GAINING RESPECT THE OLD-FASHIONED WAY

One day at my previous church, my sermon was coming in a rush. Then the telephone rang. It was Terry, one of our members.

After some beating around the bush, he finally said, “Pastor, we’re not going to attend at Central anymore.”

Although he softened his adios with compliments and nothing-personals, it came as a blow.

I answered grimly, “I hate to see you go, but I want what’s best for you and Karen.”

Actually, Terry’s departure was not a total surprise. For several months he and Karen had, inexplicably, grown distant, despite the fact I’d been giving them a lot of extra attention with several visits to their home. At those times, in an effort to lower barriers, I would shift out of the formal pastor mode and talk with them some about the White Sox and Cubs, about neighborhoods and Chicago politics. Somehow, the more I tried to be their friend, the stiffer our relationship grew.

Now it was ending.

I happened to know the pastor of the church they were transferring to, a man of tireless decorum. It seemed my “friends” wanted someone they could look up to, a pastor, not a pal.

Why Worry about Respect?

After some years in ministry, I have come to conclude that respect means a pastor stands on at least a low pedestal. If a pastor is not respected, the usual alternative is being humored or indulged.

I had assumed people would respect me simply for my commitment to Christ. My prayer life was strong, my study of Scripture sound, my motives good. But such secret things didn’t appear to matter.

I needed more of the pastoral “right stuff” that compels believers to heed a pastor’s preaching, follow his leadership, and emulate his example. In order to fulfill my calling to lead the church and disciple believers, I needed a certain measure of esteem from my people. But I shuddered at the idea of intentionally seeking respect; it smacked of becoming a self-promoting poseur. For the sake of effectiveness, though, I recognized it was necessary.

I also realized that respect for spiritual leaders is both commanded and expected in Scripture.

“Now we ask you, brothers, to respect those who work hard among you, who are over you in the Lord and who admonish you. Hold them in the highest regard in love because of their work” (1 Thess. 5:12-13). In comparison to their own “real jobs,” people sometimes trivialize the work of the pastor with comments such as, “What do you do all day?” or “Why do you need a day off?” or “It must be nice to just read the Bible and pray.” But our work rightly is to be highly regarded.

“Obey your leaders and submit to their authority. They keep watch over you as men who must give an account. Obey them so that their work will be a joy, not a burden, for that would be of no advantage to you” (Heb. 13:17). This implies a deference to the authorities’ leadership, something I saw several months ago in a committee meeting of nine pastors and our district superintendent.

“I’m not here to ram through my agenda,” the district superintendent said. “I want to know how you feel about this issue.” As the meeting progressed, we nevertheless could sense his preference, which was not the majority’s leaning. Several of the pastors expressed reservations but also said, in effect, “This is the way I feel, but if you think the proposed plan would be better for everyone involved, then I support you as the leader of our district.”

They were not being obsequious. I sensed that strong-willed individuals were voicing their opinion but then deferring to their superintendent’s leadership because they respected both him and his position.

How Much Is Too Much?

As with most good things, immaturity or the sinful nature can twist pastoral respect into something harmful. Sure, I would love my people to acquiesce to my every whim, celebrate a pastor appreciation Sunday once a month (or more), and revere me like a judge in a courtroom. But is that what God intended?

One pastor I heard at a conference said that he did not visit the homes of people in his congregation or dine with them, not even board members. That type of “hobnobbing” would cripple his ability to minister prophetically, he claimed.

So I watch my motives. Do I, like the Pharisees, delight in platform seats, greetings at the mall, head tables, titles? Do I tend to construe disagreement as rebellion?

But if my motives are pure, then the words of one retired pastor ring true: “A pastor must be a person who commands respect.” At first I didn’t like those words. They sounded too militaristic, too authoritarian. I dismissed them as a vestige of this pastor’s old, southern ways. As my ecclesiastic odometer has spun a bit, though, I’ve come to see that earning respect is too important to neglect.

Here are four ways we pastors can earn genuine respect.

