Why I Hate Testimonies

If you’ve read my blog before you may have noticed something. Well, hopefully you noticed a few things, but one of those being that I poke fun at Baptists from time-to-time. So, I wanted to clarify that my intent at poking fun of Baptists is twofold: first, it’s where I came from; second, most of you are probably Baptist, or have some kind of Baptist background, and I like poking fun of my friends in a teasing kind of way. In other words, since I am from Texas, I can make fun of some Texantricities, but you out-of-staters better watch your back! And the way I pick at Baptists isn’t the strip them down naked and embarrass them kind of thing, it’s the, “C’mon, you know this, I know this, we both find it kind of funny,” kind of thing.

Yeah...this is the kind of thing that I am talking about.

So, that said, let me pick on one of the worst parts of being Baptist—testimonies. Man, I hated testimony time growing up. Say what you will about sharing your testimony in a small group, at church camp or the first week at BSM in college, testimony time was just unbearable for me. And here’s why: we all sound the same…and we are using a formula to share certain things about ourselves. In some ways it is quite efficient, in some ways it is like indecent exposure. You think to yourself, “Okay, this is guys group. That means I need to confess lust, pretend I don’t struggle with it anymore. Mention a story of how I overcame it, and encourage that brother across from me that he will be free someday…like I wish I was…oops, make sure not to say that last part out loud.” Or, if I am in a co-ed BSM group getting to know you setting, I say something like, “Well, I was raised in the church, but I had this experience in summer camp my sophomore year where I understood God was real. And I remember I cried and raised my hands. It was so good. But recently, I have been struggling with my quiet times (true!). I’m only getting like two hours a day (untrue, I actually know that my last quiet time was March 24^th, 1976), and I know the Lord is calling me to more (again, true), because there is so much more for me.”

That was why I hated testimony day. It’s not that I hated the principle behind it, or wanted to reject Scripture concerning the power of the word of our testimonies. It’s just that testimonies have become, how do I say this, more about us than about Jesus in us. Our testimonies have become vaingloriousness instead of the in-breaking of the Kingdom of God into real life. Look at the testimony I shared. “…Mention a story of how ‘I’ overcame it…” That is really what we have replaced things with. We often add a phrase like, “And God helped (showed) me,” or “And then I prayed, and I guess God just…” to cover it up, but really the stories are about how we have overcome things on our own, and shared in a specific preapproved formula.

Yeah...we've all sat in this circle before.

And here’s the deal. That is real life. And that is important. But when our testimony boils down to a rote formula where we plug in the details, we aren’t really sharing our story. We aren’t really testifying what God has done in us…what we have lived. So, in other words we are using a bunch of words that do not communicate the reality of our existence and experience in relation to the actual spiritual journey that we are in and have been through.

It would be akin to going to therapy (or counseling for you good Southern folk, since therapy sounds so scary!) and only sharing the generalized concerns of humankind. Sure, that is a good thing. But you came to therapy for you. You came to get help with your ish (issues for those of you older than 50). By sharing the generalized, “Well, the economy is bad, and a lot of people have to choose between bread and health care,” is a good thought, but it doesn’t address, “But the reason I was sent here is I am a rage-aholic who yells at my kids, ran someone off the road and my wife no longer feels safe around me. Also, I have been binge drinking for two years because of the stresses of work, but can’t tell anyone, because I am a Baptist deacon, and no one can know because it would bring public shame and scorn.” See. Our testimony loses its power, because of formula. And it can separate us from what we really desire, and more importantly…really need.

But there is hope for change. If you have been around me long you probably here me ask: What’s your story? That’s what I say instead of testimony. It’s basically the same thing, but it loses a lot of the baggage and says, “Forget the formula…share what you want to share, don’t share what you don’t.” And the truth is for me it recaptures the intention of what we are after in the first place. We come to a place of understanding who this beautiful stranger in front of us really is, not a list of “appropriate to share sins” that are on a checklist. It also lets me gauge and understand what to share with this person versus that person.

