Rubble University: Part I, You are NOT a Preacher

Although I wouldn't recommend it: pain, trials, and sinful choices are a full semesters worth of Life credit. Despite the last three years being the most challenging and failed of my short existence, I still believe I have lived, by the grace of God, an easy and comfortable life.  I feel, today, God's favor on me, a heavy hand of favor that makes me cower undeservingly.  It is the cherry on top of a 3 year journey in humility.  I'm not saying "I'm humble," but rather that I have been humbled...forced against my pride to rely fully on an a life in God.  In short, I've learned a lot from my failures: moral failures, failures born of ignorance, and failures from immaturity.

This post is the first in a series where I offer a brief summary of "leadership/ministry" lessons.  Lessons I've scavenged from the rubble, lessons I wish I knew earlier (probably should have known).  I tailor them toward preaching and ministry but you can apply them to any role involving leadership and responsibility (even parenting).  I hope something in the next several posts can encourage and challenge you.

1.  You Are NOT a Preacher (Minister):   You are not a preacher.  You are a child of God gifted and called to preach.  If you woke up today and the pulpit was gone, your office empty, and the name plate on your wall replaced, would you know who you are?  Yes, you would grieve the loss.  But would you be lamenting the loss of a loved job or the loss of your identity? When you make preaching your identity, it becomes your god, and all idols eventually rust, break, and leave you bloody and exhausted after dancing and shouting for hours on end with no response (I Kings 18).  And when preaching becomes the god to whom you sacrifice, you hinder the effectiveness of your ministry and the Kingdom of God.

First, when your value and self-understanding rest on the soft foundation of preaching rather than the steadfast love of God, your ministry moves away from God to yourself.  Preaching becomes about your influence, your reputation, your ability, your growing number of "gigs", your skill, your eloquence, and your notoriety. Instead of pointing to the cross, you use the story of the cross to point to you.  When preaching becomes your identity it ceases to be preaching mutating into a religious talent show.  Preaching, by definition, is "A word from the Lord" and not a word about you.

Second, you can expect an emotional roller coaster ride from hell...Highs, when you will look in the mirror and whisper to your dashing self, "You are awesome!" Lows, when you will want to crawl into a hole and die (no one would care anyway).  Your contentment will bob around like a buoy in a midnight squall, because it depends upon the congregational response. When the congregation praises your preaching, when they write raving reviews, you will feel amazing about yourself. But, when the criticism comes, you will not see the criticism as directed at your preaching but as criticism directed at you.  As your mood tettertotters with the congregational response, temptations arise: First, to tickle the ears of the hearer; second, to bounce from place to place in order to remain in the "honeymoon" stage; third, to ignore and/or avoid constructive criticism; fourth, to foster bitterness and resentment against the congregation when things go poorly.

You are NOT a preacher. You are a Child of God. His forming you, his breathing life into your fragile frame, his delivering you, his inviting you to participate in his life...that is who you are. So, how do you remind yourself you are NOT a preacher?

1. Take your DAY OFF (I made the mistake of not doing that).  
2. Talk with your elders about rearranging your schedule to fit around family life rather than forcing family life to fit around your ministry schedule. For example, if you have young children at home, go to work at 9:00 AM instead of 8:00 AM.  You you can help get them to school.  Make that hour up studying from your house after they go to bed at night
3. Find a hobby: running (should be manditory), hunting, fishing, cooking, shopping (within reason), Call of Duty, high school basketball, etc.
4. Be gracious in sharing the pulpit.
5. Bring in preachers who you know are better than you.
6. Invite others to help you plan and brainstorm for your sermons. 
7. Find a group of people you trust, who love you for you. Invite them to provide honest sermon feedback. 

And I'm sure there are 100 other ways to live out of the reality that you are NOT a preacher; you ARE a child of God.

Busted Sprinklers: Why Brett Favre Will Retire Again

I build fences.  Okay...that's not the total truth.  I HELP  build fences.  I'm the least experienced and the least skilled fencer in the crew.  So, the menial, yet necessary (Do you like how I tried to make that sound better than it is), tasks fall to me.  I spend most days doing things any average kindergartner could handle: sorting, digging, lifting, carrying, cleaning, etc (too bad no coloring).  Although I enjoy what I do, I wake up every morning and give my ego a heads up, "Ego, today you're going to get a butt whipping! See you at dinner."  That sets the background for yesterday's events.

We are working on a narrow curbless street. So me, being the the thoughtful person that I am, park my passenger-side tires on the neighbor's grass to allow room for traffic to flow easily.  Apparently, I also decide to park on a sprinkler head!  "Crack," goes the PVC pipe 18 inches below the ground.  "Gush," goes the water underground.  The neighbor yells.  My boss is annoyed and frustrated. And I'm "Yippee-Ki-Yay... Idiot-of-the-day!"  This happens right before lunch and so as I drive away from the disaster sight I feel worthless and useless. 

