Tod Bolsinger

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: 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. 

 

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Hemorrhaging Pastors

Reposting this from a couple of years back. This story, sadly, is becoming far too common.  I will use this to kick off a new discussion about the training pastors need in a post-christendom day.

Three. In one day. 

On Monday, I heard of three of my pastor friends who all resigned this week.  No affairs, no scandal, no one is renouncing faith.  But three, really good, experienced, pastors all turned in resignations and walked away.  Two are leaving church ministry all together.

The details are as different as the pastors themselves, but the common thread is that they finally got worn down by trying to bring change to a church system that was stuck.

I have been hearing from more pastors these days.  Some of it is related to my work with TAG Consulting, a lot of it is because I am, well, one of them.  We chat and email and text and the common thread is always the same: “The church is stuck and we don’t know what to do.”

Stuck and declining. Stuck and clinging to the past. Stuck and lurching to quick fixes, trying to find an easy answer for what is clearly a systemic challenge. (“If only you could preach better, pastor!” “If only you were more ‘pastoral’ and caring, pastor!”  “If only our worship was more dynamic, pastor!” “Please, pastor, DO something…That is what we pay you for isn’t it?”)

In some cases, the leaders of the church had turned on the pastor making him the scapegoat.  In others, there was a sense that the church just wanted to stop any change process.  For some, they are early in their tenures and are trying to get at the core issues early and bravely, looking squarely at what Jim Colllins calls “the brutal facts.”  But most of them are so far into their ministry at the church that it seems like whatever they do is too little too late.  After trying so hard, it seems that the church just gave up and hunkered down.  As one of my friends said, “This church has gone deaf to my voice.”  And soon after the finger-pointing begins, immediately followed by a big severance, a disillusioned pastor and a crippled church.

Most of my pastor friends acknowledge that they contributed in some way to the very circumstances that are forcing them out of the calling they love.  All of us acknowledge that seminary didn’t prepare us for this.  But, trying to rise to the occasion, they find themselves facing a wall of resistance that quickly turns into a voice of rejection.  The underlying, unspoken issue seems to be: “If only the pastor would stop trying to lead us and just pastor us, then we’d be fine.” 

Except we are not fine.  The culture is changing, the world is changing and churches are facing change on an unprecedented scale.  We are heading into uncharted territory and pastors and lay leaders need to learn to lead a mission together where there are real obstacles, real challenges and where the future is nothing like the past.

Until we do, we’ll keep bleeding pastors and we will watch our churches wither away.

Where is the Leader's "Dress Rehearsal"?

Where do leaders safely learn to fail? Where do we get a chance to learn how much we still have to learn?  Where do we get the experience of missing our marks, of flubbing the lines and tripping our roles without ruining the whole 'production'?

Darcy Rice is one of the elders in my church and widely respected theater arts teacher at a local high school.  He is really good at what he does.  Here he discusses the good fortune of having a bad dress rehearsal.

"I use every teaching skill and performance trick I have accumulated over many years as an actor, director, writer and teacher. I explain, encourage, cajole, insist, cheerlead, demonstrate and inspire. I do whatever it takes to get the best performance from every member of the cast. But ultimately, they must be allowed to fail.

This is the secret weapon of the first dress rehearsal. By allowing students to fail while still in the protected environment of rehearsal, we are giving them the greatest educational opportunity possible. Through a myriad of mistakes, dropped lines, misplaced props, mangled dances and the inevitable missed entrance, students are forced to take responsibility for their own work. It is through these “mistakes” that the greatest learning happens. The student who misses his entrance, and accepts personal responsibility for doing so, will never miss that entrance again."

Do we who work with younger leaders give them places to fail while protected?  And where do those of us who are often in the spotlight get the opportunity to work on and work out the things we don't yet have 'down'?  For me, being a supervisor to younger staff and a coach to leaders is an opportunity to keep cultivating a culture of rehearsal and learning.  Creating environments for every leader to be a learners is what good leadership is really about.

With thanks to Darcy Rice and you can find the rest of this good article here.

Gus and Hal PLANT a Church: A Vision to Move Churches Forward.

Gus can’t walk, Hal is blind.  Alone they would each be what we sometime call “shut ins”.  Octogenarians both, they don’t get around very easily on their own.  But put them together, as they usually are, and those limitations don’t limit then all that much.  Gus sits in his wheelchair and gives direction, Hal pushes the wheelchair and follows Gus’ lead and together they get to where they want to go.

