The principles of limiting conflict while leading change are timeless. That is evident in this Leadership classic, originally published in 1987. Its author, Larry Osborne, pastor of North Coast Church in Vista, California, recently said, “Innovative and change-oriented people get as locked into their traditions and methods as anyone else. That’s why the approach that worked with the traditionalist of yesterday is still effective today. Yesterday’s rebels have become today’s traditionalists.” We reprint the following for your work with yesterday’s rebels.
An old farmer once said, “Go slow. Churches are a lot like horses. They don’t like to be startled or surprised. It causes deviant behavior.”
The fiercest battles are seldom fought over theology. More often, they are fought over change, sometimes even the slightest change.
I remember well a phone call I received from a key lay leader, not long after my arrival at North Coast. He said his family was leaving the church, upset over all the changes I was making.
When I asked for specifics, I found I had committed two unpardonable sins: I had failed to schedule a third annual “All-Church New Year’s Eve Party,” and I had stopped using a closing hymn in our services.
I hadn’t thought of either change as significant. They both happened more by accident than design. But for some reason, they startled and surprised my caller. His “deviant behavior” was just what the old farmer had predicted.
There was a time when such petty and negative responses to change left me feeling angry and cynical. But after studying organizational culture, I came to realize Christians aren’t the only ones who respond negatively to change. It is a phenomenon found among all groups; it’s more of a sociological problem than a spiritual problem.
Rather then view resisters as enemies to be overcome, I prefer to see them as advisers.
Over the years, I’ve used a process that has served me well. Whether the change affected only a few people or an entire congregation, these steps have smoothed the way for change and significantly decreased the instances of deviant behavior.
Test the waters
The first thing I do with a new idea is try to find out how people will react should the change take place.
Our government leaders are masters at this. Long before making a major proposal, they leak a rough sketch of their idea or proposed legislation. Then they stand back and analyze the evening news reports and the response of their constituents.
Was the idea vehemently rejected? Or widely praised? Which points did opponents attack? Which criticisms were legitimate, and which were obviously partisan? And most important, what changes are needed before making the proposal official?
Following the same course, I start by asking a cross section of our people—board members, unofficial power brokers, and the average man or woman in the pew—what they think of an idea or possible change. For instance, I might ask their opinions on moving across town, adding a new staff member, or changing the church logo. Whether the change is major or insignificant, I try to get a reading on their reactions.
I’ve found it’s best to ask in small social settings. Larger groups tend to silence introverts and inhibit candor, while formal settings or full-blown presentations cause most people to assume I’m asking for their approval rather than their opinion.
At this stage, I don’t want approval or disapproval. I’m not trying to gather a coalition for the idea. All I want is a reading on their initial reactions to the basic idea.
Testing the waters provides me with invaluable information. First, it lets me know if my dissatisfaction with the status quo is shared by others. If not, it’s time for me to slow down and help other people to see the need—or be prepared to face deviant behavior.
Second, testing the waters tells me what changes not to make. For instance, when our church was founded, it was named for the city in which we met. When we moved to a nearby city, everyone agreed the name needed to be changed.
A number of us also wanted to drop the denominational tag, replacing it with a postscript stating our affiliation. We felt the tag was more of a hindrance than an asset, since most people on the West Coast have no idea what Evangelical Free Church represents. I’m often asked if we are a cult, a new religion, Pentecostals, or fundamentalists, or if we simply don’t take offerings!
Most people seemed to like dropping the denominational label. But testing the waters revealed strong opposition by a couple of key lay leaders, enough to create a major conflict.
I decided to drop the issue. A test of the waters had shown me the price I would have to pay for the change. It was a price I was unwilling to pay. [Editor’s note: the denomination tag has since been dropped.]
Finally, testing the waters tells me what aspects of a proposed change will cause the most resistance and who the resisters are most likely to be. It prepares me for the next step in the process.
Listen and respond to resisters
People who resist our ideas are sometimes labeled adversaries. That label is usually a case of mistaken identity.
Rather than view them as enemies to be overcome, I prefer to see them as advisers. They are, in fact, a necessary link in the process of transforming a good idea into a great idea. Their resistance is useful. Like pain in the body, it lets me know something is out of adjustment.
I learn two things by listening to resisters. First, I learn where change is most likely to go wrong. Resisters have an uncanny ability to point out flaws within a proposal. After all, these people are motivated! But by listening to them, I discover the obstacles ahead of time, and thus I can make the change much less traumatic for everyone.
