Ultimately, in the restoration process, you’ve got to make a judgment call. Because discernment is so difficult, a group needs to be involved—no individual is capable of seeing the whole picture.
—Edward Dobson
The sanctuary of Temple Baptist Church near Detroit is an imposing and intimidating structure. Built in the late 1960s, it seats 4,000 people. The church has a rich tradition in the independent Baptist movement, at the forefront of the evangelism, Sunday school, and church growth movements of the twentieth century.
I had spoken there many times before on happier occasions. But on this Sunday as I sat on the platform, it was different. I tried to sing the hymns, but I cried. I tried to concentrate on the special music, but my attention was riveted on the family in the first row. They were clinging to each other as if afraid to let go. They looked out of place, even though they had been in the church for years.
I tried to smile at them, and they tried to smile back. But it was obvious to both of us that there was little to smile about.
Many in the choir had tears in their eyes. It was like a funeral service; everyone putting on the best front possible, yet feeling that at any moment the emotions could come unglued.
It might have been easier had I not been so close to the family in the front row. Truman Dollar was a mentor and a friend. When I was considering leaving Thomas Road Baptist Church in Lynchburg, Virginia, it was Truman who counseled me nearly every day. When I moved to Grand Rapids and needed advice in making decisions as a pastor, I turned to him.
Looking at him now from the pulpit, I could not believe he was about to resign as pastor. It all seemed so unreal.
The events of the last week flooded my mind.
The Unwelcome News
On the previous Monday, the phone rang. I answered, and in his resonant voice. Jerry Falwell, the man I’d worked with for almost fifteen years, said, “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” I replied. “I had to answer the phone.” We laughed.
Jerry quickly got serious.
“Have you heard about Truman’s situation?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “I just talked to Curt Wilson, the chairman of the Temple Baptist deacon board. Truman has had some problems and is going to resign. They wanted me to come and help, but my visibility would only hurt the situation. Since you’ve helped in these kinds of situations before, I suggested that he call you.” He briefly described some of the problems and assured me of his prayer and support.
“Call me if you need any help,” he said. Shortly after I hung up the phone, it rang again.
“Dr. Dobson,” the voice said, “Dr. Jerry Falwell suggested I call you to see if you could help us.” Curt Wilson and I spent almost an hour on the phone.
He explained that two years ago, Truman’s 15-year-old son had overheard him talking to a woman from their former church. The conversation contained inappropriate sexual content. The son, not knowing what to do, told the youth pastor what he had heard, who in turn confronted Truman.
Truman admitted he had spoken inappropriately, asked forgiveness, and the matter seemed settled.
Now, two years later, that episode resurfaced, and the entire deacon board had been informed. After a lengthy and stormy meeting, the deacons concluded they should ask for Truman’s resignation.
“The announcement will be made this coming Sunday,” Curt said. “Would you be willing to preach on Sunday morning and evening, and meet with our deacons to begin sorting through the specific steps that need to be taken?”
“First of all, I would need to consult our board for their advice and wisdom,” I said. “I haven’t been here that long, and I made an agreement to submit to their authority; I would not want to do something so dramatic without their complete support.” I made arrangements for an emergency board meeting the next day at noon.
I didn’t sleep much that night. I was shocked, disappointed, and hurt. I knew this would be a long and difficult week. I wasn’t sure what our board would think. I wasn’t even sure I was capable of giving advice or leadership in this complex situation. I did decide, however, that I would not walk away from Truman. He had been my friend, was still my friend, and would always be my friend. Whether or not I got officially involved in the situation, I would still stand by his side.
The next day at the emergency board meeting, almost everyone was there. While a few kidded and laughed before the meeting, everyone could tell something serious was about to happen. I’m sure some of them thought perhaps I was in trouble.
After I recounted my conversation with Curt Wilson and Jerry Falwell, the board unanimously encouraged me to go to Temple, work with their deacon board, and preach for them on Sunday.
But they also felt that the pressure of this situation should not be faced alone. They promised to pray for my ministry at Temple, and they appointed three men to go with me as a source of encouragement, strength, wisdom, and support.
In retrospect, I am deeply grateful that these men went with me. Ken Ellis, the youngest member, is a licensed psychologist and has keen insight into human behavior. Adrian VanWyk, the elder statesman of the group, is one of the pastors at our church and had been through similar church situations before. Philip Nymeyer is a no-nonsense, get-to-the-bottom-line businessman. I knew that in a tense situation, these men could get to the fundamental issues quickly.
On Wednesday, I traveled alone to Detroit to meet with Curt Wilson, some of the staff, and the Dollar family. It was a long drive. I had several hours for reflection. I thought about the many times that Truman and I had talked together on the telephone. I thought about the time we were together in California when he was struggling with whether to leave his former church in Kansas City and move to Detroit. I remember his pain as he sought to do what God wanted.
