Page 5281 – Christianity Today (2024)

From around the corner I heard raised voices.

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

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

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

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

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

Ergocentricity shows up in a variety of situations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—Calvin Ratz

Abbotsford (British Columbia)

Pentecostal Assembly

Copyright © 1986 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

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

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

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

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

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

The Local Ministerium

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

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

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

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

Here are the needs I see our fellowship meeting:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A More Intimate Fellowship

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What Makes a Successful Ministers’ Group

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WHY MINISTERS NEED EACH OTHER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Boyce Mouton

Christian Church

Carl Junction, Missouri

Copyright © 1986 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

David and Beverly stood in the doorway of the adult Sunday school class and looked over a sea of unfamiliar faces. Beverly had coaxed for weeks to get David there. Their first child was due in four months, and Beverly wanted that child to have a church home. David kept citing a bad experience with “religious people,” but he was finally willing to try church again since they had just moved to this area.

Maybe this time I’ll meet some nice people, David thought.

Maybe this time, Beverly prayed, someone in there will introduce David to Jesus.

I shudder to think how many Davids and Beverlys visited our class and walked away with needs unmet. We didn’t realize it, but we weren’t giving them a chance.

Our pastor first noticed the problem. He called one evening and asked if I would join him for breakfast at a local restaurant. “Sure,” I said. “What’s up?”

“We need to talk about the couples class.”

I wasn’t sure what he was driving at. Our class was well established; it had existed for fifteen of our church’s thirty-five years, and I had taught or co-taught the group for eight years. If anything, we were typical. I took up the offering and taught a Bible lesson. My wife, Judy, did everything else.

As we met that morning, the pastor pointed out that slowly, almost imperceptibly, our class was losing attendance. In a year’s time our average attendance had dropped from twenty-five to twenty.

“Growth occurs on the edges,” he said, “and you’re not taking in new people.” I didn’t have any answers, but then, neither did the pastor. In the following months, however, as we prayed about and pondered the situation, we came to several conclusions.

Know thy purpose

We had begun a guest book several months earlier. As Judy and I examined it, we realized many people had visited, but we didn’t recognize any of the names. None had ever returned! As a matter of fact, we couldn’t think of any regular attenders who had been coming less than three years.

Why not? I worked hard on those Bible lessons. Our group seemed to enjoy studying God’s Word and praying together.

We thought about what makes visitors come and realized it is usually because they have tried the worship hour, liked it, and are looking for deeper involvement. Bible study happens many places, but accepting new members begins in Sunday school.

Judy and I set a goal: have one visitor feel accepted and return. We defined acceptance as never having to feel or say, “I’m an outsider.” With this in mind, we began to see contradictions between what we wanted and what we did.

Intimate or accepting?

The class cannot be intimate and accepting at the same time, we found.

Our format felt comfortable. People entered and sat in a semicircle. We took an offering and asked for announcements, typically someone’s illness and the need for a few meals to be brought over. Someone else often shared a recent answer to prayer. This led into conversational prayer and thanksgiving. Next, we turned to our Bible lesson, continued from the previous week. We closed with prayer.

Our regular attenders enjoyed the format and grew spiritually with it. But if we wanted to accept newcomers, something had to change. Our pastor asked one man why he and his wife didn’t attend our class. The man shook his head. “I can’t go in there again. They pray out loud. I can’t do that.” That man didn’t feel comfortable praying by himself, much less eavesdropping on the prayers of people he didn’t know.

Intimacy among old-timers is desirable, but the visitor calls it a clique. We decided to sacrifice intimacy if it prevented an accepting atmosphere. We knew scolding the regular attenders would not help. So we began to experiment with the class format.

We arranged the chairs in small circles and noticed an immediate change in attendance. We leaped from an average of twenty to twelve. If David and Beverly had walked through the door then, they would have been afraid to sit anywhere. If they began a circle, they would have had to sweat it out waiting for someone else, a stranger, to sit by them. On the other hand, if others were already seated, David and Beverly would fear taking the seats next to someone waiting for an old friend. We returned to the “one big arch” arrangement but with something learned. There are levels of fellowship, and I was asking the people for too much commitment too soon.

Acceptance one step at a time

Acceptance comes when the class offers natural steps to involvement. We created a progression, repeating it each week in case other newcomers dropped in.

1. We began with no one seated. A person walking in would see people standing and sipping coffee or tea, talking from behind the protective shield of a Styrofoam cup. At the call to order, everyone chose seats (from multiple rows) at the same time.

2. We required no previous experience with the group. Prearranged announcements covered only upcoming events and programs. The lesson began with humor but not inside jokes; locking a visitor out of the punch line is fatal to growth.

We found singing worked poorly with fewer than thirty, because each person perceived his or her voice as too conspicuous. When we did sing, we kept songs simple and made words available, often displaying them up front so newcomers weren’t the only ones looking at the words.

The lessons did not require knowledge from the previous week. For serial topics, we began each lesson by summarizing salient points from the previous lessons.

3. We required no previous experience with the Bible. The text was stated at the beginning of the lesson. Once people realized they needed Bibles, we offered them to everyone who did not have them, with the day’s key verse already marked.

For those who had brought Bibles, we briefly explained how to find the key verse. The first time I explained that Psalms was in the middle of the Bible, one of our regulars laughed. But now our old-timers realize the person next to them truly may not know.

We geared questions to opinion, personal experience, or what could be answered solely from the morning’s text.

4. We prepared people for greater participation. I asked people to form small circles only after they had milled around, chosen seats, and heard some content. And first I would instruct each person to be prepared to give first and last name and to answer a simple question about himself or herself. By having a few seconds to prepare their comments, people were not as apprehensive about starting conversations.

We had people jot their thoughts before we asked them to share with the five or six people they’d just met. Only then did we ask for volunteers to answer the question before everyone As a result, timid people began speaking up more. Sometimes we’d hear, “Mark had a good answer. Go ahead, Mark. Tell him what you told us.”

5. We discouraged natural group selection. We formed circles by various methods-parts of town the attenders were from, or birthdays. This kept old friends from clustering at the expense of newcomers.

6. We offered other avenues for meeting needs of deeper intimacy and Bible study. Regular attenders were encouraged to participate in supplemental Bible studies. We handled intimate prayer requests through auxiliary prayer chains. We invited people to join groups of four couples that would get together once a month for three months. After a while, 50 percent of the regular attenders were participating continuously.

7. We encouraged regulars to develop a ministry mentality. Once every five or six weeks we discussed how to help newcomers: What help do people need when new in town? What would make a newcomer comfortable in a crowd of strangers? Why do we structure the class this way? A new couple that Sunday would catch us talking about them, but the subject was how much we wanted them. Over the door of the classroom we placed the following acrostic: TTDCTFLOOC. It stands for “Through this door come the future leaders of our church.” Regulars know they can no longer assume the person in the next chair is even a believer.

Our class grew

The class may have thought it was just another Sunday the first week a visitor returned, but Judy and I saw it as God’s answer to our prayer. During the following months, we had to bring in more chairs. Our average weekly attendance began to climb about 10 percent each month. Within five months, attendance averaged about thirty. Now one year has passed, and we share God’s Word with sixty or seventy each week. During that year, 80 percent of class visitors returned. Some have not returned, of course, and some regular attenders have left, but for every attender lost we have gained four.

If growth had been in numbers only, we could claim no real gain. But our regular attenders began looking for opportunities to reach out to others and take an interest in their spiritual needs. Remember the man who said he couldn’t pray aloud? He attends now, and recently he told Judy and me how he led his son in prayer for salvation.

Some might object, “But people don’t like changes in our church.” Remember, our class was in a rut worn fifteen years deep. Even established classes can change.

Others might object, “But we have no visitors.” We were fortunate to have occasional drop-ins. One person told me that until recently he had never been motivated to bring friends. “Why expose them to a situation you know they won’t like?” An accepting atmosphere helps people risk bringing a friend.

As the class has grown, more people have become involved by necessity. That, too, makes the class more meaningful to them. Before the change, Judy and I got tired of doing everything. Now, about 30 percent of the attenders help by bringing refreshments or leading outside Bible studies. People volunteer when they see their efforts will count. We first had to demonstrate that something was happening, that our class had a purpose. We’ve focused ours on acceptance.

“You know,” said David as he and Beverly left the class after visiting a few weeks ago, “that guy who sat next to me has the same carburetor problem with his car. I want to talk to him next week.”

-Don Michael McDonald

Community Bible Church

San Bernardino, California

Copyright © 1986 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

The following ad appeared recently in a Kansas daily: “We will oil your sewing machine and adjust the tension in your home for only $1.” I can well imagine the flood of phone calls this company received. Where in our world exists the home without tension?

Where is there a church family without at least some tension? And where tension erupts, the need is for gentle but firm discipline.

Before you write this off as another sermon on the “thou shalts” of disciplining church members, let me confess that exercising discipline makes me as shaky as a woodpecker on a petrified tree.

I come by my quaking honestly. I learned in schoolyard “conflict resolution sessions” that my pain threshold was reached with the first punch. I carefully avoided stepping on toes or making a scene, even when Ross Spina, the local bully, extorted my lunch money. From then on, I decided that playing the enforcer was for fiery preachers and IRS agents. That, most likely, is why God in his infinite sense of humor made me one of those preachers.

When I look at the Scriptures on church discipline, the story of Ananias and Sapphira is one of my favorites. Can’t you picture Peter and the others the day those two pulled the real estate scam at the congregational meeting? God’s discipline was, uh, executed most efficiently. The apostles didn’t have to agonize over what they were going to do. God made the decision for them. But I wonder how long it took the apostles to realize God was making a point, not stamping a pattern.

The Bible certainly contains the principles upon which creative discipline must be based, but using this incident to determine disciplinary technique becomes slippery. What if God struck dead every liar, gossip, cheat, swindler, or adulterer? That would clear out my church! We can thank our merciful Lord that we don’t all drop dead.

Since God does not impose immediate capital punishment in every case, I must learn to use other disciplinary methods. I’ve got to learn to neither avoid discipline nor take it too far. With the threat of lawsuits in our litigious society, we need to think through creative alternatives; we certainly can do better than “boot ’em out and lock the door.”

As I wend my way through the day-to-day tensions of church life, I find the discipline of church members demands as much creativity as the discipline of children-if not more. Creativity is the action of the Spirit of God leading us through situations that are not always cut and dried. When I’m about ready to scream, “God, why don’t they all drop dead?” I begin to rummage in the store of creative solutions I’ve found.

Prayer Closet Confrontations

In Luke 22 Jesus says to Peter, “Satan has asked to sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.” In this passage, Jesus uses an often-overlooked tool for discipline: the prayer closet confrontation.

Many forces are at work in any instance of disobedience and sin. In Peter’s case, his pride would soon cause him to sleep through a prayer meeting, deny his Lord, and blow a great chance to witness in the courtyard of the high priest. Jesus was praying that when the wheat was sifted, Peter would be strong enough to learn from it all. His prayer was the life line that pulled Peter through.

A friend of mine invited an evangelist to conduct a week of meetings in his church. On the final day, the evangelist decided to change his message and deliver a sermon on holiness, but my friend considered the issue too touchy to allow. Several weeks later he received a letter from that evangelist: “I have been praying that soon you will stop resisting the Holy Spirit and let him have control of your life.”

