Controlling information is a process fraught with dangers, but it is vitally important to a ministry characterized by wisdom and integrity.
— Jack Hayford
When should a pastor keep a confidence, even at great personal cost to himself or his church?
Several years ago we entered into a purchase agreement to buy a church building and property that also happened to house a private school. The purchase agreement specified that we would assume operation of the school and pledge to keep it open for at least a year and a half, giving the faculty and administration ample time to relocate. We were hoping to begin a school ourselves at some future date, so the agreement appeared to work to everyone’s benefit.
The agreement stipulated that once we began making deposits to an escrow account, we were legally and financially in charge of the school’s operations. All was going smoothly when disaster struck.
Routine inspections that had accompanied the standard closing procedures revealed a significant amount of asbestos in the school building. The previous owners had known that some asbestos material existed but had no idea of the extent or severity of the problem.
Our church leadership faced a serious dilemma: If we kept our word and opened the school on schedule, as the purchase agreement specified, we would risk endangering the health, and possibly the lives, of school children. If we backed out, citing the potential for high-risk health hazards from the asbestos, we could throw the faculty out of work in mid-August and break our pledge. The projected expense of removing the hazardous material exceeded one million dollars. It looked like a lose-lose situation.
It was an agonizing decision, but we could not in good conscience open the building for a new school year and expose the children to this significant health danger. We decided to slow down the purchase of the school. With the start of school only a few weeks away, the faculty stood between a rock and a hard place. And so did we. To outsiders, it looked as if a good deal had gone bad because we were fickle and untrustworthy.
When our actions were relayed to the school faculty by representatives of the other church, for whatever reason, the asbestos problem was never mentioned. The teachers were simply told the hard realities: we were backing out of the agreement, and they were losing their jobs.
Soon I began receiving scathing letters from disaffected (and unemployed) faculty members. Their correspondence reflected a mixture of confusion and astonishment. Why would a church such as ours, with a reputation for honesty and integrity, suddenly break our word and eliminate their jobs? They were unaware of the asbestos problem, so the only conclusion they could reach was that we lacked basic integrity.
I faced a crucial decision regarding confidentiality and the control of information.
Should I extricate our church from this messy situation by going public with the asbestos problem, and so publicly embarrass the other party? Or should I maintain confidentiality and wait for the other party eventually to explain the whole of the situation? The longer things dragged on, the worse the local press treated us.
I mentally rehearsed how to get out of this dilemma. I could simply call the faculty together and say, “Look folks, let me tell you the whole story. There is a high level of asbestos in this building. We didn’t know that when we entered escrow, and apparently neither did your employers. We can’t run a school that might cause children health problems now, or even fifteen or twenty years from now.”
Had I done that, I suspect the majority of teachers would have supported our decision. I also suspect that the other church would possibly have been torn within by the anger our unexpected revelations would have produced, with the faculty confronting the church and demanding answers: “Why didn’t you tell us about this problem?”
As I said, as if to add insult to injury, we were taking a thrashing in the local press. But whatever temptation I may have felt, it was never a serious option to break our silence and go public.
Instead, I met with the school faculty. I urged each of them to continue to trust our integrity, though circumstances suggested they should do otherwise. “We haven’t changed character, though we have been forced to change course,” I said. I believe they saw the pain on my face and heard the hurt in my voice. I never mentioned the asbestos problem.
In the following days, we gave each teacher a month’s severance pay, though we were under no obligation to do so. God honored our actions in a remarkable fashion. Even though a new school year was nearly underway, every teacher secured a contract in another setting.
All in all, we took a beating at the time, but I’m glad I didn’t say anything more than I did.
This situation was extreme, but the issue at stake wasn’t all that unusual. Pastors are privy to the secrets of member’s lives, secrets that often affect congregational life. We worry about how much to reveal to the entire congregation about individual staff salaries, or how much detail we should report to the church regarding a dishonest building contractor. Church leaders fail morally, and we wrestle with how specific to be with the congregation.
Sometimes these situations seem insoluble.
As we consider the control of information, what hazards should we be aware of? What information should we divulge and what should we restrict? How do we handle the pressure personally?
