Problem Solving

A danger in any “problem-solving” column is pat answers. Because of that, we hesitated to develop such a column. Yet often an “outsider” to a problem can cut through the fog with brief objectivity and fresh ideas.

So, for the next few issues we’ve decided to reserve this space to look at specific problems sent to us by you, the reader. (Questions should be addressed to Leadership Problems, 465 (Gundersen Drive, Carol Stream, IL 60187. All inquiries will be kept confidential.) ‘

Ted Engstrom, William Enright, Ezra Earl Jones, and Haddon Robinson discussed the following letter. The response is based on their observations.

I am very concerned that LEADERSHIP speak to smaller churches We have few financial resources or professional personnel to provide us with the help we need.

Just last Tuesday my board said I was wasting too much time doing non-pastoral things and not doing the essentials-primarily membership visitation. I know that in larger churches the pastor doesn’t have to worry about visitation. But in smaller churches the people expect it-almost demand it.

My problem isn’t one of time management; it’s a conflict of philosophies. I feel that if our church is to grow, I need to spend my time visiting local residents who haven’t attended and the new people in town (4,000 population). Visiting members should not be essential.

Will you address yourself to this?

This inquiry presents an excellent opportunity to turn what seems like a discouraging situation into an effective ministry strategy. First we need to look at what the heart of the problem might be.

The question of the pastor not doing “essential” things such as visitation is symptomatic of a larger, very common mindset. By nature, churches in smaller communities are closed to outsiders and often do not want to grow. People in smaller churches are comfortable and secure in knowing and understanding their relationships in the church. Their universe, with its unstated but welldefined borders, already contains the “essential” components. Outsiders are an unknown; they tend to upset the mix.

But this pastor is committed to numerical growth. His reasons may include a commitment to personal or corporate evangelism as a means of fulfilling the great commission, or an intense desire to build a successful ministry in a vocation where tangible results are often hard to measure. Unfortunately, almost all readily employed measuring devices for pastors relate somehow to size and growth. In this situation, numerical growth may mean bringing new people- outsiders-into an environment that isn’t ready to receive them. It’s ironic to note that in growing churches, five out of seven new members join because of a relationship with a friend or neighbor rather than because of a pastoral call.

Also, regardless of the size of the church, the unasked questions that often prevail in the mind of the lay person are: “How much does the pastor care about me? I know his name but does he know mine? Does he care about my problems and my family?”

Considerations about the great commission, community outreach, or numerical success become greatly overshadowed by these deep-seated personal concerns. It’s not surprising for the board of a small church, especially in a small town, to equate “essential” things with membership visitation. That may be the nice way to say it. The not-so-nice way is for the board to suggest that the pastor is paid a salary to care only for the needs of the members. As this pastor admits, the problem isn’t related to a lack of available time or time management; it’s a conflict of philosophies.

Ministers who are caught in this kind of problem usually respond in one of three ways. Many adopt a defensive posture as they prepare for a pulpit blitzkrieg, and build legacies of miscommunication, misunderstanding, and mistrust. Others turn to such non-threatening alternatives as service club involvement, community responsibilities, and general busy-work that will expand and fill their time.

But a third and more challenging approach-and it takes all the grace and creativity a minister can muster-is to turn the point of contention into a point of contact. Why not convert a church member’s expectation into a prime opportunity for ministry leadership?

It’s a basic principle of parish ministry that a pastor cannot do effective pastoral work unless he knows the people. And he cannot know the people unless he spends quality time with them. Since one of the most enviable benefits of small-church ministry is the opportunity to demonstrate personal concern for everyone in the church, wouldn’t a personal visit with individual members, especially board members, be the perfect time to talk about important matters? It’s been our observation that far too many pastoral calls seldom get beyond chitchat about the weather, the ballgame, someone’s illness or misfortune, and the mandatory closing prayer.

Pastoral visitation can be the perfect time to develop a common ground of understanding, interest, and motivation. In the comfort and security of a church member’s home, substantive questions can be asked such as:

A. Will you tell me about yourself? I want to know about you-not your job, your family, or your work at the church.

B. What is God doing in your life?

C. What do you want him to do?

D. How can the church help this to happen?

E. If you could choose to hear four or five sermons, what would they be?

F. Why are these subjects so important to you?

G. I have a dream for our church that I want to share with you. What is your dream for our church?

It’s a simple matter to expand this pastor-to-person interaction to the corporate level. Board members or lay leaders who have established a personal dialogue with the pastor will find it much easier to corporately wrestle with the pastor’s vision for a growing church.

Is there a better seedbed for lay discipleship? Can a better base be laid for the development of caring and outreach groups that will look after both the needs of the church and the needs of the community?

Pastors

SELF DISCLOSURE: HOW FAR SHOULD A LEADER GO?

Emory A. Griffin

You’re told to be vulnerable–to disclose yourself honestly to those around you. But like most of us you’re painfully aware that honest self-disclosure can blow up in your face.

In my first year of high school I double-dated with my older sister and her boyfriend. We were at a coffee shop when Ralph commented that I looked flushed. As a matter of fact I did feel hot, and headachy as well. Ralph pointed out that during the night my face had broken out even more than my teenage acne warranted. When I admitted that the lights in the restaurant seemed a bit bright, he announced the obvious. I had measles.

This was a blow. Our family was scheduled to leave on a Florida vacation the next morning. My sister and I knew that as soon as our parents discovered my illness they would cancel the trip. So we conspired not to let them know. I took aspirin for the headache, covered my arms with long-sleeved shirts, and wore dark glasses outside. I stayed out of the sun and used generous quantities of talcum powder and Clearasil to mask the worst blemishes on my face. My folks never found out.

Although this is an extreme example, it represents my basic philosophy toward self-disclosure as I grew up. Summed up it would be, “Don’t tell Mom!” Early patterns die hard. Today, whenever I experience strong emotions, my initial impulse is to guard my words and label my feelings TOP SECRET.

I now feel another pull, however. I am a college professor, youth leader in my church, Young Life national board member, and father. In each of these roles I know the loneliness of leadership, and I find myself uncomfortable adopting a detached stance. I have a strong desire to take others into my confidence and openly report what’s going on inside me.

I’m torn, and I find that I’m not alone. The world can be a scary place. We’re hesitant to share our innermost thoughts with others. Some people are willing to commit their hopes and frustrations to the pages of a diary, but the diary has a lock and is stored in a private place. Others share their dreams and disappointments with a dog or favored pet. Unless we make the mistake of spilling our guts to a mynah bird, our secrets are safe with them. But neither of these routes is completely satisfying. Even prayer doesn’t fulfill our desperate need to be known and loved by other warm human beings. Still we hold back. Why? John Powell answers that question simply in his book Why Am I Afraid To Tell You Who I Am? “Because if I tell you who I am, you may not like who I am, and it’s all that I have.”

I picture a giant Mardi Gras masquerade ball. The couple has been together all evening, and the man is entranced with this mysterious partner. As midnight approaches he pleads, “Take off the mask- that’s all that I ask.” She finally complies and he’s stunned! “Put back the mask,” he shouts. That’s what we fear.

Being a Christian does not automatically make it easier to reveal our true selves. Because we have some God-given standards of what life should be, it may be even harder to let others glimpse the person inside. I had a professor in seminary who claimed that there’s more fellowship in the average bar than there is in the Christian church. He suggested that we take the advice of James seriously. “You should get into the habit of admitting your sins to each other” (James 5:16, Phillips).

I was intrigued by the idea of a systematic program of self-disclosure, and I shared my excitement with a fellow student. “Aw, that’s nothing new,” he said. “My roommate and I have a pact. I tell him his sins and he tells me mine.” This kind of judgment makes most Christians leery of selfdisclosure. We’re afraid of getting dumped on. And we have a sneaking suspicion that God’s opinion is reflected in man’s judgment. The pastor or Christian leader has an additional worry. He lives in a fishbowl. Won’t it invalidate his ministry if his followers know what he’s really like? It seems safest to merely pray and keep one’s own counsel.

Psychologist Sidney Jourard believes that most people have a tough time sharing the deep parts of their lives with even one other person. The body pays the price of silence. Headaches, back pains, ulcers, colitis, high blood pressure are forms of protest. They are tilt signals-indications that something is out of kilter. Jourard sees these and other illnesses stemming from the lack of self-disclosure:

In thinking about health, I like to conjure up the image of a family of germs looking for a home in which they might multiply and flourish. If I were the leader of such a family of germs and had the well-being of my family at heart, I would avoid any human like the plague so long as he was productively and enjoyably engaged in living and loving. I would wait until he lost hope, or became discouraged, or became ground down by the requirements of respectable role-playing. At that precise moment, I would invade; his body would then become as fertile a life-space for my breed of germs as a well-manured flower-bed is for the geranium or the weed” (The Transparent Self).

Jourard advocates taking the risk of sharing our attitudes, reactions, loves, fears, and background with at least one significant other. He believes that a more transparent life style will promote intraand interpersonal well-being. Do I agree? That’s what the rest of this article is about.

Benefits of self-disclosure

One of my favorite movies of the last decade was The Sting. Robert Redford and Paul Newman play two Depression-era con men who bilk a big-time New York mobster out of a million dollars. They go to fantastic lengths to carry out their deception. The tension keeps you on the edge of your seat throughout the movie, knowing that one little slip in an unguarded moment will bring the whole ruse crashing down on them. What strikes me the most is the fantastic psychic energy required to live a lie. Honest self-disclosure relieves this tension. I can relax if I don’t need to constantly monitor what parts of my life I have metered out to which people

Pastors and counselors have known for years that tension release accompanies self-disclosure. Clients come to them for “the talking cure.” They seek a sympathetic ear, not advice. By honestly revealing their inner life they leave feeling more whole. This is unique in the health profession. I know of no claim that taking a patient’s blood pressure will cure him of hypertension. Yet taking the pulse of the soul not only indicates mental health, the very act often brings relief. This same release is as available when talking to a friend over coffee as it is in a professional’s office at $50 an hour.

There’s a second benefit for the person who takes the self-disclosure plunge. He or she becomes known. A high school girl brought this home to me. After leading a Young Life club for a decade I announced one night that I was in my final year. Laura was in tears after the meeting. She said, “Oh Em, I’m so sad. Now we won’t get to know each other.” I tried to placate her by pointing out that we went to the same church and that I was friends with her folks. I assured her that she’d have ample opportunity in the future to get to know me. “That’s not it,” she responded, “I want you to get to know me.”

Christians have a special need to be known. It’s natural for someone with moral sensitivity to conclude that he’s invented sin. When those guilt feelings hit, I have a hard time believing that God forgives unless I first experience forgiveness from some warm bodies here on earth. But even that acceptance is hollow unless I’ve been transparent enough to know that people see the real me-warts and all. Otherwise I’ll figure they only can love me because they don’t really know how rotten I am. Being open and honest with others gives me the assurance that no matter how people react to me, they’re responding to the genuine article, not some spruced-up version.

Self-disclosure offers a third plus. In the process of letting someone else get to know me, I discover who I am. You’d think it would work the other way around-that I’d first figure out who I am, and then let others in on the secret. But the two are often simultaneous. Paul Tournier, the noted Swiss physician, states that we can’t get to know ourselves through introspection. Introspection is like peeling the skin off of an onion; you remove layer after layer and discover there’s nothing left.

Instead, Tournier claims that dialogue with others is the only true route to self-knowledge. He practices what he preaches. Recently this famous Christian doctor and writer invited a group of college students to have tea. The students were overwhelmed at the time and effort he invested in the preparation and serving of the food. Couldn’t these hours have been spent more profitably in writing or on something more important than talking with some college kids he’d never known before and might never see again? Not according to Tournier. He simply said, “There is nothing more important than honest dialogue between Christians. It’s how we discover ourselves, our friends, and our God.”

Finally, self-disclosure usually draws us closer to those who listen. True, there’s no guarantee that it will work that way every time; people can get turned off when they hear too much, too fast, from too many. But there’s no question that a certain amount of openness is a necessary precondition for interpersonal intimacy.

It’s not clear why personal sharing fosters attraction. It may be that people discover just how similar they are. Or perhaps it’s a response to the gift of trust inherent in self-revelation. I feel privileged when you let me in on something close to you. It makes for a special bond. That’s especially important for leaders. They tend to be separated from their people by a status gap. Appropriate self-disclosure is a way of bridging that gulf.

I’ve listed a number of reasons for lowering our guard and revealing ourselves to others. These are compelling ideas to me. But there’s obviously another side to the story. Prudence requires that we examine the possible pitfalls involved in openness.

