me pantalones

2009-12-26T21:17:00.001-06:00

Kierkegaard said that anxiety is the dizziness of freedom. I think there's a lot of truth to that. We beg for freedom and do not imagine what we are truly asking for. We are asking for autonomy when what our heart wants is direction: what choice do we make? What will tomorrow bring? Should I?these questions drive some of us mad and we anxiously wish that God would simply move us like chess pieces; take the burden from our backs. Yet at once we push Him away with all ferocity, bristling at the idea that we need help. Man is a conundrum and often the child who is hungry but refuses to eat. I have no ultimate thought to sum this up, save that we should stop, breathe and relent.

2009-12-06T16:21:00.001-06:00

The matter is quite simple. The Bible is very easy to understand. But we Christians are a bunch of scheming swindlers. We pretend to be unable to understand it because we know very well that the minute we understand, we are obliged to act accordingly. Take any words in the New Testament and forget everything except pledging yourself to act accordingly. My God, you will say, if I do that my whole life will be ruined. How would I ever get on in the world? Herein lies the real place of Christian scholarship. Christian scholarship is the Church's prodigious invention to defend itself against the Bible, to ensure that we can continue to be good Christians without the Bible coming too close. Oh, priceless scholarship, what would we do without you?
- kierkegaard

A blank page

2009-10-23T00:08:00.000-05:00

A blank page. To me that is a fearful and wonderful thing. When I stare at a blank page I think about the work ahead of me. My mind is either brimming or bereft of ideas. I think of all the great writers who go before me and it sometimes feels as though what I have to give is but a pittance to their vast fortune of words. But I usually am not so afraid that I don’t begin scribbling out sentences and tapping out paragraphs. The wonder of it all kicks in and I am like my Father, a creator of things not there before.

There are very few things as satisfying to me as a good story. I often think of my life itself as a narrative. I think of the past characters who have informed my character: the faithful friends, the betrayers and deaths, the purple prose of past lovers. I ruled the world. I stood tall and the ground gave way so many times. Love soured to bitterness, friendships faded to shadowy memories and idiotic ideas of any semblance of control faded like some dreams, both from sleep and not.

I think of that story often. I go from chapter to chapter and pull out the bits that either condemn me or those whom I have fashioned as my enemies and I call it story. I’ve begun to see that now. Neither of these actions is healthy nor relate in any way to the relentless love that should be the theme of my story. I wade through life a tired, angry man weighed down by my own pride and judgment.

There was a time when my story and his story crossed. His story was so powerful that it altered mine forever. His prose was so much more poignant and, even though entire chapters seemed to be taking me in the wrong direction, destroying the heart of the story, I have seen, over and over, the symmetry of this new writer’s wisdom.

Once, in his story, he stood among a group of people and taught one hot, Middle Eastern day. I imagine rocks for seats in a dustbowl countryside, donkeys and camels parked here and there, sand-toned houses speckling the horizon, and the smell of foreign spices in the air. That’s what I see. But what I see is rarely fully true. But, in that spicy, humid air, God spoke. I know this for fact. He talked about building houses on sand and watching them fall in the raging storm. He spoke of firm foundations on the houses that might even be right next door, unmoved by the same forceful winds.

A blank page. To me that is a fearful and wonderful thing. When I think of the blank page, my heart races. I no longer live under the delusion that I am in control, but I still sometimes cling to the remains of the fantasy in my weaker moments. But the whole point of the blank page, a new foundation, is that because of this new author, I will stand. My life may be completely different than what I had planned. It may make use of every talent I have and fulfill all of my hopes and dreams, or God may build something completely different; something which my mind could not conceive, and like those chapters before that caused me fear when they were being written, the ones I feared would ruin it all, I might buck and strain against this plan. But, fears die in love, and I will see that his building is perfect and that’s all that matters.

I want to be there. I want to want what this master Author has to write for me, the life he wants to build on Him. Because, in the end, what He writes will be all that matters. And the past characters in the broader tale will watch me with anticipation, waiting to see what God will do.

The Worship Wars is silly and its mother dresses it funny.

