The young man had done everything right. He kept the commandments, lived honorably, and when he encountered Jesus, he asked the best possible question: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Yet when Jesus answered—”Sell what you have, give to the poor, and follow me”—the man walked away grieving, because he had great possessions (Mark 10:17-22).
What makes this encounter so striking isn’t just the man’s refusal. It’s that Jesus let him go. No committee referral. No softening the terms. No delegating the difficult conversation to Peter or John. Jesus himself delivered the hard news, the hard no—and bore the weight of watching someone he loved turn away.
This is the uncomfortable truth every church board must learn: you can’t delegate no.
Think of authority in your church like a river system. A board can open channels, directing resources and permission to flow toward ministry leaders, volunteers, and staff. This is “delegating yes”—and it’s essential. When done well, it empowers people to use their gifts, make decisions, and move quickly without waiting for approval at every turn.
But “no” works differently. When a board delegates the responsibility of refusal—whether through avoidance, vague policies, or pushing difficult conversations onto staff—it doesn’t empower anyone. It creates confusion. People sense that the person saying no doesn’t actually hold the authority, so they do what any reasonable person would do: they look for the real decision-maker.
The result? End runs. Appeals. Confusion about who actually leads. And often, the very conflict the board hoped to avoid by staying silent.
Also, a system that does not say no at important times will find its vision for ministry eroded. You may recall a crucial exchange in the musical “Hamilton,” when Aaron Burr instructs Alexander Hamilton to “Talk less, smile more / Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.” This provokes Hamilton in turn to ask Burr: “If you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for?” Values and vision—at essential moments—have a clear no in focus.
Jesus could have sent the rich young ruler to the disciples for a discernment process. He could have suggested the man pray about it and come back later. Instead, he looked at him, loved him, and gave him the hard truth directly.
This wasn’t cruelty. It was clarity born of love. The man needed to hear the hard truth of a life with and for God from the one with actual authority—not because Jesus enjoyed difficult conversations, but because anything less would have been a failure of leadership and, ultimately, of love.
Church boards face the same calling. When a program needs to end, when a staff member isn’t the right fit, when a well-meaning proposal doesn’t align with the congregation’s mission—these decisions require the board to speak clearly, directly, and with their full authority behind the words.
When boards delegate no, they don’t eliminate conflict; they multiply it. Staff members become the face of decisions they didn’t make and can’t fully explain. Congregants feel shut down because they’re being told no without the needed context of values and vision. Trust erodes—not because of the refusal itself, but because of the lack of clarity about where authority actually resides.
The rich young ruler walked away sad, but he walked away knowing exactly where he stood. He was hoping his checklist of requirements would be enough to enter into the fullness of God. But it wasn’t. A life of checklists and rule-following does not produce abundant faith, let alone abundant life.
Herein lies the gift of clear expectations and vision, delivered with love by the right person: it honors the dignity of the one receiving it, even in disappointment. The congregation your church board serves deserves that same clarity. And only the board can provide it.
In what way is Jesus saying no to the rich young man in Mark 10:17-22?
Can you think of a time in your work or personal life when you delegated yes—opening channels of authority to flow in new directions? What happened as a result?
By contrast, can you think of a time in your life when you delegated no—passing along a hard decision that should have stayed with you? What happened in that situation?
When you think about your church board culture, what comes more easily—delegating yes, or saying no?
Is there something on your church board agenda that needs a clear, loving no? What stands in the board’s way?
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