In Hide and Seek, remaining hidden is fine until we've won; then, it's time to come out and enjoy our freedom. 
"Ollie, ollie, oxen free," someone would shout when the seeker found one of the other hiders; the rest of us emerged gloating.
There are other reasons to hide. Someone abused hides from their abuser. The safety is necessary, but will it last, and what justice makes the innocent hide while the monster remains free?
Many of us hide to protect ourselves from being hurt again, embarrassed or found out to be inadequate, gross, and unloved. Freedom is completely foreign territory, so hiding works even if it's a miserable concession. 
Before becoming a Christian, I would hide things I'd be ashamed to have others find. I'd be lying if I told you I still don't hide things, not as dark or shameful, but hidden anyway. 
We hide presents with anticipation and joy. We can't wait for the recipient to open it. 
And God knows about hiding. Christ hides his followers from the cruel judgment of a world that insists we fall in line, produce, impress, and stay out of the losers' bracket. 
Can we enjoy Christ as our hiding place and still make a case that we belong with the winners?
And what if we follow Christ and objectively end up in the losers' bracket? What then? Is Christ then just for the losers? Do we hide in Christ, but only apprehensively; undoubtedly, when he finds me, he'll be a furious Gunnery Sergeant Carter and I a comboobish Gomer Pyle, left only with "Golly, Shazam" to tell him.
I enjoy being hidden in Christ so long as I don't have to meet anyone important enough to judge me. Then, I want to break out of hiding, pull back the curtain, and show them what a star I am.
As I consider my life, sixty percent of which has been in Christ, I see that, in my present trajectory, I won't meet the expectations I had when, forty years ago, I was Sandy's knight in a shining B210, a want-to-be preacher, and the winner of my school's most likely to succeed award. Life happened, unresolved pain accumulated, and I projected well enough to make it most of the way. 
Now, closer to the finish line, still with a bit of fuel in the tank, I'm tempted to come out of this ridiculous hiding and make a final run for it. "Now I'm ready to go up; I've sinned, so let me fix it! I'm somebody, dammit (the other ten in Numbers 15)!"
Reality sinks in, albeit slowly. I am, in fact, somebody, but hidden. And God was with me at every step of my sixty-six years, in every failure, sin, and dark moment of fear, shame, and humiliation. He's aware of my medical, financial, and employment records; screentime, wasted time, and prayer time. God knows my every thought, intent, tear, and grimace. He loves it when I keep believing and praying, even when I don't know my motives, and all of it feels like so many rote motions.
One afternoon, he took my place to suffer an incomprehensible death. My curse, punishment, and guilt went away. Because he could, he exchanged my hopeless balance sheet for his endless vault of worth. He became poor so that I could be rich. My sinner-saint self wants to make one more wild dash, one more run for the dead flowers, and one more try to be someone important. But the saint part of it reminds me that what he did made a permanent change for good in my status. I am not what I once regarded myself to be. He is in front, and God moved me behind him. 
But what about the evidence that things might not work out - in all things, He works for good, right!? Yeah, what of that? Not so fast, God, don't trick me.
Eternity is the win, not these prizes. God has been close to me on this roller coaster called life for his eternal purposes, not for likes on Facebook, a better client count, or even sustained peace of mind. I have eternity, so what if my body aches, my legs fail, and I don't get the big assignment?
I can relate with Asaph, who recognized he nearly lost his faith (Psalm 73:2), felt he wasted his life serving God (v.13), and hid behind a mask, lest he hurt others or lose his position (v.15), only to realize he was a bitter, brute beast (vv. 21, 22). In his mercy, God intervened and changed Asaph's mind, but the terror inside him was a fire until he did. In the end, he was satisfied with the only thing that could satisfy his soul, the one thing God promised us, to be near him (v.28).
“Take this mountain weight
Take these ocean tears
Hold me through the trial
Come like hope again
Even when the fight seems lost
I'll praise You
Even when it hurts like hell
I'll praise You
Even when it makes no sense to sing
Louder then I'll sing Your praise, oh-ooh
I will only sing Your praise, oh-ooh.”
