From the Archives: To Luther

Calvin was a prolific letter-writer. Reprinted below is the entire text of a letter sent to Martin Luther, by way of Philip Melanchthon; along with some of Calvin’s writings. Melanchthon never showed the letter to Luther.

Philip Melanchthon [1497–1560]Despite the animosity that later existed between Lutherans and Calvinists, Melanchthon and Calvin were dear friends.

January 21, 1545

To the very excellent pastor of the Christian Church, Dr. M Luther, my much respected father.

When I saw that my French fellow-countrymen, as many of them as had been brought out from the darkness of the Papacy to soundness of the faith, had altered nothing as to their public profession, and that they continued to defile themselves with the sacrilegious worship of the Papists, as if they had never tasted the savour of true doctrine, I was altogether unable to restrain myself from reproving so great sloth and negligence, in the way that I thought it deserved. How, indeed, can this faith, which lies buried in the heart within, do otherwise than break forth in the confession of the faith? What kind of religion can that be, which lies submerged under seeming idolatry? I do not undertake, however, to handle the argument here, because I have done so at large already in two little tractates, wherein, if it shall not be troublesome to you to glance over them, you will more clearly perceive both what I think, and the reasons which have compelled me to form that opinion. By the reading of them, indeed, some of our people, while hitherto they were fast asleep in a false security, having been awakened, have begun to consider what they ought to do. But because it is difficult either casting aside all considerations of self to expose their lives to danger, or having roused the displeasure of mankind to encounter the hatred of the world, or having abandoned their prospects at home in their native land, to enter upon a life of voluntary exile, they are withheld or kept back by these difficulties from coming to a settled determination. They put forth other reasons, however, and those somewhat specious, whereby one may perceive that they only seek to find some sort of pretext or other. In these circumstances, because they hang somehow in suspense, they are desirous to hear your opinion, which as they do deservedly hold in reverence, so it shall serve greatly to confirm them. They have therefore requested me, that I would undertake to send a trusty messenger to you, who might report your answer to us upon this question. And because I thought it was of very great consequence for them to have the benefit of your authority, that they might not fluctuate thus continually, and I myself stood besides in need of it, I was unwilling to refuse what they required. Now, therefore, much respected father in the Lord, I beseech you by Christ, that you will not grudge to take the trouble for their sake and mine, first, that you would peruse the epistle written in their name, and my little books, cursorily and at leisure hours, or that you would request some one to take the trouble of reading, and report the substance of them to you. Lastly, that you would write back your opinion in a few words. Indeed, I am unwilling to give you this trouble in the midst of so many weighty and various employments; but such is your sense of justice, that you cannot suppose me to have done this unless compelled by the necessity of the case; I therefore trust that you will pardon me. Would that I could fly to you, that I might even for a few hours enjoy the happiness of your society, for I would prefer, and it would be far better, not only upon this question, but also about others, to converse personally with yourself; but seeing that it is not granted to us on earth, I hope that shortly it will come to pass in the kingdom of God. Adieu, most renowned sir, most distinguished minister of Christ, and my ever-honoured father. The Lord himself rule and direct you by his own Spirit, that you may persevere even unto the end, for the common benefit and good of his own Church.

History

From the Archives: Living as Christians

In his master work, The Institutes, Calvin set forth his theology of grace and sanctification. After attacking the notion of people earning divine favor with good deeds, Calvin addresses the question of how we are to live as Christians saved by grace—and why.

“I do not so strictly demand evangelical perfection that I would not acknowledge as a Christian one who has not yet attained it.”

CHAPTER VI

The life of the Christian Man; and First, by What Arguments Scripture Urges Us to It

Motives for the Christian life…

Now this Scriptural instruction of which we speak has two main aspects. The first is that the love of righteousness, to which we are otherwise not at all inclined by nature, may be instilled and established in our hearts; the second, that a rule be set forth for us that does not let us wander about in our zeal for righteousness.

There are in Scripture very many and excellent reasons for commending righteousness, not a few of which we have already noted in various places. And we shall briefly touch upon still others here. From what foundation may righteousness better arise than from the Scriptural warning that we must be made holy because our God is holy? [Lev. 19:2; I Peter 1:15–16]. Indeed, though we had been dispersed like stray sheep and scattered through the labyrinth of the world, he has gathered us together again to join us with himself. When we hear mention of our union with God, let us remember that holiness must be its bond; not because we come into communion with him by virtue of our holiness! Rather, we ought first to cleave unto him so that, infused with his holiness. we may follow whither he calls. But since it is especially characteristic of his glory that he have no fellowship with wickedness and uncleanness, Scripture accordingly teaches that this is the goal of our calling to which we must ever look if we would answer God when he calls [Isa. 35:8, etc.]. For to what purpose are we rescued from the wickedness and pollution of the world in which we were submerged if we allow ourselves throughout life to wallow in these? …

The Christian life receives its strongest motive to God’s work through the person and redemptive act of Christ.

And to wake us more effectively, Scripture shows that God the Father, as he has reconciled US to himself in his Christ [cf. II Cor. 5:18], has ill him stamped for us the likeness [cf. Heb. 1:14] to which he would have us conform. Now, let these persons who think that moral philosophy is duly and systematically set forth solely among philosophers find me among the philosophers a more excellent dispensation. They, while they wish particularly to exhort us to virtue, announce merely that we should live in accordance with nature. But Scripture draws its exhortation from the true fountain. It not only enjoins us to refer our life to God, its author, to whom it is bound; but after it has taught that we have degenerated from the true origin and condition of our creation, it also adds that Christ, through whom we return into favor with God, has been set before us as an example whose pattern we ought to express in our life. What more effective thing can you require than this one thing? Nay, what can you require beyond this one thing? For we have been adopted as sons by the Lord with this one condition: that our life express Christ, the bond of our adoption.

Imperfection and endeavor of the Christian life

I do not insist that the moral life of a Christian man breathe nothing but the very gospel, yet this ought to be desired, and we must strive toward it. But I do not so strictly demand evangelical perfection that I would not acknowledge as a Christian one who has not yet attained it. For thus all would be excluded from the church, since no one is found who is not far removed from it, while many have advanced a little toward it whom it would nevertheless be unjust to cast away….

What then? Let that target be set before our eyes at which we are earnestly to aim. Let that goal be appointed toward which we should strive and struggle. For it is not lawful for you to divide things with God in such a manner that you undertake part of those things which are enjoined upon you by his Word but omit part, according to your own judgment. For the first place, he everywhere commends integrity as the chief part of worshipping him [Gen. 17:1, Ps. 41:12; etc.]. By this word he means a sincere simplicity of mind, free from guile and feigning, the opposite of a double heart. It is as if it were said that the beginning of right living is spiritual, where the inner feeling of the mind is unfeignedly dedicated to God for the cultivation of holiness and righteousness.

But no one in this earthly prison of the body has sufficient strength to press on with due eagerness, and weakness so weighs down the greater number that, with wavering and limping and even creeping along the ground, they move at a feeble rate. Let each one of us then, proceed according to the measure of his puny capacity and set out upon the journey we have begun. No one shall set out so inauspiciously as not daily to make some headway, though it be slight. Therefore, let us not cease so to act that we may make some way of the Lord. And let us not despair at the slightness of our success; for even though attainment may not correspond to desire, when today outstrips yesterday the effort is not lost. Only let us look toward our mark with sincere simplicity and aspire to our goal; not fondly flattering ourselves, nor excusing our own evil deeds, but with continuous effort striving toward this end: that we may surpass ourselves in goodness until we attain to goodness itself. It is this, indeed, which through the whole course of life we seek and follow. But we shall attain it only when we have cast off the weakness of the body, and are received into full fellowship with him.

History

Pastor of Geneva

Olivier Fatio

Joannis Jacobi Schipperi, 1671

One is accustomed to speaking of Calvin as the Reformer of Geneva. It would be more precise, perhaps, to call him the pastor of Geneva, because Calvin was above all a pastor, and his work as a reformer was simply the extension of his pastoral ministry.

In fact, Calvin was not really prepared for pastoral ministry. Everyone knows how he was pushed in to it one fine day in July, 1536, by Guillaume Farel. Why did Farel take an interest in this 27-year-old, a lawyer, humanist, and self-taught theologian? Because for some months, the cultured public with its avid taste for Protestant theology could speak of nothing else than his book Christianae religionis institutio, published in March, 1536. In this pocket-size book, the young man presented Reformation doctrine in a systematic way with great clarity and strength of conviction. Calvin was an intellectual and was going to Strasbourg to continue his studies; pastoral ministry was not his forte. Yet Farel got him to stay.

That first stay in Geneva seems to have been an unfortunate episode. The population was not prepared to submit to the demands of foreign pastors. As a result, the government drove Calvin and Farel out at Easter, 1538.

One might expect Calvin to go back to scholarly pursuits, admitting failure as a pastor. And Calvin did go on to Strasbourg. But there Martin Bucer asked him to take care of a community of French-speaking Protestant refugees and to teach at the academy. This stay in Strasbourg would turn out to be of primary importance for Calvin. Working with Bucer, he acquired what he had lacked in Geneva: experience in the pastoral ministry, the catechism, and the liturgy.

During his exile, the situation in Geneva bordered on anarchy. In 1540, an official delegation came to beg Calvin to come back. Reluctantly, he returned to Geneva in September, 1541, intending to spend a few weeks, a few months at the most, just enough time to put the affairs of the church back in order. He was to die there 23 years later.

How is it that during these 23 years Calvin became “the Reformer of Geneva” and Geneva became “the city of Calvin”? Did he exercise extensive political powers, those of a dictator as his detractors have claimed? Certainly not. Rather it was by preaching, organizing, admonishing, writing—in short, fulfilling his ministry as a pastor.

By November, 1541, the government had adopted Calvin’s Ecclesiastical Ordinances, which gave a new aspect to the Geneva reformation. In it, significantly, the preaching of the Word played a central role. In the city’s three churches, it sounded forth every day of the week; and twice on Sunday, with sermons that lasted for more than an hour. Eighteen pastors from Geneva and the surrounding county parishes formed a high-caliber “Pastors Company” that wielded considerable influence, since the church pulpits were more or less the “media” of the day.

Why did Calvin insist that the pastor’s main task was the preaching of the Word? Because, in his opinion, preaching was like a “visitation” from God, through which he reaches out his hands to draw us to himself.

Calvin and the other pastors occupied themselves with other matters besides preaching. According to the Ecclesiastical Ordinances, they also administered the sacraments, baptism and Holy Communion; they presided over marriages which took place during ordinary services; they watched over the proper functioning of public charity. They participated with the elders in the meetings of the renowned Consistory, which gathered every Thursday to censure, and even excommunicate, believers guilty of offenses against Reformed morality or doctrine. All this reflects the importance of the ministry which Calvin, as pastor, and his other colleagues exercised for the life of the Church and the city.

The Ecclesiastical Ordinances were not enough. Calvin felt the need to provide pastors with two other texts: the catechism and the liturgy. The Catechism of the Church of Geneva, published in 1542, enabled the pastor to teach the basics of the Reformed faith by means of questions and answers spread over 55 Sundays. Memorized by children at school, repeated and explained before the whole community on Sunday, it became a key element in the formation of the faith of Genevans and other Reformed believers for nearly two centuries.

The same year, Calvin composed a liturgy, the Form of Church Prayers and Hymns, which has been the basis for the order of the Reformed service to our day, and he introduced the public singing of the Psalms. The Psalter became the heart of Reformed piety.

Under his direction, Geneva also became a receiving center for Protestant refugees persecuted in France by King Henry II. The rush of them was prodigious: the city, which numbered approximately 10,000 inhabitants in 1550, saw its population double in 10 years. In addition to the French, there were refugees from Italy, England, Scotland, the Netherlands, and elsewhere.

Exhausted by the illness which had almost made him an invalid since the winter of 1558–1559, Calvin passed away May 27, 1564. He died as poor as he had lived, without any other title than that of pastor.

Nicolas des Gallars, a member of his pastoral team, admirably summed up Calvin’s pastoral ministry:

“What labors, what long waking hours, what worries he bore, … with what faithfulness and intelligence he took an interest in everyone; with what kindness and good will he received those who turned to him; with what rapidity and openness he answered those who questioned him on the most serious of questions; with what wisdom he received, both privately and publicly, the difficulties and problems brought to him; with what gentleness he comforted the afflicted, raised those who were laid low and discouraged; with what firmness he resisted the enemy; with what zeal he brought low the proud and stubborn: with what greatness of soul he endured misfortune; with what moderation he behaved in prosperity; with what skill and enthusiasm, finally, he acquitted himself of all the duties a true and faithful servant of God, words of mine could never express.”*
* Opera Calvini XXXVI, 15–16.

Dr. Olivier Fatio is a Professor at the University of Geneva in Switzerland.

- More from Olivier Fatio

Pastors

PEOPLE IN PRINT

A Voice to Speak

A Guide to Effective Sermon Delivery by Jerry Vines, Moody, $9.95

Reviewed by Scott Wenig, singles pastor, Bear Valley Baptist Church, Denver, Colorado

“The words hit me like a laser beam. ‘You will have to be completely silent for the next two weeks. You have a nodule on the anterior third of your right vocal cord. Surgery is the only way to remove it. I’m not sure when you will be back in the pulpit. Perhaps ninety days or longer.’ “

With these few sentences, Jerry Vines introduces the reader to a personal crisis, which, ironically, became one of the greatest blessings of his life.

The threat of throat surgery forced Vines, senior pastor of First Baptist Church in Jacksonville, Florida, into a program of speech rehabilitation. Through this process he learned new patterns of speaking that cured the problem, thereby saving him from the surgeon’s knife During the course of his recovery, Vines became an intense student of speech in general and preaching in particular. Ultimately, the result of this potential disaster was not only a salvaged voice but an outstanding book on preaching, aptly titled A Guide to Effective Sermon Delivery.

From experience and observation, Vines concludes that many preachers unintentionally misuse their voices. This tendency, combined with the tensions inherent in the pastorate, produces unnecessary vocal strain. Vines has sought in this book to help pastors prevent the abuse of one of their most valuable assets.

But proper vocal care is not the author’s only reason for writing. A second goal is to help pastors “become effective in communicating the Word of God to people.” Vines acknowledges that most preachers are capable enough when it comes to sermon content. But to become an effective communicator, he feels, “the preacher must not only prepare his sermons well, he must also deliver them well.”

Vines reemphasized this focus on delivery in a recent phone conversation. He stated, “Most pastors have been taught how to manufacture a sermon, but they haven’t been taught the basics of marketing. Any training we can receive in the use of the voice or the dramatic arts will only aid us in becoming more effective communicators.”

In Vines’s homiletical format, effective sermon delivery is like a wheel supported by five spokes: the mechanical, mental, rhetorical, psychological, and spiritual aspects of preaching. His suggestions on the mental aspects of preaching exemplify just a few of his many insights. Vines argues that if the message is to make an impact, it must come alive during the moment of delivery as well as in the study. In the author’s words, “Sermons must not only be born; they must be born again.”

