The Starting Point

By the end of this week, Donald Trump will be the President of the United States of America. What a surreal moment that will be. I actually had a dream about his inauguration last night, which tells me something about how much I am thinking about political things.

I haven’t really thought much about Mr. Trump prior to recent years. I remember watching one or two episodes of The Apprentice, and realizing that it wasn’t my thing. I don’t really care for “reality tv” at all, but I mean that the attitudes and behaviors of the show weren’t my thing. The episode I remember watching included two tasked with getting more people to call a phone number than the other team. The team that won used the only megaphones available in New York City, which the other team had reserved – they simply showed up at the store and claimed to be the other team. This was praised! As I watched, I recognized that I didn’t have what it took to be successful in that world; I don’t have that willingness to do anything to win. It seems that is what it takes to be successful, not only in “The Donald’s” world, but in the church world as well.

Since the election, I have actually been pretty excited about a Trump presidency. Not so much for him, but for the people he is assembling for his cabinet. For the most part, they are very successful people. To be sure, there are a few ideological bones thrown in for Conservatives, but his focus has primarily been on who he thinks has 1) a proven track record of success, 2) great likely-hood to be successful in the future, and 3) the greatest ability to help him be successful as well. I am really excited about some of his choices (blown away that he has made those choices, in fact), but I am also quite aware of how different I am to those people. Just as with The Apprentice, thinking about these cabinet picks reminds me that I am not the type of person who would be selected for such a thing in 20 years or so.

I don’t have a successful track record. I have pastored two churches and seen them both reduced in population, energy, outreach, and budget through my time as pastor. Maybe we will turn things around, maybe we won’t; but I can’t claim to be successful in ways that people outside looking in would acknowledge. Just as was the case when I went to boot camp, I am not the person making Honor Recruit, which I would have very much liked to have been. That position went to our guidon. Instead, I became a platoon clown, of sorts. In Seminary, I would have very much liked to have been one of the six students picked to preach in chapel at the end of the year, felt myself competitive in that sense, and saw myself not even be considered. Not quite the All Star I want to be.

The one time I was an All Star, and this is going back to when I was 10, I played on an All Star soccer team that won first place in a tournament! I was our star goalie and played a pivotal role in helping us beat the B Travelling Team for our area; a mean feat, I assure you. But when the tournament came, I played one game. While warming up for the second game, I jammed a finger trying to catch a ball and basically wussed out of the rest of the tournament because I was afraid of letting the team down. I didn’t know if I had what it would take to play hurt. I was equally good in the field, and could have helped in any other position, but the coach kept me on the bench for the rest of the weekend. That was a failure that stays with me.

So, I know I’m not the kind of person that Trump, and most people today (whether believers or not, for that matter) respect and want around them. We want success. We want to know that we will be considered to be cool if we sit at your table. Oh sure, there are friends who are glad to be with you and to know you, but they are few and far between. As I write, I am thinking about the church culture; it is hard to draw a crowd if you’re not cool, and I’m not cool.

What I am, however, is sincere. I am also romantic, not in a lovey-dovey way, but in an ideological way. I guess you could say that I am sincerely romantic. I want the good guy to get the girl at the end. I want love to triumph. I want the scrappy losers to win!

True story: I was never the “coolest” kid at school, but I was in the top five. At recess, if we were choosing teams, I was either one of the first kids chosen or one of the kids choosing. My teams stood a good chance of winning, just so long as we played kickball, football, dodgeball, soccer, tag, or anything other than basketball. When basketball came into the picture, I could help, but I couldn’t deliver victory. Still, this one time, I was one of the first two kids to make a free throw (fluke event, less common than a stopped watch being right) and be a team captain by my right of conquest. As we went to choosing teams, the other captain went with the strong players. I started with my best friend then went absolutely nuts and started selecting guys that I liked but who were usually relegated to the end of the selection process. I fielded the weakest team ever assembled in recess history. Having been promised by Hollywood that this was a surefire way to succeed, I expected great things from this ragtag team of misfits. We were slaughtered. But, at least I felt good about myself that day; those guys never got chosen so early. As I think back on it, I realize that was part of my motivation. Maybe I had an ulterior motive, maybe I knew we would lose, so I might as well go out in style. One thing is sure; I know how to go down in flames!