Many Dangers, Toils, and Snares
Controlling information is a process fraught with dangers, but it is vitally important to a ministry characterized by wisdom and integrity.
The first danger of secrecy is it tends to carry in it the seeds of pride and power. I can control others by choosing what I will and will not tell them. If I know the board is going to cut one of two staff members, I could play them off one another: in separate conversations, I could see which one would be more willing to take a pay cut or shoulder more responsibilities — and then encourage the board to let the other one go.
Another destructive side of secrecy occurs when you are privy to information long before anyone else. As a public announcement is being made regarding a matter you knew about long ago, it’s tempting to sit back and think, I’m way ahead of everyone else. I’m important. It gives you a temporary sense of significance, but something devious is happening in your soul. Pride is seeping into the deep wells of your personality.
Or I can manipulate people and wield extraordinary power by leading individuals to believe I’m sharing privileged information with only them. I simply have to call in one staff member and say, “Bill, I think so highly of you, let me tell you what’s happening with …” and then drop the juicy tidbit. Then I could call in the next staff member and say essentially the same thing, assuring each person he or she is favored, creating a sense of loyalty based on a lying manipulation. That is evil.
Not all secrets are evil in and of themselves. Some are simply points of privacy, such as those that exist between a husband and wife. Even though our family is open, we don’t tell our children everything. The dynamics of intimacy and deep relationships require some holding back.
The key is to search my own motives. Am I controlling information for the purpose of controlling people, or am I withholding information for the purpose of serving their best interests?
In guarding against the sinister use of secrets, I make sure I use no intrigues. If I share something with one member of the executive team, I share it with all the members of the team. That way, there are no hidden intrigues to divide the group.
For example, I once was faced with a decision as to how much to tell the staff when a particular staff member resigned in anger.
When this man first submitted his resignation, I called him in and said, “I’m not going to accept your resignation. That doesn’t mean you can’t resign, but I’m not going to accept your letter at this time. I’d like you to think it over for a few more days.” He looked bewildered but agreed to follow my advice. A few days later I received a letter in which he reaffirmed his decision to leave.
This time I honored his wishes, and we set a date for severance. But just a week before he was to conclude his ministry with us, he unexpectedly withdrew his letter. The family circumstance that initiated his resignation had changed, so he reverted to my earlier offer to reject his resignation.
Yet, just six weeks later, he again gave notice he was resigning. He was disappointed that we did not dismiss the person we trained to take over his position. Even though we tried to work out an amenable integration of the two positions, he was unhappy, feeling somehow diminished (even though we had not demoted him). Now he was leaving, and not without bitterness toward the church, and I guessed sooner or later people would question why he left.
Our executive pastoral team (7 persons) is responsible for the overall flow of information in the church. We wrestled with the question of how much to tell the rest of the pastoral staff (20 additional persons) about his reasons for resigning.
We opted for sharing the facts with the whole pastoral team not to defend ourselves but to avoid confusion. We explained the person’s reasons for leaving, being sure to be forthright but gentle. I asked the pastoral team to hold this confidence, yet I was as candid as possible regarding the man’s disappointment with the church. It helped lay the matter to rest.
I also try to develop a staff mind set. When I ask staff members to keep a confidence, I’m not being secretive. We’re no clandestine cult where only the “initiated” know the inner workings of the group. Nor do I believe that the congregation is “too dumb” to be trusted with sensitive information.
Rather, I want my staff to see information as a trust, and they understand we limit it to reflect the wisdom and gentleness of Christ in dealing with others. My basic concern is to serve people’s best interest.
A staff member sometimes will understandably ask, “May I share this with my spouse?” I never ask staff to withhold information from spouses. I have a high view of the oneness and sanctity of marriage. If a spouse volunteers to be exempted from hearing matters of confidentiality, that’s his or her choice. If they decide as a couple not to burden each other with certain matters, that’s fine. But I will never request — nor would I foolishly attempt to compel them to keep secrets from each other.
These two simple, common-sense steps work to detoxify secretiveness in a staff setting. I believe they also work to create trust and integrity.
