The staff sat silent. Jim, our senior pastor, was reading the letter of resignation he would present to the board that night. When he finished, my throat was tight. Had I tried to speak, I would have broken into tears. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see our children’s director trying not to cry, too.
I’d been afraid this was going to happen. It had been a rough year for Jim-a rough six years, actually. A month before, though, we had gone to lunch, and he’d said he had turned down the most recent overture from somewhere else.
The meeting closed quickly. As I left the room, I couldn’t look at him.
I can’t believe it, I thought. This is the second time in my seven years here that my senior pastor has departed.
It was my birthday, too. “Happy birthday, Len,” I said out loud as I started the car to drive home.
I know some of my colleagues in other churches would look at the resignation of their senior pastor as a wonderful gift from the Lord. Not so here. We were a close staff. We laughed at the same jokes. We found comfort and encouragement in our working relationship. And I was looking forward to many more years with Jim as my boss. He wasn’t perfect, but he was a humble man. He wouldn’t even introduce himself as a senior pastor. More than once I heard him introduce himself to other pastors as “one of the staff at North Seattle Alliance.” He had a way of inspiring loyalty.
At the board meeting that night, Jim read his letter. To my surprise, there were no gasps. The meeting pretty well carried on as though nothing major had happened.
I am normally not very emotional, but I was furious at the board. Don’t you realize this church is in danger of being “once great”? You could have supported this man; you could have answered his obvious cry for support a few months ago. Do you think good pastors grow on trees?
But I was mad at Jim, too. How can you leave? This is a crucial time. This church can become a former great church if the right decisions about the future aren’t made. Now our whole long-range planning process has been sidetracked. What about all the things we fought for? Couldn’t you see us through this planning minefield before leaving the war zone?
In the weeks that followed, my emotions cycled through Kbler-Ross’s stages of grief. Just when I thought the final stage of acceptance had been achieved, something would set me back to denial or anger. I kept a fairly calm veneer, but inside I was churning. I would lie awake at night replaying past events and what “could have been.”
After Jim left, attendance fell off and giving dropped substantially. In six months we were in such a cash-flow crisis we could not afford to mail the letters to tell people we were having a crisis. We had to ask people to pick them up after the morning services.
That crisis caused curtailment of ministry across the board. As I worked through the junior and senior high ministries, eliminating some things and raising the prices on others, I couldn’t help but give mental speeches to the board as to how all this could have been avoided. At board meetings I sometimes wondered who around the table was happy we were looking for a new pastor.
It also bothered me that the willingness to do future planning had seemingly evaporated. So many things were put on hold “until we see what the new pastor thinks.”
The last sentence of Jim’s resignation letter had read, “Our futures are bright because He lives!” But it took me half a year to actually believe those words. I’m thankful it was only nine months before our new senior pastor arrived.
Lessons on leaving
As I reflect on this experience and the earlier time when the senior pastor resigned, I realize there are some insights that helped me.
Leavings can be expected. It helped a great deal to remember leavings are normal. Since I do not aspire to be pastor of pulpit ministries and I am committed to long-term ministry in the same church, it’s only logical that I’ll outlast others on the staff. Hearing the senior pastor read his letter of resignation is part of what I signed up for.
Grief and anger are normal. I have watched many others move through the stages of grief when facing a tragic loss. I, too, was experiencing loss-of a boss I deeply respected and admired, of our shared plans for the future. Grief is the appropriate response.
Anger, especially, is typical during transitions. I am not normally an angry person. In fact, I was raised in a home where, in eighteen years of memories, I cannot remember a voice raised in anger even once by any member of our family. Yet now I found myself mad.
One reason was that the announcement came as such a shock. Yet in retrospect, I am glad neither Jim nor his predecessor let me know of his possible resignation ahead of time. While this made the resignations more shocking, at least I was functioning normally until the bomb dropped. There is a kind of delicious ego satisfaction in being “in the know,” but I can do without it if it means more effective ministry in the meantime.
