Photo by Mike Morones

January 4, 2010 | It’s not quite 10 a.m., and the Rev. Wilson Gunn, the general presbyter at the National Capital Presbytery, has already had to issue a warning once today.

In this case, he had to email a retired pastor who apparently still was officiating funerals at his former church, in violation of the rules.

“I’m sending an email saying, ‘Please come to my office and explain to me why you’re doing that,’” said Gunn, who oversees 108 churches in Washington, D.C., northern Virginia and part of Maryland.

On good days, Gunn helps new churches define their missions and older churches refine theirs, ushers pastors into welcoming congregations and explores with colleagues the future role of the Presbyterian Church as the world around it evolves.

On rougher days, he referees conflicts between pastors and their congregations, addresses ethical violations and even tackles sexual misconduct cases, all of which have earned Gunn a reputation for being able to face the most unpleasant tasks with courage, grace and a sense of humor.

“There are days when you have to go up to somebody who’s given a lot of years and say, ‘You know, you are not cut out for pastoral service.’ It’s no fun -- ever,” said Gunn, the general presbyter for almost six years. “But some of us remember the pastoral office is rod and staff. The rod is to pull the sheep into line, and the staff is to ward off the wolves. The 23rd Psalm didn’t use the Care Bear motif.”

‘Thrown into the fire’

Gunn, a father of four who enjoys sailing and playing the string bass, pastored churches in North Carolina and Virginia for 20 years before becoming an associate executive at Grace Presbytery in Texas, where he oversaw church development. He jokes that the position kept him popular because he helped hand out money.

From there, he came to National Capital Presbytery, where some of his earliest tasks were less enjoyable. In his first three years at the helm, he handled five sexual misconduct cases, including one that was on his desk the day he arrived. This has resulted in an unintended expertise in such matters.

He’s certainly not the first church official to deal with that sort of thing, said the Rev. Betty Meadows, president of the Association of Executive Presbyters and Gunn’s counterpart at the Mid-Kentucky Presbytery. But most executives have some time to settle into the job first, she said.

“There was no honeymoon period where you get to know the pastors, get to know the churches, your committees. No -- bang, bang -- you’ve got to hit the ground running,” she said of Gunn. “He was thrown into the fire at the beginning. He was juggling, ‘Which situation do I do first?’ He not only survived it, but gained a lot of respect from it.”

Two of the complaints Gunn handled were found to be without merit; three others resulted in pastors being excluded for three years from the presbytery, after which they could apply for reinstatement. None of the cases involved criminal behavior.

Handling ethical violations of that nature takes up an inordinate amount of time and energy, Gunn said. The presbytery hasn’t received a sexual misconduct complaint in two years, he added.

“I hope that day is done,” he said.

The gentle art of nudging

Gunn credits having a great mentor with some of his success clearing those early hurdles. In Texas, he worked under the Rev. Dave Wasserman, now the interim executive presbyter at the Presbytery of Grand Canyon in Arizona.

Among other lessons, Wasserman reminded Gunn that speaking the truth in love often takes considerable courage. That advice was especially helpful in the beginning, Gunn said, when he struggled to be assertive with his staff. Gunn encourages incoming executives and even pastors to line up their own mentors and support groups.

If a complaint about sexual misconduct or financial malfeasance comes in, Gunn is quick to wade in. But when it comes to other issues, he said, sometimes it’s best to offer advice and let the other parties work out the problem on their own. Wasserman agrees, offering a “Thelma and Louise” analogy.

“I don’t think any of us wants to let anyone else jump off a cliff,” Wasserman said, referring to the film’s climactic final scene. “But up to that point, I want to give a lot of room. If you step in, you may end up rescuing and you may not teach the system something it needs to learn. Sometimes, failure is a great teacher and if you intervene and prevent that from being visible, you’re not serving the system well.”

Put another way, Wasserman said, institutions are like ocean liners and good leaders are the tugboats. Tugboats don’t pull great ships out of port. They bump up against them, nudging them in the right direction. Once the ship is sailing correctly, it moves with a momentum all its own, Wasserman said. Over time, good leaders learn the art of nudging, he said, teaching the institutions to solve their own problems.

When members of a congregation call Gunn to complain about a pastor, for example, he nudges them back into the chain of command, insisting they address the problem first at the church level before running to the presbytery. If a church is struggling to fulfill its mission, he nudges it toward the presbytery’s three-year transformation program, which includes training and goal-setting for clergy and laymen.

If pastors approach him with concerns, he offers what he calls “good counsel,” wading into the fray only if he sees a revolution on the horizon.

“When you send a third party in there, it complexifies the process,” he said. “You’re better off equipping that leader to lead and protecting their authority as pastor.”