  —  Even When It Hurts (Praise Song), written by Joel Houston, Hillsong United

Sandy and I had an opportunity to meet with Pastor Daniel Brown for breakfast. He’s our hero in ministry, and we admire him greatly. In those days, he was pastor of The Coastlands Church in Santa Cruz, CA, and we were about eight years into our church plant in Port Ludlow, WA. As a friend told me, I was spiritually hemorrhaging by then, so I had an idea to quit the church, pack, and move to Santa Cruz. We’d get jobs, attend church, be happy, and enjoy life and Jesus again. I had stopped enjoying church months or years earlier; it had become a trap for me. I despised that fact because the church, salvation, and Jesus were everything to me until I became a pastor. My goal to become one had become a noose around my neck. 
Despairing the church, I called Daniel’s office, and his assistant mentioned that he was coming to the Northwest to lead a conference. We could meet him at the airport, have breakfast with him, and take him to his hotel, she explained, and that’s what we did. We got up early to make the two-hour drive to the airport, but we both woke up with terribly sore throats and headaches. We had no business meeting with anyone except a doctor. But I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to have breakfast with Daniel, so we dressed our only son at the time, took some Tylenol, and started the trek, hoping the meeting would lead to freedom from the trap my church had become.
We met Daniel eight years earlier at a How to Start a Church Conference before we held our first Sunday service. He was brilliant and funny, and his content was inspiring and challenging. He could shift our focus from the strain, stress, and mechanical struggle of starting a church to seeing God’s kingdom and how our church plant fit into it. God’s kingdom is what we wanted and why we took on this project. We did our best to apply the principles Daniel taught, using his materials through the years of planting the church; I received them in the mail like receiving a care package. They always encouraged me. 
This morning, though, besides feeling sick, I was in emotional pain; it had accumulated over the last eight years, and I couldn’t shake it. I explain it and the solution I found in Gallant Fool.
During these painful, what turned out to be final days and weeks at the church, I toured and interviewed for the executive director’s position at the Bread of Life Mission. I knew nothing about being a nonprofit administrator. Still, the job prospect was intriguing because, compared to my church in a golf resort, the Skid Row Mission was reaching folks who were desperate and looking for answers. From all appearances, the swarm of huddled homeless men and women who waited in the cold for the Mission’s doors to open, to grab old pastries and use our bathroom seemed like a great mission field to me. It appeared so anyway; maybe I was the only one desperate. 
With my throat burning, body aching, and sweating with fever, I wondered how sick I was making Daniel during breakfast. Nervously, desperately, after some small talk, I asked about leaving my church behind and joining his church, to which he bluntly responded, “We don’t import people; we only export. Go work at the Mission.”
I can’t remember who paid for breakfast. Within weeks, I was commuting from our home in Port Ludlow to Seattle every morning. I was relieved to be away from the stress of the church but not keen enough to realize the task into which I stepped. God prevailed despite my not yet addressing the source of stress. Over the years, much of what we put into place to help men find hope at the Mission, I learned from Daniel.
How did that breakfast shape my career? I heeded God’s call and purpose for me to direct the Mission to better days. Because Daniel’s church was a process church that focused on moving people to reach clear outcomes, he was more concerned about training and sending people out of his church and engaging in kingdom work than getting more people to attend. His concept and methods were successful; his church planted over two dozen other churches worldwide, and it was strong enough to quickly repel me away from looking to him to solve my problem. 
Pastor, what would it show if you created a pie chart of your team’s collective time and energy? What took more of your time this week, preparing for another quality Sunday morning production, Zig learning to communicate better, Ted and Julia learning to delegate more, Zag not talking about himself so much, or Tristan not being so bossy? Unless we intentionally arrange the parts of our churches to help Zig, Zag, and the others to heal and develop, we will remain trapped in the tyranny of thinking that repeated blockbuster Sundays will grow people. And, unless we inject grace, transparency, and honesty into our community, we’ll neglect the well-being of the people we expect to arrive on Sundays.