A Matter of Degrees and Timing
When do I share privileged information or decide to restrict it? When does a church member have a “right to know” sensitive or potentially embarrassing information? Whose permission do I need to go public?
In my twenty-three years of ministry in my present church, I have encountered two episodes of serious moral failure involving staff. In both cases we controlled the flow of information until we were ready to relate the appropriate facts in sequence to the appropriate levels of church leadership.
In the first case, we waited nearly eight days until we were ready to share the tragic news with the congregation. Why the delay? We wanted to protect both the person involved and the congregation from unnecessary harm. Pacing was crucial to assure avoidance of dumping the failure on the body.
Through careful steps we provided differing levels of confidence, according to a person’s responsibility in the church. The few who needed to know all the sorry details were told everything. Those who needed to know only the basic outline of the incident learned nothing more than that. We meticulously worked through the process so that by the time we informed the congregation, over two hundred leaders had been informed. We told the congregation that specific sexual immorality was the problem, and the offending pastor confessed it of his own volition. But the details were not elaborated.
There was another case, a report of indiscretions by a staff pastor that stopped short of complete moral failure. In this case, the staff member made a veiled proposition to a woman in the church.
It came to light in an executive staff meeting through a report brought by the offended woman. When the pastoral staff member was brought before three of our executive team, he denied the charges, and then a supernatural thing happened.
Our lead administrator turned to the guilty but unconfessing pastor and said, “You’re not telling us about the day you were sitting in a car with another woman.” Our administrator specifically described the location of their meeting, the content of their conversation, and the color of the woman’s clothing. Since the administrator had no prior knowledge of the incident, I concluded that the Holy Spirit had revealed the information to him. The guilty staff member literally collapsed and tearfully confessed his sin.
This was an awkward situation, yet we neither removed the pastor nor informed the congregation, but we did bring him under strong discipline. We were able to deal with the problem before his weakness led to a total moral failure.
We were able to correct another situation before it reached the general congregation. Our church ethos encourages hugging one another. Several people noticed that the embrace between one of our leaders and a woman in the congregation often seemed intimate rather than brotherly-sisterly. When it was brought to our attention, we informed only the executive, one elder and his wife, and we confronted the pastor privately. Why? Because the pastor hugging the woman had not yet crossed a line of transgression requiring public rebuke. Both love and wisdom demanded in this case we protect his reputation and guard his ability to minister in the future. Love covers a multitude of sins.
Does that imply we should hide transgressions? No. Love never glosses over sin. Love doesn’t sweep things under the rug. My congregation will attest that when something demands public disclosure, we lead toward that in an open yet gracious way.
Controlling information in many cases is an act of love. “Covering” people in that case is not the same as a cover-up, but an act of nurture and protection.
The Truth about Finances
Financial information is a particularly delicate area to talk about publicly. Here’s how we deal with two such issues.
• Salaries. Do church members have the right to know anything they wish about the operation of the church, including individual staff salaries? Does their giving to the church imply an ownership granting them free access to any and all information?
My answer to both questions is no.
Not everyone wants to know the yearly salaries of individual staff members. It’s silly to force information on people who don’t care to know what the youth pastor earns.
Rather than share salary information in a shotgun fashion, I use a need-to-know test with two parts. First, do people need to know this information because the staff member’s salary is raising serious questions? Second, is this information pertinent to a leadership issue and being requested by an appropriately positioned leader in the church? If individuals meet either of these two criteria, I will consider sharing privileged salary information.
Generally, though, there’s no compelling need or right for people to know how much a pastor takes home each month. First, in the workplace this is private information, and the church should be at least as courteous. Second, many people cannot appreciate the various considerations that went into his final package. Thus, I opt to keep the information confidential (and I’m supported by our church elders in doing so).
The average median income in our city for a family of four is approximately $35,000 per year. Naturally, many in our congregation make somewhat less. The church pastoral staff, however, is composed of highly trained, capable, and qualified professionals, and their remuneration reflects it.
