Page 3609 – Christianity Today (2024)

Tom McKee

What aspect of your church’s youth ministry has cost you the most sleep?

I put this question to several pastors across the country, wanting to know what goes wrong most often. Some of the stories sounded familiar. Others were the stuff of which nightmares are made.

“It was the phone call from an irate parent after a boy with ‘punk orange’ hair sang a Steve Taylor song in church.”

“We had a bus wreck that put four of our high schoolers on the critical list in the hospital. One boy was paralyzed.”

“A young man was shot while two high school boys were hunting on a youth mission trip.”

“Our church is in the middle of a $5 million dollar lawsuit over an incident with a gun at one of our young-singles retreats.”

“I had to pull the plug on a music group performing in our sanctuary at an area youth rally.”

“We just fired our youth pastor. This is the fourth youth pastor we have let go in four years.”

“I had to explain to our board why our youth pastor had put a $2,000 dollar deposit on a retreat center for a youth camp and then canceled it because not enough people registered for the camp. We lost the $2,000.”

As I heard these stories, I was reminded of the best seller by Mark H. McCormack, What They Don’t Teach You at Harvard Business School. We could entitle this book Lessons We Didn’t Learn in Seminary. However, just because we have graduated from school we are not finished learning. The pastor must always be a student, eager to learn from those who struggle as well as those who are successful in the church. We develop our style of pastoring primarily from experience, not from books; from living in the church, not in libraries.

But lessons from experience can be costly, as the above war stories indicate. So what can we share with one another? The major problems of youth ministry seem to revolve around six headaches, which make up the following chapters of this book:

Headache One: Where do I find good volunteers to run an effective youth ministry? That issue is by far the key in any size church. If the pastor can find dynamic, successful youth sponsors to make up the youth team, the other problems usually fade away.

Headache Two: How do I keep workers from getting burned out, discouraged, or joining another church? As one pastor said, “I just get a great team recruited and trained, when some key people quit. Then I have to start all over again.”

Headache Three: How does the pastor of the small church build an effective youth ministry? Can you reach and hold teens without calling a salaried youth pastor?

Headache Four: Larger churches wonder how to find and keep a good youth pastor. The average stay is only eighteen months.1 Where does the pastor find an effective youth pastor for the amount of money the board will approve who will stay at least five years? Once the person arrives, how do the pastor and youth pastor work as a team and yet keep a line of accountability that is effective?

Headache Five: Vision and administration often do not mix. This tension means finding a balance between being nosey about every detail on the one hand and not showing any concern on the other. How does the pastor encourage the visionary and at the same time retain some control over the direction of the ministry?

Headache Six: How should the pastor handle parents, especially those who call upset about some of the youth activities or because their teens are not involved? Another great concern of the pastor is effective counseling ministry for hurting parents. Many of these parents are single, and the pastor often becomes a surrogate parent.

This book is not intended to be a youth ministry how-to. Instead, it deals with the relationship of the pastor and the youth program. I write as a pastor who spent almost fifteen years in youth ministry before taking my first senior pastorate. I have a great love for youth and am a parent of two teenage boys. Four years ago when we planted a new church, and I saw only three teens in the youth group, I was tempted to jump back into the role of youth pastor again—at the same time I was carrying the load of the pastorate. I realized, of course, that I could not do everything.

But I had to examine the role I should take with the youth as senior pastor. Now we have a youth pastor. Questions remain. What is my role now? I am learning how to deal with my concerns in ways other than direct involvement. From my talks with other pastors, many others struggle with this problem, also.

Paul Borthwick, “How to Keep a Youth Minister,” LEADERSHIP, Winter 1983, p. 75.

© 1986 Christianity Today

Garth Bolinder

It was the first time I’d ever been to Chautauqua, the historic conference center in western New York. As the congregation gathered in the open auditorium singing “Day Is Dying in the West,” I seemed to step back into an earlier era of revival fervor.

Much to my delight, the vespers service was to be a Messiah sing-along. I looked forward to singing to my heart’s content. Who cared if it was the middle of July?

My first dilemma was where to sit. I can’t sing quite high enough to be a decent tenor, yet my shovel isn’t big enough to dig out the deepest bass notes. So I sat exactly in the middle and sang whichever way the wind seemed to be blowing.

To my surprise, there were several others like me. There were even some who sang parts Handel never dreamed of. But we were all there to sing great music regardless.

No doubt many people around the world who have sung the Messiah have little, if any, saving faith in the One about whom they have sung. But the words proclaim his truth regardless of the condition of the singer (should I say sinner?). One such man was sitting next to me that night at Chautauqua. He made it clear before we started that he was an agnostic, but he loved to sing the Messiah. “Great music,” he said. “Speaks to everybody, regardless of belief.”

Indeed, I thought, that’s a perceptive statement. It’ll even preach. My reverie was broken by the grand overture of the Chautauqua pipe organ. As we began to sing, my companion really entered in. His entire body sang. Several times I thought the spring would break. After we sang the “Hallelujah Chorus,” he said, with the veins on his reddened neck still pulsating and a transparent glow on his face, “That’s enough to roll anybody’s socks up and down!”

Though I’d never heard it put quite that way, he had it right. Music reaches the depths of human personality in ways mere words never can. William Cowper said,

“Sometimes a light surprises
The Christian while he sings.”

If music is a primary vehicle for worship, it also aids and supplements the teaching and healing ministries of the church. Scripture gives ample example of this three-fold relationship. King David was a wise leader who knew the power, place, and peace of music. Everyone is familiar with his majestic psalms of adoration to God. They inspire worship. He even managed to sing and dance before the Lord and his troops as they prepared for or returned home from battle. Did MacArthur, Patton, or Ike ever try that?

Consider also, though, how David taught his people through the effective use of song. Many of his lyrics fairly drip with historical facts, political intrigue, and moral admonition. His songs, like modern-day slogans, etched truth into the minds of Israel. We feel their poignant power today.

Or what about David’s tender use of music in healing? Instead of angry rhetoric or hell-bent revenge, David took up his ancient lyre and actually played it to soothe the tormented mind and heart of his self-destructive adversary.

I don’t remember reading about such an event in the political arena of our day. But then, I can’t remember hearing of it during most church fights, either. Would strumming a few notes quench the darting flames of those “well-intentioned dragons?”

Teaching

Music can ingrain truth in the mind for a lifetime. Though usually thought of as applying only to children, this principle applies to adults as well. And the very same junior high students who wail, moan, and gnash their teeth when given a confirmation memory assignment can turn around and sing the latest popular songs word-perfect.

Almost all children sing Sunday school songs. In fact, almost all children sing, period. It’s as we get older that we become self-conscious, inhibited, and dull. Children burst with rhythm, melody, and rhyme. So Sunday school and junior church must have lots of music.

The thousands of Suzuki music students around the world testify to the fact that children can master more music than we estimate. Not only are they able immediately to integrate much of the biblical truth in the songs they sing, but great spiritual seeds are planted that will spring into life at a later date. My oldest daughter’s choir director is teaching her fourth- through sixth-graders a new hymn every month. This month it’s “Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise.” Imagine that! My earliest memory of that hymn goes back no further than college days. Then my third-grader wants to sing “The Church’s One Foundation” or “For All the Saints” or “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” on the way to school. I’d better learn all the verses.

In our media-saturated society, with wall-to-wall music each new day, these implanted hymns are spiritual dynamite. Edna Hong writes about such an experience in her book From This Good Ground: “For children, at least for this child [meaning herself], the Word of God received from the church in the home and the church in the community was like a time capsule that activates the spirit at some future date.… Even now, half a century later, the capsulated Word of God explodes in my mind and spirit, and a verse that shed no light for me or on me the first time I heard it—or the tenth—or the twentieth time! suddenly illuminates!”1

In our work with children’s choirs, we’ve found the following three principles to be strategic:

1.The church and especially the parents of choir children must be active supporters.

2.Choir should be fun. This may be controversial, because good music demands sacrifice. But few of us will commit to something that’s repeatedly boring. This is especially true in our channel-switching culture. Don’t get me wrong. These children work hard. But it’s all in the context of enjoying God’s good gift of music.

3.A children’s choir is to be educational, not performance-oriented.

Most any church can do this. With the deluge of children’s musicals available with taped accompaniment (at a Christian bookstore, or on loan from another church), a committed person can get together a small group of children and begin teaching songs. Even if the choir doesn’t grow into a massive chorale, the children are still learning eternal truths about the Christian faith and life.

They’re also learning about Christian community (“How come he gets the solo and not me?”).

They’re also learning music skills.

There’s one more benefit. The children’s and youth choirs become a “farm system” to feed the “majors,” that is, the adult choirs.

As David Wolper said in an interview about his production of the Los Angeles Olympic ceremonies, “We’re going to have lots of music, because music is the United States’s gift to the world.” Children and young people know this very well. So many of the children’s and youth musicals available today are upbeat. It’s natural for young people to sing them; memory becomes easier; and Christian truth is taught.

Healing

Kelly was a beautiful four-year-old girl. Her willowy hair and crystalline eyes caused people to turn and look when she was carried into a room. Kelly was severely retarded and a victim of cerebral palsy.

My wife worked as a governess to Kelly one summer, and we both fell in love with her. In the process of each day’s therapeutic routines, Dixie began to sit Kelly down at the piano and play and sing simple tunes to her. It was as if a peaceful spell came over the girl. If agitated, she calmed down. If distracted, she began to focus. If afraid, she began to trust again. Little by little, the gift of music began to soothe and sort her palsied mind.

It’s no wonder E. Thayer Gaston in the book Music in Therapy states that all music therapies agree on three primary principles. I list them with some added pastoral comments:

1.Music therapy helps to establish or re-establish interpersonal relationships (koinonia, Christian community; no wonder music has been central to God’s called-out people).

2.Music therapy helps bring about self-esteem. (We’re made in the image of God. Humanness was God’s chosen means through which to fully reveal himself.)

3.Music therapy helps utilize the unique potential of rhythm to energize and bring order. (“God is a God of order, not confusion,” writes Paul. The Christian faith and life are not chaotic and confusing. Rather, Christ makes all things new. “We are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us.”)

Though some Christians have explored this area (for example, singer Ken Medema’s work with handicapped children), much remains to be learned. We acknowledge the therapeutic value of music at weddings, funerals, and special events. But do we see each worship service, each choir rehearsal, each Sunday school class, each youth group song time as a means for the healing grace of Christ to be ministered to needy people?

This is what cross-country walker Peter Jenkins discovered at the Mount Zion Baptist Church in Smokey Hollow, Texana, North Carolina. The only white person in an all-black church and wearing what he described as a green neon suit, he felt rather self-conscious and alone. But as the service started and the singing warmed up, he felt a tide of spiritual healing flow through the two-hour service.

“Wave after wave washed through the church and washed the people clean. ‘A-man, A-man … A-man.'”

Then he writes about watching Pau Pau Oliver singing and shouting in the joy of the Lord. This occurred “when a member of the church was so unself-conscious and so immersed in worshiping God that he stood and began to sway and proclaim loudly, ‘Thank you, Jesus,’ with deep feeling and sincerity.… Leaving church wasn’t as easy as it was back in Connecticut, where everyone rushed home to eat or catch a football game on TV. On the way out with Zack, Bruce and Eric, I had to shake more hands than I had in years. I felt charged up for life, and here I thought us white folks held all the stock. I came to live for Sunday while I stayed in Texana.”

While the culture and styles may be different, what pastor doesn’t long for that unself-consciousness and immersion in worship that Peter experienced. What would we do if everyone in our congregations “lived for Sunday”? Music is a powerful agent of spiritual renewal.

Healing is its divine grace note. I need to see music ministry as integral to the life of any church I pastor or belong to. Music is a powerful means of evangelism, the healing of souls. A man who considered himself the most humanistic psychologist in our town came to personal faith in Jesus Christ not through some great preacher or apologist. He happened to slip into the back row of an evening church service and joined the congregation in singing “Alleluia.” During that familiar chorus, he realized his spiritual need, recognized the grace of Christ for the first time, and gave him his life. His wife, standing by his side, experienced the same thing. Music is a mighty witness.

Regardless of ability or taste, music can restore and renew any Christian’s dry and weary spirit. Be it radio, recorded, or live, music leads the way to the balm in Gilead.

If music can be an agent of healing, of course, it can also be an agent of destruction. I don’t intend to harangue on the evils of some modern music, but I do believe we must ask for discernment and discipline so our personal lives, families, and churches can experience the Lord’s restoration and renewal. True music, said Martin Luther, “is hateful to the devil and drives him away.”

Music is God’s glorious and gracious gift. Through it we worship, teach, heal, and fulfill the calling of Christ to minister. It is used in different ways at different times for very different people. The music ministry of your church is as valuable as that of any more visible church with whom you might be tempted to compare. Be encouraged! Music is a gift that’s always available. Its ministry in the church can always improve. That will be no more evident than when we one day hear music as it was intended to be.

I wasn’t there, but I’ve heard the story enough to imagine it. When Norm Johnson finally succumbed to the destructive advance of the fatal A.L.S., he spent his last days in a hospital bed in his living room. Family was near, and friends from church, community, and the music industry visited to encourage him and pray. His faithful wife, Lois, was constantly at his side. One evening, a few days before Christmas, he requested again to hear Handel’s Messiah. As the music enveloped the quiet living room, Norm entered into eternity.

I have often wondered what happened next. How did Norm respond to the Music he’d been waiting all his life to hear? How would he describe it to someone like me?

First I suppose he would digress to encourage me to keep working hard for solid music ministries. He’d remind me it’s a worthy goal. Then he’d probably tell me to appreciate what I have. But I imagine he’d also tell me, with a twinkle in his eye, to get ready. Because I haven’t heard anything yet!

Edna Hong, From This Good Ground (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1974), p. 70.

