Preaching and visitation are essential in any pastorate, but in a broken church, their need is magnified. Our members needed to hear the Good News of God’s love and power, to have their hope renewed, and to experience human concern and love.
—Ed Bratcher
I was jogging down the street, thinking about my new church (I had arrived in Manassas only a few weeks earlier), when a man I had never seen motioned with his hand for me to stop. I stopped and tried to catch my breath.
“Are you the new pastor of Manassas Baptist?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, smiling.
“I’ll never go there again!” he exclaimed heatedly. Then he began an angry tirade about the church’s hypocrisy, its control by a few members, its lack of love. It took him thirty minutes to finish.
I could tell he had been deeply hurt, but I wasn’t sure what to say. I only knew this was going to be the most difficult pastorate of my ministry.
Following a Fallen Pastor
The previous pastor at Manassas, whom I’ll call Fred Sharpe, had resigned under pressure from charges of sexual indiscretions and aberrant theology. When I had candidated, the pastoral search committee described the problems in general terms, with a note of sadness. “Fred was a man of unusual abilities,” they explained.
Before Fred had become pastor, the congregation had been divided on whether to call him, but Fred had been highly recommended and had demonstrated qualities the congregation sought: he was articulate, personable, and young, and he held a reputation for leading churches into growth.
The church grew rapidly under Fred’s ministry. Many were attracted to his nontraditional approach to preaching and worship, and soon a second service was started. After about eighteen months, however, a few people started leaving the church, upset primarily by Fred’s theology and his practice of drinking beer in public. There were also rumors of sexual indiscretions.
As I had considered the call to Manassas, Fred was still living in the community and had started a “Church Without Walls.” The Manassas Baptist Church staff was in disarray: one of the associate pastors had resigned; the other was having serious marital problems. I sensed the church’s financial condition was unstable, even though the interim pastor assured me this was not the case. (Time proved him wrong.)
For these reasons, among others, I struggled for three months with whether to go to Manassas. But I accept as a good definition of God’s call “a task to be done and the ability to do it.” People told me they felt I had the abilities, so after much prayer, I accepted the call.
Trying to Get the Total Story
I thought I had the full story when I went. But about six months after I arrived, Fred moved in with his girlfriend. Neither was divorced at that time. I learned that Fred’s sexual improprieties had been going on for several years and had caused severe strains in his marriage. The search committee had not mentioned the problem; no one knew the extent or severity of it until Fred and his wife separated.
Every member’s attitude toward me and the church was in some way colored by these past events, yet each person viewed those events in different ways. It was difficult to get a clear picture of what had happened.
The complexity of the situation can be seen in the different reminiscences of four members:
A strong supporter of Fred: “I’m not sure why I wasn’t aware of the moral problems, except that maybe I wasn’t in contact with anyone who disagreed with us. Those who agree with an embattled pastor tend to surround him and cut him off from divergent viewpoints. There were a few vague charges brought out at a couple of business meetings, but they were discounted.”
A female church leader: “Looking back, I realize Fred was making improper overtures to some of the women. Tales came back to me of such actions taking place at retreats, but they also occurred in the homes of the members.”
A deacon who opposed Fred: “My opposition began when Fred preached a sermon on ‘Open Marriage,’ the essence of which was biblically and morally unsound. Prior to that sermon, I had become concerned about rumors that Fred, in his home, encouraged young people to experiment with alcoholic beverages (though only in moderation).” When this deacon’s opposition became vocal, many members reported to him rumors of Fred’s sexual indiscretions. He took these rumors seriously because of the people who reported them. “By the time a vote of confidence was called for, I was convinced Fred was involved in extramarital affairs, and that was the major issue in my mind in seeking Fred’s resignation.”
One of the staff members who worked with Fred: “I was supportive of Fred’s program. I also feel the church leaders shielded me from the conflict. I was still in my 20s, so they didn’t want me to get hurt in the crossfire. I was concerned over the problems Fred and his wife were having, and as a result, I probably was not ‘hearing’ what was being said about Fred.”
