Friday, December 26, 2008
Somebody's Got to Do Something
Once again we on the leadership council thank those of you who sacrificed and made it out for tonight’s emergency meeting. As for those who aren’t here, obviously they didn’t care enough about the fate of our church. Evidently they couldn’t be bothered to make the effort to come to this meeting and cast their vote, but that’s between them and God now. The rest of us will simply have to take care of business as we know He would want us to conduct it—in the fairest way possible, of course—the way we’ve always run this church.
Let’s cut right to the chase and get down to business. It’s been several years since we had to hold one of these emergency meetings. You will doubtless remember the unfortunate situation when we had to let Pastor Jesus go. Once again we find ourselves in a similar situation, but for somewhat different reasons.
If you don’t know why you are here tonight, then you must be out of the loop. Most of you know what this is about: the abuse of power. Pastor John is starting to become a dictator, a despot who’s trying to run this church the way he sees fit! And we on the council, as those appointed to shepherd this flock, have a big problem with that.
What do we mean by that? Well, you are all aware that we were very clear as to what we felt this church needed when we hired Pastor John three years ago. He knew that he was being hired to serve the people of this church! That’s what pastors do, isn’t it? Don’t you all agree with that? Why, that’s the very essence of ministry—to minister to others. Right? Of course it’s right, it’s in the Bible.
We think we can pinpoint when the trouble all began. About six months ago, Pastor John actually had the audacity to come to the council and complain that he was working too many hours, and that he wasn’t able to spend enough time with his family. We, of course, were generous: we told him that he could cut back to sixty-five hours a week. We even found someone to mow the lawns for him so he didn’t have to do it on Saturday evenings any more! Of course, he still has to go out on Saturdays during the day and do the door-to-door witnessing, but at least he gets the evening off now. What more could he want?
It hardly needs to be said that we care about he and his family. We even decided that next year, we would let him have a sabbatical: one weekend off, two days to go wherever he likes for a well-deserved rest. All he needs to do is to make sure that he brings a qualified pastor in to preach that day—from a church who lines up with our doctrinal statement—and find somebody to lead the worship in his place.
We’ll have to deduct the time from his pay check, obviously, but we all agreed that by that time the man will certainly need a rest. If you remember, we had to cancel his vacation last year because there were too many things going on around the church to let him leave. Now, no one can say we’re not generous—we even said that his wife could go along too. All he has to do is to pay her way, provided that she finds someone to play the piano in her place during the morning’s service, and someone to teach her Sunday School classes that day as well. Surely that is not too much to ask, is it? Of course it isn’t.
Now for most pastors, this would have been more than enough to keep them happy. Don’t you think we’ve been more than accommodating with Pastor John and his family? We thought so too, thought the problem was all but solved and things could get back to normal. But a few months ago, Pastor John came to the council again and said that somebody had given him a book on church leadership and church growth, and he had actually read it on his own, without discussing it with us first. The man hadn’t even told us what book he was reading! That kind of secretive behavior can’t be good in a pastor—a spiritual leader, no less—who is supposed to model transparency and authenticity.
Since then, things have gone from bad to worse. We hardly need to explain what’s been happening in the last few months around here. We’ve got a full-scale rebellion on our hands, and this from the man who is supposed to a servant leader! Pastor John has actually tried to set up what he calls “ministry teams,” but thank God so far nobody in this church has responded to his appeals.
He’s even been talking some nonsense about letting other people preach from time to time, and not fellow pastors from other churches either! He wants people from this church to preach for him! What’s next, will some other person start teaching his Sunday School classes or his weekday home groups? He’s even had the audacity to suggest that we change the worship service, and bring a guitar up on stage! That way his wife won’t have to play the piano any more. Even she is in on it.
But if you ask us on the council, it sounds to us like the man is simply trying to get out of work. Remember why we hired Pastor John: to preach the Word and grow this church. We have always been more than clear—just look at his job description! And now he’s trying to shirk his duties by getting other people to do his job for him. What did he go to Bible College and seminary for? So somebody else could do his work in his place?
We hardly need to remind you all that it is our job on the leadership council to make sure that the wishes of this congregation are represented as fairly as possible. Not only that, but to make sure that if changes do need to happen, they will come about in such a way that everybody is happy with them. We all know that change is inevitable, but why alienate people in the process? Why break with time-honored traditions when there seems to be no need to do so?
We feel that we have been more than fair with Pastor John, but there comes a point when one reaches the limit. We’re at that point now, and something has got to be done about it. So in the interest of fairness, we’re going to ask all of you now to cast your vote on the piece of paper in front of you. Tell us what you would like to see happen. You’ll notice there are two choices: One, we have to let Pastor John go, or two, we keep him on—but with a reprimand—and we will demand that his dictatorial behavior stops now, and things go back to normal.
Does everybody have a pen or a pencil?
Let’s cut right to the chase and get down to business. It’s been several years since we had to hold one of these emergency meetings. You will doubtless remember the unfortunate situation when we had to let Pastor Jesus go. Once again we find ourselves in a similar situation, but for somewhat different reasons.
If you don’t know why you are here tonight, then you must be out of the loop. Most of you know what this is about: the abuse of power. Pastor John is starting to become a dictator, a despot who’s trying to run this church the way he sees fit! And we on the council, as those appointed to shepherd this flock, have a big problem with that.
What do we mean by that? Well, you are all aware that we were very clear as to what we felt this church needed when we hired Pastor John three years ago. He knew that he was being hired to serve the people of this church! That’s what pastors do, isn’t it? Don’t you all agree with that? Why, that’s the very essence of ministry—to minister to others. Right? Of course it’s right, it’s in the Bible.
We think we can pinpoint when the trouble all began. About six months ago, Pastor John actually had the audacity to come to the council and complain that he was working too many hours, and that he wasn’t able to spend enough time with his family. We, of course, were generous: we told him that he could cut back to sixty-five hours a week. We even found someone to mow the lawns for him so he didn’t have to do it on Saturday evenings any more! Of course, he still has to go out on Saturdays during the day and do the door-to-door witnessing, but at least he gets the evening off now. What more could he want?
It hardly needs to be said that we care about he and his family. We even decided that next year, we would let him have a sabbatical: one weekend off, two days to go wherever he likes for a well-deserved rest. All he needs to do is to make sure that he brings a qualified pastor in to preach that day—from a church who lines up with our doctrinal statement—and find somebody to lead the worship in his place.
We’ll have to deduct the time from his pay check, obviously, but we all agreed that by that time the man will certainly need a rest. If you remember, we had to cancel his vacation last year because there were too many things going on around the church to let him leave. Now, no one can say we’re not generous—we even said that his wife could go along too. All he has to do is to pay her way, provided that she finds someone to play the piano in her place during the morning’s service, and someone to teach her Sunday School classes that day as well. Surely that is not too much to ask, is it? Of course it isn’t.
Now for most pastors, this would have been more than enough to keep them happy. Don’t you think we’ve been more than accommodating with Pastor John and his family? We thought so too, thought the problem was all but solved and things could get back to normal. But a few months ago, Pastor John came to the council again and said that somebody had given him a book on church leadership and church growth, and he had actually read it on his own, without discussing it with us first. The man hadn’t even told us what book he was reading! That kind of secretive behavior can’t be good in a pastor—a spiritual leader, no less—who is supposed to model transparency and authenticity.
Since then, things have gone from bad to worse. We hardly need to explain what’s been happening in the last few months around here. We’ve got a full-scale rebellion on our hands, and this from the man who is supposed to a servant leader! Pastor John has actually tried to set up what he calls “ministry teams,” but thank God so far nobody in this church has responded to his appeals.
He’s even been talking some nonsense about letting other people preach from time to time, and not fellow pastors from other churches either! He wants people from this church to preach for him! What’s next, will some other person start teaching his Sunday School classes or his weekday home groups? He’s even had the audacity to suggest that we change the worship service, and bring a guitar up on stage! That way his wife won’t have to play the piano any more. Even she is in on it.
But if you ask us on the council, it sounds to us like the man is simply trying to get out of work. Remember why we hired Pastor John: to preach the Word and grow this church. We have always been more than clear—just look at his job description! And now he’s trying to shirk his duties by getting other people to do his job for him. What did he go to Bible College and seminary for? So somebody else could do his work in his place?
We hardly need to remind you all that it is our job on the leadership council to make sure that the wishes of this congregation are represented as fairly as possible. Not only that, but to make sure that if changes do need to happen, they will come about in such a way that everybody is happy with them. We all know that change is inevitable, but why alienate people in the process? Why break with time-honored traditions when there seems to be no need to do so?
We feel that we have been more than fair with Pastor John, but there comes a point when one reaches the limit. We’re at that point now, and something has got to be done about it. So in the interest of fairness, we’re going to ask all of you now to cast your vote on the piece of paper in front of you. Tell us what you would like to see happen. You’ll notice there are two choices: One, we have to let Pastor John go, or two, we keep him on—but with a reprimand—and we will demand that his dictatorial behavior stops now, and things go back to normal.
Does everybody have a pen or a pencil?
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Emerging Church?
A group of believers had become fed up with what the traditional church had become. There were several problems they had with the traditional church. For one thing, the sermons were predictable as well as boring. Every week, it seemed like preachers offered up the same tired, formulaic sermons. Preachers utilized confusing outline formats, with multiple points, and tried to wax eloquent, but obtained the same old results. Even though they preached from the Bible, sometimes with very careful studies of the Greek and Hebrew, and tried to apply it, somehow it didn’t seem like people’s lives were changing all that much. It appeared that many people attended church out of a sense of duty and little else.
These believers also felt that the traditional churches had leadership structures that were authoritarian and formal. The churches were cold and sterile places where there seemed to be little appeal to the emotional side of people. There also seemed to be little place for women in ministry as well. Church leaders clung to their formal leadership structures, but at the same time appeared to be insincere about their faith journey. Where was the authenticity and transparency? These believers desired a dynamic walk with God, but the traditional church just was not meeting their needs.
To make matters worse, the traditional church spent a lot of time and energy on two tasks: first, they defended their doctrines against other churches that disagreed with them. Their theologians wrote bigger and bigger volumes of doctrine and systematic theology, to the point where every aspect of the faith was scrutinized and refined. Second, the traditional church had seminaries and universities that turned out educated ministers, trained in the traditional ways. They interpreted the Bible, preached sermons, and led their congregations in the ways in which they had been taught. It seemed that in every way, the status quo would be maintained.
One Christian man believed that things had gone on long enough. He and a group of these disgruntled Christians decided to start meeting in his home every Wednesday and Sunday. What would they do? Their ultimate goal was to come alongside each other and encourage each other in the Christian faith. This emerging church encouraged all believers—men and women alike—to live out their faith and minister to others, and to rely less on formal structures of church leadership. They met regularly in homes to pray, to discuss the previous week's sermon, and to apply passages from Scripture and devotional writings to individual lives.
