Why Trust Is the Currency of Change (Part 1)

I was 24 years old when I became the pastor of a small church in a growing northern suburb of Cincinnati.  For the first few months we averaged between 20–25 people in worship on an average Sunday, and honestly, the church didn’t look much like the community around us.  New neighborhoods were going up. Young professionals and families were moving in.  The community was changing and growing fast.

Our church was growing too.  Just not fast.

New people were coming, and many encouraging things were happening.  I started dreaming about what could be.  After a year or two, I went to Kenny Moore, one of the most influential voices in the church, with an idea.  I thought we needed a new building.  And I was ready.

I had thought about where we could put it, what it might look like, how we could use the space, and what I thought it would cost per square foot.  I laid the whole thing out for Kenny.  In my mind, it made perfect sense.

Kenny listened.  He was gracious about it, but I could tell he wasn't nearly as excited as me.  Finally, he said, “Let’s slow down a second. You’ve only been here a couple of years.”

I have to admit, that caught me a little off guard.  We were growing!  The community around us was exploding.  Couldn't he see what I was seeing?

Well, yes.  I think he probably could.

Kenny understood something I had not yet considered.  I was asking people to trust my vision before they were fully trusting me.

I knew Kenny loved me and supported me.  I believe he believed in me.  But I was still a 20-something pastor who had only been there a couple of years.  He had been around long enough to know pastors sometimes come and go.  Good seasons don't always last.  He wasn't necessarily saying no to the building.  He was saying, in his own way, give us a little more time to know that we can follow you.

A few years later, we built the building.  Kenny and the other leaders enthusiastically supported it. The vision really hadn't changed that much.  But something else had.

Trust had grown.

Change Requires More Than a Good Idea

I wish I could say I learned that lesson once and never had to learn it again.  Leadership usually doesn't work that way.

Especially when we are younger, we can believe that if an idea is good enough, biblical enough, or necessary enough, people will naturally get behind it.  We see the need.  We see the opportunity.  We have prayed about it, thought about it, talked about it, and sometimes we cannot understand why everyone else isn't nearly as excited as we are.

But there is a difference between having a good idea and having the trust necessary to lead people toward it.

People aren't just evaluating the idea.  They are evaluating us.  Does he really understand this church?  Does he love us?  Will he listen to us?  Is he going to stay?  Can I trust him with something that means a great deal to me?

That doesn't mean a pastor has to wait until everyone agrees before he leads.  If we wait for unanimous enthusiasm, we may never change anything.  Leadership requires courage. But biblical shepherding also requires relationship.

Jesus said of the shepherd, “And when he brings out his own sheep, he goes before them; and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice” (John 10:4, NKJV).  There is something there that pastors should probably sit with for a while.  The shepherd leads, but the sheep also know his voice.

A pastor may receive a title when the church votes to call him.  Trust usually takes longer.

Trust Is Built Before Change Is Needed

Here is something else I have learned over the years: you can't wait until you need trust to start building it.

Trust is usually built in very ordinary places.

A hospital room.  A funeral home.  A conversation after church that lasts longer than you planned.  Sitting across the table from someone and actually listening.  Returning the phone call.  Keeping your word.  Admitting when you got something wrong.  Being there when someone's world has fallen apart.

None of that sounds very strategic.  But it may be some of the most important leadership work we ever do.

Paul described his ministry among the Thessalonians this way: “So, affectionately longing for you, we were well pleased to impart to you not only the gospel of God, but also our own lives, because you had become dear to us” (1 Thessalonians 2:8, NKJV).

I love that phrase: our own lives.

Paul didn't simply give people sermons.  He gave them himself.

Pastoral ministry is like that.  Over time, all those ordinary moments begin making deposits into a relational account.  Then one day you need to make a withdrawal.  You ask the church to change something they have done for years.  You ask them to try something they have never tried.  Perhaps you ask them to let go of something they love because you believe there is something else that will help the church to better fulfill its mission.

When that day comes, the trust you need will not be constructed in the meeting where you present the change that is coming.  It will have been built months, or maybe years, before that day comes.

I thought I needed Kenny to understand my building plan better, but what I needed was trust, and that was going to take time.

Time to love the people.  Time to walk with them in both good and difficult times.  Time for them to watch me lead.  And, frankly, time for me to grow into the pastor they needed me to be.

We build the trust we will need tomorrow by the way we shepherd people today.

Blessings,

Will