2009-10-16T20:47:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine posted this link on Facebook and it's an excellent read by Ed Stetzer. I have no idea who the guy is, but this at least is worth the read.

A Family Affair

2009-10-06T15:47:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine is in a band and was at some churchy event recently and said that the MC stood up and said, “Okay, how many churches do we have here tonight?” My friend said that he was thinking, “Uh… one.” He then said that he looks forward to the day when that’s not taken as a sarcastic, clever remark and people really understand that we are one. THE Church of Jesus.

It’s true, you know. There may be thirty buildings in town that people call a church, but it just ain’t so. There’s not one holy brick in that place; not one piece of heavenly insulation in the ceiling. It’s the people, the people of God, his sons and daughters, his bride: we are the church—those who have accepted Jesus free gift of Salvation. And we are one—whether we like it or not.

So, why don’t we just give it up? The permanent smiles and the endless dreams of seventy-foot steeples. The lighted signs with the snappy one-liners and the tote boards full of numbers. Why don’t we just come out of our stained-glass worlds and be followers of Jesus—all of us. Together. Because you’re my brother and you’re my sister if you know Him. We’re family. We’re His Church. “If your heart is as my heart, give me your hand.”

We lied.

2009-09-28T22:39:00.001-05:00

We lied to you. We sat in church every Sunday and we sang our songs and read from our Holy Book and forgot that you were out there, lonely and alone. We brought you booklets telling you how far away from God you were but left you hungry and homeless. We told you how hot hell was going to be for you but never told you that you didn’t have to work your way to Jesus. We’re sorry.

We pushed you away with our self-righteousness and then blamed you for staying away. We said ‘I love you in the Lord,’ but we betrayed you by never showing you His face. We ignored your questions until you just stopped asking them, and then we said you had a hard heart. We were wrong.

We never looked in the mirror. We never thought that it could be us. Until now. Now we see. Now, we know that we are no better than you are. Now we know that we cannot change you and that we do not have to. We realize that if Jesus can change us, then we don’t have to stuff our religion down your throats. We hope our apology isn’t too late. We don’t always look like the God we serve. But don’t judge Him by us. It’s not about you and us. It’s about you and Him. So, go to Him. Ask God if He’s there. Ask Him to show you the Truth about this Jesus. Jesus is the only Truth we know. The only one that matters.

Sin & Union

2009-09-25T00:05:00.000-05:00

The Merry Monk of love--a friend of mine--wrote this. Enjoy. I did.

Don’t be afraid of sin. Look at it. Acknowledge its presence in your life. Own it.

See that? That’s your pride. That’s your envy. That’s your anger, laziness, greed, gluttony and lust. Admit that you love your sin, that you prefer your vices to God’s virtues.

Is this self-flagellation? Surrender to depravity? An attack on self-esteem? No, it’s the way to loving union with God.

However, it’s only that if you believe that the Father delights to honor his Son’s death by loving us and forgiving us of every nasty act, thought or omission. Then, a greater and greater degree of awareness of our sin leads to a greater and greater degree of awareness of God’s love for us. And awareness of his love draws you closer to him.

As you get closer to the light, you will see more of your filth. You may even despair and run to your vices for shelter and comfort. But, when your appetite for pain has been satiated, stare your sin down once again. Don’t deny that it’s yours, that you love it more than you love God.

Then, remember his great love for you. Remember you are welcome to enter the holy of holies because your elder brother Jesus has secured your adoption into the Family of God. Remember that you are free to color and play at the feet of your Father’s throne, to even crawl into his lap and fall asleep.

If you remember to remember, you will be drawn closer to him still. You will become obsessed with being in his presence. In his light you will see more of your sin and begin to approach it eagerly as the very path to your Father’s house.

When union with him comes, when you are clean and bright, shinning like the sun…you won’t even notice it. You will be too consumed by and obsessed with your Father’s love. Pride, the root of all sin, will find no good soil in you to grow into boasting of your light. Thereby, you will be free of its rotten fruit.

Finding Ourselves.