Dangers of self-disclosure

Self-disclosure can boomerang. Folks may get a glimpse of what I’m really like and decide they want no part of me. Jimmy Carter dropped ten points in the polls when he confessed lustful tendencies in a Playboy interview. Research findings confirm that overdisclosure can dampen attraction. We avoid the bore who wants to discuss every detail of his latest operation. Perhaps that’s our gnawing fear-that others will find our self-disclosure merely tedious.

Negative reactions hurt. Yet more distressing is the possibility that what we’ve told in private may be leaked in public. When I was in seventh grade I told a new friend about one of my hobbies-building miniature ballparks. I would lay out the foul lines with chalk, erect the outfield fences with building blocks, and fashion the doubledeck grandstands with materials from a steel girder construction set. I copied the dimensions of Wrigley Field and built a replica of Comiskey Park, complete with working light towers. The day after I told Don, it was all over school: Em was doing something weird with Tinker Toys. That hurt.

The professional recipients of secrets in our society are the clergy, doctors, and lawyers. They are sworn to uphold an ethic of confidentiality. Rarely is this obligation violated. But when we entrust our confidences to the lay person, there’s a greater chance of exposure. To some, the value of a secret comes when it is spilled to others.

Another danger of self-disclosure is that people can be hurt by our candor. The term “brutal honesty” has come to describe the bludgeoning technique of telling others things for their own good. When the offended party objects, the insensitive talker responds self-righteously, “I was only being honest.” I don’t want to offend others this way I knew one woman who would say whatever entered her mind. If l walked into the room and she didn’t like my tie, she’d say so for all to hear. People she knew tended to overlook her bluntness as a form of eccentric behavior. But if hurting people is central to self-disclosure, I want no part of it.

Others balk at the idea of voluntarily giving away what they consider their greatest personal resource-privacy. South American Indians object to being photographed, believing that the camera has robbed them of a portion of their essence. Greta Garbo voiced the desire of many when she said, “I want to be alone.” Seclusion became an obsession for Howard Hughes Although not many go to such extremes for privacy, a significant number of people regard solitude as healthy. They figure there’s a good chance they’ll regret tomorrow the careless words bestowed today.

There’s an attack on the whole concept of self-disclosure that comes from Christians who are suspicious of the philosophical roots of humanistic psychology. They look at some of the leading proponents of openness and honesty in human relations-Carl Rogers, Erich Fromm, Rollo May, Abraham Maslow-and see these men advocating such things as:

A. Unconditional acceptance-which seems to be ethically bankrupt.

B. Self-love-which they label narcissistic and/or idolatrous.

C. The basic goodness of man-which plays fast and loose with the concept of sin.

And thus these people reject self-disclosure as a practice tainted by the humanism of the “me generation.” Other Christians don’t want to toss out the idea of transparency, but they’re disturbed by the cult of confessionalism which is very willing to report sin, but makes little effort to repent of it.

I hope by now you’re convinced that self-disclosure is neither an unmitigated blessing nor an automatic curse. That’s too simplistic. The question of whether to reveal personal history, private thoughts, and hidden emotions is not one of either/or. Rather it’s one of appropriateness.

Appropriateness can be viewed from three angles. One has to do with the recipient of your openness-the who. It makes sense to differentiate between those who will lend a sympathetic ear and those who can’t handle intimate discussion. The timing of self-disclosure is a second consideration-the when. The right time and place will make both parties feel more comfortable. Finally, there’s the matter of how much honesty-the what. Some things may be best unsaid. Others need airing. How can the who, when, and what aspects of appropriate self-disclosure work together to maximize the benefits of openness while minimizing the drawbacks?

Who will be the few?

We’re easily fed up with the game playing, masks, and phoniness in the world. It’s tempting to react by throwing our hands up in despair and committing ourselves to spill our guts to everyone. But we can’t. It’s impossible to establish a meaningful relationship with a toll booth collector-the result would be a monumental traffic jam. Most of our relationships are destined to be governed by roles-the social lubricant that makes normal interaction possible. We can and should play things straight with all people, but intimate self-disclosure needs to be reserved for the few. We have only so much time and psychic energy.

Whom should we choose? Someone we trust. It would be folly for a player in a high stakes poker game to show his hand since the other players are each out to do him in. By contrast, there are people, often part of the Christian community, who have our best interests at heart. They feel forgiven, are comfortable with themselves, and aren’t eager to persuade us to change. Slow to judge, they unconditionally accept us for who we are, even if they don’t agree with all of our actions. Anytime you run across a person radiating this kind of warmth, it’s worth taking the selfdisdosure plunge.

Confidentiality is part of trust. You’d think that getting burned on the disclosing end would make us doubly careful not to violate the trust implicit in a shared secret, but reality compels us to recognize that we often get sloppy in holding a confidence. Discretion is a cultivated response- it’s not innate.

Returning to the poker analogy, prudence dictates that we not bet more than we can afford to lose. This means placing a tentative trust in a person and checking on how he handles it. If he violates that trust we will be sadder but wiser. If he respects our privacy, we can then entrust him with more. It’s reminiscent of Christ’s statement: “He who is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much” (Luke 16:10, RSV).

There’s a well-known fact of sharing called the “bus-rider phenomenon.” People often prefer to bare their soul to a stranger rather than to a lifelong friend. The reason is obvious. There’s no risk involved. Although this kind of self-disclosure affords some catharsis, it doesn’t give us any of the interpersonal benefits. And, it’s risky. How do we know that person isn’t a friend of a friend? Often this temporary relief is overshadowed by doubts and embarrassment the morning after. It’s much more satisfying to select a listener with whom we have an ongoing relationship.

I’m fortunate that my pastor is my best friend. We’ve been close for ten years. Every week we spend an hour and a half in the steam room at the local YMCA. Our continuing friendship means that the intimate details of my life that swirl together with the vapor are heard in the context of mutual responsibility. My pastor’s lucky too. Although I’m active in the youth program of our church, I’m not an elder or deacon, but simply an unofficial “steam room committee member.” He can use me as a confessor, cheerleader, or sounding board. Because we have a history of many soggy hours together, neither of us feels “on stage” with each other.

My wife and I experienced this same accountability at a marriage retreat. Six couples shared struggles of faith, vocation, sex, money, conflict, and parenting between themselves and among each other. Self-disclosure wasn’t cheap. Material shared during the weekend was still known by significant others a week later. It placed an emphasis on authenticity.

Appropriateness dictates that we have a sliding scale of disclosure. Jesus revealed much about himself to the multitudes, but a great deal was unsaid or masked in parables. The disciples heard more. But only the inner circle of Peter, James, and John viewed Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration. We also need to be sensitive to those who hear our disclosure, and to the times when they can’t handle our truth. “I have yet many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now” (John 16:12, RSV). This is not the despairing cry of a rejected leader but the discerning observation of one who’s attuned to others.

When to take a chance

A poster on my office wall pictures a turtle with an elongated neck. The caption reads: “Behold the turtle who makes progress only when he sticks his neck out.” Many advocates of self-disclosure use a turtle as an example of what not to be- retreating into his shell because he’s afraid to expose himself to others. But I see this funnylooking creature as a model of appropriate disclosure. Picture two turtles-face to face-with their heads almost completely hidden. One turtle extends his neck just a bit. If the other turtle responds in kind, then the first one ventures out some more. In a series of minute movements the first turtle ends up with his head in the sunshine, but only if his counterpart follows his lead. At any time he’s prepared to slow the progression, come to a complete stop, or even back off.

There are a number of salient features in my turtle picture. First and foremost is reciprocity. At best, self-disclosure is not a solo act. There is a quid pro quo: You tell me your dream, I’ll tell you mine.

Research confirms that the healthiest form of self-presentation is that which is just slightly ahead of the norm. I’ve tried to capture this idea in the image of my first turtle. He takes the initial risk. He’s always a tad ahead of the game-testing, probing, hoping. But at the same time he’s constantly monitoring the other’s response and is ready to pull back when confronted with indifference or hostility.

Reciprocation is a crucial indication of the other’s internal state of mind. It signals that he’s not offended by our initial revelation, and even more important, it shows a willingness to be vulnerable. There’s a parity of risk: I’ve got the goods on him just as much as he does on me. Reciprocation also reveals a readiness to proceed to deeper levels of intimacy.

The turtle model also focuses on the gradual nature of appropriate self-disclosure. It takes time. Stress conditions can accelerate the friendship process, but the normal pattern is one of slow growth.

The tortoise imagery doesn’t address the question of public self-disclosure. Is there ever justification for a leader to spread his or her life out like an open book in the pulpit, classroom, or office? If my own experience is any indication, the answer is yes. In 1976 I published a book called The Mind Changers: The Art of Christian Persuasion. I included many personal examples to illustrate my points. I’ve received a number of letters from people who’ve read the book. The theme of ‘the correspondence is invariably the same: “Thanks for being willing to reveal who you are.”

Groups often place their leader on a pedestal. Self-disclosure helps him come down from that position and become a warm human being who laughs, sweats, fears, and goes to the bathroom just like everybody else. It’s a trade-off. What he loses in status, he gains in approachableness. When a leader’s authority is in question, self-revelation is counter-productive. But when his competence is recognized, vulnerability is a strength.

I’ve taught an intensive, two-week wilderness seminar in group dynamics. After dinner each night one of the eight participants takes from thirty minutes to an hour to present the significant past events that have shaped him or her up to now. We call it “This Is Me.” There’s no question that this exercise does more to leapfrog the group into an intimate knowledge of one another than any other activity we do. The success of this sharing is partially due to the fact that I go first. Since disclosure begets disclosure, I try to model a comfortable depth of sharing that will encourage others to do the same. Another factor in its effectiveness is the distinction we’ve discovered between history and story. History is a recitation of facts about my past. If I tell you, for instance, that my older brother died of pneumonia before I was born, that’s history. It’s quite possible you would voice a mental “So what?” But if I tell you that my parents were deathly afraid that I’d catch cold and therefore overprotected me by dressing me in a snowsuit when it was 45¡, that’s the beginning of story. It’s even more helpful when I tie this in with my present casual disregard for preventive health measures. I’ve interpreted the facts and told how they’ve affected me. Story is a big hunk of what selfdisclosure is all about.

Emotions and self-disclosure

Feelings are the great leveler of human existence. You may be from a farm, have earned the Ph.D. in theology, vote Republican, and enjoy golf. I may be a product of the inner city, drive a fork lift at a box factory, agitate for social reform, and be a bowling nut. We disagree in starting point, method, and conclusion. Yet we both taste the fear of rejection, the surge of sexual attraction, the weariness of responsibility, and the warmth that comes with affirmation. Since we all are equal on the gut level, feelings are the common currency of self-disclosure.

Emotions are also like the ocean surf-powerful, exciting, and often scary. There’s a natural tendency to self-inject a mental novocaine that will numb our passion, dampen our fear. That’s too bad. I agree with John Powell’s approach to handling emotion;

Emotions are not moral, neither good nor bad in themselves. If I am to tell you who I really am I must tell you about my feelings whether I will act upon them or not. With rare exceptions emotions must be reported at the time they are being experienced (Why Am I Afraid to Tell You Who I Am?).

This is easy to say but hard to do. I was in a sharing group with students in my school when I felt a stab of bitter jealousy toward another professor. I was caught in a dilemma. Intellectually I’m committed to Powell’s advice, but green-eyed envy isn’t a socially acceptable reaction in my fellowship. My discomfort was compounded by the fact that the teacher’s wife was a member of the group.

I don’t know what tipped the balance, but somewhat haltingly I reported my feeling. The reaction was immediate. She laughed, but not in derision. That very morning her husband had confessed to her how he coveted my ease with students. My jealousy vanished immediately. Wouldn’t it have been sad if I’d held it in and nurtured a grudge? It would have been even more tragic-and sinful- if I’d given in to resentment and cut him down in front of students. Prompt reporting of the emotion was the better part of wisdom. My goal is to act as wisely in the future.

The jealousy I just spoke of was my problem, not his. But what if someone does things that are irksome? Perhaps he talks with his mouth full or boasts so much about his accomplishments that others are turned off. Does honest self-disclosure involve sharing our irritation? The answer, I think, depends on the nature of our relationship. My standard is this: I stick to compliments unless the other person has in some way contracted for negative feedback. I have no right to pop somebody’s balloon unless he’s indicated a willingness to hear my criticism. Of course, there may come a time when actions go beyond the point of being merely bothersome. If through ignorance or malice someone starts to hurt people, simple human justice requires that you speak out.

There are a variety of ways a person might signal that he’s up for negative feedback. Close friendship is one. The other day I told my steam room friend that his breath smelled of garlic. He thanked me and he meant it. The trust we’ve built with one another took the sting out of my words.