Is your church a place to which people come and receive ministry or a place where you are training them to serve others? Do you recruit greeters, nursery workers, and facility cleaners to produce a high-value church service or to love, mend, and train those who respond? Is the reason you have Children’s activities to teach them about Jesus or to graciously develop patience, humility, and godliness in your workers? Most think the former; the latter, though, creates sustained growth.
Indeed, people care less about what you, leader, know than that you care. See if you can shift your paradigm to find a new way to love, mend, and train somebody (or bodies) in your church this month.

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My dog spotted seagulls lazying around the park this morning, and she ran after them but stopped well short of posing any threats to the gulls. Years ago, I’d walk her, and she’d chase birds until she was out of breath and there were no longer any birds in sight. She’d be muddy but happy and proud. Whatever a dog’s smile is, she wore one; she never caught a bird, but I do believe they saw a threat in our Gidget.
That was then, over ten years ago. Now, with cataracts in both eyes, nearly zero hearing, and both legs greatly diminished from dislocations, all my proud dog can do is fake a threat, pretending to give chase. The birds, still far away, flew away, barely fazed by the limping and jogging figure.
But, in this, one must do as a dog does: she still turns to me with that same smile and tail wagging. Do we act the same way when we realize loss or diminishment?
What makes her smile and wag in the face of loss, many years past her glory days? First, she’s with me. She knows I always have my eye on her. Despite her cataracts, she still finds me and feels loved and safe. Next, she’s fulfilling her purpose. It may not seem a lot to us, walking the loop around a park, but she sniffs and marks her favorite spots, greets other dogs with her friendly nose, lets children pet her, growls at the shepherds and terriers, and always keeps her eye on me. 
She also knows that after the walk, I’ll pick her up and put her in the seat next to me (her failed legs no longer allow the jump into the car) and return home, where there will be treats, water, and bowls of food. Then, and only then, she will nap for the rest of the day, one eye on me, hoping for another unexpected treat.
In her weakened and diminished state, she doesn’t seem to allow for loss to get the upper hand. I wonder if I have handled loss that gracefully. Something of a law inside me forms in loss and begins its lectures: “Pull it together,” “Fix this, now!” “This is what you get,” and “This is so you, now deal with it, or something worse will happen,” or my favorite, “Drink beet juice, or you’ll get cancer,” My dog can’t chase down a fat seagull but still smiles; I can’t ride my bike up a mountain any longer, and I am glumly singing “The End,” by the Doors.
This self-critical law shouts at me from a natural, often shameful or regretful, perspective. The “could have, should have, would have” mentality only knows my history and actions; it knows nothing of God’s perspective. I think I’m in charge of the ledger sheet of hurt and healing, pain and progress, happiness and sadness, loss and love, but when I put my trust in Christ, he took that responsibility from me, despite my looking over his shoulder with self-importance.
And the self-critic can even lecture me on my well-being and healing status, “Why aren’t you all the way healed? Get healed now, you sinful, unbelieving man.” Of course, the critic lectures me using talking points from my corrupt and weak mind, not God’s truth. It seems to leverage the pain of earlier loss and stirs up evil hornets that annoyingly buzz near me, wanting to harass me. Still, they’ll never acknowledge that God is sovereign, rules with mercy and grace, and heals and restores on his timeline.
But, what can we do with hornets buzzing, pain reverberating from some unknown and unresolved past loss, and our mind and senses screaming lies at us and wanting to lecture us, so the self-critic part of us can puff itself up at our expense?
“Come to me, you who are weary and burdened, for I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me because I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. (Matthew 11:28, 29)
God isn’t like our mean self-critic, and vice versa. What does a gentle person with a humble heart do? He listens, gets to the real issue, and encourages and promotes us. He doesn’t criticize, judge, or put pressure on us, nor does he prescribe improvement plans, business plans, or anything like that! He doesn’t coach us with book excerpts or demand that we list our top three daily priorities. He acknowledges our burden and commends us for carrying it so well, comes to us when we are hurt, and takes on our load.