In my first church, the head pastor was unhappy and wanted to leave when I had been there about two years. My dominant recollection of the following year is feeling insecure. How could I plan, even in the youth ministry, knowing my boss might leave? (I ended up leaving first, to come to North Seattle Alliance; he left about a year later.) So in spite of the understandable anger at being surprised, I’ve come to see the value in not always knowing my senior pastor’s plans to move on.
Make contact with the board immediately. Part of the emotional turmoil is caused by the sudden uncertainty about your future role. It’s important to find out your status and the board’s expectations.
When I candidated at North Seattle, one of my first questions to the board was “What happens to me if and when the senior pastor leaves?”
The reply: “Nothing. We’ll find a new pastor to fit the existing staff.”
But when Jim left, I needed to touch base with the board again. I am grateful to God that even though the people on the board have changed over the years, they have remained true to that reply of years ago.
After both resignations, the personnel committee gathered in my office within a week. These three people reminded me of their expectation that I remain. They also met with me several times in the interim period, listened to my frustration, and supported me in the herculean task of keeping things going normally in an interim period.
Another reason for being in close communication with the board is to understand clearly how the senior pastor’s workload will be handled during the interim, and how each staff member and key lay person will be affected. It is important for the departing pastor to leave recommendations; he is in the best position to know the gifts of the staff.
As it turned out, the board split Jim’s job in half, giving my colleague Wes Jeske the preaching responsibilities and me the executive officer portfolio. Though the additional load at times made us cringe, it worked out pretty well. We knew clearly who was handling what.
Find extra support for yourself and your family. Staff members and their families need extra emotional support during the interim. My calendar quickly filled with extra meetings, and I was not always able to leave my stress at the office. But I did fairly well as people expressed appreciation for my extra work. It was a nine-month adrenalin high.
Unfortunately, my wife, Janet, was virtually a single parent for a few months. The children said I was no fun to be around anymore because I was always tired and had my mind on other things.
I wish I would have been more sensitive to my family and given them more support. My wife encouraged me to be candid with the board about the stress we were feeling. At the time, I didn’t think that was necessary or appropriate. I realize now that had we reached out for support, people in the congregation would have been happy to help, and much of the stress could have been lessened.
When the new pastor comes
Making it through the resignation and interim is only part of a smooth transition. What happens when the new boss comes? Experience has been a good teacher here as well.
If the candidating process has been done right, the first few weeks of the new pastor’s tenure should hold few surprises, if any. Staff meetings will be long as the staff tries to bring the new person up to date. A staff retreat in the first few months helps the bonding process.
I may want more one-on-one time with the new pastor than is feasible. I’ve got to remember that the pastor needs to be allowed time to get to know people in the congregation.
I have always felt it my duty and honor to give 100 percent support to the new senior pastor, publicly and privately. If I believe God has been working, and this new pastor has come as the result of godly decision making, then I show lack of faith if I give something less. I try to convey directly to the new senior pastor that I’m willing to attempt anything he asks, help in any way, and aim high when he says jump.
I’ve found it takes a year after the arrival of a senior pastor for things to truly get back to normal. A new person needs at least one lap around the calendar to get the feel of the church’s ministry.
One indication of that happening in our staff is when we agree upon a suitable nickname for the new head pastor. We called Jim “Big Toad.” (The rest of us became Personal Toad, Adolescent Toad, Outreach Toad, and Children’s Toad.)
Jim’s successor, Wendell Price, was eventually dubbed “Dad,” the rest of us, “Young Bucks.”
About a year after Wendell came, our planning got back on track. The church was jammed, and we were looking at how we could accommodate more people. My semiannual review was affirming; we both felt things were working out well.
Shadowing this period of optimism was the startling news that Wendell had acute leukemia and only weeks to live. The week after my review, he wasn’t feeling well and had a sore throat.
“You Young Bucks ought to be grateful for good health!” he told us.
I went out and bought him a root beer milk shake. Barging into his office, I placed it firmly on his desk, pointed my finger at him (a famous gesture of his), and said, “Take your medicine, Dad!”
That was my last opportunity to serve him. The next time I saw him was in a hospital room. He had gone to be with the Lord only half an hour before.
I am numb. Here we go again.
-Leonard M. Kageler
North Seattle Alliance Church
Seattle, Washington
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