I've spent more than three decades serving in leadership, much of that time in the local church. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that building a healthy organization is considerably more complicated than simply attracting good people and keeping them around.
Sometimes the very people you're afraid to lose are the people you most need to have an honest conversation with.
I wish I had understood that better earlier in my ministry.
During my years leading Mosaic Church, I had the privilege of serving alongside some remarkable people. They gave generously of their time, talents, and treasure. They led ministries, built relationships, encouraged others, and helped us accomplish things we could never have accomplished alone.
I loved those people. I still appreciate the sacrifices so many of them made.
But looking back, I also recognize that there were times when I allowed someone's importance to the church to influence how willing I was to address concerns about their leadership.
And that wasn't healthy.
The Fear of Losing What You've Built
When you're leading a growing church or nonprofit organization, you learn pretty quickly that some people carry an enormous amount of responsibility and influence.
They lead important ministries. They give generously. They recruit others. They build relationships and help establish the culture of the organization.
In many ways, they're helping hold the whole thing together.
And when you've worked hard to build something, the thought of losing those people can be frightening.
What happens to the ministry they lead? What happens to the people connected to them? Will others leave? Will financial support decline? Will we lose momentum?
Those aren't imaginary concerns. They're real questions leaders have to consider.
But I've learned that there's a difference between considering the consequences of a difficult decision and allowing those consequences to determine whether you're willing to make it.
I didn't always understand that distinction.
There were people in significant positions of influence whose lives or leadership patterns raised legitimate concerns for me. I saw things I believed needed attention, but I wasn't always as forthcoming as I should have been.
I hesitated.
Not necessarily because I was afraid of losing a friendship. I've been blessed with friendships where we can speak honestly, disagree, challenge one another, and still love one another deeply.
My greater concern was what losing those individuals might cost the church.
I was trying to protect what we were building.
And that's where the irony begins.
I Was Protecting the Wrong Thing
The longer I've reflected on those years, the more I've realized something uncomfortable.
In trying to protect the church from the consequences of losing influential people, I sometimes allowed circumstances to continue that were making the church less healthy.
I was worried about what might happen if certain people left.
But I wasn't paying enough attention to what was already happening because they stayed.
Other people were being affected. Concerns that should have been addressed continued. And leadership responsibilities remained in place that probably deserved a more honest evaluation.
I can't say with certainty how every situation would have unfolded had I handled it differently.
Some people might have responded well to an honest conversation. Others might have chosen to step away. Perhaps we could have found healthier ways for them to continue serving.
But I do know this: avoiding those conversations didn't make the problems disappear.
And in some cases, I believe my hesitation allowed other people to experience unnecessary hurt.
That's difficult for me to acknowledge.
As a pastor, I was entrusted with caring for people, not simply keeping ministries staffed or maintaining financial stability.
Yet at times, I allowed the fear of losing valuable contributors to outweigh my responsibility to address legitimate concerns.
I was trying to preserve the organization, but some of my decisions were actually compromising its health.
That's a lesson I haven't forgotten.
Influence Cannot Purchase Immunity
One of the realities of organizational leadership is that people contribute in different ways.
Some give extraordinary amounts of time. Others bring valuable skills and leadership abilities. Some provide significant financial resources. And there are those wonderful individuals who contribute all three.
Every organization needs people like that.
But there's a subtle danger when we begin treating influential contributors differently because of what they bring to the table.
We may not consciously decide to establish a different standard for them. I certainly don't remember ever sitting down and making that decision.
It happens more gradually.
We overlook something here. We postpone a conversation there. We convince ourselves that the good someone is accomplishing outweighs the concerns we're seeing.
Before long, the amount someone contributes can begin influencing the amount of accountability we're willing to exercise.
That is dangerous territory.
James 2 warns believers against favoritism, particularly when wealth or social standing influences how we treat people.
While James is addressing a broader issue, I think the principle speaks directly to organizational leadership.
