In Light of Fallen Men: How Christian Leaders Can Avoid the Abyss

 

And there goes another. 

I've been a Christ-follower ever since I can remember, and I just turned 44. My whole 44 years on earth have been spent as a Christian, surrounded by Christians, listening to the teaching of Christians. I've seen a lot.

When I was seven years old, my family left a church my parents helped start because the leader had become larger than life. A boisterous, friendly, big personality, he quickly took the role of the reason the church gathered, the One who delivered the sermons, the guy everyone wanted to follow. Amongst other abuses, there were accusations of infidelity and outrageous aggrandizing pride. He blocked our view of Jesus.

When I was 12, I learned that my sweet Sunday School friend's dad, a deacon, had left a string of women in his wake, and her mom was leaving him until he could get his act together. I couldn't understand my young friend's pain because I hadn't experienced that kind of betrayal, but I knew that nowhere in that story could I see Jesus.

When I was away at college, I learned that the man I had called my pastor throughout junior high and high school had confessed to an affair. And then another. The women began to speak out, to come forward. I was dumbstruck. Him? But he was kind, humble, like Jesus. I saw Jesus in him. How did he find himself thinking he was a replacement to Jesus? What made him place his hope in something - someones - other than Jesus?

I had never seen Jesus in the televangelists who acted like buffoons, so when they fell like dominoes in the '80's and '90's, I could roll my eyes. They weren't like the godly men I had grown up around. But they did have something eerily in common with all of the men I had seen fall, the men like Doug Phillips and now Mark Driscoll. It doesn't matter what their particular sins are, they all - each one of them - forgot the gospel.

I've written down this path before, so I won't repeat myself except to say that we must never, never, never, never, never, never, never forget that day at Calvary, the One who stood in our place and took on all of our failures, and who covers us with His perfection so that God sees Him instead of us. 

Then we won't get in the way of other people seeing Jesus. 

Doug Phillips, Mark Driscoll, you, me . . . we forget Jesus and then we begin to think that something, someone, somewhere is going to define who we are instead of resting in the perfection that is Jesus. 

Do you see the danger?

If we don't, by our pride and our self-promotion, become a boulder that keeps others from seeing Jesus, we tend to look for someone who we think is the answer and voice of Jesus, and soon they become the boulder that blocks our view. Don't let anyone get in the way of your sightline. 

Today, I'm thankful to be in a Christian community (church) where the leaders try to get out of the way as much as they can. But unfortunately, I don't trust them as far as I can throw them. I don't trust me as far as I can throw me, either. Chalk it up to half a lifetime of experience, but I've seen firsthand how quick we all are to try to find our worth and significance in either the world and what it offers or our religious, moral behavior and self-righteousness. Both are an abyss.

How can leaders avoid the abyss? Get out of the way of Jesus. Put your hope in Him. Preach about Him. Take yourself out of the equation.

How can followers avoid the abyss? Get out of the way of Jesus. Put your hope in Him. Listen to Him. Take yourself out of the equation.

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When We Keep Criticizing the Big Names in Christendom

I have relationships with a few of the "big names" you know out there. Several are authors of international acclaim and the others are speakers and leaders in Christendom. By relationship, I mean, staying in their homes, emailing frequently, crying over texts and praying together, planning our next get-togethers. 

I have watched and weathered the flagrant criticism they've encountered over the past few years. I was at a conference with one who was followed incessantly by young, starry-eyed writers who pressed the author for time, an ear, a photo, and perhaps a lead to publication? 

That author friend is gracious and kind and sympathetic, but fame is not her arena and she struggles to pour herself out to the adoring fans. It takes everything she has within her and leaves her desert-dry.

Other author friends can't speak at conferences without an assistant, which maybe makes others look askance: "Who do they think they are?" , but is a necessity because of the expectations their fans have placed on them. Everyone wants a personal conversation; many are hoping the author can give them a word. The assistant can see the drain on the author and quietly pulls them away to rest and recovery. 

I hear the accusations. I see them passed around on Facebook and discussed by armchair pundits. 

"She speaks subtle heresy, she's a mystic, she misleads." 

"He has a plan that denigrates women."

"He's power hungry."

A direct hit: "You're tickling their ears, telling people what they want to hear."

