Following a Beloved Predecessor

God’s call to leadership is not a call to privilege and displays of power but a call to servanthood and humility.
—Lem Tucker

One afternoon in 1981, John Perkins, founder and president of Voice of Calvary, called my wife and me over to his home. I had some idea of what he might say. The last few years, John had made several overtures about resigning but hadn’t carried through.

This time, however, it was different.

“Lem,” he began, “I’m going to resign, and I want you to think about becoming president of Voice of Calvary.”

Eleanor and I were poles apart in our reactions. She was scared, and I was excited. I was sure this was a chance to take a significant, nationally recognized community development ministry into the promised land. I was ready to fly; I had no intention of putting on the brakes. It took me only half a day to decide.

Eleanor, however, saw nothing but loose ends, problems, and entanglements. She figured I was buying a $100 ticket on the Titanic for $5 and boasting about the great deal I’d gotten.

As Eleanor and I talked and prayed, I tried to calm her misgivings. In my naiveté, I didn’t think her concerns were that large. And in the end, Eleanor agreed to support me in the move.

Looking back, I realize there was no real contemplation. And even more important, I didn’t consult any mentor who could have warned me of what happens when you try to fill the shoes of a beloved predecessor, not to mention trying to fill everyone else’s expectations.

Not every leader, of course, has gone through the trial of transition yet. Chances are, however, that before your ministry is through, you will go through at least one. I offer the lessons I’ve learned in hopes that they might help you through some rough days.

Taking the heat

Whenever you follow a strong leader, you sometimes find yourself in a no-win situation. On virtually any major decision, if you choose one direction, people will accuse you of being the founder’s puppet. If you opt the other way, you can be accused of being disloyal to the dream.

Right before I became president, a highly controversial firing took place. I didn’t realize when I accepted the presidency how the fallout from that firing would affect me.

I was out of town when the firing took place. As Voice of Calvary’s executive director, I was the one who usually handled hiring and firing. When I returned, a number of staff members came to me and said, “Lem, you’ve got to tell John to hire this person back.”

As executive director, I was committed to carrying out the directives of the founder. I wasn’t going to undermine his leadership by bucking him publicly.

When I became president, the pressure to reinstate this person continued. But again, I didn’t feel it was appropriate to countermand John’s decision. Even today, I still run into people who refer to that incident and say, “You’re not a very compassionate leader. That person was run over by a freight train, and you could have helped, but you didn’t.”

In retrospect, I’ll admit I was scared. I don’t know whether I was afraid of losing my job or of failing in John’s eyes. Perhaps I should have taken a stand. But I felt my responsibility was to continue the direction we were going. I was tempted to demonstrate my independence by reversing the previous decision but knew that was not appropriate. No decision I could have made would have been popular. My wife and I definitely felt the heat.

This incident and others that quickly arose made me realize I’d overlooked a simple biblical mandate when I accepted the new responsibilities: I hadn’t counted the cost. This is not to say I would have rejected the position had I fully counted it. I’m still glad I made the decision. But looking back, I see I could have spared my wife and myself a lot of emotional and spiritual anguish had I thought things through a little longer.

I wish now I’d made an honest and unabridged list of all the organizational snags and loose ends I’d be facing. Eleanor and I would have been better prepared mentally for the tensions, for instance, had we noted from the beginning even such minor things as these: though John would hold no official position in the organization, as founder his name would always be identified with the ministry, often more prominently than any current leader’s; people inside and outside the organization would continue to invoke his name even when his opinion on an issue was unknown.

It pays to seek wise counsel before accepting such a position—and to take it seriously when you get it. Your spouse, other family members, or mature advisers may be able to bring you down from Mount Sinai for a while and give you a reality check. The first blush of enthusiasm can make you think you’ve been handed the chance to turn the world around for Jesus. Thank goodness for your spouse or your family, who know you’re good—but not that good.

The inevitable comparisons

Most of us won’t be as forceful or as charismatic as the previous leader. John Perkins was a hard act to follow. I consider him a prophet. I love and admire him. He forged a new vision for black leadership and a new understanding in the evangelical church of what it means to wed social action and social justice with biblical evangelism and discipleship.

His influence started locally and then spread nationally and internationally. His vision of a racially reconciled biblical community has gained adherents throughout the world. Under his leadership, Voice of Calvary became an international study center for Christian community development. Its influence has spread to interracial communities in Australia and South Africa.

How do you follow an act like that? At first, I became so tired of hearing that I was not enough of a “people person,” that I needed to maintain a “higher profile.” After overhearing comments like “Lem just doesn’t have the same vision” or “I don’t know if Lem is going to catch on,” my doubts multiplied.

During this time, Genesis 4 became to me the most important passage of Scripture: The Lord comes to Cain, the less favored, and says, “Why has your countenance fallen? [Why are you depressed?] If you do well, will not your countenance be lifted up? And if you do not do well, sin is crouching at the door; and its desire is [to master] you, but you must master it” (vv.6-7 nasb).

That passage taught me a great lesson during those dark days: Despite the temptations and the circumstances, I needed to be willing to put one foot in front of the other. God’s warnings to Cain, and Cain’s failure, were profitable warnings to me to take care not to stumble.

In the end, Cain wound up lashing out and destroying his brother. The temptation to lash out was sin crouching at my door during my dark days. I didn’t want that. Once a leader begins lashing out, it is easier to do it again and again. It’s a sure way to failure.

I have great empathy now for the person who said, “Many times, taking just one more step is all anyone can do.” As a leader, you can’t always see what’s down the road. You might not want to know. Getting through the transitions and the comparisons and the accompanying depression is, most of the time, simply the result of taking one step at a time and doing what needs to be done.

But we’ll still have to weather the (sometimes hurtful) comparisons.

