Page 5361 – Christianity Today (2024)

The decorations were complete. The new washpan for bobbing apples stood full of water. A sack of apples leaned against the wall nearby. Forty bananas lay on the kitchen counter for making banana splits. The buns and chips were stacked high along with cookies and a mountain of soda pop.

Preparations for the all-night party had kept me running all day long. I was expecting about thirty-five teens and four sponsors. Everyone in the youth group had said they would be there, and several had asked if they could bring friends. As the hour drew closer, l began to worry that I might not have enough food. I could hardly resist the urge to run to the grocery store for more bananas.

Two senior high girls showed up and went into the nursery to discuss boys. Two more girls and a boy much younger than the girls came in together. One of the sponsoring couples showed up. And that was it.

Four girls. One boy. Two sponsors. A mountain of food. And me.

So there I was with nearly $150 spent and an activity planned for more than thirty teens. None of my games would work. You can’t run relays with two on a team. The devotional had been planned as a singing and sharing time. Should I send everybody home or what?

I had a bad case of the youth ministry blues.

As I remember that experience, several others come to mind that did not go according to plan. Most were times I did not get a gold star by my name.

There is nothing like sitting in a big McDonald’s for an Early Morning Before School Bible Study (which is supposed to go over great with teens) and having only one teen show up. Whatever happened to the Noon Prayer Meeting phenomenon? I had figured by the third week we would be renting the McDonald’s and perhaps a Hardee’s down the street. Alas, on the third week I was still hearing the same excuses I heard the first week, and attendance had dropped off!

It took me awhile to figure out I was making some of the same simple mistakes each time I planned a program or activity.

First Mistake: Last-Minute Planning

Honestly, I never thought I would be guilty of that. I prepared in advance. I put things on a calendar. Months ahead I knew what we were going to do. But I spent the last hours before the activity putting it together.

Because I was doing the functional planning at the last minute, I had time to plan for only one set of circ*mstances. I usually planned for the maximum potential that could possibly show up. I put out a lot of feelers, and out of the nebulous I came up with an expectation of who would be there. Then I planned the activity to accommodate that many. I never made an alternate plan to fall back on if things did not go as expected.

I remember the first time I really made an alternate plan. I had written the executive head of our denomination’s department of youth, inviting him to come speak at a banquet. He wrote back and accepted. I wrote him again thanking him for his acceptance. All three letters had the date, time, and place mentioned.

Early in the week of the banquet, I spent an hour drafting a “small talk” just in case he had car trouble during the two-hour drive.

The appointed hour arrived. The guest speaker did not. I called and found he was at home. Wasn’t the banquet next Monday night? He had it right on his calendar, but not in his head.

I never expected him not to show up. But he didn’t, and there was no way to wait on him . . . so we went right on without him. Perhaps the evening wasn’t as great or dynamic, but it wasn’t a failure either.

Second Mistake: Trying to Do It All Myself

Once I worked in a church where the pastor’s wife told me that when her son was a youth minister, “he didn’t need any help. He was so good he could do everything by himself.”

Anyone who works with teens for any length of time will admit that it is a lot safer and sometimes easier to do everything. If you delegate responsibility and depend on young people, they will frequently leave you holding the bag on the proverbial snipe hunt. A sudden biological mood shift or courtship upheaval-and a key teen just will not show up. Can the success or failure of an activity be placed in hands that sometimes drop the ball?

From time to time I find myself doing things the safe way. I go ahead and decorate because “they” don’t want to get out of bed early on Saturday. I plan the refreshments and buy the food. I plan the games, plan the devotion, plan the publicity, and plan on the teens coming.

No wonder I wind up with huge expectations. After all, the planning was so well done! It’s not my fault they didn’t come. But I still walk away mumbling, “How can I get them to come to the next deal?”

Youth ministry involves the dynamics of failed responsibility as well as the joy of shared success. Everything does not depend on my performance. When a young person fails, the other teens and I must work through that and grow from the experience, perhaps more than we can from fulfilled responsibility. It is growth of a different sort.

That is not to say that involving teens works perfectly and cures youth ministry blues. Sometimes, a young person will help plan an activity and accept a part in executing it, but on the actual night . . . he goes out on a date. And there you are.

I have realized that getting teens to come is always going to be something of a problem. They must eventually make the decision, but it helps them decide when they are involved and responsible.

Third Mistake: Spending More Than I Meant To

I have never grossly overestimated the cost of any youth group activity! However, I will never be able to make the opposite statement. It is extremely easy to underestimate the cost of youth programs.

Sitting in McDonald’s by yourself is nothing compared to that sinking feeling when you realize you should have charged every teen sixty-two dollars instead of twenty-seven.

Actually, getting the cost lower has very little to do with a successful youth program. Yet I have spent long discussions on local and district boards trying to make something cheaper. Teens will come up with or earn whatever you ask if they understand why the activity will cost that much. It doesn’t matter if it’s fifty cents for a hot dog or two thousand dollars to go to Israel.

I have spent hours adjusting a retreat schedule so a teen will spend only forty-five dollars instead of sixty. The next week one of the prime families I worried about packed up and went to England for a month.

The first task is to figure out what trips and activities will really cost. The second is not to feel guilty about asking for a little more than that.

The last four years my youth program has had to be 90 percent self-supporting. I have learned from numerous sinking moments that any trip will cost more in reality than it does on paper. Even when I had made the trip before and tried to allow for inflation, I got caught short. During the first two years, my wife had only two questions when I announced an activity: “What will it cost the teens, and how much is it going to cost us?”

Not every teen that signs up to go will show up-and that is planned income spent but not received. Many times the young people have very legitimate excuses, but the result is still Man, are we going to lose money on this one.

A significant advance deposit, or payment in full, one week before the activity makes planning the budget much simpler. Once teens have committed 25 percent of the cost, they are much less likely to back out. Also with advance deposits, I can compare anticipated costs with what I am really going to receive. I know then whether I’m going to have to cut a corner or whether I can relax.

I’ve learned another thing about self-supporting youth ministry: Activities that draw a large number of teens should be planned to do better than break even. A canoe trip that draws outside teens should pay for itself and your Bible study curriculum for a quarter or even a year. An all-night lock-in should make enough to pay for the next banquet’s guest speaker.

Fourth Mistake: Not Keeping the Schedule Given to Parents

Parents do not like to wait. They begin worrying as soon as the group leaves, and it gets worse if you’re not back on time.

“Maybe they had an accident.” “They could have had a flat.” “They could be stuck on the side of the road.” “I wonder why they didn’t call the church and let us know they were going to be late.”

Trust relationships are damaged if the youth minister announces a schedule and then changes it “in flight.”

Most of us say to ourselves, “At fifty-five miles per hour it will take two hours and forty-five minutes to get there. If we leave at 7 A.M., we’ll be there by ten. If we leave at 8 P.M., we’ll be home by eleven.” All that is reasonable and fine in theory.

But the typical summer trip to anywhere goes something like this: At ten minutes before seven, the daughter of a board member calls and is running late. She is leaving for the church “right this minute” and could we please wait? So we roll out at 7:15. We are still on schedule to arrive at ten, but it’s close. At nine o’clock in a distant city a doughnut shop is spotted, and a quick ten-minute stop somehow becomes thirty. To add to our problems, we have picked the day Farmer Brown has chosen to drive his tractor to town. The crawl goes on for miles. After numerous red lights, we arrive at 11:15 A.M.

Soon there is a mass movement to get the youth leader to agree to stay later. After a while, he or she agrees and dutifully calls the church to let them know the group is going to be an hour later than scheduled. All of the parents (hopefully) are notified to be there at midnight instead of eleven.

As it gets close to one in the morning, parents get very worried. Finally at 12:50 A.M. we pull in. What happened? Very nearly a repeat of the morning.

Not everyone got back to the bus on time. An unscheduled stop HAD to be made. You can’t argue too long with biological functions. When we stopped for a minute to allow nature to take its course-somebody ordered a hamburger from the restaurant next to the service station. …

Here are three guidelines I use that help parents avoid worry:

1. Announce the morning departure time about an hour before you absolutely must be on the road. When everybody complains about how early it is, you can move it up thirty minutes. You are still ahead. But do not change any times once they are in print and distributed.

2. Call the church or have the teens call their parents when you have mechanical trouble or are changing the return time.

3. Announce your return time about forty-five minutes later than you really expect to be back. Parents are so happy when you get back early.

The price of freedom is eternal vigilance. Youth ministry also requires a sort of eternal vigilance, but frequently I seem to have . . .

… A Momentary Lapse

“Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water” is the way the producer of Jaws II advertised the movie. Likewise, just when you thought it was safe to take a little nap . . . you can get shark-bit. Usually it’s not too serious, but it can still give you the youth ministry blues. You can go around for several days asking yourself, “Is this the thanks I get?”

One youth minister with two volunteer sponsors hosted sixty-five teens at an all-night party. Along about 2 A.M. everybody seemed to run out of steam as far as the planned agenda was concerned. The youth minister decided it was pointless to keep trying with everybody going to sleep. So he announced they could lie down or talk quietly. Considering the hour and the circ*mstances, it seemed like a good plan.

But as Private Pyle would say, “Surprise, surprise.”

Sunday morning there was a huge hole in the sanctuary ceiling where one of the teens had stepped through the Sheetrock while walking on the rafters . . . playing chase in the attic. Luckily he had not fallen all the way through and landed on the pews below.

The major topics for discussion at Sunday dinner were: (1) What were the teens doing in the attic? and (2) Where was the youth minister?

Spending more than you planned is one thing. Sitting by yourself in McDonald’s is another. But being the roast duck for the congregation’s noonday meal is something else!

Even good kids will get carried away in a loosely structured situation. A clear understanding of expected and prohibited behavior coupled with an adequate teen/adult ratio will reduce the chance of shark bite.

