Tag Archives: Leadership

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ The Prevailing Sin of Evangelicals

In the midst of an extraordinary amount of stone-throwing and name-calling from across the political and theological spectrum, the Church in North America has shuddered and shaken from its timbered ceiling (or its artfully exposed industrial lighting) to its hallowed stone foundation (or tiled coffee house floor).

(Astute readers perhaps will have noticed the use of the capitalized word “church” but not the use of the phrase “Body of Christ.”)

The various branches of the organization of Christian faith in North America are flailing in a storm that some see as a clearing, cleansing front needed to wash away theological detritus while others see a hurricane destined to imperil and destroy life as we know it.

The shake-up, for better or worse, has caused a great deal of soul-searching and reflection – though perhaps not as much as is needed, one might think after wearily skimming the morning Facebook news feed. What does it mean to be a Christian? What does it mean to be human? How has the way in which the Church relates to prevailing culture changed in the past 30 years? What leaders to we need to pay attention to right now? Who has the answers? Will my congregation die if we don’t change what we believe?

How did we get here?

To the dismay of many, a startling realization is beginning to dawn: we thought we were strong, faithful, and following where God led. But what if we weren’t?

I know that many of my progressive friends will read the above question in a different light. “You thought you were strong, faithful, and following where God led, but you weren’t, because you refused to be fully inclusive. Now you’re realizing that and you’re reevaluating what you believe and who you are. That’s a good thing, because now you can change.”

That angle is not the one predominantly preoccupying the evangelical consciousness right now, however.

(I use “evangelical” for lack of a better word to describe theologically orthodox Christians who place a high value on the understanding of Scripture as the inspired Word of God and, out of that understanding, hold a humble but defined traditional theology of marriage and human sexuality. Personally, I think “evangelical” is largely a useless term because of the number of meanings that can be painted onto it.)

How did we get here? We thought we were strong, faithful, and following where God led. But what if we weren’t? These thoughts haunt laypeople and clergy alike who have spent years serving in the church and who now survey their surroundings in shocked disbelief. The sweeping changes in society over an extremely short time in the scope of historical context – a few decades, half a century at most – have left a reverberating tremor of shellshock.

No matter how many “statements” are issued from denominational spokespersons, individual clergy, and faith-based organizations, there seems to have been little direction, discernment or comfort gleaned from what many feel are either empty platitudes or hopeless, feeble claims of continued perseverance in the practice of the faith. This is understandable in part: there’s a great deal in flux in North American culture, in key denominations and in many pews. But behind a great deal of conversation lurk the questions above. We thought we were strong, faithful, and following where God led. But what if we weren’t?

It is time for the Church in North America to repent – but of what?

We must ask ourselves, “what made us think we were strong, faithful, and following where God led?” Were we confident we were being faithful because we could afford a new building? Were we assured we were strong because attendance grew and we implemented the leadership trends du jour? Were we assured we were following where God led because we practiced relevance and offered a traditional and contemporary worship service?

None of these are the fruits of the Spirit.

We should’ve recognized the symptoms – pastoral scandals brushed over and shrugged off, millions of budgetary dollars spent on state-of-the-art buildings while the missions and outreach dollars stayed steady or shrank, congregations of predominantly one race or socioeconomic status staying of predominantly one race or socioeconomic status. None of this characterizes the Spirit-filled Body of Christ. 

It did, however, characterize the Church.

What if the prevailing sin of evangelicals in the past 30 years was the same as the prevailing sin of progressives today – the cult of the individual? Protestants have this struggle wrapped tightly throughout our Reformer DNA. It was extraordinary, a gift of grace that individual people could read Scripture in their own language. It was extraordinary, the idea that the individual can reach out in response to God on her or his own because of the priesthood of all believers. It was extraordinary.  It also had a deadly-sharp edge, as all Truth does – for individualism, run rampant, becomes as much of an idol as a statue of a saint or a gilded icon does to uneducated peasants.

If there is a prevailing sin of evangelicalism, might it be the cult of the individual? Take, for instance, the far-right fundamentalist trope – “God says it, I believe it, that settles it” – and place it alongside what could easily be the far-left progressive credo – “I feel it, I believe it, that settles it.” Both hinge on the individual. And while we have inherited a robust faith that celebrates the one – the one up in the tree, the one lost or left behind, the one who came back, thankful – it is not a faith that relies on the individual. Far from it.

The Christian faith springs from belief in the Trinity, first and foremost – Father, Son, Holy Spirit (not suggesting that God is gendered, but that God is persons, that God is relationship – that God is love…). Unlike our Muslim and Jewish friends, we do not claim God is one without also claiming God is three. And of the Threeness of God, we believe that the Second Person of the Trinity, Jesus Christ, Word-Made-Flesh, Emmanuel-God-With-Us, has called us to be his Body on earth empowered by the Third Person of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit.

There is no such thing as a solitary God in Christianity, this Three-In-One “I AM,” and there is no such thing as a solitary Christian.

Yet for decades, evangelicalism swooned into a vast approach not unlike marketing rather than evangelism – and make no mistake, the two are different. For one thing, marketing targets consumers, not believers. And when you market, you see demographics made up of individuals. The North American Church began attempting to market the faith to what it perceived as “swing voters” – every young new emerging generation, seen as the trendsetters that predict the future.

“Now hold on a just minute,” pastors counter, having spent thousands on demographic research, relocation trend watches and seminars on relevance. But I counter that a small but important tell-tale sign that North American evangelicalism got too self-centered is the fascinating migration of Protestants to Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy. I have begun to lose count of the number of friends from college and seminary – not counting friends of friends – who now have icons in their living rooms, rosaries next to their beds, and a surprising but joyful number of children springing up.

Fed up with the elevation of the individual, this minor but very significant trend reveals people from their 20’s to their 50’s deliberately seeking out traditions that emphasize a great many practices and doctrines before the individual comes into play. Eastern Orthodox followers spend seasons fasting together, feasting together, venerating together. Roman Catholics turn to a higher authority than the individual in the pew, looking to time-worn dogma, to a faith community of extraordinary countercultural fellowship. Both traditions practice exclusivity, interestingly enough, something that occasionally offends unwitting Protestants expecting to “take communion” like everyone else. Yes, both Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy have strong traditions of mysticism – something experienced by the individual. In the main, however, you do not have the tail wagging the dog.

Before we repent, then, for what “those people” are doing (“thank you, Lord, that I am not like that person over there…”), fearing that they will bring about the Apocalypse during our lifetime or our children or grandchildren’s lifetimes, Church, we must repent for being an organization of Christian faith but not the Body of Christ. We need to face that we have made an idol out of self, a god of the individual. It is not about us. It is about Jesus Christ – and him crucified…

We have shaped the Church in our own image, so that it is a safe, suburban place to be, with mall lotion in the ladies’ room and shrubbery trimmed to perfection. We have shaped the Church in our own image, so that we worship only in ways that will attract people we want to be seen with. We have shaped the Church in our own image, so that “benign” segregation is practiced while we allow cultural differences to trump unity in Christ. We have shaped the Church in our own image, so that it is something that will appeal to our grandkids or our yoga friends or our IT colleagues, though hopefully not the foreclosed-upon, the elderly poor, or the bi-racial kids of a single woman missing several teeth driving a broken-down car.

If we attempt to address theological challenges with answers that rely on the individual, we return immediately to where we started.

We thought we were strong, faithful, and following where God led. But what if we weren’t?

“It’s not as I would have it,” said Rev. Richard Coles, priest in the Church of England, gay, living celibately with his civil partner, on the doctrine of the Church of England. “But then – it’s not about me…”

What a splash of cold water in the face. It’s not about me. When’s the last time you heard an activist, commentator, pastor or church member say that? (And that’s what was so stunning about the shooting victims’ families confronting Dylann Roof, after all: “I forgive you” is a profound wail of pain combined with the acknowledgement that it’s not about me. “Accept Jesus Christ.”)

I’m not sure what to think about this community worship our pastor set up with a neighboring Black church. I want the other church to know I like them, but I don’t know how they perceive me and I don’t know the songs they seem to love.

It’s not about me.

Is my ministry making any difference? Are my family’s sacrifices worth it? If we build a new $7.5 million worship center, that will be something I can look to for affirmation that something I’ve done is of value, that something will outlast me.

It’s not about me.

I don’t want my friends to think I’m ignorant, predictable or gullible because of my traditional theology of human sexuality.

It’s not about me.

I don’t want my friends to think I’m ignorant, predictable or gullible because I feel called to volunteer and serve with AIDS ministries.

It’s not about me.

If there is anything that God is calling us to face, it might just be the reality that there has been a stark difference between the organized Church and the living, Spirit-filled Body of Christ.

I am crucified with Christ, therefore I no longer live.

If there is anything that God is calling us to celebrate, it is that we are not alone – we are not individuals squabbling over foyer paint color – we are called to live and breathe the fellowship of the saints, the suffering of our Lord, the anointing of the Holy Spirit and the community-generating creative motion of the Father.

