How to tell you’re no leader

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Woe unto you when all men speak well of you, for so did their fathers to the false prophets. (Luke 6:26)

Let’s just come right out and say it up front:

Unless someone is not constantly on your case, mad at you, irritated, and upset with you all the time, you are no leader.

The would-be leader who fails to recognize this will be constantly bewildered by the reactions of the people he has been sent to serve.

He comes into a church with a divine mandate. (This is not pious talk. He has been called by the Heavenly Father into this ministry and sent by Him to this church. If that’s not a divine mandate, nothing is.) He proceeds to take the reins and lead out. To his utter amazement, the very people he expected to welcome his ministry, to support his vision, to affirm his godliness, to volunteer their service–those very people–stand back and carp and criticize and find fault.

This was the last thing he expected.

Because he’s human, he begins to wonder: Did I make a mistake in coming here? Am I doing something wrong? Are these people not God’s children? Should I stay? Should I leave?

My answer: You’re doing just fine, preacher. Stay the course.

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The church’s dirty little secret

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“Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there…” (Ephesians 4:14).

“Church is the only place on earth where people can throw hissy fits and get away with it.”  –a friend serving his first church after seminary.

My minister friend seemed to think he had made a discovery about the kingdom, something few people knew.

I told him I was sorry he had to learn this dirty little secret about church life.

I asked for the story that had led to this discovery.  He had two.

A church member attending his class complained because she could not find her workbook. The pastor told her he had borrowed it for another class, and she was welcome to use his.  She said, “Okay. I’ll go home then.”

And she stalked out.

The minister said, “Would she have done that at work?  At the doctor’s office? I think not.”

But she had no problem with putting her immaturity on full display at church.

On another day, a man stormed out of a church leadership meeting because his idea for a fundraiser had been rejected.

My friend said, “Would he have done that in a college class?  At work?  At home?  At the store even?”

He would not have.  And this guy was a church leader!

The church–which is the institution which we Christians should respect most– ends up being the least respected by many.  And the pastor the least respected professional.

My friend said, “Situations like these used to keep me up at night. By God’s grace, they don’t any more.”

I’m sorry anyone has to learn this reality about church life; I’m glad my friend is sleeping at night.

A couple of observations come to mind, neither of them original with me.

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Battle scars: They come from serving God and dealing with His people

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From now on let no one cause trouble for me, for I bear on my body the brand-marks of Jesus (Galatians 6:17).

“…I bear branded on my body the owner’s stamp of the Lord Jesus” –the Moffett translation.

“…I bear on my body the scars that mark me as a slave of Jesus” –Goodspeed.

At Mississippi State University, the Kenyan student carried horizontal scars across his face.  “Identification marks for my tribe,” he explained to me.  Wow.  Tough clan.

We were returning from the cemetery in the mortuary’s station wagon.  The director and I were chatting and did not notice the pickup truck coming from our right and running the stop sign. We broadsided the truck.

My forehead broke the dashboard.

I bled and bled.  And got a ride to the hospital in the EMS van.

The emergency room people decided I had suffered no serious injuries and taped up the two gashes in my face.  At the wedding rehearsal that night, I sported a large white bandage on my forehead, just above the eyebrows. It made for some memorable wedding photos the next day.

That happened nearly 40 years ago and I still carry the scars right between my eyebrows.  They look like frown marks, but they’re not.

They are scars from serving the Lord.

My wife Bertha, bride of over six years now, says her husband Gary had scars in the same place, also from the ministry.  “We were walking to our church in the French Quarter,” she said. “Suddenly, a woman screamed and ran toward us, yelling ‘Don’t let him get me!’  Someone, perhaps an angry husband, was chasing her in a car.  Gary handed me our child and told me to get back.  He positioned himself between the woman and one very angry man.  In the scuffle, the man hit Gary right between the eyes, causing a deep gash.”

Bertha said, “I don’t remember what happened next, and know nothing of the outcome of that couple.  But we had to go to a clinic quickly.  Gary carried the scar from that fight the rest of his life.”

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Some weddings you never forget. As much as you’d like to.

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Most of us pastors will take a funeral over a wedding any day.

A funeral requires no rehearsal. There are no formal meals or receptions involved. There is no mother of the bride–or bridezilla!–insisting that it be done her way.

The minister simply stands in front of the honored guest, does his thing, says his prayers, everyone enjoys a couple of great songs, and we all go our way.

With weddings, a thousand things can go wrong.  The bride and her mother argue, bridesmaids sometimes see how risque’ they can dress, and the groomsmen how rambunctious they can behave.  You have a wedding director who may or may not be capable. (Pastors will take a drill sergeant from Parris Island any day over a lazy director who has no idea all the bad things that can happen the next day.)