Henri Nouwen talks about the allure of revealing yourself little by little…of maintaining a mystery about you instead of vomiting your life story in the first sitting. For instance, my friend John Moore knows a lot more about me than my friend Jon Quitt. John and I have lived more life together. We have lived more intentional life together. As such, I have shared things with John that I have not with Jon. But, there are certain things of my heart that I have shared with Jon that John still does not know because they are relative to the relationship. And that is the importance of destroying the formula. It allows you the space to be who you are, be safe in the relationship and experience the grace of God as it is today in your life. It is the true testimony of you and me and God today…not a sin confessed 46 times since 1943, because that was expected during testimony time.

So, what’s your story? Where is God intervening today? Where do you need help now? What are the actual significant markers that changed you…not just the ones that make the best story? Those are the things that I want to know. Those are the things that in sharing can change hearts…and reveal who you are and what God is doing. And those are the things that really have the power to change lives. So, next time testimony hour comes about, throw people for a loop. Tell your story. It might be awkward at first, but I bet, can almost guarantee you that it will change the dynamics and may help you make a new friend. And if you’re first, may allow people space to be their genuine selves.

Beyond Exhibitionism to Healing

So, I want to make something clear about yesterday's blog post (and as a side note, this post will go beyond sex into just open discussion).

This is was not the intention of yesterday's post.

This is more like it.

What I mean when I say we need to talk about sex is that we need to remove the shame and guilt and condemnation of sex. It really is that simple. In some ways we need to remove the mystery of sex. That said, there will always be mystery with sex. It is alluring. But it doesn't have to be forbidden fruit cast before us that we seek out in dark corners and shady alleys. It needs to be something that we can talk about with others. But here's the transition for this post to the broader sense: in good, safe, pure environments with people we trust.

Healing doesn't mean that we must bare our wounds to everyone....This doesn't mean that we should constantly tell the world how much we are hurting. This can become what (Henri J.M.) Nouwen calls "spiritual exhibitionism." - Rabbi Ruth Gais

I came across this while I was looking for a Nouwen quote on spiritual exhibitionism. It pretty well sums up where I am headed. We need to become a people comfortable with our brokenness, comfortable with things we normally try to cover up, and bring to light topics that we reserve for the darkness. But we also need to be weary of being exhibitionists. In our quest to becoming open people, we need to find the balance of sharing, but not too much.

This was something that my friends and I back home in Texas really strove for. The word we used at the time was vulnerability. I like that word. It implies a certain amount of trust with the person you are sharing. It implies that you are willing to expose your weakness, because there is safety. And that is what we were striving for. We were trying to expose those rough places in our lives. At times, we probably went too far, but we really did strike a great balance.

I often think back to a classic picture that we all have some feelings toward. The picture of a confessional booth. I think a lot of Protestants get pretty skeptical when it comes to confessionals. We really take to the "Me and God" concept. We ride that horse into the ground. But there is good biblical precedent for confession of sins to one another, and not just to God. It is a practice that I think many need to take part in.

Why?

Not just because it is good to follow Scripture, but also, and many of us know this, it is good for the soul to relieve ourselves of burdens that we have kept hidden. When you are known by others, for better AND worse you are able to stop hiding. There is a lot of power in that. Starting that process is a most difficult thing. But once you begin confessions seem to flow out of you. It is pretty interesting.

But that is also the place where we have to guard ourselves...and protect others. So, just for the sake of illustration, I'll present a conversation that is good to have, and show how it could turn the corner into exhibitionism.

Two guys (or girls if you want...I don't exclude) are pretty good friends. They do the church thing. They try to be faithful, but one in particular is struggling with an addiction to pornography. He asks to meet with the other for some conversation and prayer. The two meet at one of their homes (because let's be frank here, Starbucks may not be the best place for that convo. Speaking of Starbucks, have I got a story for you sometime!!! Just ask me). The two decide that they are going to do some sort of accountability and begin to share.

It comes time for the dude with pornography issues to share. He confesses that he is struggling x many times a day/week. These are usually the reasons why. This time of day is particularly difficult. These are the feelings has toward himself...toward others after...toward God...toward those he has seen in the videos. He then talks about a history that led him to this place. He talks about why he wants to quit. He talks about what he has tried to quit. He may talk about a few other things as well. And I would say all of that is good healthy conversation.

