Leadership Lessons From A Crazy Old Man

In today's culture of megachurch marketing, rockstar worship teams, multi-million dollar Christian conferences and tv personality pastors, I want to pay tribute to someone who,  while he never wrote a best-seller or had his own television ministry, was one of the single greatest leaders I have ever had the privilege of knowing. He forever impacted my life not only by what he taught, but by how he lived. 

   The only thing older than he was, were his suits; which never matched and could perhaps have been carbondated to the Mesopotamian era.  He had a thin gray goatee which he stroked with one hand while holding his elbow whenever he was deep in thought, which was often.  He drove his beat-up excuse for a car around our college campus never going over 25 mph and stopping every few yards to talk to students through its rolled down windows.  

Leadership Principle One: Who you are is more important than how you appear.

Leadership Principle Two: Always move slowly enough to communicate value to the ones you lead. 

   He was a bit of a rebel, or at least anti-establishment. When the college administration insisted all professors wear suits and ties reflective of the slick business approach they were trying to replicate, he decided to model his absolutely outrageous collection of bowties.  It was always one of the highlights of the day to see what horribly mismatched bowtie he would be wearing.   It was not uncommon for him to announce that we were all going to cut class (himself included) and then proceed to treat the whole class to hot chocolate in the student lounge where he would regale us with stories or engage us in a theological debate.

Leadership Principle Three: Sometimes a sense of humor sends the most serious statement.  

Leadership Principle Four: The best learning often happens outside the classroom.

     He single-handedly funded a library for Bible School students in India primarily by donating all of his lecturing honorariums and by routinely passing around a styrofoam cup with "India" scribbled on its sides to which we would gladly surrender our last dollar and forfeit our morning coffee in order to contribute. He could reduce a classroom full of college basketball players to tears by sitting on top of his desk, one leg folded underneath him, unwrapping the beauty and wisdom contained in a single scripture verse as he deftly wove his brilliance for Greek exegesis together with a gift for storytelling that kept his students enthralled.   We hung on his every word, not only because of his brilliant command of scripture, but also because we knew that this man had been wounded not only in war (he usually taught holding his elbow due to shrapnel wounds), but he had been deeply wounded in life.  ( He lost his only son to a tragic car accident when his son was just 16 years old).  His voice would still break and his eyes fill with tears on the few times he spoke of it and yet there was no bitterness, no raging at God, no "life isn't fair" refrain, only a melody of "it is well with my soul" which could not but break us in the listening of it.

Leadership Principle Five: When it comes to sacrificial giving, others will follow your example.

Leadership Principle Six:  The impact of your message will be determined by the authenticity of your life. 

   While, a deans list GPA was important to most of us, the highest honor we could receive was a nod from him and his iconoclastic compliment of "you're okay."  There was no  greater honor, unless of course, you were one of the "few" to have received one of the books from his prized personal library.  Books were the only treasure he allowed himself and he made it a self-imposed discipline to give them away to his students, always with a hand-scrawled note of encouragement inside their cover.

Leadership Principle Seven:  Give away what you most love to those you love most.

     While he could have been teaching at much larger universities making a significantly greater salary, he chose to spend the end of his career at a small, obscure Bible School in Pennsylvania pouring his love for learning, his passion for God and his commitment to truth into his students. His name was Hobart Grazier or "Brother Grazier" to his students.

     In a culture where evangelical popularity often comes wrapped in designer suits, announcing it's own importance with slick seeker-friendly marketing, on made for tv customized sets, wisdom can sometimes go unrecognized.   God wrapped His greatest gift of wisdom in swaddling cloth.  Sometimes wisdom comes in moth-eaten, mismatched suits with ridiculous bowties. I thank God for that wisdom.  I thank God for Brother Grazier and the lifelong lessons he not only taught, but lived.
    

    

How I Lost God In A Megachurch (and found Him in a cafeteria)

   

      As a staff member  at a growing megachurch, every week I sat in pastor’s meetings where we dissected the worship service bit by bit, like a frog in a high school biology class.  Every piece was systematically analyzed, discussed and reviewed to death.  Week after week, as if God’s presence could be categorically formulated with just the right selection of music, the exact style and selection of vocal pieces, the flawless presentation of multi-media.  As if God showing up was something any of us had any control over.  Perhaps, it was in hopes that if God didn’t show up, no one would notice as long as the musicians were talented, the vocalists were amazing and the lighting and media created the right ambiance.