Each one of these:

l. last-minute planning

2. doing it all yourself

3. spending more than you meant to

4. not keeping the schedule you announced

5. a momentary lapse of control

can give you a blue week. And each one can be repeated each time you plan an activity. While they are simple to correct, they deserve constant attention in the planning and implementation of every youth program.

Rickey Short is pastor of First Church of the Nazarene, Waurika, Oklahoma.

Copyright © 1984 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

During the past decade, I’ve counseled scores of pastors whose lives could best be described by Datsun’s phrase We are driven!

Remember the commercials? Little pickups airborne over crests of hills. 280-Z’s eating curves. The advertising agency packed a world of meaning into those three words.

It may be a great slogan for an automaker, but it’s a danger sign for pastors propelled by unrealistic expectations. Many ministers today are headed toward the mental, physical, and spiritual salvage yard because they expect too much of themselves. And most do not have a clear idea of the forces driving them to that tragic end.

Forces on the Accelerator

Part of the problem lies in the nature of the call to the ministry, a call to exemplary conduct as well as unselfish service. Yes, there are legitimate demands upon Christian leaders to model what they preach. Paul’s instructions to Timothy are clear concerning the qualifications of elders and deacons. Yet some pastors take these scriptural foundations and construct an elaborate structure of personal expectations far beyond the Architect’s intention. Not many admit it, but the bottom line they have drawn for themselves comes pretty close to being divine. If they have spiritual doubts or family problems, they feel guilty. Simply put, they do not permit themselves to be human.

Another contributor to a driven life is the nature of helping professions. Trying to preach a sermon of challenge and hope, most pastors are assailed by the faces of people who have confided incredible stories of tragedy and heartache. Pastors can carry heavy loads, but there’s a point at which it becomes too much. Needs of the congregation combine with the pastor’s own need to be needed, pushing the load beyond the breaking point. You can work twenty-four hours a day, and there will always be someone else needing your attention.

Our goal-oriented culture, with its need to succeed, also feeds personal expectations. The pastor slugging away in a one-hundred-member rural church is rarely praised. The good press usually goes to those preaching to big crowds in the city. The small-church pastor thinks, I should be doing that. Unfortunately, many denominational conventions and ministers’ meetings feed the problem by inviting speakers only from large churches who tell the secrets of their success. There’s nothing wrong with telling of God’s blessing, but it can be awfully tough on the pastor struggling in a small church.

But I see the deepest struggle in those facing midlife, those who have been in ministry fifteen to twenty years. Suddenly, it seems, they’re no longer able to bounce back from disappointments. Questions about what they realistically will achieve in the remaining years produce a profound sense of futility and pessimism. In addition, personal needs for intimacy may be catching up with them. They may have been able to deny those needs for a long time by pushing them under a heavy workload and sacrificing family life for “the good of the church.” But now, more than anything else, they’re lonely, and without knowing it, prime candidates for extramarital affairs.

The pastors we counsel at Marble Retreat are, for the most part, somewhere near this point of discouragement and despair. More than half are facing marital difficulties. Others are dealing with a personal or professional crisis. No matter what the problem, an important part of the helping process is working on the pastor’s level of expectations.

Unconscious Motivators

Unlocking the dark closet of unconscious motivators is an important step toward spiritual health. There may be several of these factors at work within us.

Anger. One recently retired pastor came to us because he found himself mistreating and verbally abusing his wife. He desperately wanted to change.

As he told about his family background and years of ministry, a story of hostility and conflict emerged. He was like the man whose army record read, “He fought with General Bradley, General Clark, and General Patton. He couldn’t get along with anyone.” For years he had been at war, sometimes silently, sometimes vocally, with his denominational hierarchy. He usually dealt with it by changing churches, but it was only a matter of time until the problem surfaced again.

Searching for the root of his hostility, he told of growing up in a tough city neighborhood where life was a no-win situation. He never knew when a bigger kid would jump him and take what he had. He had entered the ministry with the idea that all of life was like his neighborhood-people waiting to pounce, and his only defense was to get them first. He had never connected his childhood anger with his distrust and lack of success as a pastor.

Although that same hostility pervaded his marriage, he had developed a defense system to deal with it. During his days of active ministry, he compensated for his unhappiness at home by being a great guy to the people in his congregation and gaining all his emotional support from them. But when he retired, he no longer had that, and the problems at home multiplied.

When he discovered the root of his hostility, he was able to confront it and deal with it. Before that, anger had driven him as an unseen, subconscious tyrant.

Fear. The most common is the fear of rejection. If we fear too much the disapproval of others, then we do not feel free to do anything that might jeopardize their approval.

We falsely assume that most pastors have the advantage of being raised in kind and loving Christian homes. That assumption does great disservice. Many pastors have come from very difficult family backgrounds with rejection or separation playing major roles.

One pastor told of his painful memory at age five of being left on a stranger’s doorstep along with his little brother. His divorced mother abandoned them because her new boyfriend did not like them. He remembers watching her drive away.

That kind of emotional scar often surfaces years later in a fear of separation or death. The pastor who shared that story was driven to try and maintain every relationship so no one would ever leave him again. He found it impossible to say no. He was in agony when someone left his church and joined another. For him to think about leaving his church and accepting another assignment was almost impossible.

Guilt. It makes little difference whether guilt is real or imagined; the impact is the same when it is unresolved. If a pastor lived a worldly, sinful life before coming to Christ, lots of residual guilt can remain. Some pastors have experienced great difficulty applying God’s grace to their own personal load of guilt. In some cases, they may be using the ministry as a means to work out their own atonement.

I’ve encountered other pastors burdened by guilt for things their parents had done. Whether alcoholic fathers or reprobate mothers, the offspring felt they owed a debt to God and humanity for their parents’ sin.

The important thing to remember is that these factors-anger, fear, guilt-operate at the unconscious level. Because they are not readily available to conscious scrutiny, they are relentless taskmasters. They can produce a frenzy of activity, yet leave no trace of the real cause. They are a spiritual carbon monoxide whose presence is usually detected only after it causes sickness or snuffs out a life.

The Road to Healthy Expectations

In the face of these deeply rooted factors, the outlook seems dismal. But I’m not a pessimist. My wife, Melissa, and I spend a great deal of time helping pastors explore practical ways to avoid these emotional dead ends while building healthy expectations.

I suggest four ways to assess your own expectations and to set realistic goals and attain them.

First, get in touch with your own expectations. Take some time to list them on a sheet of paper in different areas of your life. Complete some sentences like:

“In my relationship with my wife, I expect to . . .”

“As a father, I expect myself to . . .”

“As a pastor, I won’t be satisfied with my performance unless I . . .”

“The most important goals I have for myself as a person are . . .”

It may be helpful to articulate these expectations to another person. You may be able to realistically assess your expectations alone, but it’s very difficult. The same kind of blinders that contribute to our unrealistic expectations hinder us from discovering what they are even when we make a concerted effort to do so.

When things produce pain, we cope by creating defenses. These defenses never solve the problem, but they enable us to endure or ignore it. If we’re serious about discovering our flaws, we’ll probably need to sit down with someone who knows us and ask, “What do you see in me that needs to change?”

For most pastors, that person is their spouse-if they can risk the encounter. It’s always risky to ask someone who knows us well to level with us, but how we need it! Like the wounds of a surgeon’s scalpel, the words of a true friend are the beginning of healing. The experience can bring healing for the spouse as well.

Sometimes a close friend or colleague may be the one to help us unmask and face ourselves. Lots of pastors today seek out a professor or friend from seminary days. Often, these older friendships were forged during shared adversity. Seminary can be a difficult time of working two jobs, living in housing with paper-thin walls, and amid everything else, trying to give studies the attention they need. For those who survive it together, a deep bonding can occur. That’s the kind of friend to whom a pastor will listen when he cannot listen to others.

No matter who it is, another person is needed to help separate conscious and unconscious motivators. When it comes to evaluating life’s expectations, two are a great deal better than one.

Second, try to separate external expectations from internal ones. In evaluating internal versus external expectations, it often helps to ask, “Where did that idea come from? When or where did I adopt that as a goal or expectation for myself? Does my congregation really expect this of me, or is most of it coming from within myself?”

I know several pastors who have explored these questions with a few of their key church leaders in a retreat setting and made some liberating discoveries. I recommend a two-day period, perhaps a weekend, when the setting is less structured than a church committee room and everyone has time to relax and relate in an informal, personal way. The pastor will probably have to initiate things by modeling the kind of open sharing necessary. By sharing himself, his expectations for the church, and some of his struggles, others can open up and express their feelings as well.

Often the pastor will find that people do not expect him to be at every church function. They would be quite happy for him to take a couple of days a week off and spend more time with his family. The drivenness he blamed on them has been coming from within, not without.

Third, compare your conscious goals and expectations against the unconscious motivators of anger, fear, and guilt. Most of the goals we pursue and the methods we use are the result of conscious decision. Yet the underlying expectations are largely the product of subconscious forces.

I’m not suggesting you try to psychoanalyze yourself, but simply be aware that the subconscious can be a harsh taskmaster if left unexamined and unexposed.

People who struggle most with goals and expectations tend to be more reactive than intentional. By that, I mean they have not stopped to identify a set of goals that are available for their conscious, rational evaluation. They tend to be driven by gusts of circ*mstance instead of knowing where they’re going.

It’s important to set goals, whether spoken or recorded, because they’re then available for examination. We may choose to retain a goal and work toward it or abandon it as unrealistic. But we can do neither until we identify it. Pastors who have no goals wind up tyrannized by unconscious fears and feelings.

People with lots of unconscious motivation also tend to think in extremes. To them, life is a matter of all or none. Instead of looking at a single unmet goal and saying, “I failed to achieve that,” they are likely to extend the impact of falling short and say, “I’m a failure.” That’s the kind of unhealthy generalization produced by unconscious motivation.

Finally, examine how closely your sense of self-worth is wrapped up in fulfilling your expectations. If our sense of value as a person depends on living up to our expectations, then we’re headed for some painful failures. All of us will fail from time to time, but we won’t be devastated if we do not put all our emotional eggs in one basket.

