How to Get a Healthy Performance Review

We are highlighting Leadership Journal's Top 40, the best articles of the journal's 36-year history. We will be presenting them in chronological order. Today we present #23, from 1994.

Most pastors I know are committed to personal growth. Most spend hours reading, praying, and studying in an unending quest for spiritual and professional growth.

Yet, curiously, many of us avoid perhaps the most vital ingredient for such growth–a candid, but official assessment of how we are doing as spiritual leaders.

My friend Dave, in 15 years of ministry, has never received a formal evaluation. He's not unaware of the benefits; he's just keenly aware of potential pitfalls. He has felt the sting of betrayal, so he's determined to avoid any forum for grievances. The danger that an adversary may gain a soapbox far outweighs for him the possible benefits of a review.

In many ways, Dave is right. We take great risks by opening ourselves to evaluation. And while the scalpel of correction can be healthy, it also may be painful. Worse, we can expect a scalpel and instead receive the blunt ax of opposition.

I know two pastors who left seemingly successful ministries within months of bungled evaluations. There is no question: a performance review can be a delicate and risky event in the pastor-board relationship.

Despite the dangers, though, the hazards of avoiding a careful review are even greater.

WHY RISK IT?

We naturally exaggerate our strengths and downplay our weaknesses. So, to counteract my natural tendencies, I've risked the trauma of evaluation.

One study of more than 800,000 people found that virtually everyone considered themselves above average in the "ability to get along with others." Only 2 percent saw themselves as below average in "leadership ability." Obviously, at least half the folks were mistaken. They needed someone to help them sort reality from wishful thinking.

The fact is, we all have spiritual and personal blind spots. Like a loose thread or twisted collar, we seldom know they're there until someone dares to speak up.

If left alone, my blind spots become hardened personality traits. In the spiritual realm, they can become "high places"–areas of overlooked sin, similar to the sites of pagan sacrifices ignored by some of the best kings of Judah. I don't want that to happen, so I ask people to tell me how I'm doing.

Still, I'm hesitant to open myself for examination until I'm reasonably sure I can get the feedback I need without getting ambushed. That's why I've developed some guidelines for my pastoral reviews.

INITIATE THE PROCESS

Perhaps the most effective way to thwart potential problems is to initiate the process myself–before someone else does. This offers several benefits.

1. I disarm most potential enemies. Somehow an evaluation I've requested is radically different from one imposed by others. Once critics realize I actually want to hear what they have to say, they will often become less intense–less likely to feel they have to shout or to overstate their case for me to hear them.

Also, when I seek their input, their status is raised significantly. Instead of critics, they become consultants. Their elevated status may make some feel better about themselves and, in the process, about me.

2. It allows me a measure of control over the participants. The fact is, many reviews go awry because the wrong people do the evaluating.

That was Dave's major concern. His deacon board was a mess. Two of his biggest antagonists were deacons, and most of the rest of the board gave little evidence of spiritual maturity or insight. As far as Dave was concerned, they were not qualified to give spiritual or personal advice.

I would agree. But Dave failed to see that it wasn't necessary for his board members to do the reviewing. By initiating the process, he could choose anyone.

While serving as a youth pastor, I felt the deacons, while fine people, didn't know me or my ministry well enough to be of much help evaluating me. So I contacted some individuals involved in my area of ministry, as well as two staff pastors with whom I worked closely. I asked them to complete a brief questionnaire and then to discuss with me areas where they felt I needed to grow.

To keep the board from feeling slighted, I was careful to present this as a request for personal evaluation rather than a job performance review (a prerogative that rightly belonged to the board).

The result? A helpful evaluation by people who knew me and my ministry well enough to move beyond superficial impressions.

Of course, I can abuse the system, like Rehoboam, by surrounding myself with yes men rather than wise counselors. To avoid this, I've made a personal commitment never to change advisers merely because of what they say or think. It's only when their spiritual or moral failure renders their insight suspect that I look to others.

3. It allows me a measure of control over the process. When a pastoral evaluation is controlled by the board, I'm left with little say about the process. Since most lay leaders live in the business world, they tend to base performance reviews on business models. I heard of one pastor evaluated on questions used by an interstate trucking firm!