The interval between the last meeting and the arrival of the letter had been a period of wretched despondency. The letter and the prayers had their effect, and a while later, my friend told me he’d stopped trying to manipulate the atmosphere in his church and he was surrendering his life and future to the Spirit.

It’s easy to play armchair quarterback in matters of discipline. I can see all the changes others should make, even if I’d be paralyzed by indecision if I had to play the actual position. I’m learning (slowly) that I can start getting into the game by prayer. And on some occasions, a prayerful response may keep me out of the games where I’m not needed.

The value of praying for those needing discipline is at least threefold: First, during this time of prayerful waiting, God may allow more facts to surface that will help me deal with the situation. Second, as I pray, I have an opportunity to clear the log out of my own eye. Third, since God responds to faith-filled prayer, I may not need to do anything more, and that’s what I’d prefer, anyway.

Two years ago, one of our elders began a Bible study in his home. He started teaching doctrines I taught against. I didn’t mind his believing those ideas; I just found it difficult to have a church leader laying out a system of truth different from what I taught. I fretted and fumed over the impending confrontation until one night, after fasting all day, God led me to pray that this man would give up the study.

Three days later he came into my office and told me he was voluntarily disbanding the study. He felt it might be dividing the body. We jointly confessed some wrong attitudes we had been carrying around. He now accepts my leadership and is a vocal supporter. And I am rethinking some of his doctrines I thought I had nailed down. God sifted us both.

Homework Assignments

Few professions match the risk of a connector in the construction industry. A connector’s job is to walk the ten-inch girders and stand at the corner as a multi-ton beam comes swinging his direction. As it slows down, he must grab it, shove it into place, and bolt it tight. It’s not a job for the careless or timid.

Connectors have a unique system for disciplining apprentice workers who get too cocky or too timid. The other workers will grab the offender’s boots and throw them on the roof of an adjacent building. Then they rig a plank for him to walk across to retrieve his footwear. They’ll repeat the procedure until the offender changes his ways (or falls to the pavement, whichever comes first). The beauty of this aerial method of discipline is that it teaches a skill while correcting an attitude.

The business of serving God is as precipitous as constructing skyscrapers. Since we are commissioned to watch out for one another, we are wise to train one another in the perils we face. Those who ignore the dangers or who have overstepped the boundaries of God’s Word need discipline in a manner not unlike that given to connectors.

Homework helps are creative modes of discipline that keep the wayward ones active and learning instead of cast out and defeated.

In college, I exuded all the attributes of a freshman; I was brash, unashamed, ignorant, and foolhardy. On a lark, four of us armed ourselves with a messy mixture of molasses and honey, which we slopped on every doorknob, banister, and toilet seat in the girls’ dorm. We made our way back to our beds in gallant confidence.

But we were found out. Some students and members of the faculty wanted us expelled, but the disciplinary decree was for us to do forty hours of work for the maintenance department.

Cleaning out an overflowed sump hole, I had plenty of time to think not only about my prank but also about my relationship with God, who showed me that the sewage I was hauling resembled the kind of product my life was producing. I credit part of my present walk with God to what I learned through that creative discipline.

It is one thing, however, to discipline students who have a ten-thousand-dollar investment in their education but quite another to hand out homework to a church member who might not be as motivated to cooperate.

I initially tried this idea on a woman who had been creating chaos in several personal relationships. I gave her the menial chore of keeping my file cabinet orderly, thinking I could monitor her work to help teach her consistency. Right away, two disconcerting things occurred. The woman stopped coming to church because I was “treating her like a kid,” and our secretary threatened to resign under the false assumption she, too, was being disciplined.

I decided my ideas could bear some modification. These folks were adults with sensitive egos. As James Dobson puts it, I had to “shape their wills without breaking their spirits.”

I soon had another chance. One of our youth sponsors got in trouble with the law. It turned out, fortunately, I was the only one in the church who knew about it. The fellow came to me in tears, asking for help in getting his life together. I told him I would counsel him on two conditions: I wanted him to resign as youth sponsor, but I also wanted him to continue helping by driving for the young people whenever they needed drivers. He agreed wholeheartedly and did the job well. Now, several years later, he is once again serving as a youth sponsor.

The key was timing and approach. As people in trouble admit their need, I try to respond tenderly. Once they feel assured of my sincerity, I suggest ways they can be useful during their recovery. I present the tasks to them as spiritual therapy, even writing an “Rx” on the assignment sheet as a private joke. They like the idea of leaving the pastor’s office with a “prescription.” It gives them a concrete first step toward restoration.

A Sequence of Suspension

In his autobiography, Lee Iacocca tells about being fired by Henry Ford. As Iacocca relates it, Ford employed some rather dubious means to “disemploy” him, finally letting him go with the classic evasion: “Things just haven’t worked out.”

When Iacocca moved to Chrysler, he vowed never to deal that way with a human being. He decided if anyone appeared to warrant firing, he would seek every possible way first to retain him, and then, if all else failed, to tell him the straight reasons-in person.

In many churches today, the response to moral crises, if anything, is often complete removal from office and even expulsion from the fellowship. I’ve resolved to seek methods to save members rather than segregate them. That’s where a suspension-a temporary stoppage-may be the answer.

When I worked on the railway one summer, our gang was called to the site of a horrendous derailment. The flaming contents of six spilled chemical cars had burned every piece of wood on a steel-and-timber railroad bridge. All trains had to be stopped as we feverishly worked to bring things back to normal. What a mess would have been created if trains had tried to run as usual over the span; what a waste if the railway had declared financial dissolution over this temporary setback.

The same holds true for correcting God’s people. I have found a temporary imposition of discipline will go much further towards restoration and recovery than permanent expulsion. The removal of all involvements on a temporary basis can strengthen weak legs.

Recall what God did after Moses’ initial attempt to liberate Israel; he arranged a forty-year stint in the sheep business for his servant. But it was always God’s intention to bring Moses back into leadership. The sojourn was critical to develop in Moses the proper attitude with which to lead some obstinate “sheep” through a perilous wilderness.

Ideally, a temporary suspension gives the individual time to consider life without the static of church responsibilities. With the right attitudes, this time of sober contemplation proves effective. But what happens if the person gets worse instead of better? Then more stringent discipline is needed to correct malignant actions.

But before I implement those tougher measures, I want the church to understand the difference between release and revenge. As emotions begin to flow, the distinction between correction and punishment begins to blur.

In 1 Corinthians 5, Paul’s primary purpose for proposing discipline for the incestuous man was to call the church away from pride about its own moral liberality. He was moving them toward the reality of discipline, the imperative of purity within the church. Yet, in 2 Corinthians 2, Paul felt the need to say “treat him gently or you’ll lose him forever.” He recognized how easy it is to overdo collective discipline. Releasing a member from his responsibilities does not release the body from its obligation to love him.

Since we began using temporary suspension rather than automatic expulsion, we have witnessed it work in almost every case. After a time of reflection, suspended members come back to us penitent and renewed, allowing us to guide them into their future ministries.

Even when suspension failed to work, we knew that release was better than revenge.

Learning from “Auckward” Situations

Michael Wilson flew from Honolulu to Los Angeles aboard an Air New Zealand flight. When he arrived in the terminal at Los Angeles, he heard the loudspeaker announce an immediate departure for Oakland. Since this was his desired destination, he boarded the plane and settled in for the quick hop north. When the plane took off, he found it peculiar that they kept flying west. After an hour he collared a stewardess and asked where the plane was headed. “Auckland,” she replied.

When the flight arrived in New Zealand, the airline offered to fly Wilson back to L.A. on the next flight, but he declined. Though it hadn’t been his intention to fly to New Zealand, he decided to get all the benefit out of it he could. He stayed for three days!

None of us sets off in the morning hoping to find a disciplinary case waiting in the office. But most of us can remember mornings with such a scenario. Although our first inclination may be to get out of it as quickly as possible, we can develop the skill to make the most of serendipitous opportunities when they arise.

With people going to court over supposed improprieties in church discipline, many pastors sit on the edge of their seats when moral disasters are discovered. I like to think the same Holy Spirit who moved in Creation can creatively guide our loving hands in discipline.

Michael E. Phillips is pastor of Lake Windermere Alliance Church, lnvermere, British Columbia.

Copyright © 1986 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

“One of the most frustrating things about the ministry,” a fellow pastor was telling me not long ago, “has been a certain kind of woman who seems to show up in every church I’ve served. In this church, it’s Alice.

“She’s an incredible worker. Whether serving on committees or pulling weeds, she practically lives at church. Though she’s always active, she’s not really personally close to anyone. But everyone sees her as a model of Christian service.”

I thought to myself, We should all have such “problems”! But he answered my objection before I could speak.

“The problem arises when she begins thinking her efforts give her the right to make unilateral decisions in church business or in other people’s areas of responsibility. She ends up creating more upset than she’s worth.”

The toughest part of dealing with Alice, he said, is that “everyone feels guilty for not agreeing with Alice’s opinions. One woman told me she was upset with Alice over something, but when I suggested she tell her directly, the lady couldn’t. ‘Who am I to criticize Alice when she’s done so much for the church and I’ve done so little?’ she said.”

Looking back over my years in ministry, I realize virtually all my colleagues have had an “Alice” story to tell. Her name is different from church to church, but the frustration she generates is the same. (Occasionally the problem is “Alan,” although the phenomenon is predominately among female volunteers.) She’s there regardless of denomination or theology-especially in smaller churches, where the laborers are few and hard workers gain considerable power.

Certainly the greatest danger to a church is that others come to believe you’ve got to have Alice involved in every program or it won’t succeed. The strength of the body is undermined as individuals doubt their own gifts and defer to Alice.

Ironically, Alice often complains that more people should help out around the church, but at the same time, she’s unable to see that her unceasing efforts cause others to hold back.

“I once got her to agree to back off and let others take responsibility,” one pastor said. “I told her, ‘Maybe the cookies won’t show up one Sunday at coffee hour. If that’s what it takes, fine. Let people get upset enough to get organized next time. And if after a while nobody gets that concerned, maybe we don’t need the cookies that badly after all.’ “

But before long, Alice noticed no one had signed up for coffee hour chores and came with a huge cake. That Sunday the woman in charge came with her own cake; Alice hadn’t bothered to check with her.

The effect is that the more effort Alice puts out, the less effort the congregation puts out. They’re only too willing to let somebody else take responsibility. And Alice is dependable. People even praise her for her work because they are secretly thankful they didn’t have to do it. But such relational dishonesty has its price. It’s a vicious cycle. People feel weakened and increasingly dependent upon Alice. They begin to resent her, but they’re glad she gets them off the hook.

As Alice continues doing for others, she wields great influence, especially among the neediest members such as the chronically ill and widowed. This creates tension, because to differ with Alice over even administrative details is to invite hurt and confusion among the most vulnerable members, who hold her dear. Policies and decisions should be considered on their merits, not on personal loyalties or fear of upsetting others.

It is not enough, though, for those who become aware of the situation simply to criticize Alice or gossip behind her back. It’s more helpful to recognize the brokenness this situation reveals-not just in Alice but in the church. God’s healing truth, love, and mercy are required in every case.

I try to focus prayer and action on two questions: What so compels Alice to do all this? And why do we let her do it, even as it angers us?

