How to Live Out Mercy as a Leader

Last month, I was confronted by a colleague. It wasn’t pleasant. She’d been carrying around some unanswered questions about me as a leader, about how I was making decisions and how our team was functioning. Those questions turned into assumptions, which festered until they turned into accusations. I saw it coming in the form of a prayer request sent in a group text, and asked if we could talk about her issues one-on-one. She declined, then proceeded to address her concerns—to the whole group. Except that all of her concerns were about me. And they all stemmed from a lack of understanding.

When I saw that second group message come through, I was standing in the baby doll aisle at Target. L was happily browsing. H was asleep in her car seat. It was the final week of my maternity leave, and I’d planned a leisurely morning of errands, with plenty of time for L to enjoy herself in the toy section. I stood there and read her accusations (note: it’s never a good idea to read unkind words about yourself in a public place if you can help it). By the time I was finished reading, I was shaking like a leaf. I felt attacked, disrespected, humiliated, exposed.

I wasn’t yet sure of her intentions, which left me wondering if this was a brilliant attempt at a coup or a cry for understanding. Her accusations were peppered with “we” statements, appeals to the group’s “heart,” and plenty of Scripture references turned just sideways enough to make it seem like there might be biblical support for her words. A barrage of self-questioning rose up within me. The enemy loves to make us question ourselves. It’s one of his specialties.

Unfounded accusations can feel worse than those that have a basis in truth. It’s exhausting to defend ourselves against the lies of the enemy. And how do we respond when someone attacks us in such a way, even unintentionally?

It’s not easy to show love and mercy to an accuser.

I knew what I could do. I was the team leader. If I wanted to, I could simply tell her that her actions were unacceptable and that we didn’t need her assistance anymore. That would be the quickest, easiest way out, and I simply wouldn’t have to deal with figuring out the situation, or with finding a way to resolve it.

Or I could take a higher road, one that looked more like the path of Jesus.

With my mind still whirling, I hustled L toward the checkout lanes, my peaceful morning thrown off kilter—at least for the moment. Back in my car, with both girls buckled in and quiet, I began to rage to God.

I don’t have time to deal with this, Lord. And I don’t want to deal with it. Why should I have to spend my energy refuting lies? I tried to head off this situation, and I feel like I just got sucker punched. I haven’t been unkind to her—quite the contrary, in fact. 

And the kicker: I don’t deserve this, God.

When you’re in a leadership position, you don’t always get what you think you deserve. But when you agree to lead, it’s smart to lay down all your expectations about what you “deserve” and understand that leadership comes with a big, red target you get to wear on your back. It’s just part of the gig. You’re inevitably under scrutiny (and that’s not always a bad thing—we all need accountability).

I knew that all my decisions were prayerfully made. I knew that my heart was in the right place. I knew that I was seeking God daily about how to lead my team.

But my accuser didn’t. Granted, she hadn’t asked me about my heart. She hadn’t given me an opportunity to share what lay behind my decisions.

But was that her responsibility? Or was it mine?

A leader is sometimes called to make herself accountable not just to a mentor or a partner, but to those she leads. Transparency can be a gift we give to others. If we humble ourselves, how much more likely are we to become better leaders? How much more likely are we to model and inspire?

I had to tell myself to breathe. I closed my eyes and searched my heart, called into question by what appeared to be a biblically based examination of my character. But underneath the quaking, I sensed God’s reassurances. I knew I was leading obediently. This was a simple misunderstanding gone south, turned ugly, made more than it ought to have been by the real enemy, who was not my colleague.

I took the rest of that day to decompress, to let my negative feelings drain away. I knew I needed some time and space to cool off and think. It wouldn’t do me or her any good if I jumped all over her or got defensive. As it turned out, I didn’t have to be the first responder. Another colleague composed a gently worded reply to the message, suggesting my accuser talk with me directly, as I’d offered in the first place.

She saw the writing on the wall and backed off, saying she knew she’d taken a misstep somehow, that she’d obviously misunderstood some things, and there was no need for me to address her concerns.

I could have just let it go at that point.

But what happens to lies that aren’t exposed? They may appear to go away, but unconfronted by the truth, they can continue to fester beneath the surface until they rear their heads again in an even more volatile fashion.

No, I knew I couldn’t let it go. I knew that was exactly what the enemy wanted—he’d somehow gotten to her, and he surely wanted me to take the easy way out so he could continue whispering his lies to her and eventually cause greater conflict, perhaps even tearing apart our team.

I scheduled a time to sit down with her face to face a couple of days later. In the meantime, I read through her message again with great care and journaled out a detailed response to each accusation. As I did, God spoke compassion and grace into my heart. When the time came for us to sit down together, I was ready.

I could see apprehension in her face. She insisted I didn’t have to answer to her. I wondered what God had been speaking to her heart over the past two days.

I gently told her I wanted to go through each one of her concerns, so that she would have a deeper understanding of things, so that we could move forward together.

We spent the next hour talking through the inspiration and motivation behind the leadership of our team. I was perfectly calm. My words were soft. I’m sure it was by the power of the Holy Spirit alone.

I was doing the one thing I would have said no way to when that message first showed up. I was sharing my heart with her.

When we finished, her face was wreathed in smiles. She thanked me profusely for taking the time to respond to her graciously, to set the record straight. She thanked me for being kind.

But in the end, it wasn’t about thanks or about setting the record straight or even about kindness. What I had received was the peace that comes with obedience. The peace you get only by doing things God’s way.

One of the greatest tests of a leader, I think, is the ability to show mercy to someone who seemingly has it in for you. The ability to see that your accuser is not your enemy—the enemy is your enemy. If you can build relationships in the face of attack, if you can turn an attempt to tear down into an opportunity to create new with the Holy Spirit’s help, you have overcome evil.

[Tweet “Great battles are won with power and might. The real war is won with mercy and grace.”]