What I Hope You Get Out of This

A few thoughts on why I do what I do

If you know me personally, then you know I’m a bit of a jack of all trades - of course, the “master of none” part does apply. I’ve learned how to do card tricks, solve a rubik’s cube, tinker with a few different instruments, throw different frisbee throws, ride a skateboard, hike, and my most recent endeavor has been to learn tricks on a diving board (I’m not flexible at all). There’s more I could mention like yo-yoing, jump rope tricks, video games, and, of course, carrying as many chairs as I can at the church potluck to impress the ladies, but that’s more natural ability than learned talent - just ask my wife Laura.

But while some of these come and go with little to no actual development, like the yo-yo, Bible study and thinking about and talking about God has been a constant in my life for quite some time. I began practicing preaching when I was a teenager, and I’ve always been drawn to in-depth Bible study and tackling the tough questions.

Talking about, writing about, and teaching what I learn is also a necessity. When I’ve tried to step away or get some other kind of job or keep it to myself, I feel tortured. If I’m not working in ministry in some way, I just don’t feel like myself. Like Paul said, “Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel!”

But why is it necessary? Why do I have to do it? What is my motivation?

I don’t think it’s my ego, though that may have something to do with it since we all could die to ourself in some way. And it’s not that I’m trying to earn my way into heaven or get more stars in my crown, though I may have felt that panicked motivation at some point. No, I really don’t think it’s an impure motive, but what is it? Why do I as a Christian, as a man, as a father, as a husband, and as a friend feel compelled to put myself through the heartache, disappointment, stress, and anxiety that often accompanies the life of a minister?

Well, that’s what I’m trying to figure out, and I am inviting you along for the ride.

This one is a bit longer than usual, so feel free to read a section at a time!

The Early Years

When I first started preaching and teaching through the scripture, I believe there were a few main motivations for me: (1) a love for God, the Bible, and the pursuit of truth, (2) a desire to emulate my Granddaddy and other ministers I treasured, and (3) the “terror of the Lord” (2 Corinthians 5:11, KJV).

God, the Bible, and the Pursuit of Truth

To be completely honest with you, I don’t know what, or who, I loved more: God or the Bible. I loved God, I’m sure. And I know that I loved Jesus. I believed in the Holy Spirit, but I thought he was MIA after the first century. But it was the Bible that I felt especially connected to.

I loved the stories, the theology, but most of all its habit of referencing itself and watching scripture come together in beautiful ways. And I still enjoy this. I remember wanting to become a “walking center column reference.” My Granddaddy and Mom taught me how to do word studies using common English words, and I have several of these preserved in old notebooks from my first years of ministry.

Whenever I see a new connection between two passages, I get a feeling of excitement and joy that I don’t feel much in any of my other hobbies and interests. I’m excited right now just thinking of the possibility! But I think that this feeling was almost idolatrous at times, and my motivation to preach and teach often came from the overwhelming need to share these connections I was seeing, but if someone didn’t get it, this would sometimes lead to broken relationships, hurt friendships, and my eventual excommunication.

I had elevated my own insights and intellect to a place above the simple, beautiful gospel of Jesus, so part of my ministry now is attempting to undo a lot of what I did and what others continue to do.

Granddaddy

Other major motivation in my earlier years came from wanting to live up to my Granddad’s high standards. When a visiting preacher came through, or even one of our regular ministers, unfortunately, my family would critique them endlessly. “They didn’t preach the Bible; they just preached about the Bible.” “Wow… they use the ESV. Don’t they know it teaches ‘once saved, always saved’?”

These critiques drove me to want to perfect the art of preaching. I wanted to craft my sermons to be biblical, filled with truth, and delivered in a way that didn’t fit into a three-point sermon outline. I wanted to preach from the overflow like the great Gus Nichols. I wanted to use sound logic like the mighty debater Guy N. Woods. And I wanted to use the Old Testament like Foy E. Wallace and Franklin Camp.

I read what he told me to read. I tried to do what he told me to do. And I adopted his philosophy as strictly as I could by always offering a biblical, five-step “invitation,” preaching using my word studies, and despising suit and tie “capital P” Preachers with their uniforms, three-point sermons, and holier than thou attitudes (sorry about that to any MSOP grads here… sorry you had to wear a suit ;) ).

Much of what my Granddad taught me has stuck with me until today.

