The People I Love

I spent a couple of years in a serious depression.  I was in it long enough that I didn't really know the difference anymore.  I've tended towards depression for most of my adult life, but for most of that time I managed it, or at least thought I was managing it.  I'm what you call a high functioning depressive.  Even when it got really bad, I got work done.  I met my obligations.  I got out of bed every day.  I knew there was hope.  I just couldn't feel it.  I didn't feel much at all.

My ability to function probably kept me, for many months, from getting the help I needed.  Once I did, things started to change pretty dramatically.  Emotions came back that I'd not truly felt for years.  Bad news became easier to take.  I found myself able to forgive some people and situations I'd been trying to forgive for years.

I found hope.  I rediscovered the people I love.

I shared all this with my congregation.  It felt risky.  I felt exposed.  It's not that I thought anyone would look down on me.  This congregation is generally loving and accepting.  I was more concerned about how this information would be interpreted by my critics. 

When things go well in the church, ministers are often credited with that, even if they don't deserve it.  And when things go badly, ministers often absorb most of the blame.  For some people, the idea had already gained some traction that any problems we were having must have originated with me.  I feared that some would take my admission of a personal problem as cause to dismiss every reform I'd ever tried to initiate.  It would all be written off as a manifestation of my depression.

To be fair, the vast majority of people in our fellowship did not respond that way at all.  There were a couple of people who had that "Now everything will be perfect" notion, as if the only thing that has ever stood in the way of our fulfilling God's will was me - a convenient if unrealistic conceptualization.  But most people responded as I hoped they would.  As friends.  Friends who have often misunderstood me, but friends nonetheless.

It's been a number of months now, and what is changed is only as interesting as what has not changed.  I feel love for people - people I knew, intellectually, that I loved, but couldn't feel it.  I have more joy in my life, but I also get hurt more.  I don't feel angry all the time, but in place of the anger there is sometimes pain.  Problems and conflicts do not go away.  I just look at them differently.

The failures of the modern church did not vaporize.  They are still there.  The prophet Jeremiah was probably a depressive.  That didn't make him wrong about failures of his generation.  It made people regard him as a serious pain in the ass, but it didn't make him wrong.

I find myself here, working alongside, and sometimes against, people I love, trying to fix what is broken, as best as I know how.  With few exceptions, the Christians I've known are well meaning, loving, and moral people.  But there has been a system failure.  The church today is not formed or functioning in the way it was intended.  We can do better, only by aspiring to Scripture and the ways of Christ, and not by adopting the methodology of another human church or by holding dogmatically to our previous experiences. 

Like all families, we have our problems.  Some among us regard me as one of the family therapists.  Some regard me as one of the identified patients.  In either case, the truth will set us free.

The Church as We Wish to Know It

The most recent edition of Leadership Journal featured and article entitled, The "We" We Want to Be.  It was a very thoughtful exploration of what spiritual maturity looks like from a collective church standpoint.  I've given this a lot of thought over the years, and I find this to be one of the most challenging and frustrating aspects of ministry.  To have any collective sense of direction or pattern of growth is nearly impossible in an organization so given to the societal norms of individualism.

If I, as a minister, or if we, as church leaders, attempt to establish a common direction or goal, it is generally rejected.  Not necessarily in principle, but at least in practice.  The goal may be accepted as healthy, Biblical, useful... it's just not my goal.  So we all, as individuals, decide whether or not we will actively participate.  I think many people would be offended by my even challenging this assumption, but how exactly is a body to function if all its parts determine their goals and purposes independently of one another?

People have accused me of being too controlling, and of trying to force my will upon the congregation.  And I would be dishonest if I didn't acknowledge that I've as much capacity for selfish interest as anyone else.  But I also have to conclude this assumption is largely rooted in the fact that I'm trying to craft a collective direction for people who are interested, primarily, in individual pursuits.  That's not to say that we never come together to get things done.  But I think we tend to do so on a very controlled and individualized basis.

