

Just Out for a Walk:

Pastoral Leadership in the Change-Resistant Church

by Henry Styron

Copyright 2010 Henry Styron

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Just Out for a Walk:

Pastoral Leadership in the Change-Resistant Church

Introduction

Part One: The Change-Resistant Church

Chapter 1: The Satisfied Church: Looking for a Chaplain

Chapter 2: The Short-Sighted Church: Looking for a Tour Guide

Chapter 3: The Lazy Church: Looking for a Hired Hand

Chapter 4: The Conflicted Church: Looking for a Friendly Referee

Chapter 5: The Dying Church: Looking for Hospice Care

Part Two: The Frustrated Pastor

Chapter 6: Overdosed on Church Growth

Chapter 7: I Want My Patience Now

Chapter 8: They Just Don't Understand

Chapter 9: Failure Is Not an Option

Chapter 10: The Book of Hesitations

Part Three: Encouragement and Guidance

Chapter 11: Back to the Basics

Chapter 12: What Not to Do

Chapter 13: Beginning Anew

Chapter 14: Moving Your Church to Change—Part 1

Chapter 15: Moving Your Church to Change—Part 2

Chapter 16: When All Else Fails

Afterword

INTRODUCTION

What do you call a leader with no followers? Someone who's just out for a walk. Most of us in the ministry, particularly the pastorate, like to think of ourselves as leaders, and the job description and jargon tend to bear that out. We are to "lead the congregation in outreach, fellowship, evangelism and ministry." We are the "spiritual leaders" of the church. We are the shepherds tending the flock. We lead in worship, lead in prayer, often preside at business meetings and are usually the ones shouting for attention and blessing the meal to get the potluck supper started.

All well and good, until the pastor tries to lead someplace the church doesn't want to go. Maybe he has an idea for a new outreach emphasis, or maybe he thinks it'd be wise to reorganize the Sunday School, or maybe he came to this church passionate about a particular ministry and he'd like to get the church involved with it. Maybe he's got some grand dream in his head—building, relocating, starting a mission church, starting a seeker service, becoming a missionary-sending church, adopting an unreached people group. The problem happens when his dreams for his church come into conflict with the desires and goals of the members of the church, and all of a sudden the leader glances back over his shoulder, and nobody's following. He's just out for a walk.

How many Baptists does it take to change a lightbulb? I really should confess that a Methodist pastor originally told me this joke, and Methodists were featured, but I swipe it for my own denomination when I retell it. I imagine it'll work for a lot of different traditions. The answer, of course, is "Change? What do you mean, change?!?! My GRANDMOTHER gave that lightbulb to the church!"

Some background about my own experience is perhaps in order. In my varied and distinguished career I've been a nightwatchman, parking valet, carpenter, glazier, bottled-water deliveryman, minister of education, and supermarket bagger. I've never been particularly good at any of them, although with all due modesty I was a better than average bagger. At this writing I'm an associate pastor, but I served as a pastor for a little over twelve years, in two different smaller congregations, both traditional in worship format, both very long-established churches in the Baptist faith. Most of my friends and colleagues in the ministry have served in similar churches, and in lunch meetings, associational work, and occasional frustrated phone calls and emails I've heard a lot about the change-resistant church. Most of what you read in this book does not come from any one specific church, and I'd like to report that overall I've had a very pleasant time with my own churches. I could, of course, tell you a few stories from personal experience, but my church members could tell you a few stories about me, too, so perhaps we'll keep it all anonymous.

I'll go ahead and stick my disclaimers in here. Names of all pastors, church members, and churches have been changed. Many stories are composites, although none are wholly fictitious. In the interests of making the point briefly, many churches have been portrayed as homogeneous in character; that is, all the members of the satisfied church are satisfied, and so on. In real life you get tend to get more of a mixture of types in most churches, although congregations do develop individual character over time. The opinions expressed in this book do not necessarily reflect those of the author. Oh, wait, I suppose they would have to, wouldn't they?

I'm aware that not all churches are change resistant. There are the innovators, the storefront churches, the plants and the new works, the mega-churches-to-be. They have their own challenges and difficulties, and I can't speak to them. I never hung out with the innovative-church-pastors-in-training in seminary. They were always the cool crowd, and the only time they'd deign to notice me was when they'd gang up on me outside of chapel and steal my offering money.

There are an awful lot of resistant churches out there, though, and a lot of visionary pastors in frustrating ministries. We go into a new church situation hoping, consciously or unconsciously, that we're going to make a difference. We've got a fresh perspective, fresh ideas, we keep up on the conferences and the strategies for growth, and we can see just where this church could do something exciting. They're good people, they love the Lord, they want to do good work for Him, and they're just waiting for someone to come in with the energy, the dedication, and the vision to lead them forward. Maybe our dreams are modest, maybe our dreams are grandiose, but we all imagine something within the bounds of what could possibly be. We look at a church not for what it is, but for what, Lord willing, our efforts and the cooperation of the church members could make it become. If you're reading this book, it's likely that your dreams in the ministry have been frustrated, thwarted, maybe even irrevocably dashed, as the cold water of "we've never done that before" floods over your own passion and drive.

I can offer no miracle solutions, but maybe I have for you a bit of encouragement, some guidance amidst frustration, a chuckle of recognition or two, and perhaps even a little bit of hope restored. If you're sitting in your study trying to work up your enthusiasm for yet another laborious Sunday that you know isn't going to change a thing, this book is for you. Let's take comfort together.

PART ONE: THE CHANGE-RESISTANT CHURCH

I personally know two hundred and seventy-six ministers, give or take a few hundred, who are now serving or have served change-resistant churches. I have never known one of them to say "Boy, I am so glad I'm in a church where it's difficult to make any real changes." Some of them are staying and soldiering on, trying to make a difference. Some have contented themselves with the modest changes they are able to make, and have set their sights rather lower. A few have stayed and all but given up, resigning themselves to the maintenance ministry situation. A regrettable number left for greener pastures as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Tragically, I know of more than a few who have tried to make changes in ways uncongenial to the power structure and have found themselves harassed or even terminated. A large number plugged away for a respectable length of time, and then left for, hopefully, more fruitful fields.

In this section we'll look at five broad types of the change-resistant church, and what they are looking for in a pastor (and it's not a visionary leader). Most churches are rather more mixed than the five types indicate, but the categories do serve to describe the general character of the majority of the churches I've known about. It's my hope that, if you find your church to be difficult to change, you'll recognize aspects of it here.

Chapter 1: The Satisfied Church: Looking for a Chaplain

Wilson Baptist is a healthy church by many accounts. A good day in Sunday attendance is about 130 people, mostly middle-aged and up with several younger couples who are related to other families in the church. There are quite a lot of children present, with many of them usually brought by their grandparents, as their parents don't really "do church." Most of the administration of the church is taken care of by Lorrie Stewart, who's been the part-time secretary for 23 years, and who calls the right people in the church whenever something needs tending to.

Giving at Wilson is rarely a problem, and the annual stewardship emphasis is pretty much a pleasant formality. They never have any trouble meeting the budget, and, when the old building needed a new roof a few years back, a few of the well-off families in the congregation informally got together and gave several thousand dollars towards the building and grounds fund without any kind of public appeal having to be made. Missions giving is quite vigorous, with Wilson often leading its association in per capita gifts to Lottie Moon and Annie Armstrong.

The church members get along great. They have dinner on the grounds following Sunday services at least once a month when the weather is good, and there is much talking and joking during these times. Members miss one another when they're not there on Sundays; when Stella Banks didn't show up one morning and didn't answer her phone, a couple of her Sunday School classmates went over to her house to check on her. As it turns out, she'd only stayed in bed with a cold and hadn't put her hearing aid in yet, but now she calls someone if she's not going to be there. The men of the church will go fishing or golfing together, and will get together often to do home maintenance for the widows of the church and community.

Wilson has had a number of pastors, most of whom didn't stay more than a few years. A notable exception was Rev. Alvin Mitchell, a semi-retired pastor of a large church who was looking for a church where he could just preach and take care of the people. He and Wilson Baptist got along like a house afire. He was with the church for sixteen years, serving until just a few years before his death. He spent the lion's share of his time calling on church members in their homes and making hospital and nursing home visits, and the church loved him for it. They still talk about him, some fifteen years after his death, as one of the best pastors they ever had. The church doesn't expect much of its pastors—if a pastor will come in, deliver competent sermons, perform weddings and funerals, and visit the sick and homebound, Wilson church members will embrace him and his family and do their level best to make them feel welcome and comfortable. A number of pastors have had very pleasant experiences at Wilson Baptist.

The only real difficulties pastors have ever had at Wilson Baptist Church were those they had brought on themselves. The pattern usually went like this: a minister would come in, and spend the first several months getting settled and getting to know the people. He would then, in the process of getting to know the community, realize that there were a lot of unchurched people in Wilson Baptist's near vicinity, and would want to do some kind of outreach and evangelism—after all, Wilson's sanctuary could hold seventy more people than even their "good days" produced. He would try to interest the church in some sort of outreach emphasis. The church members would smile tolerantly —they'd seen all this before—and would gently try to educate their new and no doubt a bit naïve minister that "those folks just don't seem to be interested in coming." If the pastor took the hint, well and good. If not, and he persisted, he'd just run up against a church that was willing to humor him, and certainly thought the world of him, but that simply didn't see that there was any real benefit to be gained from outreach.

And, should the pastor suggest changing something to make the church more "attractive" to outsiders, he ran up against the Wilson Patented Passive Resistance. They admired the pastor's zeal and commitment, but they liked things the way they were, and no doubt this pastor would settle down or he would eventually, like so many others, just move on. The church was used to it.

The Pastor and the Satisfied Church

Wilson Baptist, and many others just like it, fall into the category of the satisfied church, and indeed there is much they can be satisfied about. Their facilities are usually attractive, well cared for, and frequently picturesque. They tend to be long-established, with deep roots in the community, and most of the neighbors speak of them respectfully. Money is no problem, and they can point with justified pride to their missions giving and their many service projects for their own people and in the community. They derive considerable comfort from the close bonds and loving fellowship of their own congregation, and they treat their pastors very well, often paying quite generously for a church their size, and giving frequent gifts of food and tokens of appreciation to their pastor and his family. Many pastors and their families have had delightful times at Wilson Baptist and its sister churches.

The great problem with Wilson Baptist's people, and the reason they frustrate visionary pastors, is that they are perfectly happy with how things are. In a word, they are comfortable. They have completely lost any sense of mission, or any desire to evangelize the lost, or any passion whatsoever. To use the old joke, they have gone from standing on the promises to sitting on the premises.

Wilson Baptist's church members are well-meaning people with many admirable qualities, but they need to be awakened to the real, spiritual needs around them, and they need to be awakened to their own purpose. In 2 Timothy 1:6, Paul encourages Timothy that he ought to "fan into flame" the spiritual gifts which God has given him for the work of the gospel. The satisfied church needs to be stirred up, to be encouraged to use the gifts God has given them, to remember the reason that God has called them together, to be the body of Christ.

The satisfied church, though, is just that: satisfied. They don't want to be stirred up, they don't want to be disturbed. Frankly, they're quite happy as they are, and the last thing they want is a minister who tries to come in and shake things up. They have, as a church body, fallen prey to the sin of complacency. They have made a god out of their comfort zone, and they have, as the scripture says, a form of godliness, but they deny its power.

The satisfied church is looking for a chaplain. Now, I've known a number of military, prison, and hospital chaplains, and I say this with no disrespect intended to the chaplaincy. The popular perception, though, is that a chaplain is someone who takes care of my spiritual and emotional needs, and that's exactly what the satisfied church wants from their pastor. If he comes in, preaches soothing, entertaining, and encouraging sermons (it's okay if he talks about sin and repentance every once in awhile; he's not really talking about us), presides at the fellowship meals, is friendly and speaks to people, visits them in the hospital, takes care of the widows and shut-ins, and performs the necessary funerals and weddings, then he's doing everything the church expects him to, and the church will take care of him in return.

If a pastor is content in such a church, well and good, and I believe that many of these peaceful churches are used by God to serve as places of healing for ministers who've had traumatic experiences, or they serve as places of training for young ministers who need to get a few years of maturing in actual pastoral work before taking on something challenging. However, when a pastor goes into a satisfied church with dreams and goals about what this church could be, then's he's pretty well doomed to frustration, unless by some miracle God should turn the church around. And, a note of statistical caution; your sixteen predecessors came into the church thinking they were going to enflame it with a passion for outreach, and they appear to have been wrong. The chances aren't necessarily all that hot that you, number 17, are going to be any different. Sorry.

Chapter 2: The Short-sighted Church: Looking for a Tour Guide

First Church of Kenneville, a county-seat church in a small main street community, has a traditional worship style and a very formal order of service. The young volunteer music director has introduced a few praise choruses from time to time, which the older folks tolerate but don't much care for. They run about 90 in worship during the school year, although the "summertime slump" means a good day in July is about 60 people. Their heyday was back in the 1950s and 60s, when attendance on occasion would reach as high as 150 people. First Kenneville isn't in any real trouble, and there's no conflict to speak of, but folks could be happier about a few things.

Money is sometimes a little tight, and they on occasion have "meet the budget" pledge drives. They had a part-time youth director a few years back, but haven't gotten another one since the young man graduated college and moved away – they didn't think the results they saw from his work justified the expense (or occasional annoyance) of having him. And, in truth, while he could drum up a pretty fair crowd of kids for bowling or the movies, youth Sunday School or worship attendance didn't really pick up all that much during his tenure. Kenneville has a few young families attending, but they often have a lot of trouble finding people to work the nursery or teach Sunday School.

First Kenneville would like to grow in attendance a little bit. They've got more empty pews in their sanctuary than they're comfortable with, and it would be great for them to have some help meeting the budget and taking care of the children in nursery and Sunday School. Not to mention they'd like a few more voices in the choir, and Liz Marrero is getting tired of being the VBS director every year.

Furthermore, Kenneville has very specific ideas about who they would like to grow their church with. Earl and Janie Chadwick are pillars of the church, but neither of their two sons or their families attend anymore, and it would be great to get them back . Cecily Chadwick in particular has a beautiful voice and works well with kids. Myron and Wanda James, a local realtor and his wife, have visited before, but don't regularly go to church anywhere. It's thought that they could be very good givers if they could be persuaded to become church members, Wanda is a wonderful organizer with time on her hands, and Myron's business sense would be very helpful on the stewardship committee. The Irmans' grown son Matt has been in and out of trouble since graduating high school, and it's generally felt that if he could be gotten back into church it would help him get straightened out. The pastor of the church wasn't on the field long before several concerned people let him know about the Chadwick families, the Jameses, and Matt Irman, to see if he might do a little visiting and try to persuade these people to come back to First Kenneville, and get involved.

The members of First Kenneville have a love for their church, and a vision for it. They want to return to the church's glory days, and see the sanctuary comfortably full of happy people, with all the members of their extended families sitting in their accustomed places. The middle-aged and younger people of the church would rotate in the nursery and would teach the children in Sunday School, and would work with the youth and the summertime Vacation Bible School crowd. The faithful attendance and giving of all the people who ought to be in church would make the money worries a thing of the past. They're very clear about what they think is best for the church, and their committee meetings, church council discussions, and conversations with the pastor are dominated by the idea of "getting a few more folks to come."

