when one of “the company” announced plans to leave his congregation for one three times its size, peterson felt compelled to write him a letter.  and, in turn, i feel compelled to share a portion of that letter here…

I certainly understand the appeal (of ministry in a larger context) and feel it myself frequently.  But I am also suspicious of the appeal and believe that gratifying it is destructive both to the gospel and the pastoral vocation.  It is the kind of thing America specializes in, and one of the consequences is that American religion and the pastoral vocation are in a shabby state.

It is also the kind of thing for which we have abundant documentation through twenty centuries now, of debilitating both congregation and pastor.  In general terms it is the devil’s temptation to Jesus to throw himself from the pinnacle of the temple.  Every time the church’s leaders depersonalize, even a little, the worshipping/loving community, the gospel is weakened.  And size is the great depersonalizer.  Kierkegaard’s criticism is still cogent: “the more people, the less truth.”

The only way the Christian life is brought to maturity is through intimacy, renunciation, and personal deepening.  And the pastor is in a key position to nurture such maturity.  It is true that these things can take place in the context of large congregations, but only by strenuously going against the grain.  Largeness is an impediment, not a help.

Classically, there are three ways in which humans try to find transcendence–religious meaning, God meaning–apart from God as revealed in cross of Jesus: through the ecstasy of alcohol and drugs, through the ecstasy of recreational sex, through the ecstasy of crowds.  Church leaders frequently warn against the drugs and the sex, but, at least in America, almost never against the crowds.  Probably because they get so much ego benefit from the crowds.

But a crowd destroys the spirit as thoroughly as excessive drink and depersonalized sex.  It takes us out of ourselves, but not to God, only away from him.  The religious hunger is rooted in the unsatisfactory nature of the self.  We hunger to escape the dullness, the boredom, the tiresomeness of me.  We can escape upward or downward.  Drugs and depersonalized sex are a false transcendence downward.  A crowd is an exercise in false transcendence upward, which is why crowds and spiritually pretty much the same, whether at football games, political rallies, or church.

So why are pastors so unsuspicious of crowds, so naive about the false transcendence they engender?  Why are we so knowledgeable in the false transcendence of drink and sex and so unlearned in the false transcendence of crowds?  There are many spiritual masters in our tradition who diagnose and warn, but they are little read today.  I myself have never written what I really feel on the subject, maybe because I am not entirely sure of myself, there being so few pastors alive today who agree.  Or maybe it is because I don’t want to risk wholesale repudiation by friends whom I genuinely like and respect.  But I really do feel that crowds are a worse danger, far worse, than drink or sex, and pastors may be the only people on the planet who are in the position to encourage an imagination that conceives of congregation strategically not in terms of its size, but as a congenial setting for becoming mature in Christ in a community, not a crowd.

Your present congregation is close to ideal in size to employ your pastoral vocation for forming Christian maturity.  You talked about “multiplying your influence.”  My apprehension is that your anticipated move will diminish your vocation, not enhance it.

i realize this is probably not the proper forum for confession, but the sentiment of that letter crushes me into brokenness.  it forces me to my knees in confession of my misdirected pursuit of transcendence, and to repentance of my secret yearning for “ego benefit from the crowds.”  you see, i have been guilty of pursuing growth as a sort-of vindication.  and i have been guilty of viewing my church as a product to be marketed and, thus, my people a commodity–or worse, as a sales force to be galvanized aroung my “calling.”

so what do you think, sage readers?  Could it be that crowds are “a worse danger, far worse, than drink or sex“?

In the secularizing times in which I am living, God is not taken seriously.  God is peripheral. God is nice (or maybe not so nice) but not at the center.  When people want help with their parents or children or emotions, they ordinarily do not see themselves as wanting help with God.  But if I am going to stay true to my vocation as a pastor, I can’t let the “market” determine what I do.  I will find ways to pray with and for people and teach them to pray, usually quietly and often subversively when they don’t know I am doing it.  But I’m not going to wait to be asked.  I am a pastor.

more cool stuff from eugene peterson’s memoir, “the pastor:”

I found myself going to work every day in a church.  I was not just pastor.  I was pastor of a church, a congregation.  Pastor was not an autonomous vocation.  Pastor was not a vocation negotiated privately between me and God.  There was a third party–congregation.  As it turned out, the congregation and I didn’t have much in common.  It turned out that what I had signed up for required spending a term in church boot camp to get a basic orientation in the conditions I would be dealing with as pastor of a church.

What I wasn’t prepared for was the low level of interest that men and women in my congregation had in God and the scriptures, prayer and their souls.  Not that they didn’t believe and value these things; they just weren’t very interested.  I had assumed that it would be self-evident to a congregation that the vocation of pastor had primarily to do with God.  And I had assumed that the primary reason that Christians became part of a congregation had to do with God.  They would come to church because they were interested in God and the scriptures, prayer and their souls.  And I would be the person expected to give guidance and encouragement to matters of God and scripture, prayer and their souls.