When we decided years ago to make home fellowships the axis of our ministry, we were launching into what was, for us, relatively uncharted waters. Though it was an excellent and workable concept, there were many bugs to be worked out. The resisters found them immediately. Because they didn’t like the plan in the first place, they were quick to point out a host of potential hazards.
They feared being stuck in geographical groupings where they would share little in common except neighborhood. They worried about studies that would be nothing but a sharing of ignorance, fretted over sharing exercises that were too threatening, and rebelled against the idea of highly restrictive group covenants or contracts. In short, they set an agenda of things for us to work on.
Our responding to their concerns didn’t necessarily win their approval. But we did put together a more acceptable program that avoided many potential shortcomings.
Second, I learn what hidden psychological barriers must be overcome. Just because a change or innovation is a good idea is no guarantee that people will buy it.
For instance, when microwave ovens came out, their sales were limited because people weren’t using them to cook meat. The problem wasn’t technological; it was psychological. Most people considered meat inadequately cooked if it lacked the familiar brown color on the outside. By listening to the resisters (those who weren’t buying the new ovens), the manufacturers were able to identify and remove this psychological barrier. They put browning elements in the ovens. Bingo! Sales increased dramatically.
While some pastors resist the role of salesperson, I have accepted it as a necessary part of being a leader. And like any good leader, I want to know what areas of resistance are most likely to arise so I can tailor my presentation to address and overcome them. If I am convinced God wants a change made, or that a new program will bring great spiritual benefit to our people, then I have no qualms about trying to sell the idea. If some “browning elements” are needed, so be it.
While some pastors resist the role of salesperson, I have accepted it as a necessary part of my job as a leader.
To figure out where those psychological barriers are, I ask myself two questions.
1. Are the resisters objecting to the proposal or the presenter? Pious-sounding objections can be used to cover up the real source of resistance: lack of trust in the one making the proposal. A newly arrived pastor often faces this, particularly when the church has a history of short pastorates. Pastors feuding with their boards or a particular member are also likely to find that the resistance centers more on them than on the proposal itself. When this happens, to discuss the issues is a waste of time. Instead, the focus needs to be on building trust, restoring the broken relationships, or finding someone else to champion the idea.
2. Are the resisters objecting to the proposal or to the way it was presented? The most common presentation problem is the use of offensive language—not swear words, but loaded terms and phrases that carry a negative connotation to the listeners.
While an assistant pastor, I suggested an internship program to disciple those planning to go into full-time ministry. Since our church was near a seminary and a couple of Christian schools, I figured the idea would go over big. It didn’t. The board rejected it without discussion.
When I sought to understand the reasons for their resistance, I discovered my predecessor had been fired for focusing his ministry on a small group of “disciples” at the expense of everyone else. As a result, words like intern and discipleship conjured up images of favoritism. By using these terms in my proposal, I had unwittingly torpedoed my idea. The board wasn’t against training people for future ministry; they opposed the abuses of the past.
I reframed the proposal as a Vocational Ministry Training Program, spelled out some time limitations, and left the rest of the program virtually untouched. Within a month, I had not only my program (by unanimous consent) but twice the funding I’d requested.
Listening and responding to resistance always pays high dividends. While I don’t give every critic veto power over potential changes, I do assume my critics are for the most part honest and intelligent people who are concerned with different issues and problems. By carefully listening to their objections, I invariably end up with a much better idea.
Yet this by itself doesn’t guarantee congregational acceptance. I still need to build a solid support base, well before presenting the idea to the entire group. If not, the group’s natural organizational resistance will sabotage the changes.
Sell individuals before groups
One of the most basic yet often-ignored rules of group persuasion is to sell individuals before groups. A painful illustration of what happens when this principle is ignored involved a long-range-planning committee.
After the committee worked nearly two years, a congregational meeting was held to review their proposals. The presentation was beautifully done; their proposals were excellent. But the congregation rejected their plans outright. The pastor and committee members were devastated. They had assumed a clear presentation of an excellent idea would result in congregational approval.
Sadly, the fatal blow to their program was self-inflicted. By presenting the proposal to the entire church first, they forced people to go public with their initial reactions. This practically guaranteed rejection, for two reasons: First, initial responses to change are often negative. Second, public responses are usually permanent.