© 1986 Christianity Today

Garth Bolinder

My wife and I were seated high in the Minneapolis Civic Auditorium, where approximately seven thousand were celebrating our denomination’s centennial. Up front, four choirs were leading in worship. To demonstrate both diversity and unity in Christ, the choirs were from Hispanic, Korean, anglo, and black churches.

At one point the black choir from Oakdale Covenant Church in Chicago burst into a rousing anthem that asked everyone to “stand up and be a witness for Jesus.” Almost in unison, the entire centennial congregation stood, clapping and singing, to declare its solidarity as witnesses called of God.

Then the four choirs began to mingle in what seemed a chaos. To the pulpit came a pastor, who read the majestic words of Revelation 7, “After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude which no man could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and tongues, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits upon the throne, and to the Lamb!'”

Suddenly the combined multi-ethnic choir exploded in the mighty words of Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus.” Again the audience was on its feet. Some heads were bowed. Others were held high with hands outstretched. Radiant smiles were on faces and tears were in eyes. Hands were clasped as the entire company of believers joined in joyful, loving praise to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. It was an eternal moment that illustrated music’s incredible power, as Bach put it, to “glorify God and recreate the spirit.”

Purpose

When we reflect on the life of God’s people, both in Scripture and in church history, it is obvious that God loves music! From Jubal and his pipe and lyre in Genesis, through the musical hosts at the temple worship, through New Testament songs, hymns, and spiritual songs, to the heavenly choirs in Revelation, music has been at the center.

Though music has taken many forms and had many uses, worship has been its primary purpose. As Winfred Douglas said at the 1935 Hale Lectures at Seabury-Western Theological Seminary, “Worship is the primary and eternal activity of redeemed mankind.”

William Temple wrote, “To worship is to quicken the conscience by the holiness of God, to feed the mind with the truth of God, to purge the imagination by the beauty of God, to open the heart to the love of God, to devote the will to the purpose of God.”

According to Jesus, there is only one true object of worship: “You shall worship the Lord your God and him only shall you serve” (Matt. 4:10). Music is first and foremost a ministry of worship to God. It is a gift we bring to our heavenly Father. This radically affects the way we choose church music.

Several years ago, when living in New England, my children and I attended a concert by the Northeast Connecticut Concert Choir. My wife sang in that choir, as did several friends from our church. We sat next to a neighbor, a good friend, yet one who expressed little interest in Christianity.

The concert concluded with John Rutter’s magnificent “Gloria.” As the choir and orchestra blended voices and instruments in the words “Gloria, in excelsis Deo,” a transformation took place. No longer was this just a proper Sunday afternoon concert for the culturally interested (and those who would leave television football early). The music swept us heavenward. The audience was awestruck.

The explosive applause at the end was more spontaneous agreement than appreciation. My neighbor friend turned to me with tears in his eyes. I, the pastor, and he, the agnostic, embraced in wordless affirmation. Music had been the bridge from the senses to the soul.

God alone is worthy to be praised. We are made to worship. If we really believe this, music will be a prepared offering, not a spiritual pacifier. As Austin Lovelace and William Rice write in Music and Worship in the Church, “Our gifts to the God who created us, sent his Son to us, and guides us by his Holy Spirit should be worthy of acceptance. If this be true, our gifts should represent some cost to us. A shallow hymn, a sloppily sung anthem, are hardly fit gifts to bring as an offering to God, for they cost us little or nothing. If more work is required to sing a better hymn or to prepare a finer anthem, should we do less than our best to bring a ‘living sacrifice, holy and acceptable unto God, which is your spiritual worship?'”1

This attitude differs from our culture, which primarily sees music as a means of stimulating and/or soothing human emotion. It is largely feeling-oriented—which is too often our view of music in the church. The comments of several pastors I interviewed reflected this. A friend in Massachusetts felt music should prepare people for the message from the Word of God. Another pastor in Illinois commented that music should be contemporary in order to appeal to all types of people. Another spoke of the need to keep music plain so no one would be offended. A friend in California thinks music should “be exciting so people get excited about God.”

All these may be important, but they pale in significance if our primary purpose is to give glory to God. Music ministry is more than “emotion, commotion, and promotion.” From a trained, even paid, soloist singing a recitative from the Messiah, to a high school choir singing the latest contemporary Christian hit, to a young child singing “Jesus Loves Me” in the Sunday school Christmas program, the first priority of music ministry is singing unto the Lord. Any pastor, regardless of musical interest or ability, can encourage such a perspective in the church.

Lovelace and Rice offer the following criteria for worship music:

1. Does the music speak the feelings and thoughts of the true worshiper? Is it related to life itself?

2. Does the music express universal truths as well as individual emotions? Does the music help each individual to grow in Christian stature?

3. Does the music speak of eternal mysteries? Does the greatness of the music suggest the greater majesty of God?

4. Is the music creative in design and performance? Does it help make the time of worship one of new insights, new visions, and new approaches to God?

5. Have composer and performers assumed moral responsibility for creative integrity and excellence of craftsmanship in presenting the Word of God?2

I’ve found these questions important to ask, because they focus on why I do what I do. If I really believe, in Kierkegaard’s well-used words, that God is the audience in worship, then everything I do and direct should be pleasing and honoring to him. One doesn’t need to be a five-star chef to make sure the toast doesn’t burn. I don’t have to be an accomplished musician to make sure our musical offerings have integrity.

This positive attitude becomes contagious. I regularly get phone calls from soloists, youth choir directors, and even accompanists, asking if their choice of music (not only for Sunday mornings but Sunday evenings as well) is appropriate to the sermon theme or focus of the service. I’ve never insisted on such control. Rather, I think our folks are seeing the value of a clearly defined purpose in worship. They want to participate in harmony.

Planning

Of course, the more we plan, the more we want to plan. It takes work, but it’s well worth the effort.

Planning is hard work. People will always resist it, including pastors. Once Martin Luther’s friend and nemesis Andreas Carlstadt complained that it was unnecessary to spend time in music planning and hymn composition. He even objected to harmony, because there was only one faith, one Lord, one baptism.

To which Luther quipped, “Then Carlstadt should have only one eye, one ear, one foot, one knife, one coat, and one penny.”

We need only to read about the great festivals of the Old Testament to realize the significant preparation necessary for divine worship.

There are many ways to plan. We each have our own system of aiming at the future. I’ve found I need to have regular meetings with all those associated with our worship services. Not only do we have weekly general staff meetings where we evaluate, brainstorm, and plan, but each week I meet with the minister of music to compare calendars, share ideas, review services, and focus on the future. We try to keep thinking six months ahead. And, yes, I need to be held accountable for this.

Of the several structures one can use, the most common ones seem to be the Christian year, the preaching schedule, and special events. Some churches use a combination. I mention the Christian year because it has the longest history. Formalized since the fourth century, it provides a New Testament parallel to the Old Testament cycles of feasts and remembrances. Thus the entire year is divided into the great redemptive themes of Advent, Christmas, Epiphany (what a splendid word!), Lent, Easter, and Pentecost.

Some evangelical churches may find this “too liturgical.” Every tradition has its own liturgy, however. Even regular “sharing time” on Sunday nights is liturgical. So the question becomes “Why do we order our music and worship the way we do?”

Personally, I have a growing appreciation for the Christian year because it does, in Henri Nouwen’s words, “shape our personal stories into the One True Story. Usually, we try to shape His Story into ours.” So, even as I write these words, I’m reminded that the season is Pentecost, and I need the indwelling Spirit for guidance, creativity, and strength.

If you choose this method for worship planning, including music, the process becomes both ordered and exciting. Hymn selection, anthems, and special music are all influenced by the reason for the season. Within these guidelines, creativity emerges. Several years ago, during Advent, we used Sunday nights to walk through the Christian year. It was a novel experience for most of the congregation.

First we talked about the theme of redemption in the Old Testament and walked through the cycle of feasts and sacrifices, each one signifying a mighty divine intervention. We talked about the meaning of these events for the people of God. We even imagined their songs. Then we turned to the back of our hymnals and found the lectionary of seasons and Scriptures. We talked about the coming of the Messiah, the already and the not-yet. We sang Advent hymns about preparation and expectation. We read Scriptures of judgment and consolation, both Advent themes. We personalized the season, asking where we each needed to prepare the way for Messiah. Then we prayed, asking for a fresh divine visitation in our personal lives, our families, our jobs, our church, our community, our world.

It was marvelous! The services were simple. The hymnal was our primary aid. No gimmicks were needed, because the story spoke for itself. Everyone from youngest child to oldest adult became both storyteller and story receiver during that season.

Canon Michael Green says a distinctive characteristic of the early church was its incessant “babbling” of the gospel. The people couldn’t stop talking about Jesus. Ordering music and worship into the Christian year helps such holy and joyful babbling continue.

Another method of music planning revolves around preaching. As mentioned in the previous chapter, having a preaching schedule not only gives structure and security to the music minister but also helps the pastor plan and preach better. A preaching schedule insures that the preacher and musician are heading in the same direction. It guards against such ludicrous embarrassments as a sermon on temperance preceded by that lovely anthem “Ho! Everyone That Thirsteth.”

Every week our music minister and I spend about a half hour evaluating and planning, each with sermon schedule in hand. What a harmonizer this is. She has a starting place from which to select appropriate music, and I get a preview of “coming attractions.” Several weeks ago I found out Lois had chosen Tom Fettke’s beautiful anthem “The Majesty and Glory of Your Name” to coordinate with my sermon on Creation. Knowing that this anthem would complement my message gave me renewed inspiration and encouragement. With the music running through my mind, sermon preparation became worship. I could hardly wait for Sunday to come so I could hear both anthem and sermon (even if I was preaching).

Special events, holidays, and recognition days also provide structures for music planning. Like many pastors, Ray McGinnis, a Free Methodist minister in western New York, has a special independence theme every year on the Sunday closest to July 4. Patriotic music and symbols are tastefully integrated into the larger biblical theme of freedom in Christ. Every time I’ve worshiped in such a service, especially in a rural church, I’ve come away grateful for the privilege/responsibility of being a Christian in America in a needy world.

Planning gives purpose. Hymn selection becomes a meaningful exercise. Until several years ago, I relied on either my limited hymn knowledge or the suggestions of my music minister. Now I’m growing in my understanding and appreciation of hymnology. To do so is to realize that, while all hymns have some use, some have more use than others. Evangelicals seem to slide particularly toward hymns of sentiment rather than substance. We like hymns and choruses that speak about God or about our experience with him. Though the past decade has seen a renewal in praise choruses directed to God, I think there’s great room for improvement in hymn use.

There’s probably even room for more pastors to venture into the uncertain arena of hymn making. On several occasions I’ve written additional verses to hymns in order to tighten the connection with the theme of the sermon. I put such a verse in the bulletin, with no by-line. Hearing the entire congregation sing those new words gives me all the affirmation I’ll ever need. (Who knows, maybe they think I’ve uncovered a rare manuscript?)

Resources abound to help the pastor interested in hymnology. Anything by Eric Routley is most helpful. His Hymns and the Faith (Seabury Press, 1956) is an excellent introduction into wise selection and use. Also very useful are two books by James Sydnor, Hymns: A Congregational Study and Hymns and Their Uses, both published by Hope.

I’ve been fascinated to sit down with our hymnal and study its rich contents. The categories, Scripture references, even composers and dates add insight into hymn origin and use. For instance, it’s encouraging to remind the congregation of Fanny Crosby’s blindness before they sing “All the Way My Savior Leads Me.” To learn that Girolamo Savonarola, author of “Jesus, Refuge of the Weary,” eventually met a martyr’s death is to add deep meaning to the words of that fine Passion hymn. And what a surprise it is to realize that the author of “Come Ye Faithful, Raise the Strain” is none other than John of Damascus (A.D. 696-754). Imagine how he’d feel to hear his hymn used every Easter some twelve hundred years later.

But that’s the beauty of music ministry. To borrow a phrase, “it’s a gift that keeps on giving.” Creativity flows when music ministry is planned. I believe spontaneity is the result of planning rather than a haphazard jump. To wait for “any favorites” or “the Spirit to move” is to miss out on the creative discovery that comes through the discipline of preparation. This isn’t to dismiss those unplanned moments of elation that grace worship, but even Paul the apostle had to caution the Corinthian church that all spontaneity wasn’t necessarily spiritual.

This leads to the next area of music and worship.

Performance

We live in a performance-oriented culture. The better we impress people, the louder the applause. No wonder church musicians sometimes try to imitate those who impress people best.

Worship, however, seeks to honor God, not people. The more we understand this, the more authentic will be our music ministry. Here pastors can lead by encouragement and example.

Usually, at the beginning of the fall season I visit the choir at a rehearsal and thank them for their dedication. I remind them of their importance to the ministry of the church. From the very moment of entrance they are observed and emulated by the rest of the congregation.

I tell them of the first time I saw a Norm Johnson choir enter the sanctuary. Every member immediately bowed his or her head in genuine prayer. There was no looking around or talking to each other. Their entire posture suggested meditation and preparation. Most of the congregation bowed with them in humble expectation.

Performance, I tell them, is first to God. Therefore, all their hard work and sacrifice will be worth the effort. I even throw in a little C. S. Lewis opinion that it’s better to abolish all church music than to abolish the difficult work of a trained choir.

Then I pray for them at rehearsal and usually on the following Sunday morning in worship. How they perform! But it’s unto the Lord. And it’s contagious.

What about “special music”? First and foremost, it too is a musical offering. Almost every church has some people who have musical gifts. These good folks need to be encouraged and equipped. Working with the minister of music, pastors can formulate a policy that helps musicians lead worship. Selected well in advance, these people may need help in music choice, spiritual preparation, even appearance.

To sing or play well in corporate worship can be a part of one’s spiritual growth. I was interested in a recent quote by well-known conductor Lukas Foss: “If a performer feels he gains a sense of identity in a work, then he will want to play it again.” Apparently, the making of music especially unto the Lord can be both a pleasing offering and a powerful spiritual formation.