This leader of the emerging church eventually wrote a book outlining the problems with the traditional church, as well as what could be done about it. In it he criticized the ministers of the traditional churches for substituting cold doctrine for warm faith. He also outlined six basic values to which he believed this emerging church should hold:
1. There should be more of an extensive use of the Bible among Christians, and that Christians should help each other in their spiritual journey.
2. That each believer is called to serve others, regardless of gender, education, background, etc. Every believer is a priest. Believers should not rely on professional ministers to do the works of ministry.
3. Christianity should go beyond mere knowledge and be demonstrated by everyday practice, in the workplace, home, school, or church.
4. There should be restraint as well as love regarding religious disputes. He felt that rather than arguing people into the Kingdom, Christians should show love toward nonbelievers and those who wish to argue, and to pray for them and be kind to them instead.
5. Theological schools should be reformed: Future ministers and church leaders should be trained not just in academics but also in how to love others in practical ways, and how to succeed in a life of Christian devotion with the help of other Christians.
6. Preachers should preach sermons that actually build up their listeners, rather than engaging in pointless and technical sermons, in which few were interested or could even understand and/or apply.
So take your best guess: What period of time in the church’s history am I describing?
Believe it or not, this is not a description of the postmodern ‘emerging church’ of today that is fed up with traditional, modernist churches and is seeking its own way. All of this took place in Germany nearly 350 years ago, in 1675. A group of Christians, led by a man named Phillipp Jakob Spener, became known as the “Pietists” because they desired to emphasize more the practicalities of Christian life and less the formal structures of theology or church order. The Pietists had a profound impact on Christianity as they tried to help and encourage each other live out the Christian life in practical ways.
Some Pietists, like August Hermann Francke, were profoundly impacted by Spener’s teaching. Spener and Francke went on to found the University of Halle in Germany in 1691, and Francke taught the students by example what Pietism could mean when put into practice. He opened up his own home for poor children, founded a world-famous orphanage, established an institute for the training of teachers, and later he helped found a publishing house, a medical clinic, and other institutions. At Halle, Francke encouraged the translation of the Bible into other languages and encouraged graduates to go into foreign missions, which they did. Other groups, like the Moravians, also sent out some of the first foreign missionaries, as they tried to put Christian faith into practice.
The Pietist movement would also have a major impact on Wesley and what would become the Methodist church. Pietists also worked among German settlers in America in the 18th and 19th centuries and had a major impact there as well as in sending out others to the mission field. Even today its influence is felt in the church as there is still the desire among many Christians not to rest until they find intimate fellowship with God himself.
(This article drew on the article by Mark A. Noll, "Pietism" in The Elwell Evangelical Dictionary).
These believers also felt that the traditional churches had leadership structures that were authoritarian and formal. The churches were cold and sterile places where there seemed to be little appeal to the emotional side of people. There also seemed to be little place for women in ministry as well. Church leaders clung to their formal leadership structures, but at the same time appeared to be insincere about their faith journey. Where was the authenticity and transparency? These believers desired a dynamic walk with God, but the traditional church just was not meeting their needs.
To make matters worse, the traditional church spent a lot of time and energy on two tasks: first, they defended their doctrines against other churches that disagreed with them. Their theologians wrote bigger and bigger volumes of doctrine and systematic theology, to the point where every aspect of the faith was scrutinized and refined. Second, the traditional church had seminaries and universities that turned out educated ministers, trained in the traditional ways. They interpreted the Bible, preached sermons, and led their congregations in the ways in which they had been taught. It seemed that in every way, the status quo would be maintained.
One Christian man believed that things had gone on long enough. He and a group of these disgruntled Christians decided to start meeting in his home every Wednesday and Sunday. What would they do? Their ultimate goal was to come alongside each other and encourage each other in the Christian faith. This emerging church encouraged all believers—men and women alike—to live out their faith and minister to others, and to rely less on formal structures of church leadership. They met regularly in homes to pray, to discuss the previous week's sermon, and to apply passages from Scripture and devotional writings to individual lives.
This leader of the emerging church eventually wrote a book outlining the problems with the traditional church, as well as what could be done about it. In it he criticized the ministers of the traditional churches for substituting cold doctrine for warm faith. He also outlined six basic values to which he believed this emerging church should hold:
1. There should be more of an extensive use of the Bible among Christians, and that Christians should help each other in their spiritual journey.
2. That each believer is called to serve others, regardless of gender, education, background, etc. Every believer is a priest. Believers should not rely on professional ministers to do the works of ministry.
3. Christianity should go beyond mere knowledge and be demonstrated by everyday practice, in the workplace, home, school, or church.
4. There should be restraint as well as love regarding religious disputes. He felt that rather than arguing people into the Kingdom, Christians should show love toward nonbelievers and those who wish to argue, and to pray for them and be kind to them instead.
5. Theological schools should be reformed: Future ministers and church leaders should be trained not just in academics but also in how to love others in practical ways, and how to succeed in a life of Christian devotion with the help of other Christians.
6. Preachers should preach sermons that actually build up their listeners, rather than engaging in pointless and technical sermons, in which few were interested or could even understand and/or apply.
So take your best guess: What period of time in the church’s history am I describing?
Believe it or not, this is not a description of the postmodern ‘emerging church’ of today that is fed up with traditional, modernist churches and is seeking its own way. All of this took place in Germany nearly 350 years ago, in 1675. A group of Christians, led by a man named Phillipp Jakob Spener, became known as the “Pietists” because they desired to emphasize more the practicalities of Christian life and less the formal structures of theology or church order. The Pietists had a profound impact on Christianity as they tried to help and encourage each other live out the Christian life in practical ways.
Some Pietists, like August Hermann Francke, were profoundly impacted by Spener’s teaching. Spener and Francke went on to found the University of Halle in Germany in 1691, and Francke taught the students by example what Pietism could mean when put into practice. He opened up his own home for poor children, founded a world-famous orphanage, established an institute for the training of teachers, and later he helped found a publishing house, a medical clinic, and other institutions. At Halle, Francke encouraged the translation of the Bible into other languages and encouraged graduates to go into foreign missions, which they did. Other groups, like the Moravians, also sent out some of the first foreign missionaries, as they tried to put Christian faith into practice.
The Pietist movement would also have a major impact on Wesley and what would become the Methodist church. Pietists also worked among German settlers in America in the 18th and 19th centuries and had a major impact there as well as in sending out others to the mission field. Even today its influence is felt in the church as there is still the desire among many Christians not to rest until they find intimate fellowship with God himself.
(This article drew on the article by Mark A. Noll, "Pietism" in The Elwell Evangelical Dictionary).
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
In Search of an Authentic Experience
Q: Who had more influence on music, Chopin or Jim Morrison?
A: I don’t know, but they are both buried at Pere-Lachaise Cemetery in Paris.
Recently we were in Paris and I absolutely had to make the pilgrimage to the world famous Pere-Lachaise Cemetery. I realize that there are many famous graves there, including Oscar Wilde, Balzac, Sarah Bernhardt and many others. For me, though, I wasn’t there to do the typical “tourist thing” and check off one more site to see. It was a personal pilgrimage that had a lot of deeper reasons behind it.
When I was in high school in the 1980s I lived next door to my two cousins, Andy and Dan. Dan introduced me to the music of The Doors and for several years they were a huge part of my life. I can remember driving around the Seattle area in Dan’s beat-up car that didn’t even have a tape deck in it. We had to bring along a battery-powered boom box so we could listen to “Riders on the Storm” and “LA Woman” at full volume.
Dan and I were very close. We went through U.S. Navy boot camp together in San Diego shortly after high school, and a couple of years after that suffered the loss of his brother Andy, who was killed in a drunk driving accident. Dan didn’t handle it very well and sort of went his own way for a while: he was kicked out of the Navy for drugs, went off and fished in Alaska, then tried to hold down several different jobs, but wasn’t having much success out of life.
It was down in Portland at Bible college, literally on the day my first daughter was born, that I heard the sad news: Dan had committed suicide after a night of heavy drinking. He put a gun in his mouth in the parking lot of a tavern near Seattle, and ended it all. For him I suppose all the rage at everybody—the world, his abusive father, whatever—finally proved to be too much when coupled with a massive intake of Jack Daniels.
One thing Dan had mentioned to me a few years earlier in passing conversation was that, when he died, he wanted The Doors’ “Break on Through to the Other Side” played at his funeral. Sadly this request was not honored, and I have always vowed to visit his grave and play the song, which is something I have not done as of yet, nearly fifteen years after his death. It’s one of those things I just gotta do…
So to return to our recent trip to Paris and my journey to Pere-Lachaise: I wanted to visit Morrison’s grave, not in order to have my picture taken in front of it like most of the other tourists, but as a true pilgrimage. I wanted to sit in the quiet, with the trees and the sunshine, and reflect about my life, my experiences with Dan (the good times and the bad times), and what part The Doors’ music had played in all of that. But sadly, this was not to be.
By the time I found the grave (which can be quite difficult in a cemetery without many straight paths), I was ready to do some reflecting. But no—the grave itself is protected with a steel fence. There were tourists all around it taking pictures of each other. One Chinese student asked me in broken English if I would take her picture in front of “Jeem Moreeson grave?”
Finally I had my ten seconds in front of the grave and took a couple of pictures, just to be able to remember it later. Looking at the famous graffiti on the tomb next to Morrison’s was disappointing as well, since they had clearly scrubbed off previous graffito. I was hoping to read stuff that went back to the 1970s, but it was all gone. All the contributions were from 2008…whatever. Just then a yuppie couple from the States came up to start taking pictures of the grave. The wife asked the husband, “Now who was Jim Morrison again?” Husband: “I think he was some kind of an actor or something…” I couldn’t bear to listen and had to get out of there.
I wandered around the cemetery for a while taking some pictures, and then finally found a bench in front of a rotunda with a statue. I thought this would be a good, quiet place finally to reflect on my life, The Doors, and cousin Dan. But no, this also was not to be; the quiet reverie of Pere-Lachaise was rudely shattered. Two American teenagers sat down at the bench next to me and then one began a long—and quite loud—conversation on her cell phone with somebody in high school French. Frustrated, my reflective mood evaporated, and I finally gave up and left to explore the cemetery.
So what’s it all about? To be perfectly honest, I don’t know for sure. What I do know is that there are times when I need to take time out seriously to think about my life; where I’ve come from, what kinds of experiences have shaped me, and how various people have come in and out of my life, and what an impact they have had. Even a guy like Jim Morrison—who died only a few years after I was born—had an impact. Certainly Dan had an impact. I can’t overlook the good times we had, and I still miss him.