I’ve been fortunate in that most things have come fairly easy for me. If I ran for an office in school, I got it. If I took an exam, I passed it. All that held true until I faced my psychiatric board exams.

I passed the written portion of the test and then went to Seattle for the oral portion. We were shown a short film containing a psychological vignette and the background of a patient. Later, each of us met with an examiner who asked us to make an assessment and diagnosis. I could not answer his first question. I completely missed what he was after, and it left me rattled for the rest of the exam. After that, it didn’t make any difference what I said. The exam was over. I had failed.

That was a devastating experience. Later, Melissa and I rode the ferry across Puget Sound to Bremerton. The sound of the water and the gulls along with the sting of the cold spray helped me gain some perspective and begin thinking of another attempt at the oral exam in a few months. Somehow my self-worth returned, and I was not left feeling worthless by the experience.

The extent of our emotional stake in our expectations is critical. When we think, If I don’t achieve this, I’m worthless. People will reject me as a person if I fail, we’ve invested more than any goal is worth.

Our sense of worth must be anchored in God’s love and acceptance of us. If it’s tied up in achievement, something is controlling me besides the Spirit of God, and I’d better back off. If I am driven to make myself valuable, I’m not free to truly minister.

I love and yet struggle with Matthew 11:28-30-“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

I struggle because I do not see this passage being lived out in ministers’ lives. I see pastors wanting to follow Christ and taking up his yoke, but somehow not finding the rest. Instead of a lighter load, they have a heavier one.

I don’t know that I’ll ever completely understand that passage, but it does offer hope. Our worth does not depend on living up to human expectations. Part of exchanging our burdens for Christ’s yoke is recognizing the factors contributing to the tyranny of unrealistic expectations in our lives. God’s power does not eliminate the struggle to see ourselves as we are, but it enhances our ability.

We often refer to the gospel of Jesus Christ as good news for those who receive our Lord by faith. But the gospel is also good news for those who preach it.

Louis McBurney, M.D., is founder of Marble Retreat, Marble, Colorado.

David McCasland is a free-lance writer in Colorado Springs, Colorado.

Copyright © 1984 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

The following article, which appeared last January in Theology Today, is reprinted here with permission. We also asked two pastors and two seminary presidents to respond to its ideas.

To speak of the relationship of the “seminary” to the “church” is to reveal a conceptual canker on the church today. For the seminary is as much the church as the local congregation. As near to the church as smoke to flame, to position the “seminary” against the “church” is to position the seminary against itself. The academy and the chapel are part of the same whole-the body of Christ. They need each other, for the church is incomplete when either is missing.

I

The most prominent feature of theological education today is the rediscovery of the congregation. For the past forty years, and indeed ever since seminaries breathed the air of biblical criticism, the body of Christ has not been fully united. Various organs of that body, the mind (theological seminaries) and the heart (koinonia congregations), have each been prone to say to the other, “I have no need of you” (1 Cor. 12:21).

The beginnings of theological education in America were quite different. Ministers were then trained to be “masters of the common faith,” in Glenn T. Miller’s marvelous phrase. The connection between the faith of the members of the church and the faith of the “doctors of the church” was, up until the last two decades of the nineteenth century, an intimate and trusting one. But the way higher criticism was taught shattered this relationship, as ministers began to be trained in a faith quite different from their people. Just five years ago, for example, an extremely bright seminary student rejected my pleas for the development of a colloquial theology based on the reconnecting of the chapel and academy. He responded with a haughty insistence that lay persons could be consumers of biblical interpretation, but seldom participants: “People in the pew can never learn the skills necessary to properly understand the text. It is a waste of time even to try to teach them.”

II

For the last forty years, the seminary and the congregation have proved to be very good at getting things wrong about each other. To the congregation the image of the seminary has been one of dry-as-dust, desk-bound professors whose academic fussiness (what Freud called the “narcissism of small differences”) does battle with the problems of the day-before-yesterday and whose academic uncommittedness occupies empty seats on Sunday morning. To a congregation on fire, seminaries have all the attraction of ice. Like the student who complained about his New Testament professor (“she has taken away my Lord, and I know not where to find him”), congregations have complained that seminaries promote a kind of placebo piety (an it’s-all-in-the-head faith), an education where nothing is missing but what matters most. Disturbed by what is perceived to be large portions of theological goulash served with only a garnish of spirituality, congregations shake their heads and wonder. If the study of God does not bring one closer to God, what good is it? Even when the communication continues between congregations and seminaries, congregations have the uneasy feeling that seminaries tell what we already know in language we can’t understand.

The seminary’s attitude toward the congregation has often been one of uncomprehending superiority, and its response to being badgered by bothered congregations has been far from sweet-tempered. Academics do not suffer fools gladly, of which there appear to be plenty in every denomination (as in every seminary), and find insufficient balance of reason and faith in the clich‚ piety and shirt-sleeve theology dominating popular religious life. Congregations do not seem to be interested in what seminary professors are interested in, or even tough-minded enough to pursue responsibly the questions they are interested in. The issues congregations seem willing to ponder seriously are about as controversial as a debate on the merits of the beatitudes. When the seminary turns its head to look at the congregation or denomination, it often musters only a grimacing glance.

III

All this is beginning to change. Congregations are coming to realize that seminary professors generally carry a lot of learning lightly, many of them have held at one time or another the greatest title in the world (“pastor”), and all want to be seen and heard as “doctors of the church.” Similarly, seminaries are coming to realize that, in the words of James Hopewell, “the congregation is as central to theological education as the human body is to medical education.” For a seminary to ignore the congregation or denomination is to saw away at the very branch it is sitting on. The amazing speed with which slow-moving theological institutions within this past decade established D.Min. degrees and continuing education programs is solid evidence of an attempt to reconnect pastors with seminaries. The support for the local congregation has become a diapason of seminary life. Not since the nineteenth century has there been such a widespread movement to bring theological curricula into significant conversation with congregational life.

One hates to throw ashes in everyone’s ice cream. But while seminaries and congregations may be discovering the facts of life about each other, they are still getting a lot of these facts wrong. This is because the relationship is not yet based on trust and intimacy, but on need and neurosis. In many ways it is a relationship born of frustration and fear-for congregations and denominations, fear of losing members; for seminaries, fear of losing their existence. Unless these unhealthy patterns of relationship are broken, what today is a neurosis in the body of Christ can tomorrow become a necrosis.

Congregations and denominations are now poised to call the shots for theological education. Denominations enjoy a surfeit of clergy, and many seminaries languish under a scarcity of students. This puts the curriculum of the seminary in a double bind-pressured on one side by the increasing rigor of requirements for acceptance into the ordained ministry, and pressured on the other by panic-stricken cries for razzmatazz courses that will solve denominational difficulties.

The “congregational paradigm” can be as fickle and faddish in its orientation and priorities as theological seminaries have been accused of being when congregations were seldom consulted or considered. At first, denominations complained that pastors were deficient in administrative skills, and demanded either through ordination standards or indirect means that seminaries emphasize “church administration” and the theology of management. Seminaries, many of which had been there before (with H. Richard Niebuhr’s “pastoral director” and Seward Hiltner’s “pastoral administrator”), by and large responded until “professionalism” became the word on the lips of theological educators, and the management of meetings and organizations almost became the pastoral trade.

Very soon denominational interest lurched in the direction of evangelism in response to the hemorrhaging of the mainline churches, and seminaries were told “let’s have more courses in evangelism.” Now the denominations have veered once again, this time in the direction of “spirituality”-without, of course, revising their stockpiling expectations in administration and evangelism. Congregations and denominations are not in the best position to dictate to seminaries what courses divinity students should have. Seminaries cannot simply add more and more courses to a curriculum, after every dressing down by denominations for failing to meet certain needs, without doing irreparable harm to the educational process.

IV

As Edward Farley has so masterfully argued, seminaries must recover their theological bearings and restore the lost overarching vision and focus to the enterprise of theological education. Only in this way can theological education remain unaffected by fashion and resist the denominational drubbings and plethora of pressures to plug various gaps and meet the need of the month. For example, it has become quite routine to take a few whacks at seminaries every now and then for being too academic in their curriculum and not “experiential” or “practical” enough. Yet this is not such a bad thing.

During the course of a national consultation on our Black Church Studies program, one of the students complained that he felt the education was too “theoretical” and did not adequately prepare him for the variety of situations he would face in the parish. As far as he was concerned, he confessed, the best course he had taken during his three years in seminary was on the administration of the black church. The response of the black bishops and denominational leaders in attendance was swift and merciless. We are not sending you here to take nuts-and-bolts courses or to get practical experience in parish life, he was told with some annoyance by the President of the Congress of National Black Churches. You will spend a lifetime in continuing your education on a practical plane, and we can always establish workshops to address specific needs or deficiencies as they arise. We send you to seminary for three years to get what you will really need to begin your ministry-the broad, biblical, historical, and theological background for ministry in the church today. If you aren’t getting that by shunning those courses, then the problem is not with the seminary, but with you.

The seminary and the congregation would do well to sit down together and read in each other’s presence 1 Corinthians, chapter 12. The body of Christ is not whole or totally present in the congregation unless the seminary is there-and vice versa. The health of the church as a Christbody community depends on the parts of the body performing their assigned functions in a common spirit of partnership and purpose. It is only on this basis that the current healing between the seminary and the congregation will be a lasting one.

Leonard I. Sweet is provost of Colgate Rochester Divinity School and also minister of the United Methodist Church of the Resurrection, both in Rochester, New York.

* * *

Although I disagree with Dr. Sweet over the original cause of the tensions between seminaries and congregations, no one could disagree that there is a growing gap between the two.

To my mind, its sources are more general than the introduction of biblical criticism. The crisis is rooted in the alliance between seminaries and the academic establishment. Seminary professors, caught between the demands of the academy and the values of the church, have usually pleased the academy. The academy, with its values of academic elitism, pursuit of intellectual minutiae, and presumed scholarly objectivity, has become the credentialing agency for seminary faculty-to the detriment of the congregation.