But a perennial question arises: Which is more important, the quality of the music or the intent of the person? Every church has people who feel convinced of a call to music ministry, while the rest of the church (including the pastor, at whose door the buck stops) feels otherwise.

There is no hard and fast rule, but if a final decision is needed, I put people over performance. While always striving for excellence and encouraging people to do the same, we need to realize that even the finest musical offering by the greatest musician is paltry to the Almighty. Do we dare presume we can add to his musical appreciation or impress him with our melodic expertise? To borrow an incarnation analogy from C. S. Lewis, slugs may make great music for other slugs, but most humans aren’t too impressed. God loves music, but his Son lived among, taught, healed, died, and rose again for people. Music is like any other ministry. It is people.

When author Madeleine L’Engle first started attending the village church near her Crosswicks country home in Connecticut, she found herself volunteering to organize and direct a long-dormant choir. She writes in A Circle of Quiet, “Some of them couldn’t stay in tune and pulled the whole group down into a flat, sodden mass. One woman stayed in key, all right, but at full volume at all times, and with an unpleasant, nasal whine. If the choir was to be a success, the obvious first thing to do was to ease out some of the problem voices.

“But I couldn’t do it. I don’t know why, but something told me that every single person in that choir was more important than the music. ‘But the music is going to be terrible,’ I wailed to this invisible voice. ‘That doesn’t matter. That’s not the reason for this choir.’ I didn’t ask what was, but struggled along. The extraordinary, lovely thing was that the music got to be pretty good, far better, I am now convinced, than it would have been if I’d put the music first and people second.”3

Purpose informs planning, which then shapes performance. If a pastor is so directed, the music ministry of the church will follow. When I smile and sing heartily during a hymn (rather than thumb through my sermon notes), the congregation sings much better. When I become absorbed in the choir anthem (instead of talking to an associate on the platform), I notice the congregation paying rapt attention. My public affirmation and integration of music ministry into the larger worship service pave the way for the congregation to follow.

But if the pastor helps shape music ministry, I’ve discovered an even greater miracle. Music ministry helps shape the pastor.

On a Sunday morning several years ago, all our choirs were singing together. They filled the platform and spilled into the aisles. I was hidden behind them, but I could see, in the midst of that sea of heads, the silken hair of my two daughters, Megan and Arwen, and my wife, Dixie. First Arwen’s choir, the youngest, started singing, “I love you, Lord, and I lift my voice, to worship you; O my soul, rejoice.”

Then the Good News Singers, Megan’s choir, joined in: “Take joy, my King, in what you hear; may it be a sweet, sweet sound in your ear.” The junior high and senior high choirs blended their voices.

Finally the adult choir entered this musical gift to God, and the entire congregation seemed transformed. There I was, the preoccupied pastor, completely hidden from view, while beautiful children and adults, including my own family, led me to the throne of grace.

With a trembling smile on his face, one very tired pastor caught a radiant glimpse of a heavenly worship yet to come. I knew right then that everything else would be preparation for that Day. And I can’t wait to face the music.

Austin Lovelace and William Rice, Music and Worship in the Church (Nashville: Abingdon, 1976), p. 24.

Lovelace and Rice, p. 28.

Madeleine L’Engle, A Circle of Quiet (New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1972), p. 35.

© 1986 Christianity Today

Garth Bolinder

I saw him coming. Like a runaway locomotive with steam billowing in all directions, he broke through the line of departing parishioners and screeched to a halt in front of me.

“What’s the idea of changing the closing hymn this morning without telling me?” he demanded in a fortissimo voice. “I work so hard to plan the music and coordinate the service, then you have the nerve to throw that clinker in at the last minute.”

“Clinker?” I responded weakly, trying to appear calm before the startled people around me. I was a young pastor; he was a talented musician. He was several years older than I, but we had never directly clashed before.

“That last hymn was a clinker! A terrible selection. The congregation couldn’t sing it. The organist couldn’t play it. And I didn’t like it. It didn’t fit at all. Never, never, do that again.”

He turned abruptly and strode off, leaving me stunned as I mumbled something about the stress of ministry to the curious bystanders still in the hallway. Fumbling my way to the refuge of my office, the blessing of the morning quickly faded. What began as bewilderment at the surprise attack turned rapidly to seething defensiveness.

Who does he think he is anyway? I thought angrily. I have a right to do what’s best for the worship service. After all, who’s in charge here? I don’t care if he has been at the church longer. Besides, that wasn’t such a bad hymn. We used to sing it in seminary chapel all the time. He should talk. The choir’s been eating into my preaching time the past seven Sundays, yet he still says we need two anthems. No wonder we get out late. Makes you wonder if a music ministry is worth it.

Sound familiar? Whether you sympathize with my self-righteous indignation or my musical colleague’s vocal frustration, you probably recognize the confrontation as fairly typical in the continuing duet between pastors and musicians. Though there are moments of sublime harmony, there are also times of painful dissonance as opinions, traditions, and egos clash.

Music has always been at the center of the worshiping community. It is one of God’s most glorious gifts, able to move people beyond the realm of mere words. Without doubt, music touches the eternal. But many times we find it the center of temporal turmoil, even among God’s people.

King David, that sweet singer of Israel, touched off controversy as he sang and danced the Ark of the Covenant into Jerusalem. We’ve all been tormented by self-appointed experts who regularly criticize the weekly choice of music. What pastor hasn’t felt anxiety rising as the offertory soloist labors through six verses while sermon time is being diminished note by note?

Who is to decide the proper role of music in the church? Most ministers of music will say the responsibility is theirs. Most pastors will remind you that they still lead the church. Ask the congregation, and you’ll get more opinions than Bach has cantatas.

Too often these conflicting attitudes and expectations can threaten the life of a local congregation. One pastor commented, “More churches have been split over worship styles, musical tastes, and service format than any other cause.”

Is he right? Must music be a continual battleground between musicians and pastors? I think not. There is a better way, but it’s not a quick formula to guarantee a spectacular music ministry.

Some congregations see music as a distant cousin to the “real” ministry of the church. And since they don’t want to take responsibility for integrating it into the essential ministry of the church, they say, “Let’s hire someone to do it for us.” They sign up a music minister to dress up the services. As a result, services—and often the ministry itself—become more performance than participation. The people tend to become critics rather than worshipers. The music director becomes a producer rather than a minister, and the gap between minister and congregation only widens.

The pastor is forced to side with the congregation or the minister of music. If he chooses the congregation, a staff member is alienated. If he sides with the music director, his own ministry becomes more vulnerable to criticism.

Neither approach is the solution.

I prefer the adagio, that slow, steady movement that brings a strong, balanced calm to a symphony—or a church. Pastors can bring this calm, balanced strength through hard work, patience, and the skill of a conductor. I’ve found the following principles are part of such a composition.

Minister to, Not Just through Musicians

The musicians I know are real people with real needs, just like the rest of the parishioners (and just like the pastor!).

I’ve had the privilege of working with three different ministers of music. They’ve differed in their ages, gender, training, and abilities. They’ve been part-time and full-time. At times their musical tastes have been very different from mine, but they’ve all shared one common trait: commitment.

Sensitive, sometimes fickle, maybe even demanding, most music ministers I know see their ministry as a distinct calling. Yet they often struggle with the same things that hinder pastors—insecurity, feelings of inadequacy, and exhaustion. They need someone they can trust. They need a pastor.

Years ago I had the privilege of working with Norman Johnson, past editor at Singspiration and minister of music at the Evangelical Covenant Church in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Norm had been at the church for many years; I was a rather green seminary graduate. To me, Norm was almost legendary. His reputation and presence kept me in a certain state of awe those early years. His ministry left an indelible mark on my life and ministry.

Yet, more than once I was sure the church wasn’t big enough for both of us. Fortunately, I learned an important lesson: Deep down, fame, ability, and commanding presence didn’t mean that much to Norm. Friendship did.

I’ll never forget several lunches we had at Norm’s request. At the time he had recently been diagnosed as having A.L.S., a dreaded disease, and he needed companions. Suddenly my order of worship and choice of hymns seemed no longer important. Norm’s heart was breaking. He needed a friend, someone who could listen. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “Christians have forgotten that the ministry of listening has been committed to them by the One who is Himself the great listener and whose work they should share. We should listen with the ears of God that we may speak the Word of God.”

I’m not sure if there was a song leader in that happy, calamitous band that traveled with Jesus, but if there was, I’m sure he knew he could share his burdens with his Master, whom he knew would listen.

I also suspect Jesus was more than willing to share a laugh with his disciples. More and more I’m convinced that ministry to colleagues means sharing glad times as well as struggles. Laughing together is a life-giving exercise.

Malcolm Muggeridge once commented that the steeple and the gargoyle of the medieval cathedral provide a healthy pattern for the Christian life, the steeple symbolizing the heart reaching for the infinite God in heaven while the laughing gargoyle reminds us of our earthbound limits. What a pattern for healthy co-ministry relationships! We needn’t take ourselves overseriously. Amid the urgency of our task, the joy of shared laughter can lighten heavy loads, calm ruffled feelings, refresh weary pilgrims, and renew an eternal perspective.

In our church, our staff will lunch together for any special occasion we can find. Practical jokes are a part of our normal week. Seasonal staff get-togethers are regular. Good relationships must be worked at, but the result is worth the effort. Mutual concern and joy are contagious. Our congregation is encouraged to see that its staff not only works well together but actually enjoys being together.

Listening and laughter are two gifts any pastor can offer. Musicians, like anyone else, care about ministry because they’ve received a ministry of care. Belonging is the foundation of all motivation.

Fix the End; Flex the Means

People tend to work better, certainly more enthusiastically, when you clearly establish the end but allow freedom to develop the means. As Peters and Waterman said in In Search of Excellence, people are motivated by a simultaneous need for both meaning and independence. Many times I’ve determined the meaning without allowing the corresponding independence to reach the end. Here again I learned a great lesson from Norman Johnson.

Like most seminary graduates, I approached my first parish keenly aware of the inadequacies of the church and the solutions for solving them. It was a rather arrogant ignorance with a spiritual veneer. So I would plan great moments for the congregation where our worship could finally be what God intended for us to experience. I took particular care to select hymns of substance, structure, and style. No gospel fluff for us. Unfortunately, I wasn’t aware of my rather limited knowledge of hymnody, nor of my ignorance of the tastes and abilities of the congregation. My wife, a music major in college, tried to alert me to such liabilities, but I thought pastor knew best.

Finally, Norm graciously reminded me that familiarity and singability weren’t sins. He worked with me to broaden my use of the hymnal, to be willing to incorporate hymns that may be less sophisticated, yet still to strive for excellence in worship. Gently I was reminded that he knew the territory better than I.

Not only have I found music ministers more knowledgeable than I, they are often more creative. I’ve learned to heed their creative ideas.

Several years ago during Advent, our minister of music, Lois Larson, decided to have the Christmas choir concert in our fellowship hall. She wanted people to invite unchurched friends who might not come to a church service but would come to a more intimate evening of music, hot cider, and cookies. Our fellowship hall, however, when tightly seated, has about one-third the capacity of our sanctuary. This would mean at least three performances with tickets to regulate the crowds. Inwardly I shuddered, “Welcome to the Covenant Cabaret!” All I could think about were the logistical and ecclesiastical headaches.

O me of little faith. It was a splendid evening! Our unchurched friends seemed to enjoy it most. Again the lesson came home: Allow freedom for individual gifts to be expressed and grow. But do it within the context of structure. Planning is the key.

The more we strategize, the better we harmonize. Thus, regular staff meetings are a must. Regular calendar review, both long- and short-range, anticipates seasons and special events before they spring up as surprises.

Is it possible to give the music minister my preaching schedule for the next six (how about three) months? It is, and I’m amazed how much this helps. The choir doesn’t have the pastoral luxury of waiting for last-minute inspiration to decide what to do on Sunday. They need weeks of rehearsal time. Musicians must plan ahead even if the pastor does not. Why not work together?

Such planning not only gives direction to the music ministry but also enhances corporate worship and probably makes for better preaching. It even eases the pastor’s Saturday night nerves.

Encourage Musicians to Grow

Professional development and spiritual growth are crucial to any ministry, including music. Unless the pastor personally encourages such growth, it might not happen. Such encouragement is both direct and indirect.

First, the direct. A former colleague, a minister of music/Christian education, was an outstanding organist. On any given Sunday, I would find myself, in Charles Wesley’s words, “lost in wonder, love, and praise” because of the glorious organ music that guided our worship. Regularly I thanked Glen for the hours he spent preparing and told him how much his ministry meant to me and to the congregation. He was successful in this area, and he needed to know it.

It’s easy to focus on areas of weakness, thinking that correcting faults will lead to better performance, but success is usually a more powerful motivator than failure. After affirming strengths, then we can strengthen weaknesses based on a firm foundation of accomplishment. Direct, honest encouragement pays rich dividends.

Encouragement can also be indirect. I’ve found I need to be an ally, sometimes even an advocate, for music ministry to the church board. I’ll push for increasing the budget so new music can be purchased regularly. I realize some feel the choir could still sing the old songs, but these same folks never want to hear the same sermon twice.

Freshness is part of encouraging creativity, and so I encourage musicians to improve their craft by attending seminars, workshops, and classes at the church’s expense. Why not provide money for subscriptions to professional journals and music libraries?

Then, if the musicians are paid, there’s the issue of salary. Here’s where the baton hits the podium. Are we willing to recommend quality raises at annual review time? We know what raises do for us. The song is the same for ministers of music.

One last form of encouragement: Pray with and for the musicians. Often we relate on a solely professional level. They need prayer as much as anyone. Don’t believe those who say there’s no business like show business. Ministering week by week to a media-blitzed congregation is tough. Tastes run from Amy Grant to Giovanni Gabrielli. Musicians feel the pressure and need to know they’re being prayerfully supported.

Dignify the Ministry of Music

To dignify the ministry of music, we must be willing to go public, to let the congregation know how valuable it is, to develop appreciation for the musicians. Corporate worship is prime time to affirm the work of musicians and ministers of music.