Show Ourselves Worthy

Ernie Moen, a district superintendent in Illinois, says, “I cannot stand in the pulpit and command the congregation to respect me. It is earned by demeanor, by love, by character.”

Character and integrity are the bedrock of respect. Especially in this immoral age, a leader with probity stands out. That often means concerning ourselves with the small things. A pastor who is neither an embezzler nor an adulterer tarnishes his name nevertheless by forgotten appointments, rudeness, broken promises, unpaid bills, fitful office hours, fibs, gluttony, disorganization.

In addition to integrity, a pastor earns respect by competence. One pastor tells of a blunder that cost him respect: “It was Saturday, and our new building was scheduled for its inaugural service the next day. We had worked furiously the previous weeks and months to overcome construction delays. Now, with no time to spare, the inspector was there to look over the building and issue an occupancy permit.

“Thirty dusty volunteers from the church were standing around at the end of the day, leaning on brooms, when the city official walked across the bare cement floor and said to me, ‘There’s no way I can give you the permit. This building is not ready to go.’

“He went on to say a lot of harsh things, words he shouldn’t have used on anybody. I didn’t say anything to him, because I thought, I asked for an occupancy permit when we were not ready. I should have waited until all my ducks were in a row. This has backfired on me.

“I wasn’t prepared. As a result we had to cancel the meeting and our church dedication. That harsh, public turndown had a rippling effect that cost me considerable respect.”

Respect comes as we show ourselves trustworthy and competent in the minor details as well.

One Monday, Greg called. “Pastor, I want to take Bible courses at night,” he said enthusiastically. I suggested a school in the area, and he asked that I find the address and phone number.

“I’ll have it for you Wednesday night,” I said.

After we hung up, I wrote in my Day-Timer, Find info for Greg, and on Wednesday’s page, Give info to Greg. When I found the Formation, I wrote it on Wednesday’s page.

Two days later, after our church service, Greg tapped me on the shoulder to interrupt a conversation. “Pastor, I’m in a hurry,” he said. “Do you have that information?”

“Sure,” I replied. I opened my datebook, pointed to the number and address, handed him the book, and resumed my conversation. Later I found a note circled on my page, “Thanks, Pastor. You’re the greatest!”

Respect Ourselves

People take their cues about whether to respect a leader from the leader himself. Low self-esteem, which usually manifests itself in our bearing and facial expression and actions, announces, “I’m not sure I can lead this church effectively.”

Bob Schmidgall, pastor of Calvary Temple in Naperville, Illinois, says, “I’m sure there is a relationship between our self-respect and the level of respect we receive from others. Self-respect affects the way a person dresses, the way a person reacts to pressure situations, the way a person meets people. The one who does not respect himself tends to strike out, to push people away (when what he wants is for people to be close to him), to do the opposite of what should be done for good relationships.”

But when we esteem our God-given gifts and treat ourselves as persons of worth, we signal, “I believe God has equipped me to serve by leading. You can put your confidence in me.”

I once felt it was wrong to use personal illustrations that reflected well on me. I cringed as other ministers talked in sermons or books about their own accomplishments in prayer, study, or evangelism. To me it smacked of boasting. But I also noticed that church members found it challenging.

Since I rarely showcased my exploits, they didn’t think I had any. Instead, since I did admit my humanity, they figured me a second-rate pastor, thus diminishing my influence. So, like Paul in 2 Corinthians, I now force myself, occasionally, to illustrate with something God has done in my life, even if it does make me look good. I remembered that, for example, when I was writing this article and was tempted not to tell about finding the information for Greg.

Respect Our People

The habits and values of a community also affect the winning of respect. When I ministered to collegians, who customarily analyzed all sides of an issue and then formed conclusions, I taught Christian doctrine in similar fashion. I wanted to show my respect for their intelligence and to avoid being shrugged off as narrow-minded and dogmatic. The approach worked.

But when I moved to a congregation in inner-city Chicago, I discovered my people scorned such methods as spineless waffling. They wanted a forceful declaration of truth alone. To respect them meant I had to honor their need for clear, bold proclamation.