A Plethora of Problems
Fred’s sexual behavior was not the only issue in the controversy, but when Fred moved in with his girlfriend, immorality became the problem for members of the church. This public confirmation of their suspicions caused the members who were left at Manassas Baptist to forget the other facets of the problem, and therefore made the healing process more difficult.
Among the other problems, for example, was a power struggle between the old and new members. The rapid influx of new members had made the older leadership concerned over their own loss of power. Many leaders had been upset, for instance, the time Fred asked some older members to withdraw their names from consideration as deacons so newer members could be elected. The older members also resented several new programs pushed through by Fred.
At one of the first business meetings I attended, a conflict erupted over whether a nonmember should teach a Sunday school class. The problem was seen as a clash between those who had caused Fred’s resignation and those who had supported him. The debate shed little light but generated much heat.
One of the two major adult Sunday school classes had identified itself as “conservative,” and the other considered itself “liberal”. The “conservative” class saw its task as combating any remaining influences of Fred’s theology and lifestyle. The “liberal” class saw its task as combating the rigidness they identified with the opponents of Fred’s ministry.
Meanwhile, Fred and his new church were still in the community. He sent a letter to selected members of Manassas Baptist inviting them to the new church he had started. I called him and questioned the ethics of that practice.
“I don’t see anything wrong with it,” he replied. “I have many friends at Manassas who would like to know what I’m doing. I won’t stop contacting those members or any others I might choose.”
Fred’s behavior plus these conflicts scattered the leadership at Manassas Baptist. A new Baptist congregation had started in town while Fred was still pastor at Manassas Baptist, and, over several months, a number of members saw this as an opportunity to respond to a new challenge (of starting a church) as well as a way out of a difficult situation. In addition, Fred had taken with him many of his followers.
I had the remaining members, many of whom were hurt and disillusioned. Some withdrew from active participation, but the rest became a united remnant committed to praying and working for the rebirth of the congregation.
As a result of these complex and overlapping problems, I learned to accept all reports with a grain of salt. I had to listen with a “third ear” for the feelings and hidden agendas behind each statement.
In many ways I proceeded like Abraham, seeking to follow God’s will but not knowing fully where I was going. My age, 50, was a definite asset. Had I been 35 or 40, 1 doubt if I would have survived. The problems I had gone through in three previous pastorates helped me to listen better and also to retain my hope for a positive resolution.
Leadership Strategies
I began by taking some specific steps to rebuild trust in the pastoral office and unity in the church. Here are the principles that guided me through this challenging new pastorate:
• Work primarily with and through the board. Shortly after I arrived at Manassas, I scheduled an overnight retreat with the deacons to deal with whether to keep the two staff members who had survived the conflict. I decided to ask the deacons—rather than the personnel committee—to make the decision. Most of the standing committees were severely weakened by the exodus of trained leaders during the conflict, and therefore, the real power was with the deacons.
I indicated to the deacons that the decision had to be theirs; I was not going to decide for them. One deacon took me aside before the retreat and said, “Ed, the deacons are looking to you for guidance. You must be prepared to share your views.” I assured him that I would, but that I wanted the deacons to make the final decision.
The retreat proved exhausting. The first session on Friday evening went until midnight, and many of the deacons continued their discussions until 2 or 3 a.m.
On Saturday morning after prayer time and a devotional, we tested for a consensus. There was none. All of us were emotionally drained and discouraged.
So after sharing with the group what the one deacon and I had talked about, I made three specific recommendations: (1) that both the associate pastor and the part-time minister of music remain, because I needed their help, and it was unfair to dismiss them without notice because of the church’s financial problems; (2) that the associate pastor and his wife, recently separated, be given our love and support in this difficult time in their lives; and (3) that the position of the associate pastor be re-evaluated after one year. These provided the catalyst for further discussion, and we decided unanimously to present these recommendations to the church.
Our recommendations were accepted with little discussion by the congregation. This was to be the pattern at the monthly church business meetings for several years to come. The church members were so tired of fighting they wouldn’t voice opposition or offer suggestions.
To those familiar with congregational meetings, this might appear to be a godsend! It was only in part. We were left without feedback, so it was hard to develop strategies and programs for which the members had any enthusiasm or sense of ownership.