First Kenneville tends to keep its pastors awhile, with the average tenure being eight years, and the current pastor having been here five. It's a nice community, and they pay fairly well and aren't particularly demanding. They do get a little frustrated from time to time with their pastor's seeming inability to increase the attendance, but they understand he's doing his best. They were a little discomfited when he started the idea of evangelism training in his second year at the church. The idea of witnessing outside the church was foreign to them – you attracted people to church, and presented the gospel to them there, they made decisions for Christ, joined, and supported the work of the church. That was how things went at First Kenneville. The idea, and one the pastor would eventually have to see, was to somehow attract people to come and keep coming.

The Pastor and the Short-Sighted Church

No one can accuse First Church of Kenneville, and other churches much like it, from not having a vision, nor can they be accused of being overly ambitious. They know exactly what they want for their church, and it really doesn't seem unreasonable. They want to be a little bigger and a little stronger, with enough people to pay the bills and staff the programs. Further, their vision is specific to the point that they know pretty much exactly who they'd like to see coming—usually church members (especially members of their own families) who are no longer attending, or some family in the local community who is known to have assets or talents that would be of benefit to the church.

First Kenneville, to put it plainly, is a short-sighted church, and they have a very skewed view of leadership. In the game of follow-the-leader, the children playing the followers have no idea where they're going to wind up – that's the job of the leader to decide. The short-sighted church knows exactly where it hopes to wind up, and it expects its pastor to be about the business of getting it there. In point of fact, the church does not desire so much a leader as a tour guide. It's not necessarily a bad thing – a tour guide's bread and butter is figuring out where his clients want to go and what they want to see, and then using his expertise to take them on the trip. If the church has a worthy goal, and one that is achievable, and is consistent with God's will, then a pastor could do far worse than listen to what the church wants to accomplish and try to help them get there.

The difficulty arises, and arise it often does, when what the short-sighted church members want for themselves is not the goal God has for them. First Kenneville is guilty of a lack of faith, and of having fallen into the "maintenance ministry" trap. They don't want change exactly—they just want a little better attendance so they can keep the machinery going, and they have lost sight of God's purpose for them. They have made a god out of the institution of the church, and the be-all and the end-all of existence is the goal, not bad in and of itself, of keeping the church going.

Hopefully a pastor will come into a church with a greater vision. He holds to the hope of Revelation 3:8, in which God promises the church of Philadelphia an open door which no one can shut, and he believes that God has an opportunity for this church to accomplish something of eternal significance. It may not be flashy or spectacular in the eyes of the world, but the church exists to make disciples, to be the instrument by which men, women, and children are won to Christ, and it has work to do. When the praying, visionary pastor comes into the short-sighted church, he may truly (and perhaps rightly) feel that the church needs to begin active evangelism in a nearby neighborhood, or needs to begin a "Mom's Morning Out" program, or needs to hold a few "seeker events" at the church, or any of a number of possibilities. When he tries to interest the church in these activities (let's assume for discussion that the pastor is paying attention to the Spirit and these are things the church truly ought to be doing) he is met with resistance, because these things, well-intentioned as the church may admit them to be, aren't stops along the desired tour. This will cost money—how will this help us with the budget? Will this help enough with attendance to be worth the trouble? Have you been to see the Chadwicks?

The really disheartening thing for a pastor in the short-sighted church is that the church's goals, while superficially modest, often aren't reachable. Many churches spend a lot of effort (and a lot of their pastor's time) trying to reach and reinspire "inactive" members, usually with very little success. People fall away for various reasons, but, unless the reasons are addressed, they don't tend to come back. This is not to say it doesn't happen, and certainly not to say that it can't, but if a church is not seeking God's will for them, He's not likely to bless their disobedience. In such a situation, the church will wind up frustrating the pastor, and the pastor will wind up frustrating the church, although they'll often be civil and even affectionate, concealing their mutual discomfort and never really talking about their differences in visions for the church.

Chapter 3: The Lazy Church: Looking for a Hired Hand

Zion Church doesn't keep its pastors for very long. It was planted 63 years ago by Second Baptist of Haversham, and has had 14 pastors since its inception (and the founding pastor stayed eleven years, which brings the average tenure even lower.) They currently run about forty-five to sixty in worship attendance, depending on the time of the year, although their Sunday School attendance rarely hits thirty-five people—one nursery/preschool class, (taught by Miss Minnie Hanks and Mrs. Mary Sotheby, the "M&M" ladies), one children's and youth class (taught by the pastor's wife, Ann), and one adult class (taught by the pastor, Mitch Foster). They don't always hold Sunday School in the summer, and they aren't always able to have a nursery for worship. They have six regulars in the choir, which meets on Wednesday nights, and is directed by Ann Foster, who also plays piano. Mitch has a small prayer meeting before choir, and usually has about a dozen people.

It's a matter of pride for the church that they have a full-time pastor, who is able to devote all of his time to the work of the church. They can't afford to pay a big salary, but they're often able to attract someone, like Mitch, who is just out of seminary and looking for experience, and they do have a modest parsonage. Mitch, like his predecessors, is expected to keep the church yard mowed and raked, and do routine custodial work in the church, but, since neither the church nor the grounds are large, this isn't difficult. The perception is that since he has to mow his own grass anyway, it's not much more work to just tackle the little bit of grass around the church building, and it doesn't take too long to empty the trashcans and it saves someone else from having to make a special trip. Besides, he's young and fit and doesn't seem to mind.

The work of the church is not particularly taxing. The congregation is not demanding regarding the sermons, and quite appreciates the effort Mitch puts into them. They do encourage him to visit when he has the opportunity, and they'll bring to his attention any new residents in the community, as well as any church members in the hospital or home with illness. Naturally, he is expected to make pastoral care and outreach a large part of his duties, as this is what the church pays him for.

To be fair, Mitch hasn't experienced any real resistance to his leadership, because he hasn't had the opportunity or the inclination to exercise any. He's still quite young and unsure of himself, and he's hesitant to bring up anything that might go the wrong way. He did try once to have a long-range planning meeting, but only two other people showed up, and little got done other than putting the dates for the Christmas program on the calendar. He also tried to get the church's two deacons, Jim Sotheby and Billy Forbis, to go visiting with him, with limited success. The Tuesday night Jim, who was shy in front of strangers, went with him, he sat in uncomfortable silence and let Mitch do all the talking. The next week Billy, who wasn't shy, monopolized the visitation time talking about sports and local politics. Mitch hasn't invited either of them to go with him again, and they haven't seemed to be disturbed by this.

Mitch doesn't have a real idea of how to proceed with leading the church. He's heard several stories of how difficult it is for the church to function without a pastor (which happens every few years), how much work everybody has to do, and how happy they are to have someone there to take care of things. Mitch gets lots of compliments, which he likes, and everybody seems to thoroughly enjoy him and his wife and baby daughter. He has the sense that nobody expects all that much of him, other than the visiting and the maintenance work, but he's also gotten the very clear sense, not in so many words but more as a pervasive attitude, that the church members don't really think he should expect anything of them.

Mitch is at a bit of a loss. Seminary training had led him to hope for a vibrant, eager church ready to try bold missions projects and evangelistic ventures. He hadn't formed more than the vaguest of ideas of what one did with such a church, but he'd assumed that with his ministerial calling and his seminary degree the solutions would be obvious once he got on the field; he would just naturally direct and guide the energies of the church to accomplish great things. He doesn't know what to do with Zion. He likes to be liked, but he instinctively knows that his popularity will vanish in a hurry if he tries to prod the church members to any kind of activity. The rumor mill has already brought the news to his ears that not everybody's happy he made poor shy Jim Sotheby go visiting with him, and he's hoping that dies down without too much fuss.

The Pastor and the Lazy Church

Thankfully you don't run across too many Zion churches, but they're out there. If the Lord had used churches in his parable of the servants and the talents, Zion would be the one that buried its talent in the field. Zion is a lazy church, and it's not interested in getting much of anything done. Fortunately, although you'll find lazy Christians in pretty nearly all churches, they're usually compensated for by at least a few people who are willing and able to get something done. Thus you'll frequently find churches where a handful of people are doing the majority of the work, but at least it doesn't all land on the pastor (and his often taken-for-granted spouse).

Make no mistake, though, Zion Church is not imaginary. I didn't make it up, and in fact it's less of a composite than some other churches in this book simply because of its rarity, but it exists, and there are pastors that wind up in churches like this. I could give you names of a few of them.

The lazy church has no concept whatsoever of pastoral leadership, and they really don't have much of an idea of what it means to be a church. They've gotten the idea that a church has Sunday services, it visits the lost and the sick, and it takes care of its property. None of the church members are really interested in doing any of these things, so they hire a pastor to (and here's the point) do the work of the church.

The members of the lazy church have a false view of themselves—they don't really see themselves as part of the church, responsible to accomplish its work. They see themselves instead as spectators of the pastor's church work, in the same way they might see themselves as patrons of a baseball stadium. They go, they pay, they are entertained, they are encouraged by the fact that work is getting done, and they go home. Realistically they know that the pastor can't do everything, but they expect as much out of him as humanly possible, they expect his wife to do much more than her fair share (almost invariably unpaid), and they volunteer for as little as they can get away with.

Zion and the churches like it don't often get strong leaders in the first place. The lazy church tends to attract pastors who are either inexperienced and don't yet know any better or who are, for some reason, so much in need of a pulpit that they'll take anything. The lazy church doesn't tend to be subtle about its assumptions or expectations, and most pastors of any discernment at all will have alarm bells going off all over the place. The real trouble comes when a pastor hasn't asked enough questions, and then arrives on the field to find that he's preacher, teacher, visit-maker, bulletin coordinator, plumber, custodian, chief cook and bottle washer, with his wife filling in everywhere else.

However, even if a man wasn't a visionary pastor when he arrived on the field, devout prayer and study, combined with getting to know the needs and possibilities of the church and community, will often bring dreams of what could be, and then the friction starts. It's extremely difficult even trying to be a visionary leader in a lazy church. The members of the church don't meet the idea of change with resistance; they meet it with bewilderment. The idea that they should be expected to do outreach, or teaching, or ministry, seems completely foreign to them. The idea that the pastor should want to change anything is both disturbing and insulting. They hired him, they pay him, and they expect him to do his job. And his job involves keeping the work of the church going, not trying to get the church members to do his work for him.

The lazy church doesn't usually keep its pastor very long. Most pastors don't mind the work so much (and, in fact, a little manual labor can be an enjoyable change from the study and paperwork that consume much of their time), but they have the idea that this is not what the church is to be about. Humble as the pastor may be, he has a higher view of his office than being just the hired hand, and it doesn't take long before even the youngest, greenest pastor fresh out of seminary realizes that there has to be more to the ministry than this.

Chapter 4: The Conflicted Church: Looking for a Friendly Referee

Baxter Park Church is a 78 year old church located in a middle class suburb of Mason City. They average about 200 in morning worship, 160 in Sunday School, and are well known for their lavish and spectacular Easter and Christmas programs, where attendance routinely tops 250 for multiple performances. They have a tradition of strong pulpiteers as pastors, and visitors are often impressed by their sparkling facilities, the beauty of their sanctuary, their courteous and efficient ushers and greeters, and the top-notch choral anthems and solos led by an extremely enthusiastic choir director.

To a person who only attends Baxter Park on Sunday mornings, it seems like almost the ideal church. The current pastor, Dr. Thomas Kriegholdt, is a dynamic speaker, and very friendly in the "receiving line" leaving the church on Sunday morning. He's been there eight years, and newcomers will only hear rumors about his predecessor, Harry Mayes, who resigned very abruptly after having been the pastor less than two years, or the pastor before him, Don McAdams, who was relieved of his duties in an ugly business meeting after having served as pastor for five years. When McAdams was fired, six active families left the church with him, although three have come back. Tom Kriegholdt puts a good face on it for Sunday mornings, but the secret of his survival is that he has virtually abdicated the leadership of his church, attends deacon and committee meetings only when he absolutely has to, and then never voices an opinion on anything

Baxter Park Church does not get along other than superficially. The adult Sunday School classes are not age graded, but instead have separated along faction lines in the church. There are a handful of very influential people in the congregation, and they don't much like each other, with family members and friends tending to divide up into separate camps. They generally exist in a stage of uneasy truce, and have informal areas of authority, in which the lines are not crossed. Sharon Percheron has carved out for herself the music program of the church, in which she takes great pride and spends a great deal of effort making sure everything is done just so. Michelle Johnson, a talented musician in her own right, does not agree with Sharon's desires for the program but lacks the support group to challenge her, so she contents herself with making snide comments every chance she gets, and Michelle runs the Vacation Bible School to suit herself and has done so for years. Orrin Vance exercises absolute authority over the building and grounds committee, and no special event happens in the church building without his prior approval. Marty Cobb, the Sunday School director, who frequently changes the organization around to meet some perceived need, has twice in the past ten years argued loudly and publically with Orrin over his own authority to schedule Sunday School events in the building.

It goes on. Rev. McAdams had been at the church less than three years when he backed Michelle Johnson, unsuccessfully, in her attempt to make some changes in the music program. Sharon Percheron never forgot or forgave the insult, and began a campaign which culminated two years later in McAdams' dismissal. Harry Mayes didn't have his eyes open when he began his pastorate, was horrified to discover the hornets' nest he had landed in, and took the first opportunity that came his way to leave the mess behind.

Pastor Kriegholdt hadn't been at the church long when the various factions began jockeying for his support. In all sincerity he began making some overtures towards conflict resolution in the church, but it quickly became apparent that such a course would only lead to his own eventual ouster. Tom doesn't want to move—his kids like their school and they have friends here, his wife likes her job, and they like the community and are reasonably close to their families. Tom figures he's been in survival mode for about six years, and tries to keep everybody as happy as reasonably possible. He dreads committee and deacon meetings, and is afraid of business meetings, but so far, so good. He makes himself as inoffensive as possible, and it has been some time since he voiced a strong opinion about anything related to the administration of the church.

Tom feels guilty at his inability to make a difference, but reasons that his presence at Baxter Park is saving some other poor unsuspecting brother in the ministry from having to be there. He finds comfort in ministerial meetings, and enjoys his work with the local and state associations—anything to get out of the church for awhile. Dr. Kriegholdt has his resumé together, of course, and has chatted with a few contacts here and there—there's no telling when the situation at Baxter Park will go sour in a hurry, and he doesn't want to be caught unprepared. He spends a lot of his time listening to the grapevine, trying to spot the eruption of the simmering détente into full-out conflict well before it should happen.

The Pastor and the Conflicted Church

Baxter Park, and a sadly substantial number of churches like it, are conflicted churches, and pastoral ministry in them is almost invariably marked by great stress and discomfort. Most churches have at least a couple of members who have some differences of opinion regarding administration or theology, but they are usually not sufficient to cause any real disruption in the congregation. In the conflicted church, on the other hand, the differences have grown over time to where they dominate the life of the church.

It's probably useful at this point to differentiate the façade and body life aspects of the church. The conflicted church often has a bit of a split personality feel to it, with visitors and casual attenders perceiving it as a good, friendly, and strong church, and only the people who work in the organization and "behind the scenes" being really aware of the hard feelings and strife just below the surface. Partly this is because people who aren't getting along avoid each other as much as possible, and partly it's because everyone tends to be on good behavior on Sunday mornings, at least being civil and polite to one another out of respect for the look of things. Usually by the time the Sunday morning crowd becomes really aware of problems, things have gotten very bad indeed.