So what, if any, "we" do we want to be?  Some people seem to think of the church as primarily a social outlet.  Some think of it more as a community service organization.  I've known some who saw the church as a professional networking opportunity.  Some regard the church as an opportunity for self improvement.  Some seek constant encouragement, as if the church were a weekly motivational sales meeting.  Some want the church to be their 24/7 therapy group.  Some seek ritual and tradition.  Some seek theological innovation.  Some just chase around from church to church after whatever they find exciting.  I know some churches so focused on evangelism that it's not church unless there is some kind of "come to Jesus" appeal made.  Other churches are always focused on healing and miracles.  Certain kinds of people seem to be drawn to these different environments and assume this is what church is supposed to be.  So, where is there a collective direction?

If you could fashion some measurement device or survey, my guess would be that, in one form or another, most Christians will expect the church to facilitate their individual goals, growth, and direction.  While the church has this potential, I don't see how it ever could have been considered its primary purpose.

Though it is entirely Biblical, one of the most offensive things you can do in the church today is actually expect people to put themselves second.

Things I Cannot Change

I recently checked a friend into a long term alcohol treatment program.  It got me thinking about the serenity prayer, especially that "things I cannot change" part.  I've not had a very good track record for dealing with stuff I can't change.  I've spent way too many nights lying awake worried about problems outside my ability to fix.

This week, a young couple with ties to our congregation lost their baby just two days before the delivery due date.  I don't know them personally.  I do know the family.  I've done a lot of grief counseling over the years, and I've officiated at the funerals of people who went before their time.  But I am at a loss to comprehend the kind of pain involved in losing a child.  Like everyone else here, I suppose, I wish there was something more that could be done besides the offer of company and comfort.  One of our members, a man who has been extremely close to this family for years and actually married the young couple, has been ministering to them as best he can.  I've been praying for him, as well as for the family.

A Good Weekend

I had a really good weekend.  I think the church had a really good weekend.  I preached a sermon on the impact Christian love should have on expectations and conflict resolution in marriage and in the church.  It seemed to be well received.  Of course, we all tend to fail to apply such messages to ourselves, so the ultimate impact of such a teaching is in the hands of the Spirit.  But I think it is significant, at this point in our journey, that on the whole, the fellowship received this somewhat confrontational message without reading a lot of subtext into it.

But the real excitement this weekend was the Prince and Princess Ball.  This was an event that is part of The Guild student and family ministry project.  The students attend a formal medieval ball and are waited on by the adults.  It was great fun for everyone involved, and we had plenty of volunteers to make it all happen.  The kids were beautiful, the decorations were terrific, and a lot of people came together to make it all happen.  I left the ball Sunday night feeling like this is what ministry is supposed to be like.  I'm feeling grateful for our regular Guild volunteers, grateful for the extra volunteers that showed up, both for prep and the event, grateful for my wife and her talent in the kitchen, grateful for our congregation, grateful for all the smart and talented and compassionate kids we are blessed to have with us, and grateful to God for a wonderful evening.

The Ball was an answer to prayer on several different levels.

Peeves and Obstacles

I'm not a very patient man.  I've gotten a little better over the years, but not much.  Impatience is a character flaw for anyone who has it, but it is a particular liability in ministry.  Ministry in the established church takes a mammoth amount of patience.

Discipleship, which I'm proposing here as the Biblical answer to the deficiencies of today's church, is a slow process.  Jesus, himself,  spent three years with his first twelve disciples, and it is painfully clear that even at the end of that time they are still "not getting it" a good part of the time.  We tend to think we are doing much better — that the vantage point of history and years of Sunday School have provided us with the clear answers.  I sincerely doubt this is true.  I imagine Christ looking on us today and thinking, "Two thousand years of trying and they still don't get it!"

A few years ago an influential member of our fellowship accused me of thinking I had all the answers.  I thought about that for a while, then responded by explaining that I actually know more about where I don't want to go, than where I want to go.  And that is really true.  Discipleship is a journey with an undefined (from our human vantage point) destination, because it's truly about following Jesus.  And Jesus has not offered us a complete description of the journey.  Trusting him is really the point of it all.  And our need to control the journey and its outcome is not really about discipleship.