For this to occur, the sermon must be both visualized and vitalized. This happens when the preacher uses his imagination to help the audience “see what he says.” According to Vines, “Imagination is the difference between a good and an average preacher. [If you] visualize what you say . . . it will vitalize the words as you speak them.”

He uses the example of Jonathan Edwards’s sermon, “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” replete with a loathsome insect hanging “by a slender thread, with the flames of divine wrath flashing around it, and ready at any moment to singe and burn it asunder.” With images like that, Vines writes, “people grasped the pillars and pews of the church to keep from sliding into hell.”

When I asked for one way pastors could improve their preaching, he said, “Read written sermons aloud.” He recommended Spurgeon for this exercise: “His sermons abound in the use of word pictures and will also give your voice a good workout. A regular program of reading Spurgeon aloud will not only strengthen your voice but also aid you in helping people see what you’re trying to say.”

The book is a how-to manual on everything from proper breathing and care for the voice to the use of the body when speaking. For example, Vines advises preachers to never drink milk before preaching, since it builds up mucus in the throat. In the section on the psychological aspects of preaching, he describes how good body movement is essential in making the audience react to the message. “Let your body speak for you,” he writes. “If we frown as we describe taking a dose of castor oil, they will too.”

Possibly most helpful is the section on the spiritual aspects of sermon delivery. He notes, “We are witnessing a strange inconsistency at present. Ours is an emotion-centered generation. Yet most preaching is unemotional.” To counteract the emotive desert of the contemporary pulpit, Vines fervently pleads for a return to what he labels “heart preaching,” in which preachers deliver themselves as well as their sermons. “The genuinely effective preacher is one who puts everything he has into his sermon,” according to Vines. “When he speaks, his sincerity and enthusiasm generate sparks. That kind of effectiveness cannot be imitated, for sincerity and earnestness are impossible to manufacture. They come from deep within the heart and spirit of a preacher.”

As a practical tool to improve the dynamics of your preaching or as a guide to proper vocal care, this book is hard to beat.

Matching Needs with People

The Art of Recruiting Volunteers by Mark Senter III, Victor, $9.95

Building a Caring Church by Tom and Janie Lovorn, Victor, $8.95

Reviewed by Mark A. Lamport, assistant professor of youth ministry, Gordon College, Wenham, Massachusetts

Ferdinand Marcos, recently exiled ruler of the Philippines, once claimed, “Leadership is the other side of the coin of loneliness, and he who is a leader must always act alone.” As we now know, his statement became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Unfortunately, some church leaders also buy into Marcos’s philosophy of “I can do it myself” leadership. Others, happily, seek to involve the gifted laity in the work of ministry.

The Art of Recruiting Volunteers and Building a Caring Church show us step by step how to involve volunteers in two significant ministries: education and caring.

Have you ever known that uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach when you realize it is time-again-to recruit church workers? You recall the countless phone calls you made last time to cajole one unsuspecting soul into service. The Art of Recruiting Volunteers seeks to relieve that queasy feeling.

Mark Senter’s eleven years as a youth minister, seven years as a pastor of Christian education, and three years as a professor at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School provide background as he weaves a fictional scenario of a fresh-out-of-seminary DCE, Jeff Thompson, who meets his staffing problems with sound principles for recruiting and preparing volunteers.

“Properly understood and employed,” Senter writes, “recruitment is an answer to renewal in the local church.” Yet, Senter realizes, recruitment is a serious problem. Why?

First, various factors discourage volunteerism: working women, absentee fathers, fear of a lifetime commitment, lack of theology of service, and a vacuum of prayer are a few Senter names. “The church, caught up in the pay-me-what-I’m-worth cultural mentality, is finding itself more and more dependent on paid staff members and less and less on the volunteers, who at one time were the backbone of the church’s ministry.”

Second, leaders haven’t always employed a systematic approach to selecting, training, and retaining volunteer workers. Although Senter aptly describes the first problem, the book primarily answers this second problem. Senter’s main concern is identifying those with gifts and interests and then matching them with ministry opportunities. Detailed chapters on planning, publicity, evaluation, and prayer refocus the task of staffing positions from a dreaded chore to a shepherding role.

The contents are replete with sample letters, planning calendars, a talent and interest survey, service commitment forms, and a full-scale worker enlistment program. The principles apply to any church, large or small. The straight-forward, well-organized approach offers church leaders a method to solve the ubiquitous problem of acquiring and enabling volunteers in ministry.

Tom and Janie Lovorn have written Building a Caring Church to mobilize volunteers for “caring people into the Kingdom.” Tom says, “Some have mistakenly divided the Christian message into social gospel and evangelistic gospel. That is a false dichotomy; it is a total gospel.” Therefore, this book reflects a holistic concern for people’s temporal needs as well as their afterlife.

Tom, pastor of Monumental Baptist Church in Petersburg, Virginia, and Janie, the former full-time care coordinator, contend the church has in many cases forfeited its caring role to social agencies: “Who feeds the needy between Christmas and the next Thanksgiving?” Building a Caring Church convinces us there is much that can be done.

The ministry of caring the Lovorns outline is based on four principles: serving the total person, seeking out needs, utilizing capable leaders who will follow through, and providing everyone an outlet for service. Such services include yard work, minor repair, visiting, preparing food, and providing transportation.

The Lovorns suggest a full-time care coordinator identify needs and assign people to care for them. Nonetheless, the ideas can be modified for a volunteer or part-time position.

While acknowledging the inevitable difficulties of caring ministries, the authors provide straightforward responses to questions that arise. Two examples: Where does the money come from to pay for people’s bills, repairs, food? Answer: Write it into the church budget like other important items, or seek contributions as people see good things happening.

Question: Isn’t it their own fault if people find themselves in need? Answer: Check with the people themselves and help them solve the root of the problem, not only the apparent need.

Two chapters on ideas provide a plethora of suggestions for caring, such as checking on the elderly, sitting with the ill, ministering with the handicapped, counseling by phone, providing hospital equipment, or teaching classes for those with special needs. Numerous examples of sample letters, report forms, and training aids provide the structure to help put good intentions into practice.

Aiding the needy in the name of Jesus draws them closer to him and into fellowship with his body, the church. For the Lovorns, that is the bottom line: to reflect the image of God by caring for the body.

Both books major on the practical. Their workbook format and brisk style make them useful resources for the Christian education committee or the board of deacons.

Better Sunday Schools

The Trouble-Shooting Guide to Christian Education by John R. Cionca, Accent, $7.95

Reviewed by Paul Borthwick, minister of missions, Grace Chapel, Lexington, Massachusetts

Where will I find the money for Sunday school curriculum? How can I round up enough people to maintain our Christian education program? And what about adult classes?

If you have asked these questions, you’ll appreciate John Cionca’s Trouble-Shooting Guide to Christian Education. Written from the perspective of a pastor (before Cionca recently became dean and Christian education professor at Bethel Seminary), the book reflects Cionca’s parish experience as a youth worker, director of Christian education, and senior pastor.

The book is written in a question-and-answer format, covering questions Cionca faced as a church worker and his most frequently heard questions from pastors, DCEs, and lay leaders. It progresses through the various aspects of the Christian education ministry-staffing, organization, program, curriculum, training, facilities, and evaluation. Charts, sample job descriptions, and other forms are featured throughout the book. Several chapters contain extensive resource lists on subjects such as training, puppetry, and video cassette suppliers, to name a few.

“I wrote this book to help pastors multiply their own ministries through well-trained coaches, their lay coordinators,” said Cionca in a telephone interview. “The pastor may get only thirty minutes in the sermon to teach the congregation, but Sunday school workers get up to sixty minutes with their students. In light of this fact, pastors do well to build the Christian education program-not only by increasing knowledge but also through encouragement, team building, and guidance.”

Cionca wrote the book out of particular concern for Christian education in the church of two hundred members or less. He wanted to help the reader see Christian education in workable terms.

“This book may seem simple,” said Cionca, “but I believe Christian education is not as complex as we might make it.”

The Trouble-Shooting Guide is full of common sense. Here’s how Cionca answers the question, “How can we increase attendance in our program?”

“The first step in increasing a Sunday school’s attendance is to have a good Sunday school. You’ve sat in classes, and I’ve sat in classes, that are so poor that only an extreme commitment to Christ will enable the person to endure week after week. While some people have that kind of commitment, the average person will only attend programs that are enjoyable, biblical, and personally relevant. When these qualities characterize our program, attendance is likely to increase even with limited promotion.

“Improving the quality of the program is 80 percent of the battle. The remaining 20 percent is motivating people to have the attitude, ‘We want to let others know what they’re missing.’ “

Cionca continues, “Rally days and occasional attendance contests have their place, but the most consistent method for increase is to have our people possess the attitude: ‘This is a great place to learn what God says about life. You would really enjoy and benefit from this program. Why don’t you come with me next Sunday?’ “

I found The Trouble-Shooting Guide useful in day-to-day ministry issues. The question-and-answer format enabled me to use it as a reference volume. When someone complained about our staff-training meetings, I turned to Cionca’s advice and compared my thoughts with his.

Cionca deals with the state of Sunday school in the 1980s. He writes with understanding for the overworked pastor who is trying to juggle CE with his concern for the functioning of the entire church. He does not get preoccupied with lofty ideals but rather tries to be realistic about matters like curriculum costs (and how to trim them), methods of learning (maybe we can still use lectures), and leadership training.

The Trouble-Shooting Guide has two potential weaknesses. First, because of the format, it is a little choppy, jumping from question to question, often with little or no connection between the points. Second, it may seem a little overwhelming to those just starting out. However, they can glean the pertinent facts and leave the rest for future reference.

Cionca offers The Trouble-Shooting Guide so that pastors can improve their CE involvement as team leaders, encouragers, and pacesetters, while sharing the leadership load with other team members.

NEW AND NOTEWORTHY

How to Preach More Powerful Sermons by Homer K. Buerlein, Westminster, $10.95

This preaching book is written by a layman-a professional speaker and speech writer whose credentials include fifty-five years of pew sitting.

As a public speaking teacher, Buerlein knows solid content is never enough. To careful thinking and biblical research must also be added persuasive presentation. Buerlein therefore targets specific techniques, like the artful use of the . . . pause. He argues for provocative sermon titles and practiced use of gestures and body movements. He evaluates ways to translate a manuscript into notes and explains why the last few sentences said from the pulpit are the most important.

Reading this book is like getting a good dose of enlightened feedback from the pew, something no preacher wants to do without.

Stories for Telling by William R. White, Augsburg, $6.95

A man went to his rabbi with a question: “Rabbi, I understand almost all the law. I understand the commandment not to kill, the commandment not to steal. But I don’t understand the commandment against slandering my neighbor.”

The rabbi said, “before I answer, gather a sack of feathers. Place a single feather on the doorstep of each house in the village. When you have finished, return for your answer.”

The man soon returned. “Now, rabbi, give me the answer to my question. Why is it wrong to slander my neighbor?”

“Ah,” the rabbi said, “one more thing. Go back and collect all the feathers before I give you the answer.”

“But rabbi,” the man protested, “that is impossible! The wind will have blown them away.”

“So it is with the lies we tell about our neighbors,” the rabbi said. “They can never be retrieved. They are like feathers in the wind.”

This book is full of such folktales and stories for use by Christian communicators.

The Church Handbook, David Publishing, $9.95

This book tackles the sometimes-thorny issues facing the church leader Monday through Friday. A variety of contributors present help on tasks like building good staff relationships and laying out a readable newsletter. In one chapter, a management consultant explores new models of church organization and argues for honing relational skills. Another chapter features a recording engineer’s guidelines for choosing and using a sanctuary sound system.

Whether outlining legal steps for organizing a congregation as a nonprofit corporation, discussing estate planning, or listing checkpoints for buying a computer system, this handbook contains an array of practical, usable information.

Excellence in Leadership by John White, Intervarsity, $5.95

Every leader faces problems like criticism, dryness in prayer, the dimming of vision. White believes the Christian leader finds solutions to these situations in sources beyond secular management books; he draws on the prophet Nehemiah for a new model for excellence.

From Nehemiah, White finds that “The more time a committee spends in prayer, the less its members will have to spend in futile discussion.” White discovers that “People do not follow programs, but the people who inspire them.”

With biblical perception, this book points to a leadership style that is realistic while visionary, focused on priorities while sensitive to others, faithful yet practical.

Young Adult Ministry by Terry Hershey, Group, $12.95

Young adults (ages 18-35), who make up a large percentage of the adult population, unfortunately don’t often show up in churches. That, says Terry Hershey, comprises the promise and challenge of young adult ministry.

After thorough research on this group’s cultural influences, Hershey addresses topics like targeting singles or young marrieds, avoiding burnout, developing study material, and uncovering opportunities for small churches. This book manages to be practical without being trivial, enthusiastic without being trite.

The Pastor-Evangelist in Worship by Richard Stoll Armstrong, Westminster, $9.95

Evangelism is more than what happens in the crusade stadium or on neighborhood doorsteps, seminary professor Richard Armstrong believes. Evangelism also takes place at weekly worship. At least it should.

Here he examines how worship can convey the church’s faith through elements like singable hymns or well-trained ushers. Chapters on officiating at weddings and funerals observe ways the pastor can share faith as well as perform a service. This book helps pastors look through evangelistic glasses at the tasks of leading worship and preaching.

-Reviewed by Timothy Jones

Christ Our Peace Church of the Brethren

The Woodlands, Texas

Pastors

DEALING WITH DECEPTION

Kevin A. Miller

Deceivers wreak havoc in a church because they are almost impossible to catch.

Though names and identifying details have been changed, this is a true account of one pastor’s struggle.

The phone call couldn’t have come at a better time.

Just this morning Ken McMahon had mustered the courage to fire his choir director. He needed to do it-he’d been putting it off for too long-but he hated to do it all the same. During his thirteen years at Levittown Community Church, people had often told Ken he was an encourager, a rescuer, the kind of person who could bring out the best in others. Maybe that’s why it hurt so much to let Sharon go.

But the call took away the morning’s bitter aftertaste. An old seminary friend who was now teaching college called out of the blue to say, “If you’re ever looking for a music director, there’s a sharp young guy who is coming to Philly for graduate work in music. He’s one in a million.”

Ken got the name and number and set up a breakfast appointment for the following Tuesday.

On Monday Ken called the guy’s home pastor. The pastor was high on him. “Steve Borchard? Every time he was home from college, he jumped in with the choir. One summer he helped organize and lead a week-long ensemble tour. Another time he got our high school kids-can you believe it-to put together a cantata.” Steve certainly sounded motivated.

The Tuesday interview confirmed everything Ken had heard. The first thing that struck Ken was Steve’s rugged good looks-tall, about six-two, raven-black hair with a slight wave to it. Good looks never hurt Kennedy’s popularity, Ken mused while they waited for their pancakes. We won’t have trouble recruiting sopranos. Steve talked fast, and his hands were always moving, as if he were trying to direct Ken through a difficult aria. But Steve struck Ken as a shaker and mover.