Weddings have a hundred moments where slipups can occur and trouble can happen.  Brides are late to church, grooms forget the rings, someone has been drinking, the flower girl is crying, photographers are arguing, the wedding director is pulling her hair out, and the caterer is trying to get paid. The candles either did not arrive, will not light, or are dripping wax on the carpet. The limo is late bringing the maids and the bride because, this being his third wedding of the day, each one took more time than he had allowed, so instead of arriving at the church at 6:30 for a 7:00 wedding, the limousine pulls in at 7:45.

Charles and I were standing outside the sanctuary waiting for the musical cue from the organist signaling time for us to enter. He was marrying a lovely young lass whose father was an Air Force officer. We had done the obligatory pre-marital counseling sessions, although they both seemed reluctant and uninvolved, like this was something they wanted to get over.  My watch said “Two o’clock,” but the organist kept playing.  He and I had done a hundred weddings before, so I knew to listen for the Trumpet Voluntare and not to enter until he sounded it out.

Something was amiss.

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How not to write humor

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Don’t try too hard to be funny.

Don’t announce that you are now being funny.

Do not force it if this does not come naturally to you.

Find your own way of expressing the humor you feel in life.

Remembering that the best laugh comes from the surprise at the end of a good story, therefore, experiment with the best way to say that.

That’s also how to remember a good joke or story you’ve heard: Remember the punch line.  If you remember that exactly right, you can recall the rest of the story by working backward in it.  But the greatest single thing about telling a joke is getting the punch line right.

Again, though, surprise your hearers with it.

My granddaughter was six and we were at the swing in her front yard, doing what grandpas and little darlings do. We were singing and laughing and cutting up. At one point she said, “We’re being silly, aren’t we, grandpa.”  I said, “Yes, we are. Why do we like to be so silly?”

She said, “It’s a family tradition.”

Complete surprise, totally out of left field.  And a perfect story. It’s brief, it’s cute (people love children stories), and it fits any number of situations.  I tell it when I’m talking to seniors about their grandchildren, when I’m talking to groups about humor, and when I’m preaching on the family (“That’s a great tradition to have. What is your family tradition?”)

In telling it, however, I must not let myself signal ahead of time that “Okay, cute story coming up” or “Speaking of family traditions….”

Just tell it. The story will do the work.

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How to write humor

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I wonder if I’m qualified to speak/write on this subject.

You’re wondering why I’m addressing the subject of writing humor when so many “real” writers with impressive resumes are available.  Good question.

The short answer is that I come cheap. The longer answer is that I come really, really cheap. Like, I’d do it for nothing, you know?

After all, Dave Barry could not be with us today.

And Erma Bombeck and Art Buchwald couldn’t come either, tied up as they are teaching similar classes on a much higher level. In heaven, actually.

I assume. I hope.

I’m betting people laugh a lot in Heaven. After all, they made it.  So, what’s not to be happy about?

Anyway, my first point:  He who would write humor must first learn to write.  Period.  Okay?

What else?  Okay, here are Joe’s ten guidelines (suggestions? commandments? ironclad rules? whatever) for writing humor….

–1) Most importantly, you should learn to write really really good.  I said that already? Okay.

–2) Don’t use “good” when you intend to say “well” or “effectively.”

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What did you do in the war, Daddy?

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“As his share who goes down to the battle, so shall his share be who stays by the baggage: they shall share alike” (I Samuel 30:24).

When Roland Q. Leavell returned home to the States from the “Great War” in Europe–what would come to be called the First World War–he had a problem.  People wanted to hear stories of the war, of battles, of heroism. The problem was he didn’t have any.

Roland Q. Leavell was in his 20s, single, and with a bachelor’s degree from seminary.  He had pastored small churches and had been sent to “the front” as a representative of the YMCA.  In those days, there was no USO to take care of American troops overseas, and fledgling organizations and ministries were still trying to figure these things out.

According to Dottie L. Hudson’s book “He Still Stands Tall: The Life of Roland Q. Leavell,” based on her father’s diaries, Roland did a hundred small things in his efforts for the Y:  He led Bible studies, he counseled soldiers, he ran a canteen, he taught French to a few soldiers, and he drove an ambulance.  At one point, he inhaled poisonous gas the Boches sprayed into the air. The one time he shot a gun was as a joke, pointed into the air across no-man’s-land.  “I guess I didn’t kill over 50,” he remarked in his diary.

And when he got home, people wanted to hear his stories.

