Calling Out Hidden Obstacles that Obstruct Good Feedback

I set out to write about how to create mechanisms for you to receive feedback and constructive criticism from your church.

(This was the “topic for another day” I mentioned in my last post.)

As I thought about this, though, another more fundamental question came to mind.

Why is it so hard for us pastors to invite feedback in the first place?

I have to admit—I was a bit nervous.

I had just stepped into my new role in a training program for ministers, right in the middle of the school year.

Four weeks later the pandemic tore through our city and everything shut down. We had to move our three-hour in-person classes to an online format at the drop of a hat—all while creating (trying to create?) transformative learning experiences for our pastors-to-be.

So when I started setting up student appointments a month later to get their feedback on the year, I was nervous.

I hardly knew most of them. I was still feeling pretty insecure as the new guy on the team. And I had no clue how they would respond.

In the end those conversations were a highlight of the term. Not only did our relationships grow over Zoom, their thoughts shaped key structural changes we made the following summer.

I wanted to create a transformative learning experience for them, and their feedback propelled me forward.

So why was I so nervous?

Why are we pastors reluctant to get feedback?

1. We are well trained.

Many of us have formally prepared for ministry. And all of us read books and listen to sermons and talk with other pastors.

We’ve spent years thinking about and preparing ourselves for this moment.

Why then should we seek input on pastoral matters from someone who hasn’t given such time and energy?

Sounds kinda harsh, doesn’t it?

Well, it is. That may be why I don’t recall anyone ever saying it out loud.

It’s painful to admit.

You could come up with a dozen terrific responses that put this line of thinking in its place.

Yet the power of the argument can remain as unbroken as it is silent in the background of many pastors’ minds.

2. We know what we’re trying to do.

This one is closely related to the first: both have to do with a positive and likely honest acknowledgement of our gifting and calling.

The difference is that the first reason leans backwards, upon our formation, whereas this leans forwards, towards our intention.

Consider the iceberg. Our congregants see only what is visible above the surface. We know everything that’s going on below, the theology, the reasoning, the context, the aspiration.

Their feedback, then, is necessarily incomplete. They can’t see the whole picture.

Furthermore, haven’t they set us aside for this work? Isn’t it our job to spend our time below the surface?

Why then seek their input when they don’t know the whole story?

3. We prayed about this.

As harsh as the first two are, this is by far the most dangerous yet.

No doubt you intercede for your flock. You cry out to God for the lost. You pray for fruitfulness in your ministry endeavors.

You are a minister of God. That means you are a person of prayer.

Sure, maybe you don’t pray enough. Who can say they do?

My point is that you do pray.

That, however, is not the problem.

The problem is when we assume the ideas or visions or strategies that came to us in prayer are inviolable revelations from God. And you don’t have to be Pentecostal to draw that conclusion.

Once we conclude that our plan has a divine stamp of approval, we easily slip into the belief that our plan and God’s plan are one and the same, and that our methods are above criticism by those not granted the same kind of spiritual vision or authority as we.

And that makes us scary dangerous.

We grow rigid and incorrigible, a half step away from becoming spiritually abusive with our leadership.

So of course we don’t seek input from others.

4. We already receive enough feedback.

I could’ve have put this at the top of the list. It was the first thing that came to mind when I asked myself, “Why don’t I seek feedback?”

“Because I already get more than I want!”

Among the other stresses and strains of 2020, this has emerged as a common refrain: the incessant feedback loop via social media or email or private conversation.

Everyone has an opinion, and everyone seems eager to share theirs with their pastor.

I get it. I really do.

But maybe, just maybe, the reason you’re getting all this negative feedback right now is that people don’t have a way to give any regular feedback.

It’s worth some reflection.

5. We misuse the metaphor of a shepherd.

The shepherd-sheep analogy recurs throughout Scripture, and it is critical to right pastoral practice.

We are shepherds serving at the will of the Chief Shepherd before whom we will give account for our care of his flock.

That’s a daunting responsibility.

A problem emerges, however, when we press every aspect of pastoral work into this analogy.

Metaphors have their limits. Not least of which (in this context) is that we pastors are also sheep.

Everything we’ve ever told our churches about sheep also applies to us.

We too are short-sighted, defenseless, and weak. We too need shepherds.

And not just older pastors. Sometimes God sends us good counsel in the form of immature sheep.

That’s what he did when Abimelech, a pagan king, pointed out the sin of Abraham, the father of faith.

Should we expect something different for ourselves? 

6. We love something else more.

Here’s the heart of the problem.

We love affirmation: we want to hear rosy comments about how great a job we’re doing.

Or maybe it’s control: we believe that we know what needs to happen and that we know how to get it done.

Perhaps we want comfort: we hope everyone would just get along and let the church move forward in peace.

Or what we want is significance: we want to be the next success story, the church that’s talked about at the next conference, the pastor who’s asked to write a book.

In other words, we are idolators.

That’s the bad news. And asking people for their feedback isn’t going to fix us.

Only Jesus can. And he will.

He lived the life we failed to live, rejecting fame, relinquishing power, giving up ease, sacrificing significance.

And he died the death we should have died, paying the debt we pastors owe for our ministry transgressions.

And he rose again to give us new life and to usher in the recreation of all things.

Including his shepherds.

He is making you new. The gospel is your security. It forms your identity. And it frees you to a new life.

You need not fear criticism anymore.

Discussion Question

Which of these resonates most powerful with you? What have I missed in this list?

Just post it in the comments below. Or use the form on the right side to send me an email.