I promise you Dan, the next time I’m in the Seattle area, I’ll visit your grave and play “Break on Through” for you.
A: I don’t know, but they are both buried at Pere-Lachaise Cemetery in Paris.
Recently we were in Paris and I absolutely had to make the pilgrimage to the world famous Pere-Lachaise Cemetery. I realize that there are many famous graves there, including Oscar Wilde, Balzac, Sarah Bernhardt and many others. For me, though, I wasn’t there to do the typical “tourist thing” and check off one more site to see. It was a personal pilgrimage that had a lot of deeper reasons behind it.
When I was in high school in the 1980s I lived next door to my two cousins, Andy and Dan. Dan introduced me to the music of The Doors and for several years they were a huge part of my life. I can remember driving around the Seattle area in Dan’s beat-up car that didn’t even have a tape deck in it. We had to bring along a battery-powered boom box so we could listen to “Riders on the Storm” and “LA Woman” at full volume.
Dan and I were very close. We went through U.S. Navy boot camp together in San Diego shortly after high school, and a couple of years after that suffered the loss of his brother Andy, who was killed in a drunk driving accident. Dan didn’t handle it very well and sort of went his own way for a while: he was kicked out of the Navy for drugs, went off and fished in Alaska, then tried to hold down several different jobs, but wasn’t having much success out of life.
It was down in Portland at Bible college, literally on the day my first daughter was born, that I heard the sad news: Dan had committed suicide after a night of heavy drinking. He put a gun in his mouth in the parking lot of a tavern near Seattle, and ended it all. For him I suppose all the rage at everybody—the world, his abusive father, whatever—finally proved to be too much when coupled with a massive intake of Jack Daniels.
One thing Dan had mentioned to me a few years earlier in passing conversation was that, when he died, he wanted The Doors’ “Break on Through to the Other Side” played at his funeral. Sadly this request was not honored, and I have always vowed to visit his grave and play the song, which is something I have not done as of yet, nearly fifteen years after his death. It’s one of those things I just gotta do…
So to return to our recent trip to Paris and my journey to Pere-Lachaise: I wanted to visit Morrison’s grave, not in order to have my picture taken in front of it like most of the other tourists, but as a true pilgrimage. I wanted to sit in the quiet, with the trees and the sunshine, and reflect about my life, my experiences with Dan (the good times and the bad times), and what part The Doors’ music had played in all of that. But sadly, this was not to be.
By the time I found the grave (which can be quite difficult in a cemetery without many straight paths), I was ready to do some reflecting. But no—the grave itself is protected with a steel fence. There were tourists all around it taking pictures of each other. One Chinese student asked me in broken English if I would take her picture in front of “Jeem Moreeson grave?”
Finally I had my ten seconds in front of the grave and took a couple of pictures, just to be able to remember it later. Looking at the famous graffiti on the tomb next to Morrison’s was disappointing as well, since they had clearly scrubbed off previous graffito. I was hoping to read stuff that went back to the 1970s, but it was all gone. All the contributions were from 2008…whatever. Just then a yuppie couple from the States came up to start taking pictures of the grave. The wife asked the husband, “Now who was Jim Morrison again?” Husband: “I think he was some kind of an actor or something…” I couldn’t bear to listen and had to get out of there.
I wandered around the cemetery for a while taking some pictures, and then finally found a bench in front of a rotunda with a statue. I thought this would be a good, quiet place finally to reflect on my life, The Doors, and cousin Dan. But no, this also was not to be; the quiet reverie of Pere-Lachaise was rudely shattered. Two American teenagers sat down at the bench next to me and then one began a long—and quite loud—conversation on her cell phone with somebody in high school French. Frustrated, my reflective mood evaporated, and I finally gave up and left to explore the cemetery.
So what’s it all about? To be perfectly honest, I don’t know for sure. What I do know is that there are times when I need to take time out seriously to think about my life; where I’ve come from, what kinds of experiences have shaped me, and how various people have come in and out of my life, and what an impact they have had. Even a guy like Jim Morrison—who died only a few years after I was born—had an impact. Certainly Dan had an impact. I can’t overlook the good times we had, and I still miss him.
I promise you Dan, the next time I’m in the Seattle area, I’ll visit your grave and play “Break on Through” for you.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
The Great Pretender
As Karl—Homer Simpson’s assistant—said to him, “You don’t belong here. You’re a fraud and a phony, and it’s only a matter of time before they find you out.” And Homer gasps and says, “Who told you?”—his worst fears realized.
We the viewers are privy to the truth—Homer is indeed a fraud and a phoney, an absolute incompetent—and his promotion came about because of his new head of hair. Nothing else.
This episode brings up an issue that many of us, both in teaching and ministry professions, struggle with mightily: the impostor syndrome. Not the title of a Robert Ludlum novel, it is what adult educator Stephen Brookfield writes about in his work Becoming a Critically Reflective Teacher (Jossey-Bass 1995, pp. 229-235).
What is “the impostor syndrome?” Brookfield explains that it is the fear that we have, deep down inside, that at some point—like Homer—we are going to be unmasked for the frauds that we truly are. Whether it is a teacher in front of a class, a preacher in the pulpit, or a youth leader addressing a group of teens, the dynamics are the same.
We feel like impostors. We feel that we don’t really deserve to be taken seriously; that if the people we’re about to address knew the truth of the matter we’d be finished. What is that “truth”? The truth is that we feel as if we really don’t know what we are doing. We feel as if our teaching or preaching is being done under false pretenses, and at some point the ugly truth will finally come out.
Brookfield says, “We wear an external mask of control, but beneath it we know that really we are frail figures, struggling to make it through to the end of each day. There is the sense that a
around the corner is an unforeseen but cataclysmic event that will reveal us as frauds” (p. 230).
Following our public and humiliating unveiling, our colleagues and employers, he states, will shake their heads and wonder how they could have ever been so stupid as to hire such an obvious incompetent in the first place. Is it any wonder that we as teachers and church leaders have to spend so much energy desperately avoiding the certain humiliation of being found out for the frauds we truly are?
The reality is that the impostor syndrome takes on many forms. One may manifest itself in an academic context: As a teacher I worry that I have to know everything there is to know about a subject before I teach it, otherwise that one troublesome student in the class who happens to know more about it than I do will unmask me—in front of everyone—for the fraud that I truly am.
Within the classroom setting, the impostor syndrome affects students as well. A student may think, “I don’t belong in this class. Clearly I don’t know as much as some of these other, smarter students. So I will sit in the back row and say nothing, for fear of being unmasked for a fraud.”
And we are all familiar with the student who thinks, “The teacher doesn’t belong here. She is a fraud and a phony, and it is my job to unmask her for the fake that she is.” In my experience there always seems to be one or two of these types of students in every Bible college or seminary classroom. These students make the teachers’ jobs a living nightmare, especially when the dynamic of arguing theological minutiae comes into play.
The impostor syndrome affects those involved in church leadership as well. I spent seven years as an elder and a pastor working myself into the ground to try and prove that I was not an impostor. I reasoned that if I kept all the plates spinning, made sure that all the ministries hummed along nicely, and never made a single mistake, there would be no grounds for criticism. The truth is I was desperately avoiding being found out. No one could be allowed to see through my façade. Even the slightest criticism could be devastating.
How can we deal with the impostor syndrome? Brookfield argues that the essential ingredient is to make it public. “Once impostorship is named as an everyday experience,” he points out, “it loses much of its power” (p. 233). When we hear others—particularly those whom we admire—admit that they struggle with the same issues many of the effects of the syndrome are defused.
A second, equally important factor is to address the culture within which we are working. Unless it is a safe place for teachers and church leaders to disclose their struggles, no one will admit their deepest apprehensions for fear of being eaten alive or worse, being fired when the truth comes out. It is the job of leadership to create and maintain a safe and healthy culture so that issues like impostorship can be discussed without fear of reprisal.
Surprisingly, however, if properly controlled impostorship can actually be productively troubling, says Brookfield. Somehow there needs to be a balance: on the one hand, there can be an arrogant sense of overdeveloped overconfidence. On the other hand if taken to an extreme, impostorship can be crippling. Identifying and challenging the feelings of impostorship with which we struggle is precisely what opens up possibilities for us to realign our ways of thinking and practice.
We the viewers are privy to the truth—Homer is indeed a fraud and a phoney, an absolute incompetent—and his promotion came about because of his new head of hair. Nothing else.
This episode brings up an issue that many of us, both in teaching and ministry professions, struggle with mightily: the impostor syndrome. Not the title of a Robert Ludlum novel, it is what adult educator Stephen Brookfield writes about in his work Becoming a Critically Reflective Teacher (Jossey-Bass 1995, pp. 229-235).
What is “the impostor syndrome?” Brookfield explains that it is the fear that we have, deep down inside, that at some point—like Homer—we are going to be unmasked for the frauds that we truly are. Whether it is a teacher in front of a class, a preacher in the pulpit, or a youth leader addressing a group of teens, the dynamics are the same.
We feel like impostors. We feel that we don’t really deserve to be taken seriously; that if the people we’re about to address knew the truth of the matter we’d be finished. What is that “truth”? The truth is that we feel as if we really don’t know what we are doing. We feel as if our teaching or preaching is being done under false pretenses, and at some point the ugly truth will finally come out.
Brookfield says, “We wear an external mask of control, but beneath it we know that really we are frail figures, struggling to make it through to the end of each day. There is the sense that a
around the corner is an unforeseen but cataclysmic event that will reveal us as frauds” (p. 230).
Following our public and humiliating unveiling, our colleagues and employers, he states, will shake their heads and wonder how they could have ever been so stupid as to hire such an obvious incompetent in the first place. Is it any wonder that we as teachers and church leaders have to spend so much energy desperately avoiding the certain humiliation of being found out for the frauds we truly are?
The reality is that the impostor syndrome takes on many forms. One may manifest itself in an academic context: As a teacher I worry that I have to know everything there is to know about a subject before I teach it, otherwise that one troublesome student in the class who happens to know more about it than I do will unmask me—in front of everyone—for the fraud that I truly am.
Within the classroom setting, the impostor syndrome affects students as well. A student may think, “I don’t belong in this class. Clearly I don’t know as much as some of these other, smarter students. So I will sit in the back row and say nothing, for fear of being unmasked for a fraud.”
And we are all familiar with the student who thinks, “The teacher doesn’t belong here. She is a fraud and a phony, and it is my job to unmask her for the fake that she is.” In my experience there always seems to be one or two of these types of students in every Bible college or seminary classroom. These students make the teachers’ jobs a living nightmare, especially when the dynamic of arguing theological minutiae comes into play.
