At the beginning of my first year in seminary, the school computer matched me with another single student as my roommate. We soon discovered a major problem: we did not trust one another.
Oh, this wasn’t verbalized, but our differences surfaced early. I was a strong Calvinist. He repeatedly blasted my logic with intense Arminianism. I was the emotional mystic. He epitomized the down-to-earth intellectual. In addition, he offered me much unsolicited advice about girls, churches, and school classes because he was a second-year student and knew the ropes.
I mentally labeled it all “Bunk,” and proceeded to do the reverse of any of his advice. This did not advance our relationship. Tension developed, and our words became concise, crisp, and cold. There was only one biblical way out for us: develop trust or bust.
Clarence Francis said, “You can buy a man’s time, his physical presence, a measured number of his skilled muscular motions; but you cannot buy his enthusiasm, initiative, and loyalty. These you must earn.” I realized I would have to earn the trust of my roommate to survive with him in the room. Similarly, relationships in the church demand earned trust, but the problem is tougher because churches are mostly volunteers. Although my roommate and I were thrown together to sink or sin or win, people in a church can just walk out. How does a pastor or other church leader earn and develop the trust so essential to spiritual success?
I’m convinced it’s possible to develop trust with those who call themselves born-again Christians. I admit I’ve failed in many relationships. But through these failures and my study of Scripture, I’ve found some principles that help me build an ongoing trust with a congregation.
Make your ministry goals clear, and include the church in the process of making them. The average churchgoer doesn’t know where a new pastor is going and isn’t quite sure he wants to go along for the ride.
For instance, in my first ministry as a youth pastor, I wanted to initiate a discipleship program with the youth. Several leaders resisted the idea altogether. One asked me about the young people who would not be involved in the discipleship program. How was I going to minister to them? My first reaction was, “I just want a few committed Christians, not a lot of frivolous teens hopping in and out of church.” His immediate response was that I was arrogant. Feeling rebuffed, I decided we had to talk about it, and we worked out a youth program with activities for both groups. Though this particular leader continued to spar with my ideas, he proved helpful in offering constructive criticism
I’ve also tried to maneuver a congregation into a new idea, but that fails because people listen to the gossip that always accompanies change and become resistant. Delineating clear goals and methods kills fear as well as gossip. I learned to bounce my goals off people before I put them into operation. The average human responds positively to order and organization; he rejects chaos and deception. Leslie Cornell sharpened this thought when he said, “Leadership is as much a matter of destination as it is of strength and magnetism.”
Jesus knew this well. He revealed his goal for his disciples when he said, “Follow me and I will make you fishers of men.” When he tells us his goal is to conform us to his image, bring us safely to heaven, and provide us with an eternal, spiritual body, our trust and loyalty is intensified more than if he had said, “Just trust me.”
I recall two professors in college. One was not clear in his goals for the class. His sessions were chaotic, boring, and poorly attended because he operated on the basis of “open teaching,” a process that inevitably leaves minds vacant. I learned nothing and felt cheated. The other teacher gave us a syllabus the first day, stuck to it (with considerable flexibility), and communicated his purpose of leading us to a worthy level of knowledge and maturity. We all feel refreshed by visionary, goal-oriented ministry, but cheated by haphazard, trouble-ridden ministry. We want to follow someone who has an inner compass pointing toward a goal.
Be personal in public and private communication. This does not mean simply telling personal anecdotes and stories. It calls for sincerity and enthusiasm in contacts with people. It demands illustration and application, either through personal experience or analogy, of God’s Word working in lives. It requires humor and pathos. We must live and feel what we are talking about.
A seminary professor clarified this for me when he exhorted his students, “We want to make you tree students, not pipe students.” A pipe student transports God’s Word without being affected by it. He delivers the goods like a tape recording. A tree student drinks up God’s Word and produces fruit in the process. This professor claimed that “You are most attractive and useful to God when his truth is poured through your personality.”
The most common criticism we have about the average sermon is that it is too complex, too intellectual, and too difficult to understand. Some have counseled me never to use personal anecdotes in the pulpit. Certainly it can be overdone. But what is the Bible if not a story of the works of God and men working together to change the world? Jesus chose to use stories liberally in his ministry. For those who preach and teach, the benefits of this type of communication are numerous: it shows you’re human and don’t take yourself too seriously; it helps people see how God’s Word works in lives; and it shows that you regard God not only as Master and Lord, but as friend and father.
