The Spiritual Wanderings of a Famous Author

I went to see Les Misérables a few days ago. Amazing Film. And in the interest of full disclosure, I unashamedly cried like my three-year-old in several places throughout the film.

There’s a story about Victor Hugo that few people know. I stumbled across it  a few years ago and I couldn’t help thinking about it as I watched the film. Hugo grew up as the son of an atheist father and a devout Catholic mother. Initially, he found spiritual meaning in the Catholic Church but over time he found himself wandering into the “spiritual but not religious” movement of that day: Mesmerism. People who embraced Mesmerism were looking for some of the same “buzzwords” you might hear today: holism, spiritual encounter, empowerment, connection and, above all, meaning.

Steeped in political activism, Hugo was exiled to the Channel Islands in the early 1850s where he penned some of his most famous works, including Les Misérables. But also while there, he continued to grieve over the death of his only daughter, Léopoldine, some ten years earlier. Though Hugo was technically a rationalist on paper, he saw Mesmerism as a way to make contact with his own dear “Cosette.” So using a Mesmerist trance medium, he reached out to his daughter in the afterlife. There are records of Hugo’s séances.  They cite him pitifully pleading with his deceased daughter saying,

“Do you see the suffering of those who love you?”

It’s interesting to me that when Hugo reached for spiritual and emotional comfort, he did not embrace the formal religion of his youth. Rather, he sought contact with the spirit world through alternative spirituality. Someone who might be hailed as the political conscience of a entire country – like Hugo was – was really just like everyone else. He was simply a human trying to make sense of the world around him in the midst of tragedy and loss. He was simply someone willing to take risks to find a way to connect with God when more conventional means of religiosity had failed him time and again.

There’s a line in the song Red and Black that lodged in my memory as I watched the film the other day. As a political rebel fighting for a cause, Enjorlas chides the love-sick Marius, “But now there is a higher call. Who cares about your lonely soul?” But personally, Hugo was staging his own inner spiritual revolt on the Channel Islands while writing Les Misérables. And the question follows, is there really any higher call than each person’s desire to connect with God? Maybe the result of Hugo’s spiritual quest was unconventional. But we must admire someone who is willing to continue to look for something beyond what he could see.

My New Year’s Resolution

I like older people. Much of the time, they are content with where they are and they have an ease about them that makes one drop their defenses quickly. They don’t smirk either…they give you big, wide smiles, savoring them while they share a moment of laughter. They also have incredible B.S. detectors that can be set off at a moment’s notice. Don’t mess with them – they will call your bluff. Older people often have a simple wisdom that can be applied to most any complex situation in life. But most are not begging to give advice to others – they are simply content to live with what life has already taught them and we are presently learning.

I love watching parents turn into grandparents and the slow but steady shift in perspective this creates. Much of the responsibility (and headache) of parenting is gone and all that remains is a simple joy in providing unconditional love to a young child. And, with it, an unending supply of sentimentality and nostalgia. For grandparents, it’s amazing how quickly their nostalgia “filter’ can find and resting place over the most difficult of family situations. Sometimes I wonder if they see life through the warm and glowing lens of Hallmark Channel camera.

We have not had the easiest year. Life threw the kitchen sink at us. And in the past year I have not savored the love and liveliness of a beautiful wife and four children. I haven’t been a “bad” father or husband. I simply realize that there have been times when I was distracted by less important things. And that has caused me to live life somewhere other than in the immediate present.

I don’t normally do the New Year’s resolution thing. But I’m making an important one this year. My resolution this coming year is to live life with the sentimentality and nostalgia of someone double my age. It’s to imagine the fondness with which I will remember these very moments much later in life and transport that same fondness into the present. To revisit memories that, though they seemed bleak at the time, turned out to be powerful moments of grace in my life. And I’m not waiting until the New Year to make the change. There are many chances for “old” Sam to influence “young” Sam’s worldview in the next two weeks. Hopefully, my New Year’s “exercise” will turn into a lifelong habit. Feel free to try it with me.

More Paradigm Shifts

I went to church this past Sunday at a church where nobody knew me. Just as a visitor…no responsibilities or others looking to me for an answer.

It was really nice.