But the moment the conversation dips into the types of porn and descriptions of the porn, or even, and this would be real disturbing, his physical experience when watching porn it has gone too far. That is what Nouwen refers to. That is spiritual exhibitionism. And it is where we pass the lines of healing, and is actually a form of emotional sadism. It becomes a place where we derive satisfaction from inflicting pain and shame upon ourselves. And that my friends, we must avoid. And, even as I write this it is almost like history just unveiled herself a little. These are probably the things that helped create our shame-based purity culture. Because in the process, both friends get a little slimed here. And in the long run, healing is left in the dust in the name of exposure.

So, let's move past the illustration and to the heart of what you may be feeling now (because I am feeling this way a bit myself). That is kind of scary. I may cross the line. I will never feel that kind of trust. I don't even know who I could talk to about these things. I don't think my problems are that bad. All of these thoughts are valid. But I would say, you know your heart. You know your soul. You know those feelings that nag at you. You probably also know some men or women that you could talk to. The problem is choosing to engage in confession.

And in the words of my friend Jon, you will mess up. You will go too far. But we learn through process. Doctors don't just study theory. They don't just read books and then all of a sudden they are a doctor before they ever see an actual human body. It wouldn't work. In the same regard, we don't study all about being vulnerable and get it perfect. We are human. We make mistakes. But, we trust that it is best. And we learn to confess. And that is what brings healing. Shame can't attack what is in the light. Sure, you may be ashamed for a week or two, and may even try to dodge your friend. But what that friend is still there, and may even have similar struggles, that shame starts to remove itself.

So, what is the conclusion? How does this end? With us learning to share ourselves with community. Learning that we are not so alone. But also learning the boundaries that protect us and keep us from compounding the problem. Will it be messy? Most definitely. Will it be worth? Again. Most definitely. So, here's to healing friend.

Thoughts on a Dancing God

This morning as I sat down to do my morning reading I was struck with a funny thought. In Chapter 6 of Henri Nouwen's Spiritual Direction, one of the reflection questions was "How do you picture God?" A seemingly normal question, and a priest once told Nouwen it was THE question. So, I sat down to think on this and oddly my mind went to Mia Michaels. Before I get into more of my thoughts on how I see God, take a gander at this piece that Michaels choreographed:

 

This isn't really even my favorite piece she has done, but the imagery involved goes a little more with where this post is headed. As I closed my eyes to meditate on God, to begin to answer how I pictured God, I simply saw this dancer. This dancer that went about singing and painting, and throughout the process creating. In other words, I saw this creative, emotive God that went about the process in great artistry. And the understanding of what I saw was this, God is beautiful, so why would the processes of God not also be beautiful. 

Now, I know that some people with a more utilitarian view of God may take issue with this. Engineers, scientists and others who tend to view things more orderly and mathematically may have come to see God as this very functional being that perfectly situated Earth where it could sustain life, and the human body so that it is perfectly functional. And I am down with that really. But what it made me realize is that as we are all made in God's image, the ways that we view Him/Her will be quite different. Also, the season we are in may change the way we view God.

I think that last thought has frequently paralyzed me in the past. Changing views on the eternal God who never changes makes me a flake, doesn't it? This morning that thought finally kind of lifted. Why would God, a multifaceted being always present Himself to me in the same way in every season of my life? If I am broken, in need of grace, mercy and compassion, why would God present Himself as harsh judge? If I am full of myself and blind to how my actions are causing others to suffer, why would God present myself as a doting mother?

 This is my favorite dance of Michaels' I have seen.

That is not to say that God changes, or that God is indeed flighty and insecure. Indeed that cannot be so. It also doesn't mean that we conjure up God in the image of what we need (want) in a given moment. I think anyone with college loans can attest that God isn't a banker who delivers a check anytime you want it! Also, anyone who has been seriously injured in a sporting accident or car wreck can attest that God isn't a magic fairy who magically heals all wounds at once just because we are inconvenienced. (Though I will not dismiss the possibility of God erasing debt or radically healing someone! These things happen.)