It didn’t happen.  I couldn’t have been farther off the mark.

This lack of common cause resulted in what seemed to me was a lot of religious clutter, much of what struck me was an accumulation of trivia.  My imagination had been schooled in the company of Moses and David; my congregation kept emotional and mental company with television celebrities and star athletes.  I was reading Karl Barth and John Calvin; they were reading Ann Landers and People magazine.

One of the attractions for Jan and me in accepting this assignment to organize a new congregation was the prospect of forming a church of disciplined and committed Christians, focused and energetic.  I think I had the image of a congregation of Green Berets for Jesus.  No half-Christians, no almost-Christians, but the real thing.

I had imagined that when word got around that a new congregation was being formed, it would attract men and women who were willing to take risks, who were prepared to make sacrifices, who weren’t interested in comfortable pews…After six weeks of what felt like the most demeaning work in which I had ever engaged…forty-six people showed up.  None of them were Green Berets.

This was our embryo congregation.  In three months there were a hundred of us, charter members, and christened as Christ Our King Presbyterian Church.  This would be Jan and my workplace for the next thirty years.  And still no Green Berets.

peterson digresses at this point to tell the story of david’s outpost at ziklag.

Ziklag: for me this became the premier biblical site for realizing that when we get serious about the Christian life, we eventually end up in a place and among people decidedly uncongenial to what we expected.  At least uncongenial to what I expected.  That place and people is often called a church.  It is hard to get over the disappointment that God, having made an exception in my case, didn’t seem to call nice, accomplished, courteous, alert people to worship.

I was now well on my way to learning that congregation is a place of stories.  The stories of Jesus, to be sure.  But also the stories of men and women I had grown up with…and now the stories that I was hearing in my new neighborhood.  It is never just my story; it is a community of stories.  I learn my story in company with others.  Each story affects and is affected by each of the others.  Many of these others are distressed, in debt and discontent–or out of tune, angry, rude, or asleep.  This complicates things enormously, but there’s no getting around it.  We’re a congregation.  We’re looking for meaning to our lives.  We catch a thread of the plot and begin to follow it, receiving the good news that God is gracious, receiving the sacraments of God’s actions in our actual lives.  And then we bump up against someone else’s story that we don’t even recognize as a story and are thrown off balance.  Distracted, we stumble.

This is my workplace.

And every once is a while a shaft of blazing beauty seems to break out of nowhere and illuminates these companies.  I see what my sin-dulled eyes had missed: Word of God-shaped, Holy Spirit-created lives of sacrificial humility, incredible courage, heroic virtue, holy praise, joyful offering, constant prayer, persevering obedience–Shekinah.  And sometimes I don’t–Ziklag.

for those friends of mine who visit this space regularly that are not in vocational ministry, i cannot begin to describe how beautifully and accurately peterson has described my terrible, wonderful existence.  i often feel like god played a sick joke on me when he called me to be a pastor, and yet i wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.  when jaycene and i started the fellowship i lead, i had dreams of grandeur.  i fully expected god to assemble “a church of disciplined and committed Christians, focused and energetic…a congregation of Green Berets for Jesus.  No half-Christians, no almost-Christians, but the real thing.”  to be completely honest, even after sixteen years i still watch the back door every sunday morning for any sign of the god-sent spiritual militia.

as of this writing, they still have not arrived.

but peterson’s experience and wisdom bring me great hope (and perhaps those of my friends who are church leaders can attest to this) in that, even though things have not transpired as i had hoped or expected, i know god is sovereign and his busy “doing this thing” in my context.  this rabble that i am privileged to worship with every weekend is my family–arranged and ordained by god–and we are learning together (even after sixteen years of frustration) what it means to be a congregation.

semper fi.

An altercation between an 8-year old schoolgirl and a crowd of ultra-Orthodox Jews prompted a heated debate over Israel’s national identity.  The girl was spat upon and called a prostitute by a group of Haredim, or “God-fearing” believers, who deemed her shirtsleeves and skirt immodest. The incident incensed secular Israelis–already resentful because many ultra-Orthodox don’t work but instead receive government funds to pursue religious study–and highlighted growing divides in the Jewish state.

my first thought after reading this story: man, i wish i could receive government funds to pursue religious study.

my second thought: so i guess the pharisees are still around.