The first time I thought about Gus and Hal was at the New Church Development Conference that our church hosted for the Presbyterian Church (USA) Church Growth ministry.  The NCD pastors and team members in attendance were given an assignment to practice their observation and analysis skills in our community.  Teams spread out over a twenty mile radius and then came back with reports on what they saw.  As each team reported in, I scribbled notes.  It was as if I had been lent the eyes of a church planter to see my own community. 

But there was another tone to the church planter’s reports.  Sitting in the midst of our recently refurbished church campus, most of them couldn’t help but feel wistful at the abundance of opportunities they could see, and the lack of resources that they had (especially compared to our “established” church).  That is when it dawned on me.  The church planters are Gus: they can see but they don’t have the means to get to the needs.  The established churches, like my own are Hal: they have the energy to push, but can’t always see the need or opportunity.   Alone, we don’t move.  Together--Hal pushing Gus, Gus leading Hal--we travel into the midst of new places to do new things we could never do alone. 

In other posts, I offered Gus and Hal and their collaborative partnership as an opportunity for pastors to ward off burnout by returning to a vision of leadership that is closer to the New Testament model of partnership.  I have also suggested that the key for Gus and Hal (and Lewis and Clark) was to be humbly aware of our limitations, but focused on using our strengths.  In this post, I want to suggest that we consider this model for whole congregations. 

What would happen in our denomination if every church had a partner new church development?  What if for every blind, but energized Hal, there was a visionary, but lame Gus?  What would happen if each church saw the possibilities of this kind of collaborative partnership for both congregations?  Even more, what would happen for the mission of Christ?

Gus and Hal Get out into the World: Living Beyond Limitations

Last post I introduced you to two widowers at my church, Gus and Hal.  Gus can’t walk, Hal is blind.  Either one of those disabilities is enough to discourage most of us, let alone a couple of 80 year old widowers who are feeling the effects of age and loss.  You wouldn’t begrudge either one if they decided to stay home and watch SportsCenter (well, Gus anyway) or listen to books on tape.  Oftentimes losses lead to a lesser experience of life.  We become more aware of our limitations and we, well, limit ourselves.  And indeed, in time that will be the case with all of us.

But Gus and Hal together don’t let limitations limit them quite so much.  And the key word is “together”.  When they come to church, they come together.  Gus sits in his wheelchair and guides Hal, who pushes the wheelchair and lets Gus give direction.  Gus can see, Hal can move and together they get out into the world.

The secret to their partnership is both simple and profound. 

1. They are keenly aware of their limitations, but they focus on their strengths. 
2. They have partnered together around their strengths. 

And you don’t have to have a degenerative eye disease or be an amputee to know that what is true of Gus and Hal is true for all of us.  We all have limitations and we all have strengths.  The accepted wisdom is that in order to be successful in life, one needs to continually focus on improving one’s weaknesses.  The assumption being that a truly good life is a life of self-contained, self-reliant independence. 

Gus and Hal challenge that assumption and demonstrate the difference of what partnership can do.  If Gus tried to get around on his own, he wouldn’t get very far.  He could likely push his own wheelchair for a while but when his arms gave out he’d be done.  If Hal wanted to get out and about into the world, he’d be limited also, but by focusing on Gus’ good eyes and Hal’s strong legs and back, together they go further than they ever could alone.

Recently, in my work with TAG Consulting, I was trained in CoreClarity.  CoreClarity is a tool that builds upon Strengthfinders to help people know and maximize their innate talents.  It’s an interesting and helpful tool that is being used by corporations, non-profits, international ministries and churches (like I am doing with my staff) to help people focus more on their strengths and less on trying to improve on their weaknesses.

The studies done on focusing on turning talents into strengths are pretty clear.  If people can honestly accept the truth about their strengths and weaknesses, those who put most of their energy into using and developing their strengths (instead of overcoming their weaknesses) are far more successful, energized and passionate about life.  Partnerships that build around a diversity of strengths create more successful teams AND allow each person to function in the areas where they are most talented, animated and have the most to contribute. 

They key to living beyond limitations:  Awareness of limitations, developing strengths and collaborating with others.

So, where do you put most of your energy?  Overcoming your own weaknesses in search of an elusive (and lonely) self-sufficiency?  Or enjoying and developing your talents into strengths in partnership with others?