The impostor syndrome affects those involved in church leadership as well. I spent seven years as an elder and a pastor working myself into the ground to try and prove that I was not an impostor. I reasoned that if I kept all the plates spinning, made sure that all the ministries hummed along nicely, and never made a single mistake, there would be no grounds for criticism. The truth is I was desperately avoiding being found out. No one could be allowed to see through my façade. Even the slightest criticism could be devastating.
How can we deal with the impostor syndrome? Brookfield argues that the essential ingredient is to make it public. “Once impostorship is named as an everyday experience,” he points out, “it loses much of its power” (p. 233). When we hear others—particularly those whom we admire—admit that they struggle with the same issues many of the effects of the syndrome are defused.
A second, equally important factor is to address the culture within which we are working. Unless it is a safe place for teachers and church leaders to disclose their struggles, no one will admit their deepest apprehensions for fear of being eaten alive or worse, being fired when the truth comes out. It is the job of leadership to create and maintain a safe and healthy culture so that issues like impostorship can be discussed without fear of reprisal.
Surprisingly, however, if properly controlled impostorship can actually be productively troubling, says Brookfield. Somehow there needs to be a balance: on the one hand, there can be an arrogant sense of overdeveloped overconfidence. On the other hand if taken to an extreme, impostorship can be crippling. Identifying and challenging the feelings of impostorship with which we struggle is precisely what opens up possibilities for us to realign our ways of thinking and practice.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Living Outside the Box
The other night I sat at a pub with a couple of friends discussing, among other things, our journeys through life, theology, and our stance toward the traditional church. One of the guys was named Brian and I had only just met him that night. Somewhere in his mid-50s, Brian has led an interesting life since coming to know Christ some 40 years ago at L’Abri in Switzerland (yes, that’s the Francis Schaeffer).
As I was sharing with Brian details of my own journey, he finally looked at me and said: “Well, coming from someone who’s been on this journey for nearly 40 years, here’s the good news—you’ve only just begun the journey. Keep moving forward!” I was somewhat startled by that statement, because up until that point I had—mistakenly, as it turns out—thought I was doing pretty good with myself. But he was not being condescending, he was being encouraging. From his point of view, I’m just a little baby taking those first tentative steps, while he’s been walking along for decades now.
Certainly it doesn’t mean he has everything figured out—not by a long stretch. But it is kind of humbling to think about it. Not that I have arrived at all, but I thought I had made some major strides from where I was just a few years ago. I suppose I have, but then the next question came up: Where do I go from here? What do the next steps look like?
Brian sat back after I posed that question and said, “Well, if you could answer that question, there’d really be no point, would there.” Thinking I was being clever, I shot back: “Well, it seems to me that the main thing is to think outside the box.” Just as quickly he returned with, “Actually, the problem is not merely thinking outside the box. It’s learning to live outside the box that is the real challenge.”
What I got out of our conversation the other night was that in all honesty, it is all too easy to sit back and criticize the traditional, Western church for all of its shortcomings.—to name a few: a rationalistic theological bias, its propositional idea-centered preaching, its lack of engagement with the emerging culture, and its increasingly outmoded styles of leadership. And the thing is, those criticisms are all too close to the mark. They’re probably all true. The church does need to get its head out of the sand; the church does need to realize that in about 20 or 30 years, the baby-boomers who are filling its seats will be dying off, and then what?
But in my conversation with Brian, I walked away challenged by it all. It’s fairly easy to sit back and sling arrows at the bloated, inefficient, increasingly irrelevant entity that the traditional, Western church is becoming. But it is quite another thing to do something about it—in a positive sense. For me, it comes down to the two values of ownership and expression—something I stole from our church in Portland, Imagine Church Community.
It is not enough merely to own something; the step beyond it is to begin to express it too. Take spiritual gifts, for example: Learning what your gifts are is but the ownership end of the equation. Beginning to express them through various aspects of ministry is the other side of the coin: expression.
This relates to our discussion of criticizing the traditional church as well. My ownership of the conception that things are horribly wrong is not nearly enough; for me, I have to begin to work out ways of expressing those convictions in a positive way other than sitting back and criticizing. The beauty of those two values is that they are just abstract enough that individuals can go away and work out what it means for him or her, in their particular and unique context of life and ministry.
For example, it’s like what Barth said about Jesus—that he came not only to reveal the Father, but also to show us as humans what we could be like as well. As one who was completely undistracted by sin, and free from the self-deceptions and self-interests that plague us, he could have done anything he liked. So what did he do? He really only did a couple of things: One, he lived always to serve the Father, and two, he lived always to serve others. He was truly a relational, communal person.
Barth says that in this way, Christ is our example of what it means to become truly human: Live to serve God and others, and exist in true community. But for me the key is this: Those elements are just abstract enough so as not to become a formula. What does it mean to serve God, serve others, and live in authentic community? For each of us it means something different, as we work out the implications for ourselves.
Getting back to the point about the church, for me it is a major challenge to begin to work out those abstractions of ownership and expression as it relates to my own sense of mission. I have no idea what it means, other than to serve God and to serve others, and to pursue authentic, intentional community. If somehow those can take place within some conception of “church,” then, as I see it, so much the better.
Is this what it means to try and live outside the box?
As I was sharing with Brian details of my own journey, he finally looked at me and said: “Well, coming from someone who’s been on this journey for nearly 40 years, here’s the good news—you’ve only just begun the journey. Keep moving forward!” I was somewhat startled by that statement, because up until that point I had—mistakenly, as it turns out—thought I was doing pretty good with myself. But he was not being condescending, he was being encouraging. From his point of view, I’m just a little baby taking those first tentative steps, while he’s been walking along for decades now.
Certainly it doesn’t mean he has everything figured out—not by a long stretch. But it is kind of humbling to think about it. Not that I have arrived at all, but I thought I had made some major strides from where I was just a few years ago. I suppose I have, but then the next question came up: Where do I go from here? What do the next steps look like?
Brian sat back after I posed that question and said, “Well, if you could answer that question, there’d really be no point, would there.” Thinking I was being clever, I shot back: “Well, it seems to me that the main thing is to think outside the box.” Just as quickly he returned with, “Actually, the problem is not merely thinking outside the box. It’s learning to live outside the box that is the real challenge.”
What I got out of our conversation the other night was that in all honesty, it is all too easy to sit back and criticize the traditional, Western church for all of its shortcomings.—to name a few: a rationalistic theological bias, its propositional idea-centered preaching, its lack of engagement with the emerging culture, and its increasingly outmoded styles of leadership. And the thing is, those criticisms are all too close to the mark. They’re probably all true. The church does need to get its head out of the sand; the church does need to realize that in about 20 or 30 years, the baby-boomers who are filling its seats will be dying off, and then what?
But in my conversation with Brian, I walked away challenged by it all. It’s fairly easy to sit back and sling arrows at the bloated, inefficient, increasingly irrelevant entity that the traditional, Western church is becoming. But it is quite another thing to do something about it—in a positive sense. For me, it comes down to the two values of ownership and expression—something I stole from our church in Portland, Imagine Church Community.
It is not enough merely to own something; the step beyond it is to begin to express it too. Take spiritual gifts, for example: Learning what your gifts are is but the ownership end of the equation. Beginning to express them through various aspects of ministry is the other side of the coin: expression.
This relates to our discussion of criticizing the traditional church as well. My ownership of the conception that things are horribly wrong is not nearly enough; for me, I have to begin to work out ways of expressing those convictions in a positive way other than sitting back and criticizing. The beauty of those two values is that they are just abstract enough that individuals can go away and work out what it means for him or her, in their particular and unique context of life and ministry.
For example, it’s like what Barth said about Jesus—that he came not only to reveal the Father, but also to show us as humans what we could be like as well. As one who was completely undistracted by sin, and free from the self-deceptions and self-interests that plague us, he could have done anything he liked. So what did he do? He really only did a couple of things: One, he lived always to serve the Father, and two, he lived always to serve others. He was truly a relational, communal person.
Barth says that in this way, Christ is our example of what it means to become truly human: Live to serve God and others, and exist in true community. But for me the key is this: Those elements are just abstract enough so as not to become a formula. What does it mean to serve God, serve others, and live in authentic community? For each of us it means something different, as we work out the implications for ourselves.
Getting back to the point about the church, for me it is a major challenge to begin to work out those abstractions of ownership and expression as it relates to my own sense of mission. I have no idea what it means, other than to serve God and to serve others, and to pursue authentic, intentional community. If somehow those can take place within some conception of “church,” then, as I see it, so much the better.
Is this what it means to try and live outside the box?
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Pastor John
I was down at the local Starbucks the other day and ran into Ryan, a guy I met briefly at the church I’ve been attending for the last couple of months or so. I was glad to see him because on Sunday he mentioned he was one of the elders. I was looking to get involved in something at the church, and I was hoping I could talk to him about various ministry opportunities. Who better to talk to than one of the leaders?
“Hey, Ryan,” I said. “How are you doing?” He looked up at me with a puzzled look on his face. “Do I know you?” he asked. “Um…yeah. Name’s Chuck, remember? I’ve been coming to the church for a while now. We were talking on Sunday.” “Oh, yeah, now I remember you. Hey listen, if you’re not sitting anywhere, grab a seat.”
I sat down next to him and, after a few minutes of small talk, said, “Hey Ryan, can I ask you a question?” “Sure, fire away,” he replied. “Well, I’ve been coming to the church for a couple of months now,” I said. “I know you just hired Pastor John a while ago, and I was thinking about getting involved in some kinds of ministry. You know, help the guy out or something.” “Hmmm. Interesting thought. So what kinds of stuff were you thinking about getting involved in?”
“I’m a bookkeeper by trade,” I said. “Do you think the church could use some help with keeping the books?” “No,” he said. “See, Pastor John takes care of balancing all the books and writing all the checks for bills and stuff. Got him a used computer too, and of course, took it out of his paycheck.” I thought for a minute. “Well, I’m pretty handy with a hammer,” I said. “I could do some of the repairs around the building. Maybe I could mow the lawn? Or help clean the building?” “Nah, we’ve got all that covered,” he replied. “Pastor John mows the lawn on Sundays after the service, and cleans the building every Saturday night. In fact, we even bought him a new lawnmower and a new vacuum cleaner when he came on board. Of course, we did take ‘em out of his paycheck.” “What about tools?” I asked. “I’ve got a lot of tools he could borrow…” “Nope,” he interrupted. “One of the things on his job description was for him to bring his own tools for use on the building. He’s OK for tools.”
I took a sip of coffee. “What about teaching?” I asked. “I did a couple years of Bible College. I could teach a Sunday School class, or a home group.” “Let me think about that,” he said reflectively. “Actually, right now there’s really no need for teachers. You see, Pastor John and his wife teach the Sunday School classes before the service, and then during the week he leads the three home groups we’ve got—let’s see, that’d be Monday, Tuesday, and Friday nights—so you can see, we don’t need any teachers right now.”
