Well-intentioned 'dragons'

The dragon is a time-honored ancient symbol of power. We find depictions of dragons in most of the ancient palaces of East Asia, especially China, Korea and Vietnam. The dragon is good and beneficent as a bringer of rain. The Asian dragon is usually depicted as wingless (though it can fly), and the number of toes on an artwork symbolizes royal status. Asian dragons are very different from their Western counterparts. Western dragons have wings, breathe fire and are symbols of evil and destruction.

In the West, a “well-intentioned dragon” is a metaphor for someone who is good and wants to make things better but goes about it in such a way as to wreak havoc wherever they tread. As a pastor of several churches over the past few decades, I have often encountered well-intentioned dragons in my congregations. Because the church doors are open to all, all are welcome in God’s house. But sometimes, we would prefer those people to be more compatible with the majority, or at least the perceived norm.

A few years ago, at a church I pastored in California, a lifelong church member in her 70s was my number one well-intentioned dragon. The church was growing and attracting new members, mainly late baby boomers and early Gen X. Many had little or no background in a church family. They had no long-held “that’s how we’ve always done it” ideas. They enlivened our worship with their musical talent, singing and instrumental, but often used “contemporary Christian” music, rather than the hymnal of yesteryear.

“Gertrude” was adamant that only the organ be played during worship and demanded an end to the “rock and roll” music (as she perceived it). While I understood her traditional sentiment, I also strongly believed — as did most of my parishioners — that there was no problem with the newer music sung by vocalists, with congregational singing done from the hymnal with the organ. One day, Gertrude’s long festering anger reached the boiling point. A soloist began a number. Gertrude suddenly slammed her hymnal on the floor, jumped out of her seat, stumbled over a couple of people in her row, stormed down the central aisle and shoved the soloist on her way out the door. We could hear the screech of tires as she tore out of the parking lot and presumably headed home.

After the service, I called several elders to chat in the office. Some of them were Gertrude’s age and had known her since childhood. Two men were retired pastors of the congregation and had known Gertrude’s family from way back. They all agreed that her behavior was unacceptable, but suggested I be very careful in approaching her because she might stop attending church and we wouldn’t want that. Sure, we don’t want to chase people away, but there also needs to be loving tolerance or even acceptance of all. That’s what is meant by community in a Christian sense. After some thought, I realized the elders and retired pastors had always let Gertrude have her way “in the interest of peace.” I wondered how the church could move forward if we had to always walk on eggshells around Gertrude.

A few days later, an opportunity for a potential resolution came my way. Call it providence, if you are a believer. Gertrude’s daughter called me and asked me to come to the house to help her “fix the ribbon” in her typewriter. I drove over. Gertrude welcomed me with a smile and served me tea and biscuits. I “fixed” the ribbon, and we had a nice chat. As I stood to leave, Gertrude let me have it. She accused me of trying to destroy “her” church. I stopped her mid-sentence and, as kindly as I could, I reminded her that she was one of our senior members, a mother or grandmother to the congregation. The new people needed that grandmotherly love and guidance. Then I said, perhaps too directly, “For goodness' sake, you are a 70-year-old grown woman, now start acting like one.” I said goodbye and went home, wondering if the message got through or if I had signed my dismissal as pastor.

The following Sunday, Gertrude was smiling happily in her regular seat, having greeted people, even the soloist from the week before. At the end of the service, she commented on how lovely the soloist’s voice was. The elders and former pastors were amazed. Members of the congregation could not imagine what caused such a change. I never told anyone, but Gertrude and I were fast friends until she moved on to the heavenly realm. And the church continued to grow and attract young adults and more of their “rock and roll” Christian music.

Rev. Steven L. Shields, FRAS (slshields@gmail.com) has lived in Korea for many years, beginning in the 1970s. A Fellow of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, he is also a lifelong member of the Royal Asiatic Society of Korea, of which he was a director, vice president and president. He was a copy editor of The Korea Times in 1977. The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect The Korea Times’ editorial stance.