In conferring with other pastors about this problem, I discovered the “Alice profile” is not that of a happy individual. She knows little fulfillment in her personal life. Often at an age when her children are gone, she transfers her need to influence others from her home to her church. She often does not have a satisfying relationship with her husband, who may lack the strength to assert the limits love requires. Indeed, she may be such a diligent homemaker that he feels guilty for any thought of criticism.

She may regularly attend Bible study, but she rarely shares her innermost needs for fear of losing control as deep hurts surface. She likely prefers prayers be directed on behalf of others, whose needs are “so much greater.” If she asks for prayer, it is usually only for help to continue faithfully serving the Lord.

We can best help Alice by praying that she will be more aware of Jesus’ love. We can pray that Jesus gently will bring to the surface her inner hurts and need for acceptance and approval, that he will pour out on her his healing love, that the Lord will deliver her from a compelling need to perform works. Only then can she serve others with grace and joy.

At times, pastors I know have taken the initiative to speak to Alice, asking the Lord for an extra measure of compassion beforehand. One pastor phrased the message like this: “I’m concerned that you have become so involved in so many aspects of our church that others are not developing their own gifts in those areas. They’re becoming dependent on you instead.”

In general, it is best to avoid extensive expressions of appreciation to Alice for her church work. In some ways, those tasks divert her attention from her real needs. Giving her thanks for good deeds is like giving an alcoholic another drink. Honest, direct words spoken out of love are far more helpful in breaking the pattern. It is entirely appropriate to confess to Alice that you have used her unfairly to keep from having to do work yourself or asking others to pick up the slack.

Another pastor encouraged others aware of Alice’s problem to speak to her directly-truthfully, but with love. Other women Alice’s age who had learned the disciplines of intercession and compassion were especially helpful.

Intercessory prayer and loving confrontation may lead an Alice to drop back or drop out. But unless the congregation admits its role in creating and sustaining an Alice, another person will probably arise to fill the role. An Alice cannot continue her excessive responsibility and authority without the church’s cooperation, however grudging.

The church’s job is not to change Alice; that is Jesus’ job. The church can only speak the truth with love and refuse to continue playing its part in the larger game of “Lazy Children and Savior Mother.”

If others begin to take their proper responsibility, Alice may also leave for this reason. This is a loss to be grieved, not because the church has failed but because Alice could not see the church as the loving, healing fellowship that she herself needed desperately. It is sad when needs go unmet; it is tragic when God stands ready to fulfill but we refuse to recognize our need.

Here we begin to see where Alice’s service missed the mark of God’s intention. Christian service begins not with an awareness of our strengths and a desire to serve but rather with an awareness of our brokenness and a desire to be healed. That is why Jesus washed his disciples’ feet, insisting, “If I do not wash your feet, you will no longer be my disciple. … I have set an example for you, so that you will do just what I have done for you” (John 13:8, 15).

Ultimately, Alice, like Peter, does not want Jesus to wash her feet. Her desire to serve others is stronger than her desire to let Jesus serve her. She does not want anyone to wash her feet, because she does not want anyone to see the uncleanness there, the hurts that threaten her image as a giver. To her, brokenness disqualifies her for service; to Jesus, brokenness-like his own on the cross-is the primary qualification for service.

All this, of course, is hard for a congregation to discern, and doing so may take years. As one dare not weed a garden until all seeds have grown enough to be identified, so we must be cautious of questioning anyone’s good works at the church too quickly. In fact, the problem often is aggravated when those who are first uncomfortable with Alice overreact with a resentful edge that quickly draws others to Alice’s defense.

But “speaking the truth with love” is the key to “growing up into Christ”-whether for an Alice who needs to learn the meaning of true service or for a congregation that needs to address a member’s, and its own, weaknesses.

-Gordon Dalbey

Redondo Beach, California

94 Fall LEADERSHIP/86

Copyright © 1986 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

When charges of sexual misconduct are brought against a pastor, the denomination has to act—either to clear a name or clear the pulpit. And in either case, it wants to prevent further damage and begin the healing process. A New Zealand pastor on such an investigating committee jotted his reactions during the experience. Although names and details have been altered, this true story offers insight into pastoral temptation, sin, and guilt—and their effect on a church.

Sunday, March 3. Just before tonight’s service, Ian [the author’s senior pastor] called me into his office. He had been asked to help resolve allegations that a fellow pastor in our denomination was involved in an immoral relationship with a woman in his congregation. When he asked if I could travel with him tomorrow, I was surprised.

But when Ian told me the pastor’s name, my spirit plummeted. Not Tom!

I could hardly concentrate tonight while assisting in the service. I was thinking of Tom’s service, wondering what he was thinking as he stood before his people and realized that if the accusation is proven, this might be his last time. How would Tom handle the kind words spoken unknowingly to him at the close? Tonight he must have felt the freedom of their affection, knowing that next time it could be so different.

I still want to deny the whole thing. How can it be true? We have known each other so long. Tom’s a recognized spiritual leader, a father, a respected teacher and guide to so many of God’s people.

Dear God, this can’t be true. If Tom can be brought down, what hope is there for any of us?

Monday, March 4. Not much sleep last night. As I rushed to throw a few things into a travel bag, I wondered, Do I need to take my Bible? Of course, for all we do today must be based on the truth and mercy of God’s Word.

Ian and I caught the first flight out. We decided on the plane that whether Tom had done wrong or not, we wanted things to be as Psalm 85:10 states, “Mercy and truth have met together, righteousness and peace have kissed each other.” We both knew we also carried the bent toward sin. That realization tempered all we did today.

At the airport we met Tom’s young assistant pastor. He was attempting to be strong, to act brave, but I could see the pain in his eyes. He obviously hadn’t had much sleep or peace of mind recently. Suddenly a great burden of responsibility had fallen on him and the elders.

The commission—Ian, another of Tom’s pastor friends, the assistant pastor, three elders from Tom’s church, and I—met at the church. The elders had asked us to come after they had been told about Tom’s adultery by his wife, who bore the shock of an anonymous phone call. Out of fairness to Tom, the elders wanted us to sit in on their disciplinary hearing.

Today reminded me of my jury duty last week in a civil court. I wondered then how it would feel to sit in the judge’s seat. Today I found out when my brother in Christ stood before us. I wish it had been like the other times we met—a hug, a strong handshake, laughter, inquiries about our families. Not this time.

We were all embarrassed. What do you say? How do you act? Over polite handshakes, we looked into the eyes of a man who appeared devastated. Shame is a soul-destroying thing.

Last week as a juror I had to seek proof of the charges. Today, by his honest confession, Tom immediately convicted himself. A few minutes later, the woman also confessed.

There was no harsh condemnation of Tom or the woman. With our hands clasped tightly together, heads bowed, and tears running, Tom said, “No one can punish me more than I punish myself.”

I felt compassion, though it was still mixed with confusion. Why had it happened? We asked Tom, “Why didn’t you come to us for help? Couldn’t you trust us?” but Tom couldn’t answer. Maybe the pit was too deep, the top too far either to pull himself out or to seek the help of others. Still, I wish he had tried. We might have saved him from this terrible day.

The hardest part was the discipline we had to impose. We excused Tom from the room. I was pleased that our discussion was so harmonious. And I think the guidelines we came up with were sound:

1. No public ministry in any form for one year.

2. In that time, the true fruits of repentance must be seen.

3. Removal from the pastorate of the church (the one he and his wife had labored over for so long!).

4. Relocation to another area, where he will be under the care of a minister who will covenant with Tom to see a threefold restoration: of Tom himself, of his marriage and family relationship, and after that, of his ministry function.

5. Public confession before the congregation of his sin and repentance, and a request for their forgiveness.

That last one was the hardest, but we had to impose it. As the shepherd of his flock, he had spoken of God’s ways and requirements. He had offered correction and discipline. Now he must face his own.

That abstract question, “Should we expect higher standards of personal conduct for those called to minister?” became real today. The answer must be yes. As Jesus said, “To whom much is given shall much more be required.” Should the rules of discipline be higher? Again I could only say yes. James 3:1 puts it so clearly: “Let not many of you become teachers, my brethren, knowing that as such we shall incur a stricter judgment.”

When we brought Tom back into our deliberations, I was proud of him. He immediately subjected himself to the discipline we proposed. He was contrite, ready to begin the process of healing.

But I never again want to endure what we went through tonight. Some people must have suspected what the congregational meeting was about, but most had no clue. And the ones not there will have to hear it on Sunday morning. How sad but necessary for everyone’s healing.

A young man led us in a couple of choruses that helped create a better atmosphere for what was to come. Then Tom spoke, by his words the most grievous thing he ever had to do from any pulpit. He read a brief statement he had composed that afternoon and submitted for our approval: “This morning the elders met to investigate an accusation of adultery made against me. I have admitted the sin, repented, and asked God for forgiveness. I now ask for yours as well. The elders have placed me under discipline for at least a year, to which I subject myself freely.” Then he told the congregation the conditions of the discipline.

To those who didn’t know, it was a terrible shock. Sorrow choked the room. Tears flowed. People sat numb. I didn’t want to look in their eyes. Some responded as I had: “It can’t be true—not our pastor, not this man we love and respect!”

Dear God, what will this do to his family, huddled together in the front row? What will it do to the woman’s family?

Humiliation, shame, pain, love, togetherness, protection, care—what a mixture. Nobody can measure what it cost the two—what it cost everyone—as Tom and the woman stood and confessed their sin, as they voiced their repentance and desire for forgiveness. There was the church’s shepherd saying, “I have endeavored to teach you many things. Learn, if you can, from this, too.”

Afterward the people queued to hold and to hug, to weep and to speak a few words to the man, his wife, and family, not forgetting the other family, either. They took their time; you cannot rush a moment like that. Grief and love must be expressed. Then, quietly the people slipped out of the church. The lights were turned out, the doors locked. It was over—for now. But the grief will continue.

Tuesday March 5. Even though it’s too early to get up, I can’t sleep; I wish I could turn off my mind. I might as well try to pen some thoughts.

Surely after all these years of serving in this place, after all the hard work to build this church, Tom should deserve some honor upon leaving. But it has all been stolen away.

Didn’t someone once say, “What price glory?” Now I keep thinking, “What price sin?”

So many questions to be asked, some answerable, some not. I can’t help but think this was not simply the act of an immoral man but rather the result of pressures, stresses, responsibilities—things only those who dwell in the manse can really understand. Perhaps this was not so much blatant sin as the entanglement of a complicated web—a man of principle and of God’s Word somehow ensnared, not by hard chains but soft threads. But oh, how he is brought down!

How do you relieve the pressures? How do you find time for each other in the marriage relationship? How do you keep your love fresh? How can you build trustworthy relationships and support groups around your life and ministry? How do you learn to put aside the false guilt of overambitious parish expectations and live like normal people, taking time off, having energy for yourself and those you love?

So many questions. I wish I had the answers.

Friday, March 8. The elders asked me to pastor Tom’s church for the next few weeks. They hope I can help ease some of the pain. That’s a heavy responsibility. Am I up to it?

I saw their pain on Monday. They hugged Tom—they really loved him—but they wore their grief like chains as they left the church. Will they ever allow themselves to love a pastor again? Or trust him? What if they can’t separate the man from his message? Will the gospel be forever tarnished in some eyes?

