The Gift of Greater Things

David L. McKenna 
This article provided by the Engstrom Institute

On my first visit back to a university where I had served as president, I met the Superintendent of Buildings and Grounds while walking across the campus. I greeted him by name and asked the question for which we do not expect an honest answer, "How are things going?" His eyes lit up and his voice lifted as he exclaimed, "Great. Things are better than ever!" Of course, I sounded equally enthusiastic when I returned, "Great!" but inside I felt the green demon of envy saying, "How can things be better than ever? I am no longer president."

My troubling thoughts dogged my steps me after I retired and began to reflect upon the question, "How do we ultimately assess Christian leadership, whether in the presidency, pastorate or other chief executive positions?" When we are in the midst of ministry, we use standards tools such as, task descriptions, strategic plans, and performance goals to measure the outcomes of leadership. But how do we make a judgment on the net results of our ministry after we retire, resign or move on? When the tributes are given and the summary of a career is written in a paragraph of history, positive contributions are usually cited in numerical growth of people and budgets along with the highlights of new programs and new construction. Qualitative judgments may include such personal kudos as "visionary," "servant," "builder," "people person," "communicator" or even "leaders of leaders" "preacher of preachers," and "pastor of pastors." While each of us would welcome such tributes, what else do we need to know about the legacy of a leader?

Christ gives us the answer when he startled his disciples with the promise, "I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these because I am going to the Father." (John 14:12). His motley crew had to blink in disbelief. They had seen Jesus heal the sick, drive out demons, and raise the dead. His eloquent words had stunned the scholars and his uncanny reasoning had reduced the scribes to silence. No stretch of imagination could take them into the realm of greater things. Yet, with the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, Jesus' promise proved to be true. Leaving his disciples the example of his life, the truth of his teaching, the efficacy of his death, the power of his resurrection, and the promise of his Spirit, he gave them the gift of greater things.

After watching Christian leaders come and go for more than 50 years, I decided to put Christ's words to the test. What if we judged Christian leaders by what they left behind in order for their successors to go on to greater things? Or, imagine a ceremony of succession when the outgoing leader, after acknowledging all of the tributes to personal virtues and institutional success, turns to the incoming leader and says, "Greater things than these will you do." How many outgoing leaders could honestly make that promise? So often when we leave our position, our ego takes hold. Like my meeting with the Superintendent of Buildings and Grounds, we want our career to be remembered as the peak of institutional history. If it is, we have failed as leaders.

Deficits of Succession

In leadership development, we talk about personal "derailers" that throw leaders off track. In one way or another, these derailers are related to character or competence and can bring down the best of us. The literature is replete with warnings against these pitfalls and heavy with recommendations for preventive disciplines. What about the other side of the legacy that a leader leaves a successor, namely the vitality and maturity of the organization itself? Are there organizational deficits as well as personal derailers that require remedial action and impede the progress toward greater things? Experience gives an affirmative answer and sees these deficits in several categories.

The most serious of all organizational deficits in the succession of Christian leadership is diminished integrity in theology or mission. Defection from the faith is a sad part of our history, whether in our churches, our colleges, our missionary ventures, or our charitable institutions. Sadder yet is the fact that defection comes bit by bit as leaders make accommodations in theology or mission, presumably to stay relevant with the culture or viable in the market. Harvard University is often used as an example. Etched on the archway at the entry to the campus is the word "Veritas." When it was written, it meant the truth of Christian revelation. Later on, a subtle shift in the definition of the word took it to mean the truth of natural philosophy. From there, it was a small step to interpret "Veritas" as "veritas" with the assumption that all truth is relative.

Similar changes in the theological or mission statements of our institutions leave a flawed legacy for our successor. What does it mean when a megachurch advertises its services as place where people can feel safe and comfortable? What is the impact of a mission statement that skips from inerrant Word to the prospering Spirit and leaves the Cross of Christ behind? What will be the long-term effect of exchanging the Revelation for the Story? What are consequences of changing the name "chapel" to "convocation" in order to qualify for public funds? What is the outcome when a pastor turns the pulpit into a political platform?

As a seminary president I have personally witnessed the end results of diminished integrity in our church and colleges. Time and time again I have heard the stories of our seminary graduates who were assigned to churches where pastors and people had settled for mild homilies and nominal faith. I have also counseled with candidates for the presidency of Christian colleges where the leaders and faculty had denied their evangelical roots. In each case, the task of recovery has been so formidable that I have likened it to "trying to turn a battleship with an oar." Rare is the miracle story in which a pastor or president survives to go on to greater things.

