Teaming: Putting It All
Together
WE KEEP FORGETTING THAT WE ARE BEING SENT OUT TWO BY TWO.
WE CANNOT BRING GOOD NEWS ON OUR OWN.
WE ARE CALLED TO PROCLAIM THE GOSPEL TOGETHER,
IN COMMUNITY.
Henri J.M. Nouwen, In the Name of Jesus
I was concluding a mission at Wheaton College when David Hubbard's secretary, Inez Smith, called me from California. She said the Fuller Seminary president was returning to Pasadena by way of Seattle and would like to accompany me on the flight back home from Chicago.
I was delighted to have this time with one of God's choice servants and leaders in the evangelical community. I figured Dr. Hubbard must have had in mind some promotional assignment for me, which I would have done gladly. Although I was on the board of trustees at Princeton at the time, representing the seminary alumni, I was always interested in the work of Fuller Seminary and its growing influence in this country and around the world.
On the trip back to Seattle, Dr. Hubbard was gracious and, as always, a good friend. As we talked, he reached into his briefcase and took out
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a ten-year "Forward Plan" for the seminary — a thick book filled with page after page of dreams and visions for the future of Fuller.
I was eager to know about the direction of the school, but I thought all the detail Dr. Hubbard was sharing with me a bit strange. As we approached Seattle, he said, "If I were to recommend your name to the search committee for a new faculty person in the field of evangelism, would you pray about it?"
His words almost jolted me out of my seat. My mind was all awhirl. Of course, I'd pray about it. But I also had a few anxieties, the first being my lack of academic qualifications to hold a faculty position in such a prestigious school. How could I teach at Fuller with only a master's degree in theology? Ph.Ds were a prerequisite to work in academia, Christian or secular, and I doubted my ability to teach classes at the graduate level.
But my anxiety didn't end there. I did not even consider myself an effective evangelist, which could pose quite a problem to teaching evangelism in a graduate school such as Fuller. I did endeavor to point people to Christ and counted it a privilege whenever I could lead a person to the quality of commitment that engaged and produced new life, but I never felt very comfortable in that role. I had to be honest with myself and with Dr. Hubbard: I did not feel qualified for the kind of confrontive evangelism that carries the initiative all the way through. Still another anxiety was whether I would have the potential to teach evangelism at any level, to say nothing of a graduate program. Would anything I might teach make students eager to share the Lord? That was my real question.
But while these many anxieties lingered, a tiny ray of encouragement also came over my spirit, because I did have the desire to be of help to those entering into ministry or who wanted to serve Christ either at home or abroad. I had picked up that concern in the early years when I worked so closely with Henrietta Mears in Hollywood and at Forest Home. Other great influences were my friends David Cowie, Clyde
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Kennedy and the other fellows on our weekend deputation team back at Princeton. And of course there was Dawson Trotman who would always remind me, "Hey, Bob, just put your hand into developing men and women for the cause of Christ." So simple. So direct. So profoundly right! Then there had been the positive experience at Berkeley, where the seminary students who had gone out from that fellowship had made such a lasting impact on lives throughout the country and around the world. There was also my current ministry in Seattle, where God was blessing our church's outreach in so many ways. All of these things told me that evangelism was indeed a primary personal desire of mine, something I had always regarded as a high privilege, however ineffective my efforts might be.
In the Throes of a Decision
While still casting Dr. Hubbard's invitation in my mind, a few of my anxieties began to abate as I began to realize I truly did have something to share with theological seminaries. I had been critical of their ways, throwing rocks over the wall for too long. Seldom did I produce any viable solutions to what I saw were endemic problems. Now, it seemed God was saying to me, Munger, it's time for you to take a more positive role. Quit trying to create change from the outside. Now is the time to get on the inside and be of some influence — in the right spot — regarding your many concerns.
It was a word from the Lord that I needed to hear. I certainly had learned something of value during my last years in Seattle that would be of help on the inside of theological education. For years I had been aware of a lack of staying power, zeal and enthusiasm — not only in pastors but in seminarians at large. In the sixties, an article in a Christian journal, entitled "Emancipation of the Ministry," expressed what I had often seen happening. I had been saying to myself, These well-meaning young seminarians need to know what they're getting into. Now I felt I would be able to help articulate those challenges from my personal
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experience of thirty years as a pastor.
