When I first came to
Mosaic, we were only attenders. I had no intention of ever becoming the pastor of this community of faith. We had been there about a year when we accepted the church’s invitation to replace the former pastor of twenty-four years.
The church had an annual leadership retreat where those who had accepted a certain level of responsibility would meet and plan for the future. Attendance was mandatory, and from all that I heard and read was not negotiable. The leadership guidelines clearly stated that any leader who did not attend would be released from his position. I have never been a big fan of policies and rules and always try to keep them to a minimum, but if they exist, I am pretty committed to fleshing them out. My view is that you shouldn’t have any policies that you are not willing to implement or back up. That’s why the fewer the better. But since I was entirely new to the process, I was trying to be careful to respect all the procedures that were in place.
As the meeting began and I stepped into my new role, I casually announced that it was good to see all of our leaders present and reminded them that any leaders who were not there would, of course, be removed and could pick up again the next year. It wasn’t really that big of a deal. I just assumed everyone was there. I didn’t know the history, so I was certain this was an annual leadership realignment.
Almost immediately after I stepped down, one of our staff members ran to me in a state of panic and asked me what in the world did I think I was doing. Confused, I asked him what he meant. He explained that they never removed leaders who do not attend. I reminded him that it was a written policy. He quickly corrected me with the unnerving clarification that it’s only said, never upheld.
Fortunately, it seemed I had caused no major damage until early Sunday morning when I received an unexpected phone call. It was one of the elders of the church. He had been newly elected and had been serving only as long as I had been lead pastor, but he was a long-standing member of the church. He had come in the ‘70s, and for nearly a decade had been personally mentored by the former pastor, who was still on the board of elders.
The phone call began with, “Pastor, we have a problem.” He quickly began to explain that he was not at the leadership retreat. His wife had been at the meeting and had called him to inform him he was no longer an elder.
My heart was in my throat, and my stomach was in knots. I couldn’t believe what I had done. I would have never knowingly dismissed an elder in such a public and trivial manner. Not only is it insensitive to the individual, but it’s really bad leadership.
I quickly moved toward damage control. I said, “Rick, I’m sure you had a good reason for not being there.”
He responded, “No, I just chose not to come.”
I countered, “No, Rick, I’m certain there was a good reason. Was there a family issue? A work-related issue?”
He said, “No, I went to a ball game instead.”
I wanted to scream at him and tell him, “Work with me, man!” but it was no use. I accepted his resignation over the phone.
Rick Yamamoto is genuinely one of the most humble men I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. I didn’t know him well, but this experience fast-forwarded our relationship by years. After he resigned he asked what he could do to make amends for his error in judgment. He would be willing to watch all the tapes and insisted on going before the congregation and asking for forgiveness. From his perspective, he had dishonored my leadership as the new pastor and had not lived up to his commitments.
It was the next Wednesday night service when I invited Rick to step up to the podium and share with the congregation. He began with such contrition that it brought a deafening silence throughout the whole building. He spoke in terms of failure, sin, and repentance. His language carried the heaviness of a tragic, moral failure. As he began to speak, I realize what was happening. Everyone was rushing to judgment. The natural conclusion was that Rick had resigned his eldership as a result of a significant violation. I imagine either adultery or embezzlement came to mind.
After expressing the depth of his sorrow, he went on t explain that he had carelessly neglected his responsibility to be at the leadership retreat. You could almost feel the shock and relief in the air. At the same time, the genuineness of Rick’s humility and the determination of this man to live under authority established a level of respect for spiritual leadership like we had never known. Rick was not only one of our elders, but also a successful businessman who managed a two-billion-dollar investment firm. In his lack of pridefulness, the texture of his humility made him not only value but comfortable with spiritual submission. He became living proof that individuals of great power can live under submission.
Immediately after offering his resignation, Rick stepped down as the congregation watched in silence. I stepped to the podium and thanked Rick for his humility and his willingness to be a person under authority. I then asked the congregation if this wasn’t exactly the kind of person we wanted as an elder. I moved to immediately reinstate Rick as an elder. Through acclamation, we instantly recalled Rick to his position of spiritual leadership. Rick serves as an elder at Mosaic to this day and is one of my closest friends and partners in ministry. (p. 58 -60)
--From
Uprising: A Revolution of the Soul by
Erwin Raphael McManus
