Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Drama · #2362938

When leaders fail there is always the man in the gap.

When Peter finally stepped aside after more than twenty years, everyone knew it was the right decision.

He had founded the English-speaking congregation, gathering together expatriates, academics, businessmen, old soldiers and wandering Christians who needed somewhere to worship in their own language. For two decades he had been the public face of the church. People trusted him.

John had his own status in the 'real world' as a CEO. His job was demanding and so was his homelife but he thought he had time for this also. John inherited something precious. He also inherited something fragile. Officially he was now the leader.

Churches require microphones, projectors, service sheets, coffee, livestreams, electrical cables, chairs, insurance forms, online recordings, budgets and somebody who remembered where every extension lead had disappeared to. That somebody was Jim.

Jim had never wanted to lead. His father had been a CEO. A natural delegator. Jim admired his father enormously but had never inherited that gift. If something needed doing, Jim wanted to understand it completely. He wanted to know how every system worked, how every cable connected, why every process failed. That was why he became good with computers. It was also why he became indispensable in the church.

Every Sunday morning he arrived before everyone else. Heating. Lighting. Sound desk. Video. Recording. Coffee. Order of service. Printing.

Then after church...Washing up. Packing away. Uploading sermons. Switching everything off.

People often thanked the new leader, John. Few noticed Jim quietly locking the doors. He preferred it that way.

The handover should have been simple. Instead, it happened precisely when John's life began to unravel. His teenage daughters were both struggling. One had stopped coming to church altogether and declared herself an atheist. The other had the kind of mental breakdown that seems like a rite of passage in young women today.

Their questions to their father weren't hostile. They were heartbreaking. Why does God allow suffering? Why do Christians behave like this? How do you know any of it is true? John found himself spending evenings not preparing sermons but sitting on bedroom floors talking through tears and doubt. Like countless fathers before he had answers but learning to communicate these to a whole new generation was the real challenge. Jim tried to help John but his own daughter seemed to be going through the same kind of crisis following her mother leaving and divorcing her father. Jim knew she was upset but was clueless on how to reach her. He felt ill equipped to provide answers that would work for her.

Then there was John's health. His job took him all over Europe. His job demanded airports, boardrooms and hotels. He was still leading the church.
Only now he was leading it from trains, airport lounges and late-night telephone calls.

Jim watched his friends health fall apart. John put on weight, too much sitting around in conference rooms. Jim tried to tell him about fasting and exercise, the things that worked for him but it seemed that John was not ready to hear this. Jim had to pick up the slack. He never complained.
It just seemed the right thing to do.

Then came the printing crisis. Nobody remembered exactly how it started. Peter wanted the service sheets laid out exactly as they had always been. John wanted something simpler, something more practical.

Peter kept making corrections. John became increasingly irritated.

"I thought you handed this over to me." John complained.

"I did."

"So why am I still being corrected?"

"Because you're changing things that don't need changing." Peter replied indignant and red faced.

"They're improvements."

"They're unnecessary."

The discussion became louder. Then personal. Jim stood in the middle wishing he were somewhere else. Anywhere else. He hated conflict in the church. Not because he feared arguments. He was perfectly capable of winning arguments. That was the problem. He knew from painful experience that winning an argument often meant losing the relationship. Diplomacy had never been his strength.

He did not want to break the church he had given so many years to.

For two days he thought about the problem. Not the personalities. The process. That was how his mind worked. Eventually he invited both Peter and John for coffee. He arrived carrying a folder. "I've mapped the workflow."

Both men looked puzzled. "The workflow?" Peter asked.

Jim nodded. "Peter, you've identified genuine improvements."

Peter folded his arms. "I have."

"John, you're right that constant interruption makes delegation impossible."

John nodded.

"So here's what happens."

He slid a sheet of paper across the table. "I'll take responsibility."

Peter frowned.

Jim continued. "I'll produce the service sheets."

Peter opened his mouth.

Jim raised one enormous hand. "Please let me finish."

Neither interrupted.

"You don't get to tell me how to produce them." He looked at Peter directly and spoke in such a tone that it was clear not even Peter could contradict him on this matter.

Silence.

"If there are problems with the final result, write them down." He placed a blank sheet beside Peter. "I'll incorporate anything that genuinely improves the finished product. You are never to discuss printing with John again."

John smiled. Peter still looked uncertain.

Jim continued quietly. "I'm not refusing criticism." He looked directly at Peter. "I'm refusing continual interference."

The older man stared at him for several long seconds. Then, unexpectedly... He laughed. "Fair enough."

The argument was over.

John later admitted that he had been close to resigning over something as absurd as printing. Instead...Peace returned.

The peace lasted barely three weeks. The crisis now came from outside. The German church authorities announced another round of cost reductions. Congregations would be merged. Budgets reviewed. They asked what was the value of an English speaking congregation.

Someone in the administration looked at attendance figures without understanding the finances. Thirty people in an average service. Small congregation. An unnecessary cost for musicians and utilities. They did not understand that the English congregation paid its own way, brought new people into the church. Exactly the kind of people the German church was failing, immigrants from all over the world.