I thought about the time we were together at a conference with sixty other fundamentalist preachers. I delivered a lecture on the differences between liberals, evangelicals, and fundamentalists. I remember his willingness to be used as my illustration of a not-quite-true fundamentalist because he wore a gold chain around his neck. People laughed and clapped. I also remembered jogging with Truman the next day.
I recalled the times he had come to Lynchburg. As columnists for Fundamentalist Journal, we would often read our material to one another over the phone and suggest changes to each other. We had developed a kinship over the years, and I was afraid our relationship was about to change forever.
Talking with Truman
When I pulled into his driveway, I noticed a for sale sign in front of the house. When I walked in the house, Truman and Donna embraced me, and we stood together and cried. As we talked, Donna made it clear she was completely supportive of her husband.
“I’m determined to stand with him—whatever happens,” she said.
The rest of the family was there, and it was a house filled with activity. Truman and I excused ourselves and went to the basement, a large room, carpeted and paneled, empty except for a desk and a couple of folding chairs in one corner. The family had often hosted large groups of church members there. And there we sat, and through the tears he poured out his story to me.
He talked about how hard the move from Kansas City to Detroit had been on his family—how they had to leave home and friends.
He told about the increasing pressure of the ministry, about coming from a church he’d built for over twenty years into a church that had a lot of problems and was in decline, a church that wasn’t overly receptive to him.
He mentioned how the decision to admit blacks into membership had cost the church several families. The recent discussion about relocating the church was even more volatile. And Truman was the target of most of the anger.
During this period, he had been talking to a couple who were lifelong friends. Sometimes when the husband wasn’t home, Truman would talk to the wife. During those conversations, Truman began sharing the pressures and discouragement he was feeling.
Later Truman said, “Looking back, that was a fatal mistake. There were other people who could have listened. I said things that were inappropriate and wrong. I’m embarrassed and ashamed of what I said. I was neither unfaithful physically nor were we ever together. But with my suggestive language, I was clearly in sin. I still find it hard to talk about what I said to her.”
It was during one of those conversations that his teenage son picked up another extension and listened in. He was shocked by what he heard.
Shortly thereafter, his son went on a youth retreat. He talked privately to the youth pastor about what he had heard his dad say. When they came back from the retreat, the son and the youth pastor confronted Truman. He reluctantly admitted he had said those things.
“This kind of language and conversation is completely out of character for me,” said Truman. “I asked their forgiveness and promised to stop any further conversations with this woman.”
They agreed that no one else needed to know about this.
But the secret between Truman and the youth pastor created intense pressure. Their relationship began to deteriorate.
“When the youth pastor would do something poorly and I would talk to him about it, he would say, ‘Well, I guess I’m not the only person who has messed up.’ As his performance slipped, I thought about firing him, but it was clear, at least to me, that he was holding our secret over my head. He repeatedly threatened me, and I knew he could go public.
“In retrospect,” said Truman, “I should have gone to the deacon board right then, told them what was happening to me, and asked for their help. They probably would have put me on a leave of absence, gotten me some help, and nursed me back to health.”
In time, however, the youth pastor confided in some other staff members. The church had been incurring excessive long-distance telephone charges, so Truman installed a device to log the numbers of all calls placed. Reviewing the log one month, one of those church staff members noted the number of the woman who had been involved in the inappropriate conversations had been called from Truman’s line. Assuming the conversations had resumed, he told the whole story to some others.
One Sunday, right after the morning service, the staff members confronted Truman in his office with their accusations and documentation.
“What in fact had happened,” said Truman, “is that the woman’s husband had called when I was out. I returned the call and talked lo him. I didn’t consider that a recurrence. I tried to present my side of things, but the staff members insisted the incident had not been handled properly two years before, and now they wanted my immediate resignation.
“It didn’t take me long to discover that this confrontation involved more than a discussion of purity. It was a well-planned revolution, a palace coup. If I didn’t resign, they said, they would make the matter public.
“I didn’t bother to defend myself. I was humiliated and helpless. All of a sudden, something I thought had been taken care of was exposed.”
Truman later admitted to me that he was traumatized that afternoon, not thinking or acting logically after the painful confrontation by several staff members: “I was left alone in my office for a few minutes. My mind played tricks on me. I thought that perhaps the damage done to my family and the church would be minimized if I were not alive.
“My youngest son’s 30-30 deer rifle was in my office; a staff member had recently cleaned it for me. I took a soft-nosed shell from a case and nervously shoved it into the chamber. For a fleeting moment I thought the easiest thing would be to end it all.”
Fortunately, Truman’s wife and secretary arrived about that time, and he was not left alone again. He didn’t tell his wife.
“I realize how self-centered this would have been,” he later told me. “I was thinking only of myself. It was also a denial of everything I had ever preached about accountability, about God caring and being in control.” (He was so embarrassed that only after three years was he able to admit publicly the incident.)