That is where I am today, going down in flames. I recognize that I have mostly failed throughout my life. I haven’t meant to; in fact, I’ve tried really hard to succeed, but I’ve failed. Yet, this failure is exactly where I do succeed. I succeeded the day I chose the “lasts” to be first. Maybe all that King James Only Fundamentalist Baptist schooling did me some good. Similarly, I succeed when I counsel a person who has failed, because I’m able to offer understanding (even if I don’t understand their exact situation) due to my personal experience with failure. I suppose the posh way of saying it is that it gives me empathy. Yeah, I think it does; and I find that other people see it as well. I think that is why a pastor who is struggling might find me a more welcome counselor than the more successful pastors around us, because I actually understand, not just the struggle, but the failure at the end. My failure has made me more understanding of other’s struggles, and it is what I have to offer.

Unfortunately, I'm not very good at communicating this with other people. When I came to EMBC, I set out to see if you could lead a community of believers to live out the Christian walk without guilt, pressure, or other coercions usually employed by religious leaders. I wanted to see if you could be a church where God mattered, not just our programs; to be a church body, not a minister and his minions. Sadly, many people walked out on this, either because I didn't give enough structure, didn't move the way they were moving, or flat out because they were too comfortable with guilt and coercion that they didn't recognize God without it. What is also sad, is how often I have doubted God along the way, because it looks like absolute failure! Well, it’s time to turn that around. Just like that day when I went crazy on the basketball court, I’m going for broke today for the romantic ending. No, not the “guy and girl walk off into the sunset” ending; the romantic ending where the last are first, where God does build His church, and where losers get crowns.

Now’s the time to pick myself off the ground, again, for the umpteenth time, just so I can see how long it takes me to go down in flames.

The High Water Low Point

Well, okay, maybe God hasn’t done it; but I definitely feel done.

I feel what God has done is allowed me to get to a low place where I am out of options and finally willing to do those things that I didn’t want to do. I am generally honest and willing to get to the nitty-gritty, but I have put that on hold as a pastor because there isn’t usually much left once you’ve burned the bridges, which my conversations usually tend to do. Feeling that my natural tendencies are not what “most pastors” do, I have practiced the art of holding my tongue (my family members just spewed coffee on their keyboards). No, it’s true, at least as it sits with church stuff.

It’s one of the reasons why I haven’t been able to write here. It has also made it very hard to write my Pastor’s Ponderings for the church e-letter, because I want to talk about the real problems we face but know that it will upset many of the members. Where I’m at now, I’m willing to speak openly about what I see going on because I’ve got nothing left.

I went through a really rough time this past fall; shoot, I’m still going through it. The church’s health is headed down, it needs leadership in areas where I am a failure, and I increasingly feel as if I am a drag instead of a boost. To put it succinctly, not only do I think there are several people in the church that don’t want me as their pastor, but those who do are unwilling to follow my leadership. On top of that, I haven’t got a very good track record of convincing new people to join us, either. What can you do in that situation?

Lots of things, I suppose; but I started looking at the possibility of getting a job. That way, I could stop being a drag on the church. This is actually a two-fold idea. On the one hand, it frees up funds to bring in some of the help we need in areas I am failing. The other hand is that it takes a big pressure off of me and allows me to keep the church being a church instead of a corporation. You see, the big struggle for me in the church is that my family’s livelihood is wrapped up in it. I’m trusting God, through these fine people, to keep a roof over my head and food on my table. I can’t sell more widgets to make ends meet, I have to rely on people wanting to be a part of this fellowship and then being willing to support the operation of the church, of which I am quite a large portion (and becoming a larger share of the budget over the years). Someone recently derided me as “living the dream.” I would say it is a dream’s evil twin.

It is this pressure that causes pastors to start hawking the goods and crafting the programs to get more people to buy into our brand, to be a part of what we are doing. Does any of that sound like Jesus? Oh, how wonderful it would be if I wasn’t dependent on the church for my livelihood! Then, we could live like believers together, not the pyramid scheme that masquerades as modern-day evangelism.

So, I went looking. Know what I discovered? I’ve got nothing to offer. Well, what I mean is this: what I do have to offer is not wanted. I don’t see it advertised out there, at least. That led me to some introspection, to asking what it was that I did have to offer. In the end, I am left with two things: an ability to talk and a track record of failure. The longer I thought about it, the more I realized that my failure is actually the source of what success I have experienced lately, and the best thing of myself that I have to offer. Of course, I didn’t get to that uplifting idea without getting pretty low first, which is the broken part of this whole thing.