We confess we have not loved you with our whole hearts. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.

Tom Fuerst ~ Pastors, Moral Failings, and the Thing Nobody Wants to Talk About

When a pastor has a moral failing, especially of the sexual nature, everyone wants to talk through the sordid details. That thing that happens behind closed doors, that thing that is supposedly “no one else’s business” when it comes to my sexuality, becomes everyone’s business when it comes to the pastor. People want to know who the other party was. They want to know what led to the moral failing. They want to know (blame?) if the pastor’s wife didn’t “keep herself up” for him. They want to know how long the affair’s been going on. And they want to highlight all the possible ways the pastor might be a hypocrite for espousing a stern sexual ethic in public while living in blatant sin in private.

Everyone wants to talk about these things. Everyone wants to know.

But there’s an issue behind all of this that no one is addressing. There are questions to be asked that no one really wants to ask because such questions don’t make for good water-cooler gossip.

You see, lost in all the pastor-gone-wild media porn out there is the fact that pastors have jobs that, as largely defined in the American setting, are not sustainable for healthy living. The way the pastorate is defined in American culture, whether the church is large or small, reflects the larger systemic issue of an over-worked American society that knows nothing of a work/life balance. And this is not only the minister’s fault for living into this kind of lifestyle (though it is certainly our faults, too), but it’s also the church’s fault for expecting their pastors to live this way, or rather, for not expecting their pastors to model a better way of living.

The contemporary American pastorate in larger churches looks more like a CEO. His/her job is to make sure the investors are happy, engaged, and committed. S/he must provide a weekly presentation that emphasizes the entertainment factor to maintain the interest of the people. The pastor spends his time visioning, executing, managing, and promoting himself/herself and the church. The church becomes a commodity in this model, another thing people might consume or not consume, depending on whether or not they like the product and the person – the pastor – who advertises the product.

But it’s not much different in smaller congregations. In smaller churches, the pastor is always on the run doing all the hospital visits, administrative tasks, cleaning the church building, writing his sermons (often on Saturday nights), putting out congregational fires, and making sure the few parishioners are happy.

What strikes me here is that, when it comes to the moral failings of pastors, we want to talk as if this is an individual issue. As good Americans, we cannot look beyond the specific free will decisions of the isolated individual pastor. But whether we’re talking about large churches or small churches, when pastors are working 60+ hours on a consistent basis, we are setting him/her up for moral failure.

And yet, despite the plethora and increasing number of major pastoral moral failures in the last three decades, the American church continues to insist that this particular structure of pastoral ministry is not only the way it should be, but many argue, in fact, that it is biblical.

But this couldn’t be further from the truth. When the ministry of the church became too great for the apostles, the church didn’t come to them and offer them more money in exchange for more time spent at the church building. No, the apostles and the church worked together to find a way to ensure that the Apostles could focus on very specific things and let others concern themselves with what was left.

This is exactly what we see in Acts 6, when the ministry to the needy became too great for the apostles to take care of. Due to the size and demands of this early ministry,certain people (widows) were being neglected because the apostles couldn’t handle it all (6:1). When the job ministry is too big, matters of justice, things of importance to humans and God, get neglected. And the early church found a solution:

 And the twelve called together the whole community of the disciples and said, “It is not right that we should neglect the word of God in order to wait on tables. Therefore, friends, select from among yourselves seven men of good standing, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to this task, while we, for our part, will devote ourselves to prayer and to serving the word.” What they said pleased the whole community…

The apostles don’t see themselves as CEOs or slaves to the church. They see themselves as fulfilling a specific duty for the church: the ministry of the word of God and prayer. Everything else was dropped from their plate. And not only did the church not look down on them or call them lazy for a desire to emphasize these two tasks alone, but this suggestion “pleased the whole community.”

I’m not arguing here that a pastor’s moral failings are somehow excusable. They’re not. These men and women make terrible decisions that have long term impacts on their families and their churches. But make no mistake about it: these decisions are not made in a vacuum. These decisions are made in the context of a church structure that fails to emphasize what the apostles in Acts 6 emphasized. Pastors are encouraged to be leaders and counselors, friends with everyone and visioneers for the city, but I wonder how often pastors are simply encouraged to be ministers of the word and prayer.

I wonder when the last time a church simply wrote on their senior pastor job description, “we’re looking for a man or woman who simply focuses on the word of God and prayer.”

In the end, this Americanized, degenerate pastorate has already failed. The only reason we can’t see it is because our American individualism blinds us to how structures of oppression work. And, yes, I use the term oppression on purpose. A consistent 50-70 hour work week is not liberty, but enslavement – a return to Egypt. A consistent neglect of family in order to meet the needs of everyone else’s family is not freedom, but bondage.

The American pastorate is bondage.

We want our pastors to be the moral reflections of a godly humanity. We demand that they live in glass houses and sit on pedestals. But we’ve structured their lives in a way that inevitably leads to failure. This is a no-win situation for anyone. I just wonder how many lives will be ruined before we seek a better way. How long will it be before the church demands a better, more biblical way? I don’t know. But I’m not holding my breath for this trend of pastoral moral failings to stop so long as we continue to view the ministry through the lens of the American way instead of the way of the apostles.

Read more from Rev. Tom Fuerst at www.tom1st.com.

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ Called to be a Nimble Follower

What does it take to be a nimble follower of Jesus Christ?

Describing yourself as “nimble” (“quick,” “light,” “quick to comprehend”) may not be a trendy way to phrase a quality – I doubt I’ll see it on any t-shirts soon, unless it becomes a merchandised quote from a quirky show – but followers of Jesus Christ are called to be nimble, even if you can only picture “nimble” in the context of a candlestick and a bloke named Jack.

How can we be quick, light followers of Jesus who are quick to comprehend?

Nimble followers of Jesus first have situational awareness. Whether you’re an athlete (unlike the time I got whacked in the side of the face with a volleyball because I wasn’t paying attention) or an air force pilot, both of whom practice situational awareness regularly, you know the importance of keeping the big picture in mind. What is happening around you? Where are the people around you? At what part of a process are you now executing a maneuver? This global perspective is essential. It requires seeing beyond your own borders, looking beyond your own life, and tuning in to the activity around you.

Consider New Testament examples: Jesus spotting Zacchaeus in the tree; Jesus “having” to go through Samaria; even Jesus methodically braiding a whip to cleanse the temple. Jesus’ situational awareness went beyond these examples though: upon seeing a paralyzed man, he first forgives his sins. Upon responding to one plea for healing, he first feels power go out of him in a crowd. Though his disciples frequently got frustrated with his seeming lack of situational awareness – “everyone’s been looking for you,” “you’ve talked so long the people are hungry – what will we feed them?” and the favorite – “how can you be asleep? we’re all going to drown!” – Jesus had Spirit-filled situational awareness to the things were essential for him to carry out his earthly ministry.

Nimble followers of Jesus also have singlemindedness, that quality of focus that edges right up to preoccupation or obsession without going over – though, to others, it may seem we have. “Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:13-14). To be singleminded means to have unity of purpose, thought, direction, focus, like the intent face of a crouched tennis player, putting pro golfer or springing basketball player. Singleminded people cut out otherwise harmless or good things in order to dwell on what they are doing and why they are doing it. The adolescent Jesus displayed this to Joseph and Mary’s chagrin when he got caught up in the temple and was surprised to see them worried.

Astronaut Chris Hadfield describes this quality at length in his fascinating book, “An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth: What Going to Space Taught Me about Ingenuity, Determination, and Being Prepared for Anything.”  Growing up in Canada, Hadfield decided he wanted to be an astronaut – even though at the time Canada didn’t have a space program. Every decision he made in his career positioned him to be well-placed in case the opportunity ever arose. It did. In the meantime, his singlemindedness had carried him through years before his goal was reached.

Nimble followers of Jesus are all in. They are willing to put skin in the game, to make sacrifices easily and quickly. From someone who played “all in,” consider the wise words of  NBA star (and famous Hoosier) Larry Bird: “It makes me sick when I see a guy just stare at a loose ball and watch it go out of bounds.” Bird was describing the kind of player who was making a great deal of money but who wasn’t all in – and it made him sick.

Simon Peter wanted to be all in, thought he was all in, and it nearly destroyed him to realize that he wasn’t. Only by the power of the Holy Spirit was he able to be all in. And when he was all in, he no longer counted the cost. He followed the pattern Christ set in Gethsemene – “yet not my will, but thine be done.”

Quick, light, comprehending followers of Jesus maintain situational awareness, singlemindedness, and the wholehearted commitment of being all in.

So what keeps us from being nimble followers of Jesus Christ? What might prevent us from being quick and light as we follow Jesus? What might slow us down, burden us, wear us away, or cloud our comprehension?