You notice different things when you’re just one of the people in the congregation. I suppose I was like most folks in the fact that I wanted only a few things out of the service. I wanted to laugh one good time, find something in the sermon that meant something to me personally, and I wanted my children to have a good time. That was it. Yep, I was that guy – the guy ministers complain about all the time: the consumer. But I noticed something by the end of the service. The pastor was trying so hard. I felt bad for him. I’ve tried that hard before. It sucks.

I see arena-style church services everywhere I go. But never before have I been so disillusioned with them. These are the ones where the guy or girl gets up in front of everyone. They all face the same direction and watch Pro Presenter backgrounds. Everyone is trying so hard to engage a lethargic group of people.  I’m personally in a the midst of a radically changing paradigm.  Much of the professional church world is consumed with its own progress. And that progress is most often tied to “nickels and noses.” Money and attendance. In fact, the success touted by many churches over Easter weekend had to do with attendance rather than heart change.

As a minister, I think I’m pretty much done with that game. I have two new goals now. One has to with my job as a minister and on has to do with those to whom I am serving. My new job description is this: to partner with what God is already doing rather than “starting” something that others will find appealing. Honestly I’m just too tired to do that any longer. And for people, my goal is to help them realize what God thinks of them and assist them in doing the ”greater works” that Jesus talked about. It’s not to get them to sit down and listen to me. It’s to help them listen to God. I can’t help anyone anyway.

I’m not sure where that is going to lead me. But I plan to enjoy the journey.

What Christians Can Learn from PostSecret

I have a few rituals in my life that I do religiously. Read the PostSecret website is one of them. Every Sunday morning…without fail. PostSecret is a project that was started several years ago by a guy named Frank. Here’s the gist: people anonymously mail in their most secret confessions on a post card and Frank posts them to his website. You may think you have a good grasp on people’s inner thoughts and motivations. But until you’ve read PostSecret, you really don’t have a clue.

The confessions on those postcards are raw, unfiltered, and outrageous. But more importantly they are an actual representation of what goes on in the human mind. I know many Christians that see the “depraved”  types of confession that litter that site as examples of lost souls pinning away for something more. I don’t. I think they are beautifully authentic. In fact, Christians could learn something about their own faith from them.

Occasionally, the confessions listed are actions of the past. But most of the PostSecret confessions are confessions of the heart. Here are a few examples:

I’m terrified of being a parent. I don’t think I could handle it if my kids make the mistakes my friends and I have made. 

Every time I see your Christmas lights, it makes me want to punch you in the face. 

I travel so much because  know I won’t kill myself if I’ve already paid for the trip.

Being a slut makes me feel strong.

They are all secrets of inner fears, motivations, and desires. Christians should take notes.

In the church world, confession occurs when someone is willing to admit a past mistake or failure….and that usually only happens when someone gets caught. But PostSecret actually represents a more biblical form of confession reflected in James 5:16 says “confess your faults to each other and pray for each other so that you can be healed.” Confession is not about getting caught. It’s not even about accountability. It’s about honesty and vulnerability. Personality flaws, skewed motives, and prejudices…right out there in the open – before God and everybody else.

Anyone can say, “In the past, I committed adultery. I committed fraud. I committed acts of violence.” But the Christians who actually have traction with those around them are the ones that confess what is truly in their heart in the middle of their struggle:

I am a Christian.

I am also a notorious liar.

I go to church only for the business contacts I can make there.

I gain great satisfaction from watching coworkers fail.

I hate my spouse but I’m scared to divorce him/her because my Bible study group will shun me.

I want other people’s money.

I love porn. I will always love porn.

I’m afraid of God though the pastor tells me I shouldn’t be.

My children annoy me constantly. I look for ways to avoid them.

This is real life. This is Christianity: not “confessions” of triumph but accurate confessions of broken people who are on a journey towards wholeness. May God give us the courage to share our own “PostSecrets.”

Lent for Everyone Else

Lent has a rich and storied tradition in the church – forty days of self-denial, reflection, and prayer. I must confess that I have not been overly enamored with Lent. There’s a good reason for this – Lent became something else for me to do. Some other rule to keep among a host of others. I gave up rule-based Christianity for a heart-based version about eight years ago. In doing that, my relationship with God improved drastically and I became a tolerable individual. Plus, it keeps my heart-rate down. Now, I run away screaming from anything that resembles legalism in the slightest.