A direct request can also give permission. I read the first draft of this article to my class and asked for comments, stressing my desire for criticism so that I could improve it. After an awkward pause one fellow said, “Well, as long as you asked . . . ,” and initiated a string of helpful suggestions.

In all of the cases above, it’s important to state our opinion as just that, not as truth thundered down from Mount Olympus. “You’re a prude!” is not nearly as helpful or loving as “I get the impression that you’re embarrassed when we speak of sex.” A certain tentativeness is appropriate. We may be way off base. Sharing our perceptions is more loving than announcing our judgments. God’s first call is not to worship honesty, but to love.

Keeping quiet is not usually our problem. Most of us err on the side of non-disclosure. We constrict our circle of confidants, fail to recognize situations where openness is appropriate, and censor thoughts that would be quite acceptable. It’s natural to be cautious.

But we of all people have reason to open more of our lives to public view. Our transparency can reveal the love of Jesus which reaches out in concern to others through us. Ouriself-disclosure may bring about a reciprocal relation with someone who needs to know Christ’s love personally. Through all of this, with Jesus as our model, we may find our lives considerably enriched.

- More from Emory A. Griffin

Pastors

Building People

Donald L. Bubna with Sarah M. Ricketts

Can people who are vastly different really learn to love one another? How can a caring fellowship be built upon such differences?

Koinonia, like so many other Greek words, has become a part of the Christian vocabulary. Almost eueryone has heard of it, a few can define it, but many, perhaps most, would admit to some doubt about ever experiencing it. Building People (Tyndale, 1978) is koinonia come to life. It’s flesh-and-blood prose about the trial-and-error, success-and-set-back experiences one pastor faced in establishing a koinonia fellowship.

Donald L. Bubna is the veteran copastor of the Salem Alliance Church in Salem, Oregon, a congregation of 700 families. Whether he is describing a close associate or an occasional Sunday attender, he examines the common and uncommon ground a pastor must walk to create relationships that minister mutually.

We have excerpted three of the twelve chapters. All of them are worth reading, for seldom does the reader get the opportunity to peel back the skin and look at the inner workings of a fellowship under construction.

I don’t think this church needs two Don Budnas!” My associate pastor’s usually mild voice had a sharp edge.

“Why do you say that, Ted?”

“I get the feeling you are trying to make me into another you, and it just won’t work.”

The strained look on Ted Zabel’s open, youthful face told me he was serious, but his words had taken me by surprise. We had been coworkers for a year in the-Pacific Beach, California, church. Ted had come to us directly from Bible college, along with his bride. Edna was a talented musician, and Ted was especially interested in Christian education and youth. The young couple added an exciting new dimension to our growing church. I was impressed with Ted’s potential-even if he was a little slow in getting things done according to my standards. That would soon change, I was sure, as Ted learned my more efficient methods. It was somewhat of a shock to discover that he did not appreciate my coaching.

“I thought one of your reasons for coming here was to learn from a more experienced pastor.” I could not conceal my hurt, and Ted nodded in a reaffirming way.

“Of course I came to learn, and I’m excited about working with you because I see you as a strong pastor who is going places.”

“Thank you, Ted.” His words soothed my wounded feelings.

“But I didn’t come because I wanted to be another Don Bubna. I thought that our differences would make us a good team-I thought I would complement your role, and you would not take away from mine.”

“Mmmmm.” I nodded. Ted had a good point there.

“I share your philosophy and goals for the church,” he continued. “But I disagree with your definition of leadership.”

“And how do you define my idea of leadership?” My uneasiness had returned. After all, Ted was my twenty-six-year-old assistant, and at thirty-two I had several years experience, both as a school administrator and a pastor. In fact, I considered administration one of my strong points, and the steady growth of our congregation was pretty solid proof that I was a reasonably successful leader.

“I see you trying to lead by getting things done your way, and that will only work when the rest of us are robots.”

“And how do you feel leadership should function?” There was a defensive edge to my voice.

“It would be far better to let people do things the way they are most capable of doing them.”

In spite of my edginess, I could see some sense in Ted’s argument. Perhaps I had been pushing a little hard. “Why haven’t you said something about this before?” I covered my unrest with a smile. “We have weekly conferences precisely to talk out any difficulties.”

Ted looked awkward. “Usually during our conferences you are upset about something I haven’t done on your time schedule, and your idea of ‘talking it out’ has been to tell me how you do things so that I can do them the same way.”

I was getting a little hot under the collar. I had always considered myself a reasonable boss, but obviously Ted had a different impression.

“Has it been that bad?”

“Sometimes,” he replied. “That’s why I had to speak up before my resentment grew any bigger.”

“I appreciate your honesty-I had no idea you felt that way.” I searched for words. “I guess I just wasn’t aware of how different we are. I thought you only lacked experience.” I made an effort to smile. “Obviously I was wrong. I’ll try to do better.”

Ted looked immensely relieved. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. One of the things I appreciate about working with you is that you are a learner as well as a leader, and I feel that we can learn from each other.”

Our conversation was only the first of many like it over the next couple of years. Ted’s relaxed, easygoing manner made him popular among the people, and especially so among some who were shy and withdrawn. Around Ted they were comfortable and could open up. The young people liked him, and our Sunday school made great strides under his direction.

I made a deliberate effort not to push him, but when I said it didn’t matter how he did some things, as long as they were done on time, he usually received my comment more graciously than I had given it. The sight of his desk piled with unanswered office memos, letters, and unfinished reports had a way of setting off my fuse.

I liked Ted, and a solid friendship had grown between us, but till the day I left for Salem, Oregon, I felt that we could have accomplished a great deal more in Pacific Beach if Ted had been more like me. This feeling gave me a vague uneasiness, as though I was missing a point somewhere. I had been more and more persuaded that the miracle of the church was that people who were vastly different could learn to love one another.

When I came to Salem, I was just learning to appreciate people who were different from me, but I preferred that they did things my way. I had learned that different people could love one another, but I still saw differences as a handicap to a smooth relationship.

The first year in Salem seemed to reinforce that impression. I found Oregonians to be different from Southern Californians. My new church was forty years old and they had two hundred attending at the time I arrived. The members had indicated that the growth of Pacific Beach fellowship impressed them, and they wanted me to lead them in a more progressive program in Salem.

Part of my initial effort was to streamline the administration of the church, but some of the more conservative members were reluctant to see any changes in procedure. We agreed on the basic issues of our faith, and this forged a bond of love

between us. But the friction over organizational matters, which always occurs in the process of change, made me feel I was bucking a solid wall during some of our business meetings.

Therefore it was a great relief to get an associate pastor who was a lot like me. He was Paul Gunther, the son of a missionary and pastor who had visited our home when I was a child. His father had pastored the Salem congregation earlier in the church’s history and had really laid a sound foundation. Having Paul as an associate was like being joined by a brother. Paul, who wanted to work with a more experienced pastor in preparation for the day when he would pastor his own church, was eager to learn my methods, and I was pleased to see how well we worked together.

At first I was delighted with our similar approach to many issues and the lack of friction between us. Then I began to realize that we were similar not only in our strong points, but in our weak ones as well. There were areas in which I was not too effective, and neither was Paul. Obviously there were disadvantages to a team where the members were too much alike.

Paul was with us for a year and a half; then he was called to be the pastor of the Pacific Beach congregation I had formerly served. They loved him from the start, but I had begun to wish for an associate pastor who could do some of the things I couldn’t do, and maybe even do them differently than I would have done them. I was talking to my wife about it one day when she looked at me with a direct gaze of her blue eyes and said, “Why don’t you come right out and say you wish Ted Zabel was here . “

“I guess that’s what I’m really thinking, isn’t it?” I chuckled in spite of myself. “I’m beginning to appreciate Ted for his differences instead of in spite of them. He was just the balance I needed because he was different. It was good for both of us and for the church.”

I knew that Ted had returned to seminary, and had a year to go before graduation. We interviewed others to take Paul’s place, but the idea of working

with Ted stayed in the back of my mind. In January he came to Salem to talk about it. His relaxed, easygoing manner hadn’t changed a bit, and the congregation immediately liked him.

“You know, I’d like to work with you, Don,” he said, “but it won’t be easy. We’re as different as ever, and I’ll never become a carbon copy of you no matter how hard I try or you might push.”

“That’s why I want you here,” I said. “I need your differences. The church needs them. I can’t give them what you have to offer.”

The grin was the same. “I need what you are,” Ted said. “My ambition is not to become a senior pastor. I want to commit myself to be part of a team that can grow together over the years.”

“I appreciate that.” I felt strangely moved.

“I think the church can only be built on a longterm commitment to each other,” Ted went on. “It is a little like a marriage in that respect. We commit ourselves to love and accept one another and to grow together through some hard times and good times. There can be no backing out when the going gets rough.”

“I accept that commitment,” I said slowly. “If you sense that God is calling you here, I am prepared to make the same commitment to you.” I smiled. “You and I may have different styles and gifts, but we are both committed to Christ and to one another, and I believe that is the heart of the church.”

When Ted and I shook hands, I had the distinct feeling that our differences would somehow serve to strengthen the bond of love between us instead of weakening it as I had once thought. The leadership of our congregation agreed unanimously to wait until Ted’s graduation in June to fill the position of minister of Christian education. His coming marked an exciting step for me and for our church fellowship. I was beginning to see that our differences are not meant to separate us but to draw us together. This is the new and exciting perspective on relationships that only Christianity has to offer.

Ted, who is a capable song leader, likes to remind us that harmony in the church isn’t achieved by everybody hitting the same note on the piano. That would only produce a dull, monotonous sound. Instead we are to be like a full orchestra and choir blending in perfect harmony because each is tuned to the same pitch and following the same conductor. Yet to the listening ear, the differences in the instruments and voices remain distinct. A piano isn’t supposed to sound like a trumpet, and a soprano doesn’t sing like a baritone.

I Hear You Say You Love Me

It is a weakness of mine to be impatient with other people’s weaknesses. My first impulse to speak is often tainted by mixed motives. In order to check myself, I sometimes first express my frustration on paper, and then/ with my motives somewhat purer, I am able to speak in a more helpful way.

At one point I was quite upset with a leader in the church because his committee was behind schedule. I had sense enough to know that I was unable to speak the truth in an encouraging way. Instead I wrote the man a note I did not intend to mail. At the top of the page I put: “This is what I feel.” Then I wrote:

“Dear Brother: I have mixed feelings of hurt and frustration. You and I used to be close. I feel you are not interested in matters that are your primary responsibility in the church. Am I seeing it wrong? Are you responding out of hurt and frustration over my impatience?”

Putting that note aside, I could write an encouragement card saying, Brother, I really miss you . . . Love, Don.”

The next day I avoided direct confrontation with him, and the following day we were together in a committee meeting. He contributed a real insight to our discussion, and I expressed appreciation for that. The next day I wrote another encouragement card, thanking him again for what he had said. By then my feelings of frustration were diminished, and so was my need to tell him where he was wrong.

To speak the truth in love is my responsibility as a Christian, but in my humanness, the urge to speak is not always prompted by a spirit of love. Being slow-to speak is a good way to filter our words, while praying much for God to purify our motives .

It is the Holy Spirit in us that confronts the world with the truth. My part is to come in humility to my brother. The Holy Spirit will make him see his wrong without me having to spell it out for him (John 16:8). Often a question will prompt our brother to think through his situation for himself.

A young man had been elected to an office in the fellowship but when summer came and school let out, he and his family seldom came to church on Sunday. I saw him one day and said: “We miss seeing you on a regular basis on Sundays.”

His smile was a little hesitant. “I feel my first responsibility is to my family, and the kids need the experience of camping out during the summer.”

“I agree that your first responsibility is to your family,” I said. “But I just want to ask you this: are you entirely satisfied with how you’re handling that responsibility for the summer?”

He looked at me, then said a little curtly, “I’m satisfied.”

”That’s all I want to know.” We chatted briefly, and parted with a warm handshake.

Before long the family were in church regularly on Sunday again, and the young man told me, “The last time we talked, you didn’t pressure me to come to church, but I couldn’t get away from your question. You see, I wasn’t really satisfied with camping every weekend, and you sort of confronted me with it, while giving Me the freedom to make my own decision.”

I am not always so tactful. One Sunday morning I saw Brad Coleman and a friend leave the church building during the Sunday school hour, heading for the coffee shop. Brad was Assistant Sunday School Superintendent at the time, and there was always the possibility he would be needed during the class session. Just as I was getting ready to go into the second worship service, I ran into Brad and his friend coming back from their little expedition.

Fighting to control myself I said, “I hope you weren’t going where I thought you were going when I saw you leave!”

