What living in a highly critical environment can do to a minister

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Between the ages of 18 and 25, I lived in a highly critical environment. This started at Bible College, where every statement and behaviour went under a theological microscope. This wasn’t helped by being the youngest student there and coming from a very different cultural and church background to most to of the student body. Every decision, behaviour, clothing choice, reading book, and opinion seemed to be fair game (all in the pursuit of holiness, of course).

After this the feeling of constant criticism grew worse.

I went to work for a church in a very wealthy and conservative part of London where every detail was critiqued constantly as a matter of course. Complaints were part of the everyday, and not just against me. It was part of this church’s culture. If you preached on a Sunday morning, for instance, you would expect a considerable amount of ‘feedback’ whoever you were. I received critical emails, phone-calls, and third hand comments every week. Sometimes every day.

There was a weird expectation that this was a normal part of a minster’s life. Habitual feedback from any and all sources, over any pedantic reason, without any respect given to ‘proper channels’ or working hours, was seen as normal. Whether feedback was delivered with any empathy, kindness, or care simply didn’t matter. It was part of my job to receive it well and act on it immediately.

Working like this for seven years created very specific – and tiring – habits in me, that I’ve been working on ever since. A chip on the shoulder is certainly part of it. But more than that has come an irrational fear of feedback, a tendency to want to ‘duck away’ after leading something, an inability to let an issue go lest it fester and bite again later, the constant need to prove myself, and the more devastating temptation to people-please.

A highly critical environment pushes you to please people rather than Jesus a matter of survival. You really do just try and get out of meetings, or services, or phone calls alive. When you actively choose to try and please Jesus rather than critical people, it can feel like a dangerous act of rebellion. This is a weird position for a minister of the gospel to find themselves in while in a Christian environment.

Although receiving and using constructive feedback to grow is an essential skill for a minster to learn, a constant barrage of inconsistent criticism from a broad range of sources without a healthy balance of encouragement is just damaging. It doesn’t really matter how much of that feedback is true or even helpful; anything good is simply swallowed up by a far darker and more pressing whole.

When I think of what I went through in that time, it’s hard to explain exactly ‘what’ it was that happened that was so bad. One of the things I’ve discovered though, is it’s not just significantly traumatic events that cause trauma. A constant and relentless onslaught of picking at and picking on can produce exactly the same thing. Death by a thousand papercuts.

When every single conversation has subtext, and every person comes with the residual residue of gossip, then you find yourself having to navigate people far more than you relate to them.

As a result, you make decisions through personal damage-control rather than healthy maturity and wisdom. It’s not a good look.

So maybe two things: First, if you’re going to complain, critique, or feedback then please learn to do it well. Second, if you find yourself regularly on the receiving end of a lot of mixed critique, find a couple of godly people to hold you accountable. These are people who should challenge you and push you to grow, but in a clear relationship of love. Lean on those people and prioritise their feedback.

Ok, maybe three things – one more. If you are in a relentlessly critical environment, get out. Just get out. Finding a new job will be much easier than the years it’ll take to rebuild your spirit. Trust me.

I’m blessed now to have a good job with good people in my life – who have been patient with my healing process and have challenged me out of bad habits with a whole lot of grace. But I’m still working on this 10-15 years after the fact. It still makes me less effective as a minister today than I could be. It still makes me less inclined to trust people. It still makes me more tempted to please people rather than Jesus. It’s not a good look.

 

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The awkward side of working with Christian editors

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Editors can be weird. Really weird. I thought I’d share a couple of “those” stories today.

If you’re reading this, then you’ll probably know me as a Christian blogger. What you might not know, however, is that I spent several years freelancing as a copywriter for some high-profile clients. I’ve written for large tech blogs, newspapers, financial services, celebrity bakers, and fashion brands.

Each contract required me to write to a very specific brief, within a tight timeframe, in a bespoke tone, and sometimes in imitation of another’s voice. It’s all very specific and immensely demanding. I gave this up when my first book was accepted for publication.

I think that by writing in both the ‘secular’ and ‘Christian’ worlds, I have gained some insight into the differences that exist between the two. Spoiler alert, I’ve had by far the most difficult experiences with professional editors in the Christian world.

Before I go on, I’d like to say that I have met some incredibly talented and professional Christian editors. My book Rebooted, for instance, was edited by IVP with great skill and care. I’m not saying, therefore, that all Christian editors are poorer at their jobs than their non-Christian counterparts, as I’m sure I’d be wrong.

What I am going to do is tell three stories, each with a different editing oddity that I’ve experienced uniquely with Christian editors.

Amputating voice

I was commissioned to write a piece for a large American site on the topic of theological education. There were issues from the beginning.