What to do?

Should we ask the congregation what it wants? Sweet is right in noting that this way has its perils. I have not been happy with some attempts at the seminary to get “practical” and let the congregation call the shots. Why was it that the so-called “practical” courses I took in seminary-church administration, polity, even preaching and worship-proved so impractical in my first parish? I was taught how to administer a church in the inner city, how to conduct church board meetings using corporate management skills, how to preach to Christianity’s cultured despisers. None of this was useful in my rural Georgia parish.

Of course, some might say the answer would be better or even more practical courses and professors. But I, like Sweet, am unimpressed by much of the “congregation-based learning” I have observed in the seminaries. I know it is all the rage today, but too many of these courses are superficial, descriptive rather than prescriptive, ad hoc, and, in an odd way, utterly impractical to the long-term demands of the parish. Why was it that I could say, three years into parish ministry, that the most useful courses I took in seminary were the most theoretical? My course in church history, in which we walked through a dozen heresies, was more helpful in administering a rural South Carolina parish than my course in congregational planning.

Having lived in both worlds, as a parish pastor and a seminary professor, I can testify that each of these is a unique and specifically demanding vocation. The burden of the parish ministry is the burden of the day-to-day demands of congregational embodiment of the faith. The burden of the seminary teacher is the weight of thinking for the church, standing back from important struggles and reflecting upon their implications, worrying about what makes our contemporary prayer and practice either heretical or orthodox. The church needs people who are willing to bear each burden.

A few years ago, I attended a national denominational conference on evangelism. There was much tough talk about the failings of the seminaries. A resolution was passed urging our seminaries to require practical courses in evangelism techniques and strategies and to establish professorships in evangelism.

Finally, a pastor from rural West Virginia said, “Look, I’m out here where the evangelization must be done. And I can tell you, we don’t need any more programs or strategies. Our problem is not that we don’t know how to communicate the gospel. Our problem is that we don’t have a gospel. We have lost something to say to another person that is ultimately significant.

“So let’s ask our schools to do what they do best for us-to help us think as clearly as we can as Christians, to give us something faithful and important to say to the world. Then leave the rest to me and my people. We’ll find a way to say it.”

William Willimon, pastor

Northside United Methodist Church

Greenville, South Carolina

* * *

The uneasy alliance between the seminary and the congregation is natural and not necessarily undesirable. Creative tension is a sign of health in the body of Christ. If two members are coordinated under the control of the Head, however, they perform complementary functions. Without that control, all signals are short-circuited.

Biblical criticism, as Dr. Sweet suggests, short-circuited the deity of Christ and the authority of his Word as the point of control. No surprise should follow. Seminaries and congregations lost their common confession that “Jesus is Lord” and became distant members reacting erratically to external pressures. Seminaries took their cues not from the needs of the congregation but from the expectations of the academic community, with its emphasis upon scholarly research, critical thinking, intellectual freedom, and professional publication.

At the same time, congregations were swept into a social revolution where Christian values, institutions, and authority were turned upside down. Like neurotics trapped in a vicious cycle where every response aggravates the problem, seminaries and congregations moved further and further from each other until they came to the verge of war.

The divisive influence of biblical criticism hit hardest those seminaries that represent theological liberalism. Evangelical seminaries have stayed closer to their congregations because of their common confession of Christ and their common commitment to the authority of his Word. Still, an air of suspicion lingers in the evangelical community about seminary education. Last summer at Amsterdam, Billy Graham mentioned the congregation that set up two stipulations in its search for a pastor. One, they did not want a seminary graduate; two, they wanted no one who had taken Greek. Even though his comment was made with tongue in cheek, it reveals the underlying tension.

How can seminary and congregation become friends? First and foremost, their common confession of Christ and their common commitment to the authority of his Word must never be broken. On this foundation must be built the common purpose of the Great Commission, which cannot be accomplished without both units performing effectively the special task to which each is called.

If we are to work together, some form of continuing dialogue must be established. There is no substitute for professors who are also pastors in the field, so that they bring the pulse of the congregation to their classrooms. Likewise, congregations might well invite seminary teams to evaluate their ministries of worship, preaching, music, and education in order to keep the critical balance between substance and style. If expectations on both sides can be translated into learning outcomes for seminary students, a bridge will be built.

David McKenna, president

Asbury Theological Seminary

Wilmore, Kentucky

* * *

There is something to be said for a theological education that seems impractical. As I headed off to seminary, my uncle, an ordained minister, gave me this bit of advice: “Don’t bother taking all those ‘practical’ courses. You’ll learn how to run a mimeograph machine soon enough.”

He exaggerated to make a point, of course, but I took the advice and never regretted it. I avoided most courses with titles like “_____ in the Parish” (you can fill in the blank: Evangelism, Social Action, Spirituality, Administration). Instead, I immersed myself in biblical studies and theology. To my surprise, when I graduated from seminary I discovered these courses were the most helpful and “practical” of all.

In seminary I was equipped with a particular way of viewing the world that became bone-deep. In short, I learned how to think Christianly. This was an immeasurable gift. But a lifelong challenge remained: to find sufficient faith and imagination to apply it to the range of ministerial tasks, not only preaching and teaching but also evangelism, social action, and the like.

That is not to say the gap between seminary and congregation could not use a wider, sturdier bridge. Although I learned the fundamentals in seminary, I have been left to my own sometimes flawed devices in applying them to particular situations in the parish. And I am also sure my theological education would have been enriched if some of my professors had had a more intimate knowledge of the ministry they were preparing me for.

So here is a specific proposal: When seminary professors become eligible for sabbatical, why not urge them to spend it in a local parish rather than on another campus somewhere? After all, when ministers are on sabbatical, they often head for a seminary. Any bridge worth constructing must be worthy of two-way traffic. The professor could become a “theologian in residence” at a large church or in an association of smaller churches. The benefits would be enormous.

Church members would gain from the rich knowledge of the visiting professor, particularly in a time when churches seem to be looking for more adult education opportunities. If the professor is a teacher of Scripture, the possibilities are obvious. But there would be exciting possibilities for professors in other fields as well. A professor of counseling could offer a course on how to become a more effective listener. A theologian could offer a course on the basics called “Theology Is Everyone’s Business.” And so on. Beyond specific courses, a visiting professor could help a local church understand how its life and worship and work fit into larger spheres.

The minister of the church would benefit. Through the help of the professor, his or her skills could be sharpened. Particularly, the minister would get invaluable guidance in applying theory to practice. Then, perhaps, theology would be rescued from its reputation as a dusty and dormant business and would be seen for what it is-at once exciting and practical.

The professor would benefit. Obviously, it is one thing to give instructions for battle from a distance, another to be able to see what happens when those instructions are followed on the front lines. It would be a great challenge to the professor, unlike any to be found in a seminary setting. It has been said that the preacher’s task is to take the larger denominations of thought and turn them into the smaller change that anyone can use. That would be a good exercise for the seminary professor as well, a faith challenge as well as an intellectual challenge. As C. S. Lewis said, “If you cannot turn learned language into the vernacular, you either don’t believe it or don’t understand it.”

When such professors return to the seminary, they may not teach a course on “Sabbatical in the Parish,” but the knowledge gained will infuse their teaching, no matter what their area of expertise.

A practical footnote: Since most professors continue to be paid by their schools while on sabbatical, there would not be a large expense to the local church. And certainly there would still be much time to pursue private study, and maybe even a chance to try one’s professorial hand at the mimeograph machine.

Martin Copenhaver, pastor

First Congregational Church

Burlington, Vermont

* * *

The underlying causes of mistrust are more complex than Sweet-perhaps due to space limitations-has suggested. In addition to the rise of higher criticism, there has been a loss of appreciation for the ministry of the laity and the priesthood of believers. Proclamation has suffered from an uncertain locus of authority. Denominational bureaucracies have interposed themselves between the seminary and congregations. Faculty allegiances to the academy have become more dominant than loyalties to the church.

These and related factors, often theological in nature, persist as threats to seminary/congregation relations. Sweet’s solution, I fear, is more hope than substance and sidesteps difficult issues that must be faced.

Numerous and powerful parachurch organizations exert influence on the seminary’s agenda. The electronic church may now be a stronger leader and influence in the local congregation than the seminary. Much theological education, including lay and continuing education for the clergy, is being provided by independent authors and workshop leaders-some attaining “guru” status. Evangelical seminaries, for their part, have diversified to offer a variety of programs and services not directly related to preparation for church vocations. Wisely or unwisely, most evangelical seminaries have hesitated to address the growing “politization” of the faith or to engage single-issue movements in the church. As a result of all this, seminaries may be losing the opportunity to participate in the continuing reformulation of congregational life.

Competition among seminaries will become more severe if church growth slows and the surplus among the clergy becomes more acute. The higher professional demands congregations are placing on those in ministry are beginning to back up to the seminaries. But are congregations identifying, nurturing, and directing their “best and brightest” toward preparation for ministry? On the contrary, the evangelical drive for upward mobility is shunting many promising prospects toward other professions and business careers. This is surely “eating the seed corn” of the church. Seminary and congregation together must re-examine the doctrine of calling.

Finally, seminaries must see the local parish as the essential environment where the skills of ministry can be developed and perfected. Field education, as usually handled, has often failed to produce these outcomes. The traditional dichotomy between the classical academic disciplines and the applied or practical areas can best be resolved when the seminary puts its instruction within the arena of congregational life. Perhaps the seminary’s task is not completed until after the graduate has done a successful “residency” of several years in a church. Diploma as well as ordination might well wait until then.

Faculty as well as students need to draw strength, encouragement, and admonition from the congregation. The congregation, for its part, must be open to renewal and guidance from members who teach and study in the seminary.

