Pastors

THE CLEANSING POWER OF PUBLIC PRAYER

After a week in the world, worshipers may need our prayers as much as our preaching.

While I was a pastor, I became friends with a man who’d retired after many years as a reporter and editor for a major newspaper. Over the years he told me stories from his journalistic career-many of them humorous, others indescribably sad. The force of his tales came from the context of relentless evil in which they were set. My friend was a reluctant but frequent observer of human cruelty, greed, exploitation, and immorality. When I mentioned that fact to him, he did not disagree.

“After you’ve been in the news business forty years,” he said, “you tend to develop a cynical and suspicious edge. You’ve heard every kind of lie, you’ve seen every species of corruption, and you’ve been witness to the sleaziest sorts of performances by folk the public thinks are saints and heroes.”

I asked him how he maintained his spiritual life amid such an environment. “Don’t you feel sometimes as if you’re living in a cesspool? How do you avoid becoming polluted inside?”

“I’m not sure I’ve always kept spotless,” he responded. “By the end of the week, I’ve often felt like a dirtied-up human being. That’s why when I head into church on Sunday I need something to dean me up-a spiritual bath.”

This friend did more than anyone else to confront me with what it means to pastor on a Sunday morning. I realized his plight, while somewhat dramatic, was basically the same as that of most people who come to worship. Whether they know it or not, they also come out of a world saturated with evil. All of them need a bath. I began to wonder whether we provided it.

Years after being alerted to this question, I preached at a worship service led by a friend, Bishop George McKinney of the Church of God in Christ. It was clear he knew something about spiritual baths and the daily lives of worshipers.

Bishop McKinney appointed two elders to stand at the front of the sanctuary. One held a basket so worshipers could step forward and deposit written prayer requests. The other elder stood guard over a garbage pail. Into it worshipers were invited to pour their sin: either a written confession of attitudes and actions or the actual implements of evil from which people wanted to part. The pail often held syringes, pills, marijuana, stolen goods, and once, the bishop told me, a sawed-off shotgun.

Most of us are usually too subtle or cautious to adopt the bishop’s methods. Perhaps we take too lightly the spiritual weight folk bring to the sanctuary on Sunday, and, sadly, too often we permit them to leave carrying the same baggage.

What to do with the “dirt” our people bring to church? As a preacher, my first instinct is to ask what my sermons might do for such a person. But one day it occurred to me that the “bath” is not necessarily in the preaching (although that is important), but probably during occasions I frequently neglected: the prayers.

It took me a while to realize the value of prayers offered during worship, perhaps because people were quick to comment on my sermon and only rarely mentioned the prayers. But as I got to know people deeply, I realized what they longed for (though sometimes were unable to express) was not so much for me to instruct them but to earnestly pray for them, to help lift their heavy burdens. They come each week wearied, muddied, and bloodied. Perhaps the most refreshing thing I can do for them is offer heartfelt prayer.

I realized I had never been taught, either formally or by example, how to pray effectively in worship. My public prayers all too often were little more than strings of religious phraseology. They were extemporaneous but over time developed a ritual quality of their own. Long-term attenders could almost predict what I would say. Painfully, I realized few people were even listening to the prayers in a service; it was a time for minds to wander, drifting back to attention when they heard “and we ask this all in the name of him . . .”

How had I come to that conclusion? Dare I admit, my own experience? I had to muster all my concentration to listen to prayers myself. It was eerie to ponder the probability that on occasion, a thousand people might be present when a person was praying aloud, and that no one was involved in a word said.

Perhaps this is one reason that in nonliturgical congregations we see increased interest in scripted prayers. The ones supposedly spoken “from the heart” seem to have little thought (and therefore content) behind the heart. Even my friends in liturgical churches, however, admitted that well-crafted prayers didn’t keep them or their congregations from sometimes approaching public prayer in a perfunctory manner.

That’s why I decided to ask some hard questions about the meaning and placement of the various prayers in a worship service. I wanted to be sure that each time we addressed Almighty God, we did so with the proper intent and content.

In worship, I discovered, there are at least six kinds of prayer to be offered on behalf of the people. The unknowing leader may confuse the six, mix their purposes, and diffuse the effectiveness of that “bath” my friend came to worship to receive.

The Invocation

The first prayer of worship, usually called the invocation, has only one purpose: to invite and then acknowledge the presence of God among the assembled worshipers. To invoke is to request God’s openness to the words and thoughts of the people. The prayer is to set aside this as a special time, a hallowed time unlike any other during the week. Holy activity is about to commence: worship, humankind’s most important event.

The invocation is not a prayer for people or the issues of the present age, nor a rehearsal of the theological knowledge of the one praying. Rather it is a humble acknowledgment that those gathered look heavenward with thanksgiving, asking God’s presence in what is about to be said and done.

My friends in liturgical churches say all of this in the concise “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.” While I may use a few more words, our invocations focus on the same thing:

We invite your presence, our Father, through the kindness of Jesus Christ. Having finished a week of work, of study, of play, we’re here to worship, guided by the Holy Spirit. We have joined together to express our appreciation for the ways you have safely and lovingly led us. …

The Pastor’s Prayer

Another prayer of the worship service, perhaps the most cleansing of all, is often called the pastor’s prayer. In my pastorates, it became the one prayer of worship I steadfastly refused to delegate as long as I was in the service.

I deem the pastor’s prayer on a par with the pastor’s sermon. If the sermon is the pastor’s opportunity to hold up the Word of C;od to the people, the pastor’s prayer is the opportunity to hold up the people to God. It is not unlike those occasions when Moses interceded for the people of Israel. And it is the congregation’s opportunity (and, I believe, privilege) to hear their pastor pray for them.

As a pastor I often invited my congregation to join me in the kneeling posture for this prayer. I made kneeling an option, recognizing that some would have physical difficulty kneeling in a church without kneeling benches. I knelt on one knee myself and led the congregation from that position.

Kneeling or standing, I found it important to pray this prayer away from the pulpit. Usually I knelt at the head of the aisle. That proximity to the people provided a point of contact for us all. It made my sense of praying more real, and I suspect the people felt more keenly that I was one of them.

The pastor’s prayer usually has four parts. In traditional liturgies, some of these parts may be separated into prayers of their own.

The first is an acknowledgment of God himself and his involvement in our personal and congregational life. We need to be reminded who God is-his attributes and actions. It is a time to reaffirm the majesty of God, to be reminded of the smallness of our world in contrast to his infinite dwelling place.

All week long our world appears larger and larger as it seeks to intimidate, dominate, and exploit. It would be easy for my journalist friend to arrive at worship with the unspoken notion that reality is rotten and undependable. He, like others, needs to be reminded of another reality, that God is not sullied by the machinations of a sinful race.

Thus, a pastor’s prayer needs to center on at least one aspect of God and our response. Majesty, holiness, kindness, and power are merely a few examples.

Lord, in a world dishing out more than ample amounts of harshness, your kindness is a special reality to us. You treat us not according to what we deserve, but according to what we need . You give us gifts and capacities to enjoy the world you created; you give us abilities to love and receive love, to be able to forgive and forget. And most of all, you give us your Son, Jesus Christ. You are a kind God, our Father, and we love you. …

In contrast to such an affirmation, the second part of the pastor’s prayer is usually clear confession that we are sinners, that our past week was marked with attitudes and actions that grieve the heavenly Father. This confession condudes in affirmation of God’s forgiveness for all who are humble and contrite in spirit.

It is no accident that Isaiah felt an immediate urge to confess his sinfulness the minute he visualized the glory of God in the temple (Isa. 6). There is an unbreakable link between the two experiences. We help people by offering opportunity to face frankly one’s sin and resolve the matter with God.

This is a special and most poignant part of worship. As pastor, I speak to God on behalf of my friend the reporter, leading him and others into God’s presence with a realization we are contaminated with the sin of this world. Together we need cleansing; we need to know we are once again clean. For me this moment is both tender and exhilarating.

In Bishop McKinney’s church, the choir sang a lively soul song after people had had a chance for repentance and forgiveness: Jesus heard my prayer, and everything’s OK.”

This part of the pastor’s prayer is not something to pass by lightly. It admits our bent toward rebellion and the importance of the Cross in realigning the believer with the Father. Regarded properly, this can be a moment of liberation, of straightened accounts, for many who have come in desperate guilt and shame for failures in previous hours.

Whoof us here, Father, would not quicklyadmiE we have disappointed you on many occasions this past week? The thoughts and attitudes we have often nurtured are things for which we are truly sorry. We repent of them. Some of us could quickly admit to deeds done or not done of which we are frankly ashamed. Some of us have come here today, Lord, bearing resentments and jealousies that would be terribly embarrassing if others knew about them. We confess these, Father. We need liberation from our sins. Thank you for hearing our personal confessions. …

The third aspect of the pastor’s prayer looks outward upon our world of revolution, starvation, disasters, elections, and achievements-the macroevents people hear about throughout their week. Somehow my prayer must put these things into an eternal perspective and model how to pray in light of such events. All of us need to be reminded regularly that each world event concerns the Father and therefore must concern his children. Not to pray for these matters is to infer by silence that what happens in the sanctuary has no relevance to affairs during the other six days of the week. As a pastor, I found it important to make sure that on the way to church each Sunday morning I heard the latest news broadcast to be sure my prayer agenda was up to date.

A part of our world hurts today, Lord. Men and women who think and feel just like us have no homes, no food, nothing to provide for their children’s welfare. Father, many grieve today over the loss of loved ones in a tragic accident. Presidents and prime ministers engage one another today, Lord; they desperately need wisdom. …

The final part of the pastor’s prayer centers on the needs of the people themselves. I have rarely come to this point of the prayer without remembering the story Henri Nouwen tells of the abbot of a Trappist monastery who met his monks as they returned from the fields each evening, dirtied and wearied. As they approached, he would raise both arms to receive them and cry out, “Are any of you in trouble?” It was a time for each to pause, to reflect upon anything amiss within the heart or among relationships, and to find relief in God’s promised kindness and grace.

The pastor’s prayer, therefore, is a prayer for those who are in trouble and know it-for the worker who fears the loss of a job, for the person facing a doctor’s appointment and potentially bad news, for parents raising children who do not seem to like them, for the single woman who is desperately lonely, for the teenager worrying about his sexual one is prepared to join them and pray for them. This allows people to think through their response as the sermon is preached.

If not an invitation to personal prayers of commitment, then a sermon can end with a brief, reflective prayer, one that calls the listener to a point of dosure. This prayer should not be a review of the sermon’s major points but a petition that God’s Word might be clear to each worshiper and properly applied to life.

All of us-beginning with myself-are startled with the richness of these truths, Father. They call us to something higher and more powerful than we’ve ever known. We need to do something about what you’ve said to us today. Help us to discover what that could be. …

The Final Ascription

Sometimes called a benediction, this is the conclucling prayer in most worship services. All too often it is merely a signal that a service is almost over; people use the time to put away hymnbooks, grab coats, or even get a head start to the parking lot.

We are not merely closing a service with prayer. Rather, we are offering a final affirmation of blessing upon people and thanksgiving to God for having been present.

The prayer should be brief. It need not rehearse the events of the morning but simply acknowledge God’s faithfulness and pronounce his blessing, as the traditional biblical benedictions do. Few things are more moving than for a pastor to raise his hands in blessing over the people and pray them Godspeed in their journeys. It is the final word to the children of God as they re-enter the world. It should be encouraging, tender, and affirming, reminding them that they go with the covering hand of the Father and Shepherd.

Father, we ask your blessing as we leave this place. We have done our best to tell you that we love you, that we’re grateful for your kindnesses, that we want to know more of you. We return to our homes and places of work with confidence in your promised care and guidance. Our expectation is that you will help us seize the hours before us to advance the work of your kingdom.

And speaking to the congregation) Now may the love of Christ, the grace of the Father, and the power of the Spirit rest upon you throughout the days ahead. Amen.

What my friend the reporter/editor means when he says he needs a spiritual bath is that he is in need of someone who knows how to pray for him, especially when he doesn’t feel he can pray for himself. In the corporate prayers during worship, I have an opportunity to provide that sense of cleansing. But it will take time to plan, to think through my prayers, and to make sure each contains what both he and God ought to hear from me, the intercessor. Perhaps then he can return to the newspaper business on Monday ready to take on life in that world with a bit of kingdom power.

Holy Father, may those of us who are pastors and spiritual directors come to increasing appreciation of the rich privilege of holding the people up to you. Give us the insight that helps us understand their needs. Give us the faith that causes us to be confident in the power of intercession. Give us a vision of yourself and your majesty, and ourselves and our brokenness, that causes our prayers for the people to have reality and power, we ask in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Spiritual things are not to be boasted of. One can boast of worldly riches,

and the paper money will not fly away unspent nor will the amount magically decrease,

but the spiritual riches you boast of vanish with the telling.

-Watchman Nee

Gordon MacDonald is president of Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship in Madison, Wisconsin.

Copyright © 1987 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Pastors

Putting It on the Line

The whole counsel of God inevitably includes the Bible’s money orders.

In this series: Preaching about Money

One of the most influential men in our church looked me straight in the eye and said, "You'll never make it. Good luck!"

We had just decided to propose a three-thousand-dollar-per-week increase in our church budget. I got the uneasy feeling he was laying squarely on my shoulders the "impossible" task of meeting the new budget. My trepidation was confirmed several months later when the trustees told me we would not make our budget without "some outstanding messages on stewardship."

I figured that was exactly what the congregation did not want to hear. Not only would it not play well with regulars in the pews, but what about the visitors? My preaching would only compound their perception that the church is a hard-sell organization trying to get into their wallets. I pictured them leaving with the impression that "All for Jesus" really means your cash instead of your life.

I knew well the old saw that when you preach about money, you've left preachin' and gone to meddlin', but I couldn't run and hide. After all, Jesus spoke often about money. Meddling with money goes with the territory for preachers.

So I prepared my heart and words, and when the first Sunday came, I proclaimed the truth about Christian giving. In conclusion, I apologized for having preached on giving-a reflex action, I suppose. Within thirty minutes, two individuals-a visitor and a wealthy member-both reproved me for my apology. "Giving to God is a privilege, an act of worship," they said. They wondered why I had neutralized a good word on giving with an awkward disclaimer.

Facing the Obstacles

Not all congregations are like that, I realize. A young pastor recently wrote a friend: "I've just started serving a small church in upstate New York (predominantly farmers). These are bad times for them. Milk checks don't even cover daily needs. Therefore the church is supported through activities like dinners, dances, and strawberry festivals, which I don't feel right about. I spoke on tithing once and was almost run out of town. They constantly remind me: 'You're new here. Don't tell us how to finance the church.' What is your advice? I need practical help. Please."

He is up against a flock that perceives giving not as an act of personal worship but as the financing of the church. Replacing that idea with the biblical truth takes years.

One of the key obstacles to overcome is that preaching on giving appears self-serving. It smacks of Marjoe Gortner and a hundred other shysters who get into religion for the bucks. Yet the Bible has much to say about giving, and if I'm committed to preaching the whole counsel of God, I've got to provide an answer to "What shall I do with my money?"

Essentials Prior to Preaching

So money talk is a necessary inclusion in my preaching calendar. But the question remains: How can I preach it well?

I've learned that my effectiveness has to begin long before the sermon is forged. Certain factors need to be in place at the core of the ministry.

Budgetary integrity. Any budget I expect God to honor must reflect his heart, his dreams, and his desires. God dreams in terms of basic needs, like reaching the lost, edifying believers, spreading missions, helping the poor and needy.

Unfortunately, my budget sometimes reflects my dreams rather than God's-dreams for bigger and better buildings; for increased staff and salary; dreams that enhance my image rather than his. But if God's priorities are not the budget's priorities, even my best stewardship sermons will not make the grade.

