如果第二篇所提出的觀察成立，那麼另一個問題自然會出現：究竟是甚麼讓一間教會能夠持續產生下一代領袖？
很多時候，當教會談論傳承時，我們很容易把焦點放在制度、架構、訓練和策略之上。然而當我回頭思考自己的成長經歷時，卻愈來愈覺得，真正影響一間教會能否持續產生下一代領袖的，或許並不是這些東西。至少在我的信仰成長歷程裡，最深刻塑造我的，從來不是某一套領袖培育課程，而是一種對生命的重視。
我一直以為所有教會都是這樣
在上一篇文章裡，我曾分享自己成長於一種十分重視傳承的教會文化之中。提摩太後書二章二節幾乎是最常被引用的經文之一。從初信栽培到門徒訓練，從團契生活到組長聚會，從主日講台到同工分享，我反覆聽見同一個提醒：「你在許多見證人面前聽見我所教訓的，也要交託那忠心能教導別人的人。」
在那樣的環境裡，組長訓練是理所當然的事情，門徒訓練是理所當然的事情，鼓勵年輕人承擔責任也是理所當然的事情。我們經常聽見「委身你成功」這句說話，也經常被提醒，要思考如何把自己所領受的交託給下一代，建立他們的生命。
當時的我一直以為，每間教會都是這樣運作的。直到後來接觸更多不同背景的教會，我才慢慢發現，原來並不是每一間教會都把培育下一代視為群體的重要使命。更重要的是，我開始發現，即使有些教會擁有相似的課程、訓練和制度，最後所產生的果效卻仍然十分不同。
於是我開始思考：真正的差異究竟在哪裡？
在我的成長過程裡，我親身經歷過三次教會分裂。我最深刻記得的，不是分裂，而是分裂之後。
坦白說，教會分裂當然令人難過，但對當時的我而言，卻並不特別意外。或許因為從信主初期開始，我已經知道人性的有限，也知道任何群體都有可能出現衝突、誤解和分歧。無論翻開聖經中的哥林多教會，還是回顧歷代教會歷史，我們都不難發現類似的事情不斷重複出現。
因此，多年後回頭看，我最深刻記得的並不是那些衝突本身，而是分裂之後所發生的事情。
我記得許多熟悉的面孔離開了。那些人不只是普通會眾，而是一起敬拜的人、一起成長的人、一起事奉的人，甚至是長期承擔重要責任的核心領袖。如果單從表面來看，這樣的流失本來足以令一間教會元氣大傷。
然而今天回頭看，我愈來愈覺得真正值得思考的問題不是「為甚麼有人離開」，而是「為甚麼留下來的人，後來能繼續傳承下去？」。
因為按人的常理來說，一個群體在經歷傷害之後，很容易開始保護自己。它會變得更加保守，更加謹慎，更加不願意相信人。它會把穩定放在成長之前，把安全放在冒險之前，把維持現狀放在投資下一代之前。¹
然而我後來在母會所看見的，卻不是這樣。
他們選擇先醫治生命
今天回頭看，我愈來愈覺得，當時受傷最深的，其實未必是一般會眾，而是那些留下來的傳道人和領袖。
教會經歷震盪之後，人手大量流失，資源也變得十分緊拙。為了讓教會能夠繼續維持運作，這批土生土長的傳道人曾經自願減薪，甚至有一段時間完全沒有薪酬。然而即使面對這樣的處境，他們仍然選擇緊守崗位，繼續牧養群體，沒有輕易離開。
多年後回頭看，我愈來愈明白，這些事情對當時的我其實產生了很深的影響。因為我所看見的，不只是一群正在完成工作的宗教工作者，而是一群即使付上代價，仍然願意守護群體的人。今天回想起來，這種生命的榜樣深深影響了我和太太後來對事奉的理解。它讓我們明白，牧養從來不只是職責，也不只是職位，而是一種願意與群體同行、一起承擔、一起守望的生命態度。
而更令我深刻的是，在我的記憶裡，他們並沒有把主要精力放在如何重建規模，也沒有急於恢復過去的發展速度。他們做得最多的事情，除了無數次的醫治禱告會，就是陪伴，是聆聽，是守望，是幫助那些受傷的人慢慢重新站起來。
教會地震之後那幾年，領袖們處理得最多的事情，其實不是事工，而是傷口。他們不是為了培育下一代而陪伴人，也不是為了建立領袖梯隊而關心人。他們之所以願意花時間聆聽、探訪、守望和同行，只是因為他們看見許多人受傷了，而受傷的人需要被愛、被理解、被接納。
今天回頭看，我才發現這其實是一件十分不容易的事情。因為當一個群體受傷時，最自然的反應往往是把焦點放在保護自己身上。然而我所看見的，卻是一群同樣受傷的人，仍然願意把注意力放在別人的傷痛和需要身上。²
原來這才是文化的起點
很多年後，當我再次回頭觀看那些歲月時，我開始明白第二篇所提到的那種培育文化，究竟是從哪裡開始的。它或許不是從一套訓練課程開始，也不是從一個接班計劃開始。它是從一群人願意重視生命開始。
因為當一個群體真正重視生命時，它自然會願意陪伴人、聆聽人、給予機會、容許人成長，也願意容許人在不成熟的時候慢慢學習承擔責任。久而久之，那些曾經被陪伴的人開始陪伴別人；那些曾經被建立的人開始建立別人；那些曾經被投資的人開始投資下一代。
今天回頭看，我愈來愈覺得，許多教會談論傳承時，往往先想到如何培育領袖。然而在我的成長經驗裡，我所看見的卻是另一條路。真正的傳承，很多時候並不是從培育領袖開始，而是從重視生命開始。因為當一間教會真正重視生命時，它最終不只是培育出一些領袖，而是會慢慢形成一種文化——一種願意持續愛人、建立人、陪伴人的文化。而當這種文化存在的時候，下一代領袖往往便會在不知不覺之間出現。³
Antony傳道
下一篇預告
然而，當我繼續思考這個問題時，我也開始發現另一件事情。
即使重視生命，也不一定自然帶來傳承。許多教會同樣關心人、愛人，卻未必能夠持續產生下一代領袖。
那麼，究竟是甚麼讓一種文化能夠一代又一代地延續下去？
下一代領袖又是如何慢慢被建立起來的？
下一篇，我想進一步思考：傳承究竟是如何發生的。
*我的母會，名叫：生命頌浸信會
註腳
1. Edwin H. Friedman, A Failure of Nerve: Leadership in the Age of the Quick Fix (New York: Church Publishing, 2007), 15–35。
Friedman指出，群體在面對衝突、危機與焦慮時，往往傾向自我保護、降低風險及維持穩定，而非繼續建立信任與投資關係。因此，一個經歷重大創傷後仍然願意向外投入和培育人的群體，並非理所當然。
2. Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Wounded Healer (New York: Image Books, 1979), 72–89。
Nouwen提出「受傷的醫治者」（wounded healer）的觀念，指出真正的牧養往往不是來自沒有傷口的人，而是來自那些願意帶著自己的傷痛去陪伴別人的人。這種陪伴並非建立於能力之上，而是建立於愛與同理之上。
3. Colin Marshall and Tony Payne, The Trellis and the Vine: The Ministry Mind-Shift That Changes Everything (Kingsford, NSW: Matthias Media, 2009), 13–24；Robert E. Coleman, The Master Plan of Evangelism (Grand Rapids: Revell, 1963), 27–43。
Marshall與Payne指出，教會長遠的生命力並不主要來自制度與架構，而是來自持續建立人的生命。Coleman則強調，耶穌改變世界的方法並非建立龐大的組織，而是長期投資於人的生命。兩者都指出，真正持久的傳承，本質上是一種生命影響生命的文化。