It's been my observation, and my frustration, that the church would rather repeat well known mistakes than take the risk of making new ones.  And, in order to facilitate that dynamic, the church will pretend that it's well known mistakes are good ideas.

All of a sudden I realize I'm no longer a ministry rookie.  I've been at this for quite some time.  I'm no longer just the idealistic, inexperienced upstart who tries to change things, I'm the battle worn and experienced idealistic upstart.  And as I reflect on that journey so far, I see the thing I've had the hardest time with, the thing I've tended to become angry and bitter about, is the unwillingness of the church at large to concede its own failures.

The model of church that we've evolved is relatively easy.  We take very few risks.  Our commitment level is moderate at best.  And our expectation is generally that we will feel "good."  We are understandably reluctant to trade all that for a life of discipleship.  In fact, we probably won't trade it, unless we come to the conclusion that the journey we could take is more virtuous and honorable than the one we are on.  We would have to conclude that righteousness demands it.

But that is quite a leap.  The fact is, the church today does a lot of good.  It is feeding hungry people and, at least at a minimal level, it is spreading the Gospel.  When good deeds are done, and the Gospel is repeated, good things are going to happen.  But the church is also losing membership and influence.  It's members are less Biblically literate.  We cannot seem to cultivate an organic discipleship.  Concluding that the church is healthy because of the good it does is a bit like eating in a restaurant that can't pass its health inspections, simply because we like the flavor of the deserts.

I ordered Hugh Halter's new book.  The description talks about the outward signs of church success, and the reality of a church that is in decline.  This is an extremely well documented reality.  And yet, we seem to prefer the superficial signs of success over the embrace of what is.  I've tried to present hard numbers at times, to people who responded by saying, "you can make statistics say anything."  These are people who rely on such hard data for their jobs and their investment decisions.  But in regard to church, we would much rather embrace blissful ignorance.

This is, perhaps, the most formidable barrier to discipleship truly recapturing the heart and mind of the church.  And it is the one thing I have the most trouble forgiving us for.

So, Now What?

I'm painfully aware of how presumptuous it is to assume one has a grasp of the problems, much less the solutions.  I've read more than a few of those church leadership and growth books, and thought I'd found some great answers, only to discover a few months later that the trend of the moment is rarely useful in the long run.  So now, whether I'm considering the problems or the solutions for the church, I try to stick close to the only reliable source we have, the Bible.

There is this really great scene in the series Firefly where River starts "fixing" the Bible to by removing and rearranging pages to something that makes more sense to her.  Shepherd Book, retrieving his Bible, explains, "You don't fix the Bible, the Bible fixes you."

I find that conceptualization helpful.  The Bible fixes us.  In that phrase rests some assumptions that define our faith.  First, we are broken.  And second, we need something outside ourselves to fix us.  It's my impression that the things that are off the mark about today's western church are the things we have done for ourselves in spite of Scripture.  We hold onto these things, even treating them as sacred and ordained, but they are from us.

So I have to think that discipleship, simple and organic, is the better answer to our challenges.  It sounds oversimplified, even to me, to say, "Oh yeah, all those problems could be redeemed by re-engaging the ancient practices of discipleship."  Nevertheless, I think it's true.  The self sacrificing nature of discipleship undermines the consumerism of western Christianity.  The multiplication nature of discipleship decentralizes leadership, thus discouraging celebrity and encouraging the exercise of diverse gifts by multiple believers in each fellowship.  The deliberate process of discipleship extends beyond our current educational models into an active and challenging journey that promises to facilitate genuine spiritual maturity.

I've been hammering away at the idea of discipleship for years, and I've often run into a problem with my conceptualization.  Christians tend to reject the idea that we are not already practicing discipleship.  Of course, I'm hardly the only or the most credible person to make this observation.  Nevertheless, we tend to so closely associate discipleship with Christianity that we think being one is the same as being the other.  Actually, I tend to agree, but in the opposite way.  Where most of the western church seems to be saying "If you are a Christian you are a disciple," I'm saying, in concert with Deitrich Bonhoeffer, Dallas Willard, and countless others, "If you are not practicing discipleship, you are not really living the Christian life."

