Ok. That was not expected.

39 of 42.

I went to bed last night with righteous indignation.

I thought.

My stomach was sick. I couldn’t control my thinking. My mind was pinballing all over the inside of my skull as I played and replayed the events of our days…and the dissonance of the cultural commentary (both verbally and in action) that often accompanies those who carry the image of Christ in their hearts.

It just seems like the task of being God’s ambassadors of peace and healing in an obviously hurting and broken world, continues to be made more difficult by some, even many, claiming to be His people.

They just sound and act so different from how I think Jesus would be, if he were here, in person.

As a matter of fact, one of my deepest frustrations comes from knowing that, according to his promises, he IS here. In person. In the hearts and minds of each of his own. Yeesh.

Why’s he not doing a better job?

Anyway, fueled with my morally and spiritually superior attitude, and determined to wake up this morning and let my keystrokes dole out verbal discipline, in the same manner of Jesus overturning the tables in the temple courtyard, a funny thing happened.

I woke up with the weight of my own miserable failings. Instead of the story of Jesus overturning the tables, my morning music was a different tune. The one where Jesus knelt in the dirt.

You remember it. The story about when the Pharisees (the ones with the morally and spiritually superior attitude) drug the whore into temple courtyard, hoping for Jesus to condemn her the same way they were condemning her.

Talk about turning the tables upside down! After drawing something in the dirt, Jesus spoke words of truth that have moved real disciples to near hyper-ventilation for 2000 years.

“Which ever one of you is without sin, you throw the first stone.”

One by one, each one of the Pharisees (the religious smug) walked away, because at least they had enough self-awareness to know their lives were not without sin. They knew who they were.

Last night, I lost sight of who I am. This morning I remembered.

Pointing out the sins of those who ride righteous high-horses should never be done by one who is also riding a righteous high-horse. I woke up ready to do the very thing I was going to call out others for doing. Whoa. Talk about a contradiction!

I know we are to call out sin. I know we are to be light in darkness. I know we are to warn people of the dangers of the path they are traveling.  But none of us will truly ever be without sin.  All of us are Pharisees of one kind or another.  None of us is “good” enough to pass judgment on another.  And maybe that’s a good thing.

The only way to “cast a stone” (render judgment, throw criticism, project superiority, communicate my way is better than your way, etc…) is by being armed with the awareness that my sin, my weakness, my hypocrisy, my pride, my lack of love, my moral and spiritual superiority, is just as bad as yours.

And that changes everything.  At least it should.

It keeps the playing field level.  It keeps my criticism from ever going overboard.  It keeps my heart from growing hard.  It keeps me from ever thinking I’m better than you.  It keeps humility in the forefront and pride pushed to the rear.  It puts me in a position to be part of the solution, instead of perpetuating another problem.  It communicates grace, love, mercy, and hope…instead of judgment, fear, and exclusion.

It helps tear down walls, instead adding more bricks and more mortar.

Funny.  It’s pretty much impossible to cast stones at Pharisees, without becoming one.

This road I travel. #4

37 of 42. Almost finished.

During the 1970’s and 1980’s, the church growth movement was hitting its stride.  For the uninitiated, the CGM was an organized approach of studying the characteristics of churches that were experiencing noticeable numerical growth…and developing principles that any church could adopt and experience similar growth.

Components such as vision, mission, goals, objectives, programming, budget, hiring practices, leadership and the like, became the staple subjects of study.  Surveys and statistical analysis and marketing and development were the cornerstones of the movement.  The pastor role was redefined by the corporate model.  He was no longer the minister.  He was the CEO.

I studied church growth as a discipline.  I have a master’s degree in it, for crying out loud.  Church growth became both the goal and the method.

And somewhere along the line, I stopped buying what was being sold. At least partially.

The science of church growth says if all of these certain components of church life are aligned properly, growth in numbers should, and most likely will, happen.  And when it doesn’t grow, the assumption is the church has violated (knowingly or unknowingly) one or more of the strategic principles of church growth.

Or could it be that God has designed certain churches to remain smaller for a strategic ministry purpose? It’s just a thought.

The truth is, the way we (North Point) operate as a church family probably has some built-in roadblocks to numerical growth…how we act, who we connect with, how we operate, how we govern, how we structure and program, how we budget.  And the majority of how we choose to function as a church is both intentional and a reflection of the personality and character of our family. It just is.

