We are highlighting Leadership Journal's Top 40, the best articles of the journal's 36-year history. We will be presenting them in chronological order. Today we present #29, from 1988. This article was paired with one on pastoral ethics by Archibald Hart: Being Moral Isn't Always Enough: What you may do and what you should do are two different things.
A code of ethics for pastors, according to some, is about as necessary as Reeboks for a jaguar. After all, ministers live and breathe morality, don't they? Their job is upholding a community's ethics, isn't it? So why a code for pastors?
Yet one glance through recent news highlights would indicate that such an opinion is now in the minority. Where once the assumption was that pastors are ethical, except for the odd bad apple, now there's widespread distrust.
"I'm almost embarrassed to be introduced as a clergyman anymore," confesses one Presbyterian pastor.
Why Bother with a Code?
Professionals have formulated codes of ethics since the time of Hippocrates in the fifth century B.C. His vow to protect confidences and to do no harm elevated the medical profession.
The preamble to the American Nurses' Association's "Code for Nurses" begins, "A code of ethics makes explicit the primary goals and values of the profession. When individuals become nurses they make a moral commitment to uphold the values and special moral obligations expressed in their code." Having it written out explicitly aids nurses, who have something to turn to in times of moral questioning.
Pastors may not have an explicit code of ethical behavior, [since this article was published, the National Association of Evangelicals developed one for pastors and another for congregations], but they are wise to wrestle through the key questions and develop a personal code, something that both speaks to their needs and reflects their best understanding of what sound Christian ethics dictate.
Thus, here is a "do-it-yourself kit" to raise ethical questions, supply a variety of responses, and help pastors construct their own codes.
The following eight sections outline broad areas of ethical concern. In each section, questions are raised and a case study illustrates how at least one of those questions hits home in the ministry. A panel of twelve Christian leaders, who were asked to offer their experience-tempered opinions, provides a variety of options.
Beliefs: Candor vs. Assurance
Christian ministry rests on a sacred body of beliefs. A pastor's adherence to those beliefs is obviously necessary. Pastors feel the need to remain faithful to the essential beliefs of their ordaining bodies. But problems arise. Sometimes beliefs, although genuine, change. Study, new insight, interaction with peers-all can serve to modify understanding, and when that initial understanding changes, an ethical dilemma appears. Consider the case of Murray Wells, who fears injuring members' faith (all the following cases are fictionalized accounts of pastoral experiences):
Murray Wells is a scholarly pastor. He's fluent in the original biblical languages and an excellent exegete. Recent study has convinced him that his church's policy regarding women's roles is neither biblically nor sociologically sound. He realizes change is needed in his independent congregation. But that involves amending the by-laws and conventionalities-not to mention the hard-held beliefs-of a tradition-bound congregation.
Murray thinks he ought to try. As part of his plan, he decides to preach on Paul's writings about women and leadership. But he's not so sure that's a good idea. Murray's fear: To present the whole picture, he will have to face and resolve some difficult textual and exegetical questions. Murray knows he won't knowingly do anything to undermine the authority of Scripture, but will his people understand? He fears the controversy might damage the tender faith of young believers.
What should Murray do? The responses of our panel varied.
"As preachers, we're not seeking confirmation or consensus; we're looking for truth. Murray needs to preach the truth, but that takes the pastoral ability to allow people to have opinions that differ from his own," said Charles Farr, rector of Epiphany Episcopal Church in Denver, Colorado.
"We need to preach the Word without apology where it's clear," suggested Duane Litfin, who pastors First Evangelical Church in Memphis, Tennessee, "but difficult exegetical questions call for humility. I'd work with other leaders of the church. We don't function by ourselves; other godly leaders surround us."
Several thought it unwise to begin a controversy in a public forum such as preaching. Emma Richards, pastor of Lombard (Illinois) Mennonite Church, suggested a long-range strategy of tackling the subject in a seminar setting.
Other questions also arise out of the belief issue. For example, what should pastors do when personal theology begins to depart from the understanding of those who ordained them? Of the dozen pastors we asked, about half thought it best to inform the local church and denominational authorities in a low-key way and decide with them what to do. The other half endorsed gentle but straightforward efforts to sway the congregation.
