Tod Bolsinger

When Size Really Doesn’t Matter…. OR… Why a discussion of either “Wee Kirks” or “Tall Steeples” completely misses the moment.

Two meals, two conversations, the same topic. (Over and over again.) 

One was the pastor of a declining church, the other a growing one.  One was in an urban setting, the other rural.  One of their churches was well -known, even iconic, the other was church that is not really known outside its community. Both pastors are in their late thirties. Both gifted preachers, caring people, have a strong presence and have good track records. They also share a common theological tradition. One of them pastors a church whose membership is in the thousands, the other (the growing church no less!) has a membership of about 150.

And both of them made the same comment to me: “I don’t know what to do next.”

For years, the wise assumption was that there is a significant difference between large and small churches. While both require strong preaching, teaching, Session moderating, and pastoral care skills, the management complexity between the large church and the small one called for different skills and experience. Indeed, for a long time size has been considered the biggest difference in different calls.  It’s one of the reasons why most ‘first calls’ that are not associate pastor positions are in smaller congregations.  It is assumed that as pastors gain experience they can ‘handle’ a bigger job.

But as my two conversation partners reminded me, (and I have now had this conversation with dozens of pastors) there is one critical arena of ministry where size doesn’t really matter: leading change.

When the topic turns from being a good steward of what a church is and has been to leading a congregation to what they are called to be and become, the leadership skills are the same regardless of size: Instilling urgency, capturing the opportunity, stirring hope, raising competing values, working through resistance, dealing with loss, maintaining conviction in the face of resistance, even calmly addressing sabotage.

For the church leaders of the future, the demarcation lines will not be between ‘Mega’ and ‘Wee’ churches (and all those in-between) but between those who are in “management mode” and those who are going through organizational and missional transformation.  Regardless of setting, regardless of size, regardless if the church is in 'redevelopment' or is even a "new church developlent."  More and more, there will be two sets of pastors, both needed, both invaluable--both will require strong pastoral skills, a love for people and a devotion to Christ.--but more and more there will be two two different sets of tasks with two different callings, requiring a different set of pastoral skills: Stewardship or Leadership. 

Because I believe this, I also believe that the key questions for most congregations looking for a new pastor are question of honest congregational self reflection:

1. “What moment are we in?”  
2. "What do we really want to be?" 

Is this a season of settling down or setting off for a new horizon? Are we looking for someone to be a steward of our legacy or to equip us for a changing world?  Do we really want someone to care for the shareholder saints or are we really ready to reach beyond the walls? Is it a season for managing what we have been entrusted with or leading us in the painful work of being transformed for the unknown in front of us? 

If the key issue is about management, then size of the congregation (and the staff, the budget, the debt, the facilities, etc.) and the experience of the pastoral candidates is significant to consider.

But  whether it is a larger church that is addressing decline, or a smaller church that is losing its cozy family feel as they welcome new people; whether it be a dying church looking for a new day or a healthy church looking to bring the gospel to the unreached, disaffected or disinterested, the common pastoral skill set for a changing world is the capacity to lead change amidst the emotional complexity that is part of every church.  

And when leading change-- size really doesn't matter. 

Related articles

Clergy Burnout: What's really causing it?

Burned out or Soul-Starved?

A recent blog post  by Philip Wagner on "The Secret Pain of Pastors" has created some good--and really necessary--conversation about the challenge of pastoral leadership today.  I'll add my two cents with a few re-posts  of blogs I wrote after the NY Times ran a similar article in 2010. These posts were written right at the time that I started coaching pastors and working on a book on leadership development.  Today, after 200 conversations with pastors, I'm more convinced than ever that there is a clergy leadership crisis that is only increasing. 

In the Greek myth, Narcissus dies of starvation.  Cursed to fall in love with the next face he sees because he cruelly hurts another, he sees his reflection in a pond, falls in love with his own image and can’t pull himself away—even to eat or drink.  Continually ‘feeding’ the adoration of the image, he never eats and dies.

Today, the debate over what “causes” narcissism is filled with as many varied voices as there are experts.  But almost everyone agrees on this: Pastoral ministry is rampant with narcissistically wounded people.  We clergy join politicians, entertainers, and business leaders in this category.  And I want to suggest yet another cause for the “burnout” we see amongst clergy:  We are actually soul-starved. 