"If I were only preaching again.  At least with preaching I have experience.  I have education.  I have more confidence.  At least I feel like I'm contributing to the Kingdom on a daily basis," my mind reminisces as I make the short commute home for lunch. As I reach home I start gathering lunch essentials: ham, Gouda, Triscuits, crunchy peanut butter, honey, ESPN, and the newspaper.  As I snack, read and listen, ESPN does an Urban Meyer segment, "Urban Meyer returns to college football as Ohio State's new head coach!" About the same time I read the line, "The Texans are looking to sign another quarterback due to injury, possibly Brett Favre." What? Hasn't Brett retired enough for 4 or 5 lifetimes? That's when it hit me.  Urban Meyer is Brett Favre and I'm Urban Meyer.

Even though he is 42, of course Brett Favre wants to toss the pigskin on the Sunday gridiron.  He spent nearly 20 years of his life as a professional quarterback.  A massive part of his identity is wrapped up in being a quarterback.  When he isn't throwing a football; he isn't completely Brett Favre.

Sure, Urban Meyer stepped out of coaching for health and family reasons, but of course he is coming back.  To be Urban Meyer is to coach college football.  It's who he is, so much so that he is willing to risk his health.  Urban Meyer can't be Urban Meyer if he isn't coaching football.  Lucky for you, Ohio State.  Not so luck for you, Michigan!

So when I drive away from the disaster sight it is only natural that my mind wanders back to preaching.  I've been in ministry since the summer after I graduated high school.  Preaching is part of who I am. I spent too many years placing my value and my identity in preaching, in my profession, in what I DO!  And that is a lie!

My value is not based on what I do.  It is not based on a career.  It is not based on preaching. I am valuable because God created me - period!  Your value is not based on what you do, on your profession (or your role as a stay-at-home parent, etc).  You are valuable because God created you - period!  My identity is not my career!  My identity does not come from what I do or how I perform.  My identity is found in God and he says, "You are a Child of God." Your identity is not what you do.  It is not your profession or how you perform.  You are a child of God.

It is easy to find our value in what we do.  It is so easy to misplace our identity in our profession, but in the end it will leave us incomplete.  Only when we are able to rest fully in the truth that we are a cherished child of God can we be free to serve him in any circumstance - to live to our potential on a daily basis.  The striving will cease; anxiety will dissipate; contentment will find a home; peace will inhabit our hearts.

Yes, I want to preach again.  Yes, I believe, by the grace of God alone, I will.  But first, I have to be content even if I never preach again.  This means I must place my full identity in God.  How about you?  Are you aware of how much your profession (or roles) dictates your identity?  Could you be content never doing what you do now again?  Is you identity really in God through Christ?

What Was Is and Will Be

All that I have left is all that I really had in the first place.

I'm a sculptor of perception and my medium of choice has been the Christian Faith.  I learned early on which levers to pull, which words to say, which looks to sport, which verses to quote in order to win the approval of the masses.  It worked.  The school kids called me "PK" (Preacher Kid).  Mr. Integrity in High School.  Mr. LCU in college. "Charley and Terrie, you must be so proud of your son!"  It worked so well I eventually landed what I had planned from the beginning - the big preaching gig! I had sculpted a perception masterpiece.  The problem?  Any perception built on any foundation other than God eventually caves in under its own weight.  And so it did with the "big preaching gig."

I was honored and thrilled that this prominent congregation had invited me to stand before them and offer a weekly Word from the Lord.  I also knew that despite its successful history the congregation was  currently in the early stages of organizational decline.  No problem, that's why I was being brought in (sounds pompous...  it was). Except that two months into the job my gut, or more likely the Spirit (sometimes I wish it were easier to decipher between the two), told me, "This isn't going to work." But there were voices out -talking my gut/Spirit.  My education said, "You have to give it two years before you can make any decisions!"  My experience said, "You are a trained theologian and minister."  My youth said, "You are exactly what this congregation needs to ride out of its slump into a new future."  My competitive nature said, "Taylor, you're not a quitter!"  In case you missed it, my pride and arrogance out-shouted my gut/Spirit.