I had gone through the personal isolation of the pastorate, and I knew I could talk about unspeakable joy in the midst of pain with the authority of one who had been there. I could also envision an entire course on the various kinds of callings to the ministry. Each time I had been called, the experience had been different. Students needed to know there is no uniformity in the calling of God or the guidance of God. On the contrary, he deals with us as unique personalities and always takes into account where we are in our spiritual journey.
With this opportunity to go to Fuller before me, I earnestly sought the opinion of several significant people in my life, among them Bruce Larson and Ralph Osborne of Faith at Work. I also needed to know the feelings of my staff at University Church. I knew my leaving would affect them, and I wanted to be sure I got their honest opinion. With that desire in mind I asked my staff to join me away from the church for a short retreat, where we would have two nights and nearly three days in the home of one of our members, on the beach on the north shore of Puget Sound.
The last night together, we worked out some of the interpersonal problems of the church as best we could. Then I told my staff I might be going to Fuller. The last thing I said to them that night is as clear as if I were to say it today. I said, "When we get together tomorrow morning, we're not just going to discuss this initiative and then make a move. At eleven a.m. tomorrow I want to go around the circle and ask you to tell me honestly whether you favor my move to Fuller or not. I also want you to tell me why or why not."
The next morning I went around the circle and encouraged each person to ask questions and raise issues of concern to them. What would be best for them, for the school and for the church?
One by one, every staff person said it was his or her personal conviction that Edie and I should take advantage of this opportunity!
There came over me a marvelous sense of freedom. I knew my
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departure would involve painful changes for them, but I felt their unanimity placed a seal on my decision. That kind of decision-making process blessed them and told them that they were important not only to God but to me. At the outset of our conversation I had felt unsettled, not knowing what their response might be. But as we worked through our feelings together, our love and appreciation for one another grew. That is what community is all about. One of the great tragedies in so many of our so-called Christian fellowships is that such mutually uplifting conversations as these are so few and far between.
Decision Made!
Professor and author Robert Clinton says that after you go through a period of training in ministry, you mature in ministry. Only then will you mature in spirituality. That's where you grow in your knowledge of God and the leadership in God. You can be mature in knowing how to minister and still not be mature in knowing the ways of God in ministry. Those are important distinctions. Some have one without the other and vice versa.
When I made my decision to take the assignment at Fuller, I realized God had already brought me to a place in my life where he had given me a balance. I had gone through some difficult times in Seattle which resulted in my constantly growing in my walk with the Lord and my experience as a pastor. Now, putting most of my doubts, anxieties and fears aside, I was ready to share my honest experiences with others who one day would be taking my place in the church universal. I was ready to unload some cargo, and God told me this was the right time and right place. Just thinking about a future ministry at Fuller took a huge weight off my shoulders.
A "Frantic Learner"
I arrived at Fuller and began my assignment. I was pleased the administration trusted me with the classes I was given to teach. It was a
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rewarding experience to find myself not a stranger on the faculty but considered an instructor. For the first time in longer than I could remember I didn't have to worry about sermons or staff problems. I had the luxury of focusing all my attention on my classes and my students. It was a remarkable learning and growing experience to be able to enjoy a physical, intellectual and spiritual renewal.
As part of my desire to understand the motivation of the young men and women I was teaching, I always had them sketch out two or three pages about their reasons for coming to Fuller. Amazing stories always surfaced. Increasing numbers of students each quarter declared their allegiance to Jesus Christ and to a wide interest in evangelism and sharing the good news with the world. Year after year those students contributed so much to me through the vitality of their own faith and the dedication of their lives. I expected them to do their best, and they, in turn, challenged me to do my best as well.
My own academic course work pushed me to be on top of my subject, although I admit at times I was only one or two weeks ahead of some of the eager young minds who sat in front of me day after day. I became what Max DePree, in Leadership Jazz, calls a "frantic learner." With my formal ministerial duties now at an end, I could identify with the feelings of the children of Israel as they finally came out of the wilderness into a land flowing with milk and honey. Seattle hadn't necessarily been Egypt, and Pasadena was no Israel, but for all practical purposes they might as well have been.