The projection of others onto our roles, the requirement of being constantly “on”, the necessity “wooing” people who are growing more disinterested and resistant to our messages, and the stress of living professionally and personally in the “family-system” environment that is the church feeds our images and starves our true, whole, authentic-to-God selves.

To be clear, the popular description of the narcissist as the self-absorbed, “me-centered person” actually misses the deeper, more painful reality.  Most narcissists are themselves wounded souls, who for whatever reason need to defend against our insecurity or fear of abandonment. As Peter Steinke describes it, “Outwardly vain, the narcissist is inwardly impaired. “

We gravitate to the limelight, because that is where we have found that we get the affirmation and affection that we all need.  Whatever the complex circumstances, (and every one of us has a different story with differing degrees of woundedness), most of us grew up in environments where we were praised and affirmed when we were “on” and felt ignored or rejected at least in part for our true selves.  We pastors, as Henri Nouwen said, are all “wounded healers” and that in one way, this is how God works in our lives to redeem our brokenness—by letting us use our pain to minister to others.  

But when this broken place in our lives is denied or rejected; when we stay stuck in our lack of self-awareness, (some think the word “Narcissus” comes from the Greek word for “slumber” or “numbness”) we create and continue a pattern that feeds our images but ignores the needs of our true, wounded, selves.

For Steinke, when unexamined and unacknowledged, this creates a cyclical pattern of relationship between a pastor and congregation  The narcissistically wounded pastor requires the congregation to ‘supply’ affirmation, and the congregation, enthralled by the giftedness, insight and spiritual magnetism of the leader feel themselves to be ‘special’ and so keep supplying the pastor's ego needs.The dynamics of narcissism revolve around the lack of self-knowledge.

Steinke again:

So one person remains intoxicated with all the praise and adulation he manipulates from others, and the others are enthralled to be associated with someone larger than life. Those who function narcissistically do well so long as they have people who adore them. But some can be so insecure inside that they must ensure their specialness with more and more admirers. They thrive on the ecstasy of numbers.

As a pastor, I have spent the better part of the last twenty-five years figuring out what really feeds me, what really nourishes my soul and what is little more than “swooning” over my image.  When I raise my hands in worship, all stand and give me attention; when I speak they listen in rapt silence, when I finish a good sermon, people line up to tell me that they LOVE me.  (When was the last time you told your plumber, lawyer or financial advisor that you LOVED them for doing their jobs.)  But if I spend my life getting nothing more than the love that is projected on my role, I will not just burn out and fade away, I will die vocationally.

Even worse, the problem with the language of “burnout” is that it actually feeds the image we need to resist.  We live in a world where people admire those who “give their all”, who “leave it out on the field”, who give a “110%”.  But if we could become more aware that we actually starving ourselves we can choose to take responsibility for our own soul-nourishment.

To that end,  let me offer some steps and some resources that I use and suggest for my pastor friends that I partner with, mentor or coach.

First, admit that, if you are feeling soul-starved, very likely you have fallen into the trap of trying to get the love and affirmation you need from your image or role rather than for your deepest, most authentic self.  It will be easier to do this if you know that you are not the only wounded soul in the pulpit, so, start by doing a little reading.  Read Susan Howatch’s Glittering Images, or Henri Nouwen’s Wounded Healer and embrace that at least in some small way, our issues soul starvation are really about our feeding a real need in the wrong way. 

Second, try to become more self-reflective, more “awake” and pay attention to how often we go into a numb ‘soul-trance’ when we are in our roles.  Specifically, try to become aware that every time that you get a “charge” from serving in your role, you are very likely at that moment, being drained, not filled. What you really need in order to serve the congregation and the people in your life in a healthy, enduring way,  can only come out of the limelight, in the moments when you are most authentic, real and vulnerable, open to God in truth and to those who see beyond your role to your self.  In order to lead, you need allies and partners in the church, but in order to thrive most pastors need friends who don’t need them to be “the pastor.”  Read Ruth Hailey Barton’s Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership, or Leighton Ford’s The Attentive Life. And then...