They looked like schoolboys caught skipping a class, and I lost my control, fairly yelling down the hall. My outburst caught them by surprise. Brad, who caught the brunt of my displeasure, looked hurt and embarrassed. By now I was angry with both of us, and hurried into the service with an urgent, “Help! I failed again!” directed heavenward.

Later I was able to say to Brad, “Will you accept my apology for speaking the way I did?”

He grinned and took my outstretched hand. “I guess we both blew it,” he said. “It was a dumb thing to do.”

Years later Brad told me that my apology had made a greater impression than my anger. “You thought enough of me to say you were sorry-even if I had been wrong. It made me feel better about making a mistake. I learned that pastors make them too and have to apologize like the rest of us.”

Our truth-speaking is less likely to be misunderstood when we have first established a relationship of love. This kind of open, accepting relationship allows us to remove our pretenses and see each other as less than perfect. Then we can say to one another, “How do you see me? Do I talk too much, or too harshly? Do I come across as critical or self-centered?” To answer less than honestly is to be less than loving. Truth, spoken in love, helps us see ourselves more clearly and helps us grow.

Sometimes a painful truth is the most loving thing we can say to someone. I have had them said to me. One of the men on the executive committee called one day and invited me for lunch. Before we went out to eat, he said, “I need to talk to you.”

“Co ahead.”

He cleared his throat. “I need to be honest with you, Don. I see you pressing so-and-so too hard. You are just frustrating him. I know you don’t mean to, but you do.”

I felt uncomfortable, but it was clear that my friend felt even worse. Thanking him, I said, “I know this was a tough thing to do, but it tells me that you love me, or you wouldn’t have taken the risk of confronting me.”

My friend helped me see how others saw me. That can be both an encouraging and difficult thing to face. I have learned to ask frequently in conversations, “What do you hear me say?” And I often summarize what others say to me: “This is what I understand you are saying . . .”

Most of us . have the habit of speaking before we’ve thought something through. Hearing our own words echoed back to us can be helpful and sometimes surprising.

At a board meeting, one of the men expressed vaguely negative feelings about an upcoming project he was assigned to lead. I felt he needed to get his feelings out into the open so that he could honestly say no to a task he did not want to do.

I said, “Brother, I heard you, and it helps me to see that you don’t really want to do this thing.”

He looked surprised. “Is that what you heard me say?”

He looked thoughtful and later told me, “I’ve come to realize that I really do want that challenge. Thanks for helping me see my indecisiveness.” He headed up the project with zest and with excellent results.

To become a whole person,. as God plans for us, we need the relationship with those who love us enough to help us face ourselves as we are.

A middle-aged housewife had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown when she first came to our church. She faced problems at home in her relationships with her husband and children, but her biggest problem was herself. She began to attend a Wednesday night study and sharing group where she found freedom to talk about how she really felt about things.

“I was sometimes angry, upset, or negative,” she said. “But they weren’t threatened. They listened to me, prayed for me, and pointed out my blind spots; but it was such a gentle form of reproof. Never in my life had I been reproved any way but harshly. I brought my whole muddled up mess of a life in there and they cared enough not to talk about it outside the group. They really loved me.”

Because she felt the overwhelming sense of her friends’ love, she was able to take their gentle reproof without feeling threatened.

A church that is learning to discipline in love will be a strong church. Bernie Chipman, a young housewife in our fellowship, says, “I think that’s why I feel so secure in this church. Like a family. The love includes authority, direction, and discipline. We know what God is saying, and what he expects of us. We’re not just doing our own thing.”

Without discipline, our love is not complete. And without love, discipline destroys instead of building up. Our fellowship is a call to mutual love and submission, and there is no greater challenge to that call than when a member of the body strays from God’s truth.

Historically the church has a poor record of loving discipline (probably due in part to the most glaring mistakes getting the most publicity). We must acknowledge shameful things like the Inquisition, burnings at the stake, and persecutions. All were performed by those who claimed to be guardians of the truth. In contrast, some modern churches have leaned over backward in permissiveness to the point of failing to affirm the absolute nature of God’s truth.

In churches where we hold the Bible as our authority, we sometimes try to avoid the issue by looking the other way when we first become aware of someone wandering from the truth. If the wrong reaches scandalous proportions, we are forced to excommunicate the culprit to save the reputation of our fellowship.

Our reluctance to administer discipline is understandable. Many groups have gained a reputation as “narrowminded legalists” who are fond of rules and regulations. Our critics frequently quote Jesus’ words, “Judge not, or you will be judged,” and we don’t want to be guilty of that!

It is true that we are never to judge one another’s worth, but the Bible tells us to correct one another when we wander from God’s truth. Paul wrote: “If a man should be detected in some sin, my brothers, the spiritual ones among you should quietly set him back on the right path, not with any feeling of superiority, but being yourselves on guard against temptation. Help one another to carry these heavy loads, and so live out the law of Christ” (Gal. 6:1, paraphrased) .

In the Greek text, the word for “setting him back on the right path” is “equip.” Discipline is part of the equipping we all need at times, and its purpose is to strengthen and restore, not condemn or destroy.

The responsibility for setting a wanderer back on the right path is given to “the spiritual ones” among us. I understand that to refer to the elders in the fellowship, not individually but collectively. Here is one case in which there is safety in numbers. In our humanness, no one of us alone is capable of judging whether someone else is straying from the truth. If we sense that a brother or sister is on the wrong track, we are to take it to an elder, and the elders together are to submit the matter in prayer to the head of the church, Jesus Christ, and ask for wisdom. In our Salem fellowship the elders

deal with the matters of discipline. I am only involved as their coach and fellow elder.

No other aspect of leadership requires as much awareness of our humanness and God’s grace. Before we can go in love to someone who is doing wrong, we must sense that no matter what they have done, or how we may feel about it, God has not removed his lovingkindness from them, and neither must we. God’s purpose for discipline is always restoration, and we can never forget that.

Often an elder must wrestle with his own critical feelings and find forgiveness for them before he is ready to speak to a wandering brother or sister in a spirit of gentleness that says, “I see you are hurting, let me help you face up to this thing in your life.”

The wanderer may be defensive and critical of our judgment. Our task is not to tell him what he already knows in his heart, but to give him the encouragement and support he needs to confess his wrong and turn from it.

In the parable of the prodigal son, Jesus shows us the picture of God as the loving Father who waits with open arms for the errant child to return home. He speaks no word of rebuke, or “I told you so.” His is a love that forgives and never mentions the wrong again. That is our pattern.

When our elders have to confront people in love, the situation most often remains a very private one before one or two elders and the person who needed help.

Over the years we’ve had our share of teen-age marriages at Salem. Some young couples who have been very sincere in their commitment to one another nevertheless have found themselves facing a premarital pregnancy. We don’t consider pregnancy sufficient grounds for marriage, and a seling pastor will attempt to make certain that the couple share a deep commitment to each other and to Christ before we will agree to marry them.

The case will be discussed by our elders, and one or two men will meet with the couple to help them face their situation in light of God’s Word. Usually the young people are greatly relieved to deal with their guilt before God in the presence of the elders who accept and forgive them.

When other young people in the church are aware of the situation, there is often unspoken embarrassment and a strain on the relationships. In such a case, the elders will suggest that the matter be dealt with openly before those who are directly concerned. It is difficult but sometimes necessary to say to those we have hurt: “We have violated God’s law and yours. We have confessed our sin to him, and we need to confess it to you. We have asked Cod’s forgiveness, and now we ask yours.”

Such a confession is painful but always brings a release and restoration of the relationship between the young couple and their friends. Once their sin has been confessed and forgiven, they are free to be open and honest. The invisible wall of suspicion, embarrassment, and pretending is removed.

Only once have we found it necessary to excommunicate a brother from the fellowship. It was a case of adultery in which the husband moved out to live with another woman. When confronted by first his elder, then a pastor, he did not want to speak to them. He no longer attended the church, and he made it clear that he would continue in his new life-style.

Without mentioning the man’s name, the elder reported the case to the board, and after prayer it was agreed to send the man a letter, which in essence said:

Dear brother:

As we understand the Word of God, you are violating the biblical principles concerning marriage . …

We sense an unwillingness on your part to speak to us about it, and as we understand the Word of God, we are required to deal with it. At our next elders meeting, the coming Tuesday, we will recommend that you be dismissed from membership. You are welcome to the meeting to discuss it with us then.

We want you to know that we believe the loving thing for us to do is to confront you with what we see to be the violation of God’s truth. We do it in the hope that you will turn in repentance and faith to God who forgives and redeems us.

This is not done with a view to permanent dismissal, but with a hope of your restoration to our fellowship .

We are looking forward to the time when you will come to talk to us about these things.

Your brothers.

Paul found it necessary to instruct the church in Corinth to excommunicate a brother who persisted in violating God’s truth (1 Cor. 5). Some time later, Paul wrote, “He has been punished enough by your united disapproval. Now it is time to forgive him and comfort him” (2 Cor. 2:6, 7 TLB). The purpose of discipline is always redemption. A loving fellowship is accepting, encouraging, and caring. It loves by facing up to reality. It disciplines, and it forgives and restores the returning wanderer.

The Greatest Need in the Church

This brings us to the issue of authority and submission, perhaps the trickiest aspect of human relationships. It is also the one most misunderstood and misused down through history, even in the church For love to become a practical reality–in our home, church, or society-we have to learn the proper relationships of authority and submission.

Jesus Christ was given authority to execute judgment over a fallen world. He used that authority to submit to judgment himself in our place on the cross. God then established his church-with Jesus Christ as the Head-to demonstrate his love in action among humans. It was to be God’s way to “show and tell” how human relationships were meant to function through the proper use of authority and submission.

That was to be the key to love in the church. Certain qualifications were listed for the selection of elders who would have authority to rule the fellowship, not according to the pattern of the world, but as Jesus had taught his disciples:

“You know that those who are recognized as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them; and their great men exercise authority over them. But it is not so among you, but whoever wishes to become great among you shall be your servant; and whoever wishes to be first among you shall be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many” (Mark 10:42-45, NASB).

As a boy I had great ambitions for my future, but there was one position I never aspired to: that of a servant. Servants had to do things no one else wanted to do, and as the oldest of three brothers, I had already learned to use my authority to claim the better household chores.

When I was a senior in high school, my parents decided that our family would be the janitors for the new building our church had bought. We moved into a basement apartment, and guess who got to clean the four restrooms twice a week?

You guessed right, but I didn’t like it. When I first became a pastor and sometimes quoted Jesus’ words about being a servant, I thought my “servanthood” properly consisted of being the leader while I urged others to serve by doing the “lesser chores” of singing in the choir, teaching Sunday school, or being on committees.

God chose to place imperfect humans as leaders in his church, and that hasn’t changed since the first century. The imperfect leaders of today are still tempted to rule as the world rules. Perhaps the difference between the world’s pattern for authority and that of Christ can best be illustrated by the story of a woman who was married to a tyrant. He gave her a written list of duties and regulations and exercised rigid control over her actions, but she never seemed to be able to do everything he asked of her.

The tyrant died, and the woman married a kind and loving man who selflessly gave of himself without demanding anything in return. Several years later the woman came across the old list her first husband had written. To her great surprise she realized that she was doing all the things that had once been required of her, but with joy.

Paul wrote: “Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus. Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind let each regard one another as more important than himself” (Phil. 2:5, 3, NASB).

Paul was addressing everybody in the church, including the pastors and elders. Perhaps especially the leaders. It is easy to consider yourself more important when you’re put up front, and that attitude destroys the principal task of leadership: that of building others up, encouraging them to grow, and being their example in Christlikeness.

True submission can only be a voluntary action. Most of us have a false concept of it. We think that being put down makes us automatically submissive. That isn’t true. The wife who is dominated by an oppressive husband isn’t necessarily a submissive wife, although she may be doing everything she is told. She may be just suppressed and resenting it. Meaningful submission is an inner attitude of consideration for the other person that makes him feel worthy and loved. Such an attitude does not develop on demand.

The ability to submit requires a healthy self-image. Submission implies a willingness to bend my will to others and consider them more important than I am. If I feel unworthy and insignificant, I tend to be defensive, aggressive, and boasting to cover my insecurity. My behavior becomes assertive, competitive, and threatening, the very opposite of submissive.

When my self-esteem is low, submission seems a fearful and threatening thing to my already bruised ego. Only the Holy Spirit can give me the inner assurance of self-worth that makes me risk bending my will to someone else. That assurance grows as we are appreciated and encouraged in a koinonia fellowship of believers.

Submission is the mark of spirituality, and as we mature in Christlike qualities, we should become more submissive, more loving. That speaks to me of the fact that elders should be the leading examples of submission in any church.