A pulpit committee once asked me, "If the giving of the church fell off, what would you do?" The question caught me off guard, but I think I answered right: "I doubt if I would start preaching about giving. More important is seeking to understand why the giving has declined. God supplies money to affirm a ministry, and he can withhold money to draw our attention to something amiss. Since integrity is at the center of God's character, ministries that have compromised integrity, either personally or corporately, may face financial trouble. I'd look for problems like these before I did any preaching."

I think of two churches in which great financial stress had taken hold. It became so severe that one of them began to lay off staff. Both churches eventually learned the pastors had been guilty of immorality. In addition, one had been taking money wrongfully from people in the congregation, and the other pastor informed his staff he never tithed; since he was the pastor, he didn't need to give. While a financial crisis does not indict the pastor automatically, it presents an occasion to take personal inventory. Is God trying to catch my attention?

Corporate integrity is also vital. Do we do what we say we will do with the people's money? Do we refuse to overstate the crisis-even slightly-to increase the offering? Are churchwide decisions fully communicated? Are the people involved in the decision-making process?

J. Hudson Taylor's statement, "God's work done in God's way will never lack for funds," is a great encouragement. But turn it around, and we face a frightening reality.

Meaningful ministries. It has been said that people vote with their presence and their pocketbooks. As carnal as that sounds, often it is true. An older woman in one church I pastored clipped to her offering check a note that read: "I pay my bills where I get my groceries." It was her way of saying she'd been fed and wanted to support the work in return.

Seeing lost lives come to Christ encourages giving. Parents whose young people are strengthened by an effective youth ministry enjoy giving to the church. Students stretched by a class or converts with reoriented lives are happy to support an effective work. People usually feel compelled to invest in a spiritually significant ministry.

Worship. When a church spotlights the quality, character, and work of God, it engenders the sense of "How can I ever express how much I love him?" Giving is a natural by-product of worship, a tangible way to demonstrate our love for God. By contrast, congregations that drag their way through "the preliminaries" before the sermon have more difficulty teaching people to give as an act of worship.

Preaching about Money

While stewardship effectiveness starts with good foundational practices, it also demands clear and creative preaching about money. There are five principles I remember as I try to bring my people into the biblical joy of giving.

Preach confidently. I can't manufacture this; confidence comes from two realizations.

First, the Word of God has much to say about giving. I can be confident that as I simply teach from the Scripture, God will be at work.

Second, I need a love for people that is willing to give them what they need. Do I love them enough to tell them the truth? Since giving is a basic part of Christianity-the way we prove our trustworthiness to God-I teach them the truth about money, confident in the knowledge they would be spiritually shortchanged without it.

Preach carefully. I work to keep what I say about money grounded in the text. Here are some of the traps I try to avoid:

-Promising prosperity. God promises only to meet our needs (Phil. 4:19).

-Resorting to crisis giving. I like to help people consider giving a part of a daily walk with God, not just a response to a crisis.

-Advocating budget giving. We give to God and his work because we love and worship him. We are not financing an institution; we are investing in his kingdom work.

-Preaching "10 percent for God and 90 percent for me" thinking. Biblical stewardship tells me it all belongs to God, and he has entrusted his money to my care. I urge people to weigh every expenditure in terms of eternity, since ultimately we will give an account to God for what we have done with his money.

Preach creatively. I want to avoid worn-out words and phrases that raise red flags. Stewardship is overused. Tithing evokes images of the 10-percent syndrome. Pledging may denote coerced payment of a portion of income required by the church.

Phrases such as gifts of gratitude and investments in the kingdom not only sound unique, but each of them teaches a biblical concept as well. Soon after President Reagan took office, there was a lot of press about "Reaganomics." His trickle-down theory of the economy was a hot topic. I was preaching then about biblical stewardship, so we talked about "kingdomnomics"-that as we sustain the kingdom with our gifts, there is no trickle down but a cascade of God's provision to meet every need.

In short, I try not to let the tired and misunderstood clich‚s of giving victimize my preaching.

Preach centrally. At the core, giving is a matter of priorities; as Haddon Robinson says, "You can tell a lot about a man's spirituality by looking at his checkbook." Giving is a reflection of where one's heart is toward God. Giving says people love God and seek to express it whether or not he ever does anything for them, because he is worthy in and of himself. I tell my people that making him Lord of their money is the key to serving him without distraction.

Essential as well is prophetic proclamation about the core issues in our culture that work against financial commitment to Christ. I need to confront issues like greed, covetousness, credit-madness, and the accumulation of things.

Someone once told me, "The reason for giving must be bigger than the institution itself. Don't ask for yourself, but ask for something you believe in." Good advice. We give to worship God and to fulfill our part in the kingdom work of Christ. The central issue is: It is his cause not ours, his church not ours.

Preach consistently. As I preach throughout the year, I draw applications about giving from many texts. A consistent (but not constant) emphasis on the attitudes, principles, and adversaries of giving helps keep people in tune with the priority of biblical investments. I'd rather not preach on giving only when I have to. Preaching when there is no crisis gives the concepts greater credibility.

Financial Facts

We all wish we could confine our talk about money to general theological statements. But specific financial needs arise in the life of any church, and they need to be addressed. How do we mention these from the pulpit when the appearance of self-interest is so magnified?

I'm all too aware that what I say about a building fund or a drop-off in giving cancels or confirms my previous preaching on money. But over the years I've learned to take comfort in these truths about the financial life of the church:

-Giving God the credit when great financial things happen in our midst is important. Having people stand and tell about God's faithfulness to meet their needs is not self-serving but God-honoring.

-Generosity is contagious. One Easter we gave away our offering. Fifty-one Sundays had oversubscribed the budget, so believing those with plenty should share with those in need, we sent the offering in equal shares to our missionary families to do with as they wished. That act in itself was a powerful sermon on giving.

-Giving is cyclical. I've had the joy of telling our people to please stop giving to a special project since we already had enough, and I've known the agony of wondering if we would make it through the next month. In fact, I'm writing a letter today, alerting the congregation that our parking lot expansion has put our budget in red ink. Yet, I know the giving may well flow in as we enter a new season.

-God never promised to meet our budget, only our needs. Many times our budget has not been met, but each time the church bills have been paid. We have scaled back; we've altered our goals to fit reality. But our needs have been met.

-It helps to break down a special need for the people. I may say, "If each giving unit can give twenty-five dollars for the hymnals, the need will be met. Some of us can give more, and others not so much. But with all of us together, the need will be met."

Most importantly, however, I have come to realize that giving is symptomatic. A heart that loves God and his kingdom work will gladly give. I am convinced that God loves a cheerful giver because a gift given cheerfully is the outward expression of a heart that loves him. I want to preach in such a way that I break through the cold, hard shell of ritualism and devotionless duty. Such sermons win hearts for God, and when our hearts are his, our pocketbooks will be his as well.

Joseph M. Stowell is pastor of Highland Park Baptist Church in Southfield, Michigan.

Copyright © 1987 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Pastors

THE UNEASY MARRIAGE OF MONEY & MINISTRY

An interview with Jerry Hayner

Jesus said no one can serve two masters; either God or mammon ultimately takes control. Yet despite desires to serve God, church leaders find money issues unavoidable. For some reason, God seems to have wed money and ministry, even while warning of the dangers of money’s allure. How does the church leader deal with this uneasy marriage?

LEADERSHIP sought out a pastor who has known years of both lean and fat.

Jerry Hayner grew up in West Virginia, one of four sons of a glass-factory worker, and as he says, “We wore out the erasers on pencils because we didn’t have a lot of paper.” A basketball scholarship put him through college, and he later graduated from Southern Baptist Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky. He has pastored in Vanceburg, Kentucky; Knoxville, Tennessee; and Gainesville, Florida; and is now pastor of Forest Hills Baptist Church in Raleigh, North Carolina.

Many pastors feel guilty or embarrassed talking about money, whether the church’s or their own. Why is that?

Money seems so “unspiritual.” It’s mammon, which represents the selfishness of life. Our Christian faith accents self-denial. Money can buy you comforts, which hardly seems like self-denial. Also, Jesus was poor by the world’s standard, and he moved among the poor. These combine to make many assume there is something spiritual about a lifestyle of poverty.

Let me hasten to say I don’t agree with that concept. Money is not unspiritual. It’s a fact of life, and the important thing is what we do with it, whether it controls us or we control it.

It’s been said that money is one leading cause of ministerial casualties. How so?

Many churches today are caught up in the business model. The pastor is seen as head of the corporation, and if the annual report doesn’t show a profit, there’s panic. Many pastors are not fund raisers. It’s neither their gift nor their calling. But if the church isn’t meeting the budget, or if it isn’t providing the full program people expect, the pastor bears the blame.

I know people who are unashamed to say the first item they read in the church newsletter is the financial statement-how much money was taken in last Sunday. That’s the scorecard.

In every church I’ve been in, I’ve had people who judge me more by that standard than by my sermons, the number of baptisms, or how many ministries are offered. Money is the bottom line. It’s their measure of the church’s success.

Paradoxically, people expect the pastor to keep the church well funded, but sometimes neglect to take care of their pastor.

I’m grateful that the last two churches I’ve pastored have treated the ministerial staff very well financially, but there are still churches that believe if you keep a pastor poor, you keep him humble. And a number of pastoral casualties occur because pastors can’t afford to stay in the ministry.

One man, formerly a successful pastor, told me recently it became apparent that if he remained in the pastorate, his children would be deprived of a college education and a lifestyle that would even remotely resemble their peer group. He said, “I went through that as a son of a pastor, and I vowed it wasn’t going to happen to my children.” So he went into another line of work.

One complicating factor is that pastors, professionally, are on the level of doctors, lawyers, and company presidents. And socially, pastors are expected to hold their own with these people. But the salaries are rarely comparable. So when you go out to eat at a nice restaurant with some of these people, for them it’s pocket change; for the pastor it takes three months to pay off the MasterCard bill.

Fortunately, this is changing. Churches are becoming more realistic, much more human. Part of this is because churches are discovering the high cost of replacing pastors.

When I left one church in 1973, for instance, I was making $14,000-counting everything including the potatoes we were given! Much of that money, of course, I never actually saw because it went into insurance or pension. I’d been there six years, and the church had grown from less than two hundred attenders to nearly five hundred, had bought ten acres of suburban land, had paved the parking lot and remodeled the building-and my wife, Karen, and I were virtually living at a poverty level. We never were able to afford a car with a radio.

The point of all this isn’t self-pity, but simply to point out that after I left, they couldn’t find anyone qualified who would accept the job at that salary. My successor came at $27,000. The church was forced to upgrade.

Occasionally pastors are given gifts by generous members of the congregation. How do you handle that when you know you’re unable to reciprocate?

It’s true. You can’t give back at their level.

In Knoxville, Karen and I had friends who were almost like parents to us. They were older and had no children, and they gave us season tickets to University of Tennessee sporting events each year. They gave us steaks, and at Christmas they’d give us a $500 check “to buy something for the children.” They were gracious people.

How do you pay back people like that? You certainly can’t match their gifts. But we did want to give something that conveyed our love and appreciation, a gift that showed thought.

For instance, they enjoyed serious Bible study but weren’t aware of all the resources, so one Christmas we gave them a Bible dictionary set. It certainly didn’t match their gifts, but it was appropriate and had meaning for them. I wrote a note of appreciation in the front, and they genuinely seemed to enjoy that gift.

How important is the financial package in deciding whether to accept a church’s call?

Obviously a major factor, but not the most important. The hardest career decision I ever made was turning down a call that would have meant an $18,000 pay increase. That church had wealth and great facilities-family-life center, gymnasium, offices, grounds, sanctuary, education space, retreat center in the mountains. It was first-class. My wife and I visited the place three times trying to convince ourselves to accept that call, but neither of us could come to peace with it, even though it would have put us in an economic bracket that would have made it easy for us to put our daughter through college.

Why did you say no?

You have to understand who you are and what your ministry is. That’s the bottom line. In considering any change, I ask myself two questions.

First, can I motivate these people? I’ve got to feel I have something to give to a prospective congregation. And if I get to the place where I feel I am no longer motivating my present congregation, if I’m a voice they’ve heard so much that it’s too familiar, and if I feel this way over a period of time-not just on Monday after a bad Sunday-then I’m willing to consider a call elsewhere.

Second, do these people motivate me? If my present congregation no longer causes me to dig in and work hard, and if they are not making me excited to get up in the morning, that at least opens the door for me to consider another place of service, should one come along.

In this case, the new church did not present me the challenge the church I was pastoring offered. It didn’t motivate me. I was still motivated where I was, and I felt I was at the peak of my ability to motivate the people there. I could not in good conscience leave simply to take a higher income.

Frankly, I’ve never regretted that decision.

What are the consequences of using finances as a measurement for ministry?

Ultimately, despair. The financial measuring stick is almost always used to compare our situation with someone else’s-either another person’s salary or another church’s budget. And there will always be someone who makes us look small.

It’s tough to graduate from seminary and see college graduates being pursued by IBM or Eli Lilly or Burroughs for tens of thousands of dollars more than you’re making. If you see life through financial lenses, it’s hard to accept a call to a small church in Oklahoma, where some of the other pastors in town have never been to seminary.

On the congregational level, with the corporation mindset, you judge churches by their prestige, size, or wealth. And again, you can never win that game! People in your congregation will always tell you about another church in Houston they just heard about that has some fantastic ministry, and unless you start it here, your church is deficient.

It breeds despair and disillusionment.

So the effect on ministry is a quenching of your spirit, your motivation?

Yes, but it also causes ministers to begin pursuing things they shouldn’t just to satisfy the people who are on their backs.

Every church, for instance, has certain influential people who want you to really push tithing. They’ll take you out to lunch and say, “Pastor, we’re really concerned that you’re not preaching enough about money. We’re not making budget like we ought. We’re not able to give as much to missions as we’d like. You need to come down hard on that.”

Now suppose the pastor is focusing this year on pastoral work with families, with hurting people, or with some issue in the community. The pastor has to make a choice: Will I continue on that track? Or am I going to take their track?

Several pastors I know have given in to that pressure and said, in effect, “If that’s what it takes to survive, then that’s what I’ll do.” So every sermon has its jabs, every decision is weighed by its effect on giving patterns. Consciously or subconsciously, they feel they have to produce a profitable corporation.

Even with the stereotype that says, “The church only wants my money,” you still find church members wanting you to ask for more?

Not the rank and file. It’s the financial watchdogs who put the pressure on, and usually that’s only a few individuals.

People outside say, “Every time I go to church, they talk about money.” Those are voices crying in the wilderness. The other voices are crying in your board room.

They’re probably not saying, “Preach to us about money.” Isn’t it “Preach to them”?

True. And with that constant pressure, I’ve had to answer to myself and to the Lord. I tell myself, They can take my job, but they’re not going to get my soul.

I told someone the other day, “Look, every time I step into that pulpit and see twelve hundred people, I know some of them are hanging on by a thread, just trying to survive, and this service gives them hope for another week. I absolutely refuse to make every Sunday a pitch for money.”

I remind myself that the purpose of the church, financially, is not to accumulate as much money as possible but to give away as much as possible.

So how often do you mention money in a sermon?

I do my share. We have our times and seasons during the year that lend themselves to focusing on a person’s stewardship. But I have to resist the steady pressure to do more.

In the Southern Baptist Convention, for example, we have four major mission offerings a year: home missions, foreign missions, world hunger, and state missions. Each promotion lasts a month and comes complete with literature, envelopes, messages, articles in denominational newspapers, everything. The denomination really pushes it, and all the churches set giving goals. If you don’t reach the goal, some think you’ve failed.

In my first couple of years in my present church, either the goal was too high or the people dragged their feet or something. I was doing some kind of promotion every Sunday that month. When the four weeks ended and we hadn’t reached the goal, I had to extend the promotions another three or four Sundays until the goal was met. It was taking eight weeks to finish one missions offering. Multiply that by four, and thirty-two Sundays a year were spent raising funds-and we hadn’t even mentioned our own church budget!

I finally had to take a stand: “We will give each appeal four weeks. That’s it. After that, nothing more will be said in the bulletin, newsletter, or pulpit.”