George Brushaber, president

Bethel College and Seminary

Saint Paul, Minnesota

Copyright © 1984 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

I live with a church that has a weight problem. The weekly spread of tasty music, erudite education, scrumptious social life, and gourmet preaching seems to produce ever more poundage on our padded pews.

In fact, the fare can get so rich that sometimes I think only the dessert of the eschaton would be enough to make the saints salivate.

The bulges under the garment of success began to show after only ten years of corporate life. By 1974 we had to admit that our increasing size was bittersweet. The frequent accomplishments—new buildings, staff additions—were often interrupted by a belch of discomfort as we sensed something amiss.

I was a member of the church at that time, serving as campus pastor at the denomination’s nearby liberal-arts college. The pastoral leadership began to suggest one way to spell relief: m-i-s-s-i-o-n. But what would that solve? The mission budget was as obese as the rest of the church. Articulate guests came to the pulpit of Evangel Temple on a regular basis to remind us of the physically and spiritually starving world on the other side of those glass doors. So the bucks rolled in, but no parishioners moved out. “Mission” meant missionaries, and we had plenty of them. The congregation had yet to risk anything more than its checkbook.

Meanwhile, my wife and I were in the throes of making some long-term decisions about our ministry. The campus work was challenging—but a different challenge was growing within us: the idea of planting a new church back in Cambridge, Massachusetts. We knew the community well from the three years we had lived in the Boston area while attending Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary. The clogged streets of this Ivy League city of 120,000 were lined with empty hulks of religiosity that once teemed with parishioners. We knew from experience that there was much spiritual work to be done in this urban home of Harvard University and M.I.T.

What would Evangel Temple think about mothering a new church, not in the next suburb or county, but 1,350 miles away? What concord hath the Ozarks with New England? With a vision in hand and a lump in our throats, we approached the church leadership. They spent several weeks in prayer and discussion.

Eventually, they embraced the idea of a Cambridge diet.

When we rolled east from Springfield with our U-Haul truck and Dodge Dart, we carried part of our obese yet loving parent congregation. Not only did we take the financial support to let us give full time to the new work but also prayer support, song books purchased by the children’s classes, the promise of semiannual visits by the Evangel pastoral staff, and a communication link that has not been broken to this day. After two years, Cambridge Christian Center became financially independent, and today it thrives in the heart of this East Coast city.

But what began as a project has become a philosophy of ministry. After we had spent five years in Cambridge, Evangel Temple asked me to return to the mother church as senior pastor. Kathy and I turned them down; the invitation seemed all too self-serving. Climbing from one steeple to the next, chasing the bigger salary and the leased car were not what I wanted. After several weeks, however, we began to see the potential for leading this church into more creative “dieting.” In October 1979, we returned to Springfield.

As of today, churches have been planted in the Bronx of New York City; Bangkok, Thailand; Santa Barbara, Mexico; Ciudad Juarez, Mexico; and Danvers, Massachusetts. As part of our plan for total growth, Evangel Temple has laid the strategy to plant four more new U.S. churches by 1990.

The dynamics of dieting

That’s our story, and there’s no need to institutionalize it. While no one should copy our methodology, the following principles may be worth considering:

• First, the most effective method of evangelism is church planting. Church growth statisticians confirm this with their data, and we see the same in studying conversion growth figures in our daughter churches. We are encouraged to see that people are not just making decisions for Christ but are also deciding to grow in a local body. In a spiritual sense, every time someone comes to Christ in one of the churches we have planted, we vicariously welcome them to the altar of Evangel Temple.

• Second, large, affluent churches have to find some way to fight what Donald McGavran calls “redemption and lift.” This malady has plagued the church for centuries as people from the wrong side of the tracks experience the New Birth and soon find that all things have become new. Their new discipline and industriousness results in moving up the socioeconomic ladder (“lift”)—to the point that eventually they find it difficult to get their hands dirty with evangelism.

We see “lift” at our church all the time. The alligators on our sweaters, the 450 SLs in the parking lot, the Ballys on our feet are all mute reminders that the 1980s have dealt this congregation a good hand. The days of tent meetings and storefronts are now faded photos in air-conditioned archives.

Planting new churches keeps us honest. As we hear almost weekly about the growth pains of a new church, we are forced to grapple with whether our message is equal to the challenge. It is difficult to be glib about mission when one of our children is out there in a harvest field beyond our sight. The agonies and ecstasies keep us stained with the honest perspiration of building a church from the ground up.

• Third, congregations (like Christians) will be held accountable for the stewardship of their spiritual gifts. Like you, I’ve heard the parable of the talents thumped from pulpits for decades. If your experience has been like mine, those words always produced more guilt than guilders on Stewardship Sunday. But the totality of Scripture confirms the point regardless.

At Evangel Temple, we had to become serious about our giftedness. We started with money. After realizing that our church income had almost doubled over a three-year period, we were sobered to see that more than three-fourths of it was still going to make us “more mature” Christians. Nurture was a justifiable goal—but we were out of balance. Beginning in July 1981, we started to allocate 10 percent of our general receipts (undesignated) to missions and church planting. If we could harangue one another about tithing, surely we could ask the church to tithe as well.

Next, we looked at the gift of our pastoral staff. Shouldn’t this dazzling collection of degrees and divinity be made available to the new churches? Evangel’s business administrator, minister of Christian education, and senior pastor have all made extensive trips to share with the embryonic congregations.

What about our congregation’s vocational skills? Instead of having another six-week seminar on discovering your spiritual gifts, we sent twenty-two masons, carpenters, cooks, sign painters, and electricians (men and women) to the Santa Barbara, Mexico, site in February 1982 to build a building. Working hand in hand with Mexican Christians, we saw natural talents turn into supernatural gifts.

The next year, we decided such a trip would be a yearly habit.

Meanwhile, the new start in Danvers, Massachusetts, has been launched with more than just a salaried pastor. We asked lay people to consider moving to that area, finding jobs, and guaranteeing the presence of mature Christians in the congregation the first Sunday. (I remembered how I would gladly have given my entire set of Kittel to have such people among the first seventeen back in Cambridge.) A young couple took us seriously and relocated; he is now developing the Danvers youth program, while she works in music. At the five-month mark, the new congregation numbers fifty, meeting in a Howard Johnson’s.

The final gift we possess is our vision. To continue to stretch it as well as share it, we have brought the North American pastors of the churches we have planted back to Springfield every October for the past four years.

We spend two days exchanging ministry philosophy, sharing methodology, and reaching out to each other in prayer. They also participate in our Sunday worship while they’re here. The intensity of relationship that takes root among us during these days is hard to describe.

The heart of this diet plan is being willing to give up what we have tried so hard to get. We have been weaned on the sweet milk of accumulation. For years we have worked to pull in cash, crowds, and credit. But our flagstone foyers and swank sanctuaries are hollow if they echo our selfishness. Fat is no fun.

We know that at our core we are koinoniaholics, ever craving the good things of the Lord. But he will not allow bingeing. The Cambridge diet forces us to curb our appetites, to lose weight so we can gain strength, to give up fat in order to be healthy.

—Cal LeMon

Springfield, Missouri

Copyright © 1984 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

One wag, an Episcopalian, observed that on the question of authority, Roman Catholics point to the Pope, Protestants to the Bible, and Episcopalians to the previous rector. When it comes to people’s expectations of the pastor’s job description, lifestyle, and even personality, every congregation is shaped by the previous pastor, plus TV evangelists, memories of childhood ministers, radio preachers, and . . .

What elements make up the pastoral image? Which expectations do you live up to? Which must you live down?

To discuss these questions, LEADERSHIP editors Marshall Shelley and Terry Muck went to Milwaukee to meet with three pastoral couples:

-Stuart and Jill Briscoe, who serve Elmbrook Church in suburban Waukesha.

-Michael and Bonnie Halcomb, who minister at Mayflower Congregational Church of Milwaukee.

-William and Paula Otto, who serve Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church in north suburban Mequon.

Leadership: How much should you live up to the congregation’s image of “the pastor,” and how much do you have to be yourself no matter what?

Stuart Briscoe: It is utterly impossible to meet the diverse expectations within a congregation. Rarely will they all be communicated to you, and even if they are, what two people expect may be mutually exclusive.

But you can’t just dismiss these expectations as unrealistic. If you do, you find yourself in an adversarial role. You develop an arrogant, independent spirit; you lose your credibility and ability to lead.

It’s a fine line and requires open communication about what may be impossible demands.

Bill Otto: This is a complex problem, but it gets to the essence of what ministry is. Often the image is based on a distortion. For instance, Scripture speaks of all church members as ministers, but many people consider the pastor the only minister in the congregation. This leads to double standards that damage and confuse our relationships in the church. I resist these unscriptural, unfair expectations.

Jill Briscoe: When we first candidated, I passed out cards and asked people to write what they expected of me. The answers were so diverse. Our church is nondenominational, so each person has a different image of pastor and wife from previous experience. And those from Catholic backgrounds, of course, have no pastor’s wife model at all.

I thought if I tried to please the Lord I’d please the church. But it doesn’t always work that way.

Mike Halcomb: I find very few individuals with unrealistic expectations of the pastor-it’s the composite image that gets to you. And rarely does anyone outside the pastoral family see the composite.

Expectations, however, are part of any relationship. My three sons have expectations of how we spend money, how we behave, where we take vacations. All these have to be sorted, negotiated, and discussed. And that’s the way it is in the church family, too.

Maybe an expectation doesn’t need to be rejected as much as redefined or redirected. When my sons come with an expectation, maybe their mother can help them better than I; maybe they can help themselves with a bit of know-how. Ministry involves creative redefining and redirecting of expectations.

Bonnie Halcomb: When we candidated at Mayflower, we were available to meet with everybody in the church in small groups. It’s a tremendous emotional strain, but it’s helpful because everyone finds out who you are. Like courtship, though, you don’t really find out until after you’re married. But at least this is a good start.

Second, you also need some kind of pastoral-relations committee for feedback. You discover expectations you weren’t aware of, and this group can help you sort them out.