The Terror of the Lord

Of course, there was also the “terror of the Lord” as the KJV translates 2 Corinthians 5:11. “Knowing therefore the terror of the Lord, we persuade men…” I’m not crying, but my breaths are shallow and I feel the tears as I think about the pressure I felt in one my first sermons, if not the first, to present baptism in such a way as to convince my grandmother to obey the gospel in the way I thought she ought.

I remember it being implied that she didn’t listen to her husband or her children, but she may just listen to her grandson.

For far too long I thought that almost everyone else around me was going to hell, including many people in my family and 99% of my classmates. I know for sure that my preaching and teaching were motivated by that. I used to stop in to talk to “denominational” preachers to try to teach them the truth. I hung flyers on other church’s doors to invite them to study the Bible with me. And I did all of this because I was afraid of going to hell, and I didn’t want the words of the old hymn to come true: “you never mentioned him to me.”

I was so alive in many ways, but I was also dead and in bondage to my own failures and shortcomings.

Baptism of Fire

I’m not going to rewrite my book, but you can read it by clicking here (use the code EFPG to read or listen to it for free). I will say though that being excommunicated by my tribe, much of which was my fault but inevitable I think, was the best thing that happened to me in my twenties. If that had not happened I would not have allowed myself to ask questions I desperately needed to ask.

Is everyone else really going to hell?

Is my way the only way?

Did my family really have it all figured out? Did I?

What I found out, and later learned to celebrate, is that one cannot be baptized by the Spirit without being baptized by fire. John says “and” not “or”. But thankfully, the fire is not to destroy the person; instead it is to season and purify. As Jesus said, “For everyone will be salted with fire” (Mark 9:49).

These questions, and others like it, helped me to change my approach to Scripture, my view of God, and, therefore my philosophy of ministry, preaching, and life itself. Everything from how to parent to how to preach was transformed by this wonderful, traumatic, holy, awful experience. As St. John of the Cross wrote, I came to love the Dark Night because of the excruciating ways in which my soul was purged of the false self. I cherish the old rugged cross through which the world was crucified to me and I to the world.

Following in the steps of Abraham (Genesis 12:1) and Ruth (Ruth 2:11), I had to leave mother and father (and Granddaddy) and learn to find my own faith.

On To Now

So what is my motivation now? I love you, the reader, but I’m going to change the question a bit because I think the reasons are more obvious for why I write what I write: I want to help you learn more about this awesome, loving God we serve by sifting through our shared old beliefs and interpretations and finding new (but ancient) ways to express our faith. In the midst of confusion and controversy, what do I want my congregation to learn of God’s Truth (Jesus) by the end of this particular season as a man, Christian, and minister?

Well, first this requires me to be brave and cast off the spirit of timidity like Timothy had to do. I’ve got to be brave. I’ve got to have tough conversations. And I’ve got to be a leader. It’s hard, but I think I can do it. But… it’s hard. But if that does happen, if I can get the courage, then what?

Freedom in Christ

My first inclination is to write about the freedom we have in Christ. I want the “progressive” (these terms are highly situation and apply only to our little branch of the COC) people to be free to both practice and not practice what they want. And I want the “traditional” people to be free to both practice and not practice what they want.

What I mean is that I want the spirit of Christ as described by Paul in Philippians 2 to be so prevalent among them that they are tripping over each other to make space for each other. I want the people who enjoy contemporary songs to complain that we aren’t singing enough older songs and the people who prefer the older songs to complain that we aren’t singing enough contemporary songs.

But this attitude only comes when you really begin to understand the limitless grace and freedom available to us. When you are in on the joke, life becomes so much more easier and fun. You can laugh at yourself and at/ with each other because the only thing that matters (yes, the ONLY thing - stop adding to it, please) is faith expressing itself in love, and what better way to love someone than to lay down your life for your neighbor, preferences and all. That’s why I recently wrote that one can get just as much out of someone else’s worship as they can their own:

But even if someone doesn’t think that their traditions are biblically mandated, it is so hard to find the courage to hold them loosely.

Preachers sometimes tell the story about the circus elephant that was abused by placing a spiked collar around its foot. This collar was attached to a stake in the ground, so if the elephant tugged, it would hurt itself the harder it pulled. Eventually, they get to the point where the spiked collar is no longer necessary. Just a little thread and a stake is enough to keep them in place. If they could just apply the tiniest bit of pressure, they would be free from their inhumane conditions, but when you’ve been attached to the spiked collar for so long, it is hard to embrace the freedom that is right within your reach.

