But the dust never truly settled. I still find the occasional speck falling in my eye, causing irritation and affecting my vision. Often, in order to clean a room of all that has built up overtime, our task is to kick up the dust once more, and hope it falls elsewhere… like in the trashcan, or under the rug.
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Kate was pregnant. We knew this for sure. And I had just gotten into seminaries, but I wasn’t sure exactly where I would go. There was this strange ominous cloud of change looming, and the sight of it made Kate and I start to really question where we were. The one thing that wasn’t up for question were the mounting concerns we had with the church we were serving in.
The concerns had been building ever since we got there, we heard inappropriate and inaccurate comments being made flippantly, and sensed unresolved conflict from situation surrounding the departure of the Youth Pastor before me. There was a distinct distance between myself and the Senior Pastor, and it was established very early on.
I’m not one for conflict. I hate it with every fiber of my being. It makes me sick to even think about it, and so I avoid it at all costs. I think that is one of the reasons I was called to this church. It was soaked in unresolved conflict, and God was going to teach me how to address it in a healthy way.
When this conflict all began, I dismissed it. I told myself I was being prideful or arrogant and that I should humble myself. These were simple misunderstandings and they would pass with time.
But they weren’t. They were the result of complex differences in theology that deeply hurt people and their view of Christ. They were undeniable sins being committed by the Senior Pastor, and there were those in leadership surrounding him that approved through inaction. It boiled down to an old school bully trying his best to exert control through religion, and as we learn in the Gospels, this often works.
Knowing that this environment could not be a healthy place for me or my family, Kate and I decided that I would address it as we made a decision about the next 4 years of my life. So, I wrote up my points, with examples and with scripture, and I prepared myself to have the conversation I had long put off.
The meeting started with an e-mail, which asked me not to bring my phone with me. I had never used my phone in meetings before, so this wasn’t an issue, but it is something that should be noted.
When I walked into the meeting, with my statements and heart prepared through much prayer, it was like walking into an oncoming train. I began to address my concerns and was interrupted by an employee evaluation form being handed to me.
“I want you to rate yourself in these categories.”
Are you on time? Presentable? Listening to leadership? Responding promptly?
And I just imagined the apostles trying to answer these questions. Especially thinking of John the Baptist and whether or not he came to work in professional attire… the image brought a smile to my face. But as I skimmed the write up, it became painfully clear; there was no Christ in this, not a single mention of scripture, not a single question about my spiritual health, or the impact of my ministry.
Now, let me be intentionally clear here, if I have not been previously. I was always on time. Always presentable. And listened to the leadership of the church even when it made me sick, but these things didn’t even scratch the surface of the issues I was dealing with. I hadn’t been to the church service in months, I was holding onto anger I had toward the Senior Pastor FOR MONTHS! It was to the detriment of myself and my family, and it was the reason I called the meeting in the first place.
“These things aren’t the issue,” I said, but was quickly interrupted.
“Don’t try to make this into a big theological question, this isn’t about God.” And in that moment we had finally agreed on something.
I sat for two hours as this man, who I will no longer refer to as a pastor, spewed lies justifying critiques he had. A few days prior, I had cancelled a trip to mow our local camp, based on his suggestion. Suddenly in this meeting it was a matter of me “refusing to do as he had asked, and not putting ministry as a priority”. Keep in mind, I had every intention of going up there and mowing the acreage MYSELF, after working a 60 hour week, and his previous assurance that it would be ok if I didn’t go were a huge relief to me… that is, until he used them to fuel his criticisms.
After the two hours had passed, I could tell he was finally running out of steam. I had employed the boxing technique, just dodge the hits until he tires himself out, and that was when I finally said all the things that I had been interrupted from saying before. All of the things that been avoided, and that his bullying had caused me to bottle up.
“There’s a serious issue here. You are consistently graceless and inappropriate with people, myself included, and it is not ok. And your attitude affects the church as a whole. It’s false teaching.”