It’s a subjective judgment, but I think most of people who make up our family are drawn to the lack of structure and the absence of hyper-programming…two of the critical principles of church growth.  If we were to adopt a reach as many as possible – as soon as possible mentality of how we do church (and the systems and methods that generally go along with it), in many ways, we would cease to be who we are.

Many of our people simply don’t live out their faith that way.  If we were to make a shift to the style and structure that demands getting bigger in a hurry as a first priority, we would not only have to do things differently, we would need to be different.

(For the record, I will never waver on my belief that a local church, wherever it is located, should work to reach as many people as possible. If there will be a time in the future when every knee will bow to the Lordship of Jesus, we should joyfully and lovingly join in the mission of taking that message to them.)

At this point in our history, our singular focus, as a church family, is not to reach as many as possible as soon as possible.  We believe numerical growth is certainly part of the overall focus or mission of the church, as a whole, but it is not necessarily the exclusive calling or design of our body.

I believe it is absolutely essential for some expressions of the Body of Christ to function at a smaller level, in order to reach those who cannot or will not connect to the style or personality generally associated with something larger.  And this seems to be happening more and more often across the church landscape.

I believe that North Point (and the myriad of other smaller, flexible, stealthy, unencumbered local church families around the world), are, in fact, partners in the greater mission of reaching as many as possible, just as much as the church that intentionally programs to get big quickly.  And the numbers bear this out.

Look, there are things you can do on a jet ski that you simply can’t do on a luxury yacht, no matter how hard you try!

In spite of what all the “leadership experts” say,  growth is impossible to predict. Sometimes it happens despite our failures.  Sometimes it happens when we aren’t looking and planning for it.  Sometimes it doesn’t happen, even though you’ve followed the playbook, down to every detail.  Maybe it’s just my rebellious attitude or the fact I am a natural skeptic, but I’ll probably always believe church growth is more of a mystery than a science.

This road I travel. #2

35 of 42.

Having grown up in a church tradition that believed it had sole possession of the correct interpretation of all the most important passages of the Bible, I realize I was already starting in a pretty big hole.

I was humbly and politely trained by my church leaders to view all other religions, denominations, cults and independent religious groups with at least a skeptical eye…and some with complete disdain.  Early on, I learned to identify the different faith groups in my community by certain distinctives that were simply wrong:

• The Methodists had women pastors.
• The Lutherans could smoke on their church patio.
• The Baptists made you get re-baptized to be a member of their church.
• The Presbyterians sprinkled babies and called it baptism.
• The Samoan Congregational Church across the street didn’t practice communion.
• The Episcopalians used real wine in their communion.
• The Catholics had nuns and their priests couldn’t get married.
• The Church of God in Christ by my house passed around rattlesnakes in their services.
• The Assembly of God folks spoke in tongues.
• The Seventh Day Adventists only met on Saturdays, not Sundays.
• The local AME Church said God wanted everybody to be wealthy.
• The Church of Christ didn’t use musical instruments.
• The Greek Orthodox had crazy looking pictures of old people everywhere.
• The Jesus People had long hair, torn jeans and were always barefoot.

But WE were the right ones.  Seriously.  My church (and others in our non-denominational club) held tightly to the inspiration and inerrancy and infallibility and the absolute authoritative truth of the Bible.  And we based our beliefs…and assumed our doctrinal and ecclesiastical high horse…on the foundation of God’s Word.  At least our understanding of it.

Looking back, the funny thing about this is every one of those faith groups believed (and still do believe) that THEY were right, also.  And each one of the practices and beliefs that make them distinct are based on their understanding and interpretation of the same Bible we all use.

So here’s where I’ve landed after a lifetime of studying the book and following Jesus:

If I were God, I would have made the book a lot easier to understand.  Good, godly, compassionate, gifted, educated Kingdomworkers have spent centuries studying it and arriving at different conclusions about what God is attempting to communicate.   I don’t think this dilemma will be ending anytime soon.

I’ve grown to accept the “humanness” of the Bible.  It was written by humans…from their perspective…reflecting their  journeys…their emotions (see the Psalms)…their flaws…their unique positions in the flow of history and culture.  I believe they wrote exactly what God intended for them to write, but I don’t believe they wrote robotically.