And when you’ve been told that people who worship with instruments, or women who lead public prayers, or people who deviate from the pattern are going to burn forever and ever and ever and ever, then no wonder people have a hard time changing even though they might not believe that any more. 

The psychological and spiritual manipulation many of us have undergone, often by sincere and loving people who did it unknowingly and were just passing on their wounds, is hard to overcome. Thanks to Thomas Keating and his trilogy on centering prayer, I’ve found certain tools that have helped me over the years, but I still find my hands glued to my side, even when I want to raise them.

Reconciliation with Each Other and with God

When I told my secretary, who is way more than a secretary - she is a co-laborer in the gospel, a true shepherd, and a close friend - about the essay, she asked me what was the first thing that came to my mind. I answered, “Freedom in Christ.” This section title was her answer and one that resonated with me. (I told you she has a pastoral spirit.)

What she wants more than anything is healing and true peace, and I totally agree with her.

John wrote, “…what we have seen and heard we also declare to you so that you also may have fellowship with us, and truly our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ” (1 John 1:3).

Reconciliation with the Father is a prerequisite for reconciliation with each other. But how are we reconciled to the Father? Paul told the Corinthians that God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself, but there’s something else I want you to notice in this passage too:

That is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us (2 Corinthians 5:19).

When Jesus was on the cross, the Father did not turn his face away, he was right there with him. I love the picture The Shack presents with the marks of the cross being visible on the wrists of God. But notice the middle part of the passage: not counting their trespasses against them.

Now, I believe that baptism is “for the remission of sins” and I believe that when we confess our sins to each other that God is “faithful and just to forgive us of our sins.” But there is something powerful about this idea that God was already “not counting” the sins of the world long before any of us were ever born. Reconciliation didn’t start when you and I heard the gospel or repented of our sins. Reconciliation started in the mind of God before the foundation of the world.

Because God is love. Forgiveness is who God is. Reconciliation is who God is. And he has committed this ministry to us.

So, how might reconciliation happen among us? By emulating God in starting the reconciliation in our hearts now. By committing to forgive before the conversation ever happens. Because love, Paul says in 1 Corinthians 13, keeps no record of wrongs.

When you go into a conversation expecting it to turn out bad, it usually does, but what if you go into that conversation pre-forgiving the person of everything that they have done or said against you before they even have a chance to apologize and in spite of the fact that they might not. Isn’t this how we might truly lay down our lives for each other as Christ did for us - while they are our “enemies” (to reference Romans 5)?

This whole point of this essay assignment was to help teach me how to navigate conflict gracefully, and I think this previous point may just be it… and I didn't think about it until I typed it out. I think I’ve got it, but I’m going to write one other point I had already planned on for the sake of doing one of those “three-point outlines” I used to despise.

Love for Others

One of the things I picked up on over the last few years is the distinction between a more individual view and a more corporate view of salvation and Christianity. All Christians believe in corporate salvation to some degree because Paul talks about how Christ is the “Savior of the body” (Ephesians 5:23). But my appreciation for and emphasis of the corporate view has intensified over the last few years as I’ve meditated on Genesis 12:1-3.

As Richard Rohr has said, the elect are not chosen to the exclusion of everyone else but for the radical inclusion of everyone else. Or, to use the language of Genesis, Abraham was blessed to be a blessing. One of our old songs called “The Gospel is for All” says in the rarely sung second verse, “For why should we be blest alone?”

What I would like my congregation to learn, and really believe and buy into, is that the church’s role is to bring healing to the nations through this message of reconciliation. The picture of the glorified bride in Revelation 21-22 envisions a time in which kings come to worship the Triune God, and, although there are people outside of the gates, the invitation is always open and the gates are never shut.

I believe if a congregation really believes that, then it doesn't matter how few people attend; they are truly living in the power of God and will participate in the mission of God to reconcile all things to himself through Jesus.

Conclusion

I’m over my word limit, but I have a feeling that it doesn't matter to my mentor and friend because of some of the very reasons I mentioned in this essay. The grace of our Triune God is wild and creative; it is infinite and incomprehensible; yet, it is so accessible that we just have to be open to receiving it to receive it. This is the gift I want to pass on as I’ve been given. May our Triune God equip me to be an ambassador of reconciliation.