\nI had nothing to hide. No reprehensible behavior I was struggling with, no\nglaring character defects. In fact, I was feeling pretty self-righteous.\nDoug Self, with whom I’ve been meeting weekly since 1976, and I were sitting\ncomfortably in front of the fireplace at the Redstone Inn, enjoying our early\ncup of coffee as usual. We filled each other in on our week’s events as usual.\nWe enjoyed the peaceful ambiance as usual.<\/p>\n\n
\nThen out of the blue, Doug said, “Louis, I have something for you from the\nLord.”<\/p>\n\n
\nNot as usual.<\/p>\n
\nDoug proceeded to point out some ungodly attitudes in me that he’d been noticing.\nHe had been hearing me be critical and unloving.<\/p>\n\n
\nOuch!<\/p>\n\n
\nI knew what he was referring to. Frankly, I wasn’t interested in re-evaluating\nmy position or changing it.<\/p>\n\n
\nThe encounter reminded me why I need accountability-and why I resist it.\nI find accountability difficult for at least four reasons.<\/p>\n\n
\n“If you really knew what I’m like inside, you wouldn’t want to be seen with\nme.”<\/p>\n\n
\nI’ve heard that from countless individuals during my twenty-five years as\na psychiatrist. At times I’ve felt the same way. Fear of rejection often\nmakes accountability scary. But the times I’ve come clean, no matter how\nhard, have led to acceptance and forgiveness rather than rejection.<\/p>\n\n
\nI learned this lesson early on.<\/p>\n\n
\nMy parents stressed honesty: “It will be better for you to tell the truth\nthan try to lie. If we find out you’ve been untruthful, your punishment will\nbe much worse.” Growing up, I believed that. In fact my fear of the “much\nworse” was usually stronger than my fear of rejection.<\/p>\n\n
\nI remember vividly one exception, and it taught me it’s better to open up\nthan get caught.<\/p>\n\n
\nIn fifth grade, there was a new girl in our class whom nobody liked much.\nShe was a bit hateful, but I’m sure she had every reason to be. We certainly\ndidn’t treat her hospitably.<\/p>\n\n
\nOne day Jane brought an autograph book to class and asked everyone to sign\nit and write something to her. At the time, I was learning some things about\nthe world, including my first cuss words. So I thought it would be clever\nto call Jane a bad name in her autograph book, but to disguise it by writing\nit backwards. Needless to say, it didn’t take her long to decipher my code—and\nshow our teacher.<\/p>\n\n
\nThe first thing I knew, I was on my way to the principal’s office. Those\nwere the days when a principal could use corporal punishment, and Townsend\nThompson was famous for using that authority. What made things worse was\nthat as I entered Mr. Thompson’s office, the first person I saw was my dad.\nThen, Mr. Thompson, and then, Jane’s autograph book. After a brief and weak\ndisclaimer, I confessed tearfully to the dreadful act. I didn’t get the paddle,\nbut I can still feel the sting of my dad’s words, “Louis, I’m surprised you’d\never do such a thing. Can you imagine how that must have hurt this young\nlady? I don’t need to remind you that you’re a Christian. I don’t think that\nis what you’ve learned at church or at home.”<\/p>\n\n
\nThen Dad put his arm around my shoulders and said, “I’m not going to tell\nyour mother about this. I think some things should be between a dad and his\nson. I’ve told Mr. Thompson he has my permission to punish you in any way\nhe sees fit.”<\/p>\n\n
\nMr. Thompson asked if I’d learned my lesson; I assured him I had! He then\n“suggested” I write an apology to Jane and never let that sort of language\ncome from me again. I did, and it didn’t.<\/p>\n\n
\nI still fear the sting of rejection. But I’ve learned it’s always wisest\nto come clean. I’m glad I learned that lesson with childhood pranks, because\nI needed it when I faced serious adult situations.<\/p>\n\n
\nOne time, I had to confess to my wife that I’d become emotionally involved\nwith a nurse during my internship. That stupidity could easily have ended\nour marriage. Only by God’s grace and Melissa’s remarkable forgiveness did\nwe survive. If I had been open to Melissa or somebody else during that time,\nthe whole thing might have been avoided.<\/p>\n\n
\nI feared that admitting the temptation and attraction would bring rejection.\nInstead Melissa said, “Louis, I’m very hurt and angry. I don’t understand\nhow you could have let that happen, but I forgive you. I’ll need time to\nrebuild trust, and I want you to know if that ever happens again, I’m gone!”<\/p>\n\n
\nI believed her. That event helped me learn to have a commitment to\naccountability.<\/p>\n\n
\nThe things I confess to Doug, I often fail at repeatedly. That becomes\nembarrassing. I feel convicted, get up the courage to confess, pledge to\nquit doing whatever it was, only to repeat the behavior. It may seem trivial\nto you, but one such problem has been speeding. I have a heavy foot, and\nout here in western Colorado, we have miles to go to get anywhere (twenty-five\nmiles to the grocery store and post office). What makes it worse is that\nthe speed limit on our winding mountain road is 30 to 50 mph.<\/p>\n\n
\nI’ve grown convinced that driving ten mph over the limit is wrong, particularly\nsince our car is known by almost everyone in the valley. They know I’m active\nin our local church and espouse a conservative position. So I make and break\nand remake my commitment to drive the speed limit. That’s embarrassing.<\/p>\n\n