Close behind the flaw of diminished integrity is the inheritance of a dysfunctional environment. We know that the Body of Christ is not perfect. Emotions rise and fall and relationships ebb and flow, but when the family becomes dysfunctional, progress is paralyzed. Most often, the root of the problem can be traced to a dysfunctional person who sabotages leadership and poisons the whole community. Pastors, in particular, who have to deal with members who can vote with their feet, will tend to put on a gas mask as protection against the toxic environment and hope that it will go away. It never does. When the pastor who wears a gas mask moves on, the poison persists, the dysfunctional member is still a saboteur and the Body of Christ is still paralyzed. The successor has the option of putting on a gas mask with the hope that the poison will dissipate or doing radical surgery on the dysfunctional member at the risk of short-term tenure. In either case, the gift of greater things is either lost or deferred.

We must immediately connect a dysfunctional environment with encumbering decisions that some Christian leaders leave to their successors. Encumbering decisions come in two forms: delayed decisions or the failure to act and presumptive decisions or the arrogance to overact. Delayed decisions come when the leader leaves critical issues for action by the successor. Passing on the decision to deal with incompetent people or failing to address unresolved issues, for instance, are unforgivable sins in leadership. Presumptive decisions made by a departing leader, such as initiating a pet program, ballooning the salaries of staff or proposing a capital campaign that bind the hands of the successor are equally unforgivable. We despise political leaders who give last minute pardons or last minute appointments to their allies. A Christian leader who is moving on and makes presumptive decisions about people, programs or budgets that slow or stall the progress of a successor toward greater things is not much better.

Another organizational deficit in the legacy of leadership is debilitating debt, often deferred and frequently hidden. When we think about the debt load of institutions we tend to fix on short-term operational deficits based upon poor management, declining support or bad times. They are a drag on the incoming leader's ability to go forward, but not as detrimental to progress as long-term deficits created during times of growth and prosperity. "Good times hide bad management" is a proven adage. Assuming that growth and prosperity will go on forever, capital debts for incurred that do not take into account economic volatility or environmental changes. The discipline of financial planning gives way to the pressure of current demands and opportunities. Letting the good times roll, buildings are built, staff are hired, programs are added, and obligations are compounded. Because these debt-loads must be carried for decades, a leader who appears to be highly successful can hold hostage the potential of a successor for years to come.

Our successors can also be hampered when they inherit an unrealistic vision. We put a premium upon visionary leadership, and rightly so. But like all of our strengths, the ability to cast a vision for the future of the organization we lead can be overdone. Vision statements that extend too far into the future or set unrealistic goals are like debilitating debt because they too can bind the hands of our successor.

At the opening the 1960's long-term strategic planning based upon visionary of leadership came into its own in American higher education. Glossy brochures with ten year plans touted lofty numerical goals for enrollments, endowments, and new construction. Before the decade was out, those plans were gathering dust on the shelf. With radical changes in the culture, the ten year plans were trashed and higher education had to take its planning back to square one. The same thing can happen to denominations, local churches, parachurch ministries and missionary movements. By projecting too far into the future and setting overly ambitious goals, visionary leaders can put an undue burden upon their successors when they inherit the onerous task of revising time schedules and adjusting numerical goals that have become firm expectations for the congregation or the constituency.

Still another deficit from the gift of greater things is a loss of momentum. All institutions advance in their mission at varying speeds. Thrusts of high speed are matched by natural slow-downs as external circumstances or internal decisions affect the speed of progress. Leaders have their foot on the gas pedal. Momentum can be abruptly stalled by a leader who comes to a sudden stop. Examples include a pastoral leader who rejects the initiative of a church plant for fear of loss in the congregation or a college president who half-heartedly enters a capital campaign. A particular threat to institutional momentum comes when a leader decides to ride out the time before moving or retiring. Everything goes on hold when a leader takes his foot off the gas pedal. Fear, failure and fatigue are common causes of lost momentum, but emotional detachment is a cause of its own. Leaders who are anticipating a move will often avoid initiatives that involve long-term commitment. Others want to announce their retirement two years in advance. Still others take emotional sabbaticals from the arduous task of leadership. In each case, the institution stalls and goes into a "wait and see" posture. Successors, then, cannot hit the ground running. Their primary task is gear up the organization to move forward again. Whether we are dealing with lame ducks, burned out executives or interim pastors, the drag on momentum is evident when an incumbent leader is no longer fully and incarnationally invested in the destiny of the organization.

