Page 3597 – Christianity Today (2024)

Your family is not apart from your ministry; it’s a part of your ministry.
Howard Hendricks

A generation ago, a man wrote in his Bible, “Let my heart be broken with the things that break the heart of God.” That rule ordered his life.

For twenty years, he scurried from Korea to Africa to China to India to Europe saving souls, housing orphans, and building hospitals. Through his documentary films, radio broadcasts, and personal appearances, he awakened the social consciousness of an entire generation of American Christians. In the process, he formed a worldwide relief organization, World Vision, that continues to be one of the most effective Christian relief agencies. The man’s name was Bob Pierce.

But while Bob Pierce was reaching the world, he had greater difficulty embracing those closest to him. He accepted the axiom, “If I take care of God’s business, God will take care of my family.” His consuming work kept him away from home for months at a time. Relational distance increased as time with his family decreased.

He grew sullen, even hostile, toward his family and in time was legally separated from his wife. One child committed suicide; another married prematurely and was soon divorced.

Soon even his closest associates found it impossible to work with him; they removed him from the organization he had begun. He became bitter and reclusive, suffering bouts of severe depression.

Only on his deathbed did he manage one shining evening of reconciliation with his alienated wife and family. He died at peace, but his family life, in many ways, was still in pieces.

The story of Bob Pierce haunts many of us who are commited to wholehearted service for Christ. Must family be sacrificed to accomplish something great for God?

In the corporate world, many would say greatness does come at just such a price. In Tom Peters and Nancy Austin’s book A Passion for Excellence, they write, “We are frequently asked if it is possible to ‘have it all’ — a full and satisfying personal life and a full and satisfying, hard-working professional one. Our answer is: No. The price of excellence is time, energy, attention, focus, at the very same time that energy, attention, focus could have gone toward enjoying your daughter’s soccer game. Excellence is a high-cost item.”

Or consider what David Ogilvy observed in Confessions of an Advertising Man: “If you prefer to spend all your spare time growing roses or playing with your children, I like you better, but do not complain that you’re not being promoted fast enough.”

Granted, Christian accomplishment is measured by a different gauge than the corporate ladder. We’d all acknowledge, even in ministry, that we need to put time, energy, and concentration into our effort. But the story of Bob Pierce has forced many of us to ask the tough questions: Is God honored by a life of tremendous public achievement but private disarray? Does God really call Bob Pierce — or call you and me — to build temple after temple while the foundation of our own families, also a gift from God, crumbles around our feet?

None of us is willing to say so. And yet, the temptation to sacrifice family for ministry, to put other people before spouse and children, continues. Why?

“In many cases it is a genuine love for people and a desire to meet their needs,” says Richard Strauss, “but I wonder if other motives don’t also cloud the issue. Sometimes we feel a great need for affirmation, but our families see us as we are and don’t always give it. Since we can be a hero to a struggling person over there, we spend the time where we get the most praise.”

Some clergy admit that their work is their escape. “I was using my ministry to avoid my family,” confesses one minister. “When my children got on my nerves, I would say, ‘Well, I’ve got to make some calls,’ which was true — there are always calls to make — but I wasn’t being fair to my family.”

“A lot of ministry is fun — getting up in front of people, teaching them how to live their lives,” confesses another. “At times it’s a lot more fun than being home changing diapers. And if you’ve got an excuse to get out seven nights a week, I mean, what wife can argue with God? But that’s unfair.”

Perhaps because of the sad experiences of people like Bob Pierce, perhaps recognizing the basic unfairness of neglecting family to attend to ministry, the trend in more recent days seems to be going the other direction. More and more pastors are refocusing on the family.

In some cases, this can be healthy. As one minister put it: “I continually have to remind myself I am not indispensable, not personally responsible for the salvation of the world. I am responsible for touching the lives around me — especially my family.”

This approach, however, can be taken too far. Currently, the most sacrosanct reason for refusing church responsibilities is that “it would take away time that I need to give to my family.” Say that, and who can argue? End of conversation. The danger is that we can become selfishly myopic, turning our hearts toward home but our backs to the needs of the world.

A few years ago, Ben Patterson made a highly unpopular observation in Leadership: “More than once the command to go into all the world and make disciples has put a strain on family life. So has the call to be hospitable to strangers, visit the sick, feed the hungry, and clothe the naked. But today, Christians can avoid the problematic areas of discipleship in the name of sustaining family life. It is increasingly easy to justify extravagant expenditures on vacations, recreational vehicles, and home improvements because it ‘helps build the family.’ The truth of the matter is that the family has become a convenient excuse for turning our backs on other people. We want to be left alone to cultivate our own little patch of ground.”

Patterson has a point. But so do those who want to avoid the sad example of Bob Pierce. The challenge is to be faithful to both our family and our calling. The question becomes, “How?”

The Delicate Balance

Not long ago I was talking with a pastor who has helped bring renewal to his church and whose family seems to be healthy and strong. By outward appearances, he is doing both extremely well. But when I asked about how he balanced family and ministry, his answer surprised me.

“At any given point in my life,” he said, “I can feel good about my ministry or I can feel good about my involvement with my family, but I’m never able to feel good about them both at the same time.”

It’s a rare moment when we feel totally on top of both church and family responsibilities. Add the responsibility for personal spiritual growth into the mix, and it’s even rarer to feel everything is where it ought to be. We all know the surest way to induce guilt is to ask someone, “How’s your prayer life?” Ninety-nine percent of the answers will be “Not what it ought to be” or “I wish I could do more.”

An Episcopal rector from Washington, D.C., says, “In church ministry and family life, there’s always more to do than you possibly can. But that comes with the territory. That’s true of any person of vision and energy and drive. Lots of professional people are charged with tasks bigger than themselves. You have to learn to live with a certain lack of satisfaction.”

But learning to live with that sense of being continually behind doesn’t eliminate the problem. There are still decisions to be made about how we spend our time. How do we decide where we will concentrate our efforts?

Priorities Aren’t the Problem

Virtually every Christian today would say that the priorities in life are “God first, family second, and career third.” Some, I realize, would take issue with that order. One pastor wrote, “If family is second only to God, what does that say to the full third of our population that is single? God’s supreme will for us is holiness, not marriage and family. There is nothing distinctly Christian about a strong family. Buddhists have them, secular humanists have them, and, I presume, even the Mafia has them.”

I won’t take time to debate fully those issues. I’ll assume, based on the fact you’re reading a book on the family, that you give it high priority. For our purposes, let’s assume the “God first, family second, career third” list is legitimate. The problem is figuring out how to base our lives on our priorities. What does it mean to say God is first? How, specifically, do we put him first?

Perhaps you, like I, have heard people say, “The two surest gauges of your priorities are your calendar and your checkbook.” Does that mean we should spend more hours alone with God than we spend with family members? Or are we serving God by doing “God’s work”? If so, then is church work the way we put God first? Or is church work our “career,” a lower priority? The question of priorities easily slides into sophistry.

In addition, the pastor is responsible for two families: the church family and his natural family. Both are given by God. Both are means of serving God. As one pastor wrote: “The New Testament order is to see family life flowing out of the life of the church. The church doesn’t need the family; the family needs the church. The family must be planted in the soil of a vital Christian community if it is to bear the fruit it was meant to bear.” Thus, to work for the health of the family, we must work for the health of the church.

Perhaps the greatest problem with the “God first, family second, career third” perspective is that real-life situations can’t be quite so neatly arranged. Responsibilities simply don’t line up first-second-third. At different times, God, family, and career must each be given our full attention. The issue becomes: When does God deserve my full attention? When does my family deserve my full attention? When does the church deserve my full attention? In practice, priorities can’t be stacked like blocks.

To put it another way, we can’t watch three shows — no matter how good — at once. So constantly we’re forced to ask, Which channel do I turn to? And for how long?

How much time should I spend alone with God? Too little time and I shrivel spiritually. But too much time alone can be an escape from other God-given responsibilities.

Likewise, too much time with family can be seen as laziness. One associate pastor repeatedly showed up late to the office and took extra days off without the board’s permission. His reason: “It’s important to me to spend time with my family.” The board members agreed wholeheartedly; they decided to relieve him of his responsibilities (and salary) so he could find another position more in line with his priorities.

On a lighter note, a recent New Yorker cartoon shows a woman hanging up the phone, her children standing around with horrified expressions. She’s saying, “Bad news, kids. Dad just quit his job to spend more time with the family.” Even family members aren’t always sure just how much they want Dad around.

And, yes, too much time can be spent on church work. “There’s nothing more intoxicating than the adrenaline released by running a smooth operation,” says Wayne Jacobsen of The Savior’s Community in Visalia, California. “I’ve been in a position where eight decisions demanded my immediate attention, with two phone calls holding and a counseling appointment in the lobby. It’s exhilarating, and the appreciation expressed by many people for our efforts is part of the brew — but the rush of personal importance has nothing to do with the affirmation of the Spirit.” No, serving the church is not necessarily serving God.

God, family, career — each is important. None can be neglected.

I asked one pastor how he balanced family time with church work, and he said, “With difficulty! Whichever one I’m concentrating on, my conscience tells me I should be spending more time on the other.”

Right now, I’m away from my family writing this book about family life, an irony that hasn’t been lost on me, nor on my wife, Susan. You, in turn, are reading this chapter, and in so doing, you are not at this moment involved in deep and meaningful interaction with your family. And yet, I’m convinced (and I trust you are, too) that this exercise is worth the investment. Both my family and yours will be strengthened because of the time we’ve put into this book.

The point of all this? Simply that it’s difficult to define when we’re serving God, when we’re serving the family, and when we’re serving our career. That’s true of pipefitters who work for the glory of God and the sustenance of their families; it’s even more true of pastors who work in the church.

The issue is not simply getting priorities in the right order; it’s fitting them together and finding room for them all. And that challenge never ends — even for a family specialist like James Dobson. “I must admit that the problem of balancing career, church, and family is a constant struggle,” he says. “It is rarely possible to realign priorities once and for all. An imbalance can occur in a matter of days. The moment I relax and congratulate myself for having practiced what I preach, I tend to say yes a few times when I should have said no — and suddenly I’m overworked again.”

Instead of seeing God, church, and family as competing demands, I find it helpful to imagine church and family as the two seats of a teeter-totter, and God as the fulcrum underneath. We aren’t expected to sit in both seats simultaneously (though we may find ourselves, like daring kids, standing somewhere in the middle with a foot on each side of the balance point). The amount of weight we need to place on either side is determined by our God-measured priorities. Where we place our energies at a particular time will vary, depending on where we’re needed most.

But all our efforts, whether with the church or our families, are undergirded by the Lord. He is the pivot point for both family life and church life.

Whether we’re concentrating on the church or focusing on the family, our task is to make the most of our efforts. There are a number of helps for maximizing our efforts in ministry. (One of them, of course, is Leadership, a journal I’m a bit partial toward.) But I’ve not found many resources directed at pastors who want to maximize their efforts with their families. So let’s turn our attention to that concern.

Copyright ©1988 Christianity Today

Be not angry that you cannot make others as you wish them to be, since you cannot make yourself as you wish to be.
Thomas á Kempis

Never sacrifice the permanent on the altar of the immediate.
Bob Krayning

When we candidated at our church,” said a pastor’s wife from Wisconsin, “I passed out cards and asked people to write what they expected of me. The answers were so diverse: inviting members into our home, chairing the women’s group, writing a column for the newsletter, teaching Sunday school, singing in the choir, directing the Christmas pageant. Some others said, ‘We expect you only to concentrate on your family so your husband is free to minister to the church.'”

She concluded, “I thought if I tried to please the Lord I’d please the church. But it doesn’t always work that way.”

Children of pastors also feel expectations. One of the most common is the need to be everyone’s friend but nobody’s best friend. The pastor of a rural church in Kansas explained that he’d recently had to have a talk with his 8-year-old daughter, Shandra. She had a special friendship with her classmate Melissa, but another girl her age in the church felt left out. The other girl’s parents complained to the pastor that Shandra was ignoring their daughter.

“Shandra wasn’t consciously ignoring the other girl,” said the pastor. “She simply felt closer to Melissa, and they did things together. But I talked with Shandra and explained the importance of making everyone in Sunday school feel welcome. She’s conscious that part of our role in the church is to help befriend everyone.”

The Odd Assortment

The surveys and interviews identified some of the commonly felt expectations — some legitimate, some difficult, some impossible:

“They expect our family to be an example. This is legitimate and not a problem except when this means there are two sets of standards: one for the pastor’s family and one for everyone else.”

“My 3-year-old is ‘the church kid,’ with an abundance of spiritual aunts and uncles. Of course being a celebrity can be both an advantage and a disadvantage. With everyone feeling like they know her, they expect her to be friendly and give everyone a hug. Sometimes after church she’s tired, and people still try to get her to say something cute.”

“Our daughters weren’t wild about being expected to bail out teachers or youth leaders stumped by theological questions. More than once they found an adult turning their way to ask, ‘What do you think? Why did God send Abraham to Israel instead of India?'”

“They expect to see parents fully in control of their children.”

“They expect our family to be fully involved in the church and fully involved in the community. They expect my wife to be very active as a teacher, worker, etc. Because my wife works a full-time job, this isn’t always possible.”

“They expect me to be at meetings I really don’t need to attend. One Christmas we were expected to attend eight Christmas parties of different groups in the church.”

“They expect my wife and kids to be at every church function. We hear about it if my wife doesn’t attend one of the ‘women’s meetings’ or if my daughter opts out of the youth social.”

“They expect us to have the answers and to meet their needs. It’s hard for them to see us in the battle also. They think we’ve graduated!”

“They expect our children to attend Christian schools.”

“They expect us to always be available — seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day — to put their needs first, and to work for low pay.”

“I’m not aware of special expectations for the family, but they expect 100 percent availability from the pastor, and toleration of their demands from the family. They don’t understand that the pastor has a legitimate obligation to spend time with family away from church activities.”

One female pastor wrote: “My spouse and I used to go away for two days, one week out of each month. I got flak for this from one woman, who told me, ‘You’re only supposed to have one day off per week. You’re gypping the church out of twelve days a year!'”

When I asked one pastor’s wife if her congregation had special expectations for her and her family, she said thoughtfully, “I don’t know if the problem is expectations so much as lack of appreciation. Whatever my children do or I do, it’s seen as what we should be doing rather than an expression of commitment and service to the church just like any other family. Somehow people think it’s easy for me to teach Sunday school, host the youth group, lead the ladies’ Bible study, and plan bridal showers — while everyone else can beg off as ‘too busy.'”

It isn’t only adults who put pressure on the pastor’s family. The kids’ peers are sometimes just as guilty. Remembers one pastor: “One of our daughters used to complain that the president of the youth group would never begin the meeting until she was there, even though she wasn’t an officer. So even though she was usually on time, attention was called to the times when she was late. She resented this, because anyone else could slip in unnoticed. I’m sure the leader was not trying to embarrass her. He just felt more comfortable when she was there to help the discussion. But my explaining that to her didn’t make her feel any better. Young people as well as adults tend to think that ministers’ kids should behave better, take more responsibility, and be, if not more spiritual, at least more knowledgeable about spiritual matters than other children.”