“I’m excited,” Ken told his wife, Jean, that evening. “You know how Sharon used to ask, three days before a cantata, what I thought should be on the program cover? Steve already has plans for two cantatas, including adult and youth choirs, complete with ideas for the program covers!”

On Thursday evening, Ken described Steve to the board. He admitted Steve was young, sort of a raw recruit. But the board was impressed by the work Steve had done at his home church, and most of them were happy just to find a choir director so soon, especially one who would work hard. They authorized sixteen to twenty hours a week for the position, and they were open to increasing the hours if Steve proved himself.

Steve’s first real assignment came in August, at the church’s annual picnic in Washington Crossing State Park. Ken asked Steve to lead a short time of singing in the pavilion after dinner. That was always a tough situation, Ken knew, because everyone would rather be out playing volleyball or throwing Frisbees. But the visibility would be good for Steve, and Ken wanted to see how he’d handle himself.

When Ken introduced him, Steve walked to the front and strapped on his twelve-string Ovation guitar. “I’m really better on piano,” he smiled. “So you’ll just have to imagine I have an eighty-eight string guitar.” People laughed, and from then on Steve had them right with him. He started with a couple of folk choruses to loosen everybody up. Steve moved around a lot, and his excitement was contagious. Ken looked around during one song and saw that even some of the high school kids were singing. Steve flowed smoothly from one song to the next-not talking too much, just enough to make you want to sing. He closed with “Fairest Lord Jesus,” which Ken knew the older folks would appreciate. I can’t believe this guy is only twenty-four, Ken thought. I wish I’d had that kind of poise when I was starting out.

Then Steve took off his guitar. “I appreciate the welcome you folks have given me so much that I decided to prepare a solo for today.” He sang a beautiful arrangement of “At the Cross,” and his rich, unaccompanied baritone voice fit it perfectly. Ken was moved.

The fall breezed by quickly. Ken enjoyed having someone else to talk with in the office. And Steve was there a lot. Sometimes after finance committee meetings, Ken would leave the office after ten, and Steve would still be there, scribbling away on an arrangement for an upcoming anthem. Other mornings, Ken would come in at 7:30 to get a jump on the day, and Steve would already be at work. Ken felt vaguely guilty about it because he knew Steve had to be putting in more than twenty hours, but he figured Steve just ran on high-octane fuel.

“If I told him to cut back, he’d be hurt,” he told Jean one time. “I think he not only wants to work hard, he needs to.” Besides, Ken was enough of a mercenary to not look the gift hours in the mouth.

Steve’s hard work paid off. During September, a couple of tenors-always the hardest part to recruit-joined the choir. And choir members actually smiled during the anthem. It wasn’t long before people began saying to Ken, “Wonderful sermon today, Pastor, and wasn’t the choir marvelous?”

So Ken was only a little surprised that winter when Clarence and Ruth Gillis called to make an appointment with him. “We want to talk to you about Steve Borchard” was all they would say. I should have known, Ken thought. As soon as they can’t call the shots, they yell. Both in their sixties, Clarence and Ruth had been the choir’s squeaky wheels for as long as anyone could remember. In fact, they had complained the loudest about Sharon. It was sort of understood that you had to let Clarence and Ruth speak their mind, and usually the choir followed along. Ken figured their noses were bent out of joint because Steve had taken charge and become so well liked-without regularly consulting them.

Ken didn’t know what they could possibly complain about. Steve’s ministry ran like a well-oiled engine. The only vibration Ken had picked up was a couple months ago when Steve had asked Ken if he could date somebody in the choir. Ken asked who and found out it was Gloria, a pretty nineteen-year-old alto.

“You have good taste,” Ken said, “but I don’t think it would be wise to date someone barely out of high school. It would be best for your ministry here to wait at least a year before dating anyone in the church.” Plus, Ken was afraid Gloria might still be emotionally tender from her dad’s death a few months ago. But Steve seemed to have accepted the counsel and hadn’t raised the issue again.

Sure enough, when Clarence and Ruth came they fired a volley of petty complaints. “Steve never mails the line-ups for special music on time. He says they’re in the mail, but they’re sitting on his desk.”

“How do you know?” Ken asked.

“We, uh, happened to be in the office one day, and noticed they were there.”

“Wait a minute. It’s one thing to tell someone, ‘I don’t believe you and I’m going to check on you.’ But to snoop in his office!” Ken’s voice rose a bit.

“We weren’t sneaking,” Ruth protested. “Just checking things . . .”

“But that’s not all,” Clarence said. “Steve never gives us a break during rehearsal.”

Oh, give ME a break, Ken thought.

On it went. Steve was unsafe when he drove the church van. Steve joked too much during rehearsal. Ken was about to politely end the meeting when Clarence said, “Steve borrowed $250 from me and never paid it back.” That was worth checking.

“When?”

“A couple months ago. He had a little fender-bender with the church van, and he said he didn’t want it to go on his insurance. He was going to fix it himself. He borrowed from us for the repairs.”

“When was he supposed to pay you back?”

“In just a couple weeks. But he hasn’t paid us a penny yet.”

So that’s what’s driving all these complaints, Ken thought. He promised Clarence and Ruth he’d check into the matter and thanked them for coming.

I can’t believe Steve didn’t tell me about the van, Ken thought, driving home after the meeting. And if he doesn’t pay that money back soon, Clarence and Ruth won’t give him a moment’s peace.

The next day, before he saw Steve, one of the deacons, Bill Seifert, called. “Ken, I hate to bother you with this, but something’s come up with Steve.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Steve’s been sharing an apartment with Guy Alben. A while back, Steve was short on cash, so Guy fronted the rent money for him. Steve hasn’t paid him back yet. Guy doesn’t mean to complain-you know what a good heart he has-but he really needs the money. He came to me because he didn’t know what else to do.”

Ken’s stomach knotted. He didn’t know what to do. Was Steve just immature, not too swift with finances? And why hadn’t he told him about the accident?

Steve dropped by Ken’s office that afternoon.

“Can I make a request?”

“What’s up?” asked Ken.

Steve asked what the possibilities would be for him to work full time at the church during the summer. “We’ll both benefit,” he said. “I need the money for fall classes, and things are starting to take off in the choir. If I could give it my full attention, we could have an outstanding summer program-maybe take a week-long tour. The possibilities are endless.”

“That’s worth considering,” Ken hedged. He’d already thought of it, but then these money problems had popped up. “Let me check it out with the board.” After Steve left, Ken called Irv Hadley, chairman of the board.

“Irv, Steve Borchard was just in here proposing that we take him on full time this summer. But I think we need to work through something first.”

“You mean the thing with the van?” Irv asked.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Just talked with Clarence yesterday. He seems pretty upset.”

So I wasn’t moving fast enough for you, huh, Clarence? Ken was more than a little bugged. “Well, that, and another money thing. Maybe it would be best at this point to keep Steve part time through the summer, sort of a probationary period during which he can straighten things out. We can consider extending his hours a little in the fall.”

“Do what you need to do. We don’t have to have him full time yet,” Irv said.

Ken told some other board members what he planned to do, and they also backed him. The next morning, he asked Steve to stop by his office.

“I’ve been thinking about your request to go full-time this summer,” Ken began. “The prospect certainly interests me, but first I wanted to talk with you about some signals I’ve been picking up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I understand you borrowed $250 from the Gillises and haven’t paid them back, and you borrowed several hundred from Guy Alben and haven’t paid him back, either.”

“I’m working on that,” Steve said. “I promised them I’d pay them back, and I will.”

“There’s also an issue of integrity here,” Ken replied. “I understand you had an accident with the church van and didn’t tell me or anyone else about it. Is that right?”

Steve looked down. Ken continued, “There’s no sense losing your honor and credibility over niggling matters like these.”

“You’re right.” Steve put his forehead in both palms, and his voice quivered. “I, I’ve been struggling financially. … ” Ken looked at him hunched over in the chair, and it occurred to him that Steve was only a few years older than his kids. But still, staff members need to be above reproach. Ken outlined his proposal as gently as he could. Steve would continue through the summer on a part-time basis and get another job outside the church to supplement his income. This would allow him to get things in order. If everything went well during the summer, the church would consider extending his hours in the fall.

Steve was disappointed, but his acceptance of the decision was admirable. Within a day or two, Steve scaled back the summer schedule he’d planned for the choir and found a part-time job at a 7-Eleven. He even met with Clarence and Ruth-something of a stand-off, Ken heard, with Clarence and Ruth not being too forgiving. But Ken figured that was the best that could be expected.

Afterward, Steve wrote Ken a letter saying how sorry he was about the whole mess. Part of it read, After our conversation, I spent a long time in prayer trying to figure out where I had failed both the choir and the church, and more important, how my relationship with Christ has slipped. How selfish and damaging my attitudes and actions have been! I want to restore what has been done. Thank you, Ken, for your strong yet compassionate handling of this problem.

Ken felt relieved. He told Jean that night, “You know, it’s not easy being a pastor, but it would be a lot easier if everyone responded like Steve.”

Summer started smoothly. Steve directed a “Celebration of Joy” evening concert, one of the best-attended events the church had ever held. Ken met with Steve several times to discuss the summer choir trip. Two years ago, the choir had taken a four-day trip through the Poconos and southern New York, performing four or five concerts at different churches and park band shells. Last summer’s trip washed out because of all the problems with Sharon. Now folks in the choir were begging for another trip.

Ken assured Steve he would go along, to greet the pastors-most of them were his contacts-and bring a short message at the Sunday concerts. “But I don’t have time to make any of the arrangements,” Ken told him. “It’s your baby.” Steve said OK. “You’ll have to get those days off from your job, too,” Ken reminded him.

“No problem,” Steve said.

The Sunday before the trip, however, Steve came up after the morning service. “Bad news, Ken. They’re not going to let me go.”

“What do you mean they’re not going to let you go? We can’t take the trip without a director.”

“The manager scheduled me to work.”

“Didn’t you tell him at the beginning of the summer that you’d be gone those days?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, ask again,” Ken said. “They gave you the days, and we need you.”

Steve called Ken at home the next day, and he sounded glum. “They won’t let me go, Ken. I begged them, but they insisted they need me.”

Ken didn’t get mad very often, but he was hot. “We’ll see about that,” he said. He called the 7-Eleven manager.

“This is Pastor McMahon from Community Church,” Ken said. “Steve Borchard, our choir director, is working for you this summer.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I really need Steve to lead the choir tour we’re taking this week. Isn’t there any way you can let him have Friday and Monday off?”

“Well, sure.” She sounded puzzled. “Steve never told me about those days, but if he really needs them, we can work something out.”

Ken was taken aback-and really angry now. He slammed the receiver down. “What’s going on?” He grabbed the phone and punched in Steve’s number.

“Steve, what’s the deal?” Ken pressed. “I just called Fran, and she says you’re welcome to go.”

“Oh, well, I talked to her husband. She and Ralph run the store together. They don’t communicate too well. Ralph says he really needs me. And since I’ve already committed myself to stay, I need to do that.”

Steve’s answer was so quick that Ken’s anger vanished. He can’t be lying, Ken thought. That’s too easy to check. “Well, OK then,” was all he could say. Ken thought about calling Ralph to verify Steve’s story, but he felt like a louse even considering it. He couldn’t see himself calling up and saying, “This is the pastor of Community Church, and I’m calling to find out if my staff member is lying to me.” Steve knows he’s on probation and he’s gotta keep his slate clean, Ken reasoned. Only a total nitwit would try to pull something like that. He finally figured Ralph and Fran must not talk to each other.

Ken was the only one who’d had any experience directing, so he got the honors when the choir left Thursday. The choir knew the music well enough, but Ken felt like an idiot. Once he forgot a piece was in three-quarter time and confused everyone by marking a four-four beat.

By the time the September board meeting rolled around, though, Ken had put the tour mix-up behind him. Steve said he’d paid his debts, and Ken supported the motion to increase Steve’s hours to twenty-five per week. That was all Steve could handle anyway with his two graduate courses.

The next day he stopped by Steve’s office and told him the good news. “By the way,” Ken joshed, “how are things with Gloria?” Lately Ken had noticed them talking together after rehearsals. Since Steve had been there a year, he didn’t feel too uptight about it.

“How did you know?” Steve’s head jerked up like he’d heard a rifle shot.

“C’mon,” Ken laughed. “I may have gray hair, but my eyes still work.”

“Well, we just didn’t want anyone to know until we announced it Sunday.”

“Huh?” Now Ken was confused.

“Gloria and I are engaged. We’re going to get married in February.”

Ken stared for a second or two. Finally he collected his wits enough to say, “What a surprise!” He shook Steve’s hand and left. Ken couldn’t believe how fast they’d hit it off. They must have been seeing each other all year, he thought, but he didn’t have any proof, so he let the idea go.

That fall Steve and Gloria began their premarital counseling with Jim, a fellow in the church with a master’s degree in counseling who helped part time with the counseling load. One day Jim told Ken, “I’m concerned about Steve and Gloria.”

“Because of their age difference?”

“Well, not so much that. Five or six years can pose some problems, of course, but lots of marriages make it with bigger gaps. It’s their maturity level. I’m just not sure they’re ready for the demands of marriage. There’s also some friction with Gloria’s mom. She’d always wanted her to go to college.”

Ken’s eyebrows raised. Gloria’s mom was one of the most influential women in the congregation. This had better be handled right.

“If you’re really concerned, you need to tell them. That’s part of the role of the counselor. I’ll be willing to sit in with you if you need me there,” Ken suggested.

“I’ll discuss it with them and see what happens,” Jim promised.

After considerable discussion the next few weeks, Jim and Ken finally decided they could not play God. Steve and Gloria were determined to get married, and Ken couldn’t see any good way to prevent it. If he refused to do the ceremony, Gloria’s mom-the whole church-would be on his case.

In late January, Ruth Gillis made another appointment. Ken figured it was another semiannual barrage about choir matters.

“Reverend McMahon,” Ruth said, once she and Clarence got settled, “we don’t think Steve Borchard is really repentant.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because he hasn’t paid us back a darn nickel,” Clarence said, his face flushed.

“You mean he hasn’t paid you anything? I thought he settled that last summer.”

“He came and talked to us,” Clarence said, “but he hasn’t paid us back. Instead he goes out and spends his money on some tape player. And it’s not just that. He’s not in school like he claims.”

The last comment hit Ken as outlandish. Steve had told him several times how hard his music theory class was. “What makes you think he’s not in school?”

“We asked another student to check whether he’s got a mailbox at the school, and he doesn’t.” Ruth said it slowly, as if laying down a trump card.

“Not all students have mailboxes on campus.”

“We also checked with the registrar, and Steve isn’t enrolled.”

“Are you sure?”

Clarence and Ruth nodded together.

