MY WORST MISTAKE IN A BOARD MEETING

I felt ambushed. The elder set down his Styrofoam cup, stared across the table at me, and said, “The choir feels absolutely no support whatsoever from this church, and especially from you!” And I, the twenty-eight-year-old pastor in the early months of my first solo pastorate, considered my leadership, nay, my very manhood called into public question.

My accuser, the crusty comptroller of one of Southern California’s biggest aerospace firms and a veteran of many a smoke-filled room, was baiting me. And did I take the bait!

At first I just stared at him, speechless. Then I turned beet red. Swallowing my emotions, I somehow made it through the meeting without exploding. Still fuming afterward, I told him, “I’d like a word with you in my office.” Once inside, I closed the door and literally backed him into a corner. “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again!”

At first he looked at me incredulously, but then he burst into uproarious laughter-and hugged me. “Aw, Vic,” he chuckled, “I love you. You know that!” After he calmed me down, he prayed with me. I must have matured about ten years that night. That elder turned out to be my strongest supporter in ministry.

Sometimes I wonder why clergy are so thin skinned. In the outside world, leaders continually face blunt assessment. Why should I be immune? What’s more, I must be free to evaluate and challenge lay leaders, but unless I am willing to accept their not-always-tactful evaluation of my leadership, I forfeit the right to evaluate theirs.

I learned that honest feedback is the breakfast of champions-even when it hurts.

-Vic Pentz

First Presbyterian Church

Yakima, Washington

My biggest mistake was philosophical: I began to treat the governing board as a business rather than a church.

During one of my annual reviews, several elders mentioned they did not feel I had good management or administrative skills. So I hastily threw myself into remedial work. I took high-priced workshops on “How to Work with People.” I read the requisite books. And I tackled the job of managing Session meetings, delegating tasks to elders, and sharpening communication lines.

But something was missing. While wanting to create a Session living by faith and trusting God, I marshaled one that lived by works and trusted no one, since no one could do as much as was needed. We ended up focusing on what wasn’t being accomplished instead of the myriad thousands of miracles God was doing in the congregation.

There’s good news; we’re moving in a different direction now. Our elders certainly desire to do the business well, but they want to lead guided by Christ and not by church-league politics. They want to grow spiritually. Now the Session agenda includes praying together, dealing with each other in a compassionate way, and making the scriptural mandate for elders more significant than the business world’s mandate for a board of directors.

-Jan B. Armstrong

Community Presbyterian Church

Incline Village, Nevada

I was three months into my first pastorate in a small, rural church. Christmas that year-the first for my wife and me away from family-was on a Sunday. With a Christmas Eve service the day before, and with the regular Sunday morning service plus Sunday school on Christmas Day, I had hoped to cancel the Sunday evening service. It attracted but a handful even when it wasn’t a holiday. That would put our family on the road by noon so we could join relatives by 6 P.M. for part of Christmas Day.

My careful plans underestimated one board member. When I suggested canceling the service-the third within twenty-two hours-this deacon began to cry. He wondered aloud, “What kind of pastor would not want to be in the Lord’s house the day and night of his Savior’s birth?”

Although the service was canceled when the other five board members admitted reluctantly they would not attend, I never recovered in the eyes of that deacon.

-Robert T. Wenz

Clifton Park Community Church

Clifton Park, New York

One of comedian Flip Wilson’s old routines involved situations where, walking away, he thought “I wish I hadda” responded in a different way. I know the feeling.

The council meeting droned on as members, for the umpteenth time, complained about the church organist. He was an elderly gentleman and very dedicated, but unfortunately he was fast losing his hearing. Vanity or whatever kept him from responding to the music committee’s pleas to acquire hearing aids.

Now, more often than not, the music intended to provide quiet continuity to worship was played at a volume that felt like a minor earthquake. During the anthem, the choir appeared to be just mouthing the words, their voices buried in the din of accompaniment.

The council finally voted to ask the organist to retire. Concerned that this be handled with kindness and compassion, I volunteered to meet with the music committee and the organist. As kindly as possible, we shared with the organist the wishes of the congregation. He took it hard. It hurt to watch this kindly old gent suffer the rejection.

In retrospect, I wish I hadda kept my mouth shut and allowed the council to carry out its own decision. My involvement in the dismissal showed my lack of trust in the Lord’s people. They could be just as caring and sensitive as I. Further, rather than acting as a buffer, I became the target of this man’s anger. It made it impossible for me to minister to him in his pain of rejection.

I once read that wisdom is the intelligence that keeps you from getting into situations that require-you guessed it-wisdom. Hopefully, I’ll know better . . . next time.

-G. Patrick White

Mayflower Congregational Church

Godfrey, Illinois

When I was pastoring, I chaired a board meeting that had been, at best, uneventful. Finished with the planned agenda, I naively asked, “Does anyone else have anything to bring up?” Fifty people nodded no. But one woman stood up.

She was concerned that the evangelism budget would no longer pay for the paper plates used in our hospitality dinners after church. “Without that money, we will have to tell the people cooking for the potluck to bring their own plates. I think that’s unfair!” Open went Pandora’s box. Forty-five minutes of heated discussion elapsed.

Yes, we finally resolved the problem, but not before our church paper headlined its next issue: “Board Split over Paper Plate Controversy.” During a meeting of people committed to the sublime, the ridiculous dominated.

-James J. Londis

College Park, Maryland