4 Mistakes I Made in Local Church Ministry
Ah the Gifts of Hindsight...
It’s been a year and half now since my husband and I stepped away from local church ministry. Justin preached for 20 years, served as lead minister for a good chunk of that, and I served as a highly involved volunteer and later staff member, leading worship planning, coordinating social media, and creating opportunities for our members to tell and participate in the story God was writing in our midst. I loved working for my church. I gave her my absolute best efforts. But, in this year and a half away, living a slower paced life, partnering with churches across the globe (England, Ireland, Croatia, South Africa) I’ve realized my best efforts included a few glaring mistakes.
I thought I’d share a list both as apology to the people I helped lead and as instruction to those who may be making the same mistakes. I suspect this list might also challenge church members who sometimes hoist unhealthy, unproductive, and misguided expectations onto their ministers’ shoulders.
Here we go…
1. I acted like a parent, not a partner.
Have you ever wondered why church members sometimes act like children? It must be, at least in part, because we treat them that way.
As a mom of under-18 children, it’s my responsibility to help them become flourishing humans who treat other people well and do the dishes and turn in their homework and make quality friends and read books that help them become good people. I accomplish this the way most parents of under-18 children do; I make plans for them and instruct them and boss them around. Sometimes I give them stickers. Sometimes, time outs.
I did basically the same thing as a minister. I envisioned what was best for our church members (they need to grow in this way, they need more teaching about X, they need more opportunities to serve here…). I created initiatives and planned events and designed programming to achieve what was best for members. And then I begged members to participate in those initiatives, programs, and events like a mother trying to force feed her baby pureed carrots. I definitely offered stickers. I wished I had time outs.
I suspect, if you’re a minister, pastor, church staff member, or elder you’ve been there. We determine what’s best for them. We set goals for their spiritual growth. And we schedule their time. Then we complain when our members aren’t on board.
As a mom of children who’re quickly approaching 18, here’s what I’m learning: adults (even young adults) hate being told what to do. They hate having their time allocated by others. And they hate conforming to other people’s expectations. They don’t want to be treated like children. They want to be treated like partners.
[I get that many members act like children, but the only way to help them grow up is to treat them like they’re grown.]
Do they want opportunities to serve and belong? Sure. But they’d prefer to have input on what those opportunities look like. They’re eager to serve and belong in ways that fit their wiring and schedule. Do they want to learn and grow? Absolutely. But they’d like a chance to discover what they need to know, and they’d like to partner with someone to chart a course for their growth.
Does agency lead to participation? Certainly. People who help envision a plan are far more likely to participate in the execution of that plan. Does agency always lead to participation? Nope. Sometimes people just aren’t interested in serving, belonging, learning or growing. If they were our children, it would be our responsibility to convince them. But they’re not our children. They’re God’s children. We should let Him be the parent.
This, by the way, is good news for over-worked ministers. You can stop micro-managing your people, and if you do, you’ll find you have more time for things like praying.
2. I spread myself too thin and failed to invest in deep relationships.
Every February Justin and I had dinner with one of our elders and his wife, and every year that elder would ask how we were doing with friendship. We’d hem and haw, say something about our small group and a couple friends. Justin would mention the group of preachers he met with regularly. And then we’d change the subject.
Here’s the truth: We did have friends. People we loved being with. People who supported us and took care of us. People who made us feel seen. But (and this is a big but) we rarely spent time with them. Why? Because we spent all our time on new people, fringe people, people who were struggling, and people with complaints. Justin and I devoted ourselves to outsiders, first—always making time for men and women encountering Jesus for the first time. Praise God, our church always had a handful of these folks. Justin met with them for Bible studies. We did their marriage counseling. We had them into our home for meals. We traveled to San Antonio to attend an Air Force graduation. Then came people in crisis—the sick, struggling marriages, young people with doubts, funerals, hospital visits, lots of coffee. Every week also included conversations with the people who disagreed with a recent decision, the ones who didn’t like the new hire, the ones with doctrine questions, or the ones who “just want to get to know the minister.” After that, our time went to elders and staff (these people became some of our best friends simply because we spent so much time together). Add to that our small group, the women’s Bible study group, the preacher’s network group, 2,000 “friends” on social media, and the elementary school PTA and you’re beginning to see the unsustainable nature of our social lives.
If we were lucky, we saw our friends once every month or two. Obviously this is broken.
We have to figure out a way to limit a minister’s relationships, enabling deeper roots with fewer people. Same goes for elders. No human can competently maintain relationships with hundreds (often thousands) of people.