If the observation raised in the previous article is true, then another question naturally follows: What enables a church to continue producing leaders from one generation to the next?
When churches talk about handing on what they have received, we can easily focus on systems, structures, training, and strategies. Yet as I reflect on my own journey of growth, I increasingly feel that these may not be the things that most deeply determine whether a church can continue producing leaders for the next generation. At least in my own journey of faith, what shaped me most deeply was never a particular leadership development programme, but a culture that valued people.
I Used to Think Every Church Was Like This
In the previous article, I shared that I grew up within a church culture that placed great importance on handing on what we had received. 2 Timothy 2:2 was one of the passages we heard most often:
“What you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men, who will be able to teach others also.”
In that environment, training small-group leaders seemed entirely natural. Discipleship training seemed entirely natural. Encouraging younger people to take responsibility seemed entirely natural. We often heard a phrase that had become something of a motto in our church: “Commit Yourself to Others’ Success.” We were also regularly reminded to think about how we might entrust what we had received to the next generation.
At the time, I assumed that every church worked this way. It was only later, as I encountered churches from a wider range of backgrounds, that I gradually realized that not every church sees developing the next generation as an important part of its shared mission. More importantly, I began to notice that even churches with similar courses, training, and systems could produce very different results.
And so I began to wonder: Where does the real difference lie?
During my years of growing up in the church, I personally lived through three church splits. What I remember most clearly, however, is not the splits themselves, but what happened afterward.
Church splits are, of course, painful. Yet at the time, they did not particularly surprise me. Perhaps that was because I had recognized the limitations of human nature early in my Christian life. Conflict, misunderstanding, and disagreement can arise in any community. Whether we turn to the church in Corinth or look across the history of the church, it is not difficult to see similar patterns appearing again and again.
Years later, what remains most deeply in my memory is not the conflicts themselves, but what happened after the church had been divided.
I remember many familiar faces leaving. They were not simply people who attended the church. They were people with whom we had worshipped, grown, and served. Some had carried significant leadership responsibilities for many years. From the outside, losses of that magnitude could easily have left a church severely weakened.