“I’ve got it,” I said. “How about the youth group? I’m pretty good with teens—maybe I could help out there or something.” “Nope,” he replied. “Pastor John and his wife lead the teens group on Thursday nights, and they organize all the outings and stuff, you know, drive the van and all that, so I don’t really think they need your help.” “Hey—maybe I could work on the van,” I said. “What happens if it breaks down? What about oil changes and stuff?” “Thanks for the offer, Chuck, but there again, we cleared a nice little spot out back of the building for Pastor John to work on the van when it breaks down. Just to help him out, we even bought him a set of wrenches the other day! ‘Course we took it out of his paycheck, but at least now he doesn’t have to keep borrowing tools from people anymore. I swear that van has never run so good. Sure nice to have a van, too, so Pastor John can take some of the senior citizens around to doctors’ appointments and shopping during the week.”
"How about music?"I asked. "I play a pretty mean guitar. I used to lead worship now and then at my former church. I could step in..." He interrupted once again. "Sorry, Chuck, I'm sure you're a good guitar player, but you see, Pastor John and his wife handle all the worship. See, we got us a two-for-one deal there! She plays piano, and he leads the singing. And the best part is, we only have to pay him! Of course, for her, it's all about the ministry. We specified on his job description that his wife would lead several 'unpaid' ministries as part of her duties here. Got to set a good example to the other wives, you know!"
I sat back and thought for a bit. What other services could I offer? Then it hit me. “How about visitation? I don’t really mind going to hospitals, or nursing homes, or whatever. Maybe I could do something like that.” He thought for a second, then said, “Well, there again, Pastor John takes care of visitation. Part of his job description, you know.” “What about evangelism?” I asked. “I don’t really mind going door to door, you know, sort of cold-calling.” “Hmm. Well, you see, Chuck, if you did that, you’d be taking away from some of Pastor John’s weekly duties—how he earns his paycheck! Remember, we hired him to grow the church, so he goes out door-to-door every Saturday afternoon.”
I had one last thought. “What about preaching?” I asked. “At my last church, they let me preach a couple times a year. Maybe I could bring a word here and there…” At that he looked positively indignant. “Now listen here, Chuck,” he retorted. “I’ve enjoyed this little talk we’ve had, but now it’s getting out of hand. One of the main reasons we hired Pastor John was to preach the Word every Sunday and Wednesday night. He's our leader, Chuck, a positive example of a man with a true servant's heart. What are you trying to do, take away the man’s livelihood?”
“No, of course not,” I said. I tried to put in a little sarcasm when I said, “Well, maybe all I can do at this church is come every Sunday, sit in the pew, put my tithe in the plate, listen to the sermon, then go home at the end of the service.” I think he missed the point, because he sat back with a pleased smile, and said, “You know, I do believe Pastor John would be real happy to hear you say that. God bless you Chuck, now you’re finally starting to make sense!”
“Hey, Ryan,” I said. “How are you doing?” He looked up at me with a puzzled look on his face. “Do I know you?” he asked. “Um…yeah. Name’s Chuck, remember? I’ve been coming to the church for a while now. We were talking on Sunday.” “Oh, yeah, now I remember you. Hey listen, if you’re not sitting anywhere, grab a seat.”
I sat down next to him and, after a few minutes of small talk, said, “Hey Ryan, can I ask you a question?” “Sure, fire away,” he replied. “Well, I’ve been coming to the church for a couple of months now,” I said. “I know you just hired Pastor John a while ago, and I was thinking about getting involved in some kinds of ministry. You know, help the guy out or something.” “Hmmm. Interesting thought. So what kinds of stuff were you thinking about getting involved in?”
“I’m a bookkeeper by trade,” I said. “Do you think the church could use some help with keeping the books?” “No,” he said. “See, Pastor John takes care of balancing all the books and writing all the checks for bills and stuff. Got him a used computer too, and of course, took it out of his paycheck.” I thought for a minute. “Well, I’m pretty handy with a hammer,” I said. “I could do some of the repairs around the building. Maybe I could mow the lawn? Or help clean the building?” “Nah, we’ve got all that covered,” he replied. “Pastor John mows the lawn on Sundays after the service, and cleans the building every Saturday night. In fact, we even bought him a new lawnmower and a new vacuum cleaner when he came on board. Of course, we did take ‘em out of his paycheck.” “What about tools?” I asked. “I’ve got a lot of tools he could borrow…” “Nope,” he interrupted. “One of the things on his job description was for him to bring his own tools for use on the building. He’s OK for tools.”
I took a sip of coffee. “What about teaching?” I asked. “I did a couple years of Bible College. I could teach a Sunday School class, or a home group.” “Let me think about that,” he said reflectively. “Actually, right now there’s really no need for teachers. You see, Pastor John and his wife teach the Sunday School classes before the service, and then during the week he leads the three home groups we’ve got—let’s see, that’d be Monday, Tuesday, and Friday nights—so you can see, we don’t need any teachers right now.”
“I’ve got it,” I said. “How about the youth group? I’m pretty good with teens—maybe I could help out there or something.” “Nope,” he replied. “Pastor John and his wife lead the teens group on Thursday nights, and they organize all the outings and stuff, you know, drive the van and all that, so I don’t really think they need your help.” “Hey—maybe I could work on the van,” I said. “What happens if it breaks down? What about oil changes and stuff?” “Thanks for the offer, Chuck, but there again, we cleared a nice little spot out back of the building for Pastor John to work on the van when it breaks down. Just to help him out, we even bought him a set of wrenches the other day! ‘Course we took it out of his paycheck, but at least now he doesn’t have to keep borrowing tools from people anymore. I swear that van has never run so good. Sure nice to have a van, too, so Pastor John can take some of the senior citizens around to doctors’ appointments and shopping during the week.”
"How about music?"I asked. "I play a pretty mean guitar. I used to lead worship now and then at my former church. I could step in..." He interrupted once again. "Sorry, Chuck, I'm sure you're a good guitar player, but you see, Pastor John and his wife handle all the worship. See, we got us a two-for-one deal there! She plays piano, and he leads the singing. And the best part is, we only have to pay him! Of course, for her, it's all about the ministry. We specified on his job description that his wife would lead several 'unpaid' ministries as part of her duties here. Got to set a good example to the other wives, you know!"
I sat back and thought for a bit. What other services could I offer? Then it hit me. “How about visitation? I don’t really mind going to hospitals, or nursing homes, or whatever. Maybe I could do something like that.” He thought for a second, then said, “Well, there again, Pastor John takes care of visitation. Part of his job description, you know.” “What about evangelism?” I asked. “I don’t really mind going door to door, you know, sort of cold-calling.” “Hmm. Well, you see, Chuck, if you did that, you’d be taking away from some of Pastor John’s weekly duties—how he earns his paycheck! Remember, we hired him to grow the church, so he goes out door-to-door every Saturday afternoon.”
I had one last thought. “What about preaching?” I asked. “At my last church, they let me preach a couple times a year. Maybe I could bring a word here and there…” At that he looked positively indignant. “Now listen here, Chuck,” he retorted. “I’ve enjoyed this little talk we’ve had, but now it’s getting out of hand. One of the main reasons we hired Pastor John was to preach the Word every Sunday and Wednesday night. He's our leader, Chuck, a positive example of a man with a true servant's heart. What are you trying to do, take away the man’s livelihood?”
“No, of course not,” I said. I tried to put in a little sarcasm when I said, “Well, maybe all I can do at this church is come every Sunday, sit in the pew, put my tithe in the plate, listen to the sermon, then go home at the end of the service.” I think he missed the point, because he sat back with a pleased smile, and said, “You know, I do believe Pastor John would be real happy to hear you say that. God bless you Chuck, now you’re finally starting to make sense!”
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Priority Determines Structure
I have come to believe the statement that “Priority determines structure.” I believe it is true for any organization, be it a church or a business. The priorities of the organization determine the structure of its management style. What it deems its most important priority will determine how the organization is run, and what it wants its people to spend most of their time doing.
Think of the typical church and ask the question: Can you tell its priority from its current structure? You can find out the answer to that by asking another question: What do its leaders spend most of their time and energy doing throughout the week? For most churches, I believe that its leaders spend the bulk of their leadership time and energy on issues of administration, solving crises of one sort or another, building maintenance and building planning issues, making sure that all the various ministries stay up and running, and planning and executing the Sunday (and possibly mid-week) services.
Now I’m not down on pastors or church leaders—don’t get me wrong. I think the point would be too easily made if I were to say, “The problem lies with the leadership of churches.” In some cases, that statement may be correct; but I wonder if more often than not, church leaders are merely living up (or down) to the expectations placed on them by the congregation itself? Are we trying to maintain some kind of status quo, or what?
When I look at Ephesians 4, it seems clear that the passage states that gifted church leadership—under the headship of Christ—are given to the church for one purpose: To equip the believers in order that they can go out and perform the works of ministry, and not only the leaders themselves. What is equipping? From my experience I believe it has to do with helping people identify who God made them to be; finding out what gifts, passions and strengths they have, and then enabling them to minister in that capacity.
The passage goes on to say that when this equipping happens, believers grow up and become mature and more like Christ. Further, when this dynamic occurs, the body of Christ grows and builds itself up in love. Growth happens to healthy organisms.
There seems to be a double whammy going on in churches. From the perspective of leadership, at times there is frustration because people don’t seem to want to get involved in anything, or put forth any effort whatever for ministry. I’ve been on this side before and it is genuinely frustrating. Why can’t people get off their butts and get involved in something, anything? So leaders are constantly strong-arming people to get them involved, or berating them from the pulpit about their lack of involvement in whatever.
On the other hand, from the point of view of the congregation, many people feel that they don’t want to get involved in any ministry because leadership has not presented anything all that compelling. Or, maybe they would get involved in a ministry, but they feel that they don’t have what it takes to do a good job. Again, it could be as well that we have such a consumer society that many people just want to sit, be served, and leave without doing anything in return.
My question is this: What would happen if churches decided completely to sell out to the Ephesians 4 paradigm and make equipping their people for ministry their sole priority? Never mind about starting up, and running, a bunch of ministries; never mind telling people to be more bold in their efforts to evangelize the world; no more starting up and running ministries on the basis of need.
I know it is a hypothetical question. But I believe that if equipping people—truly investing in their lives—were the sole priority of a church, then organic growth would happen. People would start ministries on the basis of intentionality, gifting and passions. Church members would not agree to be a part of a ministry for which they were not gifted and passionate about. Those in leadership would know what leadership is supposed to be about, and would devote their time and energy in helping others reach their potential.
I wonder: what would happen if churches decided to stop focusing on a strategy of “weakness management”—constantly telling people they need to work on their faults and weaknesses—and instead built on their strengths? People would find out that many of their weaknesses would take care of themselves.