But why all this talk of submission? Can’t we be loving without it? Not really. Because to be truly loving means that I am willing to consider someone else’s needs before my own. Another word for that is submission.

Submission is also the key to our relationship with God. The only way to find my new life in Christ, the new birth, and the fulfillment of my potential as a unique child of God is through the voluntary act of bending my will to the will of God. Another word for that is submission.

Ever since I was a child, I have known the verse, “If anyone wishes to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. For whoever wishes to save his life shall lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake and the gospel’s shall save it” (Mark 8:34, SS, NASB). For many years these words made little sense to me.

It was Judy Garland who finally brought it all into focus for me. I never met her, but we grew up at the same time; and while I was still playing sandlot football in St. Louis, she was a star who won an Oscar for her performance in “The Wizard of Oz.” She was something of an idol to my group, who thought that if anybody had it made, it was Judy Garland. I lost track of what was happening in her i life until I came across an interview with her as she was getting ready to marry for the third or fourth time. She was quoted as saying, “I have finally found happiness.” Two weeks later she committed suicide.

It made me sit down and consider some things about my own life. As a teen-ager I had dreamed of winning fame and fortune, but instead I made the difficult decision to follow Christ. I thought I was giving up a lot of things, but instead I found more happiness than I ever thought possible. I wouldn’t trade places with anyone, and sometimes I feel almost guilty for being paid a salary for doing what I enjoy the most.

We resist submission to God’s will because we S think it means an end to everything we’ve ever j wanted. The death to self is never easy, but the end result is a new and better life. Before the foundation of the world, God ordained the principle of submission before exaltation. God’s way up is down, even for himself, in the person of his Son. Some fear that 5 submission to the body is a threat to their individual freedom. I need to realize that I can’t reach my full potential as a thumb or an eye unless I bend my will to the body I belong to.

I believe God has placed me as pastor/teacher in Salem, but I don’t have an infallible view of what is to take place in the church, and therefore my gift needs to be augmented by the rest of the body. I sense more now than ever before that I need the discipline of working with others. I sometimes want to move too fast or try too much, and that is when God in his wisdom allows the executive committee or our elders to decide against my proposals (as they did recently with a vote of thirteen to my one).

Our executive committee must grapple with decisions about finance, buildings, and programs. I am convinced we would get hopelessly bogged down if we were not committed to one another and to Christ. The men come from a wide variety of backgrounds, economically, socially, and educationally. There is a wide age span, and some have been in the church more than twenty years, some for only two. It is easy for me to feel defensive and pressured when some have a need to ask a lot of questions, but I am learning that I need to hear them, especially as the church is growing and requires expanded facilities, budgets, and programs.

One executive committee meeting faced an agenda I had dreaded for some time. The chairman of the elders had just finished his first year on the committee, and was the first man to speak up:

“This has been the most difficult year of my life,” he began. “I had never served on a board before, and the first three months my head was spinning. I didn’t understand what you guys were talking about, and I felt angry and lost. I was almost going to quit. But I want you to know that God has pressed me to grow, and I have really learned some things . “

The youngest member on the committee responded, “I started this year not very enthusiastic about my responsibilities, but I want you to know that you guys have really touched my life.” He looked around the circle of faces, and the young man next to him punched his arm and said gruffly, “You dummy, you are going to make me cry, but I want to tell you it has meant a lot to me to watch you grow this year.”

After an hour of sharing, praying, and thanking God for one another, our difficult business meeting took place in great harmony, although there was not agreement among us. Submitting to one another does not mean we will all agree, but the peace of Christ will rule our hearts.

As senior pastor/coach, I am the principal mood-setter of our fellowship. If there is a wrong attitude among us, I need to first examine myself. We are to be a loving, caring, accepting family, marked by mutual submission. If the pastors don’t love one another or get along with the elders, our message of love from the pulpit will bear little fruit.

Christian leadership is being an example of growing in Christ-likeness. If I’m not maturing, no one will follow me into Christ-likeness. I may be an efficient organizer of a growing church, but if no one matures in his Christian life by following me, I’m not a Christian leader in the true sense of the word.

Some years ago I was rather exasperated with a young man in our church whom I will call Rick. I considered him bull-headed and inconsiderate, and he had hurt some people’s feelings by rushing ahead with some things that should have been handled with patience. Most of all I wanted to shake him and say, “Why don’t you grow up!”

At that time I was studying Paul’s letter to the Ephesians and preaching from the fourth chapter, which says, “Be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other’s faults, because of your love.” Now that was something Rick really needed to learn, I thought. Perhaps, if I made an effort to be his friend, l could tell him.

It was in the fall of the year, and I needed fire wood. Rick had mentioned he knew where to get I some free wood, so rather than getting a cord of cut wood brought to the house for $20, I asked Rick, “How about taking me out to get some wood?”

“Sure.” He looked eager. “I know a lady who has a cousin who owns some land, and I’ll cut the wood and bring it to your house for you.”

“I would enjoy going with you,” I said. “I like being out in the woods this time of year.”

Rick grinned. “Great, I don’t go to work till noon, we can get out there and be back at your house in a couple of hours any day you want.”

We agreed to go on Monday, my day off, and Rick was at my house with his pickup truck before 7 A.M. On our way out of town I began to suspect that he had never been where we were going, and asked, “Did you call to say we were coming?”

My companion smiled confidently, “No, but it’s OK. I have permission.”

There was a gnawing unease in the back of my mind, but I said nothing as we swung off the road, down through an old orchard, to a heap of fallen oakwood bulldozed together. It was fine-looking wood, and in an hour the truck was loaded with half a cord. The exercise had done me good, and I breathed deeply in the air, fresh after the heavy rains.

We started up the grassy slope towards the pavement-and got stuck. Rick backed up and made another run-and we got stuck again. An hour later we were still backing up and trying.

My inward frustration was mounting-my anger too. Rick ought to have known better than get off the road after the rain without four-wheel drive!

“Do you have towing insurance?”

He shook his head, and I was afraid I was going to lose my temper.

“I think we need to pray,” I said with outward calm. “Then let’s go over to that farmhouse and find someone to pull us out.”

Rick glanced at me sideways as I bowed my head. “God, I don’t understand what’s going on, but I accept it as something from you.”

The need to explode had left me, and at the farmhouse I introduced myself to the farmer’s wife and told her we were cutting wood on so and so’s property, and were stuck.

“That is not so and so’s property.” The lady wasn’t smiling. “That’s our property.”

I didn’t look at Rick and said, “Would you like to sell me half a cord of wood?”

She wasn’t quite sure, but after some talking, I was allowed to pay $19 for the wood that hadn’t really been for sale in the first place. It was almost twice the price per cord I would have paid to have it delivered.

Next we called a tow truck. When it arrived and I saw it was a small one, I asked the driver before he left the pavement if he thought he had adequate equipment to get us out.

“No problem.” He looked almost a little hurt that I had raised the question. “If we need any help, I’ve got a two-way radio.”

I watched him pull off the road, back into the orchard-and get stuck.~~After an hour of trying to get him out (the two-way radio wasn’t working), we agreed it would be best to call a bigger tow truck to get us both out. It was almost noon, and Rick said, “I won’t get to work on time anyway, so I’ll go back to the farmhouse and make the call.”

While he was gone, I was thinking, “God, I’m so upset. What in the world are you trying to do?” To my fuming head came the quiet thought, “Perhaps God is trying to teach you something.”

I was almost calm when Rick came back with the news that the second tow truck was out on call and couldn’t get there for another hour.

With amazing restraint I said, “You’ve got to get to work, and I’ve got a lot to do today, and this is frustrating to both of us. So I think we need to ask God to give us the right answer about it.”

We prayed and sat there talking, when Rick said, “You know Pastor, this is really a significant day for me.”

“How’s that?” I looked at my young friend and his eyes were lit up.

“I’ve always wondered how you would react under pressure.”

“I’ve come close to blowing it,” I admitted, and Rick nodded. “Me, too, but it’s really neat to see you in a tough spot like this.”

I was thanking God for keeping my lid on when the second tow truck arrived. It was big-but it got stuck. Now there were three trucks in line on the slick slope. The big truck had a winch, and by fastening the cable around a fruit tree, we were able to move a few yards at a time. One tree looked rotten, and I said, “Are you sure it will hold?” “Sure,” said the driver, and a few seconds later the old tree went kerplunk.

It took us an hour to make the 200 yards to the pavement. Rick and I had started up the slope five hours earlier.

At the garage I was charged only $50 for the two trucks, since I had pointed out to the driver that his equipment might not be adequate. The total cost for my “free wood” was $69, which I was able to pay without a sense of great loss. The day had turned out to be a meaningful experience.

On the way to my house Rick said, “You know, today has been a real happening. I’ve learned something. “

“So have I,” I said. “It wasn’t an easy thing, but I’m glad we went through it together.”

The final scene of that day’s comedy of errors came when I was told that someone had broken into the church that morning and stolen some office supplies. The sexton didn’t hide his smile when he said, “I understand that while the church was broken into, you were out stealing wood!”

Being an example is an awesome thing. God in his sovereignty has chosen to place this kind of responsibility on human beings, not because we are perfect, but because we are people in the process of becoming more Christlike.

The very fact that we aren’t perfect makes the process more evident. My own failures make me aware of my inadequacy and dependence on Christ. I could easily have lost my temper with Rick that memorable day, and I think it was evident to him that his pastor was not a patient man but that God gave him patience.

The greatest need in the church is for mutual servanthood, but it begins with the elders. We don’t teach submission by demanding that others yield to us, but by submitting to them. If our attitude of servanthood is genuine, others will sense more of their own worth, and will be given the desire to follow in submission.

All along, Jesus was trying to communicate to his disciples that the way to find life is to give it up, the way to use authority is to submit, and the key to being a leader is to master servanthood.

“They will know you are my disciples because you love one another,” Jesus said. Mature Christian love is expressed in mutual servanthood. A church where this is in process will be an accepting and loving fellowship where we find ourselves by giving ourselves.

- More from Donald L. Bubna with Sarah M. Ricketts

Pastors

Comments from the Editor

Paul D. Robbins

One of the fringe benefits of this job is the privilege of sitting where a lot of interesting people and ideas crisscross. This past week was no exception. My appointment book was filled with the names of many gifted and dedicated people who wanted to talk about what’s happening in the church as well as in their own lives. What sticks out as I reflect on those conversations is not the exciting news or stimulating ideas we may have discussed, but the high percentage of hurt and pain that seeped through the words and phrases. Often the subject of conflict and crisis became the focal point of our dialogue. I was vividly reminded that the price of ministry is high. Few Christian leaders escape at least one devastating, crunching experience during their lifetimes.

Roy Price, a Louisville, Kentucky, minister refers to a poll conducted by a major denomination where it was found that a pastoral crisis occurs every eighteen months among its ministers (see “Building Trust Between Pastor and Congregation”). That this may not be too unusual was confirmed as I reviewed a list of one hundred article suggestions sent to us by a cross-section of church leaders. More than 25 percent of these ideas dealt directly with conflict and crisis. Few areas of church life were excluded; the spectrum ran from “Disillusionment With the Teamwork Speech” to “What Action to Take When the Pastor Has Lost His Effectiveness.”

When we planned this issue of LEADERSHIP, we faced the difficult decision of deciding which dimensions of this complex theme we should present. As the printing deadline approached, I developed a sense of frustration about the unlimited scope of the subject. In the limitations of a journal it’s impossible to speak to such an important subject in a comprehensive manner.

But what appeared to be a weakness may be a basic strength. More than anything else, we want LEADERSHIP to be an attractive package of stimulating viewpoints and models that will spark hundreds of discussions about effective ministry among pastors, church staff members, and lay leaders. We’re in the business of opening doors and windows, not giving exhaustive analysis.

We are pleased to announce the appointment of Daniel W. Pawley as Assistant Editor of LEADERSHIP. Dan is a graduate of the University of South Florida where he majored in journalism and English. For three years Dan was a member of an itinerant ministry team that served a number of Canadian churches. He has already contributed significantly to LEADERSHIP and you will be hearing more from him in the months ahead.

Before the next issue is published, we hope to have two more staff members. Meanwhile, some of us are panting pretty hard as we do double-duty for Christianity Today and LEADERSHIP. A very special thank you is in order for Laurie Powell, Administrative Assistant; Nellie Strehl, Production Manager; and Joan Nickerson, Director of Art and Design. Each of these women has worked many extra hours including reading galleys and proofs at home to make this journal possible.

