The following story of a congregation doing serious business with its goals and structures is an inspiration to all who wish for reform. While many readers belong to denominations with differing polities from this one, the principles and attitudes expressed here can be applied to a wide range of settings.
Two years after the British voters thanked Winston Churchill for his wartime leadership by kicking him out of office, the old man said in a House of Commons speech, “Democracy is the worst form of government except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.”
Nearly every pastor I know would agree with the sentiment. We have all suffered through power struggles in the church that left us in despair. The problem, we sensed, would not be corrected by a dynamic sermon or an inspiring song. Nor would a new program cure what ailed us. We dared to dream of radical surgery. But wouldn’t another form of government be worse?
The congregation I serve got along rather peacefully from its beginnings early in the century until the 1950s, when serious controversy hit. The turmoil produced four pastoral changes in five years. Pastor Number 1 was forced to resign suddenly, the trustee board voting to shut off all parsonage utilities if he was not out in thirty days. Pastor 2 scheduled a tent revival, with church approval-but then had to pay for it himself when the lay officers refused the bills. He resigned after nine months.
Pastor 3 lasted twenty months, splitting the church. Approximately 20 percent of the congregation followed him to start a new work. Pastor 4, an interim pastor recommended by the state denominational office, was ousted nine months later by the local officers, who questioned both his ability and doctrine.
Pastor 5, upon arrival in town, was forced to make his debut not in the pulpit but in court, where a lawsuit between church officers was in progress. Despite this rugged start, he managed over the next six years to heal much of the breach. He also did me a great favor when I succeeded him in 1961: he personally asked a troublesome man, who had left the church, not to come back and make life difficult for the young incoming pastor!
I soon noticed that the finance room, in which the trustees met, was always locked. If I knocked during one of their meetings, the door was opened reluctantly. A friendly trustee eventually told me why-his colleagues wanted to make sure I wouldn’t “take over” the way my predecessor had.
Ah, the blessed checks and balances of democracy.
By chance, I discovered that the trustees were being charged double interest on a large church note. I pointed out the problem, much to the embarrassment of all. The savings from that point on were sizable, and I never found the door locked after that.
The infighting calmed over the next years. These were not bad people, I found, intent on causing random havoc; they were simply trying to care for their church the only way they knew. By 1970, we were able to face a major, potentially divisive issue and settle it without an explosion. The chance to buy a larger building came up suddenly. The seller insisted on a decision within twenty-four hours. The membership did not even get a chance to look it over; they simply came together to hear their pastor and trustees say that this was a good opportunity and God would prosper us if we would step out in faith. The prize tag was $105,000.
They voted yes, unanimously. A taste for the joy of unity was planted within us that day. We began to wonder if we were in some sense a favored people, chosen by God to minister to others in some specific ways. Four years later, the mortgage was burned without a building fund drive. Unsolicited gifts had ranged as high as $25,000, some of them from nonmembers. We praised God together, and I realized that the trust level between the people and me was reaching new heights.
The 1970s were a flurry of activity at First Church of God. Choir rehearsals took up four days a week. We got interested in starting new congregations in urban areas of the South. We sent our own missionary team to Haiti. Back home, we started operating a coffee house, a bookstore, a food pantry, a clothing center. We had jumped on our service horse and ridden off in every direction.
Every activity required another committee. Decisions galore had to be made, and few people were authorized to make them quickly. I was spending my life in meetings, one after another, and neglecting my family as a result.
Underlying our busyness came the nagging feeling that we had no real sense of direction. More was being promised than fulfilled. A better building, a bigger congregation (up 300 percent for the decade), and larger offerings somehow weren’t enough to satisfy. We began talking more about what we were meant to be.
By 1978 we had renovated our building to accommodate the day care and school program, and our hearts were set on beginning a 1,000-seat sanctuary-when we hit a roadblock. Actual construction costs would be twice the initial estimate. It would take us at least two years to raise the money, and we were already running above 500 for worship in a sanctuary that seated 450.