As a large group, the site had multiple editors, and the commissioning editor was not the editor that was chosen to work with me. This second editor showed very little interest in the idea and took weeks (and sometimes months) to respond to my messages. This meant the piece took half a year to publish which, even on larger platforms in the digital world, is a very long time.

The biggest problem, however, was when I received the final draft back every single piece of personality or ‘voice’ was edited out of the piece. It was almost completely rewritten to be tone-deaf. Every single joke or lightly toned line, every carefully placed anecdote, and even every metaphor, was unceremoniously removed from the piece. One word for this would be ‘bland’ but it’s actually worse than that.

When I write an article that I know could be easily misunderstood or contentious, I work hard to flow in and out of concepts and suggestions both lightly and deliberately. Articles like this are composed, not just written. Tone is a specific tool that’s honed by a writer to move through paragraphs with rhythms and colour that serve the content. By removing these textures you create far more room for misunderstanding and end up with a much more polarising piece.

The result was a Frankenstein’s monster of what I’d written. It was completely without nuance, personality, or flow. As a result, it came across as aggressive and divisive.

If you need to change the tone that dramatically from the author you have chosen to voice the piece, then you need to go back to the author for a rewrite with a clearer brief. That, or you need to find a different author. Personally, I’d much rather an article is just rejected than published badly.

Click-bait

Online Christian media over the last decade has become increasingly funnel-shaped. The idea is to get as many hits onto an article as possible in the hope that some of them will read it, some of them will engage with it, some of them will share it, and some of that will result in revenue. It’s an awkward business really.

This often means that titles don’t always clearly flow from the piece but are designed to draw people in regardless of the content. I’ve had several debates with editors about titles to my pieces, but I’ve had a couple which changed the meaning entirely – and were published without checking with me first.

In one, I had phrased a title with an abstract question, which was instead changed into a blunt, definitive statement. One which I didn’t believe, and that the article didn’t say. In another, I had a description of a person from within the piece taken out of its context, and then starkly made into the entire title. Both rewritten titles were aggressive, volatile, combative, and deeply polarising – which I guess was the point, as they were clearly click-bait.

I did manage to get both changed back (somewhat), but this was after they were published, and some of the damage had already been done.

In a similar story, a friend wrote a 1000-word article about relativism in youth ministry in which Game of Thrones was mentioned just briefly, once, as one of several examples. The editor then retitled the piece something like ‘why Christians shouldn’t watch Game of Thrones’ even though the article had nothing to do with it. This provoked a huge social media backlash that wrongly tainted the author’s reputation and resulted in a very poor ‘response’ piece– which was then published by the original editor! If you’re interested, you can read my response to that response here.

When an editor uses an author’s piece to push readers into the funnel by using click-bait, they are showing enormous disregard for the author’s hard work and ongoing reputation – and it shows that they value the effect of a post far more than its content.

Pointless changes

This is an odd one, but probably the most pervasive. In many of my articles there has been something changed that absolutely didn’t need to be changed. This isn’t me just being a diva (although that can happen), it’s genuinely editors making completely unnecessary corrections, additions, deletions and significant voice changes without any discernible grammar, flow, audience, or content reasons why.

This can be quite innocent, like making sentences a little longer or shorter by changing punctuation. Sometimes this is necessary, but I’m talking about times that it makes genuinely no difference to the flow or sense of a piece. More frequently though its changes to metaphors or ideas that totally did not need the change. The one that sticks out mostly in my memory is changing my example ‘half a banana’ to ‘half a red bull.’ Why?

This, I believe, comes down to working with an editor who doesn’t have much experience developing somebody else’s voice other than their own. They might have done plenty of writing, but editing truly is a different skill set. This means that they read while subconsciously overlaying their own style and making changes through that personal lens. Unaware to them they read with a ‘how would I say this’ approach, rather than ‘is it good, does it work’ approach.

If you’re going to suggest a content change to an author, first suggest it and give them chance to address it, don’t just do it. Second, give a reason why you think it serves the point, the piece, or the platform better than what they had put.

A little suggestion

I’ll end with a little suggestion to editors: Work with your authors not just with your products.

Editing a piece for your platform while forgetting about the fingers than penned it, or the heart that sowed it, or the mind that formed it, is blatantly disrespectful. Almost all of my issues with editors have come from this sense of passive disregard that I have felt from them.

Because I’ve written professionally for paying clients I expect changes, disagreements, and critique. I want my piece to genuinely serve your readers. Working with an editor, then, should be a dialogue between two people and two audiences, not just a ‘platform’ and an ‘article.’

I know authors can be a pain too. I certainly can be. So, let’s do better together.