 

Lent for most folks today is a second chance at recouping the losses of New Year’s Day resolutions…only this time, there’s a little divine intervention. Others opt for silly self-denials – caffeine, sugar, candy. If we refuse to stress out over Lenten commitments we often end up trivializing them. Neither does anything for the soul. What’s more, I understand the importance of fasting, but am put off by people gearing up to fast for a specific period of time for no good reason. Once God began to show me the importatnce of living a “fasted” life, my need for a calendar date to start a fast went out the window…and with it, the relevance of Lent.

But (as is often the case) I’m wrong. Not for decrying triviality or legalism, but for not approaching Lent in a different way. Lent is important when it promotes serious reflection, healthy spirituality, and improves relationships. Okay. Great. But how? Well, this is what I’ve come up with. You’re welcome to adapt it as you see fit. Rather than giving up sweets or sodas, I try to “fast” things that will improve my quality of Christianity. Here are two examples.

First, I have fasted people for Lent before. Rather I should say that I fast a person’s influence over me. Let me explain. We all have people in our lives that irritate us or get under our skin – classmates, co-workers, relatives, even our friends. I don’t fast their presence in my life – they are gonna be around me anyway. But I do fast their control over my emotions and ability to wreck my mood. I fast those sleepless nights where I continually play a conversation I had with them while thinking up extremely clever comebacks to say. I figured out that when I do those things I am giving that person extreme control over my thought life that would be better used for something that actually matters. So I “fast” that person for 40 days. It’s absolutely liberating.

Another example: I have fasted expectations I have for another person for 40 days. Often times, my disappointment with another has to do with what I believe they should be willing to do rather than what they actually are doing. Of course, this can be a problem in marriages, but it applies to all the same people groups I mentioned above as well. Most times our anger towards others involves a big, fat SHOULD: how we believe others should behave rather than allowing them the liberty to live their own lives as they please. So, I will locate an individual upon whom I have placed unrealistic expectations – a spouse, child, co-worker, church leader – and I’ll completely relax any expectations of them for those 40 days. Of course, I don’t tell them, but I do notice that our relationship improves dramatically simply because they can feel that freedom in our relationship. The great thing is that after the 40 days, the relationship is usually going so much better that I continue that relaxed state. Truthfully, God means for our relationships to be that way all the time – Lent is just a way to jump start that process.

Be creative with Lent this year. Forget the cokes and candy. If used correctly, Lent can be a liberating way to create new avenues of spiritual health in our lives.

Two Kinds of People

“There are two types of people in this world: those who divide the world into two types of people and those who don’t.”

Corny. But funny.

Been thinking about people a lot lately. Some days I feel like I have a good grasp on the basic motivations of those I meet. Other days I walk away from someone thinking, “Did that really happen? Holy cow.” Sometimes the only way you know someone’s motives is to directly benefit or be ruined by them. Then you know.

I do believe there are two very common types of people in this world. The first type is the person you meet and immediately dislike, dismiss, or disregard. And then, over time, you figure out you completely misread them, their intentions, and their competency. Oops. Eventually, those people become the most trustworthy, loyal, and wise people you know.

The other type is the person you immediately like, respect, and value. And then, over time, you figure out that you have completely misread them, their intentions, and their competency. Oops. Eventually, those people cause you much grief, misunderstanding, and represent much of what you believe is wrong with the human race.

Here’s the problem. There are only two constants in both of these scenarios: you and a good long stretch of time. This may be up for debate, but I believe we should always give people the benefit of the doubt. I could also tell you to follow you intuition. But from what I can tell, the only way to distinguish the first type of person from the second is to interact with them for a significant period of time.

 

Luckily, Jesus gives us some insight into this in the parable of the wheat and weeds. Now, most scholars will point you to an schmaltzy end-times/judgment scenario with this. And that is accurate. But I also think there’s more to the story. Simply put, there are “weeds” that grow alongside “wheat.” And it’s no accident that the farmer tells that rookie laborer to sit back and let them grow. Here’s why – the “weed” Jesus is speaking about is called Darnel. It will make you seriously sick if harvested and processed into flour. Oh yeah – and it looks just like wheat. But the only way to tell it apart from the real thing is to wait until they are fully formed. Then the head of the wheat stalk tips over at harvest time. Then separating the two types becomes simple.

Same with those we meet. Reserve judgment. Most of us have been both “types” of people. I have. Treat everyone the same regardless of how you much you believe they belong in category 1 or category 2. Otherwise, you might harvest the wrong crop.