The urge to purge

During the first few months after John’s departure, several staff members made unilateral decisions without consulting me. These were decisions I knew they would definitely have run by John. I felt, rightly or wrongly, that they perceived me as untrustworthy.

I felt like retaliating, to purge the organization of those who weren’t eager to follow my direction.

But I’m glad now that I didn’t. If you retaliate, you may miss a teaching moment: God may want me to love that hostile person through his or her frustration. I coined a saying that helped me get through those days: “He who has the greatest truth must have the greatest love, which is the greatest proof.” Anyone who thinks his truth is the higher truth can neither retaliate nor retreat from that truth if he hopes to have any credentials. Had I used my office to retaliate, I would have belied the very truth I asked others to accept.

The leader who follows a strong predecessor will inevitably have to deal with being misunderstood. Reactions will always be mixed.

I may have felt this more intensely than other new leaders because Voice of Calvary is not simply a place where people leave their work at the office. It’s a close community consisting of a ministry, a church, and house groups that meet regularly: the people you work with are also the people with whom you live and worship. Personal problems often have more serious ramifications.

I had days when I wished I worked for IBM or any other corporation but Voice of Calvary. At IBM, I imagined, if some employees felt I had done them wrong, they could complain to their family members and sit around and get mad together. They could complain as loudly as they wanted. But their frustration would not rip the very fabric of IBM.

But at Voice of Calvary (and in most churches), there are many overlapping reference points. Problems beget problems; they create a ripple effect in our tight community of work, play, and fellowship. Among a close community, no decision is ever won “hands down.”

I had to remind myself that when you follow a beloved leader, almost everyone, at least initially, is involved in the ministry because of that leader. People naturally feel continued affection and loyalty.

I learned I needed to make no sudden moves, but instead to anticipate how the complex reactions would develop, in order to get my job done effectively.

Accepting your role

In every organization, there is a founder’s phase in which there is a lot of energy, excitement, and charisma. The focus is on the project initiation. If something is overlooked, it’s usually in the area of follow-through. The successor’s role is to contemplate the next steps and not begin projects unless there is some assurance they can be finished. When I finally understood this, it freed me to be a far more effective leader.

It took a while to accept the fact that my role as successor was different from John’s role as founder. Charisma will carry an organization only so far. After that, it takes a good manager and organizer to keep things running.

In many ways, a second-generation leader has a tougher job than the founder. It’s my responsibility to take a vision and apply my organizational skills to make it run smoothly. We’re always open to charges of stifling the dream because we put an organizational and structural framework around it. We’re often viewed as constricting. But that’s because we have the conflicting responsibilities of motivating the workers, tending the organizational machinery, and charting the new frontiers for growth.

Voice of Calvary’s effectiveness for the first generation came from applying the gospel in new ways to specific community needs. Its effectiveness for the second generation will come from staying in touch with changing needs, trying new ways of meeting them, and blending those with the best aspects of the first generation.

I’ve had to learn to make decisions based on both the past and the future—to rely on the wisdom of past leadership when it’s necessary but to be astute enough to know when the past won’t work anymore. Keeping or redefining the vision and scope of an organization is the great challenge of the new leader. Past glories will fade, and new styles of ministry will need to be put in place in order to move forward.

Spiritually and emotionally, I’ve found this role taxing. Fortunately, I’m a sustainer and a plodder, and I’m durable—three traits that have become perhaps my greatest assets.

Finding emotional support

Finally, I’ve learned you need to be prepared for an emotional roller coaster when you take over from a founder or a beloved leader. Not only do you suffer the inevitable misunderstandings and comparisons, but some people will, no doubt, leave.

I thank the Lord for my wife, Eleanor, who, despite her hectic and frenzied schedule as a television newscaster, continually gives me her love and concern. We’ve had times of challenge, but we’ve seen each other through.

In addition, one of the best moves I made was to get myself a bailout group. Some people call it a support group, but I like the term bailout much better because it more accurately describes one’s condition during a transition.

This is a group of people I’ve learned over the years can be trusted; when they see my weaknesses, they don’t use them against me. They don’t expect an explanation from me every time we get together; I don’t have to convince them of my side of the story. I can let them see my discouragement, and they won’t worry that the ministry is coming apart. They accept me as I am and can provide meaningful and honest encouragement.

For instance, occasionally I have to make a difficult decision about personnel. Someone’s job must be changed, even terminated. When that happens, coworkers normally murmur, divide into factions, and chew on whatever the rumor mill produces. I’ve often wished I could tell everyone all the factors that went into the decision, but in many cases, some of the information must remain private.

Especially at a time like that, I’ve appreciated my bailout group. They know the difference between agreement and loyalty. They don’t always agree with the decision I’ve made, but they’re willing to stick with me anyway. They’re “on my side” not because we always think alike but because we’ve walked enough paths together that they know my commitment and motivation, and they’re willing to give me the benefit of the doubt.

I don’t mind taking my share of the arrows that come a leader’s direction. But I also deeply appreciate the member of my bailout group who once told me, “Lem, I might have handled things differently, but it’s your job to make that decision. I’m with you. I’m convinced you’re the leader God has for us at this time.”

My bailout group has become a reference point that gives perspective when conflicts and obstacles can so easily preoccupy me.

I’ve also taken comfort in the thought that many times God’s means of keeping a ministry’s vision close to himself is to prevent the leaders from getting too self-assured. Sometimes, he gives them thorns in the flesh so that in weakness they can rejoice in the strength God has given. Other times, God may use a failure to prune back pride, or an uncertain future to encourage living by faith.

I’m becoming more and more convinced that God’s leader will never be allowed to get too comfortable. Something will always be coming undone; one more thing will be careening out of control. These things continually remind me that God’s call to leadership is not a call to privilege and displays of power but a call to servanthood and humility.