When an idea is presented to an entire group, everyone’s opinions become a matter of public record, and public stands are hard to change. While people often talk themselves into an idea they initially rejected, they seldom do so after they’ve gone public with their opinions. Selling an idea to individuals before presenting it to the entire group makes it easier for people to change their minds.
Another reason for first selling individuals is that most people won’t adopt a new idea until they see others have bought in. Those who study the process of change inform us that only about 15 percent will adopt a new idea without first knowing who else is supporting it.
I need to sell enough individuals to give an idea credibility before I attempt to sell it to the entire group.
The long-range-planning committee assumed the only question being asked was, “Is this a good idea?” They failed to realize that most people also wanted to know, “Who else is for it?” Since they couldn’t point to anyone but themselves, the idea was considered suspect. Selling some individuals before the meeting would have given the idea credibility.
While adapting a change and gathering a coalition of supporters go a long way toward removing unnecessary obstacles, they don’t remove them all. In reality, some people will be against every change—the sort of folks who would vote against the Second Coming if given a chance. Faced with their opposition, I move into the last phase of the change process.
Lead boldly
By leading boldly, I don’t mean running roughshod over those who disagree with me. I do mean stepping forward to champion a cause: clearly making my views known and doing everything I can to persuade the holdouts to follow.
For many of us, this type of leadership doesn’t come easily. It runs counter to our image of pastor as gentle shepherd. It forces people to act or react. At times, it can mean offending a dear saint or a longtime supporter, or losing a key family.
Yet bold leadership is needed, or inertia will restrain necessary changes. Fear of upsetting a few can allow a handful of critics to hold off an army of supporters. The resulting ministry resembles a bus with one accelerator and sixty brakes.
Just how bold to be depends on the answers to several questions:
Is this God’s will? The clearer I sense his leading, the bolder I am willing to be. But few change issues are black and white. I can think of only a few times in my ministry when I’ve pulled out the heavy artillery and publicly stated, “I feel God wants us to do this.”
What is the price? The price is what I will pay for boldly championing the cause. Determining that is the purpose of testing the waters. If the change is overpriced, bold leadership isn’t a sign of valor; it’s a sign of stupidity.
Whom will we lose? Notice I don’t ask if we will lose some people, but which ones. No ministry can keep everybody happy. Losing some folks to the church down the street is unavoidable. The only question is: Who will they be?
When we made a commitment to a contemporary style of worship music, that didn’t sit well with a few of our old-timers. But prior to the change, we were losing a lot of visitors who didn’t relate to the traditional style. We weren’t keeping the new Christians and non-Christians we were targeting.
I decided I didn’t want to keep losing the people we were losing. So I championed the change, and sure enough, we lost a few families. But each time one family left, they were replaced by three or four new ones who were looking for what we now had.
How long do I plan to be around? If I don’t think I’ll be long at the church, I don’t make the sort of changes that demand bold leadership.
A friend accepted a call to a small, struggling, suburban church a few years ago. While the church had potential, it wasn’t going to go anywhere without some major changes. He began to make those: he altered the structure of the service, changed the constitution, and adapted the facility. Though difficult, and costly in the loss of a few families, the changes allowed the church to finally begin to grow.
The only problem was that he didn’t stay long enough to firmly establish the changes. Not long after they were made, he left. When he returned to visit two years later, he was surprised to find most of his changes had been reversed. The service, atmosphere, and low attendance were strikingly similar to what he had encountered when he first came.
Leading boldly requires staying. Why put a body into the disequilibrium that comes with change if we aren’t going to be around to help steady it? Why risk driving away some key old-timers if we aren’t going to remain to help the new folks gain a sense of ownership?
Our church has taken a new name, moved to a different location, shifted its program emphasis, changed its board structure, and altered its worship style. Yet these changes have been accomplished largely without conflicts and deviant behavior.
I remember when we went so far as to replace our Sunday evening service with home Bible studies. Not long after we dropped the evening service, a young father came to me.
“I grew up in a church where every change was a major battle,” he said. “So when I heard what you were proposing, I was afraid of what could happen. But I watched, and nothing did. There was no wrangling. I still can’t believe how easily people accepted the change.”
Sure it was easy. At least, I’m glad he saw it that way.
Larry W. Osborne is pastor of North Coast Church in Vista, California
1998 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or contact us.