And what about evangelism? If people were equipped to be the best body part they could be—not trying to be something they are not—what would happen? Be the best toe you can be! I believe that a person who lives their life with intentionality, focus and passion, who knows why they are doing what they are doing, is far more compelling in terms of evangelism than a person lamely trying to slip Bible verses into every conversational crack. And the irony is, that person probably feels like a miserable failure too. But that's what happens when a toe tries to be an eye.
The ultimate question is this: Can this change be accomplished? I believe it can, but then that leads to the next question: Are churches willing to pay the price associated with changing?
Think of the typical church and ask the question: Can you tell its priority from its current structure? You can find out the answer to that by asking another question: What do its leaders spend most of their time and energy doing throughout the week? For most churches, I believe that its leaders spend the bulk of their leadership time and energy on issues of administration, solving crises of one sort or another, building maintenance and building planning issues, making sure that all the various ministries stay up and running, and planning and executing the Sunday (and possibly mid-week) services.
Now I’m not down on pastors or church leaders—don’t get me wrong. I think the point would be too easily made if I were to say, “The problem lies with the leadership of churches.” In some cases, that statement may be correct; but I wonder if more often than not, church leaders are merely living up (or down) to the expectations placed on them by the congregation itself? Are we trying to maintain some kind of status quo, or what?
When I look at Ephesians 4, it seems clear that the passage states that gifted church leadership—under the headship of Christ—are given to the church for one purpose: To equip the believers in order that they can go out and perform the works of ministry, and not only the leaders themselves. What is equipping? From my experience I believe it has to do with helping people identify who God made them to be; finding out what gifts, passions and strengths they have, and then enabling them to minister in that capacity.
The passage goes on to say that when this equipping happens, believers grow up and become mature and more like Christ. Further, when this dynamic occurs, the body of Christ grows and builds itself up in love. Growth happens to healthy organisms.
There seems to be a double whammy going on in churches. From the perspective of leadership, at times there is frustration because people don’t seem to want to get involved in anything, or put forth any effort whatever for ministry. I’ve been on this side before and it is genuinely frustrating. Why can’t people get off their butts and get involved in something, anything? So leaders are constantly strong-arming people to get them involved, or berating them from the pulpit about their lack of involvement in whatever.
On the other hand, from the point of view of the congregation, many people feel that they don’t want to get involved in any ministry because leadership has not presented anything all that compelling. Or, maybe they would get involved in a ministry, but they feel that they don’t have what it takes to do a good job. Again, it could be as well that we have such a consumer society that many people just want to sit, be served, and leave without doing anything in return.
My question is this: What would happen if churches decided completely to sell out to the Ephesians 4 paradigm and make equipping their people for ministry their sole priority? Never mind about starting up, and running, a bunch of ministries; never mind telling people to be more bold in their efforts to evangelize the world; no more starting up and running ministries on the basis of need.
I know it is a hypothetical question. But I believe that if equipping people—truly investing in their lives—were the sole priority of a church, then organic growth would happen. People would start ministries on the basis of intentionality, gifting and passions. Church members would not agree to be a part of a ministry for which they were not gifted and passionate about. Those in leadership would know what leadership is supposed to be about, and would devote their time and energy in helping others reach their potential.
I wonder: what would happen if churches decided to stop focusing on a strategy of “weakness management”—constantly telling people they need to work on their faults and weaknesses—and instead built on their strengths? People would find out that many of their weaknesses would take care of themselves.
And what about evangelism? If people were equipped to be the best body part they could be—not trying to be something they are not—what would happen? Be the best toe you can be! I believe that a person who lives their life with intentionality, focus and passion, who knows why they are doing what they are doing, is far more compelling in terms of evangelism than a person lamely trying to slip Bible verses into every conversational crack. And the irony is, that person probably feels like a miserable failure too. But that's what happens when a toe tries to be an eye.
The ultimate question is this: Can this change be accomplished? I believe it can, but then that leads to the next question: Are churches willing to pay the price associated with changing?
Monday, September 17, 2007
Redefining Evangelism
Lately I have been doing a lot of thinking about the concept of evangelism as it is generally taught in conservative, evangelical churches. If you’re anything like me, this is what you've heard, the general message from the front: “You need to witness more. You’re not doing enough to spread the good news of the gospel. You need to be bolder, more confrontational; you need to tell more people you meet about Jesus. Swallow your fears and do whatever it takes—hand out tracts, leave tracts in bathrooms, leave tracts on your co-workers desks or work stations, whatever. Just do it, because it’s what God says in the Bible we should be doing.”
Or words to that effect. Basically the message I get is that I’m not evangelizing enough, that I could and should be doing more, that I am generally a failure. And, that evangelism consists of quoting Bible verses to people and telling them what the gospel consists of: the good news of Jesus dying on the cross to be their personal savior.
We heard a guy in church recently who is an expert on evangelism, and he shared story after story of how, wherever he goes, he tries to “be the light” that Jesus spoke of that is not “hidden under a bowl.” For him, this means that everywhere he goes, he tries somehow to work Jesus into the conversation, or give out a Bible, whether he’s at the grocery store, watching planes take off and land (it’s a hobby for some people apparently), or doing balloon art on the streets. I was almost surprised he didn't tell the "sitting on the airplane and leading someone to Christ" story.
But I noticed one conspicuous element absent from his talk—there was absolutely no mention of any kind of relationship-building with these people, or that in the context of that passage it refers to people "seeing our good works and glorifying God." Hard to do that outside of the context of a relationship, isn't it?
It would seem that most of his conversations are like “cold calls,” where somebody tries to sell you something door-to-door or over the phone. However, what was all over his sermon was how we should do it like him—be bolder, “be the light,” always be on the lookout wherever we are for an opportunity to “share the gospel”—the good news.
I am willing to bet good money that most people hearing sermons like this walk away feeling like shameful failures because they can not, or are unable to do it like this guy. After all, he does this for a living! He’s a successful example of what Christian evangelism is supposed to be all about! Isn’t he?
Well, I have some reservations about it. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying the guy hasn’t actually done some good, planted some seeds, or led some people to the Lord. I’m sure he has. But I wonder about motivating people by making them feel like they aren’t doing enough, intentionally (or unintentionally) shaming them into feeling like failures for God.
Reflecting on this sermon, I had some thoughts on what I call a model of “Leadership Evangelism.” It involves seven points based on a leadership paradigm we came up with several years ago for our church that I have adapted to fit into an evangelism context. It begins with the initial premise and then works backward to a conclusion. Here goes:
1. Leadership is influence. Maxwell said it, and I believe it is true. Granted, influence comes by way of a lot of different means: wealth, position, social status, etc. These are not the means of influence I am advocating here.
2. Influence is not manipulation. Manipulation involves deviousness, trickery, or the idea of presenting something such that the person presenting it knows it is false, but does so because it is personally advantageous. So what is influence, as I define it?
3. Influence is inviting another person to experience a new reality or paradigm by first consistently modeling the effects of that new reality in your own life. To establish that the new paradigm has any validity whatsoever, some sort of positive outcome must be demonstrated. This can establish a level of relevance, which will be compelling to some.
4. Ideally, people are influenced by someone else they trust. Generally speaking, people will not value the word of a person that they know cannot be trusted. So how does one establish trust with another person?
5. Trust is earned by demonstrating consistent faithfulness over a long period of time, in the context of a relationship. Trust is not established overnight; it takes many months or years of modeling consistent, faithful behavior to build a higher level of “trust equity.”
6. We have to earn the right to tell a nonbeliever about the gospel. Because the church and Christianity has such a deservedly bad reputation, we are fighting an uphill battle. We have to work twice as hard to gain half as much, but this is simply the reality of our situation.
7. Being a friend to a nonbeliever is doing evangelism. This right here takes most of the pressure and the guilt right off. All you have to do is be a friend, and you are evangelizing.
Sometimes evangelism is a “one-off” type of situation, such as Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch. And for this guy who spoke, if he has the gift of evangelism, then these one-offs might be just the ticket--for him. But what if that approach doesn't work for me?
When we orient the discussion in terms of giftedness and 1 Corinthians 12, then him expecting others to be like him is, to use Paul's metaphor, to expect a toe to become an eye. Maybe for me, I can't be an eye because I am a toe.
However, we can't escape the reality that all believers are supposed to evangelize on some level. What I'm arguing is that--in the context of giftedness--if you are a toe, then be the best toe you can be. I wonder if that just might be a whole lot more compelling than trying to be something you're not. Being a faithful friend to a nonbeliever, simply being yourself and not trying to force the issue all the time under compulsion, may be the most balanced alternative here.
Or words to that effect. Basically the message I get is that I’m not evangelizing enough, that I could and should be doing more, that I am generally a failure. And, that evangelism consists of quoting Bible verses to people and telling them what the gospel consists of: the good news of Jesus dying on the cross to be their personal savior.
We heard a guy in church recently who is an expert on evangelism, and he shared story after story of how, wherever he goes, he tries to “be the light” that Jesus spoke of that is not “hidden under a bowl.” For him, this means that everywhere he goes, he tries somehow to work Jesus into the conversation, or give out a Bible, whether he’s at the grocery store, watching planes take off and land (it’s a hobby for some people apparently), or doing balloon art on the streets. I was almost surprised he didn't tell the "sitting on the airplane and leading someone to Christ" story.
But I noticed one conspicuous element absent from his talk—there was absolutely no mention of any kind of relationship-building with these people, or that in the context of that passage it refers to people "seeing our good works and glorifying God." Hard to do that outside of the context of a relationship, isn't it?
It would seem that most of his conversations are like “cold calls,” where somebody tries to sell you something door-to-door or over the phone. However, what was all over his sermon was how we should do it like him—be bolder, “be the light,” always be on the lookout wherever we are for an opportunity to “share the gospel”—the good news.
I am willing to bet good money that most people hearing sermons like this walk away feeling like shameful failures because they can not, or are unable to do it like this guy. After all, he does this for a living! He’s a successful example of what Christian evangelism is supposed to be all about! Isn’t he?
Well, I have some reservations about it. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying the guy hasn’t actually done some good, planted some seeds, or led some people to the Lord. I’m sure he has. But I wonder about motivating people by making them feel like they aren’t doing enough, intentionally (or unintentionally) shaming them into feeling like failures for God.
Reflecting on this sermon, I had some thoughts on what I call a model of “Leadership Evangelism.” It involves seven points based on a leadership paradigm we came up with several years ago for our church that I have adapted to fit into an evangelism context. It begins with the initial premise and then works backward to a conclusion. Here goes:
1. Leadership is influence. Maxwell said it, and I believe it is true. Granted, influence comes by way of a lot of different means: wealth, position, social status, etc. These are not the means of influence I am advocating here.