The magnitude of the issue proved the deciding factor. Small issues can be preached as if there were no problem. "If it's something minor, I'd just preach straight ahead and not make a big deal about it," offered Robert Oglesby, who ministers at Waterview Church of Christ in Richardson, Texas. "If I don't win the day, I won't beat it to death." Such a preaching and teaching plan was a common response for minor issues.
If the issue is major-a key denominational doctrine or a cornerstone belief-the consensus was to draw attention to it in the right circles, and even to resign quietly if necessary.
"When you assume a pastorate, you make a covenant to work within that belief system. If you find yourself no longer comfortable with that ethical demand, then you need to inform church leaders about your change of heart and be submissive to what they want to do about it," said Paul Bubna, pastor of Long Hill Chapel in Chatham, New Jersey. None of our panel counseled quiet subversion in major matters.
A lesser dilemma occurs when preaching from a "Gordian knot" passage-one for which, despite all the untangling you do, you just can't arrive at a definite interpretation. You don't know what you really believe about the passage, and yet you need to preach it. What do you say?
"I tell folks, 'I'm no authority. I'm a struggler,' " said Don Finto, pastor of Belmont Church in Nashville.
"When a passage is full of options I haven't been able to master, I give people the full range and then present my own view, but not dogmatically. But such situations should be uncommon," said Earl Schamehorn, general headquarters administrator for the Free Methodist Church of North America.
Paul Bubna put it this way: "If you preach expositionally, part of the commitment is to be honest about the journey. I might say, 'This passage is like a piece of fish: There are bones in it, but that doesn't keep us from picking off the meat.' " Two-thirds of the panel agreed, and the other third thought it best to preach only the parts you know or to avoid the passage altogether until you have a firm grasp on its meaning.
Service: Altruism vs. Realism
Pastors are not "in the business" for themselves. God has called them to minister to others; it's God they want to serve.
Yet, the problem is being realistic about that selfless attitude. Ministers learn early on that balancing church and nonchurch needs spells the difference between effective ministry and effectively draining oneself of all capacity to minister. Most pastors work throughout ministry to fine-tune that balance. Consider the following case:
Otto Kovak, now in his third decade of ministry, has a dilemma. His wife, Sophie, is suffering through a postmenopausal depression, and Otto is suffering beside her.
Sophie is under expert care, but the symptoms of depression cloud her every day. She sleeps poorly, often waking Otto several times a night. Beginning the day marks a dreary routine-get Sophie out of bed and groomed, fix breakfast and make her eat, try to cheer her up, worry about her safety as he leaves for work. Often Otto can't get into the office until 9:30, and several times a week he has to rush home to make sure Sophie doesn't follow through on her vague threats of suicide. Sometimes he talks with her for an hour at a time on the office phone.
Sophie, very simply, is demanding so much of Otto that he can't give what he ought to ministry. His neglect is starting to show, and his people, as much as they love him, are beginning to display a little resentment behind their outward concern for Sophie and him. What is he to do?
The panel's suggestions:
Paul Koehneke, pastor of Trinity Lutheran Church in St. Joseph, Michigan, came up with four options: resign, take a leave of absence, find help to keep her at home, or temporarily place her in a nursing facility. "I'd research the options," he said. "Then I'd share those options with the board. Talking over the problems, we could come up with a course of action that I could ask them to work on with me."
"Almost any problem will shrink if you will be open with it," advised Harold Englund, a senior staff member at the Crystal Cathedral in Garden Grove, California. "Tell people what you're afraid of, and you make them your allies. Otto would do his people a favor by saying, 'Years ago I stood at the head of a church aisle and told my wife I would stick with her in sickness and in health. She needs me now, and that means I need you.' People, I find, are willing, even anxious to help us. Otto is worrying about how the congregation is reacting. If he will but name the demon, it probably won't hurt him."
Robert Oglesby suggested other strategies: "Use your phone more. Keep a time log to show that although you might not be there at nine in the morning, you're still at work at nine at night. Report your hours in writing to the board. Then rely on the board to help you make the right decision."
When pastoral needs collide with family needs, what do you do? Three of our panel leaned toward favoring pastoral needs, five sat firmly on the fence, and four almost always favored family needs. Here are some typical responses:
For pastoral needs: "My family is as committed to ministry as I am. If they weren't, I wouldn't be a pastor." "Families can sometimes be unreasonable." "It seems in recent years the pendulum might have swung too far in favor of families."