I recently saw the movie Father Stu, and I liked it. It’s a true and tragic story; tragic except for the priest’s faith. At one point late in the story, after suffering humiliating loss and suffering, he began to preach, drooling over himself as he spoke from his wheelchair. He said, “This life, no matter how long it lasts, is only a momentary affliction preparing us for eternal glory. We should not pray for an easy life. We should pray for glory.” He pointed to the cross, the crucifix in the church, and said, “That man right there, you just got to let him in. He will do the heavy lifting.”
Remember the Cross. You are with God, and he has his eye on you. Look back at him following you; smile because he’s always with you. You may not be able to enjoy all of what you once had, but you’re fulfilling a task that God always knows more than you. He’s proud of you and will lift you in due time. God might restore everything while you’re still on the proverbial “loop around the park;” regardless, his promised glory is yours, so you have it all.

I’ve often repeated the phrase, “God cares more about our eternal destination than he does our present situation,” and I still believe that.
I wouldn’t necessarily write it in the text of my sermons; it would appear in my mind while making a point, and I’d make the declaration. I don’t have any one verse to back it up; it’s a theme running throughout all of Scripture. 
Two stories come to mind now that help to make my case. The first was from nearly thirty years ago when I was the pastor of the church Sandy and I planted. We were still meeting in a rented bingo hall when a lovely couple joined us; Bob and Voneda from Egg and I Road in Chimacum, WA. They were delightful, but Bob was sick with cancer when they first arrived. I recall one rainy Northwest morning; Bob had a strained look, and the hall’s cold concrete floor seemed to be chilling him terribly as I delivered my sermon. He sat in one of the metal folding chairs, looking like he was barely enduring.
His cancer worsened, and trips to a hospital in Seattle became necessary. These were monumental feats through two counties, across two bodies of water, and ending at a ferry dock to wait for the ride across the Puget Sound. Once they arrived, they’d drive across busy downtown Seattle, park their car, and walk into the hospital. Voneda would do the driving as Bob was quite ill by then; the trip was a marathon that they had to repeat too many times, yet the disease didn’t let go of Bob.
These were hard days for Voneda, caring for Bob, watching him deteriorate, driving back and forth to Seattle, and facing the prospect of losing him. Bob had shared with me that regret often harassed him, mainly that he hadn’t been a better father. I don’t recall any other specifics, but the regrets weighed heavily on him in those final weeks. His son was on his mind as he prepared to leave earth.
I visited them in the hospital, and it was grim, but Bob was still coherent and could converse, so we sang hymns and prayed together. Once, before I arrived at Bob’s bed, I prayed for guidance, and because I knew how hard this was on Voneda, I prayed for God to take Bob to heaven, where there’d be no more hospitals, let alone cancer. 
If God wasn’t planning to heal Bob of cancer, I thought, wouldn’t it be better for him to end Bob’s days now? There didn’t seem to be much point for him to continue living. That prayer remained as I sat with Bob, singing, “Great is Thy Faithfulness.” But, as I sang, another thought passed through my mind; God was maximizing something for Bob in heaven even as we sang and prayed. It seemed to me that God was restoring something lost and addressing Bob’s regrets, even though dear Bob could barely keep awake. 
God has his economy and doesn’t consult with us on eternal matters. If God wanted to expand Bob’s heavenly benefits and repair his son’s life as he lay there listening to me sing, that’s his prerogative, and who am I to interfere? What wisdom do I have in the matter? I was already considering how much time I had left on the parking meter and when the next ferry left the terminal. My thought was to end the present pain; God’s was to prepare more beauty for Bob in heaven.
A second story comes from my Bread of Life Mission days on Skid Row in Seattle. Johnny was in his seventies when he came to the mission, and he was very handsome and very addicted to crack cocaine. When he was with us, he was brilliant, funny, charming, never complained, and always worked hard. We’d see grandchildren visit Johnny; they were beautiful, taking him for Sunday church and dinner occasionally. But, relapse came, and his departure was a hard hit for all of us. I remember asking a fellow employee then, “Why? Why wouldn’t Johnny want to remain clean and sober like we are? Why can’t he manage his life as we do?”