“Well if you think there is an issue with this church, then it’s not just me, it’s the elders. You should talk to elders and see what they have to say.”
And that is a truncated version of how my attempts at reconciling with a bully led to me getting fired.
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Obviously there is more to the story. (And obviously, I can't fit it all into a blog post, or even a series of posts, but here is some of it.)
When I left the meeting, we had decided that I would speak to the Associate Pastor as well as two other elders (one of my choosing and the head of the Elder Board) in one-on-one meetings. I knew that this wasn’t the way of handling conflict as prescribed in Matthew, and so I decided I would obey the choices of the leadership of the church, but also obey the scriptures first and foremost.
As soon as I got out of the meeting, I was supposed to drive up to camp in order to do the preaching for one night of Elementary Camp. I grabbed my phone and quickly ran out the door. As I looked at my phone I noticed that it was blowing up with missed calls and texts.
I listened to the voicemail and realized that my Grandma had just passed away.
I really can’t put all of those feelings into words. I can tell you what happened, but I can’t explain the anger, or the fear, or the insecurity. I will say I was anxious. I didn’t sleep, I barely ate.
I drove up to camp and I did the sermon. Every so often I’d be in between calls from my mom about the memorial service, and calls from Kate about everything happening at the church. The days blurred together and the next thing I knew I was flying out to California for the funeral. I performed the memorial service. I cried. I came back on a 3 day train ride with my sister, her 3 kids, and my mom. The whole time I tried not to tell my mom about everything happening at church. I didn’t process any of it. It sat in the background, stewing.
I started doing what my wife calls the “Cat on the Roof”. It basically means sharing little bits of information in order to prepare someone for a big loss. A family cat dies, and the parents call their daughter at college and delay the bad news, saying, “the cat, she keeps getting away. We look for her for hours and we can’t find her.” The daughter freaks out a bit, but holds out hope that the cat will return. The parents call again, “we found the cat, she’s on the roof and she isn’t getting down.” Another call comes later, “we got her off the roof, but she’s lost again.” The daughter has already partially grieved. Then the parents call again, “we found the cat… she died.” Obviously, the daughter is upset, but she’s been given a head start on her grief. The whole time I was with my mom it was little bits of information at a time. “Yeah, things aren’t going so well at the church.” “No, we may not be at the church much longer.” “We’re thinking about what we’re going to do after we leave.” This trip wasn’t about me, though, it was about Grandma.
I got back home on a Saturday at 5 AM. Kate picked me up. I washed my clothes. I tried to sleep. I couldn’t sleep. I woke up on Sunday and had to get the Youth Group ready for their week long summer camp, a camp I was preaching at. Anyone familiar with Youth Ministry knows how hard this can be. Add to that the stress of grieving my grandmother, the stress of not knowing how things at the church would be resolved, the stress of not sleeping, worrying about the baby on the way, and not being able to talk to anyone about it. I’ve got 20 kids all running around, I’m preparing 5 sermons, organizing rides, and having kids show up last minute. I get pulled aside by a parent and chewed out for not letting them know everything about camp, and how they feel like I don’t like their kid. I have no idea where this came from. I can’t process it. I’m getting anxious just writing this. So, new paragraph.
I’m at camp. I get a phone call on Monday from the head of the Elder Board telling me that there is a mandatory meeting on Tuesday. I agree to attend, despite the fact that this meeting cancelled a mediation meeting I had scheduled with the Senior Pastor, which followed the Biblical model for handling conflict. I drive down. The whole thing goes to crap. I’m told that I’m making wild and baseless accusations about the Senior Pastor, and that they need to review my formal employee evaluation.
This was when it all became clear to me. This wasn’t just some one-off conflict with the Senior Pastor, this was something that had been orchestrated. The critique was all part of a plan to make themselves appear blameless, to legitimize why I would be fired. I was no longer handling a church, but a political machine. If you’re wondering what the major difference is between the two, it’s simple. A church lives and breathes grace. It’s their sole (and soul) purpose. A political machine gathers power and control. They are absolutely mutually exclusive, and if you know me at all, you know I’m not quick to say things are mutually exclusive.