“OK,” Ken sighed, “I’ll look into it.”

The next morning, Ken asked Steve, “How’s school going?”

“It’s tough,” said Steve. “But I’m learning a lot.”

“You’ve got two classes this quarter?”

“Music theory and choral conducting. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. Haven’t had much chance to talk to you lately.”

Ken went back to his office feeling dirty. This can’t keep going, he told himself. Clarence and Ruth are going to make me a bigger snoop than they are. He called Ruth and told her that Steve was indeed in graduate school.

But a week later, Clarence and Ruth stopped by his office in the afternoon. “We’ve double checked with the registrar, we’ve checked with the finance office, and Steve is not in school.

Ken had had enough. “Why are you two sneaking around checking on Steve?”

Ruth looked so hurt that Ken backpedaled a bit. “All right,” he said. “We’ll get this thing straight once and for all. I’ll bring Steve in here, and you can talk to him yourself. Are you willing to do that?”

“Bring him in,” Clarence said.

Now I’m chairing an inquisition! Ken thought. But it was too late. He’d promised.

Steve looked puzzled when he entered Ken’s office and saw Clarence and Ruth sitting there. Ken tried to put him at rest. “Steve, there’s a little confusion I’d like you to clear up for us. Clarence and Ruth feel they have good reason to believe you are not actually in graduate school. I’ve assured them you are.”

“Of course I’m in school,” Steve said, staring at Clarence and Ruth.

“Then maybe you should tell us why the registrar and finance office don’t have any record of you,” Ruth shot back.

Ken didn’t realize their relationship had deteriorated that far. “Uh, maybe it would be helpful if you clarified your relationship with the school, Steve.”

“That’s easy. I’m auditing two courses: music theory and choral conducting.”

“Oh, you’re auditing,” Ken said quickly, before Ruth could say anything.

“Even so, wouldn’t the registrar have some record of that?” asked Clarence.

“Yes, but you see, I made special arrangement with the professors since all I’m doing is sitting in. But I am in school.” Then Steve got up and walked out. The meeting was obviously over.

But the assaults weren’t. Four or five times over the next few weeks Clarence and Ruth called with new charges that Steve was guilty of some misdeed.

“That choir isn’t big enough for the three of them,” Ken told Jean one evening. “Clarence and Ruth would lynch Steve if I’d let them.” Ken kept Jean up till 1 A.M. talking about the situation. He finally decided that, as painful as it was, for everyone’s peace of mind he was going to have to ask Clarence and Ruth to leave the choir. “I hate to do it,” he said, “but I can’t have one of my staff members under constant attack.”

With Steve and Gloria’s wedding the next weekend, Ken didn’t talk to Clarence and Ruth until the final week of February. He decided to drive to their home. “I came to talk about the problem with Steve,” he said when Ruth opened the door.

“I’m glad,” she said. “Clarence and I just can’t quit stewing about it.”

Ken sat in the recliner. “I’ve been very concerned about your relationship with Steve,” he began, searching their faces. “The constant friction worries me. It’s affecting the whole choir, and I’m worried about what it’s doing to you two, to your peace of mind.”

“We’d feel a whole lot better if Steve paid back our money,” Clarence admitted.

“I know, and Steve assures me he’s going to pay. But something has to be done. I’ve prayed and thought long and hard about this, and for the sake of the choir and peace of the church, I’d like you two to step down from the choir. At least for now.”

Ruth gasped. “But Reverend, you can’t mean it. Why, that choir is our whole life.”

“I know, and it’s painful for me to suggest it,” Ken said. “This isn’t an act of discipline, just something I’m asking you to do for the good of the church.”

“What about our good?” Ruth said. “Don’t we count?” Ruth looked him in the eye. “You don’t believe us. You think we’re lying about Steve.”

“Of course not,” Ken said quickly. But then he didn’t know what to say. For what seemed like a long time they sat in silence. Finally Clarence spoke.

“Pastor, the reason I’m constantly harping on this lying thing is because I’ve been there. From the time I was thirteen until I was nineteen, I lived in my own world. I was a pathological liar, and my parents couldn’t trust me if I told them what time it was. I wouldn’t have changed, but God brought a major disaster in my life and broke me. So I know lying when I see it. Steve is doing that to you. You’re going to be very sorry if you don’t check for yourself whether Steve’s in school. We’ve checked it to our satisfaction. You need to do it.”

Ken had never heard Clarence admit any mistake before, let alone something like this. You don’t just make up stories about being a pathological liar, he thought. But to check on Steve? All I need is people around town saying, “McMahon can’t trust his own staff.” But there in front of him was Clarence, shaking as he spoke.

“OK,” he said. “I’ll check.”

Ken waited until Steve got back from his honeymoon in the Poconos, just in case he needed to have him clarify something. Then on Tuesday Ken drove to downtown Philadelphia to the graduate school campus. His heart was pounding as he found Dr. Austin’s office on the second floor of Old Main. “Dr. Austin,” he said, once inside, “Steve Borchard is our choir director and a student here at the graduate school. Have you ever given him permission to sit in on your music theory class-not audit, just sit in?”

“I can’t give that permission and I wouldn’t,” he said.

Ken pulled out a picture of Steve and held it across the desk. “Is this man in your classes?”

Dr. Austin shook his head. “Never seen him.”

“Thank you,” Ken said. “That’s all I needed to know.” Neither had the conducting prof seen Steve

Once back at the church, Ken walked into Steve’s office and remained standing.

“Hi, Ken,” Steve smiled, “what’s up?”

“About school,” Ken said tensely. “Your profs don’t know anything about your auditing arrangement. They don’t even know who you are.”

Steve blinked a few times but answered quickly. “Well, the classes are so large, and actually, I arranged the audit through the registrar’s secretary. I never did talk to the profs themselves. But when I talked to the secretary, she said it would be OK.”

“Thanks for clearing that up,” Ken said, not convinced. Back in his study Ken called the registrar’s office and talked with the secretary.

“I remember him asking last fall if he could sit in on classes,” she said. “I told him I’d check, but he never came back. But we wouldn’t grant that permission to anybody.”

Ken hung up and called Irv Hadley. He explained the entire story: Clarence and Ruth’s accusations, what the school had said.

“He talked to me for fifteen minutes one Sunday about his classes. And you mean to tell me he’s not even in school?” Irv said.

“I can hardly believe it myself, but the registrar, the professors-nobody knows him.”

“We can’t have a staff member of this church lying like that,” Irv said. “I don’t care who he is. If he was one of my employees, I’d fire him in a minute. The rest of the board needs to know about this.”

That Sunday night Ken recounted the story for the board. They decided that Irv and Ken should ask Steve to resign quietly.

On Tuesday morning the three of them met in Ken’s office. Steve looked a little shaken with Irv in the same room.

“Steve,” Ken began, “we called you in here today because it’s come to our attention that you’ve been lying to us. Everything you’ve told us about your involvement in graduate school has been untrue. You’re not going to classes, you’re not auditing, you didn’t get permission from the professors, and you lied about the secretary situation.”

Ken thought Steve might deny it, but he didn’t. He just looked down at his feet.

Irv jumped in. “I don’t know why you’ve lied about all this, but you’ve made Ken almost destroy his relationship with Clarence and Ruth. You have compromised the integrity of this entire church. You have broken trust, and that’s a precious commodity.”

Steve started to cry.

“Steve, we love you and we want to help you,” Ken added, really meaning it. “But for your sake and for the sake of the church, we’re asking you to resign from leadership. You’re our brother in Christ and we want you to stay in the church. But this pattern of lying is serious. You need to step down and work on it. We hope you’ll cooperate in the process so you can be forgiven and restored.”

No one spoke for almost ten minutes. The only sound was Steve’s sobs. Finally Ken said, “Steve, we know you’ll need some time. Stay here as long as you need to, and when you’re ready we’d like to meet with you again.” Ken prayed briefly and then he and Irv left.

Steve stopped by Ken’s office later that day. “I need to see you tonight, Ken. I can’t go on like this.”

Ken knew Irv would be busy tonight. He didn’t really want to meet with Steve alone, but when he saw how upset Steve was, he felt he couldn’t make him wait. “OK. I want you to tell Gloria what’s happening and bring her with you tonight. It’s very important that she know what’s going on.” Ken knew the fallout from Steve’s resignation could wreck their young marriage unless they handled it together.

That night Ken was back in his office by 6:30. Just before 7:00 Steve walked in-alone.

“Where’s Gloria?” Ken asked.

“I, uh, didn’t tell her yet. Ken, I’m scared!”

“I would be, too,” Ken said. “Let’s talk.”

They met until quarter of twelve. Steve cried much of the time. Ken read from 2 Corinthians 7 and encouraged Steve that godly sorrow would lead him to true repentance and restoration. He assured Steve that God would forgive him and the church would forgive him. Steve would have to bear some unavoidable consequences, but he could endure those knowing he was forgiven. Then they prayed together and when they were done, they stood and embraced. Ken was crying, too. Before they left, Ken urged Steve to come with Gloria to talk things through. Steve said he would.

Ken was glad to see the bedroom light still on when he pulled in the driveway. He told Jean how good the meeting had been.

“Ken, he’s got your number,” Jean finally said.

“What do you mean?” Ken crossed his arms.

“All Steve has to do is hint that he needs your help and cry a little bit, and he’s got you, because you’re a rescuer.”

“What’s wrong with that? He does need help.”

“It sure seems to me that Steve is playing the passive-aggressive game. He aggressively does his dirty work. Then when you confront him, he becomes passive and weak as a baby. You rush in to help, and suddenly he’s in control because you can’t confront him anymore.”

æ”€n couldn’t sleep that night. He kept replaying what Jean had said. Am I really that gullible? I don’t know any other way to build a staff except to trust people. He wanted to be firm, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t worthy to issue ultimatums. Everything I do is tainted, too. Am I really any better than he is? Maybe my sins are in different areas, but deep down we’re the same. There, but for the grace of God, go I.

On Friday Ken found a letter from Steve on his desk: I thought I should straighten things out between you and me. Concerning my coursework, I must confess I have not represented myself well. That error in judgment is mine. I apologize for the hardship this has placed on you. In a sense I have told only half the truth, but the real issue is that I have, by my omission of certain facts, been half honest. Nowhere did Steve admit he’d done anything wrong. He kept hiding behind “errors in judgment” and “omissions of facts.”

Later in the day, Steve told him that he and Gloria needed to meet with him that night. Ken called Irv and found out he was sick and wouldn’t be able to come. He didn’t like the idea of meeting with them alone, because he was beginning to doubt his discernment. But he decided the issue couldn’t wait.

Steve and Gloria arrived about seven. Ken had to give Gloria credit. For being such a young bride, she didn’t look shaken at all.

“What can I do to get my job back?” Steve said. “I’m really sorry. I want to repent.”

Be firm, McMahon, Ken thought. “It’s too late for that, Steve. Your job is not the issue at this point. The issue is your integrity. We love you, but we don’t feel it will be helpful to you or the church for you to remain in leadership.”

Steve looked dumbfounded. I don’t think he realizes what his problem is, Ken thought. Ken began to retell the grad school story so he would be able to understand how much damage he’d caused. But just as he was starting, Steve interrupted.

“Look, Ken, I don’t want to argue with you. I just want you to know that we agree with the decision, and we want to be the ones to tell the choir.”

“That’s a good idea,” Ken said, relieved that Steve was coming around. They decided Steve would tell the choir at next Thursday’s rehearsal. Ken would also be there. “You don’t need to tell all the details,” Ken said. “But you need to confess that you’ve not been honest-and that it’s been over a long period of time and with many people, not just a couple.” Ken added this last part because by now the choir had split wide open, with Steve and Gloria and their supporters on one side and Clarence and Ruth and a smaller group of backers on the other. If Steve said he was resigning because of “a couple of people,” everyone in the choir would immediately think “Clarence and Ruth.”

“OK,” Steve said. “Thursday.” Then he and Gloria left.

Gloria hadn’t said a word, but she had stayed calm. As Ken drove home, it suddenly hit him. Gloria doesn’t know what’s going on. That’s why Steve cut me off when I started retelling the details. He didn’t want her to know. Ken felt a twinge in his right side. She must think we’re just picking on Steve. Thursday night is going to be tough on her.

All Thursday Ken’s mind kept racing ahead to the rehearsal. He struggled to concentrate on his 10:00 counseling appointment. Around one he gave up on a sermon outline and went out for a sandwich. He ran into Lucy Stanton, a long-time choir member, at the coffee shop. She said hi, but Ken could have sworn she gave him a dirty look. I’m getting paranoid, he thought.

Ken got to his office by 6:30 that evening to try to pray and clear his mind before the rehearsal started at 7:00. At five minutes till seven, Doris, Gloria’s mom, stormed into his office

“You have no right to fire Steve!” Doris began.

“Wait a minute. Who told you we’re firing Steve?”

“Steve did, this morning, after he told the choir.”

“What? You mean he already told the choir?”

“Some of them. He called a few to explain things. They’re just as upset as I am.”

Ken was angry and scared all at once. “He was supposed to announce that tonight when we could discuss it. But tell me the story as you understand it.” Whenever he got scared, Ken dropped into the pastor-as-listener mode.

“Naturally, Steve didn’t feel free to share all the details, but you don’t have to think too hard to realize it’s because he doesn’t get along with Clarence and Ruth.”

That’s not it! Ken was screaming inside, but he’d been a pastor long enough to contain himself. “What else have you heard?”

“Well, Lucy Stanton said Steve’s being fired because he’s not organized enough. Ken, he’s still young. You can’t fire him just because he’s got some things to learn.”

“Listen, Doris, neither of those things has anything to do with why we’ve asked Steve to resign. We’re asking Steve to step down because he has lied to many members of this church about a variety of things for a long period of time.”

“What do you mean?” Doris asked.

Ken proceeded to describe the whole web of lies about grad school.

“You have no proof,” Doris said when Ken had finished.

“Doris, I can get the proof.” Ken couldn’t believe she wasn’t convinced. “The point is that the lying hasn’t been an isolated incident with Steve. It’s been an ongoing pattern.”

“I think he’s being falsely accused,” Doris said. They talked for another ten minutes, but nothing Ken said would shake Doris’s belief that her son-in-law was an innocent victim. Doris finally left madder than when she’d come.

Ken looked at his watch: 7:50. The rehearsal! He jumped up from his chair and sprinted to the sanctuary. He rounded the corner, slowed, then stopped. The sanctuary was dark. Steve must have made the announcement and then let the choir go. The most important meeting of my life and I miss it because Doris pins me in my office, Ken thought. If they’ve heard Steve’s side of the story, they’re never going to believe me. We’ve lost the war.

When Ken walked in the door at home, he could hear Jean on the phone. “Yes, he should be home soon. I’ll have him return your call.” Jean hung up and turned to him. “Ken, that’s the fourth call in the last ten minutes. They’re all about Steve.”

“I’ll return them in the den.”