2. Influence is not manipulation. Manipulation involves deviousness, trickery, or the idea of presenting something such that the person presenting it knows it is false, but does so because it is personally advantageous. So what is influence, as I define it?
3. Influence is inviting another person to experience a new reality or paradigm by first consistently modeling the effects of that new reality in your own life. To establish that the new paradigm has any validity whatsoever, some sort of positive outcome must be demonstrated. This can establish a level of relevance, which will be compelling to some.
4. Ideally, people are influenced by someone else they trust. Generally speaking, people will not value the word of a person that they know cannot be trusted. So how does one establish trust with another person?
5. Trust is earned by demonstrating consistent faithfulness over a long period of time, in the context of a relationship. Trust is not established overnight; it takes many months or years of modeling consistent, faithful behavior to build a higher level of “trust equity.”
6. We have to earn the right to tell a nonbeliever about the gospel. Because the church and Christianity has such a deservedly bad reputation, we are fighting an uphill battle. We have to work twice as hard to gain half as much, but this is simply the reality of our situation.
7. Being a friend to a nonbeliever is doing evangelism. This right here takes most of the pressure and the guilt right off. All you have to do is be a friend, and you are evangelizing.
Sometimes evangelism is a “one-off” type of situation, such as Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch. And for this guy who spoke, if he has the gift of evangelism, then these one-offs might be just the ticket--for him. But what if that approach doesn't work for me?
When we orient the discussion in terms of giftedness and 1 Corinthians 12, then him expecting others to be like him is, to use Paul's metaphor, to expect a toe to become an eye. Maybe for me, I can't be an eye because I am a toe.
However, we can't escape the reality that all believers are supposed to evangelize on some level. What I'm arguing is that--in the context of giftedness--if you are a toe, then be the best toe you can be. I wonder if that just might be a whole lot more compelling than trying to be something you're not. Being a faithful friend to a nonbeliever, simply being yourself and not trying to force the issue all the time under compulsion, may be the most balanced alternative here.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Giving Up on the Church
I think it is indeed true: I have officially given up on the church.
Now what do I mean when I say “church”? Surely that is too broad, and it is. I mean: The Western church, the traditional type of church with which most of us are familiar. I do not mean necessarily “conservative” or “liberal” churches, but I include both really, as both are in many ways products of—and reactions to—Enlightenment modernism. One can be equally dogmatic and be a fundamentalist conservative or a fundamentalist liberal.
So does that mean I am saying, “There should be no more churches, ever?” We should just do away with all churches period? Surely that sounds a bit harsh, doesn’t it? Actually I am not saying there should never be any more churches. So technically I am not saying that churches should be done away with. No, I believe there is a need for churches. One cannot get away from the reality that God decided, for some reason, to create this thing called “the church” and that it exists to fulfill his purposes somehow in establishing his kingdom. Kinda hard to argue with him, isn’t it?
So what is my point here? I guess that what I am saying is this: My argument is that by and large, the way church is being done in the West, is not really working. I believe that when nonbelievers take a look at the church, their reaction is that the message of the church is not in the least relevant to their lives or situations. And because it is not relevant, it is—by definition—not compelling in any way, shape or form. If something is not relevant then it will not be compelling. Conversely, if something is relevant, then it will be compelling.
I think it has become a very tough sell for churches, this idea of “How do we relate to the world?” The issue has become one of points of contact. Ask yourself honestly, if you have any nonbelieving friends: Would I—could I—invite my nonbeliever friend to my church without feeling embarrassed for him or her at some point during the service? Maybe some would say that they could, and that would be great. But I think the majority would say that church is for “in-house people,” people who are already believers. I mean, the language used in a service is oftentimes highly theological (and thus obscure and irrelevant). And how many of your nonbelieving friends out there sing in any kind of corporate gathering, unless they are part of some Welsh men’s choir or something?
So then the question becomes: “Why would I invite a nonbeliever to my church?” What indeed would be the point of it? Now I grant you, there are lots of Christians out there who somehow found their way into a church and got saved. I know of one friend personally who has that story. Clearly it was a God thing. In fact I think that ultimately church growth must be a God thing, otherwise we would formulize it (though we have certainly tried—pick up some books on church growth methods) and every church would use the formula and grow.
But in giving up on the church, I have found a wonderful thing has happened. I no longer have to defend the church, which tends to be a large part of the conversation when talking with nonbelievers. I have had recently two conversations with avowed atheists, and each one was surprised when I told them I had given up on the church. They said much the same thing, for a lot of the same reasons I cite above. When I mentioned that I am on a quest personally to find out what it means to have a relationship with a God that one cannot see or communicate with person-to-person, they said much the same thing. The only difference between them and me is that I’m asking those questions from a perspective of faith while they were not. Though I have given up on the church, I have not given up on God.
Funny thing though, that I have perhaps more in common with atheists these days than other believers.
So what can be done about these problems? Of course there is no surefire “answer”—that would be too easy. I just wonder if we had the courage to ask these kinds of questions--and to act on them: Why are we doing what we are doing, at any point in our church? And if you can’t come up with a compelling answer as to why, then seriously think about scrapping it.
Where does it say that we have to have a church building? Think about how much money gets spent every year simply on maintenance and building upgrades, just to keep things looking nice. Where does it say that we have to have a service every Sunday morning (and/or Wednesday nights) complete with the following: Announcements, worship music, special music, and a sermon, followed by “fellowship time?”
Seriously, where does it say all this? Not in the Bible. All I can find is that it says not to forsake the regular gathering together, but it doesn’t indicate that gathering takes place in a multi-million dollar facility every Sunday, with all the other accoutrements we feel are so necessary to have in order to “do church.”
Margaret Thatcher a few years ago took a look at the British economy and decided that it was too dependent on manufacturing and coal mining. She reasoned that in 20 years or so, if things were left the way they were, the UK’s economy would not be internationally viable. So she simply closed down mills and coalmines. It was a brutal time for the country, for those who depended on those jobs. But she knew it had to be done, or within a few decades the UK would be in serious trouble.
Sometimes we need to cut our losses when we finally see the reality, that things aren’t working, that within 20 years the church as we know it will not be viable any more. Would it be difficult? Absolutely.
Painful? Yes.
But I ask: What is the alternative if things stay the way they are now?
Now what do I mean when I say “church”? Surely that is too broad, and it is. I mean: The Western church, the traditional type of church with which most of us are familiar. I do not mean necessarily “conservative” or “liberal” churches, but I include both really, as both are in many ways products of—and reactions to—Enlightenment modernism. One can be equally dogmatic and be a fundamentalist conservative or a fundamentalist liberal.
So does that mean I am saying, “There should be no more churches, ever?” We should just do away with all churches period? Surely that sounds a bit harsh, doesn’t it? Actually I am not saying there should never be any more churches. So technically I am not saying that churches should be done away with. No, I believe there is a need for churches. One cannot get away from the reality that God decided, for some reason, to create this thing called “the church” and that it exists to fulfill his purposes somehow in establishing his kingdom. Kinda hard to argue with him, isn’t it?
So what is my point here? I guess that what I am saying is this: My argument is that by and large, the way church is being done in the West, is not really working. I believe that when nonbelievers take a look at the church, their reaction is that the message of the church is not in the least relevant to their lives or situations. And because it is not relevant, it is—by definition—not compelling in any way, shape or form. If something is not relevant then it will not be compelling. Conversely, if something is relevant, then it will be compelling.
I think it has become a very tough sell for churches, this idea of “How do we relate to the world?” The issue has become one of points of contact. Ask yourself honestly, if you have any nonbelieving friends: Would I—could I—invite my nonbeliever friend to my church without feeling embarrassed for him or her at some point during the service? Maybe some would say that they could, and that would be great. But I think the majority would say that church is for “in-house people,” people who are already believers. I mean, the language used in a service is oftentimes highly theological (and thus obscure and irrelevant). And how many of your nonbelieving friends out there sing in any kind of corporate gathering, unless they are part of some Welsh men’s choir or something?
So then the question becomes: “Why would I invite a nonbeliever to my church?” What indeed would be the point of it? Now I grant you, there are lots of Christians out there who somehow found their way into a church and got saved. I know of one friend personally who has that story. Clearly it was a God thing. In fact I think that ultimately church growth must be a God thing, otherwise we would formulize it (though we have certainly tried—pick up some books on church growth methods) and every church would use the formula and grow.
But in giving up on the church, I have found a wonderful thing has happened. I no longer have to defend the church, which tends to be a large part of the conversation when talking with nonbelievers. I have had recently two conversations with avowed atheists, and each one was surprised when I told them I had given up on the church. They said much the same thing, for a lot of the same reasons I cite above. When I mentioned that I am on a quest personally to find out what it means to have a relationship with a God that one cannot see or communicate with person-to-person, they said much the same thing. The only difference between them and me is that I’m asking those questions from a perspective of faith while they were not. Though I have given up on the church, I have not given up on God.
Funny thing though, that I have perhaps more in common with atheists these days than other believers.
So what can be done about these problems? Of course there is no surefire “answer”—that would be too easy. I just wonder if we had the courage to ask these kinds of questions--and to act on them: Why are we doing what we are doing, at any point in our church? And if you can’t come up with a compelling answer as to why, then seriously think about scrapping it.
Where does it say that we have to have a church building? Think about how much money gets spent every year simply on maintenance and building upgrades, just to keep things looking nice. Where does it say that we have to have a service every Sunday morning (and/or Wednesday nights) complete with the following: Announcements, worship music, special music, and a sermon, followed by “fellowship time?”
Seriously, where does it say all this? Not in the Bible. All I can find is that it says not to forsake the regular gathering together, but it doesn’t indicate that gathering takes place in a multi-million dollar facility every Sunday, with all the other accoutrements we feel are so necessary to have in order to “do church.”
Margaret Thatcher a few years ago took a look at the British economy and decided that it was too dependent on manufacturing and coal mining. She reasoned that in 20 years or so, if things were left the way they were, the UK’s economy would not be internationally viable. So she simply closed down mills and coalmines. It was a brutal time for the country, for those who depended on those jobs. But she knew it had to be done, or within a few decades the UK would be in serious trouble.
Sometimes we need to cut our losses when we finally see the reality, that things aren’t working, that within 20 years the church as we know it will not be viable any more. Would it be difficult? Absolutely.
Painful? Yes.
But I ask: What is the alternative if things stay the way they are now?
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
The Man in the Plastic Mask
Once upon a time there was a man who had an ugly face. His face was not always ugly; he had been born a normal child with a basically normal face. However, over the course of his life his face became increasingly disfigured until he could hardly stand to look at himself in the mirror. As ugly as his face was, all of his friends’ faces looked much like his own, so at least he felt fairly comfortable around his own ugly kind. At least his ugly friends seemed to accept him for what he was.