The Challenge of Servant Leadership
Whether in our seminaries or in our congregations, vast numbers of teachers, pastors and students become inheritors of a tradition but lack a personal relationship with God. In their quest for academic glory or ego-driven pulpit appearances, some have desensitized themselves to the presence, power and purpose of the living Christ. Anticipating the future needs of my students, I witnessed many who were orthodox in
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their faith — they believed Christ truly to be their Savior and Lord — but who lacked the strong motivation, concern and commitment to impart new life to others through the gospel. Still other students would receive a call to share the message of Christ but seemed forever committed to struggling with how to integrate their belief with the rest of their lives.
This was where I had found myself during my own seminary years. I believed; I had received a divine call; I knew that Jesus was my Savior and Lord. Still, so often I struggled in vain to reproduce that quality of life which would be of honor to the Father.
Then there was yet another group of scholars at Fuller who were called and already eminently equipped to share and serve in the power of the Holy Spirit from the very start of their seminary work. There had not been many of those individuals in my personal seminary experience. But now Fuller would give me the opportunity to be of help to any and all these groups of young men and women, regardless of who they were or where they happened to be in their Christian walk.
The Joys of Being a Servant
It was once generally assumed by graduate schools of theology that seminary students had already matured in the faith and, therefore, that the institution was absolved of any responsibility to lead them further in developing and nurturing their spiritual lives. Today — and even when I was at Fuller — the key issues of Christian formation and discipleship are being taken much more seriously. Little did I know that after all my years of seemingly endless formation, I would still have much to learn as teacher and student. I learned so much from the students in my own classes and still regard them as personal treasures.
I especially find myself reflecting deeply on my courses on intercession, where at the close of class three or four students would always gather in groups to share, pray and support one another. Those men and women were not on campus simply to achieve academic excellence, as important as that would be to them in their future ministries. The real
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reason they had come to Fuller was to be sensitized by God, energized by the Holy Spirit to do his will and to use the words of World Vision founder Bob Pierce: "Let my heart be broken with the things that break the heart of God." They were learning to become servants as it was taught and modeled by Jesus, Paul, Epaphroditus, Timothy and other Bible stalwarts. I, too, was learning the fine art of servant leadership, alongside them each step of the way.
Every time I think of a "faithful servant" I think of our servant Matthew, who was so close to us in our brief overseas mission in the Indian state of Kerala in 1956. True servanthood is marvelous, and Edie and I saw it embodied in Matthew, who was assigned to travel with us as we moved from village to village. Every night he positioned himself for sleep on a mat in our doorway. As soon as we were in bed, he would put his mat down at the entrance of our room and would stay there until daylight. He would then get up and be about his daily chores. We felt secure and safe because we knew Matthew was always there to look after us. He was our servant, attending to our every need. That kind of dedicated, always-there servant is what Paul was talking about when he referred to himself as a bondslave to Jesus Christ. My friend Matthew was often in my mind at Fuller, as I made discovery after discovery on the powerful, life-changing influence of servant leadership.
Leading from Behind . . . Lifting from Below
Another surprising discovery for me was that one can motivate others from the rear position of leadership even better than from the front. I was not pulling my students toward spiritual things as an "up-front" leader; I was, in fact, providing direction from behind. I was pointing to Christ, our life, our leader and our Lord. John 8:12 was my theme then, as it continues to be my guide today: "I am the Light of the world. So if you follow me, you won't be stumbling through the darkness, for living light will flood your path" (LB). By coaching, teaching, modeling, encouraging, instructing and sharing, I was leading from the rear — and
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lifting from beneath. My ministry of instruction, counseling each student as an individual and in small groups and giving simple, consistent affirmation, was a new experience for me. But it was the only thing that made any sense. It's simply the biblical Barnabas role of paying attention to the spiritual development of others by encouraging them and letting them take first place.