2009-09-14T00:37:00.000-05:00

I’ve been looking for myself. In that unsuccessful quest I have mostly found selfishness and disappointment. I’ve also found a lot of worry and fear. As you can probably guess, these aren’t exactly the things I was looking for. While I think that facing who you are is a noble effort, but only if you realize you can’t do anything about it—not without Jesus.

We’re always trying to figure out where we fit in this world. We want to know what our job should be or whatever, and say that this is our calling. I really don’t think what we do for a living is our calling. It’s a place God can use us, and where we can love and befriend others, but not our divine place in the world, not even for pastors. Jesus said that “whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Matt 16:24). That’s our calling as Christians, no matter who you are.

C.S. Lewis wrote, “Your real and new self (which is Christ’s and also yours, and yours just because it is His) will not come as long as you are looking for it. It will come when you are looking for Him.” There’s a lot of truth in that.

What we are killing ourselves looking for is usually pointless and will mean nothing in the grand scheme of things if it’s not Jesus. As a friend of mine wrote, “We all live in the quantum particles that only God can command, and for most of our lives we find ourselves awash in seeming random fortune. Only Order understands Itself, and in this still primordial pool, we mostly drown while trying to solve the problem of drowning by feverishly trying to improve the style of our Speedo.” In other words, the only way to keep from drowning in this thing we call life is to reach out for the Lifegiver.

Weenie Jesus

2009-09-07T23:28:00.000-05:00

I had the honor fairly recently to speak to a group of prisoners and what struck me about them the most was not the crimes they’d committed to get themselves in that situation. What struck me was the fact that they were just like me. They just got caught. I’ve never made Meth in my basement or robbed a mini-mart, but they’re no worse than I am. And that was such an amazing experience to be a part of. That church service was the most amazing one I’ve ever been a part of because I felt like nobody was wearing masks, they couldn’t. So, neither did I.

I used to write a newsletter some of you might have gotten called ‘The Weekly Chad.’ The title had nothing to do with my vanity, but rather with my stated intention of being as honest as I could possibly be about my own sin and failure to live up to who God wants me to be, because I often lie to myself. This, not as a means to seem humble, but as a means to give hope—show the redemption of Jesus that follows failure—because God seems to love a screw-up, and not many of us seem to be aware of that. I was reminded of this goal after that night in prison.

It troubles me that we don’t seem to believe in the power of redemption. We say, "I can be saved because, well, I’m not that bad of a human being. I only needed salvation in theory, and I’m past all that sin stuff, right?" Well, they’re making amazing advances in medicine for those experiencing delusions. In truth, we are all in need of redemption and we are all powerless sinners (without the freeing power of Jesus in us). If God cannot redeem Adolf Hitler or the Unabomber, then I certainly have no hope from such a weak Savior.

Some of us don’t mind visiting these poor souls, but we certainly don’t want them in our churches, or homes or bringing potato salad to our potlucks! If we do not recognize the power of God to change lives, we breed unbelief and psychologically weaken the image of God in those around us. So, stand up, admit that you’re a relentless sinner, and go. Go and love.

Successfully Failing

2009-09-05T17:39:00.000-05:00

I’ve thought a lot over the years about what success is. I am well versed in society’s idea of success. I understand well the intimations of the American dream. I know these things and yet they seem less and less real as I struggle with life’s meaning and my walk with God.

I picture that former fisherman, Peter—wild and irrepressible Peter—casting aside his nets and leaping from his boat, his livelihood, to become the follower of our Rabbi, Jesus. He fumbled with faith, even denying that he knew Jesus when the going got really tough. He and the other rag tag band of young nobodies held no equivalent to a PhD, (save Paul, perhaps) and yet they, the weak things of this world, were chosen to share the most special of gifts: the Truth.

I know what I was led to believe was strong. But perhaps it is the weak that we should ponder. The idea of spiritual success flowering from weakness boggles our minds and shatters our egos. Isn’t success scholarship and more and more people. Isn’t it bigger buildings and published articles; titles and respect. I believed that for a while. I was enamored with the idea of having what I believed to be tangible means by which to gauge God’s pleasure with me. I thought that if I preached well enough and pleased the right people, I would advance. My resume would flourish and I could move on to bigger and better—obviously more Godly—things.

