I WAS IN MY NEW PASTORATE for less than three months when one of the founding laymen took me to lunch.
“It seems to me,” he started out, “and I’ve confirmed this with a number of other key people in the church, that you may not be the right person for this job after all.” He pointed to a couple of insignificant (at least to me) changes I had made in the worship service and how that had offended some people involved in our music program.
“In fact,” he warned, “there are a growing number of people who just plain don’t like you or where you’re leading the church. I’m not sure those people will remain in the church if you stay.”
This is yet another anecdote from the story I told in chapter 1. Perhaps it was a harbinger of what was to come. I certainly didn’t realize it at the rime. After my forced exit, I realized that I had either ignored or avoided or didn’t know about a key role of leadership: As a pastor, I must maintain healthy relationships with all the people in the church, even those with whom that is difficult. Put bluntly, I must shepherd people who don’t like me—and those I don’t really like.
That is an enormous challenge, especially when you’re feeling beat up, insecure, and ready to throw in the towel. Another challenge may be the simple admission that, truth be told, we don’t like certain people in the church. We want to believe we love all of God’s children.
But it seems clear it’s normal for every church to have a couple people who are tough to like and, consequently, tough to pastor. Not to care for those who persecute us, though, only invites trouble down the road. Our instincts drive us to avoid feeling uncomfortable, but that drive can cripple our effectiveness as leaders.
Nowhere in Scripture am I instructed to shepherd only the agreeable sheep.
Resist what comes naturally
In ministry, doing what comes naturally is often the best approach. At the bedside of a hospital patient, with families at a funeral, or when sharing the gospel with a nonbeliever, my pastoral instincts usually guide me in the right direction. However, that’s not true when it comes to pastoring difficult people. One of my natural responses is to distance myself from difficult people.
Therefore, I’ve had to learn to make it a point to seek out difficult people and spend a few moments talking together with them.
Recently a woman in our church let it be known that, in her opinion, I had acted out of anger and harshness. She voiced her criticism after she had sent me a letter apologizing for her role in the issue and commending me for the way I had handled it!
When I saw her at a community event a few days later, she walked past me without saying more than “Hello.” I could have let it pass and rationalized that her coldness was her problem. In such situations, I typically think, She’ll get over it. I wanted to ignore her, let her stew, and wait for her to come to me.
Instead, I decided not to do what comes naturally. I practically had to chase her down the hallway. When I caught up with her, I didn’t confront her about her actions or anger toward me; I engaged her in friendly conversation to make sure she knew I wanted to connect with her.
It was amazing what those two minutes did. We ended up laughing about something one of her children had said that week. She hugged me as I left and gave me a look that communicated, “Thanks for talking to me; I needed that.”
Even if our contact with the person doesn’t solve the problem, it builds a bridge rather than a wall. There is something positive and healing about face-to-face contact with people at odds with us.
Invite talk about sensitive subjects
The next rime I saw this woman, we were able to talk with more ease, so I broached the subject of our conflict. My purpose wasn’t to make a point or add another thought about the subject. I simply said, “I’ve been wondering how you are processing your frustration. I want you to know that I care.”
This second contact was easier for both of us, and it communicated to her that we could talk about the issue. The subject didn’t need to be avoided. It’s important to let people know that even subjects of conflict can be discussed; they don’t have to end the relationship.
I’ve had ongoing differences with one couple over the style of our worship service. I’ve met with them on a couple of occasions to talk specifically about the issue. We continue to disagree. We see each other regularly, and sometimes when we are talking about something unrelated to worship, I will intentionally bring the subject into our conversation. I might casually ask, “I’ve been wondering if you have noticed any positive changes in the worship services lately?” Or, “Did you enjoy the extra hymns we sang today?”
I’m not trying to stir up controversy; I simply want them to know it’s okay to talk about something we disagree on. We can disagree and still work together.
Keep private battles private
One of my bigger relational mistakes came at a church meeting. One person had battled me repeatedly about my emphasis on evangelism. At a business meeting the subject of evangelism came up, and several people expressed their excitement about how the church was finally reaching out.
I jumped at the opportunity to say, “Of course, there are some in the church who tell me that we are losing more people than we are gaining because of this strong focus on evangelism.”
Almost everyone recognized that I was referring to the “no evangelism” proponent. The majority of the people supported our evangelism philosophy. It was clear my critic was part of a shrinking minority. I had scored a major victory on that issue, and a public one at that—or so I thought.