In all this I was neither reticent to share my struggles nor hesitant to admit I was failing to be the full servant and model Christ wanted me to be. Besides, I don't think I ever could have faked it. My students would have seen through me immediately, had I tried any games or subterfuge. I simply struggled to keep my commitment to being a servant leader and hoped the spirit of my decision would be caught by the students. One of our themes was "The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (Mark 10:45). We learned that the light of Christ shines from any location, above or below. Wherever he is allowed to be known and when his will is done, his light shines. (The fact that students caught this truth was certainly not due to my academic prowess, because I had none.)
Fresh Movement of the Spirit
In the spring of 1970, the anti-Vietnam War fever began to reach a crescendo in our universities. The Kent State tragedy exploded across our headlines and television screens. With our own eyes we saw the National Guard mow down American students on their own campus. Immediately those became the "shots heard 'round the world," especially the student world. By demonstrating on campuses and shouting in the streets, through boisterous threatening and posturing, students who were against all violence were, in effect, creating the kinds of conflicts the very war they were protesting was engaged in.
The alienation was real. Students were disillusioned. The impact of the killings at Kent State was profound. I felt it at Fuller. I also felt it at Princeton Seminary, where I was attending a meeting of the seminary
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trustees. Some twenty-five of us were shut up for three hours our last day by antiwar seminary students who wouldn't let us out to catch our trains and planes home. Yet with anger, pain and angst descending on us at every turn, we began to see a student renewal movement slowly break out across the country — not only on university and high-school campuses but in the military as well.
During the next four years, we noticed a renewed interest among young people who were committing themselves to prepare for Christian ministry. The previous generation of seminarians often had come to study theology because they wanted more faith. Now came a crowd of students who came because they had faith — and conviction. They wanted to use their faith and share it, not just to add to it. There was a fresh breeze of the Spirit as earnest young men and women made evangelism the core of their spiritual lives. Sharing their new life in Christ was at the forefront of their desire.
This commitment to take the good news to the ends of the earth helped Fuller grow measurably in the early to late seventies. When I left the seminary we had grown from some four hundred students in the three graduate schools to over sixteen hundred, and the enrollment kept growing until its rolls showed upwards of three thousand men and women. Today, it remains the largest nondenominational school in the country.
I'm convinced God planted me at Fuller at the time when students were most receptive to our growing focus on evangelism. I was no more than a servant in that particular mix, privileged to have God's hand on me, my teaching and my life.
The rapid growth of the student body brought with it another new breed of men and women, many of whom had little or no spiritual maturity. Hundreds came without church background or exposure to congregational life and ministry. Many in my classes had almost no spiritual direction, had never been discipled, did not even know how to read the Bible for themselves or be fed by God's Word. Nor had they
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really gotten into prayer with any degree of consistency or knowledge. Certainly they were hungry for knowledge and fellowship. That was one of the reasons they had entered seminary. But now they found themselves in a strange new community, burdened with heavy schedules, with little opportunity to develop deep relationships in the midst of their academic pursuits. For all of us, students and teachers alike, it was always so easy to learn about God without ever learning to know God.
The Joy of Personal Relationships
The faculty longed to be able to give time to the students, and the young men and women needed this out-of-class nurturing. But the pressures of research, writing books, preparing lectures and grading papers made this a difficult task for most professors. When I first came to the school I expected I would have the time and energy to encourage and give counsel to students in a more intimate way than from behind a classroom lectern alone. But I, too, found I became overwhelmed by the demands of my job, which included scholarly research to improve my knowledge and writing curricula for classes.
I became concerned. Would I fall into the same trap I saw other faculty members falling into? In the long run, would I become so institutionalized and predictable in my approach that within a matter of a few years I would simply be there taking roll and lecturing, but not knowing the students? Fuller was — and is — blessed with a great faculty and great courses, but the perennial problem is that students often have difficulty finding themselves. There was always that creative tension that made our potential scholars wonder who they were, what they were doing and where they were headed.
An interesting research study emerged around 1975, when Thomas H. Holmes and Richard H. Rahe of the University of Washington published their scale for measuring stress associated with forty-three life-change events. These included the death of a spouse, divorce, death of a family member and so on. Too much life change in too short a time, the two
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researchers suggested, can create mental, spiritual and physical overload. The scale indicates that if one has a score of 100 to 300, the odds of an impending illness are raised to 51 percent. A score of 300 plus means one has an 80 percent chance of becoming seriously ill. A student in our school of psychology researched two or three of the small groups in my Foundations of Ministry class and discovered the average student was already operating at over 300 and often as high as 400, which meant there was a high probability of serious illness around the corner.