Of course, I could tell you about one church member, thankfully not in a church where I pastored, who really didn't care what anyone thought and brought the conflict out in Sunday School classes, in the parking lot after church, and wherever else he could get a hearing. At that church, at least, there was no split personality, because this fellow's actions made it clear to everyone within earshot that this was a conflicted church.

The conflicted church is truly the place where the inmates have taken over the asylum. It's very difficult to be the final judge in such matters, but I've known of churches, and if you're reading this you probably have, too, where there are many influential and powerful lay leaders who bear little evidence of Christlikeness in their lives, and who may not even be saved in the first place. It's not a happy place to be.

Pastoral leadership is virtually impossible in the conflicted church. In a good-sized church, as Baxter Park is, it's often possible to have smaller groups do special emphases, missions, and projects, and there are pastors in conflicted situations who spend their time and energy, often very profitably, working with the people in the church that can be worked with. I know a few ministers that I have great admiration for who spend, for instance, a great deal of their time working with one Sunday School class on outreach. It doesn't, however, address the real needs of the church. It becomes apparent to the pastor very quickly in such a situation that one of the first things that needs to happen for real healing and spiritual growth to occur is for a couple of ungodly individuals to be removed from their positions of power and influence and be subjected to correction and instruction. I probably don't need to tell you what tends to happen to the pastors who try to have stubborn lay leaders removed from their hard-won offices, but it involves having your resumé up to date.

In order for real pastoral leadership to occur, the whole church has to be capable, in theory at least, of going in the same direction. In the conflicted church, it's not going to happen. Marty Cobb is going to be against, as a matter of principle, just about anything that Orrin Vance is for, and vice versa. Marty's not looking for a pastoral leader. He already has a very clear idea of what the church needs, and that's for Orrin to be voted unceremoniously out of his office, and to have made clear to him and everyone else what a stubborn rascal he is. Marty is looking for a pastor who's going to take his side. Unfortunately, so is Orrin.

The conflicted church is looking for a friendly referee. A church that knows itself to be in unhealthy conflict will often seek out a peace-making pastor, someone who can lead the church to reconciliation. Such a church, while a very difficult place to serve, is not change-resistant, and a wise and mature pastor can often do great work in such a field. The concept of the friendly referee, though, is that each faction wants a pastor who's just a little bit "fairer" to them than to the other guy. The different factions are hardened in their stances, and they desire a pastor who's going to come in and straighten "those people" out. In Philippians 4:2, Paul pleads with Euodia and Syntyche, two women causing conflict in the Philippian church, to come to agreement in the Lord. In the conflicted church, neither side (or even none of the many sides) will admit to being in the wrong, and agreement is not likely to happen.

Chapter 5: The Dying Church: Looking for Hospice Care

Davis Memorial Baptist Church has a hard time getting and keeping qualified pastors, and they're not under any illusions as to why. They're a very small fellowship, with about 20 regulars meeting in a shabby church building that could still hold four times the current congregation. The youngest regular, Wanda Peyton, is a widow in her early 60s, whose grown children and grandchildren attend other churches. Wanda plays the piano for services and usually does minor custodial work around the place. Her son Andy, who used to attend and is still quite friendly to Davis and its pastors, keeps the grass cut and helps out with the plumbing and general maintenance whenever the membership needs a younger back.

Wanda's parents, Bill and Frieda Calloway, are active in the church, at least insofar as their health allows. It's never discussed, but everyone knows that Wanda will start attending church with her children when her parents die. The church has a men's class, taught by 74-year-old Malcolm Gilkey, which meets in the combination parlor/library/fellowship hall. Malcolm is also the chairman of deacons, the chair of the trustees, usually the chair of the pastor search committee, and is generally regarded as the leader of the church, whoever the current pastor happens to be. The women's class, taught by Sarah Messick, meets in the old choir room.

The church is located in what was once a thriving community near the center of a metropolitan area, but the construction of the highway several miles to the east 30 years ago lured a lot of the businesses and property values away, and the neighborhood surrounding Davis Memorial now looks a bit rundown. Petty theft and vandalism have been minor problems, and several years ago the church had to put bars on its windows. It was never a large church, and the membership doesn't have the money to have the building repainted or the roof replaced.

There is no optimism about the church's future, but there is often a surprisingly cheerful acceptance of the status quo. The members of Davis Church don't believe they can realistically do any outreach to the community, and, given the difference in ethnicity, age, and socioeconomics, they may have a point. Seven years ago Pastor Jack Dixon got them started doing a Vacation Bible School for the kids in the neighborhood, and they had a lot of fun with it. Jack, his wife Bonnie, and Wanda Peyton did most of the work, of course, but Malcolm Gilkey's wife Carol coordinated the refreshments and Sarah Messick drafted her daughter Pam from her church, and they did the crafts. After Pastor Jack left they were without a pastor for two summers, and VBS sort of fell by the wayside, but the members enjoy talking about it still.

Malcolm Gilkey is usually the one who has the first contact with prospective pastors, and he was quite straightforward talking to Bart Eades, a science teacher in the local high school who'd expressed an interest in serving as pastor. Malcolm told Bart that Davis Memorial was a dying church, and he didn't know how many more years it'd be meeting. They couldn't pay much, but they'd be happy to talk to him about it. Eades was in his early forties, and had often felt that he should have gone into the ministry as a young man, and he was looking for a way to try it now, and still keep his teaching job. Bart knew he wasn't much of a preacher, but he conscientiously put in hours preparing a trial sermon, and the Davis Memorial church voted unanimously to call him as pastor.

As pastor, Bart wanted to do something with church growth and outreach. He subscribed to a couple of professional magazines to try to make up for his lack of formal ministerial training, and he was encouraged to read the stories of small, even tiny, churches that had implemented certain plans and programs and had experienced substantial growth. Bart was pretty levelheaded, but he had occasional daydreams of what he would call the "Davis Memorial Miracle," with the fortunes of the dying church turning around, and recognition given to it (and, of course, its pastor, Rev. Eades) in the local association and even at the state level. Usually when he caught the grand vision becoming ridiculous Bart would just grin at himself and get on with his work, but it remained an enjoyable fantasy nonetheless.

Unfortunately, Bart can't get the church to do much of anything. From his perspective they've given up hope, and are unwilling to even try to save their church. Bart has, through dint of much diligent knocking on doors, gotten a couple of community families to come to the church, but none of them ever stay. The church members seem to like Bart and his family, and to respect what he's trying to do, but all they really want from him (and Malcolm Gilkey has explained this to him point blank) is to keep preaching God's Word and, if and when he has time, to visit the shut-ins and those in the hospital, and to conduct funerals. Malcolm is either more cynical or wiser than Bart, depending on how you look at it, and he's afraid Bart is going to be very disappointed by this church experience.

The Pastor and the Dying Church

There are pastors who can't say this, unfortunately, but of the double handful of churches I know well, the few dozen churches with which I flatter myself I'm reasonably familiar, and the perhaps hundred or more churches I've heard something about, I've never personally known a church to die; that is, known a church which said farewell to its last preacher, closed its doors for the last time, and either abandoned, gave away, or sold its property, the members then dispersing to other congregations. I have seen buildings that used to house congregations, and heard the stories behind many of them, and I have heard of churches that have died, but it's been a thankfully rare thing in my neck of the woods.

I have, however, known a number of churches that were perceived, or perceived themselves to be, dying churches. Davis Memorial Baptist Church, and others like it, fall into this category. The dying church is usually very small, and usually the membership of the church is composed almost exclusively of older adults, and it is clearly in decline. The remaining membership is invariably overwhelmingly faithful to the church, and will continue to be so as long as it's at all possible. It's often the case that some event in the community or the church's history has caused it to take a drastic downward turn. The church doesn't hold very much hope that it's going to be able to reverse the trend, and its recent history tends to bear this out.

A note of hope must be sounded. We serve the Lord of the Resurrection and bringing the dead and dying back to life and health is one of His particular specialties. But, although we believe in miracles, by their very nature they are not everyday occurrences. Pastor Eades and his optimistic counterparts in many churches have gone into dying churches fervently believing that they were going to be the ones to breathe new life into it, and have all too often been bitterly disappointed at finding this turned out not to be the case.

Generally speaking, a pastor finds it easy to get a vision in a dying church, and he's not hampered by conflicting visions or expectations of the church members. He wants to revitalize the church, to bring in folks from the community, to recharge the spirits and morale of the congregation. Hopefully the pastor is himself energetic, and he's happy to do a lot of knocking on doors himself, and generally encouraging people along, but, at some point in time, he's going to want the membership of the church to do a little bit along the lines of saving themselves.

Then, he runs into trouble. The congregation has given up hope, and the situation becomes analogous to the man on his deathbed (or what he thinks of as his deathbed) contending with an enthusiastic therapist who wants him to get up and get moving. It would be almost comical were it not so tragic. The primary characteristic of the change-resistant dying church is its resigned attitude. A church that has not accepted its death as inevitable, dying or not, may very well be open to trying all manner of new ideas the pastor brings in, and is beyond the scope of this book. The dying church has resigned itself to its imminent death, and all it wants is to be made comfortable in its last days.

The dying church, in short, is looking for hospice care. (I'm aware that hospice does more than end-of-life comfort care, but that's still the popular perception.) Whether its last days are measured in literal days or in years, the church has given up, and it wants someone to hold its hand and love it during this time. Sermons about heaven, about peace, about God's provision and protection, are very popular. Sermons about Christian living are good—after all, the members may last for quite awhile yet even if there's no future for the church. Sermons challenging the Church Universal to evangelism and the making of disciples are seen as inappropriate—that may be fine for other churches, but that has passed beyond the strength of this church, and can only be mocking at best.

The dying church does not want a pastoral leader. They want someone to help them end their days as a church with dignity. The church's "last days" may, of course, span a decade or more—the membership is waiting to die off to the point where the few remaining members will have to close the doors and move to other congregations. They're not quite ready to close the doors, but it's on the horizon, and nothing else is likely to happen between now and then. All the dying church wants in a pastor, for as long as he is able to stay, is someone to take care of them between now and the inevitable end.

PART TWO: THE FRUSTRATED PASTOR

We've talked a bit about change-resistant churches, and now we need to pay a visit to that most pathetic of individuals—the frustrated pastor. Not all pastors in change resistant churches are frustrated—many are having a very comfortable time doing maintenance ministry, and a church that doesn't want to get much of anything done suits them fine. However, the pastor who wants to be a leader, who has a vision for growth and change, and who wants to make a difference, is not going to be happy in the change-resistant church.

Very few conflicts, though, are completely one-sided, and often in a disconnect between a resistant church and a visionary pastor the pastor himself must bear some of the responsibility. After all, working with redeemed sinners is by definition the job description, and surely there must be some way that God's will can be done in this situation. We've picked on churches a good bit—in the interest of fairness, let's examine some of the less than ideal characteristics and attributes the pastor might possess that can contribute to his own frustration.

Chapter 6: Overdosed on Church Growth

The first poor fellow we want to look at is the preacher who has overdosed on church growth material. Picture him, if you will. Sitting at his desk in a small study in an older church building, surrounded by back issues of "Growing Churches" quarterly, copies of his alumni magazines and state papers, and lots of books by Lyle Schaller, Thom Rainer, George Barna, and Rick Warren. He seems a bit down. He's the pastor of one of the churches we've already covered, and it's going to be an uphill battle for him to get anything at all done, but where do the ideas come from that get his hopes up in the first place? I blame the media. Of course, the media is a fairly easy target, particularly for religious, social, and political conservatives, and media-bashing is one of our favorite sports...maybe I should just get on with the subject at hand.

Among my friends and colleagues we cover most of the major theological seminaries, a number of the smaller ones, and a lot of the newsletters and alumni publications from dozens of schools across the denominational spectrum. Is it just me, or have you noticed that the alumni features often talk about the success stories? The fellow we knew, way back when, who has wound up in a situation where the Lord appears to have worked mightily, and now he's involved in some dynamic, growing, vibrant church or parachurch ministry? Completely unlike the one you find yourself in?

I don't know if you've also noticed, but the articles in the professional magazines and the books on church life, health, and growth tend to focus on the churches that have experienced dynamic change or substantial growth, and they're usually written by the ministers who've found themselves at the helm of these tremendous outpourings of God's Spirit.

We also see, and no disrespect to Rick Warren or Bill Hybels or anybody else who plays in their league, that the speakers at conferences and the movers and shakers usually come from the ranks of those who've "made it" in the ministry. You don't tend to see books on the shelves that have been written by obscure ministers who have labored for years with very modest results to show for their efforts. Well, of course, there's this book. I'm writing it, and I've never set the world on fire with my ministry. As far as that goes, I haven't set the county on fire. When I come to think of it, I'm not sure I could produce evidence that I've warmed up the neighborhood. But, I digress.

Let me throw out a disclaimer here—I have absolutely no problem with Lyle, George, Rick, Bill, Max, Thom, or even "Jack," the guy whose name I keep seeing in the alumni magazine who I knew way back when. They're doing the Lord's work, He's choosing to multiply their efforts a thousandfold, and to Him be all the glory. God bless and keep these brothers and sisters in Christ who find themselves to their surprise at the forefront of something big.

The troubles come, though, when a pastor overdoses on church growth material. He goes to the seminars, he reads the books, he watches the DVDs, and he sees how God has blessed Birch Stream Community Church (name has been changed). He reads an article on 10 ways to revitalize your Sunday School, and he looks around at his Sunday School. The state paper publishes a feature on a small church that quintupled in size, and credit is given to the pastor's dynamic personality and outreach skills, and he examines his own approach to ministry. He looks around at the church he finds himself in, and he thinks "that could happen here."

And, nine times out of ten, it doesn't happen here, and he can't tell what the problem is. The church members don't get on board with his ideas, or the implemented program doesn't bring in new people like it should, or his attempts to model the behavior and strategies of successful ministers backfire and come off phony and forced. It worked so well when they tried it in that other church. The end result is frustration for the pastor.

I'm all for celebrating the success stories, and when we hear about many being brought to Christ, or evidences of deepening discipleship and spiritual vigor in the church, then the whole body of Christ ought to rejoice. I do think, though, that church growth material can snare the unwary pastor who hasn't learned to discern the principles behind the success stories and prayerfully adapt them to his own situation. I also think the Christian media does the church a disservice when it (as it has done on occasion) gives more praise to the servant enjoying an unusual harvest than it does to the Lord of the harvest. It gives grounds for envy and an unholy ambition in those who, like yours truly, are prone to stumble in these areas.

I have mentioned that the innovative church plants have their own challenges and difficulties and I can't speak to them, but I will bring out one observation that makes the point. The Christian media love new church starts, and I've read and heard about dozens of exciting new works that began with a handful of people meeting for prayer and mushroomed into dynamic churches several hundred strong. Amen and praise the Lord. I couldn't be a church planter myself, lacking both the skills and the temperament, but I have nothing but respect for those who follow God's leading into such a calling.

If you dig a little deeper than the front page, though, the picture looks less rosy. I'm making up these statistics, but I have reason to believe they're not far off the mark. For every "successful" new church start that grabs the headlines there are ten new churches that, with the same amount of labor and ability, are only able to maintain very modest numbers for years and years, and the pastor and his team have to struggle just to keep everyday existence going. These don't tend to get featured in the paper.