 

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Why it’s ok for you to start a blog, a podcast, or write a book!

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There’s been a few comments online this Summer subtly (or not so subtly) making fun of Christians all suddenly starting podcasts or writing books. Millennial Christian bashing is fun bandwagon to jump on after all, and it’s an easy group to snipe at.

And I kinda get it. There are often pride issues inherent in the idea of ‘everyone needs to hear what I’m saying!’ It’s also natural for us to kick out at the latest hipster trends, pushing against the consumeristic habits of seeking style over substance. Sure.

But.

I started blogging in Bible College. Not to tell everyone what I think, but to enter a broader conversation. Bible College felt like a very isolated echo chamber, and for a lot of reasons I struggled to fit in to that culture. Blogging gave me a chance to interact with a much wider student body and feel far less isolated. It was an absolute lifeline for me!

I carried on blogging as a personal archive of talks and ideas; something I could search later and use in my work. Finally blogging allowed me to occasionally give back to others. It’s online space, but its been a really important tool to help me connect with peers.

We’re made to talk

Humans were designed by God uniquely for a high degree of interaction, sharing, presence, exchanging, conferring, and conversing. We’re made, as the saying goes, for relationship. Talking is a massive part of that dance.

I know there is a vast landscape of diverse opinions, and conventional wisdom says ‘no more, we’re full’ but why? The Holy Spirit is always there to help us navigate, and our own growing sense of critical thinking was given to us to this end too. Then there’s friends, family, pastors – all given to help us grow and make good consumption and interaction choices. I think God wants us to make good choices as growing spiritual and relational beings, rather than limit those choices before we could make them.

Iron sharpens iron, and my blog has helped me connect with others, grow my ideas, refine my thinking, and feel much less isolated. I have always felt like I received more from my blog than it gave.

One of the reasons people discourage new podcasts and the like is that there are already plenty of good ones out there. And that’s true! You should tune in and interact with them too. But they all began somewhere, and none of them is the perfect, one-stop podcast. Maybe you have something to add to the conversation that no one else does, or a perspective to bring that is currently underrepresented.

The media ‘elite’

It bugs me a little more then, when some of the people vocally criticising or snidely ridiculing this wave of new podcasts and writing are in the ‘professional’ Christian media. What should separate the media ‘elite’ from amateur blogs and podcasts is a deeper sense of journalistic integrity, skills, and resources. It should never be that they are the de facto, or solo, voices of opinion.

Aaron Sorkin paraphrasing Pericles said, “all good things flow into the boulevard”. It’s not the job of the ‘elite’ or the ‘professional’ to police that flow, but to produce what they do at the highest possible quality. This helps the growing sea of voices naturally regulate against a set standard.

Christian media should welcome more voices and dialogue, not subtly try to oppress, discourage, or censor them. They don’t have to lend their platform, but they should encourage more participation within the boulevard.

In the meantime, start your blog, your podcast, your channel, or your first chapter. Have a go, join the conversation, be generous with your space, teachable in your opinions, discerning in your content, and loving in your tone.

Like in anything else, love people, love Jesus, and don’t be a jerk.

All the best!

 

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It’s not ok: A story of institutional bullying in church

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This is not a topic I usually address publicly, and rarely privately either – at least not in detail. However, many recent posts on institutional bullying in the church has made me want to say something about my own story.

My wife and I have been on the receiving end of institutional bullying inside the Church of England. This was over a decade ago. It’s a situation that I still haven’t much clear language for, and – if I’m honest – I still don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about it. Mostly today, I just don’t think about it. I don’t ‘remember’ these events, I ‘relive’ them which is, frankly, traumatic, so I’d rather not give them space. On the rare occasions that I give them mental room, I have a complicated mix of deep rage, shame, fear, and humiliation. Writing this post has been horrible.

I have had some professional counselling and spoken at length with a very small group of friends and family. This is not something I want to spill over into my online spaces, so it’s not something I write about.

I will say that the situation lasted across four years while employed by a church, which coincided with our first four years of marriage. It gave us a very difficult start to our life together as a couple.

Also, it was not all done with malicious intent. Some of it was purely misguided good-intentions or critique that was executed badly. The unfortunate thing is that the inexpert, mixed with the uncaring, mixed with the obtuse, mixed the truly venomous all compounded into one abusive whole. As these things were never addressed adequately by the leadership, they all morphed into one experience. We just didn’t have the proper care, protection, or resolution from those entrusted to look after us professionally and pastorally.

The impact almost resulted in me leaving ministry completely and it has – for both my wife and I – permanently damaged our trust in churches. At the end of those years, I was receiving medical treatment for stress and was advised to quit – which I did. I was also advised to seek legal action – which I didn’t.

