Victory Out of Defeat

Bad men excuse their faults; good men will leave them.
Ben Johnson

In a statement worthy of Yogi Berra (who once said, “You can observe a lot just by watching”), one pastor summed up his philosophy of mistakes: “I may not always do what’s right, but I won’t do wrong.” He meant that he may make mistakes, but once he does, he is scrupulous about his conduct as he extricates himself.

Watergate, the classic negative example, showed a whole generation not only how to blunder badly, but how to be bad blunderers. Lies, cover-ups, and betrayed loyalties compounded the initial mistake. What pastors seek in the midst of a mistake is something completely different: a principled recovery, a moral victory in spite of the original mistake.

Taking that moral high ground demands integrity and courage. At just the point when all the world seems to be crumbling, the pastor needs most of all to be stable, to resist petty and vicious retribution, to honor God by modeling faithful behavior. It is perhaps at the point of error that the true character of the pastor shows through.

C. S. Lewis writes in Mere Christianity: “Surely what a man does when he is taken off his guard is the best evidence for what sort of a man he is. Surely what pops out before the man has time to put on a disguise is the truth. If there are rats in a cellar you are most likely to see them if you go in very suddenly. But the suddenness does not create the rats: it only prevents them from hiding. In the same way the suddenness of the provocation does not make me an ill-tempered man: it only shows me what an ill-tempered man I am. The rats are always there in the cellar, but if you go in shouting and noisily they will have taken cover before you switch on the light.”

When the veneer of success and pleasantness peels off suddenly in a mistake, what’s left is the inner person, and that’s who must find the way out of the problem. Few people can summon character in crisis that wasn’t added layer upon layer throughout the rest of life. When the fire alarm sounds at 3 a.m., a city needs firefighters at the station house. That is not the time for a recruitment drive. Before a pastor makes a mistake — that’s the time to forge the character that will carry him or her through.

Since recovery is aided by character patterns forged over a lifetime, what makes up the character, built during the fat years, that will carry though the lean years? Pastors have indicated several traits.

Openness

“If I am going to retain my people’s respect, I’ve got to remain open-minded, and that means being receptive to negative input,” states Gene Owens. “So I make a habit of submitting my views and actions to key people around me. If I am contemplating a decision, I’ll ask them, ‘Am I wrong? If so, then correct me. Don’t let me make a fool of myself!’

“Now to get good feedback, I’ve got to be able to take what they tell me. I can’t get defensive. They’ll read that right away, and if they do, I’ll only hear from them what I want to hear, not what I need to hear.”

Owens is not saying pastors should be so open-minded they become empty-headed. What he does urge is transparency, nondefensiveness. The ability to take criticism or absorb negative opinions not only helps avoid touchy situations but helps mend the breach caused by mistakes. An open pastor is an aware pastor. Harold Englund, who autographs the eggs he lays and holds them up for all to see, exemplifies this stance.

Only the person with something to hide is discovered; only one with a secret is exposed. Those who bury their mistakes often find they are dug up later — dirty, musty, and lieencrusted. Paul wrote the Ephesians, “Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.… Everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for it is light that makes everything visible” (5:11, 13-14). Transparent pastors throw open the shutters. That character trait, practiced in good times, becomes even more valuable in times of trouble.

Discernment

The wisdom to know when to battle and when to give way, the discernment to know what is truly important and what can slide, can help pastors avoid mistakes or get through the ones they make. Dick Lincoln of Shandon Baptist Church in Columbia, South Carolina, reasons, “I can’t afford to waste my silver bullets. I’ve got to use them on the monsters, not midgets. So I pick my battles carefully. I might not go to war over something like church buses, but I probably would if somebody wanted to cut evangelism from our priorities.”

In Terry Muck’s research for his book When to Take a Risk, he discovered that some pastors tend to view any dispute as theological. In exaggerated terms, if they don’t like the cut of your suit, these pastors may consider you a heretic. Pastors like these were forced to leave their congregations more often than those with the discernment to label some misunderstandings a difference of opinion or a personality clash.