In our church, we offer a prayer of consecration at the beginning of each choir season. Regularly I refer to the anthems and solos (even to unsung accompanists) during worship. It’s one thing to say “Nice anthem last Sunday” as we pass each other in the hall. It’s something else to express it on Sunday morning from the pulpit.

Dare I mention applause? Always cautious to avoid the entertainment complex (after all, when will they ever clap after a sermon?), heartfelt applause out of adoration for God and appreciation for his gift of music can be a genuine form of public affirmation.

After being in my present church for about a year, I realized our minister of music had been faithfully serving for about eleven years. Technically only part-time, Lois had developed a splendid ministry, one that had a reputation perhaps larger than the church.

When I asked if the church had recognized her ten years of service, I received an embarrassed no. We went to work. A secret letter was sent to the congregation informing them of our surprise evening of recognition. That night, tributes were given. Then the lights went out. Suddenly Lois was flooded in a stream of light from the new spotlight the church purchased—something she had been wanting for five years. No more borrowing or renting.

The results were great. The congregation enjoyed showing public gratitude. Lois was thrilled, and the music ministry has become even better. Such is the value of giving the ministry of music the dignity it rightly deserves.

Even with all this, however, problems can still arise. I’ve found a need for at least one more principle.

Know When to Intervene

There are times in any organization when a part can run ahead or away from the rest. This can be true of music ministry in the church, usually the result of exuberance and enthusiasm. Rivers can overflow their banks; sometimes the pastor has to sandbag.

Knowing when to intervene is an art. It demands patience, wisdom, firmness, and love. Because people and situations are different, legal lists of what to do aren’t too helpful. Instead, I’ve found it helpful to try seeing the situation two ways: through objective and subjective relationships.

Objectively, I’m concerned with the relationship of music ministry to the larger ministry of the church. Subjectively, I’m concerned with my relationship to the minister of music. Both must be weighed to solve any problem successfully.

Several years ago our high school choir performed a Christmas musical. The music was good, and the choreography was illustrative and lively, except for one piece about Herod’s court. As I watched them practice, I kept waiting for John Travolta to strut down the aisle. It wasn’t tasteless or obscene, but I could envision trying to explain our rendition of Sunday Night Fever.

Of course, the choir loved it, so if I were to intervene, I would risk offending and alienating them.

Private intervention always being best, I decided to talk with Lois the next day. I said I wondered if some people might misunderstand the one number with its animated anatomical antics. She said she’d had the same concern. Because we both wanted what was best for the larger ministry of the church, we agreed on something that could have been a major conflict if either of us had had a narrower perspective. In this case, my intervention was timely and helpful.

Other times, however, intervention is a mistake. Early in my pastorate here in California, I decided to bring a different emphasis to Christmas. Instead of the annual Christmas Eve service the church was used to, I proposed a traditional Scandinavian Julotta service at 6 a.m. on Christmas Day.

My concerns were genuine but not well informed. Our minister of music was less than enthusiastic and pointed out that the Christmas Eve service was an opportunity for outreach; a 6 a.m. service probably was not. But I was adamant, so we went ahead and did it my way.

Frankly, the service was reasonably well attended, but it was dull and lifeless. I felt I was dragging everyone with me. I learned again that worship is corporate, not just individual. The pastor’s taste and prerogative is not enough of a foundation on which to build.

Admitting that I misread the congregation and its needs has strengthened both my relationships and leadership within the church. Wise intervention by the pastor is occasionally needed in the continuing duet with the minister of music. The ability to admit unwise interventions is also a necessity.

Late one evening a number of years ago, I happened to walk into Norm Johnson’s office as he was working on a new choir arrangement. I watched his intensity. Discarded first, second, third, and fourth drafts of the score he was trying to compose were scattered across the room.

“So this is how they make music, huh?” I commented, interrupting his concentration.

“The music,” he said, “comes from the Chief Musician. I’m just trying to find it, and hard work is the only way I know.”

Hard work indeed! So is the sustaining of music in the life of the church. The continuing improvisation between pastors and musicians will keep on going. Simplistic solutions are not to be found. But it’s better to strive for a duet, not a duel in our service for the kingdom.

© 1986 Christianity Today

Garth Bolinder

It is easy for a pastor to be intimidated by the jargon and artistic flair of musicians. Nevertheless, every pastor must be aware that the key to music’s effectiveness in the church is still in his hand. Music can have, indeed must have, a place in the larger ministry of the church. In a culture bombarded with musical sounds around the clock, it is crucial that pastors develop a clear perspective.

But this creates a dilemma for the overbusy minister. As Samuel A. Devan writes, the pastor “…is expected to combine the financial acumen of John D. Rockefeller, the spiritual fervor of St. Bernard of Clairvaux, the scholarship of Spenger, the organizing ability of a German bureaucrat, the aggressiveness of Napoleon, the smoothness of a politician, the tenderness of a parent, the magnetism of Lloyd George, the manners of Chesterfield, with the literary force of St. Paul, and the evangelistic impetus of John Wesley. It is hardly to be wondered at if occasionally some individual falls a little short of expectations in some of these particulars.”1

And he didn’t even mention music! What’s a pastor to do? How can we find time and energy to add yet another area of expertise to our load? I’ve found the following three principles most helpful.

Take a Personal Inventory

The starting point is a personal evaluation of one’s own perspective on music ministry.

Several years ago a young man came up to me and said, “When are we going to sing some ‘Spirit-filled’ songs on Sunday evening?”

When I asked him what he meant (I thought I already knew), he responded, “Well, I was thinking of some of the new praise choruses. They’re the ones the Lord’s using today.”

Indeed! Give me a praise chorus anytime. Sing them over again to me. But don’t forget to throw in some great hymns of the church. Then there’s the Gloria Patri or the Kyrie eleison. An antiphon or two wouldn’t hurt. And what about a Gregorian chant? Just what is the Lord using today, anyway?

Early in my ministry I probably would have enthusiastically agreed with my young friend. Since my own musical tastes were rather limited, it was only natural to use what “felt” good to me. Besides, those new choruses were upbeat, exciting, and they even sounded like some popular songs on the radio. Let’s get relevant, anyway.

In seminary I learned precious little on church music. Though the trend seems to be changing now, few seminaries offered much in the field—especially evangelical schools, because of their proper concern for biblical truth. When I asked some pastoral colleagues how much they knew about the development of music in the church, they gave telling responses:

“I never thought about it before.”

“I had enough trouble with church history. Besides, I can’t sing very well.”

“I let my music minister worry about that sort of thing.”

“You mean they haven’t always sung the Doxology after the offering?”

Those responses are probably typical for most of us. When it comes to music ministry, we don’t know where we’ve come from and we may not know where we’re going. We just know there has to be something better.

I began to realize the importance of pastoral leadership when I was asked about my philosophy of music ministry. My what? It was then pointed out to me that I was in a rut. That was the beginning of my personal evaluation. It led to a personal growth that is still continuing.

Personal evaluation begins with a series of questions. Though there is no system for grading answers, they help clarify our own personal perspective on music and its ministry in the church.

What styles of music do you most enjoy? When you listen to music at home, in the study or the car, what kinds are most common?

If you choose the hymns for worship, what is your criteria for selection?

If you do not choose the worship hymns, why not?

Do you keep a record of hymn usage in worship? What does the record indicate about your preference?

How many unfamiliar hymns has your congregation sung in the past year?

How well do you know the hymnal you use? Do you study its hymns, their meaning and use?

How often do you meet with your minister of music or choir director, accompanists and/or other musicians and soloists to plan, share your ideas, get theirs, and discuss the direction of the music ministry?

What is your personal church tradition? Are you from a liturgical background, emphasizing more ordered worship, classical music and restrained dignity? Or have you grown up with nonstructured worship, spontaneous songs and choruses (some composed right on the spot), and enthusiastic emotional release? Are you somewhere in the middle?

Think back to times when you have been deeply moved and ministered to by music. What caused this? Was it the music, the musician, the setting, or your own personal involvement and response?

What is your musical experience and/or training?

How important is music to your family, particularly your spouse? What are their tastes?

Honest answers to the above questions will help us get a handle on the opinions, circ*mstances, and pressures that shape our current perspective on music ministry.

During my first few years in the pastorate, I seemed to choose the ancient Irish hymn “Be Thou My Vision” almost every other month. It’s a great hymn—but we were singing it into the ground. My wife finally pointed out what was happening, and I began to analyze why.

I remembered the first time I heard that beautiful song. I was in seminary and was going through some severe doubts about my call to ministry and my ability to be of any value if I was called. I struggled with this for several months. (Maybe taking Hebrew had something to do with my malaise; I don’t know.)

One morning in seminary chapel, we closed with “Be Thou My Vision.” As we sang that lilting Irish melody, I felt the clouds of depression break and a brilliant ray of hope break through. It was as if Jesus was ministering directly to me, using that hymn to heal me of my preoccupation with my own failure. In that very personal moment, my vision was restored and refocused on the goodness, sufficiency, and love of the Lord.

But that doesn’t mean that I should have expected the same of my congregation, especially every other month!

Understanding the subtle yet powerful influence of our own limited personal perspective is a fundamental first step to getting our musical bearings. Next comes an evaluation of our congregation.

Don’t Get Trapped

No two churches are alike. Regardless of proximity or denominational affiliation, they illustrate that God the Creator delights in diversity. Thus, there’s no such thing as “Ninety-nine Sure-fire Methods to Guarantee a Successful Music Ministry or Your Money Back.” Your congregation is unique, which can be either a blessing or a curse depending largely on your attitude.

Here are some pits I’ve fallen into and climbed back out of along the way:

1. Unfairly comparing our music ministry with those of other churches. I said unfairly, because we all compare to some degree. But woe to us if we fall into the trap of thinking our churches are inferior if we don’t have the music that packs’em in at the church across town.

2. Running ahead of the congregation’s ability to grow. Let’s be honest: Pastors are called to dream great dreams, to hear great themes. But if we run too fast and push too hard, we may find ourselves leading a lot of singing and singing a lot of solos (much to our chagrin and the church’s).

3. Settling for less than excellence. I didn’t say less than perfection. Perfectionism is a hobgoblin of creativity. But excellence should always be a personal and corporate value. Holy shoddiness is still shoddy. As the apostle Paul concluded his instructions on music ministry to the church at Colossae, he exhorted, “Whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him” (3:17).

Several years ago I managed to fall into all three of these pits in one horrendous Sunday evening service. I had decided our music was dull. Even though we tried for variety, each week seemed to deepen my felt rut. Perhaps it was because we had a fair number of faithful elderly people at that service. Perhaps I was the problem. I really didn’t know what the source was, but I was determined to do something about it.

After all, why couldn’t we be like those really alive churches with their uninhibited exuberance and excitement? I’d heard they played and sang for hours, and nobody seemed to mind. In fact, people swarmed to their services, especially young people.

So we changed things that night. No more old hymns; only choruses. The guitars and bass seemed to help. But I knew something was wrong when I asked the congregation to link arms and sway as we sang. I could see on their faces they really weren’t too thrilled about acting out their oneness in Christ. They’d be content just to sit and sing quietly about it, then go live it out (which they did) during the week.

My attempt to be upbeat and relevant turned out to be tacky and embarrassing. I had unfairly compared our music to “theirs.” I had grossly outrun the ability of those fine people to change and grow. I had settled for enthusiasm over excellence. It was a rousing failure.

Still, I believe it’s better to attempt something great and fail than to attempt nothing and succeed. For every musical success there are scores of missed notes, discarded manuscripts, and bungled refrains. As any musician (and pastor!) knows, practice and perseverance are great virtues.

Keep Looking for Buried Treasure

Some pits turn into gold mines. Every church has musical assets. Here are some ways to find them:

1. Probe your minister of music or volunteer leader for his/her personal philosophy of music in the church. Find out the history of music in this congregation. What’s been done before? What are we trying to do today? The majority of churches have part-time music ministers, many of whom are faithful and have probably been at the church longer than the pastor. Regardless of their musical abilities, find out what makes them tick. You’ll not only learn about them, you’ll learn about the church as well.

2. Take a look at your choir music library. This will give you an idea of what the church is used to hearing. It will also reveal the taste of your minister of music and his or her predecessors.

3. Do an inventory of instruments in the church (unless, of course, your tradition does not use them). Find out their condition. What is available besides organ and piano?

4. Make a list of all possible musicians in the church. Who are the soloists? Who should be a soloist but isn’t? Who is a soloist but shouldn’t be? Who plays what instruments? What are the special groups that sing or play? Don’t assume that all the musicians have already surfaced.

One newer member of our church is a young mother who has a fine voice and communicates a beautiful radiance when she sings. Yet she told our minister of music she never sang in a previous church. Why? Probably because nobody took the time to develop a musical talent/gift list and then use it.

5. Pay special attention to accompanists. These dedicated people are usually hidden behind a keyboard. They help the soloists; they support the congregation; but rarely do they get much attention until they hit a wrong note. Get to know them, encourage them, and find more people to help them. Don’t be afraid to pay them. When music purchases and practice times are figured in, most accompanists are excellent bargains.

6. Look at your music budget and see if it is realistic. Music material costs are up. Seminars and workshops aren’t free. Choir robes need to be cleaned and/or replaced. There’s no such thing as discount music ministry.

7. Study the musical climate of your community. Evaluating this can help you better understand congregational opinions and expectations.

8. Begin where you are and grow from there! Both covetous yearning and self-satisfied complacency lead in the same direction: inertia. If the music ministry of your church is going to grow, the pastor must be committed to helping it happen.

One of the steps I’ve taken to expand my comprehension is to do a topical word study on music in the Bible. The usage and meaning of such terms as music, singing, singers, songs, instruments, psalms, and choirs stretched my awareness of the centrality of music in the story of God’s people.