That night, Truman and Donna walked slowly out of the church study toward the two flights of stairs that would lead them to the parking lot. It had been a long afternoon. From the nearby auditorium of historic Temple Baptist Church in Detroit, they could hear the congregation singing hymns they had known all of their lives. The Sunday evening service had begun.
“It was the first time in thirty years that for a reason other than illness we had missed a Sunday evening service,” he said. “It seemed strange not to be there. I was officially still the pastor, but in my heart I knew that would change quickly—everything would change quickly. We were in great pain.”
They thought about the congregation, which was also in pain that night. The church was not told why Truman was not in the pulpit. The congregation knew nothing of the events that transpired that afternoon. They would not learn until the next Sunday.
That night Truman and Donna just wanted to disappear—so they spent that night alone: “We did not want to meet or talk to anyone. Donna and I were both numb, silent, overwhelmed with the events of the afternoon. Our whole world had just caved in. We felt abandoned by both God and man. We were both stunned. Thirty years of ministry gone—no job, no security, no future.”
Still, in a curious way, Truman was relieved that he would now be forced to deal with his sin: “My repentance had been private but incomplete. Now I could deal with it thoroughly and publicly.”
He recognized that he needed to make restitution to people whom he had injured with his actions, and although restoration was not going to be easy, he was determined to begin the process: “There’s never a convenient time to interrupt life and deal with burdensome personal problems,” he later said, “but that day’s events forced me to deal with them. It’s clear that a sovereign God determined the time of my restoration in his own wisdom, but it was not all that obvious then. Still, I resolved then and there to begin to rebuild my broken life.”
About that night he also told me: “I know that I was not thinking clearly, but that night I developed a strange sense of peace, and there was almost no anxiety.”
Two days before I had my talk with Truman, he had begun the task of informing people whom he needed to tell personally. It was much like informing the members of the family when a death has occurred, he said.
At 2 p.m.that day, he called his daughter Sonya and his son Tim, both of whom live in Kansas City with their spouses. By 5:30 that afternoon, both of them were on a plane to Detroit to join Truman and Donna. They stayed the entire week, and all the family members were by his side on the platform the next Sunday when he publicly resigned.
Truman later told me that during that week, he became increasingly aware of the historical significance of what was occurring: “I knew each word would be recorded and every scratch of paper saved in the archives of the church. I remembered the hours I spent reading some of those decade-old records of bitter conflict. Now, my own name was to appear and the record would not be good. I could not voice how regretful I was at how future generations would likely judge me.”
I realized other factors were at work in all this. It suddenly occurred to me that every time I’d talked to Truman in the last year or so, he’d mentioned how tired he was, how hard he was working, how difficult the situation was, how spiritually drained he felt. I suspected that he saw resignation as at least some ray of hope that I can get off this treadmill and out of this rat race.
After our conversation that afternoon, Truman wanted to get out of the house and away from the telephone. So Truman, his two sons, and I played an afternoon of golf. The sun was shining; the course was beautiful. For a few temporary moments, everything was normal again. Tim talked about his law practice. Devon talked about his girlfriends. I talked about Calvary Church. Truman talked about golf.
All too quickly the game ended, and we rode back to Truman’s house. We walked past the for sale sign and back into the harsh reality of an uncertain future.
I returned to Grand Rapids.
Identifying My Goals in the Process
I met my traveling companions at 2 p.m. in the parking lot of Calvary Church the next Saturday. We packed our stuff in the back of a Jeep Cherokee and made the trip from Grand Rapids to Detroit. I updated the men on my conversations with Truman, Curt, and others.
Pastor VanWyk recounted in detail his experience with a similar situation many years ago. He told us about the long-term consequences of that incident in the people’s lives and how the church had become divided over the issue. Some people wanted to forgive the pastor and accept him as if nothing had happened. Others wanted to defrock him forever. Others didn’t know what to do. Pastor VanWyk had served as a moderator, and as a result, much of the anger in the church had been directed toward him.
I was beginning to sense that there was no simple, predictable strategy with which to respond to this situation. The damage had been done, and the best that we could do was exercise some sort of damage control.
But as we drove, the role I would need to play began coming into focus. I identified four goals. I vowed to try
1. To ensure that they treated Truman with dignity. Even if he had done wrong, it wasn’t right to stomp on him.
2. To help the church work through the shock and the swirling emotions, and to help them see that there was hope beyond this, that this was not the end of effective ministry at Temple.
3. To communicate a biblical perspective. The key in all of this was to respond not according to what they felt but according to the principles of Scripture. I knew that some people in the church were delighted Truman messed up; they didn’t like him to begin with. The whole church, and especially these people, needed to accept the biblical command to forgive.
4. To discourage the church from making hasty decisions. While some people would want Truman’s head on a platter, others would insist he hadn’t done anything seriously wrong. Some would want him skinned alive; others would want to vote him back in as pastor. My goal was to help prevent the church from splitting.
