Institutional Risks

That which is necessary is never a risk.
Cardinal de Retz1

Institutional decisions risk the health of the organization. They may involve finances, facilities, or personnel, but their common denominator is that if ignored, the institution will fragment, go bankrupt, suffer serious decline, or fail to realize its full potential.

Perhaps the toughest of these decisions is related to personnel, particularly when a staff member must be fired. There’s risk in letting someone go. Drexel Rankin, minister of Carmel (Indiana) Christian Church, remembers firing an organist: “He possessed remarkable talent, but he was undependable. Occasionally he would show up fifteen minutes late for Sunday morning worship; I would already have winged a prelude and played the first hymn when he would walk in. After he did that the third time, I told him, ‘Don’t ever do that again. If you do, don’t bother coming!’

“Then at the Easter sunrise service, he didn’t show at all. No word from him. I tried calling him at home but got no answer. I found out a couple of days later that he had been at the hospital. He had evidently hurt a finger and gone to the emergency room, but he didn’t bother to call anybody. He just skipped the service.

“I was angry. I told the moderator of our church council I was firing the organist. The moderator liked the organist and didn’t want him to be fired, so he took it to the church council, questioning my judgment in firing the organist. I was in the frying pan that night. But I believed in what I was doing. I told the council the whole story, how angry I was, and that I was sticking by my decision. It went down hard, but they finally agreed.

“Afterwards, I realized I should have brought the decision to the council first, and should have dealt with the organist after my anger had cooled. I learned my lesson. It was good I did, because a couple of years later I faced the same situation with our choir director.

“She also had talent galore. She was a fine person, and everyone loved her, but she was disorganized, undependable, and frequently late. I’d sit down with her and say, ‘What’s going on? Why are you showing up late to rehearsal? Can I help you work this out?’

“But our discussions didn’t seem to help. She began to talk about resigning. Morale began to suffer. After she missed three staff meetings in a row, I knew I had to act. I managed to get her to come to the office. She said she could stay only five minutes: ‘We’re not going to be able to talk until late next week. I just haven’t got the time.’

“I said, ‘Diane, that’s not acceptable.’

“She said again, ‘Well, I’ve been thinking about resigning anyway.’

“At that point she had said it once too often, and I said, ‘I think you ought to write it out and lay it on my desk Sunday.’ That was a far healthier situation than my firing her. Positive resolutions can sometimes be arrived at if you show patience and use confrontation skills. Even better is learning to rely on the church council for guidance in sticky personnel matters.”

Not every institutional crisis is a personnel problem. It may be a financial mutiny by members who withhold their tithe as a means of forcing their will on the rest of the body. It may be trying to reconcile your church’s interests with those of the denomination. Sometimes it is the agonizing decision about whether to build a new building.

The first step in identifying an institutional problem is to make sure it is not theological (see the questions suggested in the previous chapter). Then ask the following:

1. If left unattended, will this crisis damage the organizational viability of our church?

2. Are the theological or personal issues raised really germane to the discussion? Or are they red herrings, distracting from the institutional issue?

3. Am I, as pastor or church leader, the cause of the conflict? If I were not here, would there still be a conflict? (This identifies whether the situation is interpersonal or personal rather than institutional).

The Principle: The Law of the Good of the Many

Institutional decisions differ from theological ones in that democratic rather than theocratic principles apply.

Church institutions provide the venue for the proclamation of the gospel. They are the context for discipleship, the staging area for evangelization. The church structure does not do the proclaiming, discipling, or evangelizing, but it allows these important purposes to be fulfilled.

The structure, then, does not have the enduring value that theological truth has. It is temporary and utilitarian. If the structure fails to meet the spiritual needs of the people, it fails its purpose and must be changed. For example, if people in a particular cultural setting can meet together only in the evenings, then the church should hold services in the evening.

Thus, many legitimate church structures are possible. When you make effective presentation of Christian principles the goal, flexibility becomes essential. The institutional church is the horse upon which the rider bound for glory rides. It needs to be a strong horse, but whether it’s a palomino or a black stallion makes little difference; it may even take a relay of horses to get there.

Albert Schweitzer took on the almost-impossible task of establishing a modern hospital in a remote part of Africa. His eventual success was due in large measure to his willingness to be flexible. Hospitals are infamous for inflexible rules, yet Dr. Schweitzer broke almost all the Western taboos in order to meet the special needs of interior Africa. The result: a hospital that worked, without sacrificing any essential medical principles.

