Trustworthiness

On Leadership & 2 Corinthians 13

When I was hired at the church back in 2004, the Session (that’s our funny Presbyterian word for the board of elders) asked me to submit a monthly Pastor’s Report, detailing what work I’d accomplished and how I had spent my time. It seemed like an odd request, but I complied.

Over time, I understood why. The church had suffered from pastoral misconduct. Consequently, there was little to no trust in the pastoral office. In its absence, they wanted transparency in the form of the monthly report. I didn’t take it personally. Any church would respond the same way.

Years later, at a Session meeting, the elders and I got into a conversation about the Pastor’s Report. I asked if it was sufficient, or if there might be other information they’d like to know.

“I don’t know why you even keep writing it,” one elder responded. “We trust you.”

I remembered that night recently, as I’ve been listening to a lot of talk in our little town about transparency. Some believe that it’s been lacking in our city government. Others argue that we’re doing fine. I’ll leave it to council members and the new Interim City Attorney to judge what was appropriate and when.

What’s struck me, though, is how all these calls for transparency spoke to a deeper desire for trust. There’s no question in my mind that, sadly and unintentionally, trust has been damaged. Leaders have some work to do to rebuild it.

The rebuilding of trust, though, requires a lot more than transparency. British philosopher Onora O’Neill, in her brilliant little book A Question of Trust, makes this point. Transparency, she says, is a poor substitute for trustworthiness. Sometimes, it’s the best we can do, but it’s limited and rarely suffices to rebuild trust. Besides, transparency isn’t always possible. We have employment law, HIPAA, FERPA, and all other manner of restrictions upon what we can and cannot say to protect privacy.

No, she argues, trust needs more than transparency. Trust needs trustworthiness. Broadly speaking, trust is the ability “to rely on others acting as they say that they will, and... to accept that we will act as we say we will.” Trustworthiness is the habit of deserving such trust.

We rebuild trust, over time, as we show up and do what we say we’re going to do. In this way, over time, we show ourselves to be trustworthy, and trust grows again. Simple, right?

Not really. The human capacity for self-delusion is infinite. Ask anyone, “Are you trustworthy?” and I have a hunch that 99%--maybe 100%--will say yes.

The decision to be trustworthy requires a whole lot of honest self-examination and occasionally some help from friends.

When the apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthian church, he wrote to people who had not been trustworthy. They’d fought. They’d followed false leaders. They’d sued one another in public courts of law. They’re hired prostitutes. One guy was even sleeping with his stepmother. They had not been doing what they said they were going to do when they gave their lives to Christ. They had not lived up to their baptismal vows.

Of course, Paul scolded them for it. “Scold” is an understatement. He ranted and railed and called them to account. Even still, he knew he couldn’t always be there to watch over them. His solution? Self-examination.

Here are his instructions from 2 Corinthians 5:

Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you?—unless indeed you fail to meet the test! (2 Corinthians 13:5)

He’s hoping they’ll do the work themselves, prove themselves trustworthy, and follow Christ. He doesn’t want to have to hold them accountable himself.

What’s true for followers of Jesus is true for anyone who wants to have and keep the trust of others. It’s especially true for us leaders.

We’ve got to take a sober look at our commitments, spoken and unspoken. Have I told the truth? Have I broken a promise? Have I helped someone else break a promise? Have I kept my vow? Have I kept my oath? Have I fulfilled my job description? Have I followed through on commitments? Have I obeyed the law? Have I said what I said I was going to do? Have I shown up when I said I was going to show up?

If I haven’t, it’s on me to self-correct, because sometimes sooner, sometimes later, the rest of the world notices. And, if the answer to these questions is a consistent, “No,” the trust we’ve taken years to gain will slip through our hands faster than sand.

That’s why, even after my conversation with the Session all those years ago, I kept writing the monthly Pastor’s Report. It’s habit now, but the practice also helps me keep myself accountable. Have I been doing the visits? Meeting the people? Making the changes? Doing the work? Have I been trustworthy?

The answer, sometimes, is no. I fail sometimes. Marvelous people show up in my office to point out when I’m failing. It’s not fun in the moment of accountability. In fact, it’s rather excruciating, when all I want to do is deflect and defend. Still, I could not be more thankful for these beloved friends’ candor and care.

Transparency is fine when it’s possible and appropriate, but it’s a poor substitute for this hard, good work of proving ourselves trustworthy–as friends, as neighbors and, yes, as leaders, in our city and beyond.

I’m hopeful for us all.