The Divisive Decision
We checked into the Holiday Inn and went to dinner. Curt Wilson joined us, and we talked about the deacons meeting to be held that evening. We then rode together to the church. Everyone was there, including the staff member who had confronted Truman several years before and the staff members and deacon who had confronted him the previous week, bringing the issue to the full deacon board.
I looked around the room. I felt sorry for the staff and deacons. They had lost their leader. They seemed unsure of what to do.
The first couple of hours of the meeting were spent recounting the details of the situation and the steps that had been taken so far in dealing with it. It quickly became clear that the group was significantly divided. Everyone felt that Truman had done wrong. However, some felt that the actions of those who accused Truman were just as wrong as what Truman had done.
Some tense charges and countercharges were exchanged:
“It’s obvious that some leaders in this church are willing to sweep sin under the rug, to forsake their integrity to prevent embarrassment.”
“It looks to me as though some people on staff here are trying to use this unfortunate episode to further their own careers. If anyone should come under church discipline, it’s the staff!”
“This thing is two years old, and there hasn’t been a recurrence of the questionable behavior. Truman should stay on as pastor.”
“When such a serious sin is committed, spiritual leadership is forfeited!”
We reached an impasse. The three men from our church were sitting in the back, and I could see them bowed in prayer. I knew God was our only hope for bringing harmony to the group.
“Listen,” I said. “The real issue here is not whether we like the way things were handled. The issue is that we have a pastor who’s resigned, and we need to address that issue.”
I suggested that we pray, and I insisted that we all get on our knees.
I began, not knowing what I would say. It was one of the longest prayers I have ever uttered in a public meeting. I prayed for those in leadership, for the Dollar family, and for the church. Then I broke down and began sobbing. I asked God to protect each of us from making these same kind of mistakes. I told God I didn’t want ever to embarrass his name. I didn’t want to let down the church that called me as its pastor. I didn’t want to hurt my family. By the time I was through praying almost everyone in the room was weeping.
Then we took a break. When we came back, we began dealing with how we were going to face tomorrow. I sensed a different spirit at that point. Instead of Where should we attach the blame? the question became How do we proceed from here? Amid the tension, we all seemed to realize that if we were to sit in a position of authority and decision making, we needed to be humble before the Lord.
We also realized that regardless of how serious we each thought Truman’s blunder or how meaningful we judged his repentance, we knew he couldn’t stay on as pastor—the anger and confusion of so many members made continuing untenable. So we discussed Truman’s resignation and what needed to happen.
After some disagreement, we finally concluded that Truman should personally read the statement to the church. Some, especially on the staff, felt it should be read for him, that Truman shouldn’t even be there. They wanted him just to disappear.
I responded, “If you handle it that way, it will appear to the congregation that he got railroaded. And if that’s the perception, they’ll railroad every staff member out of here. Unless people can see that Truman is convinced this is the right thing to do, the church will split. Our only chance to minimize the damage is for him to be there and allow people to see him, to see his family, to hear him confess his wrong. And they need opportunity afterward to say good-bye.”
The group also agreed that Curt and I should meet with Truman to discuss the resignation and the events of the next day. We concluded that the statement should be honest about the reason for his resignation, although not explicit. We decided he should simply say he’d had “inappropriate conversations” with a woman.
We knew that what he read and how he read it would have a profound impact on how the congregation would respond. Indeed, the statement would serve as a document people would repeatedly refer to. In fact, one of the later sources of conflict was over the fact that the word sin was not used. In retrospect, perhaps it should have been, although those angry at Truman would probably have found other things to criticize.
We discussed how the resignation should be handled publicly, who would moderate the meetings, and who would speak to the press. We wanted a coherent and consistent position. We eventually came to consensus on each of these issues.
Then Curt and I drove to Truman’s house. We sat in the basement with Truman, discussing his resignation statement. We talked through the events of the next morning. Where would Truman sit during church? Would he come in prior to the service or shortly after it started? Would he be there for Sunday school? In one respect, these seemed like insignificant points, but in light of what was about to happen, we all knew we had to pay attention to every detail.
Curt dropped me off at the Holiday Inn about 1:30 A.M. I still didn’t know what I would preach. Normally I spend twenty hours in study for a Sunday sermon. I am not the kind who can stand up with minimal preparation and say something significant. That night, however, I read some Scriptures, prayed, and went to bed without knowing what I was going to say. I trusted that God would give me special wisdom for this important day.
The Announcement
As I sat on the platform, the past week seemed like an eternity. I had cried more in the last week than I had in years. And now the whirlwind was approaching the moment of resignation.
“I’ve preached in this pulpit many times,” I began. “And I always look forward to being here, with the exception of today. I wouldn’t have chosen to preach here today. But I’m going to anyway. And I have decided, for the sake of safety, to preach the sermon I preached last Sunday at Calvary Church. It’s about David—and anyone else who ever made a mistake.”