Such tools can provide a starting point, but I don't want my reviews to be limited to the typical employee review. What measures a productive engineer may not measure an effective minister. How well I'm doing my job and fitting into the organization's culture is only part of the picture. I also want to know where I need to grow as a leader, father, husband, and spiritual example.

4. I overcome the biggest obstacle to personal growth: my defensiveness. When I feel threatened, it's hard to hear what others are saying. Faced with criticism, it's easy to offer excuses rather than make positive changes. But when I ask for a critique, instead of feeling attacked, I feel assisted. Instead of playing the role of an employee worried that the bosses might not be happy, I'm a leader soliciting candid advice. The difference is significant.

I consider this so important that I've never forced a formal evaluation on staff members. While we do have job descriptions and annual reviews, they fall far short of the no-holds-barred evaluation I'm talking about–covering both professional and personal life. Since they will benefit most from a review when they feel least threatened, I let them pick the participants, the process, and the areas of focus–even whether to have a review.

CHOOSING THE RIGHT TIME

I avoid intense reviews during times of great stress or when I'm struggling with feelings of failure. It would be counterproductive to ask people, even those I trust, to put my ministry and life under a microscope at such times. I already have enough stuff to work on. The last thing I need is more blind spots exposed.

My first two years at this church were difficult. My style of leadership differed considerably from my predecessor's; I made several crucial mistakes; and the church board was poorly equipped to deal with the changes. The result was that old families seemed to leave as fast as new ones came in. Make that a little faster. The congregation felt in constant turnover.

I felt I was failing miserably. Most of my peers would have agreed. I didn't need anyone to point out new areas requiring my attention. Based on the problems I could see and the informal feedback I was getting, I had plenty of things to work on. At that point, a formal review and airing of problems would have pushed me over the edge. I would have given up and tried another career.

Only when the church had begun to turn around did I ask for one.

That is not to say I don't seek feedback during difficult times. I get all I can. But I don't ask for a thorough critique of my life and ministry when I'm standing on the brink. Why invite someone to push me over?

One pastor I know built a small rural church into one of the most effective churches in his denomination. For twenty-four years he enjoyed a successful ministry. Then, during a time of personal discouragement, his board chose to review his administrative skills and conflict management style. The board members were less than complimentary, though they loved him and would have overlooked his weaknesses for another twenty-four years.

But given his precarious emotional state at the time, he was devastated. Feeling unappreciated and angry, he resigned within two weeks. Both he and his board would have been better served if he had asked for a delay in the process. Since the board initiated the evaluation, however, he felt trapped. Still, a request for a delay would have been worth trying.

DON'T TAKE ANONYMOUS FEEDBACK

Many people assume that anonymity increases candor. I doubt it. One thing I know for sure: anonymous feedback undermines an effective review.

First, anonymous responses ignore a basic principle of evaluation: criticisms and compliments should be weighed, not counted.

A few years ago, one of our most strait-laced board members complained I was a bit too earthy. I shrugged it off. By his standards, I wanted to be a bit earthy. But when another person, a tough-skinned individual, pointed out how I had hurt his feelings, I set about immediately to correct my mistake and see that I wouldn't repeat it again.

The fact is, Dave will always want more of an evangelistic emphasis while Jim will want greater depth of biblical studies. Pete will think I am refreshingly candid; Don will label me as too blunt. Only by knowing who said what can I tell the significance of an observation.

Second, anonymity often fosters misunderstanding. By its nature, an anonymous response makes clarification and explanation impossible.

During one annual review, I received an evaluation that said I was a loner and unsupportive of others. I was shocked. That was one complaint I'd never heard; I couldn't figure it out. Fortunately, since the evaluations were signed, I was able to ask the individual what he meant. He told me he was concerned that I was not involved with, or supportive of, our denomination. No, he did not mean I isolated myself from or was unsupportive of the people of the church. He just wanted to see me more involved in the larger church family.

Not only was I able to understand what he meant, I was able to respond. I explained that I attended without fail a voluntary monthly meeting with our district superintendent. I also told him I was serving on a district ordination committee. Because I rarely spoke of these things, he had assumed I didn't support the denomination. But my explanations satisfied him, something that couldn't have happened with an anonymous critique.

Perhaps the most dangerous type of anonymous review–and also the most common–doesn't even require the pastor's presence. Several people simply evaluate the pastor's life or ministry and then send one person to communicate the results.