When those tempting thoughts come back to me, I usually think of Jesus standing before ten thousand people and speaking a hard Truth to them. It was the Truth that we dance around and dress up. It was the truth that one must eat the flesh and drink the blood of Christ if we are to follow Him; he must be our sustenance alone. It was too much for a crowd that had mostly come for free food and the chance to see a miracle or two. Jesus had success the way we currently often define it for a gleaming moment and watched it walk away. He was left with only the Twelve. He asked if they would leave too. Peter spoke up and said, “Where else would we go? Only you have Truth.” They understood. Only those few. And they changed the world.

I wonder if we think God will ask us what our average attendance was when we stand before Him. I wonder if we believe God’s pleasure in us truly resides on how dynamic our service was. Perhaps it simply lies in dying to ourselves and the world’s standards of success. Perhaps success is simply following God. Perhaps the most successful Christian in the world, in God’s eyes, is one who never seeks their own, or glory or authority or honor or large groups of followers. Perhaps that person is simply someone who honestly seeks God and has a heart that is pointed toward Him. Maybe that person that we think of as the last one in the world God is ‘blessing’ will be first.

So, I believe there’s a strong possibility that we should redefine some terms. Maybe we have put too much emphasis on how and what we do and lost sight of our first love. Maybe success isn’t numbers in some excel spreadsheet and square feet in a building. Success just might be being faithful with what God has given you and living in the deep love He gives.

Agnostic Thoughts, part 6

2009-09-05T14:47:00.000-05:00

I think I can sum up my friend’s questions with a simple question of my own: “What is the difference between Truth and Religion?” Well, in short, religion says get in line and march, Truth invites you to the dance of life. Religion likes control and success, Truth rejoices in love and freedom. Religion sucks the life out of you by demanding more than you can possibly give, but Truth (That's Jesus) says that His burden is easy and light.

All of the questions my friend asked or alluded to are quite common questions. That’s not a mark against him, it’s a mark against us—because we’ve created an environment of religion that produces such questions, just not good ones. We’ve picketed, judged, harassed and simply annoyed our way right out of relevance in many cases. Often, the only reason people still care is, frankly, because of Truth. Jesus has a way of whispering in your ear and tapping you on the shoulder even when there isn’t a flesh and blood witness around.

You see, there’s an utter and complete difference between a new life in Jesus and religion. If someone came up to you and proclaimed that four plus four is nine then you’d think that person was somewhat of a wacko, even if they had books and literature to back it up. It just doesn’t ring true. Something similar happens in the Church sometimes. A lot of people are close to the Truth, but they’ve skewed the message. They may have slanted it by inserting politics or a certain theology or just what they wish that it said, but it’s still got something about it which just doesn’t ring true. That’s because it isn’t—not completely. The problems that my friend has are, honestly, many of the same problems I have. But, they are not with biblical Christianity or with God. They are with a culturalized version of the faith which, unlike Truth, is quite often silly and superficial.

Now, I don’t pretend to think that I’ve answered every question my friend, or you, may have about the Christian faith with these few short essays. What I truly want people to understand is that we, even at our best, are a poor image of our Father. If you’ve experienced anything other than acceptance, love and Truth then I can safely report to you that you were lied to. I can also safely report to you that you won’t find a person or a group that will always love, accept and give truth, because we’re just as messed up as you are. But, love should be what we are known for; love should be our heart’s desire as followers of Jesus. Good news though, God loves the messed up.

Agnostic Thoughts, part 5

2009-09-03T18:57:00.000-05:00

One of the things my friend said to me was that, “a lot of what I have heard in church is scripted or redundant. Just because the book is a gazillion years old does not mean new ideas cannot spawn from it?” Some Christians might initially chafe at that comment. But, I don’t think he’s saying what you think he’s saying if you disagree with him. What I don’t believe he’s saying is that we can make this thing more exciting if we fudged a little. What I do believe he might be saying is that we’ve lost our sense of wonder in God.

I’ve said before that I felt like, growing up in church, that I heard the same ten sermons over and over. While that, of course, is an exaggeration, I really don’t think I’m being too unfair. Quite often a church, or its pastor, will get on a hobby-horse about one particular topic and ride that sucker until it dies. The Bible is so chock full of truthy goodness that it’s difficult to make it boring, but somehow thousands of churches manage to do just that every Sunday.