After my sermon, on David and Bathsheba, a staff member gave a public invitation for people to join the church. It seemed so odd to be concerned about church members when the pastor was about to resign. Nevertheless, several came forward with the desire to unite with the church.
At the end of the service. Curt stepped to the microphone and announced a special meeting of the church and graciously dismissed everyone who was not a member of the congregation. Since I had been asked by the deacons to be part of this unusual day, I stayed.
Truman, surrounded by his entire family, came to the microphone and read the statement of resignation.
When he finished, someone yelled from the audience, “Mr. Chairman, I move we refuse to accept this resignation.”
A cheer erupted from the audience. Another man shouted support for Truman. It was immediately clear that the position of the deacons was dramatically different than the emotional response of the congregation. I knew in an instant that the situation could turn into a major conflict.
Before Curt could respond, Truman stepped to the microphone with a brief display of his strong leadership.
“That is not the issue,” he said. “What I did was wrong, and whether you want me to pastor or not, I don’t feel qualified to be your pastor. I am stepping down, and there is nothing you can do to change that. The deacons have done nothing that is improper.”
Afterward, Truman stood in front of the altar, and people came by to hug him and say good-bye. For two and a half hours, I watched an incredible outpouring of love and feeling.
One of the staff members said, “This is awful!”
“No,” I said. “This is important. This feeling has to be vented. Most people out there have messed up, many of them a whole lot worse than Truman. Anyone who has ever made a bad decision in life will throw arms around him and say, ‘Thank God you’re one of us.’ “
Another person came up to me and said, “You whitewashed the whole situation. You even compromised the Scripture. You said in your sermon that David ‘made a mistake.’ King David didn’t make a mistake; he sinned.”
My emotions churned. How could anyone consider this whitewashing? The pastor admitted his action, confessed it publicly, asked the people to forgive him, and was now suffering the consequences of resignation. He was leaving the only thing he had done for thirty years. He was suffering public humiliation and embarrassment. He might never again return to pastoral ministry. And this guy thought we were whitewashing it? What more did he want? 1 felt hurt.
In the weeks that followed, I would learn that everyone had different reactions to the situation. In most such cases, I’ve learned, rarely is there unanimous support for any action.
I returned to the hotel exhausted. I opened my Bible to Galatians 6:1-8, the text I had decided would be the focus of my sermon for the evening.
Almost everyone came back to church that night. I preached ninety minutes. It was one of the most difficult sermons I have ever preached. I pledged publicly that I would stand with Truman through this crisis, to help “bear one another’s burden.” But I also preached that he was suffering the consequences of his behavior, that he had responsibility to “bear his own burden.”
On the way home that evening, I was totally drained. I knew people had misunderstood my sermons during the day, but I was glad for the encouragement and support of the men from Calvary. I was so filled with insecurities, I talked the whole way home. I didn’t want to be alone with my feelings and my thoughts; I wanted to sense from them that I had done and said the right things.
I lay down that night and wondered where Truman and Donna were. What were they thinking? What were they talking about? How were they feeling? It was a Father’s Day I will never forget.
Donna’s New Role
Life for Truman and Donna that week was incredibly hectic. People were in his house from early morning until the late hours of the evening. And the phone rang continuously. They received over five hundred long-distance phone calls.
Some life-long friends did not call, while people he had known only casually—who had heard him speak at conferences or heard his tapes, read his books and articles—called several times. And there were the intimate friends who called often to comfort.
Knowing that his life was changing forever, Truman began to keep a daily diary. He wrote his feelings and observations. He recorded his reaction to Scriptures where he found comfort and instruction: “I believed it would be therapeutic for me. It was a very personal and private way to express myself. At times, it was as if I was writing about someone else, but I knew I was describing the collapse of my own life.”
He wrote a series of observations in his diary, which he couched in what he called “Laws of Human Nature.”
First law of human nature: The speed at which news spreads is directly related to its degree of badness.
Second law of human nature: When admitting something bad about oneself, the capacity to focus blame on others is infinite.
Third law of human nature: Nothing is totally appreciated until it is irretrievably lost.
Fourth law of human nature: Nothing you do in the future can erase the past; but with your life, you can give significance to the past.
He also bought an ibm-pc and began to write, but he says, “Most of the material I have never let anyone read.”
I found out later some of the things that were happening to the Dollars. Among other things, an unlikely hero had emerged. Donna had always been a faithful and loving pastor’s wife. She was also admired and loved by each congregation Truman served. She was, however, very quiet and lived in the background of Truman’s more dominant pastoral and family role.
“As I led the church,” Truman says, “she was always by my side, often in the shadows. In the home, I disciplined the children, handled the finances, and made almost all the decisions. This seemed to be in accord with her desire. It appeared to me she had chosen this quiet supporting role and that it best fitted her personality.”
On the day Truman’s life fell apart, though, she emerged as a strong figure by his side: “Her response was quick, decisive, and natural. She was supportive both in private and in public. She defended me, loved me, and comforted me. She became my great strength and constant partner.