The upshot has been that we have reached most of the goals, but not because of extended pulpit appeals. Those concerned about the goals talk privately to people, which is fine with me.

I tell our finance committee, “I can’t criticize this church. Our income has gone from $500,000 to nearly $1 million in four years, and while we’ve had healthy growth in attendance, it hasn’t been in proportion to our financial growth. That money has been coming from the same people. And when people increase their giving like that, I’m not going to berate them for not doing more.”

Has it been a struggle to meet such a rapidly growing budget?

I’ve been criticized for making budgets too high. My philosophy, however, is that the budget ought to cause you to stand on tip-toe to reach it, but if you’re standing on tip-toe, you ought to be able to reach it. In other words, it ought to be a challenge, but a realistic challenge.

We’re running behind budget right now, and we may not reach it this year. But we’re not pulling out our hair, because we realized we were setting it high-$110,000 more than last year, an 18 percent increase. And our budget has enough flex with contingency funds and optional maintenance items that we won’t cripple our ministry.

Among Southern Baptists, 10 percent is the normal increase for a healthy church. Anything more is taking a risk. And we’ve had increases of 14, 18, 22, and 18 percent in the last four years.

In years past, if we didn’t make budget, people felt like failures. Now we look at it this way: “Even if we didn’t raise it all, we still gave $90,000 more than we did last year. And that’s a successful year.”

Does the congregation know your own level of giving?

I’ve told the people that ever since my first summer job at J. C. Penney as a high school sophomore, I have tithed. I don’t say that to brag; it was simply the way I was brought up. My wife and I believe the Lord deserves at least a tenth of our income, and in addition, we contribute to the seminary where I graduated and to other causes we feel are worthy.

Recently, during a special stewardship drive, I had to give public testimony about how my wife and I planned to increase our giving over the next fifteen years. I like the denomination’s concept here; we don’t emphasize the amount of the increase, but the percentage of increase.

For instance, we don’t care if you give 5 percent or 30 percent. If people haven’t tithed before, many of them are terrified at the thought of giving away 10 percent of their income. So we might ask people to increase their giving by l/2 percent of their annual income. When they divide that number by fifty-two Sundays to see what their weekly increase will be, they realize it’s not all that much.

If they increase by l/2 percent each year, after fifteen years even nontithers will be giving 7l/2 percent.

What did you and your wife say you would do?

Our plan is to get up to 16 percent in that period. Right now we’re giving close to 12 percent. For the first five years, we’re going to add l/2 percent per year, and then reevaluate at that time. I want to set an example of steady increase for at least the next five years.

Do you teach people to base percentages on take-home pay, gross salary, or total pay package?

Everyone’s situation is so different. One person has to cover his insurance, social security, and annuity out of his take-home pay. Another person has that paid by the company. So I don’t get into that.

When someone presses me for specifics, I say, “If you need a figure to work from, just start with your take-home pay.”

When you come up against a financial problem in the church, where do you go for help?

Every church has its “E. F. Huttons,” the people who, when they talk, everyone else listens. When I come to a church, these are the people I look for first. And when we face a problem, I seek them out.

How do you spot the “E. F. Huttons”?

I observe business meetings, committee discussions, and informal conversations. I notice the names people invoke. In business meetings, you’ll hear a lot of ideas batted around, and then someone will say, “Well, it seems to me . . .” After a few more minutes, the vote is taken, and it goes that person’s way.

They’re usually not the first to speak. They’re not ones to wave flags or call attention to themselves. But if you watch, you’re able to see their influence. Many times they’re people of great spiritual sensitivity, which is what makes others in the church follow them. I try to cultivate a relationship with these people.

What are some of the things you’ve gone to them for?

In one church, the previous pastor had been highly conservative in financial matters. No budget could be higher than last year’s income. Now that’s safe! For years he’d always reached his budget because, in reality, he’d reached it the year before. It’s like putting your dart on the wall and drawing circles around it. You always hit the bull’s eye.

My philosophy is a bit different. He ran three downs up the middle, and if he didn’t make it, he punted. Now I won’t pass from my own end zone, but I’ll pass from my five-yard line. I’m willing to take a few more risks.

When I went to that church, I’d been led to believe the church was looking for a passer, a more progressive signal caller. That assessment was accurate for 80 percent of the congregation, but not for the heart of the church, the decision makers.

So I looked for my E. F. Huttons, and I found them. They were people everyone seemed to love dearly. I enjoyed getting together with them and talking about the past-how the church got started-and then I’d ask, “Where do you think the church should be going?” We developed a good friendship.

Then an issue came up. The church was landlocked and really needed to buy some property. Previously, the church had rejected purchasing that property. Now we had no choice: either buy that property or stop growing. I, along with most of the younger members, was for the purchase.

But some of the 20 percent saw me as the villain who was going to lead the church into financial ruin.

So I went to my E. F. Hutton, told him what was being said, and asked for his help.

He said, “Don’t you worry about it.” He was director of the adult Sunday school, and he stood up the next Sunday and reminded them of their great days of faith when they launched out without knowing where they were going and without great resources. He pointed out how the Lord provided, and he said, “Now this is a new time, and we have new challenges. Let’s get behind this program.”

End of chapter. The resistance evaporated.

Some people might call these “games” you have to play. I don’t call them games. It’s reality, learning to deal effectively in human relationships.

What do you do when the resistance remains?

I don’t argue. As I told the deacons one time, “Even if the Lord appeared visibly to me and told me our church was to do certain things, if you didn’t agree to do them, I wouldn’t do them. I’m not going anywhere without you. If you can’t support the program, it’s going to die right here in this room, because I won’t fight you on the floor of the church. If you who are elected spiritual leaders of this church cannot run with the program and believe in it, then I’m not going to do an end run.”

Have you ever had to do that?

Oh, yes. After I went to one pastorate, we had a committee examining the possibility of buying a computer to help us with our financial and visitation records-things that would help us manage a large church effectively.

Well that was new stuff for a lot of people who still used pencil and paper because they didn’t trust a hand calculator to balance their checkbooks. Talking about a computer was like launching a space ship from a horse and buggy.

We voted on it and won. That is, we got the numbers: 70 percent for, 30 percent against. But I told the congregation the next week that we weren’t going to buy the computer. Afterward some of the 70 percent criticized me: “When are you going to let the majority win around here?”

I said, “This isn’t a majority/minority thing. Why risk the fellowship in the church over a silly computer? Maybe we’re premature.”

We did some more research, even changed computer companies, came back about four months later, made another presentation, and received nearly 100 percent approval.

Often it pays off to wait your time.

If the church is in good health and the people aren’t fighting with each other, time generally will let all of them move along with you. If they are fighting with each other, however, nothing you can do is going to help, because they’re going to vote against each other, not for or against the issue.

What do you know now about money that you wish you’d known at the beginning of your ministry?

I think I’ve learned to be a little more realistic than idealistic. Early in my ministry I thought if you could just present the Great Commission and have your planes and ships lined up, people would automatically want to get to them. I’ve learned you have to be realistic in developing both budgets and the feelings of people. You have to adjust your expectations.

I don’t claim for a half second to be a financial wizard; that’s not my gift. But I try to know enough not to be naive.

And I’ve tried to put round pegs in round holes-to put people with capabilities in leadership positions and let them know this is their gift and this is where God has placed them in this church at this time for this purpose. After all, the church isn’t my church. Under God, it’s their church, too.

* * *

NOT IN IT FOR THE MONEY

As I was finishing seminary, I met with the pulpit committee of a Baptist church in South Carolina. They were considering me as an associate minister, and they seemed to like me. Soon we were talking specifics.

The chairman of the finance committee looked at me and said, “Now we don’t have much money, and we’re deeply in debt. We want to know, Jamie, how little can we pay you and still have you come?”

That put me on the spot. They didn’t know it, but I wanted to be in ministry so bad, I probably would have paid them to work there. Nevertheless, they wanted an answer, and I didn’t know what to say.

I asked for some time to consider

I went back to Fort Worth and talked with my pastor, James Harris.

“They want me to set my own salary, but as low as possible,” I said. “What do I tell them?”

“You tell them you will come for whatever they want to pay you,” he advised. “And that means you will live at whatever level they choose. If they want you to wear the same pair of pants every day for the next year because you can’t afford to buy another, say you’ll do that. And if they want your wife never to go to the hairdresser because you can’t afford it, she’ll never go to the hairdresser. Tell them they can choose the level, and you’ll live at that level.”

That seemed a wise answer, so I went back and told them what Dr. Harris had coached me to say. I waited for their response.

“Fine!” said the committee chairman. “That means you’ll come for $3,500 a year”-which meant I couldn’t buy a new pair of pants and my wife would see no hairdressers!

We lived in the poverty they imposed, but within six months I was made pastor, and gradually we began to prosper.

When I look back on that situation, I see how God honored our commitment. Our hearts were right. We were willing to go. I wanted to minister, and I was not ministering for money.

I never have.

-Jamie Buckingham

Tabernacle Church

Melbourne, Florida

Copyright © 1987 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Pastors

OVERRIDING THE POCKETBOOK VETO

The vote on the budget was fifty-nine in favor and fifty-eight opposed. I sat in shock. How could we possibly enter the new year with the membership so divided over a budget of several hundred thousand dollars?

Though I’d had my suspicions earlier, this was the first time I could clearly see the strength of the opposition. Would the fifty-eight support the budget? There seemed little hope. The issues were complex, but one kept resurfacing: “Too much money for young people and not enough for the rest of the church.” The cry reminded me of “money for guns but none for butter,” which has confounded many a president.

Our youth ministry was indeed extensive, and effective, but some felt it was too expensive. During the previous two years, our youth group had grown-attracting one thousand high schoolers to most events-and so had the youth budget. It had mushroomed from one salaried person and limited program funds to a total of more than fifty thousand dollars annually.

It was a time of unusual revival-and unusual conflict. Along with the significant blessings of such a movement was the imperative to maintain the unity of the church.

During this period, we were reasonably successful in maintaining physical unity; not many people left the church. But I began to detect an attempted “pocketbook veto” of the church’s direction. The giving for the general fund dropped sharply, while designated giving for missions increased by a comparable amount. Each week the opposition continued to vote against the program by means of their offering envelopes.

How do you override such a pocketbook veto? In this case, we simply waited to see if there were enough “votes” to sustain the veto. We began the year lagging behind budget, but over the course of the year, those supporting the program apparently outnumbered the opposition, and they gave enough to eventually meet and exceed the budget.

Sometimes, however, waiting it out isn’t enough. Action has to be taken.

Two years later, we faced another attempted veto. A staff member resigned, and a number of people were upset, feeling the board and I had made some bad decisions that led to the resignation. Again, the pattern was the same: money was directed to missions and away from the general fund, which pays the pastor’s salary!

My response was to meet individually with the folks most upset. I took them seriously, listened carefully, and tried to explain the factors as I saw them. I told how we tried to help the staff member find another position. In this case, with pastoral care, prayer, and attempted reconciliation, understanding grew. A pocketbook veto is an emotional reaction. Once these people felt they had been heard, they were satisfied.

Later, we detected a third situation. As summer approached, giving was dangerously low. Another pocketbook veto? I wasn’t sure, but I knew it was more than a characteristic summer slump. Could we eke it out and make up the deficit in December again? I didn’t think so. To override this undefined veto, I felt I needed to pay the price, literally.

I recommended to the board sweeping budget cuts, including a sizable cut in my own salary. The board implemented these cost-cutting measures, and when they were communicated to the congregation, they had a sobering effect. It was the first time the church had ever had to admit financial failure.

I still don’t know all the reasons for the shortfall, but over the next few months, the congregation began shouldering the financial responsibility again. The last Sunday of December saw us exceed our revised budget enough to meet most of our other obligations, including my full salary. Thank God for saints who want the church to be solvent!

One final note: I don’t know the amounts individuals give, nor do I want to know. I’ve always been somewhat in awe of people with wealth, and it has taken me years to feel comfortable around them. I admit my vulnerability.

Especially during attempted pocketbook vetoes, I would find it almost impossible not to let my attitude and pastoral care be influenced if I knew who had stopped supporting the ministry. Recognizing there’s nothing to gain by speculating, I consciously avoid trying to pin faces to financial fluctuations.

Someone has described a jet plane as “a few thousand parts flying in relatively close formation.” The church is like that, too. When parts start to come loose, my job as pastor is not to cast them aside but to help them rejoin the whole.

– Arthur E. Gay, Jr.

South Park Church

Park Ridge, Illinois

Copyright © 1987 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Pastors

GETTING THE PROS, NOT THE CON

A guide to getting the most for your money.

A Pennsylvania pastor hired with high hopes a fund-raising consultant for his church. The previous year had been tough on the church. Local unemployment had soared to 26 percent. After nineteen years of meeting budget, the church ran a deficit of nearly $28,000; only courageous tithing of severance pay by some who were forced into early retirement kept the shortfall to $6,000.

The church knew it needed a solid financial base for the future, so it engaged a fund-raising consultant to lead a capital-funds campaign.

“No problem,” said the owner of the fund-raising company, a retired clergyman. “I’ll find fresh money within the congregation, beyond what’s already committed. With my trained staff of retired clergy doing the calling, I can promise success.”

What he delivered instead, according to the pastor, were “additional expenses and lots of hard feelings.” First, the consultant told the congregation to ignore any current financial commitments made to the church and pledge again thus reusing previously pledged funds to make the new money raised seem greater. He ordered publications and materials, and billed them to the church without authorization. Finally, he misrepresented, or at least miscommunicated, his fee and billing schedule, and socked the church with unexpected charges.

The angry church dismissed the consultant and hired a different firm. This one, the pastor says, “has done a super job. They’ve been up front and honest; we know exactly what it’s going to cost. I was unusually impressed with their evaluation of the church-no outrageous guarantees-and we’re excited about the program we’re doing together.” The church’s financial future looks bright.

Selecting the right consultant to lead a fund-raising campaign takes careful scrutiny. But finding a reputable and competent consultant is well worth the effort. Tapping their professional expertise, thousands of churches have constructed new sanctuaries, refurbished old ones, purchased land, and retired debts. “The church needs money to move,” says one financial counselor, and each year consultants raise nearly a billion dollars in such “moving expenses.”

Indeed, one factor complicating the choice of a fund-raising consultant is the sheer number available. The National Society of Fund-Raising Executives boasts twenty-seven hundred members, and perhaps two thousand firms work with churches. And this number does not include denominational officials who lead fundraising campaigns.

A few firms are large, staffing several dozen consultants and working with more than a hundred churches during any given year. The vast majority of firms, however, are small, one- or two-person operations led by retired clergy or those who pastor part-time and raise funds on the side.

No regulatory agency governs fund raisers or sets minimum ethical standards. Despite the lack of controls, however, only a minute number of fund raisers could be considered unethical, according to people both within and without the industry.

Del Rogers, president of a Dallas-based consulting firm, says the horror stories stem not from malicious intent but the misguided content of some campaigns-programs relying on methods that create hard feelings.

As L. H. Coleman, executive vice president of Cargill Associates’ church division, puts it, “The problem is not with integrity. The integrity level among consultants is high. It’s the competence level that varies greatly.” Every consultant considers his approach biblical, but some simply do not achieve acceptable results, or their tactics bruise parishioners. The critical issue for churches, then, is not so much finding a consultant who means well, but one who manages well.

The key in getting the right consultant is knowing what questions to ask before signing the contract.

Do We Need a Consultant?

The first two questions are “Do we need a capital-funds campaign?” and if so, “Can we raise the money ourselves, or do we need outside help?”

The answer to the first question depends largely on two guidelines:

A church’s long-term debt should not be more than three times its annual operating income. If, for example, a church’s annual income is $250,000, it ought to take notice when its long-term debt passes $500,000 and consider $750,000 its ceiling.

A church ought not spend more than 30 percent of its operating income on debt service (principal and interest).

If a church approaches either of these limits, then it’s time to consider a major capital campaign.