Jim gave generously. Others did too. Their ministry cost the wider church nothing. Facts, however, travelled more slowly than rumors. Suddenly there were interminable meetings. Most had a secular feel to them as if the church was just another business, just another bureaucracy. Sometimes the Germans did not even pray before a meeting.

There was a constant barrage of verbose reports. Committees blowing hot air without commitments to action. Round and round.

John should have been there, his German was good enough. Instead he was sitting beside a daughter who no longer knew whether she believed in God or another who was falling apart at the seams. Jim handled the meetings, sitting there in stony silence, listening for the action points.

When questions came, he replied. When forms appeared, he completed them. When misunderstandings arose, he explained. He never claimed authority he did not possess. Whenever someone asked for a decision he answered simply, "I'll speak to John."

Sometimes John replied within minutes. Sometimes after several days.

Jim waited. Leadership belonged to John. Supporting leadership belonged to him. There was an important difference.

Not everyone appreciated it. Several people suggested that Jim should simply become leader.

He always refused.

"You already do everything." They said.

"No."

"You practically run the church."

"No."

"So why not?"

Jim smiled. "Running things isn't leading."

People assumed he lacked confidence. They misunderstood. He knew exactly why he should never lead. He could explain theology. He could solve technical problems. He could untangle bureaucracy. He could preach. He could even calm Peter. But he did not naturally draw people together. His marriage was a ruin and his daughter was not talking with him. He knew that he was failing to connect to the emotions of others, to the aimless wanderings of a culture he regarded as lost in the dark. That was John's job and he was not here.

Jim knew people often mistook his directness for arrogance. In fact he simply knew his stuff, was sure of his calling lacking the doubt and darkness that others seemed determined to wallow in.

A church deserved someone who could show Christ's love for people. John and indeed Peter possessed that gift. They connected and they warmed hearts. Jim did not. Knowing your limits was as important as knowing your strengths.

Then there was Geoff. Geoff had built companies. Accumulated millions. Led thousands. Now he sometimes forgot what day it was. He repeated stories. Forgot names. Complained about children who only wanted his money. Lost track halfway through conversations.

Others found him exhausting. Jim saw something different. He saw his father. Strong once. Ageing now. Still worthy of dignity.

Every coffee hour Jim made time for Geoff. Not because Geoff needed entertaining. Because everyone else needed space. Geoff could dominate a room without noticing, even in this diminished state. He also knew his mind was slipping away and it frightened him.

Jim absorbed that broken energy. They discussed business. Politics. Old engineering projects. Scripture. Sometimes the same conversation three Sundays in a row. Jim never minded.

One day Geoff stopped speaking halfway through a story. He looked confused. "I think I've already told you this."

Jim smiled. "You have."

Geoff looked embarrassed. "I'm getting old."

"We all are."

Geoff laughed. "Not as quickly as me."

"No," Jim agreed quietly. "Not yet."

The church survived another year. Then another. Slowly, almost unnoticed, new faces appeared. People invited friends. Visitors stayed. The congregation grew not dramatically but steadily. The atmosphere changed. There was laughter after services again. Noise. Life.

John's daughters slowly found their way through their questions. Not by having every answer. By discovering that God was big enough to hug them tightly through whatever crisis. John's family returned to worship, though Jim's were still not restored.

John's health improved. Travel reduced. He became more present. For the first time in years he had space to think beyond the next family emergency.

Jim felt something he had not experienced for a long time. Relief. He had never wanted the responsibility, but he was the man in the gap nonetheless.. He had simply accepted that because somebody had to. Because Geoff needed someone. Because Peter deserved respect. Because John needed breathing room. Because the church mattered. Because God had placed him there. Not where he would have chosen. Where he was needed.

A year later the German pastors invited John to a regional gathering. They congratulated him warmly,
"You've shown remarkable resilience. The English congregation is growing, its bringing in new members and finance to the church as a whole. You've weathered some difficult years.You've built something healthy."

John accepted the compliments on behalf of his congregation. He knew better. Afterwards he found Jim stacking chairs. "They think I did all this."

Jim shrugged.

"You carried us."

Jim shook his head. "No."

John smiled. "You won't even take credit now?"

Jim looked around the empty hall. The microphones packed away. Coffee cups washed. Projector switched off. Everything ready for next week. He thought of the years after his wife had left. His daughter leaving home. His son. The endless church problems. The bureaucracy. The late-night emails. The meetings no one remembered. The sermons. The cables. The printing. The loneliness. The prayers whispered while driving home in the dark. Only a handful of people knew the half of it. John was one of them.

"I wasn't working for an audience," he said quietly. "I was working for God, He carried me."

John said nothing but there were tears in his eyes as he looked down at the ground.. "You know my daughter is in contact with yours. They are going to another church now. Don't tell her I told you."

Jim started to cry. The world could keep its applause, this was the news he'd been praying for.

Notes ▶︎

Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.

The Faithful Steward

The Faithful Steward

When leaders fail there is always the man in the gap.