One last thought about the theme of this issue. Whenever I think of the words conflict and crisis, I’m reminded of a word picture a friend painted for me several years ago. In his inimitable style he said, “The next time you’re really down-hurt, battered, discouraged, depressed-try to imagine God with a very worried look on his face frantically pacing back and forth through heaven wringing his hands and saying, ‘My goodness, what are we going to do about Paul Robbins’ problem?’ ” My friend’s picture has never failed to ease a smile across my face, strike a tune in my soul, and help me face another day.

- More from Paul D. Robbins

Pastors

A Parsonage or Housing Allowance– Which is Better?

Manfred Holck, Jr.

Manfred Holck, Jr., contrasts the viewpoints of pastors and congregations.

The Pastor’s Point of View

It’s hard to know. It all depends. Which way is better for whom-congregation or the pastor’s family?

For pastors there’s a number of reasons why a parsonage makes sense; why the housing allowance makes: sense too.

Why many pastors prefer parsonages.

1. When the pastor wakes up in the middle of the ~~: night, hears water running, and discovers there’s a leak in the plumbing, what does he do? He calls the: parsonage committee. That’s a major advantage of the parsonage. He doesn’t have to bother with these problems personally. It’s the committee’s job to fix the leak. The congregation is the landlord; the pastor is only the tenant. No fuss, no mess. Leave it to the committee.

2. Not every house in every community is easily sold. If marketability or residential housing is – 0:g limited, a pastor should not become a home owner. A parsonage avoids the risk of a soft market. 51

3. For pastors eager to relocate quickly, the parsonage offers an immediate exit; no selling problem, no fixing up to sell, no haggling with buyers,> no delay in moving. Just call a moving van, pack a suitcase, and leave. ,

4. Some parsonages are elegant, far more – REP housing than a pastor could ever afford to buy. It’s a dream come true for the pastor’s spouse. Church members are often proud to have their pastor’s:: family live in a very fine home.

5. Pastors who cannot afford to purchase a home may have no choice. It’s not easy to come up with a down payment on a pastor’s pay. Often a parsonage is the only alternative.

6. In most places a parsonage is exempt from real estate taxes. The pastor who owns a house pays those taxes.

7. Some pastors simply do not want to be bothered with the details, problems, and potential t headaches of home ownership.

Why many pastors prefer housing allowances.

1. A home in the hills, a cabin on the lake, a ranch-style in the suburbs, an historic monument g in the country-you name it. With a housing allowance a pastor has more of a choice. Congregations < may have preferences, they may make suggestions, h they may limit choices by the dollar allowance offered, but the pastor picks out the house. |

2. Paying off a mortgage is like being forced to g put money in the bank. Home owners increase their I financial worth by reducing their mortgages and . building up their equity.

3. In recent years inflation has played havoc with W housing costs. But that cost to a buyer is equity to g the seller. Buy a home, do nothing but live there for | five years and the market value may double. Pastors 8 in parsonages stay even; home-owning pastors may û move ahead.

4. Pastors who constantly receive offers to relocate may find home ownership helpful in evaluating a potential move. It’s not always easy to sell and leave. There’s a certain permanency about owning a home.

5. Home ownership offers the pastor more opportunities to be involved in community affairs home owners pay real estate taxes and real estate taxes support the community. Pastors who are concerned about the use of tax monies or who promote Q the use of those dollars for special projects may be more convincing as tax payers. Pastors in parson- g ages may be concerned or promote, but if they can’t 8 put their money where their mouths are, they lose. some credibility.

6. Home ownership forces pastors to know the S difference between a pair of pliers and a screwdriver. It guarantees experience in fixing leaky g faucets, knowing termites from ants, shoveling a snow off a roof, and solving a damp basement problem.

7. A mortgage may help a pastor’s ministry be-i come more effective. The pastor with a mortgage has a financial burden that parallels his congregation’s. If he has to struggle to meet that monthlyÇ payment, he’ll better understand the financial frustrations of others. In fact, a home-owning pastors can show that giving to the work of the church need not be diminished simply because of normal, financial obligations. The pastor’s credibility is enhanced.

8. Among the important advantages of home ownership is the problem of family housing at the time of death or disability. Parsonage families must move eventually. Home-owning families can stay as long as they like. One trauma is not compounded by another.

9. Housing for the retirement years is no small matter. Among the greatest of clergy concerns, especially clergy over age fifty, are retirement housing needs. Parsonages are not for retired clergy. A i housing allowance provides an early solution to this | problem.

10. There’s an advantageous tax benefit for home-owning clergy. According to Section 107 of the Internal Revenue Code, any housing allowance paid to a minister is excludable from taxable income to the extent used to provide a home. That income is simply not taxable. Also, clergy in parsonages need not report the fair rental value of their home as income. All clergy have this advantage. However, the home-owning pastor has more of a benefit. Not only may that allowance be excluded to the extent it is used (and use includes down payment, mortgage payments, taxes, utilities, furniture, repairs, and insurance), but the interest paid on the mortgage and the real estate taxes paid on the home are also deductible on Schedule A of Form 1040. That’s a double tax benefit-something clergy in parsonages don’t receive.

The Congregation’s Point of View

For the congregation there is yet another set of reasons, pro and con, why one choice makes sense and the other does too.

A parsonage or a housing allowance? Perhaps you’re up against the issue now. If so, this article may help.

Why many congregations prefer parsonages.

1. Tradition is one of the most common reasons congregations hang on to parsonages; “That’s the way we’ve always done it.” And there may be good reason for keeping the parsonage in spite of the “we’ve always done it that way” syndrome. Change for the sake of change usually creates problems. If there are no good reasons for discarding the parsonage concept, why change?

2. Many parsonages are white elephants, they could never be sold or used profitably in another way. Rural parsonages do not sell and inner-city townhouses may have to be abandoned if not used. The congregation has no choice.

3. Congregations like to build their net worth. Equity builds for the congregation just as it would if the pastor owned the home. Plus, congregations with parsonages always have a home to offer to the next pastor who comes along.

4. Many churches believe that a parsonage is less expensive than a housing allowance. However, this. may be deceiving. A fully-paid $60,000 parsonage converted to cash and drawing 15 percent interest would earn $9,000 per year. And there would be no maintenance, insurance, or utilities. A housing allowance may be the least expensive of the two options.

5. Some pastors simply cannot finance the purchase of a home. Housing may be too expensive even if mortgage money can be found. Consequently, a parsonage is the only choice; and it assures the congregation that they can immediately house their pastor.

6. Most congregations like their pastor to have a nice home. To guarantee that the pastor lives in a home as nice as the membership, they provide a parsonage. Obviously, a beautiful home will make a potential pastor’s family more receptive to relocating. ]

7. Parsonages are usually exempt from real estate taxes. A home-owning pastor would have to pay that tax.

8. Some congregations prefer to keep all their options open: if things don’t work out, a pastor in a parsonage can be moved out of the community conveniently, easily, and quickly. Those who own their own homes may be around for some time.

9. Parsonage mortgages do get paid; a housing allowance never ends. Repairs, upkeep, and utilities will continue, but so does an allowance. Parsonages may be a way to keep long-term costs for clergy housing under reasonable control.

Why many congregations prefer a housing allowance. ]

1. Increasing numbers of congregations are considering the housing allowance. Most congregational leaders simply want to get the church out of the real estate business. Selling the parsonage and paying a housing allowance does that. It eliminates the problems of being a landlord. The venerable parsonage committee can be disbanded forever.

2. Paying rent provides shelter, but it doesn’t boost net worth. Congregations that are in a position to put their pastor’s financial interests before their own will provide an allowance.

3. At death or disability, what does the congregation do? Kick the family out of the parsonage? Of course not, but it does create an awkward situation. Many congregations avoid this problem by offering a housing allowance.

4. Planning for retirement housing isn’t easy for anyone, but it’s a lot easier for clergy who have a housing allowance than for those in a parsonage. Concerned congregations may offer a housing al

allowance to assist the retirement planning process.

5. Some pastors will only consider a move to a church that offers a housing allowance. That’s especially true if they are already home owners. Moving from a home to a parsonage can have costly capital gains tax consequences. This may not be sufficient cause to reject a call, but it it will be a consideration.

6. Housing allowances tend to simplify church budgets. There are no mortgage payments, no repairs, and no estimates for utility costs. It’s clean, quick, and simple.

7. Not many people prefer to live in housing selected by a committee; a housing allowance gives the choice to the pastor. Congregational leaders who are sensitive to pastoral choice will advocate the allowance idea.

8. There’s no worry (or meeting upon meeting) about selling an unmarketable parsonage. It solves the white elephant problem

A final note-

A parsonage or a housing allowance? Which is better? Whatever the choice, pastor and congregation alike must keep in mind that it’s not all roses either way. The options presented here are certainly not exhaustive. You may think of others. But this listing may stimulate discussion that enlightens both sides.

- More from Manfred Holck, Jr.

Pastors

HOW ONE CHURCH

Just to announce it provoked mixed reactions. A majority displayed “couldn’t-care-less” attitudes and never attended. Others carefully marked it on their calendars as the occasion to exercise Godgiven rights to free speech. The elders and pastoral staff approached it with all the apprehensions of a bomb squad. The rest came for the fireworks.

The pattern was predictable: after reporting on “all the wonderful things God did for us last year,” a new budget was presented for discussion and adoption. The tension could be sensed, felt, and I almost tasted as the pace of questions quickened about allocations for the church school, missions support, the music budget, manse repairs, and staff salaries. If a massive explosion didn’t occur during the meeting, smaller eruptions took place afterward in the corridors, parking lots, and homes across the community. The end result was always the same: the motion to adopt the budget was carried by a simple majority, but the fallout of misunderstandings, anger, and strained relationships lasted for six months.

One church, after licking its wounds for several years over congregational confrontations, decided to do something about it. First, the ruling elders asked the trustees and staff to accelerate the budget-planning process by 60 days.

Second, with the initial budget recommendations in hand, all three groups rigorously debated each part of the budget, and often sent whole sections back for redrafting.

Third, the entire membership was invited to attend one of two identical briefing sessions in which a draft of the proposed budget was presented and feedback was encouraged. All elders, trustees, and staff were prepared to present supporting rationales for any part of the proposed budget. The chairperson made it clear that the purpose of the meeting was discussion-no action would be taken-and that all feedback would be carefully evaluated.

Fourth, the elders and trustees met again, reviewed the feedback, made any changes they felt were necessary, and adopted a final draft for recommendation to the membership at the annual business meeting.

Instead of holding the business meeting within the formal environment of the sanctuary, a small but modest room was secured that would accommodate a sit-down, catered dinner. While the occasion was business, the atmosphere suggested fellowship. A brief program of informal testimonials and slides which reviewed the previous year set the stage for the formal business session.

The budget was introduced, reviewed, and adopted in three minutes flat!

In the corridors, parking lots, and homes across the community that evening, people talked enthusiastically this time about all the good things God was going to do during the coming year.

Pastors

Warning Signs: A Brief Guide for Pinpointing Breakdown between Pastor and Staff Members

Wayne L. Jacobsen

Is a staff member reacting to new situations differently than usual? Often this takes the form of two extremes; He becomes overly docile when requests are made of him. “I’ll roll over and take whatever you dish out.” Or he over-reacts to minor situations, thereby bringing out deeper hostilities on larger issues.

Is there a repeated lack of communication between you and your staff? Are the right people getting the right information?

Has a staff member lost intensity about his work and ministry? Is he fulfilling roles without enthusiasm?

Is a staff member confused about what his proper functions and responsibilities are? If you’re expecting results from him that you’re not getting, chances are he’s confused.

When these signs become evident, you as the pastor and supervisor need to do two things: First, go back to the staff member’s original job description and make sure that guidelines and responsibilities are spelled out. Second, respond to the staff member with love and concern. Don’t just seek to correct problems, but give guidance and direction with a loving hand.

If you’re a staff member, you too have warning signs to heed.

Have you lost respect for your pastor? If you’re more critical than supportive of his work, chances are your respect for him has diminished.

Are you bothered by having the bulk of your suggestions deemed “unimportant”?

Have your opportunities to minister to the body suddenly shifted or disappeared?

Are you taking an “I-don’t-care” approach to problems in your church you think you have solutions for but no authority to implement them?

There are no simple answers. But when these signs become visible problems, it’s time to adjust. You can’t lose respect for your pastor and remain effective. If your concerns are valid, it might be time to leave; but make sure your judgments are based on something substantial and not simply differences of approach.

Above all, do not tolerate long-range dissatisfaction- ‘ and frustration. It must be dealt with by caring, 0 even if the only avenues to express your concern are prayer and patience. 0

- More from Wayne L. Jacobsen

Pastors

Christian Versus Christian

Isaac Rottenberg

Conflict is inevitable. When it comes, face it–and follow Jesus’ style of confrontational ministry.