The Bible doesn’t exist in a vacuum.  Humans read it, study it, interpret it, and apply it.  And we don’t study it in a vacuum, either.  We always bring our preconceptions, our biases, our cultural bents, and our personal stories to the study desk.  We cannot avoid our humanity when we come face to face with scripture.  And I think that’s exactly what God intended.

I still believe in absolute truth.  But I don’t think that any of us can know all of it absolutely.  If we could, I’m not sure faith, as we know it, would be necessary.  Sight, experience, evidence and intellect would be all that was necessary.

I believe my position perches me near a slippery slope.  But I like it here.  I no longer speak, think or act with an attitude of spiritual superiority that comes with believing my interpretation of the Bible is inerrant or infallible.

I am almost always willing to rethink what I have come to believe and entertain that I might be wrong, if posed with credible, humble and thoughtful opposition.  I still believe there is a list of essentials one must affirm to be in right standing with God, but that list is waaaay smaller than it used to be.  I believe this to be the way of grace.

I had a friend say this to me recently and it’s pretty profound:  “In my opinion, God brings us closer to him through study, not interpretation.”

Enough said.  It’s time to study.

This road I travel…

34 of 42. Only seven more.

Now that I’m back from traveling, it’s time to get busy with this new series on changes I’ve experienced in my life that I said I was going to start.

In my younger days, I was taught in both the classroom and through modeling, that following Jesus was pretty much a black and white proposition.  I was told to believe the Bible.  I was taught the Bible was to be my only rule of faith and practice.  I grew up believing the Bible contained the answer to every important life question.

I held on to the notion that the Bible didn’t just contain truth, but that it shared equal stage with Jesus.  When he claimed to be the way, the truth and the life, it was just assumed the words “Jesus” and “the Bible” were pretty much synonymous.

The Bible was the tangible presence of Jesus in the world.  Jesus = truth.  Bible = truth.  My religious heritage taught this phrase:  The Bible says it.  I believe it.  That settles it.  But the older I got, the more I began to see a different picture.  A fuzzier picture.  A more complicated picture.

What I failed to realize in my youth is now something I see clearly.  Whenever a Bible teacher (minister, seminary professor, author, Sunday school teacher, Bible study leader, whatever…) actually teaches the Bible, they are giving their version of the truth.  Their opinion.  Their commentary.  Their spin.  Their bent.  Every time.  All the time.

They might be reflecting their parent’s opinion…or their former preacher’s opinion…or the opinion of the latest theological book or blog they have just read…or the party line of their denomination…or the seminary professor’s insights they gleaned from a few years of sitting at their feet…or years and years of personal study and reflection.

No matter.  Any way you cut it, it’s still personal insight and interpretation.  And ever since the day the Bible began to be mass-produced and put in the hands of people, we have been free to read it and come to our own conclusions.

Does that make everybody’s opinion equally valid?  Of course not.  Should we go with majority rule?  Does any one denomination, theological tradition, or religious heritage have a corner on the truth?  Of course!  Mine does.

I bet you didn’t know I had a better hotline to God than you do?  Yeah.  Right.

Is there really only one “right” interpretation of every passage and teaching in the Bible?  Maybe.  But we will never know which one that is until we meet the truth…er, Jesus…face to face.

I know this creates some sticky questions and the ground I walk on sometimes feels like thin ice.  I’m well aware of all the things I’m sayingwhen I declare my allegiance to a shade of gray, rather than boldly and defiantly demanding my own way and my own interpretation of God’s revealed word be bowed to.

But things have changed for me.  My love for God’s word remains the same.  My commitment to studying it and teaching it the best I can is deeper than it’s ever been.  But I no longer worship a book.

The Bible I possess is not perfect.  Only Jesus is.

Ugh.

32 of 42.

I don’t write as much as I used to, but I still read dozens of blogs every week…for encouragement, as well as staying current with what’s going on in the world.  It’s part of my daily routine.

A lot of what I read has to do with trends in church ministry and organization, written by some of the biggest of the big dogs in church leadership…book authors, consultants, mega pastors, theologians, church growth “experts”, academics.

Anymore, most days I’m growing a little weary of some of the stuff I’m reading.  