One of his biographers, George Marshall, notes: “The Schweitzer Hospital is unlike any other in the United States or Europe. Growing out of the flexible working philosophy of Dr. Schweitzer as he blended his knowledge of medical needs with the culture of the African, it is also unique among African hospitals.… The justification of the unique Schweitzer Hospital, plain and simple, is that it has worked.”2

In deciding an institutional issue, then, the pastor tries to determine which alternative will serve the largest number of people. That is, what will allow 100 percent of the congregation to worship and serve God most effectively? In difficult situations, of course, 100-percent solutions may be impossible. Many decisions will satisfy only 90 percent; some only 60 or 70 percent. Truly agonizing decisions arise occasionally when the congregation is split evenly.

Institutional decisions can often be no-win situations. Our research showed little correlation between making or not making these decisions and staying or leaving (see Chart 3). Ministries may be forfeited either way. These are the truly selfless decisions, done for the good of the body, though recognition may not come for years, if ever.

One pastor remembered such a situation: “The board chairman and the financial secretary constituted the power structure of this Congregational church. By the middle of my second year, I realized change was needed for the congregation to survive. These two men fought any action by members or by me. For example, the board chairman questioned my purchasing power. He said I could buy only one thing in the next year, a new typewriter. I called his threatening bluff by stating the procedure called for in the church constitution — presenting written requests to the entire board. I then asked the board to clarify the procedure. This made him my enemy. Soon thereafter he presented a detailed list of my shortcomings. From then on, everything was a battle. I fought it over the next year and a half and “won” — the two leaders left the church. Eventually, though, I, too, left because the church needed healing after this protracted battle.”

Of course, not all such decisions lead to the pastor leaving the church. One survey respondent noted, “Two couples started a home Bible study without church sanction. People from our church were invited as if it were church sanctioned. We had three problems with this. First, new church activities had to be approved by the board. For a Bible study, approval is usually automatic, but the procedure keeps us aware of small-group interaction. Second, it was organized to replace an existing program. Third, there was no control over the doctrinal teachings, and in this case, there was reason to be wary. The board asked the couple to stop the study. They continued, saying it was none of our business. So we spelled out the board’s disapproval for those attending. Some left the church with the two couples, but the church as a whole has increased in unity.”

The Motivation: Commitment

Whereas the proper pastoral approach to a theological problem was obedience, the proper approach to an institutional problem is commitment. A pastor and congregation must be committed to their church for it to continue functioning.

This commitment has three dimensions:

— willingness to remain despite inducements to leave

— acceptance of the structure’s norms, values, and beliefs

— action to achieve common goals.3

In many ways, commitment to the church is no less intense than obedience to Scripture. The institutional church is the vehicle through which the gospel is proclaimed. Just as we maintain the health of our vocal chords so we can speak and we service our automobiles so they can provide transportation, we maintain the structure and harmony of our churches so they can speak and embody the gospel. Indeed, in the eyes of the world, a pastor’s commitment to the institutional church is every bit as odd, perhaps, as obedience to the Word.

Commitment, however, can lead to extremes. G. Gordon Liddy, the Watergate burglar, for example, confused commitment to a government with a devotion that should be shown only toward an absolute moral principle of God. Apathy, on the other hand, will ruin a religious institution.

Applying the principle of commitment properly means avoiding either extreme. When a pastor considers an institutional question, he or she must be willing to perform the hated, suspect act: compromise. Making an organization work in a fallen world means we must find the middle way between expecting a perfect City of God and settling for an earthly enterprise judged only by standards of money and members. It is often difficult for a theologically trained pastor to realize that compromise in institutional matters is appropriate and necessary.

In a recent interview Henry Kissinger was asked, “Why were you such a successful diplomat?”

“I think,” said Kissinger, “it’s because through my experience and study of world history, I realized that notions of clear-cut victory or unconditional surrender were illusory. The best settlement has no absolute victor or absolute loser. In world affairs the shortest distance between two points is often a labyrinth.”

Such is the spirit a church leader must adopt in considering institutional risks.

Dangers

Just as applying the principle of obedience to every church decision leads to problems (outlined in the last chapter), so using the principle of commitment for situations other than institutional ones compounds their difficulty.

It is perhaps easiest to confuse an institutional problem with a theological one and ask for obedience when commitment is necessary. For example, when a leader claims, “God told me to build this building,” he has masked an institutional matter — will a new building help our church be more effective, and can we afford it? — as a theological issue. Instead of asking people to commit themselves to the hard work of determining building needs and projecting income, he demands their obedience by divine fiat.

Why does this type of confusion occur? Partly because there is a relationship between theology and the institution. Good theology undergirds all decisions in a church, whether institutional, interpersonal, or personal. Good theology increases the chances that a church will be a good institution. In an intriguing study reported in the Review of Religious Research in 1977, Doyle Johnson investigated the relationship between commitment to the church and the acting out of justice in the community. He found those persons most likely to be racially tolerant and working for social good in the community were also the most involved and committed to the institutional church.4

Problems arise, however, when institutional decisions that call for a pragmatic answer are “solved” by demanding obedience. Demand obedience to a church leader on institutional matters, and cultic devotion usually results. Call for obedience to a group or institution, and chauvinism results. In institutional matters, discussion and give-and-take are needed, not unquestioning obedience.