Strive for exegetical honesty in your preaching. I believe the greatest offense we make in this area is the unique twentieth-century bent for formulas. Authors have flooded the market with multitudes of books on how to be happy, to win over depression, worry, obesity, and ungodly habits, to be a success and dress for success. Some of these problem-solving formulas, supposedly drawn from Scripture, are simplistic and promise more than can be delivered.
I have seen many examples of formulism, oversimplification, and inaccuracy, but one of the worst concerned a friend who attended the funeral of a small child killed in a tragic accident. The minister preached from Romans 8:28. He tried to comfort the bereaved parents by explaining that God in his love had allowed this tragedy in order to bring about a higher good. For me, this explanation perverts the meaning of the verse. To be sure, God can work an evil situation for good; but my friend didn’t hear it that way and came away extremely upset. She was tempted to write off that minister and the Christianity he represented as having a distorted view of God’s love.
Many of us tend to preach a Christ who has spoken clearly and finally on all problems. The difficulty is that in reality he has not, and we can be tempted to stretch ideas to fit our illustrations and applications. I believe the cause for this is exegetical laziness. Certainly we must give biblical solutions to human problems. But above all, we must be honest in our interpretations, not forcing the Scriptures into our theological grid and speaking where God has not spoken. We must admit that Scripture isn’t clear in all points.
Unfortunately, I had to learn this the hard way. Like many Calvinists, I tend to be strong on God’s sovereignty and weak on man’s responsibility. For a long time I didn’t get the two in biblical focus, and repeatedly engaged in heated arguments that often forced people to tiptoe around me as if I were a ticking bomb. As I come to grips with this, my relationships are better with friends who don’t see “aye to aye” with me on election and the rest.
Listen to people to really know them. I recently preached at a church where many of the people seemed to have an enthusiasm about their pastor I don’t often see in other churches. I asked why. One answer came up repeatedly: “He listens to you as though you were the most important person in the world. His eyes never stray. He remembers things you’ve told him that you’ve forgotten. He lets you know he has prayed specifically for you. And he always knows your name, even when you haven’t been around for awhile.” It was easy to see why this pastor was loved; because he listened, he conveyed respect and acceptance, two essential builders of trust.
Listening is especially potent in the sharing of prayer requests. I’ve always been asked by people in the congregation to pray about some concern, need, or problem. Too often I would nod my head and promise to pray-only to forget the whole matter. Then I tried writing down the requests on cards and filing them in my devotional prayer file. Even this proved hazardous; I lost the cards. Finally I began to take the first free moment after receiving a prayer request to wing aloft a heavenly telegram. I discovered this effort often implanted the request in my mind, and I would remember it the next time I saw that person. When I would mention it, the response often was, “You remember that? Yes, God did answer.” Those who listen with eyes, face, and heart, as well as mind, never lack people who will beat a path to their ears.
Receive criticism with dignity. Sometimes my naivete is boundless, but in this case it superabounded. I really thought I would be such a superb pastor that no one would be able to fire at me for lack of available ammunition. Then I was machine-runned. To learn to deal with criticism, I had to understand why people criticize.
Some give harsh criticism just to see how we’ll react. They test us to see if we’ll admit our mistakes and weaknesses. If we argue, make excuses, or try to eradicate the criticism with bluff and bluster, people will turn off, tune out, and distrust everything else we do. In their minds we get a bluebook with an E on it for Egotistical Others criticize because they have a penchant for faultfinding. They feel God put them here to keep the pastor in line. They begin their statements with, “I only have one problem with that message, Pastor ” And there are those who say, “We’ve always done it this way,” and are unhappy because we’re not following the blazed trail of the former traditions.
Trite as the phrase is, you can’t please everyone. Although I personally don’t like criticism, there’s little of it flung my way that hasn’t yielded some fruit. In one church where I was the youth pastor, I often gave the morning pastoral prayer. One lady informed me that my prayers were “positively awful. God has ears. You don’t have to shout at him.” I didn’t want to create an enemy, so the next Sunday I tried to tone down. After the service she came up to me, all smiles, and said, “You did better.” I walked off muttering, “Better? That’s all?” But I found that my response to her criticism had won me a friend. She stuck up for me on several occasions after that.
There are those who sincerely desire to help us. To these we must listen with a willingness to learn and profit. Ultimately, we must receive criticism with dignity. What does that mean? Roger Rosenblatt wrote in The Washington Post: “I have seen many amazing things in my life, but I never have seen anyone who could take criticism well. All criticism, be it casual or vicious or constructive, is unpalatable. Sure, you can profit from criticism in the long and painful run. But taking it is something else. Taking it means letting it go down like custard-no blinking, no flinching, no wishing you were dead.”
