A few weeks ago, I spent some time with a pastor who had recently been “fired” from his church. Ostensibly, the precipitating cause of his removal was to raise a theological question about a matter that most Christians in the world are pretty unclear about. But as he described this heartbreaking situation, it became clear that another issue, unspoken, but looming so large was actually way more important than any theological nuance: Buildings. Property. A Large beautiful church campus and all that that entails…high profile ministry, large indebtedness, lots of anxiety.
The pastor explained to me that 15 years earlier he had been called to take over a struggling suburban congregation. He came in as a young preacher with a bit of edge to him, and his personality became the personality of the congregation. It was fresh, compelling, even controversial. And the church grew. And grew. And grew. He is a really good preacher. A compelling personality and yes, has an “edge” about him.
But a growing church led to a new campus and new buildings and a big building project. The church attracted new people who were drawn more to the success and size and programs that a large church could produce than to the edgy preaching and prophetic ministry of the preacher that had grown the church in the first place.
And these new people soon made their way into leadership, committed with all good intention to help this gifted preacher ‘manage’ the church so that it could sustain the growth, pay the bills and continue it’s upward spiral of success. Until the pastor, in his characteristically abrasive way, started rubbing the ‘wrong’ people the wrong way.
Eventually, the pastor was deemed too controversial for such an ‘established’, growing, church (indeed, a ‘star’ in the denomination). And he was out. Now the pastor runs an inner city home church network that is dedicated above all things, as he told me, to “NEVER have a building.”
In the Starfish and the Spider, Beckstrom and Brafman tell the compelling story about how the Apaches avoided being conquered by first the Spaniards, then the Mexicans and then the Americans. Centuries after the mighty Aztecs had been overthrown with all their wealth and culture and power, the rag-tag Apaches were still confounding the United States government with their decentralized “starfish” ways.
Until finally, the Americans figured out how to conquer the Apaches: Give them cows. Cows were valuable commodities that could produced guaranteed nourishment for decades. But cows also required that the nomadic, “starfish” Apaches, had to settle down in one place and put someone in charge of the cows. And then, they could be contained, controlled, even conquered.
Now, some may immediately jump to the conclusion that property and possessions are inherently wrong. (Indeed, that is the conclusion my pastor friend has understandably come to.) But, I am not. In fact, as a pastor, I have spent the better part of the past ten years leading our church through just the kind of extensive building program that my pastor friend had undertaken. (Thankfully, I still have my job.)
I contend that thoughtful, careful stewardship of resources is one of the responsibilities and opportunities for insuring a lasting legacy of an organization. When Brafman and Beckstrom write of the “hybrid-combo” that seeks to decentralize most of an organization, it seems to me that what should remain centralized is the responsibility for that thoughtful stewardship. If you have anything that is worthy of protecting and passing down, then some centralized form of leadership is necessary and that may be the ONLY role for a "head" of a "starfish". (What Richard Chait and colleagues deems “fiduciary responsibility”.)
But one of the most important realities for any organization to face "head" on is that organizations change when they get stuff. And to put it even more bluntly:
Stuff changes organizations. It is ‘stuff’ that turns a starfish into a spider. It is usually ‘stuff’ that will keep a spider from becoming more starfish-like, even if that transformation is exactly what needs to occur to accomplish our mission.
Mostly, it is unconscious. (I would dare say that if anybody from my pastor friend’s church reads this, they’ll protest loudly that it was NOT about the buildings but about his theology!) But more often than not the unspoken driving force behind an organization being overly centralized, overly fiduciary and overly regulatory, and dramatically under-performing in its actual mission, is the drive to protect the stuff.
If we are going to have effective missional organizations than we must have candid conversations around this conviction:
When we stop protecting our mission and start protecting our stuff we lose our mission.
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