The building committee found an existing church for sale at a fraction of the other cost. It had adequate space and was in sound condition. But should we buy it? Should we give up the dream? You can imagine that the business meetings were long and emotional.
We finally voted to buy the existing building. Thankfully, we lost no members in the process. Moving to occupy the new facility on Toledo’s “church row,” Collingwood Boulevard, however, seemed to signal the need for other changes. Were we structured to face future issues in the best way? We opened the door for a closer look at how our local body was put together.
Battles We Didn’t Have to Fight
Looking back, I can see several advantages that made such a self-assessment possible. First was the conviction, deeply held, that we ought to follow the principles of the New Testament church. We needed to study that church in more detail, but the congregation was committed to conform to whatever we learned.
Another long-taught and widely held conviction was that we must continually rely on the guidance of the Holy Spirit. We were convinced that he is not static-but alive, dynamic, and verbal. If he led us into uncharted waters, we would follow.
The third blessing was a small but vigorous group of senior members who were not afraid of change. Both the deacon chairman and the trustee chairman had been in office for more than thirty years-and realized it was perhaps time to step down. The Christian education leader had suffered an incapacitating stroke. These were all proven persons, respected and followed, but wise enough to admit that the conflict of the 1950s had cost the church an entire generation of young people. They seemed determined to redeem their grandchildren.
The fourth battle that was avoided was mistrust of the pastor’s motives. This overhaul of structure began eighteen years after my call. People will follow a leader who they are convinced is following God. Vision is necessary, but if it is to prosper, it must be built upon a foundation of love, trust, and confidence.
Sometimes it takes years for a flock to get comfortable with its shepherd. The two building decisions of the 1970s had laid a good groundwork. Now the time was ripe to proceed with change.
Renovation Time
We began with a men’s weekend retreat, taking apart several books on the church and spiritual leadership. Then in January, 1980, we launched an “All-Church Retreat”-actually, a series of events for the entire congregation. We cleared the month’s calendar of everything but Sunday morning worship. Instead, we held discussion and sharing sessions twice each week. And twice more each week, the same people met in small groups to wrestle with our purpose, strategy, and structure.
It was intense, but by the end of the month, we had hammered out a statement of purpose and some additional methods for implementing it. We honed and polished these things for another three months, until in May we formally voted to suspend the bylaws for six months and try out our concepts. The vote was unanimous.
What our church was really all about, the statement said, was “to be a loving fellowship of committed believers worshiping together, seeking to reconcile persons to Christ, mature them in him, and involve them in ministry to one another and the world.” We followed this with a list of our four main strategies: celebrating together, demonstrating koinonia, witnessing, and discipling.
This meant reorganizing the church according to our purpose. Organizations and activities were no longer justified just because of tradition. The question was: Are they consistent with our mission? Do they help us get the job done?
When the dust had settled, we no longer had a men’s organization, a women’s organization, a board of Christian education, or a board of trustees. Their functions were either swallowed up elsewhere or found to be unnecessary. And there was very little opposition. Most leaders wanted a change. A few of them had second thoughts when they found themselves no longer in leadership positions. When three adult choirs merged into one, some leaders felt left out and told me so. But they were not bitter; they were just struggling to find new places of service. And with time, they found them.
The key concept regarding leadership was that it was no longer a political plum but rather a spiritual ministry. In the future, leaders would no longer be elected for three-year terms but recognized and confirmed indefinitely by the membership. They would not run against each other; their names would simply be put before the body with this question: “Is this person spiritually qualified to be a leader?”
At the May business meeting, all the offices of the church and its organizations were declared vacant. Leadership was placed in the hands of a new, single board, the Council of Deacons, which would provide direction in five areas: stewardship, education, body life, evangelism, and missions.
Each new deacon would take a long look at his or her gifts and then ask to be assigned to one of five Servant Boards, actually sub-working groups of the Council of Deacons. These boards would meet as often as necessary-usually twice a month-to do their work and bring recommendations to the whole council.