Specifically, I’m really getting tired of hearing about what’s wrong with the church I serve.  I’m tired of reading about what needs to get fixed. I’m tired of being told about the five reasons we’re not growing and the seven steps to breaking the 250 barrier and the nine characteristics of successful church leaders.

Unfortunately, these teachings (and so many others like them) assume some things I don’t necessarily believe to be universally true.

They write as if getting bigger is the goal.  I know of no Kingdom-centered person who denies the priority of spreading the message of hope in Jesus to as many people as possible.  I share a common understanding and commitment to introducing Jesus to the nations. However, I just don’t believe following that mandate and growing large churches means the same thing.

They write as if getting bigger is better.  No model of church size, style, organization, or practice is perfect, or even preferable.  Some people are drawn to crowds. Some people are repelled by them. Both of those groups should be affirmed and encouraged.  Sadly, in our modern church world, only one of those groups is treated with dignity and respect. The other is consistently devalued.  Sometimes blatantly.  Sometimes with subtlety.  Sometimes with a condescending “pat on the head”…

They write as if growth can be reduced to a formula.  My master’s degree is in church growth.  I studied under some of the premier teachers of this school of thought and practice.  I was taught the practices of successful, growing churches could be imitated and that, in time, our growth would be also.  Today, this teaching has been re-packaged  and sold at dozens of yearly church leadership conferences around the country (plus cool bands) for a tidy $2k a pop… or marketed online to small church leaders for a mere $249.  Sheesh.  What kind of small church has that kind of dough laying around?  We’ve got toilets to unplug and signs to fix.  I haven’t believed what I was taught about church growth in graduate school for decades.  Don’t tell anybody.

They write as if everybody would want to be part of a megachurch.  The truth is, everybody doesn’t want to be part of a megachurch.  I am part of a church family full of people who prefer to worship, study, and serve in a smaller environment.  Their reasons for being drawn to smaller are as diverse as those who are drawn to large crowds. And their reasons can be just as godly, just as purposeful (or missional, if you’re hip), just as healthy, and just as valid, as reasons that draw others to something big.  Both have equal value. Both are needed. I’m just growing weary of the self-promoting of big, at the expense of the continual disrespecting of smaller, just because big has a larger platform.

They write as if they know my church family.  Even though these writers and promoters and conference creators are really, really smart, they are unfamiliar with the flow and character of my church family.  They don’t know what makes us tick. They don’t fully understand why many tried the megachurch and found it lacking.  It seems like they don’t understand how this can feel like “home” to many.  They make unfounded assumptions that there is something inherently flawed in a smaller church and, therefore, something flawed with somebody who would choose smaller over bigger.  It’s reflected in the way they write and speak. Although I don’t think it reflects their true heart and motive, I’m still offended by their judgment. I feel like I want to take some of them behind the woodshed…

They write as if my leadership giftedness and philosophy of ministry is deficient.  If I would just follow their “best practices”.  If only I would let them identify my leadership weaknesses.  If only I would ruthlessly evaluate my ministry strategy and organizational structure and adopt their recommendations…I, too, could become a large church…or maybe even a megachurch…pastor.  Well, they are making some assumptions about me, about my experience, about my education and preparation for ministry, about my theology, and about my character that are untrue and unfair. I am not deficient.  My worth as a pastor has never been nor will it ever be connected to expansion.

I could probably go on, but I’ll stop.  These are not sour grapes. This is not the rant of a pastor who fell short and is deflecting.  It’s simply my reality. I served for years in the megachurch world. I know it well. I’ve served in the smaller church world for years.  I know it well, also. Both can be unhealthy. Both can be effective. Both can connect with people the other can’t.

It’s time both got equally affirmed.  

There.  I think I feel better now.

Such is life.

31 of 42.

Well, it’s been almost a month.  In terms of time, energy, focus, priorities, accomplishing tasks, and keeping perspective…let’s just say the holidays won.

Honestly, I tried to write a few times, but it just wasn’t there.  Tonight, it is.

When I get to the end of the day, I want the people I love to believe what I believe. I want the people I love to have what I have.  Not everything.  Just the important stuff.

This isn’t an arrogance or some kind of superiority complex.  It’s not me thinking I know better than everyone else.  It’s not me thinking I’m right and others are wrong.  It’s something much deeper…and much simpler than that.