Those irenic souls (who yet maintain a corpus of truth that cannot be compromised) find that once they are in a battle, the issues are taken seriously. When they haven’t been crying wolf at every occasion, people come running when they do. They have built up reserves of good will from which to draw.

Following a ministry mistake, various courses of action present themselves to a pastor, often at a dizzying pace. Do I tell Martha and gain her backing, or might she blackball me in Session? What I did wasn’t all that dumb, and I might be able to convince people to see my side; should I defend it? Or should I just take the rap? Tom’s wrong, but if I point it out will I look petty? I’m not the only one involved in this; should I pin the blame on the others, too? The wisdom to know the right choices — even to know whom to ask to help decide those right choices — cannot be purchased; it must be developed over years of practice. But this character trait of discernment helps us struggle fairly and wisely as we try to right the error of our ways.

Honesty

Rationalizing is one of the simplest games in town. When we become regular players, we tend to rely on those skills at the time of a mistake. And then we are in deep trouble.

Stan, the pastor whose wife, Marj, had an affair, became particularly adept at rationalizing his time away from his family. After all, he had given them to the Lord to take care of. His ministry was of cosmic importance; people’s lives were being saved; the business of the kingdom was getting done.

So, driven by an inward desire to succeed, to build a large church, Stan quit listening to the signals around him about his family’s distress. Wrapped around a pledge never to be henpecked, Stan rationalized himself right out of a marriage and, for a time, out of the ministry. Stan failed the honesty test with himself.

Robert Millen exhibited honesty in every area but the one that undid him. He was an upright person. He kept his appointments. He was scrupulous with church finances. But he deceived his trusting wife and everyone else for two long decades. It wasn’t until he opened up with devastating honesty that his own soul could quit hemorrhaging from the lies. His words now trail off into the silence of conjecture: “If I had only gone to my wife sooner …”

“If onlys” dog the dishonest.

Honesty also means no hidden agendas. One associate pastor, called in to unscramble a theological fracas left by the departing senior pastor, said: “I had to get positions out into the open, so I got the council to take a stand. We publicized our position, basically saying, ‘We believe baptizing children is valid, and this is what we plan to do.’

“Up to this point, the congregation had been abuzz with conjecture and conflicting signals. Once we took our stand, the congregation knew what to expect. I insisted on openness, honesty, no hidden agendas, and it worked. We lost some people, but we got through it once we did away with conjecture and confusion.”

Honesty is still the best policy. What is not made dear through direct statements will eventually be dispersed (and likely distorted) by the parish gossip channels. Any number of bizarre interpretations will circulate. Then Murphy’s Law kicks in: The more harmful the idea, the more apt it is to be believed.

Integrity

Wrong alternatives abound in the aftermath of a mistake. Cover-ups, finger pointing, run-from-it-all flight — who hasn’t considered them? Expediency and shady tactics look terribly appealing to the desperate.

Yet “get through this at any price” is not the name of the game. To evidence anything other than the strictest integrity is to pile iniquity upon error. After our wrong is the time to be downright upright.

“This is precisely the time I need to recognize the difference between the flesh and the Spirit,” states Glen Knecht, pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Columbia, South Carolina. “I can usually tell what the flesh is after. The flesh wants me to do things ‘right now!’ It’s impulsive. On the other hand, the Spirit is more patient. The Spirit keeps coming back patiently with the same idea. If I will take the time to know the mind of the Spirit, then I can head the right direction. Then I need the courage to do what I know is righteous. To know what is right is one thing, to do it another.”

The pastor of a large congregation confessed: “I made a dumb decision, and the people in the church started getting after me. Finally I’d had it, and I lost my temper. In no uncertain terms I told a group of our leaders to mind their own business. After I blew up, I stomped out of the room.