Sources of the Irritation

Expectations come from a variety of sources: people’s preferences, their understanding of Scripture, their previous experience with pastors’ families.

Usually the problem is not that any one person thinks the pastor’s family should do too much — it’s that there are so many different ideas of what they should do and be.

“I find very few individuals with unrealistic expectations — it’s the composite image that gets to you,” says Mike Halcomb, who pastored in Milwaukee before assuming a denominational post. “And rarely does anyone outside the pastoral family see the composite.”

Sometimes the expectations of two different people are mutually exclusive, such as when some church members expect the pastor’s teenagers to be leaders, role models, and comfortable in the spotlight — and others don’t want them getting any special considerations.

Other times the demands, while not mutually exclusive, may pull in different directions. Jim Conway describes the strain this put on him and his family:

“Our first church after seminary was in a small town where a number of our families were farmers. I decided we needed to be up and going when the farmers started their day. At least I wanted the light on in my study before dawn. But the church also had businessmen who worked into the evening hours. So it was necessary, I felt, to please them by serving late at night with various business meetings, speaking engagements, and visitation appointments.

“One day our preschool daughter said to Sally, ‘I hate the church, because it takes my daddy away from me.’ When I heard that, it was like being stabbed. I was sacrificing my family to make the church happy with me.”

Pastors and their families cannot simply dismiss expectations, refuse to be what the congregation desires, and live as they please. If they do, they quickly develop an adversarial role, becoming oversensitive to violations of their rights, which often leads to an arrogant, independent spirit that hurts their ability to minister.

Expectations are part of any relationship. “My three sons have expectations of how we spend money, how we behave, and where we take vacations,” said Mike Halcomb. “All these have to be sorted, negotiated, and discussed. And that’s the way it is in the church family, too. Ministry involves creative redefining and redirecting of expectations.”

“It’s a fine line,” says Pastor Stuart Briscoe, “and requires open communication about what may be impossible demands.”

How do pastors and their families go about walking that fine line?

Handling Expectations

It helps to admit that certain expectations are legitimate. Congregations naturally will expect the minister’s family to fit into church life. It’s also normal for church members to watch the pastor’s family as an example of Christian parents’ trying their best to raise a Christian family. And many ministry families are happy to accept these expectations.

“We need to let our congregation know we’re a normal family with normal struggles but that we’re learning to work through these trouble areas,” said a pastor’s wife. “If a pastor’s family cannot give assurance that they find hope and answers in Scripture, how can they minister?”

One pastor put it this way: “Congregations need to know, and want to know, that the pastor’s family isn’t trouble free. But they also need to know it isn’t troublesome.” Between those two poles is where we must come to terms with expectations.

It also helps to recognize that expectations aren’t all bad; some are even beneficial. Joseph Stowell reflects on the shaping influence they were on him: “I think being a pk, being in the public eye, helped forge my life. What grated against me at the time actually became a part of my training. Learning to live with people watching you, learning to show deference to people, living with people who expect more of you than they would of others—I appreciate that now.”

For him, those expectations were a plus, something to live up to. “It was training time,” said Stowell, “because the rest of my life I was going to live in this fish bowl. When I graduated from seminary, I asked my father what I should do — be an assistant pastor? He said, ‘No. Go right into the pastorate. You’ve grown up in a pastor’s home. Go for it.’ Growing up in a pastor’s home is a seminary education in itself. You develop a sixth sense for the issues of ministry.”

Pastor’s wife Bonnie Halcomb discovered that the expectations of the congregation helped her to grow. “Occasionally people make requests of me — public speaking, for instance — and I’ll think, There’s no way! That just isn’t me. And yet I pray about it, decide to give it a try, and many times discover that not through my strength but the Lord’s, I am able to. It is a growing experience (and gives me even more appreciation for my husband). Sometimes expectations push us, making us grow in ways we wouldn’t otherwise. You can’t just automatically say no. Maybe God is opening a door.”

Other expectations may be legitimate, but only a minor consideration — the way the pastor and his family dress, for example. Said one pastor: “Our society is more forgiving now than it was years ago about clothing. But I’m still sensitive, especially when someone takes me to meet business associates or to a community group. Initial impressions are important. I don’t want my dress to detract from what I’m trying to do.

“But I hope we’ve gotten past the point where smoking a pipe makes you a theologian, growing a beard makes you a counselor, or wearing pinstripes makes you authoritative. Expectations about dress are legitimate but not very substantive.”

Still other expectations, however, may not be legitimate or beneficial, and the best way to handle some of these is with laughter. “We always laugh when we think of the time we announced we would be adopting our first son,” said Bonnie Halcomb. “One little old lady came to my husband and said, ‘That’s how every pastor and his wife should have children.’ She thought pastors should be sexless!”

Expectations become dangerous when they push a family to live a lie. One mother explained, “You want to please the congregation, and since you think they expect your children to perform in a certain way, you put pressure on them to do so, often without realizing it.”

As another mother put it, “There have been times when the kids had the feeling we were more concerned about our image than we were about them.”

Blending Expectation and Acceptance

Parents have discovered a key in helping children live effectively in the church environment is blending high expectations with unconditional acceptance. Both are important. If children sense only the high expectations without the acceptance, they feel alone, beaten down. If they receive only acceptance, even for subpar behavior, they can grow up unchallenged and spoiled.

Donald Miller, who grew up in a pastor’s home and went on to become pastor of a Christian and Missionary Alliance Church in Missouri, says, “As I was growing up, I was aware I was a ‘pk,’ and often the reason was that other folks reminded me of it. If I did something that the older generation didn’t agree with, they were quick to say, ‘Now we would expect that from other children but not from the preacher’s children.’ I didn’t get that kind of admonition at home. We were just kids like everyone else. There were standards in our home that other homes didn’t have, but it was explained to us that it was because ours was a Christian home, not a preacher’s home.”

At times even preachers’ kids will argue, “But the Smith’s are Christians, and they let their kids see R-rated videos at birthday parties.”

In the face of that kind of pressure, Miller’s parents didn’t relent, but neither did they hide behind the pastoral image.

“Rather than being reminded that I was a ‘pk,’ I was reminded of the importance of our name (‘we are Millers!’). I was urged to live in such a way as not to bring shame to the name and thus to the family. So at home we were treated like the growing children we were.”

How do parents show acceptance even in the midst of expectations? One practical way is making sure the children know their parents are easily accessible — even when church work is heavy.

“My kids always stop by the church on their way home from school,” says an Iowa pastor. “I’d rather be interrupted during my office work and hear about their day than to make them feel Dad was off limits. They don’t stay long, but it seems to be important for them to be able to walk in on their own.”

Another way is to know your children’s individual personality traits and to adjust the expectations accordingly.

Hank and Mary Simon, who minister in a Lutheran church near St. Louis, have two girls, Christy and Angela.

“Christy is extremely left-brained,” says Mary. “She’s very organized, almost perfectionistic, and places very high expectations on herself. She’s the one who will come home from school, automatically get out her books, and do not only her homework but extra credit and tomorrow’s lesson, too. We don’t push her because she puts so many demands on herself. Christy is socially tentative when meeting new people.

“Angela, on the other hand, is right-brained. She doesn’t worry about details. After a spelling test, for instance, she may say, ‘I’ve got the right letters in there; they’re just a little mixed up. What’s the big deal?’ But she’s very intuitive and good with people. It’s no big deal for her to go up to people at church and give them a hug. But we’d never ask Christy to do that.”

Identifying and accepting the particular traits of family members is the essential first step in determining legitimate expectations to help them stretch.

Adjusting Expectations

At times, we learn to live with expectations. At other times, however, it’s necessary to adjust the attitudes of the congregation.

One pastor’s wife gives a concrete example of one situation most ministry families face:

“A constant interruption in our lives is the telephone. Besides the normal calls that any woman receives, the pastor’s wife must take a large number of calls for her husband. If he is not at the church, people call the house for him. If he is not here (which is usually the case), the caller often asks his question of me. Likely as not I have no idea what the problem is about, but I have to listen anyway.

“There also seem to be a number of people in every congregation who always call the parsonage first when looking for the pastor. In spite of the fact that his study is at church, they seem to have the idea that he spends his time hanging around the house. When they are told that he’s at the church, they act surprised. And the next time they call the house again.

“I have been late for appointments on many occasions because of phone calls at the last minute. I often think I should take the phone off the hook while I am preparing to leave, and quickly put it back before I go out the door. But I never do.”

One pastor’s wife, realizing her housework and other obligations were suffering, began to keep track of the time spent on calls for her husband. In one two-week period she spent an average of three hours a day listening to people who really wanted to talk to her husband.

What can be done about this kind of expectation? Can you adjust it? Of those we surveyed, 58 percent of the pastors (and 42 percent of the spouses) said they had tried to change congregational expectations for their families. How did they do it?

1. Brief the congregation. Many pastors tell the congregation they expect their family to be treated like any other family in the church — no more and no less than any other church members. This message, most often, is communicated to the search committee and the church board before accepting a call, although some pastors communicate the message even more widely.

One pastor told the entire congregation: “My biggest fear and greatest challenge is to minister well both to my family and to you in the church body. I don’t want to be forced into a situation where I must choose between the welfare of my kids and the well-being of my ministry. But I want to state publicly that if that ever were the case, I would choose for my kids. You might call it a ‘previous commitment.’ I want you to know that now.

“And secondly, I want you to know that we’re human. And that means there will be times when my kids are going to embarrass me. You can count on it. And my kids want me also to say there will be times when my behavior will embarrass them. I think that’s what they call a well-balanced family.”

This pastor has found the light-hearted reminder has been well-received and helps defuse some of the over blown expectations.

Donald Bubna, who pastors a Christian and Missionary Alliance church in British Columbia, has also been very direct with the congregations he has pastored. He reinforces his message almost annually. “My wife was raised in a parsonage, usually right next door to the church. Because of her somewhat negative experiences with that, we determined that we would be frequent in extending hospitality, but that our home would be our home, a refuge, not an extension of the church, not a place for church business. Therefore, it was not a place for phone calls unless they were of a social nature or an emergency.

“So every year at the annual meeting, after I make my report, I make a statement of appreciation for the people’s love for our family. And I’ll say something like, ‘And I want you to feel free to call me at home any time there’s an emergency and you need me. But if it’s not an emergency, please call me at the office during regular hours.’ I put it very positively. And in the last fifteen years of ministry, I’ve averaged perhaps one phone call a night. It hasn’t been a problem.”

Bubna also took steps, while his children were growing up, to neutralize the expectations on them.

“At elders’ meetings, from time to time, I’d thank the board members for accepting our children as they were and not putting pressure on them to be different from their own children. But I’d go on to say, ‘Your acceptance means so much, and so does the fact that you believe in them. You believe our children will not ultimately fail, and therefore they won’t.’ I tried to create a climate that balanced acceptance and positive expectation. And they responded well to that.”

2. Demonstrate your values. Mike Halcomb says, “I was criticized for announcing a service of house blessing soon after we bought our home. It was with Bonnie’s consent, but some women in the church thought I’d done it behind her back because we had the service before we’d cleaned thoroughly, and the house needed some fixing up.

“But we wanted to communicate something. First, our home is an extension of our ministry, a place of ministry. Second, if we wait until everything is in apple-pie order before inviting others over, we’d probably never practice hospitality. We wanted to dash right away any expectation that our home would be picture perfect. We’d rather model something else — hospitality amid the clutter of living — perhaps giving people freedom to use their own homes as places of ministry.”

3. If necessary, politely but firmly make your concerns known to key people. One Kansas pastor’s wife says, “Our daughter was always the one expected to do the prayers or devotions for church meetings and even 4-h clubs. She said she wished they’d let someone else be the ‘priestess.’ I eventually talked with the leaders and asked if they could pass the responsibility around. Fortunately, they were very understanding.”

4. Don’t live for the church alone. Most pastors periodically remind themselves, yes, God is the head of the church, but the church is not God. He is the only one worthy of our souls.

One way to keep aware of the difference between God’s interests and the congregation’s is deliberately to develop hobbies and friendships outside the local church.

“We have found other professionals, such as doctors and business people as well as pastors and laity from other churches, to be good stimulators for us. They remind us of what God is doing in the larger world,” said one pastor.

Others find that joining a computer club, a community organization, the pta, or Little League not only helps keep this perspective, but also builds significant ties to the wider community.

5. Focus on what’s truly important. It’s easy to be distracted by expectations. In his book The Little House on the Freeway, Tim Kimmel, who ministers in Arizona, has a highly personal approach to keeping perspective:

“In my desperation to remember my priorities, I have set six individually framed pictures across the upper shelf of my rolltop desk at work. The picture on the left is of the Jameson Memorial Hospital in New Castle, Pennsylvania. That’s where I was born. The picture on the right is of a six-foot-high granite monument that stands in the middle of the Graceland Cemetery just outside this same town. You can’t miss the word kimmel carved on its side. The earth beneath it conceals the remains of several generations of my family. The four pictures that sit between these two outer pictures are of Darcy (my wife), Karis, Cody, and Shiloh (my children).

“What we do for a living has a way of absorbing our attention. Its demands are so great and its ego satisfaction so intoxicating that it can easily become the focus of our lives. I love my work, but I don’t want it to become the heart of my existence — my reason for living. That’s why I have those pictures strategically placed on my desk. When I look up from my studies, I come eye level with a reminder of my purpose. Stealing a peek at them several times a day has a way of keeping my work (and my life) in proper perspective. In the brief moment it takes me to scan them I receive a message in the cluttered back rooms of my brain.

“The pictures say, ‘Don’t forget, Tim, this is where you checked in (the hospital), this is where you’re checking out (the cemetery), and these four people in the middle are why you are here.‘”

All in all, expectations benefit us when they cause us to examine our priorities, when they sensitize us to our faults, and when they bump us out of personal ruts. They harm us if they keep us from being true to the Lord or to our calling.

Copyright ©1988 Christianity Today

All happy families resemble each other; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
Leo Tolstoy

A number of ministry families can identify with the pastor’s teenage son who frequently wears a t-shirt imprinted, Property of First Church.

“It’s the only way I can express the way I feel,” he says.

Yes, we must admit that for all the advantages of raising a family in a ministry home, there are also a number of difficulties. When asked about the disadvantages of raising a family in a minister’s home, those surveyed offered wide-ranging responses:

“The telephone rings all the time, interrupting our family time.”

“My husband is never able to sit with us in worship.”

“The uncertainty of your tenure at a church.”

“There’s exposure to a spiritual atmosphere, but there can also be overexposure to failures of Christians.”

“We see the warts of everyone. Everyone sees ours. I strongly identify with the problems of being so close to God’s work and close to sin as well.”

“Always having to ‘be there’ — not able to do anything spontaneous on weekends.”

“Any trouble I get into with the congregation is magnified because I’m the pastor. My kids see their dad being attacked, or more likely, they hear from their classmates, ‘My parents think your dad really blew it — he got the Smiths really mad at him.’ Some pastors’ kids have been told, ‘Your dad ought to get out of here,’ which can be devastating.”

“Time pressure limits our opportunities for family events.”

“Sunday is never a relaxing day.”

Tolstoy said each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way, referring to the tendency of a family to feel its problems are unique. These quotations do show a variety of difficulties, but the bulk of the surveys point to concerns that most ministry families have in common.