Often, the reason Scripture may seem monotonous is because we treat it as though it were simply an academic exercise with little, if any, application given. I’m not sure how many times I’ve seen religious folks give their credentials after they spout off some personal belief as if that’s supposed to automatically make them right. Education is a fine thing, but when being respected for the facts one knows becomes more important than the realities of the truths themselves, something’s very wrong.

More than forty people, over thousands of years, wrote the sixty-six books that make up the bible, and yet it is a single, clear message about Jesus. Even if you don’t believe a word of it is spiritually inspired there are basic life-truths present there that are amazing. Yet, millions of people will sit silently listening to another message about the same old things they did the week before. Those things may even be true, but they’re not the whole truth. And even if we give real-live truth without love, those facts tend to cease to be true. That’s because Jesus presented without love is not Jesus at all. Which leads me to my final thoughts… next time.

Agnostic Thoughts, part 4

2009-09-02T22:51:00.000-05:00

My friend goes on to say, “when [Christians] describe all these feelings you are supposed to have and you are sitting there realizing that you are without them, you feel alienated from the church. Like you are not part of the group that Jesus died for.”

We sometimes make it seem like it’s always sunny in Christian-land; that you always have a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach and that this silly life thing is a breeze because we know Jesus. Well, if someone tells you that, I wouldn’t buy a used car from them. I guess we think that if we make it sound like following Jesus is the spiritual equivalent of winning the lottery and dating a supermodel then surely everyone will want to join the club. But, that’s manipulative and, quite honestly, it just doesn’t work. It makes people feel like they just aren’t good enough to go to God. Well, truth be told, you aren’t. But neither are we, but God will let you come anyway because of Jesus’ sacrifice.

Listen to how David, whom God called the apple of his eye, felt sometimes in his relationship with God in Psalms 13: “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?”

Even in a Christian’s life, God can seem far away at times. But there’s hope, listen to how David closes out this song: “But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me.”

Sometimes you’re made to feel as if you are somehow not as good a person as those who tell you about Jesus. That’s a lie. We are all in need of forgiveness, hope, reunion with our Father and Creator. That’s where faith comes into the equation. God became man, taking the penalty for our sins to give us that ultimate hope. He spanned that gulf we have between us and God. All it takes is an acceptance of that Truth, in faith, to have it eternally.

Agnostic Thoughts, part 3

2009-09-01T21:19:00.002-05:00

I have believed—either because of faulty or culturally biased teaching—at various times in my life that religion was about being good, keeping rules, pretending to be happy all the time, harassing those who don’t believe and fifty other neurotic and confused ideas. What I found was that the Christian faith is not about any of those things. It is about a loving Father who was separated from his beloved children and gave up everything to get us back.

Once we personally decide to turn to Him, He doesn’t suddenly make us incapable of sin (He forgives us completely) [“God casts our sin as far as the east is from the west.” Ps 103:11-12], or give us a long list of moral dos and don’ts (He changes us through His love) [“The love of Christ compels us.” 2 Cor: 5:14]. He simply is glad to welcome home another son or daughter. And the love we receive from Him then compels us to go and tell others that they can come home too. That’s it.

In short, being a follower of Jesus doesn’t mean that I’m better than anyone else. (in fact, I’m probably worse than you.) [“he who says he is without sin is a liar.” 1 Jn: 1] It doesn’t mean I’ve got it all together, am never down, or never a jerk, or sin (a lot). It simply means that I have found life’s Purpose. I’m not some role-model who proudly stands, spine straight, to tell you how you can be all healthy, wealthy and wise like me. [cf. Rom 7:18-19] Nah, I’m just a beggar telling other beggars where I found bread.

My agnostic buddy opined that if Christians would be a little more honest about our imperfections and doubts then maybe unbelievers would feel more of the tug of this endless quest for a meaningful existence. I couldn’t agree more. I suck (a lot). I’m not proud of that, nor do I want to stay that way, but it’s quite often true. I don’t have all the answers and, quite frankly, neither does anyone else. But, what we have is meaning and a deep love and forgiveness that we’ve never known before—something which we still need just as much as you do.