The Breaking Point

I remember my pastor in college, Tommy Nelson of Denton Bible Church, saying something along the lines of “before God can use a man, He must first break him.” I suppose it might have been original, or he might have been paraphrasing AW Tozer, or I might have misrepresented what he really said. It doesn’t matter. I remember the sensation I received when he said whatever he said, and I remember the thoughts I have continued to have since he said it. My basic sensation was of dread; I was afraid of this statement because I was a man who wanted to be used by God, but I didn’t know if I really wanted to be broken by God.

This statement, of being broken by God, comes across piously. We sing about being broken, we talk about being broken – about bring our brokenness to God, and we generally do it with all the warmth and emotion of a Sunday school discussion. But being broken is not just an emotional change or a slight humbling of our spirit, it is destruction. Most people don’t know what it is to be broken, but I do. I was broken in 1995.

1995 was the year I joined the Marine Corps. I had such great dreams about who I would be as a Marine. I dreamed about being one of the take charge guys – a squad leader or the guidon. Then, it got real. The guidon and squad leaders got thrashed for the things other guys did. I was having enough trouble with myself; I didn’t really want to get that kind of notoriety.

On top of that, I had these ideas about esprit de corps and helping the other recruits – encouraging them and driving them on. We had a fat guy that was miserable, and I stayed with him and encouraged him to run during our first Physical Fitness Test. We crossed the finish line of the run and he wrapped his arms around me in gratitude. Awhile later, we were both in the duty hut being chewed out by our DI who wanted to know if we were queer - it was still illegal back then. I don’t remember much about the interchange; other than he asked us what our fathers would have thought and was actually flummoxed when I suggested my dad wouldn’t have a problem with what transpired. I do remember that I gave that recruit a wide birth from then on, and that I put my romanticized ideas of esprit de corps on hold until we actually were Marines – don’t perform low on account of these guys just yet!

The physical break happened at Camp Pendleton during the down time - on a Sunday, I believe. We were being thrashed and our DI had us doing modified push-ups with our butts about a foot higher in the air. This caused intense pain in my back, especially when we would remain still in the up position. I kept shifting and shifting until a DI kicked me out of the formation for not doing the push-ups properly (I was practically doing toe-touches I had scooted my hands so close to my feet). Even now, writing this, my back is hurting from the tension I am feeling. I wasn’t alone in being called out of formation, and so joined the other guys who were already moving a pile of sandbags. It was simple: we relocated this massive pile of sandbags, one at a time, at a run. Back and forth, back and forth. Then, when the pile was moved, we had to bring it back. The rest of the platoon was relieved from the push-ups in about five minutes and back in the squad bay in about ten. We didn’t get back till much later. Funny thing - I preferred that tiresome work of running those sandbags back and forth to even five seconds more of those push-ups.

By the time I graduated boot camp, I really didn’t feel like much of a Marine. We had been broken down, as promised, but I never really felt like I was put back together. I was still scared of doing the wrong thing, popping up when I should duck, and speaking when I shouldn’t or not speaking when I should. There were a lot more failures during that training, many times that I was chewed out, whether I earned it or not. There were times when my true colors shined through, like the time a DI was telling us what was going to happen and I jokingly breathed, “Oh, sh*t.” and he heard it! “That’s right! Just one ‘Oh Sh*t’ ruins the whole bushel.” I don’t think he knew who said it, but I don’t think it matters; it didn’t say anything about him, only about me. I guess my 8th grade Home Room teacher was right, I was a class clown.

So, getting back to God and me, I feel like I know something about being broken, and I had enough fun doing it with DI’s and would rather not discover what games God had in store. This is especially true because I had a hunch that I was stubborn enough to need a lot of breaking. I think I was right. I also think He’s finally done it.

Small Church Temperament

"Eureka!" Well, not exactly; maybe "Amen" might be a better statement.  A blog I check in with regularly (the author of which posts faithfully, so checking in regularly is actually needed), http://newsmallchurch.com, recently listed the 6 types of small church pastors he has encountered the most. After I read through the list, I went back and settled on number 2, the pastor who is in a small church due to temperament.