“Ken, they sounded angry. What happened?”

“I don’t know, dear. I don’t know.”

Ken emerged from the den around eleven, feeling like a weary infantryman crawling from a foxhole. Every time he’d hung up, another call had come in. He still had one call to make, but by now it was too late to call anyone. Each call had been sickeningly like his meeting with Doris, beginning with some sort of attack, like, “I can’t believe you would fire Steve.” Ken would ask, “What is the problem as it’s been related to you?” and inevitably the person would say, “Steve’s being fired because he’s disorganized, but mostly because of Clarence and Ruth.”

Ken would try to explain, but the caller either didn’t really believe him or wanted to know what proof Ken had. After the second call, Ken began promising people he and Irv would come to the next choir rehearsal to clear up the matter.

Sunday tested Ken’s will. He had hardly slept since Thursday. He’d answered, at last count, thirty-five calls. The choir had been scheduled to sing, but obviously couldn’t without a director, so they sat in the pews. Many of them glared at Ken throughout the service. And there was Steve, sitting near the back, surrounded by members of the choir, and smiling.

Monday morning Steve dropped by the church to finish clearing his office. Ken asked him to come into his office and sit down.

“What happened last Thursday?” Ken said, his voice edged with anger.

“I presented the whole situation to the choir as a positive and biblical decision,” Steve said. “They took it about as well as could be expected.”

“Then why do forty people have the wrong story?”

“Well, you see, an issue came up that I feel you should consider,” Steve said. “The choir said to me, ‘We forgive you, and God forgives you. Why can’t we, as the people under your ministry, restore you?’ So what could I say? There are a lot of people, Ken, who want me to stay. And not just in the choir, either.”

So now the fighting gets dirty, huh? Ken thought. “Listen,” he said, “ten words from you could save me a year of trouble, and I want those ten words. Thursday night you are going to come to choir rehearsal and tell those people the truth. Is that understood?”

Steve nodded. Too quickly, Ken thought.

When Ken and Irv walked into the sanctuary Thursday evening, the first thing they heard was crying. Most of the choir was standing in a big huddle, and the crying seemed to be coming from there. When Ken and Irv got closer, they saw it was Gloria. Steve had his arm around her, saying things like, “It’s all right, honey. It’s going to be all right.” Everyone turned and stared at Ken and Irv.

They look like we’ve been beating her, and that’s why she’s crying, Ken thought.

Once everyone had been seated, Ken said simply, “I know the last week has been very difficult for you. We’d like to straighten things out tonight. Steve has something he’d like to say.”

Gloria was still crying, softly now.

Steve began rambling about misunderstandings and how things “hadn’t worked out.” He finished by saying, “I have not been as honest as I should have been with a couple of people.”

Ken kept waiting for him to say something more, but he sat back down. So Ken stood up and said, “Steve, that’s not the issue. You have repeatedly misrepresented yourself over a long period of time and with numbers of people. And you have used the reputation of the staff and the church to cover your tracks.” Ken went on to briefly outline the situations with the grad school and church van. He wanted to mention the special music lists, the tour mix-up, and a host of other things, but he didn’t have firm proof of those.

One of the tenors Steve had recruited raised his hand. “You’re saying that Steve has lied.”

“That’s right. Repeatedly.”

“But how can you prove that?”

“Let me give you an example,” Irv said, and explained how Steve had told him about his classes while the professors said they had never seen him.

“But how do we know that what you’re saying now is true?”

I can’t believe this, Ken thought. If this were about adultery, would anyone ask for videotapes and motel receipts? “Irv and I are not going to go into all the details,” Ken said, “because it’s not fair to Steve. We want Steve to stay in the church and work on this area, and he can’t do that if his every action is for public consumption. This is a leadership issue. The board and I stand behind our assertion that Steve has repeatedly not told the truth.”

The meeting ended soon after, which was just as well, Ken thought. No one was listening anyway because they were caught up by Gloria’s crying.

“We lost that battle,” Irv said in Ken’s office afterward. “Steve’s got that whole choir, except for Clarence and Ruth and a few others, on his side. And from what I can tell, he’s got a good chunk of the rest of the congregation on his side, too.” Irv leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling.

“They think we’re lying,” Ken added. “You can’t minister to people if they think you’re lying to them. And that hurts more than anything. If there’s one thing I try to do, it’s shoot straight.”

“I know. But what are we going to do now?”

“I won’t retreat, Irv. I can’t.”

The next morning Steve’s mother-in-law called Ken at home before seven. “Steve told me about the meeting last night,” she said. “What disturbs me is that it shows you don’t have any proof of what you’re saying. I can’t believe this church has turned into a kangaroo court.”

“We have proof, Doris,” Ken said. “But it looks like the only way we’re going to settle this thing is to get all the responsible parties together. You bring Steve and sit down with me and the board. We’ll go over all the information together. But it’s completely unfair to Steve for me to talk about him when he’s not here to defend himself.” Ken hoped Doris would accept the offer. It was the only way Ken could think of to keep the battle from raging underground, where Ken knew he couldn’t win.

But the offer didn’t slow Doris or her friends. Nearly every day for three weeks, one of them would call to accuse Ken of ousting Steve for personal, unjustifiable reasons. Ken stood firm: “You bring Steve, and we’ll sit down with the board and go over the evidence.”

Ken called Steve several times and told him what he’d told Doris. “They say you’ve never had a chance to defend yourself. Here’s your chance. Come meet with us.” Steve finally sent a letter saying, “I have strong feelings about the way this situation has been handled, the fairness of it” and saying he needed more time for his “emotions to lessen and healing to take place.”

When Ken wasn’t on the phone with Steve or Doris, he was talking with one of the choir members, what few were left. Over half the choir quit after Irv and Ken had met with them, and Ken was trying to keep up morale in the remaining members. “I’m not saying it’s wrong to ask Steve to step down,” one alto told him, “but do we have to kill the entire choir over it?” When he heard that, Ken wanted to cry.

One day Clarence and Ruth called. “Did you hear what Steve’s doing?” they asked.

I’m afraid to ask, Ken thought. “No, what?”

“Ten or twelve people from the choir are meeting at his house every Thursday. We know because we saw their cars parked in front. One can only guess what they’re doing.”

Ken called Steve.

“Why Ken, what a surprise,” Steve crooned.

“Steve, I understand a group from the choir is meeting at your house every Thursday.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Steve, you are not Community Church’s choir director anymore. You should not have half the choir meeting with you every week.”

“They wanted to. It’s an informal thing. We get together to just, er, pray about things at church.”

“I don’t care what the reason is, those meetings have to stop. This is supposed to be a time of repentance for you.” Ken paused, but Steve didn’t say anything. “Steve, however incongruous it might seem, my heart is open to you. But this waiting game must end. I have made it clear we want you to come talk with the board. The ball’s in your court. If you don’t come talk with us in a month, by May 20, we will have to let everyone know that was your choice.”

For Ken, the month felt like thirty days on the rack. Every day people would call: “What’s happening to our choir?” “Ken, you don’t have proof.” “I have questions about the fairness of this whole thing.” Ken stopped scheduling lunch appointments because he couldn’t endure the hour-long assaults. He’d lie awake at night and think, I’m helpless. Jean loves me, Irv supports me, but they can’t protect me.

Ken didn’t do much that month but answer the phone and try to get his sermons together. Every Sunday, he’d look out and see Steve sitting there. “I know I want Steve to stay in the church and be restored,” he told Jean after church one Sunday, “but it feels like a divorcee attending the wedding of a former mate.”

Ken did meet with Irv often. They’d pray, often on their knees, for strength and wisdom. They began to document their claims. Irv pored over all the church financial records dealing with Steve. He found several fishy items. The previous summer the board had authorized Steve to do miscellaneous maintenance projects around the church to supplement his income. The very days when the choir went on tour, when Steve had to work at the 7-Eleven, he submitted a bill for thirty hours of caulking windows.

Ken called Steve’s home pastor in Doylestown. He felt like a rat doing it, but recently he’d gotten a hunch about why Steve had lied about graduate school.

“This is Ken McMahon from Levittown Community Church,” he began. “I want you to listen to me and gain my tone. You may not trust me, but please, listen to what I have to say.”

“Go ahead,” said the pastor.

“Did Steve ever tell you about the graduate music courses he was taking? Were you aware that he has not been taking any classes? Have you been giving him any financial aid?”

“Yes, we give $600 a semester to people studying for church-related careers. You’re saying he hasn’t been going to school?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I want to check on that.”

A few days later the pastor called Ken to say he’d checked with the school, and the church was canceling the financial aid.

Steve arranged to meet with the board on Saturday morning, May 19, one day short of the deadline. He walked into the church lounge at five minutes after nine-alone. Ken was surprised that Doris and Gloria hadn’t come with him. Ken and Irv and Bill Seifert stood up and shook his hand.

“Well, Steve, do you have something to say to us?” Ken asked when they were seated again. Ken felt like a racehorse in the chute-churning inside with adrenaline, anger, and fear, but still under control.

“Yeah, I’d like to apologize for our misunderstandings and for the hardship I’ve caused you.”

“Does that mean you’re admitting that what we’ve done is correct, and that the reason we disciplined you was properly stated?”

“No, I’m not saying that. I’m saying that I’m sorry we misunderstand each other and that I didn’t help in that circumstance.”

“That’s not exactly what we had in mind, Steve,” Ken said.

Irv was sitting next to Steve, and he leaned over, put his arm around him, and began talking in a quiet, steady voice. “Steve, we want you to understand that we love you and want to be reconciled. But the Bible makes it clear that first there needs to be confession of your sin and repentance, a change of mind about that sin. You see, we’re not the ones you have offended. We’re included, but you have offended the church. What we need to know today is whether you are confessing-not just admitting under duress-that you have sinned so that we can be reconciled to you. We’re ready to do that, and we’d like to.”

Steve shifted in his seat and looked out the window. Irv continued, “Let me tell you why that’s necessary. One Sunday last September, you and I talked in the foyer for fifteen minutes about your graduate school experience. You went into great detail about how difficult your choral conducting class was, and how hard your music theory professor was, and about the papers you were writing. The bottom line is, every single one of those things was false, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was.” Steve’s eyes became moist.

Ken outlined the other lies about having to work the weekend of the choir tour, about not dating Gloria, about reporting hours that he hadn’t really worked. Steve admitted to the situations where he could tell they had firm evidence, but he denied all the others. Finally Steve said, “What do you want me to do now?”

“We simply want you to confess your sin to us and the Lord so we can restore you. We would like you to write it out-not to be published, just to help you-and come meet with us again and read it. It would help you and the church if Gloria and her mother came also.”

“All right,” Steve said. “I’ll set up a time, and I’ll call you in two days.”

Then he walked out of the lounge, and Ken never saw him again.

Epilogue: Steve’s mother-in-law left the church shortly thereafter. The church hired a choir director on a temporary basis, then after a year hired a full-time replacement. The church has continued to grow, though the choir remained stagnant for years and only recently has begun turning around. Another church hired Steve, against Ken’s recommendation, and dismissed him one year later. Steve is now serving another church.

Safeguarding against Subterfuge

Deception takes many guises. A church treasurer may skim funds. A board member may falsely recount what you said in a meeting. Regardless of its outward appearance, lying is a deadly weapon. It poisons relationships and trust.

How can we protect ourselves? What strategies can shield us from fleecers, flimflams, and frauds? Based on his own painful experience, Ken McMahon suggests the following:

Watch for repeated patterns of behavior. “Looking back, I can’t believe we didn’t pick up on Steve sooner,” Ken says. “He seemed to leave a trail of debts and unresolved conflict.” When a member of the church repeatedly mishandles money or kicks up dust, there’s usually a character problem inside.

Of course, many mistakes are a sign not of malice but immaturity. How can you distinguish the two? As a general rule, the sincere admit their mistakes and learn from them. The swindler covers his “mistakes” and repeats them. Ken points out: “All Steve had to do was say, ‘I’m sorry, I’m having trouble paying my bills and didn’t tell the truth.’ But he couldn’t, because he feared looking bad. So when I hire somebody now, I look for a person who is not overprotective of his or her image, someone who can openly face detractors.”

Do your homework. If you suspect a parishioner is conning you, gather proof. This step pains most pastors. “I hated checking up on Steve,” Ken says. “First, snooping looks terrible to people outside the church. It gives the church a bad name. Second, playing detective goes against my grain. Maybe it’s our weak spot, but we pastors believe the best of people. To doubt someone in my church, to double-check everything he says, tears me up.”

But only such documentation will stand up in “court,” whether that be a one-on-one confrontation or an all-church meeting. Deception, by its very nature, is the best camouflaged of all sins, the hardest to expose. And when someone is accused, everyone else in the church will demand to see the instant replay. Some inner urge makes people insist on seeing the evidence and deciding for themselves.

Never make a move alone. “Perhaps the biggest tactical error I made,” Ken says, “is that I met with Steve alone several times. I shouldn’t have allowed that. I needed someone like Jean or Irv, someone more discerning who could have firmly called Steve’s bluff.” Plus, when acting alone, no one can corroborate your story and prevent “your word against his” situations.

Ken did, however, involve the board early on, and this proved wise. By acting in concert, each action taken against Steve became a board and church matter, rather than Ken’s personal vendetta. And when the powder keg exploded, the board helped shield Ken from the flying fragments.

Another reason support is needed can be found in Jesus’ description of Satan as the “father of lies.” Any action to expose lying seems a foray into enemy-occupied territory. A pastor can expect to meet unusual spiritual resistance. “I found it almost impossible to pray during this,” Ken says. “I relied on Irv and a woman in our congregation who prayed for me several times a day. When I felt confused, oppressed, and unsure of my ability as a pastor, I needed people who were ‘true worshipers,’ people who have been through deep waters and as a result know how to pray.”

Hide inside the Mighty Fortress. As Ken discovered, even your best efforts may not prevent a considerable amount of damage. “With a practiced deceiver, it’s a no-win situation,” he says. “You never come out unscathed. Only recently have I gotten to the point where I don’t think about Steve every day. The choir is just now coming out of a prolonged drought. People are finally beginning to trust me again.”

But Ken knew where to run for cover. “It’s a truism, but the only thing that mattered in the middle of this was my relationship with the Lord. I finally realized no amount of self-effort could protect me. Yet I was not alone. God protected me.”

Kevin A. Miller is associate editor of LEADERSHIP.

- More from Kevin A. Miller

Pastors

Removing Roadblocks to Board Unity

Larry W. Osborne

Familiar practices and assumptions may be the greatest obstacles to an effective church board.

road closed street sign at end of road country landscape and mountains

My stomach was churning as I turned over in bed. I just couldn't keep my mind from replaying the meeting.

Another sleepless night, I thought, eyes wide open. Why does this happen every month? The ritual torment had to stop, but as long as our board meetings were like tonight's, I knew it wouldn't.

We'd begun with perfunctory prayer and devotions. Jim tried hard to minister to our spirits while most of the group was casually leafing through the financial statistics. A few stared into space.

