A popular Metroplex minister’s rant about an anonymous note he got has become infamous. One professor at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary has pointed to it as a model of how to deal with such critics. The preacher leads into it with these words about the challenging life of a pastor:
“The Shepherd rarely gets to play in the middle of all the healthy sheep when they’re having a bar-b-que and playing a volleyball game. He’s on the fringes where the wolves and the sheep with rabies are. So a great deal of my week is spent walking through the tragedies, heartaches, and sins of other men and women.”
I’ve been to a lot of bar-b-ques and volleyball games as a minister, but I digress. The big problem is that he has to deal with “sniper shots from those who disagree.” Specifically, he mentions: “I got this real hateful little spiteful email this week.”
Then in a voice that builds to Driscollesque screaming (because screaming carries more pastoral authority), he says:
“We have not created a system here that hides from you. We’ll receive any bit of rebuke and any bit of critique. But you sign your name when you send stuff in, you immature, weak little cowards! You sign your name, you silly, pathetic little boy! You don’t take jabs behind an alias. Who does that? So in any realm we’re not above reproach. In any realm you can question, you can come in and have your questions an——Don’t take jabs at us behind some alias where you sit in the crowd and do nothing, you narcissistic zero! Sign your name!”
I get it. Anonymous notes are frustrating. I remember as a young minister that I took a good bit of pride in refusing to read anything that wasn’t signed.
And then, one year, I decided to get well. I decided to deal with my anger.
A spiritual guide told me that my attitude toward anonymous notes was problematic. Those notes said less about the people sending them than they said about me. Why did people feel like they couldn’t sign their name? Why did they think I wasn’t approachable? How had I sent signals that it wasn’t safe to come to me (despite what I might have said)?
Oh, sure. It probably feels good to scream. And all the other angry young guys will high five and give an “attaboy.”
But I think the old schoolground taunt may be right: “What you say is what you are!”
In my own life, if there was an immature, weak little coward, it was me. I wasn’t brave enough to hold onto myself emotionally and spiritually to have respectful conversations with critics. If there was a silly, pathetic little boy, that was me, too. Too pathetic to grow up and handle conflict like an adult.
It’s more fun ministering after getting well. No ranting is necessary. No cheap shots. While I don’t welcome anonymous notes, I now read them carefully and prayerfully, looking for insight and wondering if I’m still sending signals that I’m not safe.
The truth, however, is that as I’ve learned to welcome criticism, the anonymous notes have pretty much stopped.