That’s dignity. A Christian minister on any level must learn to receive criticism, weigh it, cast off the dross, and profit from the truth.
Admit public mistakes in public. Admitted and rectified mistakes reveal that we are human, real, honest, and sincere. Most church people are willing to forgive an error. They will not, however, forgive an error that is painted over and set on a back lot.
As one book claims, “Failure is the back door to success.” It’s also a door toward kinship, a major ingredient of trust. I sat in one professor’s classes in seminary thinking about how impossible it was for me ever to be as good a communicator, father, and Christian as he was. He seemed a veritable superman. One day one of the students asked him if he’d ever really messed up. True to his nature, this man shared some boners and flops not even the most ineffective bureaucracy could rival. It turned out to be one of the most motivating classes I ever had. For him to admit those bloopers in class not only uplifted me, but gave me an understanding and love for him as never before.
In a sermon I once made the mistake of saying, “Sometimes I want to kick some people in the butt,” in reference to getting some people committed to Christ. Several people admonished me about this. The next Sunday I apologized from the pulpit for that and some other earthy comments I’d made. At the time, I felt demeaned and stupid, but I knew I had to do it. The next week I received several letters expressing support with such statements as “Today you won our hearts,” and “I felt real love for you as a person when you confessed that.” The mistake that had the potential to ruin me if I sluffed the problem off became the means of building trust.
Develop some close friends and confidants Lecithin the congregation. Although Jesus worked with the twelve, he was especially close to Peter, James, and John. Thus the precedent is set for intimate friendships between a pastor and some members of the congregation.
Some leaders believe that having close friends in the congregation is unwise because it might form factions or make others feel they are playing favorites, and thus lead to distrust. This is possible. The Bible, however, shows other leaders such as Abraham, Moses, and Paul who had close friends in their ministries.
One pastor I know made no close friends in his congregation and never made an attempt to reciprocate their overtures of friendship and social interaction. This ultimately led him into an ivorytower lifestyle of being cut off from his people and not knowing their needs. Although we can’t generalize, this can be typical of pastors who think in this vein.
Nevertheless, in the midst of this closeness with a few, it’s also necessary to be friendly with everyone. Being interested in people will go a long way toward having others consider us a friend. People trust a friendly leader, the kind of leader who knows how to converse, encourage, and build others up in confidence and faith.
One professor at school had a very crowded schedule of teaching and lecturing all over the world. However, he regularly visited the student snackshop to talk with them. Never did I pass him in the hall without his saying hello and smiling. And in a seminary of over a thousand, although I was not in one of his classes, he knew me by name and even told me one day he was praying for me about a problem I’d shared in a student forum. I was astonished and grateful, and felt a deep loyalty to him as a friend and teacher. He’s one person I’d follow anywhere. He built trust largely through simple friendliness to all.
Be willing to sacrifice personal time for others. This is the most difficult principle, but I feel it is the most essential. Being there when someone really needs us is a time when trust can either be forged or fractured.
I remember a woman saying to me when a close friend of hers committed suicide, “I spoke to the pastor about this and asked him to visit me, but he didn’t come. I don’t hold it against him; I know he’s busy. But I don’t feel close to him, and now that I’m recovered from that trying time, I don’t need him.” Pastors and leaders are given a few silver moments of special grace ministry in a person’s lifetime. When we fail to take advantage of that circumstance, the loss is ours.
On another occasion I asked a man why he had remained loyal to a certain pastor despite a church split. He said, “I know he’s not that great a preacher, and the church has its troubles; but when I had no interest in Christianity, that man kept coming. When my father died, he was there with me. When my wife and I had some difficulties, he counseled us. That man stuck with me-and I’ll stick with him.”
The big sacrifices we’re called on to make are rare. Some of the normal sacrifices anyone can make would be the way we answer the phone when someone has a need and we’re in the middle of preparing a sermon; how we respond late at night when someone asks to talk and we have a full day coming up; how we refuse to give up on someone with a terrible problem when everyone else has written him off; or how we’re willing to spend an hour tossing the football with the kids in the neighborhood though we’d rather read a book or go for a walk. Such sacrifices add up, and they mark us out as Christians who not only “talk the talk” but “walk the walk.” Sacrifice is a style of life, a standard held up by Christ in his ministry.
Love is what trust is all about. Loved people become loving and trusting people. When Paul said, “Love never fails,” he meant love that keeps plowing through to the finish. It never gives up.
Copyright © 1981 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