Fence sitters: "It depends on where the family is at the time." "I'm inclined toward the pastoral needs, but if there's an important event to go to with my family, I'll show up-although I might be late!"
For family needs: "My vows of marriage were not set aside when I was ordained. They're a prior commitment." "The pastoral care for my congregation happens when I'm meeting the pastoral needs of my family."
Morality: Boldness vs. Prudence
Does a pastor take the safe course, avoiding exposure to sinful situations? Or is a certain amount of moral risk necessary in order to carry out effective ministry? Consider Jess Lloyd:
From the time his body temperature heated up in puberty, Jess Lloyd fought a battle with lust. Becoming a pastor brought added responsibility and expectations, but it didn't calm his barely managed libido. Only by prayer, fear, and will power did Jess remain faithful to his wife.
Recently Jess was moved deeply by the testimony of a young runaway girl who had been rescued through an inner-city chaplaincy network. Through her, he saw the need of the exploited urchins at the city core. He immediately signed up for a weekly shift on street patrol.
Armed with a clerical collar and love, Jess began spending six hours a week walking the skid row streets in the late evening. This put him where the hurt was, and he was able to help some desperate kids. But it also immersed him in a sex-laden culture full of porno shops and kiddie call girls.
More and more, Jess found his mind filled with images of the night long after his stints. One day as he caught his fantasies resting on a girl in his youth group, Jess thought, I'm losing the battle! But he still ached for the welfare of the kids on the street. What is the responsible thing to do?
"Preachers sometimes think they have halos, but the halos are more vapor than substance," said Paul Koehneke.
A Dwight Moody statement paraphrased by Paul Bubna makes a similar point: "People go bankrupt in spiritual ministry for the same reason they do in business: they try to run too large a business on too little capital."
We asked our group if it is better to: (a) risk reputation for the sake of ministry opportunities, (b) take some risks but confine them to relatively safe areas, or (c) avoid the possibility of a fall from overestimating one's moral strength. One of them responded with a qualified a, five hovered between b and c, and six were solidly on c.
"There may come a time when I have to decide if it's worth risking some misunderstanding for the sake of ministry, but God never calls me to compromise my integrity," said Duane Litfin.
"There are times when you have to run some risk, but a risk like Jess's is stupid," said Harold Englund.
The universal guidance for Jess was to get out; it's not worth the risk. But that doesn't mean an end to his concern for runaways, or even ministry with them.
"I'd tell him, 'Jess, God has many servants; you're not the only one. Call attention to the need and raise up others to minister there.' Jess could form a small task force. He could use the buddy system. When the risk goes up, spread it. Otherwise you make yourself a lightning rod," said Harold Englund.
"Jess needs to bring in trusted brothers to counsel him. He's got to lay bare his thought life. He has a problem in not letting anybody know he's tempted. It will only grow in seclusion," said Don Finto.
Competence: Drive vs. Contentment
Ministers can never know enough. They forever dangle between the need to grow more competent and the conflicting time demands that hinder formal study or even regular reading.
Consider the following example:
"Pastor Jim, have you finished that book I gave you last month?" Bob Drovdahl asked. Jim looked blank. "You know, the one about economics and the end times? It's a great book. Have you found it interesting?"
Now Jim remembered. Bob had palmed it off on him, and Jim hadn't really known what to say at the time. "In all honesty, Bob," he replied, "I think it's still on the corner of my desk in my 'to read' pile, and the pile is pretty tall!" It hadn't moved in the month.
Bob let it drop, but he left muttering under his breath, and Jim could guess what he was saying: "You'd think a preacher would want to improve his mind. What's he do all day? Isn't he supposed to study?"
Jim thought, What makes him think I have the time to read any old book that strikes his fancy? If only he knew how many other books I want to read but don't have the time! Jim had his hands full at that church, and his goal of a day a week for pure study had suffered. As he booted up his computer to scan the visitor list, Jim dismissed the incident: Doesn't Bob know we covered that subject in seminary?
How can Jim manage with integrity the demands of his parishioners and his need for continuing growth, on the one hand, and the other competing demands of parish life and his own personal needs? "There will always be people who think they know better than you how you should run your life," lamented Robert Thune, pastor of Christ Community Church in Omaha. "I don't want to be insensitive, but I'm not about to be steered in every direction by such people. I won't compromise long-term effectiveness for the short-term gain of pleasing someone."