One day the ugly man came into contact with some people who had perfect faces, smooth and beautiful with no noticeable blemishes at all. One even deigned to talk to him, and though the perfect-faced man was somewhat condescending, he let the ugly-faced man know that it was possible for him to have a perfect face like his. How could this be, the ugly man asked. How did your face come to be so perfect? I’ll let you in on a secret, replied the perfect-faced man. My face was once ugly just like yours. But when I joined this exclusive club, my ugly face was transformed to become the perfect one you see now.
For months after this conversation, the ugly man pondered these words. A small seed of hope had been planted in his heart. Could it actually be true? Was there a possibility that his ugly face could be transformed into a thing of beauty like the perfect-faced man? One day he decided he needed to check into this exclusive club of which the perfect-faced man spoke. So he sought out the club and with much fear, entered through the front door and took a seat at the back of the room.
As he sat down in the chair, every person in the room turned to stare at him. He was somewhat taken aback when he realized that every face staring at him was perfect. In their eyes he saw many emotions reflected—fear, judgment, anger, pity, loathing. It was all he could do not to get up then and there and simply walk out, but the possibility that he could have a perfect face just like all of theirs held him in his seat. During the meeting many perfect-faced people stood up in the front and shared how their faces had once been ugly, but due to their membership in the club, their faces were now perfect. How he longed to be like one of them!
After the meeting no one talked to him. Some walked by and acknowledged his presence with a cold nod, while others stared in open revulsion at his ugly face. He felt ashamed and fled the meeting without trying to talk to any of the perfect-faced people. Nonetheless week after week he came to the meetings, the hope of one day having a perfect face drawing him back despite the coldness of his reception.
Finally after months of attending meetings he decided he needed to join this exclusive, perfect-faced club. He went through the elaborate rituals designed for members and, although he felt better about himself on the inside, to his surprise no immediate changes to his face were evident. He went on attending the meetings, but it was painfully obvious that he was still as ugly-faced as ever. Sitting in the back of the room he tried to ignore the sometimes hostile or judgmental looks given him by some of the perfect-faced people. Even though he was now a member, still no one paid much attention to him. Clearly something was wrong, and his presence disturbed the others. What was the ugly man to do?
Sitting at home, the ugly man faced a dilemma. Should he quit the club, given his reception by the perfect-faced people? Yet if he did that, his hopes of having a perfect face might never be realized. So he came to a decision, the only possible alternative he could think of: He would help himself the only way he knew how. He would craft a mask to cover up his ugliness, and maybe given time his ugly face would truly be transformed and he would not need the mask anymore.
Although he was not artistic, the man tried his best, fashioning a crude paper-mache mask held in place with a string around his head. He painted the mask with flesh-tone paint and put in on just prior to the perfect-faced club’s weekly meeting. To his complete surprise, this day was to be different than all the rest. None of the perfect-faced people commented on his mask, but many, many people actually talked to him. For the first time he felt that there was a possibility of acceptance.
Over the months and years the ugly-faced man improved his mask, moving from his original crude paper-mache to more sophisticated plaster masks, finally settling on a state-of-the-art plastic, flesh-colored mask that realistically approximated actual skin. At last he had a perfect face just like all the others. Only the man knew that under the plastic mask his face was still as ugly as at the beginning, but he was now a respected member of the perfect-faced club in good standing.
Slowly he came to the realization that all of the others wore masks like his. From time to time their masks would slip and he would catch a glimpse of the true ugliness that lay beneath the plastic. But because everyone in the club played the game, and acceptance was based on outward appearance, the stakes of removing the masks were simply too high; so everybody continued to put forth the effort to keep their masks on and looking good.
At first the ugly-faced man only wore his mask to club meetings, but as years passed it became imperative for him to wear it all the time, at home or at work. Though he was just as ugly as before, he felt that it would be disloyal to the club to admit that their alleged program of true face-change was in fact not working at all. For the first time in his life he felt accepted, and although he knew deep down that its basis was false, it still felt good. So he kept up the masquerade along with everybody else, although it became increasingly difficult to live what he felt to be a double life. He knew that the mask was truly not who he was, but there was never any place safe enough for him to take off the mask and admit the truth. Besides, in all of the years of his membership of the club he had never once seen anyone take off their mask voluntarily for any reason.
Finally one day the ugly-faced man had had enough of the charade. He came to the painful decision that he was going to admit the truth that he was still ugly, and he was going to take off his mask in front of all the other perfect-faced people at the club. Standing up in front of everyone at the next club meeting, the man admitted to all the others that he had worn a mask for years, but that underneath he was just as ugly as before. Nothing had really changed.
During his talk the man reached back behind his head and untied the string that held his mask in place, taking it off in front of the others. He heard horrified gasps as the perfect-faced people saw his true ugliness, some for the first time ever. He told them that he knew that underneath their masks they were all just as ugly as he was, and that if they all took off their masks at the same time, they would realize that they were actually all the same.
Some members fainted dead away; others covered their eyes, refusing to gaze upon his ugliness. Others reacted angrily, muttering, “Who does he think he is? Look how ugly he is!” The club leaders quickly stood up and, grasping him by the elbows, propelled him down the aisle as the perfect-faced club members darted angry glances at him. The leaders pushed him to the door and told him never to return to the club, that his membership was revoked for life.
“But I thought you were my true friends!” the ugly man protested as they shoved him out the door. One leader looked him in the eye and stated flatly, “If you had kept your mask on, we’d still be your friends.”
One day the ugly man came into contact with some people who had perfect faces, smooth and beautiful with no noticeable blemishes at all. One even deigned to talk to him, and though the perfect-faced man was somewhat condescending, he let the ugly-faced man know that it was possible for him to have a perfect face like his. How could this be, the ugly man asked. How did your face come to be so perfect? I’ll let you in on a secret, replied the perfect-faced man. My face was once ugly just like yours. But when I joined this exclusive club, my ugly face was transformed to become the perfect one you see now.
For months after this conversation, the ugly man pondered these words. A small seed of hope had been planted in his heart. Could it actually be true? Was there a possibility that his ugly face could be transformed into a thing of beauty like the perfect-faced man? One day he decided he needed to check into this exclusive club of which the perfect-faced man spoke. So he sought out the club and with much fear, entered through the front door and took a seat at the back of the room.
As he sat down in the chair, every person in the room turned to stare at him. He was somewhat taken aback when he realized that every face staring at him was perfect. In their eyes he saw many emotions reflected—fear, judgment, anger, pity, loathing. It was all he could do not to get up then and there and simply walk out, but the possibility that he could have a perfect face just like all of theirs held him in his seat. During the meeting many perfect-faced people stood up in the front and shared how their faces had once been ugly, but due to their membership in the club, their faces were now perfect. How he longed to be like one of them!
After the meeting no one talked to him. Some walked by and acknowledged his presence with a cold nod, while others stared in open revulsion at his ugly face. He felt ashamed and fled the meeting without trying to talk to any of the perfect-faced people. Nonetheless week after week he came to the meetings, the hope of one day having a perfect face drawing him back despite the coldness of his reception.
Finally after months of attending meetings he decided he needed to join this exclusive, perfect-faced club. He went through the elaborate rituals designed for members and, although he felt better about himself on the inside, to his surprise no immediate changes to his face were evident. He went on attending the meetings, but it was painfully obvious that he was still as ugly-faced as ever. Sitting in the back of the room he tried to ignore the sometimes hostile or judgmental looks given him by some of the perfect-faced people. Even though he was now a member, still no one paid much attention to him. Clearly something was wrong, and his presence disturbed the others. What was the ugly man to do?
Sitting at home, the ugly man faced a dilemma. Should he quit the club, given his reception by the perfect-faced people? Yet if he did that, his hopes of having a perfect face might never be realized. So he came to a decision, the only possible alternative he could think of: He would help himself the only way he knew how. He would craft a mask to cover up his ugliness, and maybe given time his ugly face would truly be transformed and he would not need the mask anymore.
Although he was not artistic, the man tried his best, fashioning a crude paper-mache mask held in place with a string around his head. He painted the mask with flesh-tone paint and put in on just prior to the perfect-faced club’s weekly meeting. To his complete surprise, this day was to be different than all the rest. None of the perfect-faced people commented on his mask, but many, many people actually talked to him. For the first time he felt that there was a possibility of acceptance.
Over the months and years the ugly-faced man improved his mask, moving from his original crude paper-mache to more sophisticated plaster masks, finally settling on a state-of-the-art plastic, flesh-colored mask that realistically approximated actual skin. At last he had a perfect face just like all the others. Only the man knew that under the plastic mask his face was still as ugly as at the beginning, but he was now a respected member of the perfect-faced club in good standing.
Slowly he came to the realization that all of the others wore masks like his. From time to time their masks would slip and he would catch a glimpse of the true ugliness that lay beneath the plastic. But because everyone in the club played the game, and acceptance was based on outward appearance, the stakes of removing the masks were simply too high; so everybody continued to put forth the effort to keep their masks on and looking good.
At first the ugly-faced man only wore his mask to club meetings, but as years passed it became imperative for him to wear it all the time, at home or at work. Though he was just as ugly as before, he felt that it would be disloyal to the club to admit that their alleged program of true face-change was in fact not working at all. For the first time in his life he felt accepted, and although he knew deep down that its basis was false, it still felt good. So he kept up the masquerade along with everybody else, although it became increasingly difficult to live what he felt to be a double life. He knew that the mask was truly not who he was, but there was never any place safe enough for him to take off the mask and admit the truth. Besides, in all of the years of his membership of the club he had never once seen anyone take off their mask voluntarily for any reason.
Finally one day the ugly-faced man had had enough of the charade. He came to the painful decision that he was going to admit the truth that he was still ugly, and he was going to take off his mask in front of all the other perfect-faced people at the club. Standing up in front of everyone at the next club meeting, the man admitted to all the others that he had worn a mask for years, but that underneath he was just as ugly as before. Nothing had really changed.
During his talk the man reached back behind his head and untied the string that held his mask in place, taking it off in front of the others. He heard horrified gasps as the perfect-faced people saw his true ugliness, some for the first time ever. He told them that he knew that underneath their masks they were all just as ugly as he was, and that if they all took off their masks at the same time, they would realize that they were actually all the same.
Some members fainted dead away; others covered their eyes, refusing to gaze upon his ugliness. Others reacted angrily, muttering, “Who does he think he is? Look how ugly he is!” The club leaders quickly stood up and, grasping him by the elbows, propelled him down the aisle as the perfect-faced club members darted angry glances at him. The leaders pushed him to the door and told him never to return to the club, that his membership was revoked for life.
“But I thought you were my true friends!” the ugly man protested as they shoved him out the door. One leader looked him in the eye and stated flatly, “If you had kept your mask on, we’d still be your friends.”
Monday, July 30, 2007
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