Christian Jones attends church regularly, contributes heavily to the budget, and is a member of the official board. He is also an obstructionist. When decisions need to be made, Mr. Jones never ceases to advise caution. To him, the status quo is a sacred trust. At a recent board meeting he responded as though on cue.

The discussion concerned launching a neighborhood outreach program that had proven successful in several sister churches. The sincerity and enthusiasm of the evangelism committee began to slowly penetrate the fog that often envelops long evenings around the conference table. To top off an exceptionally good presentation, the committee chairman, Jack Johnson, reported that a team of lay volunteers from a sister church would be willing to conduct an evangelism workshop for only the cost of travel expenses.

That was the cue! After the customary clearing of his throat, Mr. Jones began his familiar refrain: “Now don’t get me wrong . . . it’s not that I personally object, but I’m concerned about how many of our members will view this kind of thing.”

“I don’t understand,” Jack replied. “We’ve talked about a program like this for months, and now we have the opportunity to learn from people who’ve proven they know what they are doing.”

“Yes, but these people don’t know our congregation or our neighborhoods. How do we know that we aren’t setting ourselves up for some kind of ‘buttonhole blitz’ that will anger our neighbors and make us look like a bunch of religious fanatics? Besides, after hearing the treasurer’s report this evening, I don’t see how we can afford to fly in a bunch of people to tell us something we can develop for ourselves. Let’s just read the literature and do it our own way.”

Jack tried to maintain a pleasant expression, but unmistakable hurt darkened his eyes. Even though one of the board members lamely offered to personally pick up the expenses, the damage had been done. The motion to proceed was tabled, and assigned to a slow but sure death in the study committee.

Who can withstand Christian Jones . . . twenty-year board member Mr. Jones . . . the same Jones who has seen six pastors come and go (four since he joined the board)?

Pastor Theophilus Bauer and the other board members have concluded that it is best to go easy on Brother Jones. Confrontation must be avoided at all cost, since it would only lead to conflict, with its potential for unpleasant consequences. On the rare occasion that Mr. Jones is absent from board meetings, jokes about getting home before midnight do the rounds. After most meetings, however, board members return home mumbling and grumbling about wasting their time.

To avoid dealing with Brother Jones’s behavior takes considerable time and energy. “It’s the Christian thing to do,” Pastor Bauer tells himself and others. No doubt he also believes that he is doing what love demands. But is it, really? He may be confusing love with sentimentality. Avoidance of conflict is often based on false notions about the Christian faith and life.

Take anger, for example. Christians, according to the Bible, are kind and patient people. So far, so good. Ergo Christians never show anger. Not so! At least, that’s not what the Bible teaches. “Be angry, but sin not,” we read in Psalm 4. Applied to-the Jones problem, I would interpret that principle to mean: Do not let your anger lead you to a destructive form of confrontation; rather, let your confrontation be so tempered by love that it opens up opportunities for reconciliation, personal growth, and more cooperative relationships.

Feelings that are repressed and conflicts that are avoided do not fade away. Usually they reassert themselves with a vengeance, perhaps via the grapevine or in other forms of destructive behavior. Frequently they become the underground forces that threaten the very life of a community.

Confrontation, on the other hand, can be creative. It is rarely painless, but the hurts can become part of a healing process and the aches can turn out to be growing pains. It all depends on how it is handled.

During the past two decades the volume of literature on conflict management has increased immensely. The Journal of Conflict Resolution is devoted solely to research on that subject. Behavioral scientists have focused much of their attention on human conflict. Workshops have been designed to help people deal with conflict. This interest in the topic is not surprising-just look at the “confrontation politics” in society and the polarization in many churches.

New insights and new skills are needed. The behavioral sciences have much to teach us and, as Christians, we should not ignore their findings, I have benefited from participation in “conflict labs. ” But, as Christian leaders, we should draw first of all on the biblical insights concerning confrontation, conflict, and reconciliation. These themes lie at the center of the biblical message.

Jesus often used a confrontational style of ministry, as did the prophets before him. Some gospel passages sound downright abrasive. “You hypocrites!” “You whitewashed tombstones!” Confrontation frequently led to conflict; in the end it led Jesus to the cross. Yet, for the Christian faith, the cross is more than the symbol of sin and estrangement; it also represents divine grace and reconciliation. Our confrontations, too, can become experiences of death and resurrection.

The handbooks on conflict management tell us that tension and controversy must be accepted as normal experiences of life; they come with being human; unavoidable where diverse views are expressed and challenged in open discussion, where people seek to cope with change and to shape their future. As a matter of fact, a close relationship exists between conflict and creativity. Without it life would become sterile and suffocating.

Jesus said that conflict is inevitable, particularly in situations where people must take a stand and affirm a commitment of ultimate significance. This happens when he confronts us with his Lordship and we hear his call to discipleship. Our response will have far-reaching consequences in our relationships with others, especially the people close to us. Matthew 10 leaves little doubt on the matter: “I have not come to bring peace . . .; I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother. . .; he who loves father and mother more than me is not worthy of me. … “

Is that the good news? That he did not come to bring peace? Was not God in Christ reconciling the world to himself? Yes, and confrontation, rather than being an occasional departure from his true mission, is an integral part of that ministry of reconciliation.

We so easily forget that love and conflict are not necessarily opposed to each other. As a matter of fact, lack of conflict can be a sign of indifference, evidence that people don’t care about each other or about the church’s faith and ministry.

When Jesus told the rich young ruler to sell his possessions, give his money to the poor, and follow him, he wanted that young man to face himself. He challenged him in order to encourage self-confrontation. Why? Because without it there will be no honest confession, and without such a confession there will be no experience of forgiveness and inner freedom. Confrontation, as part of Jesus’ ministry of reconciliation, can be seen as a form of “reality therapy.”

Or, take the story of Nicodemus, a religious leader of learning and sophistication, who came in the safety of night to talk with Jesus. One can imagine the annoyance Nicodemus felt when Jesus turned the conversation away from purely intellectual pursuits and confronted him with his need for rebirth. Such an embarrassing topic for conversation!

In these stories the reader senses the inner turmoil and tension that were aroused by Jesus’ approach. Whatever happened, one wonders, to the young aristocrat after his sad, “No, thank you,” or to the old scholar after he slipped back into the darkness of night? Did the encounter with Jesus ultimately make a difference in their lives? We are not told.

We do know what happened to a woman whom Jesus met in Samaria. That story, found in John 4, ends on a positive, even jubilant note. It’s a dramatic account of Jesus’ confrontational ministry. First, there is the woman’s utter surprise that Jesus would have any dealings with her. Not only was it contrary to custom for a man to approach a woman in public, but Jews also commonly avoided contact with Samaritans. But Jesus was different, unconventional. How different he was, the woman discovered as the encounter developed. Her life was laid bare, even to the sordid details of her love affairs. It must have been painful for her to be exposed like that-five marriages, now living with a man who is not her husband, a reputation that had filled her life with experiences of rejection. But this confronter! There was something about him that made the woman wonder whether he could be the Christ. Through a painful self-confrontation this person found healing and went on her way rejoicing, ready to meet her neighbors, to face their skepticism, and to share her new-found faith.

Recent literature has said much about “game playing” in conflict situations. It’s a response motivated by our desire to avoid the pain of selfconfrontation. Although we long to achieve personal fulfillment, we fear the price we may have to pay in order to find it. Facing what one is really like-the Bible calls that confession-can make us profoundly uncomfortable and is like dying a thousand deaths. Can we really afford to become vulnerable, especially in the presence of people who know us?

The Bible contains many insights into the nature of game-playing. The woman at the well frantically tried to change the subject the moment Jesus touched on her personal life by asking, “On which mountain ought we to worship?” She was playing the “liturgical question” version of an old game called, “Let’s argue religion.” It’s usually an attempt to replace an uncomfortable confrontation with an abstract discussion. What a lovely topic to argue about, particularly if it appears to offer a way out of the painful experience of coming to terms with God and one’s own condition!

When Jesus brought the rich young ruler face to face with his real priorities, the young man followed a similar route. “Who is my neighbor?” he asked. In other words, let’s debate the idea of “neighbor.” We ought to formulate a theory on the subject, perhaps appoint a committee to undertake a theological study of the question. In the meantime, we can avoid meeting our neighbors and becoming sensitive to their needs.

Nicodemus was jarred out of his intellectual self-assurance by Jesus’ remark about the importance of personal rebirth. In his embarrassment and discomfort Nicodemus sarcastically remarked, “How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?” In short, let’s analyze language and play a bit with logic! It is so much safer than dealing with life.

Pastor Bauer, Brother Jones, and the other members of the board are playing similar games. They avoid conflict in order to keep their illusion of peace and harmony. While sparing each other the pain of confrontation, they miss opportunities to grow personally, and to develop a more effective ministry of the church. If Brother Jones were ever confronted with his obstructionist behavior, his initial response would probably not be much different from the tactics of the people in the biblical accounts. But miracles do happen. By God’s grace people are radically changed. By losing their lives in confession, they can find new life in an experience of forgiveness. Without this conviction our ministry would be robbed of its vision.

I am not, of course, advocating that church leaders simply vent their hostilities. That would be the opposite of creative confrontation. Nor should ministers use the sermon and the privilege of the pulpit to strike out at their people while avoiding direct confrontation and the opportunity for open discussion. That is one of the greatest temptations preachers face and one of the most dangerous games they can play. It arouses deep resentment, and rightly so, because it is unfair, unloving, and manipulative. Jesus looked at that young go-getter ruler and loved him. The moment we look at our parishioners with even the slightest measure of contempt, the chances for a creative ministry of reconciliation are diminished.

As ministers we send out many signals about ourselves as well as our beliefs about human relationships. Some of those signals are broadcast by how we handle confrontation, particularly by how we react when people confront us. Do we try to pull spiritual rank with indignant claims that we are accountable to the Holy Spirit alone? Do we piously sermonize, hoping to make people feel guilty? Do we play the game of power politics by isolating those who challenge or disagree, not with our authority as ministers of the Word, but with our authoritarianism?

Creative confrontation cannot occur in that environment. It can only happen in an environment of openness with a high level of mutual acceptance. It can play a constructive role only in an atmosphere where people love each other enough to truly listen to each other. It requires a tolerance for diversity of views without the sacrifice of deeply held convictions on issues of faith and values.

Wise and compassionate leadership can cultivate an environment conducive to creative confrontation. Children and adults can be helped to share their feelings and the questions that burden their souls. A church education program needs to move beyond indoctrination to the sharing of faith in an atmosphere of trust. The small group movement during the past decades has sought to stimulate this kind of congregational life.

A deep-seated fear of rejection prevents many people from revealing their true selves. A confession may be good for the soul, but where can one afford to utter it? When Jesus confronted people, he did it in the context of love, a liberating love that left no doubt that his criticism was blended with compassion and grace. Growth is a painful process at any age; it needs the sustaining power of grace. A church where a person cannot risk exposure will be weak in its ministry of reconciliation.

It will also be weak, not when its members have an occasional fight, but rather when they tend to evade confrontation on the important issues and then vent their frustrations in petty bickerings. This happens in many churches. Mrs. A. is mad at everybody because she has not been put in charge of the annual bazaar; Mr. B. is outraged because the building committee has picked the wrong color paint for the fellowship hall; and for more than a year Miss C., the choir director, has refused to speak to the board members who voted to permit occasional guitar music during the worship services. Such uncreative conflicts sap a church of its vitality and paralyze its ministry.

If we want creative confrontation, we have to learn to choose issues that are worth fighting about. Paul, for instance, knew that much when he took on Peter (as described in Galatians 2). The issue was Christian freedom, something that was worth a confrontation.

Paul and Peter, two men of such different temperament, may have had other points of friction and disagreement between them. That’s part of life, and mature people learn to live with it. But, there come moments when one must take a stand and be willing to confront and to risk conflict.

Poor Peter! He had his problems, and one can certainly sympathize with him. His upbringing had not prepared him for relationships with Gentiles. According to his background, segregation between Jews and Gentiles was the accepted way of life. No wonder he was anxious about the new ways and lost his nerve in a tense situation.

But there were bigger issues at stake, namelv freedom in Christ and the credibility of the Church’s proclamation. Those could not be compromised or brushed aside with a reference to “poor Peter.” Peter needed the confrontation with Paul to help him face what he was doing and break out of the cultural captivity that jeopardized his witness and scandalized the Church.

Pastor Bauer could sympathize with Brother Jones! After all, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” A noble sentiment and true enough! But we do not grow by having others humor us and find excuses for our hang-ups. Nor is covert hostility healthier for the church than honest confrontation.