“What a mistake! People can’t take it when a pastor loses his cool. My vented anger — while it made me feel good at the time — set back my cause considerably. I never want to take that tack again.” To keep his anger in check, this pastor set up an exercise program, changed the pace of his day, and vented in minor ways with his wife. “I’m afraid she suffered through some of my pent-up emotions,” he recalls.

This pastor lived through his not-so-upright response to his initial mistake. He mended fences and changed his ways. But even so, there remain a few parishioners who won’t forget “the day our pastor yelled at us.”

Here again lies the reason for searing these character traits into one’s soul before the disaster. The one who makes integrity a habit will be able to respond with reflexive patterns. Upright decisions and actions will flow more naturally, even in the crunch.

Foresight

“Some people could back themselves into a corner in an igloo!” joked one pastor. “They seem to lack the knack of leaving themselves a graceful exit.” No pastor wants to blunder into an inescapable corner. Those with foresight rarely do.

A Baptist pastor reveals his design: “Whenever I have a major decision to make, maybe a direction to move the church or a new program to launch, I build into the process a tactful way out. That way if we get into it and it’s simply a bum idea, we can all gracefully retreat. That strategy has saved me from several mistakes that might have toppled me had I been less prepared.”

A Presbyterian pastor wanted to change the order of worship, which is not set for him by the denomination but was considered sacrosanct by some of his congregation. His intended changes were not great, but he knew some of the people might grumble. So he got the worship committee to endorse the revision as “an experiment.” They told the church they would all try the new order for two months and evaluate it then to determine if it should be kept, modified, or discarded.

The congregation had little difficulty with that process. In fact, most enjoyed “experimenting.” The pastor gave the people his best effort during those two months, and the people overwhelmingly approved the changes. Many of those who were originally skeptical found they liked the new way better after the unfamiliarity wore off. The pastor’s foresight avoided a mistake.

Although not everything can be calculated, ministers with foresight do what they can to choreograph the exit of a difficult scene even prior to entering the stage. The minister who can dance gracefully off stage after a missed cue saves embarrassment for the whole cast.

One Who Prevailed

Pulling together disparate character traits to successfully resolve a mistake, living through a harrowing time with upright spirit, is never easy, but Mark Huff shows it can be done.

Mark wanted to minister to the singles in Dallas from the time he was called as senior pastor of Tabernacle Assembly thirteen years before. The steel and glass high-rises seemed to contain an inordinate number of equally stark lives. But the church needed a C.E. director and a youth pastor and a song leader and any number of other support staff. One by one Mark had built a solid staff, and the church was finally able to talk about filling a position for ministry to singles.

Mark knew such a ministry demanded a special kind of person. The pitfalls of singles ministry seemed almost as great as the need and the potential. So Mark looked around and inquired among his associates. In a nearby church, he ran into Willie Longmire, who was ministering to a growing singles group. Mark checked with Willie’s pastor and received a satisfactory reference. Mark interviewed Willie and hired him within a month.

Willie was sharp. A rather messy divorce about three years back blemished his record, but Mark found himself liking Willie. He figured there must be good justification for Willie’s divorce. And besides, Willie wouldn’t be on the ordained staff; he would be singles director.

“For the first year,” Mark recalls, “Willie had a phenomenal ministry, the kind that makes a pastor’s eyes dance with delight. He put on high-profile singles seminars that attracted numbers of sharp young folk. These were expensive undertakings with the advertising and speakers’ fees and all, and they always seemed to go over budget. But the splash we were making seemed to justify it.

“But after a year or so, when we started analyzing things, we found that Willie was more splash than substance. One of his singles gatherings cost us $8,000, and six months later we could trace only one person who had joined our church. We weren’t seeing any Christian return from his ministry. That kind of pattern unsettled us, so I decided to talk with Willie about the matter.”

As soon as Mark brought it up, however, it seemed like Willie was waiting for him.

“What are you looking for?” he asked. “Numbers? I can give you numbers if you want, but I’d just as soon be allowed to do my ministry my own way.”

Mark tried to explain that he didn’t so much want numbers as spiritual results, people who had clearly benefited from the ministry.

