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Pastoral ministry is built on conversations, vision-shaping meetings, hallway chats, and late-night calls. Most are life-giving. Some, however, feel impossible.<\/p>\n
Before addressing the theme of the book, I want to name a concern. In today\u2019s climate, the label \u201cnarcissist\u201d is hurled at pastors far too easily. Any leader who shows conviction, confidence,or clarity can quickly be branded as domineering or self-absorbed. This overuse not only cheapens the word but unfairly discredits pastors who carry immense responsibility with integrity. At the same time, narcissism in ministry is real. Some leaders do exploit, manipulate, and harm those entrusted to their care. It is this reality, the coexistence of false accusations and genuine dysfunction, that makes discerning and addressing narcissism so \u201cimpossible\u201d.<\/p>\n
And it is precisely why How to Have Impossible Conversations[1]<\/strong><\/a><\/em> by Peter Boghossian and James Lindsay is so helpful. Though not written for ministry, the book provides tools for navigating the kinds of conversations pastors find themselves in, whether with congregants, colleagues, or themselves. Talking about narcissism often feels like an impossible task, but the book shows how these conversations can be survived and even redeemed.<\/p>\n Boghossian and Lindsay argue that most conversations fail because participants try to win rather than understand.[2]<\/a> Their antidote is humility, empathy, and active listening. But with narcissism, listening alone will not suffice. Narcissists exploit empathy as a weakness. They thrive in systems where words flow but accountability does not. Yet here is the tension: leaders who resist narcissism are often accused of being narcissists themselves. When pastors set boundaries or make decisive calls, some interpret this as arrogance. This is why discernment is critical. Edgar Schein\u2019s model of \u201chumble leadership\u201d[3]<\/a> reminds us that humility in dialogue does not mean surrendering authority. It means seeing the other as human while refusing to be manipulated. This sets up the next challenge for the pastor: if humility is not weakness, how do leaders stop narcissism from shaping them internally? That leads us to the shadow.<\/p>\n Carl Jung described the \u201cshadow\u201d as the repressed parts of the self that, left unacknowledged, erupt destructively.[4]<\/a> Narcissists are often dominated by shadow, constructing false selves and projecting blame. But pastors must also face their own shadow in these conversations: the hunger for admiration, the fear of rejection, the temptation to control. Simon Walker, in The Undefended Leader<\/em>, warns that unless leaders confront their backstage vulnerabilities, they risk replicating the very dysfunction they oppose.[5]<\/a> For pastors, this means that accusations of narcissism must drive us to deeper self-examination. Even when misplaced, accusations can expose shadows that need Christ\u2019s light. If shadows are one danger, oversimplifications are another. To see how the wider conversation about narcissism can go wrong, we turn to a personal critique of A Church Called Tov<\/em>.<\/p>\n Scot McKnight and Laura Barringer\u2019s A Church Called Tov[6]<\/strong><\/a><\/em> seeks to create healthier cultures, but it too easily equates strong pastoral leadership with fear-based narcissism. At times, it reads like a gossip column, shaming fallen pastors in ways that encourage curiosity about their sins rather than sober reflection. Its framing is also narrow. By reducing complex dynamics to a single negative style, it ignores the diversity of leadership approaches from autocratic to pioneering. It fails to grapple with cultural dimensions: Geert Hofstede\u2019s research[7]<\/a> shows that Americans often accept higher power-distance than cultures like the UK, where accountability is prized. To universalise one cultural lens is shallow and misleading. Even more problematic, Tov<\/em> scapegoats senior pastors while excusing the complicity of boards, associates, and congregations. This kind of one-sided narrative fuels the unhealthy trend of labelling pastors \u201cnarcissists\u201d whenever culture goes wrong. The gospel calls us to shared accountability, not easy accusations. If Tov<\/em> highlights what not to do, How to Have Impossible Conversations<\/em> offers practical ways forward. Their strategies help leaders engage narcissists without losing themselves.<\/p>\n Boghossian and Lindsay outline several practices pastors can adopt in conversations. While they list them as advanced skills, I would argue that they should become the \u201cbread and butter\u201d of all pastors. The practices include:<\/p>\n In conversations with narcissists, pastors must remain curious enough to engage, courageous enough to confront, and discerning enough to walk away when necessary. Grace in conversation does not mean appeasement. It means patience with people, but also protection of the vulnerable from manipulation. This sets up the final, sobering reality: sometimes the only faithful step is to end the conversation altogether.<\/p>\n Boghossian and Lindsay acknowledge that sometimes the wisest course is \u201cexit stage left.\u201d[9]<\/a> This is particularly true when dialogue becomes abusive. Jesus Himself modelled this: at times He questioned the Pharisees, at other times He walked away in silence. For pastors, this discernment is crucial. Some conversations must continue for reconciliation; others must end for the protection of the church.<\/p>\n And it brings us to the heart of the matter: impossible conversations are not only about what is said, but about who the leader is becoming in the process. Conversations with narcissists are the most impossible of all. They test the leader\u2019s patience, expose their shadow, and threaten the health of the community. Boghossian and Lindsay\u2019s framework helps pastors navigate these moments with boundaries, clarity, and courage. In all of this, pastors and church members must resist the cultural tendency to weaponise the label of narcissism against faithful leaders. The church does not need gossip or scapegoating; it needs wisdom, grace, and discernment. And wisdom begins with leaders who can engage in the impossible<\/p>\n [1]<\/a> Peter Boghossian and James A. Lindsay, How to Have Impossible Conversations: A Very Practical Guide<\/em> (New York: Da Capo Lifelong Books, 2019).<\/p>\n [2]<\/a> Ibid, 12.<\/p>\n [3]<\/a> Edgar H. Schein and Peter A. Schein, Humble Leadership: The Power of Relationships, Openness, and Trust<\/em> (Oakland, CA: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 2023.<\/p>\n [4]<\/a> C. G. Jung, Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self<\/em>, trans. R. F. C. Hull (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), 8\u201312.<\/p>\n [5]<\/a> Simon P. Walker, The Undefended Leader<\/em> (Carlisle: Piquant, 2007), 83\u201388.<\/p>\n [6]<\/a> Scot McKnight and Laura Barringer, A Church Called Tov: Forming a Goodness Culture That Resists Abuses of Power and Promotes Healing<\/em> (Carol Stream, IL: Tyndale Momentum, 2020).<\/p>\n [7]<\/a> Geert Hofstede, Culture\u2019s Consequences: Comparing Values, Behaviors, Institutions, and Organizations across Nations<\/em>, 2nd ed. (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 2001), 79\u201380.<\/p>\n [8]<\/a> Boghossian and Lindsay, Impossible Conversations<\/em>, 95.<\/p>\n\n