            Somehow when the Holy of Holies is pinned down to the dissection table, the essence of what makes it holy disappears.  The goosebump, shivers down your spine, God-is-in-the-house thing somehow refuses to be captured and put in a jar like the pickled specimens in a science lab.  Even in a megachurch with a multi-million dollar budget, ivy-league educated executive pastors, half-a million dollars worth of theatrical lighting, state of the art sound equipment and recording quality worship bands, the presence of God remains sovereignly in His control and refuses to be manipulated or exploited, even by our best intentions.  Yet there we sat, week after week, every Tuesday morning, dissecting the worship service as if God showing up depended on our analysis.

            And somewhere in and amongst all the dissecting, analyzing, reviewing and debriefing, I had lost Him.  I had lost God.  I could market Him, I could make Him seeker-friendly, I could wrap Him in a creative, entertaining package that would draw crowds of thousands, but I couldn’t find Him; not for myself;  not for real.  Not in the way that I had found Him when I was 13 and I would cry as I felt His love wash over me like gentle ocean waves.  I had lost God in the middle of a megachurch.  I knew it, but I was too scared to admit it.  So I continued to sit around the dissection table every Tuesday morning, poking and prodding and…pretending.

            Maybe that’s why I was so surprised when God showed up…unannounced…in a cafeteria.  I didn’t even see it coming.  A hot Indian Summer night in a tiny little excuse for a cafeteria with a handful of moms and dads, toddlers and teens, watching three of my dance students dance to worship music from a $79 boombox under fluorescent lights in sweatpants and t-shirts.  God showed up, and as the music played, I watch those three young ladies dance as if they were on stage with the New York City Ballet.  I tried hard to swallow the lump in my throat and hoped that no one would notice me trying to hold back the tears.  Until I looked around and realized that tears were flowing all over that little cafeteria.  On the faces of moms grateful for young women who weren’t embarrassed to dance with abandon as an act of worship, on the awestruck faces of little girls who dreamed of one day doing the same thing, in the almost embarrassed admiration of Dads who recognized they were standing on holy ground…in the middle of a cafeteria.  God showed up.

            Isn’t that just like God though?  His presence, that sense of something so much bigger than anything our minds can fully comprehend, yet so personally intimate with the true essence of who we are, refuses to conform to the towers of Babel we try to build to reach him and instead shows up when we least expect it, a burning bush in the middle of our everyday to-do list.  May we never grow too busy or too calloused to recognize the Holy in the midst of the mundane.  May we have the wisdom to know that when this happens we need make the time to remove our shoes and acknowledge that we are in fact standing on holy ground.  May we always be watching with eager anticipation for those moments, when God shows up.

The Evangelical Identity Crisis - Part I

"If the divine call does not make us better, it will make us very much worse. Of all bad men religious bad men are the worst. Of all created beings the wickedest is one who originally stood in the immediate presence of God." CS Lewis

We are in the midst of an evangelical identity crisis which has the potential to reshape the face of "Christianity" to a degree that has not been seen since Luther nailed the 95 theses to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany. We are left to try and tread water in the wake of the 1980's formation of the Religious Right which ushered in the modern-day phenomenon of the mega-church, and framed political platforms as doctrinal truths upon which hung the eternal destinies of individuals and countries.

Evidence of this identity crisis is easy to find:

The children of the leaders of the 1980's evangelical movement are now middle-aged adults many of whom, rather than carrying on the message and legacy of their famous fathers, are speaking out against the hypocrisy they saw first-hand. Individuals like Frank Schaeffer, son of the late Francis and Edith Schaeffer, who has become a darling of the liberal left for his books denouncing not only the Religious Right but many of it's hallowed leaders. The adult son of Jimmy and Tammy Faye Baker, Jim Baker, who now holds "church" in a New York bar room, adorned in full sleeve tats, jeans and leather jacket.

The emergence of the "Emergent Church" with prolific leaders like Brian MacLaren challenging some of the very foundational tenets of fundamentalism and evangelicalism.

The public humiliation and fall from grace of leaders of many of the largest, mega-churches. While it's not necessary to name them; sadly it seems its only a matter of time before a new casualty appears in the headlines and on Good Morning America; yet another public trophy for the liberal left to hoist in the air, much as the heads of the French revolutionaries were mounted on stakes for public display.

