Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem days before his death is recorded in the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew 21:6-10; Mark 11:6-11; Luke 19:34-44). All three provide details about Jesus’ story from the palms waving and cloaks on the ground to shouts of “Hosanna!” Often, we think of the crowd of the Palm Sunday sermon and the crowd in the Easter Sunday sermon as one and the same. While it makes for good preaching, synthesizing both crowds as one that turned its back on Jesus when he needed them the most, there is no empirical data for this. In our minds, our hermeneutics, and our beliefs, the same people who said “Hosanna!” also said “Crucify him!” Based on Jesus’ experience that week though, it didn’t matter. Whether it was the same people was not as important as the narrative in the community. It was their narrative. Whether it was one crowd, two combined, or even a whole new crowd, the gathered community was telling Jesus the current narrative about him.
I quickly learned I could not chase down rumors and lies about me and New Life Church. The old saying is true: a lie can circle the globe twice before the truth gets out of bed. Who said what is of no value in the investigation, but the narrative in the community is what matters the most. It was not the mere three words “Hosanna!” and “Crucify him” that killed Jesus. It was the narrative in the streets that killed Jesus.
Then the chief priests and the Pharisees called a meeting of the Sanhedrin. “What are we accomplishing?” they asked. “Here is this man performing many signs.” . . . “You do not realize that it is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish.” (John 11:47, 50)
The narrative in the streets is what spurred the chief priest and Pharisees into action to kill Jesus. The narrative in the community will either grow or kill a church or organization. While ministry should not be orchestrated to the tunes of the narratives on the streets, ignoring them is not wise either. I learned the narrative about New Life Church was changing.
WORD ON THE STREET
Jesus had two years of popularity from the moment he turned water into wine to healing the man at the pool of Bethesda, then a year of opposition. Interestingly, in the latter year of opposition, Jesus was interested in the word on the street about him. Jesus wanted to know the narrative in the community. “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” (Matthew 16:13). Whether it is Jesus’ humanity asking the question or his divinity leaving breadcrumbs for us to learn from, the curiosity of what people are saying about you is a lesson God wants us to learn from.
The answer was quick in coming. Peter spoke up with authority, as usual, and was right and wrong within minutes. There will always be something said about you as a leader in the public forum. As with Jesus, it will be a mixture of truth and falsehood, but in both cases, Jesus was not swayed by public opinion. He easily put the accolades of men behind him. Even at the point of death in his dialogue with Pilate, Jesus is not moved by the people’s characterization of who he is and what he has done. Apart from the prophetic reality of the moment, this exchange could have saved Jesus if he was moved by the narrative of people, even powerful people like Pilate. But he wasn’t (John 18:33-38, 40).
New Life Church faced a similar narrative. The word on the street shifted from the moment I told the church the bank pulled out on us and then asked for $1,000 per family. That was a costly decision, though it was the right financial decision, because our balance sheet improved, but it hurt our narrative on the street. Choices in ministry are not always good, better, and best. Sometimes they are bad and worst. New Life was twelve years old when our years of popularity began to wane. The word on the street had begun to show signs of negativity two years before when key staff members resigned. The bank pullout was like the little boy who had his finger in the levee and then pulled it out and all the water flooded the village. It didn’t matter whether it was “Hosanna!” or “Crucify him!” or who was saying it. The shift was happening, and the storm was raging.
The narrative change can feel like being seasick. My first bout with seasickness was when I was at my first base as a chaplain. I decided to take the men’s ministry on a deep-sea fishing trip. I had never been on a rowboat let alone out in the middle of the ocean in a fishing boat. The idea was to get the men interested in the chapel service. It wasn’t long into the trip before I was so sick that I pleaded with Jesus to stop my swimming head, promising he would never have to hear this prayer again if he would just get me to the shore. The narrative on the street was a similar experience for me.
LEADERSHIP PRINCIPLES
One of the leadership principles that best illuminates the leader’s approach to the shifting storm winds of the community is a behavioral approach. This approach focuses in on the behavior or how the leader navigates public criticism. How does he or she show up when all eyes are on the triumphant entry of the church or organization? How about when those eyes turn from approval to disapproval? The behavioral response of the leader becomes paramount. The leader is in a petri dish and under the microscope at the same time. The leader’s behavior must include successfully managing relationships of the community stakeholders, church stakeholders, and church or organization members. Responding to every criticism can cause more problems than it solves.[1]
Church and community stakeholders are critical to carrying out the vision and mission of the church, but pursuing negativity only breeds more and keeps your mind on the negative and not faith. Faith comes by hearing God’s Word reverberate in your spirit. Standing firm in the face of an onslaught of criticism is a virtue that can help turn the tide to truth, sometimes without ever saying a word. Managing one’s criticism is a behavior followers look for and follow. Jesus is the prime example.
[1] Peter G. Northouse, Leadership: Theory and Practice, 7th ed. (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2016), 78-79.