Scrutiny by the Saints

Leaders in any field are subject to closer attention and stricter demands. Why do reporters follow the British royal family so closely? Because most Britons (and all tabloid readers) think they own the royal couple. Some people vicariously live out the fairy tale. Others feel it’s their right to know every move they make since they’re supported with public money.

Pastors and their families face some of the same dynamics.

When I asked about the drawbacks of being a pastoral family, one response I often heard was “the sense of continually being watched.”

“I usually stand with Mike as he greets people after the service,” said a pastor’s wife from Milwaukee. “One Sunday we had a guest speaker, and I figured three at the door would be a crowd, so I didn’t stand there. One lady rushed up to ask, ‘Are you having a fight with your husband?’ I never imagined I’d be giving that impression. People really watch!”

Another pastor’s wife said, “I didn’t realize how closely I was being watched until one lady told me the Sunday after Christmas, ‘We can hardly wait till this Sunday each year because we always like to see what your husband gives you for Christmas.’ They’d learned my husband enjoys giving clothes.”

The effect of this scrutiny varies from family to family. Some enjoy it; others find it tiring. Some see it as a positive influence — a challenge to live up to. Others, however, see it as a temptation: “We’re tempted to overemphasize performing the Christian life. Because people are looking at us, we sometimes feel we have to be something in public that we may not be in private.”

The scrutiny of the saints isn’t the only area that pastoral families see as the downside of ministry.

The Holy Family

Not only is the ministry family watched, but many pastoral families feel the observers are looking for something they can’t produce. Again and again, those surveyed indicated people expect their family life to be perfect.

“Our children are expected to be model children, to never have any attitude problems. We’re supposed to have it all together. But we don’t qualify for the holy family.”

When it comes to moral behavior, however, pastors’ kids can’t win: they get less credit for their virtues and more attention for their vices. Whatever they do right, it’s “because of the way you were raised.” If they do something wrong, the response is, “You, of all people, should know better.”

One pastor’s son was at a party with his high school friends. When the liquor and drugs came out and the atmosphere started to deteriorate, he decided it was time to leave. As he was thanking the host and saying his farewells, he overheard someone say, “He’s leaving because his dad’s a preacher.”

“That really irritated me,” the son said later. “It was my decision to leave, but they don’t believe that. Anything I do that’s right is explained away because of my upbringing.”

Another pastor’s son, angered at a college classmate, exploded, “All right. I don’t drink just because that’s what my parents taught me, and you do drink just because that’s what your parents allowed. Now can we talk about it intelligently?”

Even involvement in the church is somehow tainted. Some people refuse to believe a pastor’s kid would go to church because he actually wants to; surely his parents are forcing him.

Jim Conway remembers that during his pastorate in Illinois, “one of our daughters was in a time of rapid spiritual growth, and she would stand almost every Sunday evening to share something God had been teaching her.”

One night after the service, a woman came up to her and said, “We can always count on you to have something to say in the sharing time. Your dad must put you up to it.” The daughter did a slow burn.

On the other hand, when the minister’s kids are not shining examples of sainthood, that, too, can bring undue attention.

The Conway’s daughter Becki remembers an argument in school when a classmate challenged her to back up a particular point of view with Scripture. Becki couldn’t.

“You’re a preacher’s daughter, and you can’t even quote the Bible?” the antagonist sneered.

“Well, your dad’s a plumber,” Becki retorted, “and you don’t know how to sweat pipes.”

It’s a tough situation. When you’re 15, you don’t want to stand out. It’s bad to be too smart and worse to be too good. And when the courageous stands you do take are explained away as the result of parental pressure, there’s scant incentive to remain upright.

At Home in Church, Uneasy in the World

One benefit of the pastor’s home is familiarity with church life, but the flip side is that the family may feel alienated from the unchurched world. For many in the church, and even more in the outside world, the pastor’s family is a peculiar people, more holy than normal, and thus assumed to be uninterested in ordinary human life.

“Our girls sometimes found they weren’t invited to friends’ parties because ‘we know you’re a minister’s daughter and can’t come,'” said Sally Conway. “One woman apologized to me years later for not including me at Tupperware or Avon parties ‘because we thought you wouldn’t be interested in what we talk about.'”

A number of pastoral families said they deeply appreciated the significance of ministry, but the image of the minister, at least to those outside the church, was something they had to endure. Many preachers’ kids said they wanted to live up to the example of their dad’s moral character, but they had to live down what other people thought about his profession.

“I admired my dad and my granddad. Many times I thought, I want to be like them,” said a third-generation pastor. “But I sure had questions about the ministerial image: the schedule, the way people looked at you, the way they thought of you. I didn’t want to be holy all the time. I didn’t want to cough in a deeper voice.”

Another said, “I was fortunate in that Dad was very athletic. He was an all-star football player, and even now he’s very active in tennis and water skiing. So I didn’t have that image of the pastorate. My resistance was slightly different. I told myself, I’m gonna be secular. Not profane, but secular. With Christ living in me, I want to be comfortable with non-Christians. I didn’t want to be a minister who was uncomfortable in secular surroundings.”

An interesting ambivalence. So many grown children of pastors have deep appreciation for the way they were raised, yet they confess that in school, the pressure from their peers was so great that none was ready to stand up and say, “I am a pastor’s kid!” Most of the time they hoped people didn’t talk about their dad’s vocation. There was profound respect for the man, but embarrassment over the role.

“It’s a matter of cultural dissonance,” said one pastor’s son, now grown and pastoring himself in Southern California. “My comfort zone was inside the subculture of the church. From birth, I’ve been trained how to act in this environment. But the outside culture, at least in my upbringing, was presented as so bad, so evil, that I couldn’t help but be uncomfortable when I was outside church settings. Any time I heard profanity at school, I’d find myself asking the Lord to forgive me for hearing it. With this overactivated guilt mechanism, I lived a dual life, trying to straddle two cultures.

“I wish I’d understood then that some differences are largely cultural. I’ve been trying to sensitize our high school Christians to that fact, and it takes some of the stress off. I tell them, ‘You don’t have to act in a secular culture the way you act in a Christian culture. It’s okay not to use Christian vocabulary in a secular culture. What you’re doing is almost missionary work. You have to learn cross-cultural communication.’ Had I know that in high school, I think I could have existed better with a sense of cultural relevance instead of seeing everything as necessarily a spiritual compromise.”

“The term now is nerd. I don’t know what it was then, maybe clod or square, but whatever it was, I didn’t want to be one,” said H. B. London, another pastor who was raised in a pastor’s home. “I would do anything not to be square or nerdish — to the point of rejecting many of the things I knew better. As an only child, I didn’t have anybody at home who was facing these things with me. So my peer acceptance was not at home; not even at church, because those people didn’t matter to me that much. It was at school where it seemed so important that I was accepted. I did not want to be a nerd.” And to be the son or daughter of a pastor is, unfortunately, still seen by some as being culturally out of touch.

Perhaps this ambivalence goes back to society’s sliding evaluation of the office of pastor. At one time, the ministry was one of the most respected professions. These days, when they rank the prestigious professions, ministers don’t even make the list. So family members move from the church, where their relationship with the pastor brings a measure of respect, to the outside culture, where if people find out they’re related to a pastor, they tend to be put off.

The Concentration Trap

A person with rigid work hours looks at the pastor’s freedom and says, “Boy, I wish I had that flexibility.” But the blessing also has its down side. A pastor is never really off duty. A minister can’t punch a timecard at 5 p.m. and say, “Well, that’s all for today.” He’s never free of responsibility. The issues of ministry — the next sermon, an upcoming confrontation, a counseling situation — stick in the back of his mind, even when trying to enjoy time with the family.

This can lead to a condition of “physically present but mentally absent.” Pastors aren’t the only ones afflicted by this condition, of course, but it does seem to be an occupational hazard of ministry.

One pastor’s son recalls: “There were several times when Dad and I would be playing catch, enjoying one another’s company, and suddenly the phone would ring. Dad would answer, and I’d wait for him to come back out. Sometimes he wouldn’t, and the game was over. Other times he’d come back out, and we’d throw the ball some more, but something was different. He was there, but his mind wasn’t. I figured it had something to do with the phone call. I came to hate the sound of a telephone ringing. More often than not, it seemed, it cost me my dad.”

Feeling Used

Yet another reality of being a pastoral family: being in demand. While that can be affirming, it also has its difficulties.

One pastor said, “My wife struggles with loneliness. The worst part is that whenever someone in the congregation befriends her, she’s never sure if it’s genuine friendship or if, after a while, the person will say, ‘Don’t you think we really need to renovate the nursery’ (or start a program for the handicapped, or paint the sanctuary, or hire a youth director, or …).”

For the pastor’s family, it’s sometimes hard to know if people genuinely like you or if you’re being set up. Even if people aren’t actually trying to get something, often members of the pastor’s family wonder if they’re liked for who they are or for what they represent.

“My wife and I were taken out for a nice dinner and play by a couple in the church,” said one pastor. “We thoroughly enjoyed the evening, but within a week, we heard from five different families, ‘How was My Fair Lady?’ or ‘I hear you got together with the Lindquists. Aren’t they nice folks?’ It was obvious the Lindquists had managed to let the word out that they had done something special for the pastor’s family.”

The pastor concluded, “We felt used. We talked it over and decided that as soon as it becomes apparent that someone is publicizing his ‘special relationship’ with our family, we won’t accept any more invitations from that person.”

Some might view that as an oversensitive reaction, but to one degree or another, most pastoral families can easily relate to the feeling of being used.

Making the Most of the Ministry

Randy Pope grew up as the son of a dentist, and as he reflects on his upbringing, he lends some perspective to the experience of ministry families.

“When I was growing up, my father was a dentist. And dentistry, I learned later, is one of the professions with the highest rates of suicide. I don’t know all the reasons why, but I can imagine some: you have to take out large loans to get started, you’re forced to do precise work in a very confined area (a mouth), you inflict pain and discomfort, people dread seeing you, you’re rarely paid promptly.

“But I never heard my dad say anything negative about his profession. I only heard him talk about the benefits: ‘Isn’t it great that I don’t get called in the middle of the night like surgeons do?’ ‘I’m sure thankful people don’t die from dental problems.’ ‘Dentistry is a great way to help people.’ ‘I’m really fortunate to be a dentist.'”

Randy says, “As a result of my dad’s outlook, there was a time in my adolescence when I wanted to be a dentist, not because I knew anything about it but because my dad had convinced me it was a privilege.”

Randy Pope did not become a dentist, however. He’s a pastor — at Perimeter Church in Atlanta. But he’s trying to do for his children what his father did for him —to show them that the work he does is not a problem but a privilege.

Copyright ©1988 Christianity Today

If you wish to leave much wealth to your children, leave them in God’s care. Do not leave them riches, but virtue and skill. For if they learn to expect riches, they will not mind anything besides, and their abundant riches shall give them the means of screening the wickedness of their ways.
John Chrysostom

What are the advantages of raising a family in a pastor’s home?

A couple of years ago, I had the chance to sit down with James Dobson, perhaps the best-known champion of the family in the contemporary Christian world, and ask him about his days as a preacher’s kid. I was curious whether his experiences in the church were positive or negative.

His reply: “Very positive. The church was the center of our social life, and I felt loved and accepted by this extended ‘family.’ That little body of believers provided an unshakable foundation of values and understanding, which I still hold firmly today. I was three years old when I voluntarily knelt and gave my heart to the Lord, and I’m still grateful for the teachings I received in those early years.”

Church life, however, has changed dramatically in the last generation. What about the differences between the family life he experienced growing up in a small church in Oklahoma and family life in the large Southern California congregation he’s involved in now? Is the small church or the large church more conducive to family life?

“Each has its own contribution to make,” Dobson replied. “Some people thrive better in a crowd, and they need the programs and specialists that can be provided only in a large church community. Adolescents, for example, are driven by this ‘urge to herd,’ and they feel more secure with large numbers of their peers.

“On the other hand, some people need the intimacy and personal touch of a small church family. In my own life, it was this sense of being known and cared for in a small church that hooked me into the fellowship. The warmth I felt there compensated for the lack of sophistication in program and personnel.”

Whether in a large or small church, pastors find that there are distinct advantages to raising a family in a ministry home. Here are some of the perks identified in the survey.

Flexible Hours

The first advantage many pastoral families mention is a flexible work schedule.

“I never missed one of my son’s soccer games,” said a pastor from Massachusetts. “The great benefit of a pastor’s schedule is that you can juggle appointments, plan to work some nights, and be free in the afternoon to watch soccer. The lawyer, the physician, and the stockbroker couldn’t be there, but I was.”

A pastor’s wife from California said, “I work four days a week outside the home. Usually I have Tuesdays off, so my husband, whose schedule is flexible, can also take Tuesdays as his day off. We spend most Tuesdays at home, although sometimes we go out to eat or play tennis. As I look back, I realize we have had our most serious talks about ourselves, our marriage, the family, and our future on those days. We have worked out more problems during those times than any other. I don’t get much ‘house’ work accomplished, but I do get a lot of ‘home’ work done.”

Spiritual Role Models

One of the survey respondents said, “Children have a model of involved church members in their parents. We constantly have people in our home whom we want our kids to know.”

A pastor’s wife elaborated on this fringe benefit: “Because my husband is a pastor, we’ve had people in our home whom our children never would have had the benefit of knowing otherwise: African pastors, missionaries to Brazil, evangelists, other preachers. Our kids have been able to talk to them, play games with them, and find out more about the world and what makes people tick.”

But there are other spiritual role models for ministry families. Joseph Stowell, prior to becoming president of Moody Bible Institute, was a pastor, the son of a pastor, and the grandson of a pastor. When I asked him about the advantages of his upbringing, he said, “One of my best memories is having great Bible teachers around our dining room table: M. R. DeHaan, Sidlow Baxter, and others. I remember one meal when Frank Logsdon, former pastor of Moody Church, leaned over to me and said, ‘God has given you a great daddy.’ That stuck with me. I felt like, My dad’s a good guy, an important person.“

Sometimes the role models weren’t those you would have expected. Chuck Smith, Jr., who also grew up in a ministry home before becoming a pastor himself, said, “My fondest memory is having godly people in our home who were so animated and enthusiastic when they talked about the Lord. Their devotion to the Lord and the ministry made me feel like this was the most important subject in life. One time my dad had been at a pastor’s conference and met four colleagues. This was kind of out of character for him, but Dad spontaneously invited them over to the house. It was stimulating to me because they weren’t sharing statistics about who had the most people in their churches; they were sharing their common commitment to Christ.” That experience was powerful enough to be remembered twenty-five years later.

Often one of the best role models is the pastor himself. Family members see, up close and personal, a person whose life is committed to ministry.

“My son gets to see me at work,” said a pastor in New Hampshire. “He gets to share some of the pressure and ethos of leadership, and he sees me interact with people in our home. And when I’m able to be vulnerable and transparent, he sees times in my life when I’m both elated and discouraged. Not all children are able to be so close to their parents’ vocations.”