My jaw drops open. Who are the Facebook and blog commenters talking about? These aren't the hearts I know. These aren't the passionate, lovely, Jesus-adoring, gospel-hungry, beautifully flawed and in-need-of-a-Savior friends I have come to love deeply and pray for with intensity. 

As I've carried the burden of yet another scathing judgment lobbed this month at friends I love, I become increasingly disgusted with this particular behavior of Christians. I'm not a big name but I've experienced the unfounded, self-righteous judgment of Christians, too, and though my personal narratives of criticism are on a smaller, less public scale, it's a tool that Satan often uses to tear down our confidence and tempt us to retreat into a safe and insulated cave that would cause our message of hope and Jesus to be snuffed out.

Do you see that? Snuffed out.

What God is using to draw others to Him, our careless and puffed-up proclamations dropped over the reputations of those God has put in the public eye are like the bucket of chemicals released from the underbelly of a fire plane and spread over the forest to put out a wildfire.

You're putting out the fire.

Perhaps before we spread our own version of what we think the author/speaker/big guy is like, we check our own hearts for the flaws. They're there. The flaws are why we need Jesus in the first place. No author, no book, no keynote speech is going to compare with the perfection of God's Word, so can we get that through our troubled hearts? 

No author is flawless.
No speaker is flawless.
No big name is flawless.
We all need Jesus.

Read the authors you love, put aside the books you don't. Stay away from the stuff you know to be the opposite of Scripture. But don't look for ways to take down the Jesus-loving author because if you're combing their work for inaccuracies, guess what? You're going to find them, every time.

Take all that critical energy and instead point everyone you know to Jesus.

What to Do When You Feel Like God is Silent

A friend of mine has had a couple of years of struggle in a row. There isn’t anything major going on, but that’s the problem. She feels directionless, and God is strangely silent. 

She’s been through a couple of jobs, patronizing bosses, and one who forgot to tell his employees that he was cutting their health insurance. He also forgot their paychecks a few months in a row.

She’s passionate. She loves people well, and she loves missions. She’s been all over the world, connecting with others who love Jesus and wanting to bring the freedom of God’s love to those suffering in countries with fewer resources. 

But last year, there was no direction. No bright light. No “Aha!” moments. There aren’t this year, either.

I listened, I prayed. I didn’t know what to say or how to minister to her. I tried to encourage, and always promised to walk the long road of uncertainty with her. Still, I couldn’t perceive where she was.

After my own year of upside-down and backwards, of failed expectations, of dishonesty and distortion, I get it. God was strangely quiet in my own heart, too. It has been so uncomfortable, this feeling that things don’t fit. It’s a lot like looking at the world through those big black phoropters the ophthalmologist slides back and forth over your eyes: “This? Or this? Better? Worse? This one? Or this one?” And my answer: I don’t know.

I’m still walking slowly. My friend and I are still praying. We don’t doubt God because we’ve both watched Him work out the worst of circumstances and we trust He won’t stay silent forever. 

Are you there, too? Here’s what I can offer you:

1. Stay Silent Yourself

In this wearisome season, it’s easy to fill the silence with noise just to hear yourself talk. Several times I’ve called out, “Hello? Hello?” just to hear the echoes reverberate back to me. Noise can be comforting and familiar, but it isn’t the answer.

I took 40 days of Still last month and although God offered no sweeping and outstanding answers, He ministered to me quietly in the hush. I'm learning to listen.

2. Look at What is in Your Hand

One autumn morning I sat in a friend’s warm South Carolina home, feet curled under me as we talked in beautiful layers about life. We spoke of noise and clutter and relationships and people and responsibilities. And then she said, “All I can do is what is in my hand.” A moment of clarity peeked through the fog for me. What is in my hand. In the 40 days of stillness, I came to realize that all God wants me to focus on is what is in my hand. Suddenly, all that seemed so out of focus and unclear came into a sharp convergence.

What is in my hand is all I get to see right now. I’m still dreaming and working, but my view and guide is what is in my hand. It’s uncomfortable for me. I like big ideas and grand plans and spreadsheets and to-do lists, but when it comes right down to it, all God is giving me this year is what is in my hand.

3. Remind Yourself

. . . of the gospel. Every day. Put your hope in what Jesus did and what He's saved you to. Our answers never come in the form of what we must do, but in what He has done.