"They have some money problems," he said...

My car was parked in front of my beautiful new home—a 20th-century Victorian, serving as the parsonage for Mason United Methodist Church. With my arms full of groceries, I noticed a woman walking toward me with purpose. I hadn’t met many members of the congregation yet—just the leaders I interviewed with during the appointment process, and Greg, who’d been in charge of sprucing up the parsonage. This woman was new to me.

“I’m the Finance Chair,” she said briskly. “I’m Jane. And I’m resigning.”

What better way to say, Welcome to Mason, Pastor Susan!

My District Superintendent, Derek, had mentioned the church had some financial challenges. But then again, what church doesn’t? I hadn’t been overly concerned. Still, Jane’s abrupt resignation before I’d even started made me pause. Something’s not right, I thought.

A few days later, I moved into my church office. I was unpacking books—half of which I rarely open—when Jane appeared again, just as purposeful. She sat down and handed me a stack of papers covered in numbers.

Numbers and pastors don’t usually mix well. But this was my fourth appointment as pastor-in-charge. I’d picked up a few things about QuickBooks, investments, interest rates, and the United Methodist finance guidelines—blah, blah, blah.

“This is how much we bring in from tithes and rentals,” she said, circling a number in red, upside down from her view. “In June, we took in $17,859 and spent $26,349. That should tell you all you need to know.”

“Is this why you’re resigning as Finance Chair?”

“It’s a big part of it. They don’t have a balanced budget. They spend money they don’t have. It’s ridiculous. It’s like they want to close.”

Jane was talking about the rest of the finance committee—the ones who leaned more toward ministry dreams than fiscal discipline.

“They’re dreamers,” she said. “But these numbers? These are our future. And they point to no future at all. I thought you should know that.”  Jane might be abrupt, but she isn’t abrasive. She’s a realist. I’m not. I need people like her to keep me grounded in “reality”—whatever that means.

“So,” she went on, “when we overspend, we draw from our endowments. We’re in the red by about $7,000 to $9,000 every month. If this trend continues, Mason will last another eight years—tops.”

Crap.  What did the Bishop do to me?