Pay Me What You Owe Me: The End of a “Profession”

I had a watershed moment this past week.

I attended a conference with a number of church planters from around the world. I’m not talking about our average “safe” conference where everybody flashes a lanyard to get in and sits around citing demographical research and discusses the latest Zondervan book. I have been to those and find them helpful. But this was different. These people were planting churches where no statistical data is available, if you get my drift. These people were hardcore. They were extremely kind and accommodating to me. But it became pretty clear that I was sitting with a class of minister far above my own.

One story struck me in particular. A guy had been making advances into a country for several years. Now, when I say that, I’m not saying that he’s got a 500 member congregation and health benefits. We’re talking about four converts in three years. That kind of thing. Hardcore. He was giving praise that someone in that group had invited him to visit again and was going to pay for his travel costs.

Here’s where it gets radical. I said, “Isn’t that a standard arrangement? How else would you get there?”  He said, “No. Normally I have to pay them to have the opportunity to witness to them. That’s why it’s a miracle.” Read that again. He has to pay them.

We send speakers and ministers around the world at our own expense. After all, motivational  speakers and ministers are worth the money right?  In the U.S? Yes. Elsewhere? Nope. In the U.S., the people who are paying are already Christians and deeply entrenched in that consumer paradigm. Outside of that paradigm, no one else gives a rip. A flying rip.

Don’t call me a doomsday prophet just yet, but I believe this is on the horizon in all Westernized nations as well. Many would say it’s already here. Presently, I would venture to say that roughly anywhere between 10-20% of any U.S. city has contact with Christianity and that number is decreasing every day. As it decreases, any prestige associated with the “profession” of ministry will eventually collapse. It’s status as a reputable and viable occupation will cease and (as in other nations) it may bring scorn upon those who embrace it.

Then something else will happen. People will have a choice: they will either wait for someone to fund them or they will spend their own money to share Christianity with others. Right now, ministers and church planters still think someone else needs to pay for their services. But ministers of the future will no longer ask for funding for themselves and their families. They will ask for funding so they can “pay” someone else to listen to the Gospel.

Do you think that’s a radical idea? Let me know what you think.

Goodbye First Methodist

My time at First Methodist has come to an end. I packed up my office this week during off hours. I brought two highly skilled individuals to help the moving process.

The most difficult part of that process was finding a place to store 500 books. Fortunately, a good friend had a vacant room in their home and let me stack boxes of obscure monographs there. I learned a tremendous amount at First Methodist – much about leadership, people and their spiritual desires, and (above all) about myself. I was afforded opportunities there that I otherwise would never have been given. I had moments of success, failure, and everything in between…all in three and a half years.

Over the last two years, I encountered some specific struggles in ministry I had not experienced up until that point. Some I handled well. Others not so much. I learned a lot about myself in that process. I also learned a very important lesson: some situations have nothing to do with me whether I’m personally affected by them or not. I found my ability to correct those situations is limited. I’m sure I’ll reflect on my time there over the next several years. I am extremely thankful for that time. I’ll take the lessons I learned there into future ministry. I imagine some day I’ll be having coffee with a church staff member or another pastor and I’ll hear myself say the words, “When I was at First Methodist…”

Over the last three years, I began to collect sayings and tape them to my computer monitor…tacky, but necessary. Some days I followed them to the letter. Other days I failed to follow them at all. I thought I’d share them with you. You might find it interesting that there is not a single Bible verse listed. Nor is there a well-known theologian quoted. Maybe they will mean something to you, too. If so, why not tape them to your computer monitor?

Hereafter, if you should observe on occasion to give your officers and friends a little more praise than is their Due, and confess more fault than you can justly be charged with, you will only become the better for it. Criticising and censuring almost every one you have to do with, will diminish friends, encrease Enemies, and thereby hurt your affairs.                                                                                                 -  Benjamin Franklin to John Paul Jones, July 5, 1780

The greatest need of my congregation is my own personal holiness.                                                                                                             –  Robert Murray M’Cheyne

Most unsolicited feedback is for the sender.                                                                                                                                                 – Harvard Business Review Article

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.                                                                                                                                 – Plato of Athens (apocryphal)

In the end, everything will be okay. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.                                                                                                               – Playwright Carolyn Myers

