Lead Pastor or Lead Outsourcer?

On the fragmenting of a vocation.

“He’s weak in relationships but he’s strong in leadership!”

“He’s not gifted in shepherding but he’s a brilliant teacher.”

“He rarely offers visitation because his time is best served directing the organization.”

“In order to protect his dedication to studies, he won’t be available to serve in other areas.”

Abstract Sculptures by Barbara Leoniak

I’m sure you’ve encountered this model of church leadership up close or observed it from a distance. Perhaps on the surface you don’t automatically see red flags. Most of us understand we all have different gifts to be stewarded in the body of Christ, so what’s the problem with a pastor operating from the center of his/hers if those gifts are teaching and leadership? Well, nothing per se, except when someone is ordained and empowered to operate from the center of their gifts rather than the center of their character, where vocation is confirmed.

Many of us have or still do buy into a ministry philosophy that says we should maximize our strengths and surround ourselves with other “specialists” who thrive in the areas we’re weaker. When it comes to teams co-laboring for the kingdom, work smarter not harder, right? This is the basic principle by which many church staffs—especially larger ones—operate.

The problem with this approach to ministry is not in what it claims to promote (different people with different gifts serving a common purpose), but what it proves to *enable* far too often—causing untold damage and destruction. Here’s the crux of it:

There are many “pastors” who outsource the central tasks of care, presence, and simple acts of service—perhaps in the name of strategic leadership—because they personally lack the ‘insources’ of a shepherd to attend to those tender places where relational maturity is paramount.

As it turns out, there are many who lead with their charisma and lag with their ability to nurture those under their care. When a Lead Outsourcer who lacks relational sensitivity is afforded most of the power in a system, efficiency and output become cardinal virtues at the expense of self-giving love or shared vulnerability. Well-oiled machines that grind people up.

Somehow we’ve managed to put the achievements cart before the integrity horse.

One Whole Vocation

What happens when the singular vocation of pastor is fragmented into a menu of specializations to accommodate our ‘primary areas of gifting’?

We get skilled communicators behind pulpits who are overbearing (Ti. 1:7) behind closed doors.

We get compelling visions on stage and short tempers (Ti. 1:7) on the regular to keep people in line.

An ambitious spokesman who is driven to establish an institution but does not embody gentleness (1 Tim. 3:3) is not qualified to pastor. An intelligent scholar and cultural analyst who lords over others with his presence and effectively avoids washing feet (1 Pet. 5:3) may have proven his knowledge, but he also proved he isn’t suited to pastor.

There is a strong correlation between the character of a pastor and his or her acquaintance with suffering and grief. Every faithful and kind man or woman I know who lives the vocation of pastor-shepherd has learned to attend deeply to pain—their own and others’. Suffering has made them softer with every encounter. Proximity to weakness has deepened their integrity. On the contrary, consolidated power and privileged exemption tends to harden so-called faith leaders. Not only do they feel entitled to lead, but they also feel entitled not to suffer (or abide with those who do). The net result of this entitlement is often impunity for the leader and severe pastoral neglect in the community.

The vocation of pastor cannot be separated from the slow and obscure development of inward substance, out of which a calling to pastor is born. Character is tried, tested, and confirmed in the meticulous world of relationships. Simply stated, a pastor ought to embody both the fruits of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22-23) and the character qualifications listed in aforementioned texts of Scripture. If a faith leader ‘has a tendency’ to bulldoze and bully, those fruits have yet to be yielded in ways that confirm the vocation.

We have to be willing to scrutinize the fallacy of specialization in order to recover the singular vocation of pastor—one whole vocation emerging from character and suffering, embodied by one whole person, committed to his/her own wholeness in union with Christ.

This is not to say pastors cannot operate within their primary gifts, serve alongside other clergy, or that all pastors must be superb counselors. It is to say that regardless of gifting, pastors must possess a reliable baseline of emotional maturity that allows people to experience their presence as safe, kind, and disarming rather than harsh, anxious, and controlling.

There’s a sentiment among Lead Outsourcers that says, “as long as it’s getting done I don’t have to be the one doing it.” That’s some impressive pragmatism! Unfortunately, it’s ruinous for faith communities. It translates to, “as long as someone is shepherding these people during the week, I don’t have to be one.”

Except, you do.

At the end of the day, it’s our presence with others as pastors that makes the greatest impact. It’s our ability to navigate hard conversations with attunement and tenderness. It’s our eagerness to hold others’ stories in kitchens, hospital rooms, or coffee shops. It’s our impetus to confess and model repentance. It’s our ability to name power differentials when we hold most of it in the relationship. It’s our refusal to play dumb or play the victim when someone has the courage to rebuke us or voice the pain we’ve caused them.

It’s our commitment to a vocation rather than a position in leadership.