I continued to use the deacons for several years as the primary, if not the only, decision-making group in the church. By the time I left, however, the deacons were primarily concerned with family ministry and spiritual growth. The various committees—finance, personnel, missions, building and grounds, and others—were again functioning well and carrying out their assignments with minimal input from the deacons.
• Focus on the pastoral basics, preaching and visitation. At the first deacons’ meeting, I outlined my priorities. First, I would spend the greater portion of my time in visitation; specifically, my wife, Marjie, and I planned to visit each deacon. Second, I would focus on my preaching. I stated also that I would not, for the most part, get involved in rebuilding or strengthening church programs.
Preaching and visitation are essential in any pastorate, but in a broken church, their need is magnified. At Manassas, the members needed to hear the Good News of God’s love and power, to have their hope renewed, and to experience human concern and love. These aims were best achieved through preaching and visitation.
A serendipity of my announcement that Marjie and I would be visiting in the homes of deacons was that many invited us for a meal. This provided the double benefit of giving and receiving love.
• Combat the spirit of failure through constant encouragement. I’m not by nature a glad-hander and ego builder. I don’t make it a practice to announce how great the church is and how wonderful the services have been. My preaching style tends rather to “afflicting the comfortable.”
However, four years before going to Manassas, I heard a series of lectures that encouraged pastors to pattern their preaching after Isaiah’s words: “Comfort ye, comfort ye my people.” At first I rebelled against that suggestion, but at Manassas I turned to it more and more.
Twice, for instance, I preached on Barnabas, “one who encourages,” and how he was an example to us. The response was overwhelming; people realized they needed to encourage one another.
To help the church feel it had a viable place in the community, I initiated an annual “Interchurch Conference,” to which all the local churches were invited. We brought in major speakers and underwrote the expenses. As the conferences were enthusiastically received by others in the community, people in the church began to feel encouraged that the church was doing something constructive.
I also felt that instilling a spirit of encouragement was also the responsibility of the deacons. I even confronted them once about their discouragement, suggesting that they weren’t inviting others to church because they were ashamed of our church. Most agreed I was on target.
• Help the church to focus outward. A fourth strategy was to encourage the church to focus on missions. Because my parents were missionaries for forty years, I have a strong commitment to missions. In addition, I found the congregation already had several missions interests I was able to nurture.
We invited missionary couples to the church; one spent a whole week teaching all age groups, including adults, during our Vacation Bible School. Local mission needs were identified as well, and Manassas Baptist took the leadership in providing help to an unexpected influx of refugees. These efforts resulted in a dramatic increase in missions giving, not to mention a renewed sense of congregational purpose.
• Celebrate the good. A broken church needs to highlight occasions when it can celebrate the blessings of God. We held services in which we focused on God’s goodness in the lives of individuals. We took time to express publicly our thanks for the service of various members and staff.
When our church reached its centennial, we held a year-long celebration with the theme: “Thankful for the past and committed to a second century of ministry.” The centennial celebration included historical pageants, the writing of the history of the church, a home-coming Sunday, and a banquet.
Personal Survival Tactics
In pastoring a hurting church, we expend so much that personal survival tactics become as important as leadership strategies, perhaps more so.
My first survival tactic was a redoubling of my efforts in personal spiritual growth. I had been aware for many years that I was often more concerned about leading worship than in participating in it. Marjie gave me a framed copy of a prayer by Martin Luther that so impressed me, I began praying it before every service:
O Lord God, Thou hast made me a pastor and teacher in the church. Thou seest how unfit I am to administer rightly this great, responsible office; and had I been without Thy aid and counsel, I would surely have ruined it long ago. Therefore do I invoke Thee. How gladly do I desire to yield and consecrate my heart and mouth to this ministry. I desire to teach the congregation. I, too, desire ever to learn and to keep Thy Word my constant companion and to meditate thereupon earnestly. Use me as Thy instrument in Thy service. Only do not Thou forsake me, for if I am left to myself, I will certainly bring it all to destruction. Amen.