Individual salaries made a matter of public record could easily provoke envy or bitterness. Few would argue they don’t deserve their salaries, but those making significantly less could be tempted toward jealousy. To avoid that and other problems, we lump salary figures in one budget item in reporting.
When I report that figure at our annual business meeting, I often do so light-heartedly: “I’m sure all of you noticed that the staff salary line item exceeds a million and a half dollars this year. Half of that is my salary alone!”
Once the laughter subsides, I explain, “Though the figure looks enormous at first glance, keep in mind it supports over 100 families.” I then detail the salary components, including our medical, dental, retirement, and other benefits. Once people understand the various costs, they agree our salaries are equitable.
I did on one occasion, however, reveal my own salary figure to a sizable but select group within the congregation. It was during the televangelist scandals of the late 1980s. To ensure people of my integrity, I felt at least a few key people should know what I earned.
I scheduled a series of back yard desserts at the parsonage. We invited about thirty people at a time (a total of 300), selecting these people based on how they served in the body and how vital it was they have full confidence in our financial dealings. They hadn’t had doubts, but they were greatly reassured.
On one other occasion, we made pastoral staff salaries a public matter. During the depths of a recession, our pastoral team asked not to receive a salary increase that year, expressing a concern for many in the church who were losing jobs. I shared that piece of information from the pulpit during a morning sermon. You could just feel the appreciation of the people. It confirmed in their minds the shepherding, servant spirit of these men and women, and that the pastors existed to serve, not exploit the church.
In no other business does everyone know what everyone else is paid. Why, then, require church staff to divulge something so intensely personal? Justice, equity, and fairness demands that church employees receive the same considerations members of the congregation enjoy.
• Financial records. When an individual in the congregation demands access to financial records but has no basis for an accusation of mismanagement of funds, I know I’m facing a spiritual, and not managerial, battle. In such cases, the inquiry is not usually a quest to affirm integrity but to gain control.
I keep such unreasonable requests to a minimum by focusing on the basics. I occasionally remind the congregation that the Holy Spirit controls the church, not any one person or group of people — and certainly not me. I reiterate that we conduct our affairs on a biblical model of conferred authority. When the church elects deacons and leaders, the people authorize them to use their office to distribute funds as best they see fit.
That doesn’t mean individuals can’t raise legitimate questions. We have an open-door policy.
“Never feel that asking a question insinuates you lack trust in the leadership,” I assure our members. “In fact, you may ask any question you wish of our financial administrator or other staff members.” At most three or four people take us up on that invitation in a year, and they are received with courtesy and trust. Almost always they inquire not out of doubt but out of a desire to investigate ways to help.
The Loneliness of Keeping a Confidence
As I mentioned at the beginning of the chapter, withholding information out of a sense of integrity can exact a high price. We will be misunderstood and misrepresented. During the crisis of closing the school, about a hundred of our people seemed to “evaporate” by starting to attend one of our “daughter” churches.
Watching that exodus cut deeply into my soul. Though few ever said so directly, I knew they questioned our fidelity. They were bewildered. (Sheep are easily scattered when a shepherd can’t raise his voice.)
Only my wife knew the deep valley I passed through during those days. Alone, I agonized; I prayed; I wept.
During the darkest of those days, the Lord did a remarkable work in my life. He gave me a dream one evening that began to restore my peace of mind. Then, while I was reading the Psalms one night, a portion of Scripture came alive in such a powerful way I suddenly sat up wide-eyed. I couldn’t stop reading. With tears in my eyes I sensed the Holy Spirit saying, “I’m going to take care of this. It’s all going to work out.” My unanswered questions dissolved in the seas of his assurance and presence.
The asbestos eventually was removed from the building, and we completed the purchase. We did not have to jeopardize the rights and reputation of either congregation.
The other pastor later thanked me for our conduct during the crisis. Almost two years later, word about what really happened leaked out little by little. I received several apologies from those who had misjudged us. I learned that God honors integrity, even when it hurts.
Though it was painful, we had done the right thing.
Lonely as keeping a confidence may be, I learned a valuable lesson. When God calls us to control information in the best interest of others, he can also be trusted to control the situation.
Copyright © 1993 by Christianity Today