Following our usual round of reports, we moved on to the evening debates. This time we were considering two possible purchases: a new Communion tablecloth and tires for the church-owned pastor's car.

The tablecloth brought a long and petty discussion. The tires sparked a full-scale argument. Two men squared off about the relative merits of new tires versus retreads. I felt the whole discussion was misdirected; I didn't want or need the car in the first place.

Now wide awake in the dark, I kept thinking: We have to find a way to replace our posturing and battling with a new spirit of teamwork and cooperation.

Eventually we did find a way. In the process I learned an important lesson. Most of the confrontation and divisiveness within our board was not rooted in the board members themselves. It was rooted in our board's structure.

Like many other churches, we had unwittingly set up ourselves for disunity.

When I learned to recognize and remove these structural roadblocks to unity, harmony increased. Here are four of the roadblocks and what we did to remove them.

Meeting in the Wrong Place

When I first came to the church, we held our worship services in a high-school cafeteria. Our monthly board meetings took place in my office, a large, refurbished garage.

On the first Thursday night of each month, I witnessed a mysterious transformation. What had earlier in the day been a place of study and prayer suddenly turned into a battleground of ideas and personalities. Members who had been warm and friendly on Sunday turned critical and petty on Thursday. People who took copious notes of everything I said in the pulpit now questioned everything I said in the board meeting.

I gave little thought to the effect of our environment on the meetings. The chairs were uncomfortable. The lighting was poor and the room a little cold, but though far from ideal, the conditions seemed no worse than the sterile board rooms and long conference tables in my previous churches.

Then one day, in desperation, I suggested we meet at my home. I hoped the ambiance might help.

When we began meeting in my home, members' body language, terminology, and even dress subtly changed. Everyone seemed to relax. Rather than squaring off across a table, we now sat on couches and chairs. When meetings were over, people began to stay and talk rather than quickly leave.

This switch paid the quickest dividends of any change we made. When a board meets in an office or board room, it is surrounded by symbols of the corporate world, where confrontation and competition are expected. A home, on the other hand, is usually identified with warmth, cooperation, and friendship.

There are times when it is best to meet around a conference table, particularly when we want to focus on a specific task, such as budgeting or laying long-range plans. Yet we've found most of a board's work can be completed effectively in the more intimate setting of a home, even when the board is large.

As I've studied other churches, I've become convinced meeting in the wrong place is one of our most common mistakes. Many boards meet in cramped, uncomfortable, or poorly lit rooms. Others gather in cold and sterile environments that practically call out for confrontation. Doing so places an unnecessary roadblock in front of board unity.

Not Enough Focus on Relationships

Our tendency to downplay the building of relationships erected a second roadblock to unity.

I opened one board meeting with a series of "getting to know me" questions. The next morning over breakfast, our chairman informed me that elder meetings were not the proper time for such nonsense. "It's just too inefficient. We have other times and places for socializing."

This "meetings exist for business and business only" outlook meant little time was spent developing relationships. Cultivating trust in the absence of quality relationships proved to be extremely difficult.

To get around this roadblock, I began to look for ways to make sure board members spent more social time together.

First I scheduled an all-day elder retreat. While traveling together in vans, stopping for breakfast on the way, and meeting in a different setting, our sense of unity and togetherness blossomed. We laughed as a die-hard union man and a top-level manager exchanged teasing barbs. We listened intently as one man explained the frustrations and pressures he had been feeling at work. For most of us, it was the first time we had any idea he was seriously considering a move. By the end of the day we had experienced more laughter, kidding, and deep personal dialogue than in all our previous meetings combined.

We now go on a retreat twice a year. Along with building better relationships, these times have consistently produced our best brainstorming sessions and most insightful critiques of ministry, staff, and programs.

Once I began seriously looking for ways to build relationships, even our refreshment breaks offered an opportunity. I simply stopped serving food and coffee at the beginning or end of our meetings. Instead, I served them in the middle of the meeting during a fellowship break.

Prior to this, a few board members arrived just after meetings began and left immediately after they were finished. Rushing in and out, these men rarely shared in the casual conversations needed to cultivate friendship. Yet they were usually the very members most in need of better relationships.

With a refreshment break in the middle of our meetings, every member participated in the small talk and pleasantries that accompany food and drink. No longer could a board member easily avoid social contact with the others. It became increasingly difficult for the loner to be alone.

These opportunities for casual conversation laid the groundwork for a deepening appreciation and understanding of one another. As these developed, a growing sense of trust and unity soon followed.

Not Enough Meetings

A third roadblock was our tendency to meet as infrequently as possible. In our busy world, the last thing most people want is another meeting. Our board members were no exception.

Each summer someone would suggest we skip a meeting because vacation plans and the resulting schedule conflicts made it difficult to get everyone together. We were always quick to agree. With a summer break, we often met fewer than twelve times a year.

While this may have been great for freeing up busy schedules, it played havoc with our board's unity.

Like many other pastors, I had often wondered why church board conflict was so common. One day it dawned on me that most of our conflicts didn't spring from issues as much as our different backgrounds and frames of reference. When a corporate executive, a self-employed contractor, a middle manager, and a school administrator get together, it's no wonder they see things differently. Their educational and professional backgrounds give them radically different points of view. Similar terms and phrases take on totally opposite meanings.

For instance, the man who argued for retreads on the church car was a long-time blue-collar worker. He and his wife shopped at garage sales. The man who wanted the new tires was a former mayor; he was used to overseeing the expenditure of millions. I don't think he'd been to a garage sale or bought anything second-hand in his life.

Without adequate time together, it was impossible to understand or appreciate the unique background and frame of reference each member brought to the board.

Researchers of group dynamics have discovered an important principle: "Whenever a group of people increase the amount of interaction with one another, there is a corresponding increase in their regard and appreciation for one another." I observed this phenomenon many times during my days as a youth pastor when special retreats or conferences pulled a group together.

To help resolve the conflicting frames of reference on the board, I did something I never thought I would do. I added an extra monthly meeting.

I called it a "shepherding meeting." No votes or business decisions were allowed. Instead, we focused on prayer, team-building exercises, instruction in practical ministry, seeking a common vision, and other important concerns we often neglected under the pressure of completing our regularly scheduled business.

At first, these meetings met some resistance. While attendance at the business meetings was perfect, a couple of board members showed up only sporadically at the shepherding meetings. But within one year the problems with absenteeism had disappeared.

By making these extra meetings permanent, I insured long-term benefits. I had previously participated in many board retreats and special meetings designed to renew or solidify a church board. Their impact was almost always short-lived, lasting at most until the membership of the board changed. These ongoing meetings have allowed our board members to continue building a common frame of reference even as the membership of the board has changed.

I believe larger church boards can particularly benefit from this added meeting. Their size limits the number of face-to-face encounters and makes it difficult for members to develop common points of reference. In my experience, the larger the board, the more likely it is to schedule fewer (and longer) meetings in the hope of enabling everyone to attend. No wonder larger boards have lower levels of unity.

Careless Selection Process

Finally, we had structured ourselves for disunity in our selection process.

In our early days, we focused exclusively on spiritual qualifications when selecting board members. While it is still our primary consideration, we have begun to ask some new questions: What effect will this person have upon the unity of our board? How will this person fit in with the ministry team we've developed?

This does not mean potential board members must agree with everything the board has previously decided. It does mean they must be in agreement with the basic thrust of the current ministry. We've found there are good and even godly people who should not serve on our board. Their lack of harmony with our stated goals and direction makes conflict inevitable. Crusaders who want to radically change the direction of ministry or ride a personal hobbyhorse only handicap the ability of the board to carry out its work.

In our quest for unity, we were forced to face a fundamental question: Is the primary purpose of a church board representation or leadership? The answer significantly impacts a board's potential for unity.

When the board's primary purpose was viewed as representing all the opinions and desires of the congregation, we found no legitimate reason to exclude those bent on individual crusades for change. As church members, they had a "right" to push for their viewpoints.

On the other hand, when our purpose was seen as discerning God's leading, rather than "representing" the congregation, there was no need to insure that every holder of a minority opinion was placed in leadership.

Boards that see themselves as representatives rather than leaders have a harder time achieving and maintaining unity. Each minority opinion becomes sacred in the name of pluralism, democracy, and congregationalism. When leadership is the primary task, however, what counts is the ability to work in concert with the general philosophy and direction of the board.

When I began lobbying for a change from "representation" to "leadership," I was amazed by the inconsistent thinking of some resisters. Business people who would have decried a mixture of divergent business philosophies on their company's board of directors turned around and championed pluralism and heterogeneity within the church's leadership board.

Gaining acceptance of the idea of leadership rather than representation took a couple of years to complete. Then we found ourselves facing still another difficult question: Who would be willing to speak out when the nominating committee put forth names of people who would undercut board unity?

It seems everyone agrees that Scripture forbids putting a contentious person in a position of church leadership. Yet many times I've seen just such people appointed or elected to the board.

In one church I watched as a particularly contentious and critical (but highly influential) individual was nominated to serve on the board. He disagreed with just about every ministry decision we had made in the previous three years. When his name was first proposed, one of the other pastors leaned over and whispered, "They've got to be kidding! He'll make a mess of everything!"

I nodded. All of us on the staff knew what his election would mean. We moaned to one another, but not one of us spoke to the nominating committee. We all waited for someone else to say the obvious. A few weeks later he was elected to a three-year term, and, true to form, he became a major source of problems. Mercifully, his term ended one year early when he left the church in a huff.

To avoid this type of situation, someone had to muster the courage to speak up. I finally decided that I, as senior pastor, must lead the way. As long as I refused to speak, no one else would either.

I still remember the first time I vetoed a nomination. A godly man with a philosophy of leadership totally different from the rest of the board had been suggested to the committee by some members of the congregation. When the nominating committee came to his name, an uncomfortable silence followed. He was a good man who had faithfully served the church in the past, yet every one of us knew he wouldn't fit in with the team. The problems would be philosophical, not spiritual, but problems nonetheless.

Finally I swallowed hard and said, "I don't think we should recommend him; we'll spend all our meetings going around in circles."

That broke a barrier. The real issue was now on the table. A couple others spoke in agreement. Another questioned if the differences were all that great.

After a brief discussion we unanimously decided to nominate someone else. That consensus would have remained unspoken and unacted upon had I not spoken up. Since then, others have learned to speak out. No longer am I the only one, or even the first, to give a negative report.

We've never had a problem with confidentiality because we expect those on our nominating committee to have the maturity to know "what is said here remains here." Even so, we try to be careful with what we say and how we say it. I certainly don't want everything I say repeated. But if it happens, I can live with the consequences if I have spoken truthfully and weighed carefully my words.

Choosing to get involved in the selection process can be risky for a pastor. A pastoral veto can lead to great hurt and increased animosity. My own decision to become an outspoken member of the nominating committee contradicted the advice of some of my most trusted advisers. But after careful, prayerful consideration, I did so anyway. I figured I had little to lose. I'd already witnessed and experienced the results of silence too many times.

The Unified Board

Removing these roadblocks to unity radically changed our board. One particular incident stands out in my mind whenever I reflect upon the contrast between those early confrontive days and the unity we now experience.

A young father and I sat talking in my office. A change in his wife's work schedule and other commitments had made it impossible for him to serve on the board during the coming year.

As he told me his decision, his eyes filled with tears. I knew him well, but I had never seen him cry before. He wasn't the type.

When he finally spoke, he said simply, "I'm going to miss the gang."

Though disappointed by his decision, I couldn't help myself; as soon as he had left my office I let out a shout, leaned back in my chair, and sat there with a silly grin. We had definitely turned the corner.

Yes, unity is possible. It can be developed even in boards that have never known its joy before. Board meetings can actually become an enjoyable and fulfilling part of ministry-if we first learn to get the roadblocks out of the way.

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

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Pastors

FROM THE EDITOR

Terry C. Muck

We had finished the game two hours earlier and were sitting at a large, round table in Luigi’s. Pizza had been ordered; in the meantime we were sipping soft drinks or beer.

The air in Luigi’s was wet and warm. Other softball players, some from our team, many from other teams, crowded the tables around us. The sweat from the game was only partially dried, adding to the locker room atmosphere; but the effect was not at all unpleasant. It was happy camaraderie, a cave-like sense of well-being, isolated from the outside world.

Loud conversation filled the room. The subject was softball. At our table, we replayed our victory in detail, playfully chiding those who had made mistakes, congratulating the night’s heroes. Other nights the talk might have been of defeat, and we would have agonized over those same mistakes and wondered “just what’s wrong with our ball club?”

In either case the talk was sincere and easily understood by everyone. We were teammates, and teammates behave that way.

I have often wondered about the easy camaraderie on the baseball and softball teams I have played on for twenty-two years. Why is conversation so easy? Why are friendships so quickly made? How can the ambiance be so accepting that even the poor guy who makes a game-costing error is quickly accepted by all once we get to Luigi’s?

It certainly isn’t because we are so much alike. I look around the table and see a tool-and-die maker, a well-to-do suburbanite who sells paper, a high school teacher, a football coach, and a retired navy officer.

Occasionally, out of a curious sense of courtesy, perhaps, we ask one another about our jobs. But no one listens very closely to the answers. Sometimes the feelings are heard—if one of our number has been fired or received a promotion, it is occasion for commiseration or congratulation—but I can’t tell the tool-and-die maker what it’s like to edit a magazine, and he can’t really tell me about his business.

Nor is it because we have discovered some magic formula for conversation. We have varying abilities to articulate concepts and feelings. We say the wrong things, stumble for words, interrupt one another, and miss obvious signals of distress and need.

No, I’ve decided the reason things work for us is because we share a common passion: softball. We revel in it and love to talk about it. We can recall details of games ten years earlier with uncanny accuracy; we can analyze our current team’s strengths and weaknesses for hours on end; we can talk with evangelistic fervor about strategy and our future prospects. No conversation ever strays from softball for any significant length of time.

The best times I’ve had with church people have many elements in common with the softball fellowship I have just described.

They have occurred not because we were alike—my church is made up of people from all classes, varied occupations, and all age levels. And they haven’t occurred because we have discovered new formulas for resolving conflict, or encouraging one another, or discussing the issues of the day.

The best times have come when we all focused our conversations on our passion for Jesus Christ and the consequences that passion has for our present church and the church we want to be in the future.

The implications of this should encourage us to work on several lessons.

First, learn to steer conversations toward our common passion. John Bunyan, in his classic allegory, The Pilgrim’s Progress, has the wanderer, Piety, ask the book’s hero, Christian, the perfect unity-promoting question: “What moved you first to betake yourself to the pilgrim’s life?”

Count how many times you hear that question asked in your church in the next month, and you probably will get a fair reading on the spiritual unity of your church. Count how many times you ask a similar question, and you will have an idea of how much you contribute to that unity.