"I mean, I am an excellent preacher.  I will win the crowd over in no time.  I will WOW them with my first sermon and by the end of the first month they'll be thanking the elders for hiring me!"  So I delivered my first sermon with all the passion I could muster, but the WOW was more of an "Uh-huh."  The WOW didn't show up at the second or third sermon either.  Second month? Nope.  Third? Nah.  Sixth?  No way; it was bad by then.  The comments were coming "Talks too fast.  Doesn't use enough scripture.  Irreverent. Illustrations don't make sense.  Can't understand him.  He is a left wing liberal...."  Now granted, preaching always comes with criticism and I had many opportunities to taste that bitter herb.  Once after a youth rally, an elder rebuked me publicly in front of the entire congregation. That tasted sweet! Another time, at a different congregation, a member transcribed a section from my sermon, wrote a three page rebuttal and then emailed it to all my elders with out my knowledge.  Criticism and I had gone on several dates.  It wasn't simply the criticism but the reality that it began to awaken in me, "You're not that good of a preacher!"  At that point, I often considered quitting preaching altogether with dreams of serving as a park ranger in some heavily forested state.  I realized the weight I put on my preaching was too much.  It was too shabby of a structure, and would never carry this congregation through.

With my preaching crumbling around me, I turned to my mad leadership skills.  "Come on, I have always been a leader: NHS President, Drama Club VP, Chorus Chaplain, Freshman Class President, Sophomore Class President, Meistersinger President."  I thought my credentials would speak for themselves.  But, this situation was different; overt leadership would fail.  I didn't have the chips, tenure, or respect to lead overtly.  I would implement second chair leadership: relational leadership, grassroots movements, invite outsiders with clout to speak into the situation, and use data...lots and lots of data.  I was confident... then less so...then not at all...then simply kissing failure right smack on the lips.  Throughout my leadership efforts several key individuals who I needed on board called my leadership ability into question.  KABOOM!  My leadership confidence exploded as my preaching collapsed around me.

"At least I still have my integrity and character!  At least... oh wait, HAD."  The majority of people would never have doubted my character and integrity and no one was going to take that from me.  They didn't have to because I sacrificed it all when I let my heart wander into places it never belonged, launching me into a four month run of betrayal, deception, selfishness, and cheating.  At that point... "Let's see, anyone out there respect me?  Can we see a showing of hands? Umm, anyone?  Anyone?  Ok, no one!"  So with my preaching crumbling around my exploding leadership I decided to strangle my character and integrity with my bare hands.

It all caved in... all of it and I was left with nothing - Preaching? NO.  Leadership? Funny.  Character and integrity? Shut up! - everything I had relied on for my identity.  All the little pieces I had woven into a beautiful tapestry and named "Charlton" were now shattered across the floor of my life.  I was left with nothing but God!  That's when it hit me; that's all I ever had, GOD!  Even when "I had it all," I really just had God.


All that I have left is all that I really had in the first place.

Long Walks on the Beach and a Long John

She's fat... the kind of fat that makes her think twice before bending down to pick up dropped change.  Clinking change won't cut it. We are not supposed to talk about people being fat.  That's right!  We just say it behind their back.

Her face parallels that of a bulldog where the saggy lip gets hung up on the canine. Dentures would help provide some facial structure.  We would never say it, but if she were prettier we would deduct the social strikes of her obesity.  It's true.

She starts off most days with a couple of cream-filled Long Johns and a DP.  Why wouldn't she?  Food is one of the few consistent things in a world where, for some, life is a dull ache at best.  A Long John is sweet and creamy no matter who hit you last night or what jackpot you happened to land.  The Long John loves you unconditionally, so let her have her Long John.

I wonder if it these Long John moments and others like it that empower her to set her alarm each night.  I mean four kids, one with diabetes (she almost died) and a set of twins with a speech impediment so bad that you would think they were imported from Ukraine.  She is a single mom, a good one.  There is no husband.

But there is a man, one she calls the "Love of Her Life."  Although in reality, he's a bum.  He lets her work hard, back-breaking hard and he reaps all the benefits.  She kicked him out, but she'll call him back because they make each other laugh and his body warms an otherwise cold bed.  There's also the fathers of her kids.  Yes, I said fatherS.   One, the ex-husband turned ex-convict and the other... that's a good question.

When she talks, she would make you embarrassed for the South, the kind of person Good Morning America puts on TV for their random on location disaster site street interviews.  But any other circumstance, any other deck of cards, my life and she would be CEO of a Fortune 500.  She works harder for $12/hour than most millionaires do for their empires.  And The Company will keep her at $12/hour because they can.  They know they can.  And she'll keep working hard because the "Dat-a-girls" she gets for her efforts go down just as easily with a DP as do the cream-filled Long Johns.

Someone needs to grab her by the shoulders, look her straight in the eyes, and say, "You are valuable; you are precious; you are adored by the Maker; you are beautiful; you are strong; you are equal to all others; you are amazing!" Not because they should, not out of pity, not out of guilt, not out of a legalistic pull to be good, BUT because IT IS TRUE.