We piled into the minivan. With the church logo plastered on the side of our silver Toyota, we rode in style toward Hot Springs, Ark., to bond as a staff. This was the first staff retreat I had been on, and it was the first this church staff had taken in quite some time. I was eager to skip town and excited to get to know my coworkers. While I loved the idea of a staff retreat—and hoped it would become a yearly tradition for us—I also did not know how it would go. Would we come back ready to plan another trip, or would we wonder whether we should be looking for new places to serve?
None of us had been working together very long. All but one worked at this particular church for less than three years. We may have thought we knew a lot about ministry, but we had a lot to learn about one another. We already knew we possessed the capability of getting on one another’s nerves. You find that out quickly working with a staff; your differences glare like a flashing neon signs in the middle of the night.
The Brutal Reality
Working with people anywhere in any type of job situation is complicated because all of us are broken. We come into ministry positions with baggage, some quirks from our Creator, and others we’ve created within ourselves along the way. At the same time, most staff situations function in close quarters. If you don’t like each other, you’re kind of stuck. The office quickly can become a complicated and claustrophobic climate.
As often as our personalities clash and as uncomfortable as we may become in close quarters, relationships are never stuck. There is always room for relationships to move and grow. There is always room for our souls to stretch big and wide toward those we struggle to love.
The drive wasn’t too long, three and a half hours at the most. We laughed and joked, made small talk and listened to the radio. When we pulled up to the lake house that would be our home for the next three days and chuckled as we noticed the outside looked like a small white church with a stained glass window and steeple. Ironic, but something about the space felt familiar, sacred.
We settled in, made plans for dinner, and began the main work on the agenda for the weekend: storytelling. Early on, our leader made it very clear the work he had planned and prioritized for this getaway weekend was not so much calendaring or discussing ministry business, but the discipline of storytelling. He led by example, and Jeff told us his story first. We sat, our eyes fixed on him, and listened as he opened up and told us about his life. From talk of his childhood to the day he felt called to ministry, we listened and learned. Our minds and hearts slowly began to open as we developed new understanding into who and how he is.
As the weekend went on, we all began to share our stories with one another. We listened to the stories, which ultimately make up who and how we are, and we asked questions. Before this weekend, we worked together—or maybe it is more accurate to say we worked around one another. We got our jobs done at least. However, something changed at that little white lake house church. We allowed ourselves to go away to an environment where we were exposed and began to have open conversation with one another. We ran wild toward vulnerability.
Beyond Personality Clashes and Hurt
What if for you, relational difficulties with those you work with go way beyond personality clashes and quirks? Maybe you’ve experienced betrayal by someone you thought you could trust. Youth ministers tend to put their hearts on the line in the work of ministry. You did, and now you regret it. Trust me, I’ve been there, too. Before I left seminary, I found myself in a ministry position I had grown to despise. My vision of healthy youth ministry did not include trying not to cry at a Starbucks while my boss told me to suck it up. I lost my home, my faith in ministers and my desire to continue in this calling. It was the faithful prayer of a few professors, friends and family members pleading to the Father on my behalf that kept me from throwing in the towel altogether.
Some say personalities can kill relationships, but really it is people who kill relationships. People are broken. The unfortunate reality for us is that we often value our differences more than our unity in Christ. Personality tests can be helpful for teams, but we often can use their result to box people into categories. We can cherish political or theological differences and use them against each other. We allow our differences to distract us.
I love the way Eugene Peterson words Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. Paul tells the Ephesians to walk in the ways of Jesus with the lowly mind of humility, gentleness and patience—putting up with one another in love. It is a long journey, and it requires a continual process of “pouring yourselves out for each other in acts of love, alert at noticing differences and quick at mending fences.”1 The differences never stop glaring like neon signs; they always will be there. What may not be evident in your life or mine is the “pouring ourselves out for each other in acts of love” or us being “quick at mending fences.” I know I can work on those virtues, and I’m sure you can, too; but the motivation for me comes because I know my colleagues’ stories. I know what they are dealing with at home and in their ministries, as well as stuff they still are dealing with from their pasts. I know all this because we ran wild with one another toward vulnerability.
Safety Leads to Survival
Yesterday, I sat on a plane on the way to Denver for my cousin’s wedding. American Airlines featured NBC on the small TVs during the flight. I waited to see what was playing before completely tuning out and taking a nap. It happened to be “Running Wild with Bear Grylls,” and this episode featured one of my favorite actresses, Kate Hudson. I thought I would give it a go. At one point, Bear and Kate set up camp in the woods for the night: a fire, a pigeon roasting on two sticks, and a mattress made of leafy evergreen branches. It was in this sacred space in the wilderness where Kate started to open up and tell bits and pieces of her life story to Bear. Later, she reflected to the camera, “It’s funny, because when you’re out in the wilderness talking to Bear, you begin to share things you wouldn’t normally share. You get people in environments where they are exposed, and it allows for more open conversation.”
Vulnerability is risky, especially before knowing one another. Someone always has to make the first move. At the end of the episode, Kate Hudson reflected on her experience with Bear. She told him not to bring choppers. He landed, climbing down a rope from one dangling above Hudson’s head. She reminded him she had two kids at home, and he continually put her in potentially dangerous situations. During each challenging moment on her journey, Kate kept saying, “I have to trust Bear…I have no other choice.” At the end, she said, “You know, Bear did not always do what I asked him to do…but he kept me safe.”
We listen to the story of the staff member who drives us up the wall, paying attention to the empathy gained from hearing her story. We work on keeping one another safe. We work on being trustworthy people. We work on providing safe places where people can run wild toward vulnerability. Finally, we remind ourselves of the beautiful truth from High School Musical, “We’re all in this together.” From the maintenance staff, to the administrative staff, to the ministerial staff, we are all here for one common purpose: to seek first the kingdom of God. Whether no one else sees it, we can see it; and the change we desire to see in our staff and ministry can begin with us.
1 Ephesians 4:3, The Message
