By the time Greg Pacynski came to his third church, he was ready for major responsibility. He had proven himself in teen work and was now minister of Christian education at a large church in Birmingham. This put him in charge of all ministry to infants through college age.
High on the list as far as the church was concerned was the need to get the youth department under control. The recent years had seen a rapid turnover of youth pastors. Greg looked at the salary allocation for this post and thought he saw part of the problem already. But he determined to make do with what was authorized.
He and a search committee went to work. Their first choice was a graduate student who served well for six months but then left to pursue a doctorate.
The second youth pastor looked good on paper but soon revealed fatal flaws. Brian Lovell was stiff in front of a group; he almost seemed not to like kids. “I knew at the end of the first week we were in trouble,” says Greg, “and the church board was going to say, ‘Same old revolving door,’ before long.” When he tried to coach Brian, the man would nod agreement but then proceed on an opposite track. The youth group began to shrink precipitously. Brian’s quick explanation: lack of parental support.
Brian and Jolene lived only two blocks from Greg and Kara, and the two staff wives became close friends. Says Kara:
She became pregnant not long after they arrived, and I kind of took her under wing, helping her choose an obstetrician and get started making plans. We were back and forth for coffee a lot.
But as the trouble began to build at the church, I began to hear more and more sob stories. Our relationship went into a chill, because here I was the wife of her husband’s immediate boss! It was hard for me to support Greg sometimes. He’d come home, and I’d jump on him about what Jolene had said—only to find out there was more to the tale than I’d heard.
Within six months, Brian’s performance had come before the church board for discussion.
Unfortunately, the senior pastor was at that point locked in a serious power struggle with the board chairman. The two combatants, however, came to a rare consensus in this case: Brian was not cut out to be a youth pastor and ought to be terminated. The board concurred.
On a Tuesday, Greg gathered his courage and called Brian into his office to carry out the decision. It did not go well. Brian strongly objected, became angry, accused Greg and the church of misleading him, of not supporting him, of making him a scapegoat. Both men went home in knots.
The next day, Kara phoned her erstwhile friend to express her personal concern. Jolene spat out one sentence: “I just really think the whole thing is unfair, and I can’t talk about it now.” She hung up.
The following day, Kara tried again. This time she got a longer recitation of the Lovells’ case against the church. The conversation lasted maybe fifteen minutes but left the two women still at odds.
Greg and Kara felt badly enough as it was, but when he mentioned that the board had decided to hold a special meeting of teens and parents following the Sunday evening service to explain what had happened—and he would be the moderator—Kara began to worry.
I supported the decision to let Brian go; on that we were agreed. But drag it out in front of everybody in a public meeting? Something inside me said, Oh, no! That was just asking for trouble.
At the meeting of two hundred teens and parents, Kara sat in the back, fidgeting. Greg announced the subject for the night and then called on the senior pastor to make the official statement. The tension inside Kara began to throb; she couldn’t bear to stay. So she slipped out, collected her children from the nursery, and drove home praying.
Once the floor was opened for questions, a nasty scene ensued. Before it was over, charges and countercharges flew through the air. The matter became embroiled in the larger struggle going on in the church, and Greg found himself trying to referee a shouting match. The meeting attenders did not so much adjourn as simply retreat to let the air clear and count the wounded.
Late that night, Greg finally came through the front door of his home, a beaten man. He took one look at Kara. The words came out slowly: “We have a royal mess on our hands. This may be our Waterloo.” His wife’s misgivings about the public meeting had proved all too prescient. His attempts at playing church diplomat had come to ashes.
Kara resisted the urge to say, “I told you so.” By a week later, things had moderated considerably. The senior pastor had thought better of his outburst at the meeting and apologized. The chairman of the board, seeing that the pastor was recovering his base of support, resigned his post and left the church. As for Greg, his failure to stabilize the youth ministry up to now went undiscussed amid the larger fireworks.
His third choice as youth pastor ended up staying three years and doing a fine job with the teens. Upset parents gradually came back to affirm Greg’s leadership and the hard decision he had helped make. Greg and Kara breathed easier with every passing month.
Nevertheless, the husband’s role in this church skirmish ended up not only separating pastoral colleagues but costing the wife a friendship. This naturally made her question the judgments of her husband, his superiors, and the church. Kara managed to support Greg throughout, but not without pain.
I finally came to peace when I was willing to say, “God, you’ve put Greg in this place of leadership. He’s my husband. I’ll give input as it seems appropriate but leave the final decisions up to him, knowing I cannot protect him from hurt.”
To this day I am thankful for what that ordeal taught me.
Reflections
by Louis McBurneyThe stress of church politics is bound to come sooner or later in a ministry marriage. Thus, it is important to learn conflict management techniques ahead of time, how to get the opposing parties together, how to recognize and realize what’s happening on a feeling level with people, how to look at options and bring some resolution. We have to admit that simply praying together, good as that is, doesn’t always solve the problem. It can help a lot, but sometimes you need negotiation skills, too.
It would have been good if Brian Lovell could have been offered what the Alban Institute calls “outplacement service.” Rather than just approaching him punitively, it would have been good to offer some options and help him find a place to minister more comfortably.
When a person feels locked into a narrow interpretation of call, a lot of options fall by the wayside. I personally hold a very broad definition and try to help people see they can be centered in God’s will doing a lot of different things, even “secular” jobs.
The church world is sometimes terribly dishonest in this area. Young ministers tell me about being called into a meeting for this announcement: “Look—you’re not making it in this church. We won’t say anything public; we’ll just give you six months to find another church.” So the guy moves along with his problems!
We really can do much better in this area.
So often the minister’s wife feels isolated in a church. In a large church with a multiple staff, it’s good for wives to help and support one another. But in this case, it turned out to create a secondary problem.
Nevertheless, we must still recognize the need for friends. A lot of ministerial wives feel that’s dangerous; they’re even told in seminary, “Don’t get close to anybody; it only creates problems.” Actually, isolation creates as many problems as does friendship.
The friend doesn’t have to be somebody in the church body, if that would create a social or political problem. But a listening ear is essential.
Copyright © 1985 by Christianity Today
