Myth 3: You can’t teach an old dog new tricks

When trying to motivate change, we often start with facts — “Once they know the facts, they’ll change” (myth 1). When that fails, we turn to fear — “If you don’t change, look what will happen” (myth 2). And when that doesn’t work either, we’re tempted to conclude that change just isn’t possible. Maybe people are too set in their ways.

Alan Deutchman, in Change or Die, argues that even in high-stakes fields like healthcare, manufacturing and criminal justice, experts have given up expecting change. They’ve built systems around the assumption that most people won’t.

My hunch is that many church leaders, too, have a pessimistic view when it comes to their congregations and change.

As part of my master’s research, I interviewed pastors who have led significant change in their (often older, mainline) congregations, and I spoke with congregants who, though hesitant or even fearful, did in fact change.

Here are three things I’ve learned from those stories:

1. Successful change is always led.

The pastors I interviewed viewed themselves as leaders, entrusted by God to lead change. Listen to Bruce, leader of St Jude’s (I’ve used pseudonyms to de-identify churches and ministers). Reflecting on his approach, he said:

“I’m always trying to change everything but keep it the same… We're creatures of habit. And if we get into a pattern, we'll end up just stagnating… That's what it's like to be a Christian. It means you keep changing.”

A lot is going on in those few sentences. Bruce recognises that without intentional leadership, his congregation will tend toward comfort and routine, focused on internal needs and worship preferences. More than that, note the way he speaks about change. He links the change to people’s discipleship: Christians are called to grow, stretch, and be continually formed by God. They are therefore not spiritually neutral; this is God’s will for his people.

You can also hear Bruce’s sense of leadership and pastoral responsibility; he embraces his role in shaping the attitudes and practices of his congregation.

Healthy change doesn’t just happen — it’s led by pastors with the courage to act and the conviction that God is in it.

2. Trust makes change possible.

In all three churches I studied, trust emerged as the invisible thread that held change together. The churches, which had each experienced significant shifts in their community life, were from a mainline denomination, and at least half of the nearly fifty people I interviewed were over sixty-five. Some were enthusiastic about the changes. Others were cautious, even opposed. But when I asked if they trusted their minister, not a single person said no.

Why does trust matter so much?

One older lay-leader put it this way:

“If a leader gets people on side, you’re willing to compromise... You put your relationship with the person and support of the person above your own individual preferences.”

In essence: “I have been willing to do things I’d prefer not to do because I know my minister cares about me.”

That kind of relational capital doesn’t come from good strategy or slick communication. It’s built slowly, over cups of tea, hospital visits, and honest conversations. And it’s what makes change survivable — even when it’s uncomfortable.

Writer and blogger Elizabeth Oldfield notes in her essay Friendship is my theory of change:

“Far from being rational actors, objectively assessing every new piece of information on its merits, we mainly adopt the views of people we trust and admire. Crucially, they tend to be those we sense might trust and admire us.”

In the congregations I studied, trust functioned like relational glue. People didn’t necessarily agree with the changes — but they believed their leaders were acting with integrity, care, and conviction.

3. Collaboration leads to ownership.

Change that’s imposed usually creates resistance. But change that’s co-created — where people feel involved and heard — is far more likely to take root.

Michael, minister of St Phillips and St Thomas, understood this deeply. He didn’t lead alone. Instead, he formed a mission and vision team, carefully selecting people from across the church: some who were supportive, others who were cautious, even a few who stood to lose the most if changes went ahead. They spent months discerning together why change was needed before deciding what should change.

So when new ideas eventually emerged, they didn’t feel like Michael’s agenda. They felt like the group’s own insights, formed through shared wrestling and prayer. Because of that, the group truly owned the changes.

Michael had a clear conviction that change was necessary. But he held the specifics loosely. He was “relaxed about the outcome” — passionate about the need for change, but not controlling about the exact form it would take.

That posture of humble leadership continued as the vision team hosted church-wide forums. People were invited into the ‘why’ before discussing the ‘what’. They had space to trial things and even vote on their preferred direction. The process built clarity, unity, and buy-in, not because everyone got their way, but because they felt heard and trusted the process.

Under Michael’s leadership, collaboration didn’t mean compromise. It meant shared conviction — and ultimately, shared ownership.

If we assume people won’t change, we’ll stop trying — or worse, lead with cynicism. But real change is possible. Not easy. Not fast. But possible.

There’s no magic formula for church change. But there is a pattern: Lead with courage. Build trust. Collaborate generously. That’s how old dogs — and old churches — learn new tricks.