“It was like she was transformed in a single day; and she has remained a strong help ever since. All four children were amazed at her sudden strength and admired her transformation.”
Truman has since wondered how to explain this dramatic change. “I suppose it is like trying to explain how the pliable vice-president Harry Truman became the strong-willed president at Roosevelt’s death. Some believe he was always strong and the new role gave him opportunity to display it. Others believe the pressure of the job made him strong.
“I am not sure what happened with Donna except I know it was a spiritual process, and without her sacrifice and support, restoration would not have been possible.”
Short-Term Strategies
The initial crisis was over; however, the long process of putting the pieces back together was only beginning.
In a crisis situation, there are no timeouts. There is no quiet withdrawal from the whitewater to meditate and sort through what you are going to do. You must respond with haste and decision. The next week was a blur of events.
Looking back, I’ve identified several key tasks we had to handle immediately.
• Help the congregation process the emotion. When an event of this magnitude hits a congregation, people have to deal with questions, fears, and disillusionment. I encouraged the leaders at Temple to go overboard to give people opportunity to talk about this—to let it out, to express their feelings.
So for several weeks, they let people know that half a dozen deacons and staff would be at Temple Baptist each night between 7 and 9 P.M. to talk about the issues. But mostly they listened to, reassured, and prayed with people.
• Control the flow of information to the media. We didn’t want a disjointed, inconsistent picture presented to the media, so we appointed one person to be the church spokesman. Whenever anyone needed information about Truman or the church’s response, this person spoke officially on behalf of the church. Unfortunately, information was given to the media beyond the written statement. The failure to stick to the written statement resulted in front-page headlines that damaged the church and the people involved.
The papers hounded Truman for a response. Fortunately, he declined any comment because further comment from him would have given reporters more to talk about.
• Control the curious. Since the story was carried on the front page of the Detroit newspaper, it was not long before people called me from all over the country. The barrage of calls was more than I could possibly return.
“Preachers are probably the worst gossipers in the country,” I said in disgust and despair one day. The worse the news, the more people wanted the inside details. All is done under the pretext of trying to help, of course, but in reality, I knew few of these people could offer any substantive help- Many people were angry at Truman, and I simply absorbed their wrath. I didn’t pass any of those messages on to Truman.
Perhaps I was too cynical, but after a while, I returned only those calls from people I felt (1) genuinely cared about helping (not those who simply wanted the latest nuance of the story) and (2) had the resources necessary. In other words, I gave the details only to those who’d had a prior friendship with Truman, or people he respected, who I knew would call him to offer prayerful support.
With them, I’d tell the story and then say, “Why don’t you call Truman directly? Here’s the number where he can be reached.”
The Long-Term Strategy
Restoration, to me, has two levels. The basic need is restoration to spiritual wholeness. Only after that issue is dealt with could we begin even to talk about the possibility of restoration to position.
We had no manual for managing such a crisis, nothing that outlined appropriate steps for healing and restoration. But I was increasingly convinced of two facts: (1) Truman merited a legitimate process of restoration, to aid his own personal and spiritual healing and the healing of his important relationships, and (2) the process should occur within the authority and care of a local church.
I began discussing these ideas over the telephone with Truman. We decided to convene a small group of pastors to establish some guidelines and suggest a blueprint for this process.
The Pastors’ Group
We agreed on four other pastors, and I called each of them: Jerry Falwell, Walt Handford, Jerry Thorpe, Harold Heninger. They gladly agreed to meet in Atlanta, Georgia, to consider the implications of Galatians 6:1 for this situation—”If someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore him gently. But watch yourself, or you also may be tempted.”
For the first hour and a half, Truman told his story. I noted a high level of skepticism by all the pastors. They didn’t think he was telling the whole truth. Everybody assumed the worst—that he’d been physically involved. Several times Truman was interrupted by someone asking tough questions.
After lengthy discussion with Truman and then without him, the committee concluded there had been no physical involvement, only an indiscrete conversation by phone.
“Truman,” said one of the group, “you’ve told us this is the honest truth. Now we need to be honest with you. Hear us well—if at any point in the future we receive information that proves your statements not to be totally truthful, we are out of the process. This whole thing is based on your being honest. And if at any point we find out you’ve been dishonest, we’re out.”
The committee independently confirmed Truman’s story with all the people involved.
At the conclusion of the meeting, the pastors’ group recommended the following steps:
1. Truman stop all public speaking and writing and resign from all leadership positions.
2. Truman write a letter to the deacon board of Temple Baptist informing them that he would be submitting to the discipline of another church and that he would, under no circumstances, consider returning as pastor of Temple Baptist Church.
3. Truman and his wife should request a local church (preferably Calvary Church) to bring them under the discipline and care of that congregation. The following general guidelines were suggested:
—The board of that church should develop a specific strategy for their healing and restoration.