Quickly, a thought passed through my head, and it was a verse of Scripture, “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You travel over land and sea to win a single convert, and when you have succeeded, you make them twice as much a child of hell as you are (Matthew 25:13, NIV).” I had imposed my earthly perspective on Johnny – don’t be an addict living in a homeless shelter, be like me with a home, job, and two cars in the garage – but, thankfully, only God’s perspective matters. 
Johnny started drinking hard liquor with his uncles when he was twelve living in the South. His uncles were his family and drinking their business. He told me about them drinking on the porch of their home, working in the fields, and not attending school. Johnny's building blocks to achieve the American dream were little or no education, poverty, a broken family, another broken family of his own, and life on the wrong side of a national racial gulf. 
His addiction to crack robbed Johnny of whatever he had to his name. People walked to football, soccer, and baseball games; artists visited galleries, couples drank coffee in the shop across the street (we saw President Clinton visit there once), and workers walked with lunches in their hands, returning to their offices. I’d see him staring out onto Skid Row from the mission’s front window. What were Johnny’s thoughts, and how could he handle his regret, shame, and resentfulness? What difference did his raised hand make to God that night in the chapel?
My hope for Johnny’s sobriety is one man’s judgment on another, but only God’s judgment counts. My judgments are binary, clean or dirty, winner or loser, success or failure; God considers the heart and its depths. I judged from my “manage life” perspective, but I was meager in spirit, only hoping for God to approve of me; God judges from the Cross, accepting broken and beaten lives. I wanted Johnny to be like me; God didn’t want him to be a child of hell like me. God’s thoughts are not mine. He is God; I’m not.
What is your present situation? What is your eternal destination? About which of those two do you spend more of your thoughts? I’m grateful God thinks more about the latter than I do. 

I’ve sent several project proposals to pastors whose churches realize good attendance, a decent number of small groups, functioning elders, and consistent youth and children’s ministry. Still, something is off, they’ll tell me. Often, the pastor has asked me how to get visitors to stay, more volunteers to serve, leaders to lead, and not spend so much time putting out fires that start cranky members.
Three interactions shaped my career and contributed to my consulting churches and non-profits. My love for them compels me to try and help them achieve their visions by assisting them to identify barriers that hinder growth and cause pain, then giving them the tools to overcome them.
The first interaction was with Angry Al. That’s not his real name, but the description is. I’ll call him AA; he looked stiff and tense, with little or no genuine laughter or easy smile. He and his wife joined our church plant when we were preparing to build after nearly eight years in a rented bingo hall. 
He was one of several challenging personalities with whom I was contending during these years, and undoubtedly, a lot of that contention was due to my stress, weariness, and insecurities. His demeanor was off-putting to me; I felt like he was often, if not always, ready to instruct me on something or another. 
His wife volunteered in the office, and she seemed emotionally beat down. In hindsight, it was almost as if she was afraid I’d bring up her husband’s lousy attitude to her. I suspected, and she hinted as much, that something was wrong in that home. I felt a need to address it, despite my council members telling me to overlook it, but ignoring that kind of issue is not in my wiring. “They’re in my ranch now; I’ll either raise them or move them on,” was my thought then.
In those days, I lacked tact, grace, and confrontation skill, so when I confronted AA about his demeanor, gruffness, and his wife’s sadness, he blasted me. It was a blast concealed behind Christian niceness because, in his world view, I’m sure Christians never lost their temper. With ice-chilling words, he shredded my soul and left me wondering why I had decided to become a pastor. That conversation wasn’t the first like it; each was like another brick on a cheap measuring scale in my heart, horribly weighing down the emotional negativity within me.
AA and his wife left. Months later, I received a note from her saying in an ambiguous way that I had done the right thing by confronting her husband. Even the unsettled language she used indicated stress. I’ll never know under how much stress she lived, but I was glad he and his anger had moved on, though he left a trail of insults and half-truths behind him, and several of my members didn’t overlook them. It was a painful experience.