What should Jim do? "First, I'd confess I'm really busy and make no promises," suggested Robert Oglesby. "Second, I'd quickly scan the book to pick up an idea or two-enough to talk about it. Then when Bob came back, I'd say, 'Tell me more about the book from your viewpoint.' I want to get Bob's agenda. It may have nothing to do with my study habits. But I'm like a stray dog at a whistlers' convention if I try to do everything the Bobs of this world ask me to do."
There's a broader question lurking in these responses: How much should pastors push themselves? When asked about the balance between forever striving and finding contentment, pastors varied in their approach. Most thought it best for pastors to continue learning and growing, but to subordinate it to other demands and expectations. For instance, Robert Oglesby said, "It comes down to being task oriented or people oriented. We can't line up too far in either direction. Focus on one or the other and you leave yawning gaps: Jesus modeled both orientations."
"Who can be against improving ourselves?" Paul Bubna asked. "All the same, we have to be careful that the glory of God is the reason to develop our gifts and skills. Matthew 6:33 comes to mind: 'Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and all these things'-positions, influence-'will be added unto you.' This isn't a game of spiritualized self-actualization."
The other alternatives-continually pushing oneself and, conversely, resting content in what one does well-attracted some. Robert Thune said, "Striving can be overdone to the point that you become frenetic, and that's no good, but it is good to put steady pressure on yourself to keep moving ahead."
"I don't want to rest content with only what is," Emma Richards said, "but I have to be realistic about my limits. But then sometimes God surprises me. I'll do something or think a new thought, and I'll say to myself, Isn't it amazing how God works through me! Even when we don't strive, God can still be at work."
Compensation: Satisfaction vs. Assertiveness
To neither expect too much nor accept too little: the eternal quandary of the pastorate. Only a tiny percentage of pastors can ever expect to make what most professionals would consider a good living. But pastors don't enter the ministry for fat wallets. They answer a call to serve.
Still, they hope to be treated fairly. They have families to support and bills to pay. They don't want to live in penury-especially when the rest of the church is comfortable.
Besides wanting to strike a balance between the gold digger and the carpet man, pastors are concerned that their own business and financial matters remain free of unseemly gain or undignified practices. Stewardship, with all its ramifications, is an important matter. That's why Maria had a problem:
Maria Ruis, who pastors a small, inner-city flock, could count on it like clockwork: Some time the week before Christmas, Fernando Ortiz, a prominent baker in her neighborhood, would walk into her church office and with a flourish plop a $500 check on her desk. It would be made out in her name; he wanted her to have it, he'd say, "for all you've done for us this year."
Then on Christmas Eve, Fernando would be seen walking down the main aisle of the church as if he owned the place, stopping to greet old friends and shake hands like a politician on the stump. Fernando, part of the Christmas and Easter crowd, was irrepressible.
Fernando genuinely liked Maria, and he could afford the $500. But Maria felt uncomfortable. She knew his gifts to the church weren't all that much for a man of his wealth. And sometimes at community occasions, she felt vaguely patronized by Fernando. Does he think he's somehow buying God's favor by being generous with the pastor? she sometimes wondered.
Maria definitely could use the money. The church didn't pay much, and it was almost assumed that members' generosity would help her out a little. Maria vacillated. Should she continue accepting the gift?
The panel's responses ranged from "Yes. Accept it; he wants to give it" to "Never, unless you have a special arrangement with your church board." A lot depended on the circumstances.
Charles Farr asked, "Is it being given as a temptation or as a reward? Is this an opportunity to improve her character or to test her recognition of sincere gifts?"
Paul Koehneke wondered, "Is a gift or an obligation being given? I wouldn't want it if there were strings attached."
Duane Litfin joined Paul: "Does Maria feel compromised? If so, she shouldn't let Fernando get a handle on her through a gift. If there's the sense that Fernando is purchasing something, I'd fight like death the urge to accept the check."
B. Edgar Johnson, general secretary of the Church of the Nazarene, observed, "It seems Maria is sensing that the gift is a kind of payoff to God. If I sensed Fernando was in a sense 'tipping' God rather than supporting the work of the kingdom, I would be hesitant to accept it."