Most every parent knows when the kids are young, you have huge influence over the way your kids think and believe and act.  They trust you.  You can speak truth into their lives.  You pass on your values.  You give them a vision for faith.  You can shape their reality.  You play the single most significant role in helping them build the foundation the rest of their lives will be built on.  Your beliefs are breathed into their little hearts and they lovingly welcome all of it.

And then they grow up.  Everybody grows up.

Btw…I am constantly working at finding a comfort zone with my Boomer status: Am I full of wisdom and sage advice…or am I out of touch and irrelevant? Am I Yoda or punch-drunk Rocky? I digress…

Back to children. Those little, trusting, moldable, sponges become their own people.  They begin to make their own decisions and carve out their own belief system.  They decide for themselves what is important, what is true, what is worth investing in.  And they become what you had always hoped they would be:  independent thinkers.

It’s true for all of us.  But I don’t have to like it.

I see people all around me who are struggling. Certainly not all, but many. Maybe you? Some who are part of my church family. Many others who are not. Some who are close…others who I simply try to walk with. Maybe not with all of these things, but some:

• They are angry.
• They are afraid.
• They are sad.
• They feel trapped.
• They are worried.
• They never have enough.
• Their marriages are on shaky ground.
• They ignore the spiritual.
• They run from intimacy.
• They struggle for control.
• They have massive blind spots.
• They are self-centered.
• Their love is conditional.
• They are depressed, addicted, abused, or forgotten.
• They don’t respect those who have walked the path before them.
• They don’t pursue wisdom.
• They don’t give sacrificially.
• They always think they know best.
• There is no true humility.
• There is no real joy.
• They don’t experience prolonged peace.
• They live for the moment.
• Their self esteem is built on performance.
• Their security is in the tangible.
• They follow their hearts.
• They seek validation from friends.
• They exist for happiness.
• Their faith is personally defined.
• Their authority is their own conscience.
• Their motivation is their own feelings.

I know a better way.  I really do.  I wish I could make them follow it.  I wish I could make them believe it.  I wish I could make them want it.

But I can’t.

My thoughts exactly.

29 of 42.

(October 10, 2009. We are still chasing our tails 15 years later…)

Every now and then, I read an article or hear a sermon that reflects what I’m thinking or feeling at that moment.  that happened last night.  Track with me for a few seconds…

You know that I have had a love-hate affair with Sunday mornings most of my adult life.  On the one hand, I wish our building was full to the brim every Sunday…full of people worshipping the greatness of God, investing their lives in each other, serving children, welcoming new folks, filled with the spirit, and being inspired to live dangerous lives for Christ.

On the other hand, I believe with my whole heart, that what the church is and does on Monday through Saturday is infinitely more important than what we do at our club meeting on Sundays.

So where’s the truth?

In spite of the megachurches that dot our landscape (here and around the country),  studies show us an alarming trend: church attendance in America is in serious decline.  People are walking away or simply avoiding church in mass.  Conservative estimates say that less than 18% of Americans attend church services on any given Sunday…and it is declining more and more every year.

As much as I would love for us to have more people coming to our building on Sunday mornings, I think we are missing the point.  The question is not, “How can we get a bigger attendance on Sundays”, but something entirely different. As the author of the article says:

The question we need to be asking is, “How can church become indispensable to a community?”  People don’t come to church because church isn’t essential to their lives.  Church is a take-it-or-leave-it experience, and most are leaving it.

Have you ever heard this question:

“If your church closed tomorrow, would anybody notice?  At least anybody outside the group of people that come to your Sunday morning meeting?”

Well, if the statistics are to be believed, over 80% of Americans give a loud and unqualified “no!”

I want to be part of a church family that is defined by what it does during the week, not by what it looks like on Sunday mornings.  I want to be part of a church family that touches more people Monday through Saturday than walk into the building for the weekly meeting.

I want to be part of a church family that really hears what people say about the church…about our hypocrisy…about our judgment.  I want to know why people…80% of the population…see the church as irrelevant and not worth their time.  I want to know why. I want to listen and learn…and be part of a church that responds to criticism in healthy and sensitive ways.