What it means is that God is other. God is not human. God is not restricted to the things that we can do. So creation of earth and human life need not only be the work of a scientist...it can also be the work of a dancer...or a teacher...or a craftsman...or a farmer...or whoever it is that we need. Because God is all of those things. We have teachers and craftsmen and farmers and singers and doctors because we are reflections of God.

So this morning, I am thankful for God showing herself through a reflection of someone like Mia Michaels.* God is creative, and beautiful. And the God that is reflected through Michaels beckons us, the children of God, to watch this beautiful intricate dance and then in turn join in that dance. And in doing so we do the job of following Him.#

So, though not the most Orthodox of posts, I think it goes to show part of the process I am going through these days. God as dancer is not something 18 year old James would have grappled with, and may not be something 63 year old James is into, but in this season of life it is God showing James who He is...and I am.

* For those of you concerned with a feminine pronoun attributed to God, I would encourage a look at the original Hebrew throughout Old Testament Scripture, particularly Isaiah and Psalms. Also, the word from which we get Spirit is feminine. 

# For those of you concerned I rely so heavily on masculine pronouns for God...I get you, but I'm still in process and it reflects the traditions I come from.

Thoughts on Identity

This week has been one of those rough weeks. I think externally there is nothing anyone could point to that would identify it as such for me. It's one of those internal things. Like many of you, I sometimes just get trapped in the inner-weavings of a complex set of thoughts, emotions and feelings. And so much of what I dealt with this week was just getting caught in the crossfire of reason-vs-gut instinct-vs-feelings of insecurity. Make sense?

This guy dares you NOT to stay on the Elkhorn.

This morning, I came for my weekly jaunt to Panera. I have no idea why Saturday mornings at Panera have become so special. They just are. It started about a year ago on a Sunday morning actually in Frankfort, Kentucky. After a fitful night involving a lack of sleep on the Elkhorn I decided since I was up, I would find a place to hang out before spending time with my buddy Jeff and his congregation. I remember there being a few places by the highway heading toward the church, and it looked like only Panera was open. I think I had a two hour "quiet time" for those of you who like that language. If you know me, you know that two hours of anything is pretty amazing. And so, my love affair with Panera began.

This morning, amidst the internal swirl of life, I found myself reading my weekly homework from Henri Nouwen's Spiritual Direction. As I have mentioned before, Nouwen is pretty special for me. I took a class on him in seminary. This summer when I asked for a mentor at church David Prince stepped up to the plate and we decided to read through Spiritual Direction together.

So, halfway through my cup of coffee, after finishing my Scripture reading, I opened up chapter 3. It was one of those overwhelming/peaceful moments. I think you know what I mean...you've probably been there. It's overwhelming because although it is exactly something you need to hear (read), it is so sweet that it brings deep-abiding comfort. At the heart of the chapter is one central point: we are the Beloved of God.

Everything else in the chapter is pivotal to that. Nouwen (or rather Michael Christensen and Rebecca Laird, who composed this book from Nouwen's teachings and unpublished works) points to three areas that we frequently point to as identity: what we do, what others say about us, and what we have.

What We Do

The first area we often point to as our identity is what we do. Ask anyone about my aversion to claiming my identity by what I do, especially TJ Felke. Really, ask them. For some reason, early in life, I simply refused to identify myself by what I did. I can't tell you why, but there was a deep felt disdain for that type of identification. Some of that may go back to my dad. Buck Love (still quite possibly the best name for a dad anywhere) was a mechanic. That is what he did. I was never ashamed of that. But, anyone who saw my dad as just a mechanic just radically missed who he was.

Buck Love (w my niece Sammy) is the stuff of legends!

My dad may have the ability and understanding to fix many types of machines, but that could never define a man who is one of the most fierce protectors of friendship, lovers of family, and seekers of truth alive today. So, to say, "Buck is a mechanic," radically missed the mark. And I think seeing that, understanding that about my father, caused me to always reject the idea of vocation being linked with identity.