When followers of Jesus don’t maintain situational awareness, it is often because we are zoomed in to our immediate circumstances or context to an extent that becomes nearsighted. I might have eyes for my own world, my own schedule, my own demands – and therefore, thinking about my grocery list, as it were, I back into a truck, only alerted to the presence of another vehicle when grinding metal crunches the air and halts my thoughts. A crumpled bumper is one thing, but what about when you lose situational awareness in your individual spiritual life or in the community life of your fellow believers? Nearsighted followers of Jesus run up against screeching metal and are startled out of their immediate focus. This has happened recently as North American Christians have reacquainted themselves with the ongoing reality of racism in the United States.

When followers of Jesus don’t maintain singlemindedness, we fall prey to distractions that take our eyes off the ball. Our attention wavers, or we get “choked by the cares of this world,” which we deem a higher priority than our singular bent towards Christ, or we slowly allow split loves, believing we can maintain more than one love, living with a divided heart. It is such an insidious way to die.

Because losing singlemindedness is the way of death, as Colonel Hadfield describes in his section on Pre-Launch in his chapter, “What’s the Next Thing That Could Kill Me?” Astronauts have to practice worst-case scenario simulations over and over again in multiple versions. What will we do if this fails? What will we do if this appears to fail but isn’t actually failing? And so on. And no astronaut can afford to maneuver the tricky re-entry phase of the mission while wondering if her or his family remembered to pay the water bill on time.

When followers of Jesus don’t maintain the commitment to be “all in,”  we are usually giving in to a sneaky set of emotions: fear, or reserve, or self-preservation. Whatever we’re giving in to, it isn’t love – that effective excuse that silences others. “I love my kids too much to enter ministry,” and so on. Keeping something back usually means fear – fear of pain, fear of being made fun of (so many grown-up’s still carry that fear), fear of being let down, fear of missing opportunity for advancement – because sometimes self-preservation looks a lot like ambition. And we stand, and stare at the loose ball, and watch it go out of bounds…

If you want to be a quick. light follower of Jesus who comprehends quickly – in other words, nimble – think about a situation where you’re not feeling particularly nimble right now. Is there a situation about which you feel clouded, confused, divided, fearful, reserved, or nearsighted?

Now, put a little situational awareness into play: what are the facts? What are some primary dynamics? What outcomes might arise from the circumstances? (“What’s the next thing that could kill me?”)

Next, ask yourself: “Given my history, my personality, my current setting, what things tend to derail singlemindedness in my life? Given our history, our collective personality, our current setting, what things tend to derail singlemindedness in my tradition or denomination?”

And then, consider this: “What truths or misconceptions could keep me from being ‘all in’? What truths or misconceptions could keep my tradition or denomination from being ‘all in’?”

Can you be nimble for Christ? Can you, as an individual, be ready, quick, light on your feet? Is your tradition well-poised to be ready, quick, light on its feet, in service to Christ? 

Dear ones, we are not playing the heartbreaking game that we narrowly lost that keeps us up at night; we’re not playing the game we had hoped to play, dreamed of playing when we envisioned a glorious tournament; we are playing this field, as it is, this moment. Today is the setting in which we are called to be nimble: behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of our salvation.

As Saul the persecutor-turned-Paul-the-Apostle wrote in II Corinthians 6:

Working together with him, then, we appeal to you not to receive the grace of God in vain.For he says,

“In a favorable time I listened to you,
    and in a day of salvation I have helped you.”

Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation. We put no obstacle in anyone’s way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry, but as servants of God we commend ourselves in every way: by great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments,riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger; by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, the Holy Spirit, genuine love;  by truthful speech, and the power of God; with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left; through honor and dishonor, through slander and praise. We are treated as impostors, and yet are true;  as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and behold, we live; as punished, and yet not killed;  as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing everything.

We must be nimble so that we do not receive the grace of God in vain.

Aware to the situation in which we find ourselves – truthful and honest about what the console tells us as we blast off.

Singleminded in our pursuit of Jesus Christ and him alone.

All-in, dedicated, given over to that which we have given ourselves.

We must be nimble so that we do not receive the grace of God in vain.

Are we free to follow Christ quickly, lightly, quickly comprehending his ways? That is a question worth losing sleep over.

A brief note: equipping yourself to be a nimble follower of Jesus is a distinct trail leading off from the path along which we build monuments. Our experiences of Christ transcend the context in which we met him, learned about him and grew more like him. Anything other than quick, ready following of Jesus slides rapidly toward the slippery desire for tabernacles on a mountaintop, so beware.

And let us, as part of the Body of Christ, confess our sins.

Lord, as your followers we have often been nearsighted and self-absorbed, limiting our awareness of our situation; we have traded singlemindedness for trying to please many and gain the love of all; we have reserved part of ourselves from you, keeping back a portion and resisting your call to be “all in.” Because of this, we confess that we have confused our vision, weighed ourselves down, divided our heart, and trusted in ourselves to know best and protect ourselves fully. For this, we are truly sorry and we humbly repent. Forgive us and light in us the glow of your Holy Spirit. Help us to think of things other than ourselves; to be singleminded in love, thought, purpose and intent; and to release fear, self-preservation and ambition to you. Show us true liberty, plant in us a vision of what the church can be when we are equipped as a body to be nimble followers of you, light and quick to hear your calling. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit – Amen.

Earlier I stated:

“when followers of Jesus don’t maintain the commitment to be ‘all in,’  we are usually giving in to a sneaky set of emotions: fear, or reserve, or self-preservation. Whatever we’re giving in to, it isn’t love – that effective excuse that silences others. ‘I love my kids too much to enter ministry,’ and so on. Keeping something back usually means fear – fear of pain, fear of being made fun of (so many grown-up’s still carry that fear), fear of being let down, fear of missing opportunity for advancement – because sometimes self-preservation looks a lot like ambition. And we stand, and stare at the loose ball, and watch it go out of bounds…”

What if I shifted a few words and rephrased a few observations:

“Whatever we’re giving in to, it isn’t love – that effective excuse that silences others. ‘I love my family too much to risk my pension, no matter what doctrinal changes occur in my faith tradition. I love my friends too much to practice the faith I genuinely believe Jesus is calling me to. I love my denomination too much to wonder what God may actually be calling me to do,’ and so on. Keeping something back usually means fear – fear of pain, fear of being made fun of, fear of being let down, fear of missing opportunity for advancement…”

What might a fellowship of believers look like that was free to follow the swift promptings of the Holy Spirit?

Are we letting the ball go out of bounds? Are you?

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ What Pastors Can Learn from Zumba

Recently I took a college student with me to a Zumba class at the local Y.

“What you see may not be pretty. What happens at Zumba stays at Zumba.” This warning is necessary for all who accompany me to a workout class, given my unique combination of Lucille Ball and Miranda Hart-like skills or, more specifically, lack thereof.

Male pastors in particular, I speak to you today. I understand you might be uncomfortable visiting a primarily female workout class (though occasionally there are a few men). My advice: book a special Zumba session just for you and your staff or clergy group. It will be highly instructive, and hey, we all know the risks to personal health that ministry can inflict. You probably need to get your target heart rate up anyway.

This post isn’t so much about what pastors can learn from Zumba as what they must, and because the Venn Diagram results of clergy who sweat through Latin music dance exercise class who write yields only a small overlap, I’m here today.

1. Leaders occasionally need to put themselves in a place of following instructions in a group.

Pastors, no matter what your role or title in a local congregation, are frequently up front and on the platform. Many gatherings of pastors, who, whatever their personalities, are intrinsically in leadership positions, end up being, “all shepherds, no sheep.” Pastors are used to making decisions, bearing a weight of responsibility, and being the one who has to run things.

When I enter Zumba class, I’m not the expert in the room – to put it mildly. I’m not choosing a hobby at which I already excel (a tempting option to tired leaders). I enter the room knowing I’m not the one in charge.

What blissful relief.

You’re not the one a roomful of people is following.

But be warned.

You’re not the one a roomful of people is following.

Can you be comfortable with that? It’s a good test. You need to have some area in your life, some space in your life, where you have to be the clueless follower. You may not choose Zumba as the arena in which to practice that (though I think it’d be a great staff exercise), but you need to remind yourself of what it is to follow.

It’s also helpful to watch how someone else leads. How do they cue? Do they seem like they enjoy what they’re doing? If you find yourself frustrated, why? Is it your lack of ability to mimic them? How might people on your staff or in your congregation or district or conference feel similar?

2. Leaders occasionally need to put themselves in a place of uncomfortable marginalization.

When I enter the aerobic room at the Y, which dauntingly has two mirrored walls, I set down my water and take my place.

At the back.

The very back.

Of the hour-long class, the first 20 minutes or so I can usually follow the leader pretty well. The next 20 minutes is definitely uphill. The last 20 minutes, I’m following her in my mind, but my body doesn’t cooperate and the word “flail” comes to mind.