And by the way…if you’re part of the team, exercise your freedom to be somewhere else on Sunday mornings judiciously.  We’re better and stronger when you’re here.  And you’re better and stronger, also.

Truly, I was just thinking…

28 of 42.

Here’s what i’m thinking this morning, for what it’s worth…

Almost twenty years ago, I came to a rather severe crisis in my faith.  Not the kind that doubted the existence of God or some mysterious urge to walk away from the church.  It was a crisis unique to my occupation.

I have been employed by the church, doing church work pretty much my entire adult life.  OOOOh, I’ve had other jobs along the way…coaching, teaching, construction, janitorial, laying tile…but for the most part, I have received my paychecks based on what went in to the offering plate each week.

When I was 35, Wanda and I raised our missionary support and I went to work for Amor Ministries, taking hundreds of kids and adults into Mexico on short-term service trips to build homes for the poor. On the side, we were part of a small group of people that planted a church in a poor, multi-cultural community in East San Diego, near our home.

For the the first time since I was 25, I went to church services on Sundays just like everyone else…because I wanted to.  In the  early days of our church, I really began to question whether I did my “church work” the previous ten years because I was paid to…or because I really wanted to.

It was an incredible, eye-opening, heart-softening five years of my life as God taught me about motivation and serving and relationships based on the concept of sharing life as a family…and began weening me off of my remaining pious attitudes of spiritual superiority because of my “position”.

I became free to set up tables and chairs before the service and play my guitar and open my home to friends and read my bible and work in the community or visit people in the hospital simply because I was a follower of Christ and part of a church family…not because it was my job or because people expected me to.  It was absolute freedom.

When we moved to Texas 15 years ago (now 30 years ago), I made a vow to God that even though I was going to continue to receive my income by being a full-time church program director, Bible teacher and sheep-herder, I would never again do it because I was paid to.  I would never do it simply because it was my job.  I would never do it from a position of spiritual superiority or some advanced calling or because I thought I was any different than anybody else who called themself a follower of Christ.

I know in my heart I am not the holy man of God, God’s Anointed, or even El Jefe…the bossman of the church. l remind myself daily that I’m just a dude trying to serve others the best I know how.

I am humbled beyond words that people still put money in the offering plate each Sunday and because of that, I get to live and work where I do and I get to serve the Kingdom the way God has wired me to do it.

Even though my job and calling may be different than yours, our battle is the same:  to serve and give and live our lives with integrity and healthy motives…clean hands and pure hearts.

So let’s get busy.

Permanently scarred…

25 of 42

I was 30 years old and was deeply entrenched as the youth minister of our church family in Huntington Beach.

Honestly, there’s not enough space on this blog…nor do I have the time or emotional energy…to write about everything I learned and all the ways I was shaped and molded by my years in HB.  I am totally indebted to so many people for believing in me as a young man and challenging me and partnering with me to do kingdom work there for a long time.

I hope that any of my criticisms of those years are always equally balanced by expressions of gratitude and amazement for all the good that was experienced.  With that said…

Near the end of my fifth year, the church had just moved into our new ediface…a multi-million dollar building that would house our corporate worship services and, sometime in the future, large events in an incomplete lower level.  We were heavily financed, falling seriously short of making our regular mortgage payments, and experiencing an enormous financial crisis as a church family.

The leadership of the church decided the best course of action was to hire a stewardship development organization to help us raise capital funds…in a hurry.  There was a realistic fear that the creditors would seize our building and lock us out!  Something had to happen.

The capital campaign that was chosen was one built on the idea that church family members would only give above and beyond their regular offerings if they saw the staff and church leadership setting the example.

Here’s what that meant: the staff (which definitely included me!) was told if we didn’t substantially increase our financial giving, we would be fired.  If we didn’t give more money to the building program, it would be an obvious vote of “no confidence” in the leadership and direction of our church family.

The bottom line?  My job was in serious jeopardy.

Wanda and I had always given our weekly offering…faithfully and sacrificially.  We had both learned at a young age, to give 10 percent of our income as an act of worship and an expression of our shared ownership of church family life.  At that point in our lives, we were also giving another percentage of our income to various other ministries and missionaries we knew and believed in.

(We have never viewed this as something heroic or praiseworthy. We are simply products of those who invested in our lives and taught us to be good stewards. Without people modeling the practice and teaching us God would always be faithful to meet our needs, I’m not sure we would have figured this out on our own.)