On the flipside, my inner Pharisee would hound on acts of service and devotion. In my younger years I wanted my faith to be seen by just about anyone and everyone. I wanted people to know if I had a quiet time. I wanted people to praise me that I led men and women in worship. I think that I so heavily depended on works, and identification with works that there was really no growth. I didn't develop a secret life apart from community...I just performed like a monkey in costume for the adulation of those around me. Works were about love and acceptance. And looking back is a reminder not to purse that type of identity.

What People Say About Us

The second area Nouwen pointed to in terms of identity is what other people say about us. I think this is one of the easiest things for us to acknowledge as a bad way to live life. If we are constantly leaning on the words of others there are multitudes of ways we can be let down. Silence. Criticism. Lies. Cynicism. Any of these can derail who we "are." There is no safety in living your life banking on the praise of other people.

Despite knowing this, I know that I live and die by the praise of those around me. It is just old hat. I am a people person. I want to know that the people around me like me, love me and generally want me around. At the end of the day I am more prone to base success or satisfaction on how things shook out relationally than by how many tasks I completed or did satisfactorily. In other words, this is where I have derived a vast amount of my identity.

What We Have

Nouwen looks like someone I'd hang with.

The last area Nouwen pointed to in terms of identity is the things we own. I like the way that Nouwen explained this. He didn't just point to things we own like houses, cars, books, music. He also pointed to things like our national identity, familial identity and such. In other words, everything that we own, physical or otherwise. 

Finding our identity in these places is quite simple. It is easy to say, "I am a Texan from Florence who has four brothers and a sister. I am a Baptist with some Charismatic and Catholic tendencies who banks at Union State Bank. I am an athlete, musician and scholar with a master's degree."

Those are all things that I have. Every statement is thus true. And more than owning a Nissan Frontier (speaking of, any of you in the market for one?) or MacBook Pro, I can easily derive a sense of identification from those things. It is easy to fall prey to these things as the source of who we are.

I Am God's Beloved

But, Nouwen says that all of these things are false identifications for those of us who call ourselves Christians. We are simply "God's Beloved." I'll admit, I have heard this and similar messages for most of my life. Many great teachers and pastors have planted these seeds of identity, but they have not always taken root. I think to an extent I was just so hurried that I would say, "Yes. I know," and never reflect on the true meaning of being God's Beloved.

That has frequently been my problem. I can analytically decipher a statement and cognitively process it back in the storage of my mind grapes, but I never really access it on the level of identity. I never really let my life be transformed by the understanding that God calls me Beloved. I know for some this sounds like the very dregs of sentimentality that turn you off of Evangelical thought, but this isn't just ooey-gooey emotional sentimentalism. It is instead simple truth that should transform us not to live by the whims of what so easily passes through our fingers. We cannot hold onto nationalism, family, monetary satisfaction or anything of the like. We can hold onto proper identification rooted in eternal truth.

Identity is something that we will struggle with our entire lives. "Who am I?" is a question that will always be around. Whenever we are able to answer that with something substantive and eternal we will be changed. Whenever we answer that with something fleeting, insecurity will pad beside us. I may not have it all figured out. I may never. But what I feel like I am learning in this season is that when I can respond as God's Beloved, I am more prone to act of love and not fear. I won't get caught up in the waves and currents of emotionalism or even ill-gained wisdom. Instead I will find peace and rootedness in that which is eternal.

Thoughts on Leading

I think I have made it no secret the love and affection I have for my tribe at the Tuscaloosa Vineyard. These people are quality. In the little less than a year I have journeyed alongside them it has been a place of healing, growth and challenge. One of those challenges has been stepping back into leadership.

From a worship night at my house. I love my tribe!

Even reading that statement is kind of odd. Since I have been in Alabama I have (unfortunately) landed in three churches before Vineyard. (I say unfortunately, because I like stability. I don't like being a hopper or a shopper. For the most part, those three congregations were filled with great people...especially my friends out in Buhl! I just had trouble finding my place.) And in those churches I have led youth, worship and small groups. So, it wasn't like I have been "out of the saddle" necessarily; it's just things feel different at The V. I think it seems more akin to what I feel my calling looks like.

