Pulpit vs. pew

Jesus set the standard for all Christian authority figures when, on the night of his arrest, he took a servant’s towel and knelt to wash his followers’ feet. Despite the disciples’ protests, the Lord took on the lowest task of the least powerful.

Jesus’s actions came in the context of his previous teaching. “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant” (Matt. 20:25-27).

Servant leadership, however, is not always the reality. You’ve seen the headlines about pastors who abused their power: Mike Pivalachi in the UK, Mark Driscoll in the U.S. and – locally for me – the leader of a little international church in South Korea. Here’s the pattern: a pastor makes decisions and is unchallenged. Truth-telling takes second place to loyalty. Official messaging spins a toxic situation in a positive light. Leaders dismiss concerns as “gossip” or “slander.” Scriptures around headship or hierarchy take higher precedence than verses about mutual submission or servant-like behavior.

And when allegations finally come out into the open, congregations feel forced to choose: will they believe their spiritual mentor or his alleged victim(s)? In the worst cases, church can become a place where, as Angela Reitsma Bick wrote in 2022, “justice often hits a brick wall of bad theology and institutional self-protection.” But nothing could be further from God’s vision for those leading his church.

Investigation close to home

My pastor went through a bullying investigation a few years ago. Unlike many of the huge churches implicated in bullying cases, we were a small church in South Korea. Our community was close, truly like siblings. When the bullying allegations arose, it was dear friends accusing our pastor, and it was dear friends who closed ranks to defend him.

I felt caught between two groups of people I loved. When I’d read about Willow Creek or Mars Hill, the stories seemed to have clear good guys and bad guys. But now that it was people I knew, everything seemed more gray. Accusations seemed credible – until I heard the other side.
Even as I lamented the pain on both sides, I became obsessed with getting this situation right. I felt the pressure to walk through it with a moral perfection impossible for a human this side of heaven to achieve. Looking back, I wish I could advise myself, “You’re going to make some mistakes. Pray for wisdom, get wise counsel, and move forward in faith.” No one is perfect: anyone dealing with conflict in the church needs an extra measure of grace. And I hope the following words of encouragement – first to leaders, then to church members – can help in a season of uncertainty and sorrow.

Advice to Church Leadership

First, consider the power structures at your church. Decisions should not rest entirely with the pastor; human nature can rarely handle that kind of power without corruption. Establish governance structures that check absolute power. More importantly, foster a truth-telling culture within those checks. Establish the kind of church culture that Scot McKnight and Laura Barringer describe in A Church Called Tov, where leaders receive pushback not as a threat but as welcome input.

Second, establish regular communication structures. Before, during and after conflict, people need open channels of communication. Church leaders often roundly condemn gossip in cases of church investigation. We can agree that malicious gossip destroys relationships, but talking openly about real problems that need to be solved is not the same thing as whispering slander. If there is not a clear, sanctioned channel for feedback, believe me – we’ll still be talking. It will just happen in church parking lots instead of council rooms. When leaders stop listening, discontent begins festering.

A healthier approach is to give people channels and chances to talk with leadership about the good and the bad. If the community has undergone conflict, be ready to talk about it for much longer than you want to. Sometimes I hear pastors who are frustrated who feel impatient to “move on already.” Settle in. This will take a while. Breaking trust takes one incident. Rebuilding trust takes years.

Third, emphasize care, not submission; church trauma is the wrong time to evoke church authority. During and after allegations, those in power must work overtime to demonstrate tenderness, humility, a hunger for genuine reconciliation, and a genuine grief for all those wounded. After firing two staff members who had challenged him, Mark Driscoll joked that there was a “heap of dead bodies behind the Mars Hill bus.” Don’t be Driscoll. Bring a spirit of compassion and humility to the table. Model gentleness, not authoritarianism.

Finally, confess and change. Be quick to admit where you’ve done wrong. Be frank about the logs in your own eye and vulnerable enough to confess as appropriate. Confession deeply aids healing.

In our own church, a few months after the findings of the mediation committee, our head pastor confessed publicly, “I have made the success of this church my identity. I have made it an idol, and I’m sorry.” For me, that was a turning point in our story. It gave me hope for a healthy future.

If the confession is to have any meaning, of course, we must see it followed by repentance and restoration. Apologies without action birth cynicism, not hope. Use this season to identify behaviors, policies, or practices that might hurt people again – and change.

Three Words to Church Members

For my brothers and sisters in the pews, whether you are reeling under a recent allegation or seeking healing from an earlier experience, I want to share three things that helped me.

First, expect conflict. Intimacy guarantees it! If you stick around long enough, conflict in the church is going to happen. That it is predictable doesn’t make it less painful. It was devastating to witness vitriol and severed relationships between friends who had held each others’ babies, mourned each other’s losses and spent thousands of hours breaking bread or worshiping together.

But Scripture tells us there’s precedent, and that is strangely comforting. Christ’s disciples fought with each other, tussling over who was most important. The Spirit-anointed early church struggled with fraud, racial inequality and heresy. Even Peter and Paul butted heads multiple times.

As stones being built together into a living temple, we’re going to scrape against each other’s hard edges sometimes. Or, to use another New Testament analogy for the church, we are a family – and what family doesn’t fight? If you are able to, stay and fight. Fight for the health of the church. Fight by fasting and praying.

Secondly, acknowledge different roles. God appoints us to different roles during an investigation. Ask God how you can serve him and his church in this situation. In the Spirit’s leading and by his power, play the part God calls you to.

I’m a question-asker and a sympathetic listener. During our investigation, I spent a lot of time listening to and sharing different people’s perspectives. Granted, I’m naïve enough to think that if people could just hear each other out, they’d reconcile. I was mostly wrong. But even though my listening didn’t solve everything, I still believe it was my part to play. And it helped me pray with great urgency and specificity as the situation unfolded.

Other friends had other callings during that time. My husband, for example, had a role in shaping our church’s first constitution, helping prevent future power imbalances by establishing more structure, clear communication and accountability. Still another friend became an advocate, amplifying the voices of those who felt bullied and disempowered, insisting their stories be taken seriously. And still another friend went into nurture mode, feeding everyone involved.

Everyone had a vital part to play. It can be tough when a friend is called in another direction, but it’s important to acknowledge the validity of our different roles.

Lastly, check your bias. Our natural gifting or role can also show up as its shadow-side: bias. In our church’s situation, I brought a default assumption that the leaders were right. As a natural peacemaker, there were plenty of times I should have challenged the people who were not only my leaders but also my friends. But I stayed quiet. Others in the scenario were natural advocates, gung-ho to protect the vulnerable. They were, perhaps, too quick to assume evil corruption in power where there was only immaturity and lack of structure; they were too angry to see the mixed motives of those in their own faction.

It takes Spirit-filled self-reflection to know your natural bent and correct for it. Other believers who know you well can help. Advocates, guard against arrogance and self-righteousness. Peacemakers, guard against cowardice and quiet resentment. Idealists, pay attention to your escapist or numbing behaviors. Skeptics, dare to dream of a better future. Here in the now and not-yet, church community is complicated. We can take steps to prevent spiritual bullying from happening, however, and to counter it when it is revealed. May the Lord grant us grace, discernment, structures of accountability and humility in both pulpit and pew.