3. I tried to avoid conflict (and over-reacted when conflict and criticism came my way).
Church life is riddled with conflict. Ministers get a front row seat for all of it. They see tensions among the leadership. They hear about tensions among members. They see what ministries are failing. They know which small groups are imploding (and all the details and perspectives on why). They know the names of the people who wish they’d quit. It’s a dumpster fire.
None of this is unexpected. Every organization composed of human beings deals with conflict, and leaders always experience more of it than anyone else. How do they deal with it? Often they either get good at tuning it out, or they let it crush them.
Neither option is great, especially because ministers (and elders) need to receive and pursue conflict. Sometimes the complaints about you are legitimate. Sometimes that thing you did really was insensitive. AND Sometimes the only way forward is to make a move that’s bound to generate dissent. Sometimes you need to have a hard conversation. Sometimes the only road to peace is through the valley of difficult truth, empowered by conflict-comfortable courage.
Personally, I struggled with both. Already buried under criticism and conflict, I couldn’t bear direct criticism, and, eager for a reprieve, I sometimes failed to pursue growth for the congregation if I thought it might stir things up. My hesitancy to confront my own failures and the failures of others was bad for my church.
4. I protected my church from my personal spiritual growth.
Over the years I’ve talked to dozens of ministers about their work and the difficulties of leading and serving a church. Often their greatest source of tension is the distance between where they are in their walk with God and where their church members and elders are in their walks with God. Personally, they’re discovering new ways to adore and pursue Him. Professionally, they’re struggling to integrate those ideas into the church’s work and worship.
Why? Lots of reasons, primary among them the excessive resistance they face when trying to lead a church through change. Churches (people) generally dislike change of all sorts. That’s a problem as transformation is change, and as people being formed into the image of Christ more and more every day, our lives ought to be marked by constant, persistent change. When a church chooses a healthy minister, they choose someone being transformed. Then, in too many cases, they fight against the effects that change might have on the congregation’s purpose, identity, or work.
For me this looked like too much hesitation to push for new ways of worshipping, seeking, and serving God. It looked like holding back my full opinion on matters for fear it might disrupt the peace.
If you’ve ever been a member of a church I’ve worked for you’re likely laughing right now. Oh come on, Jennifer, you always spoke your mind and often got your way. Actually, no. I did speak up plenty, but almost always on behalf of a compromise, a solution I thought everyone could receive. I was too scared to say the thing I thought God would really love, because I didn’t want to press the church into dramatic change. Baby steps seemed wisest. Looking back, I’m not so sure.
Some minsters do the opposite—they drag their church around behind their every new idea. Usually though, those ministers are operating from a place of selfishness and immaturity. If you trust your minister, if he or she has proven himself/herself worthy of your respect, know, they are almost certainly reticent to let you in on all they’re dreaming about with God. Help them help you by trusting God’s transformative power.
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I’m not beating myself up over the way I approached ministry in the past. We all grow and learn and wisen up. But if I had the chance to talk to ten-years-ago-me, this is what I’d say. That’s why I’m saying it to you—because it might make it easier for you to persevere in good work. Because it might bless your church. Because hindsight for me could be sight for you.
Godspeed!
-JL
Wisdom Literature that Makes You Go Huh?
Are you all caught up on Look to Love podcast episodes? Most recently we’ve looked at Ecclesiastes and Song of Songs—both books of wisdom that aren’t always easy to understand. In Ecclesiastes we talk about what life means when it’s not eternal. In Song of Songs I suggest that perhaps this isn’t the romantic love story we think it is (IMO the beating gives it away).
This podcast has been lots of fun for me. It’s like teaching a weekly Bible class—which is something I sorely miss. If you’re listening, I’d love to hear from you!
In May, I’ll be taking a few weeks off the podcast and The Goodness to rest (and play) with my family. We’ll be traveling some, including a research trip to Egypt to prep for my husband Justin’s next season of Holy Ghost Stories (an OT storytelling podcast and my favorite podcast of all time).
Lord willing, we’ll climb Mount Sinai. I’m swooning at the thought.
Such Sweet Sorrow
Last night we said goodbye to our church family in South Africa. We’ve been living here since January, and we’ve loved it. I’ve never lived anywhere this diverse (SA has 11 official languages) or this beautiful (mountains, beaches, forests, deserts…). Thank you for praying for us while we’ve been here. God’s been present at every turn (the cloud on the mountain has been a magical reminder).
As we return to the states for a bit this summer, we’re gearing up for two Storied Family workshops—one in St. Petersburg, FL on June 11th and one in Bellevue, NE on June 25th. If you’re interested in attending, reply to this message and I’ll get you registration info. Both are completely free of charge!
Thanks for helping us learn along with you. Really appreciate the insights from the 4 mistakes and can relate to many of them. :)
Thank you for sharing. The gap between leaders and members is often too big.