How will I pastor a shaken congregation holding me at arm’s length?

Monday, March 11. The manse was empty as my wife and I inspected it today—empty of people but not yet of their belongings. Jane, walking into another wife’s home, picked up the signs of lingering suffering. The trappings of happiness were all there—family photos on the wall, home comforts, a place so cared for, plants in hangers, shrubs carefully tended. Now, for Tom’s family, it’s all gone. Relocation, new relationships to be formed, the shadow touching whatever they do, healing processes to go through—some wounds never heal without scars.

This fall into sin has cost so much. The guilty, the innocent—each one paying the price in an immeasurable way.

Ripples. Waves. They will continue. For how long? Only the Lord knows.

If only it had never happened.

Copyright © 1986 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Several years ago, my five-year-old son was not settling down for his nap, so I offered to tell him a story. “How about Daniel in the lions’ den?”

“Nah, I’ve heard that one.”

“Well, how about Noah and the ark?”

“I’ve heard that one, too.”

So I changed course. “David, you were born in Texas. Have you heard the story of the Alamo? No? Well, that’s a story every native Texan ought to hear.” So I told him about General Santa Anna and the six thousand Mexicans. I described the Alamo, with the Texans and Davy Crockett inside. I pictured the Mexicans scaling the wall, the cannon blasting, the muskets firing, and the grisly hand-to-hand combat. David was getting interested. “And, David, not one of the Texans survived!” His eyes got so large, you’d have thought he was in the middle of the battle.

Then I told him how several months later Sam Houston surprised the Mexicans and overran them in the Battle of San Jacinto. “Those Texans charged into that battle screaming a blood-curdling cry. Do you remember what it was?”

He looked at me innocently. “No.”

“Oh come on, David-you’ve heard it before. I’ll give you a hint. The first word is remember.” He still couldn’t figure it out, so I said, “Well, there are three words-Remember the . . .”

Suddenly his eyes sparkled. “Now I know, Daddy! Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy!”

I about fell off the bed. Growing up in a preacher’s home was slowly but surely rubbing off on my son.

-Bill Sherman

Woodmont Baptist Church

Nashville, Tennessee

One Sunday morning a Sunday school teacher came up to me with a picture depicting Christ in agonizing prayer in Gethsemane while his disciples slept in the background.

“I showed this picture to my class today,” she announced, “and one of the students said, ‘That reminds me of Pastor Winger.’ “

Naturally, I was quite overwhelmed. While searching for an appropriate comment, I must have failed to catch the twinkle in the teacher’s eyes. After I stammered a moment, she asked, “Want to know why this picture reminded my students of you?”

“Yes, of course,” I said, trying to sound suitably humble.

“Well, Ronnie pointed to the sleeping disciples and said, ‘You see, Jesus was praying so long, just like Pastor Winger does, that the disciples fell asleep!’ “

-Walter Winger

Browncroft Community Church

Rochester, New York

While they were in college, Scott and Chris both volunteered to be advisers for our high school group. Later they became paid interns, getting some hands-on ministry experience as they prepared for ordination.

Like the other advisers, they had an abundance of ideas and even criticisms that they were not shy in voicing: “Why don’t you do something about Terri Wilson? She’s such a problem,” or “Why isn’t the youth group more spiritual?” The barrage seemed incessant.

Both Chris and Scott are now ordained and minister on staffs of large churches. I talked with each of them in recent months, and both reminded me of all the criticisms they had voiced with such freedom and confidence when they weren’t “in charge.” They’re in charge now and wanted me to know their volunteers were asking “Why don’t you say this?” and “Why aren’t you trying that?”

Now, they say, they understand. Ah, sweet music to my battered ears.

-David Wilkinson

Trinity Presbyterian Church

Oroville, California

Several years ago I visited a man who had stopped attending our church. Joe was getting up in years but was in fairly good health.

He greeted me at the door but hesitated to let me in. “Joe,” I explained through the screen, “we’ve missed you in church. Is there any problem I should be aware of?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m getting older and am having some trouble getting around. It’s just too difficult for me to make church anymore.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. There are a lot of steps here and at church. I know you don’t have a car, and it’s a good mile from here to church. Is there any way we can help?”

“I don’t know who I’d ask for a ride,” he said, and I detected the implication: And I don’t want you to arrange one, either.

“How about if I visit you regularly as a shut-in, instead? I could come to your house each month with Communion and a tape recording of one of the services for you to listen to at your convenience. How would you like that?”

Joe’s face drooped suddenly and his eyes averted mine. “That wouldn’t work out because I’m gone so much. You’d seldom find me at home.”

-John E. Kassen

Mount Olive Lutheran Church

Lockport, New York

On my way home for dinner I stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few items. As I started down an aisle, I met a mother and her seven-year-old son from our congregation. The boy stared at me and blurted: “What are you doing here?”

His embarrassed mother jumped into the conversation and quickly redirected it, but I had to chuckle. This boy knew me only as the imposing figure in the black robe on Sunday morning. For all he knew, I lived at the church, never venturing out of its stained-glass sanctity. There in the grocery, I was definitely out of context among packaged soups and pinto beans.

I could understand his feelings. I was always amazed as a child to see my schoolteachers anywhere but in a classroom. I assumed they never left the school grounds. To this boy, I belonged in the sanctuary, not in the real world.

It was an amusing way to begin his education about the church in the world.

-Ted Mattie

First Presbyterian Church

Port Angeles, Washington

Copyright © 1986 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Some differences—between snowflakes, for instance, or symphony instruments—make us delight in diversity. Other differences, however, like those between vinegar and baking soda, combine to set off a furious reaction.

I learned the volatile nature of diversity in a church during an all-committee night. I had been pastor of the church for about a year and a half. The congregation was growing in its understanding and practice of Christian discipleship, but the growth was not without discord.

One committee was discussing spiritual qualifications for leadership. A young man was telling his fellow committee members that our increasing emphasis on a personal relationship with Jesus Christ was making us too narrow and restrictive.

“Look,” said Jim, “none of us is a saint. If you don’t have room for people who doubt and struggle and don’t speak perfect theology, I won’t be part of it.”

A long, strained dialogue began. Over an hour later, we realized Jim was hearing one message—not intended by the others—and would not be convinced otherwise.

Meanwhile, in another committee, an older woman named Janice, who was new to our congregation, was calling for more evangelistic zeal. Later that night I learned she had said, “This church isn’t really preaching the Bible. We’re being too timid. The gospel is demanding!”

Others on the committee appreciated her desire to trumpet the high cost of discipleship à la Bonhoeffer. But they did not agree that our church wasn’t preaching the gospel, and they differed on how to reach the goal of deeper commitment. The committee discussed the need to balance the demands of the gospel with the grace of the gospel—to meet people where they are. Janice felt they were soft-pedaling the gospel’s demands.

I went home that night heartsick. I respected both Jim and Janice, yet now they were pulling hard in opposite directions. I visited each of them, but both concluded they could not continue as members.

The pain from that kind of conflict opens questions, challenges assumptions, and teaches lessons. I began to wrestle with the nature and expression of diverse opinion within the church. What is unity? When is total agreement in belief and practice essential? How can a diverse congregation move forward with harmony?

From my own limited experience and perspective, I have formulated some basic principles that are guiding me on my pastoral journey. I do not claim the authority of an expert. I simply offer my best reflections as an apprentice.

The Kaleidoscopic Ministry

Believers usually react negatively to the word plurality. We suppose if we really love the Lord and each other we will all agree. But do we always agree with our parents? Our spouse? Our best friend? Ourselves?

Differences and disagreements are part of the business of living. Common sense tells us these do not have to mean antagonism or division, yet many churches and individuals fear diversity is an evidence of disunity and even unfaithfulness.

Scripture supports the notion of diversity in the church. In Luke 9, for instance, the disciples wanted to forbid a man from casting out demons in Christ’s name because he wasn’t part of their group. But Jesus gently rebuked their intolerance and exclusivism: “He that is not against you is for you.” We are left to speculate about the man’s relationship to Jesus, but it is clear Jesus did not demand everyone meet a rigid set of external criteria.

Diversity is a fact of life for us pastors. The mobility of society means the constant relocation of church members. Many cross denominational lines to join the church that most appeals to them. They bring to their new church different ideas and practices.

People coming to our church from a background of adult baptism, for example, struggle with our baptism of infants. Others never had women in leadership and find they must work through their theology and understanding of Paul’s teaching. Some come to New England from regions of the country where churches are often more influential; they expect the church to take stronger stands in the community. Others come from churches where the style of worship is different, and they want that style here.

The tensions created by this diversity often make us uncomfortable. We desire to serve God in a pure, orderly way, and when diversity stirs disagreement, it’s difficult to remind ourselves of its benefits.

But we need each person’s viewpoint. We need those who reflect and those who act. We need the advocates of biblical literacy and those who hold forth Matthew 25’s compassion for the elderly, the poor, and the imprisoned.

The joy comes as we listen to, appreciate, and affirm each other. Yes, diversity causes friction, but that friction produces warmth.

Boil Down to the Basics

Does acceptance of diversity mean you open the door to any viewpoint of theology or ethics?

Certainly not!

In any object or activity we find a mixture of essentials and nonessentials. In church history, debate over what was adiaphora, or “indifferent and tolerable,” frequently shook the church. Just as maple sap is boiled and boiled to produce the delicacy of maple syrup, it’s critical to distill the essential in order to set priorities and values. Certain central beliefs must be shared as the basis for a working relationship.

On one occasion a woman named Mary came to me to discuss church membership. She had served as a lay worker on several church staffs in other cities before moving to this area. She wanted to explore my view of Scripture and the historical Jesus. It soon became clear our presuppositions were widely divergent on these central issues. At the risk of being simplistic, let me say that Mary’s theology was much more liberal than mine. After more than forty-five minutes of intense, stimulating, and unsettling discussion, Mary made an insightful observation: “We speak all the same languages except for the mother tongue. We don’t read or understand in common ways the one Book that was written to bind us together in living for God.”

Mary then asked the critical question, “Is there room for this broad range of theological opinion in this church?” Neither of us wanted to say no, but we both knew the chasm was too wide. We parted as friends, yet did not begin a pastor-parishioner relationship. Because Mary and I knew the need for agreement in the basics, we saved ourselves the ongoing anguish that likely would have resulted had she and her family joined this church.

In addition to personal conversations with the pastor, a new members class helps prospective members understand the basic viewpoint of a congregation. We call our class the “Explorations Class,” with the understanding that participants are exploring what it means to be a Christian and a member of this congregation. The six-week class is required for membership, but people take the class with no obligation to join. We have found this an invaluable means of building a solid relational and theological foundation for church life.

Open Channels of Communication

The leader’s task in handling diversity can be likened to taking a picture. Two technical factors contribute to taking a fine photograph: light and focus. Too little light means the image will not register on the film. Incorrect focus produces a blurry image.

A primary means of bringing light and focus to a situation is conversation. When challenged, most people avoid a problem or react aggressively. Neither means resolves the problem. The leaders of the church need to open channels for communication, especially on highly charged issues.

At Session meetings, we regularly discuss letters and comments from the congregation. Congregational forums, group discussions, retreats, and newsletters also enable the dialogue that keeps diversity constructive.