Richard Strauss, who pastors in Escondido, California, experienced that from the other side as the son of prominent pastor and speaker Lehman Strauss. “I enjoyed the fact that my dad was respected. I mean, here was a man standing in the pulpit teaching the Word of God, and people were listening and writing things down, and their lives were being changed. And that was my dad! I was a retiring child, not outgoing at all. Dad was such a strong personality that he overshadowed those around him. But I didn’t resent that. I felt like some of the respect people felt for him trickled down to me. Part of my identity was being his son.”

Another pastor’s son, now grown, said, “I remember sometimes on the way home from church I would ask my dad a question that perplexed me about the Bible or the church. I remember thinking (though I never would have admitted it to my dad) that it was great to have this kind of exclusive access to him for my questions.”

Richard Strauss also remembers: “My dad had his study at home, and one day I walked past his study and heard him talking. I knew there wasn’t anybody in there. I thought, Who’s Dad talking to? So I sat down and listened. He was praying.

“I sat there for ten or fifteen minutes and listened. That was a moving experience, and after that, every once in a while if I knew he was praying, I’d sit outside his door and listen. That’s something that’s grown more meaningful now than it was at the time.”

Atmosphere

The atmosphere a family experiences in ministry can also be invigorating.

Part of this is simply a natural effect of a ministry environment. “After thirty-four years of married life and three grown children, God has given us a close family, and we didn’t really work on it being so,” said an Evangelical Free Church pastor. “It seems to be a by-product of intensely living for and serving God. All three children walk with God, love us, and love each other. I love my work as a pastor — and my family could see that and seemed to benefit from that.”

Another part of this is due to the experiences any pastor has. “In our counseling, we learn from others who have made mistakes,” said a Lutheran pastor in Iowa. “From being involved in so many other family situations, I gain insights for my own family.”

In addition, the atmosphere of the worshiping community can have a positive effect. Preacher’s-kid-turned-preacher Joe Stowell tells the story: “When my own children started coming along, I asked my dad, ‘Why do you think all three of your children went into the ministry?’

“‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Your mother and I can’t take credit for it. We think it’s because the church in Hackensack, New Jersey, consistently prayed for you children. In prayer meetings, people would pray aloud for you by name.’

“I attribute that to the fact that my behavior drove ’em to their knees,” Joe said with a laugh. “But I do think as pastors’ kids, we may have more prayer poured into our lives than other kids.”

In addition, the surveys revealed other atmospheric elements in a ministry home that benefit a family.

“We share in the love some parishioners have for their pastor. While we’ve suffered from some of the ‘alligators’ in the church, people with ego problems, our family has greatly benefited from the love of caring people.”

“We have lots of people willing to baby-sit and be ‘grandparents’ for our kids. They give special attention to PK’S.”

“The church body provides a good moral climate.”

“We enjoy a spiritual atmosphere within the home that is lived on a practical, day-to-day basis. My children not only play ‘school,’ they also play ‘church.’ At least at this point in their lives, they appreciate the role of pastor.”

“We have plenty of exposure to books that enrich the home.”

“Because of our involvement at church, it’s easier to talk about our faith and values.”

A number of pastors’ wives identified teamwork with their husbands as one of the joys of being a pastor’s wife. Not many professions allow the entire family to share work to the degree a pastor’s family can share ministry — seeing one another working, contributing to the common cause.

These atmospheric conditions are conducive to growing a healthy family.

More Than the Material World

Finances are commonly seen as a drawback to life in ministry. But often it’s not the salary itself that causes problems; it’s the contrast with the rest of the congregation. The pastor’s salary is usually on the low side of the congregational bell curve.

This creates some unusual pressures. Despite their more modest income, the pastor’s family is expected to dress as well, give the kids as many opportunities, dine out as often, and entertain as often or more so than more affluent parishioners. There’s pressure to join in the expensive activities.

“We can manage our money to meet our needs, but we’re surrounded by affluence in which we cannot share,” one pastor said.

Pastors, by and large, seem able to handle the disparity reasonably well. It’s a greater challenge for their families. “My voluntary vow of poverty becomes my family’s involuntary vow of poverty,” says New England pastor Henry Brinton. An Alban Institute study found that half the clergy spouses polled had a major concern about finances. It appears that wives are often more concerned about finances than their husbands are.

Pastor’s wife Mary Bouma reflects on why wives may feel more pressure than pastors: “Perhaps it’s because we have more of an appreciation for nice things. Probably it’s because we’re forced to spend a lot of our time working with material things. It usually falls to us to decorate the house and keep it clean, plan the family wardrobes and keep them in repair. So it is part of our job to work with possessions, and it is often hard not to desire nicer ones, especially when people all around us have things nicer than ours.”

Children of the parsonage can also feel the pinch. Tim Stafford, who grew up the son of a Presbyterian minister, observed, “A pastor’s kids grow up surrounded by people who have slightly nicer cars and bigger houses than they do. Money to a kid, in case you’ve forgotten, conveys status. When you’re fourteen, status is virtually all there is.”

Despite the financial pressures, a significant number of survey respondents indicated the emphasis on spiritual priorities outweighed the money problems. The entire family learns quickly and clearly that there is more to life than material goods.

“Our kids see actual ministry going on all the time. And because we’re on support status in a church-planting situation, they’re learning early to trust God and to pray for our needs,” said a pastor’s wife from California.

Another pastor’s wife said, “Our children have experienced what many youngsters today miss: they learned they couldn’t have everything they wanted while growing up. This has enabled them to go without their ‘wants’ if there wasn’t enough money to provide them.”

Businessman Fred Smith was raised in a pastor’s home in the inner city of Nashville, Tennessee. He recalls the lasting impression it made on him.

“Most pastors’ families, I suspect, face squarely the constant juxtaposition of the spiritual and the material. Ours certainly did. Our home existed for the spiritual welfare of the church. I never heard business discussed, for example, until I left home at age 21. I had to gain all my business knowledge as an adult (and felt envious of the children of executives — just as those who come to Christ later in life often envied us preachers’ kids our Bible knowledge).

“And yet, the material side of life was a continual struggle. When I asked why our family didn’t eat in restaurants more often, Dad would say, ‘A minister’s family makes certain sacrifices. Eating out is not bad. But our family is centered on spiritual things, not material.’ As kids, we always knew heaven was as real to Mom and Dad as earth.”

Making the financial situation an advantage or a drawback hinges on the parents’ attitude. Again, Tim Stafford reflects: “Pastors’ kids often feel poor. Sometimes they pick up those feelings from their parents, who tend to be well-educated, ambitious, verbal people who might make more money in other jobs. Some parents, conscious of their sacrifice, mention it. Their children, who may not recall a word of the good spiritual counsel they are getting, remember the remarks about money.

“As a child, I was reasonably normal, and I felt our lack of status. But, remarkably enough, I never felt that we were truly poor.… I can remember the many times I had to get out to push the old car out of the parking space — it didn’t go into reverse, and we had no money to pay a mechanic. But I cannot remember ever feeling poor.”

The key, Stafford says, was his parents’ aggressive posture: Instead of talking about their lack, they focused on what they had. They tried to help their kids believe they were enjoying the finest things of life: books, music, camping, baseball games. “We thought we were better off than people who had to buy big cars and steaks to enjoy life.

“Giving helped, too. An early, vivid memory of mine is of my mother late one night writing out checks to various Christian organizations. ‘Tithing makes me feel so rich,’ she said to me as she looked up. ‘We have all this money to give away.'”

It was her attempt, a successful attempt, to tranform the material side of ministry from a drawback to a definite benefit.

Relocation

Like those in the military, families in ministry face the distinct possibility, even likelihood, of frequent relocation. This is often cited as a drawback to life in the ministry. As one survey respondent said, “Frequent moves make it hard to maintain close friendships.” Others pointed to the sense of rootlessness felt by children who have moved often. When they go to college and people ask where they’re from, they’re at a loss. They usually respond with the place where their parents currently live, even when that place doesn’t feel like home.

A pastor’s wife described a vivid impression: “My husband recently accepted a call that meant moving all the way across the country. Since we had been in our previous church twelve years, our twelve-year-old had never known another home. When we began to consider positions in different parts of the country, it all sounded exciting to her. She was cheerful throughout the move and settling into the new house and school.

“The first clue that things might not be as they appeared came a week later when I helped her hang her mirror. She insisted on having each piece of furniture exactly the way it had been in her previous room. When I asked why, she answered that she had read in a magazine article that this was one way to minimize the trauma of a move. I found it rather poignant that this child, who was only beginning to emerge from little girlhood, was matter-of-factly setting about to ‘minimize her trauma.'”

But while this area, like finances, may be a disadvantage in some ways, in other ways it is seen by many pastoral families as an advantage.

When moves are contemplated, pastors are able to weigh the impact upon their families. They often have some choice in the matter of location. In the Leadership survey, 77 percent of pastors said that family considerations entered into their accepting a call to a particular church. Some of the factors included being near extended family, a particular school setting, job opportunities for the pastor’s spouse, and families in the area with children approximately the ages of the pastor’s children.

Some pastoral families have sacrificed salary and the prestige of a larger congregation for other factors that would help their families.

“We left our church in the Chicago suburbs and moved to a smaller church here in New Hampshire,” said one pastor, “because I didn’t like what the suburbs were doing to our 8-and 10-year-old. We would give them $3 a week allowance. Their friends at school would get $20 a week. Their friends were into designer clothes and ‘sleep-overs’ that usually included a violent horror movie on video. They made anyone with different values feel outcast.

“Plus,” said the pastor, “I’m not a city person. All I know to do in the city is go to a museum, a mall, or a movie. Our family enjoys camping, backpacking, canoeing, swimming, skiing. Those have been the settings of our best family moments — when we’d enjoy just talking. It’s easier to do those things in our current church. Our move hasn’t solved all the problems, of course, but we’re much happier here.”

One of the advantages of the pastorate: many times it’s possible to change locations for the benefit of the family.

A Close Look at God’s Work

“My children are exposed to the reality of God’s grace in the lives of others,” said one pastor. “People share burdens and problems with us, problems they wouldn’t share with anyone else. We’re able to pray for people, counsel them, and see God work miracles in their lives.”

The task of growing spiritually is continually reinforced in a ministry home. Consider these survey responses:

“We’re challenged constantly to improve spiritually.”

“Everywhere I’ve been, my presence as the minister’s wife has caused people to think of their spiritual condition. Some have taken positive steps toward the Lord. I’ve been able to have an influence with certain people that I never would have had as a layperson.”

In addition, pastors’ families are often involved in ministry, which can offer special rewards. One pastor’s wife wrote, “Our whole family goes once a week to visit folks in the nursing home. This has multiple blessings: the kids realize the value of older adults and develop more love and respect for them, and they also experience the love that comes from ministry. We all enjoy seeing the faces in the home light up when we arrive.”

Jim and Sally Conway, who pastored for many years in Illinois, said, “We recently asked our kids, all of them now grown and living on their own, what they liked best about growing up in a pastor’s family. They all said they appreciated their ‘insider’s perspective’ — seeing mom and dad in ministry yet also being real people who got discouraged, angry, and needed forgiveness like anyone else.”

Chuck Smith, Jr., said, “One thing I took for granted that I’ve come to appreciate now that I’m a pastor is the intimacy with God and his Word that our family enjoyed. Our constant orientation was toward God. That’s where we sought our solutions; that’s how we addressed life. So when I was sick, and there was a period in my childhood when I was sick quite a bit, I just expected my grandmother to put her hand on my forehead and pray for me. I came to expect spiritual ministry as well as medical attention.

“My wife is still somewhat uncomfortable praying aloud. But for me, having grown up this way, praying extemporaneously is a natural expression. I’ve appreciated the fact that I feel at home in Scripture and in the presence of God. Part of that is due to the environment in which I was raised.”

These advantages shine brightly, and it helps to review them, especially when the corresponding disadvantages occasionally cloud our view.

Copyright ©1988 Christianity Today

Spiritual leadership begins at home. In dealing with the family, remember that you have been blessed by the Lord, not beatified. Don’t expect them to stop asking you to carry out the garbage.
Paul W. Carlson

What is a healthy, hectic home? What does one look like?

Consider these four snapshots from ministry families, three of them historic, one contemporary.

Despite appearances, being a Christian leader does not eliminate family strife. Husband-and-wife arguments over ministry issues are at least as old as Moses and Zipporah.

William and Catherine Booth, for instance, founders of The Salvation Army, were both highly opinionated. Before their marriage, Catherine set four rules to govern their relationship: (1) never have secrets; (2) never have separate purses; (3) talk out differences to secure harmony rather than pretend differences don’t exist; (4) never argue in front of the children.

The fact that two of the four refer directly to differences of opinion is not insignificant. Only eight months into their marriage, Catherine wrote a letter to a friend, praising her husband’s preaching: “My precious William excelled himself and electrified the people. You would indeed have participated in my joy and pride could you have heard and seen what I did. Bless the Lord, O my soul.”

The next paragraph, however, was written with bolder, less refined, penmanship: “I have just come into the room where my dear wife is writing this precious document and, snatching the paper, have read the above eulogistic sentiments. I just want to say that this very same night she gave me a certain lecture on my blockheadism, stupidity, etc., and lo, she writes to you after this fashion. However, she is an increasingly precious treasure to me, despite the occasional dressing down.”

Has there ever existed a ministry family that didn’t lament the heavy time demands? More than four hundred years ago, Martin and Katherine Luther struggled with his need to be gone so much.

Once while he was traveling, Luther wrote home: “To the saintly, worrying Lady Katherine Luther, doctor at Zulsdorf [the home of her inherited farm] and Wittenberg, my gracious, dear wife. We thank you heartily for being so worried that you can’t sleep, for since you started worrying about us, a fire broke out near my door, and yesterday, no doubt due to your worry, a big stone, save for the angels, would have fallen and crushed me like a mouse in a trap. If you don’t stop worrying, I’m afraid the earth will swallow us. Pray, let God worry.”

Katie, at times, also struggled with Martin’s presence. He would often have students around the dinner table, plying him with questions and taking notes, while Katie would sit at the far end surrounded by the children. When she found out the students intended to publish their notes, she wanted to charge them for their note-taking privileges. Martin refused. Eventually the students published 6,596 entries in their various versions of Table Talks. If Katie had had her way, she would have had a guilder for each.

Martin’s sense of humor was often called on in domestic situations. “I would not exchange Katie for France or Venice,” he said, although once, after Katie had contradicted him in front of dinner guests, he said, “If I should ever marry again, I should hew myself an obedient wife out of stone.”

But Martin deeply valued family life. Before his marriage, he sometimes spoke of matrimony as a necessity for the flesh. Afterward, he saw it as an opportunity for the spirit. And he often quoted the saying, “Let the wife make her husband glad to come home, and let him make her sorry to see him leave.” Separation only increased Martin and Katherine’s appreciation of a healthy home.

Most ministry families have a love/hate relationship with sermon preparation. They realize how essential — and how demanding — it is. And they often find themselves playing a part, intentionally or otherwise, in a sermon’s development, as Susie Spurgeon, wife of the prominent London pulpiteer, discovered late one night.

Charles Spurgeon would finish preparing his sermons on Saturday night. One evening things did not go well. He mulled over a text for hours. He had consulted commentaries, prayed, jotted down ideas that didn’t go anywhere, and now was becoming frustrated. “I was as much distressed as he was,” said Susie, “but I could not help him.… At least, I thought I could not.”