I deliberately place myself on the margin, but I’m in a place of marginalization nonetheless. One of my first days in Zumba I remember thinking, “and this is what it must feel like to visit a church and feel completely out of place and bewildered.” Even if you have a great “hospitality team” or “greeters,” sometimes if they’re too in-your-face it feels just as overwhelming: you want to explore at your own pace, make your own judgments.

The only way through is…doing it. Friendly faces who smile wryly between songs while getting a drink of water are helpful, but at the end of the day, you’re the only one who can do it.

It’s valuable to remember the off-kilter feeling of being on the edge, the threshold. There are participants here who are already friends, who are familiar with the music, who run half marathons and even wear Zumba shoes. Who’s on the inside and who’s on the outside?

3. Leaders occasionally need to put themselves in a place of being a minority.

Depending on the day, sometimes when I walk into the room I’m a minority, not in terms of gender or skill, but in terms of race and cultural background. The first day I realized this, a deep wistfulness washed over me.

“Why don’t more churches look like this?” I thought.

There were senior citizens and teenagers, Latina women and black women and white women, fit women and very large women, chic women and dowdy women.

All sweating together, moving to the same music, like fitness Pentecost. We were sweating enough to feel like tongues of fire were on our heads.

It’s the history of the church and the future of the church.

I so want it to be the present.

When’s the last time you picked up your keys and drove somewhere to take part in something where your culture or race might not be dominant, especially if you’re Caucasian? Do you regularly seek that out as a discipline in your life?

As I look over these three points, something strikes me, after recently visiting the site in Georgia where John and Charles Wesley spent some time.

Wesley had trouble with these things at one point in his story, as he watched from the outside as the Moravians handle crisis gracefully, as he placed himself as an outsider in Georgia with the hopes of being a missionary to Native Americans, as he had trouble getting along and following others.

All of these things helped unsettle his heart so that it could be strangely warmed (not by an hour of Zumba, according to our best church history records).

If your ministry has stalled, go to Zumba. Maybe Aldersgate will follow.

Kevin Murriel ~ Race: The Newest Old Issue Confronting American Christian Life

This is the first in a series of articles on racial reconciliation in American Christian Life.

Several weeks ago I attended a conference in Houston, Texas that targeted ministry with large churches. Throughout the conference were presentations on technology, capitol campaigns, and “new age” ideas in ecclesiological innovation. Many left with concepts to take back to their congregations in hopes of implementation while others departed inspired with a rejuvenated energy for ministry. I, however, returned to Atlanta convinced that few recognized what was missing. There was no mention of the race problem we continue to face that affects American Christian life and the growth of our congregations.

Yes, I called it a “problem.” Problems are unresolved issues that stall progress. And needless to say, our inability as a country and as the Body of Christ to have productive conversations about the reality of racism is a problem. By race, I mean, our biologically engineered features (not to be confused with ethnicity) – the problem we often have with each other because of our color differences.

One of my confirmation classes experienced this problem first-hand. At their confirmation retreat two years ago, 35 black youth from an affluent Atlanta congregation were asked by a large group of white youth if their church was “ghetto”and if their hair was “real.” Where they were from and how prominent their parents were didn’t matter–only the difference in their skin color.

Because of the race problem, the nation now has to face itself in the way it did when Emmett Till was murdered in 1955. Ordering that the casket remain open at his funeral, Till’s mother wanted America to see that senseless killing as a result of racism is not just unjust, but evil. That no one regardless of their color should have their life end under such cruel circumstances.

Fast-forward 60 years and the nation now faces more media coverage of the killings of unarmed black men and women as well as the issue of racial profiling. Not that these things are new, they are just receiving more media coverage since the Travyon Martin case in 2012.

It is important to pause here and explain my intent. I am not a race baiter.  Neither do I believe that inciting rage is the way to productive discourse. Rather, I am a pastor who always seeks ways to unite God’s people regardless of the associated discomfort.

Race is an uncomfortable thing to discuss. It brings back memories for many who would prefer them remain in the closet in which they were locked. Some even ask if race matters at all.  It is the 21st century and by the way, we have a two-term black president, interracial families, minority-owned businesses and multi-cultural churches. Why is there a race conversation?

A recent New York Times article titled, “Racial Bias, Even When We Have Good Intentions,” cited a study conducted by Marianne Bertrand, an economist from the University of Chicago that highlighted the effect of race on job opportunities. Bertrand and her team mailed thousands of résumés to employers with job openings and measured which ones were selected for callbacks for interviews. But before sending them, they randomly used stereotypically African-American names (such as “Jamal”) on some and stereotypically white names (like “Brendan”) on others.

The same résumé was roughly 50 percent more likely to result in a callback for an interview if it had a “white” name–even though the résumés were statistically identical.

The conversation about race is important for the Church because it directly affects our parish–the world. And though every person has value, we each have intrinsic prejudices. Whether parents become nervous when a black kid shows up to a majority white youth group, or members of a primarily black congregation look suspiciously at a Latino man with tattoos who decides to attend worship, we often have the propensity to feel some kind of way towards the “other.”

So, where do we begin?

I contend that it begins with a desire to love all people and seeing the Kingdom of God as racially diverse. God did not create everyone to physically look the same so it is preposterous to think that God is White, Black, Hispanic, or any other race and only attends a certain “type”of church. Such a theology about God will keep the Church divided as it has for centuries.

One of my mentors, Dr. Gil Watson, is a white pastor serving one of the most prominent churches in United Methodism, located in the Buckhead area of Atlanta, Georgia. He is 40 years my elder and has been in ministry longer than I have been alive. We continue to see God, through our conversations, expand our understanding of each other and our calling as pastors. This relationship is intentional, and at times, uncomfortable for us both; and at the same time, one of the most rewarding experiences of our lives.

What he and I understand is that we are the Church–one, holy, apostolic, and universal–and our witness demands that we live in these intentional, uncomfortable relationships and lead the difficult conversations about the race problem. Society should not drive the Church; rather, the Church should be the influencer of society.

The race problem, however, does not have to remain. When reconciliation comes, such a problem is overcome. This will be the next subject in this series. So, stay tuned.

Michelle Bauer ~ I Must Go

To be a follower is not a valued characteristic in our culture, is it?  If someone asked us if we wanted our children to grow up to be followers or leaders, I’m guessing most of us would say leaders. When we hire or promote someone at work are we looking for leaders or followers? Businesses and even ministries offer people leadership training. But have you ever heard of a group that offers follower training? When we are giving life lessons to our children we say, “don’t be a follower.” It’s even something we say as sort of an insult: “that person is such a follower.”

I wonder if that’s why we have a hard time following Jesus.

Following requires us to give up control and submit to the leader. Who wants to do that?!  I prefer to do things my way, plot my own course and figure it out. Following slows us down. It requires us to proceed at another person’s pace or take the long way if that’s what they prefer.

As I’ve pondered discipleship over the last weeks, the word that keeps floating past is “follow”.  Discipleship can be a scary word. It sounds really intense and serious. But it really just means to learn from someone through a process of listening and doing.

About 12 years ago before our kids were born, my husband Chris talked me into taking scuba diving lessons with him. I’m not what you would call an adventurous person. I have no need to bungee jump or sky dive. Riding a bike is about as adventurous as I get. So this was a big stretch for me. But he was excited and wanted us to do this together. So, I agreed.

To learn to scuba dive you have to go through a pretty structured certification process. It starts with a text book, classroom lectures and even tests. That was right up my alley!

The next step is to handle the equipment, put together the gear, the regulator and air tanks. Chris and I were the only students in our class. So, we had a lot of opportunities to ask questions and get really comfortable with how everything worked.

Then one day, we had to actually get in the water.

The dive center had a little pool right in their building. It was the perfect place to practice because it felt contained – you could see the sides and there was no wildlife. The regulator is the thing that is connected to your air tank. When you put it in your mouth you are able to breathe normally. What I discovered pretty quickly, though, is that it is one thing to read in a book about how a regulator works but it’s something altogether different to put it in your mouth and start to breathe as you go under water.

Let’s just say I had a few false starts and sucked down about a half a tank of air before I finally got all the way under. But the instructor was really patient and kept saying things like, “this is really normal.”  He stayed close by and that gave me a lot of comfort.

When it was time to do our certification dive, we drove out to an abandoned quarry that had been flooded. We got all of our equipment on and walked into the water. It was a really smooth entry, mainly because we could go at our own pace. We went down to about 25 feet and swam around for a while. When we surfaced, we were certified divers.

A few months later, we went on vacation to Mexico and Chris signed us up to do a drift dive over a coral reef with a group. I was a little nervous – this wasn’t a quarry and there wasn’t an instructor present. We were on our own. We had to get on a boat, ride out into what felt like the middle of the ocean and were then forced out of the boat.  As we are getting on the boat, they made the announcement that we would be going to a depth of 80 feet and they asked if everyone had gone to that depth before. I looked at Chris and we began this conversation using our eyes, like married people do. My eyes said “we have not gone to 80 feet before.” And his eyes said, “if you tell them that, they might not let us dive.” I was ok with that; he was not.