Ultimately, the statement came back to haunt me. Just as a negative political ad campaign can generate sympathy for the opponent, so too can a public attack against someone in the church. The week following, I heard comments like, “I don’t think it was fair to say what you did about Ed. He can’t be as opposed to evangelism as you implied.”
Someone else said, “That wasn’t appropriate to raise an issue about Ed’s position when he was not present to respond.”
I could support every statement I had made about Ed’s opposition to evangelism. That didn’t seem to matter. Even though people didn’t agree with his position, they disagreed even more with my public attack of him.
The moral is some things are best left unsaid—an obvious principle that gets ignored or overlooked when the heat gets turned up. Don’t take private battles public. That’s true in a board meeting or in the pulpit or in a conversation with someone who is in the “doesn’t need to know” category.
Practice kindness
A bumper sticker adorns the bumpers of numerous cars in my community. It reads: Practice random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty. It’s a good reminder of one of the most helpful lessons I’ve learned about pastoring people I find difficult to love.
I look for opportunities to be nice to them. It is amazing what acts of kindness can do to build bridges to people. A man in a former church let me know every time I failed to fulfill some expectation of his. Whether returning a phone call within his prescribed time limit, reciprocating a lunch invitation, or giving him an equal number of compliments to the ones he gave me, he seemed to keep score in a way that made me the perpetual loser.
I found him increasingly difficult to be around. After the Lord convicted me of my attitude, I began to look for ways to show him kindness.
I stopped him after church one Sunday and said, “I was wondering if you might be available this next week to help me work on my fly-fishing.” He was an avid fly-fisherman, and I could hardly catch a weed in a stream. In the weeks after our outing, he often referred to our fishing lesson in conversations with me and others.
Fishing on my own sometime later, I finally caught a fish big enough to keep. On the way home, I stopped by my “instructor’s” house and presented him with my first big catch as a gift for helping me learn to fly-fish.
Another time, I invited him to go skiing, and he asked me to show him how to canoe. On some outings, we talked about his need to keep score of people’s behavior to make himself the winner. He eventually admitted this was negatively affecting his wife and his oldest son. I offered some help on how to deal with it.
When best efforts fall short
Of course, no approach to dealing with difficult people will be successful with all people all the time. In Romans 12:18, the apostle Paul said, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” Paul recognized that not everyone will want to live at peace with us.
What do we do when our best efforts still come up short?
In a former church, one lady never seemed fully satisfied with anything I did. Seldom would she tell me directly of her displeasure; I usually heard it through an intermediary source.
I met with her and told her, “I’m unable to live up to your standards of performance and expectations for my ministry. I feel as though I can’t please you.” I told her that since I couldn’t, I was going to stop trying.
Of course, she assured me I didn’t have to please her.
I responded, “So you won’t mind if I no longer concern myself with pleasing you with every action and decision?”
She said she wouldn’t. That took the pressure off and diffused some of her constant complaining. I shared with our elders my conversation with this woman so that if her carping continued, they could address the issue with her directly and decisively.
Sometimes, of course, people decide they can no longer be a part of my life or ministry and leave the church. I’ve learned even here to open the door of communication as much as possible.
One couple told me they could no longer support my ministry or sit under my preaching. My natural response was to let them leave and not to contact them. Instead, I picked up the phone and asked if I could stop by for a brief visit. They reluctantly agreed.
When we met I told them I was not there to talk them out of their decision. I asked if there were specific incidents where I had wronged or offended them personally. I wanted to apologize if there were. They said the issue was more a difference in philosophy and direction, so they decided it was best to find another church. I thanked them for their years of ministry at our church and invited them back anytime. Before I left I asked if I could pray with them.
As I walked toward the door, the wife took my hand and said, “I was surprised you wanted to visit us, but I’m glad you did. Now when I see you at the supermarket, I won’t have to avoid talking to you.” The door of communication was still open. They may not come back to the church, but at least they didn’t leave with a bitter spirit.
Not only are these approaches helpful in building good relationships in general, they yield personal growth in my relationship with Christ. The more I seek to love difficult people, the more God uses them to refine me into the image of Christ. After all, learning to love people is one of the ways we become like Christ. Perhaps it’s the main instrument for pastors in that process.
Staying close to our enemies will usually open doors of ministry beyond what we imagined. That ought to motivate us to care for even the most difficult saints.
Copyright © 1998 Gary D. Preston