I told myself, “Never again!” I would do whatever it took to change the way we were doing church so I’d minimize, at least, the number of people coming and hurting me. When I began my ministry journey at least ten years prior, I couldn’t have imagined that I’d experience the hurt and trauma I did. I was new to the church scene, so I didn’t have the perspective my peers who grew up in a pastor’s home, for example, would have had. 
Daniel Brown’s The Other Side of Pastoral Ministry was a tremendous help to me; its tagline is “Using Process Leadership to Transform Your Church.” In it, Brown uses an analogy of a river for the church. If we lead so there is movement forward, from one growth to the next, from one insight to the next, from one healing to the next, someone like AA could jump in and move with the rest of us.
He was probably used to a church being more like a lake – lovely, but not moving forward – and in that stasis, adopted his snarly, critical attitude. There was no river flowing that he could move out of emotional distress to grace and peace. He often reminded me that I, as his pastor, needed to “just teach the Word.” He wanted his church to be a place to come like livestock and graze on good feed. All that feeding, I guess, caused some spiritual indigestion in him, and I got his vomit. 
I regret that I couldn’t help AA; he went on to the next church with his wife, holding onto secrets, and I promised myself to put some movement in my church. I’d have a river moving so the next person who came along with the fouled-up lake mentality could choose to either jump in and move ahead or jump in a lake somewhere. 
Next: A Friendly Rejection
Look for one of Leading in Joy’s free online Effective Process courses, or call to set a time to visit you and your staff.

This post is a continuation of You Can Grow or You Can Control, but You Can’t Do Both. In that post we discussed that excellent decisions are one of the chief characteristics of an empowering culture. Making excellent decisions is the first of three skills, the practice of which at every level of church management will greatly enhance a culture of empowerment and confidence. The other two are delegating authority well, and engaging in healthy dialogue.
Delegation determines the church’s throttle, speed, and power to reach the destination. The word ‘delegation’ – from to delegate – is defined first as, ‘to entrust to another.’ What are the threats to effective delegation? The leader may think he has not enough time to spell out all the details necessary to delegate a task – writing a task-description, clarifying expectations and reporting instructions, and taking the time for all of the necessary dialogue that goes with delegation. Or the leader fears losing control over what may be a special idea or project of his. There may be an ‘I can do it better,’ mindset on the part of the leader. Or there could be fear that he won’t get credit for what, after all, was his idea. Also, there may be a fear of losing tasks that he likes. The leader may lack confidence in his team members that they can execute the task well. Finally, the leader may fear push-back from the person on the receiving end of delegation.
That’s truly a long list of threats to effective delegation. Making excellent decisions consistently requires skill; I believe effectively delegating work requires more skill because at the core of most of these threats is the issue of trust. I hear far more complaints about leaders failing to delegate well that I do about leaders making bad decisions. Part of that is because decisions are more point in time and delegation requires longer term relationship, trust, and dialogue.
So, by examining the threats to effective delegation, we can identify some strong delegation-skill characteristics that would counter the threats and allow for delegation to flow well in the organization.
Four of the threats - not having enough time, losing control, “I can do it better,’ and lack of confidence all have one thing in common, that is, the leader wants it done right. That’s fair. Everyone wants it done right, but that’s no reason for the leader to keep the task himself. 
There’s no way to avoid the upfront time involved of clearly writing a task or assignment description. Thinking through the details, then writing them down, perhaps getting some up front approval, or having some dialogue around the task, and then, finally, explaining the task description all takes time. All told these steps could take 10-20 hours, and that may be over a period of weeks once the idea has been conceived. That’s a group of hours; it will take time, but this is a finite number of hours. Holding onto the task for not wanting to take the upfront describing work, will in fact cost you time and that number of hours won’t be finite. So many things can come along and soak up time along the way. The leader can’t afford to sacrifice leadership time for project management time. Take the time up front!
The other three “I want it done right” threats are remedied by addressing trust issues between the leader and his team, or amongst the team members. If trust won’t show up, delegation is going to be a problem one way or another. If some trust is there, then build it up. If trust is strong, then the leader just needs to check his ego at the door and get on with delegating the task.
