. is outraged because the building committee has picked the wrong color paint for the fellowship hall; and for more than a year Miss C., the choir director, has refused to speak to the board members who voted to permit occasional guitar music during the worship services. Such uncreative conflicts sap a church of its vitality and paralyze its ministry.
If we want creative confrontation, we have to learn to choose issues that are worth fighting about. Paul, for instance, knew that much when he took on Peter (as described in Galatians 2). The issue was Christian freedom, something that was worth a confrontation.
Paul and Peter, two men of such different temperament, may have had other points of friction and disagreement between them. That’s part of life, and mature people learn to live with it. But, there come moments when one must take a stand and be willing to confront and to risk conflict.
Poor Peter! He had his problems, and one can certainly sympathize with him. His upbringing had not prepared him for relationships with Gentiles. According to his background, segregation between Jews and Gentiles was the accepted way of life. No wonder he was anxious about the new ways and lost his nerve in a tense situation.
But there were bigger issues at stake, namelv freedom in Christ and the credibility of the Church’s proclamation. Those could not be compromised or brushed aside with a reference to “poor Peter.” Peter needed the confrontation with Paul to help him face what he was doing and break out of the cultural captivity that jeopardized his witness and scandalized the Church.
Pastor Bauer could sympathize with Brother Jones! After all, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” A noble sentiment and true enough! But we do not grow by having others humor us and find excuses for our hang-ups. Nor is covert hostility healthier for the church than honest confrontation.
In Brother Jones’s case, the motion to table the discussion on evangelism, the tone of voice in which it was offered, the manner in which it was seconded and voted on-all sent out clear signals of disappointment and anger to him. Even the closing prayer, though quite “spiritual” in language, communicated a hidden message of resentment and a desire to rebuke: “Lord, help us to come to a place of unity. And if anyone of us this evening has failed to see your will to advance your kingdom, help us to find renewal of heart through your Spirit.”
For three days, Pastor Bauer straggled with “the Jones situation” and with the question of his own role as pastor. Finally, in fear and trembling, but also with a newly gained sense of assurance about what needed to be done, he went to see Christian Jones. “I feel that I have to tell you how angry I was after last Monday’s board meeting,” he blurted out after an awkward exchange of greetings. “I don’t feel right about it and thought it might help if you and I could talk.” And talk they did.
Mr. Jones’s initial response was defiant. “Are you telling me that only ‘yes-sayers’ can be board members in good standing? Or don’t you think that I have the well-being of our church at heart?”
“I know you do, and your independence of mind is a quality that I want in our meetings. But, you sometimes come across as . . . well, as if you need to disagree for disagreement’s sake.”
“What do you mean?”
They discussed that question for an hour and a half. Pastor Theophilus Bauer drove home, feeling a bit shaky about the experience, but also experiencing a sense of relief and hope. “There are some things I’d like to talk about with you when we have a chance,” Jones had said as they shook hands at the door. “Sure,” he had answered. In that one word he had sought to express a word of encouragement to a member who was hurting, as well as his conviction that, by God’s grace, a ministry of healing had been started.
The God of the Bible is the great confronter. He reveals himself as the one who calls us to repentance as a precondition for personal rebirth and fulfillment. Therefore, the Church’s ministry of reconciliation can never be without confrontation. We don’t have to look for it; it simply comes with faithful service. 4
That’s why leadership requires courage and | passion, two essential ingredients in creative con-l comfrontation. Courage without compassion easily 4 leads to a self-righteous authoritarianism. Compassion without courage can lead to a sweet sentimentality that goes by the name of love, but finds its actual source in a lack of nerve. The blending of the two is not so much a matter of technique or of getting one’s act together. Rather, it is being prepared to let-oneself be confronted by the divine Word of judgment and grace . . . it is a matter of growing together to greater maturity in Christ.
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