Third, intentionally build in structures and relationships that attend to your whole self.  If the soul, as it is best understood biblically, is the ‘enfleshed spirit’ of a person, then what we need is MORE attention to ourselves, not less. That is our real selves and not our roles. I have found, that I don’t just need vacations to get a break, I need them to get out of the spotlight and enjoy the restoration that comes from being with a family who loves me and old friends who have no investment in my role.  I need to hike and ski and run and engage my body in ways that both challenge me and for which I get no “public” affirmation (I am NEVER going to win my age group in a marathon, I am not exactly built like a Kenyan.)  When I spend time in nature, I get reconnected to the reality of a world that is much bigger than me and in which I am a very small part.  When I travel I become more aware that the world really doesn’t revolve around me and that is not only very good news, but a genuine relief.  In addition, I have spent the better part of twenty years off and on in therapy and why even as I coach pastors, I have my own coaching group and covenant group to continually pay attention to the ways that I can fall back into numb, soul-starving patterns of feeding my image and not my self. 

If we re-frame burn out as soul starvation, then we realize that with the right fuel, we can probably keep doing ministry for a long time.  Unlike a withered branch that burns up, we are actually capable of being re-nourished and re-fueled.  If we can continually attend to our souls, then maybe the flame that consumes us can actually be for us and for many, a good flame that lights the way for a good long life of ministry.

Worn Out from Wearing the Collar

A recent blog post  by Philip Wagner on "The Secret Pain of Pastors" has created some good--and really necessary--conversation about the challenge of pastoral leadership today.  I'll add my two cents with a few re-posts  of blogs I wrote after the NY Times ran a similar article in 2010. These posts were written right at the time that I started coaching pastors and working on a book on leadership development.  Today, after 200 conversations with pastors, I'm more convinced than ever that there is a clergy leadership crisis that is only increasing. 

I’ll never forget the first time I saw a priest drinking a beer. 

It was at my grandmother’s house and I was maybe five years old.  The local priest had stopped in for a visit and he was enjoying a late afternoon refreshment with my grandmother and my uncle.  His collar was slightly askew and his top button of his cassock was undone and he smiled when he saw me. But I think it was an awkward moment for both of us.

I’m a Presbyterian in a pretty informal beach town.  So, although I am a “man of the cloth” I rarely wear anything that distinguishes me as clergy.  I don’t wear a clerical collar (although some Presbyterians do), I don’t even wear a clergy robe or hoods or even a stole while leading worship (though I have some pretty great robes with stripes that I trot out for ordinations and such)  The truth is that I barely ever wear a suit and tie.  In fact, there is very little that distinguishes me outwardly as a pastor.  And I like it that way.  I like looking and feeling like a “regular” guy who is just like everyone else.  Honestly, I take pride when people meet me and are surprised that I am a pastor. (“You don’t seem like a pastor,” one person said to me, “you seem normal.”)

But sometimes, that is part of the problem.  Because I look and even feel like I am just like everyone else, I forget that, really in most people’s eyes, I am not.  No matter how much I might want to escape being seen in my role, I am always “on.”  After thirteen years pastoring at the same church and the same small town, most everybody knows that I am “the pastor”.  It’s the way I am introduced to friends, it’s the reason I am the biggest party-killer in town.  It’s also the reason why my neighbors were all nervous when we first moved in (“What if the pastor hears my wife and me arguing?”) It’s the reason why kids who have been Facebook friends with me for years “unfriend” me when they go to college.  Even my wife and kids know that others look at them differently and that’s because of me too.  (“They are ‘the pastor’s wife’ or the “P.Ks”.)

When I take a political stand or I post a status update on Facebook, it reflects on my church and even some would say on God.  I am the host of every gathering making sure that others are included.  I have to break the ice and remember names and be cordial or someone will tell someone that “those  Presbyterians” sure are  (fill in the blank with favorite derogatory remark spoken when feeling slighted.) 

I’m not complaining. I really do know that I signed up for this.  It comes along with everybody in my church knowing my salary and me knowing that someday I will have to leave this community after I leave the church.  But bluntly, there are some pretty great things that go along with this role too.  We pastors are really significant to people’s lives.  We get invited into holy moments where others are asked to stay out. We can walk into emergency rooms and bedsides and family gatherings.  We are handed babies to bless and are told family secrets.