Our standards cannot change based on someone's generosity, influence, or importance to the organization.
And perhaps those of us who lead churches need to be particularly careful here.
Because the church isn't ours to protect at any cost.
It belongs to Christ.
Our responsibility is to steward it faithfully, even when faithfulness requires decisions that may be costly.
Stability Isn't the Same as Health
This may be the most significant lesson I've taken from those experiences.
An organization can appear stable while becoming increasingly unhealthy.
The programs continue. The budgets get funded. People show up. The calendar stays full. From the outside, everything may look relatively normal.
But underneath the surface, unresolved concerns can begin eroding trust, damaging relationships, and weakening the very culture we're trying to build.
And sometimes the people most responsible for addressing those concerns are the same leaders who are afraid of what might happen if they do.
I've been that leader.
I can look back now and recognize situations where I was more concerned about preserving organizational momentum than addressing what needed attention.
The problem is that momentum and health aren't interchangeable.
An unhealthy organization can have plenty of momentum.
And a healthy organization may occasionally experience seasons of loss, transition, or even decline as it makes necessary changes.
We have to be careful about how we measure success.
Jesus never promised that faithful leadership would preserve every relationship, maintain every ministry, or guarantee continued numerical growth.
But Scripture does call leaders to shepherd people faithfully.
Paul's instruction to the Ephesian elders in Acts 20:28 is especially meaningful to me. He reminds them to pay careful attention to themselves and to the entire flock entrusted to their care.
Not simply the influential members.
Not merely the generous ones.
The entire flock.
I've come to appreciate that responsibility more deeply over the years.
What I Would Do Differently Today
I still believe in extending grace. I still believe people deserve patience, encouragement, and opportunities to grow.
And I certainly don't believe every leadership concern warrants removing someone from a position of responsibility.
But I would approach several things differently today.
First, I would address concerns earlier.
Not every conversation needs to be confrontational. Sometimes an honest question, asked with genuine concern, can open the door to understanding and growth.
Waiting until something becomes a crisis rarely serves anyone well.
Second, I would separate someone's contribution from their accountability.
Their generosity matters. Their sacrifice matters. Their influence matters.
But none of those things should determine whether legitimate concerns deserve attention.
Third, I would consider the people affected by my silence.
This is probably the lesson that stays with me most.
When we're deciding whether to address a difficult issue, we naturally consider how the person involved might respond.
Will they be hurt? Will they become defensive? Will they leave?
But we also need to ask a different question:
Who might be hurt if I don't address this?
That question can change everything.
Finally, I would trust God more with the consequences.
I realize that may sound like the Sunday school answer, but I mean it.
If I genuinely believe Christ is building His Church, then I cannot allow my fear of losing influential people to become greater than my commitment to shepherding His people faithfully.
That doesn't remove the need for wisdom, patience, fairness, or careful discernment.
It simply means that fear cannot be the deciding factor.
Still Learning
One of the interesting things about getting older is realizing how much you didn't know when you thought you knew quite a bit.
I've made leadership decisions I'm grateful for.
I've also made decisions I wish I could revisit.
Some of those decisions involved things I did.
Others involved things I failed to do.
And if I'm being fair with myself, the second category may contain some of the more painful lessons.
I cannot go back and redo those years. I can't have every conversation I should have had or change every outcome I wish had been different.
But I can allow those experiences to shape how I lead today.
I can be more courageous.
I can ask better questions.
I can listen more carefully.
And I can remember that the health of an organization is never measured simply by how many people we manage to keep.
Sometimes loving people well means having conversations they may not appreciate.
Sometimes protecting an organization means being willing to experience loss.
And sometimes the greatest threat to what we're building isn't the possibility that someone might leave.
It's our unwillingness to address what's happening while they're still there.
A healthy organization cannot be built by continually sacrificing its health to preserve its most influential people.
I wish I'd learned that lesson earlier.
But I'm grateful the Lord continues to teach me.
— Stephen Hammond