The answer to “Can we go it alone?” depends on how much money needs to be raised. “If it’s a vibrant church, if the pastor has some gifts in fund raising, and if the need is less than their annual income, a church might consider doing it themselves,” according to Coleman. “But if a church needs more than its annual income, it needs a consultant.”

A consultant will almost always help a church raise more money than it could on its own, for a number of reasons: the firm’s experience, their organization, the fact that most pastors don’t have the time to devote to a major fund-raising project.

“The consultant becomes a catalyst,” says Vic Pentz, pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Yakima, Washington, who recently began a capital-funds campaign. “There’s an aura about having someone come in from outside. It holds everybody accountable. You tend to work harder, to do things on schedule. Sometimes you think, Hey, we could do these things ourselves. But you probably wouldn’t.”

It’s not uncommon for pastors and boards considering hiring a professional to hit resistance.

“There’s a lot of stigma in the church against a fund raiser,” says one pastor who recently hired one. “The word conjures up an image of a fast talking guy with a gold ring on his pinky.” One pastor in the Southwest had strong support from his people to build a new building. The church hired a professional architect and contractor with little notice. Then it hired a professional fund raiser, and people objected, saying, “When it comes to money, we should trust God, not professionals.” Pastors deliberating whether to employ a fund-raising consultant will need to factor in these emotional considerations.

What Can Consultants Deliver?

Without question, consultants can deliver dollars-lots of them. The average campaign raises between two and four times a church’s annual income (in pledges for a three-year period, beyond what people are currently giving). Thus, if a church’s annual income is $150,000, it could reasonably expect to raise between $300,000 and $600,000 in pledges during a campaign, and would normally see 80 to 90 percent of that come in over the next three years. This two- to four-times ratio seems constant across the industry. Even those pastors and boards who want to estimate conservatively can plan on at least one-and-a-half times their church income.

The average works the other way, too. Though there are true super-success stories, like the church with a $230,000 budget that raised 2.1 million-over nine times its income-these are exceptions and should be regarded as such.

What does vary is the percentage of pledges made that actually come in over the next three years. Three churches in a major southwestern city recently held campaigns of similar size, and each raised approximately the same amount in pledges. In one church, less than half the pledged money ever hit the offering plates. In another, less than a third of the pledges were good. In the third, about 90 percent came in. When each percentage point represents thousands of dollars, the pay-up rate proves crucial.

So when considering a consultant, one factor to check is not only the level of pledges a firm can boast, but the records indicating the percentage of pledges that actually came in. The better firms generally see 80 to 90 percent of their pledges honored.

Firms will not guarantee these averages or any dollar amount, so though you can expect a certain level of pledges, you cannot hold the firm liable if that level isn’t reached. As one fund raiser explains: “We can guarantee we will lead an organized campaign, but only your people and the Holy Spirit know what can happen in your church.” And it is probably to pastors’ advantage not to insist on a guarantee; any firm that guarantees its results will be sorely tempted to use high-pressure methods to succeed.

What Will It Cost Us?

It’s next to impossible to find out what a consultant will cost, short of actually having one make an initial visit and presentation to a church. A pastor cannot do comparison pricing by phone.

Consultants rely on a complex formula to compute their fees, and they are averse to divulging it. But some of the factors that affect the fee are:

Location of the church. Transportation costs comprise a major portion of the fee, so generally, the farther a church is from the firm’s nearest office, the more it will pay. This may be reduced, however, if the firm is working with another church in the area at about the same time.

What the money is for. The easiest type of money to raise is that earmarked for a new sanctuary; the hardest money to raise is for debt retirement. Many firms adjust fees accordingly.

Size of the church. Usually, the larger the church, the more work for the consultant and the more printed materials that are needed, and thus, the more he or she will charge.

Other factors are disputed. One firm says the amount of money to be raised affects the fee; another says that doesn’t enter in at all.

These variables result in some seemingly odd fees. Consider three recent campaigns led by three different fund raisers:

One church had a $500,000 project; the firm’s fee was $30,000.

In another church, a firm raised close to $1 million; its fee was $27,000.

A third church raised $1.5 million; the consultant charged $22,000.

Consultants will divulge their fee when they make an initial evaluation and presentation, for which there is no charge. Inuring this visit to the church, the consultant will explain his or her particular approach and answer questions.

Some firms take an entirely different approach to fees, earning a flat percentage of the money raised, say, one-half of 1 percent. At first glance this approach looks appealing. The compensation is tied directly to the results, and thus the firm will be highly motivated to bring in the money. But in the system lurks great danger. Warns one professional: “Fund raisers that work on a percentage will be tempted to use hype and emotionalism to increase their take. They’re more inclined to twist arms.”

With either system, though, it’s important that a church understand clearly what the consultant will provide and precisely what those services will cost.

Payment schedules vary. Some firms ask for 10 percent down, with the rest spread out over the length of the campaign, usually three to six months. Others require four equal monthly payments. But in any case, churches will have to pay all or part of the fee up front. They cannot expect to wait until the money is raised and use that money to pay the fees. Having said that, however, many consultants will arrange the payment schedule so that the last few payments are due after the dollars start flowing in, so at least a portion of the fee might be covered by the money raised.

Do Consultants Pay for Themselves?

Most pastors considering an outside consultant will have to answer, to the satisfaction of the church, “How do you justify that hefty consulting fee?”

Records show that in most cases consultants have generated far more than their fees in dollars above what churches typically raise on their own. The church that “saves” the fee will usually net smaller results. Says L. H. Coleman, “Usually, with the first person you contact in a campaign, you’ve more than paid for the fee,” since most campaigns approach larger donors first.

Another way to consider the question is to figure what it would cost to borrow the money rather than hold a capital-funds drive. Say a church takes a $500,000 loan at 10 percent interest over twenty years. The church will pay over six hundred thousand dollars in interest to the bank. Even if you allow for the congregation raising some money itself through “Debt Retirement Sundays,” the church will pay several hundred thousand dollars in interest, which is not tax-deductible and benefits the church in no way.

On the other hand, suppose the church takes the same loan but holds a capital-funds campaign. If the campaign begins in January, dollars start arriving in April. Construction begins in say, June, with early campaign dollars helping pay for site preparation and architects’ fees. By the next April, when construction is finished and the church is ready to put permanent financing in place, almost $200,000 has come in (the first year is always highest). The church can thus borrow much less, about $350,000, and pay that off over the next two years with the remaining campaign income. At the end of the third year, the church is debt free and has paid well under $100,000 in interest. Even adding a consultant’s fee, the costs to the church are less than those in the first scenario.

What Will the Consultant Do?

When a church contacts a fund-raising firm, a consultant will take information about the church, such as its size and characteristics, its annual budget, and how much the church wants to raise.

Then the consultant will meet with the pastor and/or the decision-making body. Most will gladly return to make a presentation to the entire church, if desired.

During the presentations, the consultant will outline the time, activities, and fees involved, and what the church can reasonably expect to raise. The presentation usually sets a positive, forward-looking tone: “We can do this together.” Words like dreams, goals, potential, and commitment are favorites of fund raisers. There is no cost to the church for these initial contacts and presentations.

What will the person be like? Consultants, most often, have had experience as a pastor or church staff member at some point, or are very active laymen. And they are eminently likable. One pastor describes the fund raiser his church hired: “He looks like a grandpa, smiles a lot, and touches you when he talks to you. He allays all your fears.” Adds an industry observer, “You’re always going to be dealing with nice people in this business. You aren’t going to find any nasty people when they’re trying to sell you a contract.”

Should the church decide to hire the consultant, an agreement will be sent by mail for the church to sign. Once the contract is signed, a church cannot back out without some legal entanglements or paying the full fee, but this happens only rarely. And if internal problems come up in the church, say, a key staff member leaves or is fired, most firms will try to postpone the program for a while, if possible.

The campaign lasts from three to eight months, with about four months being average. Each fund raiser structures a capital campaign slightly differently, but most employ the following elements:

An introductory meeting to set an upbeat, positive tone in the congregation. In some firms’ programs, the consultant will address the congregation on Sunday morning in place of the pastor’s sermon.

An evaluation process. The consultant tries to get a clear picture of the church’s giving potential, attitude toward the project, and potential leaders. The information may come through a survey, or more often, through a meeting of five to twenty people, either the church’s current leaders or a cross section of the membership.

Some firms use this evaluation period to identify the largest potential donors, either by looking at individuals’ giving records or by analyzing their probable income based on home location and occupation. Other firms look only at giving patterns of the whole church. Most firms will not press to see any records the church doesn’t want to release, but churches should know the firm’s usual practice and the information they request.

Recruitment of leaders. Based on the information gathered during the evaluation period, the consultant enlists a steering committee to lead the campaign. Typically, this committee includes about ten people who exhibit, in the words of one consultant, “spiritual leadership ability, natural leadership ability, and financial leadership ability.” Since in most campaigns the top five gifts come from members of the committee, one might conclude the last criterion weighs quite heavily.

The steering committee then gathers other members of the congregation to help with the campaign. The campaign is usually carefully organized, with each person given a title-director, chairperson, captain, worker-and a clear job description. Through several training sessions, the consultant explains to each person his or her job and gives each a manual or notebook.

First home visit. Trained people from the church then call on people in their homes. During this fifteen- to thirty-minute visit, no one is asked to make a commitment. Instead, the visitors (ideally a couple, according to one consultant) talk briefly about the good things happening at the church, and ask what needs in the home they might pray for. The visit is intended primarily to establish a climate of support and expectancy.

Some firms use only one home visit during the campaign, during which they do gather commitments. Others rely on their own staff of trained clergy, rather than the church’s lay people, to make the visits.

Maynard Nelson, pastor of Calvary Lutheran Church in Golden Valley, Minnesota, has employed numerous consulting firms during his ministry, and has experience with both approaches. His view: “The outside visitors did the job, but it’s much more effective using your own people if possible. It’s better to involve large numbers of people and have broad ownership of the program and its goals.”

During this early stage of the campaign, some consultants ask the pastor to meet with potential large donors, usually over dinner in private homes, to personally explain the program and enlist their support. Fund raisers hope to encourage, through this or other approaches, a lead gift that is 10 percent of the campaign goal.

Prayer emphasis. Some consultants set up twenty-four hour prayer vigils; others use prayer chains or other approaches.

Informational period. Also called a “promotional period,” this is the stage during which the church gives people the who-what-when-where-why of the program, in detail. “It’s not fair to ask people for money unless they know what’s going to happen to that money,” says Coleman. Brochures and newsletters are sent to church members, describing the project, detailing the floor plan of the new building, and so on. Bible studies and Sunday school classes on Christian attitudes toward giving are held. The pastor preaches a four-week series of messages on stewardship. During the Sunday morning service each week of this period, a member gives a testimony, telling why he or she is excited about the church and program, and usually naming the specific amount he or she will be giving. Fund raisers look for a mix of wealthy and not-so-wealthy to give these testimonies; many firms ask the pastor to give the first one.

All-church gathering. This is either a banquet or worship service. The pastor usually gives the keynote address, and selected members of the congregation talk about what God has done for the church in the past, what he’s doing in the present, and what he will do in the future. Often a slide show gives information and inspiration about the church and project. The consultant is usually not present for this event.

Some firms gather the campaign leaders at a “leadership challenge meeting” a few days before the banquet and ask them to make their commitment to the campaign. Then, at the banquet, the leaders commitments are announced, encouraging people that the high goal really is accessible. In some churches, the leaders alone contribute more than the church initially thought the entire congregation could give.

A canvass period. Most campaigns take people’s commitments during the first one or two weeks following the all-church gathering. Some firms train people to phone and make appointments, others to just show up, but either way, people have been prepared through five or six newsletters and the pastor’s message to expect the visitors. The visitors talk about how exciting the banquet or worship service was. Then they “receive the commitment” by giving the people a card and envelope. The people write their commitment on the card, put it in the envelope, and seal it, so the visitors do not know the size of the pledge.

A few fund raisers have visitors suggest specific amounts for people to give, based on the people’s occupation and home location. One pastor in the West cancelled a campaign because of this practice. His members were being told, “We believe God would want you to give $30,000,” or whatever amount.

Other firms take a decidedly low-key approach. If a person says he or she does not want to make a commitment to the program, the visitors are trained to say, “We understand. Not everyone will be able to give. We want you to know that we love you, and we know you’re joining with us in prayer that God will have his way in our church.”

Pastors can minimize hurt feelings by knowing ahead of time how a consultant approaches these visits and determining whether the congregation will feel comfortable with that approach.

“Victory Day” or “Victory Service.” Here the results of the campaign are announced and celebrated. This is held one or two weeks following the all-church gathering.

Follow-up. The church office sends each contributor an acknowledgment letter and special envelopes, and then, each quarter, a record of his or her contributions. The church also sends a monthly income report to the consulting firm so it can monitor progress.

The consulting firm gives the church materials for programs or bulletin inserts to help keep giving active over the three-year period. The biggest problem for churches in the follow-up period is families who move. Some churches hold mini-banquets every three or six months to explain the program to new people in the church and gain their support.

What Is Expected of the Pastor?

All consultants place high value on the pastor’s visible and verbal support of the campaign. “The pastor’s role is vital to the success of the campaign,” says Roy Austin, executive vice president of Resource Services, Inc. “The pastor is the leader, the spearhead.”

Most consultants let the amount of the pastor’s giving be his or her own decision, “hammered out on the anvil of prayer,” as one puts it. Some describe what other pastors have given as examples. But a few actually name specific dollar amounts. One pastor invited a firm to give a presentation to the church board. The next morning the pastor and consultant met for breakfast. As they sat down, the consultant said, “Pastor, for this thing to fly, you’ll have to tell your people you’re going to give at least $15,000 over the next three years.”

Again, pastors will want to know beforehand what the consultants’ approaches are.

How Do We Find the Right Consultant?

Pastors and consultants will be working closely together for several months, so it’s vital they see eye to eye. That means, first of all, the person needs to be a committed Christian and active in the local church. Beyond that, however, the consultant ought to mesh with the particular church.

“It’s helpful to consider the consultant a short-term staff member who should meet all the criteria you apply to anyone else on staff,” says Del Rogers. “Hire someone who can complement other people on staff, who holds the same basic Christian commitment and theological stance.”

Pastor Vic Pentz agrees: “We looked for a consultant who had been successful in churches similar to ours, who would feel at home with our general approach.” Because of this rule of thumb, some pastors choose to use their own denomination’s fund raisers rather than a private firm. On the other hand, one pastor who has worked with both private and denominational fund raisers said the private consultant was more forthright and had a better organized program. Another said, “Our denominational people just didn’t seem to hustle as hard.” So churches will need to evaluate each option carefully.

Once these basics have been established, pastors and boards ought to check the consultant’s experience and track record: how long they’ve been in the business, how much they’ve raised on average, the percentage of pledges that came in.

Pastors are wise to ask for references-and contact them. “Good consultants are more than willing to give you an extensive list of previous clients,” says Arthur Borden, president of the Evangelical Council for Financial Accountability. These references can tell whether the consultant reached their churches’ goals, and just as important, the methods they used. Did they promise more than they delivered, miscommunicate their fee or billing schedule, leave behind hard feelings?

One West Coast pastor who recently checked a consultant’s references found that in previous congregations the consultant had left a strong spiritual impact and people had come away with a firmer commitment to biblical stewardship. The pastor hired the consultant.

“I suggest to churches an old approach many mission boards have used to select missionaries,” says Del Rogers. “Ask the references for other people who have used the consultant but aren’t on the consultant’s list. Every consultant is going to list the best references. But when you ask those references for other references, you’re probably going to get a better picture.”

One church took this approach several years ago and found, on closer investigation, that some firms had averaged less than 60 percent of their pledges actually coming in. Again, this figure is only one part of the overall picture and may not be entirely the fault of the consultant. Maynard Nelson explains, “You can’t always blame the firm. Sometimes after they leave town, we pastors sigh with relief and say, ‘That program’s over; let’s get back to other areas of ministry.’ Sometimes we’re too busy to accept their counsel and do the follow-up.”

