Tuesday morning and I feel great. Why? We had an elders meeting last night! These days, I look forward to our meetings. We get things done, tackle tough issues, laugh, and afterward, “shoot the breeze.” I appreciate our elders, and depend on them.
But I admit, I haven’t always felt like that. Not until one night when I asked a question and really stopped to listen.
Dancing with a stubbed toe
It was our first meeting in a new term, with our newly elected elders joining us around the table.
“So,” I asked, “what are your feelings coming into this term of service?”
There was a long pause. And then, slowly, carefully, they began to speak.
It had been a simple question, but their responses revealed significant pain just below the surface.
One man told a story from his previous term. He had been doing his best work for the church, trying to do a good and helpful thing, when a few church members snarled at him. This man is quiet and godly, and an experienced elder. He is no wimp. But he ended his story with a brief “That hurt.”
Another elder told of a disagreement with a previous pastor. There were only a few honest differences of opinion, but this elder felt the pastor had turned his back on him, walked away, and pretty much severed their relationship. (Memo to self: He wonders if I’ll do that to him, too, if he dares offer a divergent thought.)
This elder, a gentle, sincere Christian man, has contributed greatly to the work of our church. But he came to this term feeling burned.
That seemed to be the consensus. Most of these men felt burned.
They were not whiners looking for pity. They were strong, Christ-like leaders, willing to serve. But they were also disappointed with church leadership, and wary.
They were willing to do the leadership dance, but with little joy, eagerness, or anticipation as they braced themselves for the inevitable pain of someone, maybe me as their pastor, stepping on the same wounded toe.
How could we possibly work well together if we’re waiting to get burned again?
Elders or wallflowers?
“Dance with who brung ya” is an old phrase encouraging a young lady with a roving eye to remember to dance with her date. After that meeting with the elders, I realized that I’ve been like that young lady at times, eyeing bigger churches, better programs, and expanding visions.
These things capture my imagination and suddenly, the elders (who “brung me”) can tell that my attentions are elsewhere. I’ve begun to push, drag, manipulate, or ignore them.
That night I realized that I hadn’t been connected to these elders at the soul level, and that I needed to pay attention to them, to respect them, and to appreciate them.
Learning new steps
As long as the elders guarded themselves against anticipated pain, our leadership dance would be awkward. Suspicion and defensiveness would cloud our meetings. I wanted our church’s leaders to be trusted and affirmed in our church, and for that to happen, I needed to learn some new, more godly steps.
1. Languages. In conversations with other pastors, I often hear them refer to “my chairman” or introduce someone by saying, “Bert, here, is one of my elders.”
It’s a habit, a small thing, to refer to someone else as “mine,” but it is also diminishing. It sounds like a guy in high school trying to impress his date with the letters on his jacket, or with his car (“By the way, did I mention I have, ahem, some elders?”).
Biblically, it’s more accurate to say “one of our elders.” So I try to say, “Bert serves as one of the elders at our church.” Maintaining respectful language keeps me from propping up myself at the elders’ expense, and the change, I trust, signals to them my effort to convey genuine respect.
2. Affirmation and encouragement. The Bible suggests that leaders who serve well are worthy of “double honor,” and that goes for our elders, too. But affirmation and encouragement are different from mere flattery (“Bert, is it just me, or, have you been losing weight?”)
Biblical encouragement, a far deeper thing, is the discipline of locating God’s work within someone and calling attention to it. It praises God instead of puffing up people. And since very few people in a church do this for elders, I consider it my job.
For example, as elders we had to make an agonizing choice about asking a member to leave the church.
I told them, “However this turns out, I honor you as elders for having the guts to wrestle with this issue, for caring so much about what the Bible says, and for sincerely praying and seeking God on this. I praise God for you.”
I meant every word. And at a time when some of our elders were losing sleep, they needed spiritual encouragement.
3. Public affirmation. Last winter, we had to cancel services on Sunday because of a severe snowstorm. The elders made the decision and then tried to personally call everyone that Sunday morning. But it was a no-win situation.
Some people were grumpy over the cancellation. (There’s always someone who thinks, “If an elderly widow slides off the road and dies in a snowdrift while driving to church, she was only doing what she was supposed to be doing, and, after all, she’s going to heaven.”)
Other people were angry because somehow they didn’t get the phone message and dog-sledded through gale-driven snowdrifts only to find no one at church.
Who got the blame? Our elders.
The next blizzard-free Sunday, I took a moment to publicly thank the elders—”for getting up early, for making a tough decision, for spending the morning calling everyone they could.” I apologized for any inconvenience, but I also affirmed that the elders did their best to keep everyone safe.
Following their lead
A couple of years ago, I got the idea that we should study Bruce Wilkin-son’s book The Prayer of Jabez. I wanted to buy books for everyone, change our evening service into a small-group format, and discuss the book during church. Yes! This would be so cool … if I could just get it past the elders.
Just thinking like that, of course, is the first step toward treating elders like wallflowers. Already in my mind, I had set myself above them, against them, ahead of them. I was disrespecting them. Elders can tell when you think you’re “ahead” of them. And it hurts.
I presented my big plan to the board. Silence. In their minds, they could hear the angry phone calls. They knew that I, as pastor, would be perceived as torturing a sacred cow, the evening worship service. Out of love for the church, and for me, our elders said “no.”
But then they proposed an alteration to the plan that would take some heat out of the potential backlash. I hated that. I wanted my plan, and without any elders cutting in. But I swallowed my pride, accepted their idea, and we went with it.
The result was a smashing hit. Great participation and no backlash.
I like our elders! From the stories I hear from other pastors, not everyone has this pleasure. I’m grateful for this group that is willing to work with me in the delicate leadership two-step.
Keith Mannes is pastor of Highland Christian Reformed Church in McBain, Michigan.
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