So what should Maria do? The panel suggested getting at the question of Fernando's spiritual health. Robert Oglesby gives this method: "In situations like this, I sometimes surface the absolute worst agenda-put the worst possible face on the person's motives-but I do it disarmingly. I might say, 'Fernando, I'm beginning to get a strange feeling. Is it all right if I talk about it?' He'll almost always say yes. 'I could be crazy as a loon, but I get the feeling that we're doing some kind of trade here, that you want something from me. Now you're probably going to tell me I've lost my marbles. In fact, I hope you do, because I sure wouldn't want to feel compromised by your generous gift.'
"At this point Fernando, no matter what his original motive, will probably fall all over himself to deny any base motives. Then I can say, 'I'm sure glad that's the case, Fernando, but could you, perhaps, tell me what were your motives?' Even if Fernando had the worst motives, at this point he would spruce them up. And the funny thing is, his motives will change following such a confrontation. He can't stand the cognitive dissonance. I've seen it work many times."
Paul Bubna would likewise swing the conversation: "Fernando, if you want to give me a gift, I have other gifts I'd appreciate more than money. I'm trying to win people's hearts to God, and you might be able to help. Would you be willing to make yourself available to serve the church in other ways?" At any rate, it is no favor to allow Fernando to continue comfortably in nominalism.
Colleagues: Competition vs. Conspiracy
Some people fear that physicians do such a good job covering for one another's mistakes that it nearly amounts to a conspiracy. On the other hand, it wouldn't seem particularly professional for them to be harping on the variant practices of another. How do you show professional courtesy to a colleague without necessarily covering for mistakes? This is what fellow pastors asked regarding Eddie Holmes.
When Eddie Holmes was ordained, they laid hands on a dynamo. Coming to a small-town church, he took the place by storm. His work days stretched to seventeen hours. Somebody need a call? He'd be there. Somebody need a ride to the city? Eddie would drive. The other pastors in town looked on him with a mixture of respect and incredulity. "He sees my parishioners in the hospital before I do," gulped one pastor, "and he led one to the Lord!"
Still, there was an odd side to Eddie. You couldn't depend on him to follow through on joint projects. He wrote a long, rambling letter to one pastor "rebuking" him for vague offenses. Then persistent rumors linked Eddie with an older widow, and later with a high school girl, and the sources seemed credible. Hints of instability caused fellow pastors to worry about Eddie's emotional health.
When a woman with teenage daughters writes the ministerial association to ask about a church of Eddie's denomination to join when she moves to town, how should they respond? What, if anything, should they say to Eddie?
"The woman is going to find out about Eddie sooner or later," Emma Richards reasoned, "so it's foolish to ignore the potential problem. I'd say, 'Yes, there is a church of your denomination in our town, and some of the other churches are … ' That's noncommittal, but it gets the point across."
Robert Oglesby would use a like method if he were convinced of the facts about Eddie. "I'd call the woman and ask if she's a good listener," he said. "Then I'd say, 'Listen very carefully. Eddie Holmes is a wonderful mixer with people and he gets along one-to-one very well, and that's what I have to say about his preaching.' I don't want to slander Eddie, but this way at least I've gotten the woman's attention."
Robert Thune feels as a shepherd he would have to warn the sheep if something were amiss. "I'd say, 'There might be some irregularities in that ministry, so I'd encourage you to go directly to Eddie.' "
What to say to Eddie? The panel was almost evenly split between approaching Eddie or leaving it to his friends or supervisor. It basically depended on their relationship with Eddie. As Paul Bubna said, "I'd have to earn the right to be heard as a friend with genuine concerns. Otherwise it would become a shooting match."
"There are no expendable people, and that means both Eddie and those he might expend through his lack of wisdom," said B. Edgar Johnson. "Someone who knows him and cares needs to intervene to help Eddie find balance. Is there a supervisor to whom he reports? That would be the key person."
Courtesy to one's predecessor and successor in a pastorate extends beyond matters of backbiting or malpractice. We asked our panel, "When can a pastor return to a prior pastorate to preach or perform weddings, funerals, or baptisms/dedications?"
Three said never. Their reason: "The new pastor can never adequately build an identity as leader if the former pastor always pops up," said Earl Schamehorn.