—This process should emphasize personal, spiritual growth for both Truman and Donna.
—The process of restoration should not have time limits.
—This process would not guarantee the type or place of future ministry.
—The possibility of future ministry would be recommended corporately by the church and the pastors to whom Truman had submitted.
—The leadership of Temple Baptist would provide input and advice during the restoration period.
4. A letter would be sent to Christian leaders around the country informing them of the steps that were taken in regard to Truman.
At first, Truman resisted the open-ended time frame. He suggested a six-month limit. He wanted an end in sight. But we insisted that the process would not guarantee any type or place of future ministry. We made clear that we were not going to guarantee Truman would ever be a pastor or leader again.
“We are committed,” we said, “to restoring your relationship to God, your relationship to your family, your relationship to a community of believers, and your restoration to some type of meaningful service. But the question of leadership is not up to us. The possibility of future ministry will be recommended corporately by the church and by this committee.”
This committee had no official ecclesiastical authority. Truman was not required to submit to our recommendations. The process of restoration rested totally with his voluntary compliance. He did so readily and completely. In my opinion, this was the single most significant factor in bringing about complete restoration.
Then I sent a letter to our church explaining the situation and the recommendations of the pastors’ group. I also wrote:
On Sunday, July 24, Mr. and Mrs. Dollar met with the board of our church to discuss the possibility of coming under the care and discipline of our church. After a thorough meeting, the board unanimously and enthusiastically invited them to come under our care for a time of spiritual healing and restoration. A committee was formed to work with them during this process. The committee includes Mr. andMrs. Jim DeVries (chairpersons), Mr. andMrs. Dennis DeHaan, Mr. andMrs. Ade VanWyk, Mr. andMrs. Ken Ellis, and two couples from the board of Temple Baptist Church: Mr. and Mrs. Jay Hatfield and Mr. and Mrs. Curt Wilson.
We recognize that we have not walked this way before. We believe that we are following the spirit of Christ in this matter. We understand the process of restoration to involve three steps.
First, restoration to fellowship with God and others (2 Cor. 2:5-11, 1 John 1:9-10).
Second, restoration to service (the story of Peter’s denial of Christ and his subsequent sermon at Pentecost).
Third, restoration to leadership. We are leaving this step up to God. We have made no commitment as to what Mr. Dollar can or cannot do after the restoration process.
I ask several things of our congregation. First, pray that God will lead us every step of the way. Second, pray for the Dollar family. We are committed to restoring them to spiritual health. We are leaving the issue of what they will do after that up to God. Third, pray that God will get the glory through this process. Fourth, please pray for me. As I have wept and prayed with the leaders of Temple Baptist Church and with each member of the Dollar family, lam reminded that I’m made of the same flesh. Pray that I will be true to God, my family, and the wonderful people of this congregation. I don’t want to fail!
When you see Mr. and Mrs. Dollar in church, please make them feel at home. This will be a very difficult time for them. The words of Paul to the Corinthian church in regard to their response to a repentant brother have practical application for us: “The punishment inflicted on him by the majority is sufficient for him. Now instead, you ought to forgive and comfort him, so that he will not be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. I urge you, therefore, to reaffirm your love for him.”
The Restoration Committee
We felt that one of the real tests of Truman’s repentance would be his willingness to submit to a group of lay people. This group, in the long run, was a crucial ingredient in the restoration process.
This group was appointed by the board of Calvary Church. Truman was not involved in picking the members. The fact that he was not in control of this process was important. He was not to tell us how to restore him; this group was going to tell him.
I knew the lay committee needed to be made up of people committed to restoration, but some of them needed to be skeptics. Just because they believed in restoration didn’t mean they all thought Truman was going to get there. So we had a combination of assurers and doubters.
The group met with Truman and Donna Dollar once a month for about nine months, with no fixed agenda. Jim DeVries met with Truman about once a week.
The group was not a jury. Its primary purpose was to care, to love, to support the personal healing process, and to guide in vocational decisions.
Immediately, that meant helping Truman find work. The board at Temple Baptist had agreed to pay severance for a limited time. But Truman still needed something to do.
“The greatest pressure when you step out of ministry,” Truman said to me one day, “is figuring out how to earn a living. You discover very quickly that the world out there is very unimpressed that you’ve been a pastor. You’re essentially qualified to do nothing. The skills of ministry don’t necessarily transfer into business.”
I arranged with some business people in the church to get him an office. Even before he had a position, I felt he needed somewhere to go every day.
Eventually Truman linked up with business people, became a partner in some of their ventures, and ended up with a business of his own.
The lay committee also made sure the healing process continued.
After about three months, when life began to stabilize, the group recommended that Truman and Donna go to Marble Retreat, a facility in Colorado that offers pastors intensive therapy.
Again, the Dollars initially resisted, feeling that they were just beginning to regain emotional equilibrium—why stir up the pain all over again?