Leadership: Give some examples of how you’ve accommodated some expectations and stood fast against others.

Bonnie Halcomb: Occasionally people make requests of me-public speaking, for instance-and I’ll think, There’s no way! That just isn’t me. And yet I pray about it, decide to give it a try, and I’ve discovered that not through my strength but the Lord’s I was able to. It was a growing experience (and gave me even more appreciation for my husband).

Sometimes expectations push us, making us grow in ways we wouldn’t otherwise. You can’t just automatically say no. Maybe God is opening a door.

Paula Otto: One of the first people to meet me at Mequon was an elderly lady who pointedly said, “We don’t like our pastor’s wife to work.” I was teaching school in a nearby community at the time and planned to continue.

My mother happened to be with me, and she said just as pointedly, “Well, you have to realize the church call wasn’t to Paula but to her husband. So I suppose Paula doesn’t have to answer to you.”

Bill Otto: That’s when I packed my bags. (Laughter)

Paula Otto: Oddly enough, the lady accepted it, perhaps because it came from someone her own age.

Stuart Briscoe: Often people expect pastors to feed sheep the same way you feed lambs, and that’s the worst thing you can do. Grown sheep need to be shown the pasture for themselves.

My very first function at Elmbrook was a Wednesday night service. Afterward a lady asked what the Bible said about such-and-such.

“I haven’t the remotest idea,” I said. A look of horror came over her. I obviously wasn’t the answer man she expected.

“Will you find out for me?”

“No,” I said. Her horror turned to anger.

“Why not?”

I explained she was capable of finding out for herself. If I looked it up, it would take my time and she would probably forget my answer. If she looked it up, it would save my time, she would remember it better, and she could come and teach me.

“But,” I asked, “do you know how to look these things up?” She didn’t, so we immediately sat down with a Bible and a concordance, and I showed her how to dig it out for herself. She didn’t get what she expected, and yet in another way she did.

The next Wednesday she came up and said, “An interesting thing happened this week: a friend called and asked if I knew what the Bible said about such-and-such, and I said, ‘I haven’t the remotest idea. (Laughter) But if you like, come over and I’ll show you how to find out.’ “

Mike Halcomb: Another common expectation is in the area of administration. Whenever the pastor is in the building, he’s fair game for anyone who wants to schedule a meeting. Personally, I’ve tried to let people know the pastor’s study is just that-a study, not an office. Of course, at times you’ve got to put your own agenda aside and take care of the immediate situation.

Leadership: What principles help you decide when to bend and when to stand fast?

Mike Halcomb: Many expectations can be redefined or redirected so your time can be used in pastoral ministry rather than administration. If you rudely reject them, you’re asking for conflict.

We tell our missionaries to be sensitive to the values and past practices of the culture they’re entering. The same is true of pastors.

Bonnie Halcomb: Some expectations are based purely on human custom. If they make me uncomfortable and are not supported in Scripture, then I’m going to resist them.

Mike Halcomb: A large part of preventing problems over expectations comes in talking about where the church is going. If we can agree on what our mission is and how we’re going to get there, many of the extraneous expectations fall away.

Leadership: Let’s look at some specific elements of the pastoral image. Clothes, for instance. How do clothes affect the way people perceive you? Does “Dress for Success” make for effective ministry?

Stuart Briscoe: I’ve gotten hit by both sides. In the early years in our church, we were invaded by the counterculture-young people in T-shirts and jeans. After attending our church for twelve months, one person told me, “I’m just now beginning to listen to you because when I first came here and saw the suit you were wearing and the money it must have cost, that was a barrier between me and the Christ you were preaching.”

About the same time, a businessman took me aside and suggested I dressed far too casually. “It looks like the church isn’t paying you enough to dress properly,” he said.

I told him I purposely dressed down.

Actually, I’m not interested in clothes, so my problem is being sensitive to those with higher expectations. I never wear a jacket or tie on Sunday evenings. I recently bought my annual suit-for $150, and that’s the most I’ve ever spent.

Jill Briscoe: I suspect most congregations are more picky about the way the pastor’s wife dresses than the way the pastor does.

Paula Otto: I agree. I didn’t realize how closely my dress was being watched until one lady told me the Sunday after Christmas, “We can hardly wait till this Sunday each year because we always like to see what your husband gives you for Christmas.” They’d learned Bill enjoys giving clothes.

But personally, (and maybe this is a woman speaking) I find if I dress well, I feel more confident about myself.

Bonnie Halcomb: It’s important that we dress appropriately to the occasion. For informal functions in our church, it’s OK to wear a slacks suit. I have never felt I had to wear a dress to a softball game. People want you to be a normal person, not an oddity.

Bill Otto: I think the principle we’re talking about is that whatever we’re wearing shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves. That detracts from our ministry.

So I’m not going to a pool party in a three-piece suit.

Leadership: We’ve talked with at least one pastor who always wears a shirt and tie-even when he mows the lawn. He feels strongly that he needs to restore some professional dignity to his profession.

Bonnie Halcomb: In our community, shortly after we moved in, I was having coffee with a neighbor who said, “We’re so happy to see your husband out in his blue jeans playing baseball with his kids.” They were impressed that a pastor was a normal person, husband, and father.

Mike Halcomb: Our society is more forgiving now than it was years ago about clothing. But I’m still sensitive, especially when someone takes me to meet business associates or to a community group. Initial impressions are important. I don’t want my dress to detract from what I’m trying to do.

But I hope we’ve gotten past the point where smoking a pipe makes you a theologian, growing a beard makes you a counselor, or wearing pinstripes makes you authoritative. Dress is a concern but not a very substantive one.

Jill Briscoe: I take a lot more care about how I look when I’m with “outsiders” than when I’m with church people. The non-Christian world focuses on outward appearances; that’s what’s important to them. They’ll judge you and your Christianity, and if you never get a chance to speak, the way you look and the way you behave speaks for you.

Leadership: Are you saying you bend more to meet non-Christians’ expectations than church members’ expectations?

Jill Briscoe: It’s not a matter of bending. It’s a matter of asking how would God have me dress and behave in this particular situation. What will honor him and show the world that Christians are normal people, not extreme people, and that they can look neat and tidy?

Bonnie Halcomb: After the first few Sundays, our credibility among church people is based on deeper things. If you wear something they don’t like, they’ll forgive you if they like what’s inside you. But non-Christians may not have that chance to find out what you’re like inside, so that’s why we have to be careful about the outward appearance.

Leadership: How should a pastor’s office look? Lots of books? Diplomas on the wall? What messages do you want to convey to visitors who stop by?

Stuart Briscoe: My office at the church has a desk, a round table with four chairs around it, no bookshelves, no diplomas, but lots of greenery (until it inevitably dies). All over the walls I have pictures, carvings, and fabrics I’ve collected while traveling. I want to convey that my church office is a functional place, a comfortable place where you can find all sorts of interesting things, which helps conversation begin.

My study at home has my books because I need them there.

Bill Otto: I want my church office to be a place where people feel welcome to sit down and counsel with me, but I have a lot of books there. I want them to understand part of my role is as a teacher, one who studies and learns. I also try to have at least one funny poster up on the wall. The current one is “How to put a committee together” and shows four silly-looking birds on telephone lines, each pointing a different direction and looking bored.

My only regret is that the church office often becomes a dumping ground for supplies for every committee and board, and there’s always stuff in the corner.

Mike Halcomb: It’s not as important how a study looks as how it feels. Many of the things Stuart and Bill mention give people a sense of interest, acceptability, comfort, and warmth.

I find people are usually interested in the books on the shelves, and I purposely try to keep two or three interesting titles on my desk. Hopefully I’m in the midst of reading them, and that stimulates conversation and encourages them to read.

Bonnie Halcomb: One thing I like about Mike’s study is that you don’t have to go through the secretary’s office to get there-there are two separate doors. To me, that’s nice.

Stuart Briscoe: We have a multiple staff, and it’s interesting to me to see the different atmosphere in each pastor’s study. Some play classical music. Others are strictly functional. Others are crammed with books two deep on the shelves. Something of each one’s ministry and personality comes through in the way the office looks.

Leadership: What about your home? How does the house you live in-its size, location, and quality-affect your ministry?

Mike Halcomb: I was criticized for announcing a service of house blessing soon after we bought our home. It was with Bonnie’s consent, but some women in the church thought I’d done it behind her back because we had the service before we’d cleaned thoroughly, and the house needed some fixing up. But we wanted to communicate something. First, our home is an extension of our ministry, a place of ministry. Second, if we wait until everything is in apple-pie order before inviting others over, we’d probably never practice hospitality.

We hoped it would model something many of us aspire to-perhaps giving people freedom to use their homes as places of ministry.

Jill Briscoe: We had a peculiar situation. When we came to Elmbrook, we moved from England with our clothes-two suitcases apiece-and nothing else. All the rest of our possessions had to be sold or given away. The church said it was cheaper to provide new furnishings than to move our old ones.

They were generous in providing a lovely parsonage, but as a woman, I felt it wasn’t really mine. They had shower after shower-towel shower, kitchen shower-and they meant well. But I missed our wedding presents and the other things we’d given up.

They took a personal interest in everything in our home. There were times when ladies opened our drawers to see if we were using the towels they’d given. Who could blame them? It was theirs, not ours.

Leadership: That’s a tension, isn’t it? You want your house to be an extension of your ministry, where people can feel at home, but you also want a haven where you can get away from the pressure.

Paula Otto: When we first came here, we lived in a parsonage connected to the church building-one door led to another. I would come out of the bedroom and meet someone wandering into our home. I felt very tense about our lack of privacy.

Leadership: All of you now live in your own homes. Did the people feel that buying your own house took you a step away from them?

Bill Otto: Our congregation traditionally felt they needed to provide the pastor’s home. They were proud to say, “We’re giving this to you.” It gave them a sense of ownership, not only of the property but of us, too.