Finally, Susie urged him to go to bed. She would wake him at dawn. He would be able to think more clearly then.

But during the night, Susie heard him talking in his sleep. She listened. It wasn’t gibberish. “Soon I realized that he was going over the subject … and was giving a clear and distinct exposition of its meaning with much force and freshness.… If I could but seize and remember the salient points, he would have no difficulty in developing and enlarging upon them.”

She lay in bed, “repeating over and over again the chief points,” and fell asleep about the time she was supposed to waken Charles.

When he awoke and noticed the time, he was irritated. “You promised to waken me very early. See the time! Why did you let me sleep? I don’t know what I’m going to do this morning.”

Then Susie told him what had happened during the night and repeated to him the main points he had made in his sleep.

“You mean I preached that in my sleep?” He could hardly believe it. “That is just what I wanted. That’s the true explanation of the text.” From the explanation Susie furnished, Charles went into the pulpit and preached a powerful sermon.

Little wonder, then, that when missionary David Living-stone once asked Spurgeon, “How do you manage to do two men’s work in a single day?” without a pause, Charles responded, “You have forgotten that there are two of us, and the one you see the least of often does the most work” — a response that could be echoed a great number of pastors’ homes today.

More recently, Episcopal rector John Yates of The Falls Church in Falls Church, Virginia, tells a story that shows how family life can directly affect the worship hour itself:

“Young children don’t take Communion in our congregation, but they do come to the rail, kneel, and receive a blessing from the pastor (in this case, me). When my twin daughters were four years old, they came to the rail, and I laid my hands on the first and quietly began to recite, ‘Susie, may the Lord bless you and keep you …’ Other people were kneeling nearby during this reverent moment.

“In the midst of my blessing, she suddenly exclaimed loudly, ‘Daddy, I’m Libby, not Susie!’ The whole congregation looked up, startled, and then burst out laughing.

“Afterward the senior warden, the man who heads our board, said to my wife, ‘I know we expect John to work hard, but I think we need to help him find more time to be with his family.'”

What can we make of these brief snapshots of life in ministry homes?

We immediately recognize that ministry families are not flawless. But flawed doesn’t necessarily mean unhealthy. The goal of ministry-oriented homes is not perfection but faithfulness.

Another fact that quickly emerges is that healthy ministry families don’t all look alike. If anything is clear in the results of the research for this book, it’s that there is no single, right way to structure family life in ministry. The models are as diverse as the personalities of each parent and child. This book reflects the diversity of roles and strategies developed by today’s pastoral families. But two things they share: a commitment to minister and a commitment to build a healthy home.

Gigi Tchividjian, who grew up in a ministry home as the daughter of Billy Graham, tells about a conversation with her 4-year-old son in which they were discussing what a home was. His conclusion: “A home is a place where you come in out of the rain.”

That’s not a bad definition for any home, but for ministry families, it’s the essential goal: to make the home a place of security, warmth, and reassurance — not only for the members of the congregation, but for family members as well. The following chapters point the way to that kind of ministry home.

Copyright ©1988 Christianity Today

Burnout victims start out full of fire and good intentions, but their efforts are not repaid in kind. The reality is that it is difficult to help people.
Paul Chance

And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart.
Galatians 6:9

Faithful lay workers — the unsung heroes of every church, the people whose active participation makes ministry possible. We motivate them to reach out, to meet the needs of others, but sometimes these stalwarts run the risk of burnout. Our most reliable workers could be the next people out the back door if we neglect a few basic rules of lay ministry.

From her own volunteer experiences both good and bad, Virginia Vagt, a homemaker and active lay worker, describes the kind of ministry that led her to burnout and leaving one church, and the different kind of ministry in another church that proved fruitful and enjoyable and kept her excited over the long haul. The principles she learned from these vastly different experiences show how we can keep our unsung heroes enthusiastically active in the work of the local church.

I don’t want to go to church tomorrow, I remember moaning to myself Saturday after Saturday during my final months at Resurrection Church. It wasn’t the pastor, his sermons, or a lack of warmth in the congregation that caused me to dread driving up the church’s gravel driveway every Sunday.

Being 26 years old and trying to find my place in church life, my problem was that I was in over my head in a program called Women’s Outreach. The founder of this program, Margaret Schiller, did lay mission work in Honduras every summer with her dentist husband. Her lifelong commitment to outreach was exciting. When she asked me to be one of her workers, to make weekly visits to a poverty-stricken young widow, I eagerly said yes. The extrovert in me and my need to find a meaningful ministry seemed to have found a good match.

Margaret put me in touch with Lisa, who lived with her 2-year-old son in a nearby low-income apartment building. What exactly was I supposed to do in my visits with Lisa? Other than “befriend her,” I didn’t know, but I felt reassured; Margaret told me the Lord would lead me.

At first, the dreary apartment building with its dark halls didn’t deter me. Lisa would open the thin, scuffed door each Saturday and offer me her warm smile. For several weeks we just sat and talked the way new friends do. Lisa seemed grateful to see me, and I felt I was doing God’s work.

As I drove back and forth, however, I questioned myself: What is my purpose? Is Lisa’s life supposed to turn around and improve because I visit her? Is Lisa supposed to become a Christian through my friendship? Should I convince her to come to church? With no answers, I just waited to see what would happen.

As the weeks went by, Lisa came up with all sorts of things she wanted me to do. One was baby-sitting for Danny, her son, while she and her cousin went off for an hour — or most of the day! It was unsettling not knowing how long I’d be alone with Danny in that apartment. On other occasions, Lisa asked me to drive her places so she could shop and visit. I never knew how long we’d be gone or where exactly we’d be going.

On some Saturdays, five or six of Lisa’s friends and cousins would come over. Men would sit together on the plastic-upholstered couch while the women talked and laughed and looked at me as I played with Danny. On those days I felt conspicuous, outnumbered, and filled with self-doubt.

In frustration I wanted to say, “I didn’t come here to baby-sit for you, drive you places, or be a specimen for your friends to look at.” Before the words could come out, however, I answered them myself: Then why did you come here? Since I didn’t know, how was Lisa supposed to know?

On Sundays, in the church basem*nt next to the coffee pot and Styrofoam cups, Margaret would ask me how my visits with Lisa were going. I wanted to have a good report, to be able to say I was being helpful to Lisa or “We’re making progress.”

I felt too guilty to say to Margaret, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m afraid of being in Lisa’s apartment building. And I wish I never had to go back.” Instead I said, “Well, I don’t really know what to say or do specifically, and I feel a little lost.”

Margaret responded with suggestions. One was for me to teach Lisa how to shop for values and not waste money on junk food. Theoretically, that was a good suggestion. Lisa did need to learn things like that. But I never felt comfortable suggesting to Lisa that I knew how to shop and she didn’t.

Margaret also suggested that I do a Bible study with Lisa. A Bible study sounded good; that was the kind of thing I had imagined we’d do together. And yet, which one? How would I start? If I found a good one, would Lisa think I was turning the tables on her, setting my own agenda? The Bible study never happened.

At the two-month point, I felt panicky about visiting Lisa. Without any goals or guidelines, the program was always in her hands. I felt caught between the possibility of Lisa’s rejecting me and Margaret’s feeling I was “not a good Christian.” I was also unhappy that my Saturdays were being eaten up by a rocky friendship in which I had no real sense that the Lord was leading me.

Looking back on it, there are many things I should have done differently. But it was early in my adulthood and early in my experience in church work. Back then, I thought that if someone was in need, God wanted me to “give till it hurt.” While I still believe there’s some truth to that, my problem wasn’t giving too much or too little but not knowing what I was doing and not having any hope that the situation would improve.

So, one Saturday, after sixteen weeks of visits, I said good-by to Lisa, and powered by the twin engines of guilt and fear, I never went back to Resurrection Church — and never said good-by to Margaret, the pastor, or anyone else in the congregation. My guilt came from feeling I had failed. The fear was that Margaret would talk me into giving it another try.

The one thing I knew was that I wasn’t going to visit Lisa anymore.

Immature of me? Yes. Cowardly? Yes. And I doubt the pastor at Resurrection Church ever knew or even guessed why I left.

Learning How to Do Church Work

After my flight from Resurrection and several years of church hopping, my new husband, Peter, and I landed at a little stone church called St. Mark’s. We attended for ten straight weeks and received a warm pastoral visit followed by a phone call. Would we like to team teach the high school Sunday school class?

Peter was a high school teacher, so that was a good fit, but I had never taught any kind of class. In spite of my lack of experience, however, panic didn’t set in. Teaching together sounded like a good idea.

The “good idea” stretched into a four-year success experience. In addition to teaching, we took the kids on retreats and spent time with them after church. Peter and I grew spiritually. By having to prepare material for them, we learned more Bible ourselves than we ever would have on our own. The high school kids even christened us “the sunshine family.” It felt good to get that kind of affirmation from kids. We kept asking ourselves, “Why is this week-after-week, time-consuming commitment working so well?”

As I look back, these are some of the factors that made our teaching at St. Mark’s work well, and that by their absence had made my involvement in Women’s Outreach a failure.

Someone to learn from. At St. Mark’s, I wasn’t thrown into cold water without a life preserver. Peter already knew how to teach. He knew what he was doing and was there to help me week after week. I could observe him in action before I had to do the same thing myself.

Going slowly. That first Sunday morning when large and small teenagers began to walk into our classroom, I felt scared. But in those early days, Peter let me solo for just five minutes at a time. As the weeks went by, I took ten-minute segments, then fifteen, and so on until I was able to take half the class time.

Regular debriefing. Each week we’d go home and talk over how our teaching went. Skits didn’t work, but drawing posters on the spot to generate discussion did. With our weekly postmortems, failures became something to learn from and laugh about together. Successes made us glow.

The buddy system. For Peter, an experienced teacher, working with a novice had additional rewards. He wasn’t just given another group of kids to teach. Instead, he also gained the satisfaction of sharing what he knew about teaching. He saw someone else — me — start to succeed as a teacher as a result of his modeling.

A supervisor to help. When we both ran into problems, the Sunday school superintendent was available for consultation. Teaching Christian sexual ethics to teenagers on Sunday morning, for example, wasn’t something we felt confident about. Our superintendent spent several evenings on the phone helping us plan our approach. She kept in touch when she knew we were struggling or trying something different.

Avoiding a rut and passing the baton. Forgive the mixed metaphor, but after four years, it seemed time for a break. We could tell we had lost our freshness with high schoolers. Both of us were being asked to take on other church responsibilities, too. So we asked if we could train other adults to take our place.

The idea was accepted. Before packing up our magic markers and discussion-starter games, we met with other adults who wanted to begin working with high schoolers. At the close of our teaching years, we both had the satisfaction of training others the way Peter had trained me.

A Lesson in Burnout Prevention

Eight years after leaving Women’s Outreach, I began ministry visits to another woman. But this time, our visits worked. As with the above Sunday school teaching, the secret was in training and ongoing support. Without that, I might have thrown up my hands with Sarah, a tired 82-year-old caught in the crucible of old age.

The primary source of help to me in this instance was our local senior citizen center’s “friendly visitor” program. The program gave me guidelines and people to call when I wasn’t sure what to do, such as how to be helpful to Sarah during the week she moved from her duplex to a nursing home.

As a result of monthly volunteer meetings and the program guidelines, I’ve been able to maintain my commitment, listen and smile to a lonely person, and be a fresh face in the world of the elderly. This time, we do talk about God and Christ, and we pray for each other’s needs. It just took time.

Perhaps there would be less burnout if more churches could adopt some of the training and support techniques that volunteer organizations often use and that Peter and I unconsciously discovered at St. Mark’s. Here are some of the important principles I saw in action at the friendly visitor program:

Screening. Before becoming a friendly visitor, I was interviewed. The director wanted to know why I wanted to minister in this way. Apparently most volunteers do want to help people, but they also need to feel the work is satisfying to them. If they don’t, they’ll quit.

My motives were wanting to improve my listening and empathic skills. Also, being without extended family in this state, I wanted a relationship with an older person. I saw it, too, as part of my Christian responsibility to visit those in need. The director thought my reasons were a good match to the purpose of the program, and I was accepted.

After that interview, I thought, No one at church has ever asked me why I want to teach or be on the Stewardship Commission. Perhaps if screening questions were asked at church, more people would end up in the right jobs and would last longer in those positions. At the very least, it would help clarify what we want and what we’ll need to do the task.

Purpose. It sounds so simple, but how often in church do we nail down our purpose? The friendly visitor director told us our purpose was not to do grocery shopping or to clean the kitchen for our seniors. Our purpose, rather, was to listen and be a bright spot in their week. There were other community services such as Meals on Wheels and Dial-a-Ride to provide daily necessities. If we spent our time cleaning kitchens, how could we be good listeners and empathizers?

In the high school ministry at church, we realized our purpose was not to become “overgrown high schoolers” ourselves, but to be adult role models for them, to help guide them in their spiritual and social growth.

Signing on the dotted line. All friendly visitors have to sign an ethical statement and promise to meet their commitment by not being a no-show and by arriving on time for their visits. Putting it on paper and signing your name brings home the importance of what may seem like a little volunteer job. It also forces those coordinating a program to distill the purpose and requirements into a paragraph.

Since then, I’ve discovered that many churches also ask ushers, Sunday school teachers, and coffee hour coordinators to sign an agreement to serve, usually for one-year renewable terms. It helps solidify the commitment.

Training. For six weeks, the senior center provided new volunteers with role-playing exercises, question-and-answer sessions, and insights into the typical problems of the elderly. It felt great to be prepared.

Again, many churches utilize the same approach. In training sessions, Sunday school teachers role-play how to handle the disruptive child. Ushers discuss how to handle late arrivers. Committee chairs role-play how to deal with the committee member who won’t stop talking.

Follow-up. It helps to discuss the challenges and questions that come up as we minister to others. Quarterly follow-up meetings came in handy, like the time I told the group about my difficulties with leaving Sarah.

Just when it was time to say good-by to Sarah each week, she would suddenly open up and talk about her problems, often with tears in her eyes. But until then, she would be very difficult to talk to. So, not wanting to leave during a meaningful moment, I’d end up feeling manipulated into staying longer than we had arranged.

In the follow-up sessions, the other volunteers told me I was being manipulated. From then on, when Sarah opened up as I was preparing to leave, I felt comfortable saying, “Sarah, I’d like to stay and talk, but I have to leave for another appointment.” And I left. After that, Sarah opened up before the end of my visit.

Laity burnout is a serious problem for the church in this age of superbusy people; witness my hasty, unannounced departure from Resurrection Church. But by implementing some of the principles I learned the hard way, we can do much to avoid it.

Copyright ©1988 Christianity Today

All sorrow and suffering are designed to teach us lessons we would not or could not learn in any other way.
Max Heindel

Three of the most painful words pastors ever hear are “Pastor, I’m leaving.” The message they convey is the opposite of what we want to hear. The temptation to take the news personally is almost irresistible. We wonder, What did I do or fail to do that’s causing them to leave? And then comes the agonizing question, How could they do this to me? The hurt and self-doubt never get easier, even though the situation is inevitable.

