Church

I was 24 years old when I sat down in a counseller’s office for the first time. My fiancé was seated next to me and I remember studying the room in nervous anticipation for what would happen next. What do you talk about during premarital counselling?

The counsellor greeted us warmly and asked some questions that didn’t require much thought. But later, he probed a bit further and asked something that I was completely unprepared for. My fiancé had just explained how she felt loved and appreciated when I spent focused time with her. After listening intently, the counsellor turned to me and said, “and how does that make you feel, Keith?”

“How do I feel about what?” I asked.

“How does it make you feel knowing that Melissa feels loved when you spend time with her?”

How do I feel about how she feels? I thought to myself. I wasn’t sure what to say, but I mustered a confident, “Good,” and left it at that. In retrospect, I believe I said this more as a question than an answer, but I was too busy exhaling from my moment of vulnerability to notice.

"Good" isn't a feeling

“Good isn’t a feeling,” the counsellor quickly replied. “Tell me how you feel.”

Good isn’t a feeling? I thought. What’s that supposed to mean? I’ve been telling people I feel good for years.

“‘Good’ describes an object or a condition,” the counsellor explained. “It doesn’t express how you feel. I want to know how you feel.”

Forced into choosing a different word, I struggled to identify my actual emotion. But the counsellor was well prepared. He gave me a long list of emotions to look over and the options were greater than an eight-year-old’s Christmas list. That experience taught me that I was keenly unaware of my feelings. Suddenly equipped with hundreds of emotions to choose from, I discovered I had been using less than ten words to describe virtually every experience I had ever had.

We all know a leader who has made a major mistake. Perhaps this very thought reminds you of the story of your former pastor. Or maybe the leader of a well-known organization. Perhaps you instinctively think of what’s happening in your church right now. Or you might dwell on the regret that you’re currently trying to fix. 

Mistakes come in different shapes and sizes, but each one has something in common: whenever a leader makes a mistake, the trust that person had with their followers is damaged. Warren Buffet has famously said, “It takes 20 years to build a reputation and five minutes to ruin it.” But how does his comment relate to trust? How can a leader rebuild trust after any mistake, regardless of its size? 

Most of us can agree there’s a wide gap between honest mistakes and moral failures. However, whenever a leader is slow to admit a mistake that appears to be harmless, the distance to moral failure begins to shrink. 

We can likely agree that embezzling money and double-booking a meeting are examples that are grossly disproportionate to each other. And yet, they also share something significant. They raise questions; and for good reason! Followers want to know—they need to know—if they can trust a leader again. This is the motivation behind the inquiries that must surely follow.

When I’m in the position of “needing to know,” I find myself asking two primary questions—no matter the size of the mistake that a leader has made.

Why did this mistake happen?

I want to know why a mistake occurred because I want to understand the leader’s heart. Was this a simple error or was it calculated? Has this happened before and does the leader have a plan—and the necessary support—to keep it from happening again? 

Understandably, some leaders can feel uncomfortable disclosing these details and there are times when some information cannot be shared publicly. But the details aren’t as important as what they reveal. My primary concern is the systemic issues that may have led to a leader’s mistake. This helps me consider if the leader is willing to examine these elements and work with others to build a healthier system.

Part of my analysis is motivated by a fear I am consciously aware of, but cautious to verbalize. Is this leader likely to make a future mistake that is even more damaging than this one?

I grew up in a church where money was rarely talked about. I say “rarely” instead of “never” just in case I happened to miss something the preacher might have said. I imagine there must have been some public teaching that warned people about serving money instead of God, but I can’t recall this message being linked to the idea that money was needed for church ministry. Instead, the silence taught me that giving was personal and private. An offering box sat at the back of the sanctuary, providing equal convenience to the discreet giver and the regular avoider. It also cemented the idea that money and the church were two separate topics. 

People have different reasons for giving, but church leaders can greatly strengthen or hinder this potential. Part of this hinges on the words that come from the stage (here are 7 phrases to avoid saying), but another critical part is the giving philosophy that is established and demonstrated by church leaders. By philosophy, I’m referring to the core values that churches have about money and the methods they use to mobilize ministry. 

Many pastors don’t see the importance of developing a giving philosophy, but my friend Mike Penninga, the former Senior Pastor of Kelowna Gospel Fellowship, has grown to understand how giving is connected to personal and corporate transformation. Mike has developed a giving philosophy that fits his understanding of Scripture and the reasons why people typically choose to give. His observations cause him to believe that people have four primary reasons for giving:   

People give when they believe in the mission   

Giving is fueled by the belief that a church is doing something that matters. A person becomes a likely donor when they make the connection between what a church is doing and what they personally care about.