Among the books on music ministry, I recommend Jubilate! Church Music in the Evangelical Tradition by Donald P. Hustad.2 This well-written book provides historical survey, biblical foundations, contemporary music ministry suggestions, and resources for further study.

I’ve also been challenged simply by listening to other people talk about music—their feelings, likes and dislikes, dreams and desires. I’ve dug into hymnology using the companion volumes some publishers provide that give short histories of hymns, their composers, and ways to utilize hymns for the good of the church. Naturally, the more I utilize the topical headings of our church’s hymnal, the more my choices are purposeful and informed.

You don’t have a minister of music? Don’t give up—there’s hope. Somewhere is a person who can lead your church in this area. Some churches go outside the membership to recruit a music leader. This means providing a salary, even if the work requires only a few hours per week. Such a person usually has some musical background and/or training and can direct the choir, assist in worship leading, maybe even play an instrument. If this person works closely with the pastor, music ministry can thrive.

But many churches may not be able to afford a hired music minister. What then?

Start looking within the congregation. A treasure may be waiting to be discovered. Our experience is an encouraging example of God’s delightful provision. A little more than ten years ago, Modesto Covenant Church had a struggling choir of about twelve and no one to lead them. Music ministry was a faint diminuendo.

Furthermore, the church was between pastors. However, the retired interim pastor, Rev. C. D. Anderson, saw the need and decided to do something about it. He began to pray for a music minister. He asked several others to pray with him. After a time he decided to ask a rather new member, Lois Larson, if she would be interested.

Though she was a fine soloist with vocal training, she refused, pleading no experience in choral work.

The interim pastor went back to prayer. The more he prayed, the more convinced he became that Lois was the person for the job. He asked again and again. Now both Lois and her husband were praying. Was this a call from the Lord?

Eventually, she accepted the position on a temporary basis. As Lois tells the story, she was so nervous at the first rehearsal she had to stop in the middle because she was sure she was going to faint.

What happened to this tentative, nervous, temporary music minister? Today she directs a music ministry bursting at the seams. The adult choir has seventy committed singers. Excellent soloists, duets, trios, and quartets of every voice lead in worship Sunday after Sunday. Accompanists abound. Lois coordinates a musicale series each year that brings outstanding artists to the church, magnifying our outreach into the community. Perhaps most significant are the children’s and youth choirs Lois oversees. Almost two hundred people from first grade through young adult meet weekly to sing, learn, and worship.

This wonderful story needn’t be unique. The splendid music ministry we enjoy can be duplicated in churches everywhere, regardless of size. A supportive congregation led by a praying pastor committed to music ministry can find and nurture a music minister who will bless both congregation and community.

Martin Luther once said, “We must, of necessity, maintain music in schools. Neither should we ordain young fellows to the office of preaching except they have been well-exercised and practiced in the field of music.”

Luther realized the mighty power of music in the ministry of the gospel. He knew that pastors hold the key to effective music in the churches. His attitude of appreciating and encouraging music may have had as much impact on the Reformation as did his theology. It was certainly evident in the life of a certain music minister in Leipzig.

Music historians tell us that curious letters can be found on many Bach manuscripts: “J.J.” for Jesu juva (“Jesus, help me”) at the beginning, and “S.D.G.” for Soli Deo gloria (“To God alone be the glory”) at the end. In between lies all music ministry.

Throughout his life Bach had to contend with pastors, most of them antagonistic. Imagine what would have happened if they had been supportive.

With Jesus as our Helper, our music ministry can continue to grow so God alone will get the glory.

Austin Lovelace and William Rice, Music and Worship in the Church (Nashville: Abingdon, 1976) p. 30.

Carol Stream, Ill.: Hope, 1981.

© 1986 Christianity Today

Garth Bolinder

The church board meeting was going long into the night. Fatigue and frustration were raising tempers to the boiling point. Finally, one rather rotund gentleman rose to his feet in red-faced exasperation.

“How long do we have to put up with this nonsense?” he demanded as his fist pounded the long oak table with a resounding thud. “We’ve tried and tried to be cooperative, but he just won’t listen. Let’s face it. He’s impossible, and his music is even worse.”

“Well, I think we ought to give him a chance,” responded the thoughtful-looking gentleman in the corner. “At least he’s concerned that worship be …”

“And what do you know about worship?” snorted the first man, his bulbous nose pulsating. “You’re new here. You don’t know how things are done.”

“My wife says he’s too demanding with the children. She says the kids don’t even want to go to Junior Choir anymore,” chirped a bespectacled man in a long coat.

“If he’d just play some of the old familiar hymns once in a while. Those new tunes are so difficult to sing. When he gets going on that instrument, it seems like he’s in another world.”

“Well, what do we do?” asked the chairman, trying to keep a semblance of order.

“My wife thinks he should have the decency to leave on his own accord, for the sake of the children.”

“He oughta be fired,” challenged the rotund one.

“We can’t. He’s under contract,” the chairman interjected.

“Then let’s send him a written ultimatum that tells him in no uncertain terms he’s under probation. He either gets with our program or he’s out. Don’t you agree, Pastor?”

Now we don’t know if the board meeting actually happened like that, but we do know a stern letter was sent through Dr. Deyling to the music minister. It was dated February 16, 1730. The recipient was a hard-working musician employed by a local church in Leipzig. His name? Johann Sebastian Bach.

Today it seems ludicrous to imagine J. S. Bach creating a stir with his contemporary Christian music. He’s considered to be classical and “long hair.” Many hail him as the greatest musician who ever lived.

Does not this ruckus illustrate the dilemma of the wedding of music and the church? Often they can’t seem to live together, but certainly they can’t live apart. Anyone in pastoral ministry has felt the tension of this holy alliance. We’ve soared to glorious heights at the Christmas cantata and sunk beneath the depths when the phone began ringing the next week. Somewhere between musicians and congregation, between heavenly aspiration and earthly reality stands the pastor. Whether in a small church with all volunteer musicians, or overseeing a miniconservatory in a megachurch, pastors are the catalysts for the music ministry. If music is going to thrive, it must begin with us.

You may be an accomplished musician, able to sight-read, vocalize, and arrange with the best. Or you may be at the other end of the scale, the only instrument you play being the radio. Your church may have an acclaimed music program, or it may leave much to be desired. As your choir sings every Sunday you may exclaim, “Now that’s music!” Or you may mutter under your breath, “That’s music?”

I don’t claim to be a great musician. I write as a pastor. But I do love music. It lifts me, instructs me, soothes me, and even heals me in my journey Homeward. As I better understand its ministry, my appreciation grows. The church I serve doesn’t claim musical superiority. But we are continually discovering its beauty, simplicity, and power.

What follows, then, is a plainsong on the joys and trials of music ministry. You’re invited to join in. Seeking to improve our respective ministries is a worthy pursuit. For since the morning stars sang together, music ministry has been here to stay.

© 1986 Christianity Today

The Rewards of Leadership

In every significant event, there has been a bold leader, an object or purpose, and an adversary.

Leadership is most often the means God chooses to fulfill his purpose. When God wants something done, he turns to an individual—Moses, Paul, Luther, Wilberforce, Moody, Mother Teresa—name them. Great things rarely get done by consensus. According to the organizational axiom, “Power is always personal.”

Interestingly, the persons God picks as leaders aren’t always the ones we would have picked. His leaders would not always have been elected. In a democracy, I doubt the apostle Paul would have made it. Leaders must be willing to be lonely.

Albert Schweitzer, for instance, gave up a prosperous musical, medical, and academic career in an affluent society to obey the verse of Scripture “If any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.” He went to the Congo and spent the rest of his life developing a hospital at Lambaréné. Norman Cousins tells the story of visiting him, and as the canoe neared shore, Schweitzer waded out to meet him. Then he grabbed Cousins’s luggage and started carrying it up the hill. Cousins, much younger than Schweitzer, protested that he could carry his own bag.

Schweitzer turned and said, “Young man, in Lambaréné I am the leader, and I hope I will not find you difficult.”

Schweitzer, no doubt, faced days of loneliness. But leaders are sustained by knowing that they are part of something greater than themselves.

God works through leaders who accept the responsibility. Often leading is hard work, but it also awards some profound benefits. I often say, “If the president and the janitor drew the same pay, I’d still want to be the president.” What are some of these substantial benefits of being a leader?

Personal Development

One of the high points of the last couple of years for me was meeting with Ray Stedman and about fifteen top preachers in the United States to discuss how to encourage effective expository preaching.

During one lunch, I was moved most deeply. Stephen Olford said, “My brothers, I am weary of celebrity religion. I have had my share of recognition, but if when I die my family doesn’t say, ‘There was something of the Spirit of the Lord in that man,’ I have failed.” A solid, spontaneous amen rose around that table.

These leaders had developed the process that turns knowledge into wisdom. I realized again that the greatest leaders do not try to impress, but their commitment to the Lord and their leadership positions combines to develop maturity. Leadership requires maturity; it also helps to produce it. This is a reward of leadership.

For those who have the talent to lead, leadership is a great self-fulfillment. I don’t know of anything more frustrating than for such a person not to have the opportunity to lead. Can you imagine the frustration of a Rubenstein if he never touched a Steinway?

Leaders come to the satisfaction, if they’ve used their talents well, of knowing they have run the race, finished the course, and become what they ought to have become. They will be commended by the Lord as much for their character as their specific accomplishments.

Developing Persons

Beyond self-fulfillment, leadership offers a chance to see others fulfilled. Leaders help people see what they ought to be and accomplish what they ought to accomplish. This is why vision is so important. Leaders have that ability to see what others can’t see and to believe, before others believe, that it can be accomplished.

Many people differ in their evaluation of my friend Robert Schuller—but you have to admit he has supreme vision. You have to marvel that a young man preaching in a drive-in theater with a portable organ played by his wife could envision the Crystal Cathedral and raise it into reality. Without his leadership, it would never have happened. He gave people that great sense of accomplishment, of fulfillment, being part of something significant. Like baseball player Bobby Richardson once said, “When you put on those Yankee pinstripes, you play better.” In a sense, that’s what leadership does. It helps people accomplish what they would not have accomplished otherwise.

I will always be indebted to Maxey Jarman. He was my leader for the forty-three years I worked for him and with him. I’ll never lose the feeling of accomplishment, the valuable experiences, the lessons I learned from him. I am a better man, better equipped to help others, for the years I spent with him. That’s a normal feeling followers have toward a capable leader. I hope I’ve passed that experience on to those responsible to me.

Productive, Not Happy

I wrote myself a note the other day criticizing my compulsion to be productive. At my age, why can’t I just be happy with who I am, with no concern about my productivity?

As I was writing how much better it is to be happy than productive, however, I realized that’s impossible for a leader. Happiness and productivity are concomitant for a leader.

The more I thought about it, I saw that a desire to be happy and content with yourself is basically selfish. Perhaps not an evil selfishness, but certainly self-oriented. A desire to be productive, however, is not selfish. It is a desire to do something of value in which others share.

To me, much of the reward of leadership is simply the sense of being productive, producing something through others and for others that would not have been produced if the effort had not been expended.

By the time I finished my note, I had concluded, “Leaders would rather be productive than happy.” (Sometimes writing, like preaching, most affects the one doing it.)

Ironically, productivity is not the same as doing. Leaders are often most productive when they are not doing. Sometimes their most significant work is instilling vision and excitement in others, having thoughts worth passing on—which often happens best in seemingly casual settings.

Whenever I teach a class, for instance, I feel it’s my responsibility to communicate my availability to help people. I seldom say it directly, but the message gets across. I might slip in a comment such as “I had a wonderful time last week. Somebody called me, and we chatted for an hour over the phone about a decision he had to make.” Or, “I talked with a confused woman today who needed my ancient experience.” Well, those are invitations. Or perhaps I’ll mention a particular issue and say, “I’d love to explore this topic in depth with you sometime.”

Recently a doctor and his wife called and said, “Were you serious when you said you were willing to talk about this?”

“Yes I was,” I said. So they invited Mary Alice and me to their home for dinner.

When we got there, we were delighted to meet three other couples they’d asked to join the conversation. They all had notebooks and pencils, and we had a serious, productive discussion. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Like the blessing of a teacher who comes across a genuine student, leaders sometimes find other individuals who share their passion. You don’t find many people like that, but when you do, it is a rich reward.

A Vicarious Thrill

Some leaders are visible and receive acclaim for their work. Often, however, leaders find their best reward within. Few leaders can stay motivated unless they’ve learned to appreciate the vicarious thrill of seeing others succeed.

Conversely, some of the greatest leaders I’ve known have also had friends who vicariously shared their accomplishment—those quiet people who pray fervently with Billy Graham. I heard about one man who came to see Mark Hatfield when he was governor of Oregon. The man said, “Governor, I haven’t anything to ask. I simply want to pray with you.” He got down beside the desk and prayed with the governor.

A worthy goal for an aging leader is to learn to give up the power, the day-to-day responsibility, and become a shepherd of shepherds. The point is not to usurp positions but to mentor younger people and simply say, “I’m available.” The task is not to impose advice (because advice imposed is not advice but an order), but to suggest options and help clarify the other person’s thinking.

I thoroughly enjoy working with younger people. I love to throw these young tigers some meat and watch them tear into it. I would imagine any leader must have that same sense of enjoying watching others develop and do well.

“God’s Person in God’s Place”

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, leaders are rewarded by knowing they are where God wants them … with a task great or small.

Mother Teresa leads in a quiet way. She is not overcome that she is making hardly a dent in the problem of poverty and suffering in India. She simply remains faithful. The hundreds she touches can’t compare to the thousands who are dying, but she isn’t discouraged. Her one candle is better than total darkness. She is fulfilling her calling.

Many years ago, my friend Torrey Johnson sent me his picture, inscribed with a message. I never felt I could hang it on my wall, but I occasionally get it out of the closet to read the inscription:

“To God’s man in God’s place.”

On rare occasions I’ve had the feeling I was God’s man in God’s place. That’s the greatest reward of leadership. Not that I have accomplished so much as a leader, but that what I have accomplished has sometimes been worthy and blessed by God.