Even more tragic, and rarely if every reported, is that for every success story, there are a hundred new church starts that die on the vine. I have known of people, good men and women, who have tried to get new works going, have poured into them heartbreaking amounts of time, labor, and often personal finances, and have finally been forced to conclude that it's just not going to work. Some of these people have kept going by a misplaced faith long after a less committed person would have thrown in the towel. And then they have to sit, compare themselves to the success stories, and wonder how they could have failed.

The same principle applies to those of us in more traditional, less innovative churches as well. We want to make a difference where we are, laudably enough, and we see these examples of how other ministers have made changes in what appear to be very similar circumstances. We think, quite naturally, well, if they can do it, I can do it. Except that, somehow or other, it never seems to work quite right, and we soldier on in hope, ready to try the next idea that comes down the pike. It doesn't take too many failed ideas, though, before frustration sets in, and we wonder what's wrong with us, or we wonder what's wrong with the church.

One of the most common characteristics of the frustrated pastor is that he's allowed himself to be beguiled by stories of unusual success into developing unrealistic hopes and dreams. Now, don't hear me wrong—I believe in a God of miracles, and I'm not excusing the attitude of "we just can't expect very much here," even if I have been guilty of it on occasion. God is the authority over all circumstances, and He can bring a long-dead church back to roaring life if He so chooses. However, and God bless Rick Warren, I wouldn't want his job, God didn't call me, or you, to be him. We don't take our model from what God has called Bill Hybels to do, we take it from what He calls us to do. When Peter asked about John's ministry and calling, the Lord replied "If I want him to live until I come again, what business is that of yours? You follow ME." The pastor who winds up taking his model of success from what the media reports happening in other churches is doomed to frustration.

Chapter 7: I Want My Patience Now

The pastor has just come on the field, and he's done his homework well. He knows the people he has to work with, he knows the community, he knows the potential. He's ready to get started to get some work done. Or maybe, he's been there for awhile, but he's read some book or come back from some great conference, and he has dreams that he know to be reasonable and reachable for the church, and he's eager to share the joy and the excitement with his congregation and catch them on fire. And then he discovers that, where he'd hoped to jump into the driver's seat and step on the gas, the actual process is a lot more like trying to push a stuck car out of the mud. Without help. The church is simply not moving anywhere nearly as fast as he thinks it could and should, and he gets frustrated.

The whole joke goes like this—I want my patience now, I'll work on my procrastination later, I don't know anything about my ignorance and I don't care about my apathy. Let's talk about impatience. To change the subject in the interest of making a point, I'd like to look briefly at the Baptist association, the gathering of local churches in the surrounding counties that cooperate for fellowship, church health, and missions.

I've done a lot of work with two different associations, and not everybody in the local churches properly appreciates that the time scale on the association is much slower than it is in the church. Most associations only meet quarterly as far as their executive board goes, once or twice a year for the whole association, and perhaps monthly for special committees or task groups. It takes a long time to get anything at all done at the associational level, just because you have people who are separated by geography who only see each other to talk things over every couple of months.

In the local church, where we can announce a business meeting one Sunday and make a major decision two weeks later, we can get impatient with the slow pace of the association. Sometimes it seems like it takes forever to get anything done. It's one of the basic truths of sociology, though, that the larger and more complex an organization is, the slower it will be to change.

Pastors, in general, are neither large nor complex (feel free to insert bad jokes here). We're individuals, and we can be ready to make major changes the instant it occurs to us that they need to be made. When I was pastoring I could come into my office on Monday morning and have completely changed my preaching, Bible study, and outreach plans by lunchtime, at least the ones that didn't depend on anyone else for implementation.

However, when I wanted to make a real change in how the church was doing something, I had to wait until I had the right people together to bounce the idea off of, then I had to convince them of the desirability of the change, then I had to go through the normal processes of budgeting, business meetings, public notice and so forth before anything can happen. A major change, even one that everyone is in favor of, can take months to implement. A change where there is active resistance can take a lot longer than that.

We are creatures of habit, and change is scary. When I take my son to church, I like to know where I'm supposed to leave him and who's going to be there. When we have a fellowship meal, it's good to know who's accustomed to setting up the tables, getting the drinks together, and coordinating the food. When we come together to worship, our order of service rarely varies, and everybody knows what to expect, when to stand up, when to sing, when to listen, and so forth. It could be argued that all these church "habits" are good and desirable.

There are other habits that don't hurt anything but that have considerable force behind them—probably the best known in the church is that of everybody sitting in essentially the same place every Sunday. I don't know anybody who moves around all that much, except for scooting over for visitors. It's a grief after a death in the church to see a vacant seat where a loved one sat, and it's a joy to see someone return to their accustomed place after a lengthy illness. Habits are not bad in and of themselves.

However, we're talking about the frustrated pastor, and one thing guaranteed to frustrate him is a failure to recognize the force of habit and custom in the lives of his flock, and the natural resistance to change that is a part of anyone in a comfortable situation. The thrust of this book bemoans the change resistant church, but the pastor is in trouble when he doesn't recognize that a certain resistance to change, particularly in older people and particularly in a long-established traditional church, is a very natural thing and only to be expected. I'm not saying it's necessarily desirable; I'm only saying that it's normal.

In a way, some of it may be the fault of our training, but a lot of it is just our own natural immaturity. In seminary, conferences, and books, we get charged up with a lot of ideas, and we're frequently encouraged and exhorted concerning the "urgency of the task" at hand. There's work for the churches to do, and we have a headful of ideas that we'd like to get busy implementing. We get all that as a result of our exposure to the passion, deep thinking and creative, innovative ideas of the church at large. The other side of it, our own impatience, we get to take full credit for. Have you ever know a small child who was good at waiting? Because I haven't, and I've known a lot of them. Some aren't as bad as others, but none of them are good at it.

As we get older, we usually get a little better at waiting for some things, but not always for others. I can't wait for the weekend to get here. Or, for those of us who work on Sundays, I can't wait for Monday to get here. The pastor sees what needs to happen in his church, gets excited about the possibilities of it happening, envisions all sorts of wonderful things going on (and, quite possibly, all quite rightly) and then, in his humanity, wants it to happen, and wants it to happen NOW.

And then, even in the best of circumstances, the impatient pastor is going to run up against the fact that an institution can not and will not change as fast as a motivated individual is capable of. Add that to the fact that I've never seen the best of circumstances and you never have either, and it complicates matters. At the very least, some people in the church, if not the majority of them, are going to resist any change simply because it is change, and they're not comfortable with it.

A man was interviewed by the local paper on the occasion of his 100th birthday, and one of the comments made by the reporter was "I imagine you've seen a lot of changes in your day." "Sure have," was the reply, "and I've been against every one of them." A lot of you reading this are picturing someone in your mind right now (I could give you a few individuals' names myself) who, no matter what the change is, is going to come down against it.

I have a modest collection of church growth books in my own library. One of my favorites is Dr. Thom Rainer's Eating the Elephant, which deals well with growing a traditional (read, "change-resistant") church, and I can't recommend it to you highly enough. I also like the title. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. In order to bring about change at all, much less in a resistant church, the pastor has to be committed to making small, manageable changes, to being sensitive to the people, and to staying with the task until it's done.

The impatient pastor has a spiritual crisis of his own to deal with. Paul, in Ephesians 4:2, exhorts his hearers to be completely humble and gentle, be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. All too often, when we get impatient, we have become guilty of desiring to use the church as a means to an end. We see the potential for ministry around the church, and so are tempted to harness the church to meet our own goals, with or without their consent. This is not a fitting pastoral attitude.

I sympathize with and have often shared the frustration of the pastor who wants his church to get moving, but we need to be mindful of the needs of our people as well as the mission of the church. Our church members are not our tools given us to accomplish our own dreams; they themselves are our calling. The pastor is to exhort, equip, train, strengthen, lead, and encourage his people to accomplish the work of the church, but he must do so, at times, with patience and gentleness. There is a time for haste, but the wise pastor must distinguish the truly urgent from that which only seems so because of his own impatience.

Chapter 8: They Just Don't Understand.

When I was in seminary I was involved (in a very small role) with a musical called "Jericho," and I have forgotten the author's name, but will be happy to give due credit in subsequent editions of this book when the high demand sells out the first printing, if someone will let me know who wrote the piece. I do remember that Professor Dennis Parrish played the role of Joshua, and I still remember much of the solo he sang, and I was very moved by it then and am still: "Holy ground. I'm standing on holy ground. And yet You have given me the very place I'm standing now. Give me the vision, the eyes to see Your righteousness, the heart to know Your faithfulness forever will endure." Those of us who participated in that and watched it were inspired by Joshua's prayer that God might give him a vision, a dream, a goal, for what he was to accomplish in God's might and power.

For Joshua, it was the conquest of the promised land, and he saw it clearly, and it guided him for the rest of his life. For the man in the pastorate (as many of us who heard the song were to become) the desire was that God might give us a vision for our church, a clear picture of what it could, and should, become, so vivid that we could see plainly what steps might take us there.

The King James version of Proverbs 29:18 says that where there is no vision, the people perish. A translation more appropriate to modern English might say "where there is no [prophetic] revelation the people are unrestrained" but it still carries the idea that God's revelation or God's sent vision is necessary for the well-being of God's people. The idea of the fundamental need of a vision has shaped much modern church philosophy and practice; George Barna, particularly, has written on this subject, but he's hardly the only expert who has touted the need for a pastor to have a vision for his church.

And we have responded. We have embraced the idea that, from Abraham's vision of a multitude of descendants to John's vision of the New Jerusalem, God has been revealing to His servants glorious promises of what He plans to do, with them along for the ride. We have come into our pastorates, heady with the affirmation of our call both to the ministry and to this particular church, and we have looked at the resources of the church, the needs and potential of the community, and our own temperament and gifts, and we have hit our knees and entreated mightily with the good Lord that He might show us the grand vision for what we can do here at this church.

And, glory be to His name, He gives us a dream. We envision the church beginning a concerted outreach ministry to families with young children, sponsoring community fairs and funneling prospects into our revitalized preschool and children's Sunday School classes, with attendant growth in the adult classes. Or we see a benevolent need that can utilize the skills of the older ladies of our church, and begin a program targeting unwed mothers, providing clothes, food, child care, and job and household management counseling. Or we see the lost unreached teenagers in our area and plan to recruit several energetic couples in our church to begin vibrant get-togethers for evangelistic youth Bible study and recreation. Or we see this. Or we see that. Or we see....

And we rise from our knees sure and firm and confident, knowing that God in His mercy and wisdom has revealed to us the future of this His church, and we are to be privileged to be at the helm when He brings the vision to fruition. Now we must put feet to our dreams, and get to work. We can either communicate the vision to the church, let them rejoice with us, and let them begin to pursue the dream with us, and get to work together or we can keep the essentials of the dream to ourselves but begin administratively leading the church to accomplish the desired action steps, but, whichever, we begin to move forward in earnest.

And the church responds beyond our wildest dreams to our inspired, firm yet gentle leadership. The people jump to the idea, handle all of the little details and difficulties that weren't part of our grand plan without bothering us, burst out of the four walls of the church like a mighty wave sweeping over the community, and draw men, women, and children to hear our preaching and give their lives to Christ. The altar calls run to six repetitions of Just As I Am. Attendance skyrockets. A building program is conceived. The church's name (and the pastor's) are mentioned with respect and admiration across the state. Our God-given vision is realized, and we rest on our laurels, happy and content.

Oh, wait, I'm sorry. That doesn't happen in your congregation, does it? Because you pastor a change-resistant church. My mistake. What happens in your church is that you have this vision that makes perfect sense to you. Your church has the resources and the talents, the needs are there, and this is obviously a means to fulfill part of the Great Commission. This is evangelistic, this is discipling. This makes sense. This is a step of faith, sure, but God is great and nothing is beyond His power. This could fulfill the church's purpose in this time and this place. This is why we're here. This is why we're the church. This is the VISION!

And the church just simply does...not...get it.

I have talked to pastors on the phone and in person who were almost in tears over this issue. They were good and godly men, and they felt, sincerely, that this is what God was calling them to do, and they were in great sorrow because this church that they loved was, as they perceived it, outside of God's will. The church, for whatever reason, was failing to respond to them, and that was bad enough, but the church was also failing to respond to God, and that was a source of fear and grief and confusion for them.

Not all frustrated pastors have a problem with abuse of church growth material, not all of them are impatient, not all of them have issues with pride or ego (as we'll see in a later chapter), but I've never known a pastor fed up with his church who didn't feel this disconnect between what was so crystal clear to him and what the congregation thought to be the case. Even when the pastor wasn't sure quite what to do he was sure that the church ought to be doing something, and the church wasn't with him.

One of the main things relationship counselors focus on is clear communication—making sure each party understands the other party's point of view. For the pastor of the change-resistant church, however clearly he makes his case, it seems as though the church is deliberately misunderstanding what he's trying to say. There are four possibilites when the pastor has a vision from God and the congregation doesn't "buy in" to it. 1. The pastor is mistaken, and the vision is not from God. 2. The vision is from God, but the pastor is not properly communicating it. 3. The vision is from God and the congregation is unwilling to receive it. 4. The vision is from God and the congregation is unable to receive it.

Let's examine, honestly, the idea that the pastor may be mistaken, that we may have created a vision out of our own imaginations and desires and signed God's name to it. It could happen. Now, I'm a firm believer that God will not steer wrong a man who is honestly, sincerely, trying to find His will, but sometimes pastors shortcut the process. A pastor may be engaged in sinful practices that deaden his awareness, or he may be neglecting to maintain his own relationship with the Lord, or he may arrive at the "vision catching" process with too many preconceived notions of how this is going to go. A man can't neglect basic obedience and expect God to give him detailed instructions. Furthermore, pastors aren't Lone Rangers—even Moses had Jethro around to advise him. If the church isn't getting it, a humble pastor should at least entertain the possibility that God hasn't sent the vision he arrived at.

Assuming, though, that the pastor has received a genuine direction for his congregation from the Lord and the church just hasn't climbed on board, three possibilities remain. First, the pastor may not be using the necessary discretion, patience, and wisdom to clearly communicate the vision. The pastor's culture and background are often very different than that of his church, and thus, the "language of meaning" he speaks may be very different. Also, because of our training and experience, we may genuinely be able to more quickly apprehend spiritual truths than our church can.

The pastor must be very careful to couch the vision in terms and symbols that the congregation can understand, and give it to them in a manner that allows them time to assimilate and own the vision for themselves. Much harm has been done by pastors riding roughshod over their congregations in the name of the Lord. See the chapter on impatience, just above.

Secondly, though, the congregation may be unwilling to receive the vision. Disobedient churches are not unknown, and God's revelation has competed on many occasions with a church's comfort zone or conflicting ideas. In the parable of the host inviting his guests to the feast, they gave all manner of excuses why they couldn't respond to the vision, to put it in this chapter's terms. They understood the Lord's will clearly, they were certainly able to respond, they just had other things they would rather do with their time and resources. So it often, sadly, goes with the church.

