This letter (or one like it) was sent late last year to, let’s say, a composite pastor (‘any resemblance to any pastor living or dead is…. probably intended!). Several clients experienced the ‘left foot of fellowship’ (opposite of the right hand of fellowship) from their evangelical mainline churches at this time. Perhaps this might help others…

Dear Joe,

Sorry to hear your worst fears have come true – secret meetings of detractors, open discussions about your performance in the elders’ council, and finally you have reluctantly resigned your pastorate.

I hear that you’ve gone with grace: ‘good on you’ for that. Some of my pastor-friends are tempted to create a ruckus, and this process almost always splits the church. It’s a tender time for pastors and people – and their spouses, and their friends. Friendships – and families – are fractured as people are forced to take sides. The fallout sometimes continues for years. The church itself gets a bad name as a ‘pastor-crusher’. No one wins.

As we talked through the process, you said you were burnt out. That’s another way of saying the emotional burden of everything was becoming too much for you. As a male you almost instinctively play the game to win: but in this game you knew you wouldn’t, and couldn’t. The mounting criticisms were wearing you down. It’s been a hard time for you.

You asked me to assess the situation in after-sight, and write a summary of what the leaders said about it all. The essence of their criticisms of your leadership, as I understand it, had nothing to do with your character, commitment, or obvious call to pastoral ministry. These qualities, at all times in the discussions, were accepted without question. The issue boiled down to one: a question of competence, and your leadership style.

Your church was a middle-class evangelical, family church situated in the centre of the suburban Bible belt. You had gifts of communication (though your preaching was sometimes criticized for its lack of ‘depth’ and ‘challenge’) and you were always ‘warm and friendly’. You were a good coordinator, and read the mood of your constituents pretty well. So the Sunday services were generally well attended; the Sunday School ran well; and the music was excellent. (As you sometimes put it: ‘Any church will grow in this soil if you don’t make too many mistakes.’)

No one complained about any of that. What got to the leaders irate was that they felt as if they were never ‘stretched’; their talents and gifts were not utilized, and that you lacked entrepreneurial vision. The leaders didn’t know where the church was going; and when they asked for your ‘vision’ they got fuzzy answers. They also noted that you tended to surround yourself with weak ‘yes-people’ – indeed, the ‘strong’ ones who came to the church, and occasionally into the leadership from time to time, tended not to stay long. The leadership wanted to talk about performance appraisals, goals, mission statements – and you got threatened by all that. You admitted as much – and it was obvious to others.

This negativity about professional growth was a function of your family of origin: you were honest about that. At school you were a mediocre performer, but your friends were ‘stars’. You failed some of your theological college exams. And you didn’t give evidence of reading very much, or seeking to improve your professional competence. Unfortunately in a ‘consumer culture’ people want a return for their input of time and money and effort. You might criticize this as unspiritual, but they have a point. If they want to do their best for God, they need a leader who pursues excellence and isn’t threatened by the strengths of others.

I hope this doesn’t come across as harsh: it’s meant to reflect the situation as the leaders and I have perceived it – and hopefully be an encouragement to others who might read this. Our theological seminaries are belatedly catching up with the necessity of training pastors for multi-staffed churches. It’s tough being a leader these days: people have more diffuse expectations, and they will express these more clamantly. Our challenge is to rise to the occasion. We are not expected by most of our parishioners to be experts at everything. But they do expect us to lead – and to delegate ministries to others who will complement our own…

May the Lord encourage you and guide you. This has been hard for your wife too, I know. John Mark Ministries is here to help at any time. ‘There’s life after parish ministry’ and perhaps during this period you will find an alternative vocation which will be less demanding for a while. You will be refreshed: and, who knows, like the apostolic John Mark you may come back into a parish ministry again, stronger and wiser and with some valuable life-experience to offer others in the years ahead.

God bless you.

Your brother and friend,

Rowland Croucher