\nI’ve heard confessions from hundreds of pastors who have the same struggle,\nonly in other areas: pornography, lustful thoughts, lack of spiritual discipline,\nloss of temper, emotional abuse of family members, stealing, lying, cheating\non taxes. The list goes on and can become such an embarrassment that\naccountability is lost.<\/p>\n\n
\nI’ve been blessed by the loving people in my life: my parents, Townsend Thompson,\nMelissa, Doug, and many others have shown me grace. Being accountable to\nthem has beenrelatively<\/em> easy.<\/p>\n\n \nIt’s not so easy to submit to someone angry at you. At Marble, we often work\nwith pastors who have broken faith and trust with the people in their lives.\nOne part of working through those situations is being assigned to an\n“accountability group.” I highly encourage it. Making changes in one’s life\nis hard and especially difficult if attempted in isolation.<\/p>\n\n \nThe problem, though, is that members of the accountability group—often people\nfrom the congregation or denomination—are struggling with their own feelings\nof betrayal. They are hurt and angry.<\/p>\n\n \nThe pastors I work with say the experience of an accountability group begins\nto feel like the Spanish Inquisition. Rather than receive support and gentle\nadmonition, the pastor who has sinned senses total hostility. He’s already\nfeeling guilty, and the punitive atmosphere pushes him down rather than lifts\nhim up.<\/p>\n\n \nSeveral years ago, a middle-aged pastor from a growing suburban church came\nto Marble Retreat. He had been caught in adultery and resigned his position.\nHis wife agreed to work through it with him and restore their marriage. His\ndenominational supervisor and local church board began the restoration process.\nI believe they genuinely wanted to forgive Jack and restore him to ministry,\nbut they were furious. Not only had he been involved in sexual sin, but he\nhad lied to them on several occasions.<\/p>\n\n \nThe chairman of the board had been Jack’s closest friend. They’d known each\nother for fifteen years. They golfed on Thursdays, and their families often\ntook vacations together. When Bill began to notice suspicious behavior, he\nconfronted Jack.<\/p>\n\n \nThey were riding in a golf cart together, and Jack remembered the conversation.\nBill was hesitant and almost apologetic: “Jack, I’m worried about something.\nIt may be nothing at all, but I can’t seem to get peace in my heart about\nit. I hope you won’t take this wrong. I’ve been seeing how you act around\nyour secretary. I’m uncomfortable to be there. Is anything going on between\nyou and her?”<\/p>\n\n \nJack thought, Oh, no, this could really blow up on me.<\/em><\/p>\n \nHe managed to handle it smoothly: “Don’t worry, Bill. There’s nothing going\non. I may have been a little too playful around her, but we’ve got a healthy\nwork relationship. I can see why you might have been concerned and really\nappreciate your willingness to ask. I’ll tone it down some. I know nothing\nis going to happen, but I don’t want it even to look inappropriate. Thanks.”<\/p>\n\n \nJack did intend to take that question as a serious red flag. He told his\nsecretary they had to break off their relationship. They wept and repented\ntogether and determined never to sin again. Unfortunately that lasted only\na few months. They drifted back into their adulterous behavior. This time\nthey were more careful not to raise suspicions and frequently called halts\nonly to fall again.<\/p>\n\n \nBill confronted Jack two more times before the truth came to light. The second\ntime he included their denominational executive. Still Jack rejected their\nattempts to confront him, becoming quite defensive. Before it was finally\nover, Jack had lied to several trusted men in his life, as well as his wife.\nThey had trusted and highly respected Jack. He had disappointed them with\ndisastrous consequences. Two of these men were assigned to be on Jack’s\naccountability team.<\/p>\n\n \nAt Marble Retreat, Jack told us how devastating the experience had been.\nNot only was he facing the loss of career, self-esteem, and community respect,\nbut every time the accountability group met, which was infrequently, he felt\ntheir anger all over again. They said they’d forgiven him, but Jack never\nfelt forgiven. They also directed him not to see or talk with anyone in the\nchurch, so he and his wife felt isolated. Jack and his wife found out what\nleprosy was like.<\/p>\n\n \nIn his journal, Jack wrote a moving description of his experiences. He wrote\nas if he had been in Puritan New England and pilloried for his sin. He wrote\nof the shame he felt standing in the stocks on the town square and the\nhumiliation of seeing the anger and hurt in the eyes of his children. But\nin the end, his sentence was complete; he was released to rejoin the community.\nPuritan stocks looked like a wonderful alternative to the isolation and\ninterminable castigation he was facing.<\/p>\n\n \nThe accountability process can be a healing experience. But if the group\nmembers are wounded and angry, accountability deteriorates into hostile oblivion.