This approach makes clarification nearly impossible. It forces the pastor to rely on one person's interpretation not only of what was said, but what others really meant and felt. Worse, this scenario gives antagonists the opportunity to make unchallenged accusations. Usually, by the time these are cleared up, the pastor's reputation has already been seriously damaged.

I've become hard-nosed about anonymous advice or criticism. Unsigned letters and notes go into the trash–unread. If I can't get an honest answer without anonymity, I question my accuser's integrity. And if, on the other hand, people are so intimidated by me that they can't respond openly, I have bigger problems than any a pastoral review would be able to solve.

GET IT IN WRITING

Another pitfall I avoid is the unwritten or verbal review. I want people to write down their appraisals before they vocalize them. Why?

First, many find it difficult to express negative or critical opinions face to face. To ask for a candid verbal review is unfair to them; they simply can't give one. Yet many of these people have no problem when asked to put their thoughts on paper. Their answers tend to be more specific and straightforward. At the same time, I've never seen the more talkative people inhibited by being asked first for written responses. They simply jot a brief answer and expand on it when their turn to speak comes.

Second, written evaluations can't be altered by the consensus of the meeting. Verbal responses are easily swayed by the remarks of those who speak first or most persuasively.

My approach is to ask each participant in my review to write down personal observations (sometimes before the meeting). I can collect the papers and read them myself or have each person read his or her comments to the group.

Only after all the statements are on the table do we discuss them. This way, I'm exposed to people's original thoughts and feelings. And the more articulate individuals have a harder time dominating the group.

CHANGE EVALUATION TOOLS

Only once have I used the same evaluation tool two years in a row. The first time I used it, things went so well that it seemed logical to repeat it. I discovered, though, that evaluation questions, no matter how good and insightful, too easily become routine. What prompted helpful analysis the first year produced short, superficial answers the second.

"Why do we need to keep harping on this stuff?" one man asked. So I now change the tool frequently.

Still, using the same evaluation tool a second time does have one advantage: it allows growth to be measured from one year to the next. But different methods usually have enough overlap to give me a good idea of how I'm progressing.

Also, by using a variety of questionnaires, I've been able to get feedback in many areas. Last year's review focused on my life in general. The year before we zeroed in on ministry skills. Others have focused on my leadership style or spiritual walk. By looking at myself from these various perspectives, I've been able to get a more accurate reading of my strengths and weaknesses.

Evaluation tools come from a variety of places. I've found some in books, such as Gene Getz's "The Measure of a Man." Others were found in back issues of LEADERSHIP or adapted from professional and devotional magazines. Still others have come via friends in other denominational settings. The "Tests and Measurements" section of a local library offers a gold mine of instruments for psychological or management evaluation.

KEEP SALARY SEPARATE

It's important to distinguish between a pastoral review and a salary review. Not that a salary shouldn't be linked to performance (scriptural passages like 1 Timothy 5:17-18 suggest they're related). But I tend to be less open to personal growth during a review laden with monetary concerns.

Frankly, if the results of my review are going to affect my salary, I won't be too eager to hear about areas in which I need improvement.

I prefer to schedule my annual review after our budget already has been set. As I see it, a pastoral review and a salary review have two different purposes. One is to determine a fair compensation for my responsibilities, skills, and experience. The other determines my personal agenda and helps me discover what I do well and what I need to work on.

FAITHFUL WOUNDS

At my first review at North Coast, while I heard plenty of praise, I also encountered some harsh criticisms. In particular, we discussed my insensitivity to people who see things differently than I do. I also discovered I wasn't delegating nearly as effectively as I assumed.

Later that night, our board chairman called. He sounded worried. "Are you doing okay, Larry?" he asked. "I was afraid you might have been crushed by some of the things we said."

Actually, I'd rushed home to tell my wife what a fantastic meeting it had been: my board had been open with me, and I had learned a great deal about myself and my ministry.

What our chairman had not recognized was that, in the controlled environment of my pastoral review, I had not been unfairly criticized by antagonists. Instead, I had received the faithful wounds of friends. And there is no comparison between the two.

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Larry Osborne is pastor of North Coast (Evangelical Free) Church in Vista, California.