(and a bonus thought for the determined few, ultra-orthodox blog readers that persevered to this point…)

i’ll bet that little girl would be spat upon in some american churches i’ve visited.

i like saying that word.  it makes me feel naughty.

indulge me while i share a few lines:

North American culture does not offer congenial conditions in which to live vocationally as a pastor. Men and women who are pastors in America today find that they have entered into a way of life that is in ruins. The vocation of pastor has been replaced by the strategies of religious entrepeneurs with business plans. Any kind of continuity with pastors in times past is virtually nonexistent. We are a generation that feels as if it is having to start out from scratch to figure out a way to represent and nurture this richly nuanced and all-involving life of Christ in a country that “knew not Joseph.”

I love being an American. I love this place in which I have been placed–it’s language, its history, its energy. But I don’t love “the American way,” its culture and values. I don’t love the rampant consumerism that treats God as a product to be marketed. I don’t love the dehumanizing ways that turn men, women and children into impersonal roles and causes and statistics. I don’t love the competitive spirit that treats others as rivals and even as enemies. The cultural conditions in which I am immersed require, at least for me, a kind of fierce vigilance to guard my vocation from these cultural pollutants so dangerously toxic to persons who want to follow Jesus in the way that he is Jesus.

peterson speaks to the far-too-common pattern of pastors/congregations leaving one another.

I wonder if at the root of the defection is a cultural assumption that all leaders are people who “get things done,” and “make things happen.” That is certainly true of the primary leadership models that seep into our awareness from the culture–politicians, businessmen, advertisers, publicists, celebrities, and athletes. But while being a pastor certainly has some of these components, the pervasive element in our two-thousand year pastoral tradition is not someone who “gets things done” but rather the person placed in the community to pay attention and call attention to “what is going on right now” between men and women, with one another and with God–this kingdom of God that is primarily local, relentlessly personal, and prayerful “without ceasing.”

being a christ-follower is, by definition, incarnational.

so is pastoring.

i am current reading five books simultaneously.  it’s an irritating habit, but i can’t seem to help myself. i get a new book, read a few pages, and i’m hooked.

the most compelling book (to me, at least) of the five is gene peterson’s memoir, “the pastor.”  it is so moving (to me, at least) that i cannot resist sharing a few bits of it here, even though i’m only half-way through.  i don’t mean to spoil for others who plan to read it, but i do hope to encourage some of my colleagues who might be struggling with this special, terrible vocation.   here is the first installation.  enjoy.

i had the good fortune to spend a few moments yesterday and today with my good friend, brian webster.  web is a former accountability partner (if you are unfamiliar with the term, an accountability partner is one who loves you enough to bring ruthless and vigorous correction into your life) who has loved me on more than one occasion.  web is in town visiting relatives for the holidays, and we shared a cup of coffee or eight.  i believe a true friend is one who, although you haven’t seen him for a long time, you instantly pick up where you left off–no “update” required.  brian is a true friend.  and the main reason for my current state of arousal is our conversation about what church might be.

brian challenges me to dream big.  and while i occasionally sometimes regularly get discouraged with the church and the futility of my romance with her, my time with brian has rekindled my vision.  i mean, i love jesus with all my heart, but i find myself increasingly frustrated with the system.  and its so easy to get tired of butting one’s head against the ecclesiastical wall.

but what if god hasn’t actually given up on the model?

i am reminded of a massive tweet i read recently from alan hirsch on twitter.  he wrote:

Innovation thrives from an apostolic vision of the church that encompasses holy discontent, constant change, adaptability, and development.

i thank god for the built-in progression (“holy discontent” to “constant change” to “adaptability” to “development”) of god’s vision for his church, and i thank god for so many people in my life (people like brian webster) who continually admonish me when i would sooner give up.  i find myself looking forward to the new year with hopeful expectation, and i’m confident that god is up to something in my life and ministry and community.  and i’m eager for the challenge, whatever it may look like.

happy new year, and thank you to my dear friends who invested in me this year.  and be encouraged, colleagues…maybe we really can make a difference.

and thanks to you, web, i am in your debt.

so why do we embellish it?

the christmas story is miraculous (miraculous…what a huge word!) on its own merit, yet we romanticize it and sanitize it.  apparently we secretly believe we can improve on the christmas story so we make it something its not.  granted, the embellishment has taken place over several centuries and is influenced by a profusion of stories and carols (and, more lately, movies).  but why try to dress up the most beautiful story ever told?  for example:

- we always want to put mary on a donkey.  yet they were extremely poor, and she probably walked.

- joseph and mary were not married when jesus was born.

- we assume that jesus was born in a barn or stable, because his mother placed him in a feeding trough (a manger) when he was born, but the bible does not say that–only that there was no room available in the inn.

- when joseph found out that mary was pregnant, he determined to “divorce her quietly.”  throughout the entire narrative, though, joseph is never quoted as saying a word.