Copyright © 1986 by Christianity Today

The most important thing in life is not to capitalize on our gains. Any fool can do that. The important thing is to profit from our losses.

Congregations sometimes judge leaders by “apparent success”—and we sometimes judge ourselves that way as well. But leadership is more than outward. To lead a congregation, we must recognize some intangible factors, both good and bad.

Let’s start by identifying three false indicators of successful leadership.

1. Succeeding at a private agenda. When this happens, the leader progresses but the people don’t. A pastor builds a large church, for example, in order to win a denominational post rather than to serve the people.

General Electric once learned that young eager beavers running branch or subsidiary operations would sometimes take short cuts that didn’t show up until after they were promoted upward. They would cut maintenance expenditures, for example, and throw the money into the profit column. That made them look extremely good. The next fellow would come along, however, and find a lot of overdue maintenance waiting for him. GE decided to add a section to its evaluation procedure for executives: What effect has this person had on the future of the operation?

In the same way, the pastor who takes too many outside speaking engagements is pursuing a private agenda. The person who wants to pray at every football game or social event, to be continually seen with the right people, looks like a leader—but is he? He may become a prominent person but not be leading the church to help people mature or to reach the lost. It’s a private agenda.

2. Measuring success by the competition. Why do we seldom refer to the pastor of a small church as a “leader”? Because we’ve adopted a competition mode of thinking.

Doing better than other people doesn’t mean we’re successful. We still might not be doing anything close to what we ought to be doing. The essence of leadership is progress toward our spiritual goal, not competition.

But it’s easy to get diverted. In fact, some who are renowned for leading congregations are really immunizing the people against real responsibilities. I sincerely believe pastors of many large churches have learned how to make the irresponsible comfortable. For my personal edification, I once made a list of the ways it can be done. For example, talking only about the total budget, seldom about per capita giving. That way, a pastor can emphasize the seven- or even eight-figure sum—and the people are impressed because the budget is usually larger than last year. But on an individual basis, they may be doing far less than a tithe, perhaps less per capita than the year before. To me, that’s not leading people to responsible giving.

When there’s lots of hype and little effort required, people will gather. True leaders, however, help people assume responsibility, not avoid it.

3. Popularity. The fact that people feel warmly toward a pastor doesn’t mean he’s a good leader at all. It simply means he has a likable personality. A lot of times it’s more important to get the job done than to be liked.

I got some criticism once from my Sunday school teaching, so I had my secretary type up a card with a quote from Martin Luther: “I find it impossible to avoid offending guilty men, for there is no way of avoiding it but by our silence or their patience; and silent we cannot be because of God’s command, and patient they cannot be because of their guilt.” Every Christian leader ought to put that in a frame. There’s no way to keep the hit dog from hollering. The trick for a Christian is to continue to love that hollering dog.

What Derails Leaders

Impressive-looking leaders can veer into the ditch for a couple of reasons:

• They were steered by their ego. This kind of person reminds me of the inspector in the underwear commercial: “It isn’t Hanes until I say it’s Hanes.” That was pretty much the style of one association president I knew, who when asked for the basis of a certain decision, replied, “My word.” This man was elected to twenty-seven one-year terms in a row, and he even-tually got to thinking he was God. Then came his downfall.

I saw the leader of a major church fail not long ago. His word had gotten to be law. If he said it, you didn’t argue with it. In the end, all moral ground gave way.

A lot of leaders start out humbly, with right purposes, but get diverted into ego trips. Many electronic preachers start out sincere as they can be, but often the ratings catch their eye, and they become showmen.

• They became discouraged. This is an opposite reason for derailment, and a more common one. Some of us don’t have enough success to get on an ego trip. The train isn’t rolling that fast.

But we do get sidetracked by small failures. We somehow can’t quite muster the second and third effort to keep trying again. Leadership means plugging away until the break-through comes. My mother, in the midst of raising five boys on a preacher’s salary, used to repeat and repeat: “Let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not” (Gal. 6:9). That’s a great verse for the heart of any leader.

Staying on Track

Bill Glass, All-Pro football player of the 1960s, said he was never on a winning team that didn’t have high morale. But the morale came from winning; winning did not come from the morale. “That’s what people who are not in leadership don’t understand,” he said.

It’s important for a leader to generate some progress—some “wins”—to show people. Browbeating them with their failures is a poor way to motivate. People need to see success, to catch a feeling of progress.

No matter what the circ*mstances, there is always some kind of progress to be made. A congregation of 250 farmers will make progress different from a city church’s. But progress is possible. The leader finds out what that is and leads in that direction. It may not be dramatic. But as long as he’s making progress, he’s leading.

Charles Pitts, the man whose company built the Toronto subway, told me, “When you ride up to a site and find fifty or a hundred people standing there waiting for the boss to make a decision, you don’t call a committee meeting. You get them busy immediately. If you don’t know exactly what to do, you at least get them doing something that won’t hurt. People have got to feel the boss knows what ought to be done.”

A leader simply must have the confidence to lead. You can’t afford to get confused in front of your people. If you want to be confused, do it at home! Confusion, like prayer, is best in a closet.

Every leader also needs to understand that early sacrifices have to be made in order to earn a place in leadership. When you are young, you can’t set out to be both a Rubenstein and a baseball star. You have to pay the price of preparation, both formally and informally. A lot of people come out of seminary thinking they’re automatic leaders. No, they’re candidates for leadership.

A friend of mine, Glenn Baldwin, upon selling his very successful investment company, was asked the secret of his success.

“Well,” he said, “back when I started twenty-two years ago, I worked very hard and had a good year. Twenty-one years ago, I worked hard and had my second good year. Then twenty years ago, I worked hard and had my third good year.… The secret of my success was twenty-two consecutive ‘good years.'”

The questioner replied, “Is that all? Wasn’t there some secret?”

“There was no secret, no trick,” Glenn said. “I just put one good year on top of another.”

People these days will read In Search of Excellence and think they’re going to find some secret formula. More than any secret techniques, the quality companies all have quality leadership.

Now I will admit the magnitude of a leader’s success is not always determined by the person or his qualities. Often, the times bring special opportunities. Abraham Lincoln would never have been known as perhaps our greatest president without the Civil War. Winston Churchill’s career was fading into insignificance until the Second World War came, and Britain needed a man of his talent.

But this is only one factor. Far more is decided by how intelligently we work. We cannot dictate the times, but as Mordecai said to Esther, “Who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?” We are responsible for the situation into which we have been placed.

As the sign my wife hung over the washing machine says, “Bloom where you are planted.”

An Eye on the Destination

A leader should never try to lead without first being captivated by a vision. Paul never lost the vision of his divine appointment to be an apostle to the Gentiles.

Intensity must always have focus, of course. If you are intense about the wrong things, people will lose respect and think you are a neurotic or religious fanatic. The vision must always be of the possible. It’s very romantic to say, as some do, “Never attempt anything that isn’t too big for you, so you’ll be sure God has to do it.” How much better to tackle those things he gives that are at hand and doable.

Seldom does an unknown person win an Olympic gold medal. Seldom does a no-name catapult into a place of leadership. In fact, the Scripture says not to use a novice. We disobey that sometimes by taking a person who’s been successful in one field and moving him into the spiritual arena. Just because someone’s led a business or made money does not mean he’s a spiritual leader. Leaders are grown; they accrete. Leadership requires experience and emotional control. It demands the ability to persuade, and the ability to solve problems.

The vision we pursue must be worthy. It must make the effort seem like a good investment. Those asked to do the work must say, “What I’m doing is worth the cost.” This is one weakness in the Soviet system right now. People don’t see anything happening that’s worthy of their effort.

When Torrey Johnson, a young pastor of a small Chicago church, founded Youth for Christ back in the 1940s, he wasn’t just chasing numbers. He saw an opportunity to do something for soldiers hanging out on the street on Saturday night. From that movement has come some of evangelicalism’s greatest leaders. At the 1974 Lausanne Congress on World Evangelization, there was a gathering of former YFCers, and the room turned out to contain much of the leadership of the evangelical world. That’s what can happen when you pursue a worthy vision.

Leadership is the ability to see beyond the odds—to see how you can change the odds. If you don’t see that, you are asking for failure.

The goal may not be reached in your lifetime. But as Lincoln said, “I would rather fail in a cause that will ultimately succeed than succeed in a cause that will ultimately fail.” Sometimes we leaders have to realize we are laying foundations—which always take shape much more slowly than superstructures. We can’t get dissatisfied with the slow work of the diggings and pilings just because the person who will do the superstructure will appear to be doing so much more.

Leadership requires a certain patience. Generally our ego is the overlord of our patience, but in leadership it must be subservient. Six times around the walls of Jericho wasn’t enough to make them fall. In the same way, a few years later it took Gideon quite a while to find his three hundred core men.

We don’t lead masses except in entertainment, or at best moving them by short-term enthusiasm. On the other hand, developing people takes time. But it also has much more long-lasting effects. We need to remember we are serving the God of eternity.

Knowing What People Need

Leaders do not usually know, through intuition, what direction people need to be led. Most effective leaders pick up cues from their people’s needs.

In the business world, Ted Levitt described the difference between sales and marketing. If you’re oriented to selling, you start by deciding to manufacture a product—say, baby carriages—and you get the sales force to go out and sell them. In marketing, you go out and find what customers would like to buy; then you make that product. You start near the end of the process and work backwards.

Proctor and Gamble, for example, is a marketing company. Being a chemical company, they can make soap or toothpaste any way they want. But they went out and asked consumers, “What do you want?” Well, people said they’d like something to stop cavities. That sounded rather far-fetched at first, but before long we had flouride in the toothpaste, and our dental bills went down.

The church is a combination of sales and marketing. The gospel is fixed, but not the emphasis. If you read Paul’s letters, he spent much of the space dealing with what his readers wanted to talk about. They had written him with questions, and he was answering them. He always included the gospel, but he applied it to their specific needs.

If I said to a group of preachers, “Give people what they want,” many would see it as a prostitution of the gospel. But the gospel is so broad. Yes, we all believe the Scripture provides answers to problems, but we’ll get people much more involved if, like Paul, we talk about what their problems are. Too many say, “Well, I think the people ought to know Romans, or the Decalogue, or the miracles.” Is that what they sense a need to know?

As long as you are dedicated to bringing scriptural principles to bear on people’s problems, you’re a marketer. You’re helping people with the problems they have by applying “the mysteries of God,” as my friend Ray Stedman would put it.

We’ve learned in industry that most people will not learn anything they are not going to use shortly. Very few are intellectually curious, wanting to learn for learning’s sake. If you tell somebody how to get to a certain stadium, he’ll probably forget—unless he wants to go to the stadium. If somebody stops you and says, “How do I get to the stadium?” you can be sure he’s going to listen very well.

Somebody was raving to me recently about a certain television preacher. I said, “Is he good?”

“Oh, he’s wonderful.”

“What makes him a good preacher?” I asked.

She answered, “When you get through listening to him, you’d think he’s been in your living room all week. He knows where you are.”

Interior Leadership

While leaders at the top are evident and visible, leadership must be exerted all through an organization. That’s why Jethro told Moses to divide up the responsibility and the authority. Moses didn’t keep it all to himself.

In any well-run organization, a whole group of leaders and developing leaders are coming up. Leaders cannot operate without help. That is why, at another time, Moses needed to have his arms held up. He knew what he wanted to accomplish. But he was physically incapable by himself.

I know a preacher right now who’s tearing a church apart because he’s saying to people, “Look, we’re going to succeed whether you come with us or not. Stay under the stairs if you want. We don’t need you—you need us.” That’s not good leadership.

Leadership is more than personality; it’s character. The accomplishment of a goal requires synergy. For each goal is part of a larger goal, thereby developing momentum. You don’t get diverted; you stick with your master plan. The followers then enjoy the fruits of their labor. There are celebration times, when you say, “Hey, we’ve done well. I appreciate you; your hard work is recognized.”

Good leadership brings out the best in people; it makes more of any individual than he would have been had he not followed. Winning makes the organization willing to pay the price of discipline. And unless you make people conscious of winning, discipline becomes very odious. This has been a weakness of puritanical Christianity.

One of the toughest bandmasters I ever knew was Willy Fenten, a German who produced a championship high school band year after year. I can still hear him hollering at one trumpet player, “You can’t play like that and play in this band! This is a championship band.” Fenten didn’t emphasize his own personal displeasure. He emphasized the student’s contribution to the organization, and the quality of the organization. Therein lies a significant difference.

Is It Worth It?

When Harold Hook was voted “CEO of the Year” by Texas A&M, he outlined in his acceptance speech what he called three important questions for leaders:

1. Am I enjoying what I am doing?

2. Am I happy with where I’m going?

3. Am I satisfied with what I’m becoming?

I was impressed with that and sent it along to some friends of mine, including a young man, who three days later called me. We had an interesting conversation.

“Fred, you’re going to think I’ve gone off my rocker.”

“Why?”

“I just liquidated my investments.”

That stopped me for sure. I said, “Do you know something about the stock market I don’t—like, a crash?”

“No.”

“Were you losing?”

“No, I was making money.”

“Did you need the money?”

“No.”

“Then why’d you do that?”

He said, “Fred, I’m sick and tired of grabbing The Wall Street Journal first thing every morning. That is not the object of my life. And when I read that thing you sent about ‘Am I satisfied with what I’m becoming?’ I said no. I’m becoming too involved in my investments. So I liquidated them today.”

I said, “You didn’t do a silly thing. You simply looked at your priority list and took action. You did well.”

I saw him three days later. “How do you feel now?” I asked.

“I feel exactly like I did when I quit smoking,” he said. “I’m free.”

It is important that the act of leading make us become what we want to become. This way we do not end up hollow, having our insides eaten away by success. Paul said he had run the race and finished the course; he was satisfied with his leadership. That, in the end, should be the product of any leader’s life.

