I entered the world of competitive swimming the summer before I started high school. Over the next six years, I swam in three hundred races and spent more than one hundred total days in the water.
During this time I worked under three different coaches. Each had a great influence on my swimming career. They were persuasive. When they spoke, I listened. They all possessed high credibility in my eyes, yet the reason for my regard varied greatly from man to man. The nature of the credibility was different in each case.
Coach Moyle was a whirlwind of activity. It was he who spotted me that first summer as I lounged by the side of the pool. He walked over briskly and began to persuade me to join the club team. He claimed he could make me into a great swimmer. I was flattered. No outside adult had taken an avid interest in me before. He painted a picture of healthy exercise, friendship with other swimmers, and the ribbons, medals, and trophies that could be mine. It was impossible to say no to such an enthusiastic, outgoing person.
His irresistible excitement continued throughout the summer. He tailored practices just for me, took movies of my stroke, had me work out with a gal who was training for the Olympics, and called me the night before each meet to discuss strategy for the next day’s race. We can label this facet of credibility dynamism, enthusiasm, responsiveness, or activity. Whatever we call it, Coach Moyle had it-and it made him a credible source.
In terms of energy, my high school coach was the exact opposite. Coach Tweedie was a slow-moving, hesitant man who never raised his voice. He didn’t seem excited when we won or upset when we lost. Yet he had a cluster of character traits that gave him high ethos-Aristotle’s term for a speaker’s ethical appeal-in my eyes.
Coach Tweedie was a good man, honest and straightforward. In the four years I swam for him, I never saw him do anything devious or say a mean word. High school kids can be quite cruel to each other, so he took great pains to insure that no member of the team would be hurt by the thoughtless words of others. He was interested in me as a person. He’d often stay after practice and ask about my studies, family, or dating life. After I became a Christian, he was willing to share his own beliefs and express his inner doubts. He didn’t pretend to know much about the technique of swimming-he was a gym teacher assigned to coach the team. But because of his personal warmth and integrity, I worked hard for the man. We can call this aspect of credibility character, trustworthiness, or safety. Coach Tweedie inspired confidence because he appeared to be without guile.
If my high school coach radiated warmth, my college coach struck me as a cold fish. He seemed distant and aloof. He spoke to me individually only once or twice a week. Yet when he did deign to give me advice, I hung on every word. The reason was simple: Coach Steiger knew more about competitive swimming than everyone else I’d met put together. In ten seconds he could spot what I was doing wrong. What’s more, he could tell me clearly and precisely how to correct the problem. In the sport of swimming, Coach Steiger was authoritative, intelligent, competent, and qualified. These terms describe the third aspect of ethos.
I’ve spoken of these three components as if they’re mutually exclusive. They’re not. It’s quite possible for someone to be regarded as authoritative, trustworthy, and dynamic all at the same time. Those who possess this kind of charisma obviously have a huge head start in the race to influence. People want to believe them. They have only to state their case. Unless they suggest something patently ridiculous or offensive, attitudes and actions will change.
A hero today, a bum tomorrow
We’ve been talking about credibility as if it were a fixed entity-something you either have or you don’t. Nothing could be further from the truth. A person’s credibility with a given audience is constantly changing. It can go up and down like a yo-yo.
Consider my view of Senator Mark Hatfield of Oregon. Hatfield has long been my favorite politician. He’s honest, says what he believes, and has an engaging sense of humor. He took an early stand against American involvement in Vietnam and has championed legislation to feed the hungry. As a Christian, he articulates his faith in a modest and winsome way. To me, he is a highly credible source. (Incidentally, don’t be put off if you don’t share my judgment of Hatfield. If you react differently to the man, it just shows the established principle that credibility is in the eye of the beholder.)
I heard Hatfield speak two years ago. In his address he recommended that the United States cut back its aid to Israel. Hearing this was like a kick in the teeth. I’d always applauded our nation’s role in helping Israel survive while surrounded by hostile countries. Now I was in a quandary. Here was a man I liked recommending an action I didn’t like. How was I going to resolve this inconsistency?
I did it by making mental adjustments in my views both toward Israel and Hatfield. It’s as if both attitudes were at opposite ends of a stretched rubber band. I reduced the tension by pulling them both toward the center. Thus aid to Israel has become suspect in my mind. I no longer give a reflexive response of approval every time the issue comes up. But the speech modified my opinion of Hatfield as well. By taking this stand, he lost some of the credibility I’d ascribed to him.
It’s important to realize that this new level of credibility wasn’t written in stone either. Since that time I’ve heard things about Hatfield that have lifted him back up higher than he was before the speech.
We can think of credibility as a bank account. People build credit through their words and deeds that meet with others’ approval. These deposits increase the potential to persuade. They can spend some of this acceptance capital in order to convince others. But if they keep spending and spending without acquiring new resources, they’ll go bankrupt; they’ll use up all their credibility. At this point we cease to believe them or take seriously what they say.
It’s even possible through deficit spending to get into a position of negative credibility. In this case, we react just the opposite of what such people want. Their words drive us away. If they’re for it, we’re against it.
So we see that credibility is an ever changing, fluid commodity. This has a number of implications for the Christian persuader:
It means we can never sit back on our haunches and think we have it made. Even Paul found it necessary to work at maintaining his ethos with the Christians at Corinth.
It also means we shouldn’t make a big deal out of every disagreement we have with others. It’s possible to lose our credibility over numerous minor issues and not have any left to draw on when something really important comes up. I know a Christian who argued with his next-door neighbor about his leaf-raking practices, fluoridation of water, the local school board election, and how to raise their children. When he had a chance to talk about what was really important to him-his faith in Jesus Christ-his reputation as a crabby reactionary blunted the force of his witness.
Finally, we need to realize that like money, credibility is only valuable when it’s used for something. It does no good to work constantly at building our image if we never take a stand. When vital issues arise, that’s the time to be willing to put our credibility on the line. As Mordecai counseled Esther, “Who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?”
-Emory A. Griffin
Professor of Speech Communication
Wheaton (Illinois) College
From The Mind Changers by Emory A. Griffin. Copyright 1976, Tyndale House Publishers. Inc. Adapted by permission.
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Balanced biblical Christianity is a rare phenomenon. It seems to be a characteristic of our fallen minds that we find it easier to grasp half-truths than to grasp the whole truth, and in consequence we become lopsided Christians.
-John R. W. Stott
When we discern that people are not going on spiritually and allow the discernment to turn to criticism, we block our way to God. God never gives us discernment in order that we may criticize, but that we may intercede.
-Oswald Chambers
Copyright © 1988 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
