The vote on the budget was fifty-nine in favor and fifty-eight opposed. I sat in shock. How could we possibly enter the new year with the membership so divided over a budget of several hundred thousand dollars?
Though I’d had my suspicions earlier, this was the first time I could clearly see the strength of the opposition. Would the fifty-eight support the budget? There seemed little hope. The issues were complex, but one kept resurfacing: “Too much money for young people and not enough for the rest of the church.” The cry reminded me of “money for guns but none for butter,” which has confounded many a president.
Our youth ministry was indeed extensive, and effective, but some felt it was too expensive. During the previous two years, our youth group had grown-attracting one thousand high schoolers to most events-and so had the youth budget. It had mushroomed from one salaried person and limited program funds to a total of more than fifty thousand dollars annually.
It was a time of unusual revival-and unusual conflict. Along with the significant blessings of such a movement was the imperative to maintain the unity of the church.
During this period, we were reasonably successful in maintaining physical unity; not many people left the church. But I began to detect an attempted “pocketbook veto” of the church’s direction. The giving for the general fund dropped sharply, while designated giving for missions increased by a comparable amount. Each week the opposition continued to vote against the program by means of their offering envelopes.
How do you override such a pocketbook veto? In this case, we simply waited to see if there were enough “votes” to sustain the veto. We began the year lagging behind budget, but over the course of the year, those supporting the program apparently outnumbered the opposition, and they gave enough to eventually meet and exceed the budget.
Sometimes, however, waiting it out isn’t enough. Action has to be taken.
Two years later, we faced another attempted veto. A staff member resigned, and a number of people were upset, feeling the board and I had made some bad decisions that led to the resignation. Again, the pattern was the same: money was directed to missions and away from the general fund, which pays the pastor’s salary!
My response was to meet individually with the folks most upset. I took them seriously, listened carefully, and tried to explain the factors as I saw them. I told how we tried to help the staff member find another position. In this case, with pastoral care, prayer, and attempted reconciliation, understanding grew. A pocketbook veto is an emotional reaction. Once these people felt they had been heard, they were satisfied.
Later, we detected a third situation. As summer approached, giving was dangerously low. Another pocketbook veto? I wasn’t sure, but I knew it was more than a characteristic summer slump. Could we eke it out and make up the deficit in December again? I didn’t think so. To override this undefined veto, I felt I needed to pay the price, literally.
I recommended to the board sweeping budget cuts, including a sizable cut in my own salary. The board implemented these cost-cutting measures, and when they were communicated to the congregation, they had a sobering effect. It was the first time the church had ever had to admit financial failure.
I still don’t know all the reasons for the shortfall, but over the next few months, the congregation began shouldering the financial responsibility again. The last Sunday of December saw us exceed our revised budget enough to meet most of our other obligations, including my full salary. Thank God for saints who want the church to be solvent!
One final note: I don’t know the amounts individuals give, nor do I want to know. I’ve always been somewhat in awe of people with wealth, and it has taken me years to feel comfortable around them. I admit my vulnerability.
Especially during attempted pocketbook vetoes, I would find it almost impossible not to let my attitude and pastoral care be influenced if I knew who had stopped supporting the ministry. Recognizing there’s nothing to gain by speculating, I consciously avoid trying to pin faces to financial fluctuations.
Someone has described a jet plane as “a few thousand parts flying in relatively close formation.” The church is like that, too. When parts start to come loose, my job as pastor is not to cast them aside but to help them rejoin the whole.
– Arthur E. Gay, Jr.
South Park Church
Park Ridge, Illinois
Copyright © 1987 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