Eureka! There appears to be a kind of drive that causes a person to skip from one church to another, looking for bigger things. There is a similar kind of drive that causes a person to work toward making their church bigger. The drive seems to have very little to do with caring about the people, and more to do with caring about people in general and big numbers/prestige in particular. In both situations, the goal is the larger, and the smaller churches or the people who come are simply the means to the end. I've never been able to master this attitude, so I assume I am consigned to pastoring a smaller church.  Amen.

You see, it isn't just about quiet, small gatherings over crowds that gives me a small church temperament. In fact, I would love to preach to larger groups. I might even have the right disposition for it, as one of my earliest mentors in seminary discerned that I would probably be happiest as a larger church pastor, acting, in his words, as a rancher instead of a shepherd. He was probably right. But, oh, what you have to do to get there! How you must treat people when they are a means to an end. Difficult or nonconforming members are viewed as chaff and deadweight, and conforming members are tools to be used for the pastor's, I mean the church's, own benefit. Life within the church becomes the criteria by which a person is judged to be living faithfully. Not based on how well they live for Jesus or how they work or treat their family, but on what they are doing in and for the church. Oh sure, Jesus is still mentioned, but He is the reason to serve or the reason we are drawn together; the focus subversively rests on the church. There is very little room for dying to yourself or taking up your cross and following Jesus when you are working on building your brand for a greater impact.

Please know that I am not against the Holy Spirit doing a great work. In fact, I long to see it. I suppose my struggle is the question of what is the work of the Holy Spirit and what is man's effort? It seems we are surrounded by man's effort. Oh, what I wouldn't give for something that we couldn't doubt, that we could tell is truly of God. He did it with Elijah and Gideon. He did it with Moses. But, there are also times when we are not so sure. The great acts of David's mighty men, did God do them? David's victory over Goliath - probably just David's skill and his willingness to fight for God's honor. Much like faith, maybe the great works are not so much either/or, but both. God and man, working in and through man.

I guess I just wish God's work didn't have to be done in a way that treated people so horribly; a way that told them they weren't needed if they didn't fit into a certain system. The fun (and maddening) thing about a small church is that you can't dictate the pegs based on the holes. You receive what pegs come your way, there aren't enough to be choosy. Then, you build holes based on the pegs. Generally they're square pegs, not as cool as the round ones, but sturdy and stable. A large church can say, "we need 5 round pegs," and they can overlook the square ones that don't fit. A small church says, "I'll help you find a place, and I'll make you a place if need be."

Even this analogy leaves me cold, because people aren't pegs, and there is more to a person than what they can do in a church. And as long as I believe that, I'll probably be pastoring a small church.

Who Cares?

No, this is not a cry for help, no attempt to get someone to say, "Don't jump!  I care!"  I know who cares in my life.  I am doing great.

This is about my inability to write.  In the end, my motivation drops because, really, who cares?  I have participated on Facebook, but these days I just don't bother.  I don't really care about your horn toots, why should you care about mine?  In fact, can I say that I am sick of your horn toots?

"LifeGroup meeting tonight!  These people really want to grow in God!"

Woopty friggin' do.  I guess you're really religious if you caption it on Facebook.

"I voted today; it feels so good!"

Seriously?  Can't you just vote and go about your day without the selfie and note?  If someone asks you if you voted, feel free to tell them, but why the voluntary admission?  My all time favorite is when a pastor will tweet or post, "Great time at church today," or, "Love worshipping with my church family."  To me, that's like a chef saying, "Wow, what amazing lasagna I made tonight."  Or a director talking about how great an experience making a film was.  I'll notice if a grip says it was great, the director seems to be tooting his own horn.

Fortunately, I don't have any friends or acquaintances who divulge more intimate information.  No "I had a massive dump a minute ago, thought I'd never stop wiping," or "I've got the best wife in the whole world, she really brought it last night," shows up in my newsfeed.  If they ever do, I am cancelling my account; someone else can take care of all the church's Facebook stuff.

All this to say, I guess I'm too old for this culture.  I don't feel the need to tell my friends where I am - you know, "checking in."  I don't feel the need to take a picture of my lunch and put it on the web (although I am tempted to share a picture of my stomach contents when they come up).  I got all the, "Hey Mom, look at me!" out of my system when I was in grade school, no need to continue.