Thirdly, the congregation may have made itself unable to hear the word of the Lord. From Pharaoh's hardness of heart to the reprobate mind of Romans 1, the Bible is full of examples of people who have so consistently pulled away from God that they have made themselves to be spiritually insensitive. Here the pastor has his work cut out for him, trying to lead an unwilling congregation to bring itself, once more, in humility to the cross of Christ, there to receive rebuke for unrepentant sin, cleansing and healing for the mess they've made of their lives and ministry, and new guidance and direction as God's people. A tall order, indeed.

In the musical "1776," John Adams, with his dreams for American independence thwarted at every turn, is standing alone in the congressional chamber, asking to no one in particular "Does anyone see what I see?" Pastors of change resistant churches have to face the harsh reality that their congregations simply don't see things as they do, and adjust their strategies and methods of communication accordingly in order to convey their vision to their people.

Chapter 9: Failure is Not an Option

Have you ever been the pastor of a small church and felt condescended to? I've never felt the urge to be a big-church pastor, mainly because the "smaller" churches that I have pastored have been all I felt I could really keep up with, but I have felt irritated by occasionally being patronized. It's happened every so often; the one incident that really sticks in my memory is the lady who belonged to a larger church who visited us for a special program referring to that "dear little church" of mine. I can't describe the tone of voice or the smile, but I wanted to defend the church up one side and down the other on the spot. Dear little church, indeed. Just because she usually went to a church that was so big the pastor didn't know her name she thought our close-knit fellowship was...um, where was I?

There's a certain pressure on ministers to have a "successful" church. The day is past, if indeed it ever really existed, when being a pastor was automatically a respected and high-status profession. In order for our jobs, our careers, our lives to have significance in the eyes of the world, the churches we pastor have to be large, dynamic, vibrant, and growing. If they are such, well and good—we are winners. We are successful. If our churches are not growing, not changing, not dynamic and exciting, then we are failures. And in our eyes it is obviously the fault of our change-resistant churches that we fail.

A frustrated pastor is one who has set a goal, a benchmark, a vision for his church, and has committed himself to the idea that "this must succeed." The unspoken assumption is that, if this dream is not realized, then the church has failed. And if the church has failed, then the pastor has failed. He'll usually try to blame circumstances or church members for the failure, perhaps polish up the old resumé.At the very least the joy and the fun will be out of the work for him, because failure was not an option that could be considered, and failure signals a very black outlook indeed.

There are three broad categories of pastors that have a problem with failure, and there's some overlap. The first is the man who has never failed before, and doesn't know how to deal with it. The second is the man who knows exactly what failure feels like, and never wants to face it again. The third, a little different, is the man who allows someone outside himself to define what success and failure look like, and he has something to prove.

Some people have never had to seriously deal with failure. Gordon MacDonald, in his book Ordering Your Private World, talks about the perils of the "fast starter," and it seems common enough among the frustrated pastors I know that it bears mentioning here. Many pastors evidenced maturity and giftedness relatively early in their lives—they may not have been the stars of the classroom, but they were well behaved and hard working, which counts for a lot. They began well, took the lead early, and coasted along on their momentum until events caught up with them. I can think of one man particularly who excelled in school, excelled in his early work experiences, showed evidence of giftedness for the ministry, then walked into a church expecting that everyone would naturally just follow his ideas because he was such a great guy.

And then, lo and behold, the cleverness and winsomeness and creativity that had served him so well in his earlier ventures weren't enough to motivate a change-resistant church to get moving, and he didn't know how to deal with it. Some in the ministry have been fortunate or unfortunate enough to have had most things come fairly easily to them, they've become accustomed to it, and they just sort of assume it's going to continue. They've got no experience dealing with difficult situations, and they get frustrated when they arise, and they don't know how to handle it.

Some in the ministry, alas, know exactly what failure feels like. I know several men personally (and one of them I know very personally), and quite a few more by casual acquaintance, who have left churches under, shall we say, less than ideal circumstances. And now by God's restorative grace they find themselves in another ministerial position and they have to succeed because that will prove once and for all that the last failure was NOT THEIR FAULT. It's not enough just to have an okay ministry. I have to thrive, and the church has to thrive under my leadership, to demonstrate to everybody's satisfaction that I have worth and competence as a pastor, and to show that other church how badly they misjudged me. Speaking hypothetically, of course.

A lot of change-resistant churches are not necessarily uncomfortable places to be. Often they're full of very godly and loving individuals, and it's not unknown for a pastor and his family to be tremendously supported and cared for while he's there. However, a pastor who's still feeling the pain of past failure and who is driven to make of this church a success is going to be in for a very tense time, and he's going to make a lot of church people stressed as well until he can deal with the real issues.

We come to the third category--the pastors who allow others to do their approving for them. Often this is a second-or-third generation pastor who feels compelled to measure up to the achievements of his father or grandfather, or it's a young man whose mother always wanted a preacher son and she keeps wondering when he's going to get a "better" church, so he has to make this church grow to validate himself and his ministry in the eyes of his family and friends. This one is really a subset of those who need the acclaim of the world on their "successful" ministry before they can feel that they have truly arrived, and it can encompass both those who have had nothing but success and those who have known the sharp sting of failure.

The trouble with all of these troubled men is that they have arrived in the pastorate with a preconceived notion of what has to happen in order for everything to be all right. They may hide behind the idea of their "God-given vision" for the church, but the plain and simple fact is that the church has become, for them, a prop for their own self-esteem. To validate their own ego, they use the church to demonstrate to the world that they are successes.

Paul reminds Titus that an "episkopon," an overseer, of the church was entrusted with God's work. (Titus 1:8). We know from our own preaching on stewardship that a steward is someone who is responsible to care for that which belongs to someone else. It doesn't give any of us any problems to affirm that we are stewards of the churches we serve, that the work we do as pastors and overseers is God's work. We're also mindful that we are able to do that which we do by the working of the Holy Spirit that ministers through us. We're also aware that it is God Who gives the vision and the guidance for that which He desires His church to accomplish. In other words, we're doing God's work, in God's church, by the power of God's spirit, aiming at a goal that God sets. How then do we dare act as though the church must succeed just to make us look good?

The pastor for whom failure is not an option is in deep difficulty from the get-go, largely because success in God's eyes often looks like failure to the world. The example to which everything else must come as a very poor second is the traveling Jewish teacher and rabble-rouser hanging dead on a Roman cross. No one looking at Him would guess that all Heaven and Earth had just been turned upside down and the power of Death itself had been irrevocably destroyed. To the eyes of those around, He had failed. To the eyes of Heaven, overwhelming victory was declared.

What of the missionary giving his life in an obscure part of the world, dying in poverty and filth? What of the brilliant scholar, laboriously toiling over a translation of scripture so that some might have the Bible in their own language, when his gifts would have made him rich in some other endeavor? What of, if I dare say it, the pastor spending fifty years of his life faithfully preaching the gospel in some rural area, while men of lesser ability achieved pulpits of prominence and renown? No one yet knows what successess will be honored and acclaimed once we have crossed over the great divide and stand to be rewarded and judged for our work in Eternity.

Most of us can probably identify with pastors who have insecurities that need to be addressed. I have a great admiration for pastors who want to get something done. And for pastors who have experienced failure before and live in fear that it could happen again, hey, I have been there. And, of course, we have already established that we do need to be concerned about results, and we can't excuse complacency if nothing appears to be happening. But we need to keep some things firmly in mind. One, the work is the Lord's, and anything good that happens is going to be on His account anyway. Two, it may sometimes appear that nothing is happening apparent to our eyes while great victories are being won on an eternal level (conversely, tremendous growth in numbers and activity does not always indicate gains in spiritual benefit). And three, and by no means the least important, it is our reputation before God that ought to be of the primary importance to us anyway. Let all the world despise us, if only God approve.

Chapter 10: The Book of Hesitations

The final chapter in this section deals with a slightly different characteristic of the frustrated pastor. The previous four have all been to some degree caused, or at least aggravated, by friction between the pastor and external factors. This one, though, is almost purely a matter of the pastor's own spirit.

Visit with me, if you will, a pastor in his study. Let's call him Doug, because I don't personally know any pastors named Doug. He's privileged to be the minister at a solid, comfortable church, and he's already got the idea that his congregation is pretty well stuck in an institutional rut. Nope, change will not come easily here. But Doug has his act together. Doug has a shelf full of books on church growth, outreach, and evangelism. He's read most of them cover to cover and skimmed the rest. He knows all the principles to bring about change in the most change-resistant of churches.

Doug has a lot going for him right now. He knows his church, knows the people, has met a lot of folks in the community, and gets along well. Sunday's sermon is pretty much together, he's caught up on his pastoral visits, there aren't really any urgent administrative matters requiring his attention, and now's not a good time of day to catch any of the evangelistic prospects he's been praying for. He has a little discretionary time.

Doug's thinking he ought to take the opportunity to map out some real pastoral leadership, to do some thinking and planning and dreaming for the future work of his church. He knows his congregation is change-resistant, but if he moves carefully and prayerfully, he ought to be able to make some progress.

The trouble is that Doug really has no idea what to do. There are so many directions the church could go, but they certainly can't start everywhere at once. Doug could pour his energies into revitalizing the youth group—maybe if he takes more of a personal interest and more of a direct leadership role, that group will start to grow and bring in teens and their families. Or the Sunday School is a little cramped for usable space right now—maybe Doug should start investigating the possibility of a building program—that'd be a major change, sure enough. Or there's this evangelistic training curriculum that is at the moment the hot ticket item through the denomination's literature arm, and maybe he could start a church-wide emphasis with that and build a fire under his membership that way. Or maybe...

But, you know, any one of those things would take a lot of time and effort, and Doug isn't having to actively look for ways to use up all his spare time, and anything new he tries to introduce to the church he already knows is going to be like shoving a hippopotamus through a revolving door. Doug's dedicated, and devout, and he loves the Lord, and he loves and likes his church, and he really wants to make a difference. If Doug could see a clear path—burning bush, please, Lord—then he would pour all of his not inconsiderable gifts and energies into making it happen. But he really can't work up the enthusiasm to begin what promises to be an uphill and tedious battle when he's not even clear about which direction God wants the church to go.

In the end, looking over the ways he could use his afternoon, Doug decides to take a nap. He can probably catch one of his evangelistic prospects between dinner and the budget committee meeting he's obligated to go to tonight, and the rest will do him good. He'll be late getting to bed, and he's got a breakfast prayer meeting tomorrow.

I haven't put a whole lot of personal testimony into this book so far, but I'll confess that I struggle a good bit with this issue, and a number of my brothers in the ministry have reported facing it as well. I do know a few colleagues quite well who I don't think have ever had an uncertain moment in their lives. (Which probably means I don't know them as well as I think I do.) You know what I mean. People who seem to know exactly what needs to be done in any situation, and head straight there. God bless them, and more power to them, although I sure hope they're right in their certainty.

For the rest of us, though, it's a problem when we're not sure we're discerning the will of God rightly. I've often joked that when God gets a fax machine, I'll get one. Whatever, Lord. I'll go wherever You want whenever You want, and I'll do whatever You want me to when I get there. Just leave me a clear sheet of instructions on my bedside table in the morning so I'll know what to do with the day, and we'll be good. Burning bushes, talking donkeys, still small voices, however You choose to manifest, Father, just please, oh please, make it clear what You want me to do.

And then, of course, since the Father rarely chooses to manifest Himself that overtly (for reasons of His own, and I do speak reverently), we are left to seek His way as best we can. I'll be talking a little bit in the next chapter about discerning God's will, but at the moment I'd like to deal with the frustration of not knowing it. I don't subscribe to the theory that a change of pastors automatically means a change of direction for a church. In other words, when we show up to a new parish, God has already been at work there, often for generations, and we're just plugging in to what's been going on for some time. A lot of times the wise pastor will discern the direction God is already leading the church, often through the passions and interests of key leaders, and will then channel, direct, and refine the energies to get to the appointed place more effectively.

The problem in the change-resistant church, though, is that nobody is all that interested about going much of anywhere. The congregation has no passions, drives, or interests for the pastor to plug into, other than those feeble desires to maintain what they have or maybe make some superficial improvements. It's a very hard thing for a man with a vision to move a sluggish church to fulfill it. It's a much, much harder thing for a man who knows he ought to have a vision but doesn't to come into a sluggish church wanting to move them to get something done but having no idea what.

The hesitant pastor is paralyzed by indecision. In a vibrant, vital church when you're not sure what to do you can toss around ideas, try things, maybe even make mistakes, and often discover God's will in the midst of the hullaballoo. In the change-resistant church the hesitant pastor isn't sure what the best direction to go is, and he knows that any proposed major change is going to take a lot of time, a lot of effort, and may even put his pastorate on the line, and he's just not willing to pay that price for what might be a mistake in the first place. He wants to do something, but he's not sure what. The church doesn't want to do anything, and their passivity drains what little enthusiasm he has for the task.

As I've said, I struggle with this myself, so I can't be quite as assertive in my prescriptions for the hesitant pastor. If I knew all the answers to this one I wouldn't be struggling with it. The hesitant pastor's perceived problem, whether he states it so boldly or not, is that God hasn't revealed any indications of His will. Now, unless we want to accuse God of unfairness, I think we have to accept as a given that God is going to make His expectations of us clear. How could we be guilty of disobedience, if God has not told us what He wants us to do? I suspect what's going on here is that the hesitant pastor is, for some reason, having a tough time discerning the leading of God's Holy Spirit, and that suggests a couple of possibilities right off.

One of the most common pitfalls in the pastorate, at least from the experience of those I know and talk to, is that we often neglect our own walk with God. This would mystify the average layman who thinks that the pastor somehow must have a closer connection with God than the man on the street, but there is nothing inherently spiritual about the office of pastor. Take Pastor Doug's case. He's a very busy man, and obviously conscientious about his responsibilities, but nowhere do you get any indication that he takes time regularly to be with God. His prayer times all have to do with asking for God's blessing on his job performance. Because we study the Bible so much (for sermon and lesson preparation) and because we pray so much (with people in hospitals, at meals, in services) we can fall into the trap of thinking that we've thereby nourished our own spirits.

I have known some fairly prominent and gifted pastors who I am pretty sure hadn't had a real heartfelt personal prayer time in quite awhile, and every time they opened the Bible they were taking notes for their pulpit work. I've been guilty of this myself. Sometimes the hesitant pastor doesn't know God's will because he's out of the habit of listening to God. He wants instructions for doing his job, but what God wants more than anything else is him, and he has been withholding himself from the Lord.

It's also a possibility that the hesitant pastor isn't receiving detailed guidance from God because he's neglecting basic obedience. If I have a fellow working for me and I give him an instruction, and he comes back later and asks what I want him to do now, I'll ask him if he's finished the first task. If he hasn't, then what I want him to do is finish what I've already told him about, and there's no point in telling him anything else until that's been taken care of.

Often, we in the pastorate want to receive big, detailed dreams for where God wants to use us to take His church. We want a bold, clear vision, but God's reply will be "Are you doing what I've already told you to do?" This is a hard thing to get across to people, and I can certainly understand it being a bit of a trade secret, but, I repeat, a pastor is inherently no more "godly" than any other Christian. We can have unconfessed sin in our lives. We can be guilty of habitual sins and unrepentant hearts. We can neglect basic Christian disciplines of stewardship and devotion. We can have unloving and unforgiving attitudes towards others.