But the lay committee insisted: “You need to see if there are some root causes that brought this situation about. As a committee, we’re not equipped to do that. We want you to probe the underlying drives, motivations, and fears that might cause this situation to recur in the future.”
Those two weeks of focused help with psychiatrist Louis McBurney became a key turning point in the recovery process. Not only did their cooperation show that Truman and Donna were committed to the restoration process, but they both came back able to point to specific things they gained from the experience.
Truman, for instance, had to sense deeply that his significance and value to God is not determined by whether he’s in ministry or by the size of his church. He had to accept both emotionally and intellectually that there’s more to life than work.
He also learned more clearly the importance of a personal relationship with God, not just a professional relationship with God.
“For the last three years,” Truman told me recently, “I have read the Bible and prayed because I needed to read the Bible and pray. For thirty years before that, I read the Bible and prayed, allegedly because I needed to, but I was really doing it for everybody else.”
In short, he learned balance. He’s now convinced that it’s okay to take time off to relax, to exercise, to spend time with his family—to be something besides a pastor of a big church.
Yet another role of the committee was to resist the temptation to short-circuit the process and announce complete restoration too soon. One of the tests of Truman’s repentance was his willingness to bring to this group things he needed their counsel on, and to submit to their wisdom. He clearly demonstrated that.
The Pastoral Connection
Some people feel that if a pastor messes up, restoration means taking him to rock bottom, stripping him of dignity and worth, forcing him to rebuild.
I felt otherwise. In Truman’s case, the process of resigning and being on the front page of the Detroit newspaper was humiliation enough. I didn’t want deliberately to add to the humiliation he’d already brought on himself. To do so would likely bring about bitterness and loss of hope.
So, while not part of the committee, I called Truman several times a week to keep in touch. I must confess that, amid this flurry of activity, it was difficult to concentrate on the responsibilities I had as pastor of Calvary Church. In the early stages of the process, I welcomed the challenge of this additional pressure. But the longer the process went, the more effort it required. Yet I felt compelled to do it.
I was committed to preserving Truman’s dignity. I was calling him to let him know that our relationship was the same. He wasn’t a pastor anymore, but he was still my friend. If I was struggling with decisions in the church, I’d run my concerns by him. I didn’t care if he’d messed up. He still had wisdom.
But we usually ended up talking about what he was going through, which was an overwhelming sense of loss and worthlessness. These visits took a lot of my time; nevertheless I felt they were important.
In the days since, Truman has indicated that these informal conversations, and his conversations with Jim DeVries, during which they would read Scripture and pray, were some of the most important in the restoration process.
Truman now says that Jim DeVries is “the first real friend I’ve ever had.” Everybody else has been “a friend with conditions, a friend because of ministry.” But Jim, according to Truman, is the first guy he’s met in his entire life who accepts and loves him as a person, not as a preacher or church leader.
Jim’s continuing contact was key in gauging Truman’s progress.
When Is Restoration Complete?
Ultimately, in the restoration process, you’ve got to make a judgment call. Because discernment is so difficult, a group needs to be involved—no individual is capable of seeing the whole picture.
After eighteen months, we reviewed the steps we had seen:
1. Truman’s willingness to accept the authority of the lay committee and to be accountable, demonstrated when the committee rejected his desire to re-enter ministry prematurely.
2. Truman’s willingness to accept professional counseling and embrace an examination of his spiritual and emotional foundation.
3. Truman’s willingness to accept fully secular employment as a long-term option. The longer the process went, the less insistent he became of returning to pulpit ministry.
4. Truman’s evidence of contrition. Truman had always been one to dominate a group by the force of his personality. Now, he didn’t have to be center stage; he no longer tried to run the meetings. Instead of directing the conversation, he was hesitant to speak, and when he did, it was often with deep emotion.
He confessed, “There are times when I am sitting in my office in the middle of conducting business, and I close the door and just break down and weep uncontrollably. This is now almost three years later. I am still overwhelmed with the awfulness, not just of what I did, but what my actions brought about in my family and the church and the cause of Christ.”
After reviewing these developments, the lay committee recommended to Calvary Church that the Dollars be accepted as members without any restrictions on service, which meant that they could teach, lead, serve, and perform any of the normal functions within the local church.
This cleared the way for the pastors’ committee to clear Truman to accept a leadership position. Shortly thereafter, the ministerial group met and removed its previous recommendations of restraint. We knelt together and laid hands on Truman and prayed over him. We encouraged him to get involved in ministry again.
The pastoral committee unanimously agrees that Truman is now free to accept a leadership position, but our understanding is that any decision will be made with the advice and consent of the committee.
I don’t think the process of restoration is ever finished. Our formal involvement, which has seen him back to health, to stability, to restoration, has ended. But in my opinion, Truman will wrestle with these issues for the rest of his life. But now more than ever he knows personally the grace and healing power of God.
Copyright © 1992 by Christianity Today