John Cionca, dean of students at Bethel Seminary and former pastor of Southwood Baptist Church in Woodbury, New Jersey, asked fellow pastors how they have handled the pain of losing members and what lessons they have learned from the experience about making something good come out of it. He tells what has helped, and he also suggests how best to handle the situation so as to maximize the possibility that those leaving may someday return.

When Jack, a fellow pastor and friend, arrived for dinner, I could see he was troubled. Later he revealed the source of his dejection: “Today one of my key leaders told me he’s leaving the church.” The member wasn’t moving out of town. Just leaving.

While Jack spoke, I felt my own anger and hurt resurfacing from similar experiences in the pastorate. I wanted to help him, but other than sharing his discouragement over the loss of disgruntled members, how could I?

I decided to ask a dozen colleagues how they handle the emotional fallout from dropout members.

A Common Denominator

All of them share a sense of failure when a family leaves the church. A pastor in the Southwest admitted: “Sometimes I have been able to say, ‘Well, you can’t win them all.’ But when I’m alone with my thoughts, my mind wanders back to those people. I try to guess what’s behind their leaving. I know I can’t minister to everybody, but it hurts when people leave.” Another observed: “No matter how much explanation people give to assure me that ‘It’s not you, Pastor,’ I still feel that pain personally.” Pastors typically accept overall responsibility for the church’s ministry. Whether the unhappiness is with an adult class, the youth ministry, or the music, the minister always feels the sting.

“You can usually narrow the reasons for leaving to a few,” one pastor told me. “People feel they don’t belong, they don’t agree with some doctrine, they want a different style of program, or they don’t have any friends. Often they say they’re ‘not being fed.'”

But since the church often reflects the pastor’s personality and philosophy of ministry, when a member announces, “I’m leaving the church,” pastors translate that, “I’m rejecting you!”

Contributors to the Pain

A number of factors affect how deeply a pastor will feel the loss:

The Personality Factor. On psychological inventories such as the Taylor-Johnson Temperament Analysis or the MMPI, pastors’ scores vary on scales regarding sensitivity versus indifference, subjectivity versus objectivity, or relational orientation versus task orientation. But our profession necessitates building relationships, and therefore most ministers are in a position to be hurt by people who seemingly reject their ministry. The more sensitive, subjective, or relational one’s personality, the more intense will be the hurt.

The Surprise Factor. Often we’re not surprised by someone’s leaving. Some members let their disagreement be known, and we are psychologically prepared for their departure. But when a couple just disappears and we hear rumors they’re attending elsewhere, we take that news much harder.

The surprise factor definitely had an impact on my friend Jack. Fred, who left his church, taught an adult Sunday school class. He was preparing to coordinate the home Bible study program. The previous Sunday, Fred had assisted Jack in the chancel. Then Monday morning he told Jack that he and his family were leaving the church. The greater the surprise, the more likely the wind will be knocked out of us.

The Investment Factor. Pastor Ron poured a lot of time and energy into the Johnsons, and Joan Johnson grew in her church responsibilities. Then she began to struggle in her marriage. For eighteen months the church cared for the Johnsons, supporting their marriage, watching their children, praying for them. In the end, however, Joan decided she wanted out of her family — and out of the church.

Ron’s personal theology of ministry was at risk with the Johnsons. The couple’s active involvement affirmed his philosophy of ministry that all people should have the opportunity to use their gifts in the local church. “When I saw her blossom, I felt she justified my philosophy,” Ron recalls. “I had a lot of chips on the table, and when she left, I felt like I lost them. It challenged my theology.” The more we have invested in a member, the more it hurts when one leaves.

The Statistical Factor. Departing members damage statistics, and whether we like it or not, we are influenced by the statistical assumption, at least emotionally, that a successful pastor is one whose church is growing. A pastor who has “built” his church is more attractive than the pastor of a dwindling congregation.

No one knows this better than a small-church pastor. When Westinghouse transferred one family to New York, a church I was in lost 3 percent of its Sunday school.

The second part of the statistical factor is income. A church that is meeting or exceeding its budget appears more successful than a church struggling with finances. When a tithing family leaves, their loss is felt financially. In a small church, that tithe may be a substantial percentage of the budget, and the decrease in statistics may cause some to question the pastor’s leadership.

The Prestige Factor. During my last pastorate, one particular loss hurt me deeply because of the couple’s prestige. Ben and Alice were long-time church members. For over a decade, Ben had served as a deacon and worship leader. He was chairman of the search committee that called me.

Sixteen months into my ministry, Ben said that he and Alice would be leaving the church. Gracious people, they didn’t make any waves. I highly respected them and understood their reasons. But Ben was a pillar of the church, a nationally known evangelical leader, and a board member of my seminary.

While we tell ourselves we can’t scratch where everyone itches, we sure would like to scratch effectively for people like Ben and Alice. Losing them affects us significantly.

The Spin-off Factor. I am convinced the most importantingredient for church growth is congregational attitude and esteem. When someone leaves the church to attend a different one, it’s a blow to a church’s self-esteem. When more than one family leaves, people begin to wonder, What’s going on around here? What’s wrong with us?

Because they know someone’s leaving hurts the church’s self-esteem, pastors feel the loss doubly.

Coping with the Inevitable

Some sheep will inevitably move elsewhere, so how can pastors cope with the feelings of hurt, loss, and failure that accompany these migrations? As I mulled over the responses from my colleagues, I arrived at several conclusions:

Concede that people will leave your ministry. You’ve heard the expression, “What you don’t know can’t hurt you.” Not so! Mid-life men need to anticipate career restlessness, and older couples should count on the empty-nest syndrome. So must pastors anticipate the reality of losing members through discontent.

One pastor put it: “I try to take heart by remembering that it has happened before and it will happen again. People will leave, but it’s not the end of the world. Every pastor in the country has faced it.”

Praise God for diversity. People are different. That’s why McDonald’s, Taco Bell, and Kentucky Fried Chicken all stay in business. People don’t leave their preferences at home when they attend church. They appreciate different styles of worship, program, and involvement. One pastor considered such preferences not necessarily bad: “Just as some pastors would not appeal to me if I were sitting in the pew, I recognize I will not appeal to everyone, either.”

Another minister noted, “There are differences in gifts and styles of ministry, and at the present, some individual may need something else.”

The Lord is building his universal church, and a subtraction from my particular congregation might actually be a blessing. One pastor wisely observed: “There are some people the Lord might move on. Maybe down the road you’ll see that by his grace he protected you from deeper problems. Sometimes it’s best for you and the overall welfare of the church when people leave.”

Look beyond the complaint to the concern. In one church, I was asked to resolve a dispute over having a woman teach an adult Sunday school class. This woman had taught previously in the adult elective program, but for two years she had been sidelined until the elders could “study the issue.” After two marathon sessions, the board concluded she could teach.

Although the board strongly endorsed the decision, one elder who held a very conservative view resigned. To my surprise, the woman and her husband also left the church shortly thereafter.

The dispute over teaching was only a surface issue. What the woman really wanted was for me to say, “Yes, I understand that you have been hurt and not treated fairly.” She primarily sought love and affirmation of her worth. Only secondarily did she desire resolution of the teaching issue.

I had rolled up my sleeves and attacked the surface problem but had failed to communicate my concern for her personally. I wish I had heard then the advice given by one pastor: “I try to get beyond my feelings to focus on the hurts of the person leaving.”

Accept criticism where applicable. Even after people quit, we can’t simply write them off. One pastor said, “After people leave, I feel guilty: Have I tried everything? Was I fair? Was I open enough?” People’s absence leaves us with nagging questions.

Another minister stated: “Maybe I’ve done something wrong. Maybe something is lacking either in my personal ministry or the ministry of the church. So I try to honestly evaluate what is said to see if there is truth in it.” While we might not retain disgruntled members, their loss may point out personal shortcomings that, when corrected, will help us with other people in the future.

Process your feelings with another person. One of the questions I asked my friends was, “How do you get back on track after a family has left?” There was great overlap on one response: “Talk it out with a friend.”

“I try to share my burden with another pastor who understands,” one advised. “People who aren’t in the ministry often don’t comprehend what it feels like when someone leaves, so I meet with pastors who have experienced and understand the same circ*mstances.”

A pastor of a larger church noted that he confided in the staff members. “We compare notes. Maybe I don’t know the whole story. Though the rejection is still there, it gets easier if you can discuss it.”

Another pastor confides in a key layman: “I feel comfortable sharing with him. He may not have the answer, but just being able to talk with him helps.” Whether we talk with a spouse, a board member, a staff member, or a pastor friend, a loving listener seems to aid in healing the hurt experienced when someone leaves.

Leaving the Door Open

Knowing people are unhappy with my ministry is disquieting; going to them when they’re leaving is utterly disconcerting. Nevertheless, some pastors contact people who leave the church.

Ken Trivilla at Wooddale Church in Eden Prairie, Minnesota, conducts an exit interview, believing the information gained will benefit the church. The Wooddale staff feels everyone who leaves the church should be given a “proper burial.” Ken says, “I want to leave people with the feeling they can return if they want to. I always try to meet people personally, face to face.”

What’s sometimes hard is interviewing people you’re glad are leaving. “One man left because he felt he was able to teach better than some of our teachers,” Ken recalls. “I took him to lunch and listened to his grievances. When it became apparent I was not trying to woo him back to the church but was just allowing him to share his concerns, he got angry.”

In another situation, Wooddale had put a couple to work too quickly. Ken says, “They had come from a church in Chicago, and in the fall we put them in a teaching slot. By December they decided to leave our church. I called them right away and tried to rebuild our bridges. They didn’t return, but we parted good friends.”

Whatever the technique used, I want the particulars of a given situation to determine my response. A couple of times I have met with the people to talk about their leaving. I have also phoned members who had begun attending another church. In two other situations I wrote people a cordial letter indicating I recognized their departure and wished the best for them.

In each of the circ*mstances I felt it was important to do three things: First, I wanted to apologize if either my demeanor or our church ministry offended them. If there were any barrier on my part, I wanted it removed. Who was at fault was not the issue.

Second, I wanted to reaffirm our philosophy of church ministry. I did not want them to think our church’s direction would necessarily change simply because they were unhappy with it.

Third, I wanted to leave the door wide open for their return. If they subsequently learned the pews were not softer on the other side of the block, I hoped they would feel free to return. I remained on cordial terms with all six families that left our church, and one eventually came back into our fellowship.

Researching this article has encouraged me. Not that the reality of my friends’ pain was encouraging, but I was uplifted by the fact we were a fellowship of ministers experiencing the same concerns and affirming one another.

We can learn from our injuries and grow through our pain. And we may become God’s messengers to other colleagues when they, too, hear the words: “Pastor, I’m leaving.”

Copyright ©1988 Christianity Today

Every person needs security. Every person needs to belong. Every person needs to believe that he or she has influence. Everybody needs self-esteem. When a church lives up to the potential God has given it, no organization does these things better.
Herb Miller

What do you do if you discover your Sunday school is actually repelling instead of attracting visitors? Don Michael McDonald, teacher of an adult class in the Community Bible Church of San Bernardino, California, had a comfortable, informative class just like thousands of others, but that’s the question he had to face. Knowing people join niches and not just churches, he was determined to find out what was wrong and how to make his niche attractive to newcomers.

As a result of what McDonald learned and put into practice, the class began to grow about 10 percent each month, and by the end of a year it had reached an average attendance of sixty-five. Perhaps the best indicator the new strategy was working was that 80 percent of class visitors returned. Here McDonald explains what he learned and how he made the turnaround.

David and Beverly stood in the doorway of the adult Sunday school class and looked over a sea of unfamiliar faces. Beverly had coaxed for weeks to get David there. Their first child was due in four months, and Beverly wanted that child to have a church home. David kept citing a bad experience with “religious people,” but he was finally willing to try church again since they had just moved to this area.

Maybe this time I’ll meet some nice people, David thought.

Maybe this time, Beverly prayed, someone in there will introduce David to Jesus.

I shudder to think how many Davids and Beverlys visited our class and walked away with needs unmet. We didn’t realize it, but we weren’t giving them a chance.

Our pastor first noticed the problem. He called one evening and asked if I would join him for breakfast at a local restaurant. “Sure,” I said. “What’s up?”

“We need to talk about the couples class.”

I wasn’t sure what he was driving at. Our class was well established; it had existed for fifteen of our church’s thirty-five years, and I had taught or cotaught the group for eight years. If anything, we were typical. I took up the offering and taught a Bible lesson. My wife, Judy, did everything else.

As we met that morning, the pastor pointed out that slowly, almost imperceptibly, our class was losing attendance. In a year’s time our average attendance had dropped from twenty-five to twenty.

“Growth occurs on the edges,” he said, “and you’re not taking in new people.” I didn’t have any answers, but then, neither did the pastor. In the following months, however, as we prayed about and pondered the situation, we came to several conclusions.

Know Thy Purpose

We had begun a guest book several months earlier. As Judy and I examined it, we realized many people had visited, but we didn’t recognize any of the names. None had ever returned! As a matter of fact, we couldn’t think of any regular attenders who had been coming less than three years.

Why not? I worked hard on those Bible lessons. Our group seemed to enjoy studying God’s Word and praying together.

We thought about what makes visitors come and realized it is usually because they have tried the worship hour, liked it, and are looking for deeper involvement. Bible study happens many places, but accepting new members begins in Sunday school.

Judy and I set a goal: have one visitor feel accepted and return. We defined acceptance as never having to feel or say, “I’m an outsider.” With this in mind, we began to see contradictions between what we wanted and what we did.

Intimate or Accepting?

The class cannot be intimate and accepting at the same time, we found.

Our format felt comfortable. People entered and sat in a semicircle. We took an offering and asked for announcements, typically someone’s illness and the need for a few meals to be brought over. Someone else often told of a recent answer to prayer. This led into conversational prayer and thanksgiving. Next, we turned to our Bible lesson, continued from the previous week. We closed with prayer.

Our regular attenders enjoyed the format and grew spiritually with it. But if we wanted to accept newcomers, something had to change. Our pastor asked one man why he and his wife didn’t attend our class. The man shook his head. “I can’t go in there again. They pray out loud. I can’t do that.” That man didn’t feel comfortable praying by himself, much less eavesdropping on the prayers of people he didn’t know.

Intimacy among old-timers is desirable, but the visitor calls it a clique. We decided to sacrifice intimacy if it prevented an accepting atmosphere. We knew scolding the regular attenders would not help. So we began to experiment with the class format.

We arranged the chairs in small circles and noticed an immediate change in attendance. We leaped from an average of twenty to twelve. If David and Beverly had walked through the door then, they would have been afraid to sit anywhere. If they began a circle, they would have had to sweat it out waiting for someone else, a stranger, to sit by them. On the other hand, if others were already seated, David and Beverly would fear taking the seats next to someone waiting for an old friend. We returned to the “one big arch” arrangement but with something learned. There are levels of fellowship, and I was asking the people for too much commitment too soon.

Acceptance One Step at a Time

Acceptance comes when the class offers natural steps to involvement. We created a progression, repeating it each week in case other newcomers dropped in.

1. We began with no one seated. A person walking in would see people standing and sipping coffee or tea, talking from behind the protective shield of a Styrofoam cup. At the call to order, everyone chose seats (from multiple rows) at the same time.