Refusing to Grow Up

Childhood is fun. Of course, when we are children, we think that there is some greater significance in being an adult. Then we become adults…and we become nostalgic for our childhood days, friends, and activities. The truth is that growing up sucks big time. No one tells you why being an adult is so difficult. But at the risk of sounding simplistic I see one big difference between adulthood and childhood: a well-honed ability to conceal our deeper emotions and hide our true selves. Getting to this state is a grueling process. We slam our fingers in the emotional “doors” of life at home, school, work and church until we figure out that it’s not safe to be emotionally available to others…or at least not on a deep level. Girls become superficial and guys become “commitmentphobic.” And then we make a big life decision. Not the big ones you are thinking of though this one impacts all the others. We decide to share only 10% of who we are with others. Why only 10%? Because those are the only parts of us we can control in public. And the other 90% turns into anxiety, concealed rage, depression, and addiction.

Depressing, huh? Yep.

God never designed us to live this way. He thinks you’re okay. But part of adulthood is conceding to the fact that others don’t think you are. They criticize, judge, and manipulate to prove this to you. Sadly, Jesus bled out on a cross to show you the exact opposite. Could that be true? It’s a risk to believe something so radical. I came across this quote in Dallas Willard’s book, The Divine Conspiracy. He describes mature spirituality in a way that seems foreign to what we encounter daily:

Interestingly, ‘growing up’ is largely a matter of learning to hide our spirit behind our face, eyes, and language so that we can evade and manage to achieve what we want and avoid what we fear.  By contrast, the child’s face is a constant epiphany because it doesn’t yet know how to do this.  It cannot manage its face.  This is also true of adults in moments of great feeling–which is one reason why feeling is both greatly treasured and greatly feared.  Those who have attained considerable spiritual stature are frequently noted for their ‘childlikeness.’  What this really means is that they do not use their face and body to hide their spiritual reality.  In their body they are genuinely present to those around them.  That is a great spiritual attainment or gift.”

There’s no need to be afraid of who we truly are. If you haven’t made a New Year’s Resolution yet, here’s one to consider. Refuse to grow up. Refuse to hide the best of who you are from others. Be childlike…so much so that your emotional and spiritual states shine through your body and facial expressions. Say “no thanks” to intimidation, social pressure, and shame…and just be you.

Six Months of Soul, Part 3

Here’s the final thing I’ve been thinking about over the past six months: being invincible vs. being wounded. This one requires a bit of explaining.

When Beth and I decided to take the risk of planting a church from the ground up, I did some serious research. Besides investigating church planting associations, I plowed through 12 books and manuals on the “methods” of church planting that exist today. I have been a part of two other start-ups (one independent and one SBC), but I still felt I needed some more background info on the whole process.

In one of these books, the author wrote a chapter on why someone shouldn’t start a church. He spent the entire chapter talking about the dangers of starting a church when you have deep wounds from churches – whether it be betrayal or conflict or misunderstanding. Then the author said that the church planter must have a sense of “invincibility” in order to succeed. People find hope in a leader that shows no signs of weakness or past failure. This upset me. In order to appear invincible, I’d have to pretend. I have been a failure. I have been misunderstood. I am awkward. I am full of weaknesses. If anything, much of what I know about the church I hope to build is what I don’t want it to be like. I began to doubt my ability to start something new.

After those books, I started a round of books that deal with grace in some fashion. I picked up Henri Nouwen’s Wounded Healer. I thought Nouwen would be talking about God as the wounded healer. But by page two, I had figured out he wasn’t. He was talking about the pastor as a “wounded healer.” Nouwen says that ministers are only effective when they have been significantly wounded. Otherwise, their words of sympathy and prayers for wisdom sound like trite TV ads rather than deep, meaningful connection. He says the best ministers are those who minister out of their past and present wounds.

Jesus did that. John 16:32-33 says that he was abandoned by those who would follow people who seemed more “promising.”

But the time is coming—indeed it’s here now—when you will be scattered, each one going his own way, leaving me alone. Yet I am not alone because the Father is with me. I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.”

I suppose I could project an image that I have things together. And that would attract some people to a new church. I’m planting in a city that certainly values appearances. That’s what the church planting manuals have told me. But after thinking about it for that past six months, I’m gonna go a different route. I’m gonna take Nouwen’s advice. I believe people are looking for something real. “Real” is not clothes or hairstyles or profanity or Wilco. It’s being comfortable enough with who you are so that it puts those around you at ease.

I’m gonna try that first.