Interesting...

2009-08-31T17:27:00.001-05:00

"What we’ve said and written is fine. What we’ve lived in our homes, private lives, churches, workplaces and friendships has spoken louder.

We are the ones who appear to not believe in the God we say is real. We are the ones who seem to be forcing ourselves to believe with bigger shows, bigger celebrities and bigger methods of manipulation."

-imonk
http://www.internetmonk.com/archive/reatheism

Agnostic Thoughts, part 2

2009-08-31T16:43:00.001-05:00

Before we really get into answering the points my friend raised, I think the topic of questioning needs to be addressed. Why do we get so scared when people question the reality of God like my friend did last time? Why do we get so defensive and angry if we believe this is true? As a guy I know often says: “I wouldn’t get mad if someone told me my mother didn’t exist.” So, what’s up? Truth is, questions are a good thing. Because real questions lead to real answers. Twenty something years into my faith and I still have big questions I wrestle with.

Many people out there don’t find it easy to believe, or even probable that, there is a great, invisible Creator just out of sight who became a man and died in our place. We should never talk to a person who is seeking as if belief should be easy or as if we can intellectualize or badger anyone into the faith. In his situation, my friend felt intellectually and emotionally ignored at the very least, and talked down to at most, in his experience with the church. That should never be so. We should always be encouraging and sensitive to those who are seeking truth.

Listen, God honors seekers (Jeremiah 29:13: “When you look for Me with all your heart, you will find Me.”). We either trust God or we don’t as his followers. God is able to answer the hard questions, but we want to take that task on ourselves. I can be there for someone and speak Truth in love but, ultimately, it is God who will have to prove His existence to someone, and we’ve got to trust Him with that.

Are we afraid God won’t show if we encourage someone to seek Him? It’s either true or it’s not. If it’s not, we are most pitiable. But, I guarantee that those who go to Him, seeking, won’t come back empty handed, because I’ve been there and he doesn’t disappoint. One might reject the truth once he sees it, but that truth is still there, resonating against the questions our hearts cry out to be answered. So, if you’re seeking, feel free to doubt and question. God’s big enough to take it.

Agnostic Thoughts, part 1

2009-08-30T14:20:00.002-05:00

I was talking with a friend of mine not too long ago, who happens not to be a follower of Jesus, and I asked him what kept him away. This is what he told me (and I quote, with his permission):

“I think churches and preachers just expect that everyone in the audience of their church has a strong relationship with God. And they expect everyone to take their messages in and believe them. But a lot of what I have heard in church is scripted or redundant. Just because the book is a gazillion years old does not mean new ideas cannot spawn from it? Churches need to realize that there are people in their church that are not totally “convinced” or do not have a strong relationship. And they should have sermons that address the needs of this “seeing is believing” generation of people. Especially in today’s world where it’s hard to know what to believe. These weak relationships isolate people from God and the whole point of the church is to bring them closer. Churches seem to have made Sunday service a routine nap when they could be stimulating people’s minds to investigate their copy of the #1 bestselling novel on their own. Honestly I don’t think God speaks to any person more or less than another. So I think if preachers could show their vulnerability or that they don’t know all the answers either, then maybe people would feel more a part of this endless quest for a meaningful existence. But when they describe all these feelings you are supposed to have and you are sitting there realizing that you are without them, you feel alienated from the church. Like you are not part of the group that Jesus died for.”

I think it’s important that we listen to those who don't believe and are seeking answers. Sometimes how they see us may have more truth to it than we would like to think. Over the next several posts, I'm going to try to answer some of my friend's questions, and hopefully the questions of others who find themselves in the same place he does.

A Marketplace of Ideas.

