One of the hallmarks of corporate style leadership is the ability to take a question, and then use so many words you forgot what the actual question was. Yet, enough was said in that period of time it is assumed that the question was actually answered. When in fact nothing substantial was actually said, but the person answering feels they did so. Sure this is fine in the business world where shareholders need assurances (even though they can see right through it). But what happens when it happens in the Church?
Good Spiritual leadership requires more than just love for Christ and good intentions. I heard that phrase this morning as I listened to Jeffrey Rickman on his PlainSpoken livestream talk about the issues that led to the separation of the UMC, and not wishing to repeat those mistakes in the GMC. While I don’t always agree with Jeffrey on everything, I will always applaud and appreciate his goal of having plain conversation with people, especially those who are in positions of leadership.
In my own world of the Free Methodist Church we have a lot of potential changes on the horizon. Denominational restructuring, merging of conferences, job description changes and the ever growing pressure that people feel we need to change. The desire for change is not unfounded. We live in a very hard time for denominations. At least at this current moment they still seem unpopular, with loose networks of churches and independent church bodies seeming to be the thing in vogue, there is an inherent feeling that we need to adapt, and I don’t think that is totally wrong. The issue comes when we don’t know who we are, and the changes happen in obscurity and there is almost no clarity.
The first issue at hand is we don’t know who we are. If I decided I wanted to renovate my house, but I had no end design in mind and go at the project hoping for something to work out in the end. I would not call that vision. I would call that demolition.
And that is precisely the danger before us. You can tear down walls, move things around, and make constant adjustments, but without a clear telos—without a defined understanding of what the house is supposed to be, you will eventually create something unlivable. It may be new. It may even look impressive for a moment. But it will not be coherent, and it certainly will not be stable.
The same is true for the Church. If we do not have a clear theological, ecclesiological, and sacramental identity, then every proposed “change” becomes reactive rather than purposeful. We start responding to pressures instead of being guided by convictions. And when that happens, leadership begins to rely on language that sounds meaningful but avoids saying anything concrete, because clarity would require commitment.
And commitment, in a moment like ours, feels costly.
But clarity is not only needed in what we say, it is needed in how we develop what we say. One of the deeper issues we face is not just unclear outcomes, but unclear processes. Decisions appear to be formed somewhere “upstream,” and by the time they reach the broader body, they are presented as nearly finished products. At that point, feedback is not truly formative; it is cosmetic.
That is not how a healthy church discerns.
Development takes time. It requires patience. It requires creating real space for pastors and laity to wrestle with ideas, to ask hard questions, and yes, even to disagree. If we rush that process in the name of efficiency, what we gain in speed we lose in trust. And once trust is eroded, no amount of polished language can restore it.
This is where our gatherings, especially our annual and general conferences must be reexamined. Too often they function as inspirational talking sessions, where vision is cast in broad terms, testimonies are shared, and energy is generated. There is certainly a place for that. But if that is all they are, then we have misunderstood their purpose.
Conference should be, in part, an open mic. Not in the sense of disorder or endless debate, but in the sense that there is real, structured opportunity for the body to speak. For questions to be asked plainly. For concerns to be voiced without fear of being dismissed. For leaders not only to present, but to listen and to do so in real time, not through filtered summaries after the fact.
Because if we cannot speak honestly in our own councils, where can we? This kind of openness will slow things down. It will feel messier. It will expose disagreements that are easier to ignore. But it is also how clarity is formed, not imposed, but discerned together under the authority of Christ.
And that is the key distinction. The Church is not a corporation optimizing for efficiency. She is a body seeking faithfulness. Those are not the same thing.
There is another issue that must be named plainly: the increasing reliance on what can only be called “word salad.” By this I mean language that sounds important, full of talking points and polished documents but ultimately says very little. Phrases like “strategic alignment,” “adaptive vision,” and “contextual responsiveness” are repeated until they feel substantive, even when they avoid concrete meaning.
These documents, talks and podcasts are carefully constructed, yet when you ask, “What is actually being proposed?” or “What does this mean for the life of the Church?” the answer is often unclear. And that is the problem.
Word salad does not create unity; it obscures reality. It allows people to nod along because nothing is actually being committed to. It gives leaders cover, but it gives the Church no direction. When clarity finally becomes unavoidable, the underlying disagreements surface with greater force because they were never addressed honestly.
This is not a call for oversimplification. The Church’s work is complex, and careful language matters. But there is a difference between care and evasion. One seeks to illuminate; the other seeks to protect. If a proposal cannot be explained plainly, it is not ready. If a document cannot be understood by those it affects, it has failed its purpose.
Plain speech is not a lack of intelligence. It is a sign of integrity. In a moment where trust is fragile and clarity is desperately needed, the Church cannot afford to communicate in ways that obscure more than they reveal.
So what does it look like to move forward rightly?
It begins with naming things honestly. Who are we as Free Methodists? Not in vague aspirational language, but in concrete theological terms. What do we believe about the Church? About the sacraments? About authority? About holiness? About connectionalism? These are not secondary questions. They are the foundation upon which every structural decision must rest.
From there, we must commit to a process that reflects those convictions. One that allows time for development. One that invites participation rather than managing perception. One that treats clarity not as a threat, but as a gift.
And alongside clarity must come transparency. If changes are necessary, and some likely are then they must be communicated in a way that is direct, accessible, and rooted in shared conviction. Not every detail needs to be broadcast at all times, but the direction, the reasoning, and the theological grounding should never be hidden behind layers of institutional language.
The Church does not need more carefully worded ambiguity. She needs shepherds who are willing to say, “This is who we are, this is where we are going, and this is why.” And just as importantly, shepherds who are willing to say, “Speak, we are listening.”
That kind of leadership will not always be comfortable. It will not always be widely applauded. But it will be faithful. And in the end, faithfulness, not cleverness, not adaptability for its own sake, not institutional survival is the measure by which spiritual leadership is judged.
Why do I say all of this?
Because I love being in the Free Methodist Church. As someone who did not grow up in the denomination, I have grown to deeply love the calling and mission that the FMC historically has had, and I believe God is not done with the FMC. I want to see us be a thriving denomination that is surely grounded in our theological inheritance of Wesley, and confident we are faithfully proclaiming the Gospel. I would like to one day retire in the FMC. But all of this will only happen if we are clear and concise. If we remain faithful as members of the Body of Christ…the Church