When I first presented our desire to own our own home, they resisted. I had to assure them it would not cost them any more money, and it wasn’t a step of independence. In fact, it rooted us more firmly in this community. We wouldn’t be as likely to leave after we’d built our own house.

So in the end, they realized our owning a house was a sign of our commitment to them.

Leadership: Does a congregation expect the pastor’s marriage to be trouble-free? How do family tensions affect the ministry?

Jill Briscoe: A pastor’s family is a model whether you want it to be or not. We’re not models of perfection, but we ought to be models of growth. How do you do that? By falling down at times in front of the congregation. When they see you struggling, they identify.

I remember dragging one of my children outside to the back of the church, and as I was administering the spanking, I looked up and to my horror saw a woman I would not have chosen to witness this scene.

She said rather primly, “Have you read the Dobson books?”-as if any proper mother wouldn’t need to punish her child this way.

I decided then I would no longer sneak off if my children ever needed discipline-I’d do it openly so no one would feel they’d “caught” us.

Bonnie Halcomb: We need to let our congregation know we’re a normal family with normal struggles, but we’re learning to work through these trouble areas. If a pastor’s family cannot give assurance that they find hope and answers in Scripture, how can they minister?

People are watching! I usually stand with Mike as he greets people after the service. One Sunday we had a guest speaker, and I figured three at the door would be a crowd, so I wasn’t there. One lady rushed up to ask, “Are you having a fight with your husband?” I hadn’t even thought of that, but I learned people really watch.

Bill Otto: Paula and I feel we have to live out our marriage in front of the congregation. Neither of us is shy about holding hands or putting our arm around the other in public. In the past, of course, that just didn’t seem the thing for a pastor to do.

Mike Halcomb: One of the most touching moments in our ministry came when we organized the congregation into small groups and asked various church leaders to take responsibility for keeping in touch with the personal and spiritual needs of each segment.

One Saturday our doorbell rang, and one of the leaders stood there. “I’m here to visit and pray with you,” he said. “You’re my responsibility.”

He prayed very knowledgeably, assuming we had the same family problems that his and every other family had. We were ministered to.

Congregations need to know, and want to know, that the pastor’s family isn’t trouble-free. But they also need to know it isn’t troublesome. Between those two poles is the ideal for the pastoral family.

Leadership: Obviously no pastor’s family will be perfect, but when does Titus 1:6 apply-“An elder must be blameless . . . a man whose children believe and are not open to the charge of being wild and disobedient”? Or 1 Timothy 3:5-“If anyone does not know how to manage his own family, how can he take care of God’s church”?

Mike Halcomb: The Timothy passage concludes with a warning not to fall into reproach. And the greatest reproach is hypocrisy-when something is espoused in the pulpit but not upheld in the home. Children are sensitive hypocrisy detectors, and they’ll report it widely, which brings reproach upon the cause of Christ.

But that passage is not referring to the normal maturation process of children. Our boys are inclined to pillage and plunder, sometimes in the church basem*nt! I have to reprimand them. But I trust their being normal boys doesn’t disqualify me for ministry.

I also don’t think that passage speaks to grown children (and in the Bible days, that would probably be fourteen to sixteen years old) who choose to disassociate themselves from their faith.

Bill Otto: Right, those verses are referring to a behavioral pattern of being wild and disobedient. It’s describing an individual out of control.

Bonnie Halcomb: We’ve known pastoral families where a child has been wild and rebellious, and yet as far as we can tell, the parents did everything they could to bring up that child to love the Lord. Many times, five or seven years later, that child will come back to faith, and to love and respect the parents.

Leadership: Do congregations expect you to have children? Is there “something wrong” with pastors who don’t?

Bill Otto: We know a pastor who did not have children, and whose congregation put so much pressure on him and his wife that it forced them out of the ministry. He’s a teacher now.

Bonnie Halcomb: We always laugh when we think of the time we announced we would be adopting our first son. One little old lady came to Mike and said, “That’s how every pastor and his wife should have children.” (Laughter)

Mike Halcomb: She thought pastors were sexless!

Seriously, these are personal decisions, and pastors and spouses need psychological space. The congregation can’t be making these decisions for them. It’s a tough enough decision for two people without getting two hundred involved.

But realistically, their opinions are something you’ve got to be ready for.

Leadership: Reflecting on all these areas we’ve touched, are expectations good or bad?

Bill Otto: They’re a mixed bag. Certain expectations are legitimate, and pastors must accept them and live up to them. Expectations are bad when they demand things the lay people aren’t willing to follow themselves. It’s the double standard that really takes its toll.

Bonnie Halcomb: Expectations can be good when they cause us to examine our priorities, when they sensitize us to our faults, and when they get us out of personal ruts and challenge us to grow. They are destructive if they force you into a role where you can’t be true to yourself or to the Lord.

Mike Halcomb: I think the answer is found in the context. If the pastor and people are advocates of one another’s welfare and of the good of the ministry, expectations can be very healthy.

If the relationship becomes adversarial, however, expectations become a burden. Of course, you’ll always have those individuals who take it upon themselves to be the pastor’s adversary-the loyal opposition. We need to listen to those expectations, too, because the Lord can speak to us through those individuals as well.

Hopefully, though, we’ll develop relationships of mutual advocacy rather than being distrustful adversaries.

Copyright © 1984 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

These resources help church leaders understand the roles and expectations that accompany their positions. (* identifies resources not listed in Books in Print.)

Bailey, Robert W. Coping with Stress in the Minister’s Home. Nashville: Broadman, 1979.* Identifies stresses produced by the pastoral role/image.

Baxter, Richard. The Reformed Pastor. London: Banner of Truth, 1974. Puritan classic on pastoral roles.

Brister, C. W., James L. Cooper, and J. David Fite. Beginning Your Ministry. Nashville: Abingdon, 1981. The expectations, adjustments, and tensions involved in starting out.

Campbell, David. If I’m in Charge Here, Why Is Everybody Laughing? Niles, Ill.: Argus, 1980. Good instruction on negotiation for pastors who feel responsible for church leadership yet powerless to execute authority.

Campolo, Anthony. The Success Fantasy. Wheaton, Ill.: Victor, 1980. Understanding the self-inflicted expectations to be successful by our culture’s definition.

Dayton, Edward R., and Ted W. Engstrom. Strategy for Living. Glendale, Calif.: Regal, 1976. How to define personal goals before they’re defined by others’ expectations.

Dittes, James E. When the People Say No. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1979. How to respond to disappointment and frustration in the ministry without losing self-esteem.

Foster, Richard J. Celebration of Discipline. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1978. A guide to the spiritual disciplines that helps the reader understand the expectations of God.

Getz, Gene. The Measure of a Church. Glendale: Regal, 1975. Defines the pastor’s role according to biblical measures of success for the church.

Glen, J. Stanley. Justification by Success. Atlanta: Knox, 1979.* The effects of business and politics on the way churches define success.

Grider, Edgar M. Can I Make It One More Year? Atlanta: Knox, 1980. Conflicts that drive ministers to change churches or leave the ministry.

Hummel, Charles E. Tyranny of the Urgent. Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 1967. Defines priorities by what’s important, not urgent.

Kemper, Robert G. Beginning a New Pastorate. Nashville: Abingdon, 1978. Helpful in determining the expectations of a congregation during the interviewing process.

Kittlaus, Paul, and Speed B. Leas. Church Fights. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1973. The role of the pastor amid conflict and opposition.

Larson, Bruce. The One and Only You. Waco, Tex.: Word, 1976. Learning to be at peace with the person God made you to be.

LeFevre, Perry D., ed. Conflict in a Voluntary Association. Chicago: Exploration, 1975. Useful in resolving problems resulting from ill-defined roles or unrealistic demands.

Lewis, Douglass. Resolving Church Conflicts. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1981. A case study approach that can help when church leaders clash over goals or expectations of the pastor.

MacDonald, Gail. High Call, High Privilege. Wheaton: Tyndale: 1981. Helps pastors’ wives stay spiritually healthy in their key role.

Minirth, Frank. The Workaholic and His Family. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker, 1981. The healing process for those with unrealistic expectations.

Navone, John. A Theology of Failure. New York: Paulist, 1974.* Offers the reality of Christ for the person in the midst of personal or church failure.

Oswald, Roy. The Pastor as Newcomer. Washington, D.C.: The Alban Institute, 1977.* Helpful for new pastors sorting out where they fit.

Paul, Cecil R. Passages of a Pastor. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1981. The changes in a pastor’s life.

Ragsdale, Ray W. The Mid-Life Crisis of a Minister. Waco: Word, 1978. Deals with a pastor’s self-concept in the middle years.

Raines, Robert. Success Is a Moving Target. Waco: Word, 1975.* Why no one can live up to the expectations of success.

Rand, William J., Jr. The Probationers Handbook. Burlingame, Calif.: Burlingame, 1981.* Good reading for discerning congregational expectations as you interview.

Schaller, Lyle E. Survival Tactics in the Parish. Nashville: Abingdon, 1977. Handling unreasonable demands.

Seamands, David. Healing for Damaged Emotions. Wheaton: Victor, 1981. Especially helpful for pastors’ families who need personal healing.

Senter, Ruth. So You’re the Pastor’s Wife. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1979. Deals with issues such as failure, guilt, resentment, and the expectations put on the pastor’s wife.

Sinclair, Donna. The Pastor’s Wife Today. Nashville: Abingdon, 1981. One of the few books that speaks to two-career clergy marriages.

Stott, John R. W. The Preacher’s Portrait. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1961. The biblical expectations of the pastoral leader as steward, herald, witness, father, and servant.

Taylor, Alice. How to Be a Minister’s Wife and Love It. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1968. Life in the goldfish bowl-from the inside out.

Tournier, Paul. The Strong and the Weak. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1976. Useful for perception into leadership styles and insight into our responses to tensions.

