PASTORING BEGINS WITH THE SEARCH COMMITTEE

On a June Sunday morning, I was introduced to the Victorian stained glass, antique woodwork, and cushioned pews of First Covenant Church. But in spite of the beauty, I preached under tension. I needed a call-and fast.

The autumn before, my church, while not actually giving me notice, had sent unmistakable signals that eleven years was, let’s say, enough. So I’d been looking for eight months. One search committee had interviewed me and turned me down, and another congregation had missed issuing me a call by three votes. Now I was preaching at First Covenant.

After the service we drove to a trustee’s home for dinner with the search committee. The atmosphere was different than when candidating at previous churches. Conversation flowed easily over dinner, and then, after the dishes had disappeared into the kitchen, talk shifted to the church. No obvious seam marked the passage from mere talk to serious business, but before I realized it, the interview was in progress. I wasn’t performing; I was being myself.

I eventually received the call. I suspect the non-adversarial and pastoral tone established over dinner had something to do with the mutually positive impressions we had of one another.

Think pastor, not applicant

A primary attitude in candidating, I decided, was to remember that getting the job is secondary to doing the job. When I candidate, I want to think like a pastor and not like a job applicant. My pastorate begins, potentially if not actually, the moment I meet the search committee, because that meeting establishes personal relationships.

In that meeting I’m confronted by several strangers who seem to hold my future in their hands. So I try to reduce that feeling to size by remembering that God actually holds my future. I need to consider the search committee primarily as brothers and sisters in Christ, representatives of my potential congregation, not as powerful employers controlling my prospects.

What I do and say in the next hour or so will set the tone for a potential pastorate. If I set it wrongly and still get the call, I’ll live with the consequences, for I may create expectations I cannot fill. If I set it rightly, my pastorate will begin to bear fruit even before the moving van unloads.

Give accurate impressions

I’ll shine my shoes and press my clothes for candidating, of course, but a truly favorable impression comes as a by-product of honest interaction, not from trying to be impressive.

I once thought I could impress a congregation that seemed tailored for my gifts. They wanted me to answer, extemporaneously before the congregation, written questions submitted anonymously. Though I questioned the wisdom of the strategy, I was sure I could handle it. For ninety minutes I answered head-on and with conviction forty-two questions on everything from eschatology and inerrancy to work habits and personal weaknesses. I thought I wowed them.

But does a church really need a pastor capable of answering forty-two questions impressively? Probably not, since I didn’t receive the call. I had focused my attention not on what the people wanted to learn about me, but upon how well I could perform in front of them.

And what if I had been called? What tone would I have set by my performance? What would I have had to live with pastorally? I couldn’t set the agenda that day, but I could have turned my response toward the pastoral rather than the impressive.

Let rapport develop naturally

I quickly feel comfortable with strangers, especially Christians. Yet I have to be careful not to act too casual with committees; it can broadcast wrong signals.

When I’m familiar prematurely, I inadvertently assume people will understand what I mean rather than what I say. My friends and relatives know I mean no harm when I kid or give jesting answers to serious questions, but strangers might not. I set a more appropriate tone if I assume they feel more shy of me than I do of them. It’s better for me to open up genuinely but not hurriedly.

Other candidates may feel especially shy around strangers and may need to turn this advice around. While the candidating situation may not be as intimate as I assume it is, it may be far less onerous than others expect.

Don’t underestimate differences

When I want a call too much, I’m tempted to tell the search committee what they want to hear or fuzz obvious differences of opinion. To set an honest tone, I need to communicate my values and let the committee communicate theirs-with as much give and take as necessary to understand one another.

There are a couple of pitfalls in the process, however. The first is making something sound more important than it is. I stated in my resume that I would have difficulty serving a church that doesn’t use the Covenant hymnal. I’d meant that a church confused about its denominational loyalty would be difficult to pastor, but I had to clarify that in the interview. Otherwise, the committee would have thought they would have to buy new hymnals to please me-and would have weighed that issue more heavily than I intended. Search committees will usually take our statements literally, so we have to be precise about what we believe is important.

The second pitfall is failing to put on the table the nonnegotiables the committee really ought to know. For instance, it was easy to bend on the hymnal issue, but denominational identity is nonnegotiable for me. Once I candidated in a church in which denominational identity had been a low priority. I did my best to clarify its importance to me, and a committee member replied, “It is for us to decide whether we are really going to be a Covenant church or not.” I didn’t belong there, but it wouldn’t have come up had I fuzzed my beliefs. The committee shouldn’t have to guess what I think about relevant issues.

Promise only what can be delivered

Finally, I have learned not to be too specific about what I plan to do in the potential pastorate. Beyond the obvious chores set by the church’s program, I actually know little of what I might do. I don’t know the extent of crises in the congregation. I don’t know how much discretionary time I will have. I don’t know what hidden expectations the congregation will place upon me.

In an interview, it’s tempting to make grand promises (often concerning visitation) that will become impossible to keep and come back to haunt me.

What I can communicate, however, is a philosophy of ministry. In one candidating sermon, I said that in preaching, both minister and congregation are engaged in the most important thing that can be done. The sermon led to a question in the afternoon: “What is the second most important thing that can he done?” Fair enough.

In such a sermon, I didn’t promise exactly how I’d use my days, but I did clarify a priority, and by so doing, I revealed my general style of ministry.

Although the church mainly sets the agenda for the candidating visit, my responses can set the tone. And the tone I set is the one I’ll eventually live with. That’s why we should begin pastoring even before the congregation makes up its mind.

-Everett L. Wilson

First Covenant Church

Marinette, Wisconsin