2009-08-30T14:15:00.001-05:00

An acquaintance of mine put out a booklet that tackled the question of why some Christians are so mean. His premise was one with which I agree in content. His argument was, in short, that we Christians believe we have an all-important Truth and we want to protect that Truth and make sure everyone else believes it. Of course, getting angry about that is silly, but it’s probably a good reason why it happens. Sometimes, Believers get angry at beliefs which ‘challenge’ their own. To me, that’s also silly. I believe in a marketplace of ideas. That is to say, that people believe all sorts of things and they have every right to believe in all sorts of things. Obviously, all beliefs can’t be true. So, you have the right to be wrong as much as you have the right to be right. But, the important thing is to never stop asking the right questions. This is a free forum in which, I hope, we can discuss what’s being said here, no matter what your beliefs. Whether you believe in God or not, it’s an important question to ask. Whether you believe in God or not, it is well worth your while to stop and ask what you might believe to be the empty ether, “God, if you’re there, show me.”

Hmm...

2009-08-28T23:52:00.002-05:00

I believe that in our religious culture we have come to believe that we are somehow higher on the food chain than your average "sinner." We forget about that whole 'saved by grace' thing and don't enter into the rich lives of those made in His Image who have not found Him (God) yet. So, over the course of the next week or so I'm going to post a series of essays i wrote in response to a great friend of mine who happens to be agnostic. I love my friend dearly--whether he eventually ever believes or not (although i hope he does)--and found this exchange very rewarding. Hope you tune in.

More Thoughts on Leadership: A short post that will most likely be misunderstood. (-:

2009-08-28T23:03:00.011-05:00

In my schooling, I’m learning that there’s an interesting relationship that takes place between a therapist and a patient. A therapist does not have authority over the patient’s life. If he did, that would engender a very unhealthy relationship. The therapist’s job, as I understand it, is to help the patient learn to better deal with their own issues. They are not to become the patient’s crutch so that every time a problem arises, they must run back to them. Rather they are to be a gentle teacher, giving guidance where necessary in the patient’s journey and tools to deal with current and future problems.

I recently read Matthew 23 and verses 7-10 say something very interesting, “[The Pharisees] love to sit at the head table at church dinners, basking in the most prominent positions, preening in the radiance of public flattery, receiving honorary degrees, and getting called 'Doctor' and 'Reverend.' Don't let people do that to you, put you on a pedestal like that. You all have a single Teacher, and you are all classmates. Don't set people up as experts over your life, letting them tell you what to do. Save that authority for God; let him tell you what to do. No one else should carry the title of 'Father'; you have only one Father, and he's in heaven. And don't let people maneuver you into taking charge of them. There is only one Life-Leader for you and them—Christ.”

I hope I was never that bad when I was a pastor, but I know a lot of guys who are pretty far down that road. By the way, this isn’t a ‘hey, let’s tear down pastors’ essay, it’s just a look at some of the things that I think are going on in the church that don’t get looked at publicly very often. If anything, if taken prayerfully and seriously, it can be a great help to both congregations and pastors. Also, while we’re digressing, all my posts won’t be about pastors, or even religion, this is just where my mind’s at, at the moment. With all that said, it’s interesting to read that paraphrase of those verses in Matthew and be shocked (well, I am) at how that goes against everything I was taught on what being a leader was all about.

I think the role of therapist and pastor (while obviously different in content and methodology) are similar in role. The pastor, as Jesus said, isn’t supposed to be on some pedestal or even the purveyor of all truth—“You all have a single teacher” (that’s Jesus, in case you weren’t sure.) Nor is a pastor supposed to be looked upon as some life or religious expert. (That’s putting undo pressure on one person, and quite unrealistic.) Nobody has it all together and nobody knows all the answers. Nobody. Your pastor lusts, gets angry, fights with their spouse, has problems with their kids, smells bad sometimes, and even poops! That passage in Matthew says it best: “you are all classmates.” Like the aforementioned therapist, (and I know some religious types will get their undies in a wad just for being compared to a therapist.) a pastor is simply someone whose gift is that of giving guidance and help down the road of life. That’s respectable, and it’s a hard, draining gift to have that God said deserves some pay (and that doesn’t imply ownership or authority by the congregation, by the way, but that’s another post.)

My point is this: a person with the spiritual gift of pastoring or teaching is not god, nor should they be placed in a position where they always have some final say in your decisions. They have a gift (like you) and that gift should be respected when it is being used wisely. We are all responsible for our own faith. You have a gift. Use it. No gift is better than another. No body part is more important than another. And ain’t none of us the head. Except Jesus. Thank God.