Copyright © 1984 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

The man who led me to Christ in 1936 became my pastor, and at a time when nobody talked about discipleship, he discipled me through two years of college and three of seminary.

Once when discussing the pastor’s administrative responsibility, he gave me this counsel: “Use ideas like seeds, not bullets.”

When you have a good idea, plant it in the hearts of a few people and be patient as it grows there. Later, at some official meeting, one of those people will likely present that idea as though it were his own, which puts you in the enviable position of supporting a great idea with all your influence without it seeming a personal crusade.

The only price you pay: someone else gets credit for your good idea.

-Richard C. Halverson

Chaplain, United States Senate

Washington, D.C.

My preaching professor, Gwyn Walters, was reviewing a video taped sermon I’d preached to the class. I’d worked hard on the manuscript, and the tape clearly showed my dependence on it.

Carefully commending my preparation, he then suggested I might view preaching like a sailboat moving across the waters rather than a train moving on steel rails. Each is moving toward a given destination, but the sailor, having plotted his course, must constantly read the wind and respond to it.

While I think of that advice every week in the journey of a sermon from desk to pulpit to congregation, its application has become even wider. To listen quietly, study diligently, plan carefully-depending on the Holy Spirit at each step-is to know the adventure (and risk!) of moving with the Sovereign Wind. This dynamic helps me understand ministry day by day.

-Harry J. Heintz

First Presbyterian Church of Brunswick

Troy, New York

While at Cincinnati Bible Seminary, I held the weekend pastorate of a small rural church where, in 110 years, attendance rarely flexed beyond thirty.

I was determined to help the congregation increase. Seeing only the obstacles, however, the elders rejected my plans for growth. Sensing my disappointment, the oldest elder, at eighty-nine still the youngest at heart, told me quietly, “It’s hard to teach old dogs new tricks. If I were you, I’d try to get new dogs.”

The Holy Spirit had spoken through this man. It proved valuable advice. With the influx of new members, the vision of the old members began to change. This weekend ministry blossomed into the first full-time pastorate in the church’s history.

-Dan Bernard

Brazos Valley Christian Church

Bryan, Texas

Upon graduating from college, I had to choose between medical school or seminary. After I had agonized, prayed, made lists, observed physicians, taken interest tests, and heard a potpourri of advice, one of the professors at the Mennonite Brethren Biblical Seminary in Fresno said simply, “Just get as close to Christ as you can; then do whatever you feel like doing.”

That advice empowered me to choose seminary over med school and has freed my decision making many times since.

-Lynn Jost

Hesston Mennonite Brethren Church

Hesston, Kansas

I’m indebted to the late Henry E. Russell of Second Presbyterian Church in Memphis for an early insight into the nature of pastoral ministry. At the time I was a graduating seminarian and very concerned that I have a clear description of the job being offered me in youth ministry at Second Church.

After writing Dr. Russell a couple times about the job description, I remember getting a call from him. “Jack,” he said, “I’ve got a tiger by the tail here. I’ll be glad for you to come and help me by grabbing hold wherever you’d like!”

-Jack C. Oates III

Clairmont Presbyterian Church

Decatur, Georgia

Copyright © 1984 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Motives

Congregations often rewrite for the wrong reason. Commonly it is “to prevent another problem like the last one we had”—long-absent members who created a row at a business meeting, or a board chairman thought to have too much influence. Sometimes expectations are unrealistic. People hope the new constitution will specifically answer every future question: What procedures are to be followed if the pastor resigns? May the youth group schedule an activity away from church during the evening service? No document can be so inclusive.

The right reasons could include establishing biblical principles, removing unnecessary red tape, clarifying doctrinal positions.

Common Errors

Assuming good reasons, there are several common errors to be avoided.

1. No stated authority. Church constitutions frequently contain much detail about the selection, size, and duties of various boards and committees, but none are given authority. Though the deacons may be assumed to form the governing board, the constitution may not say so. Often the pastor is viewed as the decision maker, but the constitution allows him no authority.

2. Pastor’s leadership role restricted. Some churches intentionally confine the pastor’s leadership to “spiritual issues.” “Real” matters involving property, finance, and other business decisions do not involve him. Realistically, however, since most pastors are involved in these matters, why exclude them from the official decision-making process?

3. Confusion of law and procedures. Many constitutions contain unnecessary, even cumbersome, detail. Mere administrative procedures need not become a part of the constitution. Let your governing board change and implement procedures as necessary.

For example, many constitutions call for quarterly business meetings on a particular date, such as the “first Friday of April, July, and October.” This could result in meetings on Good Friday and July Fourth weekend. Simply to change those dates would be to violate the constitution—and some people might be ready to contest decisions in those meetings as illegal.

4. Overstructuring. Many constitutions require several committees, each with a specific number of members. A church may search high and low for bodies to fill those positions. Then a special committee may be formed to reach a specific goal. To staff it may prove impossible, or it may overload members. A constitution should be flexible enough to allow the church to structure committees to meet certain specific goals.

5. Inadequate doctrinal statement. Many statements are inadequate or even misleading because they omit discussion of doctrine the church regards as essential. For example, the gifts of tongues and healing may be regarded as no longer operative; hence, a charismatic would not be allowed to teach Sunday school. A doctrinal statement in such a church is inadequate if it omits any discussion of the issue.

6. Too much importance. Frequently most of a church’s key leaders are assigned to work on the constitution—and it becomes a “tar baby”: people get stuck to it and can’t escape, and attention to other ministry-oriented tasks is set aside. After months or years, the committee presents the document to the church, which then examines it line-by-line, word-by-word. It is better to assign a few well-qualified people to prepare the constitution and have their work reviewed and modified by a larger group. When the document is brought for congregational approval it involves only items of concern to the whole.

The Important Questions

If you are planning to rewrite your constitution, ask yourself these questions:

1. What is our motive in this project? Clarification may help you uncover and solve more urgent problems first.

2. What is our goal? State exactly what you hope to achieve. Knowing where you want to go before you start will make the journey easier.

3. What do we intend to communicate in our doctrinal statement? You cannot include everything you believe, so know why you include or omit something.

4. What must be included? Ask yourself after every sentence if it is really necessary to involve the whole congregation in it. If your constitution turns out to be very short, you have probably done an excellent job.

5. What are the lines of authority and accountability? Who do we want to be responsible for the various areas of ministry? If you answered “the pastor” each time, you should rethink this.

6. Can you diagram the church government? If not, your constitution is either too complex or too vague. When you actually undertake to diagram, you can easily see the “problem areas.”

An excellent constitution is important for every church to have. It is an important tool that will allow a church opportunity to reach its goals. It is not an end in itself.

MICHAEL C. JASKILKA

Mr. Jaskilka is pastor of First Baptist Church in Tigard, Oregon.

In 1976, while serving my first congregation, and again in 1982, serving my second, I was asked to help rewrite the church constitution. At first, I was enthusiastic, but soon I was asking myself some troubling questions about why we were doing this and what we expected to accomplish.

If you are embarked upon a similar project, these thoughts may help.

Last evening, my wife and I invited a minister friend and his family to our parsonage after the church activities of the day. First off, he asked me, “How did church go today?”

Without giving me time to talk, he told me about his church. He listed the number of persons in both of his services and how much money came in his offering plates.

Similarly, in my first pastorate back in 1964, a clergy friend of mine would phone me each Monday morning. First off, he would inquire: “How many did you have in Sunday school yesterday?”

The number was no sooner out of my mouth when I was told how many he had. So it went, week after week. Now, almost 20 years later, it is still going on.

What I would like to tell these poll takers is that they are asking me the wrong questions. Finally, when the dust of planet Earth will have settled and souls will have departed, who will care how many we had in Sunday school and how many bucks were deposited in the plate?

This kind of criterion has been communicated likewise to the laity, yet revamped a bit to suit their own purposes and interests. For instance, when new people come into my church, they ask these questions: “What programs do you have for my teens? What activities are there for my little children? Do you have a choir? When does it meet?” After these new parishioners get somewhat established their questions are a bit more subtle: “How can I get elected to the top board?” I actually had one woman ask a veteran of the congregation, “How does the pastor operate?” When the veteran answered, “He doesn’t operate, he pastors,” she responded with, “Come on, now. You can finally figure out every minister as to how he operates.”

So there they are—the yardsticks of the church:

• How many were in Sunday school?

• How many showed up for worship?

• How much money came in?

• How many buses do you have running?

• How many are on your staff?

• What programs do you have for my kids?

• How can I get elected to the power elite?

• How can I get in on the “operation”?

But what a wearisome yardstick. There is definitely a self-centeredness about it. And it smacks too much of the business syndrome of success. Further, I do not have an easy feeling about it in that it does not seem to have biblical support. Instead, it appears to be more “wood, hay, and stubble” than “gold, silver, and precious stones.”

One of these days, I just know it has to happen—someone is going to approach me with these questions:

• How much unity is there in your church?

• Is there real love there?

• Do your people have an excitement about the Bible?

• Do your parishioners know how to pray?

• How solid are the Christian families in your congregation?

• How much time do the fathers of your church spend with their children?

• Does your church allow much time for people to be away from the church building in order to build their homes?

• Are new people coming to know Christ personally?

• Have the households of your congregation given up the notion that the church program should babysit their offspring?

Well, if that miracle does not take place soon, I just may plant a zinger the next time one of my colleagues starts in with, “How many did you have in Sunday school yesterday?” That is, playing deaf to the question, I may ask, “How strong are the marriages in your congregation?”

Who knows, it may actually open up a whole new kind of evening.

Interestingly enough—and logically enough—that could also go for our annual reports to the congregation, the district and general levels of the denomination. Instead of reporting the number of heads and dollars for one year, what if each cleric gave an honest accounting of the oneness, caring, and strength of his congregation? It would not be as easy to feed into the computer, but it just might have more value in the sight of God.

J. Grant Swank, Jr., is minister of the Church of the Nazarene, Walpole, Massachusetts. He is the author of four books and more than 200 magazine articles.