So, this week was exciting because my buddy Tim asked me to lead worship. He is the worship pastor at the church and it was fun to see this type of initiation work itself out naturally, you know, from within, instead of bringing someone from the outside. Also, leading worship is something I tend to feel comfortable with since I have been doing that for over a decade now.

I probably wore this expression Thursday night.

But Thursday night, at practice for Sunday service something happened, that, to be honest, happens to leaders of all shapes and sizes, that I didn't expect. As I got in the saddle I just didn't feel comfortable. I couldn't find the right balance. I was just looking around wondering, "Does anyone else feel this shaky? Is this just me?" It was difficult to find myself lacking confidence in something that has always brought me great joy.

So I talked with a few people in the band/ leadership about it and as I drove off said a little prayer.

And here is where we get into a phrase that I often say, and when I look at friends faces I often wonder what they think when they hear it: God spoke to me. The idea of hearing the voice of God extra-biblically is something I think I will take on at another time. (BTW, quick definition of extra-biblical: outside of the Bible.) But for now, it was interesting to hear what the Lord was saying to me.

I will preface that message with this. I have been reading a lot lately. Henri Nouwen, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Eugene Peterson, Tyler Watson have been some of the more consistent reads. And I think their collective words helped me shape the message God was preparing to speak to me.

The simple version was this: when leading worship, your insecurity does not determine your offering. Do what you are supposed to do, and that is worship. Peterson has this great passage in A Long Obedience in the Same Direction where he writes about lifting your hands. Lifting up your hands is based on motor memory and not on some emotive response. Most people can lift their hands. When Scripture commends us to lift our hands it doesn't require working ourselves up to an emotional place where we can lift our hands. We simply send some neurons through the old neural freeway to our arms and say, "Wave around in the air like you just don't care."

When in doubt I read Merton.

So, when leading worship, of course, there will be in security. Just as there will be confidence, joy, sadness, weariness. We don't work ourselves up to worship. We worship. It reminds me of one of my favorite Merton passages:

What I wear is pants. What I do is live. How I pray is breathe.

 So, I just try to remind myself that worship is not dictated by emotive response in a given moment, that worship is beyond, yet includes my emotions. They are part and parcel with the whole living faith thing. 

I do however think there are certain differences in the corporate setting. We can't just be these crazed, responsive people, sliming others with our insecurities. We need to avoid being compulsive, but we can be honest. We can stop and say, "I am feeling insecure," to those close to us, without shouting to the congregation, "I'm out of control, I don't know what I'm doing up here!" There is an appropriate place for it. Just like there is a place to say, "I am probably a bit of a prideful git today." But neither determines our engagement with worship, because simply, worship isn't about us. It's part of something greater.

I think back to undergrad. There was a certain part of me that understood this, and a certain part that strove to be "authentic" saying things like, "I won't affront (because I used big words a lot in undergrad!) God. I'm not going to fake it...so I'm just going to sit here." It was a heart that said worship was about me. It made me the center of the worship act, not God. And it was something that I just had to overcome.

So, tomorrow, I get to lead worship at Vineyard. I get to be a part of this external act of worship where the men, women, boys and girls of our congregation are going to be feeling happy, sad, anxious, prideful and insecure. And together, we get to enter this place where we say, "Even with that...I will worship." And that is what God wanted to remind me of as I am growing back into leadership this week. I'm sure next week there will be newer lessons, and then again the next week. In our living faith we just continue to evolve and that is a pretty cool thing.

Thoughts on In the Name of Jesus

I just finished Henri Nouwen's In the Name of Jesus. Like, I literally just put it down, picked up the computer and started typing (after of course putting on some good music). It was my first time to read through the book and is a surprisingly fast read. Like, take an afternoon in your hammock with some lemonade fast read.

You may recall that while at Fuller I took a class on Nouwen. It was an excellent class. Somehow this was not on the reading list. Maybe the assumption was, "If you know Nouwen, you've already read it." And that may be fair. It is his best known book.