Eighty feet sounded like a different planet to me at that point. There is a big difference between 25 and 80 feet, at least for a beginner. At 25 feet, you can see the surface of the water. That is comforting. At 25 feet you can get to the surface quickly if there is a problem with your air supply. At 80 feet you cannot see the surface and you have to ascend in stages or you could hurt your ears. You can’t just panic and pop to the surface.

The other thing that was making me nervous was a movie we had seen called “Open Water.” The plot of this movie revolves around a couple that had gone scuba diving while on vacation in another country, and when they resurfaced, the group and boat had left them on accident. They bobbed around in the water for a few hours and then they got eaten by sharks. Oh yeah – and the movie was based on a true story. So I had all of this running through my non-adventurous mind as we were riding to the dive site.

I have a very strong flight or fight instinct. Except my instinct is always towards flight. Now if there is some sort of emotional crisis, I’m your gal. But if I sense that I am in physical danger, I flee every time. I don’t wait around to take others with me or even warn of danger. I go.

That day we were doing a drift dive, which means that we weren’t diving to look at something and then surfacing all in one spot. Once we got to the bottom, the guy leading the group would find the current and we would ride it for a few miles to another location where the boat would pick us up. I saw all sorts of opportunities for danger in this plan – I could get separated from the group, get disoriented, look around and find myself alone in the ocean – at 80 feet.

As I’m descending to 80 feet I’m frantically strategizing how I’m going to get out of this alive. When you dive, you always dive in pairs. You are supposed to stay close to your buddy and check in periodically to make sure they are doing ok and to offer assistance if they need it. Well, we got to 80 feet and I abandoned my buddy which happened to be Chris. “For better or worse” doesn’t count at 80 feet.

Instead, I found the professional diver master who was leading the group and I stuck to him like glue. I figured if something happened I wanted him to be the one coming to my rescue. And I figured the tour operators wouldn’t leave him in the ocean. They would know he was missing and when they found him, they would find me too. I would have gone anywhere with this guy and nothing or no one was going to get in between us. I was going to follow any instruction he gave me immediately and completely. I really wanted to live. If I could have tethered myself to him, I would have.

And my plan worked! We survived the dive. I had gone from reading a textbook about diving to actually diving at 80 feet!

The Invitation – “Follow”

I was able to get from a book to the ocean through a process.

There are a lot of similarities between that process and the process of discipleship. Through the gospels, we see Jesus leading his disciples through a very similar process.

Jesus didn’t originate the discipleship model. In the New Testament world, if you wanted to learn something – a skill or a subject – you became someone’s disciple. Disciples didn’t attend a course or a seminar; they attached themselves to their teacher and followed them around for as long as it took to learn what they wanted to learn. A disciple went through a series of steps on their way to becoming experts themselves:

  1. They began by reading, watching and listening.
  2. They asked questions – why did you do this that way? Or you said this, what does it mean?
  3. Then they progressed to doing the thing they were learning, under the master’s supervision. If something didn’t go well they could ask for clarification or more teaching.
  4. Finally, the master sent them out on their own and expected them to operate independently of him or her. It was also understood at this point that they were able to teach others what they had learned.

Before a person began this process, though, they had to accept an invitation to become someone’s disciple. The gospels tell the story of how Jesus gathered and trained his original group of 12 disciples.  We learn through their stories what it means to leave the life you know in order to follow.

After Jesus’ baptism and time of temptation in the desert, he begins his formal ministry. His first project is to assemble a group of disciples. He doesn’t ask for applications and pick the people who have the best resumes or credentials. He doesn’t pick the people who everyone else would consider “disciple material.” He picks the guys that didn’t have a chance in the world of becoming anyone else’s disciple. They had jobs like fishing and tax collecting and leading rebellions. Let’s look at Jesus’ invitation to Peter and Andrew in Matthew chapter 4 verses 18-22.

Peter and Andrew and James and John respond to this amazing offer by immediately accepting. They didn’t weigh their options or seek advice. They literally dropped their nets, got out of their boats and walked away with Jesus.

These disciples demonstrated for us the first lesson of becoming a disciple. In order to accept an invitation to follow, we will have to leave something behind. These disciples left behind the tools of their trade – their boats and nets – their profession, their businesses, their investment, their father and their father’s plan for their lives.

Sometimes, the call is to literally walk away from your life as you know it. Other times, we are called to keep living our same lives but in a different way.  Sometimes this is the harder call, because the nets we leave behind are the unhealthy things we do to make our lives ok. We leave behind addictions, habits, passive-aggressive responses, temper tantrums, denial and a thousand other things we do to get through our days. To go back to your relationships and your work as someone who follows Jesus can be very challenging. But so can following Jesus while dragging around our old life.

At the end, 12 men accept Jesus’ invitation to follow him. And he proceeds to lead them through the process of teaching them everything they needed to know and do to be like him:

  1. They follow him from village to village and listen to him preach. They have front row seats as he heals the sick and casts out demons.
  2. They have lots of opportunities to ask questions – they draw him aside after he speaks in parables and ask what they mean.
  3. Then Jesus starts to give them jobs to do. He asks them to feed the 5,000 people who’ve gathered to hear him preach. They’ve watched him do miracles and now he wants to see what they’ve learned about how he operates.
  4. Finally, in Mark chapter six, he gives them authority and sends them out in groups of two to minister in villages. He sends them out to be fishers of men.

This is very much what our journey of discipleship should look like. Learning to be like and act like Jesus should be the primary focus of our lives. He asks us to learn how to do the life we already have like he would. What kind of a spouse would he be to my spouse? How would he parent my children? How would he do my job?  What kind of a student would he be? Too many times, though, we don’t let being a disciple sink that deep.

Often our discipleship is focused on steps 1 and 2 – learning about Jesus. Think back to my scuba diving experience. If I told you I was a scuba diver and then you found out I’d only read the book and listened to the lectures but had never been in the water, what would you think? You’d think my statement was a bit of a stretch wouldn’t you?  Why? Because reading about something and doing something are two different things.

A discipleship process that stops at listening to sermons or even reading the Bible is not complete.

Those things are very important but we must add the “doing” in steps 3 and 4 if we are to be disciples. We must move through the steps like the disciples did. We need to ask questions and figure out what we believe. We need to start participating in God’s work through service. Once we know enough and have experienced enough we need to get into the water and start doing it.

We can put the brakes on this process at any time. I could have taken all the written tests and decided that was far enough. No one was going to drag me into the pool. And Jesus did not drag any disciples along against their will. At every step we have the opportunity to accept his invitation to go farther.

This is where trust comes in. As we follow him, we learn that we can trust him. He doesn’t ask us to dive in the ocean until we are ready. And when we are ready, he dives down with us and lets us swim right up with him.

Dallas Willard, a Christian philosopher and  a pastor for many years, wrote and taught some amazing things about what it means to follow Jesus. He once said in an interview, “the only thing that transforms us spiritually is the action of following Christ.”  Knowledge and experiences of feeling God’s presence only transform us if we do something with them.

That kind of talk can make us nervous. We believe in grace, right? We believe we do not earn salvation by works, right?  Absolutely. But salvation is not the end; it is the beginning. At the moment of salvation we are saying to Jesus, “yes, we want to follow you.” And then we start following him.

In II Peter chapter one verse five, Peter (who is a graduate of Jesus’ discipleship program) encourages us to “make every effort to add to our faith.” God does not want us to go through life burdened with the thought that we have to earn our salvation. But he does expect us to put some muscle behind our faith. Discipleship happens when we choose to put into practice what we are learning and experiencing.

When we begin to serve and make disciples things get interesting. I was not once nervous sitting in the classroom learning about scuba diving. I said things like “how interesting!” and took notes – sort of like I do on Sunday mornings at church. What requires effort is what happens as I take what I learn on Sunday morning and put it into practice.

A few months ago, I heard a song about following Jesus: “I will go with Jesus where he leads, no matter the roughness of the road. I must go. I must go.”

The person leading worship taught it to us. This is a fun song to sing. It’s catchy! And it caught me all week long. Whenever I was at a crossroads – the moments you decide, am I going to do what I want or go where God is leading – I heard that song in my head. Then the song went from something fun to a matter of obedience.

That’s the roughness of the road. For many of us it is not martyrdom or losing all of our possessions as we flee to the mountains. It is those moments when we have to take what we are learning and choose to obey.

Discipleship sometimes takes us to places that are new and hard and not our normal. And it is in those places that we are compelled to follow Jesus. I dove at 25 feet like a normal sane person. But when I was led to 80 feet, I followed as if my life depended on it.  Jesus takes us to places where we are forced to follow as if our lives depend on it. These are the places where our natural skills and abilities just won’t cut it. These are places where we are inexperienced and unsure.