Thoughts on leadership.

2009-08-26T19:53:00.001-05:00

In the church, we kind of have this idea of leadership that correlates, quite often directly, with a business model. The general consensus is that leaders in the church are to be powerful, play from their strengths and keep everything in order. This may seem reasonable at first blush, but those simple words speak to, frankly, pride and an overwhelming workload which no one man can handle.

From a congregational standpoint, pastors are to have everything together, and carry the weight of an entire group of people on our shoulders. Often that weight is too much for the person carrying it, but because there is a title and a paycheck (and maybe a 401k) involved, our shoulders are somehow broader, our faith somehow greater than your normal follower of Christ. This just isn't so. It is this type of thinking in our religious culture to leads to such overwhelming demands being placed on a pastor. The church's sin in how they treat a pastor is another blog, but how that affects us is important to understand.

In my experience (and I've known my share of pastors and, heck, even been one) pastors feel as though they have to put on a mask of professional spiritualism. For instance, while a normal, nice person wouldn't want to offend, some pastor's take this to a neurotic level, scared of their own thoughts. Any ideas of taking chances are blocked by the fear that comes from 'what people might think.' ‘Be annoyingly nice’ becomes our mantra; it is the code by which we live our lives. We go from being individuals with our own thoughts, doubts and lives to polished, overly nice robots built to amaze and be fixed and blindly followed by confused congregations. We become an idol, in a way. But, instead of rejecting this sort of treatment, we fear losing it—relating it to our success as a leader. We begin to fear our sin. Some of us even come up with fancy ways to finagle the Scriptures or rename our sin so that it fits into our new, improved role in the sacred body. Of course, I describe these few examples in the worst possible case scenario to make a point, but I promise you even that's not far from reality for a lot of people.

It's interesting to me that in I Timothy, after Paul has given this long list of horrible sins, he follows it up by saying that he is (present tense) the chief of all sinners. That's humility. It's also, I believe where all good 'leadership' starts. It begins with knowledge that the playing field is level. It begins with a deep, heart-knowledge that you and I are the terrible sinners in need of a Savior. That should mar any highfalutin image we have about ourselves being something more than a follower of Jesus; someone who is more spiritual or have some special revelation from God that can only be shared by you, as leader. In short, with leadership must come the deepest kind of humility: one that rejects any idea that you are somehow better (or even different) than others.

Frankly, we shouldn't care if speaking Truth gets us fired, or if we offend when the Truth is spoken in love (notice that ‘in love’ part, that’s important). It's going to happen. People are neurotic, and more telling, we are sinners. Sin does not like to be revealed. Jesus was pretty transparent when he warned that if people hated him they would hate us. We also see that a lot of that hate came from the religious community; the religious professionals (Ahem. You be careful out there).

Dan Allender says something interesting about a phenomena that I have been 'feeling' for years, but never quite been able to voice. He speaks about that pressure to perform, to be someone other than yourself, especially when you are a leader. He posits that this leads to a dual life. "Who I am before you, I know I am not behind your back. And so the discrepancy, that sense of contradiction, I think is an acid that eventually literally tears away at the very fabric of faith for most leaders."

He goes on to say, "I think if you were to peer into many leader's hearts, they remember believing. They remember the first love. But in one sense, the posturing has so eroded something of their own capacity to be real and to be alive…that they've become somewhat robotic and certainly distant. And that kind of leadership never is a person that you would want to deeply follow."

Do we believe, truly, that this is what God had in mind for the Church? Men and women playing the part of the faithful Spiritual Leader who often does not have permission to be the person God has formed them in to? I believe we let the body of Christ down when we are not that person. We each, all of us, have something of Christ to share in us that no one else does. No one has lived the lives that we have lived with God. No one has had the exact same experiences from the exact same perspective as we have. We can give the gifts of our personalities and our Stories, or we can play the religious game and become something we were never meant to be—a caricature of a religious person.

It’s not easy to give up that mask. But that’s a topic for another time…