That survey made me understand the tremendous pressure under which our students were working and further helped me to emphasize the importance of sharing with each other our burdens, our stresses and our feelings. Students discovered that expressing their honest feelings — and having somebody listen to them with concern and identification — had its own marvelous healing effect. The relationships we developed because of this mutual openness enhanced all of our lives — and continues to do so to this day.
As a faculty member I already had firm biblical and theological convictions, but now I was developing an appreciation for the importance of a sensitive psychological understanding of our students as well. In one area, however, I was still less than comfortable: I did not understand the nature of spiritual development well enough to be able to pass it on. Slowly, however, I began to comprehend this issue and eventually had confidence enough to teach it. Before each class would begin, I was aware I was taking a crash course in virtually all subjects I was teaching. I never entered a classroom cocksure about my ability to handle any subject matter flawlessly. I was always on the edge of my own understanding of my subject, which prevented dogmatism and encouraged the use of the Socratic form of dialogue. Questions and answers; answers and questions; questions, questions, questions . . . no answers. Such was the nature of the give and take that made student and teacher one.
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Faith Renewal Teams
I learned much as a professor at Fuller, but perhaps the most critical thing God taught me was the importance of teaming in mission for spiritual formation and ministry. I had to learn that there is a difference between teaming for fellowship and personal growth and teaming in a common ministry in which one is out there doing it — doing it together, with each person part of a support team in actually fulfilling the purpose.
The following story is a good example of what I mean. During my first spring quarter at Fuller, I was invited to hold a mission at the First Presbyterian Church of San Luis Obispo. Bob Rodin, a teaching biologist at the University, had been in the Berkeley church years before and was now an elder in the San Luis Obispo church. He had a heart for missions and arranged my invitation to share with the San Luis Obispo congregation. I suggested that I would rather not do this alone but would like to bring three student couples with me. (I had already learned there was nothing more convincing of the truth of Christ in one's life than to see and hear eager young people who had chosen to forsake the appeal of money and "success" to become faithful servants of the Lord.) Dr. Rodin readily agreed with my suggestion, and together, as a team, the students went up with me on our first mission. I suggested that when we gave our witness we not share success stories about how "once I was sad, now I'm glad, once I was bad, now I'm good." Instead, I hoped we would share with our hearers that "he changed me from what I was, brought new life and purpose into my heart and mind, and I find he's with me now. However, the Lord who saved me then is now saving me from the pressures and circumstances of today. I'm still in a struggle, but God is keeping my chin above water by his grace, and we're here to tell you not success stories of radiant Christians who never have problems, but rather how we are being held together by the marvelous love and grace of Jesus Christ."
They all agreed their testimonies would go in two directions: vertically, sharing what Christ had done for us first, and then horizontally, telling
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what God was doing for us today in the journey of life. For this fledgling team, going out to minister for the first time, their own faith was on the line. But would their faith be strong enough to venture it? Would they risk going to an unknown place, with unknown people, and be willing to stand up and say what Christ meant to them in the struggles of seminary — to speak to the challenges of their student and personal lives?
I knew it was futile to try to fake it if there was any real desire to see the Spirit of God work. That's why we had to keep in shape spiritually, ever remaining in touch with God and with each other to demonstrate authenticity in sharing our witness.
That Friday night the members of the team gave their personal witness to some one hundred or more students from the area. The interest in their simple, straightforward approach was more than any of us had hoped for. Later when I spoke my word as follow-up, I gave an opportunity for the audience to consider the claims of Christ quietly in their hearts and make a personal response. I didn't even ask the people to raise their hands, but simply said we would be back Sunday morning and that we hoped everyone would bring two or three friends. Sunday morning two more members of the team gave their witness in what we now called "twofold dimensions," vertical and horizontal. Right with God and right together with brothers and sisters. "Get right, get together, and get going" was Sam Shoemaker's great formula, which we were really working at the time.