Six thought it okay "upon invitation or permission by the successor." Robert Thune elaborated: "If someone wants me to come back, I'll say, 'I'd love to, but I want you to ask your new pastor about it. If it's okay with him, have him invite me.' That way the pastor knows I'm respecting his turf."
Two felt good about returning at any time. "We're not engaged in some kind of competition," Don Finto explained. "If the present pastor has difficulty with my returning, then it's his problem. He doesn't have to 'establish himself'; the Lord establishes a pastor."
Confidentiality: Disclosure vs. Secrecy
"Of course what I told you is in strictest confidence!" Pastors' brains swim with privileged information, things they may tell no one. Refraining from gossip is one matter, but sometimes confidentiality puts a pastor in a bind, as Stan Brunner found.
Stan Brunner grew up in a mill town in Ohio, so he was used to labor unrest. But as pastor of a little community church in West Virginia, he found himself caught in the middle. On Sunday, Stan would see both the mill superintendent and the union chief sitting in his congregation. Stan was especially close to Walter, the superintendent, but he had warm regard for Jerry, the union man, too. And right now, the two could hardly speak to each other.
The company was laying off workers right before Christmas. Jerry was hopping mad, and Walter was under enormous pressure. Sitting in Stan's family room, Walter lamented, "Stan, nobody knows what I've done for my workers. Just between you and me, the company wants to close this operation! I've worked like a dog to retain any of the jobs around here, and yet I get pilloried for the reductions. To hear Jerry and the rest talk, I'm trying to break the union. Stan, I'm scrambling to save the plant!"
Later that week Stan had coffee with Jerry in the cafe by the works. "Stan," Jerry said, "I just don't understand Walter. Here he is, a fellow Christian-my brother in the Lord-and yet he's out to destroy all I've worked for. You can't count the number of men whose futures are being wrecked by that man. How can he do this to us?"
Is this a time for Stan to say what he knows?
No one in our group would counsel Stan to spill Walter's story. As Emma Richards put it, "He has a sacred trust, so he cannot confide what Walter told him in confidence. But with a little creativity, he can guide Jerry's thinking."
Don Finto would speak directly: "Jerry, I know Walter, just as I know you, and I can assure you Walter is walking in integrity. Please be very cautious in judging him. You may well not have all the evidence." That would be the start, according to Don, but then he'd want to "get them together to pray for one another and release each other from disagreement."
Harold Englund spoke about the bind Stan is in: "Both Walter and Jerry seem to want to co-opt Stan as an ally-'If you fully understand, you'll agree with me!' Stan's job is to be a moderator, not a mediator. Henry Kissinger tried to serve as a mediator through his shuttle diplomacy in the Middle East. Jimmy Carter moderated Sadat and Begin face to face at Camp David, and that worked. Stan should get Walter and Jerry together, because what they say to each other is more important than what either says to Stan."
In general, when can a pastor disregard the normal expectations of confidentiality? Seven panel members thought the trust should never be broken, although some would allow it in cases where legally required to do so. Four gave cautious and qualified permission to "leak" some information in cases in which another responsible party could help, and even then, permission of the first party should be sought.
Duane Litfin had a solo opinion: "Sometimes I'm legally, morally, and spiritually required to speak up. I make a point of never promising absolute confidentiality. When people say, 'Don't tell anyone what I'm going to say,' I probe their reasons. And I tell them, 'I have some existing commitments to uphold. For instance, I don't keep secrets from my wife. There are many things I choose not to tell her, but I don't want there to be anything I cannot tell her.' "
Paul Bubna leaned in this direction, too, although his vote went toward never divulging confidential information. "A pastor has to tell people on occasions that they ought not to expect him to respect confidentiality. In cases such as marital infidelity, I might say, 'Holding this information confidential puts me in an awkward position with your spouse. If you continue to see this other person, then I need to tell you I cannot remain a party to deceit. I'll need to talk to your spouse.' That makes our understanding clear."
Friendships: Special vs. Equal
"Come down, come down from your ivory tower" went the words to an old song. For at least a generation, pastors have been given the same counsel. Many swear that friendships have been their greatest lifesaver in ministry. And besides, friendships are fun. They can, however, cause problems.
From Erik Olson's first day in the new pastorate, Bill's boyish sense of humor had meshed with his own. Erik simply liked being with Bill, and Bill felt the same. Perhaps it was because both were reasonably new or both had come from blue-collar families and were now in an upper-class crowd. Whatever the reason, they became fast friends.