Copyright © 1986 by Christianity Today

To tackle problems in a masterly way, the leader must see things whole as well as in separate parts.

While I was speaking at a church in Cincinnati, a visitor from India walked by the auditorium and heard me. He took a seat in the back.

On Monday morning, he called to ask if we could meet for lunch. I discovered this man was a Ph.D. in chemistry and a devoted follower of Gandhi.

I asked, “What have you observed about Americans?”

“Well,” he said, “you Americans are segmented. A large segment of your life is devoted to making money. You have another segment for family, another for social interaction, and yet another segment for religion. But they’re not tied together with any philosophical thread. Each of them stands alone, almost as if you are a different person in each of these roles.”

“Tell me about Dr. Gandhi,” I asked.

“Dr. Gandhi had all the areas of interest I have just mentioned, but in his life, each was an expression of his religion.”

I realized this chemist had made a profound observation about American life. I also realized his comment about Gandhi was one of the greatest compliments I had ever heard paid to a person. The focused, unsegmented life is a rarity today.

Even the church, at least in our culture, sometimes has a tendency to segment persons. We take the segment of a person’s life called “spiritual” and dress it up differently from the rest. We bring the person into a different culture on Sunday, seat him with people he may not see during the week, and use a peculiar vocabulary. All this has little to do with his job at the canning factory or computer terminal. Few people think of their business as an expression of their religion. Few think about time spent with family as a religious act, or social occasions as religious experiences.

This segmentation is something even the best-intentioned leaders fall into.

After speaking at a seminary chapel service, I met with the faculty, and the first question someone asked was, “How long have you been bivocational?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

The person said, “How long have you had a ministry as well as a business?”

“I’m not bivocational,” I said. “That term suggests one interest is above the other, or that I stop doing one temporarily while I’m doing the other. That’s not so; I carry them simultaneously. Hopefully I am a whole person—a Christian. Both my speaking and my business are expressions of that wholeness.”

I could tell even these sophisticated professors had a segmented concept of the Christian life.

I once saw William F. Buckley talking to Malcolm Muggeridge on television. Buckley said, “I would find it very difficult to talk to my compatriots about anything spiritual.”

Muggeridge replied, “I find it difficult not to.”

Obviously, Buckley accepts compartmentalization. He is brilliant, articulate, attends mass regularly, and is ready to write or get on national television and talk about spirituality—but not in normal conversation.

The ultimate goal of a church leader, as I see it, is to lead people to maturity in Christ. This, of course, starts with their salvation, which opens the possibility of maturing the saved.

And what is maturity if not living an integrated, consistent life? Maturing Christians are people who are becoming less and less compartmentalized. All of life is an expression of their faith.

The Consistent Christian Life

When I go to a religious retreat, I get the uneasy feeling some people are trying to fulfill their religious obligation all at one time. It’s almost like children forced to eat spinach—they stall around, then gulp it down in one huge bite to get it over. Or like paying an insurance premium annually—one large effort, and it’s taken care of for the year.

For two or three days, retreatants are willing to talk about their faith. But if you ask, “How would you like to do this next week?” they’d say, “Heavens, no. We’ve done enough.”

A mature faith is hom*ogenized. I’m very impressed with the approach of one church that offers a program called “Growth” one Saturday a month, and laymen have a chance to consider their total lives. One time they talk about investments, for instance. Another morning, they’ll discuss ambition or office politics. They’re making an attempt to hom*ogenize faith and life, and to me, that’s a step toward maturity.

Spiritual leaders lead toward that consistent Christian life. They deal with all areas, not just the spiritual. They address not just family devotions but family discipline and decision making. They emphasize not just the tithe but the whole concept of money making from a Christian perspective. Mature Christians understand the difference, for instance, between materialism and living in a material world. I find lots of Christians, even church staff people, who spend too much time thinking about the money their chosen profession does not provide. Thinking too much about money is materialism, whether you have money or not.

Another area for integration rather than segmentation is our relationship with non-Christians. These should be friendly, focusing on what we share in common, not continually pointing out how different we are.

The apostle Paul commands us not to be “conformed to this world” but “transformed by the renewing of your minds.” Sometimes we find it more comfortable simply to shun non-Christians than to say, “When you’re right, I’m going to join you. If you’re wrong, I am going to call it to your attention as inoffensively as I can, or at least not participate.” If we are conformed to the world’s values, we never have freedom. But if we are transformed, we have freedom to be redemptive, and all our relationships can be redemptive. That’s maturity.

Yesterday I was listening to a pastor preach on the Cross. Sometimes I think it’s unfortunate the Cross presents such possibilities for dramatics. We get emotional sermons describing the awful suffering. I wonder what these preachers would have done if Christ had been executed in modern times—with a hypodermic, or in an electric chair. It would destroy all those vivid two-point sermons about the vertical and horizontal aspects and how Christ’s arms are outstretched to enfold all those who kneel at the Cross.

Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not being sacrilegious. But the power of Christ’s death is not in the dramatics. In fact, Christ did not suffer there as many hours as the thieves did. The power of Christ’s death was in his becoming sin for us, and ultimately in his resurrection and victory over death.

So the redemptive approach is not to make Christ’s death a spectacle but to bring the significance of it to the unseeing. It is living in the victory of his resurrection.

This is what leadership is all about: raising people’s level of maturity. We raise it by bringing first knowledge, then understanding, and eventually wisdom.

A Balanced Church Life

Another area where maturity demands an integrated, seamless understanding is the extent of our involvement in church functions. This involves both time and use of gifts.

No one can mature spiritually without worship. There is no way to be mature without having fellowship with Christian brothers and sisters, without having a good relationship with the church itself. The church is ordained of God, and if I want to be in the middle of God’s activity, I must be involved in my local fellowship of believers.

Somebody asked me one summer when it was 102 degrees in Dallas, “Why do you go to church?” I sheepishly admitted that one August I had sat in church during a very predictable sermon and written an essay outline on that subject. The first reason was that Scripture commands it. The second was that I needed it at least once a week to position myself under the lordship of Christ.

He and I are not partners; we are not equals. I am subordinate. Sitting there in church each week, I recognize and renew the subordinate position.

But this truth needs to be balanced with another: It’s not always healthy to go to church every time the doors are open.

I appreciate what Terry Fullam, Episcopal priest in Connecticut, said to one woman who was there for almost every activity: “You are here at church too much. If it keeps on, I’m going to suspect you have a lousy family relationship.” As it turned out, he later discovered that was the case. Church had become an escape from the home.

Church should never become the equivalent of a country club, where some people go three nights a week just to get away.

Like anything else, church attendance, to be mature, must be hom*ogenized with the rest of life. Some pastors try to increase church involvement by getting people to decrease their involvement in other things. They set up a war: The spiritual segment fights the other segments of life. If people would cut down on time spent in PTA, on golf courses, or coaching Little League, they could come to church more often and put their time into the spiritual segment—or so goes the reasoning.

Unfortunately, that battle does not always lead to maturity. It certainly doesn’t encourage godly people to take the gospel with them as they move throughout their world.

During Richard Halverson’s long pastoral ministry, before he became chaplain of the United States Senate, he was known for visiting his people where they were. He would go to oil rigs, kitchens, car dealerships, nurseries, and executive suites. He had no agenda other than to visit and remind these people they were Christ’s representatives in that place. This was his way to hom*ogenize, to encourage maturity.

This approach requires a secure, unthreatened leader. Some church leaders are afraid to hom*ogenize the spiritual because they fear losing their one area of control. Church functions are the one place where the pastor is in charge, and he wants to be able to identify how much of the people’s lives he controls or contributes to.

That approach would be fine if our goal were simply to increase attention to church. But increasing the level of activity is not the goal; increasing the level of maturity is the goal.

Mature leaders understand that controlling more hours per week may not be a worthwhile goal. It may even conflict with beneficial family interests.

The Leader’s Role

How do we lead people into maturity? The first step is to lead ourselves into maturity, partly through the personal disciplines, which we discussed in chapter 4. We may never reach complete maturity this side of heaven, but we certainly cannot lead others into maturity unless we are experiencing the maturing process and becoming more consistent, well balanced, and whole.

Beyond that, however, the leader’s role is to help people see their entire life as an expression of their faith, to apply their Christianity to all the diverse areas of their lives.

Some young pastors are sure to ask, “How do I personally help that process? I’m trained in theology, and you’re saying that to help people mature, I have to apply the faith to being a sheet metal worker, an auto mechanic, or a public school-teacher. I don’t have any expertise in those fields. What can I do?”

It’s a fair question, and my answer has two parts.

On one hand, the quickest way to appear a phony is to believe you can become a great varied resource for a large number of people at an early age. You can’t. Young pastors are like young teachers who study tomorrow’s lesson tonight, barely staying ahead of their students. Through skimming, they often collect superficial answers. Likewise, some young pastors try to counsel in areas where they have no experience. Only time, knowledge, and experience with people can provide the depth of necessary understanding.

On the other hand, even young pastors can point people to the appropriate resources. “You know, Joe is involved with that. It might be helpful for you to ask him what his experience has been.” We can help develop maturity in the congregation primarily by taking advantage of the body’s resources. Leaders don’t have to be the only resource for guidance.

Personally, I’m impressed with churches that make use of their older in-house advisers. Recently my wife has been asked by three or four young mothers for advice on child raising. “How do you live through this stage?” Mary Alice does a marvelous job of quietly talking it through with them. By the end of the conversation, the young mothers realize they’ll make it.

In business, we have staff advisers, consultants, and specialists we call upon for particular needs. If I were heading a church ministry, I would try to do the same. I’d publish a list of people with expertise they are willing to share—an experience bank. I wouldn’t make them turn in reports on their activity; I’d simply make it known they are available to minister to those with questions.

Often when I’m teaching a large group, I’ll say, “You can’t believe how many problems are in this group.… But you know something else? You don’t realize how many answers are in this group, either. You probably know the problems are here, but you don’t know how many people here have gone through exactly what you’re going through right now and have found a solution.”

Wouldn’t it be marvelous if we could stop the class and just match up the people who have the problems and those who have found answers?

That’s one of the prime functions of leadership in developing a mature congregation. You make all the resources of Christianity and the body of Christ available to everybody. The leader becomes the chief networker, the facilitator, helping people turn to one another (and to himself in some cases), recognizing all the gifts and resources within the church. This also helps produce integrated, unsegmented Christians, because you’re involved in all the diverse areas of life—work, education, art, family life, recreation—and people begin to see these are all part of Christian living.

The Test of Mature Leadership

How can you tell when a church is well led? Often by what happens when the leader is not there.

I attended First Evangelical Free Church in Fullerton, California, a few weeks ago on a Sunday when Charles Swindoll did not speak. I was impressed by the friendliness, the way people talked to each other. I saw people whose ministry seemed to be that of encouragement. They went around greeting people, passing out little compliments. The place was better for them being there. In a good organization, the ministry continues whether the leader is there or not. That, to me, is a sign of a maturing body—and a sign of good leadership.

I appreciate the ministry of Frank Tillapaugh, who has done a marvelous job emphasizing lay leadership at Bear Valley Baptist Church in Denver. He was asked one time, “How do you know when to take on a project?”

“Any time a legitimate need surfaces, and we have enough people willing to accept responsibility for it, our automatic response as a church is yes,” he said. He is quick to recognize the ministries of lay leaders.

At a meeting with fifty church leaders, I was explaining the way Frank encourages people to develop their own ministries. Immediately one staff pastor said, “But how can you protect the church against that?” He missed the point entirely!

Another pastor wanted to know, “How can you keep control in a church that flexible?” It was obvious he felt the church should be run only by the professional staff.

Again, the purpose of the church is not to give pastors positions of responsibility. It is not to run well-organized programs for people. It is not to protect people from responsibility. The mission of the church, and therefore the purpose of church leadership, is to develop mature Christians.

Are people applying their faith to all areas of their lives? Are they creating opportunities to serve? To develop their own gifts? Would the ministry continue on without me?

If we can answer those questions in the affirmative, we are well on our way to successfully leading a congregation to maturity.

Copyright © 1986 by Christianity Today

In one of George MacDonald's books, there is a woman who has met a sudden sorrow. "I wish I'd never been made!" she exclaims petulantly and bitterly: to which her friend quietly replies, "My dear, you're not made yet. You're only being made — and this is the Maker's process."

James S. Stewart

Sometimes pastors regret stepping in. Despite pure motives and a deep desire to help, their well-intentioned intervention can at times do more harm than good.

Earl and Edna Waring were in their forties, and they were childless. David Lindquist, their pastor, also noticed — with everyone else — their penchant for public bickering.

In the adult Sunday school class, Earl would joke about looking forward to the church potluck "so I can finally get a decent meal." Edna would counter, "I'm just glad the church has a full-time janitor to clean the floor after you've eaten." The rest of the class would laugh nervously. The humor did not quite cover the barbed intent.

David wondered how he could help Earl and Edna relate to one another without continual put-downs. One day he stopped by their house and asked pointblank, "Sometimes you two seem unhappy with each other. Why is that?"

"We're not unhappy," Earl said.

"Around the church, people perceive you that way, and so do I," said David. "You bicker about money in Sunday school. You publicly ridicule each other's appearance. Last Sunday, Earl, in front of your wife, you told me, 'Edna can't cook worth a lick, which wouldn't be so bad if she'd only make the beds, but she never does.' It's wearying. But even worse, I worry about what it's doing to your relationship."

Earl and Edna didn't seem to take it seriously. David left, but he was determined to try again. He knew that often people needed time to get used to the idea of dealing with a problem. Over the next few weeks, he visited Earl and Edna two more times, and each time he'd ask, "How are you two getting along?" Each time, they'd reply "Fine."

But David didn't give up. On the next visit, he pressed harder.

"There must be something underneath that's rankling you two. Earl, tell me, what attracted you to Edna in the first place?"