Even in the pastorate, we can be living lives outside of God's will. Even if we look good, even if very few people can tell of anything being wrong, we may be just going through the motions and be guilty of a very superficial Christianity. If God expects us to do His will, then certainly He owes us understandable directions, but He's under no obligation to provide further instruction if we're neglecting to do what we already know we're supposed to be doing.

PART THREE: ENCOURAGEMENT AND ATTEMPTS AT GUIDANCE

At this point in the book, having diagnosed the problems of the change-resistant church and outlined the challenges facing the visionary pastor, it would seem to be appropriate to offer some guidance that might enable said pastor to rise to the occasion, to overcome his obstacles and lead his church in a manner worthy of his calling and his Lord. It is very tempting for this writer to shrug his shoulders and say "beats me," but that would probably hurt the word-of-mouth that I'm hoping is going to generate such phenomenal book sales. I've got children rapidly rising towards college age, and I don't make all that much money.

Unfortunately, there aren't any magic tricks available to address the problem. I picked up a doctor of ministry degree a few years back, leading to the joke where a pastor's little boy is asked by a friend "Is your dad really a doctor?" "He is," replied the preacher's child, "but not the kind that can do you any good." The doctor's diagnosis, however, is there are no quick fixes to the problems you're having. If you want to regain your healthy pastor-church relationship (or get one in the first place), it's going to take disciplined behavioral modification, attitude adjustments and, if yours is a severe case, maybe a change of scenery.

The good news, though, is that we do not persevere alone. We have a great Helper and Guide to lead us through the difficult times. If that weren't the case, then we'd just be wasting our time anyway. The next few chapters will mainly remind you (and may remind me as I'm writing them) of some of the basics of life as God's undershepherd, but we're a forgetful people and need to be reminded of these things from time to time.

Chapter 11: Back to the Basics

This chapter runs the risk of being a little insulting, so let me assure you that there's nothing personal. If your spiritual life is as dynamic, vibrant, pious, humble, repentant, edifying, and glorifying to God as you could possibly desire, feel free to skip to chapter 12, which has some good stuff in it. If you feel that sometimes you don't always practice what you preach, then maybe you might find some encouragement here. Actually, if you feel you can skip this part, maybe you ought to read it anyway. It shouldn't take long.

First and foremost, DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER WITH THE GOAL OF IMPROVING YOUR MINISTRY!!!!!!!! Let's get that clear upfront. I know you picked up this book hoping for some practical tips on how to change your church. I also know that you have a hard time reading the Bible without thinking about your next sermon or teaching obligation. I also know that you sometimes attempt to evangelize and disciple others because it's your job and is expected of you.

I also know that one of the most common problems I run across in pastors, and definitely not excluding myself, is that for us our profession of faith often becomes no more than just our profession. This story's probably not true, but it was told of Robert Frost that, at a dinner party, he and some other guests were on the patio and a woman commented "Oh, Mr. Frost, isn't that a lovely sunset?" The great poet is said to have replied, "Please, madam. I never discuss business after dinner."

Not to belabor the point, but if a poet becomes incapable of appreciating beauty without trying to plug it into his next poem, then how much more can we ministers become incapable of appreciating the things of God without trying to fit them into our work responsibilities? Some of you are thinking right now, "Okay, he's going to talk about my devotional life. Yeah, I probably do need to pray more and read the Bible more just to nourish my own spirit, and, if I do that, then that should make me a more effective pastor!"

Or am I the only one who's ever tried to rev up my spiritual life purely because I was desperate to get inspiration for a sermon, and I'd try anything? We in ministerial work have a unique temptation, already referred to earlier, that the typical layman doesn't always appreciate. Over time, we can start to treat our relationship with God as just an aspect (albeit a major one) of our job responsibilities.

So, if you're skimming this book for the practical hints and get stopped at this point, I have something to say to you. Right this moment, I don't give a rat's rear end how your church is doing. That's a little harsh, but I don't apologize for it. I've no doubt you've heard a lot worse, and you need to be reminded of this. God is not concerned with your performance as pastor. God is not dependent on your skill or experience. God does not need for you to get results. God....wants....YOU!

Deuteronomy 30:15-18, in the NIV, says this, in the words of the Lord God to His people, Israel, "See, I set before you today life and prosperity, death and destruction. For I command you today to love the LORD your God, to walk in His ways, and to keep His commands, decrees and laws; then you will live and increase, and the LORD your God will bless you in the land you are entering to possess. But if your heart turns away and you are not obedient, and if you are drawn away to bow down to other gods and worship them, I declare to you this day that you will certainly be destroyed. You will not live long in the land you are crossing the Jordan to enter and possess."

In the preceding chapter we talked about the lack of a real spiritual life as a hindrance to the pastor having a clear vision for his church. I want you to go one step beyond that with me—the lack of a real spiritual life should disqualify us from the office of pastor. We have no business standing in front of our congregation as a spiritual leader if we are not, ourselves, humble before God.

Do some soul-searching with me. All sin comes down to idolatry. An idol is anything in your life that takes precedence before the one true God. If your sin of choice is gluttony, then your stomach has become your god. If your weakness is lust, then your sex drive is your god. If material possessions consume your thoughts and energies, then you are worshiping the god of things. And, if you put your devotional life second in priority to your sermon preparation, then, preacher, your pastorate has become your god, you are worshiping at the altar of your job, and you are guilty of idolatry.

I don't have to tell you what to do with sin in your life (but I will, anyway). You need to repent of your sin and confess it before God and receive His forgiveness and restoration. If you're like me, you need to ask God to break your heart and make you repentant (Father, I'm not sorry for my sins, but I want to be. Teach me Your ways, O Lord my God). You need to come before God and ask Him to teach you how to praise and adore and worship Him as He ought to be reverenced.

Put the book down after this paragraph and go pray. Take the morning off. Take the afternoon off. Take whatever you need, because nothing else in this book, nothing else on your desk, nothing else on your to-do list is as important as this. (Well, I mean, don't leave your wife waiting at the airport or anything like that.) Go seek Your Father's face in humility and sorrow for your sins, and don't come back until God has shown you something. Don't look for a quick fix—He may have to break the bad habits of years. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Have you been to pray, or are you just skimming through the chapter to get to the good stuff? Okay, second chance. Go pray, already. The book will wait. Your church has been change-resistant for a long time—a few more hours won't do much harm.

Okay, I hope you've made some progress. You're my brother or sister in the Lord, and though we might never have met and may never meet this side of Heaven, I love you in Christ and I care about you. I will say again, though, that the most important thing you can do is to guard carefully your walk with God, and we fall away from it so easily. I speak from very personal, very painful, very foolish experience.

Now, even though I said earlier, somewhat forcefully, that I wasn't concerned at that time with the state of your church or your ministry, I'd like to get back to it. I love the Solomon story, in which Solomon asks God for, essentially, wisdom to do his job, and God, pleased, gives him that and much more besides. Your pastoral role is important, and God is glorified when His servants acquit themselves well. We just have to get the priorities in the right place.

Let me share with you one key principle of God's economy. Here it is, bumper sticker theology, a pithy saying, no scripture reference for it, easily memorized but profound nonetheless. Wait for it, it's coming. This is a good one.

"If we take care of God's business, God will take care of our business."

The truth of it is self-evident. God delights to care for us and to prosper us, and, throughout the Bible, the welfare of God's people suffered only when they'd strayed from Him and He had to get their attention. If we tend to the things of God, which includes first and foremost our own personal worship and dedication, then God will bless us, equip us to perform our duties, and prosper our work. Of course, that comes with the disclaimer that sometimes blessings come in odd packages, and what looks like a misfortune in the eyes of the world is often only God's expressway to some much greater good.

Nevertheless, God wants us to do well in the churches to which He calls us, and it is obviously His will that His churches be faithful in teaching His word, presenting His gospel, and sharing His love. When we neglect basic obedience, God is prevented by His own integrity from making His power available to us. If I can't trust my daughter to do what I tell her, I would be foolish indeed to trust her with my car keys and credit card.

If you fall into the trap of praying, worshipping, and studying the Bible because you think it'll make you a better pastor, then you're only using God as a means to an end, and He simply will not be used that way. Let me encourage you to remember to pray, to worship, and to love God's word for your own sake, and for the glory of the God Who made you and redeemed you. God will bless your work, but let Him worry about that. You just concern yourself with seeking Him.

Chapter 12: What Not to Do

I imagine most of you reading this book, if you've had any church experience whatsoever, could write at least a pretty lengthy essay called "what not to do." You may not have been successful at finding methods that would gently and winningly bring about lasting changes in your various churches, but, brother, you've sure found a couple of techniques absolutely guaranteed not to work. I've tried a few things that in retrospect make me wonder what I was thinking, I've had fellow ministers tell me of endeavors that have begged the question "you did what?!?!" and I'm sure a number of you could tell me of well-intentioned backfires that would make my jaw drop. What on earth did you expect was going to happen when you tried that?

On the off chance, however, that you haven't made all the mistakes yet (and in the next chapter we'll try to give you some hope about recovering lost ground) I'd like to identify three broad areas that I think cover the majority of the mistakes we make in dealing with the change-resistant church. Although, you know, even though I've heard a lot of horror stories, it's entirely possible that you've managed something spectacular that would require a whole new category. Let me hear from you.

The first category is one I'll call "culture crashing." The term isn't new with me, and I've heard it used by more than one commentator. If anyone knows who coined it, I'd like to know, because it covers a lot of ground. Culture crashing, in its strictest form, is a missionary no-no, and it refers to a missionary endeavor in which "Western civilization" and "Christianity" are solidly linked together. In other words, a culture crashing missionary, in sharing the gospel, also preaches and teaches that the people he ministers to must adopt Anglo-European styles of dress, conduct, language, worship, and social mores. Obviously some aspects of pagan societies may have to be modified if and when the community turns to Christ, but culture crashing does needless violence to an indigenous culture, and has been going on in the church since the Judaizing controversy chronicled in Paul's letter to the Galatians.

Culture crashing may be just as easily practiced by the pastor coming in to the traditional, well-established church. I suppose most of us have had our fantasies about starting our own churches, where we can have considerable influence in how things are done from the get-go, where we don't have to worry about resistance to change because there are no traditions, and where we never have to hear "we've never done it that way before." Then we wake up and remember how much work it is trying to start a church and how uncertain a future it is, and we go thankfully back to our established churches with steady bases of support.

We can't help envying, though, the exciting ways they do things in those newer churches, and we try, by various means, to mold our church to become more dynamic in worship, more fluid in organization, and more outwardly focused. We may use an autocratic leadership style, we may try to manipulate our people by heaping guilt on them, we may use subterfuge to make changes under the table and then present them with a fait accompli. We recognize that these newer methods have a better chance of delivering the gospel to today's society (that's one of the main reasons new churches grow so quickly, after all) and, in the interest of evangelism, we change our church to fit our program.

And boom, we've crashed a culture, and we're guilty of trespass against the church. (And, unfortunately, the church is often neither very understanding nor very forgiving of our good intentions, and we have to move on.) There are those who may disagree with me on this one, but I'm going to state very firmly here that when you come into a church with an existing culture you are bound by honor and ethics to respect that culture. If you want to start a church where you can do everything your own way, then go to it. Make the sacrifices, bear the burdens, pound the pavement, and make it happen. But do not go into an established church with the intention of taking a paycheck from them and using their facilities, their financial base, and their people to build the church you want. God is not honored by such insensitive and dishonest methods.

Which is not to say, of course, that the established church culture should never be changed. Often considerable change is needed before the church can fulfill its God-appointed mission, and many churches need to be trained in reaching out to the different cultures around them. But remember three things. 1. It is anti-missionary to change the culture just because it doesn't match your preferences. 2. It is your task to disciple them to reach others, not their obligation to provide you with a platform to grow your own innovative church and 3. Missionaries are able to make lasting and necessary changes in their fields by teaching and leading gently, winningly, and patiently, relying on the transforming power of the Holy Spirit and trusting in God's guidance.

The second major category of mistakes I like to call "instigating chaos" or just "warmongering." Let me give you a for instance here. Suppose a church is composed of an older core of members who give most of the money, hold most of the leadership positions, and have a very traditional mindset regarding how things are done, and a newer group who aren't as impressed by traditions and would, you know, like to see the worship service liven up a little bit. Maybe some guitars and praise choruses projected on the walls, that sort of thing. This particular for instance is pretty common in churches of my acquaintance.

And a young pastor (well, younger than most of the membership, anyway) comes into the church. There's no real culture to worry about crashing—sure, there's an established way of doing things, but a significant part of the membership isn't happy with it, so it could be argued that it doesn't reflect the overall church. The pastor is much closer as far as his own tastes go to the newer group, and he's got practical reasons for thinking that the church would grow if they were listened to, so he starts a course of action that leads to real conflict between the older and newer factions of the church, and the end result is civil war.

The pastor doesn't start out trying to do that, of course, and when it does happen he complains that there are some good folks in the church who'd like to get things done but the traditionalists have blocked everything. Things seem so much unhappier now than they did when he came, but he's managed to keep most of the hostility directed away from himself personally, as the two major groups in the church save their rancor for each other. He's not sure how things came to this pass.

I'm afraid I can tell him exactly how things came to this pass. In the five broad categories of churches we looked at in the first part of this book we assumed for simplicity's sake that they were all homogenous in character. Many change-resistant churches, however, have a small but significant minority of people, usually "newcomers," who aren't entirely satisfied with the prevailing culture or mindset of the church. There's often some modest friction between the two groups, but the passage of years will inevitably see a gradual transfer of power from the establishment to the newcomers, as the older members die out and the newer ones assume responsibility. So change does come about, albeit gradually.

However, a lot of trouble occurs when a pastor identifies with one group to the extent of viewing the other group or groups as the adversary, and begins encouraging his allies and strengthening them, seeing in them a way to fulfill his hopes to energize and invigorate the church. He becomes the hero to this newer group, and it enables him to neatly sidestep responsibility with the traditionalists by laying all the blame for the ruckus at the feet of the newcomers—"well, you know, younger people are going to want different things than we do." The end result is that the pastor, rather than being a peacemaker, has officiated at the onset of a civil war.

The pastor in this situation should have, although it would have been much more difficult and time-consuming, spent his efforts fostering dialogue, mutual respect, and appreciation between the contending sides. The church needs to move forward, yes, but it needs to move forward together. Sometimes pastors have to work with the members of the church who are amenable to doing something, but the pastor should never be responsible for allowing that to grow into conflict, nor should he duck his own contributions to the mess if it does get out of hand.

The third major category of mistakes, which we'll deal with very briefly, can be simply stated as giving up. This is the preacher who has come to the conclusion that his church is not going to change, and so he abdicates responsibility and lets it go its own way. Maybe he's tried some things and been badly burned, maybe he can foresee potential conflict if he pursues any real course of action, maybe he's just tired, but, whatever the reason, he drops back into the role of chaplain and allows the church to continue rudderless wherever the winds might take it.

The reason this is a mistake, and a common one at that, is that God has called the pastor to teach, lead, and disciple that congregation, and he is guilty before God of neglecting his duty if he just washes his hands of the whole affair. Too many pastors of my acquaintance have given in to the temptation to just say "they're hopeless," and follow the path of least resistance in their pastoral tenure. I'm certainly sympathetic, having followed my own fair share of unresisting paths, but we're called by God to lead His people to fulfill their tasks, and the Bible is full of examples of prophets and leaders who stood their ground and stayed faithful even in the face of opposition.