In the book of John we see a great example. In chapter 11 verse 16, Jesus has just gotten word that his friend Lazarus has died and he tells his disciples that the plan is to go to Bethany.  The disciples say to Jesus, “normally we’d be all about that, but if you’ll remember, Jesus, the last time you were in Bethany, your enemies tried to kill you.”  Jesus insists on going, and that’s when we get to verse 16.

Lots of people will say that Thomas is the Eeyore of the group. “Well, if we’re gonna die, let’s get it over with…” But I think Thomas is courageous. He actually thinks he’s going to die and yet he follows Jesus to Bethany! Why would he do that? Because he realizes that Jesus is Lord and that to follow him is the best thing he can do with his life – even if he loses it.

Not many of us will be asked to follow Jesus into physical death but there are a lot of things that feel like death – fighting addiction feels like death sometimes, and so does walking away from a damaging relationship, and loving someone who has wounded you and choosing peace when all you want to do is fight.

That’s what “no matter the roughness of the road” means.

The Commission – “Go!”

When Jesus invites you to become his disciple his desire is for you to complete this whole process. And he’s really honest about that. Let’s look again at Matthew 4:18.

When Jesus finds Peter and Andrew they are fishing because they are fishermen. What we “do” flows out of who we “are”.  Jesus’ invitation to these men is an invitation to change not only what they “do” but who they “are”.

In verse 19, Jesus tells them exactly what he wants to change them into – fishers of men. There is no bait and switch here. From the moment they are called to follow, Jesus is very clear about the purpose – in order that they might reach others with the good news. Every master wanted their teachings or their craft to live on after they were gone. They were deeply invested in the process of teaching others and then setting them loose to teach still more.

So, after three years of being his disciple, when Jesus tells them, “Go! Make new disciples,” they should not have been surprised at all. He was very clear from the beginning.

In Matthew 28:16 Jesus tells his disciples to go to a mountain outside of town and wait for him there. This passage is known as the Great Commission. To commission someone means to grant them authority to accomplish a task.  This is the disciples’ graduation and commissioning ceremony.

Jesus says to them, “I have taught you what you need to know, I give you my authority, now go and find your own disciples and teach them to make disciples and through this process we will reach the entire world.” And Jesus’ plan worked. The gospel started with 12 people on a mountain in the Middle East and that same gospel has spread around the world.

And yet, there is still work to be done. Has the good news reached your work place, your neighborhood, your school?

This was a command given first to the 12 disciples, but if we want to be disciples of Christ it is also a command for us today. It is not a suggested add-on for those who are super Christians or for pastors.

The purpose of God calling and forming you is to reach others.

Of course he reaches out to us because he loves us; but he also loves the person you are called to reach out to. His desire is for them too. You are here because someone obeyed God’s call to “Go!” It might have been your parents or a pastor or a friend. But we are all here as a result.

I never got the chance to dive again after that vacation. We started having our family and my certification lapsed. But I wonder if the next time I went to 80 feet it would have been as scary? Or the twentieth time? I’m guessing the more we follow Jesus into the deep water of telling our stories and calling others to follow, the less scary it becomes.

How do we know when we are ready to start making disciples?  I would never have considered myself ready to go to 80 feet. I could have read a thousand books about diving, but until I went to 80 feet I wouldn’t have thought I could do it.

We will never feel ready. And that’s ok. When we head out to make disciples we don’t have to know everything or have all the answers. We are called to share our stories and invite people to follow Jesus with us. If you have learned one thing about Jesus or had one experience of him – you are ready. Someone you know may need to hear that one thing that you have learned.

What are we supposed to teach those we are discipling? We are to teach others to follow Jesus.  The invitation we give to others is not to believe and observe. It is an invitation to follow and obey. 

Let’s go back and look at the Jesus’ discipleship process:

  1. Listen and watch
  2. Ask questions
  3. Serve
  4. Make disciples

Here’s where Jesus’ discipleship process and those of other New Testament scholars differ. By the time you got to step 4 it was expected that you would begin to operate independently of your master.

But look again at Matthew 28:20. Jesus tells the disciples “I am with you always.” We always have our instructor with us!  Jesus left his disciples on that mountain when he returned to heaven but he sent the Holy Spirit who is the constant presence of God in our lives. Jesus never sends us off on a solo mission. If he sends us to 80 feet, he is right there with us.  And he loves the idea of us following him so closely that we can reach out and grab onto him at any moment.

Do you see yourself in this process somewhere? Or maybe you see yourself in a couple of places all at once? It is possible to be at step 3 in one area of your life and back at step 1 in another.  I can be making disciples and yet back at the learning and observing step as God deals with me about a specific issue.

This is why the process of discipleship never ends. Our whole lives are to be marked by following. I have made a decision to follow Jesus. But there are parts of me that haven’t gotten the news yet. As soon as God calls me to follow in another area of my life, I must be ready to go.

Are you ready to follow Jesus wherever he leads you? Are you willing to let him take you to the place where you really need him? The place where you have to follow as if your life depends on it?

The song “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus” does not say, “I will follow Jesus perfectly” or “I’m not afraid to follow.” We will not follow perfectly and we will often follow Jesus afraid, like Thomas did.

But we must follow Jesus – no matter the roughness of the road.

Maxie Dunnam ~ What Does the Lord Require of You?

It is printed on the wall of the Library of Congress, a scripture verse many learned in Sunday school. Some describe it as the definition of real religion. “He has told you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you?  To do justice, to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8) Those words are as valid today as they were 2,800 ago years ago when Micah wrote them.

Micah was a young contemporary of the prophets Isaiah, Hosea, and Amos in the Eighth Century B.C. There was a particular kinship between Micah and Amos when we think about justice. Both were products of the countryside. Being from rural Mississippi, I like to remind people of that. Amos’s penetrating word, “Let justice run down like waters and righteousness as an ever flowing stream,” (Amos 5:24) is a parallel proclamation to Micah’s, “He has told you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you?  To do justice, to love mercy and to walk humbly with you God.”

Most of us are wondering these days, when? When will “justice run down like waters, and righteousness as an overflowing stream?”

514px-Wattsriots-policearrest-locIn April of l964, I moved from Gulfport, Mississippi to San Clemente, California, in large part because of the civil rights issue and the church’s unwillingness to be practically and prophetically involved.  Mississippi was burning in all sorts of ways. Sixteen months after arriving in California, August, 1965, the Watts riots broke out. California was burning.

Fifty years later, Baltimore is burning.

After all these years of civil rights legislation, war on poverty, war on drugs, and the coming of age of at least two generations, fire breaks out in Baltimore. It is not surprising that the response we see is either cynicism (that’s just the way it is), or a feeling of helpless hopelessness (there’s nothing I/we can do). Have we made any progress? is a normal question to ask.

I urge us to say no to cynicism and get beyond hopelessness; at least to move to a point of thinking seriously. To head us in that direction, consider the fact that at the heart of the problem in Micah’s day was that Israel had grown tired of God and chosen to go her own way. Judges took bribes to render unfair judgments; priests were immoral; prophets would prophesy anything you wanted in exchange for a few shekels. Micah and the other prophets were scathing in their denunciation of people being seduced into turning away from God, worshipping and serving other gods. Those ancient Israelites were attracted to gods of sex, power and material things. Have the temptations changed?  Are we moderns not obsessed with self, forever making gods in our own image? What is good for us? What provides us the most pleasure and security?

What is least challenging to our status quo?

We are where we are, in large part, because we have not heeded Micah’s proclamation of God’s call: do justice, love mercy, walk humbly with God

Justice: making sure that all persons are treated fairly and have the opportunity to share in God’s good gifts. Micah said, do justice.  That means it is not enough to wish for justice or to complain because justice is lacking. God’s people must work for justice, for fairness and equality for all, particularly the weak and powerless who are exploited by others. Even the church, in black and white community, must examine itself in relation to this. Black preachers can speak with more integrity and influence in the black community about accountability and the breakdown of family structures than the white preacher. The white preacher can’t ignore his prophetic responsibility in dealing with the evil of racism because he/she is tired of two or three black preachers who make a career of moving into every “hot spot” to speak their word of condemnation.

Love mercy. When we talk about justice, we need to remember that God’s justice is always flavored with mercy. Justice without mercy is not God’s kind of justice, and mercy without justice is not God’s kind of mercy.

The Hebrew word for mercy is hesed, which is difficult to translate with a single English word. Most often rendered mercy, sometimes it is simply rendered kindness, and often a combination of two words, loving kindness.

Mercy, along with justice, is an action word, a matter of the will. It is not natural, because we are basically selfish persons. Mercy requires decision. It may be costly, often requiring giving up something for ourselves and doing something for the sake of others.

More often than not, our problem is not in not knowing what to do, but in doing it. I believe that’s the reason the prophet added, “walk humbly with God.” It is our willingness to walk daily with God that energizes us, enabling us to do justice and love mercy.