As Earl retold the story of their meeting, Edna remained strangely quiet, seemingly preoccupied. When he was done, David pressed her to open up, to describe her relationship with Earl.

After a long pause, she said, "Earl, I need to ask your forgiveness." She seemed to stumble for words. She began to talk about her past, revealing several rather sordid sexual experiences with various men before she had met Earl.

"I was quite a floozy," she said. "Maybe that's why I'm the way I am now. I've never been too domestic a lady. Of course, I'm saved now, and that puts everything away, but sometimes I still feel guilty."

Earl listened wide-eyed. "I never knew that before!"

"I appreciate you sharing that," said David, feeling that at last he'd made a breakthrough. "Earl, how about you? What experiences in the past may be continuing to influence the way you relate to your wife?"

Earl hung his head and admitted that he, too, had been rather promiscuous in his young adult years. He admitted he still was attracted to other women, although he had not actually been physically unfaithful.

David talked about forgiveness and accepting one another. Before he left, he prayed with them that they would be able to support one another rather than tear each other down.

Unfortunately, the approach was a mistake — at least in that particular encounter. Now, ten years later, David wishes he had handled things differently.

"I got them to confess all this dirt to each other," he says. "But all it really did was create suspicion and distrust. 'Will she do it again?' 'Can he ever really put his past behind him?' They had been married about eight years at that point, and though they bickered, they had stayed together. But within another year, they were divorced."

Of course, they might have divorced anyway, but David feels his unwise, or perhaps untimely, intervention contributed to the failure of the marriage.

"Given their patterns of communication, I had simply added to the ammunition they could use against one another," he says. "They had learned to live with the bickering about cooking and unmade beds. That was a comfortable — and safe — way of fighting. But suddenly I'd introduced the heavy artillery, and even when it wasn't used overtly, it was always in mind, and that proved too weighty for the relationship to bear.

"For me," he reflects, "it raises the question of whether we really need to know everything in the past or not. Isn't the forgiveness of God sufficient not to raise those questions again?"

Seeking disclosure for disclosure's sake, he now feels, is a mistake.

David Lindquist's experience also raises another issue: At times, trying to help only hinders. If even well-intentioned intervention can prove destructive, when should a pastor intervene, and when should even a bad situation be left alone?

Obviously, even in small churches, there are going to be more fires flaring up, more problems in people's lives, than any pastor can personally stamp out. How do you decide which ones to take on?

When NOT to Intervene

There are occasions when it is probably best not to try to help those who don't want help.

When you don't know the person. Without some kind of personal relationship, intervention is difficult and risky. In these cases, the better strategy is an indirect approach.

"At the shopping center, I often see harried mothers ready to strike their toddlers or scream at them for simply being young and dropping their ice cream or whatever," said one woman, a co-minister with her husband. "Since I don't know them, I don't feel I have the right to directly intervene, but one time I walked by and said, 'They're a handful, aren't they? I'd forgotten how much patience it takes to be a parent. Even so, I wish my children were that age again. Yours are so cute.' It knocked the props out from under the mother. Suddenly she said, 'Yeah, they are kind of cute.' I was simply trying to be a little salt of the earth. We never exchanged names, and we may never meet again, but that compliment kept her from throttling her kids."

When you're beyond your depth. When a situation demands more skill or time than you have available, the best thing you can do for yourself and for the person is to bring in someone else.

One pastor found himself facing an impossibly complicated marriage triangle. Initially the wife came to the pastor complaining about poor communication patterns. When the pastor met with the husband, he discovered the man had been having an affair for over a year.

The problem was that the wife was pregnant, and so was the mistress! The husband didn't want to lose his family; he wanted to keep his wife. But he was not only emotionally attached to the mistress, he felt a moral responsibility to help her through the pregnancy and delivery of their child.

The pastor was stumped. "Normally, I'd tell a man to stop seeing his mistress as a prerequisite to rebuilding his marriage. But what could I do in this situation?"

When the husband started bringing the mistress to the pastor for counseling, the pastor knew it was time to call for reinforcements.

"I was in over my head," he said. "I think I know how to help couples repair their marriages, but I can't do that and help the husband and his lover at the same time."

Since the husband and wife were members of his church, he continued to see them, but he referred the mistress to another Christian counselor.

How can you tell when it's time to refer? Another pastor offers a helpful image: "I give it my best shot in two or three meetings to see if there are any indications of healing. I'm a counselor, not a psychotherapist. The difference: Counselors put bandages on the wounded so natural processes can help them heal. But when a person is continually ripping the bandages off the wound so it will never heal, it's time for the psychotherapist."

Perhaps the best most pastors can do is clean out the dirt to prevent infection, apply bandages, and set up the situation where normal healing processes can work. When the person persistently sabotages that treatment, it's time to refer.

When your motivation isn't right. Motives are always mixed; elements of fear/love/worry/altruism/reputation all get tangled together when confronting a volatile situation. And yet, pastors have found that some of their most counterproductive confrontations take place when they've gone in with the wrong motivation. So they identify warning lights that occasionally tell them their motives are not right for intervention.

"I was once tempted to confront a husband about his misbehavior, but I realized the only reason was because I liked his wife. Instead of being an ambassador for Christ, I would have been the woman's advocate, her mouthpiece. I realized I was not the right one to counsel that family."

Other pastors admit the temptation to make an appointment with a woman to discuss a problem her husband had mentioned, motivated largely by the pleasure of being with her. In that case, too, the motive is probably sufficient to rule out personal involvement.

Another dangerous and ineffective motivation is self-righteousness. "I've found being dogmatic and legalistic does not lead a person to want help. It turns him against it," said a pastoral counselor. "But if he feels he'll get a fair hearing, he's much more apt to let someone step in. It's crucial to sincerely want to understand that person's point of view. Even if I wind up disagreeing with the decisions he makes, I want to know the factors that went into making those decisions."

Anger is yet another motivation that must be brought under control before attempting intervention. As Laurence J. Peter once said, "Speak when you're angry — and you'll make the best speech you'll ever regret."

Even when the individual has acted so badly as to deserve punishment, "you need to deal with your own feelings before you can deal effectively with the situation," says psychiatrist Louis McBurney. "It's natural to see a child abuser or workaholic as a real villain. But simply being judgmental will not help anyone. The only way I've found to get feelings under control so you can work with the person is to start asking What's caused this person to act this way? Everyone is part victim as well as part villain; every story has two sides. Obviously, we've got to get the individual to stop the destructive behavior, but to do that, we must understand what factors led him or her to act that way."

By checking emotions of anger and judgment, we can begin to truly listen and ask the right questions. McBurney observes, "At this point, you can form an alliance with that person, so he doesn't see you as being against him but with him, and often the person can say, 'I hate this about myself, too. I really do need help.'"

A final motivation pastors find they must guard against is seeing themselves as saviors.

"I have a standard speech for my staff I call 'Messiah Complex 101,'" says a pastor in the Southwest. "Everybody gets it several times because all of us in the helping professions have a little touch of the Messiah complex. We tend to believe that given enough time and money, we can love people enough and pray hard enough and work hard enough to help anybody. Not so. There are some people you cannot help no matter how hard you try. Everybody has to learn that, and if you don't, you can create more problems than you solve. Part of learning to be a minister is recognizing there are some people for whom you have nothing to offer — at least at this point in time."

How can you identify the people you can help? Do you have to try and see if you get rebuffed? Or can indications tip you off right from the beginning?

When TO Intervene

How do you discern the leading of the Spirit from a human compulsion to correct someone? Here are some of the factors pastors point to when deciding whether to help a person who doesn't want help.

God's persistent call. Opportunity does not equal a mandate to act. Just because you become aware of a need does not mean God is calling you to meet that need.

"I do not think God has called me to straighten out everyone," says one long-time pastor. "Unless it's an obvious emergency, I consider a concern God-given only if it stays with me over time. If it's a passing thing, I doubt if it's the call of God. But when the Lord lays it on your heart to help someone, he'll make sure you don't miss it. The story of young Samuel comes to mind. God will call you more than once if it really is of him."

Another pastor said, "In some cases, I've waited three weeks to six months before I knew God wanted me to act. He used that time to show me other facts I needed to know. I became more observant. I gained wisdom and necessary evidence."

When, before God, motives are right. If we are tempted to "straighten someone out," it is doubly important to check our motivations. What should the motivation be? Because I love God. It sounds simple, and it is. But in essence, that has to be the primary motive: loving God and wanting to help others love God, too.

"One motivation I have to guard against is feeling pious and smug before God," said one pastor. "It's easy for me to point out misbehavior or sin because it makes me feel righteous. It's even sweeter when something bad happens to the person and I can say, 'Don't you remember when we talked about that? I warned you.' But that doesn't do the person any good, and it certainly doesn't help my spiritual life. It's pride, which leads to the Elijah syndrome — 'It's just you and me, Lord, and sometimes I wonder about you.'"

A check on that motivation is to ask, Do I care deeply for that person, and not simply for the other people in the situation? The guidance in Galatians 6, the passage that commands those who are spiritual to restore those who are "overtaken in a trespass," is all couched in language emphasizing the importance of eliminating any self-righteous tendencies. We are to "bear one another's burdens" (v. 2) and "watch yourself, or you also may be tempted" (v. 1) and not think too highly of ourselves (v. 3) and test our own actions (v. 4).

As counselor Everett Worthington, Jr., writes, "Only after careful self-examination — more than a cursory overview — praying in the presence of the Holy Spirit, can we see well enough to even attempt to remove the painful splinter from the eye of a friend. It is never hasty."1

Before attempting to correct anyone, he asks himself these questions to check his motivation:

• Do I really care for that person?

• Am I a close enough friend that I am willing to bear his or her burdens?

• Is the timing right for a confrontation?

• Is the Holy Spirit directing?

If the answer to all these is yes, then Worthington considers how to broach the topic. "The key is that we restore people 'in a spirit of gentleness,' lest we too be tempted (Gal. 6:1)," he writes. The danger to pride is ever present.

The timing is opportune because of a crisis. Often it's a matter of time before you break through to resistant people. And many times breakthrough arrives as a result of a crisis in their lives.

Ike, for instance, was a farmer and a father of the old school — strict with his children and never showing emotion. He would make his children line up when he entered the house, and he expected them to sit without speaking at the dinner table.

His pastor, Eb O'Malley, claimed he could never talk to Ike about anything personal. Ike was always polite but reserved; conversations were kept on a surface level … until Eb was called to perform the funeral of Ike's brother.

A few days later, Eb met Ike at lunchtime, and Ike said, "You know, my brother and I were very close. One reason was because we endured a lot together as kids. My father was a harsh man. When I was twelve, my mother died, and the day of her funeral my dad got us up early and forced us all to work in the field from 6:30 to 10:15. Then he called us in, and we had fifteen minutes to get dressed for the funeral. We went to the funeral home, and immediately after the service, he loaded us back in the car, brought us home, and sent us back out to the field. We couldn't even go to the dinner that everyone else was having after the funeral. I remember thinking Aren't you supposed to cry when your mom dies? But Dad never gave us a chance. He wanted to keep us busy."

Ike looked at his pastor. "After my brother's funeral a couple days ago, I got to thinking. Maybe I'm more like my father than I'd like to admit."

Eb said later, "From then on, he was much more willing to talk with me about his relationship with God, his wife, and his children. His brother's funeral seemed to be the turning point."

Sorting Out the Options

Most pastors, as they mature, begin to seek counsel before riding off on any rescue missions. As one pastor described it: "Early in my ministry, I took a solve-them-as-they-come approach. My assumption was we shouldn't have problems in this church, so anything I became aware of I tried to solve. Even though my motive was good, my assumption was not well thought out. I never asked, 'How does this problem compare to this other problem, and which of the two should I be spending time on?' I didn't have any plan of action. As the bullets were fired, I tried to bite them. I about lost my sanity.

"In my second church, I began to trust the advice of my two part-time staff members. Before I acted, I'd sit down with them and discuss the situation. We would decide whether any action was necessary or not. If not, we'd pray about it and leave it. If we decided action was necessary, then we'd decide who and how, or if anyone else (such as the board) should be in on it."

Before taking the initiative in a ticklish ministry situation, this pastor and his associates asked themselves these questions:

1. Do we have all the facts? Do we have something more than hearsay? What can we do to get a fuller picture?

2. Once we have a better understanding of the situation, is it as bad as we thought? Whom does it really impact? Is it a church-wide problem? Is it going to affect one family, four families, or forty families?

3. Can we afford to wait? If we don't respond, what's the worst thing that could happen in a week? In a month? In a year?

"That's not passing the buck," said the pastor. "That's gaining the wisdom of time. You don't ignore it forever, but instead of rushing to the fire immediately, take some time to gain perspective. If we felt the problem could wait a month, we would let it go. My tendency was to exaggerate the urgency. I was surprised how many 'emergencies' took care of themselves in a month.

"If we had a limited problem involving three or four families, and we felt it was intense enough to require action, then we would assign one of the pastors to chat with the individual or the family and see what could be done.

"If we discovered forty families were being seriously affected, then we would bring it before the church board and say, 'Here are the facts as we understand them. Do any of you know anything we don't know or anything that would be helpful?' Then we would say, 'What do you think we should do?'"

Farmers know crops go through three stages: green, ripe, rotten. Harvest is effective only at one of the three stages. Pastors, too, have learned that intervention is not always the appropriate action, but at the right time, it can produce a rich spiritual harvest.

There's another lesson from the farm, however, that applies. For people to grow, they, like plants, demand an environment where growth is possible. You simply can't force growth out of corn by tugging on the stalks. To grow healthy plants you try to provide nutrients and protection from insects, but you don't keep pulling the plants up every day to check their progress.

So it is with people who don't want help. Sometimes the best thing we can do is provide an environment where change can take place. A steady, consistent witness is often more influential than stormy confrontations or attempts to create an artificial crisis.

So we turn to climate control.

Everett L. Worthington, Jr. How to Help the Hurting. (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 1985) pp. 48-51.

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