We didn’t make a great deal of money (maybe $28k, combined), but not giving was never an option.  It was (and still is) simply how we are wired, how we understand being part of a church family, and how we understand the meaning of being a follower of Christ.

But we had made the decision we were not going to give any more money to the building program.  We just couldn’t do it.  We were more than willing to do our part and figure out how to give more money away…as a show of our support and commitment to Christ.  But we had drawn a line.  We just didn’t feel that giving more money to the building project was prudent.  Not while there were so many other “people needs” being overlooked, both in our church family and beyond.

I informed my beloved senior pastor of our decision.  He tried to reason with me, but we had prayerfully made up our minds.  So we waited for the day each staff member would have to meet with a group from the stewardship organization and our leadership team… to inform them of the amount we were going to increase our giving.

I was prepared for that to be my last day. My heart was broken. These were people I had grown to love. These were the kids I felt God had led me to shepherd and ministry partners who had become our tribe.

All I know, is that while I was waiting in the office lobby (outside the room where the dreaded meetings were taking place), my senior pastor walked out, patted me on my knee, and told me I didn’t have to meet with them.  He told me he had “handled it”.  

I was the only staff member that didn’t have to meet with them…and the only one who didn’t have to give more money to the building. I never knew exactly what had transpired behind those closed doors, but I always suspected my senior pastor had “paid my share”. I never asked. He never told.

The church went on to struggle financially for another decade, until new leadership came in and steered the church in a brand new course.  By that time, our senior pastor had passed away and the Farra family was a distant memory to the church in HB.

I will forever be indebted to the courage my senior pastor took to protect my job…at great peril to his own.  He was an amazing man.

And my attitude to church financial campaigns to build new facilities would be permanently scarred and would never fully recover.

Oh, well…

Pastor-types and non-pastor-types…

I have a message to give to pastors…senior pastors…youth pastors…children’s pastors…music pastors…whoever.

To you that aren’t church pastor-types, you get to listen in today, because this is about you, too.

And its Number 23 of 42, in case you’re counting.

You pastor-types have this tendency to get really frustrated with non-pastor-types, when the non-pastor-types don’t get as excited about our programs and our ministries and our agendas as we do.

You pastor-types make demands on non-pastor-types that require time and energy and money and sacrifice and re-prioritizing of personal lives.  You pastor-types call meetings and work days and classes and studies and then demand that people submit themselves to these requirements.  And show up and show their support.

You pastor-types work during the week to prepare programs for people to come to.  I know I do. You pastor-types will try to tell the non-pastor-types that the program is good for their spiritual growth…or for the good of the kingdom.   I know I do. And pastor-types sit around with each other and whine that their precious programs are not well-attended. *head hangs in shame*

Well…to you pastor-types, I have this to say to you:  You need to get over yourself and get a clue.

Tonight, there were a bunch of us that worked on our Holiday at the Hall float.  Good-hearted people who had already put in 10-hour work days…ate fast food dinners…said “no” to recliners and peaceful nights at home.  I’m humbled by their sacrifice.

I’m not saying this to guilt others into doing the same.  Far from it.

What I want to say goes out to the pastor-types.

We pastor-types have the luxury of planning our days…sometimes our 10-hour workdays…plus the additional three hours of our program or work project…around our own schedule. We have flexibility to adjust our schedules the day before or the day after, to accommodate program demands.  Non-pastor types don’t.  They just need to get up the next morning and go to work at 7:00am…like they do every day.

We pastor-types need to better understand the lives that our people live…and stop being put out or frustrated that people struggle to make it to the programs we lead.  We need to put ourselves in the shoes of people who work all day and just need to get home to be with their families.  We need to put ourselves in the shoes of people who can’t see ways to live up to our expectations of them.

We pastor-types need to have way more patience and sympathy and compassion on our folks who have bills to pay and children to raise and houses to fix and cars that break down and dinners to cook and lawns to mow and conversations to have and sleep to catch up on…

…and we need to deeply, deeply appreciate it when people are able to carve out time to join the programs and projects we are in charge of.

To all who have had the time to help…you are great examples to me.

And to all who have had schedule demands that required your attention in other places…grace to you!