“I didn’t get through,” Mark said later. Willie left that meeting quite upset, and Mark was left scratching his head.

That was only the beginning of problems with Willie. He had trouble remaining financially responsible. Then he started spreading rumors that he was being persecuted. Since he was so popular, his attitude began to sow dissension in the congregation. Finally, after many rounds that ended in a draw, Mark asked Willie to resign.

But Willie was not one to disappear quietly. While Mark was away on vacation, he got a call from another associate: “I think you’d better come back immediately. You could lose your church.” Willie had arranged secret meetings and had mustered a sizable following. They were demanding that either Mark work out his differences with Willie or Mark leave the church.

Mark returned and tackled one problem after another. After two months it looked like Willie had found the perfect out: a large church wanted him to be pastor. Mark was ecstatic until Willie announced he had turned down the offer. At this turn, Mark decided he needed a showdown. He convened the church leaders and documented his troubles with Willie. The leaders agreed to fire him. Finally Willie admitted defeat, but he left unwillingly.

The following Sunday, before many knew about the firing, Mark preached on unity, using John 17 as his text. About twelve hundred were present. The news was announced that week, and the following Sunday had nine hundred in attendance.

“I preached three hundred people right out of here,” Mark lamented. The next three weeks saw attendance fall about one hundred per Sunday. Eventually attendance leveled off around six hundred.

Willie found another position in another state, but before long a group from Tabernacle Assembly began meeting to start a new church. Two of the wealthiest in that group flew in Willie (who lied to his pastor about his activities for the weekend) to preach at the first service. That group never quite got off the ground, but the instigators eventually joined a weak church about a mile from Tabernacle, gained control, deposed the pastor, and — yes — called Willie. Soon after that, in one week Mark got 105 requests for letters of transfer from people wanting to join Willie’s church.

The affair took its toll on Mark and his church. Finances plummeted, morale sagged, membership dropped off, and Mark had to use all his skill just to keep the church afloat. To top that off, people from Willie’s church began harassing Tabernacle. They tried to get the church’s service taken off the radio. They nearly convinced the health authorities to cancel Tabernacle’s hot meals program for the elderly. They wrote letters to Tabernacle’s guest speakers trying to get them not to come.

As Mark looks back, he sighs, “I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the grief and depression — the fear — from that episode. You can’t believe how it undermined my confidence. We’re just now pulling out of it as a church, but the wounds are deep.”

Wounded Mark was, but in the midst of that trial stemming from his hiring mistake, he tried to maintain a God-honoring posture. “Once I understood what I was getting into with Willie, I resolved to practice three principles,” he said.

1. I will do right, as I understand it, when everything is going wrong, so when things do right themselves again I will have no regrets. “I had to believe we wouldn’t be in this situation forever, and when I looked back on it, I wanted to think I had at least attemped to comport myself as Jesus would have.”

2. I will rid myself of anything that might make me compromise my position. “I told my family, ‘I’m doing what I think is right. Now this may cost me the church. Can we do without our home, the car, college for our daughters?’ They stood with me. I had to decide, too, if I could still feel like a man if I were forced out of the pastorate. I gave up the church in my mind so I wouldn’t feel forced to use any means — right or wrong — to stay.”

3. I will not let them just take the church, I will not walk away from it, and I will not run away for another opportunity until all the ends are tied up. “I wasn’t willing to capitulate, nor did I allow myself to quit just because I felt like it. That’s an awful temptation. Not allowing another juicy opening to lure me away meant I had to stay and fix this mess. Those other opportunities look all the better when the home church is a mess, but I didn’t want to give up for the sake of my own convenience.”

These resolves worked for Mark, and they kept him and the church on the high road. Mark’s still at his church, and though he and the church often grieve the fight, they hold their heads high. Mark and Tabernacle Assembly won the moral victory. The church is again vigorous.

Willie? He lasted about eighteen months at the nearby church and vacated for parts unknown. Sadly, his church has just about followed him into oblivion.