How Likely Is a Bad Experience?

Some pastors fear congregational backlash from a fund-raising venture, but usually those fears are unfounded. However, “there are always individuals who will claim some offense to justify why they’re not giving,” says a Midwest pastor who has led several campaigns. “One man in the congregation wrote me that he was not going to pledge until we changed the American flag to the right side in the front of the church.” But pastors usually report their members gave cheerfully and generously.

Other churches fear a capital-funds drive will siphon money from the general fund, but studies show this usually doesn’t happen.

Provided the consultant is selected carefully and the campaign is supported faithfully, the odds of having a bad experience are slim.

“I can’t really say I’ve had any bad experiences,” says Pastor Maynard Nelson, veteran of more than half a dozen campaigns. “Some consultants claimed better results than actually happened; others did not always communicate well. But in all cases, we raised not just dollars, but faith.”

Nelson’s church held a capital campaign several years ago to build a new building. After the three years were over, the church didn’t want to slack back. “After all, the building was only a tool for outreach,” says Nelson, “so we had another campaign to increase our missions giving.”

Most pastors who have held fund-raising ventures say the campaigns were times of renewed spiritual vigor in their congregations. People became more committed and united. Membership often grew. In the words of one pastor, “Stewardship and evangelism go hand in hand.”

Kevin A. Miller is associate editor of LEADERSHIP.

RAISING THE MONEY YOURSELF

I have never been a fund raiser. I know pastors who seem to thrive on this challenge, but I am not one of them. Asking people to give more is hard for me. Nevertheless, I have been through many building programs and one relocation project, and we have always found the money to meet the need. If you decide, as we did, not to use an outside fund raiser, here are a few plans for raising building funds.

Save special gifts until you can cover the entire cost. It can be done, and I’ve read of others doing it, though we have never tried at Los Gatos Christian.

The reason we decided against this system is because at the same time money is being set aside, inflation is adding to the cost of the building and you are physically stifling your growth. When we built our first building, it would have taken ten years to save the money for the projected cost. By that time, the cost of the building would have tripled, and we would have had to borrow twice the amount at much higher interest rates, and for ten years we wouldn’t have been able to minister to all the people we could handle with the new facility.

Raise as much cash as you can and borrow the rest from a lending institution. The main rule to follow is to keep your payments within 25 percent of your total expenses. And never depend on expected numerical and financial growth to make the payments. No debt should be incurred that the present congregation can’t handle.

When obtaining a loan, I have discovered the following must be in hand, although some banks may not require all this information:

An up-to-date audit.

Average weekly attendance over the previous five years.

Income and expenses over the previous five years.

A copy of the Standard Form of Agreement between the owner and contractor.

A debt-service schedule.

A copy of your latest balance sheet.

A copy of your latest budget.

An outline of any capital-giving programs.

A list of all church officers and their respective titles, terms of office, and occupations.

Demographic and geographic data on present membership: ages, residential areas, and occupations.

Forecast data on projected membership increases and giving over the next five years.

Before a formal application was made, we have invited the bankers to our offices to give them a tour of the property and introduce them to staff. They got a feel for the life and strength of our organization just by a visit.

We have never obtained a loan by having a few wealthy members cosign. I hope we never have to. The entire congregation is standing behind it, not a few with wealth.

Borrow the money from members and friends of the church and pay them a reasonable return. I like this plan. There are organizations in every state that help churches borrow from their members.

Members buy notes. Interest compounds on them, and they are paid off at various maturity dates, specifically spelled out and agreed upon. A certain percentage come due and are paid off by the church each year.

This plan allows, even forces, members to set aside money for their own future, for college, future trips, or other long-range plans. No “run on the bank” can jeopardize the church security. Notes are legally required to be paid off only on the date of maturity and not before. We have a policy, though, of reselling notes for members who “have to have their money.”

It seems better to pay interest to our members than to a bank. With an investment in the church, they tend to be more loyal and concerned about the entire ministry.

The important thing is to build so as to reach more people for Christ. We’ve found it best to build only after adding multiple sessions while growing, but when the time comes to build, to not delay, and to not be afraid to challenge people to give.

-Marvin G. Rickard

Los Gatos (California) Christian Church

Adapted with permission from Let it Grow ((c)1984 Marvin G. Rickard, published by Multnomah Press, Portland, OR 97266).

Copyright © 1987 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Pastors

TROUBLE AND TENACITY DOWN ON THE FARM

From the pulpit, some pastors gaze not upon a cathedral or even a rustic church in the wildwood, but upon a sanctuary still blotched by ceiling stains from the big ice storm two years ago. Their members may arrive wafting not Chanel No. 5, but Guernsey No. 2. When the guys discuss the weather after church, it’s not to check conditions for the first tee but because that last ten acres of alfalfa need one more day of sun. Church growth has more to do with Dr. Spock than Peter Wagner. A choir is something that sang at Jesus’ birth; special music is the two Jones girls.

Such congregations have history; they have tradition, roots, blood ties. What they don’t have is many members. Odds are they have less than fifty.

I’m talking about the thousands of rural congregations spread across North America, most of them similar to the small Mennonite congregation I served as pastoral elder for six years. Nearly 20 percent of church adherents attend such a fellowship.

Rural realities

Bucolic images of sewing bees and church potlucks still partially conform to rural realities, but a disturbing new factor is adding a painful twist to rural ministry. Farmers are in the midst of financial, spiritual, and emotional stresses unknown since the Great Depression. Agriculture is in desperate straits, as those pastoring rural congregations know all too well.

One farm leader claims twenty-one hundred U.S. farmers are quitting every week, some voluntarily, but many because of bankruptcies. The small congregation I served had, over a five-year period, one farmer drastically downsize his operation, two go bankrupt (one twice), and one voluntarily quit. Although all still attend church somewhere, only one is left in that church, and at least one left the church because of interpersonal tensions generated by the bankruptcy.

In today’s farm crisis, every rural congregation will have families whose inheritance from God and their hard-working ancestors is disintegrating before their eyes. It will not be passed on to their children.

I know a young farmer whose bankruptcy by modern standards was minimal-about $65,000. Even after several years, he says the pain is just starting to recede. Farmers link failure with character fault.

They feel guilt for mismanagement, even if there was none. They feel anger: “If we didn’t love the soil so much, we’d refuse to grow any more cheap food for a society that takes us for granted.” And despair: “If God loves us, why has he forsaken us? Our land is a family inheritance and a gift from God. Why would he take it back?”

What does the gospel have to say to people when bankruptcy is taking away years of blood, sweat, and tears? What does a pastor offer to families who are losing everything due to economic forces beyond their comprehension, let alone their control?

As a farmer myself, I’ve found several keys to pastoring in today’s rural setting.

Thinking rural

I recall an urban pastor hired in one of our sister congregations. It didn’t impress church members that their minister didn’t start his day until 9:30. Even though he worked until midnight, that pattern just didn’t fit. If persons going overseas are prepared for the host culture and inner-city clergy sensitize their social consciences, we can orient pastors into rural churches.

I need to think like my rural parishioners. While this has always been true, the current farm crisis makes it more urgent. I need to weep with farmers who are weeping, and that won’t happen unless I see things through their eyes.

A good starting point is a review of the theology of Creation, which places high value on the land, on economic justice, and on the immanence of the Creator with his handiwork. A farmer may not know of Jacques Ellul’s critique of cities, but he or she will instinctively agree that the Garden of Eden reflects God’s sovereign relationship to the natural order.

Farmers believe they play a unique role as stewards of the environment, and often are penalized financially for doing so. They resent a system that, because farm prices are too low to provide for normal retirement savings, demands their land to capitalize retirement, thus placing debt loads on the next generation. In short, to think like a Christian farmer means understanding the Scriptures as a word from the One with whom they presently co-create.

Being sensitive to feelings of failure

Improbable as it may seem to pressured pastors, farmers regard clergy as secure professionals for whom failure is a flat sermon that can be redeemed next week. Contrast that with the farmer here in Ontario, who, in extricating his $100,000 combine from a muddy field, literally split it into two pieces. The next morning he committed suicide.

It is not just the high rollers, poor managers, and land speculators staring financial problems in the face. Believers are experiencing their own private Gethsemanes, and the pastoral traits needed are vulnerability and empathy. When I met with a bankrupted couple and their two sets of parents to try to sort out what needed to be done next, the scene was not unlike that in a funeral home. A farm death had occurred. I had few wise words to offer, but amid the tears, I found opportunity to empathize and carry some of the burden.

Another financially stressed farm wife said, “I wish the Lord would return to take us out of this.” She wasn’t asking for my eschatological opinion of the odds Christ would return in time to render the bank’s loan call irrelevant. I heard her asking me to understand the depth of anxiety she felt.

Although financial failure and its fallout cannot always be reversed, I want to work to make its spiritual impact redemptive. Farmers who fail (like anyone else) need help to understand that personal worth and net worth stand as two different realities in God’s eyes.

Providing help

A third key to pastoring in such a setting is to create appropriate help structures. A wide range of ministries are possible: cell groups to deal with spiritual, emotional, and psychological needs; referrals to crisis counseling services; and in some cases, financial mutual-aid systems. In a previous generation, most farm disasters could be solved through barn raisings or work sharing, but individualism now virtually condemns troubled farmers to a lonely fate. That’s why pastors often step in to launch needed ministries.

As in all ministry, a proactive stance carries built-in risks. In a bankruptcy counseling session, the farmer’s wife “asked” (read: accused) the would-be helpers why, as her husband’s friends, we had not warned him of his precarious situation. In another case, the person receiving management assistance resented the perceived hierarchy and passively resisted both the helpers and the help.

Yet, as a pastor, I don’t see any alternative, apart from a hands-off attitude, to ministering as best I can in these painful circumstances. Paul made perhaps five trips to Jerusalem to deal with the plight of the poor. What more explicit model could I have of how I am to function?

All pastoring does not need to be done by pastors, however. Our congregation formed a mutual-aid committee. Much burden bearing happened in that committee. While I knew generally what was happening, I did not know all the specifics of the committee’s plans to raise non-interest loans to deal with debts. In this instance, the committee’s task was abetted by a denominational credit union that provided the necessary financial and legal structure for underwriting these loans.

Mediating God’s love and grace

As God’s agent I can bring a word of hope: Even bankruptcy cannot separate us from the love of God. The New Testament’s death-resurrection motif speaks powerfully to the farmer’s situation. Even in Jesus’ death, God was present. When by human evaluation disaster strikes, God is even then fashioning a better way. I have to help people face the hard questions of debt, refinancing, and new starts, but is it coincidental that salvation language comes from the marketplace, giving us the word redemption?

Today there is as much opportunity for creative, cutting-edge ministry in rural as in urban settings. Granted, it’s next to impossible to erect large plants or find senior status if my only staff is me. Instead, there’s just plain hard work, compounded by agriculture’s downturn.

Jesus faced great challenges in his ministry in the rural, subsistence villages of Galilee. And great challenges await those today who minister in similar rural situations. But as we follow his example, we can bring genuine comfort and help.

-Lawrence Burkholder

Rouge Valley Mennonite Church

Markham, Ontario

Copyright © 1987 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Pastors

THE PASTOR AS BOSS

Can the same person be tender shepherd and tough supervisor?

Although I’ll use the pronoun, not all secretaries are she; I know, because twice I have served as one.

I have also been on the other side of the boss-secretary equation, ministering alongside the senior pastor in a large congregation. Presently I manage a full range of associates at Seattle Pacific University.

So I know what it is like to be handed work, and to assign it; I have been pastored by my boss, and I have cared for my associates. Seeing office life from both sides, I realize good relationships don’t come easily.

It is particularly challenging to work on a church staff-in any capacity. The work itself may not make the job difficult; answering phones or sending correspondence or doing custodial work is really no different in a church setting than it is (or at least should be) in the business world. It’s the nature of the boss that may create difficulties, for the workers’ boss is also their pastor. The one who proclaims God’s Word to them and serves them Communion also monitors their performance and hands them assignments. Where does a secretary go when she wants prayer for her job? Where does a custodian seek counsel when things are strained with his boss? Most can share their difficulties with a pastor. But what if the boss is the pastor?

And that boss, the pastor, faces this prospect: how to maintain a professional relationship with a coworker in a pastoral setting. This is as true for the pastor who receives voluntary help from parishioners as it is for the pastor who has a dozen on staff. Integrating those two relationships-the pastoral and the professional-proves a difficult task. As a result, sometimes the church staff-which spends more time with the pastor than nearly anyone else, and works most closely with the pastor-goes without pastoral care.

One of the ironies of this situation is that we are only as good as our support staff. Typing that report for the deacons, laying your hands on a copy of that letter sent seven months ago, sprucing up the sanctuary for a special gathering, finding out what other churches are doing about a specific problem-the pastor doesn’t have time to do all this. The pastor can look only as good as his or her assistants allow.

It becomes critical, then, that the assistant appreciates the church product-pastoral care. The secretary needs to experience the same pastoral care pastors give to all the other consumers. That’s why I, as a Christian leader, try not to get caught giving work and not care to my associates. I don’t want to leave them hurting, only to have them hear from some student how understanding I have been.

What kind of encouragement are our assistants looking for? In what shape will pastoral care come? Let me offer a few suggestions from my experience wearing both sets of shoes. Given the wide range of tasks assistants face-clerical, program, ministerial, custodial-these suggestions are surprisingly universal.

Affirmation

People like to be told they’re doing a good job. Yet many staff members toil under the unspoken axiom, “Work for the Lord is its own encouragement.” There certainly is a sense of satisfaction peculiar to church work, but this doesn’t negate the pastoral effectiveness of kind words along the way. Often the best time for affirmation is when the person least expects it.

I recall my first day at a new secretarial job. My boss wanted me to type a complicated survey on the office’s word processor. I had never used a word processor before, but eager to show I belonged there, I set upon the survey with a vengeance. I worked and worked, and three drafts, fifty-seven pages, and two weeks later, I finished the survey only to hear my boss had decided to abandon the whole project.

How did I feel? Not particularly overjoyed. But a few words from my boss rescued me from the land of the livid. After apologizing for his change of mind (wonderful from a boss!), he told me he had never before seen work done so quickly and professionally in that office. He welcomed me to the team and looked forward to our working together. Believe me, I well remember that survey and my boss’s praise, and I enjoyed working for him.

Now that I’m a boss, I try to retain that lesson. About once a month, I write half-page notes of appreciation to my secretary and assistant. I make sure the affirmation in the notes is sincere. When my assistant told me he has saved all his notes over the year, it affirmed me!

I’ve heard people say it takes ten words of praise to balance one word of criticism. If this is true, then those of us with assistants want to add to the affirmation side of the scale as often as possible.

We appreciate affirmation all the more when it is spoken in the hearing of others. Brian, my first assistant at Seattle Pacific University, was such a crackerjack worker that I told him several times I ought to quit so he could have my job. As it turned out, I did shift into another area, and Brian assumed most of my old work.

Whenever we would go to conferences and be asked about our jobs, I would respond: “Brian does all the work, and I get all the credit. ” In truth, I did do a good deal of work, but that little tongue-in-cheek answer opened up the conversation so I could communicate that my assistant was one of my most treasured resources.

Think of what happens when we affirm an assistant publicly: we model affirmation; we encourage the assistant; we minister to the hearer-three doses of pastoral care in one serving. How apt, therefore, is a timely word of praise.

Credit Where Credit Is Due

I would not be very pastoral if I allowed people to think I do everything myself. (I’m most tempted to act this way when everything is going smoothly.) It’s my job to make it clear that I have help, I appreciate it, and I am not threatened by it.

I once dropped in Brian’s lap the responsibility of determining the feasibility of a disability awareness week at Seattle Pacific. From that one suggestion, he produced a torrent of ideas and plans for a three-day emphasis on issues surrounding the needs of disabled persons. He even found a way to make the week pay for itself. So off we went, and the three days were a solid success.