We cannot bend to every whim, but we earn respect by honoring our people’s expectations in clothing, vocabulary, office hours, leadership style. Paul showed it is not a character weakness to adapt for the sake of respect: “To the Jews I became like a Jew to win the Jews.”

A second way I’ve learned to respect my people is in the manner I handle the “partiality” that’s necessary in pastoral work. Whenever we select one person over others, the bypassed usually wonder, What’s wrong with me? Why didn’t the pastor choose me? Even fair choices can be misconstrued as favoritism.

In a business meeting at my previous congregation, we were to elect a new advisory board. In announcements prior to the meeting, I included, without explanation, these restrictions: “We urge everyone to attend, but only members may vote,” and “Only men are eligible for the advisory group.”

Immediately after one such announcement a woman raised her hand and asked, “Why can’t a woman be an adviser?” A week later someone told me that one man, who attended faithfully but ignored membership, had taken offense at being excluded from the vote, saying, “I’m just as good a Christian as anybody else in the church.”

At the heart of these complaints is the matter of respect. Both people felt snubbed. I didn’t then go out and change our guidelines, because in my opinion they weren’t unfair, but I did hasten to supply full explanations, which satisfied most. I have learned to explain before something can be misinterpreted as partiality, and to do it in an affirming way. For example, over the women’s issue, I made sure to communicate that women and men have equal worth in God’s sight and that the advisory group would seek the input of women. Then when I explained the church’s theological reasons for holding this position, even people who disagreed knew I did indeed respect them.

Confront Disrespectful Actions

There come times, however, for correction, even admonishment. As Paul told Titus, “Do not let anyone despise you.”

When facing disrespect, I take a page from parental experience. Because parents are responsible for molding children’s character and are in a position of authority, they don’t turn the other cheek to contempt; rather, they confront.

If overlooked, disrespect tends to be repeated, only next time more blatantly. The pastor’s authority and influence dwindle even with the respectful, who disappointedly shake their heads as they would at a mother who benignly lets her 3-year-old throw tantrums in the supermarket.

What, however, is genuinely disrespectful behavior? When is admonition truly in order, and when is the pastor just quick to the gauntlet, quick to duel? Based on the experience of several pastors I’ve talked to, a believer crosses the line of propriety through any of the following offenses:

A direct challenge to the pastor’s authority. One pastor tells, “In my first church I had a fellow who was a Diotrephes needing to have the preeminence. On one occasion, in an effort to assert himself, he said to me, ‘Why don’t you have your wife preach? She’s got more sense than you do.’ For that I felt I had to confront him, and I did.

“We didn’t have pleasantries during my entire tenure at that church. However, after many years I saw his daughter, who is now a pastor’s wife. She hugged me, cried, and told me how the family loves and appreciates me, and how I got them started right. There was a good relationship of respect built even though I didn’t let him run the church.”

Efforts to demean the pastor. Another pastor relates, “It was my second Sunday at this church. I was without staff, still trying to get my feet on the ground. After the service an elderly gentleman asked me to visit a man he had talked to in prison. I said I would do my best to get there.

“The next Sunday as he was walking to the door, he asked if I had seen that prisoner. I said no.

“He exploded, ‘You’re just like all the rest of them. You say you love souls, but given a chance, you won’t go.’ He continued to rant and rave. This was in the foyer with other people around.

“I grabbed him firmly by the hand and said, ‘Please step to my office so that we can speak in private.’ He refused. I then got him off to the side, along with a board member who saw this unfolding, and said, ‘Sir, I may have disappointed you by not making that visit, but I am the pastor. You may have been a Christian longer than I’ve been alive, but you will not address me in that tone of voice again.’

“He mumbled, ‘I’m sorry,’ and walked out the door. But he came back to the church and has been good as gold ever since.”

Excessive and unjustified criticism and complaints. “In a board meeting, one man accusingly said, ‘Pastor, why is the November missions income $200 short of October’s?’ as though I had failed my responsibility,” remembers one minister.

