You might be thinking that your friendships are different. They really are authentic and life-long. Maybe. And if so, that’s awesome. But try this. As much as you’re enjoying the relationship (as they likely are), do something associated with your position they don’t like and see what happens.

Over the last year and a bit, I’ve talked to so many leaders who are distraught over how many friends—often people they thought of as close friends—have left their church. And when they left, they also ended the friendship.

Friends they’ve worked with or served with end up no longer being friends—quitting the church, leaving staff, or even walking out for good over a disagreement.

Leaders have struggled with the problem for years. Pastors, even more so.

No surprise, but this phenomenon intensified over the last two years as COVID isolated people and culture became more divided on almost every issue.

First of all, I empathize. It’s happened to me too. It hurts, sometimes at the soul level. And friendships—being the unique relationships they are—once built are often difficult to replace.

That said, I’ve also had decades to find a different perspective.

Ready for a contrary view?

What if they were never your friends?

I’m not trying to be mean or question your relational IQ.

I get it. You’re saying, “But we had dinner with these people. We went on vacations together. We were at each other’s houses all the time. Our kids played together. We were close.”

I realize that.

But, again, the question—what if they were never actually your friends?

I know, you’re thinking, What????But hear me out.

True friendships don’t depend on your leadership. They depend on the relationship.

And as long as you’re the leader, you’ve got a few variables in the friendship that make it hard to discern whether this is truly a friendship that will survive your leadership.

You know the stereotype of the business leader who retires and is later shocked to discover his phone never rings and everyone he used to hang out with isn’t interested in him anymore.

A similar thing happens to pastors and church leaders.

I’m going to share why that’s the case, but hang on to the end for some hope.

Understanding the unique dynamics of leadership and friendships should make pain of processing relational transitions easier, not harder.

Why It’s Weird: The Problem Is Your Power

Aside from any normal relational struggles you and I bring to life (welcome to the human race—we all do), leadership brings a strange dynamic to any friendship—power.

Even if your leadership’s approach leans egalitarian, and you see yourself as equal to your team—not above them—the challenge remains: you hold power.

Beyond the power to hire and fire, you also hold the power to determine the mission and direction of the organization. Your words weigh more, and you have the clout that simply accompanies the position you hold, whether you feel like you do or not.

I’ve done everything I can to shake the power imbalance over several decades in leadership and use my power to benefit others. Still, the dynamic remains: As a leader, you hold power.

As a result—and here’s the dynamic—people build relationships with you for reasons other than just pure friendship.

Sometimes they’ve built a relationship with you because they want to be close to their leader, or they want some influence over the organization’s future direction. Other times, they’re just drawn to the leader’s charisma.

That’s not cynical; that’s just real. And they may not even realize they’re doing it. You likely won’t know it’s happening.

Except it is.

They’ll use the term ‘friend,’ and it will resemble a real friendship in many ways.

But it will always be influenced by the power dynamic.

Flex that power in the wrong direction, say the wrong thing, or make the wrong move (whatever that is), and the friendship strains or dissolves.

The problem when you’re friends with a leader often isn’t relational; it’s positional.

Why Pastoring Is Even Weirder: Ministry Is the Perfect Storm

I spent over two decades as a pastor in a local church. If you think leadership is weird, ministry is weirder.

Here’s why.

Ministry is the perfect storm: work, faith, and community collide.

When I was in law, those spheres of my life were more separate and clear. I worked at a law firm by day, had a church I was part of evenings and weekends and had friends from many parts of life.

When I entered full-time vocational ministry, everything melted into one.

Ministry is strange.

What you believe is also what you do. And the people you serve are also your community.

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