Many were back, some with friends along. In that setting, I didn't hesitate to invite members of the audience to step forward in a public confession for Christ, even though it really stunned the old members of the church because they had never seen anything like this in their lives. It even surprised the members of the team. But what amazed them most was the riveting impact of their testimony: a dozen or more students and two or three adults actually came forward as seekers.
On our return trip to Pasadena, they were some of the most excited students I've ever been with. Jon Wilson, who had another year to go,
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said, "Dr. Munger, we've got to do this some more!" And indeed we did. While driving back to campus we discussed the idea of putting together not a gospel team, but something we would call a Faith Renewal Team. We postulated that a team member couldn't bring faith with him on the road if he didn't already have it. But faith could be renewed if a man or woman was already a believer.
The name stuck, and the Faith Renewal Team was born. The idea of the team effort was not only to quicken the soul of the individual team member but also to quicken the life of the congregation. Our simple message was that through Christ we have new life, a new sense of love, and above all a companion and Lord who is leading us on our journey and giving us unspeakable joy.
That trip to San Luis Obispo was the beginning of a team movement at Fuller that helped shape the lives of hundreds of young seminarians in the years ahead. The following fall Jon Wilson brought together another six couples, mature seniors, eager to get out and do something for God. They weren't satisfied with a mundane, routine job in a church that would not give them the fresh experience of this type of teaming. They too became part of our growing group. Teaming in ministry was for them, and for hundreds more, a simple, honest experience of the great hope that was within them. The principles of teaming stayed practical and alive, because the students made the conscious commitment to remain accountable to one another. They also made the conscious commitment to remain accountable to one another. They also made the commitment to speak openly of their struggles every time they spoke, and to rely on the support of the team as they shared their struggles as well as their victories. It was koinonia in its truest form.
While the team grew in love for the Lord and for each other, the avowed intent of our renewal effort was to minister to local congregations. Our purpose was to quicken an awareness in evangelism and to be God's instruments to help renew the faith of people in the church. As a team we did our best to model what a Christian relationship could really be. God always seemed to use us to the degree to which we
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practiced our relationships during the week — loving one another at every opportunity, being brothers and sisters to one another and caring for each other, helping each other in our doubts, our fears and even our finances. One team member wrecked his car on his weekly commute to work in a local church. Without saying a word to anyone publicly, the six people on his team collected enough of their little savings to help him buy a used car which got his through to the end of the school year. That was our team in action. They spoke what they believed and lived what they were imparting to others.
I often used one little "show and tell" technique to help the team understand what really happens when we do — and do not — work together. I would take a styrofoam cup, punch several holes in it and then pour a generous amount of water into it. Obviously, water poured out from all sides and the cup quickly emptied. Then I punched holes in another cup in like manner. This time, I put the second cup into the first one and filled it with water. An amazing thing happened. Water still came out, but not with the same rate of flow. Then I took a third, fourth and a fifth cup, all duly punched full of holes. And by now you know the result. The holes no longer had the same effect. While water came out freely when one cup was on its own, no water came out when the cups were fitted closely together. That's what teaming was — and is — all about. We were always better off together than when we were separate.
The amazing thing about this team effort is that I can think of only one person who dropped out in all the ten years I worked with them. When one figures our Faith Renewal Teams brought together more than 250 students over a decade, that's not a bad average. One person died of cancer during our time together, and that was a tragedy we all had to deal with — something a psychologist would call material for our spiritual and emotional growth. But that, too, was a bonding experience for the team and for myself. As always, the team was there, ready and able to be God's men and women at a time of great need. One of our hallmarks was 1 John 4:11: "Since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another."
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While our little group of committed seminarians was an encouragement to others, the greatest impact of the team ministry was what it did for the members themselves. I thought it was by far the best thing God allowed me to do at Fuller in leadership development. I think those who were with us would say, almost to a person, that they learned as much about leadership development and spiritual resources in that team experience as they did in any of their other courses in seminary. Today, many of those students continue to carry the spirit of the team in their ministries in this country and around the world.