Second, learn your own answer to that question by heart. Write out your answer in five hundred words; use Paul’s testimonies in Acts 22 (500 words) and Acts 26 (550 words) as your models. Sharing stories with others of like passion in the church should be the core of our conversation.

Third, learn your church’s strategy, tactics, and mission by heart. Is our church fulfilling the general mandate of all churches (evangelism and discipleship) and the specific mandate of this church (meeting the needs of this community)? For living churches, that is a common, never-ending concern.

That’s the kind of discussion that reflects the true unity of the church. Anything else is artificial and contrived. Only passion for God produces the unity Psalm 133 describes:

“How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity! It is like precious oil poured on the head, running down on the beard, running down on Aaron’s beard, down upon the collar of his robes. It is as if the dew of Hermon were falling on Mount Zion. For there the Lord bestows his blessing, even life forevermore.”

Terry C. Muck is editor of LEADERSHIP.

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Pastors

TOWARD BETTER BOARD RELATIONSHIPS

Charles R. Swindoll

Quality interaction is the grease that keeps the wheels turning.

The preceding article dealt with some common practices that influence board unity. This article focuses on another important unifying element: the kinds of personal relationships pastors develop with board members.

Several years ago I was playing racketball with another minister. The score was close. The serve went back and forth.

Suddenly, as if propelled by a squirt of adrenaline, the guy blew me away. His serves became powerful, his backhand flawless, his accuracy on those low shots in the corner deadly.

I knew he was good-but not that good!

Soundly defeated and drenched with sweat, I took him by the shoulders and said, “OK, Hercules, what’s with you? How did you pull that off?”

“Well, Chuck,” he said, smiling broadly, “I did play beyond my ability. It started when I began to think about last night’s board meeting. I got madder and madder and smashed that deacon’s face all over this court! It’s amazing how a bad board meeting improves my game.” We laughed and headed for the showers.

I’ve thought about that dozens of times since and remembered it when his church went through a wrenching split that left the ministry in shambles and him and his family in bitter disillusionment.

Don’t misunderstand; there’s a lot to say for diffusing hostility in a game of racketball or a round of golf. Who knows how many pastors keep their sanity intact because of such outlets. Maybe that’s why we compete so ferociously.

But the need for a better relationship between pastors and board members is apparent, and in some cases, acute.

When conversations with fellow ministers get beneath the surface, this subject is frequently mentioned. And it is not uncommon for board members to contact me about struggles with their ministers. “How can we ask hard questions without leaving the wrong impression?” they ask. “What makes him so volatile and defensive?”

Our situation reminds me of a description of arms talks by former secretary of state Dean Rusk: “We negotiate eyeball-to-eyeball, and each side is afraid to blink.” Unfortunately, that is not confined to the political arena.

Possible Conflicts

Conflicts between a pastor and board don’t limit themselves to one or two tension areas. Here are just a few possible war zones:

Confusion about goals-A pastor might think, “I explain where this church is going and often review how we can get there, but my board members don’t seem interested.” A member of his board might be thinking (believe it or not), “I wish the pastor would tell us what we are trying to do as a church. I don’t see the big picture.”

Broken relationships can blind and deafen. The words that leave one person’s mouth may never enter another’s ears or, perhaps worse, may be heard in a twisted manner.

Training and discipleship-Pastors often declare, “I wish my board would take the reins of leadership, but they seem reluctant to accept training, especially from me.” To this, some of his board members might silently respond, “Our minister says he’d like us to be more involved in leadership, but he’s not just efficient, he’s superefficient. How could I ever help him?”

Traditional vs. contemporary style-A youthful pastor often wants the church to address today’s needs in today’s terms. With vigor, he presses the issue of contemporaneity, and that touches music, style of worship, pulpit terminology, dress, youth programing, and other long-standing untouchables.

The board, lacking confidence in his leadership and fearing the unknown, balks. “Why can’t our preacher just preach the Word, visit the sick, marry and bury, and do the basic stuff? Before we know it, we’ll lose our older members.”

Desire to know one another-A pastor might sigh, “I realize our relationship would be more productive if I could really get to know the people on my board, but somehow it doesn’t get done.”

A lay leader might be thinking, “I would give anything to know my pastor better. But who am I to take his time? He’s always so busy, plus he has a lot of other people who need his help. And if he did get to know me, he might not respect me as much.”

These examples could easily be multiplied.

Roots of the Problem

Church leaders often clash because they approach situations from different perspectives. A few examples:

Pastors possess a theological or biblical perspective, a problem-solving method they probably picked up in seminary. Board members solve problems more pragmatically, a tried-and-true method they learned in business. It’s the idealism/realism rub.

Pastors live in the culture of the church. They wrestle with, think about, pray over, and talk through the issues from the hothouse mind set. But the board members? They live and work in the “real” world and wrestle with church-related problems on the side. In board meetings, the pastor is on familiar turf, the lay person on foreign soil.

Pastors are identified with their ministries, so their egos get intertwined in tough-issue discussions. Board members are often more objective and less sensitive about church matters. It’s easy for pastors to feel personally attacked (especially if they are insecure) when board members are determined to solve the problem (especially if they are insensitive).

People with different perspectives are a lot like two ships passing on a foggy night, moving in different directions, not able to see the other. Except for a few flashing lights, the roar of massive engines, and the blast of a loud horn, it’s as if they were in the deep all alone. A collision is always a threat.

Perhaps Jesus’ periodic struggles with his “board” of twelve were intensified because of this. He described to them a different perspective-the kingdom of God.

What Is Needed

Jesus committed himself to those men in depth. As Mark 3:14 states: “He appointed twelve, that they might be with him, and that he might send them out to preach.” Before they were sent forth to preach, the disciples were to spend time with him. If I track those words correctly, they really got to know one another. They traveled together, spent nights together, ate together, took time off together, hammered out problems together, evaluated their lives and their mission together.

Robert Coleman, in The Master Plan of Evangelism, sums up the idea well:

“Frequently he would take them with him in a retreat to some mountainous area of the country. … The time that Jesus invested in these few disciples was so much more by comparison to that given to others that it can only be regarded as a deliberate strategy. He actually spent more time with his disciples than with everybody else in the world put together.”

Problems to Overcome

As I write this, I can almost see your frown. Two problems make us question the possibility of this:

Problem 1-“This is hard.” My answer: “You aren’t kidding!” I wish I could say I am doing all these things. I’m not, and neither are many others.

The willingness to be candid, available, and confidential is rare. Isolation is more in vogue-especially for ministers. Psychological studies reveal we tend to be more studious and introverted than the average leader. We may attract board members with similar personality bents. A roomful of introverts doesn’t make for an easy, breezy, let’s-become-better-friends group.

Further, it takes a lot of time and energy to make friends with eight, nine, or ten people. Peter Drucker says you can’t hope to accomplish anything in a meeting of less than forty-five minutes. An intense, forty-five-minute meeting drains the creative juice most preachers would rather pour into sermon preparation and most lay leaders would rather expend on some business deal.

The task is further complicated by such things as personal preference (“I enjoy Russell more than Harry”) and turnover (just when you are getting to know Frank, his term expires or he moves out of town).

Problem 2-“This is risky.” Both sides must be willing to be rejected and shown to be wrong on occasion. That’s risky.

A LEADERSHIP survey showed that laymen generally view pastors as more deficient in the area of making friends than pastors think they really are. Such blind spots are painful to admit.

Another obstacle is the pedestal on which pastors are often placed, even though we may work hard to stay off such perilous and unbiblical perches. In the same survey 14 percent of the pastors rated their spiritual life as “excellent,” yet 46 percent of the lay leaders thought their pastor’s spiritual life was “excellent.”

Getting to know each other means phony images must crumble and distance-making formalities must be set aside. A first-name basis and an unguarded, give-and-take style must somehow be encouraged.

Some Practical Suggestions

How can pastors and boards cultivate better interpersonal relationships?

1. Schedule time together between official meetings, whether one-on-one or with a few. It can be in the pastor’s or a member’s home for an evening (with spouses), or over lunch.

Tomorrow morning I have initiated a breakfast meeting with five key board members as we work through a matter for our congregational business meeting next Sunday. But sometimes the get-together may simply be for social purposes. I’ve found I must plan these times well in advance, or they won’t happen.

2. Get away for overnight retreats. One of the best decisions we made several years ago at our church was to have pastor-elder retreats at least twice a year. These are great times for getting beneath the surface of one another’s lives as well as evaluating our ministry. We eat together, enjoy some needed laughter, and have extended times of prayer with each other. Sharing rooms together overnight also helps us break down barriers among one another. We always come back closer and in better harmony. Start doing this, perhaps on a once-a-year basis, shortly after the annual election of your new board members. It is imperative that every member attend these times, by the way.

3. Translate attitudes into actions. You love your spouse, but it sure does help to say so. You enjoy your kids, but a warm embrace communicates your attitude. Pastors and board members need to tell each other how grateful they are for their time, energy, and commitment.

Written notes are appreciated. A sincere, firm handshake and an eyeball-to-eyeball look never fail to encourage. A phone call is another way of translating our attitudes into action.

4. Support each team member. We all have enough enemies; each of us wrestles with sufficient self-depreciating thoughts. Let’s become loyal in our support of one another, especially in each other’s absence.

If we have areas of disagreement, and we will, let’s work them out face to face, courteously and confidentially. Pastors, let’s not use the pulpit as a hammer to settle arguments. Board members, let’s seal our lips when damage could be done to the ministry by an uncontrolled tongue.

And whenever push comes to shove, play racketball. Nobody needs to know why you suddenly start playing better.

Charles R. Swindoll is pastor of First Evangelical Free Church in Fullerton, California.

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Pastors

The Subtle Sin of Ergocentricity

Calvin Ratz

Surely the needs of my ministry trump yours …

From around the corner I heard raised voices.

"Don't your kids do anything but play basketball?" It was our women's leader, not normally shrill of voice. "Surely you know we're preparing for a missions banquet. We expect to raise $10,000 for an orphanage in Zaire. Our banquet has priority over a silly basketball game!"

"This is no silly basketball game!" countered the youth leader. "We've been planning this for two months. I've got a Christian pro basketball player coming to speak. We're expecting more than fifty non-Christian teenagers to be here. What do we communicate to teens if we cancel an opportunity to evangelize here so we can send money to Africa?"

There they were, two department heads in the same church, both genuinely loving the same Lord and trying to serve him, yet both shouting at each other. Through an office error, both had received approval to use the gym on the same evening.

Their arguments interested me. They didn't try to determine who'd booked the gym first or who was at fault. The question was: Whose work is more important? Which ministry has priority? What is more significant: raising $10,000 for an orphanage in Zaire or reaching fifty teens with the gospel? The disease I detected was ergocentricity—the attitude that says, "My work is more important than yours."

Self-centeredness and self-sufficiency surface in many forms. The egocentric person, caught up with himself, says, "I am more important than you are." The ethnocentric person says, "My culture is more important than yours," which is an attitude missionaries wrestle with as they try to understand Christian lifestyles overseas. Ergocentricity is perhaps less understood. It's the attitude that surfaces when we're so engrossed in our task, when our ministries so consume our emotional energy, we forget the legitimacy of what others are doing.

Ergocentricity shows up in a variety of situations.

George was the pastor responsible for setting up small-group ministry in a large church. With great enthusiasm, George prepared the congregation. Then he dropped the bombshell at the staff meeting: he expected the six other pastors and their wives to participate in the groups. The fact that the other pastors were tied up most nights with children's meetings, calling programs, converts' classes, and choirs didn't enter the picture. George expected the staff members to shuffle the other activities on their schedules to make room for the small-group meetings, which, of course, he considered more important. "The people have to see we're all behind this," George argued.

George failed to see the equal importance of the other ministries. The significance of his program was in no way undermined by the other pastors continuing with choir cantatas, counseling sessions, and youth ministries. But in his passion to do what God had given him to do, he was blind to what God had entrusted to others.

George's persistence resulted in serious tension around the office. Other staff members resented the new small-group ministry. In the end it was deemed counterproductive to the rest of the church's ministry and eventually dropped.

Ergocentricity can be deadly. It's divisive. It breaks relationships. It breeds pride and pettiness.

I wrestled with ergocentricity when I returned home after ten years of missionary work in Africa and Asia. As I visited churches, I saw pastors erecting multimillion-dollar complexes that I considered ornate examples of poor stewardship. After struggling overseas with inadequate facilities and equipment yet seeing a great response to the gospel, it seemed to me my work was more important than what was being done in these plush buildings. My work deserved a bigger slice of the church's financial pie!

What I failed to see was that ergocentricity infected me just as much as the pastors who had little interest in my missionary work. I was so caught up in what I saw God doing overseas that I failed to appreciate what God was doing through my brothers at home. In actuality, my work was no more important than theirs. We both served the kingdom of God.

Since then I've run into other manifestations, such as pastoral ergocentricity that intimates: I'm doing the spiritual work around here. I preach. I counsel. I marry the living and bury the dead. You folks in the pew can paint the classrooms, landscape the lot, and tend the nursery. Just leave the significant work to me.

Single-agenda folks pester the pastor with ergocentric viewpoints. One man recently blasted me because nowhere in our three dozen ministry programs do we have something specifically for alcoholics. He suggested we cut some of our present ministries to make room for his program since, in his view, most anything is secondary to helping alcoholics. Although I shared his concern, I couldn't disrupt other valuable programs simply because he felt his deserved top priority.

Ergocentricity is costly, unity priceless. A Christocentric body unites the work of all its members, glorifying Christ, who is the most important.

—Calvin Ratz

Abbotsford (British Columbia)

Pentecostal Assembly

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Pastors

GILT BY ASSOCIATION

Wayne Jacobsen

Despite their tarrished reputations, ministerial gatherings present golden opportunities for more than coffee and competition.

The dreaded announcement arrives; another ministerial meeting has rolled around. You know you should put in an appearance. After all, it’s been a while. But excuses instantly come to mind: This has been a hectic week or I really need more time on my sermon. In the end you decide to go, but you sit through the meeting convinced you’re wasting your time. The agenda bores you, and you wouldn’t choose to spend time with these people otherwise.

If that’s your reaction to ministerial gatherings, you’re not alone. I know the feeling. But now I am part of two very different ministerial fellowships, and (dare I say it?) I actually enjoy them both.

First, I’m involved with that oft-decried group, the local ministerium, complete with officers, agendas, and committee work. I don’t always know everyone at the meetings, and the conversation occasionally turns superficial. Our only common bond is that we happen to be pastors in the same city.

I also belong to a more intimate group of five pastors who look to each other’s counsel for our personal lives and ministries. We selected each other because we hold similar theological perspectives and nearly identical visions for our churches. We live in different cities. Our informal group doesn’t worry about officers, agendas, or committees.

Each of these groups in its own way has provided me with a wealth of friendships, ideas, resources, personal care, and opportunities for extended ministry.