In Brother Jones’s case, the motion to table the discussion on evangelism, the tone of voice in which it was offered, the manner in which it was seconded and voted on-all sent out clear signals of disappointment and anger to him. Even the closing prayer, though quite “spiritual” in language, communicated a hidden message of resentment and a desire to rebuke: “Lord, help us to come to a place of unity. And if anyone of us this evening has failed to see your will to advance your kingdom, help us to find renewal of heart through your Spirit.”

For three days, Pastor Bauer straggled with “the Jones situation” and with the question of his own role as pastor. Finally, in fear and trembling, but also with a newly gained sense of assurance about what needed to be done, he went to see Christian Jones. “I feel that I have to tell you how angry I was after last Monday’s board meeting,” he blurted out after an awkward exchange of greetings. “I don’t feel right about it and thought it might help if you and I could talk.” And talk they did.

Mr. Jones’s initial response was defiant. “Are you telling me that only ‘yes-sayers’ can be board members in good standing? Or don’t you think that I have the well-being of our church at heart?”

“I know you do, and your independence of mind is a quality that I want in our meetings. But, you sometimes come across as . . . well, as if you need to disagree for disagreement’s sake.”

“What do you mean?”

They discussed that question for an hour and a half. Pastor Theophilus Bauer drove home, feeling a bit shaky about the experience, but also experiencing a sense of relief and hope. “There are some things I’d like to talk about with you when we have a chance,” Jones had said as they shook hands at the door. “Sure,” he had answered. In that one word he had sought to express a word of encouragement to a member who was hurting, as well as his conviction that, by God’s grace, a ministry of healing had been started.

The God of the Bible is the great confronter. He reveals himself as the one who calls us to repentance as a precondition for personal rebirth and fulfillment. Therefore, the Church’s ministry of reconciliation can never be without confrontation. We don’t have to look for it; it simply comes with faithful service. 4

That’s why leadership requires courage and | passion, two essential ingredients in creative con-l comfrontation. Courage without compassion easily 4 leads to a self-righteous authoritarianism. Compassion without courage can lead to a sweet sentimentality that goes by the name of love, but finds its actual source in a lack of nerve. The blending of the two is not so much a matter of technique or of getting one’s act together. Rather, it is being prepared to let-oneself be confronted by the divine Word of judgment and grace . . . it is a matter of growing together to greater maturity in Christ.

- More from Isaac Rottenberg

Pastors

A Message from the Publisher: April 01, 1980

Harold L. Myra

One of the nicest things a board member can do is stand up and say, “Your plan sounds great and I’m all for it, but I don’t see how you can pull it off.” Said with a supportive shake of the head it can be non-threatening if he really is behind you and willing to back your plan anyway. The nice thing is that it provides a wonderful “See-we-did-it” speech later on.

As our board reviewed the plans for LEADERSHIP last June, one member said about our projections to break even the first year, “I’m all for starting this,: but I think your figures are too optimistic.” Actually, he was using horse sense-most magazines take at least three years to break into the black; Sports Illustrated took about a dozen. In fact, of any two hundred magazines started today, only about five last eighteen months. The only reason our staff was so optimistic was that they had test results in their hands. Pastors and lay leaders wanted and needed LEADERSHIP, and the tests indicated they would pay for it.

Well, we can now say “We told you so” to our board member, and he’s rejoicing with us. The results of the major mailings have done as well as the tests, and even compiled lists are working. We may even have to go back on press with our first issue despite its 50,000 press run. We’ve had calls from people so convinced of LEADERSHIP’s value they want to send it to all the pastors in their areas.

A Christian leader in California said to Paul Robbins, “Well, you’ve put out a whale of a product; now how are you going to pay for it?” The encouraging thing is, with 50,000 copies being sold, LEADERSHIP is already in the black. And, unless paper costs go out of sight, we believe we can hold the line on prices for the immediate future.

Paul and I and other staff members have been dragging bottom a bit in getting LEADERSHIP launched and carrying our regular responsibilities as well. Yet Paul said in my office yesterday, “My nose is barely above water, yet there’s an edge of exhilaration.” It is fulfilling to reach out through print, and touch felt needs.

At the same time, I feel slightly uncomfortable saying how wonderful everything is going and how God has shown himself in it. I firmly believe he has; yet as we see in David Mains’s article in this issue, God also works through failure, and in little ways as well as big successes. I’m reminded of Tolkien’s hobbits, those small rabbit-like creatures, who just went about their tasks in the great adventure they had embraced. There was much tedium in their adventure, and at the end of four thick books, there they are, rather insignificant against the massive forces of evil. Yet they continue their slogging, wearying journey day after day after day, and when they finally cast the rings into the pit, they strike to the core of evil and change everything. At LEADERSHIP we spend a lot of time reading galleys and polishing titles and triple-checking layouts, and many other ordinary, sometimes tedious duties. Yet, out of all the details by so many people, we sense God is at work.

Our dose of happy humility-and perhaps you can identify with this in your work as well-comes from Gandalf, the Christ figure in Lord of the Rings: “Then the prophecies have turned out to be true?” asked Bilbo. “Of course,” said Gandalf, “and why should they not prove true? Surely you don’t disbelieve the prophecies because you had a hand in bringing them about yourself? You don’t really suppose, do you, that all your adventures and escapes were managed by mere luck, just for our sole benefit? You are a very fine person, Mr. Baggins, and I am very fond of you: but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world after all.”

Harold L. Myra President, Christianity Today, Inc.

- More from Harold L. Myra

Pastors

Conflict in the Black Church

Robert T. Newbold, Jr.

The black church has often failed to manage conflict because it believes conflict is wrong.

Recently, we spent an evening in East Orange, New Jersey, with advisory board member Stanley Long and a dozen black lay persons he had assembled. Dialogue flowed freely and intensely as both men and women expressed opinions about the causes and cures for conflict in the black church.

It quickly became apparent that while certain specific problems are somewhat unique to a local black congregation, the basic elements of conflict disregard denomination, polity, size, and color. The sources of conflict and the means for resolving conflict are universal.

We agreed with Stan’s observation that the following article speaks well to the issues raised at our meeting.

The church is the most historic, influential, and strongest institution in the black community. It has not, however, fulfilled its potential for economic, social, and spiritual leadership. I believe a principal cause of the shortfall is its failure to manage internal conflict creatively.

Why has the black church failed to manage conflict? First, it believes that conflict is wrong. A situation involving conflict is adjudged to be a sinful situation. The individual who generates it is often viewed as an agent of the devil.

But conflict is not immoral; it is amoral. It can come out of a sin; but it need not be sinful. Unfortunately, we attach negative results to conflict without realizing that it can lead to positive results.

Another reason the black church has not managed conflict is expressed by Douglas W. Johnson in his book, Managing Change in the Church:

“Church leaders often feel guilty when conflict is generated or becomes a major part of the decision-making process.”

This guilt arises from the belief that conflict is abnormal. On the contrary, it is a natural result of human interaction, and is inherent in organization.

A third reason the black church has failed to manage conflict is that its leadership and followship have not always had the courage to deal creatively with it. It takes courage to enter purposely into confrontation. Withdrawal from potential conflict is easy. What is often forgotten, however, is that personal withdrawal does not resolve anything. The reasons for the conflict remain, and the possibility of escalation increases.

The fourth reason for failure is because of unwillingness to take high risks. Conflict management is fraught with human alienation, resentment, and the need to get in touch with one’s feelings. The cost is too high.

Floyd Massey and Samuel McKinney have plumbed the depths of their experience and

search to give us three pertinent causes of conflict in the black church.

A. Latent Ambitions. A young man found no opportunity for the realization of his ambitions on the job. His energies were bottled up. Sometime later he joined the church, and there his irrepressible ambitions surfaced. His goal was to obtain membership on the deacon’s board. He knew that “in the average black Baptist church, the deacon board is the power board.” However, the routes to his destination intersected the paths of other ambitious men in the congregation. The result: A series of conflicts.

B. Power Struggle. Deacon Jones enjoyed being the opinion-molder and congregational leader in the Mount Zion Baptist Church. It had long been acknowledged that Deacon Jones’s influence was greater than that of the former pastor. A new, young, activist pastor was called to the church. His first self-allocated task was to wrest power from Deacon Jones. The pastor’s strong belief was that no layperson should exert more influence upon the congregation than the spiritual leader. This obsessive belief led the minister and the deacon into a bitter, ecclesiastical conflict.

C. Eclipse and Ascension. It was apparent to most members that the Pastor’s Aid committee had become the minister’s favorite organization in the church. The smallest efforts by the committee members guaranteed them his extended praise, and they enjoyed this position for three generations. Meanwhile, the members of the Flower Guild said, “We worked until our tongues were hanging out, but he was stingy in praising us.” When the minister died and a new pastor was called, the Pastor’s Aid made frequent overtures to become his favorite, but to no avail. The new minister refused to inherit a favorite auxiliary. The Pastor’s Aid was replaced by the Flower Guild. As a result, conflict between the two committees escalated.

Conflict announces its presence in black congregations with disturbing regularity. Key questions are: What does a church do when conflict comes? How does a pastor deal with it?

Rolla Swanson, writing in the Chicago Theological Seminary Register, stated that the crucial issues in dealing with conflict are “to be able to identify conflict, deal with it openly, and keep it from being destructive of the Christian community.”

Some students of conflict management have developed detailed, sophisticated, and scholarly formulas for successful management of conflict. After the professional veneer and ecclesiastical jargon are peeled away from these formulas, however, they become consonant with the simple and significant truths expressed by Swanson. Therefore, let’s apply his three suggestions in the context of the black church when there is conflict.

Identifying Conflict

In order to identify conflict, two things are necessary-a willingness and an ability to recognize conflict. Some individuals are willing, but do not know what to look for. The following are often heralds of conflict:

¥ continued fierce expressions of competition

¥ inability, or unwillingness to agree on purpose or goals

¥ unbridled jealousy

¥ expressions of unwillingness or resistance to communicate

¥ constant generation of negative feelings

¥ different role perceptions

Dealing with Conflict Openly

Openness and honesty involve the acknowledgment of the clashing of goals between church groups, differing interpretations concerning the role of the pastor and other church officials, and fierce power plays among members. Acknowledging these factors is the beginning step toward management of conflict. The attempt to hide these matters from others, and especially from oneself, compounds the conflict and delays its management.

Dealing honestly with conflict in the black church involves dealing honestly with feelings. This is the rub. Most of us are in touch with our thoughts, and, if asked at any given moment, we may reveal what we are thinking about. But we are usually out of touch with our feelings.

Our spiritual and cultural training have made us ashamed of negative feelings. Thus, we are reluctant to admit to our uneasiness in the presence of certain leaders. A resentment toward certain members, competition for power, tenseness in the presence of a domineering choir member, and hostility toward the pastor are feelings we deny.

However, alone or together, these are signals of latent interpersonal conflict. Repressed, they rob the pastor-parishioner relationship of stability and security. By being open and honest, the parties involved begin taking specific steps toward conflict management. Without this, there is escalation of conflict and little opportunity for reconciliation.

Reconciliation

The goal beyond conflict is reconciliation; but how is this achieved? First, confession must be made that reconciliation is easier to adopt as a goal than to achieve as an experience. Nevertheless, here are some suggestions.

Be willing to accept and salute the personhood of those with whom you are in conflict. The opposite is frequently true. Jesus knew how to rebuke a person’s delinquent behavior without rebuking the person. This is the key to conflict reconciliation. It is a lesson far too many pastors and parishioners have failed to learn.

Be willing to listen and try to understand the other party. This requires discipline which many men and women fail to apply to themselves. They hear, but do not listen. They make and accept critical judgments regarding others’ behavior; but they do not seek to understand the motivations, pressures, and problems that promote such behavior.

Carl Rogers says that in establishing the climate of encounter groups he listens “carefully, accurately, and sensitively . . . to each individual who expresses himself, whether the utterance is superficial or significant. To me, it is the individual who is worthwhile.”

Not only does listening point the way to reconciliation, understanding is required. And where there is no understanding, there is no compassion. The Gospels make frequent reference to the fact that Jesus looked upon individuals with compassion. He experienced something positive at the center of his being that moved him to positive action. This was the matrix out of which he fed the hungry, gave sight to the blind, made lepers clean, forgave sins, and raised the dead. It was his compassion that led him to restore individuals to wholeness. Expressions of compassion will enable more members in the black church to mend their splintered and broken relationships.

One more thing needs to be said. This article is not suggesting that there is more conflict in the predominantly black congregation than in the white. The purposes and examples given can be applied by all Christians when polarity makes its presence known, felt, and heard. As the black church learns how to deal more creatively with internal conflict, it will become a more potent force in the black community.

- More from Robert T. Newbold, Jr.

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