In many ways, obedience is easier to give than commitment. What passes for obedience in the cases of cultism and chauvinism is often mindless escapism, the tired, panicstricken obeisance of people unwilling to work out the complex problems of making an institution effective. Let’s let our leaders worry about this; we’ll do whatever they say, seems to be the attitude.

Commitment, on the other hand, calls for wrestling with the tensions between the sacred and the profane, for doing deeds that defy the ethos of the age, and for persisting in the face of imperfect people and imperfect laws. At every stage we are tempted to throw it all over and say, What’s the use? Commitment is a muscular word, a sinewy perseverance that calls for hard decisions and a willingness to take responsibility for making a church work. It expects high ideals yet relaxes about the inevitable slippages and restarts characteristic of a fallen world.

Institutional problems can also be confused with interpersonal problems. When that happens, a leader calls for forgiveness when commitment is needed. Take, for example, two elders fighting over whether a church should start a day school. Two church members are in conflict; it appears to be an interpersonal problem. But what is really at stake is an institutional matter — will a day school help this church serve its members and community more effectively? In this case, a pastor’s primary task is to keep the parties discussing the difficult institutional decision until they reach resolution. The pastor’s attitude must be “Let’s commit ourselves to working this out.”

But when the conflict becomes painful, it’s tempting to give up and call for forgiveness: “This fight has been going on too long. Let’s just let it drop. Jim and Larry, you both need to forgive each other.” But spreading the balm of forgiveness without resolving the underlying institutional conflict heals nothing. It is like trying to cure a broken arm with petroleum jelly.

If a pastor confuses an institutional risk with an interpersonal one, the institution is weakened. There are times when a church does not need more forgiveness, or rhetoric about loving and caring, but simply a dogged, persistent attention to structure.

Dean Kelly in his book, Why Conservative Churches Are Growing, argues that liberal churches lack “strictness,” while conservative churches exercise discipline more and take religion more seriously.5 The result is stronger institutions, because conservatives are willing to weed out nonfunctioning members by applying the rule of the good of the many. They’re willing to examine organizational and structural problems instead of ignoring them under the guise of pseudo-forgiveness.

Conclusion

Commitment balances between obedience to theological principle and humble forgiveness of one another. Perhaps this can best be illustrated by an example in church history. The story’s hero is Cyprian, a wealthy, well-educated citizen of Carthage who became a powerful bishop in the early church because of his great administrative skills.

In A.D. 250, the church emerged from a period of intense persecution. Many Christians had apostatized — under threat of torture, sworn allegiance to the Roman emperor instead of God. When the persecution ended, many of the apostates wanted to rejoin the church. Theologians of the day took three different positions on whether that should be allowed.

At one extreme stood Cornelius. During the persecution, Cornelius had personally maintained his faith despite torture and great hardship. However, he wanted to apply blanket forgiveness to any apostates who asked to be restored.

At the other extreme stood Novatian, who felt that anyone who fell away had committed the unpardonable sin of blaspheming the Holy Spirit. Novatian considered the problem purely theological, with the law of right or wrong fully applicable.

Cyprian took a middle position. If the apostates wanted to come back, they should be allowed. But they should be required to go through certain disciplines in order to reestablish membership. Cyprian didn’t deny the theological and interpersonal elements to the question, but he saw it primarily as an institutional issue — the integrity of church membership, the lifeblood of institutional harmony, was at stake. Apostasy couldn’t be condoned by easy forgiveness; otherwise, why should anyone remain faithful under persecution? Yet those who wanted to return needed to be reincorporated.6

Cyprian faced one of the early church’s first confrontations with what it meant for the church to be both a structured organization as well as a spiritual organism. In institutional matters, his decision is still a worthy model.

Cardinal de Retz, Memoires (New York: French and European Publishers, n.d.).

George Marshall and David Poling, Schweitzer: A Biography (New York: Albert Schweitzer Fellowship, 1975), 252.

Charles Coleman, William Toomey, and Richard Woodland, “Cognition, Belief, and Behavior: A Study of Commitment to a Religious Institution,” Religious Education (November/December 1975): 677.

Doyle Johnson, “Religious Commitment, Social Distance, and Authoritarianism,” Review of Religious Research (Winter 1977): 99-112.

Dean M. Kelly, Why Conservative Churches Are Growing (New York: Harper & Row, 1977).

See Bruce Shelley, Church History in Plain Language (Waco, Texas: Word, 1982), 90-92.