Mercy (hesed) was a special word to the Hebrews because it is one of the principal attributes used to describe God in the Old Testament. More often than not, justice and mercy were connected in the preaching of the prophets. In a word similar to Micah’s, the prophet Zechariah says, “Thus says he Lord of hosts: ‘Execute justice, show mercy and compassion. Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the alien or the poor.’” (7:8-9) So the three directions for “real religion” cannot be separated. Walking humbly with God – living all of life in relation to God – will result in doing justice and loving mercy.

With my background journey, with Mississippi, California, and now Baltimore burning, living in the city where Martin Luther King was killed, I’m convinced the fundamental problem is education and the breakdown of the family. Those two things are intimately connected. I believe that public education is the civil rights issue of the 21st century. The zip code of where a child lives should not determine whether that child has an opportunity for a quality education. Whether a child can read when finishing the third grades marks what is going to happen to him/her the rest of life (including whether they will end up in prison). Whether a young woman finishes high school and goes to college often marks whether she will have children out of wedlock. The level of education for most incarcerated persons is less than high school.

I know that issues are more complex than these assertions, but I’m weary of excusing ourselves because the issue is so complex. Education is clearly a justice/mercy issue. That’s the reason why our church in Memphis has made a missional commitment to doing justice in relation to education.

Our congregation (Christ United Methodist Church) has been involved in education almost from the beginning of her life in 1955. As soon as buildings were available, the church started a school, kindergarten through sixth grade. I’m sure the motives were not altogether “justice for all.” Some folks were probably acting selfishly, making sure the children of the congregation had the opportunity for a “quality” education.

I served as Senior Minister of Christ Church from 1982 to 1994. Christ Methodist Day School had become one of many outstanding private schools in the city. During those years, I sought to lead the school in reaching out to the underserved of our city. We provided scholarships and tried to manage some common transportation.  But nothing really worked in any significant way.

To be faithful as a congregation, to really do justice and love mercy, the congregation acted boldly in 2010 and opened Cornerstone Prep, a private, explicitly Christian school, with very focused attention to providing education for the underserved children of our city, locating it in the hood.  We sent prospective teachers and administrators to cities across America where effective urban education was taking place, studied these schools, and developed our own “style” in response. From the beginning, with 33 kindergarten students, this little school has had positive record-breaking outcomes.

There was no question of need. In 2011, 950 of Tennessee’s 1750 public schools failed to make adequate yearly progress. In the concentrated educational reform efforts of our state, 85 of the worst “failing” schools were targeted for intervention by the state. Through the Department of Education, our governor established a non-geographical district of these “failing” schools, designated it The Achievement School District, and named a superintendent of that district, charging him to “reclaim” those schools for effective education. Sixty-nine of the 85 failing schools are in Memphis, a glaring sign of the condition of public education in our city.

Lester School is the primary elementary school serving the Binghamton neighborhood, where our congregation has been serving in different ways for 20 years. We located Cornerstone Prep there as another expression of our commitment. Lester is among the 69 failing schools in Memphis; in fact, it was the lowest performing school in the state.

One year after The Achievement School District was established, and three years after Cornerstone Prep was founded, we had the opportunity to do justice and love mercy in the Binghamton Community in a more expansive way. We were invited to take responsibility for the first three grades of Lester School.

To do so, Cornerstone Prep would have to “give up” being an explicitly Christian private school and become a charter school. This change in status would allow Cornerstone Prep to serve the larger public good in a manner currently not possible, enabling Cornerstone Prep to serve 325 students, rather than the 66 we served the previous year. After that year, we were given the entire school, kindergarten through 6th grade.

The big question was: would we be willing to surrender being an explicitly Christian school? We remembered that Jesus said, “unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24). As those seeking to “do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God,” we decided that Cornerstone Prep had to die in the sense of being a private Christian school, in order to serve a desperate community. In the core sense, we did not forsake our “Christian mission” of “doing justice and loving mercy,” of serving “the least of these.” We decided to pursue the mission in a different way.  Some of what we had been able to do in Christian witness and teaching in the classroom, we now do “after school.” But more, we do it not in curriculum, but in the way we teach and how we express care and affirmation of the students. We do it through countless volunteers who mentor and read with students. We do it in an Art Garden for the students and the community, located across the street from the entrance to the school.

Cornerstone has had amazing results in proving that where a child lives does not determine learning potential. The educational measurements have exceeded national norms in every area, so our little school has gotten state and national attention. The establishment of this school was one expression of our church doing justice. It is our statement that if our church is going to provide quality education for our suburban constituency through Christ Methodist Day School, justice requires that we seek the same for the children in Binghamton and the whole city.

I dream of the day when God’s dream, expressed by Micah’s contemporary, Amos, will be realized in our city: justice and righteousness will be running throughout our city “like a mighty stream.” For now, it isn’t. But the flow has begun and is gaining velocity. Cornerstone will be responsible for all the grades of Lester School in the school year 2015-16, and will also assume responsibility for another of the failing schools in The Achievement School District. From a small but bold dream that began with 33 kindergarten children, after six years, we will be serving 1,400 students.

A bold teacher-training program, Memphis Teacher Residents, is increasing the pool of outstanding teachers. With the 2015 graduating class, 267 will have received their Masters Degree in Urban Teaching through this innovative program, having made the commitment to teach in our public schools for at least three years. Seventy-nine outstanding college graduates from across the nation are committed to be a part of the next cohort of this program. Our goal is to have at least 1,000 persons trained in this program that has been judged by national organizations to be exceptionally effective, teaching in our Memphis public schools.

Hundreds of volunteers are giving generous hours weekly to tutor and mentor. The stream is rising and flowing more strongly. One day, cities across the nation are going to say, “they did it in Memphis; we can do it here.” And in the city where he died, we will prove Dr. King right: “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ Invisible Growth: Because Evil Doesn’t Win

Do you remember standing tall and straight against a door jamb etched with pencil markings as a child? Was there a spot in the family home marking years of growth? Perhaps you had a growth chart, able to be folded away and moved as you relocated.

If measuring height was part of your childhood, you’ll know that feeling in your bones – the pull of muscle, joint, ligament as you pull yourself up to your fullest height without allowing your heels to leave the floor: you stretch as much as possible without actually going up on your toes. You trace former numbers – dates, heights.

How far you’ve come.

Tracking growth is fun; an odd pride results. How I’ve grown over the past year, you think. Naturally, we like to take stock. You stand, back to the wall, assured of a half an inch more height from the last time you were measured.

If only it were that easy.

One day – one very dark day, that followed on the heels of many other very dark days – I chatted with a wise old gentleman. He asked how I was doing. Sometimes, even in casual conversation, I forego trite responses and simply answer very honestly. That dark day was one of the first times I ventured into that.

With heavy eyes, heavy voice, heavy heart, I met his gaze.

“I’m discovering that sometimes we grow out – and sometimes we grow down. Growing out is more fun; it’s visible, there’s evidence, there’s fruit. But I’m learning the value of growing down – invisibly, under the surface, growing roots. I’m learning the value of not toppling in a storm. Sometimes growth is expansion; sometimes growth is not falling over when the wind blasts you.”

He held my heavy gaze and nodded slowly, knowingly, affirming what I struggled to verbalize. I felt like Yoda had just observed me slowly and painfully learning a new lesson. His expression was not without empathy for the pain of invisible growth.

Seasoned Christians seem stable because they know the enjoyment of measuring growth – but they don’t depend on those outward signs of success to affirm their character. They know who gets the most fun out of measuring growth: children…and that as much as kids mark growth with measures and comparison, their parents mark their growth not only with height but with behavior, attitudes and values: when a child becomes less selfish and more generous; when a child helps a sibling instead of impeding them; when a child shows courage and honesty instead of self-preservation. How do you measure those qualities with a yard stick?

If, for a moment, you’re “Judgment Day honest” with yourself – what do you use to measure growth in yourself and other Christians? Is it:

Being debt-free and practicing financial peace?

Salvaging your marriage in the nick of time?

Getting a promotion at work as a result of your good work ethic?

Raising kids who outwardly conform to the values with which they were raised?

Helping friends and family who are going through difficult times?

Going to a church where there aren’t just people of your race?

Even, says Jesus, the pagans do that. Which means these aren’t signs of spiritual growth; they’re signs of human maturity. They’re helpful signs, like lines marking 2 Feet, 3 Feet, 4 Feet on a charming Noah’s Ark-themed growth chart. But they’re not the real spiritual growth.

The spiritual growth is the painful, invisible growth that makes our heavenly Parent smile: the slow, costly growth that C.S. Lewis’ character Eustace experienced when Aslan had to remove his dragon scales.

But, you say in a moment of utter honesty, there’s no fun in invisible growth, in growing down rather than out; no one sees that. There’s no glory in it.