I asked the deacons to meet with me for prayer prior to the service. Some saw it as a spiritual crutch and resisted the idea at first, but eventually, “prayer with the pastor” became an important part of the role of the deacons.
I found myself spending more and more time in prayer—on prayer retreats, on Saturday evenings in the dark sanctuary. I was not alone in trying to grow spiritually. One member in writing her recollection of the key events over those difficult years concluded by saying, “There is now a solid foundation being built in regard to the spiritual life—prayer, meditation, and Bible study.”
A second strategy was to be more open about asking for help from church members. My first major attempt at this came at the time of the marriage of our daughter. She was not known to the church, because she had already established her own career and home before we moved to Manassas. I announced she was to be married in another state and that Marjie would be gone a couple of weeks to help with the wedding preparations. I planned to follow later to perform the ceremony.
I received no response from the congregation. No one seemed to be interested. I had tried to “weep with those who weep, and rejoice with those who rejoice,” but now it seemed like those whom I had tried to serve were letting me down. I felt hurt and angry.
While jogging late one evening, I decided to go to one of the families in the church and talk about it. The family listened to me, and they contacted others. By the time I left for the wedding, there was an outpouring of love through various words and deeds.
On the Sunday I returned, I preached on “Carry One Another’s Burdens.” It was to have been just another sermon, but somehow I was able to confess how hurt I had been, and also how much I had been helped by their love and support. I stood before the members of the church at the time of the altar call and said, “I need you, and I thank you for your love.”
Many still speak of that worship hour as one of the highlights of my fifteen-year ministry there. “Carry One Another’s Burdens” became something of a motto for many in the congregation.
I also gave attention to the many other sources of renewal available to a pastor. Continuing education events helped me not only because I learned new things about ministry, but also because such classes got me away from the stress of the church. Writing a book, teaching classes, speaking to groups, and consulting were outside interests that I learned to pursue—with the encouragement of the congregation. Both Marjie and I, being duty oriented, had to grow in our ability to allow ourselves to enjoy outside interests. We also began traveling and enjoyed it immensely.
Prior to Manassas, as I later realized, I had placed too many burdens on Marjie and my family. Through the sometimes-trying times at Manassas, I learned the value of pastoral peer groups, with whom I could share my deepest feelings. I value such mutual support among pastoral friends.
Also regular exercise helped me. Strenuous and enjoyable activities such as handball, racquetball, jogging, and swimming worked wonders in my life. Even yard work was a good release, although I do admit to relishing it less than racquetball.
A Long Process
A while back I showed a written account of those first years to one member and asked for comments. The member said, “Your strategies, conscious or not, worked, but the healing process took far longer than any of us would have thought.” The key words are worked and took far longer.
That my strategies worked doesn’t mean they were perfect. Some problems continued during my years in Manassas, and when I retired, work yet remained to be done. Many dedicated members did too much and burned out. At times, some members had an Elijah complex: “I alone am left.” I know I hurt some members—unintentionally —but still they were hurt. Some members left the church because they felt they couldn’t work with me.
But healing did take place, although not in the span of the three or four years I had envisioned. There were two important watersheds in the healing process, at ten and fifteen years after my arrival at Manassas.
It was in the tenth year that the man who had accosted me while I was jogging joined the church. He immediately became active in worship, Bible study, and service. Also at the ten-year mark, the church planned a celebration for Marjie’s ministry as well as mine. Not only did we enjoy it, but it indicated that the leadership could take initiative again, and that they believed there was something to celebrate.
I retired fifteen years after going to Manassas, announcing it several months before it happened. The members’ response was a marvel to behold. The leaders formed committees to plan our retirement festivities and to work toward finding interim and continuing pastoral leadership. The church members accepted tasks and provided feedback on what they considered to be the needs of the church. In all, the church spirit was reminiscent of the words of the apostle Paul: “The one thing I do is to forget what is behind me and do my best to reach what is ahead.”
Certainly the transition into a church torn by a difficult experience with a previous pastor is not the easiest. But my experience at Manassas Baptist helped me understand Paul’s statement: “I have worked harder than anyone else. It wasn’t I; it was the grace of God.”
Copyright © 1991 by Christianity Today