And pastoring comes with some great perks, too.  I have enjoyed wonderful dinners, great bottles of wine, thoughtful gifts and some amazing opportunities to meet people because I am someone’s pastor.  I have met ambassadors, CEOs, celebrities, political figures and college presidents.  I sat at the head table of a gala event with a presidential cabinet member just because I was giving a prayer before dinner.  (A pastor friend of mine was whisked away to a Caribbean Island to perform a wedding for a big movie star.)  On top of that I am prayed for by literally dozens of people every day, I am always greeted warmly when I arrive at church, I am introduced to everyone’s friends and family members, I have a key to every room in the church.  I can walk into any meeting in our church, any conversation on our patio and interrupt whatever they are doing to say something…and they thank me for doing so. 

Now let’s be clear here.  And this is the thing most of us forget.  Tod Bolsinger cannot do any of this.  Tod Bolsinger, the person, isn’t all that interesting and really wouldn’t be invited to much of this.  Tod Bolsinger, the person, can’t interrupt anyone without being a rude, inconsiderate boob.  (If I try that at home, my 13 year old daughter says, “Daddy, you are interrupting.” ) But “THE PASTOR” can.  The Pastor is invited into all those places given all those perks and treated with such respect because of our ROLE and NOT our self.  While in order to be authentic I have to bring myself to my role, I can never forget that I am not my role.  When I confuse my role and my self, I inevitably take too much too personally and bear burdens that are meant for God and not any human. 

When people get angry or hurt, either mad at God or mad at the church, who do they focus their rage upon?  The Pastor.  When as Pastor of the church I have had to fire staff members, work with Session to cut budgets of key ministries, make decisions that others didn’t like or implement change others didn’t want, who gets the brunt of the attack? The Pastor.  Only when I am clear about the difference between my self and my role can I protect myself from taking the disappointment, anger, awkwardness, projections, and distance of others personally.

We pastors are only going to develop the staying power to stay in our positions if we first admit that this is really OUR problem.  Not only our congregants and the public-at-large, but WE continually confuse our “self” with our “role.”  And until we get clear that “I am more than my role” nobody else will either.

 

Clergy Burnout: What’s really causing it?

A recent blog post  by Philip Wagner on "The Secret Pain of Pastors" has created some good--and really necessary--conversation about the challenge of pastoral leadership today.  I'll add my two cents with a few re-posts  of blogs I wrote after the NY Times ran a similar article in 2010. These posts were written right at the time that I started coaching pastors and working on a book on leadership development.  Today, after 200 conversations with pastors, I'm more convinced than ever that there is a clergy leadership crisis that is only increasing. 

"The antidote to exhaustion is not rest but wholeheartedness."  David Whyte

A recent article in the New York Times on clergy burnout has been getting lots of attention amongst my pastor friends (and some kind church members who are concerned about me).  The article suggests (I think, accurately) that the cause is in large part the unhealthy professional boundaries between pastors and their congregations.  It also points to the reality that in our highly connected technological world, it is extremely difficult for a pastor to ever truly “vacation” from the congregation (Indeed, recently, I received word of the death of an infant in our congregation while I was at 30,000 feet winging my way to Italy on a family vacation.)  The article wisely encourages pastors to get better and more regular rest and offers some good resources.  And I wholeheartedly agree.

But, all the while affirming the need for regular days off, vacations, and sabbaticals (indeed: I enjoyed a glorious one four years ago), I want to ask my colleagues: Is that really what’s causing the burnout?  

The fact is that clergy and congregations have always had bad boundaries.  In previous generations, being eager to work all-hours and having one’s ego fed by the need to be needed was practically a pre-requisite to a call from God to ordination (not that I am affirming that!)  The truth is that most of us LOVE a good pastoral care crisis. It is the place where we are most competent and add the most value.  We pastors thrive on people being spiritual open to the presence of God in life and love nothing better than walking with searching souls in a journey of genuine authenticity.   Most Pastors will never admit this publicly but most of us would rather being officiating funerals than weddings.  (At a funeral people are far more open to spiritual things; at a wedding everybody wants to get on to the reception as quickly as possible.) 

So is the cause of burnout really too many souls in need of care?

A follow up article by a minister suggested that the cause of burnout is congregational consumerism.  People now demand that their pastors be part shrewd cultural commentator and part comic.  We must entertain, inspire and instruct a little, all the while never really challenging the worldview or tribal instincts that make us Christians seem little different than anyone else.  Mostly, people come to church to be affirmed, encouraged and given some tips to get God on their side in their self-improvement strivings for the good life.  We pastors, as my friend Charlie says, are expected to be Tony Robbins with prayer.