I suppose if I were starting all over mentoring team members today, I would probably add some of the principles from the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. Why? Because I'm now convinced that we are all basically severely addicted. We're addicted to sin and to the dominant desire of self to play the role of God. It's hard for us to be submissive to Christ as Lord and do what we know very well he asks us to. The old "flesh" has a way of imposing itself on us, dominating us, crushing us. And for that reason we need to treat the "lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life" as an addiction. I believe a modern-day faith renewal team could take the principles of Alcoholics Anonymous and put them to good use in the Master's service wherever there might serve — in the home, as small group leaders, as pastors or as church administrators.
I knew one thing for sure: our committed team members would never again go it alone in ministry. They learned what leaders today need to learn: teaming is a cure for burnout and a sense of spiritual failure. Teaming keeps one honest. Teaming keeps one humble. Teaming keeps one's perspective on the right track. Teaming provides fellowship. Teaming means you are never alone. For these reasons, those in or aspiring to leadership positions today simply must understand and implement the principles of a team. I do not believe that today's pastors can thrive — or even survive — as leaders without it.
For me, now almost two decades later, these principles continue to
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be alive in my own life. Whatever our ministry may be, we shoot ourselves in the foot if we insist on doing it all alone.
We need to take a fresh look at the life of Jesus and remember that he worked with a team! He not only trusted his disciples — his laity — but he spent time with them talking, eating, working, traveling. They were inseparable. Jesus gave his team special attention and asked them questions so they would give him feedback to show whether they grasped the full scope of his teaching. He taught them together, and he also taught them one at a time. He saw each person as a different personality and spoke to that disciple with deep sensitivity. Jesus was so much more than a quiet role model. He got involved with his team and gave them explicit instructions. As the team members would then go out on a mission two by two, he told them what to take, what to do and how to do it. That's involvement. Thank God our Faith Renewal Team members learned these same solid principles over the years, as we created a program that would meet our needs, would touch the lives of others and could be duplicated in the hearts of those we met.
I close this chapter — and this book — with a few paragraphs from letters I have received from some of these team members over the years. While they express their appreciation for my being their mentor, they give God the ultimate glory for how the Faith Renewal Team helped in the formation of their lives and ministries.
On the Faith Renewal Team I learned to love and learned how to let others love me. It was because of this love, acceptance and the close communion with others that the self-erected barriers within me began to crumble and I became more real. Further, I came to better understand the meaning of the Church universal: to discover there were others in churches beyond my small world who love Jesus Christ as much as I love him. — Glory HeesWhat a wonderful opportunity it was to be on the team. We really
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could, in the midst of actual ministry, explore and try out our gifts. We worked together as a body. How I trembled from fear as I stood in front of those churches, but my team members supported me in prayer. — Karen Lann
"Remember Jesus Christ," you said to me at my service of installation . . . and I will, because through you Jesus Christ has come alive to me in a way I had never known before. I have laughed with you, cried with you, prayed, preached and testified with you, and there has never been a man this side of heaven I have felt more love from than you. I look forward to an eternity together as your brother in Christ. — Doug Millham
Dr. Munger first started inviting a few couples to accompany him on weekend speaking engagements. As a team we set up entire renewal weekends. We started on Friday nights with meetings in small groups in homes led by one of our couples. We would have special classes on Saturday morning for spiritual growth and discussion, and culminate the weekend with participation in the Sunday morning worship service. Each Wednesday night we would meet in a home for a potluck supper and share our lives — the struggles, the pains, the victories, the answered prayers. Then we would minister to each other in prayer and plan the next weekend. Dr. Bob was one of the team, leading from behind, lifting from below, helping us to be our best for God. The principles learned those twenty-five years ago I have used to turn one church around, and I'm slowly turning around another. — Jon Wilson
As a member of the Faith Renewal Team for two years, it was my privilege to work at your side as team leader and captain. You taught me during those years to pray, to accept one another, to listen, to express our faith, and how to help people in the local church. Our marriage was strengthened, our ministry deepened. — Jim Hazlett
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Thank you, dear friends, for your words of encouragement. It is you who encouraged me. It is you who kept me on the path of servant ministry. It is you who have taken the torch of Christ's love to those who are lost at home and abroad. And while sickness and death will ultimately take members of our team from each other here on earth, let's remember that we will have an eternity to replay our experiences and relive the lives we so earnestly committed to the Father. Thank you for being such a wonderful part of my journey — one that truly will never end.