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12 things pastors should do promptly–and 5 they shouldn’t!

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Do these things promptly…

    1. Confess sins.  “Keep short accounts with God,” it’s called.
    2. Write thank you notes.
    3. Write notes of appreciation.  “Great song Sunday.”  “I hear great things about your class.”
    4. When inspiration for a sermon or an article  comes in the middle of the night, it must be recorded then or, count on it, you’ll never remember it.  Keep a pad by the bedside.
    5. When you agree to do a friend  a favor–write a letter of recommendation, call on a patient in a hospital, whatever–do it immediately or you will never do it.
    6. Jot down a story, illustration, or thought for a sermon that occurs to you.  If you’re in the car alone, look for an exit and get off the highway so you can write this down.  I’ve sometimes asked my wife to make a note for me as we drove.
    7. Pray for someone when prompted by the Spirit.  When I spot someone who reminds me of a person I knew years ago, I take that as an impulse to pray for them.

And these things, too–

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Ministers, get all the education you can. Then, never mention your degrees!

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“Beware of Pharisees.  They love the place of honor at banquets and the chief seats in the synagogues, and respectful greetings in the market places, and being called by men, Rabbi.  But do not be called Rabbi; for One is your Teacher, and you are all brothers; and do not call anyone on earth your father; for One is your Father, He who is in heaven.  And do not be called leaders, for One is your Leader, that is, Christ.  But the greatest among you shall be your servant.” Matthew 23

Pastor, when given a choice–and you always have a choice–try not to look and act like a Pharisee.  For my money, the best way–the very best way in the universe to come across as a big-shot–is to use this phrase: “When I got my doctorate…”

I’m not sure why that sets me off, but it does.  And I haven’t the slightest idea whether it’s only me or the rest of the universe.

Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, that phrase is completely unnecessary and is inserted only to call attention to oneself, to make sure the hearers fall to their knees in abject horror.  “Oh my, you have a doctorate?! You must be of superior intelligence, far beyond most mortals.”  “Forgive me for thinking you put your pants on one leg at a time!”

The plain truth is doctorates are over-rated. There are people with earned doctorates who scarcely know how to sign their name or use the telephone.

The chairman of a search committee said to me, “Should we be concerned that this preacher does not have a doctorate?”  I said, “My friend, I know people with doctorates who have a hard time putting two sentences together. Those degrees are easy to come by these days and are vastly over-rated.  Pay attention to the pastor’s preaching, listen to his conversation, and get to know the man.  But ignore the absence of a doctorate.”

I assured him his candidate was a godly minister of the gospel whom he would come to appreciate in the years ahead.

Two years later, that chairman went out of his way to thank me. The pastor, whom they had called to their church, was doing splendid work far beyond anything they had a right to expect.  And they call him by the finest title I’ve ever known: “Pastor.”

If you are the preacher, get all the education you can, by all means.  And then, never mention it again.  Never. Mention. It. Again.

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“Oh! How long it’s been since I’ve seen you!”

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Wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God” (Hebrews 11:16). 

What do you do when you know you should recognize a person, but you can’t find their name in your head?  My answer: Admit it, and save yourself some stress.

Not everyone agrees, however.

Songwriter Robert Sherman was attending the birthday party for Will Durant, the 85-year-old who with his wife Ariel had recently produced the enormous set of volumes on The History of Civilization.  It was a feat of incredible magnitude for which they had won all kinds of awards.

One month earlier, Sherman had spent several hours with Dr. Durant during which they discussed literature and film.  But now, in the crowded reception, as they greet one another, Durant just cannot place Sherman.  He knows he’s supposed to know him but cannot get beyond that.

Bob Sherman said Dr. Durant would stare, smile, and try to make the connection. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

Finally, Durant said, “It’s good of you to come.  It’s been a long time since I have seen you.  Too long.”

Sherman, relating this story in Moose: Chapters from my Life, called Durant’s words  “an all purpose statement.”

And, he says, Sherman understands the problem.  The older we get, the more prone we are to forgetfulness.

In his retirement years, news anchor Walter Cronkite loved to visit with friends in his boat off Martha’s Vineyard.  Now, he was hard of hearing but rarely admitted it.  When Cronkite, his wife, and friends stopped at a lakeside store, they went inside.  Some stranger greeted him and asked him a question.  He figured it was “do you know this person or that?”  So, Cronkite answered, “We get together once in a while, but I’ve not seen him lately.”  Later, in the boat, his wife said, “Do you know what that man asked you?”  “No, not really.”  She: “He asked if you know the Lord Jesus as your Savior?”

Do you have a similar story?  Here is one of mine.

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