<\/p>\n\n \nI’m a master at self-deceit. I can employ denial, rationalization, and projection\nso fast it would set old Freud’s head shrinking. These psychological maneuvers\nare mostly unconscious. They pop up automatically when some uncomfortable\nfeeling threatens to jump out of me. I don’t like my anger or guilt or\nanxiety—these emotions just don’t fit with who I like to be (or at least\nlike to appear to be). My self-image is that I’m a gentle, open, gracious\nperson who seldom has negative feelings. So I find ways to avoid dealing\nwith them.<\/p>\n\n \nDenial is a nifty way. I am able to avoid the unattractive feelings so quickly\nthat I’m honestly fooling myself. I can say, “What, me worry?” or “I’m not\nangry!” I may be the only one who believes it, which is the real danger.<\/p>\n\n \nRationalization, however, is a conscious mechanism, so I can’t claim innocence\nin employing it. I adroitly look at my situation and justify my behavior.\nConsidering the situation logically, I convince myself that my attitudes\nor behavior are reasonable. In fact, they’re admirable. Perhaps, godly. Yes,\nthat’s it. I’m totally justified.<\/p>\n\n \nFor instance, I’ve been seeing changes come into our church fellowship. Changes\nin the congregation. Changes in the worship style. Changes in emphases. That\nhas not been easy to watch. (Here’s where the rationalization takes over.)\nMy concernis not<\/em> territorial because we were one of the founding families\nand are protective of the way things have been for twenty years. No, the\nreason for my discomfort is my deep desire to reach our mountain community.\nThe changes I see may interfere with the opportunity for outreach.<\/p>\n\n \nLet me explain more specifically about this conflict I’m facing (which will\nfit with my self-image of openness).<\/p>\n\n \nYear after year at Marble Retreat, we hear painful stories of pastors’ being\nabused by some controlling elder in their congregation. These have usually\nbeen founding members who have had major positions of responsibility. They\nbecome seen as the church boss.<\/p>\n\n \nI determined long ago never to create that kind of pressure on a staff person\ninmy<\/em> church. However, Melissa and I fit the description—the only\nremaining founding family in the church, lots of leadership roles over the\nlast eighteen years, and lots of church experience that many of our people\nhaven’t had.<\/p>\n\n \nIt has been devastating to realize that if my pastor came to Marble Retreat,\nhe’d probably be describing me in those same terms: controlling, critical,\nresistant to change, non-supportive, rejecting, and untrustworthy.<\/p>\n\n \nMy worst fear has been realized.<\/p>\n\n \nI’m going to try something hard here—that is, not use denial, rationalization,\nor projection. I want to describe the feelings I’ve had to cope with during\nthese last months, without justifying them or blaming anyone.<\/p>\n\n \nWhen our new pastor came, he was enthusiastic and eager to prove himself.\nHis stated purpose was admirable: “To grow us deeper spiritually, then let\nthat spill out into our community in outreach.” He wanted to equip the saints\nfor the work of the ministry. I certainly couldn’t disagree with that vision.<\/p>\n\n \nI must confess, however, that with my perception of our church having done\nthat for fourteen years, I felt defensive. Rather than joining in his enthusiasm,\nI questioned whether our investment and level of spiritual maturity was being\ndepreciated or denied. Changes that were suggested or traditions that seemed\ndevalued loomed as personal attacks.<\/p>\n\n \nI knew my emotional response was exaggerated or unfounded. Yet there it was.\nI began to resist and resent many of the new directions the church was headed.\nThe hard part was the clergy who came limping into Marble Retreat, reminders\nof how elders like me could inflict great harm—even destroy a pastor and\ncongregation!<\/p>\n\n \nThat’s when my accountability group stepped in. They held up a mirror for\nme to see how unlike my self-image I was being. I can easily say this whole\nexperience has been one of the most difficult of my life. The great peacemaker\nwas contributing great distress. The gentle, gracious lover was adding to\nan atmosphere of non-acceptance.<\/p>\n\n \nFortunately, I can now report, several weeks after I started writing this\narticle, that some real healing has begun. After my accountability group\ngot my attention, I had some long, painful talks with the Lord. I was reminded\nof God’s grace toward me. I had to deal with the speck in my eye, which turned\nout to be a two-by-four.<\/p>\n\n \nI felt convicted that I needed to let the whole church know I’d been creating\nsome difficult pressure for our pastor and ask their forgiveness. I have\nalready asked for and received this.<\/p>\n\n \nThat confession provided a forum for our pastor to express the pain and\nresistance he has faced. The current climate, after a couple of tense weeks,\nis much more Christian. Just in time for Easter, there was resurrection and\nrenewal. Our accountability circle has expanded considerably, and I believe\nin the end there will be new levels of love and trust. We’re not totally\nout of the woods, but it sure feels better to be re-focused on the Lord rather\nthan on myself.<\/p>\n\n \nAnd I rediscovered that accountability works.<\/p>\n Louis McBurney is a psychiatrist and founder of Marble Retreat in Marble,\nColorado.<\/p>\n\n \n 1996 by Christianity Today\/LEADERSHIP journal<\/p>\nI don’t like facing my negative feelings<\/h2>
Speck-and-log removal<\/h2>