Trust and Safety

This February, I’ve been immersed in an intensive self-paced course as part of renewing my credential with the International Coaching Federation—a process that happens every three years. It’s slow, nuanced, and stretching. The kind of learning that requires deep attention rather than quick answers.

At the heart of the renewal process are the eight ICF Core Competencies—skills every credentialed coach is expected to embody and continually refine. One in particular has been lingering with me in recent days: Cultivates Trust and Safety.

The competency is defined as partnering with the client to create a safe, supportive environment that allows them to share freely—while maintaining mutual respect and trust.

As I reflected on it, I realized something: while we train pastors and ministry leaders extensively in listening skills, powerful questions, and action planning through Coach Approach Skill Training, we often assume trust and safety will simply happen. But in the world we’re living in, trust doesn’t just happen. It must be cultivated—intentionally, humbly, and courageously.

And not only in coaching conversations. In families. Churches. Communities. Leadership teams. And especially in a nation where distrust runs deep and those who think differently are often viewed as threats rather than partners.

A few years ago, I sat with a pastor who was exhausted from conflict in her congregation. Every meeting felt like a battlefield. People weren’t listening—they were preparing rebuttals. The tension was thick.

At one point she said quietly, “I don’t think anyone feels safe anymore.”

That sentence has stayed with me. Safety isn’t about agreeing. It’s about being seen, respected, and heard.

One foundational assumption in coaching is that the other person is creative, resourceful, and whole—capable of navigating their own life and leadership. They don’t need me to fix them, save them, or convince them. Instead, we approach one another as partners. In every coaching conversation, the client sets the agenda. We collaborate. We remain curious. We honor their experiences, values, beliefs, culture, and perspective—even when they differ from our own. Partnership dismantles hierarchy. And hierarchy is often what destroys trust.

This reminds me of the wisdom in the book When Helping Hurts, which challenged well-meaning leaders and mission groups to recognize how “helping” can unintentionally harm. The authors show how stepping in as the rescuer or expert often undermines the dignity, agency, and capacity of others. When we assume someone needs to be fixed, we subtly place ourselves above them. We may call it help—but it’s not partnership.

I can’t help but see parallels in our divided nation. So often, we approach those who think differently as problems to solve rather than people to understand. We try to correct, convince, or cancel instead of listening with curiosity and respect.

Cultivating trust and safety asks something harder of us. It asks us to soften our grip—just enough—to become open. To be curious about the story behind another person’s beliefs. To practice what Adam Grant calls “confident humility”—holding our convictions while remaining genuinely open to learning from others.

Interestingly, part of the Cultivates Trust and Safety competency invites coaches to demonstrate openness and vulnerability themselves. Trust grows not from having the right answers, but from showing up fully human.

Our egos want to be the fixer. The expert. The one who knows. But trust is built when we lay those roles down. When we listen more than we speak. When we honor difference rather than fear it. When we partner instead of posture.

In this fragile moment in our nation—and in our churches and communities—cultivating trust and safety may be some of the holiest leadership work we can do. It’s not easy. But it is transformative. And it’s a skill that can be learned, practiced, and strengthened.

This is one of the gifts of coach training: it equips leaders not only to lead more effectively, but to become people who create spaces where others can breathe, think, grow, and be heard. If you find yourself longing to lead with greater trust, deeper listening, and more collaborative wisdom—especially in a divided world—I’d love to invite you to explore being trained as a coach.

Because when leaders learn to cultivate trust and safety, they don’t just change conversations. They change cultures.

Walking with you,
Vicki