One congregation had existed as a diverse, healthy congregation for many years under the leadership of its pastor. Following that pastor’s call to another church, the newly called pastor ran into difficulties. People began taking sides, and close friendships were strained. Within a year, the new pastor left, and the congregation found it needed to work through some basic issues before it could call another pastor. The people held a series of congregation-wide forums on specific topics, and I was asked to lead one. After teaching on diversity, I asked them to do these things:

—List three to five primary beliefs you think ought to be central to the life of this church.

—List three to five issues you know are currently discussed that you personally consider less than central to your life in this fellowship.

—List three to five areas of belief and/or practice in which you are unsure. What would help you resolve your uncertainty?

When the people answered these questions, they began to see their differences were not as great as they’d seemed, nor were they rooted in the essentials of the faith. As the study closed, one man said, “One of the gifts God has given me in this church is its diversity. It’s helped me stretch further than I ever thought I would. Let’s not lose it.”

Appreciate Others’ Experience

Many conflicts are aggravated because people fail to take seriously the emotions involved. Emotions arise from our experiences.

Following a special service one evening, Geri told me she objected to “guitar and campfire” songs in church. We fell into a good, hearty conversation. She was honest and caring enough to tell me her experience as a child at church summer camps had been rigid and emotionally manipulative. Contemporary praise choruses transported her back to those uncomfortable, frustrating days. The painful emotions of her experience clouded her view of nontraditional music.

I shared with her one principle that helped me keep an open mind about worship styles: in worship God is the audience. The incident of Jesus blessing the children came to mind, perhaps because our children’s choir had just sung. “Geri,” I said, “when we clapped for the children this evening, I thought of Jesus laying hands on the children. We appreciated the children’s enthusiasm and overlooked the less-than-perfect presentation. Instinctively, we know that our Lord is honored by the gift of the heart, regardless of the sophistication of the form. After all, music is an offering to God, not entertainment for the congregation.”

Geri smiled. “I guess the Lord likes all our songs as long as they’re from the heart. But don’t forget about those of us who’ve been burned.”

We both grew from our conversation: I was reminded again of the need for sensitivity, and Geri learned she could praise God with six-string guitars as well as pipe organs.

Differentiate Style and Substance

Too often we mistake style for substance, rejecting or accepting both without distinguishing the two. Evangelism is a frequent victim of this. I often encounter resistance to evangelism based on a person’s unpleasant experience with a particular evangelistic method. The way to soften resistance is to focus clearly on the substance of evangelism and be creative in the style it might take in a particular situation.

After three years at my present church, I wanted to provide the opportunity for people to respond publicly to a call to commitment. I discussed the idea with our worship committee. They were concerned that we not create a situation in which people would feel judged if they didn’t respond in a certain way, and they gave helpful counsel on the most appropriate way to present the call and the mode of response. We agreed that I would precede the call with a careful explanation in order to avoid misunderstanding. On the worship committee’s recommendation, the Session unanimously approved the plan.

On Easter Sunday as the sermon concluded, I prefaced the call to commitment and recommitment with a careful explanation. Nearly 10 percent of the congregation stood in response. Later, many expressed appreciation for the opportunity. One woman said, “I’m usually totally turned-off by something like an ‘altar call,’ but your explanation helped me see the value of a public response.”

At our next Session meeting I learned that a few members expressed concern that this activity was “un-Presbyterian.” In conversation, I learned that “un-Presbyterian” meant it was outside their experience in Presbyterian churches. Our Presbyterian Book of Order, however, says that during the worship service the people “should have an opportunity to give themselves to the Lord. An invitation may be given to individuals to respond . . . by making a personal profession of faith in Jesus Christ.”

This experience reminded me that biblical and theological education of the laity reduces the strains of diversity by helping people better understand the substance of their faith. The teaching of church history and tradition can broaden people’s outlook and help them accept others’ viewpoints and practices.

Combatants may win occasional battles or achieve some gains as heroic martyrs, but they seldom motivate lasting change. The critical need in situations of diversity is to clearly reason through issues and to lovingly care for people. Above all, we need to hang in there.

To use the photographic analogy, we must discern the individual’s and the congregation’s “speed” (i.e., sensitivity to light). Some are 100 ASA, slow to absorb but still capable of giving a good picture. Others are 400 ASA, quick to accept new things. We must be faithful with what we are given.

Douglas J. Rumford is pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Fairfield, Connecticut.

Copyright © 1986 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

One Sunday evening, Good Shepherd Church was conducting its twice-yearly congregational meeting. Discussion was calm; a few nodding heads certified no hot issues were on the agenda.

Then, toward the end of the meeting, someone noted the music committee had asked for a 20 percent increase in budget. “What does this involve?” he asked.

The chairman of the music committee politely explained that the two part-time staff persons were overworked, and thus the committee had decided to hire a part-time director for the junior choir.

Immediately two people jumped to their feet. “Who authorized the music committee to increase the staff?” they demanded. People in the pews visibly stiffened. Two couples slipped out the back exit.

A member of the music committee angrily defended the proposal, in the process saying, “This congregation exploits the gifts of musicians!” and accusing several individuals of deliberately attempting to destroy “the finest church music program in this town.”

Though this explosion was sudden, the fuse had been smoldering a long time. The disagreement over salaried music staff at Good Shepherd was at least a decade old. Each year the music committee gradually increased the music budget, and every year members opposed to hiring music staff tried to sabotage the increases. Despite these annual behind-the-scenes skirmishes, the congregation scrupulously skirted open and direct discussion of the issue.

Now Good Shepherd Church had arrived where congregations that habitually avoid conflicts usually arrive. Long-bottled tensions erupt; the congregation is caught off guard.

For nearly a decade I have mediated church fights like this one, though usually I am not called in until the conflict has escalated far beyond that at Good Shepherd. My experience has taught me: Manage conflict, or it will manage you. Whenever churches have faced conflict openly, the congregations have grown stronger in the process. But whenever they have hidden from conflict, it has emerged when the congregations were weakest and least prepared. The longer the congregation hides, the more “political” and power oriented the struggle becomes, and the more destructive its impact.

Through dozens of tense congregational meetings, late-night phone calls, and painful letters, I have found some principles that have helped pastors and churches manage conflicts in positive, constructive ways.

Accept Conflict

The first, and most important, principle is to allow conflict and even encourage it. It’s a paradox, but if you want to experience less conflict in your congregation, try to have more. Invite differing views to be expressed.

Recently I spent a weekend with a church paralyzed over several issues, then spent the following weekend with another church responding with little polarization to the exact same issues. People in the first church felt bad about their disagreements. In fact, they viewed them as dangerous. When certain topics arose, voices quieted and bodies stiffened. People with known differences withdrew from each other, so when discussion did occur, it quickly turned hostile. What struck me was that while trying mightily to avoid conflict, this church was riven by tension.

The second church didn’t seem to try to hide its differences. I almost got the feeling people enjoyed the vigorous exchange of views. I mentioned this to the pastor, and he said, “I figure if you’ve got this many people growing together, you’re bound to have your share of differences.” It’s odd, but this church, which wasn’t trying to bury its conflict, actually seemed to have less of it.

People who fear conflict commonly respond to disagreements in one of these ways:

1. Spiritualizing-A pastor pulled me aside near the end of a weekend of intense effort to resolve a long-festering feud. “I suppose all this emphasis on getting things out in the open and discussing them isn’t all that bad,” he commented, “but I really don’t think it’s going to do us any good. What this church needs is not dialogue; we just need to get down on our knees and pray, confess our sins, and get our hearts right with God. That’ll take care of our conflicts!”

2. Denying-Tension had paralyzed the elders in one congregation for months. Increasingly they stopped communicating with each other and instead talked to other members about their frustration. When we called a meeting for elders to communicate directly, the member most distinguished for sullen withdrawal began with denial. “I don’t intend to say much,” she stated archly. “I’m here because I was asked to come. But I’ve given all this over to God. I don’t have problems with anyone here, and I don’t understand why everyone keeps fussing and complaining.”

3. Trivializing-“Why can’t these people be a little more mature?” moaned a congregational chairperson about a recent church tiff. “People are starving in our world, and we are surrounded with lost souls, yet here we sit, tearing up each other over ridiculous details. Why do we waste time over these petty objections?”

4. Guilt-tripping-“I feel as though I’m a failure as a pastor when there’s disharmony in the church,” confided a distraught minister. “Maybe I’m just not exercising appropriate leadership.”

These persons share the common assumption that conflict is primarily negative and destructive. While their wounds are many and undeniably real, what they don’t understand is their assumptions about conflict elicit the worst in others. Each of these approaches blocks communication and actually escalates feelings of desperation, misunderstanding, and anger.

The question is not whether we disagree but how we disagree. Jesus assumes there will be conflict among believers, as reflected in Matthew 18:15-20, and he outlines simple, practical procedures for resolving it. Paul is angry about conflict in 1 Corinthians 6:1-6, not because conflict exists, but because the disputing parties were resorting to the use of secular courts for resolution. “Surely there is someone among you wise enough to mediate!” he charges. Paul’s model of the church, a body of diverse members, is a conflict model. A hand and a foot will view a mountain hike quite differently! Diversity means conversing, challenging, listening, welcoming disagreement, and taking our differences seriously.

Throughout church history, conflict proves to be the arena of revelation. More than any other moment, God speaks to humans when they stand face to face in disagreement. Look at Acts 15-tremendous conflict, yet the setting in which God reveals stunning new intentions about the scope of salvation. Consider our church creeds: virtually all we call orthodoxy emerged in its present form only because of conflict.

No, not all conflicts lead to revelation. The potential for hurt, pain, and chaos is substantial. But let us begin by looking first for the goodness in conflict, not the darkness. If we rightly understand Scripture, church history, and human experience, we need not necessarily say, “Oh, no, here we go again!” We might realistically have the courage to say, “Well, what is God going to say to us this time?”

I often begin sessions with a church in conflict with a statement on 1 Thessalonians 5:21: “Despise not prophecy, but test everything.” I stress the importance of people taking a stand on their views and also testing all perspectives critically. This kind of public acknowledgment of conflict, and acceptance of it, lays the foundation for the specific techniques for managing conflict.

Agree on the Process

What should you do first, after conflict explodes into the open, or better, after it is placed in the open by acknowledging early on that opinions differ?

Agree on the process-before trying to agree on solutions. That is, before discussing the viewpoints themselves, agree on a fair way to discuss the various viewpoints and come to a decision. It is much easier to agree on procedure than on issues.

By discussing procedures first, a foundation for cooperation is laid. It is usually not difficult to gain the support of 80 percent or more of a congregation for a proposed procedure if it is fair and impartial. When a process has been agreed upon, there is a better chance of gaining broad support for a solution. I have seen people who once strongly opposed a given solution support it ungrudgingly because they were satisfied their viewpoint had been heard.

On the other hand, I have seen people immediately reject solutions-that to me seemed wise and fair-simply because they felt left out of the process.

At the Good Shepherd meeting described earlier, the congregational chairperson was initially caught off guard, but prevented greater damage by moving the group to this important first step. He noted the different opinions and summarized each empathetically. Then he said, “I propose we lodge this issue with the church council and ask them to take leadership in resolving this disagreement.” Others liked the idea, and after a few minutes of discussion, the chairperson’s proposal was approved. Placing the conflict on the official agenda of the church prevents further avoidance and allows careful planning of succeeding steps.

