The Power to Be Disliked
The ability to make unpopular decisions is a superpower. The best leaders are the ones who make themselves uncomfortable time and again. They know discomfort leads to results. It leads to progress, power, and prestige. As a leader, you must be willing to creep from the comfort of commendation to the damp discomfort of disdain. Martin Luther King Sr. is an excellent example.
Before Martin Luther King Jr. was a household name, his father was leading with tenacity in Atlanta, Georgia.
In 1932, Martin Luther King Sr., better known as Daddy King, assumed leadership of the Ebenezer Baptist Church. The transition was tense, as King was filling the role of his recently deceased father in law, A.D. Williams.
After Williams died suddenly of a heart attack, church members sought a more seasoned replacement than King. His wife didn’t want him to take the position, but his mother in law did. Her words carried weight at the church, so she made a speech, swaying the congregation to appoint Daddy King as the new pastor.
Aside from the personal qualms and reservations of church members, Daddy King was facing small odds of success. In the throes of the Great Depression, church membership had fallen like rain from a spring sky. With only 200 members left in the congregation, regular donations were a fraction of what they had once been.
The church was behind on their mortgage and was facing an existential crisis. They lost their leader. They lost their revenue. And they were about to lose their home.
Swift, strong leadership was the only answer. Daddy King met the challenge, fought resistance, and demonstrated that, when the outlook is darkest, the best leaders are the ones who have the thickest skin. They don’t mind disagreements. They welcome disputes. And they deafen their ears to the cries of criticism sans suggestions.
King understood the struggles ahead of him when he arrived to find a padlock securing shut the church doors. It stood as a silent sentry and a ringing reminder for Daddy King of the troubles he was facing.
In a stroke of skill, or possibly luck, King negotiated enough credit with the bank to have the padlock temporarily removed. Then he got to work steering his congregation to solvency so they wouldn’t lose their home.
King preached the importance of supporting each other financially. If a shopkeeper or a barber joined the church, King would preach to his members on the importance of patronizing the new member’s business. As the business succeeded, the member was expected to share his success with the church.
Supporting thy neighbor isn’t a radical idea, but King’s next steps were radical in the eyes of many members.
Ebenezer had been operating as a collection of tiny businesses. Each club, each auxiliary, even each class had their own budgets. They managed their money separately. Daddy King eliminated this model. Effective immediately, each individual group was instructed to pool their money in the church’s treasury. They would run a singular, centralized budget from that day forward.
No single group would ride high on the hog while the church was behind on their bills.
Next, King eliminated the practice of anonymous giving. He believed it facilitated the less desirable practice of anonymous non-giving. No more passing plates at services and suppers. No more ignorance of your neighbor’s contribution. No more skating by without paying your fair share.
Instead, King established an open ledger where every member’s contributions were recorded. This system was a shrill shriek to the ears of many members, but given the gravity of the situation, King needed to take bold action. Daddy King didn’t care if members despised the new collection method. Daddy King did care for the solvency of the church, and he knew money matters took precedence over how his congregation felt about him.
King also created church clubs for every month on the calendar. Members belonged to the club of their birth month, and they organized events and contests within the congregation. When a club member contributed to the church, his club was credited for the contribution. Daddy King encouraged - even fostered - a culture of competition between clubs, so long as it benefitted the bottom line.
In perhaps his shrewdest move, King began recruiting insurance salesmen as church members. During the Depression, insurance companies sent salesmen door to door on a weekly basis to collect premiums. A nickel a week was often easier for customers to pay than the full bill once per month. King wanted to apply the same approach to collecting church donations.
He recruited insurance salesmen, boasting that they would build their customer base by joining the church. When the salesmen were out on their weekly calls, they could also collect a donation for Ebenezer.
Sick and elderly church members could still make their weekly contributions without stepping into the sanctuary - a nickel for the insurance company and a nickel for Ebenezer Baptist Church.
Daddy King entered the church as a young leader following the long tenure of his predecessor. Many of his tactics were radical. Many of them shocked or offended the congregation, but King didn’t care. He knew strong and radical leadership was necessary to save the sinking ship. He knew many members wouldn’t like the changes, but he made them anyway. He knew that leadership meant doing the hard things when everyone else wanted to keep doing the easy things.
Daddy King saved Ebenezer from the brink of bankruptcy. He secured loans for the church. He boosted the building fund. He grew membership from 200 to over 4,000. And he did it all during The Great Depression.
Daddy King’s tactics should set the bar for anyone serving as a leader. The popular decisions aren’t always the right decisions. The ability to do what’s uncomfortable, despite the disdain of the people you’re leading, is often what makes the best commanders. The greatest leaders have the foresight to pierce through the discomfort and perceive the success on the other side. And they eventually enjoy the adulation of the people they lead to victory.
