One of the pleasant surprises about being a church consultant in the late 20th century was that, for many churches, the low trust among congregants exhibited before hiring the consultant transformed into remarkably high trust in the consultant as they shared stories of pain and loss. All the participants, on every side, assumed that the consultant would see the situation their way. This perspective made getting people to talk very easy.

Once people had a chance to tell their stories to a stranger, they began to discover what was really important to them. The consultant's work, then, was figuring out how to get people to listen to each other, across the sides into which they were divided. Congregants could remember a time when they felt listened to; the consultant's work was to recover that kind of relationship.

Today, many people in the United States don't remember a time when they were heard. Some feel that the American economy and society have left them far behind. Others have been silenced for generations, their stories missing from history books and media coverage. As a result, many increasingly believe that they can be understood only by people like themselves. People not like themselves are dangerous. For protection, some people hide, while others lash out.

In this moment, engendering trust -- in one's leadership and within one's community -- is among the leader's most important and difficult acts.