The church council then formed a group to develop and propose a decision-making process for congregational approval. Such a committee should represent the various viewpoints on the issue. This means, however, everyone will be tempted to engage in little power games to “win” at the expense of others. The best way to reduce this temptation is to take half an hour during the first committee meeting and occasionally in later meetings to discuss the issue openly. Encourage members to view their job not as advocating a particular solution but setting up a process by which each view will be heard.

This kind of committee outlines, in writing, a proposed process, sometimes known as the “Agreement on Procedures.” The “Agreement” will be submitted to the congregation for approval before discussion of the issue begins. In their book, Church Fights, Paul Kittlaus and Speed Leas suggest four items that should be included in the Agreement: issues, goals, time line, and decision rule.

Issues: Specify the issue that needs to be decided. In the opening stages of discussion, people often disagree on what the real issue is. It is important that people agree on what they are disagreeing about before trying to seek solutions.

Goals: The Agreement should also state what the group would like to happen as a result of this effort. Surely one goal would be to understand the viewpoints of each group better. In many situations, another major goal would be to develop a specific recommendation that most of the congregation can accept.

Time line: The Agreement should lay out what will happen when. Probably the first event in the time line will be congregational approval of the proposed Agreement. The second event will be gathering viewpoints from all corners of the congregation. Specify how this will be done-questionnaires, interviews, group discussions, or all of these. Normally the third event would be the committee tabulating and reflecting on the congregational viewpoints. The fourth event would be the committee presenting for congregational approval a resolution they believe will be acceptable to the majority.

Decision rule: The Agreement should specify the rule by which the final decision will be made. Is a simple majority vote adequate? Or must there be greater support? A decision supported by 75 percent of the congregation is much easier to live with than one supported by 53 percent.

At Good Shepherd Church, the church council appointed an ad hoc committee consisting of three members of the council (one of whom was also head of the music committee), plus three other individuals in the congregation. In the course of three sessions, the ad hoc committee developed the following Agreement on Procedures:

Issue:

Voluntary service versus paid service in the congregation. (The ad hoc committee decided this was the key issue, not whether or not to increase the music budget.)

Goals:

1. To understand the implications of voluntary service versus paid service for our congregation, and to find God’s will for us in this issue.

2. To provide opportunity for members of the congregation to express their views on the issue.

3. To develop a proposal resolving the issue that is acceptable to as many members of the congregation as possible.

4. To discuss the issue openly, tolerantly, and flexibly in a spirit of Christian fellowship.

Process and time line:

1. September 12-Church council ad hoc committee presents Agreement on Procedures to congregation for approval or modification.

2. October 3-17-Congregation discusses issue. All members will have an opportunity to state their views and suggest solutions during this time.

a. October 3-Panel discussion of issue during adult Sunday school hour.

b. October 10-Small groups discuss issue and fill out questionnaire during evening service.

c. October 10-24-Ad hoc committee reviews results of small-group discussion and on October 24 briefly reviews preliminary findings at end of church hour. Individuals wishing to respond may meet with committee after church.

d. November 7-Church council ad hoc committee presents a resolution for official action to the congregation based on previously gathered information.

Decision rule:

A 66 percent affirmative vote is required by the congregation on any resolution recommended by the church council ad hoc committee.

What happened? The Good Shepherd ad hoc committee circulated copies of the proposed Agreement on Procedures in a special after-church meeting on September 12 and responded to the few questions that arose. The congregation then voted overwhelmingly to accept the Agreement on Procedures.

This process may seem lengthy or arduous to some. And, of course, hard work remains after the Agreement on Procedures is approved. But I have found repeatedly that congregations that begin in this fashion usually find the discussion process less divisive than they anticipated. One congregation I know that worked through this procedure had set a 60 percent affirmative vote as their decision rule. They were surprised and relieved to discover 87 percent of the congregation supported the recommendation that finally developed!

Minimize “Triangling”

Exacerbating every church conflict is a process psychologists call triangling. Person A is unhappy with Person B. Healthy communication habits, and indeed, adherence to Matthew 18:15-20, would bring A to communicate directly with B about the problem. The common and usually unconstructive alternative is A avoids B and instead confides his anger or frustration to a third person, C.

Person A feels temporarily relieved, but the problem remains unresolved. Person C also reaps substantial benefits. Recall how good it feels when someone confides a juicy, indignant tale about another person! People routinely associate feelings of honor, significance, wisdom, and power with being the C corner of a triangle. Thus, two-thirds of the people involved in triangling get immediate emotional payoffs. No wonder this maneuver is so common a response in conflict, and so difficult to resist.

In churches paralyzed by conflict, triangling is ubiquitous; all through such churches are people willingly playing the role of C. These people are perpetuating unresolved conflicts while, ironically, feeling helpful. “A feels so bad; he just needs someone to support and comfort him.”

Triangling is not always bad. Sometimes troubled persons need the counsel of others to gain perspective on a conflict. What matters most is that we teach people to recognize triangling when it occurs, and to consciously decide whether it is useful to talk about another person rather than with him or her. Knowing how to respond as a C when approached by others is crucial to being effective in relationships, especially when things are tense.

When is listening to Person A’s frustration constructive? (1) When the discussion focuses on people who are present (“What insights on yourself do you have, A, about why this relationship with B seems to be so difficult?”) or, (2) when the purpose is to restore direct communication (“How could you approach B about your concerns, or how can I help you prepare for this encounter?”).

Without these elements, triangling rarely proves beneficial. Often the most helpful thing C can say to A is, “From what you are saying, this has been a difficult situation for you. I would like to help, but I feel uncomfortable talking with you about this because B, who is the one who really needs to hear what you have to say, is not here. I care about both of you, and I want to see the two of you work this out.”

Many people find this kind of response difficult, because they fear upsetting A. And very often, they have already been snared into pledging secrecy for what A is about to tell them. In conflict settings, once you have pledged secrecy, you have formed an alliance with your partner and will usually be triangled. Church leaders particularly need to know when it is appropriate to pledge secrecy and when to desist. So long as pastors and lay leaders yield to requests “not to tell who told you this,” conflicts will fester.

So how can triangling be overcome? Speed Leas discovered an effective tactic. “Feel free to share stories,” he assures congregations, “but commit yourself to this congregational ground rule: All stories bear the name of their source; no anonymous tales. Thus, if I tell you a juicy tidbit, you are free to repeat it, but you and I both know that when you do, you will say, ‘Speed Leas told me that. … ‘ The gossipy introduction, ‘Don’t tell anyone I told you . . .’ is off-limits.” This approach won’t eliminate triangling, but it helps keep people accountable and makes them more cautious about information sharing.

Encourage Group Dialogue

One of the most important, and most difficult, aspects of congregational conflict management is getting issues into the open. Leaders and lay people fear open discussion will lead to an explosion, so they procrastinate talking about the conflict or avoid it entirely. Ironically, the longer a group avoids discussion, the more likely an explosion will indeed occur when the issues surface.

The fastest way I know to get to the issues paralyzing a church is to structure dialogue about the controversial issues in the presence of the entire church. While it feels risky to me as mediator, and especially to members of the church, I have discovered it to be less risky than it feels. Numerous ways to structure dialogue will reduce anxiety and enable thoughtful reflection, even when volatile issues are at stake. The key is to provide a structure that makes it unlikely, if not impossible, for members to fall into old patterns of feuding.

None of the options requires an expert in conflict management, though the discussion facilitator should be chosen carefully. He or she must be viewed as a trustworthy and caring person, and if not personally neutral about the issues at hand, must at least be known for setting aside personal biases to serve everyone’s interests. The facilitator must also be able to summarize in a few empathetic words what others have said. If no one in the congregation seems suited to the assignment, a person outside may be able to play such a role.

Here are three of my favorite tools for structuring group dialogue:

Interviews-Select one to three people from each perspective on the issue. In the presence of the entire group, interview them about their viewpoint. Try to relate to each warmly, keeping the tone that of a friendly, informal conversation. Paraphrase often what each person says.

You may wish to begin on a personal note to establish rapport: “Tell me a little about yourself,” or “Tell me what has happened to you this week.” Then ask for the person’s views, spoken only for himself or herself. Sample questions: “How do you view these issues personally?” “Tell me what is happening here from your perspective.” “In what ways do you at times feel misunderstood?” “In what ways would you personally agree or disagree with views already expressed here?”

List views on a chalkboard, or have an assistant do so, to enhance the sense that each viewpoint has been heard-the major goal at this point. If time allows, encourage direct dialogue between interviewees, especially in those moments when people speak calmly and thoughtfully or use genuine feeling statements (“I feel . . .”). Prompt direct dialogue with “I’d like to give you the opportunity to ask or say anything you feel would be helpful directly to Sam (the other party).” Or, “I’d like you to turn and say directly to Sam what you just said to me.”

You may wish to turn to the congregation and inquire if there are views not yet stated that someone wishes to add. Be prepared for the occasional outburst and respond with paraphrasing. Request that speakers come forward to the microphone, preferably yours, in order to discourage cheap hit-and-run attacks from the rear.

In most cases-and this is the real strength of the interviewing approach-if the interviewees have been carefully chosen to present all major viewpoints, the anxiety level of the group diminishes palpably during the interviews. Ideally, each person present will feel that his or her own viewpoint, or something similar, has been expressed by at least one of those interviewed. This reduces the inclination of excitable souls to jump into the fray and “set everyone straight.”

Group Spectrum-This exercise involves everyone, physically if not verbally. In a spectrum, the leader draws an imaginary line and designates one end of the room to represent one extreme viewpoint, and the other end an opposite extreme viewpoint.

Individuals are then asked to stand somewhere along this spectrum corresponding to their personal views. The spectrum quickly sketches a picture of group opinion.

Recently I was called to a church whose pastor had resigned under pressure. A group that supported the recently resigned pastor wanted to leave and start a new church. To move to the heart of the disagreement, and to involve everyone, I used a group spectrum. I announced that I knew one major issue in the congregation was the stated intention of a group in the church to start a new fellowship, and I wished to guide them in the discussion of the issue and what lay behind it. I designated one end of the room to represent those who definitely intended to leave the congregation and the other end, those who definitely intended to stay. Between the two points represented a range of intermediate views, like leaning toward leaving but unsure.

I gave everyone sixty seconds to decide where he or she wanted to stand. Then I asked everyone to get up and walk to the point that represented his or her views. The group gulped collectively. No one wanted to publicly reveal his or her biases. But chuckling nervously, everyone found a place. Once there, they were afraid to peek, to see where others stood. I encouraged them to take a good, long look, and after a minute or two invited people to share why they stood where they did. Responses came readily, with little acrimony, from across the room.

I found in this situation, as before, that physical position is remarkably effective in bringing diverse views into the open without hostility. People who normally communicate only in angry tones often seem able to chuckle and express themselves calmly about their position.

The group spectrum causes discussion with others in order to determine exactly which persons one should be standing between. You might want to bring together for discussion individuals closest to each other. For example, those at the poles of the spectrum form two groups, and those in the middle form a third group. This can be an effective way to organize for negotiation on disputed items, and it often empowers the middle group since it is frequently the largest.