Yet looking back today, I increasingly feel that the more important question is not, “Why did people leave?” but, “Why were those who remained able to continue handing on what they had received?”
By ordinary human instinct, a community that has been wounded can easily begin to protect itself. It may become more conservative, more cautious, and less willing to trust. It may begin to place stability before growth, safety before risk, and preserving what remains before investing in the next generation.¹
Yet that was not what I later saw in my home church.
They Chose to Care for Wounded Lives First
I have come to think that those who were most deeply wounded at the time may not have been the ordinary members of the congregation, but the pastors and leaders who stayed.
After the church went through those upheavals, many people left and resources became extremely limited. In order to keep the church going, these locally raised pastors voluntarily accepted salary reductions, and for a period of time even served without pay. Yet even under those circumstances, they chose to remain at their posts and continue caring for the community rather than simply walking away.
Years later, I came to understand how deeply this affected me. What I saw was not simply a group of religious workers carrying out their duties, but people who were willing to protect and care for a community even when doing so came at a personal cost. Their example profoundly shaped the way my wife and I later came to understand ministry. It taught us that pastoral ministry is never merely a duty or a position. It is a way of life that is willing to walk with a community, share its burdens, and watch over it together.
What left an even deeper impression on me was that, as I remember it, they did not devote most of their energy to rebuilding the size of the church, nor did they rush to restore its previous pace of growth. Apart from countless healing prayer gatherings, what they did most was accompany people, listen to them, watch over them, and help those who had been wounded gradually stand again.
In the years after the church had been so deeply shaken, the leaders spent much of their time dealing not with ministries, but with wounds. They did not accompany people in order to develop the next generation, nor did they care for people in order to build a leadership pipeline. They spent time listening, visiting, watching over, and walking alongside people simply because they saw that many had been hurt, and wounded people needed to be loved, understood, and accepted.
Only years later did I realize how difficult this actually was. When a community has been wounded, the most natural response is often to focus on protecting itself. Yet what I witnessed was a group of people who were themselves wounded and who were still willing to turn their attention toward the pain and needs of others.²
Perhaps This Is Where Culture Begins
Many years later, as I reflected again on that period, I began to understand where the culture of development described in the previous article may actually have begun. Perhaps it did not begin with a training programme. Perhaps it did not begin with a succession plan. It began with a group of people who valued others.
When a community genuinely values people, it will naturally be willing to walk alongside them, listen to them, give them opportunities, allow them room to grow, and let them gradually learn to take responsibility even while they are still immature. Over time, those who were once accompanied begin to accompany others. Those who were once built up begin to build up others. Those in whom others once invested begin to invest in the next generation.
Today, I increasingly feel that when churches talk about handing on what they have received, they often begin by asking how to develop leaders. Yet in my own experience, I witnessed another path. Handing on what we have received often does not begin with developing leaders. It begins with valuing people.
When a church genuinely values people, it eventually does more than develop a number of leaders. Over time, it forms a culture—a culture that continues to love people, build people up, and walk alongside them. And when such a culture exists, leaders for the next generation often begin to emerge almost without anyone noticing.³
Pastor Antony
Coming Next
As I continued reflecting on this question, however, I began to notice something else.
Even valuing people does not necessarily lead naturally to the handing on of what we have received. Many churches genuinely care for and love people, yet still struggle to produce leaders from one generation to the next.
So what enables a culture to continue from one generation to another?
And how are leaders of the next generation gradually built up?
In the next article, I want to explore this question further:
How Do Leaders Grow?
Notes
¹ Edwin H. Friedman, A Failure of Nerve: Leadership in the Age of the Quick Fix (New York: Church Publishing, 2007), 15–35.
Friedman is not writing specifically about church splits. His observations about anxious relational systems, however, help illuminate why communities facing conflict and crisis often move toward self-protection, risk reduction, and the preservation of stability rather than continuing to build trust and invest in relationships. Seen in this light, a community that has experienced significant trauma and yet continues to invest in and develop people should not be taken for granted.
² Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Wounded Healer (New York: Image Books, 1979), 72–89.
Nouwen develops the idea of the “wounded healer,” suggesting that genuine pastoral care often comes not from people who are without wounds, but from those who are willing to accompany others while carrying wounds of their own. Such accompaniment is grounded not primarily in competence, but in love and empathy.
³ Colin Marshall and Tony Payne, The Trellis and the Vine: The Ministry Mind-Shift That Changes Everything (Kingsford, NSW: Matthias Media, 2009), 13–24; Robert E. Coleman, The Master Plan of Evangelism (Grand Rapids: Revell, 1963), 27–43.
Marshall and Payne do not dismiss the value of structures and organization—the “trellis” has an important role—but argue that these must serve, rather than replace, the work of growing and building people—the “vine.” Coleman likewise emphasizes that Jesus’ way of forming people for His mission centered on sustained investment in a relatively small group of disciples rather than on building an organization as an end in itself. Together, they point to an important dimension of how what we have received is handed on: people are formed through sustained investment in people.
沒有留言 :
發佈留言