The Local Ministerium

The many pitfalls of municipal ministeriums account for their poor reputation. As a rule, they are poorly attended, and those who do participate often do not form a cross section of the churches in the community. The meetings are sometimes attended only for their symbolic value. Further, contact between pastors all too often acts as a breeding ground for one-upmanship. I’ve found, however, that these problems can be overcome-and should be for the greater benefit of us all.

I was not an easy convert to that conclusion. This is only the second city in which I have pastored, and I never attended a ministerial meeting in the first. When I moved to Visalia to pioneer a new congregation, however, I felt duty bound to attend. The meetings, uninteresting and sparsely attended, matched my expectations. But their dullness didn’t deter me; an hour and a half of boredom a month, I figured, was a reasonable price to pay for keeping the peace with other pastors. So I went regularly, and through that steady contact something happened I hadn’t planned: I started liking the pastors, and even the meetings themselves.

That seems to be a universally expressed sentiment in our fellowship. I regularly hear such superlatives as “most enjoyable” or “friendliest” as pastors describe our group. Almost all the major churches in this community are represented, bringing together a wide spectrum of theological dispositions.

Why does this association work when others fail? It succeeds because this group understands what a ministerial fellowship can do well and what it shouldn’t attempt at all.

Here are the needs I see our fellowship meeting:

Â A place for relationships to begin. When asked why they participated in the Visalia Ministerial Fellowship, most of the pastors instantly said, “Friendships.” You can’t force people into friendships, but a ministerial fellowship can provide a place for friendships to begin.

Pastors’ needs for friendship vary. “I’m terribly lonely, and this group meets a real need for me,” one pastor admitted. Some pastors won’t allow themselves deep personal relationships in their own congregations, and the demands of ministry preclude time to build them elsewhere. The ministerium provides them with opportunities found nowhere else. Other pastors have their deep needs met elsewhere but still find simple friendships with other ministers a great asset to ministry. “It’s a pressure-relief valve,” says another pastor.

And what a witness it is when ministers meet each other in the community with familiarity and joy. I sometimes spot other ministers as I leave a restaurant. I’ll stop to exchange greetings and joke about something we’ve discussed before. It’s fun to watch the faces of the bystanders, surprised that pastors can be such good friends.

Â A clearing-house for cooperation. Cooperation at a ministerial level can be tricky. Some pastors want to picket gay bars, others push to issue statements condemning the KKK, and still others want everyone involved in a hunger walk. Haggling over which issues should get the universal attention of the ministerium accentuates differences and, if any theological bias prevails, alienates others from participating.

While we do cooperate on such “safe” areas as helping finance a hospital chaplain, supporting the local rescue mission, and sponsoring four community worship services a year, we make sure those efforts represent all of us and not just a simple majority. For ideas with less universal appeal, the fellowship becomes a clearing-house for matching pastors with common concerns. Instead of debating what kind of evangelistic speaker would be best for Visalia, we let individual churches or other groups sponsor them and then invite members of the fellowship to get involved.

Our friendship also allows us to cooperate in another area-meeting people’s needs. Privately we’ve discussed people who church-hop to cause trouble or take advantage of people’s generosity. I know of at least one case where a pastor recommended a couple to our congregation because he thought we would better fit what they were seeking.

Â A forum for continuing education. We set aside a brief time each meeting for input to increase our pastoral effectiveness. We’ve had civic leaders tell us about public policy affecting church ministry, inspirational talks by some of our own ministers, and seminars on counseling or administration. We find many willing to share their expertise with us.

Â A place of accountability. It’s easy to gossip about people or chuckle at their struggle when you don’t know them. So many communities are fragmented by rumors about churches and pastors that often have little basis in fact, and the factual gossip is rarely dealt with in love, if it is handled at all.

When I sit across a table from someone every month, I am more accountable in what I say about him or her elsewhere, what I believe about him from suspicious sources, and how I respond to him when he is hurting.

Our participation saves us from the deceit of isolation. As Vern Heidebrecht of Neighborhood Church said, “It shows me the work of God is much bigger than any church. If anyone is too depressed or too elated in his own efforts, this puts it in perspective.”

A More Intimate Fellowship

A group of five pastors from churches within a forty-mile radius of Visalia comprises my other fellowship. Because I pastor an independent congregation, this may be my substitute for a denomination. We have sought out each other because we share almost identical ministry objectives. That gives us an edge over pastors who gather just because they happen to lead nearby congregations with the same brand name.

Our relationship varies greatly from the local ministerium. This is raw fellowship. We gather with no agenda or plans-only two hours set aside every three to four weeks to open our lives and ministries to each other. Our meetings rotate from office to office, with the host pastor chairing each meeting. Our common theological orientation allows us to worship and pray together freely. We seek God’s presence not only for our own lives and congregations but for our part of California.

We also share together honestly, shattering the pastoral veneer that is so easy to hide behind. Weaknesses emerge as well as strengths, fears as well as joys. We’ve walked with each other through feelings of failure, inferiority, and ineffectiveness. Together we’ve battled desires to resign, the stress caused by overwork, and the painful comments made about us. We treasure the freedom to share one another’s blessings and joys, unmarred by the insincerity or envy so hard to avoid in broader fellowships.

We counsel each other, searching the Scriptures for its relevance in our lives. We look beyond success stories to encourage one another’s obedience to God, especially when the pathway proves rocky. We mull over ideas, issues, and ministry tactics.

Often these discoveries are made with unity, although at times we also discover differences we easily forget are there. Even this diversity, however, does not tear us apart, because we hold so much else in common. These are friendships of the deepest kind, where it is safe to be honest even when it accentuates our differences-a luxury ministeriums can’t risk without being exclusive or divisive.

Periodically we bring our wives along for a night out or a two-day trip to the coast. We have fun with each other, whether in prayer or a late-night game of Trivial Pursuit. Often it is the latter that helps us escape the pressing concerns of ministry enough to turn around the next day and view them with a fresh perspective.

Though I share much the same kind of relationship with leaders in the congregation and could easily have personal needs met there, I still treasure this time. It expands my focus beyond my own congregation and keeps me from being too ingrown.

What Makes a Successful Ministers’ Group

Even though these two groups differ greatly, their successes rest on the same platform. An effective pastoral fellowship is no accident; like a garden, it must be carefully cultivated. Without that kind of effort, it will not be fruitful; it will degenerate into a weed patch of gossip, suspicion, competition, and judgment.

Here are five factors I’ve found important to make a pastoral fellowship fulfilling instead of draining:

1. Common, realistic objectives. I am idealistic to a fault, but every now and then I find someone even more so, like the pastor frustrated because the local ministerium didn’t “spend time on their faces in prayer for God to send a revival to our city.” I’d love to pray that way with other pastors, but the common vision and prayer styles such a moment demands simply don’t exist there. I’m not sure we could even agree on what a revival would look like if it did come.

We do pray together-for each other’s needs and in more general ways for our city-but we must be careful that a certain style of prayer does not act as a pruning shear to ministerial fellowship, cutting off those to whom it would be uncomfortable.

Our fellowship holds one objective above all others: to provide a place for pastors to become friends. That’s important, even though it means I fellowship with some pastors with whom I differ on theology. Knowing them, however, and opening relationships of mutual respect can only be helpful.

My group of five pastors also needs common, realistic objectives, though they differ from those of the local ministerial fellowship. We all agree on our overall purpose: to hear together what God is saying to his church and to help each other be more effective. But shooting for unity on the smaller objectives, we don’t always hit the mark.

One retreat proved to be a real fiasco. The five of us showed up with five different expectations. One came out of a spiritual drought and wanted to pray and share the entire time. Another hadn’t been away with his wife in years and just wanted to enjoy her company. Others wanted to play on the beach, and still others wanted all of the above. As you might imagine, that retreat was rough sailing. We learned again the importance of having common objectives that can be realistically fulfilled by the group.

2. A personal vision. When the group objectives are clear, pastors are free to find their own stake in the group. How can the group best equip me to extend God’s kingdom? How will it aid my church to be linked with others in the area?

I had to think through why I participated, other than for “symbolic unity.” Symbolism without substance is fruitless. And ministeriums make poor symbols anyway, because no one is even looking at them.

So I’ve clarified my objectives: to open lines of communication with other pastors and churches, to build friendships, and to learn to cooperate on joint efforts. When these objectives are met, I can do more in this community.

My intimate pastors’ group, too, flounders when any one of us loses his personal reason for coming. The conversation so easily degenerates into weightless cordiality unless everyone has heartfelt reasons for being there.

3. Committed participation. The demands of a busy schedule often lay waste to even the best intentions, but no ministers’ fellowship can be effective if people don’t participate regularly. How can I know the bulk of ministers in this community if the bulk of them don’t come? Nothing dooms a group faster than haphazard participation. We understand this within the church, but unfortunately we pastors imitate the problem in our associations outside our churches.

I attend every ministerial meeting unless I’m sick, out of town, or attending to an emergency-a real emergency. That’s what it takes to make a ministers’ group of any substance. I’ve noticed those who come regularly never gripe about the group because they are working to make it better. Complainers, I’ve found, are the sporadic attenders.

Participation means more than attendance; it demands involvement. If I go, sit alone, and join in conversation only to appear cordial, I will find the fellowship ineffective. Even as a pastor, I need to be reminded to share the burdens of others and not just look out for myself.

The intimate group demands even greater commitment, even as it offers perhaps greater rewards. Were we not sold out to each other, we could not meet effectively-and probably would not anyway. Any absent body or wandering attention makes itself glaringly apparent in this smaller group.

4. Openness. Pastors of perfect churches who have nothing to learn from anyone else needn’t bother to attend ministerial meetings. They’ll waste their time and everyone else’s. Superiority is an insurmountable barrier to fellowship. Roy King, pastor of First Christian Church in Visalia, related a telling comment made to him by a minister in Texas: “Don’t you know that everything you do is blasphemous to me? It is impossible for us to have fellowship.”

Openness is needed on two fronts. First we need to be open about our own life and ministry: “I want to understand and appreciate others, but I also bear my Lutheran background without apology.” That kind of security is rare but so essential to good fellowship.

Second, we need to be open to others. Ernie Kumpe, pastor of First Assembly here, put it best: “We have to receive people for what they are and where they are. We can only proceed if we acknowledge them as peers and not look down on them because they believe differently.”

Some pastors can’t get past that, especially when they feel someone’s theology is too skewed to be called the gospel. I too have struggled with how wide to make the fold, but that doesn’t mean I can’t build a relationship with those I can’t agree with, at least as a peer in the same profession, with the hope that the future may bring change.

At the heart of openness is trust. It must be built into any ministers’ fellowship for it to be effective.

5. Humor. I doubt any ministers’ group can long survive without humor. Stiff meetings and stiff relationships will kill a group. There are too many life-and-death matters in this profession as it is. Times with others can be enriching without being heavy and sober. If I’m too pious to have fun, I’m probably too wrapped up in my own efforts. Laughter is the fruit of camaraderie. Humor sets us at ease; it helps us not take ourselves too seriously.

Fellowship among pastors can be a valuable asset not only for the kingdom of God but for our personal ministries as well. If that kind of fellowship isn’t already available, just remember that every fellowship needs an instigator, someone who gets tired of dull meetings and champions a new purpose for the group until it becomes fruitful for all.

Wayne Jacobsen is pastor of The Savior’s Community, Visalia, California.

WHY MINISTERS NEED EACH OTHER

The wife of a local minister and long-time friend has been hospitalized with a serious illness. His mother just died, and his father, unable to live alone, seems destined for a nursing home. His brother is severely handicapped and in constant need of care. His daughter suffers from an undiagnosed illness serious enough for the family to spend Christmas at the Mayo Clinic. He, like Job, is going through a period of testing.

In northern Missouri another brother in ministry is nearing retirement. Since he has spent all his married life in a parsonage, he is concerned about where he and his wife will live when he can no longer preach. He thinks their savings will enable them to buy a small house trailer, but he is not sure. His worries may seem insignificant to the congregation-perhaps even unspiritual-but they are very real to him.

Last October a fellow minister in the midst of a midlife crisis divorced his wife. Some months later, he and his estranged wife were remarried, and now he is trying to pick up the pieces and start all over again. He is a bruised reed that is about to break, smoking flax about to go out.

Recently I received a phone call from a long-time friend whose ministry is under fire. The by-laws of his church require a simple majority vote of the congregation for him to stay. He felt he needed at least a 75-percent vote of affirmation to feel positive about remaining. The actual tally fell somewhere in between. While others in that church may fall to sleep quickly after the evening news, this man will lie awake and ponder why.

Not long ago I visited a minister in Illinois who for thirty-seven years had faithfully served the same church-an ethnic congregation in which he conducted services in his native language as well as English. Earlier, he had turned down many opportunities to move. Now he felt the need to move, but his age and the needs of churches made the move highly unlikely. His discouragement was palpable, yet he told me even his closest friends appear to care little about his personal Gethsemane.

On the surface it seems our needs are as diverse as we are. Our problems run the gamut from the physical and financial to the emotional and spiritual. These difficulties are compounded by the fact that we are a misunderstood minority, which society as a whole has no way of relating to or understanding in an adequate way. As Kermit the Frog said, “It’s not easy being green.”

How can we ease the pains of one another in ministry? With love.

This answer may seem simplistic when we hear of the minister whose wife is critically ill, or whose son has just been expelled from college, or whose car is about to be repossessed. I have a growing conviction, however, that the small, loving act is always on target.

Once, during a traumatic episode in my life, an encouraging call came from Vancouver, Washington. A minister there had promised his aunt he would call me, and he did. At the time he phoned, however, his aunt had been dead for over ten years. I will always be convinced the Holy Spirit prompted him to honor his promise at that time of particular need in my life.

Consequently, I make a lot of phone calls. When I hear a fellow minister has a problem, I give him that same kind of call I received in my hour of need. Some casual acquaintances have become the closest of friends when I simply recognized their need to be loved.

I remember raising one friend out of the doldrums with a little humor. When I heard he had been fired, I said, “Praise the Lord! You were lucky you didn’t have to chew off your leg to get out of a trap like that.” I see him now several times a year, and each time we chuckle about chewing off a leg. He is happier now in a new ministry than ever before and just turned down an opportunity to move. What he needed most was love.

Don’t we all. Ministry harbors hurts sometimes only God and another minister can fully understand.

-Boyce Mouton

Christian Church

Carl Junction, Missouri

- More from Wayne Jacobsen

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CHAPTER VI

Motives for the Christian life…

The Christian life receives its strongest motive to God’s work through the person and redemptive act of Christ.

Imperfection and endeavor of the Christian life

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In this series

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NEW AND NOTEWORTHY

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Meeting in the Wrong Place

Not Enough Focus on Relationships

Not Enough Meetings

Careless Selection Process

The Unified Board

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Possible Conflicts

Roots of the Problem

What Is Needed

Problems to Overcome

Some Practical Suggestions

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The Local Ministerium

A More Intimate Fellowship

What Makes a Successful Ministers’ Group

WHY MINISTERS NEED EACH OTHER

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