Samoan Circle-This exercise is named after a community decision-making tool used in the South Sea Islands. Usually eight chairs are placed in a central point in the room. Five persons are chosen to serve as the core discussion group. They take their places in the circle and begin discussion of the chosen issue. Any other persons who wish to join are welcome to come forward and take one of the three “rotating” seats. If the vacant chairs are full, people wishing to speak may come forward and stand in a line behind the rotating seats. If the line is large, current occupants are expected to keep their comments brief.

In one church, we had narrowed the issues of conflict to four. I asked the two predominant groups to each select four people from the other group who they felt could effectively present the other group’s perspective. These two teams of four took their place in a semicircle with several additional rotating seats. This approach helped the congregation discuss the issues in a more peaceful, orderly way. The leader must be firm, however, that all discussion occur in the circle. If people begin reacting from outside the circle, goodwill degenerates rapidly.

These structured approaches bring conflicting views into the open; they allow people to state their opinions in a constructive, calmer way. Once views are in the open, they can be clarified, and people can determine what’s really important and what’s not.

Not What I Prefer but What I Can Support

The final stage in most church conflicts is to generate a list of possible options and decide on one. The church about to split that I mentioned earlier listed three options:

-stay together with ongoing discussion of key differences;

-separate into two independent churches;

-separate, but explore ways to support each other and cooperate where possible.

The first option seemed unrealistic because the new group had already met together several times and was enthusiastic about the need for a new church in the city. The second option was unattractive, for only a few wanted to relinquish all ties with people from their old fellowship. A straw vote established that most people supported the third option and genuinely wanted to find ways to cooperate with the other group.

This decision did not please everyone, and that’s true of nearly every decision resolving church conflict. My goal is not to reach a decision everyone prefers, but one everyone is prepared to support. Because this church worked to handle their conflict constructively, they were able to reach such a decision.

Near the end of my time with this group, I opened the floor for people to make statements of personal friendship, apologies, or confessions. For ten minutes, people rose one after another and offered confessions. Many months of misunderstanding and pain began to be healed in those moments. Since returning home, I have kept in touch with this church, and negotiations between the groups are going well. Church conflict such as this is always painful, but it can be constructive if we work to manage it well.

Ronald S. Kraybill is director of the Mennonite Conciliation Service in Akron, Pennsylvania.

PACIFYING PRICKLY PARISHIONERS

Fresh out of seminary, I worried about becoming bloodied by prickly parishioners. I’d heard the classic war stories: PASTOR SKEWERED BY OWN THREE-POINT SERMON or DEACONS WITHHOLD SALARY; MAKE POINT. I understood that some folks respond to their pastors like out-of-joint porcupines. Quills extended, they lurch forward, eager to make an impression.

Wondering how a veteran dealt with difficult people, I chatted with my mentor. John, in his eighties, exhibited a full shock of gray hair. If ever a preacher incarnated the old-fashioned notion of pluck, it was John, who combined it with puckish mischief. When I asked how he fought the porcupine wars in his decades as a pastor, John said, “I pray for my enemies. I pray for their early deaths!” Then he broke out in laughter.

Of course, John spoke in jest. He went on to say that ice-cold parishioners often melt when the preacher doesn’t heave snowballs back at them. “Thaw their icy hearts by offering a sunny word of encouragement,” he advised. “It works wonders.”

That was one pro’s contribution to my education. I later picked up a second strategy: Don’t make every battle your own, a lesson I learned in a conversation with a master in the art of cultivating human relationships-Norman Vincent Peale. I figured anyone who can hold together a Manhattan church for over fifty years must have some insight. After all, New Yorkers have been known to beef, bite, and bellyache. I had the chance to ask him about it.

Peale pointed out that when we enter the religious fray with difficult people, it angers us, eats away time for productive ministry, and creates even more vehement enemies.

“What’s the alternative?” I asked. “Must we just slink away from attackers?”

Peale replied, “I have always let my parishioners do the fighting for me. Changed lives will win the day. Persuasive parishioners who believe in your views are ten times-a thousand times-better in the heat of battle than clever, clenched theological arguments.”

Maybe that’s one reason why Jesus went to the mountains to pray. This allowed his disciples, not the easiest collection of people to get along with, to work on each other. Peers are better than pastors at rebutting most parishioners’ complaints. It’s amazing how irked folks will sometimes accept abrasive words from pew sitters, but if the pastor utters a peep along the same lines, out come the tar and feathers.

In our church, we urge people to write their gripes on pew cards. We promise to read every signed card before the elders. Sometimes the cards have teeth that leave an imprint of dissatisfaction on my hide. But it is not my job to respond. After being read, the cards are parceled out to appropriate committee chairpersons. They deal with the gripes, and prickly people will usually listen to these peers.

Recently a parishioner lambasted me because I didn’t have “an old-fashioned Mother’s Day sermon”; I dared talk about our ministry to single parents. So we passed on the beef to the worship committee chairman who visited the irritated worshiper and explained our desire to help single-parent families. “Perhaps you know some who have this solo responsibility,” he fished.

“Yes,” responded the woman. “My daughter goes to school with their kids.”

The chairman explained we wanted to avoid messages about “mom and dad with two kids in the nest loving Jesus” that would alienate these people. The parishioner began to understand our thinking. The conversation worked wonders. My involvement might have only added fuel to the fire.

When difficult parishioners get me down, I sometimes wish I were Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe. Living alone on a desert island away from difficult people would be paradise. But Defoe’s other writings snap me back to reality. “Though I don’t like the crew,” he wrote, “I won’t sink the ship. In fact, in time of storm I’ll do my best to save it. You see, we are all in this craft and must sink or swim together.”

Together-that’s the rub with difficult people. But when I’m gentle in return and let others blunt the worst stabs, ministry continues-together.

-Jack R. Van Ens

Arvada (Colorado) Presbyterian Church

Copyright © 1986 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

I will never forget sitting in my office as two factions in my church collided like two opposite-bound freight trains on the same track. As the founding pastor, I had begun this work a few months earlier with a firm commitment to inclusiveness. Now I was swept up in a showdown.

The organist was from a Presbyterian background. The pianist’s roots were Pentecostal. Each Sunday morning service began with the organist playing Bach preludes … la Virgil Fox at the Notre Dame Cathedral and the pianist primed to play her praise songs … la Dino at the Shrine Auditorium. While I thought the mixture was wonderful, both women were appalled and hostile.

Armed with their followers, they had come to my office for a worship committee meeting. The atmosphere was anything but conducive to thoughts of worship. The scene looked more like arms negotiations with the Soviets. Both sides were convinced there was no room in this new church for what the other offered.

At that point I had to make a fundamental decision. I could take the easy way out by declaring one side the winner, which would put the tension to rest (and most likely cause the other side to leave). On the other hand, if I were willing to take the heat and stay in the role of negotiator, we might just be able to transcend diversity and become a truly exciting expression of the love of Christ.

With some reluctance and lots of trepidation, I decided to step between the trains to try to prevent the wreck and avoid the casualties.

I wish I had a Superman story for you, but I don’t. I proved to be hopelessly mortal, getting mangled and losing both women as members of the church. However, something important arose out of the smoldering wreckage of the collision. A principle was established: If people were going to be members of this congregation, they would have to lovingly embrace each other. They didn’t have to agree on everything, but they did have to be tolerant and, more important, open to other people’s practices.

It also established my role. Rather than presiding over midnight massacres, the pastor’s role would be one of reconciler-even if that occasionally cost the church some people.

That controversy, while painful at the time, proved to be a fortuitous beginning for our church. But even if our young congregation had been in existence for decades, I believe the result could have been the same. Once the principle of unity is set and the pastor has the willingness, tenacity, and stature to stand behind it, a new day can begin. From that point on, our congregation consciously set out to respect, cultivate, and encourage many varied forms of church life. As a result, the ministry has benefited. The quality of worship has been enhanced, attendance and giving have increased, and evangelism has flourished.

Periodically, every church faces some issue that threatens to divide. The problem is as old as the Jerusalem believers’ argument over how to administer the “needy fund.” These days it may revolve around the purchase of a church van-or the construction of a new building. It may pit Scripture memory buffs against those who want to focus attention on an inner-city tutoring program. The issue may be which musical instruments (if any) are appropriate in worship-or the role of women. It may be apartheid-or flowers on the altar. How are we going to respond?

The Pastor’s Attitude

Whatever the issue, there are some important principles to know if we are to reach the tough but noble goal of unity.

I am convinced from our experience that harmony could not have been achieved if I had not committed myself to the goal of unity without uniformity.

This demands that the pastor be secure enough to tolerate a diversity of opinion. I had to allow people to hold ideas different from my own! For some leaders, I realize, this requires significant soul searching Does personal integrity demand that I run the church my way? Is the goal of unity more important than the goal of doing things that make me comfortable? Can we allow parishioners latitude in their musical taste, worship style, and even their theological basis?

I realized my leadership was crucial. Far more divisions in Christendom have resulted from a pastor’s entrenched position than from genuinely irreconcilable theological differences between lay people.

After wrestling with those questions, I felt in this clash over musical tastes it was more important to demonstrate the fullness of the body of Christ than to establish one particular style.

How did I begin to work with the two camps in our church?

First, I had to develop insight and appreciation for how the two groups were both alike and different. Through these years of dialogue and exchange, I have learned how critical it is to recognize the differences between each group’s world view. Generally the strain between differing camps is assumed to be purely theological. While theological differences do exist, I have discovered the problem is often more one of diversity-the different ways each side experiences what is real.

For example, take the deeper differences in our church between the charismatics and noncharismatics. I prefer to label these two camps the Pneumatics and the Pragmatics. Setting aside, for a moment, the age-old theological debate about charismatic gifts, I have discovered the major difference between these groups is the way they encounter what they profess.

Pragmatics put a high value on reason. This group gives allegiance to the “outer” manifestations of faith. They are children of the Enlightenment, who don’t put much credence in unusual experiences that originate from realms that can’t be tested, analyzed, evaluated. Like the rationalists, Pragmatics see hunches, intuition, and inspirations as suspect. Prayer certainly has a place, but they don’t want to make outlandish, “unrealistic” requests. Healing stories are nice, but they don’t want to make them the norm for every Christian. They often look for inconsistencies and incongruencies in such accounts.

On the other hand, Pneumatics have found another dimension of reality within the folds of everyday life. They seek the “inner” encounter. They believe the Spirit of the Creator is so much at work that, to use Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s metaphor, every common blackberry bush has the potential to become aflame with God’s presence. Pneumatics expect interventions. When they dream at night, God speaks, and even in their waking moments they may experience visions. They have an inner ear that hears the inaudible. Their vision goes beyond the optic nerve. They sense an inner reality that can’t be calculated on a computer. For them, prayer is an encounter; they expect not only to speak to the Creator but to hear him respond. Pneumatics become ecstatic over stories of personal healing.

At the risk of oversimplification, and not intending a value judgment, I describe Pragmatics as rational and Pneumatics as mystical. Pragmatics generally deal with the faith’s outworking, Pneumatics with the faith’s inner movement. Their differing orientations set the stage for conflict.

After analyzing these differences, I went to work trying to use that knowledge.