By the way, have you noticed how "I wash my hands of it" is used in popular culture to avoid all blame and responsibility? Have you ever remarked that, when Pilate washed his hands, it didn't diminish his guilt one iota? His sin was less than the Jewish leaders—Jesus Himself said so—but it was real nonetheless. Similarly, we cannot abdicate the leadership of our churches, as God will hold us accountable for our conduct. This is why "giving up" may be the greatest and most tragic mistake of all.

Chapter 13: Beginning Anew

Okay, you've been at your church for awhile, and you've tried some things that haven't worked so well. Or you're new at your church, and you're anxious not to try things that don't work so well. Or you're new at a church because you tried some things at your last church that didn't work so well. Where do you go from here? Let's start by assuming that you've done some things that have not helped your church's trust in you, and you'd like to restore that trust. I'd like to give you some very practical tips on starting over in your current church, hopefully with the intent of doing things right this time around.

If you don't have any negative history with your current church to overcome, then I'm extremely happy for you, and you can feel free to take this chapter's advice as preventive maintenance. There are three things we need to work on—paying the rent, mending fences, and building community. These are all vital habits for a pastor who wants to be a leader in his church.

"Paying the rent" means doing those things that the church expects, and doing them reasonably well. Most of us have a certain amount of discretion as to how we use our time, and we have different passions and different priorities. Furthermore, different churches have different ideas of exactly what they want from their pastor. There are four basics, however, which must be done and done well by any pastor: preaching, administration, visiting, and counseling. Let me emphasize this to you—the pastor who is perceived by his congregation to be conscientious and competent at these four areas can get away with a good bit regarding the rest of his ministry activity.

Preaching obviously refers to a man who takes his pulpit work seriously, who puts in the time and the labor to craft and deliver good sermons. Administration, at its most basic, is returning your phone calls, showing up for meetings on time, keeping up with your paperwork, and generally acting like a professional. Visiting is a major part of paying the rent in most smaller churches—I don't recommend getting by to see every shut-in every week, but the pastor needs to make a real effort to get to know and see his people in places and at times other than church on Sunday morning. Counseling means the pastor is available and concerned as to the problems and needs of his flock—it doesn't necessarily mean he's a trained counselor, but he needs to demonstrate that he cares about them. Hospital visits, weddings, and funerals are included in all this.

If you're in a church and you've neglected to pay some aspect of your rent, then let me assure you that the church will never willingly follow your leadership until they've seen you get serious about making up the shortfall. If you do those things that the church perceives as being the pastor's work, and do them well, then they will overlook a great deal of other shortcomings and will love and support you.

Okay, so now you're conscientiously tending to the basics of your job, but you've done some ill-advised things, or neglected some things, and there are a few people in the church that have some hard feelings towards you. Let's mend some fences. You need to do a little honest soul-searching and praying here. Is there anyone in your congregation who has a legitimate grievance against you? Are you guilty of insensitivity, neglect of duty, arrogance? If you are, then you have an obligation to seek forgiveness. On the other hand, are there people in your congregation with unfounded grievances against you? Are there relationships that need to be restored but you honestly haven't done anything wrong?

Be very careful with confession of wrongdoing—there are a lot of pastors out there who have suffered from attempts at reconciliation gone awry. If you are guilty of blatant sin against an individual, then, come what may, you don't have any real choice but to repent before them. If, however, your sin is inadvertent or mild, or if your trespass is against the church in general rather than any one person, or if you really haven't done anything wrong, then some other avenues need to be explored.

The one real danger, unfortunately, is that often there are some un-Christlike people in positions of influence in our churches, and any overtures to them will be interpreted as weakness, and will be used to cause trouble for the church and our ministry in it. I strongly advise using discretion before making yourself vulnerable to anyone likely to take advantage of it.

The pastor who wants to regain trust must, however, make some admissions of misunderstanding if not actual wrongdoing. Deacons' meetings, private meetings with a few key leaders, or even the pulpit itself can be used to say "there are some things I did not properly appreciate about the church when I came, and I've been guilty of insensitive conduct." Indications of a humble spirit can and will often go a long way towards restoring trust, and, of course, honest public repentance of sin (not just lip service to it) is the essence of Christianity. (I realize now that it was inappropriate to have flashing neon lights installed in the baptistry, and I'm so very sorry.)

It's not always helpful to go back over our years of ministry with a church and attempt to correct every misstep we've made along the way. Time is a great healer, and, generally, people forgive minor past infractions if the overall tendency now is positive. Keep paying the rent and give evidence of a genuine change of heart and a new sensitivity, and the people's trust in you will be greatly restored.

Okay, you've put some real thought, time, and effort into paying the rent, and you're working on mending fences, reestablishing trust, and essentially returning to the honeymoon period at your church. Now, I want to share with you very briefly a wonderful plan for building community in your church and establishing an excellent working relationship with the lay leadership in order to lay the groundwork to move forward. It's easy to understand, albeit not always easy to do.

I want you to be completely open and honest with certain lay leaders in your church. I'm about to throw a lot of disclaimers at you, and some organizational tips, but what I want for you to do is take the lead in building a vulnerable Christian community in your church in which you "carry one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." I want you to stop trying to be a Lone Ranger pastor. And, anyway, he had Tonto.

You need to start cultivating working ministry relationships with people in your congregation. I'm not suggesting you open up to that troublesome trustee whose salvation you frankly doubt. But find one leader in the church who you respect and the church respects and start with him or her, with the idea of going on to build other relationships as well. By the way, you don't have to agree with this person's views or philosophy, and it's not even absolutely necessary to like him. It's only essential to trust him and to be convinced of his wisdom and Christian maturity.

Once you've found this person, take the time, over coffee or something, to have a real conversation with him. You can start off by saying you've read this brilliant and insightful book by this Styron guy, and it's opened your eyes to some things. You can say you're not satisfied with how your ministry with the church has been going, and you want to explore some new directions.

Then, start finding out the leader's vision for the church, and start sharing your own vision for the church, being very careful to appreciate and validate the other point of view. If you've made mistakes, acknowledge them. If you're not sure how to proceed with leadership of the church, confess that. One disclaimer here—it is very important to a layman to be able to see competence in his pastor. There is a difference between confessing uncertainty and demonstrating inadequacy. Be competent and be informed, just avoid the impression that you think you know everything. (If you're not competent and everybody knows you're not competent, work on becoming so before you get too involved in this process.)

The key point to remember in this process is that a pastor frustrated with his church tends to view his congregation as adversaries, as impediments to getting done what the church need to get done. What you want is to change your own attitude, to view your adversaries as potential allies with whom you're just having a few difficulties of perception and misunderstanding.

What you're aiming for is a community of laypeople in your church who know that their pastor takes the time to understand them and respects their point of view and their values even if he doesn't necessarily agree with them on everything. You're looking for a community where nobody is hiding anything. Once people feel understood, particularly growing Christian people, they are much more open to understanding you. Furthermore, once you understand them, you are less likely to view them as obstacles to getting done what you want to accomplish, and more as partners and fellow-workers trying to determine the best way to do the work of the church.

This is not to say the church leaders may not have some unprofitable ideas or faulty paradigms that you'll have to correct. It's much better, though, to have built a relationship where you can say to a brother in Christ, "have you ever thought that maybe...?" and know that what you say will be prayerfully heard and considered than to stand up in the pulpit and proclaim, in essence, "you people are WRONG!" There may come a time for harsh rebuke, but that time is always after you've earned the right to be the leader of the church by your love, respect, and honesty with and towards your people.

Chapter 14: Moving Your Church to Change—Part 1

We'll hope at this point that you're making a priority of your own walk with the Lord and you've established (or reestablished) a good working and ministry relationship with key leaders in your congregation. It may very well be, and I hope it is, that just these steps are sufficient that you're beginning to see a thawing of the iceberg, and seeing some potential and willingness to maybe, possibly, potentially, not-promising-anything-you-understand, consider thinking about talking about perhaps someday making some modest changes in your church. If the light's at the end of the tunnel, then go get it! My work here is done.

If things still seem to be at a bit of an impasse, it's time to pull out the heavy artillery. How do you change a change-resistant church? You can't, actually. If they're bound and determined not to change, you can't change them. Usually, though, most people aren't hopelessly absolutely set in their ways. Start and always continue with prayer, because the Holy Spirit will be the author of anything good that happens anyway. The old saying "Pray like it all depends on God and work like it all depends on you" has a lot of truth to it.

There are two things you can do to lead people to change. First, and we'll explore this in this chapter, you can teach them how changing will get them what they desire. Second, which we'll look at in chapter 15, you can teach them how not changing will result in what they don't desire. Which tack you use will depend on your own church situation, and more than likely you'll need to combine both of them.

Let me ask you this. As the pastor, do you understand the viewpoint and values of your people? Put simply, do you know what they want and why they want it? Leading them to change involves understanding intimately where they are now. Never assume that your congregation sees things the way you do, because usually they don't.

In the Bible, Jesus' method of evangelism and discipleship was always to start where the people were and bring them along to where He needed them to be. The woman at the well needed to be challenged, the Pharisees needed to have their self-deceptions pricked, the sufferers needed to be healed and fed and comforted, all before they had any hope of moving towards the Christ. And even then, not everyone made the trip. Jesus had an understanding of people we can only marvel at, and He always began at the point of their felt needs, and then led them on from there.

We don't have the discernment of Christ, which is why it's so imperative that we, one, depend on the power of the Holy Spirit, and two, take the time and make the effort to truly get to know our people. The pastor needs to know his people's vision for the church. Why are they here? Why do they come? What do they want? What do they think the church needs? What are they willing to do to make it happen? Find the answers to these questions.

The five types of change-resistant churches should give you some convenient pigeon-holes in which to put people, but be wary of generalities. The satisfied church wants things to remain pretty much as they are. The members of the conflicted church want everyone else to come around to their own "correct" way of thinking. The lazy church wants the work of the church to continue while it stays in its own comfort zone. The dying church just wants to be cared for and not bothered. The short-sighted church is the most common type, and most church members fall into this category—they want to perpetuate the institution, to have an enjoyable and peaceful time at church, to see their children and grandchildren saved and active in the church, and to have the pews and the offering plate comfortably full. They may want some other things as well, but this tends to be the main motivating factor.

Insofar as you can with integrity, honor these desires in your church. What is wanted here is not bad. The church is good—it's where God is worshipped and His Word is proclaimed. And, you know, there's no harm with wanting the pews and the offering plates to be full, unless the good is standing in the way of the best. You may know that the desire is too small, you may know that the people aren't really willing to do the work necessary to achieve their desire, you may very well even know that the desire represents nothing more than a selfish drive to maintain a comfort zone, but, if the desire is in and of itself not a bad thing, then it is important to your leadership and to your people that you honor this desire. Not necessarily indulge it, but respect it, because you can't argue with wanting people to come to church to be challenged by the gospel and to worship God. You have to begin where your people are.

If you are going to make changes in your church, you are going to have to adjust your leadership style to match the situation. Always, always, pick your battles carefully. The young man in his first church tends to make big deals out of things that really don't matter much. Some things just aren't worth going to war over, and you have to prioritize your efforts. If there is something that your church values, and it does no real harm, then, even though it may not be all that beneficial, you may want to go along with it, and save the confrontations for things that count.

This runs counter to prophetic denunciation, I know. Many of us have visions of standing in the pulpit boldly proclaiming the truth and God following through with Spirit and power to transform the church overnight. We know in our heart of hearts that the desires of our church are lukewarm and feeble, and God wants so much more for them than their petty comfort zone. I will tell you, if God speaks to you out of a burning bush to urgently rebuke your people, go to it with vigor and boldness. He may be using you to bring a fiery revival to the church. Otherwise, pick your battles carefully. If you're not comfortable with the idea of gradual change, you're probably in the wrong church. True revival by its very nature is rare, and God has never brought one that wasn't short term. We must come down from the mountain and discipline ourselves to follow Him in the mundane and day-to-day. My experience suggests that gentle and cautious is usually the way to go.

Now, how do you use people's desires to bring them where they need to be? I don't know about the rest of you, but I've had very limited success in my ministry getting people to change by telling them that they ought to. There have been a few happy exceptions, but only when I was dealing with exceptionally mature Christians. For the most part, it's a lot safer and a lot gentler, and you get much more lasting results, by leading people to change by showing them they can achieve what they value by so doing.

There are no shortcuts in this process. You have to teach your people to value what is valuable. The only way to do that is to demonstrate, through your pulpit, your ministry, and your life, what is of worth. Time, the work of the Holy Spirit, and a steady diet of solid Biblical instruction coupled with good commonsense exhortation can create appetites in your people for that which is beneficial. Jesus commanded us in Matthew 11 to take His yoke upon us and learn from Him, to partner with Him and follow Him about His work. We must follow Christ, and draw our people to follow us. It is in learning to follow Jesus that they will learn to want what Jesus wants.

Human nature is to want things without wanting to pay the price or do the work to achieve the goal. You have to teach your people of the foolishness of this—everything worth having comes with a cost. Do your people want greater attendance? You have to teach them that they have to love the people, go where they are, speak the language they speak, and meet them where their felt needs are. Do your people want peace in their church? You have to teach them that they who want peace must be peacemakers. Do they just want to sit and watch others do the work? You have to teach them that God rewards faithful stewardship and service but will not respect selfishness or laziness.

Are they concerned mainly with preserving the building and the bank balance? Teach them that God provides for the needs of His people, but that He expects them to use His blessings to do His work.

Are your people short-sighted? Do they want what seems to them to be modest and attainable aims that you are convinced are not profitable goals for the church? You have to have a new vision to substitute for the faulty one—involve your mature leaders in dreaming of what God might want to do with this church. Teach them that God doesn't follow man's plans and that His desires are greater and more exciting than anything we could come up with. You have to teach them to know, appreciate, and trust the God Who guides His church before you can expect them to give up their manmade dreams and desire what God desires for them.

Never rush things unless there is urgent need. Your pulpit is invaluable in gradually changing the sensibilities of your congregation, but don't use the sermon as a time to beat people over the head with what they ought to be doing. If stewardship is a problem, don't preach sermon after sermon on stewardship until the problem is resolved. Include stewardship as part of a balanced teaching program, and so forth. The idea is to educate your people, slowly, subtly, and gently, as to what being the church means. Excite them about the possibilities. Always remember, you are there to help them grow as disciples. If they are at all teachable, then teach them. Awaken their desires, and show them what they must do to achieve those desires.

Chapter 15: Moving Your Church to Change—Part 2

So you've attempted to get your church leadership and influential members to change by trying to instill in them, by every means possible, a desire for the best God has for them and by trying to teach them what they must do to achieve that desire. What happens, then, if you have a person who simply isn't teachable by ordinary exhortation, no matter what kind of time and effort you put into it, his desires are in irreconcilable conflict with the needs of the church, and he is in a position where ignoring him and moving around him simply isn't an option? Well, then, regrettably, you might find you have to motivate him using the fear of consequences.

We're inspired to change when we foresee unpleasant consequences coming our way as a result of our present course. We seek to avoid the consequences. You can do this as part of courting desire, of course—if you change, these good things can happen. If you don't change, these good things won't happen and these bad things will. There are two types of negative consequences that can occur as the result of unprofitable courses of action. One, which you'll be hopefully able to educate your church about, is what we might call the logical consequences—cause and effect, events that follow naturally as a result of inaction or incorrect action. The other type of negative consequences is what may be called inflicted consequences—if you stand in the way of the church's greater good, the church will take steps to deal with you. For the pastor, this second consequence usually takes the form of direct confrontation.

