Serving the Church of Conservation

Another beautiful day in San Diego but I'll be inside in meetings most of the time.

Serving as executive director of a statewide association is a bit like being a pastor in a church. People come to you with a wide variety of requests. They need help. They want solace. They want to complain. They want to advance. The problems are personal, business, and everything in between. I never know what is coming when I pick up the phone.

Above all, they want to be heard by someone who understands and cares. Occasionally, they actually want actionable help, which we can provide as long as the help is within the scope of our nonprofit articles and bylaws. When it's not, I suggest other people and places they can find help.

I feel an extraordinary pressure to do right for our people. I've been in this community for more than 31 years, and although we rarely get along on everything at any given time, I know our people are driven by a set of values that is consistent throughout the organization. That makes it a little easier to look past the foibles and oddities each of us brings to the table.

As a pastor in this church of conservation, I work to keep peace in the congregation, to find solutions to problems, and occasionally, to set limits on behaviors. As the saying goes, the buck stops here. While I have a board of directors who provide governance and guidance, I know I am squarely on the point of the spear when it comes to operating the organization.

When there are failures, I own them. When there are successes, my team owns them.

As in any group, a few personalities seem to always want to dominate the conversation. I am constantly making sure our quieter folks have ways they can participate that are comfortable to them. Not everyone wishes to engage in a battle of wits in the moment. Some of us (myself included) work better when we've had time to reflect. It seems as if the loudest voices always get heard, but in this church, it's crucial to make space and time for our quiet thinkers to also be heard.

I should read a book on what it takes to succeed as a minister! With 500 people involved, there is always a little drama somewhere, and usually in multiple locations. Some days, the best I can do is to keep the lid on the boiling pot. Other days, we move the dial in a positive direction, and even incremental movement is a win.

Over the four years I've been in this role, one thing has become clear to me: this is a lonely spot to be in. Very few people think about the toll on the person who is serving in a CEO-type role. There is no peer group within the organization to provide support. One is either serving someone, or servant to someone. This is the only position in our organization that exists on a knife edge.

This trip to San Diego gives me room to reflect on these thoughts. I get to see my counterparts from other states and renew relationships, some of which have been in place for decades. While I rarely talk about this "church of conservation" perspective, I sense that my peers across the country tend to feel much like I do on the challenges such a position entails.

Even while I'm taking long walks along the waterfront, I'm thinking about my congregation of unique and highly-capable individuals. I am blessed to have some great, positive achievers. I'm just as blessed to have some loud naysayers. As Mom sometimes said to me as a child, "it takes all kinds, and we've got 'em." Adding to Mom's thought, we are enriched by the differences in thinking and experiences of our members.