I sought to point out that both groups truly need each other. Rationalists need the “feelers” while the mystics need help in keeping their feet on the ground. By embracing the other rather than squaring off, each group could maintain its balance. My attitude was: Each orientation has its place. We need to help each group get in touch with how the other functions. No adequate discussion of theology, philosophy, evangelism, spiritual gifts, or healing ministry can occur until both sides are willing to hear the other.

Often the pastor is the only person who can help each camp see these differences and appreciate their meaning. As leaders, we must also have sensitivity to the places where these differences are likely to come into conflict.

Identify the Flashpoints

Having determined my own attitude, and recognizing the differences in orientation, I found it important to clarify publicly the places where collisions were likely to occur. As the whole church reflected on why these points of tension arose, many a bomb was defused.

In our situation, worship was always one of the prime areas of tension. Holding up hands or singing praise choruses tended to run counter to stately liturgy and classical hymns. As one group searched for experience, the other sought order and continuity. The Pragmatics were suspicious of emotion, while the Pneumatics were wary of structure.

During congregational study times, we explored the heritage of each group to discover what was both useful and superfluous. For one month I merged all the adult classes into one “Pastor’s Class.” During this hour we investigated the ramifications of worship practices. We considered strengths and weaknesses of both the liturgical and nonliturgical traditions and how each experienced the reality of God’s presence. Because each position was treated fairly, we were able to help both sides see the best points of the other.

Now we offer the worship class once a year so that as new people join the church, they will be able to participate in the unique blend that has emerged. Occasionally we study various worship forms such as the frontier evangelistic service or the second-century Communion service. Then in the following hour, we worship in that manner. More than just instructional, the result has been exciting and invigorating to the congregation.

By setting out to find the best of the various worlds, we were able to evolve a form of worship that was both liturgical and spontaneous, structured and open. For example, we always begin with one of the great hymns of the past that is addressed to God and expresses stately praise. However, we discovered that just before the pastoral prayer, simple praise songs turned our attention toward the spiritual in a way that nothing else did.

We took a second look at the practice of holding up hands in praise. The Pragmatics resented this expression, feeling it was a Pentecostal style not appropriate for our Reformed denomination. When this perspective was interpreted to the Pneumatics, they could appreciate the tension. They pointed out, however, that the origins of this practice were actually in the Old Testament. The Book of Psalms suggests these Jewish gestures of prayer are expressions honoring God.

Because no one was forced either to adopt or reject the practice, in a short time it was unimportant whether people lifted their hands in worship.

Another hot spot was the question of the use of the gifts of the Spirit. This is a touchy theological issue in many groups. In our church, however, even those who questioned the validity of gifts for the present age were aware of the apparent reality of their fellow Christians’ gifts. It’s difficult to tell another person his experience is an illusion without suggesting he’s a little crazy. When people could see these gifts exercised in love, theological opinions took on the texture of sister relating to sister and brother to brother. Stiff dogmatism yielded to Christian sensitivity, which saved many a painful confrontation.

Even our congregation, however, which generally recognizes the biblical validity of the full range of spiritual gifts, still had tension over the more controversial ones: tongues and miracles. Our congregation found that if we avoided the extremes of declaring that people were entirely wrong or completely right, we could hold the two groups in creative tension.

We made it clear we wanted to be open to everything God is doing. We would be willing to hear and try to understand everyone’s experience while remaining faithful to God’s Word. One group might feel memorizing Scripture is the best means of spiritual growth while another group seeks the more esoteric prayer experience as the means to the same end. As all discovered what it means to believe that the Holy Spirit really does work in the fullness of time, we had less need to “strap it on each other.” The result has been a peaceful, natural process of personal growth.

We found this approach was equally helpful in considering the diverse issues that are vital and personal to both groups. Our Pragmatics tend to be concerned about issues like nuclear disarmament and South Africa while Pneumatics want to skip politics and talk about areas like healing and the deeper prayer life.

Rather than drawing up battle lines against each other, we eventually agreed any subject with a demonstrable biblical base would be examined. Exploration would not necessarily mean endorsement. However if we were to be truly the body of Christ, we needed to be able to discuss differences of opinion while holding each other in esteem. The more we searched for biblical direction the clearer it became that the whole range of issues from social concerns to evangelism was important. The question was one of balance not exclusion. Consequently, it was important for each camp to “have its day.” Our goal became equilibrium rather than conformity.

Gains and Losses

During these nine years, we have had both gains and losses. While we have learned a considerable amount about maintaining harmony, I can identify three problems we have not solved.

First, we have found we cannot satisfy the extremist in any group. Those who maintain an absolute position on either end of the spectrum are not going to stay in the boat with the others. I now suspect it may be unrealistic to expect to keep in our church people with little flexibility.

Second, there is always a tendency to shortchange one group or the other. Regardless of what is said, the pastor’s personal preferences tend to surface. None of us can stand on a perfect center.

I’ve tried to be candid about my own biases and open to correction. This seems to cover a multitude of prejudices. Rather than seeking a perfectly balanced system, we aim for creativity and allow one another a considerable margin for error.

Compromise for compromise’s sake is a poor basis for decision making. That stance can turn a pastor into an ecclesiastical wimp and create the very conflicts it is trying to avoid. An ultimate allegiance to becoming the Body of Christ is a more significant goal than is just settling for harmony.

Third, many times the staff may be placed in a bind. When philosophies of ministry tug from both sides, it is not always easy to know which way to jump. Staff members may have very different views among themselves! The result is that the staff is forced to communicate regularly or end up in public confrontations. Of course, if this situation forces us to communicate better, this “problem” is not all bad.

In summary, the danger of seeking unity is the tendency to become all things to all people in such a way that we become bland and undefined. If a church is too willing to compromise its theological ideals, it gains the world and loses its own soul.

On the other hand, important gains have come out of the melting pot. I believe these positive aspects far outweigh the negative.

First, our worship is more powerful and dynamic than it ever would have been had we allowed either group sole control. Not only have the emphases blended, but the worshipers have come together in genuine community. The result is a powerful release of the Holy Spirit. New forms and expressions have arisen that are meaningful to both groups and transcend their differences.

For example, by alternating liturgical forms on subsequent Sundays, various groups often see what is meaningful to others without feeling that their interests are being slighted. Periodically we develop “sermon dramas” to convey the message. As the sermon unfolds, actors come out of the congregation to act out the message. Or the choir may sing hymns in a cantata style to further develop the sermon. Because we have cultivated a practice of using forms of music from nearly every period of history, we can express themes in an appropriate style that will embody the message.

Second, many people have had their horizons expanded. The dialogue has made them not only more aware of the others but more perceptive about themselves. Most have come to see the security of an attitude of possessing the total truth is simply false. The “feelers” have had to recognize the value of becoming more cerebral and the “thinkers” have discovered the importance of personal encounter. Each camp has become more balanced through this atmosphere.

Third, the entire body of believers has been made more alive and productive. We benefit from the organizational stability the Pragmatics provide with their planning. Our more spontaneous Pneumatics bear a powerful witness to the importance of trusting God for the results. Our congregation tends to have a vigor that is the result of the pulsating life both groups bring.

Several years ago, a large local congregation got into one of those church fights that damages the whole Christian community. The fallout scattered the church’s flock forever. Although we certainly did not want to profit from a sister church’s catastrophe, we did become a haven for some of the refugees.

Later I asked one of the families why they had come to our church.

“Robert,” the woman said, “a church fight is almost worse than divorce. We didn’t think our faith could stand another church disaster. As we observed this body of believers, however, we sensed that such a fight won’t happen here. I can’t tell you how important that is to us.”

I realized she was also telling me we had fulfilled a responsibility I had not considered. Preserving the unity of the body of Christ affects both evangelism and nurture. A reputation for unity is a crucial aspect of John 13:35-“all will know that you are my disciples if you love one another.”

We have learned that unity can be achieved on a more lofty basis than homogeneous social class, race, or common religious background. Unity is more than a noble ideal. It can be achieved, but it does require effort and, at times, courage.

By stepping between the onrushing trains and people with their “loco-motives,” we risk being run over, but we may also be able to prevent the catastrophic collisions, with all the resulting casualties, and keep the precious cargo moving on down the line.

Robert L. Wise is pastor of Our Lord’s Community Church in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.

IMPEDIMENTS TO UNITY

Richard Baxter, English Puritan clergyman and writer (1615-1691), learned the hard way how elusive unity can be. A moderate dissenter in the Church of England, he was forced out by the Act of Uniformity and was later imprisoned for eighteen months on the charge that he had libeled the church. His numerous writings include The Reformed Pastor, from which this excerpt is taken.

Too often we find men who are averse to the unity of the church and who are jealous of it. If Roman Catholics tend to idolize the church, shall Protestants go to the opposite extreme, to deny it, to disregard it, and to be divisive? For it is a great and common sin to be a part of religion as a faction, and to confine one’s love and respect to a denomination instead of the church universal.

Men do not have a universal concern and respect for the whole church. Rather, they look to their own denomination as if that were the whole. Lutherans, Calvinists, and their subordinate divisions will pray for the prosperity of their own party and rejoice and give thanks when things go well with their own denomination. But if others suffer, they have little regard for it, as if it were not any loss at all to the church.

How rare then it is to meet a man who suffers and bleeds for the wounds of the church universal, and who takes them to his heart as his own sufferings. Likewise, how few there are who have understood the true state of the sectarian controversies between various church groups, or discerned how many of them have been verbal, and have seen how many real causes there are for division!

What divides us?

Most of the matters that keep us divided relate to church government: its right form and order. If men’s hearts were really sensible of the church’s case and sought to love each other unfeignedly and seek unity earnestly, the creation of peace would be an easy task.

Instead, the story too often is of learned and godly ministers of the church who first of all disagreed among themselves, and then led on their people in those disagreements! We will read and preach on those texts that command men to follow peace with all men and to live peaceably with them, and yet we are so far from its practice that we snarl at, malign, and censure one another. It is as if zeal of holiness were the antithesis of zeal for peace, so that holiness and peace were irreconcilable.

This we have seen to our sorrow. Instead of living with one another as one heart, one soul, and one mouthpiece (to promote each other’s faith and holiness, and to admonish and help each other against sin), we have lived on the contrary in mutual jealousies, and drowned holy love in bitter contentions. We have studied how to disgrace and undermine one another to promote our party’s cause. We have also drawn our people into these struggles, dividing and slandering one another.

The effects of division

The public takes notice of all this and not only derides us, but becomes hardened against all religion. When we try to persuade them, they see so many factions that they do not know which to join-and think it is better not to join any of them. Thus thousands grow in contempt of all religion by our divisions.

If you are offended by my harsh language, I can tell you I have learned it of God. You should be much more offended by such satanic practices. The Holy Ghost would teach us, “Who is a wise man and endued with knowledge among you? Let him show out of a good conversation his works with meekness of wisdom. But if you have bitter envying and strife in your hearts, glory not, and lie not against the truth. This wisdom descendeth not from above, but is earthly, sensual, devilish. For where envying and strife is, there is confusion and evil work. But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy. And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace of them that make peace” (James 3:13-18). I pray that you read these words again and again, and study them.

I know that matters of truth are not to be received upon our credit alone. Yet our credible examples may do much to remove prejudice and remove the blockages at the entrance of men’s minds. They may thus procure a more equal hearing to the truth, and thus be to the good of our people.

Copyright © 1986 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.