A week or so later, one of my colleagues thanked me for the events our office had planned. What should I have said? After all, a disability awareness week was my idea. I thanked my colleague for his kind words, and then I added, “Be sure to thank Brian. He did it all.”

I didn’t deserve the credit; Brian did. I wanted him to receive the credit he rightfully earned. Since all glory ultimately belongs to God, I can afford to step aside and give credit to my assistants. Besides, an occasional tip of the hat in the direction of an assistant encourages and inspires others to lend their help.

Personal Concern

One pastor I worked for would often initiate a conversation with the question, “How’s your soul?” I knew exactly what he meant. He wasn’t asking, “Were you in the Word today?” He was saying, “I want to know how you are doing today. Tell me.”

I felt free to tell him-whether I was feeling on top of the world or the world on top of me-and he took the time to hear my heart. More times than not, he would pray with me. I was always eager to give that pastor my best.

In our office, 2 P.M. on Tuesdays is set aside for my secretary, my assistant, and me to get together. We rotate who leads that time, and we normally include some time of affirmation as well as a time for sharing prayer requests. We’ve had fun together. Once we had a picnic in my office, complete with a checkered tablecloth. Another time we wrote our official office song. We’ve bled together, too, sharing the pain of relatives who are far from the Lord and of relationships gone sour.

On those Tuesdays, we’re working on being fully human in our workplace-laughter, tears, and all. We marvel at how much lighter our work becomes at 2:30 when we have succeeded.

I don’t want to be the type who has no clue to the difficulties-personal and professional-my assistants endure. Considering we major in expressing love and concern in our ministries, I plan to start with my own staff.

Boundaries, Forgiveness, and Correction

Paul says he would not have known what sin is unless the Law had told him (Rom. 7:7). Paul was grateful for the explanation of what is acceptable and what is not. The law set up boundaries against which he could compare his performance.

Employers sometimes find their assistants guilty of “sins” of which employees were unaware. I had a friend who enjoyed a new secretarial job immensely, only to be reached at home one morning and told not to show up for work anymore. Apparently her boss did not take kindly to her asking him when he would return from outside appointments. The sad thing was, her boss never told her he disliked this practice. She didn’t know the boundaries, and when she crossed them, she crossed him.

As bosses, we need to set boundaries within which our assistants can move with confidence. For example, do I expect my secretary to open all my mail? Under what circumstances is an associate allowed to interrupt a counseling appointment? What is my understood deadline for a long-term project?

Little practices gone wrong cause much unnecessary friction. It is a matter of pastoral care to let an assistant know what is expected of him or her in an assignment. If we leave the boundaries unclear, we need to be mature enough to take the blame when failures result.

Even when boundaries are given, assistants sometimes will goof. The letter is not mailed in time. That crucial phone call is not made. Your explicit instructions are lost. The information that Mrs. Tipton is ill does not get to you. To err is human; to forgive, hard.

Here’s where I must retain a view of the product: pastoral care. Since that product involves the dispensing of forgiveness, to be a pastor to my staff, I must offer forgiveness when wrong is done.

Yet, implicit with forgiveness there needs to be correction. Correction is not punitive, like the action of my friend’s boss. To correct means to make right. To forgive and forget sounds nice, but it sets up the likely possibility of running into the same frustrations later. Therefore, I try to lay out a scheme to avoid such pitfalls, so that both my associate and I can walk away confident about the future.

In my first secretarial job, I worked for a wonderful, godly man who owned a small pharmaceutical company in Southern California. One day I received a phone order from a customer in North Carolina for fifty boxes of one of our products. In checking our inventory, I discovered we had only four boxes to send. After verifying with me that this was a bona fide order for fifty boxes, my boss corralled every worker he could find and strained to manufacture the needed medicines with all due speed. Two weeks later we sent all fifty boxes across the United States to fill our customer’s order. Everyone was elated, and I was the most elated of all. After all, I took the order.

The next week our customer from North Carolina called. “What’s in all these cartons?”

“It’s the fifty boxes of medicine you ordered.”

“It is? Well, how many items are in each box?”

Right then I knew I was in trouble. Each box contained twenty-five vials of medicine. Our customer wanted fifty of those vials-two boxes. We had sent him 1,250 vials. My mistake caused us to spend money on chemicals, manpower, and shipping-both ways-that our little company didn’t have. I was quite shaken.

If my boss was equally shaken-and he had good cause-he didn’t show it. Instead, he looked at me with my tail tucked between my legs, and he shrugged it off as a learning experience, a 1,200-vial learning experience.

Together we worked out procedures to insure that kind of mistake would be unlikely to happen again. The memory of those fifty boxes still lives in my mind. So does the memory of a boss who was kind enough to forgive me and help me do a better job. I have a bias here: forgiveness must precede correction. Many assistants-like myself in the pharmaceutical company-will condemn themselves long before the boss gets a chance. I find it intriguing that Jesus forgave the woman caught in adultery before he corrected her ways.

Opportunities to Stretch

Church work is filled with routine. Bulletins come out every Sunday. Boards and committees meet on the second and fourth Tuesdays. The ministerial association gathers for lunch on the third Wednesday. The church crew faces a bushel of monotonous work. If this were the only fare an assistant digests, the level of indigestion in the Lord’s work would shock no one.

But the work of the Lord is supposed to stretch people. If I want my assistants to experience this, every now and then I need to plot some tasks that break them out of the rut of routine goings-on in the office, even if it means incorporating an element of risk.

I once worked alongside a secretary who had to master the church computer when the pastor gave her an assignment that relied on the computer’s resources. After an initial period of What in the world am I doing? she took to her task with relish. In fact, one day I caught her after hours practicing all the new things she had learned.

I’m not talking about busywork. On the contrary, every worker needs the sense that what he is doing is of vital importance. Neither am I talking about intimidation: “Do it on the computer or else!” But I do need to sit down and evaluate the workload of my helpers for possible revision.

Are there any new responsibilities he can assume? What would be some useful skills for her to learn? Would a professional seminar be of value? Providing such novel additions takes planning and foresight. I have to want to do it or it won’t get done.

It also involves risk: What if the employee wants to leave to explore these skills further? But risk is, in a way, the essence of pastoral care-the act of laying down one’s life for another. I want the best for my associates, and I think I’ll benefit in the long run as they develop new and interesting skills. If I extend pastoral care to my support staff, it involves the inclusion of nonroutine tasks.

Willingness to Let Go

It is most difficult to see a valued assistant leave for another post. Although we may sometimes entertain ideas of being betrayed at times like this, how much better it is to view this as an opportunity to release an individual to grander things.

I worked for over a year as the administrative assistant to the senior pastor of a large church. From him I received many helpful lessons, but I eventually outgrew my responsibilities. Lateral movement was impossible, so I had two choices: stay on and endure, or leave and risk. I did not want to leave the church; I had grown up there, giving thirteen years of my life and love to those people. But it was time for me to go.

My boss, the pastor, helped nudge this fledgling out of that secure nest into a wide world of promise and opportunity. At the time I didn’t much appreciate that nudge, and my boss was not all that happy to see me leave, but we both are the richer for our letting go of one another. We still keep in touch, valuing one another’s ministries and appreciating our friendship.

There are times when love hangs on. There are other times when love lets go. We may hate to see key parishioners move, but if it is for good reasons, such hate is mingled with love. So also there comes a time to let go of our assistants, as painful as this is.

To know when that time has arrived is a matter of prayer for both parties, but when it comes, the result will be growth for the assistant-and for the pastor as well.

Yes, I believe a boss can be pastoral and a pastor can be boss. They are two separate roles, but with a little thought and compassion, one person, guided by the Holy Spirit, can fulfill both functions.

But now that I’ve written it, I’m in real trouble: my secretary is bound to read this article.

Steve Swayne is director of student ministries at Seattle Pacific University in Seattle, Washington.

Copyright © 1987 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Pastors

HOW TO GIVE GOOD ADVICE

Some people want you to listen; others genuinely want you to speak.

I was having lunch with a psychologist who offers her services part-time to her church. As we talked, she was asking me questions about her cases.

Finally I said, “This is ludicrous. I’ve never studied counseling a day in my life. I’m a businessman, and you’re a Ph.D. in psychology, the head of a clinic. Why are you asking me?”

“There’s a difference between counseling and asking for advice,” she said. “I come to you for good advice.”

I was intrigued with her distinction, and reflecting on it, I think it’s an important one. Sometimes, I suspect, we confuse the two functions.

Advice is suggesting a specific action within a specific time frame, and it deals with factual things: purchases, job changes, decisions.

Counsel is guidance toward a better relationship, attitude, or lifestyle-things that can’t be quantified or tightly scheduled. For instance, counselors can’t promise, “You’ll have a handle on your depression within two months.” When a person wants advice, however, one of the best questions is “How much time do you have to make a decision?”

Often the best counselors are not good advisers. The two functions require different information, experience, and responsibilities. I have a friend who is an excellent investment adviser, but he would be lost trying to counsel a strained marriage. He understands markets, not emotions.

It helps to know which you can do. A man called me recently and said, “Can I talk to you?” We met for lunch, and after an hour, I said, “There’s no point in talking further, because I’ve told you all you can hear.” I cut him short, not to be rude but because he’d asked for advice, I’d given it, and he didn’t want to follow it. 1 know I’m not a counselor, who ministers by listening and helping people work through doubts and fears and habitual problems.

Interestingly, the man called me about three days later. “You kicked me in the pants, and I want to thank you. I finally did what you suggested. It was what I needed to do.”

Counseling is a valuable ministry, but giving advice is a different thing.

What Advice Is Not

Counseling is not the only function that gets confused with giving good advice. Here are some other things advice is not.

Advice is not offering an evaluation. Recently I asked for help with a manuscript and got a letter of “editorial criticism.” Good analysis. Justifiable criticism. But it was not advice. The person gave me some general observations. I needed specific directions. Criticism identifies the problems; advice tells you how to fix them.

Advice is not giving inspiration. Inspiration is wonderful; it makes us feel we can do whatever we set our minds to. Advice or guidance, on the other hand, shows us what to do and tells us we’ll fail if we don’t do certain things. So you don’t find guidance books very popular. The instructions are specific; they call for action. But inspirational books sell.

Advice is not making reflective statements. It is not theoretical musing. Advice concerns one specific matter. Should I buy this house? This car? Should I divorce my wife? Where should my kids go to school? Advice offers a specific answer to a specific question.

Advice is not training. Training offers principles; advice offers techniques. Advice is not “guiding someone’s thinking process.” The goal is for a person to take action, to make one good decision. If you’re riding with someone and giving directions to your house, you say, “Turn here.” You don’t say, “Of these three options, which do you think is best?” and through a long process let him discover he’s missed the street. Often we can be most helpful to certain people just by giving the right answer.

Yes, people come to pastors for counseling or evaluation or training or just to have someone listen. Many times advice would not be well received. But other times people genuinely want advice.

Can I Give Advice?

In order to know whether I can give advice, I ask myself three questions: Do I know enough about the situation? Am I qualified? Do I see viable options to recommend?

Here’s a recent case in point. A rather frantic middle-aged man met me at a reception and said, “Can I ask your advice?” I could see some desperation in his eyes. “My boss has made a decision that’s wrong. And unless he changes it, I’m going to quit. What do you think?” I sensed he was ready for a straight answer.

“Is it the boss’s right to make the decision?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Does he know you think he’s wrong?”

“Sure.”

“Do you very often go in and usurp his desk, or do you let him have his own office?”

“Well,” he said, “I let him have his own office.”

“Then don’t you think you ought to give him the authority to make the decisions he’s responsible for? Unless you want to embezzle your boss’s authority and lose your job, I suggest you let your boss make his own decisions.”

The next week he wrote me a two-page letter thanking me for going to the heart of the problem. All I wanted was to keep him from resigning the next morning or sparking an ugly confrontation. I didn’t care if he said, “Smith told me not to” or “I decided not to.i’ That wasn’t as important as what he actually did (or didn’t do). In this man’s case, I felt I could give advice because he asked me about business, an area in which I’m qualified, and I saw he had a viable option: to stay where he was.

Pastors are often asked for advice, and as I’ve thought about it, the great advice givers I have known have all had some common qualities: the right motive, the required facts, a healthy intuition, and experience. And they’ve known how to combine these ingredients to come up with good advice.

The Right Motive

More bad advice emerges from bad motives than from bad judgment.

Often I see advice given that comes from a motive of keeping another person dependent. I recently met a middle-aged man who is still controlled by his father. His father is strong and capable but has never wanted his children to be self-sufficient. He’s structured their lives so they’re dependent on him financially and emotionally. They live well, but they’re desperately afraid they couldn’t continue without their father making all their major decisions. I said to myself, His father has him tied by a gold chain. A gold chain is difficult to break. Any advice the son gets from his father needs to be understood in light of the father’s desire to remain chief of the clan.

In churches, some pastors give the impression that you must come to them for the correct interpretation of Scripture, that it’s impossible to read and understand the Bible for yourself. They keep people dependent, preventing them from gaining confidence in their own ability to know God. To me, it’s dishonest to create a dependent relationship out of an opportunity to help.

There are other improper motives. For example, I’ve known people whose major concern was protecting their own reputation, so they give ambivalent messages. Some economists are guilty of this. Like the Oracles of Delphi, the advice can later be interpreted either way. To me, this means a person wants to look smart but not be responsible for the advice. Or it may mean the advice giver doesn’t want to say, “I don’t know.” Sometimes the best advice I can give is “Ask somebody else.” It is humbling, but it does show honest motives.

Other people are advicaholics, compelled to give advice, to demonstrate their knowledge. Generally they’re not satisfied with themselves, so they dish out directions to others. Sitting in the stands, they tell the quarterback how to run the game. The player can’t hear the counsel, but they give it anyway. They’re not helping at all. They’re simply displaying their knowledge, which is a bad motive.

The right motive: simply a desire to help others- giving help that truly is help.

The Required Facts

Since the facts are so essential to good advice, I not only ask for them but test them. I’ve learned that the facts are not always apparent. Often they’re colored by anxiety and supposition.

I must feel confident that I have the necessary facts and not just a fictionalized account of the situation. Often I’ll ask a person to repeat certain parts of the story to see if the details and emotions come out the same.

I’ll also try to determine the elements on which others depend. For instance, people often ask if they should quit their jobs. My first question is “Do you have another to go to?” Rarely should a person leave a job without another one lined up.

So I don’t hesitate to ask questions about the facts I need to improve the advice.

Healthy Intuition

Another ingredient to giving good advice is healthy intuition. Developing your imagination is the key step here, because intuition requires you to draw up an imaginary scenario from present to future. It sounds technical, but it’s not.

Fred Smith is president of Fred Smith Associates, Dallas, Texas.

Quite often someone tells me what he’s planning, and I say, “I could never see you doing that.” He’s just violated my scenario for him. Or I might say, “I can see you doing this very effectively.”

Intuition is the ability to imagine the possible scenarios and see the one that is the most practical, the most attractive, the most profitable. Imagination enters because there may be several scenarios to choose from, and it’s important to see them all to find the best, the one that fits just a little better. It’s like buying a suit of clothes. You try on three or four suits, any one of which would be okay, but one makes you look a little better.

My wife often says, “I don’t like this dress because it’s not me.” She has a scenario of what she ought to look like. She buys clothes that fit her image.

In giving advice, it’s important to see the scenario from the other person’s viewpoint, not your own. It must be logical to that person, not necessarily to you. If it’s logical to you but not to the other, and if you base your advice on it, the person will never fit himself into it or carry it out. Part of intuition is to think, What value structure is this person operating from?

I was listening to a documentary on India. I’ve never desired to visit India because of the overwhelming poverty, and I was intrigued to hear an Indian lawyer interviewed. He was asked, “You’re a wealthy man. How can you see poverty-stricken people every day and never do anything for them?’