The alarming statistics which show that the divorce rate inside the "born again" circle is the same as the divorce rate outside the shadow of the steeple. (In fact, when evangelicals and non-evangelical born again Christians are combined into an aggregate class of born again adults, their divorce figure is statistically identical to that of non-born again adults: 32% versus 33%, respectively.) Barna Research Group

The exodus of women from Evangelical churches (22% drop since 1991 according to the Barna Research Group)

The latest research from the Pew Forum confirms what the anecdotal evidence points to:

"The Landscape Survey confirms that the United States is on the verge of becoming a minority Protestant country; the number of Americans who report that they are members of Protestant denominations now stands at barely 51%. Moreover, the Protestant population is characterized by significant internal diversity and fragmentation, " (The Pew Forum: US Religious Landscape Survey, January 16, 2011)

Is it a coincidence that as the "aging Baby Boomers" hit mid-life and the inevitable "mid-life crisis" it may bring, that we are seeing a collective identity crisis in our spiritual practices?

Perhaps an identity crisis is not necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps it is a sign of maturity, growth and wisdom to be asking questions, rather than assuming we have all the answers. Perhaps this uncomfortable, turbulent period when the tectonic plates we have always stood securely on seem to be shifting beneath us, will cause us to embark on our own search for truth rather than accept cleverly marketed cliches from the arbiters of mega-church culture.

Perhaps the evangelical identity crisis will force us to do what the Scriptures instructed over 2,000 years ago: "work out your own salvation in fear and trembling..." Philippians 2:12

Perhaps...

Question: What do you think regarding the "evangelical identity crisis?" Is it a positive or negative phenomenon?

Snowdays and Second Chances

Today, as I wandered into the aftermath of the first Nor'Easter of 2011 and the icy cold wind took my breath away, I listened to the snow crunching under my boots and laughed as I thought of all my mature, "adult" friends who were posting cheers all over Facebook for the snowfall. We may be the "aging Baby Boomers" but we are not so old that the words "snow day" can't still get our heart pounding and blood racing!


I was laughing because I was thinking of how in a few weeks, instead of cheering and marveling, we will all be commiserating over the exact same event. But today, today it was new. Today it was the first one. Today, we woke up in an enchanted land where everything looked different. Today, I was filled with memories of childhood growing up in New England snowstorms, sledding, and building snowmen and warming up with hot chocolate.


And so today, as I walked through the almost reverential hush that only a snowstorm can bring, I whispered a prayer of thanks for a God whose "mercies are new every morning." Today, I embraced this first snowstorm and let it remind me that God's grace and mercies cover my ugliest mistakes and bring a blanket of beauty that is "whiter than snow."

What's Wrong With This Picture?

"Blessed art thou, O God, for not making me a Gentile, slave, or woman." (Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Menachot)

According to The Barna Group, a recent survey of 603 "Christian" women over the age of 18 revealed that:

81% of the women polled, say that their church provides women with the same degree of leadership opportunities as Jesus would.

While I respect much of the work of The Barna Group, they have come under scrutiny and criticism regarding this particular survey methodology. Let me try to paint by number here to give an accurate picture of women in Protestant Churches in the US.

According to research by The Barna Group, there are up to 13 million more Christian women than Christian men in the United States.

Citing women as the "spiritual heavyweights," the Barna Group found they were:
57 percent more likely to attend an adult Sunday school class.
56 percent more likely to hold a leadership position. (not senior pastors)
54 percent more likely to join a small group.

70-80% of the Christian book market are...you guessed it...women (according to Michael Hyatt, Chairman of Thomas Nelson Publishers)

Now, compare that picture to the fact that, less than 5% of Senior Pastorate positions in Protestant churches are held by women. ("Why Men Hate Going To Church" by David Murrow)

So, to summarize, while women make up more than 50% of church volunteer staffs and Christian education students and more than 70% of the Christian book market, less than 5% of Senior Pastorate positions are held by women.

What's wrong with this picture? (aside from the fact that the survey methodology was biased) It does not fit the Scriptural example painted by Christ throughout his ministry. It does not match the New Testament picture of the Early Church (even given the fact that the culture at that time was horribly oppressive with regards to women).

Jesus came for one purpose: to reconcile lost humanity with a loving creator. He didn't do it the way the religious elite thought he should. Every single interaction he had with a woman ascribed value and communicated empowerment in a culture where women were constantly devalued and kept in subservience. His purpose was not to be a revolutionary, however his life revolutionized the world. Perhaps its time to color outside the lines. Perhaps it's time to paint a different picture.