Like I did with A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, here is a quick synopsis. This book is basically a speech Nouwen delivered on Christian leadership at a big event. It was written shortly after Nouwen left Harvard and joined L'Arche. One of the decisions that L'Arche made was that Nouwen wouldn't travel alone. So, one of the guys from the community traveled with him, and they did this together. Nouwen also offers some personal reflections on the event and the impact of having Bill with him on the stage.

Nouwen basically has an introduction, a conclusion and an epilogue on either side of three chapters that are all set up the same. Each chapter introduces a temptation Jesus faced in the wilderness, followed by part of the "Do you love me/feed my sheep" story of Peter and Jesus, followed by practical ministry tips. A really simple outline, especially for a speech. The surprising thing about the book is just how much power it punches. This is a book that is very tweetable, thought-provoking, and yet disregarded in how most pastors actually approach ministry.

In being part of the Church nigh on twenty years I think the biggest struggle we face is one of desired power. I think often that we long for the days of the Church being the dominant social power of the day. We long for the days of Constantine. The Church flourished. The world converted. Our job was easy...just proclaim our personal devotion to Jesus. The government took care of the rest.

But as I look at the teachings of Jesus and world history I see two divergent philosophies. Jesus came to serve, and when the Church is in a place of power she typically serves...those who convert. We oppress everyone else. I know that is harsh, but I don't even have to point to history in this case, you already know the stories.

And yet, time and again, we see that Pat Robertsons arise. We see calls for the Church to lead government. Now before your feathers get too ruffled, I will be the first to say that men and women of faith need to run for political office. They need to serve their country out of conviction. They also need to share their faith. But an agenda of promoting the platform of the Church through the government is just not something I endorse. The Church is grassroots. The Church is personal. The Church is not power.

And to a great extent that is what Nouwen is communicating. Nouwen argues that the Christian leader of the future will be those who choose irrelevancy, powerlessness and communion with their communities. I think the first two are harder for pastors in theory, but the third is harder for pastors in practice.

So many of the messages being thrown at the Church today are opposed to what Nouwen said. We are searching for new ways to be relevant to culture. We want to be cool. So churches now have CSAs, hipster services, secular concerts, etc. And honestly, if these things are a natural outflow of who the community is, that is fine. But when we use ploys and present ourselves in a certain light for the sake of being relevant we lose credibility. We all know how to smell a fake.

I think this is the type of irrelevancy Nouwen is addressing. We don't put on tattoos, skinny jeans and bad facial hair if that is not authentically who we are. Same goes with those who put on suits, square frames, and more hair product that your neck can support. The desire to present yourself, and/or the Gospel in a particular light because you believe it to be more attractive is tempting. But the Gospel is simply the Gospel. It will also be as it is. The story of Jesus and what he did never changes.

But the last idea is where I want to spend a little bit of time. Nouwen challenges the idea that pastors need to keep the same professional distances that doctors, psychologists and others keep. He challenges that this is the natural working order for a spiritual community. And I think he is correct in that assumption.

Instead of completely bucking the entire system and for a pastor to weekly bear his entire soul to the community, Nouwen simply offers this: do the same as your congregation is already doing. Have someone in your congregation you can talk to. You don't have to go outside the congregation for this.

I will be the first to admit that is nearly impossible in today's society. You don't admit your weakness. You don't expose to your people what could get you fired. But this is the same reason that we see men and women fall to infidelities of every kind in ministry. We have created a culture that has rejected communion for the pastor. We have spurned pastors as active members of community and made them an other. And until this is fixed, heck, even after it is fixed, we will continue to see disconnection between pastors and congregations.

It isn't easy being vulnerable...for anyone. Pastors know this, parishioners know this. But the community that finds a way for pastors to fully partake of community instead of only being servants or lords of the community will find joys that are missing from the church. When we find a way to be friends with pastors, when we find a way to provide confessors for pastors, when pastors find it okay to be vulnerable with elders then we might just find a way to live in authenticity as a community. And that is a good thing.