Here’s an amazing quote from Reggie McNeal (www.reggiemcneal.org/):
Teams use trust as currency. If it is in short supply, then the team is poor. If trust abounds, the members of the team have purchase power with each other to access each other’s’ gifts, talents, energy, creativity, and love. The development of trust then becomes a significant leadership strategy. Trust creates the load limits on the relationship bridges among team members – Reggie McNeal

If trust is too low at the time of considering delegating a significant task, then the leader has to step back and spend some time building trust in the team. That takes time, and it requires urgency. It is now the most important priority for the organization. The time it takes to build trust should be projected out with clear and measurable objectives spelled out along the way. The leader will have to evaluate what part of the mistrust and suspicion he is responsible for and fix it. He should be candid with and involve his board by identifying to them the underlying reasons for the mistrust. That may be exhaustion, having been disappointed by other failed delegated tasks, not feeling supported in his role, or other reasons. This is not the time to be the Lone Ranger. Leaders are human and deserve to receive help so they can complete the mission.

Next Post – The Throttle – Delegation Part 2 – further defining effective delegation and identifying the often missed ingredient to a superior job description or assignment description.
 – won’t be worth it versus me just doing it myself
losing control – I want it done right
‘I can do it better’ – I want it done right
won’t get credit – threatened by others success
losing tasks that he likes – can he continue to be part of it even if feeking good to see others grow
lack confidence – I want it done right
push-back – I don’t want to deal with the complaints, passive aggressiveness, etc….


Dialogue determines the church’s alignment, keeping the church on task and using resources efficiently. Dialogue includes reports, meetings, one on one interactions, evaluations, corrections, support, training, and more
Dialogue – through + words – exchange of ideas or opinions, with resolution in mind
Mistrust, Adversarial Relationships (under the surface), Tension, Invulnerable

Leadership today is all about two words: It's all about truth and trust. You've got to have their back when they didn't hit it out of the park, you've got have their back when they hit it out of the park.
When they trust you, you'll get truth. And if you get truth, you get speed. If you get speed, you're going to act. That's how it works.
https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/truth-trust-crap-how-jack-welch-looks-leadership-today-daniel-roth

“Low trust causes friction, whether it is caused by unethical behavior or by ethical but incompetent behavior (because even good intentions can never take the place of bad judgment). Low trust is the greatest cost in life and in organizations, including families. Low trust creates hidden agendas, politics, interpersonal conflict, interdepartmental rivalries, win-lose thinking, defensive and protective communication—all of which reduce the speed of trust. Low trust slows everything—every decision, every communication, and every relationship.” ― Stephen M.R. Covey, The SPEED of Trust: The One Thing that Changes Everything

A pastor friend of mine once taught this truth, that you can either grow, or you can control, but you can’t do both. A growing church or non-profit has a different set of characteristics at work than a controlling one. One of the big differences is found in the culture of the organization.
Getting away from the notion that a church grows because of the quality of its services, its a great facility, or its charismatic leader, and that a growing church is growing because its leaders are busy loving, caring for, investing in, equipping, and sending its people out into the mission field as a force to be reckoned with, now the church has to reckon with its culture. Will the church’s culture allow for or will it hinder growth?
In our Skiltegrity Essentials workshop, we breakdown the nuts and bolts of an empowering culture. An empowering culture is the necessary ether for a growing church.
Interestingly, an empowering culture is more than mere hospitality, friendliness, or even genuine care, though these critical features will be found in a church with an empowering culture. The opposite features obviously would be symptoms of a diminishing culture, but they also may be symptoms of unresolved conflict, deep divides, avoidance on the part of leadership to confront problems and problem people, or more. And an empowering culture is the most effective remedy to solve those negative features and the best defense to prevent any negative features from gaining any traction in the church.
Before working on building a truly empowering culture, if those negative features exist, leadership will have to address and work to remedy those problems with intentional conflict resolution skills.
Then you can begin building a culture of empowerment. There are three skills, the practice of which at every level of church management, will greatly enhance a culture of empowerment and confidence. Those are 1) making excellent decisions, 2) delegating authority well, and 3) engaging in healthy dialogue.