2. We required no previous experience with the group. Prearranged announcements covered only upcoming events and programs. The lesson began with humor but not inside jokes; locking a visitor out of the punch line is fatal to growth.

We found singing worked poorly with fewer than thirty, because each person perceived his or her voice as too conspicuous. When we did sing, we kept songs simple and made words available, often displaying them up front so newcomers weren’t the only ones looking at the words.

The lessons did not require knowledge from the previous week. For serial topics, we began each lesson by summarizing salient points from the previous lessons.

3. We required no previous experience with the Bible. The text was stated at the beginning of the lesson. Once people realized they needed Bibles, we offered them to everyone who did not have them, with the day’s key verse already marked.

For those who had brought Bibles, we briefly explained how to find the key verse. The first time I explained that Psalms was in the middle of the Bible, one of our regulars laughed. But now our old-timers realize the person next to them truly may not know.

We geared questions to opinion, personal experience, or what could be answered solely from the morning’s text.

4. We prepared people for greater participation. I asked people to form small circles only after they had milled around, chosen seats, and heard some content. And first I would instruct each person to be prepared to give first and last names and to answer a simple question about himself or herself. By having a few seconds to prepare their comments, people were not as apprehensive about starting conversations.

We had people jot their thoughts before we asked them to talk with the five or six people they’d just met. Only then did we ask for volunteers to answer the question before everyone. As a result, timid people began speaking up more. Sometimes we’d hear, “Mark had a good answer. Go ahead, Mark. Tell him what you told us.”

5. We discouraged natural group selection. We formed circles by various methods — parts of town the attenders were from, or birthdays. This kept old friends from clustering at the expense of newcomers.

In addition, we offered other avenues for meeting needs of deeper intimacy and Bible study. Regular attenders were encouraged to participate in supplemental Bible studies. We handled intimate prayer requests through auxiliary prayer chains. We invited people to join groups of four couples that would get together once a month for three months. After a while, 50 percent of the regular attenders were participating continuously.

We encouraged regulars to develop a ministry mentality. Once every five or six weeks we discussed how to help newcomers: What help do people need when new in town? What would make a newcomer comfortable in a crowd of strangers? Why do we structure the class this way? A new couple that Sunday would catch us talking about them, but the subject was how much we wanted them. Over the door of the classroom we placed the following acrostic: ttdctflooc. It stands for “Through this door come the future leaders of our church.” Regulars know they can no longer assume the person in the next chair is even a believer.

Our Class Grew

The class may have thought it was just another Sunday the first week a visitor returned, but Judy and I saw it as God’s answer to our prayer. During the following months, we had to bring in more chairs. Our average weekly attendance began to climb about 10 percent each month. Within five months, attendance averaged about thirty. When one year had passed, we were sharing God’s Word with sixty or seventy each week. During that year, 80 percent of class visitors returned. Some didn’t return, of course, and some regular attenders left, but for every attender lost we gained four.

If growth had been in numbers only, we could claim no real gain. But our regular attenders began looking for opportunities to reach out to others and take an interest in their spiritual needs. Remember the man who said he couldn’t pray aloud? He attends now, and recently he told Judy and me how he led his son in prayer for salvation.

Some might object, “But people don’t like changes in our church.” Remember, our class was in a rut worn fifteen years deep. Even established classes can change.

Others might object, “But we have no visitors.” We were fortunate to have occasional drop-ins. One person told me that until recently he had never been motivated to bring friends. “Why expose them to a situation you know they won’t like?” An accepting atmosphere helps people risk bringing a friend.

As the class has grown, more people have become involved by necessity. That, too, makes the class more meaningful to them. Before the change, Judy and I got tired of doing everything. Now, about 30 percent of the attenders help by bringing refreshments or leading outside Bible studies. People volunteer when they see their efforts will count. We first had to demonstrate that something was happening, that our class had a purpose. We’ve focused ours on acceptance.

“You know,” said David as he and Beverly left the class after visiting a while ago, “that guy who sat next to me has the same carburetor problem with his car. I want to talk to him next week.”

Copyright ©1988 Christianity Today

Most Protestant congregations … find it easier to receive new members than to assimilate them into the fellowship and to help these new members gain a sense of belonging.
Lyle Schaller

They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.
Acts 2:46-47

Even churches with effective evangelism still face a common frustration: many people who enter the church through the front door leave soon after through the church’s “back door,” usually without telling anyone in the church why. Win and Charles Arn, the president and director, respectively, of the Institute for American Church Growth in Pasadena, California, studied this problem and learned what’s behind it.

Basing their conclusions on extensive research, they examine the two major props that keep that back door open. First appearing several years ago as an article in Leadership Journal, this chapter received from readers the highest rating in the magazine’s history.

The visitation teams headed back to the church at the close of a Thursday evening’s work. One group in particular was excited about their call at the home of Tom and Emily Kenyon. After some polite small talk, the conversation had turned to religion. The group leader followed the basic evangelistic outline they had learned and eventually asked whether the Kenyons wouldn’t like to make a Christian decision.

Tom and Emily responded affirmatively and prayed the prayer in the booklet. Follow-up material was left with the couple, along with an invitation to attend church the next Sunday. This experience, when shared with the other calling teams, was enough to qualify the entire night of calling as a fine success.

The next Sunday, Tom and Emily Kenyon did indeed attend church. While they didn’t know anyone and could not find any of the three who had called that Thursday night, they tried to be friendly and enter into the Sunday morning activities. They attended the church once more two weeks later. It was their last visit. A phone call from the church, following up on their earlier decision, was met with a polite but noncommittal response. The Kenyons had just left through the “evangelistic back door.”

What happened? Why did these apparently genuine Christian decisions not proceed naturally into church involvement and continued growth? Why do many modern evangelistic endeavors have similar dropout patterns? In talking with pastors and church leaders across the nation, we have found that the evangelistic back door is, indeed, very large and very well used.

Some Clues

Research is now demonstrating that the process by which people arrive at a point of Christian decision is a key factor in whether they become responsible members or drop out. The effect of the evangelistic process on the eventual results is so significant, in fact, that it can be predicted which decision makers will grow into responsible church members within the first year and which will become inactive. What is particularly discomforting is that many churches and parachurch groups today use methods that actually increase the likelihood of new converts’ never becoming active church members.

The bottom line for evaluating the success of any evangelistic effort must be “Did those who made a Christian profession become part of the church?” To an increasing number of church leaders, successful evangelism is no longer “How many decisions were made?” or “How many came forward?” or “How many phoned in to accept Christ?” Faithful response to the Great Commission is achieved when the evangelistic process, under the Holy Spirit’s guidance, produces actual, factual growth in the church — growth that is measurable in one year and five — growth that reproduces itself in new disciples.

When this goal is not achieved, well-intentioned but usually inaccurate excuses are given:

“They didn’t understand their commitment.”

“Our follow-up program was lacking.”

“There were no other people in the church their age.”

“The results are up to God.”

But research is now showing clearly that the more fundamental cause of this high “infant mortality rate” lies upstream in the actual evangelistic process. In closing the evangelistic back door, two key areas produce significant increases in lasting disciples and growing churches. The first is process; the second concerns ratios.

The Process

What is it about many current evangelistic methods that is so counterproductive to the goal?

1. A manipulative process tends to create dropouts. It is possible to sort evangelism methods and approaches three ways:

Informative transmission sees evangelism as a one-way communication of certain facts the hearer needs to know. When the information is correctly presented, an appropriate decision can be expected. The relationship between the evangelizer and the prospect is like that of teacher and student, the goal being to impart certain correct information. Thus, the bottom line is “How many people heard the message?”

Another approach to evangelism may be called the manipulative monologue. It may center on an emotional appeal or use a set of carefully prepared questions. The relationship between the believer and the nonbeliever more closely resembles a salesman and a customer, the perceived goal being to close the sale. The bottom line in this view is “How many people said yes?”

The third approach, nonmanipulative dialogue, views evangelism as a two-way process of honest interaction. The assumption is that not all people see things the same way, and one canned approach will not be appropriate in every situation. Evangelism is an effort to respond to the other person as an individual and portray the value of the Christian faith in terms of individualized needs. The relationship between Christian and non-Christian in this case is friend to friend, the goal being to express an honest concern for the other.

In The Pastor’s Church Growth Handbook, Volume II, Flavil Yeakley reports on a study of how church members view the evangelistic process and the results of their evangelistic endeavors. The study identified three groups (240 people each) of “recipients” of an evangelistic presentation: (1) those who made a Christian commitment and are now actively involved in a local church; (2) those who made a commitment but soon dropped out; and (3) those who said, “No, thanks.” Here are the startling results:

Seventy percent (169 of 240) of those who are now active members came to Christ and their church as the result of a member who saw evangelism as nonmanipulative dialogue. By contrast, 87 percent (209) of those now inactive came to their point of decision through a member who used manipulative monologue. And of those who said, “No, thanks,” to an evangelistic presentation, 75 percent (180) did so in response to a would-be persuader who saw evangelism as a process of communicating certain facts, content, and theology. Partial results from this study:

How They View Evangelism

The corollary: Effective evangelistic training and strategy encourage a view of nonmanipulative dialogue between Christians and non-Christians.

2. An evangelistic process that sees its goal as a “decision” rather than a “disciple” tends to create dropouts.

When the goal is a “soul saved,” God’s plan for making disciples is often short-circuited. The fact is that not all deciders become disciples; the two are not synonymous. The biblical goal is not simply an oral confession but a life transformed and a participating member of Christ’s body. Nowhere in Scripture is the word decision found — yet the word disciple appears again and again.

The corollary: Effective evangelism sees disciple making as a process, not an event. A “decision” is only one element of many in the goal of seeing people become disciples and responsible church members.

3. An evangelistic process that presents the gospel one time and then asks for a response tends to create dropouts. We all know stories of people who heard the Good News once, were gloriously changed, and went on to become great men or women of faith. When these miraculous events happen — and they do — we can rejoice. It should be understood, however, that this is unusual, not the norm. More often when someone comes to faith, that person has heard the message again and again and again, then makes a Christian commitment.

A person may hear the gospel in a Bible study class. He may hear it through music. He may see the Christian life demonstrated in the lives of friends. He may hear a testimony at a church social event. He may read it in Scripture, a tract, or a book. He may hear it on radio or television. Then, after many exposures, a season of receptivity comes into that person’s life — a time of need — when the seed that has been sown breaks into new life, takes root, sprouts, and grows.

Research underscores this fact. In comparing active and inactive members, Yeakley found (in Why Churches Grow) that those who continued as active church members had been exposed to an average of 5.79 different Christian influences prior to their commitment. The dropouts, by comparison, had seen or heard the Christian message only 2.16 times before their decision.

As an evangelistic strategy, the more times a person is exposed to the gospel message prior to a Christian commitment, the more likely he or she is to understand the implications of that commitment. The fewer the exposures prior to commitment, the greater the likelihood of dropping out.

The corollary: Effective evangelistic strategy seeks to expose potential disciples to many and varied presentations of the gospel.

4. An evangelistic process that does not build relationships with the local church, its programs, and its ministry tends to create dropouts. When the events leading up to a non-Christian’s profession of faith occur outside any relationship with the people of the local chruch, no ties are established, and the perceived need for involvement in the church is low. This may be true not only when decisions are made in large crusades or via mass media, but even when evangelism calls are made from a local church.

When the new Christian has not built any friendships with members in the church, has not become part of any group where there is a sense of belonging, and has not had prior exposure to the church, its people, its beliefs, and its expectations, some large roadblocks are put in the path of assimilation.

What should a disciple-making strategy include to remove this deficiency in most evangelistic methods? The strategy should seek to foster genuine caring relationships between a variety of members and the potential disciple. It should also seek to involve the potential disciple in several appropriate groups and church programs where new friendships can be made. The more exposures a non-Christian can have to the person of Christ through his people and the church, the more complete his or her understanding of Christ and his love.

The New Testament compares the healthy functioning of the church body to the human body. Arms, legs, eyes, and ears come together as parts of the body. Each member has certain gifts and abilities, and not all members have the same gifts. Because of this, the whole more accurately reflects the person of Christ than any of its parts in isolation. One member brings strengths where another may be weak. Some members are able to relate to a special need of a non-Christian or unchurched person better than others. And in the process, evangelism moves from a few lone rangers to a total team effort. Then, when a Christian commitment is made, it is founded on experience with the body and a growing understanding of what this new commitment means.

The corollary: The closer evangelism is to the local church, the greater the fruit that remains.

Crucial Ratios

While the process of a person’s becoming a disciple and responsible church member is one key element to a successful Great Commission strategy, a second element, equally important, focuses on the church environment into which that new Christian is entering. It concerns ratios in the church.

Here are seven ratios that have significant effect in closing the evangelistic back door:

1. Friendship ratio — 1:7. Each new person should be able to identify at least seven friends in the church within the first six months.

Friendships appear to be the strongest bond cementing new members to their congregation. If they do not immediately develop meaningful friendships in their church, expect them to return to their old friendships — and ways — outside the church. Seven new friendships are a minimum; ten, fifteen, or more are better.

The time factor is important as well. The first six months are crucial. New people not integrated into the body within that period are well on their way out the back door. The following chart clearly illustrates the importance of establishing friendships in the church during the first six months. Note that all fifty “converts — now active members” could name three or more friends in the church, with thirteen new members identifying seven, twelve identifying eight, and twelve listing nine or more. The “dropouts” show almost the opposite pattern in the new friendships they did, or more correctly did not, establish in their churches.

2. Role/Task Ratio — 60:100. At least 60 roles and tasks should be available for every 100 members in a church.

A role or task means a specific function or responsibility (choir, committee member, teacher, officer, etc.). Typical churches of 300 members have no more than 80 roles and tasks available. Of those 80 roles/tasks, 60 are filled by 30 people (the willing workers with more than one job). The remaining 20 roles and tasks are filled by an additional 20 people, thus involving 50 out of 300 members. Would such a typical church have a place for Tom and Emily to find meaningful responsibility? Probably not.

The lack of variety and number of roles/tasks/ministries in most churches creates an environment that actually produces inactive members. Such a church of 300 needs to open itself to newcomers by creating at least 100 new roles and tasks — not busy-work but “kingdom work,” “Great Commission work,” ministries that focus on meeting needs and changing lives.

These kinds of roles are often called “Class II roles.” Whereas “Class I roles” focus primarily inward toward maintenance of the existing institution, Class II roles focus primarily outward toward the surrounding community in an effort to reach persons for Christ and the church. Most plateaued or declining churches average fifteen Class I roles to every Class II role. A more productive ratio would be 3:1 (for every three Class I roles, at least one Class II role). While this is more of an outreach ratio than an assimilation ratio, it does give an important clue to the priority of the church and, thus, the probable reception given to the newcomer.

3. Group Ratio — 7:100. At least seven relational groups — places where friendships are built — should be available in a church for every 100 members.

In studying churches involved in our institute’s Two-Year Growth Process, we have found that plateaued and declining churches fall far short of this group-to-member ratio. The consequence of too few groups for members to build meaningful relationships is a high rate of inactives using the back door. Good questions to ask are “How many groups does our church have per 100 members?” “What percentage of the congregation is a regular part of one or more groups?” “How many new converts/new members have become a regular part of such groups in the last two years?” “How many have not?”