And it’s true. Growing pains don’t make the highlight reel – at least, the suburban North American highlight reel. It’s true – there’s no admiration from the neighbors when you painfully forgive your brother-in-law like there was when you paid cash for a new car. There’s no praise from your supervisor when your spouse starts homeschooling your troubled teen. There’s no Hallmark cards of appreciation arriving in the mail when you finally have some freedom from a soul-starving porn addiction.

But don’t believe for a second that there’s no glory in that.

The only glory that matters is, as one Max Lucado title points out, the applause of heaven. The only glory that matters is the praise we give the Triune God for bringing us through the storm that bent but did not break us:

Here I raise mine Ebenezer

Hither by Thy help I’ve come

And I hope – by Thy good pleasure –

Safely to arrive at home…

Hither by thy help I’ve come: here by your great help I’ve come.

What a measurement that is: not my self-aware growth, but rather how far God’s grace has brought me.

Why is invisible growth so important? It is vital for living in a world of storms, that rocks and quakes with evil. Analyzing a growth chart can’t sustain us when the rug is pulled out from under us. Where’s the significance in a promotion when the love of your life is dying from cancer? Where’s the glory in delivering a casserole to a friend when a black academic is body-slammed to the ground for jaywalking? Where’s the joy of being debt-free when your teenager disappears for days at a time and returns in a dazed high?

A woman graciously endures dehumanizing racism: here I raise my Ebenezer…

A lonely single man spends his vacation on a medical mission trip: hither by thy help I’ve come…

A sister holds her junkie brother in her arms, praying words of healing and victory into his ears: and I hope – by thy good pleasure…

A pastor forgives soul-crushing wounds inflicted a decade earlier: safely to arrive at home.

Oh friend, I’m so proud of you.

Look at how you’ve grown…

 

Andrew C. Thompson ~ The Virtue of Pastoral Leadership

I returned recently from a trip to the beautiful hill country of north Alabama. While there I spent a day in conversation with Methodist clergy from there about leadership in the church.

The questions we were grappling with are important for the future of any church in the Methodist family: What does Wesleyan pastoral leadership look like? Is there even such a thing?

I’ve been pondering these questions for a few years, since I first taught a seminary course called, “Models of Wesleyan Pastoral Leadership.” The idea of Leadership Studies is, of course, very much in vogue right now. That’s true for many different fields of endeavor — business, higher education, government, athletics, and non-profit work. Within the Wesleyan tradition, writing about church leadership has been going strong for several years. In 1999, Lovett Weems wrote “Leadership in the Wesleyan Spirit,” which examined the leadership traits of John Wesley, Francis Asbury, and other early Methodists. Since then, books on church leadership written by self-conscious Wesleyans have proliferated: William Willimon’s “Calling and Character” (2000), Adam Hamilton’s “Leading Beyond the Walls” (2002), and Kenneth Carder & Laceye Warner’s “Grace to Lead” (2011), just to name a few.

So is there anything we could really identify as Wesleyan Pastoral Leadership? I think we can identify a leadership approach that is distinctively Wesleyan, even if not uniquely so.

Think about this issue from the standpoint of conventional approaches to ethics. Duty ethics is focused on doing the right thing or making right decisions — ethics from the standpoint of rules. Consequentialist ethics emphasizes reaching the right outcome or emphasizing decisions and actions that are focused on achieving the most desirable ends. Virtue ethics shifts the focus away from decisions and outcomes, and toward the person involved in decision-making. This approach is most interested in the character of the decision-maker, believing that the most important factor in good ethical decision-making and action is the person him or herself.

If we look back at the example of John Wesley and the early Methodist movement, we will find some expressions of each of these major ethical approaches. The approach that might leap out at us immediately would be duty ethics. The early Methodists were, after all, great lovers of rules. The General Rules established the baseline expectations for how every Methodist would live within a local society. Wesley himself set down rule guidelines for everything from the regulation of the bands to the expectations of his preachers. All of this evidence might suggest that perhaps Wesleyan understandings of pastoral leadership are most closely related to duty ethics (at least if we tie the Wesleyan tradition to its origins in the 18th century).

There is, however, some reason to consider the place of consequentialist ethics in the early Methodist movement as well. After all, early Methodism was highly adaptable. Many of the institutional structures that developed (the class meeting, the conference, etc.) emerged in the context of the revival as opposed to being planned in advance by anyone. And the reasons for many of the structures coming into being at all were to serve the needs of the revival — such as local society organization, the deployment of preachers, or the needs of the poor. These early Methodists were mostly interested in salvation, understood as the redemption of both bodies and souls. They made all sorts of decisions based on that overriding interest in the end of salvation. So perhaps we should think about Wesleyan leadership as more tied to a consequentialist approach to ethical decision-making and action.

Then there is the approach of virtue ethics. Were Wesley and other early Methodists interested in the subject of character formation?

It turns out that this is very much the case. The formation of virtues within the soul was a topic that John Wesley was deeply interested in. His early sermon, “The Circumcision of the Heart” (1733) is a meditation on the progress of sanctification towards Christian perfection with reference to the virtues of humility, faith, hope, and love. For Wesley, a Christian account of the virtues ultimately becomes a description of sanctification itself.

When he was addressing the preachers under his authority in the Large Minutes, Wesley counseled them to emphasize the kind of habits in their daily lives that would build them up in the right way. Of course, they were to engage in the daily acts of ministry — “preaching and visiting from house to house.” But they were also to take time for spiritual disciplines, as he put it, “in reading, meditation, and prayer.” He understood that a good minister had to be truly good inwardly.

The similarity between the virtues and sanctification becomes especially clear when we grasp the connection between holiness and happiness. Holiness is a synonym for sanctification, which in the Wesleyan sense is seen as that state whereby our character comes to be defined by holy love. Happiness is a virtue concept — it is the eudaimonia of Aristotle, which is best described as that condition whereby human life is flourishing at an optimum level. For Wesley to link the two together — as he does explicitly — is to suggest that we only find true happiness when our lives have become marked by the holy virtues of faith, hope, and love.

There are some evidences of leadership via the approaches of duty ethics and consequentialist ethics in early Methodism. Those approaches were only ever utilized in an ad hoc way, though. What really counted for Wesley and other early Methodists was the formation of character in a leader, and right character can only come about through the kind of disciplined practice that leads to a virtuous life. A sanctified life. For leadership, a rightly formed character is what is truly foundational.

Like all institutions in our culture, the church is in a period of difficult transition. The tendency is to focus our energies on the institution, thinking that if we just get some type of organizational reform right then the church’s health will be restored. The early Methodists would point us in a different direction, though. Wesley once asked his preachers, “Why are we not more holy?” The answer he gave: “Chiefly because we are enthusiasts; looking for the end, without using the means.”

Leadership is a high calling, and it is a difficult calling. Those who are called to lead are also called to submit themselves to the kind of discipline that renders them worthy of being followed. If we want the church to be led well, we must press on in pursuit of those virtues that leadership requires.

Talbot Davis ~ How a Reluctant Mentor Learns to Be an Adequate Leader

Those who know me well know that  I have made confessions like:

I’m better at leading the congregation than I am at leading the staff; or

I’m a disciplined person but not a very disciplined leader; or

I’m better at dealing with one or with 2,000 than I am with twelve.

To a certain extent all those things are true.  I will always more naturally incline towards pastoring and teaching than I will to leading and mentoring.

However, I have recently come to a realization that has helped me enormously in increasing my leadership ability when it comes to both the staff at Good Shepherd and younger clergy in the United Methodist Church.

It’s this:  take what has become second nature to me, put it on paper, and then share it verbally with team members.

Here are a few examples of what I’m talking about:

*I’ve done so many funerals and memorial services through the years that preparing eulogies has become second nature.

*I’ve knocked on enough doors of new movers into our area that the script for Bless This House has become second nature. 

*I’ve had so many counseling sessions with men who are addicted to pornography that sharing with them the steps into recovery has become second nature.

*I’ve followed up with enough first-time guests that the process has become second nature. 

*I’ve even done enough marital counseling that the agenda for a first session with a couple has become, you guessed it, second nature.

And my natural wiring is to store up that second nature information inside me – essentially, to approach ministry like I do a singles match in tennis! 

All that is why through the years, on occasion I have become frustrated with team members or younger clergy who weren’t responding to those same ministry opportunities in ways I thought they should.

But then it hit me:  it’s not second nature to them.  You need to take the time to spell out all those years and all that stuff you have running around in your head and share it with them.

That process, in turn, has become great fun – especially if you have either staff members or younger clergy who have teachable spirits.   

So we’re having some smaller staff meetings that become verbatims (for those of you who remember Clinical Pastoral Education), shoring up counseling abilities.

It’s why we now share much more of the sermon development process.  It’s even why I am learning to take the time to show team members what is involved in the seemingly mundane task of composing hand-written notes to first-time guests.

Because in the big picture, mentoring is about turning what is second nature into a first priority.