Again, I agree and this unhealthy expectation on the part of church-goers is undeniably part of the problem.   But is that the root cause?   Or are pastors and congregations not only suffering from bad boundaries, but also colluding to alleviate a deeper anxiety that plagues us all?

Here is my hunch:

Poet David Whyte famously wrote, “The antidote to exhaustion is not rest but wholeheartedness.”
We clergy are burning out because we have lost our wholeheartedness about pastoral ministry. 

By this, I DON’T mean our passion for the gospel or our commitment to the Kingdom of heaven (though that may be true for some).  I also DON’T mean our sense of call to serve people, to preach, teach, counsel, or care (though again, that may be true for some).  What I mean is that most of us are now asked to do a job that we didn’t sign up for, in circumstances that are far different than we expected.  The culture is changing and the church is in crisis and most of us were not trained for this.  And so we are less wholehearted than we once were and are unsure if we are up for the task that has been thrust upon us.

A couple of years ago I spoke for a group of Methodist Christian Educators in Maine.  After three lectures on the Kingdom of God and the Community of Faith, I was asked to do a “speaker talk-back” where anyone could come and ask me questions.  Of the 200 attenders of the conference, 60 came to my talk-back session.  I polled the room to ask what kind of questions they came to ask and soon found that one question was being asked by virtually everyone in the room.  It wasn’t a topic I had raised in my lectures.  It wasn’t a subject that the organizers had even planned to address.  But for the pastors, lay leaders and teachers in the room it was the only one they wanted to talk about:  “How can we keep our churches from dying?”   You could practically see the discouragement written on their faces.  We pastors are working harder than ever and not seeing results.  It’s like we are stuck in an aerobics class from hell.  We just keep running in place.

We pastors are exhausted because we are ambivalent.  We are ambivalent because we are sincerely called by God, deeply committed to minister to souls and eager to speak to the spiritual condition of life and, at the same time, we know that we are rapidly becoming irrelevant to many.  

Most of us were unprepared for how rapidly and demonstrably our culture was changing. Most churches (with a few obvious exceptions) are dying.  We pastors wanted to be at the helms of ships that would head bravely into the adventure of an open sea and a beautiful distant land.  Nobody told us that we were training to become captains of ships that are all slowly going down or being abandoned.  We are ambivalent because this isn’t the ministry or the context that we signed up for and we are burning out because we just don’t know what to do. 

Youth club sports is considered by most parents to be more important for forming the character of our children than the church.  Spirituality has become wildly popular but so deeply individualistic that the fastest growing “religious affiliations” amongst college students are “none” and “spiritual-not-religious”.  We pastors who were trained to teach those who show up, to care for those who call for help, to lead those who will volunteer and to administer the resources of those who willingly give are now called upon to minister to a passing parade of people who treat us like we are but one option in their personal salad-bar of spirituality. 

We are in uncharted terrain trying to lead mostly dying churches into a post-Christian culture that now considers the church as an optional, out of touch and irrelevant relic of the past.  Most people think of pastors not as experts of the soul for the big questions of life, but as curators of the flat earth society or pawns for a political action committee.  To make matters worse, we pastors who used to be held in such high-esteem are now just assumed to be charlatans or pedophiles or widow-fleecing fundraisers. When masses of ordinary people want spiritual insight they turn to Oprah, not the church.  And committed church goers and church leaders are panicked about it. 

Burnout comes from not only bad boundaries and trying to meet unhealthy expectations, but also from an ambivalence born of uncertainty about our own competence and relevance. 

Most of us got into this because of the Bible and people.  We wanted to teach the Bible and care for people.  We felt called to nurture the souls of people and communities of faith.  So when we are doing those things (even with some not-so-good boundaries) we are mostly fine.  Most of us also understand and acknowledge that there is a difference between felt needs and real needs and that there is always a degree of work involved in reaching often distracted people with our messages. (Isn’t that why we work so hard on getting good illustrations, jokes, even videos for our sermons?) 