The decisions that leadership makes determine the direction for your church, especially decisions about people and strategy. The word ‘decisions’ – from to decide –is defined as, ‘to make a final choice or judgment, to determine a course of action.’ Understanding the threats there are to making good decisions help us to understand also what it takes to make excellent decisions. Some common threats are: impulsivity, risk avoidance, lack of data, made in isolation, no follow up, and no delegation. 
So, from looking at the list of threats, a great decision is: 

• One that is well informed by the available data. Nonprofits rely heavily on good data for strategy and especially for its funding. Surprisingly, except for simple communications purposes and financial records, churches gather and examine very little data. Some simple demographic data like from where, what ages, what careers, what schools, first time visit, some dates, and a few more items woven together into a simple report would give leaders incredible understanding for making better decisions.
• Well paced, that is, not suffering from either risk aversion or impulsivity. Leaders can get in to paralysis by analysis easily enough, but perhaps more often the bigger threat is when a visionary leader seizes onto an idea and feels fantastic, even blessed of God, about the idea, and wants to move immediately. All too often, though, that visionary leadership has blind spots in which lurk hazards, and if he had others who could see into and offer input about what hazards are in the blind spots, he or she could avoid easily avoid making a bad mistake
• Made in the context of healthy discussion and dialogue. Often visionary leaders don’t have the patience to bring the idea to others for dialogue, or he may feel that he’s losing control over his decision making power. To solve for that, the leader will want to learn when to and when not to discuss the topic, or, better, simply ask some, “what do you think about…” questions; listen, express gratitude, ask more questions, accumulate input, process and pray about the input. Give it some time, and the likelihood of a better decision increases dramatically.
• Can be measured in results. As stated earlier, decisions affect direction, especially people decisions and strategy decisions. People are to help, and strategy determines direction and the how – how to invest people and resources toward accomplishing some preferred end. Since that’s the case, it’s easy to establish some clear and measurable goals and objectives for the people that leadership hires. Example: our new children’s leader will develop a team of six or more team members who have a heart to help grow children’s ministry and who will help her grow the children’s ministry by 15 new families over the next year. It’s also easy to set some measurable goals and objectives for the strategic decisions that leadership makes. Example: our goal is to include 15 families with K-12 children over the next year, and we’ll do it by presenting three neighborhood events in the same time period, and each event will attract 5 or more new families. These examples set some measurable expectations. It’s a great discipline for every leader who wants to move quickly with an idea, to pause and ask himself, “How will I measure the results of my decision?” That simple half-hour exercise over coffee can save a lot of anguish down the line.  
• Not bottled up for fear of delegating the responsibilities of executing the decision to others. Most leaders come to recognize that they can’t do everything themselves, and that s/he needs to delegate some authority to others so they can execute the first decision. In the examples above, the leader will need to write job descriptions, set expectations, and hopefully identify with what authority the person receiving the delegated assignment has to make decisions on things like art, money, volunteers, communications, and more. So having made his people and strategy decisions, he needs to release the person to whom he has delegated the assignment with trust and confidence that he has been clear, and the others have understood and have expressed agreement, willingness and ability to perform the duties.

I’m grateful for the boards and supervisors who allowed me to make decisions for the organizations I led. And I’m especially grateful for those who took the extra time and thought to be clear with expectations, goals, and clear lines of authority for me to make those decisions. 
So, being mindful of the data being used to make the decision, the pace of the decision, the discussion around the decision, the expected results of the decision, and the level of trust one is using to delegate the execution of the decision. Follow these and the leader improves the likelihood of making better decisions.
In the final analysis making excellent decisions requires having opportunity to make them, some courage, and practice. In bicycling there is saddle time. The more time in the saddle, the better a bicyclist one becomes. So, the more decisions one makes – and learns from – the better decisions he’ll make, and the organization realizes the peace that comes from consistently excellent decisions
Next, we will examine the second skill required to build an empowering culture, and that second skill is delegation.