“Why should I?” he said. “A thousand births ago I was one of them, and in a thousand deaths they will be me.” To him it was perfect logic. That is how he dealt with their poverty and his own wealth. Giving advice to such a person would have to involve using his scenario as a starting point.

Scenarios and intuition, of course, can be subjective and inaccurate. As a Christian, I would take issue with that lawyer. It’s possible to have selfdeceiving scenarios. That’s why we need to develop healthy intuition. Because of my ancestor Adam, I’ve inherited a fallen human nature that is unable to be totally honest, but because of Christ’s influence in my life, I’m able not to be dishonest with myself.

That’s not double talk. It simply means if we examine ourselves carefully, we can usually recognize the prejudices and preferences that might throw off our intuition.

It also means we can guard ourselves from corrupting influences. One of the most common today, for instance, is a misunderstanding of tolerance. If I observe that someone is not working up to speed, some dear soul will tell me, “You shouldn’t be critical.” It isn’t a matter of being critical; it’s a matter of being honest. Good intuition requires you to stay as honest and objective as you can. You have to be careful to keep your own heart in good condition, because your heart is more powerful than your mind in affecting your intuition.

Wine tasters have to protect their taste buds. They won’t eat garlic or other strong spices because they want to taste the wine honestly. People who have to match color hues don’t stay up all night watching TV. They protect their eyes. Intuition has to be protected the same way-from hostilities, prejudices, and negative, cancerous emotions. You want to know when you are seeing things clearly.

Many times intuition is based on observation of body language, attitude, or choice of clothes.

Once I was with a father and son during a tense confrontation. I felt the young man was lying. When I eventually said so, he admitted it. He later told his father, “That man can read minds!” No, I can’t read minds, but I noticed he had a tic in his face every time he got on a certain subject. My eyes saw the tic. My intuition perceived the spirit.

Others have done the same with me. At a social occasion, I was conversing with a psychiatrist. He was pressing me on a particular business point. I didn’t know much about it, but I figured he knew even less, so I was talking like an expert. He kept challenging me.

Later I asked him, “Why did you keep pushing me like that?”

“Because you didn’t know what you were talking about,” he laughed.

“How did you know?” I asked. “That’s a business subject. You’re no businessman.”

“Simple,” he said. “The level of your voice changed. You became nervous, and you raised the intensity of your vocal tone.”

He was absolutely right about my bluffing. Part of it was observation, but part of it was his healthy intuition.

Experience

While speaking at a retreat for young career people, I often heard them say, “I need an older friend.” Upon investigating further, I found what they meant was, ‘At times I really need advice from someone with experience.”

What does it mean to benefit from someone else’s experience? Experience tempers our intuition and helps apply it. There are several areas in which experience becomes valuable in giving advice.

Experience helps us know how much people can accomplish. It doesn’t do any good to give advice to someane who is incapable of following it. Telling a polio victim how to run a marathon is cruel. Advice must be tailored to a person’s capabilities. Many times people don’t know their own limits.

Every spring break, a number of college kids are killed because, under the influence of drugs and alcohol, they think they can jump from one building to the next. Good advice is based on what experience has shown the person can do and how much effort the person will put into something.

If a person has never read the Bible two days in a row, it would be a mistake to advise him to start a year-long reading schedule. You would be setting him up for failure. Until you see the desire, drive, and character develop, it would be better to say, “Why don’t you try to read the Gospels this month?” Or set up something every day for a week. We don’t give advice to create failures. We give advice to create successes.

Experience helps us work with emotions. There are times when advice can be straightforward and other times when it needs to be indirect. If no major emotional issues are involved, advice can be given directly. When there is some overriding emotional barrier to carrying out the advice-such as hostility or doubt or fear-the indirect approach is probably best. This, of course, is what the prophet Nathan used when he confronted David about his sin with sathsheba. He told a story so he could get to his conclusion before the king grew angry and threw him out.

You also see this with golf caddies. When a golfer is doubtful about what club to use, the good caddy will confidently hand him one and say, “Just make a smooth swing.” He gets the golfer’s mind off whether or not he’s got the right club. He knows the most important thing is concentrating on hitting the ball well. Sometimes after the golfer swings, the caddy will mutter, “Be the right stick! Be the right stick!” But before the swing, his advice is indirect to prevent emotional ambivalence.

Sometimes I meet a person who knows what to do but is afraid. He simply needs buttressing. A blunt Don’t be afraid” isn’t very helpful. In situations like this, I often tell a story. For instance: “I was talking to a young man just like you-smart, quick, ambitious, going to go a long way. But he was stumped by a major decision. He questioned whether the timing was right, whether he was capable. I suspected it was more a matter of fearing the unknown than timing or capability. I told him so, he made the decision, and he didn’t regret it.” Other times I’ll offer a verse of Scripture or a quotation from Shakespeare. If a person has doubts, an indirect word is often all that’s necessary. I call this my “billiard advice”-my bank shots.

Experience lets us know when not to give advice. Advice must be given in the area of our experience.

One common mistake, for instance, is assuming that because we know Scripture, we’re qualified to extrapolate Scripture onto a specific business decision. But knowledge of the Bible doesn’t qualify a person to give advice on a particular mutual fund. Again, advice means one situation, one time, one action.

Inexperience is a curable trait. But until you gain experience in a particular area, it’s usually best not to give advice. If you needed surgery and went to a doctor, you’d want to know if he’d ever done this particular operation before. If he didn’t tell you, you’d have a right to be upset.

In giving advice, there’s nothing wrong with being honest. I often use the phrase, “I’m really not the person you ought to ask.” Recently when I was asked for advice about a financial matter, I said, “I’m sorry. I’m not current on that.” I could have offered general statements about it, but the person wanted advice for a particular situation. So I politely suggested she find someone who was current.

My Advice for Advice Givers

Here is some advice for potential advice givers.

Analyze your experiences. While experience is a valuable tool, it can also lead to bad advice if you don’t know how to use it. Some experiences get tangled in nostalgia, and memories distort facts. If you listen to old ballplayers, you know what I mean. Some of the longest home runs were hit by men who never got to the majors. For experience to be helpful, you have to know what actually happened.

In addition, we have to be careful because there’s a great desire in most of us to repeat our successes. But few situations are identical, and we cannot assume the differences are unimportant. For instance, you successfully raised money in one church, and you try to do it the same way in the next church. But the personalities are different, the environment is different, the times are different. And the campaign flops.

The antidote is to analyze your experiences, to know why something worked. This means knowing the circumstances, the people involved, the aims, and what the times were. When you’re able to analyze the relevant factors and distinguish the transferable from the peculiar, you can apply experience correctly.

One key is to determine what can be repeated and what was merely a fluke. For example, you can win against the odds, but not often. When you beat the odds, if you’re smart, you’ll admit it and not advise others to try the same thing.

Playing golf one day, I hit a ball out of bounds to the left, but it hit an iron gate and bounced onto the green. I don’t tell many people to practice that shot. It was pure luck. I had a friend who hit a ball into a tree, and it bounced in for a hole in one. If he tells his partners to hit into the tree and the ball may bounce into the hole, he’s playing against the odds. That happened once. Experience isn’t a virtue unless you learn to keep the odds with you.

Offer advice only when asked. I try not to volunteer advice, because I’ve found people usually aren’t ready to act until they’re ready to ask.

If a person honestly asks you for advice, it’s usually because he has reason to believe you’ll give good advice. Such a person is much more likely to benefit from you than someone who didn’t ask.

Some people, of course, ask for “advice” when all they want is commendation. If you tell them what you really think, they’re liable to maim you!

Usually intuition will tell you which kind of person you’re dealing with, but if I’m in doubt, I may inquire, “How many people have you asked about this?” If it’s more than two or three, I begin to suspect the person is either afraid to make a decision or else wants only commendation.

Give only advice that can be used immediately. Ralph Cordiner, former president of General Electric, was once talking about communications, and he said, “Communications are like supplies. If you’ve got an employee putting nuts and bolts in an appliance, you never give him more nuts and bolts than he can use.” And you never give anybody more advice than he can use immediately. No matter how many ideas you have and how much you’d like to tell him, resist the temptation to tell it all. Chances are, you will only confuse the person.

How do you decide which piece of advice to give?

Think through the problem and find the key log. When loggers clear a logjam, the foolish ones start at the edge of the jam and start moving logs until things loosen up. The smart logger, however, climbs a tall tree and locates the key log, blows it, and lets the stream do the rest.

With advice, the key is to find the crucial issue, which if accomplished, will affect other things. For example, I have a friend who has some personality problems. The key, however, is weight. If she would lose ten pounds, she’d become a more positive person. But she won’t bring herself to that discipline. It does no good to give her advice on how to be positive. The key is to find a way to convince her to lose the ten pounds.

Avoid snap judgments. Even if you know you’re nght, sometimes it’s best to take some time before offering your advice. Why? Because the other person may be skeptical of advice given too quickly.

Getting a haircut one time, I said to the barber, “You’re a disciplined man. You’re the best barber I know. How fast could you cut my hair?”

“Six minutes,” he said.

“Why don’t you?”

“Because you wouldn’t think you had a good haircut unless I took fifteen or twenty minutes.”

Sometimes advice is similar, and it pays to ponder, even if your intuition has given you the appropriate words immediately.

Then again, when the person sees you as an authority, you can afford to speak more quickly. If you have a skin rash, go to a dermatologist, and he says, “Use this salve,” you’ll probably accept the advice. But let’s say you thought you had some unknown disease. You go to the doctor, and he shakes your hand and says, “I see by your eyes that you need an operation.” You’d think, This is a quack! You’d sense he needs more time and information to arrive at that conclusion.

Make sure the person understands what you’ve said. I’m amazed when I talk with somebody for thirty minutes and then say, “Now tell me what you’ve heard me saying to you.” The response often bears no resemblance to my intended advice. And the more emotional the issue, the less clearly people hear.

I once advised a young professional woman, “Never buy luxuries on the installment plan.” When I asked if she knew what I was saying, she said, “So it’s all right to buy a new car on installments?”

“No,” I replied, “I said it was all right to buy necessities like transportation.” She had interpreted transportation as new car, and I suspected she was thinking about a Mercedes or Jaguar. I meant something with wheels to get her to work. She missed the whole point.

When I have doubts if people heard me correctly, often I’ll write them a note: “Enjoyed the visit. Here’s my understanding of what we talked about.” I write the note longhand so they’ll know it’s still confidential. Just one or two points. (If you’ve made more than one or two points, you haven’t given advice, you’ve been counseling.) The note helps clarify and confirm your conclusions.

Restrain your curiosity. Good advice always leaves up to the person the option of taking the action. Advice says, “I’m convinced this is the best way, but it’s your decision.” I never say, “I’ll call you tomorrow to be sure you’ve done this.” That becomes a directive, not advice. You’ve made them feel obligated to follow your advice. I don’t want to violate another person’s freedom. I want to help people make the best decision they can. Whether or not they carry it out is their responsibility.

Advice giving is not some mystical art. Much of it is good common sense. The keys are clarity and conciseness. The last piece of advice I’d offer is to know when to quit. So I will.

I am a Christian because God says so, and I did what he told me to do, and I stand on God’s Word, and if the Book goes down, I’ll go with it.

To hear the voice of God in Holy Scripture oneself,

and to help others to hear it,

is a worthy cause to which to devote one’s resources.

-Billy Sunday

To be commissioned to devote them to this cause is a sacred trust,

not to be undertaken lightly, not to be refused irresponsibly,

but to be fulfilled thankfully.

-F. F. Bruce

Copyright © 1987 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Pastors

SAVING THE SUICIDAL

Pam was a straight-A student, president of the church youth group, and a top competitor in state track.

Just a year before graduation, however, her parents found her dead in the car, the exhaust pipe stuffed with rags.

Pam’s bewildering actions illustrate a raging American epidemic: suicide. The problem is increasing especially among teenagers. For those fifteen to nineteen years old, suicide is the second leading cause of death; since 1955, it has increased 300 percent. Even more alarming is the number of children younger than fifteen who kill themselves. In 1950, forty committed suicide; in 1985, three hundred did.

One week after delivering a sermon on hope in a world of growing despair, Herbert W. Chilstrom, bishop of the Minnesota Synod for the Lutheran Church in America, found a family member had lost all hope. His son Andrew, eighteen, shot himself to death.

Suicide grimly reminds us all is not well in the world, and this is where a pastor has much to offer-hope and meaning for those who feel life has none.

Yet suicide is rarely addressed; it’s a topic none of us likes to talk about. Even in schools, the problem is not often discussed, except in those that have experienced cluster suicides (where one suicide triggers three or four more), like the ones in Plano, Texas; Westchester County, New York; and New Tner High School near Chicago.

As a result, when a parishioner commits suicide, pastors and congregations alike may not know how to respond to the family and friends of the victim. And when a teenager from the church is contemplating suicide, we may not recognize the signals or know how to offer help.

The first step toward helping people of course, is spending time with them and beginning to understand them. When trying to reach teens, Friday night basketball games may seem trivial to us, but they’re important to young people. They need to talk about their hair, their grades, and their weight, because these issues matter to them.

I wanted to minister to potential suicides, and in the suicide counseling courses I took, we spent weeks learning how to listen and developing the skills to be more sensitive. We learned that four out of five people thinking about suicide will drop hints that they need and want help. Based on information from the Suicide Prevention and Crisis Center of San Mateo County, California, and the Boston-based Samaritans, a national suicide-prevention group, here are some of those warning signals.

Warning signals

Each symptom alone is only a sign of stress and may not mean the teenager is on the verge of committing suicide. But each should be taken seriously. L While teenagers frequently change their moods and activity levels, those contemplating suicide become depressed for long periods, and more of these symp-S toms become apparent.

• Change in personality-the youth becomes withdrawn, sad, irritable, or apathetic.

• Irrational outbursts-the teenager suddenly becomes quick-tempered, cries easily, or becomes easily upset by trivial occurrences.

• Decline in performance-grades drop, the teen no longer wants to compete.

* Change in eating or sleeping habits-the teenager begins sleeping or eating markedly more or less.

• Talk about suicide-the youth will say he or she feels worthless, that no one cares. He or she may even talk about death.

• Lack of interest in activities or hobbies previously enjoyed.

• Oifficulty in communicating even small talk.

• Isolation, a loss of friends.

• Obsessive worry about money, illness, or grades.

• Giving away favorite, treasured items.

• Alcohol or drug abuse-the teen will begin using these substances, or the addiction will grow worse.

• Nagging lack of optimism-suicidal teenagers feel out of control and are usually extremely negative about life in general.

• Lack of hope-the youth feels he or she has no future and no longer looks forward to upcoming events.

• Recent loss-the teen has lost a job, a friend, self-confidence, or has suffered loss through death, divorce, or separation.

• Enormous sense of unhappiness or depression.

• Rigid thinking, tunnel vision-suicidal teenagers often view life as an either/or situation.

If a young person’s warning signals go unheeded, he or she may resort to drastic measures in order to get attention. In fact, some 90 percent of teenage suicides take place at home between 3 P.M. and midnight-the time and place a suicide attempt would most easily be discovered.

Counseling the suicidal person

Getting suicidal young people to share their feelings is vital. The specific problem that triggered the depression and suicidal thoughts is often buried beneath the terrible feelings the adolescent is experiencing.

When a teen’s concerns or problems are determined, they should never be dismissed, no matter how trivial they seem. One C + in gym class may not seem like much to an adult, but teenagers have committed suicide because of it. One boy shot himself after failing to make the soccer team.

A common temptation is to argue with the suicide contemplator and to find holes in his or her logic, but that rarely proves helpful. As a hot line counselor, I’ve found callers contemplating suicide can be difficult to talk to when they’re angry. One caller yelled, “What are you going to do about it?” after telling me he wanted to commit suicide. I was tempted to tell him to grow up, but instead I replied, “What would you want me to do about it?”

The key is to focus on the teenager’s feelings and not let him or her divert you from the issue. A frequent counterproductive diversion is debating the rightness of the act. The youth is usually overwhelmed with feelings of guilt, helplessness, and rejection; arguments only add to the load.