We confirmed thirty-four deacons at that first meeting, nominated by the congregation and approved by at least an 80 percent vote. When the six-month trial period was over, there was no doubt in our minds that the new direction was on target. We rewrote our by-laws and moved ahead with joy.
Since then we have added two to six deacons each fall, until the total council now stands at forty-eight-twenty-one men and twenty-seven women. Starting in July each year, we provide forms in the bulletin about once a month for deacon nominations. On the left side are printed the spiritual qualifications from 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1. On the right side are blanks to be filled in, and a place to sign your name. We receive twenty to twenty-five nominations each year in this way.
The council screens these and presents those fully qualified to the congregational meeting. Interestingly, the members have not confirmed all our nominees. Each year they have turned down some. But the choices they have confirmed have been excellent, decided on the basis of spiritual qualifications, not head-to-head comparisons.
New deacons are considered to be in training for the first year, after which we hold an ordination service for them. Only two have dropped out at this point, one voluntarily, the other after discussion with me.
The typical monthly Council of Deacons meetings give direction, set policy, and implement our ongoing plan, since day-to-day work is handled by the Servant Boards. For example, the council recently wrestled with whether to make Sunday school the prime vehicle for our education, evangelism, and fellowship groups. This was revolutionary-it would require everyone (choir members, ushers, youth leaders, etc.) to become active in Sunday school, and it would mean scrapping Sunday evening worship in order to set up a home visitation program. We studied the change very carefully, but in the end adopted it unanimously. Two months later, Sunday school attendance was up 150 percent.
We have dealt with emotional issues-how to handle the weddings of divorced persons, for example. The current council contains divorced persons, so the subject was more than just academic to them. It took us several meetings to decide that we would perform second marriages, but only in the church parlor-not at the altar. I am not holding this up as a perfect policy; I am simply illustrating a hard question on which we came to agreement in the end.
Some Reflections
Veteran pastor Paul W. Powell, a Baptist from Texas, has written, “The best leadership occurs when, after the project is over, the people say, ‘We did it.’ ” I am so glad we developed our changes together, with input from as many people as possible. A “pastor’s plan” would never have worked, even with my long tenure in this church. It had to be God’s plan as discerned by his people.
Important to the acceptance of change was that we announced each step as an experiment, with the option to return to our former ways. Nothing was set in concrete. We could always change our changes. We designed things, tried them out for 90 to 180 days, and then carefully evaluated before pronouncing them permanent.
We learned again the value and necessity of prayer. We prayed in meetings, before meetings, and after meetings. We prayed corporately and individually. We were convinced that prayer would change things-attitudes, mind-sets, ignorance, and anything else that needed changing. The person who headed up our prayer effort in those days has now become a staff member, our minister of intercession.
When we rewrote our by-laws, we purposely obeyed an old rule about preaching: Keep it short and simple, and the people will love you. The old bylaws had run on for pages and pages; the new set is only five and a half. The methodology for implementing our task is in a separate handbook that can he altered without moving heaven and earth. This arrangement allows us to stay flexible while still holding to the course.
The single most important change, of course, has been the principle of shared leadership. There is no real voting among the leaders; there is rather a yearning for unanimity. Early on, one deacon objected to an otherwise unanimous agreement on selling some church-owned property. We did not run over his opinion; we stopped for further prayer and discussion. In the end, a much better price was gained, and the wisdom of consensus was reinforced.
The sharing of decision-making power is risky, but the feeling is spreading among us that we now have a local church guided not by history, traditions, or by-laws but by Spirit-led men and women. A revolution of form is not enough, but it does provide a vehicle to present the gospel and nurture those who receive it. The body is no longer muscle-bound; it is free to better fulfill its mission in the world.
Robert Culp is pastor of First Church of God (Anderson), Toledo, Ohio.
Copyright © 1983 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