Many Sundays, Bill and Erik would take their families to the same restaurant after church. They played handball two mornings a week and managed to grab lunch together a couple of times a month. Last summer their families vacationed together at Bill's lake cabin. Erik could relax with Bill. When they were together, Bill wasn't a church member; he was just a good friend.
Bill was also deeply involved in the church. Recently he was named to the budget committee, whose duties included proposing pastoral salaries. Bill thought Erik deserved a significant raise, and was working to get it passed.
Not everybody appreciated the Erik-Bill friendship. One elder was overheard telling another, "Marsha and I would love to take the Olsons to lunch after church, but Bill has him booked up." A deacon was upset to learn that Erik was off on vacation with Bill just when his mother was in the hospital. An older couple had taken the previous pastor's family under their wing but were sad to find Erik's family either didn't need or want such special attention.
Erik's best alternative? Panel members were remarkably univocal: keep the friendship but lower the intensity and visibility. Some sample counsel:
Robert Thune: "Ministers need to be 'reach-out' people. Erik has to reach out to all the people. Even a simple touch can mean a lot. Then he can continue his friendship with Bill, but with more discretion."
Emma Richards: "Regularly going out in public with Bill for Sunday dinner is not wise. He shouldn't flaunt his friendship."
Harold Englund: "Bill's service on the budget committee adds problems. Erik could say to the board, 'Let's widen the budget process by bringing in outside expertise. I'm uncomfortable with Bill's bearing so much responsibility there. I don't think that's fair for him or the rest of us since he and I are close.' "
On the question of pastors' friends in general, eleven panelists felt close friendships within the congregation were "possible," "beneficial," or "necessary." Don Finto said that pastors are often too isolated, and without such friendships they are "potentially in danger because they have no personal accountability, no one to whom to say, 'I'm tempted; I'm feeling weak.' We have to defend in every way our need for friendships but go about them in a way that causes as little jealousy as possible."
Charles Farr stood alone in his uneasiness with friendships from within a congregation. "A pastor constantly has to 'unself' himself," he began. "Even at personal cost, it's best to keep close friendships outside the congregation. Sheep are sheep, and to have favorites is to jeopardize the rest of the flock."
General Principles
Wrestling with these common pastoral situations, ministers can come up with their own sets of responses. But it may be helpful to pass those decisions through one more ethical screen. These broad questions can be asked of any ethical decision:
Is this for the glory of God, or does it simply enhance my own self-interest? That first commandment to have no other gods is probably the toughest of the ten. We like to worship the one wearing our wingtips. Truthfully answering this question often means wading through a pool of our own rationalizations, but it's worth it.
Is this best for others, and will it render no harm? In Ephesians 5:21, Paul summarizes his section of how Christians ought to treat one another: "Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ." He goes on to use that principle as the basis for love in marriage. It's difficult in marriage and doubly difficult in a church, because in both arenas we run against conflicting wills. Yet as we look at Christ, we notice that his every decision was based on this principle: What is best for them?
Is this my best response, reflecting the highest of moral and ethical standards? In all likelihood, we can get away with much more than we should. We can get by with the least-acceptable standards-for a time.
In Charles Sheldon's classic, In His Steps, people decide to make their choices by what Jesus would do in the situation, and the results are radical. Measured against what Jesus would do, our little rationalizations and petty decisions look little and petty, as well they should. We can do worse than to ask, Is God receiving the best of me?
Does this decision hold up to public scrutiny? Is it something I'd be proud to let anyone know? This "bright-light principle" wards off shady dealings as a night light keeps monsters out of the nursery. How eager are we to autograph our decisions? Couples who live together before marriage know the awkwardness of divulging their living arrangements. Couples who are married return to the same address and bed with the full endorsement-even encouragement-of everyone. Any moral decision that can't be publicly proclaimed is probably worth a second thought.
Ethics-nobody can do it for us. Only we, with the power of the Holy Spirit, can chart our own ethical course and hold ourselves on it. The experiences and observations of others tell us where not to go, but the tiller is in each of our hands. How we steer makes the difference between shipwreck and delivering the goods at the final destination.
James D. Berkley is associate editor of LEADERSHIP.
Copyright © 1988 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