Discussing a teen’s past can open the doors for healing. At some time, he or she could cope. Discuss those times. Is this the first time he’s felt like a failure? Probably not. And if not, how did he cope before? A girl who didn’t make the cheerleading squad, for instance, may think her world has come to an end. Ask her about other times when she didn’t win. How did she feel when she didn’t make the swim team three years ago? Encourage her to view the cheerleading situation in the same way.

If a teenager is extremely depressed but has not expressed any suicidal thoughts ask directly if he or she is considering suicide. Talking about suicide will not plant any new ideas; instead, it will help him or her express those fearful thoughts. The youth may respond that she doesn’t feel like living anymore and that everyone would be better off without her.

This kind of talk about death or threats of suicide should be taken seriously. If a teenager admits having suicidal thoughts, press for specifics. How often has he or she thought about it? How would he or she do it? Where? Most suicidal teens feel no one cares, and asking these questions shows that you do. It also, in a gentle way, forces them to think through the implications of the decision.

The specific plans are usually violent. According to the American Association of Suicidology in Denver, 62 percent of fifteen- to twenty-four-year-olds who commit suicide shoot themselves. If the teenager does have a specific plan for carrying out suicide, he or she should not be left alone. A specific plan indicates the youth has already made the decision to commit suicide.

Paradoxically, when a teenager seems to be doing better, the danger of suicide may be greater. Severely depressed teens don’t have the ability to do everyday tasks, let alone kill themselves. But as the depression lifts, so does the inability to act on earlier suicide plans.

Counseling suicidal youth, as this illustrates, is complex, and prevention and treatment require long-term commitments. It would be easy for a pastor helping suicidal young people to become a full-time crisis counselor. So in many cases, pastors will want to take advantage of people who are trained solely to deal with crises like suicide, such as hospital psychiatrists and crisis counselors. The pastor’s role often centers, then, on listening well and knowing what resources are available when additional help is needed.

The American Association of Suicidology cites approximately two hundred suicide-prevention centers throughout the United States. The Yellow Pages list available local centers under “Suicide Prevention Services” or “Crisis Intervention Services.” If such services are not available in your community, national suicide-prevention associations (see box) can offer guidance and support. Also, many continuing education programs now offer courses in suicidal and crisis counseling.

Educating the congregation and community

One of the most helpful things pastors can do is to educate the congregation and community concerning the issue. Programs on suicide have been incorporated by some churches into their regular educational offerings. Steve Swanson, a ninth-grade confirmation teacher in Northfield, Minnesota, asked his students to list topics to discuss. To his surprise, five of the nine students wanted to discuss suicide. By giving teenagers instruction in dealing with pres sures, success and failure, self-esteem, and communication, churches can help prevent suicides.

William Wendt, an Episcopal priest in Washington, D.C., saw the issues of suicide and death were not being addressed in local schools, so he established the St. Francis Center. Center staff members teach courses in junior and senior high schools and offer workshops and group counseling to the bereaved.

After a young college man committed suicide, the Conference of Churches in Glastonbury, Connecticut, created a series of programs aimed at prevention. One program involved the play, “Quiet Cries,” in which three people contemplate suicide for various reasons. The play is open-ended, and afterward the audience discusses it. About two hundred teenagers and adults came, and during the following two weeks, more people began opening up and sharing their feelings.

St. Columban’s Church in Birmingham, Michigan, set up a program called “Touched by Suicide” for those who have been affected by suicide. The group, led by Father Jack Trese, deals with the problems all those touched by suicide face.

Sadly, St. Columban’s program, like the one in Connecticut, did not get started until a suicide had occurred. How much more effective is the program that begins before a church member commits suicide.

Don’t give up

No matter how hard we try, however, there will be times when we won’t be able to save someone. Pam was only one person I knew who committed suicide. Two years later, a friend’s brother shot himself, and last year my cousin tried taking her life.

“Nothing is perfect and works all the time,” says Bruce Benson, a Lutheran pastor at St. Olaf College who officiated at the funeral of a student who committed suicide. “But that doesn’t mean we give up. Open-heart surgery works most of the time, but it doesn’t work all the time. That doesn’t mean we stop doing open-heart surgery.”

Addressing the problem of suicide and helping suicidal teenagers can be exhausting and time consuming. Yet, by learning to listen for warning clues and addressing the underlying problems, we can touch young lives-before it’s too late.

-Jolene L. Roehlkepartain Chicago, Illinois

The good things which belong to prosperity are to be wished, but the good things which belong to adversity are to be admired.

-Seneca

WHERE TO FIND HELP

The following national suicide-prevention associations offer information and assistance:

American Association of Suicidology, 2429 South Ash, Denver, CO 80222

For clergy, psychologists, social workers, physicians, and other professionals who share interest in studying suicide prevention. Distributes information through programs and publications.

International Association for Suicide Prevention, Suicide Prevention and (crisis lLenter, 1811 Trousdale Drive, Burlingame, CA 94010

Provides information about suicide prevention and trains people. Membership is worldwide; the association is headquartered in Vienna, Austria.

National Committee on Youth Suicide Prevention, 666 Fifth Avenue, 23rd Floor, New York, NY 10103

Develops youth suicide prevention programs in local communities and provides information to increase public awareness of youth suicide.

National Save-A-Life League,

44520 Fourth Avenue, Suite MH3,

New York, NY 11220

An organization for professionals and trained volunteers focusing on the prevention of suicide. Works closely with more than one hundred crisis centers throughout the United States.

The Samaritans,

500 Commonwealth Avenue,

Kenmore Square,

Boston, MA 1)2215

An organization for people who volunteer their time to help the suicidal and lonely. Holds more than one hundred talks and workshops a year on suicide prevention for professionals and lay people.

Copyright © 1987 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Pastors

NEGOTIATING A FAIR SALARY

Arriving at an equitable pay package needn’t raise hackles or fears.

Recently a friend told me how he had felt compelled to leave a growing Midwest church after a series of below-inflation pay raises With three teenage children, he found himself unable to keep up with the rising costs of raising a family.

For years he swallowed hard and hoped things would be different next year. But they never were. Feeling increasingly discouraged and unappreciated, he accepted a call to another church.

Tragically, the church he left had been happy with his ministry. As far as they were concerned, everything was going well. They had no idea he was unhappy, and they didn’t want him to leave. But by then it was too late. Not wanting to repeat the same mistake, they hired their next pastor at a substantially higher salary, a salary that would have been more than enough to meet my friend’s needs.

He still might lee pastoring that church if only he had known how to negotiate a fair salary. Instead, he finds himself in another church in another city, struggling with some of the very same issues. The church lost a pastor it wanted to keep. He lost a ministry he once loved.

Admittedly, my friend’s case is an extreme example of what can happen when a pastor doesn’t know how to negotiate a fair salary. But his problem is not an isolated one. While many pastors have been well trained in the theological and pastoral realms, few receive any instruction when it comes to hammering out a reasonable pay package.

I, too, had to learn the hard way. When I arrived at my first pastorate, I discovered one man held the offices of board chairman, finance elder, and treasurer. He was also the driving force behind our fledgling building program. His number one priority was to save enough money to purchase property for the church to build on. As a result, my “promotion” from youth pastor to a senior position resulted in a three-thousand-dollar cut in pay and benefits. I figured, I’d better learn to negotiate. If I don’t, I might soon be paying or the privilege of pastoring a church!

Over the years things have changed. Much of the credit belongs to a kind and supportive board, but some of the credit belongs to the principles of negotiation I learned along the way. My concept of negotiation is simple. I have just two major goals: (1) to produce a fair salary, and (2) to avoid any hint of an adversarial relationship with the board. Here are the principles that have helped me reach those goals.

Commitment to Honesty

Fair negotiations are founded on a commitment to openness and honesty. Since most of us are already striving to develop more open and honest relationships within our congregations, this shouldn’t be a problem. But our commitment often gets sabotaged at salary time, undercut by an equally strong hesitancy to talk about money.

I know, in my role as pastor, I hate talking about money. I cringe at the thought of a building or fund-raising program. It bothers me when record numbers of visitors show up on Stewardship Sunday. Therein lies the problem. At negotiation time, my reticence to talk about money conflicts with my desire for openness and honesty.

Many of us choose to let our distaste for discussing money win out; we keep our feelings inside. We say “Thank you” when we really mean “That’s not enough!” The result is often an unfair salary and a dissatisfied pastor.

Whenever I hear a pastor friend complain about some aspect of his contract, I listen for a while. Then I casually ask if he has told his board members or the annual salary-review committee how he feels.

Invariably, the answer is no.

When I ask why, I am given a variety of reasons, but the bottom line is usually a fear of the consequences. Some pastors fear getting their heads bitten off; others fear the appearance of greed or a lack of contentment. Some fear breaking the spiritual relationship with their board.

But the truth is, most of these pastors have nothing to fear. While it’s true that some boards are out to “keep pastors humble,” most boards are made up of good people who want nothing more than to serve God faithfully and support their pastor There is no need to fear being open and honest with such people.

As we talked one day, Gary, a fellow pastor, expressed discouragement with the level of his most recent pay raises. After seven years of solid ministry, he felt he wasn’t being adequately compensated. I asked if he had ever told any of his board members how he felt.

As usual, the answer was no. For the next twenty minutes, I challenged him to tell even one or two of his board members what he had told me. I knew he was doing a fine job and that his board was pleased with his ministry. I figured they simply had no idea how he felt.

I was right. The next time I saw Gary, he was quick to inform me his board had not only listened to his request, they had responded with a significant increase in his financial package.

When I complain to outsiders and friends before I have expressed those same feelings to the board, I am being less than forthright. I’m ignoring the “golden rule”-failing to treat my board as I want my parishioners to treat me whenever they are upset by my actions or decisions.

A word of caution here: It’s important to know who can and who cannot handle my honest feelings. Openness and honesty does not mean foolishly giving ammunition to those who would hurt me. When faced with a divided board or a one-man thorn in the flesh, it is usually best to share my feelings with some of my more loyal supporters on the board.

However, to be effective, I can’t limit my transparency to my best friends. I have to talk to those who actually make the decision. In marketing, it’s called “selling the decision maker.” In other words, when you’re selling hand organs, don’t talk to the monkey.

It’s unfortunate so many pastors are leery of honesty when it comes to their compensation package, for without an open exchange, pastor and board are left with assumptions and guesswork, a wholly inadequate basis for making decisions.

Time for Reflection and Feedback

The second key principle is to build into the salaryreview process adequate time for reflection and feedback.

Obviously, the best time for helpful feedback comes before, not after, the board has finalized next year’s salary. Yet most pastors have no chance to review their proposed package before it is finalized. Instead, their annual salary is set without any opportunity for their input.

Often a weary board decides next year’s salary at the tail end of a late-night budget meeting. After the pastor or pastors have been asked to leave the room, the treasurer suggests a salary figure he feels the budget can handle. A brief discussion follows; then the board adopts a figure remarkably close to the treasurer’s original proposal.

No wonder many pastors feel frustrated with such a process. It wouldn’t be so bad if a well-rested group carefully evaluated the implications of the proposal for both the church and the pastor. But it hurts to watch your family’s financial security rise and fall with the whims of an exhausted board.

Wanting to end such scenarios, I added a “week of reflection” to our annual review process. It is not a week for hard-ball negotiations but simply an opportunity for my staff and me to reflect on the proposed changes in our contract and how they will affect us next year.

I began by asking the board to give me a week to think and pray over their proposed compensation package-before it was finalized. I promised them honest feedback at the end of the week. I also assured them I would willingly accept their final decision to adopt or reject any changes I might propose. I just wanted them to have an opportunity to know how I felt and what I thought before they made their final decisions. This “week of reflection” has proved to have two major benefits for our church 13 and our staff. Ej

First, it has given us a forum for discussing and; correcting inequities brought about by false assumptions or misunderstandings. I can clarify issues the board might not be fully aware of: the impact of rising social security taxes, inflation, or the added cost of feeding teenagers.

The week also allows us to correct inadvertent mistakes. A few years ago our elder board decided to completely rework my compensation package. In the process, they thought they were giving me a substantial raise. So did I. When I took a sharp pencil to the figures, however, I realized the actual result of the changes would be a cut in monthly income. Given the complicated nature of the changes, without a week of reflection I probably would not have realized the implications until the package had been finalized. My “raise” would have been lost, and worse, I would have had no forum in which to ask the board to reconsider.

A second benefit of our week of reflection has been the opportunity to vent frustrations and feelings before they become major issues. For instance, my annual vacation allotment aggravated me for a long time. It was a purely symbolic issue, but the type of issue that can easily become blown out of proportion. In my previous ministry, I had received four weeks of annual vacation. When I was called to North Coast, they offered two weeks. We settled on three.

Thanks to my week of reflection, I had a vehicle to voice my desire to the board rather than to outsiders. Each year I carefully explained I felt the vacation time could be expanded. Each year they returned to tell me they thought it was ample.

Yet there was something amazingly cathartic about the process. Even when they disagreed with me and said no, somehow the tension and frustration were removed. I no longer felt as if I were on the receiving end of uninformed and arbitrary decisions.

This year I finally received my four weeks. But in the interim, I had a vehicle to vent my honest feelings. It helped keep this admittedly minor issue from growing into a major source of hurt or frustration. We’ve found our week of reflection to be the proverbial ounce of prevention worth a pound of cure.

Accurate Comparison

A third principle in negotiating a fair salary is to be sure everyone is comparing apples with apples. Many unfair compensation packages are the result of people not knowing how to compare accurately a pastor’s salary with a layperson’s salary.

Most board members have no idea of the true cost of their salary. When you ask the average layperson what he makes, he is likely to say an amount equal to his take-home pay or, if he is a salaried employee, his gross salary. He will almost never include the cost to his employer for such items as medical insurance, employer contributions to social security, retirement, expense accounts, or other benefits. My friends in business management say these expenses usually add at least 40 percent to the gross salary. In other words, a man who thinks his salary is thirty thousand dollars a year in actuality will be making something closer to forty-two thousand dollars. And this figure will be higher if the job has especially good benefits.

Yet when a church looks at the pastor’s salary, it often looks not at the cash salary of the pastor but at the cost to the church for providing a pastor. People then figure the pastor is making thousands of dollars more than he or she actually makes, and compared to their pay stubs, the pastor’s compensation appears out of line.

To help my board and congregation more accurately compare our salaries, I suggested we reorganize our budget categories. Our budget originally had a category entitled Pastor, which included my salary, housing allowance, and medical insurance. It also included many items that should not have been confused with salary: mileage and entertainment expected to attend, it is an administrative expense.

To reflect this, we put all the expenses of running a ministry into a category called Administration, the same one that contained the utilities, postage, office supplies, and insurance. Now when the board and the congregation look at the salary figures in our budget, they can more accurately compare them with their own.

Even with these changes, in numerous areas a pastor’s salary cannot be compared exactly with a layperson’s salary. For instance, few lay people (except military personnel) have anything similar to a tax-exempt housing allowance. Not many lay people understand how it works. Some underestimate its benefits; others vastly exaggerate its worth.

Often lay people also misunderstand selfemployment taxes. Since most pastors are self-employed for social security purposes, they pay substantially higher social security taxes than those who work as company employees. Unless a layperson is self-employed, half of his social security taxes are paid by his employer. It’s another part of that extra 40 percent most people forget when figuring their salary. Those who make the decisions concerning my salary need to understand these differences and their implications.

The purpose of structuring an annual budget this way is not to trick anybody, nor to make a raise easier to come by. But clear categories insure people are comparing apples with apples when they review the pastor’s annual salary.

And when good people get the facts straight, the outcome is usually fair for all concerned.

Larry W. Osborne is pastor of North Coast Evangelical Free Church in Oceanside, California.

You cannot help men permanently by doing for them what they could and should do themselves.

-Abraham Lincoln

Copyright © 1987 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

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