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Grace is the greatest thing. It’s a free gift from God given to His people. It’s more powerful than we could possibly imagine, and its practice within the Church is the only reason we exist. I came to Christ because of grace. I swore to show grace when I followed the call into ministry. Grace. Grace. Grace. Grace. Grace. I honestly cannot emphasize it enough.
“Poets before me have tried to measure this love and if 40,000 brothers cannot with all of their quantity of love make up this sum, then how can my heart contain this mass. It would only burst at the seams into a million tender pieces.” -Bellarive “Tendons”
I live for grace, but it is a messy thing. I look back on this post, and I recognize its lack of poetry. I see its bluntness and its anger. I have no idea why anyone would read this… but there is grace. For those who have come so far in this diatribe, it is all because of grace. Grace consists of two elements: failure, and love. This blog, my life, the way I talk to others, it’s littered with failure. But those who engage it, who take it in anyway, they show grace.
I emphasize this because… well, it’s the only thing worth talking about.
And that is the biggest problem.
When I left for this church in Kansas my good friend and former boss told me something in passing that I completely dismissed. “Alex, whatever you do, wherever you go, you need to find a church that believes in grace.” I laughed at the notion that there are churches that don’t believe in grace, but then again I was young and naive.
Gracelessness entered into my life as a trickle. It was the consistent little comments, like a leaking faucet. “That person is a two dollar crack whore,” and “we don’t want to offer cheap grace to people, they’ll just use it for their own gain.” I had never heard these sorts of things in a church context before, and it wasn’t just simple statements in passing, it was a consistent behavior, starting from the highest points of leadership.
I knew that I needed one thing in this world more than anything else, and that was grace. When I thought about how I was going to raise my son, and start my family, I knew there was something wrong, because I knew grace was missing. In its place was judgement disguised as discernment. An understanding of wisdom that propped oneself up to put others down.
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“All of what I said is true. But none of it matters.”
That’s what my professor said as he explained his story that was eerily similar to mine.
I immediately got angry. Of course it matters! You were wronged, and they hurt you! This is supposed to be the church!
The professor went on to explain how we create narratives so that we can avoid facing our weaknesses. We spin the story so as to avoid addressing our problems. I patiently listened and waited, hoping that it would somehow click, but it didn’t. I was still hurt.
It was the next morning when I was talking with Kate that it started to make sense. I can’t fix what happened. I can’t delete my pain. I can’t make people apologize, or admit their fault. All I can do is take the experience and learn from it. If I don’t see my own failures and shortcomings in the light of all of this, then the experience was a waste.
That is one of the powerful things about grace. It takes in all the hurt, and all the sadness. It turns sleepless nights into epiphanies. It makes all the bad into something that glorifies God.
I can’t fix that church. I can’t fix the consequences of their actions that led my wife and I to many fits of tears. I can’t take back how I’ve questioned my calling. All I can do is allow grace to sweep over all of it. That was my biggest weakness, in being surrounded by a graceless environment I allowed myself to go without it.
Many people talk about the power of forgiveness. I’ve heard sermon after sermon about letting other people go from your anger, about freeing yourself from the hurt. But grace is more powerful than forgiveness. Grace takes all of the failure and fills it with love. In turn, the greater the failure, the greater the love that covers it. This brings such strength to the scriptures when they say “Christ’s power is made perfect in weakness.” His love, more abundant in failure and folly.
“Your problem is you see that whole church as scorched earth, that nothing good could come of it.” I hope that is true, that people recognize that no good comes out of a church lacking in Christ, because then, finally, the power of grace will overcome the blatant failure, and the quantity of love that will be poured out to cover all of what happened will be more abundant than I could fathom. I pray that God will make scorched earth of my life, so that I may be blessed in my weakness. I pray for grace, Lord.
|| Posted by Alex ||
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