One more deficit for a successor in leadership is diverted loyalty. Good leadership is always relational. Christian institutions are planted, built, grown, and supported by people who bond in common loyalty with the leader. Sometimes, however, the loyalty gets stuck in the personal relationship and is never transferred from the personality of the leader to the mission of the institution. When this happens, the leader has failed at one of key principles of relational development. Loyalty to a person must be transferred to the purpose of the institution. If not, a major handicap is created for the successor. Example after example can be cited. A long time pastor succeeded in developing close relationships with a powerful clique in the church. After leaving, he continued to claim their loyalty and became the sounding board for their complaints. In another instance, a very effective development officer wooed and won a large donor whose major gifts funded campus buildings. When a new president came in, the donor insisted that the board had made a mistake. Because the new president was not the man to whom his loyalty was pledged, he took his money and walked. As difficult as it may be, one of the explicit goals for leadership in Christian institutions should be the transfer of loyalty from the person to the purpose of the ministry. Anything less is a show of ego for the leader and speed bump for the successor on the road to greater things.

Accelerators of Succession

No leader is perfect; no institution is perfect. When we leave a position, we leave behind white elephants. Every time I return to the campus of my first presidency, I cringe at the sight of fluted Grecian columns on the front of a squat red brick building that served as our administrative hall. Believe it or not, the columns were designed on a paper napkin while drinking coffee with a vice-president. It was my weak attempt to add some special dignity to a campus where buildings were erected by volunteer and student labor from rough drawings on oil paper. Today, however, those white columns are considered McKenna's white elephant because they stand out with such incongruity to the new campus across the street where the wizards of architecture have worked their wiles.

My successors survived the white columns, but what else did I leave them when I left? Back then, the thought of judging leadership by what the leader left behind was almost unknown. Performance was judged by what the leader did while in office and usually related to short term goals. The time has now come to be intentional about the gifts that a leader leaves behind. Individually, we expect a leader to leave the virtues of personal integrity, spiritual maturity, and professional competence. Institutionally, can we not expect a leader to leave behind the values of organizational vitality and maturity upon which the successor can go to achieve even greater things? Having seen the deficits that handicap our successors and impede the progress toward our mission, we can now turn the tables and identify the gifts of succession that accelerate progress toward the achievement of greater things. These accelerators include:

1. Missional Integrity—historical, theological and philosophy congruence with the mission of the institution;
2. Visionary Flexibility—strategic options for timelines and tactics based upon changing external and internal circumstances;
3. Organizational Momentum—a sense of a movement leaning forward into the future with energy and enthusiasm.
4. Communal Morale—a transparent climate created by clear decisions and open communication in which people can grow and issues resolved;
5. Financial Discipline—an annual budget process matched by a long-term plan to assure the economic viability of the organization;
6. Transferable Loyalty—evidence that key persons serving and supporting the institution are philosophically and emotionally committed to the mission of the institution.

Organizational maturity tends to be a spontaneous process. Great leaders are naturally disposed to cultivate accelerators because of their instincts for good governance and their recognition that these marks of momentum are present in a quality organization, whether the leader is in tenure or transition. Now, as another dimension of leadership development, we press home the point that all Christian leaders should become intentional about advancing organizational accelerators and avoiding deficits just as we are urged to cultivate personal virtues and avoid the temptations that can derail our career. Of course, personal virtues and organizational values are not created all at once. Just as an annual performance review assesses personal and professional growth toward maturity for a leader, it should also include an appraisal of the progress toward organizational maturity. Then, when the time comes for transition, the gift of greater things is passed on.

One Last Gift

An outgoing leader has one more gift to give. It is the gift of getting out of the way. Greater things will never happen as long as the shadow of a former leader hangs over the administration of a successor. Whether the shadow is created by a formal title, such as emeritus status or an informal connection, such as friendship patterns that become vehicles for criticism, it is patently unfair for the outgoing leader to cast a shadow over the light of a successor. If we must err in the transition of leadership, let's err on the side of the successor. After appropriate words of appreciation and gifts of gratitude have been given to an outgoing leader, a clean surgical cut needs to be made with any encumbering alliance that might become limit the freedom of the successor to move on. To lead with the mind of Christ and the power of His Spirit, we need to leave to our successor the virtues of personal integrity and the vitality of organizational maturity. Then, to assure the gift of greater things, we need to get out of the way.

Key Words: legacy, transitions, succession, Christian Leadership.

For further reading on the subject, see The Leader's Legacy (Barclay Press, 2007) by David L. McKenna. David L. McKenna served for 33 years in Christian higher education as President of Spring Arbor University, Seattle Pacific University, and Asbury Theological Seminary. Retired since 1994, he continues to write, speak, and consult with trustees and presidents of Christian colleges and universities. He and his wife, Jan, live in Kirkland, WA.