- at first, a single angel appeared to the shepherds to announce the birth of messiah, not a choir.  and when the other angels appeared, they didn’t “sing” anything.

and as for the depiction in the modern nativity scene, there are some serious scriptural errors (and i’m not suggesting we should take an axe to them all forthwith, but…)

- there is no mention in scripture of barn animals at the manger

- the magi did not show up at the manger, either.  they found him at a house (and it might have been up to two years later).

- and the bible does not say that there were three magi (we have no record of how many there were).

oh, and there was no “little drummer boy” either

i may be accused of ruining the christmas story, or of having scrooge-like (scroogey? scroogish?) tendencies. some may even say, “okay, but what difference does it make?”

jesus was born in a cold, lonely place.  his parents had no one to encourage them, no parents of their own around to soften the blow of this traumatic experience.  the ground where jesus was born was filthy and smelled horribly (if there was an animal feeding trough, there was also animal waste).  jesus was born in the most miserable moment in the most miserable place, not surrounded by worshipping wise men and cute little lambs.

and that’s precisely the situation he chose for his arrival.

you see, jesus’ first day was like most of my days–weeping in a pile of dung.  jesus chose to start his life in squalor because he wanted to relate to the worst moments of my life (to say nothing of my brothers and sisters in third-world cultures).  no matter what i face on a day-to-day basis, jesus can say, “I know what you’re going through.”  and, while i’m challenged by it, i can also be encouraged in that.

also, i am challenged by jesus’ sacrifice.  do you think jesus showed up on earth and said, “eewww, i didn’t know it would be like this”?  jesus could have come to earth as a businessman or a noble or the chief priest (and it would have been an unthinkable sacrifice…remember, his previous address was heaven), but he resolved to come as a peasant.  in fact, you and i are wealthy by comparison.  when i consider the christmas story, i am motivated to pay any price–make any sacrifice–to please jesus.  that’s what he did for me.

so keep your sterile, idyllic version of the christmas story.  it’s a little scary, but i’ve grown to love the unedited version.

so here is today’s question: how “different” should we be?

allow me to present, for your consideration, a thoughtful article i saw recently in national review by david french entitled, “evangelical’s collapsing sexual mores.”

I’m coming a bit late to this piece, but the October 2011 issue of Relevant magazine contains a must-read article for those who see the need for a rather profound cultural course correction. It turns out that 80 percent of unmarried evangelicals (18 to 29) are sexually active. Yes, 80 percent. For all unmarried young adults the total is 88 percent. Oh, and even as 80 percent of young unmarried evangelicals are sexually active, 76 percent of evangelicals still believe sex outside of marriage is wrong. Even worse, 65 percent of women who abort their children identify as Catholic or Protestant Christian — that’s 650,000 Christian abortions per year.

The article discusses the common causes. Of course our pop culture celebrates sex and porn is ubiquitous. Additionally, there’s the obligatory shot at the church being squeamish in talking about sex (literally every church I’ve ever attended talked frankly about sex while chiding Christians for being reluctant to talk about it). Most insightful, however, is the observation that even as the evangelical church has held theologically  – though not morally — to biblical sexual standards, it has fallen in lockstep behind the larger cultural trend of delayed marriage. It’s one kind of challenge to wait until you’re 18. It’s another challenge entirely to wait until you’re 28.

This is of a piece with the larger American evangelical culture, which — despite the “Jesusland” stigma of the secular Left — is only slightly countercultural. Christians have long understood a basic truth that they are to be “in, but not of” the world, but what does it mean to remain “in” a world that lurches ever-further from core biblical standards? If the practical result is a church that forever remains only slightly countercultural, then the church’s standards will simply act as trailing-edge indicators of cultural change.

Once you travel outside the ranks of the hard-core activists (a tiny segment of the Christian public), you will find a community possessed with an overwhelming desire to be liked: people who are very, very tired of negative perceptions of Christians and eager to change minds. But there’s certainly ground between the grim defiance of the few and the puppy-dog eagerness of the many.

In a previous post I talked about reframing our marriage debate as a “marriage restoration” movement, but we can’t talk about marriage without linking it to the larger sexual/moral ethic of Christendom. Otherwise we will fast approach a point where the distinction between Christian and non-Christian conduct will be so vanishingly small that one could wonder if we maintained any distinct witness to our neighbors and our nation.

i contend that the surrounding culture would be much more amenable to our moral positions if we were more reasoned in our presentation (and, no, this is not another treatise on “walking the talk”).  the world will respect christians who can argue passionately about what they believe without being ridiculous.  we can believe in the biblical account of creation without being dismissive toward scientific principles.  we can advocate a supernatural, mysterious god without being weird.

i guess what i’m saying is that we (christ-followers) need to possess/display patience and kindness while we live lives that are conspicuously different.

if our values are “held theologically,” they must also be held morally.