“I responded not by rebuking the person but by teaching the entire group. I said, ‘My job is to report the budget, and it’s the congregation’s job to support it.’ “

Questions before Confronting

After a recent midweek sermon, I encouraged discussion as I usually do. Joan stood, turned her back to me and her face to the congregation, and, as if rebutting an editorial, proceeded to disagree flatly with part of my message. She didn’t pose her remarks as a question or an opinion for my response; her comment came across as, “He’s wrong.”

I felt her remarks reflected terribly on me in public. Immediately I began to ask myself some important questions:

Was it deliberate? Larry Griswold, who pastors in Joliet, Illinois, says, “If someone expresses disrespect to me, my first response is to show a servant spirit, a meek spirit, toward that person. Whether it was done with deliberateness has to be proved over time, so I’m going to endure it for a while. Then, having proved the person’s spirit, I also will have demonstrated mine. On the strength of that, I am able to confront if necessary.”

Joan had a habit of tactlessly saying things, unintentionally hurting the feelings of many. So when she sat down, and her blue eyes calmly met mine as if nothing had happened, I merely said, “Joan, I will give that some thought.”

What is the person’s attitude toward me and authority in general? I knew Joan interceded daily for me and the church. So I didn’t think mischief was afoot, and I moved on: “Does anyone else have a question?” Others asked about this and that, and I answered in as warm and strong a voice as I could muster.

Will this undermine my respect with the rest of the congregation? If disrespect had been shown by someone who lacked credibility, no one would have thought twice. The effect on the church and on my leadership would have been nil. But Joan was the Sunday school superintendent and an opinion leader. Her deeds had weight. With its high stakes, public disrespect demands quicker response than private. I decided to talk with Joan after the service.

After the soothing tones of the closing prayer, I made brisk steps toward her, only to be waylaid by others with prayer requests. By the time I finished with them, she was gone.

How do others feel? Does anyone else take it seriously?

As I sat in my office a few minutes later, Vince, one of our leaders, walked in, closed the door, and said, “Pastor, do you want me to talk with Joan about what she said? That was terrible.” I was now even more convinced of the need for action.

I tried unsuccessfully to reach Joan by phone for several days. With more time for thought, other questions arose.

Am I unwittingly the cause of the problem? In this case I concluded that my demeanor invited aggressors. In recent weeks comments in the after-sermon discussion had become increasingly controversial and opinionated. But I had smiled and said nothing about them.

What are my motives? Others will sense any hint of pride, vengefulness, or defensiveness. Though confrontation may be in order, we must proceed humbly or people will perceive us as carnal, thus providing an excuse for pointing at the pastor, instead of themselves.

I could honestly say my motives were right, the welfare of Joan and the church uppermost in my mind. This decision steeled me to speak to her.

How will he or she respond? Will the person angrily pick up the phone and start churchwide earthquakes? Should I anticipate an unteachable response and minimize its harm, perhaps by discussing the situation with leaders in the church and including one of them in the meeting?

Joan is a conscientious disciple, but also strong-minded, so I didn’t know if she would agree or change, but I felt certain the church would not experience far-reaching aftershocks.

Who should confront? The involvement of other leaders can show the offender he or she has violated the sensibilities of all. And Vince had offered to correct Joan. But I felt I had to establish my authority, and she would consider me weak if I sent out hired guns.

On Saturday afternoon Joan finally answered the phone. After we exchanged pleasantries, I said, “Joan, I’m calling because of your comment at the end of Wednesday’s service.” I told her I felt it was disrespectful and that I hoped she would use more tact in the future.

Silence-for more than thirty seconds. Then she replied firmly, “I disagree. I certainly didn’t intend it to be disrespectful, and I don’t think it was. But if you interpreted it that way, I’m sorry.”

In measured tones I persisted and explained for half an hour. She never agreed, but the call ended amicably, with her assurances there would be no repeat performances.

The following Wednesday evening, Joan stood during the service, walked to the microphone, and apologized to the congregation, adding, “I wouldn’t want to have any other pastor.” We hugged and prayed. Since then our relationship, based firmly on mutual respect, has been stronger than ever.

-Craig Brian Larson is pastor of Arlington Heights (Illinois) Assemblies of God Church.

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