Creating an effective group life is a fundamental building block for growth and incorporation. This important ratio is affirmed by other authorities. Lyle Schaller writes in Assimilating New Members, “It usually is necessary to have six or seven of these groups…for each one hundred members who are thirteen or fourteen years of age or older.”

This ratio in a church will provide important answers to the question “How open is this church to newcomers?”

4. New-Group Ratio — 1:5. Of every five relational groups in a church, one should have been started in the past two years.

The reason new groups are important is that established groups usually reach a saturation point sometime between nine and eighteen months after their formation. When a group has reached this saturation zone, in most cases it stops growing and no longer assimilates new people. Two or three members may leave and two or three may fill their places, but for all practical purposes, the group remains plateaued.

How do you know when a group has reached the saturation point? You make a graph. If a group has not grown in the last six months, it has probably reached saturation.

One remedy is simply to form new groups, with new people involved. This provides for continued freshness in the group life of a congregation. It decreases the number of inactives. It helps close the evangelistic back door.

5. Committee Member Ratio — 1:5. One of every five committee members should have joined the church within the last two years.

In conversation with the pastor of an old-line church in the Pacific Northwest, I asked, “How long would I need to be a member of the church before I might be elected to office?”

He studied my question for a moment, then asked, “Would you attend regularly, give faithfully, and exemplify the Christian life?”

“Yes,” I responded.

“Then you would be elected to office sometime between the twelfth and fourteenth year after you joined.”

No wonder this church has a terminal illness! New board and committee members bring fresh and exciting ideas, along with vitality. They are positive and enthusiastic about their new church, ready to earn their sense of belonging. They provide the best source of volunteers.

A regular review of the boards and committees in a church to assure the 1:5 ratio will encourage an openness in the power structure and assure that the church never forgets its real mission.

6. Staff ratio — 1:150. A church should have one full-time staff member for every 150 persons in worship.

This ratio is a good indicator of a church’s commitment to growth. If the ratio reaches 1:225-250, it is unusual to see any significant increase in active membership. While more persons may join the church, the evangelistic back door will open wider. Adding a staff person before this point is reached helps a church anticipate the influx of new persons and provides a church environment to accommodate them. Here is the rule of thumb:

We suggest the first person added after the pastor be hired to minister full-time in the area of evangelism and church growth, including the incorporation of new members into the fellowship. This person will normally pay for himself or herself through new giving units added to the church within the first year and a half. In some churches we have worked with, the new staff person’s salary was paid within nine months.

7. Visitor Ratio — 3:10. Of the first-time visitors who live in the church’s ministry area, three of every ten should be actively involved within a year.

Calculating the visitor ratio provides three insights into a church’s attitude toward newcomers: (1) it indicates the present members’ openness to visitors; (2) it indicates the priority of visitors in the functioning of the church; and (3) it indicates the effectiveness of the church’s follow-up strategy.

Whether persons are transferring to a new church or trying their first church, as Tom and Emily were, they always visit before joining. Visitors are the only source of new members (except for the children of believers). If visitors do not feel genuinely welcome, needed, and wanted, they seldom return. Our studies indicate that through an effective strategy, some churches are seeing four of every ten local visitors come back a second time. An incorporation strategy that focuses on these second-time visitors will result in 70-75 percent of them joining within a year (hence the 3:10 ratio of first-time local visitors joining within a year).

The typical nongrowing church, on the other hand, sees only 10-12 percent of its first-time visitors join. Such a percentage, it turns out, is almost the exact number a church can expect to lose each year through transfer, death, and falling away.

We Can Do Better

It is important that the relatively high mortality rate from some present-day evangelistic methods not come to be viewed as normal or unavoidable. With adequate training and appropriate methods, churches can see a significantly greater harvest.

Is there really any value in investing time, energy, money, and people in the work of evangelism only to see the hard-won results drop away? Closing the evangelistic back door is possible. We can see more-lasting results if we begin viewing evangelism and incorporation as two sides of one coin, interdependent, both essential for the growth of God’s church.

Most churches can substantially increase their effectiveness in making disciples and responsible church members. Let’s slam the back door.

Copyright ©1988 Christianity Today

No other single factor makes a greater difference in improving annual membership additions than an immediate visit to the homes of first-time worshipers.
Herb Miller

Visitation: the image that immediately comes to mind is of knocking on a stranger’s door as the glow from a television leaks through the front drapes. What’s this person going to think of me? you’re likely to worry in such a situation. Am I going to interrupt a favorite program? Will they want to talk, or will they resent my visit? And perhaps most troubling of all, Is it really going to make any difference?

To find out, Leadership surveyed nearly seven hundred people who had been contacted in the course of a year by the calling programs of three diverse churches. Marshall Shelley, managing editor of Leadership, studied the results and reports on what people think about being visited in their homes. Besides describing how people respond, he explains what approaches led to the best results.

What do they really think — those people we call on? Do they associate church visitation teams with the assorted cultists who go door knocking and pamphlet peddling? How many people are glad to see us, and how many feel we’re invading their privacy?

They’re normally civil, perhaps even polite — but pastor and lay volunteers wonder, What do they say after we’ve left? And more important, What effect, if any, did this visit have?

To find out, Leadership surveyed nearly seven hundred people who had been contacted in the past year by the calling programs of three diverse congregations: Galilee Baptist Church in Denver, Colorado; Bismark Reformed Church in Bismarck, North Dakota; and Big Valley Grace Community Church in Modesto, California.

Each of these churches has weekly visitation based on the Evangelism Explosion method. The program, which trains lay people to give a brief, systematic presentation of the gospel, is used by many churches, including these three, to follow up on first-time visitors to their worship services.

These were not “cold contacts” — homes picked out of the phone book or off a city map. These were people who had shown some interest in the church, usually by attending a Sunday morning service and signing a visitor form.

In order to get candid reactions and the greatest number of responses, the surveys were short — five questions — and anonymous, though people were given the option of including name and phone number if they were willing to talk further. Thirty percent included their names.

In order to assess the effect over time, separate surveys were sent to those visited from September 1982 through August 1983 and those contacted since September 1983.

Because of the strong response (from one group an amazing 74 percent of the surveys were answered) and the similar results from all three churches (despite their different sizes and locations), the survey may indicate what other churches with similar programs can expect.

Generally a Positive Contact

Nearly 80 percent felt good about the visit, and over 60 percent indicated it was either helpful or very helpful.

In response to the question “After they left, what were your personal feelings about the visit?” less than 1 percent marked Strongly Negative (They shouldn’t have come). Five percent said Negative (It was an irritation), 13 percent were neutral, 44 percent said Positive (I appreciated their stopping), and another 35 percent felt Strongly Positive (I was very glad they came.) Three percent marked Other. (See chart 1.)

Several surveys said, “I was nervous and hesitant at first, but afterward I was glad they’d come.” Others were grateful for “meeting people who cared.”

Those who were negative complained primarily about the timing of the visit.

“We had just moved to town and were very busy laying carpet and cutting the pads underneath in anticipation of the moving van arriving the next morning,” wrote one respondent. “When the team called, I explained our predicament and suggested we meet another time, but they said they only visited that night each week and insisted they come in for a short visit. I felt very uncomfortable — we had no furniture, no refreshments, and were in work clothes. We explained we were Christians already, yet we had to listen to the whole speech because one member of the team ‘needed practice.’ The ‘short’ visit lasted an hour and a half, and we were resentful since we had to work into the early morning hours to prepare for the movers.”

Several mentioned that the visits came just as they were leaving the house, at bedtime for kids, when someone was sick, or at mealtime. “My husband and I were both in our bathrobes and felt uncomfortable with the unexpected visitors,” said one. Another wrote, “My husband had the flu, the house was a disaster, and they came unannounced. I would have appreciated some warning.”

Several others commented on the approach of the callers:

“They treated me like a new Christian instead of the person I am — a Christian of twenty-five years.”

“Once they discovered I was a Christian, they ‘practiced’ the plan of salvation on me. I felt like a guinea pig.”

These, however, represent a minority. In response to the question “After they left, did you feel you had gained anything by their coming?” only between 3 and 19 percent (depending on the church) said No, the visit wasn’t helpful. The overwhelming majority said the visit was either somewhat helpful, helpful, or very helpful.

What, if anything, did they feel they’d gained? Most checked more than one response:

Information about the church (69 percent)

Beginning a friendship with the visitor (32 percent)

A further step in my Christian walk (26 percent)

A new understanding about the Christian faith (9 percent)

A new relationship with Jesus Christ (6 percent)

Other (12 percent)

Among those marking Other, a few were negative. (“We appreciated the first visit, but after we told them we were active in our own church, they should not have come back four more times. It was an irritation.”) Most, however, expressed appreciation. “I was glad to see Christians evangelizing rather than the cults,” said one man.

Or as a Bismarck woman wrote, “I became a Christian three years before, but I backslid. After this visit I felt as though someone cared. When they left, I rededicated my life to Christ. Now, I’ve joined a women’s Bible study at the church.”

Long-term Effects

Survey responses also revealed the church attendance patterns following the visitation.

Overall, 28 percent said they’re now regularly attending the church that called on them. Another 12 percent have been back once or twice.

Some 13 percent have visited another church and become active there, and 10 percent were already attending another church and have become more active there.

No change in church involvement was reported by 23 percent, and 14 percent marked Other. (See chart 2.)

Another way of looking at it: Based on this sampling, 40 percent of those you visit will wind up back at your church at least once, and a full 50 percent will become more frequent church attenders, either at your church or another.

Often this takes time. While 30 percent of those visited recently claimed no change in church involvement, that number dropped to 18 percent among those visited several months ago. In other words, results sometimes come late; people begin showing up months after the doorbell was first rung.

Where do these unhurried people eventually plug in?

Primarily other churches. (See chart 3.) Of those called on recently, 30 percent are regularly attending that church. For those called on a year ago, the figure dips slightly to 27 percent. But during that year, those becoming more active in other churches rises from a combined 14 percent to 29 percent.

If visitation is seen as a ministry for the kingdom of God rather than simply for the specific congregation, this can be encouraging: over half the people you visit will likely become more active at one church or another.

The Fraction We Focus On

Evangelism programs often rate their success by how many people “pray the prayer” committing themselves to Jesus. What about this 6 percent? Who are these people?

Mostly young adults. By age, the new believers fell into these categories:

0-19 years — none

20-35 years — 80 percent

36-50 years — 7 percent

51-65 years — 13 percent

65 years or more — none

Possibly this can be explained because the early adult years are transition years, and those in flux are more receptive to the gospel. It also may be the result of this group’s doing more church shopping and thus being the focus of more visitation. (See chart 4.)

In addition, 80 percent of those claiming a new relationship with Jesus Christ marked the response Took a further step in my Christian walk. Perhaps this wasn’t the first time they had heard the gospel; perhaps they had been getting closer to taking this step for some time.

What part did the visit itself play in their decision? What had been especially influential? We phoned all those who said they’d begun a new relationship with Christ and who’d included their name and phone number.

Slightly over half described the experience as primarily a renewal of previous religious commitment. “We wanted to get back into following Christ,” said the wife of an Air Force officer. “We were puzzled about things in the Bible. They answered our questions and gave us the words to describe our faith.”

“I was already a Christian, but I’d sort of gotten away from it,” said a young woman in California. “But they were so warm but not pushy; they didn’t make me feel like an outcast. They opened my eyes about how people really are — that it’s normal to slack off, but you have to keep coming back.”

In every case, however, even among those making a first-time commitment, there had been exposure to the gospel before they met with the visitation team.

“I’d been reading the Bible with a Christian girl at work, and I was beginning to understand what God wants,” said a Denver woman. “But I had never really prayed to ask Jesus into my life. The people from the church asked if I wanted to, and I said yes. It was my first time ‘officially,’ and I was real nervous because I didn’t know the people. If that had been my first contact with Jesus, I wouldn’t have done it.”

Another new believer, a medical student, explained, “I grew up (and still am) an Episcopalian, but I never had what I’d call a personal relationship with God. Then I experienced several deaths of people about my age, and I realized that if I was going to be a doctor, I’d better come to terms with death.

“When the group from Galilee came, they explained their faith, and it made sense. They were very supportive but didn’t push. They didn’t say anything I hadn’t heard before, but we prayed together, and it was a big symbolic event, an outward declaration of my faith. It was the beginning of the process of change in my life.”

Lessons Learned

After sifting survey returns and interviewing by phone, what can we conclude? What would be helpful for visitation teams to know? Three things stand out:

1. Calling on people is not offensive. The strongest finding of this survey is that while some people may be hesitant at first, 80 percent wind up enjoying the attention they receive.

Those who knock on doors without phoning ahead of time have a greater risk of negative response, but as Mike Pentel, a visitation team leader at Galilee Baptist, says, “It’s a tradeoff. When you call ahead of time and ask if you can come over, it’s easier for them to say no. The people who need it most wouldn’t get touched. If we don’t find anyone at home several nights in a row, then we’ll try to call and set up an appointment.”

And unless the time was inconvenient, even those who weren’t called appreciated the visit.

Many of those ready to make spiritual decisions, however, are eager to talk and simply waiting for the opportunity. Most of those who’d begun a new relationship with Christ also said they knew the visitors were coming — either someone phoned or someone had talked to them at church. Instead of discouraging anyone from coming over, these people said they were prepared to discuss spiritual things with the visitation team.

2. Make sure the communication is two-way. No one surveyed objected to what the callers said. People who’ve visited a church are interested in what the church stands for. The resistance comes when the message is dispensed as a monologue or sales pitch, with only token responses asked of the listener.

“All the visitor did was tell me the basics of Christianity without ever asking about where I was in my spiritual life,” wrote one man. “He rambled on and sought no interaction from me.”

Another said, “I didn’t get any information about the church — only their personal experiences.”

One woman reported, “It was uncomfortable because I was a Christian, but my husband is not. He stood up through the whole visit, hoping they’d leave, though he’s too polite to ask them. But one man talked for twenty minutes without stopping. They needed to ask us some questions. It was unnatural.”

Interestingly, a year later, that woman was involved herself in the church’s visitation program, and she learned from her pastor how to talk about the gospel naturally. “It’s much more relaxed that way,” she says.

3. Don’t be discouraged if the night doesn’t produce a dramatic conversion. Lay people sometimes get the impression that the evening is less than successful if no one prays to accept Christ. Actually, a profession of faith is the exception, not the rule — one in approximately twenty visits. But that doesn’t mean failure. Significant spiritual things are happening.

One woman, for instance, who indicated she’d received help with a personal question or problem, said, “About a month before the people from the church came, my ex-husband kidnapped my son. He came over for a visit, put our son in the car, and left. I haven’t seen either of them since.

“I was feeling so guilty — I should have known … I should have done something to stop it.

“You never get over those feelings, but the people who visited me from the church really helped. They didn’t second-guess me, and they helped me see I didn’t need to keep blaming myself. They cared about me.

“I told them I was thinking of taking in an older person to room with me, and within the next week, each of them phoned me with names of people to contact. They kept me going through a rough time.”

No, this woman didn’t make a profession of faith that night. Nor has she been added to the church rolls — she’s only been back once or twice. But that anonymous visitation team showed that ministry, even when it’s not visible, can be effective.

Copyright ©1988 Christianity Today