For the fear of consequences to have the power to motivate change, you have to be able to educate your people that their actions or attitudes are counter-productive. That is, that which they are doing is leading away from, rather than towards, that which they desire. In the short-sighted church particularly you are looking for a breakthrough in understanding. What they think they want is not what they should want, but never mind that right now. What they want to do is not going to get for them what they want to have.

As an example, let's talk about trying to get inactive members back in the church. We mentioned this way back in chapter 2, and a lot of churches want to get their inactive members back in. It's a grief, and a very real and understandable one, to have church members, particularly family members, quit coming. The church then focuses an inordinate amount of time, energy, and concern at bringing the lost sheep back into the fold. I have seen it happen where inactive members did come back in and get back involved, and it's a beautiful thing. I have also known of inactive members who came back in and then left again fairly quickly and with lots of hurt feelings all around because the underlying issues related to their leaving were never addressed. In most cases, however, (I wish I had statistics to back this up, but, from personal experience and knowledge, 90% is probably not far off the mark), people who have become inactive stay inactive, or start attending other churches.

Church members who are focussed on getting the "inactives" back need to learn that, nine times out of ten, it isn't going to achieve the results they want. Furthermore, they need to be frightened with the fact that, while they're trying to get the inactives back in, the prospects that could be filling the pews of their church are slipping through their fingers. Don't teach them to give up on the inactives, because I don't believe you ever really should, but teach them of what they're likely to miss out on if they ignore what God might have for them in favor of what they've decided they need.

I'm not a big advocate of frightening people, but sometimes it's the only way to shake them out of their complacency. Preach an occasional sermon on heavenly rewards, and how God is going to judge us based on our actions down here. Teach them that if they don't change to reach the people who are living in the community now, then in 20 years there won't be anybody coming to the church at all. (That's probably not true, as churches are amazingly durable things, but I'll let you exaggerate for effect. Jesus used hyperbole all the time.) Preach about the churches in Revelation, and teach about Christ judging them for their results. Talk about evangelism and missions, and preach about the lost and hell and the duties of the Christian. If they're already moving, don't frighten them for fear's sake, but, if nothing else works, scare them a little.

The second type of consequences, inflicted, is up to you and the church leadership to make happen. Sometimes you'll have people who, no matter what other avenues you've tried, will not budge, and they're in the way. No matter what change you propose, they're against it, and they're in a position where they can exercise veto power, whether formal or informal. They don't agree with you, they're not scared of you, they don't have to do what you say, and the rest of the church has let them get away with it thus far. They can stop change from occurring, and you'll never make progress until you deal with them.

It's time to bring out the big gun—direct confrontation. I'm not talking about open and honest communication. You should have laid the groundwork for that and been practicing that already, and practicing mutual accountability with your church leadership on a regular basis. I'm talking about using the authority of the church to motivate certan stubborn persons to change by instilling in them a fear of being disciplined by that authority.

In my tradition, the pastor of the church has virtually no real power. It's possible to obtain considerable influence, but it has to be earned, and authority unfortunately doesn't come with the call to the church. Power has to be acquired, by much patient paying of the rent, demonstrated competence and integrity, and dedication to the ministry and future of the church. Pastoral authority, once acquired, can be used to directly bring about changes, but it needs to be done sparingly and usually as a last resort.

If a member of your church is an absolute impediment to getting anything done, and you've exhausted your other options, have a private meeting with him. Schedule it, and give him at least a rough idea beforehand what you want to talk about. Seek first to understand him, then seek to have him understand you. Express your concerns that his attitude or actions are getting in the way of what you believe needs to be done with the work of the church, and ask him to submit his private preferences or convictions to the overall work of the church.

If he submits, well and good, and you may have made a valuable ally. If not, you have to decide whether to bring your needs to the next level of organization or just leave bad enough alone. Oh, and never bluff in church work. Don't say you're going to take any course of action unless you're prepared to take it, let the chips fall where they may.

Obviously you'll have to have a well-established trust foundation with the church to go any higher than a one-to-one confrontation, or the decision could go against you. The deacons will often have the authority, at least unofficially, to work around a difficult church member. If worst comes to worst, church business meetings can be used to remove an individual from his positions of authority and influence. Make sure you do your homework, can answer all reasonable objections, and can demonstrate that you've tried every other possible avenue before coming to this.

Warning. Warning. Warning. Confrontation of any kind has considerable potential to backfire, and I don't recommend it lightly. There are occasions, though, when you may have to use it. I wish I could tell you it's always effective, but it isn't. I have been to meetings where confrontation has been used and people have stormed out in a tantrum, cutting off any possibility of reconciliation. I have confronted people myself, been (I'm pretty sure) deliberately misunderstood, and had my own name dragged through the mud. I have known of individuals who have left churches in a huff and dragged people with them. Even worse, I have known of individuals who have been challenged and have dedicated themselves to staying in a church and becoming a persistent thorn in the pastor's side.

Take heart, though. I have also used this tool, and known of it being used, when an adversary became a staunch supporter—it can work. I have known of churches that have had to remove individuals from office, have survived the aftermath, and have gone forward. I have known of churches that have lost disgruntled individuals and families, have more than made up the loss with newcomers, and have gone on to a dynamic new life and vigor. Use confrontation very sparingly, but, if it's the only way to make needed changes in your church, then don't be afraid of it, because it can bring about real and positive change.

The one advantage, I suppose you'd call it, to motivating by fear in this manner is that, once you've had to take one person firmly in hand and been successful at it, no one else wants it to happen to them, and you'll often find you have much less trouble with obstinate people. However, if you find yourself in one of those situations where it has become a matter of course to deal roughly with people, put on the brakes. It doesn't matter how well it works, confrontation on this level should never be taken lightly. You run the risk of treating casually the feelings and values of a person for whom Christ died.

Chapter 16: When All Else Fails

Picture with me once again a weary pastor sitting in his study. In the past couple of years he's read a lot of books on transforming the church, or revitalizing the church, or leading the church to change, or restoring healthy church relationships, or what have you. He's kept reading, hoping against hope that maybe this next one contains the key to success in what has been, so far, a very frustrating pastorate. He's come down to chapter 16 in this book, and he's recognized himself, and he's recognized his church, and hopefully he's had a few laughs, but every tool, every trick, every method, mindset and attitude that has been suggested so far he's either already doing without result or he has very good reason to conclude won't work in his situation.

If you're there, my heart goes out to you. You've been unable to lead your church to change and, at this point in time, you are the expert on your church. If you say nothing you've read so far will do a bit of good in your pastorate, I'm prepared to believe you (although if you've been there less than three weeks I might question whether you were giving it a fair chance.) You've no doubt been tempted to leave the ministry, perhaps even wondered if you were supposed to be in the ministry in the first place. Not my place to say—I'd have to know you a lot better. But don't ever take discouragement in your current work as irrefutable evidence that you're not in God's will. Study Elijah's life sometime.

Okay, so you've got people in your church in key positions of leadership or influence that are just flat impossible to work with, they're blocking every single thing you're trying to do, and nothing's going to get done unless they change. Which they won't. You're convinced of this, and you're more than likely right. You've got three options at this stage of your pastorate. One, hang on and hope for a miracle, two, hang in and resign yourself to the current situation, or, three, make plans to leave with your head held high. Miracles are rare—make sure God is promising you one. Resigned attitudes are for those who are without hope—we have the greatest Hope of all and the Lord of Glory in our corner. Leaving with your head held high—sometimes you have to do that.

In this, the last chapter of my attempts to give you some encouragement and advice, I'd like to talk to you about when it's time to walk away. But don't despair—this is not a chapter on admitting defeat, nor is it one on giving up on the church. In these last few paragraphs I'd like to remind you about the God Whose sovereign plan sometimes takes us through some strange territory.

First and foremost, let's dispense with the idea that leaving a church is admitting failure. I am an advocate of lengthy pastorates, and I really don't see how much lasting good at a church can be done in less than five to seven years minimum. I know one fellow who's had seven different pastorates in twenty-five years, and I'm starting to think it hasn't all been the fault of the churches that things haven't worked out.

Having said that, none of us owns the churches that we happen to pastor—we just keep them in stewardship for awhile, and I have known of a number of instances where I am absolutely convinced the pastor stayed too long. The ideal tenure of course varies from situation to situation—there may be churches where eight-month pastorates are beneficial. All of that is to say that there comes a time when it is in God's will to leave a church, and that means that leaving a church is not necessarily failure.

I'd like to suggest three truths that are relevant when it's time to leave a particular place of ministry. 1. It's time to leave when God has something else for you to do. 2. It's time to leave when you've accomplished everything at this church that you're going to get done and 3. It's time to leave when God has something else in mind for the church. I'd like to explore these with you just a little bit.

It may be time to leave when God has something else for you to do. The Bible is full of examples of ministers who moved around—Paul, Peter, John, the other apostles, Bartholomew, Timothy, the evangelist Philip, and even Jesus Himself didn't stay in one place any great length of time when He began His earthly ministry. You may not have changed the church, but assuredly the church has changed you. You've grown, matured, learned some things the hard way, made some mistakes, done some things right. You're not the pastor you were when you came.

God is always about the business of using you where you are now and at the same time preparing you for your next task. Joshua went from slave to spy to aide-de-camp to military commander to leader of Israel. God may have revealed to you that it's time to move to another place. You didn't start out in the new place because, five or ten years ago, you couldn't have handled it. God has used this church as your schooling ground for your next place of service.

It may be time to leave when your work here at this church is done. No doubt you've made some mistakes, and you may have made some that you really can't recover from, and it's time to step down and let someone without your baggage take a turn at it. Maybe you've carried the church as far as you can on your gifts, and it's time to let someone else come in and bring them to places you can't. It may very well be that you can't change the church but someone else can.

A warning on pastoral pride and ego. I know ministers who have left churches and have seen their successors enjoy tremendous growth and vitality in the congregation they themselves couldn't alter. That's not always a pleasant thing, particularly if some less-than-tactful person makes a point of praising the new pastor excessively. I say to you, rejoice regardless. It may be that you prepared the ground and someone else came in to enjoy the harvest. It may be that your own leadership abilities are modest and that the next fellow has unusual leadership ability and genuinely could do what you couldn't. God remains the author of the work, and He will see to it that credit goes where credit is due. Which, by the way, should intimidate us a bit when we anticipate Judgment Day. To Him be all the glory when things go well.

It may also be time to leave when God reveals that He has plans for the church's future that don't include you. I knew one pastor of a change-resistant church who said, and several more who probably thought, "I think God put me in that church to hold its funeral service." He was, as you may guess, very frustrated with his inability to get anything substantial done. The church is still a going concern, although it hasn't changed much, but the pastor left for greener pastures years ago. I hope he's doing okay—I've lost touch with him.

Most churches, even traditional, change-resistant ones, have been used by God mightily over the years. The vast majority of churches I'm familiar with have been around a lot longer than I've been alive and will no doubt continue, should the Lord tarry, long after I've graduated to Heaven. During their lives, imperfect, sinful, self-centered, and pastor-frustrating as they may be, they've been sanctuaries where the gospel has been preached and men, women, and children have had encounters with the living Lord. In the dance it may be time for you to change partners, but God has work yet for that church to do, and this is the time He has ordained for the change to occur.

So, when you leave, leave convinced that this parting of the ways is in accordance with the will of God and therefore, painful as it may be, a good thing. We serve a sovereign Lord, and He is working all things together for His purposes. If the Cross, in all its horror and tragedy, can be God's instrument of glorious redemption for the human race, then a little thing like a relocation (or even a termination, and I wouldn't wish that on any minister) should be no problem at all for Him to bring something of eternal beauty out of.

So, how do you leave a church? I'm not actually the best person to ask. I've only left three churches, and only two of them voluntarily, and I'm not entirely happy with how I handled those. I can offer you a little bit of counsel just from observation, but go talk to a wiser older minister for better advice on this matter. Don't take out your frustrations on the church before you go. Don't tell them you're leaving because of them. Even if it's true, don't worry, they already suspect it. Don't try to correct all the things you see wrong in one last volley of parting shots. God has the church in hand, and, if He's calling you to leave, the church isn't your concern anymore.

If possible, leave with someplace positive to go to. Leaving without a destination, or leaving the ministry for secular work, may occasionally be necessary (so I certainly can't tell you not to do it), but I will tell you that it's hard on a church to feel their pastor was so desperate to get out that he would take anything. Never, ever, ever threaten to leave unless you're planning to go. The announcement of resignation will always be traumatic, and nothing you can do will make it easy, so don't go to absurd lengths to ease the blow. Be tactful and considerate, but don't make too big a production about it.

You may have reached the moment in your walk with this particular church when there must be, in God's will and perfect timing, a parting of the ways. This does not make you a failure, and it does not make the church a failure. God has a plan and a future for you both. In your next church home, whether pastor, staff member, or layperson, go in with the intention of doing everything in your power to honor Jesus Christ the Lord of the Church. You're wiser, smarter, and stronger than you were when you came to your last church, (which is good, because in God's economy it'll probably prove to be a more challenging assignment), and you're prepared to get some real work done for God's kingdom. Go to it, and I leave you in His capable hands.

AFTERWORD

I love the whole idea of "afterwords." What, like the book's not finished? The end of the last chapter wasn't the end of the book? If you had something else to say, why didn't you stick it in another chapter? Beats me, but a lot of books have afterwords, so I thought I'd write one.

An editor may clean up this part, but, you know, I really appreciate your giving "Just Out for a Walk" a chance. It's the first book I've ever written, and it's a funny feeling now, as I write this, wondering if anybody other than a few close friends who owe me favors (I have blackmail material on them) will ever read it.

I can't make any great claims to wisdom. What little I do know about church work I've mainly learned because a lot of people were gracious enough to let me make mistakes on them, or a lot of friends in the ministry were kind enough to share with me the results of the mistakes they'd made. I guess if I had one piece of advice to close out with it would be that, through God's grace, you can survive mistakes.

I share your frustration of being in a situation where it seems as though you've got people almost deliberately misunderstanding your intentions and your actions. I hope I've been of some comfort and encouragement to you.

Let me end by saying that I'm praying for everyone who reads this book. I pray that you may keep praying, that you may never lose sight of the Lord God our Maker, our Redeemer, and our Sustainer. I'm not going to preach to you, as you've heard it before, but may you remember that He is always the one true source of wisdom and strength.

Philippians 4:13—I can live victoriously through any frustrating church situation through Christ who gives me strength. Pretty loosely translated, but the truth is in there.

God bless.

About the Author

The Rev. Dr. Henry Styron doesn't know anybody who calls him that, and his friends call him Henry. He's written and e-published a few things, and is working on more, but this is the first book he's ever written from start to finish. It was a labor of love, from twelve years spent pastoring change-resistant churches, and counting lots of pastors of such churches among his friends and colleagues in the ministry. He's served churches in West Virginia, Virginia, and North Carolina, and currently lives in Hendersonville, NC, with his family. He can often be found at the church, sometimes at the local theater or library, and occasionally on Facebook. He gives all glory for any good results from this book to his Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, blessed be His name forever.