The scary thing is that real life discipleship is foreign enough to us that most church leaders aren't really sure where to begin.  For that matter, I certainly can't claim any expertise.  I have enjoyed a dsicipleship relationship with certain mentors in my life and I have, with those who've allowed me, attempted to disciple others.  I've read just about everything I can find on the subject, and I've made a study of the concept in Scripture.

Nevertheless, I'm no authority on the subject.  But it strikes me that the advantage of discipleship is that it is not particularly dependent on expertise.  In fact, I think it kind of works against us to assume expertise.  The people I've tried to disciple, for example, are not people to whom I think I'm particularly superior in any way.  Christian discipleship is unique in this regard, because we don't seek to make people like ourselves, but like Christ.  And in regard to emulating Christ, we all share our human weaknesses.  So it actually works to simply share the journey with another, talk to them about what we have learned, and give them room to make their own mistakes.

I've been considering, for quite some time now, the implementation of a discipleship "experiment."  I'd like to gather some people who are willing and ready, and walk with them through a process in which my own leadership would be considerably decentralized.  There would be some instruction.  There would also be experiments with spiritual disciplines and missional activities.  There would be a whole lot of discussion and shared journey.

I've imagined this process because I think it mimics the experience of Jesus' disciples.  Certainly, there was instruction, which often challenged their status quo assumptions.  But discipleship was hardly limited to education.  It was an active process, wherein disciples participated in the spirituality and mission of Jesus.  And, very importantly, those who made the journey chose to make it.

Problems First, Then Solutions

In keeping with the spirit of my last post, the role of the critic is to use what may be wrong to point to and encourage what might be right.  So what's wrong?  I mean really wrong?  Not just the standard, "Oh yeah we could probably do better than that."  And certainly not the "Well, I can't prove that it's right or wrong but I prefer it my way."  I'm talking about where we really miss the mark.  In some things I think it pretty obvious.  In other things less so.  But the mark has to be set by the Bible, not by me, and not by the latest church growth strategy book.

So how have we, as the church, diverted from Scripture?  Anyone who has read any of the many books on that subject will probably not be very surprised by my views.  There is nothing new about what I'm going to write here.  These problems have been well documented by Christian writers, thinkers, leaders, and scholars of many different backgrounds.  But I feel like I've got to clarify them for my own use, in order to then clarify my prayerful search for Biblical solutions.  So here goes, in short format:

Note: These are generalizations.  I know it.  Anyone with half a brain who reads this will know it.  For my purpose here, generalizations are helpful because they identify common trends.

The church has traded discipleship and its identity as the body of Christ for membership and consumerism.  The church has traded spiritual maturity for denominational indoctrination.  The church persists in its denominational identities in spite of clear instruction from Scripture to the contrary.  Discipleship, the only modality of the early church, is, in its original form, extremely rare today.  The leadership of the church has come to center around personality and high profile pastors, rather than the fivefold leadership gifts practiced organically within the body.  The church has, all too often, sanctified materialism, promiscuity, and other sinful behaviors, or pretended they are not problematic within our fellowships.  The church rarely practices confession, even though we've seen it's power when it is employed.  The church is more Roman than Jewish in its orientation and practice, even though Judaism is its true root.  The church is not global in its approach to poverty, nor is it local in its approach to fellowship.  Individual preference has replaced submission and calling.  What we want to do we label as God's leading, even if our direction is contrary to Scripture.  We have virtually nullified the need for grace by changing the definition of what it means to be a good person to something we are capable of achieving.  That is, we've lowered the standard to what we, and almost anyone, can accomplish rather that holding ourselves or anyone else to the standard of Christ.

Whew!  Not a fun list.  And many would contest me on it, I'm sure.  But this is what I see.  And, in keeping with the purpose of criticism, I going to try to identify some Biblical directions that contrast with these trends.