I do, however, have serious thoughts that I would like to share.  I want to explore how it is that certain churches can publicly support certain politicians and no one associated with the ACLU or the Justice Department gets upset.  I want to explore how it is that certain "one-party states" are drowning in debt and ruin while other semi-"one-party states" (like Texas, which has both parties but statewide offices have been dominated by one of them for 20 years) seem to be thriving.  I want to explore what is right in our culture and what might be wrong, to discuss how free stuff might not be the best way to help people, whether through the church or through the government.  I am tempted, at times, to share truth with ignorance, like with the recent resignation of a nationally known pastor: the church is now dissolving, and many are ignoring that the multi sites were always going to go it alone after his departure.  He said that years ago.  I want to step into the ignorance and to say, "Let's be fair."  I don't even like the guy.  What I do like is truth.  In the end, I don't make the comment because in the end, it doesn't really matter.

With all the avenues for expressing our opinions, it seems that our opinions have less weight.  Does anyone really believe that the news channels want to know what you think?  They just want you to feel like you matter to them, when you really don't because there's no connection, no relationship.

So, what does this have to do with the blog?  Well, I suppose it is the fact that, while I have something to say, I doubt anyone cares to hear it.  Of course, only my family read this blog, and they care to read.  I suppose the struggle is that I don't think it is worth the exercise of writing it.  Who cares?  Whether I get the ideas out or not, they still exist - in me.  So...why write?  I will if I can, but for me, the value isn't in getting it out.  Most of the time, it is enough that I have thought it and shared it with the Lord.  After all, who really cares about our every thought or opinion?

Probably only the one who cares about the sparrows.

Cool Christians

One of the great past-times of Postevangelical Christianity is to make fun of evangelical and fundamentalist Christianity.  We're not talking about people laughing at their own foibles, oh no, we're talking about people - Christians mind you, little Christs - laughing at other Christians who are deemed "not cool."  It is easy, really.  So you get "Stuff Fundy's Like," "Stuff Christians Like/Say" (Isn't it cool how they replace the "bad" word with Stuff, but I totally thought the "bad" word anyway!) "Rachel Held Evans" (who has painted herself into a corner by declaring how much she wants to leave the crazy Christians in Evangelicalism, only that would leave her with no material for her writing and probably a much smaller audience), etc.  A friend recently linked to "The 5 Top-Worst Christian Videos in the Universe."  Can I just say - I have a hard time believing these are the worst Christian videos.  Are they inherently wicked or harmful?  NO!  The worst videos are probably the ones that everyone is sharing and liking, the sharing and liking of which is a test of your faith.  Or how about a bunch of popular videos espousing lousy or dangerous theology.

Even the website that lists these videos acknowledges the truth within the songs.  In fact, they seem to like most of the songs in and of themselves.  The ideas expressed are not singled out for ridicule, the people expressing them are targets for ridicule from their fellow believers.  How dare they be corney!  Don't they know that the 11th Commandment was, "Be cool in thy ministry, that it might be liked in social media."  Yes, there's nothing quite as bad on the internet as videos of well-meaning people singing about God in cooky ways.  And we eat it up, don't we Christians?!

This is a problem within the American church.  The highest goal for many today isn't living for God and serving Him by following Jesus.  It is about being cool and accepted.  As Jesus Himself said, "Blessed are the cool, for they will not be bothered by the hot shame of social judgment."  When we have claims of people not being good enough, not doing cool things - as if Jesus needs cool people and cool videos - we are getting away from the gospel of grace.  I'll take breakdancing harmonizers in suits and shoulder padded dresses over "cool" productions any day.  Have you considered that there were people watching two of these songs, at least, and that the top three videos were not just the people on the screen, but the ones filming as well.  Laugh at them if you will, but more than one person felt that what they were doing was worthwhile.


Sadly, the creators of the FaithIt.com felt it worthwhile to make fun of them.  I found the About section on FaithIt.com, and it sounds like a site with a wonderful purpose.  Unfortunately, their humor section does not seem to keep their desire for inspirational subject matter.  Not that I'm judging, I know we all get it wrong.  It just saddens me to see the church of popular opinion gathered for worship at FaithIt.com, where the lepers have been put in their place.

Glipses of Others at the Gate

I believe the Lepers' Gate to be a place of messy grace, where the perfect and holy intersects with the spoiled and ordinary.  Today, I read a couple of posts at kimberleysuchta.com that embody this idea quite perfectly.  The first was To All the Girls Who Didn't Say No, the second is a follow up called Grace is Dangerous.  Here is a woman who understands what it is to stand at the Lepers' Gate.  I praise her parents for showing her the way through their example.