But, most of us weren’t called and don’t feel equipped to be change-leaders in a rapidly changing world.  But that is the reality and that is our call.  Until we wholeheartedly dedicate ourselves to that reality and that call and all the ways that we pastors are going to need to learn, and grow and change ourselves (grieve our own losses along the way) to be relevant in that changing world, we will just continue to live on the verge of burning out and giving up.

Clergy Burnout: And Why I am Taking on MORE work.

A recent blog post  by Philip Wagner on "The Secret Pain of Pastors" has created some good--and really necessary--conversation about the challenge of pastoral leadership today.  I'll add my two cents with a few re-posts  of blogs I wrote after the NY Times ran a similar article in 2010. These posts were written right at the time that I started coaching pastors and working on a book on leadership development.  Today, after 200 conversations with pastors, I'm more convinced than ever that there is a clergy leadership crisis that is only increasing. 

I didn't need to read the Facebook posts on the recent NY Times article, I had received an email this morning from a friend.  He told me that he is taking a leave of absence from his church. 

The irony of the timing is both sad and palpable.  I just returned from my 8th trip to the top of Half Dome in Yosemite National Park with a group of high school seniors from my church (including my own son). I also, spent two days with 110 of our church's youth at our annual summer camp. They are a happy, fun bunch who shout out "P-Tod" (for "Pastor Tod") whenever I enter the room.  They not only did usual camp stuff like games, and music and rock-climbing and banana boating, but also spent half a day in a silent retreat practicing spiritual disciplines and reflecting on their life with God.  I have an amazing youth ministry team on my staff.  I had to choke back tears when I talked about the church members who volunteered to be counselors and service corp for this week with the kids.

One of my very best friends is my associate pastor.  We get to plan worship together every week.  I get to study and teach the Bible every day. I lead communion. I work with a great staff team, and I support really committed lay-leaders who are doing things like building houses in Baja California, ministering to the poor in Malawi, Africa, offering care for the sick and shut in, teaching children the faith and sharing the gospel in both English and Spanish language services.

I love my job. Which is why I was saddened by the article that has been posted and re-posted by so many of my pastor friends this morning on Facebook. According to the NY Times headline , most clergy don't.  (Saddened, but not surprised, however.)

Clergy are fat, stressed and depressed.  We take more anti-depressants than the people in our pews.  We aren't expected to live as long either.  The Times only confirms what most didn't want to say out loud: "Many (pastors) would change jobs if they could." 

The Times article quotes health care experts who are wisely cautious about suggesting quick fixes, but mostly it rightly focuses on the "boundary issues" between pastors and congregations that keep many of us feeling as if we don't have a life beyond the pulpit. It's a good article.  It should be read by both clergy and lay leaders who work alongside us.  It's really important.  (If nothing else, the article points to some really helpful resources--one of which, the Lilly Endowment's The National Clergy Renewal Program funded my sabbatical in 2006.)    

But, for me, there is an affirmation of a call in all of this. When I first came to San Clemente, Al Sloan, one of the elders who had been on the nominating committee, came to me and said, "Tod, my wife Enid and I are committed to seeing that you and your family have a great ministry and a great life.  Whatever you need from us, we'll do."  And they did. 

Through the years, Al's promise to me has become my promise to my staff  team and my colleague: To have a great ministry and a great life.  To serve God without losing your soul.  To minister to others without mistreating our families.  To nurture a community of faith that nurtures the abundant life for all. To lead a church that is both healthy and faithful, every family--including pastors' families--experience a way of living and leading that is truly fruitful.

So, this morning, fresh off an experience that reminds me of why I love being a pastor; deeply aware of how many of my colleagues don't; and with a sense that "where much is given, much is required" (the verse that my pastor Lloyd Ogilvie used in my ordination charge), I feel more called than ever to work alongside churches and pastors to help us all have a great ministry and a great life.

For the past two months, I have been preparing to start working as a church consultant and executive coach for pastors with TAG Consulting's Transforming Church Team.  Starting this month, I will be spending a couple of days each month working alongside pastors and church leadership teams helping them to look at the ways they need to grow as leaders in order to be both healthy and fruitful in a changing and demanding world.  I'll be able to share what I have been learning and I'll be able to keep growing as a pastor and leader, too. And everything I learn, I'll share here. 

 

Related articles

Mind the Gap: The Practices of Adaptive Leadership