My Greatest Concerns as a Leader

I grew up as a boy without much leadership, at least in the conventional sense. No dad, no mother after a drunk driver killed them both when I was just 2 years old—only a loving grandmother who did the best she could for me on a tiny government pension. It’s rather amazing, I suppose, that I ended up becoming a pastor.

For 22 years, my wife and I planted and continued to lead a church in Virginia’s capital city. Thereafter, I was asked to be a district superintendent, a “pastor to pastors” across the Potomac region. Along the way, I’ve always tried to study what makes leadership work, how it functions, and who are the best models.

Here are three concerns I carry about myself as a leader:

1. That my ministry career might somehow substitute for my personal relationship with God. I really do not want that to happen. The truth is, what we all do in church ministry is not necessarily conducive to staying fresh in our spiritual walk.

2. That my ministry might be crippled by distortions I don’t recognize—for example, a controlling tendency or insecurity or personal fears that bind me. That’s why I give permission to people around me to talk with me about what I’m not seeing.

3. That I might succeed in things that don’t actually matter. Dr. Leonard Sweet, from Drew Theological School, is famous for saying that when we lie down to sleep at night, we should say, “What did I do today that was worth Christ dying for?” I don’t want to climb any ladder only to find that it’s leaning against the wrong wall.

I believe in taking these areas seriously. As Paul wrote, “Examine yourselves to see whether you are in the faith; test yourselves” (2 Cor. 13:5, NIV).

I’m also concerned, as I keep watching the contemporary American church, about three additional things:

1. That we will professionalize the ministry. Yes, I believe in doing things well. But this is more than a profession or a career: it’s a calling. 

2. That we will institutionalize the church. It’s not just an organization to be tweaked by a bunch of engineers. It is organic, dynamic.

3. That we will secularize our theology. Of course I’m in favor of being friendly and understandable to guests, but if that means adjusting our theology to suit them, to fit the culture, we are on a dead-end track. There will always be a certain amount of tension in the Christian message that cannot be erased. “The offense of the cross” (Gal. 5:11) is unavoidable.

There’s a golf commercial that says, “Bobby Jones worked on his swing, not his score. That is how he became the best golfer of his generation.” As leaders, we must work on our swing. The score will then take care of itself.

The work of God deserves no less than the best we can give to it. This is a high calling—and a high privilege.