What did it look like?

This kind of abuse comes with two voices: the loud, aggressive, obnoxious – and the continual, silent, manipulative. It’s the tandem of these two that makes it all-pervasive, and that keeps you in a constant state of adrenalin-soaked high alert. This state of being is very bad for a body, and by the end of four years I wasn’t sleeping, had lost significant amounts of weight, and had a constant tension headache at the base of my skull. I also had very uncomfortable Pavlovian-like responses to internet and phone tones; which is one of the reasons I rarely turn my phone off vibrate, and why all notifications are turned off on my laptop – nearly fifteen years later.

I’m only going to give one example story from those four years.

I was a full-time Youth and Children’s Minister and had run my first large holiday club. It was very difficult, and I was coming up against a lot of big personalities with strong opinions about how it should be done – and of course, how it had ‘always been done before’. However, after pushing through, we had a very successful week-long event. I was exhausted but, on the whole, very pleased.

Two of these strong personalities, who had senior voluntary positions in the church, had been making my life particularly difficult. Some of this was overt – aggressively challenging me in meetings, through rash phone calls, or long emails. A lot of it, however, was covert – gossiping with other team members, whispering with a small group of peers, passing notes and emails, and lobbying the church leaders behind my back.

After the week, these two leaders took it upon themselves to conduct a ‘detailed review’ of how the event had gone. Without telling me, they circulated a questionnaire to the entire group of volunteers (about forty people). They then compiled the results of that questionnaire into a summary document, and circulated this document back to the team, the church wardens, the Sunday School leaders, the PCC, and the vicars. Everybody but myself – I had no idea that any of this was happening.

The document that was circulated began with three or four very small bullet points headed ‘what had gone well.’ That whole section was less than fifty words. The rest was several double-sided pages of long paragraphs personally attacking and berating me. My character, abilities, leadership, age, personality, and suitability were all held up to the spotlight along with every mistake they had perceived I’d made. Page and pages of it – in great detail. It was all written in the same language and had clearly come from the same source.

I first heard of this document a week or so after it had been distributed. A young teenager who was a helper for the week had received a copy. They were very distressed, told me they didn’t agree with any of it, that their feedback wasn’t included, and said that they never wanted to help in church again.

At this I approached the two vicars so we could talk about it.

It transpired that what had actually happened was the feedback forms were collected but then discarded. They were used as a ruse. We were able to get hold of several of the original questionnaires, which showed that the feedback – which was largely very positive – was ignored almost completely. Instead, the circulated summary was a complete fabrication; an amplified collection of opinions from just the two people who organised the review. They used it as a platform to share their personal – and very negative – opinions of me.

So, having evidence that these two team members had gone way beyond their remits, organised a private review, ignored and doctored the feedback, and circulated a very personal and detailed attack – in secret – what do you think happened?

Nothing happened. I had two meetings with the vicars to discuss what, if any truth, was in the summary where I was made to feel two inches tall. Then I was told it would be “handled”. Nothing was handled. There was no addressing, no corrections, no repercussions, nothing. It just hung over, and they had gotten away with it.

This set the tone for these things to keep happening. Which they did, until I eventually quit.

It’s not ok

This is simply not ok. Leadership structures exist for a reason. Accountability exists for a reason.

I’ve been involved in church leadership now my whole adult life. When I used to look back on this, I thought it must have been my fault. It must have been me. My lack of experience, my inability, my soft nature. But I know better now (at least I think I do). I was twenty-one when that happened – just a kid. I couldn’t compute what was happening to me.

But it was abusive, it was bullying, and it was not ok.

I’m angry at the people who did that – and the people who did other things too over those four years – but mostly I just feel deeply let down by the leadership that was put in place to protect me which just didn’t. I think I have forgiven people, but if I’m honest I don’t know. I’m not sure what that should feel like, and it’s so mixed up and messy. I understand in abstract how these things should work technically. I know the right answers if someone was to come to me looking for advice for instance. But it actually happened, and the memories of it are like clanging cymbals.

I’m grateful today to have good friends, good churches, a good pastor, and a really good marriage. I’m blessed to still be in ministry, and I’m incredibly grateful that God’s grace is all-sufficient for all my needs. That said, I spend an inordinate amount of time pretending to myself all that stuff in my first four years of ministry didn’t happen. My memory lane skips right from Bible College straight to where I am now. I like to think I’m all better, that I’m not wounded, that all that has scarred over, and that time heals all, but it’s not there yet.

I’m a white bloke, a trained church leader, and I’m still in ministry. Conventional wisdom says I’m not supposed to be a victim of this kind of abuse, but this stuff – and a lot more besides – really did happen. And that’s just not ok.

 

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